#knowing there is no way to EXPLAIN that’s not how this WORKS ELIJAH

[athenamikaelson]

Klaus Mikaelson x Reader!Soulmate x Elijah Mikaelson PART 5

Word Count- 3.3k

Warnings- Swearing, violence, slight SA, Elijah being a simp.

A/N- This chapter wasn’t much but I wanted to get something out to you guys. NEXT CHAPTER though, there will be a lot of Elijah and reader. I am very excited to write that. And most likely the chapter after that will be the intro of our favorite Hybrid, which I know many of you have been itching for. 

ALSO, I want to thank you all for your support. It means so much to me that so many of you love this series as much as I do.

“Wait, so Rose is dead, werewolves are roaming the streets of Mystic Falls, and some bitch kidnapped you? All in a span of a week. ”

I look up to Caroline who is sitting behind me braiding my hair. She solemnly nods and frowns. 

“Ya, thankfully though Elijah’s witches came in clutch and helped save the day,” Caroline says as she moves my head forward to go back to braiding my hair. 

“Elijah helped,” I question Elena, who sits before me with Bonnie as they paint each other’s nails. Elena had called me an hour ago saying we were having a sleepover at Careoline’s but she never explained why. 

She nods, “Ya, I guess he is keeping his side of the deal.

Bonnie chimes into the conversation but I tone them out. Ever since that night in Elena’s room, my mind has been plagued by thoughts of the suited original vampire. His dark eyes haunt my dreams and when I’m awake I feel as if he’s not far away. I know I’m being delusional but I have these moments where I think I’m going to turn around and he’s going to be standing right behind me. 

“He’s kind of cute,” Caroline’s words bring me back to the conversation at hand. 

“Who?” 

“Have you not been listening,” She asks me, to which I just shrug my shoulders embarrassedly. Caroline and I have started to have an interesting friendship. Unlike my friendship with Elena in which we both have somewhat trauma bonded, my friendship with Caroline is more her talking my ear off and me enjoying not having to talk. I had originally thought that Caroline and I wouldn’t mesh well since I kind of hate people who don’t know when to shut up. But oddly enough we work well together. I don’t pressure her to stop talking and she doesn’t pressure me to talk. 

Bonnie and I on the other hand both talk much so when we’re together it’s mostly in peaceful silence. I think we both appreciate that though with all the hectic things we’ve had to deal with. 

“Elijah. I was talking about Elijah. He’s got that suave gentleman look to him, but he also looks like he’d be a freak in the sheets if you know what I mean,” She jokingly shoves me but for some reason hearing her talk about him that way makes an odd feeling rise in my gut, “He seems like your type Y/N.”

My eyebrows furrow, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Caroline shrugs her shoulder, “I don’t know, just an inference.”

“How about we order food,” Elena pipes up, I’m guessing she noticed the embarrassed look I had on my face and decided to rescue me from that awkward conversation. I send her a small smile as Caroline instantly agrees and Bonnie nods. 

—

Thirty minutes later, Bonnie, Elena, Caroline, and I are sitting on the floor of Caroline’s bedroom eating Chinese food. I watch silently as Bonnie and Caroline argue if we should watch The Notebook or Pride and Prejudice. Elena sits next to me watching and giggling at them. As I sit there silently watching all my new friends, I find myself smiling to myself. For the first time in years, I actually feel as if I belong. As if I’m a part of something. And I like it. I really like it. 

—

RING RING RING

I jolt awake at the ringing of a cell phone and groan as the morning light pierces my eyes. I’m not the only one annoyed from being awoken because I hear Caroline and Bonnie growling at Elena for answering her phone so early in the morning. I can hear some of what she and Stefan are talking about from her position outside the door but decide listening to them flirt isn’t how I want to spend my morning so I throw my pillow over my head and try to suffocate myself. I’m about to doze off when my pillow is ripped off my face. 

“First of all, suffocation really,” Elena glances down at me from her standing position, “Second of all you’re getting a call.” She hands me my phone. I glance down at the unknown number on the screen and groan as I answer it, already annoyed with the caller.

“What do you want Damon?” I asked annoyed as I waited for the vampire to respond. 

“I’m picking you up from your house in an hour you better be dressed to impress Mystic Falls’ elite.”

“What the hell are you talking about Demon?”

“Listen Pukey, I got word that our favorite original is going to be at the Mayor’s tea party and you’re going as my plus one.”

I frown at Damon’s mention of Elijah, “Why me?” 

I hear Damon groan from his end as if all my questions are annoying him, “For some reason, the suited one has a soft spot for you so I’m guessing he would be less inclined to kill me with you at my side. So get your ass ready and be ready or I’ll drag you to the party in your PJs,” Damon pauses for a moment, “You know what, feel free to wear what you’re wearing now. I'm interested to know what you wear to sleep. If anything at all.”

I loudly gag and Damon laughs and then ends our call. I groan and sit up. I turn over my shoulder to see Caroline and Bonnie cuddling together and sleeping. I slightly smile at the sight but freeze up. Elijah. I’m seeing Elijah today. 

—

“Well, don’t you look darling,” Damon smirks at me as I get into the passenger seat of his Mustang, “Elijah’s going to eat you right up.” 

I visibly shake at his words and shoot him a glare.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Elijah doesn’t have a soft spot for me.”

Damon just hums to himself, “Sure. Whatever you say Pukerella.”

—

As we climb the stairs of the Mayor’s house I nervously fiddle with the hem of my dress. I tried my best to find something suitable for the Mayor’s tea party but unfortunately, I didn’t have the funds for expensive beautiful dresses like my peers so I had to settle for a simple white sundress that stops at my mid-thigh. There is dark red lacing that lines the hem. I matched the red thread to a hair ribbon I had and used that to put my hair up. What is making me the most uncomfortable though is that I got this dress a long time ago, so I’ve filled it out in places that are quite visible. 

“Stop fiddling,” Damon says as he grabs my arm in his and holds it to his chest like we’re some cute couple and he’s a gentleman. Both are very much false. I try to shake away from him but his grip only tightens. He leads us up the steps and through the door where classical music fills the room. Many old women converse together as we pass.

“Damon and Y/N, what are you guys doing here?” Jenna questions him as she walks over to us, she notices me and a look of confusion contorts her face as she notices our interlocked hands.

“Hi, you came,” Some blonde woman comes up to Damon and kisses him deeply on the lips resulting in a gag from me. Thankfully the distraction made Damon unlatch his arm from mine so I squeezed past them and go to stand behind Jenna. This doesn’t last long as Damon thanks Jenna for introducing him and his “friend,” as he walks back over to me grabbing my arm and leading me away from them. I almost trip when I see where Damon is leading us. Right towards Ms. Lockwood and Elijah who is unsurprisingly wearing a suit that looks like it was made just for him, which I’m guessing it was. I lock eyes with him and his lips turn upwards into a small smile but it slightly drops as his gaze drops down to my dress. 

Damon and Ms. Lockwood achieve pleasantries and she introduces Damon to Elijah, who still has his eyes locked on me. Damon pulls me closer to him which catches Elijah’s attention. His once soft eyes darken as he stares at the arm Damon has wrapped around my waist.

“Such a pleasure to meet you,” Damon extends a hand to Elijah and I feel as if I’ve lost all the air in my lungs as Elijah reaches his hand up to Damon’s.

“No. Pleasure’s mine,” Elijah claims but as I notice the grimace on Damon’s face as he contracts his now-redden hand from Elijah’s I’m guessing he’s not being entirely truthful. 

“And oh! Y/N, I didn’t know you were going to be joining us today,” Carol finally notices me as she gives me a once over, “This doesn’t really seem like your crowd.”

I bite back the urge to tell her I’d rather be sticking pin-needles in my eye sockets than have to listen to any of the pompous bitches, but just politely smile at her. 

“Oh, Miss. Y/L/N here is my plus one,” Damon chimes up. Carol looks at me suspiciously as if I shouldn’t be here. 

“I didn’t know you and Y/N were friends.”

Damon throws his arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer to him, “Oh, yes. We’re great friends. Practically best friends if you will.” Carol just nods her head as if she doesn’t completely believe it but relents as she turns to Elijah who hasn’t moved his eyes from Damon’s hand. With all the attention my skin starts to crawl and I raise my left foot slightly and kick it down onto Damon’s right one resulting in a painful hiss to escape his lips. His hand instantly drops from my shoulder and within a moment I feel another hand lightly grab my wrist and pull me away from Damon. I’m almost happy until I see the hand that has grabbed me belongs to no other than Elijah. For some reason though as soon as he has pulled me away from Damon he drops my wrist and lets me stand on my own. I know I shouldn’t but I send him an appreciative smile. For a moment Elijah just stares at me blankly before nodding his head, he quickly turns his attention back to Ms. Lockwood but before he’s fully turned away from me I could’ve sworn I saw a light pink hue on his cheeks. Was he blushing? Wait. can vampires even blush?

—

“This is a bad idea, why are you trying to provoke an old ass vampire who could quite literally kill everyone in this building within a blink of an eye,” I frantically ask Damon as he leads me into an empty office in the Mayor’s house. 

“He’s not going to kill us, he made a deal,” Damon responds nonchalantly but from the look in his eyes, I don’t think he truly believes himself either. 

“You’re quite right Damon, I did make a deal,” I whip around to see Elijah coming into the office and shutting the door behind him, “But, I made a deal with Elena, not you. So tell me, what can I help you with?”

“I was hoping we could have a word,” Damon smirks at him.

“Where is Elena?”

“Safe with Stefan. Laying low, you know bit of a werewolf problem,” Damon answers his question. Elijah nods his head. And my eyes watch as his fingers draw circles on the chair he’s leaning on. 

“Oh, yeah. I heard about that,” Elijah responds and I glance up from his hands to see him staring at me with a small smirk on his face. Fuck, please god tell me he didn’t see me ogling his fucking fingers. He taps his index and pointer finger twice on the leather seat in front of him once more as if he knows that’ll answer the question I just asked myself. I whip my view from him to the wall beside me as Damon and Elijah keep talking. Although I can't see him I can still feel Elijah’s eyes burning holes onto the side of my head. 

“I’m sure you did since it was your witch who saved the day.”

“You are welcome.”

“Which adds to my confusion on exactly why you’re here,” Damon stop fucking questioning him before he rips your throat out!

“Why don’t you just stay focused on keeping Elena safe and leave the rest to me,” Elijah turns like he’s about to leave and I release a breath but Damon speeds in front of him stopping him.

“Not good enough.”

I sit there holding my breath, as Elijah stands there still looking at Damon.

“Elskan,” Elijah turns his head to glance at me, “Please turn back to the wall.” 

I don’t fight him on this as I whip back around and continue staring at the wall I had previously stared at. I flinch when I hear Damon hit the wall by the desk. I almost gag when I hear the sound of bones cracking and Damon grunting in pain. 

“You young vampires, so arrogant. How dare you come in here and challenge me?”

“You can’t kill me, man. It’s not part of the deal.”

“Silence,” Within another second a squelching sound hits my ears and Damon starts grunting in pain. I’m glad Elijah gave me the heads up or I’d be throwing up right now. 

“I’m an original. Show a little respect. The moment you cease to be of use to me, you’re dead. So, you should do what I say. Keep Elena safe.”

I hear Elijah’s footsteps retreat towards to door but I hold my breath as they stop.

“Elskan,” I slowly turn and quickly avert my gaze from the bloody Damon and look up at Elijah who is standing at the door, “I will be seeing you shortly.” He stares at me momentarily before speeding away. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

—

“Why am I here again,” I question Damon as he leads me and Alaric into his mansion of a house. 

“Because I needed a drink asap,” He turns over his shoulder to look at me, “Unless you’re offering?” 

I cringe in disgust as Alaric comes to stand in front of me. 

“Leave her alone Damon,” Damon just rolls his eyes and makes his way to the couch, and pours himself a drink.

“Let me talk to him for a few minutes then I’ll take you home myself,” Alaric sends me a small smile, and even though I know there are no bad intentions in his proposition being alone with an older man I barely know unsettles me. But since it’s getting dark outside and I live on the outskirts of town, I need a ride. Better a history teacher than an alcoholic vampire. 

“Ok, thanks,” I send him a small smile and then turn to Damon, “Where’s your bathroom?” I glance down the neverending hallway.

Damon throws his hand up and waves it around nonchalantly, “There’s like 30 of them, go hunting.” Alaric sends me a sad smile and gestures towards the hallway to our right. I nod and walk away from the men 

After five minutes of walking down hallways and opening up random doors, I find myself in a bathroom bigger than my entire living room. Fucking rich people. After using the bathroom and wiping my face with water to try to wake myself up I start walking back towards where I think the living room was. I freeze though when I notice I don’t hear Damon’s annoying voice, matter of fact I don’t hear anything at all. I get a bad feeling in my gut so I go to turn back around but something smashes into my skull and the world goes black. 

— 

“Ah, there she is. Morning sweetheart,” I frown as an unfamiliar voice grates my eardrums. Mixed with the pounding headache I have I think I’m going to be sick. God, I have got to start taking Tums. I try to move but something cold and heavy is holding me back. I slowly open my eyes to see chains wrapped around me holding me in place in a chair. No matter how hard I try they won’t budge. 

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing,” A man’s voice registers as I look up to see an ugly-looking man staring down at me. The look in his eyes makes my heart drop to my ass. I flinch back as he drags his finger down my face and fight the urge to cry as the finger makes its descent down toward to center of my chest. 

“Leave her alone,” Damon, who I’ve now realized is sitting next to me chained up and bloody, yells at the man. The man only laughs sickly but thankfully lifts his hands away from me.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt her,” He claims but the look in his eyes has me thinking otherwise. Damon must think this as well because he lets out a low growl. 

“He might not hurt her but I will,” I woman’s voice chimes in but before I can find where it’s coming from a sharp pain slashes into my leg and I scream out as waves of agony wash over me. Damon’s yells are all I hear as I look down to my thigh which now has a small dagger in it. Tears involuntarily spill out of my eyes as my blurry vision looks up to see my assailant. A blonde woman stares down at me with a smile, but nothing about it is friendly and warm. Her smile deepens as she reaches her hand back down and within another moment I’m screaming again as she pulls the knife from my leg. 

“You fucking bitch,” I cry out, resulting in a deep laugh from her. 

“Hey, fleabag! Leave her alone alright, I’m the one who pissed all over your kibble, come stab me.” Damon tries to coax the woman. 

She just smiles again, “We want the moonstone. Where is it?”

“Get over it, honey. You’re never going to get it.”

I verbally groan at Damon’s response and try to fight back against the waves of tiredness of feeling. I know with the amount of blood I’m losing that if I go to sleep now I’m most likely not waking up. And there’s no way I’m letting this bitch with dead ends be the reason I meet my demise. 

“Looking for this,” I almost let out a cry of relief as I looked up to see Elijah leaning against a wooden pillar. His nonchalant attitude instantly changes as I catch his eye. His dark eyes furiously move over my face, his nose crinkles (almost cutely), and his eyes look down to my bleeding thigh. My once-white dress is now as red as the ribbon in my hair. 

I try to stay awake as Elijah makes his way down the staircase with the stone in his hands. My eyes keep opening and shutting though as my vision keeps blurring. I hear bits and pieces of screams and bones cracking before I feel the weight of the chains around me disappear and a warm hand raises to my lips. 

“That’s my girl, come now Elskan. Drink.”

—

I wake up in my bed with a loud groan. My hands stretch out beside me as I feel the white fabric of the comforter. Wait. White? I quickly sit up and instantly regret it as a wash-up pain flows through my body. But the fear that I had just awoken in a bed that is not my trumps that pain. What the fuck happened last night? “You’re awake, wonderful,” A deep voice comes from the edge of the room, “We have much to discuss, Elskan.”

[achilles-rage]

Good Luck Charm: Chapter 6

college football player!buck x plus size!reader

summary: you go to the coffee shop with elijah, making you miss your meeting with evan. he has many questions the next day, which means some feelings are revealed.

word count: 3.1k

previous chapter

series masterlist

A/N: i have nothing to say other than i love how this turned out. enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, fem!reader, inexperienced!reader, race inclusive!reader

The next Tuesday, you’re at the coffee shop with Elijah like you planned, and he will not stop asking you questions. You happily answer them at first, but the more he asks, the more ridiculous his questions get, until you’re explaining the most basic points of the class to him. You’re also a little pissed off because you were supposed to hang out with Evan today, but it was long past the time you were supposed to meet him, and you had to text him and tell him you wouldn’t be able to make it.

He’s talking so much that you don’t even have time to read Evan’s texts, asking you where you are and if you’re okay. As bored as you are, you don’t want to be rude and check your phone. You have a fake smile plastered to your face as you listen to him speak, chiming in every now and then, but your thoughts are completely on Evan.

“I really appreciate you helping me out. I’ve been meaning to talk to you since the start of classes.” Elijah tells you after a couple hours, leaning closer to you across the table as your eyes widen slightly. The smile drops from your face. Evan was right, you think, maybe this isn’t about class at all. You’re not used to this kind of attention, so you’re surprised at his words.

“Oh?” you ask in a soft voice, nervously, as if speaking quietly enough would make him drop the subject. You aren’t looking forward to this. If you hadn’t met Evan, you’re sure you would’ve been giddy at the idea of Elijah wanting to talk to you, but he hardly compares to the stupid blue eyed man you’ve gotten to know. Plus, Evan’s words about not wanting you to go out with him are currently echoing through your head.

“Yeah. I was actually wondering if you wanted to hang out again? No class work. Like, a date?” he asks, his voice full of hope as he looks at you expectantly. You sigh, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to think of what to say.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I liked helping you out, but, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” you tell him softly with an apologetic smile on your face, as if raising your voice any more would make your words any more harsh. He clears his throat, looking down at his empty coffee cup as he nods.

“Yeah, right. Of course. No problem.” he says awkwardly. He starts packing up his stuff quickly as he stands up, and you watch him with guilt in your eyes. As happy as you are that you can finally leave, you feel bad.

“I’ll see you in class?” you ask, starting to pack your stuff up, giving him a small smile. You don’t want him to feel bad, and you dread the awkwardness you’ll have to endure for the rest of the semester. He’s nice enough, but you just can’t get your mind off of Evan.

“Uh, yeah, right. I’ll see you later. Thanks again.” he says quickly, giving you a nod before leaving the coffee shop. You get up slowly, giving him a minute before you leave and make your way home. You were supposed to meet Evan over an hour ago, and he’s probably already at home by now. You don’t want to make him walk back to campus to meet you, so you decide not to text him. You’ll see him tomorrow, anyway.

“Why couldn’t you hang out yesterday?” Evan asks immediately when he sees you, falling into step with you as you walk out of your class, his brows furrowed. He’s learned your schedule by now, and he knows where to go if he wants to talk to you. And he desperately wants to talk to you about this. You haven’t cancelled on him in the almost 4 weeks you’ve known each other, and you didn’t give him a reason when he texted you. You told him you were sorry, but you didn’t feel like typing out your whole explanation over text. Knowing him, he’d probably call you immediately, wanting to know every. single. detail.

And you really didn’t want to deal with that over the phone.

“I went out with Elijah, he had a lot of questions, we stayed late at the coffee shop.” you tell him, rolling your eyes with a smile as you see his jaw clench instinctively. He raises a brow and gestures for you to continue, hoping this story doesn’t end how he thinks it might. He really hopes you staying late doesn’t mean that you were having a good time, and he was losing you.

“He, uh, asked me out.” you mention after a moment, ducking your head slightly as you keep walking, waiting for his reaction. He’s probably going to say “I told you so,” and you don’t want to hear it.

He stops walking and grabs your arm to stop you too. He spins you gently to face him, ducking his head slightly to match your height better.

“What did you say?” he says through gritted teeth, his jealousy bubbling up as he thinks about you alone with Elijah. His hands on you, rather than his own.

“I said no.” you tell him, biting your lip as you wait for his reaction. You assume he’ll be relieved, having clearly stated his dislike for the guy, but you selfishly want to pretend he cares about you not going out with him for more reasons than just a general dislike for him.

“Why?” he asks after a moment. He’s staring at you intently, eyes trying to search for any sign of you actually liking Elijah.

“You said you didn’t want me to.” you state, shrugging as if that was the only reason you needed. He lets out a quiet sigh and looks down, nodding slowly as he shoves his hands in his pockets, feeling slightly relieved.

“Was there any other reason?” His eyes dart up to your face again, licking his lips as he waits for your reply. You shrug, biting your lip as you avert your gaze from his, your skin heating up as you think about what to say. He takes in your nervous stance, and the gears are turning in his head as he tries to figure out what you’re thinking. Maybe he was right before, he thinks, maybe you did like him, and that’s why you’re so nervous around him. As you start to stutter out a fake response, he grabs your wrist and tugs you into an empty classroom.

“What are you-” you get out before his lips are on yours, using one hand on the back of your neck to guide you up to him. He’s holding you firmly, but gently enough that you can pull away if he’s painfully wrong about your feelings for him.

Your lips meet his in a dizzying kiss and his other hand moves to your hip, pulling you flush against him. He groans softly as he feels your chest and tummy push against his torso, and he tilts your head further up into the kiss.

It takes a moment for you to kiss him back, eyes wide as you realize that his lips are on yours. You close your eyes after a moment, kissing him deeply. He bites down on your lip gently, making you gasp softly, which allows him to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your mind goes blank as you kiss him, and you’re unsure of what to do, other than put your hands on his chest and kiss him back. He’s resisting every urge to take you in the middle of this classroom, and after a minute, he turns you and pushes your back against the door he kicked closed after he pulled you in. You whimper softly as your back hits the door, trailing one of your hands up his chest to his jaw and arching your back slightly as you try to somehow get any closer than you already are.

You continue to kiss him for a little longer, until you feel his hands slowly going from your hips to your ass, squeezing it roughly. You suddenly realize where you are and what you’re doing, and pull back with wide eyes, looking up at him nervously.

“We can’t.” you whisper. You trail your hand back down to his chest as you look up at him, noticing the lust in his eyes.

“Why? We’re alone, no one is around.” he teases softly, slowly leaning back in again to meet your lips. You push him back softly, shaking your head with a small laugh.

“Not here.” you whisper, feeling your stomach fill with a newfound nervousness. Location aside, you’ve never done anything like this before, and you feel you’re just now remembering that. As much as you want to keep kissing him, you’re filled with dread. Scared that you’ll do the wrong thing.

“Then where, princess? Where can I have you all to myself?” he asks desperately, itching to have his lips back on you, pulling soft whimpers from your pretty lips. He ducks his head as your eyes wander down to your hands on his chest, smoothing the fabric down to keep yourself grounded.

“I don’t know.” you reply, voice barely audible.

“I wanna take you back to my place. Now.” he tells you roughly, the hand on the back of your head moving to your jaw and tilting your head up. You can’t help but smile at his eagerness, but you can’t ignore the way your stomach is churning.

“I have class in an hour.” you try to reason. You really do have class, but you’re mostly just too nervous to continue this right now, and you figure it’s an easy way out. You feel like you need to hype yourself up to what he’s alluding to.

“Skip it. It’s only the fourth week of classes, you have some time to catch up. I can think of something else much better for you to do than sit in class, anyway.” he purrs, lowering his face to your neck, kissing it softly.

“You’re a bad influence.” you tease softly, but you can’t help but tilt your head back as he kisses you. You move your arms to wrap around his neck, resting your forearms on his shoulders as your hands dangle behind his head.

“You have no idea, princess. Just wait until I get you alone in my house. You’ll see just how bad of an influence I can be.” he whispers in your ear, smirking to himself. You may be stubborn, but all he’s thinking of right now is how you’d look sprawled under him on his bed, and he’s dying to get you to agree.

You bite your lip, trying not to let a noise escape your mouth as your heartbeat quickens. You’re fighting the urge to give in, and you know you should push him away. He seems to pick up on you trying to keep quiet, too focused on his mouth on your neck to respond, and he leans back to meet your gaze. He sees the unsure look in your eyes; your eyes wide and pupils blown as you look up at him, speechless.

“You’re so damn cute when you get all shy, princess, but don’t think that it’ll save you when I take you back to my place.” He knows this will make your breath catch in your throat and stutter out your words, and that’s exactly what he wants. It’s becoming clear to him that you’re not completely used to this type of attention, and he wants to make you squirm.

“Save me from what?” you ask, tilting your head to the side. Your brain is so fuzzy from the kiss that you can barely think, his suggestive tone going completely over your head.

“From everything I plan on doing to you when we get there. I have a feeling you’ve never been properly taken care of before, and I’m going to change that.” He smirks down at you as your eyes widen slightly before you look down. He knows you’re on the edge of giving in, so he asks you again.

“Please tell me you’ll come with me now.” he all but begs, a sense of urgency in his voice. He feels the stiffness in his jeans, and he would do just about anything to get you to go home with him. Now.

You feel your hands shaking slightly as he looks down at you, waiting desperately for your answer. You swallow and let out a shaky breath as you weigh out the options in your head. On one hand, you want to go with him so bad, imagining how his hands would feel on you. But on the other hand, you really do have class, nervousness aside. Your nerves are at an all time high as you think about being alone with him in his room, trying to keep up with his very obvious experience. You close your eyes for a moment before opening them again and speaking.

“I can’t.” you whisper as you look back up at him, feeling a little bad when you see his face fall. He nods after a moment, clearing his throat and backing away from you.

“Okay.” He’s not angry, far from it. He’s a little disappointed, but he can sense your nervousness, feeling the way your hands were shaking slightly while they rested on his chest. He isn’t going to push you into it. That’s the last thing he wants to do.

“Are you still good to go to the library later?” he asks after a moment, trying to ease your nerves by pretending that everything is normal. He smiles softly when you nod.

“Good. I better go, I was supposed to be in class 10 minutes ago. Got distracted,” he says with a grin, winking at you. “See you later, princess.”

He turns and opens the door, but stops suddenly as if he forgot something. He turns back to you, grabbing your chin and bringing your lips to his for a quick kiss, then pulls back and turns back to the door.

You nod mindlessly, still thinking about the way his lips felt on yours. You blink slowly and lick your lips, feeling yourself lower back to reality once you can’t feel his presence anymore. You’re still reeling from the kiss, and your knees feel weak as you slowly make your way outside to a picnic table in the courtyard. You pull out your laptop and try to do some work before your next lecture, but your thoughts are consumed by how he felt pressed up against you.

When you meet at the library later, you’re finally able to calm your nerves, but your heart starts to race as soon as you see his face. You’re not sure how to react around him now. This is completely new to you, so you try to act the exact same as before he kissed you.

He tries to go at your pace, resisting the urge to kiss you as you try to focus on your assignment, but it’s hard. His eyes keep making their way down your body, and he can’t seem to take his eyes off your soft tummy. Your whole body makes him weak, but he thinks he likes your belly the most. He likes how it moves when you laugh, and how he can see its soft imprint when you’re wearing something more form fitting. All he wants to do is touch and kiss it until you’re giggling and squirming under him.

You try to ignore the way his eyes are moving down your figure, as it’s making you even more nervous and shaky, but it’s almost impossible. You keep your eyes on your laptop, as he speaks to you, pursing your lips as you try to remain as neutral as possible.

“What’s got you so jumpy today, princess?” he teases, resting his head on his hand as he leans on the table, body angled at you.

“Nothing.” you say, trying to keep the smile off your face as you see his smirk from the corner of your eye. He parts his lips slightly as he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek, eyes glancing down to your lips yet again.

“That’s harsh.” he teases, which makes you laugh softly and shake your head. You momentarily forget that you’re supposed to be nervous, and you turn to look at him with a glint in your eye.

“Do you have to be like this all the time?” He chuckles softly, shrugging.

“You love it, and you know it. I like making you squirm.” he affirms, leaning closer to you. You look back at your screen, laughing softly, until you realize the time.

“Don’t you have practice soon?” you alert him, which makes him groan and tilt his back. His mind is so occupied by you that he completely forgot about practice. He knows he can’t miss it. His coach would kill him if he skipped, but he wants to stay here with you.

“Yeah, whatever. I guess I should go.” he huffs after a moment, taking one last opportunity to check you out. You let out a sad sigh. You know he has to go to practice, but you really don’t want to part ways with him yet. You start to pack up your laptop, standing up as he does.

As soon as you exit the library and are about to part ways, he stops you, making you look up at him.

“Good luck kiss for the road?” he asks in a slightly teasing tone, but his eyes are hopeful. You laugh softly, nodding as you lean up on your toes and giving him a quick peck. He tries to deepen the kiss by putting a hand on your jaw, but you pull away, looking around campus in slight embarrassment about your PDA.

“Go to practice, Buckley.” you tell him sternly, but he knows you’re not being serious because of the smile plastered to your face.

“Yes ma’am.” he replies smugly, giving you one last peck before he takes a few steps back, winking before he finally turns and walks toward the stadium. You watch him for a moment with a smile before you turn and start walking toward your apartment. You can’t wait to tell your roommate about your day, knowing you won’t be able to hide it from her for long.

next chapter

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[frost-queen]

Love doesn't expire (Reader x Elijah Mikaelson)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, @panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn

Summary: Elijah and you get married in the 18th century. One day when you get hurt, your husband can't control himself, caving for blood. Rather fascinated by him, you aren't scared at all. Once your husband explains what he is, you ask him to turn you as well. Wanting to stay with him forever. Elijah does so, feeling guilty afterwards, making him leave you. In modern times you befriend Elena till one day you encounter your long lost husband once more. Demanding an explination from him. [ Happy birthday to you anon ask!]

Elijah watched as girls were holding hands, dancing in a circle. Spring was arriving so there was a celebration for the season. Amongst them a girl with flowers in her hairs. Her smile so radiant it captured Elijah to the bone. Unable to keep his gaze away from her. From you. You let go of the girl’s hands, spinning around breathless. Your eyes fell upon him, smiling whilst catching your breath.

A girl bumped into you, making you stumble forwards. Elijah rushed over as you had just stumbled a bit forwards. You took a hold of his wrist, smiling mischievous. Before Elijah could react, you pulled him with you into the circle of dancers around the big rooted tree. Grabbing him, you joined him in the dance.

Hopping around the tree with a constant smile on your lips. Elijah felt a bit shy at first, knowing his siblings were watching from somewhere. But soon his shyness faded away when he only had eyes for you. The village girl with flowers in her hair.

You gasped soft when Elijah pressed you against the wall in some alleyway. Smiling before he kissed your lips tenderly. Then forcefully. It was as instant as spring came. The love you were feeling for Elijah and the love he had for you. Not a month later, he introduced you to his siblings. Shared with them that you were going to get married. Niklaus was at first opposed to it. Telling Elijah it was wrong to love you. Rebekah had always been supportive.

Seeing the love you had for each other. Despite Niklaus’s interference, Elijah and you got married.  It was a blissful day. You came to live with Elijah in the manor. His siblings lived in an estate nearby. Close, but not close enough to invade your private life. Life was good, life was wonderous with your husband. A husband who didn’t hold any secrets from you… or did he?

Elijah was working in the garden, unrooting a stomp. He paused for a moment, wiping some sweat of his forehead. From a distance he saw you, tending to the roses. He smiled seeing how gentle you were with them. You turned your head to look back at him. Raising your hand with a bubbly smile. Elijah blew you a kiss from afar. You pretended to catch it and pressing it close to your heart. Elijah returned to his work. Nearly having unrooted the stomp.

It stood in the way of the beautiful garden. Elijah grunted, easing in his strength to not draw suspicion to you. Then his eyes widened. The strong scent of blood filling his nostrils at it alerted his brain. He couldn’t help it, but the dark veins around his eyes started to show. Sharp fangs coming out, needing blood. It has been almost months since he last tasted human blood. Keeping his identity secret to you. He looked away, panting loud to supress his hunger.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw you were holding your finger. Most likely you had pricked yourself on one of the thorns. Elijah tore his gaze away, fighting the primal instinct inside of him. His head pounded with desperation for blood, making him press his hands against it.

Unable to control himself any longer, he went over to you. You looked up, noticing your husband suddenly close. – “Oh, Elijah.” – you said as he knelt down beside you, drawing your bleeding finger closer to him. – “It is but a small sting.” – you told him that it was truly nothing. He didn’t need to worry for a little prick. Elijah took in a deep breath, taking in the smell of your blood. – “Allow me.” – he responded bringing your finger closer to him. You smiled expecting him to wrap a handkerchief around it. Instead he brought your finger to his lips, sucking on the blood.

It made you furrow your brows, feeling his tongue brush over your finger. Elijah’s eyes darkened as he kept licking your bleeding finger. The blood wasn’t enough but it satisfied him. You reached out with your other hand to his cheek, touching the area just beneath his eyes. Fascinated by the dark veins. Your touch made Elijah pull away, suddenly aware of what he was doing.

He got up, rubbing his lips and strode off. – “Elijah?” – you said confused to why your husband was suddenly gone. Getting up, you went after him. You knew exactly where to find him. In the library. His hands firmly on the desk, his back turned towards the door. You knocked gently, entering.

“Elijah…” – you started not sure if he wanted you present. – “Go…go away Y/n.” – Elijah responded breathless. You ignored his warning, drawing nearer. Touching his shoulders, Elijah eased in. He slowly turned towards you, seeing those gentle eyes of yours. He couldn’t resist those eyes. He’d do anything for them.

You reached for his cheek again, seeing that the veins had disappeared. Elijah took your hand before it could touch him. – “Y/n please…” – he begged, not wanting you to saddle with his torment. – “Enlighten me.” – you asked. Elijah sighed not able to resist saying no to you.

He cupped your cheeks, explaining everything. Explaining to you that he was a vampire. Requiring blood. Once you understood, you offered him your wrist. Elijah stared confused at you. – “You need it to survive do you not?” – you asked as he nodded. – “I am offering it to you.”

Elijah gently took your wrist. You smiled with a soft nod, letting him know it was alright. You gazed wonderous at him when his fangs appeared. You quietly yelped when they bit through your flesh. The weird sensation it left on you, was unfamiliar and fascinating at once. Elijah grabbed you tighter to get his grip firmer on you. Seeing him feast on you was something that strangely didn’t bother you. Elijah let go, gasping loud. Blood dripping down your wrist as you stared at the wound on your wrist.

Elijah pulled out a handkerchief wrapping it around your wrist to stop the bleeding. – “Can… can you make me like you?” – you asked, catching Elijah by surprise. – “Why would you?” – he replied confused. – “Can we not be together forever than?” – you questioned. Elijah nodded. – “Don’t… don’t you love me enough for that? Am I just an insignificant small memory in your long life?” – you started to doubt yourself. Knowing he would love a dozen more girls after you.

Elijah held his other hand on the handkerchief around your wrist. – “You are not insignificant. Not even close.” – he answered with caring eyes. He kissed your knuckles, never taking his gaze off you. – “Then love me forever.” – you told him. Elijah let his knuckles brush against your cheek. He removed the handkerchief from your wrist, now stained with blood. Your wrist was still bleeding as Elijah took a bite in his own wrist.

He offered you his wrist. – “It will help it heal.” – he told you. You took his wrist, moving it to your mouth. It was strange tasting his blood in your mouth. You kept sucking it, drinking his blood till he pulled away. Looking down at your wrist, you saw the wound disappear. In wonder you stared at your healed wrist, letting your fingers brush over it. That night you prepared yourself for bed. Your words echoing in Elijah’s head. Then love me forever. He couldn’t shake them off. His love for you beyond describing. – “Elijah are you coming to bed?” – you called out from the other room.

Elijah closed his eyes before joining you in the bedroom. You paused, getting in bed. Sheet lifted up as one leg was already in. – “Is everything alright darling?” – you asked as he seemed a bit off. Distant. An impulsive thought crossed Elijah’s mind and he couldn’t shake it off. He rushed over to you, standing before you in a second. His hands around your neck as he turned it, snapping your neck in a split second.

Your body fell weightless as he caught your falling body before hitting the matrass. Looking down at your body, he came to a sense of what he had just done. Your colour fading. He carefully laid you down, hoping you would wake up again. Knowing he had to live with the consequences of his impulsive thoughts.

You awoke many hours later, feeling an emptiness in your stomach. Elijah knew what it was. The first hunger. He offered you his blood, before you could fully process what was happening. Knowing he had finalized the process of turning. The following weeks, Elijah had turned silent. Crawling back in his shell as he watched you. Watched you juggle your normal life with your new life. This wasn’t what he imagined. Not even close. One day after a decade, he vanished.

*

A car pulled over. You got out, slamming the door shut behind you. You had been touring the world for the past decades now and found yourself in a godforsaken town in need of gas. Mystic falls. Car broken down before you could reach a gas station, you had to walk. Taking out a flask from your trunk, you started the long walk in search for gas. For miles there was nothing but woods. Finally you reached a bit of town as it made you roll your eyes.

Great one of those towns that got stuck in the 1800’s. – “Now for gas, let’s hope you have it.” – you sighed out, doubting if a time stuck town like this even had a gas station. You neared a bar, deciding to head in and ask before you searched every corner of this town. The mystic grill. All heads turned when you entered. You ignored them, knowing they probably weren’t used to outsiders.

Heading straight for the bar. – “What can I get you?” – the boy behind the bar asked, cleaning his hands on a towel. You set the flask on the counter. – “I need gas, do you have a station around?” – you answered. – “Car broke down?” – he responded. It made you roll your eyes. – “Yes, now do you have gas?”

A girl came nearer as you noticed her. – “Not for a long drive. Where is your car at?” – she asked. You sighed soft. – “By the sign.” – you told her. She mouthed a wow. – “That was a long walk.” – she said making you hum in response. – “Well I can always give you a ride?” – she suggested. – “Elena.” – the bartender said with warning eyes. Elena ignored him. – “We’ll fill up there and I’ll bring you back to your car. How does that sound?” – she asked.

“Well that sounds awfully nice Elena.” – you responded. Elena got up taking her purse. – “I’m Y/n by the way.” – you told her. Elena led you to her car. You got in at the passengers seat. On the way to the gas station, Elena and you got talking. Sharing some interest as it felt nice to talk to someone. You had always been alone on your rides. It can be lonely from time to time with no one to talk to in the car.

Elena rode up to the gas station. You got out as you got your gas. Returning to her car, she drove to where your car was parked. You were filling up your car as Elena leaned against your car. – “Are you staying long or passing through?” – she asked. – “Passing through.” – you answered finishing.

“You know… it’s getting late… you should probably eat.” – Elena spoke making you quirk your eyebrow up. – “Is that an invitation to stay?” – you answered intrigued. – “Maybe.” – Elena responded shy. You laughed coming up to her. – “Are you cooking?” – you asked. – “Only for you.” – she chuckled in return. You got in your car, riding behind Elena to her house. A night, turned into a day, into three days, into almost a week now. A week now you got stuck at Mystic falls. Not leaving just yet. Elena and you had become great friends.

“I know this great place.” – Elena said pulling at your arm to get you to follow her. – “Let me guess another founding father thing?” – you teased her with. Elena shook her head. – “Something more modern.” – she laughed out. – “Now you are talking.” – you responded moving along with her. Elena had her arm locked around yours as you walked over the town square.

You saw a small café pulling Elena to a stop. – “Quick bathroom stop.” – you told her, running inside. Elena waited outside. – “Elena Gilbert.” – she suddenly heard. Elena’s eyes widened briefly till she narrowed them bothered. – “Elijah.” – she responded annoyed.

Elijah chuckled moving one hand in his pocket. – “Where’s your lousy brother?” – she asked looking around.  Elijah smiled. – “My brother isn’t here so no need for you to be so tense.” – Elijah responded, sensing how tense her muscles were. – “Then what do you want.” – she called out. – “Can’t a man just say hello?” – he answered innocently. – “It’s never that innocent with you originals.” – Elena fired back.

“Elena I’m ready.” – you said getting out of the café. Coming to a sudden stop at the sight of Elijah. Elijah’s eyes widened, removing his hand from his pocket. Elena looked confused between the two of you. – “Y/n…” – Elijah breathed out. The shock in your eyes turned to anger. You rushed over to Elijah, grabbing him firm by his throat. – “Where have you been love?” – you told him bitsy. Elijah choked under your grip. – “Tell me how many years have it been? Decades? A hundred years?” – you called out.

Puffing annoyed afterwards. – “Y/n.” – Elijah grunted trying to catch his breath. You squeezed harder. – “Didn’t think you would see me again when you left me for dead!” – you spitted out pushing him off. Elijah stumbled to the ground, rolling over. He coughed loud, touching his neck.

“You know him?” – Elena asked. – “You mean my dear husband who vanished!” – you replied angered, wanting to have another go at him. Elijah held his hand out, slowly getting up. – “Y/n… please…” – Elijah started. You puffed mockingly, crossing your arms. – “Where the hell were you!” – you shouted. – “I waited days, weeks, years for you to come back. Wondering why you left me. Wondering what I had done wrong to be left alone like this. Tell me husband what did I say for you to pull the earth from around me and make me fall into a dark pit!” – All those years of anger, bubbling back up.

Elijah rushed over to you, grabbing you firm by your shoulders. – “I… I…” – he started not coming out of his words. – “What!” – you snapped at him. – “I felt guilty!” – he yelled. – “I… I shouldn’t have turned you. I wanted you to live a normal life. I took that from you. I couldn’t bear the guilt. Constantly reminded of it when I saw you. It was eating me alive.” – he confessed.

He exhaled deep lowering his head a bit. – “I never stopped loving you Y/n. I just couldn’t stop blaming myself for what I did. I regretted leaving you for all those years. I came back to our house, but you weren’t there. It only made the guilt worse that I couldn’t find you anymore.”

You blinked softly, staring back at him with those gentle eyes he had missed for so long. It made Elijah exhale adoringly that he could see them again. You grabbed Elijah, pressing your lips onto him. Your anger vanished in a matter of seconds. Elena swallowed nervously, looking away at the heated kiss between Elijah and you. Lips desperately on one another.

Needing to fill that longing. Elena eventually cleared her throat as she thought you were going to eat each other with the way you were kissing each other. Elijah and you pulled away, panting. – “Plan on leaving me again in a decade?” – you asked teasingly. Elijah shook his head. – “You are stuck with me for always and forever.” – he responded.

--------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists!

[wholoveseggs]

~♡~Dating the Mikaelsons~♡~

One-Shot Edition

18+ ---- {Masterlist}

♡A date with Klaus♡

After a long day at work, you just want to go home and relax. Fortunately Klaus knows exactly what you need to unwind.

In celebration of getting to one-hundred followers♡ I wrote some smutty one-shots based on my dating the mikaelsons headcanons.

♡ Thanks for all the love and support ♡

Warnings: smut, rough sex, biting, blowjobs, rim jobs, all the jobs...I firmly believe Klaus loves booty.

{Part Two -Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

After an exceedingly long day, exhaustion had fully seeped into your bones, leaving you feeling burdened and emotionally numb. Exiting your workplace, you headed towards your car, desperate to get home and relax. Rifling through your bag for your keys, you extracted them along with a neatly folded piece of paper.

Intrigued, you unfolded it, revealing a charming sketch of your profile gazing out of a café window. The guy you were seeing must have snuck it into your bag. You smiled, the thoughtfulness of it warming your heart. You pulled out your phone, sending him a thank-you text.

You

"I found your drawing, thank you. I've had a tough day, and this made it a bit better."

Nik

"Which one?"

You paused. There had been multiple drawings? You hadn't seen anything else in your bag. You typed back a quick reply.

You

"There was more than one?"

Nik

"Maybe..."

You unlocked your car, climbing into the seat, closing the door behind you, and pulling your bag onto your lap.

Sure enough, there were several more folded pieces of paper. You pulled them all out and unfolded them. The first was an intricate study of the hands of a man and woman, fingers laced together, palms touching. The second was a silly doodle of you, looking grumpy and flipping off the viewer.

You giggled. It was actually a great likeness. The next one made you blush and look around. It was an illustration of the two of you, nude, kissing in an intimate position. Your face was obscured by his, but the details were quite erotic.

Your body flushed at the thought of him touching you; you hadn't even kissed yet, let alone seen each other naked.

You

"I found the other ones, very creative," 

Nik

"I'm glad you like them, are you busy tonight?"

You paused. What did he want to do? You had planned on vegging out and watching some mindless television. But that sounded incredibly dull.

You

"No, why?"

Nik

"Good. I'll pick you up,"

You sighed, leaning your head back against the seat, feeling the butterflies in your stomach start to flutter. You had a feeling you were going to be staying up late.

You had no idea where he was taking you; Klaus hadn’t given you any hints, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he had planned.

You were sitting in the car with him, fidgeting with the hem of your dress. It was a beautiful evening, the sky painted a brilliant hue of purple and blue.

You glanced over at him, admiring how attractive he was. You knew that he was a vampire, a powerful one at that, but you didn't mind. You had known others, and none of them were dangerous. At least not to you.

"I thought we could take a walk; I want to show you some of my favorite places," he said as he drove.

"I would love to see them," you replied, smiling at him.

He parked the car, and the two of you climbed out, making your way down the street. It was a clear night, the air crisp and refreshing, and you could hear the sounds of traffic and the chatter of people from a distance.

Klaus walked close to you, his shoulder brushing against yours every few steps. His presence was soothing, and you felt comfortable with him. He casually took your hand in his, lacing his fingers with yours.

You looked up at him and smiled. He returned the smile, squeezing your hand.

"This is the park I like to draw in," he explained. "It's quiet, and the light is beautiful in the morning."

The two of you walked, talking and enjoying the view. He seemed to know a lot about the city and pointed out different buildings, sharing stories from his past.

You found yourself growing more and more attracted to him, the more he shared about himself.

"What was it like here, one hundred years ago?" you asked.

"It was different, but not that much. There were fewer people, and the buildings weren't as tall. It was quieter, I suppose."

You nodded, enjoying the sound of his voice. You loved hearing him talk; his accent was so alluring. You walked in silence for a while, and then he led you over to a bench, and the two of you sat.

"Can I tell you a secret?" he asked.

"Of course." you replied, giving him a gentle smile.

"I love this city; I helped make it what it is, but as time passes, sometimes I feel like I'm a stranger here."

You nodded, understanding, "You must see time so differently from me," you mused. "I can't imagine how it must feel."

He was silent for a moment, his eyes staring out into the darkness.

"It can be lonely," he said, finally. "But with you, I don't feel that way."

You intertwined your fingers with his, your heart beating rapidly in your chest. He leaned in, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear. His touch sent a shiver through you, and you found yourself wanting him.

You leaned forward, capturing his lips with yours. He kissed you softly, his lips warm and inviting. You felt his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. His hands wandered, caressing your back, and tangling in your hair.

You broke the kiss, looking into his pretty blue eyes, "Do you want to show me your place?" you asked, your voice a breathy whisper.

His eyes flashed, a smirk spreading across his face, "It would be my pleasure."

He took your hand, leading you back to the car. The drive to his place was filled with a heavy silence, both of you knowing what was about to happen.

You had seen the outside of the compound many times, but you had never been inside before; it was gorgeous, the décor was expensive and tasteful.

"Wow, your home is beautiful," you remarked, your heels clicking against the floor.

"Thank you," he said, smirking. "I decorated it myself."

The compound was quiet; everyone else was out or asleep. You followed him into his room, your heart racing.

He closed the door, turning to face you. He reached out, cupping your cheek. His touch was gentle and loving, his eyes filled with tenderness.

"You are so lovely," he murmured, his thumb stroking your skin.

You blushed, the heat rising in your cheeks. You placed your hands on his chest, running them up to his shoulders, feeling his muscles beneath his shirt.

You stepped closer, closing the distance between you. Your lips brushed against his, and you kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around you, his tongue slipping into your mouth. You moaned, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You pressed your body against his, feeling his hardness.

He pulled away, his eyes flashing yellow. He picked you up, carrying you over to the bed, laying you down gently. He climbed on top of you, his mouth trailing kisses along your neck and collarbone.

He lifted the dress off of you, tossing it aside. You laid there in nothing but your underwear, his gaze raking over your body.

"Nik," you breathed, your voice full of need.

He leaned down, his mouth on your breast, his tongue swirling over your nipple. You moaned, arching your back. You gasped, feeling his fingers sliding down your abdomen, and under the waistband of your panties.

"I've wanted this for so long," he whispered, his hands caressing your skin.

"So have I," you replied, lifting your head and pressing your lips to his.

His fingers circled your clit, eliciting moans from your lips. You closed your eyes, his touch was quickly driving you crazy, pushing you to the edge. He watched your face, a wicked grin on his lips.

"How do you like it, love?" he whispered, his voice low and seductive as his lips grazed your skin. 

You blushed, heat pooling between your legs. "I like it a little rough," you breathed, the words tumbling out of your mouth.

"I always suspected you were a naughty girl," he whispered, as he nibbled at your ear. You gasped, pleasure coursing through you.

He began to move down your body, leaving a trail of soft bites and kisses. He paused at your breasts, sucking on your nipples, his tongue swirling around them. You moaned, squirming beneath him.

He continued down, his teeth grazing your skin. He hooked a finger under your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs. You were completely exposed to him now, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

"Just beautiful," he breathed, as he dragged his teeth along your inner thigh.

He moved lower, kissing and licking your stomach. His hand slipped between your legs, his thumb grazing your clit.

"Nik," you moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders as he moved further down. 

He removed his hand, his tongue taking its place. He licked and sucked on your clit, his hands pushed your thighs up, giving him more room. You bucked your hips, grinding against his mouth.

He chucked, the vibrations causing a wave of pleasure to course through you. He pushed his tongue inside of you, moving it in and out, his nose grazing your clit.

You moaned, your hands tangling in his curly hair. "Fuck," you breathed, as his tongue drove you closer and closer to the edge.

His tongue moved lower than you expected, teasing your ass. Your eyes widened, a thrill of strange pleasure running through you, your hips jumped and you instinctively tried to push away from him. 

"Mmm, love," he whispered, "you like when I do that, don’t you?"

You blushed, heat rising in your cheeks. You nodded, biting your lip.

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you whimpered, your head falling back against the pillow.

He returned his tongue to your ass, teasing and probing it, sending sparks of pleasure through you. Pressing his thumb firmly against your clit, Klaus maintained a rhythm that matched the dance of his tongue. Circles and teasing strokes sent waves of pleasure through you, the combination of sensations leaving you breathless, gripping the sheets as you trembled underneath him. Just when you thought you couldn't take any more, he pushed his tongue in your ass just as he lightly pinched your clit and you cried out, your whole body shaking from the force of your orgasm.

You were spent and panting, gripping Klaus’s hair so hard you nearly tore it out. He chuckled and buried his face deeper in your ass, groaning in pleasure. He swirled his fingers around your clit, feeling how wet you were before he pushed two fingers inside your pussy, hitting your sweet spot.

"Fuck!" you moaned, unable to believe how good it felt. He smiled and continued his assault, pumping his fingers in and out while keeping his mouth busy. His grip on you was almost painful as he held your hips in place, burying his face between your cheeks, his tongue deep inside you. 

The soft, wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of your pussy mingled with his labored breathing. He pushed them in deeper, fucking you harder, each thrust making you moan uncontrollably. You were in a state of pure ecstasy, your whole body tingling, every inch of you vibrating with pleasure. You could feel his groans and grunts reverberating through you, and you pushed against him, desperate for more. 

The pressure built inside you until you felt like you were about to explode. You pulled on his hair, pushing back against him with everything you had as you reached your climax. Your whole body trembled as you came, your orgasm washing over you in waves of pure bliss. The sound of his groans as he devoured you filled the room, adding to your ecstasy.

You slumped against the bed, a trembling wreck. Klaus withdrew, leaving you feeling empty, but sated. He wiped his mouth and chin and grinned, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. He kissed his way back up your body, his hands caressing your skin.

"No one's ever done that for you before?" he asked, his eyes dark with desire.

You shook your head, blushing.

"Good," he replied, he hovered over you, giving you a mischievous grin. Your fingers trailed down his chest then towards his stomach, tugging at his shirt. He lifted his arms, allowing you to remove it. Your hands explored his body, fingers tracing over his muscles, committing him to memory. He smiled, enjoying your touch as you placed soft kisses on his chest, looking up into his eyes.

He leaned down, his lips capturing yours. His kisses were hungry and desperate, his hands squeezing your curves. You grasped at his belt, unbuckling it, and pulling it off. You reached into his pants, wrapping your hand around his cock, smirking as he lets out a low moan. You began to stroke him, feeling him grow harder, maintaining eye contact as you watched him groan with pleasure.

"Love," he panted, his voice thick with arousal.

"Can I taste you?" you ask, your breath ghosting over him. He nods in response, his hips bucking as you continue to stroke him.

He moved on to his back, keeping his eyes fixed on you as you lay kisses down his neck and chest, the feeling of your warm lips making him pant. Your hand never left his cock, never once slowing, and he watched as you used your other hand to gently pinch his nipple, making him hiss out a breath, his teeth clamping together. You felt empowered as you watched him melt under your touch, the big bad hybrid brought to his knees with just your hands. You trailed your tongue from his chest, lower, and lower, not even trying to hide how much you were enjoying his responses.

You finally reached his cock, settling yourself between his legs and looking up at him with innocent, doe eyes. You smirked, holding his gaze as you gripped his cock and slid the head between your parted lips, swirling your tongue around his tip, eliciting a deep guttural groan from him. You lowered yourself down on his throbbing length, taking as much of him as you could handle. Then you slowly pulled off, his cock wet with your saliva, and he moaned, his hands fisting the sheets.

"Do you like that, Nik?" You asked in your most innocent tone. Giving the head of his cock kitten licks as you watched his face. 

"Yes," he moaned, his hips jerking. You plunged him into your mouth again, and took him deeper than before. He moaned and thrust his hips up as you worked him with your mouth, his hand coming to tangle in your hair, guiding you. You teased him with your tongue, licking and flicking it over the veins, taking him deep into your mouth and then pulling off with a pop.

"What about this?" You asked, teasing him some more, relishing in the power you had over him. You felt a surge of heat and wetness pool between your thighs, anticipating what he was going to do to you if you pushed him too far.

He growled in frustration and grabbed your hair roughly, pushing your head down on his cock, holding you in place as he thrusted into your mouth. You reached between his legs, stroking his balls, and he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening.

You continued to bob up and down on his cock, loving the way his hips jerked as he got closer and closer to his orgasm. You could feel his balls tighten, and you knew he was about to come.

You pushed your head all the way down, your nose pressing into his pelvis, you let out a soft hum, pushing him over the edge. He let out a low groan as he came, his cum spilling down your throat, you swallowed every last drop.

He released his grip, and you pulled off his cock, gasping for air. You held out your tongue to him, showing him you swallowed it all, and he let out a low, primal growl, snatching you by your hair and crashing his lips against yours. You breathed heavily, your heart pounding as you kissed him back, feeling the stubble scratch at your chin.

His hands slid down to your waist, his fingers digging into your hips and suddenly you were across the room, pressed against the wall, you let out a shocked gasp, clinging to his shoulders.  He gripped the backs of your thighs and hiked your legs around his waist, using one hand to tease his cock up and down your entrance.

"Nik," you whispered, your voice full of surprise and desire.

"Have you ever been bitten?" He asked, you could feel his warm breath against your neck.

"No, I've never been with a vampire before," you replied breathlessly, gazing at him from under your eyelashes. You felt a rush of excitement and your legs started to tremble.

He raised one eyebrow and a sexy, playful grin formed on his lips. "I'm a hybrid, love, far superior," he teased, kissing your neck softly, then tracing your jugular with his tongue.

You moaned, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you still as he scraped his fangs over your skin. He slowly pushed himself into you, and you threw your head back, moaning as his thick, hard cock stretched you open.

"Fuck," you moaned, as his lips captured yours. He kissed you with such ferocity, sucking on your bottom lip, it was almost violent, and you loved it. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging on it, feeling him groan into the kiss, causing his thrusts to speed up and intensify. You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders, urging him on. You bit your lip to suppress your moan, knowing someone could be in the compound.

"Don't be shy, sweetheart," he teased, his pretty accent giving you goosebumps as he continued thrusting into you, "It's just us. I want to hear you."

You flushed and tried to stay quiet, but the things he was doing to you had you moaning, crying out, and begging for more. You buried your face in his neck, biting down on his shoulder, the pleasure overwhelming you.

"Fuck, yes, bite me, love," he encouraged, his hips snapping into yours.

You obeyed, biting down harder, hoping to leave a mark. You gasped, your jaw going slack as his fucked you senseless against the wall. Your head was swimming, and all you could focus on was the feel of his cock buried inside you, and the iron grip he had on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin so hard you knew they would leave bruises.

He pounded into you, his lips finding yours, swallowing your moans. He broke the kiss, his voice hoarse, "So pretty and all mine," he murmured, his eyes meeting yours, full of adoration.

"Nik," you breathed, his name sounding like a prayer on your lips.

He moved a hand up, wrapping it around your throat, gently squeezing, restricting your breathing. You moaned, a shot of adrenaline mixed with pleasure coursing through you. He increased his pace, and you knew he was close, his cock swelling, his pace becoming erratic.

"Are you gonna come for me, love?" he whispered, fucking you harder.

You couldn't answer, his grip on your throat was too tight, but he growled, sensing your closeness. He ground his pelvis into your clit, sending you over the edge. Your whole body was trembling as you came, pulsating around him, he growled, sinking his fangs into your neck, the sharp pain only adding to the intensity of the orgasm.

You felt the blood rush out of your neck, the orgasm ripping through you in waves, his hips never slowed, still fucking you hard, his cock throbbing as he continued to drink your blood. You cried out as his thrusts became frantic, his pace inhumanly fast and you knew he was about to come. As your orgasm started to ebb, you felt his cock pulse, and his release spilled inside of you.

He retracted his fangs, pressing his lips to the wounds and began to place soft kisses along your neck, his hips jerking as he rode out the last of his climax. You clung to him, your whole body throbbing as your orgasm finally began to subside, and you felt weak, your strength gone. He groaned, pressing his forehead to yours, panting heavily.

"Bloody hell," he said between breaths, giving you a wild smile as he kissed you. His hand moved to the side of your face, his thumb caressing your cheek. He carried you to the bed, laying you down gently. You sighed, closing your eyes, feeling his weight on top of you.

"That was incredible, love," he whispered, placing kisses on your jawline. You lay there, panting, enjoying the post-orgasmic glow, letting his lips wander.

"Enjoy yourself?" he teased, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms, your head resting on his chest.

"Very much," you replied, turning your head to kiss him.

"Good, because we're not finished yet."

You giggled. "We aren't?"

"Not even close, love."

{Part Two -Kol} ♡ {Part Three - Marcel} ♡ {Part Four - Elijah}

Authors Note: I find calling him Nik really hot... anyone else?

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin: Chapter 9

Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: Having recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they are until it's too late.

This Chapter: Klaus pleads his case as you wrestle with guilt, while Elijah attempts to ease your mind the old fashioned way.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only, Love Triangle, Infidelity, Klaus Pinning You Against the Wall, Shoving, Neck Kissing, Licking, Elijah Undressing You, Kissing, Massage, Nipple Play, Vaginal Fingering, Lying, Manipulation, Compulsion, Blood, Sweat, Tears, ANGST

Word Count: 3.2k+

Read the rest of the story HERE

His brother? Elijah? Did you really just hear him correctly? No. No, that can’t possibly be true. They look nothing alike! And can vampires even BE brothers, especially if Klaus is over a thousand years old, like he said? Maybe it’s just some weird figure of speech and not an actual term. Or maybe it’s just part of the vampire lore that only the elder insiders know about? You can’t…no… this can’t be happening! Either way, you can’t deny that you’re in deep trouble here. It’s only a matter of time before you get found out, and you can’t imagine that either of them will take it very well.

Time to put that guard up.

“Well, half brother, if you want to get into the specifics, but that’s a story for another time, love.” Klaus’ blonde lashes flutter across your cheek as he kisses the skin of your chin and jawline while you tremble with guilt. He doesn’t seem to be worried about the idea of Elijah right now, so you welcome his continued seduction with a sigh of relief as it helps throw him off the scent. You force a smile as he slowly releases the vice-like grip he has on your wrists only to ghost his hands down your forearms, forcing you to shiver.

“Oh, really?” you whisper as your bloodstream plays host to an increased supply of oxytocin, chemically connecting your body to his no matter how badly your brain wants them to separate. “So do you have, like a whole family of vampire siblings living under one roof?” You jest, only to be met by his thumbs playfully digging into your axilla before squeezing their way down your sides.

“Maybe I do, but it looks like we both have surprise siblings that neither of us knew about until today. It really begs the question though, are there any other secrets that you’re hiding from me, hmm? A husband, a wife, a child?” His mouth moves down to your neck as you shake your head in response, licking the path of your pulse as it continues to throb against his tongue.

“Klaus,” you groan, trying to focus solely on the mental image of your brother instead of Elijah rocking his hips into you, those gorgeously lust-blown eyes of his nearly blacking out completely. That’s something you could never forget, but you shove it into the back of your mind for the time being, anyways. “Klaus, we can’t do this, I’m at work!”

“Oh don’t worry, love. I’ve compelled everyone on this floor to forget that I came here tonight, to forget that you ever left your post.” He pulls back just enough to look you in the eye with a reassuring wink.

“Compelled?” You push your palm against his chest to put some distance between you, secretly hating yourself for cutting off that rush of hormones that set your skin on fire. “What do you mean, compelled?” You need more of an explanation than just the context clues he’s barely giving you.

“Well, if you must know, it’s one of the many gifts that comes with immortality; a sure fire way to get others to do what we want, to cover our tracks.” His hands rest gently against your hips, his thumbs rubbing the skin beneath your scrubs as he explains himself.

“Like mind control?” You had dated some seriously manipulative men in your day, but this really takes the cake. If he can really do that, can they all do it? Can Elijah?

“Think of it more as… the power of persuasion. I could compel your boss to give you a raise right now, Marjorie to give back your favorite pen that she stole, or your patients to stay in bed. But instead I chose to compel every last one of my men to protect you, to keep you safe from any harm that may come your way. You won’t have to worry about any more attacks in the quarter, love, you or your brother.”

Damn. Well, that’s a relief, you guess.

“Wait, have you ever compelled me before?” Your logic finally kicks back in, trying it’s best not to get led astray by his silver tongue and good looks, which isn’t as easy as it sounds.

He pauses and takes a breath, smirking while he chooses his next words very carefully. “The thing I love most about you is that I’ve never felt the need to compel you before.” He weaves his web of words with such eloquent precision, it’s almost impossible to tell if there’s any bit of truth in them. “I’ve compelled people in the past to lie, cheat and steal for me, even to kill for me if the occasion calls for it, but in the end it’s just not as fun as earning their loyalty the old fashioned way.

“Compelling you to act any differently, to be anybody else would just be too boring, and you’re anything but boring, love. You find death just as beautiful and vibrant as I do. It’s apparent in your art and your choice to work here as your patients tiptoe that flimsy tightrope between life and death. You get off on the power you hold over it, the power you have to stop it, to prolong it. In the end, you and I aren’t that different after all.” He strokes your hair affectionately, looking longingly into your eyes as he waits for you to respond.

“You think so?” You reply dumbly as if you’re blown away by his words, trying to really sell the idea of being on board with his ethics of compelling people against their will.

“I left you a note at the nurse’s station next to a cup of chicory coffee from your favorite cafe. Meet me at that address tomorrow night, then we can really begin to flesh out our epic masterpiece… but only if you want to.”

————————

Klaus’ words haunt you well into your much needed shower after work as you try to wash his scent out of your hair and off of your skin. You scrub the wash cloth over your body more times than you care to admit, letting the soap lather up to a ridiculous level before rinsing off in the steaming stream of water. Once you finally reach the level of cleanliness that you desire, you step out of the shower and dry your hair, switching the towel around before wrapping it around your body.

You rotate your scrubs over from the washer to the dryer, making sure to eradicate any of Klaus’ scent from them as well, hoping that Elijah won’t catch on to your surprise visitor at work. You’re sure that he would take the news better than Klaus would, but there’s no telling how merciful a ruthless vampire like him could react when he’s betrayed, no matter how refined he seems so far.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Elijah’s voice is just above a whisper as he enters your apartment through the balcony, your purple curtains surrounding him in the breeze of dawn, staging him to look like your beloved phantom. His suit is littered with streaks of crimson, the truth about his nature staring you right in the face as he slowly takes a step toward you with an outstretched hand.

Perfect timing, as always.

“I just had a really rough day at work.” You mutter, letting your hand instinctively slip inside his fingers as he draws you near. You aren’t necessarily lying to him, but you can’t bear to tell him the whole truth yet either. “That’s all.”

Had he been with Klaus earlier tonight? Had they killed someone together? Compelled them to stay calm, not to scream or run away before they drank their blood until there was nothing left? Had they done it so many times in their endless lives together that they don’t even register it as something bad anymore? How could someone so calm and considerate like Elijah be related to someone so fiercely aggressive as Klaus? Even worse, how could someone like you who claims to be such a good person be attracted to both of them despite it all?

The reality of your situation slowly begins to set in now that you’re free of Klaus’ pheromones, the brutal truth of what you have to do now more obvious than ever. You have to leave. It’s the only logical course of action. If you stay and choose Klaus, you’ll have to deal with seeing Elijah every day, and you’ll be heartbroken as you keep that secret between you… if he’s even kind enough to keep it. If you stay and choose Elijah, you can only imagine what maniacally violent punishment Klaus might dole out to you in retaliation… and to his brother. And if you stay and choose neither of them, well… the odds just aren’t really in your favor, are they?

Damn your libido!

“Are you alright?” Elijah asks softly, placing a single chaste kiss on the nape of your neck as his other hand holds onto your waist, calming your nerves somehow. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I umm…” You try to disguise the weight of your dilemma as best you can, all while telling him something along the lines of the truth. “This patient of mine, she doesn’t know how much time she has left. She thought it was just a simple stomach ache, maybe a food allergy or a survivable chronic illness like Crohn’s, but now they’re testing her for something more serious, for something fatal.”

“I’m so sorry.” His free hand undoes the loose knot of your towel, setting your naked body free as he sends the terry cloth falling silently to the floor. “She must be terrified.”

“She is,” you admit, relishing in the comfort of his touch as he navigates his palms over your breasts and belly as if they’re precious jewels to be treasured. “But the choices she’s made up until now can’t be taken back, can’t be erased no matter how hard she wishes they could be.”

Elijah’s lips part as he takes you in, his features softening before shrugging out of his jacket and tie. “Even those of us who live forever wish we could turn back time, that we could take back certain decisions.” He sets his clothes on the back of a chair and unbuttons his collar. “Your job has to be filled with people who are shrouded in regret.”

“It is.” You help him unbutton the rest of his shirt, recognizing that this may be the very last time he holds you in his arms before the truth comes out, before it’s all over. That bittersweet realization fills your eyes with tears that aren’t quite heavy enough to fall onto your cheeks as you look down at his navel before pulling his perfectly pressed shirt off his torso.

Good God, you’re going to miss this. You’re going to miss him.

Elijah takes your hand as his shirt falls to the floor next to your towel and guides you over to the couch, setting you in between his legs with his chest against your back. “And what are your patient’s options? What can she do?” He kisses his questions between your shoulder blades as his fingers massage your aching muscles, releasing the tension in your body the way that only he can. You swear that one of his immortal gifts is the strength in his magical fingers, and you can already imagine how many tears you’ll cry the next few nights in your bed without them. But for now, you’ve got to put on a brave face.

“She could make a drastic life change that might give her a sliver of a chance at survival.” You blink your tears into your lashes before closing your eyes as he continues to knead his thumbs against your skin, replacing your sorrow with a deep somatic pleasure. “But she wonders if it’s too late, if she’s in too deep to even make any kind of a difference.”

“That sounds very bleak, little Lotte.” He rubs his hands over your shoulders and up the back of your neck, collecting your hair at the top of your head to better massage your scalp as you languidly drop your chin to your chest. He grins as your rapid breathing eventually slows to a cool, measured rhythm with each pass of his fingers, the pressure slowly increasing before his hands finally venture down toward the peaks and valleys of your chest.

“I know, I feel terrible.” You mumble as he pinches your nipples, twisting them hard enough for your muscles to tighten back up, ruining all the work that he’d just done to get you relaxed. You lean back against him with a needy moan, your head resting on his shoulder as you feel his heart beating faster, his own arousal grows against the expensive fabric of his pants.

“Why don’t you let me take your mind off of it for a while?” His hand travels down your stomach as he whispers into your ear, sending tingling waves of warmth up your spine as it wastes no time in settling in between your thighs. He kisses your lips with a smile as he feels your body writhe against his, urging him to continue as his fingers take the hint and eagerly glide in between your dripping wet folds, building those waves even taller than before.

“Mmm hmm,” you moan your stuttered approval, suspending your fear for one more night as you practically fall limp in his arms. “I think I’ll let you do that.”

————————

You wake the next morning without him next to you, without his arms to wrap around you with a sleepy groan that you’ve almost gotten used to, without his chin nuzzling into the nape of your neck, pleading for five more minutes in bed with you. Those five minutes almost always turned into ten more of him thrusting inside you, working each and every muscle awake the old fashioned way as sweat dripped down his chest and melted between your thighs and his hips. But not today.

Today starts with you reluctantly opening your eyes, reaching over to the empty spot on your bed that he’d recently filled as his smoky scent lingers on your sheets and pillowcase. You inhale his aroma one last time before forcing yourself upright, greeted at least by a fresh pot of coffee in the kitchen and a note next to it saying that he has business to tend to today. You pick it up and sigh with a sad smile, wishing you were awake enough to watch him walk out your door one last time, but decide that it’s all for the best, and get dressed for the day with a heavy heart.

After waiting a few painstaking hours in a cafe down the street for your phone to finally get fixed, you decide to drop by your brother’s place to see how he’s doing, holding your breath in anticipation as you wait for him to open the door after you knock three times.

“Hey loser, what’s up?” Austin seems rather surprised to see you, his expression more tired and worn than usual.

“Oh, thank God!” You wrap your arms around your brother as if your memory of being concerned for his life suddenly returns just by seeing his face. That’s funny, you don’t remember being worried about what happened to him after the night of the attack, but that doesn’t really make any sense, now does it? “I’m so glad you’re okay! I didn’t know what happened to you after…”

“Of course I’m okay, and what are you talking about?” He looks you up and down like you’ve lost your mind, like you have lobsters crawling out of your ears. “And you usually call first before you come over, are you sure everything’s alright?”

“No!” You pause, studying his features to see if he’s attempting to play some kind of prank on you or something. How could he not remember? “My phone got shattered the other night, remember? I just got it fixed.” You barge into his apartment like you own the place, shocked that he even has to ask you about it. Was he feeling alright? Were you?

He continues to stare at you as you wander aimlessly around his living area, completely bewildered.

“You mean to tell me that yours is fine? That your phone survived the attack without even a crack, a dent, nothing?! They roughed both of us up pretty bad that night, I can’t believe you don’t even have a scratch on you.”

“Doing what? And you should talk, you don’t have any marks on you, either, sis.” He seems genuinely confused as he hurriedly shuts the door behind you and locks it behind you. “Look, is everything alright? Did you hit your head or something? Are you talking about the night that we had dinner together? When you ran into your buddy Elijah and I had to walk the rest of the way home by myself?”

“Yes!” You nod, folding your arms across your chest. Now you’re getting somewhere.

He rolls his eyes. “You were supposed to be my designated walker that night, by the way.” He walks over to the couch and plops down with a loud, disappointed sigh, a sound you know all too well. “Thanks for nothing, I guess. I hope you at least got laid, or some free drinks. That guy reeks of money.”

Holy shit, Elijah compelled him to forget everything about the attack that night. It really does work. Fuck, you’re in trouble!

You sit down on the couch next to your brother, looking him deep in the eye. “You really don’t remember anything else about that night, do you?”

“No.” He sits up straight and looks at you solemnly, placing a steady hand on your shoulder. “Sis, what the fuck is going on? You’re scaring me.”

You consider telling him the truth about everything you’ve been through these past few weeks, about Elijah and Klaus, about vampires and witches, but all the sudden you see the benefit of compulsion. You see that wiping someone’s memory of an event or a person isn’t always necessarily a bad thing. It can keep your brother safe and in the dark while the creatures of the night lurk around the corners of the city feasting on the innocent while he remains none the wiser. Maybe it’s better if you leave him like this, to continue on believing only in the things that he can explain with laws and logic.

“Maybe it was just a bad dream.” You whisper softly, looking down at your feet before glancing back up at him. “Sometimes they just seem so real, you know?” You bite your lower lip as a mixture of guilt and futility washes over you, almost triggering those tears to come back with a vengeance. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you like that.” You take a deep breath and ruffle his hair before standing up from the couch, realizing that you’re on your own with this from here on out. It’s probably better to keep him out of the mess you’ve created for yourself. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

“Alright, but… don’t be a stranger, okay? And if you need anything, anything real, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“I promise.” You hug him before seeing yourself out, walking down the street toward the bus station before everything goes black.

--------------

Tags: @hcqwxrtss123 @hayleym1234 @derangedangel @spnaquakindgdom @natalie668 @arbesa-mind

[0xstarzx0]

DARK RED

Rafe Cameron S3x Reader

CLOSE COMMAND

[English is not my native language❗️❗️]

SYNOPSIS: Rafe found you and he’s planning on keeping it with him forever.

TW: toxic behavior, manipulation, control manipulation, threats, violence mentions, victim’s reprimand. !The reader is considered a weak-minded person, which explains her behavior towards Rafe! Mention of abortion. Insult

______________________________________________- [PT2]

6YEARS LATERS 

You watched your sons play happily in the streets of Chicago. You no longer lived as a kook, but you were happy with your children.

Music echoed through the streets as the boys were with their friends while you sunbathed peacefully.

"Mom, look what I can do!" said Elijah, making animal shadows with his hands.

You laughed and applauded, Dean coming to sit next to you.

Dean and Elijah are twin brothers.

Dean physically resembles you a lot. His eyes are just a little lighter than yours and his hair is not as wavy as yours.

Elijah strongly resembles Rafe, with the same hair, eye color, complexion, smile, EVERYTHING.

But in terms of character, they are completely different. Elijah inherited your character, while Dean has Rafe's character.

They are too young for you to say which one reminds you more of Rafe, but either way, you do your best to make sure they don’t become like him.

"When is Harper coming?" asks Dean with hint of frustration in his sad expression.

"She's coming at six-" Dean cuts you off. "How late is she staying with us?" You shrug your shoulders.

Tonight, you're working as a waitress for a high-end event in the north side of Chicago. You don't know what time you'll be home as these events can go on sometimes until three in the morning.

"I don't know Dean, but I'll make sure to come home as soon as possible," you say, gently stroking his hair.

"You always say that, but you come back super late!" The little blond puts his head against your shoulder.

It pains you to hear that because it’s true; sometimes in order to make sure you can make ends meet, you find yourself working overtime.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," Dean hugs you with his little arms. "I love you, mom." You stroke his back. "I love you too, baby."

✯

The event had been going on for over an hour now, and the floors in the luxurious hotel where you were at began to fill up.

You stood up straight and tried to be as pleasant as possible. The atmosphere is enjoyable for the guests.

Each of them flaunts their wealth or talks about business. You recall the parties of this kind you used to attend with your family.

None of them were missed by you, you greet a woman as she starts talking to you.

She's quite attractive, with her medium-length black hair and her brown almond-shaped eyes. She acts as if you were the best friends in the world.

However, she doesn't do anything except talk about her life, there’s no coherence in what she’s saying, but you say nothing.

You hope to get at least a tip of $150 at this point.

She looks away from your eyes for a moment to look over your shoulder and smile. She waves her hand, probably attracting someone.

You begin to turn around to leave when you freeze. Bad memories come back one by one to the surface. Your heart beats so loudly in your ears that you can no longer hear.

You apologize and head to the bar, setting down your tray and run to the bathrooms. Rafe was there, he was right in front of you.

He still looks as charismatic and threatening as before. You walk to the sink and splash some water on your face.

And if he had recognized me? Will he make me pay? Will he be angry that I've deprived him of his children for so long? No, impossible that he’s recognized me.

You lift your head and find yourself face to face with him in the mirror. A satisfied smile on his face. You swallow hard and look at him.

His blue eyes are still as beautiful as ever, his shaved hair gives him a charm.

"It's been a long time." He says, locking the door. He advances, and you back away.

He straightens his tie and looks at himself in the mirror. "How's my child?"

You freeze in fear, the stress is at its peak. "I had an abortion." You gasp for air. He chuckles and looks at you. "You ran away just to have an abortion?"

You look at him angrily. "What do you want Rafe?" You tremble and he finally looks at you. "I know my children are somewhere in the streets of Chicago. Judging by your appearance, they must be in the South Side."

"Fuck off, Rafe!" You yell at him in anger. Rafe comes closer and looks at you with anger. "There are people who have disappeared for less than that Y/N. I suggest you lower your damn tone."

Rafe leans forward and tilts his head slightly. "I missed you." He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. You shudder at his touch.

"You broke my heart by leaving. How could you do this to me after everything I did for you." He grabs your chin and forces you to look at him.

There was a time when you would have apologized on your knees, but not anymore. "You were violentwith me."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "That happens in every relationship, it’s nothing serious." You look at him, shocked.

"How did you call them?" He asks, folding his arms across his chest. You furrow your brows. "What?..." he massages his temples. "The twins, what have you named them?" You tremble, how does he know?

"I don’t know what you mean." Rafe sighs loudly. "Do you really think I’m here by accident?" You frown, he takes out his phone and unlocks it.

He puts it on the sink, for the past five months he'd known where you live, your job, your friends, and most importantly, where his children were.

"I don’t blame you for leaving, Y/N, I’ve spent every day for the past six years thinking about you and the kids." He grabs your chin and forces you to look him in the eyes.

"I’m going to change, I promise, just give me one more chance to show you how I can be a good father for our kids." He caresses your cheek. "For our family."

You would like to scream at him, tell him to leave, but Rafe isn’t stupid. He knows that you won’t because you feel too guilty that the twins don’t have a father.

"Alright..." You say, looking into his eyes. "One and last chance." Rafe smiles and kisses your forehead. "Promise."

Rafe hugs you tightly and gently runs his fingers through your hair.

Rafe knew you were going to say yes, he was sure of it, and anyway, if you had refused, he would have made sure you wouldn’t be allowed near the children anymore.

Having money works that way.

Rafe knows it will take some time for you to no longer be afraid of him, but he will wait because that is what soulmates do. 

They always forgive their other half.

______________________________________________

Hello everyone!

And yes, after several months without news about this fan fiction, I finally write the end!

I'm sorry if the end hasn't pleased you, I don't like it too much either but I tried to do what I wanted the most. If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask them to me in private or in request, I'll answer with pleasure <3

taglist 🏷️ :

@rafemotherfuckingcameron @macchili18 @devotedlyelectronicartisan @julesandro

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[da-rulah]

I hope you are having a wonderful day.

I humbly request some jealous cardi spice ♡

Thank you lovely! My day is going well, I've done nothing today other than write this filth.

So, listen... An idea came to me with this one... and I ran with it. I bloody love jealous tropes, as you may know if you've read Day 5 of Rituale Septem... But this one gets a little... sacrilegious.

Darling, this became feral. And I'm not sorry.

18+ MDNI! Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader.

TW/ Jealous themes (ofc), ex-boyfriend returns, mentions of past life in a christian church, violence, blood, fingering, rough sex, references to Satan and the Devil, possessiveness, breeding kink, ownership kink, creampie.

"Are. You. Mine?" artwork created by the incredibly talented @honimello!

Thank you so much, it's incredible and exactly how I pictured Copia's face in that scene...

If any artists are ever inspired by anything I write, please please do share it with me - I'd love to see what your mind's eye sees when reading my work. And this fandom is full of incredible talent. I love it here.

Frantic knocking on the door to Papa's quarters jolted you from the trance your book in hand had you in. Copia had been drifting off, his gloved fingers mindlessly playing with your hair as you read in his lap but he too startled to sit upright.

In a fumble of clumsy limbs, the two of you stood, Papa heading straight for the door to find Rain out of breath and panicked.

"Rain? What's the matter, mio amico?" Papa asked, waiting patiently for him to get his breath back. Clearly he had run as fast as he could to find Papa.

"Th-there's... a man... he's shouting about Sister ______ on the steps of the Ministry, Papa!" he explained frantically, waving his arm in the direction of the front doors.

Your eyes widened, Papa's head flinging around to look back at you. You had a sinking feeling in your gut. You know who it was... He'd found you.

"I-I'll go... I'll take care of it," you said, stepping around Copia and walking a little ways out into the hall when he grabbed your elbow, stopping you.

"What's going on?" he asked, "This sounds dangerous, why don't you let me..."

"He's not dangerous. He's just an idiot. I'll deal with it," you told him firmly. "Stay."

Copia let go of your arm and you continued to walk down the hall. He nodded in your direction at Rain, telling him to follow you and make sure you were in fact safe. Rain nodded and trotted behind you - you didn't mind him being your backup, but it was Copia you wanted to keep away from the situation.

As you got closer to the doors, you could hear the ramblings of the idiot on the Ministry steps, shouting at the top of his lungs.

"_________! Hey, I know you're in there! I know what they've done... They've stolen you away, told you lies and made you fall in love with the devil!"

You groaned to yourself, turning to Rain with an eye roll.

"Ex-boyfriends, eh?" you scoffed, before wrenching the door open and standing on the top step.

"Elijah, you sound like an idiot," you said, monotonous and feigning boredom.

"Oh, see? I knew you were here! Cavorting with heathens and the Devil! I need to take you home, _______. To bring you back to God!"

You knew your past in a Christian community would come back to bite you on the ass someday, but you'd hoped to be a little more prepared for it.

But no, here was your ex-boyfriend, now more religious than you'd ever known him when you were together, trying to... win you back? That was laughable.

"God only knows what you do within those walls... Filthy fornication, sacrifices to Satan..."

"That's rich, Elijah. I seem to remember you had no problem with fornication when we were together. But hey, one rule for you, another for the rest isn't it?" you laughed. Elijah saw read, stomping up the steps and standing on the one beneath you.

"I have seen the error of my ways, and I'm repenting every day for them, whore! You must do the same, come with me. Now!" he grabbed your arm, attempting to drag you down the steps and go back to the life you'd left behind many moons ago.

No way in hell were you going back there again.

You began kicking and yelling at him, flailing your arms as you panicked - he was strong, but Rain was behind you. No doubt he'd be jolted into action as he saw you being dragged away by this lunatic.

"I think you'd better let her go," a thickly-accented voice behind you stopped Elijah in his tracks, his head snapping around to look behind where you both were halfway down the steps.

Papa stood at the top, his hands behind his back and surrounded by three of his beefiest Ghouls - and Sodo. But Sodo was growling like the feral little raccoon he was.

"Or what, old man? You gonna take her from me?" Elijah challenged, pulling you against him with you back against his chest. He was scared, using you as a human shield. Pathetic. "She doesn't belong here, in this... this... vile place."

Copia laughed, stepping down the steps and holding a hand out to his side to keep his Ghouls at bay. He pried Elijah's hands off you, taking your hands in his and checking you were okay.

"Go wait up there with Rain, amore mio," he told you, his voice soft and his palm caressing your cheek to calm you. You nodded under his touch and headed back up to the top of the stairs, the Ghouls parting to let you stand behind them for safety. Rain came to your side, holding your hand.

Copia squared up to Elijah then, in a way you'd never seen him square up to anybody. He scared you, with how silent and yet, clearly livid he was.

"You're not taking her anywhere, stronzo." His voice was dark and commanding.

"Oh, I get it now..." Elijah began to laugh, cackling to himself as he doubled over at something so hilariously amusing to only him. "Are you... are you fucking him?" he asked you, pointing at Copia and dismissing him. "This weird, old guy? Really?"

You wanted to defend Copia, but the way he looked over his shoulder at you had you staying put and squeezing on Rain's hand.

"She's found her place here, able to live a life where she's not judged and vilified for living her fucking life. You people are all the same.. damning souls to Hell for the things you wish you allowed yourself to do. But oh no, they're sins, eh? You couldn't possibly..." Copia scoffed.

"I have sinned in the past, but I repented. I sinned plenty," Elijah's voice dropped so only Papa could hear, "I sinned with her..."

Copia's hands balled into fists at his side. Jealousy, no matter how warranted, flooded his veins like poison.

"I remember, too... I know what she likes, what she's into. Have you found that spot on her collarbone yet? She likes that..." Elijah was smirking, and you didn't like the look on his face as he whispered in Copia's ear. Copia remained still, fists clenched and staring straight ahead.

"I was her first, you know... Gave her her first orgasm, made her cum over and over... Can you do that, old man? One night with me again, and she'd forget your name if it was tattooed on her arm. She'll always be mine..."

A green mist descended in Copia's mind, and he couldn't help himself. He swung for Elijah, his fist connecting with his cheek with a sickening crack.

The Ghouls sprang into action when Elijah pounced on Copia, shoving him to the floor and trying to get a few punches in himself, but Copia was too strong for him. A man you thought would never hurt a fly, wouldn't be able to hold his own in a fight on account of his own awkwardness and his tender nature and yet... you were seeing a whole new, angry side to him. And it made your chest tighten, knowing he was fighting for you...

The Ghouls sprang into action, quickly restraining Elijah and dragging him to the parking lot around the side of the front building to the Ministry. You saw them throw him into the back of a van, two of them and Sodo joining him in the back whilst the remaining Ghoul got in the driver's seat.

You ran to Copia's side where he stood up, dusting himself off.

"Copia! Fucking hell, are you alright?" you asked, your hands pulling his face to look at you but he couldn't look you in the eye. Instead, he gripped your wrists in his and pulled you back up the steps, marching you back to his quarter's and ignoring Rain's protests he should go to the infirmary for the blood dripping from his forehead and lip.

You tried to slow him down, to tell him to stop and breathe but he ignored everything you said to him until he had you back in his living room, slamming the door behind him. He let you go, practically throwing you into the middle of the room as he stalked towards you with dark, hungry eyes.

'C-Copia... what did he say to you?" you asked him, terrified he was now angry at you for some lies Elijah may have told.

"You're mine, sí?" he asked, his voice deep and forced through grit teeth.

"W-what?" you asked; how could he ask that of you. He knew you were, body and soul.

"Are. You. Mine?" he asked, slowly. You took a step back.

"Of course I am!" you yelled, "Copia your head, your lip... Let me clean you up, okay? Just... Just take a breath, calm down," you told him, taking another step back as he took one towards you.

He ignored you, backing you up until your legs hit the couch behind you. He was in your space now, glowering down at you. The look in his eyes both terrified and excited you. With such a dark expression, the blood from his lip and forehead only served to add a menacing and yet, enticing air of danger to your predicament.

"Calm down? I am calm, amore mio. Why wouldn't I be calm, eh?" Sarcasm dripped from every word.

"Copia, please..." you lift your hand to caress his cheek, trying to check the damage to his lip and head but he catches your wrist in a tight grip, earning a gasp from you.

"I am a better man than him, sí?" he asked. You creased your brow in confusion for a minute, before remembering to answer him. Every millisecond of silence his grip on your wrist tightened.

"Y-yes, of course you are. Copia, you're scaring me..." Only half true, of course. He was absolutely a better man than Elijah ever was, and you were only... slightly scared in that moment.

"I love you more than he ever could, sí?" he asked.

"Y-you do, yes. And I love you, so much..." you told him, trying desperately to get him to just calm down, to snap out of whatever hex he was under.

"And..." he steps forward again, his foot between both yours as he presses his thigh between your legs. You can feel his hip against you, his groin pressing into your own hip bone. Was he... hard? "I fuck you better than he ever could, sí?"

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, and you stuttered an incoherent response. You hate to admit it but his anger was having an effect on you; his jealousy. Whatever Elijah had said to him, it must have riled him up enough to make him jealous in some way. And honestly, the thought of Copia being jealous should have had you angry at him, because how could he be jealous of that asshole?

But instead, it lit a furnace inside you. This incredibly powerful, wonderful man, who would rearrange the nine circles of Hell for you if only you asked, was jealous for you.

"Answer me," he growled, and you stammered again, unable to form a two words to string together. He took your silence as a no; severely misinterpreting the situation.

"Perhaps you need reminding, amore mio?" Copia grabbed your other arm and twisted you to the side, pushing you down to the couch with your back shoved into the corner. He knelt between your spread thighs, hands on the arm and backs of the couch and hovering above you.

"Ti scoperò finché non dimenticherai che quel tuo dio infernale ha mai fatto parte della tua vita, (I'll fuck you until you forget that that infernal God of yours was ever a part of your life)," he growled, his jealousy and anger at your past life bubbling away inside him. You didn't know enough Italian to know what he'd sad, but you recognised enough to know he was growling about God in your life? Whatever it was, it sent a flood of arousal to your core.

Before you knew it, his lips were pushed bruisingly hard against your own. You could taste the metallic pang of blood on your lips, but you had no room to care at that point. You let him consume you, his tongue working against your own with no contest as your gripped onto the lapels of his tattered jacket.

Copia's hands came to grip onto your habit either side of the buttons, and with one sharp tug he ripped it open, the buttons pinging off in different directions. he pulled again, lower, exposing your body to him where you lay.

You felt so desperate already, needy beneath him as you scrambled to push his jacket off him, then pulling on the knot of his blue neck tie and lifting that over his head with a brief separation of his punishing kiss.

Like he had to you, you pulled on either side of his shirt to try and rip it open, but you simply weren't strong enough. Copia chuckled, sitting up between your legs.

"My poor toppolina, let me help, hm?" he mocked, before ripping into his own shirt in one fell swoop. You ran your hands over his chest, marvelling at the structure of a well exercised man, his chest covered in an expanse of salt and pepper speckled chest hair. You traced the '666' over his heart, earning you a low growl from him.

"His mark, toppolina... You pledged yourself to Him now, sí? And to me..." You had, yes. Completely.

Before you could reply his lips were on yours again, licking and sucking at your bottom lip, biting down and earning a whimper from you. You bucked your hips against his thigh, already beginning to soak through the panties on display to him.

He noticed the damp patch, and his head twitched with a smirk. Without hesitation he was ripping them down your thighs and pulling them off your legs, exposing your glistening folds to him.

He swirled his gloved fingers through the mess a few times, before immediately sliding his ring and middle finger inside you. You took him with pleasure, back arching from the couch and a moan ripping from your throat.

"Tell me, amore mio, who makes you see stars every time he touches you, eh?" he taunted, hovering above you as you writhed, his fingers pumping and curling inside you bringing you so much bliss already.

"Y-you do, Copia... Fuck," you gasped when his thumb came to draw circles over your clit. "Don't stop, please..." you begged.

He had no intention of stopping, dragging you further and further towards a climax until finally, the gasp rising in your chest got stuck, and your orgasm burst inside you.

"C-Copia!" you stuttered a scream, hands flying to grip onto his wrist while his hand continued it's onslaught on your core until he was satisfied he'd got every ounce of pleasure from your orgasm as possible.

Your grip on him loosened as you came back down, and he took this as his chance to manhandle you, flipping you over onto your knees and bent over the corner of the couch lazily. When you gazed dreamily behind you, still hazy from your orgasm, you saw him unlacing the front of his tattered pants, pushing them down just enough to release his cock. He leant forward, gripping onto your hip with one hand and lining his length up with your folds with the other. He dragged the tip of his cock - an angry shade of red and leaking precum - through your juices.

"You're mine, amore mio," he growled through grit teeth, his bare chest pressed against the habit he'd bunched up around your hips, "I claim you as such."

In one swift motion, he slid home, filling you to the brim as his hips came into contact with your ass. He grunted when he bottomed out, the warmth of your inner walls sending a pleasurable shiver through his body.

Before long his hips were smacking into your ass over and over, his cock filling you deliciously while he angled himself to hit your g-spot over and over again. The slew of nonsense tumbling from your lips had him chuckling to himself between deep breaths as he exerted himself.

"So good you can't even talk, amore mio? Sí, no one can fuck you like I can, eh?" he taunted. "Say it. Say 'no one can fuck me like you can, Papa'!" he ordered.

"No one... can... fuck me... like you... Papa!" you cried, his titled coming out as a scream at a particularly hard thrust.

"Mine... you're all mine," he claimed, "Gonna fill you up, amore mio... Give you my seed to carry, make sure everyone sees you and knows you're claimed."

If his thrusts weren't already enough, his words were turning you on above and beyond anything he'd ever said to you before. Whilst you were your own person, and proudly so, you couldn't help the way hearing how possessive he was in this moment made you clench on his length.

"G-gonna... cum... Papa!" you yelled again, dangling on the edge, just a little too far from where you needed to be. He sensed you needed a nudge, his hand snaking around between the both of you and his fingertips rubbing over your sensitive clit once again.

"You'd like that hm? If Papa fucked you so hard, filled you so much with his seed everyone could see it? Everyone would know... They'd know I'd bred you so good, amore mio..." He was spewing utter filth, and it was having the desired effect on you...

"Papa..." you cried.

"Papa's here, amore... Papa's fucking you so good, eh? Fucking the damn antichrist into you!" he growled.

You lost control then, your cunt spasmed around him as you violently came around his length. He wrapped his arms around your chest, heaving you back against him with a hand gripping your chin. His hips continued to rut into you, fucking you through your orgasm as you gasped and reached for something, anything...

"That's it, eh? So good for me, cumming on Papa's cock like that... Just for me, hm?"

All you could do was whimper weakly as your body spasmed in his grasp. He held you so tightly against him, owning you, fucking into you over and over as he whispered filth into your ear you could barely pay attention to in your haze.

Before long, he was moaning wantonly in your ear and stuttering in his pace, a sure fire sign he was about to finish. With a little more clarity now, you figured you'd help him along.

"I-I'm yours, Papa..." you told him, "Devoted to you... Cum inside me, Papa. M-mark me... as yours..."

A fierce growl erupted from his chest, his fingers digging into your flesh as he tightened his grip, hips slowing but remaining powerful in a final few thrusts to prolong his climax. He filled you with his spend, so much you could hear the way it leaked from you with every last thrust he gave.

When he stilled, he buried himself deep and stayed put, tumbling onto the couch with you in his arms and holding you still so close to him. You stayed like that for a while, content being full of him and wrapped up in him all at the same time. Both of you needed a moment, just to catch your breath and come down from the immense high you'd experienced together.

After a while, Copia began to press kisses to your neck, little hisses in pain each time he did where his lip was bust and swollen. The blood on his head had dried but now the ache of the wound was starting to set in.

You turned your head back to him, assessing the damage finally and sighing.

"You should let me help with that," you told him softly. He nodded quietly, both of you now moving and separating from each other. Killing two birds with one stone, you decided a shower for the pair of you was the best idea, and so you both removed the remaining clothes you had on and stepped under the hot water together.

In a comfortable silence, you washed the blood and paints from his face, dabbing at the wounds while he took care of washing you too. You felt the stark contrast between the way he'd taken you earlier and the tenderness of this moment; in their own ways both made you feel wanted, loved, needed.

"Copia..." you whispered to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and stepping into him. "You know I'm yours, don't you?"

You hoped he really did, part of you was terrified he doubted your loyalty to him in any way at all.

"Of course, amore mio... And I'm yours," he told you, wrapping his arms around you too and enjoying the warmth of the water cascading over both of you. "Perdonami, I fear I was too rough, eh?" he chuckled insecurely.

"Not at all... I can't pretend it wasn't hot as hell to see a side of you so angry at the idea of me being with anyone else..." you smirked up at him, resting your chin on his chest, just above his '666' mark.

"That stronzo... I can't believe you dated that fucker," he scoffed, pushing your wet hair from your forehead.

"A past life, my love. I was under a spell back then..." you sighed. He hummed in thought.

"And now, you're under mine..." he smirked. You giggled happily as he leaned down, pressing his lips to yours in a far sweeter, tender kiss.

[fandoms--fluff]

Hello, sorry to bother you but do you think you could do one of yn mikelson is a little girl who follows Hailey everywhere since she feels very comfortable with her and when Jackson tries to get close to yn she growls and then bites

Alone

Baby Mikaelson sister reader x Hayley Marshall and Jackson Kenner

Warnings: none that I can think of

A/n: I've made this into a happy ending, I hope you like it! +sorry for not posting as much in the past few weeks or month, I've been busy with work.

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You've clung to Hayley ever since you arrived in New Orleans with your big sister, Rebekah. You met her in the plantation house where she was in the sitting room, on one of the old but fancy armchairs.

Ever since, you've clung to her, feeling safe and calm around her. Don't get it wrong, you love your siblings, but a lot of the time they're either on 'vacations' (how your siblings explain whenever the daggers come into play), or they're so busy that they're barely around. But Hayley has been a constant, always in close proximity and loves to be around you. There are obviously times when she wasn't there, but you were alright because those times also meant that you were with one or more of your siblings. Usually Klaus or Elijah.

Though the werewolf, now turned hybrid, may loath the Mikaelsons most of the time, she hasn't ever thought of you in a negative way.

You're a thousand year plus year old original vampire in a four year old girl's body and mindset, just as you were when Esther turned you guys. It's been hard to get attached to things or people from moving around so much, running from your father and so. You haven't gotten any of the horrendous details of why about most things, but you've been content, knowing your siblings have always been there for you.

And now there's someone else, new, and she sweet, and caring. You got close to her fast. You were there with her throughout most of the day when your siblings weren't around. You found solace in being with her, whether that be cuddling and talking with her, or to the baby you soon learnt was in her tummy. Or playing games and walking outside in the garden.

And when the baby was born, Hope was now out of Hayley's tummy, as you put it to Klaus, which made him chuckle, it was even better. You now had someone to play with, well soon play with since she was still a small baby. But you could lay with her and read her stories from your fairytale books. And you could have warm cuddles with her and Hayley, that was your favorite nighttime activity. It was relaxing and kept any bad dreams away.

Everything was going smooth, for the most part, until he arrived in your guys' lives. Jackson Kenner. The alpha of the Crescent wolf pack from the bayou.

He just appeared one day, and you didn't take a liking to him. But it was fine, he wasn't around much, and you got to be with Hayley and Hope most of the time.

Until he started to appear more. And he would always only want to be with Hayley, Hope, and weirdly enough you, considering he obviously dislikes your siblings. Meaning he was trying to take Hayley away from you. And you didn't like that. But then what you hated even more was when he tried to ever get close to you. Though all your aggression towards him was brushed off by him and Hayley as you 'needing to warm up to him'.

At times like those, you chose to stick close with Hope. Which meant hiding away in the nursery, pulling up a chair, and climbing up on it to be able to see her. Sometimes you'd slowly and carefully climb into the crib, if you deemed it safe. Because you didn't want to end up hurting your new best friend.

But what's worse than him just being around Hayley is you've caught them kissing before. It was horrifying and gross and something you were furious about. So of course they didn't even know you were there in the first place and you didn't know what to do except for your veins and red ees to pop out. But you held yourself back. You didn't want to hurt Hayley, she's special and you love her.

It has been three weeks that you've seen the man here, and he's getting on your nerves. And for being such a small person, that frustration doesn't have a lot of space to go.

So, you've found yourself ranting to Hope, about your dislikes and hatred towards Jackson. Even though the baby has no idea what you were on about and can't talk herself, it makes you feel better.

But that's all crushed the second Hayley and Jackson walk into the nursery together. It's one of those days you decided to carefully climb into the crib and sit with Hope. With how the younger girl reacts, you know she likes it when you do as well.

You guys were having a good time, but now are interrupted. "Hey girls- how'd you get in there without help?" Hayley pauses, there;'s no one in the abattoir other than the four of you. Plus, the only times when you're in the crib with Hope, is when she lifts you up and down into it when you ask. But obviously she's been mistaken. Her eyes don't leave you two until she hears Jackson's voice.

Oh right, he's there too, you scoff, but it turns more into a little scuffle of a cough than anything. Damn your four year old self.

"I think she found a way herself" Jackson gestures his thumb over to the wooden chair you scooted over to the side of the crib. Hayley follows, and looks over to the set up, and sighs, a smile appearing on her face.

"You could've hurt yourself or Hope, Hun" She places her hands on the rails of the crib, leaning against it, and looks down at where you're holding a 16 month old Hope's hand. "No, I be safe. I make sure she not in the way before" You shake your head, explaining your thought process before you climb in.

"Okay, but promise me next time you get me, or Jackson, or another adult, to help you in. No more climbing. Okay?" She tells you. "Okay, I ask you or Lijah and Niky and Bex." You nod your head, not even mentioning Jackson.

Hayley sighs, shaking her head, a smile lighting up her face just a tad. "Yes, exactly" Hayley says, making Jackson smile as well.

"Okay Sweetie, it's time for Hope to take a nap. So why don't we get you out of that crib and we can have a bit of fun." Hayley leans against the railings of the crib, watching as Hope is already starting to doze off.

You nod your head in understanding and lean over to place a kiss on her head before raising your arms up to be picked up.

Jackson walks over and leans into the crib and picks you up from underneath your arms. And before he can place you on his hip, he almost drops you from the sharp pain emitting from his arm. He lets out a groan of pain, making Hayley immediately turn her attention to you guys.

She brings you into her arms once she sees the blood streaming down Jackson's arm. She lets out a gasp seeing the amount of blood staining his shirt and dribbles of his blood running down your chin.

She nods to her connecting room, and Jackson follows her and you snug in her arms into the bedroom.

"Are you okay?" Hayley asks him urgently after turning around from the door she closed. "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just stings a bit" Jackson hisses as he wraps his shirt he picked up from the dresser top around the bite marks.

"Okay, okay. Are you sure?" She asks worried. "Hayley, I promise you, I'm okay" Jackson smiles reassuringly.

"Alright," She nods, "Now on to other business, what were you thinking, missy?"

You glare up at her and then over to Jackson, your vampire face coming out, veins popping out underneath your red eyes. A growl makes it's way out of your throat.

"Hey, hey, no! Y/n, stop" Hayley looks back and forth from you to Jackson and then back to you again. "No!" you yell back at her. you then turn to face Jackson again, "Go 'way!" you yell at him. It's bad enough he's always here but if he tries to get close to you then make you good with him then he'll plan to leave and take Hayley and Hope with him. And they'll leave you behind. You don't want that, you don't want Hayley to leave and for Jackson to steal her from you.

Hayley and Jackson both paused, staring at you with their lips parted. It takes a long moment before Hayley finally snaps out of it. "Why would you say that, Sweetie? Jack is a part of this family now" Hayley says, rubbing her hand up and down your small arm.

You snapped your head up at her after what she just said. How could she?! He's not a part of this family, he's an intruder!

"NO!" You scream, tears forming in your eyes. There's so many emotions coursing through you that you don't know what to do with them all.

"No! No! No! No! No! No! No' family! No!" Big tears begin streaming down your cheeks, and past your jaw.

Hayley cupped the back of your head and pulled it against her chest then started rocking back and forth. "Hey, shhhh, it's okay, Sweetie, it's going to be okay. I've got you." Hayley speaks in a soothing voice over your sobs. She's over to Jackson with a helpless look on her face, not knowing where to go from here.

Jackson gives her a reassuring look and nod before making his way quietly over to the two of you.

You're still clung to Hayley, hands clutched to the collar of her soft shirt. You haven't noticed the man less than a foot away before his hand is on your back. The five away is his hands are significantly bigger than Hayley's, and you can feel Hayley's gentle and warm hands supporting the back of your head and your bottom to keep you up.

By now your sobs have died down from clinging against Hayley, but your breathing is beginning to become more erratic again. But before you could start to hyperventilate, Jackson starts to talk.

"Um, Y/n, I know you seem to not like me as much and I can understand why, I do. I'm a stranger who just came out of nowhere and began dating Hayley and get caught up with your family. But I was and am not a threat to you, I want you to know that you're just as safe with me as you are with Hayley. And despite that, I'll never come between you guys. I know you love her very much, Hun, and I know you probably feel threatened by me for taking her away, huh?" Jackson rubs his hand in circles as he calmly talks.

You pull away from Hayley and look up at the werewolf. Slowly, you begin to nod, agreeing. He's right, you do feel threatened that he'll take Hayley away from you.

"You take Hayley away. Leave me alone" your lip juts out and eyes dilate in sadness. Jackson sighs in sympathy, "I'd never take her away from you. I love her very much and think of you both as family."

Jackson lifts his hand up and softly ruffles your hair. "And Hope?" You ask. "Yes, and Hope" Jackson chuckles.

"Jack's right, Sweetie. You don't have to ever worry about us leaving you, alright" Hayley smiles to both you and him. "Okay," you smile. She places a kiss against the crown of your head.

Nothing could ruin this night.

[lia1512]

Forgiving love

A forgotten date night

As the afternoon sunlight begins to dim, you sit in bed waiting patiently for your husband, Elijah Mickelson, to walk through the door. You have been eagerly anticipating this date night for months and cannot wait to finally be together again. However, as the minutes pass by and he is still not home, you begin to worry. 'Isn't he coming home tonight?' you think to yourself. The thought of him forgetting your special night out together fills you with anxiety and you begin to pace back and forth in the room.

As the clock ticks by and still no sign of him, you begin to wonder if he's forgotten about date night. You consider calling him, but you're afraid to bother him in case he is working. Finally, after another 15 minutes, you decide to send him a text message. That's when you notice it. A notification flashes up on your phone: a text message from Elijah.

The text reads: "I'm so sorry honey busy day. I'm on my way home now."

Your heart skips a beat when you read his text. For a split second, you feel furious and betrayed. It's not the first time that he's forgotten about your special date nights together, and you're fed up with being let down constantly. You can't believe that he would forget such an important night out, and you're angry at yourself for being so naive as to think he'd remember this time.

As you wait anxiously for his return, you feel like you're about to explode with rage. You start pacing back and forth across the room, trying to calm down and contain your emotions. The anger within you grows stronger as every second passes and he is still not home. You start to think of all the time and energy you've put into planning this date night and how it all went to waste because of Elijah's forgetfulness.

Finally, after what feels like ages, you hear the front door open and close behind him. You stand there nervously as he enters the room. He immediately spots you, and you see the shock and guilt spread across his face when he realizes what he's done. "Honey, I'm so sorry," he says immediately, walking quickly towards you. "I completely forgot about our date night."

You can feel the anger rising within you again, but before you can say anything, he presses a finger against your lips and holds your gaze. "Please, let me explain," he says earnestly. "I know I messed up, but I promise I'll make it up to you." The way he looks at you, so vulnerable and apologetic, makes you want to forgive him already.

You stay silent for a moment, trying to suppress your anger. But then gradually, you begin to soften. "You'd better make it up to me," you finally say after a few seconds of silence. "I put in so much effort for this date night, and you just forgot about it so easily."

He knows he needs to make it up to you somehow, and that includes more than just words. You watch as his hands reaching for your hips. He pulls you close to him, and you can feel his breath on your neck as he whispers, "I know how to make this up to you..."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel the tension in the air between you two as he pulls you even closer. He slides his hands up and down your hips, leaving goosebumps everywhere they touch. You can feel the heat building up between you as his touches get more passionate. You lean into him, pressing yourself tight against him. He kisses your neck, and then slowly brings his mouth down to yours. It's one passionate kiss, and you can feel his love and affection for you.

As he pulls away, he whispers, "Let me show you..."

[jungle-angel]

The Little Bookworm (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob can't get enough of your kids being obsessed with books

It was the gloomiest of fall days with the skies over Montana having gone darker than expected, almost as if night were setting in at lunchtime.

Auggie had been perched on the little bay window seat in the living room, the rain battering the diamond paned windows while the woodstove in the living room made the house warm and cozy. Bob didn't particularly like having the tv on all day, but The Nightmare Before Christmas seemed like the perfect background noise on a day like this and with Halloween fast approaching, it made it even better.

Bob smiled a little seeing his little mini-me completely engrossed in one of the books you had gotten him. Auggie had always loved pulling books from the shelf, no matter how big or how small they were and loved making up his own stories to tell you, Bob and the rest of the family.

"Auggie, come and eat," Bob called from the kitchen.

Auggie giggled and shut his book, running right for the kitchen and seating himself into his chair. Bob had definitely outdone himself this time, grilled cheese with bacon, a side of kettle cooked potato chips and a kosher dill pickle on the side.

"Whatcha reading buddy?" Bob asked him.

"Um.....I dunno," Auggie chirped with a big grin on his face before taking a bite out of his sandwich.

"You don't know?!" Bob questioned, pretending to be shocked.

"It's about these three guys and a bad guy who doesn't like them so they've gotta stop him," Auggie explained.

The more Auggie chattered, the more Bob couldn't control the broad smile on his face. The Three Musketeers had been one of his favorites growing up, one that his father had grown up reading as well. Now that Auggie was reading it, he was proud beyond words that his love of the book had been passed down to his son.

As soon as lunch was done, Bob took a look at Auggie's bookshelf and made a list of other books that he didn't have, noting that they would most likely be his Christmas gift that year. He made his way upstairs while Auggie scooted back to his little corner, hoping you were still up in your shared bedroom and sure enough, you were.

"Still working away Mrs. Floyd?" he asked, scooting in next to you.

"All I can do Bob," you told him.

You had been needle-felting all day as a movie played out on the tv that was mounted on the wall. Bob felt awful that you were on strict bedrest, but after the last ultrasound appointment, you both knew it was what you and your baby girl needed. Luckily Reagan and her husband, Elijah, lived close by in case anything came up, but it still made Bob nervous whenever you got up in the middle of the night to pee.

Yet he was in awe at the Halloween decorations you had made for Auggie's kindergarten class, little pumpkins that looked like fairy houses, witches in their pointed little hats and little brooms in their hands, fuzzy little bats with googly eyes and silly looking little spiders, black cats with slinky little tails, ghosts with their mouths wide open and even two little figures that turned out to be Jack and Sally and even a little Zero from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

"Did you do all this while I was downstairs?" Bob asked, picking up the soft, fuzzy little figures.

"Yep," you answered proudly. "Kay told me that while the kids were outside playing in the yard, Auggie, Gabe, Nicky and Pete were all collecting sticks and wanted to bring them home. I figured I could use them to make a little Halloween tree."

Bob remembered having been a kid at that type of school and having had Kay's mother for his kindergarten teacher. They were wonderful days, learning how to make fresh bread and soup for lunch, playing with his friends, listening to stories and plenty of playing outside. Yet they had been tough too. Bob remembered some days when his father had gotten a deployment notice. He would hide out in a corner of the classroom and cry until Kay's mother had to gently coax him out. Bob had made damn sure that Auggie, Patrick and any other children you might have, would never have to go through that when they started school. But luckily, Bob and the rest of the Daggers had been fully and honorably discharged by the time Patrick had been born.

"You've gotta teach me how to do this because I'm curious now," Bob chuckled.

"Believe me I will," you told him. "I need a partner so I can keep from getting bored."

Up the stairs came those familiar little feet you heard running through the house day after day on the weekends. "Daddy, Daddy," Auggie chirped again. "Can you read to me?"

"C'mere buddy," Bob said, lifting him up into the bed with his book and putting him between you both.

You rode out the rest of the rainy afternoon, reading The Three Musketeers and the adventures they had lived. Auggie was practically jumping with excitement whenever Bob read the swordfight scenes, the both of you happy and proud that he was your little bookworm.

[lemony-and-zesty]

Omg not another drabble for hitman!JD :]

This one’s for you especially @elijah-doodle ;)) Since you wanted to know and all :)

Silly side note cause I thought it was funny but this is titled “The one that got away” in my drafts 😭😭

———————

The small apartment John Dory found himself living in was pretty peaceful, all things considered. Especially this early in the morning. JD was fast asleep in that slab of concrete he called a bed, finally having managed to pass out a couple hours ago.

There was a sudden, loud knock on the door.

“Hey! Git up! Boss wants ta see ya.”

John Dory groans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

“C’mon kid, he ain’t gonna wait long.”

He crawled out of bed, rubbing a hand down his face before huffing out an, “Alright, alright. Gimme a minute.”

The voice at the door seemed appeased at this, and JD could hear his footsteps fading.

Stupid.

He took his time getting ready, it really was too early for this.

After sliding on his coat and goggles, he yanked the door open. He wasn’t surprised to see the other troll hadn’t gone far.

He gave JD a sharp nod, “Good. C’mon kid.”

JD held his tongue at that.

He let the other man lead him, despite knowing the way like the back of his hand. Best not to start a fight over something stupid.

They left the apartment building off into a back alley.

JD shoved his hands into his pockets and let his mind stray for a bit. As per usual, he found himself thinking about his brothers. He can’t help but wonder what they’d be up to now. Shit, how old would they be again?

He starts trying to add it up in his head, counting it out with his fingers.

It’s been, what? 10, no 15 years? Maybe? He couldn’t be sure until he got a glimpse at a calendar.

His mind continued to wander for a bit before he’s suddenly jolted out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder.

Reacting quickly, he spins around and sweeps the assailant’s legs. They tumble to the ground with a, “Aw SHIT-“

JD unsheathes the spikes on his glove’s knuckle, preparing to strike the person before coming to a dead stop.

Oh.

Oh fuck.

“-HELL kid, the fck’r ya doin!”

JD stumbles back, his hands going to his coat. He brushes at it, not just trying to play it off but also to soothe his shaking hands, “Sorry. Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

The man who’d been walking him glared up at him - partly out of shock, partly out of fury. After a moment he shakes his head, “Whatever kid.”

JD snarls at that, “For the love of- Stop. calling. me-“

The door behind JD slams open, “Ah! Johnny! You’re right on time.”

A stocky pale yellow troll with golden, slicked back hair dressed in a gray pinstripe suit sets his hands on JD’s shoulders turning him around and lightly shoving him into the room he’d just burst out of, “Now, if you’ll excuse us.”

He kicks the door shut behind them, not sparing the man another glance.

He leads JD to his desk, his grip tightening on his shoulders before releasing him altogether.

“B-Boss I can explain-“

He holds a hand up to silence him as he rounds the desk and takes a seat, “No need. It’s not my business what you get up to outside of work. As long as you don’t kill any of my employees, I couldn’t care less.”

JD gulps, once again rubbing his hands against his coat.

“Now, what is my business is, well, my business. So,” He reaches into a drawer, pulling out a slip of paper - his next hit, JD assumes - and sliding it across the desk for him to look at, “Let’s talk business.”

John Dory freezes the instant his eyes see the paper. No, not paper. The poster. It was a poster for a concert for an up and coming solo artist.

No. No no no no no.

Staring back up at him were the eyes of a troll he hadn’t seen in 15 or so years.

No. Anything but this. Please.

Staring up at him was none other than Floyd. His baby brother.

[andreal831]

i have heard a lot of people deny that Marbekah isn't a problematic ship, and if anyone ever discusses the issues it's usually about Marcel choosing NOLA over Rebekah. But never the fact that Rebekah knew him a child.

And usually the defence is that Rebekah (like Elijah) wasn't an active parent after Klaus' jealous tantrum. I admit that Rebekah didn't fraternize with child!Marcel with the sole purpose of dating him, so traditional 'grooming' definition is hard to apply.

But Rebekah never set any kind of proper boundaries between them. When he initially had a crush on her, she should have explained that they're 'family' now and that's not how it works, thus stopping his crush from going further but not drive him away. She was the adult at that time.

On top of it, Marcel grew up watching Klaus-Rebekah's messed up dynamic. He was a traumatized child who watched these stuff being normalized by two of his white guardians. And the show has never been subtle about Marcel being raised in Klaus' image, or how much Klaus & Rebekah date people that look or act like eachother.

Oh and the casual disregard for adopted kids.

Why do you think Marbekah goes under the radar for this, when Caroline+Alaric, Stelena , Delena and Klaroline are often ripped apart for this exact reason?

Does it have anything to do with Marcel being poc or is it the infantilisation of Rebekah's character?

I used to really love Marbekah. They were top 3 TVDU ships for me. But the more I think about it, the more I have to rewrite to keep loving them. And I do want to love them just because it is one of the two ships I loved that actually got an endgame. But in typical TVDU fashion, the ships that got endgames were so problematic.

I don't think anyone can say Marbekah isn't problematic. It's one thing to love them, but they are deeply problematic for several reasons. One of them will always be Marcel constantly choosing either Klaus or New Orleans over her.

But the bigger reason is Rebekah grooming him. Because there isn't another way to say it. Rebekah knew Marcel as a child, helped raise him, and then quickly got into a relationship with him. We don't really know how old he was but he was at least in his early twenties when they first got together.

For the most part, as you said, I just headcannon that Rebekah wasn't an active parent in Marcel's life. But the show actively tries to fight against that narrative. The scene where Marcel is a literal child saying he wants to marry Rebekah was meant to be cute, but it's gross considering they then have a romantic relationship. You do mention that it doesn't fit the traditional definition of grooming, but I think it does because of that scene. Marcel makes a comment about being attracted to Rebekah in a way that he wants to marry her as a child and instead of seeing Rebekah rebuke this, she is flattered and essentially gives him a goal, saying she wouldn't marry someone who couldn't beat her in a duel. Not that she couldn't marry a child or someone her brother was raising as a son. This is then paired with a flashback of them dueling when he is an adult and they begin to kiss. The fact that they are still dueling all those years later make it seem as if she had an active role in his life. Rebekah's failure to set boundaries and encouraging the crush is a form of grooming. As you said, she should have set him down and explained family. But also as you point out, Rebekah doesn't really understand healthy family.

Marcel being raised by the Mikaelsons turned him into a Mikaelson. In some good ways and some bad. Marcel definitely has a lot of similar traits to Klaus. I definitely think there is an aspect of Rebekah choosing Marcel because of that, but also simply because the Mikaelsons had to keep it in the family or Klaus would lose his mind. Even though he also lost his mind here. But at least Rebekah wasn't worried about Klaus killing Marcel like he had killed every other lover she had in the past.

Klaus stans will say he "punished" Rebekah because of the grooming, but that's really ignoring his entire character and the entire show. Rebekah took something that belonged to him, because he viewed Marcel as property more than a child. This is another reason people overlook the grooming, because people don't view Marcel as a Mikaelson or as a child of Klaus. I've always been curious of where the last name "Gerard" came from. Why wouldn't he go by Mikaelson if he was raised by them? Klaus gave him a first name but not their last name? Potentially Marcel dropped it to distance himself, but even in the flashbacks, we don't see him truly being regarded as a Mikaelson. The show did this because they understood they were walking a creepy line of predatory/incest.

I think Marbekah tends to get less judgment than the other ships because people think Marcel and Rebekah are morally superior than the other characters. This is not true for everyone, just something I've seen with both of their stans. I love Rebekah, but I get attacked if I ever criticize her for how she treated the teenagers in TVD. Or the fact that Rebekah dated teenage Matt and used money and the ability to travel to persuade him to be with her. Or when I compare Marcel to Klaus, because they do have a lot of similarities. I've noticed with a lot of characters who may have less terrible deeds under their belt get away with murder, literally. If you criticize them, people will respond with "You like x, and they've done worse," instead of holding their character accountable. Or like with Klaus, their abuse is used to excuse all of their misdeeds.

People will argue that Rebekah was turned as a a 16 year old teenager so she was a teenager and it was fine for her to date teenagers, but then Marcel being with her at 25 years old is problematic as he's an adult sleeping with a 16 year old. Or Even Damon who was turned at 24 years old. So that argument is still problematic.

I do think Marcel being a POC does play a role. POC children and teens tend to face "adultification" in media, so people are less concerned about them being groomed or taken advantage of by adults. I do also agree that Rebekah is often infantilized. I blame a lot of her behavior in TVD for that. She behaved like a child. But in TO, they matured her so much, even in the flashbacks. If TVD Rebekah was with Marcel, I think that would have felt creepy on his part.

Like I said, I do still enjoy Marbekah, but I can't think about it too much or it grosses me out. I do prefer my ships to be age appropriate and contain the least amount of toxicity we can expect from a series like TVDU.

Thanks for the ask!

[train-wrecc]

– “ DATING NIKLAUS MIKAELSON “ HEADCANON's

niklaus mikaelson x human!female!reader –

warnings!: kidnapping, blood, murder, somewhat stalkerish tendencies mentioned?

word count: 2.03k requested by: @catmikaelson20

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Klaus had noticed your arrival in New Orleans straight away, after all, it was his city, and he was the King of it, or so he liked to think.

Something about your piercing eyes which were always filled with curiosity and wonder as you wandered the city full of supernaturals, had caught his attention.

The city could get windy at times and he loved watching as you made your way through the French Quarter, your shiny locks swinging in the wind.

Klaus had thought he had been very stealthy, however, he was not. 

You’d always find him not too far from you, lurking in the shadows, it really should’ve creeped you out that some hybrid had been following you albeit it was the opposite.

You found it comforting in a way, knowing someone was always looking out for you.

Elijah, knew you were Klaus's current infatuation, so after a few months of suffering and having to watch Niklaus practically stalk you, he had decided he would introduce himself to you, seeing as he’d seen you around as well.

You thought it was by chance that you’d run into the Elijah Mikaelson, however, it was not. Elijah had figured out your routine and purposely ran into you on your daily stop at the cafe you had been working at. 

Elijah hurriedly walked into the cafe after you had been in there for 10 minutes, as he had seen you talking to your coworkers. You had accidentally spilled your coffee all over his crisp suit, your face besmirched with nothing other than horror. 

Your mouth had been agape, before you had finally shaken out of your daze, “Oh my god, I am so sorry! I swear you came out of nowhere, here, let me help you.” You quickly rambled.

“Don’t worry about it, I didn’t much care for this suit anyways,” He assured you, as you frantically patted napkins against the material of the suit in an attempt to dry it.

He placed his hand against yours to stop you, “It’s quite alright…” He said, waiting for you to fill in your name for him.

“Y/n, you’re the infamous Elijah Mikaelson,” You responded.

“Indeed, I am, Y/n.” He said, a charming smile on his face.

“You Mikaelsons are awfully famous around here… huh,”

“Yes, our family has some history in New Orleans, we practically built the city,”

“Wow, here, let me buy you a coffee or something to make up for your destroyed suit, although I’m sure it costs much more than a 5-dollar coffee,” You laughed.

“Well, I’ll gladly take the coffee,”

The both of you had settled into a conversation, as you strolled about the Quarter.

Elijah had been telling you all about the supernatural history of New Orleans, seeing as you had told him you knew about vampires, wolves, and witches, including how you knew he and his family were the Originals.

You had gestured to your vervain ring, as you had explained your numerous encounters with various supernatural beings.

You had even gotten talking about hobbies, and how you quite enjoyed writing, which had prompted a proposal from Elijiah, “It’s quite interesting that you mention that, my brother Niklaus is in desperate need of an editor or typist, he’s got a few things in the works, I’m sure he’d love your assistance.”

“Oh, I’m not sure I’d be much help,”

“I assure you he’d deeply appreciate it, and I’m sure you’re quite the novelist yourself,” He sang your praises, and you gave in.

When you first met Niklaus he tried to keep his guard up around you, trying to come off as intimidating, however, his plan had backfired.

“Y’know sometimes when I walk through the quarter, for some reason, I just feel eyes on me, like someone’s watching me, hiding in the shadows. Do you ever feel like that?” You’d told the hybrid. 

His face slightly twitched before he quickly hid it with a smirk on his full lips, “Love, I’m Niklaus Mikaelson, I’ve always got eyes on me, I have an exponential amount of enemies that’d love to get me when I’m vulnerable.”

The more time the two of you spent together, the more you somehow broke down the hybrid’s concrete walls.

Niklaus may have been stubborn, but so were you.

“Niklaus, you’re writing is exceptional, you don’t need my help, so why do you insist that I help you edit your work?”

“Love, my writing is exceptional because you edit it.”

“Nonsense. You know, with the amount of time we spend together, you’d think I’d know more about you, I mean I feel like you practically know everything about me…”

Eventually, Niklaus opened up to you about everything, from the years of abuse he suffered at the hand of his father, to his deep fear of abandonment, how he’d always felt odd due to being a “bastard” child.

You knew Nik had flaws, however there was something about him that pulled you in, maybe it was his dedication to his family and their long promise of always and forever.

It was something you wish your family had, that kind of closeness, that no matter what they did, you’d always go back to each other, however, your family was far from that.

From his insistent paranoia to his anger issues, you’d still fallen for him.

Secretly he felt the same, your outer and inner beauty, kindness, and caring personality had made him wrapped around your finger.

He desperately tried to hide it but failed.

Whenever you’d leave, he’d insist on taking you home, to ensure you’d made it safely, as well as insisting you texted him when you were safely inside your apartment.

Eventually, it came to the point where you’d see each other every day, Niklaus often stopping by your work for a cup of his usual coffee. It had gotten to the point where your coworkers had thought he was your boyfriend, which you’d always deny. 

However, there was a twinge in your heart that deeply wanted a relationship with the infamous hybrid.

Everyone could see that you both were head over heels in love with each other but the two of you, whenever anyone said anything you both denied what was right in front of you.

“You’ve truly lost your mind, Rebekah, there’s no way she feels any sort of way for me. She’s too kind. Too pure.”

“Yeah right, like Klaus Mikaelson has feelings for me!” You had laughed.

What finally changed the dynamic of your relationship was when you had been kidnapped by one of Klaus’s enemies.

You had been held hostage and tortured for days, before Klaus finally found you in the abandoned warehouse.

He had torn up the city looking for you, whilst threatening witches to do locator spells for him.

When he came to rescue you, you watched as he murdered your captors in cold blood.

He freed you from the ropes which held you, blood besmirching his face and clothes, as his eyes that glowed yellow returned to their usual blue color.

He pulled you into a tight embrace, clinging to you as he muttered various apologies, from being sorry for getting you kidnapped to having to see him end your captor's lives.

You simply gave him a weak smile, hands on his face, you wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth before smashing your lips against his.

He returned the kiss with fervor, before pulling away.

He opened his eyes, “We shouldn’t start this, Y/n, I don’t want to endanger you any more than I already have.”

After that Niklaus had kept his distance from you, however, returned to keeping an eye on you from the shadows.

You had had enough.

You had stormed into the compound yelling and demanding Klaus to come out. Once you had you’d told him off about how he had no right to decide what was best for you, seeing as you were a grown woman who could make her own decisions.

“Who are you to decide what’s best for me Klaus?! I am in love with you and I don’t care if that put’s me in danger!”

It felt like hours had passed as you and Niklaus shouted back and forth, voices echoing throughout the compound for Rebekah and Elijah to hear.

Somehow Klaus had come to the realization that you were more stubborn than him. He murmured a “Bloody hell,” before he shut you up with a kiss.

From then on, you and Klaus had begun dating.

You and Klaus were inseparable.

He always wanted to be near you, in order to protect you, and if he couldn’t he’d order Elijah, Rebekah, Marcel, or someone to guard you when he couldn’t.

He’d constantly surprise you with random gifts such as flowers, “Just because,”.

Klaus would always spoil you, and always insist that he pay for everything, “Love, you’re a queen, and deserve to be treated like it.”

Taking you on random dates, spontaneous trips.

Not long after you began dating, you’d moved into the compound, Klaus no longer wanting you to be living in your apartment by yourself.

Depending on your hair type: Nik would learn how to braid, after you’d complain about your arms aching after having finished doing your own box braids or cornrows /// having to braid your hair before you sleep so you wouldn’t get split ends or tangles in the morning.

He’d always deny it but he secretly loved cuddling, especially when he was the small spoon.

Constantly having to be touching you, whether it be an arm around your waist, his palm against your thigh, holding hands.

Learning to cook your favorite meal.

Waking up each morning to your favorite morning drink on your bedside table.

Catching him watching you as you applied your makeup, “I can’t help it, love, it’s not my fault you’re so gorgeous.”

Always wanting your attention, “Love, are you listening to me?” 

“Of course, I am, lovey.”

Needing to have one of your AirPods in, so he could listen to your music as well.

Countless nights where the both of you would just stay up talking about anything and everything.

If you wear glasses/contacts, he’d love when you wore your glasses over your contacts.

Whenever you would do some self-care such as face masks, he’d always want to participate as well, “Darling, just because I’m an immortal hybrid doesn’t mean that I don’t need to take care of my skin, I mean this isn’t just immortality, it’s SPF as well.”

Whenever he was stressed he’d love it when you’d play with his hair, it always soothed him and melted his stress.

When he’s upset he’d take some time to himself not wanting to lash out at you.

You and Rebekah were the best of friends and loved teasing Klaus together.

You’d eventually learn that Elijah had set you up, because Klaus had never really been looking for an editor or typist.

“Elijah! I can’t believe this,” You laughed.

Whenever Nik would wake up from a nightmare, you’d be right there for him, placing soothing kisses on his shoulder to comfort him.

You would be the first to say the L word, it had been after you and Nik had been dating for almost a year. 

You always knew you had strong feelings for Nik, however, they were really brought to light when you’d gotten extremely sick, and Nik spent every day at your bedside taking care of you.

You had been slightly delirious but you meant every word.

Nik had been laying next to you, the both of you facing each other after he had just made you your favorite soup.

Your hand reached for his own, clasping it. His blue eyes met your own, “I love you, Niklaus Mikaelson.”

It had left him slightly shocked, his mouth slightly agape, before a large dimpled grin spread across his face, “I love you too, Y/n Y/l/n.”

You both loved each other immensely and would do anything for each other.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

A/N: Idk how to feel about this…

[itskindofidontknow]

What dreams know about love?

Chapter 15

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

Love, with Elijah’s discreet assistance, managed to navigate to her quarters without encountering any other cupids, a challenging feat given the palace's current bustling state. The corridors were abuzz with their presence, some exploring with curious abandon, others engaged in aimless conversations, young lovers seeking secluded corners, and tardy arrivals lugging more baggage than necessary in search of their lodgings.

Remaining silent throughout the journey, the queen conveyed her preference for solitude, a cue that Elijah intuitively respected. As they finally reached the hallway leading to her room, he maintained a respectful distance, keeping a few paces behind. His mind teemed with unspoken questions about how he might ease the frenzy of the approaching days. Not only was the Solstice Festival imminent, but a sudden change in plans dictated that following the festival, the court, led by the queen and extended to include Elijah, would depart for the Garden with no intent to return to the Dreaming.

Despite his aversion to the Dreaming's tense atmosphere and unpredictable nature, Elijah harbored hopes that after the festivities, relations would improve, perhaps even leading to a more permanent stay, albeit with occasional visits to the Garden. Yet, since their return from their unexpected night excursion, whether to Cain's or Abel's remained uncertain, the situation had deteriorated further. Previously, there had been heated arguments; now, Love actively avoided Dream, a silent treatment that felt more cutting than their verbal clashes.

Perhaps this was precisely why he preferred scholarly pursuits over fieldwork. "Oh, my love, that undoubtedly explains it," he imagined the Emissary's teasing response, eliciting a wistful smile. How he longed for those playful exchanges with his irreverent lover

"There she is! It seems they were right, m’lady, when they said that Love arrives when least expected." The Seamstress's voice broke the solemn silence as she rose from her vanity chair, her joints audibly protesting, while she directed the maids to fetch the dinner gown and her needles. Despite the noticeable change in Love's demeanor, marked by rare smiles and monosyllabic responses to inquiries about the gown's fit, the old woman refrained from commenting. Perhaps preoccupied with her task, she inadvertently pricked Love more than once, though the queen suspected it was no accident.

The Seamstress grew more cordial as she neared the completion of her work, presenting a dinner gown distinct from the queen's usual attire. The corset was unusually tight, enhancing her figure in ways that made Love feel increasingly exposed with each breath, despite the Seamstress's assurances that it was purely her imagination. The corset, she insisted, was intended for support, not scandal.

Long ago, during her early days of marriage, Love possessed dinner attire in dark shades, alongside the most exquisite ball gowns, delicate nightgowns that left little to the imagination, and lace undergarments meant to entice and be undone by her husband, adorned from head to toe, a gift to the Dream King waiting to be unwrapped.

Now dressed in black, she appeared different, changed by the passage of years—centuries even. Entities like her were not supposed to change fundamentally; they might alter in appearance, yet their essence remained steadfast.

But she did change. Love may still appear youthful in countenance, yet there was a weariness etched into her otherwise immaculate features, like a soldier returning from prolonged warfare, donning his uniform once more, fitting, yet somehow unfamiliar.

Dresses had never posed a bother; she could conjure them effortlessly. Nevertheless, she relished being attended to by her maids, finding a ritualistic pleasure in their gentle ministrations. It was during these moments that the maids, at ease with their tasks and one another, engaged in conversations that swiftly turned to gossip, a most reliable means for Love to remain abreast of palace affairs.

Eoster had always delighted in the layers, the petticoats, the snug corsets, the diverse lengths and styles of gowns, puffy, flowing sleeves, varied necklines. With each design, she could metamorphose into someone entirely new: demure, audacious, or provocative. Fabrics too held a special allure, silk, tulle, velvet, muslin, even plain cotton for days spent tending the garden, all crafted into attire befitting a queen.

Yet, for the first time, she found herself unsettled. Was it the garments or the relentless thought of her husband’s son that plagued her? Her dinner gown, as dark as a starless night, featured an elongated bodice tapering to the hips, a low bustle intricately draped with flounces and ruffles in fishtail fashion. The broad neckline showcased a splendid necklace, sparkling against her skin, an intended constellation adorning her nocturnal ensemble.

It felt stifling, burdensome. She longed to tear it asunder, if only to draw a breath unhindered. Worse still, the maids seemed to multiply, each adding layers, tightening already taut knots. When presented with white evening gloves, she shook her head against the insistent tug from a girl styling her hair. Love said nothing. "No, fetch the black ones," she commanded, a rare deviation from expectation. The maids exchanged puzzled glances at the uncharacteristic request.

The gloves had been a wedding gift from Honesty, left untouched in their box upon a closet shelf. Her sister's note, penned in gold ink with ornate flourishes, remained affixed to the black ribbon: "Proper gloves for a proper Queen of Nightmares."

Who said Honesty didn’t possess a sense of humor?

Handling the box with care, fearing its fragility, they undid the white ribbon and unfurled the silk paper enveloping the black, over-the-elbow gloves. Love studied her reflection, the black accentuating her green eyes, lightening her caramel curls. The crowning touch was a translucent veil shimmering with stardust, affixed to her crown, cascading elegantly over her shoulders to brush the floor. She appeared regal, resplendent, yet the dark attire lent an air of the sinister, a clichéd malevolence from fairy tales, the enchantress who ensnares heroes away from their beloveds, the Odile to the prince’s Odette.

But Morpheus was no knight in shining armor, no gallant prince in a white horse. No, her husband bore the likeness of a possessive villain, the jealous antagonist who ensnares the virtuous princess, akin to Count Paris whom Juliet adamantly spurns.

Both were villains in each other's tales.

Her attire in black also served as a declaration of loyalty to her husband, a reminder to the cupids that, while Love reigned as Queen of the Garden, Morpheus, although reluctantly, ruled as King of the Garden by virtue of marriage. They must accord him the same respect they willingly bestowed upon Eoster, if not willingly, then by compulsion.

They must remember to regard him as their sovereign and avoid any semblance of threat.

She could not shield them if they offended Morpheus within his own domain. They would be at his mercy, which, knowing her husband, meant none at all. She might plead, cast herself at his feet in tears, it would not make a difference. Morpheus tolerated no insolence, especially not from his subjects, and certainly not from his wife. Such defiance might only worsen the consequences.

The remainder of her preparations proceeded smoothly. Eoster allowed herself to be maneuvered like a puppet, her uncharacteristic silence noted by all, though none dared to question its cause given the circumstances. Elijah visited intermittently, seeking approval to dispatch additional invitations, the recipients of which held little interest for her. She nodded in agreement, silently praying for his swift departure so she might return to her ruminations.

Her thoughts lingered on Orpheus, his name echoing alongside Death's voice, each repetition a reminder of his uncertain fate. She pictured him, his face, his demeanor, wondering if he bore his father's dark hair and his mother's easy countenance. Was he stoic, reserved like Morpheus, or vibrant, full of life like herself? Did he carry shame as a bastard, or did he view himself as wronged, denied his rightful place, viewing Love as the adversary? ‘Foolish’, she thought, if he believed the latter, yet perhaps understandable given his circumstances. He likely loved his parents, and seeing his father flaunt a wife who was not his mother, must have unsettled him.

Part of her felt relieved that Morpheus, in his way, had shown respect to Love. Despite his inability to marry Calliope, he could have relegated her to this palace. She heard of some gossip about husbands that did that. A terrible fate endured by some unfortunate wives. Princesses and queens forced to endure discreet glances, furtive touches beneath the dinner table, clandestine disappearances during meals.

Could she endure such a fate? Perhaps she would succumb to despair, leaving her next incarnation to untangle this mess. Love believes that she would endure even the filthy pleasure sounds coming from the other bedroom being echoed through the walls, she would simple stabbed her ears and let it bleed without any desire to fix them, but she wouldn’t be able to see her, or deal with the pity.

But the pity! Love hated the pity, how people would surround her pretending to understand wishing to hear her speak from the heart when all they wanted was to be fed gossip. Gossip that would get to Desire’s ears and would turn into a joke in the next family reunion.

Children would complicate matters further. Not her own, of course. Why schedule date nights if he had his muse readily available? Why choose to lie with a willing yet disinterested wife, that avoided his gaze like the plague, trained by him to lie still and exposed like a doll, to remain as silent as possible, pretending to be anywhere but there? But the boy, eventually, he would find Love, children are curious. How would she receive him? Would she be cruel, distant, or might she grow attached to a child who could never be hers?

Maybe she would have stabbed Calliope. No. Maybe she would’ve stabbed herself. He could easily find another lover, but not her half of his soul.

The Spring Queen dismissed such thoughts as they proved futile and distracting. Orpheus was gone. Calliope remained somewhere distant, a place Love neither knew nor cared to discover. Her liaison with Dream had concluded on acrimonious terms. Though he had sought others since, he had never fathered another illegitimate child. And Orpheus, Love pondered how his demise might affect her, whether his pain might bring solace to her heart.

An eye for an eye.

A love for another.

The mere notion brought bile to her throat. No, that boy, whoever birthed him, did not deserve suffering. He was but a child, someone's child. The loss of a child, a suffering too terrible to name. Love did not seek revenge; she was not that sort of woman. She scarcely knew what sentiments she harbored toward him, yet she harbored no ill will.

"My lady?" Love blinked, brought back from reverie. The maids and the Seamstress had completed their tasks and now anxiously awaited the queen's approval or disapproval. Their work differed from any prior occasion, prompting thoughts of acknowledgment. But it was not their efforts that drew Love back to the present.

Standing at the threshold was Lucienne, clad in a subdued white rendition of her usual attire, adorned with delicate golden accents. If Love were to hazard a guess, and she rarely wronged in such matters, Elijah had likely coerced the librarian into wearing white. A second guess would suggest he himself was attired in an equal but more elaborate patterned fabric. Elijah had always favored patterns.

Love bestowed a gentle smile upon Lucienne, offering a delicate applause with minimal fanfare, ensuring the maids and the Seamstress received due recognition for their labors. "I am certain my lord husband shall find your work most pleasing." Whether Morpheus would even notice remained uncertain. The maids exchanged cheerful glances, but the Seamstress scowled. "If he possesses any taste, he surely will." Lucienne opened her mouth to protest, but a single glance from Love quelled the librarian's impulse.

The Seamstress acknowledged no authority, and no Endless could silence her. "May your heart guide you well, Seamstress," she replied, her tone dismissive. "My lady, I merely hope you refrain from requesting a black bridal trousseau. This was my final fabric as dark as night, and the journey to acquire it…" She shook her head, implying the memory was too arduous and unpleasant to recount.

The flock of maids followed the Seamstress as she made her exit. With their duties concluded for the evening, they were at liberty to enjoy the festivities as they saw fit. Love awaited their departure before joining Lucienne at the doorway, together making their way toward the ballroom, an extension crafted for the Spring Festival but likely to remain underutilized thereafter.

"I trust Elijah did not impose the attire. It is not obligatory." More an unspoken rule, one Love lacked the energy to elaborate upon. Regardless of their garments, the cupids would scrutinize without relent. Lucienne inclined her head slightly in deference. "No, my lady, he…did not impose upon me in the least." Lucienne hesitated, her words true though not without coercion. Elijah had not troubled her, but that did not imply he had been courteous in his request. He merely shoved the clothes in her chest and commanded her to wear it, like the always patient and kind cupid he was. Love chuckled softly. "You look very proper, quite fitting for the Garden." Likely the affirmation Lucienne sought, the sole reason why she probably let Elijah choose her clothes. Speaking of whom… "And where might my dearest cupid be?"

"He is attending Lord Morpheus, I suspect clarifying certain matters of court division." Love simply nodded. The mention of her husband was enough to pull her away from the fun thoughts of Elijah and Lucienne arguing about clothes redirecting her focus to Morpheus and his son. The librarian observed how her queen's countenance shifted to solemnity, an uneasy silence settling between them. Lucienne had hoped for a reconciliation following the parade, but matters had worsened. Lady Love had not returned to the palace post-parade, while Lord Morpheus appeared distracted and… something else she could not quite decipher,an anger not directed outwards but inwards, at himself.

-----------------

"The Cupids of the court are akin to swans, my lord," Elijah began, his tone carrying a respectful cadence. "Graceful, noble, and proud, they always move in bevies, each distinguishable by their attire." Eros, along with Storge, Philia, and Agape Cupids, were always adorned in pastels or meticulously following dress codes outlined in invitations. Like their Queen, they held a fascination for fabrics and designs, each expressing a unique style that set them apart. Morpheus had no need for the intricate details of their attire, and Elijah had neither the time nor the inclination to elaborate. If only his majesty had attended the scheduled meetings, Elijah would have gladly imparted such knowledge over the weeks. Instead, Elijah found himself imparting information to Lucienne, who filtered it through to the Dream King.

At least, that had been the expectation of both the librarian and the cupid. However, Lord Morpheus disregarded Lucienne or paid scant attention to her instructions. Though he never admitted it outright, the indifference was palpable to the librarian and became evident as the cupid was intercepted by the king just minutes before he could escort Lady Love, inquiring about the court with evident curiosity.

It didn't take long for Elijah to realize that his king was unaware of the wolves in sheep's clothing awaiting him. Elijah struggled to delicately convey the court's disdain for the king. For, in truth, there was nothing to admire. He insulted his subjects among the lovefolk by never visiting, failing to acknowledge his sovereignty, and allowing his queen to suffer. Cupids were natural conversationalists, skilled in gossip; it would be naive to assume they weren't aware of every transgression by Morpheus. They were simply courteous enough never to discuss it with Lady Love.

"One thing worth noting, my lord, is that like swans, cupids can be fiercely aggressive," Elijah continued, his expression grave. "Especially when their sacred institutions or their Swan Queen are disrespected." Which Morpheus had shown towards the queen and the Garden. "Storge Cupids will stop at nothing to retaliate against any who disrespect sacred unions, while Eros Cupids will ruthlessly condemn those who exploit the union of flesh for anything other than mutual pleasure." A swan may not kill, but they could certainly make a night torturous if they wished.

Morpheus glanced towards the flocks of cupids gathering in the corners of the ballroom, their laughter and conversations now filling the once tranquil palace. Young ones ran underfoot of their nannies, while older cupids flirted under the watchful eyes of their chaperones. Mature Cupids scrutinized every detail, commenting on any deviation from their accustomed norms.

All awaited anxiously for the royal presence, or perhaps their prey. A sudden, uneasy silence fell over the room, a collective intake of breath, as Morpheus and Eoster appeared arm in arm at the top of the stairs. Not a soul had anticipated the queen’s arrival clad in all black, presenting a united front with her husband. Elijah and Lucienne followed three steps behind, both attired in pristine white. All eyes watched vigilantly as the king pulled out a chair at the main table for Love to sit, the train of her dress swirling gracefully around her feet as she accepted with a gentle nod, avoiding direct eye contact with her husband.

Once seated, Elijah gestured subtly for the music to resume and signaled for the cupids to line up for their presentations. The first few cupids approached with quiet reverence, bowing deeply and expressing gratitude for the invitation, offering compliments on the Dreaming, much like children forced to be polite to unwelcome guests. Love wasn’t sure if Morpheus could see through their superficial smiles or mechanical bows. To someone unfamiliar with cupids, it might be challenging to discern.

But Morpheus was ancient, older even than Love, and it wouldn't take long for him to detect the underlying sarcasm behind their seemingly submissive facade. She found herself clenching the armrests of her chair, her fingers digging into the wood, her gaze stern as she silently warned them against pushing their luck. Love stole a few quick glances at her husband, attempting to decipher his stoic expression. He abhorred social gatherings, despised noise and frivolity. And now, he was stuck to one.

‘This is a recipe for disaster,’ Love mused inwardly. That was why she had suggested, when he had pressed her to return to the Dreaming, making requests that were undoubtedly impossible to fulfill, a headache in itself. She had never expected Morpheus to accept, and even after their recent falling-out, it was too late to retract. Her subjects were already excited, and Lucienne was already overwhelmed with the minutiae of courtly affairs. Love had expected her husband to cancel everything; he had never cared if any of Love's endeavors consumed time or were meaningful to her. If he didn’t wish it, they simply wouldn't proceed. It was her duty to comply.

But Dream courteously welcomed the Cupids, or as courteously as one could expect. He nodded in acknowledgment as Elijah introduced each cupid by name, title, and their spring duties in the mortal realm, tasks ranging from preparing soil to awakening hibernating creatures and overseeing pollination. He didn't smile; that, of course, would be too much to ask. But at least he wasn't scowling.

Instead of calming her nerves, however, this stoic demeanor kept Love on edge, waiting for his patience to wear thin and for him to dismiss the entire affair as an exercise in futility. He had embarked on this endeavor to regain his queen’s favor, to prove himself a better husband.

All that effort now seemed in vain, since Love had decided not only to leave the Dreaming, but also to refuse to warm his bed on demand. She trusted in his gentlemanly nature not to exploit their bond to coerce her. Even if he had never given her assurance that he wouldn't resort to such measures, she remained convinced that he would not resort to such measures. They had weathered graver situations where he could have employed their bond to inflict cruel retribution, yet he refrained.

The worst that could happen was for Morpheus to. grow weary of the peculiar, rigid, unspoken rules of the lovefolk. Rules that came naturally to them that were designed to ‘ensnare outsiders into embarrassing themselves’ A confession Lucienne did, while Elijah was trying to explain the differences between proper china for luncheon and dinner. All that superficiality and nonsensical fuss Morpheus had once sworn to avoid.

If the queen were a gambler like her sister, she would wager that Lord Destiny was making his influence felt upon his younger brother. ‘Well, at least we've had no incidents yet,’ Love thought, attempting to relax as she took a sip of her wine, her glass matching her husband’s.

"My Lady Eoster!" A voice rang out, it was the Agape Cupids. Killer Swans. "My dear children, blessings from the Garden. Welcome to the Dreaming. May I introduce you to your Lord Morpheus, King of Dreams and Prince of Stories?"

The group of four cupids, all attired in coordinated yellow hues, their pointed hats a distinctive feature, approached in unison. If ever there were a bevy of swans poised to strike, these were they. They did not hide their disapproval as they scrutinized Dream from head to toe, exchanging quick, indecipherable glances, a secret language even Love couldn't discern. "Blessings, my lord," Lysander, their chosen spokesperson, began.

Lysander, among the oldestc cupids in the Garden, had guided more mortals to find love through faith than any other. His mortals often became fanatics and cult leaders, which had led to his earlier retirement from fieldwork in favor of a more theoretical role in Agape court. "My lord, if I may," he continued, "earlier we were exploring your gracious somber realm and encountered some paradoxical sights that seemed devoid of common mortal sense. Is this by your design?"

Love detected no thorn or trap in the question, though her frown deepened as she regarded the seemingly innocent cupid. Even Morpheus appeared to struggle to maintain his customary detachment as he responded politely, "The work of dreamers who visit my realm each night in sleep. I am but the custodian of their subconscious." The cupid folded his hands behind his back, nodding knowingly. "A hoarder of the subconscious. Collecting, collecting, and collecting," he remarked with a smile, the first subtle blow. Love shifted in her seat, taking a long sip of her wine, which tasted too watery for her liking. She cast a sidelong glance at her husband, noticing his clenched jaw, her own throat tightening with the mounting tension between her subjects and their king.

His expression remained unchanged, but with Morpheus, one couldn't read much from a face that could condemn one to the darkness without so much as a raised eyebrow.

"A starving man with an insatiable appetite, never sated, indeed," Lady Rosalind of the Storge Cupids interjected, snapping her lace fan open with a long, almost ironic courtesy toward both her sovereigns. "Lady Rosalind, blessings. What a pleasant surprise," Love interjected quickly, attempting to steer the conversation back to pleasantries, though not with enough effort to sway Rosalind. She was a woman of conviction, deeply traditional, caring, with a sharp tongue and a sharper mind. Respected among the Storge Cupids for her work in establishing enduring bloodlines in the mortal realm, prioritizing family union above all else, even at the cost of individual desires. The happiness of some clearly overlooked by her steadfast commitment to familial cohesion. Pleasantries from her queen would not sway such a killer swan.

“My lady, it is indeed a pleasure to finally visit our sister-realm,” Rosalind remarked with a click of her tongue, a fleeting thought crossing her mind. She barely glanced at Eoster, just enough to observe the required etiquette, her focus unwavering on her objective. “Indeed, Lord Lysander, our sister-realm, is but a pantry with shelves positively overflowed with food.” Lysander added smoothly, “Indeed, the act of hoarding can pack abundant provisions, but can it have any nourishing warmth of affection, when all it do is hoard?” They exchanged a knowing glance, their satisfaction evident.

Before Rosalind could deliver a more pointed remark aimed at Morpheus, Elijah swiftly intervened, appearing almost as promptly as the Cupids had arrived. “Rosalind, Lysander, how delightful to see you once more. I trust I am not interrupting.” If cupids could scorch someone with their mere gaze, Elijah would have surely felt the burn. He harbored a profound dislike for the duo, foreseeing a most unpleasant situation if they persisted in meddling further, particularly in front of Lady Love. Love interjected swiftly before the Cupids could respond in unison, “Oh Elijah, not at all. I believe our cupids were merely gracing us with their presence, but we mustn’t detain them from the reception.” She exchanged a meaningful look with her cupid, signaling her desire to steer the conversation away from potential discord.

“Of course, my lady. It has been far too long since our paths crossed. You simply must meet my esteemed librarian acquaintance…” Elijah interposed smoothly, gently guiding the cupids away with the remaining agape following suit. Dream maintained his silence, his gaze avoiding Love’s, yet the simmering intensity in his eyes did not go unnoticed.

Love couldn’t recall a time when her husband exhibited such restraint.

—------------- Love admired Morpheus for his composure. He did not complain, did not lose his temper; most of the time, he responded with short, polite answers and remained silent when faced with veiled insults. The last cupids hadn’t wasted any time in challenging the king, and word likely spread that the king was unflappable. Knowing her children well, Love expected them to say he was an unrepentant rake, incapable of shame or regret. Love was on her fifth glass of wine, yet felt none of the expected lightness. She tasted the alcohol on her lips but found no solace in her mind. She knew she should avoid drinking, but the situation left her anxious and nervous, and she needed something to calm her.

Perhaps it was thanks to the wine that she managed to say, “It is much appreciated that you did not banish them all to the darkness.” The couple were the only ones still seated as the guests danced to the music, a quadrille that, in another life, Eoster would have loved to join. The privacy felt overwhelming. Thoughts of their last encounter and her argument with Death earlier dominated her mind, a whirl of voices and images. Should they start anew? Should they speak? They couldn’t communicate. They didn’t know how. Maybe the alcohol was affecting her thoughts.

“They are loyal. And none of their remarks were untrue.” Morpheus turned his face, allowing himself to gaze directly at her for the first time that night. His self-restraint surprised even him, as if something anchored him, helping him to do what he must to keep his promises. He had promised to receive her cupids. He would keep that promise. His eyes lowered to her lips as she finished her glass, catching him staring. They had played this game many times before, the warning glances that he would escort her back to her quarters if her drunken state became an issue, a warning to cease.

But this glance was different. She searched his eyes for any trace of silent fury but found none. They stood side by side, inches apart yet not touching. He looked at her differently than he had a thousand times before, with tenderness, as if unconcerned by her cupids’ attempts to flay him alive. It didn’t matter. He understood their protective instincts. The way he spoke suggested he couldn’t condemn them because he might have done the same. Yet he never had. He had never uttered a word against the rumors or the pitiful, repulsive looks, Love endured for centuries. Her face flushed hot with the memories, but his eyes seemed to acknowledge that and silently asked for forgiveness for all the times he hadn’t spoken.

“I am not drunk, if that is what you wish to be assured.” She broke their exchanged glances, emptying her glass, eyes lost in the dance. Pretending his gaze meant nothing but a warning was the safest course. He frowned. Of course she would think that. Most times, he scowled at her, condemning her improper behavior and loose tongue after too much drink. But not tonight.

“I know.” She turned to him as he moved closer, almost whispering, close enough for her to feel his warm breath against her skin. It sent shivers through her, more sensitive to him than she remembered. After their shared night, things felt different, like their bond allowed her to be vulnerable, craving more than she denied in the House of Mysteries. Like an appetite awakened, fighting for life against the pain in her heart and the decisions in her mind.

Perhaps she was the starved one, as Rosalind and Lysander suggested, not Morpheus.

“I know you are not drunk.” She furrowed her brows. His response wasn’t enough, and she needed to focus on something other than his soothing voice or the tingling in her fingers to trace the line of his neck. She needed to push those thoughts aside.

“Do you really? Pardon me if I don’t believe you.” All Morpheus’s expressions were subtle. To anyone who didn’t know him well, he seemed stoic most of the time. And it was true, he was. But every now and then, there were these subtle changes, like now, his lips curving in a shy smirk, his breath near her ear, the music loud enough to justify it, yet he was cautious, seeking permission to be close. “You are quiet. When you are drunk, even Delirium struggles to follow your thoughts, which race straight to your lips.” His eyes settled on her lips, pointing to them, and for a moment, Eoster imagined how his fingers might feel against them. “And nothing can silence you.” She turned to face him, inches apart. “You silenced me.” She was breathless, expending all her energy to recall her past, as if she were pressing a wound to remember the pain and avoid being hurt again.

He felt it. After that night, his bond with her also became more permissive. There was no hurt in her tone, no accusation, just a statement as true as the sunrise. But he sensed the pain behind it, how those memories cut like a knife.

“No, I didn’t. I would try to silence you, to reason with you, to lead you away, anything to prevent my siblings from having more ammunition. Someday, the anthropomorphic personifications will tire of hearing the same joke about “how she embarrassed him.” Now she wore a wry smile, slightly scrunching her face in disbelief. “And I didn’t?”

Why had they never spoken of it? Those dreadful dinners, those torturous gatherings, Desire’s comments, Despair’s false sympathy, fueled by her own sister-in-law’s misery, and Delirium’s honest but out-of-place observations. Dreadful.

“Embarrass me? For centuries, I thought you did. Your erratic behavior didn’t make it easy.” Eoster was about to question this, how she wasn’t the one making it difficult, but if he noticed, it didn’t deter him. “My time imprisoned made it clear: I wasn’t angry with you. I know what I said before, I know I blamed you, and it doesn’t matter anymore. But Love, I am truly sorry.” She closed her mouth.

Her husband was not seeking forgiveness, nor was he pleading for her belief. He wasn't relying on his regrets to evoke pity from her. Instead, he was confessing a truth he had never before been able to articulate, for they had never spoken thus until now. “The truth is,” he began, “I have shamed myself by failing to care for you properly, by driving you to seek solace in wine and night-blooming jasmine. I should never have put you in the position of bearing the shame of my infidelity. I should have been the one ashamed, for betraying your trust. Even if, at the time, I suspected you of colluding with Desire, it should have made no difference. We were bound in the covenant of True Marriage; it was my duty to safeguard you. You were not just my wife, but my queen.'"

In the midst of the regal splendor of the ballroom, Love found herself ensnared in a tumult of conflicting emotions. The revelation from Dream, delivered with a sincerity they had never shared before, stirred dormant romantic feelings within her. Despite his past transgressions, betrayals and neglect. She wanted to believe in his transformation, to open herself to loving him again, yet the scars of his past actions still haunted her as ghosts that followed her around. “You never claimed me as yours” she whispered, her voice a fragile thread amidst the elegant music and swirling dancers. Dream met her gaze with a mixture of longing and regret. “Maybe I should have,” he admitted softly, his eyes pleading for her understanding. Amidst the grandeur of the ballroom, amidst their intricate dance of emotions, the setting faded momentarily as Love, once again, stood at the precipice of a decision: whether to let her heart bloom anew, or to shield it from the shadows of past pain

"Eoster..." The soft utterance of Dream's voice broke through the enchanting tumult of the ballroom, his warm breath a gentle caress against her ear. The sound of her name on his lips sent a delicate shiver through her, and a solitary tear escaped, tracing a melancholy path down her cheek. In that fleeting moment, he could not fully fathom the depth of her inner turmoil, yet he sensed with poignant clarity that his role was simply to be present.

His hand rose gently, his touch tender as he brushed away the tear that glistened upon her cheek. Their fingers met, an electric current passing between them, a connection that resonated with unspoken emotions. As he leaned in closer, intending to convey his feelings, the weight of the scars of past wounds surged within her, overwhelming the burgeoning hope in her heart.

Eoster recoiled, her heart a tumult of longing and apprehension, her green eyes reflecting uncertainty. "Excuse me," she whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the music's melody. With graceful composure, she rose from her seat, her eyes lingering on his for a moment filled with unspoken sorrow, before she turned and wove her way through the crowd of cupids.

The revelry continued unabated, a stark contrast to the storm within her, as she ascended the stairs, seeking solace from the tempest of her heart. "My Lord?" Lucienne called softly, her voice tinged with deference as she attempted to capture Lord Morpheus's attention. His gaze, however, remained steadfastly fixed upon Lady Love's retreating form. In that moment, an urgency born from the brink of losing something that had seemed unattainable, yet had been within their grasp, led him to follow his queen.

Elijah, who had just managed to usher out the last of the cupids from their feet, joined Lucienne with a touch of impatience, anxiety and urgency exacerbated by such events. He observed with disapproval as Lord Morpheus nearly rushed through the ballroom, reaching the staircase where Lady Love had disappeared. "Where are they going? Dinner is about to be served," he queried with a touch of impatience, speaking as if Lucienne had any inkling of their king or queen's intentions. She was aware of the impending dinner, especially since Elijah had been preoccupied for weeks with china and cutlery. His brow furrowed in disapproval, silently remarking on the disruption of their carefully orchestrated evening.

Lucienne sighed inwardly, understanding Elijah's exasperation with the mercurial and unpredictable nature of their sovereigns.

"You will not be happy," she murmured softly, holding back another sigh. In over a millennium, she had never felt the need for a vacation. Now, if she could dream, she would dream of a long holiday away from Lord Morpheus, Lady Love, cupids, dreams, and nightmares. Just her and her library. She glanced sideways, meeting Elijah's gaze. For the first time, they shared the same thoughts.

-------------------

Morpheus ran up the stairs with urgency, his heart racing from the desperate need to rekindle the fleeting moment they had shared mere moments ago, his chance once again slipping through his fingers. Love's sudden withdrawal had startled him, her fear palpable in the way she had retreated. As he neared her, his footsteps echoing in the corridor, he slowed his pace, trying to approach with a calm demeanor.

Love didn't pause since leaving Morpheus at the reception. Her breath was rapid and erratic, as though any moment of stillness might plunge her into an ocean of tears she desperately wished to avoid. Ahead, she glimpsed the double doors to her quarters, a sight that brought relief at the prospect of solitude and perhaps a cup of night jasmine tea to calm her restless mind and grant respite from haunting dreams. She halted only when she heard familiar steps behind her, forcing herself to sound composed and unaffected.

Morpheus approached, coming to a halt a few steps away from Love. She stopped before the doors to her chambers. She could no longer bear the agony of loving him, only to be hurt by him time and again. These feelings weighed heavily on her heart. With a mixture of anguish and a desire to hurt him or provoke his anger, anything to shield herself from further pain, she uttered a shocking question, something they had never spoken of directly, but which, according to Lady Death, was a consensus among entities. "Did you ever consider that I might have had something to do with Orpheus's death?" Her voice trembled slightly, her eyes searching his face for a reaction, her heart both terrified of his answer and desperate for the truth.

Morpheus froze, the weight of Love's question hanging heavily between them. The mention of his son's name, uttered by her lips in such a context, struck him unexpectedly. He had grown accustomed to her using indirect references during their disputes, often labeling Orpheus as "bastard," a reminder of his own infidelity. "No," he replied coldly, his voice betraying the discomfort of the subject. Why was she bringing this up now?

"You have blamed me for so much else, why not for the loss of your child?" Love challenged, half expecting him to turn away. She anticipated his dismissal, his refusal to engage further in a conversation that dredged up painful accusations. Yet, was he in any position to silence her inquiries?

He had never suspected Love's involvement, not for a moment. Why? Even if it was because of his son’s misguided affections for the mortal girl that contributed to Orpheus's death, one thing Dream never doubted "You would never harm an innocent child," he affirmed, his response sincere. Love persisted, dissatisfied with his answer. "He died for love," she stated matter-of-factly, voicing the rumors that circulated. "Surely that raised suspicions in your mind? A son sacrificed for love, the same love you denied me."

"You would not punish a child for its parents' mistakes," Morpheus asserted firmly. Love shook her head in disbelief. Why wasn't he retaliating, condemning her accusations as baseless? Why wasn't he painting her as the monster he often perceived her to be, Desire's puppet disguised as a virtuous maiden? Why was he defending her against herself?

She shrugged, using his own logic against him. "No one wouldn't condemn me for it. Some might even consider it to be fair. My sisters have happier marriages with legitimate heirs, yet they discard their husbands' bastards without a second thought. Why would I act differently?"

"Why are you pressing this issue?" Morpheus sounded weary, but Love was relentless. She wanted him to confront her, to stoke her resentment once more.

" No, I want to know your theories. Why would I trick you into a True Marriage, endure your disrespect over every single principle that was sacred to me, disrespecting the carnal union of lovers, breeding me endlessly, disregarding my pleasure," Love's voice crescendoed in exasperation as she closed the distance between them. "And if it were solely to witness the birth of a child! Yet, it was all for your self-indulgence, your diversion! And worse, I had to endure witnessing your muse's pregnancy! Why wouldn't I wish ill upon your child?" Each word was a lament, a reminder of the trials Morpheus had subjected her to throughout their marriage. Speaking these truths felt like extinguishing the flames of her own affections, as if making him despise her anew would somehow ease her burden. Her voice carried a sharp and cutting like the edge of a blade forged from years of silent suffering. She wove her words with the delicate threads of her heart, torn between longing for his understanding and fearing the consequences of revealing her raw emotions once more.

"Stop!" Morpheus's voice rose sharply, halting her venomous tirade. It was the first time he had ever pleaded with her. "You may inflict any pain upon me, twist the knife as you will. But not this, I implore you."

Love observed his stoic facade crack slightly, a solitary tear escaping his eye. She concealed her surprise. She had expected him to retreat, wounded and defeated, to nurse his wounds elsewhere, perhaps to create nightmares or seek solace in another's arms. Instead, he whispered almost inaudibly, "You could have saved him. My distrust condemned him. He didn't believe the girl was behind him. I killed my own son." His gaze lifted from the floor, the pain she had glimpsed earlier now etched deeply into his features. "You could have saved him, Love. The trust that you long, that trust that you teach, could have. But even before my imprisonment, I dared not ask. You would have sacrificed even if it pained you, for it was a child's life, and you could not let a child suffer. You are my wife, dutiful and kind. What have I done to deserve your mercy, your forgiveness?"

Nothing.

He turned away, unaware of Love's stunned silence. She had always accused Morpheus of not truly knowing her, but did she truly know him? She had never imagined he would acknowledge his mistakes, let alone express remorse before his imprisonment. Despite her doubts, guilt lingered in his admission. "You could have asked for forgiveness," she offered tentatively, though she knew he could read her thoughts.

"I am trying, am I not?" Morpheus countered softly. "But what good has it done, other than add more pain to your heart, to our marriage?"

Our marriage.

This was new.

"Morpheus..." Love started, wanting to explain that her hesitation stemmed from fear, not pain. Fear of surrendering her heart only to have it shattered once more, fear of rejection or of him deciding she was no longer worthy of his love, fear of losing herself in her overwhelming love for him.

But the words caught in her throat.

@secretdreamlandmentality @littlemoistcarrot @lokigirlszendaya @notyourwildestdream @roxytheimmortal

[wholoveseggs]

Hey lovely, today request from me🥰

I got struck on an idea where reader tried to dominate Elijah but always fail so, she get Klaus help with some magical witchy rope or something to subdue him, which was successful.

Tho here's the thing, reader is inexperienced in doing something like that and not prepped enough to take him, cuz y'know Elijah is big.. hehehe😌🤭so she started tear up, and ask for his help. Elijah being a smug he is punish her happily after...can you added a sprinkle of daddy kink and overstimulation, pretty puh-lease with the cherry on top🙏🥺

Oh btw your story always superb 🤩 😁

Bindings

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

You ask Davina for help with creating something to tie up Elijah... only for you to get in way over your head. Luckily, he is in a forgiving mood.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon! I decided to change it from Klaus to Davina, because I just can't see Klaus being okay with you essentially making a weapon against his family... Even if the reason behind it is just for some kinky fun ♡♡

4.9k words - Warnings: smut, *magical* bondage, dom!elijah, daddy!kink, spanking, choking, sex toys and a whole lotta praise...

You sat in Davina's greenhouse, looking around at all the various plants and flowers the young witch had collected. You had asked Davina to meet up with you to help with a problem, one that was a bit awkward to even say out loud, but you knew that she of all people would understand.

You watched her browse through her books, trying to find the spell you had requested. After a few moments, Davina had found the page and started gathering the items needed.

"Davina?" you said.

She looked up from the table and gave you a curious look. "Yeah?"

"You don't think this is a little crazy? I mean, it's a bit of a long shot."

Davina smiled. "Not at all. I may have.... tried it myself... with Kol," she replied, looking away with a light blush.

Your eyes went wide. "Oh, my God. It worked?"

She shrugged trying to appear cool, but her mischievous grin gave away her answer. You smiled back and the two of you quickly dissolved into a fit of giggles.

After the laughter had calmed down, you looked at her questioningly. "So, how does it work?"

Davina took a seat on the couch next to you and showed you the spell she had found.

"The basic binding is actually quite simple, it's the ingredients that are tricky," she explained, "luckily I have white oak ash, and the rest should be easy to find."

You nodded and listened intently as Davina read through the list of ingredients and their uses. She began by grinding the herbs and mixing them in a bowl, followed by the white oak ash.

Once the mixture was complete, Davina took a long silk rope that you had provided and dipped it in the bowl. She held the rope above the bowl, letting the excess liquid drip off as she chanted the incantation.

"Done," Davina announced, handing you the now-dry rope. "It will keep him bound and unable to break free. You can use it any way you'd like." She grinned, giving you a knowing look.

You couldn't believe how easy it had been, that you were so close to fulfilling a long-held fantasy of yours. "Thank you, Davina. You're the best," you said, pulling her into a hug.

She hugged you back, giggling as she pulled away. "One more thing, if you need to break the spell, just say 'confractus' and it will untie itself,"

You nodded, thanking her again before making your way home, the rope clutched tightly in your hand.

It was the most expensive piece of clothing you had ever purchased. It wasn't even something you could wear outside your bedroom, but damn, did it make you feel sexy.

The lingerie was a red, sheer babydoll dress with black lace trim, and it was paired with a matching thong and stockings. You had never worn anything so revealing before, but you knew Elijah would like it, and that was all that mattered.

You wanted to get him all worked up, break down the gentleman facade, make him want you so badly that he would do whatever you asked. You had been waiting for the right moment to try the rope Davina had created, and you were certain that tonight was the night.

You pulled a robe over your outfit, concealing it until the right moment. Then you sat back on your bed and texted Elijah.

"Are you free tonight?"

A few moments later, your phone vibrated.

"For you, always."

You grinned and quickly replied, "Come over."

He sent a thumbs up, and you tossed your phone aside, your nerves kept you from sitting still, and you spent the next ten minutes pacing anxiously around the room. When you finally heard a knock on the door, you jumped, startled by the sound. You took a deep breath and walked to the front of your apartment.

When you opened the door, you were greeted by a sight that made your mouth water. Elijah was dressed casually, in just a t-shirt and jeans, it was a rare sight, and one that had you practically drooling.

You stood there in silence for a moment, taking in the sight of him, until he cleared his throat and asked, "Can I come in?"

"Yes, sorry. Come in." You stepped aside, gesturing for him to enter.

As soon as he crossed the threshold, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You let yourself melt into him, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around you.

"What's this for?" You asked, teasingly tugging on his t-shirt, your hands roaming across his broad chest. "Has your dry-cleaner gone and quit on you?"

He chuckled and shook his head. "I figured we would just have a quiet night in. No need for the formalities."

You nodded, your hands traveling down to his waist. You felt his body tense slightly when your fingers began to dance along the bare skin under the hem of his shirt.

"Well, I have a surprise for you," you said, looking up at him with a mischievous smile.

He raised an eyebrow and gave you a curious look. "A surprise? Well, now I'm intrigued."

You laughed and grabbed his hand, leading him to your bedroom. Once inside, you turned and faced him, taking a deep breath before you began to untie your robe. But then you stopped, looking at him with a naughty smirk.

"Take off your shirt," you ordered, your voice suddenly more confident.

He looked surprised by your words, but quickly obliged, pulling the t-shirt over his head and tossing it aside.

"Hmmm," you smiled as your eyes traveled down his body, appreciating his toned abs and muscular arms, lingering on where a trail of dark hair disappeared into his jeans. "Now the pants."

You watched as his hands moved to unbutton his jeans. He kept his gaze locked on you, his dark eyes filled with lust. Once the pants were undone, he slowly pushed them down, revealing his black boxer briefs and the outline of his half-hard cock.

Your mouth watered at the sight, but you knew this was just the beginning. As much as you wanted to rip his clothes off and fuck him senseless, you had a plan, and you were determined to stick to it.

"Get on the bed," you commanded, gesturing to the large mattress behind him.

He climbed onto the bed, sitting back against the pillows and watching you with curiosity. You untied the belt of your robe and let it fall open, revealing the sheer lingerie underneath.

Elijah's jaw dropped, his eyes widening as they traveled over your body.

"Do you like it?" You asked, teasingly running a finger along the edge of the lace trim.

He nodded, unable to speak, his cock already fully hard and straining against his underwear.

"Good, because I want you to do something for me," you said, your voice low and husky.

He nodded again, his gaze fixed on you.

"Take off your underwear and stroke your cock."

You watched him pull his boxer briefs down and wrap his large hand around his thick shaft, slowly stroking himself.

The sight of him pleasuring himself made your own arousal grow. You let your robe drop to the floor and climbed onto the bed, straddling his thighs.

He groaned, his eyes never leaving your body as he continued stroking his cock.

"Darling, you are a vision," he breathed, his voice deep and raspy with desire.

You felt heat pooling between your legs, your nipples hardening beneath the thin fabric of your lingerie.

You leaned in and kissed him, your tongues battling for dominance as you moaned into his mouth. His other hand came up to grab your ass, pulling you closer.

He was breathing heavily, his eyes dark with lust.

"Touch yourself," he growled, his lips brushing against yours.

"No," you smirked, "I have something else in mind."

You reached over and picked up the rope, which you had placed within reach on the nightstand. You watched his eyes widen, his hand stopping its movements as he stared at the rope.

"Do you want me to tie you up?" He grinned, his hand starting to stroke his cock again.

"I have something else in mind," you repeated.

Elijah raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued.

"Hands up," you commanded, leaning back slightly to give him space.

He paused for a moment before lifting his arms above his head, resting them on the pillow behind him.

You brought the rope over his wrists, looping it around and tying them together. He chuckled, his eyes darkening as he realized what you were doing.

"I never took you for a bondage girl, darling."

"There's a lot of things you don't know about me," you replied, your tone playful as you pulled the rope tighter.

"Unfortunately I don't think this silk rope will hold me," he said, smirking as he tugged at the restraints.

You ignored him, continuing to tie his wrists to the headboard. Once you were satisfied with the knots, you sat back and admired your work, enjoying the way he looked helpless and at your mercy.

"Oh yeah?" You questioned, trailing a finger down his chest and abs, watching him shiver.

You slowly shrugged off one of the straps of your babydoll, letting the top slide down, exposing one breast.

His eyes fixated on your bare chest, his tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Mmmm," you hummed, rolling the hard bud between your fingers, teasing him. Then you did the same with the other strap, pushing the top down until your breasts were completely exposed.

Elijah let out a low moan, his cock twitching against his stomach.

"God, you're so fucking beautiful," he growled, his eyes burning with desire.

"Do you want to touch them daddy?" You cooed, running your hands up and down your breasts.

"Yes," he hissed, his hips bucking up involuntarily.

"Go ahead, tear the rope and touch me."

"Gladly."

He tugged at the rope, once, twice, three times. It didn't budge, much to his surprise.

"How the..." he started to say, looking up at the knotted rope.

"It's just a bit of magic," you smirked, your confidence growing as you watched him struggle.

You knew the ropes wouldn't hold him forever, but you planned on making the most of the time they did.

"Now, where were we?" You leaned forward, bringing your breasts close to his face.

He craned his neck up, trying to capture one of your nipples with his mouth, but you pulled away, denying him.

"Uh uh," you scolded, "You can look, but no touching."

You moved forward again, brushing your breast against his lips. He eagerly opened his mouth, trying to suck on the hardened peak, but you kept it just out of reach.

"I will be free soon enough, little one," he growled, his eyes locking onto yours, "and when I am, you're going to be punished for teasing me."

His words sent a thrill through you, but you remained calm, refusing to show him any signs of weakness.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do, daddy?" You asked, taunting him as you rolled your hips, your wetness coating his skin.

He groaned at the sensation, his dark, lust-filled eyes watched as you began to touch his body, teasing and tormenting him.

You raked your nails down his chest and abs, earning a hiss of pleasure. You licked a hot stripe up his neck, biting his earlobe before moving to his lips. You kissed him roughly, your teeth grazing his lower lip, and he moaned, deepening the kiss.

Your hand went to his cock, stroking it slowly as he tried to buck his hips into your touch. You pulled back, smirking at him.

"You're not going to come until I say you can, understood?"

"Yes, my dear," he breathed, his eyes closing in pleasure as you tightened your grip on his shaft.

"Good boy."

You kissed him again, your tongues dancing together as you pumped his cock. He moaned into your mouth, his hips thrusting upwards, desperate for release.

You broke the kiss, looking down at him with a smirk. You couldn't wait any longer, you had to have him.

You positioned yourself over his throbbing member, lining him up with your entrance. You felt a flash of nervousness, not knowing how well you would be able to take him, but the excitement overrode the anxiety.

You lowered yourself down slowly, his thick cock stretching you open, filling you inch by inch.

"Fuck, Elijah," you moaned, burying your face into the crook of his neck, the feeling of him buried so deep, making your legs shake.

He hummed, his biceps straining against the rope as he struggled to break free. You placed your hands on his chest, using him as leverage as you began to ride him.

You knew right away that you were in trouble. Usually Elijah would take the lead, getting you all wet and worked up, he always took his time, and the pleasure he brought was slow and delicious.

But this, being on top and having all the control, was something you hadn't experienced before. It was intense, and you weren't sure if you could handle it.

Your thighs were burning as you lifted yourself up and down, but you were determined to keep going. Your eyes met his and the sight of his pupils blown wide with desire was enough encouragement for you to continue.

You rode him faster, your breath coming in short gasps. You were getting close, so close, but it was somehow all too much and not enough. You didn't think it would be this much work, and you could feel your energy waning.

It was a terrible feeling, finally getting what you wanted and being disappointed by it. You had been so confident, but now your thighs were burning and you were struggling to keep up a steady rhythm.

You looked at the ropes, seeing that they were still secure. There was no way you would be able to finish this yourself. You were going to need help.

"Eli," you whimpered, your nails digging into his chest.

"Yes, my dear," he groaned.

"I-I'm not sure... If I can keep going," you admitted, panting as you struggled to continue, a frustrated tear rolling down your cheek.

"Well, I'm still quite enjoying myself. You look absolutely exquisite like this," he teased, his eyes roaming your body.

"Elijah," you whined, "please. I-I can't."

He gave you a knowing smirk. "If you can't keep up, maybe I should be the one in charge."

"Please," you begged, your face flushing as the humiliation of being denied what you wanted so badly washed over you.

"You created this problem for yourself, little one," he reminded, "but luckily, I'm in a giving mood."

You nodded, grateful that he was willing to help you, even if he did enjoy teasing you about it. You reached up and undid the knots, releasing his hands from their restraints.

As soon as his hands were free, Elijah gripped your hips, flipping you over so he was on top. You yelped in surprise, the sudden change in position leaving you breathless.

"You are such a good girl," he praised, his voice husky with desire. "So eager to please."

He kissed you hungrily, his hands exploring your body, his fingers tugging at the hem of your lingerie.

"And this," he murmured against your lips, "is very pretty. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to tear it."

Before you could protest, he ripped the babydoll in half, exposing your entire body to him. He tossed the torn fabric aside, his dark eyes roaming your naked form.

"But it was expensive," you half-protested, even though you were throbbing at the gesture of dominance and disregard.

He growled and pinched your nipple, earning a sharp gasp, then he soothed it with a swirl of his tongue, a wicked glint in his eyes.

"How much did that little magical rope cost you?"

You shuddered, already realizing this was the price you had to pay. You knew he would punish you for this stunt and it turned you on more.

"N-nothing, it was a favor from a friend," you muttered.

He didn't like the vagueness of your answer and took the rope and tied it around your wrists as he started kissing you again, your tongue clashing with his, while his large hand roamed your body, tweaking your nipples, earning a soft moan, and then traveling down south, running his fingertips along your skin, teasing and tickling you softly.

"You are going to do exactly as I say now, understood?" he mumbled against your skin.

"Y-Yes, Daddy," you whined, already desperately bucking against his hand.

Elijah released you, flipping you onto your stomach and dragging you to the head of the bed, tying the rope to the headboard so your arms are stretched high over your head. You were on your knees, and completely under his power.

You heard him rummaging around in his dresser and your heart began beating quickly from nervousness and excitement.

He kissed the back of your neck, the heat of his body warming you, and causing goosebumps to cover your skin. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you and you instinctively arched into his embrace.

"My sweet pet, are you ready to be punished?" he asked as he held one of his ties in front of your face, "Do you have a safe word?"

Your mind raced as he put the tie over your eyes. You quickly selected a word, just in case you needed it, though you sincerely doubted that would happen. Even when he was dominant like this, he always put your pleasure first, but you wanted him to believe you were scared.

"Coffee."

"Excellent," he replied as the smooth fabric was tied tightly around your head.

You tried to lean forward but couldn't move an inch with the rope around your wrists. This rope has successfully restrained Elijah, there was no way you were getting free until he cut you loose.

"I must say… that magic rope is quite a dangerous weapon, a threat to my family." He whispered against your ear, a hint of danger in his voice, sending an excited tingle through you.

You suddenly felt his strong hand wrap tightly around your neck. He wasn't squeezing yet but he was definitely letting you know who's in charge.

"You and I both know how I handle threats to my family," he said, pressing a kiss against your neck.

A moan escaped your lips and you could hear him chuckle. You were so wound up, you weren't sure how long you could take this.

"Stay quiet," Elijah commanded.

As if in punishment, he withdrew his hand from your throat, and you almost immediately missed the feeling of his warm hand against you. A sudden slap to your ass made your body jolt.

It burned from the force of it, his large, powerful palm practically covering your entire cheek. Every sensation was heightened by the tie around your eyes and you felt your whole body heating up, your blood rushing in anticipation of what was to come.

He hit you again, on the same cheek, harder than the last time. The sound of his hand hitting your flesh seemed to fill the room. Tears pooled in your covered eyes, the burning sensation making your body hum in pleasure, mixed with a bit of pain.

You weren't sure if you could handle one more of his heavy-handed swats. Your arms hurt from being pulled high above your head, and your wrists were already chafing.

You heard him reach into your night stand, searching for something that would bring you a different kind of pain. He found what he was looking for, trailing it down your spine. It was cold and smooth, and it made your stomach drop when you realized what it was.

"Eli- wait," you protested, none of this night was going to plan, but this? You had fantasized about it, sure, but this was-

Your mind went blank when he pushed it inside you, and without mercy, he switched it on. It buzzed to life and the sudden onslaught of the vibrations made your legs shake uncontrollably, your wrists burning slightly as you pulled on them.

It was like you were filled with electricity. And the noises you were making? They were a mix of moans and pleas for release, your body already nearing its limit.

His hand was gone, no more spanking and yet- the buzzing didn't stop, you had no release in sight and that's when you realized your mistake. He wasn't going to let you finish, the intention to drive you near your peak only to take you back down.

It was torture.

And you were absolutely loving it.

The minutes seem to tick by, maybe hours. Who knows anymore. All you're aware of is your trembling thighs, sweat glistening your back and your voice, cracking slightly as you scream and moan, writhing at the touch of his hand, then the hard buzzing once again.

"Hmm, we've never tried this setting before," he mused.

"Please Eli-"

He increased the intensity, a loud buzz echoing the room, and a series of vulgar curses escaping your lips, making him laugh.

The vibrator inside you was now pulsing at a rapid pace, the pleasure blinding, building, and there's nothing you can do to prevent the inevitable.

"Don't you dare come," he ordered.

"I can't-" you began, already starting to crumble under his control.

He gave the end of the vibrator a small twist and it hit a new spot that was pure euphoria. You tried to hold on, but it was impossible, your vision went white as an orgasm rocked through you, stealing your breath away, and all of the pent up tension that was burning in the depths of your core.

You let out an ecstasy-laced scream, every fiber in you igniting, every nerve firing at once as an immense surge of pleasure washed through your trembling body, shaking you to the core.

In that moment there was only bliss. The kind of sweet bliss that washes over your exhausted form, turning your limbs to rubber and melting your insides.

Your wrists ached, and you expected Elijah to untie you, but he had gone perfectly still behind you. Your heart began to race, suddenly filled with worry about whether he had become angered by your release. You honestly couldn't undergo another round of his erotic torture and live through it.

The silence and inaction was far worse than any punishment and you felt fear creep up your neck. Suddenly the vibrator turned back on at the max setting and his hand came down hard on your ass once again, leaving it stinging and burning, and tears brimming your lids, even as your body reacted with arousal.

You weren't even sure if your wrists could survive another round and it didn't help that the orgasm had made you sensitive to the point of numbness, but you can already feel your legs shaking, threatening to buckle underneath your exhausted form.

"Daddy, please I can't. I'll pass-" you started, the warning cut off with another slap.

You couldn't do it anymore, your wrists hurt more than the spanking. You remembered Davina had said that the rope could be undone with one word from you. Just as another spank was about to rain down, you rasped out 'confractus' and the rope fell off your wrists. You didn't waste a second, the moment you felt your hands free, you were tugging the blindfold down and pulling the vibrator out of you, tossing it across the bed and collapsing.

Elijah looked a bit shocked by your sudden escape, but that didn't stop him. With you no longer held in the bindings, he took it as another reason to keep punishing you and he grabbed your hips and pulled you underneath him.

His eyes were hard and wild, almost black, and his lips were curled up in a delicious smirk as he locked eyes with yours. The blindfold was held tight against your neck with one hand, keeping the pressure just enough to cause slight discomfort.

But then his eyes flicked to your wrists and the damage that had been done. The burns were deep, almost red and his demeanor changed instantly. His expression went soft, filled with remorse, but his dark, lust-filled eyes didn't change, still heated and primal, and needing release.

"I sometimes forget how delicate you are," he said softly, taking one of your wrists into his hand and giving a gentle kiss.

You flinched a little from the sting of it, watching his apology fill his eyes. You knew his guilt and self loathing was about to start, but before he could pull away, you reached up and grabbed the back of his neck and smashed your lips against his.

"I love when you get like this Eli," you admitted as the kiss broke, "Punishing me, fucking me, owning me. So don't start beating yourself up."

His response was an immediate hot sigh against your lips, relieved that he didn't hurt you.

"You do like the attention, do you?" he teased lightly, nuzzling your nose.

You nod, giving another kiss to the tip of his nose. "Always, but can you make this punishment worth it? It better end in a long, hot shower together or I might pass out," you whispered with a cheeky smile.

His shoulders shook from a silent laugh and his arms moved to either side of your face, caging you in with his warm presence, and you couldn't help the blush that spread through your cheeks as the emotion on his face flickered between the self-hating Elijah to the sweet one that you were in love with.

He ran his hand down your leg, then he lifted your thigh and held it against his hip and slowly, gently eased himself inside you. His lips were inches from and you couldn't look away. His eyes had softened now, and your heart melted at the devotion in them, only meant for you.

He slid his hand to the back of your neck as you clung to his shoulder, meeting him thrust for thrust as the pace gradually quickened. Your toes curled as waves of pleasure washed over you, but you held on this time, waiting for his permission, wanting to find release together.

His lips caressed your neck, his breathing ragged, and his movements became more erratic as his own control began to slip. The low, animalistic sounds rumbling in his chest nearly set you off, but somehow you managed to hang on.

Your mind is a fog, filled with everything Elijah; his smell, his warmth, the feeling of his skin against yours, the sound of his heavy breath, his low voice in your ear, his hips moving in a perfect tempo. It was overwhelming, dizzying, and intoxicating. You weren't sure how much longer you could hold out, especially with the way he was whispering your name like a prayer.

Your legs began to tremble again, Elijah knew you were close, and you were being so good for him. He could see the effort your restraint required in the furrow of your brow and the desperation in your eyes, he saw it in the twitching of your fingers and he felt the small spams from the place the two of you are joined.

"You've been such a good girl, come for me sweetheart," he cooed, nipping at your ear.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back. It felt like the earth beneath you cracked open and molten pleasure coursed through your veins, pouring into every cell and nerve, bathing you in absolute bliss.

Elijah kept rocking, dragging out your orgasm and making his own release finally explode throughout every part of him. As the both of you shook from pleasure, he didn't stop kissing you, kissing your cheeks, neck, and nose as the both of you tried to calm down. You clung to his biceps, relishing his touch, trying to calm down your raging heartbeat.

He released you and flipped onto his back, tugging you along, and making sure that you stayed close. You cuddled into his side, giving his chest small, gentle kisses.

He took your wrist, seeing the faint redness where the rope had burned your skin and gave it another tender kiss.

"Don't tell Klaus about the rope, he would not be very pleased to know you and Davina are making weapons behind his back, love."

You snorted and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, "how did you know it was Davina?"

He chuckled and rested his chin on the top of your head.

"Call it an educated guess," he teased and his hand playfully smacked your butt.

You both gave out a little chuckle before falling back into a comfortable silence. Your body had officially given out on you and exhaustion had taken over your form.

Elijah lifted you up out of bed and brought you to the shower, making sure that you were clean of any sticky sweat or traces of what had gone down moments ago. He wrapped his strong arms around you once you were dressed and both cleaned, bringing the covers around both of your bodies before kissing your forehead, and drifting off to sleep, holding you possessively against him.

This night didn't go as you planned, but you did not regret a thing.

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I've gotten a few dm's about my tags not working (yay) so let me know if its still a problem, I just re-tagged all of you so hopefully that solved it ♡

(It may be the hearts causing the issue but I don't want that to be true, so I am in denial)

[caffeinatedattorney]

Okay so there are two tapes in game where Harvey speaks.

The first tape Harvey appears in is (#10) where Harleen and Harvey appear. She complains to him about Crane's experiments, implying Harvey's partly responsible for his presence there? and that Harvey trusts him. Apparently Crane is there to help Harvey in court and evaluate inmates. He says it's a necessary evil and he tells her to kick rocks.

The second one, tape #13, is interesting. It's found in the ship where you find out Harvey is the rat king near the console. The tape starts with Harvey asking Crane for help. But then...

HARVEY: I just... I-I lost it. You shoulda seen the police photos. This bastard didn't just beat his kid, he starved him! Kept him locked in a closet for six months. Eight years old, fighting with this- with the rats over scraps of food. When the cops finally freed him, his kidneys had failed and his heart was scarred by infection.

Foreshadowing. And guess this confirms for me that Harvey becomes retraumatized by his job and knows it but won't quit.

CRANE: My goodness. Harrowing stuff.

HARVEY: And his dad has the nerve to take the stand and tell the court his kid deserved it? Piece of shit's lucky I only took a couple of swings at him. Besides, I might've just torched my whole career.

CRANE: Oh, I doubt that. You're a hero in the papers. "Two-Fisted DA Decks Deadbeat Dad." The public's behind you on this.

HARVEY: My own dad's to blame for my short fuse. But I can't lose my temper like that again.

CRANE: Your father? I'd like to hear more about him.

So Harvey had been having issues waaay before Batman was in the picture? (Also Harvey sounds so sinister saying "Piece of shit's lucky I only took a couple of swings at him." Love Troy Baker's performance and how Elijah Wood gives this impression that he's just letting Harvey talk to examine him like another one of his tests subjects-- i mean patients.)

And it's BTAA scarecrow and Harvey again, but Bruce isn't there to help

HARVEY: You really think this stuff will help?

CRANE: Early trials are quite promising. Now, hold this, hold it- There you go. And take three deep breaths. Good.

HARVEY: *Inhales loudly*

CRANE: I want you to consider that your recent outbursts may be stress -induced. Building a case agaisnt Carmine Falcone clearly had you burning the candle at both ends.

HARVEY: Well, tell that to the press. All i hear about is how "the batman brought down the Roman Empire." We worked together, y'know. Me, him, Gordon, too. [laughs] Ah, I'm starting to lose my cool again.

Harvey's voice is way way lower. Okay, Harvey is mad about someone else taking credit. Guess that explains his reaction to seeing batman again. More ppl taking advantage of him.

CRANE: No, no-no-no, that's good. Good. We've already touched on how much you've been repressing. Themore you try to contain your shadow, the more that aspect of your psyche starnates and festers. We need to bring it to the light.

HARVEY: [almost a whisper?] Drag if out of the darkness? That's what I've been trying to do with this whole city. Too many trials. Too many appeals. Better let fate judge. Fifty-fifty, like flippin' a coin. Better odds than my old man gave me.

HARVEY: No, it's um, getting worse. The headaches mostly.

CRANE: That's only a function of your conscious mind giving way to your shadow self. As it rises to the surface, your awareness becomes fuzzy in a neurological sense as you grapple with the--

HARVEY: [as a whisper? / hiss?] That's not it. It's never been this bad. Gilda is scared. And I am too.

OKAY so, Gilda must have left at some point because Crane is making him worse. He already believes in the coin. This Crane is so interesting thinking talk therapy is universally effective with dissociation and trauma. He seems to genuinely believe in what he's doing.

CRANE: you fear becoming your father. You fear you'll assume his worst traits as you get older.Please: sit. Have a sip of water. Good, good, good. Listen thins always feel more intense just before the real healing begins. You are making remarkable progress.

HARVEY: We.

CRANE: Hm?

HARVEY: 'We' are making remarkable progress

CRANE: Of course, Mr. Dent. This is good for both of us.

So, safe to say, Crane caused this lmao.

Also, In the tape between Arnold and Harley (#3), Arnold has the same symptoms as Harvey but he doesn't seem to have the puppet yet until she encourages her to do so? so unless i'm missing something, it kinda seems like Crane's treatment is the one causing DID like symptoms.

Okay, I heard the tape between Joe and Thompkins (tape #8) and it seems everyone gets headaches so it's not DID per se. (also Leslie used to have a free clinic in park row and a crisis center for kids. idk if at the same time or the same place, tho)

LESLIE: Any other complaints?

JOE: Just some reactions to Dr. Crane's treatment. Headaches. Can't remember some stuff.

Okay, next part.

HARVEY: Doctor, I wanna stop the treatments.

CRANE: But why?

HARVEY: Why? What the hell happened to your lab rat this morning?

CRANE: it's the unfortunate reality of medical testing that on occasion we have to put an animal through a measure of discomfort in order to-

HARVEY: The shit you got me breathing melted its fur off! Melted its skin.

CRANE: Mr Dent, the individual chemicals in this solution are heavily corrosive but, when properly diluted they are intert and stable.

HARVEY: Inert and stable? I-I-I don't know-

CRANE: Harvey, Harvey. I've been reviewing our recorded sessions and i'm confident you're on the cusp of a major breakthrough. Trust the process. If not for yourself, then do it for Gilda. Doesn't she deserve a healthier, happier husband?

HARVEY: [basically a growl] Crane, if my symptoms don't resolve soon, I'm out.

CRANE: I understood. You're making the right choice. I'll prepare the dose.

This is insane. There's... so much here. Crane manipulates Harvey into using the treatment bc Harvey loves Gilda so much. Harvey was aware of what that thing could do (adding humiliation to having his own face burnt off by some malone?) This must have implanted the idea in his head about being a lab rat and staying one forever bc of his self doubt and letting it get this far.

I wonder if Crane's treatment actually fucked him up the way something like, idk, joker gas would, rather than that darkness coming solely from Harvey? but then again, Harvey beat up a man in court in front of everyone so it wasn't that big of a step.

TLDR; Everything is kinda Crane's fault.