#man if camy could just have just one CLEAN w

[uldren-sov]

finished chapter 3 and just

EVERYTHING IS FINE

everything is JUST FINE

[spartanguard]

untitled monster loving fic (1/?)

Summary: A mysterious event ten years ago left a number of people in Boston with unusual abilities and physical attributes...whether they like them or not. Killian Jones is one of them; so is Emma Swan. Are these things curses, or blessings? Will finding each other help them decide?

rated (eventual) M | 2.4k | AO3 coming at some point

A/N: So full credit for this idea goes to @thesschesthair and her ramblings on The Deep while watching The Boys. And since it’s spooky season, and monster f***ing is a thing, ideas started spinning and....this happened. I’m not sure where exactly it’s gonna go and ngl, I definitely borrowed a plot point from Static Shock, but...it’s here. (And there will eventually be some monster loving for real.)

The door rattled in the frame as Killian Jones slammed it shut; frankly, he was surprised he hadn’t shattered it, flimsy as it was. He’d probably do it yet one of these days, but not tonight—not when he was already making a beeline for the bathroom. He needed to get out of these stifling clothes once and for all.

Granted, all clothes did that to him, so this wasn’t a new occurrence, or born of any particular stress or lengthy day. He supposed he should be used to it after all these years, but not yet. 

He tossed his jacket...somewhere, probably the sagging sofa, on his way across the flat, and kicked his shoes off equally haphazardly. There was no door for him to open to get into the restroom, and muscle memory told him where the switch was, filling the tiny space with dingy light. Only three of the four sockets above the vanity worked, and he’d been meaning to replace another burnt out bulb for...well, months. But less light meant it was harder to see the cracks in the ancient tile.

The one nice thing—the only nice thing—about this place was the tub; he probably could have afforded a slightly (very slightly) nicer apartment, but they only had stall showers, and he needed the tub. The squeaky knobs and the thud in the pipes as hot water poured out the faucet were familiar sounds. 

He almost forgot to put the stopper in the drain, but managed to get it in there before losing too much; hot water was a precious commodity, considering the water heater was older than him. He wiped his hand dry on his threadbare jeans, wondering in passing why he bothered, but forgetting it.

Like he did every night, he took stock of himself in the age-spotted mirror. He supposed he was still what would be considered attractive, even if he mostly kept to himself nowadays. Dark hair, blue eyes, a bit of stubble; lean, muscular frame. The front he gave the world still looked like the man Milah fell in love with, before...everything. The shadows under his eyes and the weight of painful memories resting on his shoulders were more recent acquisitions, though.

His tshirt was mostly clean and in decent shape; like most of his clothes, he bought it second hand and it was a couple sizes too big. It had to be. He couldn’t stand the feel of anything touching his upper body—but at the same time, couldn’t be bare. Wouldn’t dare.

He wanted to tear it off, but first had to work off the mechanism that held his prosthetic left hand on. His fingers methodically knew what to do, even if the bit of webbing between them hindered his dexterity to some extent. Once it was off, he carefully set it on the counter—the only possession of his he treated with any sort of care—and then reached for the hem of his shirt and tugged it up over his head.

For the first time all day, he found relief, and was able to take a deep breath. He closed his eyes at the sensation of finally breathing freely—partly to revel in it, and partly to avoid looking in the mirror. But then another breath made him twinge, recalling the hit he took to his side while working on the docks earlier, and he had to inspect it. 

Sure enough, there was a bruise—right on top of one of his gills. 

No wonder it stung when he breathed.

God, but he hated to look at them—they perhaps weren’t as monstrous as they were right after the accident, but they were far from pretty. Deep slits arced on either side of his abdomen, the longest one sitting just above his waist and running parallel to his rib cage; subsequently smaller ones followed up his sides, ending just below his pecs. There were times he laughed at how well they framed his body hair, but those were few and far between. Scar tissue surrounded them from where the skin had healed when it first split, and he could feel the stiff skin move with every breath. It...fluttered, almost, rippling along with his muscles and lungs. 

He shuddered at the sight and turned away, continuing to strip until he was naked. The tub was full, so he shut off the flow and stepped in. He sighed again as he sank down into the warm water; it was a balm on his aching muscles. He sometimes wondered if that was another side effect—after the accident, after everything, they’d gotten a lot denser, it seemed, and he was certainly stronger, his muscles more defined. But it also meant that he was always tired, always sore, always in some sort of pain, and he only knew of two ways to deal with it. He didn’t have the cash for rum right now, so a hot bath would have to do.

Unnecessarily, he took another deep breath, and slipped below the surface of the water. His lungs quickly adapted to the change, and he was hyper aware of the constant movement coming from his gills as they worked. He exhaled and started to breathe normally—at least, as normally as was possible underwater.

He couldn’t drown, but maybe his demons could, just for a bit.

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

Emma Swan would never understand why the landlord kept locking the door to the roof; she’d just pick it again later. Besides, she was the only one that ever went up there, and unless the dude wanted to install a camera and evict her, she’d keep going. 

She had planned on taking a long, hot bath when she got home, but some asshole had used up all the hot water. It was probably just as well; she kind of didn’t feel like dealing with the inevitable mess. That’s why she had her dollar-store spray bottle, right?

It had been dumb of her not to bring it up here, though; she could already feel the itch forming between her shoulder blades, making her shift uncomfortably beneath her leather jacket. It was definitely time to get that off. (The July heat certainly didn’t help in that regard, but she could bear the discomfort; she could stand that easier than the alternative.)

She easily slipped off the red leather and let it fall on the cracked concrete of the roof, leaving her in a well-worn long-sleeved tee; it was the only way to make sure that puting the jacket on was as easy as taking it off. Plus, an extra layer helped keep things under wraps. Just one of the many things she’d learned about her situation in the last 10 years. 

(“Situation” seemed like the best term for it. Someone might call it a blessing; some might prefer curse. Honestly, it was more of an annoyance, so she figured it was best to use as neutral a term as possible.)

This was the part she both loved and hated: taking off her shirt. She knew it’d feel good to remove it, but it always hurt in motion. Oh well—like ripping off a bandaid. Quickly, trying to ignore the thousands of pricking and tugging points across her back and arms, she pulled it up over her head and let it fall on top of her jacket.

Now down to just a cami, she rolled her shoulders back and flapped her arms a few times. Yeah, flapped; what else was she supposed to call it when they were covered in feathers?

The biggest ones extended from her triceps and forearms, with smaller ones covering her skin from shoulder to wrist and between her shoulder blades. The tiniest ones blended in with her natural peach fuzz; the rest varied in size from a few inches to a couple feet and layered on top of each other like...well, like a bird’s wing.

She had wings, okay? But not like the kind you’d see on an angel in a Christmas pageant—freaking swan wings where she’d once had normal human arms. Even her hands vaguely resembled talons, but thankfully, it was easy to pass off her thick, dark nails as a really good gel manicure.

A few feathers drifted to the ground as she stretched, and she stared at them in annoyance, trying to determine if they were indicative of an oncoming molt or just incidental. She was incredibly close to catching a high-paying skip; she didn’t have time to be laid out with a molt for a week.

(Those were the weeks she did label it a curse. Last year, it had overlapped with her period. To make a long story short, she was now banned from ordering at the pizza place down the street due to some things she may have said to the teenaged delivery driver.)

She shook her arms again, watching in disdain as a few more feathers came loose, confirming her fears; damn. She did not need this right now. 

A breeze blew in from the harbor, ruffling her feathers. Some foreign bird instinct leaned into it, holding her arms out behind her to brace against it. For a minute, she let herself forget about everything—her finances, her schedule, her ever-present loneliness, the constant weight of whatever this was—and let her feathers float on the wind like they were meant to.

Fuck it. She needed to fly. 

Quickly, she undid her ponytail and threw her hair back up in a messy bun as she took long strides to the edge of the roof. There, she unlodged a loose brick, revealing a small hidden compartment below containing a white mask. It wasn’t anything fancy—the kind you could get from a party store any time of the year—but it did the job, so she slipped it on. It was best to hide your identity when you were one of the local cryptids, she figured.

(Maybe, one of these days, she’d meet another one; she somehow hadn’t in 10 years, but they had to be out there. They had to.)

Without any further hesitation, she stepped up onto the ledge, spread her arms wide, and jumped.

There was always a bit of fear that it wouldn’t work this time, that the pavement would meet her hollow bones and crush them—but then she caught an updraft and rode it up over the next building.

For at least a few hours, she could pretend to get away from everything, before the inevitable weight of her baggage brought her back down to the ground.

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

Ten years prior

The explosion came from nowhere. Not that most explosions ever gave warning, and if it was going to happen anywhere, a seemingly abandoned waterfront warehouse was as likely a place as any.

The official report said it was a gas explosion; that was true enough. 

Two fatalities were listed: the building owner, one Mr. Gold, who was inside when the blast hit; and his wife, Milah, who was just outside.

[She’d asked Killian to meet her there—he didn’t fully know why, but she’d asked, and he was at her beck and call. He didn’t care that she was married; he loved her, and she loved him.

She was scared; it was visible in her darting eyes and hunched-over position. But she immediately relaxed when he rounded the corner of the building and ran to him, immediately wrapping her arms around him.

Frantically, she started to say something about her husband—that he was inside, she was worried about him and her son, and she wanted to go somewhere—anywhere—when suddenly there was a deafening sound, a wall of heat, an acrid stench, and Killian was in the water, fire at the end of his left arm and in his lungs and Milah—where was she?

It took far too long to break the surface of the harbor, only to be greeted by a scene from a war film—and the undoubtable form of Milah’s lifeless body, under smoldering debris where the building had once stood.]

The number of casualties was unknown; only one person went to the hospital, due to losing their hand in the explosion. 

There were more people in the area, within the radius of the damage, but most fled as quickly as they could.

[Emma still wasn’t sure why Neal had wanted to wander down by the docks; most of his deals went down in other parts of town, but she didn’t think too hard on the change of venue. The salty brine of the ocean was and oddly refreshing scent, compared to the typical smog and gas of the parts of the city they usually haunted.

It was kind of romantic; they were walking hand in hand, snacking on the Pop-Tarts they’d just nabbed from the corner store. She’d had a pretty intense craving for them lately and he’d been all too happy to oblige.

They took a turn down what looked like a row of warehouses in varying amounts of use; he seemed to know where he was going so she followed, taking note when he was starting to slow. She was about to ask what they were doing, but then a deafening roar screamed from the building across the street, immediately drowning them in dust and debris, and something that smelled like gas, but also not?

It didn’t matter; they needed to get out of there. They immediately sprinted off in the direction they came, not stopping until they were sufficiently out of breath. They didn’t dare linger in case the police wanted to talk to them. No thanks.

But, ugh, she’d dropped her Pop-Tart.] 

The smell of the gas lingered—though it was only labeled as such because none of the experts could place it. It was more than natural gas, more of a chemical note to it—but it didn’t match any other known chemicals. Gas was easier to explain, so that’s what they went with.

Besides, that was the only thing that got hot enough to completely disintegrate human remains; what other reason was there to explain why they couldn’t find Mr. Gold’s body among the melted, charred remnants of the building?

The site was razed, but never rebuilt. But urban legend quickly grew to talk of a mysterious figure rising out of the shadows there, said to be his ghost.

(Or possibly something worse.)

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

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[magicalgirlfumiko]

Just feel like posting one of my short stories set in this blog’s world. 

The Dwindling Flowers chronicles the lives of several young mages that work for the Organisation (The Original Agency). They are magical soldiers called the Flowers to trained to fight evil born from curses of mankind. These people no longer exist to the world. Their memories are wiped clean and their family never knew they ever existed. These mages live solely to protect the balance of the worlds. Why they were chosen to become Flowers, is for the Organisation‘s ears only. The difference between our world and the world of Dwindling Flowers' Organization primarily comes from magic. As such, the 'timeline,' as it were, has diverged in several places. For starters, Nikola Tesla was a celebrated mage scientist until his death in 1945 of natural causes in the Great Magickal War of 1914-1953. His wireless telegraphy system expanded into cordless and cellular phones by 1960, though it was deadened by 1969 after consumers lost confidence in American industry. This brings us to the present day. The Cold War instead ended in 1998 with the dissolution of the Soviet Union, after which they lost a special little magical super soldier to the Organisation. The cellphone industry boomed as well. And Provere, France? Well, things are getting a little strange.

Provere City, France 04:50 A.M. 21 Nov. 2013

Judith pushed her hat down over her eyes. The men and women of the Provere police force all knew her, but she was still trying to at least be a little inconspicuous. She walked over the Jeanne d'Arc bridge with purpose, though, as the latest victim of the 'Morpheus' murders still hung below. Her report was that he was hung by a rope of braided human hair.

The victim himself, one Ansolom Broussard, was a simple taxi driver from the eastern district. The slums. He was a heavy-set man, with a family to feed. Someone was going to have to tell them. It wasn't Judith though. She just wanted the details, like the answer why to the fact that his cab was found three miles away abandoned, the ticket still marked. It was warm but dark and humid. A light rain coming down, as typically happened on the nights of these murders. She watched the cops pull the body up, and watched as the coroner and the R.I.S. closed up the scene and sampled the follicles from the noose. The only reason they could tell it was hair in the first place was that whoever did this left some at the top of the bridge. As the R.I.S. worked on the hair samples, she was busy taking pictures of the body. The first picture was the face and neck, showing lacerations and bruising from the noose, as well as an obvious change of angle in the windpipe. Next was the torso, which showed almost no damage except perhaps where it hit the abutment below. A close-up of each hand seemed to show no resistance. Curious. Hardly any scuffing on his shoes either. She went about her business and took pictures of the noose after the R.I.S.had finished sampling. “Thanks, Dion,” she said, smiling wanly. The rain picked up a little bit, a constant drizzle now. She turned to her phone, compiling the messages into a mass text. Constant; Camille; Piper CC: Crime Scene #6 Attached are seven pictures of the victim and the apparent murder weapon. It's definitely connected. Meet me on the Jeanne d'Arc in twenty minutes. That should give us enough time. -J Also, Constant – Leave Katyusha out of this. She didn't have time for petty politics, so she just nipped that in the bud.

"Oo ye yi!" Screamed a young woman with raven hair as her phone buzzed. 

Her name was Camille. She was a mage of Acadian ancestry that had been selected by the Organisation due to her efficiency with French Alchemist tomes and spells upon leaving Quebec to further her mage studies.

Camille had been drinking some warm coffee that just been brewed on the small stove top in her shared apartment with Constant. She nearly jumped out of her clothing when her phone's buzzer went off, causing her fumble around the cramped kitchen to reach for the device. Upon pulling the phone out, it appeared to be rather large and clunky. This technology was one of a newer type of fusion between modern science and magic. 

"Oh god...." She muttered. Her eyes looked drained as she began to study the photographs closely. She always had to deal with the pictures of corpses first since Constantina conventionally seemed to always misplace her phone.

"CONTAST!" Camille yelled as she walked out of the kitchen sideways just to get out of that room and into the shared main common area where both of their beds were.

"The boss w-wants us to be get ready for something...." She then tossed the phone at her partner. "Just look at those p-photos. They are some of the worst in recent memory!"

"S-She also said not to get your girlfriend involved." Camille said this to annoy Constant for not having her phone again.

Constantina, the Greek operative of the Organisation , blinked sleepily. She heard her Quebecian sidekick distantly yell her name. “conSTANT!”

:I told you to stop calling me that...” She thought in her haze. "The boss w-wants to be get ready for something....” 

“Huh? Yeah, she usually did.”. 

“Just look at those p-photos. They are some of the worst in recent memory..." Consti felt the phone hit her smack in the stomach, and she opened her eyes. Seriously. What now? Their cramped barrack room was stuffy with the odd heat.

Yawning, she sat up, phone still on her stomach. "S-She also said not to get your girlfriend involved." 

Damn it! Stop calling her that! “Shut up about Katyusha! She's not my girlfriend!” Of course, that got Constantina fired up. It always did. The absolute loathing she had for that woman... But in the end, didn't she want to be just like her? Eyes still half glazed with sleep, she picked up the phone and scrolled through the pictures. “Huh. This is bad. Not the worst I've ever seen, but pretty terrible.” 

She rolled out of bed, grabbing yesterday's gear to slip it back on. It wasn't dirty, she had only worn it for a meeting with Judith. Of course, she mimicked Katyusha's deadpan. It really wasn't THAT bad, and even though you never really get used to seeing a corpse, she had to seem strong for her partner.  After she got dressed, she stole a cup of Camille's coffee. She didn't even like the stuff, but she needed caffeine desperately. “Hey, Cami, can you help me find my phone?” She tripped over it the next moment. “Never mind...” Katyusha will not be involved. Ever. Thanks. She shot Judith a text.

Camille cocked an eyebrow at the half awake Constantina. "R-Really? With how much you complain about that Soviet, I would think you secretly harbor a deep caring for her." Once again she continued to egg Constant on. 

Camille understood why Constantina wished to be well respected like that Russian. Katyusha was a force to be reckoned with. Whenever Camille came across her, she kept her distance. "O-Okay, maybe they aren't the worst photographs ever." Camille sighed. "I just don't like always having to be the first ones that see them. You're the scout, I'm the backup...What happens if I am not there to do the research for you?" "Hey!!! My coffee..." Camille sighed. Once again, her small pot was swiped. It seemed that after this meeting, she would have to go to the cafe for tea. Ten minutes later, Constantina and Camille stepped out into the street. The weather was unnaturally warm for November. It was 21 degrees Celsius, rainy and humid as hell. 

“This is going to do wonders to my hair,” Consti thought almost absentmindedly. She pushed her hood over her head, both to protect her hair and to attempt to hide her sword. Her favorite camera was tucked safely in its waterproof bag, so she didn't have to worry about that.But... this case. 

Why were the Flowers being put on it? She had to admit that the bit about the hair was weird - and awful. But, really? Most of their cases were much more... odd. Much more bloody, too, like the case of the bull spirit. It gored seventeen people in one night before it was put down. 

That was a Katyusha case though. She helped, what little she could, but... damn it. She really had to stop thinking about that Russian reject.“

Hey, you think we should hail a cab? Or just take the truck?” That was always the difficult part. Sometimes a cab was helpful because they never, ever listened to traffic laws, but at the same time, hiding a sword on her back was way harder. Stupid time of year for her to be taking lead on a case. 

Was she ready?---The girls were late, again. Judith realized they were just waking up, most of them anyway. This scene was getting colder, however, and Constantina knew better. The coroner was packing the body away, taking it to the morgue for the autopsy. If this was anything like the last murder, they'd find his stomach filled with hair as well.She fired off another text to the girls.You're late.

Again.She didn't really think she needed to expound on that, Constantina knew it was for her. You're supposed to be leading these girls, Constant, not teaching them how to be lazy. Oh, well, she would give her a new ass later.

"Do you have enough money to take a cab?" Camille asked Constant.

If there was a constant theme for Constantina and Camille was that money between them was always short. Camille was constantly buying random old objects and texts to add to her collection. The older an item was, the more likely that it could have hidden potential magic.

"Then again...I am not sure if I trust you with driving the unit's truck...Ever since the Cheval Mallet incident, I-I still have flashbacks to when you used it to ram that otherworldly horse into the depths of the sea." Camille said.

She then hugged her book bag that contained her spell book. Sometimes it was hard to tell if she was actually friends with Constantina or one of her biggest critics.

“That horse was kidnapping people, so I hit it with the truck. Sue me,” was Consti's retort. 

“Anyway, I suppose you can drive - if you get the lead out.” 

Cheval Mallet was supposedly folklore, but with the history of the Flowers, and even what each girl could do... Not everything is as fake as people think.

They hit the road a few minutes later, air conditioning blaring. Constantina was extremely tempted to kick Camille out of the driver's seat. People were passing them as though they were standing still. Cautious was understandable, especially after the Cheval Mallet incident—the horse didn't even die, apparently—but this was ridiculous. “Hey, Camille, I thought we agreed for you to step on it!” she repeated often.

"I am doing the speed limit. If we go over it, we'll get noticed." She stated.

An orange horizon greeted them by the time they actually reached the Jeanne d'Arc. Twenty minutes their collective asses, it was now 6:10, and Judith was clearly heated. Consti swallowed the lump in her throat. Damn...

“Constantina,” boss lady really didn't waste time on ripping her a new one. “Do you have ANY idea what twenty minutes mean?”

Again, she swallowed. One of the few things she truly hated—other than Katyusha—was getting in trouble with Judith. It always started with the dress-down, but her disapproval lasted so much longer. “Yes, Judith, I know what twenty minutes meant.”

“I suppose you have an excuse?”

How about I don't know how you're going to make a forty minute drive in twenty, including dress time? “No. I don't.” 

Even with her Mediterranean heritage, she suddenly felt like it was 130 degrees with enough humidity you couldn't towel dry. Judith at least seemed satisfied with her answer because she immediately wheeled on her for something else. In this case, she was not wearing the regulation uniform.

“You do realize we have a dress code?”

 After she parked the car, finally Camille slowly got herself ready. Judith seemed to know that this bookworm took her time, it was just a part of her duty as the magus of the group. Camille then adjusted her cap, so that it was squared more on her head. She then got out of the truck and slung her heavy side bag over her body.

"I apologize, Commissar." Camille said. "I'll make sure to go a bit faster with the truck. I don't trust it that much. A-Anyways, outside of lax uniform wear...What would like to discuss with us?"

Judith paused her tirade for a moment, studying the girls. Camille was attentive, always listening and taking criticism with the astute purpose of bettering herself, other than when it came to her driving. She was like that to a fault, often backing down when she should be getting angry and stepping up to the plate.

Constantina wanted so badly to be like Katyusha, going so far as to hate her. But in reality, she might be strong – and decent with her sword – but it was her words that made her useful. A real crowd pleaser, easily placating the masses in a situation like this.

“Constantina. Lead these girls like you're supposed to. If you can drive faster than Camille, do so. Get here when you're supposed to. Learn to sleep lightly, as you should have been the first one awake.

Pacing across from them, she considered what was actually important. The body, the man hung up by ropes made of human hair. And hair that defied science.

“Anyways, here's the situation. This is the sixth such murder in the last three months, spaced exactly two weeks apart. Positive ID on all of the victims. The first four were Jack the Ripper style murders, all of them prostitutes out of the red light district. The last two, a businessman and this cab driver, while a-typical, mimic murders that happened over a hundred years ago, and a hundred more than that. Pattern also stands that there are four more victims. One an officer of justice, so keep an eye out for that. Do you two have any real questions about this?”

"Is it possible for me to get a piece of the hair?" Camille asked quickly. "I-I mean, before the Agency’s researchers get their hands on it. My tomes might be able to sense something about what we're dealing with. If what you are saying is fact...That there have been historical accounts going back several hundred years...We can pinpoint a common thread. Maybe...Constantina and I can work together on some scouting out clues once I connect the dots?" She knew it was going to be a long shot. The Agency always got its hands on the supernatural before the local cops or civilians could make answers out of it. The simple answer was that it never happened or it was mass hysteria.

For once, Judith lacked the forethought to utilize a Flower's magic. It wasn't that it never happened, but it wasn't often, for sure. Quickly, she scanned the bridge, looking to see if anything had been untouched. She sighed. “I'm sure we'll find something for you to use.” Clearly, Judith was having an off day.

Jack the Ripper... Still alive after a century and a half. Why was the Agency so sure it was him? It could be any number of monstrous people. This wasn't even his modus operandi.

The braid! She'd kept the braid the killer had used as a noose. She'd hid that from the Agency’s Forensic Team to show the girls just what kind of monster they were up against. “We do have the noose that was used.”

[liegf-moving]

untitled myg | one

genre: fuck boy! yoongi AU, humor, angst, smut

WC: 1.8k

pairing: min yoongi x oc reader

warnings: mentions of violence, cursing, mentions of sex

a/n: i will make an official banner once i come up with a title!

You were going to kill Min Yoongi. It was a wonder how you hadn’t yet, but you couldn’t murder someone who looked so good, no matter how annoying they may be. He reminded you of that homeless cat you fed when you were eight that never left. Except Yoongi wasn’t a cute furry companion who you wanted to curl up in your lap. He was your best friend and personal pain in the ass. Well, maybe he wasn’t the actual pain, but rather he caused it. Like whenever he slapped your ass harshly in public, or when he spanked you for being a bitch to him during the day as he slammed into you from behind, or just when he thought it had been neglected for too long and pinched it. Whichever way, he was on your last nerve.

You had endured so much of his antics over the past 20 years of your knowing each other. It was your mother’s fault for pushing her best friend’s child and you to become as close of friends as they were. Yoongi was always annoying and always had a girlfriend. Even in preschool, he had snagged that girl Grace whom you hated, and they happily played house together, leaving you to pick up after them during clean-up time. At family functions, Miss Min was always invited and brought it upon herself to bring her devil of a son along, who your mother had told you to be nice to, which you only agreed to because your mother was one hell of a convincer.

“___, you’d better play with Yoongi unless you want me to whoop your ass. All I have to do is get my shoe,” She said, her fingers gripping onto your reddening ear to hold you in place. Not only did you play with him that night, you continued to hang out with him even now, when you were both in college and very much adults. Despite all of Yoongi’s teasing and pranks, you had to admit he was fiercely loyal.

I mean, sure he stole your cover shirt in high school swim class, forcing you to swim in your bikini, with you desperately hoping the suit straps were enough to keep your breast secure so you wouldn’t flash anyone. And yeah, he sabotaged some of your tinder dates by warning them of your nonexistent chlamydia, but he never crossed the figurative line...too much.

Until now, that is, which is why you were pushing the pedal to the metal to get to your shared apartment to tear his ass a new one. He had asked you to be his ‘new fling’ to discourage girls who wanted more than he was willing to offer, and he did the same for you, It’s not like he gave the girls the wrong idea, either when he explicitly told them that everything was no strings attached with him, It was mutually beneficial, and none of the girls in the past had put up a fight, let alone scratch up your car. Not only did you demand her to pay for the damage, you had to put her in her place when she tried to catch you off guard with a blow to the head from behind. All the while you remained pissed at Yoongi for making you waste time that could have been spent with him blowing your back out instead of nearly getting arrested because a girl couldn’t contain her jealousy enough to not key your car. Your knuckles were no doubt going to bruise, and you still had to attend three classes this week. At the thought of the all the notes and homework you had to do, your hand began to ache.

Your hair was thrown into a bun as you weren’t looking forward to your hair being pulled by someone who didn’t know how to fight, and those pesky light grey shorts kept riding up your thighs as your Fenty slides slapped against the pavement, about to raise hell on the little prick. You hastily unlocked the door and flung the keys on the nearest surface area before storming up to his sleeping form, his body stretching over the entirety of it with only his feet hanging off. The white tee Yoongi was wearing exposed his abdomen, his black basketball shorts hanging lazily on his frame and you were too ticked to even appreciate the sight. Already knowing how to wake him up, you yanked his blonde hair and his eyes instantly shot open. That was the only way, as that boy could sleep through the apocalypse. His bleached blonde hair stuck up in every direction and his lips parted in surprise at the assault you caused to his scalp.

Suddenly his voice thick with sleep called out to you. “___ what the fuck, I’m trying to sleep.” he tried turning around from your fuming figure, the pissed state you were in clearly not registering in his sleep fuddled mind.

“Min fucking Yoongi.” you seethed. “Wake your little ass up and tell me why that crazy bitch Jessica or whatever thought it was cute to key up my car.”

Realizing sleep was no longer an option, he was pretty much awake, but if he saw how beyond irritated you were, he didn’t mention it. Typical. “W-what?” he yawned, running his long fingers through his bed hair, “Baby, I can’t really pay attention to what you’re saying right now when you’re wearing those shorts.”

You swore you were about to combust with how irritated you were, but also because his raspy voice was sending jolts throughout your body and you felt yourself warming subconsciously in arousal. You snapped your fingers in his face twice, garnering you an annoyed roll of his eyes as he finally looked at you face. “You know that Jessica chick who you were screwing around with?”

His eyes lit in recognition and he winced. “The redhead who bit my dick that one time?”

You were almost willing to bet his privates recoiled in remembrance, “Yeah, whatever that one. Well she found out what my car looks like and decided to leave a present for ‘the bitch that stole her man’ or whatever. She totally keyed it!” you laughed incredulously.

At the mention of her keying your car, his normally almond shaped brown eyes widened to that of a deer, and he instantly worried for the state of the girl. If there was one thing he learned from being friends with you since you could shit in a diaper, it was that you didn’t let anyone mess with you or Yoongi for that matter. He had to admit the girl had balls, going as far as to mess up your car when you had only been doing him a favor. Guilt pooled in his gut for putting you in such a situation. Yes, he was an asshole, but he would never put you in that kind of situation on purpose. “What did you do to her?” he asked, now fully awake and his cottony mouth yearned for water.

You followed him into the kitchen calmly, your previous anger dissipating when you caught the guilty look that crossed over his face. “I made her give me enough money to cover the damage, You know her dad is like rich as balls so it wasn’t that big of a deal.” you shrugged, flexing your soon to be bruised knuckles slightly.

Yoongi’s noise of disbelief sounded after he finished his long drag from the water bottle. The slight flex of your right hand caught his attention and he knew for a fact then that you had definitely done more than ask her for the money. There was just no way you would let someone mess with you and get away with it. “Bullshit, I can see your knuckles from here, now tell me what happened so,” he motioned to himself cockily, “the love doctor can fix you right up.”

At this you scoffed, “Shut up. You took one CPR class in high school and you swear you’re the next Preston Burke. And if you must know,” you paused to take a swig of cold water as well, but also to leave Yoongi in suspense a little longer. “She’ll probably be needing a nose job and a definite refill of those lip fillers. I think I popped her lip open,” you joked.

Yoongi choked on his saliva. “No, oh my god! Tell me why I was scared to bite her lip when we were going at it cause I thought it was gonna pop!”

You both fell into hysterics, Yoongi sounded like a walrus, which he only did when he was going to piss himself from laughing so hard. And just like that, you weren’t mad at him anymore. You were remarkably upset, but you couldn’t blame Yoongi for that girl’s actions. It’s not like he was forcing her to do it, and the rational side of you told you it made no sense to be mad at him. You sighed and went to your room, the adrenaline no longer coursing through your veins left you feeling every bit exhausted. Slumping on the bed, you called out, “I don’t know about you, but I’m going to sleep.” Being wound up was tiring, and cuddling with Yoongi seemed heavenly right about now.

As if he were was waiting for you to say those exact words, he jumped in behind you, flicking the lights off on his way. With the way he hugged you from behind, you didn’t have the heart nor strength to bitch at him about jumping on the bed, which was pretty much on its last legs anyway. Just as you were nearing the first layer of sleep, you felt something poke your thigh from behind,

“What the fuck Yoongi?” you groaned in annoyance. There was no way you were going to wake up just to fix his little problem.

“You say it like it’s my fault! You were the one wearing those damn grey shorts that ride up your ass whenever you move.” he defended.

To be honest, you had worn them because you were planning on spending both of your free time doing other activities, but beating Jessica’s ass got in the way. And you told him as much.

“Aw,” he whined childishly, “so you’re telling me I could have been in those cheeks of it wasn’t for that whole car thing?”

“Yup, now let me sleep.” you mumbled, voice muffled by the wrinkly white pillow.

“She wasn’t even worth it. She bit my dick,” Yoongi sighed.

You could practically hear him pouting, and being the good samaritan you are, “You can grab a boob if you want.”

His large palm instantly cupped your right breast from under your cami and he let out a contented sigh. “Would it be too much to ask if-”

“Min Yoongi!”

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

[joongie-smiles]

Warnings: swearing because this is Klaus and a faux Heather Chandler, bullying, steamy kissing because of “Dead Girl Walking”, Klaus unsurprisingly killing people, mentions of suicide, slightly toxic relationship

Note: Images used are not mine, only the blue one with the imagine is. So sorry for not updating sooner but I had exams and school was ending. But I have rewarded you all with a 6,000+ one shot (and this is only part 1), it’s so long because it’s mostly act 1 from Heathers. I did use some lines and parts of the musical and based it off the musical, not so much the movie. 

(Y/N): Your Name

(Y/L/N): Your Last Name

(s/t): skin tone

(e/c): eye color

(Y/F/N): Your (not so good) Friend’s Name

(Y/F/L/N): Your (not so good) Friend’s Name

Masterlist

Request

It was your first day working at Rousseau’s and quite honestly, it wasn’t going so good. First off, you were late to work and missed the little how-to-step-by-step-not-lose-your-job-at-a-popular-bar demonstration one of the workers -Cami- so now you were winging it. Then a group of guys came in that you had to serve that apparently thought that being rude and making sexist comments was a good way to flirt. And they didn’t even tip you! By now you were furiously cleaning the glass cups.

“Woah, there girl, what did the cups ever do to you?” Cami asked from beside you.

You turned to the blonde next to you and stopped the manhandling the glass and sighed. “Nothing, sorry, today is just not the best of days for me,” You admitted.

She gave you a reassuring smile.

“It happens to the best of us. Hopefully it will get better. Rousseau’s isn’t this bad everyday, promise.”

You shook your head. “It’s not the place really, it’s the customers,” you mumbled the last part ruefully.

Cami chuckled. “Well I can’t really promise that there will be better customers but most people here are good people.”

Just as she said ‘people’ the door was opened and a handsome man walked through the door. He was tall and had broad shoulders that were pulled back in a confident stance. He had dark gold colored hair that was slicked back neatly, but not as if he had used hair gel, it looked like the product of multiple times of running his fingers through his hair. He had blue-green eyes that gleamed with mischief and promised to bring trouble. Tough he smiled his eyes held no warm joy, instead they were cold and calculating. His smile -well, more like smirk- didn’t reach his eyes and the skin around the corners of his eyes didn’t crinkle, proof of his lack of laugh lines.He stood confident and his shoulders never once slumped down as if to hide himself. He obviously radiated smugness and hubris. As he neared the counter, his smirk only grew.

“Hello, dear Cami,” he greeted the blonde woman beside you.

Cami sighed and when she spoke her voice was laced with irritation. “What do you want, Klaus?”

“What, can’t I simply visit a friend?” the man -Klaus- asked. Before Cami could reply, Klaus’s eyes slid over to you. His eyes gleamed with curiosity and he replaced his smirk with a grin. Somehow the grin was more unnerving than his smirk had been and it made you shiver. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?” he asked Cami, his eyes never leaving yours.

“No.” Cami’s frustration was now replaced with caution.

“How rudem I thought we were friends,” Klaus said while putting his hand over his heart in mock hurt. “You won’t be as rude, will you?” This was directed at you. He didn’t even give you time to stammer out a reply, he just smiled and offered his hand to shake. “My name is Niklaus Mikaelson but I would rather you call me Klaus.”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N),” you replied, your voice a little shaky. He was, after all, one of the handsomest men you had ever met. And it didn’t help that he had a dangerous aura around him. You took his hand and began to move it in a polite handshake but he cut the action of politeness off by turning your hand to the side so that your intertwined hands were horizontal instead of vertical, and brought your (s/t) hand to his lips and kissed the top of it softly. His lips were soft and warm against your cold and clammy hand. His lips lingered on the skin of your hand and he opened his eyes look at to your (e/y) eyes.

“What do you want, Klaus?” Cami asked again.

Klaus stood back up and dropped your hand gently. When he looked back at Cami, a bit of annoyance showed in his blue eyes but he smiled nonetheless. “I was simply wondering if you had seen Elijah, I can’t find him.”

“No I haven’t,” she said. “But I’ll make sure to tell him you were looking for him.”

Klaus nodded and took a step away from the counter, signaling that he was ready to leave. You felt a sense of dread well up in your stomach and in a state of rushed panic you blurted out the first thing that came into your mind to keep him from leaving. “Do you want a drink?”

Klaus froze mid step and turned his piercing eyes on you. His mouth stretched into another one of his smirks and his eyes were filled with amusement, no doubt by your sentence and the blush that was now dusting your originally (s/t) cheeks. “No thanks, love, but how about a raincheck?”

You didn’t trust your words so you simply nodded your head mutely. He said his goodbyes to you and Cami, with a not-so subtle wink sent your way, and left the bar.

Once he was no longer in your line of sight, you facepalmed and let out a groan. You meet a handsome guy and you embarrass yourself, nice going, (Y/N). “God that was embarrassing,” You grumbled.

“Don’t worry about it, (Y/N),” Cami reassured with that same comforting smile. “Anyway, I wouldn’t advice getting close to me. The Mikaelsons have a way of attracting unwanted attention.” The way she spoke of them, it sounded like Cami knew from experience. And maybe she was right, but she had a feeling that she would be seeing Klaus Mikaelson again. And she secretly hoped so. 

“Oh come on, (Y/N), just one more shirt, please,” (Y/F/N) pleaded.

You and (Y/F/N) had gone to a store to buy some new clothes upon (Y/F/N)’s request. She/He had reassured you that she had money because she had just gotten her paycheck but when she had looked in her wallet, (Y/F/N) couldn’t find enough money to pay for everything she wanted so she had asked you if you could pay for some of her clothes. You had agreed, thinking that it would simply be one or two shirts. But no, it was not one or two shirts, it was three shirts, two skirts, and a brand new pair of heeled boots. And (Y/F/N) still wanted you to buy her more clothes!

“I don’t know, (Y/F/N), I don’t think I’ll have enough money for that,” you said hesitantly.

“Oh that’s nonsense, (Y/N). Aren’t we friends?” (Y/F/N) asked.

“Well . . . yes but with the dress that I’m buying and all that clothes I don’t think I’ll have enough money to pay for everything,” You explained softly. “Maybe if you maybe didn’t buy the boots and the green shirt . . .”

“How about you don’t buy the dress?” (Y/F/N) said sharply. “I mean it’s the same amount as the boots and the shirt. Anyway you never even go to parties, what would be the use of buying something you’ll never use?”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself but quickly shut it again. You looked down at the pretty dress (picture with your prefered color).

(Y/F/N) was right, you weren’t much of a party person but you thought it would be something nice to wear when the weather got warmer. And it looked rather flattering on you. But maybe she was right . . .

“Oh that’s nonsense, (Y/N) should definitely buy the dress. It is, after all, her money,” a familiar voice said from behind you.

You turned at couldn’t stop the smile that appeared on your face when you saw Klaus, sporting his usual smirk. You had seen him a couple of times before and had talked with him countless of times before today, yet you couldn’t quench the happiness blooming in your chest upon meeting his blue eyes. But the moment was ruined when (Y/F/N) opened her mouth.

“Who the hell are you?” she sneered.

“He’s a friend,” You quickly explained. “(Y/F/N), this is Klaus Mikaelson, Klaus, this is (Y/F/N) (Y/F/L/N).”

“Her best friend,” she emphasized.

You held back a wince and nodded. “Yup, best friend.” Your tone lacked the enthusiasm expected.

“And her only friend,” (Y/F/N) added and that snobby tone she always used.

This time you didn’t comment but you really didn’t have to because Klaus did.

“Oh I don’t think that’s true,” he said with a nonchalant shrug.

(Y/F/N) scowled. “Excuse me?”

“Well I am pretty sure I qualify as a friend, as (Y/N) already called me one, and quite honestly, I would make a much better best friend,” Klaus said. He kept his nonchalant tone but now he had a smirk on his face.

“No you wouldn’t,” (Y/F/N) sneered. “You seem like a creep and you have horrible fashion sense.”

Klaus looked down at himself and shrugged once again. “I think I look dashing, don’t you, love?” This was directed to you. But before you could answer, (Y/F/N) spoke up again.

“And you don’t know the first thing about her,” she insisted.

“I could learn.”

“She’s very clingy and dependent.”

“Lucky for her, I am a great breadwinner.”

“And you use weird words, like who the hell even says breadwinner?”

“It’s called having an education, you should get one.”

“And your accent is totally fake to replace your real voice.”

“100% real. I don’t replace anything with fake replacements, but I couldn’t say the same for you.”

“Are you saying that I have implants?!”

“Well you said it, I’m simply agreeing.”

“God you’re such an asshole!”

“At least i don’t lie about not having money.”

(Y/F/N)’s face went white with shock and the angry scowl that her face was twisted in fell. “W-What are you talking about?” she asked stiffly.

Klaus rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, you don’t really expect to fool anyone when you’re practically screaming wannabe-rich-girl-and-highly-probable-gold-digger.”

“You’re crazy,” (Y/F/N) growled but it was lacking any frightening tone to it.

“Then show us your wallet,” Klaus insisted. He was smirking as if he knew he was right and by the way (Y/F/N)’s face had gone pale, he was.

“I don’t need this from you, creep,” (Y/F/N) spat at Klaus. She turned to you with a less malicious glint in her eyes. “And buy your stupid dress, it doesn’t even look good on you.” Then she dropped the clothes in a nearby bin and left the store in a furry.

“Well that was fun,” Klaus hummed. He turned to you and his eyes brightened which was accompanied by a smile. But once he noticed that you weren’t smiling back he frowned. “Don’t worry about her, love, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. I think you look lovely in that dress. In fact, I think you should also buy this little thing, it would look great with the dress.” (picture but whatever color you prefer).

You took the delicate flower crown and smiled slightly up at Klaus. “Thank you for standing up for me.” “Anytime, love,” he said, that beautiful smile never leaving his face.

You wrapped your arms around yourself and tried to stuff the queasy feeling in your stomach further down. All around you people were laughing and jumping around or rubbing bodies with strangers, most drunk and the rest tipsy. They were having fun and enjoying themselves, all except you. Even your so-called best friend was off probably drinking or jacking some guy off, while you were left to fend for yourself in the bar full of drunks. You were starting to think that maybe you shouldn’t have come. Maybe I can just lock myself in the bathroom till we leave. You’re about to pursue the ide when you feel a hand roughly grab your arm.

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/F/N) growled.

You blink in surprise and look up at her. “What-what do you mean, I’m not doing anything--” You began but cut yourself off with a gasp of pain when her blood red nails dug into your skin.

“Exactly,” she growled. “Now get out there and at least pretend like you’re having fun.” She pushed you towards the dancing crowd roughly and plastered on a fake smile.

You shook your head and protested as the harsh and abrupt movement caused your stomach to churn and tumble. “(Y/F/N), I don’t know about this, I’m not feeling really good--”

“Oh that’s a load of bullshit,” (Y/F/N) said unkindly.

“(Y/F/N), I’m serious,” You insisted.

“Cut the crap, (Y/N), and just-- AH!” she shrieked when the alcohol and chips you had ingested demanded to be seen and you threw up all over her red pumps. You stumbled away from her and wiped your mouth of any access vomit. (Y/F/N) looked down at her now ruined shoes then, after a moment of speechless shock, she looked back up at you with a furious glare. “You bitch! I take you under my wing and protect you and this is how you repay me?! With puke?!”

In a sudden burst of confidence you spat the remaining taste of vomit from your mouth and for the first time stood up for yourself. It might have been the alcohol drumming through your veins or just the realization that you could no longer live as (Y/F/N)’s petty trash, but you refused to be treated like this again.”You know what, (Y/F/N), yes, this is how I repay you for endless months of barely tolerable treatment and false friendship. And you know what? Lick it up, baby. Lick. It. Up!” You spat the last word and turned on your heel and walked away with your head held up high.

Once you were far enough away you buried your head in your hands and let out a frustrated shout. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! Oh god she’s gonna make my life living hell! Oh what have you done, (Y/N)!” You paced back and forth and tried to think of what to do next. You could always move somewhere else and start over and change your name and get a cat and become the crazy cat lady. You shook your head, that was absurd, she wasn’t that influential. Anyway, you couldn’t afford to start all over. So . . . why not do something fun?

You looked down at your phone and scrolled through your messages, trying to look for that message. Once you found the message you looked around at your surroundings and were surprised to see that you were close to the address flashing on your phone. You started walking to the building. You looked up at the huge mansion of a house when you arrived.

Honestly, you weren't that surprised to see that he lived in such a big, and obviously expensive, house. You tested the door and was surprised that the door easily swung open with only a small squeak that she was sure no other human could hear. You walked in and before your newfound courage dissipated you shouted out into the still night air. “Klaus! It’s me, (Y/N). I-I’m sorry to bother you but the door was open and . . .” You trailed off and shook your head at your stupidity. How could I even think of coming?!

“(Y/N)? What are you doing here?” Klaus’s voice asked. You looked up and saw Klaus standing on the railing that was facing you. He had on a long sleeved, green Henley shirt and sleep pants and his face was slack with fatigue.

“I . . . I’ve had a shitty night,” you admitted. You retold the night’s events to Klaus as he climbed down the steps to reach your side. He lead you into the comfort of a sitting room and sat next to you on a couch while you complied. By the time you had finished your tale, Klaus had served you both a bottle of bourbon. You thanked him and took the glass in your hands but didn’t drink it. After everything that had happened, you weren’t too keen on taking more alcohol into your system.

“So why did you come here?” Klaus asked after he had once again seated himself by your side.

“It felt right and . . . safe,” You muttered. And, well . . . you wouldn’t have minded getting a little freaky. You blushed at the thought and you could feel your heartbeat speed up.

“And?” Klaus pressed.

“And what?” You asked, confused.

“There’s always an and.”

“Not know.”

“Come on, (Y/N), don’t lie to me, love.”

“I’m not!”

“Are you sure, it’s okay if there is, no need to be ashamed.”

“I am not because there isn’t anything to be ashamed of!”

“You know, I don’t like people who lie to me, love.”

“I’m not!”

“Love--”

“Okay fine there is an and! I wanted to forget about what happened at the party and enjoy myself by having sex!” You exclaimed the last part in a frustrated ramble. When you realized what you had said you gasped and covered you mouth with your hand. You could already feel your cheeks getting warmer and warmer and you were sure the intensity of the heat reflected the color of your cheeks.

Klaus smirked and leaned closer to you. “Enjoy yourself hm?”

“God this is so embarrassing!” You groaned and buried your face into the cushion of couch nearby.

“So you think I’m worthy of having sex with you?” Klaus asked, no doubt with his smirk still present.

“Klaus shut up,” You grumbled.

“So that must mean you find me attractive, charming--”

“Annoying, infuriating,” You added.

“And simply amazing to be around,” Klaus concluded.

You didn’t answer.

“Well, I for one am glad you shared this information with me,” Klaus said. “Because if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t have been able to do this.” You felt soft lips press against the exposed skin on your shoulder. Your head shot out from their former place on the couch and turned to him with wide eyes.

“Why did you do that?” You gasped.

“Because it just so happens that I, too, would like to have sex with you,” Klaus said. His blue-green eyes zeroed in on you lips and darkened with desire and lust. He dipped his head closer to yours and captured your lips with his. You got over the initial shock and wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you as he gripped onto your hips. The kiss was fierce and passionate and reflected the suppressed feelings both of you had. Hands traveled, grabbing and reaching for hot skin, desperate to enhance the pleasure they were feeling. Klaus moved from kissing your mouth to kissing down your jaw and found temporary satisfaction in the crook of your neck. You gasped and arched your back when he started sucking on the nerve on the crook of your neck. You panted and with desperate fingers grabbed onto the ends of his shirt and pulled it up to feel the exposed skin on his abdomen. Klaus pulled away to allow you to catch your breath and pull his shirt off. He tried to help but he only succeeded in making it a much more difficult task.

You giggled, finding his struggle amusing, but it soon stopped when he had taken most of the shirt off. You marveled at his fully exposed chest and had to force yourself not to drool. His arms were muscular and when he moved his arms to fully get rid of the shirt from the sleeves you could see the muscles that rippled around his shoulders. You would be lying if you said he didn’t have nice abs.

“You’re drooling, love,” Klaus teased.

“Shut up and kiss me,” You said.

Klaus chuckled and complied. As he kissed you, hands once again roamed but this time they also aided in pulling off clothes. Soon you were in Klaus’s bedroom and you two completed the original reason you had visited Klaus.

You opened your eyes and yawned. You rubbed the sleep from your eyes sluggishly and snuggled closer to Klaus’s warm body. He shifted beside you and lazily wrapped an arm around you. His smile matched his movements and his face was void of tautness or stress, instead it was full of peacefulness and, dare it be said, happiness.

“Morning, love,” he said, his voice was rough but he said it softly and in a whisper, as if if he said it any louder, he’d shatter the scene.

“Good morning,” You replied in the same way.

“Are you hungry? I’m sure we could catch something to eat--” he stopped talking when he glanced at the clock that read 11:54 am. He chuckled softly, finding the fact that they had slept in amusing. “Apologies, love but I don’t think we’ll be able to find anymore breakfast places still serving breakfast.”

Apologies. The word triggered a memory and (Y/F/N)’s face flashed in your head and you humphed in annoyance. You got up and quickly pulled on your clothes and started searching for your wallet and phone.

Klaus raised an eyebrow. “Or we could hurry and try to get some if you are so frustrated about it.” “No, it’s not that, Klaus,” You explained from under the bed. How did your shoes end up there? You dismissed the thought and grabbed the white flat.  “I just remembered that I have to go apologize to (Y/F/N).”

Apologize?” Klaus snorted which he somehow made it sound elegant. “Why would you apologize to that--”

“Because if I don’t want her to ruin my life, I have to stay on her good side,” You explained. “I’ll be back I just need to plead for forgiveness and pledge my undying loyalty.”

“The only person you’ll be pledging your undying loyalty is me,” Klaus grumbled. “And don’t think I’m letting you go alone, I’m coming with you.”

You pulled on your shoes and grabbed your purse then kissed his cheek. “Look at you, accompanying me to fight the horrible beast. What a gentleman.”

“I aim to please,” Klaus said with a smirk.

You laughed and walked out of his room with the blond Mikaelson in tow.

You carefully opened the door to (Y/F/N)’s house and started to walk towards the kitchen to make her something to help with the undoubtedly horrible hangover she would have.

“On Sundays she’s supposed to go with her cousin to visit Grandmie’s house but she never does, even when she’s not hungover,” You explained to Klaus. But when you turned to look at your side where you expected him to be, he wasn’t there. You blinked in surprise and turned around to look for him. Oddly enough, he was standing outside the still open door, looking slightly pissed off.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is there a reason you haven’t come in?” “I must be allowed in,” Klaus explained.

You rolled your eyes. “Klaus I know you are old fashioned but just come in already.”

“I have to be allowed into the house by the owner,” Klaus said.

“If you changed your mind about coming with me that’s fine, just don’t make up absurd excuses,” You said with a slight scowl.

“I’m not,” he insisted. “A vampire must be invited by the owner of the house or a resident.”

You took a moment to process what he just said. “Sorry, did you just say vampire?”

He smiled ruefully. “Surprise.” He did jazz hands to add to the effect.

“That’s impossible,” You insisted. “Vampires aren’t real, anyway, you’re walking in the sunlight.”

“Actually, I’m a werewolf vampire hybrid, the Original Hybrid to be exact, which is why the sun doesn’t burn me.” Klaus set his hand on a patch of sunlight and moved his palm to prove that he wouldn’t burn.

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Prove it.”

He sighed and looked up at the sky with a slightly annoyed expression as if he had been told to do this many times before. You wouldn’t be surprised if he had been. When looked back at you, his eyes glowed golden and he opened his mouth to show off the fangs protruding from it.

Your eyes widened in surprise and you couldn’t contain the yelp that escaped your mouth. “Holy shit, you are a vampire.”

His face morphed back to normal and his eyes gleamed with amusement. “Hybrid, love,” he corrected.

You shook your head from side to side slowly.  “My boyfriend's a vampire,” you said, your voice containing amazement.

“Hybrid,” Klaus repeated.

“Yeah, that.”

“Could you, I don’t know, tell the skanky bitch--sorry, (Y/F/N)--to let me in?” Klaus asked. He was obviously starting to get impatient seeing as he was now tapping his foot and his jaw was clenched.

“Oh, yeah, right.” You ran to the foot of the stairs and cupped your hands around  your mouth before shouting. “(Y/F/N), I’ve come to make you that hangover drink can we come in?”

“Yes, it’s about goddamn time!” (Y/F/N) called angrily.

Klaus huffed and stepped through the door. You waved him to follow you into the kitchen. Once inside, you grabbed a cup of water and a box of tea bags. You put the cup of water in the microwave and started looking through the tea bags to see which one to use. After choosing one you opened the refrigerator door to brag honey but saw the gallon of milk and orange juice and grabbed those instead. You placed them on the counter with a grin.

“How bad do you think it would be for her stomach to drink tea mixed with milk and orange juice?” You asked Klaus, who was facing away from you. “Diarrhea worthy?”

Klaus didn’t answer. Instead he turned around and placed a bottle of sink cleaner on the counter with a smirk. “Or we could just help her get rid of her hangover forever with this.”

You frowned and took the cup of now steaming water from the microwave and put in a tea bag. “Haha, very funny,” you responded dryly.

He grabbed a glass cup and filled it with the blue liquid. “Come on, just give her a little bit and poof! Gone.”

You rolled your eyes and poured milk and orange juice in the teacup. “She would never drink something like that.”

Klaus grabbed a cup that was from the same set as the ceramic cup the tea-milk-orange-juice mixture was in and poured the blue sink cleaner liquid into it. “She won’t be able to tell the difference,”

“Stop being a jerk.” You washed your hands and grabbed a ceramic cup.

“(Y/N)--” Klaus begins to say but stops himself.

You stop walking and turn to look at him. “Yeah?”

“Nothing,” Klaus said and motioned for you to lead the way.

You turned and walked out of the kitchen and up the stairs and down the hall till you were at the last door on the left. You opened the door and quickly ushered Klaus in and followed behind and closed it as quietly as possible. You approached the droopy figure buried in the sheets and put the mug on the night stand next to it.

You clasped your hands and sent a brief prayer of hope that this would work. “(Y/F/N) I --”

(Y/F/N) threw the covers back, thus interrupting you. “Hmm if it isn’t Miss Ungrateful oh look you brought Mr. Fake British Accent, what a surprise,” she drawled.

You took the cup back in your hands and held it up as a peace offering. “I made this hangover cure for you as an apology. I know we both said a lot of things we didn’t mean to say last night but--” “Actually, I would prefer it if you got on you knees and begged in front of your little boy toy,” (Y/F/N) said, pointing one of her well manicured nails at Klaus who stood in the corner. Klaus only glared and mumbled something under his breath which (Y/F/N) promptly ignored.

“Haha yeah right, anyway--”

“I wasn’t kidding,” she retorted harshly.

You let a defeated sigh escape your lips and got on your knees, careful not to spill the drink. But before you could continue, (Y/F/N) scoffed and grabbed the cup from your hands.

“Nice, but you’re still dead to me,” she said. She ignored your look of disbelief and drank from the cup. When she finished she turned to hand you the cup but before it could reach your hands, she dropped it as her body jerked violently. 

Her smug smile fell from her face and she grabbed her throat in distress. She gagged and choked and fell to the floor. You fell to her side and tried to figure out what the hell was happening to her, after all, tea, milk, and orange juice couldn’t possibly produce this reaction.

(Y/F/N) grabbed onto your hand and looked at you with wide eyes. “Fucking shit,” she gasped, then collapsed to the floor, dead.

Your eyes widened and you stumbled away from her and you felt your empty stomach begin to churn.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Klaus said softly and looked down at her body, seemingly unimpressed.

You came to your senses and pushed him back and ran back to her side. “Don’t just stand there, call 911! (Y/F/N)! (Y/F/N)!”

“It’s no use, she’s already dead, I can’t hear a heartbeat,” Klaus said. “She dies almost instantly. What a shame, it would've been more fitting if she suffered.”

“Klaus!: You scolded. You buried your head in your hands and shook your head. “Oh my god what have I done?! I’ve killed my best friend!”

“Or your worst enemy,” Klaus added.

“Same difference!” You brushed him off. “Oh god I’ll go to jail, my fingerprints are all over the cup. Oh no!”

“Don’t worry, love, I could just compel the police to say it was a suicide, one of the perks of being a hybrid,” Klaus reassured.

“What if it doesn’t work? Oh god what if it doesn’t work?!” You were started to panic and stood up to start pacing back and forth. “I can’t go to jail, I’m not cut out for it.”

“You’ll be fine, (Y/N), I won’t let anyone take you to jail,” Klaus reassured.

You slowly nodded and started to feel more calm. You turned away from the body and faced a calm Klaus. “How can you be so-so calm at a time like this?”

“I’ve been alive for over 1,000 years and I survive off blood, this is like toddler cartoons,” Klaus said. He noticed a book by her nightstand and picked it up. “Well, this seems depressing, it should be enough to convey the message.” He walked over to the body and placed it in her palm. He stood up and brushed his hands off. “Now, how about we go get something to eat? I’m starving.”

True to his word, you did not go to jail. No one came knocking on your door or was asking around about you. (Y/F/N)’s supposed suicide made a bit of a rift for 2 or 3 days but it quickly died down and there wasn’t much talk that involved her anymore, she had simply come and gone. So you were able to relax for a little bit less than a month. Well as much as a woman who was dating an Original and worked at a bar could. You and Klaus had gotten closer and you were happy and at peace. His family liked you, Rebekah loved having another female around, Kol thought you were ‘an interesting little human’ (his words, not yours), and Elijah was glad that you made him happy. You became good friends with Cami and the young witch, Davina Claire, and the three of you would often get together and just talk or do something fun, Sometimes Rebekah tagged along when Davina was up for hanging out with an Original. Even your job at Rousseau’s had gotten better, pay was decent and most of the customers behaved. Most, not all. There was still those two annoying guys who had bothered you on your first day and continued to bother you. You could handle them most days and they didn’t do anything too bad, just call out comments that were rude and suggestive. You never thought of doing anything until you mentioned it to Klaus when he asked why you were so grumpy. He, to say the least, was not happy.

“We should do something about it,” Klaus demanded angrily. “This is unacceptable!”

“It’s fine, Klaus. Yeah it’s annoying but I can handle it,” You insisted.

“It is not fine, (Y/N). You shouldn’t have to deal with those idiots,” Klaus countered.

“Well what do you want to do about it?” You asked with a raised eyebrow.

Klaus took a moment to think then smirked as one popped in his head. “Why don’t we play a joke on the jockers?”

“What do you mean?” You leaned forward, now you were interested.

“I mean let’s temporarily ‘kill’ them so when they come back, they’ll be the laughing stocks of New Orleans,” Klaus said.

“But how? How do temporarily kill someone?” You asked.

“By Turning them,” Klaus explained. “We’ll kill them and then I will turn them into vampires so it looks like they are alive again when they are really undead.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, unsure of his plan. You were starting to get a bad feeling in your gut about this. “I don’t know . . .” “Oh come on, love, it’s perfect,” Klaus insisted.

You mulled the thought over in your head for a while before ultimately agreeing with a nod. “Fine.”

So the plan was set. The next day at work you invited the two men to meet you at the outskirts of the bayou (away from where the Crescents lived) later that afternoon. They had agreed enthusiastically. So later that afternoon you waited by a tree with a gun hidden in the waistband of your jeans while Klaus hid a little bit away. Your heart was pounding and you were beyond nervous. What if it didn’t work? What if you missed/ Could you even pull the trigger? Did you forget to load the gun?! But before you could continue your internal worrying, the men arrived.

“So do we just whip it out?” Guy 1 asked with a nervous chuckle.

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes and instead smiled sweetly. “Oh take it slow. Strip for me.”

They giggled and hit each other’s shoulders playfully. They turned around and started taking their clothes off. They made a show of first taking of their hoodies then their t-shirts and jeans. You assumed they were trying to be seductive and sexy but instead the looked like buffoons. You rolled your eyes and waited impatiently.

“What about you?” Guy 2 peeked over his shoulder and looked at you.

You put on the sweet smile again. “I was kinda hoping you would tear my clothes off, sport.”

He nodded and went back to taking his clothes off.

You spoke up to stop them when they were down to their underwear. “Alright on the count of three you turn around,” You said. “One.” You took out your gun and made sure it was loaded.

“Two,” they said in unison.

You cocked the gun and held it up, pointing at Guy 1. Luckily, the sound of their giddy voices masked this.

“Three.”

So many things happened at once. The guys turned and smiled expectedly and stepped forward to ward you. But upon seeing your gun, their smiles fell and were replaced with looks of shock and fear. You didn’t give them time to react and shot Guy 1 in the chest. He collapsed and he hit the floor with a muffled thump!

You gasped and let out a sigh of relief which quickly turned into a laugh. Now the pressure was off and it was over. It was honestly quite exhilarating. You couldn’t help but enjoy the feeling of the adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The other guy screamed and turned to run away but Klaus stopped him and shot him in the throat.

While Klaus proceeded to rid the gun of his fingertips you looked down at the body on the floor next to you. The sickening feeling you had gotten when (Y/F/N) died returned and you started to have doubts that your planned worked. You looked up at Klaus and asked the question that had been nagging at her. “Klaus, what exactly is the process to Turn someone?” You asked softly and hesitantly.

“You must consume vampire blood then die and when you are ‘reborn’ you must drink blood to complete the process,” he responded without looking up. He acted as if he had not just shot a man in cold blood, he acted as if this was just another Friday afternoon. He acted as if he hadn’t just lied to you and convinced you to kill someone.

You paled and looked at him with wide eyes full of horror. “What the fuck have you done?!” You sobbed.

Klaus finally looked up. He showed no signs of guilt,in fact, he was smiling gently at you. “Oh don’t worry, love, the world will be better without them in it.” He took a step towards you but you stumbled back. Your leg got caught on the guy’s body and you started to fall. But your body never hit the ground. Instead, Klaus’s arms wrapped around you and he held you close to him. “Our love is god, (Y/N),” he reassured. “We did the right thing.”

You slowly nodded in agreement. He’s right, Klaus is right. He knows what to do, he’s been around for a long time, he knows what to do with these things. And he wouldn’t hurt you, he loves you. Everything is okay.

Next Up: One of my original stories

[golddaggers]

Best Friends Forever

Reader x Klaus Mikaelson

*Requested smut, read carefully ;)

Imagine: You are angry because you ex seems to be really hitting it off since you two broke up. In order to help you through it, Klaus Mikaelson, your best friend, shows up in your place. There, he decides to come clean about his own feelings. After that, things get a bit hot in your room.

Word Count: 3043 

A light rain was pouring outside, matching your horrible mood. Today you had the misfortune of bumping into your ex boyfriend, Matt Donovan, and, to make things even worse, he looked like he could not be any happier, babbling about his growing success. Like you wanted to actually know that! Urgh! And that son of a bitch still felt in the right to comment about your life and fucking laugh about it. So what you had been going out and drinking more? It was none of his business.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on the radio. Music helped a lot to discharge the anger and keep your emotions together. Right now, it was exactly what you needed. Luckily, your girl power song was on: Beyoncé’s hit Single Ladies. A smile fastly appeared, as you started to sing and dance along.

“Acting up, drink in my cup! I can’t care less what you think.” You swayed your hips to the tune and rolled your eyes, wishing you were telling him that. “I need no permission, did I mention?”

“I take you are in a good mood, Y/N.”

The singing stopped and strangled scream came out instead. It took a few seconds for you to realise who had barged into your room, invading your privacy. After the fear went off and Klaus was laughing out loud, you frowned, angry. 

“This is not funny. I could have had a heart attack.”

“You’re a banshee, I’m pretty sure you are able to predict your own death.” You narrowed your eyes. “I’m just kidding! I came back town yesterday and heard Matt was at Mystic Falls as well. Thought I’d come to see how you were doing.”

“I’m doing peachy!”

“Do you want me to kill him?” He questioned, sitting next to you. “Because I’d gladly do it.”

“No. I don’t want his blood on your hands too. My friends already hate you enough.”

He chuckled at your remark.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m just mad he still feels like he has some sort of right over me. Matt even laughed when I said I had met somebody new.”

Klaus’ face twitched when you said that, almost as if he was jealous or something. But you had to be imagining it, since he was madly in love with Camille O'Connell, a bloody bartender he met back in New Orleans and the one responsible for stealing him away from you. Argh, you hated her and your bad luck with boys.

“Have you?” He asked, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.

“No… But I wish I had, so I would go out and show him off to everyone.” You laughed and he soon followed. “Enough about me now. Tell me, how is everything in New Orleans?”

“Fine, I guess, although I wish you would come to live with me. You’d be safer plus I wouldn’t have to be missing you all the time.”

“Aw, if that’s your way of telling me you like me, I’m loving it.” You hugged him, nuzzling on his neck. “Yet, I’m pretty sure you didn’t miss me so much.”

“Is that so, love?”

“Yeah, I bet you kept yourself busy hooking up with that Cami girl.”

Klaus giggled and stroke your hair, squeezing your body against his. It felt good to be there, inside his arms, feeling all the warmth he could provide. The best place on earth. Suddenly, you were taken from your thoughts as the blond pushed you off a little, just enough so he could see your face and run his fingers through your cheeks.

“You shouldn’t worry about that.”

“Of course I should, she has you all to herself.”

“No, she doesn’t. Cami was just a fling. Someone to pass the time with.”

“I thought you were in love with her…” You bit your lip, confused.

“Oh, I assume Elijah and you have been talking.”

“Nah. Rebekah may have slipped the information that you were in love when she came to visit me.”

“She speaks the truth. But it’s not Cami the woman I love.”

“Then who is it?”

“You’re so silly, darling.” His voice came out soft as silk. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m in love with you! Since the fucking day you walked into that bar and amazed me with your courageousness. I knew I had to have you in my life.”

A breath got stuck on your throat, which made a loud squeal come out. The whole situation was just too much to swallow at once. Your mind even rewined his speech, trying to make you understand what he had just said. Klaus Mikaelson loved you. His funny little human/banshee friend. A girl crazy enough to stand up for her own principles and give him witty responses. The only one able to love him despite his awful mood swings and dreadful need for revenge. Yes, despite all the times he hurt your friends and plotted evil plans, you still wanted him to be a part of your life. Heck, this was so messed up! Maybe you had some sort of Stockholm syndrome or something like that.

“Y/N?”

“W-What?”

“Breathe.” Only then you realised you were not breathing and was starting to feel dizzy. You let air fill your lungs, helping everything to work properly as before. “Feeling better?”

“You love me?” Your voice was still coming out as a high pitched sound. “How can you love me?”

“I can’t explain it… But I do. I love you. And I am selfish enough to need you by my side.”

“This is…”

Klaus did not give you time to finish the sentence. He smashed his lips against yours, his hands grasping your hair and pulling it. For a split second, you considered stopping him. You were not able to do that, though. Matter fact, it took only a couple of seconds for you to wrap your arms around his waist and kiss him as badly as you wanted.

“Klaus… We need to… Come on, help me a bit.” Your voice came out between gasps and his attempts to keep kissing you. He surrendered and let you free of his spell.

“I’m tired of holding back. You have no idea how hard it is to hide feelings.”

“Why did you do it, then?”

“You were with Matt.”

“So? That never mattered to you before. I heard what you did to poor Tyler just because Caroline loved him.”

“It’s… Different. I never loved her like I do with you. I wanted you to be happy.”

“OK, so we have caring and altruistic Klaus at once? I’m going to pass out.” He laughed and you joined him. “You know I love you too, honey. I just thought we were platonic. Like, friends and nothing else. Me, a nut job who had the guts to challenge a thousand year old original vampire would never have a chance with someone like him. Like you. So I settled with human and ordinary.”

“Don’t ever say that again.” He placed two fingers on your lips. “I can’t imagine no one who can match you. You’re meant to be extraordinary. A true queen. My queen.”

His grip tightened on your waist, bringing you closer. Now it was all about the senses, which were way more heightened. Klaus’ hot breath against your neck, while his stubble made shivers run across your body. Everything felt so perfect…

“Nik, are you really sure you want do this? Because once we’re in, there’s no getting out.”

“I’m sure. You’re stuck with me, Y/L/N.”

“I guess we should seal it, then.” You said, hooking your arms around his neck and looking directly at the intense blue of his eyes.

“How?”

“It’s better if I show you.”

Your hands slippered slowly through his body until they reached the tip of his shirt, tugging it. Klaus smiled and lifted his arms, helping you to get that part of his clothing off. The sight of him shirtless made you sigh, enchanted. No other guy you had hooked up with looked half as hot as the original vampire did. It was not fair!

“Like what see, darling?”

“Oh, yeah. But-am, I’d like to see more.” You bit your lower lip. “Take those off for me, please?”

He started unbuckling his belt and then, in a very provocative way, got rid of his trousers. While the Mikaelson kick it to one of the room’s corners, you thought it was not possible for someone to be this delicious. That pair of black boxers had your mouth watering just to see what was hiding underneath. You stood, walking towards him and began to feel his bare chest. The muscles tensed. Klaus approached your bodies by pulling you closer.

“You’re way too dressed for the occasion.”

“Then help me out of it.” You whispered, teasing him.

Suddenly the skirt your wearing was torn and tossed somewhere, your baggy shirt went alongside it. The same thing happen to the fine black bra and the thong you had on. The original hybrid grinned, maliciously. He did not spare time to touch your pussy. His fingers very urgent, which made you groan loudly.

“Oh, God!”

“Nuh-uh, babe. I want my name coming out of your lips.”

“Yeah, honey?” Your voice was soaked with pleasure. “I guess you’ll have to work for it.”

“Don’t worry, I promise it’ll be satisfying.”

Klaus grasped your shoulders, applying a fair amount of strength, and guided you to bed, where he pushed you so you would fell against the mattress. Once you were there, he spread your legs and started to trace every inch of your skin, so freaking slowly it was driving you mad. A grunt escaped, as a complaining for his method to deal with things. He did not seem to care, for the man kept having his way. He gave sloppy kisses on your inner thighs and his hands ran to your breasts, massaging. You stuck your fingers in his curls, every gasp was followed by your nails digging a little more deep on it. Finally he thought it was a good idea to cut the teasing and go for it. His tongue darted out your entrance, the tip playing with your folds and making you yell so loudly you knew your neighbours would come by to critise.

“Do you like that, love?”

“Oh, fuck, just shut up and keep going.”

The original laughed and went back to your core, this time kitten licking the soft nub in the centre of it. Your breathing became more irregular as he invested more rashly, which made you twist and buckle your hips against his face. The tension built up on your stomach wanting to be released. Though you had the feeling he would not give this to you so easily. Klaus pumped two of his fingers in and out of you, now spotting places you never noticed that were there before.

“Oh, baby… I can’t hold on any longer.”

“So fast, love? I was hoping you would give me time to enjoy as well.”

“Then fuck me, right now.” The numb feeling almost did not let you externalise your thoughts. “Please… I need you inside me.”

With a small nod, he took off his briefs and stood bare naked in front of you. “And that’s what I call a beautiful sight”, you thought, laughing on the inside. Klaus grabbed one of your ankles and, once more, opened your legs wide. Now it was time to do what you had been craving from the minute you saw him shirtless.

“Ready to scream my name, babe?”

“I think you’ll be the one screaming mine.”

Klaus grinned, grasping your buttcheeks and helping you straddle him. Once you were settled, the feeling of his bare cock touching your wet pussy was overwhelming, making both moan out loud. He helped to improve the pleasure by pressing your clit with his thumb, drawing small eight figures on it. Gosh, all you wanted to do was yell and ride him like crazy. Like he was the last man standing on Earth.

“Come on, love. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Oh, OK.”

You splayed one of your hands on his chest and used the other to lead his length to your throbbing core. Took only a split second for it to happen, but, when it did, you knew it was the best decision you had ever made. The Mikaelson was soft and warm, just like you imagined he was. Perfect. His large hands clutched your hips, making your body do the work. Your breathing came out harshly, it was pretty hard to do that when you were so focused on getting your pleasure.

“So fucking delicious, Y/N.”

“Oh-oh, Klaus!”

“Told I’d make you yell my name.” He winked and you laughed. “Fuck, babe.”

“I’m going to cum. So… Close!“

The pleasure sensation was spreading through your form, making you dig your nails so deep within his skin that you could see blood coming out. Of course you did not have any power to hurt him, well, at least physically speaking. Your true scream, the banshee one, could easily put him into a long sleep, but you had that under control, so you flooded the room with moans and gasps. Now the orgasm seemed a movement away.

“Cum to me, Y/N/N. As hard as you can.”

“Oh, f-fuck! Klaus!”

It was so wonderful that all you managed to do was curl your toes and throw your head back, claiming for mercy. No one had ever made you feel this way, not even Damon and boy he had a way with the ladies. You were truly amazed. However, Klaus did not give you time to digest what you had just felt, for he still needed his release.

“Just a little more, honey.”

“Cum inside my pussy. I want to feel how is it like to be fulfilled by an Alpha.”

“So smooth with the words, huh?”

Trying to rush things, you wiggled on his lap, this time being fully aware of his tight grip on your waist. A couple of minutes later, he clamped his lower lip between his teeth and screwed his eyes shut, cumming inside of you in hot spurts. But you wanted him to feel at least a third of what you felt, so you clenched your core around him, hearing the deep groan coming out as a response.

“God, I love you so much, Y/N!”

“Aw, I love you too, hun.”

A bit tired, you rolled to the side and closed your eyes for a second, maybe you could get some sleep. After that, it was the kindest thing you could do for your own body. The hybrid pulled you to lay on his chest and started to caress your hair. So lovely. It was the side of him nobody knew except you. And the main reason why you still believed he could be saved. Deep down, all he wanted was to be loved and you were more than happy to do that for him.

You blinked, sleepy, and started to draw small things on Klaus’ chest. Yet, before you could fall asleep completely, your doorbell began to rang and you covered your ears with a pillow.

“Oh, no! Who could it be?”

“Do you want me to answer the door?”

“Nah, I can do it.” You tried to stand, but your legs did not take it so well.  “This is so embarrassing!”

“Put this on.” He threw a robe at me, putting on his own briefs. “I’ll help you get down.”

He picked you up, bridal style and took you downstairs, where the doorbell kept ringing loudly. And, even though you were pissed off about someone ruining your perfect afternoon, you laughed at the way that the blond treated you. If he was trying to spoil you, Klaus was doing it perfectly. Close to the big white door, he put you down and placed a hand on your waist, helping you to stand firmly.

“Now, who is it… Matt?” You widened your eyes staring the man outside. “What are you doing here?”

“What is he doing here?”

“It’s none of your business.” Your best friend, now boyfriend, as you assumed, answered, grumpy. “Now why don’t you leave her alone?”

“Don’t be so rude, Nik! What do you want, Matt?”

“I didn’t want to do this in front of him, but, since I have to, here it goes: I want you back. Ever since we met earlier and you told me you were somebody else, I knew I needed to win you all over again. That’s why I’m here now.”

“Oh.”

“Again, mate, leave her alone. She’s not available.”

“Is that so, Y/N?”

“Yes, Klaus is my boyfriend. We’re together. And I don’t want you back. So get out my house!”

Matt opened his mouth, but was not able to say anything. Eventually, he left and you could not help but be happy you were able to blow him off like. Now your day was perfect. Klaus smiled and massaged your waist, kicking the door so it would close.

“I guess you are already showing me off.”

“I kinda am. But I want to go New Orleans and show you off to a certain bartender.”

“So jealous!”

“No, no! I’m just stating the truth: you’re mine now.”

“I truly am.”

The Mikaelson smiled and you tiptoed, pecking his lips.

“I want to go with you to New Orleans.” You whispered.

“We can go wherever you want to go.”

“I’m sure we can postpone that talk for later, right? Because I’m really feeling ready for a round two.”

“Here or in the bedroom?”

“Oh, on my carpet. This ought to be good!”

Klaus kissed you and, while he did it, you knew you had made the right call. No matter what your other friends thought or how they would react once they find out, that wicked man was your soulmate, your best friend, and no one, absolutely no one, could shake this love out of you. And you could not wait to tell Rebekah all about it. You laughed, getting back to reality and centred your attention on the bright blue eyes in front of you. Under that sight, you knew the fun was just beginning.