~"When reality feels small, I write where the characters I love offer their hands and take me away."
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✦ Writer Status
Astoria or Tori • 20s • Female •Writes to escape reality • 2000s rom-com lover 🍅🍅🍅My mind is stuck in 2008...Some days I post every day. Some days I disappear for months. But I always try to come back and reply.
✦ Content
Feel-good fanfics ✨ (occasional angst) Not explicit , safe for minors
✦ Base of Operations
Tumblr • Quotev
✦ Will NOT Write
incest • step-relations • smut • NSFW age gap • teacher/student dynamics
Summary: you never believed a man like Lucius was capable of caring but it turned out you were the one who was blind all along.
A/n: I know, I know...why would I write for Lucius Malfoy? A lot of people see him as nothing but a villain and tend to portray him that way in most fanfics… but I suppose I’ve always had a bit of a rebellious streak. This is my first Lucius fic, and I’ll admit I’ve always been drawn to characters like him elegant, intimidating, men who carry that “villain” reputation, yet still have a softer side reserved only for the woman they care about. In my mind, they’re the kind of gentlemen who would spoil you without hesitation and somehow still end up completely wrapped around your finger. I promise, though...Severus Snape will be making his appearance very soon for you, Anon in my inbox. I haven’t forgotten
—Astoria
CRYSTAL CLEAR
The annual gathering was in full, glittering swing crystal chandeliers casting warm gold across polished marble floors, the low hum of aristocratic conversation blending with the soft swell of a string quartet. Pure-blood families lingered in elegant clusters, their laughter measured, their glances sharper than their smiles.
It was all tradition, expectation…
And, to you, unbearably dull.
You stood near the edge of the ballroom, half-listening, half-elsewhere, absently tracing the rim of your untouched glass while your attention drifted toward the tall windows overlooking the gardens.
That was when yet another young man approached. He was Charming, Polished, very Eager and Entirely unremarkable.
His dark dress robes were immaculate and his posture carefully practiced that confidence in his smile carried the unmistakable air of someone encouraged far too often by his mother.
“My lady,” he greeted smoothly, offering a shallow bow before taking your hand lightly. “I was beginning to think no one here possessed the courage to rescue you from the dreadful boredom of this evening.”
His lips curved slightly as he straightened.
“I do hope I am not too late to correct that tragedy.”
You offered a polite smile pleasant enough to satisfy etiquette, detached enough to discourage optimism.
“That depends entirely on what you consider a rescue.”
He chuckled softly, clearly deciding your response was flirtation rather than warning.
“Then allow me to prove myself useful.” His hand extended properly this time, inviting. “May I have this dance?”
You barely had time to inhale before another voice drifted smoothly into the space between you.
That Low Refined Dangerously amused voice of no other than....
“Surely,” Lucius Malfoy drawled, stepping forward with effortless authority, “you can see the lady is already otherwise engaged.”
The young wizard stiffened almost immediately, as if he got ice down his spine.
Lucius had not raised his voice, nor altered his elegant composure in the slightest, yet the shift in the air was unmistakable. Conversations nearby quieted subtly, attention turning without appearing to.
Lucius’ silver-topped cane tapped once against the marble as he came to stand beside you, a pale gaze settling coolly upon the unfortunate young man.
“Though,” he continued silkily, “I do admire your persistence. It is rare to witness someone walk so willingly toward humiliation.”
The young man swallowed.
“I meant no disrespect, Mr. Malfoy, I only—”
“Yes,” Lucius interrupted pleasantly, “that was rather obvious.” A faint smile touched his lips, elegant and merciless all at once.
“You saw a beautiful woman standing alone and mistook availability for invitation... A common error among inexperienced men.”
The poor wizard visibly faltered beneath the weight of Lucius’ attention.
“I merely wished to ask for a dance.”
“And now you have.” Lucius tilted his head slightly.
“And received your answer.”
The tense silence lingered longer as The young man glanced toward you once more, clearly uncertain whether to retreat or attempt salvaging his dignity.
Lucius spared him the decision.
“Run along,” he said smoothly, almost kind in tone despite the unmistakable dismissal beneath it. “Before your mother notices you embarrassing your bloodline in public.”
Color rose sharply into the wizard’s face.
With a stiff nod, he stepped back quickly before disappearing into the crowd with far less confidence than he’d arrived with.
Only once he was gone did Lucius finally look at you fully.
One brow lifted ever so slightly.
“You looked moments away from hexing him,” he observed calmly.
Then, after a brief pause, the faintest hint of amusement touched his expression.
“Though I confess, I was rather curious to see which curse you would have chosen.”
a faint, knowing smirk playing at his lips. He adjusted his cuff with deliberate ease, as though he hadn’t just intervened.
“You do have a remarkable talent,” he murmured, voice low enough for only you to hear, “for attracting the most persistent of nuisances.”
His eyes flickered with amusement—teasing, calculating.
“And yet,” he continued, offering his arm at last, “you never seem to rid yourself of them… until I arrive.” he paused just long enough to let the implication linger.
“Tell me,” Lucius added, tilting his head slightly, “should I consider this a coincidence… or have you grown accustomed to being rescued?”
A soft scoff slipped past your lips, though your composure remained flawlessly intact as you turned to face him fully.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Lucius,” you said smoothly, quiet defiance woven elegantly through every word. “I am perfectly capable of removing myself from such… circumstances. I hardly require you to swoop in and play the hero over a single harmless interaction.”
Your gaze flicked briefly toward where the young wizard had vanished into the crowd before returning to him, one brow lifting ever so slightly.
“He was being courteous, nothing more,” you continued lightly, though the deliberate edge beneath your tone remained unmistakable. “Not every conversation warrants your intervention.”
A measured silence settled between them, the orchestra swelling softly in the distance while candlelight danced across polished silver and crystal.
“And you,” you added at last, the faintest knowing curve touching her lips, “are not some gallant knight rescuing a helpless damsel.”
Your eyes held his steadily and unyielding, entirely unimpressed by his presence despite the fact that most of the room practically bent around it.
“So do try not to make a habit of it.”
For a moment, Lucius merely regarded her.
Then, slowly, the corner of his mouth curved, pleased of your answer.
“My dear,” he said softly, almost amused, “if I had any intention of playing the hero, I assure you… you would notice the difference.”
His pale gaze lingered on you for a fraction longer than propriety demanded before he continued with maddening calm.
“And as entertaining as your independence is, you mistake my motives entirely.”
The silver head of his cane turned idly beneath his gloved hand.
“I did not intervene because I believed you incapable.”
“I intervened because he was wasting your time.”
His eyes drifted briefly toward the ballroom where the unfortunate wizard had disappeared.
“A tedious offense,” Lucius mused, “but an offense nonetheless.”
Then his attention returned fully to you, sharp and unreadable beneath the warm chandelier light.
“And if memory serves,” he added smoothly, “you dislike being bored almost as much as I do.”
The faint smile at his lips deepened by the smallest degree.
“Though I confess, hearing you compare me to a gallant knight may be the most imaginative thing said to me all evening.”
Lucius had already begun to turn away effortless, unhurried as though summoning the young man back into his orbit was nothing more than correcting a minor administrative inconvenience.
“Since you insist you do not require my assistance,” he said smoothly, that familiar teasing edge slipping back into place, “I shall rectify my mistake of ever interrupting.”
His hand lifted slightly, fingers poised in a subtle gesture of recall.
Across the ballroom, the young wizard had just begun to glance back—
—but your hand settled against Lucius’ shoulder.
Light.
Yet firm enough to stop him.
“Ah… no, no, no,” you interrupted quickly, your voice steady despite the unmistakable urgency beneath it. “That will not be necessary.”
Lucius paused completely.
Still.
For one suspended moment, he neither turned nor spoke. Around you, the ballroom carried on uninterrupted—music drifting through the air, glasses clinking softly, laughter folding into elegant conversation—but between the two of you, the atmosphere tightened with quiet attention.
Then, slowly, his gaze dropped to your hand resting against his shoulder.
One pale brow lifted slightly.
“Oh?” he murmured at last, voice low and dangerously calm. “So you do require intervention.”
There was amusement there.
Far too much amusement.
Yet he made no move to continue.
Instead, his eyes lifted to yours—sharp, composed, unreadable beneath all that polished charm.
“Or,” he added more softly, almost contemplative now, “perhaps you simply prefer my interference over his company.”
A pause.
Then the faintest hint of a smirk returned to his mouth.
“Careful,” Lucius murmured, leaning in just enough for the words to belong solely to you. “Someone might begin to think you are selective… in ways etiquette does not entirely permit.”
You shut your eyes briefly, exhaling a long sigh of restrained annoyance.
“Lucius,” you said patiently, already exhausted by his games, “please do not torment that poor young man any further.”
Your gaze returned to him evenly.
“And as entertaining as you seem to find this, what exactly is it that you want from me, darling?”
Lucius did not answer immediately.
The word darling—casual, irritated, spoken as though it had slipped out unintentionally—landed with far more precision than your frustration likely intended.
His gaze lowered for the briefest moment, considering it.
Then returned to your face with unhurried calm.
“I want?” he repeated softly, almost amused by the question itself.
Silence stretched delicately between you.
Then, with the faintest lift of his brows, Lucius glanced once toward the crowd where the young wizard had disappeared—already dismissed from thought entirely.
“I believe,” he said smoothly, “you mistake this for being about what I want.”
He stepped slightly closer.
Not enough to invade your space.
Only enough to make ignoring him impossible.
“You looked bored,” he continued simply. “He looked persistent. And I…” the smallest curve touched his mouth, “have always disliked repetition.”
His eyes flicked meaningfully toward your hand still resting on his shoulder.
“…Though interruption, it seems, is hardly a habit exclusive to me.”
The teasing returned lightly, though something quieter lingered beneath it now.
Something more attentive.
“As for the young gentleman,” Lucius continued, voice lowering once more, “I have no intention of troubling him further.”
A deliberate pause followed.
“I merely wished to ensure you were not enduring him out of politeness alone.”
His gaze held yours steadily then, sharp beneath the ballroom light.
“And unless I have severely misjudged you,” he added softly, “you have never struck me as someone who enjoys being trapped in conversations she has already outgrown.”
Then Lucius tilted his head, studying you with that familiar, unreadable poise—half amusement, half something more calculating.
Then Lucius tilted his head slightly, studying you with that familiar unreadable composure half amusement and half calculation.
“And yet you accuse me of playing games,” he murmured smoothly. “Tell me, Y/N… when exactly did you begin mistaking patience for interest?”
You gave a soft scoff, lifting your lace fan once more before snapping it closed with deliberate elegance.
“Since when have you ever possessed patience, Lucius?” you countered lightly. “My, my… this is certainly a revelation.”
Your eyes narrowed just slightly, though amusement still lingered beneath the words.
“You are only patient when you want something.”
Lucius smiled, Not because he was caught but because you had no idea how wrong you truly were. His gaze drifted from your eyes to your lips, lingering there for the briefest fraction too long before returning upward again, composed as ever.
“There it is,” he murmured softly. “The accusation hidden beneath all that elegance.”
The grin that followed was subtle, aristocratic rather than warm, yet somehow more dangerous for its restraint.
“You wound me, Y/N,” he continued smoothly. “To imply my behavior is motivated purely by self-interest.”
The irony coating his tone made it abundantly clear he was confessing to absolutely nothing. Around you, the ballroom shifted into another waltz, strings swelling softly as couples drifted toward the dance floor beneath glittering chandeliers.
Lucius did not so much as glance toward them. His attention remained exactly where it had lingered for years now..On you. And perhaps that was the cruelest thing of all.
You still believed this arrangement existed because ambitious pure-blood parents had exchanged expectations over crystal glasses and ancient family names. That Lucius merely tolerated the idea because it was convenient, Appropriate and Expected for a man his age.
You had never noticed how many conversations he quietly redirected whenever another family expressed interest in you.
How many potential matches mysteriously vanished before ever reaching your ears.
How many times he had listened in cold silence while others suggested dissolving the arrangement entirely due to your reluctance.
Lucius had allowed everyone including you to believe he was indifferent. Because indifference was safe. It could not be weaponized.
His pale eyes met yours once more, sharp with quiet amusement. “And what exactly,” he asked silkily, “do you imagine I want now?”
A dangerous question that could spark a larger fire Not because of the words but because Lucius asked it while looking at you as though the answer had always been painfully obvious.
“Perhaps,” you replied lightly, “you simply wish to please your father.”
Lucius smiled again.
This time slower, More knowing Not offended Nor irritated. If anything, he looked quietly entertained as though he alone possessed the punchline to a joke no one else had yet understood.
Because you were.
Hopelessly, beautifully wrong darling. And Merlin help him, he is beginning to enjoy watching you remain blind to it.
“Mm,” he hummed vaguely, neither agreeing nor denying the accusation. “An excellent theory.” His hand settled against the small of your back with polished familiarity, guiding rather than demanding as he steered you away from the ballroom crowd.
Away from watchful eyes Of circling pure-blood families and exhausting social performances. The tall balcony doors opened smoothly as the cool evening air spilling around you both.
Outside, the noise of the gathering faded into a distant murmur. Moonlight silvered the gardens below while warm gold from the ballroom spilled across the marble terrace behind you, making your dress shimmer like a thousand stars.
Lucius exhaled slowly, loosening by degrees now that there was no audience to perform for. He moved to stand beside you near the balcony railing, one hand resting lightly atop the stone.
“Though,” he said at last, voice quieter now beneath the night air, “if pleasing my father were truly my only objective…” His gaze shifted toward you again.
“There are considerably easier women I could have pursued.” The words settled carefully between you, Lucius looked at your Reaction if it affected you.
It wasn't a compliment or a challenge of regret he placed on you, Lucius Malfoy does not waste effort on things he did not value. And despite every opportunity to walk away he never did, not even once.
His tone remained maddeningly Teasing.
But there was an edge beneath it now. His gaze slid toward you, pale eyes catching the moonlight.
“You are difficult,” Lucius informed you calmly, as though stating an established fact. “Stubborn, Distrustful, ” A faint smirk tugged at his mouth as he described you in a list. “Occasionally insufferable.”
“And yet here I am.” The words settled softer than expected, it was More like confession disguised as amusement.
Lucius rested one hand against the marble railing, studying you with unsettling steadiness.
“Tell me honestly, Y/N,” he murmured. “Have you truly convinced yourself that I would tolerate all of this…” his eyes flicked meaningfully toward the ballroom behind you both, “for anyone else’s sake?”
“For a man ruled so thoroughly by pride…” you murmured, leaning lightly against the marble railing, moonlight spilling silver across the shimmer of your gown, “…I would expect you to back down.”
Your eyes lifted toward him then, calm and challenging all at once.
“Unless, of course,” you added softly, “you intend to convince me otherwise.”
Lucius watched you in silence.
And somehow, that silence betrayed him more than any words could have.
Because Lucius always had something prepared a polished remark, a calculated response, a charming deflection sharp enough to keep everyone precisely where he wanted them.
Silence did not come naturally to him,
Not unless he was caught admiring something longer than intended.
The Moonlight softened the sharp elegance of your features, catching against the delicate fabric of your dress until you looked almost untouchable standing there beneath the night sky.
You probably see yourself normal but to Lucius he is watching a Starlight. Dangerous in entirely different ways.
His gaze lingered openly now, patient and unhurried, before finally returning to your eyes.
“For a man of pride,” he repeated softly scoffing at your words, A slow smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
“You say that as though pride and devotion are somehow incapable of coexisting.”
The word devotion slipped out so smoothly it could almost be mistaken for teasing. Lucius straightened from the railing and stepped toward you. He approached the way aristocrats approached dangerous things with elegance instead of fear.
“I could convince you,” he said quietly, absolute confidence woven effortlessly into every syllable.
“But I suspect you would argue with evidence itself before willingly granting me the satisfaction of being correct.”
One hand lifted then, brushing lightly against a loose strand near your temple.
The touch was gentle and fleeting.
Far too familiar to be innocent Yet restrained enough to remain deniable.
“You believe this arrangement exists to flatter my father,” Lucius continued softly, gaze intent now, “when in truth… he once advised me to end it.”
You looked at him rather intrigued, but not convinced. He could've made it up. Even the distant music from the ballroom seemed to dull slightly beneath the weight of the confession.
Lucius’ expression barely shifted, though faint amusement flickered at the memory.
“He considered waiting for you impractical.”
“And I disagreed.”
'perhaps maybe he's just sayin this' you thought
Yet somehow far more intimate than anything else he had said that evening.
His pale eyes studied your face carefully, as though searching for the exact moment your certainty might finally fracture.
“So no,” Lucius murmured, voice lower now, softer in a way that felt infinitely more dangerous than his teasing ever had, “I do not intend to back down, Darling angel.”
The nickname slipped from his lips effortlessly, Possessive without permission As though he had thought it far longer than he should have.
“Not after spending years enduring your reluctance,” he continued, the faintest smirk returning, “only for you to stand beneath the moonlight looking at me as though you still expect me to walk away.”
He stepped close enough then that the distance between you became impossible to ignore.
“And perhaps,” Lucius added quietly, eyes lowering briefly to your lips before meeting your gaze again, “my pride is precisely the reason I never did.”
She looked at him with small prideful grin. "Is that so, Lucius?" She asked. Her cheeks tinted with pink at the nickname, Lucius has called her alot of nicknames, darling, love, pea and the list could go on and on. Right now, Y/n paused watching his actions, after so long she could tell read him like an open book. She knows when he's lying, tired, jealous, but tight now she could see how his eyes never faltered to miss hers only for him to look down at his last word. Like a vulnerable man confessing a such crimeful confession. Lucius would never let this night end without her. So he go lengths right now. He had enough waiting
“Is that so, Lucius?”
The pride in your smile should have warned him to retreat.
It didn’t.
If anything, it only deepened the dangerous sort of fondness flickering behind his pale eyes.
You were watching him too carefully now.
Lucius could tell by the way your expression shifted—that subtle pause, the quiet observation beneath your composure. Most people only saw what Lucius allowed them to see: confidence, control, polished arrogance wrapped in expensive silk and pure-blood refinement.
But you—
you had known him too long.
You noticed the smallest fractures.
The slight lowering of his gaze after speaking too honestly.
The way his jaw tightened when jealousy stirred beneath his calm.
The exhaustion he concealed beneath posture and pride.
And right now, standing beneath the moonlight with the ballroom forgotten behind you, you were looking at him as though you had finally realized something he had spent years trying not to reveal.
Lucius held your gaze for a moment longer before exhaling quietly through his nose.
There it was again.
That rare crack in composure.
“You are observant tonight,” he murmured, voice lower now.
Dangerously softer.
His hand came to rest beside yours on the railing, gloved fingers only inches away from touching your own. Close enough to tempt. Close enough to imply.
“You wish to know if I am serious?” he asked.
This time there was no teasing smile.
No effortless arrogance to shield himself behind.
“When have I ever looked at another woman the way I look at you?”
The question settled heavily between you.
Because neither of you could answer it.
You had attended these gatherings together for years. Dinners. Galas. Endless pure-blood functions designed to display wealth and legacy like prized jewels.
And Lucius had always remained at your side.
Always watching.
Always intervening.
Always returning to you.
His gaze dipped briefly to your lips before lifting again, slower this time, as though restraint itself had become exhausting.
“I am tired of pretending indifference,” he admitted quietly.
A confession far more intimate than any touch.
“My father calls it pride. My mother calls it obsession.” A faint, humorless smile touched his mouth as he looked at you in the eye, “You, apparently, call it duty.”
He stepped Alittle closer, you could feel his heat, Enough that the cool night air no longer fit between you properly.
“But I have waited for you long enough, Y/N.”
The way he said your name nearly unraveled the composure from the sentence entirely. Lucius lifted a hand then slowly giving you every opportunity to pull away and brushed his knuckles lightly against your cheek.
Such gentleness you believed he would show in dreams and wishes. He wasn't ER known to be gentle judging the cover of the book...how could man known to be cruel be gentle to an angel like you.
Your smiled faltered into a silent shock and confusion you tried your best to hind under your composure, you felt his hand touch your cheek. You didn't pull away instead, you subconsciously leaned on his touch slightly...but not teasingly.
“As much as you enjoy making me suffer,” he murmured, eyes locked onto yours with dangerous sincerity, “I do not intend to leave this balcony tonight wondering whether you finally see me… or merely the arrangement.”
At first you thought he was just saying things but the look on his face said otherwise. You could read Lucius but you never believed your gut. But the sorrow in his eyes that the closeness revealed made you think twice of what you believed in.
"Now I see" she began.
"After all this time...it was never a simple game was it?" You asked, the air shifted to something more serious than the years they had been together.
"What Have i missed?" You asked almost desperate for answers, almost sounding too guilty than you intended to let out. As you leaned on his touch trying to meet his gaze that was pulling away from you, you could tell his pride was bruised because he was showing vulnerability..
The moment you leaned into his touch, however slight, Lucius froze completely.
It was subtle enough that anyone else would have missed it. But not you.
His breath caught so faintly it almost wasn’t there at all, and for the first time that evening, the carefully crafted composure of Lucius Malfoy seemed to fracture under something achingly real.
Your words settled between you both like the final piece of a puzzle neither of you had wanted to touch too closely. His eyes searched yours instantly, intensely, as though terrified and hopeful in equal measure for what would follow.
Lucius gave the smallest shake of his head.
Right now he embrassed in fear you make a joke out his vulnerability while he gripped his stature tightly together like man.
“Never,” he answered quietly. The word sounded almost exhausted As though he had spent years carrying it alone. And when your expression shifted that hint of guilt softening your features Lucius’s own gaze faltered for the briefest second. Vulnerability did not suit him; it sat strangely on a man built from pride and control.
Yet there he was, soft over a girl.
His thumb brushed lightly against your cheekbone, slower now.
“You missed nothing,” Lucius murmured at first automatically, instinctively protecting you from blame, perphaps even guilt.
But then he stopped himself Because that wasn’t entirely true A faint, bittersweet smile touched his lips.
“No…” he corrected softly. “Perhaps you missed the fact that I stopped treating this as an arrangement long before you did.”
His eyes met yours again, and this time he did not look away.
“I made it easy for you not to notice.”
He said honestly
There was no accusation in his voice.
They way he said it, proved you wrong that a man you believe was incapable of love was actually the opposite of what you believed for years of restrained longing pressed carefully behind elegant words.
“I hid behind arrogance because it was simpler than admitting that every time another man approached you, I wanted him gone.” A quiet breath escaped him, almost amused at himself now. “That every gathering became tolerable only once I found you in the room.”
The ballroom music drifted faintly from inside, distant now compared to the quiet intimacy wrapped around the balcony.
Lucius stepped closer until there was hardly space left between you at all.
“You ask what you missed?” he murmured.
His forehead nearly brushed yours now, silver eyes unwavering despite the vulnerability still lingering there.
“You missed a foolish man falling in love with the woman he was supposedly only meant to marry over an arrangement...I lied to myself that won't fall ...in...love with you..yet I am naive enough to know the power of a man heart."
You stood there in utter silent as she looked at Lucius for the first time with softness in your eyes. You actually saw him this way before because she always thought that he was merely an arrogant man all for wealth and status. But seeing this side was the man you always wished he was.
You reached slowly not to startle him, as the music behind them bled to nothingness. You gently cupped his face with your bare hands
Lucius had imagined many versions of this moment over the years, Most ended with your rejection. It he never imagined you your hands gently cradling his face as though he were something precious instead of untouchable.
For a man who carried himself with relentless composure, Lucius suddenly looked devastatingly human beneath your touch.
His eyes closed for the briefest moment at the warmth of your bare hands against his skin, and the breath he released sounded almost shaken as though you had undone him more thoroughly with tenderness than anyone ever could with cruelty.
“You’re foolish for ever wanting that.”
His lashes lifted slowly, silver eyes finding yours again.
And Merlin—
the softness in your gaze nearly ruined him.
“You’re never foolish to want love.”
The words struck somewhere deep beneath years of pride and restraint, somewhere Lucius had buried carefully beneath aristocratic expectations and cold refinement. He had spent so long convincing himself that wanting you silently was safer than hearing you deny him aloud.
Yet here you were.
“As I was always foolish enough to never see past the real Lucius beneath.”
A quiet sound escaped him then not quite a laugh, not quite disbelief. Lucius leaned into your touch ever so slightly before catching himself, though by then it was already too late to reclaim his pride entirely.
“You looked at me,” he murmured softly, “and saw exactly what I allowed everyone else to see.”
“The arrogant heir. The insufferable pure-blood. The man too proud to feel anything sincerely.”
A faint smile touched his lips then, though it lacked its usual sharpness.
“And I let you believe it because I feared the alternative far more.”
His hand lifted slowly, covering one of yours against his cheek.
“If you had looked at me properly years ago,” Lucius admitted, gaze locked helplessly onto yours now, “you would have discovered a man hopelessly devoted to you long before either of us were ready for it.”
The confession lingered between you both, intimate and dangerously honest.
Then Lucius’s expression softened into something achingly fond as his thumb brushed against your wrist.
“But perhaps,” he whispered, voice lower now, “it is fortunate you finally did.”
His eyes flickered briefly to your lips again, restraint visibly thinning.
You smiled softly "I was also foolishly wishing this version of you after these years.... Because never once I believed the facade." You said you slowly leaned in letting him pull away if he wanted to...
Lucius’s gaze searched yours the moment you leaned closer. Not in hesitation but for sincerity. And finding it seemed to unravel the last carefully guarded thread of restraint he had left.
The confession settled warmly against the cool night air, and Lucius gave the faintest shake of his head, almost in disbelief.
“You truly are cruel,” he murmured softly, though there was no sting to it now. “To tell me this after making me wait half my life.”
Yet his voice lacked all its usual arrogance. What remained was quieter and Intimate. At that, something in his expression finally gave way completely with relief
The kind that came from being seen at last. You leaned in slowly, carefully, giving him every opportunity to pull away if he wished.
Lucius did not move. If anything, he closed the distance first. Just enough for his forehead to rest lightly against yours, his breath warm against your lips as one hand settled carefully at your waist like something treasured rather than possessed.
For a moment, he simply stayed there, eyes half-lidded as though savoring the reality of you choosing him willingly.
“You have no idea,” he whispered, voice rougher now, stripped of polish, “how long I have wanted this.”
Then finally almost reverently
Lucius kissed you with years of restrained longing poured into a single impossible moment beneath the moonlight.You kissed him passionately, The moment your lips met his with equal passion, Lucius forgot every carefully rehearsed restraint he had clung to for years.
All the sharp banter, the stolen glances across crowded ballrooms, Every argument laced with tension neither of you dared name aloud, It all dissolved beneath the warmth of your kiss.
A quiet sound escaped him almost helplessly as his hand tightened slightly at your waist, drawing you closer like a man terrified this might vanish if he loosened his hold even for a second.
And Merlin, after all these years of waiting
you were kissing him back as though you had loved him just as long.
The realization struck Lucius with devastating force. His other hand rose instinctively to cradle your face, thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek as he kissed you deeper, slower now, savoring what he had spent years denying himself.
Inside the ballroom, unseen by either of you, the grand doors to the balcony had shifted open just enough for two figures to observe the scene from afar.
Abraxas Malfoy stood with composed dignity, crystal glass resting loosely in hand as his sharp gaze lingered upon his son..Beside him, his wife merely smiled
In A quiet, victorious sort of smile.
Without looking away from the balcony, Abraxas finally inclined his head toward her in silent acknowledgment.
Accepting the fact his wife was right once more. Because this had never been politics to Lucius And perhaps it never had been.
Outside beneath the moonlight, Lucius slowly pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours once more as he tried unsuccessfully to regain the composure you had utterly ruined.
His pale eyes searched your face almost greedily now, as though afraid he might wake from this.
Then, breathless and faintly disbelieving, Lucius let out a quiet laugh.
“You realize,” he murmured softly against your lips, “after this, I shall become completely intolerable.”
Lucius looked down at you as though the rest of the world had ceased to matter entirely. The moonlight softened the usually sharp lines of his features, but nothing could soften the way he watched you now openly affectionate, hopelessly captivated, and just arrogant enough to enjoy the fact that you were finally looking at him the same way.
“As though that were conceivable… you were always intolerable.”
A quiet laugh slipped past his lips at that, low and warm, far too pleased with himself for a man being insulted.
“hmmm I was beginning to worry affection had made you gentle.” Lucius said
His thumb brushed lazily along your waist while his gaze lingered on your face with shameless fondness.
“What worse would you go for lengths?”
Lucius’s expression shifted into a grin
“For you?” he repeated softly. He tilted his head slightly, studying you as though the answer should already be obvious by now.
“Everything.”
The word came without hesitation.
And somehow that sincerity was far more overwhelming than any flirtation he had offered before.
“If another man so much as breathes in your direction too fondly, I shall despise him on principle,” Lucius informed you calmly. “If my father attempts to delay this arrangement further, I will personally ensure he regrets it.” A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “And if you continue looking at me like that, I may very well forget we are standing on a public balcony" he stressed his last words in sultry tone. Making you giggle.
His forehead rested lightly against yours again.
“I have spent years pretending patience,” he murmured. “Do not expect me to behave modestly now that I know you love me too.”
Dear.Merlin!.that possessive softness in his voice... that only ever existed for you. Is something to die for you thought.
Lucius’s hand lifted, brushing gently beneath your chin as his pale eyes searched yours once more.
“You asked what lengths I would go to,” he whispered.
Then, with quiet devotion wrapped beneath every word:
“I would spend the rest of my life proving that choosing me was not a mistake.”
Lucius drew you against him instinctively the moment you leaned into his chest, as though your place there had always been reserved long before either of you admitted it aloud.
His hand settled securely at your waist while the other remained over yours against his chest, where beneath layers of silk and composure, his heartbeat betrayed him entirely.
You laughed softly, and Lucius looked down at you with the kind of expression few people would ever believe he possessed, pure Adoration.
“Careful,” he murmured, brushing his lips lightly against your temple, “you are becoming far too comfortable with me.”
Yet his hold tightened ever so slightly, contradicting every teasing word.
Inside the ballroom, the Malfoy matriarch gave her husband a single pointed look the sort only a wife of many years could master perfectly.
In A silent: I told you so.
Abraxas Malfoy merely grumbled into his goblet, clearly unimpressed with the fact that his carefully composed heir had apparently inherited something as inconvenient as genuine devotion.
“Fine, fine… yes,” he muttered with dramatic reluctance. “They will marry.”
Lucius’s mother clasped her hands together with unmistakable delight, unable to conceal her satisfaction any longer.
Because unlike the men in their family, she had noticed it years ago.
The way Lucius searched every room for you first, The way his voice softened only around you hidden behind distain.. The way no other match had ever truly interested him no matter how suitable.
Mrs. Malfoy knew.
Outside beneath the moonlight, unaware of the conversation happening within, Lucius rested his chin lightly atop your head for the briefest moment.
And for once in his life Lucius Malfoy looked completely at peace.
All those years of waiting.
Of pretending, standing beside you while wanting far more Was Entirely worth it.
Because in the end, Lucius had gotten the one thing pride, wealth, and status could never simply hand him.
A/n: I’ve been gone for quite a long, long time, and writing this again reminded me just how much I still adore our favorite hybrid. Life’s been a bit of a bumpy road lately moving around, adjusting to new things, and discovering more twists than I ever expected. A proper rollercoaster of events… or as some might say, a string of unfortunate ones. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned from our beloved Originals, it’s this: they dust themselves off, wipe the blood from their chins, and keep walking like they were born to own the world. So I suppose I’ll take that lesson with me too. I really hope you enjoy this fanfic as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also… I unexpectedly now want a hamster to dress up, so that’s a development.This was inspired by one of my OC stories And my anons request I’ve had in mind for a while, which is why the reader might feel a little different this time around.—Tori
TEACHING MR. PATIENCE
You has always been and always will be an animal lover. You hated cruelty toward innocent creatures long before you were turned back in the ’50s, and you never lost the fire for it. Hunters who killed for sport always managed to pull that fury straight out of you, no matter how long you have lived or how well you learned to hide it.
You been Nik’s lover since Chicago, you quietly slipped your way into his life like you always belonged there. And somehow, you stayed despite all the chaos and the unforgivable events. You somehow understood after all life's package is always ups and down, it just happens your life is rather a broken railed Rollercoaster when it comes with Niklaus.
Present day
Nik had been going on and on about it again everyone always telling him he needed more patience, as if it were that simple. He’d been yapping about it all night.
You listened from your spot on the couch, with a glass of Scotch in hand, swirling it lazily as you watched him pace near the fireplace.
“Would you actually try it if I taught you patience?” you asked, with a calm and teasing voice. Nik stood by the fire, staring into the flames like they might spit and give him answers he didn’t ask for.
Niklaus let out a low scoff, swirling the bourbon in his glass with unnecessary force. The amber glow of the flames danced across his features, sharpening the irritation carved into his expression.
“Patience,” he repeated bitterly. “Funny word, love. Rebekah says I lack it, Elijah lectures me about it, and Marcel—” he rolled his eyes dramatically, “—Marcel suddenly believes himself wise enough to speak on my temperament.”
His gaze flickered toward you sprawled lazily across the sofa, your feet resting on the coffee table as though the world itself had never once managed to disturb your peace, he knew it was rare for you relax given a chance to breathe without anyone tying to kill you or you killing someone... twenty four seven infinite... the sight is actually a sight to see.
Slowly, he turned from the fire to look at you fully, brows lifting with amused disbelief, A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips almost immediately.
“Oh?” he murmured, voice rich with intrigue. “And how exactly do you intend to teach a thousand-year-old hybrid patience?”
He crossed the room unhurriedly now, though there was still that familiar predator’s grace in every step. Setting his glass down, he leaned over the back of the sofa behind you, one hand braced near your shoulder.
“Because if memory serves,” he said softly near your ear, “the last time you attempted to ‘teach’ me something, we ended up banned from a jazz club in Chicago.”
A quiet chuckle escaped him before his expression softened faintly.
“You know,” Klaus admitted, eyes drifting toward you with something gentler beneath the arrogance, “you’re perhaps the only creature on this earth who could speak to me of patience without boring me to death.”
His fingers brushed absentmindedly along your arm.
“So then, sweetheart…” he tilted his head, gold-flecked eyes studying you carefully, “what lesson comes first?”
You looked at him, before diverting her gaze on her glass of scotch glowing embers by the fireplace
"well...I can't teach you like how people would.. it won't come in with a black board a chalk but I rather give you something.... you'll need patience for" you said...
Klaus watched you carefully, his expression shifting from amusement to curiosity. The fire cracked softly behind him, casting warm gold across the room while your scotch caught the light like liquid amber in your hand.
He hummed thoughtfully at your words.
“Something I’ll need patience for?” he repeated, slower this time, tasting the idea.
His hand slid from the back of the sofa to your shoulder before he moved around it entirely, lowering himself onto the cushion beside you. Close enough for the scent of smoke, whiskey, and old paint still lingering on his clothes to wrap around you.
“That sounds dangerously vague, darling.”
There was a teasing glint in his eyes now, though softer than before. Less the infamous Mikaelson temper and more the man who had spent decades learning your silences.
“You know,” he murmured, taking the glass gently from your hand just to steal a sip, “when you speak like this, it usually ends with me either covered in blood… or carrying furniture.”
A faint grin tugged at his lips as he handed the drink back.
“But continue. You have my attention.”
For once, there was no impatience in him. No pacing. No snapping remarks about his siblings or enemies or the burden of immortality.
Just Klaus watching you beside the fire like you were the only thing in the world worth listening to.
"a pet" you said.
Klaus furrowed his brows he knew that you loves animals very much that you would kill a village of hunters for it If it meant cruelty.
You would never inflict on someone who hunted for survival after all it is fair, because everyone is a prey to a predator.
"It would teach you patience" you said
Klaus stared at you for a long moment, almost waiting for the punchline that never came.
“A pet,” he repeated flatly.
The hybrid leaned back against the sofa, one arm stretched along the cushions behind you while he studied your face carefully.
You looked entirely serious and Certainof your words That alone made him nervous.
A disbelieving laugh escaped him under his breath. “Love, I have endured wars, betrayals, daggers to the heart, and a thousand years of my siblings testing my sanity…” he gestured vaguely with his hand, “and you believe the answer to my temperament is a pet?”
Yet even as he spoke, he already knew this mattered to you.
He knew the look in your eyes whenever you found wounded strays hidden in alleyways. Knew the fury that simmered beneath your skin whenever hunters killed for amusement rather than survival. He had seen you slaughter men twice your size for laying cruel hands on defenseless creatures and never once regretted helping you hide the bodies afterward.
To you, animals were innocence untouched by mankind’s ugliness.
And somehow… you still believed there was enough humanity left in him to trust him with one.
Klaus’s expression softened despite himself.
“You’re serious,” he murmured.
The realization settled fully now, and he looked almost offended by it.
“You genuinely wish to place some poor unsuspecting creature into my care and hope it survives.”
But there was no bite behind the sarcasm anymore.
His thumb brushed against his lower lip thoughtfully before his eyes narrowed at you with suspicion.
“This wouldn’t happen to involve another one of those horrid little dogs that bark at shadows, would it?” he asked carefully.
“Because if I am to suffer through this lesson in patience, I refuse to be terrorized in my own home by something the size of a teacup.”
"well, I plan to work my way up... you'll be lucky if I start with a puppy" you said with a grin.
That alone made nik furrow his brows in wonder and concern, because right now he doesn't know what was going on in your mind. He knew that grin and it totally stated you had a plan.
The first Change was implemented the very next day
You walked into the grand, dramatic Mikaelson Household as if you weren’t about to disrupt a thousand years of intensity.
The tiny creature sat lazily in your palm as you approached Klaus. You held it out to him.
“Here,” you said sweetly. “His name is Sir Nibbles.”
Klaus stared at the hamster. Then at you. Then back at the hamster.
“…You brought a rodent into my home.”
You raised a brow. “its a hamster....Consider it a test.”
His eyes narrowed slightly. “A test.”
“To see if you have patience,” you clarified. “You agreed."
His breath hitched, that was just a conversation that he mentioned in them Middle of the night.
The great hybrid, feared by many, stared down at a hamster no bigger than his hand.
“…It blinks rather aggressively,” he muttered, You smiled at the little hamster.
Klaus exhaled slowly the kind of breath he took before war councils or executions. But instead of crushing the fragile thing, he adjusted his hold. Two fingers curved gently around it, carefully.
“I have held swords steadier than this,” he muttered, though there was the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes. You crossed your arms giving him a look
"I don't want him hurt alright... he's very cuddly.." She placed the enclosure on the table.
"Feed it, clean it, take care of it" you instructed.
Klaus looked from you to the absurdly small creature now sitting in his palm, its nose twitching without a care in the world.
The room itself felt ridiculous for this moment ancient paintings, dim chandeliers, the weight of a thousand years hanging in the walls of the Mikaelson compound…
…and in the middle of it stood an Original vampire being handed a hamster named Sir Nibbles.
“Astonishing,” Klaus murmured dryly. “Truly. I conquer kingdoms only to be reduced to rodent stewardship.”
Sir Nibbles blinked up at him.
Klaus blinked back.
The hamster shifted suddenly in his hand and the hybrid visibly stiffened, his shoulders going rigid like he’d just felt a dagger at his throat.
“It moved.”
You gave him a look. “Yes, Nik. That’s generally what living things do.” you said with a tone of sarcasm and annoyance.
His jaw tightened at your amusement while he carefully lowered the hamster toward the enclosure you’d placed on the table. The tiny thing climbed halfway up his sleeve before he could stop it.
Klaus froze in genuine alarm.
“…Y/n.”
You bit back a laugh. “What?”
“It’s climbing me.”
“Well! don’t fling him across the room!”
“I....I'm not...I'm not,” Klaus hissed indignantly, holding his arm out with the seriousness of a battlefield injury. “I’m assessing the situation.”
Sir Nibbles continued crawling up his sleeve entirely unbothered.
For a terrifying second, Klaus Mikaelson the monster kings whispered about for centuries looked almost helpless.
Then you stepped closer, gently scooping the hamster from his arm. Klaus watched your hands carefully, the ease in your movements, the softness.
“Feed it, clean it, take care of it,” you reminded him.
His eyes lifted slowly to yours.
“You do realize,” he said, voice low and dramatic, “that my siblings will never allow me to recover from this humiliation.”
As if summoned by fate itself, Kol’s laughter suddenly echoed from somewhere upstairs.
“Oh, this is brilliant!” Kol shouted. “Nik’s got a pocket rat!”
Klaus closed his eyes briefly.
“I’m going to kill him.”
“You’re proving my point already,” you said smugly.
That earned you a narrow-eyed stare.
But then Sir Nibbles curled comfortably against Klaus’s palm again, tiny paws pressing against his thumb.
And despite all his complaining… Klaus adjusted his hold instinctively to keep the creature warm.
At first, Nik despise the schedule of looking after the hamster, It started with complaints. Endless, theatrical complaints.
Klaus complained about the smell of hamster feed. About the squeaking wheel at ungodly hours. About how a creature with “the intelligence of wet parchment” somehow required more maintenance than half his siblings.
And yet…
Every morning, the food bowl was filled.
And it's enclosure was spotless. And somehow, mysteriously, Sir Nibbles began acquiring things.
Tiny blankets, A miniature wooden castle, A ludicrously small silver dish. By the second week, you walked into the study only to stop dead in the doorway.
You looked at him in utter suprise and as you furrowed your brows.
Klaus sat at his desk in complete concentration, sketchbook abandoned to the side while Sir Nibbles sat proudly on his shoulder wearing a tiny felt knight costume.
A handmade felt knight costume.
Klaus noticed immediately and looked up without shame whatsoever.
“What?”
Your lips twitched violently. “Nik…”
“What?” he repeated defensively, reaching up so the hamster could climb into his hand. “He looked cold.”
“The tiny cape?”
“It completes the armor.”
You laughed outright now, leaning against the doorway while Klaus glared at you with false annoyance.
“He’s a hamster, not a crusader.”
Klaus looked down at Sir Nibbles thoughtfully.
“Well, he possesses bravery, besides why will you name him Sir Nibbles, he must live up to his name to be called a Sir” he said matter-of-factly.
“Kol attempted to poke him yesterday and he bit him.”
“Of course he did.”
“There’s spirit in him.”
Sir Nibbles perched proudly in Klaus’s palm as though fully aware he’d earned the approval of one of the deadliest beings on earth.
It was absurd..Worse I can say it was adorable...darling don't tell Nik that.
Klaus rose from the chair, carrying the hamster with absurd gentleness before stopping in front of you.
“You planned this,” he accused quietly.
You lifted a brow innocently. “Planned what?”
“This.” He gestured vaguely between himself and the tiny knight hamster. “Getting me attached to the foul little creature.”
Sir Nibbles squeaked.
Klaus instantly softened, thumb absentmindedly stroking the hamster’s tiny head.
Your grin widened.
“There’s the patience I was talking about.”
Klaus rolled his eyes, though there was no venom behind it anymore.
“I still maintain,” he muttered, “that this is emotional manipulation.”
"Is that so?" Y/n asked.
So...you notched up the challenge Then came the puppies. Two energetic, furry balls of tail-wagging bundles of chaos that immediately treated the thousand-year-old hybrid like a climbing structure.
The floor he once stained with the blood of enemies. Now occupied by squeaky toys He endured the licking, The clumsy paws and The incessant need for attention, the cries and barks.
You told him it's part of his lessons
But really, you bought the puppies because you found out that the pet shop was discarding them soon and you couldn't stand seeing them homeless, you assumed he doesn't know that....
He had survived betrayal, daggers to the chest, centuries of enemies, and Mikaelson family dinners.
But nothing, I say nothing could have prepared him for the destruction of two puppies racing through the compound like tiny furry hurricanes. One had claimed his boots as its mortal enemy, The other had decided Elijah’s expensive suits were ideal for sleeping on.
And somehow, against all logic, the house had adapted to them.
The grand Mikaelson compound now echoed with barking, squeaky toys, and Rebekah complaining every five minutes about fur on the furniture.
Klaus sat in the middle of the lounge one evening looking deeply offended while one puppy gnawed lazily on the sleeve of his henley.
“You are testing my patience,” he informed you for perhaps the tenth time that week.
You merely sipped your drink. “And?”
The puppy yipped at him.
Klaus narrowed his eyes at it. “Do not mock me, Darling....”
The other puppy stumbled clumsily into his lap before immediately falling asleep against his stomach. You watched his entire expression soften against his will.
“…This one may stay,” he muttered quietly.
You smiled to yourself What amused you most was that Klaus truly tried. He acted as though caring for them was some dreadful burden forced upon him by fate itself. Yet every night when one whimpered at the door to pee or simply to join both you in the bedroom, he was the first to rise.
Every morning, he checked their food bowls before his own drink. And when one became frightened during a thunderstorm, Klaus spent nearly two hours sitting on the floor beside the couch with the trembling pup tucked inside his coat.
Naturally, he denied all affection immediately afterward.
It was also a good exercise for Nik.... However it wasn't Nik who seem to enjoy the company of the two dogs...
it was Elijah.
Elijah have been very keen, and secretly keeping the dogs to himself, of course he knows it was part of Niks lessons but no matter how much the Original Vampire Denies, he has a soft spot for dogs.
You discovered it accidentally one afternoon when the house had gone suspiciously quiet.
Which in the Mikaelson household usually meant either murder… or Kol.
Instead, you found Elijah in the library.
The dignified Original sat elegantly in an armchair reading, one puppy asleep in his lap while the other lazily chewed the edge of his handkerchief.
“Elijah,” you said slowly.
He looked up calmly. “Hm?”
“The dogs are with you.”
“Yes,” he replied simply, scratching behind one puppy’s ears with absurd gentleness.
You blinked.
From the doorway, Klaus looked personally betrayed.
“Oh, this is ridiculous,” he scoffed. “I am the one enduring this so-called lesson in patience and somehow you’ve stolen my dogs.”
Elijah lifted a brow without looking remotely guilty.
“Our dogs,” he corrected smoothly.
Klaus stared at him in horror.
“You named them, didn’t you?”
A pause.
“…Perhaps.”
“You named them.”
Elijah closed his book carefully. “The brown one responded favorably to Wellington.”
Klaus looked physically ill hearing that sentence.
“And the other?”
Elijah glanced down fondly at the sleeping puppy.
“Lord Byron.”
“Oh, brilliant! Elijah’s become a Victorian widow with lapdogs!” Kol piped
“Kol,” Elijah warned calmly.
But Klaus was already glaring at you with deep suspicion.
“This was your plan all along,” he accused. “Turn my immortal family into sentimental fools through weaponized animals.”
One of the puppies waddled toward Klaus then, tail wagging furiously before crashing directly into his leg.
Klaus sighed dramatically.
Then bent down without hesitation to pick it up.
You shrugged innocently
"after all you are a depressing family...the dogs fits the picture" you said chin held high.
"And who says their weaponized? You'll thank me if you're family starts feeling alot better with good company" you said confidently that your little experiment has purpose.
Klaus let out an offended scoff at that, one hand resting beneath the puppy as it clumsily attempted to chew the buttons on his sleeve.
“A depressing family?” he repeated incredulously. “Darling, we are an iconic family.”
From the armchair, Elijah murmured without looking up from his book, “Niklaus once compelled an entire opera audience because someone coughed during his favorite performance.”
Klaus pointed accusingly at him. “They were ruining the atmosphere.”
“And Kol set a piano on fire because he disliked the musician,” Elijah continued calmly.
You folded your arms with triumph written all over your face.
“Exactly my point...." You said but when you looked at your lover to counter the banter you found him distracted to the puppy, Klaus looked deeply insulted while the puppy in his arms suddenly licked his jaw. Slowly, very slowly, his expression cracked into reluctant amusement.
“Oh, you manipulative little beast,” he muttered to the dog The puppy wagged harder like it was told he got a prize.
You watched the scene with quiet satisfaction. For all their immortality, the Mikaelsons had spent centuries drowning in grief, vengeance, paranoia. Every room in this house had once felt heavy with old ghosts.
Now there were dog toys beneath antique tables. Tiny paw prints across polished floors. And Elijah Mikaelson — the perpetually composed Original — absentmindedly baby-talking a puppy when he thought no one could hear him.
Klaus glanced toward you then, reading the softer emotion behind your teasing far too easily.
“You did this because you pitied them didn't you? ” he said quietly
You know he was good on reading you, finding out the truth..You shrugged again, though less casually this time. “The shop owner said nobody wanted them. They were going to toss them out soon.”
Klaus’s expression darkened instantly at the thought, centuries-old rage flashing behind his eyes in that terrifying way only Originals could manage.
“They discard living creatures?” he asked coldly.
You nodded once.
Elijah sighed softly, already knowing that somewhere in Town, a pet shop owner’s future had become significantly more unfortunate.
But then you continued gently, “I just thought… maybe this house could use something innocent in it for once.”
Klaus looked around the room at Elijah with a sleeping puppy curled against him, at the second dog sprawled comfortably across his lap, at the ridiculous squeaky toy near the fireplace beside centuries-old furniture.
Then his gaze returned to you
“You’ve been in our lives for decades,” he murmured. “And somehow you still insist on believing there’s something worth saving in us.”
You smirked faintly. “Well… someone has to make sure you all don’t turn into dramatic cave bats.”
Rebekah taunted from upstairs, “TOO LATE!”
Elijah pinched the bridge of his nose.
At some point, Niklaus realized the lesson had stopped being about patience, Because patience had come surprisingly fast.
The dogs no longer chewed furniture or barked throughout the night. Under Elijah’s strangely aristocratic discipline, they had become terrifyingly well-behaved. Loyal and Protective. Smart enough to recognize threats before anyone else did.
One hunter had learned that the hard way after attempting to sneak through the compound gates only to be chased clear into the bayou by two snarling “lapdogs.”
Klaus had laughed for nearly ten minutes.
“No, no, let them continue,” he’d said while the man screamed somewhere in the distance. “Builds them character.”
The hamster, however, remained his favorite. Though Klaus denied it relentlessly. Sir Nibbles had somehow earned permanent access to Klaus’s study, often perched on his shoulder while he painted like some tiny royal advisor. The absurd little knight costume had evolved too, upgraded stitching, miniature faux armor, even a ridiculous velvet cape Rebekah claimed Klaus had sewn himself.
He denied that accusation too.
Naturally.
But the cat… was a different tale...
The cat arrived one rainy evening without warning, carried casually in your arms while water dripped from your coat onto the compound floors.
“It followed me home,” you explained.
Klaus had known instantly that the creature was evil, calculated and often greedy. It had looked him directly in the eyes upon entering the house and immediately chosen violence.
Within two days it had:
scratched Kol, stolen Elijah’s handkerchief,
slept on Rebekah’s dresses, and broken into Klaus’s paint supplies like a tiny furry criminal mastermind. And yet somehow, the worst offense came that evening in the study.
Klaus had been painting quietly for hours. Music low, the Fire crackling softly nearby. For once genuinely at peace. Then the cat leapt elegantly onto the desk.
Straight onto the canvas with the Pawprints across wet paint. The cat sat directly atop the half-finished painting, curled neatly as though it had personally improved the artwork.
Klaus stared at it with the expression of a man resisting homicide through sheer spiritual strength.
“You insolent creature,” he murmured darkly.
The cat only blinked once, not giving the care of the world about his presence or what he does, or did for that matter, it Then deliberately tucked its paws beneath itself and settled more comfortably.
From the doorway, you bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing.
Knowign the look on Klaus was seconds away from disaster, he badly wanted to throw the feline through the wall but unfortunately you were watching him.
…instead, after a very long silence, Klaus simply sighed the sigh of a man realizing fate had defeated him personally.
“You’ve done this intentionally,” he accused the cat.
The cat purred in response.
“Oh, that’s humiliating,” Rebekah whispered from behind you, since that day she became obsessed.
The cat now possessed glittering collars,
tiny jeweled tags, an absurd pink cushion,
and more affection than most humans received in a lifetime.
“She’s a princess,” Rebekah insisted while brushing the cat’s fur one afternoon.
“She’s a tyrant,” Klaus corrected from across the room. The cat immediately abandoned Rebekah’s lap, jumped onto Klaus’s chair, and curled against his side while he read, Niklaus not once touched the cat. Because according to him it was greedy he could smell the evil from it.
“Oh my god,” she whispered dramatically. “It chose him.”
“It absolutely did not.”
The cat began purring louder.
Elijah hid a smile behind his bourbon glass clearly pleased to his brother holding back from actually throwing the car across the room, he knew Niklaus won't break his streak of good Patience for one little inconvience, call it pride, call it whatever you want, one thing for sure he didn't want to disappoint his queen... you.
You watched it all from the sofa, realizing something quietly remarkable had happened to the Mikaelsons. The compound no longer felt like a mausoleum haunted by immortals.
Now there were scratching posts beside ancient vases, Dog toys beneath antique furniture, Tiny hamster footsteps in Klaus’s study. And a spoiled cat currently sleeping on the shoulder of the most feared hybrid in history.
Klaus caught your expression from across the room.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“This is no longer a lesson, is it?”
You smiled into your drink.
“No,” you admitted softly. “I think this is just your life now.”
Nik scoffs Dakin a displeasure.
—
Kol Mikaelson was offended of this arrangement, in the household he was the only one feeling what he called 'lonely'
According to him you quoted, he was Deeply Personally offended.
“This is discrimination,” he declared loudly from across the compound lounge while sprawled upside down over the sofa like a Victorian woman suffering from heartbreak.
“Everyone else gets a companion and I’m treated like some unstable gremlin.”
“You are an unstable gremlin,” Rebekah answered immediately while adjusting the glittering collar around the cat’s neck. The cat looked smug about it.
Klaus sat nearby with Sir Nibbles perched comfortably on his shoulder beneath the collar of his henley like a tiny furry monarch. One finger absently scratched beneath the hamster’s chin while he read.
The hypocrisy of it all was astounding.
Kol pointed accusingly. “Nik literally massacred villages.”
“In fairness,” Elijah said calmly from his armchair, “Niklaus does not attempt to eat his pets.”
Klaus looked up slowly. “Only because Sir Nibbles possesses dignity.” The hamster squeaked proudly, which now had mirrored his owner's mannerism and personality.
Kol threw his arms into the air. “I have dignity!” At that exact moment, the cat lunged without warning toward Klaus’s shoulder. Klaus stood so fast the chair nearly toppled backward while Sir Nibbles vanished into the safety of his palm.
“You vile little demon!” Klaus snapped.
The cat landed elegantly on the table, entirely unashamed.
Rebekah gasped in horror and scooped the cat up immediately. “the Princess didn’t mean it!”
“the Princess attempted murder! If it were in the 15th century she he hanged!”
“She was playing!”
“She was hunting! There's a bloody difference!” Nik snapped. Klaus narrowed his eyes murderously at the feline while carefully checking Sir Nibbles for emotional damages. The hamster appeared mildly inconvenienced at worst.
You sat watching the entire thing unfold with your drink in hand, entirely unsurprised By now the household had somehow developed into a bizarre ecosystem:
Elijah ran the dogs like disciplined soldiers, Rebekah treated the cat like royalty, Klaus guarded Sir Nibbles with the intensity of a dragon protecting treasure.
And Kol… well...
He..sulked.
“Y/nnnnnnnnn” he whined dramatically, dropping beside you on the sofa, “you wound me deeply. Why does everyone believe I’d harm an innocent creature?”
You slowly turned your head toward him.
Kol smiled sheepishly and charmingly at you, that the sight reminded you of a child who begged to be given one cookie from the cookie jar after getting caught red handed seconds ago.
It was not reassuring Your expression alone answered him It was loud enough that words wasn't necessary.
Kol groaned loudly. “That was centuries ago!”
“You ate someone’s emotional support cow in 1912,” You reminded him without looking up.
“It was aggressive.”
“It was jeweled, Kol. It was loved. Can't you tell by its grooming?" You asked.
Elijah calmly sipped his bourbon. “You also killed a Lord's Peacock to see how much the man who shed tears over a bird.”
“That was innovative.”
“And you named a snake ‘Tiny Richard’ before purposely losing it in Spain,” Rebekah added.
Kol pointed at her furiously. “That was ONE time.”
You gave him another look.
Kol deflated dramatically into the cushions.
“This family refuses to let me grow.”
You weren't convinced of his dear begging, but Then one of the dogs trotted over and dropped a slobbery toy into Kol’s lap.
The dog wagged its tail hopefully.
Slowly, suspiciously, Kol picked up the toy.
“You trust me?” he asked the dog quietly.
The dog barked happily Everyone in the room went still watching him, especially Elijah because...it was unofficially his dog.
Kol looked personally moved by the experience Then the dog immediately stole the toy back and ran. Kol gasped in betrayal "clearly you are Elijah's mutt. Well trained brother, you taught it to kill someone's Heart without words"
Klaus burst into laughter so suddenly Sir Nibbles nearly climbed into his hair.
As much as you won't back down on your promise about giving Kol a pet you just couldn't.
But Rebekah told you that maybe you should test Kol. After all you did manage to stretch and teach Niks temper Alittle with Sir Nibbles.
So one day,
Kol was mid-complaint when you walked into the kitchen. He was leaning against the counter, gesturing wildly with a spoon like it was a ceremonial blade, while Elijah calmly prepared tea as though chaos want always at his doorstep.
“This is what I’m saying,” Kol insisted, “there is a clear bias in this household dynamic. Nik gets a hamster, Elijah gets canine soldiers, Rebekah gets a jeweled menace, and I get—”
You set the empty enclosure down on the counter in front of him, with a soft this The sound interrupted him instantly.
That Kol paused looking at the enclosure trying to understand what was inside. He
Looked at it thenLooked at you.
“…A glass box,” he said slowly.
“Show me you can fill its bowl and water it,” you replied evenly, hands clasped behind your back.
Kol squinted. “Is this a trick?"
“No.”
Elijah’s eyes flicked up briefly, immediately sensing deception but choosing, wisely, not to intervene.
Kol leaned closer to the enclosure.
“It’s… suspiciously clean.”
“That’s the point.”
Kol straightened, instantly suspicious. “Why do I feel like I’m being evaluated for parole?”
You tilted your head slightly. “Because you are.”
He scoffed. “I am perfectly capable of caring for—”
You revealed nothing as you listened to him Kol felt like you were seconds away from changing your mind. Kol narrowed his eyes, then slowly reached toward the enclosure like it might bite him.
“You’ve become just as controlling as Klaus,” he muttered.
“Careful,” Elijah said mildly, “that is the closest thing to praise you will ever receive from her.”
Kol shot him a look Then he sighed dramatically.
“Fine. I’ll accept your ridiculous challenge.”
“…What exactly is it?”
You smiled faintly. "Oh,” you said lightly, “just something small.”
Kol frowned, “Define small.” you reached behind your back, revealing your left hand
And placed a second, slightly larger enclosure beside the first.
Inside was....A chinchilla.
A Soft, Round gray, fuzzball of a chinchilla chewing on a twig slowly
“…That is not small,” he said flatly.
The chinchilla hopped once hearing his voice, it raise its nose to smell
Kol leaned closer in interest, as the rodent
stared back.
“…It looks judgmental.”
“It is,” you confirmed.
Kol slowly turned his head toward you. “You gave Nik a hamster.”
“Yes.”
“And you gave me… a fluffy squirrel with attitude.”
“It’s a chinchilla.”
“It’s a fluffy squirrel with capitalism in its eyes.”
Elijah coughed once into his hand to hide a smile.
Kol pointed at the creature. “What is its name.”
You hesitated just long enough.
“Snack.”
Kol stared at you, because he knew you were probably messing with him but as part of your humor, you held back your laugh keeping a straight face while at it.
He looked at the chinchilla.
Then back at you again.
“…Snack,” he repeated.
You nodded, Kol exhaled sharply through his nose, like he was physically trying not to lose a war with a rodent.
“Of course it’s Snack,” he muttered. “Because my life is now a series of humiliations curated by you.”
You stepped closer and tapped the enclosure gently. “Water. Bowl. That’s all for now.”
Kol frowned but reached in anyway, grabbing the little dish with exaggerated caution.
The chinchilla immediately climbed onto his wrist.
Kol froze.
“Elijah.”
“Yes?” Elijah replied calmly.
“It’s climbing me.”
Elijah didn’t look up from his tea. “Then it appears you have been accepted.”
Kol looked personally offended by that concept, he feared the chinchilla for a moment. Instead he froze right there in one position.
Meanwhile, across the compound, Klaus’s voice suddenly echoed from the hallway:
“IF THAT CAT GETS NEAR SIR NIBBLES AGAIN I WILL END IT.”
“SHE WAS ONLY CURIOUS!”
[Sir Nibbles: squeak of royal indignation]
Kol, still holding Snack on his arm, slowly looked at you.
“…Do I at least get a costume?”
You smiled innocently.
“That depends on your performance.”
"Preferably a Skeleton make it glow" he said wiggling his brows
Hiya! I hope your doing amazing! I was wondering if your okay with doing klaus or Elijah mikaelson x girlfriend reader where the reader is living with the whole mikaelson family and the reader is very much an animal person. Like her and Klaus already have two dogs and a cat but one night she comes home with a hamster and a bearded dragon. And when Klaus asks why because they already have enough pets she basically says that she doesn’t care and that she wants more pets plus they where on sale because they’ve been there awhile and no one wants them. And Kol finds out and thinks it’s hilarious. Sorry it’s so long!
I hope you have a lovely day/night!
𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader
𝙶e𝚗𝚛𝚎: FLUFF
𝚆o𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 6.2k
A/n: Hey Anon I absolutely loved your request, so much so that I couldn’t help but write you two versions of it. I’m really sorry it took me what feels like a small eternity to get this back to you… time has a funny way of slipping off the clock, doesn’t it? If you’re reading this, I hope life immortal or otherwise is treating you beautifully. I genuinely hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed putting it together for you. And please, don’t be a stranger. I’m always around for more of your brilliant ideas, alright?—Astoria
LOVE AND STRAYS
They had long since outgrown the fragile label of courting. What you and Niklaus shared was something older, deeper something that had rooted itself into the very bones of the Mikaelson household. To outsiders, there was no question of if she belonged. You were already spoken of as one of them.
A Mikaelson in everything but name.
Your turning had not been gentle. Death had come to you in cruelty cold, merciless, and undeserved, And whatever force had dragged you back into the world of the living had not softened your edges. It only had sharpened them. You rose stronger, Wilder, and more Fearless than before, Untamed in ways that even the oldest vampires found… unsettling.
And yet, somehow, you remained achingly soft where it mattered.
Animals adored you. Or perhaps it was the other way around. Where others saw pests, you saw innocence.
Where others saw inconvenience, you saw something worth protecting. Strays followed you like you were carved out of warmth itself, dogs with ribs showing, cats with wary eyes and never once you turned them away.
Niklaus had once called it a habit.
But even he could never bring himself to stop you. Because it was one of the things he loved about you.
—
Present Day — 5:00 AM
For a man who had lived a thousand years, Niklaus Mikaelson found it absurd that something as simple as sharing a bed still felt foreign.
And yet he never complained Not even once. Because when he woke, it meant you were there and Somewhere in the chaos. His arm draped possessively around your waist… his face buried
…in fur.
Niklaus’ brows furrowed as he inhaled, only to be met not with your scent but something decidedly more canine.
He inhaled once more
And then, with visible restraint, he lifted his head only to find himself eye-level with the rear end of a rather content-looking dog sprawled comfortably between them.
Meanwhile, a cat sat squarely on his chest like it paid rent to be there
Niklaus stared at the ceiling for a long moment.
“…Love,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep and disbelief, “I do believe your collection of strays has staged a coup.”
His hand shifted, brushing along your arm as his gaze softened despite himself.
“…and I am losing my place in my own bed.”
You let out a soft, sleepy hum, barely lifting your head as you tightened your arms around the dog curled against you.
“You said you wanted to learn gentleness…” you mumbled into its fur, voice thick with sleep. “Thaddeus is merely being affectionate…”
Your hand waved lazily in Niklaus’ direction just as the dog beside him shifted again, scooting with all the enthusiasm of an uninvited monarch claiming territory. Its tail thumped once. Twice.
And then, Far too teasingly annoyance close to niks Face A slow, dangerous exhale left him as he stared at the offending creature now once again presenting him with the least dignified view imaginable.
“…Right.”
In one swift motion, he pushed himself up, dragging a hand down his face.
“Alright! That is quite enough off the bed, all of you!” His voice rang with authority, though still rough with sleep. “I will not be usurped in my own chambers. I must impose discipline!”
The cat on his chest did not move as it slid down It blinked at him Unimpressed of his existence, Niklaus narrowed his eyes.
“…Do not test me.”
Reluctantly, he plucked the cat off his chest and set it aside before turning his attention to the larger offenders.
“Thaddeus. Cassius. Off.”
The command carried weight, centuries of power laced into a single word.
The dogs hesitated… then, with dramatic reluctance, began climbing down from the bed. Niklaus watched them go, victorious for all of three seconds before one of them circled back, placing its paws right on the edge of the mattress.
He pointed sharply toward the door.
“Out.” Thaddeus and Cassius trudged out of the room with exaggerated sorrow, heads hanging low, as if the weight of betrayal rested solely on their furry shoulders. One might’ve sworn there was tragic music trailing behind them as they disappeared down the hall undoubtedly on their way to claim sanctuary in Elijah’s room. Mr. Binkins remained perched atop the table like a silent judge, tail flicking once as he fixed Niklaus with a long, unimpressed stare clearly holding a grudge.
Niklaus watched them go, jaw tightening ever so slightly.
“…Of course,” he muttered under his breath. “Run to Elijah. traitors.”
Niklaus exhaled as he dramatically pulled the covers back and slipped in., running a hand through his hair before glancing back at you, who still looked entirely unbothered.
“…Your devotion to these creatures is admirable,” he muttered, climbing back beside her, voice softer now, quieter. His arm slipped around her waist, pulling her closer against him.
“But if one more of them places its rear near my face at an ungodly hour,” he added dryly, lips brushing faintly against her temple, “I may very well declare war.”
"Who knows it's just their way of saying Good Morning..."
Nik grimanced of the thought of Thaddeus Testicles...
“Well, forgive me if I find being greeted by a dog’s hindquarters at dawn somewhat… testing to one’s composure,” he replied, voice edged but not unkind.
He shifted closer, propping himself slightly on one elbow as he looked down at you, studying your face with that familiar intensity.
“Patience,” he repeated, quieter this time, as if weighing the word. Then a faint scoff left him. “I have endured a thousand years of betrayal, war, and familial nonsense. I daresay my patience is quite remarkable.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward Mr. Binkins, who continued to stare like he owned the house.
“…though perhaps selectively applied.”
Reaching out, Niklaus brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentler now—deliberate.
“You, however,” he murmured, voice lowering, “test it in ways I find… considerably more tolerable.”
His thumb lingered briefly against your cheek before he leaned back slightly, exhaling.
“…And for the record,” he added, glancing once more toward the doorway, “if those beasts return with reinforcements, I am locking the door.”
“…Elijah may keep them.”
"well...I won't be suprised." You said "after all Elijah tend to...train them and please them"
Niklaus let out a low, amused scoff at that, the corner of his mouth curling despite himself.
“Oh, I’ve no doubt my dear brother is already welcoming them with open arms,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Elijah has always had a talent for… indulging the unwanted.”
His eyes flicked toward the door, as if he could already picture it Elijah, composed as ever, standing there while two oversized strays claimed his space without so much as a complaint.
“Give it an hour and they’ll be better groomed than I am,” he added dryly.
Then his gaze returned to you, softer now, studying the way you still clung to sleep, to warmth.
“And you encourage it,” he went on, quieter, not accusing—just observant. “Every lost creature finds its way to you… and somehow stays.”
His hand slid back to your waist, pulling you just a little closer as you looked up at him lovingly, mornings like this was rare, mornings you wished that could last forever and just stay in bed.
“…I suppose I should be grateful,” he murmured, voice dipping. “You’ve a habit of keeping strays.” His eyes held yours now, something deeper flickering beneath the usual wit.
“And yet,” he added softly, thumb brushing against her side, “I seem to be the one who never leaves.”
There was a beat of silence before he exhaled lightly, the moment easing just a touch.
“…Though I do draw the line at sharing my pillow with them.”
You hummed softly, eyes half-lidded as you studied him. “So… you’re not implementing rules?”
Niklaus held your gaze for a moment long enough to seem like he might argue, might lay down some grand decree befitting his name.
Then, slowly, he shook his head.
A quiet exhale left him, almost amused at himself.
“No,” he admitted, voice lower now, stripped of its earlier edge. “Because I know precisely how that would end.”
His brow arched faintly as his hand traced idle patterns along your side.
“You would ignore them,” he continued, matter-of-fact. “The dogs would defy them The cat would still ook at me as though I’ve deeply offended his ancestors…”
His eyes flicked briefly toward Mr. Binkins, who, true to form, remained seated like a silent tyrant.
“…and in the end,” Niklaus added, a hint of a smirk returning, “I would be the only one suffering any consequence.”
He shifted closer, his forehead brushing lightly against yours, voice dropping to something honestly soft.
“I have conquered kingdoms, love,” he murmured. “I’ve broken armies, defied gods and beast alike…”
“…and yet your strays remain my most formidable adversaries.”
His lips ghosted near your temple again, lingering just a second longer this time.
“But no,” he finished quietly, arm tightening around her, “no rules.”
“.mmmm…only boundaries.” He glanced at the closed door, and grinned
“ perhaps a locked one.”
—
Morning light spilled into the kitchen in soft gold, catching on polished counters and half-filled glasses. The quiet didn’t last. Rebekah strode in, Mr. Binkins draped in her arms like royalty, utterly content with his new perch. His tail flicked lazily as if he’d already chosen his next domain.
“Did you throw out the cat, Nik?” she asked, brows lifting as she adjusted her hold on him. “I heard the dogs whining at Elijah’s door.”
Niklaus, leaning against the counter with a glass in hand, didn’t even look up at first.
“I did no such thing,” he replied coolly, though there was a faint edge of offense there. “Despite popular belief, I am not in the habit of throwing creatures from rooms.”
His eyes lifted landing on Mr. Binkins in her arms.
“…though I did strongly encourage certain… occupants to vacate my bedchamber.”
His jaw tightened slightly as he took a slow sip, clearly recalling the morning.
". No doubt he’s preparing tea for them as we speak.”
Rebekah huffed a quiet laugh, scratching under the cat’s chin.
“Oh, don’t be dramatic. They like him because he doesn’t threaten exile every five minutes.”
Niklaus scoffed, pushing off the counter.
“I do not threaten exile,” he shot back. “I enforce order.”
His gaze flicked toward the doorway, as if expecting you to appear at any moment.
“…which, in that room,” he muttered, quieter now, “is an ever-losing battle.”
Rebekah smirked, shifting Mr. Binkins slightly.
“Well, if it helps,” she said lightly, “you’re the only one surprised.”
Niklaus gave her a look half warning, half reluctant amusement.
“…Keep the cat out of my room,” he said at last, though there was no real bite to it.
Mr. Binkins blinked slowly.
And from somewhere down the hall, faint scratching could be heard—followed by the unmistakable, pitiful whine of a dog at Elijah’s door.
Niklaus closed his eyes briefly.
“…I should have locked it.”
It wasn't long that the dogs Thaddeus and Cassius we're already bathed and one of them having a spiked collar on coming down the stairs with Elijah.
You immediately knelt down "Cassius!!!!"
The moment your voice rang out, the entire room seemed to tilt toward you.
Cassius bolted down the last few steps with renewed energy freshly bathed, fur still slightly damp, smelling faintly of mint and whatever expensive patience Elijah had clearly invested in him. Thaddeus followed more dignified, though now sporting a polished spiked collar that made him look far more like a noble guardian than a stray.
Elijah descended behind them with his usual composed elegance, sleeves immaculate, expression calm in that quietly satisfied way he always had after successfully “civilizing” chaos.
Niklaus, however, looked immediately betrayed.
“…Mint,” he repeated flatly.
His eyes narrowed as Cassius rushed straight into Y/n’s space, tail wagging like nothing in the world had ever gone wrong.
He pointed a slow, accusatory finger toward Elijah.
“You bathed them.”
Elijah simply gave a faint, knowing smile. “They were quite receptive.”
Niklaus scoffed. “They were whining at your door like peasants seeking asylum.”
Thaddeus padded forward next, collar glinting, and Niklaus stared at him like he’d personally switched allegiances.
“And now you’ve accessorized them,” Niklaus added, voice tight with disbelief. “Of course you have.”
You were petting them giving them best belly scratches and the behind war scratch es in the world that Cassius started go roll on his back and kick at how good you were scratching that spot, all focus shifting to Cassius like nothing else in the world mattered. That alone made Niklaus exhale through his nose, slow and resigned.
Of course.
Cassius practically melted into you, leaning into your hands as if the entire morning had been worth it just for this moment.
Niklaus watched it for a beat, then stepped closer behind her.
“…I maintain,” he said dryly, “that I was not the problem in this scenario.”
His gaze flicked down to the now pristine dog.
“…though I will admit,” he added reluctantly, “he does smell less like rebellion now.”
Elijah’s lips twitched ever so slightly. “Growth suits them.”
Niklaus shot him a look.
“And betrayal suits you, brother.”
Still, despite the complaint, his hand reached down—briefly scratching behind Thaddeus’ ear with a begrudging sort of acceptance.
“…Do not get used to this,” he muttered to the dog.
Then, softer barely audible as he glanced toward Y/n and Cassius
“…all of you.”
As the day wore on, the Mikaelson household settled into its usual kind of chaos the kind that only existed when something living, stubborn, and adored had fully claimed residence And despite every complaint Niklaus had voiced since sunrise, he found himself exactly where he always ended up.
Feeding them and Refilling water bowls.
Brushing out Thaddeus’ fur with a comb he insisted he was only using “because no one else does it properly.”
Cassius sat nearby, watching him with bright, trusting eyes, tail thumping whenever Niklaus paused even for a second too long. You were somewhere close by never far, never truly absent from the orbit of whatever creature you had decided needed saving that week.
Niklaus worked in silence for a moment, jaw set, expression carefully controlled as he knelt beside the dogs.
“…You are both entirely too comfortable,” he muttered under his breath, smoothing Thaddeus’ fur with practiced hands. Thaddeus leaned into him like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Niklaus exhaled sharply through his nose.
“…Do not encourage this.”
That evening, you decided to go out for a walk saying you needed air. Niklaus obliged, as usual sometimes he would ask if you would need him to walk with you but you insist that you can take care of yourself. And he believes that...he never doubted you on that part...
as the hour gotten late he knew he shouldn't worry since after all he knew you take on Enimies, you were stronger that you let on, But it didn't calm him down it was instict to worry about you.
The rain had started as something gentle barely a whisper against the stone streets but by the time night settled fully over the city, it had become something heavier, Persistent and Cold enough to cling.
Niklaus stood beneath the entrance, just outside the lobby doors he refused to step back inside since there was a tension in him that even centuries of control couldn’t fully disguise.
Thaddeus sat close to his right while Cassius on his left. Both were unusually still, there small furry ears occasionally twitching at passing sounds and temperature was too cold for the two.. Thaddeus whined a bit looking up Niklaus with worry eyes. As If the dog begged him to run after you.
Niklaus glanced down at them, and scratched the back of Thaddeus's ear.
“…She will return,” he said quietly. But dog still looked uncertain.
He reassured the mutt, but the way he said it, it more like for himself than for the dog.
Thaddeus let out a soft huff, leaning slightly into his leg, while Niklaus exhaled through his nose his gaze lifting toward the heavens. As much as he didn't want to think about it.
He knew, that in his life good things are always taken from him so he prepared himself for the worse.
“I am aware,” he continued, voice lower now, almost absent-minded. “She is not fragile. She is not foolish. She is—”
His jaw tightened slightly as he paused, with stubborn worry.
“…herself.”
The words should have been enough. They usually were. And yet His eyes stayed fixed on the rain, as if it had personally offended him by continuing to fall.
Cassius shifted closer, pressing against his other side. Niklaus glanced down again at the dogs
“…Do not look at me like that,” he muttered. “I am not worried.” The silence that followed was entirely unconvinced.
His hand finally lowered, brushing over Cassius’ head in a slow, absent stroke.
“…I am simply… aware of the weather conditions.”
Thaddeus made a small sound almost a sigh, Niklaus shot him a look.
“Yes, yes,” he muttered. “You agree with her. Everyone agrees with her.”
Then, quieter so quiet it almost got lost in the rain:
“…She always comes back.”
But his gaze stayed locked on the dark street beyond the lobby lights Waiting anyway. One of the Dogs, Cassius couldnt stand it anymore.
Cassius broke first. One moment he was sitting calmly beside Niklaus in the lobby’s dry shelter then the next, his ears snapped forward at a sound only he seemed to recognize. Without hesitation, he darted into the rain.
Niklaus barely had time to react despite he was a vampire himself.
“Cassius—!”
It was too late The rain swallowed him whole, the dog disappeared deep into the curtain of rain, Niklaus stepped forward instantly his jaw tightening and eyes narrowing into the downpour as if sheer intimidation alone could pull a dog back through a storm.
“Of course,” he muttered darkly. “Perfect timing for idiocy.”
Thaddeus stood too, alert now, but didn’t follow since he rather concerned to leave niklaus alone, you always told Thaddeus to look after Niklaus because Nik himself does the same request to Cassius to look after you...hence why Cassius darted into the rain, Thaddeus watched the rain like it had suddenly become a battlefield.
And then Two silhouettes emerged through the curtain of rain.
Cassius first, his fur drenched but skipping happily And beside him
You.
Soaked to the bone, hair damp and clinging, rainwater dripping from your sleeves. But you weren't empty-handed.
Tucked carefully against her chest inside your coat was Something very small and
scaly?
Cassius wagged like nothing in the world had ever been wrong, proudly escorting her back as if he had accomplished something heroic.
Niklaus’ gaze snapped to you.
Then to your arms.
“…No,” he said slowly, voice dangerously calm. You stepped into the lobby like nothing had happened, like Nik wasn't standing there for than an hour waiting for you, as rainwater pooling beneath your feet.
Niklaus took one step forward.
Then another.
His eyes locked onto the creature you were protecting.
“…Tell me,” he said carefully, each word measured like he was restraining something ancient, “that is not what I think it is.”
He leaned slightly to get a better look.
He looked at you for injuries checking you but his eyes keep snapping at the creature in your arms...his expression was in both relief and disgusted confusion
“…It is,” he concluded flatly.
A bearded dragon.
Niklaus closed his eyes for a moment.
When he opened them again, the controlled frustration was back but so was something far more familiar beneath it.
That instinctive pull he hated admitting existed, concern and Relief.
“You,” he said, pointing vaguely between her and Cassius now, “disappeared into a storm—”
He gestured sharply at the lizard.
“—for this.”
Thaddeus approached cautiously, sniffing the air like he was trying to decide if this new addition was friend or political threat.
Niklaus exhaled hard through his nose.
“…I was standing out there,” he continued, voice rising slightly now in the way it always did when worry disguised itself as irritation, “in the rain, attempting to maintain some semblance of dignity—”
His eyes flicked over her drenched state.
“And you return… with a reptile.”
"Nik" you tried to reason...
Then he paused for a moment trying to gather his thoughts together in composure Then, quieter he said...
“…Are you hurt?”
"I..."
The question slipped out beneath the scolding, softer than intended. His gaze stayed fixed on your face now.
“…Because if you are,” he added, tone darkening slightly, “I may reconsider my stance on storms.”
Cassius sat proudly at you side.
Wagging her tail proudly as if saying 'Daddy I found her'
Niklaus Mikaelson, ancient king, terror of nations stood there soaked in worry he denied in his expression as he glared at a bearded dragon like it had personally insulted him...you took this chance of silence to reason.
"Klaus, I'm not hurt...it's just...there was pet shop two blocks away from here and....and...I can't...Nik...they were closing down and disposing...they were in hot sale. And no one wanted them..." You said bring the lizard close to your chest, hoping your dear lover would take your reason for something...
Niklaus went very still.
For a moment, you couldn’t tell whether he was angry… or simply trying to process the fact that you had apparently returned home collecting abandoned animals like strays from a storm. But this wasn’t the tense, irritated stillness from moments before.
It was quieter than that.
He listened to every word, every hesitation, his gaze slowly dropping from your face… to the small, careful bundle in your arms… then to the subtle movement tugging at your coat.
Cassius pawed insistently at the fabric.
A tiny ear peeked out.
“…No,” he murmured under his breath, almost disbelieving. “No, no—don’t tell me…”
He stepped closer this time, slower now, as though approaching something unpredictable.
Not the animals. You.
“Y/n…” His voice lowered, no longer sharp, only heavy with realization. “How many did you bring back?” he asked, the annoyance in his tone threaded unmistakably with concern.
His eyes searched your face, already knowing the answer would not bring him comfort.
“…They were being discarded,” you explained softly, sounding almost like a child caught doing something reckless for the right reasons.
Something in his expression shifted then subtle, but unmistakable. The irritation cracked, giving way to something much older. Something that understood abandonment far too well.
Of course she couldn’t leave them.
Of course she didn’t.
He exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down his face before glancing at the hamster currently attempting to crawl out of your pocket as though it had already signed a lease.
“…There is a lizard in your arms,” he muttered.
“A rodent in your coat.”
His gaze flicked briefly toward the entrance to the rain, the dark, the world that had almost taken you away from him for even a moment.
Then back to you.
“…And I assume,” he continued, voice quieter now, resigned in the particular way only you ever managed to make him, “this is not the full extent of it.”
Cassius wagged his tail.
Niklaus stared at both of you like co-conspirators.
“…You are all in on this, aren’t you?”
A breath escaped him, half sigh, half surrender.
He stepped closer, reaching not for the animals, but for you. His fingers brushed damp strands of hair away from your face, checking you over as though he still needed proof you were truly unharmed.
“…You should have told me,” he murmured softly. “I would have gone with you.”
Then, reluctantly:
“…Very well.”
His hand fell back to his side as he straightened, composure slowly returning piece by piece.
“We will… handle it.” His eyes drifted toward the hamster again.
“…All of it. But if there is a snake hidden somewhere in that coat, I expect honesty now rather than later.”
You sighed. The moment the sound left you, Niklaus narrowed his eyes. It was not a reassuring sigh. Before he could question it further, you carefully placed the bearded dragon into his hands.
Niklaus hesitated Very briefly. Because he never actually, dealt much with Lizards...lizards were fine, snakes well...that needed to be negotiated...
“…You cannot be serious,” he muttered, though his grip adjusted almost immediately careful, controlled, far gentler than his words suggested. The bearded dragon remained perfectly still, blinking lazily as though entirely unbothered by the ancient hybrid currently holding it like some fragile, sacred relic.
"Oh...Nik..we got space and they don't have a home" you reasoned.
Niklaus stared at it, not expecting the lizard to stared back.
“…It’s judging me,” he decided flatly.
Y/n’s words followed, firm, unwavering—and he didn’t interrupt her this time.
We got space. We got a home they don’t.
You repeated trying to convince the hybrid to let her shelter the animals.
His jaw tightened slightly, gaze flicking toward you as you revealed the hamster, small and trembling from the cold but alive, tucked safely in her hands.
Cassius sniffed—
Sneezed before bolting past Kol like he had just encountered a supernatural threat.
Niklaus barely reacted seeing the rodent, he constantly killed the Quarter Rats here around, calling them the Gumbo Rattles Patties. His attention was elsewhere before Kol’s voice cut in, dripping with amusement.
“Well now, isn’t this surprising… didn’t know you’re building a zoo.”
Niklaus didn’t even look at him.
“…Say another word,” he replied calmly, “and I’ll see to it you’re the first exhibit.”
Kol only grinned wider. Niklaus finally exhaled, long and slow, shifting the lizard slightly so it sat more securely in his palm.
“…We do not need more,” he said, though there was no real force behind it now. Just habit. Resistance out of principle.
His eyes lifted to you again.
“You realize this does not end here,” he continued. “Today it is a lizard and a rodent—tomorrow it is… what? Goats? Birds? Something with antlers wandering into my study?”
You didn't answer him instead you have him puppy eyes, hoping Thaddeus techniques would work.
“…You won’t turn them away.”
It wasnt a question, it Never was.when it comes to animals He looked down at the bearded dragon again, thumb brushing lightly along its back testing carefully
“…What is its name?” he asked suddenly.
"I don't know...I haven't named them yet" you shrugged
Because of course there would be one.
Because of course he had already accepted it without saying so. Behind him, Kol let out a low chuckle, leaning casually against the wall.
“Oh, he’s gone,” Kol mused. “Completely gone.”
Niklaus shot him a sharp look.
“I am adapting,” he corrected.
Then, under his breath almost to himself as he glanced between you, the hamster, and the ridiculous creature now calmly perched in his hand:
“…apparently.”
You handed the hamster to Kol. Which only made Kol grin Evily. Testing how soft and squish able the Hamster was before Niklaus gave him a deadly look.
"I took them home with me since if I don't they would die in those enclosures and...when I know I could have given them a chance..." You said in the background.
"You can name them if you want" you told Niklaus leaned his head back a fraction eyes narrowing as the bearded dragon’s tiny tongue flicked far too close to his face.
“…If it attempts that again,” he muttered, holding it at a very deliberate distance, “I shall take it as a personal offense.”
Rebekah came down the stairs "oh no Nik don't bring a bloody dragon here" she accused Nik
Behind him, Kol was already far too entertained—rolling the small hamster gently between his fingers with a grin that bordered on villainous curiosity.
“Remarkable little thing,” Kol mused. “Soft. Fragile. Highly—”
Niklaus’ head snapped toward him.
The look alone was enough to freeze a lesser man.
“…Kol.”
That single word carried a promise.
Kol raised his hands slightly, still grinning. “Relax, brother. I’m not going to crush your newest acquisition.”
Niklaus turned back to you, but your words lingered—if I don’t… they would die… And just like that, the fight left him again.
A quieter exhale followed.
His gaze softened just slightly as he watched you, the way you stood there drenched, stubborn, certain.
“…You always do this,” he said, not unkindly. “You see something the world has already discarded… and you decide it deserves more.”
“…It’s infuriating.”
he understood it Because he admired it.
it mirrored something in him he rarely acknowledged. And he should feel thankful about it Her offer naming made him glance down at the creature in his hands again. Niklaus studied the lizard like it was a decision of great importance.
“…It requires something dignified,” he murmured, tone shifting into something thoughtful. “Something that does not invite mockery.”
Rebekah’s voice cut through the moment.
“Oh no, Nik, don’t bring a bloody dragon here—” Niklaus’ head snapped toward her, immediate offense.
“It is not a dragon,” he corrected sharply. “It is a—”
He paused as He glanced down again inspecting it as he search for the words to describe it.
“…a moderately unimpressive reptile.”
Kol snorted, Niklaus ignored him.
“And I did not bring it here,” he added, gesturing vaguely toward you without looking away from Rebekah. “She did. I am merely… managing the situation.”
Rebekah crossed her arms, eyeing the entire scene the dogs, the hamster in Kol’s hands, the lizard in Niklaus’.
“…You’ve lost control,” she declared.
You turned to Rebekah "it's harmless Bekah... besides it's just temporary."
"Yes, temporary like the dogs" Rebekah said sarcastically. "Actually! The dogs are technically Elijah's" y/n corrected.
Niklaus straightened slightly, offended on principle.
“I have never lost control.”
The hamster squeaked The dogs shifted.
The lizard flicked its tongue again.
Niklaus closed his eyes briefly as he spoke
“…I am choosing,” he said carefully, “to allow a temporary… expansion.”
Niklaus shot them a glare before looking back at you, voice lowering again more personal, quieter beneath the chaos.
“…Very well,” he said. “They stay.”
“But,” he added, lifting a finger slightly, reclaiming some authority, “they will be named properly.”
He glanced down at the bearded dragon again, studying it with narrowed eyes.
“…Augustus,” he decided at last.
“…or something equally respectable.”
Then, flicking his gaze toward the hamster in Kol’s hands:
“And that one—give it here before he develops ideas.”
Kol grinned wider.
“Oh, I already have ideas.”
Niklaus’ expression darkened.
“…Kol.”
Another warning.
Very real this time.
Kol smiled brightly at the hamster.
“I shall name you… Biscuit,” he whispered solemnly before tucking the tiny creature into his coat pocket.
The hamster immediately looked as though it was seconds away from cardiac arrest.
Niklaus’ eyes snapped toward Kol’s pocket the very instant the animal disappeared.
“…Absolutely not.”
He moved before the sentence had even fully left his mouth, crossing the room in a blur and catching Kol by the collar—not violent, but firm enough to make his point abundantly clear.
“Give. It. Here.”
Kol only grinned, entirely too pleased with himself.
“Oh, come now, brother, Biscuit and I have already bonded—”
“Niklaus.”
Elijah’s voice cut through the room just as he entered.
“What exactly has Cassius cowering in the libr—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
His eyes landed on Kol aggressively attempting to stuff a hamster deeper into his pocket.
A long pause.
“…Please explain who gave Kol a hamster,” Elijah said flatly. “Did none of you learn from the last incident? He cannot be trusted with small creatures. If left unsupervised, he will put it in a sandwich.”
“Elijah,” Niklaus said sharply, never taking his eyes off Kol, “kindly relieve our dear brother of the creature before he decides to test its… structural integrity.”
Elijah stepped forward immediately, expression already steeped in disappointment as he reached into Kol’s pocket with practiced patience.
“I cannot believe I have to say this again,” Elijah muttered while carefully extracting the visibly trembling hamster, “but small animals are not toys.”
Kol sighed dramatically as the hamster was rescued from certain psychological damage.
“You all lack imagination.”
Niklaus ignored him entirely.
The moment Elijah passed the hamster over, Niklaus took it far more gently than anyone would have expected, cupping the tiny thing carefully in both hands.
“…There,” he murmured quietly, more to soothe it than anything else.
The hamster froze in place, wide-eyed and horrified, but notably alive.
Behind them, Rebekah crossed her arms, thoroughly unconvinced by any of this.
“Temporary,” she repeated dryly.
“Yes, I remember when that applied to the last three living beings brought into this house.” She gestured toward the hallway. “And somehow they all still live here.”
Elijah straightened his sleeves with calm dignity.
“They merely appreciate structure,” he replied smoothly, referring to the dogs.
Niklaus let out a quiet scoff.
“They appreciate betrayal.”
Then his attention shifted back toward Y/n.
He studied you for a long moment before glancing down at the bearded dragon still awkwardly perched in his other hand.
“…None of this is temporary,” he said at last, not accusing—merely stating what everyone in the room already knew.
“You bring them in… and they stay.”
His thumb brushed lightly over the hamster’s back in slow, careful strokes.
“…Very well.”
The decision had been made.
Niklaus straightened slightly before addressing the room with the exhausted authority of a king reluctantly approving legislation against his better judgment.
“They will remain.”
Kol perked up immediately.
“Even Biscuit?”
Niklaus shot him a glare sharp enough to split stone.
“You will not call it that.”
Then, more pointedly:
“And you will not place it in your pocket again unless you wish to discover how you fare in similarly confined conditions.”
Kol raised his hands in surrender, though he was visibly fighting laughter.
Meanwhile, Niklaus—still holding a lizard in one hand and a traumatized hamster in the other—looked back toward Y/n, something softer settling into his expression despite the complete madness surrounding him.
“…You are aware,” he said quietly, “that this house now resembles something between a sanctuary and a punishment.”
A brief pause.
“…Though I suppose I should be grateful it is not worse.”
His eyes narrowed slightly.
“…Yet.”
Rebekah sighed dramatically before scooping Mr. Binkins into her arms.
“At this rate, the next thing she brings home will be a goldfish.”
Niklaus let out a deeply offended scoff.
“A goldfish?” he repeated, staring at her as though she had suggested unleashing a plague upon the household. “What a horrifyingly dull addition that would be.”
His gaze dropped briefly to the hamster… then the lizard… then finally back to Y/n.
A pause.
“…Actually, no,” he corrected slowly, suspicion dawning across his features. “On second thought, I forbid it entirely. Something tells me it would not remain confined to a bowl.”
Kol snorted.
“Oh, I would very much enjoy witnessing that. A dramatic midnight fish rescue feels extremely on brand for this family.”
Niklaus ignored him with remarkable commitment.
Rebekah raised a brow. “You say that now, Nik. Give it a week.”
Elijah folded his hands neatly behind his back.
“Statistically speaking,” he said with infuriating calmness, “the probability is not insignificant.”
Niklaus shot him an exhausted glare.
“You are not helping.”
“…A goldfish,” he muttered darkly beneath his breath. “We are not acquiring aquatic life.”
His jaw tightened slightly.
“…I do not trust myself not to become emotionally invested.”
Kol burst into laughter.
Niklaus’ glare alone could have ended wars.
“I am already surrounded by creatures seemingly determined to test my patience,” he said coolly. “I will not add one that stares at me blankly from a glass prison.”
Mr. Binkins chose that exact moment to flick his tail smugly from Rebekah’s arms.
Niklaus narrowed his eyes at the cat immediately.
“…Do not even consider it,” he warned, as though the idea had somehow originated from the feline.
Then his gaze returned to Y/n once more, softening despite himself.
“…No fish,” he said quietly.
A beat passed before he glanced around at the others and added, with clear reluctance:
More more more Joel Goran! Please I beg you! Just don't make him a jerk.
-🦦
𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Joel Goran 𝙭 Reader
Su𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: you're lonely and injured and somehow one doctors tries to turn things around.
𝙶e𝚗𝚛𝚎: Fluff
𝚆o𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 2k
A/n: hope you love it, anon. It had been desert dry for Joel Recently...Maybe I'll post more in the future. Because I highly doubt that someone will read this...Much love 😘 ~ Tori
Mr. Sparkles
The soft hum of hospital machines filled the room, steady but unforgiving, it had been like that for the past few days, since you were admitted..
Joel Goran stood near the foot of the bed, when he noticed you had been staring at the door more than the usual his arms loosely crossed and his eyes sharper than he let on.
“…You’re doing it again.”
His voice was calm, low & gentle with that accent that seems to tickle the outer chell of your ears, he does that he in a way that didn’t quite match his usual bluntness.
He pushed off the wall and stepped closer, glancing briefly at the door wondering what you're actually looking at before his gaze returned to you.
“Watching the door like it’s about to fix something.”
He tilted his head slightly when you didn't answer, studying your expression like he was trying to read between the lines rather than just your chart. As he unclenched his jaw.
“…You expecting someone?”
He didn’t push too hard but there was something different today.
“And don’t give me the ‘just looking’ answer,” he added softly, one brow raising just a bit, “I’ve been here long enough to know when something’s off.”
He pulled a chair closer, sitting beside your bed now instead of standing over you.
“…Talk to me, y/n.”
You looked at him finally "he's not coming is he?"
Joel knew what you meant, he had been ask the same question in different patients he had dealt with and noneo f it felt lighter than the other he assumed it was someone she speaks highly of. Joel’s jaw tightened slightly, just enough to show he felt the weight of your words without overdoing it.
He studied you as the machines’ beeps suddenly quieter in the background as he tried to gauge what you needed.
“…I don’t think he is,” he said carefully, his voice low, steady, almost protective.
“I mean… whoever he is… sometimes people can’t make it. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t care.”
He shifted a little in the chair, leaning closer but keeping a respectful distance, letting you see that he was here and present.
“But,” he added, a hint of something softer breaking through the usual Joel grit, “that doesn’t mean you’re alone. Not while I’m around, y/n.”
He gave a small, reassuring nod, letting the silence stretch a little, hoping you'd feel safe enough to say more if you wanted to.
“You wanna tell me about him? Or… just want me to sit here?” he asked, his words laced with concern
You looked at him with your voice low, your eyes didn't meet his because you didn't want him to see the disappointment in your eyes.
"He's a friend...I expected him to show up...I guess I thought about the future too much that I disappointed myself."
"How about your family?" Joel asked.
"They're not around" you said
"Friends?"
"Just throw pillows"
Joel let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. He could feel the weight of your loneliness pressing against the sterile walls of the hospital room, and it made the air feel heavier somehow.
“…Throw pillows, huh?” he murmured, a faint, wry smile tugging at his lips despite the gravity of the moment. “I’ve met a lot of people in beds like this… and a lot of them get by with just that. Doesn’t make it any less lonely, though. I get it.”
He leaned back slightly, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair, still keeping his gaze on you. His tone softened, almost like he was trying to bridge the gap between doctor and someone who just needed to be seen.
“You know… you’ve got me here, even if it’s not the friend you hoped would show up. I’ll sit. I’ll talk. Or I’ll just be… quiet, if that’s what you need.”
He gave you a patient, understanding look, letting the offer hang in the air without pressure, just the steady presence of someone who wouldn’t leave.
“Sometimes… having someone in the room is enough. Even if it’s just… someone.”
"But you're a doctor...don't you have anywhere to be?" You asked
Joel shook his head slowly, a small, almost sad smile forming at the corner of his mouth.
“…Not right now. Not for a while.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, letting his presence feel steady and unhurried.
“Truth is… I’ve got time. And you’ve got my attention. Doesn’t matter what the schedule says.”
He gave a soft shrug, the hint of a joke in his tone to lighten the heaviness just a touch.
“And anyway… I don’t exactly get to leave patients like you alone. Not when you’re sitting here staring at the door like it’s supposed to change the world.”
"Maybe I just expected much from him..."
His eyes softened, sincere but gentle, letting you know he wasn’t saying it to tease he genuinely wanted to be there.
“ if you want, I can stay. No charting, no rounds. Just… sit. Talk. Or… nothing. Your call.” he said leaning back on his seat.
You smiled at him softly
"I'd like that"
"I guess you know alot about me ..I don't know much about you"
Joel chuckled softly, the sound low and easy, a little gravelly from disuse.
“…Fair enough,” he said, leaning back a bit, keeping his gaze on you with an openness that was rare for him. “I’ve spent a lot of time running between patients and emergencies… but lately, I’ve been learning that sometimes just sitting with someone… matters more than anything else.”
He shrugged lightly, a half-smile tugging at his lips.
“Not much of a family man, not a lot of friends outside of work. Most of my time… well, it’s spent in places like this.” His eyes flicked briefly to the machines, then back to you.
“But enough about me talking. You… you tell me your stories. I’ll listen. That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?”
He paused, letting the quiet hum of the room settle around them, giving you space to decide what to share next.
“…Unless you want, I can tell you the things I shouldn’t tell patients, too,” he added with a teasing, softer grin, just enough to lighten the room without breaking the moment.
You smiled
"and what would that be? Smuggling Drugs?" You joked
Joel let out a low, humor-laced laugh, shaking his head slowly.
“Nope… not smuggling drugs,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes now. “Though… if I did, I’d probably be a terrible criminal. Too many witnesses and questions.”
He leaned back a little, crossing his arms, his grin widening just enough to seem human and unguarded.
“Mostly… just bad jokes, too much coffee, and a tendency to care too much about people I shouldn’t,” he admitted, shrugging with a hint of self-deprecation.
Then his tone softened, the teasing fading just slightly.
“But… I guess sitting here with you? That might be the only thing worth it right now. Even if I can’t fix everything, at least I can… keep you company.”
He gave you a look that was equal parts warm and steady, silently letting you know he meant it.
"you sound like a man with a history.." you said
"before you tell me your life history
I'm Y/n you should you know by now...." Glancing at the clipboard tiredly
Joel chuckled softly, the sound low and genuine, shaking his head with a little smirk.
" Yeah… you could say that,” he said, leaning back in the chair, letting the chair creak under him as he settled in comfortably.
“But don’t worry… I’m not about to unload my whole life story on you while you’re lying there trying to survive a damn injury.”
He gestured lightly at the clipboard, a teasing glint in his eyes.
“Besides, Its my job to keep that pretty smile aren't I."
He paused, his smile softening, tone dropping to something warmer, quieter.
“So… if you want to know some history, maybe I’ll tell you little pieces. But only if you want. Right now? I’m here for you, not Dr. Joel Goran’s autobiography.”
He gave you a wink,
The next day was supposed to be Joel's Day off when he went back to the hospital with a Unicorn plush pillow and some balloons for you...Gavin looked at him when he passed by on Joel's way to your room.
"Your not supposed to be here!" He said
Joel froze for a moment in the hallway, the balloons swaying slightly as he held them and the unicorn plush tucked under his arm. He gave Gavin a lazy, almost mischievous smirk, shrugging like it was nothing.
“Yeah, well… rules were made to be bent, right?” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned against the wall for a moment.
“Besides… someone needs a little distraction from all the beeping and white walls.”
He glanced down the hall toward your room, the corners of his mouth tugging up into that rare, soft smile he reserved for moments like this.
“So… I’ll let you chase me down if you want, or you can just stay here and grumble. Your choice.”
With that, he continued walking, careful not to bump the balloons, but clearly looking forward to see you.
You were in your room swallowing the meds the nurse gave you for the pain.."do I have to?" You whined at the nurse but before the nurse could answer Joel answered for the nurse
"yup for Mr. Sparkles over here" he said his Kiwi accent thickly lacing his words. wiggling the unicorn plush pillow around covering his face before lowering it revealing that sly charming smile.
Your eyes widened, a mix of surprise and amusement breaking through your tired expression. You blinked up at Joel, momentarily forgetting the bitterness of the meds in your mouth.
“Mr. Sparkles?” you mumbled, muffled slightly by the pill you were trying to swallow, your voice a mix of groan and laugh.
Joel grinned, leaning a little closer to the bed, the balloons bobbing gently behind him.
“Absolutely,” he said, his Kiwi accent thick and playful, his tone like he was delivering an ultimatum wrapped in nonsense.
“He doesn’t do well with skipping doses, and between you and me, he’s got a temper if ignored.”
He plopped the unicorn gently onto the bed beside you, its big embroidered eyes staring innocently up, but Joel gave it a dramatic little shake as if it were alive and judging you.
“See? He’s not happy, y/n. Don’t make him mad.”
He leaned back just enough to let you see the humor in it, eyes twinkling, giving you that rare, steady presence that somehow made the hospital feel less… like a hospital.
You smiled before taking the cup and swallowed it "there...happy?"
Joel let out a low, satisfied chuckle, nodding slowly as he gave the unicorn a little pat.
“Aye,” he said, his Kiwi accent softening a bit, almost warm now. “See? That wasn't so hard, Told you Mr. Sparkles doesn’t mess around. He’s a stickler for his meds.”
He leaned in slightly, resting an elbow on the side of the bed, eyes twinkling with quiet amusement. He gave you a playful, approving nod, letting the small moment of levity settle between them, as if the hospital walls had softened just a little around you.
“And,” he added with a grin, glancing at the balloons, “I’d say the balloons are pretty pleased too. They were getting lonely in the hallway.”
you didn't have to this Joel." You said blushing "but...thank you" as you pulled the unicorn into a hug placing your head on top of its soft horm.
"He smells like bagels" you whispered
Against the plush Joel’s grin widened, a laugh escaping him that was half-amused, half-soft.
Joel, leaning a little closer with that easy , hands resting casually on the bedrail.
“Well… he’s been known to attract crumbs and loyalty in equal measure. He had bagels earlier with a side of Sour cream" he said clearly he meant himself. "Sounds like he likes you.”
He watched you hug the plush, the blush rising on to your cheeks,
“You don’t have to thank me, y/n,” he said, voice softer now, almost quiet. “I… like seeing you smile. That’s enough for me.”
He leaned back slightly, letting the moment breathe, eyes still warm and steady on her.
“And… if Mr. Sparkles approves of me being here, I’m not going anywhere just yet.”
He gave a wink, letting you know he meant itbut without taking away the comfort of your little victory with the unicorn.
You chuckled and smiled at him
"I love him...he's cute..." You hugged it again with a smile like you had forgotten your pains for a moment there.
Joel’s gaze softened, his voice low and warm, carrying a teasing edge that made the moment feel electric.
“Yeah… he is cute,” he said quietly, almost reverent but then his eyes flicked up to hers, a small, knowing smirk tugging at his lips. “But I’d say the girl holding him… well, she might just out-cute the plush.”
There’s a pause, just long enough for the words to land, his tone gentle but unmistakably flirty, letting you feel both seen and a little charmed.
You smiled "you know, you really making me wonder what you're aiming for Mr. Goran"
“Hmm…” he murmured, stroking his chin like he was weighing a world-changing decision.
“Perhaps… I’m aiming for you to get better.” He let the pause hang just long enough to make your heart skip a beat, then added with a playful smirk:
“And maybe… so I can take you on a proper date once you’re out of here.”
His tone was teasing, but there was a sincerity underneath it, like he truly meant every word, even wrapped in the banter.
“And,” he added, leaning a little closer, voice dropping just enough to feel intimate, “I promise Mr. Sparkles will come as my… very fluffy chaperone.”
The combination of flirtation and warmth hung in the air, making the sterile hospital room feel suddenly a little more… like its own private world.
"I might say yes...but Mr Sparkles is cuter" you said to tease him, for a moment there you forgot you were indeed sick at a hospital. Joel threw his hands up in mock horror, stepping back a little as if the betrayal had physically knocked the wind out of him. His eyes widened, and he let out a dramatic gasp that echoed faintly off the walls.
“What?! Out-cute me? By a plush unicorn?!” he exclaimed, voice thick with feigned indignation, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed the amusement he felt.
He pointed at Mr. Sparkles, wagging a finger like a judge delivering a verdict.
“Traitorous, I say! But… I suppose I can forgive him… for now,” he added, leaning closer to you again, voice dropping into a playful, conspiratorial whisper. “Just know… I plan on reclaiming my title as the cutest thing in this room.”
He smirked, letting the humor and flirtation dance between you, the hospital room suddenly feeling a lot warmer than the sterile white walls suggested.
Counting tales was so good, I fear we need a pt 2!!
If you were inclined to write a part 2, maybe one with a role reversal, where the reader has to coax Severus to bed (given he’s also a hypocrite and neglects himself??)
And maybe in this fic he might realise his feelings are reciprocated…? 🥺👉👈
𝙿𝙰𝙸𝚁𝙸𝙽𝙶: Severus Snape x Female Professor Reader
𝙶𝙴𝙽𝚁𝙴: Fluff
𝚆𝙾𝚁𝙳 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝙽𝚃: 5k
𝚆𝙰𝚁𝙽𝙸𝙽𝙶𝚂:None
Summary: Severus attempts to bribe you into getting some much-needed rest, knowing your tendency to overwork yourself… only for you to discover that, this time, he may need just as much convincing when it comes to his own sleep.
Author’s Note: I truly enjoyed writing this after my break from Tumblr. It feels wonderful to return with renewed energy and inspiration. I’ll definitely be writing more for our dear Severus, I’ve missed him quite a bit. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you love this one.
Counting Tales of Midnight
Part two of Counting Tales
Severus Snape Masterlist | Main Masterlist
The clock in the corridor chimed midnight, the sound rolling through the castle halls like a distant ripple in still water.
You had been ready for bed technically. Sleeping wear on, essays stacked neatly for tomorrow, wand idly tucked between your fingers as you tidied the last stubborn wrinkle from your uniform with a soft flick of magic. A habit you had developed over the past few weeks… ever since Severus Snape had begun appearing, without fail, somewhere around this hour, checking wordlessly, reluctantly that you had actually gone to sleep.
Tonight, though, he hadn’t come.
And you told yourself it didn’t matter. You told yourself that twice.
By the third time you found yourself sitting at your desk staring at the door, you stopped pretending. With a quiet sigh that felt far too dramatic for someone in pajamas, you stood, grabbed your wand, and made your way down toward the dungeons light trailing faintly ahead of you like a small, stubborn star refusing to be swallowed by stone.
His office door was ajar. Of course it was.
living in this castle was a suspense as it is.. You pushed it open just enough to slip inside. The room was dim, lit only by the low, hypnotic glow beneath a simmering cauldron. Shadows moved lazily along the stone walls. The air smelled like crushed asphodel and something sharper metallic, almost ink-dark, like secrets left too long in the open.
Severus Snape stood hunched over his desk, entirely absorbed, searching for something among jars and parchment like the rest of the world simply did not exist.
You cleared your throat softly.
"i believe its already midnight unless my clock got bewitched "
Without looking up, he drawls softly, silk over steel.
“Your observational skills remain intact, Professor. A relief, considering you teach Astronomy.”
“Oh hush, don't underestimate my observing skills I don't need a telescope to see such details you'll be suprised what I see” you said.
He stirs the potion once precisely counterclockwise before finally lifting his dark eyes to meet yours. They flicker, briefly, betraying something warmer than irritation.
“Time,” he continues quietly, “is a flexible construct in the pursuit of excellence.”
His gaze travels over your form in the doorway, lingering just a second too long before returning to the parchment beside him.
“And yet… here you are. At one in the morning.”
"Twelve" you corrected
"It's still the same in spirit” he said A faint arch of his brow as he looked at you proving his point.
“Have the stars aligned in such a way that you felt compelled to supervise my bedtime, Professor?”
"Well, usually you'd visit my office telling me to go to bed...which actually I did. But I came to check on you since I didn't find you checking on me I find it fair to return the favor.....but finding you at this hour” you paused looking at his desk and then back at him rather dramatically stressing your point. “you know I find this quite unfair. "
Snape’s quill stills mid-stroke before looking up at you wondering what you mean, he Slowly and deliberately, sets his notebook aside and furrowed his brows.
“Unfair?” He tastes the word as though it might be poisonous as he thought about it, never in his moments with you he wanted you to feel that way, he cared for what you might think. And it worried him.
“I was unaware I had entered into a contractual obligation to escort you to your chambers each evening.”
Yet there is no real bite in his tone only a quiet undercurrent of something else. His dark eyes rise to yours again, studying your expressions to see if you were offended but he found none.
“You went to bed,” he repeats quietly, almost to himself. “Without protest?” he asked suprised. He leans back slightly in his chair, fingers steepled beneath his chin.
“Yes Severus, Im not a little child that needs lifting to get to bed” you said raising your chin high in confidence.
“Oh…” he said “you did act like one.”
You gasped dramatically acting Offended making him look at you with a small grin forming on his lips.
“if I knew this would be the out that I failed to appear… you'd come searching.” he said rather amused of the thought. Little did you know he felt his heart flutter of the thought that in the world so dark there was still someone who cared to look for him even then so.
“Tell me, Professor… is it concern for a colleague that brings you into the dungeons at this hour?” His voice lowers, the room seeming to narrow around them.
“Or have you grown… accustomed to my insistence?”*
You grinned as you walked closer to his desk on the side where he was sitting on his wooden chair you took a seat on the top his desk
"well I be lying if I'd say I didn't got use to you pulling me to my bed and reading to me...with your voice lulling be to sleep” you said “ It be a bonus if you had carried me" you said fiddling with a pencil before looking at him through your lashes
Severus froze on his seat, he wasn't customer to a woman. Especially you sitting on his desk. He may have had thought about it before, seeing other couples do it. At some point he also thought about…would he one day experience such thing also.
Your presence so close perched upon his desk, invading the careful order of parchment and vials should irritate him.
But…It didnt.
His gaze lowers to where your fingers toy with the pencil, then lifts slowly to meet your eyes beneath your lashes. The flicker there is unmistakable dark, intent, and far too warm for a man who prides himself on restraint.
He may have control but he was also a man.
He rises from his chair in one fluid motion, tall and imposing, closing the small distance between you. One hand comes to rest beside you on the desk, trapping you gently between his arm and the polished wood. The other lifts, long fingers brushing the pencil from your grasp and setting it aside.
“You adapt quickly to indulgence,” he murmurs. “A very…very dangerous trait.” he said.
His eyes search your face, all sardonic edges softened as you meet his eyes.
“You should know better than to tempt a man who spends his evenings brewing volatile substances.” he paused looking at your reaction before His voice drops further.
“Is that so” you said raising a brow.
“I did not come tonight,” he admits quietly, “because I believed you capable of sleeping without my supervision.” His hand fiddles your white nightgown that pooled on his wooden desk.
“And yet… here you are. Seeking it.”
You looked up at him with a small smile
almost teasing.
"Correction professor." You said
"I came here to check on you in return since you are one hypocrite love.” You said making Severus shift hearing the word as you continued
“Because you tell me to go to bed saying it's not good for me to stay up late, only for you to stay up this late" you grinned.
For a fleeting second, something dangerously close to a smile ghosts across his lips at the nickname he never heard someone call him that way before but it was endearing enough to be tempted…and you saying it already got his attention hooked.
“A strong accusation.”
His hand settles at your waist gently as a gentleman could muster,. His thumb shifts slightly against the fabric of your robes. Your breath hitched in a small inaudible gasp
“I instruct you to rest,” he murmurs, leaning just enough that his voice brushes your ear, “because you exhaust yourself charting constellations until dawn. You forget to eat….You forget to sleep.”
“I,” he continues, straightening slightly, eyes holding yours,
“am quite accustomed to functioning on little rest.” His gaze softens despite himself.
“Though it appears I am less accustomed to being… monitored.” His fingers tighten ever so slightly at your waist.
“You came down into the dungeons at one in the morning to ensure I was not overworking myself..
“That is either reckless… or deeply affectionate.” His dark brow arches.
“Which shall I record in my notes, Professor?”*
“Maybe you should record first is your sleep Severus" you said giving him a knowing look. "potions can wait tomorrow." You said using his way of words, quoting him basically…his eyes narrow slightly at your attempt to turn his own words against him though the faintest hint of amusement lingers beneath the surface.
“Quoting me to myself,” he murmurs. “A bold strategy.”
“I am,” he says quietly, with a touch of dry emphasis, “perfectly capable of determining when my work may be postponed.”
“And still… you insist.”
His thumb shifts slightly, almost absent-minded against your side, betraying that your presence has already disrupted whatever discipline he claimed to have.
“You should be asleep,” he adds, though the reprimand has lost all its edge. “That was, if I recall, the entire purpose of my… nightly visits.”
You hummed and shrugged a shoulder.
He studies you expression, searching, as if weighing something unspoken.
“…and yet you came for me instead.”
“If I were to humor this… intervention of yours…”
His brow lifts faintly.
“..what precisely are you proposing, Professor? That I abandon my work and allow myself to be… escorted?”
"yes professor, unless you prefer me dragging you to your quarter since... blackmailing you won't work I know" you said with a grin, you know games like this you had been a professor long enough to know People with a look in the eye.
"Which do you prefer most?" You asked moving closer fiddling with the table.
For a moment, Snape paused, finding this entertaining. “Dragging me,” he repeats softly, a trace of incredulity laced with something far more intrigued than offended. His gaze flickers down briefly to where your fingers toy with the table, then back up to meet your eyes. The corner of his mouth twitches almost a smirk, but far too restrained to fully form.
“You do seem to possess a rather… ambitious view of your capabilities, Professor.”
He steps closer just enough that the distance between them vanishes entirely. His hand at your waist steadies you as he leans in slightly, his voice dropping to that familiar, intimate murmur.
“And yet,” he adds, quieter now, “I find myself curious to see you attempt it.”
His eyes search yours, dark and unreadable, before softening just a fraction.
“However,” he continues, tone shifting less teasing, more deliberate, “I suspect neither dragging nor blackmail will be necessary.”
His hand slips away from your waist, though not without reluctance.
“I will… concede,” he says, the word clearly chosen with care, “that postponing my work for a few hours will not result in catastrophic failure.”
He straightens, regaining some of his usual composure, though his gaze lingers on you a second too long.
“Lead the way, then.”
A faint arch of his brow, voice low and smooth again:
“Since you appear so determined to ensure I follow my own advice.”
You took his hand gently to make sure he won't go back to his seat which he tried.
Snape’s hand twitched toward the cauldron again, fingers brushing the worn edge as if some invisible thread still tied him to the potion’s steady simmer. His gaze flicked toward it sharp, calculating, almost reluctant as though abandoning it for even a moment felt like a personal failing.
“I—” he began tightly, already searching for an excuse, “I forgot to cover the potion.”
He turned with deliberate precision, reaching for a cloth as if the act of leaving unfinished work behind were itself intolerable. Every movement was controlled, measured an attempt to regain dominance over his own distraction.
But your hand closed gently around his.
Firm and Certain. The motion halted him more effectively than any command ever could.
His fingers stilled mid-reach, tension tightening through his arm as his attention shifted back to you. For a moment, he simply stared, as though trying to reconcile the simplicity of the gesture with the way it unraveled his intent.
“I—there is also…” he started again, voice lower now, less certain, “the ingredients. They are… delicate tonight.”
Another excuse.
Another attempt at retreat into routine.
Sigh…Severus…
But you didn’t let go.
Instead, you guided him with quiet insistence, your hand sliding to his back, the contact steady and grounding. He stiffened at the touch just for a heartbeat like a man unused to being steered by anything other than his own will.
“The cauldron won’t walk,” you said softly, coaxing rather than commanding. “You can continue it tomorrow.”
Then, quieter…almost teasing “You’re rather stubborn for an adult.”
That finally drew a faint reaction. His jaw tightened, not in anger, but in resignation edged with reluctant awareness. His eyes lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, as though weighing the gravity of surrendering even this small piece of control.
“I am perfectly aware,” he murmured at last, voice low and restrained. Still, he didn’t resist as you guided him away from the desk.
Step by step, the pull of the potion faded behind him, replaced by something far more disarming the warmth of your hand at his back, the steady presence beside him, the unsettling ease with which you displaced his discipline.
By the time they reached the threshold of his quarters, the tension in him had not vanished but it had changed shape.
Less resistance.
He paused there, the torchlight catching the sharp lines of his face as he looked at you again longer this time, quieter.
“…Tomorrow,” he said at last, voice softer, “the potion can indeed wait.” And this time, when he finally moved forward, he did not turn back.
The door clicked shut, the soft sound echoing through Severus’s quarters and settling into the silence between them. Torchlight flickered along the stone walls, casting warm, wavering shadows that made the room feel smaller like the air itself had shifted.
You remained by the door for only a moment before moving toward him, gesturing gently for him to sit on the bed. Severus complied without protest, watching you with a quiet, unreadable stillness that never quite masked how aware he was of your presence.
Then, almost instinctively, you reached for him. Your fingers moved with careful purpose as you adjusted and unclasped his outer robes, straightening what had been slightly disheveled from the day.
It was practical, nothing more or at least that was what you told yourself at first. But the realization crept in slowly, subtle as breath: how close you were standing, how your hands lingered, how personal the act had become.
He sits on the edge of the bed, rigid in posture, eyes dark and calculating as always but tonight, they betray the faintest tremor of vulnerability. you moved with quiet efficiency, unclasping his robe as if it were the simplest task in the world, yet the brush of your fingers against his skin sends a ripple through him. The warmth of your presence, the gentleness of your touch, the sheer audacity of your care…it was intoxicating.
He does not protest. Nor because he is accustomed to this, but because the fluttering in his chest is far too distracting to resist.
A man so used to control, so used to command, finds himself willingly undone by a single, deliberate act of affection.
When you noticed his eyes widen an almost imperceptible hitch in his breath you faltered for a second, realizing the intimacy of your actions.
Yet Severus does not pull away.
If anything, his posture softens, a quiet acknowledgment that this attention, this closeness is something he rarely allows himself to feel.
“I might get used to this,” he mutters, voice low, threading the words with humor and sincerity, the attempt at a joke barely masking the truth beneath.
Your eyes flick to his, and for a long heartbeat, the room holds still two people suspended in that fragile, buzzing tension between love, desire, and trust. He shifts slightly, the barest exhale, allowing himself to relax into your care while still maintaining that shadow of his ever-present composure.
It’s intimate… delicate…. And yet, for Severus Snape, it feels… dangerously close to home, something that he didn't fear he'll fall into abyss of another harm.
You back away Alittle just one step…your hands letting go for a moment when you realized what you were doing..
"I'm sorry...I should have asked first" you said. Severus's dark eyes lock onto yours the instant you hesitated, a flash of something almost… fierce, tempered by care. His hand closes gently but firmly around your wrist, halting you to step before you can retreat further.
“You… need not apologize,” he says, voice low, velvety, carrying that rare softness reserved for you alone.
He tilts his head just slightly, studying you, reading the quick flutter in your chest and the tiny hesitation in your gaze.
The shadows of the room play over his sharp features, making his intensity almost tangible. For once, there is no sarcasm, no bite just the man beneath all that sternness.. stripped of pretense, quietly tethering you with the simple act of holding your hand.
“Do you think I would… let you leave,” he murmurs, the edge of a rare smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “after standing here, caring for me?”
His thumb brushes lightly over your skin in reassurance, the motion deliberate and grounding. The tension in the air eases just enough for you to realize that he isn’t angry, only protective and more importantly, he isn’t going anywhere.
(I mean…really…theres only one door…unless he uses the window, anyway!!)
“You are here,” he continues, softer now, “because you choose to be. And I… wish you would stay.”
His gaze held yours, unwavering, almost daring you to pull away, though the warmth in his eyes assured you that you were safe, that you are wanted, and that whatever hesitance you feel is shared, understood, and gently coaxed away.
The room hums with quiet intimacy, their hands still connected, the night holding its breath around them.
You nodded softly
"very well then" you said in a low voice almost like a whisper.
As you resumed removing his cloak and hanging it on the chair.
Severus watches your every movement, the quiet grace with which you hanged his cloak making the shadows of the room dance across your features.
The tension between them hums in the air, almost tangible, like the sharp tang of potion fumes mixed with something sweeter something unspoken and intimate.
When he speaks, it is barely more than a whisper, yet it lands with weight, pressing against the space between them.
“Have I ever told you,” he murmurs, voice low and deliberate, “that your eyes… truly hold the stars? No telescope, no magic… could capture what I see in them.”
Your hands falter slightly on the suit collar, caught between the mundane task and the gravity of his words.
The faintest blush blooms across your cheeks, and for a moment, you felt utterly exposed beneath the intensity of his gaze.
“I… no,” you stammers softly, your voice almost swallowed by the quiet of the room.
He shifted closer, the subtle scrape of his shoes against the stone floor barely audible, closing the gap until the heat from his presence brushes against yours. His dark eyes are fixed on you and only you , unrelenting yet tender, every shadow of his usual sternness softened by the warmth he cannot or will not hide.
His hand, previously resting at his side, rises slowly, deliberate, until his fingers brush a stray lock of hair from your cheek. The touch is feather-light, reverent, and it makes the room feel impossibly small, as if the walls themselves have drawn closer to witness the fragile intimacy unfolding.
“You,” he breathes, voice thick with a rare vulnerability, “are… unlike anyone I’ve ever known.”
The words hang between them, heavy and intimate, carrying more weight than any potion, any spell, any lecture he has ever given. And in that silence, the stars themselves seem to echo in the dark depths of his eyes.
You looked at him, not noticing the closeness "and why's that Severus?" You asked your eyes, glancing at his lips and his dark eyes.
Severus catches the flicker of your gaze, the subtle, dangerous drift from his eyes to his lips. For a heartbeat, he stiffens every ounce of his discipline screaming for restrain but the warmth of your presence, the blush that still lingers on your cheeks, tugs at something far older and quieter in him.
“Why…” he murmurs, voice low and rough around the edges, almost a growl swallowed beneath his calm, “because you… see things. Feel things. In a way no one else… bothers to notice. And you…”
His words falter, but the intensity in his dark gaze never wavers, the storm beneath the surface made visible only in the way his pupils darken, the faint quiver of his jaw, the slow, deliberate inhale he takes as he closes the last few inches between them.
“You move… me,” he admits, quieter than a whisper, “in ways I cannot… name.”
His hand, previously hovering, now slides gently to your cheek, thumb brushing along the soft curve, grounding yet intimate. The heat of his palm against your skin sends a flutter through you, and the closeness of his chest so near, the faint scent of potion and something uniquely him, makes the air between them thrum.
His lips are a mere breath away from yours now, and he holds your gaze, dark eyes locking with yours, testing, daring you to meet the pull he can no longer resist.
“If that is not… enough reason, I hardly know what could be.”
The room grows impossibly still around them, the tension thick, palpable, like the calm before a storm. And for once, Severus Snape allows himself to be utterly, entirely… vulnerable.
You closed the gap cupping his face gently capturing his lips so gently before Severus returned it hungrily. Something of a result of holding back too long. Severus freezes for a heartbeat as your hands cup his face, the warmth of your touch anchoring him in the moment. Then, instinct takes over something that has been simmering beneath his controlled exterior for far too long. His lips meet yours, first with a slow, cautious pressure, tasting, testing… and then with the ferocity of all the restraint he’s held in check.
It’s a kiss that speaks of years of buried desire, of longing held too tightly, of stolen glances and unspoken confessions. His hands slide to your waist, pulling you closer, letting the heat between them build without apology. The bed dips beneath them as he gradually lowers himself back, keeping you pressed against him, every inch of motion deliberate yet urgent.
When they finally break apart, just centimeters apart, his dark eyes wide, raw, and intensely alive capture yours. The faintest whisper of breath escapes him, mingling with yours in the quiet of the room.
“Oh… dear,” you murmured, the words slipping out almost involuntarily, betraying the flutter in your chest.
He leans closer again, voice a low rumble, still near your lips, still carrying the weight of his yearning.
“You… you should not do that,” he breathes, though the protest is hollow, almost teasing. “Not… not when I am this… unprepared.”
His hands linger on your back, one cupping your cheek now, the other tracing the line of your spine, both a tether and a promise. The room feels suspended, charged with the quiet intensity of two hearts finally acknowledging what’s been simmering between them for so long.
And for Severus Snape, every controlled, measured part of him trembles with the delight and danger of finally surrendering just a little to you.
"unprepared?" You asked suprised. "Sounds like I'm the one unprepared unlike you"
Severus lets out a low, almost inaudible hum, the kind that vibrates somewhere deep in his chest. His dark eyes soften, glinting with a mixture of amusement and something far more dangerous desire restrained by the faintest thread of composure.
“Unprepared…” he repeats, voice rough, almost teasing despite the fire in his gaze. “I… perhaps I should have anticipated this… but it seems,”his hand slides from you cheek to your waist, holding you just a fraction closer “that my… careful control has failed spectacularly.”
He tilts his head slightly, lips brushing a whisper away from you, close enough for the warmth of his breath to tease your skin.
“You speak as though you are the one unprepared,” he murmurs, tone deep, low, and teasingly scolding. “Yet… here you are. Courageous. Bold. And… far too irresistible.”
The corner of his mouth twitches, a rare, dark smile flickering. He leans in just a little closer, the tension of restraint threading through him like electricity, his eyes searching yours as though asking silently if you truly meant to push him this far.
“Perhaps… it is I who have underestimated you,” he whispers, voice thick, deliberate, a low rumble of both warning and admiration.
The air between them hums, the night holding its breath around the soft rustle of bedcovers and the quiet, dangerous intimacy of two people finally letting the world fall away.
you looked at him. You smiled at him "I never expected you'd love me back.." you said with truth and pain in your disbelief.
Severus freezes for the briefest moment, his dark eyes locking onto yours. Your words hang in the air, fragile yet bold, and for once, all of his usual composure falters. The sharpness that usually shields him melts into something raw, something entirely unguarded.
“You… expected otherwise?” he murmurs, voice low and husky, each word deliberate, as if tasting the confession before letting it leave his lips.
He leans closer, the faint brush of his nose against you making the air between them electric. His hand moves slowly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, lingering at your cheek with a tenderness that betrays the storm beneath his exterior.
“I…” he begins, dark eyes flicking to your lips, then back to your eyes, “I have… never been one to… display affection frivolously.”
The corners of his mouth twitch, almost breaking into a small, private smile reserved for you alone.
“But you…” His fingers tighten slightly on your waist, drawing you a fraction closer. “…you are not frivolous. You have always… been… significant.”
He pauses, letting the weight of the words settle, the room heavy with quiet intimacy, their breaths mingling.
“And,” he murmurs, almost a whisper, “…I have loved you, in the ways that… matter. In ways I… never thought I could.”
His eyes search yours, dark, intense, and undeniably sincere a man who has spent years mastering every emotion finally allowing himself to speak the one truth he never could hide from you.
The tension softens just enough for a faint, almost imperceptible smile to grace his lips, as if admitting a secret he’s carried alone for far too long.
"well, now you know...that I feel that same Severus" you said gently placing your hand on his cheek brushing away his hair with a small lovesick smile.
Severus catches the soft brush of your hand against his cheek, the tender motion unraveling the last threads of his restraint. Your small, lovesick smile sends a shiver down his spine, and for a heartbeat, he simply drinks you, the curve of your lips, the warmth of your touch, the halo of hair splayed across the bed like a crown.
"This is rather... scandalous don't you think?" You said Alittle shy. After all you two are professors of a school and rumors are…indescribable fast.
He leans closer, the air between them charged and heavy, every breath shared in that quiet space. He held your leg raising it to give him room, his dark eyes flick to you with a mixture of restrained amusement and undeniable desire.
“Scandalous,” he murmurs, voice low, velvet-dark, a trace of a smirk tugging at his lips, “is one word for it.”
His fingers trace the line of your jaw with deliberate care, a slow, measured touch that contrasts sharply with the heat simmering beneath the surface. He hovers just above yours, the faint scent of your skin mingling with the lingering traces of potion and the night, making it impossible to think rationally.
“And yet,” he adds, eyes locking on yours, “it seems… entirely… unavoidable.”
There’s a pause as his gaze softens just a fraction, the storm behind his dark eyes tempered by tenderness. His lips hover over yours, barely an inch away, every muscle coiled in tension, waiting for permission or perhaps daring you to take the next step.
Even in the quiet intimacy of his quarters, the night feels electric, each heartbeat syncing with the unsaid confession: that this… this moment, scandalous as it may be, is exactly where they both belong.
You gave him the permission to kiss you Severus’s lips linger near yours, tasting the permission you offered, the warmth of your skin searing through every careful layer of his restraint. His dark eyes darken further, pupils dilated, every inch of him leaning into the closeness, the intimacy he’s long denied himself. For a fleeting moment, the world narrows to nothing but the rise and fall of your chest, the soft brush of your hair, the intoxicating scent that clings to you.
Then, just as suddenly, you broke the kiss, with grin mischievous and teasing. His chest tightens, a groan of both frustration and amusement escaping him as you spoke.
“Not to spoil the fun… but… I think you better rest, Severus.”
The words land like a spell, precise and unyielding. For a heartbeat, he freezes, gaze flicking to you with a mixture of disbelief and mock outrage. Then a low, dark chuckle escapes him, rich with humor and exasperation.
“Curse you,” he mutters under his breath, throwing his head back against the pillow, letting out a dramatic groan. “You remembered… as if that will… make it easier!”
Even as he curses, the corners of his lips twitch into a reluctant, dark grin. The tension between them lingers, the playful spark in your eyes fueling a warmth in him he cannot deny, even as exhaustion tugs at the edges of his control.
He settles back, though still close enough that every subtle movement of you brushes against him, the night still crackling with unspoken promises, desire, and that delicate thread of intimacy only they share.
You chuckled at his damatics, you shifted closer to him placing your head on his chest.
Severus feels the shift before it fully settles the soft weight of your head on his chest, the subtle warmth pressing against him. His hand, almost instinctively, moves to rest atop yourd, fingers brushing along yours with careful gentleness. For a man so used to control, the sensation of your trust, so close and intimate, is quietly disarming.
"Don't worry Im not going anywhere" you said
“Hm…” he murmurs, voice low and rough, a soft exhale betraying the faintest crack in his usual composure. “I suppose… that is… acceptable.”
He tilts his head slightly, listening to the steady rise and fall of your breathing, the quiet sound grounding him in a way no potion, no book, no spell ever could. The room is hushed, the only movement the slow, subtle shift of their bodies as they settle together under the dim torchlight.
He allows himself a rare, almost imperceptible smile at that, dark eyes glancing down at you. The tension, the longing, the storm that had raged moments before now softens into something quieter something he has long denied himself but now… finds undeniably necessary.
“Good,” he murmurs, voice almost a purr of contentment. “Because… neither am I.”
He adjusts slightly, letting you shift closer, fingers entwining gently, every inch of him relaxing just enough to savor this closeness, the trust, the quiet intimacy of simply being together.
For Severus Snape, it is both a surrender and a quiet victory, a moment of peace stolen from a life usually filled with shadow.
A little note?
He did sleep rather deeply holding you like for the first time of his life he managed to get a proper rest knowing he is safe in your arms.
