if you could make one where Elijah is a professor at the Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted,and has a favourite f/student
The Heat in His Life
Summary: Elijah has a particularly fiery werewolf student who gets a little extra needy when the full moon is around.
Elijah couldn't explain what he felt for Y/N, she wasn't top of the class or especially talented compared to other students. If anything she was a little trouble maker.
But she wasn't like the other ones in class.
When he questioned her, she'd always have something witty to say back.
She almost never had her homework but somehow always knew what the answers were to it, or at least had some sort of answer that would be technically correct so Elijah wouldn't be able to tell her off.
It was as if she knew exactly how to play the system.
Werewolves were always his trickiest students, they got a little more aggressive about things than others and when it got close to the full moon they'd get more and more touchy. But the female werewolf students also got a little more needy around the full moon.
Some of them got a couple extra days off school near the time.
When it got close to, Elijah could feel the heat rolling off her. He'd see the boys in the class perk up and get all over her. He'd have to remind everyone back to their seats and try focus back on the lesson.
But at the end he'd see those amber eyes on him, asking for him.
"Y/N, don't you have another lesson?" He questioned, rising from his seat and clearing his throat as he smoothed his tie down.
"No." Her head shook, her eyes looking up at him from her chair. "Don't have to be in lessons this week." She shrugged and he nodded because it was very obvious she was in no state to be in class. She'd barely been conscious the past hour, breathing laboured and eyes trailing over the male wolves but they'd always find their way back to him.
"Yet you've come to mine." He countered, making the brave choice to come to her desk, glancing to the empty pages before her. "Would you like me to call a family member, Y/N?" Elijah questioned, voice laced with concern.
Her head shook and he frowned, she was practically curled into her seat, her arms wrapped around her aching tummy.
"Maybe a friend?" He offered, squatting down beside her. Her scent was flooding his nose but if anybody had mastered self-control it was Elijah and he'd had many students in heat before.
"Need you." She whined quietly and he softened slightly, his fingers tapping against the desk before he shuffled close enough for her to lean against him. He didn't hug her back but he let her rest against him for a moment.
"You need to get to your dorm, darling. I can go to the nurse's office and get you some meds to calm the heat and the pain down and have a runner bring it to you." He smiled, he knew that isn't what she wanted but he had a class to teach next and he could not be helping a student through a heat.
That would cost him his job and compromise his highly regarded morals.
Elijah came to work there to give a little back to the supernatural community and to show some equality to all of the different species.
Not to take advantage of his students.
So for a couple of heats he'd just make sure she went back to her dorm and had someone bring her some things to ease off the power of the full moon.
And inevitably a few days later when he'd look out of his window in thought, a little wolf would be stood a few metres away from the front porch of his house, just staring up at him.
For the rest of each month she'd have the same fire as usual, fling things across the room just before he could physically see so he couldn't tell her off. Snapping back at anybody that said something she didn't agree with.
Sometimes Elijah tried to convince himself he only felt the attraction when she was in heat but it didn't explain why he'd have his fist around his cock at least twice a week locked in his office after hours with the thought of her in his mind.
Secretly he loved the way she could command a room, rile everybody up, then just walk off like she was the most innocent of angels.
And then she really would look all sweet and soft when she was in heat. It made her weak and needy like a puppy rather than a wolf.
He enjoyed both sides of her.
But he had never planned to act on either.
She just wouldn't leave him alone.
He hadn't expected to get to his office, ready to mark all of the dozens of papers, only to find Y/N already in there.
The summer made it so much harder. For all the wolves. That's why it had become a breeding season of sorts, the school was starting to get concerned with the amount of wolf pregnancies.
At least Elijah couldn't get her pregnant.
Thank fuck for him he couldn't get her pregnant.
Because there was absolutely no chance he was turning her away that time.
He had her bent right over his desk, listening to her whine and beg whilst he knelt down behind her and buried his face between her ass. Tongue lapping up between her folds and groaning at the taste of her.
"More..." She cried, "needa be full."
"I know, angel." He mumbled, sucking on her cunt from behind.
And soon enough he gave her what she wanted.
Had her on the carpeted floor, bucking his hips rapidly up into her as she rode his cock desperately. Poor thing was exhausted; Elijah had his hands on her tits, stopping them from bouncing too aggressively.
"You'll hurt yourself, darling." He murmured softly when she tried to spin around, get a new angle. It made Elijah chuckled quietly and lifted her off his cock, shushing her whimpers and flipping her back onto her belly to thrust himself back into her from behind, pounding into her until she was drunk on his cum.
So full and whining about being bred.
"Shh.." He'd whisper gently, stroking her hair as she lay half asleep still on his office floor. "It's alright."
"Need 'em." She mumbled, her eyes drooped as she panted quietly and kept reaching for his other hand.
"Such a needy wolf you are." He muttered as he brought his hand back to her swollen pussy, her legs always spreading for his touch. His fingers slipped straight to her entrance, stroking her from the inside and gently bringing her to another climax. Toying with her poor clit until she was just sweat and tears.
By morning he'd brought her to his house. It was too risky going into her dorm room with her, if someone saw he'd be done for, so he brought her somewhere safer.
Safer for them both.
And so, she started heading to his home instead of his office each month, trembling in his bed instead of his floor.
Eventually she started going there without the moons pull.
Elijah couldn't help but welcome her.
Perhaps his self-control wasn't as faultless as he once believed.
Hi!! If it’s okay, can I please request a Klaus x fem!human!reader where where she’s very sweet and soft, opposite to how Klaus is with others, and they’re engaged and his family treats her as their own family? He gave her a necklace with his blood in it just in case, and she ends up having to use it when an enemy kidnaps her and Klaus saves her and also helps her adjust to being a vampire? She’s struggling with being a vampire and also the trauma of how it happened 🥺
─── 🩸 ───
Vial
─── 🩸 ───
Summery: You were his soft harbor; he was the tempest. When an enemy tries to break Klaus by taking your life, the protective necklace he gave you changes your destiny forever.
Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x f!reader
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Trauma Recovery, soft klaus, Supernatural Awakening
The scent of oil paints, turpentine, and old canvas usually brought an instant sense of peace to your chest—it was the distinct aroma of Klaus’s private sanctuary, a place where the rest of the world was violently shut out. But tonight, the air inside the compound’s studio felt stiflingly thick, scraping against the back of your throat like sandpaper.
You sat curled on the edge of a velvet, deep-crimson sofa, your knees pulled tightly to your chest. Your hands were shaking so violently that the delicate silver chain dangling from your fingers clicked rhythmically against your fingernails. At the end of that chain hung a small, ornate glass vial. It had once held a single, vibrant drop of Klaus’s blood—a protective talisman he had fastened around your neck months ago with a fierce, desperate tenderness.
“Just in case, love,” he had whispered, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of your collarbone, his hands unusually gentle as he secured the clasp. “Because the world I inhabit is monstrous, riddled with ancient grudges and petty beasts, and you are entirely too good for it. Wear it, and know that my life flows with yours.”
You had never wanted to use it. You never intended to.
In the chaotic, blood-soaked world of the Mikaelson family, you had always been the quiet harbor. You were sweet-natured, soft-spoken, and possessed a gentle empathy that defied the centuries of cynicism surrounding the Original family. You were the exact opposite of Klaus—where he was a tempest of rage, paranoia, and sharp, defensive edges, you were patience and warmth. And because of that, his family hadn't just accepted you; they had fiercely adopted you into their ranks.
Elijah always greeted you with a genuine, protective warmth, treating you with the utmost reverence. Rebekah had practically burst into tears of joy when Klaus announced your engagement, immediately dragging you out for wedding planning and treating you like the sister she had spent a thousand years praying for. Even Kol, with all his chaotic, malicious energy, would consciously tone down his wildness the moment you walked into a room, offering you a crooked, genuine smile instead of a threat. They loved your humanity. They guarded it like the rarest gem in existence because your purity was the one thing keeping their fractured family anchored.
Until the monsters cracked open your sanctuary.
An old enemy of Klaus’s—a vampire seeking a devastating, poetic vengeance against the Great Evil Hybrid—had realized that the easiest way to break Niklaus Mikaelson was not to strike at his chest, but to tear away his heart. They had snatched you from the edge of the French Quarter in broad daylight.
The memory of the abduction was a terrifying, fragmented blur. You remembered the sudden, suffocating grip of cold hands, the smell of damp earth and rot, and the agonizing, sharp snap of your bones before absolute darkness swallowed you whole. You had woken up hours later in a desolate, stone-walled basement, your throat burning with an unholy, volcanic thirst. In a panic, realizing you were dying with Klaus's blood already in your system from a desperate, final bite to the vial around your neck during the struggle, you had been forced to cross a line you never wanted to cross. You had fed to complete the transition.
Klaus had torn the city apart to find you. By the time he located the compound where they held you, his rage had reached biblical proportions. He didn't just kill your captors; he dismantled them, painting the stone walls with their blood until there was nothing left of the threat. He had scooped your trembling, newly immortal body into his arms, whispering breathless, frantic apologies against your hair as he carried you back to the safety of the compound.
But while the physical danger was gone, the horror was just beginning.
A soft, hesitant knock rattled the heavy oak doorframe of the studio, breaking you from the agonizing loop of your own thoughts. You flinched, the sound echoing in your ears like a thunderclap.
Klaus stood in the doorway. The terrifying, apex-predator aura that usually defined him was completely stripped away. He looked entirely undone—his curls slightly disheveled, his dark jacket discarded, and his eyes reflecting a raw, aching vulnerability that he only ever allowed you to see. He approached you with agonizing slowness, carefully telegraphing every movement as if he were tracking a wounded, frightened animal.
He sank to his knees on the floor directly in front of you, bridging the distance between your bodies but giving you space to breathe. He reached out, his large, warm hands hovering for a fraction of a second before gently, reverently cupping them over your trembling ones.
"Hey," he murmured. His voice was incredibly low, a velvety, soothing rasp reserved solely for you. "You're shaking, love. Talk to me."
"I can hear everything, Klaus," you whispered, your voice cracking as a hot, heavy tear slipped down your cheek. The sensation of the tear felt magnified, like a trail of liquid fire against your skin. "I can hear the frantic flapping of a moth's wings three blocks away. I can hear the structural creaking of the house. And downstairs... I can hear the heavy, rhythmic rush of Rebekah’s blood. It's so loud. It’s all so loud. And my chest... it feels like it's burning. I feel like I'm trapped inside a stranger's body."
Klaus’s heart fractured at the sheer agony in your voice. The sweet, gentle woman he adored was drowning in the sensory nightmare of a newborn vampire, her mind hopelessly haunted by the violence of how her humanity had been stolen.
"I know, I know it's overwhelming," Klaus said softly, shifting closer and pressing a tender, lingering kiss to your knuckles. "When you transition, everything is amplified a thousand times over. Your senses are raw, and your emotions... the terror you felt in that dark room, the panic—it’s magnifying right now, feeding on your new instincts. But I need you to listen to the sound of my voice, Y/N. You are home. You are safe. I swear to you on my own life, no one will ever lay a hand on you again."
"But I didn't want this," you sobbed, the dam finally breaking as tears began to stream freely down your face. Your heightened emotions made the grief feel entirely consuming, like an ocean dragging you under. "I wanted to grow old with you, Klaus. I wanted to have a quiet life, to walk in the sun, to just be... me. Now I'm a monster. I have this horrible, dark hunger inside of me. I'm just like the things that threw me into that basement."
Klaus flinched, a flash of genuine pain crossing his features at your words, but he didn't pull away. Instead, he moved onto the couch beside you, gently but firmly cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs wiped at the tears tracking down your cheeks, forcing your wide, dilated eyes to lock onto his.
"Look at me, Y/N. Look into my eyes," he commanded, his tone a fierce mix of authority and desperate love. "You could never be a monster. Do you hear me? The blood running through your veins might be mine, but your soul is entirely your own. The hunger is just biology, love—it is a craving, a beast we can tame. But it does not change the purity of your heart. You are the kindest, most beautiful grace in my long, miserable existence. Becoming a vampire changes what you are, not who you are."
He slid his arms around your waist, pulling your fragile, trembling frame flush against his chest. You didn't resist; you buried your face into the crook of his neck, your fingers gripping his shirt so tightly the fabric strained. You breathed him in—the scent of cedarwood, expensive bourbon, and the comforting familiarity of him—using it as an anchor against the storm in your mind. He wrapped his strong arms around you, rocking you back and forth in a slow, soothing rhythm.
"We are going to take this one hour at a time, one day at a time," Klaus whispered fiercely into your hair, his lips pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. "You are not alone in this. Elijah is already down in the library, gathering old Grimoires and texts on emotional grounding to help you learn control. Rebekah is absolutely furious at what happened to you, and she’s already demanding we redecorate the east wing with heavy blackout velvet if the morning light hurts your eyes. Even Kol is out hunting down the remaining sycophants who planned the ambush. You are a Mikaelson now, Y/N. Truly and fully. And this family protects its own with everything we have."
He pulled back just enough to look down at you, taking the empty silver necklace from your hand. With steady, practiced fingers, he reached around your neck and gently refastened the clasp, letting the empty glass vial rest against your collarbone once more.
"You used my blood because you wanted to stay with me," Klaus murmured, his eyes dark with an unyielding devotion. "You fought through the dark to come back to me. Now, let me fight for you. Let me carry the weight of this hunger until you are strong enough to hold it yourself."
For the first time since you had opened your eyes to this new, terrifying reality, the deafening roar of the world outside began to fade. The ambient noises of the French Quarter receded into the background, drowned out entirely by the steady, comforting, and unbreakable beat of the Hybrid’s heart against your ear. You weren't okay, and the trauma of the stone basement would take time to heal—but looking into Klaus’s fiercely protective eyes, you knew you wouldn't have to navigate the shadows alone.
summary: you had been raised to hunt vampires. kill them before they killed you. yet the truth was not true. your parents came from a long lineage of vampire hunters and when they found out you had not only sided with them but protected them, they knew they had to save their little girl—even if it meant torturing her
pairing: elijah mikaelson x fem! reader
words: 900
a/n: for the sake of the fic reader’s name is salem. tw torture and not entirely proofread
Your head was pounding. You could feel everything pulsing as you slowly regained your consciousness. Your lids felt heavy, your neck hurt from your head resting on your chest. You opened your eyes to see where you were but you could only make faint lines of your surroundings. Everything was blurry, everything was dark. With half open eyes you scanned your surroundings but there was only stone. A cellar made out of dark stone, shackles fused to the walls.
My cellar? You thought as you slowly moved your head, two dark figures standing in front of you.
“Who are you?”
“Sweetheart…”
You knew that voice. The voice that taught you. The voice that read you bedtime stories. The voice that told you that you were born to be one thing and one thing only.
“Mom?” Your voice, dry and hoarse, barely managing to speak as your body was still not in its usual state.
“I’m so sorry, honey.” Your mother knelt before you, brushing back your sweat-drenched hair like she was still a little girl waking up from a bad dream; but the warmth was gone.
“What? What are you– Why can’t I move?” You tried standing up but you were chained to the chair.
“We are going to fix you.”
Dad?
“I’m sorry sweetheart but we had no other choice,” your father came forward, the ceiling light barely illuminating his face. “We had to drug you to get you here.”
“Drug me? What is this—?” You pulled against the chains, “What the fuck is going on?”
“You were raised to be strong!” His voice was deep and loud, echoing between the walls. “To protect our family’s legacy. And then you go and side with them. With our enemies!”
“No.” You breathed. “You raised me to be a killer.”
The slap came fast and sharp. Your head snapped to the side, your cheek burned as a tear fell down your face.
“You are sick, Salem.” Your mother sighed. Her face showed that she cared but her soul felt different.
Your father crouched before you, gripping your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. His face, his eyes, everything about him was stone-cold. “They got inside your head.” His tone almost mocking. “Those vampires…those monsters you call friends.”
“They are.”
Crack
“Ahh!” You cried out as his belt hit your skin. Your fingernails were digging into your skin as you clenched your teeth. “WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS!”
“Do you know why we named you ‘Salem?’” Your mother’s hand cupped your face as you tried to escape her touch. “You were named after the witch trials. The greatest supernatural genocide in history. Your name carries the very thing you were meant to do. Why are you trying to fight us, sweetheart? You were born for this. We have trained you since you were born. How could you possibly be so naive to believe that they care about you?”
“I was brainwashed by you and your stupid legacy. I opened my eyes and saw the truth. You are the monsters. Not them.”
Another lash on your back. Your body convulsed against the chains, the pain searing through your veins. You cried out hoping that someone could hear your screams but it was useless. Your family had built this cellar with just that in mind; for no one to hear, so that no one can be saved.
“You can lash me all you want but it won’t change the fact that whilst they were protecting me with their lives, you are the ones causing me harm. You are the monsters; and no matter how often you look in the mirror, you will always be tainted by all the evil you have done.”
You screamed at the agonising pain that had burned into your skin. Red, bloody, raw. Like fire had ignited. Even criminals weren’t treated like this by officers and they were your parents…
To save your body from further harm, you saw blackness pool around your sight as you slowly fell unconscious, your head feeling heavy as your vision faded into complete darkness
You didn’t know how long you had been drifting in and out of consciousness, the room always dark and damp, no sense of time.
But then you heard it. The sound of footsteps coming closer as two loud thuds erupted. Bodies hitting the floor. Someone was here.
“Where is she?”
Your heart clenched. Elijah.
And then suddenly you felt the warmth of his hands on your face, his voice gentler than before. “Salem, can you hear me?” He softly hit her cheeks. “Hey. Salem.”
You forced your eyes open. His face was blurry but his cologne sent a wave of safety through your body. “You found me…”
“Always.”
Elijah ripped the chains from your skin, immediately collapsing against him, your body trembling. You buried your head in his chest, his arms engulfing you carefully, the wounds on your back still fresh. “Here,” Elijah bit his wrists and placed it to your lips. As you drank his blood you could feel the wound closing, the pain subsiding within a matter of seconds.
“Come on, I'm taking you home,” Elijah murmured into your hair. “You’re safe now.”
As you turned around you saw your parents slumped against the walls. Elijah stared at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “Do you want me to kill them?”
You stared at them as a single tear slipped down your cheek. And then with a voice utterly empty, “They’re already dead to me.” You walked past them, not an ounce of empathy left for them, and left them to save themselves.
⟢ ── only child. cancer. velvet & pearls. jeff buckley. old soul. antique collector. secondhand books. new orleans native. makeup. tarot cards. red wine. typewriter. balcony gardens. moonlight swims. chronic daydreamer. “pinky promise?”
⟢ ── soulmates. fastburn.
SOULMATE!READER ...
is waiting.
has been waiting, actually, for as long as she can remember.
not the impatient kind of waiting. no, hers is a bit quieter. softer. the kind of waiting that one does when they are sure that something grand and life changing will happen to them.
she pours coffee and feels it. walks through the French Quarter at dawn, the streets still wet from the night before, and feels it. sits on her balcony with a glass of red wine, the moon hanging low and heavy over the Mississippi, and feels it.
something is coming.
someone.
(hopefully).
her grandmother used to tell her stories about the old magic about soulmates, about bonds that transcend lifetimes, about the way the universe sometimes reaches down and decides that two people are simply meant to find each other.
you'll know, she'd say, her weathered hands cupping your face, her eyes gone soft and distant. you'll know because the world will go quiet. and then it will start singing.
you'd believed her, once. when you were small and the world still made sense and you had dreams of this mystery man. back when magic was something that lived in fairy tales and your grandmother's voice.
but then she died, and the years passed, and the dreams stopped happening, and the humming beneath your skin became something you learned to ignore.
you built a life instead.
a small one, maybe. a quiet one. but yours nonetheless.
your café sits on a corner in the Garden District, all exposed brick and mismatched furniture, books stacked on every available surface, fresh flowers on every table. it's the kind of place that people stumble into and never quite want to leave. you open it every morning before the sun is fully up, brew coffee that tastes like chicory and honey and play jazz so old it sounds like it was pressed onto vinyl by ghosts.
you know your regulars by name. you know which ones need silence and which ones need to talk. you know how to read a room the way other people read books. you have multiple friends you love.
you are, by all accounts, content.
you have new orleans after all, which is its own kind of magic.
you have learned to love this city the way you imagine you might love a person. completely, despite its flaws, in a way that makes leaving unthinkable.
you have learned to stop waiting.
or so you tell yourself.
because the truth is, you still catch yourself looking. scanning crowds on busy afternoons, searching faces in the flickering light of a jazz club, holding your breath every time someone new walks through the café door. you still feel the pull of something you can't name, something that tugs at your chest like a tide, something that whispers not yet but soon.
you still believe, even when you tell yourself you don't.
and then one day, he walks in.
and the world goes quiet.
the jazz fades. the rain outside mutes to a hush.
he's tall. dark hair, sharp suit, devilishly handsome. his eyes find yours immediately, like he knew exactly where to look, like he's been looking for a very, very long time.
and you know.
you know more than anything you’ve ever known before that he’s the one.
and eventually, you fall in love with him the way you fell in love with new orleans. slowly, then all at once, in a way that makes leaving him unthinkable.
you fall in love with him because he's been waiting too.
and he was absolutely, without a doubt, worth the wait.
author's note —hellooo! i need to help revive the originals + vampire diaries fandom on here, so hope you are hype for this series! feel free to send requests for soulmate!reader and i will get to them as soon as possible. check out this series as well as my other works on my masterlist! much love, & i hope you enjoy!
Oooo if it’s okay (sorry for the rambling!!) can I please request a Kol x fem!reader where she’s Elena and Jeremy’s older sister who was previously lived at her collage campus but moved back home after their parents died. She is very sweet, soft, and kind hearted so her siblings and Damon and Stefan try to keep her away from all their violent supernatural plans. Like she wasn’t supposed to be home during their plan to kill Kol but she came home early and stops them from killing Kol, and he grabs her and speeds out of the Gilbert house before anyone can stop him. He’d be confused why she saved his life and is so kind to him, and he’d be drawn to her innocence and really wants to keep her with him, he’d be all flirty yet softly dominant and intimidating it’d be all beauty and the beast-like and she wouldn’t want to leave when her siblings and the Salvatore brothers find her😍
Divine Intervention
Words: 3211
Summary: After returning to Mystic Falls following the death of your parents, you’ve spent years unknowingly living amongst the supernatural secrets carefully hidden from you by Elena, Jeremy and their friends. But when you come home early and interrupt their plan to kill Kol Mikaelson, everything changes.
Tags: (no smut) holding hands, carrying, straddling, crying, angst, soft dominance, intimate touching, Stockholm syndrome (fun fact, it’s not an official mental health diagnosis)
A/N: despite writing in second person singular, I still gave the character a name (Aria) because I dislike writing Y/N, I hope it’s no problem! (also it’s a bit rushed sorry)
Kol Mikaelson x Fem!Reader
You didn’t unpack grief the way you did your suitcase a few years ago when news were evinced your parents had died.
A tragic death, too.
It had been approximately three years since your residence in Mystic Falls, hugging your old friends goodbye at your college campus. Friends you had just recently made in a new city, only to bid farewell a few months later to return to the idyllic Southern facade of a town — Mystic Falls.
And there you had resided, taking care of the last two close family members of yours.
Despite the fact you’d been living there since childhood and, well, three years now, you weren’t aware of the creatures that roamed the town restlessly while you were asleep, or better yet, wide awake, going on about your casual day.
Therefore, it was safe to say Damon and Stefan had done a great job at concealing such dark secrets as Elena had begged them to, whether it was through compulsion or relentless insistence that you stay somewhere else while they walked into another supernatural errand.
But not anymore.
Because tonight was the night Elena and Jeremy could finally put an end to their rather vexing obstacle that’d been hindering everyone from the cure for vampirism.
Kol.
When you opened the front door, you expected nothing less than the quiet home you’d grown up in and the hooting of owls that usually signaled the nightfall.
Quiet, hushed, almost whispering secrets that weren’t meant for your ears.
Instead— pandemonium.
Your brother, the boy who used to sneak in smoke sessions in a fit of teen angst, grabbing hold of a sharp, wooden weapon.
And Elena, the usually compassionate, young girl, enabling Jeremy to do so while holding down a guy who looked pretty young.
He was struggling. Despite his simmering anger beneath, you saw the spark of fear that flashed in his eyes when the youngest Gilbert raised the weapon and—
Push.
All three were too absorbed in the quarrel to see you advancing on Jeremy, his back hitting the counter with a sudden grunt, the wooden stake falling to the ground with a sharp thud.
“Aria, no!” Elena roared, her voice raw and nerve-wrecking before a large hand engulfed that mouth of hers.
Kol’s hand found its way to Elena’s nape, twisting her head in a breath until her body dropped to the floor like the ends of a burnt cigarette.
He should’ve killed them, perhaps a generosity— no, he should have tied them up, performed medieval executions, tortured the two until they grasped at the last moment of pleasure amidst all the agony before death swallowed them whole, only for Kol to feed them back to life and do it all over again.
But he didn’t. Not when he saw their sister.
Jeremy had pushed you off in a fit of pique and desperation to continue their murder attempt, only to see nothing remaining of both the first and the second obstacle.
Before you could sit up, Kol blurs you both, trees, lamplights and houses streaking past in a flash. The world snapped back when he’d thrown you unceremoniously onto his bed, king sized with a rosewood canopy hanging over it, a Persian rug on the floor adorning its ancient living.
You exhaled, long and caught in your lungs full with disorientation and something else that hinted fear.
“What just—“ You looked up at the same man standing before you, his smile tender but not quite reaching his eyes, frame dominating yours as he towered over you.
He stepped closer to the bed, grabbing your ankles when you tried to scramble away. “No, no, darling, stay here.” He mused.
He stayed there, positioned between your legs and watched the girl underneath him, the spitting image of Elena.
Rage like nothing before built up again until he looked into your eyes again, really looked, and saw the softness that lay beneath the terror.
Perhaps you were nothing like Elena.
Your brown hair, a little lighter than your sister’s, was sprawled all over his mattress, almond irises staring back as if everything else became trivial now.
Your brows knit together, hands trembling violently, and you swallowed a thick chunk as his gaze draped over your lightly-freckled nose.
His grin didn’t waver, only grew. “Well, hello there.”
Like scuff against your windpipe, you whispered. “Where am I?”
“In my junction, sweetheart. Where brave and stupid girls come and go,” he traced your jaw, the silence electrifying. “and don’t live long enough to tell the tale.”
His hands reached for the spasms that had reached yours, interlocking them on each side of your face against the mattress and leaning down until your breaths mingled. “You saved me.”
Barely perceptible, you nodded. “I-I didn’t know what they were doing. I thought you needed my help.”
“You trust people too easily.”
“You’re not bad.”
“Darling, I am. I’m also quite surprised that there’s one person in the family without virtue signaling traits.” He sucked in a dramatic, pausing breath and continued. “See, I was initially planning on gouging their eyes out; alive.”
You flinched. He liked it.
“But then you saved me,” he dragged his finger up your arm, reaching your neck and pressing lightly on the pulse. “And how could I resist such a delicious, beautiful angel?”
Then, the question that hung between you finally fell from your lips, reluctant and stomach churning with agitation. “What are you?”
“That’s the question, isn’t it?” He flashed a mean smirk, taunting and soft simultaneously. “I assume neither your friends nor siblings have told you. Perhaps unfairly — knowledge is power.”
You waited, chin quaking with threatening tears.
“I’m a vampire, love.” With his thumb, he caught a tear before it fell all the way, cradling the back of your head with his large hand. “And so is your sister.”
“W-what?”
“And that nuisance of a bastard, Damon with his brooding brother, Stefan. And the bimbo doll, Coraline, was it?”
“Caroline…” You tilted your head with dumbfoundedness, not looking to correct him but to confirm you were talking about the same blonde girl with whom you used to play tea parties as children. “Forbes?”
“Just about right.”
“No— no, it can’t be. You’re lying. I watched them grow up!”
You found herself clamming up again, not because you’d been interjected with a verbal explanation, but because you saw the veins appearing underneath the man’s eyes, the whites surrounding his pupils now a hot color of red.
Eyes widened like a scared kitten’s when his elongated fangs shimmered cruelly, meant to coax you into surrender.
His impish smile was all white and sharp teeth.
You should have scrambled away, every instinct buried deep within flesh and bone screamed at you to run.
A predator stood before you.
Not metaphorically, not figuratively.
A genuine monster, pulled straight from the sort of stories mothers tell children around campfires to keep them from wandering too far into the woods.
Yet your body remained rooted where it was.
Terrified. Absolutely terrified. But rooted all the same.
Your gaze remained fixed on the veins spiderwebbing beneath his eyes, on the unnatural red staining the whites, on the elongated fangs that protruded past lips far too beautiful for something so dangerous.
The realization settled inside your stomach like a stone.
You finally understood.
The impossible, the absurd, hell, the thing that should not exist.
And yet it was standing right in front of you, towering over you as your lungs struggled to draw in enough air.
The canopy above blurred slightly as tears gathered along your lash line, your gaze darting from his eyes to the fangs protruding from his mouth.
He looked pleased, and it wasn’t because you were afraid, but because he’d proven his point.
The realization only made your stomach twist harder.
You pushed yourself backward on instinct, palms pressing against the silk sheets until your shoulders met the carved headboard.
There was nowhere else to go.
Kol noticed. Of course he did.
The smile lingering on his mouth softened by a fraction. “Now then,” he mused, tilting his head. “Do you still think I’m lying?”
You swallowed hard. “No.” The word emerged small and sheepishly honest.
His grin widened. “Good.”
Your gaze dropped to his strong, dangerous hands. The same ones that had snapped Elena’s neck without a second thought.
Your pulse fluttered wildly, realization dawning on you. “You killed people.” The accusation slipped out before you could stop it.
Silence.
When you looked up again, the amusement had vanished from his face.
“I’ve killed many people.” The answer came easily, far too easily.
You should hate him. You should. Yet all you could think about was Jeremy raising that stake with active aid of Elena. About the fear you’d seen flash across Kol’s face for a split second before you’d shoved your brother away.
The memory made your chest ache. “You were going to die.”
His brows lifted suddenly. Of all the responses he could have expected, that clearly wasn’t one of them. “What?”
Back pressed firmly against the headboard, you gathered enough courage to meet his gaze. “You were trapped.” You hated the way your voice shook, but proceeded nonetheless. “They were holding you down.”
A crease appeared between his brows.
You continued before you could lose your nerve. “I’m not saying you’re a good person. I don’t know you.”
His eyes darkened with interest.
“But…” You glanced away for a moment. “I didn’t think it was right.”
The room fell quiet.
Only the crackling fire downstairs and the distant rustling of branches outside disturbed the silence.
Kol stared. You could feel it.
Feel those ancient eyes searching your face for something. Perhaps a lie, stupidity or even a hidden motive, but to no avail.
Instead, all he found was a frightened girl trying very hard not to cry.
Your thrumming pulse only intensified his hunger, but he found himself rather softened by your words rather than famished.
He couldn’t help it. He loved divine interventions, always had a knack for angels, but you had that touch of human to you no angel could compare to.
As the last resort to repel you through fear-mongering, he stepped closer and loomed over you like a sleep paralysis incarnate.
When your small hands reached to rest themselves on his chest, his stomach did a humiliating flip; god, you were beautifully innocent.
“I won’t hurt you, darling.” His whisper blew softly into your parted lips. You inhaled it like a promise. “Though hurting mortals has become rather common now.”
“But it shouldn’t be.” Your voice carried a heavy tone of pity, an emotion he’d normally abhor. “Thank you.” You whispered back, quiet and with genuine gratitude.
“I do believe you deserve to be filled in on this town’s deepest secrets.” He finally stood up, letting the oxygen that had thinned out in the proximity now return. You sighed with relief, closing your eyes for a moment before sitting up yourself.
Your tears couldn’t help but fall silently as he told you everything he knew from start to finish, guilt gnawing at your very core like maggots eating the flesh of a dead animal until only bones remain. You genuinely believed you were doing a good job protecting your younger siblings, only to be slapped in the face with something as cruel as reality.
You held your knees against your chest, fidgeting with one of his antiques in one hand as he familiarized you with the environment you yourself didn’t know you were amidst.
“Careful with that.”
Your hands instantly withdrew. “Sorry.”
“I didn’t say put it down.” His voice softened. “I merely said be careful.” After a moment, he continued. “It’s time you earn back the chunks of your memories they erased. Are you ready?”
You opened your mouth, letting out a shuddering breath, and closed it again. “I’m scared.”
“Knowledge is power, love. Surely you don’t want to stay oblivious for eternity, do you?” He scooted closer, his cold hand ascending to the nape of your neck, prickling your soft skin.
You sucked in a deep breath.
You suddenly found yourself sinking into a reverent hypnosis, your mind both numb and hyper-focused all at once, your irises widening alongside his.
“You now remember every memory your sister, Stefan, Damon or Caroline have compelled away.” He insisted, his tone leaving no place for defiance.
You blinked both in a placid and leisure manner, and snapped back to reality in a heartbeat.
Another tear fell from your eye as one particular memory returned like the last kid revealing itself at the end of hide and seek.
You inhaled, trying to pry the words out of your mouth, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Damon.” The name came out brokenly, raw against your throat. “He tried to kill me and— and Elena. She compelled me to forget!”
Your shoulders shook. Another memory surfaced.
Then another. Then another.
Every compulsion. Every lie. Every omission.
All of it crashed into you like waves determined to drag you beneath the surface. You curled inward, small and overwhelmingly fragile.
The antique clutched in your hands trembled violently. Before you could realize what was happening, another hand enclosed yours.
Large. Cold. Steady
The shaking stopped.
“Easy.” His voice cut through the storm inside your head as his thumb brushed over your knuckles.
“They lied to me.” The words broke apart as they left your mouth. “Or maybe they wanted to protect me?”
Kol scoffed, a sharp sound, bitter and immediate. “Protection.” The word dripped with contempt. “Such a fascinating excuse people use when they wish to make choices for somebody else.”
Your eyes burned. “They thought they were helping.”
“Perhaps.” His hand slid upward, fingers gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
The gesture felt oddly intimate.
Terrifyingly tender.
“But protection should not come at the expense of your choice.” His gaze softened a sliver, almost making it seem like you deluded it. “You deserved the truth.”
Something inside your chest cracked.
Not painfully, but relievingly, like a wound finally being cleaned.
“Shh, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” With an effortless tug, he pulled you closer until your bodies touched, your knees on each side of his hips, straddling him. You sniffled softly into the crook of his neck, warm, hopeless tears clinging to his skin.
Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt before you even realized what you were doing. One could say it was instinct, or even exhaustion.
Or maybe your world had simply fractured too many times in a single evening and your mind no longer possessed the strength to hold itself together.
Whatever the reason, you didn’t pull away when his arms settled around your waist.
The room remained steeped in silence, disturbed only by the distant groan of old wood settling somewhere within the house and the occasional whispers of wind against the windows.
Your forehead rested against the curve of his shoulder.
Safe wasn’t the right word, not when you knew exactly what he was. Not when the memory of crimson eyes and sharpened fangs still lingered fresh in your mind.
Yet neither was danger.
You felt his hand move, slowly smoothing over your back as though soothing a startled animal that might bolt at any moment.
Across from you, the fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting amber light across ancient furniture and older secrets. Shadows stretched across the walls, climbing over paintings and bookshelves alike until they reached the bed where the two of you sat suspended in an uneasy sort of peace.
When you finally lifted your head, your eyes met his.
Neither of you spoke.
There was something unexpectedly gentle in his expression, hidden beneath centuries of arrogance and cruelty, visible only for a fleeting moment before it vanished again.
His gaze drifted briefly to the tear tracks still staining your cheeks.
Then to your mouth. Then back to your eyes.
The corner of his lips twitched upward, the moment lingering, as fragile as glass.
Just as his eyes flickered down to your lips, unashamed and leaning in to take what is now his, Klaus’ voice filled the air, blaring and resonating from downstairs into the room. “Dear brother Kol, the Little-Rescue-Committee wants the girl back!”
You felt him tense up, an ebullition of angry vengeance boiling like hot water inside him. “It’s okay.” You murmured, reassuring and careful, before he lashed out. You took his hand in yours, standing up with him. “Let’s go.”
When the two of you descended the stairs, Kol led the path, asserting dominance in some way. You didn’t fight it— instead, you felt safe like that, secured behind him as he stared daggers at anybody or anything that came your way.
You saw Damon’s repulsed and bitter mien first, gaze snapping from the youngest Mikaelson to you. Then came Stefan standing right beside his brother, worried and sensible than his usual brooding self, then finally, Elena.
She looked like a mess, the whirlwind mind of hers perceptible in every way possible. Her demeanor appeared concerned with a twinge of guilt, as much as she tried to come off as commanding.
“He’s compelled her.” With the confidence — or arrogance — that is entirely Damon’s, he presumed.
“Like you three?” You, the oldest Gilbert, interfered instantly, your voice wavering but firm with a message. “Yeah, I know about that. I know about everything.”
“Aria— it’s not like that.” Elena tried before Kol stepped closer, his tone steady with a dangerous touch.
“Save it, you wench. I would have been ash if it weren’t for your sister.”
The nickname made you physically recoil; however, reminiscing about the atrocities the others had committed, the profanity quickly became the least of your worries at that moment.
“Well, this is getting rather amusing.” Klaus leaned against the wall, watching with no other emotions other than entertainment. “Go on, reprieve me of my tedious evening! I’m bored.”
Everybody ignored him, Elena’s voice cutting through the thick air. “Aria, you need to get away from Kol. He’s not who you think he is! He tried to amputate Jeremy—“
“Damon killed Jeremy, Elena.” That exact sentence let the room fall into silence, except for the sound of one particular hybrid, laughing under his breath. You continued. “Damon nearly killed me.”
“Aria…”
“I’m staying with Kol.” The admission hung in the air, sharp and as convicted as one could be. Elena’s eyes dropped to her sister’s hand, intertwined with the sociopathic vampire’s. The sight made Elena visibly pale.
Klaus wheezed, louder this time. “Goodness gracious, I’m in awe of this circus!”
“Shut up, Niklaus.” Kol averted his gaze to his brother, then back to the three standing on their porch. “You heard the lady. Now, if you don’t mind, I advise you leave as soon as possible before I change my mind and hunt down all three of you and the rest of your pathetic friends.”
What felt like eons finally passed when the ricocheting conversation ended, the squad having long given up despite Elena’s usual dedicated self and the two sycophants by her side doing everything they’re told to by her.
the party at the compound was packed with dancing bodies, some sweaty, some stumbling due to inebriation, some swaying to the music, eyes full of love as their arms wrap around their significant other.
you, on the other hand, were stood at the drinks table, pouring yourself a glass of champagne while you searched for your lucky candidate. you and klaus had argued before this party, so why not try to make him a little jealous?
your gaze landed on a man across the room, about 6 foot with a bit of stubble and brown hair, a plaid shirt and jeans. you saw the mark on his arm and knew he was from another pack. jackpot. you tugged the top of your shirt down, revealing your cleavage just enough to tease but not enough to look desperate.
you smiled, walking over to him. “hi,” you greeted.
he turned to you. “hey,” he replied. his gaze dropped down to the curve of your breasts. perfect.
“i was just wondering… what’s your name?” you asked. “i couldn’t help but notice you from across the room, and i just had to know.”
his eyes lit up like he had been waiting for the opportunity. “name’s kyle, you?” he replied.
“y/n. so, how do you like the party so far?” you flashed him a taunting smile, and you felt the presence of someone watching you from the other side of the room. you didn’t have to look to know that klaus was shooting daggers at your back.
“it’s amazing, even more so now that you’re talking to me.” his gaze swept over you again, hungrier each time.
“yeah? well, maybe if i like how this conversation goes, we can do a bit more than just talking,” i said, biting my lip, which had klaus snapping. he stormed over in the way that screamed he was pissed, and you knew you had won.
you felt his familiarly rough hand grip your arm as he looked at the man, eyes hot and burning. “excuse me, but she’ll be coming with me now,” he said, that sarcastic, faux-innocent smile on his lips that said he was seconds away from ripping someone’s head off, british accent rolling off his tongue in the way that always had you weak in the knees.
the guy, kyle, went to protest, but klaus was already dragging you away, up the stairs and towards his bedroom. you didn’t protest as he dragged you away until the door was shut. “do you care to explain why you were chatting up the guests?” he asked. yeah, he was definitely pissed.
“just making them feel welcome, is all,” you said innocently, as if you had no idea what you were doing. which, oh, you definitely did.
“welcome? maybe welcome so he can get into your pants,” he spat.
“why do you even care so much?” it was a genuine question that had sometimes kept you up at night. you’d wanted to know why he always seemed so protective, so caring. if it were anyone else, you’d say he had feelings for you, which you still sometimes suspected, but this was klaus you were talking about. he didn’t catch feelings. maybe once or twice, with aurora or cami, but never again. not for you. right? besides, klaus wasn’t one to care much unless it affected him.
he paused, as if the question had shocked him. it even shocked you a bit that you had finally voiced the question that had been on the tip of your tongue for so long. “maybe i just don’t like the thought of anyone else touching what’s mine,” he finally ground out gruffly. his tone made you shiver, and then his eyes were darkening. he stepped a little closer to you.
“klaus…” your voice was both a warning and an invitation, a push and a pull. you didn’t know if he was about to kiss you or rip your head off, or if it was the first option if he should even do it, if you should let him. if it was even a good idea.
you didn’t have much of a chance to mull it over before his hand was on your cheek, tilting your head as his mouth crushed against yours. the kiss wasn’t sweet or delicate, nothing ever was with klaus, seeing as most things he touched would inevitably break. it was a desperate clash of teeth and tongues as he backed you against the door, you leaning into it without much of a thought.
when he pulled back, your chests were both heaving and his lips were glistening and slightly swollen, which you were sure yours weren’t much different. you went to whisper his name again, but he was turning you around with vampiric speed, the backs of your knees being pressed against the foot of his bed. your breath hitched, and then his lips were on yours again, pulling a muffled hum from your throat. his hands dipped under your top, calloused fingertips grazing smooth skin. he almost groaned at the feeling as he pulled you closer.
he pulled your shirt off, and you gladly let him. he threw the black lacy number to the floor, not paying much attention to where it landed across the wooden tiles before laying you down on the bed. your movements were both fast and desperate, the thin wire of tension between you two finally snapping like a taut bowstring.
his lips trailed down your neck, his hand still rested on your jaw to tilt your head back as he continued to devour your neck like a man starved. a small moan slipped past your lips before you could stop it, making him grow even more cockier than he already was on the daily. his actions were hungry and needy, no longer holding back. his hands started to unbutton your pants. your hips twitched just slightly, making him chuckle lowly.
he teased the button for a bit before letting it pop open, the zipper following soon after before he slid them down with your panties. you couldn’t help yourself, you pulled him back up for another messy kiss, which he shockingly complied with easily. he nipped at your lower lip, making you moan and search aimlessly for the fabric of the bottom of his shirt before reaching their destination and lifting it up. he sat up to let you work it off, letting you throw it to the other pile of clothes before leaning back over you.
he made quick work of his own pants and boxers, and before long he was completely stripped bare over you. you didn’t have to plea and he didn’t give you much warning before his hand dropped to where you needed him most, his fingers rubbing over and teasing your entrance. your hips twitched up into his touch again involuntarily. “mm, you like that, darling?” he taunted.
“shut up,” you breathed.
“oh, love, you know i don’t like being told what to do.” he shoved a finger into your core, making you moan and lean your head back further. “now shut up and tell me who owns this pretty cunt of yours,” he rasped against your ear. damn it, that accent was going to be the death of you some day.
“klaus..” you whimpered. you hated sounding so pathetic and submissive, but he brought out that side of you. he was powerful, a hybrid, an original. he could have you at your knees in a millisecond, in more ways than one.
“that’s it, klaus owns your little pussy. now be quiet and watch me fuck you with my fingers, little wolf,” he drawled, and you didn’t argue. wouldn’t in a million years.
“yes,” you breathed, arching into his touch. the little moans and whines that left your throat only enticed him further, making him add a second finger. “fuck..”
“what was that? such naughty words for a pretty little wolf,” he teased with that damning smirk. he knew exactly what he was doing. “shouldn’t have been so defiant earlier. however, you always were a stubborn one.”
you were too blissed out in a state of pleasure to even process half of what he was saying right now, all you knew was that he kept using that nickname that you at first hated but grew to have a thing for. little wolf.
“klaus, call me that again,” you gasped out.
“i told you i don’t like demands, little wolf,” he teased again. the sentence was simple but held so much. he wasn’t saying he didn’t like demands to be demeaning. he was saying it as a reminder that he didn’t typically allow it, but that he was for you, which meant more than anything else. because klaus mikaelson wasn’t one to compromise. he wasn’t one to bend the rules for anyone but himself.
his hands traveled up to unhook your bra, peeling the fabric away and dropping it to the floor. you made another soft noise as the cool air hit the rest of your skin, and he leaned down to lick a strip over one of your nipples. “fuck—“ you jerked into his touch, unable to hide the affect he had on you, not that it wasn’t too late to anyways. he smirked against your skin, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking on it. you moaned, which one made him add a second finger to your soaked cunt.
“don’t stop,” you breathed. with that, his lips pulled away from your tit and his fingers pulled out from between your legs. you whined at the loss of contact, about to make some witty comment like ‘what did i just say?’ but you didn’t have a chance to. instead, he lined himself up with your entrance and slid into you with a filthy squelch. you moaned, head leaning back once again, eyes fluttering closed.
“mmm, you feel so good…” he praised. “you want me to ruin you? to stretch you out until you’re aching, sore and begging for mercy?” he asked. normally, you’d deny it, but with him it sounded like a fantasy come true. you were also too lost in the moment and too overstimulated to argue.
“please… don’t stop,” you repeated, wanting to get your message across, making sure he didn’t pull away for good this time.
he responded by quickening his pace, barely giving you a second between every thrust. you both groaned every time he bottomed out, and your nails went up to bury themselves in his back, leaving marks that quickly healed before you pressed in deeper when his thrusts grew faster.
“yeah, you like that?” he taunted. you didn’t trust your words not to be a slurred string of incoherent syllables.
“klaus, i-i’m—“ you’re cut off by another moan when he bottoms out, arching into him. “fuckin’ hell…”
he knew what you meant, though. you were close. so, he pressed his lips back to yours in another messy kiss and drove himself in deeper. you were writhing into him at this point, clinging to him like your last shred of dignity. “i’m… i’m so—“
“shh, i know, love, i know,” he murmured against your lips. and with one last, deep thrust, your orgasm was washing over you as you cried out, klaus riding out your high at the perfect pace.
once it was over, you dropped your head back against the pillow, a sheer layer of sweat coating your forehead ever so lightly, eyes closed and expression blissed out.
he brushed a layer of damp hair from your face, pressing a light kiss to the corner of your mouth, gentle in a way klaus never was. careful like you were something sacred he didn’t feel he deserved. he gently pulled out, making you whimper slightly, still sensitive from your climax.
“shh, i know,” he whispers against your skin once again before sliding to lay next to you, bringing you to curl into him with your head on his chest. “c’mere, i got you,” he murmured against your ear.
you melted further into him, completely exhausted and sleepy. also still a little dazed. now all you wanted was to be wrapped up in him.
and when your breathing started to slow, he whispered, “goodnight, little wolf,” into your ear like a promise.
