Relationship(s): Elijah Mikaelson & Finn Mikaelson
Warnings: Trauma, Trauma Recovery
Other Tags: Fluff, Family Feels, Alternate Universe
Part of the Judge, Jury & Executioner Series
Written for @fluffuary Day 9: Cuddles
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A sharp noise broke Finn from his sleep. He sat up and squinted in the dark, listening and watching for what had woken him up.
A creak of the floorboard near his bed and a soft but painfully familiar whimper from below answered his question. He sighed softly. “Elijah? You looking to give me a heart attack? Because that won’t kill me.”
There was a beat of silence. Then, “S-Sorr-ry.”
“It’s okay. I’m guessing you couldn’t sleep? Come on.” He scooted over on the mattress, giving Elijah plenty of space to come up with him.
He still wasn’t entirely sure why Elijah had decided he was the “safe person” in this house. Camille had tried to explain it to him (something about boundaries and familiarity and PTSD) but he didn’t think he would ever understand why Elijah chose him over Klaus or Rebekah or Freya. Even Kol would make more sense.
But Elijah seemed to need him and Finn wasn’t going to deny him what he needed.
Not this time.
Elijah clambered up on the bed from the floor, an uncoordinated mess of limbs that was a far cry from the cool and calm brother he’d come to loathe. He gently grasped Elijah’s arm to help him get settled and frowned when he felt that it was bare.
“Where’s your shirt?”
Elijah went entirely still under his hand and he sighed. “I’m not mad, but I know you were wearing a shirt when you went to bed. What happened?”
There were a few moments of silence. Then, “Un- Uncom- Not-” Elijah let out a frustrated huff. Finn waited patiently for the words to work out. The stutter wasn’t going away anytime soon, according to Cami, but it got especially bad when he was upset about something.
“It-chy,” he forced out eventually, though Finn could tell by his tone it wasn’t the word he wanted to use. He understood what his brother meant well enough.
Elijah had spent the better part of the last one thousand years wearing the finest clothes, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on custom suits, even having his more casual clothing tailored. For centuries, Finn had assumed he’d gotten a taste of luxury and refused to let it go. It wasn’t until just a few weeks ago he’d learned that it was more of a sensory problem, with certain fabrics and textures causing him genuine discomfort. Apparently, years of forced nudity and the aversion to clothes Marcel had implanted in him had made the problem worse; this wouldn’t be the first time a formerly safe fabric had become a problem.
“Okay. You don’t have to wear that one again. We’ll find something else for you in the morning.”
Even in the dark of the room, he could see Elijah relax.
It stoked a fire in Finn’s heart to see his brother (his little brother, the one he failed more than any of them) so scared, always awaiting punishment like a specter.
“Do you wanna tell me what happened or do you just want to go back to sleep?” he whispered. He wasn’t sure which option he would prefer. On the one hand, knowing what had set Elijah off would give him something to pass onto Camille. On the other hand, talking about it would likely just upset him and give Finn more reasons to want to bash Marcel’s skull in until even his superior healing powers couldn’t keep up.
Elijah shook his head, firmly tucking himself into Finn’s chest. He didn’t even try to say any words, but even a small refusal was a step forward. Even after months of constant assurance that he had choices now and no one would be mad at him for making a “bad” one, Elijah had difficulties asserting himself. This was progress.
“Okay. That’s fine. You need your rest anyway.” His hand found its way into Elijah’s hair, stroking gently as his brother slowly but surely relaxed into him.
He watched as Elijah fell sleep. Even after all these months, it was still so strange to see him like this, so vulnerable, so… small.
For almost as long as Finn could remember, Elijah had always been strong and stoic. He’d learned to mask his weaknesses young with a parent like Mikael and it only amplified when they became vampires. It was something Finn appreciated and loathed all at once, happy not to have to deal with Elijah’s problems but annoyed that he never seemed to care about anyone elses’.
It gave him a horrible sense of satisfaction to have an Elijah he could read, could take care of without argument. Just one of the many thoughts he resolved to never speak aloud.
Like the fact that a small, selfish part of him didn’t really want Elijah to get better. Because if he got better, if he got back to his old self…. Finn would lose this. And as much as he hated to see his baby brother suffer, he didn’t want to lose this.
A sick second chance to do things right, to be there in a way he couldn’t – hadn’t before.
Okay man okay but AU where Cas is from a legacy pro surfing family. When Cas’s car breaks down on the way to Pipe, he expects the rust bucket that comes to rescue him. Unfortunately, that rust bucket comes complete with the rudest (and, regrettably, attractive) mechanic Castiel has ever met.
A local who hates pro surfers, Dean’s more than a little pissed at the way Castiel Novak expects folks to do things for him. If it wasn’t for Sammy being obsessed with the guy, he’d have left him on the side of the road.
what if t'pol goes and hangs out with hoshi sometimes after neuropressure sessions with trip in her own quarters bc it sometimes takes a bit for the lingering smell of his cologne/general human scent to dissipate, and hoshi's quarters are pretty much the most inoffensive she's encountered on a human ship
and at first hoshi is trying to figure out if t'pol needs something, like something work-related or maybe she wants to be able to speak her native Vulcan with someone or heck, maybe she wants hoshi's help setting up a covert gambling system on the enterprise who knows
t'pol seems extra drained though so hoshi doesn't push to find out, not that t'pol would seem anything but inscrutably vulcan to anyone who hadn't gotten to know her
most of the time when t'pol comes to hoshi's quarters they just coexist. they each do their own thing, generally reading. once hoshi offered to do the calming hand thing for t'pol that she had taught her on that derelict ship, but t'pol is exhausted on touch and quickly feels that any recharging she had begun to do is being undone. watching hoshi practice the motions on her own hands does seem to help, however
hoshi appreciates that if she needs or wants to go elsewhere, it doesn't seem to be a big deal if she just leaves t'pol to decompress while she carries on. Sometimes, increasingly often, if she returns after t'pol has gone back to her own quarters then hoshi will find some quiet token of appreciation like a beautiful snippet of vulcan calligraphy or even just her bed having been made with inhuman precision
Hi everyone!! Here’s another fic I’ve been working on. Check it out, please like/reblog if you like it!! :) (I’m so nervous eeee!)
Random Online Prompt: "You thought he was dead, but there he is, right in front of you on the street, smiling at you."
You and Elijah are in love for centuries, his family becoming your family over the years. Until something goes horribly wrong.
A/N: I feel like I've seen this same kind of situation/prompt but honestly I love it so here we go. Starts in S1 ep 15 flashbacks, (following the story) then moves to present day (definitely not following the story).
Immortal life was a bit drab without something to live for. For centuries, you had just that. A totally epic love. Someone to be with forever, adventuring, fighting, loving. Elijah had lit up your life like no other, he was the candle that brightened your darkness.
Until Mikael returned.
The Quarter was vibrant and full of life with news of the peace agreement between factions in the face of prohibition. Meetings held in secret at local speakeasies, jazz music, dancing, and drinking. You eyed your love from the dance floor as he talked with his younger brother and the Werewolf Queen, Lana, raising their glasses to newfound peace. Elijah turned to scan the room for you. He found you, dancing to the lively music. He smiled as you raised your hand, finger pointed in his direction, instructing him to come dance. He finished his drink and set it on the bar behind him, smirking as he glided over to you. He grabbed you by your waist, moving in sync with you and the music. Elijah Mikaelson spent his night getting lost in the movement of your hips.
~~~
The next morning, Elijah was gone, a box and note on the pillow next to you rather than his warm body.
"For tonight. xx" The note read. You picked up the box to find a diamond necklace with matching earrings. You smiled giddily as you eyed the shine of the necklace. It would go perfectly for your dress for the opera, "Les Huguenots". Rebekah would be accompanied by Marcel, Niklaus with his new plaything, the Werewolf Queen from the previous night, and you and Elijah. Call it a group date. The Abbatoir was quiet in the mid-afternoon as you spent the day agonizingly passing time until the opera, doing your hair and makeup when the time came.
A knock at your door startled you from your concentration on your hair.
"One moment," You called. You stood, adjusting your dress in the mirror. You turned to see a tall, blonde man you didn't recognize standing in the middle of your room. Surprised, you took a step back. He was holding a decorated, carved wooden stake. He gave the smallest of fake smiles that looked devilishly familiar.
"Forgive me," he said, his accent thick, "But I must use you." He came toward you at an alarming speed. You threw your arms out in an attempt to protect yourself, but blackness and pain was the only thing that came next.
~~~
Consciousness came and went as you hung from the metal fence prop to be used by the opera cast that night. The man - who you had not learned the identity of - had dropped you down on top of the prop, impaling you through the stomach. Through your haze, you saw Marcel, unconscious, his body hanging limply, his hands and feet were tied to a large wooden torture prop. Your gaze moved as your head lulled back, eyes landing on the body of the werewolf queen, Lana, impaled on a large wooden stake. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears fell, unconsciousness taking over again.
The next time you woke was to the sound of laughter and fighting. Your eyelids parted to see the audience of the opera, cackling with laughter at the gruesome sight on the stage. You squinted, confusion taking over. You tried to move as pain ripped through your body. You saw figures fighting over Marcel, Klaus trying to free him as the man - who was he, why was he doing this? - attacked Klaus from behind. Rebekah ran from the right, trying to help Klaus free Marcel.
The man threw Klaus into another prop on the far end of the stage.
"Father," you heard Rebekah gasp. Your head fell back as realization flooded over you. Mikael. He had found the Mikaelson siblings and would kill all of them, here and now. Where had Elijah been all day? Panicked, you tried to move again, desperate to help your loves' family - your family. The pain was unbearable. It was then you heard Elijah's voice.
"There's no helping Marcel," He grabbed his brother, gazing at Marcel with Mikael's hand in his chest. A bright colour caught his eye, a deep and familiar red. Y/C/H hair on the other end of the dress, in just a position that he couldn't confirm whether or not it was you, his love. The glint of diamonds caught the light as you fell limp again, the pain finally getting the better of you. A pit fell in Elijah's stomach. "We must run," were the last words you ever heard Elijah say, as he and his siblings ran from the opera house. If there was a god, you prayed that Elijah got out safely. Flames erupted from somewhere in the opera house, and you swore this was your end.
~~~
Present day
That night lingers in your dreams every so often, even now, a century later. You had come to the conclusion that Mikael had gotten to them that night. Why else wouldn't Elijah swoop in and save you?
Marcel had come to just before the flames took over, seeing you struggling to get free. He saved you that night. Not Elijah. Together, you and Marcel built an empire in New Orleans, years spent building what had burned. Allyships, enemies, pacts, and treaties. It was, in all ways, strictly platonic. You had formed a friendship with the man, some nights even spent drunkenly crying to him about what you both had lost that night. You were each other's family now.
You left New Orleans in the late 1990's, feeling as though you had accomplished everything there was to do. Marcel stayed to rule what you had built together, but he always stressed to you that you had a home there, no matter what.
Travelling wasn't what you remembered it being. When you were with Elijah, it was always filled with adventure and awe. Now, it was lonely, and you found yourself searching for something, or more specifically, someone.
Years ago in Rome, you saw a dark-haired man in a tailored suit and your heart skipped a beat. You grabbed onto his arm and spun him around. But, of course, it wasn't him. You apologized to the man, as he scoffed and turned back around. The rest of your time in Rome was wasted in back alley's, taking your anger out on unsuspecting tourists. Your humanity was killing you. Done with the hurt and the pain, you finally flipped your switch. Ripper Y/N was a force to be reckoned with.
You found yourself in New York, playfully stalking a poor soul in the dead of night when your phone rang. Growling, you took it out of your pocket, the phone lighting up your face in the darkness reading "Marcel".
"What?" You put the phone to your ear as you watched your prey run to safety.
"You need to come home," he said in a hushed tone, "there's someone important here that you need to see."
You scoffed. "No one in my life is important anymore." These comments had become more and more frequent since you flipped your switch, but it stung Marcel nonetheless.
"I'm serious, Y/N/N. Come home. You wouldn't believe who it is if I told you." You heard him move away from the phone a bit, probably watching his surroundings. You rolled your eyes but decided to humour him.
"I'll be there tomorrow. This better be good." You hung up the phone, not waiting for his response. The veins around your eyes turned ashen and your eyes black as you hunted down another meal.
~~~
Walking down the French Quarter streets almost brought back fond memories for you. Almost. You made your way toward the compound to find Marcel, giving little notice to the walking food supplies around you. Mardi Gras was around the corner, and you would stick around town to have your fun then. Nothing better than booze, parties, and blood.
"Y/N!" Marcel greeted as you rounded the corner, arms outstretched.
"Marcel," You greeted, "What brings me here?" You asked in a bored tone.
He dropped his arms in a defeated manner. "Good to see you too," You rolled your eyes and raised an eyebrow. "Fine. I'll show you. Let's go." He pulled out his phone and sent a text. You eyed him but followed as he walked out onto the street. You recognized where he was heading. The ol' reliable of bars, Rousseau's. A smile crept onto your face, glad to be getting a drink in your system soon. He turned to look at you and reciprocated the smile. "Just wait," He said, leading you into the bar.
The bar was generally full, about as busy as you remembered it being every time you were there. You breathed in the familiar scent of the bar, catching a second familiar scent. You froze before you could exhale, eyes looking wildly around the bar. They landed on the beautiful blonde woman sitting there, watching you with a small smile on her face. Rebekah. Your eyes followed to her right, another blonde with a shit-eating smirk on his face. Klaus.
Something inside you changed, and you involuntarily flipped your switch back. The wind was knocked out of your lungs as you stared at the two Original siblings who were supposed to be dead. A tear fell down your cheek. Marcel pulled you by your arm toward them, gesturing the pretty blonde behind the bar for a shot or two.
Klaus raised his eyebrow, but his eyes shined. Rebekah was emotional as well.
"I thought you were- I swore, you and him and El-" you choked on the words as Rebekah pulled you into a hug, that you weakly responded to.
"I know, love. Us too. We couldn't bring ourselves to come back because we thought we'd lost you both." Klaus said from behind Rebekah. Rebekah released you and looked into your eyes.
"It's so good to see you, Y/N." She smiled, brighter. You forgot how much your heart ached for your adopted sister over the years.
"I just, I need a second," You gave a weak smile and walked out of the bar, pressing yourself against the brick wall outside. Covering your face with your hands, you slid down the rough bricks, gasping for air. You had to know if he was here, too. If he was alive, too. You pulled your head out of your hands, looking up and around the sidewalk as people walked by.
You could feel it, that he was there, somewhere. You don't love someone for centuries and not know what their presence is like. You looked into the street and saw a figure facing you, hand in his suit pants pocket, looking at you from a distance. He hadn't changed at all, except the suit was surely more expensive than any others he had owned in the previous years. He smiled a small, sad smile. You stood on shaky legs, not daring to take a step for fear of falling. You thought he was dead, but there he is, right in front of you on the street, smiling at you.
"Elijah?" Tears spilled from your eyes as he sped to you in an instant, inches from you now. He was ready to catch you at a moment's notice. His scent filled your lungs as he looked down at you, taking you in. Your hand reached up to hover over his cheek, not daring to touch him.
"Y/N, I-" Before he could speak more, you silenced him with the flat of your hand, slapping him across the face. Surprise filled his eyes, unsure of what to do. You touched him for the first time in a century, and it felt good. You picked up a choked laugh from inside the bar, as you realized how close you were to the windows of Rousseau's. Marcel had choked on his drink, laughing as he watched.
"How dare you." You whispered. As if he knew this might happen, his eyes became more understanding, more guilty. "Years, Elijah. I thought you were dead, for years. Because you never came back for me." He looked at the ground between you, taking a step back. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, debating on his words.
"I did, Y/N. I did come back for you," He ducked his head but raised his eyes to meet yours. "A few decades after what happened at the opera house. I had to know if you were alive. I didn't see Marcel, but I saw you, being a leader and thriving, and I couldn't bring myself to put you in that same danger. You had healed and you were so strong. Mikael was still out there, and I knew he would use you against me, again. I couldn't have that." He talked of Mikael in the past tense, leading you to believe that he wasn't a problem anymore. You shook your head, your eyes never leaving his.
"That doesn't make it any better," You said quietly, "I was mourning you and your family, my family. I was rebuilding what you had all worked so hard to create in the first place. Marcel and I rebuilt. This isn't something you can just come in and take from us. He helped me over these years. He's the one that saved me. I would've died if it wasn't for him. Not you." Those last words stung both of you. What little was left of your heart was cracking and breaking. A tear slid down Elijah's cheek and you reflexively moved to wipe it away. Elijah's eyes looked hopeful as your hand gently moved toward him, but you stopped yourself and hovered your hand over his cheek once again. You blinked your eyes as if shaking yourself from a trance and lowered your hand slowly.
"Y/N, please, let me spend forever showing you that I deeply regret not making myself known to you. Please." He took your hand this time and kissed it, his eyes searching yours for your response. The picture of you limply hanging from the metal fence flashed in his eyes and guilt clouded him. You let him take your hand, desperately wanting him to keep kissing you.
"I need a drink," You slouched and pulled your hand away, deciding to stand your ground in your anger. You turned and walked back into Rousseau's where Rebekah and Marcel had started a tender conversation while Klaus was flirting with the blonde bartender. You plopped down next to Klaus and he looked at you, remorseful.
"A drink here for my friend please, sweetheart." He winked at the bartender - her name tag read Camille - and she nodded, obliging his request. Elijah followed into the bar, sitting closer to Rebekah and Marcel to give you the space you needed.
"You should know, that it wasn't just his choice to stay away. We had to run, Mika-"
You cut him off with a wave of your hand, "He told me. Mikael, danger, blah blah blah," you felt anger rising again, "but you all just left us here to die. I don't even know if you saw me in the opera house, thanks to daddy dearest, I had a slight stomach problem." Klaus's eyes narrowed as you spoke, remembering that night. You saw that you had pushed some buttons. This encouraged you even more.
"I get it though, Marcel is like a son to you, so he takes precedence, but it would've been nice to know you held me in the same regard that I held you. Family. What's that phrase? Ah, 'always and forever'? You must have forgotten that you welcomed me int-" before you could finish, Klaus had his hand wrapped around your throat. You smiled a twisted smile and chuckled as his eyes darkened.
Elijah was behind him in a second, pulling him away. A few people's gazes were drawn to the scene, but there was otherwise no public response. Camille came over, alarmed. "Is everything okay?" She asked, concerned for you. You turned and smiled sweetly at her. You looked deep into her eyes, compelling her.
"Everything is fine here. I'll be taking that drink now, to go." She nodded slowly and handed you the glass of bourbon she had poured. Klaus' eyes hadn't left you, but they softened and he waved Elijah off. He returned to his seat next to Rebekah and the entire group looked toward you as you gestured your head to the exit, beckoning them to follow.
~~~
"A bit vindictive, are we?" Klaus challenged upon arriving at the compound.
You softened at his words. This isn't who you are. A century of anger and grief had built up in your chest, but this wasn't how you wanted to reunite with the people you loved most. You turned to Klaus.
"I'm sorry." You said softly, to no one in particular, but simultaneously to everyone in the group.
Rebekah shook her head and moved to stand by you. "No, Y/N, we should have returned sooner," She glanced back to look at Marcel, regret thick in her voice. "We should have come back for both of you. We shouldn't have left without you in the first place." She took her hand in yours. Her words brought tears to your eyes, again. Klaus nodded in agreement. "It took years before any of us could even speak your names aloud. We thought you both dead."
You and Marcel exchanged looks. He moved to stand with Rebekah, his arm wrapping around her waist. She smiled at him, but he hadn't moved his eyes from you. "All Y/N and I have wanted is to know what happened to you guys. Personally, I'm just glad you're all okay." He stated.
You sighed and finally met Elijah's eyes. He hadn't stopped looking at you since the bar. He would never stop looking at you, not until he erased the image in his head of you in the opera house. His eyes were dark and anxious, desperate to know what was going through your head. Another tear ran down your cheek, you just couldn't believe that he was here. That he was okay. In a flash you were to him, arms wrapping around his neck. Not missing a beat, his hands found their way to your waist, where they belonged. It felt like home. You hadn't felt this safe in a very, very long time. He breathed a sigh of relief, pulling you in and squeezing you, taking in the scent of your hair.
"You promised me forever," You whispered to him.
He nodded into your neck, "Forever I shall give you," he whispered back.
You pulled away from the hug and kissed him, aching for him in every way. He kissed you back with the same urgency, matching your hunger. Getting lost in Elijah was just what you needed.
A cough came from behind you, interrupting your reunion. You blushed and pulled away, turning away from him. Klaus had both eyebrows raised, "I know we're all happy to be reunited but please save the intercourse for somewhere more private." He chuckled and walked toward the stairs, making his exit.
"If I have to wait-" Marcel wrapped his arms around Rebekah's waist, pulling her in hungrily. "- so do you." Rebekah giggled and turned to kiss him. You smiled warmly at them, knowing Marcel felt the same relief you did.
You turned back to Elijah, surprised to see him already looking down at you. He cocked his head to the side, his mouth curling up in a smile. He tugged at your waist, pulling you into him again, kissing you with a century's worth of passion.
I wonder how apollo and silvia would have worked out if they hadnt died young and had gotten a chance to like, live together long term.
What kind if house would they have lived in? Maybe a comfortable manor that backs into the woods? Would sirius live there too (would sirius be in a poly with them...)?
How would they decide on things? Would apollo care about the minutiae of keeping a house? would he leave all the decor to silvia who has more experience with, yknow, actually living in a house? Or would he finally feel settled in a place and become overly involved in the upkeep and making sure things last and stay useful?
Would he teach silvia to hunt in the woods, just in case he dies before her and she needs food? Would she have her own room for valuables/breakables, the busted angel statuette standing center stage of it all?
WOULD THEY LEARN HOW TO BAKE BREAD TOGETHER IN THEIR SHINY KITCHEN THEY BARELY KNOW HOW TO USE?! SPILLING FLOUR EVERYWHERE AND FIGHTING OVER THE DOUGH AND NOT BEING SURE IF THEYRE DOING IT RIGHT UNTIL ITS FINALLY BAKED AND THE SMELL LINGERS IN THE AIR AROUND THE HOUSE UNTIL EVEN SILVIA CANT HELP SNIFFING?!!
wandavision/the originals | agatha, klaus, mephisto, elijah, vincent | 1.9k, mature.
Agatha plans to gain power from the King of New Orleans. She intends for it to go swimmingly.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Originals (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Davina Claire/Kol Mikaelson, Kol Mikaelson/Original Male Character (referenced)
Characters: Kol Mikaelson, Davina Claire, Elijah Mikaelson, Klaus Mikaelson
Additional Tags: Angst, Post-Episode: s05e13 When The Saints Go Marching In, Major Spoilers, Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Davina is a Good Wife, Past Abuse, Bisexual Kol Mikaelson, Not A Fix-It, Sadness, italics mean flashback, Promises, Immortality
Summary:
Kol returns home to Davina after the worst day of his immortal life.
