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@therebekahmikaelson
“We are the strongest creatures in the world and yet we are damaged beyond repair. We live without hope but we will never die. We are the definition of cursed. Always and forever.”
Selective & Independent Rebekah Mikaelson
based on the originals / open to crossover / mun 30 / written by kay
icon credit: The Hollowed Artists
235 FAVORITE SHIPS OF ALL TIME (ranked by my followers) 125. matt donovan and rebekah mikaelson - the vampire diaries
“Oh, I’m perfect now!” He announced in a low voice so the kids wouldn’t get curious. Pouncing on the bed, he hovered over the Bride of Dracula and flung the demon horns aside. Gross. “Blood and stake are all yours…” He remarked, though he took a moment to really take in the sight that was his wife, not Drac’s–well, what he could still see since he was on top of her–and sighed in relief. She was in one piece (not really) and damn did she look as perfect as the day he met her (though she’d beg to differ).
“Don’t you go worrying about me now,” He reassured Rebekah, gently brushing some of her hair aside. “I was worried about you and the kids. That’s all I could think about the entire time–keeping all of you safe. Me? I couldn’t be better.” He leaned toward her, planting a kiss on her lips that would hopefully assure her with confidence that he was alright. That, and his white oak stake wasn’t having any performance issues, that was for sure!
“Now, I believe ol Dean Van Helsing Halen’s got a vampire to stake…” He flicked his brow and grinned at Rebekah before reaching down towards her attire. “What a waste that’d be, though, when she’s so damn beautiful. Rather stake myself…but that’d be weird.”
"Missed the mark. You've officially gone off the rails with that one," Rebekah noted, a glimmer of a smile reaching her lips as Dean settled over her. Once in a bloody blue moon, he was a sweet talker. It's what nabbed her attention in that crappy old bar the very first night they met.
Ancient history these days. Rebekah now lived with an expiration date and a few more wrinkles. Even now, she was certain eternal youth always sounded better in books; there was something empty about living so stagnantly. Since the day of the horrible curse centuries ago, her body had stopped moving, with no biological purpose but to kill. She would take stretch marks a thousand times over - the aches and pains of aging too - for this life with Dean and the little ones down the hall.
What an old sap... she reached for the devil horns. "Take heart. My bark may be worse than my bite, but I would've beat that bloody bastard to a pulp. Enough talk about demons." Lips trailed against Dean's jawline. "We've got approximately eight minutes before an intrusion."
Dean mouthed ‘a hero’ to himself, hummed, shrugged, and appeared a little smug despite his back’s insistence for several Advils and a whole liter of rotgut. Not to mention his appearance. He took the kiss in stride, but then went right back to shuffling and moaning down the hall with the kids nearly up his ass. Just another morning, right?
He clung to Rebekah and shut his eyes, leaning his chin on her shoulder after the kisses ceased. He wanted some more, but the old man needed a breather…and they had a nosy audience. Reluctantly letting her go, he got to work with a pep in his step at the prospect of ‘paying mommy a visit.’ That meant he was leaving Mary in charge. The cabin would be torn to ribbons, but that was no big deal considering its current condition. When coffee, breakfast and painkillers were said and done, he restricted the kids to their bedroom, set up a new line of salt for good measure, and told them to keep their slippers on while they played in there so they didn’t get hurt.
Bolting back to the room after cleaning himself off at the bathroom sink, he bounded through the door in just his heart-covered boxers. Classy. “I heard there’s an exhausted damsel in distress around here in need of some rescuing…again.”
In the time that Dean made breakfast, Rebekah changed into a little surprise stuffed at the bottom of her suitcase fit for a moment such as this. Clad in sexy Dracula lingerie, she sprawled across the bed and hoped to the heavens Dean had enough sense to keep the children at bay. Perhaps its humor was a bit on the nose… but all in good fun!
Once he arrived, Rebekah's eyes dipped down to Cupid-worthy boxers. A smirk arose and she shrugged. "I've come to suck your blood," she said simply. "It was between that and is that your white oak stake in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?" She adjusted the little devil horn headband that accompanied her outfit (a fairly stupid addition to a vampire ensemble in the Original's opinion) and smiled. "Sillies aside, you're alright? Seeing you back to work again was a thrill but I must admit I was a bit worried."
Dean wanted to laugh at the memory, absurd as it was, but he could only manage a grim smile as he sank into his other self–the Hunter, who he had been for all his life, and who he would always be deep down inside. From there, it was all business: rooting out the spirit, getting flung around enough that he was gonna need something stronger than Advil, and finding whatever object that was the haunted possession in question (it turned out to be a freaking broom. WHO WAS SO ATTACHED TO A BROOM?!). Salt, burn, presto.
When Dean finally emerged victorious, he was covered in soot, his hair was standing up erratically in various places, and his shirt was partially torn. With his sawed off nestled against his shoulder, he stood at the threshold of the children’s room and smiled at his family. “Who wants breakfast?” Slippers were required, though.
"Dad looks-" Rebekah gently pressed a hand over little Sammy's mouth to disrupt whatever unfiltered comment was sure to come Dean's way. "Like a hero," she finished, making haste to the doorway to give her sooty, sweaty husband a kiss. He was in one piece without anything visibly broken, so that was a good sign. Yes, Dean fancied a slice of pie more than she liked (a detriment to his blood pressure and a benefit to his 'dad bod'), but the Winchester certainly still had hunting in his bones.
Whilst it was always a pain in the rear to deal with remnants of their old lives, Rebekah couldn't quite shake the fact it was also a bit sexy. She had the hots for a hunter when he wasn't hunting her.
The kids were going bonkers at the prospect of breakfast, but Rebekah remained in Dean's arms, holding up the chef in question. She graciously peppered a few more kisses to his lips before glancing up with a twinkle in her eye. "I'd make these brutes pancakes before they go feral if I were you, and then I'd pay mommy a visit. She's incredibly tired and going to take a cat nap." Rebekah pressed an affectionate kiss to her children's heads before sauntering off to the bedroom. She flashed Dean a wicked smile. "It's incredibly exhausting to be a damsel in distress!"
And what of you? Do you still desire a family of your own?
↳ The Originals 4x03 - Haunter of Ruins
“I’m getting too old for this crap…” Dean groaned as he held his back with one hand and took Rebekah’s in the other, getting up slowly. He decided to forego the pistol in favor for his rock salt loaded sawed-off tucked just under the bedframe, always prepared. He put himself between whatever attacked him and Rebekah, taking aim with the shotgun as he looked around. “Kids’ll be fine. I lined their doorways and beds with salt…” He glanced back at his wife, raising his brow as if remembering something important. “Did you go pee or something?! I had ours salted, too! The line’s broken!”
Without waiting for her response as she provoked the spirit to come out and play, Dean passed by the door and handed Rebekah an iron fire poker he had leaning against the corner wall–again, always prepared. “When it makes a show of things, swing away, sweetheart.” Obviously the kids woke up from the commotion and were thankfully silent (Dean taught them well). He passed by their threshold without breaking the line of salt and held a finger to his mouth to keep them quiet before winking at them and stalking off further into the cabin in search of Casper the Unfriendly Potato. “You stay with them, alright?” He ordered Rebekah, bridging no room for an argument. “I got this.”
Uncharacteristic silence was a dead giveaway. Perhaps Rebekah had shuffled sleepily past the threshold for a much-needed midnight potty break (she never could quite sleep all through the night without a go after three kids), and perhaps her slippers had mucked up the salt lines...
She clutched the poker in her palm. Fortunately, humanity had not resolved Rebekah's anger and rage in full. When that dastardly spirit came whoosing through, she'd happily stick the iron rod straight up his-
From the silent trio down the hall, Mary let a fearful 'mommy' slip, so Rebekah returned to earth from her fantasies and gave Dean a nod of agreement. "We'll be here," she confirmed, safely in the confines of her children's, salt-lined bedroom. "Hey," she said low, poking her head from the doorway. "Be careful. Call if you need me? I've got quite a swinging arm. Remember all the times I got my giggles out beating up Esther?" The old junkyard automobile. Not her mother.
It wasn't that she thought Dean rusty, but their experiences squashing supernatural nuisances were, thank the heavens, far and few these days. A part of Rebekah's heart tightened with worry. "Give him hell."
“And burgers are a problem? Remind me again why I married you?” Dean grumbled sleepily, wondering why indeed with every passing moment Rebekah kept opening her mouth, and not in the good way! “And for the record: last year was your friggin fault, alright? You put the tattoo off–like I told you not to–and then you end up possessed. Idaho’s got nothing. Maybe killer potatoes, but that’s about it. We’ll take our chances with the spuds!”
The second thud had Dean ready to ballistically unleash every bullet in the clip of the pistol he kept tucked under his pillow. Precautionary, of course. It was also there primarily if Rebekah pushed him too far. “IT’S THE POTATO!” He bellowed, opening fire on Idaho’s monstrously finest pair of eyes. “GET THE KNIFE; WE’RE PEELING THIS SONUVA…” There he went, flying into the wall.
"Watch your bloody language!" She knew where that mouth of Dean's was headed and with the little ones tucked snuggly in their beds just down the hall… Perhaps best to choose her battles wisely.
Whilst the demon vanished as quick as it came, the bullet holes sprayed across the wall (and the sad, middle-aged man slumped against it) remained tangible proof of its ugly existence. Surely, the spirit wouldn't go far. It seemed intent on taunting Dean.
"Are you alright?" Rebekah offered the Winchester a hand. "Guess there's still a bit of that heightened vampy hearing left... Can't say I didn't warn you." She turned her attention to anywhere else in the room, eyes scouring every corner, awaiting the demon's return. "Hey! You got this far in bothering us, so show yourself, you hideous bastard! Don't you supernatural spirits usually make a show of it?"
s1 + foreshadowing Hope’s name
@therebekahmikaelson continued from here to make the thread a beta post
"Whoever got to decide that kind of bullshit? Way to share with the class" Lance replied and shook his head, because really. Only one cure? Compared to hundreds if not thousand of vamps out there? That really was bullshit.
When she met him with a smile, he returned the favor by giving her he cheeky grin, chuckling to himself, unable to keep a cheesy comment in.
"Oh and I'm certain I know a few ways to rile you up" he replied, grin growing bigger, until he started laughing and waved it right off. "You know what, I take that one back. Too cheesy even for my standard. Please don't kill me. At least not yet. I'll get back to you on that one" Lance went on, eyes now moving back and forth between her and the door.
A part of him still wanted to leave now that he'd gotten what he wanted. Still a habit especially after anything even remotely close to a fight. But of course, she just had to mention hunger and happy juice as a peace offering now, and it only just now hit him how hungry he really was. The hunger flashed right across his face for a second, almost feral and dark, but was once again replaced with a smirk and a challenging look.
"Hm. That does sound kind of nice" Lance mused, stepping a little closer at last, interested. Getting thrillingly close to her now, considering that he was very aware of the fact that her mood could still swing right back into neckbreaking territory. But there was just something about telling her this 'neat' little fact about himself like this. Close to her. Almost intimate.
"Here's for the first bit of no bullshit and giving it to each other straight though" he went on, a throwback to his previous proposal to her.
"If it's human happy juice, then I'm afraid I won't be able to join you. Can't keep it down no matter how hard I try. Hence the little...snack earlier" he explained while pointing at her neck, where he took a sip not too long ago. "So unless you're offering, I'm afraid I'll have to go and get myself some takeout. Now that I think about it, maybe you'd like to join me. Seems like you could use some more ways to blow off some steam. You looked quite murderous just a second ago. Sure could use that."
Rebekah was already halfway to the kitchen by the time Lance made his suggestion. She rolled her eyes as if this change in plans proved to be the world's greatest hassle, and then turned back to face him. "Fine. I'll join you for a bite of takeout. Couldn't let you go out there on your own in good conscience anyway. You'd be naughty and eat half the city. Not a mess I'd like to clean up."
Pulling blonde locks into a ponytail, Rebekah slipped into her jacket and boots and nodded toward the front door. "We might as well teach you how to do this whole thing humanely. Don't have to go about it as a killing machine. In fact, you'll like yourself a bit better if you don't. Take it from someone who spent the tenth century gobbling up every caravan passing through. Couldn't help it, of course. I didn't have any bloody Vampire Yoda teaching me manners. Makes one feel bloody depressed."
She opened the door and gestured for Lance to go first. "For the record, you are an exhausting amount of time and effort no matter the decade I meet you in.
CONTINUED FROM HERE, WITH REBEKAH ( @therebekahmikaelson )
“Yes, well, sorry – how soon am I allowed to worry about your impending doom? You’re my sister.” And she loves her dearly, in her own non-conventional way. Being around them is pain but losing Rebekah to death would be agony.
She blinks. Blinks again. To say she’s shocked speechless would be an understatement, both by Bex’s agreement but mostly at how thrilled it makes her feel. When was the last time they went anywhere together – no brothers looming in the middle, no fathers hot on their heels and full of murderous intentions, just the two of them?
Did they ever?
For a fleeting moment, her smile isn’t a mocking facade – it’s bright and genuine and happy. Leah turns away to close her bag but really to hide her face from Rebekah, to try and maintain some resemblance of nonchalance. “Don’t take too long or I’m leaving you behind. I don’t want Nik catching on.” They can tell the others about their trip when they are already on their way, preferably from another continent. “Bex, please, you can’t stop me from stirring up trouble. But you can join in and have some fun. Live a little. And if you meet someone, I promise not to gag - too much.”
"What makes you think I'm looking for the company of a man? They're idiots, the lot of them and the sooner you come to terms with that, the better. At the moment, the only men striking my fancy are the kind I eat for lunch." Perhaps that was a bit harsh, but Rebekah's heart weighed heavy with thoughts of Marcel. A meaningless dally would be good fun, but it wasn't at the top of her to-do.
"I just spent eight months playing mumsy to a fussy baby, so I mind as well continue my award-winning babysitting streak." The Original gleamed; a signal to her younger sister that she was only half-joking. Leah could hold her own, but there was no harm in the watchful eye of an older, wiser Mikaelson...
"Well, don’t leave without me.” she said. “I'll be back in a jiff. Let me pack my bags. We'll text the boys once we're over the Atlantic."
Thanks to her supernatural senses, Rebekah was back to seeing clearly in a jiff. Her head finally stopped pounding and the churning sensation in her stomach decided to settle. The vision of Mikael kindly left her brain, which meant the Original's regular temperment was back in order. Lance, unfortunately, appeared the opposite. She watched the man's balance waiver and resorted to staying quiet while he cradled his knees and swayed back and forth like a baby. It was pitiful really, the sight of him. Made it much harder to kick the dilapidated human back outside.
"Well, I suppose Plan B can wait, can't it? I wager you need a good night's rest and, considering you're a wanted man, I don't have the heart to fling you to the streets. You know, I've gotten a looksie at every police officer in the city at the moment, given they're always sniffing around when my brother wreaks havoc, and they're mostly big-bellied ones now. They used to be so handsome back in the olden days."
Shrugging, Rebekah rose from the floor and offered Lance a hand. "Come on. That was not our finest hour. What say you to some supper and a good night's rest?"
Continued from here @demcnsinmymind
high school yearbook award meme: the originals + most dateable
rebekah mikaelson
What about Hayley? Nothing I conspire to do, none of my treachery, will harm this family as much as your feelings for her. You’re a hypocrite, Elijah. You would choose love over family and then condemn me for doing the same.
THE VAMPIRE DIARIES 4.04 | THE ORIGINALS 2.01 (requested)
demcnsinmymind:
“I meant it as in chewing Rebecca. Y’know. Because you’re a vampire. Teeth. Biting. Chewing. Though I realize now that was a dumb one” Lance tried to save the capsizing ship, but it was too late. She was starting to visibly become upset and he knew that even if he tried to explain to her how he’d meant it all, the damage had been done already. Worse still, she misunderstood what he was saying about the cure almost completely, didn’t leave him any chance to clarify, just brushed right past him.
And sure enough. There still was a second there where he honestly considered just leaving, like back in the old days. Not bothering to deal with any sort of complications or clarifications because it was easier, because what was the point, because it was a waste of time anyway.
But her earlier words kept bouncing around in his head now.
You are a friend.
He didn’t have many of those these days. Truth be told, he had none. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized that that was fucking horrible. So in the end and as a first, he actually went after her to try and salvage the whole thing. After all, this was what he was trying so goddamn hard to do now, ever since he’d gotten out. To be better than his old self. To do better.
“Wait” he said after turning up in front of her within the blink of an eye, keeping some distance between them because he didn’t fancy getting his neck broken by her, given how mad she obviously still was at him.
“You make it sound like there’s only one cure. I didn’t know that when I said that just now. I thought it’s something where you put some ingredients together or, I don’t know, use spells or whatever and that you can do it more than once. Like a cure to any other disease” he tried to explain, previous cheekiness and smiles and smirks completely gone within the blink of an eye.
“So for the record : I would never take that from you, okay. Given how much you want it and that there’s only one - I’d let you have it if I stumbled across it. Just so we’re clear. I know I’m an asshole. But I’m not that kind of asshole. Not anymore. I don’t want to make things worse for people just on the off chance that it might slightly improve my situation. Let’s face it, that cure’s not gonna change shit for me anyway. And I know that. I can always die without it if I want to too, so there’s that. I’ll manage without it just fine. I always do.”
He looked at her a moment longer to make it clear that he was perfectly serious and genuine with it. He thought about saying other things, too. Vehemently denying the idea that he was a coward after everything he’d done to survive, everything he’d gone through. And other parts that kept lingering around no matter how ridiculous and paradoxical they were, given his beliefs and usual attitude. Maybe living like this forever is what I fucking deserve anyway. I had it coming. I killed someone. Took a life. Indirectly caused more to end, too. So who the fuck am I to want mine back.
But he said none of that.
“I’m sorry I upset you. It’s the opposite of what I wanted.”
And now, that just made him snort somewhat miserably, angrily. Story of his life for the past ten years. “I’ll leave you alone” he said and with that turned around, eager to increase and increase and increase that distance as quickly as possible.
Rebekah considered chucking Lance straight through a window now that he had the ability recover without so much as a scratch. Lucky for him, the new vampire opened his big fat mouth to launch into an apology that kept the Original at bay. Perhaps this had all been a misunderstanding. She couldn't quite fault Lance for not knowing the semantics of the supernatural world, even if she desperately wanted to do just that. A short fuse was the mark of being a Mikaelson.
"There's only one in existence my knowledge, but I pray I'm bloody wrong." The blonde woman unfolded her arms and removed her gaze from the man opposite the room. "Well... Thank you then. For your support. Sorry you can't die sooner." A twinge of a smile tugged at her lips. "I'm certain I can figure a workaround if you rile me up enough."
A vile, playful grin found Rebekah's expression. No trace was left of the vulnerable woman yearning for regular human life. "Now, now, don't be a moody twit. We're over our quarrel. I’m hungry and you must be too. I’ll thaw us some happy juice."
