#kc fic

Because she was a teenager. She was a 17 year old girl with an emotionally distant mother, an absent father who left for his husband, her two best friends rarely took her seriously, she was abused and compelled by Damon (which her friends knew about yet did nothing until later) and Matt, who was supposed to be her boyfriend, was still in love with Elena and couldn’t devote himself fully.

She was 17 and had no one to turn to, she had no true friends or an actual parental figure. She was a pawn in their games for ages, in season 2 she was being manipulated and abused by Katherine as a baby vampire. Once again, her 2 supposed best friends were aware of this.

She was seen as a blonde distraction for Klaus, yet he was the only one who saw past the mean girl cheerleader bully everyone made her out to me and saw the girl beneath the facade - the girl who simply longed to be loved.

But also, she was the perfect representation of a teenage girl. She was blunt, but most teenagers tend to be. She gossiped, she cheered but she had deeply rooted insecurities like most girls do. She was a realistic teenage girl in the midst of supernatural drama and people over look it frequently.

Surprise update! ✨ This 👉😌👈 girl is on fire! 🔥 -- S04E09 Queen Death

“Here, try this one,” Klaus says, offering a strawberry shortcake to his daughter, perched comfortably on his lap.

Eve’s eyes sparkle as she grabs it with both hands and takes a huge bite, cheeks bulging as she chews. A muffled squeal of delight escapes her, her little feet kicking under the table. “This is so good!”

Klaus beams, pride written all over his face as he watches her.

Caroline should be exasperated. This is easily the most over-the-top display of indulgence Klaus has staged in a long while - not to mention an inhuman amount of sugar to expose a seven-year-old to. And yet…

Her heart swells instead, lips curving into a helpless, tender smile. Affection floods her chest, so full it feels as though it might burst. She spent five long years imagining moments exactly like this. They were what dragged her out of bed each morning, what kept her moving forward when everything else was dark and hope was nothing but a distant mirage. This - them - is what she fought for. What she nearly died for. So her daughter could know her father. So that Klaus could spoil her rotten.

Seeing them together like this makes all the sweat, all the blood, and all the many, many tears worth it.

“Those beignets are from your mother’s favorite café,” Klaus tells Eve, sliding a tray piled high with powdered-sugar clouds closer as though he's unveiling crown jewels. “She’s had a craving for them since you were still inside her belly.”

Caroline’s lips twitch, amusement bubbling up through the warmth in her chest.

Of course he'd tell it like that.

Her pregnancy hadn’t exactly been a pic-nic. Character-building is putting it mildly. She and Klaus spent most of it sparring, trading barbed retorts like they were speaking entirely different languages. The arguments were constant, her stress levels dangerously high for someone supposed to be glowing. But every single time, after the blow-ups, whenever Klaus was particularly infuriating, she’d wake up to a perfectly fresh batch of beignets waiting for her.

Apologies, Klaus Mikaelson-style: no words, just a mountain of fried dough.

-- Anyway, you can read the new chapter here on AO3.

Anon I don't know what you're on, but I want some, brilliant idea! If you like this quick little bit consider tipping me on Kofi!

Love Bewinged

You first saw V covered in blood. He'd been tracking down the man who kept you in a cage for months, you later learned. And you watched him kick the man who kept you in a cage down the stairs that led to your basement. You and the other animals watched as V slammed a knife into your captor's chest. Once. Twice. Three times. Then slit his throat. To make sure.

He was so cold while he did it. Calculated. Not like the man who kept you in a cage who was always angry. V killed like it was a job. The man killed -had killed- like he enjoyed being strong enough to do it. He'd killed some of the other animals in cages when they snapped at him. So you'd been quiet. Hiding in the back of your cage unless he shouted at you to be entertaining.

You were hiding in the back of you cage when V unlocked the doors. Some of the animals were human enough. They sprinted up the stairs. Some of them were hungry enough. They went for the corpse. Some were curious and scared. Like you. They stayed in their cages. They waited for the other shoe to drop. You hid in the shadows too.

"I don't understand why he kept people down here," V's voice pitched low, gravelly in a way that felt like something your soul knew was home.

Like cliffs that could cause a landslide with a little bit of rain. Like boulders thrown off cliff edges to sink passing ships.

"Keeping animals is bad enough without the resources to keep them happy. But people in cages... It's despicable."

It took you a little while to realize that he was talking to you. That he was reaching his hand into the cage for you. In offering of friendship maybe? Or to drag you out of the corner and hurt you?

You pressed yourself farther into the cage, harder against the cage bars.

"I won't hurt you," he cooed like he was calling to a frightened bird.

Like he knew what you were.

"Come, let's get you out of here and into the sunshine."

He held out his coat, mistaking your hesitancy for modesty, and averted his eyes. You took a hesitant crouching step forward. He didn't move. Didn't look toward you. You took another step. You launched yourself into the coat. Into the warmth and cover and smell of something other than metal and blood. He wrapped it around you, careful not to touch you as he looked into your wide eyes.

"Does that feel better?" He tilted his head slightly, a gentle smile that set your heart fluttering with your wings wrapped tightly in the blanket that was his coat.

"Yes," you agreed. "Yes."

"Let's get you somewhere safe. You can stay with me."

You didn't think about how hard it would be to stay hidden. You just thought of the man that sounded like rocks falling from cliffs into the ocean and the warmth of his coat. You followed

Loud in the Silence.

V x mute!g.n.reader, comfort, fluff

Words: 3354

Cws: spoilers for Killer Chat!

"Mx Y/n, please try to say 'hi'." Your therapist told you, she's been telling you the same thing for years now.

Years of speaking exercises, therapy and many other exhausting things. Even with so many procedures, you were still unable to talk and your doctors were slowly losing all hope for your case. Every doctor you visited kept on reassuring you that you can overcome your muteness, but no matter how much effort you've put into the exercises, it all ended in vain.

This time was no different, you were leaving the doctor's office, resignation in the man's eyes, exhaustion on his face. You were a lost cause, you accepted it a long time ago. Not speaking wasn't so terrible... alright it was. It was a lot. You hated it, hated being treated like a lost child, like someone weak who needs others to do things for them, the special treatment. Being treated like some kind of alien because of your muteness was the worst.

I'm used to this. You kept on telling yourself, bottling your feelings inside, shutting away from the world and people who hurt you.

You've reached home, put your bag on its place, kicked off your shoes and made your way to your study-bedroom to work some more on your serial killer book. You wanted to be a new promising criminal novelist, that was your dream since forever.

Writing was the only form of escapism for you, the only thing you didn't feel judged for not talking. People only cared about the words you wrote, not the ones you said. It brought you comfort, something to keep you away from these overwhelming thoughts that made your mind so unbearably heavy.

This doesn't feel right".

You grunted in frustration, erasing a whole freshly filled page. This character, they felt so unrealistic, the murder was poorly executed, nothing made sense. You will never be a great author if you will continue on like this. It was fine time you touched some... less than legal resources.

After days of leaving interesting question on the dark web and feared your IP getting leaked anytime you received a reply to your posts.

You opened the site, wrote up a new post and clicked "send" then you noticed a new private message, you opened the chat, the person was marked as unknown. Of course they were. They sent you a link and a key, you were curious so you opened the link and filled in the password.

A chatting site showed up on your screen, you were in the main channel that slowly got flooded with welcoming messages. It was weird. A server with eight members, made specifically on the dark web of all places. It definitely screamed trouble from distance, but you already joined and there was an active threat that whoever owns the server has your IP, so why not stay?

<Y/n>: Hello, thanks for the warm welcome.

You sent your first message.

<goreboy>: your welcome darlin' <goreboy>: check out the rules, there's not much but y'know

You took a note of the person by the name "goreboy" words and entered the channel.

<goreboy>: be a serial killer, First rule of fight club <goreboy>: oh yeah and don't be transphobic, racist and just weird or angel will Snipe ya

<Angelic> And that's a promise, not a threat.

Serial killer? That has to be a joke or some stupid roleplay.

You thought, it was the most logical conclusion you could come up with. These people couldn't be serial killers, why would serial killers make a whole server anyway? It's probably some silly roleplay made by bored people who were too deep into their roleplay and decided to use the dark web as their domain. Yes, that sounds logical.

But what if these are real serial killers?

Doubts began to cloud your mind, there was no reason for them to lie about this either. You had to find out the truth some way. Asking them about it would be suspicious. A supposed serial killer asking other serials if they truly are who they say they are? Yeah that's your one way ticked to a grave.

You scanned the server members and an idea came to your mind.

Why not ask a specific person about their identity?

That idea should work, there was no way it would flop, or so you hoped.

<Y/n>: @/K9, are you the serial killer who kills other bad people?

You sent the message. Why did you choose that person? You didn't know, this member seemed to be the most interesting out of all the others.

<K9>: I refuse to be associated with these wild beast. I am a vigilante.

<goreboy>: don't Listen to v, he's As killer as The rest of us are.

Oh, I am seriously in a den of serial killers... how exciting.

Logic told you to leave, call the police and let them handle this, but something stopped you. You could use this as an opportunity to shape your story, get to know how the other serials operate, get inside their heads in a way. What better way to learn than by making them believe that you are one of them?

Two weeks had passed, you've been enjoying your time playing pretend with the killers and hoping that they won't learn about your serial killer persona being just an act.

You entered the #killer_shit channel to see some discourse started by Misaki about blood art, a curious choice for a topic, but these people also talked about gutting someone open or what torture methods are the most painful.

<goreboy>: hey Y/n, you've Been here for weeks by Now and we still don't know shit about ya <goreboy> isn't it a li'l weird?

Shit.

Of course, it couldn't be too easy. You should have expected them to catch up on the way you were more of a lurker and that you rarely participated in murder talk.

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>: Yeah dude you're totally rightttt

<Y/n>: Isn't being a mystery a good thing? ^^"

You didn't really know what to do so you had to improvise. A serial killer could want to not reveal a lot about themselves, right?

<goreboy>: i mean, if ya Want someone To open you up and see your li'l secrets then im After the job, darlin'

Okay maybe being an enigma wasn't such a great idea as you originally thought.

<goreboy>: c'mon, let's have A voice call Reveal

<hitmeuppp>: OMG yesss we should do that!!!

<LUCA_IS_SO_COOL>: I second this!!!1

<Felicite>: I third this...!

Oh you are in so much trouble.

You obviously can't join the call, unless you magically overcome your muteness in five seconds or less and telling them that you have to stay on mute would make you sound like some cop trying to get information about them.

Your hands were sweating as they hoovered over the keyboard, barely tapping on the letters you wrote.

<Y/n>: I'm very sorry, I can't call now.

You left the chat after you sent this, too stressed to see their replies, you didn't want to see their disappointment or anger.

While you were worrying about the consequences of your words, a pop up shown on your screen; K9 wants to DM you.

You blinked a few times. What does he want?

V didn't strike you as someone who would message you out of the blue, he didn't show up on the server much after you joined, unless Ronin made a new announcement or the topic was "immoral" enough.

You agreed to the request and then received a message.

<K9>: Is there a reason for your inability to call right now?

Oh wow, he's forward.

You bit your lower lip. What should you do now? Lie? Tell the truth? You didn't want to hide the truth about being mute, but seeing it in your texts with someone felt humiliating.

Then, another idea popped into your mind. It was risky, could fail or give you more trouble, but it could also make one serial killer (or a vigilante in this case) side with you.

You prepared the item for your plan and called V, not asking him if is able to have a short call now.

To your surprise he picked up and he looked better than you could ever imagine a serial killer to look like. Beautiful eyes that looked at your coldly and judgemental, dark braids put up in a ponytail and falling down his shoulders. He looked majestic, you can't remember ever seeing as handsome.

Stop, stop, stop. This is not the time for this.

You scolded yourself in your mind, you can dote over the way he looks some other time, you had a plan to go through with.

Before you could say anything you moved the notebook that you were nervously holding in your hands to the camera, somehow the text on it wasn't inverted.

You watched him mouth the message you wrote; I am mute, I can't speak. His face froze in shock, shock turning into understanding.

Not pity, not sadness, not disgust like some other people you knew. Just pure understanding, acceptance. It almost made you tear up. For the first time someone didn't judge you for your disability, didn't flood you with uncomfortable questions or declared that they'll teach you how to speak.

"I see. it would be truly uncomfortable to join a call in this situation." He said.

Oh gosh, even his voice is just amazing.

You nodded your head and wrote another message, showing him the notebook again; Yes, I don't think that I'm ready to share it with the whole server, yet.

"Ah, of course, that's completely understable. You are in no way obligated to tell anyone about your situation." Hs words were rational, they were what you already knew, but for some reason they felt comforting. It felt validating to know that there was someone who agreed with you, who didn't expect you to spill everything out.

I'm glad you understand me.

You could swear that there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Well, now that we're here, do you feel comfortable answering my questions?"

Here we go again with the interrogation, why can't they just leave me alone?

At least this time you have a way out of this; Can we do it some other time? Admitting my disability was already a lot. It wasn't a complete lie, you did feel overwhelmed by coming clean about your muteness like this.

"Ah, yes of course, rest well, Y/n." V said before he hung up.

You were left alone with your thoughts again and the open draft for your story that you still needed to build a protagonist for. You will think about it some other time... You are in a dire need of rest now.

Some time later and you were on another call with V, this time he knew your made up serial killer alias, you learned his Modus Operandi and he decided to play a game of 20-but-I-will-make-it-3-since-you-so-kindly-asked questions on a call with you.

"Were you born mute?" His first question was bold, but you were expecting questions like this, even though other people usually make them sound much more gentle.

Yes, I can't remember ever saying a word in my life, nor does my mother or the doctors we visited. You replied, using your notebook again. V was very much alright with this method of communication, or he just never expressed having anything against your conversations looking like this.

"Mhm. I see." His response was simple, not prying on any more details than what you were ready and comfortable with revealing. You could respect him for this, it even made you feel very happy for some reason. "Do you not know sign language?" This question was... unexpected. No one was ever interested in that part, well mostly because they didn't know how to sign themselves.

Writing this reply took you longer than you thought, because you never had to think about an answer for so long before. I never felt the need to learn, more people knows how to read then how to sign and it's simpler. You didn't add the part about not having enough people in your life to learn how to sign for, he didn't need to know that part.

This response surprised him, he probably never met someone so laid back in a way when it comes to things like that. "Oh, I understand. Well, I know how American, British, German and a few other versions of sign language, if you'd ever feel the need I could teach you."

His offer caught you off of guard, V telling you that he could teach you how to sign? You thought that this could be a dream with how surreal it seamed. He was especially kind to you for the time you knew him, sure, but to the extend that he'd spend his time on being a teacher for a mute (supposed) serial killer? The more time you spend with him the more surprising V turned to be.

"Are you not okay with this?" You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't realise that you still haven't replied to him.

Oh, no, no! I'm really thankful for the offer, I could consider taking you up on this if I ever felt like it. You replied and gave him a big beaming smile. Somehow the thought of V trying to teach you how to sign was exciting to you, it made the butterflies in your stomach flutter.

Oh, I'm so lost in this game.

The realisation was hard, sure, even confusing. Falling for a vigilante was never in your plans when you took this journey, but was it a bad thing? Well, yes! You could end up dead if he found you out, thought whenever you tried to bring you not being a writer up to him ended with him scoffing and saying that he knows how Ronin operates and that he'd never invite a non serial to the server.

Maybe it won't be as bad as you think it could be? V is tender, caring, he is easily flustered, his smile is sweet and he's a protector who deeply loves his animals, even if he never admits to the last part. Heck! He even found a bird and name it after you, is that not a perfect romance potential then what is?

I'm seriously insane for considering a killer my potential partner... Well! Taste is subjective!

January came faster than you thought, and so did a sudden love confession from V. His words made your heart melt, you reciprocated his feelings. You would be a fool if you didn't.

You really did take him up on that sign language offer, learning the most basic and easy signs that you could need the most.

"It would be easier if I could do this with you in the room with me." V sighed when your try to sign 'where' ended up with it being very floppy and apparently making an insult in another language.

These words birthed yet another genius idea in your creative mind. Then why don't you pay me a visit? All that trying to hunt me down and I'm to believe that you have nothing on me? A bold move on your side, but you either go big or don't go at all.

V looked at you, squinting his eyes like he was thinking about something really important. "You are right my love, why don't I teach you how to sign face to face?" He gave you a soft smile. "Did I ever tell you how smart you are?"

Yes, but you're free to praise me more, love. You stuck out your tongue at him when you gave him the response and his face flushed.

"There's not enough words, or signs, that could describe your genius or beauty, my love." And now you were the one blushing and losing your words.

Damn him, and his stupidly sweet praise.

Valentine's day. What a better time to meet with your serial killer boyfriend than that? Well, you probably could think of a few dates at the top of your mind, but Valentines worked as perfect as those other days too.

You were dressed up nicely, you would be meeting V for the first time you had to look at least presentable. You were fidgeting with your pen. This was seriously stressing you out in a way that you couldn't explain.

There were the butterflies, the excitement and love, but there was also worry, at he'd find out and harm you. You trusted V, but would he trust you if he knew? It was the uncertainty that scared you so much, you couldn't expect anything from a man who fed his animals with the people he killed.

The sound of the doorbell rang in your ear. There's no time for doubts, no chance to back away now. You took a deep breath, looked at yourself for the last time in a mirror and made your way to the front door.

You opened them and felt your knees weaken when your eyes met him. As elegant as ever, with the softest of soft smile on his lips, gentleness and affection in his eyes.

You melted under his gaze. Your happiness getting the best of you because you almost pulled him into a hug.

"Hello, my love." He took your hand in his and placed a gentle kiss on the back of your hand. "You look absolutely wonderful today." He said.

With pink cheeks and new warmth in your body, you let him in, showing him the way to your living room.

The two of you sat down on the sofa, you were ready to give him a note proposing tea or coffee, but he was faster. He outsretched a hand towards you, he was holding a notebook in that hand.

With a raised eyebrow you took the notebook and opened it. You almost dropped it when you read what was written inside.

My love. No words can describe my feelings towards you, you made my life better with your presence alone, made me realise and find out so many new things about myself. I never felt this way towards anyone, I can't tell if this is how most people feel, but that is how I feel while bein in love with you.

You expressed your worry about being mute many times before, and I can't help but wonder what cruel people would ever dare to act this way and say such absurd words towards you. Mute or not, you are perfect and I am really glad that I am able to spend time in your company and have your love and be the person who you feel safe with and shared the secret with.

I love you, Valentin Viljoen.

You could feel the tears run down your cheeks. No one has ever done this for you, put so much effort into something for you. You tried to wipe away the tears, but with how many were there it was almost impossible.

You looked at V, your vision was blurry from the tears but your could see the gentle smile on his face and he cupped your face with his hands and caressed your cheeks.

"You are a good person, my love. Your heart says more than any words, you are louder than any person who can speak that I know. Communication is more than just words, it's your expressions, your actions. Don't think that your muteness makes you worse or any less of a person."

You wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly and letting those happy tears out.

Never in your life have you expected yourself to cry in someone's arms, know that they love you unconditionally even if they know that there are things you're hiding.

You let go off the hug and with shaky hands and the most crooked and probably stupid looking smile signed.

< I love you. >

Not even silence can conquer the feeling between the two of you.

Gahhhh it feel so good!!! I'm proud of this >w<

I want to thank my dearest discord parent Kage for making their music because it carried me through the process of writing!!!

Fandom: Drakengard 3 Rating: M Ships: One/Five, Zero/Five Summary: On a regular visit to one of her patrons, Five stumbles upon a bloody secret that stretches back a century and threatens to unravel the tenuous peace between One and Zero.

Well, of course she investigates.

Author’s Note: releasing this one from the vault after (checks watch) five years. this is a deeply indulgent fic using the universe of an original novel ive been plugging away at, and the thing about it is it's a great medium for These Three. there will be a lot of terms thrown around--don't worry about all that! glean what you can and just have fun!

this is some of my best work with these characters, which is saying a Lot.

anyway, i hope you enjoy!

*

“Who were you writing to before?” Five asked, in the afterglow. 

The party—Michael’s, not Zero’s; she had a horrible sense for parties, and no shortage of people who would spurn an invitation for clout besides—carried on below them. It was unlikely to stop for some time; night was endless here, and so there was no racing the sunrise. 

Plenty of time, at least for one of them. On the immaculate bed, bathed in the pale beams of the everlasting moon, Zero heaved a breath of exhaustion, her stomach caving, ribs faintly visible beneath lovely flesh. There was always a lightness to her voice after she came, one which Five enjoyed as proof of a job well done. In her months of service, Five had found it was impossible to get Zero to smile; this was about as close as it got.

“What?” she huffed. 

“You were writing when I came in,” Five repeated, from the cradle of Zero’s smooth thighs. She ran fingertips across a blooming mark there, tracing the violet edges. “Who is it? One, I imagine. You don’t write to anyone else.”

Cas is at the opposite end of the couch, watching the news on the TV screen with a frown. He doesn’t bother to look at Dean. “Yes?”

“Why am I saved as Dean Winchester on your phone?” He can’t help his derisive tone.

Cas, brow furrowed, slides his gaze to Dean. “I was under the impression that was your name.”

“It is,” Dean says. He scratches his chin. “It’s just - I mean, we’ve known each other for six years, dude.”

Cas is ignoring the TV now, which is a feat, but he’s also staring at Dean through narrowed eyes. “Yes,” he says slowly. “I’m glad you can count that high.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, making a face. “I’m just sayin’ - we’re best friends, aren’t we?”

Cas blinks, still confused. “Yes. What does that have to do with your name?”

Dean pulls out his own phone. “Look,” he says, then taps on the screen a few times before showing Cas his contact info.

Cas has to lean in to see. “’Cas’ is certainly my name,” he confirms, then lifts his gaze to Dean with concern. “Dean, are you feeling alright?”

Thing is, Dean’s phone doesn’t just say Cas. It says Cas with a little bee emoji. It certainly doesn’t say Castiel Novak. Jesus. He’s not sure how to explain the difference to Cas without feeling like an idiot, so he tries a different tack: “Including my last name is weird, man.”

“Because?”

“It just is! I mean, I’m not goin’ around with my mom saved as Mary Winchester, am I?”

“No, since she’s saved under ‘mom’ because that’s what you call her. You’re saved as Dean Winchester because I call you Dean Winchester.”

“You only call me that when you’re pissed,” Dean says, stammering. “And it reminds me of my mom. Trust me - it’s weird.”

Cas is doing the thing again. Staring at Dean with narrowed eyes, picking apart information in that creepy way of his, making silent deductions like he’s Sherlock Holmes, except infinitely hotter. “That’s not why it bothers you” is all he says.

Dean’s face is on fire. “We’re best friends, man,” he says weakly, not knowing what else to say that could capture this very specific frustration. Then he shakes his head. He can’t believe he’s put off ordering his pizza for this. “Whatever,” he eventually says. He directs his attention back to pizza. “Pepperoni OK? We can get mushrooms on one side or something, you fungus freak.”

Cas doesn’t answer. All he does is frown, then pluck his phone out from Dean’s grip and start tapping away. It’s only a few seconds later that Cas is handing it back.

Dean takes a look. Cas has changed Dean’s contact info, and now it says Dean ♥. Dean’s heart jumps in his throat. Face burning, he looks at Cas.

Cas has already turned back to the news. But... Is Dean imagining it, or are Cas’s ears turning red? “Didn’t know what else to put,” Cas mumbles. “There’s no Chevy Impala emoji. And pepperoni’s fine.”

Dean’s grinning all of a sudden. He can’t stifle it. He doesn’t know what to do with this giddiness, so he just scrolls through Cas’s contacts and dials the pizza place.

He’s on the phone ordering the half pepperoni-half mushroom pizza when Cas finally turns and meets his gaze. He sees Dean’s smile and shakes his head in exasperation, but he’s biting down on a smile himself.

Dean’s still smiling when the pizza gets there.

So here's the thing, since Shadow and Bone premiered on Netflix I got a little obsessed with all the Klaroline and Darklina parallels.

It got into the point that I even started a crossover crack fanfic Klaroline X Darklina.

I wrote this for my personal scenarios and fun, so I won't be posting on fanfiction.net or AO3. I've never read the grisha books and I completely ignore the originals show existence and its characters, except for Davina and Marcel ofc.

It's not beta proofed, but it's 21k long and i don't know if I ever will be able to finish it due to work.

THAT BEING SAID, I think it's a hilarious old tvd Klaus x Caroline fic and the interactions with Alina x Darkling are just pure gold so that's why I'm sharing with you. Here's the link for reading it. Don't take it serious, it's purely for entertainment.

Tldr: Bonnie uses a crazy spell to stop Mikael and it causes Klaus and Caroline to be taken to the grishaverse.

@howeverlongs Paula my love I tried really hard to finish it and because of your support as usual I'm putting it here. Hope you have fun 💗

Written for @klarosummerbingo​

Prompt: Mermaid. You can also read it on AO3 or FF.net.

Author’s Note: I thought I’d try my hand at a Merman!Klaus. And even though I haven’t been writing for a while, writing Klaus from Klaus’ perspective is always fun. I wanted to get as much ocean vibe there as possible since I’m still cooped up inside and I want OUT. So maybe too many ocean metaphors I know I know. Still, hope you enjoy:)

***

He didn’t remember California being this hot the last time he was here. Klaus’s brows furrowed so tightly under the scorching sun he could feel a headache coming up. He wished he had brought the sunglasses Rebekah gave him the last time she was home. “And what use would I have for those?” He’d asked, veiling his amusement and affection under a layer of criticism as usual. But Rebekah knew him too well to get riled up by a simple comment like that, or to be intimidated for that matter, “for one, it would make you look less like an old grumpy wanker.”

He had to admit to himself: sometimes it was nice to have a sister.

But certainly not right now. Right now he would very much like to drag Rebekah by her meddling little arms and throw her right into a pod of raucous dolphins. Let her get a taste of being annoyed to no end without an out. That was, if he could find her in the foreseeable future.

He should have known that his little sister was up to no good. She’d called out to him three days ago in the special frequency that only their kind could hear, asking to meet him at a beach in Malibu. Even through their own coded words she sounded distressed. So Klaus had cut short the very important errand he was running around the Japanese Sea and crossed almost the entire Pacific Ocean for his thousand-year-old baby sister.

Only to get stood up, scared to the point of committing homicide – or whatever was the correct term for a merman killing a Homo Sapien, and forced running around town for a whiff of her whereabouts. After two days’ worth of restless searching, he was left exhausted in this desert of a place with the infuriating news that Rebekah, his distressed sister, was airily sipping rainbow-colored cocktails in Tahiti, perfectly safe and sated.

And perfectly blocking all of his calls.

The little twit didn’t even have the decency to apologize. Instead, she threw accusations in the form of an all-cap text message.

STOP BLOWING UP MY PHONE NIK! YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME FOR GETTING YOU OUT ON LAND BEFORE YOU ROT IN THAT HELL YOU CALL YOUR BIRTHRIGHT.

And then another. At least not all cap this time.

Surprised you remembered the phone though, since YOU DIDN’T EVEN HAVE WIFI IN THAT DUMP!

Klaus sighed, resisting the urge to throw the phone and hear it crack just to release one thousandth of his frustration. Barring call-blocking, this remains the most convenient way for him to contact any of his siblings in human territory. Also, the sleek black device was yet another gift from Rebekah, and he’d rather hang onto it even though she was not his favorite person at the moment, to put it lightly.

Rebekah had never been subtle about her agenda to lure him into the human world. Granted subtlety had never been her strong suit, but for the past century or so she’d switched lanes from casual hints here and there to downright blatant bombardment. And now apparently it had come to the stage of cheap trickery and scheming. She was one step away from straight-up kidnapping.

As if. Klaus ground his teeth, his mouth dry like sand in the Californian beach. He’d keep her in her tail-swaying mermaid form if he had to, just so she didn’t take that final step.

Not that he hadn’t tried. Klaus thought darkly, skin tight and crisp from the lack of water. A few centuries ago when his older brother Elijah found out he was working with their Shaman trying to find a way to bind all his siblings in their merpeople forms forever, they’d been furious. Rebekah had raved and cried, his younger brother Kol swung and smashed, and Elijah just left without one more word.

They all did eventually. It’d taken him almost a century to find them, and another to get back into their good graces. But by then they’d all established their contented lives in the human world, endeared and bedazzled by the fresh, quirky, fleeting yet booming human ways.

And he was left here alone, in some nameless human neighborhood, hot and thirsty and drained, in a world that he neither cared for nor understood.

He needed to find some water, soon.