#klarolineau

ᑌᑭᗪᗩTE :

oĸ ѕo, ι waѕ wonderιng ιғ anyвody woυld вe ιnтereѕтed ιn acтυally readιng мy ѕтory ιғ ι poѕтed ιт?

тнх Lolly

“I can’t let you do this Klaus! They love each other, they deserve to live in peace!” she shouted accusingly, her voice full of defiance and conviction.

Klaus tightened his fists, angered at her disobedience, but that anger was outweighed by the relief in his heart at knowing that she was safe and that she was still his.

“I won’t let you stop them. You will end the dagger threats against Kol and you will stop keeping Davina as a prisoner to use her as your little secret weapon against the quarter witches,” she screamed.

Klaus walked towards her, the fury evident in his face.

Tyler quickly took a hold of Caroline’s arm, ready to protect her against the Original hybrid’s rage.

Klaus wooshed towards Tyler, grabbing him from his shirt and pressing him against the house, keeping him immobile with one hand inside his chest cavity, a tight hold on his heart, ready to rip it out and finally be done with him.

“Don’t ever touch her again,” he spat, watching as Tyler spat out blood and struggled to speak.

Klaroline Fashion Designer and Actress AU

Summary:

As a fashion designer, Klaus Mikaelson is hell of an anomaly for not paying any attention to celebrities. And when the world famous actress Caroline Forbes accidentally barges into his high-end clothing store, he has literally no idea what and who is hitting on him...

The door opened as Klaus puts the last roll of fabric away.

“We’re closed,” he announces, sneaking a glance at the clock on the wall. Half past nine on a Friday night sounds like a good excuse for a bar getaway, not that self-employed as Klaus needs one to go on an alcohol spree.

And the most melodic voice he’s heard in years reached his ears, “Oh, I’m so, so sorry but could you please wait for another 15 minutes? I really, really need to get a new dress for this party tomorrow.”

Klaus turns to look at source of the voice, only to face a woman with a head of heavenly blonde curls. Having taken off her face-covering huge sunglasses (who wears bloody sunglasses at night?), she is now looking at him expectantly with a smile that says she’s confident she’ll eventually get what she wants. Cladded in white see-through T-shirt and pale-washed boyfriend jeans, her make-up seems a little dramatic for such a simple but chic look, as if she’s just changed into casual clothing after finishing whatever required that heavy smoky eyes and rouge lips.

Usually, Klaus is not the kind of guy who slows down his pace for any pretty face he encounters- especially not when he’s planning on drowning in booze- but the gorgeous blonde (with too much make-up on) makes him not the usual Klaus today.

Klaus feigns hesitation and looks between the clock and her face several times before giving in with his smile, dimples on full force, “I guess the scotch I’ve been eagerly looking forward to can wait for another quarter or two.”

“Thank you for the big hand!” The blonde grins and immediately turns to the clothes that are hanging along the walls, “you have no idea how this last minute party notice is driving me nuts. I mean, if they’re not aware that I’m not a fan of surprises or pop-up invitations, then those dudes should really consider a new job. I thought my reputation as a control freak is as wide-spread as Taylor Swift’s break up news. You know, like, nation-wide. Anyways, so I was informed about this party tomorrow just an hour ago, and guess what? Of course all the clothing stores choose to close early- well not so early since it’s Friday night- when the short notice caught me off guard and I have no nice outfit to wear. And then I saw your store glowing light from the inside and seemed still open so I had to come in and give it a try.”

Klaus listens as her mouth shoots out her anxiety like a machine gun while she fingers, with polished French nails, through the one-pieces he tailored a few weeks ago. He can’t help but chuckle and be drawn a bit more to her endearing babbling.

“Shit, I’m rambling again, right?” Alarmed by Klaus’ silent chuckles, she turns and gives him an apologetic smile, “sorry, days of catnaps and caffeine make me super hyper and anxious. Work has been driving me crazy, and the party had to add itself into the equation.”

“No worries, love,” he shrugs and takes a step towards her, “now how about you tell me what style of outfit you’re looking for and I can give you some advice on my pieces, just to have your nerves eased sooner?”

The blonde raises her perfectly shaped brows as if impressed and surprised, “you made all this?”

“I’m the owner and designer of this store. My brand.”

“Wow. You’re damn good, I have to say- not because you delayed your drinking getaway for me, I mean it-and that’s a lot coming from me. I’ve seen my fair share of clothes,” she winks, which gives Klaus a strange feeling. The amount of confidence the girl is oozing should make anyone seem arrogant but the way she wears it makes him believe she deserves it.

Keep reading here.

I know it's been a long time but finally,

A new update for And Beauty Remains!

Before Caroline could talk herself down and go on the run, the door in front of her opened to reveal a shirtless Klaus, sport pants hanging low on his hips. Shocked, he stood in the doorway as he gave her an appreciative once-over, “Caroline. Didn’t expect to see you. What brings you here?”

Faintly, she could hear fireworks blasting in the sky somewhere faraway, the splendidly colored lights dying her and Klaus’ profile in ever changing spectrums in the short moments of speechlessness. Looking in those ocean blue eyes were like being vacuumed into a Christmas crystal globe, flakes of memories and feelings shimmering from above, the rest of the world eclipsed to the silent background.

“I came here for you,” she explained bluntly, overwhelmed by the waves of emotions splashing on her sand fort of composure. She knew she wanted him on the way here, but what she hadn’t known was that she not only wanted him but also needed him, badly.

Klaus frowned, confusion written all over his handsome face. “Caroline, don’t say things you don’t mean. I thought you-”

Keep reading here.

Read some of my Beauty drabbles here.

Hey guys.

So I’ve been missing a bit. Just had some personal emotions to deal with and some school monsters to fight.

Anyways, now I’m back and trying to warm up my rusted writer’s mind by posting this all human, sweet mini drabble. (warning: I haven’t been writing in English in months so there might be huge grammar mistakes, idk.)

Hope you like it, the next chapter of Beauty will come up in a week (or so I hope).

“Hmmmmmmm,” Caroline groaned, rolling over on her front. With a faint hiss, she arched her back as much as she could- considering her condition now, she gave herself a pat on the back, mentally, for even having strength to do so- so that her shivering, pale hands could cover her belly.

It wouldn’t really be of much use, gathered from the rare experiences where she’d had menstrual pain, the comfort and warmth her palms could offer was nothing compared to the torturing agony.

She coughed, giving herself- or rather, her body- an imaginary eye roll because of course it would be just perfect to cough when her womb is practically having a self-destroying explosion, when she’d been paralyzed by the pain so long that she could hardly trust her tampon, when she fucking forgot to buy new pain-killer after consuming the last pill two months ago.

Because it just seem like the perfect timing for her normally all-too-healthy body to suddenly collapse into a catastrophic flue, headache and coughing and fever and all.

“Klaus…” Caroline whispered, not sure how long it would take for him to get back from work.

Just the thought of his soothing hands ceased the pain, if only just a little, and with that she slowly drifted, into her safe house of unicorns and rainbows.

 * 

“Caroline, love,” she woke up to a face she was too familiar with, only this time worry was written all over it. She blinked as Klaus gently shook her a few more times. She opened her mouth, tearing her drought-sealed lips a little as she parted them, and tried to speak but in vain.

“Don’t, you’re probably too dehydrated to even talk right now,” Klaus cooed, brushing her sweat drenched hair off of her face, “what are you doing down there? How long have you been curling on the floor?”

Sensing her husband’s unpleasantness, she shot him an apologetic smile while shaking her head slightly. She felt dizzy even doing that, let alone keeping track of the time she’d spent acquainting the floor of their flat.

Klaus sighed and wrapped her with her favorite fluffy polka-dot blanket, “you know you should’ve at least make it to the bed before you faint. And you should’ve agreed with my plan to take a leave from work to take care of you today. That way I wouldn’t have to come home to my wife’s body lying at the parlor.”

On normal conditions, she might find his comments snarky or even see it as a way to start a fight as usual but today she was just too exhausted to fight back. Plus, it seemed like all that bossiness came from the anxiety he was suffering, while actually she was the sick one. So yeah, a lipped ‘sorry’ wouldn’t hurt and she’ll let him win. Just this once.

“Come on, let’s get you under the sheets and I’ll go make some light meal for you before you take the medicine. Your fever is insane,” Klaus’ lean arms found their ways under her burning neck and the crook of her knees, but she refused to be moved.

Later, when she was more conscious and feeling more like herself, Caroline would claim it was the virus and the fever’s doing, but she pouted like a child and moaned, “but I don’t want to. It feels so good lying on the floor.”

“Which is basically because the tiles are cooling you down by taking away your body heat,” he reasoned, “but I’m sure you won’t like it after taking the medicine and chilling down.”

She whipped her head away from him without leaving much more than a firm ‘no.’

He sighed.

Vaguely, she heard him standing up from kneeling and padding off to their room, leaving. She wanted so badly for him to come back and hold her like he had. She’d started missing his touch from the second he left her but was too weak and stubborn to admit.

Slowly, the drowsiness once again dragged her into the swamp of heavy sleep.

 *

 Caroline is awaken by the invading sunlight that penetrates her eyelids.

As her consciousness gradually come around, she spots the ripped tin package of some fever tablet and half a cup of water. Her eyelids are still heavy, but her throat isn’t swelling as much and her nostrils aren’t feeling like they’re spitting fire anymore. She must’ve taken the medicine sometime during her sleep. Nuzzling more into the cocoon of blanket she’s tucked into, she finally felt the weight of something above and behind her. She twists a bit and sees Klaus, brows furrowed- obviously not enjoying his sleep on the floor, breathing in and out soundly behind her, arm wrapped around her cocoon of a body.

She can’t help but crane her neck and peck his stubbled jaw, which leads to his stirring.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Caroline managed to say, albeit still sore and husky.

Klaus mumbles something in return, which she makes no effort to understand. But it only makes the grin on her face glow wider. “You know you didn’t have to stay on the floor with me. I wasn’t really making sense last night,” she committed, grimacing at her alternate, childish self from the night before.

“It’s not that bad,” Klaus’ words become more understandable this time, and she bets he’ll deny ever saying this afterwards when they’re in public, his alpha male I’m-the-supposed-feared-kickass-big-bad-lawyer ego coming to play, “and I did promise to have and hold you in sickness and in health.”

So I came up with this fluffy tiny plot and went into action. Do you like iiiiiiit?

If so, please review here and keep on reading my stupid, funny headcanon aftermath:

“Shit, did you change my tampon as well?”

“No, am I supposed to?”

“Errr, I don’t really know… it’s just, I’m glad that you didn’t but it’s also a bit … you know, they’ve been in there for like, over 24 hours already and the blood is going to-”

Klaroline AU And Beauty Remains Finally Updated!

Story Sum:

Caroline was a US college girl who was fresh off the shore in London, ready to start her adventurous exchange life in her dream city. Klaus happened to be her dreaded, demanding, notorious university art course lecturer who directed his contrariness against this new girl on the first day of the semester…

PROLOGUE: Exotic historical Klaroline AU UPLOADED!

When Caroline, the poor English village girl who got sold by her desperate family, hopped off the human traffickers’ ship, she didn’t know where this exotic, oriental land was…. Until she ended up as one of the emperor’s latest concubines.And oh lord help her, the emperor was not who everyone else thought he was…

“Sing me one more song, Hummingbird,” one day he paused abruptly in the middle of splashing water at her face, and Caroline remembered how she couldn’t bring herself to care as long as she could hear him call her that nickname he used whenever he wanted her to sing, “sing me your favorite.”

“Why should I? I’ve already sang you 3 today, and you haven’t even help me sell the milk yet. Why don’t we go sell it together this time? You never let me go with you,” young Caroline straightened from the pond with a cocked eyebrow, suggesting.

Klaroline AU/AH drabble

This story came to me when I was sinking my teeth in to the best apple pie I’ve had in years yesterday. I was like, umm this tastes like something Caroline would like, but would Klaus like it? Nah, I don’t think he cares for sweets, but what if….?

So, enjoy this drabble full of blind, unexpected juices!

 Blindside

 It’s been a long day, Caroline sighs as she walks down the slope that lead to her rented apartment. As a journalism graduate who juggles 4 different courses, her not-so-promising-so-far thesis, a job as TA and her part-time job at the college pastry store, she thanks for at least having time to stuff a bun or two into her growling stomach during her poor, short excuse of a lunch break today.

“Ugh, seriously?” She stops in front of the under construction sign and the temporary fences that blocks her most direct way home. The design of the neighborhood she’s living in is such a mess with so many blocks that aren’t square, which means if her usual way is closed, she won’t be able to simply go around the block without detouring too much.

The fucking universe enjoys the hobby of making her already frustrated day a misery. That was a conclusion she’s come to recently. So she turns right into the small alley and calculates the turns and blocks she’ll have to take to get to a hot, steaming tub of fragranced bath.

The signal changes as she reaches the end of the dark alley, and she has no choice but to look around at this unfamiliar part of her neighborhood while waiting for the light to turn green again.

And there across the street, she sees a patisserie with dim lighting and a classy black-and-gold sign. She studies the décor inside it from across the trains of hustling cars and is a little surprised to find a balance of taste, fun and chic in this corner of town. Don’t get her wrong, she’s not living in huge, famous, trendy cities with a kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats under coats- according to Taylor Swift- but the one she’s living in is a rather big one with tastes someone as perfectionist and demanding as she is can live with. But that, the bold and unique paintings hanging on the walls and the innovative furnishings that are more often found in art galleries than in pastry shops in quite areas of towns, is not what you expect every day.

So Caroline Forbes, a future journalist and a part-time pastry store worker, finds no excuse to not give the mystery some explore. Who knows, maybe she could do a spread on the school news about how no match her work place is to this privately-operated one and how the school pastry store should improve its quality?

She enters the patisserie with an elegant tinkle as she closes the heavy glass door. There is no one at the counter so she helps herself to the display fridge with delicate delicacies. Tartelettes, éclairs, macarons and gâteaus in all kinds of shapes and colors are showcased and they scream EXPENSIVE.

“What can I get you?” a male voice dripping crisp British accent and sex appeal rings from the back of the counter, knocking Caroline out of her little plan of leaving and saving herself- her purse and bank account mostly- before anyone discovers she is so stupid that she enters a high class patisserie without thinking twice about the price first. Seriously, her journalist impulse needs to behave.

“I was just looking, actually,” she winces straightening herself up from the display, only to find the sole accompany in this store is even more delicious than the sweets he sells.

“Take your time,” the man shruggs, wiping off the custard on his hands with his apron, “tell me if you need anything, I’ll be right back there baking.”

“Wait, you own this place?” Caroline blurts out before even thinking, and soon finds herself rude for having this stereotype that bakers or pastry chefs are all round, chubby middle-agers with exotic mustache. Seriously, Forbes, your mind needs some update and upgrade. Hot guys like the one standing in front of you with cream all over their toned fore arms take important roles in most women’s night fantasies!

But the guy doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, all he does is chuckle and step a little closer to her in the restricted counter area, “I am indeed. Just started this place, couldn’t afford much so I had to run the whole show- clerk, chef, owner, janitor…”

She giggles to his little joke and tries to fight back the blush- if she wasn’t already flushing for the embarrassment she’s brought herself just a few seconds ago- that crawles across her cheeks as she locks eyes with his.

“I’d like to shake hands with you if mine aren’t sticky with the frostings, but I’m Klaus, multi-functional owner of Hybrid Patisserie. Very nice to meet you,” he smirks, clearly aware of the affect he has on her thus switching from business mode to a more casual –or maybe flirting even?- one.

She nodded, going back to the pastries in order to hide her blush, “Caroline, journalism graduate at Whitmore. Nice to meet you too.”

“Whitmore? That university is just a few blocks away I believe? How come I’ve never seen you before?” He questioned, following her to the beautifully made sweet-arts so that they are only separated by the island of the displayer.

“Well this part of the community is not where I usually visit,” Caroline answers as she pretends to be interested in a particular brownish cake.

“I see you are into Mont-Blancs? Now I thought you were the kind of rosy girls for fruit tarts and chocolates.” He smirks, catching the sight he provoked from her with a taunting smile.

You wanna play this game, Mr. Klaus? The control freak in her is evoked by his half-flirt and half-dare. Taking the challenge, she quickly manages to collect her composure and straightens herself with all her queen bee, alpha female glory, “oh? Why don’t you tell me what you believe my kind of rosy girls usually go for?”

Witnessing her change of mood, Klaus’ smirk grows into a wide grin that makes her want to smack him right in the face if she hadn’t just known him for like 10 minutes, “well, I’d recommend my Chocolate Profiteroles and Religieuse to my usual chocoholic customers and Paris-Brests, which is is basically a cream puff filled with praline-flavored cream, to girls who doesn’t frown at some fine, refreshing custard and carbs. But if you are indeed fruit lovers, just between you and me, love, I’d strongly advice that you try my lemon tart. They’re not out-standing in appearances but trust me, sometimes great beauty hides in the most unexpected corner and I make the best lemon tart in town. And I take it someone with such bright eyes like you do is not one of the girls that judges a book by its cover, am I correct?”

Is he subtly referring to her skip of heartbeat when she just saw him? Wait, did he detect her mouthwatering over his look? Caroline panicks secretly, hey, you can’t blame a girl for losing control for just a moment when given such an eye candy right after viewing pastry porn, okay?

“Okay…” Caroline murmurs, mind speeding a mile a minute to come up with some retort powerful enough to get her the upper hand, “so which of them is your personal favorite?”

“None.” His statement is brief, firm and flat.

“None?” Caroline cocks her brow, “how can you not like any of them, you made them, they’re technically your children!”

He simply shruggs in response, “I just don’t care for sweet things.”

“Wait, this doesn’t make sense.” Caroline argues, the journalist in her taking over to clear confusions, “you’re a pastry chef, but you don’t like sweet food. How can you bake tasty pastries if you don’t care for them?”

“Is it so hard to believe?” he leans over the display fridge so that his face is propped up against his folded arms on the surface, just a few inches away from hers, “Most of Beethoven’s greatest pieces were written after he’d gone deaf, Monet’s almost blindness brought his art into a new, grander phase and there are more, numerous examples I can list you when it comes to someone excelling things others don’t think they’re able to.”

“But-” Caroline tries to shoot back but is immediately cut short by the very good-looking pâtissier.

“But, I am very willing to make an exception to my sugar-free diet, sweetheart,” Klaus smirked cheekly, “would you like to come to my place and have some exclusive desserts Friday?”

She gapes for a while before coming back to her senses, “are you asking me out right after we had that not-so- fierce debate?”

“Pretty much so.”

Caroline taps her chin, faking hesitation before finally grinning, “only if you promise extra cream. Oh and strawberries.”