Tags/Warnings: First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Artists, Klaus Mikaelson being Klaus Mikaelson, Flirting, timelines aren't real
Summary: While avoiding her problems, Micki meets a stranger in a bar. He shows interest in her artistic talent, and against her better judgement, she agrees to let him mentor her. Little does she know just how strange Klaus Mikaelson can really be….
A/N: Don't ask me where this came from I just get ideas sometimes
*************
Micki Ramirez looked around the bar, tapping her pencil against her sketchbook. She’d come out here to do some people watching, get some inspiration, and maybe distract herself from the phone calls she was avoiding. Usually going out in New Orleans gave her something interesting to sketch, a street musician or a pair of lovers or something. But today, nothing was catching her eye.
Until something did.
The door opening drew her attention and Micki had to hold in a gasp.
A man stepped in. Striking blue eyes looked right over her as he strode toward the bar, running his hands through his perfectly messy blond hair. A light stubble framed his sharp face, drawing her attention to his soft lips. Micki watched him as he slid onto a bar stool and placed a bill on the counter. By the look on the bartender’s face, it was a large one.
Almost without conscious thought, her pencil started moving across the page.
She’d never seen him before, at least not in this bar, but he sat there as if he owned the place. There was something magnetic about him, an air of mystery. Something in the way he moved, something Micki couldn’t quite explain.
She knew she was staring. She knew it was rude. She knew the minute he realized what she was doing- and he would- he would probably be angry.
But she kept sketching. His face. His eyes. His profile. His back. The way his hand curled around a glass of bourbon. The angle of his shoes on the bar stool footrest.
Before she knew it, she’d filled 3 pages with this stranger and she wasn’t slowing down. She flipped to another page and looked up again, only to find he wasn’t there. Frowning, she looked around, wondering where he might have gone.
“Lost your subject?” a smooth British accent said behind her.
Her grip tightened on her pencil, her only outward reaction. She knew even before she turned around that that voice belonged to the mystery man at the bar. Her heart raced as she tried to form an apology, turning slowly to give herself just a little more time.
When their eyes finally met, she noticed a predatory gleam in them that hadn’t been obvious from a distance. Her apology died in her throat as his lips spread into a smirk. He sat next to her, throwing his arm over the back of his chair and casually crossing his legs.
“May I see them?”
Micki quirked an eyebrow. “….Why?”
“I’m the subject, am I not? Traditionally a muse is allowed to inspect the work they inspire.”
She wordlessly handed her sketchbook over. “It’s not my best work,” she said. “I was just- It’s a hobby.”
The man inspected her drawings with an intensity she hadn’t expected. “You have a talent,” he said as he turned to the final page. “This isn’t just a hobby for you. It’s a passion, one you don’t indulge in nearly enough.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Ah, so you’re psychic. Good to know.”
“Not psychic, love. Just someone who’s been around long enough to notice these things.” He set her sketchbook down on the table and looked at her with the same intensity he had her drawings. “What is your name?”
“Micki. Who are you?”
“Mickey- as in Mouse or-”
“Short for Michelle. And you are?”
The man’s smirk returned. “Klaus Mikaelson. Tell me, Michelle-”
“Micki.”
“-do you only draw? Or does your talent extend to other mediums of art?”
She sat back and crossed her arms. “I paint on occasion. Why?”
“I quite like your work. I’d like to commission something.”
She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Did you miss the part where I said it was a hobby?”
“Did you miss the part where I said I liked it?” Klaus shot back.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I never kid.” Klaus sat up, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, his hands folded in front of his face. “I know talent when I see it, and you have it in spades. You’ve just never properly nurtured it.”
“And you would help me nurture it?”
“Why not? I have a private studio, supplies, plenty of money to cover whatever expenses you might have. I’d like to see what you’re truly capable of, Michelle.”
Micki grit her teeth. “Quit calling me that; it’s Micki.”
The smirk grew. “Very well. I’d like to see what a natural talent such as yourself is truly capable of, Micki.”
“And what’s the catch?”
“Pardon?”
“I’m not stupid, and you’re far too confident not to know what you’re doing.” Micki sat forward, mimicking Klaus’ pose. “You find some random girl in a bar, dazzle her with compliments, and offer her whatever you think her dream setup is. And what do you get out of it?”
“You paint me as some sort of predator. I’m wounded.”
“Aren’t you?”
Something flickered across his face- it could’ve been pain or something else, she couldn’t tell. The smirk dropped for just a moment. “Perhaps you’re right. I’m far from an innocent man. Perhaps I do have something to gain besides just nurturing a fellow artist.”
“And that would be?”
“You intrigue me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Micki couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Is that supposed to make this less weird?”
“No.” Klaus leaned closer, resting his chin on his folded hands. “You intrigue me. I’d like to get to know you. I’d like to see you grow as an artist. I’d like to see you smile. And I’m accustomed to using every asset at my disposal to get what I want. So, perhaps my methods are ‘weird’. That doesn’t make my motives less sincere.”
Micki blinked, unsure of how to respond to that. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms again. “You’re not the kind of man who takes ‘no’ for an answer, are you?”
“Not usually, no.”
“So if I told you to fuck off and find some other starving artist to bother?”
“I’d come back tomorrow, wait for you to get lost in committing my image to the page, then ask again.”
“You’re the persistent type.”
“I’m very patient when I want to be.”
Micki looked him up and down, considering. It was a bit foolish, to agree to follow this stranger back to his private studio (likely located in his home). She had no idea what he truly expected from her, what she would truly gain from this. It could be a waste of time at best and incredibly dangerous at worst.
But she found herself intrigued by him. She wanted to know what sort of man would approach a stranger in a bar, glance at their work, and offer a commission. She wanted to know where he was from, how he got here, how he became this way. She wanted to know the reason for that predatory glint in his eye, the sharp teeth he hid behind a charming smile.
“What would you have me do?”
Klaus’ smirk returned in full force. “Allow me to buy you a drink, and we’ll discuss terms.”
Micki nodded and watched him stride back to the bar.
This would either be the best decision she’d ever made, or the worst. She couldn’t wait to find out.
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Tags/Warnings: First Meetings, Meet-Cute, Artists, Klaus Mikaelson being Klaus Mikaelson, Flirting, timelines aren't real
Summary: While avoiding her problems, Micki meets a stranger in a bar. He shows interest in her artistic talent, and against her better judgement, she agrees to let him mentor her. Little does she know just how strange Klaus Mikaelson can really be….
A/N: Don't ask me where this came from I just get ideas sometimes
*************
Micki Ramirez looked around the bar, tapping her pencil against her sketchbook. She’d come out here to do some people watching, get some inspiration, and maybe distract herself from the phone calls she was avoiding. Usually going out in New Orleans gave her something interesting to sketch, a street musician or a pair of lovers or something. But today, nothing was catching her eye.
Until something did.
The door opening drew her attention and Micki had to hold in a gasp.
A man stepped in. Striking blue eyes looked right over her as he strode toward the bar, running his hands through his perfectly messy blond hair. A light stubble framed his sharp face, drawing her attention to his soft lips. Micki watched him as he slid onto a bar stool and placed a bill on the counter. By the look on the bartender’s face, it was a large one.
Almost without conscious thought, her pencil started moving across the page.
She’d never seen him before, at least not in this bar, but he sat there as if he owned the place. There was something magnetic about him, an air of mystery. Something in the way he moved, something Micki couldn’t quite explain.
She knew she was staring. She knew it was rude. She knew the minute he realized what she was doing- and he would- he would probably be angry.
But she kept sketching. His face. His eyes. His profile. His back. The way his hand curled around a glass of bourbon. The angle of his shoes on the bar stool footrest.
Before she knew it, she’d filled 3 pages with this stranger and she wasn’t slowing down. She flipped to another page and looked up again, only to find he wasn’t there. Frowning, she looked around, wondering where he might have gone.
“Lost your subject?” a smooth British accent said behind her.
Her grip tightened on her pencil, her only outward reaction. She knew even before she turned around that that voice belonged to the mystery man at the bar. Her heart raced as she tried to form an apology, turning slowly to give herself just a little more time.
When their eyes finally met, she noticed a predatory gleam in them that hadn’t been obvious from a distance. Her apology died in her throat as his lips spread into a smirk. He sat next to her, throwing his arm over the back of his chair and casually crossing his legs.
“May I see them?”
Micki quirked an eyebrow. “….Why?”
“I’m the subject, am I not? Traditionally a muse is allowed to inspect the work they inspire.”
She wordlessly handed her sketchbook over. “It’s not my best work,” she said. “I was just- It’s a hobby.”
The man inspected her drawings with an intensity she hadn’t expected. “You have a talent,” he said as he turned to the final page. “This isn’t just a hobby for you. It’s a passion, one you don’t indulge in nearly enough.”
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Ah, so you’re psychic. Good to know.”
“Not psychic, love. Just someone who’s been around long enough to notice these things.” He set her sketchbook down on the table and looked at her with the same intensity he had her drawings. “What is your name?”
“Micki. Who are you?”
“Mickey- as in Mouse or-”
“Short for Michelle. And you are?”
The man’s smirk returned. “Klaus Mikaelson. Tell me, Michelle-”
“Micki.”
“-do you only draw? Or does your talent extend to other mediums of art?”
She sat back and crossed her arms. “I paint on occasion. Why?”
“I quite like your work. I’d like to commission something.”
She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Did you miss the part where I said it was a hobby?”
“Did you miss the part where I said I liked it?” Klaus shot back.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I never kid.” Klaus sat up, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table, his hands folded in front of his face. “I know talent when I see it, and you have it in spades. You’ve just never properly nurtured it.”
“And you would help me nurture it?”
“Why not? I have a private studio, supplies, plenty of money to cover whatever expenses you might have. I’d like to see what you’re truly capable of, Michelle.”
Micki grit her teeth. “Quit calling me that; it’s Micki.”
The smirk grew. “Very well. I’d like to see what a natural talent such as yourself is truly capable of, Micki.”
“And what’s the catch?”
“Pardon?”
“I’m not stupid, and you’re far too confident not to know what you’re doing.” Micki sat forward, mimicking Klaus’ pose. “You find some random girl in a bar, dazzle her with compliments, and offer her whatever you think her dream setup is. And what do you get out of it?”
“You paint me as some sort of predator. I’m wounded.”
“Aren’t you?”
Something flickered across his face- it could’ve been pain or something else, she couldn’t tell. The smirk dropped for just a moment. “Perhaps you’re right. I’m far from an innocent man. Perhaps I do have something to gain besides just nurturing a fellow artist.”
“And that would be?”
“You intrigue me.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
Micki couldn’t hold back her laugh. “Is that supposed to make this less weird?”
“No.” Klaus leaned closer, resting his chin on his folded hands. “You intrigue me. I’d like to get to know you. I’d like to see you grow as an artist. I’d like to see you smile. And I’m accustomed to using every asset at my disposal to get what I want. So, perhaps my methods are ‘weird’. That doesn’t make my motives less sincere.”
Micki blinked, unsure of how to respond to that. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms again. “You’re not the kind of man who takes ‘no’ for an answer, are you?”
“Not usually, no.”
“So if I told you to fuck off and find some other starving artist to bother?”
“I’d come back tomorrow, wait for you to get lost in committing my image to the page, then ask again.”
“You’re the persistent type.”
“I’m very patient when I want to be.”
Micki looked him up and down, considering. It was a bit foolish, to agree to follow this stranger back to his private studio (likely located in his home). She had no idea what he truly expected from her, what she would truly gain from this. It could be a waste of time at best and incredibly dangerous at worst.
But she found herself intrigued by him. She wanted to know what sort of man would approach a stranger in a bar, glance at their work, and offer a commission. She wanted to know where he was from, how he got here, how he became this way. She wanted to know the reason for that predatory glint in his eye, the sharp teeth he hid behind a charming smile.
“What would you have me do?”
Klaus’ smirk returned in full force. “Allow me to buy you a drink, and we’ll discuss terms.”
Micki nodded and watched him stride back to the bar.
This would either be the best decision she’d ever made, or the worst. She couldn’t wait to find out.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Cordell sending Stella off to the dance!! Bless his heart
Cordell's game night is different than Trey and Micki's 🤣🤣
Not to be judgey but Liam is ADA and I'm sure he's had death threats before. His panic to the situation felt a bit weird. Though I do feel bad for him
the whole Bonham-Abeline-Gary love triangle feels weird too. I mean did we really need that? It doesn't really add to the story anyway. Don't really see a point. Also, Abby, when you cheat, you don't get to be mad at your spouse for reacting in a certain way
Bel and Auggie's friendship was so much better than Bel and Stella
Micki-Trey-Walker trio: Trickier 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣
Supernatural Easter egg: Lucifer hummingbird
is it just me or Jared's voice as Walker is a lot huskier and deeper than Sam's?
Speaking of Sam, Cordell is just as awkward around women as he is
Bonham: Love is a verb, Liam. It's something you do actively ❤️
Also, Trey deserved better
I could never like Trevor and not for once I believe he loved Stella. He started off on Clint's Revenge path and later was a confused nut
Hmmm, not sure. The answer Lindsay gave here isn't sitting as well as it should for me (only part of the story). Thoughts?
The actress departed from The CW series in its second season.
Doctors at the time told her she had two options: Keep living her life constantly busy and stressed, working 16 hours a day, four to five days a week for none months straight, and get on medication she may need to be on for the rest of her life to cope; or she had to completely change her lifestyle in a way that led to minimal or no stress.
I thought one of the perks of working on Walker was the shorter work days? I'm sure I'm gonna find more sources pointing to more specifics tomorrow, but this was my first thought. Hmmm...
