#tvd reader insert

The night air in Mystic Falls was thick with the scent of rain and something older, something darker—a primal force that seemed to awaken only for him. The storm clouds churned in the heavens, restless and heavy, promising a downpour that never quite came. You stood alone at the edge of the Lockwood property, arms wrapped tightly around yourself against the gathering chill. But it wasn't the coming storm that made your skin prickle—it was the presence lurking in the shadows.

It was him. Klaus.

You felt him before you heard him: a magnetic pull that coiled deep inside you, a thread tightening mercilessly around your very soul. Your breath hitched, heart stuttering as the air grew thicker, charged with unseen electricity. The tension was suffocating, a storm of its own brewing inside you. When he emerged from the trees, it was with the effortless grace of a predator who knew his prey—knew it so intimately, so thoroughly—there was no hope of escape.

"You're mine, love," Klaus murmured, his voice a low, dark velvet that slid over your skin and sank its claws into your mind. His smile was deceptively soft, but underneath it, you could hear it—the silent growl, the hunger barely leashed, the raw, territorial dominance.

You took a trembling step back, but the mark he left on you pulsed in traitorous response. It wasn't a scar, not something physical you could erase or hide. It was something deeper, something primal. When Klaus had touched you days ago, brushing his fingertips down your spine in what should have been a fleeting, forgettable moment, he'd done more than simply graze your skin.

He had branded you. Supernaturally.

The bond was invisible, intangible, yet it thrummed with a brutal, tangible force. His presence dragged at your soul, an invisible tether that bound you to him, pulling tighter and tighter no matter how fiercely you resisted. Every beat of your heart answered to the rhythm he set. Every breath you took tasted faintly of him. Every whispered thought seemed to echo with his voice, seeping deeper with each moment you stood there.

"You think you can outrun destiny?" Klaus asked, his voice rich with amusement and something darker, something lethal. He tilted his head slightly, studying you with those ancient, merciless eyes. Lightning split the sky behind him, illuminating his figure in stark, terrible beauty—the very picture of an ancient god descended to earth. "You just haven't admitted it yet."

Your throat worked, desperate to summon denial, to scream that he was wrong—but the words crumbled before they could form. Deep down, beneath the layers of fear and defiance, something stirred. Recognition. A dark, dangerous part of you that answered his call without hesitation, a part of you that had always belonged to him even before you knew his name.

Klaus reached out, slow and deliberate, brushing his fingers along the line of your jaw. The moment his skin met yours, the mark inside you thrummed—eager, needy, traitorous. Your body betrayed you further, swaying subtly toward him, aching for a touch you swore you didn't want. You hated the way your body leaned toward him without permission, the way your soul whispered his name even as your mind screamed to fight.

"I marked you," Klaus said, voice a low snarl against your ear. "You are tethered to me, bound by something older than magic, stronger than any vow."

The rain began to fall, slow and heavy, soaking you to the bone. The chill should have made you shiver, but it barely registered—the fire he stoked beneath your skin burned hotter, fiercer. Klaus moved closer, his chest brushing against yours, his scent—earth, spice, danger—overwhelming your senses. His hand slid from your jaw to your throat, not squeezing—never hurting—just resting there, a dark promise of the power he wielded over you.

"No one else will ever touch you," he murmured, his voice roughened by something primal. "No one else will ever dare."

The bond between you shuddered, tightened, a living thing that pulsed in time with your heartbeat. The world blurred around you; there was only Klaus, only the relentless, aching tether pulling you closer, closer, until the space between your bodies vanished entirely.

"One day," he whispered, his lips brushing against yours without claiming them, "you won't just feel the bond, love. You'll crave it. You'll beg for it."

The storm broke open fully above you, rain cascading in cold sheets. But neither of you moved. Klaus simply stood there, watching you with that insufferable certainty, while you trembled beneath the weight of what had been done to you—what had always been destined.

Prologue

If one more table snaps their fingers at me, I’m dumping a beer straight into someone’s goddamn lap.

This job is shaving years off my life. And it’s only been – what? Three weeks? Four? I’ve never been a people person, but this shit is a whole other circle of hell. Pays the bills, though, and that’s what matters. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. Weird how you can always tell when someone is watching you; the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Comes with the territory, I guess – being paid to smile and serve. Still feels creepy, though. The regular crowd is mostly unremarkable. Locals, tourists, the occasional twat who thinks he’s cool because he’s ordering an IPA. I prefer the locals. Tourists come in dripping with entitlement, like the city should roll out a red carpet just because they showed up. Yesterday, some smug little prick snapped his fingers at me for another round. Like I'd drop everything I was doing and come running to him. Smiled when I called him ‘pet’. Actually thought I was being sweet. I guess Americans eat up anything you say if you have an accent. Lucky me. There’s a guy that sits at the end of the bar. Tips like he’s trying to impress someone. Not me, obviously. I don’t do ‘grateful waitress eyes’. Always the same drink. Bourbon, neat. Some Prohibition-era bullshit, probably. Matches the coat. He doesn’t talk much – at least not to me. Just watches. Bit weird, but by far not the worst I’ve seen. … God I fucking hate this job.

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My gaze lingers as she drifts through the room; fluid, detached. The dim light paints shifting shadows across her face. I catch the subtle crease in her brow, a faint tension that those without a keen eye might miss. But I see it – of course I do. I revel in the minutiae.

I see the way her words lash, like a whip of barbed wire. How her eyes narrow, just a fraction,  when someone dares to laugh after she’s gutted them. The subtle flare of her nostrils, the purse of her lips when another drunkard gets too unbridled. And the twitch in her jaw when someone is audacious enough to speak to her like she’s disposable. She smiles only when required – and even then, it’s all teeth. No warmth. No real effort to pretend. It’s fascinating to watch. Her loathing is palpable – thick in the air, bitter on the tongue. Still, she remains.  Foolish, really, to waste the impermanence of one’s mortality in a place that leeches the soul. And yet... there’s something exquisitely amusing about watching her play the part, begrudgingly, with a mouthful of sarcasm and unrepentant snark. I recall the first time she truly caught my attention. About a week ago. She was taking an order from a booth across the room when a patron began hollering obscenities at her. His breath was a sour fog, his words muddied. Couldn’t handle his liquor, I suppose. But she fired back with a heat I’ve since learned to recognise – ever-present, simmering just beneath the surface. The storm within her – the ache, the fury, the steadfast refusal to yield despite the world’s demands – ensnares me. And quite frankly, it’s a remarkable feat she hasn’t been fired yet. A man in a booth calls out to her as she passes. She glances at her wrist and keeps walking. “Off the clock,” she shouts back. He’s left sputtering, eyebrows drawn in confusion at her unexpected apathy. I feel the quirk at the corner of my mouth before I can stop it. She unties her apron and makes her way toward the bar – shoulders tense, chin high. My gaze follows her. This isn’t her usual routine. She catches me watching, my lips curled. I lift my drink in silent cheers. She gives a half-hearted shrug and looks away without a second glance. Doesn’t give me the satisfaction of a response. Interesting. Most people at least flinch beneath a stare like mine. Instead, she orders herself a drink, though I can see the faintest ghost of a smirk on her face. It vanishes almost as quickly as it appeared, as though it never existed at all. Once she’s served she takes the glass with muttered thanks, turning toward a back corner table where the shadows pool thick and undisturbed. She sits alone, still, nursing her drink in quiet solitude, head resting against the palm propping her upright. I watch, waiting – for what? I’m not certain. Her fingers thrum against the glass between sips.

For a moment, I turn away. There’s nothing more to see – or so I think.  Then I hear it. The buzz of a phone against the table. Something shifts. A heartbeat – sharp, fast, like the beating of a bird’s wings against its cramped cage. I look back just in time to see her spine go rigid. She’s up and out the door before I can blink. Curious.

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I flick my lighter – once, twice, three times – before a flame finally catches.  Fucking finally. If it took any longer I’d have thrown the damn thing across the street. I take a long drag and let the smoke fill my lungs. It’s almost enough to dull the ache in my chest. Almost. It’s always the same fucking thing. The voice on the other end – rough, apologetic, stuck on the same goddamn loop. Moved to New Orleans and it still follows me. I exhale sharply, watching the smoke curl up into the night. There’s something almost comforting about the way it fades away. Wish I could disappear that easily. How many times have I been here? Holding my breath, keeping the rage and disappointment behind my teeth?  Too fucking many. Another drag. I try to force my thoughts into the quiet. There’s nothing to be done – at least not tonight. I’m halfway through burning the cigarette down to the filter when a voice cuts through the stillness behind me “Not the best idea to leave a drink unattended,” he says, calm – almost amused – as he steps into view. The glass in his hand is extended toward me. “I thought you might want this back before it goes to waste.” Great. Richie Rich himself. I don’t know how long he’s been standing there. The sudden sound of his voice makes me jump, and I curse under my breath. “Jesus christ, do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?” My voice is taut as I turn to face him. His eyes seem to light up – a stark contrast to the rest of his sharp features. “Sorry, love. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but I swear I can see his mouth twitch. Asshole. I narrow my eyes, studying him. He only raises an eyebrow, gaze flicking to the drink in his hand. He gives it a small shake — a silent question, a not-so-subtle reminder. “Right,” I mutter, reaching for the glass. I take a long sip of my drink. His gaze is hot on my skin. Steady, unwavering; like he’s trying to dissect me. The silence is thick enough to choke on.

“Something bothering you?” His eyes drop down to the cigarette still burning in my hand and then back up to my face. “You seem… preoccupied.” I don’t answer right away. His words hang in the air like a bitter aftertaste.  Maybe it’s the way his gaze feels like it’s peeling something back, or maybe I just don’t feel like explaining myself to a stranger. “I’m fine,” I say at last, voice sharper than I mean it to be.  “Just enjoying a smoke.” The quiet stretches between us, his gaze still fixed on me. For a moment, it feels like he's just watching me breathe — measuring something.  I huff, drain the cigarette, and knock back the rest of my drink in one go. “Thanks,” I mutter, clipped, as I hand him the empty glass and turn away. I stalk off before he can say another word. I’m not about to let myself be held hostage by small talk.  But as I walk, the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. Is he still there? Watching me? I shoot a glance over my shoulder – just to check. The doorway’s empty. Okay. Post-waitressing paranoia. It’s late. I’m tired. And the temperature’s fucking subterranean. I tug my coat tighter and quicken my pace anyway.

You arrived alone at the ball at 7:15, hesitating before going in. You were meeting the others there, Elena had already arrived with the Salvatores and Caroline. With a long exhale, you walked inside the large mansion and took in your surroundings. Music was playing and there were people everywhere. You didn’t recognize most people, and soon realized that most of them were human. So a decent portion of the town was invited…

But did they all receive a note or dress? Probably not, but suddenly your importance seemed to lessen. You fiddled with your gloved fingers as you slowly entered further into the mansion, looking for a familiar face.

The first face you recognized, however, was none other than Klaus himself. You locked eyes from across the room, where he stood chatting up the mayor. His face fell into a more solemn expression when your eyes locked.

He left the mayor’s side and approached you, and you physically felt your stomach twist and your heart drop. He stopped less than three feet in front of you, just a couple inches taller than you in your heels and he smiled what may have been the first genuine smile you’ve seen thus far. “Good evening,” he greets you in a solemn, sincere voice. You open your mouth to respond, but words fail you.

“I… need a drink.” you mutter and hurry away. You feel embarrassed, wondering why you even came to this stupid ball in the first place.

The next fifteen minutes dragged on until everyone was gathered to the main room and the entire Mikaelson family stood over everyone on the stairs. You made eye contact with Klaus, who stood near Elijah as he spoke. He held a drink and looked serious, but his gaze was locked on you. Elijah asked that everyone find a partner and go to the ballroom, and you watched as Klaus downed his drink and headed right in your direction. Oh crap. You started walking toward the ballroom, hoping to observe and not participate, but Klaus catches you and stands in front of you.

“May I?” he asks, offering you his hand. You look at his large hand then back to his eyes, before giving in and nodding, hesitantly placing your smaller hand into his palm. He grins and begins guiding you into the ballroom. Something about holding Klaus’s hand and being led by him… felt both the most safe and most in danger you have ever felt. You felt like no one in this room could hurt you… but also knew that was because he was the most dangerous one in here.

The Ed Sheeran song began and he stood beside you, taking the lead in the waltz. Neither of you speak, but he is watching you as you dance. You follow his lead and then he spins you and you face him, placing your other hand on his right shoulder and he cups your smaller gloved right hand in his own.

Klaus continues to look into your eyes, his face only inches away now, and you feel small under his intense gaze. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to break his eye contact. His other hand is on your back, and you feel it slide a little lower from your shoulder blade to closer to your waist. The feeling of his fingers touching your body sends shivers down your spine, something you wonder if he felt.

“I’m glad you came,” he finally says something, and you look down toward your feet to cover the small smile that forms on your lips. You don’t respond, unsure of what to say. When you finally meet his eye again, he is smirking. He knows what he is doing. “You look ravishing in that dress.” Your stomach turns with anxiety at his compliment and word choice, a blush warming your cheeks.

“Thank you,” is all you say, once again being failed by your words.

“You know, you’re quite the dancer.” he remarks, and you are rather surprised. You didn’t feel like a very good dancer, it was not something you particularly enjoyed. But right now, dancing with him… This was enjoyable.

“Well, I was in the Miss Mystic pageant last year… Against my will.” you inform him, and he grins.

“I know.” You look up at him in surprise. How did he know that? Has he been asking people about you? Your eyes drop from his intense blue ones down to his full pink lips twisted upward in a grin. He is very blatantly flirting with you. Why?

The dance ended and he let go of you, but you looked at each other for a moment longer. “Come with me,” he says, and he starts guiding you out of the ballroom. He slowly leads you further away from the party and you grow anxious, both from fear and interest.

He opens a door and steps aside, holding it ajar for you. You hesitantly walk in, looking around. It is some kind of art room, full of paintings, drawings, sketches. “What is all this?” you ask, taking it all in.

“My collection. Or, a portion of it, at least.” He allows the door to close behind himself and you are now alone together. You swallow a gulp and focus your eyes on the painting hanging in front of you. You can feel his eyes on you, but don’t dare turn around to look. You notice how the sketches seem like they were done here, not a piece of a collection from another artist.

“Wait, are these yours?” you are stunned that he would have a hobby like this, given his reputation. He comes to stand by your side and nods, his face the most calm and serious you’ve seen.

“Yeah. Um, some of my landscapes are hanging in various places, not that anyone would notice.” he trails off, almost seeming vulnerable. This is the first thing he’s ever said to you that didn’t sound arrogant, and you could feel something in his demeanor that had shifted. You ducked your head to hide the shy smile that formed on your lips and continued scanning his work.

“These are incredible,” you mutter, really impressed. “Did you paint the one of New Orleans?” you ask, and he nods with his lips pursed, like he is a little unsure of himself.

After a short pause, you hear clinking glasses and it sounds like someone is about to give a speech. “Should probably get back,” you remark, and he opens the door for you. You shyly smile at him and walk out, then follow him back to the main area.

~~~

He went off to be with his family as Elijah toasted and everyone shared a drink. You tried to stop looking at him, or for him, to find something else to occupy your mind. You went over to grab a refreshment from one of the waiters and ended up beside Rebekah Mikaelson.

You’d seen her a few times before, but never really spoken to her. She looks over at you from where she stood, physically looks you up and down, but says nothing. You are intimidated by her immense beauty, and the dark green ball gown she is wearing makes her even more stunning than normal.

“I love your dress,” you finally say something after casually sipping on your champagne. She looks back to you, a look of surprise on her face. She looks like she is trying to read your mind, like she doesn’t believe you’re truly complimenting her.

“Thank you,” she finally responds after what felt like an eternity. “I like yours,” she exchanges the compliment, and you blush. You don’t dare mention who gave you the dress.

“Thank you. I don’t think I’ve ever worn anything this nice before.” you remark, chuckling. “I don’t feel myself,” she smiles and shrugs.

“It suits you,” is all she says, and you return the smile.

“Do you like this sort of thing? Balls?” you make small talk, finding yourself at ease in her company. She seems standoffish, which is better than the pick-me-girls you are usually surrounded by.

“I do. I always have. We used to attend so many, a few centuries ago, when they were common. I do miss that,” she explains. You are envious that she has lived through so many eras. You’d love to hear her stories.

“What was your favorite time period?” you ask, taking a step closer, intrigued. She seems pleased by your interest and takes a moment to think.

“They all had their good and bad, but I greatly appreciated the 20’s.” You could absolutely see her rocking out in the 20’s Great Gatsby style. “Excuse me, my brother is looking for me.” Rebekah leaves her glass with the waiter and heads over to Elijah.

You decide to head outside for some fresh air, feeling overwhelmed by all of the different emotions you have been feeling tonight. You take a side door and end up on a back patio of some sort, where a horse is settled in an enclosed area. You are immediately excited and cautiously walk over to the large animal. You pet its mane and take in its beauty, admiring the elegant stallion.

“You like horses?” A voice you now recognize as Klaus asks, and you turn to look over your shoulder, watching him walk over to you. You smile softly and nod, returning your gaze to the beautiful creature.

“Always have. They’re so majestic… intelligent. I’ve always wanted one.” You look over to see him smiling as he listens. “So why did you invite me anyway?” you finally get the courage to ask.

“I fancy you,” he responds very blatantly, without any hesitation. Your eyes go wide and you stare at him, waiting for him to laugh or do something to show that he was not serious. “Is that so hard to believe?” he asks when you say nothing. His expression is soft and solemn, he looks very genuine. “Yes,” is all you can muster up to respond.

“Why? You’re – you’re beautiful. You’re strong, you’re full of life…” he trails off. “I enjoy you,” he grins, but it is not his usual arrogant grin – this is confident, but sincere.

“I… thank you,” you stutter, tucking the loose hair behind your ear. He continues to grin at you for a long moment, making you anxious under his gaze.

He is intense, unlike anyone you have ever met before. He’s not a shy little boy who dances around his feelings or tries to play it cool. He’s honest, which caught you off guard, given his reputation for being merciless and cruel. Maybe this was one big joke? But what would be the point of that?

Neither of you speak for a minute or two, but it is not awkward. You enjoy the peace of the wind blowing in the trees and the sound of glasses and chattering off in the distance. 

“Ya know uh, horses are the opposite of people… They’re loyal,” he starts, chuckling in an ironic sort of way, before continuing. “My father hunted me for a thousand years and the closest he ever came was the day he killed my favorite horse… He severed its neck with a sword, as a warning,” he explained. You watched him speak as he looked at the horse, listening intently. He finally meets your eye again, searching your expression like he was trying to decipher what you were thinking.

“I’m sorry,” you say softly. His blue eyes look sorrowful. His father really did a number on him… Maybe he’s not so evil after all. Maybe he’s just… broken.

~~~

You called it a night shortly thereafter, growing exhausted from all of the overwhelming emotions of the evening. You said a polite goodbye to Klaus before you left and thanked Elijah, then Matt drove you home. You made small talk about the evening, trying to leave out the parts that included Klaus and you noticed he tried not to mention how he was Rebekah’s date.

You let it be, respecting his privacy as he did yours. You practically threw yourself into your bed after getting out of your gown. You were emotionally exhausted, and the heels you wore didn’t help with your physical exhaustion. Curling up into your blankets, your mind wandered, replaying the events of the evening.

But no matter how hard you tried, the only thing you could really think about was Klaus. The way you danced together, how his hand felt on your back. What he told you about his father… Why was he so different with you than everyone else? Elena and her friends hated him, but you couldn’t really see why. Of course, you know that he tried to kill her and that he did kill her aunt. Yes, those were horrible and unforgivable. But you’d never know he was like that based on how he has been interacting with you.

–

You awoke the next morning to the sound of a knock at your front door. You trudged out of bed and rushed to get it, but no one was there. All you found was a folded piece of paper. Another invitation? You took it inside and went back to bed before unfolding it. A gasp escapes your lips as you stare at the beautiful sketch of yourself standing beside the horse from last night. The sketch was amazing, it looked just like you. There was nothing written on either side, but you knew exactly who this was from. This was the most romantic thing anyone had ever done for you, by far.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you wondered what this meant. You envisioned Klaus sitting in his drawing room, sketching the details of your face with the intent of surprising you. Butterflies soared through your stomach against your will, feeling yourself swooning over the gesture.

It was official now, there was no denying it.

You have feelings for Klaus.

And from the looks of it… It's mutual.

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You felt your neck and ears heat up at this new information. Why would he be asking about you? What did he want? Why were you suddenly on is radar when he barely seemed to note your presence before?

Now you felt all eyes on you. "What do you mean?"

"Does he want Y/n to perform a spell for him or something?" Caroline asked.

"That's not the kind of interest he seemed to be showing." Damon said as he sat down. "He's been asking personal questions."

Your face only grew hotter at this, and you looked between Caroline, Bonnie and Elena, who stared at you in surprise.

"I think the big bad hybrid has a crush." Damon said in an almost sing-song voice.

"That's ridiculous." You said as you turned your attention back to the grimoire, trying to play this new information off as uninteresting. "He is probably just trying to weasel his way into getting me to do something for him."

"Yeah, something alright." Caroline teased.

Grabbing a nearby pencil, you threw it at her. "Not funny" you tried to sound serious, but it was hard to hide the smile playing at your lips.

After you were bombarded by an array of comments and questions, you decided to leave the mansion. You needed to clear your thoughts.

When Klaus first arrived in Mystic Falls, he was the enemy. But over the last few years, and after some unusual events, he was a frenemy of sorts. Not all bad, not all good. He caused trouble, but also helped when there was danger in the town. You weren't truly sure what to think of him, but you knew one thing for sure. The Hybrid interested you.

Niklaus Mikaelson was charming, and could be kind if he wanted to, though it was often over-looked by the troublesome and dangerous sides. He was strong, powerful, and attractive. He made you nervous is a variety of different ways, and you hated it. But one consolation was the thought that he didn't really know much about you, or seemed to care.

But now, he was asking about you. Every time you thought about it, you felt your chest tighten and your stomach twist. Your heart would beat faster, your face would burn hotter. Why would he notice you all of a sudden? Did he really just want to use you in some way?

The last time you were around each other, he did learn you were not just a vampire but a heretic. And he saw how powerful you could be. Maybe he wanted to use it now.

If that was what he wanted, you weren't just going to turn over for him. No matter how much he flattered, or charmed you. You knew he could be dangerous, and no matter if you had a crush on him or not, you would not let him use you.

- - - - -

Looking down at the flyer, you read it over once more before setting aside and looking up at Matt. "You'd think everyone would be tired of festivals and balls by now, we seem to have one every week."

Matt smirked "Yeah tell me about it. I get tired of having to work at all of them, sometimes the pay isn't even worth it. But, this is Mystic Fall's Summer Solstice Ball, so obviously I have to go. Are you?"

You rolled your eyes, amused. "I would say no, I'm not. But no doubt I will be dragged out by Caroline. She's determined to go to every party, festival and ball she can this summer before returning to the college."

"Well Caroline does love a party." Matt commented before he turned to attend another customer.

You smiled as you looked down at your phone. Suddenly, you felt a chill run up your neck, as an overwhelming feeling of being watched washed over you. Slowly looking up, your eyes locked on a pair of blue eyes over Matt's shoulder. As Matt moved out of view, you saw the full view of Klaus' as he continued to stare at you.

You felt a shiver run trough your whole body as your heart picked up speed. You knew he noticed this, as a smirk slowly crossed his face. Watching as he slowly lifted his hand, and waved at you, you felt almost unable to look away.

Watching as he slid out of his seat, you knew he was coming over to you. You took a deep breath and tried to steady your nerves. You met Matt's gaze for a moment and you saw him furrow his brow as you felt someone sit on the stool beside you.

Clutching at what courage you had, you straightened up and looked over at Klaus, holding his gaze. "Niklaus." You greeted.

He smiled and spoke with a low and steady voice. "Y/n."

You felt goosebumps rise up your arms as he said your name. You tried to sound disinterested as you spoke "Can I help you with something?"

"Oh, I'm sure you could help me with many things. But, I am not here to ask for a favor."

You studied him for a moment, as you tried to decide if he was lying, He stared at you, patiently waiting, as though he knew what you were doing.

"Damon said you were asking about me, forgive me for assuming that means you wanted something out of me."

He smirked again, something he seemed to do more often than not. "I was simply asking questions out of curiosity, and interest."

"Interest in what?"

My magic? My ancestry?

"You." The response was simple, and spoken as though it answered every other question you might have. But it didn't.

"Why." Not a question of curiosity, but a demand to know what he wanted from you.

"Can't I just be interested in wanting to know you?" He mused.

"Well, you tend to have a bad reputation of using my friends, so forgive me for not believing that's all this is."

"And I understand your caution entirely, but tell me, what can I do to convince you I have no intention of abusing your power for my own means."

"Stop causing unnecessary trouble for me and my friends and almost getting us killed would be a good start."

He lifted his hands up "Have you seen any trouble in recent weeks or am I correct in stating it's been rather quiet around here recently?"

"Well there was that incident at your families home last week."

You saw his eyes almost twinkle. "Yes. That. Well, though I can promise I know how to behave when it's necessary, I cannot promise that the behavior of my siblings."

You shrugged your head a bit, in a small amount of understanding. "I suppose I can't hold that against you."

Klaus slowly reached over and pulled the flyer for the solstice ball towards him. He hummed to himself "So this is the ball my sister has been incessantly talking about. Going?" He asked while looking up at you.

Looking from the flyer to his eyes, you could see in his eyes that he already knew the answer. "So we're not going to pretend you weren't listening to mine and Matt's conversation earlier then?"

His lips slowly curled into a wide smile as he tapped his fingers on the flyer. "What can I say, I love listening to you talk."

You rolled your eyes, swallowing down the lump in our throat as you hoped the heat you could feel in your cheeks was not visible.

Klaus kept his gaze on your face as he lowered his voice "I do hope you decide to attend."

"Why? I hope you're not planning to cause trouble."

Lifting his hand and placing it on his chest, he gave you a puppy-eyed look "Cross my heart." His face became amused as he leaned in a little closer to you. "No, love, I simply wish to have the chance to dance with you."

Meeting his gaze, you tried to see through him. Looking for a look of mischief, deceit, but all you found was an earnest and somewhat flirtatious gaze.

"What if I can't dance?"

"I'll teach you." He retorted quickly.

Unable to stop it, you let out a soft laugh, not missing the way his eyes lit up when you did.

"You don't give up easily do you?"

"I don't give up at all."

"Funny, you don't seem the patient type."

Klaus lowered his voice and leaned in, as though he was going to tell you a secret. "The best things in life Y/n, are worth waiting for. And I think you, love, are something I would wait a very long time for."

You countered his lowered tone and gaze. "What makes you think you wont be waiting forever?"

His lips curled a little, and you saw his eyes dart to your lips, before he met your gaze again. "Because I can hear the way your heart beats when I'm near you. And I know it's not out of fear. It beats like that, only for the thing it wants."

"Don't think you know what my heart wants."

"But I do know. And I know because if my heart were still beating, it would be beating the same way, for you."

Silence lingered between you as you stared into each others eyes. Another moment passed before Klaus reached over and took your hand. You jolted slightly at the sudden contact.

Bringing your hand up to his face, Klaus pressed a slow and delicate kiss to your hand, while keeping his eyes locked with yours.

Letting go, he stood from his stool "I assure you, Y/n, I am a very patient man." Leaning down, he brought his lips to your ear. "But I don't think I'll be waiting long at all."

You felt his presence vanish as he left the bar, and left you with a racing heart and mind.

"What the hell was that?"

Matt's voice broke you from your thoughts. You met his eyes and shook your head, before lying "I have no idea."

Turning, you looked at the door, thinking back on all he said. You knew it was bad idea, but maybe, just maybe, you would go to the ball after all.

Niklaus had an...unusual relationship. For the hybrid, at least. Seen as the big bad wolf, the king of terror, the deadly hybrid- seeing him act the way he does around his girlfriend is sure to throw anyone who knows him off. Whether they know him well or just met him recently, it was a shocker for sure.

Although people found them adorable, he personally thought the relationship was mildly frustrating at times. He wasn’t interested in her “childish games”. So he claimed.

“Y/n?” He called sweetly. He hesitated before calling again, and again, and again, until the sickly sweet tone of his voice had run out of it’s sugary goods. Klaus’ yell was familiar but not to the person he’d directed it at. “Y/n!”

“Yeesh, I heard you the first time! I’m coming!” She was by his side quick, and by the teasing smirk on her face, she definitely really had heard him the first time.

“I need you to do something for me.”

“Like what?”

“Well, I’ll be busy. I need some things from the market.” He sighed when her wide eyes caught his disinterested ones. “And you can buy some stuff for yourself. Rebekah too. She’ll be going with you.”

Y/n turned towards Rebekah and winked before turning back towards Nik with a sudden lack of energy and enthusiasm. “B- I- But- b-but do I have to? It’s so far away and there’s like-” she checked the clock, “ten hours left of daylight.” Her drawl was well acted but didn’t phase Niklaus. He’d grown rather used to it.

“And?”

She scanned her brain for further arguments against her boyfriend’s plea, smiling as one popped right on time. “Fine. I’ll- We’ll go.”

“Thank you!” His tone was far too...thankful for her leave for her liking. Perhaps pulling this wouldn’t be as hard as she originally thought it’d be. Walking towards him to say goodbye raised his hopes, hopefully, but when she reached for his wallet and called after Rebekah as she walked to the front doors, Niklaus growled. His eyes narrowed and he cursed under his breath.

It was on.

When they returned, he decided to get Y/n back, pressing a surprise kiss on her cheek. “Welcome bac-” His plan backfired as she glared at him and brought her hand up. “Don’t. Don’t you dare, Y/n.”

“Try me.” She wiped her hand harshly on her cheek. Right where he’d kissed her. A growl emitted from his throat. It was time he initiated plan b. Unfortunately, a kiss on the lips was no different to her cheek. Aside from one very bold change in her attitude. She screamed and wiped it off with an desperateness that made his semi-undead heart ache.

Klaus began to storm off and passed his sister, who was in a fit of laughter on account of being a witness to the scene that took place in the entry way. Her chortles were brisk to fade, though, and the hurt radiating from her brother sunk in. “Nik! Nik- calm down! She’s just messing around.”

“Yeah, it’s just a joke!” They waited for his response, but nothing came save for silence. “Awh, come on, Nik! Learn how to take a joke instead of giving them every once in awhile!” The silence was more harsh than his glare. “You’re no fun.”

“And you’re wet.”

“What?” Y/n and Rebekah swapped glances of confusion before looking around for the voice. Klaus’ voice. Their surroundings were the same as they were mere seconds ago. Left, nothing. Right, nothing. Behind them, still, nothing. There hadn’t been any changes in front of them either. They looked up, but not on time.

“I thought you were going to die!”

You shook your head. “I’m already dead, Damon. I’m a vampire. Elena is still alive, she’s got her whole life in front of her, and you almost let her die.”

“I didn’t though!”

“No,” You finally turn, the tears running down your face. “You made the choice to take a chance, and I just can’t live like that, wondering if you’re going to let her die for me. I can’t.”

“So next time I’ll be better. Don’t go.” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest and just like you were afraid they would, his blue eyes drew you into their depths and left you drowning in the riptide.

“I can’t.” You whimper, your voice breaking, and he leans his head down against your forehead, glancing his lips over your cheek as he speaks.

“Please. One more chance.”

“It’s always one more chance, Damon.” You close your eyes as the tears start to pour out, and you bite your lip to hold back a sob that still manages to break free.

“Please.”

His lips brush yours, his breath a ghost of memory, of every perfect kiss and whispered promise.

Your silence presses in on you both as he waits for your answer. You aren’t sure what you’re going to say yourself until a soft noise passes between your lips, barely a word, nearly soundless.

“Okay.”

He doesn’t kiss you. You’re glad he doesn’t because you don’t want him to taste the salt on your lips from the tears.

“Thank you.” His nose brushes yours and your tear falls onto him. You let your arms circle his shoulders and he pulls you into a hug, pressing your tear streaked face against his chest. The soft tee-shirt is so familiar, so comfortable, and despite yourself, you lean into it. He picks you up, wraps your legs around his waist so he can vamp speed you both to the couch. He sits down with you in his lap and lets you hold him, hang onto him like some tragic, paralyzed koala.

Your fingers claw at his shoulders and clutch him to you.

You aren’t sure how long you sit there, holding him, crying. He kisses your temple and rubs your back and lets you take a minute to collect yourself.

“I love you.” It’s not the first time he’s said it, but he doesn’t say it often, so  you treasure the sound. “I’m sorry. I’m trying, and I’m going to keep trying. Just don’t give up on me yet.”

A new wave of tears comes and you hide your face in his shoulder, letting his shirt soak them up. You aren’t sure how long this truce will last. Maybe a week, maybe another year, but you don’t want to think about it right now. You pull away, eyes still red and glassy with tears, and look him in the eyes.

“Kiss me.” You whisper, and he does, a soft brush of his plush lips against yours, feather light and warm. He kisses you again, longer, harder, and you rock forward, tilting his head up to reach you. “Take me to bed.”

He obliges you, like he always does, and the sex doesn’t fix anything, but it lets you feel close to each other, connects you again the way nothing else ever has. It’s temporary, even as you lay sweaty and sated in each other’s arms.

You let him kiss you, kiss him back, let him tell you things will be different, but you don’t believe him, not deep down.

You let him whisper “I love you,” again, and you parrot him. It’s not a lie, not really, but it doesn’t feel like the truth.