#vampire!reader

The fluorescent lights of the SDN office hummed their usual monotonous tune, but you'd learned to tune them out after working here for far too long. What you couldn't ignore was the way Robert Robertson's heartbeat quickened every time you walked past his cubicle. It was a steady thrum that called to something primal in your undead veins.

"You know, most people use the door," Robert said without looking up from his screen, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "But I guess when you're a vampire, walls are more like suggestions."

You leaned against his desk, close enough that your hip brushed his arm. His warmth radiated through the thin fabric of his shirt, a stark contrast to your perpetual chill. "I did use the door. You were simply too focused on whatever it is you are... hacking? Is that the correct term? Into to notice."

"I'm not hacking. I'm... creatively accessing information." He finally glanced up, and those tired eyes that always somehow flickering with determination, met yours. A smirk played at the corner of his mouth. "And I always notice when you're around. Your presence has a certain... bite to it."

"Wonderful. Vampire puns. That is what we are doing this evening?"

"I've got a million of them. What can I say? I'm a sucker for wordplay." He spun his chair to face you fully, and suddenly the space between you felt charged. "See what I did there?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't suppress your smile. This had become your routine over the past few weeks. As someone who was unfortunately allergic to the damn sun, you had no choice but to work nights. Robert, on the other hand, was very much human and very much choosing to be here, and the banter between the two of you had only continued to escalate as the nights went on.

"Your puns are dreadful," you sighed, reaching past him to collect the incident report from his desk. The movement brought you closer, your arm brushing his shoulder. You felt him tense, heard his breath catch. "But I suppose someone must keep you company while you brood over your... keyboard."

"I don't brood. Brooding is for vampires and Batman." He caught your wrist gently as you pulled back, his thumb resting against your pulse point.. or rather, where your pulse would be if you had one. His touch was warm, almost burning against your deathly cool skin. "I strategically contemplate."

"Is that what we are calling it?" You didn't pull away, neither did he.

For a moment, you both stayed frozen like that, his hand wrapped around your wrist, his eyes searching yours. You could hear everything — the rush of blood through his veins, the steady rhythm of his heart, the slight hitch in his breathing. It would be so easy to close the distance between you, to find out if his lips were as warm as the rest of him.

"Robertson, we've got a lost dog situation on the east side-.." The voice crackled over the communication system, shattering the moment. Robert's hand dropped from your wrist as he spun back to his console, his professional mask sliding into place.

"Copy that. This one's for you Prism, have fun." His fingers danced across the keyboard, pulling up camera feeds and tactical information. "Ooookay, so Golem, Flambae you're joining her because someone called in that this is actually a dog fighting ring run by some Red Ring assholes." This was where he shined — even without his mech suit, even without the Mecha Man persona, he was still brilliant at this.

You moved behind his chair, under the guise of getting a better look at the screens, though in all honesty you found the glowing displays beyond interesting. All these moving images and symbols, it was nothing like the simple exchanges you'd grown accustomed to in your all your years. "Are you thinking about suiting up?"

"I don't have a suit to put on anymore. Remember?" His voice carried that familiar edge of bitterness that came when an emotion was still raw. "I'm just the guy behind the desk now. The washed up hero playing in the office."

"You are the man who is coordinating a team of heroes that, likely, save a dozen lives this evening." You squeezed his shoulder, feeling the warmth of him seep into your palm. "And you are doing it better than anyone else here could."

He reached up, his hand hesitating above yours before giving it a few friendly and restrained pats. "You know, for a soulless creature of the night, you're surprisingly good at pep talks."

"Who says I am soulless? That is merely propaganda from the vampire hunters'." You leaned down, your lips close to his ear. Close enough that you knew he could feel the whisper of your breath, which was truthfully a useless habit, but one you'd never broken. "Besides, Chase showed me your... browser history? I believe that is what he called it. You are not exactly in a position to judge anyone's soul."

"That was one time, and I was researching-.." He turned his head to protest, and suddenly your faces were inches apart. You could see the flecks of gold in his eyes, the faint stubble on his jaw, the way his pupils dilated as he looked at you. His heart was racing now, a steady beat that made your eyes widen and fixate on him. "I was doing legitimate research on vampire mythology."

"Certainly you were." Your voice came out lower, flirtier than you intended. "And I am quite certain that vampire procreation was purely academic research."

"Maybe I wanted to know more about you." His admission was quiet, vulnerable in a way that Robert Robertson rarely allowed himself to be. "Maybe I wanted to understand what it's like. Being what you are. Living in the night, and watching everyone else age while you stay the same."

The honesty in his voice made something in your chest tighten, an echo of the heart that could no longer beat. "It is lonely," you admitted. "Most of the time, it is profoundly lonely. People either fear you or fetishize you. They do not see you as simply... you. I have watched empires rise and fall, seen wars that reshaped the world, and yet the isolation remains my one constant."

"I see you." His hand came up, retracted, then came returned to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. The touch was gentle, restrained, and so warm it almost hurt. "I see someone who brings perfectly lukewarm coffee. Someone who laughs at my terrible jokes, thank you for that one by the way. Someone who's been around for decades but still gets excited about-... wait, what do you even watch? I've never actually seen you watch TV."

You couldn't help but laugh. "I confess, I find most modern entertainment rather perplexing. All these programs about people seeking companionship through elaborate competitions — it seems rather undignified compared to a proper courtship. Though I admit, it is fascinating in its absurdity."

"You're talking about Love Island, aren't you? You've been watching Love Island." His grin was delighted. "Wow... you're like three hundred years old and you're hooked on reality TV."

"I am not 'hooked.' I am merely... observing modern mating rituals." You tried to sound dignified, but his laughter was infectious. "And I am considerably older than three hundred, I will have you know."

"I like that about you." His thumb moved to trace your lower lip, and you saw his gaze drop to your mouth. "I like that you're this ancient, powerful lady who still can't figure out how to work the coffee maker without pressing every button and hoping for the best."

"That machine is unnecessarily complicated," you protested, eyebrows furrowed and your lips pulling into a slight frown. "In my day, one simply heated water over a fire. These 'settings' and 'programs' are utterly unnecessary-.."

"I know. I know all the reasons this is a bad idea." His voice was rough, strained, cutting through your complaint. It made you stop instantly though, your eyes searching his face in a way that was almost hopeful.

"You're immortal. I'm human. You drink blood. I'm made of blood. You're going to watch me grow old and die while you stay young and beautiful. The logistics are a fucking nightmare."

"Do not forget the part where I could accidentally kill you if I lose control." You tried to inject some levity into your voice, but it came out shaky. "That is rather a significant concern."

"Yeah, but you won't." His certainty was absolute, and only solidified by the grin that appeared lazily on his face. "You've had plenty of opportunities. That time I got injured in the field and was bleeding all over the place? That was like my second day here and I was sure I was a goner. Or when we worked that double shift and I fell asleep at my desk. You could have done anything, but you just threw a blanket over me and kept working."

"You appeared cold," you murmured, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth causing the points of your fangs to poke out ever so slightly.

"I was cold. You fixed it." He pulled you closer, guiding you around the chair until you were standing between his legs, his hands settling on your hips. "You're always fixing things. Making things better. You act like you're this dangerous creature, but you're the most careful person I know."

"I must be careful. The alternative is-..."

"I know. I get it." His hands slid up your sides, leaving trails of heat against you. "But maybe you can stop being careful for just a minute. Maybe we both can."

Your hands found his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your palms. It would be so easy to kiss him but the fear held you back. You couldn't help the fear of hurting him, of losing control, of starting something that could only end in pain. You had loved before, centuries ago, and watched them all turn to dust while you stayed the same.

"I am frightened," you admitted in a whisper that came out much shakier than you had anticipated.

"Yeah. Me too." He breathed out with a chuckle that wasn't as humorous as most people's laughs were. "But I'm also tired of pretending I don't feel this. Whatever this is."

"This is dangerous."

"I used to pilot a giant mech suit into combat against supervillains. Danger is kind of my thing." His smile was crooked and self deprecating. "Or it was, anyway. Now I'm just a guy who's falling for a vampire and has absolutely no fucking idea what he's doing."

"Falling?" Your voice cracked on the word.

"Yeah. Falling. Plummeting, really. It's a whole thing." His hands tightened on your hips. "So what do you say? Want to catch me?"

You looked at him, really looked at him. At the hope and fear that were both fighting in his eyes, at the vulnerability he was offering you, at the warmth and life and humanity that radiated from him. You thought about all the lonely years, all the people who'd come and gone, all the times you'd kept yourself away from the world to keep yourself from getting hurt or hurting someone else again. You thought of gaslit streets and horse drawn carriages, of wars fought with muskets and swords, of all the centuries you'd lived... alone.

And then you thought about lukewarm coffee and terrible puns and the way he always made sure you had the comfortable chair during long shifts. You thought about how he'd never once looked at you with fear, only with curiosity and respect and, lately, with something that made your dead heart feel almost alive again. How he patiently explained the purpose of each button on that damn coffee machine, how he'd helped you understand what "streaming" meant, how he'd laughed, and not unkindly, when you'd asked if the "web" was something spiders had created.

"Your timing is dreadful," you sighed, your lips quirking into a smile. "We are in the middle of a shift. There is active symbols appearing on the screen as well."

"I know." He was smiling too, that crooked grin that made him look younger and less burdened. "Soooo.. is that a no?"

You slid your hands up his chest, over his shoulders, until your fingers tangled in his hair. "That is a 'we shall discuss this properly when we are off duty.'"

"But?" He leaned into your touch, his eyes never leaving yours.

"But perhaps just one-.."

The communication system crackled to life again, louder this time. "You realize the mic has been on the whole time right, Bobby?"

You both froze, your eyes wide and full of embarrassment, Robert on the other hand just groaned, "You're fucking joking."

"No, we heard the whole thing dude." Sonar's voice piped up again. As Robert pressed one of the speakers to his ear he could hear the laughing of the others.

"You realize she is like.. centuries old right?" Malevola asked, the amusement present in her voice.

"Good on ya, Robby. Never took ya as the vampire type." Punch Up barked out a laugh and then suddenly, all of it went quiet when Robert hit a button on the keyboard and turned his attention back to you with a beyond tired look.

"I suppose you are required by your team again," A small, sheepish smile tugged at the corner of your darkly painted lips.

"Unfortunately."

You hummed, your fingers sliding out of his hair oh so slowly, hesitating over his shoulders. "When this shift concludes, you will take me to dinner. Well, you shall have dinner. I shall simply observe in what you assure me is not a creepy manner whatsoever."

His laugh was warm and genuine. "It's a date. Fair warning though — I'm going to order something with a lot of garlic just to see what happens."

"I despise you."

"No, you don't." He was already turning back to his console, but the smile on his face was incandescent. "You're falling too. Admit it."

You didn't answer, but as you walked away to handle your own work, carefully avoiding the blinking devices you still didn't quite understand, but you couldn't stop smiling.

← BACK. ᝰ.ᐟ edawgz 2025.

———————

Present Day

Mystic Falls

It had been one hundred and forty-six years since you had seen your brothers. Actually, it had been one hundred and forty-six years since they had seen you. You kept tabs on them over the years, always so close but not close enough for them to find you. As far as your brothers were concerned, you were dead and technically you were.

In truth, you didn’t want to see them but you had to. You had to for him.

So here you were, driving past the Mystic Falls welcome sign. Your jaw clenches at the sight of it, you hadn’t been here since 1864. Every fiber of your being was screaming at you to turn around, that you didn’t want to be back here, that it was going to hurt you. You shoved the feeling away and continued driving until you reached your destination.

The old Salvatore Boarding House, your old home.

You take a deep breath before walking up to the door. It’s wide open and you can hear Stefan and Damon arguing inside. Your best guess is Stefan tried to walk away from Damon by slamming the door on him and all it did was make Damon angrier and he flung it open.

You followed the yelling to the living room, they were so caught up in their argument that they hadn’t noticed you leaning on the door frame.

“I see you two still fight like cats and dogs… I’m sure this is about some silly girl,” you finally speak up, announcing your presence.

They both immediately stop and look at you.

“Who the hell are you?” Damon asks instantaneously and you couldn’t blame him, the last time he saw you, you were just a kid.

You pout, placing a hand over your heart, “that hurts Damon.”

Letting out a dramatic sigh you place your hands on your hips, “I guess that’s fair though… I mean, it has been a really long time, one hundred and forty-six years in fact and I was just a little kid then.”

“I was about this tall…” you gesture with your hand then gasp, bringing your hand to your mouth, “And the last time we spoke was in this house, in this room!”

Stefan’s eyes widened a bit, his face becoming one of shock and realization, “Y/N?” he whispers.

You smirk and Damon scoffs, “That's not possible, our sister is dead.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that, though, I believe the proper term is undead—“

You’re cut off by Damon rushing at you, slamming you into the wall, and holding you up by your throat.

“Damon.” Stefan warns.

“This isn’t Y/N, Stefan! It can’t be! This is some sick imposter! I don’t know how they found out… but Y/N… she’s been dead for over a hundred years!”

You knee him in the stomach, causing him to double over and drop you, “Undead.”

Damon grunts, stumbling back but he quickly recovers, “Okay, let’s say you are our sister… Why now, huh?! Why find us now, after a hundred some years?!” he shouts.

You scoff, standing up straight, “Because I saw you both die! I saw father shoot you both dead! You remember that night right? The night you both tried to save Katherine? The night you were turned?”

You paused for a moment, directing your next words to Damon, “The night you told me I wasn’t your sister anymore.”

You knew being back here would be hard, you knew it would hurt. What you didn’t expect was for Damon to seemingly forget everything that happened in 1864. He looked away from you causing you to scoff.

“That woman ruined our family the moment she stepped foot in Mystic Falls.”

1864

Mystic Falls

You stood next to Stefan, rocking back and forth on your heels as you watched the carriage approach.

Your father had told you that a woman was coming to stay with you all, a woman named Katherine Pierce. You were excited for her arrival, you loved Stefan, Damon, and occasionally your father but you were ecstatic to have another girl around.

The carriage opened and two women got out, you followed Stefan down the stairs, standing right next to him.

“You must be Miss Pierce,” your brother says with his hands still behind his back.

Miss Pierce smirks, “Please,” she reaches her hand out for him to take, which he does, “Call me Katherine.”

They stare at each other for a moment, seemingly having a silent conversation before you interrupt, “Hello!”

Katherine seems taken aback by the sudden voice but puts on a smile, “And who might you be?”

“Y/N!”

Stefan chuckles and places his hand onto your shoulder, “This is my little sister, father jokes that she’s my shadow,” your brother teases, “She’d be following Damon around as well but he’s off at war.”

You frown at the mention of your other brother, not noticing the way Katherine’s gaze hardens.

Katherine would grow close with Stefan over the next weeks and unfortunately for you, she made it abundantly clear that she didn’t like you. You couldn’t figure out why but Stefan continually reassured you that Katherine had no problems with you so you tried to let it go.

Then after some time, Damon returned home and you were overjoyed. You had always been close with your brothers, they were practically your only friends. You had been lonely since Katherine had arrived due to Stefan’s infatuation, you hoped now that Damon was back you wouldn’t be so lonely.

“Damon!” you cheered upon seeing him, “Day! You’re back!”

He chuckles, “That I am!”

You rush to hug him which he quickly reciprocates, patting your head. But his gaze focused elsewhere.

“Who is she?” he points.

You turn to see who he’s looking at and sigh, “That is Miss Katherine Pierce, she’s been staying with us for some time now.”

You beckon Damon to lean down so you could whisper in his ear, “I think Stefan may be in love with her.”

Your eldest brother raises a brow and stands up straight, “Hm? Well… I suppose I should introduce myself to our guest…”

Just like that, Damon was infatuated as well. It was as if Katherine was a siren and both your brothers had been tricked by her song.

You watched Katherine as she led on both your brothers, knowing that at least one of them would be getting a broken heart. Though, you had a feeling they’d both end up heartbroken.

The one event that really broke you was when both your brothers were nowhere to be seen on your birthday, and when you did find them it was like they had no idea what the day was.

You hated Katherine, but you weren’t scared of her. Until you saw her true face.

You knew what she was, a vampire. Your father had told you stories about vampires, they’re evil monsters. He told you if you ever even heard whispers of a vampire that you had to tell him and he’d take care of it.

So you told him and he came up with a plan that you would enact within the week.

“What is that delicious smell?” Damon asks as he walks into the kitchen.

You let out a little laugh, “I baked cookies! Would you like one?”

“I’d love one,” Damon takes one of the cookies from the tray, patting your head as he did.

The first step of the plan was complete, now all you had to do was sit back and wait.

It wouldn’t take long for Katherine to come back to the boarding house with Stefan, he goes and sits on the couch while Katherine begins to go upstairs. She turns to give Damon a look and he immediately rushes to follow her up the stairs.

Moments later there’s a scream, followed by shouting from your father, Damon, and some men you don’t know. Stefan is off the couch quickly and at the steps immediately.

Multiple men are dragging Katherine down the stairs while Damon yells at your father. Stefan stands in shock as you reach his side. Katherine is taken out of the house by the men and put into a guarded carriage. Your father holds Damon to the wall as the carriage leaves your home, finally, his eyes land on you and he lets go of Damon, rushing to you, he places a kiss on your head.

“You were right, my dear. You did good.”

With that, he rushes out the door to the carriage, leaving you alone with your brothers.

Stefan’s voice is quiet, “You know what she is…”

“And you told father!” Damon shouts.

“She’s a monster Damon!” you yell.

He scoffs, “You don’t know what you’re talking about! You’re ten! A child!”

Your frown, “My birthday was a month ago Damon… I’m eleven… or have you forgotten?”

“It doesn’t matter! How you could be so cruel… I don't understand… I don’t recognize you… you’re no sister of mine. Not anymore.”

“Damon!” Stefan yells.

Damon shakes his head, shoving past you to the door, “Let’s go Stefan! If we’re quick we can save her!”

And just like that, they rush out of the house without sparring you a second glance. They didn’t know it at the time, but moments later you would run out of the house after them.

Present Day

Mystic Falls

“I never went back home… it wouldn’t be home if you were both dead... So I ran and ran and didn’t look back… I travelled all over… never staying in one place for too long.”

Stefan steps forward and pulls you into a tight hug and you allow him too. It had been a century since you had hugged anyone, you almost forgot how to. He pulls away to get a better look at your face, how you’ve grown since he last saw you.

“How old are you? Physically?”

“It’s rude to ask a woman’s age, Stef…” you giggle before giving an actual answer, “Nineteen, I was turned in 1872… which I guess makes me your big sister.”

He chuckles, “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

Damon crosses his arms, “How’d you turn?”

“Willingly, if that’s what you’re asking… my boyfriend at the time turned me, we wanted to spend forever together.”

“Ironic, sounds a lot like my story with Katherine.”

You furrow your brows, “What are you trying to say?”

“I’m saying, you’re a hypocrite.”

You scoff and Damon takes that as his signal to continue, “Where is this boyfriend of yours now?”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “He’s gone.”

“Gone?”

“Dead.” you lie.

“I’m sorry Y/N,” Stefan smiles softly, placing a hand on your shoulder.

Suddenly, the floorboards creak causing all of you to look at the sound. There she stood, Elena Gilbert.

“Oh… I’m sorry I didn’t realize you had company…” She clears her throat, “Uh… Stefan, you called me?”

Thinking quickly, you speed away from Stefan and slam the girl into the wall. You weren’t dumb, you knew who she was and you knew she wasn’t Katherine but your brothers didn’t know that you knew. Everything would be fine as long as you didn’t kill her, he wouldn’t mind if she was roughed up a bit.

“You keep the bitch around?! After everything?!”

Stefan and Damon sped to your side, Damon ripping you away from her.

You scoff, “You still protect her!”

“This isn’t Katherine,” Stefan says before pulling Elena to him, the girl holding her throat.

“Looks exactly like her!”

Damon rolls his eyes, pulling you farther away, “We know. We have eyes. It’s weird, some weird, freaky nature thing but she’s not Katherine. Smell her, she’s human.”

You turn your attention to Stefan and Elena who are both looking at you, waiting for your next move. Stefan is ready to jump in front of Elena to save her, you almost roll your eyes but resist, this would be like 1864 all over again.

You walk over to them, slowly, tilting your head at Elena.

“I’m Elena…Elena Gilbert.”

You give her a half smile, “Y/N. Sorry.”

You hold out your hand for her to take, which she does after looking at Stefan to make sure you were safe.

“This happens a lot, you’d be surprised…”

“No, I wouldn’t be. Katherine’s a bitch. A lot of people want her dead,” you pause, “Consider getting a tattoo on your forehead,” you brush your pointer finger and thumb across your forehead, “‘Not Katherine’.”

Elena giggles, “In size forty font.”

You crack a smile, she seemed sweet, you almost felt bad about what was going to happen, almost.

“You’re a friend of Stefan and Damon’s?”

“I’m their sister,” you smirk, chuckling at the shocked expression on her face.

“Our sister who we thought was dead up until about five minutes ago,” Damon adds, still suspicious of you.

“I didn’t know you were alive either until I heard rumors from some vampires that fled from here…” another lie.

Stefan and Damon share a look and you look between them, “What?” You ask.

“The tomb vampires.”

Stefan pats your back, “C’mon, we got a lot of catching up to do.”

“Well, this is lovely but are we going to discuss what we’re here for?” A new voice cuts in, she looks familiar but you can’t quite place her.

Elena on the other hand looks terrified, “You…”

“Like he said, a lot of catching up to do,” the woman smiles.

You all sat down in the living room while the woman who you learned to be Rose began to pace back and forth while speaking, “Okay, you have to understand, I only know what I’ve picked up over the years- and I don’t know what’s true and what’s not. That’s the problem with all this vampire crap but Klaus I know is real.”

You keep your expression neutral, you had been told the story of Katerina Petrova, Katherine Pierce as you knew her and how she escaped her death by Klaus and Elijah both. That’s why this woman was familiar, she had played a role in the escape.

“Who is he?” Elena asks.

Damon speaks up, “He’s one of the originals. He’s a legend,” he widens his eyes for dramatic flair.

”From the first generation of vampires,” Stefan gestures with his glass.

“Like Elijah?”

Rose sighs, dropping her shoulders, “No, Elijah is the Easter Bunny compared to Klaus. He’s a foot soldier, Klaus is the real deal.”

You look down to hide the smile on your face, Elijah? The Easter Bunny? Now that was a funny joke.

“Klaus is known to be the oldest…” Stefan adds and that almost makes you giggle.

“So…” Elena begins, “You're saying the oldest vampire in the history of time is coming after me?”

Well, not the oldest.

“Yes.”

“No.”

Damon sighs, standing up, “No, what they’re saying is, I mean, if what she’s saying is true—“

“Which it is,” Rose cuts in.

“—And you’re not just saying this so we don’t kill you…”

“Which I’m not.”

Damon sighs, “Then… we’re looking at a solid maybe?”

“Look,” Stefan says, going to sit next to Elena, “Elijah’s dead so no one else even knows you exist.”

This makes you look up, unless these idiots found a white oak stake, Elijah was not dead, he was simply resting and he’d be pissed when he got back. You only hoped that he’d stay clear of you, you still held a soft spot for the man and you didn’t want to rat him out, but you would if you had to.

“Not that you know of,” Rose adds.

“That’s not helping…” Damon mutters.

“I’ve never even met anyone who has laid eyes on him, we’re talking centuries of truth mixed with fiction!” Stefan argues, “For all we know he could just be some sort of stupid bedtime story…” he looks at Elena, trying to reassure her that she’s safe.

Rose scoffs, “He’s real and he doesn’t give up. If he wants something, he gets it.” Well ain’t that the truth.

“If you’re not afraid of Klaus then you’re an idiot.” Rose adds. Also true.

“Well, what about you little sister?” Damon asks, gesturing to you, “You ever heard of Klaus?”

“No.” Yes. “I doubt he’s even real.” He’s very real.

“You mentioned you traveled a lot,” Stefan looks at you, “You’ve never heard of the original vampires?”

“Never.”

1870

New Orleans

You had showered off all of the blood, trying to rid yourself of the horrible memory. Why was it that vampires seemed to be everywhere you went? And now you were staying in a house with not one, but four vampires.

Sighing, you get out of the shower and change into the outfit Elijah had provided for you, it was a simple night gown, reaching past your knees. You find your way to the guest room that Elijah had shown you and curl into the bed, unable to sleep. You stay in that position all night, not getting even a wink of rest.

When morning comes, you make your way downstairs to the living room, “Elijah?” you call out softly, knowing that he’d be able to hear even the faintest of whispers.

There’s a whoosh behind you causing you to spin around on your heel, expecting to see Elijah but you don’t. A man stands by the couch, smirking.

”I see my brother has taken to copying me. Bringing home his very own charity case,” the man announces as he drops down on the couch to sit, urging you to sit down as well, you do in fear of upsetting him.

You fidget with your hands out of nervousness and he cracks a smile.

“No need to be scared, love. I’m Klaus…” he holds a hand out for you to take and you do, rather reluctantly.

When you don’t say anything, he continues, “Did my brother say something about me?”

You shake your head, “No, not you.”

“Oh? Not me? Did he say anything about my other siblings, do tell me. I’m just dying to know.”

You look around the room before turning back to him, “He said I should be careful around Kol…”

“Ah, my little brother, yes, he can be quite reckless… and rather… insatiable…”

“Are you talking badly about me to our new guest?” a voice that you assume belongs to Kol fills the room.

Klaus clicks his tongue, holding back a laugh, “No, no, little brother. Simply warning the girl of your tendencies…”

Kol scoffs, before leaning over the back of the couch, his chin practically touching your shoulder as he whispers to you, “Don’t listen to him, darling… or Elijah for that matter.”

You jump a bit and tilt your head away from him, inadvertently giving the vampire easy access to your neck. He chuckles and surprisingly, leans away.

“Don’t tempt me.”

“Kol! Elijah already said you’re to leave her alone!” a blonde girl comes bouncing into the room, pulling Kol further away from you.

In a flash she’s in front of you, holding her hand out for you to take, “I’m Rebekah! It’ll be nice to have another girl around!”

She then looks you up and down, taking in your current outfit, “Now this just won’t do, come now,” she reaches her other hand out for you and when you take it she pulls you off of the couch.

She quickly begins to pull you towards the stairs just as Elijah comes back into the room, he sighs upon seeing you and his sister.

“Do not overwhelm the poor girl, Rebekah.”

“Relax Elijah, I’m only going to get her a change of clothes… and we must do something with this hair!” she twirls a piece of your hair.

And with that, Rebekah practically drags you up to her room.

“Sit.” she guides you to a vanity chair, “You’ve got gorgeous features but this hair… this dress… they are not doing you any favors…”

Your face flushes, “Oh, I haven’t had much money for clothing let alone food… It's been hard to find work and I never really learned how to do my own hair… my brother used to do it for me and he’d allow me to braid his… I just can’t seem to do so when it’s my own head.”

Rebekah smiles softly, “You needn’t worry, I have plenty of options for you!” she rushes to her closet, opening it to reveal a plethora of different dresses.

She holds up a gown with a bit of lace detailing that goes up to the neck, “This will do nicely. Much better than this night gown…” she says as she brushes the sleeve of the dress you currently wore.

She hands you the gown, “Go now,” she points to the bathrooom, “get dressed and I’ll do your hair!”

You do as she says and come back, having her help you tie the back.

“Now, let’s fix this hair.” she pushes you back down into the chair, “Would you like a braid?”

You nod, “That would be lovely…”

Rebekah hums, “You said your brother used to do your hair… Where is he now?”

Your eyes widen a bit before you look down, “Oh, uhm, he’s dead… That’s why I ran from home…”

“You’re a runaway?”

You crack a smile, trying to be as confident as possible, “Was my ratty appearance and lack of cash not enough to give that away?”

Rebekah chuckles, “I suppose… were you always poor?” she asks, nonchalantly.

“Oh Heavens no. My family was very wealthy… the wealthiest family in our town. My father was a landowner.”

“You didn’t think to take any money before running?” She raises a brow.

“I was only eleven at the time and had just witnessed… something awful…” you take a deep breath, you hadn’t ever spoken about this out loud, “I needed to get away.”

Rebekah frowns, dropping your hair, “Elijah said you’re seventeen, you’ve been on your own for six years?”

You nod and Rebekah’s frown deepens, “That’s a long time to be alone… that must have been awful.”

“I’ve managed,” you shrug, “I went back once, a week after I had left when I got second thoughts… I found out that my father had also passed. I came across a newspaper, they believed that someone had killed my father and taken me…”

“He was killed?”

You hum, and Rebekah picks up your hair again.

“Did they ever catch his killer?”

“No… but I have a suspicion it was a vampire.”

“Why would you think that?” she asks as she finishes your braid.

“His head was nearly ripped off.”

A few days later, Klaus found you. Elijah was dealing with other matters so he wasn’t there to monitor his brother's behavior.

You were alone when he found you, in the kitchen. Baking was something that you enjoyed doing at your old home and after running away you hadn’t been able to. Elijah welcomed you to use the kitchen and bake whatever you’d like, saying he wanted to make sure you felt comfortable during your stay.

“Not too broken up about your father being murdered?”

The sudden voice causes you to jump, spilling the cup of sugar you were holding.

“You startled me,” you sigh, beginning to clean up the sugar.

“You’re easy to frighten,” in a second, Klaus is directly next to you, making you yelp, he smirks, “Now answer the question.”

“What?”

“Your father…” he practically circles you, “You think a vampire killed him? You didn’t seem too sad about it.”

“I… it was six years ago… wait, you were listening when I was talking to Rebekah?”

Klaus hums, “Six years is not that long,” he ignores your question, besides, you already knew the answer. “Well, to a vampire at least. I suppose I could buy that if your heart wasn’t racing.”

You let out a breath, “Klaus—“

“Yes yes, I know Elijah has told you to stay clear of me even if you deny it…”

“That’s not—“

“You didn’t like your father!” he exclaims, making your eyes widen, “I’ve figured it out, huh? What was so awful about the man? Do tell.”

You scowl, you knew you shouldn’t mouth off to the vampires but Klaus was testing your patience, “Not that it’s any of your business but, he… he killed my brothers.”

“Brothers? Plural? Interesting, you only mentioned one to Rebekah. You’re lying to us now?”

“I- No! I only mentioned the one that did my hair! I didn’t lie!”

“Withholding the truth then,” he smirks.

You sigh, “Elijah knows everything already, I’ve told him everything. I haven’t lied, both my brothers fell for a vampire- my father got involved…” tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes, “…he ended up killing them both… I assume the vampire- that she got away, that she killed my father… that’s why I’ve been alone.” tears begin to stain your cheeks.

You sniffle, rubbing at your eyes when the door opens. Klaus has a sheepish expression when Elijah enters the room.

“Niklaus,” he practically hisses, “What did you do?”

“Nothing! I simply asked the girl a few questions!”

Elijah narrows his eyes, “I’m sure.”

You went upstairs and stayed there for the rest of the day, trying to avoid everyone. You were deep in thought when Kol’s voice startled you.

“My brother made you cry? He does tend to have that effect on women.”

Kol chuckles, and you turn to see him leaning against the doorframe of the room Elijah has you staying in. Your eyes widen and you turn your back to him, probably not your best move considering he’s a vampire but Elijah had told you to stay away. It was bad enough that you had spoken to him earlier but at least then his siblings were around, now you truly were alone.

“Like I said darling, you needn't be scared.”

“Elijah told me not to speak with you, he wouldn’t have told me that for no reason.”

Kol scoffs, “He’s always so dramatic.”

You don’t respond and Kol sighs, “I’ll go if you want, I simply wanted to make sure Nik didn’t upset you too badly… you’re too pretty to be upset over him.”

You blush, he sounds genuine but you couldn’t trust it. You also didn’t want to upset Elijah, he was the one who was giving you a home after all. He could easily kick you out and back onto the street to fend for yourself.

“I’d just like to be left alone… please.”

You hummed mindlessly in the kitchen, swaying while you baked. It had been three months since the Mikaelsons had allowed you into their home, Elijah promised he would find you your own home soon enough but he had been so busy with other duties.

You didn’t mind, you had grown used to living in their home. Ironically, living in the house of deadly original vampires had been the safest you had ever felt. The Mikaelsons had completely changed your opinion of vampires in just a few, short months. Rebekah had become a close friend of yours, Klaus had stopped his frequent questioning and began to see you as a friend (he never apologized but you knew he felt bad when he gifted you a necklace), and Kol… well… Kol was complicated.

After he had checked on you that day, you became curious about him. Elijah’s warnings only did so much to curb your curiosity. At first you had listened, avoided Kol at all costs but there was just something about him that kept pulling you in.

You would often find your mind wandering back to him. His face, his hair, his eyes, his cheshire-like grin…

Kol was determined to get you to break your walls down, he would find you all the time, whether you were painting like Nik had taught you, braiding your hair like Rebekah, or even just laying in your bed. He would find you and you’d just chat.

You brought up Kol to Elijah once, you wanted to know what was so horrible about him because when he was with you, he was sweet. Elijah wouldn’t give you a clear answer, just reminded you that he was dangerous. You wouldn’t mention how much time you had begun to spend with Kol to Elijah, in fear of making him upset.

But he found out, just like you knew he would.

“Miss Y/N, may I speak with you?” Elijah asks as he enters the kitchen.

You turn to look at him, just having finished the dough for the cookies you were making, “Of course, Elijah.”

“I notice you have become quite close with Kol as of late.”

You gulp, looking down, feeling guilty, Elijah had asked one thing of you and you weren’t even able to do that.

“I’m sorry, I know I—“

Elijah holds up his hand to silence you, “Please.”

You let out a shaky breath and Elijah lowers his hand, “I’ve never seen my little brother care for someone like he cares for you… especially after such a short amount of time. You… you’re good for him. He’s changed… so no more of this sneaking around like children,” he waves his hand to gesture around.

Your face flushes, “Oh we’re not… we’re just… we’re not together…”

Elijah smirks, giving you a knowing look, “I never said anything about a relationship.”

1871

New Orleans

“What are you reading?” Kol asks as he drops onto the couch, sitting next to you.

“Frankenstein,” you hum, not bothering to look up from the book, turning a page.

Kol nods, “I’ve heard of that one…”

You two sit in silence for a moment before Kol sighs dramatically. You close your eyes, composing yourself when Kol sighs again. You mark your page and close the book, finally turning to look at him.

“What Kol?”

He shrugs, “I’m bored.”

“Bored?”

“Very.”

You sigh, “Can I at least finish my chapter before we go off to cause whatever chaos you have planned?”

Kol rolls his eyes, “Fine,” he draws out the word.

Just as you’re about to pick up the book again, Kol drops his head into your lap, laying across the couch.

You tense up immediately, “Kol. What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you to finish your chapter, darling,” he mumbles, “Your thighs are very comfortable.”

You sigh, forcing yourself to relax, it wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy his touch or him being this close, it was that it made you nervous. You were falling for Kol, you knew you were and every touch, no matter how small, made you nervous. Touching was common with Kol, you had a feeling it was how he showed affection.

It didn’t take long for you to finish your chapter, “Kol,” you say quietly but get no response.

Your brows furrow and you look closer at him in your lap, he was breathing evenly, his eyes closed. He was asleep. He looked peaceful, and if you didn’t know any better you’d say he looked innocent and angelic.

You weighed your options, you could wake him up and put distance between the two of you… or you could let him sleep, curled in your lap, while you read another chapter.

You decided on the second option and it definitely had nothing to do with the fact you wanted to keep him so close.

It was calm, everything about the moment was so domestic. You wished you could stay here forever, reading a novel while an original vampire laid asleep on you as you brushed your fingers through his hair.

Unfortunately, no nice thing could last.

The door to the compound flung open, angry footsteps filling the silence.

“Niklaus, wait a moment. Let us think about this.”

“There is nothing to think about!”

Kol tenses in your lap at the loud voices, stirring in his sleep. He sits up, forcing the sleep from his eyes.

Klaus enters the living room, glaring daggers at you. You don’t seem to pick up on his angry gaze, “Did you get it?” you ask excitedly.

You had mentioned a few weeks ago that your mother had a cookbook that contained all of your family's recipes. After she died, the book remained in the study of the boarding house. You were sad, you wanted the book back because you couldn’t remember any of the recipes and Elijah had offered to go get it for you.

You told him not to be ridiculous and that he’d have to travel the whole way to Mystic Falls to get it, he seemed to tense a bit at the name but insisted nonetheless. So you told him about the boarding house and where he would find it, Klaus insisted on accompanying him.

“Yes.” Klaus answers coldly, dropping the book onto the coffee table.

You squeal and lean forward grabbing the book, “Thankyou!” you begin to flip through it, “You have no idea how much this means to me…” you look up, trailing off when you finally notice the look on Klaus’ face.

“We found something else too,” his tone is detached as he tosses a picture onto the coffee table.

You recognized the photo instantly, it had been taken shortly after Katherine arrived in Mystic Falls. It was of you, Stefan, and Katherine. The three of you had smiles on your faces, though, it was obvious Katherine’s was fake.

“Her,” he points to Katherine.

“What?”

“Don't play dumb with me,” Klaus practically growls, “This is the vampire you mentioned?”

You gulp, nodding, “I- yes, that’s Katherine…”

“Katherine?” Elijah muses, “Is that the name she’s using now?”

You didn’t miss the subtle way that Kol slid forward on the couch, or the way he placed his hand on your thigh, attempting to hide you behind his arm, to shield you from Klaus’ fury.

“Where is she?” Klaus keeps his gaze locked onto you.

“I don’t know… I haven’t seen her since I ran from home…”

Kol squeezes your thigh to try and calm you down, to reassure you that he wouldn’t let Klaus hurt you even if he tried. You were grateful for him and Elijah, Klaus was impulsive at times, especially if he thought he was being betrayed.

After a considerable amount of time, Klaus had calmed down. He and Elijah explained the story of Katerina to you, how she had escaped her death, and how Klaus wanted her to be scared before he killed her. How he wanted her to suffer.

Just like last time, Klaus didn’t apologize, the day after you found three books on your nightstand, Pride and Prejudice, Little Women, and Les Miserables.

A few weeks had passed since the Mikaelsons found out about your history with Katherine. And you all went on with life like nothing had happened, Klaus would occasionally ask about Katherine and you would always answer his questions. Katherine was why your brothers were dead. Katherine was the reason you hated vampires. And the Mikaelsons were the reason you didn’t anymore.

“My mother used to make these when I was little… this is actually her recipe- well, my great grandmother's recipe,” you tell Kol as he watches you close the pizzelle iron.

He hums, reaching for one that’s cooling, “In all my life, I’ve never had one of these…”

Your eyes light up, “Oh! I’ve been meaning to ask you this! I know you eat my baked goods… but does human food actually taste good to you?”

Kol tilts his head, “I’ve told you numerous times, darling, you’re an excellent baker…”

“But that’s not what I asked, I wish to know if you enjoy them…”

“Your treats are delectable… as are you,” Kol flirts, leaning closer.

Your face heats up at his comment, “Flattery will get you nowhere, Kol Mikaelson.”

“No?” he raises a brow, his face just inches from yours.

“Well, maybe somewhere…” you whisper, your gaze flickers to his lips.

He smirks, “And where would that be?”

“You tell me…”

The tension between the two of you was thick, it had been for a few months now but nothing had come of it. The two of you danced around each other and your obvious feelings, Rebekah would tease you about it, often remarking on how you could do better than her brother.

Just as his lips were about to brush against yours he pulled back, “Darling…”

“Yes, Kol?”

“The iron.”

Your eyes widen and you quickly turn back to the pizzelle iron, standing up from your chair, opening it quickly, coughing a bit as the smoke hits you directly in the face. You use the tongs to toss the burnt cookies onto the cooling rack as Kol doubles over in laughter.

You glare at him, before letting out a small laugh, “You distracted me! This is your fault!”

He smirks, standing up to his full height, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you close, “I’m a distraction?”

“Yes… you are.”

He presses a kiss to your temple and hums, “Too bad you’re stuck with me…”

You pull away a bit to look up at him, “You think?”

Kol stares at you, debating internally about what to say, “I think… no, I know,” he takes a deep breath, “…that I have completely fallen in love with you, Y/N Salvatore…”

A smile appears on your face, “Well I know that I am utterly in love with you as well, Kol Mikaelson…”

He smiles before capturing your lips in a soft but passionate kiss. The arm around your waist tightens, he pulls you impossibly close and you loop your arms around his neck.

A low whistle followed by clapping causes the two of you to break apart, Kol didn’t let you get too far though, still keeping his hand on your waist.

“Took you long enough,” Klaus smirks.

You cover your face with your face with your hands, completely embarrassed but Kol just seems annoyed by the interruption.

“Is there something you need Nik?” Kol asks, rolling his eyes.

“I was just wondering what that burning smell was, wouldn’t want our lovely home to burn down. But I see now our little baker was just… preoccupied…”

“Rebekah!” Klaus shouts, causing your eyes to widen.

“Nik no!” you retort, peaking through your fingers, but you knew it was too late.

“What the bloody hell do you want now?” Rebekah asks as she walks into the room.

Klaus smirks and then gestures towards you and Kol by tilting his head. Rebekah immediately notices the hand around your waist and gasps.

“Finally! I thought you two would be dancing around each other forever!” she squeals.

“What is all this shouting about?” Elijah asks, entering the room while adjusting his cufflinks.

Kol pinches the bridge of his nose before leaning over to whisper to you, fully aware his siblings could still hear him, “It’s like they all come out of the woodwork at the most inopportune times…”

Elijah spots the cooling racks of pizzelles and makes his way over, immediately picking up one of the burnt cookies. He holds it up and raises a brow at you, waiting for an answer.

Klaus begins to cackle, speeding over to Elijah to take the charred cookie from him, “Brother, Y/N got distracted…” he points at Kol, “the distraction.”

Elijah lets out a little chuckle, clearly amused, “Yes, well, try not to get distracted in the kitchen… we eat in here.”

1872

New Orleans

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Kol holds your face in his hands.

“More than anything… I want to be with you.”

Kol chuckles, “My darling, you’re already with me, you already have me.”

He takes your hands and places them over his heart, “This dead heart belongs to you.”

You giggle a bit at his words and he smiles before frowning, “I just… I don’t want you to think you have to do this for me…”

You smile softly, “I know, but this is what I want, I promise…”

“Then it’s a good thing I’ve already had my witches make you a ring… a gorgeous ring for a gorgeous girl, my gorgeous girl…”

You giggle again and pull him in for a kiss which he quickly reciprocates. After a moment he forces himself to pull away. He scoots til his back is against the headboard then pulls you so you’re sitting with your back against his chest.

Kol brings his wrist to his mouth, fangs protruding and bites into his own flesh before holding his wrist near your mouth for you to take. Both your hands grab onto him, pulling his wrist as close to your mouth as physically possible and begin to drink from him.

He groans at the sensation and brushes some of the hair from your face, “Atta girl… that’s it… just a little more… good…”

When Kol decides you’ve had enough he pulls away, chuckling at the way you try to follow his now healing wrist, “My, my, already so bloodthirsty…”

You look up at him and pout, some of his blood dripping from your lips. He could get used to sight of you and blood, his two favorite things, together. He gives you another kiss, tasting his own blood from your mouth.

Pulling back, he sighs, “This is the part I don’t like.”

You lean up and kiss his cheek, “You’re the only one I’d trust to do this… it’s okay, my love, it’s what I want.”

Reluctantly, Kol brings his hand up to your neck, “I love you, my darling.”

“I love you… now please, kill me.”

He winces at the sound of your neck breaking, squeezing his eyes shut. He lays in your bed, holding your body, brushing the hair from your face while softly humming until you wake up.

Present Day

Mystic Falls

You stare at your daylight ring, spinning it on your finger.

“Y/N… Y/N… Y/N!” Damon snaps his fingers in front of your face to gain your attention.

You jump and look at him and then at Stefan, now noticing that Elena left.

“Are you alright?” Stefan asks, tilting his head.

“I’m fine… just… lost in thought.”

Damon’s gaze stays focused on your ring, “Is that your daylight ring?”

You hum, looking up at him and then at Stefan, before holding your hand up to show off the ring, “I know, it’s not nearly as gaudy as yours.”

Stefan chuckles but Damon narrows his eyes, “It’s not a wedding ring,” he notes.

“No…” you state but it sounds more like a question.

“So the guy can ask you to die and be forced to drink blood for the rest of eternity but he can’t get down on one knee and pop the question?”

“Damon…” Stefan sighs, they had just gotten you back and he was worried that all of Damon’s passive aggressive comments were going to drive you away again.

You scoff, “He didn’t ask me to do anything, it was my choice. I wanted this. We… we didn’t need to be married to be in love… it just wasn’t the right time for a wedding anyways…”

Stefan seems a little shocked, “You asked him to turn you?”

Before you can respond to Stefan, Damon interrupts, “This was your first boyfriend?”

“He was my first everything,” you state matter-of-factly.

Both Stefan and Damon groan in disgust at your words and the implication of them.

You roll your eyes, “Oh grow up.”

Stefan stands up, “And on that note, I’m going to school… make sure Elena’s okay…”

You fake pout, “You don’t wanna hang out with your sister after not seeing her for so long?”

“That’s not—“

You cut him off, “Relax Stef, I’m kidding. Go.”

He gives you a curt nod and heads out of the room, leaving you alone with Rose and Damon. You almost forgot Rose was here, she had been quiet ever since she had finished her speech about Klaus. Damon gives Rose a look and she nods, leaving the room.

“I thought you hated vampires,” Damon states, taking the spot on the couch where Stefan once was.

“I did… until I met him.” Them.

Damon stays quiet for a moment, his eyes soften a bit, “This guy must have been special.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, “He was… I really loved him, Damon. I really do still love him…”

Your brother sighs, scooching closer to you on the couch. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and pulls you to him.

“I am happy to have you back, you know… it’s just… you’re not the same kid I left behind, you’ve grown so much, to me you’re still the little girl whose hair I used to braid…”

“It’s okay, Day… I get it… I do,” you smile, using the nickname you used to call him as a child.

He ruffles your hair, “Why don’t we go out, I’ll show you around town… it’s practically the same, just modern.”

“I… uhm…” you sigh, “I’m tired to be honest, I traveled a long way to get here… and I think all the ‘excitement’ just made me even more tired…”

He nods, “Alright, I’m assuming you want your same room, you remember where it is?”

You stand up from the couch, “How could I forget?”

You leave Damon on the couch, making your way to the stairs. You take note of Rose who was standing near the kitchen doorway, she had clearly been listening to your conversation. There was no such thing as privacy with vampires.

Your room was exactly as you had left it, you could tell that no one had even entered the room in years. If you had to guess, you’d say that the last ones to enter were Klaus and Elijah— they had also retrieved your favorite teddy bear on their mission to get the cook book. There was dust floating around and cobwebs everywhere. You let out a sigh just as Damon makes his way up the stairs to you, he must have remembered the state of your room.

“No one’s been in there since…”

“I know,” you cut him off.

“We didn’t want to disturb it…”

You sigh, “Can I just… have another room for now?”

He nods and leads you down the hall to one of the guest rooms that had been maintained over the years, “I can get you extra blankets? Extra pillows?”

You shake your head, walking further into the room and sit on the bed, “This is fine.”

”Alright, well, I’ll let you sleep,” as he’s about to leave, his hand goes to the light switch to turn it off.

In a second, you’re off of the bed. You grab his hand causing him to groan in pain, you were sure you broke fingers but you didn’t care. You couldn’t let him turn off the light.

“Ow!”

You let go after a second, “I… I’m sorry…” you mumble.

“Jesus! If you didn’t want it off you could have said that!” he waves his hand around, wincing as his fingers snap themselves back into place.

You just blink at him, and he sighs, “Just get some rest.”

He reaches for the door this time, you grab it as it’s about to close and he stops, “Yeah?”

“Don’t close the door.”

Damon raises a brow, “You want the light on and the door open?”

You nod, “Please…”

“You can sleep like that?”

“It’s the only way I can sleep.”

Damon goes to open his mouth, but quickly shuts it, deciding that for once in his life he should just be quiet. He nods and leaves it at that, you let out of a sigh when goes, dropping down onto the guest bed.

You want to close your eyes but you can’t. It’s too dark.

Stefan eventually returns and finds Damon sipping on bourbon as usual.

“Our sister is strange,” Damon announces the second Stefan steps foot in the door.

Stefan sighs, “Alright, I’ll bite. What happened?”

Damon sets down his glass, “She’s upstairs, sleeping.”

“Okay?”

“With the door open, the curtains open, and the light on.”

“Damon, just leave it alone.”

The older Salvatore scoffs, “Come on Stefan, that’s weird.”

Stefan shrugs, “I didn’t say it wasn’t. I just said to leave it alone. We just got her back, literally today and if you keep pushing like you always do, you’re going to push her away. Again.”

“Don’t act like this is all on me. We both pushed her away… pushed her right into the arms of some scummy vampire and now she’s stuck like us. Well, at least it sounds like she actually got to make that choice.”

“I thought we were past that,” Stefan lets out a humourless chuckle.

“We’ll never be past that.”

“I was just joking before about you two constantly fighting…” you mumble as you walk down the stairs.

Damon smirks, “Stefan loves to bicker.”

You raise a brow, “So it’s only Stefan then?”

You swiftly make your way across the room to the bourbon and grab a glass, you turn to Damon, “May I?”

“Knock yourself out.”

Humming, you pour yourself a glass, looking at Damon over the rim of the cup, “You and Rose woke me up earlier, safe to say I’m disgusted…” This was a lie, you never fell asleep in the first place.

Damon rolls his eyes, “Now who needs to grow up?”

Stefan sighs and takes that as his que to cut in, “You sleep well? Besides that…”

You take a sip of the alcohol before responding, “Like a baby.”

Another lie, you hadn’t slept ‘like a baby’ since 1914.

1914

New Orleans

“He’ll never let us leave, he’ll never let us be happy.” Kol holds you tightly in his arms, “This is the only way…” he pulls back to hold your face in his hands, “I’ll find the diamond, my witches will do what we need, and then we will leave this place, my love. I want to show you the world, just as you wish but we can’t do that with him looming over us.”

You swallow, “I am tired of watching him hurt you… all of you.”

“And I do not want him to ever hurt you.“

Klaus had been a friend to you over the years but the one thing you disagreed on was how he handled his siblings. It broke your heart to watch any of them be daggered and put away in those wretched boxes for however long he deemed necessary. It drove a rift in between the two of you and you knew Kol was right, with how tightly of a leash Klaus kept on Kol, it was only a matter of time before Klaus saw Kol as a threat and daggered him again.

Besides, it wouldn’t be killing Nik. It would just be giving him a taste of his own medicine for once.

“Okay…”

“Okay?”

You nod and Kol lets out a small chuckle, half smiling at you, he presses his lips to yours.

Pulling back, he looks you up and down, “All you have to do is look pretty, which is an easy task for you considering you always look gorgeous.”

He takes your hand and has you do a twirl, admiring the way your dress moves as you spin, “Absolutely stunning.”

You roll your eyes, giggling as he spins you right into his arms, “Always such a charmer.”

“Only for you…” he presses a kiss to your head, “You head down to the party I’ll be right there.”

You hum, connecting your lips one last time before heading downstairs, blending into the crowd around you. Soon after, Kol would make his way downstairs, he snuck up behind you, placing his hands on your hips and whispering into your ear.

“Rebekah knows but do not fret… she’s going to help us.”

Only she wouldn’t, Rebekah ran straight to Klaus and told him everything.

All of you were currently on the stairs, posed for a family photograph. Kol had his arm wrapped securely around your waist when Klaus raised his glass, taping the side of it with a knife to attract the attention of everyone in the room. He starts by thanking those invited for attending but then makes a special toast to Rebekah.

He looks at you and Kol while speaking, “It is especially gratifying in times when treachery runs deep to know you have someone you can trust…” he turns back to face Rebekah, smiling at her, “A toast, to you, my sister.”

Kol tenses, the two of you share a look and quickly begin to make your way up the stairs. You make it to the top of the stairs before Kol does and just as he’s about to join you, Elijah speeds in front of him. Elijah grabs Kol’s arms, successfully detaining him as Klaus slowly walks up the stairs. You’re frozen in place, unsure what to do and Kol looks at you. He knows this will be the last time he sees you for a very long time so he decides to commit your features to memory. He regrets not asking you for a dance earlier.

“Ladies and gentlemen! I do apologize for the disturbance! But, what’s a Mikaelson party without a little squabble…?” He reveals a silver dagger.

“Y/N run!” Kol shouts and you listen.

You rush away making Klaus sigh, looking at Rebekah over his shoulder, “Catch her,” he commands.

Kol looks at his sister, a pleading look in his eyes as he struggles in Elijah’s hold— watching her run after you, knowing that it would be near impossible for you to outrun her.

You hear Kol’s pained scream as Klaus shoves the dagger into his heart, trying to fight your tears as you run. You were outside when Rebekah caught you, slamming you into the wall.

“Bekah please…”

Her eyes scan your face, your fear, your grief, and she loosens her hold, “I have never had a true friend until you, Y/N… please… forgive me for what I am about to do.”

Rebekah takes your face in her hands, staring into your eyes and you begin to panic, knowing what is about to happen.

“You promised you’d never do that! All of you did! That you’d never take my choice away!” you fight against her.

“Look at me,” her voice becomes hypnotic and you find yourself unable to look away from her eyes, “You’re going to forget Kol, you’re going to forget that you were ever in love with him. You’ve never even heard his name. You are going to forget all about Elijah and… me. All you will know regarding the Mikaelson family is that you have to keep running from Klaus. You don’t stop, you don’t stay in one place for long, you keep running.”

Your eyes have completely glazed over, pupils dilated, “I keep running from Klaus…”

Rebekah pulls back from you, staring at you as your eyes go back to normal, “Y/N?”

“I… I’m sorry, do I know you? I… nevermind that I need to get going, I’m sorry again,” you say, walking past her before using your speed to get farther away.

Rebekah lets out a shaky breath, knowing that Klaus will not believe that you were able to outrun her. She brings her own hands to her neck and snaps it, falling to the ground.

Maybe he’d believe that.

Present Day

Mystic Falls

A few days had passed since your arrival in Mystic Falls, while everything had seemingly calmed down a bit, there was still the looming presence of Klaus.

You had been briefly involved with their plan of getting the moonstone from Katherine, you knew it wouldn’t do them any good and it was clear they were grasping at straws to try and save the doppelgängers life. After contacting him, he told you to just continue on as is so you wouldn’t raise suspicion. You had witnessed Elena’s attempt at a self-sacrifice play, which she failed at terribly due to your brother's intervention… and Elijah’s.

Damon was incredibly annoyed when he found out Elijah was still alive. And after a lot of back and forth and changing of plans, you managed to convince Damon to let you accompany him to the bar to confront Jules. You refused to be on babysitting duty with Jeremy.

You made it your mission to avoid Elijah, knowing that if you saw him you’d end up telling Klaus in fear of him interfering with their plan. You already knew that Elena and her group of friends would try to interfere but you could handle them - you had plans. Caroline was meant to be the vampire… but you had plenty of options for a vampire, maybe even your own brothers. Tyler Lockwood was a werewolf, but you needed a backup, which is the whole reason you went to the bar with Damon. You wanted to get an idea about Jules so that it would be easier to get her.

Jules was smart, she wouldn’t drink the wolfsbane and she instantly knew what you and Damon were. That wouldn’t matter, you knew when it came down to it - you’d be able to capture her with ease. You backed down from the argument, not wanting to fight in the middle of the bar but Damon didn’t. He kept pushing just like he always did.

That brought you to where you were now, back at the boarding house with Damon and Rose. The two were clearly having a moment so you decided to take a step back into the living room. Just as you do, a large wolf jumps through the window, slamming you into the ground. You hold its jaw, pushing its mouth away from you in fear of being bit.

“Damon!” you shriek, “A little help would be nice!”

Damon goes to the fireplace mantel, picking up a sword, taking a swing at the wolf. It lets out a pained sound and releases you- now going to attack Damon. Before it’s able to turn your brother into a chew toy, Rose jumps in front of him, taking the brunt of the attack. The werewolf sinks its teeth into her shoulder, infecting her with its deadly bite.

Your brother slashes the wolf once more and it takes off into the night, knowing it wouldn’t survive another hit from the blade. You let out a sigh of relief, turning to look at Damon and Rose.

“How bad is it?” Damon asks Rose, helping her off the ground to examine the bite.

“It hurts…” Rose whimpers.

You frown, already knowing what is going to happen, you knew of the false hope that she would get.

Damon’s eyes widen, “It’s healing!”

Rose tilts her head to look at her shoulder better, “Oh my God… I thought a werewolf bite was fatal!”

‘It is’ you want to say, to warn her of what is going to happen about how she’ll lose her mind. But you stay silent.

“I thought…” tears fill Rose’s eyes and Damon pulls her into his arms.

“You’re going to be okay…” he reassures her, giving you a look.

You press your lips together, nodding, leaving the room to give them their moment once more. Allowing them to live in a fantasy where Rose would be okay.

You made the decision to disappear for a few days, leaving your brothers and Elena to deal with Rose. Both of them left numerous messages on your phone.

“This is what? Call two hundred and twenty four? You’re really not going to answer them?” Klaus muses.

You sigh, shaking your head, “No. I’m not. They just want help with Rose… I don’t… I don’t want to see her like that, losing her mind… I’ve seen that happen too many times before.”

Klaus hums, “Let me guess, you’re going to ask for my blood to heal her?”

“No,” you shake your head, “She needs to die, she knows too much about you and your family, she’s a threat… besides she’s probably dead now.”

“Our family,” Klaus corrects.

You continue, ignoring him, “I just thought she’d die with a stake in her heart not from going insane.”

“Still sensitive.”

You choose to ignore his comment once again, playing the latest voicemail left by Stefan.

“Y/N, I don’t know where you are or why you left… I’m worried though… about you, about Elena… I miss you… can you please come home? Listen, Rose is dead and Damon is doing what he does best— deflecting. He’s got this new girl… Andie Star I think? I- I don’t know what happened that night, maybe you got bit too? I really hope not… Maybe you got scared… you ran… just please at least call me if you’re not going to come home… I need to know you’re okay. I love you.”

“I presume you’re going back now?”

You nod and Klaus smirks, “Excellent… I’ll be making my appearance soon.”

By time you arrived back in Mystic Falls, Elijah had been ‘dealt with’ as Damon put it. That made you anxious, you doubted they had found a white oak stake but the only alternative was a dagger, and that thought made your stomach churn.

Leaving had fractured the trust you built between your brothers, you knew it would but that was fine with you. The less you knew regarding Elijah, the better. You told them the truth, that you knew Rose was going to die - painfully and out of her mind. Damon was angry that you didn’t tell them and Stefan understood.

There was also the little fact that Katherine had been released of her compulsion. You had to admit, you were a tad anxious she’d find a way to Klaus and find out about your deal. If she ratted you out to Stefan and Damon, every part of your perfectly calculated plan would be ruined. Hopefully, Klaus would be enough to distract your brothers from you so they wouldn’t get too suspicious.

It was no secret that Niklaus Mikaelson liked making an entrance and being as you were currently not getting all the intel since they still didn’t trust you fully— Klaus decided to use one of his favorite tricks which you suggested. Body possession.

On the night of the school dance, Klaus possessed Alaric's body, revealing himself to Bonnie and Elena with dramatic flair and then he killed the Benett witch— at least that’s what you two thought.

The truth of Bonnie’s fate would be revealed on the night of the ritual when she showed up to kill Klaus with the help of Elijah.

Elijah had dug his hand into Klaus’ chest and you had no idea what to do. You couldn’t fight Elijah, that was one fight you’d certainly lose, not to mention Bonnie and all of the others being there, they’d stop you before you could lay a hand on him.

Klaus looked at you, silencing your fears with one glance before looking back to Elijah and confessing the truth, “I didn’t bury them at sea.”

His gaze flickered to you and Elijah looked to where his brother was, he hadn’t seen you in so long but still, he trusted you, so when you nod your head ever so slightly… he believes Klaus.

Two days had passed since the ritual and Klaus was now a hybrid. You had spent those two days following Elijah through the woods, cleaning up Klaus’ mess.

In fact, that’s where you currently are. It had been practically silent between the two of you, neither of you wanting to start the conversation, after all it had been nearly a hundred years. That was until you decided to open your mouth after arriving at another camp that had been ripped apart.

You move a body and scoff, “He’s not even draining them. He’s killing for sport.”

Elijah hums, “You sound shocked, you should know by now this behavior is expected of Niklaus.”

“He’s wasting perfectly good snacks,” you grumble as you throw the body to Elijah who catches it with ease.

“You’re thirsty?”

“No, Elijah, I’m annoyed,” you throw your hands up, walking closer to him, “It’s been two days since the full moon, why is he still a wolf?”

“I don’t have the answer to that.”

“Okay, well, what if he’s stuck as a wolf? Hm? Then what? We’re going to put him on a leash and have him lead us to the coffins?”

Elijah lets out a chuckle, “While that image is amusing, I’m sure he’ll be turning back soon.”

You sigh and go back to cleaning up the bodies in silence, when you’re done you both continue to follow the trail that Klaus was leaving behind, you had no doubt you’d soon run into more bodies.

“What have you been up to for the past century?” Elijah asks, walking so close that your arms brush against each other.

You come to a stop, and it takes Elijah a moment to stop and turn back, looking at you slightly confused.

“Are you serious? I was trapped, Elijah, and when I wasn’t trapped I was running from him,” you jab your finger into his chest, “from you.”

Elijah looks down at you, a frown on his face, “I haven’t been doing Niklaus’ bidding since he said he dropped all of them into the ocean… he implied that he had found you as well… that you were gone… I never did want to hurt you, Y/N.”

“Well it didn’t seem that way to me. I didn’t know that. I’ve spent the last century looking over my shoulder, not staying anywhere for more than a moment because I knew that no matter where I went, you, or him, or some minion of his would be waiting. And when I wasn’t running I was trapped… there… all alone…”

“Y/N—“

“I know what we did was unforgivable,” you say, taking a step away from him to continue following the trail and he follows, “but what he had planned for me was just cruel…”

“If it’s any consolation, none of us agreed with Niklaus’ ‘gift’.”

You let out a humorless laugh, “Is that what he called it?”

“Yes, it was intended to be given to you for your engagement… obviously you were shown sooner than intended… it was his disturbed way of welcoming you into the family officially.”

Your brows furrow, “What engagement?”

Elijah stops, seemingly realizing his mistake, “I apologize, I thought you knew… Kol…”

You stop and turn to him, “He was going to propose?” your voice breaks a bit as you will away your tears.

Elijah sighs, stopping to face you, “He had rings, new daylight rings… I do not know much of how he planned to propose, just that he planned to do it after the new year… You two had been together for so long I assume he thought it was time to ask…”

You blink a few times, before clearing your throat, “Let’s just find Klaus.”

He nods, continuing to follow the path, he can practically feel the emotions rolling off of you. Grief, sadness, anger, and even jealousy. Then there was the look on your face, the look of heartbreak. Even after all these years, he still hated to see you like this. He would always feel guilty, after all, he was the first one you met, the one who introduced you to everyone. He would forever feel at least somewhat responsible for your pain.

1869

New Orleans

It had been five years, nearly six since you ran from home, since your brothers were killed, and you were still having a hard time settling down. You found yourself in New Orleans, you loved everything about it, but there was one problem. It was hard to find work as a woman and even harder as a seventeen year old so you adapted to stealing.

You would wait by stands or alleyways and wait for the perfect target, you’d typically go for men who held their heads high as if they owned the world. Men who were so well dressed that you knew they had money to spare. Sometimes you’d even hang out near bars to find men stumbling around, too drunk to notice you taking their entire wallet.

It was late now, you were leaning against a wall when you saw him. A rather attractive man dressed in a fancy suit, you had no doubt that it had been tailor fitted to him. He begins to walk down the street, walking right past you, seemingly not noticing you. There weren’t as many people out now, normally you’d use the strangers during the day as cover but this man clearly had too much money for his good, you couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

As quietly as possible, you push yourself off the wall and follow behind him. You smirk when you see his wallet in his back pocket but just as your fingers graze what you assume is real leather, his hand snatches your wrist.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low, dangerous.

You curse yourself for being so reckless. You swallow your pride and decide to try and flirt your way out. Men with the kind of money you knew he had, always enjoyed being flirted with, it boosts their already over-inflated egos.

You giggle while leaning a bit closer, “You’re even more handsome up close…”

He chuckles, “Is that so?”

“And this suit… it fits you so well…” you brush your hand along his chest.

“That’s very flattering…” he smiles, bringing his hand up to cup yours.

Hook. Line. Sinker. You had him.

“But I know what you’re doing.”

You did not have him.

Your smile fades away and you pull back from him. This had never happened before, most of the men were too dumb to figure it out (at least until they got home and found their wallets missing), it was just your luck that you’d try and rob the only smart guy around.

“How old are you?” He looks you up and down.

You gulp, “Seventeen, sir.”

He pulls his wallet from his pocket and holds it out to you, “Take it.”

“What?”

“Take it, you want my wallet? Take it.”

With shaky hands, you reach for the wallet, it was embarrassing being caught like this but you needed the money.

“Thank you…” you trail off, realizing you hadn’t learned his name.

“Elijah Mikaelson.”

Your eyes widen at the name, you had heard of the Mikaelsons before. A rich, powerful family and there were whispers all around that they were the thing you hated most. Vampires.

He smirks at your reaction, “And you are?”

“Y/N.”

He nods and smiles but it quickly fades when he glances at his watch, “Well, Miss Y/N do try to stay safe… you never know who or what may be lurking in these streets, especially at this time of night.”

And just like that, he was gone. The next time you saw him was after the new year when he pulled a newly turned vampire off of you. You saw him a third time when this exact thing happened again, you didn’t know why but you it seemed you were practically vampire bait.

After these two incidents, Elijah decided it wasn't safe for you to be on the streets any longer and invited you to come stay with him for some time before he could find something more permanent. An idea you were not so eager about when he confirmed that he and his family were in fact, vampires. But you couldn’t pass up the offer when he was offering you an actual bed to sleep in and numerous necessities. Little did either of you know that the compound would become your permanent home.

Present Day

Mystic Falls

After your conversation you had fallen behind Elijah, walking slower to keep the distance. When he called out that he had found him, you hardly even picked up the pace.

“You’ve been busy…” Elijah remarks, leaning on a tree.

“That was… amazing.” You hear Klaus’ voice before you see him.

And when you do see him you groan, spinning around and closing your eyes, “You could have told me he was naked.”

“Did you think I was carrying around his clothes these past two days for fun?” Elijah raises a brow.

“It’s been two days?” Klaus asks, you can hear him shuffling around while getting dressed.

“Full moon came and went. You remained a wolf.” Elijah states but it’s more of a question.

“I can change at will then, that’s good to know.”

Klaus smiles and then chuckles, “I remember… every single kill.”

“Yes, we’ve been cleaning up your little mess along the way.” Elijah gestures between the two of you.

“Just like old times then.”

Elijah hums, and pushes off the tree, handing Klaus his boots, “Well, you’ve had your fun. I believe we have a bargain.”

“That’s right!” Klaus exclaims, leaning down to put on his boots, “Now what was it again? Oh yeah, wait, I remember, that’s it! You wish to be reunited with our family!”

“And you!” he shouts towards you, “You want your precious Kol back…”

You turn around, finally facing him, pleased to see that he has put his pants on. You want to say something but hold your tongue, there was a time where you weren’t afraid of him but now it felt that if you even stepped a toe out of line he’d hunt you down.

Elijah brushes off Klaus’ jacket, “You gave me your word, Niklaus.”

Klaus smiles, cheekily, “And what kind of brother would I be if I broke my bond… even if you did try and kill me.”

You sigh, and Elijah holds out Klaus’ jacket for him to put on, “I could have… but I didn’t.”

Klaus puts on his jacket and fixes the collar, “And now no one can,” he turns to face Elijah, “Relax, Elijah, all is forgiven.”

He smiles at you, “That applies to you as well, love. You have more than proved yourself loyal.”

“Where are they?” Elijah cuts in.

Klaus grins, patting his brother's arm, “You need to lighten up… I’ll bring you to them soon enough.”

He walks ahead of you and Elijah, the two of you sharing a look before you scoff and follow after the hybrid. He ends up taking you to Alaric's apartment, you feel a pit in your stomach knowing that Katherine is going to be there but you do your best to push it away.

“Look who decided to come for a visit.” Katherine gestures to Stefan as you, Klaus, and Elijah enter the apartment.

“I need your help.” Stefan states, his eyes flickering to you, wondering why the hell you’re with them, there was no way for you to know what had happened to Damon so that couldn’t be it.

Elijah shuts the door, and Stefan steps closer, “For my brother.” he then looks at you, “our brother.”

Klaus clicks his tongue, “Oh well, whatever it is, it’s going to have to wait a tick. You see, I have an obligation to my brother.” he points at Elijah. “And your sister…” he points at you.

“It requires my immediate attention.” Klaus brushes past Stefan.

You hug yourself, feeling anxious of the entire situation, it was bad enough that Katherine was here and now Stefan was too.

“You understand how important family is or you wouldn’t be here.” Elijah walks a bit closer to Stefan, “My brother gave me his word that he would reunite me with my family.”

“And so I shall.” Klaus speaks from behind Elijah, Elijah spins around to face his brother but it is too late, Klaus shoves a dagger through his heart.

You feel frozen when Elijah screams, tears begin to fill your eyes, you know what is about to come and there's no point in running because he’d just catch you. Rebekah wasn’t here this time to buy you time.

His body drops to the ground with a sickening thud, his skin completely grey and you knew you would not get the privilege of a quick death.

Klaus smiles at you and the tears begin to fall from your eyes.

“Please! I- I didn’t know about Elijah’s plan! I didn’t even know he was here! I only heard rumors! I swear! You said it yourself, Klaus- I’m loyal! I’ve proved it!”

Klaus shushes you and walks closer, your body doesn’t move, you’re rooted in your spot. He brings his hand up to hold your cheek and brushes a tear away, you shudder at the touch, letting out a sob.

“Loyal…?” Stefan questions, the floorboards creaking when he steps forward.

Klaus’ gaze immediately snaps to your brother, “Another step and I’ll rip her heart out.”

“She’s my sister-“

“All the more reason for you to stay put, Stefan.”

The two stare at each other for a moment before Stefan steps back. Klaus smirks, turning back to you. You tense up when he rests his hand on your neck, another sob wracks through your body.

“Don’t do this… I did what you asked! I found the doppelgänger! I found Elena! I called you as soon as I found her! Sure- Katherine found the werewolf but I made sure you had the backup one! And you needed the backup one! And- and using Alaric was my idea! I came up with that, it was perfect! You thought it was hilarious! I’ve helped you!”

Stefan’s brow furrows at your admission, his voice barely audible as he connects the dots, “You’re the reason he’s here… that’s… that’s why you came back to Mystic Falls to find us… not because you missed us, but because you’re helping him…” 

You don’t bother to look over to your brother, you felt bad for betraying his trust, for lying to him but he could never understand, you don’t say anything, it wouldn’t matter now.

You look up at Klaus with tears staining your cheeks, “I did everything right!” your voice falls to a whisper, “Don’t make me go back there, it’s dark, Nik, I hate the dark…”

“You know, I considered you family once, I treated you as such.”

“Please Nikkie… you gave me your word…I just want him back, you promised me!”

“Oh love…” Klaus brings his hand up to brush some of the hair from your face, “You have me confused with Elijah…”

In a split second his hand falls to your neck, the sound of it snapping fills the room and he drops your body on the ground, discarding you.

Klaus turns back to Stefan who looks devastated by the news, “Don’t look so glum Stefan, you wouldn’t be the first to be tricked by your sister. She’d do anything to survive, even if it meant betraying those closest to her,” he glances at Katherine, noting the similarities.

He shakes his head, looking back at Stefan, “But that’s a story for another day…”

Klaus speeds forward, slamming Stefan into the wall, “Now… what am I going to do with you?”

Present Day

Chicago

“My sister? She knew you? All of you?”

Klaus approaches the coffins, “If you can’t handle it, don’t ask.”

Stefan looks at all of the coffins but two of them catch his attention, they’re away from the rest, almost like they’ve been isolated. One of the coffins is made of some sort of metal and they both have engravings on them that compliment each other.

Klaus notices his gaze and smirks, “I see you’ve spotted the lovers.”

“the lovers?” Stefan raises a brow.

His smirk deepens, he steps away from Rebekah’s coffin and to the others, he opens one of them, revealing a boy in clothing from the the early 1900s.

Stefan looks over the boy, completely confused he turns to Klaus who grins.

“You wouldn’t recognize him… you never had the pleasure of meeting Kol…” he brushes his hand over the engraving on the other one, “You’d recognize whose in this one though…”

Klaus could see the gears turning in Stefan’s head, his eyes widening as he pieced the puzzle together.

“My sister?” his voice breaks a bit.

Klaus laughs, “You always were quick, Ripper.”

“This is what you meant by family? You got her a coffin and a dagger? That’s family to you?”

The hybrid clicks his tongue a few times, wagging his finger, “No Stefan, I got her a coffin… I never said anything about a dagger.”

Stefan’s heart sinks at the new information, it all hit him at once, why you hated the dark, why you had to have the door open, why couldn’t stand to be in silence.

You didn’t get a century long sleep like Klaus’ siblings would, you got to lay there and rot, slowly and painfully, all alone.

“I had a witch make it, it’s spelled… only I can open it.” Klaus boasts, clearly proud of his work.

“That’s cruel, even for you.”

“Maybe so, but I must punish those who betray me accordingly.”

Klaus takes a step closer to Stefan, “You met Rebekah and I in 1920… but we did not meet by chance. I sought you out, I was looking for your sister… The girl can really run when she wants to. I was hoping you’d be able to help me find her, but you were too busy draining civilians, Ripper.”

“I wouldn’t have been helpful either way. I thought she was dead.”

“I’m aware… I thought that she’d maybe be nearby, watching, that was something she often did— check up on you and Damon. Regardless, I found her on my own in 1924.”

1924

London

Today marks four years since Rebekah’s compulsion had worn off which meant one of two things, she was dead (unlikely) or she had been daggered (very likely).

It had been four years since you remembered Kol and ten years that you had been running. You were tired, tired of running, tired of having to look over your shoulder every five seconds, tired of not having your beloved around.

Klaus was hunting you and you had done a damn good job at keeping him off of your trail, always being careful when finding a snack and making sure you were never in one place for too long.

So you decided to do the opposite, you had been in London for two weeks now, ripping through crowds of people with no remorse. You wanted Klaus to find you, you wanted him to kill you.

You’re currently in a bar full of people, well, dead people. You slaughtered everyone and now had your teeth buried in some man’s neck.

“Perhaps you’re more like Stefan than I thought.” Klaus’ voice fills the bar.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off of the now dead, drained man. You look at Klaus with blood coating your face and staining your dress.

After staring at each other for a moment, you stand to your full height, Klaus gives you a once over before raising a brow.

“You’ve gotten sloppy, left a trail of bodies a mile long leading me right to you.”

You simply stare at him and he smirks, “You wanted to be found.”

“I can’t do this anymore… not without him. I‘m tired, Nik. Please, just end it.”

Niklaus clicks his tongue, “End it?” He takes a step towards you.

“Kill me.”

Klaus laughs, “You think I want to kill you?”

Your brows furrow and you take a step back from the hybrid, Klaus snaps his fingers and two men enter the room carrying a coffin.

You take another step back, eyes widening and Klaus grins, “You can try to run but you won’t get far…”

“No… you… you can’t dagger me…”

“You’re right, daggers are such trivial things to make… you would know after all. But a lockbox that only I can open, now that’s much simpler.”

You decide to risk it, attempting to speed away but he catches you in a second, holding you up in the air by your throat.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be back with him soon enough… consider this me officially welcoming you into the family.”

Present Day

Chicago

“What was the point of letting her out just to lock her back up? To be cruel?”

Klaus shrugs, “I was bored and decided to make her a deal in 1984.”

“1984? You kept her in there for…”

“Sixty years, Stefan. She betrayed me and those were the consequences. When I woke her up we made an agreement.”

“What kind of agreement?”

“She’d find me Katherine and bring her to me. She couldn’t ever find Katherine but she found me something even better…”

“Elena…”

“Yes, the doppelgänger.”

“So she knew the truth about your curse? That you’re a hybrid?”

“She was my family once, lived with us for nearly half a century. She knows a lot more than she led you all to believe. But don’t get any ideas, she’d never tell you anything that could hurt us… she wouldn’t risk Kol or Rebekah getting caught in the crossfire… or Elijah, though I suppose she’d be alright losing me considering she attempted to do so herself.”

“Moving on!” Klaus chirps, moving back to Rebekah, “It’s time for my little sister to wake up…”

“And I knew her?” Stefan asks, looking into the now open coffin, “I don’t recognize her.”

“Well don’t tell her that,” Klaus muses, “Rebekah’s temper is worse than mine.”

He pulls the dagger out, waiting for a moment before sighing, “Any Day now, Rebekah… she’s being dramatic.”

Present Day

Mystic Falls

It had been months since Klaus had locked you away. You were a bit surprised when he came to free you, your bones creaked, skin practically gray… still, you weren’t nearly as desiccated as the last time you had been in that coffin.

He fed you blood and brushed your hair for you as if you were a doll then provided you with a white colored dress that went to your knees, it reminded you of the one Elijah had given you when you first arrived in their home.

When Klaus revealed he was hosting a dinner with Elijah for Stefan and Damon you realized what he was doing. You were a bargaining chip.

You sat in the living room, humming to yourself, waiting for them to arrive. You still felt weak from not having blood for so long and the fact you were shaking was proof of that, the little blood that Klaus had provided was not enough.

Soon enough, your brothers arrived and were let inside by Elijah, “Niklaus, our guests have arrived…”

“Damon… Stefan…” Klaus greets, standing by the head of the dining room table, “Elijah tells me you seek an audience… very bold. Let’s discuss the terms of our agreement like civilized men, shall we?” he gestures to the large table that was set for five.

“It’s better to indulge him,” Elijah states, moving past your brothers.

“I didn’t come here to eat Klaus,” Stefan narrows his eyes, taking a step down the stairs, “I didn’t want to come here at all… but… I was told I had to, because you’d hear us out.”

Klaus hums, “Well we can sit and eat… or I can reach down your throats and pull out your insides…” he takes his seat at the head of the table, “choice is yours…”

Your brothers decide it would be best to sit and eat. Once the four brothers had sat down, Klaus sat forward in his chair, dramatically placing his hands in front of him, “I almost forgot! Sweetheart!” he calls out, “You can come out now!”

That was your que to enter, walking through the doorway and making a beeline for the table, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Elijah stands when he sees you, pulling out your chair for you and when you sit he pushes you in.

“Y/N…” Damon says quietly, it isn’t until then that you realize he hasn’t seen you since the night of the ritual.

“Damon…” you mumble in a voice so quiet that anyone without supernatural hearing wouldn’t be able to hear you.

“How are you—“ he begins but is quickly cut off by Stefan.

“She’s practically part of their freaky family, Damon, and Klaus won’t kill his family… he’ll just torture them endlessly.”

“That’s not very nice Stefan,” Klaus clicks his tongue.

You grab the glass of wine, downing it as quickly as possible. Hoping that it will not only curb your blood cravings but also make this dinner party a little more bearable. When you finish your glass, you reach for Elijah’s.

He raises a brow, shooting you an unimpressed look, “By all means, help yourself.”

You take a sip of the wine, ignoring Elijah, “Can we please get on with this dinner… I’m starved.”

“Well at least one of you is hungry… Stefan seems to have lost his appetite,” Klaus notes, nodding his head in Stefan’s direction.

Damon glances at his brother, gesturing with his fork, “Eat. I thought we agreed we’d leave the grumpy Stefan at home.”

Reluctantly, Stefan picks up his fork making Klaus smile, “That’s the spirit. Isn’t it nice? Five of us dining together? Such a treat. Is that what you had in mind when you pulled the dagger from my brother?”

Damon smiles sarcastically, “Well, I know how he felt about you, so I figured the more the merrier,” he winks playfully at Elijah.

“Well, Elijah and I have had our share of quarrels over the centuries… but we always make it through,” Klaus takes a bite of his steak.

“Kind of like you and Rebekah, right? Where is she, by the way? Last I checked, she was still daggered because you were afraid to face her,” Stefan quips, smirking over the rim of his bourbon glass.

Damon shoots a warning look at Stefan but you can’t be bothered by their conversation, you’re too focused on your bloody steak in front of you. Savoring the small amount of blood you’d get from its juices.

“If you’re referring to the fact Rebekah knows I killed our mother, I’ve already come clean to Elijah,” Klaus smiles at Elijah who has remained silent, resting his head on top of his fist.

“Hey Stef,” Damon cuts in, grabbing everyone’s attention, “remember when you killed dad? Might want to dial down on the judgement until dessert.”

You had been fighting the urge to lick the dish clean, hoping for just another drop of that delicious, bloody flavor. But Damon’s words distract you, making you look up from the plate.

“You killed dad?” you ask, looking directly at Stefan, he doesn’t verbally answer, only narrowing his eyes at you making you hum, “I always thought it was Katherine…” you fidget with your fork, pushing it across the plate. 

“You want another plate, love?” Klaus asks, his tone was sickeningly sweet, he snaps his fingers and a compelled blonde girl comes running to get your plate.

She leans over you, hair falling past her neck and you could feel the veins beneath your eyes begin to ripple. The girl's eyes widened, Klaus may have compelled her to do his bidding but he never compelled away her fear.

“Y/N,” Klaus says your name in a sing-songy tone, a warning.

Your lips part at the sound of her heart pumping, the smell of the blood in her veins, and your fangs begin to descend.

“Y/N. No,” Klaus tries again, setting his fork down.

But it was too late, you were out of your chair in a split second. You wrapped your hand around the girl’s neck, slamming her into the nearby wall hard enough to crack it, your other hand holding one of her wrists. You nearly moan at the taste of fresh blood, like an animal you can’t get enough.

Removing your hand from her neck, you flatten your palm and push the tip of her chin up until it’s out of your way— effectively breaking her neck. You continue to drink, not caring as the blood stains your mouth and neck, dripping to your dress.

Klaus sighs, “One nice dinner, that’s all I ask, is that too much to ask for?”

He rises from his chair and speeds to stand behind you, “That’s enough.”

You don’t listen and Klaus decides there is only one solution to the problem he caused, snapping your neck. Your head is practically on backwards and he allows your body to fall to the ground next to the blonde, dead girl.

Damon stands up, his chair screeching but Stefan grabs his arm, dragging him back down, and Klaus clears his throat, walking back to the table as if he hadn’t just broke your neck.

Elijah sighs, excusing himself from the table, he picks up your body with ease and brings you back to the table, setting you in your seat. He twists your head so your head is facing the proper way, hoping that it’ll allow you to heal and wake sooner. The dinner would proceed as normal, other than Damon looking at your body every few seconds, it was as if nothing had happened.

When you woke, you were alone at the table and you could hear voices coming from the living room.

“Elijah… why haven’t you left?” Klaus sounds confused.

You stand up, finding your bearings.

You can hear the smugness in Elijah’s tone when he speaks, “You’ve lectured Y/N on her manners all night… but where are yours, brother? We forgot dessert.”

You take slow steps towards the living room.

“What have you done?” Klaus’ voice is panicked, he sounds betrayed.

“What have you done?” Elijah retorts, “You see, I’ve learned not to trust your vulgar promises, Klaus. We’re doing this on my terms now.”

You’ve nearly made it to the living room door way when you stop in your tracks after hearing Klaus utter a single word.

“Kol…”

“Long time brother.”

His voice, Kol’s voice. Your Kol, he was here, he was awake.

You rush to the doorway, freezing when you finally see him. Kol, he looked the same as he did on that fateful night in 1914, still wearing the same outfit. He still looked as beautiful as you remembered him to be, tears began to prick the corner of your eyes but not tears of sadness or fear, they were tears of joy.

You could see Stefan still by the fireplace where he had been burned, you could see Damon standing off to the side of Elijah, but it didn’t matter, you didn’t care about your brothers in that moment. It was as if everything around you faded away and it was just you and Kol.

“Kol…” you whisper, softly.

His gaze snaps up to find you, his eyes softening when he sees you.

“Y/N…”

Without giving it a second thought, Kol takes one of the hands restraining Klaus and uses it to snap the hybrids neck. He speeds towards you, something Damon takes note of but when he moves to get to you, to try and protect you from what he thinks is a threat; Elijah places his hand onto Damon’s chest, stopping him from moving.

You slowly bring your hands up to hold his face and he covers your hands with his, ”You’re real…” you breath out, you still couldn’t believe he was in front of you after all this time.

He smiles, chuckling a bit, “I’m real… and I’m not leaving you ever again.”

You smile, causing more tears to flow and you throw yourself into his arms, nuzzling your face into his neck, squeezing your eyes shut and welcoming the darkness that came with it because for the first time, in a century, you weren’t alone in the dark. You were with Kol, your Kol.

His arms wrap tightly around your waist, inhaling your scent that he remembers so fondly, “I missed you, my darling.”

It must have been those words that finally helped Damon connect the dots, that this was the boy, the one that changed your opinion on vampires, the one who turned you into a vampire. This was the boy you lost a century ago, the boy you’d do anything and everything to get back. Including betraying your own family.

“You’re free to go. This is family business.”

Elijah’s words made Damon realize something, you weren’t his family anymore, you hadn’t been for a long time. Maybe you never officially got married because you ran out of time but you were no longer Y/N Salvatore, you were Y/N Mikaelson. He can pinpoint the exact moment you stopped being his family and it was long before the Mikaelsons, it was when he and Stefan chose Katherine Pierce over you. That fateful night where he told you that you weren’t his family anymore.

The truth hurts and the truth was that there was no fixing your relationship with either of your brothers. The next few months would make that abundantly clear. Like when you snapped Damon’s neck after he snapped Kol’s. Or when you stood by while Kol beat Damon with an aluminum bat. And of course you stood by Rebekah when she had compelled and trapped everyone in the school. You even helped Kol slaughter all of the newly turned vampires meant for Jeremy… and you let Kol torture Damon.

So maybe you really weren’t their family anymore, maybe that’s why they wouldn’t feel as guilty about what was going to happen when Jeremy would kill Kol.

At least you wouldn’t be alone when the darkness came, you would die in the arms of your love in the middle of the Gilbert family kitchen. It didn’t matter to you that his body was still crackingly, still burning, you‘d endure the feeling of your flesh melting to his if it meant you got to hold him one last time. There would be no coming back for either of you, you knew this and accepted it. You closed your eyes and faded away into the darkness, welcoming it.

You only hoped that when you’d wake on the other side, you’d still be in Kol’s arms.

The Darkness.

The End.

His wolf ears perked up when the bell chimed, signaling someone had just walked in. A nasty looking monster walked in, his horrible body odor spreading through the cafe like a thick miasma.

None of that mattered to you, though. You politely greeted him, smiling as you gestures towards your menu. “Welcome, what would you like, sir?”

“Hey, toots. Black coffee and some of those bagels, stat.”

You blinked in surprise, about to say something before Tobias spoke up. “Don’t talk to her like that, she’s a lady.”

The werewolf was barely holding himself back from jumping up and beating the guy, he just wanted to keep the peace and make sure you weren’t mistreated.

“I wasn’t talking to you, was I, mutt? Now get ya ass back there and make me a damn coffee!”

He raised his hand, about to slap your ass before Tobias caught it mid swing. The sound of bones snapping filled the air, and Tobias began to shift right in front of you.

“I’m not mutt, and you should never even try to lay a hand on her, you hear me?”

The monster screamed, pulling back his scaley wrist in agony before running out the door, cursing the entire time.

“Wow… Toby, you saved me.”

Your cheeks heated up, and you smiled fondly at the man as his fur settled down. Slowly, his body shrank and he was back in his usual human form.

“That’s probably what had me on edge earlier, I could smell the bad vibes from a mile away.”

He sipped on his protein shake, his tail wagging while you smiled at him. Did you know how pretty you were, with your plump cheeks and twinkling eyes?

“I really appreciate it… is there anything I can do to repay you?”

His tail thumped against the booth he was seated in, and he swallowed as he looked up at you. “Well… I enjoy your baking… would you mind coming by my place and teaching me a recipe or two?”

It was clear he just wanted to spend time with you, the person he was crushing on, but you didn’t notice. “Oh, sure! I can come over after work.”

“Sure!”

“It’s a date!”

When he walked out, you sank behind the cash register, hands over your warm cheeks as you squealed.

It was kind of like a date, right? In your mind, he just wanted to bake with you, but to you it was a date!

Once you were home, you scoured through your closet, struggling to find something cute to wear that you thought Tobias might like.

After 30 minutes of trying on clothes and tossing them aside, you decided on something simple and comfortable to bake in that would also be appropriate for a possible date.

You stood outside his door, a parasol keeping the fading sunlight off of your skin. After knocking, you heard some rummaging before footsteps approached you.

Tobias answered his front door, wearing only a bag of sweatpants. Sweat dropped down his toned, tan chest and his tail picked up speed when his eyes met yours.

“Hey, sorry I’m still a bit sweaty from my work out. You smell- I mean you look nice.”

You were too busy staring at his glistening pecs to notice his slip of the tongue. “Ahh, thank you…”

He smiled, wiping his brow before stepping aside. “Come on in, I cleaned up the kitchen a minute ago!”

You bit back a laugh, spotting crumpled baking supplies sitting on the counter. Rolling up your sleeves, you got to work whipping up something sweet.

He hovered behind you, watching with great interest as you cracked another egg into the bowl. It was hard to concentrate when you could almost hear his warm blood rushing through his veins, only aggravated by his post workout scent.

You were definitely aroused, but tried to play it off… Tobias, however, knew your scent was off.

You yelped when he suddenly started to sniff at your neck, moving down your back. “T-Toby, what are you-“

He stopped, his cheeks reddening as he stepped back. “Sorry, I forgot that uh… that’s not normal for non-werewolves…”

He looked away shyly, scratching the back of his head. “You just… smell different.”

His tail wagged, and he tried his best to hide his boner as you continued. Tobias was truly a sweet guy with good intention, he was just a bit of a himbo.

The werewolf followed you around like an oversized puppy, his tail knocking over random objects in the kitchen. Although he was making a mess, you couldn’t help but find him cute. Getting to see him at home where he was comfortable felt like a treat to you!

The sexual tension was rising by the second, and you both felt your arousal growing. Tobias still hadn’t put on a shirt, but he was a little ditsy so you couldn’t blame him for forgetting.

“Hey…” Tobias called out as you put the pie in the oven. “Do you… wanna stay for a movie or something?”

Your eyes widened, and you looked over at the blushing werewolf. Although you wanted nothing more than to stay with him a little longer…

“Sorry, I have to feed tonight. If I don’t drink enough blood I get woozy.”

For a moment, Tobias looked disappointed, but suddenly his face lit up. “Just drink from me!”

Your undead heart leapt into your throat as you struggled to comprehend what he just said. There was no way Tobias knew how intimate it was to drink from someone else, you knew that, but it made your plump thighs tremble regardless.

“A-alright… I guess I can do that.”

He sat on the couch, looking up at you with those big blue eyes of his. “Is this an okay position?”

You nodded slowly, climbing into his lap. He blinked, smiling widely as you pushed his dark hair away from his neck. “Y-yeah, it’ll hurt for just a second…”

Your fangs extended, glinting in the faint light of his living room before you leaned forward to plunge them into his neck.

“F-fuck!”

His large hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you down onto his lap until you could feel the bulge in his pants.

Tobias let out a growl, your flustered expression unseen by the werewolf as he began to move you against his bulge.

“Sorry… just… got all worked up, you know?”

You continued to drink, and his tail wagged when he noticed you rocking your hips with him. When you were full, you pulled away and panted softly, blood dripping down your chin.

Tobias leaned forward and licked it off, his blue eyes cloudy with lust. “… how about you just stay the night?”

Neither of you were thinking much as you made the way to his bedroom, you were too busy locking lips. His tongue entered your mouth, and he pinned you against the wall.

“God, I’ve wanted this for a long time…” he said, staring down at you like a lovesick puppy. “You’re just perfect…”

“You… wanted me?”

All those days spent pining after him, wanting nothing more than to feel his muscular frame against your soft one… you could have had him all along!?

“Let’s not waste any time then!”

You surprised Tobias with your strength when you pulled him along to the bedroom, his ears flicking and tail wagging enthusiastically. He was just a needy puppy that was excited to have you all to himself!

Within seconds you were in nothing but the lingerie you picked out to wear underneath your clothes. Tobias’s cock strained against his sweatpants as he drooled.

“You look amazing… want…”

He sat at the edge of the bed, laying on his belly as he positioned his head between your legs. “Need…”

Tobias pulled the lacy fabric to the side, humping the bed like a desperate dog as he took in your pussy’s scent for the first time.

He lapped at one of your puffy lips, his pupils displaying before he buried his face between your thighs and began eating you out.

You bucked your hips tugging on his hair and moaning while he looked up at you with pussy drunk eyes. Tobias found the way you whimpered and tried to cover your face as he devoured your chubby pussy absolutely adorable.

His tongue moved over your swollen clit, stimulating it as his fingers pumped in and out of you. You could already see a wet spot forming on his sweatpants, knowing werewolves came a lot.

“Wanna… wanna mate…”

Tobias climbed up, panting as he pulled the waistband down and let his cock spring free. It was huge, pulsing, and twitching.

“T-Toby… I wanna mate with you too…”

You whimpered, feeling him press against you. The tip of his cock was already pressing into your cunt, and the stretch was… pleasant.

Your nails dug into his back, leaving long scratches in his thick skin. Tobias was stretching you out nice and slow, keeping one of his fingers on your clit.

“That’s it, that’s my little mate…”

He moved his hips at a moderate place, playing with your nipples and clit to stimulate you. You had the urge to feed, to bite down on him, and when Tobias noticed he leaned forward so you could sink your teeth into his shoulder.

The man was a werewolf, he could take some blood loss, and the idea of you biting and marking his body ruled him up.

“That’s it, mark me up… f-fuck, gonna stuff you full alright?”

Another growl rumbled in his chest and he lifted your hips so he could fuck deeper into you. “G-gonna breed you, okay? Gotta have my pups, you’ll give me a litter won’t you?”

Watching your pussy stretch around his cock, squeezing it when you came was enough to have the man groaning with pleasure. You pulled back from his neck to kiss him, letting your tongue twirl around one another before he turned you so you could lie on your soft belly.

Your face squished against the pillow, and now Tobias could properly mount his mate. His cock twitched inside you as your plump ass rippled with each thrust.

“Gonna cum!”

Tobias groaned out, completely lost in the feeling of your pussy. His seed spilled into your belly, filling you up completely.

He slumped over you, a low purring emanating from his body. When you started to move, he used his weight to keep you still.

“Don’t move… gonna knot you…”

Before you could ask, you yelped at the feeling of his cock swelling up inside of you. You could barely take it, panting softly as a bulge formed in your belly.

He cooed, rubbing the bulge before moving the toe of you into a better position. Tobias cuddled you from behind, leaving bites and kisses on your neck.

“Knotting… I forgot about that part,” you murmured. Do to having a crush on Tobias, you had done some naughty research into werewolf sex that involved a lot of porn and masturbation.

“Mmph, that's the best part… now we’re locked up for the next hour.”

The two of you ended falling asleep long before the swelling went down, and from then on you had yourself a boyfriend.

Work became even more fun… especially when no one was in the cafe.

“B-but what if someone hears us?”

“We’ll be quiet, it’ll be okay.”

You pouted, unable to deny your cute boyfriend when his tail was wagging and his cock was pressed against your dripping pussy. Sure, the cafe was empty, but what if someone walked in?

He fucked into you carefully, sighing as you tried your best to keep your eye on the door while peeking out of the bathroom. Tobias covered your mouth to muffle your moans, leaning down to nip at your neck and lick the marks he left.

“My good little mate, taking me so well… you’re all wet, getting excited at the thought of getting caught, huh?”

You bit your lip, letting out a needy whine as he groped your tits. “You’re insatiable, this is the third time this week…”

“Hey, I can’t help that I’m in rut, and when I smell you getting all aroused when I visit it gets me going!”

Tobias came inside of you, nearly making the two of you top over as he relaxed and rested his weight on you.

Now, you were stuck taking orders from customers who could smell the werewolf’s musky cum on you. It was embarrassing, and they wouldn’t look you in the eye.

“That was on purpose, wasn’t it?”

Tobias grinned as he drove you home after work, and it was hard to stay mad at your sweet himbo. “Can’t have any getting the wrong idea and trying to court my little vampire mate.”

You huffed, then laughed a bit when he gave you puppy dog eyes. “Yeah, I guess not.”

You never thought your crush would like you back, but now you had a great boyfriend and you couldn’t ask for anything better.

————————

Anaxa knew the look—your pupils dilating, fangs pressing faintly into your lower lip, that restless shiver in your body like a violin string strung too tightly. He leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled, watching you from across the study as if he had orchestrated this moment.

“You’re trembling,” he remarked dryly, voice smooth as ink bleeding over parchment. “Or is it hunger? I do wonder which one you despise more—your craving or your restraint.”

You tried to protest, but the sharp tang of his golden blood whispered from memory, and your control snapped. In a blur, you were on him, straddling his lap, your lips grazing the line of his throat. He didn’t flinch. Didn’t push you away. If anything, he tilted his head, exposing more skin, the golden-threaded eyepatch glinting in the candlelight.

“Careful, little revenant,” he murmured, one hand sliding to your waist, the other curling in your hair. “Every time you pounce like this, you risk proving them right—that I am a corrupter, a heretic. Feeding you, indulging you, teaching you to crave what is forbidden.”

But his words only made you shudder harder. His scent, his warmth—everything about him was intoxicating. You sank your fangs into his neck, and the taste of his blood was like fire and symphony all at once. Bitter and divine. Forbidden, yes—but utterly irresistible.

He hissed softly, though it was less pain than pleasure. “Ah… reckless. Greedy. Beautifully foolish.” His fingers tightened, nails biting your skin through fabric. “Do you know what you’re drinking, beloved? Not mere sustenance, but rebellion itself. My very damnation.”

You whimpered against his throat, feeding, unable to stop. His heartbeat thundered under your lips, steady and unyielding, and every swallow was like a secret he let you share.

When finally you tore back, breathless, blood staining your lips, he laughed lowly. Not mocking—something darker, more intimate. He brushed his thumb along your mouth, smearing gold across your cheek.

“Look at you,” he whispered, eye blazing with fire. “Addicted, yes… but not to my blood alone. To me. To the truth I embody, the heresy I cradle. You’d burn yourself on my flame again and again just to taste it.”

You wanted to deny it, but he kissed you instead—slow, devastating, tasting his own blood on your tongue. And when he pulled back, lips golden, he whispered against your skin:

“Take it. Take as much as you need. Let the world brand me damned if it means keeping you alive.”

And you knew, no matter how dangerous this addiction became, he would never deny you.

Phainon was the kind of man whose presence eased storms, and yet—you were the storm that broke against him.

It had been days since you last fed. Your restraint was thinning into threads, and he saw it. He always saw. His eyes softened when your hands trembled, when you avoided his gaze, when you pressed your back to the wall as if distance might protect him from your hunger.

“You’re suffering,” he said gently, kneeling before you despite the sheer power he radiated. His hand reached for yours, warm and steady. “You don’t have to bear it alone. Not with me.”

The words cracked something inside you. Before you could stop yourself, you lunged, knocking him onto his back. Your fangs grazed his throat, your body shaking with desperation. For a heartbeat, you feared he would shove you away, call you monster.

Instead, Phainon’s arms came around you—secure, grounding. “It’s all right,” he whispered. “If my blood will keep you standing, then drink. I’ll endure it a thousand times if it means you won’t suffer.”

You sank your fangs in, and the taste nearly made you weep. His blood was warmth incarnate, sunlight poured into mortal form. Not burning, not violent—just radiant, filling every hollow place in your soul. It was too much. It was everything.

Phainon groaned softly, his breath hot against your ear, but he didn’t resist. He only stroked your back, murmuring reassurances even as you fed. “Steady… breathe with me. You’re safe. You won’t break me. I’m yours to lean on.”

When at last you pulled away, tears streaked your face. “I… I can’t control it. I’ll hurt you. I’ll take too much.”

He lifted your chin, his smile aching with tenderness. “You could drain every drop from me, and I’d still rise for you. Because my flame doesn’t burn for myself—it burns for the people I love. For you.”

The confession hung heavy, raw. You trembled, whispering that you didn’t deserve his devotion.

Phainon only leaned forward, pressing his forehead to yours. “Then let me be undeserved. Let me be the fool who gives everything, even my blood, because you’re worth more than my fear.”

And when he kissed you, lips lingering with the faint taste of copper, you realized he wasn’t just your flame—he was your dawn.

Mydeimos was not a man easily taken off guard. His instincts were sharp, honed in battlefields drenched with blood. Yet even he couldn’t always anticipate you when your hunger snapped its leash.

The first time you lunged at him, he caught you by the throat in a single, crushing grip—eyes blazing gold, his voice a low growl. “Control yourself.”

But then he saw it—the desperation in your gaze, the trembling restraint, the way you shook as if tearing yourself apart from the inside. His grip faltered. His chest rose and fell heavily.

“…Damn it,” he muttered, before dragging your body flush against his. “If you must feed, then do it. But do it on me—and me alone.”

You gasped at his words, but your fangs sank into the heated skin of his shoulder before you could think. His blood roared across your tongue like wildfire, molten and unyielding, every drop steeped in struggle and survival. It wasn’t gentle nor intoxicating—but it was battle itself. A kingdom’s grief. A lion’s roar.

Mydei’s hand buried in your hair, forcing you closer as if daring you to take more. His growl vibrated through your bones. “Greedy little beast… You think I’ll break? I’ve endured worse than hunger. If my blood chains you to me, then so be it.”

You fed until you thought you’d drown in his essence. When you pulled back, panting, he was flushed, his markings burning brighter, blood dripping from his skin. And yet, his eyes blazed with something fiercer than anger.

Desire. Claim. Defiance.

“Listen to me,” he said, cupping your face. “You will not pounce on strangers. You will not crawl to anyone else when the thirst consumes you. You come to me. Always me. Do you understand?”

You nodded, dazed and trembling.

His thumb brushed the corner of your mouth, smearing ichor across your lips before he leaned down and kissed you, savage and unyielding, tasting of iron and fire.

When he finally broke away, he pressed his forehead to yours, voice hoarse but certain:

“If you’re addicted, then let it be an addiction you bear with me. I’ll shoulder the hunger, the pain, the ruin. Because I am yours, and you—” his lips brushed yours again, “—are mine.”

Jackson had been good to you. 

Better than most places ever could be. Though people mostly kept to themselves, when they didn’t it was always out of kindness. A jar left on your porch, sealed and waiting or a quiet nod at the market, a smile passed in the street. They all knew what you were—there was no hiding that sort of truth in a town this small, in a world this desolate. There weren’t many like you left, not anymore, with skin cold as porcelain and the skull-splitting ache any time the sun lingered too long on your shoulders.

Even so, folks didn’t often stop by with warm pies or loaves of bread. Food like that was just mud in your mouth now. Instead, the community collected donations from time to time, blood sealed in containers for you or a kill from the mountains if patrols had been fortunate. It kept you content and contained inside the walls they trusted you to protect. Because you were an asset to the community. A killer who could not be killed by the bite of infection, nor by the spray of bullets. It would take much more to put you down. That was why you were always the first to step forward when a patrol needed filling, when a sweep had to be done, when danger lingered just beyond the gates.

That was how you met Joel Miller. A man cut from the same cloth as you, though human through and through. Surly, sour, impossible at first. But hours spent across the wild countryside, nights crouched back to back in ruined houses, days with nothing but the sound of his boots behind you—it carved something out between you. Beneath the gruffness, beneath the walls he stacked around himself, you came to know him as a soft hearted old man with a daughter who wasn’t his but who he carried like blood.

It had been a storm wrecked night when everything changed, when you and Joel fought shoulder to shoulder against a horde, bodies pressed tight in the rain, your hunger gnawing as deep as your exhaustion. He saw it on you. He could hear it in the way your breath caught, in the rasp of your voice. He offered, when you had settled in an old, empty lodge, that you take what you needed. 

You'd protested, but his voice had been low and insistent, as if he'd known you didn’t have much energy left in you to get anywhere, let alone home the next day. You'd caved and begged him to find a cup, anything, but Joel only shook his head, set his knife to his wrist, and had held it out to you. 

There had only ever been a handful of times a human had offered you blood straight from the source. Long ago, when you were newly reborn and still naive, you’d learned how dangerous it was: the bite flooding your senses, heat rushing through your veins, the taste warm and metallic on your tongue, each swallow carrying a heartbeat as if you’d taken their soul whole.

And once the bite was taken, it became a tether, an obsession for both prey and predator. For them, your venom was heroin—sweet and burning, flooding their blood with so much dopamine and lust they would shake without it, craved you like breath itself. And it more than just the venom—they craved you. Your body, your heat, the grip of your thighs, the drag of your hands. Anything you gave, they would take with sheer desperation, as if their hunger would never be satisfied without your flesh. It wasn’t enough to be bitten; they needed to be inside you, needed to claim and be claimed, rutting against you until the lines between thirst and lust were obliterated.

Choice slipped away the second your fangs sank in. Willpower dissolved, replaced with need so sharp it hollowed them out. They dreamed of it, woke starving for it, every nerve in their body rewired to chase the next hit.

And for you, their blood was no less ruinous. It was opium in your veins, hot and dizzying, leaving you restless and wet, clenching down on nothing, the ache unbearable the second it was gone. Every swallow dragged you closer to frenzy, every taste pushing you from hunger to heat, from thirst to lust until you couldn’t tell one from the other. For a long time, you pretended you could control it, that you could stop if you wished, but the truth was simpler, uglier: once you had tasted each other, it became a habit neither of you could break.

Feeding meant fucking, fucking meant feeding. One always bled into the other, insatiable.

So, you had sworn it off. You had sworn never to risk someone’s will again, never to take that choice away. Once it began, there would be no stopping.

And Joel…Joel didn’t deserve that. He didn’t know. But he was so insistent, and his blood smelled so god damn tempting, red and shining like the apple of Eden itself. The moment he'd pressed the knife down and a few droplets welled on his skin that night, you broke.

You remembered it vaguely, the haze of the high surmounting any memory. You’d crawled to him, slowly, hesitating, knowing, trying to explain. But he didn’t seem to care, he seemed already under the spell, under your stupid unconscious bewitchment. It was built in you to entrance prey, every detail of you meant to lure: the voice pitched just right, the scent that betrayed their instincts, the unnatural beauty that made it hard to look away. It wasn’t magic, but it might as well have been. Like biology had honed and manipulated into a weapon no human could resist. Joel wasn't any different, his eyes heavy on you, his chest rising fast as if he were already caught.

And the moment your mouth closed around him, it happened just as you feared, or perhaps just as you wanted. His blood was hot and wild on your tongue, and when your venom bled into him his whole body jolted, a guttural moan breaking loose. The rush hit both of you at once, hormones crashing like a wave, lust blinding, hunger unbearable. It didn’t take long for things to change, for his cock to become thick and straining and your center to throb and gush with need.

It didn’t stop that night. Once you had him, you couldn’t stay away. And neither could he. Again and again, you found yourself tangled with him. Your lips at his veins—and fuck, if they weren’t the most decadent and bulging veins you’d ever seen—his hands already on you as if waiting for it all day. You told yourself he wanted it all the same, just as much as you needed him. Because his blood lit something inside of you that no jar, no animal, no half hearted substitute could ever touch. Once you got a taste of Joel Miller, you ended up taking the rest of him too. 

It became a rhythm, a ritual, a kind of fever that lived between you. He would come find you, almost every other day if you weren’t already spending the time together. He’d come to fix the little things in your home or you’d come over to help him renovate Ellie’s garage. You were often paired together on patrols and stakeouts. And every time it ended the same. One of you pleading for more, barely even having to utter the words before the other agreed in sweet, breathless relief. When your teeth broke his skin, he would already be pushing you down into the mattress, already inside you, already moving with the same desperation that left your body aching for days after. You marked him everywhere, and in return he claimed every surface of your home—bending you over the counter, grinding you into the couch cushions, fucking you on the kitchen table, the floor, the bed, the chair by the fire. It was never enough. The hunger was endless, the sex relentless, each bite and each thrust feeding the other until you were both wrecked and reaching for more. 

It was insatiable between you, an obsession neither of you could quit.

Soon, he would be covered in the marks you left, faint crescents at his throat, his wrist, his hands, the bruise of your mouth blooming purple. Tommy noticed once, scaring the shit out of him. And he told Maria, and she told the rest of the council. Fear and whispers followed, and so you had to be more careful, leaving them in secret beneath the collar or on his inner thighs.

The end came abruptly, the way it often did in this world. Neither of you cruel, neither of you wrong, but you couldn’t escape the truth of what you were. You couldn’t stop wondering if he wanted you because of his own desire or because of the pull of your venom, the way your kind was made to ensnare, to addict. Every time you came down from the high of the bite, the thought haunted you: was it really him, or just the spell of it all? You hated the idea that you had stolen his choice, that his hunger for you wasn’t his own.

So you told yourself it was manipulation. You told yourself you had no right to take what was never meant to be given. And when the fear of that outweighed any other thoughts, you ended it for his sake. Better to walk away and carry the ache of losing him than keep him shackled to a bond he never chose.

One spring night, with the air warming at last and you ready for bed in skimpy cotton shorts and an oversized tee, you stood at the sink rinsing the cloudy jars from the latest round of donations. This batch from a girl named Dina, and you could still taste her lingering on your tongue. Her blood had been grounding—like black tea steeped long, sweetened with a drizzle of honey. There was an earthy floralness to it, something soft and kind, a reflection of the girl herself, as if generosity had dredged straight into her veins. You were grateful for it, as you always were, grateful to be kept alive by the town’s offerings. But even as the congealed cold taste faded from your mouth, you could feel the hollowness remain. It dulled the edge of hunger without ever truly sating it, a meal that filled the stomach but left the body restless, hollow.

Your gums had been throbbing all the while you drank her down, because what you craved wasn’t the floral sweetness of a friend’s kindness sealed away in glass. What you craved was the heat of a living body pressed close, the rush of warm blood spilling wild and unfiltered into your mouth, the taste you’d come to know too well. What you craved was him.

When the knock landed on your door, low and heavy, you already knew. Sighing, you dried your hands against the dishcloth, and pulled it open to find the man who had haunted every swallow, the man your teeth had been aching for all along. 

Joel Miller, standing in your doorway, the cool light of evening behind him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you spit out before you could collect yourself. He just made you so damn mean sometimes. 

The scent hit you before the sight did—blood, fresh and sharp, carried on the air. Your eyes searched him in the dying light of the day, wondering if he’d cut himself at the barn or on some patrol. Worry prickled at you, sharp as hunger.

“Look—I—I know we ain't really…” He trailed off as his eyes found yours, and rubbed at his beard, eyes shifting, “Damn.”

“What?”

“I had a whole damn speech prepared. Practiced it on the way over and everythin’.” 

“Let’s hear it.”

“That’s the thing.” He huffed out a laugh, cheeks flushing. The sight of it made your throat burn, your tongue suddenly parched. “You’ve done it again. Twitterpated me outta words, sweetheart. Always had a way with makin’ me stupid, huh?”

And that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? You felt like you’d used him, twisted him into wanting you, when in his right mind he should have known it was the chemical balance of you and him that made him feel this way. Your kind had been born beautiful, alluring, designed to be everything a human wanted. Your scent alone could fog their minds, and once your bite sank in, once your venom spread, it was more potent than any drug. You were their ecstasy, their heroin.

“Joel…” you murmured, shaking your head.

“I just missed you, that's all. ” he said softly. “Been thinkin’ of you. Know them donations never do it for ya, that the animal blood tastes like crap—Here, I even—” He lifted his palm, and the sight of it struck you like a blow. The smell invaded you then, overwhelming. Your fangs itched, your lips parted.

“Jesus Christ,” you gasped, pushing all the instincts down as you stared at the gash across his hand. It was clumsy, desperate, something done in haste. “What the hell did you do?”

“Please, honey,” he said, eyes gone so soft, too much like a plea.

In your century of life, you’d learned to keep your distance from humans. Their lives were brief, flickering things, bright one moment and gone the next, and you had stopped trying to hold on after the first few times left you hollow. Fascinating creatures, yes—brutal, resilient, endlessly inventive—but too small, too fleeting to tie yourself to. You had told yourself it was better that way, cleaner that way.

And then there was him.

This grizzled old man with his twang and his steady hands, who smelled of earth and leather and sweat, who gave and gave and gave. Who had started out mean as anything, mean as you, and somewhere along the way, your cold, dead heart had softened, aching in ways you hadn’t thought possible anymore. He was the one you shouldn’t have let close, but did. The one you couldn’t seem to turn away from, no matter how much it hurt to try. And in turn, you did the same to him. Made him gentle, tender, loving.

Damn him.

You grabbed his wrist and tugged him inside, setting him down on the dining chair that groaned beneath his weight. You ran for the first aid kit and returned, kneeling to the ground as your stomach churned.

He watched you with that half quirked expression of his, though a grimace shadowed it.

“What?” you muttered.

“Nothin’.”

“Spit it out, Miller.”

“S’just…this damn chair is killin’ my back, baby, I’m sorry.”

You rolled your eyes and helped him into the armchair by the hearth. His bulk sank into it, familiar, unbearable. You cradled his palm, dabbed antiseptic, wrapped him as gently as you could. All the while, your gums throbbed, your fangs pressing sharp in your mouth. He smelled like home, like oak and heat and everything you had sworn you would not take.

“How’ve you been?” Joel asked softly, watching you. Even his breath wafting over you was intoxicating. And there was something like tender delight in his eyes now. 

You huffed a quiet, “Fine.”

You’d been anything but fine, truly. But you had to be good, had to keep him at a distance. It was what was best for him. For his mind, his soul.

“You told me once,” he quietly, a small twitch of a smile to his lips, “That gettin’ them donations is a bit like eatin’ tofu,” he chuckled the rest of it, “at an all you can eat buffet.”

You bound his hand with a snug knot, ignoring him. 

“Thought this would talk me into it, huh?” you muttered, glaring down at the clumsy gash. “Think I’ve got no self-control?”

Joel huffed another laugh, rough and low, eyes dragging over you with something hungrier than pain. “Got it the other way ’round, darlin’,” he said. “Ain’t you with no control. It’s me. Always been me.”

And God help you, he smelled so fucking good. The sharp iron of his blood mixed with the salt of sweat, the musk of leather, the warmth of him still heavy in the air. It hit you in tides, dizzying, until your mouth flooded with venom, until it was all you could do not to lean down and sink into him where he sat.

And he must’ve seen it, that shift in your eyes, that hunger you always had for him. Not just the sharp craving for blood running hot in his veins, but the ache you carried for all of him: his mind, his body, his soul. The man himself. Joel sank deeper into the chair, shoulders heavy, his bandaged hand spreading over his thigh in that steady, wordless invitation.

“Know I’m a damn fool, still wantin’ you this bad. Makin’ excuses to see ya,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked. “S’just been awful without ya.” he took a deep breath, his eyes darkening as he watched you, “Why don’t you come sit on my lap like old times, huh? Let me feel you close.”

The words were bad enough, but paired with the heat of his blood and the scent rolling off him in thick, intoxicating waves, it was unbearable. Copper and salt, sweat and leather, that deep, rich musk that was all Joel. It hit the back of your throat, filled your lungs, left your gums aching so bad you could hardly think. You felt yourself leaning, body betraying you, drawn like prey even when you knew damn well which one of you was meant to be dangerous.

Quickly, as if your brain were possessed, you climbed onto his lap like a little succubus, knees bracketing his hips, sinking deep into the worn seat cushion as your hands clutched at his shoulders. You buried your face in the thicket of his beard, inhaling him like smoke.

“You smell so good,” you whispered.

His arms wrapped around you then, strong and sure, locking you against him. You could feel the breadth of him beneath you as your breasts pushed into his chest, the thickness of his lap already stirring with heat.

“You do too, baby,” he murmured, lips grazing your neck until they found the shell of your ear, “why don’t you go on and take what you need, hm? I’m right here. Know you’re hungry, honey.”

But you had to know, you had to. Your voice cracked, torn between need and fear as you nuzzled against his carotid artery. “Tell me you don’t just want me for this. Tell me it’s more—tell me it’s not just the venom, that you—”

His hand wrapped into your hair at the base of your skull, dragging your head back so you were forced to look at him. The grip was rough, almost punishing, and it ripped a snarl out of your throat. Your fangs glinted as your lips curled, your body coiled tight as wire in his lap, but you clawed at his shirt anyway, begging for the truth.

“It is more,” Joel ground out, every word guttural. “Even before the bite, I wanted you. Always did. Don’t give a damn what your venom does—I’d still want you. I missed you. I need you close. This—” his hand tightened until your scalp burned—“this is just a goddamn perk. What I feel for you? That’s mine. I love you.”

Your mouth trembled, tears burning hot at the corners of your eyes, and when he loosened his grip it was only to smooth a hand through your hair, guiding you down against him. You collapsed into his chest, nuzzling the rough plane of his neck, keening helplessly at the sound of his praise, at the unbearable gentleness in a man who had never been gentle with anyone else.

“I love you, Joel,” you whispered, the words breaking in your throat.

And then you bit.

Skin parted under your fangs and his blood rushed over your tongue, scalding, intoxicating, so alive you nearly sobbed from the taste. Joel jerked beneath you, a hiss ripped from his teeth before it melted into a deep, carnal moan that vibrated against your lips. His arms crushed you tighter, grinding your body into his as his cock surged hard beneath you. You moaned around the mouthful of him, desperate, delirious, and rocked against his lap as though the bite itself had stripped away the last of your restraint.

The taste of him was nothing like the jars in your cooler, nothing like Dina’s honeyed sweetness or the other bland, congealed donations. Joel was thick and heady on your tongue, like dark molasses, like whiskey pulled from a charred barrel. He was smoke and oak and something aged, worn, and strong enough to make your head swim. There was grit to him, as if his years and scars had steeped into his veins, but beneath that, warmth bloomed slow and heavy, a richness that filled every inch of you. You could taste the life he’d lived, the battles fought, the quiet tenderness he tried so hard to bury.

Joel’s hips shifted beneath you, his cock swelling hard where you straddled him. You ground down helplessly, your own moan tangled with his as the taste of him became too much, overwhelming every sense until you were drowning in Joel Miller.

He held your head tighter, his fingers threading into your hair again, gentler now, pulling you closer as he whispered hoarsely, “That’s it, baby girl. That’s it.”

He was rocking his lap up into you, shameless in the way he chased friction, grinding you down against the thick press of his cock beneath his jeans. Each push dragged the seam of your pajama bottoms across your clit, the wet spot growing hotter, slick soaking through until you could feel the perfect outline of his denim clad member as you slid against him. You moaned into his skin, mouth slick with blood, the taste of him coating your tongue while the scent of him filled every corner of your lungs.

You writhed on him, pressing down harder, chasing the sharp sparks of pleasure. Joel groaned brokenly, chest heaving under your breasts. “Baby, please—please, can I—can I please? Don’t even gotta move, don’t gotta do nothin’, just—just wanna feel you,” he babbled, begging, voice ragged, hips bucking beneath you, “let me feel that sweet pussy around me, please,”

Your haze was all consuming, tongue dragging over his throat as you pulled back just enough to nod, lips smeared red as you kissed his collarbone, his jaw, anywhere you could reach. 

“Yes, yes,” you said, voice thick with the taste of him, “Need it, need you,”

Joel growled softly, shifting your body with a practiced grip, one hand fumbling into his jeans. His cock sprang heavy into the space between you, thick and flushed, the feel of it making your mouth water almost as much as his blood had.

He hooked a finger into the slick gusset of your little shorts, yanking them to the side. The swollen head of him dragged through your slick seam, catching on your clit, smearing you open until you whined high and sharp, licking the remnants of the bite from your lips.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he groaned, head tipping back against the chair, throat bared to you.

You reached down with your hand and lined him up, a hiss escaping him at the touch and the thick crown nudged at your entrance. When you bit down again—harder this time—Joel rasped out a sound that was half pain, half desperate pleasure. His whole body jolted as you sank down on him in one shuddering slide, every inch stretching you full until you were seated flush in his lap.

You both froze there, gasping, moaning, the only sound the wet suck of your body taking him in and the ragged chorus of your breathing. His blood still filled your mouth, warm and thick, until the hunger in you blurred into a dazed ecstasy. Your brain went quiet, shut down by the taste of him, the feel of him, the sheer overwhelming flood of him.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Joel chanted, his mouth agape, his hips trying in vain to stay still beneath you. It was no matter, because you were rocking yours, every swing nudging him around your tight heat. You rose up, and fell down, making him grunt in pleasure. 

You moaned, guttural, feral, needy as your jaw stayed clamped to him, drinking him down. His blood was hotter, filled with so much dopamine it made your brain turn to fuzz, your instincts claiming your head more than your humanity. You rode his cock harder and harder, skin slapping, arousal leaking and staining his denim. You could feel his arms around you, so fucking warm like a furnace, keeping you in pace with his own hips that pushed up into you. 

He spread his legs wider, forcing your knees further apart, the slight hitch of pain stretching your hips enough to make you unlatch your teeth and throw your head back. You knew he loved this view, of blood dripping down from your mouth, down your neck, your eyes gone red with the fill of him.

“Oh fuck,” Joel grunted, squeezing your waist now, pushing you down as you kept up the pace, your hands on his shoulders to anchor your rythm, “Keep goin, baby, you’re doin’ great, feels like fuckin’ heaven.”

“Joel—“ you mewled, head arching back with the climb of your release, your belly convulsing and hips aching with the build until you could barely take it anymore.

Joel reached up, his hand gripping you behind your neck and brought you back down to him, “Just a little more, darlin’, c’mon now, don’t make me beg,”

You would’ve laughed if you weren’t so fucking lost in your mania. Moaning, your jaw unhinged and you took the biggest bite you could grab on his carotid artery. He gushed for you, filling your mouth with so much fucking testosterone and lust it had your eyes rolling back in your skull. Your brain split in half, white light sparking behind your eyes as you came undone, slamming down on him harder until he was coming inside of you with a long, low grunt, his breath sharp and short.

And as you came down, still rocking in a slow, rolling sway, soothing yourself as you drank from him, the world blurred into heat and taste and pulse. Somewhere through the haze you heard his voice, rough and breaking.

“Baby, think you’re—” his breath hitched, shallower now, “think you’re takin’ too much, honey, you’re… ah…ah…”

And with a final sigh, he went limp under you.

You smelled them before the door even opened.

The scent pressed through the crack like a heavy fog, clinging to the air around you. It wasn’t warmth or adrenaline or anything human—just thick, metallic pressure that coated your tongue. By the time the handle turned, the taste of their stress was already stinging your mouth.

Dick entered first, trying to smile as if he wasn’t barely holding himself upright. His jaw was tight, his shoulders pulled so rigidly that they looked ready to snap.

“Hey… you haven’t eaten in three days,” he said softly, voice trying and failing to sound gentle. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes.

Hunger clawed at you, tightening your chest until your breath trembled. Your vision burned red at the edges, but the thought of feeding made your stomach twist in protest. You shook your head, hoping the motion alone would explain everything. It didn’t.

“Why didn’t you take the blood bags?” Dick asked again, quieter this time.

“I don’t like stored blood,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. “I’d rather drink animal blood… even though I hate that too.” The words tasted as tired as you felt.

Tim stepped forward, worry creasing his brows. “Then why didn’t you just ask us?” he asked. His tone was gentle, confused, and painfully sincere.

Your body tensed at the suggestion. The memory of that awful night—when instinct overtook you and you bit one of them, shot through your mind like a knife. You could still taste the shock, the bitterness, the metallic sting that forced you back into yourself. “I can’t,” you whispered. “Your blood is… bitter.”

Silence fell instantly, thick and heavy. Jason shifted first, his voice rough like gravel scraping the floor. “Bitter? Like what—old coffee? Poison?” he asked, half-joking but mostly worried.

You closed your eyes, searching for the right words. “It tastes like burnt iron,” you said slowly. “Like your bodies are running on fumes. Like everything inside you is worn down to nothing.” Your voice sounded small, even to yourself.

Tim’s face twitched, somewhere between realization and embarrassment. “So we’re… flavor-contaminated?” he muttered. You nodded, because honestly, that was the nicest way to put it.

Tim went quiet after that, staring at the floor like he was reconsidering every decision that led him to this moment. The others looked between you and him, as if waiting for someone else to break the tension. You wished you could soften the truth, but the bitter tang of their stress still lingered on your tongue. There was no kinder way to explain it.

Dick rubbed the back of his neck, trying to smile again, though it wobbled at the edges. “Okay… so we’re stressed, and that makes us taste like garbage. Got it.” His attempt at optimism only made the room feel heavier. You hated how accurate his words sounded.

Jason tilted his head, studying you with narrowed eyes. “And this isn’t, like… a preference thing? We’re actually that bad?” The disbelief in his voice carried more hurt than he meant to show. You nodded again, slow and apologetic.

“It doesn’t mean you’re bad,” you said softly. “It means you’re tired. All of you.” The words slipped out more gently than you intended, but the truth wrapped itself around them anyway. You could feel it, each of them carrying something that darkened the taste of their blood.

Bruce exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for far too long. His eyes stayed on you—sharp, searching, but strangely vulnerable around the edges. “Then what do you need from us?” he asked, sounding like someone bracing for an answer he wouldn’t like.

You squinted at him, tapping your chin as if pondering something incredibly complicated. Part of it was dramatic flair; part of it was genuine hesitation. “Hmm… I don’t knooow,” you drawled. “Maybe if you let me pick my own target—?”

“No.” Bruce cut you off instantly, without even blinking.

You let out an exaggerated sigh and let your shoulders slump. If he wasn’t going to humor your theatrics, you needed a different approach.

You shrugged as the memory resurfaced, amused despite yourself. “Actually, this situation remind me. when the last blood I enjoyed wasn’t even planned,” you said casually. You glanced away, as if confessing to a harmless mischief. “It was from this weird guy with green hair.”

The shift in the room was instant and unmistakable. Every trace of movement froze, like your words sucked all the warmth out of the air. Jason’s boots stopped mid-pace, Dick’s breath hitched halfway out of his lungs, and Tim nearly dropped his tablet in shock. Even Damian blinked, expression flattening as if the universe had personally offended him.

Bruce didn’t react at first—not outwardly. But something in his posture sharpened, the subtle tension in his shoulders tightening like a wire pulled too far. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet in the way thunder sometimes is—low, controlled, and unsettling. “…You don’t mean Joker.”

You winced slightly, then lifted a hand in a half-hearted gesture of innocence. “I mean… yeah,” you admitted. “He wouldn’t stop talking that night, and I snapped. I bit him to shut him up.” Your tone softened, almost embarrassed. “And weirdly… he tasted pretty good.”

Jason made a strangled noise that was half-gasp, half-breakdown. Dick put a hand over his mouth like he might scream or pray—possibly both. Tim stared at you with the expression of someone witnessing a scientific impossibility, and Damian looked like he wanted to delete the entire conversation from reality.

Bruce’s jaw ticked once, a tiny motion that somehow felt louder than Jason’s meltdown. “You found his blood enjoyable,” he said slowly, as if repeating it would make it less horrifying. His gaze stayed locked on you, unreadable and far too intense.

You spread your hands helplessly. “What can I say? You all taste like stress and insomnia. He tasted like… chaos. Expensive chemicals. Bad decisions, but in a strangely refreshing way.” You paused, then added sheepishly, “Crisp, even.”

That was the final straw.

The room erupted.

Jason threw his hands into the air, muttering something about needing therapy. Dick slid down the wall like he’d lost the will to stand. Tim whispered, “That’s impossible,” over and over as if chanting might change physics. Damian silently reevaluated his entire understanding of the world.

Bruce didn’t raise his voice, but the weight of his silence settled over everything. You suddenly became hyper-aware of the way the taste of their stress thickened around you, sharp enough to sting.

But before Bruce could speak again, Damian stepped forward—chin lifted, certainty radiating from him like heat.

“I don’t understand,” Damian said suddenly, breaking through the chaos with his usual sharpness. He stepped forward, crossing his arms with the posture of someone who believed he was presenting a perfectly logical solution. “If taste is influenced by stress, then the answer is simple. I am the least stressed among us.”

And that, made everything worse.

All movement stopped as every sibling slowly turned toward him.

Dick blinked at him. “Buddy… what?”

Tim’s mouth fell open. “No. No, absolutely not.”

Jason pointed accusingly. “Put the demon back.”

But Damian ignored the protest as if he’d trained his whole life not to hear stupidity. He looked at you with an unwavering stare, chin held high. “Well? If younger blood is preferable, then I will volunteer.”

You held his gaze for a long moment, unsure whether to sigh, laugh, or cry. The kid was so painfully serious it almost hurt. He seemed genuinely convinced he was offering the most reasonable solution in the world.

“…How old are you again?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

“Ten,” he said without hesitation, as confident as if he were announcing a royal title.

The reaction in your body was immediate—you recoiled like someone had shoved a cold spoon into your mouth. “No. Absolutely not,” you said firmly. “I stopped drinking from children centuries ago.”

The offense on his face was instant and dramatic. Damian’s jaw dropped a fraction, eyes narrowing with royal indignation. “I am not a child.”

“You’re literally ten,” you replied.

“And you sound ten.”

“And honestly, your blood probably tastes like organic vegetables and morning discipline.”

Jason fell into the nearest chair wheezing. Tim covered his mouth, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Dick made a soft dying noise into his palms.

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose, the universal sign of a man who deeply regretted his life choices. “Damian,” he said carefully, “sit down.”

“I will do no such thing,” Damian snapped, his pride still sparkling like a crushed diamond. “I am perfectly capable—”

“No,” you cut him off, waving your hand like you were dismissing a menu item. “I don’t eat kids. Even rude ones.”

Damian froze in place as the words hit him.

Slowly—very slowly—he lifted his chin higher, cheeks warming with quiet humiliation.

“…Very well,” he muttered stiffly. “If you insist on poor decision-making, that is your burden.”

The family collectively exhaled, relief washing through the room like a long overdue breath. Even through the bitterness of their stress, you could feel something softer beneath it, warm concern, tangled with frustration and worry.

_______________________________________

Damian’s eyes narrowed as he examined your fangs with the intensity of someone studying a new weapon. “So… do your fangs actually drink blood?” he asked, leaning in with far too much confidence for someone who had just been rejected as a food source. His curiosity was sharp enough to cut through the leftover embarrassment.

You shook your head, amused at the misconception. “No. My fangs don’t drink anything,” you explained. “They’re more like… tools. They pierce, numb, and help me hold the person still. But the actual feeding? That happens in the mouth, not through the fangs.” You tapped one of them lightly. “These are basically nature’s anesthesia needles.”

Jason blinked slowly, trying to process that. “So the fangs are just the opening act?” he muttered. “And the main event happens after?” He looked both horrified and impressed.

Tim raised a hand, already slipping into research mode. “Wait, so when you bite someone, the numbing effect prevents significant pain? And you only use your mouth to draw the blood afterward?” He looked moments away from pulling out a notebook.

“Exactly,” you said. “The numbness keeps the person from panicking or struggling. But it also means I have to be careful—if I bite too deep or too fast, the numbing doesn’t work right.” You shrugged, used to the mechanics. “It’s less dramatic than people think.”

Stephanie, who had been listening with wide eyes, gasped loudly. “So it’s like a vampire dentist appointment? Minus the actual dentist part?” She stepped closer, pointing at your fangs. “Also those things look WAY sharper up close. How do you not cut your own tongue?”

You blinked. “Experience.”

Jason added, “And probably trauma,” earning a smack from Steph.

Duke folded his arms, studying you with thoughtful interest. “So you bite to start the process, but you don’t immediately drink?” he asked. “That sounds… almost surgical.” His tone wasn’t judgmental—more like he was piecing together a puzzle.

“Pretty much,” you agreed. “I need a clean angle and a steady flow. The fang puncture is just to open the vein without tearing the skin.” Then you lowered your voice, almost conspiratorial. “And yes, technique matters.”

Cassandra moved closer, silent as always, her gaze lingering on your mouth. She tilted her head slightly. “…Pressure point?” she asked softly. Her questions were few, but always sharp.

You nodded to her. “Yes. The bite has to land on a point where blood flow is steady but the person won’t bleed out. Too high, too low, too deep—it becomes dangerous.” Cass absorbed the information with a slow nod, as if mapping your words onto anatomy in her head.

Bruce’s brows furrowed at that, but he stayed quiet—listening, calculating, worrying in that silent way of his.

Dick rubbed his arm, suddenly more aware of his own neck. “So… where do you usually bite?” he asked, voice wavering between curiosity and dread. “Like… your go-to spot?”

Your answer didn’t come immediately. You let the question settle, thinking it through.

“It depends on the person,” you said. “Different people have different optimal spots—blood flow, muscle tension, accessibility. Some places bleed cleaner, some are safer, and some are easier to reach when someone is fighting.”

Jason raised a brow. “Okay, but what’s your favorite spot?” he pressed. “Like, the one you use the most.”

You let a slow, deliberate smile stretch across your lips—not threatening, but enough to make half the room tense anyway. “The place I bite most often,” you said, “is the one that’s easiest to reach, hardest to guard, and least likely to cause lasting damage.”

The room leaned in, every sibling unconsciously bracing themselves.

“…The shoulder,” you finished. “It’s exposed, less dangerous than the neck, and people rarely expect you to go for it first. Plus the blood flow is steady without being overwhelming.” You shrugged again. “It’s practical.”

Stephanie slapped Duke’s arm. “SEE? I told you the shoulder was suspicious!”

Duke winced. “I thought you were joking when you said vampires liked that spot!”

Cass nodded as if the information matched something she already suspected.

Tim absorbed the information with growing fascination. “So neck bites are actually inefficient?”

You nodded. “Messy. Dramatic. Risky. Only good for movies or… special situations.”

Jason made a noise that could only be described as scandalized choking.

Damian rolled his eyes, muttering something about “inefficient feeding methods.”

Dick covered his mouth with both hands, probably regretting every vampire movie he ever watched.

Bruce, meanwhile, stood very still—thinking.

And somehow, that was more unnerving than the chaos around him.

_______________________________________

Curiosity flickered across the room before anyone else dared speak. It was Duke who finally voiced the question everyone had clearly been tiptoeing around. “So… does everyone you bite turn into a vampire?” he asked, looking both cautious and fascinated.

You shook your head immediately. “No. If that were the case, the world would be overflowing with vampires by now.” A faint, humorless smile tugged at your lips. “Trust me, it’s not that simple.”

Stephanie leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Then how do vampires happen? I mean—if biting doesn’t turn someone, what does?” Her tone hovered between genuine intrigue and mild panic.

Your gaze drifted to Tim, who was already inching closer like a scientist watching a rare creature. “We can reproduce biologically,” you explained, voice steady. “But it’s rare. Most of us… don’t have the emotional capacity for that kind of attachment.” Something in your tone dimmed, so softly the room seemed to lean in.

You continued before they could interrupt. “There are humans who become vampires, but only through very specific conditions. Ancient rituals. Sacrificial rites. Curses older than civilizations.” Your eyes met Tim’s directly, holding him still. “Other than that, I can’t tell you. Some things aren’t meant to be passed around like bedtime stories.”

Tim swallowed a thousand questions he suddenly didn’t know how to ask. His mind spun, but he didn’t speak.

Cass tilted her head, studying you with the deep, intuitive awareness only she possessed. Her silence felt like a question.

But it was Damian—of course—who broke the quiet. “And you?” he demanded, arms crossed. “What are you? Born vampire, or made?”

The room went utterly still.

Your jaw clenched before your eyes flicked sharply toward him. A shadow crossed your expression, too fast to analyze, too heavy to ignore. “Damian,” Dick warned under his breath, already sensing the shift.

You held Damian’s stare for a long, cold heartbeat.

Then you exhaled through your nose, the sound sharp and tired.

“go to bed, Damian,” you said quietly—not loud, not angry, just tired.

"What!"Damian’s eyes widened just a fraction, surprised not by the words.

_______________________________________

Damian leaned forward with that sharpened curiosity only he possessed, his brows pulling together in genuine interest rather than arrogance. “If vampires don’t age,” he said, voice steady, “how old are you exactly?”

You didn’t answer right away. Your eyes slid toward him with a tired sort of patience, the kind you’d earned long before he ever existed. “Older than your family name,” you said, tone even and calm.

Damian frowned, unsatisfied. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “And it never will.” You didn’t raise your voice, but the finality in your tone settled over the room like a closed door.

Damian huffed, crossing his arms tightly as he leaned back on his heels. “You’re avoiding the question!,” he said, voice tight with irritation.

_______________________________________

“Okay, wait—do vampires process blood like humans do food? Does it spoil? Is there an optimal temperature? Can you refrigerate it? Freeze it? Do different blood types taste different? Is there a nutritional—”

You stared at him, utterly expressionless, feeling your soul quietly step out of your body and walk away.

“…Timothy,” you said slowly, every syllable weighed down with centuries of regret. You were certain that if you blinked too fast, he’d take it as permission to ask three more questions.

Jason didn’t even look surprised; he just leaned back on the couch like this was a frequent tragedy. “Yeah, he’s gone,” he drawled, hands laced behind his head. “You’re about five seconds away from becoming a case study. Or worse—he’s gonna build you a feeding chart.”

Tim did not deny it.

In fact, he lifted his tablet like a swordsman presenting his blade. “If we establish a baseline intake rate, then hypothetically—”

“Tim,” you repeated, with the tone of someone who had seen multiple historical collapses and ranked this conversation among them. “Stop.”

Tim blinked, then pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose like a man regrouping for a second wave. “Okay, but theoretically—”

“No theoreticals,” you cut in quickly. “Or practically. Or ever.”

For a moment, Tim looked genuinely heartbroken—as if you had just cancelled his birthday, his graduation, and his thesis defense all at once. Dick patted him sympathetically, whispering, “Next time. Maybe ask about bat anatomy first.”

Jason smirked. “Oh yeah, that’ll calm him down. Hey, Tim—ask them if fangs grow back.”

Tim perked back up instantly.

You glared at Jason like you were tempted to bite him right then and there.

_______________________________________

Damian tilted his head at you with the blunt curiosity only a ten-year-old could wield without hesitation.

“So… are you, like, ancient? Or just old?” he asked, genuinely puzzled, not an ounce of malice in sight.

Tim immediately stiffened. “Damian—don’t.”

“What?” Damian shot back, frowning. “They look fine for a corpse. I’m simply asking how vampires even… start.”

He gestured vaguely at you, like the concept of your existence personally offended him.

You stared at him for a moment, the room falling completely still around you.

“...Damian,” you said slowly, equal parts warning and disbelief.

Instead of taking the hint, he leaned forward, eyes bright with curiosity and impatience. “Well? How does one even become a vampire? Born? Made? Do you have to die first or—”

You cut him off with a small exhale, the kind that carried far more weight than sound.

“…Go to bed.”

Damian jerked back as if struck. “WHY? I asked a QUESTION.”

His voice cracked with indignation, face pulling into an offended scowl that made him look even more like a child trying desperately not to be one.

Dick winced sympathetically.

Tim covered his face like he’d predicted this outcome from the start.

Jason whispered, “Bro got grounded by a vampire,” under his breath.

But you didn’t look at anyone else—only at Damian, whose pride was trembling at the edges.

“You’re not ready for that answer,” you said gently, quiet but firm. “And I’m not giving it.”

For a second, Damian’s shoulders drew up defensively, chin lifting as if he wanted to argue.

Then his mouth pressed into a thin line, and he muttered something sharp in Arabic before stomping toward the hallway—furious, embarrassed, and very much still ten years old.

The door closed behind him with a dramatic thud.

_______________________________________

Jason leaned forward with the kind of morbid curiosity only he could pull off, elbows on his knees and eyes too bright. “Be honest. Did he taste weird because he’s crazy or because he’s a clown?” His eyebrows lifted like he was bracing himself for scientific confirmation of something deeply stupid.

You didn’t even hesitate.

“Both.”

Jason slapped the back of the couch triumphantly. “I KNEW it!” He looked so pleased with himself you almost felt guilty for what you were about to say next.

But you weren’t done, and that was the problem.

Your gaze drifted away as the memory tugged at you—sharp, fizzy, strange.

Your mouth opened before your mind could stop it, the memory rising like something dragged up from deep water. “It wasn’t just good,” you murmured, voice low, almost trembling around the edges. “It was… dangerous.”

Every head snapped toward you, but you didn’t look at them.

Your eyes unfocused, staring past the room entirely, as if the taste was crawling its way back onto your tongue.

“It hit fast. Sharp. Like biting into something that fizzes the moment it touches you.” Your fingers flexed slightly, as though your body remembered the sensation better than your mind did. “Sweet, but not soft. Salty, metallic, bright. It burned in the way pleasure sometimes burns—too much, too sudden, too intense.”

The room grew quiet, heavy, almost suffocating.

“It didn’t taste like blood,” you whispered. “It tasted like temptation.”

Your throat bobbed with a swallow you couldn’t stop. “Like something I wasn’t supposed to enjoy… which made it worse. Better.”

A faint twitch at the corner of your mouth betrayed how unwilling you were to admit the rest.

Jason leaned forward just as Dick took a horrified half-step back.

“And afterward?” Jason asked, voice oddly hushed.

You drew in a slow breath, fighting the honest answer, but it scraped its way out anyway.

“Afterward, it stayed with me,” you said. “The fizz. The burn. The sweetness that shouldn’t have been there. It’s like it hooked itself into my nerves and refused to let go.”

Your eyes finally lifted, but not fully focused—still half in that memory you shouldn’t be thinking about.

“Now, every time it crosses my mind…”

Your voice dipped into something quiet and unsettling.

“…I want it again.”

Silence.

Real silence.

The room froze.

Tim’s tablet dimmed in his frozen hands.

Dick’s jaw clenched like he was holding back a scream.

Duke blinked hard, once, like he needed to reset his entire worldview.

Stephanie covered her mouth, gagging into her sleeve.

Cass leaned back just slightly, eyes unreadable.

And then—of course—Jason broke first.

“…Oh my god,” he whispered, sounding delighted and horrified in equal measure. “You’re addicted. To clown juice.”

You covered your face with both hands, wishing you could melt into the floorboards.

“Please never call it that again.”

Jason tossed an arm around your shoulders immediately, already ignoring your plea. “Too late. It’s canon. You’re a sparkling-beverage vampire now.” He smirked. “You drank Joker like a carbonated drink.”

Tim’s voice finally rebooted with a shaky glitch. “What exactly do you mean by soda?”

You peeked out between your fingers. “…Carbonated. Fizzy. Like something was popping or crackling under the taste.”

That was apparently the breaking point.

Dick shot upright with a yelp, scrambling across the room like someone had stepped on his soul. He clapped both hands over Damian’s ears so fast the boy barely had time to blink. “NOPE. Absolutely not. My baby brother is not hearing about fizzy murder-clown blood—Damian, we’re leaving—”

Damian struggled immediately, swatting at Dick’s hands with indignant fury. “Unhand me! I deserve to know what idiocy I’m living alongside—!”

Dick, already dragging him back by the shoulders, hissed, “You deserve peace, Damian! Peace and ignorance!”

Meanwhile, Duke stared at you with the expression of a man quietly rewriting his entire understanding of reality. His mouth opened, closed, then opened again—no words, just a silent what the hell echoing in his eyes. Stephanie gagged dramatically into her sleeve. Cassandra tilted her head in quiet horror.

Bruce closed his eyes—very slowly, very painfully—as if this new information physically added ten years to his life expectancy. The air around him shifted, heavy and resigned, and when he finally spoke, his voice was quiet but unarguably absolute.

“He cannot ever find out.”

You lifted both hands in surrender, wide-eyed and exasperated. “Hey, hey—I’m not planning on sending him a Yelp review.”

Jason immediately snorted. Dick groaned. Tim whispered, “Vampires shouldn’t even know what Yelp is.” Damian continued kicking at Dick’s shins in the background.

_______________________________________

Damian: “If you bit Father, would he turn? Or become stronger? Or would he finally sleep normally? Would he become immorta—”

You: “-Go to bed, Damian.”

Damian: “Why do you never answer my questions?!”