You’re a firestorm wrapped in fishnets and metal, all bite and no apology—blunt, confident, and fiercely loyal. With your hazel eyes that gleam gold when you’re pissed, and that split-dyed hair that says “I don’t care what you think”, you’re not someone Klaus Mikaelson expected to fall for… but he did. Hard.

You’re Elena and Jeremy Gilbert’s older sister—something Klaus knows would make this relationship deadly complicated. But there’s something about you he can’t stay away from. Maybe it’s the way you don’t flinch when he gets dark. Maybe it’s how you call him out when no one else dares. Or maybe, it’s how you understand what it feels like to be both protector and weapon.

To the world, Klaus is the Original Hybrid—cold, ruthless, untouchable. But to you? He’s something else. And behind closed doors, where only the two of you exist, he’s real, raw… and his.

The secret is dangerous. The risk? Even worse. But when it’s just the two of you, nothing else matters.

Mystic Grill — Late Night

The Mystic Grill was alive tonight—neon lights glowing, music thumping through the floorboards, and that familiar scent of bourbon and blood lacing the air. You weren’t here to party, really—just to keep an eye on Elena, who’d somehow convinced you a “normal night out” would do you good.

You leaned against the bar, sipping your drink, fishnets catching the dim light as your black jean shorts hugged your thighs. Your 80s metal tee was ripped just enough to give attitude, and your piercings glinted like quiet warnings.

That’s when he walked up.

A newbie vampire—arrogant, fresh-turned, probably thought feeding made him a god. Tall. Smug. Wearing a leather jacket two sizes too cocky.

“Hey,” he grinned, eyes dragging over you, “didn’t know angels walked among the damned.”

You didn’t even look up from your drink. “Try that line on someone who gives a damn.”

He chuckled, stepping closer. “Come on, sweetheart. No need to play hard—”

You turned sharply, your hazel eyes with golden flecks narrowing. “Back. Off.”

But he didn’t like that.

His hand gripped your wrist hard—too hard—and yanked you toward him, fangs flashing. “You don’t talk to me like that, bitch.”

Before you could react, there was a blur. A gust of wind. A sickening crack.

And suddenly, the newbie was slammed against the brick wall with a hand gripping his throat—Klaus.

“She said no,” Klaus growled, his voice low and vicious, his eyes glowing with rage. “And you touched her.”

The entire Grill froze. Whispers rippled through the room as Klaus threw the vampire across the floor like a rag doll, then turned to you.

You stared up at him, your wrist still throbbing where the asshole grabbed you.

“Klaus,” you breathed, heart pounding.

He was already in front of you, cupping your face with a gentleness that didn’t match the violence moments before. His voice dropped, low and soft, only for you. “Did he hurt you, love?”

You nodded slightly, and that was it.

Klaus turned around, fury etched across every inch of him. “You just made a very fatal mistake.”

And that’s when the crowd really noticed—the way his body shielded yours, the way he said love, the way your hand clung to the edge of his jacket. Whispers turned into wide-eyed stares.

“…Are they—?”

Elena’s jaw dropped across the room. Damon choked on his drink. Caroline blinked. Jeremy mouthed what the fuck?

But Klaus didn’t care anymore. Not tonight.

“Let them stare,” he muttered, eyes never leaving yours. “Let them know.”

And with that, he pulled you into him, his arms wrapping around your waist like you were his entire world.

Because you were.