waltzmatildah: (tvd: katherine coloured)
[personal profile] waltzmatildah
Title: See You Later, Baby See You Later
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Characters/Pairing: Katherine (/Damon)
Word Count: 750
Rating: R
Prompt: For [livejournal.com profile] opheliahyde. If I could love, I'd love you, if I could love like anybody else. I know what I am, I'm your villain. I don't give a damn if I'm your villain. Also, commiseration fic for [livejournal.com profile] miss_blanche. She knows why...
Spoilers: This starts pre vamp!Damon and moves through to The Return.
Author's Note: Prompt, title and cut text from I'm Your Villain, Franz Ferdinand.

The feel of her own skin is foreign. Too tight and too loose and too in between. She fists her fingers through his black hair, tilts his head back into the pillow, loses herself momentarily in the bright, bright blue that blinks back.


Shudders at the sound of anticipation that parts his lips. Settles it somewhere in the base of her spine to cherish for later.

Much later.

He tastes like fire and wine as he coats her teeth and fills her throat to full and overflowing.

That he loves her remains unquestioned. Whether it makes what is to come next easier or infinitely more difficult she can't quite bring herself to fathom.


His fingers brand the back of her hand. Feather light and fading. She takes just enough to keep him compliant, weak. Relishes the giddy grin he offers up as she hovers just out of reach.

Resists the urge to drain him dry.

Sweet boy.


They present an intriguing proposition. The brothers. A dichotomy of sorts. Her own private cat and mouse combination.

And the game she plays is every bit as devious.

That they remain oblivious to their starring role only adds to the intricate appeal.


She has plans to turn them both. Knows that what they're doing and the way they're doing it can't possibly last. That dragging them into immortality is her only option. She doesn't ask their permission, hasn't needed it for anything up 'til now and doubts she'll beg for it in the future.

Takes exactly what she wants and imprints her name all over it.


She's unprepared for the aftermath. For the complete lack of anything that floods through her veins when it's done.

Underwhelmed and only slightly curious as to why.

Shrugs dismissively as the novelty of them both dissipates into the swirling fog. Doesn't even bother to offer up a hollow goodbye. Revels in the blood numbing idea that she'll haunt him for eternity. Almost enjoys it more than anything that has come before.

Anything that is likely to come next.


She runs into him in in the mid fifties. It's by accident and the narrow miss leaves her unsettled for a beat. She's been so careful 'til now. But her guard has been liquor loosened by degrees and it's not 'til they're almost face to face that she baulks.

Ducks her chin.

Beats a hasty retreat that spikes her blood with a degree of anticipation that is wholly unfamiliar.

How interesting...


She keeps a safe distance for days. Watches him move through the hours with her lids to half mast and her fingers fisted at her sides. He has learned to fend for himself she notes, self-satisfied.

He's developed quite the reputation. Carved hearts and siphoned blood from here to kingdom come.

For her.

She soars. Breathless.

Swallows rumours that he's searched for her. Made bold declarations of unrepentant revenge. Begged and pleaded and sold what remains of his soul for answers that are always just out of reach.

She grins at the image of him, a tempest of sorts.

And he always was too emotional. The one downside to her little game.

So ready to bruise.


Decades pass. Very little else changes.

She's grown weary with boredom and her fingers itch to seek him out. To tear at limbs that once entwined so completely with hers.

Doesn't but only just...

At least, not yet.


When the time comes she makes her move.


And Mystic Falls is everything and nothing like she remembers. The cold settles deep in her bones as a storm of the most tumultuous order brews and boils in her chest.

She kisses him and it almost feels like coming home.


He's begging. And it would be funny if it wasn't so goddamn pathetic.

“It's always been Stefan...”


But so fun.

The way his face drops for a stutter, rights itself again with a practiced ease that is fast becoming more and more forced.

She laughs because she can.

Conjures memories of him from before. Pliant and willing. A lap dog of sorts that she could bend to her will. Knows without doubt that she still could.

If she wanted to.
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.


waltzmatildah: (Default)

December 2016

181920 21222324

Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Sep. 25th, 2017 01:13 pm
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios