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The Originals: Preferences

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Niklaus Mikaelson
It had been a long day. Damon had been on your case again about something or other whilst you’d been babysitting his useless self. Stefan had not long since relinquished you from your duties and you were sat at the Mystic Grill bar nursing a pint when someone sat down beside you.

“Bourbon please,” an English accent requested.

Matt brought over the glass and began to pour the dark liquid into the bottle. Once he’d poured a small amount he left to serve some other customers but left the half-empty bottle with the man beside you.

“There’s a first,” you commented.

The blonde smirked, “and why would that be?”

“Matt voluntarily left you the bottle and he only does that if…,” you trailed off.

He smiled again, “I haven’t compelled him this time. But he’s smart enough to remember.”

“You’re that original hybrid pain in the arse Damon keeps complaining about,” you realised.

The Englishman nodded, “and you must be the illusive y/n. I’ve heard all about you from the Salvatores. I’m Klaus.”

He extended his hand to you and you shook it, “nice to actually meet you when you aren’t killing half of Mystic Falls.”

“I can’t help myself, love,” Klaus responded, “now how about we share this bottle and drink our problems away?”

You rolled your eyes, “sounds like a deal to me.”

Elijah Mikaelson
It was a typical Friday night at the jazz club. Tourists were spilling in off the streets to get a taste of authentic New Orleans. You were around halfway through that night’s set and slightly tipsy of the shots the drummer had bought in an attempt to flirt with you. His attempts failed but you weren’t complaining about the free drinks that seemed to make the notes coming out of the saxophone flow easier.

After you had finished the piece you took a break. You sat down behind the stage with a bottle of water chatting with the bassist. Friday’s were the busiest nights which meant security was about as strict as it got at the jazz club especially considering the people that hung about. None of the band seemed to know why but on a Friday a lot more people were injured or went missing in the quarter.

A man dressed in a 3 piece suit walked up to where the 2 of you were sat.

“How did you get back here?” You demanded.

He dismissed your question, “security owes me a favour.”

“A likely story,” the bassist mumbled.

He turned to your friend, “will you give us a minute?”

With that, she turned and left you alone without question, “what do you want?”

“To introduce myself to the pretty saxophone player that caught my eye,” he answered, “I’m Elijah.”

You rolled your eyes, “normally guys just try to get me drunk.”

“See,” Elijah began, “that’s because they don’t know how to properly treat a lady.”

You laughed, “and who says I’m a lady?”

“Well, why don’t you let me take you out and we’ll find out?” He offered.

You couldn’t help but smile, “you don’t even know my name.”

“I have a feeling you’re more than just a pretty face,” he responded.

You held out your hand, “phone.”

“Why?” Elijah asked.

You chuckled again, “so I can give you my number so you can take me out when I’m not working.”

He laughed lightly and handed you his phone. You typed in your number with the contact name ‘Pretty saxophone player’ before waving goodbye and going back on stage.

Kol Mikaelson
It was a normal day in the French Quarter. You were out running errands and helping Davina work out her latest spell. Currently, you were slightly off task browsing through old Beatles records in the shop when you felt somebody looking at you. Across the store, a guy, probably about your age, was watching your every move. He smirked when he realised you had spotted him. You glared at him before leaving the shop without buying anything.

Halfway down the street, someone caught your wrist. You spun around to see the guy who’d been watching you.

“What the hell do you want?” You demanded.

He smiled, “I apologise for the intrusion love but I was drawn to you.”

“You know how cheesy that is right?” You asked irritatedly.

He laughed, “yeah I know but hey worth a try right?”

“Yeah okay. I’ll give you that although maybe next time just say hi?” You offered.

He smirked, “right then. Hi, I’m Kaleb. Do you fancy getting coffee or something one time?”

“Hi Kaleb, I’m y/n. Yes, I suppose you can take me out for coffee,” you answered.

Kaleb handed you a small piece of paper, “here’s my number. Text me sometime.”

He walked off and you couldn’t help but laugh at his unusual attitude.

Marcel Gerard
You had been dreading this night for weeks; the harvest ritual. Thankfully it was beyond your time to be selected but your best friend’s niece had been chosen. Sophie was determined to find a way to stop it and you’d spent countless hours helping her.

It was time for the ritual to begin and you stood behind the 4 young girls. You waited with bated breath for the girls to realise what was going on. As soon as Sophie ran up they thought something was off but as the first girl’s throat was slit they descended into pandemonium. Everyone stood calmly as the remaining girls struggled desperately to get free.

By the time 2 of the girls had been killed tears were streaming down your face as one of the others hold you back. But someone intervened. Vampires dropped into the courtyard catching the attention of everyone present. As the witches tried to fight their attackers Agnes slit Sophie’s niece’s throat and you thought it was all over. You fought hopelessly to free yourself but it was no use. The last girl, Davina was screaming and one of the vampires snapped her captor’s neck and brought her close to him like a father protecting a daughter.

After everything was over and the vampires had left, you stood alone surveying the scene. The bodies of the unfortunate witches were strewn across the graveyard. 3 were easy to pick out; teenage girls in white dresses with fresh red blood spilt down the front of them.

“It’s quite the mess huh?” a voice said behind you.

You shrieked and spun round to see the vampire who had rescued Davina, “don’t jump up on someone like that!”

“My apologies. I’m only here to see what needs to be cleaned up,” he answered.

You sighed, “surely it isn’t your problem? It is witch business after all.”

“You don’t know who I am?” He questioned.

“Nope. I’ve been out of town for a while. I’m only back because Sophie told me about this stupid ritual,” you answered.

He nodded, “well I’m Marcel and I kinda run the whole quarter so anything that happens is my business.”

“Well Marcel I’d love to know what you plan on doing about this,” you said.

Marcel gave you a wry smile, “clear it up and punish the witches. Which won’t include you because I couldn’t help but notice you weren’t very involved in this.”

“As I said,” you responded, “I’m here because I was trying to help Sophie stop this whole thing. We weren’t very successful.”

He offered his hand, “you saved 1 of them. Davina is safe and I’m sure she’d appreciate if you visited.”

You smiled and took his hand, “I’m y/n by the way.”

Vincent Griffith
It had been a slow day as far as the Mikaelsons were concerned. Klaus had refrained from killing anyone and Elijah hadn’t gone all high and mighty on you about doing something with your immortal life… yet. Freya was away doing something and you sat stretched out in the courtyard with your favourite book.

Just as you were beginning to relax the peace was disturbed, “Freya!”

“She’s not here,” you answered, “and I don’t know where she’s gone or when she might come back. So please leave and allow the silence to resume.”

The man who had arrived glared at you, “who died and made you queen.”

“Technically me. Now bugger off before I snap your neck,” you responded.

He looked at you for a minute before realising, “you’re y/n. Freya told me about you. Nightmare who adopted all the Mikaelson brothers’ worst traits.”

“That would be me,” you agreed, “now would you please leave? I’ve not seen this book in 50 years and I would like sufficient time to become acquainted with it. And I’ll tell Freya you were looking for her whatever your name is.”

He smiled, “I’m Vincent. I’ll leave you to your book, enjoy it.”

Davina Claire
“So explain to me again, slowly, why you have a teenage girl in the attic of an old church where a massacre took place,” you asked Marcel.

He sighed, “she was 1 of the girls supposed to be sacrificed in the harvest ritual which allows the witches to continue drawing power from the ancestors or something like that. Sophie told me about and obviously, I had to do something because they were going to kill 4 kids but I only got there in time to save Davina so I’m keeping her somewhere safe where the witches won’t find her.”

”And I’m here because?” You asked.

He explained, “because I figured she could use someone to talk to. The only real options are you or Thierry and as well as he can play I don’t think he would be good with a teenage girl. And you were one once.”

”Yeah. Years ago!” You protested, “times have changed since then.”

”Eh you can get away with it,” Marcel said as he opened the church door.

You shoved him, “and it’s your fault I’m eternally 18.”

”Just talk to her will you?” Marcel asked, “she feels completely alone. You know what that’s like.”

You nodded, “I’ll speak to her but no promises. Teenagers are very different than they were in my day.”

“Oh shush,” Marcel laughed, “you’re only bloody 24!”

With that, you left the older vampire by the altar and climbed the steep stairs to the attic. You knocked and the door and waited for the small voice to say ‘come in’ before entering. The only things in the circular room were a small set of drawers and a bed where Davina was curled up in what looked like Marcel’s t-shirt.

“Hey. You’re Davina, right? I’m y/n,” you greeted her.

The young girl looked at you, “why are you here?”

“I’m Marcel’s friend. He thought you might benefit from talking to someone other than a 200-year-old guy with no clue about being a teenage girl,” you answered.

She laughed slightly, “are you a vampire?”

“Yeah but I’m not hundreds of years old,” you responded.

Davina smiled, “do you know what’s going to happen?”

Camille O'Connell
After a stressful day, you were sat the bar in Rousseau’s with the remainder of a bottle of whiskey. You had just broken up with your partner after finding out they were involved in the harvest ritual. Despite being human you were up to date with all the supernatural happenings due to Father Kieran.

“Are you keeping that?” The bartender that had just taken over asked.

You nodded, “I paid for it.”

“Rough night huh?” she asked.

You laughed, “something like that.”

“Wanna talk about it y/n?” she persisted.

You shook your head, “I’m good Cami. After having a secret hidden from me for 8 months I just want to get drunk and forget about everything.”

“That bad?” Cami questioned.

You downed what was left in your glass, “yup.”

“Well in that case,” she said grabbing a glass, “you aren’t drinking alone.”

Rebekah Mikaelson
You were not particularly enjoying yourself. Kol was on a bender with his sister in France and had insisted you join them for a night of ‘civilised conversation’ at a masquerade ball. It was about as far out of your comfort zone as it got.

In true Kol fashion, he’d found a pretty girl and ditched you, leaving you alone at a table by the bar. Your mask lay discarded beside you and the painfully high heels he’d convinced you to wear were somewhere under your chair. Here you had the perfect view of the entrance where you could judge everyone’s outfits (rightly or wrongly so).

A young women came into the room that took your breath away. Her blonde hair was swept up and she was wearing a floor length midnight blue dress. As soon as she arrived Kol spoke to her. They exchanged a few words and he nodded in your direction before going back to his latest conquest.

“You look awful lonely,” she greeted in an accent similar to Kol’s.

You laughed, “well that’s what happens when your best friend ditches you for a half decent looking French maiden.”

“Yeah about that. Kol feels bad and since I don’t exactly want to be here either we’re going to escape together and have some real fun. I’m Rebekah, his sister,” she introduced.

You smiled, “I’m y/n. Now, where is the best place in the area for macaroons?”

Hayley Marshall
“How are you feeling y/n?” Oliver asked.

You shrugged, “like it still isn’t gonna happen.”

“You know both of us will be here the whole time,” Jackson reassured, “plus I’ve got someone else that’s coming to help us.”

You gave him a look, “who?”

“Hayley. She’s a hybrid and one of us,” he explained.

You smiled, “oh her. Oliver has told me all about her.”

Jackson rolled his eyes, “yes her. She volunteered to come to make sure nothing went wrong.”

“Hi you 2,” a young woman greeted as she entered the cabin, “nice to see you again. You must be y/n it’s good to meet you.”

You gave her a small wave, “hi Hayley.”

“Can you goons give us a couple of minutes?” She asked.

Jackson and Oliver left them alone in the room. Once they had left Hayley turned to her, “how are you holding up y/n?”

“Honestly, I’m terrified. I know that you guys have been through it a lot but it’s still a lot to handle. I knew it was gonna happen eventually but I kinda hoped it wouldn’t,” you explained.

Hayley gave you a weak smile, “I know how you feel. But honestly, once you’re over the pain then the feeling of running through the woods is amazing. But um, I’m going to be changing this month so you aren’t stuck with just Jack and Olly.”

“Puh-lease,” you laughed, “they would ditch me within about 20 minutes to have their bloody ‘who's stronger’ competition.”

Hope Mikaelson
“Hello y/n/n,” Lizzie Saltzman greeted as she swung into the seat beside them.

You smiled and your best friend, “alright Lizzie?”

“Uh huh. Ya know because you love me,” she sang.

You sighed, “yes I will help you with your homework.”

“Love you,” Lizzie laughed.

You pulled out your exercise book, “right so uhm… English or stupid history?”

“It’s not stupid history! It’s the rich history of our ancestors and how we came to be the witches we are now!” Lizzie protested.

You laughed, “I’m sure it is. But last time I looked it was learning a long list of names and dates?”

“Hope! Get over here I need backup!” She yelled across the common room.

Her father yelled at her, “Elizabeth no shouting across rooms!”

“This better be worth getting us in trouble Liz,” Hope greeted.

Lizzie glared at her, “please convince y/n here that witch history is more than names and dates to remember.”

“You’re talking to the only witch at the school that hates the damn subject,” she pointed out.

You laughed, “ha! I told you so!”

Lizzie banged her head against the table, “I hate you both.”

You and Hope laughed before high fiving over Lizzie’s back.