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The Pact - Part 1

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x fem!Reader

A The Walking Dead - The Originals Crossover This story is set in the TWD universe but mainly features TO characters. While characters from TWD do appear in upcoming chapters, the focus will mainly be on Elijah and the reader, as well as the reader's missing father, none of which are OC TWD characters.

Summary: It's always been you and your dad. A tough duo, tackling life's challenges together. Not even an outbreak can change that. It's you and your dad against the world, doing whatever it takes to survive. But one day, tragedy strikes. You get separated from your father on a supplies run. By now it's been months, and you're losing hope. That is, until a strange man appears, looking weirdly put together for someone who's years into an apocalypse. There's something off about him. The weirdest part though? He seems to know your father...

Word count: 2168 words

Warnings: swearing, hints of violence, losing a loved one

A/N: This is a rewrite of my unfinished series, 'The Pact'. The contents of the rewritten chapters will differ to the original ones, however, the main plot of the story will remain the same. I hope you enjoy! :) Feedback is greatly appreciated!

It was hot. Which wasn't news, it had been incredibly warm for weeks, but on this particular day, the temperatures seemed to reach a new, even more torturous high. To make matters worse, there was no wind to provide any temporary relief, not even so much as a soft breeze. Dust was settling on everything and was turning the world into a beige version of its once colorful self.

You sat on the small porch of the hut you had taken shelter in for the past couple of weeks, slowly rocking back and forth in the creaky rocking chair that you'd positioned outside, just slightly off to the right of the hut's door. From this spot, you had a perfect view of the sandy road that led up to the cabin. This way, anyone - or anything - making their way to you could be spotted easily, and most importantly, early enough to take precautions.

One of those precautions was your rifle, positioned right next to you for easy access. It leaned against the crumbling railing, ready to be grabbed at the sign of any visitors, dead or alive. It was more of a warning gesture rather than an actual instrument of defense. Sure, you'd use your rifle if it came down to it, but you preferred your hunting knife or axe, depending on the situation. For one, ammo was hard to come by these days, and if you were dealing with a walker, a gunshot would only draw more of them in. You were smart enough not to risk that unless absolutely necessary.

Between the three weapons, your hunting knife was the one that never left your side. It stayed tucked in its shaft on your belt at all times, day and night. It was there when you woke up and when you went to sleep. It had been given to you by your father way before the world had gone to shit. Despite being sold as a weapon, it had never been meant to be used as one. All you'd used it for was to carve letters into a tree or to hack some smaller branches apart for a bonfire on one of your many camping trips together. That had changed quickly when the dead didn't stay dead anymore.

For as long as you could remember, it had always been just you and your dad. It had never bothered you, though. It had never felt like anything was missing from your life. Even when the world got turned upside down and you had to flee from your home, it had been okay, because he was there. Your father was your steady source of comfort and strength. The new world came with an entirely new set of challenges, but you never worried, because you knew he'd find a solution. He always did. He was your rock, the one you could always count on, the one who was always there. Until he wasn't.

You leaned back in your rocking chair as the memories of that fateful day came back to you. You could almost see it play out like a movie in front of your eyes, the pictures dancing in the blurry fields of hot air over the street.

It had been roughly two years since everything had gone to hell. You and your dad were doing considerably well for yourselves: You'd found an abandoned house, about half an hour outside of a small town that, due to some small miracle, had relatively little walkers and plenty of canned goods to loot. But, even though you were careful with your new resources, eventually, your supplies eventually began to run low and you and your father were forced to go out scavenging again.

These supply runs were always carefully planned in advance. The places you'd already ransacked were crossed off on the map you kept in the kitchen and new places were picked based on their approximate distance, the resources it would take you to get there and the likelihood of the place having anything left to loot at all. More often than not now, the towns you visited had already been ransacked and picked clean to its bones. Once you guys had picked a destination, you'd prepare for the upcoming trip by boarding up the house as best as you could, getting your food and water ready and making sure your camping gear and weapons were in good shape. It was a tough balance of what to bring and how much space to leave empty in your packs. What you ended up bringing was usually something between a calculated amount of resources to get you where you wanted to go (which would be used up by the time you got there, providing you with new space for your future finds) and a guess about how much you would end up finding. Basically, it was a mix of precise planning and a risky gamble. Up until that day, you had always managed to make it work. Your father had repaired an old trolley you'd once come across for extra space, but you never brought it into the cities you visited. It stayed tucked away at your campsite outside of town, mostly for safety reasons. If you ran into trouble, it was more likely to make a quick exit with just a backpack weighing you down, rather than having to pull an entire trolley out of a risky situation. On the rare occasion that you found more than you could carry, you'd take multiple trips to get everything back to your temporary camp. Better safe than sorry.

You'd done well with this strategy. Of course you occasionally ran into trouble, but it had never had lasting consequences. Despite a dry stretch of roughly three months, where every single town you hit had close to nothing to offer, your little duo had been able to survive. Sometimes it even remotely felt like a life.

But that 'life' ended when you lost your dad.

Figuratively speaking, that is. You never saw him die. But you were sure he was dead. After all, what besides death could be keeping him from you? What other reason could he have had for not having met back up with you at your campsite after you two got separated? The father you knew would have done everything in his power to get back to you. But he hadn't, not in the time you'd waited. And you had waited a long time, for as long as you could.

Something snapped you out of your thoughts. It took you a second to register, but then you realized it had been the sound of a branch breaking. Nothing unusual per se, considering that the grounds of the cabin were largely surrounded by a dry forest, save for the clearing and the street in front of you. It had sounded deliberate, though. Like a foot snapping a branch in half. You'd learned the difference over the years when hunting became an essential life skill. No, it definitely hadn't been a falling branch. Which meant that someone - or something - was out there.

Crack.

There it was again. You rose to your feet and picked up the rifle. It was more for show, really, just so whoever was treading through the trees wouldn't get any ideas. You weren't gonna be mistaken for an easy target. But even so, you didn't love the rifle in your hands. You were not the best shooter and you'd had more walkers in your area lately than you liked. No reason to draw more of them in.

Crack.

Another branch snapped, this time a lot closer to you than before. That made it clear, then. Human. And definitely headed your way too, judging from where the first few cracks had come from. You were sure it was a human. Walkers made more sounds. Their lack of coordination and less-than-fit bodies made a lot of dragging and shuffling sounds. There was none of that to be heard now.

You hoisted the rifle up as if getting ready to shoot and used the scope to check the line of trees to either side of you. "Come on out and show yourself," you yelled out. You made a point of sounding more relaxed than you were. Show no fear, and you appear stronger. That's how it was now. Put on a show. If you were this chill about strangers approaching, it had to happen to you all the time, right? Which meant that you had experience. That you could hold your ground.

And you could, but you were anything but relaxed about it. Your blood was rushing through your body, your pulse thumping in your ears. It made it hard to hear for you and you strained to listen for more evidence of strangers in the silence. Your eyes flicked around, repeatedly drawing half-circles from left to right over the line of trees, watching for signs of anyone approaching you.

Then, just as if he had appeared out of thin air, a figure appeared between the trees.

At some point, if you train enough, your motions become muscle memory. So you didn't have to think about releasing the safety or placing your finger on the trigger while you zeroed in on the person approaching you. Still, a breath of surprise left you when he came into focus.

"What the fuck," you whispered to yourself. The man who had stepped out of the woods held his hands high and walked carefully towards you, obviously intending not to be shot. But you almost shot him anyway. What you were seeing was so bizarre that for a second, you considered if you were having a heat-stroke and just imagining the whole thing.

Coming towards you was a guy dressed in a dark suit and tie, complete with a handkerchief, the whole deal. It was as if he'd been in an office building when the world ended and hadn't changed since. And as if that wasn't bizarre enough, not only did he not appear to have any kind of gear on him, he looked incredibly clean. Fresh out of the store kind of clean. There wasn't a speck of dirt on his suit anywhere. What's more, the entire thing looked brand-new. It was absolutely fascinating and extremely alarming at once. What kind of a psycho would dress this way when survival was at the top of everyone's list? Suit-and-tie wasn't exactly survival-friendly. If anything, it was the opposite. And for the ensemble to be this clean...

"You might wanna stop right where you are," you called out when he got too close for your liking. Nothing about this guy's appearance made any sense and it gave you a bad feeling. To your surprise, the man obliged and stopped in his tracks. It gave you time to check him out once more, and a chill ran down your spine when you saw that he had a smile on his face. It seemed cautious, but what made the hair in the back of your neck stand up was that it had a sense of smugness to it. Definitely a psycho.

"Good. Now do a 180 and go right back to where you came from. You're not welcome here."

He looked at you as if he was seizing you up for a moment. You put the slightest amount of pressure on the trigger in response. Any more weirdness from this guy, and you'd pull the trigger.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, ma'am." His voice was both soft and strong at the same time. It was irritating, but not more than his refusal to leave.

"Listen, buddy, I'm not in the mood for this. Get the fuck outta here, alright? Don't make me shoot you." You made a 'shoo" movement with your gun. Annoyingly, he didn't budge.

"I understand your incentive for defense, but I can assure you, there is no need for that. I do not mean to harm you."

You snorted in response. "You? Harm me? Who's got a rifle pointed at who right now, buddy? Last warning. Get." Your voice had grown ice-cold.

"Please, there is no need for such hostility. I can assure you, I can explain myself, if you'd only let me."

You considered this for a moment. He still had his arms raised and hadn't moved any closer, but his refusal to leave was truly irking you. Something was up with this guy. Still, firing off your gun would have its consequences...

"Fine. You got thirty seconds. Talk."

There was a brief look of triumph on his face that passed so quickly, you weren't sure it had been there to begin with.

"If I may introduce myself, my name is Elijah Mikaelson. Am I correct in assuming that you are Y/N L/N?"

If anything, you should have shot him right then and there. It would have been the smart thing to do. But instincts and smart-things-to-do don't always go hand in hand. Instead of shooting him, you lowered your rifle as you stared at him in bewilderment.

"Now how the fuck do you know my name?"

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #the originals fic #the originals imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #the originals #elijah mikaelson fic #the walking dead #the walking dead fic #the walking dead imagine #elijah mikaelson x you #the pact

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tofics · 1 month

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Out Of This World

Chapter 2

Masterlist

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x fem!Reader x Dean Winchester

Summary: You and the Mikaelsons are fighting a powerful witch that’s trying to take over New Orleans. The only solution: banishment to another universe. However, the spell goes… wrong, and it’s not the witch that ends up in another universe, but you. - At the same time, over a thousand miles away in a bunker in Lebanon, Kansas, an alarm goes off: a rift has opened up. The Winchesters and their angel partners in crime decide to investigate. What will they find when they get to New Orleans?

Word count: 3213 words

Warnings: angst, panic attack, high anxiety

Previously: “No… no, no, no, no.” Your whisper grew more panicked with each syllable. The faint humming sound in your ears picked back up as your blood began to rush through your body again. Panic rose in your chest and tightened its grip until you felt like you couldn’t breathe, oxygen be damned. The spell had worked. They had successfully sent someone to an alternate universe, just like they had planned. It just wasn’t Athea who’d been transported from one universe to another. It was you.

Your heart was hammering in your chest as you stood in the entrance to the alley. You kept taking deep breaths, trying to hold the panic at bay - or more like, keep it in check, before you had a meltdown right there and then. It was hard to keep yourself from spiraling, but you knew it would be of no use. You had to figure out what to do.

Your hand reached into your pocket and found your phone and before you knew it, you had Elijah's number dialed. A small voice inside you whispered that it was pointless, but you didn't listen and instead held on to the part of you that was still hoping that you were wrong. That you were somehow just hallucinating. There was no denying the spell had gone wrong, but maybe everything could be explained somehow, if you could just get in touch with your people.

It didn't even ring once before a mechanical voice informed you that the number you had reached had been disconnected or was no longer in service. Your stomach dipped, but you quickly dialed Klaus instead. "The number you are calling doesn't exist." By now, you felt bile climbing up the back of your throat. Your hands were beginning to shake, but you forced them into fists, willing them to still so you could dial the next number. Hayley was next. Then Freya. With every announcement that the number either didn't exist or was disconnected, your panic grew a little more. You tried Jackson's number and almost threw your phone against the wall in frustration when the same message was repeated to you again, groaning and tears stinging in your eyes. "Come on!" you exclaimed and clicked on Rebekah's contact next. Everyone you'd tried so far had been part of the team on scene. Maybe, if you'd tried Rebekah, who'd stayed home with Hope... Someone had to pick up. Someone just had to. They won't. They can't, the small voice whispered in the back of your head, but you ignored it and pressed dial.

The fact that the call went through and it rang almost made you cry with relief. Finally, you thought and impatiently shifted your weight from one foot to the other and back. "Come on, pick up, pick up pick up pick up," you urged Rebekah on as it rang twice, three times, four times, but no one answered. Then you were connected to her mailbox.

"This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency, leave a message."

You stared at your display. You'd clearly dialed Rebekah's number. "Who the hell is Dean Winchester?," you muttered to yourself. You tried Rebekah again, but instead got the same mailbox message.

Clearly, this was going nowhere, but you refused to give up. You swiped back up your contacts and dialed Camille's number. It rang twice before the line got picked up.

"Hello?"

It was like someone was pouring warm honey over you and washing you clean of anxiety from head to toe at the sound of Camille's voice.

"Oh my god! Finally! I've been trying absolutely everyone and no one's picking up. I think something went wrong, everyone's gone, Athea too but I don't-" The words poured out of your mouth until Camille interrupted you. "I'm sorry, who's this?"

The temporary relief you had felt at Cami picking up the phone started crumbling away. "Wha- this is Y/N?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I think you've got the wrong number!" Camille's voice was cheery, if a bit empathetic. Your phone dropped from your ear as your arms sunk down in defeat. It was pointless. Of course Cami wasn't going to recognize you. How could she, if she'd never met you to begin with - not in this universe.

"Hello?" Her voice squeaked out of your phone's speaker. You took a big breath and then lifted the phone to your ear again. "You're right, I misdialed. My bad. Sorry to have bothered you." Your voice sounded small and defeated. The lump in your throat was so thick now that you'd barely gotten your last words out. Before Camille could reply, you quickly hung up and stuffed your phone back into your pants. I have no idea what to do, you thought. It was then that you finally allowed the tears to come.

"Go ahead Sammy, you're on speaker." Dean handed his phone over to Cas while keeping his eyes fixed on the road. The angel held it up between the two of them.

"So we've looked at what little data we have, and I can't say I've got much for you," Sam's voice croaked out of the speaker, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of Baby's engine and rain softly drumming on the car's windshield. "All I can tell you right now is that, so far, no other rifts have opened up." "Well, that's good," Cas stated in his typical matter-of-fact voice. "Sure, but I don't like how little information we have. Dean, we have no idea what you guys are walking into." Sam's worry wasn't unjustified. He had a point. But what was he supposed to do? Dean didn't see how he had a choice. Yeah, they didn't know what awaited them, but really, when had they ever truly known what to expect? As far as he was concerned, this was just going to be like any other hunt until proven otherwise. Until then, him and Cas would have it covered.

"Relax, Sammy, we've got it. We're not gonna march in there and get ourselves blown up. You know me, I'm a careful guy!" He grinned at Cas, who just raised a brow at him. Cas had gotten better at catching sarcasm, but it sometimes still eluded him. Sam scoffed on the phone. "Right, because that's what you're known for." Dean shook his head, both at Sam's response and the angel's failure to recognize his joke.

It was true, of course. If there was a word to describe Dean's life with, 'safe' definitely wasn't it. Their job came with undeniable risks, risks that both Dean and Sam were acutely aware of. It was precisely why Dean had ordered his brother and Jack to stay home. If anything went wrong, at least Sammy wouldn't be in the line of fire. As for Cas... well, Cas had powers. Powers that could come in useful. And he trusted Cas a hell of a lot more than the baby Nephilim back home in the bunker.

"You said we don't know much. What do we know, then?" Dean decided to change the subject. He didn't want his brother worrying about him. "Honestly, no more than when you left, really. I can't even tell you if the rift's still open." Dean grunted in response. They really had close to nothing. "I don't think the rift is still open." Jack's voice was quieter than Sam's. Dean couldn't tell if the younger angel was further away from Sam's phone or if he was afraid to speak up. Jack had been behaving extra cautiously around him for a while now, and Dean hadn't exactly given him any reason not to. As far as he was concerned, he tolerated the Nephilim, no more, no less than that. Sam had clearly already forgiven their mother's death. Dean didn't see that in the cards for him anytime soon. "What makes you say that?" Castiel inquired, saving Dean from having to respond. "The blinking stopped, didn't it? From what I understand, the table is set to sound an alarm for a specific amount of time once it has picked up a frequency. Wouldn't it still be going if the rift was still open?" By now, the rain had picked up and was coming down in buckets. Dean set Baby's windshield wipers on the highest setting. "Sam?" It took Sam a moment to respond. "I think Jack has a point. The original settings of the table allowed to track anything supernatural for as long as it was putting out a frequency. Once the radar picks up a frequency, the system should put out a warning for a minimum of ten minutes. Theoretically, if a rift stayed open any longer than... however long this one was open for, then the system should continue to alert for that amount of time in addition to the warning itself."

"Dude. English. I'm not Charlie." Dean couldn't see his brother, but assumed he was rolling his eyes at Dean's lack of technical know-how.

"When I updated the table, I didn't change the previous code. If the rift was still open, we should still be getting a signal, just like Jack said."

"Well, you could have just said that, nerd," Dean countered. He was certain that Sam was now definitely rolling his eyes.

"So we know the rift is closed. That makes it harder to find." Once again, Castiel hit the nail on the head with his matter-of-fact-ness.

"Yeah, well," Dean said, trying to make light of the situation, "we won't get to NOLA before early morning. We got time to figure it out until then."

Hope giggled in Rebekah's arms as she happily played with the fountain in the foyer, getting the both of them wet as her tiny hands repeatedly hit the surface of the water. Rebekah couldn't help but smile at her niece's joy. She leaned down to place a kiss on Hope's head when she heard hurried footsteps approaching the main entrance of the compound. Not a second later, her siblings stormed in, followed by the rest of the party that had gone out to deal with Athea.

Rebekah instinctually knew that something had gone wrong. Instead of boasting about their win like Nik' normally would have, he wore a grim, tight-lipped expression. However - and more disturbingly so - it was Elijah who had a murderous look on his face, when it was usually Niklaus who was known as the more temperamental one. Behind the two, Freya, Hayley and Jackson followed, all of them looking similarly upset. You, however, were very noticeably not part of their entourage.

"What happened?," Rebekah asked as she handed Hope over to Hayley, who had beelined straight towards the duo. Hayley accepted Hope into her arms and pressed a kiss to her child's forehead, but didn't offer an answer. Rebekah looked back at the compound entrance, expecting you to walk in any second as she waited for a reply. "Where's Y/N?" The silence that followed was stretched uncomfortably long.

"Freya? What happened?," Rebekah inquired again, this time with more urgency in her voice. Her sister sighed as she braced herself for a retelling of their recent failing when Elijah interrupted them.

"Yes, Freya, why don't you explain what happened."

The tone in Elijah's voice didn't go unnoticed, but Freya straightened her shoulders and recounted what had happened in the alley. It didn't take her long to catch Rebekah up. "Am I to understand that Athea is dead, but Y/N is trapped in another universe?" Rebekah couldn't believe it. Here she thought they'd finally found a way to trump Athea and that old crow had still outsmarted them. "But how is that even possible?"

"That, my dear sister, is something I'd like to know myself." Elijah had stopped pacing around and was now watching Freya intently. Freya, in return, took on a defensive stance.

"Are you implying something, brother? Do you honestly think I had something to do with Y/N's disappearance?"

The two siblings stared at each other for a moment before Elijah's gaze ultimately softened. "Of course not. You have proven your loyalty to this family. My first concern is to get Y/N back. I don't expect arguments over why this issue should take precedence." He paused briefly as if to give room for possible interjections, but none came. He briefly nodded at the unspoken collective agreement and continued. "However, I do believe it's necessary to investigate how Athea gained knowledge of our plan. We cannot afford a spy in our midst, even if the evil has been defeated."

"I'll put word out, see if our people can find out anything," Jackson volunteered. Klaus nodded appreciatively but held a hand out to the man. "Be careful. It shouldn't become known that we're chasing mole. We wouldn't want the rodent to scurry in fear and bury itself before we can find it." Jackson grunted in agreement and headed towards the grant entrance.

"I'll go back to Kol's playhouse, see if we missed anything. He had the banishment spell, perhaps he's hiding a retrieval spell somewhere as well." Freya shot Rebekah a look who instantly agreed. "I'll come with," she said and linked her arm through her sister's. "Four eyes see more than just two. Six eyes might see even more," she added with a look at Klaus. "I'll keep my eyes on our brother instead," the hybrid replied and patted Elijah on the shoulder. "Make sure he doesn't shred the place to pieces." He winked at his brother. Elijah scoffed. "Don't mistake me with yourself, Niklaus." Klaus grinned. "We'll hold the fort. Call us when you've got something." Freya and Rebekah nodded and left for the cemetery.

With the two Mikaelson sisters leaving, only Hayley and the two Mikaelson brothers were left at the compound. She hesitated briefly, then walked over to Elijah with Hope on her arm. She squeezed his shoulder briefly. "We'll find her, Elijah. Don't worry."

The doorbell jingled, announcing your presence to the room, but only a few eyes darted your way as you entered the bar. Your heart clenched at the familiarity of the place. This might not have been your universe, but this was every bit your Rousseaus' as you knew it. The same familiar smell, the same furniture, the same decorations. Hell, even the patrons looked the same.

"You look like you could use a drink."

How could a voice provide so much comfort and pierce your heart so harshly at the same time? It pained and gave you solace at once. There she was, polishing a glass with that warm, expectant smile she gave to any lost soul that stumbled into her bar. You'd seen her put it on about a million times and had always wondered how she always just knew. Camille wasn't a vampire, but she had a fine nose regardless that gave her the ability to sniff out the dispirited ones from a mile away. Admittedly, it sort of came with the territory. Half the people who sought out bars came to forget, not to mingle. You'd always been one to mingle. Tonight, however, you might just switch camps.

"Why don't you take a seat and I'll pour you one? First one's on the house."

Ah, there it was. The line that put a smile on the mingler's faces and got the wary ones to stay. Not that you'd needed any convincing to stay in the first place. You had nowhere else to go. Literally and figuratively.

You slid into a seat at the counter near the register. Your eyes briefly darted to the right, far-off corner of the counter, just quick enough to notice your usual spot close to the kitchen was empty. Your nails scratched at a dried spot of something unrecognizable in front of you. The chatter of the pre-evening crowd and the subtle music faded into the background as the buzzing in your ears picked back up. To have a place look and feel so much like home when it couldn't possibly be any further from your own reality...

A glass clunked down in front of you, pushed into your field of vision by a delicate hand.

"Here you go!"

You fixated on the glass for a couple of seconds before your silence stretched too long and into the territory of discourtesy. "Thank you." Your voice was small, barely above a whisper. Nevertheless, Camille had heard you, as her hand moved over to yours and squeezed it gently.

"You're welcome. If you need to talk, wave me down. I'm a good listener!" You didn't have to look up to know she'd winked at you warmly. You'd heard it in her voice, and you'd seen her do it too many times to not know. You'd always been in awe of her ability to have her warmth, combined with a drink, provide immediate, albeit small relief to people she didn't know. It would have worked on you too, had it not been for the fact that your best friend showed no sign of recognizing you. She was giving you the same lonesome duckling treatment that she gave all her customers. You'd always wondered what it would have felt like if you hadn't know Camille and had just randomly wondered in one night, looking to forget and to be provided with her solicitude. Now, that you were on the receiving side of it, it was just painful.

Two drinks later, you still hadn't said a single word. Cami had wordlessly replaced your first drink once you had emptied it and hovered around you from time to time, to see if you would open up. But you couldn't bring yourself to talk. Hell, so far, you hadn't even managed to look her in the eyes. You just couldn't. To look up and find absolutely no recognition in her eyes - you were sure it would wipe out the last of whatever was keeping you upright in your seat right now.

The doorbell jingled again, followed by a quick set of steps that approached the register. "Hey Cami, you got a quick burger for me?" You felt your insides tighten as the man who'd stopped next to you spoke. He was drumming on the countertop with his index-fingers, blissfully unaware of your reaction. "You got it, Vince. Just give me a couple minutes," Camille replied and turned away from the wall of liquor she'd just been busying herself with. She was about to pass you by when she slowed down in front of you. You could feel her eyes watching you, piercing the top of your head. You hadn't only not spoken, you also hadn't looked up once since you'd come in. "Hey, why don't you wait over by the kitchen? You can snack on a few fries, if you want," she added after a brief pause. You heard Vincent clap his hands together in excitement. "You ain't gotta tell me twice," he quipped before he strode off to the kitchen. A hand snuck into your field of vision again, softly tugging at one of your fingers. "Hey, make sure you don't break this one, yeah? Blood is such a bitch to clean up." Your brows furrowed in confusion before you realized that you were clutching your glass so tightly, your knuckles had turned white. You forced yourself to relax your fingers and in return received an approving pat on your hand. "There you go. Thanks!"

You couldn't help it but glance up then. Camille smiled and winked at you, before she sauntered off after Vincent. You watched this world's version of your best friend as she disappeared into the kitchen and couldn't help but wonder if anyone had ever felt more lonely than you in this very second.

A/N: Only took me forever to get here, but we've made it, chapter 2 is here! I had this chapter planned out for so long but couldn't find the right words. Not a lot of action compared to the previous chapter, but I promise, there is more to come! How's Y/N gonna get on all by herself? And how are Dean and Cas go about finding out what happened to the rift in NOLA? Stay tuned to find out! 😉

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#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #the originals fic #the originals imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #the originals #elijah mikaelson fic #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fic #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine

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