You sleep well in Kol's arms, comforted and warm and safe. You're lingering in that in-between space, when you're still asleep but aware of it and you know there's hours more til dawn, when Kol wakes up screaming.

You bolt upright in bed.

"Kol?"

He doesn't answer.

"Are you alright?" It's almost like he can't see you, eyes glazed over with remnants from his dream. "It's not real," you promise, fear creeping into your voice, "You're here. You're safe."

"They're getting worse," Kol finally grits out, "The nightmares."

"What happened?"

"My bloody mother happened," he spits and dashes out of bed, "That bitch can't stand to see any of us happy." He paces like an animal, trapped and angry.

You swallow. "What did she do?"

"Standard shite. Killing me and trapping me in the other side, then going on to kill everyone I care about." He scoffs. "The woman isn't very creative."

You neglect saying that it still looks like she struck a nerve. You rise out from under the sheets and step closer to him, wary of making anything worse.

"You're okay now. Is there anything I can do?"

Kol laughs, a terrible noise.

"Unless you can kill my parents," he says bitterly, "I'm afraid not."

You don't hug him even though you very much want to.

He wouldn't take it well in his current state, you think.

Instead you make coffee and stay up watching movies with Kol until dawn crests through the window. He barely blinks in the long hours of darkness. It reminds you of when you were too scared to sleep. Tormented by nightmares. You had Finn, then, and now Kol has you.

Kol is almost back to himself by the time true morning comes. At least, he wants you to think he is. He's twitchier. Quieter.

Not for the first time, you wonder what kind of mother the Mikaelsons have for her to do things like this. You're not unused to bad parents, but this scrapes against your skin like sandpaper.

You can't imagine having a child and doing anything other than loving them whole-heartedly.

(The Mikaelson Matriarch must have loved her children at some point. She's the one who gave them immortality. You can understand with the desire, the need, for your children to be safe. But to spend millennia afterwards haunting them? Trying to kill them all out of what— regret? Shame?)

You can't understand any of it.

Lunchtime approaches.

"I'm going to make a salad." you ask from the kitchen, "Do you want to help?"

Kol glances up from his hunched-over spot on the couch. His face morphs into something cheerful. You wished he wouldn't.

But you know the need to hide what you're feeling.

"Of course, darling."

You put him in charge of slicing the tomato. You almost instantaneously regret it when you you're catapulted back to a memory of your mother making pasta on your birthday one year, not remembering the significance of the date. You were turning seven. You remember your old kitchen table with chipping paint you would strip off with your finger nails, even after your parents scolded you. The left leg wobbled. Every time your father rested his forearms on the table, your plate shifted away from you and you swallowed bite after bite, laced with bitter disappointment.

You shake your head, trying to rid your mind of useless, dead memories, to no avail.

Finally, you cave.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Just did."

You roll your eyes. "You're not funny, Kol."

He flashes you a smile.

"I think I'm hilarious."

"Do you remember exactly you said when you compelled me?"

Kol's brow furrows. "I believe I said something along the lines of 'remember everything you've forgotten'."

Of course he did. May as well have just told you to remember all the bits and bobs of your childhood you gleefully hid away.

"… No chance there's a way to undo that, is there?"

Kol hesitates. "Not unless you fancy losing half your memories."

"I think I'll pass," you say grimly, "I've been remembering stupid stuff I thought I forgot."

"Like what?"

You scrunch your nose. "Bad childhood stuff, mostly. I also remembered my Webkinz password."

"What on Earth is a Webkinz?"

"First off, I'm delighted to be the one to share this with you," you say, "It's this online game you can play with virtual stuffed animals. You buy the stuffed animal in real life and it comes with a code attached to it. You can play games and stuff."

"… And you need this password why?"

"I don't," you say dryly, "But I do miss Tile Towers."

You get an exorbitant amount of joy when the Mikaelsons don't understand what you're talking about and just stare at you blankly. You stifle a laugh. "At least we know I haven't been compelled to forget anything. Why do you think I forgot about my dreams with Freya?"

"There could be a few reasons," Kol muses, "Magic is the most reasonable answer. Your brain could also simply be protecting you."

"… Do you think Freya did it on purpose?"

It's something you've been contemplating since your brain started waking up. You know Freya the least well out of the Mikaelsons. She's haunted by something— even you can tell that. You just don't know what.

Thankfully, Kol shakes his head. "I doubt it. Her magic is the strongest I've had the pleasure of seeing. If she magicked you to forget, my compulsion would not be able to override it."

Strangely, the thought brings you comfort.

"That's nice to know. I guess I'll just deal with whatever memories pop up."

"If you need anything, I'm sure we could find some spell to aid you," Kol says, "Here, I'm done with the tomato."

You finish making lunch and think about your younger self, too lonely for her own good. She never would have thought she'd end up here. You tend to waver on whether you want kids or not. Depends on the day. (You think you would be good at it. You didn't always. Having neglectful parents doesn't infuse one with confidence. But now it's different.)

There's time to decide.

(Really, you have nothing but time anymore.)

You stay at Kol's apartment for days. He doesn't have another nightmare and seems to relax by the next day.

At least, you think he does.

You haven't spent this much time alone with him before. You find yourself luxuriating in it. It's safe here, tucked away where no one else can find you. You watch movies and have delightful sex and deal with the myriad of new memories that keep popping up from your subconscious like a bad horror movie jumpscare.

It's slowing down, finally. It doesn't get easier, per se, but you get used to it.

It is starting to reignite your past urges to ruin your parents' lives.

Kol is sweet about it— distressed that you're suffering anything at all. You think the Mikaelsons, given their way, would wrap you in bubblewrap.

You love them for it. You're grateful they resist the urge.

You're curled up on Kol's couch, half laying on his chest and watching your weight in silent films. Well, trying to watch.

You keep getting distracted.

Kol's sharp silhouette stands out in contrast from the light from the TV. He's stunning: dark hair and lashes, derisive eyes that turn genuine when he looks at you.

He turns to you.

"What are you looking at?" he asks, amused.

"You."

"I grasped that. Why?"

"Because you're beautiful, which you already know."

He flashes a grin before rolling over so he's on top of you, a solid weight pressing you into the couch stuffing.

"Oh am I?" he teases and presses a kiss to your jaw.

"Yes, asshole," you grumble, "Don't pretend to be modest. You've had a thousand years of people telling you that you're pretty."

He hums. You feel the vibration in your throat.

"Not necessarily. Most of the time they were more concerned with me eating them."

"You know some people might take it the wrong way when you say that so close to their neck."

You feel him grin before he shifts to look at you.

"Sorry, beloved."

You don't know what it is— the warmth in his eyes that turn them an almost golden brown, how the skin around his eyes smoothes into untempered contentment— but you abruptly and all at once understand the urge to consume the person you love.

"Would you ever want to bite me?" you ask, "Since I haven't gone back on vervain yet."

Kol stills and you get the feeling you've said something wrong. You flush. "Was that rude?"

"No," Kol says quickly, "It's… Blood sharing is considered very intimate for vampires— the exchange of it, anyway. You consume part of your partner and they receive part of you in return."

"Oh," you say, blanching and more than a little hurt, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you do something you don't want to do."

Kol takes your hand. "That's not what I meant. I—" he falters, "I don't know how much my siblings have spoken on this to you, if at all. I have issues with blood."

"In what way?"

"Once I start I cannot stop," he says bitterly, "If I tried to drink from you, there's a good chance you would die from it."

Oh.

(Some of his sibling's actions click into place. Klaus saying Kol is the most wild of them. Him looking almost sickly when he's hungry. Even Marcel's warnings.)

"I'm sorry," you say because you are and it's the thing you're supposed to say, "Is there anything that helps it?"

"I've had a thousand years to fight it. I rarely even want to."

"But now you do?"

He looks into your eyes with his guilt-ridden gaze. "More than ever."

There's a lot you still don't understand about vampirism. Customs, traditions. Instincts. Some you understand on a surface level, but nothing deeper. You imagine the jealousy and sorrow Kol must feel at you being able to share something deeply intimate with others and not with him. Try to imagine the hurt of being addicted to the very thing that gives you life.

You swallow, make up your mind, and stand up.

"Darling?" Kol asks, following you into the kitchen, "What are you doing?"

You pull a paring knife out of the drawer.

"You can't bite me without losing control, so would this be better?"

"Darling…"

"I don't want to—" you falter, wondering if this is hurting more than helping, "I want to share this with you, but I don't want to trigger anything."

Kol steps closer to you, gently taking your wrist. "Not too much."

He guides the knife to your thumb. You press down, red droplet beading on your skin. You offer your thumb to him. Kol's face ripples, veins going almost black around his eyes, leaching color from his skin. You've never really gotten a good look at any of them while they're feeding.

Kol is horrifying and beautiful. Sharp teeth emerge from where his canines are as he delicately sucks the blood off of your skin. He pulls you out of your daze as he bites his thumb and offers it to you.

You accept it. Your heart aches at the thought of him not being able to have this— you not being able to give it to him. But now you can.

Kol watches you rapturously, eyes dark as you gently suck. A ting of iron fills your mouth, familiar energy alighting in your veins. For a brief moment you're surprised even a small amount like this can affect you so much. Then Kol pulls away.

"You are amazing," Kol says, right before crashing his mouth into yours. The knife clatters on the counter, forgotten, as you seize onto him.

Kol lowers your back to the floor and kicks your legs apart. The weight of his body presses you into the carpeting. Some ravenous pulse jolts through you. You taste teeth and spread your legs wider around him. Kol groans against your lips.

"You're going to be the death of me."

You can't even find the words to respond, too consumed with the need for him to touch you. You kick off your pants. Kol runs appreciative hands up your legs, lingering at your thighs. You want them to go higher.

He presses bruising kisses on your neck, bites you with blunt human teeth. It doesn't hurt— not really, just aches down your spine until it coils around in your stomach. You reflexively dig your nails into his shoulders. He arches against you, moaning something incoherent against your ear. (He likes being hurt, you realize. Well, to the extent you can harm something like Kol. You wonder…) You roll him onto his back, propping yourself up with your hand splayed on his collarbone. Kol lets you— seeming content to see where this goes. His eyes glitter as he looks up at you. You can't help the smile that slides over your face.

"I love you," you say. Your hand creeps closer to the base of his throat. You watch, enraptured, as his eyelids flutter. "Can I?" you ask, touching the soft skin of his throat.

"What on Earth are they teaching women these days?" Kol scoffs but his breath hitches.

"I'm taking that as a yes."

"Jesus Christ."

You know, in reality, there's no danger of you actually hurting Kol. He's strong enough that he could stop you. Still, you don't squeeze very hard when you wrap his hand around his neck, cutting off breath you're not actually sure he needs to survive.

He hardens beneath you.

Vindication.

You watch rapturously as his eyes close, mouth slightly agape. You've never seen him like this. Unbuttoned.

You kiss him viciously once he can breathe again. Your teeth clack together and you barely care. Kol breaks off.

"Get up here," he desperately gasps. Your eyebrows draw together in confusion until Kol pulls you over his mouth. He tears your underwear off of you, something you'd complain about more if they were expensive and you weren't dripping.

He presses you into his mouth as he eats you out. Part of you worries about crushing his head. The other part of you can't find it in yourself to care as he drives you closer and closer to the edge. He nudges your knees wider apart, making room for him to fuck you with his fingers. You topple over, barely catching yourself before face planting on the floor. You arms tremble underneath you as he shifts his mouth from your clit to suck bruises onto your thighs, fingers propelling you harder and harder into madness.

You don't usually like this, not to this extent. And you've never come from it alone.

"Kol," you manage to say, "Please just fuck me."

He doesn't listen. Kol doesn't usually like listening.

He keeps fucking you with only his fingers and your muscles aren't relaxed enough to come. Or that's what you think, until it hits you. Your thighs try to close, involuntary muscular spasms. Kol pries them apart as you come, never stopping his efforts. It's almost too much.

Kol, evidently, agrees. He releases you and you drop to the floor, panting.

"Do you need a moment?" He asks, eyes hungry.

You shake your head.

Something in Kol snaps and he rolls you onto your back. His gaze turns appreciative for a brief moment before reverting to that ravenous expression. He unzips his pants and that's enough. You catch a glimpse of his cock before he's burying himself inside you with a groan. You're dripping and too sensitive still— loud wail escaping you.

"Kol," you plead when he's still for a second too long, "Please."

Like he usually does with you, he obeys.

You lose the ability to think. You can't even move, trapped by the inescapable pleasure coursing through you. Distantly, you're aware you're being too loud for an apartment with neighbors. You can't seem to stop.

Kol is fierce and ravenous. Unbidden, you get the thought he would consume you whole if he didn't love you so much.

You don't mind the thought.

You come again, this time aware it's happening, and shake uncontrollably in his arms.

"Are you alright?" Kol asks, more amused than worried. You don't have it in you to banter with him.

"Please don't stop."

He doesn't and you ascend to a higher plane. You're distantly aware of him fucking you and coming inside you— more like it's a dream you're remembering than something happening right now. You come back to, curled in Kol's arms.

You swallow, throat feeling like sandpaper.

"What on Earth just happened?"

"Has that never happened before?" Kol asks curiously.

You shake your head. "Never."

His face splits into a mischievous grin.

"You're incredible," he murmurs, holding you tighter. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and you shiver, open-mouthed. "So sensitive."

"Kol."

"Alright, alright," he gives in, "I'll stop."

You turn around so you can face him in all his terrible beauty, eyes scanning his face.

"I love you," you blurt out again. Now that you've said it once, it keeps leaking out of you again and again. You wonder when it'll run out. You wonder if it will run out.

"I love you," Kol says and sweeps you into a kiss.

You sleep through the night in Kol's arms.

The end of the week nears. You knew you were going to have to leave the safe haven you've created with Kol at some point. There's still his parents— Elijah and Rebekah and Klaus— to deal with. You knew it was coming.

Selfishly, you wish it didn't have to.

"Were you serious about leaving Klaus?" you ask one evening when you're making dinner together. Kol doesn't ask what you mean. You suspect he was waiting for you to ask.

"Given the opportunity," he says finally, "I would willingly and ecstatically let him rot for another decade or too. But if you want me to, I will help."

"I do."

Kol looks at you wistfully. "I suppose I should be grateful for one reason," he says, "He's the reason I ever met you."

"Kol."

"Freya and I are going to go to New Orleans tomorrow, we can see about Nik then." he continues, "We're going to see Marcel and the witches."

"Oh," you say and then a heartbeat later, "Does Elijah know?"

Kol's lips curl menacingly. "He'll find out when we're on the plane." He slices an onion harshly.

"When did you plan this?"

He glances at you, guilty. "This morning. I was going to bring it up over dinner."

"You don't have to be scared to bring things up with me. I don't bite."

"I know," he says and sets down his knife, "I suppose I just didn't want to break the spell. I wish we could stay like this forever."

It's strange, hearing your inner thoughts echoed aloud.

"I wish we could too."

He takes you in his arms and kisses your forehead.

"I know I shouldn't say anything," you say, eventually, "it's your life and wellbeing that was in danger, but I don't think Elijah was really going to dagger you. I think he was just scared."

Kol's eyes close off for the first time since you came here.

"You may be right," he says, "But I don't care."

You smile at him sadly. You figured that was the answer.

"Will you be alright staying with Finn?" he continues, "He's the only family member left who hasn't been compromised."

"Confirmed compromised," you correct, "I'm still thinking the best of Rebekah."

If Kol thinks you're an idiot, he doesn't show it.

"Either way, I would feel best if you were with Finn."

"You've really planned this out, haven't you?"

"I…" He squeezes your hands involuntarily, "I just need to know you're safe."

You soften.

"I know," you say quietly, "And I will be. Finn's taken good care of me before."

"Yes, he's good like that," Kol says dryly, "Perks of being the eldest."

"Hey," you say, nudging him, "There's still Freya."

"Semantics."

You have dinner and spend the night wrapped up in each other like you'll never see each other again. You know you will. It doesn't make leaving easier.

You drive to Finn's the next morning.

Hope you guys liked the chapter :) We get to see Finn next chapter!