When Klaus fucks her, he's rough, rude, demanding.
Unrelenting.
He doesn't give her a chance to properly adjust to his cock after he's slammed it inside of her, holding her wrists down by her face so she can't move unless he tells her she's allowed to.
Elena likes this. She likes the feeling of shutting off her brain, likes the look on Klaus' face when he takes whatever he wants from her as fast as he can.
Because that's the thing with them - there's always a time limit.
There's always someone waiting on her. Always someone waiting on him. Elena's got two sets of brothers constantly vying for her attention and a group of friends big enough to form their own team that are always wanting to make plans with her, always looking out for her. It's exhausting, but in her most selfish moments, she admits that she likes it.
She likes a lot of things that she keeps hidden, just for herself. But around Klaus, she's free to express some of those things. Her logic is: she can't be worse than him - she can't be meaner, could never be as violent as him, could never be as cold-hearted.
Around Klaus, Elena can admit that she has no intention of ever choosing anyone. It's a lie she tells Stefan and Damon, a lie that she now tells Elijah, but never Klaus.
She doesn't need to lie to him.
"I know your secret," he says, after he's fucked her so hard her core feels bruised, refusing to cuddle her to his chest like Damon or Stefan or Elijah probably would, but still comfortable enough to draw little shapes and patterns on the skin of her stomach, enjoying the way she jolts when it tickles. He makes that statement after she put a pause on starting round two, had to check her phone from where it was buzzing with Damon's number on the screen.
Elena is confused, because she has no secrets. Not with the men in her life. Klaus knows about Damon, knows about Stefan, knows about his brother. The same goes for the rest of them.
"What's my secret?" Elena asks, lying unashamedly naked. With anyone else, she'd normally cover herself up with a sheet. She lets Klaus draw a heart on her hip, pretends that the realization of the shape he's drawing doesn't make butterflies erupt in her stomach.
"I know you'll never choose," is all he says, and his voice makes a warm tingle run up her spine. As his finger traces over her taut stomach, she spreads her legs, unashamed and greedy around Klaus.
Mirroring the traits he has.
He bends her over and fucks her into the mattress, grips her hips so hard he leaves bruises.
Stefan will be protective, ask her who or what hurt her, if there's anything he can do. Damon will be jealous, because he's always jealous of any ounce of attention she gives anyone else. He doesn't really want to share, but he wants her, so he'll deal. Elijah will just be accepting. He's older than the rest of them and it shows. He'll run his fingers over the bruises and press kisses into them, and depending on his mood, will either make a point to not touch them or decide to make new ones on top. Ones with his fingerprints.
Elena wonders if Klaus is rough with her for any reason other than his own pleasure. His own turn-ons. She wonders if he was dominant and rough with the pretty blondes he used to take home, or if his aggression in the bedroom with her is just to make a point. Make his mark. Show Stefan and Damon and Elijah what they get up to when they're alone.
It's hard enough to imagine your girlfriend with another guy, even without a reminder, Elena thinks. Klaus is selfish and mean and aggressive, and apparently possessive too.
But it's okay, Elena supposes, because she can be selfish around him too. Klaus reminds her of who Damon used to be before he fell in love with her.
And she can't have that happen with Klaus - can't have him getting all soft and needy about her, because she needs this. The rough edge. She'll take whatever he gives her for as long as he'll give it to her, because she just can't stay away from the dark.
Really, she thinks sometimes, if only Klaus knew how much she enjoys it when he plays rough with her, he'd probably think he was doing her a favor.
There's something inherently sad about the Salvatore brothers. Especially Damon. Elena wonders if that's what drew her to them in the first place. Just like how control is something the Mikaelson brothers seem to have issues with, sadness could be the thing that defines the Salvatores.
But Stefan would never admit to being sad.
Stefan can pretend, with all his positive thinking and all his self-help books and green juices and waking her up at six in the morning to go for a run, that he's not rotting from the inside out with whatever sadness eats at him.
But Damon - he doesn't pretend. Damon can be cruel and mean and selfish like Klaus, he can be dark.
But he's not scared of the dark. Elena sometimes wonders how they ever shared a room, a fact Stefan told her about their childhood. She's sure Stefan needed a nightlight, but Damon? She thinks he's probably never been scared of the dark.
Damon's changed though. He's not as dark as he used to be, which should be a good thing, Elena supposes - but she's already admitted she can be pretty selfish.
Elena misses who Damon used to be.
In between all their hugs and their late-night talks. Between their first meeting, when Stefan couldn't pick her up from a class after a work emergency so he sent his handsome older brother. The time Stefan left the living room when they'd all been drinking and having a movie night, let Damon kiss her because he loves his brother and he loves Elena and he loves, most of all, feeling sorry for himself.
In those moments -love happened. Damon loves her, and that changed him. Elena knows she should be grateful but she can't help it.
She wants the Damon that reminded her of Klaus. She wants the Damon that'd pin her to the bed and put her over his knee for fun, not the guy whispering and pressing wet kisses into her shoulder, telling her he's glad she's here, how much he loves her.
That's supposed to be Stefan's job.
Elena wonders if she'll be cursed to fall for brothers forever. She wonders why that is. She thinks of her own brother all the time, still in high school while she's gone off to college in a city an hour away and lives her own life. She wonders if Jenna and Ric are taking good care of him - actually, she knows they are. She just wonders if it's enough.
Damon finds her on a night out with Caroline. He texts her and asks what she's up to because Stefan is out of town with Klaus and Elijah for work and he knows he'll have her all to himself. Damon knows about Klaus and Elijah, and he obviously knows about Stefan. Elena wonders if he's jealous that Stefan didn't invite him on this trip with the rest of the crew. Stefan can be petty like that.
Sometimes when Elena gets mad with Damon's constant jealousy over the Mikaelson brothers, she has to bite her tongue before she tells Damon that there wouldn't be anyone else besides him and Stefan, if only he didn't change so much.
But even though Elena might be selfish - she's not mean. She keeps her opinion on that part of all of this quiet.
Elena can pretend to be annoyed by it, but she loves the cat-and-mouse game she plays with Damon. She, like most people, most women, wants to be chased.
So when Damon asks her what's up and what she's doing tonight, she tells him not to worry about it.
But Damon is Damon and he ends up finding her at a club. Probably from her cryptic texts. Probably from Caroline's social media. It doesn't really matter to Elena, the how is unimportant. What's important is that he found her.
That's something she can count on.
The club is blasting music and she's wearing a lace camisole, no sweater, a tiny skirt that shows off her thighs and a pair of knee-high boots that she needed Caroline's obsessive approval of before she felt comfortable enough to wear them out of her apartment.
They dance before Caroline goes and gets them a drink, two vodka tonics, and it's only when her blonde head disappears from view that Elena feels two warm hands on her hips, two strong arms wrap around her waist, a solid chest hit her back and a pair of soft lips press against her neck.
Elena knows who it is. Not because she can tell Damon's hands over Elijah's or Klaus' or Stefan's. Not because Damon is logically the only one in town.
No, Elena can tell who it is because the way Damon holds onto her is like he's scared she'll bolt. Scared she won't stay. Scared he doesn't really possess her, and for some reason, Elena responds to that.
"I can't have a night off?" She questions, turning in Damon's arms so they're face to face. He's so handsome, so perfect, sometimes it feels like he was sculpted and not just born like everyone else. Damon smirks at her, but it's one that doesn't reach his eyes. He doesn't mean it. He doesn't think it's amusing, this -having to share her.
It was never an agreement. It was never a talk. It just happened.
Elena met Stefan on campus last year and they started dating, they fell in love. Stefan told her about his work, the illegal, violent things he did with Klaus and Elijah and his brother, and Elena didn't care. His line of work explained his gorgeous house in the city, the nice car he drove and the expensive things he always tried to buy her.
Then she met Damon, her dreamboat's brother, and he was perfect for her in all the ways Stefan wasn't. They started dating, although less traditionally than the way she dated Stefan. Instead of dinner dates and picnics in the park, a slow burn that quickly turned to emotional intimacy, dating Damon consisted more of concerts and drinks in the city, getting high if she didn't have a class the next day, lots of sex and intensity.
It worked, for a while, her thing with Stefan and Damon. Until Damon fell in love with her and Stefan brought his friends from work around and she met Klaus. And then Elijah.
On the club floor, Damon leans in and kisses her, and when he swipes his tongue over her bottom lip Elena opens her mouth, lets him take control. He tastes like sour candy and bourbon, a combo so Damon, when she realizes that he must've got into the bag of candy she left in the kitchen at his place with Stefan.
It's so like Damon, she thinks, to find pieces of her in everything. Everywhere. To look for her. To want to consume bits of her.
When Caroline comes back she visibly frowns, drinks in hand. "Party crasher," she insults Damon, and Elena just smirks. Her favorite song is playing and she wants to get sweaty, wants to watch her hot, complicated boyfriend under neon strobe lights - wants what happens when they go home together. She has some ideas.
So she tells Caroline, "I want him to stay." A simple statement, but one that makes the stud in the leather jacket, easily the strongest man in the club, appear relieved.
That means a lot to Damon, she knows. Being chosen.
Elena knows because that's what being chased by him feels like to her.
Elena's just returned to the city from a weekend back at home. A weekend filled with lots of tears and hugs and the sharing of old stories. A weekend with her aunt Jenna and Ric, her little brother who's not so little anymore, Jeremy.
She's just finished putting on her pajamas when she gets a text from Elijah. She's been ignoring Stefan, ignoring Damon, and she hasn't even texted with Klaus since before he left on another business trip.
She's too burned out. In her tiny apartment, a studio that she wouldn't be able to afford without help from Stefan and the fund her parents left for her when they passed away that's quickly dwindling by the day, she misses her bed at home. Misses the posters on the wall and the family pictures, misses the smell of the fabric softener that Jenna still uses that reminds her of her mother, how a hug from Alaric felt so nice, safe.
Part of her wants to ignore Elijah, but her immaturity seems highlighted when she interacts with someone like him. An older man. So sophisticated. So she replies.
He tells her he has a gift for her, and she says she'll get it the next time she sees him. Elena can't imagine what gift Elijah would have for her, but she can't deny the way her heart starts racing, knowing he saw something and thought about her.
She knows Elijah likes her, maybe even loves her, although they haven't said those words yet. But it just feels good to have proof of that. Sometimes, her relationships with the Mikaelson brothers feels like a distant dream. Hard to believe.
She hears a buzz which means someone's trying to get into her apartment, and while she hopes it's Elijah, is almost certain it is, she worries it might be Stefan. She doesn't want to deal with being coddled, even if that's probably the main thing she needs right now.
Her phone buzzes after the apartment does, and Elena knows it's Elijah and lets him up. The minute he's inside with the door closed, he's pulling her into his arms. She didn't know the next time they saw each other would be so soon.
Elijah is strong, solid, and he smells like expensive cologne and his suit material feels good against her cheek when she presses her face against his chest. She swears every suit he wears costs more than her rent, and something about that excites her.
"Elena," he says, and his voice is like a phone call home. She doesn't know why. Doesn't know why the presence of this dangerous, violent man is so comforting, but she leans into it. Leans into him.
She realizes she doesn't know a lot about this man, and something about that and having him standing in her apartment spurs her on. Makes her feel a little less like the good girl her family, friends, Stefan, even Damon, all want her to be.
When they pull away, Elijah hands her a box. It's wrapped in pink paper, and it smells like perfume. She didn't notice it when he hugged her, but now, like a kid on Christmas, Elena rips apart the paper and to see what it is.
She opens it and she sees her favorite shampoo and conditioner on a bed of purple paper confetti. She runs her finger over the cursive lettering on the pink bottles, knows she can't pronounce the words in French on the bottle, and wonders how Elijah managed to get this for her.
She would have never guessed a man like him could be so thoughtful.
"Thought I owed you this," he says, and there's a smile in his voice, and Elena knows he means it. Like he cares about her, not just in a friendly way, but in a way where he wants the best for her.
She thinks that maybe she's reading too much into it. That just because an older man is giving her attention, doesn't mean she should go full-on daddy issues and believe he has positive intentions. Because the truth is that men like Elijah, Klaus, Damon, even Stefan - they're dangerous. They kill and harm for a living. They make a fortune off of hurting other people.
But she wants to believe she'll be okay. And she stands on that promise to herself, sets the gift box on the shitty little coffee table she picked up at a thrift store before she met Stefan and hugs Elijah tight. Again.
Elena knows that comparing her men is wrong, but sometimes she can't help it. She thinks about the gifts Stefan gets her. They're always things he thinks a woman would want, but they're never for her specifically. Expensive shoes and purses, little weekend trips out of town, perfume that's a little too floral for her taste. She's grateful, of course she is, but the things Elena cherishes are more practical.
Like Stefan paying her rent.
Klaus gifts her jewelry that she'll never wear, buys her plane tickets to exotic places they'll never make, and Damon gives her things that he thinks she needs but will never use. Spa weekends, reiki healing, an online course in relaxing the nervous system. Elena wants to scoff just thinking about it.
But this shampoo and conditioner set, it seems silly, but it means a lot. It shows Elena that Elijah listens to her, values what she says, and she knows that all the men in her life love her and care about her as much as they can, but there's something she worries about. Thoughts that hit her when she's alone at night, or beside one of them while another one texts her goodnight.
Could she be anyone, she wonders? Any pretty face, accepting of their lifestyle, willing to be shared by multiple difficult men? Elena questions that on the daily.
With her face pressed to Elijah's chest, his hand rubbing circles on her back, she lets out a breath. Thinks about the way Elijah fucked her last week in her shower. The way he picked her up, slippery skin chafing against each other. The way he soaped up her body with her teal-colored loofa, pinched her nipples that were covered in suds, made her cum against the shower wall until they slipped and knocked into her soap rack, her shampoo and conditioner spilling all over the floor.
Elena let out a cry when it happened. Not because she's a clean freak, but because her parents used to get her that shampoo and conditioner from France when they'd visit every year. It's expensive and impossible to find but Elijah - he must've taken a picture of the bottle. She's never even thought to buy it herself because it's too expensive, and she always feared the meaning of it would be lost. Like trying to force something to be good again, ruining the magic of it all together.
But this is still special.
Something so small, and yet - Elena can't remember the last time anyone did something so thoughtful for her.
"Thank you. I love it," she whispers, without needing to say anything else, feeling fragile and emotional and overwhelmed.
Elijah kisses the top of her head.
Elena has always believed in true love.
That first meeting between two people, the shot-by-cupid feeling. Before Stefan, she always imagined there'd be electricity and fireworks and love at first sight. Spent most of her adolescence with her childhood best friend, Bonnie, watching romantic movies and wondering when that'd happen to her.
Instead of the dramatics, love came to her with compliments and a strong hand holding the door open. It came to her smelling clean and masculine, with perfect hair and a handsome face, looking like a good guy and asking her if she wanted to get Italian food after class on Friday.
Elena fell in love with Stefan fast. It didn't feel fast, not like she expected. Instead, falling in love with Stefan felt like slowly coming home, which is cheesy and cringey but true. Safe. Comfortable.
Boring.
But Elena loves him, don't get her wrong. He does so much for her. He's a perfect man - if you overlook what he does for a living. What he does to give her all the things he thinks she wants.
He plans a picnic for them on a summer day, after half a year has gone by with Elijah and Klaus so personally in her life. Her love for Damon, for everyone, grows stronger every day. She sits on a red gingham blanket that Stefan lays out, stretches her legs in front of her and crosses them at the ankles. Stefan places a hand over where they cross.
This was his idea, a picnic. Elena doesn't mind. She's a girl, after all, and dates like this fill her heart up almost enough to combat the cynicism she has inside of her, ever since her parents died.
Stefan feeds her raspberries and strawberries and she licks at the pads of his fingers to get the juice off, lets him kiss her in front of everyone in the middle of the park in the city, lets him claim her, because really, she ultimately belongs to him, doesn't she?
If someone was to ask who her boyfriend was, she'd say Stefan. She loves Damon, Elijah, Klaus, but Stefan is good for her. He's the reason for all of this,all of them, and he means well. Treats her better than he should.
With the sun on her neck, the sweet taste of berry on her tongue, Stefan's touch on her leg, he looks at her with an expression she can't quite read.
"Who'd you see last night?" He questions, and Elena quirks an eyebrow.
"I was studying. Alone," she says, but she's worried she knows where this is going. Stefan wasn't like this in the beginning. Just like Damon changed, Elena sees that now Stefan is too. The thought scares her, almost as much as the fact that Klaus admitting he loves her didn't end up changing him at all.
He just hums at her reply. Pissed off, she can tell. Annoyed. But he won't outright say it. Stefan is passive-aggressive, whereas the rest of her men - they just let it out.
She thinks back to last weekend when Klaus punched a hole in the wall, upset that she'd dare wear a necklace Elijah gave her around him when she's yet to wear any of the jewelry he's gifted her.
She doesn't know how to tell him she prefers gold over silver. Doesn't know how to nicely say she enjoys his gifts, but that an emerald and ruby necklace isn't exactly appropriate for yoga with Caroline and an economics class.
"Come on, Stefan," she urges, poking his leg with her foot. He's gone all quiet, detached, and Elena doesn't like it. "I really was alone."
Later that night, after their picnic, they get drunk on expensive wine and Stefan fucks her hard. Missionary, of course, but her head hits the wooden headboard so roughly it hurts.
And not in the way she likes. Because Stefan - he's not supposed to be rough. He's supposed to be loving, is supposed to kiss over the bruises left by the others, should be the one to cuddle her and kiss her softly, ask her if she wants some tea after they clean up and get cozy in bed.
Elena doesn't know if Damon is home. She hopes he isn't. She covers up with the bedsheet, lets Stefan hold her, plays with his ring when his arms wrap around her. But she's nervous. Anxious.
Lately she wonders what she's gotten herself into. If maybe Stefan only let her have her other options so she'd be distracted from his work. So he'd have something over her. She doesn't know. Maybe Elena is a little paranoid, a trait picked up from more time with Klaus, probably.
"I love you, Elena," Stefan says, and she knows he means it. Knows that above everything else, Stefan really feels like that's true. And it probably is.
"I know," she says back.
"Stay the night. Don't leave," Stefan says to her, voice tired and even a little cute, which is crazy to even about someone that's a trained killer, but it makes him even more endearing. Elena promises she won't leave.
But she slips out of bed when his breathing changes, pulls on one of his shirts that's much too big for her, and walks to the balcony where a view of the city is breathtakingly beautiful. Damon's there, and without saying a word, he passes her his cigarette.