Klaus Mikaelson Imagines (Klaus x Reader)

"Near Light"

Imagine spending a leisure day with Klaus in New Orleans, beginning with him painting you while you're sleeping to add to his vast collection (just ignore this weird description, it'll make sense I promise :D)  

Klaus loved painting, everyone knew that. He loved the way the paintbrush moved over the canvas with ease, the control he had over what would be yet another masterpiece.

Whenever he would paint, it was as if he dipped the brush right into his soul. It reached parts that he could never explain with even the purest of words. Not that he was good with words anyway.

Painting, however, he was good at. And it required nothing of what he was known for; no violence, no snarky remarks nor creative threats - nothing but a few hues of color, a blank canvas and a paintbrush.

And he revelled in that.

The sheer control of envisioning something in his mind and then stroke by stroke bringing it to life was as close as he could get to being divine. It was as if some god-like power was stowed upon him. He created art with the same set of hands he created bloodshed and suffering. In a strange way, it empowered him. If the same hands that destroy, have the ability to create something magnificent, there was still hope.

But all the hope and internal pleasing aside, there was something he loved more than the process of painting itself. It was painting you.

And so on a late, sunny but breezy morning, he added to his vast collection by painting you sprawled out on the pillow, sheets wrapped around your body. The sunlight scattered through the glass and bathed your hair and the skin of your exposed back in a golden light.

Klaus was smitten when he awoke to such a view, and he had to attempt to capture the beauty before him on one of his canvases.

"Lie still, my love. The light is beautiful this morning." He said when you reached over to his side of the bed, searching for him.

"Painting me like one of your french girls again, huh?" You sighed against the pillow, your voice slightly muffled by the soft fabric "Don't you have a dozen of these already?

"A man can never have enough of which he adores." And I adore you - is what he didn't say. But you didn't need words to know that he was utterly in love with you. He showed it in his gestures more than he could ever do with ever so passionate constellation of words "But don't fret, I am nearly finished."

You remained still and listened to the brush that caressed the canvas all the while soaking up the sunlight bracing through the curtains. The cities white noise was softer than usual, only the muffled sound of a lone trumpeter a few blocks away braced through the stillness. Even the city seemed to take it slow on such a late morning.

Closing your eyes you dozed in an out of sleep for a while until the dipping of the mattress under Klaus weight stirred you awake.

"Good morning." He said and kissed from your exposed shoulder to the other, the stubble of his beard tickling your skin.

"Morning." You replied and turned to face him. The sun landed on him now, bathing him in golden serenity like it did you before.

He looked beautiful bracing against the light. You reached for his stubbled jaw and pulled him closer and tenderly pressed your lips to his. Soon, there was nothing but tender kiss after kiss - slow and soft, comforting in ways words would never be.

"It would be a shame to waste such a marvellous day." Klaus said "Or I could be persuaded to stay and pass the time with...leisure activities. "

"Leisure activities...that sounds tempting." You rolled him on his back and kissed along his jaw and neck, teasing him before you stopped any affection altogether " But you're quite right. We shouldn't waste a day like this."

Always the tease.

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Following your promise, you didn't waste the wonderful day. In fact, it was more peaceful than either of you expected it to be. There was no threat coming, no waging war to be done - nothing but a day in peace. It was marvellous.

Klaus held your hand throughout your stroll through along the Mississippi River. All the way from the French Quarter to the West Riverside he told tales of the past with a nostalgic and passionate glisten in his eyes that made you smile from ear to ear.

For mortals unaware of his supernatural status, it might have seemed like an ordinary couple enjoying a nice day stroll. But this simple gesture was a declaration of war for everyone who would dare to harm you. And the knew. From the vampires on the other side of the river to the Treme witches right to the werewolves out in the Bayou, one look and they knew that he would tear heaven and hell apart for you. That and so much more.

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The day went on with Klaus affection not wavering for a second. Not as you enjoyed a boat ride on the river, nor when you stopped to enjoy beignets and certainly not as you slow-danced to soft Jazz amidst a crowd on Bourbon Street.

You didn't care nobody else was dancing. And neither did Klaus. They could stare all day long for all he cared.

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The day came to a close much too quickly. The sun had already sunk beneath the horizon dying the heaven in orange and red hues, then dark blue, as if painted by the most extraordinaire artist.

You stumbled backwards into Klaus' room, all the while kissing his luscious lips and tugging at his shirt. The dulling yet uplifting power of the previously consumed bourbon unsteadies your footing quite a bit and you accidentally stumbled against the easel. The painting from this morning fell off sideways, quivered

Klaus smiles into the kiss but refuses to let such a minor thing other him and he pushed the painting aside with his foot and continued to walk you to the bed in the room.

As much as Klaus enjoyed this painting and all the other before that, having you by his side - really by his side, in the flesh- could never be captured on a canvas. The euphoria was too great to translate into color.

But he'll try, oh he'll try until all the colors run out and all the canvas are painted over.

After all, Klaus loved painting - almost as much as he loved you....