#it felt like a different kind of acceptance. one step at a time the truth sinking into my psyche | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jksarchives · 2 months ago

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THE SIX STAGES OF A BREAK-UP│ 05

➪ PAIRING; jungkook x reader

➪ GENRE; lovers to strangers, angst

➩ CHAPTER WARNINGS; mention of blood

➪ WC; 12.3k

✎ series masterlist

4. ACCEPTANCE

▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔▔

It had been exactly three months since Jungkook came back to your shared apartment to collect the last of his belongings.

Three months since he had permanently walked out of your life, leaving behind the echoes of a ten-year relationship. The ten years together was reduced to a cardboard box.

Even after your outburst, he had been calm, almost detached, as if the decade you shared was merely a chapter he was closing without a second thought or consideration.

You sat at a small, round table outside your office’s café to have your lunch break. You absently stirred your coffee, your mind far from the noise of the busy city around you.

With your other hand, you scrolled through the news on your phone. And your heart sank as you saw the bold headlines finally announcing his wedding.

There was a photo of the happy couple, beaming at each other with an affection that made your stomach churn.

▍“Jeon Jungkook of Jeon Enterprise Marries Childhood Sweetheart — A Perfect Match.”

The article was full of praise for the match, highlighting how their union was a merging of two influential families, and how it had been celebrated as the wedding of the year.

The girl he was marrying wasn’t a stranger to anyone, nor was she someone Jungkook had just met. Aera was her name. She was the daughter of his father’s best friend, a model. She was a woman who was not only successful in her own right but also well-known throughout the country.

Of course you had only just learned that fact as you read through the article.

And, childhood sweetheart?

You couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh, because he had never mentioned this girl in all your years together.

Was he already thinking about her while you were still together? Had he ever really loved you, or were you just a placeholder until the real thing came along?

You felt a pang in your chest, the kind that took your breath away. It wasn’t the sharp, overwhelming pain of the initial breakup; it was more of a dull, persistent throb, like an old injury flaring up.

A part of you had always hoped that Jungkook would come back, that he would realise the mistake he had made in leaving you. But seeing him in that picture, with his arm wrapped around his new wife, that hope finally crumbled into dust.

You felt your eyes sting. For a moment you thought about leaving the café and going back to the office, forgetting about the remaining thirty minutes of your unpaid break.

But you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry anymore, that you would be strong.

You were tired — tired of crying, tired of feeling stuck in a place where the past held so much power over your present. You had shed enough tears, spent enough nights questioning yourself and replaying the moments where maybe, just maybe, things could have gone differently.

You wanted to move on. You needed to.

But the truth was, you didn’t know how to move on.

Ten years was a long time to spend with someone, to build a life with them, only to have it all torn away in an instant. And now, to see Jungkook so happy, so quickly after your breakup, it made you feel like everything you had shared meant nothing. Like you had meant nothing at all.

Ten years was a long time — long enough for you to lose yourself in the identity you had both built together.

Who were you without him? What did you want from life now that the future you both planned was no longer an option?

These questions haunted you, leaving you feeling lost and unsure of how to take the first steps toward healing.

You knew that moving on wasn’t something that could be forced. It wasn’t a matter of waking up one day and deciding that you were over him. It was a process, one that would likely be messy and nonlinear.

But as you sat with the news of his marriage, you also realised that you couldn’t stay in this limbo forever. It wasn’t fair to yourself — to the person you had the potential to become.

There would be no easy answers, no quick fixes.

But maybe that was okay. Maybe moving on wasn’t about forgetting him or erasing the past. Maybe it was about finding a way to carry those memories with you while still making space for new ones.

You had spent so much time looking back, trying to understand what went wrong, that you had forgotten to look forward, to consider what might come next.

But you didn’t have all the answers. You weren’t even sure where to start.

Suddenly, the chair opposite you at your table scraped loudly against the tiled floor, jolting you from your thoughts. You didn’t even notice that someone had approached your table. Your focus shifted from the phone in your hand to the man now sitting in front of you.

A soft thud on the table — a plastic wrapped burrito — accompanied his arrival, and you finally looked up, blinking as your mind tried to catch up with reality.

“Thought I’d find you here” the manly voice said.

“Hey there, lost in thought, or are you just admiring my good looks?” Mingyu teased, his voice light and playful.

Despite the ache in your chest, you couldn’t help but crack a small smile.

Mingyu was your best friend who you worked alongside at the office. He was probably the only guy friend you had and trusted the most. Though you only knew him since the beginning of college, you two became inseparable, just like with Minhee.

He always had a way of doing things — breaking through your walls with his easy-going humor. He always knew how to lift your spirits, even on the darkest days.

“Not everything revolves around you, you know” you shot back, trying to match his tone, but your voice wavered slightly.

“Well, it sure does look like it. Have you seen all the ladies trying to get my number at the office?” he playfully smirked to himself as he raised his brow.

You forced a small smile, the corners of your mouth lifting slightly, though your heart wasn’t in it. Mingyu’s timing, as usual, was both impeccable and unfortunate.

You appreciated his attempt to cheer you up, but you weren’t sure if you were ready to be pulled out of the emotional cocoon you had wrapped yourself in just yet.

Still, you didn’t want to seem ungrateful.

Mingyu’s expression softened when he noticed your gloomy mood. He leaned forward as his eyes searched for yours.

“Hey, what’s up?” He asked.

“Just...life stuff,” you replied vaguely, trying to brush it off.

But the effort to sound nonchalant was betrayed by the lingering sadness in your voice. You knew Mingyu would pick up on it — he was more perceptive than he let on.

Mingyu didn’t say anything. He just stared at you, as if his eyes spoke to you, to tell him what was really going on.

You knew better. Likewise Minhee, Mingyu had been there through it all — the breakup, the tears, the late-night phone calls when you couldn’t sleep. He would see right through any mask you tried to put up.

You sighed heavily, knowing there was no use in beating around the bush.

There was a moment of hesitation as your fingers hovered over the screen, as if unsure whether you should share what was weighing on your heart. But this was him. Your best friend. The one person who knew you inside and out, who had seen you at your best and worst, and never judged you for either.

With a quiet breath, you unlocked the phone and slid it across the table towards him. Your eyes averted from the screen, as if it burned you to look at it.

Mingyu picked up the phone, his brows knitting together as he glanced at the screen. The bright display showed the news article you’ve been reading, with a headline that slowly began to make sense. His eyes scanned the words, piecing together the story, and when he finally understood, his frown deepened.

The news was simple enough: a wedding announcement. Your ex-boyfriend, the man you once imagined spending the rest of your life with, was getting married.

He knew this day would come eventually. After all, the engagement had been public knowledge for months. But knowing it and seeing it were two different things. He processed the information, the realisation settling in.

When he looked up at you again, his expression had softened. He didn’t need to ask how you felt, it was written all over your face. You were trying so hard to hold it together, to be strong, but he could see the cracks in your facade, the vulnerability that you rarely showed to anyone.

“Hey,” he softly called out as he placed your phone down.

“You don’t have to pretend with me, okay? I know you’re hurting. You don’t have to keep it all inside” he said.

You let out a shaky breath as you looked up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “It’s not fair, you know? He gets to be happy, and I’m just…I’m still trying to figure out how to be okay” your voice almost came out as a whisper.

Mingyu wanted to say something, anything that would take away your pain. But all he could think about was how much he wanted to punch Jungkook, to make him feel even a fraction of the hurt he had caused you.

The images of him smiling happily in wedding photos, celebrating his new life, filled him with a rage he hadn't felt before. How could he move on so easily? How could he be so happy after everything he had put you through?

“You know what?” he said, his voice hardening.

“He doesn’t deserve to be happy. Not after what he did to you. And the fact that he can just move on like that, like you didn’t matter, like you were just a chapter he could close — that’s on him, not you. It says everything about who he is, and nothing about who you are” his jaw clenched as he spoke.

You smiled weakly, appreciating his words, but still feeling the sting of the news. “I know. I just wish it didn’t hurt so much” you sighed.

There was some silence for a minute or two. While Mingyu kept his gaze on you, you kept your head low to avoid looking at him.

You then shrugged, “but, I guess it’s okay. I mean, it’s been a while…I should be over it by now, right?” you said, unsure of your own words.

But he could see through you. He knew you too well to believe that. The tightness in your voice, the way you couldn't quite meet his eyes, all of it told him that you were far from okay. And that made his blood boil.

He gripped his coffee cup so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“No Y/n, it’s not okay” he unintentionally snapped, and you looked up at him, surprised by the intensity in his voice. Upon realising his tone, Mingyu sighed.

It wasn't okay. Not to him.

The thought of that man walking away unscathed, while you had to pick up the pieces of your life, was unbearable. He wanted to protect you, to shield you from the pain, but he also wanted to make Jungkook pay for what he had done.

It was irrational, he knew that, but the urge to punch the guy in the face, to wipe that smug smile off his face, was almost overwhelming.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down, but the anger still simmered just beneath the surface. “I just...I hate seeing you hurt because of him,” he said, his voice softer now, but still edged with anger.

“It’s not okay for him to give up a ten year relationship and move on so quickly like it was nothing. It’s just so fucked up Y/n, you didn’t deserve any of that” he said.

“Then what do I do Gyu?” you question with a broken voice. It was a question he didn’t really have an answer for, but all he knew was that he couldn’t see you break any more than you already were.

“What I’m saying is, I just want you to remember that none of this is your fault” he began as he reached out to hold your hands.

“You gave him everything — your love, your time, your patience. You did everything you could to make that relationship work. But it wasn’t you who failed. It was him. He was the one who took your love for granted, who thought that after everything you two shared, he could just walk away and start over with someone else. That’s on him, not you” he ranted.

“I hate how you’re questioning yourself over him. You’ve always been more than enough. If anything, he was the one who wasn’t enough for you. He treated your relationship like it was something cheap, something he could trade in for something new. That was his choice, his failure, not yours” he continued.

You looked down at your hands, twisting your fingers together as if trying to wring the pain out of them. You tried to control your tears as you nibbled on your lips hard.

Mingyu couldn’t stand to see you like this, burdened by a guilt that didn’t belong to you. He reached out, gently lifting your chin so you had to meet his gaze.

“You’ve blamed yourself enough, and it has to stop. You gave him your best, and he chose to walk away. That doesn’t mean you weren’t good enough” he assured you.

You knew you had reached a point where you had to accept the truth.

You had to accept that the man you once loved, the man you still loved, had moved on. He had found happiness with someone else, and there was nothing you could do to change that. It was a hard pill to swallow, but deep down, you knew it was the only way forward rather than keep blaming yourself when none of it was your fault.

And you were glad that Minhee and Mingyu were there to remind you about it, while still giving you the space and reassurance you needed.

But acceptance didn’t come easily.

It wasn’t something you could force, and it wasn’t something that happened overnight. It was a slow, painful process of coming to terms with the fact that your life had taken a turn you never expected. The future you imagined was no longer possible, and you had to find a way to make peace with that.

Moving forward seemed impossible, like asking you to walk with broken legs. But you knew that as long as you held on to the past, you would never be able to heal.

Accepting your fate was the first step toward reclaiming your life, even if that life felt empty without him. It meant facing the pain head-on, allowing yourself to grieve not just the loss of him, but the loss of who you had been with him.

“You’ll get through this Y/n, I promise” Mingyu said, and you could only give him a weak smile.

“Minhee and I will always be here for you. And if we need to kick that bastard’s ass, we will gladly do so” his voice firmed, to which you couldn’t help but slightly giggle.

“You’re just looking for an opportunity to beat him up” you told him.

“He hurt my best friend, of course I’d want to beat the shit out of him” he scoffed, picking up his coffee mug and then taking a sip.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your phone before stuffing it in your bag. “Hurry up, our break finishes in two minutes” you told him, changing the topic. You stood up to leave but waved his hand to stop you as he chugged his coffee.

Finally placing the cup down, he stood up. “Damn, I didn’t even get to eat my burrito” he huffed.

“Too bad, you’ll have to starve for the rest of the day. Now hurry” you said nonchalantly before you began to walk off.

“Rude” Mingyu mumbled with a frown. You knew he was probably going to secretly stuff his face at his desk next to you while using you as a shield from your boss.

┄┄┄┄┄

It was almost 3pm.

You sat at your desk with your back straight, and your eyes glued to the computer. Your fingers moved swiftly over the keys as you navigated through the data you were inputting. The reports had to be submitted by the end of the day, and you were determined to finish everything on time.

Though a lot had happened in your life for the past few months, you managed to step up with your focus. Your focus was razor-sharp, undeterred by the distractions around you — at least for the most part.

Sitting at the adjacent desk, Mingyu was in a state of panic. Though he tried to keep it subtle, his eyes darted nervously around the office as he took rapid, secretive bites from his burrito he was unable to eat earlier.

The aroma of warm grilled meat, beans, and spices filled the corner of the office, making you smirk without even looking up from your screen. Just as you predicted.

Your boss, Mr. Han, was in his glass-walled cabin, not more than twenty feet away. The positioning of the cabin gave him a direct line of sight to most of his employees, and that included the corner where you both sat.

You could hear the rustle of the burrito wrapper, and you knew Mingyu was trying to muffle the sound, which only made it more noticeable in the quiet office.

You finally glanced sideways at him. He was hunched over, pretending to review documents on his desk while quickly cramming the burrito into his mouth. His cheeks were puffed out, and the desperate look in his eyes betrayed the calm he was attempting to project. It was like watching a squirrel trying to hide its food before someone else discovered it.

You sighed, trying to ignore him as you went back to her report.

But the sound of his loud chewing broke through your focus again. You pressed your lips into a thin line.

Seriously?

You darted a glance his way. He was trying to eat quietly, but the rustle of the burrito wrapper and the squelch of sauce made his attempts impossible.

“Can you stop being so loud?” you hissed under your breath as you looked towards him.

Mingyu froze for a second, mid-bite, his cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk. He glanced at you, then at the boss’s office, as if trying to gauge whether he’d been caught. When he realised he was still in the clear, he lowered the burrito slightly.

“What? I’m starving here. I didn’t get to eat...you know, trying to comfort you,” he said with a grumpy frown.

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. You appreciated Mingyu more than you let on, but this wasn’t the time to show it.

You were swamped, and the last thing you needed was to be pulled out of your focus by his lunchtime theatrics.

“Yeah, yeah, thanks for that” you muttered, your eyes going back to focusing on the screen.

“Just finish eating before Mr. Han sees you and writes you up for violating the ‘no food at the desk’ rule” you told him.

Mingyu smirked, suddenly unbothered by the threat. “He’s not going to notice,” he whispered, glancing cautiously toward the boss’s office. “He’s on a call anyway” he added.

“Right, that’s why you’re being a sneaky little rat hiding behind me” you scoffed.

You knew he was probably right. Mr. Han was often too preoccupied with phone calls and meetings to notice the small infractions happening under his nose. Still, you weren’t going to take any chances, especially since you were already on his radar after that rough meeting earlier in the morning.

“It’s just an extra precaution” he argued back.

“Whatever, just be quiet” you said before continuing with your work.

┄┄��┄┄

It wasn’t until fifteen minutes later that you suddenly felt a wave of dizziness wash over you.

It was subtle at first, a mere flutter that made you blink a few times. But then it grew stronger, a sensation that left you light-headed, as though the ground beneath you was shifting.

Your vision blurred, the sharp black lines of the spreadsheet softening and bending at the edges. You tried to refocus, blinking hard and squinting, but the haze refused to clear.

You shook your head to attempt to clear the fog settling over your mind. A small frown creased your brow as you leaned back in your chair, taking a deep breath.

Maybe it was the stress, or perhaps you hadn’t slept well enough the night before. It was hard to tell, but you had no time for this — there was still so much work to be done.

You rubbed your temples and tried to force yourself to concentrate, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

Mingyu had noticed your sudden stillness, and the slight fidgeting that followed. He glanced over, and concern immediately knitted his features when he saw you shaking your head and pressing your fingers against your temples.

“Y/n,” he asked softly, his voice laced with worry, “are you okay?”.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to alarm him. You hated being the center of attention when you weren’t feeling well — especially in the office. It was just a moment of weakness, you told yourself. Something fleeting.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice steady but soft. You offered him a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Just a little dizzy, probably need more coffee or something”.

But even as you spoke, you could feel the strange fog lingering. Your mouth felt dry, your throat slightly parched.

You reached for the water bottle sitting on your desk, your fingers wrapping tightly around it as if anchoring yourself to something solid. With a small twist, you opened the cap and took a slow sip, letting the cool liquid soothe your throat.

The dizziness didn’t subside immediately, but the act of drinking water helped you refocus. You could feel Mingyu’s gaze lingering on you, his brows still furrowed. He didn’t seem convinced, but you appreciated that he didn’t press the issue further.

“You sure?” he asked, leaning slightly towards you. “You’ve been working nonstop for hours. Maybe you need a break”.

You shook your head as you capped the bottle and set it back down on the desk.

“It’s alright” you replied, though you weren't quite sure yourself.

Your head felt slightly clearer now, but a nagging sense of unease remained. “I’ll be fine. Just need to get through this report” you told him.

Mingyu gave you a knowing look. “Don’t push yourself too hard, alright?” he said.

You nodded again, “I won’t” you said, offering him a more genuine smile this time.

He gave you one last glance before returning to his work, but you could still feel his concern hovering nearby.

Taking another deep breath, you straightened in your chair and refocused on the screen in front of you. The letters and numbers on the spreadsheet seemed to swim a little less now, but you promised yourself you’d take a real break soon.

Just one more task to finish. Just a little more.

┄┄┄┄┄

The quietness in the office room was interrupted when the main door at the far end of the room creaked open.

You glanced up briefly, your curiosity piqued, but quickly returned your attention to your work, assuming it was a delivery or perhaps a colleague returning from a break.

But there was a sudden shift in atmosphere when a couple walked in. It was more a subtle shift — a collective awareness that whoever had just entered commanded respect, or perhaps a higher level of attention.

Everyone in the room had their attention on them apart from you, who was too immersed in your work.

Mr. Han was the first to react. His head snapped up from his screen, eyes lighting up with a mixture of surprise and enthusiasm.

He quickly stood up, adjusting his suit jacket before striding out of his office with the kind of urgency reserved for someone important. As he approached the couple, his voice took on a tone that was almost worshipful.

��Mr. and Mrs. Jeon! Welcome, it’s a pleasure to see you both” her boss greeted them with a wide, almost courteous smile.

Your fingers froze over the keyboard mid-sentence.

The name hit you like a wave of ice water.

Jeon.

You were frozen completely, your heart skipping a beat as the reality of the situation sank in. Slowly, almost as if you were afraid of what you would find, you turned your head toward the door, your body stiff, unwilling to fully confront the scene.

There, standing tall and composed in the doorway, was Jungkook.

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. He hadn’t changed much since the last time you saw him — his dark hair still fell slightly over his forehead, and his presence still commanded the room in that subtle, effortless way it always had.

But something about him felt different now. More polished, more distant, like he had moved on in a way you never quite had.

He was looking as smart and composed as ever in a tailored suit, the very picture of success and confidence. And his arm was draped loosely around the waist of a woman with sleek, styled hair and a diamond ring that glittered in the office lighting.

The woman he had just married. Aera.

The two of them looked every bit the perfect couple, a vision of what your life might have been had things gone differently.

But why is he here?

You didn’t expect this. Why would you?

He never mentioned anything about business ties to your company, not during your time together, not even in passing.

Yet, here he was, standing in your office, the place you thought was your own, a separate space from the past you both shared. And worse, he was here as someone important — someone who clearly had a powerful connection to your boss.

“Why is that bastard here?” you heard Mingyu curse under his breath as he shot daggers at the couple. He too had the same question, and was seething with anger as his fists clenched tightly

For a moment, you prayed he wouldn’t notice you. That the busy office, the crowd of people, and the conversations would swallow you whole and spare you from this encounter.

But fate, as always, had a cruel sense of humor.

While Jungkook conversed with your boss, his eyes swept across the room, indifferent, until they finally landed on you.

His smile faltered.

It was subtle, barely noticeable, but you saw it — the moment recognition flickered in his eyes, and the easy, confident smile he wore dipped for just a fraction of a second.

Your heart pounded in your chest as you locked eyes, a torrent of emotions flashing between you in the briefest of moments. His expression softened into something you couldn’t quite read — regret, surprise, or perhaps something else entirely — but it was enough to send your stomach into knots.

And then, as quickly as it happened, the moment passed. Aera turned to him with a smile, completely oblivious to the silent exchange, and he broke the gaze, looking down at her with that same charming smile that once used to belong to you.

Maybe it really was the time to accept that you no longer existed in his life.

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly as they hovered over the keyboard once again. You wanted to disappear, to melt into the background and become invisible.

But the truth was, you were stuck there, at your desk, with nowhere to hide.

As the couple moved further into the room, their attention now on your boss, you allowed yourself one last glance in their direction. There was a strange numbness that settled in your chest as you saw the way he held her, just like he used to hold you.

You turned back to your screen, your vision slightly blurred as you stared at the half-finished report. The words no longer made sense, your concentration completely shattered.

For the first time in a while, you felt like the world had shifted beneath your feet, and all you could do was hold on until the moment passed.

You didn’t want to look at him. And you didn’t want him to look at you. You just seeked an excuse to rid yourselves from each others’ lives now that neither of you had anything to do with each other.

Perhaps it’ll hurt less.

You tried to concentrate back on your work, to ignore his presence, but you felt the wave of nausea and dizziness wash over you again. As you stared at the screen in front of you, the numbers and letters blurred, and you had to blink a few times to steady your vision.

You took a few sips of water, but it didn’t help. If anything, you started feeling worse.

You took a deep breath, trying to shake off the strange haze in your mind. But just as you thought you had gained some control, the dizziness striked again, stronger this time.

Your hands instinctively reached for the edge of your desk, fingers gripping the cool surface as if it were the only thing keeping you harboured to the earth. Your heart began to race, and a cold sweat formed on your forehead.

You felt a gentle nudge against your arm. Startled, you turned your head slowly towards him with unsteady movement. You saw Mingyu looking at you with worry etched on his face.

“Y/n, are you okay? You look really pale” he asked, his voice low and soft.

You forced a small smile, swallowing the unease that was tightening in your chest. “I'm fine,” you lied, your voice sounding weaker than you intended.

But Mingyu wasn’t convinced this time. His eyes scanned her face, noticing the way your shoulders were tense, the slight tremble in your hands as you rested them in your lap. He knew you too well to let it go.

“You don’t look fine to me Y/n. I think you should go home and rest, I’ll let Mr. Han know” he said, but you shook your head.

“G-Gyu, I’m fine, really. Maybe it’s all this screen time. I’ll be fine after a break” you tried to convince him more. You didn’t want to worry him — or worse, be the center of attention in the office especially when he was here.

You were always the one who handled things on your own, the one who didn’t need help. But right now, your body was betraying you, and the more you tried to shake off the dizziness, the more persistent it became.

Slowly, you stood up from your chair, but the moment you did, the dizziness intensified. It was as if the ground beneath you had moved, and you stumbled slightly, your feet feeling unstable.

You reached out instinctively as your hand brushed against the edge of the desk for support. Your heart was racing in your chest as you tried to balance yourself, but your legs felt weaker than they should.

Mingyu was by your side in an instant, his hand hovering near your back, ready to catch you if you fell. “Whoa, careful there,” he said worriedly, “you sure you’re okay?” he asked.

You nodded, though your confidence in your own balance was shaky at best. “Yeah, just a little off-balance. I’m fine, really. I’m going to go to the restroom” you told him. Mingyu nibbled on his lip, nervous to let you go alone in this condition. But he nodded anyway.

As you took your first step toward the restroom, you weren’t so sure whether you’d even make it to the restroom before you faint.

Each step felt heavier than the last, as though your body was moving through water, and your mind was struggling to keep up with the physical effort.

The dizziness swirled around you, making your surroundings feel longer to walk through than it was. The fluorescent lights overhead were too bright, it was making everything even worse.

You were barely halfway across the office when you felt it — a warm, wet sensation on your upper lip.

You paused mid-step, frowning in confusion. Slowly, your hand reached up to touch your nose. And when you pulled your fingers away, they were smeared with bright red blood.

A nosebleed.

Your dizziness deepened, and a sense of vertigo overtaking you. You blinked a few times to try to ease yourself, but the room was spinning now, the walls closing in.

You didn’t have time to process the blood, the dizziness, or the sudden overwhelming feeling of vulnerability. Your body felt lighter, like you were losing control of your limbs.

Suddenly, your foot misstepped, and you staggered, causing her body to tilt forward. Before you could register what was happening, you collided with something solid — a hard chest.

You gasped, and your vision was swirling as you tried to regain your footing, but your legs gave out beneath you. You were falling.

But then, just as quickly, you felt a strong pair of arms catch you. They wrapped around you firmly and steadily, preventing you from hitting the floor.

For a moment, you leaned into the embrace, the warmth and strength unfamiliar yet comforting in your current state of weakness. Your breaths were shallow, and your vision blurred further as you tilted your head back, trying to see who had caught you.

Through the haze, your blurry vision settled on a familiar face, the lines of his jaw and the shape of his unmistakable big doe eyes.

Your breath hitched in your throat. Your heart pounded in your chest for a different reason now.

It was him.

The man who had broken your heart not so long ago, the one you had spent months crying over. And here he was, holding you in his arms as if the past hadn't shattered you.

“I’ve got you,” Jungkook whispered softly, his voice cutting through the fog in her mind.

His expression shifted from surprise to alarm as he noticed the blood trickling down from your nose. “What the hell—?” his arms tightened around you to keep you upright.

“Y/n! Fuck your nose is bleeding!” his voice was sharp with worry.

The world around you continued to spin, your body weak from the dizziness. Your mind raced with a flood of emotions — confusion, anger, and something you didn’t want to acknowledge, relief.

But the last thing you wanted was his help.

Desperately, you tried to push him away, to pull yourself from his grip. The humiliation of being caught in such a vulnerable state — by him of all people — was almost worse than the dizziness.

You needed to get away, to be anywhere but in his arms.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, trying to sound stern and cold. But your voice came out weak and shaky, betraying you.

You attempted to take a step, but your legs wobbled as they refused to cooperate. Your body was betraying you now, too. No matter how much your mind screamed at you to move, your limbs wouldn’t obey.

The dizziness surged again, threatening to pull you under. You swayed, and his grip on you tightened as he pulled you closer, his breath warm against her ear.

“You’re not fine,” he murmured, his tone firmer now. His hand moved to the back of your head, gently supporting you.

But his touch burned.

The comfort of his arms turned to ice. Anger surged through you, fueled by the hurt you had buried deep inside, hurt you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel fully until this very moment.

You tried to push him away with your palms weakly pressing against his chest, but your body betrayed her once again, too weak to follow through.

“Don’t touch me,” you croaked, your voice raspier than you intended, more vulnerable than you wanted it to be. You tried again, harder this time, but your knees trembled, and you swayed unsteadily.

“Y/n, you're not okay. Let me—” he started, worriedly trying to reach for you again.

“I said don’t!” your voice cracked, but your anger flared stronger.

You couldn’t stand the concern in his eyes, the worry that once would have comforted you but now only reminded you of the pain he had caused.

You didn’t want his help, not now, not ever again.

You’re finally coming to accept that he broke your heart. You’re finally coming to accept that he had fallen in love with another woman who apparently made him happier than you.

You’re finally coming to accept the fact that he’s not yours anymore. Maybe he never was.

But as much as you wanted to move away from him, your body refused to cooperate. The dizziness was overwhelming now, the room spinning so violently you could barely keep your eyes open.

The blood continued to drip from your nose, a warm trail sliding over your upper lip. Your vision dimmed again, the edges darkening even more than before.

Jungkook could only stare at you with hurt flashing in his eyes and his heart dropping to his stomach.

His face remained blurred to you but his voice sounded closer, “please let me help you, you’re bleeding Y/n” he sounded desperate and panicky.

You clenched your teeth, feeling frustration and exhaustion battling within you. You wanted to yell at him, tell him to leave you alone, but the words wouldn’t come.

No matter how much you resisted, the dizziness was overwhelming your senses, pulling you further down into darkness. You tried to fight it, but your vision grew blurrier, your limbs heavier, until you couldn’t fight anymore.

Eventually, your body slumped against Jungkook’s chest as consciousness slipped away from your grasp.

“Y/n!” his voice was loud and panicked which caught the attention of everyone in the room. His arms tightened around you, catching you before you could hit the floor.

“Y/n, hey, stay with me!” he shook you gently, but your head lolled against his chest, unresponsive.

From the corner of the room, a chair scraped harshly against the floor, and Mingyu appeared in an instant, rushing towards you both. His face twisted with concern yet anger as he took in the sight of you in Jungkook’s arms, unconscious and nose bleeding.

“Y/n! Y/N!” his voice cut through the haze of unconsciousness, filled with panic.

Without hesitation, he shoved Jungkook away, his expression fierce as he crouched beside you. “Get the hell away from her!” he barked, feeling his protective instincts kicking in.

Jungkook stumbled back , and his arms fell uselessly at his sides as he stared, wide-eyed, at your pale, bleeding form. Mingyu didn't spare him a second glance.

“Y/n? Y/n, come on, wake up,” Mingyu muttered urgently, gently pulling you into his arms. His hands trembled as he brushed your hair away from your face, wiping at the blood that was still trickling from your nose. Panic filled in his chest, and his heart was racing uncontrollably. Your skin was cold, and you weren’t responding.

“Mingyu” Jungkook began, stepping forward, his voice shaking. But Mingyu shot him a glare that could have stopped anyone in their tracks.

"I said back. off.” he gritted his teeth. He didn’t care that he was superior to your boss, he’ll always be the bastard who shattered his best friend’s heart and dreams.

Everyone in the office stopped what they were doing as they watched the scene unfold with shock and disbelief. The murmur of whispers filled the room, but Mingyu couldn’t focus on any of it. His only concern was his best friend, who lay unmoving in his arms.

“Somebody call an ambulance!” he yelled into the open office space, his voice breaking with fear.

In the chaos that followed, Jungkook took a hesitant step forward, reaching out as if to help, but Mingyu’s glare stopped him cold. “Don’t you dare,” he hissed. “You’ve done enough”

His words stung, but Jungkook remained frozen, torn between the guilt weighing on his heart and the reality of what was happening. All he could do was watch as the woman he once loved lay unconscious, bleeding and vulnerable.

The office, which had fallen eerily silent, suddenly erupted into action. A few co-workers rushed to call for help while others watched the scene unfold, frozen in shock.

As the seconds ticked by, Mingyu held you tight, refusing to let go. He glanced down at your pale face, brushing his thumb gently over your cheek.

“You're going to be okay Y/n. I swear it,” he whispered, his voice choked with emotion.

Seconds later, Mr. Han appeared from his office along with Aera. Both their faces were masked with confusion as they heard the commotion.

“What’s going on here?” Mr. Han asked as he arrived at the scene. He glanced at your unconscious with wide eyes before they glanced at the two men, trying to piece together what had happened.

But Mingyu didn’t answer. All he needed to hear was that the ambulance was on its way. And to his mild relief, someone stepped in. “The ambulance is coming” the man told him

Aera’s eyes flickered between Mingyu, you, and Jungkook, who was still standing frozen, his face pale. He had drops of your blood on his light blue shirt.

A knot of unease tightened in her stomach as she glanced at him, noting the way he was staring at you. She had always sensed there were unresolved feelings between the two of you, and now, in this moment of crisis, those feelings seemed to hang in the air like a thick cloud.

“Jungkook?” her voice was low, but it broke the silence that had engulfed him. He blinked, his expression shifting as though he had just realised where he was. He looked at her, but there was a flicker of guilt in his eyes. It was subtle, but it was there.

“H-Huh?” he unknowingly stuttered.

“You okay?” she asked as she walked over to him, her hand reaching out to hold him. Jungkook gave her a nod to reassure her, but she saw the way he anxiously swallowed a thick lump.

After what felt like hours, the sound of the sirens wailed in the distance, growing louder as the ambulance approached.

Two paramedics rushed in, kneeling beside you as they swiftly began their assessment. One of them gently lifted your wrist, feeling for a pulse, while the other checked your vitals. The room was eerily silent, everyone watching with bated breath.

“Her pulse is faint,” one of the paramedics said, glancing at his partner with urgency. “We need to move fast”.

Mingyu’s grip on your hand tightened, his eyes wide with fear. “Is she going to be okay?” his voice was barely above a whisper, but the question hung heavy in the air.

The paramedic didn’t answer right away. Instead, they moved with precision, placing an oxygen mask over your face. “We’ll do everything we can,” he finally said, his tone calm but serious.

Jungkook’s heart sank. He had been hoping for better news, but the severity of the situation was now clear. The paramedics moved quickly, placing you on a stretcher and preparing to take you to the hospital.

As they strapped you in, Jungkook’s heart finally broke free from the chains that had held him frozen in place. His pulse raced, his palms sweating.

For all the hurt between you, for all the bitterness you harbored towards him after he had shattered your relationship, he still cared about you deeply.

His feet moved before his mind caught up, and suddenly he was following the paramedics, his mind a blur of guilt and fear. His eyes locked on you as the paramedics wheeled you towards the door. He couldn’t let you go like this, not without doing something.

“I’m going with her,” Jungkook said, his voice breaking as removed himself from Aera’s hold and moved to follow the paramedics out the door.

Before he could take another step, Mingyu blocked his path. His eyes, usually kind, were sharp with fury as he shoved Jungkook back. “Stay away from her,” Mingyu snapped, his voice low and dangerous.

Jungkook stumbled, taken aback by the force of Mingyu’s words. He opened his mouth to protest, to explain, but he saw the raw emotion on Mingyu’s face — the fear, the protectiveness, the anger. It stopped him cold.

“This isn’t about you, Jungkook” Mingyu continued, his voice tight with emotion. “She doesn’t need you anymore. You lost that right”.

Jungkook clenched his fists, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to argue, to say that he still cared, that he didn’t want anything bad to happen to you.

“I need to go with her Mingyu” Jungkook said, his voice trembling but determined. “I still care about her” he added.

Mingyu’s face twisted in disbelief and fury. “You care about her?” he repeated, his voice dripping with contempt. “You broke her heart. You don’t get to care about her now” he snapped.

There were audible gasps within the room, followed by hushed whispers, but it was the last thing Jungkook cared about. He stood still, his eyes pleading, “Mingyu, please…” he looked at the man with glossy eyes.

But Mingyu’s rage flared. “No. You’re not going to do this. Not now. She doesn’t need you. I’m here for her” he told him.

No matter how much it hurt for him to admit, Mingyu was right. He had lost his chance with you long ago. And now, all he could do was watch as the paramedics loaded you into the ambulance, Mingyu by your side, while he stood on the curb, helpless.

For a moment, the two men stood there, locked in a silent battle of wills. Mr. Han watched tensely, while Aera stood off to the side, her face a mixture of shock and something unreadable as she glanced at her husband.

The tension in the air was heavy, and the seconds ticked by as the paramedics wheeled you out the door, your life hanging in the balance. Mingyu shot Jungkook a last glare before running off to follow the paramedics.

┄┄┄┄┄

As the ambulance doors shut with a heavy thud, Mingyu rushed to his car, his hands shaking as he fumbled for his keys.

His thoughts were racing in his mind. He knew something was wrong with you, but never thought it would be this serious. What if something happens? He cursed himself for panicking but couldn’t stop the rush of fear choking him.

Once behind the wheel, he followed closely behind the ambulance. His phone vibrated in the passenger seat, but he ignored it. Instead, he grabbed it and quickly dialed the one other person who might understand the terror he felt — Minhee.

Minhee picked up after the second ring. “Hey Gyu, what’s up?” her voice was light, oblivious to what was happening. Mingyu’s breath hitched in his throat, and the words tumbled out in a broken rush.

“It’s Y/n. Minhee she’s — she’s in the ambulance right now. She collapsed at work. There was blood, a nosebleed...I don’t know what happened. I’m following them to the hospital, but I’m scared. I’m really scared” his voice cracked, the enormity of the situation pressing down on him.

There was silence on the other end for a moment, as if Minhee was processing what he’d just said. “Oh my God. I’m on my way. I’ll meet you there. Just — please stay calm, okay?” she said

“I — I’ll try,” he mumbled, his vision blurred by the tears welling up in his eyes. He could barely focus on the road, but somehow, he managed to follow the flashing lights of the ambulance.

After the call ended, he tried to calm his breathing. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he continued following the ambulance. Every mile felt like eternity to him, but all he hoped right now was that the paramedics were doing what they could to stabilise your health.

After a few agonising minutes, the hospital finally came into view. As soon as the ambulance stopped, Mingyu parked his car haphazardly in the nearest space, not caring about the lines, and sprinted to the emergency entrance. He saw them wheeling you inside, your body still motionless, and for a moment, the sight nearly crippled him.

“Wait!” he called after them, his voice strained with desperation, but they were already through the double doors.

He started towards the entrance, but a nurse stepped in front of him, gently stopping him with a hand raised in a placating gesture. “I’m sorry, sir, you’ll have to wait out here. We’ll take care of her,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind.

He felt on the verge of breaking down, his heart screaming at the idea of waiting while his best friend was somewhere inside, possibly fighting for her life. His legs wobbled beneath him, and he stared at the nurse, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Please, take care of her. I can’t lose her” he begged, his voice choked with tears.

The nurse’s expression softened as she looked at him. “She will be okay, I promise,” she told him, before stepping through the doors, leaving him standing alone in the sterile, brightly lit waiting area.

Mingyu slumped onto one of the metal chairs in the hallway, burying his face in his hands. His whole body shook as the adrenaline and fear coursed through him.

Every scenario imaginable ran through his mind, each one worse than the last. He knew you were neglecting yourself ever since Jungkook broke up with you. You were improving but he knew at one point you were going to reach your breaking point.

What if it was something serious? What if they couldn’t help you? He couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.

A sudden wave of dizziness hit him, and he realised he hadn’t taken a proper breath in what felt like hours. With trembling hands, he pulled his phone from his pocket and messaged Minhee of the hospital he was at.

After a while, the doors to the waiting area swung open and Minhee rushed in. Her eyes scanned the room frantically until they landed on Mingyu, and she immediately sprinted toward him.

“Mingyu!” she cried.

Mingyu noticed her presence and stood up almost instantly, “Minhee” he whispered, his lips quivering. Minhee threw her arms around him the moment she reached him.

He hugged her back just as desperately, his hold tightening as if letting go would make the situation worse. “I don’t know Minhee. She hasn't been feeling well ever since we returned from our lunch break” he began.

“She was going to the restroom, and the next moment, she just collapsed,” he explained as best as he could. Tears stung at the corners of his eyes, and he buried his face in her shoulder, clinging to the only comfort he had in this moment.

Minhee sucked in a shaky breath as she pulled away. She sat down on the chair and pulled him down too. As much as she was worried sick too, one of them had to stay strong and hope for the best.

“She’ll be okay, let’s stay strong, hmm?” she patted his back.

Mingyu nodded, but he couldn’t stop the tears that began to fall freely. Minhee wrapped her arm around his shoulders, trying to be strong for him, but she was scared too. And she knew — of course, she knew — why this was hitting him so hard.

It wasn’t a secret between them. It wasn’t just because you were his best friend — Mingyu loved you.

He had for years, though he had never quite mustered the courage to tell you.

Minhee had always known. She could see it in the way he looked at you, the way he always put you first. The thought of something happening to you was unbearable for both of them, but for Mingyu, it was like his entire world was falling apart.

They had talked about it once, a while ago, when he couldn’t keep it bottled up any longer. Minhee had been the one to listen, to support him, even though they both knew you didn’t feel the same way. At least not when you had Jungkook in your life.

You had always been oblivious, treating Mingyu with the same kind of warmth and affection you gave all to your close friends.

And yet, even knowing that, it hadn’t stopped him from falling for you.

But as Mingyu sat silently, something else stirred inside him. Beneath the fear was another emotion, one that burned hotter and sharper: anger.

“That fucking bastard” he gritted his teeth, his fists tightly clenching.

“What?” Minhee frowned in confusion.

Mingyu heaved out a loud annoyed sigh as he leaned back against the chair, throwing his head back. “Jungkook,” he began, “we don’t know what ties he has with our company, but he came today, with his fucking wife” he continued.

His mind began to replay the events of that lunch break earlier in the day, the last time he and you had talked.

It was only when Jungkook had appeared — with Aera — that your mood had completely shifted. You weren’t feeling well to begin with, but his sudden appearance seemed to worsen your symptoms.

“Can you believe he had the nerve to tell me he still cared about her and wanted to follow me to the hospital?” he huffed, “but I didn’t let him”.

Minhee scoffed, folding her arms against her chest, “he’s lucky I wasn’t there, or I would’ve kicked his ass” she said.

“You don’t know how badly I wanted to break his jaw right then and there, Minhee,” he groaned.

He couldn’t get the image out of his mind, the way your face dropped when you saw Jungkook, the way he was holding his wife, and the way you were pretending like it wasn’t affecting you.

Mingyu had hated Jungkook, he hated the way he still held power over you, even though your relationship had ended long ago and you were trying to come to terms with the fact that you and him were no longer a thing.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became. He wanted to scream at the injustice of it all. How could someone like him — someone who had hurt you so deeply — be allowed to waltz back into your life, throwing you off balance again? And with his perfect, picture-perfect life in tow.

It wasn’t fair.

His breathing quickened as the anger built inside him, mixing with the helplessness he was already feeling.

Minhee seemed to notice and placed a hand on his arm. “Hey,” she said softly, “you look like you’re about to explode, calm down” she told him.

He shook his head, trying to steady himself, but the emotions were too strong. “I just...I can’t stand him, you? After everything he’s done” he muttered, his voice thick.

“Me neither, but right now we need to focus on Y/n, okay? She needs us” she said as she gave his arm a gentle squeeze.

Her words were like cold water dousing the flames of his anger, and he nodded, taking a deep breath.

She was right. He needed to be strong right now, for you, not consumed by hatred for someone who didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that you were going to be okay. You had to be.

┄┄┄┄┄

The second you slowly began to regain your consciousness, the sterile smell of the ward welcomed you.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear your vision and make sense of your surroundings. The room was white — too white — and the lights overhead were painfully bright, making you squint.

When your vision slightly stabilised, your eyes scanned around the room. The walls were decorated with a few abstract paintings, likely meant to make the sterile environment feel a bit less clinical.

Then you noticed the tubes connected to you by an IV drip, and a heart monitor was attached to your chest. The soft beeping of the monitors were persistent and it was starting to get annoying.

You tried to sit up, but the weight of your body resisted your efforts, forcing you back down against the pillows.

It was as if your limbs had forgotten how to work, and the smallest movement sent waves of weakness coursing through your body.

Your hands trembled slightly as you reached up to touch your forehead, and you could feel the light sheen of sweat there. Your head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds.

You felt disoriented, as if you were floating somewhere between consciousness and an inescapable void. Everything was a haze.

You blinked slowly, trying to piece together how you had ended up here. Your heart pounded in your chest as fragments of memories started to drift back, like broken pieces of glass coming together to form a jagged reflection.

The last thing I remember...you thought.

Then it hit you like a sudden jolt.

You remember feeling dizzy and lightheaded, a sharp, searing pain blooming in your head. You remembered making your way to the restroom when suddenly your nose started to bleed.

And then, Jungkook’s face swam in your memories, remembering how you bumped into him. You remember losing your balance, but he caught you just before you fell backwards and almost smashed your head against the nearby desk.

You remember his worried face, and him trying to help you, but you recoiled at his touch and pushed him away. All you knew at that moment was that you didn't want him near you, not anymore.

But then what?

Your head throbbed as you tried to recall. The nosebleed, the dizziness, the world spinning uncontrollably. After that, there was nothing. Just darkness.

Now, here you were, lying in a hospital bed, alive but barely functioning. Your body felt foreign, heavy like lead, and your mind was still clouded with confusion.

You tried to move your fingers, to test if you still had control over your limbs. Slowly, shakily, your fingers twitched, and you exhaled in relief.

Just then, the door creaked open, and a nurse entered the room. She smiled gently as she approached the bed, clipboard in hand.

“You're awake,” the nurse said with a soothing voice.

“How are you feeling?” she then asked.

You swallowed, feeling your throat dry and scratchy. “Weak,” you managed to croak out.

“As expected, your blood pressure was very high” she sighed, “have you been eating and drinking well?” she then questioned.

The question lingered in the air, and you didn’t respond. Your lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

What were you supposed to say? That you hadn’t cared enough to take care of yourself? That food felt like an unnecessary burden? That since the breakup, you had barely had the will to get out of bed most days, let alone nourish your body?

The silence stretched, uncomfortable but truthful.

The nurse waited for a moment, her expression softening as if she could sense your unspoken troubles. “It's important to take care of yourself, you know. Your body needs it so you can function” she told you.

You nodded again, still silent.

How could you explain that your mind had become your worst enemy in the past few months? Ever since the breakup, your life had unraveled in a slow, agonising way.

At first, it was just the small things — forgetting meals, skipping showers, neglecting your apartment. But then it grew worse. Days would go by where you wouldn’t eat anything at all, surviving on coffee and maybe a piece of toast if you could stomach it.

You had lost weight, felt your energy drain away, but none of it seemed to matter. There was a hollowness inside you, and you didn’t know how to fill it.

Yet, despite your own self-destructive spiral, there were moments of light. Minhee and Mingyu had refused to let you drown. They showed up, even when you ignored their calls.

They dragged you out of bed when you had no will to move. It was their gentle yet firm hands that had begun to pull you back from the edge, slowly helping you to rebuild your routines, though the pain of the heartbreak still lingered.

When the nurse left the room, you stared at the ceiling again, your mind replaying the last few months in pieces. The pain of the breakup still lingered, but you knew you couldn’t live like this forever.

The first step to healing was acceptance.

You had to accept that you had to continue your life without Jungkook.

He loved someone else, and was now married — you had to accept that. You had to accept that he was no longer part of your life, that he wasn’t the soulmate the universe had made for you.

Your thoughts were interrupted when the door opened again. With your vision now more steady and clearer, you turned your head towards the door.

Minhee and Mingyu.

“Y/n” Minhee gasped, rushing to your bedside. Mingyu wasn’t far behind, his eyes already glassy with tears. They moved as if they had been holding their breath for hours, waiting for this moment.

You watched the way their faces flooded with relief seeing you awake. As they both sped towards you, you noticed that Mingyu’s eyes were red and puffy, like he had been crying for hours. His bright and easygoing demeanour was nowhere to be found. Minhee on the other looked equally worn. Dark circles marred her eyes, her face pale and drawn like she hadn’t slept all night.

“Oh my god, you’re awake” Minhee whispered as she reached you.

“Do you have any idea how worried we’ve been? You scared the hell out of us” she said, her voice breaking. All you could do was give her a weak hum, your eyes giving her a silent apology.

Mingyu stood on the other side of you, his hand hovering over yours as if he wasn’t sure whether he should touch you or not. His eyes, still bloodshot, were filled with a sadness that tugged your heart.

“Are you feeling okay now?” he asked, trying his best not to break down.

You turned to him and gave him a gentle smile before nodding, “I’m fine Gyu” you told him.

Silence engulfed the room for a minute or two, until he broke it. “You scared the hell out of me,” he choked out. His usual calm composure was slowly crumbling, and it was clear from the way his shoulders trembled.

“I—” his voice broke, and he took a step back, running a hand through his hair, trying to regain some control over his emotions. “I thought something happened to you” he breathed out.

Your eyes softened in guilt. You scared him — really scared him. “I’m sorry” you said with your hoarse voice.

You reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers cold against his warmth. “I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you, but I'm fine now, really” you reassured him.

You swallowed hard, feeling your chest tighten. You sat up slowly though your muscles protested the movement, but you pushed through the discomfort.

Mingyu saw you struggle, and quickly moved to help you sit up. “Hey, take it easy” he said softly.

“I’m fine,” you lied, managing to prop yourself up with a pillow behind your back. But the truth was, you felt anything but fine. Your body was weak and your head was still spinning.

“How long have I been here?” you then asked.

“It’s almost 8a.m. right now, so you’ve been out since 4p.m. yesterday” Mingyu replied.

Your eyes widened. That was almost twenty hours. But it felt like you had blinked and woken up in a different reality. “Fuck” you mumbled under your breath.

“It’s okay though, you needed that long rest” Minhee said, patting your shoulder.

“I know, I just…” you sighed, trailing off.

“You have to start taking care of yourself more Y/n. I know you’re trying but, we don’t want to see you in this condition again” she worriedly said, taking your hand in hers.

“Okay nurse” you weakly chuckled, trying to lighten up the dull mood in the room.

Minhee couldn’t help but roll her eyes, “I’m being serious Y/n” she deadpanned, shutting you up almost instantly.

“I know, I know. I’ll do better, I promise” you told her.

“We just care about you Y/n, a lot. We just don’t want you to lose yourself in the dark when you have us to support you” Mingyu spoke up.

You weren’t used to being vulnerable, but maybe that was what you needed most right now — to let yourself be vulnerable, to lean on the people who loved you instead of carrying the weight of everything alone. You realised that if you were ever going to heal, you couldn’t do it alone. You needed your friends, the people who had always been there for you.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you guys,” you whimpered. You were grateful for them, truly, and you couldn’t imagine your life if they weren’t your best friends.

“You don’t have to find out,” Minhee replied with a smile. “We’re here. Always” she said.

“Thank you” you sniffed, wiping your eyes.

It wasn’t until one of the nurses came in to give you your breakfast that interrupted your conversation. For a moment your attention went to the tray of food that sat on the table next to you. The bland, unappetizing smell was enough to make your stomach turn.

“I can’t believe they expect you to eat this stuff,” Mingyu said, wrinkling his nose. “It looks like it was left out overnight”.

He knew you too well.

You chuckled weakly, “I know. I was hoping it wouldn’t be as bad as it looks, but I’ve been too scared to even try it. Honestly, I think I’d rather starve” you frowned, eyeing the meal with distaste.

Minhee chuckled softly, “yeah, hospital food is notoriously bad” she said.

“Say no more,” Mingyu replied, standing up with a grin. “I’ll head to the canteen and get you something edible. Anything in particular you’re craving?” he asked.

Your eyes lit up, and you smiled at him gratefully. “Anything that doesn’t look like…that,” you said, pointing to the tray. “I trust your judgment”.

Mingyu gave a mock salute. “One gourmet meal coming up” he winked at you and waved to Minhee as he walked out of the room, leaving the two of you alone.

“Such a goofball” Minhee giggled, and you couldn’t agree more.

You and Minhee talked amongst each other for a while. And after a few minutes, the door swung open, and Mingyu reappeared with a grin on his face. He held up a brown paper bag and a bottled drink, stepping toward your bed like a hero returning from a quest.

“Ladies, I have returned bearing gifts,” he announced.

You sat up a little with a flicker of anticipation crossing your face. “Please tell me it’s not worse than the hospital food” you looked at him.

Mingyu pulled out a neatly wrapped sandwich and a small side salad. “I bring you a chicken Caesar sandwich and the finest salad this hospital has to offer”. He placed the meal on the table beside your bed, along with a bottle of iced tea.

You eyed the food with cautious excitement, “you really outdid yourself Gyu. I actually think this is…edible” you said.

Mingyu feigned a bow, “my culinary expertise knows no bounds” he said with a proud smile on his face.

Minhee smiled as you gingerly unwrapped the sandwich and took a tentative bite. You chewed thoughtfully before nodding, “okay, not bad. Definitely better than whatever they served me over there” you spoke out. You had no idea what exactly it was but it was certainly not appetising at all and you’d rather starve than eat that.

The three of you then continued to talk for what felt like hours, catching up with things that you had missed while you were out cold, or of random topics that Minhee and Mingyu forgot to talk to you about.

But there was an elephant in the room, a subject none of you wanted to touch: Jungkook. It was almost laughable how carefully you all danced around the subject, considering how central he had been in your life for so long. Although, you were kind of grateful that they didn’t bring him up. The thoughts of him for the past few months had caused you enough heartbreak.

┄┄┄┄┄

Jungkook walked into the house and closed the front door behind him with a soft but heavy thud. The faint light in the hallway illuminated his furrowed brow and the dark circles forming beneath his eyes.

His heart was still pounding, and it wasn’t just from the hurried drive home. His mind was racing, entangled in a mess of emotions that he couldn’t easily shake.

He was only supposed to a business meeting, expecting nothing more than the usual pleasantries and discussions about growth strategies with his collaborator. But the moment he saw you, his entire world had tilted on its axis.

You weren’t supposed to be there. Or at least, he didn’t expect you to work at his collaborator’s company.

The image of your pale, bloodied face was burned into his memory. The soft thud of your body against his chest had sent his protective instincts into overdrive. He had acted out of reflex, cradling you, trying to call for help.

But before he could do anything, Mingyu had rushed over, his eyes blazing with anger and disgust.

His heart clenched again at the memory of that moment. He had wanted to stay, to make sure you were alright, but the hostility in Mingyu’s eyes had left him feeling powerless and ashamed. He knew he lost the right.

He loosened the tie around his neck with shaking hands, pulling it off and throwing it onto the couch. His skin felt too tight, like his clothes were suffocating him.

He stood in the middle of his living room with panic that had followed him home. His mind swirled with questions: Were you alright? Was it something serious?

He barely noticed Aera watching him from the other side of the room, her arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin, angry line. He was too caught up in his unrest to sense the storm brewing in her.

But she saw everything — the tension in his shoulders, the worry etched into his features, the way his hands trembled slightly as he ran them through his hair. It was all too obvious.

And she hated it.

She had been there, too. She had seen you collapse. She had seen the way he reacted, how he had rushed to catch you as if some instinct still bound you both together. And she had seen something in his eyes that had made her stomach turn. It wasn’t just concern. It was something deeper, something she thought she had banished from his heart long ago.

Finally, unable to stand it any longer, Aera stepped forward, her voice cold, tinged with a bitterness that she could no longer suppress.

“Why are you so worked up about her? You broke up with her, remember?” she snapped.

Her words cut through the air like a knife, and he stopped mid-stride, his body freezing as if struck by a blow. Slowly, he turned to face her, his eyes dark with something raw — anger, regret, pain — all bundled together, swirling dangerously beneath the surface.

Aera recoiled slightly, startled by the intensity of his glare. She had expected guilt, perhaps even an apology for how distracted he had been the entire evening, but not this. Not pure, unfiltered rage.

And when he spoke, his voice was hoarse, almost a growl.

“Of course I remember,” he spat, his voice low, trembling with barely contained fury. “It’s not like I had a choice, did I?” he glared at her, slowly taking a step towards her.

“What do you mean?” she frowned, instinctively taking a step back, “you ended it with her, you chose me” she reminded.

He scoffed, a harsh, humorless sound escaping his throat as he raked a hand through his hair, the strands standing on end with the force of his agitation.

“Chose you?” he repeated, his voice louder now, almost incredulous. “I didn’t choose anything. You think I wanted to end things with her?” he questioned rhetorically.

Aera’s breath caught, her stomach knotting as the room seemed to tilt for a moment. She had never heard him speak like this before, about you, or anything related to either of your past.

His words were barbed, tinged with a depth of emotion she hadn’t anticipated. Her jealousy flared anew, but now it was mingled with something else — fear.

“What are you talking about Jungkook?” she whispered, her eyes searching for him.

“Oh please!” he snapped, raising his voice.

“Quit acting like you don’t fucking know anything!” he yelled, letting his pent up anger finally blow up.

“This is all because of you! You and your fucking family!”

NEXT ➜

#bts #bts jungkook #bts moodboard #bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts smut #btsedit #bts x reader #bts x fem!reader #jungkook fluff #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook gif #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook

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goldsbitch · 8 months ago

Text

Just don't talk-------

-before I get my story straight.

p9 to Just don't talk

summary: Enemies to lovers on steroids. And it's getting really hard keeping it a secret.

It was only lately that Lando started to notice when people watched and flirted with Y/N. Not the fans exactly, but VIP people roaming around the paddock, engineers and anyone falling into a similar category. How did not see this before? It felt like it was everyone and all the time.

That was of course far from the truth, but when one is crushing hard on somebody, it's hard to realize that the rest of the world might not see your desired person in the same light.

He observed her from afar - she practically glowed. Standing in the shade, talking to some guy. He was so focused on watching her that he noticed only later that he knew very well who that guy was - and it was not a pleasant discovery. Out of all the people around, she managed to get talking to a guy that was as far away from being good news as possible. Lando's father rarely gave him advice, but he made sure to highlight to Lando years ago that this guy came from a very dodgy family that was known for attracting dangerous people. Formula 1 attracted lots of rich people and many of them were just not safe company.

He really tried to focus on his data charts and prepare for practice, but that was virtually getting impossible. Y/N wasn't racing today, as a reserve driver was assigned to the session today. So she stood there, in a cure dress, without a care in the world, getting wrapped in the charm of that fucking guy.

That's it - he had enough and his own self-control took a vacation, as he excused himself and marched down her end of the paddock.

Y/N understood that there were important people attending the races. One would never know how much important sometimes, so she made sure be friendly with everyone who was introduced to her, so that she didn't accidentally close any doors. But sometimes, it was a quest of getting out of the conversation as fast as possible. Creepy, overly friendly strangers, who felt like they were entitled to her attention, just because they were part of the sponsors. She had yet to figure out how to get out of these smoothly. Once again, she was stuck in this type of conversation she had no interest in being in at the first place. So she nodded and smiles.

"I can't accept this," she tried to reject a gift, incredibly expensive watch that this person was trying to put on her hand. He was towering over her and she felt slightly intimidated.

"Oh, hello, Y/N!" was a loud and obnoxious interruption from her current secret crush - Lando. He stormed in and yet again inserted himself into a conversation he was not part of. This time, she was relieved to hear his voice and feel his presence behind her.

"Ah, morning Norris." The guy, who's name she forgot, gave Lando a very cold greeting and extended his right hand into a handshake. Lando shook his hand and noticed the watch and his blood boiled even more. Expensive, but cheap tactics to get her under his spell.

"I'd love to stay and chat, but I have to steal Y/N for a moment - we have some media obligations to attend. Sincerest apologies," he said, not even trying to make it sound convincing. Both of the men knew what kind of a game was at play.

"Ah, busy life of a driver," he said, smiling at Y/N once again. It took Lando all that he had not to physically step between them. "Please, accept this small gift from my family. It's a token of gratitude of what you do for the team," he turned to Y/N once again and tried to get a hold of her hand. This time, Lando did stop him and looked him dead in the eye.

"Ah, that is sweet. But I believe she is contractually obligated to wear only certain brands of watches, correct, Y/N?"

Lando burned with a "don't you fucking dare" stare, one that she'd only seen on his face when she'd stop wanking him out of nowhere before he could finish, just to tease him. It was a very different setting and Y/N was more that happy to nod.

"Sadly, that is true. Though it is very pretty!"

Lando mind screamed with disbelief. Was she for real? Pretty?

He was set on getting them out asap. "We really need to get going. Hope I'll see you again soon." NOT.

"Of course. Please, Norris, say hi to your father. Would like to invite him for a dinner sometime," he responded nonchalantly.

"I definitely will," Lando replied with a crooked smile as he dragged Y/N out without letting her say goodbye. It was a habit for him to pick the least visible path around the paddock. He did not need any prying eyes as he held her hand firmly while sprinting away.

"Lando, slow the fuck down!" she whispered, trying to keep up with him. Normally, Lando would throw in a racing joke, but he was really not in the mood.

"If you wanna a fucking watch, I’ll buy you a watch. With no strings attached," he said, hoping that she'd get his message without him needing to explain it.

Yes, great. No strings attached again. Perfect.

Y/N was happy when Lando came to save her. She thought that he saw her being uncomfortable and decided to save her. But apparently no. It was just a male ego game.

"But what if I want strings attached? What if I want to know you family, friends and be there for the good and the bad?" she almost said outloud - but did not.

"I don't want any watch," she replied eventually.

Lando was annoyed even more now. She was acting all naive again, same as when there was the cloud of confusion about her future in F1. How could someone be so smart and so clueless at the same time? Why did he even care about her getting in trouble? They walked in silence for a moment. Both trying to get out of this rut.

"You look great, by the way," he said to ease the tension. The dress was distracting him from the fact he was somewhat mad at her. Her cleavage pushed up just enough for his liking. He couldn't wait to fuck her again. And preferably to cuddle also afterwards. He had start working on that too. Getting these other men out of her head.

"Thank you," she said, unable to prevent her cheeks from blushing. He missed that, as he walked fast like a mad man. "Where are we going exactly?" she asked as she rushed slightly behind Lando.

"Somewhere private."

He dragged through the side entrance into the McLaren space, at some point even reaching for her hand to keep her close. Luckily, they hadn't raised any alarm passing by on the way to his driver room. Her heart was beating slightly faster than his.

Lando was rilled up after watching the guy flirt with her so shamelessly. She was way better than those people. Precious. His.

He swiftly opened the door, let her in and then locked it. She was looking at him with her doe eyes, looking all cute and sweet. Not her usual look. There was tenderness in her face.

"I like you in dresses," he said as he walked closer to her.

"Do you now?"

He nodded and took a strand of her hair and put it behind her ear. She batted her eyes and that was when he lost it. There was just so much about her that he was attracted to - he wanted to know everything. What were her desires? Darkest fantasies? What made her shiver? What made her scream in pleasure. He knew lots of things, from all of their "practice sessions" they'd have. But this was more about her mind then body. He wanted to mind fuck her into becoming obsessed with him. To hell with healthy.

He picked her up, sat her on a table, put his hand on the back of her neck and slammed his mouth onto hers. She gasped, slightly suprised, but quickly opened her mouth and invited him in. They way she sat there, legs slightly open, was driving him mad. She wrapped around his torso and Lando felt his growing cock hitting his suit. She smiled, knowing well enough what she was doing to him. He moved to kiss her neck, trying to avoid making a mark, but it was so hard when she was moaning so beautifully. He squeezed her boobs, after having to stay away from them the moment he saw the dress hugging her tightly. It was passionate, yet every touch came not only with eagerness but also care. He had selfish thought - but not about making himself feel good, but about being the one who made her feel great. He was about to put his hand under her skirt and tease her more, but his actions were interrupted by the other door opening.

"Fuck," he said, burying his head into her neck. He forgot to lock the door to Oscar's room. "Osc! Hello mate. Get out."

Oscar stood there, more annoyed than confused. "Mate, I don't care about what you do, but half of the team is looking for you."

Y/N was mortified. They really should be more careful.

"Great. I'm coming in a moment," Lando said to Oscar, visibly irritated.

"Again, I can see that, but we need you at the engineer room." Oscar joked, but as he saw that Lando was looking for something to throw at him, he backed away. "Joking, joking. And also leaving. Hi, Y/N," he waved at her awkwardly.

"Hey," she responded, utterly humiliated. "Can you please keep this between us?" she asked quietly.

Lando was hurt by the shame he heard in her voice. Was she ashamed by being seen with him?

"I was never here," was Oscar's simple reply as he walked out the way he came in. Yet again, another moment of silent tension.

"Lando, this is getting out of hand," she said, after analysing how much her hormones dictated her actions. Even now, after being caught by Oscar, the only thing she wished for was to see Lando's eyes closing while coming and his body getting all tense - as it usually did.

He was flustered and went into damage control mode. He had good faith in Oscar and his confidentiality. It was here her that he was worried about. Cold feet. Not now, not when started to become sure himself and what he actually wanted. "I know, I know." He wanted to stay there with and talk, figure shit out. But he had responsibilities. And these things were better not rushed. And he was a good ol' chicken anyway. "Y/N, please stay calm and don't do any rushed decision. I gotta run now, but let's put a pause and resume soon. Does that work for you?"

How could she do anything else when he his intense stare was making her melt. Raw honesty in the air.

"Of course."

"Good," he said and kissed her goodbye. As if he had done that thousand times before.

He rushed away and she sat there for good two minutes before making any move. One thought skipping over another.

p10

_________________________________________

@scopeiguess @leclercsluv @sulliamour @starmanv @riverxsq @eviethetheatrefreak @chonkybonky @bicchaan @saachiep81

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cancerian-woman · 25 days ago

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klonnie au|inspired by the haunted mansion: For over a thousand years Klaus has loved and mourned his former wife, Bonnie. He has searched and discarded many companionships, but no one has been able to love and understand him like Bonnie did. Klaus has forcibly adapted to life without her, but on his journey to break his curse, he sees Bonnie following around a certain doppelgänger. He knows in his heart that Bonnie has returned to him and he's going to need his siblings' help getting her back.

An excerpt from this fic:

Bonnie set her skepticism aside as she sat her duffle bed on the large vintage ottoman of the Mikaelsons spare bedroom. Rebekah planned her birthday sleepover for her fellow cheerleaders weeks ago. This “holiday” was extra special to Bonnie’s physics partner, as her older brothers would be turning home from their business trip. While Rebekah has only been at Mystic Falls High for four weeks, Bonnie oddly trusted her like a sister.

The little witch was the first to arrive at the Mikaelson mansion. With whispers of magic in the house Bonnie couldn’t help but investigate. As a newbie witch, she wanted to find any source of new information possible. Her bedroom for the night was vintage styled and decorated with vibrant flowers in every corner. The smell of citrus hit her nose and she couldn’t be more pleased.

Bonnie did a twirl in the mirror admiring Rebekah’s choice in silk nightgowns and headbands. The witch saved herself some preparation time by pinning up her curled hair. Her peer did inform her since she was there first, she got to choose the red gown specifically. When was the last time her life was centered around an enjoyable night and not the struggles of being supernatural?

“You look beautiful,” Rebekah grinned, and stepped into the bedroom. “I could not imagine my birthday without you. You have been the kindest friend.”

Bonnie quickly accepted the hug. She felt a sense of magic within Rebekah but trusted she’d tell the truth on her own terms. Whether that be as a witch, werewolf or vampire. This girl was kind and it wouldn’t be fair though her friends suggested otherwise to call her out. Besides, Bonnie hadn’t even met the rest of the family. The cheer squad’s first night at the Mikaelsons wasn’t going to be filled with drama, not on Rebekah’s day.

“Wouldn’t miss your birthday for the world,” Bonnie replied, giving Rebekah an extra squeeze. “I can help you set up.”

Rebekah laughed at that. “Nonsense, darling, I can handle everything. Take a tour of my home.”

“Are you sure?” Bonnie asked, with her eyes wide. “What if I helped set the tables, arrange blankets or even do the food?”

“Yes, do not worry in my home you are not a guest here,” Rebekah said, sternly with a sigh beginning to turn away. The teen wasn’t even finished applying her makeup-and was still dressed in her bright robe. The rolls were just beginning to slip in her blonde hair. “Just shout if you need me!”

Bonnie checked her phone Caroline and Elena would be running late for different reasons. The others on the squad were on their way or running behind leaving Bonnie to explore on her own.

The Mikaelson manor sent shivers down Bonnie's spine. The place felt like a magical hotspot, giving her goosebumps all over. While she admired the clever vintage-themed designs of the family, she found their home to be dangerously confusing to navigate.

Bonnie decided to go to the nearest room with a light seeping through under the door. She gasped, as she accidentally stepped into a private art space.

The woman in the painting reminded Bonnie of herself before she entered the supernatural world: happy, carefree and filled with gratitude. Magic gave this woman joy. She existed across different eras, and Bonnie couldn't help but notice the time periods, which ranged from 1002 to the 2010s. The artist signed himself as Nik M with sentiments on eternal love. The woman through the art had lived through each era, embodying the luxurious fashion trends of Black women.

Bonnie wouldn’t go so far as to call this woman her doppelgänger, but the similarities were striking. They both had green eyes, golden skin, thick dark hair and other common traits like freckles in the Bennett’s. The young witch tried not to dwell on it, but for a moment, she entertained the unsettling thought of being a doppelgänger and shivered at the idea.

The painting that captivated Bonnie the most was of a woman with curly hair obscuring her face, holding her head high as if magic were being used to promote relaxation. Surrounded by a lush garden, she appeared more content than anything else in the world. In fact, in none of these paintings the woman was never down; she was at peace. As Bonnie reached out to touch the painting, she quickly withdrew her hand when the door opened.

“Not everyday I find a beautiful woman in my study,”

This man was unlike any she had ever seen. His dimpled grin and the curls resting on his shoulders caught Bonnie off guard. He had an enticing scent of expensive cologne that hinted at his attention to appearance. Although his shirt and pants were a simple dark henley with jeans, she couldn't help but notice his preference for a chain featuring a butterfly around his neck. Yes, she noticed an English accent similar to Rebekah’s.

“You can call me Nik, what is your name?” Nik asked, holding his hand out for Bonnie. “I am one of Rebekah’s eldest brothers.”

“Bonnie. Bonnie Bennett,” Bonnie said, returning the shake.

Their enclosed hand jolted upon touch and Bonnie quickly pulled away hoping Klaus didn’t notice.

“I thought Rebekah said you wouldn’t be home until later?”

“It is my sister’s birthday, what type of brother would I be without a surprise?”

“Dramatic entrance, for a smart brother.”

“I strive for the element of surprise, my love.” Nik smiled at the compliment.

Never being alone with a grown man before Bonnie’s mouth went dry and she got flustered. She was met at an uncomfortable crossroad. Be herself or do what her friends would do? She chose herself first.

“I can leave,” Bonnie suggested, not knowing how to flirt properly. “I know art can be really personal. I wouldn’t want to disrespect your space.”

“As an artist, explaining my motives is just as important. Would you desire a tour?” Nik questioned, holding his hand out for Bonnie. “There are hundreds perhaps more here. All of my wife.”

Bonnie reluctantly accepted the warm invitation. Their hands jolted and she felt a fiery passion burn the closer she was to Klaus.

“Do you mind if I ask what happened?” Bonnie asked, as judging the photos of the woman framed on his antique desk.

“She was murdered, and before that, we promised eternal love. We wanted our story to be heard for centuries. I use my art to cope with her loss.” Nik sighed, as he traced a photo of the woman in seventies inspired clothing. “Love will never die, it was rather the purest forms of eternal affection.”

“I’m sorry you lost her. The way you remember her is really beautiful, Nik.” Bonnie compliments, and secretly swoons over him. “Did you ever receive justice for her murder?”

Klaus mockingly grinned at that question. “That person will never be heard from again. Tell me, Bonnie, do you ever think it is possible for souls to be connected?”

“Sounds like something out of a movie.” Bonnie said, brushing off the question. Not wanting to reveal her witch status.

“I think some people are aligned by fate. What goes around will return if it is meant to be.” Klaus pauses, and gazes into Bonnie really studying her beauty.

Klaus's throat went dry as he realized that Bonnie was exactly who Rebekah had described: his small, courageous, and daringly beautiful witch who loved him unashamedly. The red silk gown sparked the most enticing thoughts in his mind, and her skin still bore the sweet scent of honeysuckle that he remembered. However, instead of rushing to confess things that might send Bonnie running for the hills, he chose a softer approach.

“You're distracting, my love, would you like to see other pieces of art? The gardens perhaps?”

Bonnie blushed in response. There was something mystical and comforting about the mystical English artist. She’d rather hear stories about a man who loved his wife so much he kept her immortal in time.

“First, I want to know all about the artist and his work dedicated to making his wife immortal,” Bonnie said, looking into Klaus eyes. She might not tell everyone but she too enjoyed a romantic story from time to time!

For a fleeting moment that almost made the witch step-away she believed she saw Amber colored eyes but blue settled back in.

“Who would I be to disagree with a ravishing woman?” Klaus asked, pulling Bonnie closer to him. He wanted to moan at how sweet she smelled.

Bonnie giggled, and rolled her eyes. “Then I want that tour of the gardens and the pool area please? Rebekah is still getting ready.”

“As you wish,” Klaus obliged, and he noticed how Bonnie loved eye contact and physical touch as he explained his motives though she already understood him.

Klaus didn’t need to taste her blood or have a witch perform a spell to understand his wife had returned back to him. Once the time is right, Bonnie too will believe in their love again. His mother and father sought to keep them separated and Klaus will go to the ends of the earth to ensure Bonnie never leaves his life again.

The original vampire is just grateful Rebekah stalled Bonnie as he removed the paintings of her sleeping, jogging, gardening and anything else without her knowledge that would incriminate him too soon.

#a fic im writing but isn’t ready to post #but perfect time to share this 💕🌚#bonnie bennett #klaus mikaelson #klonnie #klonnie fanfic #klonnie fic #driawrites #klonnie mischief #tvd #the vampire diaries #bonnie x klaus #klaus x Bonnie

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legitalicat · 8 months ago

Text

Sweet Sister (Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon)

AN: Oh gosh guys. I did it. Thank you to @zaldritzosrose for being my workshop partner (I also got the amazing dividers from her) and to my spiritual twin @foxyanon for reading a bit of it when I needed to make sure it was okay. Also this snowballed very hard very fast I am sorry.

Masterlist here!

Summary: It wasn't the fault of them that this was their lot in life. Aemond and YN could only make the best of a marriage they did not particularly want. Yet Jacaerys does not see it as an obstacle. The gods made her for him. She was meant to be his.

TW: Language, characters are over 18, AFAB reader, use of YN in 3rd person pov, use of she/her pronouns, SMUT SMUT SMUT, oral (fem!receiving), a smidge of dry humping, lactation kink, tiddie sucking, masturbation, cuck!Aemond, threesome, Dom!Jacaerys, switch!Aemond (mostly veering on subbing), sub!reader, pregnancy kink, breeding kink, Jace's monster cock, NO DANCE, canon typical Targcest, Jace grinding his cock on Aemond, Jace cumming on Aemond, cum eating, spit, political marriage, Jace kinda teaching Aemond to proper fuck his wife, I think that's all

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon Niece!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x younger sister!Reader

Word count: 6.2k

It wasn’t his fault.

It was a thought that lived consistently in her mind in the years since her marriage. Both of them offered to each other’s mother as a solution to the growing rift between them. A marriage made in desperate hopes to avoid an ever looming annihilation.

It was good, she supposed, that it was to a man she was so familiar with. Her Uncle Aemond, while never particularly warm, had always been kind enough. He usually spared her the vitriol he shot at her brothers. Even when making it clear he knew the truth, he was less violent in his hatred. Queen Alicent raised him to be better than that.

A spat between boys here and there was acceptable, expected even. Training together, he got plenty of chance to beat on them, to spill the vile whispers that invaded his ears. Nobody but Ser Harwin ever said anything, but Aemond figured it was only because he was too stupid to pretend as everyone else did.

YN was different. Between his mother and Ser Criston, he knew that every woman was meant to be seen with a certain amount of respect. Despite who her father was, or wasn’t, YN was a princess. She was not like her brothers, who antagonized him at every step. And so he would hold his tongue.

As children, they were polite to each other. If he and the Velaryon boys were arguing, he went quiet when she would walk into the room. He would hold the door for her and in the same motion let it slam on Jacaerys.

It was this politeness that allowed Alicent to see reason. She couldn’t marry her only daughter to one of Rhaenyra’s sons, yet the King made it clear that it was his will their lines would converge. She made a counter offer to Rhaenyra’s, Aemond wed to YN. The Princess of Dragonstone denied for many the same reasons The Queen denied hers. But the Driftmark Incident all but forced her hand if she wished for Lucerys to remain unharmed as a consequence.

He was a good husband to her when they married not long after her coming of age. He stood by her side at court, always keeping her close. Over the moons they spent at each other’s side, a natural affection was felt between them. It may not have been a fairytale romance, but he at least could be counted as her friend. And for a girl who was without her family for the first time in her life, a friend was exactly what she needed.

It wasn’t Aemond’s fault that they were still expected to provide children to their line. They held off as long they could. Yet as they approached two years of marriage, rumors of infertility started hanging over their head. He could not bare to leave his wife to such scrutiny. It was only then they started laying together as husband and wife.

The affection they felt gave a solid foundation for their relationship in the bedroom. It was an awkward beginning in which he would blush every time his hand grazed her breasts and a small squeak would leave her lips when she saw him naked. Aemond, though, was a man of proficiency. He always planned to be the best in everything, the need in him increasing tenfold upon learning that bringing his wife to orgasm increased her odds of becoming pregnant.

“You looked lovely tonight at dinner,” he commented as they came from dinner.

“Thank you, husband. Your words flatter me always,” she told him.

He opened the door to their suite, the warmth of the fire already having filled the living space. When the door closed behind them, she let out a noticeable breath of relief. She always preferred the peace of their suite.

He stepped closer and began to unlace her gown. She reached behind her as he did so and took a hold of one of his wrists.

“Are you nervous?” he whispered. She hadn’t been nervous with him in months, but he always asked.

“Grateful, I suppose. For a husband like you,” she told him. Her dress fell to the ground in a pool around her ankles. She had forgone her slip and so she now stood naked in front of him. “I must admit though, today I am eager. I feel as though soon I shall be pregnant.”

He gave a small smile even though she could not see him. “A darling mother you shall be. How many do you wish us to have?”

“No less than two,” she told him. “So I hope you do not mind continuing this for a few years yet to come.”

“Never, my sweet niece. After all, I do still enjoy myself as a man should when I bed you.”

Satisfied, she released his wrist entirely so that he move as he wish. A feather light kiss to her shoulder as he began to undo his pants. A hand roaming the front of her body from behind, grabbing and squeezing to elicit soft little hums of approval from her. With his pants off, he stepped closer to her.

“Settee or bed?” he whispered in her ear, his hard cock pressing firmly against her ass.

“Settee,” she whispered while a shudder moved through her. Within a heartbeat, he lead her to the sofa near them.

“I want to make sure my seed takes in your womb, little wife,” he whispered in her ear before he helped her into position.

His touch traveled from her hip to entangle itself in her hair. She turned her face to him to allow a single kiss before he pushed her head roughly onto the settee’s cushion. Any sound she made was muffled by the cushion, but it was how they preferred.

The blood rush provided by his delicate fingers created as many desires in her as it sated. Any looks of love he would give her would be fake, they didn’t love each other. Yet when his nails raked against her back as he prepared to grab her hips, she knew she was lucky in this.

His left hand rested along the curve of her hip, fingers digging into the soft flesh to hold her where he wanted her. His right hand moved between her thighs before finding their home in her folds.

The fabric where her mouth was pressed warmed against her skin as she let out small, repetitive moans. In the months since their first bedding, his fingers had become experts at a quick orgasm. He would flex his thumb to rest against her pearl with fluctuating pressures in time with the speed of his middle and ring fingers thrusting into her cunt.

Her thighs trembled as Aemond curled his fingers, coaxing her orgasm ever closer. A faint sound of her moaning made it to his ears as her walls tightened around the digits. She came hard, only getting a second’s reprieve before his hand moved away and it’s presence replaced by his long cock.

His hips repeatedly moving into her turned him into a desperate man. Watching himself disappear into her cunt while her ass melted against the muscles of his lower abdomen was a sight made of sin. She was soaked around him, her juices dripping off his cock.

Aemond was a restrained man until he was on the precipice of orgasm. It was when she felt his fingers return to her swollen pearl and his hips start to stutter that she cried out. She could feel him pawing at her back, his once anchoring grasp becoming a desperate touch. His movements were no longer careful and considered as he rubbed his thumb eagerly against her pearl and fucked into her with abandon. She could feel the tension begin to build within her as she whispered his name into the cushion again and again.

She came for a second time, squealing into the cushion as she attempted to move forward. The pleasurable band that had snapped inside her belly increased how much she felt tenfold. Every movement of his cock was like the sweetest torture. The head pushed against that spongy spot inside of her, making her whimper with every brush. Her walls gripped even tighter, like he was the missing piece of her.

He groaned out her name as he released his spend, ropes of white coating her walls. She was certain, as he pulled out of her while trying to steady his breath, that this was it. This would be their luck.

Within two moons she had confirmation she was pregnant. She wrote letters to her family immediately upon telling Aemond. Together, they would walk to Her Grace the Queen’s apartments and tell her she would once again become a grandmother. One would think they had divulged the secrets of the universe with the way the Queen became so overjoyed.

She was approaching her fifth month of pregnancy when her family returned to King’s Landing so that her mother could take the Throne. With the passing of King Viserys, many had anticipated war. But neither Rhaenyra or Alicent wanted to risk losing their grandchild. If war had broken out, both knew that the baby would be torn between the desires of both it’s parents. That was enough.

YN stood in wait for her family alone at the Dragon Pit. The peace was tense already, and they had yet to arrive. But one by one, the elder members of her family landed on their dragons in front of her.

A journey by ship would take too long when there was a throne to take. Her mother dismounted Syrax with grace befitting a queen. Her eyes though did not fix themselves to her mother, instead the new Prince of Dragonstone capturing her full attention.

“My sweet sister,” her older brother said once he dismounted Vermax.

Jacaerys looked at her like she was his favorite toy. Two years her elder and that had never changed. She was his little sister, the one he knew the gods crafted from the heavens specifically for him. It was everything he believed to be true. She was meant to be his Queen, to be his.

That is why he was never too worried about her betrothal to Aemond when it was announced. Jace knew he didn’t necessarily need to be her first husband. Men run away or die every day, leaving their families behind. Knowing his uncle meant knowing how perfect the one eyed man had to be. He anticipated Aemond running away the moment he proved to be subpar at being a husband.

And when he did inevitably run, when he did abandon his wife, all Jacaerys needed to do was be there. He had told YN her entire life how he adored her, how he would give her a crown and a throne and nobody would doubt his devotion to her. She would be his equal in every way once he was King. No marriage to some lesser standing man would change that.

“Jace,” she said with a smile on her face. She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He was sturdy, lean but firm. There was no sway in his body when she all but collided into him in her excitement, her small bump pressing against him. He held her just as close.

Even her pregnancy could not dissuade him from believing they were meant for each other. Jacaerys knew she would have children from this marriage, he had long prepared for that reality. But this child was as much of her as it was of Aemond, and he would love every part of his beloved sister.

“You are stunning, my queen. The babe is not too much trouble, I hope?” he asks when he pulls away. But only enough to look at her.

“Oh none at all. The little bug has only just began kicking,” she told him.

“I was more referring to your husband, but I am grateful your pregnancy has been easy thus far,” he told her with a smirk, creating a giggle she could not hold back.

His eyes look over her face more times than he can count. He had never seen a beauty such as hers. From the way her lips stretched as she smiled, to the little furrow in her brow as she watched him look at her, to the subtlety of her eyes shining with a joy he doubted she had for years. Everything about her captivated him.

As his eyes raked further down her body he was a man in love. Her breasts already were beginning to swell with milk, looking deliciously full and ripe for providing his pleasure. The bump was small, he knew she wasn’t too far along just yet, but seeing evidence of a child growing inside her was enough for him to feel like a man gone mad.

His cock began to swell under his trousers. He could not resist pulling her in for another hug just to be able to rut against her for a mere moment. It was subtle, discreet, one would be forgiven for thinking it was the embrace of a brother who missed his sister. She knew what he was doing. She could feel his bulge pressing through his skirts and against her heat.

“I have missed you dearly, my queen,” he whispered in her ear.

“I have missed you as well, my dear brother,” she whispered, hugging him tighter to her.

Pregnancy had a way of clouding her judgement. She desired more than just this juvenile attempt at some relief. And while it was true Aemond would tend to her when her hormones became too overwhelming, there was a difference. Aemond was her husband, the man she was legally bound to. He was the father of the babe cradled safely inside her. He was allowed.

Jace was her older brother. Adore him as she might, he had no true claim to her. They had risked enough the night before her wedding when he made her ride his thigh to orgasm. It was his way of ensuring she knew pleasure before he would get the chance to properly give it to her. But now, to even do this was a slap in the face to her husband and an affront to the gods.

He pulled away, completely this time, and smiled at her. “Your presence has been missed deeply, sweetling.”

And with no other words he stepped away and allowed a proper greeting between her and their mother.

With Rhaenyra’s coronation and subsequent restructuring of the Small Council, life remained hectic for months. Rhaenyra was smarter than her father as a ruler, she understood that the only thing that posed a threat to her rule was the ambitions of one man in particular. The best way to remove such a threat was to understand the ambition and give it only enough power to remain useful to her.

Her first act? Removing Otto Hightower as Hand. He was still on the Small Council as Master of Whisperers, as he was a man best kept close and an expert of intelligence. In his stead she placed Jacaerys until such a time he was married and would move to his seat of Dragonstone. It would give him opportunity to learn the workings of ruling the country that would once be his. As a way to create good faith between her and her brothers, she offered them positions as well. She would appoint Aemond as Master of Laws, as she doubted there were any who knew more of Westeros’ histories and laws as him. And for Aegon she created the position of Master of Celebrations, offering no further explanation before he accepted.

Being as her husband was preoccupied with his newfound duties, YN spent many nights alone. The babe, due in the next month by now, made her ache and weep. It was all she could do to avoid such pains. If it wasn’t her back or hips hurting, both from the weight of her stomach and the way her body prepared for labour, it was the way her breasts were already filling to the brim.

Her only comfort was found in her baths. The water ran so hot it would be uncomfortable for many. She had the blood of dragons coursing through her, she carried a dragon inside her. A little extra heat did nothing to dissuade her.

In fact, she was sitting on the bed, waiting for her maids to bring forth the water needed. Her hands massaged her aching breasts to attempt to provide any relief for her. As such, she was hardly covered by anything. Only a thin sheet laid draped over her lower half.

There was a knock on the door. She beckoned them inside, assuming it was her maids. Yet when she opened her eyes, there stood Jacaerys. Her eyes widened slightly, though she made no grand attempt to hide herself.

“My sweet, are you okay?” he asked her softly. His voice was filled with a love she had mostly forgotten.

“Pregnancy is hard on the body, at it turns out,” she joked as he came closer to her. It was then she pulled the sheet up further, now hiding her breasts.

“And your husband is not here to attend to you,” he commented. He sat in front of her on the bed and repositioned the sheet, exposing her breasts and pregnant belly to him.

“He does as he can. His duties have been weighing more as of late, though, so I am typically asleep by his finishing hour,” she told him.

“A dutiful wife. Never speaking ill of him,” he whispered.

“He has been good to me, Jace. He cares a great deal for my safety and happiness. Better to me than I believe many would have been,” she said in response. Her words were soft and genuine. She bore no ill will for Aemond, truly she did not. And she would not pretend she did.

“I am grateful you were granted such a kindness by the gods.”

His hands moved now from the sheet he stilled gripped to roam her stomach. The babe kicked at his touch as if to say hello. The two chuckled at the sensation.

“She has never kicked so eagerly before,” YN told him.

“She?” he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

“Call it instinct,” she shrugged, smiling at his hand on her stomach.

“She has a fiery resolve, just as her mother and her mother before,” Jacaerys told her happily before leaning forward and placing a kiss to her stomach. “Such a beautiful mother already, my queen.”

“You are too good at your flattery, brother,” she whispered.

“Is it flattery if it’s true? Is it flattery if just the sight of you, swollen with a babe and practically dripping milk, make my cock harden?” he asked, looking up at her with his chin rested on her stomach.

When her jaw slacked and her lips parted, he knew he had her attention in the way he needed. He moved up her body, pressing gentle kisses along her stomach and breasts as he did. Her uptick in breathing was bordering on panting as she watched him. His mess of curls tickled her skin just as his lips did.

“Can’t wait until it is my babe in your stomach. But I will love this one just the same,” he murmured against her skin.

“I am married, brother,” she whispered as she attempted to move his head away.

“You think the gods care for the law of man when they have crafted you for me?” he asked. His body did not budge at her insistent nudges.

“Jacaerys,” she whispered.

His hand flew up to grip her wrist. It did not hurt but it was a former grasp than Aemond ever had. In a moment her hand was being held to the mattress by his own, his head unmoving. His face was nestled comfortably in the crook of her neck where he inhaled deeply.

“You know you were made for me, little one, just as I have known it always. And you said yourself our uncle cares for your happiness, yet where is he? Why does he not tend to you as you prepare for him the greatest gift?” he murmured against her neck.

“He is busy,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut as he once again inhaled her.

“The gods themselves would have to bind me to the earth in order to keep me from putting my cock in you whenever you needed,” he told her before nipping at her skin.

His free hand found it’s way to her left breast. She whimpered a bit under his touch, the pain she felt earlier mixing with a pleasure from how much he desired her. She could feel his smirk against her neck as he began rutting his hips against her lap. His hardened cock pressed painfully into her thigh.

She should tell him to move. She knew he would respect her desires. But how could she focus on any desire she held save for him? She had always loved Jacaerys as he loved her.

Her first memory was of Jace promising her she would be his Queen. He doted on her from the moment she was born. He had always told her she was his, made for him by the gods to be his perfect match, even after her betrothal. And while she understood the role she was meant to play in keeping the peace, she believe it too.

“What is this?” Aemond’s voice said from the door.

YN was about to answer him, to insist that despite what it looked like she had only been waiting for her maids to draw her bath. She could only hope he would understand. Instead, Jace sat up. He smirked at his younger sister before turning to face Aemond, his hand never leaving hers.

“I am doing your job, since apparently you do not find my sweet sister important enough,” he said to the blonde man.

“Do not speak to me of my wife,” Aemond said darkly. “She understands the nature of my position.”

“You do not speak to me of my sister,” Jace commanded. “She is beauty in all she is, she is carrying your child, and yet you do not wait on her hand and foot? Instead leaving her to rot in this room while you pour over your books and scrolls.”

“I am a prince you do not get to speak to me this way,” Aemond said angrily, though not as loud.

“And I am Prince of Dragonstone, Heir to the Iron Throne!” Jace all but shouted. “I should have your cock removed since you do not use it as you should! Send you to the Wall for daring to deny my sister an existence of gluttonous pleasure!”

Aemond silenced himself and looked to his wife. His wife who, until this moment, he wasn’t aware could look at someone with such a burning desire. But she looked at Jacaerys the way he had once hoped they would looked at each other, when he thought there was hope they would love each other. He could see that for her, Jacaerys hung the moon and stars.

“Close the door and sit in that chair by the window,” Jace told Aemond.

Having no choice to comply, the older man did as asked. There was little doubt in his mind Jacaerys would send him to the Wall if for no other reason than to have YN to himself. And so, he shut the bedroom door and took a seat in the chair.

The bed was close enough he got a perfect side view of his wife. He could admit the sight of her displayed in such a manner stirred something inside him. He could feel his cock twitch at the sight of her full breasts, her rounded belly, but mostly? It was the way she wasn’t even concerned with him.

Her focus was solely on Jacaerys now. Her brother was back to pressing kisses against her body. It was the first time Aemond could see the faces she made with the slightest pleasure. How easily her face contorted the second Jacaerys took one of her nipples between his teeth was a sight he wished he could commit to memory.

“Some ground rules,” Jacaerys said after pulling away from her breast. He looked to Aemond. “Sit in that fucking chair until I tell you you’re allowed to move. Answer me when you’re spoken to. Stroke your dick or whatever, just do not leave that chair.”

“And if she asks for me?” Aemond asked him.

“She won’t,” was all Jacaerys offered him. But it was enough to make YN whimper beneath him. Aemond flushed as his cock twitched once again, hardening with every passing second.

Jacaerys turned to YN, smiling down at her. “And you, my beautiful, darling, sweet sister…all I want is your permission to love your body the way it is meant to be loved,” he said. His voice with her was soft and tender as opposed to how harsh and angry he was with Aemond.

“Jace,” she whispered. She began to turn to Aemond, but Jacaerys gripped her chin and kept her gaze on him.

“No, my queen, it is not about him. It is about you, and us. About you belonging to me, if you wish,” he whispered to her. His brown doe eyes made her melt before he sat up, finally releasing her hand to he could grab the bottom of his shirt.

All she could do is nod. She was speechless with the sight of him pulling off his shirt. His toned abdomen caused a gush of her arousal to pool between her legs.

She felt heat flood her cheeks when he removed the sheet from her lower half. Her face felt even hotter when he pushed her legs apart, eyes locking in on her cunt.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby,” he praised her, hands rubbing the inside of her thighs. “Doesn’t she have a pretty pussy, Uncle?”

For the first time, YN looked at him. Her wide eyes were heavy with lust. In all the nights they had spent together, he had never really allowed himself the chance to take in the beauty of her face. He wanted more. Needed more

“Yes,” was all he could manage to say. His eyes moved from her face to where Jace was touching her. In almost expert fashion, Jace removed his pants. His cock was longer than Aemond’s, thicker too. As husband and wife stared at the monstrous cock, they both couldn’t imagine how it would fit.

“Have you drank from these tits, Uncle?” Jace asked Aemond without turning his eyes from her pussy. He smirked at how wet his sister was, feeling more desire in him than he had ever felt before.

“Not yet,” Aemond choked out. His self restraint was out the window now. He pulled his cock from his trousers and gripped it in his hand.

“Seems fitting, I suppose. You were the first to fuck a babe into her, I shall be the first to drink from her,” Jacaerys smirked at the idea of claiming a part of her Aemond had not.

He laid his cock in between her slick folds, allowing it to rest against her clit while he leaned down and began suckling from her. His left hand held one tit while he suckled from the other. Her sweet milk flowed freely past his eager lips and onto his greedy tongue.

He moaned against her as he ground his hips against hers. Her slick aided his cock in sliding between her folds and creating a friction that caused her to whine out. She couldn’t hold the moans from her lips.

“Fuck,” Aemond whispered. His pupil was blown wide as he desperately stroked his cock. Pre-cum beaded on the head just to continuously be wiped away by a swipe of his cum.

With a loud pop, Jacaerys pulled off her tit. He kissed her hungrily. There was nothing he needed more than her. He couldn’t help himself. He pulled his hips back just far enough to readjust, pushing his cock into her. She groaned into the kiss, feeling the burn of stretching around him. His hips stilled when his cock was seated half way inside her.

He broke the kiss after several moments. He looked between her lips and her leaking tits. His cock throbbed at the sight.

“So beautiful,” he whispered. “So fuckable. So perfect on my cock.”

“Yours, Jacey, yours,” she muttered. She made a pointed effort to ignore her husband whimpering in his chair. The thought of him so hard at this sight made her pussy flutter around the cock inside her. “Want your fucking cock, Jacey. All of it.”

He kissed all over her face as he pushed further into her. She cried out his name repeatedly, moaning, begging for more in the same breath she cried it was too much. Jacaerys nearly busted inside her in that moment. Her full tits moving with just the slightest snap of his hips, her cock drunk expression written on her face, her pregnant stomach pushing against him.

With her beautiful sounds as encouragement, he began fucking into her with abandon. All that mattered to him was how perfect she felt around him. Her walls squeezed around his cock in a quiet desperation to keep him inside her. With every stroke, the tip pushed against the spongey part of her walls, causing her to cry out his name. She was more sensitive in her pregnancy, allowing for her orgasm to build quickly.

“Fuck, fuck,” she moaned out as the band inside her snapped and her orgasm washed over her entirely.

The gush of her release flooded over his cock. He wanted to hear her moans every day. It was all he could think about as his balls, heavy with his load, slapped against her ass. His grunts and groans of pleasure drowned her out until finally he cried out her name, spilling his seed deep inside her.

“Stop,” YN commanded Aemond after a few seconds.. He looked to her face desperately, obediently stopping his furious tugs of his cock just as he was on the verge of his own release.

“What do you wish, my queen?” Jace panted, pulling his still throbbing cock from her.

“Eat your spend from my cunt. Then when you pull away I wish Aemond to begin to fuck me, and you spit your seed into his mouth,” she told her brother, never looking away from Aemond. She watched as his cock twitched with anticipation. “I think that is what my husband wants, too.”

Jace smirked at her once more before looking to Aemond. “Come over here, then. Naked. My Queen wishes to enjoy you.”

Aemond had never moved so fast in his life. As Jace moved down his lover’s body, YN took her husband’s hand. It was a small moment of intimacy neither had allowed themselves before. Until tonight, a certain part of them remained duty. But now, there was no pretending.

Jacaerys lapped eagerly at her clit once he found his home between her thighs. She squirmed under his careful tongue, whimpering his name. Aemond felt desperate now, to make her replicate those sounds for him.

Jacaerys pulled away from her right before she came again. She was breathing heavy, eyes wide, as she looked down at him. Without breaking eye contact, he reached beside him and grabbed Aemond by his cock. Wordlessly, Aemond allowed himself to be lead, occasionally bucking his hips into Jacaerys’ hand. YN moaned at the sight.

With Aemond in position, his cock firmly pressed against her entrance, Jacaerys grabbed his uncle by the jaw and squeezed. Aemond instinctually opened his mouth. The brunette looked to his sister, who at this point was rubbing her own clit, before turning back to Aemond and spitting the mixture of his seed and YN’s release onto his waiting tongue. Just like a seasoned whore in Flea Bottom, Aemond swallowed eagerly.

“Tell her thank you for the gift she has bestowed in you,” Jacaerys whispered in Aemond’s ear. His hand moved to grasp his uncle’s cock, giving slow, lazy tugs. Between the heat of his wife’s pussy all but begging him to fuck her and the firmness of his nephew’s hold, it was almost painful to not begin to fuck her at a reckless pace.

“Th-thank you, for giving me a child,” Aemond stuttered out. Jacaerys began grinding against Aemond’s hip, his cock hardening with every passing moment.

“Apologize to her for not satisfying her enough,” the future king demanded. His eyes watched his sister’s fingers rubbing furiously against her clit, her body trembling. And then they traveled up her body. “Tell her what a goddess she is.”

“Such a goddess,” he whispered, looking down at her. “I am a fool for not worshipping every moment.”

“Mhmphh,” Jacaerys breathed out as he rutted against his uncle. “Slide your pretty cock into her and beg her to keep you. Beg our Queen to decide she wants to keep you when I marry her.”

As soon as Jacaerys’ hand fell away, Aemond buried himself to the hilt inside her pussy. But his hand was not unoccupied for long. He batted her hand away from her clit and replaced her fingers with his. He rubbed the sensitive nub in time with his thrusts against Aemond’s hip.

“Do not cast me aside,” Aemond begged her, his hips moving at breakneck speed as he pounded away at his wife’s pussy. “YN, my wife, please. Keep me by your side, fuck, fuck, and and I will worship you.”

“Slow yourself, match your thrusts to mine. Deeply,” Jacaerys whispered his ear. Aemond was quick to adjust his speed. He wanted to make both of them happy.

“Fuck,” YN whined out. Her thighs were trembling uncontrollably as once again she approached orgasm. “Want both of you. Want to be Queen. Want to be both yours,” she begged the two men. Her back arched as she screamed out, their names tumbling from her lips in a jumbled mess. Both men tried to maintain their movements as she rode out her eye.

Jacaerys came first, still sensitive from his first orgasm. His sticky spend painted Aemond’s pale hip before beginning to slide down the taut muscles and onto the mattress below. Aemond followed sooner after, his seed finding home deep inside his wife.

The three of them were breathing heavily. Jacaerys stepped back off the bed, finding a cloth so that he could wipe off Aemond’s hip. By the time the blonde prince had pulled out, his cock had softened. But neither man could avoid staring at her pussy as it leaked cum.

Aemond laid beside his wife, Jacaerys on the other. She giggled and pulled a sheet over their bodies.

“We shall wed in the Valyrian tradition, and our Uncle and I shall take turns fucking babe after babe into you,” Jacaerys whispered as he kissed her cheek.

“It is against the Faith, the law,” YN reminded her brother.

But Aemond saw the frown on her face and knew how much she wanted that future. And he wished for it too, wished for more nights in which the three of them could spend together. Something inside him shifted as he looked at the two of them. What was once a marriage to his dearest friend was now more. It was a chance at a happiness he would never have allowed himself.

“Lucky for us, we know the person responsible for the law,” he murmured as his hand rested on her stomach. “And I have it on good authority he wishes nothing more than to allow us this pleasure.”

She looked up at his face, her gaze soft. “Truly?” she whispered.

“Jacaerys is right. I have been a fool. A fool for not realizing the beauty that you are, the wonderful thing you are giving me,” he leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “And this was the happiest I have ever seen you.”

“It is the happiest you have ever been either, dear husband,” she pointed out. “I have never seen you so responsive.”

Jacaerys rested his own again against her stomach, his finger tips grazing Aemond’s. “I am glad to have seen it from the both of you.”

“Marry her. And we shall all be together as we were tonight,” Aemond murmured. Jacaerys chuckled. “What?”

“Oh next time, I’m fucking your ass while you fuck her,” he smirking. “Or maybe we should see if both our cocks could fit in her.”

“Oh, I think she’s definitely a good enough girl to let us try. Aren’t you, my wife?”

She nodded eagerly before leaning up to kiss him. He hummed against her lips for just a moment before she pulled away and kissed Jacaerys.

When she pulled away, both men moved as close as possible to her and held her.

“I love you, sweet sister.”

Taglist: @alexagirlie

#aemond targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #aemond targaryen x reader smut #jacaerys velaryon x reader smut #aemond x reader x jacaerys #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen smut #use of yn #reader insert

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w4w4lycsss · 4 months ago

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JAMES HOOK: DATING NATURE BOY HEADCANONS

summary: a list of headcanons that occurred to me while translating a request from Morgie pairing: James Hook x male!god of the spring!reader a/n: Maybe I'll make a standalone story out of this after Morgie's request

I hope you know the Hades x Persephone au, because you two are literally them

You're a child of nature who was raised by Demeter (Greek goddess of nature and crops, sister of Hades) so somehow you ended up at Merlin Academy

You have a sibling bond with Hades, you hung out with the VKs to be with him because you felt safe

Hook noticed you instantly and knew you were different

Your dark green hair pretending to be black, your skin too perfect to be a teenager, how you were always barefoot, your fascination with the outside world and how you seem to have a heart too kind to be related to Hades himself

He likes different

It was a real challenge to ask you out, Hades looked out for you at all times and gave him dirty looks when he got too close to you

He didn't give up

One day Hades and Maleficent went on a date, you were too bored with nothing to do

You started walking around the school yards aimlessly, not realizing that behind your steps you left a trail of small flowers

Hook noticed the trail that adorned almost the entire school until he found you sitting under a tree

It was a good opportunity for him

The sweet way you greeted him when he approached you stealthily melted his heart

You even wove him a flower crown while you told him about your day

If he stayed with you any longer he was going to die of love

He realized that you had a heart too sweet and a conscience too innocent for a pirate like him

Did he care? No, but now you knew how overprotective Demeter and Hades were of you

When it got dark and Hades and Maleficent came back from their date, you said goodbye to him and went to find them to give them a flower crown too

You even made one for Morgie and Uliana

It was a surprise that you got along with the ENTIRE VK group

One day Uliana wondered if you were a copy of Bridget, to which Hook and Hades (who knew you the most) couldn't help but laugh at how absurd that sounded

Hook came to your defense saying that while Bridget was naive with her kindness to everyone you knew who you should be with and who you shouldn't

He was right, Demeter hadn't raised a dumb child

Hades was becoming less paranoid about who you hung out with, even letting you and Hook spend entire afternoons without worrying

Every time you call him James and not Hook his heart will melt

I proclaim myself the creator of the headcanon Hook is obsessed with your thighs/legs (and has several fantasies about them) so don't doubt that he will put his hand on your thigh when you sit together in the dining room

At first you don't give it any importance because you think that his love language is physical contact and he is associated with that

The truth is that he does it when he notices that someone is looking at you too much

You two haven't even started dating yet!

He likes to run his hook over your thigh when you wear shorts in hot weather to see you laugh nervously

Hades gets angry when he does this

(He clearly doesn't care)

He made the first move, you were too shy to confess your love

He kissed you at your bedroom door when he walked you in one night

Now you two are boyfriends!

He treats you like a prince

(I'm obsessed with the idea of Hook dating a prince)

How did Hades take it? Oh, he went crazy 🥰

I mean, it's obvious that he suspected it when he caught Hook looking at you like a love-struck fool a bunch of times, but he didn't expect you two to become a couple!

Hook sometimes forgets that Hades and you are gods

(You are more like an entity of nature but you have the power of a god)

Demeter (who was like your mother) had a hard time accepting Hook as your partner because he was a pirate until she saw the way he treated you and then accepted him better

PICNIC DATES. PICNIC DATES. PICNIC DATES.

You give him flower crowns every day and keep each one of them

(They are magic flowers, they do not wither)

I just want you to imagine a pirate's room, dark and full of threatening things but when you pay attention to the headboard of his bed it's full of flowers

I have a headcanon that shares a room with Morgie

A dark room with green lights would always have the curtains closed

The more light comes in, the more threatening it looks

And the flower crowns in one corner, obviously

#james hook #james hook x reader #descendants rise of red #gn reader #male reader #captian hook #descendants x reader #hook x reader #descendants #fanfic

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lifewithdavefarts · 4 months ago

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DaveFarts - Episode 32 “A Worthy Opponent” [Episode List] Dave is back at the warehouse and filming another short “fart porn” clip for Greg. As he keeps blasting Tom, his co-worker and fart sniffer, a masked man steps into the set…

Greatly influenced by this suggestion.

Reminder: Tom was introduced in Episode 14.

POV: Dave

Alright, just like I did last time, it’s all good.

Getting paid to fart in someone’s face? Easiest money I’ll ever make in my life.

My friend Greg, the wannabe movie director, wanted me for another fart porn film.

Yes, that’s an actual thing, this is my life now… a small part of it at least.

You know me, I’m a chill dude, though before accepting such task some months ago I wanted to make sure there were some lines that we shouldn’t cross. To be honest, however, the more I worked with Greg, the more I got used to all of this gross kinky stuff.

I mean, that sounds hypocrite, I’m aware: I’m an incredibly skilled straight farter who continuously face-farts his friend and roommate, fully knowing the he has a fart fetish, and even before that I’ve always been a proud farter, and rightfully so.

Also, I spend too much time on the Internet, so I’m well-versed in gross stuff.

With Tim, however, it’s different.

Here there are cameras, people telling me how I need to fart (seriously!), people I barely know but, truth to be told, who gives a shit? It’s just business, a business that revolves about farting, so you could say that my ass shits gold, almost literally.

Plus, I already got a Tim in my fart-victim collection: a Tom always sounded like the next logical step, the next Infinity Sniffer. You can starting calling me Thanus at this point.

So here I am, back at the warehouse, in this fake living room, wearing a pair of shabby grey sweatpants, cautiously sitting on Tom’s face.

Tom, my co-worker and professional fart sniffer.

He was lying on this couch in the middle of the set, face up, his nose perfectly aligned with my asscheeks already.

He didn’t say a word or move a muscle: this guy is a pro for real. I still don’t know if he actually has a fart kink or not. What I do know is that I did blast him even when we weren’t working once.

What can I say? My farts are too good to be wasted!

As of now, I sat on him and adjusted my position, spreading my legs wide, to ease the next fart out and, according to the script, “to showoff my manly bulge”. Thanks, I guess?

I lean just a bit and I effortlessly rip the first fart of the session, a natural blast I’ve been brewing for a couple of minutes. The warm gas passed through the fabric of my sweatpants and soon Tom’s face was imbued with my poisonous flatulence.

“Fuck yeah.” I said, as the loud blast kept going. “Don’t choke on that you fag.”

Hey, I didn’t write the script!

I could feel and hear Tom taking deep whiffs of that fart. I wiggled my ass in response, an improv which he seemed to enjoy, both professionally and… kinkly?

This blast lasted around 6 seconds. A good one don’t get me wrong… but you know what I’m truly capable of…

I noticed Greg from behind the camera giving me a thumbs up, mouthing my next line.

“Alright you filthy slave, you better open up.”

Tom obeyed. I leaned once again and spread my legs even wider, my anus aligning with my co-worker’s mouth.

Another home-run, another loud fart, I didn’t even need to push that much. I’m ridiculously good at this, I swear. It feels stupid to brag about farting skills but trust me, as soon as I finish ripping one of my huge farts, my body is already brewing the next one. I got a quick reload.

Tom’s face was shaking and this time, for real, he almost choked on my gas, as I felt him move. And when even Tom, who’s usually stone-cold while working, flinches, I know I did a good job.

I saw Greg talking to his assistant: he seemed angry. In that moment, behind me, the fake door of the fake living room opened without warning. Was this an unscripted moment?

I stopped farting and turned around, kind of forgetting that I was sitting on Tom’s face.

Someone stepped into the set, another man, around my age, tall and skinny. I couldn’t see his face as he was wearing some kind of black ski mask. His clothes were as casual as mine (a red t-shirt and a pair of blue skinny jeans).

He didn’t look friendly, yet the moment he saw me, he kind of froze on the spot for a few moments.

Is Greg making a farter-slasher movie all of the sudden? Not that I’d complain! Sounds camp-y enough to me.

I gave an inquisitive look to my director-friend, who promptly stopped filming.

“C-cut!” he yelled. “Alright, we got our first farts.” he said, as he walked towards me. “N-now, make room for the other farter of this session.”

I gave him a puzzled look. “Other farter?”

“Duh!” Greg replied, as he pulled me out of the set, impatiently. “You thought you were the only person capable of ripping ass?”

Honestly, kind of?

I mean, I don’t think about farts 24/7, but I do know that I’m pretty good at it. Ask Tim.

“Are you replacing me?” I bluntly asked.

Not gonna have a fight over… farting, that’s for sure. And I’m not even mad, I was just taking those extra bucks for granted.

“Don’t be jealous.” he replied, as he let me sit next to him, next to the director himself, as if I was one of the crew.

I watched as this masked guy stepped on the couch and squatted over Tom’s head, just as the poor guy was getting used to fresh air again. I guess this is his lucky day, assuming that he does have the kink.

“Action!” I almost went deaf when Greg screamed that.

The masked guy was basically another master and he acted accordingly.

“Here you go, fag. Got something for you to taste…”

The fart that followed was very loud and echoed in the whole warehouse. On one hand, when I’m not the one torturing a poor soul with farts, yeah, it’s pretty gross. On the other, as a man, I gotta tip my imaginary hat to a fellow talented farter. The blast was nowhere as long as mine, but holy shit.

This other “master” was way more dominant than I was, way more natural I’d say.

“If you wanted a master, you could just ask…” I whispered into Greg's ear, sounding way more flirty than I intended to be, which almost made me laugh.

“You can’t be a master like him.” he firmly replied. “You’re too nice.”

Should I be offended? I really don’t know anything anymore at this point.

“Fire in the hole!” the masked master yelled, just as he ripped another loud fart down Tom’s throat.

I admit this guy’s voice sounded quite familiar, despite his best effort at trying to sound much deeper.

“Do we know this guy?” I asked Greg. The question almost startled him.

“Uhm. No idea.”

Ok, liar ahead. Clearly we know this guy then.

I will get to the bottom of this… after I put this masked guy to his place.

POV: Tom

Fuck.

Dave’s farts were already impressive, but this masked guy’s blasts are really hard to endure, really pushing the limits of my kink. Those farts sound utterly gross, almost wet, and they smell horribly. I like working with Dave because, among other things, his roaring ass is loud but when it comes to stench, I can easily inhale those.

This guy… I have no idea who he is, Greg refused to introduce us for some reason, but I decided to trust him: I think I made a mistake. The rough surface of his skinny jeans is almost scraping my face.

Another fart erupted right into my nostrils, renewing the already terrible stench. It smells like… spoiled milk? I don’t know, it’s nauseating, I feel like I’m drowning in a sewer. I’m always very calm and composed when I’m… working, but I wasn’t ready for this I admit it.

“You’re such a bitch, I knew you couldn’t handle it.” the man said, ripping another loud, short rip.

If this guy doesn’t get up soon, I’m probably gonna choke in my own puke.

“Alright, that’s enough, get the fuck out of here.”

I heard Dave say, walking towards us, and I was relieved.

The masked man got up, my eyes adjusting to the spotlight shining over the set. I took a deep breathe of (relatively) fresh air, but anything was better than that.

I managed to recognize Dave’s silhouette, towering over me.

“That was cute. Now let me show how a pro does it.”

Great. I’m basically the city you see in the background of kaijū movies while the monsters fight each other. You know the city, right? The city that usually gets completely leveled by the huge creatures?

I guess that’s my role for today.

Let’s get it over with.

As I said, Dave’s farts are huge but I’d take anything over that other guy’s gas.

I quickly took more deep breaths… before letting Dave sit on me again.

POV: Dave

“That was cute. Now let me show how a pro does it.”

I don’t know who this guy is, but if he really wants to do this, a fuckin’ fart challenge, then he’s gonna get blown away.

Well, not him, rather, my good pal right here on the couch.

“Alright…” I whispered to Tom. “Get ready bro. I’m gonna rip some huge ones and act like an asshole for a bit.”

I earned a puzzled look from him. “An asshole?” he paused for a moment. “But… you’re too nice.”

Oh great, now the sub tells me how lovey-dovey I am, perfect!

I stepped on the couch, not caring how my feet was crushing Tom’s chest, and squatted over his face, my fabric-clad anus tickling the tip of his nose. As I said, I’m always brewing a big one, and having a quick cheeseburger before coming here surely helped.

Once again, effortlessly, my ass started roaring, loud and unstoppable. As I kept pushing this one out, I maintained eye-contact with the mysterious masked challenger, who could only watch haplessly as I showed him what real talent looks like.

“Open wide, fag. This is far from over.”

Tom took it like a champ, inhaling deeply for the camera -I don’t even know if we started filming again.

All I know is that my farting skills are a sight to behold… and to sniff, in Tom and Tim’s case at least.

Ahah… I’ll never understand this gross kink, but I gotta admit, if I had this fetish, and my best bro and roommate was, well, me, I’d probably be as thirsty as Tim is. So yeah, in a disgusting way… I get it.

And just like that, 12 seconds passed. Long, but not as long as my best ones, I can do even better than this… but I play fair so, after brushing my sweaty sweatpants ass on Tom’s face, I stood up and crossed my arms, eyes glued on my rival.

“Your move, beanpole.”

It’s ridiculous how seriously I’m taking all of this, but I can get quite competitive.

The masked master laughed and… lied on the floor. He held one leg up… that’s a position I’m quite familiar with. Surprisingly enough, he started sucking air in, right through his jeans. That’s a great talent I gotta say, I thought I was the only one who could fart on command so easily.

A worthy opponent, at long last!

After a few seconds, the man stood up, proud and tall and, just like I did earlier, treated Tom as if he was part of the couch, and sat on his face. His eyes glued on me, I could tell there was a smug mile making fun of me under that ski mask.

The fart that followed was quite impressive and loud, but still not as massive as the ones I’m able to produce. This guy was good, no doubts about it. I’m pretty sure Tim would fall in love with him (the thought of that made me visibly laugh, putting a dent in the menacing aura I was trying to convey).

You know what, fuck this. It’s not worth it.

But since I’m already here, and I’m able to rip huge farts both naturally and on command, I guess I could simply… well… join the fun, you might say.

I’m sure Tom will understand.

POV: Tom

The masked guy’s fart, despite being on command, was as foul as the one before. Dave’s blasts weren’t a cakewalk by any means, and they’re still much louder, deeper and stronger overall, but whatever this guy ate was doing numbers in his stomach. He was wearing a pair of skinny jeans but he could very well be naked for how much my nostrils were burning.

The stench of Dave’s previous farts mixed with the rotten eggs-flavored gas this guy’s anus was blowing in my face and, truly, I started to think that this was a big test that Greg set up just for me, for some insane reason. If I survive this, I’m gonna kick his ass.

After around 9 seconds, the flatulence’s loudness faded out, essentially turning into a classic silent-but-deadly.

The man raised his ass just a bit, to make sure I could breath a bit of fresh air before the next one.

I turned my head and I could see Dave approaching the couch again.

Okay, it’s the other kaijū’s turn I assume.

Funnily enough, this is actually good ne-

...

Wait.

Why isn’t the other guy stepping aside?

“If it’s a show you want, Greg, a show you’ll get.” Dave boasted.

The farter above me finally moved, but just a bit, his ass still covering half of my face, hovering over my mouth.

The reason he moved, however, wasn’t altruistic by any means: instead, he had to make room for Dave’s ass, which ended up being planted directly onto my eyes instead.

Just... just fuckin’ do it you gassy bastards.

“Hey fag, it’s your lucky day.” the masked guy said.

“Good thing you have two nostrils: one of each anus.” Dave said.

Whether they were improvising or not wasn’t important, because their asses certainly weren’t.

Dave’s ass started speaking first, erupting his deep warm gas into my eyes. Mere seconds later, the other ass started talking as well, its fart being more high pitched. The sounds mixed together like a symphony and after a few moments I couldn’t tell which anus was being louder, ‘cause they both were.

I became part of the couch as those two asses kept crushing me, farting loudly. My face couldn’t endure that barrage of farts any longer, as the farters kept cycling between either loud series of farts, or single long ones. The stench... I felt like they were taking a shit on me, I could taste that thick gas and even guess what they ate for lunch.

It was getting hot, too hot, and I started breathing more heavily, which only meant I got to ingest more of that poisonous gas.

And yet, my massive boner betrayed my disgust.

While my eardrums were getting crushed by those farts, I could still manage to recognize Dave’s fart being the loudest: the man found a worthy opponent, sure, but he still owns the crown, no doubts about it.

“And for the big finale…” I heard the King say.

Dave lowered his sweatpants, exposing his sweaty bare ass (the masked farter kept his jeans on instead), and ripped a short, yet very loud toot, drops of sweat being blown onto my face and teary eyes (for the smell).

The two remained there for a few seconds, finally in silence from both ends, letting me inhale those last particles of gas, even though I’m pretty sure my skin merged with their farts on sub-atomic level, then they finally got up and shared a high-five.

Much to my surprise, the two men then turned back to me and helped me sit down, and they both high-fived me as well.

I guess a fart master is nothing without someone willing to sniff it all.

I appreciate the respect.

The mutual respect.

POV: Dave

After taking a much-needed shower and putting my civilian clothes back on (my usual dark brown hoodie and a pair of loose jeans), I cleared things up with Greg.

He admitted he messed up things up with the schedule, and that indeed there was another “master” audition today, but he really enjoyed our improv and filmed everything, and thus the editors are pretty satisfied with what we managed to film today.

He also told me that, indeed, the mysterious farter is “a common friend” who didn’t want to be recognized.

No hard feelings with Tom either, obviously.

Now, time to tie up one last loose end.

I went outside, on the back of the warehouse, where I knew I could find my masked rival. He was checking his phone sitting on a shabby couch, an old prop that the crew moved here after they bought a new one for the set.

Basically, glorified comfy garbage.

“Hey, fire-in-the-hole-guy! I knew I’d find you here… that’s there they put the trash after all.” I said, with a smug smile.

The man shook his head and laughed. “Greg told you?” he asked.

I walked towards the couch and sat next to him, wrapping my right arm around his shoulder.

“You thought I woudn’t recognize your beautiful eyes, Adam?” I joked, acting all flirty (and hopefully annoying).

He punched my shoulder and took his mask off.

Indeed, it was Adam all along.

He laughed a bit more.

“I didn’t know you were working with Greg.” he said. “Finally, you can make money from the one thing you're good at!"

“Very good at.” I corrected him.

I was going to fart to prove my point, but Adam seemed worried about something.

“I kind of needed those extra bucks you know...”

“Why is everything gravitating towards farts lately…” I thought out loud.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing, forget about it.” I quickly said. “Extra bucks you said?”

“Yeah, as gross as it sounds, I thought I could make some quick money out of… whatever Greg’s doing here.”

“Hey, not judging bro!” I reassured him. “I mean, I’ve been doing this for a couple of months.”

“Does Dana know?” he asked.

“Nah, I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Tim, he’d probably be jeal-“

I bit my tongue just in time, even though I didn’t really think he’d get jealous. I was just trying to make a joke I swear!

“Jealous?” my friend inquired. “Jealous of what?”

“…Uhh… jealous of my success, obviously!”

Adam didn’t seem too interested in the conversation anyway, luckily enough, so he didn’t find anything suspicious about my not-so-harmless joke about my roommate.

“That’s envy, not jealousy, you idiot.” he observed.

Never mind.

A few dozens of seconds of silence followed. Adam wasn’t exactly a talkative guy, and he does have a job and all, but if he needs extra bucks, maybe I could help.

“I’m sure we can arrange something with Greg.” I stated.

“Mh?”

“Yeah, you can fart on Tom on Tuesdays, while I can do it on Wednesdays.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“I can’t believe we’re talking about this.” Adam admitted.

“Yeah.” I patted his shoulder. “From great farts, come great responsibility.”

We remained there, on that smelly (not because of us) couch, for a few more minutes, as if all that fart-talk was the most mundane thing in the world.

“Doing something tonight?” Adam asked.

“Dana and Tim are out of town, so probably nothing. You?”

“There’s a good pub a few blocks from here. Care for a beer?”

“Always.” I simply said, as we both stood up, and started marching towards our new destination.

“Easy bro.” Adam said. “I’m not gonna drag your drunk ass back home.”

“I can handle way more beer than you, pal!” I said.

“Yeah, in your dreams maybe.” he replied.

“Alright. Ready to lose against me for the second time today?” I threatened him.

“Lose?” he scoffed. “It was literally just far-“

I cut him off by ripping a huge, natural blast, staring at him with a smug grin. The fart easily echoed in the alley and I’m pretty sure they heard it downtown. It was short and sweet, you might say.

4 loud, proud seconds.

“I’m sorry.” I said. “You were saying?”

Adam laughed in response. “Fine, you won whatever that was back in the warehouse.” he admitted. “But I’m still not gonna drag your sorry drunk ass back home later.”

You know me, I’m a chill guy, but if you tease me, I can get very competitive.

I again wrapped my arm around his shoulder: “If it’s a show you want, Adam, a show you’ll get.”

Nah… maybe I’m too nice.

The End

#eproctophilia #fart kink #fart story #malefarts #davefarts

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movingmusically · 2 months ago

Text

Caught Feeling - Chapter 1, part 1

Summary: A reserved woman, craving something different, enters a bar and meets Hank, a confident bartender. As their connection deepens, she steps out of her usual quiet self, embracing a night that changes everything.

Note: This is the first writing I’ve ever posted, but after seeing the set pictures yesterday I had to get something down.

The truth is, I don’t really know what possessed me to walk into Paul’s tonight. I’m not the kind of person who normally does things like this—spontaneous, bold, risky. That’s never been me. Or at least, it hasn’t been me in a long time.

There was a time when I was more comfortable in my own skin, when my shyness didn’t feel like a weight. It used to be a part of me, something I accepted, something I lived with rather than fought against. I could be quiet and still feel confident, blending into the background but never doubting my worth. But somewhere along the way, that shifted. The quiet I once enjoyed now feels stifling. I’m constantly second-guessing myself, overthinking every little action, every word I say, as if there’s some invisible audience keeping score.

The world feels too loud, too fast, and I feel too small in it.

Lately, the silence of my own company has become less of a comfort and more of a reminder. A reminder that I’m stuck. That life is moving forward, and I’m standing still, watching everyone else go on without me. I can’t even remember the last time I did something that made me feel...alive. Not just existing from one day to the next but really feeling like I’m part of something—part of the world instead of just a spectator.

Tonight, it feels like I’ve reached some invisible limit. I can’t take another evening of staring at the same four walls, of flicking through channels without really watching, of pretending I’m okay with the monotony. Work drained me, as it always does, leaving me too exhausted to think but somehow too restless to sleep. My mind feels like it’s stuck in a loop, clogged with the same old worries that circle endlessly, without resolution. They’re small things—most of them, at least—but they pile up, weighing me down until I can barely breathe under their collective pressure.

Normally, I’d push through it, fall back into my routine because that’s what I do. I know the safe route; I’ve perfected it over time. But tonight, the routine felt unbearable. The thought of going home, of slipping back into the same old patterns—it made my chest tighten with the kind of dread I couldn’t ignore. It wasn’t that I had a plan, not really. I just knew I couldn’t face another night of nothingness.

So instead of walking home like I always do, I took a different path, literally. One foot in front of the other, the sidewalk unfamiliar beneath me as I moved further away from everything that felt safe and known. It wasn’t intentional, not at first. But the farther I walked, the more it felt like I was being pulled—by something I couldn’t name, some need inside me that I’ve been trying to ignore for too long.

And that’s how I ended up here, standing in front of Paul’s, the bar I’ve passed countless times but never once considered entering. It’s not my kind of place. Never has been. It’s gritty, loud, with an edge that feels too rough for someone like me. The kind of bar where everyone seems to know each other, where conversations are shared over sticky countertops and half-drunk glasses of whiskey. The regulars here probably have stories they’ve told a hundred times, stories about the kind of life I don’t live—the kind of life I always thought I didn’t want.

But maybe tonight, I don’t want to be the kind of person who always plays it safe, who blends into the background without ever leaving a mark. Maybe tonight, I need to be someone else. Someone who isn’t so afraid to take up space. Someone who doesn’t spend hours dissecting every interaction, every conversation, until the memory of it feels more like a mistake than a moment.

I step inside, and immediately, the atmosphere hits me like a wave. The smell of cigarette smoke clings to the air, mixing with the sharp scent of alcohol and something else I can’t quite place. It’s dimly lit, the kind of place where shadows linger in the corners, and the faces blur together unless you’re really looking. There’s a hum of conversation, the low murmur of voices blending with the occasional burst of laughter, creating a background noise that fills the space without overpowering it.

I don’t know why, but the second I cross the threshold, I feel the weight of the room shift. Not in any obvious way. It’s not like anyone stops what they’re doing to look at me—most people are too engrossed in their own lives, their own stories. But I feel it. I feel different, like I’ve stepped out of my usual world and into something unfamiliar, something that makes my nerves buzz just beneath the surface of my skin.

For a brief moment, I want to turn around, to leave before anyone even notices I’m here. That familiar urge to retreat, to go back to what I know, bubbles up inside me, threatening to overwhelm the tentative boldness that brought me here in the first place. But I don’t leave. I take a deep breath, hold it for a moment, and then force myself to stay. To move further into the bar, even though every part of me is screaming to turn back.

I make my way toward the bar, my steps feeling both too loud and too quiet at the same time. My eyes flick around, taking in the crowd, but not really seeing anyone. I feel exposed, out of place, but at the same time, there’s a strange comfort in knowing that no one is really paying attention to me. I can be invisible here if I want to be—and that’s fine. I’m not here to be noticed. I don’t need anyone to see me.

I just need a break—from my own head, from the endless loop of thoughts and worries that seem to follow me wherever I go. I don’t know what I’m hoping to find here, or if I’m even looking for anything at all. All I know is that tonight, I couldn’t go home. I needed to be somewhere different, somewhere unfamiliar, somewhere that wasn’t the same quiet, predictable space where my thoughts would close in on me again.

That’s when I see him.

He was positioned behind the bar, leaning casually against the counter with an ease that suggested he was in his element, practically part of the furniture. His blonde hair, tousled and slightly unkempt, peeked out from under a well-worn baseball cap, pulled down just enough to give him a hint of mystery, shadowing his piercing blue eyes. Those eyes caught mine with an intensity that felt almost tangible, sharp and probing, as if he could peel back the layers of anyone who happened to fall under his gaze.

For a brief moment, the thought of diverting my eyes flitted through my mind, a reflex to escape the unexpected vulnerability I felt under his scrutiny. But I didn’t look away. Instead, our eyes locked, and a slow, knowing smile spread across his face—a smile that seemed to see right through to the nerves I was trying so hard to mask. He held my gaze for a beat too long, creating a moment charged with an unspoken challenge before he turned his attention back to the drinks he was pouring.

A stir of something unfamiliar fluttered inside me—a cocktail of nerves, curiosity, and an exhilarating sense of daring. This wasn't typically me; I was not one to flirt openly, especially with bartenders, nor to sit alone boldly in such a buzzing place. But tonight was different. Tonight, I felt drawn to the unknown, compelled to explore whatever this could lead to.

As I approached the bar, each step seemed amplified, my awareness heightened as if every movement was a statement of intent. I slid onto a stool, feeling the coolness of the leather through my jeans, and my presence seemed to draw his attention once more. The bottles behind him caught the soft lighting of the bar, casting a kaleidoscope of colours across the polished surface. The room was steeped in the smells of smoke and aged wood, enriched with a hint of something musky, almost intoxicating.

He glanced up as I settled in, his earlier smile returning, expectant, as if he had anticipated the challenge I was about to present.

“What’ll it be?” he asked, his voice a rough blend of warmth and rasp, perfectly echoing the raw, ambient energy of the bar.

Under normal circumstances, I’d have a standard order ready, something simple and unassuming, designed to blend in rather than stand out. But tonight, driven by a newfound audacity, I hesitated, meeting his gaze squarely. “Whatever you recommend,” I ventured, my voice more steady than I felt.

His eyebrow arched, clearly amused by my response, and his smirk widened, adding a playful edge to his already compelling demeanour. “You trust me to pick for you?”

I nodded, the gesture firm despite the fluttering in my stomach. “Yeah. Surprise me.”

He chuckled, a low sound that seemed to resonate with a hint of respect, or perhaps challenge. Shaking his head as if in disbelief at my daring, he reached for a bottle. “Alright, you asked for it.”

Watching him work was like observing a skilled artist; each movement was fluid and assured. He selected ingredients with precision, mixing them with a practiced hand that spoke of years behind the bar. As he prepared the drink, I found myself stealing glances, drawn to the confident way he navigated his domain.

He slid the drink across the bar with a smooth motion, and when his fingers brushed mine, a spark of electricity zipped through me, startling and vivid.

“Here you go,” he said, his tone light, that easy grin playing on his lips again. “Let me know what you think.”

I took a tentative sip, and the drink was a revelation—smooth with an undercurrent of complexity that mirrored the night itself. It warmed me, loosening the edges of my anxiety, coaxing a sense of openness I hadn’t felt upon walking in.

“Not bad,” I replied, my own smile a reflection of his, a silent acknowledgment of the small adventure I had embarked upon.

His eyes studied me, a flicker of intrigue passing through them. “Good to know,” he said, his voice tinged with a subtle warmth. He momentarily excused himself to attend to another customer, his movements efficient and practiced as he refilled a drink without missing a beat.

As he worked, the familiar atmosphere of the bar wrapped around us—a comfortable hum of background chatter mingled with the clink of glasses and the occasional cheer from patrons watching the baseball game on the television above. Adjusting his cap, he made his way back to where I was sitting, his approach marked by an easy, confident smile that seemed to pull the dim light of the bar towards him.

Normally, I’d be tongue-tied, fumbling for words, but here, with him, it felt different.

“So, you come here often?” I asked, aiming for light-hearted but cringing a bit at the cliché.

He chuckled, a light, engaging sound that drew a grin from me. “I guess you could say that. I work here most nights. Name’s Hank, by the way,” he introduced himself, extending a hand across the bar.

Hank. It suited him perfectly—strong, straightforward, with just the right amount of rugged charm.

“I’m—” I began, ready to offer my own name, but just then, a regular at the end of the bar caught Hank’s attention, loudly requesting help with the jukebox that was stubbornly refusing to accept their money. Hank shot me a quick, conspiratorial smile that promised he’d return, and then he was off, his stride confident as he navigated the crowded space.

I watched him as he worked, noting the way his shoulders rolled with each movement, the casual confidence in his stride. There was something undeniably magnetic about him, something that drew the eye and held it. It wasn’t just his looks—though those certainly didn’t hurt—it was the way he seemed so completely at ease in his environment, as if he were as much a fixture of the bar as the shelves of liquor behind him.

As he adjusted the jukebox, his eyes occasionally flicked to the small television mounted above the bar. The San Francisco Giants were playing, and it was clear from his intermittent nods and muttered comments to another patron that he was following the game.

When he returned, the noise level in the bar had dropped a bit, and he leaned in slightly to resume our conversation. “Big Giants fan?” I asked, gesturing towards his hat and the screen above us.

"Definitely," Hank said, his smile broadening. "I played a ton in high school back in California, but a bad leg break sidelined me for good. Now, I never miss a game, it helps keep the spirit alive."

“From baseball player to master mixologist,” I observed, noting the transition from his past interests to his current profession. “Looks like you’ve got it all figured out.”

He let out a soft chuckle, a hint of irony flickering in his eyes. “Something like that,” he replied with a slight shrug. “Though life always has a few surprises up its sleeve, doesn’t it?”

As the evening unfolded, the bar had thinned out, not nearly as busy as when I first arrived, but still lively enough to keep Hank moving between customers. Between sharing a laugh, or tossing a rag over his shoulder with casual grace, his eyes would inevitably return, as though drawn by some unspoken pull. Each time he approached, it felt like we were continuing a conversation that had never really stopped, even if words weren’t always exchanged. It was more about his presence—the way he leaned in slightly, his focus making it seem like nothing else in the room mattered.

The warmth of the alcohol settled into me, quieting my usual reservations. It wasn’t enough to cloud my thoughts—I was still fully aware—but it gave me a newfound confidence. With each passing moment, the initial unease melted away, replaced by a comfortable rhythm between us.

“So, what brings you to Paul’s tonight? You don’t exactly blend in with the usual crowd here,” Hank inquired after a while, his tone casual but curious, his eyes searching mine for something deeper than the surface-level chit-chat.

I hesitated, the question more profound than I had anticipated sharing with a near-stranger. Yet, something about Hank’s straightforwardness, underscored by the honest curiosity in his eyes, made me want to open up.

I shrugged, glancing around. “Just needed a change of scenery, I guess. This isn’t exactly my usual kind of place.”

He chuckled, leaning against the bar, his blue eyes flicking up to the TV screen for a moment where the end credits of the game were rolling. “Yeah, I kind of figured. You’ve got that look—like you’re used to being somewhere else.”

“Somewhere else like… where?” I asked, curious what he saw in me.

He paused, his gaze momentarily drifting off as if visualising the answer, then locked back onto me with a reflective expression. “I dunno. A café, maybe? Somewhere quiet. You strike me as someone who appreciates peace.”

I smiled, touched by his perceptiveness. “You’re not wrong. I’m definitely more of a coffee shop girl than a bar regular.”

Hank’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of curiosity and amusement as he leaned in a bit, resting his chin on his hand, studying me as if he was putting together a puzzle. “Let me guess,” he started, his voice lowering to a warm, playful tone, “you’ve got that favourite little corner spot, don’t you? Always tucked away with a book or maybe a notebook for doodling or jotting down your thoughts. And I bet you drink your coffee black, no distractions—just you and your thoughts.”

The accuracy of his assumptions made me burst into laughter, more open and genuine than I expected in such a setting. “Okay, you’re close,” I conceded, still chuckling. “But, I do take a little sugar with my coffee—just a touch to sweeten the deal.”

His laughter joined mine, creating a light, easy atmosphere that seemed to set the tone for whatever was to come. “Noted,” he said, with a mock-serious nod. “I’ll remember that for next time.”

The lighthearted moment briefly subsided as he posed a more thoughtful question, his tone lowering to a gentle, inviting rumble. “So, what’s got you stepping out of your coffee shop comfort zone tonight?”

Glancing down at my glass, the swirl of liquid momentarily mesmerising, I acknowledged the underlying current of vulnerability. Yet, there was an ease in Hank’s presence that coaxed the words from me more freely than I expected. “I don’t know... I just didn’t want to be alone tonight. Work’s been overwhelming, I guess I just needed a break from myself for a while. From the routine, the quiet. You ever feel that way?”

Hank’s response was a nod, his eyes softening with a deep understanding. “Yeah, more than you’d think.” Curiosity piqued, I found myself more drawn to him, seeing him not only in his role here but as someone who genuinely understood the struggles people go through. “What about you? You seem like the kind of guy who’s seen it all here. What keeps you coming back?”

“The people, I guess,” he said thoughtfully, his eyes meeting mine again. “Everyone who walks in has their own story, their own reason for being here. I like that—it’s unpredictable. I can be part of the background or something more, depending on the night. Tonight feels different, though.”

“Different how?” I asked, my voice quieter now, the conversation shifting as his attention became more focused.

“Maybe it’s you,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze serious. “You stand out. You’re not trying to blend in, like most people who come in here to disappear for a bit.”

I felt a shiver run through me, even though his words were light. “I wasn’t really planning on standing out,” I admitted, my voice softer now, a little shy.

He folded his arms on the bar, leaning in just a touch closer. The subtle intimacy of the gesture didn’t go unnoticed. “Well, I’m glad you did.”

I felt my cheeks warm, surprised at how much I liked hearing that. “Yeah… me too,” I said, smiling just enough to let him know I meant it.

He smiled back, his voice dropping lower. “Sometimes, stepping into something unfamiliar is exactly what we need to remind ourselves what we’ve been missing.”

There was a brief pause, comfortable yet charged with an unspoken acknowledgment of the connection forming between us. “And what do you think I’ve been missing?”

He leaned in, closing the space between us. “Maybe something real. Something that pulls you out of the everyday.”

I held his gaze, my heart racing a little faster now. “Maybe I am.”

“Well,” he said, his voice barely a whisper, “you’re not alone in that.”

The air between us thickened, charged with an undeniable pull. Even in the quiet, there was no mistaking the connection forming between us—raw, real, and electric.

The last patrons trickled out, and the bar lights dimmed slightly, signalling the end of the night. The soft glow cast shadows that only made the space feel more intimate. A slow, soulful tune from the jukebox filled the room, amplifying the closeness between us.

Hank leaned in a little more, his hands idly wiping down the already spotless counter, though his attention was fully on me. The air around us felt thick with unspoken anticipation, a magnetic pull that neither of us could ignore.

"You’ve definitely changed the vibe in here tonight," Hank murmured, his voice a low, warm rumble that seemed to match the mood of the room. “Doesn’t happen often.”

I felt a flush of heat rise to my cheeks but found myself leaning in too, letting the moment take over. "Is that your way of saying you hope I come back?" I asked, my tone playful, though beneath it, there was something bolder, something daring.

A slow smile spread across his face, one that made my pulse quicken. “I’m definitely saying that. You’ve made tonight... different. And I like it.”

The room felt smaller, as though it was just the two of us, the rest of the world fading into the background. Our eyes locked, the tension between us humming with an intensity that felt almost tangible. Neither of us moved to break it.

Hank leaned a little closer. There was a question forming on his lips, one that seemed to dance in his eyes as he paused, giving the moment the weight it deserved.

His gaze flicked to the back door, then back to me, and I could see the question in his eyes before he said it. “You wanna get out of here?” His voice was low, the words hanging in the air between us like a challenge.

The invitation was clear, laden with possibilities and the thrill of continuing whatever was unfolding between us outside the confines of the bar walls. I blinked, my heart skipping a beat. Normally, I would hesitate, tangled in self-doubt and over-analysis. But tonight felt different. It felt like a return to an older version of myself—I took a deep breath, embracing the liberating shift, and met Hank's gaze with a quiet nod.

"Yeah," I said softly, "I do."

Hank nodded, a knowing smile spreading across his face as he moved towards the employees-only door at the far end of the bar. He gestured for me to come closer to where the bar ended, and I walked towards him, my heart pounding in my ears.

As I reached the end of the bar, I found myself separated from him by a pane of glass that partitioned off the employees’ area. Above Hank, the neon “BAR” sign bathed him in an ethereal glow, casting dramatic shadows across his features, highlighting the contours of his jaw, the intensity in his eyes, and the gentle curve of his full lips. He reached up to unlock the door from his side, his eyes locked on mine.

Our hands met through the glass, fingertips aligning in a moment charged with anticipation. The cool surface couldn’t lessen the warmth that radiated from his touch. With a soft click, he swung the door open, diminishing the barrier between us.

“After you,” he said, his voice low and inviting. I moved around the partition, stepping into his world behind the bar for the first time. There was an intimate thrill to being on his side, close enough to share his space.

Together, we walked towards the back of the bar, where a heavy door led to the alley outside. As Hank pushed it open the cool night air hit my skin, but it did little to cool the fire that had been burning between us all night. The alley behind the bar was dimly lit, shadows stretching across the walls, but I barely noticed. All I could focus on was him—the way his broad shoulders moved, the way his hands flexed at his sides as if he was holding himself back.

We stopped just outside the door, and before I had time to second-guess myself, he turned to me, stepping in close. The space between us disappeared in an instant, and I felt his hand at my waist, pulling me gently but firmly against him. My breath caught in my throat, and for a split second, all I could do was look up into those mesmerising blue eyes, my heart pounding in my chest.

Then he kissed me.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. His lips crashed against mine, urgent and hungry, like he’d been waiting all night for this moment. His hands gripped my waist, pulling me closer as his mouth moved against mine, and I kissed him back just as fiercely, my fingers instinctively finding their way to the base of his skull. His hair was soft, curling around my fingers as I tangled my hands in it, pulling him closer.

He let out a low, guttural sound, the kind of sound that sent shivers down my spine and made my knees weak. His hands slid up my back, his fingers digging into my skin as he pressed me against the brick wall behind us. The roughness of the wall was a stark contrast to the heat of his body, and I arched into him, wanting—needing—to be closer.

As he kissed me deeper, the sensation was overwhelming—like a storm that obliterates everything else, leaving only a beautiful, blissful blankness in its wake. It blew my mind how everything inside me cast into darkness, every worry dissolving in the heat of his touch. What a relief it was, not having to think anymore.

My hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him down harder as his lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along my jawline.

This wasn’t me. This wasn’t the shy, quiet girl who kept to herself, who avoided risks. But right now, with Hank’s body pressed against mine, his lips on my skin, I didn’t care. All I cared about was him, the way he made me feel—alive, bold, free.

And I wasn’t about to stop.

His breath was hot against my skin as his lips moved lower, trailing down my neck, and I could feel every nerve in my body igniting. I tugged at his hair again, just enough to pull him back to my mouth, and when our lips met, the kiss was even more intense—desperate, as if we both knew this moment was everything we had been building up to all night.

I could feel his body press harder against mine, his hands roaming over my waist, my hips, pulling me even closer as though the small space between us was unbearable. My back hit the rough surface of the brick wall again, but the discomfort only heightened the sensation. The world outside the alley faded away—there were no more sounds from the bar, no distant cars, just the pounding of our hearts and the shared heat between us.

When he finally pulled back, his breathing was ragged, and he rested his forehead against mine, his blue eyes searching my face in the dim light. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

I swallowed, my breath still catching in my throat. “I think I do,” I whispered back, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I thought I had you all figured out, but… you keep surprising me.”

“I’m surprising myself,” I admitted, my fingers still tangled in his hair, feeling the warmth of his scalp beneath my touch. “But I like it.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me fully, his gaze softening for a moment, as if he was trying to read me—trying to make sure I was still in control, still wanting this as much as he did. And I was. More than I’d ever imagined.

“What now?” His voice was a little quieter, a little less hurried, but still laced with that same intensity.

I didn’t need to think about it. I leaned forward, pressing my lips to his again, this time slower, more deliberate, savouring the feel of him, the taste of his mouth. “I don’t want this to stop,” I whispered between kisses, my hands sliding down to grip his shoulders, feeling the tension in his muscles as he held back.

He groaned softly against my lips, his hands gripping my hips tighter. “It doesn’t have to.”

The way he said it, so sure, made my heart race even faster. We were in an alley behind a bar, but in this moment, it didn’t matter. Nothing felt rushed or wrong. It felt like exactly where we were supposed to be. Like I had finally stepped into a part of myself I’d been avoiding for too long. And with him, it felt… right.

The intensity between us burned hotter, and soon, his hands were back on my waist, sliding under my shirt, his fingers grazing the skin there in a way that made me gasp. I could feel the roughness of the brick wall behind me, but all I could focus on was him—his touch, his breath, the way he seemed just as lost in this as I was.

But there was something else too, a sense of grounding I hadn’t expected. He wasn’t rushing. He wasn’t pushing. He was waiting, following my lead, giving me the space to feel, to take in every second of this. And I knew, in that moment, that whatever happened next, it was because we both wanted it. Because we were both ready for it.

And as the world around us continued to disappear, the night taking over, I knew that whatever came next—whether it lasted for just this night or beyond—it would be the best decision I’d ever made.

Part 2

#austin butler #caught stealing #hank thompson #fiction #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #fanfic #fan fiction #imagine #Hank Thompson x you #Hank Thompson x reader #Hank Thompson x y/n #caught stealing fic

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invertedheaven · 4 months ago

Text

If You Really Love Nothing

chapter 13: such scenes for things that i regret

chapter index | next chapter

Sukuna mumbled your name so quietly, it was enough for yuji to hold his breath as he waited for sukuna to continue “does she have a kid?”

Yujis eyes widened and he subconsciously took a few steps backwards, his heart was beating so fast he swears you’d be able to hear it thudding. How sukuna found this out was still a complete mystery, yuji swallowed slowly trying to think of words to say but this was not his conversation to have. Did sukuna talk to you? Or Gojo? Yuji genuinely had no words, nor was he ready for this.

Sukuna saw how yuji was caught off guard by the question and he could see how hard yuji was thinking, if it was any other time maybe sukuna would’ve allowed himself to laugh at how bad his brother was at lying, but right now he just wants some answers

“I don’t know” yuji finally spoke up, but he didn’t make eye contact and instead had his gaze fixed on the floor in front of him

“Bullshit” sukuna spat out “try again”

Yuji knew sukuna would know he was lying but he tried anyways, he wants to think he wouldn’t have given in as easily as he is right now

“She does” yuji answered even more quiet than the first time

Sukuna feels every beat of his heart and is painfully aware of his own breathing. He really didn’t think this would’ve been an outcome and he feels as if this is all a very bad joke.

Yuji felt like he knew what the next question was, but his main concern is how sukuna came about asking these questions. Not that he thinks Sukuna is stupid but his brothers general apathy had given yuji hope that sukuna wouldn’t have found out on his own, especially with how careful you and gojo were being

“Is it gojos kid?” Sukuna spoke lowly and yuji closed his eyes in acceptance that Sukuna isn’t asking out of cluelessness, he’s asking to confirm what he’s already suspicious of so lying would do nothing but make things worse

Yuji doesn’t answer, at least not verbally, as much as he had been hoping that sukuna would eventually know the truth yuji didn’t want it to be this way— with all the pressure on him. So instead all yuji does is shake his head no in response, his eyes still fixed on the ground.

Sukuna laughed a humorless, dry laugh. If the kid wasn’t gojos, then it had to be his, there was no one else you were with 4 years ago. And yet he still refuses to accept it, its really not a situation he’d ever expected to find himself in.

“Whose kid is it, yuji” sukuna asked with a hint of what sounded like desperation in his voice

“I think you… need to talk to her, I can’t answer this” the use of his name had him taken aback but yuji spoke with faltering confidence and looked sukuna directly in his eyes. This isn’t his issue and he wasn’t going to be the one to break the news, it’s not what you would’ve wanted either.

“Why aren’t you answering? Do you think you owe her some sort of loyalty?” Sukuna snapped

Yuji furrowed his brows at this, he hated to hear sukuna talk ill of you. Sure yuji doesn’t “owe” you loyalty but you’ve been nothing but kind to yuji, on top of never speaking bad about sukuna. He truly wonders how you and his brother were ever a thing considering the vastly different worlds you lived in.

“This isn’t my conversation to have, sukuna” yuji bit back, now it was his brothers turn to refuse to make eye contact

Sukuna stood unmoved from the doorway, partially in shock at this revelation. Just a few hours ago his priority was entirely different than whatever the fuck it was now. At first he was just trying to gauge how difficult it'd be to get you back from gojo and now it was an entirely different beast, it was a kid-- HIS kid apparently.

Emotions that he never thought he’d feel when thinking about you flood his mind. You were the only person he had that he felt genuine love for, an emotion foreign to him simply because he believes he hadn’t been born with such grace on his side. Not out of pity for himself, just a genuine observation. Everything fell into place when he was with you, and he found himself clinging to your every word and action as if it was gospel. And he knows that kind of control you had over him—intentional or not, was what scared him.

There was no way he was going to sleep or even attempt to sleep. So instead he decides he’s going to get answer-- now. For the first time he finds himself at a standstill, theres not really a way he can just sleep this off but he didn’t feel like a call or text was appropriate.

If he called or texted you, you’d easily avoid his questions not just that but he wouldn’t be able to see your body language. He used to pride himself on being able to tell when you’re lying to him, but he thinks he’s lost that privilege. Youre clearly not the same person he knew and it distressed him. All of this was too much for his mind to settle with— you being capable of hiding something so important from him. Maybe a few hours ago he’d rethink his next choices for your sake but in his mind this situation he was put in didn’t really require him to be courteous.

Of course not without thinking about his ungrateful brother. If yuji caught wind that sukuna intended to go to Gojos house at this hour he’d surely tell you or fushiguro and that would give you time to either leave or come up with some lie. He needed to catch you off guard, since you clearly had no issue with lying to his face.

Sukuna scoffed “Fine”

Yuji watched as his brother turned around getting ready to leave the house again and it made him jump a little in surprise as he realized sukuna didn’t plan on staying home

“Where are you going?” Yuji asked— dumbly and nervously, but he was met with silence

“Sukuna its late, come on-“ yuji began again but he was cut off

“Lets go. You said I should ask her, so let’s do that” sukunas voice was eerily calm and yuji felt his stomach turn

It felt like he’d been caught red handed, growing up he’d been able to get away with most things he’d gotten in trouble for simply because his grandfather was too old to care. Yuji thinks maybe the is what it was like to be afraid of your parents finding out you did something bad. His breathing was getting heavier as he realized you’d probably think this was his fault, and his head spun as he thought about how sukuna probably hated him even more now.

“I didn’t mean right now! Sh- she’s probably asleep or—“ yuji stuttered out

“Then she can wake up” sukuna interrupted “Lets. Go.”

Yuji gulped and clenched his fists he knew it was pointless to argue but he still felt the need to try “Can’t you just call her or something? We can wait til tomorrow we can go first thing in the morning” but all sukuna did was stare with an unreadable expression on his face.

Yuji realized sukuna was waiting for him to move and he didn’t know what to do first. Yuji turned around to grab his phone and keys from the table but sukuna spoke up “Leave it”

“But my phone-“ yuji began

“I know, I said leave it” sukuna repeated, if it sounded fucked up that he wanted to catch you off guard he didnt really care. He thinks the kid you’re probably hiding is a lot worse.

Yuji cursed to himself, he hated how it seems like sukuna read his mind. Yuji had every intention of alerting you or megumi he didn’t want you to be blindsided or feel ambushed by his brother, he had to force himself to swallow down a rude response to his brother because yujis guilt was too overwhelming that even if he wanted to help you, the idea of “betraying” his brother again made his stomach twist.

The car was filled with a suffocating silence, it was hard to describe. Yuji felt it was similar to when your head is underwater and the world becomes muffled and the only thing you can really sense is your breathing. He feels it become harder to catch his breath and the moment the silence in the car breaks would be like when you finally lift your head out of the water. He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath, simply out of fear that if sukuna so much as heard him breathe he would say something. Yet, sukuna didn’t say a single word… yuji wondered if he was even paying attention to the road considering how disconnected he seemed.

Yuji didn’t really wonder how sukuna knew where you lived because the one of the few conditions sukuna had when yuji first moved in (aside from not being too loud) was to share his location with sukuna at all times. It makes sense but yuji never thought his brother paid any attention to that, considering he always asked where yuji had been. Yuji felt incredibly naïve to think that sukuna wouldn’t take that opportunity to figure out your address.

Meanwhile, Sukuna doesn’t feel like its quiet enough. He can still hear the pot holes he drives over, the muffled sound of wind hitting his car and the sound of the turn signals as he drives. It was all too loud as he tries to think of what he’s going to say to you. He wonders why he even brought yuji with him, it’s not like there would be any benefit he had heard enough from him for the night. Yet the idea of going to see you alone seemed jarring, even if yuji clearly showed that he chose you over his own brother, at least if yuji was there Sukuna wouldn’t face you with no one behind him. He finds himself frustrated with the thought that he didn’t want to be alone. He consistently tried to convince himself that through his solitude was how he has gotten so far, yet the past few months had grown increasingly challenging as he realized you moved forward without him, and now yuji is slowly but surely replacing him. He’s not even sure what makes him have this train of thought it sounds self pitying and pathetic in sukunas opinion but he cant get it out of his head. Maybe it’s the idea that its him being left behind, instead of him leaving you behind, he doesn’t linger too long on the thought that it has to be some sort of underlying abandonment issue.

And the worst part about this is the kid— he has a fucking kid? But as screwed up as it sounded his first thought wasn’t to see his kid, no… it was to see you. The anger he felt… he wasn’t even sure where it stemmed from, he never felt passionately about having a kid, it wasn’t even a reality he’d imagined for himself but it was more the principle of the matter— that you looked in his eyes that night you dropped yuji off and still denied him the truth. And its that thought that causes his heart to twist uncomfortably and for him to anxiously (although he’d never admit that) run his hand through his hair as he stares at the red light that seemed to be taking too long on purpose, as if it knew he wanted to get to you as soon as possible.

————

“I thought you said you were good at this” you laughed

“I am! This is the best wrapping i’ve ever seen what are you talking about?” Gojo responded, in complete seriousness

You and Gojo had decided to wrap the kids christmas presents considering it was 2 days away. You were both sat in your matching pajamas (a gag gift from gojo that you and the kids were “honored” to receive according to him) on the living room floor trying your best to make the presents look pretty. Gojo swears he’s amazing but Airi could probably do better than him at this point, it surprised you because he was usually good at most things he did.

Gojo in all honesty was tired from the work “party” (if thats what people want to call it, he sure wont) but he felt as if he needed this distraction. Going to bed with a bitter taste in his mouth about his day had him disgruntled, so you suggested wrapping the gifts and eating leftover cake from megumis birthday. You opted for wrapping megumis presents so they looked decent considering they were expensive and since airi couldn’t care less about presentation all she cares about is the actual present, gojos “expertise” were perfect for her gifts.

Megumi got a new gaming console, headset and a few new games while Airi got pretty much her whole list. From a new doll house, to new dolls, a fake kitchen play set (which you find ironic since she’s so picky), nail polish, and new plushies. You tried to convince gojo to not go all out but he insisted. You don’t get too bothered because if megumi had asked for more gojo would’ve done the same for him, you think maybe thats just the best way gojo can show his affection. And each time he always insists that its from the both of you even if you contributed nothing financially. It eats away at your conscience and you cant help but feel guilty every year.

“Y’know airi should start pre-school or something soon” you sighed as you cut across the glittery red wrapping paper— also gojos choice, you probably would’ve chosen something less difficult to tape the glitter made it hard for the tape to stick so you had to use a lot but at least it was pretty.

“No, she does not have you seen the other kids these days? All terrible” Gojo looked at you with disgust

“Satoru she doesn’t have anybody her age around her, her social skills are going to be horrible if I don’t at least do a day care or school” you argued

“Who cares about that, megumi lacks social skills and he’s doing just fine” gojo said as he waved the scissors in his hand around (he was lying through his teeth)

You scrunched up your nose and shook your head “not the best example, he barely stopped getting in fights this year”

Gojo rolled his eyes as he went back to poorly wrapping the dog plushie airi asked for, you told him to use a bag but he did his own thing “well I think shes fine, what if you put her in dance or a sport at least until kindergarten”

The both of you sat in silence for the next few minutes as you contemplated the idea, maybe she would like to do something fun that could be a hobby but its so hard when she’s so indecisive, she’s only 3 its not like you expect her to be invested in anything. The topic of the future made you anxious, and for some reason there was already a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you thought it was just your usual rush of anxiety that constant sense of impending doom but it just felt different today, so you opted to change the subject again… maybe if you don’t think about it you’ll be fine.

“She’s gonna love the kitchen” you giggled as you watched gojo very pathetically attempt to wrap it

“Do I need to wrap this?” Gojo whined “Genuinely will this even work” it was a giant box because the toy still needed to be assembled. You could already picture yourself annoyed at the instructions, sometimes kids toys made no sense.

“Probably not but I was waiting for you to figure that out” you laughed while gojo just glared at you

Your laugh was abruptly cut off by the sound of knocking on the front door (If you could’ve call it that it sounded more like someone was kicking the door.) Your voice caught in your throat as you and gojo made eye contact, it was a little too late to be expecting visitors and your mind already started thinking the worst, like maybe it was one of your neighbors having an emergency. Sukuna so far from your mind as you were lulled into a false sense of security with gojo, wrapping presents pretending like it was always going to be like this.

“Im gonna check on airi” you whispered

Gojo nodded but you don’t know what compelled you to wait until he approached the door.

Gojo looked through the peephole trying to see who it was and you watched as his posture changed. His shoulders slumped and he dropped his arms clenching one of his fists at his side. You moved to see who it was but gojo wouldn’t budge

You furrowed your brow “what is it?” You whispered, a little annoyed that he wasn’t moving

Gojo just dropped his head to look at the floor and sighed letting your question hang in silence

“Satoru seriously what is it?” You almost want to laugh not because theres anything funny but because you’re nervous

Gojo didn’t really know how to tell you that sukuna was on the other side of the door with an unpleasant look on his face (not that his face ever looked pleasant in gojos humble opinion). But the man looked angry, and gojo hated to think about what could possibly have him looking like that. Internally Gojo prepared himself for the possibility of sukuna having found out about airi, and he knew you’d probably want him on standby by to make sure airi is okay.

“Its sukuna” gojo mumbled

Your eyes widen as your heart beat sped up, almost immediately your entire body had such a visceral reaction “what do you mean sukuna? he’s here?” You asked for clarification even if gojo was perfectly clear

Gojo nodded and looked at you with a pained expression “he looks displeased”

You swallowed thickly, trying to even out your breathing “maybe he’ll go away”

But he kept knocking and it caused you to jump slightly while gojo snapped his head back to the door

You felt your feet glued to the same spot, you couldn’t move it was almost as if your brain wasn’t even in charge of your body anymore. Your breathing became erratic and it became harder to control, you tried to think of any possibility he would have for coming to your home so late. Your eyes widened as you thought maybe it was an emergency with yuji but before you could voice that gojo spoke up

“We have to answer it, the knockings gonna wake up airi” he told you calmly “do you want me to answer it first?” He wasn’t too concerned about megumi because he was probably awake watching something with his headphones on at a way too loud volume to be considered normal. He knew you weren’t really processing that sukuna was outside your door so he put his hand on your shoulder and said your name but the look in your eyes told him you were far from present.

“Im going to answer you can wait right here” he maneuvered you just out of sight at the entrance of the kitchen which was next to the front door

———

Sukuna grew more agitated with each passing second. Why weren’t you answering the door? he knows you’re awake, last time he checked you were a night owl. Never asleep before 1 am no matter what, but that was 4 years ago, had you really changed that much? He remembers why he came and the sudden softness he felt for you hardens quickly.

Sukuna shouted your name “Answer the door, I know you’re in there!” as he continued to knock and as he was met with a few more moments of silence he got prepared to knock again but before his now red knuckles could hit the door again, it swung open. Sukuna scowled as he saw who had answered and gojo returned the expression

“Is there something I can help you with? Do you know what time it is? We have neighbors.” gojo asked loudly— so much for ‘be quiet its late’

“Im not here to talk to you, you idiot” Sukuna snapped

Gojo realized sukuna had a look in his eyes that screamed unease. Like he was hanging on by a thread and it made gojo almost slam the door in his face because there was no way you were going to talk to Sukuna when he looked like that. But before he could make that decision for you he saw you move out of the corner of his eye, you came to stand slightly behind him but next to him. He looked down at you with the silent question of ‘what are you doing’ written on his face but your eyes were fixed on the man in front of you.

Sukuna pretends that the sight of your already glassy eyes doesn’t make his heart skip a little, he’d never really remain unaffected by you no matter how much he tried. But that fleeting moment of softness for you quickly fizzled away at the sight of you and gojo in matching fucking pajamas, I mean really it felt like this happened on purpose as if you and gojo had planned it. He feels his jealousy bubbling up inside of him and he refuses to even acknowledge the white haired man next to you. Sukuna also noted the way you seemed to hide behind gojo, which also pisses him off because why would you’d have to be shielded from him? He has never hurt you and he never would and to see the way you acted so unfamiliar to him had his mind buzzing.

You haven’t torn your eyes away from sukuna, you notice the barely hidden look of franticness in his eyes, you feel his gaze swallowing you whole. It’s a look in his eyes you never thought you’d be on the receiving end of.

“What do you want?” You asked trying to make your voice stable but you know you must have sounded like a mess

“We need to talk” sukuna replied with a calmness that felt too eerie to be comfortable “Alone” he added as he finally looked at gojo

“Not a chance, what do you want-“ gojo started but you interrupted him abruptly “Fine”

You turned to satoru completely “im fine, just make sure everythings good inside” you hoped he’d catch onto the way you were asking him to check on airi, last thing you need is for her to be awake and hearing what you imagine wont be a pleasant conversation judging by sukunas demeanor

Gojo didnt want to question you in front of sukuna so all he did was put his hand on your arm and squeezed it briefly before pointedly staring at sukuna as he disappeared behind the door before coming back with a jacket.

"here its too cold out here" gojo mumbled as he shoved the jacket in your hands, you recognized it as his and you were thankful because it was freezing outside and you cant imagine this conversation was going to be fast. You shrugged the jacket on ignoring sukunas pointed stare, he was so obviously bothered it was annoying to you.

The pink haired mans eyebrow slightly twitched at the interaction that unfolded before him but before he could get any more riled up about it your voice pulled him out of his thoughts “what did you want to talk about?” you asked, stepping out of the house and closing the door behind you

Sukuna felt a small smirk try to fight its way onto his face you were responding in short, terse comments you were trying so hard to remain calm but he knows you, he can hear the wave of insecurity hidden in your voice.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Sukuna spat out

You’re not sure what he thinks he knows. Your mind is telling you hes found out about airi but what if he wasn’t? What if he just thinks you’re dating gojo or something unimportant. You're already overthinking just trying to understand what exactly his intentions are.

“Do you want to elaborate?” You asked calmly

Sukuna felt his eye twitch slightly, he thinks it was probably very obvious. He takes the opportunity to turn around and look at where he parked to make sure yuji is still in the car but also to make you look. He knows if you saw yuji, you’d probably understand why he was here.

You followed Sukunas line of sight as you saw yuji sitting in the front seat of sukunas car, that you only recognize because you saw it the day you dropped yuji off. Yuji looked shocked at the way both you and sukuna stared at him and he quickly fixed his gaze forward instead of the two of you. Yuji knows you could probably see the guilt riddled on his face and he so badly wants to tell you it wasn’t him but by the time he attempts to look at you and sukuna again you’re already back to staring at his brother.

Sukuna turned back to you to find you already glaring at him, as if you have anything to be mad at

“You know what Im talking about don’t play dumb” sukuna began

You just squinted your eyes slightly “I don’t know what you’re talking about I cant read your mind, sukuna” it was your turn to lace your tone with spite

“Whose kid is it? I know you have one, who is the father?” Sukuna said bluntly, speaking so casually as if he hadn’t just shattered whatever front you had

He watched as your face faltered, your eyebrows furrowed, mouth twitching and your body tensed. You looked back at the car and noticed yuji staring again you felt cornered somehow. You had an inkling you felt like you knew why he was here the second you saw his face but you refused to accept it. Even now, as Sukuna so brazenly asked his dreaded question you felt as if it was dream— you’d simply fallen asleep while wrapping the gifts with gojo.

Yet the cold biting at the tip of your nose and the man standing in front of you demanding an answer said otherwise. You couldn’t find your voice and you couldn’t look at his face, you didn’t know how to answer him even if the answer was simple.

“I-“ you began, you feel as if you’d forgotten every word you’d ever learned because your mind was coming up blank. You took the opportunity to look up at him to see his face but he simply looked unamused, it made you feel worse. The look on his face was always something you strived to avoid when you were dating and something you subconsciously were still trying to avoid all these years later. The very idea that his eyes could bear such reproof for you was terrifying, and to see it now made your heart ache in a way you weren’t prepared for.

And even more so the way he was still so breathtaking to you, even with his hair messy because he was clearly running his hands through it, even with the blush spreading across his face from the cold, you truly could not wrap your head around the fact that he was real. His tattoos and the ones peaking through the collar of his hoodie had you becoming completely distracted-- if only for a moment.

Sukuna slightly raised his brows in a mocking manner indicating he was waiting for you to continue. It wasn’t encouraging in the slightest

You cleared your throat in hopes that it’d stop the cry building in your throat “I have a daughter” you stated, your voice wavered as you avoided sukunas glare. You stared pointedly at your feet, the tears were building in your eyes before you could stop them obscuring the view of your shoes, you let the tear drops fall as they slid down your cheeks. It was strange to feel your warm tears while the cold air bit at your face let yourself embrace it— It almost felt comforting. You quickly wiped them away as the silence between you and sukuna grew overwhelming.

You lifted your head to meet sukunas eyes “you’re her father” you whispered so quietly had sukuna not been holding his breath he’s sure he wouldn’t have heard you.

There was something cruel in the way your eyes were glistening with tears and your body shook— from the cold or nerves he could not tell. Cruel in the sense that you’re acting as if you hadnt been hiding this. He knew it, felt it, from the second yuji couldn’t answer.

“Did you know” he spoke tone indiscernible

“What do you mean?” Your brows furrowed as you sniffled

“When we broke up did you know” he doesn’t know why he wants to know that, he’s somehow afraid of the answer

You shook your head in response “it didn’t happen then” you mumbled

It clicked then in Sukunas head that it was that god damned one night stand stunt he pulled. His eyes widened slightly and hes glad you were too busy wiping your eyes to see his surprise. Somehow he knew he’d come to regret that night even more than he already did. Even if that night was the last time he felt actually well rested solely because he had you in his arms again, your presence down to feeling you breathe, how your shampoo and lotion smelled, everything about you had overtaken his senses. He missed you, he had missed you so much it made him so frustrated to be so weak for you, and having to leave you that next morning— without so much as a goodbye sent him spiraling for months after, doing the opposite of what he wanted.

He didn’t know where to start or what to ask he didnt even think he wanted to know anymore yet the words start rising to his throat unbidden “why didn’t you tell me?” He spat out

You slightly startled not expecting his harsh tone out of nowhere “Oh please” you laughed it was vacant of any actual amusement “I did, I tried so hard sukuna you have no idea”

He furrowed his brows and opened his mouth to speak buy you cut him off “If you happen to remember you blocked me on literally everything… I tried calling and texting I even used someone else’s phone and yet there was never a response” you started to get a little louder from all the pent up resentment

“And you couldn’t leave a voicemail? Or even texted me this?” Sukuna asked incredulously

You gawked “I DID! I fucking did, i texted you from 3 different numbers that it was me and that I needed to talk to you, I left plenty of voicemails telling you to call me back” you shouted your tone quickly escalating from what it once was and you were shaking from how angry you were “what else was I supposed to do? I couldn’t even go find you, I wouldn’t even know where to begin” you spat out, choosing to leave out the fact that he never gave you anything of his past that could’ve served as a hint for you, that wasn’t the point of this and it didnt even matter now anyways, you weren’t together anymore anyways.

Sukuna genuinely could not recall such attempts in the moment but if he stopped to think he'd surely remember (he deleted every voicemail and ignored every text for his sanity unknowing of the urgency behind them) although it probably didn’t help there was about 3 months that he wasn’t sober in any sense. That was the life he tried to convince himself he wanted to live, nothing but things that would bring entertainment to him.

So, youre not entirely wrong, you did try but thanks to time, alcohol, drugs and denial sukuna truly did not recall such events. Ignoring everything you just said he cuts your rant off “what about when you saw me the other night?”

To that you had no answer so he continued “how long did you know yuji was my brother?”

You swallowed looking back at the car to see yuji had put his head against the window but his gaze was faced forward you looked back to sukuna “from the moment I met him” you answered honestly

Sukuna scoffed he took a minute to look up at the house behind you. He didn't really notice how nice it actually was and how one of the windows upstairs had a light on. He looked back down at the door behind you and his stomach turned uncomfortably, he realized behind that door was an entire life you’d built without him. You’d even included yuji in this sickeningly domestic life.

“You knew that whole time that I was back” sukuna spoke, not a question but simply a statement

“I was going to-“ you began

“But you didn’t” he cut you off

He felt disgusted that you were scrambling to create excuses “if I hadnt found out, when would you have told me, if at all?” He questioned accusatorially

“I don’t know” you irritably replied “I don’t know, I was waiting for a right moment-“

“You needed a right moment to tell me about MY kid?” He argued

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes you settle on staring straight into sukunas eyes “I did” you spoke resolutely

Sukuna had to physically bite his tongue to stop himself from saying things that could make this much worse not because he cared if he hurt you, if he was being honest he’d lost a lot of respect for you. In his opinion you had no moral high ground here yet you could very easily not allow him to see his kid, although hes not even sure he wanted to meet her. It sounds like an absolutely shitty thing to say but he cant help but feel like he has no emotion about this aside from betrayal on yujis and your behalf.

And yet, “What’s her name?” He asked before he could stop himself

Your eyes widened slightly and you know he saw it “Airi” you spoke with much more certainty, he noticed and there was the smallest spark in your eyes, the same one he recognized when you’d start to talk about something you were passionate about-- he missed it.

“Birthday?”

“Her birthday?” You questioned making sure you understood since he wasn’t really using sentences he only nodded in response. So you continued “March 21st”

You saw the look of realization on his face, that it was right after yujis birthday yet he didn’t say anything.

There was an uncomfortable silence after you told him that, you didn’t really know what to say. There was nothing to say to make this any better and you knew that, as much as sukuna knew that too.

“Why?”

You heard vulnerability laced within the word, something you’d never heard from sukuna. You felt your chest burn as you accepted the fact that you were the cause of it. You knew what he was asking and standing here now, you felt like a fool for your reasoning.

“Y’know I wasn’t mad that you broke up with me” you began your eyes settled on his chest he was wearing a black hoodie with some weird symbol on it and you focused solely on that as you continued “I was at first especially since it was right after my birthday but once that initial rage calmed down I just felt” you trailed off

Sukuna felt annoyed at this monologue you were putting on he didn’t really ask for the reminder of one of his biggest regrets

“I felt hopeless I guess, I thought you were my end all be all. If you asked me to I would’ve stayed with you for as long as you’d let me and yet you couldnt even tell me why you dumped me”

Sukuna rolled his eyes slightly but you didnt see it so he interrupted you “So its some sort of revenge?”

You ignored him “I remember begging you to tell me why” you laughed but it sounded like you were in pain “Do you? How you walked to my room to grab your shit without so much as looking my way”

The memory of that night flooded sukunas brain, you were trailing behind him crying asking him why, what you did wrong, if he was okay. And he remembers ignoring it all. You stood in the door way watching him slowly gather his things as if he was trying to rid you of his presence before you even had the chance to mourn it.

“Years, we were together for YEARS and you left as if I was nothing, If you didnt want to be with me— I couldnt change that” you spat out and you finally moved your gaze from his sweater to his face that wasn’t looking at you but the door behind you “but you could’ve told me why… I deserved that much at least”

Sukuna still didn’t understand what the correlation was but you pressed on “then you come back for one night just to leave me more fucked up than before you came yet again leaving without thinking of what that did to me” you sniffled as you stared daggers into him while he finally moved his line of sight back to your face. Your face-- that beyond the melancholy your eyes held there was a subtle hint of rage.

Your voice raised and you choked up “Selfish. You were selfish, sukuna! And then I found out I was pregnant and after months of my desperate attempts— all my attempts to get you to care I just gave up” you shrugged exaggeratedly “Do you have any idea how exhausting that is?” starting to openly cry you continued “Do you know how much it hurt to try to get you to care not even about me but your kid?” You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes and sukuna felt a sinking feeling of guilt not liking the way this conversation was going.

Your voice sounded unfamiliar to you as you struggled to talk through the tears “So fine, I settle with the fact that I’ll tell you eventually, even if I wanted you to know then, even if I wanted you there every step of the way even if I wanted airi to know-“ you shook your head and brought your hands up to your face as your body was shaking with your muffled cries

Sukuna didn’t know what to do or say he held himself back from his urge to wrap his arms around you, it felt too foreign now, he hadn’t realized just how much of a stranger you were to him now. He deluded himself into thinking he’d be able to get you back somehow, that you wouldn’t even think twice of being with him again. Yet as he watched you breakdown in front of him and he heard how you felt about him, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t lose hope.

You calmed down after a few moments, having needed to let the cry out to be able to continue talking. You sniffled and it sounded disgusting as your nose was runny but you continued “I can’t put airi through that” your voice was gentle but hurt “if thats how you treat people you ‘love’ I cant subject her to that, she’s better off not knowing you at all”

Sukuna thinks he feels a crack in his heart form at that last part, the implication behind your words that you probably thought you would’ve been better off not knowing him made his ears ring. He wanted to tell you to stop but he couldn’t find it in himself to speak

“Because if I told you about her, if you came into her life and abandoned her the way you left me, without so much as a reason” you shook your head “I won’t let that happen to my baby” you wiped your nose and waited for sukuna to say something, he’d been oddly quiet and he was avoiding looking directly at you

Sukunas throat felt dry as he let your words sink in surely he’d look back on this and understand your reasoning but to no ones surprise he lets his defensiveness speak for him

“And you decided that for me” he spoke matter of factly but he could clearly hear the hurt in his words, he hoped you hadnt noticed

You wanted to punch him. Thats what he had to say after everything you told him, after the years of built up resentment and sadness, it made you sick. But if he wanted to play that way then fine, he knew you were always one to match his attitude and even if it was petty and immature you didnt care, he clearly didnt.

“I did” you answered back in the same tone

————

Gojo sat on the couch with his head thrown back as he screwed his eyes shut. Had he been as harsh on you as he is with others maybe he would’ve given you better advice. He should’ve told you to tell sukuna, he shouldn’t have coddled your emotions but he couldn’t help it. Sure, he doesn’t think sukuna is a good person he doesn’t deserve to be graced by you or airis presence but he is airis father.

Maybe because he’d been out of the picture for years it was easy to imagine him as merely a sperm donor but after hearing the entire conversation you and sukuna decided to share with the neighborhood, an uncomfortable feeling of guilt settles in gojos gut. He shouldn’t feel bad for sukuna and yet he does… that man probably doesnt even care about airi but granted the reality of the situation sucked. If gojo was in sukunas shoes he’s not even sure he’d be able to even look at you. All things he should’ve thought about before any of this happened, but it was too late now and he was probably going to be left to pick up the pieces. He heard foot steps running down the stairs and didn’t bother looking, he had honestly wondered if megumi noticed what was happening, gojo didn’t really think to alert him. He’d been too concerned with checking on airi and as your conversation got louder he decided to stay close, just in case.

“What is going on?” Megumi harshly whispered

Gojo sighed and kept his eyes closed “he knows… about airi”

Megumi figured as much considering he heard most of the argument but he was still confused “she told him?”

Gojo shook his head “we don’t know how he found out, the fucker just showed up out of nowhere”

Megumis brows furrowed he had at least 10 more questions but he could tell gojo wasn’t in the mood

“Is she okay?” Megumi asked, he clarified he was talking about you as gojo looked him waiting for an elaboration

“Probably not” gojo shrugged

Megumi didn’t really know what to do, he hadn’t received a text from yuji so maybe he doesn’t know that sukuna is here. Or maybe he actually told his brother, megumi didnt want to think yuji would do that so he quickly shut that thought down

“That guys an idiot” gojo mumbled

And all megumi could do was nod in agreement.

————

“And yuji?” He asked angrily

“What about him?” You asked with a mocking tone

Sukuna looked back at his parked the car, of course the brat was trying to listen in because the second sukuna turned around yuji took his head off the window and looked at the steering wheel of the car instead, trying to play it off

“You manipulated him into not telling me, you claim im the bad guy here yet you-“ sukuna was cut off by you too quickly for his liking

“For your information, sukuna, I was expecting him to tell you, in fact when he found out I swore that was it, I freaked out trying to think about how he’d tell you everything” you spoke with gritted teeth “but I guess you just have your head so far up your own ass that he decided not to tell you”

Sukunas eyes widened slightly “I didn’t need to do anything, you did all the work yourself” you huffed out, glaring at him like you’re sick

He didn’t have a response to that, he knows its probably true yuji decided that on his own.

And somehow in this moment he’s a child again. He’s watching as his parents look at him with disgust, as his grandfather tells him to ‘just behave’, and as his classmates run away in fear from him. Sukuna himself does not realize thats what hes experiencing in the moment, he just thinks the look in your eyes pisses him off.

He thinks you’re never going to stop taking from him. You’ve taken all the space in his brain that is allowed, you’ve taken a part of him and created a whole other person out of it. You took his kid from him and now his brother. It’s not supposed to be like this with him practically at your mercy, with him just lucky enough to be granted a glance from you.

How much was it going to take to change this? To set things right, to start over. Had he confused your power for his? All this time he really could’ve convinced himself you were wrapped around his finger, but he was cruelly proven wrong.

You cleared your throat snapping sukuna out of his thoughts, you didnt know what he was thinking or what he was planning but it made you anxious

“Did you want to meet her?” You asked quietly

“No” sukuna answered all to quickly. He needed time, he didn’t know how much but he couldn’t see her like this. Any normal person would think they’d hate to spend one more second not knowing but he thinks if he met her and he was face to face with a life he’s missed with you, well he’d probably lose his mind.

You flinched at his response and you felt your heart shatter, it was exactly what you were afraid of you knew it. You started to nod in acceptance, because at least you knew it was coming, at least airi didn’t have to know this happened

Sukuna realized you couldn’t read his thoughts as he saw you cave in on yourself, you were shaking and nodding the tears away so he spoke up “not right now I mean” he corrected

You looked him like he was full of shit “It wasn’t going to be right now, she’s asleep”

Sukuna bites back a comment on how you wouldn’t have woken her up for this but chose not to

“You should go” you said, tired of his immaturity

He needed to say something, even if he was mad at you, at everything that just happened “Ill call you” he spoke

You laughed in his face “Go home” you spat out

He wasn’t ready for how fast you retreated from him or how loud and hard you slammed the front door in his face after you went inside.

He was left staring at the doormat, it was a shade of blue that somehow looked lonely. He was disgusted by his vulnerable train of thought, this was not something he wanted to indulge in yet the silence you left him with was eating him alive. The thing about you was that you posed a threat to his own personal philosophy. Love was merely a concept people needed to cope, to find a reason for their existence and for him he was convinced he didn’t need someone else to satisfy his needs. Yet everything about you contradicted that, after all these years he was still left feeling as if he needed you. It was abhorrent.

After a few minutes of being unable to move, his feet moved of their own will as he walked back to his car. The way yuji avoided looking at him made him slam the door shut as he got in the drivers seat

“How long did you know” sukuna asked quietly but Yuji couldnt discern any of type of emotion from his words

Yuji held his breath as he prepared to answer “It wasn’t long” he mumbled “maybe 2 weeks”

Sukuna merely scoffed as he inserted the key into the ignition, he didn’t really have anything to say. Sukuna of all people who always knew what to say, who always knew what he wanted, just didn’t have any words.

———

You slammed the door shut and leaned against it, sliding down to sit on the floor with your knees tucked to your chest you put your head in your hands and cried. It was a continuous stream of tears as you sat with your guilt.

Gojo shooed megumi to his room, which megumi was more than happy to take this opportunity to get away. Not that he didnt want to be there for you but he’s not even sure he’d be of any use right now other than just standing awkwardly. Gojo approached you quietly as he sat down next to you on the floor, you had noticed but didn’t acknowledge him. You just sat there for what felt like forever and he allowed the silence between you two to speak for itself until you were ready.

You sighed and pressed the back of your head against the door “he doesn’t want to meet her” you whispered, voice raspy from the tears and the arguing with sukuna

Gojo couldn’t quite catch the end of your conversation with sukuna, all he had heard was mumbles so as you told him this he felt his heart break for you

“He said that?” he asked in disbelief

You nodded “I asked him if he wanted to meet her and he said no almost immediately” you sniffled “he noticed he fucked up cause he added ‘not right now’ quickly after” you shook your head in disbelief as you huffed out a small laugh

“He does need time to process” gojo spoke up “but-“

“I know he does, I never said he didn’t but its like he didn’t even need to think about it” you snapped “I just don’t know what to believe when he speaks”

Gojo cant blame you for feeling hurt by sukunas crass behavior but he can understand him, would he do the same? Probably no but thats not for gojo to say

“Im sorry it happened that way” gojo whispered and when he noticed you weren’t gonna respond he continued “I seriously don’t know how he found out, we didn’t talk about-”

“I know it wasn’t you satoru” you solemnly smiled at him "he is right though”

Gojo raised his brow as he waited for you to elaborate

“If he hadn’t found out” you waved your hand dismissively “in whatever way he did, I don’t know if I would’ve ever said anything” you whispered

You wanted to believe you would’ve told him eventually. That you would’ve swallowed your pride, would’ve stopped being a coward and just tell him— regardless of what came after. But you were comfortable, living with a false sense of security that your actions wouldn’t have consequences.

“You don’t know that” Gojo tried to reassure you, he thinks you would’ve a little late? Sure but your guilt was eating you alive

“Thank you satoru” you said as you leaned your head on his shoulder “I don’t think I say it enough” you whispered

Gojo could hear the insecurity laced in your words and he felt bad that you think you need to thank him, as if he’d done all of this for thanks but before he could say anything you slowly stood up

“Im going to sleep, ill see you tomorrow” you mumbled

“I got breakfast, okay?” Gojo spoke and when you looked at him, the look in his eyes made you want to melt into a puddle of shame. He had concern swimming in the depths of his too blue eyes and it hurt, you didn’t want him to look at you like that, you didn’t want pity for something thats your fault

“Whatever airi wants” gojo added and you had to snap yourself out of your self loathing thoughts

Nodding with a small smile “sounds good” you murmured

———

“So thats it?” Yuji asked, the words left his mouth before he had a chance to stop them

Sukuna threw his keys on the kitchen table and started taking off his jacket, intent on ignoring that brat asking ridiculous questions

The drive back had been insufferably silent and yuji hated it, yet he couldnt bring himself to speak. He felt he wasnt in any place to ask sukuna what had happened but at the same time, if he was dragged along to that confrontation— for literally no reason, the least sukuna could do was say something… like a single word.

“Are you going to meet her?” yuji was clearly referring to airi and the sentence made sukunas heart clench slightly

Sukuna rolled his eyes as he walked to the kitchen, he was in desperate need for some painkillers this whole ordeal gave him a headache. He should’ve known involving yuji in any way would have led to this, the kid was always too nosy for his own good and if he didn’t respond the questions would simply keep going.

“Eventually” sukuna grunted out, he was tired and did not feel like explaining himself to his traitor of a brother. He is still not over the idea that yuji was complicit in this, he always knew yuji was stupid but this was a new low.

“Eventually?” Yuji asked, he sounded like that was his first time hearing the word and Sukuna wouldn’t be surprised by that possibility

“So what was the point?” Yuji asked “you dragged me down there with you, you went and harassed them at nearly 1 am-“

“Harassed?” Sukuna repeated with a smile teasing on his face “you really need to learn what words mean before you use the-“

“Do you even care about her or airi? Or do you just want something to control” Yuji sounded disturbed, like he couldnt wrap his head around the idea that his brother wouldn’t fight to see airi. Was sukuna confusing love for control? Yuji doesnt understand why his brother denies so vehemently that he still loves you or why he would make such a big scene out of tonight if he didnt even plan to do anything about it, he just didn’t like not being the one in charge. That had to be it.

“Are you even going to try to be there for airi?” Yuji persisted and his tone was teetering on the edge of yelling

Sukuna felt whatever thin veil of patience he had snap, he wouldnt admit it but yujis words were striking a chord sukuna didn’t want to even go near “If you know whats good for you, you’d stop talking” he spoke with a threatening tone that told yuji to stop but he kept going

Deep down Yuji knew sukuna wouldn’t actually do anything it was all just a front “y’know at least our dad is dead” yuji huffed out “at least he literally physically cant be here-“

Sukuna laughed and it was yujis turn to furrow his brows, he didn’t understand why anything he said would be something to laugh at

“You idiot, Jin isn’t dead thats just what the old gas bag told you, to spare having to explain anything to you” sukuna spat out “Jin itadori is off doing god knows what who knows where, he’d be better off dead”

Yuji for some reason or another didn't feel surprised. HIs grandfather did try to tell him something before he passed he kept insisting he needed to talk to yuji about his parents but maybe in the back yujis mind he already knew. He’d never so much as visited his fathers grave, his grandfather always told him it was too far and as yuji got older that excuse made less and less sense and yet he never questioned it.

But to yuji, what hurt the most in the moment is that sukuna couldn’t see how low he’s stooped, how he was just always going to be stuck as a bitter and miserable man. Even if yuji didn’t know why sukuna hated their parents so much, he couldn’t fathom why sukuna couldn’t just be happy with what he had. Was his relationship with you not enough? Was having an actual child with you not enough? Yuji long since accepted that he’d never be enough for sukuna, for whatever reason sukuna just couldn’t be a normal brother, yuji stopped trying to understand.

In this moment, standing across from his brother— who still has a smirk on his face as if he thought he did something all yuji could feel was pity— not for himself but for his brother. There was no point in trying to get sukuna to understand, it wasn’t as though sukuna couldn't'— he was capable but he just didn’t want to. And at that point it was out of yujis hands, if sukuna had never been there for yuji why was he going to stand here and try to get sukuna to make better decisions.

Yuji laughed but it wasn’t a laugh sukuna had heard before. Sukuna likes to think he knows yujis body lanuage and mannerisms better than anyone else— considering the fact that he’s a decent amount of years older than yuji and yuji never really had many friends, its not like there was anyone else who would know him so well. While he could talk to just about anybody, which pissed sukuna off to no end especially in yujis toddler days when they’d go to a store and yuji would talk up a storm with anyone who had the misfortune of making eye contact, yet sukuna noticed yuji wasn’t a “friends” person. It seemed to be preferred, like yuji wanted the solitude despite knowing he could be well liked by anyone, and thats why sukuna knew he was screwed when yuji entered high school and actually had a group of friends, there was no convincing yuji that the fushiguro kid was satans (gojos) spawn cause when yuji did decide he had friends, he took it very serious.

So whenever yuji did something sukuna hadn’t seen before (it was rare) it always made him irrationally annoyed because he didn’t know what to expect next. As he took one look at yujis face, and he saw pititful look yuji was giving him Sukuna could’ve sworn the vein on his forehead could’ve burst

“Well im sure airi will be thrilled to be able to say the same thing about you” yuji spat out “like father like son, right?”

Yuji began to walk away from sukuna, ignoring the look of complete and utter disbelief sukuna had written on his face. Stopping at the foot of the stairs before heading to his room, throwing a small glance over his shoulder

“You’re proving her right you know?” Yuji mumbled, referring to your worries about sukunas presence in airis life

“Airi is better off without you”

next chapter

#jujutsu kaisen #sukuna x reader #jujutsu sukuna #jjksukuna #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fanfic #jjk reader insert #angst #jujustsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru #yuji itadori #megumi fushiguro #sukuna x y/n #girl dad sukuna #dad sukuna

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hanibalistic · 1 year ago

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#6F417E | EARTH-42 MILES MORALES.

genre | fluff, faint angst / reader is gn

synopsis | miles found you fainted in an alleyway one day, except you died two years ago.

word count | 8175

warning | briefe violence / use of spanish phrases translated from the internet :( let me know if i'm wrong about anything! / everything i know about e-42 miles morales is from the movie / this part deviates from the movie

parts | one, two, three, four

There were four things you learned from what happened at the bank.

One, Gwen's finishing touches to your glitch-prevention bracelet saved the essential parts of your body—neck down and hip up—from getting injured. Upon detecting the incoming air pressure released from the explosions, which the bracelet mistook as the effect of a glitch, it surrounded your torso with a protective shield that would have covered you fully if the blasts did not cause it to malfunction.

Two, the loyalty Rio has for her son was extraordinary. After Miles called her out to the back alley of the hospital building, she did not hesitate a second to sneak you into a vacant room and take from the hospital the medical supplies needed to treat you as best as she could. She did not ask any questions. It was one look on Miles’s anxious face, and she was on her feet, taking charge. Because of the safety measures Gwen placed in your bracelet, you did not sustain any fatal wounds, making it much easier for Rio to help you. The only problem you encountered was pain, a lot of it.

Three, Miles has done terrible things. He was the prowler, whatever that meant. The explosions were one of the significant steps in a bank heist that he, Uncle Aaron, and Gwen took up as a side project. Most of the time, they work on lucrative commissions offered by the likes of Kingpin, whoever that was. Kidnapping, assault, and even murder were not irregular to him. He confessed that he had killed someone before, and you asked him to stop it at that.

Four, after shutting yourself out from everyone, except for letting Rio bring you food occasionally, you realized you couldn’t care less about what Miles has done.

The thought haunted you, leaving you in an endless debate with yourself. How dare you let go of your conscience? How dare you treat a criminal with kindness? How dare you look a killer in the eyes and see someone different than their dirty past? To say you were distraught would be an understatement, as the accusations your mind kept throwing at yourself were the least troublesome hurdle to jump through. The most teeth-rotting matter was that you were guilty. You avoided seeing Miles because you knew once you did, the outrageous truth would hit you harder than the bomb blasts did. The fact that you still looked at him with love.

“Can I sit next to you?”

“Yeah–yeah. For sure.”

You climbed on his bed and sat cross-legged next to him. Miles sucked in a breath when you touched knees, and suddenly, all his senses were focused on that particular contact spot. You picked at your fingers sheepishly, feeling rather silly about your week-long silent treatment. But you needed it for self-reflection and to come to terms with your conclusion. Miles waited for you to speak. He didn’t know if this was only a spur of the moment, and he wasn’t willing to take any risks that might chase you out of his room.

“I thought about what you told me at the hospital,” you started, rubbing your hands.

“I’m so sorry about what happened,” he said, turning his head ever-so-slightly to gauge your reaction. “I would never hurt you on purpose, [Name]. I really had no idea you were there.”

“I know,” you nodded with a faint smile, “I forgave you the night it happened.”

You felt he didn’t accept your forgiveness and supposed that was only natural. If you were in his shoes, the mental gymnastics you would do to keep yourself occupied with blam could rival his. The only thing that could get him to treat himself kinder would be time, specifically having you pass through it with him. Licking your lower lip, you rubbed your nose and hummed a soft, audible grin. He turned fully to you then, feeling less anxious.

“Miles, I don’t judge you for what you did or what you plan to do,” you said, your head mildly gesturing in emphasis. Concentrating in deep thoughts, you rubbed your eyes, sniffed comfortably, and faced him with a knowing upside-down smile. “Be it you have a reason or not, I don’t think I will ever–how do I say this? I don’t think I will distance myself from you, ever.”

He felt breathless, but it came from the incongruence between his mind and heart rather than the supposed relief that you accepted him. He was too accustomed to anticipating horrific reactions that he forgot people could be open-minded. You were not supposed to be okay with what he did. You couldn’t be okay with what he did!

“[Name],” he heaved out with an uncontrollable shake of his head, “my hands are bloody.”

You looked down at where he rested them on his lap. Were they? Miles’s hands may be bloody, but they were also a multitude of other things. They are a mother’s secret financial support; they peel the skin off fruits, stroke your hair when you cry to sleep and dance across your love handles in a ticklish haze. You reached out tentatively to hold them, finally realizing he was trembling. Was he scared? You didn’t react to it. His hands fit cozily in yours, as they always have, and suddenly, Miles didn’t fear the atrocity they were capable of. You broke him down, mellowed him out, rinsed him off all he’s ashamed of, and he—

“Mine will cover the stains for you.” You held up your interwind hands with a tight-lipped smile. “See? Can’t even see your palms anymore.”

—loves you, in a frightening way that it seemed like you felt the same way too.

“[Name],” he hushed, his head dipping in exhaustion. “I’m not gonna stop berating myself.”

He wouldn’t, and it would hurt you less than it would hurt him.

You let go of his hands and watched him desperately scramble for you. It was a heartbreaking sight, even for a split second, to see his longing ragged out like an unwatered plant reaching for the faintest taste of rain. Getting your arms out and open, you refolded your legs into kneeling to pull him into a proper hug. Miles gritted his teeth to silence the screeching voices as he returned the hug immediately. When he closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of your neck, feeling the usual crank of it because your neck was sensitive and ticklish, he began to calm down.

Feeling you pat his back, he supposed this was all anything should feel like. Love—a word capable of expressing an emotion of its terrifying caliber. What else could it be? True love is the inability to abandon, in the same way Miles waited for you even after you died, and you refused to let go of his cold-blooded hands made warm by holding yours.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “I would never hurt you on purpose.”

“I know.” You nodded with a sudden thoughtful hum. “Hey, you know what you can do to make it up to me?”

Miles perked up slightly and pulled away. He raised a brow when he saw the bashful smile on your face. You’ve got an idea, and he might not like it.

The pressure in your stomach dropped whenever Miles was pulled back to the ground by gravity. Not a second after reaching the floor, he was up in the air again, his boots allowing him to reach a much greater height and distance when he jumped. As the chilling air hit your face and hair, you realized Miles was right to bundle you up after he finally agreed to take you on a stroll high up in the air.

When you raised the idea to him, his reaction was as he suspected: he did not like it. Or, well, he did not understand it.

You had told him about the faint memory of a floaty feeling the day of the bank accident, which, after he told you about him being the prowler, you could deduce had come from him taking an unconventional shortcut to the hospital. He made the mistake of admitting that he was hopping from roof to roof to get you there because the next thing you asked was for him to do it again, but this time you would be conscious of experiencing it.

Perhaps he has possessed the convenience his prowler suit gave him for too long. He couldn’t understand being fascinated with the ability to be in the air. You briefly mentioned Spiderman and his interesting web-shooting function as an argument to get Miles to understand you, but how could he? He wasn’t even sure if Spiderman was real! Still, he caved into your wish, grabbed the boots he kept hidden in his closet because he refused to go anywhere with the risk of bumping into him for now, and brought you on a rooftop stroll.

What was originally a safety hazard forcing his claws to wrap steel tight around your body soon shifted into something of ease. His heart grew in size at how much fun you were having, and for once, he reverted to the boy he was the first time he experienced the thrill this well-made suit gave him. He kept his eyes forward to map a path across the buildings, his claws helping him move closer to the sky. He heard your uncontrollable laughter, he wished he could see your eyes light up brighter than the moon above, and he envied the wind that brushed your face and hair.

This was a good idea. This may be the single best thing he has done.

“Where are we going?” you whispered, tightening your arms around his neck.

“You’ll see. Hold on tight.”

Miles kicked his feet against the brick wall to hoist himself a good distance upward before forcing his claws through the concrete. He pressed the hand on the low of your back into his body, keeping you steady in one arm. You couldn’t bear to look around at the height you were stuck in, but the arm strength Miles has to support two weights while climbing up a tall building with one arm was surprising and, dare you say, attractive.

The skyscraper was a place Miles hadn’t visited since ‘your’ death. Being here with you now did not make him feel better. He was careful where he stood on the edge of the highest point of the building; he wanted you to look over the bright borough.

“Oh, no way! You brought me to the skyscraper?” you exclaimed, looking up at him. “You always said no when I wanted to come here.”

“I got reasons,” he huffed out quietly. Upon your silence, he peered down from the night view and saw you staring at him expectantly. He barely rolled his eyes in defeat. “You died here. You fell.”

The high-pitched hum you let out was comedically timed. Rigidly turning your head to face out, you could only imagine the exact height of this skyscraper as you could not see below the horizon. No wonder he didn’t let you on the ground—this would be one hell of a fall if history repeats itself. Miles chuckled lowly when you curled your arms tighter around his neck and slumped your weight further into him. You echoed his chuckle.

“Well,” you muttered, “definitely not letting go of you anytime sooner.”

“I’m not gonna either,” he said.

A sudden gust of wind blew at your face. You leaned closer to his neck for warmth, your eyes squinting at the building lights. It was too late into the night for the borough to remain bustling as in the morning, but the illumination from apartments, stores, and other high buildings made an equally homey view. The silence was enjoyable, too; just the open air and the inner sound of you counting your breath.

“Was it embarrassing?” you asked suddenly, your voice hoarse.

“What is?”

“Me falling? I don’t know��“ your body shifted upward, forcing Miles to adjust to your new position–“did I look weird when falling? Did you see me fall? Did anyone see me fall–oh my god, were the police here?”

“I’m sorry. Where is this coming from?” he asked with a confused deadpan. “What are you even saying? None of that matters?”

“It actually does matter because I feel–“ you sucked in a deep breath dramatically–“I don’t like having too much attention on me, and if the police came, I feel that would be very awkward.”

“You trippin’.” He rolled his eyes.

“What? That’s very valid!” You knocked your fist on the back of his shoulder. “Did I look weird when I landed? Did you see it? Did my brain splatter–“ You quieted down with an opened mouth when he flashed you a pointed look, but several suppressed giggles periodically left your lips as you moved your hands from his neck to cup his face. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put that thought in your head! Don’t think about that!”

Miles’s eyes softened. He wanted to kiss the laugh lines around your mouth. “I wasn’t thinking about that.”

You breathed out the last of your giggles and then stared at him. He was thinking about you even with you here—you knew, you knew very well. Your fingers grew timid at his stare, but they refused to leave the curve of his face. They could only ghost across his skin in freckled spots, treating him with the care he has given you. Miles barely leaned into your touch. He tested the water first, afraid that you would pull away at his immediate engagement, and he fully pressed his palm to your hand when you kept it where it was.

You brought his face to yours. “Hey!” you whispered with a soft grin when your nose touched.

“Hey,” he returned. He was soft. You’ve made him soft, made him a messenger of affection. “Your hands are cold.”

“I know.”

You pursed your lips at the feeling of his nose scraping past the bridge of yours. He was leaning closer, inviting you to something more intimidating than standing on the edge of a skyscraper.

“Miles.” your voice was hushed. “Miles, I’m shy. Can you kiss me first?”

He leaned forward to kiss you after dropping a relieved sigh. You closed your eyes at the sheer force of his desperation, your hands mustering up the courage to grip his face tighter and bring him to you. The taste of your lips cascaded over his conscience. You hit him, like a ton of bricks, like the feeling of flesh wrapped around a blade, like being in the center of a firework explosion. It was a feeling he would trade anything for; one could ask him for a lifetime in return for a second of your lips on his.

“Woah! Did you forget you’re on the run, Miles?”

“Oh, jeez! Mayday, don’t look!”

You two broke away immediately at the uninvited voices. Miles puffed air into his cheeks with an eye roll, not even attempting to hide how irritated he was at the interruption. Still heaving from the kiss, your brows furrowed when you came face to face with four outrageously different-sized figures, all dressed in a variation of a Spider suit, with a literal toddler wearing a Spiderman mask too small for her head.

“Who…?” you started slowly. “Spidermen…? Spiderman’s sidekicks?”

“Now that’s just disrespectful,” the one with spikes on his head commented.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you muttered in response.

“Who are you guys?” Miles asked defensively as he took a few steps back. He held you closer to him, his knees barely buckling in preparation to run.

“How could you forget your mentor, Miles?” The man took off his mask and opened his arms as an introduction. “It’s me! Peter!”

“Oh my god, it’s Spiderman.” You slapped Miles’s chest to be let down on the ground, but he refused. Although his hair color changed, and he looked relatively scruffier than you remembered on the news, those features could not be mistaken. That was the face of the superhero you grew up seeing. “I thought you died. It was all over the news!”

“How could I be standing here if I died?”

“You know him?” Miles questioned. “I don’t know him.”

“Apparently not?” you mumbled. “Maybe he faked his death somehow?”

“Wait, what about me? You remember me! It’s Pavitr? We fought together! You saved my girlfriend’s dad, Inspector Singh?” He pointed over to his friends, his hair bouncing lusciously. “With Gwen and Hobie?”

“Gwen?” you and Mils exclaimed in unison. Her eyes widened at the sudden collective attention.

“Dude, what are you wearing?”

“Gwen, you’re a Spiderman–err, woman?”

“Okay, you’re seriously playing up the Spiderman jokes?” Miles deadpanned as he arched his neck to look at you.

You pulled a face before swinging your arms to gesture at five newcomers. “They’re literally here. Spiders, all of them!”

“I’ve never seen spiders stand on two feet.”

“Clearly, you haven’t seen a lot.”

Miles sniffed with distaste. “Right. I’m gonna listen to someone with spikes on their head.”

“Miles!” you exclaimed with a harsh pinch to his cheek, then you turned to apologize. “I’m sorry. I think they look super cool.”

Taking a step forward, Gwen promptly eliminated the ongoing conversation by taking off her mask to reveal herself to you both. You tilted your head. She looked nothing like the Gwen you knew, and from her furrowed brows and darting eyes, she knew too. After a prolonged stare between you and Miles, the puzzles in her head piecing together, her relieved sigh was barely noticeable as realization hit her. She turned to her team with a shake of her head.

“This isn’t the Miles we’re looking for,” she said. “This is Miles from this Earth.”

“I knew that already,” Hobie smirked, hands in his pockets. “With the braids and all.”

Pavitr gasped with widening eyes. He pressed a hand to his chin and nodded. “Oh wow, I didn’t even register that. You look good, Miles!”

You punched Miles’s chest when he kept a brooding silence. He scoffed, smacked his teeth in dismay, then slurred out, “Thanks.”

“Okay, wait! Hold on, hold on!” Peter yelled without having gathered his thoughts. He shifted the weight of his legs, leaning on one hip, and pinched the bridge of his nose as a monotonous thinking noise churched out of his throat in a flat line. “But how? Our watch told us he was here. It gave us the signal that someone from Earth-1610 is here.”

“Someone is,” Gwen said. She turned around slowly, a look of uncertainty, then she pointed at you. “It’s them.”

None of them explicitly explained what they were talking about, but using your experiences and the confusing context clues, you could easily decipher the problem's gist. Something was happening on a multi-universal level. You didn’t know what exactly, but this felt to be a problem regarding that.

“Gwen, I know you thought you explained the issue but you didn’t,” Peter muttered. He whipped his body around to you and held both hands in the air in a chopping motion. “Are you a Spiderman?”

“No.”

“Not you, big guy. You!”

“Oh, me?” You pointed at yourself for clarification and shook your head. “No, but there is one where I came from. Technically there are two, but the original one died, and he looked almost exactly like you! Just different hair color and… ski–never mind.”

“First of all, I had a feeling you were gonna call me fat. I’m not. I just look like a dad now, which I am. I have to clarify, okay? This is all dad weight, and this cutie-pie is my daughter, Mayday!” Peter said as he gestured toward himself and at Mayday. Then, he burst into a fit of confused noises. “Second, where you came from?” he repeated after you incredulously, paused for a brief moment, and then turned to Gwen, his eyes rolling. “Okay, yeah. I think I know what you’re talking about.”

“Psst… what are they talking about?” Pavitr whispered from the side, unknowingly having inched closer toward Hobie, who leaned down to his height for an explanation.

“That lad is Miles’s lookalike from this Earth. The one he’s clutching to him like a madman is from our Miles’s Earth, which is bonkers 'cause how did they even get here?”

“They’re not from here?” Pavitr widened his eyes. “That’s not good!”

“How so?” Hobie stood up straight.

“Oh, you know, with Miguel and everything,” Pavitr said as he twiddled his thumbs. “Actually, maybe not! I’m sure Miguel isn’t that obsessed about all of this.”

Just after his voice dropped, a portal emerged from behind where Miles stood. The second he noticed the faint glow flashing over his shadow, he jumped away to stand with the newcomers he was still wrecking his brain to familiarize himself with. You stared at the portal with wide eyes. Not once in your life have you seen technology like this, and when you glanced over at the others, you could see a certain dread on their face that peaked your heart rate. What got a bunch of Spider-people so agitated? It must be a real threat.

“Won’t you look at that,” Miguel appeared from the portal, his eyes looking as dead as usual. Following behind him were Jessica and Ben. “The whole gang is here.”

"How did you even find us?" Peter exclaimed in annoyance.

"Your watch, obviously." Miguel pointed at Peter's chest. "Your daughter took it.”

Peter gasped as he looked down at Mayday. He didn't notice it before, but sitting loosely around her wrist was the watch Miguel gave him that he took off before Gwen came to find him. He squeezed his eyes shut—shame on him for letting the same thing happen twice, even though neither was technically his fault.

Hobie breathed out a chuckle at Mayday before he elbowed Pavitr. “Do whatever you want, but I’m telling ya, you got to watch out for the things you say. You’re gonna jinx up the whole place like this.” Bringing his leg up so he could march over to Miles and stand behind him, he bent forward until his face was within Miles's earshot. "I suggest you run home now."

"What? Why?" Miles whispered, stepping away from the proximity. His attention shifted when Peter's obnoxious voice rang through the air.

"Jesus, Miguel! What do you want now?"

"The same thing you all want," Miguel said as he rubbed his wrist. He snapped his head over at Miles, who gulped when his gaze averted to look at you. He stared for a bit too long. "People who are not supposed to be here."

You. That man was talking about you. Miles didn't know what business he had. If anything, he thought himself a much bigger threat. But Miguel was looking at you when he spoke, so it must be.

He bolted the second he made that conclusion. He would deal with it if he later discovered he had come to the wrong one. For now, with the warning from a man whose words he could barely understand and a bunch of context clues he haphazardly strung together on the fly, he was unwilling to take any risk that would make him lose you. Wrapping his arms around your body to hold you into a hug rather than a carry, he instructed you to hang tight and took a few bold steps backward to the skyscraper edge so he could drop off its height.

"Wait, hold on, Miguel!" Peter shot his arm out to squeeze Miguel's shoulder when he saw that Miles would be followed. "You're after the wr–"

"Peter!" Gwen shot out a web aimed at Peter's back and immediately pulled him away from Miguel, preventing the man from telling the truth. Taking the slipping chance, the three slipped past in pursuit of you and Miles.

"What are you doing?" Peter asked incredulously, his eyes following the fading backs of his once colleagues.

Pavitr and Hobie approached them to catch up on their conversation.

"Let Miguel chase him," she said sternly, her eyes fixated on Peter. "It works in our favor that he is occupied with the wrong Miles. It buys us some time to find our Miles."

Peter opened his mouth to speak, but no thoughts leaked out. Gwen's logic was sweet and sound. It would make everything so much easier for them if Miguel was temporarily out of the picture. But there was a pierce he felt, through his supposed moral compass, not at the blatant lie of omission he has to tell but at the fact that he would willingly send a grown man after two children, one of whom was just an ordinary civilian.

"Gwen, I don't feel like that's the right thing to do," he sighed.

"Maybe we can try to help both of them?" Pavitr suggested. "We can find Miles as fast as we can and then help the other Miles."

"They won't last," Peter said. "I don't know if that Miles has superpowers, but he's definitely not like us. I don't think their friend is capable of anything, either. Miguel will get to them before we can be done."

"You're saying if we want to help, we ought to do it now," Hobie sniffed.

"That's what I just said."

"I know. I was just repeatin' it."

"We can't afford to be distracted!" Gwen argued, her tone releasing from being firm to a pathetic, exasperated plead. "Don't forget, you're the one who exposed Miles's location in the first place. And now you've exposed ours!"

"Woah–Gwendy, calm down," Hobie said with a light pat on her shoulder. He spun to face Peter, humming at his distraught expression, then turned to meet in a general direction. "We're wasting an awful lotta time arguing about nothing. How about we get a move on, yeah? Pavitr's plan might work if we go now.”

"Yeah! I agree!" Pavitr clapped in agreement. “We just need to go in quick and come out even quicker!"

“That made no sense,” Peter mumbled.

“Maybe not to you.” Hobie shrugged.

“Focus, you guys!” Gwen hollered over the wind, catching everyone’s attention. She pursed her lips, her mind filled with a singular goal: save Miles Morales. “I’m going regardless of what you say," she said as she stepped to the edge of the skyscraper. Before she tipped over, she added, "I'm gonna save my Miles."

"Dramatic," Hobie chuckled with big strides forward, seemingly to follow after Gwen. "Better catch up, lads." He clicked his tongue confidently and mocked a salute as he fell off the edge.

Miles was on the run. You already knew, but that fact punched you in the guts with even more velocity when you realized how quickly your surroundings were passing through. He was no longer holding you in an embrace-like position. After he made it down the skyscraper, Miles hoisted your upper body over his shoulder with his arms circled around your waist so he could better run at his regular speed, which you learned was abnormally fast, much different than the speed he picked when he was strolling around the area.

Closing up behind you was a man in a Spider suit furiously galloping on all fours. You didn't even know they ran like that. You thought all Spider-people swung with their webs. Running like this may be faster than swinging around. Or perhaps the man's sheer will to catch the two of you amped up his speed. The only reason why Miles was able to periodically distance from Miguel was that he knew this Brooklyn like the back of his palm; all the detours and shortcuts were mapped in his brain, and he knew how to properly mix and match their usage.

"Miles, he's crazy," you whispered, clutching his shoulders. "He's running like a wolf."

"Tu puta madre–" he spared a glance back and widened his eyes–"why is he chasing us? What did we even do?"

Hopping off a building and into an alleyway, Miles slipped to the side and hid behind a wall. He pressed his back against the concrete wall to hide behind the shadow.

The more he ran, the more he saw how it only delayed the consequence of getting caught. He could run home as suggested, but bringing trouble directly to his mother wasn’t ideal. On top of that, it may expose his prowler identity, which was the last thing he wanted. He could keep running, but eventually, he would get tired. He wouldn’t overestimate his ability to escape; a man that size running on all fours has the kind of stamina he could not rival. He had to fight with gimmicks to win, and his first option was to hide.

Taking the time to reposition you on his shoulder, apologizing with amusement when you shivered at his hands gliding past your hips to your waist, Miles carefully placed you back on the ground. When your feet hit the ground, he reached for the crown of your head, squeezing your head and trailing both hands down to your face. He pushed your face together, forcing you to pucker your lips. This was supposed to be a fun night. He felt terrible that this was how things led to.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, smoothing his thumbs over your cheeks. “Are you okay?”

For the time being, you felt like you could be. His hands were warm, and his touch even warmer.

“I’m sorry. This is my fault.” You smiled bitterly once he let go of your face. “He’s here for me, but I don’t know why.”

You haven’t done anything. Even arriving on this Earth was not a purposeful doing. You made no significant changes to this Brooklyn; even if you tried to, you would not have succeeded. You regularly lived as you would have in the universe you came from; staying at home, doing house chores, learning how to cook, getting groceries, watching movies, maintaining a good friendship, and falling in love. None of those were criminal activities! You have done nothing remarkable for a random Spiderman to get so upset with you!

“Be honest, [Name],” Miles started, touching your shoulders. He took a deep breath before squinting. “Are you secretly a world-class criminal?”

“If jumping universes is a crime, then–“ You hummed thoughtfully before shaking your head in disagreement. “Yeah, no. I’d just be a regular criminal because I only jumped once, and it’s by accident, too.”

“Actually, I never asked, but how did you get here?”

You suppressed a burst of laughter. “Are we seriously gonna talk about this now?”

“My bad,” he held his hands up in mock surrender, “is now a bad time?”

“A super bad–“ You screamed when a figure abruptly slid upside down beside you. Instinctively, the hand initially reaching for Miles’s face deflected from its path to punch the intruder in the face.

Ben swung slightly on his web, a curse pushed out of his mouth at the impact of your fist. He hadn’t registered you to be a big enough threat that he failed to block your sudden attack. If it had been Miles’s gloved claws swinging at him, he likely would have reacted. Miles smirked, almost feeling a sense of pride at the sheer strength of your punch. While you profusely apologized for doing something you didn’t mean to do, he grabbed your hand and ran down the alleyway. Mid-way through, he tugged harshly at your arm to bring you in front of him so he could scoop you up as he picked up his speed.

“I can actually run pretty fast,” you complained lightheartedly.

“For sure, baby,” he mused, his feet screeching for an abrupt right turn when he heard Ben’s voice calling after you both.

However, just as he turned a corner, he was met with the wheel end of a motorcycle. Miles raised a hand up to grip the spinning tire. Before he could dig his claws through the material and pop it, he felt himself being pushed back by the heavy force, so he, tensing his arm muscles, attempted to deter the bike's path before the millisecond of him getting thrown back. His back hit a brick wall, knocking his senses everywhere for a brief moment as he haphazardly reached to cover your head. When he looked up, he was only met with the yellow shades of a woman in red. He huffed; if there was any indication that these people were getting fed up, it would be hitting him with a motorcycle.

“Jessica. You caught them!” Ben exclaimed as he emerged from the shadow, a hand massaging his chin that was pulled into a sneer. His voice was weirdly raspy as if he was playing up a character. “That stupid kid punched me. How dare they.”

“You showed up out of nowhere!” you retorted with an accusing finger pointed at him. “Also, shouldn’t you be able to block my punch? You’re Spiderman! You can’t block a punch from a teenager?”

“This kid is talking back to me. I feel a little distraught. I don’t know how to talk to children.”

“Shut up, Ben.” Jessica waved her hand before she turned to you both. She observed as Miles hopped back to his feet and glared at her. You looked less menacing, but your furrowed brows spoke caution and ready disobedience. She sighed. Another pair of moody teenagers. Miguel would not be happy about this. “Look, we don’t have time for this. You need to go back to where you belong.”

You pursed your lips in dismay and shook your head. Miles pushed you toward him when you circled your arms around his neck, and you slightly averted your gaze from the woman to avoid confrontation. Jessica squinted her eyes at the way you two held each other, a sudden inkling developing that she desperately wished to be wrong—you fell in love with someone from a different universe. She already felt bad enough about what had to be done to Gwen. There was no wrong in sticking to what she believed in. It was just unfortunate that she had to treat teenagers mercilessly to do so.

“You two can write letters to each other,” she said after gathering her thoughts and reverting to professionalism. Her job was to return all anomalies to their world, not limited to villains. Getting off her motorcycle, she slowly walked over to Miles, who didn’t get the sense of running away because of her regular speed. When she was within an arm’s length, she grabbed your arm. “We’re leaving.”

“No!” you refused and tried to shove her off, but she was persistent.

“Dude, stop!” Miles attempted to step out of reach.

“Dude?” Jessica repeated with wide eyes. “Your mama taught you no manners?”

“His mom is great!” you exclaimed as you snatched your arm away from her grip. Your irritated eyes turned into a glare.

Miles nodded. “Yeah, she doesn’t throw a motorcycle at people’s faces.”

“Okay, I’ve had it.” Jessica laughed in disbelief. “I was trying to be nice, but that’s out the window now.”

Deciding to ignore her harsh tugs at your arm, you resorted to making sure you never let go of Miles instead. You intertwined your fingers that met at a point of his neck and buried your face to his shoulders, tuning out the world. Fear lingered in your chest like a haunting ghost, and it dimmed somewhat when you zeroed in on the feeling of Miles’s grip on your body. You were still here. He was still with you, holding onto you with a death grip. And you thought this might resolve itself eventually. Maybe these people would let you go if you two struggled enough together. Or perhaps it wouldn’t end well, but at least you held on as best as possible. At least you tried.

“Miles Morales.” Everyone paused to look behind Jessica’s shoulder. Miguel stood tall and alarmingly brutal just a few feet away. His dead eyes shifted from the boy to you, and he tipped his head into a brief greeting. “And you.”

Jessica took a deep breath; the real threat finally showed up. She released her hand from your arm and turned to face Miguel. There was something she wanted to say, not to deter Miguel from his plan to take you back to your Earth, but rather a few trying words to prevent him from executing any more brutality, especially when you were as harmless as a dove. The last thing Miguel should have on his conscience was inflicting injuries on a regular civilian. It would be good for him in the long run. Before she could open her mouth to speak, though, Miles buckled his knees and jumped up high. He was making a run for it again, but before his feet even touched the top of the wall separating the streets, his body barely turning away from anyone, a red string caught onto your wrist and snapped you out of his arms.

“¡Mierda!”

He caught onto your ankles, engaging in a tug-of-war with Miguel that did nothing but put a strain on your limbs. Clicking his tongue, he gave one final hard tug at your feet before letting you go. You screamed, your body swinging toward Miguel at full speed while Miles, fully utilizing his boots, ran to sneak up behind the man and shoved him forward so Miguel would collide with your flinging body. Letting Miguel stumble in confusion and, out of instinct, reaching his arms out to catch you from a hard fall, Miles jumped forward and did the job for him. He secured you in his arms, wasting no time to bolt away. But Miguel was phenomenally quick to regain his senses, and his eyes glowed a bright red once he realized how difficult Miles was being.

He leaped forward, fangs and claws out to grab Miles by the back of his neck. As he swung the boy around, you dropped to the floor and knocked your forehead against the dirt. Miguel slammed Miles into the closest wall, denting the red bricks. He squeezes the poor boy's neck, not entirely cutting the air out of his system but suffocating just enough to make Miles feel outrageously uncomfortable.

"Ay, would you stop that, big man? You're gonna kill the kid!"

White webs shot out and attached to each of Miguel's wrists. He could recognize that godforsaken voice anywhere—Hobie Brown. Noticing the webs on his wrists, he groaned lowly in irritation. He might just snap (if he hasn't already, this madman) if he has to come across one more obstacle. Not allowing Hobie a second to pull him away, Miguel squeezed Miles's neck tighter to pull him out of the dented wall and threw him across the alleyway to the other side. The collision collapsed a hole through the bricks, creating an unnecessary ruckus.

"Now you've gone and done it," Hobie muttered, looking at the destruction.

Your jaw dropped anxiously. You could faintly see Miles under the debris, showing no signs of getting up. He couldn't have died. Not only would that become a personal problem, you simply refused to believe a childhood superhero figure would kill someone you know and love. Scrambling to your feet with quickened breath, you took a weak step forward, his name hanging quietly at the tip of your tongue. When he didn't respond still, you tried to run towards him only to be pulled back at your wrist.

You looked behind your shoulder to find Miguel facing away from you. His grip on your wrist was firm, almost bone-breaking, to serve a warning. The same portal you saw him arrive in opened up, creating a gust of unnatural wind, and he was pulling you toward it. You attempted to break away, but he was much stronger. Nobody around seemed to be able to help you, not even Punk-looking Spiderman, so the only thing left to do was to hyperventilate for sympathy. This felt like an impending doom, where doom was actually just a few steps away on the other side of a portal.

"Wait, please don't do this. I don't want to go home. I want to stay here!" you cried, a migraine developing from how you kept turning back and forth to look at Miguel and Miles. "Why are you doing this to me? Please stop, please!"

Sympathy rested in the hands of those who couldn't help. Miguel was as stoic as a rock to your pleads, and you somehow expected him to be. It was just heartbreaking to be proven right how difficult things could get. You kept sucking in deep breaths and forgetting to release them, causing your chest to expand awkwardly. You didn't know what to do, but you've got to try something! Anything!

"Wait–I haven't said it! I haven't–" a deep breath–"I haven't said goodbye! I haven't said I love you! Let me say goodbye, and I promise–" another deep breath–"I promise I'll leave with you. Please. I promise, I cross my heart."

Miguel paused, and that mere action took everyone aback. He pursed his lips, a flicker of remorseful nostalgia showing in his eyes as he recalled the sudden death of his daughter. You didn't remind him of himself, but your wish was similar to what he would have asked for if he ever could re-experience the tragedy—he would want to say goodbye. He would like to tell his daughter he loved her. Heaving a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. At least you were cooperative; he felt he could be kinder in this case.

"Do not try anything stupid."

Once Miguel released your hand, you ran and fell on your knees next to Miles. Pushing the debris off his body, you scooped him onto your lap and caressed his face. Sniffing away a tearful voice, your voice ended croaking anyway when you called his name, "Miles?"

He opened his eyes meekly to see doubles. It took him a good minute to concentrate on your face, and he smirked when he did. The first instinct to take you and run away was defeated by a pained back and exhausted legs. He would not overestimate his ability, even through immense desperation. He wouldn’t get both of you far enough to not get served something worse. This appeared to be it.

”Mi cariño. Hey."

You laughed; you still had no idea what that meant. Miles refused to tell you, and he also got his mom in on it. But you figured it was a term of endearment. Miles took off his gloves to hold your hand, pressing your palm to his face as he stared at you. Somehow, he couldn't muster up the courage to cry despite the continuous drops in his chest. It could be a pride issue, or he didn't want you to see him suffer in your last minute together. Last for now, at least.

"You're going to leave me," he acknowledged.

"Not on purpose," you replied.

“I know,” he hummed. “You love me too much to do that.”

He had thought about it before. There must be people you were dying to go back to in your world. Not a classmate, no. Not even a friend. But a parent, perhaps? Family members? A pet, certainly? There has to be something waiting for you back in your home. There was no method for you to jump universes yet, but Miles figured if you were raging to go home, it would show. The fact that you blended into his life so casually and permanently, to a point where you memorized his schedules and knew where little trinkets were located in his apartment, told him you chose him over the life you used to have. Every day you woke up, you preferred a life with him in it rather than what you had before.

“You do love me, right?” Miles asked for assurance, his brows furrowing. “I didn’t hallucinate that.”

You squeezed his cheeks—gentle palms over bloodied skin, gentle palms over gentle skin. No more violence, not more crimes. He was but a boy you loved. He doubts your affection, and you would go home with him burned in the back of your head, finding his touch trapped beneath your flesh once stripped naked. From a universe away, Miles was all you would remember. Smiling, you peppered kisses over his brows, his eyes, his nose, and finally his mouth. When you pressed your forehead against his, you scrunched your nose and nodded.

“I do love you, Miles.”

“Yay, score.” He chuckled, then his voice quieted down to a low hum only meant for you to hear. “I love you too, okay? Aqui y allá, mi corazón es tuyo.”

“Time to go, kid!”

You smacked your lips and puffed an exhale. Running your knuckles down the side of Miles’s face, you nodded to yourself as an encouragement to get on your feet. Your feet budged, then your knees, but instead of standing up, you only shrunk your body closer toward Miles. You willed your voice to say a farewell, but it couldn’t under the threat that this goodbye would be your absolute last one, so you cried instead. Fat tears silently rolled down your chin, caught on your tongue, and forced you to choke on them.

Jessica rubbed her eyes as soon as her voice dropped. She shouldn’t have let Miguel talk her into breaking the moment. Instead of moving, you only leaned your body down and pressed Miles to your chest, hugging him. A passive protest, perhaps. You were not directly struggling but weren’t listening to them, either. She eyed Miguel when he sighed in defeat. He wondered which one was worse—chasing a rebellious kid with Spiderman powers or this. This one sure made him feel like the bad guy if anything.

He reached for a portable trap box and threw it toward you without hesitation. Before it could reach you, though, a web shot out and pulled it backward, causing the gadget hit Miguel in the face.

“You need to reconsider your morals,” Hobie said in a scolding tone as he walked up from behind everyone. “Trapping a kid in a box. Are you mental?”

He has been watching everything unfold from the shadows, and clearly, he realized the differences in how he saw you and how the other three saw you. Your lack of cooperation was a sign of rebellion, which could be considered so to a certain degree. But Hobie knew to consider other factors; he looked at the bigger picture. There was nothing you could do here, literally. One web shoot and you’d be caught, and you probably already knew that. Your so-called sign of rebellion was less chosen and more forced by the hands of emotional turmoil. You were about to be separated from the boy you were in love with. It would make sense that you were physically unable to be the person to walk away.

If you were going to leave Miles Morales, you must be taken and nothing else. You stood by not leaving him intentionally. Miguel was going to do that for you, but Hobie decided to take a much gentler approach. Trapping you in a box when you’ve done nothing wrong was, as he said, fucking mental.

“Don’t struggle, yeah? It makes me uncomfortable,” Hobie muttered as he reached for your waist and pulled you up. He slapped his hands on your shoulders dramatically and turned you around. “The portal is gonna feel doozy. You might vomit. If you feel like you’ll vomit, do it when we arrive at HQ. Preferably all over the floor. Just splatter it around like a sprinkler.”

“Huh…?” You did a double-take at what he said. “That’s disgusting.”

“Vomiting? Yeah. Vomiting on an establishment?” He hummed and tilted his head. “Debatable.”

“I’m sorry, but I really am having a hard time understanding you, Spiderman,” you said, your sobs increasing because you thought Hobie might take it as an insult.

“Why are you apologizing? You haven’t said anything you shouldn’t,” he said, the panic in his voice unnoticeable. “Also, call me Hobie, not Spiderman.”

“I’m sorry,” you squeezed your eyes as if to produce more tears, “I know that’s your name. I just didn’t use it because we’re not close.”

“Don’t be silly,” Hobie mused, a hand slipping from the top of your head as a makeshift pat. “I’m more friends with you than those three over there.”

You let the faintest giggle of disbelief escape your lips and turned back to Miles. Hobie continued to pull you away from the floor and toward the portal, not taking a moment’s rest. You didn’t struggle against him; eventually, your hand slipped from Miles’s.

#no because i can't believe i actually gone through with this #miles morales imagine #miles morales x you #miles morales x y/n #earth 42 miles x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 miles fluff

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noctivague · 9 months ago

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Pick a Card: Which patterns or beliefs do you need to release?

I still have a few free readings to go through but I felt like doing on of those pick a card/pile reading because ngl I consume a lot of them recently and they surprisingly work..?

Topic of the day is: Which patterns or beliefs do you need to release?

I don't care about likes are reblogs, but if you could tell me what pile you got and if it resonated, that'd be great!

How does it work?

Look at the picture, select the one that draws you in the most and go read your pile. Take what resonates and leave out the rest. These readings are meant for multiple people so all details might not resonates with your situation.

PILE 1

Cards: 9 of Swords + 7 of Cups; 3 of Cups + The Ocean; First Light: "Beginning a new Cycle" + Aletheia: Truth

There is an intense sense of inner worry, tension and despair, might even keep you up at night or give you nightmares. You have a tendency to daydream or over-focus on various things as a way to distract yourself from the situation. Like a magpie going for one shiny thing to the next, never feeling fully satisfied or stopping to settle mentally anywhere. You running away from your feelings as a coping mechanism and indulging in escapist tendencies.

The pattern in question seems to be excessive indulgence, may be partying. I see something that involves more than you, in any case. Perhaps you are using relationships/social stuations or substances. Either that, or I'm getting that some of you might be stuck in a toxic relationship or some kind.

I see you drowning yourself in harmful behaviors or situations in order not to face your emotions, over-relying on your ego, in other words, staying on the surface of the waters of your self and avoiding to look inside the murky waters.

The advice on how to release is to accept that a new cycle is starting, which implies the death of something old and rotten and the beginning of something new. Face your fears of the unknown and embrace the new cycle you are called to step into. Winter is melting away and spring is just around the corner, as long as you're willing to step into it!

You need to reconnect with your deeper self, face your own truth in order to embrace a life of authenticity and a greater sense of health (mental, emotional and physical). How are you lying to yourself? Don't make excuses, don't gaslight yourself. There is a sense that you not only need to realize that, but you also need to make a act of truth. That can be changing your behavior or acting towards something that's good for you.

PILE 2

Cards: Temperance (reversed) + 8 of Wands (reversed); 7 of Wands + Kairos "Mythical Time" + The Threshold (reversed) + The Lovers (reversed); The Chariot (reversed) + Wise Leader "You are a beacon for others"

You are currently feeling completely depleted and in need of a good rest. You also feel like there is no movement in your life, that you are stagnant, unmotivated and exhausted. You balance is out of whack and no matter what you do it seems you can never bring your energy levels back up.

The pattern to be released is your stubbornness to fight through everything with sheer willpower alone, which is not possible since your inner fire is depleted. You are also in some way trying to prove other people something but it's suffocating you. There is a sense that you are fighting against the timely order of things, that you are not accepting that some things take time and patience to progress and change. You are being asked to change your ways but there is a great rigidity coming from you when it comes to that. The Lovers here I think indicate a choice of you to do things differently that you are refusing to make, which causes disharmony and imbalance between the different parts of yourself. Perhaps the core issue is also you trying to keep a balance between you and other people, but it's a very toxic situation because you are sacrificing yourself in the process.

You can face this pattern by releasing your underlying fear of failure that is pushing you to run yourself on overdrive. There is also a sense that you are indecisive and struggling to make the choices that will bring back into balance (also indicated by the Lovers). I get the sense that your restless energy is making you run around in circles, completely wasting your sense of direction.

The overall advice is to grab the reins of your life, be your own leader and stop trying to please others and compare yourself to unattainable standards. You need to take care of yourself first and foremost, listen to your own rhythm. Life is not a race and you've got time to figure your shit out, but you need to heal yourself first.

PILE 3

Cards: 2 of Wands + Queen of Wands; 7 of Swords (reversed) + The Temple + The Underworld; Page of Cups (reversed) + Choosing your Path "All is possible" + Wondrous Universe "Walk in Beauty"

Just a heads up but I feel like this is the spiritual pile.

Your current situation is that you are seeking something that is missing, be it some type of truth about yourself or the universe. However it seems you are not in possession of your own power and you are looking in the wrong direction. The Queen of Wands is a really strong card signifying personal wisdom and power, but in this position, it's like you don't see it and you're giving it away. The cat is the only one who's looking forward so I get that deep down you know that something is not right, but it's buried deep within in the darkness.

When it comes to the pattern at hand, it seems you are not listening to your own inner voice and relying too much on external advice which might be misleading. Again, with the Temple I'm getting that you are looking in the wrong direction, that you are not listening to yourself and your own guidance but rather focusing on something that is untrue for you. Perhaps even you are relying on your spirituality too much and it's making you lose touch with your physical life. The Underworld signals being in denial about the warning signs about this situation and that you are avoiding walking on your own path.

The advice on how to release that pattern is to stop over-relying on external spiritual wisdom. You might need to detach yourself from a negative influence.

Remember that you are free and that you should not accept the rules and expectations placed on yourself by others. You need to move forward and embrace the infinite form of goodness of life that you seem to have forgotten. Reclaim your power. There is beauty all around and within you and it's time to see it. Reconnect with the wonders of life, of nature, of love in all its form. Only then you'll be able to move foward again.

PILE 4

Cards: Justice + The Sun + Ace of Pentacles (reversed); The Moon + The Mirror; 3 of Pentacles (reversed) + Ascending the Mountain "Keep going forward" + Wise Leader "You are a beacon to others"

It seems you are struggling to make a decision and seizing the opportunities offered to you. I get a sense that you are overly positive about something in a slightly delusional way and you are struggling to have a balanced outlook on your situation, which is making you miss out on something else that's actually beneficial for you. The Sun is usually a super positive card but in this context, I feel like the light is so bright that what you see is becoming hard to see and out of focus.

What needs to be released is signified by the Moon, which again speaks of illusions cast by yourself and your beliefs. This is also shown by the mirror. Mirror can shatter and distort reality, so I think this is really speaking of something you're currently doing or believing that is not real. You are failing to see the truth of the situation.

The way to release that is to realize that you need to be willing to open up, be truthful with yourself and learn from your mistakes. All hope is not lost though, far from that! You have the strength to carry through, you just need to find the determination to move forward and put in the work and diligence. You might not make a linear progress and feel like you're making three steps forward and two steps back, but you must continue regardless.

Don't hold back and honor your truth. There is a well of wisdom within you but you need to be willing to tap into in, be brave, and make the decision to shatter the lies you either tell yourself or are being told. At the end of the day you are the one in charge, you are the one in power, but you need to learn to be truthful, authentic, and make informed decisions.

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot reading #pick a picture #pac reading #pac tarot #pick an image #tarot

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thequeenofneverland1 · 13 days ago

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Damon and Stefan Salvatore//// In the shallow of Katherine Pierce

Anonymous request: hi. Can you do where y/n is the twin of Elena but in reality she’s the daughter of katherine and the Salvatores likes her

Warnings:Emotional Distress, Threats of Violence:, Supernatural Themes, Family Dynamics, Romantic Tension and Self-Discovery.

growing up as Elena Gilbert’s twin, sharing every birthday, holiday, and milestone side-by-side. On the surface, you two were inseparable, sharing everything from a room to friends. But there was always something different about you, something unspoken that hovered in the background like a shadow. You couldn’t explain it, yet the feeling never left. It was as though some invisible thread tethered you to a part of yourself no one else could see.

You kept secrets, even from Elena. Small things, at first, hidden moments of intense emotion, instincts that flared up in ways you couldn’t explain. You were tougher, sharper, with a temper that burned quicker and brighter than hers. People noticed, joking that you must’ve inherited some kind of “Gilbert fire,” even if no one in your family was quite like you. Still, you brushed it off, thinking perhaps it was just part of being a twin, of having to share every part of yourself with someone else.

But as you grew older, whispers and rumors seemed to follow you in hushed tones. More than once, you caught adults exchanging glances, your name dropping like a slip of the tongue before they’d clear their throats and change the subject. Sometimes you’d catch a glimpse of someone in the crowd, a stranger with piercing eyes and a smirk that felt oddly familiar, and feel an inexplicable pull, only for them to disappear a moment later.

Then, when you encounter Katherine for the first time, you’re struck by how similar you feel to her. The way she moves, the way she thinks and schemes, it feels like looking in a twisted mirror. The feeling unnerves you, a strange resonance you can’t ignore. She stares at you with a knowing gleam, as if she sees right through you, and it unsettles you in a way nothing else ever has. But why would Katherine Pierce, the infamous vampire, care so much about you?

Unbeknownst to anyone, even Katherine, she had a second child, one that was taken from her while she was still on the run from Klaus Mikaelson, hidden away as a twin to Elena by those who feared her power and lineage. You have her blood, her cunning, and perhaps her destiny. But for now, that truth lies buried deep, waiting to surface in ways that could change everything.

The day Elena brings Damon and Stefan to meet you is quiet and warm, one of those rare moments when Mystic Falls feels almost normal. You don’t have many expectations; after all, you’ve heard enough about them to feel prepared. But the moment you open the door and see them, you’re struck by a strange, inexplicable familiarity.

Damon’s eyes rake over you with a flicker of recognition, a glimmer of something he’s not used to admitting: intrigue, maybe even a kind of awe. You know Damon’s reputation, his devil-may-care attitude, but in this moment, he seems almost taken aback, as if seeing a ghost he’s crossed paths with before. Stefan, though more composed, is no less surprised. He stares at you with that quiet intensity, the kind that feels like he’s searching for something hidden just under the surface.

There’s a heartbeat of silence, an unspoken something filling the air. You meet Damon’s gaze, holding it just a little too long, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. You have a feeling you’ve just accepted a silent invitation into a game he plays with far too few worthy opponents. And Stefan, with his thoughtful, steady eyes, looks at you like he’s trying to piece together a memory that won’t quite come into focus.

Elena notices the looks. She steps between you and them, the tension sharpening her voice as she blurts out, “Okay, why are you two looking at her like that?”

Damon glances at Stefan with a mischievous glint in his eyes, raising his eyebrows as if to say, Did you notice that too? Stefan, on the other hand, shifts his focus back to Elena, as if deciding on how much to reveal.

“It’s just… strange,” Stefan says finally. “It’s like we’ve met her before.”

Elena rolls her eyes, folding her arms defensively. “You haven’t met her. This is my sister. Not some long-lost friend of yours.”

Damon, never one to back down from a chance to stir the pot, leans casually against the doorframe and smirks. “Relax, Elena. It’s just a bit… eerie. It’s like I’m seeing something familiar, but in a way I can’t put my finger on.” His gaze flickers to you again, that flirtatious gleam in his eye making it clear he’s more than willing to investigate the mystery further.

Your heart skips a beat, a mixture of irritation and intrigue taking hold. You’re used to getting looks, but this, this is different. You match his stare, feeling the subtle weight of his intensity, realizing that whatever unspoken history you may or may not share with him, he seems determined to uncover it.

Elena huffs, moving a step closer to you as if to shield you from whatever games they might be playing. “Well, you don’t need to figure it out. She’s not a part of whatever mess you’re dealing with.”

Damon’s smirk widens, his gaze darting back to you. “Oh, but something tells me she can handle a little mess. Can’t you?”

You give him a small, sly smile, letting him know you’re more than capable of handling whatever he’s thinking. Stefan clears his throat, shooting Damon a warning look, but you can sense that even he’s still trying to decipher the strange familiarity he feels around you.

It’s a strange, charged moment, one that leaves you wondering if this pull between you and the Salvatores is merely a quirk of shared history, or if there’s something deeper, something neither you nor they fully understand. For now, all you know is that you have their attention in a way you hadn’t expected, and part of you can’t help but be drawn into the mystery just as much as they are.

In the dimly lit corner of the Mystic Grill, Elena sat across from Caroline, swirling her drink distractedly as she tried to find the right words. She hadn’t been able to shake the strange, almost protective feeling she’d been harboring since the moment Damon and Stefan first laid eyes on you. There was something in their expressions, something that had nagged at her from the start.

Caroline tilted her head, picking up on Elena’s discomfort. “What’s up? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

Elena let out a sigh, glancing around before leaning in. “It’s… it’s Y/N. Or, I guess, more like the way Damon and Stefan act around her.”

Caroline’s eyes widened, intrigued. “Oh? You think they have a thing for her?”

Elena bit her lip, unsure of how to explain. “I don’t know… it’s more complicated than that. Since that first day, the way they looked at her, almost like they’d met her before. Like they recognized something in her that they couldn’t shake.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. “Do you think it’s because she looks like you? I mean, you two are twins, after all.”

Elena shook her head, looking slightly frustrated. “Maybe… but it feels like more than that. Like they’re seeing something, or someone,they’ve lost. I’m worried they might be seeing Katherine in her.”

Caroline’s expression shifted to one of sympathy. “Elena, they’ve been through so much because of Katherine. But I don’t think they’d just start confusing the two of you. They know she’s your sister.”

Elena’s jaw tightened, her voice dropping to a near whisper. “It’s just… every time they’re around her, there’s this look, this intensity. I know they’re drawn to her, but I don’t want them to think that she’s Katherine. I want them to see her for who she really is.”

Caroline reached across the table, squeezing Elena’s hand reassuringly. “They know who Y/N is. She’s nothing like Katherine, and Damon and Stefan are smart enough to see that. They’re probably just a little… nostalgic, maybe? They’ve spent years haunted by memories of her, and seeing someone who reminds them of you, someone new, yet familiar, could stir up a lot.”

Elena nodded, though the worry in her eyes didn’t fully fade. “I just don’t want them to project their issues with Katherine onto her. Y/N deserves better than that. She’s not part of their past, she’s her own person.”

Caroline gave her a gentle smile, her voice firm. “And they’ll realize that, Elena. Besides, you’re not the only one watching out for her. They both care about you, and I don’t think they’d ever hurt her or use her as some replacement.”

Elena sighed, managing a small smile. “You’re right. I just… I just don’t want her getting caught up in all of this.”

Caroline nodded knowingly. “Trust me, you’re a great sister. And if Damon or Stefan start acting like idiots, we’ll set them straight.”

Elena chuckled, feeling some of the tension ease, knowing that no matter what, she had people looking out for her, and you

The Salvatore brothers returned to their grand, dimly lit boarding house, silence stretching between them. Each was lost in thought, still feeling the lingering effect of their encounter with you. Damon poured himself a glass of bourbon, his eyes distant as he swirled the amber liquid. Stefan, leaning against the doorway, finally broke the silence.

“She’s… she’s not like Elena,” Stefan murmured, almost to himself, though Damon heard every word.

Damon smirked, though his expression was more bitter than amused. “You noticed that too, huh?” He took a long sip, the warmth of the alcohol doing little to soften the twist of unease in his chest. “She’s got Katherine’s eyes, the same fire behind them. Like she knows more than she lets on.”

Stefan nodded, his mind drifting back to the way you’d looked at them, a flicker of recognition sparking in your gaze. It was the same feeling he used to get whenever Katherine looked his way: a sense that he was being seen, truly seen, with a level of intensity that went beyond the surface. The resemblance to Katherine was uncanny, not in looks alone, but in the subtleties of your expressions, the way your smile hinted at secrets neither brother could decipher.

“Did you… did you feel it too, Damon?” Stefan asked cautiously, his voice carrying an almost wistful tone. “Like we’ve met her before?” He knew it sounded absurd, but the connection felt strangely familiar, like your presence filled a void neither of them had realized was there.

Damon leaned back, exhaling sharply. “Yeah, but it’s more than that, Stefan. There’s something about her, like she’s the part of Katherine that got away, the part she kept hidden.” His jaw clenched as he recalled the nights he’d spent unraveling Katherine’s lies, searching for pieces of her that never quite fit together. Now, standing before you had felt like finding one of those missing pieces, resurrecting a part of him he thought had been buried with her.

“She isn’t Katherine,” Stefan reminded him, though the words sounded hollow even to his own ears. The intensity of Damon’s gaze as he spoke wasn’t lost on him. “But… there’s no denying the resemblance. It’s unsettling.”

Damon let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t think I know that? Believe me, I don’t need any reminders of who she isn’t.” He paused, swallowing his emotions. “But seeing her… it’s like being haunted by Katherine all over again.”

They both fell silent, wrestling with feelings neither could entirely pin down. The line between memory and reality was blurring, and neither could deny the strange attraction, the unspoken tension that had hung in the air from the moment they met you. You were Elena’s twin, yes, but something about you stirred in them a feeling both exhilarating and painful, an echo of the past they thought they had left behind.

Stefan finally spoke, his voice softer now. “We can’t let Elena know. She’s already suspicious, and if she finds out we’re… drawn to her sister, it’ll only hurt her. And… she doesn’t need to know that Y/n remind us of Katherine.” He met Damon’s gaze, a silent plea in his eyes.

Damon nodded, the usual cocky glint in his eyes dimmed by a seriousness Stefan rarely saw. “Agreed,” he said, though the words felt like a weight in his chest. “But let’s face it, Stefan. Whatever this is, it’s not going away. Not unless we get to the bottom of who she really is, and why we’re both feeling this way.”

The brothers exchanged a heavy glance, each recognizing the turmoil brewing between them. It was a pull neither wanted to confront, yet ignoring it felt impossible. The question now wasn’t just who you were, but what your arrival would mean for them, and for everything they thought they understood about love, loyalty, and the ghosts that refused to stay buried.

The arrival of the Mikaelsons sends a ripple through Mystic Falls, a new storm on the horizon. You’ve barely stepped out of the boarding house before you see them, all four of them, a striking and intimidating presence. Kol, Elijah, Klaus, and Rebekah stand together like something out of an old painting, a darkly elegant family bound by blood and the centuries that forged them. Their eyes scan the area, searching, and when they spot you, three sets of eyes light up with interest.

Kol is the first to approach, a wicked smile already playing on his lips as he watches you with an unmistakable spark. “Well, aren’t you a sight,” he says smoothly, his eyes drifting over you with an admiration that’s anything but subtle. “And here I thought Mystic Falls had grown boring.”

Elijah is more reserved but no less intrigued. He steps closer, his gaze thoughtful, his head tilted ever so slightly as if he’s studying a rare piece of art. “It’s rare to meet someone who carries themselves with such… poise,” he says, his tone polite yet filled with something deeper. He gives you a small, approving nod, and you can tell he’s the kind of man who’s drawn to people of depth and mystery, and it seems you’ve caught his attention.

Klaus is last to make his move, standing back a bit, his eyes dark and assessing. The way he looks at you is intense, almost possessive, as if he’s already decided that whatever’s drawn his interest here will soon belong to him. “You must be Elena’s twin,” he says with a smirk, his gaze practically pinning you in place. “Though, I must say, I expected something… softer.” His voice drips with challenge, and the gleam in his eye is as predatory as it is fascinated.

Before you can respond, Damon and Stefan appear at your side, their expressions tense. Damon steps forward, slipping an arm around your shoulders with a look of defiance. “Well, well,” he drawls, his voice edged with sarcasm, “look who decided to show up. What, Mystic Falls not deadly enough without you lot?”

Klaus’ smirk widens, and he meets Damon’s challenge head-on. “Relax, Damon. We’re only here to get reacquainted with an old friend.” His gaze flicks back to you, lingering with interest that he doesn’t bother to hide. “One we didn’t know we had.”

Kol chuckles, his eyes still fixed on you as he pointedly ignores Damon and Stefan. “Can’t say I blame them for hovering,” he murmurs, leaning a bit closer to you. “With looks like yours, I’d be protective too.”

Stefan shifts uncomfortably, a flicker of jealousy flashing across his face as he watches Kol get a little too close for comfort. “Maybe you should take a step back,” Stefan suggests, his tone controlled but firm.

Rebekah, who’s been watching the tension build with a smirk, finally speaks up, adding her own fuel to the fire. “Oh, don’t be so touchy,” she teases, glancing between Damon and Stefan with an amused glint in her eye. “It’s not our fault if she prefers better company.”

You can feel Damon’s grip on your shoulder tighten as he glares at the Originals, his jaw clenched as he looks between them. “I don’t think she’s in the market for new friends,” he says, his voice edged with a protectiveness you haven’t heard from him before. He throws a pointed look at Kol, then Klaus, his eyes flashing with warning.

But the Mikaelsons are undeterred, clearly enjoying the reaction they’re getting. Elijah, ever the diplomat, holds up a hand as if to diffuse the tension, though there’s a sly glint in his eye. “Let’s not be hasty,” he says, looking directly at you. “Perhaps she can make her own decisions.”

The moment he says it, you feel their eyes on you, Damon and Stefan on one side, Kol, Elijah, and Klaus on the other. The pull between them is palpable, and you realize with a strange sense of satisfaction that you hold all the cards here.

Damon’s lips curl in irritation, but he doesn’t let go of you, his arm still firmly around your shoulders. “If you think we’re just going to stand by while you try to—”

“To what?” Klaus cuts in smoothly, his voice low and laced with amusement. “Show her a better time? Give her a taste of freedom, perhaps? Because something tells me she might like that.” His gaze never wavers from yours, an unspoken invitation in his eyes.

The tension between the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons is electric, and you can practically feel the jealousy radiating off of Damon and Stefan as the Originals blatantly express their interest in you. Damon leans in, speaking low in your ear, “Don’t let them fool you. They’ll drag you into their twisted little games and spit you out when they’re done.”

But part of you is tempted, intrigued by the promise of something unknown and dangerous. You’ve always been drawn to things that lie outside the lines, and the Mikaelsons, especially Kol and Klaus, seem more than willing to play along. You smile at Damon, giving him a look that says you can handle yourself, and then meet Kol’s gaze with a spark in your eye.

The Originals might have come to town to stir up trouble, but they didn’t expect to find someone who could stir them up just as much. As you hold their gaze, you sense that this is only the beginning of a rivalry that’s bound to get more intense, and you’re more than ready to be in the middle of it.

The following evening, you found yourself at the Salvatore boarding house, standing in the dimly lit parlor with an expression that was equal parts confusion and frustration. After everything you’d witnessed at the gathering, the cold stares, the thinly veiled jealousy, and the sharp tension between the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons, you felt you couldn’t stay silent any longer. You needed answers.

Stefan and Damon stood before you, Damon leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, wearing his usual smirk, though tonight it seemed forced. Stefan was watching you, his brow furrowed, clearly sensing your frustration.

“Okay,” you began, folding your arms. “What was that back there? You two were acting like absolute jerks.”

Damon scoffed, raising an eyebrow at you. “Jerks? Us? I’d say we were just… looking out for you,” he replied, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. He tried to brush it off with a smirk, but you weren’t buying it.

“Looking out for me?” you repeated, voice thick with disbelief. “It didn’t feel like that. It felt like you were trying to scare them off.” You looked between the two of them, your gaze intense. “Why, Damon? Why did you feel the need to interfere?”

Stefan sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking like he wanted to step in and explain, but Damon spoke first.

“You really don’t see it, do you?” Damon replied, his tone sharper than he intended. “The Mikaelsons, they’re not exactly known for their warm and fuzzy reputations. Klaus, Elijah, Kol, they don’t care about anyone but themselves.”

“That’s not your decision to make,” you shot back, frustration growing. “I can handle myself, Damon. I don’t need you two stepping in like… like some overprotective bodyguards.” You paused, meeting Stefan’s gaze, who looked down as if struggling to put his feelings into words. “What is really going on here? Because this isn’t just about keeping me ‘safe.’ This feels… personal.”

Stefan shifted, glancing at Damon before meeting your eyes. “You’re right,” he admitted softly. “Maybe it is personal. But not in the way you think.”

You waited, crossing your arms, silently urging him to continue.

“Seeing you with them, it brought back memories,” Stefan continued, his voice tight. “Memories of Katherine. The way you looked at them… it reminded us of things we thought we’d buried.”

“Katherine,” you murmured, the name feeling strange on your tongue. The infamous vampire you’d heard countless stories about, the one who had left a mark on everyone in Mystic Falls, including the Salvatore brothers. “You think I’m like her?”

Damon’s gaze softened slightly, the cocky veneer slipping as he studied you. “It’s not just that you’re like her. It’s that… you remind us of her. There’s this part of you, this fire, this strength, and the Originals, they’re drawn to it. Just like they were to her.” He clenched his jaw, as if the words were a bitter pill he was struggling to swallow. “And maybe we don’t want to see that happen again.”

The weight of his confession settled over you, and you looked between them, realizing the depth of what they were saying. It wasn’t just jealousy, it was fear, an old wound reopening, and they were terrified of losing someone else to the same darkness that had once pulled them both in.

You exhaled, trying to find the right words. “Damon, Stefan… I’m not Katherine. I get that she hurt you both in ways I can’t even imagine. But that doesn’t mean I’m her.” Your voice softened as you continued, “And the Mikaelsons, yes, they’re different, maybe even dangerous, but that’s my choice to make. Not yours.”

Stefan’s expression softened, a trace of regret appearing in his eyes. “We know that. It’s just… difficult. Seeing you with them, it brought up feelings we didn’t realize we still had. It’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth.”

You took a step closer, searching their faces. “Then be honest with me. Is that all this is, some unresolved ghost of Katherine? Or is there something else?”

Damon’s jaw clenched, and he looked away, clearly wrestling with something he couldn’t bring himself to say. But Stefan, his voice low and filled with honesty, spoke up.

“It’s more than that,” he admitted, his gaze steady. “It’s about you. You’re not just Elena’s twin to us, or some reminder of the past. You’ve… become important to us in a way we didn’t expect. And maybe that’s why seeing you with them was so hard.” He took a deep breath, his eyes full of unspoken words. “Because we care about you,more than we probably should.”

Damon shifted, his usual bravado fading as he finally met your gaze. “He’s right,” he said quietly, a rare sincerity in his voice. “Look, I don’t do this whole ‘feelings’ thing, but… yeah, you matter. And maybe that scares me more than I’d like to admit.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy and electric, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The fierce protectiveness, the jealousy, the vulnerability, they had all been signs, masked behind layers of bravado and denial.

After a moment, you took a deep breath, your gaze softening as you looked at them. “I understand now. And maybe… maybe I feel something too,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “But that doesn’t mean you can protect me from everything. I need to be able to make my own choices, even if they involve the Mikaelsons.”

Damon sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, we get it. We’ll back off… a little. But don’t expect us to stay quiet if those Originals start playing games.”

Stefan nodded, giving you a small smile. “We trust you. And we’ll be here, no matter what you decide.”

With that, an unspoken understanding settled between you, a recognition of the complex feelings swirling between you all. And as you left that night, you knew that whatever lay ahead, with the Salvatore brothers, the Mikaelsons, or the ghosts of the past, you wouldn’t be facing it alone.

After the heated conversation, the atmosphere in the boarding house has softened slightly. The tension between you and the Salvatores seems to have loosened its grip, and they’re no longer brimming with protective anger. Instead, Damon is leaning against the wall, arms crossed, studying you with his usual half-smirk, while Stefan is seated on the couch, still watching you with that cautious yet gentle look. They might still be worried, but you’ve made your point clear, and for now, that’s enough.

You take a deep breath, realizing that maybe this is the perfect time to lighten the mood and remind them, and yourself, that life doesn’t have to be all danger and drama. A glint of excitement shines in your eyes as you turn to face them both.

“So,” you start, a playful smile spreading across your face. “Speaking of needing you two… I have a favor to ask.”

Damon raises an eyebrow, looking at you curiously. “A favor, huh? Haven’t we done enough heroic, life-saving duties for the day?”

“Oh, relax, Damon,” you say with a laugh. “I’m not asking you to save my life or anything.” You pause, glancing at Stefan, who’s watching you with a small, intrigued smile. “I wanted to ask if you’d go to prom with me.”

Both of them look momentarily stunned. Prom probably isn’t something they’d expected you to bring up, especially not in the middle of this entire Mikaelson drama. But as the surprise fades, you can see a hint of something else in their expressions, something warm, something that speaks of a life they’ve nearly forgotten.

Damon recovers first, his smirk growing into a full-blown grin. “Prom, huh? I haven’t been to one of those in… well, let’s just say it’s been a while. Are you really asking us?”

You roll your eyes, fighting back a smile as you cross your arms. “Yes, you two. I mean, technically, it’s supposed to be a date thing, but seeing as I’m not exactly swimming in options that don’t involve ancient, overly charming Originals, I figured I’d bring my two favorite guys along.” You give them a playful nudge. “Come on, are you in?”

Stefan chuckles, leaning back on the couch with an expression that’s somewhere between nostalgia and amusement. “I never pictured myself going to another prom, but… if you’re asking, how could I say no?” There’s something soft in his tone, a sincerity that warms you. He’s been through so much darkness that the thought of a simple, carefree night must sound almost like a distant dream.

Damon, however, seems less sentimental and more intrigued. He steps closer, eyeing you with that familiar glint of mischief. “So, let me get this straight. You want both of us to be your dates to prom? You realize that’s going to turn a few heads, don’t you?”

You laugh, nodding. “Oh, I’m counting on it. I mean, if I’m going to prom, I may as well go all out. And besides…” You hesitate, a flicker of honesty slipping through. “After everything that’s been going on, I kind of just want one normal night. And I couldn’t think of two people I’d rather spend it with.”

For a moment, the lighthearted tone shifts, and there’s a silence that feels like understanding, like they realize what you’re really asking. It’s not just a night at prom, it’s a chance to escape the weight of the supernatural world, to remember what it’s like to feel young and carefree.

Stefan’s expression softens, and he gives you a gentle smile. “Then we’re in. We’ll make it a night to remember.”

Damon chuckles, but there’s a glimmer of something real in his eyes as he nods in agreement. “Fine, we’re in. But if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.” He gives you a sly smile. “I’ll make sure to get us a limo, maybe even some flowers. A real prom experience.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning. “Flowers, Damon? Are you actually saying you’ll go all out?”

“Hey,” he protests, feigning offense, “if I’m going to be one of your dates, I’ve got to bring my A-game. Besides,” he adds with a smirk, “I think I might enjoy this whole ‘normal life’ thing for a change. Plus, it’ll be fun to watch everyone’s reaction when you show up with not one, but two dates.”

You can’t help but laugh, already picturing the scandalized looks, the whispers. It’s a tempting thought, but more than that, you feel a warmth growing in your chest at the idea of a night with Damon and Stefan by your side, where, just for a few hours, you could all forget the supernatural chaos.

Stefan’s expression shifts as he stands, his tone quieter but full of genuine excitement. “It’s a good idea, Y/N. After everything, I think we all need this.”

“Agreed,” Damon says, his usual sarcasm replaced by something softer. “So, prom it is. I hope you’re ready to be the center of attention because something tells me this night’s going to make a splash.”

You nod, feeling a surge of excitement. For the first time in a long while, you feel a flicker of that simple thrill, that feeling of looking forward to something without any hidden dangers or secrets lurking around the corner. The thought of going to prom with the Salvatores, of having an evening where you can just be, it’s exactly what you need.

“Then it’s a date,” you say with a grin, looking between Damon and Stefan.

Damon raises his glass in a mock toast, his smirk widening. “To prom. And to making everyone at Mystic Falls High question exactly how you managed to score two dates.”

Stefan laughs, clinking his glass against Damon’s, a relaxed smile on his face as he glances at you. “And here’s to you, Y/N. For knowing how to keep us on our toes.”

Your heart warmed at the sincerity in his words. For a moment, the weight of Mystic Falls, the dangers, the past, the uncertainties, melted away. This felt real, uncomplicated by secrets and rivalries. Just you and the two people who, despite the chaos, had come to mean so much.

When the night of prom arrived, you felt an excited nervousness settle in as you stood in front of the mirror, smoothing the elegant gown you’d chosen. It was a deep, rich color, one that brought out the warmth in your eyes and made you feel almost like a character from an old romance novel. As you looked at your reflection, you could hardly believe that tonight was finally here, that you were about to share a moment like this with Damon and Stefan.

In the hours leading up to prom, the Salvatore boarding house buzzed with an energy usually reserved for battles, not ballroom dances. But tonight was different. Tonight, Damon and Stefan were putting in effort that went far beyond the usual suit-and-tie routine. They were getting ready for prom with you, a night that had come to mean far more than either of them initially realized.

Damon stood in front of the mirror, his tailored black suit fitting him perfectly. He smoothed his lapel, inspecting himself with a critical eye, his usual cocky grin absent as he actually considered his appearance. The suit had been specially selected for the night, a sleek, modern cut that hugged his frame just right, exuding a devil-may-care charm that was so quintessentially Damon.

“Looking a bit serious there, aren’t we?” Stefan’s voice came from across the room. He was meticulously brushing his hair, his suit equally tailored to perfection, a classic, timeless look that spoke to his sense of elegance and quiet confidence.

Damon smirked, brushing his hand over his jacket. “Can’t help it, little brother. Tonight’s a big night.” His voice carried a hint of excitement masked under his usual sarcasm, though Stefan wasn’t fooled.

“Big night, or big ego?” Stefan countered with a grin, adjusting his cufflinks. His suit was a deep charcoal black, accentuating his calm, refined aura. He’d chosen it specifically to match your dress after overhearing you mention the color once. Stefan ran a hand through his hair one last time, making sure each strand was in place.

“Say what you will,” Damon replied, ignoring the jab as he spritzed some cologne on his wrist, dabbing it against his neck. “But I’m just making sure I’m at my best tonight. We have competition.” He shot a look at Stefan in the mirror, referencing the lingering threat of the Mikaelsons, who had made their interest in you known a little too clearly for the Salvatore brothers’ liking.

Stefan rolled his eyes, his tone turning more serious. “Right, because a few sprays of cologne are going to keep the Originals away.” He tightened his tie with a practiced ease, still watching Damon with a bemused expression.

But Damon was already unscrewing the cap of his cologne again, this time going in for another spritz… and then another. “I’m just being thorough,” he shrugged, giving himself a liberal amount, until the scent filled the entire room in a thick, woodsy cloud.

Stefan coughed, waving a hand to clear the air. “Thorough? Damon, you’re basically choking the room at this point,” he complained, though his tone was amused. “Do you actually want her to smell anything else tonight?”

Damon shrugged, unbothered, his smirk widening. “What? She likes it. And it’s not like I’m risking smelling like Old Spice and regret like some people.” He shot Stefan a teasing look.

Stefan gave an exasperated sigh, but his eyes held a glint of humor. “Alright, alright. Let’s just try to leave her some oxygen to breathe tonight.”

Ignoring his brother’s complaints, Damon checked himself out in the mirror one last time, his gaze slightly softer as he thought about seeing you. “She deserves a proper prom night,” he murmured, more to himself than to Stefan. For a second, a look of genuine anticipation flickered in his eyes, something vulnerable and uncharacteristic, a glimpse of his softer side. “One she’ll remember.”

Stefan watched him for a moment, his own expression softening. “Agreed.”

The truth was, neither of them would admit it, but they were both nervous. The idea of a regular night where they could just enjoy your company, no threats, no looming dangers, was something they both hadn’t realized they craved until now. They wanted this night to be special for you, and, perhaps secretly, for themselves, too.

Stefan brushed his hair one last time, giving his reflection a final, approving nod. Damon adjusted his collar, straightening the lapel and flashing one last, self-assured grin in the mirror.

“Shall we?” Damon gestured toward the stairs, but as they both walked toward the door, Stefan couldn’t help but stop, catching a whiff of Damon’s overwhelming cologne. He raised an eyebrow, giving Damon a smirk.

“If she faints tonight, it won’t be from excitement,” he said dryly.

Damon laughed, waving him off. “Oh, please. She’ll love it. Besides, no one will be able to ignore my charm when I walk into that room.”

A knock at the door pulled you from your thoughts, and you opened it to find the Salvatore brothers standing there, both dressed in sharp, tailored suits. They looked every bit the part of classic gentlemen, yet each in their own way. Stefan with his calm, reassuring smile and Damon with his roguish smirk, his gaze lingering on you with open admiration.

“You look… incredible,” Stefan said softly, his eyes alight with warmth as he took in your appearance.

Damon stepped forward, his eyes glinting with his usual mischief, but there was a sincerity there that made your heart skip. “Well, princess, if I’d known you’d clean up this well, I would’ve asked you out sooner.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress your smile. “Thank you. You both look… well, let’s just say the tuxes suit you.”

As they each offered you an arm, you slipped yours through theirs, feeling a thrill of excitement as you walked out of your house with the two of them by your side. Arriving at the prom with both Stefan and Damon drew some curious glances, whispers trailing behind you. But you ignored it all, your focus on the magic of the night and the two people who’d made it feel so special.

As the night went on, the three of you laughed, danced, and shared stories, the usual weight of Mystic Falls lifted, if only for a few hours. You found yourself captivated by Damon’s sharp wit, his playful remarks making you laugh more than you had in ages, while Stefan’s gentle kindness made you feel safe, his quiet strength grounding you in a way that felt natural and right.

When a slow song began, Damon gave Stefan a quick nod and took your hand, leading you to the dance floor. He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close, his intense blue eyes locking onto yours as the two of you swayed in rhythm. For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you, and you could feel the connection between you, a pull, a shared understanding, deeper than either of you could deny.

After the song ended, Damon reluctantly stepped back, giving Stefan a turn. Stefan’s touch was soft, his hand resting gently on your back as he guided you through the next song. There was a gentleness in his gaze, a tenderness that made you feel seen, truly seen, in a way you hadn’t before. As he held you, his eyes never left yours, and you could sense that he, too, felt something he couldn’t quite put into words.

When the music finally stopped, the three of you lingered on the dance floor, sharing a quiet, meaningful moment. Damon’s smirk softened as he glanced between you and Stefan, a flicker of genuine contentment in his expression.

“I’ll admit it,” he said, his voice a low murmur. “This was a pretty good idea.”

Stefan chuckled, nodding. “Agreed. I’m glad you asked us.”

You smiled, feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness as you looked between the two of them. “Thank you… for making this night unforgettable.”

And as the three of you stood there, bathed in the glow of the twinkling lights, you knew that this was more than just a prom night. It was a memory, a rare and precious moment of peace and joy in a world filled with shadows. Whatever the future held, you knew this night would always be a reminder of the bond you shared, and the feelings that had quietly taken root between you and the Salvatores, feelings that promised to grow, even amid the turmoil of Mystic Falls.

The music at the Mystic Falls High gym is loud, pulsing with a beat that reverberates through the room, blending with the cheerful shouts and laughter of the students on the dance floor. The air is filled with the scents of perfume, cologne, and the faint aroma of punch. Damon and Stefan stand at the edge of the room, keeping a watchful eye on you as you move through the crowd in your elegant dress, the color complimenting your skin and the lights reflecting in your eyes. For the first time in what feels like forever, you’re smiling, carefree, sharing a moment with friends, soaking in the thrill of the night.

You glanced around, your instincts screaming that something was wrong. A figure in the shadows near the entrance caught your eye, his silhouette tall and ominous. Mikael. You knew the stories, heard the tales of his ruthless pursuit of the Originals, but he had never set his sights on you, until now.

Before Damon or Stefan could notice, you slipped quietly out the side door, hoping that maybe you could lure him away from the prom, away from everyone you cared about. But as soon as you stepped outside, you could feel Mikael’s presence, looming and heavy, like a predator stalking its prey. You took a deep breath, moving quickly down the empty school hallway, hearing the faintest echo of his footsteps behind you.

The announcement for prom royalty echoes over the speakers, and the crowd’s cheers swell as your name is called. “And this year’s prom Queen is… Y/N Gilbert!” The room erupts into applause, and heads turn, waiting for you to step forward.

But you don’t move. Damon’s playful smirk drops as he scans the crowd, his brows knitting in concern when he doesn’t see you. Stefan is quick to follow suit, his eyes darting around the gym, searching for any sign of you.

“Where did she go?” Damon mutters, the hint of worry creeping into his tone as he starts to push through the crowd, Stefan close behind.

“She was right here a minute ago,” Stefan’s brow furrowed, his eyes darting through the crowd

Damon didn’t wait another second. He pulled out his phone, ready to call you, when suddenly, it buzzed in his hand. Your name flashed on the screen, and he immediately pressed the answer button.

“Y/N? Where are you?” Damon’s voice was edged with worry.

Your breath came out in ragged gasps as you whispered into the phone, “Damon… Mikael is here. He’s… he’s chasing me. I had to leave the prom—I didn’t want him hurting anyone else.”

The weight of your words hung heavy, and Stefan’s eyes widened as he picked up on the conversation. He moved closer, trying to listen, his face contorted with worry and determination.

“Where are you?” Damon’s tone sharpened, the protective side of him igniting at the mention of Mikael’s name.

“I… I think I’m near the science wing. I’m trying to stay ahead of him, but he’s… fast.”

Stefan took the phone from Damon, his voice calm but urgent as he spoke. “Stay where you are, Y/N. We’re coming to get you. Don’t try to face him alone.”

You swallowed hard, glancing over your shoulder as Mikael’s silhouette emerged at the end of the hallway, his cold eyes locked onto you. “I’ll try. Just… hurry.”

With that, you ended the call, your heart pounding as you backed up, searching for an escape route. But Mikael’s predatory gaze never left you, his every step deliberate as he stalked toward you.

Damon and Stefan didn’t waste a second. They pushed through the crowd, ignoring the curious glances as they headed for the exit. Damon’s jaw was clenched, his eyes blazing with determination. “If he lays a hand on her…”

Stefan placed a steadying hand on Damon’s shoulder, his own face grim. “We’ll get to her first.”

They moved quickly through the dimly lit corridors, following the faint sound of your heartbeat, a skill both brothers had perfected over the years. The closer they got, the louder your heartbeat became, each rapid thump a painful reminder of the danger you were facing.

Meanwhile, you darted around the corner, your breathing shallow as you tried to stay quiet. But Mikael was relentless, his pace unwavering as he followed the trail of your scent. Every door you passed, every hallway you ducked into, seemed to only draw him closer.

“Do you really think you can outrun me?” Mikael’s voice echoed down the corridor, cold and taunting. “You may look like her, but you are not Katherine. You’re weaker, more… vulnerable.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you clutched your phone tightly, hoping that Damon and Stefan were close. You could feel your strength waning, the adrenaline beginning to fade as the reality of your situation set in. But you knew you couldn’t let him see your fear.

You turned to face him, standing tall despite the tremor in your hands. “I’m not afraid of you, Mikael.”

He chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “Brave words for someone so… fragile. I’ve taken down creatures far stronger than you.”

Damon and Stefan moved swiftly through the winding corridors of Mystic Falls High, their steps purposeful and their expressions set with determination. You were out there, facing Mikael alone, and every second counted. Nothing mattered more than reaching you. Their thoughts were focused solely on getting to you before Mikael had a chance to harm you.

But as they turned a corner in the empty hallway, they came face-to-face with none other than Klaus, Elijah, and Kol. The Mikaelson brothers stood there, blocking their path, each wearing an expression that ranged from mild curiosity to amusement.

“Where are you two rushing off to in such a hurry?” Klaus asked, his voice light but laced with intrigue. “Don’t tell me there’s trouble brewing at the Mystic Falls High prom.”

Damon shot him a dark look, jaw clenched. “We don’t have time for this, Klaus. Get out of our way.”

Kol smirked, stepping closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “What’s the urgency, boys? You seem… tense. Care to share?”

Stefan cast a quick glance down the hall, clearly itching to move past them. “This isn’t any of your business. We need to go.”

But Elijah, with his usual composed demeanor, raised an eyebrow. “If this concerns Mystic Falls and involves my father, I’d say it is our business. What’s going on?”

Damon’s patience snapped. “Mikael’s after Y/N. She’s out there, alone, and we’re not wasting another second talking about it.”

Klaus’s smile faded instantly, replaced by a look of concern, and something else that flickered briefly in his eyes, something dark and protective. He exchanged a quick glance with his brothers, and for once, the usual rivalry between the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons seemed to fade.

“If Mikael’s after Y/N,” Klaus said, his voice low and dangerous, “then you’ll need all the help you can get. She’s valuable to us, too.”

Damon sneered, clearly unconvinced by the sudden show of camaraderie. “Right, because you care so much. Spare us the act, Klaus.”

But Elijah stepped forward, his gaze earnest. “This isn’t an act. Mikael’s vendetta is reckless and cruel, and if Y/N’s caught in his crossfire, it affects us all. Let us help.”

For a tense moment, Damon and Stefan stood there, sizing up the Originals. They knew the Mikaelsons had their own motives, but this wasn’t the time to argue. You were in danger, and any delay only gave Mikael more time to close in on you.

Finally, Stefan gave a quick nod. “Fine. But stay out of our way.”

Without waiting for a response, Damon and Stefan turned and resumed their sprint, and the Mikaelsons followed, their footsteps falling in sync as they raced through the school, united in a rare truce for the sake of protecting you.

As they approached the science wing, Damon’s ears picked up on a faint, familiar heartbeat, yours. It was rapid, but strong, and it propelled him forward even faster. When they rounded the corner, they spotted you at the end of the hall, trapped between Mikael and a row of lockers, his looming figure casting a shadow over you.

In an instant, the Salvatores and the Mikaelsons moved as one. Damon and Stefan surged forward, drawing Mikael’s attention away from you, while Elijah and Klaus moved to your side, each taking a protective stance in front of you.

Mikael turned, his expression twisting with disdain as he faced the five men now blocking his path. “Well, isn’t this a touching little reunion,” he sneered. “The Salvatore brothers and my wayward children, all coming together for a mortalgirl.”

Damon’s eyes blazed, his voice a deadly growl. “Call her that again, and you’ll regret it.”

Klaus smirked, a glint of satisfaction in his gaze as he added, “You always did underestimate the people we care about, Father. But tonight, you’re going to regret it.”

Mikael’s face darkened, but before he could respond, Kol lunged forward with supernatural speed, striking the first blow. The others followed suit, surrounding Mikael in a whirlwind of force, each blow fierce and unyielding. Damon and Stefan fought side by side with the Mikaelsons, their combined strength holding Mikael at bay, pushing him back with every strike.

Meanwhile, Elijah turned to you, his voice gentle despite the chaos. “Are you hurt?”

You shook your head, still catching your breath. “No… but thank you.”

He nodded, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Stay behind us. We won’t let him near you again.”

Klaus threw a look over his shoulder, his voice laced with unexpected concern. “Get her out of here, Elijah. We’ll handle this.”

But you stepped forward, determination flaring in your eyes. “I’m not leaving any of you to face him alone. He came here for me, and I won’t run.”

Damon, catching the exchange, shot you a quick look, his expression both exasperated and protective. “Stubborn as ever, aren’t you?” he muttered, though there was a hint of admiration in his voice.

Finally, with one final, powerful blow from Klaus, Mikael staggered back, his eyes blazing with anger. He took a moment to assess the line of his enemies, his gaze moving from the Salvatores to the Mikaelsons, before he gave a cold, bitter laugh.

“You think this is over?” he sneered, locking eyes with each of you. “This girl is a weakness, a liability. She’ll be the end of you all.”

With that, Mikael disappeared into the shadows, his promise lingering ominously in the air.

As silence fell, Damon turned to you, his shoulders relaxing as he took in the sight of you, safe and unharmed. He moved toward you, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. “Next time, don’t run off without us. Got it?”

You managed a shaky smile. “Got it.”

Stefan gave you a gentle smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “We’re glad you’re okay.”

Klaus watched the exchange, his expression thoughtful, though he quickly masked it with his usual cool demeanor. “Looks like we’re all a bit protective, aren’t we?”

Damon glanced at Klaus, the usual animosity softened, if only for the moment. “This doesn’t mean we’re friends, Klaus. But… thanks.”

Klaus smirked, giving a nod. “Trust me, Salvatore, it’s a one-time alliance. But you’re welcome.”

With that, the Mikaelsons turned, disappearing down the hall, leaving you and the Salvatores in a rare, quiet moment. Stefan pulled you close, and Damon wrapped his arm around you, a silent promise of protection.

As you walked out of the school, flanked by the Salvatores, you felt a sense of gratitude and belonging. No matter what threats loomed, you knew you weren’t alone, and with Damon and Stefan by your side, you could face anything.

The night was finally quiet as you stood in the empty school parking lot with Damon and Stefan by your side, each of them visibly relieved that you were safe. After everything that had happened, you felt an overwhelming wave of gratitude and affection for them, and without a second thought, you pulled both of them into a warm, thankful hug.

Damon’s arms wrapped around you first, holding you protectively, while Stefan smiled softly, his hand resting gently on your shoulder. For a moment, everything felt right, a rare moment of peace in Mystic Falls. But just as you closed your eyes, letting the safety of their embrace sink in, a voice cut through the silence, sending a chill down your spine.

As you walked out of the school with Damon and Stefan on either side, a sense of calm finally settled over you. The night had been intense, terrifying even, but you had made it through with them by your side. Their presence grounded you, and the silent comfort they offered was all you needed. You came to a stop, turning to face both of them, and a small smile spread across your face.

“Thank you,” you whispered, wrapping your arms around both of them in a warm embrace. It was a moment you had needed, to feel safe, supported, and understood. Damon rested his chin on your head, his usual smirk replaced by a rare, soft expression, while Stefan’s arms wrapped protectively around you.

But the moment was short-lived.

A familiar voice, smooth and taunting, cut through the quiet, sending a chill down your spine. “Well, isn’t this touching?”

You froze, your heart thudding as you slowly turned to see Katherine Pierce standing a few feet away, her lips curled into a smug smile as she took in the scene before her.

Damon and Stefan’s relaxed postures vanished instantly. They stepped in front of you, shielding you from Katherine as their gazes hardened. Damon crossed his arms, his tone sharp and suspicious. “Katherine. What are you doing back in town?”

Stefan’s eyes narrowed, his stance protective. “Last I heard, you had no reason to be here.”

Katherine ignored them, her eyes locking onto you with a look that was both intense and unnervingly affectionate. She took a step closer, her gaze appraising. “I came back for my daughter,” she said, her voice smooth but carrying a weight of finality. “And I’m not leaving without her.”

Your breath caught in your throat, her words settling heavily as the truth began to dawn on you. Daughter. The word echoed in your mind, sharp and disorienting. You glanced between Damon and Stefan, your shock mirrored in their expressions as they exchanged a stunned look.

Damon was the first to break the silence, his voice thick with disbelief and anger. “Wait. Your daughter? Since when do you have a daughter?”

Katherine’s smirk only deepened. “Oh, come now, Damon. Did you think my life began and ended with you two? There’s so much you don’t know.”

You took a shaky step forward, your eyes never leaving Katherine’s. “What… are you talking about?”

Katherine’s gaze softened, though there was a glint of something almost predatory in her eyes as she looked at you. “You’re my blood, Y/N. My own flesh and blood. You may have thought Elena was your only family, but there’s more to the story than anyone told you.”

Stefan’s voice was cold, his protective side flaring as he stepped closer to you. “If this is some twisted game, Katherine, it ends now. She’s been through enough tonight.”

Katherine held her hands up in mock innocence, a hint of amusement in her gaze. “Oh, don’t worry, Stefan. I don’t intend to hurt her. Quite the opposite, in fact. I want her to come with me, to leave this dull little town behind and be a part of something bigger.”

Damon’s eyes narrowed, a mix of anger and suspicion clouding his expression. “After everything you’ve put us through, you expect us to just hand her over to you?”

Katherine let out a low chuckle. “I don’t expect anything from you, Damon. But Y/N deserves to know the truth. She deserves to know who she really is.”

Your heart pounded as you stared at Katherine, every instinct telling you to be wary, yet something in her gaze drew you in. There was a strange familiarity in her face, a resemblance you had always ignored, but now couldn’t deny. The way her eyes sparkled, the way her smirk mirrored your own… it was like seeing pieces of yourself in someone else.

But confusion and hurt welled up within you, and you shook your head, taking a step back. “Why now? Why would you show up now, after all these years, and claim to be my mother?”

Katherine’s expression softened, but there was still a calculating edge to her gaze. “Because, my dear, I’ve kept my distance to protect you. But things have changed.“

Damon clenched his fists, stepping between you and Katherine once more, his voice filled with a dark warning. “If you think we’ll let you just waltz in and drag her into your mess, you’re delusional. She’s not going anywhere with you.”

Stefan’s eyes darkened, his protective instincts kicking in as he placed a steadying hand on your shoulder. “She has a life here, Katherine. Friends, people who care about her. You can’t just claim her like a prize and expect her to follow you.”

Katherine arched an eyebrow, her tone sharp. “Oh, but I can. Because I am her mother, and I’ve done everything in my power to keep her hidden from the dangers that haunt my life. Unlike you, I’m willing to do whatever it takes to keep her safe.”

You swallowed hard, emotions swirling inside you, fear, anger, disbelief, and something you couldn’t quite place. A strange curiosity that tugged at the edges of your mind. You looked at Damon and Stefan, their faces set with determination, a silent promise that they wouldn’t let Katherine take you without a fight. But part of you couldn’t help but wonder if there was truth to Katherine’s words.

“What if… what if she’s telling the truth?” you whispered, barely able to get the words out.

Stefan looked down at you, his expression softening as he saw the confusion in your eyes. “Y/N, whatever she’s saying, you don’t have to go with her. You don’t owe her anything.”

Damon’s gaze flickered with a protective intensity as he nodded in agreement. “She’s lied more times than I can count. She’s only ever looked out for herself.”

But Katherine’s voice broke through, filled with conviction. “You may not trust me, but you can’t deny the truth of who you are. Y/N, you’re stronger than you know, and I’m the only one who can help you tap into that power. I can teach you things these two never could.”

The offer hung in the air, and Katherine’s gaze never wavered as she held her hand out to you, an invitation and a challenge. “Come with me, Y/N. Let me show you what you’re truly capable of.”

You stared at her outstretched hand, a part of you tempted by the mystery she promised to reveal. But as you glanced at Damon and Stefan, standing resolutely by your side, their loyalty and love a constant reminder of the life you had built here, you felt torn.

With a shaky breath, you looked Katherine in the eye, your voice steadier than you felt. “Maybe you are my mother. Maybe there’s a part of me that wants to know more… but I’m not going anywhere with you. I belong here, with people who care about me.”

Damon placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, his voice full of quiet pride. “She made her choice, Katherine. And it’s not you.”

Katherine’s face hardened, her gaze flicking between the three of you. “Fine,” she spat, her voice laced with venom. “But don’t think this is over. You may feel safe now, but one day, you’ll need me. And when that day comes, don’t expect the same kindness I’m offering now.”

With a final, piercing look, Katherine spun on her heel, disappearing into the shadows, leaving a cold silence in her wake.

You stood there, your mind still racing, and Stefan wrapped his arm around you, his warmth a balm against the lingering chill Katherine left behind. “You don’t have to face this alone, Y/N,” he murmured. “We’re here. Always.”

Damon gave you a reassuring smile, his arm slinging protectively around your shoulders. “And if Katherine comes back? She’ll have to go through us first.”

As the Salvatores led you into your house, you could barely hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you. The events of the night, the encounter with Mikael, the terrifying chase, and Katherine’s bombshell revelation, had left you feeling raw and exposed. Damon kept a gentle hand on your back as you walked through the door, while Stefan lingered beside you, offering silent support.

Once inside, you caught a glimpse of Elena waiting in the living room. She rose to her feet the moment she saw you, concern etched across her face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. Without a word, you brushed past her, tears gathering in your eyes as you hurried up the stairs. You heard her call your name, but you just couldn’t deal with her questions or confusion right now. All you wanted was a moment alone to process the whirlwind of emotions tearing through you.

Elena’s face fell as she watched you disappear upstairs, her brow furrowing in confusion. She turned her gaze toward Damon and Stefan, who remained in the entryway, both of them looking grim and exhausted. She crossed her arms, an angry spark flaring in her eyes. “Alright,” she demanded, her voice sharp. “What happened? Why is my sister, no, my twin, crying?”

Damon sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair, clearly in no mood for another confrontation. “Elena, it’s been a long night. Maybe we can talk about this in the morning.”

But Elena wasn’t having it. She planted herself firmly in front of them, blocking their path as her gaze darted between the two brothers. “No. I want answers. You two were supposed to protect her, and now she’s up there crying her heart out! What did you do?”

Stefan’s jaw tightened, his usual calm demeanor wavering as he glanced up the stairs, clearly worried about you. He looked back at Elena, his tone soft but steady. “It wasn’t us, Elena. Katherine showed up tonight.”

Elena blinked, taken aback, and for a moment, her angry expression faltered. “Katherine?” She let out an exasperated sigh. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

Damon’s eyes darkened, his expression guarded. “She’s the reason Y/N was crying. Katherine… she told her something. Something that none of us saw coming.”

Elena rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “What, that she has some new plan to ruin our lives? Or that she’s out to hurt us all again?” She crossed her arms tighter, an edge of skepticism in her voice.

Stefan took a step closer, his expression serious. “No, Elena. She told Y/N that she’s her mother.”

Elena’s mouth dropped open, and then she let out a short, incredulous laugh. “What? You can’t be serious. That’s just… Katherine being Katherine. She’s playing one of her twisted games, and you two actually believe her?”

Damon crossed his arms, his gaze steady. “We don’t know for sure, but it hit Y/N hard. Katherine told her she came back specifically because Mikael was after her, and that the only reason she stayed away this long was to protect her.”

Elena scoffed, rolling her eyes again. “And you actually think that’s true? Katherine only looks out for herself. She’s lied to all of us more times than I can count. This is just another manipulation tactic to get under Y/N’s skin, and clearly, it worked.”

Stefan looked at her, a flicker of frustration in his usually composed expression. “It’s not that simple, Elena. Katherine seemed… different. She was cold, but there was something else in her eyes when she looked at Y/N. Something real. And Y/N feels it too, even if she doesn’t know what to make of it.”

Elena’s eyes blazed with anger as she shook her head, disbelief twisting her features. “So, let me get this straight. Katherine shows up, spins some ridiculous story about being Y/N’s mother, and you two just… believe her? She’s doing this to mess with her head, to make her doubt herself, and you’re playing right into it.”

Damon’s face hardened, his voice dropping to a dangerous calm. “Elena, believe what you want, but you didn’t see the way Y/N reacted. She’s not just upset, she’s questioning everything about her life right now. Katherine got to her in a way none of us expected, and if there’s even a chance that she’s telling the truth, then Y/N has the right to know.”

Elena let out a frustrated noise, pacing back and forth. “She has a family, me, and she’s letting Katherine, of all people, get inside her head. It’s exactly what Katherine wants! You two were supposed to protect her from people like her, not indulge in her twisted mind games.”

Stefan’s patience seemed to wear thin as he stepped closer to Elena, his tone firm. “We’re trying to protect her, Elena. But this isn’t just some lie we can brush off. For Y/N, this is about her identity. Whether it’s true or not, she deserves the space to figure it out without us dismissing her feelings.”

Elena’s expression hardened, and she shot them both an accusatory glare. “So, what, you’re just going to let Katherine manipulate her, twist her around until she doesn’t know who she is? I thought you cared about her.”

Damon’s eyes flared with anger, his voice sharp. “We do care, Elena. That’s why we’re letting her make her own choices. She’s strong, stronger than you’re giving her credit for. This isn’t about controlling her; it’s about giving her the support she needs.”

Elena scoffed, disbelief still evident in her tone. “Right. Support. By letting Katherine just walk into her life and saying that My twin is her daughter.”

Stefan shook his head, his voice calm but unyielding. “Elena, if you want to help, then be there for her when she’s ready to talk. She needs her family right now, and that includes you. But we can’t ignore the possibility that there’s more to her story than we know.”

Elena opened her mouth to protest, but before she could say anything, a quiet sound drifted down from the stairs, a muffled sob, barely audible but enough to pierce through the tense silence in the room.

All three of them paused, their gazes turning toward the stairs. The anger in Elena’s expression softened, replaced by a flicker of worry as she listened to the sound of your crying. A moment passed, and she let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping slightly as she seemed to grapple with her frustration and concern.

Damon glanced at her, his tone softening. “She’s up there, questioning everything she thought she knew. We’re not asking you to believe Katherine, we’re just asking you to be there for her, to understand what she’s going through.”

Elena looked at him, her expression conflicted, but finally nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Fine. I’ll… try. But I don’t trust Katherine, and neither should any of you.”

Stefan gave her a small, reassuring nod. “None of us trust her, Elena. But right now, Y/N needs us to support her. We’ll deal with Katherine later.”

With a final, wary look, Elena relented, letting the tension slip from her posture. Damon and Stefan exchanged a relieved glance, and with a quiet sigh, they moved toward the stairs to check on you, hoping that when the time came, all of you could face the truth together, whatever it turned out to be.

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