#Nik Filters

[cod-dump]

Ghost: I’m going to use your neck as a stress toy and squeeze until your eyes pop out of your skull

Graves: I-

Nik: Careful, he’ll enjoy it

Graves: NIK

Ghost: NO- *gags loudly*

Nik: He really enjoys it when you-

Graves, slapping a hand over his mouth while bright red: SHUT UP-

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Nik's titties and arms = too powerful for innocent eyes. John's back and abs with dick bulge hint = fine. Tumblr is anti-Bear and pro-Wolf. The audacity.

[vegan-kaktus]

How to install Nik's Collection of Filters in Photoshop 2025

I couldn't for the life of me get this to work on PS 2025. It crashed, and when I finally managed to get it to not crash, Nik's collection didn't show up under filters. I found various threads with similiar problems, but none of the solutions worked for me so I thought I'd make a tutorial on how I solved it.

Grab Nik's Collection of Filters here via wayback, or here directly from Google.

Double click on the .exe and follow the instructions.

When it asks you for a "host", click on the + and choose this folder: C:\Program Files\Common Files

After you've finished installing, go to C:\Program Files\Common Files and make a shortcut of the folder named "Google" (I removed the "- shortcut" in the name, not sure if that's necessary).

Go to C:\Program Files\Common Files\Adobe\Plug-Ins\CC and paste/move the shortcut there.

You're done! Photoshop won't crash and the "Nik Collection" will show up under filters.

[demie90s]

Come To Me

꒰ 🍒 ꒱ Nika Mühl X READER ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ MASTERLIST

ALL PARTS

⭑ pairing: Nika Mühl x Reader (rich!fem!reader)

⭑ summary: When you find out Nika’s been silently going through something heavy, it hits hard. Your mad—not the yelling kind, but the quiet, cut-deep kind. You walk away to fix it, not fight it. And even with the space, you still plans dates, and get Nika things asking. Because the love doesn’t stop. It just hurts more when it’s her.

⭑ genre: Soft angst, emotional support, quiet luxury, love-through-pain

⭑ warnings: Mental health themes, emotionally charged silence, loving someone who hides their pain

⭑ word count: ~ 0.8k

Nobody really noticed at first.

Nika’s good at that—being a little off without making it obvious. She still showed up to practice. Still laughed at KK’s dumbass jokes. Still walked through the locker room like her playlist was louder than whatever was in her head.

But me? I noticed.

Little things. The way she didn’t finish her smoothie even though it was from that spot. The way she stopped taking naps in my bed. The silence in our shared group chats, her phone lighting up but her fingers never moving. She still posted. Still smiled in public. But in private? She didn’t say much. And when she did, it was short. Tight. Like it hurt to let words out.

I asked once—“You good?”

She said, “Yeah.”

I asked again, a few days later—“Nika, seriously. What’s up?”

She just kissed me and said, “I’m tired.”

And that should’ve been enough. But it wasn’t.

Not when I found out later—by accident—that she’d been dealing with something serious. Like serious serious. Family shit. Mental health shit. Isolation, panic, shame, all rolled into one invisible weight she’d been carrying without saying a word to anybody. Not to me. Not to Paige. Not even to herself out loud.

And when I heard it?

When I heard it from someone else?

My whole chest sank.

Not because she was struggling. I could handle that. I wanted to handle that. But because she didn’t let me. She didn’t even try.

So when she walked into the locker room that day, acting like nothing had happened, I didn’t yell. Didn’t slam anything. Didn’t even look at her. I just stood up, said, “I’m leaving,” and walked out.

Paige blinked. “Wait—what happened?”

KK whispered, “She mad?”

Azzi squinted. “Nah. She’s calm. That’s worse.”

And it was. Because when I’m mad on the court, I get loud. I push. I foul. I step over people and dare them to make it something. But this wasn’t that kind of mad. This was hurt. This was you really didn’t trust me to carry it with you kind of mad.

I didn’t talk to her for the rest of the night. Didn’t answer texts. Didn’t check her location. I just drove. Found a little spot near the lake, sat with my head back, and figured out how to fix it.

Because I love her. So much it makes me sick sometimes. So much it physically hurts to think of her suffering alone.

And when I finally walked back into the dorm, she was sitting on my bed, hoodie on, head low. Sad.

Still didn’t say much.

So I did what I do best.

I fixed it.

⸻

“Put your shoes on,” I told her quietly, grabbing my keys and a blanket from the hall closet.

She didn’t move at first.

“Nik,” I said softer. “Come on. I know you be down sometimes. Let’s go.”

She followed me without asking questions. No makeup. No filters. Just raw, soft-eyed sadness and the quiet trust that I’d do what she couldn’t.

We drove in silence.

When we got to the lake, I laid the blanket down and pulled out the snacks I’d packed. Stuff she likes. Not the loud comfort food—but the little things. Fruit slices. Croissants. Her favorite tea. That one weird yogurt drink she swears only exists in Europe but I found on Amazon.

She sat down next to me, knees pulled to her chest. Still quiet.

“I’m not mad at you,” I said eventually. “Not really.”

She looked at me sideways. “Could’ve fooled me.”

I nodded. “I’m just… hurt.”

“I didn’t want to dump it on you.”

I stared at the water. “I’m not everybody, Nika.”

She didn’t answer.

“I love you,” I said plainly. “So much that it drives me insane sometimes. And when you go through shit without me? It makes me feel like I failed you.”

That got her.

She leaned into me. No words. Just pressure. Just presence.

I let her breathe. Let her cry a little without saying the word “cry.” And when she was ready, we laid back and looked at the sky like it could hold us up.

⸻

The next few days, I still didn’t say much. But I showed up.

She’d be sitting on the couch, eyes low, scrolling through nothing, and I’d walk in with food. Didn’t ask what she wanted. I already knew.

“Here,” I’d say, setting it down. “Eat.”

“Thanks,” she’d murmur.

“Don’t thank me. Just eat.”

Another day, I texted her: Get dressed. Bring your hoodie. No questions.

She showed up and there was a picnic laid out in the courtyard. Not dramatic. Just cozy. Just hers.

Paige caught it all on live.

“This girl got her out here like it’s a damn romcom, happy for my twin though” she muttered, filming from behind a bush.

⸻

The comments blew up.

“IS THAT NIKA AND Y/N??”

“The way she just KNEW something was wrong…”

“Y/n’s love language is fixing everything silently and with snacks I fear.”

⸻

I never said “Don’t ever do that again.” I didn’t need to.

She knew.

But I still love her. Still spoil her. Still slide her gifts on off-days and sneak extra tea packets into her hoodie pocket. Because love doesn’t stop when it hurts.

If anything, it gets louder in silence.

[thequeenofneverland1]

Klaus Mikaelson///The Lost Promise

Anonymous Request: l would love if you could do a Klaus imagine you can pick

Warnings: Emotional Themes, Childhood Trauma, Witchcraft, Teenage Relationships, Family Conflict and Magical Realism

You and Klaus Mikaelson had been inseparable since you were little kids. From the moment you first met, it was as if some invisible thread connected your lives. Whether it was running through the woods, climbing trees, or daring each other into mischief, you two were a perfect team. Klaus, with his mischievous grin and fiery determination, always had a way of making you laugh, even when you didn’t want to. And you, with your steady presence and unwavering loyalty, were the one person Klaus trusted above all else.

One summer afternoon, as you both sat under the old oak tree near the edge of the meadow, Klaus turned to you, his blue eyes shining with a seriousness you weren’t used to seeing.

“You know,” he began, his voice quieter than usual, “one day, I’m going to marry you.”

You blinked, taken aback by his words. “Marry me?” you repeated, half-laughing, half-curious.

He nodded, his face earnest now. “Of course. You’re my best friend, and you understand me better than anyone. Who else could I possibly want to spend my life with?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, unsure of how to respond. You wanted to tease him, to brush it off as one of his wild ideas, but something about the way he looked at you made you pause. It wasn’t just the innocent declaration of a child—it was a promise, spoken with a conviction that made your heart skip a beat.

“Well,” you said after a moment, trying to keep your tone light, “you’d better behave yourself if you want me to agree to that.”

Klaus grinned, his dimples showing as he leaned back against the tree. “I always behave,” he said with a wink, making you roll your eyes.

The warm glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the window, bathing the room in golden light as Klaus focused intently on the canvas in front of him. You sat on a stool by the window, the sunlight catching in your hair and making you look like something out of one of his beloved books. Klaus was quiet, his brows furrowed in concentration, the only sound in the room the soft scratch of his paintbrush on the canvas.

“Sit still, love,” he muttered without looking up. “I’m almost finished.”

You sighed dramatically, shifting in your seat. “You’ve been saying that for an hour, Klausy. My legs are starting to fall asleep.”

He smirked, glancing at you with that mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Perfection takes time, you know. You wouldn’t want me to rush, would you?”

Before you could answer, the door to the room burst open, and in walked Rebekah, her arms crossed and her blonde hair falling around her shoulders. She looked between the two of you, her lips pressing into a pout.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Rebekah declared, her voice filled with playful exasperation. “You’ve been hogging her all morning, Nik. Now it’s my turn.”

Klaus didn’t look away from his work, his focus unbroken. “Patience, little sister. I’m in the middle of something important.”

Rebekah rolled her eyes and stepped closer, placing her hands on her hips. “Important? You’ve been painting her all day! It’s not fair. She’s my friend too, you know.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Rebekah’s dramatic stance. “It’s okay, Bekah. I’ve been sitting here long enough. I think I deserve a break.”

Klaus frowned, finally setting his brush down and turning toward you. “You don’t mind, do you? I’ve only a few finishing touches left. Another hour, maybe two—”

“Two hours?!” Rebekah interrupted, grabbing your hand and pulling you off the stool. “No way. You’ve had her long enough. She’s coming with me now, Nik.”

You stumbled to your feet, laughing as Rebekah practically dragged you toward the door. Klaus leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms and smirking at his sister’s antics.

“Fine, take her,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. “But don’t be surprised when she comes back to me later. She always does.”

Rebekah stuck her tongue out at him before looking at you with a grin. “Come on. Let’s do something fun. I promise it’ll be way more exciting than sitting still for Nik’s latest masterpiece.”

You glanced back at Klaus as Rebekah pulled you out of the room. He watched you go, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. Even as his sister claimed your attention, he knew there was something unshakable about your bond a connection neither time nor distance could ever break.

The next morning, the garden was still damp with dew, and the scent of blooming flowers filled the air. Underneath the same apple tree, Klaus sat cross-legged with a determined look on his face. His lap was filled with freshly picked flowers of every color roses, daisies, and wild violets. Their vibrant petals were carefully arranged as he worked, weaving them together with a focus that made it clear this wasn’t just a casual project.

From a few feet away, you watched him curiously, your hands tucked behind your back. “Klaus?” you called out, stepping closer.

He looked up, startled for a moment before his expression softened. “You’re not supposed to see this yet,” he muttered, quickly hunching over his creation as though to shield it from view.

You tilted your head and grinned, crouching beside him. “What are you doing?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said firmly, though his lips quirked into a small smile. “If I tell you, it won’t be special anymore.”

You tried to peek over his shoulder, but he shifted, blocking your view. “Come on, just a little hint?”

“No hints,” he replied, his tone playful but resolute. “You’ll see when it’s done.”

Deciding not to push, you settled beside him and watched as he worked. His hands moved carefully, threading the delicate flowers into a crown. Every now and then, he’d glance at you out of the corner of his eye, as if to make sure you were still there.

After what felt like an eternity, Klaus finally sat up straight, holding the finished flower crown in his hands. It was beautiful, the vibrant blossoms arranged in a perfect circle. He hesitated for a moment before turning to you, his cheeks slightly pink.

“Here,” he said, his voice softer now. “I made this for you.”

Your eyes widened as he gently placed the crown on your head, adjusting it so it sat perfectly. “Klaus,” you breathed, touching the flowers lightly. “It’s beautiful.”

He smiled, his cheeks flushing deeper. “I told you it was a surprise. Now you look like a real queen.”

“A queen, huh?” you teased, giving him a playful nudge. “What happened to princess? You’ve been calling me that since forever.”

Klaus shrugged, a spark of mischief in his eyes. “A princess is fine, but a queen is better. Besides, a queen rules over everyone including annoying sisters like Rebekah.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, thank you, King Klaus. I feel very royal now.”

“You should,” he said proudly. Then, in a quieter voice, he added, “I thought it would suit you. You deserve something special.”

Touched by his words, you leaned forward and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Klaus. You’re the best.”

For a moment, he froze, startled by the sudden affection. Then he relaxed, his small arms wrapping around you. “You’re welcome,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of pride.

From a distance, Rebekah peeked out from behind the garden gate, rolling her eyes but smiling fondly. “Honestly,” she muttered to herself, “he’s hopeless when it comes to her.”

The sun was beginning its lazy descent when you and Klaus finished building your fort in the middle of the his garden. It wasn’t anything fancy just an assortment of blankets and sheets draped over low-hanging branches and secured with stones and sticks but to the two of you, it was a grand castle. Inside, Klaus had laid down a soft patch of grass and arranged a few pillows he’d snuck out from the house.

“Perfect,” he said, brushing his hands off and stepping back to admire your work. “Our own secret hideout.”

You crawled inside and settled into the cozy space, a grin spreading across your face. “It’s amazing! But are you sure Rebekah won’t find it? She always finds us.”

Klaus smirked and crawled in after you, his blue eyes glinting with mischief. “Not this time. I made sure she was busy with her dolls. She won’t bother us.”

You giggled and leaned back against one of the pillows. “Well, even if she does, we’ll defend our fort. It’s our castle, after all.”

“Exactly,” Klaus said, lying down beside you. “And no one else is allowed but us.”

But just as the words left his mouth, the sound of footsteps and muffled laughter reached your ears. Klaus immediately sat up, his face darkening. “No,” he muttered, crawling to the entrance of the fort.

Before he could say anything, the flap of the makeshift entrance was pulled aside, and Kol’s cheeky face appeared. “Well, well, what have we here?” Kol said, grinning as he peeked inside. “A secret hideout? And you didn’t invite your favorite brother?”

“Go away, Kol,” Klaus growled, crossing his arms and glaring at his younger brother.

“Why would I do that when there’s clearly enough room for everyone?” Kol teased, ducking inside before Klaus could stop him.

Next came Rebekah, tugging Finn and Elijah along behind her. “I knew you two were up to something,” she declared, her golden curls bouncing as she climbed into the fort. “You always sneak off together! It’s not fair.”

Finn, ever the serious one, raised an eyebrow as he inspected the fort. “It’s… cozy, I suppose,” he said diplomatically.

Elijah, on the other hand, crouched gracefully at the entrance, his expression amused. “Niklaus, you could have simply told us you were building a fort. There’s no need to be so secretive.”

Klaus’s hands clenched into fists, and his face turned red with frustration. “It wasn’t for you!” he snapped. “This is our fort. mine and Y/n’s. You can’t just barge in!”

You tried to stifle a laugh as Kol flopped onto a pillow, smirking. “Oh, come on, Nik. Don’t be such a grump. You can’t keep her all to yourself.”

“Yes, I can!” Klaus shot back, his voice firm. He moved to sit protectively in front of you, his small frame practically vibrating with irritation.

Rebekah rolled her eyes and plopped down beside you, looping her arm through yours. “Honestly, Y/n, I don’t know how you put up with him. He’s so possessive.”

Klaus growled low in his throat, a sound that made even Finn look mildly concerned. “I’m not possessive,” he grumbled, his glare darting to Rebekah. “I just don’t want any of you ruining this.”

You placed a calming hand on Klaus’s arm, smiling softly. “It’s okay, Klaus. They’re just curious. We can still have fun.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening slightly, though his glare returned the moment Kol started poking at the fort’s supports. “Don’t touch that!” Klaus barked, leaping to his feet.

Kol held up his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right! No need to lose your temper, big brother.”

Elijah chuckled and settled near the entrance. “Perhaps we should leave them to their fort-building, Kol. It seems Niklaus values his time with Y/n more than our company.”

Rebekah pouted but stood up reluctantly. “Fine. But don’t think this means I’m giving up on spending time with you, Y/n.”

As the others filed out of the fort, Klaus let out a relieved sigh and turned back to you. “Finally,” he muttered, flopping down beside you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You really don’t like sharing, do you?”

Klaus glanced at you, his expression softening into a small smile. “Not when it comes to you,” he admitted quietly. “This is our castle. No one else belongs here.”

Touched by his words, you leaned your head on his shoulder. “Well, your castle is safe now, King Klaus. Just the two of us.”

And as the sun dipped lower in the sky, the two of you stayed there, tucked away in your little fort, as if the rest of the world didn’t exist.

The morning sun had risen high, signaling it was nearly lunchtime, and the scent of something delicious wafted from the kitchen. You and Klaus had finally emerged from your fort, hand in hand, with grass stains on your knees and twigs tangled in your hair. As you walked back toward the house, you were greeted by Esther, standing on the porch with her warm yet strangely expectant smile.

“There you two are,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron. “I was beginning to think you’d gotten lost in the garden.” She stepped closer, brushing a stray leaf from your hair. “Y/n, why don’t you stay for lunch? We’re having roast with fresh bread and fruit your favorite.”

You hesitated, offering her a polite smile. “Thank you, Mrs Mikaelson, but I can’t today. My parents are having company, so I need to go home soon.”

Esther’s smile faltered just slightly, though her eyes lingered on you, her voice turning softer. “Oh, Y/n, you know you can call me Mom. You spend so much time here; it’s practically true.”

Klaus tensed beside you, gripping your hand a little tighter. He’d heard her say that before, and every time, he’d bristle. He didn’t like the way his mother tried to claim you as her own, even in jest.

You gave Esther a polite but firm smile. “Thank you, but I already have a mom. And she’s expecting me for lunch today.”

Esther’s smile tightened, but before she could say anything else, Klaus spoke up. “Why do you have to go?” he asked, his voice tinged with disappointment. “You always stay for lunch.”

You turned to him, guilt tugging at your heart. “I know, Klaus, but my parents have friends coming over. I have to be there.”

“Friends?” he repeated, narrowing his eyes slightly. “Who are they?”

You shrugged casually. “Just some old friends of my parents. They’re bringing their kids too.”

The word “kids” seemed to hit Klaus like a brick. His grip on your hand tightened further, and his brows knit together in what could only be described as a jealous scowl. “You didn’t say anything about other kids,” he muttered.

You tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “I didn’t think it was a big deal.”

“It is a big deal,” Klaus insisted, his voice a touch louder now. “What if they’re boring? Or mean? Or—” His voice dropped, his gaze shifting to the ground. “What if you like them better than me?”

You blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. Gently, you placed a hand on his shoulder. “Klaus, no one’s going to replace you. You’re my best friend.”

He glanced up at you, his blue eyes filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. “Promise?”

You smiled warmly and held out your pinky finger. “I promise.”

Reluctantly, he linked his pinky with yours, though he still looked less than pleased. “But what if they try to steal you away?”

You laughed, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me, Klaus. No one could ever steal me away from you. You’re one of a kind.”

For a moment, Klaus’s lips quirked into a small smile, but it quickly faded as he glanced back at the house. “I don’t like it,” he grumbled. “You should stay here. You don’t need new friends.”

Esther, who had been quietly watching the exchange, stepped forward and placed a hand on Klaus’s shoulder. “Now, Niklaus,” she said in a soothing tone, though her gaze was fixed on you. “You know Y/n will always come back. This is her second home, after all.”

You gave Esther a polite nod but couldn’t shake the strange feeling her words gave you. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” you assured Klaus, ignoring the way Esther’s eyes seemed to light up at your words.

“Fine,” Klaus muttered, though he didn’t let go of your hand until you started walking away.

As you left, you glanced back to see him standing on the porch, his arms crossed and his face set in a sulk. Despite the jealousy written all over his expression, the way he watched you go made your heart squeeze.

Little did you know, Klaus would spend the rest of the afternoon glaring at the garden, imagining all the ways he could outshine the “new kids” you were about to meet. To him, no one else deserved your attention not now, not ever.

Y/M/N and Y/D/N, were bustling around the dining room as you helped set the table for lunch. The scent of freshly baked bread and roasted vegetables wafted through the air, making your stomach rumble.your mother, was meticulously arranging a floral centerpiece while your father, checked on the roast in the kitchen.

“Did you wash your hands, darling?” She asked without looking up, her tone brisk but affectionate.

“Yes, Mom,” you replied, carefully placing the silverware at each seat. “Do you want me to fold the napkins like last time?”

“That would be lovely,” she said, pausing to adjust one of the candlesticks. Then, her gaze flicked to you, sharp but curious. “So, how was your morning? I assume you were with them again.”

You hesitated, knowing exactly who she meant. Your parents never hid their distaste for the Mikaelson family. They thought them strange, dangerous even, though they never elaborated on why. still, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop spending time with them especially Klaus.

“I was with Klaus and his siblings,” you admitted, keeping your tone light. “We built a fort in the woods. It was fun.”

Your dad appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “You know how we feel about you spending time with those Mikaelson children,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “They’re… not the kind of people we want you associating with.”

“They’re my friends,” you said quietly, focusing on folding the napkins into neat triangles. “They’ve never done anything to me.”

“Not yet,” your mother muttered under her breath, placing the centerpiece down with a little more force than necessary.

You sighed, glancing between them. “Why don’t you like them? They’re not bad people. Klaus is—” You stopped yourself, unsure how to explain your bond with him without sounding defensive.

Your mother exchanged a look with your dad before shaking her head. “It’s not about them being bad,” she said, though her tone suggested otherwise. “It’s about them being… different. Their family is shrouded in secrecy, and secrets often lead to trouble. We just want to protect you.”

“You can’t protect me from everything,” you mumbled under your breath, feeling a pang of frustration.

Your dad’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on your shoulder. “We’re not trying to be unfair, sweetheart. We just want what’s best for you. And trust me, the Mikaelsons are far from that.”

Before you could respond, the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of your parents’ guests. Your mother straightened her blouse, her demeanor shifting into one of polite hospitality.

“Let’s not argue about this now,” she said firmly. “Go let them in, will you?”

You nodded, heading toward the door. But as you walked, a small part of you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt. Klaus had always been there for you, and you hated that your parents couldn’t see the good in him. Still, you plastered on a smile as you opened the door, greeting the cheerful family standing on the porch.

In the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but wonder how Klaus would react if he knew how your parents felt about him and if they’d ever change their minds about the boy who meant so much to you.

Klaus barely touched his plate. He sat at the long dining table, poking at his food with a fork, his mind miles away. The roast chicken and fresh bread that normally would’ve excited him went unnoticed as his thoughts kept circling back to you.

His siblings were loud as usual, Kol cracking jokes that made Rebekah groan, while Elijah tried to maintain some semblance of order. Even Finn, who was often quiet, chimed in about the day’s events. But Klaus didn’t join in their laughter or teasing. Instead, he stared at his plate, lost in his own little world.

“Klaus, eat your food,” Esther said, her tone light but laced with authority as she observed him from her end of the table. “You’ve barely had a bite.”

“I’m not hungry,” he muttered, swirling a piece of bread in the gravy without lifting it to his mouth.

Rebekah, seated beside him, nudged his arm. “What’s wrong with you, Nik? You’ve been acting strange ever since she left. Are you sulking because you can’t spend the whole day with her?”

Kol smirked from across the table, leaning back in his chair with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Aw, poor Niklaus. Missing his little girlfriend already?”

Klaus’s head snapped up, and he shot Kol a glare that could have melted ice. “Shut up, Kol,” he growled, his voice low and warning.

“Don’t tease him,” Elijah said, ever the peacekeeper, though his lips twitched with faint amusement. “It’s natural for Klaus to miss her. They’ve spent nearly every waking moment together this week.”

Klaus ignored them, dropping his fork with a clatter and leaning back in his chair. He couldn’t stop thinking about what you had said earlier about your parents’ friends and their children. Who were they? What were they like? Were they already making you laugh? Did they know about the way you smiled when you were excited, or how you crinkled your nose when you were thinking hard about something?

The thought of you spending time with someone else someone who wasn’t him made his chest tighten in a way he didn’t fully understand. All he knew was that he didn’t like it.

“You shouldn’t worry so much, Nik,” Rebekah said, softening her tone when she saw his furrowed brow. “She always comes back. You know she does.”

Klaus glanced at her, his expression still guarded. “What if this time is different?” he murmured, his voice quieter now.

Rebekah rolled her eyes but gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “She’s not going to forget about you just because she’s meeting some new kids. You’re her best friend, remember?”

Klaus didn’t respond, but her words offered him a small bit of comfort. Still, he couldn’t shake the nagging jealousy in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m going to the fort,” he announced abruptly, pushing back his chair and standing.

“Now?” Finn asked, raising an eyebrow. “You haven’t even finished eating.”

Klaus didn’t answer, already heading toward the door. He needed to be in the place that was yours, the place that felt like it belonged to the two of you alone. Maybe being there would help him feel closer to you, even if you weren’t there with him.

As he walked through the woods toward the fort, Klaus found himself replaying your last conversation in his head. He clenched his fists, silently promising himself that no matter what, he wouldn’t let anyone take your attention or your friendship away from him.

The living room was alive with the sound of laughter and conversation as your parents’ guests settled in. Their children two boys and a girl, all around your age were running around, already making themselves at home. You sat on the floor in the corner, carefully arranging a tray of cookies your mother had asked you to prepare, but your mind was elsewhere.

“Are you alright, dear?” Your mother asked as she passed by, her tone soft but probing. She placed a hand on your shoulder and gave you a quick, searching look.

You forced a smile, nodding. “I’m fine. Just tired, I guess.”

Your mother frowned but didn’t press further, returning to the adults gathered around the coffee table. You turned your attention back to the tray, but your thoughts kept drifting to Klaus.

You couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt for leaving him behind earlier. You knew how much he hated sharing your attention, and you could still see the disappointed look in his eyes when you told him you couldn’t stay for lunch. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be with him it was just hard to explain to your parents why spending time with the Mikaelsons meant so much to you.

“You’re being quiet,” a voice interrupted your thoughts.

You looked up to see one of the boys, a blond with an easy grin, standing over you. His name was Henry, and he was one of the children your parents had insisted you make friends with. He gestured to the tray in front of you. “Need help?”

“Oh, no, I’ve got it,” you said quickly, not wanting to engage too much.

Henry didn’t seem deterred, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside you. “So, your parents told us you’re really good at drawing. Can I see something you’ve made?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the adults to see if they were listening. “Um, maybe later,” you said, not wanting to seem rude but also not particularly interested in sharing.

Henry smiled, seemingly unfazed by your lack of enthusiasm. “Sure. Later, then.”

The girl, Amelia, soon joined you as well, pulling a chair over to sit nearby. “Your house is so nice,” she said, her voice bright and cheerful. “Do you live close to the woods? I saw a treehouse on the way here. Is it yours?”

For a moment, your heart skipped. You realized she must have seen the treehouse you and Klaus had built. “No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “That’s not mine. Just… something someone built a long time ago.”

Amelia shrugged, clearly uninterested in the details. “Still cool,” she said, popping a cookie into her mouth.

As the three of them continued chatting, you found yourself zoning out again, your mind wandering back to the fort. You wondered if Klaus had gone back there after you left. Maybe he was sitting inside right now, working on one of his sketches or carving another piece of wood. You could almost picture him there, his brow furrowed in concentration, the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the branches.

“Hey, are you listening?” Henry asked, snapping you back to reality.

“Sorry,” you said, shaking your head. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you wanted to play outside,” he said, motioning toward the backyard. “There’s a swing set out there, and your mom said we could explore a little.”

“Oh,” you said, hesitating. The last thing you wanted was to wander too close to the woods and accidentally run into Klaus while you were with these kids. You could only imagine how that would go. “Maybe later. I think I’ll just stay here for now.”

Henry and the others exchanged glances, but they didn’t press you. As they got up and headed toward the door, you felt a wave of relief. Finally, a moment to yourself.

You leaned back against the couch, staring at the tray of cookies that now seemed perfectly arranged. You felt torn between the two worlds you were constantly straddling your parents’ expectations and the bond you shared with Klaus and his siblings.

It was exhausting, and yet, you couldn’t imagine giving up your friendship with Klaus. No matter what your parents thought, he was an anchor for you, someone who made you feel truly seen.

With a deep breath, you resolved to finish up here as quickly as possible. As much as you appreciated your parents’ efforts to introduce you to new people, your heart wasn’t in it. You belonged in the woods, in the fort you and Klaus had built together. And as soon as you could, you’d go back to him, where you truly felt at home.

The next morning, the woods were quiet except for the sound of leaves crunching beneath your feet as you made your way to the treehouse. The early sunlight streamed through the branches, casting golden patterns on the ground. You had woken up early, unable to stop thinking about Klaus and the others, and decided to bring a peace offering of sorts to make up for leaving them behind the day before.

When you reached the treehouse, you climbed the makeshift ladder of wooden planks nailed to the tree. The sound of laughter greeted you as you neared the top. Peeking inside, you saw Klaus, Rebekah, Kol, Elijah, and even Finn sitting in a circle, talking and laughing together.

The moment you stepped inside, their heads turned toward you.

“There she is!” Kol said dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. “We thought you’d forgotten about us!”

Rebekah shot him a look before smiling warmly at you. “We missed you yesterday,” she said, scooting over to make room for you to sit beside her.

But it was Klaus who moved the fastest, standing up and coming to meet you before you’d even fully entered. His blue eyes lit up the moment he saw you, and his lips curved into a small, relieved smile. “You’re here,” he said simply, his tone softer than the others.

“Of course I’m here,” you said, smiling back as you stepped into the space. You were still holding the small basket you’d brought, and everyone’s eyes shifted to it almost immediately.

“What’s that?” Elijah asked, his curiosity piqued.

“Yeah,” Kol added, leaning forward with a grin. “What’ve you got there? Is that a gift for us?”

You sat down and placed the basket in the center of the circle, pulling back the cloth that covered it. “Brownies,” you announced with a mischievous smile. “My parents baked them yesterday for their friends, and I… well, I might’ve stolen a few.”

Kol burst into laughter. “You stole from your parents? You’re braver than I thought!”

Rebekah gasped, but her lips twitched with amusement. “You could’ve gotten caught!”

“I know,” you said with a shrug, passing the basket around. “But I figured you all deserved something after I had to leave yesterday. Besides, it’s not like they’ll miss a few brownies.”

Klaus sat beside you, grabbing a brownie from the basket but keeping his eyes on you. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said, though his tone was appreciative.

“I wanted to,” you replied, meeting his gaze briefly before looking away.

As everyone dug into the treats, Finn asked, “So, how did it go yesterday? Did you have fun with your parents’ friends?”

You hesitated, chewing a bite of your brownie while trying to think of how to answer. “It went… good, I guess,” you said finally. “Their kids were nice enough. My parents seemed happy, so I guess that’s all that matters.”

“Did they stay late?” Elijah asked, always the polite one.

You nodded. “Yeah, actually. They stayed over for the night. My mom said it was too late for them to drive back, so they all stayed in the guest rooms.”

Rebekah wrinkled her nose. “That sounds awful. Having strangers in your house all night?”

“It wasn’t so bad,” you admitted. “They were polite, but… I don’t know. It’s just weird having people I don’t know around all the time.”

Klaus frowned, leaning closer to you. “Did they bother you?” he asked, his voice low and serious.

“No, Klaus,” you said with a small laugh, reaching out to nudge his arm. “They didn’t bother me. It was fine, really. Just… not the same as being with you guys.”

That made him smile, a small, satisfied expression that he quickly tried to hide by taking another bite of his brownie.

“Well, you’re back with us now,” Kol said, leaning back with a contented sigh. “And you brought sweets. All is forgiven.”

Rebekah nodded, her smile bright. “You’ll have to stay with us all day to make up for yesterday, though.”

“Deal,” you said, settling into the comfortable space with your friends.

Klaus stayed close to you for the rest of the morning, quietly content that you were back where you belonged wth him and no one else.

As you sat in the treehouse with the siblings, the morning was filled with laughter and easy conversation. Klaus had taken a seat beside you, leaning slightly closer than usual, while Kol was already working on another outrageous story to entertain everyone.

But the peaceful moment was interrupted when faint shouting reached your ears from the distance. The Mikaelsons immediately fell silent, their sharp senses picking up on the sound. Klaus narrowed his eyes, glancing toward the small window of the treehouse.

“What’s that?” Rebekah whispered, her voice low.

You leaned forward, straining to hear. As the shouting grew louder, you realized it was Amelia, Henry and His twin brother Dylan. They must have wandered off while their parents weren’t paying attention.

“Just stay quiet,” you whispered, glancing at the siblings . “If they don’t know we’re here, they’ll go away.”

Kol smirked, leaning back against the wall. “Oh, this is going to be fun. Let’s see how long it takes them to figure out they’re trespassing.��

Klaus shot him a warning look but didn’t say anything, his focus on the voices approaching the treehouse.

“They’re probably looking for you,” Elijah said quietly, his tone calm but serious.

You nodded, your heart sinking. “Probably. Just… don’t make a sound, okay?”

Outside, the voices became clearer.

“This is such a cool treehouse!” Amelia’s voice rang out, full of excitement. “Look at it, Henry! It’s so much bigger than ours back home.”

Henry groaned. “Yeah, it’s nice, but we shouldn’t be here. Look, there’s a sign.”

There was a brief rustling sound as one of them presumably read the note tacked near the bottom of the treehouse ladder a note written in Klaus’s distinctive, sharp handwriting.

“It says, ‘This treehouse belongs to Klaus Mikaelson. Trespassers will be dealt with,’” Henry read aloud. His tone was cautious, and you could almost picture his wide eyes as he glanced around.

“Trespassers will be dealt with?” Dylan repeated, his voice small and nervous. “That sounds scary. Maybe we should go back.”

“Oh, come on,” Amelia said with a dismissive laugh. “It’s probably just a joke. Who even writes stuff like that? It’s not like anyone’s up there right now.”

You froze, exchanging a quick glance with Rebekah, who raised an eyebrow as if to say, Should we let them figure it out?

“I don’t think we should go in,” Henry said firmly, his voice closer now. “It’s not ours, and I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“But it’s so cool,” Amelia whined. “Don’t you want to see what’s inside? Maybe there’s treasure or something!”

Kol bit back a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand. “Treasure?” he mouthed, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

Klaus, however, wasn’t amused. His jaw tightened as he leaned closer to the window, clearly ready to intervene if they got any closer.

“Stay out,” he muttered under his breath, his voice so low that only you and his siblings could hear.

Henry sighed loudly. “No, Amelia. We’re not going in. Let’s just go back before Mom and Dad realize we’re gone.”

“But—” Amelia started, her voice growing fainter as her twins brothers seemed to pull her away.

The Mikaelsons all let out a collective breath as the voices began to fade.

“Well, that was entertaining,” Kol said, still grinning. “I almost wanted them to climb up so we could scare them.”

Rebekah rolled her eyes. “You’re awful, Kol.”

“Exactly,” Elijah said with a small, disapproving shake of his head. “There’s no need to involve ourselves in unnecessary drama.”

Klaus didn’t say anything at first, his eyes still fixed on the window as if ensuring they were truly gone. Then, he turned to you, his expression softening slightly. “Are they always this irritating?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “Not always. But they don’t know when to stop, that’s for sure.”

“Well, if they try to come back, they’ll regret it,” Klaus said firmly, his protective nature shining through.

“They’re harmless,” you reassured him, though a part of you couldn’t help but feel a bit of secondhand embarrassment. “Thanks for not scaring them, by the way.”

Kol made a dramatic sigh. “You’re no fun, you know that?”

“Sometimes, no fun is necessary,” Elijah replied smoothly, earning a smirk from Klaus.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, and the woods were bathed in silvery moonlight. In the treehouse, the Mikaelson siblings were sprawled out in various spots, enjoying the calm of the evening. Kol was entertaining everyone with one of his exaggerated tales, Rebekah was braiding your hair, and Klaus sat nearby, carving a small wooden figure with meticulous care.

You had completely lost track of time. The brownies were long gone, and the laughter you’d shared had made the hours melt away. It wasn’t until you heard faint shouting in the distance that reality came crashing back.

Klaus stiffened, his carving knife pausing mid-motion. His eyes darted to the window as the shouting grew louder.

“They sound angry,” Rebekah murmured, frowning.

You stood up quickly, your heart pounding. “I didn’t realize it was so late,” you admitted, brushing off bits of wood shavings from Klaus’s carving that had fallen onto your lap.

Kol leaned back, grinning. “Let me guess they’re going to accuse us of corrupting you again, aren’t they?”

Klaus shot him a glare, but his expression softened when he turned to you. “You don’t have to leave yet,” he said quietly

“I can’t just ignore them,” you said, your voice tinged with guilt. “It’ll only make things worse if I don’t go back.”

The shouting grew louder, and you could make out your name clearly now. Your parents were calling for you, their voices sharp with worry and frustration.

your parents paced the backyard, their lanterns casting long shadows on the ground. Your mother was visibly agitated, muttering under her breath as she searched the treeline.

“Where could she have gone?” she asked, glancing at your dad looked equally concerned.

“I have a feeling I know exactly where she is,” Your father answers grimly as his jaw tightening.

Your mother turned to him sharply. “With them?” she asked in a low voice, her expression a mixture of frustration and fear.

He nodded. “Who else? She’s always disappearing into those woods, and every time, it’s because of them.”

Eleanor, stepped forward, her curiosity piqued. “Who are you talking about?” she asked, her tone light but probing.

Your mother hesitated, glancing nervously at Eleanor and her husband, Arthur. They were close friends, but there were things she and your dad had never shared with them things about the Mikaelsons and their unsettling reputation in town.

“It’s nothing,” she said quickly, waving a hand as if to dismiss the question. “She just has… some friends in the area that we’re not particularly fond of.”

Eleanor tilted her head, frowning. “Friends? What’s wrong with them?”

“It’s complicated,” your dad interjected, his voice firm. “Let’s just say they’re not the kind of people we want her associating with.”

Arthur, who had been quiet until now, raised an eyebrow. “Should we be worried? Are these kids troublemakers?”

Your mother forced a tight smile. “No, nothing like that. It’s just… they’re not a good influence, that’s all.”

Eleanor exchanged a look with Arthur but didn’t press further, sensing the tension in your mom’s voice.

“Maybe we should help look for her,” Eleanor offered instead, gesturing toward the woods. “If she’s out there, we might cover more ground together.”

She nodded reluctantly. “Thank you,” she said, though her tone was distracted. Her thoughts were consumed by worry and frustration. She knew you had a mind of your own, but your friendship with the Mikaelsons was something she and your dad simply couldn’t accept.

you sighed, looking at Klaus and his siblings apologetically. “I really should go,” you said, glancing toward the ladder.

Klaus stood up, his expression unreadable. “I’ll walk you back,” he said firmly.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “That’ll only make things worse if they see you.”

“But what if something happens to you on the way?” Klaus argued, his protective instincts kicking in.

“I’ll be fine,” you promised, giving him a small smile. “I know these woods better than anyone, remember?”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t argue further. Instead, he handed you the small wooden carving he’d been working on a tiny bird with intricate details. “Take this,” he said softly. “In case you forget about us tonight.”

Your heart swelled at the gesture, and you tucked the carving into your pocket before climbing down the ladder. As you disappeared into the woods, the Mikaelsons watched silently, their bond with you as strong as ever, despite the growing storm between you and your family.

As you stepped out of the woods and into the dimly lit backyard of your house, you were immediately met with the tense energy of your parents and their friends. Lanterns cast flickering shadows across the yard, and the moment your parents spotted you, their relief was quickly replaced by frustration.

“There you are!” your mother exclaimed, marching toward you with her arms crossed. Her tone was sharp, but her eyes betrayed a deep worry. “Do you have any idea what time it is? We’ve been calling for you for hours!”

Your father was close behind her, his expression a mix of anger and disappointment. “Where were you?” he demanded, his voice low but firm.

You hesitated, glancing down at your shoes. You knew this confrontation was coming, but it didn’t make it any easier. “I was in the woods,” you said quietly, trying to keep your voice steady.

Your mother’s eyes narrowed. “The woods? Alone? Do you think we’re going to believe that?”

“I wasn’t alone,” you admitted, and the truth slipped out before you could stop yourself.

Your mother’s jaw tightened, and your father’s face darkened. “With them, wasn’t it?” He asked, his voice barely above a growl.

You didn’t answer, which was all the confirmation they needed.

“I knew it,” your mother said, throwing her hands up in frustration. “After we’ve told you time and time again to stay away from that family, you still go running off to be with them!”

“They’re my friends,” you said, lifting your head to meet their angry gazes. “Why can’t you just understand that?”

“Friends?” She repeated, her voice rising. “Those children are nothing but trouble! Their family is dangerous, and you know it. We’ve told you—”

“You don’t know them,” you interrupted, surprising even yourself with how firm your voice sounded. “You don’t know what they’re really like. They’re not dangerous. They’re kind, and they care about me. More than you think!”

Your dad stepped closer, his tone colder now. “You don’t understand what you’re dealing with. That family has a reputation for a reason. They’re not normal, and they never will be.”

“Reputation?” you shot back, your frustration bubbling over. “You don’t even give them a chance! You’re just going off what everyone else says. You don’t know them like I do.”

The tension was thick in the air, and your parents’ friends watched the exchange with wide eyes, clearly unsure of what to say.

“Is it about them again? Or somebody else?” Eleanor asked cautiously, breaking the silence. She glanced between your parents and you, her curiosity growing.

“No one,” Margaret said quickly, cutting off any further questions. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that she was out in the woods, alone, after dark, disobeying us.”

“But—” Eleanor started to press, but your dad shot her a look that silenced her.

Your mother turned back to you, her expression hardening. “This is the last time we’re having this conversation,” she said sternly. “You are forbidden from seeing those children again. Do you understand me? Forbidden.”

Your chest tightened, and you clenched your fists at your sides. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t be friends with!” you said, your voice cracking with emotion.

“We’re your parents,” your dad said firmly. “We can and we will. This isn’t up for discussion.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Without another word, you turned and stormed into the house, leaving your parents and their friends in the yard.

As you climbed the stairs to your room, you pulled the small wooden carving Klaus had given you from your pocket. Holding it tightly in your hand, you felt a wave of comfort wash over you.

You placed the carving on your nightstand, staring at it as you vowed silently to yourself that no matter what your parents said, you wouldn’t abandon your friends. You couldn’t. They meant too much to you.

The sound of pots clanging in the kitchen and the low hum of conversation filled the house as the tension from earlier slowly settled into a simmer. Your mother was at the stove stirring a pot of soup, her movements sharp and purposeful as if she was channeling her frustration into the task. Eleanor stood at the counter beside her, slicing vegetables, her curiosity still piqued from the earlier exchange.

Meanwhile, in the living room, your father, William was sitting with Arthur, nursing a glass of bourbon. Their voices were low, but you could tell from their furrowed brows and stiff postures that the conversation was serious.

you tried to keep to yourself, hoping to avoid further questioning, but your solitude didn’t last long. A knock on your bedroom door was followed by it creaking open, and in walked Amelia and the twins brothers, their faces a mix of curiosity and indignation.

“We’ve been looking for you all day,” Amelia announced, crossing her arms as she plopped onto the edge of your bed. “Where were you?”

“Yeah,” Henry added, narrowing his eyes. “We were calling for you earlier in the woods, but you didn’t answer. Were you hiding?”

“I wasn’t hiding,” you said with a sigh, leaning back against your headboard. “I just… needed some space.”

Dylan tilted his head, his gaze skeptical. “Space? From us? We didn’t do anything!”

Amelia leaned closer, her eyes narrowing. “Wait a second. Were you with someone?”

Your stomach tightened at her question, but you tried to play it off. “Why do you care?”

“Because we’ve been bored out of our minds,” Henry said with a dramatic groan. “We came all this way, and you’re just running off doing who-knows-what without us?”

“Yeah!” Dylan chimed in. “You’re supposed to be showing us around, not disappearing.”

Amelia’s eyes lit up suddenly, as if she’d had an epiphany. “Wait… does this have to do with that treehouse we saw earlier?” she asked, leaning forward eagerly.

You froze for a moment, your pulse quickening. “What treehouse?” you asked, feigning ignorance.

“The really cool one in the woods,” Henry said. “We saw it earlier, but there was a sign on it. Something about it belonging to someone named Klaus Mikaelson.”

Amelia’s grin widened. “Is that who you were with?” she asked, her tone teasing. “Were you sneaking around with this Klaus guy?”

Your cheeks flushed, but you shook your head. “No! I wasn’t sneaking around.”

“Then what were you doing?” Henry pressed.

“I was just… exploring,” you said vaguely, trying to deflect their curiosity.

Amelia didn’t look convinced. “Exploring with someone, though. Come on, just admit it!”

“Who’s Klaus Mikaelson, anyway?” Dylan asked, frowning. “Is he your friend?”

“Why do you care?” you shot back, feeling cornered.

“Because you’re being all secretive about it,” Henry said with a shrug. “It’s weird.”

Amelia leaned back on the bed, smirking. “I think she’s hiding something.”

Before you could respond, your mother’s voice called up from the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready soon! Everyone, wash up!”

The twins and Amelia exchanged a glance before heading out of your room, their curiosity still buzzing. “This isn’t over,” Amelia said over her shoulder as she left.

You sighed, slumping back against your pillows. Your heart raced, not just from their questions but from the fear that they might dig deeper and worse, that your parents might overhear.

the kitchen was filled with the rich aroma of spices and roasted vegetables. Your mother stirred the soup with a focused intensity, while Eleanor continued chopping, stealing glances toward the living room where your father and Arthur were talking.

“They seemed pretty upset earlier,” Eleanor said casually, her knife moving steadily.

Your mother didn’t look up. “Kids ,” she said shortly, as if that explained everything.

“But who were you talking about?” Eleanor pressed, her tone light but insistent. “The ones you guys don’t want her seeing?”

Your mother’s hand paused on the spoon for a moment before she forced a smile. “Just some kids from around here. It’s nothing.”

Eleanor wasn’t convinced but decided not to push further for now. Instead, she glanced toward the doorway as she heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

You entered the kitchen quietly, hoping to go unnoticed, but your mother’s sharp eyes caught you immediately.

“Wash your hands,” she said briskly, pointing to the sink.

You obeyed without a word, the weight of their earlier anger still hanging heavy in the air. As you dried your hands, Eleanor offered you a small smile. “Long day?” she asked gently.

You nodded but didn’t elaborate, glancing at your mother, whose face was unreadable as she focused on the soup.

“Well, I hope you’re hungry,” Eleanor said, trying to lighten the mood. “Because we made the best dinner ever.”

You managed a small smile in return, but the knot in your stomach refused to loosen. You knew the questions both from your parents and from Amelia and the twins weren’t over. Not by a long shot.

Later that evening, after dinner had been cleaned up and the guests had retired to the living room, your parents sat in tense silence at the kitchen table. The air between them crackled with frustration as they exchanged grim looks. Your Mother’s lips were pressed into a thin line, her fingers drumming on the table. Your dad leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression dark.

“They’re not going to stop unless we do something about it,” she said finally, breaking the silence.

He nodded. “I agree. This has gone too far. She’s not listening to us, and those Mikaelson kids are only going to make things worse.”

He sighed, rubbing her temples. “We need to speak with their parents. Esther and Mikael need to put an end to this. It’s their responsibility to keep their children away from Y/n”

“They won’t like it,” he muttered. “But they’ll have to accept it. This is for her own good.”

When they arrived, Your mother knocked firmly on the door, her hand trembling slightly despite her resolve. Moments later, Esther answered, her serene expression quickly morphing into polite curiosity.

“Y/M/N, Y/D/N,” she said smoothly, stepping aside to let them in. “This is unexpected. Do come in.”

The entryway was warm and inviting, with a fire crackling in the hearth and the faint sound of children’s laughter echoing from another room. Despite the cozy atmosphere, your parents stood stiffly, their discomfort palpable.

“We need to talk,” York mother said, her tone clipped.

Esther raised an eyebrow but nodded graciously. “Of course. Shall we sit in the parlor?”

As she led them into the parlor, Mikael appeared from another room, his piercing gaze landing on your parents. “What’s this about?” he asked, his voice deep and commanding.

Your parents exchanged a glance before your mother spoke. “It’s about your children and Y/n,” she said, her voice firm.

Esther and Mikael shared a look before Esther gestured for them to sit. “Go on,” she said, folding her hands in her lap.

“Our daughter has been spending far too much time with your children,” Your dad began, his tone even but laced with tension. “We’ve tried to set boundaries, but she refuses to listen. It’s clear that this… friendship isn’t healthy for her.”

Esther’s serene expression faltered for a brief moment, replaced by a flicker of irritation. “And what exactly are you suggesting?” she asked, her tone measured but cold.

Your mother leaned forward, her hands gripping the armrests of her chair. “We’re asking no, insisting that you speak to your children and tell them to stay away from her.”

Mikael’s eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening. “You think you can dictate what our children do?” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Your father bristled but held his ground. “We’re her parents. It’s our job to protect her, and we believe this relationship is doing more harm than good. Your family has a… reputation, and it’s not one we want our daughter associated with.”

Esther’s eyes flashed with of anger “ My family may have its flaws,” she said, her voice sharp, “but my children are not a danger to your daughter.”

Your mom shook her head. “You don’t understand. This isn’t about whether your kids dangerous or not. It’s about what’s best for her. And what’s best is for her to distance herself from your family.”

Mikael leaned forward, his expression dark. “Let me make something clear,” he said, his voice like a low growl. “No one tells my children who they can or can’t associate with. Not even you.”

Your dad stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. “We came here to have a civil conversation,” he said, his voice rising slightly. “But if you refuse to cooperate, we’ll take matters into our own hands.”

Esther stood as well, her composure barely intact. “Your daughter is a bright, kind soul,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “If you can’t see the good in this friendship, then perhaps it is you who needs to reevaluate your perspective.”

Your mother’s face flushed with anger, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she grabbed your dad’s arm and pulled him toward the door. “We’ve said what we needed to say,” she said sharply. “The rest is up to you.”

As they left , the tension between your parents was palpable. They had hoped for cooperation but had been met with defiance.

Esther and Mikael exchanged a heavy look. “They don’t understand, do they?” Esther murmured, her voice filled with frustration.

“No,” Mikael said, his jaw tightening. “But it doesn’t matter. Our children will make their own choices, no matter what anyone says.”

It was late, and the house was quiet except for the faint creaks of settling wood and the occasional whistle of the wind outside your window. You sat cross-legged on your bed, the carved wooden figure Klaus had given you earlier resting on the nightstand. A glass of water sat nearby, untouched, reflecting the soft glow of your bedside lamp.

Your mind was restless, swirling with thoughts of the Mikaelsons, your parents’ anger, and the events of the day. You sighed, reaching for the glass, but as your fingers brushed against it, something strange happened. The glass moved just slightly, but enough to make you freeze.

you pulled your hand back and stared at the glass. Maybe you’d bumped the nightstand? You reached out again, more deliberately this time, and as your fingers hovered over the glass, it slid a few inches across the surface on its own. “What the…” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

You hesitated, then waved your hand slowly over the glass, not touching it. To your shock, the glass tilted slightly, as if responding to your movement. You quickly yanked your hand back, your pulse thundering in your ears.

Before you could process what had happened, your bedroom door swung open. Your mom and dad stepped inside. Their expressions were a mix of concern and apprehension, and it was clear they had seen what had just occurred.

“Mom? Dad?” you said, your voice trembling. “Did you see that? What’s happening to me?”

She glanced at your dad, her face pale. She stepped closer, her voice soft but serious. “We need to talk,” she said.

He shut the door behind him and leaned against it, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He looked tense, as if bracing for a storm.

“What’s going on?” you asked, panic rising in your chest. “Why did the glass move? I didn’t touch it, I swear—”

She placed a hand on your shoulder, her eyes searching yours. “It’s okay,” she said gently. “You’re not imagining things. What you saw… it’s real.”

“But how?” you asked, your voice breaking. “What’s wrong with me?”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” He said, stepping forward. “But there’s something we haven’t told you. Something we hoped we wouldn’t have to tell you. Not yet.”

She sat down on the edge of your bed, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “You’re… different,” she began carefully. “You always have been. We just didn’t think it would show itself so soon.”

“Show itself?” you repeated, your confusion deepening.

He took a deep breath, as if steadying himself. “You’re a witch,” he said finally, the words heavy in the air.

You stared at him, waiting for him to laugh or explain that it was a joke. But the serious expressions on both their faces told you otherwise.

“A witch?” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. “Like… spells and magic? That’s not real. It can’t be.”

“It’s real,” She said firmly. “And it runs in our family. You’ve inherited it, just like I did, and my mother before me.”

You shook your head, trying to process what they were saying. “This doesn’t make any sense,” you said, your voice rising. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you prepare me for this?”

“We thought we had more time,” He admitted, his voice heavy with guilt. “Your powers usually manifest later, when you’re older. But tonight… what we saw… it’s starting now.”

He reached out to take your hand, her grip firm but comforting. “We kept it from you because we wanted you to have a normal childhood for as long as possible. We didn’t want this to define you.”

“But it’s part of me,” you said, your voice trembling. “How could you hide something like this?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “We were trying to protect you,” she said. “Being a witch… it’s not easy. It comes with responsibilities and dangers. We didn’t want you to face that before you were ready.”

He nodded. “We’ve been trying to keep you safe, but now… now we don’t have a choice. We need to teach you what you are and how to control it. Before it gets out of hand.”

You pulled your hand away, standing up and pacing the room. “So, what does this mean? Am I supposed to just… accept that I’m a witch? That I can move things with my mind?”

“It’s more than that,” He said softly. “Your abilities will grow. You’ll be able to do things you can’t even imagine yet. But it’s not just about what you can do. It’s about who you are.”

You stopped pacing and looked at them, your mind spinning. “Does anyone else know? Does this have anything to do with why you don’t want me around the Mikaelsons?”

Your parents exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. “We’ll explain everything,” He said finally. “But not tonight. This is already a lot to take in.”

She stood and placed her hands on your shoulders, forcing you to look at her. “You’re going to be okay,” she said firmly. “We’re going to help you through this. You’re not alone.”

You nodded slowly, though your mind was still reeling. “Okay,” you said quietly. “But I need time to process this.”

She smiled faintly. “Take all the time you need. Just know that we’re here for you.”

As they left your room, closing the door behind them, you sat back on your bed, staring at the glass on the nightstand. The revelation felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, but there was also a strange, small spark of something else.

Curiosity.

You reached out, hesitating for a moment, before waving your hand over the glass again. This time, you focused, and the glass shifted slightly, tilting toward you.

A mix of fear and wonder swirled inside you. Everything had changed, and you weren’t sure what would happen next. But one thing was certain your life would never be the same.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through your window, and the soft chirping of birds woke you from a restless sleep. The events of the previous night still swirled in your mind your parents’ confession, the revelation that you were a witch, and the strange, electric sensation you’d felt when the glass had moved under your control.

But as much as it lingered, you were determined to push it aside for now. Today, you were going to see the Mikaelsons, and for a few hours at least, you wanted things to feel normal again.

After getting dressed, you slipped out of the house quickly, avoiding your parents’ watchful eyes. They had been unusually quiet this morning, their whispered conversation carrying a weight that made you uneasy. You didn’t want to stick around to find out what it was about.

Klaus saw you, his face lit up. He dropped his notebook and bounded over to you, his excitement palpable. “You’re here!” he said, his grin wide. “I was worried your parents wouldn’t let you out today.”

You forced a smile, trying to shake off the heaviness you felt. “Well, here I am,” you said, keeping your tone light.

Rebekah ran over, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the others. “Come on! We were just about to play hide-and-seek. You’re on my team!”

For the next few hours, you let yourself get lost in the chaos of the Mikaelson siblings. Klaus stuck close to you, his protectiveness showing in the way he insisted on being near you at all times. Kol teased you relentlessly, while Rebekah made sure you were included in every game.

But even as you laughed and played, a part of you couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened the night before. You didn’t dare tell them not yet. How could you explain that you were a witch? That your parents had kept it from you all your life? And worse, what if they reacted poorly, or Esther found out?

your parents sat at the kitchen table, their expressions grim. Your mom’s hands were clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles white. Your dad pacing back and forth, his face set in a deep frown.

“We can’t stay here,” she said finally, breaking the heavy silence.

He stopped pacing and looked at her. “You think I don’t know that? But where would we go? This is our home.”

She shook her head. “Not anymore. It’s not safe not for her. You saw what happened last night. She’s just beginning to understand what she is, and if Esther finds out…”

“She’ll use her,” He finished grimly. “She’ll manipulate her, twist her into something she’s not.”

Her voice softened, but her resolve remained firm. “We can’t let that happen. She’s our daughter. We have to protect her, no matter what it takes.”

He sat down across from her, his shoulders slumping. “I know. But uprooting her life like this… it’s not going to be easy. She loves it here. She loves them.”

Her eyes filled with sadness. “I know she does. But what choice do we have? It’s not just about Esther. If the other families find out what she is, they might see her as a threat. Or worse, a weapon.”

He nodded reluctantly. “We’ll need to start making arrangements. Somewhere far from here, where she can be safe. Where she can learn to control her powers without fear.”

“And we can’t tell her until everything is ready,” she added. “She’ll fight us on this, especially because of those children.”

He sighed heavily. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

She reached across the table and took his hand. “Nothing about this has been easy. But we’ll do what we have to. For her.”

you were lying on the grass with Klaus, Rebekah, and Kol, the four of you staring up at the clouds and pointing out shapes. “That one looks like a wolf,” Klaus said, squinting at the sky.

“You always say that,” Kol teased, rolling his eyes. “Every cloud looks like a wolf to you.”

“Because wolves are fascinating,” Klaus shot back, smirking.

Rebekah turned to you, her expression curious. “You’ve been quiet today. Is everything alright?”

You hesitated, your stomach twisting. “Yeah, I’m fine,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired, I guess.”

Klaus propped himself up on one elbow, studying you with concern. “Are you sure? You can tell us if something’s wrong.”

“I’m fine,” you repeated, trying to sound convincing.

But as you lay there, surrounded by the laughter and warmth of your friends, you couldn’t shake the feeling that everything was about to change. And deep down, you knew they’d never forgive you for keeping the truth from them especially Klaus.

The sun was beginning to set as you walked back home, the warm hues of twilight casting long shadows across the quiet streets. The day with the siblings had been a welcome distraction, but now that you were alone, the unease from the night before began creeping back in. You couldn’t stop thinking about your parents’ worried expressions or the whispered conversation you’d caught snippets of that morning.

As you turned the corner and your house came into view, something felt… off. The front door was open, and the faint sound of hurried footsteps echoed from inside. Your brow furrowed as you quickened your pace, a strange tension building in your chest.

When you reached the driveway, your heart sank. The family car was parked outside, its trunk and back seats packed with suitcases, boxes, and bags. Confusion swirled in your mind. Were you going somewhere? Why hadn’t they told you?

You pushed through the front door, calling out, “Mom? Dad? What’s going on?”

Your mother appeared in the hallway, her face pale and tense. She had a stack of folded clothes in her arms, which she quickly dropped into a bag near the door. “Get in the car,” she said hurriedly, not meeting your eyes.

“What?” you asked, your voice rising. “What’s happening? Why is all our stuff packed? Are we leaving?”

Your dad came down the stairs carrying a heavy box, his expression just as grim. “Do as your mother says,” he said firmly. “Get in the car. We’ll explain later.”

“But—” you started, your heart pounding.

“No questions,” she interrupted, her tone sharp but not unkind. “Please, sweetheart. Just get in the car.”

Her plea made your chest tighten. The urgency in her voice was unlike anything you’d ever heard before. You looked between your parents, searching their faces for answers, but all you saw was worry and determination.

“Is this about what happened last night?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Is it because of… what I am?”

She hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said softly, glancing at your dad. “Right now, we need to leave.”

“Leave?” you repeated, your voice breaking. “Leave where? For how long?”

He placed the box in the trunk and turned to you, his hands resting on your shoulders. “We’re doing this to protect you,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You have to trust us, okay?”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stared up at him. “But I don’t understand. Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?”

She stepped closer, placing a hand on your arm. “There’s no time to explain,” she said gently but firmly. “Please, just get in the car. We’ll answer your questions once we’re safe.”

The word safe sent a chill down your spine. Safe from what? Or who?

Reluctantly, you nodded, wiping at your eyes as you turned and walked to the car. You climbed into the back seat, your mind racing with questions and fears. As you buckled your seatbelt, you watched through the window as your parents hurried to load the last of the bags.

You wanted to yell, to demand answers, but something in their expressions kept you quiet. Whatever was happening, it was serious.

Your mom climbed into the passenger seat, while your dad got behind the wheel. They exchanged a quick, tense glance before William started the car.

As the engine roared to life and the house grew smaller in the rearview mirror, a heavy silence filled the car. You stared out the window, your stomach churning.

The Mikaelsons. You hadn’t said goodbye. They had no idea you were leaving. Would they ever forgive you for disappearing without a word? Would you ever see them again?

You glanced at your parents, who seemed lost in their own thoughts. Part of you wanted to scream, to demand they turn the car around. But deep down, you knew this wasn’t a decision they’d made lightly.

The next morning, Klaus was the first to notice your absence. The sun had barely risen, and he was already waiting at the spot where you usually met. He leaned against the old oak tree, fidgeting with the small wooden figure he’d been carving for you a wolf, of course.

Minutes turned into an hour, and still, you didn’t show. His irritation turned into worry as he paced back and forth, muttering to himself.

When he arrived home later that morning, his siblings were quick to notice his restless energy.

“You’re in a mood,” Kol said, lounging on the sofa. “What’s got your knickers in a twist this time?”

Klaus glared at him, but instead of snapping back, he simply said, “She didn’t show up.”

Rebekah, who was braiding her hair at the table, paused mid-twist. “What do you mean she didn’t show up? She’s never late.”

“I mean exactly that,” Klaus said, his voice tight. “She wasn’t at our usual spot, and she hasn’t come by all morning.”

Finn, ever the quiet observer, frowned slightly. “Maybe her parents needed her for something,” he suggested.

“Or maybe she’s sick,” Elijah added, ever the voice of reason.

Klaus shook his head, his jaw clenching. “No. Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”

Rebekah stood abruptly, tying off her braid. “Let’s go to her house,” she said. “If she’s not coming to us, we’ll go to her.”

Kol groaned but got up anyway, clearly more curious than he let on. “This better not be a wild goose chase.”

The five siblings set off together, the walk to your house unusually quiet. Klaus led the way, his steps quick and purposeful, while the others exchanged worried glances behind him.

When they reached your street, the sight that greeted them made all of them stop in their tracks.

Your house, which was usually lively and inviting, looked… empty. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, and the driveway was eerily clear. The car that was always parked there was gone, as were the toys, bikes, and small signs of life that usually scattered the front yard.

“What the bloody hell?” Kol muttered, his brow furrowing.

Rebekah hurried up the driveway, her eyes scanning the front porch. “Where are they? This doesn’t make any sense.”

Klaus followed close behind, his stomach twisting with a sinking feeling he couldn’t shake. He stepped up to the front door and knocked loudly. “Y/N!” he called out. “Are you in there? It’s us!”

The only response was silence.

Rebekah tried peering through the windows, but the curtains blocked any view inside. “It’s like they just… vanished,” she said, her voice tinged with disbelief.

Klaus knocked again, harder this time, his frustration boiling over. Y/N!” he shouted, his voice echoing down the empty street. “Answer me!”

Elijah stepped forward, placing a hand on Klaus’s shoulder. “Brother, calm yourself. If they’re not here, we need to think rationally.”

Klaus jerked away from his touch, his fists clenched at his sides. “This isn’t right. She wouldn’t leave without telling me. She wouldn’t just disappear!”

Kol crossed his arms, leaning against the porch railing. “Maybe her parents finally had enough of us,” he said bitterly.

“Enough of us?” Klaus snapped, rounding on him. “This isn’t about us, Kol. Something’s happened. I know it.”

Rebekah stepped between them before the argument could escalate. “Fighting isn’t going to help,” she said firmly. “We need to figure out where they went.”

Klaus turned back to the door, his hand resting on the frame as if willing it to open. “She wouldn’t leave me,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

“She didn’t leave you,” Elijah said gently. “If they left, it wasn’t by her choice.”

Klaus’s jaw tightened, his mind racing. He thought of the way your parents always seemed wary of him and his siblings, how they had started pulling you away more and more recently. The pieces were beginning to fit together, but he didn’t want to believe it.

“We’ll find her,” Rebekah said softly, placing a hand on Klaus’s arm. “We’ll figure out what happened.”

Klaus didn’t respond, his eyes fixed on the closed door in front of him. In his mind, he could see you laughing, playing games, and sitting with him under the tree as he sketched. The thought of never seeing you again made his chest ache in a way he didn’t fully understand.

As the siblings turned to leave, Klaus cast one last, lingering look at your house. He didn’t know where you were or why you’d gone, but one thing was certain he wasn’t going to stop until he found you.

Klaus sat alone in his room, the faint glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows on the walls. His sketchbook lay open on his lap, the page revealing a half-finished portrait of you, smiling softly as though you were still there with him.

But you weren’t.

His hand hovered over the page, the pencil trembling between his fingers. He couldn’t bring himself to add another line, afraid he might ruin the image that now felt like his only connection to you. The realization hit him again, sharp and cruel you were gone.

Klaus’s breath hitched as he set the pencil down and closed the sketchbook gently, as if handling something precious. His gaze shifted to the small painting propped against the wall, the one he had worked on for weeks just for you. He remembered how you had giggled when he’d shown you the first brushstrokes, teasing him about how serious he looked while painting.

“You’re going to make me look like royalty,” you had joked, and he’d responded without hesitation, “You already are.”

The memory brought a fresh wave of pain, and before he could stop himself, tears spilled over, streaking down his cheeks. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he tried to stifle the sobs that wracked his chest. But the more he tried, the harder it became to hold back.

It wasn’t fair.

You were his best friend, his first love, the one person who made him feel like he could be something more than the monster everyone thought he was destined to become. And now, without warning, you were ripped away from him.

Klaus stood abruptly, pacing the room like a caged animal, his hands pulling at his hair in frustration. “Why?” he whispered to the empty space. “Why would they take you from me?”

He stopped in front of the painting, his watery blue eyes locked onto your likeness. Slowly, he sank to his knees, his fingers lightly brushing the edge of the canvas. “I swear to you,” he murmured, his voice trembling, “I will never forget you. Not today, not tomorrow… not ever.”

His chest tightened as he spoke, the weight of the promise settling heavily in his heart. “You were my first love,” he continued, his voice cracking. “My only love. And if I can’t have you, I’ll never love anyone else. Not the way I loved you.”

Tears continued to fall as he leaned his forehead against the frame of the painting, his shoulders shaking. “I don’t care how far they’ve taken you,” he whispered. “I’ll find you one day. Even if it takes a hundred years, I’ll find you. And until then… I’ll carry you with me.”

He stayed like that for what felt like hours, the room silent except for the occasional sound of his quiet sobs. In that moment, Klaus Mikaelson made a vow a vow to guard the memory of you in his heart, to never let anyone take your place, and to never allow himself to feel this kind of pain again.

When he finally stood, his face was streaked with tears, but his expression was one of determination. He wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and looked at the painting one last time.

“I’ll never forget you,” he repeated, his voice firmer now. “You’ll always be mine, no matter where you are.”

With that, Klaus turned and blew out the candle, plunging the room into darkness. But even as the light faded, the image of you remained burned into his mind bright, beautiful, and irreplaceable.

Mystic Falls was as quiet as it could be given the trouble brewing beneath its surface. Klaus and his siblings strode through the town square, their presence commanding as always. Elena Gilbert had become the center of their newest plans, and as always, chaos followed in their wake.

Rebekah was the first to speak, her tone exasperated. “This place hasn’t changed a bit. Same boring streets, same boring people.”

“Let’s focus, shall we?” Elijah said, ever the diplomat. “We’re not here for sightseeing. We need to deal with the doppelgänger and sort this mess out.”

Klaus smirked, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. “Oh, but what’s the fun without a bit of sightseeing, brother? I’m quite enjoying myself already.”

Kol rolled his eyes. “You would. Let’s just get this over with before something—”

Before he could finish, a blur of motion zipped past them, fast enough to make Rebekah stumble slightly. The siblings stopped in their tracks, their sharp eyes following the movement as you appeared in front of them.

Your sudden arrival caught them off guard. You stood confidently, arms crossed, your expression unreadable. You’d heard whispers about the Mikaelsons being in town, and now, seeing them in person, you couldn’t resist a bit of confrontation.

“Well, well, well,” you said, your tone dripping with sarcasm. “If it isn’t the weird and crazy family that’s after my friend.”

Rebekah narrowed her eyes, taking a step forward. “Who the hell are you?”

You ignored her, your gaze shifting to Klaus. There was something about him that made you pause a strange flicker of familiarity you couldn’t quite place. Still, you didn’t let it show. “Let me guess,” you continued, raising an eyebrow. “You’re the ringleader of this dysfunctional circus?”

Klaus opened his mouth to retort, but then he froze, his sharp eyes narrowing as they swept over you. There was something hauntingly familiar about you your face, your posture, the way you carried yourself. It tugged at the edges of his memory, stirring feelings he hadn’t let himself feel in years.

“You look familiar to me,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual, tinged with something that sounded almost like awe. “Has anyone ever told you that you look familiar?”

You tilted your head, your lips curling into a smirk. “Yeah,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “Only weirdos like you.”

Kol let out a bark of laughter, clearly amused by your boldness, but Klaus wasn’t laughing. He was still staring at you, his mind racing. That smirk, that spark in your eyes it was like a ghost from his past had materialized in front of him.

Rebekah frowned, looking between Klaus and you. “Do you two know each other or something?”

You scoffed. “I’d remember if I met someone as annoying as him.”

But Klaus wasn’t paying attention to your words anymore. His heart was pounding in his chest, memories of a distant time flashing in his mind. A childhood filled with laughter, secret forts, and a promise he had never broken. Could it really be you?

Elijah, ever observant, placed a hand on Klaus’s shoulder. “Niklaus,” he said carefully, “are you all right?”

Klaus blinked, finally tearing his gaze away. He forced a smirk, masking the storm of emotions swirling inside him. “I’m fine,” he said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Well, if you’re done staring, I’ve got better things to do than stand here with you and your entourage of weirdos.”

You turned on your heel, disappearing in a blur as quickly as you’d appeared.

The siblings stood in silence for a moment before Kol broke it with a whistle. “Well, she’s got a mouth on her. I like her already.”

Rebekah rolled her eyes. “You like anyone who insults Nik.”

Elijah, however, was watching Klaus closely. “What is it, brother? You recognized her, didn’t you?”

Klaus didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the spot where you’d been. “I think I did,” he murmured, more to himself than to them.

Rebekah frowned. “Who was she?”

Klaus didn’t respond, his thoughts too consumed by the possibility that the girl he thought he’d lost forever might be standing right in front of him after all these years.

The Mikaelsons had retreated to their temporary residence in Mystic Falls, the conversation still buzzing around the stranger who had confronted them earlier. Klaus sat near the window, his jaw clenched as he stared out into the dark streets, lost in thought. Elijah stood nearby, flipping through an old book, while Rebekah paced the room, muttering about how rude you’d been. Kol, as always, lounged on the couch with an amused smirk, replaying the encounter in his mind.

It was Finn who finally broke the silence. He had been unusually quiet since their return, but now he looked up from where he was seated, his expression contemplative. “Am I the only one,” he said, his voice cutting through the room, “who thinks she looks exactly like Y/N?”

The air in the room shifted instantly. Klaus’s head snapped toward Finn, his icy blue eyes narrowing. “What did you just say?”

Finn shrugged, though his gaze was steady. “You all remember her, don’t you? The little girl who used to hangout with us, who Klaus wouldn’t let out of his sight for a second. That girl today she’s the spitting image of her.”

Rebekah froze mid-step, her brows furrowing as she processed Finn’s words. “Y/N?” she repeated softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of shock and disbelief. “Don’t be ridiculous, Finn. That was centuries ago. She’s long gone.”

“Is she?” Finn challenged, his tone calm but insistent. “the resemble tells otherwise don’t tell me none of you saw it.”

Kol, who had been silent until now, sat up straighter, his smirk fading. “Now that you mention it… she did have the same fire. The same sharp tongue.”

Rebekah shot him a glare. “This isn’t funny, Kol.”

“I’m not trying to be funny,” Kol said, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I’m just saying Finn might have a point.”

Elijah closed his book, his expression thoughtful. “It would explain Klaus’s reaction,” he said, glancing toward his brother. “You froze the moment you saw her, Niklaus. Is that why?”

Klaus didn’t respond immediately. His hands tightened into fists as he leaned back against the wall, his mind replaying the moment you appeared in front of them. The way you’d looked at him, the way you’d spoken it had stirred something deep inside him, something he hadn’t felt in centuries.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low and strained. “I thought I was imagining it,” he admitted. “The moment I saw her, I felt… something I haven’t felt in a very long time. But it couldn’t be her. It doesn’t make sense.”

Finn raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t it? This is Mystic Falls, after all. Stranger things have happened.”

Rebekah crossed her arms, her expression conflicted. “Even if it is her which I highly doubt how could she still be alive? Humans don’t live that long. And she didn’t look like a vampire.”

Elijah tilted his head slightly, his calm demeanor betraying a hint of curiosity. “Perhaps there’s more to her story than we know. If it truly is Y/N, then we need to understand how and why she’s here now.”

Klaus pushed away from the wall, his jaw set. “I’m not sure I want to know,” he said bitterly. “If it is her, then she’s lived all this time without me. Without us. That means she doesn’t remember or she chose not to.”

Rebekah’s expression softened, and she reached out to touch Klaus’s arm. “Nik, if it is her, wouldn’t you want to find out? Wouldn’t you want to know the truth?”

Klaus hesitated, the storm of emotions raging within him threatening to break free. He hated the vulnerability he felt, the way your mere presence had shaken him to his core. But beneath the anger and confusion was something stronger hope.

“I’ll find her,” he said finally, his voice hardening with determination. “And I’ll get the answers I need.”

Finn nodded approvingly. “Then we agree. If she truly is Y/N, we need to know why she’s back and what it means for us.”

The siblings exchanged a glance, their usual bickering and chaos set aside for once. The memory of you had bound them all together in their youth, and now, the possibility of your return threatened to do the same once more.

Klaus turned back to the window, his heart pounding in his chest. If you truly were Y/N, then everything he thought he’d lost was suddenly within reach again. But if you weren’t… he wasn’t sure he could bear the weight of that heartbreak a second time.

The Mikaelsons strolled through Mystic Falls with a sense of purpose, their sharp eyes scanning the streets. Klaus led the group, his expression unreadable, though his mind was restless. The possibility that you might be her his Y/N had shaken him deeply, even if he tried to hide it.

“Do you think we’ll find her again?” Rebekah asked, breaking the silence.

“We’ll find her,” Klaus replied firmly, though his voice carried an edge of tension.

It wasn’t long before their search bore fruit. Ahead, near the small courtyard outside the Mystic Grill, Klaus spotted you. You stood in a small group with Damon, Stefan, and Elena, your laughter ringing out as you teased Damon about something.

“There she is,” Finn murmured, his tone curious.

Rebekah rolled her eyes. “Of course!!”

Klaus didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on you. The siblings slowed their pace, moving with practiced stealth as they followed at a distance.

From where they stood, they could hear the conversation. Damon leaned casually against a table, flashing you one of his infamous smirks. “You, princess, are a mean one,” he said, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

You rolled your eyes, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t know, Demon, maybe I’m just mean to you.”

Stefan chuckled, his arms crossed as he watched the exchange. “You walked right into that one, Damon.”

Damon, undeterred, stepped closer to you, his smirk widening. “Is this all I get after saving you all those years ago? No gratitude, no thanks?”

You tilted your head, pretending to think for a moment before shrugging dramatically. “Oh no, did I forget to thank you? Or waitI know! I forgot to kiss you.”

Elena burst into laughter as Damon’s smirk grew impossibly wider. “Well, it’s not too late,” he teased, winking. “You can still do it.”

You rolled your eyes again, though your cheeks flushed slightly, betraying your amusement. “Dream on, Demon.”

Elena nudged you, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know, it is because of Damon that you’re the hybrid. Maybe you should show some appreciation.”

Damon gave a mock bow, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “See? Even Elena agrees. I’m the reason you’re here today, all powerful and whatnot. You’re welcome, princess.”

You groaned, throwing a balled-up napkin at him, which he caught effortlessly. “Great, thanks so much, Damon. You want a medal or something?”

“No,” Damon quipped, his grin practically smug. “Just maybe admit that I’m your favorite vampire. And don’t forget to mention that I’m hot.”

“Oh, God,” you muttered, rolling your eyes for the third time as Stefan and Elena laughed uncontrollably.

From their hiding spot, the Mikaelsons watched the scene unfold. Rebekah crossed her arms, her lips curling into a frown. “She’s… joking around with Damon Salvatore? Of all people?”

Kol raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “She’s got spunk, I’ll give her that.”

Finn remained silent, his expression unreadable, but Elijah glanced at Klaus, noting the tension in his brother’s posture. Klaus hadn’t taken his eyes off you, his jaw clenched tightly.

“She’s different,” Rebekah remarked, tilting her head slightly. “Not at all like Y/N used to be.”

“People change,” Elijah said quietly. “Centuries apart will do that to anyone.”

“She’s still her,” Klaus said suddenly, his voice low and certain.

The siblings turned to him, surprised by the conviction in his tone. Klaus’s gaze softened slightly as he watched you toss another witty remark at Damon, your confidence and humor shining through.

“She’s still my Y/N,” Klaus murmured, almost to himself. “I know it.”

Rebekah frowned but didn’t argue. Elijah exchanged a thoughtful glance with Finn, and Kol simply smirked, clearly enjoying the drama.

“Do we introduce ourselves now?” Kol asked with mock innocence. “Or wait until she’s done flirting with her demon?”

Klaus shot him a glare. “We’ll wait,” he said curtly, his tone brooking no argument.

But as he watched you laugh and banter with the Salvatore brothers, a flicker of jealousy burned in his chest. He had waited centuries to see you again, and now that you were here, he wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap that time had created.

One thing was certain, though he wouldn’t lose you again. Not to Damon, not to anyone.

The next morning, just after sunrise, Mystic Falls was still cloaked in a soft golden haze. The dew on the grass shimmered like tiny diamonds, and the quiet air held that rare, magical stillness only early mornings seem to have.

You weren’t planning to run into anyone you had only gone for a walk to clear your head. The events of the past few days were swirling inside your mind: Damon’s teasing, your new hybrid abilities, the strange flashes of childhood memories you couldn’t explain, and that one man’s eyes yesterday the one with the accent, the presence, and the stare that rattled something buried deep inside you.

You were turning the corner by the old Wickery Bridge path when you bumped into someone. Literally.

You staggered back slightly, blinking up and froze.

So did he.

Klaus.

He looked different in the morning light. Softer. Golden curls tousled, stubble along his jaw, his usual sharp expression completely stripped away as he stared at you like you were the sunrise itself.

His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out. He was just… stunned.

You tilted your head. That same spark from yesterday shot through your chest again like a whisper. Something old. Something warm. “Seriously?” you finally said, your voice a bit breathless, trying to ease the tension. “Are you always walking around corners like that, or just when I’m deep in thought?”

He huffed a quiet laugh but his eyes never left yours. “You’re real,” he whispered, more to himself than to you. “You’re really here.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused. “Okay… you’ve got the wrong girl, I think.? do I know you from somewhere?”

Klaus took a slow, hesitant step forward. “It’s me. Niklaus. Klaus. You used to call me Nik or sometimes Klausy when you were mad at me. Which, to be fair, was often.”

Your eyes widened slightly. That name. That nickname. It felt like a thread pulling at something in your chest. Images flickered behind your eyes muddy knees, painting on a porch, forts under blankets and stars, a soft voice promising, “One day I’m going to marry you.”

You gasped.

Klaus watched the realization bloom across your face, and for the first time in centuries, his hands trembled slightly. “Y/N,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You’re her. You’re my best friend. You vanished. I– I thought you were gone forever.”

You looked up at him, eyes wide with shock and emotion. “Nik…?” you whispered, as if testing the name on your tongue. “You’re… that Nik?”

He nodded, unable to say more because his throat had tightened.

You took a shaky breath. “I remember the fort. The painting. The treehouse.”

A smile broke across Klaus’s face a real, genuine one, boyish and full of awe. “You used to say I was a bossy little tyrant.”

“You were a bossy little tyrant,” you shot back, but your smile was teary, your voice trembling.

He chuckled, stepping even closer now. “And you were the only one who wasn’t scared of me. You told me once that you’d never let me be alone.”

“I meant it,” you said softly, eyes glistening. “I didn’t want to leave. My parents things were complicated. They made me forget.”

Klaus’s smile faltered a bit, replaced by something deeper hurt, and relief, and longing all twisted together. “I searched for you,” he said, barely above a whisper. “For years. I thought I’d never see you again. I never moved on .”

Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full. Heavy with meaning.

Then, you took a deep breath and stepped toward him, close enough that you could see the flecks of gold in his eyes.“So…” you murmured. “Still planning on marrying me, or was that just playground talk?”

Klaus blinked, then let out a small laugh completely thrown off in the most adorable way. “You remember that?”

You nodded. “You were painting me in your backyard. You said it all serious like it was law.”

Klaus’s expression softened again, so gentle it nearly broke your heart. “I meant it then,” he said softly, “and I mean it now.”

You were quiet for a beat, heart racing. Then you smiled the same smile you used to give him as a child, full of trouble and affection.

“Well,” you said, “you better work for it this time, Nik.”

Klaus gave a small laugh, but something flickered in his eyes was hope, love, something ancient and bright. “Anything for you, love. Always.”

And as the wind rustled the leaves around you and Klaus and the sun climbed higher in the sky, it was like time folded over itself. Like you were back in the past and finally, finally home again.

[muxshwriting]

bloody rags and white flags

Nikolai Lantsov x reader

summary: being a spy for the crown had some occupational hazards, but those hazards aren't meant to stay with you when you're home || warnings: blood, light gore, mentions of fighting, mentions of murder, language || word count: 1136 || masterlist

Nikolai loved being King. He helped his people in ways he could not before, in ways no one had before. But he also hated being King. He hated the power it gave him, he hated how it made him separate to everyone else again. All he wanted was to lie in bed with his love by his side, but that could prove impossible.

Yet again Nikolai was reminded of something his brother had told him. "This country gets you in the end, brother. don't forget it." And Ravka had got him. You were heading off West, far away from Nikolai and their home. He longed for you, wished you were home but knew you had to be apart. You had duties, just as Nikolai did.

"Long may you reign Moi Tsar." You lowered yourself onto a knee and laid your dagger on the floor in front of you. It was the same thing you had done for his father, declaring your loyalty and swearing your life for his.

But Nikolai wanted nothing more than to pick you up and throw your stupid dagger away. He did not need her to be a humble servant to a king. He did not need to be king. He wanted to spend the rest of his days sailing on a ship and adventuring around the world. He wanted to meet a pretty girl in a tavern, like they had first met and he wanted to be happy.

He did not want you on your knees like this. He wanted you beside him.

"You're all dismissed." Everyone else in the room begins to filter out. You stand, retrieving your dagger and following everyone else out. "Not you."

You waited until everyone had left before speaking. "Nikolai... I have to go."

"No you don't." Nikolai whispered, his eyes pooling with tears. "You could stay here. You could stay with me."

Your eyes mirrored Nikolai's, shining like stars from your unshed tears. You slowly shake your head and went to turn away. "Look Nik, I have to go on this mission. Ravka needs this. There's no one else who can do what I can do."

Your was almost out the door when Nikolai found his voice once more. "How long?"

"I don't know."

It's six months later when Nikolai is informed that you've returned. Everyone at the palace knew what was going on between you two, it was everything except official. He let you submit your reports, signing off on what was needed before approaching you.

"Your blood?" Nikolai asked quietly.

You hadn't expected Nikolai to be awake at this hour of night, let alone use his time to come and see you. It had been too long to imagine that nothing had changed. Your head dropped as you sighed. "I didn't think you'd be awake."

"Your blood?" He asked again, ignoring your previous statement. He's referring to the splatters and darker spots on your clothes.

"No." You're not entirely sure but you don't think it's yours.

The fire was still glowing and the candles were still burning as walked over to her. You didn’t meet his eye. “I know why you do this.” He whispered. “I just wished you didn’t.”

Your patience snapped. It had been a long day, a difficult day: your entire body ached from travel and fighting and you just wanted to rest. Now Nikolai was questioning your entire life and what you had been trained for. "Not everyone can be born royal."

"You could become royal." He didn’t seem to realise that he was aggravating her.

"No." She said pointedly. "We've already discussed that that's never happening."

Nikolai silently brushed your jacket off your shoulders and folded it over a chair. "Do you want me to draw you a bath?"

You shook your head. "Don't worry the servants this late. I just need to sleep."

Nik kept peeling your outer layers from you, like he peeled back your cold exterior to reveal the woman he loved. "Come to mine."

He was inviting you to his bed, instead of the cold bedchambers you inhabited before you left. If you had gone to your rooms, they would be frigid, furniture covered with cloths from your unknown date of return.

"Alright." It's a whisper, but a whisper Nik runs with.

He leads you through the hallways, avoiding eye contact with any servants or guards you pass. The closer you get, the heavier your limbs feel. Your head is growing tired and the corners of your vision fading. Nikolai notices your stumbled steps and loops an arm around you. "Not long now."

You muster a small smile as you finally reach the door of his chambers, and you're lowered into a chair by the roaring fire. With tingling fingers, you unbutton the rest of your clothes as Nikolai fetches a shirt for you. Your eyes slip shut as he returns and a horrified gasp fills the air.

"You said it wasn’t your blood."

Your eyelids are like lead as you peel them open and glance down. There's two slash wounds across your chest and stomach, probably from a blade that you hadn't noticed yourself getting. There still bleeding, an insistent flow that gathers and soaks into your shirt.

"I didn't even- I didn't know." As you move to touch the slices, the pain finally hits you full force. The ache that had been all encompassing of your body now centred on your midriff, sending shocks up your spine. "Shit. I-"

"It's okay." Nikolai's gone from standing to kneeling before you, using your soiled shirt to press into the wounds and staunch the bleeding. It stings but you know he's making it better. Through your pain and fatigue, you didn't notice Nik calling for some servants to bring him supplies. He cleaned your wounds, holding you to his chest as he checked you for any other injuries you'd been hiding.

"I was wrong." You whisper into his ear as he wraps a bandage around you.

Nikolai‘s eyes shone. "I’m sorry, what did you say?"

"I was wrong. About my job, about you."

"I-"

"Don't you dare say I told you so."

Nikolai shrugs. "I did tell you."

"Shut up."

He's silent for a moment before checking with you again. "Are you sure? I know how much this job meant to you, no matter how much it hurts."

"Maybe it's time to call it a day. Do something better with my life."

Nik hums in response as you settle into bed. He holds you close, letting his hand rest just above your heart.

"I want to come home to you without worrying about when I'll have to leave again. I don't want to come home injured every time. I want-"

"Anything you want you'll get." He interrupts. "All you have to do is ask."

[homosexualgirlandbags]

Ok so we all know that technically, logistically speaking, Nikolai's actual name isn't Nikolai, right? And because of the nature of his job, it's highly unlikely he hands out his name to people like candy.

So, I present this long overdue draft.

John was fucking delirious, it had been 2 days since he had slept, and he couldn't remember when was the last time he even ate. The clock was far too loud in the background, and he could feel his muscles aching.

In short, he wasn't prepared to spend the next 5 hours filing paperwork whilst trying to pry Nik's real name out of his ass. Price cursed under his breath, flipping through files after files as he tried to find a name he could match on record for the russian. His eyes were strained and his fingers were shaking from the amount of caffeine in his system, but goddamn if he wasn't going to find out Nik's real name before Laswell di-

Nikolai knocked on the door, his russian accent filtering through the door with just a tinge of concern.

"Cap't, Laswell said you've been cooped up in here for days?"

Another knock, before the russian decided to let himself in, first peering in with his head before entering fully. The sight before him was... Concerning to say the least. The Brit looked wild, his eyes bloodshot, and the overflowing cups of coffee were definitely unhealthy. Nikolai's brows furrowed in concern as John stared up at him.

Nikolai ignores the comparison of John to a mangy dog that pops up in his mind.

Instead, he steps forward, closing the door behind him. Nik could smell the stench of cigars clinging to John this close now. And the coffee breath was foul, to say the least. His handsome John was somehow ruffled now, and the feeling of service rises up in his mind again. How Nik wanted to just drag John to the bathroom right now, and take care of his love, to ensure that John was neat and tidy and well.

He sighed, knowing that it was probably futile to drag John to bed now, given his stubborn nature. No, he decides, instead it would be better to help John in his work, to at least ensure that John ends up in his bed that night. Nik ignores John's eyes boring into him as he begins tossing the paper cups stained with coffee into the trash, clearing a space on the table for him to sit on.

"Da, I know you're stubborn, Captain. But stubbornness will get you nowhere. Now, what's wrong, malyshka?"

He leans in closer to John's face, tilting his head as he resists the urge to hold John's face. His cheeks would squish out then, and as much as Nik found it adorable, he could much rather not deal with an annoyed John in his state.

"I'll brush my teeth and drop to my knees to suck your dick if you tell me your real name now, Nik"

Well... That was certainly an interesting development, to say the least. Nik's head tilted in amusement this time, hands tracing across John's face. His coffee breath was still foul, but Nik had gotten a blowjob from much worser conditions.

"You have 2 minutes to get started on brushing your teeth, moya."

Nik ignores how eager John looked when he accepted his offer, nor does he bother to stop John when he makes a run out of his office and into the nearest bathroom.

[tempfrangit]

Disclaimer — this is a 🎶Disclaimer🎶 — you are responsible for what you read and how you choose to interact with media. I try to tag everything accordingly and have everything laid out as best I can because it is never my intention do to anyone harm. Remember to both block tags and use filters so the tags I put on things to stop you from seeing are actually caught. If something specific needs to be tagged, let me know and I will do so.

🟢- General Audiences 🟡- Mature 🔴- Smut/18+ ⚫- Dark Fic/Dead Dove, Do Not Eat

CoD -

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x Reader: - parallelisms between fwb!gaz & fwb!soap 🔴

Johnny "Soap" Mactavish x Reader: - parallelisms between fwb!gaz & fwb!soap 🟡

- doe-eyed, 1.4k, You're going to let some alpha fuck you because you're broke and just happened to get the call. Thank you for your service. 🔴 (abo fic, dubcon, breeding kink)

- johnny becoming obsessed with reader 🔴⚫(gn!reader, obsessive/possessive behavior, stalking)

- wonder when you'll miss me, multi-chapter cheater!Soap fic 🟡(cheating, unplanned pregnancy, hurt)

- dating soap, who wants you to cuck him for his birthday 🔴 (gn!reader, cuckold soap, size kink, ghoap)

+ forgiveness starts with you, ~300 words, sacrilegious sex with soap 🔴(f!reader, tribbing in a church)

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader: + giving thanks, 503 words, An American your whole life until work brought you to England, Thanksgiving was your favorite holiday. Your boyfriend cements that for you. 🟡 (very light smut, suddenly poly) + dating soap, who wants you to cuck him for his birthday 🔴 (gn!reader, cuckold soap, size kink, ghoap)

+ good girl — ghost x reader, 1.3k, hybrid au inspired by @/dante-mightdie’s post 🔴 (f!reader, breeding kink) Captain John Price x Reader: + what's a bad miracle?, 5.7k, your dream is finally in the process of coming true when you receive the worst call of your life. or just the worst call of your life so far. 🔴⚫ (ex-wife!reader, possessive behavior, voyeurism (accidental and implied non-accidental), drugged sex, non-consensual somnophilia, breeding kink, forced orgasm, implied forced impregnation, forced cheating, rape, dead dove: do not eat) + hold my neck between your teeth - price x reader x nik, 2.7k, When you agreed to marry John, you knew there was someone else. You could deal with that, as long as he agreed to one simple request.🔴 (alcohol, breeding kink, cuck kink, cheating, welcome to the throuple)

Poly 141 x Reader: -

PriceNik x Reader: + hold my neck between your teeth - price x reader x nik, 2.7k, When you agreed to marry John, you knew there was someone else. You could deal with that, as long as he agreed to one simple request.🔴 (alcohol, breeding kink, cuck kink, cheating, welcome to the throuple)

Fallout -

- luck be a lady tonight, [Barb Howard x Mr. House], 3.8k, A small piece of her feels something like pride at this potential show of interest. Another part is completely flummoxed. Barb laughs lightly before shaking her head at herself. She was no starlet. 🔴 (vaginal fingering, piv sex)

[pawborough]

February Check In

Hello, all!

Closed Beta's been open for nearly two weeks now and we’ve been busy at work, and excited to share with everyone some of our progress!

First, let’s look at some art!

Gilded Helm Recolors

We are currently working on the Gilded Helm's recolors, here are some previews!

Recolors by Emma.

New icons

We’ve been busy with icons!

Take a look at the renderings for our eye type and eye palette metamorphic items—lenses and prisms!

We also have the white marbles ready, which allow you to adjust the white coverage of your cats.

Moreover, we’ve created icons for our various shufflestones, which change a cat’s colors to completely random ones or to colors within a specific range.

Last but not least, we have several new food and supply icons ready!

Eye prisms, Shufflestones and marbles by Hydde. Food and supply items by Remmie, Tybaxel, and Nik.

New decor

We also made some progress on decor!

WIP roundable by Remmie and Giulia.

Development Check In

See the initial UIs for our in-development item database and achievement system for archetypes!

Archetypes, as introduced in our January update, are a specific combination of traits which, when fulfilled, mark the cat’s profile with a badge and reward the user as an achievement fulfillment. Below are the initial UI for the achievement part of this mechanic.

Browse through all available items in the game with our item database. Filter by category, rarity, color, or obtainment method to find exactly what you're looking for. Whether it's food, supplies, or metamorphics, everything is at your pawtips!

How is Beta going?

We’ve had a great time with Beta! Over 1100 users signed up! 

While we did have server issues, we opted for optional  maintenance downtimes that lasted between 1 to 5 minutes each to implement solutions. But the server did not and never did crash, which we are very happy about. 

Halfway into the first week, we found a way to optimize, and since then the server has only had issues when we deploy fixes, which is expected during the application’s infancy. As we grow, deployments won't have these consequences, and patches will come out in big batches rather than small deployments. But it works for now as we make steady progress.

We do really enjoy this environment of testing. The amount of QA we get from the test is huge in helping us crack down on issues, and it's monumental in us improving the application. For the first two weeks of Beta, we did a lot of straight grinding to whittle down on the biggest issues, and we're very excited to get back to this pace. The energy has been a blast and a half, and we're happy with the progress we're making.

As we planned, we're doing less in the next two weeks before March. Our developers are taking a brief reprieve, and we’ll be making small updates in the meantime, but not nearly as frequent as the first two weeks of the test. 

Myself (Blue) also needs a few days of rest, and I greatly appreciate the patience with our planned catnap. 

But Beta has been fun as we make progress. That's a huge uplifter! There are a lot of ways in which development can feel thankless, demoralizing, or frustrating for the team. But the engagement from users and the community's joviality has lifted our spirits significantly. It’s great to feel so excited to keep working!

And the feedback has been juicy! There is a lot of very thoughtful criticism that has been sent for us to really sink our teeth into. We couldn't ask for anything better. This dedication will help us improve the application, and we love the time and energy put into feedback tickets. We care a lot about them, and value how much a user must care to send them.

Our projection of running through the summer is holding true based on our progress. We expect to see a very different application by the end of Closed Beta, and one which we’ll listen to the community on with how it's feeling. As we promised, we will not be moving into Open Beta until it feels good and we’ve gotten through our list of update priorities. 

The biggest thing we've learned since the Closed Beta launch is to be more proactive and prepared with our communication. We apologize for the ways we have fumbled in making sure information is readily accessible, sensible, and concentrated, and for not adequately relaying both our intentions and easy instructions for users. We have learned, and we take responsibility for the initial frustration. We deserved the criticism. Thank you for expressing your concerns to us, and we'll employ everything we have learned going forward.

To summarize: We shared decors, Gilded helm recoloring, icons, item database and closed Beta update.

What to expect next month: Further asset and development updates. Check-ins for how closed Beta will be going.

[cod-blurbios]

Btw if anyone wants to use ideas, I’m too tired to write them properly. So here is an odd list.

- “Too Old For You” M!Reader x Soap (who likes that fact)

- Hybrid!Pangolin Child Reader saved by TF141 who happens to curl in on themselves when scared

- Emotionless Reader who learned to fake emotions, but when really tired just becomes super numb towards everybody (awkward shoulder pats, glazed over eyes, disinterest in gossip, etc)

-Emotionally Filtered Reader who doesn’t get into the romance game, doesn’t have sex because they don’t find the meaning of it and nothing seems to be engaging enough to try, but is super interested in learning about how sex and romance plays with our brain chemicals. A sex and romance enthusiast.

-Werewolf!reader who gets super territorial over their spaces, and it’s an honor if they let you in or around those spaces

-Some very projective hc’s for randoms that really make sense for those characters

-Silly headcannons for Graves (he definitely painted his face to look like an American flag and CAAWWWED like an eagle when drunk. Yes his shadows had to embarrassingly shut him up and take him home)

- Vamp!Reader who doesn’t enjoy feeding, at all. Like it’s a life-sustenance but makes them terribly disgusted to need.

-Hybrid!Wolf!Soap x Reader who doesn’t ask for affection (he’s been called needy so much he just quit asking) so he just presses his knee against your own after grueling missions in the back of the humvee

-Roach headcannons that aren’t just: he’s a silly boy xoxo GET SOME DEPTH YOU UNDYNAMIC UGHHH

-Harpy!Gaz (thank you bluegiragi 🙏) who can’t hide when he’s upset because his feathers look so puffed up and messy.

-Harpy!Gaz 2 who can’t (doesn’t) preen his own wings, your hands are just…y’know, you get all the right bristles

-Price headcannons that delve more into his character (esp ‘09 Price) he definitely had to be the leader a lot among his family as a teen and takes on those leadership roles among his team, get more headcannons for his childhood bcs he’s just ‘dad type’ and it’s NOT ENOUGH

-Ghost, who is GENUINELY an asshole. Purely canon and will not hesitate to tell you to get out of ‘his seat’ in the mess hall. Whatever that means.

-Soap headcannons that don’t revolve around Ghost or revolve around being the opposite of Ghost.

-Laswell headcannons abt her and her wife 🙏

-Reader Aus that are straight up contradictions, but work out really well. Short but not fragile (and not the typical ‘sassy/fiesty/bratty’ trope either I hate those, like buff n shii) Like a 5’1 dude who is built like a mini tank.

-Laswell x F!Reader (ofc) that are super doe coded?? She knows what your favorite breakfast on Tuesdays is and you know which day of the week she takes everything showers??

-Just otherworldly outta pocket shit happening to Yuri and Makarov that mocks poorly written AI tropes. WDYM A TREE SUDDENLY FELL DOWN AND PUSHED MAKAROV EVER SO SLIGHTLY CLOSER TO THE POINT HE FELL AND LANDED IN A FOOT-TO-FOOT HANDSTAND WITH YURI

More Nik x Price headcannons that are sweet…ofc they go to the coffee shop every Saturday and just talk about every little detail from each others lives while apart…why wouldn’t they :(

-More hate post shit against Makarov. I want to feel your soul through the screen as you pour it out for what he did to Soap in MWIII

-Bear!hybrid Reader who has to deal with hibernation but it’s realistic (having to sleep for longer but not a whole damn winter)

-More Hybrid!Readers of very out-there creatures (Bees/Polar Bears/Reptiles/Nagas/Centaurs/Cryptids)

Uhh yeah I’ll make a part two in maybe a month or so

[cod-dump]

*zoom meeting shenanigans*

Laswell: John, before the boys join, you should put more clothes on

Price: I’m not putting on pants. They won’t be able to tell! The only reason you know I’m not wearing pants is because you saw me get up to get tea

Laswell: John. I’m warning you now. If Nik realizes you’re not wearing pants, this meeting is going to become uncomfortable really fast because you know his filter is practically non existent

Price: He won’t know! You need to calm down

Laswell: Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you

(An hour later)

Nik: I love how you tease me when I’m out of country

Price: Wha-

Nik: Are you wearing the silk ones?

Price: NIK-

Soap: *crying/laughing off screen*

Ghost: *fell out of his chair and is currently on the floor dying*

Gaz: *horrified, staring into the camera like someone threatened to skin him alive*

Farah: *logged off as soon as Nik said ‘tease’*

Laswell: *silently sips her iced tea*

[on-a-lucky-tide]

please oh my god Soap/Nik is one of my favorite things. Nik seeing something in those blue eyes that he wants to own and Soap being only too happy to let Nik have him. he loves a partner who knows what they are doing and he loves being a bottom for the right man is Nik is the Right Man.

--injestedsoap

"So, ye remember the Berlin wall fallin' then?"

Johnny leaned over the sticky table to get a little closer to Nik. Shit, he'd been trying to shimmy his way into the big guy's lap since their first brew, but Nik was seemingly immune to all his usual charm. Not even a wee flutter of the baby blues had swayed him.

Garrick had disappeared for a tactical chunder about half hour ago and LT had gone looking for him. A text on Johnny's phone informed him that they were staggering back to the barracks hosting them. Johnny would check it at some point.

"Da," Nik replied simply, head cocked to the side as he watched Johnny with that odd look he had sometimes. Like he wasn't sure whether Johnny was being serious or pulling his leg. Johnny'd rather pull on something else, to be frank. And he had been trying to since seeing it in Libya. Fuck, since he'd first watched it bulge out of Nik's jeans. His entire Maslow triangle thing was a giant picture of Nik's cock. It kept him awake at night, hand pumping furiously down his own at the thought of what it might taste like.

"Wow. Tha's... fuck. Huh. Did mah Highers on tha'. A'righ', how aboot... uh, Chernobyl? Ye see tha' go up?"

Nik sighed. "When you were in your mother's womb, I was test flying the Su-37..."

"Naw way, they called that bird the Terminator, righ'? How old were ye?"

"Twenty-one." Nik looked impressed as he replied. Johnny felt his stomach do a little flip. All that googling he'd been doing during down time was paying dividends. He didn't know much and, if he was honest, that one had been a lucky fuckin' guess. But it had made Nik pay attention, see him less like an annoying Scottish gnat and more like an equal.

"Holy shite, I bet ye were dead fit in ye wee blue cap, aye?"

"Sergeant," Nik murmured, that low rumble intended to be a warning but only serving to make Johnny's jeans tighten. "I am old enough to be your father."

"Oh, ah ken. Isnae a problem... bu' I c'n call ye daddy while ah bounce on it if tha' does it fer ye." Johnny chanced a little brush of the hand, forefinger bumping against the side of Nik's palm, which immediately left the table as Nik huffed an incredulous little laugh. Well, it wasn't no, was it? That was a maybe. A definite consideration. Highly likely thing. Johnny was basically in his knickers.

Johnny watched Nik rifle through his jacket and pull a fag out from a crumpled packet. The moment he stuck it between his lips the barman gave a pointed cough and jutted his chin at one of the nearby no smoking signs when Nik glanced up. "U tebya yest' glupoye pravilo na kazhdyy sluchay zhizni," he grumbled as he rolled to his feet. Nik had been working in parts of the world where smoking was still socially acceptable, even encouraged, and he was still acclimatising back to not just doing whatever the fuck he wanted. Hell, Johnny half expected him to light up anyway.

Nik continued to pat down his jacket as he stepped into the street, and Johnny followed him out. "Here go," he flicked his lighter open and bit gently on his own tongue as Nik considered the flame, and then leaned towards it. His damn handsome jaw brushed Johnny's knuckles, dark eyes alive with flickering blue fire. Christ, Nik was fuckin' stunnin'. Damn Slavic Hercules.

"Hercules is Roman myth, not Russian," Nik said around the filter of his fag. Johnny's eyes blew wide. Oh shit, he'd said that out loud.

"Ah though' he was Greek."

"Heracles is the Greek version. The Romans... borrowed the story."

"Shite, yer so smart," Johnny said dreamily. "Surprised ye have enough blood fer yer brain what with... ye know..." Johnny dropped his arm between his legs and swung it to and fro like an elephant's trunk.

Nik smirked with his eyes as he blew smoke to the side. "If I was ten years younger, you would have been just my type."

Get in. Almost there. Johnny leaned his forearm against the wall, trying to look as sultry as possible. "Oh aye? What's yer type? Handsome, smooth talkin' and witty?"

Nik took another drag, tongue wetting his lips. He was studying Johnny closely. Not his physique though, despite Johnny's very best efforts to flex and posture right in front of him. It was his eyes. Nik's dark ones turned back and forth, like he was studying the depths of them for something. Johnny felt a little breathless, pinned to the fuckin' wall; he'd never had such intense eye contact from anyone. The alcohol had lowered Nik's inhibitions to the point he was showing his hand despite his protest. Well, for a moment.

Nik looked away, covering his falter by exhaling the smoke, before he cut Johnny down to size. "Loud, funny and liable to make poor choices."

Johnny puffed his cheeks out. "Ach, ye cannae be serious... ye wan' me, I c'n see it. C'mon, ah'd show ye such a good time."

"I am certain."

Johnny sidled closer, playing with the edge of Nik's jacket. He could see that amazing physique beneath the baggy fit of Nik's t-shirt. It was tight around his chest and shoulders and Johnny wanted to bury his face in those damn tits. His hand ventured to the hem, his fingertips dipping just beneath to find the first soft patch of skin...

Nik tapped his hand away, and Johnny growled. "Fer fuck sake... What'll it take, eh? Wan' me to drop and present? What's holdin' ye back?" He paused and then a new idea slowly uncurled in his mind. Time to change tac. He hummed, smirking. "Ah get it. Ye worried ye won't be able tae keep up. Feelin' it in ye back eh, old man? Well, ye could always lay on it and think of mother Russia, and ah'll promise not tae compare you tae my ex, ah--"

And then suddenly, Nik was in his space. Johnny's back pressed against the wall, his mouth clamping shut as a big hand squeezed his jaw. His heels scrambled against the wet cobblestones as Nik lifted him just a little above his comfortable height, and Johnny had to slap his hands against the brick behind him for purchase. A knee pressed up between his legs and he was forced to rely on it for stability. His hips rocked a little, mouth dropping open, the firm ledge of Nik's thigh offering the tiniest relief to Johnny's aching arousal.

Nik's dark eyes bore into his, dangerous and untamed, his lips a mere inch from Johnny's as he spoke in a low, husky growl that might as well have been a hand stroking Johnny's fuckin' shaft for the physical reaction it caused. "I am not concerned by your ex, sergeant. I would shake his hand with the same one I made you tremble with." Johnny tasted those words; bourbon, rich cigarette smoke and sultry promise that made him gasp softly.

Before his thoughts could unscramble, Nik had pulled away and was walking down the street, one hand in his pocket while the other held his cigarette to his mouth. Johnny was rock hard in his jeans, his chest tight where his heart was trying to beat out of his chest.

With trying to tease Nik, he'd damn well forgot about the wild animal underneath all that affable bravado, those goofy smiles. Nik was a commander of mercenaries, an arms dealer who dealt with the most dangerous people in the world, a natural killer and born hunter. And for a beautiful, breathless moment, Johnny had been his prey.

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 5 - Clandestine Meetings

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

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Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Every interaction has finally led you to this moment, straight into the arms of the man you love.

18+ Only! Minors DNI! (Smut and Mature themes)

CW: Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Infidelity (reader is married). Dirty talk. Smut! Oral (Female receiving). Fingering. Big Dick!Steve. Protected P in V. Hint of a breeding kink (for both reader and Steve).

WC: 8.4K

The hours ticked by at an agonizingly slow pace while sitting in your room waiting for the first trace of light to filter through the curtains so you could sneak back out. You sat alternating between chewing your nails and ringing your hands.

Your only consuming thought was getting back to the office to gain access to your phone and warn Steve.

At least waiting for morning didn't make it quite as suspicious. It would be under the guise that you needed to make sure the space was properly cleaned and organized for business as usual come Monday.

It wasn't unusual. Nik knew you were meticulous, if not a little OCD regarding the gallery. He wouldn't bat an eye your way. At least you hoped so, after what you had overheard on your way in, you had to be extra vigilant.

When those first beams of light finally trickled in, you were off, not bothering to alert your driver or anyone else in the house, grabbing the keys to your cherry red convertible that Nik had purchased for you when you'd returned from your honeymoon.

It was one present you were now thankful for, the only vehicle in the house you had exclusive access to.

You quickly went to the garage and got behind the wheel, starting the engine and initiating the automatic garage door.

Nik watched you from his second-floor window with disdain and contempt, immediately phoning one of his many goons to make sure they followed you. Lucky for you they would have nothing useful to report back to him today.

You raced across town feeling as though you were against some sort of impending countdown.

It was early but you hoped Steve was already up as you sent your text.

6:20 AM: Please call me.

Simple. Effective. The phone rang within 30 seconds.

“What's wrong?” He asked before you had the chance to speak, sounding a little winded. “I'll be there in 10 minutes.”

“No, no. Steve. I'm fine.” You assured him, an audible sigh of relief was heard on the other end of the line. “It's you I'm worried about. When I came home last night, Nik was speaking with the boogeyman. Have you heard of him?”

There was a pause, his mind silently letting it register who you were referring to while choosing his next words carefully to not alarm you in any sort of way.

“I have. What did you hear?”

“Nik said he wanted to have him on standby. It doesn't sound like he's planning anything right away, but it's Nik. Any little thing could set him off.” You felt yourself getting worked up as you took a ragged breath. “Steve, I— I can't—”

“Dove, listen to my voice. Take a deep breath for me, tesoro. It's just you and me right now.”

You focused solely on his calm demeanor, yet commanding tone as you inhaled and then let out a deep exhale like he asked.

“Better?” He questioned.

“Better.” You parroted, a small smile finally gracing your features.

“Good, now let's avoid trying to give me a heart attack first thing in the morning, yeah?” You could hear the relief in his voice as he spoke. He was ready to leave the house at a moment's notice for you. He'd been prepared for all kinds of scenarios, hoping for best but always prepared for the worst.

“I can't promise, but I'll try to save the dramatics for a more reasonable hour.” You laughed, as the rest of your trepidation further slipped away. He had a way of doing that. Making you feel completely calm and safe.

“I'll come by tomorrow, if that's alright.” He took a seat at his desk and leaned back in his plush leather chair with another sigh.

“Of course, but I'm fine. Truly. I just needed to let you know.” I needed to hear your voice.

“I know, Dove. I just want to come by to see my girl.” The words came out so easily, he didn't even notice when they slipped out. In his mind, you were always his.

“Your girl, huh?” You grinned to yourself.

“Always, tesoro mio. Stay safe and say hello to your father for me.”

“My father?”

“It's Sunday, no? That was always a tradition in your house. Don't tell me you don't do that anymore.” Something Steve had always longed for. A family that actually cared enough for one another to have dinner once a week. He craved that kind of closeness with his own family some day.

“Of course, it's just— nothing, it doesn't matter. I'll see you tomorrow, amore mio.”

Amore mio. Your parting words had him over the moon. You were still his, in every way. He had a few more surprises for you in the days to come and he couldn't wait to share them with you.

He suddenly felt like a teenager again. Sneaking around so his father wouldn't find you together, except this time the stakes were much higher. He knew the dangers, but you were more than worth it.

-

The truth you didn't want to tell Steve was that you hadn't made lunch plans with your father. Not since the day he shed light on everything that he knew.

You had been keeping him at an arm's length. Texting him instead of calling him. Avoiding any face-to-face interactions if at all possible. It wouldn't last forever but right now it's what you needed.

He respected your decision, but he was hurting too. His only child going from devoted daughter to almost completely ignoring him gave him immediate whiplash, but deep down he knew he deserved it. After that day, he vowed to make everything right.

He was prepared to follow through, whatever the cost. He wasn't about to lose the only light he had left in his miserable life.

The day was open to possibilities, rarely staying at home anymore unless some sort of “wifely” duty was called for, but even that was becoming less frequent. You suspected Nik wanted nothing to do with you at this point.

It did worry you, but at the same time there was a huge sense of relief.

It was a beautiful, sunshine filled day. A walk around the park to clear your head and get some fresh air was high on the agenda.

You found an empty park bench close to the playground to read for a while.

The breeze was warm, spring would soon usher in summer, as children laughed and carried on around you. The book you tried to read, long forgotten sitting closed beside you.

You let yourself imagine for a moment what it would be like to be nothing more than a woman sitting at a bench who was free to do as she pleased, not chained to a life she was born into but one that was all her own.

Given the chance, you could walk away but the man you loved could never have that luxury. Deep down you know that he would have tried to make your life as normal as possible because it's what you had always wanted.

A simple dream of being a wife and someday a mother almost seemed too out of reach but when you looked at him you could still picture it all perfectly. You were both like minded, sharing the same dreams and goals. It has always been that way.

A child screamed in the distance, knocking you from your daydream. It was getting late in the afternoon as you packed your things and headed back home for the day.

You'd been expecting him all morning.

“Excuse me, miss?” He asked toward you and your assistant, Abigail turned as you bit your lip, hiding the smile that threatened to give you away all too easily.

“Yes, sir, Mr. Harrington. How can…” Your assistant began, but you quickly cut it, relieved to see him again.

“That's okay, Abigail. I'll see this gentleman.” She nodded and quickly dashed away.

He had turned back to a sculpture that had just made it to the floor, hands clasped behind his back seemingly studying it as you walked up standing beside him.

“Quite exquisite, no?” You asked.

“It's well, it's…” he tilts his head, eyes roving down and back up your body instead. “I would say breathtaking.”

“Is that so, Mr. Harrington?” You finally meet his gaze, soft hazel eyes focused solely on you as he studies your face.

You didn't want to break the trance, but it was beginning to feel suffocating being in this close proximity to him.

You swallowed thickly before looking away from him, cheeks flushing pink. You'd hope he hadn't noticed.

“So, does anything catch your eye?” Simply referring to the art.

“Absolutely. But what I want is sadly unavailable.” He whispered; you hadn't noticed when he'd inched closer; his woodsy scented cologne suddenly surrounding you.

You met his eyes, as he tucked his bottom lip briefly between his teeth drawing your attention back to his pouty lips.

“I would love nothing more than to take her home. Show her all the ways I've missed her, wishing I could take it all back.” Your body felt like it was being pulled toward him, as his eyes drifted to your lips.

“Steve, I—” It came out almost pained, as you released a breath you'd been holding.

“I told you once if this is too much, I'll stop. Just tell me what YOU need.”

Need. Not want. As if he already knew.

“I need room to breathe. I need the love and affection I so desperately crave. I need freedom.” Your eyes checked the room before stepping closer and whispering to him. “And most of all, I need you.”

“I'm working on that.” He replied, a small twinkle in his eye. He was up to something.

“I trust you are, but right now, Mr. Harrington, I need to get back to work.”

“Of course, I'll leave you to it.” He reached for you, fingertips grazing lightly across your skin before pulling your hand up tenderly to his lips placing a small kiss to the back of your hand; squeezing lightly before letting it rest back at your side.

The moment his lips touched your skin your mind went blank. You stare at him unblinking for a moment more before he smiles.

“Arrivederci, my dove.” He turned, leaving you to trail after him.

Steve would stop at nothing to keep you safe and make you his once more. He was ready to play the long game and he knew he'd win; family or husbands be damned. He knows who your heart truly belongs to just as he knows his has always belonged to you.

You had a habit of leaving your burner out in the afternoon while you finished working.

Sometimes he would text or call, knowing you were still at the office. You checked it after taking a small break.

921-987-5555 5:38PM: Tesoro, I left a few things unsaid this afternoon. Are you free to talk?

Sent 6:09 PM: Of course.

The phone began to buzz a few moments later.

“Mr. Harrington?” You asked.

“Ms. Alexander, it would be a pleasure to have you accompany me for dinner tomorrow evening.” He stated.

“Ste—” releasing a heavy sigh, as he interrupted.

“Ah, ah I know what you're going to say, but just listen. I have a place just around the corner from your gallery. It'll just be you and I, away from prying eyes.” Pausing a moment to light a cigarette between his lips letting what he had just said sink in for a moment. The two of you. Alone.

“What do you say? I'll show you those cooking skills and make us a nice dinner.” Taking a large drag, giving you the moment to speak.

“I— I'll think about it. It's—”

“Hey, don't worry about those goons or the goddamn Boogeyman. You deserve a night without worries. I want to give you that at least. Just think about it. Please?” He chimed in, as your mind began to drift with the possibilities.

“Okay.” You replied softly. “I'll think about it.”

“Good girl.” He purred, leaning back in his chair, propping his feet up on his desk. If his father could see him now, he'd likely kill him. “Take the night, Dove. Think it over.”

And you had been thinking it over. The last four hours lying in bed staring at the ceiling. It all felt like a fever dream. It was happening so fast yet taking its time.

You began to relive that moment from the gala over and over, always wishing and hoping for more. This was your chance.

You suddenly began aching with need at the thought of finally being alone with him, imagining his large hands roaming your body. His lips trailing soft kisses. His mouth, exploring and tasting you.

Your fingertips slipped past the waistband of your satin sleep shorts until they swirled along your clit, dipping further to your entrance as images of the two of you tangled together danced behind your eyelids. It didn't take very long for your orgasm to build at the thought of him filling you completely, remembering vividly what his cock looked and felt like.

He was bigger than anyone you'd been with since, not only long but thick with a prominent vein that ran down the underside almost from base to tip. You could picture the way he stretched you open with just his head, working you down his length little by little while whispering sweet praises in your ear.

“Steve.” You whispered out, breathy and high, working yourself as your fingers tried to reach that sweet spongy spot inside you. Your clit was throbbing, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you came harder than you had in a long time, picturing him telling you what a good job you'd done.

You slept easy that night.

It was never a choice. Your mind has been made up since the first time you had laid eyes on him again. It was time to take a leap.

Once you'd reached the office, you sent him a simple text stating, “when and where?”

It was followed quickly with an answer. His driver would be parked around back at 7 PM.

Your nerves were high, and your heart was pounding, excitement more than anything fueling your body.

When you locked up the driver was already outside waiting for you just as Steve had instructed, opening the door for you.

“For you miss.” Announcing when you got closer, handing you a small manila envelope. You hold it close as you sit down. “We don't have far to go, but do you need anything?”

“No, thank you.” Replying as he nodded and closed the door. No doubt under Steve's explicit instructions to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

The envelope has a little weight to it, you noted while opening it. No letter, you flipped it over as a brass key fell into your hand with a small slip of paper.

Top floor. Apartment 3.

Take the elevator, it's the last door on the left.

This was it. It felt like everything had been leading up to this moment and your life was about to change. If only you knew how true that would be after tonight.

The driver stopped about a block away at a smaller, but well-maintained apartment complex. Very low key. Your head swiveled, eyes looking over your shoulder for any hint of being followed.

“That key will open the main door; the apartment should be unlocked.” Tipping his hat as you exited the vehicle and walked the couple of stairs up to the front.

The interior was nice, recently updated with fresh paint and new flooring. The elevator was adjacent to the door, you entered and pressed 5 as it began to ascend.

You shifted, tapping your foot in time with each beat of your heart for the short ride up, as the door slid open revealing an equally empty hallway.

You took a deep breath, stepping out, immediately noticing a large, very intimidating gentleman posted by the stairwell. He spoke into an earpiece as you walked past him, otherwise ignoring your presence.

Steve has enough security stationed at various strategic points that no one could get within a fifty-foot radius of the two of you tonight.

Face to face with the cream-colored door adorned with the brass 3, you wondered if you should knock but dismissed the silly notion because he was expecting you, after all.

You slowly turned the matching brass knob, letting the door swing open slightly.

The intoxicating aroma of rosemary and garlic wafted through the air to meet you, pushing the door open so you could slip in.

It was a smaller apartment, the entrance situated inside the kitchen. His back was turned, humming to himself, as he chopped some fresh herbs.

His black dress shirt sleeves were rolled up his forearms, with a towel slung over his shoulder, still dressed in his expensive trousers and Italian loafers. He almost seemed completely out of place but at the same time, exactly where he should be.

Closing the door softly, you lean against the wall taking in the sight. He looks completely domesticated and it immediately feels like home.

For a few moments, you can imagine that this is your life. The life you were meant to have. Coming home to him each night. A loving, and caring man that had only had your best interests at heart. You craved these kinds of intimate moments.

He finished chopping and tossed the leafy greens into a pot of simmering sauce on top of the stove.

“There's a bottle of wine and a glass for you on the table.” He spoke, taking a spoon to stir in his newly added ingredients. “I know merlot isn't your favorite, but it pairs well with the meal.”

“Merlot is fine Steve. You'll find my tastes have changed somewhat.” Tossing your purse to the open counter beside you.

“Is that so?” He raised a brow toward you, looking over his shoulder before turning his attention back to his spoon raising it to his lips to have a small taste.

“That is so, Mr. Harrington.” You grinned, pouring your wine as you looked over the label, but it was from an Italian vineyard you hadn't heard of.

“Need any help with that?” Asking as you stepped closer to him.

“Now, what kind of host would I be if I let you lift a finger? Hmmm?” Pulling the towel from his shoulder, wiping his hands and tossing it to the counter before turning his attention fully to you. He found his own glass, eyeing you appreciatively over the rim as he took a sip.

“You look nice today.” Saying as an almost afterthought, eyes trailing down and back up. You were wearing a maroon silk button up, paired with a simple black skirt, sheer black hosiery and matching heels. Normal work attire.

“As opposed to any other day?” You giggled, sipping on the rich wine, noting hints of blackberry and subtle dark chocolate when the liquid splashed along your tastebuds.

“Tesoro,” he states, setting his wine down and taking a few steps to close the gap between you as you follow his lead, setting your own glass down. His hands come to rest on either side of your hips, your own landing on his chest, as you look up at him with bemused curiosity.

“You look beautiful, EVERY day.” He was crowding your space, invading your senses. A tingling, buzzing feeling began to hum beneath your skin. He was so close when he spoke his warm breath fanned across your cheek.

“You don't see me everyday.” You remarked, eyes trained on his, subtly shifting to his lips and back up.

“Don't remind me.” He huffed, his hold drifting to your lower back, pressing you closer still.

You were suddenly hungry for something other than food, as you bit your lower lip, looking up at him as if he'd hung the moon with stars in your eyes. You could feel the heat of his body radiating between the thin layers of fabric separating you, your own heat just beginning to pool between your thighs.

“Oh, wait.” Remembering what you had bought earlier in the day, reluctantly pulling from his grasp.

You reached your purse, noticing the rings still adorning your left hand. Pausing a moment, you pulled them off, slipping them into a side compartment. You weren't a Petrov tonight, pushing all thoughts of Nik aside.

It was just you and Steve.

“Here!” You pulled a box out, tossing it toward his chest. He caught it easily, looking down with a puzzled look.

“Condoms?” He quirked his brow up at you.

“Uh, we can't be too careful right now. As much as I would love for you to— um” you giggled, turning away from him briefly, suddenly feeling shy under his questioning gaze.

“Fuck you raw?” He finished with a salacious grin that had you blushing like a schoolgirl. “Like we haven't done that before?” He huffed an incredulous laugh.

“Yeah, well, Nonna Vittoria made sure we were covered back then, Steve. I haven't taken birth control since I got married.” You sucked in your bottom lip between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes. “If I remember correctly, your pullout game was terrible.”

His mouth fell open slightly, with a small gasp that had you laughing out. Nerves slowly melting away with the lighthearted banter.

“That isn't my fault. IF I remember correctly, you were the one always begging for it.” His hands drifted to his hips as he shot you a playful glare.

“Steven! I did not! We have to be careful until…” You looked away again, suddenly feeling shy once more. A silly notion.

“Until?” He questions further, taking a step into your space.

“Just until, well— we're together.”

“Are we not together?” His hand cups the nape of your neck, as the other drifts to your hip pulling you into him. You toy with his collar before looking into his honey hued irises that seemed to draw you in.

“You know what I mean, Steve. I can't exactly be fucking you without some sort of plan.”

“Wait, is that why you're here?” He looks around the room, as if confused. “I thought I was just making us a nice dinner.”

“Stop!” You whine out, slapping his chest, squirming slightly to step away from his grasp but he holds firm.

“Where do you think you're going, huh?” He asks, leaning in, the tip of his nose nudging yours. “I'm not letting you go.”

“Promise?” Tilting your head to look up at him through your lashes.

“I promise, tesoro mio.”

He leans in, his lips meeting yours with a needy and raw excitement. Intense in all the best ways but you needed more. You were hungry, licking at his mouth. Tongues meeting in a messy crescendo, tasting each other, as if it were the first time all over again, nerves suddenly giving away to butterflies dancing at your ribs.

Your hands began pawing at his chest, gripping the fabric of his starchy, black dress shirt. Fingers finding the buttons and making quick work of them.

“No interruptions this time?” You breathe out, pulling slightly away from him, pushing his shirt open, as he grips the bottom to move it free from his slacks and lets it peel away from his body leaving him in his undershirt.

“No. Fuck no. He's under strict orders not to bother us.” His lips find your jaw.

A small giggle quickly turns into a breathy moan as hot, open mouth kisses trail down your neck then to your collarbone. The fabric of your top hangs loosely around your shoulder as he starts to suck lightly, eliciting a moan from the sensation. He has to stop himself from leaving a mark, placing another kiss there instead.

He unlatches his lips momentarily to look you in the eyes, already blown full of lust.

“I thought instead of going at it on top of your desk, you deserve a proper bed. A proper fuck.”

His nimble fingers begin unbuttoning your top, moving slowly as he speaks again, savoring the way your body tenses at his movements.

“I want to take my time. Worship you, the way you deserve.” He reaches the last button, pulling it away from your skirt and lets the silk drift open, revealing a lacy black bra underneath. The cooler air hitting your skin makes you shiver slightly.

His hand comes to cradle your jaw. The affection you've come to crave, a foreign concept to you as you melt into his touch.

His thumb traces over your bottom lip, the feeling makes your eyes flutter closed. Your teeth graze his thumb pad when he pushes slightly past your lips, before your tongue darts out swirling the tip of his digit, taking him into your mouth and sucking.

He groans out, suddenly pulling away, and wrapping his arms back around you.

“Fuck. My dirty girl.” He grits out, hands reaching the fat of your ass pushing you flush to his hips, his fingers gather the fabric of your skirt in his hands with aching length pressed into your lower stomach. The anticipation was suddenly overwhelming. You needed him like you needed air to breathe.

“Steve,” you manage before he dips down and captures your lips again, as if reading your mind. His palms cup your ass and hoists you up on the counter situated behind you, making you squeak out in surprise as your heels slide from your feet with a thud onto the tile floor below.

You grip his shirt as he shifts forward, wrapping your legs around his waist, your skirt riding up when you grind your hips forward searching for any kind of friction to alleviate the prominent ache between your legs, finding his bulge with ease as you both moan out in unison.

His hands slip your shirt from your shoulders, without breaking your heated kiss, letting it drop to the floor to meet his. His palm finds your breast, kneading your warm, pliant flesh.

You suddenly grip his length through his trousers, making him release a guttural groan that has him pulling back.

“Fuck.” He hisses, forehead coming to meet yours, panting into each other's space. His pause made you momentarily question if you'd done something wrong.

“I wa— no, I need to taste you.” His voice is raspy and lust laden, taking something silver from his pocket that suddenly catches your eye.

“Are you very fond of these tights?” He asks. You realize he's holding a switchblade that pops open with a push of his thumb.

Your answer comes as you part your thighs further for him, rucking your skirt up to your waist as his eyes land on your core.

In one swift motion, he pulls them taut away from your skin and easily slices upward through the thin nylon material.

“And those?” Eyes flitting back up to you just a moment to seek your permission on the next barrier. In this moment, you didn't care if he cut every piece of clothing from your body.

You nod, sucking in a breath when his fingers delicately dip past the band, slipping the blade under and cutting both sides, as it falls away from your soaked pussy.

Closing the blade, he tosses it to the counter beside you as his hands wrap around the plush of your thighs.

“I'll buy you new ones.” He absentmindedly says, eyes glued to your glistening folds, suddenly pulling you toward the edge of the counter as he takes a knee, tossing your left leg over his shoulder.

His free hand pushes your thigh to further accommodate his frame as he finally comes to eye level with his meal, warm breath fanning your exposed core, causing you to shudder.

His name slipped past your lips in a breathy whine.

“I know, angel.” He cooed, eyes catching yours as his thumb and forefinger came to slowly spread your lips open for him. “Look at you, a mess already.”

He leaves you no time to respond, his tongue finding your entrance, the tip entering slightly before licking a broad stripe all the way up to your aching clit. Your hips jolt involuntarily at the sensation his mouth brings, as he moans into your pussy.

He unlatches himself momentarily to check your already blissed out expression. Barely holding yourself up with shaky arms, with your head thrown back.

“Angel, just lay back f’me.” He says, as you look back down toward him, slowly lowering your back to meet the counter. “That's it. We might be here a while, baby. Your arms were already getting tired.”

As soon as you get more comfortable, he pulls your other leg over his shoulder to dive back in. He began by swirling his tongue across your puffy clit, then flicking it, setting a rapid pace that already has your head spinning.

He'd grown as a man, and obviously gained some new skills along the way that suddenly made you feel a pang of jealousy.

You pushed those thoughts from your mind, instead running your fingers through his perfectly quaffed mane, tugging when his tongue slid back down to your entrance.

“O— oh, Steve.”

Darting in and out, his nose brushing your clit with every upward movement, then moving back up, sucking it a little harshly and soothing it with the fluid motion of his expert muscle.

His eyes close for brief moments but he wanted to watch you fall apart.

His lips and tongue focus on your bundle of nerves, easing his finger up to your entrance, swirling and teasing before dipping in gradually to see your reaction.

You moaned out, tugging a little more harshly on his locks.

He pushes his digit into your soaked hole, feeling it clench around him. He quickly adds a second as your back arches off the counter pushing your pussy further into his face, his fingers moving in and out of your tight channel.

He curves them up, stroking, searching for that spot that will have you screaming his name.

“Steve! Right there!” You whine out when he finds it, grinning to himself.

He doesn't stop, watching as your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back against the counter. Your hips grind into his face chasing your high.

Your mouth goes slack, each brush of his fingertips and suckle of his lips sending you closer to the edge. You'd all but forgotten pleasure that an expert lover could bestow until this very moment.

He begins to flick his tongue in time with his fingers thrusting in and out of you, first rapidly from side to side, then up and down.

He wouldn't let up until he made you come, uncaring how hard his cock was straining and aching against the confines of his trousers.

“Ah— Ste— I'm, I—” Your orgasm suddenly hit with a blinding force, unable to get out a coherent thought before your pussy clenched down around his fingers as you began to writhe and moan beneath him. He pins you to the counter with his free hand when your hips begin to rise, making you take everything he was giving you.

He moans into your cunt, your juices leaking out around his fingers, lapping up your arousal with eager need.

He works you through your release, before you have to push his face away, trying to scoot away from the sensitivity of it all.

“Steve, Steve. Stop. I—” You huff out, chest heaving, trying to catch your breath.

He grins, lips and chin shining with your release, that he gladly licks away. Your legs fall from his shoulders when he eases back up from the floor draping himself over your body, brushing the hair from your face.

You slowly open your eyes to see him beaming down at you, with a bright smile and shining eyes.

“Hi.” You giggle.

“Hi, angel.” Kissing the tip of your nose, before his lips brush over yours.

You wound your arms around his neck, finding his lips, greedily licking into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue.

His cock stirs, pinned up against your core, alerting you to his unsatiated desire. His hand finds the back of your neck, as he guides you to sit up gripping your thighs as you wrap them around his waist, locking your ankles at the base of his spine.

He carries you down the small hall to the bedroom, his lips working against yours the entire way, finding the edge of the bed, easing you both down. When your back hits the mattress, you finally detach from him long enough to help pull his undershirt over his head and toss it somewhere across the room.

He sits back, as you unzip the side of your skirt, pushing it down your thighs and tossing it away as well.

The small lamp in the corner provides enough light for your eyes to rove the expanse of his chest and abdomen. A silver chain is nestled in his chest hair, a matching bracelet adorns his left wrist.

A bronzed backdrop for the constellations that were scattered across his body, but he’s littered with a few more scars than you remember.

Steve had never been one for tattoos, but he had one on his bicep, his family crest along with something you couldn't quite make out on the left side of his ribs.

He smiled, looking down to where your eyes had landed, as you tilted your head to gain a better look.

His finger traces the outline of a small bird. A dove, with an olive branch held between its beak.

“I always carried you with me. You're my peace, my purity and everything good in this world. We can't change what we were born into Dove, but we can choose who we love. It's always been you.” Your glossy eyes found his; heart suddenly aching with his admission.

He leans back over you, thumb brushing an errant tear that slipped from your eye.

“I love you. I never stopped loving you, tesoro mio,” He whispers, speaking from his heart.

“I love you, amore mio.” Whispering back, with a sense of relief washing over you. A secret long held, burning you from the inside out, finally speaking it out loud and back into existence once more.

He leans in, kissing you tenderly, less hurried than before, taking every precious moment with you that he can. It's a gift not to be squandered.

He wants nothing more than to take his time and reacquaint himself with your body once more.

He pulls back, as you chase his lips with a whine, but his hands quickly find his belt, unbuckling it and popping the button on his trousers before you halt his movement.

“Let me.” You move to shift to your knees, but instead of helping him from his pants you reach around to unclasp your bra first. The straps ease down your arms as your chest is revealed to him.

He groans, reaching out to close his hand around your breast. You pull your lip between your teeth when his thumb grazes your nipple, sending a spark shooting back down to your core. You lean into his touch, your own fingers finding his zipper and pulling it down.

Your hands push his pants as the pool at his knees on the bed. The tent in his boxers doing nothing to quell your desire that's slowly beginning to build back up. Licking your lips, you grow a little brazen, pushing past his waistband and taking his girthy cock into your hand.

He's hot and heavy, bigger than you remember as you squeeze slightly. He tips his head back with a wanton moan, suddenly pulling your hand away as he slides from the bed. You pout at his abruptness.

“Hang on!” He calls back as he quickly darts out the room, hanging onto his pants to keep them from sliding from his hips.

You let out a small laugh, laying back against the silk covered pillow.

He comes back into view, holding up the box of condoms long forgotten on the kitchen floor, laying them on the nightstand as he comes back over to you.

He swiftly pushes his pants and boxers past his hips, letting them pool at his feet as he steps free of them.

Your eyes drift to where his hand is already wrapped around his cock. He pumps himself a few times, finding the head and smearing his precum down his shaft with a groan.

Finally joining you back on the bed, he situates himself back between your legs. His leg pushes yours further apart as he crawls up to meet you face to face, chest pressed tightly to yours.

He's a weak man. Say the word and he would slide into your dripping cunt without another word but he sees the way your eyes cut to condoms when his dick twitches at your bare core.

Leaning over, he furiously rips the box open and takes one out. He opens the small package, looking at you one more time for confirmation.

“It's just for a little while.” You lament. He nods, rolling it down onto his shaft.

“As you wish, Dove.” Saying as he finishes with the condom, holding himself at the base as he leans back over you, guiding himself to your entrance and stopping.

“Just know this,” his lips grazing yours as he spoke. “I can't wait for the day you beg for me to fuck my cum into this tight, little pussy.”

You gasp, cunt suddenly clenching when his head catches your entrance and breaches just slightly. It takes everything in him not to bury himself completely.

Your legs tighten around his waist at the intrusion, as he slowly cants his hips forward. His thick cock presses slowly into your tight heat. You hadn't been with anyone in a few years, let alone anyone that could ever compare to Steve's size.

“How the hell did we make this work before?” You huffed out, pressing your lips tightly back together with a grimace.

“Hey, it's ok.” He leaned down on his elbow, pressing his body close to yours, trying not to laugh at your pouty expression that he found absolutely adorable.

His fingertips smooth out the lines between your brows from where they were pinched, you melted into his touch, listening to his soothing voice.

“This little pussy just needs to relax.” He said, trying to keep a straight face, as you let out a small giggle.

He felt your muscles loosen slightly, granting him further access letting him push in another inch.

“See, angel. She knows what she wants.” He lifted his torso to look between the two of you. Barely halfway in, but he was trying to restrain himself for you.

You nod, as he pulls himself out and pushes back in. In and out, in and out at a slow but steady rhythm. His cock inching along your channel a little further each time, drawing small gasps and moans from you.

“That's it.” He praises, finally pushing in to the hilt, burying his face in your neck as you wrap your arms back around him.

“Y— you feel so fuckin' good.” He breathes out, pulling almost all the way out, barely leaving his head in.

“Ahhhhhh— fuck!” You cry out when his hips snap forward, plunging back in without any warning punching the air from your lungs at the force.

“Are you okay?” He breathes out, looking down at you.

“Fi— fine. Ju—just keep—mmmm—don’t fucking stop!” You manage out between his steady thrusts.

“There's my girl,” urging your thigh higher on his hip, he grips the headboard for more leverage, suddenly pounding in and out of your tight cunt.

The mix of your moans with skin slapping skin echo around the room. The new angle has him hitting that spot within you over and over as your mind starts to go fuzzy and numb.

Your nails dig into his back, urging him on.

“Fuck, Dove. Mark me. Claim me.” His head tilts back, his silver chain dangling in your face. You grip it, catching his attention as you pull him back down toward you.

“Kiss me, Steve. Please.” Suddenly needing him closer.

He could hear the waver in your voice. There were tears spilling hot over your cheeks, as he heard another soft “please” fall from your lips.

He stills, cupping your jaw, leaning back into your space; his lips meeting yours with tender urgency as they meld together.

Your fingers still grip the chain tightly, your free hand running up the back of his neck, nails scraping at his scalp and toying with the hair there.

You needed tenderness that his lips and touch could provide. A sense of intimacy that you haven't felt with anyone in a long time, not even your own husband.

“Angel, Ca—can I move?” He mumbles breathlessly against you.

You nod, as his thick cock drags out and pushes back in. His heavy balls hitting your ass with his upward thrust.

His hand slides down between the two of you, finding your neglected clit, drawing figure 8s with precision.

“I want you to come with me.” He said, kissing the side of your neck.

“Please.” It seems that's all you could manage. The only word in the forefront of your mind. You didn't know exactly what you were asking for at this point.

“I've got you, baby.” Pecking your lips once more before angling his hips up, and hitting that spot with the head of his cock that has you crying out with reckless abandon.

“St— please, don't stop.”

“Wouldn't dream of it.” He responds, keeping his pace, staving off his own release to see you fall apart one more time.

His eyes drift across your flushed face, so concentrated with pleasure and pure ecstasy, he couldn't fathom anyone ever denying you when you look like this. But he knows now you're his and no one else deserves to see you like this. No one else will EVER see you like this.

Your pussy fluttered, as your hips meet his next thrust pulling another particularly loud moan from you.

He was so lost looking at you, he momentarily forgot all about himself, solely focusing on giving you what you wanted he barely caught what you'd said before he felt his brain almost short circuit.

“We could ju— mmmmm— just pretend.” You repeated. “I want you to come in me.”

You were babbling at this point, that buzz in your abdomen was getting stronger, pulling you toward another high. Your hips were meeting his with more urgency.

“You’d like that, huh? Having another man’s cum deep inside you.”

Your pussy responded to his words, sending a shiver down your spine and straight to your core.

“Oh— St—” but he didn't let up. He could feel you getting close.

"But you're not really his, huh, Dove?” His nose nudges your cheek. “Huh, baby? Look at me.”

You slowly look up at him, his hair a wild mess from your fingers tangling in the chestnut tresses. Those hazel eyes are almost black as they bore into yours. His next words nearly send you over the edge.

“He doesn't deserve this pussy. It's mine.” He stops toying with your clit, instead grinds his hips so his pubic bone grazes it with every upstroke; taking his hand and pulling yours away from his necklace, threading his fingers through yours as they mold together so perfectly.

“Yes! God—yes! Mmph— Steve, it's all yours. I'm all yours!” Clawing at his shoulder, gripping his hand tightly.

“That’s right, angel! You're all mine.”

It felt like the world stopped, a blinding light behind your eyelids and all sound seemed to fade. A hot white heat flooded your core with the most intense orgasm you'd experienced in a long time. With a scream of his name, your back arches off the bed meeting his chest as he continues to rail you into oblivion.

“That's it, make a mess! Cum on my cock—fuck!” He couldn't finish talking you through it when your cunt clamped down around him, it was all over for him. His abdomen tightened, pushing his length as far into your cunt as he could, his head nudging your cervix as he released into the condom, wishing he was filling you full instead.

They always say sex is better with someone you love. Something about him completely surrounding and grounding you was a high, in and of itself, that you couldn't explain.

He finally stills a few moments later, head falling to your chest. You were both sweaty and spent. Your limbs felt like they were entirely boneless but you managed to wrap your arms back around him as he caged you in.

He bared his weight until you coaxed him to lay on top of you, rubbing soft patterns up and down his spine in the quiet afterglow. He snaked his arms under you, burying his head between your breasts.

“Fuck, I love you.” He finally spoke, kissing up your sternum as his eyes met yours.

He didn't want to ask, he wanted to keep you safe and wrapped up in his arms for as long as possible but he knew the inevitability of the situation.

It's as if you knew what he was thinking.

“I can't stay.” You whisper.

“I know, but just a little while longer.” He moves to get up, removing himself from you as you wince, already missing the way he could fill you completely.

“Sorry, tesoro. Stay right here. I'll be right back.” He kisses your cheek, slipping into the bathroom to dispose of the condom before returning to find his boxers and pulling them back over his ass as you gave him an appreciative once over.

“Don't move.” He reiterated, moving into the hall.

You laid there listening to the clinking of china and silverware, a few grumblings and a loud “shit,” that made you giggle and sit up in the bed.

He emerged from the hall carrying two plates loaded with the long forgotten pasta he had made for you.

“There's a robe over there in the drawer for you, in case you don't want to eat in the nude.” He grinned, as you slowly got up and pulled said robe from the dresser. You paused, noticing it was stocked with various other clothes as well.

“If you need them.” He said as you turned back around, tossing the silk over your shoulders as you slipped back in beside him. “This place is fully stocked with whatever you might need.”

“You really are too good to be true, Mr. Harrington.” Saying as he handed you a plate.

“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “Eat.” Steering the conversation.

He didn't want to argue the virtue of his morality. He was an outright ruthless asshole when he was outside these walls but you could bring him to his knees with one simple smile.

There would come a time when that conversation would need to be had but he wasn't worried about it right now.

You take a bite and the rich sauce explodes on your taste buds as you hum around the fork, closing your eyes to savor it.

“Oh my God! This is so good!”

He grinned around his own mouthful, thoroughly amused with your response.

“What else is there I don't know about you? Hmmm?” You inquired.

“Oh, I think we'll have plenty of time to catch up, no?” He planted a kiss to your cheek, sitting back against the headboard enjoying the moment, while he still could.

Once you both were both stuffed, he wouldn't let you lift a finger as he took the plates back to the kitchen.

He came to lay next to you as your fingertips traced the tattoo as he fondly recalled the memory of getting it. It wasn’t long after he left, but he was waiting to surprise you. A surprise that had taken a bit longer than he had initially anticipated. He left out the part that the ink had caused numerous arguments with an ex-girlfriend when he wouldn't get it covered for her, ultimately ending the tumultuous relationship.

You had gotten quiet, getting tired as the night was drawing to an all too soon close.

“Steve?” Coming out barely above a whisper.

“Hmmm?” He hummed into the top of your hair.

“I just want you to know what you're getting into. Nik isn't going to just let me go. This— Us.” You couldn't help from tearing up at the thought of returning back to that life like this never happened.

“Dove, don't worry about that. Leave it to me. There are things that are going on that you don't know about. That I don't want you to know.” He tucked you in closer to him, kissing your temple.

“Do you trust me?”

“With my life.” You answered, letting yourself shed a single tear. It was the truth but it still didn't quell the fear bubbling just below the surface.

He held you a little tighter, basking in the way his heart soared. Elated to have you back in his arms, exactly where you belonged.

A little while later he watched you get dressed, sans your underwear and hosiery. That little detail had him grinning again as you blushed.

He'd made a mental note to make sure you had new ones the next time you came by to replace them.

He held your hand as he walked you to the door, reluctantly releasing you after peppering you with another barrage of kisses that had you laughing out, a sound he could easily get lost in.

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you, Y/N.”

You smiled at the rarity of your actual name gracing his lips.

You would take the impact of the moment, truly the entire day, with you until you could see him again. Hiding it away and showing it the light of day in secret but his love and affection would keep you going until you could finally show the entire world that he was yours once again.

Taglist: @teen--marvel @micheledawn1975 @thecreelhouse @girlwiththerubyslippers @bunnyhargrove @taccobelle @madaboutjoe

Want to be added? Just let me know!

[cod-thoughts]

I can feel the heat on my face

Word count: 1.6k

Relationships: NikPrice, PriceNik

Tags: Price wears a crop top, Nik loves it, fade-to-black, suggestive themes, fluff

So this was written based off of this post from @on-a-lucky-tide and the subsequent beautiful art by @nekrosmos, your brains collectively made me write this and then i left it for like a month rip but i finished it!! its short and i may or may not have a smutty second part that im debating sharing too, we'll see how brave i get 0_0

Nik bought Price some new gym outfits as a bit of a joke, little did he know that seeing his Captain in a cropped hoodie and shirt would alter his brain chemistry the way it did Keep reading under the cut or on AO3

The early morning sunlight filtered through the edges of the curtains, casting faint, golden lines onto the bedroom floor. The flat was quiet save for the muffled hum of the city beyond the windows, distant and unobtrusive. Price stirred under the duvet, one arm stretching lazily across the bed, his hand brushing against the cool, empty space where Nik had slept. He cracked an eye open and frowned. Of course Nik was already up.

A low groan rumbled in his chest as he shifted, rubbing a hand over his face to chase away the lingering fog of sleep. His beard scratched against his palm, grounding him in its familiar texture. He blinked blearily at the room, catching sight of the small pile of neatly folded clothes resting on the chair near the bed. Nik’s doing, no question.

It was routine—whenever they planned to hit the gym together, Nik would leave Price’s kit ready to go. A silent nudge, Price supposed, to stop him from lazing about and rolling back into bed. It was thoughtful, in its way, though it always carried a hint of Nik’s stubborn insistence.

With a resigned grunt, Price swung his legs over the side of the bed, the cool wood floor shocking against his bare feet. He stretched, his muscles stiff from sleep, before padding over to the chair. His eyes were still half-closed as he grabbed the shirt first. The fabric was soft and lightweight, practical enough for a workout. He tugged it on, his movements sluggish, only for his hand to freeze midway.

The shirt wouldn’t go any lower. Price frowned, blinking himself into full awareness as he glanced down. His brow furrowed deeper as he tugged again, to no avail. The hem of the shirt barely reached his navel, leaving his stomach—firm and solid, marked with faint scars and the unmistakable trail of dark hair—completely exposed.

“Bloody hell…” he muttered, scratching idly at his side as he reached for the sweater Nik had left with it. Surely that would sort things out. But no—the sweater, though soft and comfortable, was equally cropped, and it left just as much skin on show. Price stared down at himself, incredulous. He didn’t have chiselled abs, but he was built—a broad chest, strong arms, and a stomach that spoke of years of proper meals and hard-earned strength. The outfit, however, seemed determined to make him look like some kind of showpiece.

He tugged experimentally at the sweater, as though sheer force of will might make it longer. When that failed, he turned to the mirror. And that’s when he noticed the shorts.

The shorts. Price blinked at his reflection, dumbfounded. The shorts were snug, hugging his thighs—thick, hairy, and as solid as the rest of him—while cutting so high they left nothing to the imagination. He looked… different. Not bad, necessarily, but certainly not what he’d expected to see when he got dressed.

He rubbed a hand over his jaw, his lips twitching as a sarcastic comment began to form. But before he could properly articulate his thoughts, the soft creak of the floorboards outside the bedroom broke his train of thought.

The door opened, and Nik stepped inside, already dressed in joggers and a well-fitted T-shirt. His hair was slightly mussed, his expression relaxed, but the sharpness in his eyes betrayed his ever-present alertness. His gaze landed on Price almost instantly.

Nik froze.

“Well,” he started, his voice full of easy humour, “what a sight to wake up to.” He smirked, stepping further into the room, his tone warm but laced with his usual teasing edge. “Did not know you would be modelling for me this morning, Captain.”

Price didn’t look over his shoulder, still too busy fiddling with the sweater. “Nik,” he said flatly, his voice heavy with exasperation. “Care to explain why I’m dressed like this?” He gestured vaguely to himself, the motion half-shielding his stomach. “And don’t tell me this is gym kit, because I know bloody well it isn’t.”

“It is gym clothes,” Nik countered, his smirk widening. “Just… minimalist.”

“Minimalist?” Price echoed, finally turning to glare at him through the mirror. “Minimalist, my arse. I feel like you bought this more for yourself than for me.”

Nik chuckled, stepping closer, his eyes sweeping over Price. “Maybe,” he said, dragging the word out with mock consideration. “But can you blame me? Look at you.”

Price huffed, muttering something about needing a proper kit as he dropped his arms with a resigned shake of his head. The movement was casual, almost careless, but it left his midsection entirely exposed. Solid muscle, tan skin, and the faintest curve of softness—all framed perfectly by the absurdly short sweater and shorts.

That was when it hit Nik.

The teasing comment on his tongue faltered, replaced by silence as his gaze lingered, drawn to every detail. The scars scattered across Price’s skin, the way his shoulders filled out the snug fabric, the trail of dark hair disappearing beneath the waistband of those shorts. It wasn’t funny anymore—not even a little. Price, with his perpetually gruff exterior and quiet strength, looked… stunning.

Nik blinked, his lips parting as though to say something, but no words came.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Price asked, finally turning to face him fully. His tone was dry, but there was a faint smirk tugging at his lips, betraying his usual stern demeanour.

Nik blinked, as though snapping out of his trance. His mouth opened slightly, then closed again, the teasing remark he'd prepared slipping away as he caught another full look at Price in the morning light. The cropped sweater framed him in a way that wasn’t just flattering—it was outright distracting. Nik’s eyes lingered on the faint trail of hair that dipped below the waistband of those shorts, and then further down, where Price’s solid, muscular thighs stretched against the fabric.

He swallowed, trying to regain his composure. “I—” His voice faltered for a beat before he cleared his throat. “I knew it would not look bad,” he managed, though his voice was quieter now, laced with a growing tension. “But… I did not expect it to look this good.”

Price cocked an eyebrow, his smirk growing slightly. “Didn’t know you had such a thing for crop tops, Nik.”

Nik didn’t reply immediately, his gaze flickering up to meet Price’s eyes. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at him now, a rare moment of Nik’s usually cool exterior faltering. The teasing grin he so often wore softened, replaced by something more vulnerable, almost reverent.

“Not the top,” Nik said, words clipped and stepping closer, his hands finding Price’s sides almost instinctively. His fingers brushed over the exposed skin there, the faint calluses catching against the warmth of Price’s skin. “But you.”

Price blinked, thrown off guard by the sincerity in Nik’s tone. His smirk wavered, and for a moment, he wasn’t the seasoned captain, wasn’t the gruff, no-nonsense man who could command a room with a single glance. He was just John, standing barefoot in their bedroom, feeling inexplicably flustered under Nik’s gaze.

Nik’s hands lingered at his sides, his thumbs brushing against the edge of the sweater as though testing how much further he could push. “You are fucking breath-taking, you know that?” he said softly, his accent thickening in a way that always made Price’s stomach twist.

Price scoffed lightly, shaking his head as if to dismiss the comment, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him. “That right?” he muttered, his voice quieter now.

Nik grinned, though there was something softer behind it this time. “Mhm” he replied, his hands sliding lower, fingers curling lightly around Price’s hips. “We might have to change the plan, Captain.”

“Yeah?” Price asked, his voice edged with humour, though there was a faint hitch in his breath as Nik’s hands tightened slightly.

“Oh, absolutely,” Nik murmured, his grin turning wicked as he leaned in closer. His breath was warm against Price’s ear as he added, “We could skip the gym. Do some… private training instead,” he paused thinking, “Cardio! yes, cardio, plenty of it, too.”

Price barely had time to process the words before Nik bent slightly, his arms wrapping securely around Price’s thighs. The motion was smooth, effortless, and before Price could protest, Nik straightened, lifting him clean off the ground.

“Nik!” Price barked, his voice sharp with alarm, though his hands instinctively gripped Nik’s shoulders for balance. His face burned now, the rare flush spreading from his neck to his ears. “Put me down, you daft—”

“No chance, lyubov moya,” Nik interrupted, his laughter rich and unrestrained. “You are far too dangerous to let out of our flat dressed like that.”

Price huffed, trying—and failing—to school his expression back to something stern. “Dangerous? Bloody ridiculous, more like.”

Nik carried him across the room as though he weighed nothing, his grin only growing. “Ridiculous? Maybe,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “But you are still mine.”

He reached the bed and, with a practiced ease, dropped Price onto the mattress. The captain let out a startled noise as he bounced slightly, propping himself up on his elbows to glare up at Nik. But whatever sarcastic retort Price had been about to deliver died the moment Nik leaned over him, bracing one arm on the bed beside him.

Nik’s free hand trailed down Price’s side, his touch slow and deliberate, as though savouring every inch. “Stay here,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “You are not going anywhere, John.”

Price’s breath caught, his heart thudding in his chest as Nik dipped lower, his lips brushing against the edge of the sweater. The teasing grin on Nik’s face softened, replaced by something deeper, hungrier, as his hands trailed further down.

Their morning gym plans were forgotten entirely.

[amikaelsonstory]

Not the end, but a new beginning - I

Chapter one.

“All happy families resemble one another, each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way” Lev Tostoy, Anna Karenina

As the brothers stood up, eyes full of tears, racing hearts with fear and gratitude, a breathless, loud scream cut the silent moment

- "DAD DON'T!! WE FOUND A WAY, STOP!"

Hope was running fast followed by Freya, hugged Klaus back, almost following on her knees, gasping with tears running down her face.

Klaus and Elijah turned fast, lowering their pieces of white oak daggers as they approached.

- " What do you mean, darling? I need to go, please understand"   Klaus whispered, lifting Hope face up, whipping tears from his daughter's face.

 Elijah remained speechless, his lips slightly parted in surprise, as Freya reached out and hugged him tightly, making him close his eyes and take a deep breath in some sort of relief.

- It's true brother, I found a way, the Old Gods... they finally gave me an answer. I will explain everything, but please, let's go home"

As they found their way into the compound, Rebekah, Marcel and Kol stood apprehensively up from their seats, relieved to see the girls were able to reach them on time to avoid the tragedy. 

- It seems it's not gonna be tonight you're gonna get rid of the almighty Klaus Mikaelson!  Klaus orotund, opening his arms with his crooked smile, trying to mask his remaining fears and doubts.

- Nik! Rebekah cheered running to hug her brother tightly, while Marcel and Kol tapped his shoulders, welcoming him and Elijah back.

- Let me show you what I found out.  - Freya commanded, guiding the family to follow her to the study room. 

The room was dark, as they entered and approach the table Freya showed them. It had some runes symbols written in blood on a old manuscript, a dead white bird, some herbs and a pendulum spinning fast over a bowl on fire. The air around was thick, heavy, with a slight purple mist around them.  

- Since this whole thing started I've been searching for a way to overcome the hollow power, it had to have another way, she is not the biggest power in the universe. Freya pleaded. "So I had no choice but to reach the Old Gods, from motherland, where our family comes from"

- Norway? - Elijah whispered, lifting his eyes from the runes to meet Freya's, who slowly nodded. She closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath before opening them again.

- Odin heard my prayer but the spell hasn't been fully revealed yet. For now I can suppress the hollow effects in Klaus, but until the full moon we must find The Undead whose sunlight cannot harm. 

- A vampire that doesn't burn in the sun? With no magic, no ring? Kol bawled in disbelief, crossing his arms against his chest - That should be easy - he taunted ironically.

- It doesn't matter, we will find it - Rebekah assured, touching Marcel's shoulder - Can you ask your people to track it and bring it to us?

I'm on it, I'm gonna make some calls and my guys will bring it to us. - Marcel stated, picking up his phone and walking out of the room - Dead or alive, or it doesn't matter?

- ALIVE - Freya's voice sounded louder than she expected - Please, we still don't know what we will need to do next, for now, you can go rest. Klaus you stay, I need to make the ritual to hold the hollow until the next full moon.

___________________________________________________________

As the days passed, the Mikaleson's basically turned the whole vampire world upside down, reaching all the possible sources in order to find this so-called "sunlight proof vampire", but they were running out of time and all they had was a whole bunch of nothing. 

Okay, not nothing. They knew there was a woman, but nothing sounded like the real deal, more like gossip if much.

Elijah, Klaus and Hope were at the study room, digging deep into all they could find.

- Alright, I managed to filter all we have, names, places, stories and got into 3 possible names. - Hope shared with them, without taking her eyes out of her laptop screen. - Natalya Fyodorova, a ballerina from Bolshoi ballet, last seen circa 1970, in Moscow. Sister Ionescu, the oldest register, seen in Romania in the beginning of 20th century and - she folded her index fingers quoting- the most "recently" - we got Minna Murray, 2007, UK. No job, no city info, just a name.

Klaus paced side by side in the room, placing his hands on his hips, looking down as he was hearing his daughter.

- Most likely it's the same person - he paused - But how do we find this bloody woman? It's not possible that nobody knows her whereabouts!!  - Klaus exploded while pouring himself a glass of bourbon 

Elijah placed his papers down on the desk, paying attention to the names Hope said. His eyes wandered away, frowning his eyebrows.  - Niklaus... weren't we in Moscow in 72?

But before Klaus could answer, Freya stormed into the room.

 - We have visitors, they found something.

[bioniclemanga]

[ Chapter 8 - Page 63 ]

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I can hear the masses saying “holy crap, Nik. Wtf.” And my response is, “Oh, it’s gonna get worse.”

Side note: figuring out how to get the mask to transition on and off has been an absolute nightmare. I had many different ideas filter through, and I returned to the glitching effect, given that the shadow Toa are usually presented with the glitch effect, and Lewa’s overall effect has been a combination of glitching and gloopy blobs.

A special shoutout to those in the server I am a part of (Sue, KC, GalaxyKoi, InnerRayg, AZ, blackernel) for helping me figure out the effects, colors, paneling, and everything else with these next few pages!!