#and understanding and finally a fierce need to protect

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Catch Me If You Can | Chapter 16 Chapter 16 | a god's ultimatum⌟

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Apollo's golden aura flared, his eyes narrowing into slits as his fury reignited. His voice cut through the tense silence, dripping with disdain. "How dare you, you lowly, disgusting—"

"—I wouldn't finish that statement if I were you." Hermes stepped forward sharply, his wings flaring with a sudden burst of energy as his voice cut through Apollo's tirade like a blade.

Apollo's scowl deepened, his radiant face twisting into something darker as he turned his fiery gaze onto his brother. "You're siding with a mortal over your own blood?"

The word "mortal" was spat with such venom that it made your stomach churn. You flinched, your shoulders curling inward as your gaze dropped to the ground. You could feel his judgment, the sheer disgust in his words as if it were a physical force.

Hermes, however, didn't flinch. If anything, the slight flare of his nostrils and the subtle clenching of his jaw were the only indicators of the storm building beneath his calm exterior. His staff twitched faintly in his hand, and his wings spread wider, creating a barrier between you and Apollo. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, dangerous, and filled with a barely restrained fury.

"I said," he growled, his golden eyes locking onto Apollo's with unrelenting intensity, "watch your mouth."

Apollo's jaw tightened, his fingers flexing as if itching to release his power, but Hermes didn't back down. His stance was firm, unyielding, and for a moment, it felt like the very world held its breath.

You risked a glance up, your eyes darting between the two gods. Hermes' expression was fierce, but there was something else in his eyes—a flicker of protectiveness that made your heart ache.

Apollo sneered, his lips curling into a bitter smile. "And what will you do, brother? Protect her? Defend her honor like some mortal knight in a fairytale? Don't be ridiculous. She's beneath us. Beneath you."

The words stung, sharp and merciless, but before you could shrink any further into yourself, Hermes stepped forward, closing the space between them. His voice was quieter now, but no less fierce. "Say whatever you want about me, Apollo. Call me a liar, a thief, a failure—I don't care. But you don't get to talk about her like that."

Apollo's aura pulsed, golden light crackling around him as if the very air trembled in response to his anger. For a moment, it seemed like he might unleash his fury, but Hermes didn't waver. His wings shifted slightly, a subtle but deliberate reminder of his readiness to act.

Apollo's face went blank, his fiery aura dimming for a heartbeat before a sharp scoff escaped his lips. He shook his head, the golden curls catching the light like a crown as his eyes bore into Hermes with cold, calculated fury. "Reckless," he bit out, his voice low but laced with a searing edge. "Disloyal. Childish. That's what you've always been. Always choosing chaos, always chasing your own amusement, no matter the cost—no matter who you betray."

Hermes tilted his head, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though his eyes gleamed with something sharper. "Oh, please," he said, his tone as light as ever but undercut by a razor edge. "I'd hardly call keeping you in check betrayal, Apollo. Someone has to remind you that the world doesn't revolve around your golden glow."

Apollo's aura flared again, a wave of heat rolling off him that made the ground crackle beneath his feet. "This isn't about me, Hermes," he snapped. "It's about loyalty. Family. But you wouldn't understand that, would you? You're too busy stirring the pot, too blinded by your own selfishness to see the damage you cause."

Hermes' smirk widened, but it was anything but amused. "Family? Is that what we're calling your need to control everything and everyone around you?" His wings flared out again, golden light reflecting off the edges like blades. "Let's be honest, brother—you're not mad about the theft. You're mad because someone dared to defy you." His tone turned mocking, his grin razor-sharp. "Big bad Apollo, perfect golden boy, thrown off his pedestal by a mortal. Must sting."

Apollo's scowl deepened, his gaze flickering to you for a brief moment, disdain dripping from every movement. "Mortal arrogance," he hissed. "And you encourage it."

"No, what I encourage is seeing through the nonsense you call pride. You hold onto that golden throne so tightly, Apollo; it's no wonder you can't see beyond it."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unrelenting. You could feel the tension radiating between them, the weight of centuries of rivalry, grudges, and misunderstandings pressing down on the grove like a storm.

For the first time, you saw the cracks in their personas—Apollo's frustration wasn't just about the theft, and Hermes' defiance wasn't just a game. It was something deeper, something tangled in their history as brothers, as gods, as beings constantly at odds.

You felt caught between them, the intensity of their conflict washing over you. Apollo's anger was sharp and cutting, but there was pain beneath it—a wound of being disregarded, disrespected.

Hermes' mockery was biting, but his words carried a truth that made you wonder if his defiance was as selfish as Apollo claimed.

Maybe it wasn't about rebellion for the sake of it. Maybe it was about something more—a refusal to bend to expectations, to be anything but what he chose to be.

Your chest tightened as you realized you could see both sides.

Apollo, desperate to maintain the balance and respect his divine role demanded, and Hermes, unwilling to be shackled by anyone's rules, even the gods'.

It wasn't black and white. It was complicated, messy—like everything else in your life had suddenly become.

The two gods stared each other down, the grove crackling with their unspoken history. And for a moment, you felt like you were intruding on something far greater than yourself.

You didn't belong here—this was their realm, their feud. You were just a mortal who had made a mistake. A grave one, perhaps, but still.

Almost as if he could read your thoughts, Apollo's piercing gaze turned on you; it felt as though the sun itself had turned its full heat on you, merciless and unyielding. "And you," he snarled, his voice low and venomous, each word striking like a lash. "What made you think you could steal from me? A god? A mortal—a miscreant, a ryparós mys."

Your stomach dropped, the insult twisting in your chest. But it wasn't just the word; it was the tone, the sheer contempt in his voice, as though you were something to be scraped off the bottom of his boot.

The air around you seemed to grow hotter, heavier, under his gaze, and your instinct was to cower, to shrink away from the full weight of his fury.

But something inside you snapped.

Maybe it was exhaustion, the days of running, the endless fear and uncertainty.

Maybe it was anger, bubbling up from a lifetime of scraping by, of being overlooked and dismissed.

Or maybe it was that damn word—filthy rat.

Whatever it was, you felt it surge through you, cutting through the fear like a blade, and before you could stop yourself, the words burst out, sharp and bitter. "Why did I steal from you?" You took a shaky breath, then continued, your voice rising despite yourself. "You're a god. You have everything—gold, offerings, temples filled with treasures mortals could only dream of. Mortals like me? We have nothing. Nothing! Maybe I just got tired of gods taking and taking while we're left to suffer."

Apollo's glow seemed to intensify, the golden aura around him flaring with his anger. His lips parted, no doubt to deliver another scathing retort, but you weren't finished. The words kept tumbling out, raw and unfiltered, like a wound finally being lanced.

"As a child, I prayed to you... to all of you," you said, your voice cracking slightly. "I prayed every night, hoping—begging—for help. For a sign. For anything. But you didn't answer. None of you did. So don't you dare look down on me for trying to survive the only way I know how."

Your words hung in the air—bold and reckless, but true. Memories flashed through your mind: nights spent praying in vain as a child, asking for relief that never came. Watching your village struggle while altars to the gods overflowed with riches.

The simmering anger you had buried for so long finally spilled out.

Apollo's eyes burned into yours, his expression unreadable. There was fury there—raw and unyielding—but beneath it, something flickered. Doubt? Guilt? It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared, buried beneath his divine arrogance, but you had seen it.

The brief crack in his perfect facade gave you the smallest sliver of hope that your words had landed somewhere beneath the golden armor.

"How dare you," he said at last, his voice like thunder. Yet it lacked the sharpness from before. "You speak as though you understand the weight of the heavens. You speak of suffering as if it is unique to mortals. You know nothing."

But there was no conviction in his words. Not entirely. You could feel it—your anger, your desperation, had struck a nerve, however small.

Hermes, who had been unusually silent until now, stepped forward, positioning himself between you and Apollo. His golden eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment, and there was something almost like pride in the small smirk tugging at his lips.

He turned his attention back to Apollo, his usual nonchalance laced with something sharper, something protective. "Well, big brother," he drawled, his voice smooth but cutting, "looks like the little thief's got more bite than you thought."

Apollo's blazing eyes narrowed, the golden glow around him intensifying. His lips curled, but before he could speak, Hermes raised a hand, the motion calm but firm, his smirk hardening into something closer to a challenge. "She's right, you know," Hermes said, his tone lighter than the words he spoke. "We gods do take more than we give. That's not news to anyone. You're just mad because, like I said before, this time, you lost."

Your heart thundered in your chest, your eyes darting between the brothers. This wasn't a game anymore—not to Hermes. You realized, with a jolt, that he wasn't just playing his usual tricks. He was genuinely standing by you, his wings spread wide as though to shield you from Apollo's wrath, his words chosen not just to taunt but to protect.

Apollo's voice, when it came, was low and cold, each word dripping with barely restrained fury. "I thought you were joking before, but it seems you truly would side with a mortal over your own blood and kin."

Hermes tilted his head, his smirk sharpening into something almost wolfish. "Don't pretend this is about blood, Apollo. You're angry because she successfully stole from you and that burns, doesn't it? That your perfect little image, your untouchable pride, could be so easily bruised."

For a moment, you thought he might attack again, his fists clenching at his sides, the glow around him pulsing like a second sun. But instead, his expression shifted, his anger cooling into something far more dangerous. He stepped back slightly, the golden light around him dimming but sharpening, focused now like a blade rather than a wildfire.

You could see the way Apollo's expression shifted, the barest crack in his unshakable façade. His aura flared briefly, and for a moment, you thought he might retaliate. But instead, his expression shifted, his anger cooling into something far more dangerous. The golden glow around him dimmed for a heartbeat, only to surge back, sharper and more focused.

"Very well, brother," he said, his voice dropped and measured, yet carrying an undercurrent of simmering fury. "It's clear you care for the mortal, so I won't make it an issue. But let me make one thing abundantly clear. This isn't about pride, Hermes. I never cared for that. It's about justice. And justice demands restitution."

You flinched as his golden eyes bore into yours, the weight of his presence pressing down on you like a physical force. "You will return what you stole, thief," Apollo continued, his tone leaving no room for argument. "You will return it to the very shrine from which it was taken. Do this, and you may face my judgment with some semblance of mercy. But should you choose otherwise..." His form pulsed once, blindingly bright. "You will suffer the full force of my wrath."

His words were final, delivered with the chilling authority of a god who had no reason to doubt their inevitability. Your heart sank, the enormity of his ultimatum crashing down on you.

Apollo straightened, his features composed into a mask of divine detachment. "I'm not here to deal with you in person, so I trust you will follow instructions," he said, and your breath caught as the realization struck.

This wasn't even Apollo in the flesh—only an echo of his presence, powerful enough to terrify you nonetheless.

"Typical," Hermes muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. "Of course, the golden boy shows off. You're not even here."

Apollo's lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "Did you think I'd waste my time descending in full form for this? No, brother. I have more important matters to attend to."

As if to emphasize his point, his glowing form began to waver, the edges of his figure flickering like sunlight on water. "But do not mistake my absence for leniency," Apollo said, his voice resonating with divine power even as his form began to dissolve. "You have one chance, mortal. Return the Sunstone and face what is due, or your next encounter with me will be far less merciful."

And with that, the glow consumed him entirely, and his form disintegrated into a burst of golden light like scattered embers, leaving behind only the weight of his words and the suffocating tension in the air.

The grove fell into a heavy silence, the echoes of his voice lingering like the fading notes of a haunting melody.

After the apparition of Apollo disintegrated, the sanctuary felt hollow, its magic shattered.

The golden glow that once suffused the grove had faded, leaving behind a desolate wreckage.

The ancient trees, once unyielding sentinels, leaned precariously, their branches stripped of leaves.

The air was heavy, not with divine power, but with a tangible silence, the kind that pressed against your chest like an unwelcome weight.

You and Hermes stood amidst the ruin, the tension between you thicker than the lingering smoke that curled from scorched patches of earth.

Neither of you spoke for what felt like an eternity.

The staff rested beside you, its polished surface gleaming faintly in the pale light filtering through the damaged canopy. Your fingers itched to hold it again, as though it might ground you, but instead, you clenched your hands into fists, your knuckles white.

You knees buckled, your hands trembling as your mind raced, torn between fear, defiance, and the sinking realization that your time was running out.

Hermes finally broke the silence, his voice devoid of its usual mischief. "I can't protect you from him forever, you know." His wings shifted slightly, folding closer to his back as though even they felt the weight of the moment. "Apollo... he doesn't let go. Not when it comes to something like this."

You didn't look at him. Your gaze was fixed on a small, cracked pool of water that used to mirror the stars. Now, it reflected nothing but emptiness. "And why is it so important to him?" you asked, your voice flat, though you could feel the undercurrent of anger bubbling beneath the surface. "It's just a stone."

Hermes' lips twitched—not into a smirk, but something softer, almost sorrowful. He leaned back against a fallen trunk, the lines of his face shadowed by the broken remnants of the grove. "It's not just a stone," he said quietly. "It belonged to someone... someone Apollo cared about. Someone he lost. As gods, time is meanigless, so it's common for us to forget the small mortals we've come to hold dear."

The words hung in the air, and your breath caught. You turned to look at him then, searching his face for any sign of deceit. But Hermes didn't meet your gaze; his golden eyes were fixed on the distance, his expression uncharacteristically serious. "He keeps it as a reminder," Hermes continued. "So he doesn't forget... And you took it."

Your chest tightened at the implication but it was quickly drowned by a wave of frustration, "You're telling me this now?" you snapped,your voice cracking with anger. "After everything? After all the running and fighting and nearly dying—now you decide to tell me the truth?"

Hermes finally turned to face you, his usual smirk completely absent. "Would it have changed anything?" he asked, his voice soft but steady. "If I'd told you from the start, would you have handed it back? Or would you have run anyway?"

You opened your mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead, you glared at him, the betrayal twisting in your chest. "So this was never about helping me," you said bitterly. "You were just stalling until I gave up."

For a moment, Hermes didn't respond. He watched you, his golden gaze unreadable; the playful smirk you'd come to associate with him was gone, replaced by something quieter, almost pained. "I never said I could save you," he said quietly. "I said I'd help you. And I have."

His words hit harder than you expected, knocking the air from your lungs. You looked away, your jaw clenched, because deep down, you knew he was right.

Despite your anger, despite the chaos he often brought, Hermes had been there—risking his life, facing Apollo, shielding you in ways no one else would have.

A heavy silence fell between you, broken only by the faint rustling of leaves and the distant chirp of a bird brave enough to return to the ruined grove.

You couldn't bring yourself to look at him, but you felt the weight of his gaze, the unspoken understanding that lingered in the air.

When you finally spoke, your voice was quieter, steadier. "What do I do now?"

Hermes leaned back again, his wings shifting slightly as he exhaled. "You know what you have to do," he said, his tone softer than before. "You have to return it. It's the only way this ends."

The words settled heavily in your chest. You stared at the cracked earth beneath your feet, the anger ebbing away, replaced by a profound, aching sadness.

Returning the Sunstone meant facing Apollo's wrath head-on.

It meant giving up the one thing you'd risked everything to take.

And as you sat there, the weight of everything pressing down on you, you realized there was no other choice. You were so lost in thought, staring blankly at the cracked earth beneath your feet, that you didn't notice Hermes move until his shadow fell over you.

Startled, your gaze snapped up to find him kneeling in front of you, wings partially unfurled. The soft glow of his feathers caught the dim light filtering through the ruins, casting delicate patterns across the ground.

He wasn't smirking or teasing, and for once, there was no trace of amusement in his golden eyes. Instead, he looked... tired. Tired and sad in a way you hadn't seen before. His expression was calm, almost serious, as he reached out, his hand brushing against yours. The touch was light, fleeting, but it lingered just enough to ground you in the moment.

"You've got more fight in you than most mortals I've ever met." His thumb grazed the back of your hand before he pulled away, resting his palms on his knees. "But even you can't outrun a god forever."

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening as his words settled over you. You held his gaze for a moment, searching for something, anything, that might make this easier to face. But the way he looked at you, steady and unwavering, left no room for doubt.

Finally, you broke his gaze, your eyes falling to the ruined sanctuary around you. The golden glow that had once filled the grove was long gone, replaced by shadows and the faint, bitter scent of ash.

Your fingers curled into fists, your nails digging into your palms as you drew in a shaky breath.

"Fine," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll return it." You felt your chest tighten as you spoke, the enormity of the decision threatening to crush you. "But... I'll do it my way. If this is the end, I'm not crawling back like some... some... filthy rat."

Hermes tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. For a brief moment, something like pride flickered in his eyes. Then, he leaned back slightly, his wings folding in closer as he exhaled. "Fair enough," he said, a small, almost tired smile tugging at his lips. "But let me make one thing clear—I'm not letting you face Apollo alone."

The firmness in his tone caught you off guard. You looked back at him, your brow furrowing as a dozen questions swirled in your mind. "Why?" you asked quietly, the word slipping out before you could stop it. "Why are you still helping me?"

Hermes didn't answer right away. Instead, he straightened, resting one arm on his knee as he tilted his head back to gaze at the remnants of the sanctuary above. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, almost reflective. "Because you're worth helping," he said simply, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Your breath hitched at his words, your heart giving a strange, unsteady flutter. You quickly looked away, your fingers brushing over the Sunstone still hidden beneath your shirt. The warmth of it pressed against your skin like a reminder of everything you'd done, everything that had led to this moment.

"I don't need a savior," you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

"No," Hermes replied, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "But everyone could use an ally."

You glanced at him again, and for the first time, you saw not just the trickster, the smooth-talking god who always seemed one step ahead, but someone who genuinely meant what he said.

It didn't make the fear go away, but it eased the tightness in your chest, if only a little.

"Alright," you said finally, your voice steadier now. "Let's finish this."

Hermes stood then, brushing off his knees as he extended a hand to you. His smirk returned, softer than before, but still undeniably him. "Let's," he said, his golden eyes gleaming with something that felt a lot like hope.

And as his hand closed around yours, pulling you to your feet, you realized that for the first time in a long while, you weren't facing the storm alone.

"Hey Hermes... I just have to return the stone, right?"

"Yes, little thief, just the stone."

A/N: ahhh, it's almost over, i don't want this too end 😭😭that little hand-holding moment at the end? be still my heart. 😭 Hermes out here being more emotionally available than most humans. I mean, "You're worth helping"? Sir, I am unwell with projecting my fantasies onto a book character 😩😔

[wri0thesley]

obsessed with the oc i made that is just my self-insert but cooler and braver and more talented [puts them through the horrors]

[washeduphazbin]

Hi, I would like to ask for a smut from Adam x fem Reader, his dear wife is going to pay him a visit at his work and in the end they almost get paid for lute

New Eve (Adam x Fem! Wife! Reader)

-SMUT AHEAD MINORS DNI-

Other warnings: Adam Being Adam

I hope I wrote this ask and understood it correctly! Adam is my guilty pleasure. I love men who are dumb as rocks and who are going to be absolutely leashed by even stronger women.

REQUESTS OPEN

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There's a saying that all good things come in threes, Lilith, Eve, and you. Adam's final wife, who physically couldn't be swayed by Lucifer because Adam had met you in Heaven. When you passed through the pearly gates, you were greeted by none other than the first human himself. You were in awe for about two seconds until you quickly gathered the first man was a complete and utter dickhead. He seemed to falter when you walked past him to greet an angel named Lute, Adam's second in command. She tensed a little as you introduced yourself, ignoring Adam's protests that dubbed you a Queen Mega Bitch.

All this to say, it took about three months before Lute caught Adam sticking his tongue down your throat with you latched onto him like a koala. You made a distressed sound at being caught while listening to Adam laugh above you. You distinctly heard him call your mouth as good as a vagina while pressing a kiss to your hairline. "Adam!" You hissed, pulling on the horns of his mask as he let out a defiant sound, "Inappropriate."

"Ugh yeah, that's kind of my thing, sugar tits."

"You need to not make it your thing, or this thing doesn't happen." You drew your line in the metaphorical sand before marching out of the room, faintly hearing Lute argue about Adam's behavior behind you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Two years later, you were Adam's new 'Eve' in heaven with two golden rings to prove the love that formed between the two of you...somehow. Did the both of you fight constantly? Yes. Did you want to wring his neck every time he opened the gaping hole he called a mouth? Also Yes. But did you love him...unfortunately. Even though he had a laundry list of bad habits, a vulgar mouth, and gross hobbies, he had his moments. He was protective, fiercely so, and despite his fuck boy personality, he only had his sights set on you. Lute often asked you what you saw in Adam, and you'd reluctantly sigh and give a tired grin, "He makes me laugh. Plus, with proper motivation, he's putty in my hand." Lute made a sound of understanding, nodding her head,

"Ah, yes. Use your feminine wiles to control those weaker than you, even if they may be physically stronger. We must use what we are given as women. Well, you must. I'm very strong without using that to my advantage."

"Yes, exactly," You snickered as Lute stopped outside Adam's office. "Which is exactly why Sera put me in charge of convincing Adam to meet with The Morningstar's daughter." You groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose, "I'll see you back here later, then?"

"Yes, ma'am." Lute bowed, "I wish you luck...you'll need it. He's in one of his moods." before taking off into the sky and down the hall. You reached up with a stretch of your arms, fluffing up your wings to look extra pretty before knocking on Adam's door,

"Adam." You hummed, knocking on the grand marble door once before opening it. You leaned against the entranceway, wings brushing against the floor, as his head shot up.

"Sugartits!"

"Not my name!" You dodged Adam's hug with a flurry of your wings; he grinned, shoving the door closed with his hip. "Adam," you said in warning as he used his angelic magic to fly towards you and trap you within his arms.

"and what would you prefer I call you? My Bitch? Wifey?" He mused, peppering sloppy kisses against your cheek and down your neck. "We could go with Queen or Goddess, preferably." You shot back, dragging Adam down to sit in his chair; you hummed gently, removing his mask from his face. He leaned back, kicking his legs up on the desk as you slid down into his chest, straddling his hips. You hummed, running your fingers through his brown hair, and he melted into your touch, "My name works, too."

"I guess we can settle on Queen. Does that make me your King?" Adam preened as you scratched under his chin,

"Without a doubt...but we must talk about the Young Morningstar."

"Who?" He made a faux confused face which you raised an eyebrow back at in response, "Ugh, Lucifer's cunt daughter. What about her?"

"She's been begging for a meeting. I suggest you meet with her." Your lips began to trail down his neck, nipping at his skin as his body flushed.

"But that's so much work, sugar." He groaned, running his clawed hands through your hair, "Can't I just say fuck off back to hell we're gonna exterminate all of you regardless."

"Sera wants you to at least meet with her one time; she's giving you a lot of trust to handle this on your own."

"And if I do what you ask, what'll you give me?" He mused, eyes sparkling. You huffed, hitting him with the back of your wing, and he laughed, "Come on, you gotta sweeten the deal for me, mama."

"You're such a bastard." You huffed, moving to pull your hair out of your face. He moved his legs to the ground, and you could slide between his knees. "Robe off unless you want dirty," you commanded as Adam fumbled out of it quickly.

"I love you~" He leaned back with a sly grin, hand reaching up to move your head closer to his lip. Your fingers spread across his thighs, and you huffed softly, looking up at him.

"I love you more. If I do this for you, you promise to meet with young Lady Morningstar?"

"You can't just fuck me because you love me?"

"Bite me." You sneered, but there wasn't any malice in your voice as he stood up, picking you up off the ground and pressing your back against his desk.

"Oh, it would be my pleasure. I can't say your robes will survive, though I might need to get you some new ones." Adam popped the buttons on your robe, allowing your body to be laid bare for his eyes. He watched your breathing hitch as his long claw trailed down your neck to your chest. "Fuck I love these puppies, you know that?" Adam grinned, grabbing fistfuls of your breasts, squeezing and kneading to his heart's content. Your husband was like an oversized golden retriever. When he sees something he likes, he obsesses over it like a man deranged. His favorite playthings of yours were your tits and ass. "Any meetings?"

"None. I'm yours for the rest of the day. You can mark me how you'd like; I'm yours, my husband. Well, until you meet with the Princess."

"Fuckkkkk yeah, baby, come 'ere." Adam dove between your breasts, and he felt you suck in air through your teeth. He began to bite and suck on the supple flesh of your chest; you keened, arching into his mouth, hands tangling in his brown hair. You could tell from the way his teeth would graze against your nipples and your flesh he was doing everything in his power to leave marks on the skin.

"Adam...ngh." You panted, feeling his hand move down from your breast to slide down your stomach and between your legs. "Shit," You squeaked, feeling him tease your clit with his thumb and forefinger with a dopey grin on his face.

"There's my favorite girl," He flicked your nub skillfully; for being a massive asshole, this prick sure knew where to find your clit. One finger slid between your folds, and you tossed your head against the cold marble desk. "Damn, only one finger has you acting up? I must not be treating you good enough," He purred as another finger entered you, stretching you out to be big enough for, 'the first ever man god created.' Adam watched with delight as your wings spread out and trembled, glowing with a soft golden glow. "That's it, you're being such a good girl for me. Are you ready?"

"Yes." You panted, "Adam, please."

"God, you beg so nicely, you little slut," His hand reached up to grip your throat, causing you to let out a desperate whine, hips bucking into his fingers. "Beg Harder," He demanded, moving your hand to palm him through his trousers, stiff and aching. "Look at how hard you make me. How desperate. I need you to worship your god."

"Yes, sir." You purred, "You're my God, Adam. I need you, I'd worship for your love, your touch, your dick." You dragged your hand up your chest, playing with the swell of your own breast, "Don't you want to make me happy, baby?"

"More than anything." Adam's eyes lit up in elation, "Stay with me. Don't go to Lucifer. You're mine." He snarled, hands around your throat, "Say it."

"I'm with you. Only you. Forever Adam." His entire body seemed to relax when you said that, pressing gentle kisses to your cheek and lips. "I love you, you annoying Dickweed."

"Love you more, Sugartits." He grinned cheekily before lowering himself to you with a hiss-like laugh. "Tight as ever, and that's why I love you,"

"If you keep talking nonsense while you're literally inside me, I'll cut off your dick,"

"Sounds kinky."

"Adam."

"Fine, Fine, you're so vanilla." He mused, albeit his tone was much softer, fonder than his earlier teasing. His hands grabbed under your knees and pressed you close with a snap of his hips. You both let out a moan, yours higher pitched and needier, bucking your hips, searching for more friction than he was currently providing. You always savored the way he was able to fill you up, he wasn't the longest but god was he thick filling you in all the right ways. Every time his hips snapped into you, you could feel just how deep he kissed your cervix. "Yeah, you like that?" He panted, "Like how deep I'm getting? From the way you're dripping, you're practically soaking through my table. Your vag is like a vice, babe, so tight for this big cock."

"Hm. Your words always know how to turn me o-ng-ff." You moaned out this end at a particularly sharp thrust of his hips. "Fuck you," You panted as he grinned down at you,

"Good news, wifey, that's exactly what we're doing-"

"Sir!" You let out a scream as Lute slammed the door of his office open, you climbed against Adam's body like an embarrassed Nun. He groaned, still inside you but having the decency to cover you with his wings.

"What do you need, Lute? I'm a little busy getting it on with my sexy ass wife." Adam complained, motioning to the top of your head, to which you made an embarrassed sound of mortification. "Can this be rescheduled or-"

"The Princess of Hell is here, Sir. She just showed up-"

"Are you for real telling me that the bitch Princess of Hell is seriously cucking me right now?!"

"...Yes."

"(Y/n) If I killed her for interrupting us, would you be pissed?"

"Beyond Adam."

"Fuck."

[unboundprompts]

Hii!! I came across your blog and immediately followed since I thought I might needed some help with my fanfics, and if there's one thing I'm bad at is describing fight scenes with like guns or magic, I've been struggling to write it and did some practices and didn't like how they came out, I'm hoping if you can do some fighting prompts, I hope this isn't too much!!

How to Write Fight Scenes

-> check out @howtofightwrite , they are an excellent resource for writing realistic fight scenes.

Set the Stakes Early

Why are they fighting? Establish the stakes of the fight clearly before it begins. If the reader understands what’s at risk, they’ll feel more invested. Stakes could be personal (revenge, survival), emotional (protecting a loved one), or strategic (achieving a mission).

Use the Environment

Incorporate the setting to add depth and realism. Are they fighting in a cramped alley, an open field, or a crowded city street? Describe how the environment affects movement, line of sight, or weapon use.

Vary Sentence Length for Pacing

Short sentences create tension and speed, while longer sentences allow for brief moments of reflection or description.

Incorporate Sensory Details

Highlight the senses beyond sight to ground the reader in the fight. Describe the smell of sweat, the metallic taste of blood, the weight of a sword, or the deafening roar of a gun.

Example: “Her ears rang as the blast reverberated around the alley. Smoke filled her nose, thick and choking, but she ignored it, tightening her grip on her weapon.”

Focus on Key Moments, Not Every Movement

Avoid blow-by-blow descriptions. Instead, highlight critical moves, reactions, and turning points to keep the scene flowing and avoid overwhelming the reader.

Show Physical Strain and Fatigue

Fights take a toll, especially over time. Show characters struggling to keep up, panting, sweating, or even stumbling as exhaustion sets in.

Example: “Her arms ached, each swing feeling heavier than the last. Her breathing came fast, ragged, but she couldn’t stop now.”

Capture Emotions and Mindset

Mix action with glimpses of your characters’ thoughts and emotions. This adds depth and reminds readers why the fight matters.

Describe Injuries Believably

Injuries impact the pace and intensity of a fight. Showing injuries realistically adds tension and makes victories feel hard-won.

Example: “She hissed as pain flared in her side where his blade had grazed her. Her vision blurred, but she forced herself to stand, one hand pressed to the wound.”

Build Up to a Climax

As the fight progresses, increase the stakes and bring tension to a peak. This could be a devastating blow, a risky last-minute decision, or a surprising twist.

Example: “He was backed against the wall, nowhere left to run. She raised her hand, a final spell crackling in her palm, the light casting a fierce glow in her eyes.”

Conclude with a Realistic Aftermath

Show the immediate aftermath of the fight: physical exhaustion, injuries, and the character’s emotional response. If they won, are they triumphant, relieved, or traumatized? If they lost, what happens next?

Fight Scene Prompts (with Magic)

-> feel free to edit and adjust pronouns as you see fit.

As they crept down the dim hallway, the flash of gunfire exploded from behind, forcing them to dive to the ground, bullets ricocheting off the walls around them. She barely had time to pull her weapon, pressing her back to the wall as footsteps drew closer. With a steadying breath, she waited for the right moment, then spun, firing off two rounds that hit their marks with surgical precision. The hall fell silent, the smell of gunpowder hanging in the air.

Electricity crackled around his hands as he stalked toward his opponent, energy building in his fingertips. She mirrored his stance, blue flames licking up her wrists as her gaze narrowed. He made the first move, sending a bolt of lightning in her direction, but she countered with a quick flick of her wrist, sending the flames forward like a living shield. Sparks flew as their magic collided, the force of it rattling the metal beams around them.

He ducked behind the dumpster as gunfire erupted, bullets pinging off the conjured barrier that surrounded him. He gritted his teeth, feeling the strain as his shield flickered with each impact. His opponent advanced, shouting taunts over the noise, but he focused, raising one hand to push the barrier outwards, turning it from defense to offense. With a growl, he flung the shield forward like a battering ram, the force slamming his opponent back against the alley wall.

They ascended into the night sky, wind whipping around them as spells flew between them like streaks of fire. He could barely keep up, dodging her relentless attacks as the city lights twinkled below. Finally, he unleashed a burst of energy from his hands, the force spiraling outward in a shockwave. She managed to deflect it just in time, retaliating with a beam of light that sliced through the night like a comet, forcing him into a desperate mid-air roll to avoid it.

[xyywrites]

Tips for writing flawed but lovable characters.

Flawed characters are the ones we root for, cry over, and remember long after the story ends. But creating a character who’s both imperfect and likable can feel like a tightrope walk. 

1. Flaws That Stem From Their Strengths

When a character’s greatest strength is also their Achilles' heel, it creates depth.

Strength: Fiercely loyal.

Flaw: Blind to betrayal or willing to go to dangerous extremes for loved ones.

“She’d burn the whole world down to save her sister—even if it killed her.”

2. Let Their Flaws Cause Problems

Flaws should have consequences—messy, believable ones.

Flaw: Impatience.

Result: They rush into action, ruining carefully laid plans.

“I thought I could handle it myself,” he muttered, staring at the smoking wreckage. “Guess not.”

3. Show Self-Awareness—or Lack Thereof

Characters who know they’re flawed (but struggle to change) are relatable. Characters who don’t realize their flaws can create dramatic tension.

A self-aware flaw: “I know I talk too much. It’s just… silence makes me feel like I’m disappearing.” A blind spot: “What do you mean I always have to be right? I’m just better at solving problems than most people!”

4. Give Them Redeeming Traits

A mix of good and bad keeps characters balanced.

Flaw: They’re manipulative.

Redeeming Trait: They use it to protect vulnerable people.

“Yes, I lied to get him to trust me. But he would’ve died otherwise.”

Readers are more forgiving of flaws when they see the bigger picture.

5. Let Them Grow—But Slowly

Instant redemption feels cheap. Characters should stumble, fail, and backslide before they change.

Early in the story: “I don’t need anyone. I’ve got this.”

Midpoint: “Okay, fine. Maybe I could use some help. But don’t get used to it.”

End: “Thank you. For everything.”

The gradual arc makes their growth feel earned.

6. Make Them Relatable, Not Perfect

Readers connect with characters who feel human—messy emotions, bad decisions, and all.

A bad decision: Skipping their best friend’s wedding because they’re jealous of their happiness.

A messy emotion: Feeling guilty afterward but doubling down to justify their actions.

A vulnerable moment: Finally apologizing, unsure if they’ll be forgiven.

7. Use Humor as a Balancing Act

Humor softens even the most prickly characters.

Flaw: Cynicism.

Humorous side: Making snarky, self-deprecating remarks that reveal their softer side.

“Love? No thanks. I’m allergic to heartbreak—and flowers.”

8. Avoid Overdoing the Flaws

Too many flaws can make a character feel unlikable or overburdened.

Instead of: A character who’s selfish, cruel, cowardly, and rude.

Try: A character who’s selfish but occasionally shows surprising generosity.

“Don’t tell anyone I helped you. I have a reputation to maintain.”

9. Let Them Be Vulnerable

Vulnerability adds layers and makes flaws understandable.

Flaw: They’re cold and distant.

Vulnerability: They’ve been hurt before and are terrified of getting close to anyone again.

“It’s easier this way. If I don’t care about you, then you can’t leave me.”

10. Make Their Flaws Integral to the Plot

When flaws directly impact the story, they feel purposeful rather than tacked on.

Flaw: Their arrogance alienates the people they need.

Plot Impact: When their plan fails, they’re left scrambling because no one will help them.

Flawed but lovable characters are the backbone of compelling stories. They remind us that imperfection is human—and that growth is possible.

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Between Fear and Trust

Summary - Grappling with the potential harm to her unborn child and the overwhelming anxiety of her protective husband, their love and trust are tested in a fragile dance of reassurance and emotional turmoil.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - Pregnancy anxiety, injury

Word count - 2032

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

Jacaerys Velaryon was a protective man, often to the point where his vigilance bordered on excessive. His concern, though rooted in love, sometimes felt stifling.

"I don't think you should be doing that," Jace said, his voice gentle but firm. I sighed softly, setting down the needlepoint in my hands before turning to face him.

"And what harm could possibly come from needlework?" I asked.

As he approached, I gestured to the fabric spread out on the table, the intricate design slowly coming to life.

"Look, it's Vermax," I said, pointing at the olive green and pale orange dragon that was beginning to take shape on the black tunic. 

The dragon's fierce eyes and outstretched wings were just starting to emerge from the fabric. I felt a swell of pride as I watched his eyes follow the delicate work.

Jace's expression softened into a tender smile as he looked at the half-finished dragon, and then back at me. The sight of my enthusiastic face, so absorbed in the craft, caused a wave of affection to surge through him. His gaze lingered on me, a mixture of admiration and concern.

"You're straining yourself," he said softly, his tone a blend of warmth and insistence. 

He stepped closer and gently helped me to my feet, his hands moving with a practised tenderness. His fingers brushed lightly against my swollen belly, and he began to rub it in soothing, circular motions. 

"Jace, you must cease this," I said with a gentle smile, placing my hand over his. His frown deepened, and I could see the concern etched into his features. "You're becoming overbearing."

He swallowed hard, his eyes searching mine. "I only want to keep you safe, to keep our child safe," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he cupped my face in his hand.

"I can't walk through these halls without feeling like I'm doing something wrong," I confessed, my voice tinged with frustration. "I care deeply for this babe too, but your constant worry... it frightens me."

Jace exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. When he pulled back, his frown remained, but there was a softness in his gaze.

"I don't mean to cause you distress," he said quietly, his voice laced with regret. I nodded, understanding his intentions even if they sometimes overwhelmed me.

After a moment of silence, I shifted slightly "I could use some tea though," I said, trying to lighten the mood. Before the words were fully out of my mouth, Jace was already moving to stand.

"I'll get it for you," he said quickly, his voice filled with determination but I reached out, placing a hand gently on his arm to stop him.

"No, Jace. I think I can manage to fetch some tea," I said, my tone gentle yet firm. 

His hesitation was palpable, a visible battle between his desire to protect me and the recognition that I needed this small act of independence. His eyes flickered with concern as he looked at me, and I could see how difficult it was for him to let go.

"It's just tea," I added softly, attempting to soothe his worries. 

Finally, with a reluctant nod, he stepped back. "Just be careful," he murmured, his voice almost pleading as he watched me.

I gave him a reassuring smile, appreciating his concession. "I will," I promised, as I turned and made my way across the room.

As I reached the door, I glanced back over my shoulder, my thoughts drifting to a happier distraction. 

"Perhaps we could visit Vermax when I return," I suggested, my voice carrying a hopeful lilt. "I miss him dearly."

I heard Jace's quiet laughter from behind me, a sound that was both tender and indulgent. 

I knew it would take a great deal of convincing for him to agree to let me see the dragon again, especially considering my condition. But the thought of visiting Vermax seemed to lighten the mood, if only slightly.

Jace's voice followed me, a mix of amusement and exasperation. "You'll have to charm me into it, I suppose" he called out with a fond chuckle. 

I smiled to myself as I stepped into the hallway, the soft glow of the sconces casting a warm light on the stone walls.

The castle's usual grandeur was eerily muted, the soft thud of my footsteps on the cold, echoing stone a lonely sound in the vast, empty hallway. Each step seemed to reverberate with an ominous, hollow note.

The familiar surroundings, normally comforting, now felt like a path strewn with obstacles as I descended the grand staircase. 

The slight twist in my ankle was so sudden, so unexpected, that I barely had time to react before I felt myself falling. One moment I was moving cautiously, and the next, I felt my body lurch uncontrollably.

I tumbled down the last few steps, the world around me spinning in a blur of stone and panic. 

The impact was jarring, pain radiating through my body as I came to a stop on the cold floor. My ears rang, a sharp, disorienting sound that drowned out everything else. 

A thin, red line of blood trickled from the gash on my forehead, warm and sticky against my skin but all I could think about was the deep, gnawing fear that gripped my heart.

Anxiety clawed at me as I lay there, my breaths coming in short, frantic gasps. My hands flew instinctively to my swollen stomach, pressing down as if to protect the life within me.

"Please, please be okay," I whispered, the words trembling on my lips as I tried to steady my racing thoughts. 

I needed to get up, to find Jace, to reassure myself that everything was alright but I couldn't move. I was paralyzed by fear, by the pain that coursed through me, and by the overwhelming dread of what might have just happened.

"My lady," a voice gasped, cutting through the haze of my fear. 

I blinked, trying to focus on the figure rushing toward me. The armour clanked loudly in the quiet hallway, the sound harsh against the silence.

"Ser Erryk," I mumbled weakly, recognizing the Queensguard as he knelt beside me, his expression stricken with concern.

"My lady, are you hurt?" he asked urgently, his eyes scanning me for injuries. His hands hovered, unsure of where to touch, or how to help. 

I could see the panic in his eyes, the same panic I felt bubbling inside me.

"My... my head," I whispered, feeling the warmth of the blood trickling down my forehead. "And my ankle... but the babe..." My voice broke, and tears welled up in my eyes. "Ser Erryk, please, I need to get to Jace."

Without hesitation, Ser Erryk scooped me into his arms, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. 

The movement sent a jolt of pain through my ankle, and I winced, clutching my belly protectively as he began carrying me back to my chambers.

The journey was a blur of worry and pain, every step echoing my pounding heartbeat. The closer we got to the room, the more I felt the weight of what had just happened pressing down on me. 

By the time we reached the door, I was trembling, my mind a whirlwind of fear and guilt.

As Ser Erryk pushed the door open with his shoulder, Jace shot up from his seat, his face instantly pale with alarm when he saw me cradled in Ser Erryk's arms, blood smeared on my forehead.

"What happened?" Jace's voice was sharp, edged with panic as he rushed to my side, his hands immediately reaching for me. He looked between Ser Erryk and me, desperation in his eyes. 

"What happened?" he repeated, his voice breaking.

I couldn't hold it in any longer. The tears I had been holding back burst forth, and I began to sob uncontrollably. 

"I'm so sorry, Jace," I cried, my voice trembling with guilt. "I fell—I shouldn't have gone—I'm so sorry." The words tumbled out in a frantic rush, my apologies intertwining with my sobs.

Ser Erryk quickly explained, his voice steady but grave. "She lost her footing on the stairs, my prince. It was an accident." 

His words were meant to soothe, but they did little to ease the storm of emotions that swirled within me.

Jace's eyes softened with anguish as he knelt beside the bed where Ser Erryk gently laid me down. He cupped my face with trembling hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears that streamed down my cheeks.

"Shh, it's alright," Jace murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. 

"You're alright, and that's all that matters." His fingers were gentle as they stroked my hair, trying to calm me, but I could see the fear in his eyes, the same fear that was consuming me.

"I was just so scared," I choked out, my hands still clutching my belly as if to reassure myself that our child was safe. "I should have listened to you... I'm so sorry."

"Don't apologize," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "None of this is your fault." He pressed a tender kiss to my forehead, his lips lingering against the cut there as if he could kiss away the pain.

But the guilt still gnawed at me. "I just wanted to walk... to feel normal," I whispered, the words heavy with regret. "But I've made everything worse."

Jace shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

"You didn't do anything wrong. I just want you and our child to be safe. That's all that matters to me." His voice cracked as he spoke, and he wrapped his arms around me, holding me close as if to shield me from everything that had happened.

I buried my face in his chest, my tears soaking into his tunic as he rocked me gently. His heartbeat was strong and steady against my ear, a constant reminder that I wasn't alone, that we were in this together.

"I'll take care of you," Jace whispered his voice a soothing balm to my frayed nerves.

"We'll call for a maester," he continued, his tone steady and reassuring. "Everything will be alright." His gaze shifted to Ser Erryk, who stood nearby, concern etched into his features. 

With a nod of understanding, Ser Erryk left the chamber to fulfil Jace's unspoken command, the door closing softly behind him.

But as the door clicked shut, a fresh wave of anxiety washed over me. I pulled away from Jace's embrace, my hands trembling as I looked up at him, fear gripping my heart. 

"Jace... what if I've done something?" The words came out in a shaky whisper, my voice barely holding together as I voiced the deepest of my fears.

His expression softened immediately, his eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and determination. He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the remnants of my tears as he searched my eyes for the pain that haunted me.

"My love," he said, his voice tender but firm, "you've done nothing wrong." His words were like a lifeline, pulling me back from the abyss of my worries. 

"We must trust that the gods have good intentions for us. We've been blessed with this child, and we will see them into this world together."

Despite his reassurances, doubt lingered in my heart. "But what if—"

"Shh," Jace interrupted gently, pressing a finger to my lips. "No 'what ifs,'" he murmured, his gaze unwavering. "We cannot let fear dictate our lives. Whatever happens, we will face it together, as we always have."

He leaned in, his forehead resting against mine, and I closed my eyes, letting his words sink in. The warmth of his breath against my skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the strength in his embrace all worked to calm the storm within me. 

Slowly, I began to breathe easier, the frantic pace of my thoughts slowing to match the rhythm of his heart.

"I'm here," he whispered, his voice a gentle echo in the quiet room. "And I always will be."

As the moments passed, the tension in my body began to ease, replaced by a tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. 

A/n - Inspired by that one scene of Meredith falling down the stairs in Grey's.

[narxcisse]

★ — Mama's boy Jason Todd headcanons

Jason Todd x Mother/Mother figure!Reader

CW: mention of Jason's death (+reader blames Bruce for his death), fluff, I did my best to keep it canon without romanticizing or fanonizing anything. 😭

English isn't my native language

Jason met you before his days as Robin, back when he was still living on the streets. You were one of the rare adults who didn’t look at him with pity or disdain but instead treated him with quiet respect. Maybe you ran a small diner, a shelter, or worked as a social worker with no patience for bureaucracy.

The first time Jason came into your life, he wasn’t looking for help. He was scrappy, full of fire, and incredibly proud, but you saw past the bravado to the hungry, clever kid beneath. You offered him food without strings attached, and from then on, he kept coming back.

When Bruce took him in, you were one of the few people he trusted enough to talk to. He didn’t tell you about being Robin outright, but you noticed he’d sometimes show up with bruises or a limp, his explanations half-hearted at best.

Jason sought your advice on everything—from school troubles to navigating the strange dynamics of the Wayne household. You often found yourself acting as a translator for his emotions when he struggled to articulate them.

He valued your opinion deeply. If you told him to apologize to Bruce for a fight or to take a break when he was pushing himself too hard, he’d grumble but almost always listen.

Even as Robin, Jason was fiercely protective of you. If he thought someone was giving you trouble or you were in any danger, his sharp instincts kicked in. “No one messes with my mom,” he’d mutter, even if you insisted you could handle yourself.

Jason’s growing disillusionment with Bruce often spilled into your conversations. You tried to mediate, understanding both sides but always prioritizing Jason’s feelings.

When he died, it broke you in a way you didn’t think was possible. You immediately blamed Bruce for letting him take on so much danger, not even letting him explain everything that happened. (Over time you apologized to him for what happened and understood that he was just as devastated as you were by Jason's death.)

When Jason came back as Red Hood, he avoided you for a long time. He didn’t think you’d accept him, not after everything he’d done. But when he finally worked up the courage to see you, he was stunned to find you opening your arms to him without hesitation.

“You’ve been through hell, Jason. I’m just glad you’re alive.” Those words stuck with him more than anything else anyone had said since his return.

You didn’t sugarcoat your disappointment in his methods, but you also didn’t try to control him. You understood that his pain and anger needed to run their course. Instead, you focused on reminding him that he still had someone who believed in him.

Jason acts tough, but around you, he’s a little softer. He loves the comfort of having someone who doesn’t expect him to be anything other than himself.

He calls you more than he calls anyone else. Sometimes it’s to rant, sometimes it’s just to check in. “You eat yet?” he’ll ask, even if he’s halfway across the world.

Whenever he’s in Gotham, he always makes time to visit you. He’ll bring little gifts—books he thinks you’ll like, a weird trinket from some mission, or your favorite snack.

Jason craves your approval more than he’d ever admit. When you compliment his growth or tell him you’re proud of him, he practically glows, even if he rolls his eyes and pretends to brush it off.

He’s fiercely protective of you, more so than anyone else. If he even suspects someone’s giving you a hard time, he’ll show up unannounced, ready to “handle” it. You usually have to calm him down before he goes full Red Hood.

You’re one of the few people who can challenge Jason’s darker impulses without him lashing out. “You don’t have to agree with me, but at least think about it,” you’ll say, and he actually does.

When he’s struggling with his identity—whether he’s a hero, an anti-hero, an anti-villain or something else entirely (bro seriously thinks he's Barbie. 😭🙏)—you’re his anchor. You remind him that he’s more than his past, more than his mistakes.

Jason often credits you for keeping him grounded. He’ll never say it outright, but you’re one of the reasons he hasn’t spiraled further.

Jason fixing things around your home without being asked—tightening loose hinges, replacing lightbulbs, and even rebuilding your bookshelves because he “didn’t like the wobble.”

Late-night phone calls where he opens up about his fears and frustrations, his voice quieter and more vulnerable than usual.

Cooking together when he visits, even if he claims he’s “not great in the kitchen.” He loves hearing your stories as you work side by side.

The rare moments when he lets his guard down completely, resting his head on your shoulder or letting you ruffle his hair like he’s still the scrappy kid you first met.

Jason may be a complicated, broken man, but with you, he finds a sense of peace he doesn’t get anywhere else. To him, you’re not just a mother figure—you’re his family, his safe place, and the person who never gave up on him.

The first sign something was wrong was the way Jason entered your apartment—quiet, almost hesitant. He was usually a storm of energy when he visited, slamming the door behind him and announcing his arrival with some sarcastic quip. But today, he just slipped inside, set his helmet down carefully on the counter, and stood there, staring at nothing.

You didn’t need to ask if he was okay. You already knew he wasn’t.

“Jason?” you called softly from the couch, setting down the book you’d been reading.

He didn’t respond right away, just shrugged off his jacket and draped it over a chair. His movements were slower than usual, less precise. It was like the weight of the world was pressing down on his shoulders, and for once, even his stubbornness couldn’t hold it up.

You stood and approached him carefully, giving him space to come to you if he needed it. “Rough day?”

He let out a low chuckle, but there was no humor in it. “Something like that.”

You waited, not pressing him to elaborate. Jason had always been like this—he’d open up when he was ready, and not a second before.

For a moment, you thought he might brush you off entirely. But then, with a deep sigh, he turned to you, his expression a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. “I don’t know. I just…” He trailed off, raking a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

That admission made your heart ache. Jason, who always acted like he didn’t need anyone, who carried his pain like armor, had come to you because he didn’t know what else to do.

Without a word, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He stiffened for half a second—old habits, you supposed—but then he melted into the embrace, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I’m just so tired,” he muttered, his voice muffled.

“I know, sweetheart,” you murmured, rubbing slow circles on his back. “I know.”

He held onto you like you were a lifeline, his broad shoulders shaking slightly. You didn’t push him to explain, didn’t try to fix it. You just held him, letting him unload the weight he’d been carrying for who-knows-how-long.

Minutes passed, or maybe hours. Time didn’t seem to matter. Eventually, Jason pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes red but a little clearer.

“Thanks,” he said gruffly, his voice thick with emotion.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you replied, brushing a stray strand of hair from his face. “That’s what I’m here for.”

He huffed out a small laugh, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Yeah, well, don’t go getting used to this. I’m not turning into a softie or anything.”

You smiled, tapping his chest lightly. “Don’t worry. You’re still the toughest guy I know.”

Jason rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, he leaned into your touch again, letting his head rest on your shoulder. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to just be—a son needing his mom. And you were more than happy to give him what he needed.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

AN: I wrote this for my bestie, I hope you liked it. 💗🤺

[filmsmakkari]

the tale of a princess and her fair lady

rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon!reader

Summary: The daughter of House Velaryon makes a promise to her princess

CW: None!

A/N- I have not written and published a fanfiction since I was 14... bare with and pray for me.

The chamber was silent as a young girl with silver hair knelt before hundreds of candles beneath the stained-glass windows of the starry sept. Though she had never been a believer in gods and myths before, her love and worry filled her so deeply at present that she was brought to her knees in prayer.

Lady (Y/N) of House Velaryon had been in love with Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen for the better half of a year. They’d known each other since childhood and had always been quite close. Being the only two daughters of the great Valyrian houses in the Red Keep, they’d always felt that no one could understand them as well as each other. Their relationship, which had always toed the line between platonic and romantic, had turned into an unadulterated love affair the day Rhaenyra realized that her disdain for marriage to a man had never truly been about marriage, but more so the man.

Ever since, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra had been living in pure bliss, catching each other’s eye, walking with linked arms in public, and worshiping each other’s bodies during those private moments brought on by the cover of night. In recent days, however, the girls have been slightly at odds with each other, as (Y/N)’s parents have posed a potential marriage between Lady (Y/N) and King Viserys to strengthen the realm. Rhaenyra had hardly been able to look at her lover as she could soon become her stepmother, and she didn’t want it to be more painful by prolonging their relationship until the moment (Y/N) stood at the altar.

On this day, the 13th of the eighth moon, the princess had taken a most dangerous risk in flying to her family’s seat of power, Dragonstone, to subdue her wretched uncle Daemon, who had been squatting there for a year and who had just stolen a dragon egg for his unborn bastard child. (Y/N) had gotten wind of these plans and miraculously arrived at the dragonpit just before Rhaenyra took flight. (Y/N) had implored her princess to be safe, telling her that she would not know what to do if anything happened to her. Rhaenyra, overcome by the love and emotion she had been repressing, could not think of anything else to do but cup (Y/N)'s cheeks and pull her into a kiss. (Y/N)'s eyes widened in shock for a moment, but she quickly got over it, placing her hand on Rhaenyra’s cheek and wrapping her free arm around her waist.

How lovely that kiss was, (Y/N) sighed, remembering it. Rhaenyra had left after their lips broke, and (Y/N) had been in the sept worrying ever since. Eyes closed, she murmured promises to the seven that she would never sin again if Rhaenyra was protected.

Upon hearing a familiar voice softly calling her name, (Y/N)’s eyes fluttered open. She quickly turned her head to see none other than Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her princess. The purest love in her life. Her everything.

(Y/N) ran to her lover, immediately cupping her face and kissing her fiercely. Rhaenyra met (Y/N) with the same passion, grabbing her tightly by her waist and pulling her closer. 

Two dragons burning together under the midnight sky. 

The kiss communicated everything they had been too afraid to say. “I’m sorry.” “I miss you.” “I need you.” “I love you.”

The two girls finally broke apart for air, giggling shyly in the throes of their young love. 

Suddenly serious, Rhaenyra looked deeply into (Y/N)’s eyes. A pure shade of violet only found in those with the true blood of Old Valyria, with little flecks of blue- a trait passed down from her seafaring ancestors. She then scanned (Y/N)’s entire body, her shimmering silver hair, braided at the top, loosening into long coils past her backside—the curves of her breasts and hips, the softness of her hands, and the way her brown skin shone in the moonlight.

“A true Valyrian goddess, you are,” she said.

(Y/N) looked down shyly at the compliment. Rhaenyra lifted (Y/N)’s chin with her finger and stepped closer, leaning her forehead against hers. A moment of sweetness and intimacy. 

“Kivio naejot sagon rūsīr issa va moriot,” Rhaenyra said quietly. “Dōrī jorrāelagon mirre tolie hae ao jorrāelagon issa.”

Swear to be with me always. Never love any other as you love me.

(Y/N) exhaled. “Oh, issa dārilaros. Nyke kivio, jaehossi uēpossi arlȳssī."

Oh, my princess. I swear, by the old gods and the new.

[its-avalon-08]

hi !! can you do headcanons max verstappen X senna’s daugther!reader?

thank uuuu

hii !!! if i were to imagine senna's daughter!reader she would be so talented. she isn't a driver because of her built up trauma. (im fully aware that the timelines don't add up, don't add logic into it <3) she is an aerodynamic engineer, mainly responsible for making the car. she is secretly in love with speed and racing.

max and y/n met when they were just kids. max was a menace on track and y/n was terrified of racing. she saw speeding cars as a reminder of her father's passing. being good friends, y/n has a tradition of kissing max's helmet as a feeble attempt to keep him safe.

they started dating in 2019, and have been together ever since. y/n being the absolute genius she is, continues to work in redbull and delivers top of the line car designs leading to the dominance as seen on track.

max leaves a single, perfect red tulip on y/n's desk every race weekend, a silent promise to return safely.

y/n hides little notes in max's helmet before qualifying, each one a technical insight phrased like a love letter.

max, despite his aversion to early mornings, wakes up before y/n on important presentations to make her breakfast, his way of calming her pre-work jitters.

y/n, who finds airplanes stressful, uses a calming app max downloaded for her whenever they travel together.

max, after a particularly grueling race weekend, finds y/n curled up on the couch with a book about aerodynamics. he joins her, listening intently as she explains a new concept she's been working on, his full attention the sweetest victory lap.

max knows how deeply the lack of a father figure affected her, causing under-confidence and a constant need of validation. max knows this and never stops giving her words of affirmations.

everyone of the grid adores y/n. they see her spirit and her beautiful face reflect senna's in so many ways. max is fiercely protective of y/n, often defending her from questions about her father and his death.

y/n hates jos verstappen from the bottom of her heart. she is not scared of yelling at him when he berates max. she whispers affirmations into max's ears after a bad race (which was rare but not impossible)

when max crashes, y/n is the first to suffer from the highest intensity of a panic attack. she shivers and trembles until max gets out safely. after the crash in 2021 with hamilton which caused max to fall over in the medical center, y/n angirly stormed towards the cheerful hamilton, shouting angrily.

here's what happened ↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓↓

the smile evaporated as y/n marched towards him. it wasn't a walk, it was a storm surge. "congratulations? you call pushing max off the track at 200 mph congratulations?" her voice, usually calm and collected, was a tightly leashed fury. lewis blinked, his smile morphing into something defensive. "it was a racing incident, y/n. we both went for the corner." her voice cracked. "racing incident? you call leaving him stranded on the gravel, risking his life, a racing incident? do you have any idea what it's like to watch someone you love walk away from a fireball?" the room held its breath. lewis's face paled. "y/n, i…" "no, you don't," she cut him off, her voice thick with emotion. "you don't get to pretend you know what it's like to see your dreams vanish in a cloud of smoke. you don't get to understand the terror of every single corner, every single race because you haven't lost anyone on this damn track!" tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the accusing stare she fixed on him. "max is more than a rival, lewis. he's a friend, a teammate, a human being. and today, you gambled with his life for a trophy." the silence stretched, suffocating. finally, lewis spoke, his voice devoid of its usual bravado. "y/n, i… i didn't…" "you didn't think," she finished the sentence for him, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. "just like some people never think about the consequences of their actions." turning on her heel, she stormed out of the room, leaving behind a stunned silence and a champion stripped of his celebratory air. as y/n reached the red bull garage, she found max emerging from the medical center, a sheepish grin on his face. relief washed over her, so strong it brought her to her knees. max rushed to her side, his concern a warm balm on her raw emotions. he held her close, whispering reassurances into her hair.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

well i hope you liked it! thank you for sending in your request and do send more <3 happy reading!

leave a like! leave a note!

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

[rebelspykatie]

Recently divorced Steve is roped into attending an adult summer camp with Robin. She thinks it’ll get him out of his funk, and she’s probably right. At this point, he’s mostly given up on love. He’s put off moving forward long enough and agrees that this can be his fresh start. When Steve has a chance encounter with Nancy in the airport, he thinks it’s destiny, them both going to the same summer camp. 

He has a vision of them together, the details of which he doesn’t reveal to anyone but Robin. It’s a fuzzy vision of curly brown hair, a bright smile, and a warm embrace. He fixates on it when they arrive at camp and Nancy is Robin’s roommate. It feels like the universe is aligning for him again, finally pushing him towards his destiny. Robin keeps setting up situations for them to be together, pushing them together for the team races, stepping aside so Nancy can be his partner on the ropes course. 

It also leads him to Eddie. They’re roommates for the week, and he’s Nancy’s best friend. Apparently they spent many years attending this same summer camp as kids before it reopened years later as a camp for adults. They butt heads at first, but he’s quick witted and funny, and makes Steve laugh when he needs it most. He works his way right into Steve’s heart. There’s this fearlessness that guides his every move, unafraid to look silly or be an outcast. He reminds Steve of Robin in a way that feels like home. 

They spend a lot of sleepless nights together, in separate bunks, talking across the darkness about all their hopes and fears. Eddie drags him to his thinking rock that overlooks the lake and Steve doesn’t think twice about pulling Eddie into the water and tangling their legs together in the moonlight. The paint smeared across Steve’s cheeks during arts and crafts is in the shape of Eddie’s fingers and the smile on his face feels permanent. 

Steve’s never taken a lot of chances in life, always going down the easiest path, never putting up much resistance when things felt less than perfect. Nancy feels like much of the same, and it takes him too long to notice that there’s no spark there. Sure, they fit together in a way that makes sense, but it doesn’t bring him to life like Eddie does. 

He doesn’t light up like Robin does around Nancy. He doesn’t elicit that coy smile or that fierce protectiveness from Nancy. After a while, he starts to think the universe was wrong. That his vision was about meeting Robin’s soulmate and how he wants her happiness just as much as he wants his. 

Nancy doesn’t challenge him to try new things, or face his fears. Eddie does, helping him gain the confidence to sing karaoke while Eddie plays guitar for the whole camp to hear. Robin and Eddie are the ones by his side when Steve’s parents don’t show up for family day. Eddie’s the one he keeps finding himself pulled to, a thousand missed moments where he could’ve reeled Eddie in for a kiss but didn’t. All for a vision that doesn’t even feel real anymore. 

And maybe Steve learns to let go of expectations. Accepts a part of himself that he avoided for so many years because it didn’t seem to matter when he was married and living the American dream. But now? He wants more. He wants to wake up from being a zombie in his own life. 

When he kisses Eddie in the mess hall in front of the whole camp on the last day because he feels time slipping away, he suddenly understands. It all clicks into place with his arms around Eddie, who’s pressing their foreheads together with a grin, that his vision was never about Nancy (and yes he has a type). It was always about Eddie and how Eddie could be his home.

[kitkatscabinet]

Soap, Suds and the Scouser

John Price x MacTavish! reader

Summary: Due to shitty neglectful parents, Johnny's older sister had been forced to take him in and raise him as her own. As such, she's fiercely protective of him, not that he minds, at least not until she screams at his Captain.

Word count: 4.4k

Johnny doesn’t remember much of his life before you. All he remembers is feeling cold, and not understanding love until you swept into his life. From the moment you had swept into his life the dull greys had morphed into an array of colours, his unrelenting loneliness and misery chased away by the light of your affection. 

He doesn’t have a ma and pa like most other kids, and sometimes they tease him for it but he doesn’t mind, because he’s got something better. His big sister is the coolest person in the whole world! You tuck him into bed and read him bedtime stories every night. If he’s been really good he even gets to visit the base where you work sometimes. (He doesn’t understand until he’s older why you suddenly retire from the coolest job ever.)

You never yelled at him and even seemed to get upset when he wouldn’t let you know he was hungry. He cried when you scolded him for that, begged you not to send him back to the house with the angry people who sometimes forgot to feed him. He’d been surprised when instead of getting mad at him you’d started to cry, squeezing him tightly against your chest until he wriggled to be let go. 

You hugged him much more after that, pulling him close whenever he was within reach and planting raspberries on his tummy while he shrieked in laughter. You keep it up even as he gets older and tries to escape from the kisses you’d pepper his face with.  

He was fourteen the first time he snapped at you for it and the way your face had fallen would forever be burned into his brain. You pull away a little after that and Johnny feels sick with guilt, he hugs you a lot more after that.

Later in his life when asked why he’d joined the military he’d answer without hesitation, that he wanted to be like his idol. He wanted to be like you, wanted to make you proud. In a way, he wants to live up to your legacy. As a child, he hadn’t realised just how much of your life and career you’d had to give up to take care of him. 

(You’d been on track for a promotion to lieutenant, and likely would have made captain in record time too.)

As you started to near 40 Johnny was determined to step up and take care of you for once. He makes it through selection easily, but to his surprise, you’d blown up at him. He can’t remember an instance where you’d been so furious at him, not even when he’d crashed his principal's car on a dare. 

It’s the first time in his life you end up not being on speaking terms and he doesn’t know what to do. He can’t exactly leave the army, wouldn’t even if he could because finally, it feels like he has a purpose. The men in his unit instantly pick up on his sudden 180 in personality but any inquiries are instantly shut down with a glare. 

It’s the worst few months of his life, but he won’t apologise. He’s not a child anymore and he needs you to see that. He almost breaks when it’s time for his first deployment and you still aren’t on speaking terms, he’s been sleeping like shit and he misses you like a phantom limb. 

He ends up not needing to when you show up on base, with red-rimmed eyes and hollowed cheeks. Johnny crosses the distance and lets you pull him into a crushing hug, not paying any mind towards the odd stares they receive. 

“I’m sorry. Please be safe,” you whisper into the fabric of his uniform and Johnny doesn’t need you to elaborate. He doesn’t respond verbally, because there’s nothing else to be said, and simply squeezes you tighter against him for what will be the last time for a while. 

It’s hard to be away from you for so long, he’s never done it before and he’s teased relentlessly for how often he calls you. Johnny just laughs in their faces when they pout and complain when he gets your care packages, he has many emotions about your bond but shame is not one of them. 

When the plane lands on his home turf and the dust settles Johnny can’t wait to collapse into one of your hugs and he can practically taste your cooking and he wants to cry when he remembers he’ll have to wait another day. Only, when his boots hit the tarmac he only has to take a few steps before he sees you waiting for him, beaming grin as you open your arms. Dropping his bag, he closes the distance in a flash and he’s not ashamed when he pulls away and notices the wet spot he’s left on your shoulder. The next thing he notices is the uniform, his eyes widening and you laugh. 

“Now that I don’t have to look after a brat anymore I figured it was high time I became active duty again.” He can’t seem to reign in his shock, gawping like a fish and you frown in faux anger, “What? Think I’m too old to do the job? I could still put you in the ground Johnny.” The look in your eyes promises retribution if he doesn’t agree so he simply nods rapidly. 

He’s twenty-two when he gains the moniker Soap, you laugh when he tells you and his smile drops when you won’t explain what’s so amusing. (No matter how much he asks around the base all he gets is amused laughter.)

It’s not until he’s twenty-three, riding the high of being selected for an elite task force and returning home after the shit show that was Verdansk that Soap starts to learn more about the imposing history of his sister. 

He doesn’t even make it to the debriefing room, still covered in grime when he spots you stalking towards him with concerning vigour, thunder on your face that usually indicated an impending ass-whooping. 

Preemptively Johnny backs up, mouth opening to apologise for whatever he’s done, only to freeze as you march straight past him and round on his captain. “You John Price?” Soap recognises the tone and decides it’s in his best interests to stay still and silent, Gaz is openly gawking though the mask makes it impossible to gauge Ghost’s reaction. 

His captain, in a terrifying show of no self-preservation skills, nods in a ‘who wants to know’ sort of manner, brow raised and arms crossed. 

“I dinnae ken who the fuck ye think ye are - ” Oh dear. Instantly Soap’s mind blue-screened, white noise ringing in his ears. Your accent only ever got that heavy when you were truly angry, when he zoned back in you were still yelling, arms flailing to enunciate your point that had very likely become very lost in translation to his starstruck teammates. “ - Irresponsible!” 

Your chest was heaving by the time you’d finished, perfect hair even a little dishevelled. “Laswell” you nodded your head in respect towards the woman, before smiling softly when you turned to Soap. 

“Johnny, bring your teammates over for dinner when you’re free.” It’s said kindly enough but Soap knows it’s not a suggestion. You pat him lovingly on the cheek before disappearing back down the hallway. 

When the shock fades and movement becomes a possible thing again, it takes some extra cajoling to get their captain’s attention and Soap is mortified that whatever his sister said, it had so profoundly shaken the unflappable man. 

Unable to hold anyone’s gaze, Soap marches forward, resolutely staring blankly at the floor. If he’d taken more than a few seconds to gauge his Captain’s reaction, it would have been abundantly clear his frozen state wasn’t one of perceived terror but arousal. 

From the moment John Price bore witness to the fuming Scotswoman stalking towards him with the grace of an apex predator he knew he was fucked. You were an absolute vision, truth be told he barely registered the venomous words you were screaming at him, in front of his men no less. 

His dazed eyes flickering from your perfect pretty lips down to your tits, hips, thighs and back up. His brain was empty of all thoughts except for the stunning goddess and how you’d look sitting astride his lap, squeezing his cock as he mouthed at your -

He clears his suddenly dry throat, dilated pupils darting back up to flicker over your face once more as he desperately attempts to reel his focus back towards what you’re saying, to anything that’s not the aching erection begging to be freed from the confines of his tactical pants. 

Shifting his weight uncomfortably he watches as you pat Soap on the cheek lovingly, forlornly wishing that was him instead. Watching your ass sway with your departure, holding back the groan building in his throat. 

Vaguely Price was aware of the wide-eyed looks exchanged behind his back as he stomped towards his quarters, little mind was paid towards them however. His focus solely on reaching the privacy he needed, slamming the door shut with far more force than necessary as his other hand fumbled for his belt. He doesn’t bother with his pants beyond freeing his flushed cock, leaning back against the door with eyes closed to help better produce an image of your likeness in his mind to match the voice that still rang in his ears. 

Although you weren’t in any capacity attached to the 141, couldn't be due to your conflict of interest, you still shared a base. It was large enough that logistically you should have been able to work without ever seeing any of the 141. Key words being should have, because all of a sudden John Price seemed to be everywhere you turned. 

At first you’d simply assumed he was just another man in power, irritated that you’d so thoroughly dressed him down in front of his men but John Price quickly proves you wrong. He brings you tea, hustles to hold doors open and more than once you’d walked into your office to find flowers. You want to think he’s just trying to get into your good graces, trying to smooth things over with one of his teammates siblings, the denial doesn’t last long. 

You try not to be so taken by his blatant courting attempts even if you are a little confused. Nobody has ever given you this much blatant effort and it makes you feel like a little girl with her first crush instead of the grown woman you are. 

It’s embarrassing, but it’s the most romantic, the most tender that you’ve been treated pretty much since you first took in Johnny. You’d given up on several potential relationships before they could even start over the years, not willing to let him suffer from any potential breakups. 

Still, when you arrive to your office at 4am to find a bouquet of sunflowers you can’t help the way your heart hammers relentlessly against your ribcage as if trying to escape, to jump out straight into the arms of John Price. 

To Soap’s surprise, it’s his Captain who clears their schedule, getting on his sergeant’s case about the promised dinner he’d nearly forgotten about himself. When Johnny walks apprehensively through the front door of your home the anger is apparently gone and you greet them all eagerly, planting a kiss on his cheek as you ushered them all inside and towards the table. 

“Smells heavenly, thanks for having us lass” Price smiles charmingly, moving into the kitchen and swatting your hands away as he finishes setting the table and commanding the boys to help him, insisting that you sit and rest. 

Soap, who is still somehow unaware of his captain’s affections, feels like he’s entered a new dimension for a few seconds. The perceived tension he’d expected nowhere to be found, though he quickly decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, simply happy that everyone was getting along. 

(He’ll look back on this moment down the line and wonder how he was so blind.)

The food is great and you’ve even bought Soap’s favourite beer, something you don’t drink and Johnny lets himself relax as he witnesses you joke around with the team and even start to mother Gaz and Ghost.

“How is it you know Laswell?” Price asked, seemingly hanging on your every word as he sat down next to you on the couch. Soap paused his conversation with Gaz to listen in as all ears and eyes were suddenly on you, you’d always been notoriously quiet about anything to do with your career. 

“Classified” you smirked, laughing as Johnny groaned dramatically and slumped back down in his seat. “I will say we were both very young,” you look into the bottom of your glass with a nostalgic gaze, but there’s something on your face that looks far too close to the time he’d walked in on you- 

“Oh my god! You fucked Laswell!” He shrieked and Soap thought he could be forgiven for the girlish raise in pitch. Price choked on his bear, froth spilling from his nose as you reached for a washcloth to pat his shirt dry, the man having to bite back the groan at the feel of your hands against his chest. 

You don’t give a verbal response but you do turn back to Johnny with a mischievous grin whilst wiggling your eyebrows. When the situation calms a little you surprise him by volunteering even more information, “she was the one that started calling me Suds.”

There were a few seconds of silence as the information was processed before Kyle started to laugh, and Johnny frowned a little, “wait…” he trailed off, shooting you a somewhat betrayed look as you started to laugh too. 

“What was it you told me? They call you Soap cause you clean house? Na little brother, you’re named after me.” Johnny’s face was hysterical as he pouted, his teammates teasing him as laughter filled the house. 

At some point, you’d meandered outside as the boys had started to roughhouse after a game of cards had devolved into a lighthearted screaming match. You sat on the porch with closed eyes, allowing yourself to enjoy the feel of the cool night air on your skin. 

A creak behind you alerts you to the presence of another, the wind carries the scent of scotch and cigars and you open one eye to watch as Price sits next to you. “Needed a break from the peanut gallery?” your brows raise in amusement as he huffs at your words, reaching for a smoke and placing the end in his mouth, hands patting down his pockets for a light when you gave silent confirmation that his actions were ok. 

You giggled a little as his frustration grew, reaching over with your own lighter, holding the flame out for him. “Cheers love,” his gravelly voice sent a shiver down your spine. His breath hitting the back of your hand and you watched slightly mesmerised as he inhaled the smoke. The conversation dwindled and you sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying the company as your arm lightly brushed his jacket-clad one. 

Silently Price handed you the cigarette, and though you didn’t usually smoke you found yourself accepting, acutely aware of his deep blue eyes boring into the side of your face as your lips clasped around the filter.     

“Sorry for going off at ye earlier” you apologised, suddenly realising that you’d failed to do so. Continuing to stare straight ahead as you passed the smoke back his way, knuckles brushing against his slowly. 

“S’alright lass, you’re just looking out for what’s yours, it’s admirable really. Sexy too” he growled, voice a whisper on the wind. You’re not sure if the shiver that runs through your body is from his words or the cool night air. Regardless, you lean just a little bit closer into the captain’s warmth, a contented hum escaping your lips when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, tucking you into his side. 

You’re not ashamed to admit that over the past few weeks you’d been oogling the Captain, it was hard not to when the man flaunted his body so shamelessly in front of you. Looking, it quickly became apparent, was hardly comparable to touching and its impossible to ignore the way your body sings in delight at the feel of him against you. 

Up close you can better detect the hints of his cologne, spicy wooden undertones accentuated by the faint whiskey you can smell on his breath as it caresses your forehead. From any other man the scent of cigars and alcohol paired with the scratch of a beard aginst your ear as he leaned his head against yours would have been a turn off, but it was so quintessentially him, so John Price that you couldn’t help but love it. 

It’s the rusty squeak of the screen door, alerting you to the presence of another, that forces the two of you to part. Ghost, no, Simon, stands silently at the threshold, watching the scene before him with appraising eyes. 

“Johnny’s looking for you.” His words cause you to sigh, throwing an apologetic glance Price’s way before you all head back inside, brown and blue eyes boring into the back of your head. 

Your little brother ends up simply wanting to whine to you about how Kyle has to be cheating, it’s the only possible way the man could have won so consecutively. You want to throttle him for that, for so thoroughly cockblocking you, instead you settle for scuffing him over the back of the head and forcing him to help you with the dishes. 

You work together in practiced tandem, cooperating with silent ease the result of years attending to each others needs. It’s the first instance during the night that the two of you have a moment alone together and you allow yourself to enjoy the peace and monotony of the task, silence accompanied by the soft spray of water. 

“Been meaning to ask, what’s it that got you so barmy with the captain.” His words are lighthearted, teasing, though you can’t help the way your hands still suddenly as you were reminded of that day. You pull yourself together as quickly as possible but Johnny has already undoubtedly picked up on your sudden change in behaviour, the clinking of the ceramic plates in the sink alerting him to the fact your hands were shaking. Although Johnny’s not sure exactly what’s upset you, he’s aware that he has and quickly tries to backtrack but you cut him off, 

“He put my baby brother in what was very avoidable danger” you whispered, eyes never leaving the now sparkling clean plate you’d been scrubbing for the past fourty seconds. Johnny doesn’t answer the shaky confession, but he does bump his shoulder against yours, lightly pushing you out of the way and completely taking over the task. 

Ever since the dinner at your house, something had shifted between you and Price. It was un unspoken tension, crackling through the air every time you so much as laid eyes upon one another, but one you both felt. 

Lingering gazes turned to light touches, fingers brushing against yours, large hands cupping your hips as he passed behind you and the like. It was driving you insane, every night you’d return to the sanctuary of your bed, fingers exploring the expanse of your body as you imagined it was Price touching you instead. 

The two of you were a powder keg waiting to explode, waiting for the single spark that would light the whole thing. It was an inevitable reality, and one you both knew was coming. You’re not sure who snaps first, what exactly lights the powder, though you find you care very little in the face of his lips against yours. 

You push him against the door of your bedroom, hands tugging at the roots of his hair as he lets out a sinful groan, only for you to swallow it with another open mouthed kiss. With one of your thighs between his legs and pushing against his thick erection, you grind frantically against his own muscled thigh. 

The drag of you’re already soaked cunt slowly drenches his pants as well, you’re so focused on planting kisses and bites down the skin of his neck and chest as you rip his top off that you barely notice the way his dilated gaze watches your every move. 

“Fuckin hell darlin, that’s it, take what you need baby.” He sounded wrecked, his words of encouragement causing your rhythm to falter as your hands continued to paw at his chest needily. As much as Price wanted to continue watching you use him to chase you’re own pleasure it would have to wait another time, at this moment he needed you now. 

A squeal leaves your lips as your back is suddenly on the mattress and Price tugs your pants and underwear down to your ankles in one aggressive move, his hands keeping your thighs spread as he stared intently at his prize. 

The groan that leaves his throat at the sight is guttural, the praise he mutters is nearly indistinguishable over the blood pounding in your ears as his tongue swipes over your swollen clit. John Price eats like a man starved, lavishing your thighs in bitemarks when his fingers replace his tongue. He makes you cum like that twice, your juices coating his beard and neck while you tug harshly on his hair. 

“Price please, s’too much, need you now” you sobbed, pulling him up into another bruising kiss and wrapping your shaky thighs around his waist to try and coax him to where you wanted him most. Any other day he’d probably tease you for being so needy but Price was just as aching with need as you, cock flushed and dripping as he lined himself up with your fluttering hole. 

“I know darlin’” he cooed, dipping his mouth down to place reassuring kisses over your chest as you finally stripped your top half bare. His left hand cups one of your tits, forhead resting against yours as he slid into you with one smooth thrust. The pace he sets is relentless, you’ve both been waiting for this moment for weeks. There’d be a time for tenderness later, but right now it was sheer animalistic need fuelling your movements. Your nails rake down his spine as he grunts, whines reaching a crescendo that lets him know you’re quickly approaching your climax once more. 

His own rhythm starts to falter, the sensation of your warm walls squeezing him so tightly nearly too much for him to bare. He refuses to cum first however, thumb swiping over your clit as he grumbles against your collarbone, “come on love, nearly there, be a good girl and cum for me yeah?” 

You are so worked up, so desperate to please the man bringing you such pleasure that you obey with a high pitched keen, thighs clamping his waist in a vice as your walls milk his cock. Price swears at the sensation, unable to pull out from how harshly you’’ve locked your ankles over his back and is filling your womb with thick ropes of cum before he can stop himself. 

Shaky arms unable to hold his weight up anymore collapse, though you don’t seem to mind, snuggling up to him and wrapping your arms around his houlders to keep him in place. He falls asleep tangled in your arms, face nuzzled into your neck as your fingers play gently with his hair. 

When Price wakes the next morning to an empty bed and cooling mattress he frowns, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and lumbering out of your bedroom, still naked from the night before. He quickly finds you in the kitchen, standing at the counter wearing only panties with his shirt. 

Immediately the sight stirs something primal in him, chest rumbling with pleasure as he plasters himself to your back. You hum happily, turning your face so he can plant a gentle kiss on your lips. “Morning darlin.” His voice is still hoarse with sleep and you feel the way it rumbles through his bear chest against your back. 

“Morning” you let out a moan as he pressed his hard cock against you. Your head falls back to rest on his shoulder as one of his hands dips below the hem of your underwear, both of you sighing happily as his calloused fingers make contact with your still tender pussy. 

Any reprimands are banished from your brain at his touch, your worries evaporating into nothingness as the pad of his thumb flicks over your clit. Just as you’re about to cum there’s a screech from behind of “My eyes!” And you whirl around just in time to witness your little brother run face first into the wall behind him in his haste to escape. 

Johnny hits the floor with a heavy thud, hands still covering his face as he continues to scream about the atrocity he’s just witnessed. You think he might even be crying, whether from the pain or the visage of his captain’s bare arse you aren’t sure. 

You should be beyond mortified, and a large part of you is. Still, you can’t help the belly laugh that escapes you as your brain finally catches onto what’s just happened. Your legs collapse from under you as your own tears of laughter stream down your cheeks. Johnny’s also crying and writhing on the floor whilst Price looks to be contemplating murdering the both of you. 

Still giggling you manage to stand once more, pulling the captain down into another sweet kiss before spinning him around and ordering him to get dressed. You do give him a smack on the ass before he leaves though and the sound sets Soap off into a new cursing fit, one hand shaking an aggressive fist towards where he thinks his captain is while he keeps his eyes covered. 

While you’d have liked to have kept whatever it was you had with the Captain a secret for a little longer, liked to have kept him selfishly to yourself, you had to admit that scarring your little brother so badly was worth it. Though given the stink eye he relentlessly stared at Price with you’d probably have to give him a little more time to adjust. Even if unbeknownst to you, the wedding had already been planned out in the Englishman’s mind.

Tags: @innercollectivecomputer @cooliofango @pertinentpostmortem @ghostslillady @domaniquessidehoe2 @ilovehyperfixating @pauphs @Skotchi @juvenillia

[lila-lou]

✨Taking her in - Pt. 10✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Underage Reader, Language, ANGST

Word Count: 8833

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

Dean’s breath caught, and for a moment, he looked like he had been struck by your question. His grip on your hands tightened, his eyes darkening with a mixture of emotions that he had been trying so hard to keep buried. He hesitated, his throat working as he tried to find the right words, the right way to respond without causing you more pain.

But the truth was, there was no easy answer. No way to say what he needed to say without it hurting both of you.

“I…”, Dean started, his voice thick with emotion. He looked away for a moment, his jaw clenched as he tried to control the storm of feelings raging inside him. When he looked back at you, his eyes were full of a pain that made your heart ache.

“Yeah, I do”, he admitted finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I like you… more than I should. More than I have any right to”.

The admission seemed to cost him, and he looked down, his gaze dropping to your joined hands as if he couldn’t bear to look you in the eye. “But it doesn’t change anything, (Y/N). It can’t. I can’t… we can’t let this happen. It’s wrong”.

His words were filled with so much regret, so much self-reproach, that it made your heart break for him. But even though his answer was what you had feared, it was also what you had needed to hear. The fact that he felt the same way you did, that he was struggling just as much, brought a bittersweet sense of relief.

“Dean…”, you whispered, trying to find the right words, but they eluded you. Instead, you squeezed his hands, trying to convey everything you were feeling—your love, your hurt, your understanding—through that simple gesture.

Dean finally looked up, meeting your gaze, and the depth of emotion in his eyes made your breath catch. He looked like he was on the verge of breaking, the weight of his guilt and his feelings tearing him apart.

“I’m so sorry”, he said, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I never wanted this to happen. I never wanted to hurt you”.

You shook your head, tears spilling over as you leaned in closer, your voice trembling as you replied, “You haven’t hurt me, Dean. Not like you think. I just… I just wish things were different”.

Dean’s expression softened, but the sadness in his eyes didn’t fade. “So do I”, he murmured, his voice barely audible. “But I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know how to make this right”.

Your voice trembled as you fought to keep your emotions in check, the words spilling out before you could stop them. "I can learn, Dean. I can be what you need, the woman you need. I—". You were rambling, the desperation in your voice growing as you tried to find a way to convince him, to make him see that this could work, that you could be what he needed. But before you could finish, Dean gently placed a finger over your lips, silencing you with a soft, pained expression.

"Stop, (Y/N)", he whispered, his voice filled with a sorrow that mirrored your own. He removed his finger, replacing it with his hand, cradling your cheek tenderly as he looked into your eyes. "This isn’t about you not being enough. You are enough, more than enough. But this… it’s not something you can just learn or change for. It’s not something we can fix by pretending it’s different than it is".

His thumb gently brushed away a few tears, his touch achingly tender. "You deserve someone who can love you without all the complications, without all the baggage. Someone who can be there for you in every way without feeling like they’re crossing a line they shouldn’t. And as much as I… as much as I care about you, I can’t be that person".

His words were like a knife to your heart, but there was no anger in them, only regret and a deep, abiding sadness. He was trying to protect you, even if it meant breaking both of your hearts in the process.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, and you shook your head, not wanting to accept what he was saying. "But I don’t want someone else", you whispered, your voice breaking with emotion. "I want you, Dean. I’ve always wanted you".

Dean closed his eyes, his breath hitching as he absorbed the weight of your words. He wanted to pull you into his arms and never let go, to tell you that he wanted you just as badly. But he knew he couldn’t, knew that if he did, it would only make things harder for both of you in the long run.

When he opened his eyes again, they were filled with a mixture of love and resignation. "I know", he murmured, his voice hoarse. "And that’s what makes this so damn hard. But I can’t be what you need, and I can’t let you be with someone who isn’t right for you. You deserve better, (Y/N). You deserve more than what I can give you".

His words hung in the air, heavy and final. Dean’s hand lingered on your cheek for a moment longer before he slowly let it drop, the loss of his touch leaving you feeling cold and empty.

"I’m sorry", he whispered, the pain in his voice cutting through you like a knife. "I’m so sorry".

You could see the struggle in his eyes, the war he was fighting within himself. Every fiber of his being wanted to pull you close, to hold onto you and never let go. But he was forcing himself to walk away, to do what he believed was the right thing, even though it was tearing him apart inside.

As the reality of Dean’s words settled in, the weight of everything that had transpired between you became unbearable. The dam of emotions you had been holding back broke, and before you knew it, you were sobbing in front of him, your shoulders shaking with the force of your tears. It felt like your heart was shattering into a million pieces, the rawness of your pain spilling out uncontrollably.

Dean watched you, his own heart breaking at the sight. Every tear that fell from your eyes felt like a knife twisting in his chest. He wanted so desperately to reach out, to pull you into his arms and tell you that everything would be okay, that he would make it better somehow. But he knew that would be a lie, and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you more by giving you false hope.

He clenched his fists at his sides, his entire body tense with the effort of holding himself back. It took everything in him to stay where he was, to keep himself from crossing that line again. He wanted you— he wanted you so badly it physically hurt. But he knew that wanting wasn’t enough. He had to be the grown-up here, the one to make the hard decision, even if it was killing him inside.

Dean took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay strong, to resist the overwhelming urge to pull you into his arms. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N)”, he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I never wanted to hurt you like this”.

Your sobs only grew louder, the pain in your chest intensifying with every breath.

Dean stood there for a moment, his heart twisting painfully as he watched you break down in front of him. The urge to stay, to comfort you, was overwhelming, but he knew that staying any longer would only make things worse. He took a slow, steadying breath, trying to push back the emotions threatening to spill over. With a heavy heart, he finally rose to his feet, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every step away from you was an immense effort.

He looked down at you, his chest tightening at the sight of your tear-streaked face and trembling form. The sound of your sobs, the way you were crumpled on the bed, broke something inside him. He wanted so desperately to erase the pain he had caused, but he knew that the only way to do that was to step back, to give you the space you needed to heal.

You looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. “How are we supposed to go back to how things were before?”.

Dean’s heart clenched at your words. He didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know how to go back, didn’t even know if it was possible. The connection between you had been irrevocably changed, and there was no denying it. But he also knew that you couldn’t move forward in the way you both might have wanted. It was a cruel paradox, one that left him feeling helpless and lost.

“I don’t know”, Dean admitted, his voice thick with sorrow. “I wish I did, but I don’t. I’m sorry, (Y/N). I’m so damn sorry”.

He wanted to say more, to offer some kind of reassurance, but the words failed him. All he could do was stand there, his fists clenched at his sides as he fought to keep himself from falling apart. Seeing you like this was tearing him up inside, but he knew that he couldn’t be the one to fix it, not this time.

Finally, he forced himself to move, to turn away from the heart-wrenching sight of you sitting there, broken and crying. Each step he took felt like a betrayal, like he was abandoning you in your time of need, but he knew that staying would only make things harder for both of you.

As he reached the door, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. He looked back at you one last time, his eyes filled with a deep, aching regret. “I’ll always be here if you need me”, he said softly, his voice almost breaking. “But I think we both need some space right now”.

Without waiting for a response, he opened the door and stepped out, closing it quietly behind him. The sound of the door clicking shut was like a final nail in the coffin of whatever could have been, leaving you alone with your grief.

In the silence that followed, the weight of everything that had happened pressed down on you, and you felt more lost than ever.

Dean, on the other side of the door, leaned back against the wall, his hands covering his face as he tried to compose himself. The pain of leaving you like that, of knowing that he had shattered something so precious, was almost unbearable. But he knew that he had to be the strong one, had to be the one to step back and let you heal, no matter how much it hurt him.

Dean had left the same day, his departure abrupt and without much explanation. He told the others, even Sam, that he needed to help Cas and Jack with a situation back at the bunker, and while it wasn’t entirely a lie, it was also clear that he needed to put some distance between himself and what had happened in Montana. The weight of what he had done, the guilt and confusion, was too much for him to bear while staying close to you.

You, on the other hand, stayed behind in Montana for a few more days, trying to process everything that had happened. The pain of Dean leaving, of how things had ended between you, was still raw, but you were determined not to let it consume you. You had made a decision: when you saw Dean again, you would act as though nothing had happened. It was the only way you could think to protect yourself, to keep from feeling that kind of vulnerability again.

When you and Sam finally drove back to the bunker, the miles seemed to stretch on endlessly. The thought of seeing Dean again after over a week filled you with a mix of dread and nervous anticipation. You hadn’t spoken to him since he left, and the silence between you had only made the ache in your chest grow stronger. But you were resolved to stick to your plan—pretend that nothing had changed, that the night in Montana hadn’t happened. It was the only way you knew to keep yourself from falling apart.

As you pulled into the bunker’s garage, the familiar sight of the Impala parked inside sent a jolt through you. Dean was here. Your heart raced, your palms sweaty as you tried to calm yourself. Sam seemed oblivious to your inner turmoil, chatting casually about the drive and what you might find waiting for you inside. You forced yourself to respond, to act like everything was normal, even though your nerves were shot.

Stepping inside the bunker, you were greeted by the familiar sounds and smells of home. The faint scent of coffee from the kitchen, the low hum of the bunker’s systems—everything was as it should be, except for the knot of anxiety twisting in your stomach. You hadn’t seen Dean yet, and the anticipation was killing you.

“Hey, we’re back!”, Sam called out as he dropped his bag by the door, his voice echoing slightly in the large space.

A few moments later, you heard footsteps approaching, and then Dean appeared from around the corner. He looked much the same as when you last saw him, but there was a tightness in his expression, a guardedness that hadn’t been there before. His eyes flicked to you briefly, but then quickly shifted to Sam.

“Hey”, Dean greeted, his voice steady, but lacking the usual warmth. “How was the drive?”.

Sam shrugged, oblivious to the tension between you and Dean. “Long, but it’s good to be back. How are things here?”.

Dean gave a small nod. “Fine. Cas and Jack are in the library, still working on that creature situation”. His eyes darted to you for a split second before looking away again. “I’ll catch up with you later. Got some things to take care of”.

Without waiting for a response, Dean turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with Sam. The brief encounter had left you rattled, but you were determined to stick to your plan. You took a deep breath, pushing down the flood of emotions that threatened to surface.

Sam looked at you curiously, sensing something off. “You okay?”.

You forced a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, just tired. I think I’ll go unpack and get settled”.

Sam nodded, still watching you with a hint of concern, but he didn’t press the issue. You were grateful for that. As you headed to your room, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing, of wanting things to be different, but you steeled yourself. You had made a decision, and you were going to stick to it, no matter how much it hurt.

The days that followed were tense, filled with unspoken words and careful avoidance. You and Dean managed to stay out of each other’s way for the most part, both of you clearly trying to navigate the new, fragile dynamic that had formed. The others didn’t seem to notice, or if they did, they didn’t mention it, and you were grateful for the small mercy.

But each day that passed without resolving the tension between you only made the weight heavier, the pain more acute. You wanted so badly to talk to him, to clear the air, but the fear of being hurt again kept you silent. So you kept up the act, pretending that nothing had changed, even though every moment spent near him was a reminder of just how much it had.

It had been two long, agonizing months since that night in Montana, and in all that time, you and Dean hadn’t exchanged a single word. The tension between you had only grown more palpable, like a heavy weight pressing down on the bunker. Even Sam, who usually respected your space, had started to notice that something was off. His concerned glances and probing questions only made it harder to maintain the facade that everything was fine.

But you had managed, somehow, to keep your feelings at bay. You buried yourself in research, and anything that could keep your mind occupied and away from thoughts of Dean. The walls you had built around yourself were solid, but they didn’t stop the occasional pang of longing or the hollow ache that settled in your chest whenever you caught a glimpse of Dean from across the room.

You walked down the hallway with a sense of determination, each step feeling heavier as you approached the library. The summer dress you chose was light, airy, and made you feel like a version of yourself you hadn’t seen in a long time. It was a deliberate choice, a small act of defiance against the overwhelming tension that had suffocated you for weeks. In your hand, you carried a large bag, filled with everything you might need for an afternoon at the lake—towels, sunscreen, and a book you probably wouldn’t read. You just needed to get away, to clear your mind, and find some peace.

As you entered the library, you spotted Sam and Dean at the table, deep in research. Sam looked up as soon as you walked in, his eyes narrowing slightly in curiosity. Dean, however, didn’t glance your way, his focus seemingly glued to the stack of papers in front of him. The sight of him sitting there, so close yet so unreachable, made your chest tighten, but you pushed the feeling down, determined not to let it show.

Without a word, you walked over to the table and sat down beside Sam, placing your bag on the floor beside you. The silence in the room was thick, almost suffocating.

Sam finally broke the silence, his voice gentle but probing. “Where are you headed?”, he asked, his tone casual but with an underlying concern that you could hear clearly.

You took a deep breath, trying to keep your voice steady. “I’m going to the lake”, you said, forcing a small smile. “I figured I’d go swimming, clear my head a bit”.

Sam’s brow furrowed slightly, his concern deepening. “By yourself?”.

You hesitated for just a second before answering, hoping it sounded casual enough. “No, I’m just waiting on Jack. He said he’d meet me here”.

Dean’s eyes flickered up for just a second when you mentioned Jack, but he remained silent, his expression unreadable as he quickly returned his focus to the papers in front of him. The brief moment of eye contact sent a jolt through you, but you pushed it aside, determined to stick to your plan.

The atmosphere in the room was tense, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. You could feel Sam’s gaze still on you, his concern palpable, but before you could say anything else, there was a sudden rush of air behind you, followed by a soft thud.

You jumped, startled, and turned around quickly to find Jack standing there, his expression a mix of excitement and mild confusion. He had clearly teleported in, something he was still getting used to, and it showed in the slightly disoriented look on his face.

“Hey!”, Jack said brightly, his voice cutting through the tension like a ray of sunshine. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you”.

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding and gave him a small smile. “No worries, Jack. Just wasn’t expecting that”.

Jack grinned, seemingly oblivious to the tension between you, Sam, and Dean. “I’m ready whenever you are”, he said, glancing at the bag by your side. “This should be fun”.

Sam gave Jack a warm smile, though his concern for you hadn’t entirely faded. “Take care of her, Jack”, he said, his tone half-joking but with an edge of seriousness.

Jack nodded earnestly. “I will”.

You stood up, feeling a strange mix of relief and anxiety. You hoped that some time at the lake would help clear your head, even if just for a little while.

You barely had time to finish your sentence—“Are we taking a car, or—”—before Jack grabbed your wrist with a smile. In the blink of an eye, the library of the bunker vanished, replaced by the serene, quiet bay of the lake. The sudden shift left you momentarily disoriented, the cool breeze and the scent of water filling your senses.

“Wow, that was fast”, you muttered, trying to steady yourself as you took in your new surroundings. The lake was calm, the water reflecting the sky’s soft hues, and the quiet was a welcome change from the tension that had gripped you for so long. It was exactly what you needed—a place to breathe, to think, without the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Jack looked pleased with himself, clearly happy to have gotten you here so quickly. “I thought you might want to skip the drive”, he said, grinning. “Plus, I think this spot is perfect. It’s quiet, away from everything”.

You couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Yeah, it’s perfect. Thanks, Jack”.

Meanwhile, back in the bunker, Dean and Sam exchanged a glance as the last remnants of the teleportation shimmered away. Sam couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight of Dean’s expression—a mixture of concern and exasperation.

“Well”, Dean mumbled “now we’ve got two puppies running free out there”.

Sam’s chuckle turned into a full laugh. “Yeah, but maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Jack’s good company, and she could use a break”.

Dean grunted in response, but there was a tension in his posture that he couldn’t quite shake. He tried to focus on the papers in front of him, but his mind kept drifting back to you. The thought of you out there, trying to find some peace, only reminded him of how much he had failed to provide that for you. He didn’t want to admit it, but the idea of you being away from the bunker, possibly meeting new people, made his chest tighten with something that felt suspiciously like jealousy.

Sam noticed the way Dean’s shoulders tensed, the way he seemed more distracted than usual. “You know”, Sam said, his tone carefully neutral, “it’s okay to be worried. But Jack’s not going to let anything happen to her”.

Dean looked up at Sam, his green eyes hard but reflective. “I know”, he muttered, his voice gruff.

Sam could sense the shift in Dean’s demeanor, the way his brother’s usual calm and focused exterior had been replaced with something more restless, something troubled. It wasn’t like Dean to be so distracted, especially not when it came to hunting or research. But ever since the trip to Montana, Sam had noticed a growing tension between you and Dean, a tension that had only seemed to deepen as the weeks went by.

Sam didn’t want to push too hard—he knew Dean well enough to understand that prying would only make him shut down further—but he also couldn’t just ignore the elephant in the room. He waited for the right moment, letting the silence stretch between them as Dean pretended to focus on the papers in front of him. But Sam knew better; Dean hadn’t turned a page in nearly ten minutes.

Finally, after a long stretch of silence, Sam looked over at his brother, his voice gentle but probing. “Dean… what happened between you two?”.

Dean’s jaw tightened at the question, his eyes narrowing slightly as he continued to stare down at the papers. For a moment, Sam thought he might not answer, that he’d brush it off like he usually did when things got too personal. But then Dean let out a long, slow breath, and Sam could see the tension in his shoulders ease, just a little.

Dean didn’t look up, his voice low and rough when he finally spoke. “I messed up, Sammy”. he admitted, the weight of those words heavy with regret.

Sam’s brow furrowed in concern. “What do you mean? Did something happen between you two?”.

Dean finally looked up, meeting Sam’s gaze for the first time. The guilt and frustration in his eyes were clear, and it made Sam’s heart ache for him. Dean had always been hard on himself, always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but this was different. This was personal, something that had cut him deeper than any hunt ever could.

“Yeah, something happened”, Dean admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I’ve been trying to fix it ever since, but… I don’t know if I can”.

Sam could sense the weight of what Dean was about to say, the way his brother’s voice trembled slightly with the admission. It was rare to see Dean this vulnerable, this unsure of himself, and it made Sam feel a deep sense of concern. He knew that whatever had happened between you two had shaken Dean to his core, and the fact that Dean was willing to talk about it, even a little, meant that it was eating him up inside.

Sam hesitated, not wanting to push too hard but also needing to understand the full extent of what had happened. He needed to know how bad things were, if there was any way to help Dean navigate through this mess. He leaned forward slightly, his voice soft but insistent as he pressed further.

“Dean”, Sam began cautiously, his heart pounding a little faster. “Did you… you know, did you guys…?”. He didn’t finish the sentence, letting the question hang in the air. Sam didn’t need to say the words; the meaning was clear enough.

Dean sighed heavily, the sound filled with exhaustion and frustration. He rubbed his temple, as if trying to ward off a headache or push away the memories that were clearly haunting him. The weight of the situation was evident in every line of his face, and the admission he was about to make seemed to take an enormous amount of effort.

“No, I didn’t sleep with her”, he mumbled, his voice strained and filled with regret. There was a noticeable relief in his tone, but it was overshadowed by the lingering weight of everything else that had transpired.

Sam’s brows furrowed in concern, sensing that there was more to the story. “But?”, he prompted gently, leaning in slightly as he tried to understand what was eating away at his brother.

Dean hesitated, his eyes darting away from Sam’s gaze. He seemed to be struggling with how to put his thoughts into words, how to explain the situation without diving too deep into the pain and confusion he was feeling.

“But… I let things get out of control”, Dean finally admitted, his voice thick with guilt.

Dean’s breath hitched as he tried to find the right words, his voice wavering slightly with the weight of what he was about to confess. “We kissed, Sam”, he admitted, his tone heavy with regret. “Not just once, but twice. And… the second time… it was different”.

Sam’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt, sensing that Dean needed to get this off his chest. He could see the turmoil in his brother’s eyes, the way Dean was struggling to articulate what had happened, and it made his own heart ache for him.

Dean ran a hand through his hair, the frustration and guilt evident in every line of his face. “The second time, it wasn’t just a kiss. I mean, it started that way, but then… then it went further. She was… I didn’t even touched her much.. but… she… came. Right there in my arms, just from… just from the way we were together”.

Dean’s voice cracked as he spoke, the memory of that night clearly haunting him. The intensity of the moment, the way your body had responded to his, had shaken him to his core. It was something he hadn’t expected, something that had left him reeling in its aftermath.

Sam’s expression softened, a mix of surprise and concern washing over him as he processed what Dean was saying. He knew how much Dean cared about you, how deeply those feelings ran, but hearing the raw honesty in his brother’s voice made it clear just how complicated things had become.

“Dean…”, Sam began, his voice gentle, not quite sure how to respond. He could see the guilt eating away at Dean, the way he was blaming himself for something that was clearly more complicated than he was letting on. “It sounds like… it wasn’t just you. She felt something too, right? This wasn’t just you losing control”.

Dean shook his head, his eyes filled with a deep sense of self-reproach. “I should’ve stopped it, Sam. I should’ve pulled away, kept things from getting that far. But I didn’t, and now everything’s fucked up. She’s… she’s like family to us. She’s like my little sister, and she trusts me. And I… I betrayed that trust”.

Sam sighed deeply, feeling the weight of Dean’s words settle between them like a heavy cloud. He could see just how much this was tearing his brother apart, the guilt and self-reproach so evident in Dean’s expression. Sam knew that Dean had always put the needs of others before his own, often to his detriment. But this time, it was different. This time, the lines between right and wrong, between protector and partner, had blurred in a way that neither of them had anticipated.

“Dean, listen”, Sam started, his tone firm yet compassionate. “You didn’t betray her trust. If anything, you both were caught in a moment where emotions were running high. She’s not a kid anymore. She’s an adult, and she has her own feelings about this, too. You can’t shoulder all the blame”.

Dean shook his head, the guilt still gnawing at him. “I get what you’re saying, Sam, but it’s not that simple. She’s family. I’ve watched her grow up, and I’ve always tried to protect her. I crossed a line, and now I don’t know how to make things right”.

Sam leaned back in his chair, considering his next words carefully. He knew that Dean was struggling with more than just guilt—there was a deep-rooted fear of losing the bond that you all shared, a fear that the damage might be irreparable.

“You didn’t do this alone, Dean”, Sam said gently. “She was there with you, and she made her choices, too. The fact that… she responded the way she did means something. It means that this is more complicated than just a mistake. It means that there are feelings involved, real ones, and you can’t just pretend they don’t exist”.

Dean rubbed his temples, the frustration evident on his face. “But what am I supposed to do, Sam? If I go down this road, I risk ruining everything. And if I don’t… I don’t know if I can live with that either”.

“I can’t tell you what to do, Dean. But I think you need to talk to her, really talk to her. You need to figure out where you both stand and what you want. This isn’t something you can just ignore and hope it goes away”.

Dean shook his head, his frustration and self-loathing bubbling to the surface as he tried to make sense of the turmoil inside him. “Sam, I already talked to her”, he mumbled, his voice thick with emotion. “I told her I’m too old for her, that she deserves someone better. But… damn it, Sammy, she’s 18! I feel like a fucking pedo! I don’t even know why the hell I feel something like this for her”.

His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his guilt and confusion. Dean ran a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck as if he could squeeze the thoughts out of his mind. He was a man used to fighting monsters, to facing down the worst the world had to offer, but this—this war within himself—was something he didn’t know how to fight.

Sam could see the torment in Dean’s eyes, the way his brother was battling against feelings that he didn’t fully understand. It pained Sam to see Dean like this, torn apart by emotions that were so much more complex than any hunt they’d ever been on. He knew Dean’s instinct was to protect, to shield others from harm, and now Dean was stuck in a situation where he saw himself as the danger.

“Dean”, Sam said softly, trying to ground his brother, “You’re not a monster. You’re not a predator. You’re a human being, and you’re allowed to have feelings, even if they’re complicated. The fact that you’re struggling with this so much shows that you’re not the person you’re afraid of becoming”.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering with anger—mostly at himself. “It’s not right, Sam. It doesn’t matter how much I try to justify it, it’s just not right. I’m supposed to be there for her like a brother, and I crossed that line”.

Sam sighed, leaning back slightly in his chair as he tried to figure out the best way to approach this. He knew how deeply Dean cared, how he always took on more than his share of guilt and responsibility. But Sam also knew that sometimes, Dean’s sense of duty could blind him to the reality of a situation.

“I get it, Dean”, Sam said, his voice steady but understanding. “It’s messy, and I know it feels wrong to you. But honestly? I don’t see such a huge problem here”.

Dean looked up at him, a mix of surprise and frustration in his eyes. “How can you say that, Sam? I’m supposed to protect her, not… not get involved with her”.

“I know”, Sam replied quickly, not wanting to dismiss Dean’s concerns. “But think about it—she’s not a kid anymore. She’s 18, and she’s been through a lot. She’s capable of making her own decisions, and she obviously cares about you too”.

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but Sam pressed on.

“Look, I’m not saying it’s simple or easy. It’s not. But the fact that you’re so torn up about this shows that you care about her in the right way. You’re not trying to take advantage of her, and she’s not some helpless kid who doesn’t know what she wants”.

Dean ran a hand over his face, his frustration evident as he tried to articulate the fears that had been gnawing at him. “What if she’s just confused, Sam?”, he asked, his voice tinged with a mixture of worry and resignation. “What if she doesn’t really know what she wants? Maybe she’s just… mixing up her feelings. I mean, how do we know if she likes me for being, well, a man, or if it’s just because I’ve been there for her when no one else was?”.

Sam could see the deep concern in Dean’s eyes, the way he was grappling with the idea that you might not truly know your own feelings. It was clear that Dean was scared—scared of hurting you, scared of taking advantage of what might be misplaced affection, scared of making a mistake that could affect you both for the rest of your lives.

“I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. She’s been through a lot, yeah, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know her own mind. You’re not just some guy who showed up in her life—you’ve been there for her, through everything. And I think she’s old enough, mature enough, to know the difference between gratitude and real feelings”.

Dean looked at Sam, uncertainty still clouding his expression. “But how can I be sure, Sam? What if she’s just… what if she’s confused and later realizes she doesn’t feel that way? Then what? I’ve crossed a line that I can’t uncross”.

Sam sighed, understanding the depth of Dean’s dilemma. He knew that Dean wasn’t just afraid of making a mistake—he was terrified of losing the bond you both shared, of damaging something that had been so important to both of you for so long.

“Dean, you’re right to be cautious”, Sam acknowledged. “But you also have to trust her. Trust that she knows what she wants, and trust yourself enough to believe that you’re not manipulating her feelings. You’ve always treated her with respect, and that hasn’t changed. Just… talk to her. See where her head’s at. Don’t assume the worst”.

Dean nodded slowly, though the worry in his eyes didn’t fully dissipate. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up, Sam. I don’t want to hurt her more than I already did”.

“And that’s why you won’t”, Sam said firmly. “Because you care enough to be worried about it. You’re not rushing into anything, and you’re trying to do the right thing. Just take it one step at a time, and be honest with her—and yourself—about how you’re feeling”.

Sam held his brother’s gaze, his expression softening with a mix of empathy and understanding. “Dean”, he continued quietly, “don’t you think I knew how you felt about her? I’m your brother. I see things. And honestly, I just hoped you would at least wait until she turned 18. But deep down, I knew that day would come. I saw the way you looked at her, the way you watched out for her. She’s always been more mature than other girls her age”.

Dean blinked, his mind reeling. He had always prided himself on being the one who kept things together, who looked out for everyone else without revealing too much of what was going on inside his own head. But Sam had seen right through him, had known what he was feeling even before Dean had fully admitted it to himself.

He ran a hand through his hair again, a nervous habit that betrayed just how out of his depth he felt. “You knew?”, he asked, his voice thick with disbelief. “Why didn’t you say anything?”.

Sam offered a small, rueful smile. “What could I have said? ‘Hey Dean, I know you’re falling for her, but maybe pump the brakes until she’s older’? It’s not like I could’ve stopped you from feeling what you felt. And honestly, I didn’t want to make things harder for you. I figured… I don’t know, maybe it would just work itself out”.

Dean swallowed hard, his throat feeling tight. The fact that Sam had seen it all along made him feel both exposed and oddly relieved.

Dean felt his stomach twist at Sam’s words. The idea that his brother had seen through him, had watched as his feelings for you evolved over the last few months, made him feel exposed in a way that was deeply uncomfortable. He had always tried to keep those emotions under wraps, burying them deep where they couldn’t cause any harm. But hearing Sam describe it so plainly made it all too real.

Sam sighed, his expression serious yet compassionate as he continued. “Dean, I saw the way your feelings changed over the years. It wasn’t just something that happened overnight. She grew older, and your gazes… they grew different. I noticed the shift, especially on her 17th birthday”.

Dean’s breath caught in his throat. That day had been burned into his memory—how you had walked into the room, looking more like a woman than the little girl he’d known for so long. It was a moment he’d tried to dismiss, to convince himself that it didn’t mean anything, but deep down, he knew it was a turning point. And apparently, Sam had seen it too.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first”, Sam admitted, his voice softening. “I thought maybe it was just a phase or something that would pass. But it didn’t. You started looking at her differently, and it wasn’t just the way you looked at her, Dean. It was the way you acted around her, the way you tried to distance yourself even though it was clear you didn’t want to”.

Dean flinched slightly at Sam’s words, his guilt deepening as he listened to his brother’s observations. The truth, spoken aloud, was like a punch to the gut. He had always tried to maintain some distance, to keep things from crossing a line, but it seemed that in doing so, he had only made his feelings more obvious—to both Sam and himself.

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked at Dean, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them. “And it wasn’t just you, Dean”, Sam continued, his voice tinged with frustration and concern. “At first, I thought she just had a little crush on you, like most teenage girls do. I figured it was harmless, something she’d grow out of, you know?”.

Dean’s jaw tightened as Sam’s words hit home. The thought that you might have been struggling with your own feelings for just as long as he had only made the situation more complicated. It wasn’t just about him anymore; it was about you too, and how you had been dealing with emotions that were just as confusing and overwhelming as his own.

Sam shook his head slightly, as if trying to make sense of it all. “But then, she didn’t grow out of it. She grew into it. And I could see that it wasn’t just a crush anymore. It was… more. And honestly, it scared me, because I knew how much she looked up to you, how much she depended on you. I was worried that… that it would get too complicated, that someone would end up hurt”.

Dean’s knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, his mind spinning with the implications of Sam’s words. He had always been the protector, the one who kept a clear boundary between what was right and wrong. But now, that boundary was so blurred that he could barely see it, and the idea that you had been going through something similar made his chest tighten with guilt.

Sam noticed Dean’s struggle and sighed deeply. He knew how much his brother was beating himself up over this, but he also knew that Dean was stuck in a mindset that wasn’t helping anyone—least of all you.

“Dean”, Sam started, his voice softening as he tried to reason with his brother, “this isn’t the 80s anymore. People are a lot more open about relationships with age gaps. It’s not like you have some sick fetish or something. Yeah, the situation isn’t ideal, but when is anything in our lives ideal? We’ve never exactly had a ‘normal’ existence”.

Dean let out a bitter laugh, his eyes filled with frustration. “Yeah, well, it sure as hell doesn’t feel right. I’m supposed to be the one looking out for her, not… not making things more complicated”.

Sam nodded, understanding where Dean was coming from, but he didn’t relent. “I get that, I really do. But what’s the alternative here, Dean? Ignore how you feel? Pretend that none of this is real and hope it goes away? Because from what I can see, that’s not working. If anything, it’s making things worse”.

Dean rubbed his face, his eyes staring into the distance as if the answers to his internal conflict might be found somewhere in the shadows of the room.

When he finally looked back at Sam, there was a raw vulnerability in his eyes that Sam hadn’t seen in a long time. Dean struggled to find the right words, to express the deep-seated fears that had been gnawing at him ever since that night in Montana.

“She’s still a virgin, Sam”, Dean said, his voice low, almost as if he was ashamed to admit it. “If… if something happened between us, I’d be her first. In everything. And I don’t want that for her. I don’t want to be the guy who takes all those firsts from her. She deserves to have those experiences with someone her age, someone who isn’t… messed up like I am”.

Sam listened carefully, his expression softening as he took in what Dean was saying. He knew his brother well enough to understand the layers of guilt and responsibility that Dean was grappling with. But he also knew how fiercely protective Dean could be, how possessive he was when it came to the people he cared about.

“You think she’d be better off with some guy her age?”, Sam asked, raising an eyebrow. He wasn’t challenging Dean, but he wanted to make sure his brother really thought about what he was saying. “Some guy who doesn’t know her the way you do, who hasn’t been through what we’ve been through? Dean, you know as well as I do that most people out there can’t even begin to understand the life we live. Do you really think she’s going to find someone who gets her like you do?”.

Dean’s jaw tightened, and he looked down at his hands, clenching and unclenching them as if he could squeeze the confusion out of his mind. “I just… I don’t want to mess her up, Sam. She’s been through enough already, and if I’m the one who… who takes those firsts, I don’t know if I can live with that. What if she regrets it? What if she decides later that she made a mistake?”.

Sam sighed heavily as he got up from his chair, the weight of the conversation pressing down on both of them. He made his way over to Dean’s stash of whiskey, knowing that his brother could use something to take the edge off the turmoil he was clearly feeling. Sam grabbed the bottle, poured two generous glasses, and then returned to his seat, handing one to Dean without a word.

Dean accepted the glass with a nod of thanks, but his eyes were still distant, lost in the maze of his thoughts. He took a sip, the familiar burn of the whiskey grounding him just a little, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the guilt gnawing at his insides.

Sam took a long sip from his own glass before setting it down on the table with a soft clink. He looked at Dean, his expression serious but filled with understanding. “I’m not gonna keep saying this, Dean, but you need to hear it: she’s an adult. She’s not some kid who doesn’t know what she wants”.

Dean’s grip tightened on his glass, the tension in his shoulders still evident. “I know she’s an adult, Sam. But I’ve known her since she was a kid. That’s the problem. How can I just forget that?”.

Sam leaned forward, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re not supposed to forget it. But you also can’t let it be the only thing that defines her. She’s grown up, Dean. And yeah, she’s been through a lot, but so have you. That doesn’t mean she’s broken or that she doesn’t know what she wants. If she’s choosing you, it’s because she sees something in you that she values, something that she wants”.

Dean’s jaw clenched, and he took another sip of whiskey, letting the words sink in. He knew Sam was right—on some level, he understood that you were capable of making your own choices. But the fear of hurting you, of crossing a line that could never be uncrossed, was almost paralyzing.

“Dean, I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit. She’s not looking for normal—she’s looking for something real, something that she can hold on to in this crazy life we live. And maybe she’s found that in you. You can’t keep punishing yourself for having feelings, man. You’re allowed to be happy too, you know”.

Dean was silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid in his glass. The idea of happiness felt foreign to him, like something that had always been just out of reach. He had spent so much of his life putting others first, protecting them, sacrificing for them, that he didn’t know how to even consider the possibility of having something good for himself.

“I care about her too much to hurt her”.

“And that’s exactly why you won’t”, Sam said, his tone full of conviction. “Because you care about her, because you’re thinking about what’s best for her. That’s what makes you different, Dean. You’re not going to hurt her because you’re already trying so hard not to. But you have to stop holding yourself back out of fear. Talk to her, be honest with her, and let her be honest with you. You both deserve that”.

Dean looked up at Sam, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he processed his brother’s words. Sam’s suggestion caught him off guard, but he couldn’t deny the truth in it. They had been dancing around this issue for too long, and Sam was right—something had to give.

“You know what?”, Sam said, setting his empty glass down with a decisive thud. “I’m going out tonight”. His tone was firm, leaving no room for argument. “I’m giving you and her the bunker to yourselves. When I get back, you two better have talked, Dean”.

Dean opened his mouth to protest, but Sam cut him off with a raised hand. “Don’t try to weasel out of this. You’re the older one, right? Act like it. Be the grown-up here and talk to her. She deserves to know what you’re thinking, and you deserve to know what she’s feeling too”.

“You make it sound so easy”, Dean muttered, his voice tinged with frustration and a hint of fear.

Sam gave him a sympathetic look but didn’t back down. “I know it’s not easy, Dean. But it’s necessary. You can’t keep avoiding this. If you don’t talk to her, it’s just going to keep eating at both of you. And honestly, I think you’ll both be better off once everything is out in the open”.

Dean nodded slowly, knowing deep down that Sam was right. He had been avoiding this for too long, letting his fear and guilt control his actions. But it was time to face the truth, no matter how difficult it might be.

“Alright”, Dean finally said, his voice resigned but determined. “I’ll talk to her”.

Sam smiled, relieved to see his brother finally accepting what needed to be done. “Good".

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

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Part 11

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[bwat5-blog]

Vi's Ending

**Spoilers for all of Arcane**

I have written about and discussed Vi in significant detail. However it was pointed out to me recently that her ending is worth its own detailed discussion and I completely agree. For those who have been sticking with me on these, you already know Vi is my favorite character. She means a lot to me, as she does to many of you for various reasons. So before we dive in let me say this:

Vi is NOT the Jinx

Vi is NOT a bad sister

Vi did NOT get Jinx killed

I have written in great detail defending and explaining each of these points, and because of that I will not detail those here. But if you are interested I'd love for you to check out my other posts and share your thoughts! Ultimately I am just another fan, and I am really enjoying celebrating the achievement in story telling this show has become, and its legendary characters.

The End:

At the end of this story, we find Violet, sitting alone, drinking, humming powder's song from the very first moments of the show. She appears deeply in thought and is curled up on herself, only opening up when her beloved Caitlyn joins her. They share a tender moment where Caitlyn asks her if she is still in this fight, to which Vi responds "I am the dirt under your nails cupcake, nothings gonna clean me out" and lays her head on Caitlyn's shoulder allowing herself to relax as Caitlyn smiles softly looking into the fire. This seems to be our last look at the couple outside of the game if Riot is to be believed (money talks people, keep these characters popular and they may listen!), and it has understandably sparked reactions across the board. For myself, I found it bittersweet. Beautiful and hopeful in many ways, but recognizing the weight of what they have survived, and validating the healing they still need. I view it as Vi finally being on the road to peace, just not quite there yet.

The Heart of Zaun:

I have extensively detailed who Vi is in other posts and therefore will spare you the diatribe here. But to properly appreciate and understand why her ending was so meaningful we do have to understand who she is.

"You've got a good heart. Don't ever lose it, no matter how the world tries to break you"- Vander

Vi is not perfect. She impatient, quick to anger, stubborn beyond belief and impulsive. But these are things born of the dark and angry world she has been forced to survive in all her life. At her core, who is she really?

A Daughter

A Sister

A Warrior

A Guardian

What Vi proves time and time again throughout this story is that she is fiercely loyal, loving, and true. She is tough as nails and brave sure. But we also get these beautiful moments of fragility. Moments where her love, her fear and her hope bleed through the mask she keeps up showing us who she is beneath. Other lessons from Vander plays a major role in who she becomes as well:

"When people look up to you, you don't get to be selfish"

"Who are you willing to lose?"

-- Vander

Vi was already trying to care for the kids around her, and had at a young age been through so much trauma and loss. But as any teenager would, she still displayed a lack of understanding about the potential broader consequences of their actions. After her talks with Vander, almost every decision she makes she is trying to protect those she loves, or trying to atone when she feels she has fallen short. Her own happiness becomes her last priority in almost every situation. And her journey to overcome this, to learn that its okay for her to know tenderness, and peace, and love and that those things don't make her unworthy. This is Vi's inner journey.

She deserves the things she fights so hard to give the people she loves. I meant to re-blog it and hope I did, but another user pointed out something I have never considered. When she and Vander are talking on the bridge, and he gives here these lessons, what does she say is the reason she wants to fight? - that she grew up knowing she was less than, but she wants more for her little sister and will bleed to do it. Even at that young age, before experiencing so much of the pain she goes through, she doesn't see herself as deserving of that same defense as everyone else in her life... She believes is meant to be the shield, and never the shielded.. An inspiring and heroic notion on paper, heartbreaking to recognize in a teenage girl who is only just beginning in life.

Back To The End:

Okay, with that refresher lets return to Vi's ending. We see this beautiful, tender moment between Vi and the woman she loves. And sure, on the surface of the moment alone it appears your standard happy ending. Safe, warm, and in the company of the woman she loves. These are all undoubtedly good things. But context matters. No decision in this show, no plot point, no animation, no detail is accidental. So we need to account for the following factors:

They have just survived a truly terrifying battle which no matter the result in terms of life and death ,would be deeply traumatizing

She and the woman she loves have made it through together its true (thank god). On a purely physical level, Caitlyn's heroic willingness to sacrifice a part of her own body to achieve victory has left her forever changed. And Vi's body has become a tapestry of scars from a life time of sacrifice and struggle

Caitlyn and Vi's reconciliation is a controversial topic in the fandom. I feel that it was justified in terms of us being given the necessary pieces to believe it, but rushed (the whole season was). Like if I asked a student to show me his work on a math equation, he got the correct answer, but he could only show me the beginning of each step he took to solve it. Correct, but incomplete. All of that to say this, their scene in the jail cell was beautiful, and it was full of meaning far more than the spicy quality (although god damn who are we kidding), but we are talking about months of time apart, with both of them living through an extremely dark period, all precipitated by an extremely traumatic "breakup". I don't think it's unreasonable to assume they have more to work through and heal from regarding this issue, although thankfully their love for each other remains strong.

The death toll of this battle is seemingly enormous although we are not given an exact number. The impact of this is obvious. And although I agree his character was not perfectly utilized, I saw Loris as the face of the countless faceless citizens of Piltover and Zaun who died in this conflict. His death right in front of Vi happening so quickly, and brutally.

Vander.. Vi had to watch her adopted father die not once, not twice, but three times. The first time after saving her life, the second time after they seemed so close to saving his, and the third time with him very nearly killing her. I'm not a mental health professional but I don't think I need to be in order to suggest this may leave lasting emotional and mental scars on her

Jinx. Vi's crusade for her sister's soul begins the moment she steps out of Stillwater with Caitlyn. The relationship between Vi and Jinx is far too complex and detailed to cover in a bullet point like this, and is one of the pillars upon which this show came to be. I'm not getting into fault or blame or any of that right now, because what it comes down to is this. Vi loves Jinx and fought so.. so hard to BE her sister again. And finally, right at the end when it seems like they are finally going to be okay, she loses Jinx. again (not dead but Vi doesn't know that). And why? because Vi breaks at the sight at the sight of Vander's body and Jinx sacrifices herself to save her. Vi's breakdown is heartbreaking. It its understandable, its realistic, its painful and its human.. But after a life time punishing herself for how she feels she failed her sister.. it hurts to admit the truth that as things stand now, Vi will probably carry the guilt of Jinx's death for the rest of her life.

I know that is all so bleak, and so heavy. And it hurts because you want to see Vi happy. We want to see her and Jinx living as sisters catching up on the time that was stolen from them. We want to see a world where she and Caitlyn are energetic and happy and healed. We want to see Vi in some way acknowledge that in the end, Jinx's sacrifice was not because Vi failed her. It was because Jinx saw that her sister who had always loved and believed in her, needed her this time. That the woman who had always stood for those she loved needed someone to stand for her. So Jinx became the shield Vi never believed she deserved.

That Vi is a bad-ass is never in dispute. We see her fight countless times in defense of those she loves, and do so quite well. Her journey is not to find her strength. It is to recognize that she is worth more than that. She deserves more. And our hope for her is born of the changes we see. As her relationship with Caitlyn evolves, and she sees her belief in her sister finally validated, She comes to understand she has more to offer than the strength of her arms.

Her relationship with Caitlyn: Their love story is so amazing, and complex, and layered. It is far too much to cover as a bullet point in another post like this and I do intend to deep-dive it soon. But in terms of this discussion, I want to stay this. That Vi and Caitlyn have their ups and downs is obvious. Its not that every moment of their time together is an unending parade of joy and romance, that would be not only bad story telling but not realistic. But the best romantic partners are those people who can fall into the flames together and walk out not untouched, but re-forged into something stronger. These two women are a great example of this. There are many important moments in their relationship that greatly effect Vi, but I am going to focus on just one:

Caitlyn Finds Vi in Jinx's Cell:

As I mentioned previously, this scene is so important for so many reasons. For our purposes, we need to remember what leads up to it. Vi immediately goes to rescue Jinx after confronting Caitlyn over her imprisonment, only for Jinx to stun her and leave her in the cell herself (there is so much context and meaning here in terms of Jinx and Vi/Jinx but we are focusing on Caitlyn right now). Then Caitlyn finds her. Alone. In the cell of the woman who killed her mother. Now there are a lot of ways this could go and Vi is clearly expecting the worst. She laments that she always chooses wrong trusting and believing in Jinx, and that this time its cost her everything. Her sister is gone. She assumes Caitlyn will be enraged, and not to mention she is in this incredibly vulnerable state, in a jail cell, after surviving seven years of false imprisonment that started when she was still in her teens. But it doesn't go how she expects.

"Sorry to say, you've grown a bit predictable"

Vi believes that this part of her, this emotional, trusting, vulnerable part of her is always wrong. But Caitlyn reveals just how much she knows that part of Vi. And not only knows, but accepts it, predicted it, and even stepped in to help the woman she loves, putting aside her own hate and bitterness. Its a powerful moment. It shows Vi just how much she is worth to Caitlyn, and it has nothing to do with her fists. Just her heart. And Vi's response to this revelation shows us maybe the first time in the entire story, where given this tiny seed of evidence that she may deserve to be happy, she chooses to let herself be. Right there in that cell with Caitlyn.

Her Relationship With Jinx:

Like Caitlyn, this relationship could only be explored properly through it's own deep dive. So again, I am going to focus on a single moment between these two as evidence of Vi hard earned affirmation of her refusal to quit on those she loves. When Vi goes to break Jinx out of jail, Jinx stuns her and escapes instead, leaving her locked inside. As Vi panics for her sister, Jinx walks away, pleading with Vi to let herself be happy, and to stop looking for her. This of course leads to the incident we just mentioned in which Vi claims she always chooses wrong in trusting her sister. "I really thought she'd help" Vi says to Caitlyn about her sister when Cait arrives. And how does her belief in her sister shake out? Jinx rides in on a war balloon at the head of an under city army, and saves the day... and then later on, saves Vi's very life at what seems to be (We know better) the expense of her own. Vi was right about her sister all along.. its just that some lessons are hard won indeed..

Conclusion:

Vi is an amazing character who has quite frankly, earned her rest. And that's what the end of the show is sharing with us. Vi is warrior. She has fought, and bled, and lost so much, but she has endured. Through her two most important relationships in her life she has found the road to the recovery from the many, many wounds her existence has left on her, and they are still wounds that need healing. There is grief, and pain, and guilt still dwelling in her. But we have seen the seeds of her self-worth beginning to bloom and it is in them that we place our hope for Vi. Because she has an inkling that what Vander told her, the same thing the woman she loves noticed within hours of of meeting her, and the same reason Jinx knew Vi would never give up on her, has always been a far greater power than her ability to do violence.

[nina-ya]

could i please request a version of your ‘loving them’ series with ace? thank you so much in advance!

A/N: i forget just how much i love some characters like Ace until I write something for them!! Pairing: Ace x reader CW: none, mild backstory spoilers if you squint Other versions: Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Ace • masterlist • ko-fi • discord server •

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Loving Ace is like chasing the sunset knowing you cant ever quite catch it, but still, you run because the colors that it paints across the sky are worth every step. He’s like that- unreachable at times, always running far ahead and driven by something deeper that you can’t quite understand. But when he stops and lets you catch up, the moments that he shares with you feel like the most precious things in the world. 

Loving Ace is waking up to the warmth of his body curled protectively around you like he’s protecting you from the horrors of the world, even when he’s the one who needs protecting. His arms are tight around you even in his unconscious state like he’s afraid you’ll slip away, like he doesn’t quite believe that he deserves to have something so precious. 

Loving Ace also means understanding the darkness that lurks behind that bright smile of his. It’s recognizing that beneath his playful and laid-back exterior, lies a heart burdened by doubt, insecurity, and the heavy weight of a bloodline he never asked for. Loving him is realizing that sometimes he needs to burn brighter than ever to hide that coldness that sometimes creeps up from inside, that there are days when his flames flicker, and that he needs someone to remind him that he is worth every ounce of love that the world has to give. 

Loving Ace is kissing him in the dead of the night, his lips hot, burning with the same fire that makes up his very essence. It’s as if he is pouring everything that he feels into that one moment. It’s desperate, passionate, a release of all the things that he feels, hoping that he can convey them with this one action. And he only pulls away when you both are starved for air, both of you breathless, lips ghosting over yours, the gesture leaving your heart racing in a picture-perfect moment. 

Loving Ace is seeing the world through his eyes- a world where freedom is the ultimate prize, where loyalty is learned through actions, not words, and where family is everything. It’s understanding that to love him is to love his crewmates, his brothers, and everyone else he has chosen to protect. Though his heart is shared with many, there’s a part of it that’s just for you, a part that no one else gets to touch. 

Loving Ace is feeling the thrill of his warm hands on your skin, the way he touches you as if he is committing every part of you to memory. His fingers dance along the flesh, tracing toasty trails along the way, and when his lips follow in soft and teasing pecks, it’s enough to send a shiver down your spine. He pulls you closer, planting kisses across every surface he can reach until he finally lands on your lips, kissing you deeply, savoring the feeling.

Loving Ace is a rollercoaster with many twists, turns, and drops. It's unpredictable, thrilling, and filled with moments that take your breath away and moments that terrify you. But no matter how far he runs, no matter how erratic those flames burn, you’ll always find your way back to each other. Because when it comes to love, Ace doesn’t do things halfway. When he loves, he loves with everything he has and you feel it in every glance, every touch, every breath, every shared moment. 

Loving Ace is standing beside him watching the sunset, hand in hand, knowing that you have a love that will last a lifetime. He is your endgame. Ace is the love of your life and that love will only grow day by day as you two face life together. And as the night falls, as the stars above mirror those freckles that dot the face of the man besides you, you know that this love- this wild, fierce, and all-consuming love- will carry you through anything. 

[woozinhos]

Hii again!! Would you do a ot13 sugar daddy headcannon? Can it have a sprinkle of smut too? ✨️🤏🏻 If you don't have the time s.coups or woozi is fine as well! Have a beautiful day!

Seungcheol:

Seungcheol is a businessman with a sharp mind and an even sharper tongue. But when it comes to you, he's a softie. He loves to spoil you and make sure you're taken care of. He has a possessive streak and doesn't like sharing you with anyone else. He likes to keep you close and show you off as his own. Seungcheol loves to take care of you financially, but he also enjoys taking care of you in other ways. He's skilled in the bedroom and knows exactly how to please you. He's not afraid to use his money to get what he wants, including your attention. He'll shower you with gifts and take you on lavish vacations, just to see you smile. Seungcheol has a bit of a jealous streak, especially when it comes to your past relationships. He doesn't like to be reminded of other men who have had you before him. Despite his serious exterior, Seungcheol is actually quite affectionate and romantic when it comes to you. He loves to hold you close and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. And finally, Seungcheol is fiercely protective of you. He won't hesitate to use his influence and power to make sure that no one ever hurts or disrespects you again.

Jeonghan:

Jeonghan is a charismatic businessman with a flair for the dramatic. He loves to be the center of attention and always knows how to make an entrance. He's incredibly intelligent and witty, with a sharp tongue that can cut through even the toughest opponents. But when it comes to you, he's surprisingly gentle and affectionate. Jeonghan loves to tease you and push your buttons, but only because he knows how much you enjoy it. He enjoys seeing you flustered and blushing, and will do whatever it takes to get that reaction out of you. Despite his playful nature, Jeonghan is incredibly possessive when it comes to you. He doesn't like to share your attention with anyone else, and will go out of his way to make sure you're always focused on him. Jeonghan has a way with words that can both charm and infuriate you at the same time. He's skilled at knowing exactly what to say to get under your skin, and he loves to watch your reactions. He's incredibly skilled in the bedroom, with a talent for driving you wild that leaves you begging for more. He'll take his time exploring every inch of your body, making sure you're fully satisfied before he's done with you. And finally, Jeonghan is incredibly loyal to you. Despite his reputation for being a player, he's never once cheated on you or shown any signs of interest in anyone else. He takes his commitment to you very seriously and will do whatever it takes to make sure your relationship lasts.

Joshua:

Joshua is the sweetest sugar daddy you could ask for. He's kind, gentle, and always there to lend a helping hand. He's a big fan of taking care of you in subtle ways, like bringing you flowers or preparing your favorite meals. He's not flashy like some sugar daddies, but his thoughtful gestures speak volumes. Joshua has a soft spot for cute things, including you. He loves to spoil you with cuddles and affectionate touches, always finding new ways to show you how much he cares. He's incredibly patient and understanding, especially when it comes to your needs and desires. He's more than willing to listen to you and make sure that your needs are met before his own. Despite his gentle nature, Joshua can be quite possessive when it comes to you. He doesn't like it when other men pay too much attention to you, and will make it clear that you're off limits. Joshua is also incredibly good at communicating his feelings and expressing his love for you. He's not afraid to tell you how much he cares and will go out of his way to make sure you feel loved and cherished. And finally, Joshua is very generous when it comes to his wealth. He's not afraid to use his money to make your life easier and more comfortable, always wanting to ensure that you have everything you could ever need or want.

Jun:

Jun is a flirtatious sugar daddy who loves to have fun. He's always up for a good time and knows how to make you laugh. He's incredibly charming and charismatic, with a magnetic personality that draws people in. He knows how to use his looks and personality to his advantage, and he's not afraid to show off his skills. Jun is a master at playing the long game when it comes to you. He enjoys teasing you and keeping you on your toes, always finding new ways to surprise and excite you. Despite his playful demeanor, Jun is also incredibly loyal and protective of you. He'll go to great lengths to keep you safe and make sure that you're happy and taken care of. Jun has a knack for making you feel desirable and beautiful, constantly complimenting your looks and showering you with attention. He loves to see you blush and squirm under his gaze. In the bedroom, Jun is a passionate lover who knows how to take control and drive you wild with desire. He's skilled at making your body sing with pleasure, always pushing your limits and making you feel amazing. And finally, Jun is a generous sugar daddy who doesn't hold back when it comes to spoiling you. He loves to shower you with gifts and experiences, wanting to give you everything your heart desires.

Hoshi:

Hoshi is a vibrant and energetic sugar daddy who loves to keep things exciting. He's always up for an adventure, whether it's trying out a new restaurant or going on a spontaneous trip. He's incredibly playful and loves to joke around, often teasing you and making you laugh. He's never afraid to be silly or goofy, and his good mood is infectious. Despite his carefree attitude, Hoshi is incredibly passionate and driven when it comes to his work. He takes his responsibilities seriously and always strives to do his best. Hoshi is incredibly affectionate and loves to show you how much he cares. He's always touching you in some way, whether it's holding your hand or wrapping his arm around your waist. He's a bit of a hedonist, with a love for luxury and fine things. He loves to spoil you with expensive gifts and treats, wanting to give you the best of everything. In the bedroom, Hoshi is wild and uninhibited. He loves to explore and try new things, always pushing your boundaries and pushing you to your limits. And finally, Hoshi is fiercely loyal and protective of you. He'll do whatever it takes to make sure that you're safe and happy, even if it means putting himself in danger.

Wonwoo:

Wonwoo is a mysterious and brooding sugar daddy who hides his emotions behind a cool exterior. He's not quick to open up to people, but when he does, you'll see a side of him that few people get to see. He's incredibly intelligent and observant, with a sharp mind that notices everything around him. He's great at reading people and can usually tell what you're thinking or feeling with just a glance. Wonwoo is fiercely protective of you, always keeping an eye on you and making sure that you're safe. He has a bit of a jealous streak, especially when it comes to other men getting too close to you. Despite his aloof demeanor, Wonwoo is incredibly passionate and devoted to you. He's not afraid to show you how much he cares, even if it means being vulnerable in front of you. In the bedroom, Wonwoo is dominant and controlling, always taking charge and making sure that you're completely satisfied. He knows exactly what he wants and isn't afraid to take it. He loves to tease you and push your limits, testing your boundaries and seeing how far he can go before you beg for mercy. And finally, Wonwoo is incredibly patient and understanding, especially when it comes to your needs and desires. He's willing to take the time to listen to you and work through any issues or problems that arise in your relationship.

Woozi:

Woozi is a gentle and caring sugar daddy who always puts your needs before his own. He's incredibly attentive and will do anything to make sure that you're happy and comfortable. He's a bit of a perfectionist, which can sometimes lead to him being a bit controlling. But he's always quick to apologize and make things right when he realizes he's gone too far. Woozi loves to spoil you with gifts and experiences, always wanting to give you the best of everything. He's not afraid to go above and beyond to make you feel special and loved. Despite his sometimes controlling nature, Woozi is incredibly loyal and committed to you. He'll do whatever it takes to make your relationship work, even if it means putting in extra effort. In the bedroom, Woozi is surprisingly gentle and sweet. He loves to take his time and explore your body, making sure that every touch and caress is filled with love and affection. He's also very observant, noticing every little detail about your body and how it responds to his touch. He's great at learning what you like and using that knowledge to drive you wild with pleasure. And finally, Woozi is incredibly protective of you, always keeping a close eye on you and making sure that you're safe and taken care of. He won't hesitate to step in if he sees anyone trying to hurt or disrespect you.

Minghao:

Minghao is a mysterious and enigmatic sugar daddy who has a way of captivating you with his charisma and charm. He's not afraid to keep you guessing, always keeping you on your toes with his enigmatic personality. He has a bit of a playful side, often teasing you and testing your limits to see how far he can push you. He loves to see you squirm and beg for more. Minghao is incredibly confident and self-assured, with a natural charisma that draws people in. He knows how attractive he is and isn't afraid to use it to his advantage. He's fiercely independent and doesn't like being told what to do. He values his freedom and doesn't like being controlled or restrained. In the bedroom, Minghao is a dominant and controlling lover who takes pleasure in taking charge. He loves to have you at his mercy, submitting to his every whim and desire. He's incredibly skilled in the bedroom, with a talent for driving you wild with pleasure that leaves you breathless and trembling. And finally, despite his cool exterior, Minghao is surprisingly tender and affectionate with you. He loves to hold you close and whisper sweet nothings in your ear, reminding you of how much he cares about you.

Mingyu:

Mingyu is a playful and flirtatious sugar daddy who loves to make you laugh and smile. He's always joking around and cracking jokes, always finding a way to make you feel good. He's incredibly affectionate and loves to shower you with physical affection, always finding excuses to touch you and hold you close. Mingyu is fiercely loyal and protective of you, always standing up for you and defending you when others try to put you down. He won't hesitate to confront anyone who threatens your safety or happiness. He's a bit of a romantic at heart, always finding ways to show you how much he cares. Whether it's taking you on romantic dates or surprising you with small gifts, he loves to spoil you with affection. In the bedroom, Mingyu is a passionate and intense lover who knows how to make your body sing with pleasure. He's skilled at finding your sensitive spots and exploiting them, driving you wild with desire. He loves to tease you and play games in the bedroom, always pushing your boundaries and challenging you to let go of your inhibitions. And finally, Mingyu is incredibly protective of your emotions as well as your physical safety. He's always there to lend a listening ear when you need someone to talk to, and he'll do whatever it takes to make sure that you're happy and fulfilled in your relationship.

Dokyeom:

Dokyeom is a charismatic and charming sugar daddy who knows exactly how to make you feel special and loved. He's incredibly sweet and caring, always going out of his way to make sure that you're happy and comfortable. He's incredibly attentive and observant, always picking up on your mood and adjusting his behavior accordingly. He's great at reading your emotions and knowing exactly what you need. Dokyeom is also incredibly generous and loves to spoil you with gifts and experiences. He'll take you on lavish vacations, buy you expensive jewelry, and take you to exclusive events. He has a playful side as well, always finding ways to make you laugh and lighten the mood. He loves to make you smile and will do anything to see that sparkle in your eyes. In the bedroom, Dokyeom is a sensual and passionate lover who knows how to make your body respond to his every touch. He's skilled at finding your sweet spots and exploiting them, driving you wild with desire. He's also very attentive to your needs, always making sure that you're satisfied before he allows himself to let go. He's willing to put your pleasure above his own, making sure that you come first. And finally, Dokyeom is incredibly loyal and devoted to you. He'll do anything to make your relationship work and will never stray from your side.

Seungkwan:

Seungkwan is a confident and charismatic sugar daddy who knows exactly what he wants and isn't afraid to go after it. He's not afraid to speak his mind and isn't intimidated by your needs or desires. He has a sharp wit and a quick tongue, always ready with a clever comeback or a snarky remark. He loves to tease you and push your buttons, knowing exactly how to get a rise out of you. Seungkwan is fiercely independent and values his freedom above all else. He's not afraid to stand up for himself and make his own decisions, even if it means going against the grain. In the bedroom, Seungkwan is dominant and assertive, taking charge and making sure that you're fully satisfied. He loves to take control and guide you through every step of the way, pushing you to your limits and beyond. He's incredibly skilled in the art of seduction, using his words and body to drive you wild with desire. He knows exactly how to make you squirm and beg for more. And finally, Seungkwan is incredibly attentive to your needs and desires, always making sure that you're comfortable and satisfied in your relationship. He values communication and is always willing to listen to your concerns and suggestions.

Vernon:

Vernon is a laid-back and easygoing sugar daddy who loves to have fun and make you laugh. He's not afraid to get a little wild and crazy, always willing to try new things and step out of his comfort zone. He has a great sense of humor and is always quick with a joke or a playful remark. He loves to make you smile and lighten the mood, even in serious situations. Vernon is incredibly loyal and protective of you, always having your back no matter what. He'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy, even if it means putting himself in danger. In the bedroom, Vernon is passionate and adventurous, always looking for new ways to spice things up and keep things interesting. He's not afraid to try new things and experiment, willing to push both of your limits to new heights. He's also incredibly skilled at reading your body language and responding accordingly, knowing exactly how to touch you and please you in all the right ways. And finally, Vernon is incredibly generous and giving in the bedroom, always putting your pleasure above his own. He's a true gentleman who wants to make sure that you're satisfied before he allows himself to finish.

Dino:

Dino is a charming and playful sugar daddy who has a knack for making you feel special and adored. He's incredibly sweet and affectionate, always showering you with compliments and praise. He has a playful and energetic personality, always full of life and enthusiasm. He loves to have fun and make memories with you, whether it's going on adventures or simply enjoying each other's company. Dino is fiercely loyal and protective of you, always looking out for your best interests and making sure that you're taken care of. He won't hesitate to confront anyone who threatens your happiness or safety. In the bedroom, Dino is a passionate and intense lover who knows exactly how to get you fired up. He's skilled at finding your sensitive spots and exploiting them, driving you wild with desire. He's also incredibly attentive and considerate, always making sure that you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. He's willing to experiment and try new things, always looking for ways to make your experience even more pleasurable. And finally, Dino is incredibly playful and affectionate in his interactions with you outside of the bedroom as well. He loves to cuddle, hold hands, and steal kisses whenever he can, always making sure that you feel loved and cherished.

[moonstruckme]

Hi omg could I request Remus comforting insecure reader who makes jokes about her looks all the time and stuff and kind of tries to avoid talking deeply about it because it actually really hurts deep down but Remus wants to address it and when he talks to her she’s like “you wouldn’t get what it’s like to be ugly you (as in Remus) have always been beautiful” ? I hope that makes sense 😭Totally understand if you don’t want to write this!

Of course you can lovely! Thank you :)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 884 words

Remus’ self control starts to fray when you discard your third outfit. 

It’s not that he’s impatient to get to the restaurant—you’ve both got plenty of time, and watching you try on clothes for him is a far from unappealing way to pass it. The issue is that you don’t seem to get how fucking phenomenal you look in all of them. 

“Oh my god,” you laugh, making a face at yourself in the mirror before lifting the top over your head. It’s tossed onto the bed, where Remus picks it up to put it back on its hanger. “That color makes me look sickly.” 

“Dove,” he reprimands. “It does not.” 

“Rem,” you mimic his tone teasingly. The late afternoon light filters through the window, and he honestly isn’t sure if the glow he’s seeing is from that or from the smile you give him. “I already look like this, I don’t need to accentuate it.” 

You do that. Self-deprecate. Like it’s anticipatory, like you’re in on a joke that hasn’t been told yet. It makes Remus’ skin prickle. 

“Anyway, I’ll be with you, handsome.” You set one hand on the bed and lean over to peck him on the lips. You take the top with you as you go, hanging it back up in the closet with a nod of thanks to your boyfriend. “I’m not aiming for mind-blowingly gorgeous, but I’d like to look at least remotely in your league, if I can.” 

“You always look mind-blowingly gorgeous,” Remus says softly. His chest aches with earnestness. 

You select a different top, tossing a coy grin over your shoulder. “Thanks, honey.” 

“No, really.” He feels suddenly hot with desperation. Remus doesn’t usually get in your way like this. You make your jokes, he disagrees politely, and he lets you move on. But the need to make you hear him, to talk until you finally get it, see how obsessed he is with you, has been building. If there’s one hill he’s going to die on, he wants this to be it. “You looked lovely in that top, and in everything. You’re exquisite, dove. Do you get that?” 

Your smile falters, and you turn away. You speak into the closet, over the schwick of hangers sliding. “Exquisite.” Humor bends the syllables of the word. “You’re too sweet. Careful, or you’ll give me an ego to eclipse the sun.” 

Remus wishes, but he seriously doubts there’s any danger of that. Your perusal of the closet picks up its pace, criticism a shadowy gray cloud above your head. He stands from the bed and steps forward to wrap his arms around your waist. You still, relaxing into him automatically. 

“I don’t understand why you have to deflect like that,” he says, doing his best to sound kind even as a protective ire burns fiercely in his chest. “You’re always making these cruel jokes about yourself, and you won’t listen when I tell you how wrong you are. Why?” 

“Remus.” It’s hardly a murmur, and yet the plea is clear. “Can we drop this, please?” 

Just like that, the fire in his chest is smothered. A dull ache takes its place. “Not if you’re going to keep doing it,” he says, kissing the nape of your neck. “Just tell me why, please.” 

You clasp your hands over his, seeking comfort even as you stiffen in his arms. “You wouldn't get it.” There’s no venom in your tone, but Remus hears the slight edge. “You don’t know what it’s like to be ugly, Rem. You’ve always been beautiful.” 

A laugh barks out of him, sharper than he means it to be. “I wouldn’t get it?” 

You’re quiet. He takes you by the shoulders, turning you to face him. Your eyes drop to his chin. 

“Do you really think I wouldn’t know how it feels to be insecure?” he asks. “Dove, I grew up with giant tears and scars on my face. People stare at me.” Your eyes flit up to his, shame and apology clear within them. When they go back down, Remus follows, ducking so you can’t hide from his gaze. “I understand that when you feel like something about you is ugly, no one can convince you it’s not. You have to do that on your own, pretty girl.” A flicker of emotion—discomfort, aversion, something else—passes over your face at the endearment. Remus has to swallow against the upset that clogs his throat. “But do you think you could try talking about yourself more kindly? For me, if not for you. It hurts to hear you being so cruel to someone I care about,” he says softly. 

Every line of your face is tense with discomfort at the topic, but you finally meet his eyes. Remus’ smile is reflexive. He’s not sure how you can find things not to love in this face so full of sweetness. 

“Sorry,” you say, sheepish. 

“Don’t be sorry.” He rubs your upper arms affectionately. “I know you don’t do it to spite me, darling.”

You bring your hands up around his neck, hugging him loosely. “You really are beautiful,” you murmur into his sweater. “With the scars, too. I’m not just saying that.” 

“So are you.” Remus kisses the top of your head. Someday, he’ll get you to believe it.