#it's like empathy is getting harder and harder to find now

[srslyblvck]

a dare too far, james potter [ Part II ]

pairing: james potter x fem!reader

synopsis: james was dared to make you fall in love with him. unknown to him, he was falling for you too. But soon the truth comes out, and you are left heartbroken.

genre: angst

warnings: mentions of y/n, heartbreak

word count: 5.5k [ a/n: what can i say, i lost track lmao ]

part I

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ THE DAYS FOLLOWING YOUR discovery had been a blur of pain and confusion. You had avoided James like the plague, refusing to even look in his direction. Your heart still ached, but your pride and self-respect kept you from falling apart in front of everyone.

It wasn’t long before your friends—Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence—noticed something was wrong. They knew you too well, and your sudden distance from James didn’t go unnoticed. You hadn’t said a word about what had happened, but one afternoon, while you sat with them at lunch, Florence finally broke the silence.

“Y/N,” she began softly, “what happened with James?”

Your fork stilled in your hand, and for a moment, you debated lying. But the weight of it all was too much to bear alone, and with a deep breath, you told them everything. From the dare to your overheard conversation in the library, every heartbreaking detail spilt out. By the time you finished, your friends were fuming.

“He did what?” Archie’s voice was low, dangerous. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, the muscles in his jaw tensing.

Leonard, usually calm and rational, had gone stiff, his face a mask of barely controlled anger. “He was using you… for a stupid dare? Merlin’s beard…”

Autumn reached across the table to grasp your hand, her face a mix of empathy and fury. “That—that is despicable.”

Florence was quieter, but her steely expression said it all. She had always been protective of you, and seeing you hurt had ignited something fierce within her.

Archie was the first to stand, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape. “Where are they?” he asked, his voice like ice. “Where’s Potter and his pack of idiots?”

You shook your head, reaching out to stop him. “Archie, please—don’t do anything. It’s not worth it.”

But Archie’s mind was made up. “Not worth it? He messed with your heart, Y/N. He hurt you. That’s more than worth it.”

Leonard and Autumn exchanged a glance, and Leonard stood as well, his usually calm face clouded with anger. “He’s not getting away with this.”

“I don’t want you to fight—” you tried again, but Archie had already turned to leave, his face set in grim determination.

“You don’t have to come,” he said, his voice softer now, though still filled with anger. “But I’m not letting this slide.”

Before you could say another word, Archie and the others were already storming out of the Great Hall, leaving you behind. A heavy sense of dread settled over you as you watched them go.

Archie didn’t need long to find them. James and his friends were walking through the hallway just outside the Great Hall, laughing about something Sirius had said, completely unaware of the storm heading their way.

Without warning, Archie charged forward, grabbing James by the front of his robes and slamming him into the stone wall with a loud thud. The sound echoed through the hallway, silencing the students nearby who had been watching.

James let out a grunt of surprise, but before he could say anything, Archie’s fist connected with his jaw in a solid punch. James staggered against the wall, his hand flying to his face as he winced in pain.

“You think you can just mess with her like that?” Archie growled, pinning James to the wall again, his face inches from his. “You think you can just play with her feelings and walk away without a scratch?”

James blinked, still reeling from the punch, but when he met Archie’s eyes, there was no deflection or defense in his gaze. There was only guilt. “Archie, wait—”

“No, you don’t get to explain!” Archie spat, shoving him harder against the wall. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to her? You broke her!”

Sirius stepped forward, his eyes flashing angrily. “Oi, get your hands off him—”

But Leonard blocked Sirius’s path, his expression dark and uncharacteristically cold. “Back off, Black. He had this coming.”

“Look, mate, we didn’t mean for it to go this far,” Sirius said, trying to reason with Leonard, though his voice lacked sincerity. “It was just a stupid joke.”

Autumn, standing beside Florence, scoffed. “A joke? You think it’s a joke to toy with someone’s feelings? You think it’s funny to break someone’s heart?”

Remus, who had been silent up until now, finally spoke, his voice soft but firm. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, Archie. James didn’t mean—”

But Archie wasn’t listening. “I don’t care what he meant! He knew what he was doing. You all did. You think you can just play with people’s lives because you’re the Marauders, huh? Because you’re so damn popular?”

James, his cheek red from the punch, swallowed hard. “Archie… I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

“Shut up,” Archie snapped, pushing James harder against the wall. “You knew what you were doing. You used her for a dare—you made her believe she could trust you. That she could actually care about you. And you did it for what? A joke? To get Evans jealous?”

James opened his mouth, but no words came out. Guilt twisted in his gut, more painful than any punch could have been. He had no defense. No excuse.

“I didn’t mean to—” James started, but Archie cut him off, his voice growing colder.

“You did mean to. You knew exactly what you were doing. You toyed with her feelings and now you’re going to pay for it.”

James felt the weight of Archie’s words settle over him like a lead blanket. He hadn’t wanted it to go this far. He hadn’t wanted to hurt you—but that didn’t change the fact that he had.

Before the situation could escalate any further, the sharp, familiar voice of Professor McGonagall sliced through the crowd.

“Mr. Hatcher! Mr. Potter!”

Professor McGonagall strode into the hallway, her eyes blazing with fury as she took in the scene before her. James was pinned against the wall, blood trickling from the corner of his lip, Archie’s fist still clenched tightly in his robes.

“Step away from him, Mr. Hatcher,” she ordered, her voice leaving no room for argument.

Archie hesitated for only a moment before letting go of James with a sharp shove, stepping back but not taking his eyes off him.

McGonagall’s stern gaze moved between the two boys. “Would someone care to explain what, exactly, is going on here?”

For a long moment, no one spoke. Archie’s jaw was still clenched, his fists balled at his sides, and James simply wiped the blood from his mouth, his eyes cast downward. He didn’t even try to defend himself.

Seeing that no one was going to speak, McGonagall sighed, her lips thinning into a tight line. “Very well,” she said, her voice icy. “Since neither of you seem inclined to explain, you will both serve detention. One week. Starting tomorrow.”

James nodded, knowing he deserved far worse. Archie, however, still seemed on edge, his glare burning into James even as he stepped back.

McGonagall’s expression softened, if only slightly. “Now, all of you—back to class. This nonsense is over.”

The gathered students began to disperse, and McGonagall gave one last stern look at both boys before turning and walking away, her robes billowing behind her.

As soon as she was out of earshot, Archie took a step closer to James, his voice low but dripping with contempt. “Stay away from her, Potter. If you ever come near her again, I’ll make sure that punch is the least of your worries.”

Without another word, Archie, Leonard, Autumn, and Florence walked away, leaving James standing in the hallway, bruised and guilty.

Sirius, Remus, and Peter stood in stunned silence, unsure of what to say. But James just stood there, his back still against the wall, staring after Archie as the weight of his actions pressed down on him.

He had ruined everything.

The following days were unbearable. Everywhere James went, he could feel the tension. Students whispered about him as he passed, and the disapproving stares of his classmates burned into his back. But none of that hurt more than seeing you.

You had become a ghost in his world. You still smiled softly at your friends, still went to class like normal, but you never once looked his way. It was as if he no longer existed to you. And James hated himself for it.

It took him a while, but eventually, he gathered the courage to try and make things right. He knew it wouldn’t be easy. He knew he didn’t deserve your forgiveness. But he had to try.

One afternoon, James found you in the library, sitting alone at one of the tables near the back. He approached slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. You were reading, your eyes scanning the page with an intensity that told him you were trying to ignore him even before he said anything.

“Y/N,” James said quietly, standing a few feet away from you.

You didn’t look up. “What do you want, James?”

He swallowed hard. “I just… I need to talk to you.”

You sighed, closing your book but still refusing to meet his eyes. “Haven’t you done enough already?”

James flinched at the coldness in your voice, but he forced himself to continue. “I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve messed up in a way that I’ll never be able to fix, but… I want to apologize.”

You remained silent, but your fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the book in your lap.

“I never meant for it to go this far,” he continued, his voice sincere. “It started as something stupid—something I regret more than you’ll ever know. I’ve thought about it every day since then. And I hate myself for it.”

Finally, you looked up, your expression filled with sadness and anger. “You didn’t think about how much it would hurt me, did you? You didn’t care that I might actually fall for you. That I might trust you.”

James shook his head. “I did care. I didn’t realize how much until it was too late. I’m sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to break your heart.”

James swallowed, the guilt weighing heavily on him. “I know. I’ll never be able to take back what I did, but… I want to make it right. Somehow.”

You shook your head slightly, your voice soft. “I don’t know if you can.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. James stood there, hoping for a sign, a flicker of something that would let him know he wasn’t too late. But you simply looked back down at your book, your walls firmly back in place.

James left the library that day feeling more hopeless than ever. But he wasn’t ready to give up. Over the next few days, he tried—small acts of kindness that he hoped would show you he was serious about making amends. He held doors open for you, left small notes of apology on your desk, and even helped you with your Potions homework from afar, making sure you had all the right ingredients laid out. He didn’t push. He didn’t ask for anything. He just wanted you to know he cared.

When you walked into class, your desk would be cleared of stray ink stains. A forgotten book would find its way back into your bag, or a note of apology would be slipped into your books. At first, you tried to ignore it all, but eventually, it became impossible to pretend you didn’t notice his efforts.

Despite everything, there was a part of you that still cared for James, a part of you that hated how much you missed the way things had been before the truth came out. It was that small part of you that made it harder to ignore him.

But you tried. You tried not to care. You tried to remind yourself of the hurt, the betrayal. You didn’t want to forgive him… but some days, you found yourself softening, despite everything.

James made sure to keep his distance, always careful to avoid Archie and the rest of your friends. If Archie found out that James was still trying to win back your trust, he’d make sure James regretted it. But James wasn’t doing this for anyone else anymore—not for Sirius, not for Lily. He was doing it for you, hoping that, one day, you might believe in him again.

It was a long process, and you weren’t ready to forgive him completely. But little by little, you began to see glimpses of the James Potter who wasn’t just a reckless boy trying to win a dare. He was something more than that—someone who was genuinely sorry for what he had done.

You still weren’t sure if you could ever fully trust him again. But maybe, just maybe, you could start to forgive him. One small step at a time.

It was a cool, crisp afternoon at Hogwarts, the autumn air biting softly at your skin as you climbed up the empty Quidditch stands. The Gryffindor team had finished their practice a while ago, leaving the pitch quiet, save for the rustling of leaves carried on the wind. You liked coming here after everyone had gone—there was a peace to the open sky and the vastness of the field that made everything else feel distant.

You wrapped your cloak tighter around yourself and settled into one of the seats, letting your eyes wander over the golden leaves scattered across the pitch. For a while, you just sat there, lost in thought, until the sound of someone clearing their throat snapped you out of your reverie.

“Mind if I sit?” James stood at the edge of the row, his broomstick in hand, looking uncharacteristically uncertain. His messy hair was windswept from practice, and there was a tentative smile on his face, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to be near you.

Your heart gave a small jolt. You weren’t used to him being this hesitant around you. “Sure,” you replied softly, gesturing to the spot beside you.

He sat down carefully, leaving a bit of space between you, though the air around him still felt warm and familiar. For a few moments, the two of you sat in silence, both staring out at the empty field. The awkwardness between you was palpable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable—it was more like the calm after a storm, when everything is still fragile, but quiet.

“You used to come to all our games,” James said after a while, his voice low, as though he was afraid of breaking the peace.

“I still do,” you replied, not looking at him. “I just... sit further back now.”

James winced, but nodded. “Yeah, I noticed. Haven’t seen you up close in a while.”

You glanced at him then, catching the way his eyes softened as he looked out at the field. The cocky confidence he’d worn like armor for so long was missing. In its place was something quieter, more genuine.

“I don’t blame you for keeping your distance,” he continued. “I deserve it.”

You hugged your knees closer to your chest, not responding at first. There was still an ache in your heart whenever you thought about what had happened, but the anger was flickering.

“Why do you care so much now?” you asked quietly, your voice almost lost in the wind. “Why are you trying so hard?”

James turned to you, his hazel eyes full of sincerity. “Because I care about you. Really care about you. And I don’t want to be the reason you’re hurt. Not anymore.”

The openness in his voice took you by surprise. You had seen James like this before, but only in fleeting moments. Now, it felt like the bravado had peeled away, leaving someone real beneath the surface.

“You weren’t like this before,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him.

“I know.” James leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I thought I had to be... I don’t know, bigger than life all the time. Like I had to prove something to everyone, especially myself. I’m not proud of that. But you’ve always been real with me, and I wasn’t real with you.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the weight of betrayal as strongly. You felt a little lighter, like maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

“I’m not expecting you to forgive me all at once,” James added, his voice softer now. “But I want to show you that I can be better, for you."

You looked down at your hands, picking at the edge of your sleeve. “It’s just... hard. Trust doesn’t come back that easily, James.”

“I know,” he said, his voice a little rough. “But I’m willing to do whatever it takes, no matter how long it takes.”

You looked at him then, really looked at him, and you could see how much he meant it. There was no smirk, no playful grin—just James, raw and honest. The boy who had been careless with your heart was trying to make amends, and for the first time, you felt like he truly understood the weight of what he’d done.

The wind ruffled his hair, and for a moment, you found yourself smiling softly at the familiar sight. “You’ve got ink on your face,” you said, pointing to a smudge near his temple.

James blinked, touching his face with a confused frown. “What—oh.” He chuckled lightly, his expression sheepish. “I guess I got a bit too into planning out that Transfiguration essay.”

You shook your head with a small laugh, the sound surprising both of you. It wasn’t much, but it was something—a tiny crack in the walls you’d built up.

James seemed to catch the change in your mood and his smile widened, though he didn’t press you further. He leaned back in the seat, his gaze shifting back to the field. “You ever flown before?”

“Once,” you said, shrugging. “I’m not really a fan of heights.”

James grinned, the old spark of mischief flickering in his eyes. “Well, if you ever feel like giving it another go, I’m pretty good at keeping people safe on a broom.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Silence settled between you again, but this time it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable, like an old friendship slowly knitting itself back together. You weren’t sure where things would go from here, but for now, sitting here with James felt... nice.

And maybe that was enough for today.

It had taken weeks to come to a decision. Every day, you had wrestled with the memory of what James had done, how he had played with your heart like it was a game. But, as time went on, you couldn't ignore the fact that James had been trying, truly trying, to make things right. You could see it in the way he no longer sought attention, the way he was quietly helping without expecting anything in return.

Forgiveness was hard, but holding onto anger was harder. And you were tired—tired of the pain, tired of feeling like you were carrying a weight that wouldn’t let go. So, with shaky hands and a racing heart, you left a note on James’s desk:

Meet me by the Black Lake at sunset.

You didn’t write more, unsure how you would feel when the moment came. All you knew was that you had to give him—and yourself—a chance.

When James found the note, his heart nearly stopped. He read it over and over, as if afraid it might disappear before his eyes. You wanted to meet him. His mind raced, a thousand possibilities flickering through his head—was this the moment he had been waiting for? Or was it a final goodbye?

His hands trembled as he pocketed the note, trying to calm himself. He didn’t want to get his hopes up, but for the first time in weeks, a spark of hope flickered in his chest.

As sunset approached, James made his way to the Black Lake, his nerves twisting with every step. And there you were, standing by the water’s edge, your arms wrapped around yourself, lost in thought as you watched the gentle ripples on the surface.

James’s heart skipped a beat. You were beautiful in the fading light, and for a moment, he simply stood there, watching you, gathering the courage to approach.

Finally, he took a breath and stepped forward. “Y/N.”

You turned, your eyes meeting his, he could see the conflict in your gaze—the hurt that still lingered, but also the kindness that had always been part of you.

You took a deep breath, glancing out at the lake before speaking again. “I’ve been thinking a lot, James. About everything. About how much I was hurt… but also about how you’ve changed.”

James stayed silent, afraid to interrupt, afraid to break the fragile moment you were sharing.

“I’m might be angry,” you admitted, your voice steady. “But I don’t want to hold onto that forever. I don’t want to carry this weight anymore.”

James looked down, his heart heavy with the guilt of everything he had put you through. “I know I hurt you,” he said quietly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but… I swear, Y/N, I would do anything to fix this.”

You turned to face him fully, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know if things will ever be the same, James. But I want to try. I want to give you a chance… to prove that this isn’t just another game.”

James’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You mean… you’re giving me another chance?”

You nodded slowly. “Yes. But it’s not going to be easy, James. Trust takes time to rebuild.”

For a moment, James stood frozen, processing your words. Then, without thinking, he stepped forward, gently cupping your face in his hands. His touch was warm, and careful, like he was afraid you might pull away. He gazed into your eyes, his own filled with an intensity that made your heart skip.

“I swear to you, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I will never, ever hurt you like that again. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that I’m worth trusting. I promise.”

Your breath caught in your throat, the warmth of his hands on your cheeks grounding you as your heart fluttered in your chest. You could feel the truth in his words, the genuine regret and longing behind them. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you believed him.

Slowly, almost instinctively, you leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment as the tension between you melted away. When you opened your eyes again, James was still watching you, his gaze filled with hope and affection.

For a moment, everything felt right. You were standing by the lake, the world around you peaceful and quiet, and for the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to feel that flicker of warmth you had tried so hard to ignore.

But just as you thought things might finally fall into place, a voice cut through the serene air like a blade.

“What the hell is this?”

Your heart dropped as you turned to see Archie storming toward you, his face twisted in anger. He had seen you together. James dropped his hands from your face, stepping back, but Archie was already closing the distance between you.

“Y/N, get out of the way,” Archie growled, his eyes locked on James. “I’m not letting him get away with this again.”

“You’ve got some nerve, Potter,” Archie growled, his fists clenched as he glared at James. “What did I tell you? You think you can just worm your way back into her life after what you did?”

James didn’t fight back, his hands raised in defense. “Archie, I swear, it’s not like that. I’m not trying to hurt her.”

“Not trying to hurt her?” Archie spat, his voice rising. “You’ve already done enough damage!”

“Archie, stop!” you shouted, stepping between them before Archie could throw a punch. You placed a hand on his chest, trying to push him back. “Please, just listen to me.”

Archie looked down at you, his face still twisted with anger. “Y/N, why are you defending him? After everything he did?”

“I know what he did,” you said firmly, your voice steady. “But he’s changed, Archie. He’s been trying—really trying—to make things right.”

Archie shook his head, his fists still balled. “And you believe him? After all that?”

You took a deep breath, your eyes locked on Archie’s. “Yes. I believe him. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t.”

Archie’s jaw clenched, his fists still balled at his sides. “And what if you’re wrong? What if he breaks your heart all over again?”

You shook your head, your voice steady. “He won’t. I know he won’t.”

For a long moment, Archie said nothing, his chest rising and falling with deep, angry breaths. He looked between you and James, his jaw tight, clearly torn between wanting to protect you and the growing frustration of watching you forgive James.

Finally, Archie exhaled sharply, stepping back and dropping his fists. “Fine,” he muttered, his voice low. “But if he so much as looks at you the wrong way—”

“I know,” you interrupted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You’ll beat him to a pulp.”

Archie gave James one last threatening glare before turning back to you. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I will be,” you said, looking back at James, who stood there, relief flooding his features. “I will be.”

Archie sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to walk away, muttering something under his breath about "keeping an eye on Potter." As he disappeared into the distance, you turned back to James, who was still watching you with a mixture of gratitude and awe.

“Thank you,” James said softly, stepping closer to you once more. “I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

You smiled up at him, the warmth of his presence calming the nervous flutter in your chest. “Just don’t make me regret it, Potter.”

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice filled with sincerity. And this time, you believed him.

It had been a few days since the Black Lake, since that quiet moment where you'd taken the first step toward forgiving James. You hadn’t fully worked through everything yet, but the weight on your chest had lightened, if only slightly. James, true to his word, had been patient. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding more than you were ready to give.

One evening, after dinner, you found yourself sitting by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, enjoying the warmth while trying to focus on your Herbology notes. You had just managed to start working through a particularly tricky chapter when a shadow fell over your table.

“Hey,” a familiar voice said softly.

You looked up and saw James standing there, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, his expression almost shy. It was a look you were still getting used to—the quiet James, the one without the cocky grin and the easy swagger. The one who didn’t assume you’d always want to talk to him.

“Hi,” you replied, offering a small smile.

He rocked slightly on his heels, glancing around the common room before returning his gaze to you. “I was wondering if… maybe you’d like to go for a walk?”

A walk? It seemed harmless enough. And you had to admit, the idea of stepping out into the cool night air sounded appealing after being cooped up with your books for hours.

You nodded, closing your notes. “Sure.”

James blinked in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected you to say yes. But he quickly recovered, grinning in that soft, hopeful way he had started to smile recently. “Great. Let’s go.”

You followed him out of the common room, the portrait of the Fat Lady swinging closed behind you as the castle corridors opened up before you. The two of you walked in comfortable silence for a few moments, your footsteps echoing off the stone floors.

The evening was quiet, with most students settling in for the night. When you reached the castle doors, James paused, opening one of them and holding it for you. The cold air rushed in, crisp and clean, carrying the scent of grass and earth. You stepped outside, feeling the refreshing chill against your skin, and James fell into step beside you as you wandered down the path that led toward the Black Lake.

The moon hung high in the sky, casting a silver glow over the water. The stars twinkled like distant diamonds, and the soft rustling of leaves in the breeze made the night feel alive with gentle magic. It was peaceful here, under the sky, with the world around you so calm.

James cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “You know… I’ve missed this,” he said quietly, glancing over at you. “Being able to just… be with you.”

You looked at him, noticing how the moonlight softened his features. His eyes, normally so full of mischief, were now earnest, searching yours for some kind of reassurance.

“I’ve missed it too,” you admitted, surprising even yourself. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed these moments, before everything had fallen apart—when James was just a boy who made you laugh, who listened to you, who made you feel seen.

James smiled, but it wasn’t his usual grin—it was softer, more thoughtful. “I know things aren’t the same,” he said, kicking a pebble with the tip of his shoe as you both walked. “And I know I’ve got a long way to go before… before you can really trust me again. But I’m going to keep trying. Every day, I’m going to keep trying.”

There was something about the way he said it that made your heart swell—this wasn’t the cocky, arrogant James who once thought he could charm his way through life. This was the James who was willing to work for it, who understood that he had to earn your trust back, one small step at a time.

“I appreciate that,” you said softly, your gaze drifting over the calm surface of the lake. “I really do.”

For a while, you both fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. It was nice—just walking together, the cool night air wrapping around you both. You weren’t sure what it was, but something about this moment felt right. Maybe you weren’t fully healed yet, but you were beginning to believe that healing was possible.

After a few more minutes of walking, James stopped, turning to face you with a look of hesitant curiosity. “Can I ask you something?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Depends what it is.”

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “It’s not bad, I promise. I just… I was wondering if—if maybe you’d like to come to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

You blinked, surprised by the question. He had asked it so simply, without any of his usual flair. It wasn’t a demand or an assumption. It was just a question—a genuine one, filled with hope but no expectation.

“You don’t have to say yes,” James added quickly, seeing the hesitation in your eyes. “I know things are still… complicated. But I’d love to spend some time with you outside of… all this.”

You thought about it for a moment. You weren’t sure if you were ready for anything that felt like a date—not yet. But Hogsmeade was harmless, wasn’t it? A day out, something simple, something that could help rebuild the trust you were slowly finding again.

After a moment, you nodded. “Sure,”

James’ face lit up, his eyes widening in surprise. “Really?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his reaction. “Really.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You nodded, feeling a strange flutter in your stomach. You weren’t sure what was going to happen, or where this new path with James would lead. But for the first time in a long time, you felt like maybe—just maybe—it was worth finding out.

As you continued walking beside him, the moonlight casting gentle shadows across the path, you realized that this moment, right here, was a beginning. Not a fresh start, but a continuation—something that had been broken but was slowly, carefully, being put back together.

And maybe, just maybe, you could learn to trust James again.

One small step at a time.

[3hks]

How to Write the "Black Cat" Character

A trope that's becoming increasingly popular right now is the "Black Cat and Golden Retriever" dynamic! And with good reason: their opposition in character makes such a cute and fun relationship! So today, let's explore the "Black Cat" character and how to write them!

OVERVIEW

The Black Cat is known to be introverted and can seem harsh at times; they tend to avoid people and might not talk a lot. They also dislike showing vulnerability or sensitivity, which results in their genuine emotions getting concealed more often than not. In general, they aren't great at dealing with other people.

DIALOGUE

In general, the "Black Cat" is not known for making a lot of friends and getting along with everyone. One of the main reasons for this is because of their communication, which we'll explore!

**SUBTEXT**

Like I said, this character archetype is not honest about their true feelings towards people. When talking, they have a tendency to avoid or lie about the topics they may find sensitive or don't want to share. Thus, their dialogue isn't all that reliable.

So instead, subtext is the key to portraying their emotions.

They could lie and say, "I'm not scared", but their tenseness and darting eyes betray their words, offering the truth without speaking. Those actions are the subtext.

This creates a contrast between their words and their actions, forming a more dimensional person! I'm not saying that they're dishonest all the time, but they will absolutely make something up if they have to, which makes communication with them just that much harder.

**SPEECH PATTERNS**

Everyone has their distinct speech patterns, and this trope is no different! The "Black Cat" is concise and terse with their speech. They're the type to respond with short, curt answers, which makes holding a conversation difficult because they don't feel the need to butter up their words. As a result, they can be quite blunt.

Obviously, that can pose a problem.

Additionally, more often than not, they're unaware of their ruthless honesty and/or struggle to understand why it could hurt someone.

On the other hand, they may say stuff they do not mean (much like word vomit), which can also be hurtful.

Tone-wise, they tend to have a blanker manner of speaking. Not necessarily in an emotionless way, but they speak more to get their point across than to express their emotions. So naturally, their tone is more consistently calm (or even cold) and involves less emotion.

Lastly, there's vocabulary. These characters are unlikely to use slang and generally don't stutter. They might have a richer vocabulary but also may not show it off when talking.

PERSONALITY

Let's break down some of the standard characteristics of this trope!

**FLAWS**

Blunt

Stubborn (Unwilling to accept help)

Closed off

Lack of communication skills

Struggles with empathy

Sometimes (unnecessarily) mean

Cold/Apathetic

**VIRTUES**

Intelligent

Analytical

Unbiased (Unless it the "Golden Retriever" is involved)

Highly skilled (Or a wide range)

Independent

Responsible

**GENERALIZED TROPES**

Tsundere

Apathetic

Mean/Cold

This is just a quick overview of their characters as a whole; the tsundere generally is softer compared to the other two. Although they act disinterested, they care deep down. On the other hand, an apathetic is one that strongly lacks empathy and emotions. They typically don't care about anything and may or may not be mean--it's up to you! And finally, there's the mean/cold type. Obviously, they have more hostile tendencies but sometimes it's a defense system in which they have no control over.

If you can't tell, this archetype is introverted with a more neutral temperament (it depends on how you write them, but the point is that they aren't all sparkles and butterflies). Most of their struggle consists of connecting with other people and building on that relationship. Normally, this is because they may feel that others weigh them down--especially if they themselves are gifted--or that they don't need anyone else because they can sustain themselves just fine. However, when they are close with someone, they're protective, if not overprotective of them.

**CHARACTER**

Another important aspect to keep in mind is that because the "Black Cat" won't show as much emotion and is considerably more serious, this character can easily seem too robotic. So how do we avoid this? We give them some more personal traits!

For starters, slowly establish any fears and/or weaknesses that your character has. The fact that they have their own vulnerabilities demonstrates that they are still human while adding some depth! I also suggest including backstory and dreams to build onto the dimension.

Following that, when they do open up, I recommend not skimping out when it comes to describing the importance of the moment! It doesn't have to be every time, but it allows you to demonstrate the value of their honest expression! Yes, it's mainly just for fun and fluff, but it doesn't hurt to be a bit dramatic about their elusive smile or laugh!

To finish up, the point of view the story takes place in is also crucial. If you're telling it from the "Black Cat's" POV, you have more access to their thoughts, which is pivotal when developing the character. However, they may be less self-aware about how their demeanor affects others.

On the flip side, if you're telling the story through the eyes of the "Golden Retriever", you get to establish how the other looks from someone else's angle and how they handle such a character.

Personally, I prefer to switch the perspective from time to time to get the full picture!

RELATIONSHIP

Here's the fun part! How does the "Black Cat" and "Golden Retriever" trope really function?

Most of the BC's character development actually happens around their partner or loved ones. This is because alone, they have no reason to change and they're perfectly fine with how they're functioning. However, with the GR, they must put in more effort into communication, opening up, asking for help, etc.

That slowly builds character development!

As expected, in their relationship, the BC is the most reliable and organized of the two, balancing out the GR's more reckless nature. Part of their enjoyability is the sheer opposition in their persona, but they should also break out-of-character for each other every once in a while.

What do I mean?

Well, like I mentioned before, although the BC is stoic and distanced, they should be willing to express their vulnerabilities and might even act uncharacteristically shy with their partner. Conversely, the happy and loveable GR may have serious moments when concerning their loved ones. That's how you can tell they do care about each other and that's what makes this dynamic so cute!

CONCLUSION

To summarize, the "Black Cat" is terrible at dealing with emotions and communication. As a result, their actions speak louder than words, so subtext is vital when their writing dialogue! Most of their development happens around their partner--not everything will change, but that's the beauty of this character!

Guys, I'm SO, SO sorry for uploading less recently; school is a mess right now so I'm trying my best to make it up! Homework is getting a bit overwhelming, and my tennis season is starting so I'm still trying to figure things out. With that being said, fall break is only a week away and I understand very well now that I need to prepare beforehand 😅 I genuinely apologize, and I'll working hard to clean my schedule up!

On a separate note, I appreciate all the asks I've been getting, it makes me so happy, so if you need something, please reach out! Thank you so much for making it all the way to the end, expect a post on writing "Golden Retrievers" soon! ;)

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[jrueships]

wish there was a way i could just automatically block people complaining about their sports bets associated with the player im searching up on Twitter bcs idgaf

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

[goldsainz]

❝ SO LONG, MONACO ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . use of y/n (once, i think), cursing, a whole load of angst, charles is an asshole, rushed ending, barely proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . you love monaco, but it has run its course just like your relationship has.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i am obsessed with ttpd, i don’t care what anyone has to say, it was a masterpiece and i will not take criticism about it. this is based on so long, london i really recommend listening to this while reading, or just listening to it in general if you need a good cry. i have been writing this for months now, so i hope you guys like it and please dont mind the ending it was the best i could do 😔💙

[ word count: 3,4k ]

You walked through the streets of Monaco, mystified by how bright the city looked even in the night. The street lights were enchanting to witness, and the chatter of people made you appreciate the small country even more. So private, yet so lively, like a hidden spot you had loved so much you just had to make it your home. 

The walk to Charles’ apartment is more calming than expected, you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ve been pulling at a thread that is almost undone. No matter how hard you tried, there was no use in pulling him tighter when he had already pulled out of the relationship.

You were, in all honesty, tired. 

You swore your back almost hurt from all the efforts you made to keep him with you. It’s like you both had settled for conformity, for the monotony of not bothering to do anything. You were together for the sole sake of how harder it would be to separate, but not because of the love you had for the other, simply because of the aftermath of breaking up after 6 years of relationship. Moving out, telling your friends and family, the whole world scrutinizing what went down when really nothing had gone down. There was nothing that could go down, to begin with. 

Your relationship had become more of a commodity, one that was draining you while your boyfriend continued his life like nothing was going on. Maybe that was your problem, you simply cared too much. 

And so you stopped trying to make him laugh. Stopped making those small efforts that had amounted to hundreds of gestures that went unnoticed by him. Maybe you were selfish for that, for wanting his undivided attention to things that weren’t that great. After all, he had his own things to wallow over, things that were simply greater than you.

You tried to blame Ferrari. Ferrari that always was the topic of conversation. “Can you believe they made pit so late?” Yes, I can. “Do you think I’m putting to much faith in the team?” Yes, you are. You don’t tell Charles all the things you should, you share his sadness and give him a shoulder to cry on, just to receive that small amount of affection. 

His sadness gives you the taste of what once was and now isn’t. You can’t find in yourself to blame him for becoming dependent on Ferrari, because haven’t you become the same way for him?

It isn’t long before your walk is over, and you have to face the moment you want to dread, but instead there is relief that surges in your heart. A feeling you resent but equally embrace. 

You step into the elevator, pressing the button for his apartment that you wonder when you decided to let everything go on for as long as it did. That is something you incriminate Charles for. Did he really think you’d be willing to stand in the rain for him forever? Eternally condemned to wallow his sadness, were you supposed to be sad for as long as he was? And for a while you did, you shared his sadness but you didn’t have much more in you to give him. There was only so much pity you could feel, so much empathy you were willing to subject yourself to. 

The elevator rings, a sign that you should get off and take whatever is yours and get away from Monaco.

You put the key in the keyhole, and enter what once was your home and now looks almost like a staged apartment, ready to be shown off and sold to the highest bidder. It feels eerie, what once was so familiar is now a distant memory you’re ready to get over.

Most of the boxes are all closed and ready to be sent away, with a few things left in shelves and drawers. You remember calling your family and asking if you could stay with them a few days, you felt ashamed at how you left everything behind just to come back to it so unexpectedly. 

“Chérie, you don’t have to leave. I can stay with Joris until you find your own place.” no more ma chérie, just chérie. It seemed you’d both unconsciously already made the graves for your relationship. 

“This is your place, Charles. I’m not going to kick you out of it.” you smoothly respond, trying to focus on taking whatever is left on the shelf by the TV. 

Your hand brushes against an old photo of the two of you. His hands around your waist, you looking up at him with a huge smile on your face, with Monaco as the landscape behind you. 

“This was our place, I don’t even—” he stops himself, like it pains him to say whatever is on his mind, resigned he sighs and changes his answer, “I might have to sell this, it’s too big for just me anyway.” 

The implication of his words would have sent you down a spiral a few months ago, now you don’t even reminisce on the what-if.

“Either way, I’ve already arranged a place to stay. I really don’t want to inconvenience you, this is your home not mine.” you say, and you watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes dim, but it is too late now to go back. You’re both too far gone. 

“Okay, then.” he sighs, and although you’ve made peace with the end of your relationship you want him to fight for you. It is his nonchalant way of going about life that makes you mad, and what sealed the fate of whatever remains of your relationship were left.

You’ve fought so hard and for so long, you want to make him feel what you felt. Retribution comes to you in his resignation, and yet it is simply not enough for your greedy, broken heart.

It pisses you off how so much of your youth he got to witness, how he got all the special moments of your life and now you cannot even recognise the girl you once were. All those dreams, all that naïveté, has long since died and is now buried in Monaco.

“It’s late and I’m really tired, so tomorrow morning I’ll have them pick up and ship off my things.” 

“Where are you staying?” he tries to be casual, tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but fails to do so because you know him too well. He fears you know him better than anyone ever has. 

“A hotel nearby,” you easily answer, 

Don’t let me go.

A beat passes, he opens his mouth and closes it shortly after, like he’s not sure what to say or how to act.

Please, don’t let me go. 

“Do you need me to take you there?”

“No, I’m okay, it’s a short walk from here.”

And so you put away the few things you were holding, brushing past him like he’s a stranger in the street. You’ve seemingly packed up your whole life in a few boxes, and you feel oddly calm about it. Hopeful about the future, all resentment you could have has turned into motivation. 

You seal the last open box, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. There are no scores to settle, no need for revenge, this chapter of your life has been sealed and you are ready to continue with whatever the story of your life has prepared for you.

“Text me when you get to the hotel, yes?” you pause at his words, and a part of you wants to curse him out for being the way he is, because despite everything he is a kind man. You just wish he could've been as kind to the old you as he is to the current you. And you wonder why you're given all this kindness, when you have both your feet out the door and every single remainder of your love has been tucked away. It is not fair, but nothing really is when it comes to love.

“Sure,” you say as you nod, a small smile gracing your face, though you're sure it looks close to a grimace. 

You walk out of the apartment, leaving your copy of the keys on the table next to the door. As it closes, you let out a sigh and go out the same you came in, calm and collected. With the broken, bloody pieces of your heart in his hands and you with the same blue heart of his you know so well.

You don’t text Charles when you make it to the hotel. 

You twist and turn in your bedsheets, not being able to sleep once again. You can't remember the last time you had a good night's sleep. And so you do what you've been doing for months, you go over every step and stone of your relationship.

Although sleep doesn’t consume you, the memories do. Those unforgiving, wretched memories about the downfall of your relationship. As you lie awake, the weight of your thoughts presses down on you, each recollection sharper and more painful than the last. 

You reminisce on the brighter days, filled with laughter and pure love, where every touch was like electricity on your skin and every word a promise of a future together. You recall all those moments you fought to make him laugh, to bring back the warmth that had once been effortless. But those bright memories are quickly overshadowed by the darker ones— the fights that grew more frequent, the silences that stretched longer, the love that slowly turned to resentment. 

Every detail is vivid in your mind— he look in his eyes as he drifted away, the chill that settled in your bones each night he didn't fall asleep beside you. You replay the conversations, the accusations, the desperate attempts to salvage whatever was left. But despite your efforts, the spirit of the relationship was long gone, leaving behind a shell of what once was.

As the memories flood back, you feel the anger and sadness welling up inside you. You gave so much of yourself, your youth, your energy, only to be left with the empty shell of a broken dream. You think about how he swore that he loved you, yet the proof was never there. 

You recall that last fight, by then the stitches of your relationship had come undone, the fabric of your shared experience torn beyond repair. There was nothing left to cling onto, nothing more than your delusion and the memories you held close to your heart. 

“Mon amour, why did you stay awake? You know how long I take at the factory.” he whispers, almost cooing at you but also filled with exhaustion. Like you being awake is another burden you're placing on him, now that he has to deal with your awakened mind. 

“Couldn’t fall asleep, I guess.” you answer, playing with the ends of your hair, not daring to look at him. 

You watch as he places his stuff on the ground, taking off his shirt and entering the bathroom to wash his face and prepare for sleep. It is quite a shame you have no intentions of sleeping, or to let the misery you're living through go on.

“I’ll join you in just a moment,” he calls out from the bathroom, his voice muffled from the ajar door between you.

“Okay,” is all you come up with, all you can muster to respond.

The silence in the apartment grew heavy. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to echo through the room, each second stretching out into eternity. 

As you listened to the sound of water running, you traced patterns on the bedsheets with trembling hands. You couldn’t shake the feeling of suffocation, of being trapped in a life that wasn’t quite yours. The dreams you once nurtured seemed distant, obscured by the everyday struggles and compromises.

When Charles emerged from the bathroom, the lines of fatigue etched deeper into his face. His eyes met yours briefly before he turned away, pulling a worn t-shirt and slipping under the covers beside her. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, yet you could see the coldness that he seemed to reserve especially for you. He made no effort to kiss you, to hold you, those miniscule actions were like finding gold nowadays.

It was now or never, you had decided. You had gained courage all day to finally speak your mind, the least he could do is listen and try to fight for you. For the remains of your love that hadn’t yet dusted away.

“You know,” you begin tentatively, your voice almost shaky with emotion, “it feels like we’re drifting apart. I miss us, Charles.”

He turned to you sharply, eyes flashing with something like shock and annoyance. “I’m tired, Y/N. Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“But we never talk about it!” you exclaimed, frustration boiling over. “Every day, it’s the same thing. You come home late, exhausted, and we pretend everything’s okay. But it's not okay! It hasn’t been for a long time, and I need more than this.”

He sighs heavily, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Sure you are,” you retort back, voice tinged with bitterness. You knew he would dismiss your feelings, but it still stung.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m always second, Charles.” you retort, “I stay awake each night wondering if you still care, if there is even some part of you that misses me like I miss you.”

“You always find something to complain about, don’t you?” he turns to you with his eyes narrowed, “You know how much I’m dealing with Ferrari, I thought you’d have some empathy for me, at least.”

“I’m not complaining, Charles. I’m trying to talk to you!” your frustration has now reached its peak, “I miss us. I miss the days when we actually talked, when you actually listened.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says, ignoring your words once more. “Do you think this lifestyle pays for itself? Because, news flash, it doesn’t. You signed up for this, don’t put this on me now.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” you ask, resigned to your situation and the emotions that have overtaken you, “You're never here, Charles. I feel like I’m living with a stranger instead of the man I fell in love with.”

“Well, maybe if you didn't make everything so difficult,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He doesn't dare to look at you, he can't bear to see the expression on your face.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes, a mix of anger and hurt washing over you. “I’m not making things difficult. I’m asking for us to work on our relationship, to make time for each other.”

“I don’t have time,” Charles shot back, his voice cold and distant. “This is the life we have now. Deal with it.”

“Is this really what you want?” you demand, your voice rising. “A relationship where we just coexist, where we’re barely holding on?”

He turns away from you again, his silence cuts deeper than any words ever could. You feel the despair, the realizations sinking in that your relationship might be beyond repair.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking with emotion.

“Then what do you expect me to do?” he retorted, his frustration matching yours.

“I expect you to fight for us, Charles!” you exclaimed, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I expect you to care enough to try.”

He doesn’t respond, the silence a stark reminder of how far you had both drifted apart. You wiped your tears away, feeling the weight of your crumbling relationship pressing down on your chest.

“If you can’t even talk to me, then maybe we’re already done.” you say quietly, the finality of your words hanging in the air.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t reach out to you. You turned away from him, curling up on your side of the bed, feeling the emptiness of your once vibrant love surrounding you. As you stared into the darkness, you wondered if you had reached the end, if this was all the closure you would get.

As you laid there, enveloped in the silence that now seemed thicker than ever, you realised that something inside you had shifted irreversibly. The pain of his indifference cut deep, but so did the clarity that you couldn’t continue living forever like this, forever under the blue of his days.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, you couldn’t bear it any longer. With a shaky breath, you gathered your resolve and spoke softly into the darkness, voice trembling with both sadness and determination.

“I think… I need some time,” you began, your words tentative yet resolute. “Time to figure out what I want and what’s best for me.”

He turned to you then, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and resignation. “What are you saying?”

You struggled to find the right words. “I’m saying… I’m saying that I’m done, Charles. I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not. I deserve more than this.” 

His expression hardened, a flicker of frustrations crossing his face. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” you shot back, “I’ve been fighting for us for so long, but you… you're not even here, I can’t keep begging for your attention, for your love.”

Charles doesn't respond immediately, his silence echoing loudly in the room. You felt a wave of sorrow wash over you as you realized that your love had turned into a battlefield of neglect and misunderstanding.

“I thought we could fix this,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe we could have,” your heart breaks with every word you utter. “But it’s too late now, I’m exhausted, Charles. I’m exhausted from trying to pretend like you care and for trying to fix something beyond repair.”

He sits up at your words, finally looking at you, the weight of your failed relationship heavy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, mon ange. I never meant for it to end like this.”

“Neither did I,” you replied softly, “But I can’t keep living like this. I deserve happiness. We both do.” he reached out to touch your hand, but you gently pulled away, the gesture feeling hollow now.

You sat there in silence, you knew that walking away would be the hardest thing you had ever done, but you also knew it was the only way forward.

Without another word, you stood up from the bed. Looking at him, the man you loved with all your heart but who had drifted away from you.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” you tell Charles, and he doesn’t fight you, just wordlessly nods and longingly looks at you as you step away and into your living room.

You stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the city that had been your home for so long. The cobblestone streets, the azure waters, and the gentle hum of luxury. This place, once your sanctuary, now felt like a prison of memories that had soured with time. A reminder of a love that couldn't withstand the weight of reality.

Outside, the familiar sights and sounds of Monaco stirred memories that tugged at your heart— lazy afternoons by the beach, candlelit dinners overlooking the harbour, stolen kisses beneath the starlit sky.

But today, as the plane ticket lay on the table beside your suitcase, you knew it was time to leave Monaco behind. Despite the love you once felt for this place, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest, the realisation that your time here had run its course.

As you walked out of the hotel and down the winding cobblestone streets towards the waiting car you had called, you allowed a tear to trickle down your cheek because despite everything you really fucking loved Monaco. For so, so long.

But you’ll find somewhere new.

[ftmtftm]

as a brown woman, i think one of the reasons for this is the refusal to understand (in this example particularly i'll use race, but i think this could be applied to other forms of oppression) the reality of the oppression men of color face, and the insistence on viewing oppression as disparate.

my dad and brother have told me many stories about how much their emotions are policed at work. my dad raises his voice the slightest bit or doesn't come off jovial and pleasant, and people get upset and feel threatened by him. there's a post i've seen before where a black man says something similar, in response to a woman saying 'men will never know what it's like to worry about having rbf.' he was saying how he very much does, or the white people around him will make negative assumptions he's then responsible for. it is something that these two marginalized groups share, but there's backlash whenever it gets brought up because i think a lot of cis women cling to the idea that certain things are a "woman's experience" and feel threatened when marginalized men can relate to them. which men are the default? which women are the other? the default male experience has never been something the men in my family can relate to because their race precludes them from doing so. the 'othered' experience of women is often not something i can relate to, because the loudest voices about it are white women being othered by white men.

in reality, oppression often functions in similar ways, even with different groups, and bonding and forming solidarity in that is a great way to bring awareness to it. but that requires people to get over themselves and their own conceptions of victims and oppressors, which is much harder than it seems to be.

YES !!!! Yes exactly, you've hit the nail on the head.

Especially at the very end, because honestly? I think it requires a decent amount of personal healing, carefully practiced empathy, and a bit of ego death to get to that point and it's really hard to do that when you're also actively in a marginalized position yourself.

It's a big task asking people who are hurt to find solidarity with each other because we live in a culture that actively discourages that for several reasons - very systemically. Particularly with feminism it's extremely difficult because Radfem "universal female experience / female utopia" isolationism (and even going back farther, the First Wave as a whole) severed a lot of those opportunities for solidarity early on and we have to pick up the broken pieces to try and mend them now.

[eldritchcreatureofwords]

So, here's the thing. It's not just about control or appearances, about Blitz being a lying liar who lies about being a top.

Let's do an experiment for a moment. You are Blitz. You have just been through two really shitty days.

Your situationship / friends with benefits just dumped a crap ton of emotional shit on you, didn't give you even a second to process any of it, and then broke up with you when you didn't react the way he thought you should. Then proceeded to stonewall you when you try to talk the next day, go to a party that is explicitly and blatantly a bully party thrown by a bunch of people who hate you, enjoy himself at this party, and finally hook up with another guy.

A guy who hates you.

You have been told in no uncertain terms by two or more people that you are a piece of shit, told to give up on and let go of your ex situationship even though you think you might have feelings for him, and offered no support, compassion, or empathy whatsoever.

Being Blitz, you've never reached out for it because you don't think you deserve it. You feel you fully deserve everything that has ever happened to you for the past two days, because none of those people at that party could possibly hate you more than you hate yourself.

Your confidence is shattered. The one thing you have always been very good at besides killing people, which is fucking, has been mocked, degraded, and rejected.

The one way you know how to connect to people, show your love and affection for people, and prove your worth to people has been rejected by the person who ostensibly used to adore it.

Add to this that you are constantly exposed to two people who have the one thing you want more than anything, but don't think you deserve or should have. You are bitterly, viciously jealous of them and their love for each other, wanting to share in it but knowing it's not for you and that you don't deserve something like that anyway. You are drowning, floundering, and struggling, and you don't know where to turn or what to do.

Your opinion of yourself has rarely been lower. And so you try to bury yourself and work. You do your jobs, you try to pretend to be normal, you move on with your life and try to just exist as per usual as if none of this shit has happened.

And then on one job, quite possibly here first after the worst two nights in a while, you find yourself and your team in a life-threatening situation. You are unable to defend or protect them, and then your only way out, which has thus far cooperated flawlessly with you, stops working. And there is nothing you can do to make it work again.

As they watch, judging you, you flounder, fight, and struggle with it, having to admit that you don't really know what you're doing. And you can feel them. Watching. Judging. Wondering how you fucked this up.

Wondering how you're so God damn incompetent.

Wondering how you keep getting the most simple shit wrong.

So you get stressed and anxious. But of course, means that you fuck up even harder and it works even less well.

You start making simple mistakes at basic things like the alphabet, which is difficult anyway because reading and language is difficult for you. You can feel the judgment from them for that, too.

Why are you so stupid?

How was this hard?

And the questions start bouncing around in YOUR head, too.

Why are you locking up?

Why isn't this working?

This is not hard. This shouldn't be hard.

So why can't you do it?

Why can't you just be smarter?

Be more gentle?

Be stronger?

Be kinder?

Why can't you just do better?

Are you ever, ever, enough?

No wonder your father hated you. You're just a giant screw up.

Anytime it matters, you can't pull it off.

You've experianced this before, time and again.

And now, you're in the situation once more. Yet again, with eyes on you and people waiting for you to do the right thing to get results, you can't.

And then, as has always been in your life, someone who was better than you get tired of your floundering, steps in, and gets it done effortlessly.

Yeah, seeing something familiar here?

A common thread between Cash, and Blitz's life in the circus, and what just happened in Antarctica?

I don't know what's worse.

That Blitz was very likely full on triggered in the scene, having a panic attack on top of the emotional distress he was already in from what happened with Stolas, or that Moxxie and Millie didn't notice.

[bimbo-baggins17]

Backdoor Promises: Sam Monroe

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

CW: MDNI!! 18+!! Dubcon, noncon, manipulation, unprotected sex, anal, p in v, please for the love of god do not go back to front like this!, afab!anatomy, use of petnames, Sam calls himself daddy

A/N: idk this was just something to get over my writer’s block:) also idk why I write for Sam so much.

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

“C’mon..I promise, princess. It’s not actually sex. You’d still be a virgin.” Sam tries to convince you still for the umpteenth time.

You fidget nervously with the hem of your skirt, “I..I don’t know Sammy..won’t it hurt?”

He sighs, “Don’t you want to make me happy?” He gives you a pout and his best puppy dog eyes as he trails a finger up and down your arm softly.

It’s hard to tell him no. And that’s how you find yourself on all fours on his bed, tears streaming down your face that’s pushed into his flat pillows.

“S-stop Sam..it hurts..” You sniffle.

He continues to inch himself into your tight little asshole that’s slowly accommodating his length. He shakes his head, not like you could see anyways. “No..can’t do that..you’re almost there..it’s ok..” His words are clipped as he exhales through his nose.

You try to pull away but his hands grip tighter onto your hips, locking you in place. He tuts, “Stay still…promise it’ll be worth it..” He eases more of himself into you. Your cries grow louder as the pain intensifies, clutching onto the old sheets under you so tightly your knuckles are turning white.

If he wasn’t thinking with his dick, he’d feel bad over your sounds of pain but god your tight little hole was squeezing him so hard he felt like he could cum any second.

As he stuffs more of his thick cock into you, your body involuntarily jerks away again. He grips the back of your neck harshly and shoves your face harder into the pillows. “I said stay still,” He grits out, “fuck..t’s so tight..” The sounds of your muffled protests only seem to spur him on further. “..just be a good girl and take it. Make daddy happy, baby.”

Slowly your puckered hole eases more to accommodate for him and gradually that sharp stinging blurs into an intense pleasure. Sam’s ears perk up hearing your sniffles turn into little whimpers of enjoyment. He makes note of how your feet cross over one another at the ankles. He grins to himself slowly starting to roll his hips into you. “See? That’s much better.” He coos, leaning down to press a kiss to your spine.

Thats the last bit of tenderness you get before he’s ramming into your wrinkled hole mercilessly. Your body trembles under him. He can feel your slick dripping out of your pussy and down his legs. He knows he promised he’d just use your asshole but he can’t help himself and he dips two of his thick digits between your folds.

You yelp and shake your head against the pillows, “Mmph…you promised Sammy..”

He tuts, “I know Princess I know, I’m not doing anything wrong…fingers don’t count baby.”

If he wasn’t balls deep in your asshole maybe you’d think clearer but that’s not the case. He ruts into you over and over again, feeling your pussy practically drooling onto him. He barely had any willpower to begin with. He grips tighter on your hips in preparation of what he’s about to do.

Sam lets himself get a few hard thrusts in before slipping all the way out and just ramming his dick into your tight virgin pussy earning a loud mewl from you as you jerk away. You try to push him off, whining about how he promised and how you wanted to remain a virgin.

He shakes his head, breathing heavy, “I know princess, I know…just slipped..’m sorry,” He says with feigned empathy, but it didn’t stop him from beginning to grind himself into your gummy walls. “…can’t stop now..feels too good…’sides…your little pussy wants it. Can tell.” He gets the words out between panted breaths.

You hate that it feels good and that your protests fall at your lips to be replaced with moans of pleasure. “There she is..” Sam coos feeling as your pussy relaxes more now. “..good girl…”

“J-just don’t..cum in me..please..” You ask him, the words a bit muffled by the sheets.

“I won’t…promise..” You shouldn’t trust him though. He’s already broken all his other promises in the span of minutes. But it feels so good and you can’t help but to rock back against him.

“Fuck…there you go baby..” He praises and it makes your walls flutter around him.

The soft squelching spurs him on more, letting instinct take over and he pounds mercilessly into you from behind. He feels like he’s gonna burst any second. Sam snakes a hand between your legs, finding your little clit and rubbing it. He might be selfish but he at least wants you to get off too.

“S-Sammy!!” You moan, feeling a new kind of warmth washing over you, your whole body shaking.

“Let go baby..’ts okay..I got you..”

He feels your pussy clenching tightly around his cock making it hard to move. Sam’s balls scrunch up before he’s dumping his load in you. You’re too disoriented riding out your first orgasm to realize that he’s gone back on yet another promise. He slips out of you with a grunt. He kisses your lower back sweetly, “Good girl..” He murmurs.

You feel something dripping out of you and it takes you a second to process it before your eyes widen and you’re whipping around to glare at him over your shoulder. “Sam!” You scold feebly.

“Sorry princess. Your pretty pussy was asking for it.”

☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆…━━━━━·:*☆

Liked this? Check out my other work here

[writing-with-moss]

“Valkyrie?”, “yep, that’s my girl.” Pt. 1

(Authors note!) I’ve mostly been writing OC stuff and I’m getting back into writing more COD fiction because it’s what does best on this app 😔 (also I have this stupid pimple on my face and it hurts so bad I hate my life)

Tw/cw: none!

Ghost x Female!OC

Rory ‘Valkyrie’ O’Connor. Originally a lieutenant in another private military company, she transferred over to TF141. The only female on the team, in both her previous job and now, she tended to work harder to prove herself.

Price liked that in a person. Headstrong. A good leader. But she had empathy. Kindness. A sweetness outside of work that they hadn’t squashed out of her.

She kept Soap and Gaz in line without being a stuck up bastard. Liked to piss off Graves. Learned sign language for Roach. But with Ghost? Price never truly knew what was going on with them.

She was still new. Only 2 weeks ago she had driven to base and introduced herself. —————-——————————————————

The rain was pouring down heavily, Price could barely light his stupid cigar in the warm spring air. Muggy. Awful.

The car pulled up, a flash of ginger hair pulled his attention up. She was a few inches shorter than him. Freckles spanning her skin with a duffel bag thrown over her shoulder.

“Lieutenant Valkyrie sir.” She shakes his hand.

“Captain Price.” She had a firm grip, calloused palms and a strong handshake. Good eye contact, good posture. Her features were delicate, soft jaw, heavy eyelids with mascara coated eyelashes.

“come inside, the rains brutal.”

“I know right?” She smiles, it was a lopsided grin, he wished his soldiers would find it easy to smile. ————————————————————————

A quiet night. Silent. The silence after a rough mission. Where no one talked. No one looked at each other. Even Soap was quiet. Which was a first.

The kitchen was tucked away in the corner. A hulking figure standing over the counter. Large fingers searching through the medkit.

“Ghost?” An Irish accent calls from the doorway and the masked figure turns.

“hm?” His voice was more of a grumble you felt in your chest. Soft green eyes met sharp blue ones. She was dressed in SpecGru sweatpants and a t-shirt that fit against her form. She shrugged.

“Need some help big lad?” She walks over, frowning as the large gash in his palm. “Gotta be more careful y’a know. Gonna end up dead, don’t need any more people dead.”

he tenses at that sentence and she mumbles an apology. “Sorry. Bad word choice.”

She grabs a needle. “We’ve never really talked.”

“You’re friends with Johnny.” She nods at his words, sitting him down as she takes his hand.

“he’s Scottish, I’m Irish. It was bound to happen.” She chuckles, shaking her head. “Dumbarse I tell ya. But a lovable one at tha’.”

Ghost nods, staring up at her. “Valkyrie-“

“it’s Rory. Just call me Rory.”

“graves doesn’t call you that.” He points out as she gently stitched up his hand.

“Because Graves a virgin ejjit who can’t get shagged to save a life.” That earns an amused huff of air out of the soldier as she shakes his head.

“Damn write I suppose.”

(I wrote this at like 3:30 so it’s not good but it’s enough. Bye love y’a!)

[theerurishipper]

Part 2 of my Paris special commentary (Part 1 here) because Tumblr is an ass and has a word limit.

Disclaimer: This is long asf.

Marinette here playing 5D chess, queen shit.

The most important thing the special confirmed is that Gabe added the word "dark" to his transformation phrase on purpose cause he's a dramatic bitch.

I am here for Claw Noir mocking Gabe. Go off, king.

"Oh nO, iT WAs aN IlLusIon!" That giggle is adorable. She's so cute.

Ladyfly is an ass name, but she looks so great.

Not Gabe getting annoyed at Claw Noir's teasing. See, now this is why we stan Claw Noir on this blog.

Gabe's plan isn't half bad, actually.

Symbolism? In my children's cartoon? It's more likely than you think.

They're having a pun-off.

RIP Chat Noir's ear.

Gabe got feathered lmao

Monarch dipped like a little bitch.

A mirror, I called it. It'll make for some nice symbolism.

"Let alone a calm and gentle mom" I wonder what Sabine is like in their world to make Emonette feel like she's so alone.

I like how they handled the villains tbh. I wasn't a fan of making it seem like Marinette was one step away from becoming a supervillain at all times, but it seems less like that's the case and more like The Supreme took advantage of her suffering and vulnerability at her lowest moments.

It's also nice that they established that Shady and Claw weren't the actual big bads and are just hurt kids who got recruited into a fight they weren't ready for. Their motivation isn't some rehash of Gabriel's, they are literally trying to survive under the rule of someone who will kill them if they don't do his bidding, and because of whom they're dying. Their life is literally full of suffering and they're trying to find something that'll give them a way out. Shady wants Marinette's life, and Claw Noir wants his mother back.

Like, it doesn't excuse their actions, but it does add a more humane element to them that lends itself better to the kind of redemption Miraculous likes to do, which is to fix things with a speech. That's why this redemption works, and Gabe's doesn't.

Anyway.

The back and forth between Chat Noir and Claw Noir was pretty funny ngl.

And we discover that Claw Noir wants his mother back. Of course.

MY POOR BABY

When Marinette was talking about how she was also angry and hurt, but chose to love herself and the world around her and chose to try and fix it... that hit hard. Honestly, it did. It's everything I love about Marinette in one speech. I love it.

And then onto my personal favorite scene in the entire special, possibly in the entire show.

That whole conversation was powerful. "I'm as well as I can be anyway," that's so profound. Like, of course you aren't going to be 100% okay after losing someone you love, but Adrien wants to move on and be happy like his mother would have wanted him to. This scene really showcases Adrien's empathy and his strength, when he acknowledges that having no friends can make it harder for Claw Noir to move on, and then he tells him that only he can make the choice to stop being alone. And that's really true. This scene really showcases everything amazing about Adrien, his hope and optimism, his empathy and his strength. How he finds the strength to keep going by choosing to not be alone. It's beautiful.

Like, it could have been so easy for both Marinette and Adrien to give into their darkest impulses, and Shadybug and Claw Noir really are just representations of how letting your hurt overpower you can lead you down a dark path, and it really highlights their strength, that they choose to make the right choices everyday, despite everything. It really highlights their characters and their arcs. And they're able to take everything they've learned, and look at what they could have been in the eyes and help them change too. It's so poetic.

It would have been a little more impactful if the show had spent more than 10 minutes out of 5 seasons focusing on Adrien's grief and how it has impacted him, but whatever.

Anyway, it also had some Adrien and Nino friendship crumbs, and I'll be darned if I didn't gobble it up like a starved animal. Also, we have confirmation that "Space Mutants vs. Ghost Shark" is Nino's favorite movie, so Nino stans please say "thank you Paris special."

And they are REDEEMED.

Shadybug fixes everything with her Lucky Charm after spending the whole special making destructive ones. My heart.

Shadybug and Claw Noir stop being evil and immediately go from hating each other's guts to flirting shamelessly. They just speedran enemies to lovers in a matter of seconds. They literally just defaulted to flirting. Truly, the natural state of Ladynoir in any universe. We stan.

Gotta be honest, I'm not a fan of the new designs. Wish they had kept the old ones. I'm one of those people whose toxic trait is liking Claw Noir's design, so I'm a little unhappy with it, but hey, it's a sweet scene.

Also, Claw Noir's hair went from the color of rotten bananas to ripe bananas. If that was intentional, I applaud the writers for being both profound and funny as hell.

Aaaaaaand Gabe is back, because we can't have nice things.

The montage going through different realities was great, it was small but I enjoyed it.

They're literally so cute omg. Couple behaviors fr. I'm so obsessed with them.

HUGS

POUND IT

They're holding hands... already... like they're in love... I'm so emotional... I WILL NEVER GET OVER THIS

And they're gone. But their adventures will continue forever in my mind and in my fanfics. And in other people's art that I will ravenously consume.

Cute Alya and Marinette scene. This is really sweet, I love the exploration of the impact Alya has had on Marinette's life.

And now, I'm not an Alyanette shipper, but I think they should kis- oh, wait, never mind, they did it.

And thus, the endless night comes to an end (it happened a while ago but that's just semantics).

Final thoughts

I really loved this so much. Sure, there were some exposition dumps that probably should have happened in the actual series, but that's not the fault of this special. This is probably my bias talking but this is the best special and it's literally perfect, no I will not take any constructive criticism on that. This, this special and everything in it, this is what Miraculous is all about. This is exactly what I wanted, this is what I signed up for. It's literally the best thing ever to come out of this entire show.

[artyandink]

amoralism | thirteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, the Sucide Squad formation and it being a train wreck, a bit of family problems, angst, smut

STW: unprotected sex (do not do this at any circumstances), oral (f. receiving), betrayal!era Dean sex so it’s kinda like if Demon!Dean would do it which we all love, kind of angsty sex, rough sex, rather emotional

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: Tears of Gold - Faouzia

catastrophism

You and Sam were hunched over a pile of papers and computer screens in his dimly lit living room. The room, usually a sanctuary, felt heavy with the weight of your mission. The hum of the computer and the rustling of papers were the only sounds breaking the silence as you scoured for any sign of Dean.

“We’ve got to find him before he goes underground completely,” Sam said, his voice strained but determined. His eyes darted across the screen, following the trail of data that might lead you to Dean. The pressure was mounting; it was evident in the lines etched deep into his face.

You nodded absentmindedly, your eyes glazed over as you flipped through a file with disjointed leads. The stress was palpable, and though you were trying to keep your focus, your thoughts kept wandering back to Dean—the betrayal, the manipulation, the overwhelming realization of it all. It was hard to shake the image of him as the mole, a shadow over every decision and interaction.

Sam glanced over at you, noting the weariness in your eyes and the tight grip you had on the edge of the table. “Hey,” he said gently, “are you okay? You seem...off.”

You blinked, snapping back to reality. “I’m fine,” you replied, though your voice was brittle and unconvincing. “We just need to keep going. We can’t stop now.”

Sam didn’t buy it. He knew you too well. “You’ve been pushing yourself really hard. Maybe we should take a break. It’s been nonstop since—”

“No,” you cut him off sharply, perhaps a little too sharply. “We don’t have time for breaks. Dean’s out there, and he’s a threat. We have to find him before he disappears.”

Sam’s expression hardened slightly, his protective instincts kicking in. “I understand that. But if you’re not in a good place, it’s going to make things harder. We need you at your best.”

You felt a surge of frustration, but underneath it, a deep current of fear and sadness. “I’m fine,” you insisted again, but this time your voice trembled.

Sam’s face softened, seeing through the façade you were desperately trying to maintain. “Look, if you’re struggling, it’s okay. We’re in this together. But you need to let yourself take a breath.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the pressure of it all was too much. You tried to hold back the tears, but they began to spill over uncontrollably. The stress, the worry, the betrayal—everything was crashing down on you, and you felt utterly defeated.

Sam stood up from his chair, his demeanor shifting to one of concern and empathy. “Hey,” he said gently, approaching you. “It’s okay to let it out. We’re going to get through this.”

You couldn’t hold back any longer. You slumped forward, your shoulders shaking with sobs as the tears flowed freely. It was as if all the stress and pain you’d been trying to contain had finally broken free. The sound of your crying filled the room, raw and unabashed.

Sam moved quickly to your side, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. The warmth of his hug was a balm to your frayed nerves. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring. “We’re going to figure this out. You don’t have to carry this burden alone.”

You clung to him, taking solace in the simple act of being held. His presence was grounding, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling in your mind. The tears kept coming, each one a release of pent-up emotion and stress. Sam held you firmly, his hand gently rubbing your back in a soothing rhythm.

As you began to regain some composure, you heard a gentle knock on the door. It creaked open, revealing Jess, rubbing her baby bump. She stepped in, concern etched on her face. “Sam? I heard... Are you guys okay? Do you need anything?”

Sam glanced up, his eyes apologetic. “Hey, Jess. We’re... we’re fine. Just had a bit of a moment.”

Jess looked between you and Sam, understanding dawning on her face. “Do you need something to eat or drink? Maybe just some time to relax?”

You pulled away slightly from Sam’s embrace, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

Jess shook her head, her expression gentle. “Don’t apologize. Everyone needs a break sometimes. Here, let me get you something. It’s the least I can do.”

She left the room, her presence a calming one. You and Sam were left alone again, but the tension in the room had lessened. Sam’s gaze was soft, and he gave you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay to take a step back. We’ll get through this together.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “Thanks, Sam. I just...I didn’t realize how overwhelmed I was.”

“It’s understandable,” Sam said. “This whole situation is tough on everyone. But remember, you don’t have to go through it alone.”

You nodded, grateful for his support. Jess returned shortly with a tray of snacks and drinks, setting them down on the table. “Here you go,” she said with a warm smile. “Just some comfort food. It might not solve everything, but it can help.”

You managed a small, grateful smile as you took a sip of the tea Jess had brought. The simple act of kindness felt like a balm to your frayed nerves. Jess’s presence, combined with Sam’s unwavering support, helped you find a moment of calm amid the storm.

As you ate and drank, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the atmosphere easing as you all shared a brief respite from the intensity of the situation. Sam and Jess talked about their plans for the weekend, and you listened, allowing yourself to be momentarily distracted from the pressing worries.

You and Sam made your way through the narrow, dimly lit corridors of the FBI headquarters, the weight of the last few weeks pressing down on you like a vice. The air was thick with the tension that had been building ever since Dean's betrayal came to light, and it was all you could do to keep moving forward. Sam walked beside you, his long strides purposeful, but there was a heaviness to his movements that you recognized all too well. He’d been carrying the burden of Dean’s actions just as much as you had, maybe even more.

As you approached the office of Director Bobby Singer, your stomach twisted in knots. Bobby wasn’t just your superior; he was practically family. He’d known Sam and Dean since they were kids, and he’d watched them grow into the men they were today. The thought of facing him, of telling him that you still had no solid leads on Dean’s whereabouts, made your chest tighten with guilt.

Sam paused in front of the heavy oak door, his hand hovering over the handle. He glanced at you, his hazel eyes filled with a mixture of determination and dread. “You ready for this?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

You swallowed hard, nodding despite the uncertainty gnawing at your insides. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

With a deep breath, Sam pushed open the door, and you both stepped into the office. The room was dimly lit, the warm glow of a desk lamp casting long shadows across the walls lined with bookshelves crammed full of case files, old and new. The scent of leather and paper filled the air, a comforting reminder of the countless hours spent in this room, poring over case details with Bobby.

Behind the large, cluttered desk sat Director Bobby Singer. He was a grizzled man in his late fifties, his once-dark hair now streaked with gray, his blue eyes sharp and calculating. He looked up from the file he was reading, his gaze settling on the two of you with a mixture of weariness and concern. The lines on his face seemed deeper than you remembered, as if the weight of the world had finally begun to take its toll on him.

“Shut the door behind you,” Bobby said, his voice gravelly but not unkind. You did as he asked, the soft click of the door closing behind you punctuating the heavy silence that had settled over the room.

Bobby motioned to the two chairs in front of his desk. “Sit,” he said simply, and you and Sam both sank into the worn leather chairs, the familiar creak of the old furniture grounding you in the moment.

For a long moment, Bobby just stared at the two of you, his eyes flicking back and forth as if searching for something. You could tell he was trying to gauge the situation, to read between the lines of what you weren’t saying. Finally, he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest.

“I’m guessing you’re here to give me an update on Dean,” he said, his tone neutral but the underlying concern evident.

Sam cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “We’ve been working every lead we’ve got, Bobby, but…” He trailed off, his jaw tightening with frustration.

Bobby’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “But you haven’t found him.”

It wasn’t a question, and the truth of it hung in the air like a lead weight.

You glanced at Sam, seeing the same frustration mirrored in his face. “We’ve been following every lead, Bobby,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s like he’s just… disappeared.”

Bobby’s expression didn’t change, but you could see the flicker of pain in his eyes, a pain that came from knowing just how far Dean had fallen. He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face as if trying to wipe away the exhaustion that clung to him.

“Dammit,” Bobby muttered under his breath, more to himself than to you. He was silent for a moment, his mind clearly working through the implications of what you’d said. Finally, he looked back up at the two of you, his gaze sharp and focused.

“Tell me everything,” he said, his voice firm. “Every lead you’ve followed, every dead end. I need to know where we stand.”

You and Sam exchanged a quick glance before Sam nodded, leaning forward slightly as he began to recount the details of the investigation. “We started with his last known location,” Sam began, his voice steady despite the tension in his body. “After he escaped custody, we traced him to a safe house in Montana. But by the time we got there, he was already gone.”

Bobby nodded, listening intently, his eyes never leaving Sam’s face. “Any sign of where he went after that?”

Sam shook his head, his frustration evident. “Nothing concrete. We found some evidence that he’d been in contact with a few known associates—people we’ve had on our radar for a while. But none of them were willing to talk. It’s like they’re more afraid of Dean than they are of us.”

Bobby frowned, his fingers tapping absently on the edge of his desk. “That’s not surprising. Dean’s always been good at getting people to do what he wants. But this… This is different. He’s not just working with them, he’s controlling them.”

You nodded, the weight of Bobby’s words settling heavily in your chest. “We think he’s been planning this for a long time,” you said quietly. “He’s always been one step ahead of us, like he knew what we were going to do before we did it.”

Bobby’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing as he processed what you were saying. “And you think he’s working alone?”

The question hung in the air, and you could see the doubt in Sam’s eyes as he considered how to respond. “We’re not sure,” Sam admitted finally. “We know he’s been in contact with some high-level operatives, but we haven’t been able to confirm if he’s officially aligned with any groups. It’s possible he’s acting independently.”

Bobby’s lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze hardening. “If Dean’s gone rogue, that makes him even more dangerous. He knows our methods, our protocols. He can predict our every move.”

The room fell silent as the reality of the situation settled over you all. Dean wasn’t just another fugitive; he was one of your own, someone who knew the inner workings of the FBI better than anyone. And that made him a threat like no other.

Bobby leaned forward, his gaze piercing as he looked at you and Sam. “So what’s your plan? How do you intend to bring him in?”

The question caught you off guard, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words. The truth was, you didn’t have a concrete plan. Every lead you’d followed had ended in a dead end, every attempt to track him down had been thwarted. And now, sitting here in Bobby’s office, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of hopelessness creeping in.

But before you could voice those doubts, Sam spoke up, his voice firm and resolute. “We’re going to keep looking,” he said, his jaw set in determination. “We’re not giving up, Bobby. We’ll find him. We have to.”

Bobby studied Sam for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he nodded, a reluctant sigh escaping him. “I know you will, Sam. But you need to be careful. Dean’s not the same person you grew up with. He’s changed. And I don’t just mean because of what he’s done. He’s… different.”

The words sent a chill down your spine, and you couldn’t help but wonder just how much Dean had changed. How much of the man you’d known and loved was still in there, and how much had been lost to whatever darkness had taken hold of him.

“We’ll be careful,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “But we need to bring him in, Bobby. Before he does something we can’t undo.”

Bobby’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of the familiar warmth returning to his eyes. “I know you will,” he said, his voice gentle. “Just… don’t let this consume you. Either of you. Dean’s made his choices, and now you have to make yours.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a reminder that this wasn’t just about finding Dean; it was about protecting yourselves, about not losing sight of who you were in the process. And that was something you both needed to remember, no matter how difficult it might be.

The room fell silent again, the weight of everything left unsaid pressing down on you. You could feel Sam’s tension beside you, his fists clenched in his lap as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. You wanted to reach out to him, to offer some kind of comfort, but you weren’t sure what to say. How could you comfort him when you felt just as lost as he did?

Bobby seemed to sense the tension between you, and he let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his graying hair. “Look, I know this is hard. It’s hard for all of us. But we’ll get through it. We always do.”

You nodded, grateful for the reassurance, even if you weren’t entirely sure you believed it. “Thank you, Bobby,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bobby waved off your thanks, his expression softening as he looked at you and Sam. “You’re family,” he said simply. “We take care of our own.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and you felt a lump forming in your throat. You wanted to believe that everything would be okay, that you’d find Dean and make things right. But as you left Bobby’s office, the reality of the situation settled over you once more.

Dean was out there, a threat to everyone you cared about, and you had no idea where to start looking next. All you could do was keep searching, keep fighting, and hope that somehow, you’d find a way to bring him back before it was too late.

The night had settled into an eerie silence, the kind that left you hyper-aware of every creak and groan of your house. Your bedroom was dimly lit by the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside table, casting long shadows across the walls. You’d been sitting on the edge of your bed for what felt like hours, your mind spinning, trying to make sense of everything that had happened. The revelation that Dean was the mole had shattered something inside you, leaving you feeling lost and hollow. You’d tried to focus on finding him, on stopping him, but every time you closed your eyes, all you could see was his face—the smirk that used to make your heart race, now twisted into something dangerous, something you didn’t recognize.

You knew you should be doing something—anything—but instead, you sat there, paralyzed by the weight of it all. Your hands trembled slightly as you ran them through your hair, the stress of the past few days catching up with you. How had it come to this? Dean, of all people, betraying you, betraying Sam, betraying everything you thought he stood for. You wanted to hate him, but the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. Despite everything, you missed him. You missed the way he used to look at you, the way he could make you feel safe and alive all at once. But now, all of that felt like a distant memory, tainted by the knowledge of what he’d done.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the door creak open. It wasn’t until you felt a presence in the room—familiar, yet unsettling—that you realized you weren’t alone. Your heart leapt into your throat, and you whipped around, eyes widening in disbelief as you saw him standing there, just inside the doorway.

“Dean…” The word came out as a whisper, a mix of shock and something else you couldn’t quite place.

He looked different. The Dean you knew was always intense, but this—this was something else. His green eyes were hard, almost cold, and there was a darkness in them that made your blood run cold. He was dressed in his usual jeans and leather jacket, but there was an edge to him now, a dangerous confidence that had always been there, but was now fully unleashed.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to stand up from the bed, though your legs felt like they might give out at any moment. “What are you doing here?” you demanded, your voice stronger than you felt. “How did you even get in?”

Dean just stared at you for a long moment, his gaze piercing, before he finally spoke. “You left the window unlocked.” His voice was low, rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. There was something different in his tone—an almost predatory calm that both terrified and thrilled you.

You took a step back, instinctively putting some distance between you. “You need to leave, Dean. Right now. You—” The words caught in your throat. “You shouldn’t be here.”

A slow, humorless smile spread across his face as he took a step forward, closing the gap you’d tried to create. “I shouldn’t be here?” he echoed, his voice dripping with irony. “I think you know that’s not gonna happen, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. The term of endearment used to make you feel warm, cared for. Now, it felt like a weapon, a reminder of what he used to be and what he’d become. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “Dean, please… We can talk about this, but not here. Not like this.”

His smile faltered slightly, a flash of something—anger? hurt?—flickering across his face before it was gone, replaced by that cold, hard mask. “There’s nothing to talk about,” he said flatly. “You and Sam think you can just hunt me down, lock me up? You really think I’d let that happen?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the stark reality of what he was saying, what he was willing to do, finally sinking in. “I don’t want to lock you up,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. “I just want to understand why, Dean. Why are you doing this? Why did you betray us?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of the old Dean, the man you loved, behind those cold eyes. But it was gone almost as soon as it appeared, replaced by something darker, more resolute.

“It’s not that simple,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” you shot back, your desperation starting to bleed through. “I deserve to know, Dean. After everything we’ve been through, I deserve to know why.”

He stared at you, his jaw clenched, and for a moment you thought he might actually tell you, that he might break down the wall he’d built around himself. But then his expression hardened, and he took another step toward you, close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“Enough with the questions,” he growled, his voice a rough whisper that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’re not here to understand. You’re here because you can’t stay away.”

The accusation stung because deep down, you knew there was some truth to it. Despite everything, despite knowing what he’d done, you couldn’t stop wanting him. It was like a sickness, an addiction you couldn’t shake.

“No,” you whispered, trying to convince yourself as much as him. “I’m here because I wanted to make you see reason. To remind you of who you are.”

Dean’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a grip that was firm but not painful. It was enough to make your heart race, enough to make you acutely aware of how close he was, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to.

“Who I am?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. “I know exactly who I am. And I think you do too.”

Your breath caught in your throat as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “You can try to resist all you want, but we both know how this ends.”

You wanted to argue, wanted to push him away, but your body betrayed you. The feel of his breath against your skin, the heat of his body so close to yours, it was all too much. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted to him.

“Dean, please…” The words came out as a whisper, but you weren’t even sure what you were asking for. For him to stop? For him to keep going? You didn’t know anymore. All you knew was that you were lost, caught between wanting him and knowing you shouldn’t.

He didn’t answer, but he didn’t need to. His other hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gesture that was surprisingly tender, considering the darkness in his eyes. The touch made you shiver, your resolve crumbling even further.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his for any sign of the man you used to know. “Why are you doing this?” you asked again, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why, Dean?”

For a moment, just a moment, you thought you saw something break in his expression, something that looked like guilt or regret. But then it was gone, replaced by that same cold, steely resolve.

“Because this is who I am now,” he said, his voice rough, almost resigned. “And you’re either with me or against me.”

The words hit you like a blow, the finality of them making your heart ache. You wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to come back to you, but you knew it was useless. This was who he was now, and nothing you said would change that.

But even as you thought that, even as you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into him, from letting him pull you closer until your bodies were pressed together. The feel of him against you, the heat and strength of him, it was intoxicating, and you hated yourself for wanting it, for needing it.

“Dean…” you whispered, your voice breaking.

He didn’t say anything, just tightened his grip on you, his hand sliding from your face down to your neck, his fingers curling around the back of your head as he tilted your face up to his. For a moment, you thought he might kiss you, and despite everything, you wanted him to. You wanted to lose yourself in him, to forget everything for just a little while.

But instead, he just stared down at you, his gaze intense, almost searching. “Tell me to stop,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Tell me to walk away, and I will.”

The words hung in the air between you, a lifeline you weren’t sure you were strong enough to take. You knew you should tell him to stop, that you should tell him to leave and never come back. But you couldn’t. The truth was, you didn’t want him to stop. You didn’t want him to leave. Despite everything, despite knowing that you should hate him, you still wanted him.

You didn’t say anything, and after a moment, Dean’s expression hardened. “That’s what I thought,” he muttered, almost to himself.

And then he kissed you.

It wasn’t gentle or tender like the kisses you used to share. This was different. This was rough, demanding, almost desperate. It was like he was trying to claim you, to remind you who was in control. And maybe that was what you needed—maybe that was why you didn’t push him away.

You kissed him back, your hands fisting in his jacket as you pulled him closer, giving in to the need that had been gnawing at you since the moment he walked into the room. It was wrong, you knew that, but in that moment, you didn’t care. All you cared about was the way he made you feel, the way he could make you forget everything else.

Dean’s hands moved to your waist, his grip firm as he pushed you back toward the bed. You went willingly, your heart pounding in your chest as the back of your legs hit the mattress. He broke the kiss just long enough to push you down onto the bed, following you down, his body pressing you into the mattress as he claimed your lips again.

It was all happening so fast, and yet it felt like time had slowed down, every touch, every kiss searing itself into your memory. You knew this was a mistake, that you should stop him, but you couldn’t. You were too far gone, too lost in the feel of him, the taste of him. You’d been craving this, needing it, and now that it was happening, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop it.

Dean’s hands were everywhere—on your waist, your hips, sliding under your shirt to touch your bare skin. You gasped at the feel of his rough hands against your skin, the touch sending a jolt of electricity through you. It was like you were on fire, every nerve ending alive with sensation.

“Dean…” His name slipped from your lips, a plea, a confession. You didn’t even know what you were asking for anymore. All you knew was that you needed him, that you couldn’t let him go.

His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. You arched into him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you tried to pull him closer, needing more, needing all of him. It was like a fever, a need so intense it consumed you, and you couldn’t think of anything else but him.

Dean’s hand slid up your thigh, pushing your shirt higher as he went. You gasped, your head falling back against the pillows as his lips found a sensitive spot on your neck, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. It was too much, and yet not enough. You needed more, and he knew it. He could sense it in the way you moved beneath him, in the way you clung to him.

“Is this what you want?” Dean’s voice was rough, almost mocking as he pulled back just enough to look down at you. His eyes were dark, filled with a dangerous intensity that both thrilled and terrified you.

You met his gaze, your breath coming in short gasps. You should say no. You should tell him to stop. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you found yourself nodding, your body betraying you once again.

A slow, almost triumphant smile spread across his face, and he leaned down, capturing your lips in another searing kiss. His hand slid higher, pushing your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. His lips followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of heat as he kissed his way down your chest, your stomach.

You were trembling now, your body alight with need and anticipation. Every touch, every kiss was like a brand, searing itself into your skin, your soul. You were losing yourself in him, in the feel of him, and you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to find your way back.

Dean’s hands were rough, his touch possessive as he moved over you, his lips finding every sensitive spot, his hands leaving marks that would bruise by morning. You gasped, moaned, begged for more, even as your mind screamed at you to stop, to remember who he was, what he’d done.

But it was too late. You were too far gone, too lost in the haze of desire and need. This was Dean, and despite everything, despite the betrayal, despite the lies, you couldn’t stop wanting him. You couldn’t stop loving him.

And so you gave in, letting him take you, letting him claim you, even though you knew it was wrong, even though you knew it would destroy you.

His lips latched onto your clit, sucking harshly as he threw your legs over his shoulders, taking it between his teeth for a moment before tracing his name with his tongue. Dean’s fingers came in to break you further, delving into your soaked pussy as he lapped up everything you had to offer until his lips and chin were glistening, but didn’t stop even then.

You didn’t know how long it lasted—minutes, hours, it all blurred together in a haze of heat and need. All you knew was that when it was over, when the storm had passed, you were left trembling, broken, your heart shattered into a million pieces as you came hard and fast, not given time to think or speak.

Dean was still there, his weight heavy on top of you, his breath ragged against your neck when he quickly pounced back up, whipping off his jeans and boxers, his leather jacket and shirt and entering you with one quick snap of his hips. You could feel his heart beating against your chest, strong and steady, a reminder that this wasn’t a dream anymore, that this was real.

You didn’t want it to be real. He’d leave again.

But he removed that thought from your head, pinning your hands above your head, thrusting so hard you’d probably feel it for a week. “So good, baby girl.” Dean growled against your neck, chuckling. “So desperate for me to fuck you raw. I’ll explain everything, I promise.” You couldn’t think, speak, not when he was stripping you of everything in that moment.

Breaking you down and building you back up again as something broken - like him - until he came and you did too a few sloppy thrusts later, Dean’s hard, unrecognisable body collapsing on top of yours like it used to,

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the silence in the room deafening. You didn’t know what to say, what to do. All you could do was lie there, trying to catch your breath, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

Finally, Dean pulled away, rolling off you and onto his back. He didn’t say anything, didn’t look at you. He just lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

You turned your head to look at him, your heart aching at the sight of him. He looked so different now, so distant. The man you loved was still there, somewhere beneath the surface, but he was buried deep, hidden behind layers of anger and pain.

“Dean…” You didn’t know what you were going to say, didn’t know if there was anything left to say. But before you could finish, he cut you off.

“Don’t.” His voice was rough, cold, and it made you flinch. “Just… don’t.”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, the finality of them making your chest tighten. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to explain. He didn’t want to be saved.

And that hurt more than anything.

The following morning, you arrived at the FBI headquarters with an uneasy sense of anticipation. The memory of Dean's sudden reappearance in your life, his rough demeanor, and the fraught, emotional aftermath of that encounter left you feeling on edge. Your nerves were still raw, and the uncertainty of the situation made every step feel heavy, every sound magnified.

You and Sam headed straight to Bobby Singer’s office, where you knew you would receive an update on the ongoing investigation. The sense of urgency was palpable, and Sam’s expression was set in determined lines as he opened the door to Bobby’s office.

Bobby was already there, sitting behind his desk with a stack of files neatly arranged before him. His face was etched with concern, and the usual warmth of his expression was tempered by the seriousness of the situation. As you and Sam entered, Bobby glanced up, his gaze sweeping over you with a hint of the resolve he always carried.

“Morning,” Bobby said, his voice carrying the weariness of long hours spent working on a high-stakes case. “I’ve called a meeting. We’re going to need to think outside the box on this one.”

You exchanged a quick look with Sam, both of you wondering what Bobby had in mind. The weight of Dean’s betrayal had pushed you to the edge, and it seemed like the solution would involve something unconventional.

Bobby stood up, his demeanor taking on a more theatrical edge. “We’ve got a team coming together, one that’s going to work outside of the usual Bureau protocols. You’ll see what I mean.”

With a wave of his hand, Bobby began the introductions. It felt like the opening scene of a high-stakes action movie, each name and face meant to signal something important. You stood there, watching and waiting, as Bobby began.

“First up,” Bobby said, his voice taking on a dramatic tone, “we’ve got someone who’s not just a tech genius but also a force to be reckoned with. She’s the one who can hack through the toughest security systems and has a knack for getting things done. Ladies and gentlemen, Charlie Bradbury.”

The door to Bobby’s office opened with a flourish, and in walked Charlie Bradbury. She was a petite woman with an energetic presence, her short red hair styled into a messy bob that seemed to fit her vibrant personality. Her attire was a bit unconventional for an FBI meeting—a graphic tee layered under a plaid shirt, and jeans with sneakers. She gave a quick wave and a bright smile, her enthusiasm evident as she took her place in the room.

“Next,” Bobby continued, “we have Garth Fitzgerald IV. He’s got the smarts, the charm, and a level of resourcefulness that’s hard to match. Garth, why don’t you come on in?”

The door opened again, and Garth Fitzgerald IV strolled in. Garth had an easygoing manner about him, his long brown hair pulled into a casual ponytail. He wore a casual blazer over a graphic tee, and his demeanor was relaxed, almost too relaxed for the gravity of the situation. His bright blue eyes twinkled with a mix of intelligence and mischief, making it clear he was someone who could be counted on in a pinch.

“Now for someone with a bit more of a no-nonsense attitude,” Bobby said. “John Winchester, a Navy SEAL and Bureau veteran. He’s seen it all and survived it all. Let’s see him now.”

John Winchester entered the room with a solid, no-nonsense presence. He was tall and muscular, his uniform impeccably pressed, his hair cut short and neatly styled. His eyes were sharp and alert, constantly scanning the room with a practiced gaze. His stance was rigid, and there was an intensity about him that spoke of years spent in high-stress situations. Despite the seriousness, there was a quiet respect in his posture, indicating that he was here to get results.

“Dad.” Sam said almost breathlessly, getting a curt nod from John.

“Son.” He replied quietly.

“Coming up next,” Bobby said, with a hint of pride, “Agent Jack Kline. Young, but don’t let that fool you. He’s driven, sharp, and has a personal stake in this mission.”

The door swung open to reveal Jack Kline. Jack was in his mid-twenties, his youthful face marked by a determination that belied his age. He wore a perfectly tailored suit, his dark hair slicked back with a bit too much gel. There was an earnestness about him, a fire in his eyes that suggested he was ready to prove himself. He gave a quick nod as he took his place, his posture straight and attentive.

“Rufus Turner is up next,” Bobby said, his voice carrying a note of familiarity. “He’s a personal friend of mine, a man who’s been around the block and knows his way through the worst of situations.”

Rufus Turner ambled in with a relaxed air. He was an older man with a grizzled beard and a weathered face that told tales of a long life lived on the edge. His attire was practical and comfortable—a flannel shirt over a t-shirt and worn jeans. Despite his casual look, there was an air of quiet competence about him. He moved with the ease of someone who knew exactly how to handle himself in any situation.

“And finally,” Bobby said, with a hint of ceremony, “we have MI6 agent Mick Davies. Don’t let his British charm fool you. He’s a seasoned operative with a knack for strategy and an uncanny ability to get results.”

Mick Davies walked in with a smooth confidence. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored suit, his British accent evident as he gave a polite nod to everyone in the room. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his demeanor was polished and controlled, suggesting a refined sense of discipline and professionalism. He glanced around the room with a keen eye, taking in the group with an air of detached interest.

“Why did that feel too much like a movie?” Sam pointed out, extremely confused.

“Get with the times, idjit.” Bobby replied with a grimace.

You, Sam, and Bobby walked down the corridor toward the large conference room where the newly assembled team, unofficially dubbed the “suicide squad” by Bobby, was set to have its first meeting. The mood was a mix of trepidation and reluctant optimism. Each step you took echoed with the weight of the task ahead. You glanced at Sam, who looked as tense as you felt. He caught your eye and offered a small, reassuring smile.

“Ready for this?” Sam asked, his voice carrying a note of humor despite the underlying seriousness.

You shrugged, trying to mask your nervousness with a grin. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Bobby led the way, his demeanor a blend of determined authority and barely concealed exasperation. “Let’s just hope this motley crew can get their act together. We need results, and we need them fast.”

As you entered the conference room, the scene that greeted you was anything but what you had expected. The room, designed for high-stakes meetings and serious discussions, was currently a battleground of personalities. Papers were scattered across the large table, coffee cups and half-eaten snacks littered the surface, and a low murmur of voices competed with the sound of shuffling papers and the occasional burst of laughter.

Charlie was already there, surrounded by a mountain of tech gadgets and open laptops. She was energetically typing away on her keyboard, her eyes darting from one screen to another with frenetic energy. “Just give me a sec, I’m almost through with this encryption!” she called out without looking up.

Garth was sprawled comfortably in one of the chairs, his feet propped up on the table. He was engrossed in a large comic book, occasionally glancing up with a mischievous grin. “Hey, what’s up? Got any cool new cases for us?” he asked cheerfully, waving his comic book around.

John, standing at the window, was peering out with a focused intensity. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his posture rigid. He barely acknowledged the newcomers, his attention fixed on something only he seemed to see. His frown deepened as he muttered, “We better make sure our perimeter is secure. Can’t be too careful.”

Agent Kline, with his loosely tailored suit and too-gelled hair, was seated at the far end of the table, his gaze darting nervously between his notes and the door. He looked as if he was bracing himself for an incoming storm. “Is this where the briefing starts?” he asked, his accent tinged with a hint of nervous politeness.

Rufus Turner, the weathered veteran, was sitting back in his chair with a cup of coffee in hand. He was wearing a bemused expression as he watched the chaos unfold. “Well, ain’t this a sight,” he said, taking a leisurely sip of his coffee. “Looks like we got ourselves a real circus here.”

Mick was the last to arrive, his sharp suit and neatly combed hair making him stand out even more in the already chaotic room. He entered with a smooth, confident stride, giving everyone a polite nod before taking a seat. “Morning, everyone. I trust we’re all ready to tackle the matter at hand?” he said, his British accent crisp and precise.

Bobby took a deep breath, his face a mask of restrained frustration. “Alright, everyone, let’s get this show on the road. We have a lot to cover, and we need to get organized.”

Charlie, still engrossed in her work, muttered, “Just a minute, Bobby. I’m almost through with decrypting this file. We’re going to need it.”

Garth looked up from his comic book with a raised eyebrow. “Decrypting? Sounds like a real party. How about we get some snacks and make this meeting more fun?”

John, still fixated on the window, grunted in agreement. “We don’t have time for snacks. We need to focus.”

Jack shifted in his seat, trying to catch Bobby’s attention. “Director Singer, if we could have a clear agenda, it might help streamline things.”

Rufus snorted into his coffee. “Streamline things? We haven’t even started, and it’s already a mess.”

Mick, attempting to bring some semblance of order, cleared his throat. “Perhaps a more structured approach would be beneficial. Let’s lay out our objectives clearly.”

Bobby’s patience was visibly wearing thin. He tapped the table with his knuckles, trying to regain control of the meeting. “Alright, everyone, listen up. We’ve got a lot of talent in this room, but we need to focus. The situation is critical, and we can’t afford any more delays. We need to find Dean and resolve this crisis.”

Charlie finally looked up from her screens, her face alight with excitement. “Got it! I’ve got some preliminary data here. We can start by narrowing down his recent contacts.”

Garth folded his comic book with a flourish and sat up straight. “Alright, let’s get to it then. I’m ready for action.”

John let out a huff and moved away from the window. “Fine, but we better not waste time. We need to be meticulous.”

Jack adjusted his suit and glanced at his notes. “I’ll handle the documentation and ensure everything is properly logged. Efficiency is key.”

Rufus shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and skepticism. “Well, this oughta be interesting.”

Mick straightened in his chair, his demeanor all business. “Let’s proceed with a detailed strategy. We need to ensure that all angles are covered.”

As the team began to settle into their roles, the chaos seemed to simmer down a bit, replaced by a more focused, if still somewhat disorganized, energy. You and Sam exchanged glances, silently acknowledging the irony of the situation. The team was indeed a collection of diverse and conflicting personalities, but maybe, just maybe, that was what would make them effective.

Sam leaned closer and whispered, “Do you think this is going to work?”

You shrugged, a wry smile playing on your lips. “They said so much nonsense in five minutes that I’m not quite sure.”

Like, comment or reblog! I’d love to hear your feedback. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

TAGLIST:

@goldngguk @sweetpeachbombshell @slut-for-stiles @staple-your-mouth @daddyscrimsstuff

@dob-4-life @marcis-mixtapez @nonoreas0n @gabrielasilva1510

@lucyholmes13 @pandadork-blog1 @nicolstancu @malusinhaaaa @dybalabandolero

@a-cup-of-nightshade @tomatoessoup @sh0rtcakee @fall-06 @mckaykay-fandoms

@b3th13

@demonxangelomegaverse @deanwinchestersgirl87 @capailluiscedove @i723l-interrupted2323 @niyomiii

@all-the-fan-fic @eviekinevie8 @sunflowerlover57

@1-800-dean-winchester

@darichvep @idk-usernme @supernaturalmarvel3000 @ega2025 @deanbrainrotwritings

@targaryenluvs @bucky-hydra-hoe-barnes @leigh70 @aintnowayboi @ripoffsteveharrington

@gleefulleve @sacrosankta

@riteofpassage77 @eevvvaa @thedevilortheangel @thorsballhair @barbienotdoll

@4e1h3r @wolfieblue03 @kianaleani @vicky199625 @sassyslut2003

@impyrz

@didisull @miwp @lastcallatrockysbar @rizlowwritessortof

@zepskies @angelbabyyy99

@autisticgothic

@yourgoldengirls @deansobsessedgirl @mrsjenniferwinchester

@aylacavebear @lailawinchesterr @brightlilith @arcanaa @hobby27

@lyarr24 @ximm19 @deanbrainrotwritings

@a-girl-who-loves-disney @jeneelsworld @deans-spinster-witch @deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist @kayleighwinchester

@k-slla @muhahaha303 @suckitands33

@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

@katherineeekai @freefallthoughts @angzls @deans-baby-momma @syrma-sensei

@cheynovak

[blaxcunicorn]

hi hi! i saw your post of requests for writing and i wanted to ask for a roronoa zoro one! something about him being acting like he doesn't have feelings for the reader but when a stranger flirts with reader, he gets super jealous and angry. then reader confronts him and he first acts like nothing happened but after a while he finalley confesses his true feelings? idk if it makes sense but anyway thank you!!

also hope you are doing well, have a nice day!! ^^

Hey friend!

I'm well thank you!

Also, thank you so much for the request! I tried my best to write it, but please give me feedback if I missed anything.

This is my first time writing Zoro, I tried my best to capture his character but he is not the romantic type haha.

Word count: 1.1k

After returning from Whole Cake Island after saving Sanji, you worked as a geisha woman in disguise with Robin in Wano. "I believe Zoro wishes to see you again," Robin said with a smile. You felt the skin on your cheek burn. "W-We have to focus on taking Kaido down…I—" you stopped yourself, knowing that arguing with someone as intellectual as Robin would be a waste of time. "I'll cover up for you, just go and greet him. Besides, he might have collected some valuable information on our customers."

"When you put it like that, I'll go." You say, sneaking out of the house. You feel your stomach growl and decide to take a quick trip to Sanji's new food stand. On your way, you freeze as you hear Zoro talking to Sanji. "Don't you want to see Y/n-swan? She looked gorgeous in her geisha outfit." Sanji drooled. Zoro turned around, blushing, feeling a bit embarrassed. Sanji noticed Zoro's blushing and asked him again if he didn't want to see you. Zoro hesitated for a moment before saying no. You overhear this conversation and feel your heart break into a million pieces. You had been so excited to see Zoro, but now it seemed he didn't want to see you.

Sanji looked at him with confusion. "Why not? I thought you liked her," he said. "I do like her, but I don't want to put her in danger," Zoro explained. "I'm not strong enough to protect her yet. I need to get stronger first." Sanji nodded, understanding Zoro's concerns. "I see what you mean," he said. "But you know, Y/n-Swan is a strong person, too. Maybe you could talk to her about it and see what she thinks." Zoro thought about it for a moment, but he wasn't sure if he was ready to talk to you about his feelings. He knew that you deserved someone strong by your side, but he didn't want to lead you on or hurt you in any way.

He knew that he had to become stronger so that he could protect you and be with you, as the crew had many enemies. He would train harder than ever to become the world's strongest swordsman. He knew it would be a long journey, but he was willing to do whatever it took. The scar on your leg from defending him against Mihawk after their first battle still haunts him.

You quietly walked away, tears streaming down your face. You had been so excited to see Zoro, but now it seemed he didn't want to see you. You didn't hear Zoro's confession to Sanji about his feelings for you, as you had already left.

After your Captain's victory over Kaido, Wano hosted a big banquet party to celebrate their new freedom. You sat next to Nami, confiding in her. Nami listened patiently, his eyes wide with empathy. "Don't worry, Y/n. That idiot loves you. He just doesn't know how to show it sometimes." You smile as you find comfort in Nami's words. You feel a tap on your shoulder and turn around to see Mr. Kuyama standing there. He was one of your clients during your undercover job as a geisha woman.

He looked at you with admiration and said, "Y/n-chan, you are the most beautiful geisha I have ever seen. I would be honoured if you would consider marrying me." You felt flattered but didn't know how to respond. Nami stared at you in disbelief; there was no way you were going to leave the crew for a marriage. However, if you marry him, you'll be the richest woman in Wano. Nami drooled over the thought of the money your kind heart would gift her. Before she could say anything, Zoro noticed the man's advances and felt a burning sensation in his chest. His grip tightened around his sake bottle as he struggled to contain his rage.He couldn't bear the thought of you being with anyone else but him. Feeling the tension, Luffy stretched his arm, dragged you to him, and stuffed your mount with meat, hoping to help Zoro by observing the situation from a distance. The Captain facepalm himself when he sees Zoro walking up to Kuyama, grabbing his shirt. "Hey, back off. She is not available for marriage." He said between his teeth. "M-My a-apologies Zoro-San", the poor man managed to stutter out before running away. You could swear that he wetted himself a bit.

Zoro turns around and sees your disapproved face, he could tell he messed up. He left in embarrassment, knowing that you'd confront him anytime soon. It'd be better for the two of you to talk in private. You left Luffy's side to follow Zoro, knowing he'd probably want to choose the meeting spot.

You spotted Zoro standing alone outside, staring at the stars. With hesitant yet determined footsteps, you approached him, letting out a heavy sigh. "Zoro," you started, gently yet firm. "Zoro, what happened earlier?"

He turned to face you, his expression guarded as he pretended not to know what you were talking about. "Nothing," he replied sharply, his tone short. Your frustration grew as he dodged her question. "Zoro, please," you urged, her voice tinged with urgency. "I saw how you reacted. Please tell me what's bothering you."

"I just couldn't bear to see you… with him," he mumbled. "Huh?" you said in confusion. "I just couldn't bear to see you with him, okay!" His honest admission softened your heart. You closed the distance between you and gently touched his arm, offering him silent comfort.

"I see, I didn't know as I thought you didn't want to see me." Zoro is now the confused one. "What are you talking about?"

"I overheard you talking to Sanji about not wanting to see me," you mutter, looking down. He gently lifts your chin to look you in the eyes. "It's not that I don't want to see you. Hell, I would rather spend time with you than training. I just wish I was strong enough to protect you. I don't want anyone else to take you away from me." You smiled, feeling a sense of ease by his confession. "You don't have to protect me, Zoro. Just love me."

With those words, Zoro pulled you into his arms and gently kissed you. The rest of the world melted away as you lost yourselves in the moment.

As you pulled away from each other, Zoro looked at you with a newfound sense of confidence. "I'll always protect you, Y/n. No matter what." Since that day, the two of you have been inseparable.

[hollowtones]

what'd you think about jade shadows?

I put it under a read-more because I don't know how to talk about this without talking about spoiler stuff. The tl;dr is "I liked it but I wish there was a little bit more."

One of the things I didn't like isn't even really part of the quest itself, but I saw a mutual bring it up a few days ago & it's been on my mind since: it feels a little odd to have a content warning before your sidequest, and then not give you any way to skip the quest if it's content you don't think you'd be able to handle. Especially given there's a whole event & rewards that only unlock afterwards!!

OK on to the contents of the quest itself. There's a lot of themes of love and connection and empathy in the face of systemic cruelty or indifference, in this game in general, and a lot of how that manifests is stories about characters fighting for self-determination and agency (the Ostrons trying to stay free of the Grineer, the Solaris trying to destroy the systems that keep them in debt & deny them bodily autonomy, Umbra, the Tenno, the Lotus, etc etc).

I think it's interesting to try and explore a tragedy where we aren't able to help someone in time, where the powers that be have brutalized someone and we as individuals aren't able to get there in the nick of time & help them claw their agency back. I think it's an interesting thematic & emotional through-line (with very strong parallels to Ordis... very smart choice to make him the event vendor / narrator, I'm feasting good on all the new dialogue LOL), and I think there have been enough well-written woman characters in the game that don't get written out or killed for the sake of some man's tragedy or growth that I don't immediately roll my eyes about them trying a So Sad The Woman Dies story.

I do also think this would have hit harder if we got more information about Jade herself!! I realize "this woman broke a law and was completely dehumanized / made into a Thing by the empire, stripping her of herself to suit their ends" is Kind Of The Point, and they make enough of a fuss about "wow there's a lot that's redacted about her history, huh!" that I assume this is a plot thread they're leaving hanging for later. But I feel like the big moment would have resonated better if they gave us a little more info to establish this character, other than "she was heterosexual" and "the Orokin were fucked up, don't forget" haha.

(I do find it funny that the storyline about Ballas, who got Divorced So Badly that he Caused Nearly All Of Today's Problems, is all wrapped up, but the story keeps going "no no, don't worry, there's still plenty of opportunity to remind you how fucked the Orokin were." Here's these two people that broke some insipid law about conceiving a child & so their bosses and leaders broke their brains and turned them into bio-weapon lapdogs as punishment. Every time they go "BTW Something Was Deeply Wrong With The Orokin & We Still Feel The Aftershock Of That Today" I clap my hands like a seal.)

Warframe Babies Are Born!!!!! This little tyke is fuckin weird. What's their problem. I think it's weird and cool. I don't really feel much about "this character is a parent now!" type of storylines. (I did pop off when Stalker got to do his shithead honourable samurai defending a child with one arm thing. I'm a sucker for that & they made it coooooool. It feels like they're setting up some kind of "Lone Wolf and Cub" situation. The scythe being juiced up with BabysPower was also funny.) The baby thing is neat to me from the perspective of, like... This is something weird and new that's never happened before in this universe. That's exciting and kind of scary! I'm interested to see where they go with that. (Presumably in a year or two. Very funny to drop this on us when a completely different major story arc is right around the corner with 1999.)

Gianni's delivery was fuckin killer. I'm excited for whatever next arc they do with Stalker if it means they're gonna pay my boy to grunt and yell and scream more. It feels very strange to be acquainted with two people who've done voice acting in "Warframe" now. Me next? ^_^

I like our new Corpus weirdo. I hope she comes back. Fun to get more stuff with the Sisters of Parvos & with Mr. Granum himself. But I liked her a lot. It got a fuckin laugh out of me to have her through all the quest excited about her big promotion that she's going to get & resolving that with "Is that a fuckin baby??? Fuuuuuck! They don't pay me enough to shoot a baby with a gatling gun!" I wish her ending scene was a little more than just stoically standing aside but literally anything else I can think of feels way too cheesy or on-the-nose.

The facial animations on the Operator were really fuckin weird. I just remembered that. I thought that was just a thing on my end but I watched someone else play & the faces looked weird for them too.

Hunhow's a good inclusion. I like him seeing the Stalker stewing in his own misery because he hates the only people that could offer him help & going "aw man, c'mon buster, don't be like me now." I like his signature that he puts in his emails. I like that he's still an emotionally constipated weirdo that hates us but is still endeared to us in some way. (They make nods to The New Strange in his ending email, which makes sense given that this also feels like a quest setting up More Weird Shit In The Future, but I do get a laugh that it also reads as "JADE WAS PREGNANT? OKAY... WELL. DON'T FORGET THAT I HAVE A WOMB TOO, KID." Thanks Grandpa. Love you too Grandpa. Thanks for the sweeties Grandpa.)

The event quest feels like a nice bow on top. I like the parallels between Jade and Ordis. Wanting to afford her the dignity in death he could never be given. Acknowledgement of Ordan Karris is fun!!! (The line about him being conflicted with the thought of Granum un-cephalon'ing him has me rubbing my hands together.) I'm excited that we're getting so much of Parvos Granum lately. What a shit head. It's funny to see him so hyped up about Ordan. "Duuuude! Your history's famous killer!! That's awesome? Do you wanna work for me? C'monnnnn we both hate the legacy of the Orokin. Wouldn't it be awesome if MY rule was the one dehumanizing you and wielding you as a weapon instead?" This is something they've been establishing as early as "Parvos and Ballas in bed with one another doing shady back-room deals over a Warframe bodyguard and specter particle research" but it's fun whenever they sow the seeds of Parvos being so much like the Orokin he hated.

I wrote more than I thought I was going to!!! I like the thematic through-line idea of this quest but I wish they executed on it better. I like the stuff this is presumably establishing for the future. I really like the event quest as... not quite an epilogue, I guess, but as an addition. Other than that I thought it was okay! I wasn't expecting anywhere near the level of Whispers in the Walls, but that quest being such a high bar makes a "pretty okay" quest stick out to me a little, haha.

[krackenwl]

Autisitc Giants and Tinies!!!!!!

As and Autsitic person i think the concept of tinies and giants that are autistic is neat!

Autistic Tinys:

Who have hyper sentive hearing so the giant has to be extra quiet to not overstimulate them or hypo sentive hearing tinys who where the giants voice doesnt bother them unlike other people and even likes the vibrations they feel when the giant talks

Who hang out on their giant friends shoulder so they can infodump to them in their ear

Who stim but playing with the giants hair or even in/with the giants hands/fingers

That are non-speaking who have a giant translator (litterally) or even use a AAC device that set to be loud enough for the giant to hear

That when having a meltdown the giants makes sure they're safe and not hurting themselves (while also giving them space)

That will uses the giants hands as a pressure blanket or even to cover them so they can sit the dark

Tinys who have a better time reading their giant friends then others because they can see their giant friends facial experssions better because of how big they are

Who have trouble with controling their volume but the giant doesnt mind cause it just means they can hear them better

Autistic Giants:

That have hypersentive hearing that can pick up the tinys voice more then others and even hear the borrorws in the walls that no one else can

That talk naturally quiets so doesnt have to mask their voice with their tiny friend or has a harder time controling their voice volume and accicently keeps getting to loud and feeling bad about it

That will GENTLE (and with consent) stim with their tiny friends as a figit

Who infodumps to the tiny while holding them

That is non-speaking who now has a tiny translator and if has a AAC device puts it really quietly for the tiny

Who has shut downs and the tiny finds their safe food for them

Who has meltdowns and the tiny tries to help with alot a space between them and struggles how but does their best

Who has a harder time reading social cues cus their tinys friends face is so small

Who has hyper empathy so realizes the tinys feelings quicker then the tiny expacted

Autistic Sizeshifter:

Who turn small during shutdowns but grow during meltdowns

That grow or shrink as a stim or to do surtain stims

That will grow while infodumping by accident because they're so happy or shrink to play with figures of there special interest

if anyone thinks of more id loved to hear them but this is all i can think of right now (and i kept out some of the angst ideas)

[blue-slxt]

Our Song Cord: If The World Was Ending, You’d Come Over, Right?

(Chapter 5)

A/N: It feels like it took me forever to really work out how I wanted this chapter to play out lol. But overall, I'm satisfied with how it came out so I hope you guys enjoy it too. I'm not the best at angst, but I think it came out well. Every chapter title is a song reference, so if you know the song, you get a cookie. I really really appreciate feedback so comments and reblogs are heavily encouraged. All characters are aged up.

Series Masterlist

Previous Part | Next Part

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Pregnancy, Labor, Birth, Mentions of Death, I think that's all

Word Count: 5.3k

Summary: It's time for the arrival of your baby and Neteyam gets clocked upside the head with revelations. Also, Kiri is best girl.

Things were never the same with you and Neteyam after that night. Aside from a few fleeting glances from across the way, he completely avoided you. He didn’t come hunting with you, never sat with you at dinner, hell, you even missed how he would tease you about the awful accessories you would try to weave together for him. To everyone else, he was still Neteyam, the prince of the Omatikaya, but to you, he became a stranger. To make matters worse, he started heavily leaning into his “relationship” with Layao. You almost would never find one without the other these days. You almost preferred he physically tore your heart from your chest with his bare hands. That would have hurt less than this.

Kiri would still come to check on you from time to time. You told her what had happened and she immediately tried to run to go tell Neteyam the truth. As much as you wanted him to know; as much as you knew he deserved to know, it felt like this was the way things were just supposed to be. Your arrangement was always supposed to be only temporary. Neteyam was always supposed to be with Layao. It’s what’s best for the clan. So, if that means taking a step back and figuring things out on your own, then that’s what you’ll do. The first few weeks were the hardest. You found yourself sitting alone on the ground of your floor in tears nearly every day. You hardly left your home anymore. If it weren’t for Kiri consistently coming to check on you and bringing you food, you’re not sure how well you would have fared. She’s been your biggest support throughout this whole thing. Every now and then, she tries to urge you to tell Neteyam the truth, but you stand firm in your decision not to. “You didn’t see how he looked at me, Kiri.” You would tell her feeling a fresh pang of tightening in your chest at the memory.

“Besides, he seems happy now with Layao. I don’t want to stand in the way of that.”

She would roll her eyes at you every time, but her empathy for you outweighed her grievance with your choice in handling the situation.

After a few months, your stomach finally started to grow a small bump. And as your belly grew, so did your determination to make the best life you could for you and your unborn child. But it seems that your protruding stomach also made it that much harder for Neteyam to even look your way. Nevertheless, hiding away in your home was no longer an option. You would visit the healing tent on a semi-regular basis so that Mo’at could track the progress of the baby. She said it’s going to be a little girl and your adoration for the little soon-to-be life swelled in your heart while your hands ran over your stomach.

You and Aykxo saw each other more, but it never went past casual catch ups. You were positive he had heard the talk about him being your secret mate and father to your baby, but he never brought the subject up with you for some reason. You both knew it wasn’t true so maybe there just was no reason to speak it out loud. However, if it were mentioned to him by anyone else, he would deny it. Despite his best efforts, though, people still speculated. About halfway through your pregnancy, Aykxo tragically lost his life during one of the raids held against the sky people. When the news reached the clan, many people gave you pitied looks and there were whispers of ‘that poor girl’ when he was laid to rest. Many people still believed Aykxo to be the father of your baby, but you always denied it. Not that it was anyone’s business as far as you were concerned. But after every denial, there would be the inevitable ‘well, who else could it be?’ and you would clam up. You couldn’t tell the truth and you didn’t want to put the spotlight on anyone else.

“You should have seen it, Kiri. I mean the way that she looked at me when all I asked was for her to pass me some damn fruit. Fruit! I’m so sick of everybody looking at me like some poor, defenseless, grieving mate that can’t hold it together.” You say readying your spear to strike at a fish in the pond.

Kiri sits next to you on the edge with her feet dangling into the water. “Well, you know, if you’re really that sick of it, you could always just—”

“Don’t. You already know that that’s not happening.”

She sighs deeply and shrugs her shoulders. Even though it made your heart heavy to have Neteyam avoiding you like a disease, you had gained a stronger bond with Kiri than you previously had and you were beyond grateful for all of her support and help. At least your child would have some type of relationship with his family.

As the months carried on, you had learned to make your peace with your situation and your decision. Hell, you had even started to consider actually taking a mate. That proved to be more difficult than you’d initially thought, though. Men were cautious about approaching you, to put it lightly. Some of them were good friends with Aykxo and felt bad about moving in on ‘his mate’. Some were put off by the fact that you were currently carrying a child that didn’t belong to them. Either way, the whole process was like pulling teeth.

But the peculiar thing that stood out to you was not your own failed attempts at taking a mate, but the fact that after all this time, Neteyam still had not had his ceremony with Layao. You were sure that Mo’at or Jake would have had them get on with it by now. It’s not that you were complaining, but you had to wonder what was the hold up? Kiri swears she doesn’t know. She says she has nothing to do with the extension on their postponement.

Regardless, it doesn’t concern you anymore. Your main focus is your baby that will arrive any day now. You’ve been spending the last week or so hunting and gathering and preparing for the birth. You’ve stocked up on plenty of ripe fruit, vegetables, smoked meats, herbs to help with your recovery, and freshly woven blankets that you made with Kiri’s help.

And now, you sit here at a pond listening to the gentle trickle of the water as it waves and moves with your swaying feet. The warm water on your aching joints was a welcome relief. Your feet had swollen, your belly was large and heavy, your breasts filled out and became sore. So, you often would come and soak whatever part of yourself was bothering you most that day. Your hand sits on top of your belly rubbing little swirls around the tahnì you can still see from this angle.

“Hello in there little one. I’m your sa’nu.” You coo lovingly at your stomach with a smile. You can feel little feet swing and kick inside of you in response. One particularly hard kick lands right below your navel and your hand instinctively holds the spot you were hit. “Oof, you are strong, just like your sempu…” Your expression is still warm, but there’s a hint of sadness there thinking about it.

“Your sempu is a mighty warrior” you chuckle a bit. “But he is also very kind and funny and handsome. He’s pretty smart most times, but he can also be a total skxawng.”

It feels like her tiny body somersaults inside when you mention her father and you can’t help but laugh a little to yourself. Sometimes, you wonder if she knows when you’re specifically talking about Neteyam. Maybe it’s the change in your heartbeat that she can feel when you talk about him. Or it could be the tensing of your gut when you see him around the village. Whatever the case may be, she always comes alive at the mention of her father.

Dinner should be happening right about now. You figure that it’s time for you to go head back.

“What do you say we go get you fed, little one?”

You stand to your feet and feel a pang of pain in your lower back. You probably shouldn’t have sat for as long as you did. You try to stretch and relieve some of the pressure, but to no avail. Just another ache to add to the list.

At dinner, Kiri and Lo’ak keep you company while Neteyam sits with Layao and his parents, no doubt discussing the coming ceremony.

“I don’t care what everyone else says, there’s no way you’d mate with someone as corny as Aykxo. I just don’t buy it.” Lo’ak says between bites of his food.

“You know, Lo’ak, that may be the smartest thing I’ve heard you say in a long time.” You tease and he shoots you an unamused look.

“I’m just saying, I don’t get why you’re being so hush hush about who it is. It’s not like it’s a big deal, but you won’t even give us a hint. You keep saying it’s not Aykxo, but you’re never with anyone else.”

“Have you ever considered that maybe it’s none of our business?” Kiri rolls her eyes at him.

“Of course not.” He replies very matter of fact.

Kiri waves him off and turns her attention to you, “Anyways, have you picked out a name yet?” Her eyes light up and her smile beams at you as she’s been impatiently awaiting the arrival of the new addition. “I have, but I’m waiting until she’s here.”

A sudden chill runs up your spine and you reflexively turn around to see what the cause is. You’re surprised to see Neteyam standing behind you looking like he was about to tap you, but he retracts his hand once you look at him.

“Hey, um, can we talk?” the awkward tension is palpable. Your eyes flick to Lo’ak and Kiri for some kind of help, but Lo’ak is too busy trying to avoid eye contact with you and Kiri is urging you with her eyes to go with him.

“Sure.”

You stand up with a heavy sigh and follow his lead away from the crowd. He doesn’t walk you that far away from everyone, but far enough that you can have some privacy. Your eyes study him while he shifts from one foot to the other and his hands clench repeatedly at his sides. The ache in your back is building in intensity, but you do your best to ignore it. This is the first time that Neteyam has actually acknowledged your existence since he found out about your pregnancy. No way you were going to let a little back pain interrupt this long-overdue conversation. 

“So, I hear from Kiri that you are due soon.” He starts.

“Yes, I am. Any day now.” Eywa, this couldn’t be any more uncomfortable if you tried.

“Well, that’s good news. I’m sure you will be an excellent mother.”

You almost feel like you could be sick from how formal he’s being with you right now. It physically makes your stomach hurt. Literally. There’s a tight squeezing in your stomach that’s growing. You still try to keep the conversation going anyways.

“Oh, uh, thank you…” Your hand holds your stomach right in the spot where the pain is the worst. You try to rub it and massage the feeling away, but it does nothing to alleviate the feeling.

“I guess I should also be offering my condolences…for what happened to Aykxo.”

Not this again.

“Neteyam, please don’t. Me and Aykxo nev—” your thought is interrupted by another stronger pain in your stomach. You double over clutching your belly waiting for it to pass, but it doesn’t. “Are you alright?” Neteyam’s voice finally has dropped its proper tone and is filled with concern. You can’t answer him as you groan through the pain and then that’s when you feel it. A gush of liquid rushes out from between your legs and to a small puddle on the ground at your feet. Your eyes go wide and look up at Neteyam who looks even more panicked.

“Oh, Great Mother…I think it is time!” 

“Oh, Eywa. We need to get you to my grandmother right now!” Neteyam tries to grab your hand and lead you back towards the clan, but the pain feels like it has already increased tenfold and you can barely move.

“Ahhh…I-I can’t, Teyam. It hurts t-too much.” You whine holding your stomach and nearly falling to your knees.

“O-okay, okay. Just…hold on to me.” He says bending down a little and guiding your arms to wrap around his neck. He picks you up bridal style and quickly regains his balance.

“Just hang on for a little longer. We’ve got to get you to the healing tent.”

All you can do is nod your head while you try to focus on your breathing and nestle yourself into his hold. He hurries back to the clan and rushes back over to where Kiri and Lo’ak are still sitting. Kiri momentarily lights up seeing Neteyam carrying you back, but her expression immediately falls into worry once she sees the expression on both of your faces.

“What happened?” she asks standing to her feet and meeting Neteyam halfway.

“It’s time for her to have the baby!”

“Eywa, okay, come bring her to the tent.” She leads him through the crowd and some people stare and whisper amongst themselves about the scene unfolding in front of them. Not like you can really notice right now when it’s all you can do just to breathe properly. The bouncing of Neteyam’s steps don’t help with the cramping feeling growing in your abdomen, but it’s a necessary evil to get you the help you need.

Once you finally arrive at the healing tent, Kiri instructs Neteyam to lay you down on one of the mats while she gathers supplies and locates Mo’at. Sweat beads on your forehead and your vision is losing focus. Neteyam brushes his fingers over your face hoping to offer you some sort of comfort in this moment until his grandmother can arrive.

“Teyam…” you breathe out.

“It’s okay, you’re going to be okay. My grandmother is on her way.” He says feeling sick to his stomach at the fact that he feels so powerless in this moment.

“Teyam…’m sorry…”

“Shhh…now’s not the time. Just focus on getting through this.”

Kiri finally returns with Mo’at and they both waste no time springing into action around you. Mo’at places her hands on top of your stomach and closes her eyes listening for the message from Eywa.

“It is time, child. You will need to put forth all your strength.” She says looking down at you.

Kiri takes ahold of your hand and mutters words of encouragement to you.

Neteyam can’t help but feel a bit out of place here right now. He has no way to help and he feels more than a bit awkward watching the birth of someone else’s child so he drops your hand and silently backs out of the tent.

“Where are you going?” Kiri asks him sharply.

“W-well, it seems that the two of you have it under control. I don’t want to be in the way.” He says continuing out of the tent. “Neteyam!” Kiri calls out, but when you squeeze her hand, she knows that she needs to focus her attention on supporting you right now. “I swear to Eywa, I am going to kick his skxawng ass when this is over.” She mutters to herself.

A loud, guttural groan leaves your throat feeling another harsh contraction of your muscles rip through you.

Mo’at uses her fingertips and a dull bone dipped in oil to tap various points around your body. She says it’s to help prepare you and help your body do what it needs to.

“I can’t do this, Kiri. I ca—aaaaaaaarrrrrrrrgggggghhhh”, you barely even have the capacity to get a full sentence out without being interrupted by the impatient arrival of your baby.

“Yes, you can. I know it hurts, but right now you have to be strong for her. I’m going to be right here with you the whole time.” She gives your hand a reassuring squeeze when your grip on her tightens.

“It is time.” Mo’at speaks up in front of you. Outside the tent, Neteyam had actually stuck around. He couldn’t bring himself to stay inside and watch, but somehow it felt wrong for him to completely leave you too. So, he opted to lean himself against one of the support posts and wait. You know, for moral support. All he can hear from inside is groans and screams of pain while his grandmother and sister try to coach you through it. The pained howls that you make are unlike anything he’s ever heard and it makes that useless feeling settle in his gut again. There was a point in time where he would’ve done anything to be able to help take away some of your pain and a part of him will always feel that way for you, but he decided that that was no longer his place. More agonizing screams erupt from inside the tent and he prays to Eywa to help you through this. Hearing you like this made his heart hurt in a way that was different than anything else he’s encountered.

Just when he feels like he’s about to break, there’s a long silence. His ears swivel back and forth searching for a sound, any sound. Some kind of sign that everything was alright. And then, there it is…a cry. There are sighs of relief and muttered praises to you from Mo’at and Kiri about how well you did. Your baby’s first cries fill his ears and it practically brings Neteyam to his knees.

Inside, you cradle your newborn in your arms and an exhausted smile crosses your face looking down at her tiny, squishy features.

“She will calm once you make the bond.” Mo’at explains taking hold of your baby’s queue. Kiri helps bring your own to the front so that tsaheylu can be made and once the bright glowing tendrils meet, your baby is soothed immediately. When she calms down and looks up at you, you can’t help but notice the pattern of the stripes and tanhì on her head are identical to Neteyam’s and it brings tears to your eyes.

Through the bond, you can feel how she is trusting you and relying on you and you are sure that you’ve never loved like this before and nothing would ever compare to this. She is everything to you. The tears keep coming and you can’t distinguish if they’re happy tears or sad tears anymore.

Kiri places her hand on your shoulder in an attempt to comfort you and when you look at her, she’s welling up with tears of her own.

“She looks just like her father.” You half whisper.

…

The recovery period was tough. Even the simple act of bringing your baby to the Tree of Souls so that she could make her first bond was a strenuous responsibility. Caring for an infant alone proved to be the hardest thing that you had ever done. If it weren’t for Kiri coming to visit you almost daily, you surely would’ve collapsed from exhaustion by now.

“Hello little Veyä. I’m your aunt Kiri. Oh, you are just so cute!” she would coo and cuddle her in her arms while you would take the chance to do your hair or bathe. It was a heartwarming scene to say the least.

Who you haven’t seen in the almost 2 weeks since your baby’s been born? Neteyam. Before, his avoidance was painful, but now it was just strange. It was as if he was a ghost. There one second and as soon as he’d catch even the smallest glimpse of you, he would be gone.

“What’s up with Neteyam these days?”

“He’s been brooding in his kelku for weeks now and he won’t talk to anyone about what’s bugging him.” Lo’ak says wiggling his finger at Veyä who’s tucked into your sling on your chest and letting her grab at him.

You hum out a response mindlessly rubbing your hand up and down your baby’s back.

“He’d better pull it together soon. Grandmother said that he and Layao are finally going to have their ceremony in a few days. Man, what I wouldn’t give to have a girl like that.” Your attention snaps back to Lo’ak who is still playing with Veyä.

“Oh, I see.” There it is again, that funny feeling. That familiar sinking sensation that makes it feel like your chest is going to concave in on itself. After so long, it almost seemed less likely to happen, but of course, the world is not so kind.

“Well, I should get going. I’ve got to get Veyä to Mo’at so she can make sure that she’s doing well.”

“Alright. I guess I should get back to training anyways. See ya around.” He says while you wave goodbye at him and head towards the healing tent. Veyä coos in your sling you quickly readjust her to make sure she’s secure. When you enter the tent, there’s no one there.

“Hello? Tsahìk? Kiri?” no response. That’s odd. You were almost sure that this was the time you agreed to come. Maybe there was some kind of last-minute emergency and they had to run out. Or maybe you were actually so sleep deprived and out of your head that you had gotten the timing wrong.

“Guess we have some time to kill. Let’s go have a snack while we wait for someone to get back. How does that sound, tìlor?” you gush at your little baby and rub your finger against her cheek making her crack a tiny smile.

“Hello? Grandmother? I need your help with—oh” when you turn around, you see Neteyam entering the tent holding his forearm, but he goes still when he realizes that you’re there.

“Hi. I think everyone is out right now.” You say sheepishly.

“Oh, um, I see. What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I was bringing Veyä to see Mo’at just to check on her progress.” He doesn’t offer much of a response besides a small nod of his head. Your eyes trail down to the trickles of blood on his arm. “What happened to you?”

He looks down at his arm, “Ah, training accident. I got distracted and got swiped.” He quickly lifts his hand from his arm to show you. He’s definitely downplaying it. There’s a long open gash up half the length of his arm.

“Eywa, that looks bad.” “It’s fine, really. I can just wait for Grandmother to get back.”

“Are you kidding me? You can’t just wait for that. Sit down. Let me help you.” His face falls a little in surprise, “Really, you don’t have to wor—” “Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan, sit down and let me wrap your arm.” Your voice comes out stern and sure taking him aback. You’ve only ever used his full name once in your whole lives so he wasn’t used to hearing it from you. It makes the tip of his tail flick wildly behind him without his permission. With a sigh, he relents and takes a seat on the ground in front of you.

“I know that I’m no tsakarem, but I at least can do this much.” You say already grabbing the nearby bowl of yalnabark and some clean cloth. You crouch in front of him and pour water over the wound to clean it and dip your fingers into the yalnabark paste so that you can smooth it over his arm. You’re careful with your movements so as to not disturb Veyä too much. Your eyes watch your hands while you work, but Neteyam can only watch your face. He tries to not let his face get hot under your gentle touch and attentive gaze. He thinks about how much he misses when your eyes would look at him with what felt like love. How your cheeks would squish up when you smiled at him. How soft your lips were under the calloused tips of his fingers. Damn, how he wanted to touch you again. It was always a gut punch to see you from a distance which is why he tried his hardest to not see you. But looking at you now up close, he doesn’t want to be anywhere else.

Neteyam is pulled from his musings by the small babbles of your baby in your sling. He’d been trying for the last 2 weeks to deny the reality of the situation, but right now, there was no running from the truth when it sat right there nestled snugly against your chest. His eyes fall to the small figure you carried and he feels as if his brain short circuits when she stares back at him.

Again, Neteyam is a smart man. He’s observant. And what he immediately notices looking at your baby? It’s like looking at his own reflection. He instantly recognizes the familiar shapes and patterns on her head. Yes, her features are more similar to yours such as her eyes or her lips, but there’s no mistaking the pattern of her tanhì or the stripes on her forehead that all curve and meet right between her eyes. It feels as if his whole chest seizes. There was no way. Was there?

You don’t notice the look Neteyam is giving you right now as you’re too busy ensuring that you wrap the cloth around his arm properly.

“Okay, that should do for now. At least, until your grandmother can properly take care of it. But that should hold you for the day.” You say tying the final knot. You’re met with silence and when you look at his face, Neteyam’s face is stuck with a dumbfounded expression. You stare back at him, “What?”

His mouth opens and closes waiting for words to come through, but none do and he instead sits there like a gaping fish.

“Alright. Well, I’d better get going. I need to find a snack and feed Veyä. I guess I’ll see you around.” You say finally standing and making your way out of the tent. Neteyam watches you completely dazed. He feels as if everything he’s known has just been flipped on its head.

…

At dinner, you sit with Kiri and Lo’ak as usual while chewing on some teylu and watching Kiri gush at Veyä in your sling. Her tiny tail thrashes around in excitement when Kiri tickles just under her chin and the sight makes your heart swell. Across the crowd, you spot Neteyam sitting with his parents and Layao as usual. But what was unusual was the way he kept staring at you completely lost to whatever other conversation was being held around him. He only offered fleeting glances and half-hearted responses to those around him while maintaining his focus on you. Normally, these days, he did all he could to avoid seeing you and now he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you.

“Any particular reason your brother keeps staring over here?” you ask both of them.

When Kiri and Lo’ak turn around, sure enough, they catch a glimpse of Neteyam’s searing focus before he can pretend to look away and act casual.

“No clue. He’s been weird all day.” Lo’ak remarks. “He was totally out of it at training. He got this really nasty looking gash on his arm when he was training one of the other warriors. He left himself wide open. I don’t know where his head is at these days.”

Veyä starts to fuss in your arms so you latch her onto your chest figuring she’s also ready to eat. You do your best to try and not dwell on the pair of eyes watching your every move through the rest of dinner.

By the time you’re done with your food, Veyä has fallen asleep and you say your goodbyes to Kiri and Lo’ak so that you can head back to your kelku and get some rest.

Neteyam’s focus still lingers on you even after you’ve disappeared from his sight, his mind follows behind you.

He manages to bring his attention back to the scene around him enough to notice that Layao has finished eating. He figures that if there were ever an opportunity to do this, it was now or never. He leans over and whispers to Layao, “Can we go talk somewhere?”

She nods at him and they excuse themselves from the group.

They walk in silence together to Neteyam’s kelku and the quiet is thick and heavy between them. His gut feels sick, but he knows that this is for the best. When they get inside, he pulls the flap over the opening and secures it to give them some privacy.

Layao watches Neteyam curiously while he paces a bit trying to find the best starting point. He turns to her and swallows hard. “Layao, you are a wonderful person and any man in the clan would be lucky to have you, but I don’t think that I can go through with this arrangement. I care about you a lot, but I’m in love with someone else.” He finally admits. He waits to watch her reaction and tries to prepare his heart for the stream of tears and sobs that are sure to leave her at any moment…and yet, they never come. She blinks at him a couple of times while processing the information and then, to his complete shock, she sighs in relief.

“Oh, thank Eywa.” She says letting go of a big breath.

Now, it’s Neteyam’s turn to blink at her in confusion. Layao notices the bewildered expression on his face and takes a couple of steps closer to him. “Look, Neteyam, you are a great guy. You’re handsome and strong and loyal and kind, but I’m not in love with you either. I was going along with the arrangement because everyone said it was what was best for the clan. I was leaning in to try and make the best of the situation for both of us and I was scared to be the one to call it off.” She explains.

His mouth hangs open with this new revelation. “Wait, so you don’t want to mate with me?”

She laughs a little to herself, “Not particularly. No offense Mr. Mighty Warrior, but I just don’t see you that way. If I’m being perfectly honest, I’m actually interested in Lo’ak.”

Now, Neteyam is the one laughing. All this time, it could have been so simple.

“I can see why you love her.” She says interrupting his train of thought before it can even really begin.

“How did you know?” She rolls her eyes at him, “Neteyam, I have 2 eyes that work. It is as obvious as the stripes on my face that you are madly in love with her. I’ve always seen the way you are around her. She’s always had your heart. And I can understand why.” She takes his hand in hers tenderly. “It was fun for a while, but I think it’s time for both of us to stop playing pretend and do what’s best for us.”

Neteyam covers her hand with his other and smiles at her. “Thank you.”

“Now, go find her. And don’t screw it up.” She says playfully shoving him out of the kelku.

“I owe you one. I promise, I’ll get you in with Lo’ak. It shouldn’t be too hard since he’s kind of already into you.” He says turning on his heels and eagerly heading towards your home.

Taglist: @soleilmoon @netemoon @fifia-writes @strangersav11

@eywascall @neteyamsluvts @heart-an0n @iman-lu @xylianasblog @theunfortunateplace @hyejusdiary @savvysscandles @randxmthxughts @yeosxxx @atwow69 @bellstwd @iseeyouuu @simp4ff @universal-s1ut @mynameisjuno @teyamsatan @uaze123 @nelissecrectplace  @angrypomeranianwifey @perfectxserendipity @yumimak @rainbowturdz @rhiannonhippiegirl @sullymenrhot @hiddensnow1 @rainymoonsheep @ivysully @badbussylol @afro-hispwriter @fandom-geek17 @teyamsmate @iameatingmyhair @leaveitbythewave @battylupin @angie-1306 @skywonder @criticallybella @xreadersstuff @yunho-leeknow @tiredmamaissy @hadesbabygurl @angelaut0matec @ntymavtr @shhhhhhh162 @solanasmh

(Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist. If your tag isn't working, please check your settings.)

[kaeyx]

In any monster au chuuya would 1000% be a vampire. Blood in wine glasses, dark moody reds and black, hates bright lights, lives in extravagance with a night time job. Hes the refined, elegant type that has successfully integrated into human society but misses being an old romantic. Chuuya closely monitors the modern era, absorbing all kinds of information from technology to ethics. Initially it was to better blend in but now he has an appreciation for human tenacity and ingenuity. When he falls in love he falls hard, he cannot bare to part from you but he cant stand turning you into a cold monster such as himse-"but if im a vampire we can fuck forever" .....you make a good point and he will think on it. In all seriousness though he is a gentleman who considers your happiness and wellbeing above everything. If you come to the conclusion that you want to remain human he is absolutely going to dedicate an entire mausoleum and garden to you inside his castle- he leaves the city behind to stay with your corpse until he also returns to dust. Its the hardcore romanticism in him. For as long as your alive though, dont expect him to ever leave you alone

Dazai is harder for me to pin down but i feel like he would be genuinely unsettling/inhuman. Thinking drider/jorogumo, kelpie, jinkininki. I think kitsune also fits very well for the trickster aspects but the monster side needs to be beefed up for me to appreciate. Regardless he is found in the dark, dangerous, and empty corners of cities. On the surface he is completely adjusted to life as a human, especially when he is able to present in human form. But at his core he is still a monster who doesnt expend empathy or kindness to humans. His tricks, his traps, his appetite for human flesh are still alive and well. Thankfully at some point someone instilled in him the idea of morals so dazai's diet consists of human scum. He isnt romantic like chuuya but is devoted and tender. Unfortunately a true monster fell in love with you and he will find a way to make you immortal. There are plenty of talented witches and taoists that owe him favors. Theres no existence without you, he will bind his soul to yours so he never has to be alone again

Suffice to say both monsters are yandere and the sex is intense

LMAOOO CHUUYA WOULD BE SO TAKEN ABACK POOR THING

But yes that's me you're telling me I get to sleep during the day and wander around in low cut shirts with puffy sleeves?? Forever??? And also this hot man will bite me??? Sign me UP I'll work graveyard shift somewhere

Ugh it suits him so well tho,,,, big cold corridors, nice clothes, fancy wine glasses, yearning from a distance, love letters sealed with wax, lots and lots of blood,,,,,, ehehehe I need him

And YEAH KITSUNE DAZAI LIKE THAT ONE MAYOI CARD

This bastard definitely embraces the more unsettling, inhuman aspects of himself. Being a little too tall, limbs a little too long, teeth a little too sharp even if he's mimicking a human. You look into his eyes too long and get a little dizzy, like looking over the edge of a cliff. Weird shit is always happening around him, though it's unclear whether that's because of his magic or because he's just Like That™.

And my god the sex. Absolutely insane sex on both sides. Chuuya has endless stamina and would want nothing more than to turn you while he's fucking you, drinking your blood until you're lightheaded and can barely move, letting him go as many rounds as he likes. Dazai digging his sharp teeth and claws into you, fucking you in weird places like alleyways or in the middle of the forest, chasing you through the city before pinning you to the ground and fucking your brains out. Plus he has a knot