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callsigns-haze · 2 months ago

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He holds me

Pairing: Xaden Riorson x reader

After a brutal mission, Garrick confronts Xaden for putting his little sister—his only remaining family—in danger, questioning how she could love someone who lets her bleed. Emotions explode until she snaps back that at least he holds her, prompting a raw, emotional fallout between the siblings.

Warning: This story contains strong emotional confrontations, sibling tension, and references to violence and injury. Themes of protection, trauma, and strained relationships.

The moment your boots hit the gravel of the flight field, you're barely steady before you're moving again—wiping blood from your temple with the back of your hand and ignoring the sting of a gash running down your arm. Chaire grumbles behind you, protective and restless, her wings half-flared as if still deciding whether to take off again. Beside you, Xaden lands clean and sharp, Sgaeyl letting out a low growl that ripples through the ground.

You're both tense. It hadn’t been a clean run.

Before either of you can speak, the shouting starts.

"Are you out of your godsdamned mind?!"

You don't even have time to turn before Garrick’s voice booms across the field like thunder. He’s sprinting toward you, armour unbuckled at the throat, his normally composed face twisted in fury. Imogen, Bodhi, and Liam trail behind him, but none of them make a move to stop him. They all look at you—and they look worried.

Xaden steps slightly forward, not enough to be obvious, but enough to remind anyone watching that you weren’t alone. That he'd been there.

“Don’t,” you warn your brother the moment he’s within reach, raising a shaky hand. “Not here.”

But Garrick doesn’t stop. He grabs your shoulder, eyes raking over the blood on your arm, the split in your lip, the tear in your gear. His voice drops, low and lethal. “You were supposed to be delivering supplies, not walking into a death trap. What the hell were you doing out there?”

You stiffen under his grip. “Following orders.”

“Whose orders?” he snaps, eyes flicking toward Xaden. “His?”

Xaden doesn’t flinch. “She volunteered. And she saved the mission.”

“She shouldn’t have had to!” Garrick’s voice cracks, the rage undercut by something more dangerous—fear.

“I��m a squad leader now,” you say tightly, jaw clenching. “You don’t get to decide where I go, Garrick.”

“You’re my sister,” he hisses. “I do when the choice is between you living and dying for some godsdamn crates of weapons.”

For a second, no one speaks. Even Chaire goes still behind you.

Then you step out of his grip.

“We don’t get to pick the easy missions anymore,” you say, steady despite the tremble in your hands. “Not if we want to win this war.”

Garrick looks like he’s been punched.

And then, quietly—“You’re all I’ve got left.”

The words hang heavy in the air.

But Garrick doesn’t stop there.

His gaze snaps to Xaden, the fury rekindling like a storm wind catching flame. “And you—” he spits, stalking forward, jabbing a finger toward his best friend’s chest, “—you’re supposed to protect her, not drag her into shit like this!”

Xaden doesn’t move. Doesn’t flinch. He just watches Garrick with that calm, too-sharp stillness he always wears like armour.

“I didn’t drag her anywhere,” he says, voice cold. “She chose—”

“She’s twenty years old!” Garrick roars. “Still in her second year! What the hell do you think you’re doing, letting her fly into ambushes and fire fights and warzones while you—while you watch?! While you let her bleed, Xaden?”

You shift beside them, but Garrick’s on a roll now, and it’s like he can’t stop the words from pouring out.

“You shouldn’t even be with her. You think this thing between you two is safe? You think it’s smart?” He gestures wildly between you. “This isn’t a fling at Basgiath anymore. This is war. And she’s too close to you. She’ll follow you anywhere—she almost died for you.”

“I’d die for her,” Xaden says simply.

But that only seems to push Garrick further.

“You already have! You’re already dragging her down with you and calling it love—what happens when she doesn’t come back next time, huh?” His voice cracks again. “What happens when you’re holding her while she bleeds out in your godsdamn arms?”

That’s when he turns on you.

“And you—” His eyes land on you like fire, pain cracking beneath every word. “How can you even love him when he does this to you? When he lets you get torn up, lets you walk into danger again and again—when he’s the one holding you while you bleed?”

You stare at him.

Your heart’s racing. Your knuckles are white from how tightly you’re clenching your fists.

And when you speak, your voice is soft. Deadly calm.

“At least he holds me.”

Garrick flinches.

You take a slow step forward, voice rising—not in volume, but weight.

“You want to talk about who’s there for me? Who knows what I face every day? Who doesn’t treat me like some breakable child?” You shake your head. “He doesn’t make me sit on the side-lines. He doesn’t try to protect me so much he ends up ignoring me.”

You look your brother in the eye.

“He holds me when I’m bleeding, Garrick. You weren’t even here to see it.”

Behind you, Xaden says nothing—but you can feel the way his eyes are locked on you. Grounding. Constant.

Just like he always is.

A/N: SO like my finals are in 8 weeks so I wont be posting much BUT I am taking blurb requests for our fourth wing men Credit to @empyreanevents for the divider

#fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #iron flame x reader #xaden x reader #fourth wing xaden #xaden rirorson x you #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson #xaden riorson x y/n #xaden riorson fanfic

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avifaunaa · 2 months ago

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share your soul with me [ unzip your skin, let me have a see ] [ l.m. + s.s. ]

Authors Note: I swear to god if you know me no you do not. I’m going to hell lmao. i had to split this into TWO parts with smut coming in the next one.

Masterlist

PART TWO

Pairing: Lottie Matthews x fem!reader x Shauna Shipman

Summary: Survival in the Wilderness with territorial Alphas and naturally violence-avoidant Betas was going well, all things considering. Your sister, Jackie Taylor, had worked hard to ensure a pack dynamic had formed before the crash and that it remained strong two years within the struggle for your lives. Until you presented, that is, as an Omega.

Content Warnings: I cannot stress this enough — this is a fic that contains A/B/O dynamics so if you aren't comfortable with that I do have multiple other non-a/b/o fics and don't plan on making this a super-regular thing. I’ve never written for this, but here we are.

Within regular Yellowjackets dynamics: Descriptions of injuries and illnesses, death and blood, discussions of + actual cannibalism, canon-typical violence, cult-like behaviors, the Wilderness being the Wilderness

A/B/O Warnings: pack / power dynamics, gender-norm discussions within ABO context, heat/rut cycles, presenting, r is distressed later in the chapter

Word Count: ~4.8k

The sobs and the screams were almost drowned under the sound of your own blood swimming in your years. How is it you've never noticed how loud your heartbeat is?

You weren’t supposed to even be here with your older sister’s soccer team, stuck fighting for survival and waiting for a rescue that may never come. Jackie wouldn't look you in the eye sometimes over it, anymore.

You were meant to still be back at the same University you all attended. One year behind most of the team -- some were in their final graduating years, some were in their third years like Jackie, Shauna, and Lottie. It was your first year away from home, fresh and wide-eyed and supposed to be attending frat parties you had no business being at and making mistakes you would save later first years from when you were in your second year.

Was there any point dwelling on it? You did not think so -- you clung to your older sister most of the time anyways.

Jackie was a formidable Alpha both in the field and off. She made a great captain and her leadership skills were second to none; but you were always privy to the side of Jackie that revealed more of what made her an Alpha. She was fiercely protective in nature and had been your guardian from the second you'd come into the world a wailing, pink-faced creature. It had kicked her instincts into gear, she had told you, having something so innocent and vulnerable to help her parents care for.

And so you became Jackie's shadow. You never presented -- not in any way that would declare you anything other than a Beta -- and that allowed you to drift through unnoticed in Jackie's circle [ in the world ] while keeping your head down and trouble away. It never kept your sister's overprotective nature from lashing out at times, but it turned unwanted attention off of you.

And it allowed you to become integrated within Jackie's pack -- the Yellowjackets team -- without seeming like an intruder or like anyone the team looked too closely or too long at. At most, you were simply the soft-spoken Beta sister of Jackie Taylor who shied away from sports herself and always had pink ribbons in her hair.

You were welcome within the dynamics of the pack your sister had created in the soccer team. Strange, quiet, often kept to herself -- but you always seemed to be there and thus the team saw you as belonging.

So why wouldn't you have been with them on the plane? Shauna had claimed a seat with Jackie [ "That's fine," you promised the Alpha shyly, cheeks pink when the taller woman beamed at you ], so you settled with Misty Quigley -- a strange Beta in her own right.

Everything had been a blur after the plane had taken off.

You woke up in excruciating pain in your left knee and your sinuses being crushed by the invasion of uncontrolled scents of death, of dying, angry Alphas and --

“Hey.” Hands encircled your cheeks and a comfort blanketed you. The familiar peach and vanilla scent [ Jackie, your hindbrain recognized on instinct, a rush of knowing filling you ] wrapped around you like a soothing second skin. "Oh, Watson," she murmured, tone cracking.

Watson. She was never a big reader -- but you had once convinced her to read some of the Sherlock Holmes books with you. The nicknames had stuck.

The air was so thick with distress from everyone around you that it was becoming so overwhelming, on top of the pain that was rippling down your knee in never-ending waves. A noise of your own distress was beginning to rise in the bottom of your throat as your sister's shaky hands stroked your face in an attempt to soothe.

"H-hurts," you garble out, eyes finally opening. You regret it instantly when you're greeted by Jackie's face above you spinning around in circles. She was bleeding from somewhere on her temple, blood fresh in a waterfall down the side of her cheek.

Something shifted slightly on her features -- or were you just imagining that?

"I know," the redhead responded, still keeping a careful hand on your cheek. You were no fool -- you could feel her shaking. "Don't look, okay? Are you cold?"

"A little," you murmured.

Jackie's scent suddenly soured, drowning out the surrounding scents but still choking you. You did not think she realized she was releasing it so strongly as she rapidly began to shift your shoulders closer into her lap. "Okay, okay . . . MISTY --"

The last thing you remember is hearing bloodcurdling screams that you would, in the future, come to understand were yours.

The cabin was blessing in not-so-great disguise. Coach Ben had lost an entire leg, some of the members of the team and another coach were lost in the process -- leaving behind two of his teenaged sons for your pack to care for. An unpresented boy, Javi, and a withdrawn Beta, Travis. They liquidated into the dynamic as well as they could considering what the shared experience was forcing on them.

You woke after initially passing out three days later, apparently, to a warm mid-day with Shauna hovering beside you. Most of the group was gone, Jackie included, but their scents were still fresh enough to tell you they hadn't been gone for more than an hour.

The scratching of paper had you weakly turning your head. Shauna was sitting dutifully at your side -- a couple of feet away -- writing in her journal with a furrowed brow and the side of her cheek sucked into her mouth.

For the first time since you were introduced to her by Jackie, she did not look like an Alpha. She just looked like . . . she simply looked like any other college girl, you'd surmised. Freckles dusted her face, but you wondered if, once the grime and injuries were washed off, more would reveal themselves to you.

Her scent was pleasant to your senses, as well, and had never irritated you like a lot of Alpha and Omega scents did. An earthy oak with an underlay of smoky that seemed to fit her just right.

You had been to doctors for scent sensitivity, an unusual ailment for Betas to be afflicted with. You had been tested for mis-presentation, underlying illnesses, and damaged sinuses. Nothing. You were just an outlier Beta -- sensitive to the other two presentations without having either of the traits to declare you either one.

You do not know how long you watched her, but you were eventually found out. A strand of hair shifted from her bun as she turned her head and met your gaze. She blinked in surprise as she instinctively shut her notebook.

"How long you been awake, Taylor?" she asked, setting the object to the side and turning her body to face you fully.

"Just a couple minutes," you rasp, pressing your shoulder upward against the tree you'd been leaned against so you could test your knee. "How bad?"

Her eyes drifted down to your knee, then back to your face. "Quigley has more medical expertise than we ever gave her credit for," she told you as she reached out to help you sit up, allowing you to escape the slumped over position you'd been in. "Your kneecap seems broken. She found some parts of the plane that had come apart during the crash and we worked to make a brace that would hopefully heal it."

Your eyes drift to your knee, splayed out straight. You noted your jeans had been torn to your upper thigh on that leg and some of the strips had been used to help tie a seatbelt from one of the plane's seats to a make-shift brace of a part of the plane.

"You won't be able to bend your knee very much, if it works right," Shauna added after a minute of silence as you stared at your injury.

"Okay," you said, swallowing. You hoped you weren't expressing too much anxiety in scent or body language as you came to comprehend your position right now. You're lucky at all they managed to get somewhat of a brace to try and work it out, but it may never heal right. Knee injuries were . . .

"At least I don't play soccer," you said with a shot toward humor when Shauna's hand drifted to your arm, radiating concern from her place near you.

Shauna snorted, and she seemed to be smiling at you a little more relaxed when you looked away from your knee and at her.

The girls who had left had returned in a jittery, excited mood. "We found a lake," Jackie told Shauna, eyes twinkling. "It's open skies and if a plane flies over they could see us. We could write an SOS on the shore.''

"Shouldn't we stay here?" you asked hesitantly from behind your sister. "What if a rescue team finds the crash? What if they're looking for us?"

Tai crossed her arms and kicked at some dirt. "We're running on rations and luck right now. The cabin is shelter until help gets us and the lake is a water source. We can make an HQ there at the very least."

It was hard to argue even as Jackie told everyone to lay out pros and cons of staying at the plane and going to the cabin. Eventually the pros of migrating to the new spot won out and everyone was given the afternoon to take what they wanted now and come back for the rest later.

Jackie had a familiar dusty pink backpack over her shoulder when she came striding over to you, a smirk on her face. "Ready to go on an adventure, Watson?"

You blinked. "Is that mine?"

She shrugged her shoulder with the backpack hoisted over it and confirmed, "Sure is. It has all your goodies in it. All you need to do is try standing up."

You rolled your eyes but felt tempted by the change of clothes you had in there alone. "No need to bribe me, Holmes. Get over here." You reached your hands out, looking pathetic you were sure.

The Alpha was oozing a smug confidence as she strides closer and wrapped her arm through yours and -- carefully -- hoisted you to your feet. You yelped out when you started putting pressure on both feet like you normally do, easing up on foot with the broken knee and allowing it to hover.

"Did any of your makeup survive?" you asked Jackie as you leaned into your older sister's warmth and letting her help you over to the gathering team.

The redhead scoffed in your ear. "I don't know. We're gonna come back later to search for more suitcases. Be happy I dragged your backpack out."

You kissed her cheek. "Best big sister in the world."

Jackie pretends to look disgusted when her free hand flew up to wipe her cheek, but the Alpha in her seemed pleased to provide for family -- or anyone -- who needed her help.

Lottie and Shauna hovered nearby the both of you as Jackie became your human crutch. Shauna in particular was aggravated as she hovered behind you and curled a lip at anyone who approached with an offer to help. Lottie simply became a comforting presence, talking to you as you tried to walk through the pain.

You knew the team was dragging slower because of you, but it’s not exactly like any of you were on a time crunch. The walk was filled with revive and hopeful chatter as the forest seemed to open up the closer you got to this cabin and the lake nearby.

And finally, you were rewarded. The view was breathtaking in and of itself — the wide open view, the singing of nearby birds, and even the lake looked welcoming.

Scents started to change from despair and uncertainty to excitement and joy as the girls started ripping away from the pack a few at a time to dart toward the shore of the lake.

Jackie squeezed your waist reassuringly, but urged you toward what you now realized was the cabin. It looked rather old, as though it hadn’t been cared for in years. It wasn’t in shambles but it would take effort on everyone’s part to make it livable while you waited for rescue.

Jackie helped you settle onto the front steps of the cabin and followed you down, resting against you like she knew what you needed was your sister’s comfort.

Shauna stayed nearby instead of meeting the rest of the pack at the lake, but Lottie had parted from you guys with a wave.

You placed your head on Jackie’s shoulder, watching the backpack she carried for you flop down on her other side. “Hey, checking in. How’s your knee?” she murmured.

“It hurts,” you admitted tiredly, reaching a hand down to rub at the injury wrapped together with spare parts and old shirts.

“I’m sorry, Watson,” Jackie started, unable to prevent the shakiness from entering her voice as she did, “I’m so fucking sorry. If I hadn’t dragged you . . .”

You swallowed when she started this line of thinking, of guilt-eating anxiety you saw overwhelm her before. You place a hand on hers in her lap, settling her rocking knees. “Jacks I don’t blame you,” you said quietly, glancing up to make sure Shauna wasn’t listening to close. She wasn’t, busy inspecting the sturdiness of the cabin’s porch beams.

“None of this is your fault,” you continued with an attempt at a reassuring smile. “Let’s not cause either of us more distress if we can prevent it. Please don’t let me be a contribute to a mental breakdown.”

A huffed breath of laughter from behind you. Shauna had perhaps been listening closer than you believed, not that you were discussing anything of sensitive nature.

You knew Jackie. Your sister, your greatest protector, your best friend. She carried the responsibility and wellbeing of her pack — her team — like it was a burden she alone had to endure. It made her both a great Alpha, one that can be assured reliable and capable, and her own greatest foe.

Shauna knew this too — she had been Jackie’s constant next to you in the redhead’s upbringing. They were attached at the hip even before they presented and instead of seeing one another as a threat they had each other’s backs. Jackie relied on Shauna to be another set of eyes on the team, to see and hear what she couldn’t. And Shauna — Shauna was a different Alpha that fit Jackie’s like a puzzle. They were a duo that couldn’t be challenged.

Bring in Lottie . . .

Lottie had come in during Jackie and Shauna’s first year of university. She had simply . . . “Slipped in,” Shauna offered during their break home and catching up with your family. “She slipped in. But she’s great.”

You weren’t positive Shauna wasn’t in love with the brunette Alpha, from the way she talked about her all the way to meeting her and seeing Shauna interact with her. They were different than Shauna and Jackie, or Jackie and Lottie.

They were an enigma you had always found fascinating but kept your eyes from wandering too dangerously.

Jackie had been talking, you not listening. You drifted off into your thoughts and only managed to get shaken out when you felt a nudge.

“Watson, you with me?”

You blinked at her. She watched you with mild concern, holding one of your ribbons from your backpack delicately in her hands and fiddling with it, twirling it around her fingers before loosening it and pulling at it.

“Sorry, yes I’m with you,” you respond with a futile attempt at hiding your brainwandering.

Jackie’s eyebrow quirked and a small smirk pulled her lips. “Liar,” she teased, but didn’t sound too upset. “Are you upset I didn’t take you to the lake?”

You shrugged. “I can go to the lake tomorrow, or when my knee is less sore. I don’t think I can walk that much again right now.”

Your sister nodded in agreement. “I didn’t think so. I don’t want the materials we’re using to get ruined if you swim and we just put them on . . . So I thought . . .”

“Good idea, as usual, Holmes,” you praised, offering a mock salute to which earned you a scoff.

1 /12 Years Later — Winter, The Wilderness

“More snowfall?” The voice of Jackie drags you out from a fitful sleep, the heat of the fire in the cabin forcing your eyes to remain closed.

“Bad,” Natalie’s cold-soaked voice rasped, half-muffled behind what was probably the scarf she used to keep her face covered from the piercing storm while she went hunting. “No visibility.”

For a moment the only sound that could be heard in the crowded cabin was the wood crackling from the fire. Then Jackie sighed. “Thank you for trying.”

“It’s the third day in a row.”

“I know, Nat. We’ll — we’ll work something out.” Jackie didn’t sound so assured, but her scent remained as steady and calm as she could when she was this concerned.

“We . . . I don’t want to have to . . . Again.”

“We may not have a choice,” your sister whispered, “but neither do I.”

It was a dismissal, and Nat shuffled through the cabin to get to her usual spot near the back window. You heard the press of her shoe near your head as she treaded lighter. Jackie rejoined you, and you allowed her movement to make you pretend that’s what woke you.

“Jackie?”

“Did I wake you?” The Alpha settled herself back into your shared nest. Your making with what few materials you had. You had considered discussing with Jackie about making a nest for the entire pack, for warmth; but so many people were on edge and you weren’t entirely sure how they’d take a Beta making the offer.

“No,” you lied, turning around and pushing yourself up on an elbow to gaze at your sister. She had bags under her eyes, shadowed by the firelight that danced off the corners of the cabin. “Have you slept?”

“No,” Jackie echoed though you feared she was being truthful in that regard, pulling her ragged blanket toward herself. “It’s getting . . . Well the snow isn’t getting lighter right now.”

You eyed her with suspicion simply from how she seemed to avoid saying exactly what she was thinking and the furrow of her brows.

“It’s going to be okay,” you vowed to her, reaching your hands out to warm them at the fire while your back was turned to her. “We’re going to be fine.”

Until you got sick.

The body aches and dizziness were what came first. Misty was adamant that you had no fever, even if you felt warmer inside of your own skin. Usually you tended to the fires and helped with laundry when your knee permitted it, but currently it was mid-afternoon and you could barely crawl out of bed.

Jackie was pacing like a rabid animal, unsure of how to help you but feeling unable to physically approach. She was avoiding you in the same breath that she was hovering from a distance.

You ate your rations when they were offered [ Melissa was the Wilderness’ choice this season, the sacrifice for greater success of the rest ]. You were ravenous, and though the piercing stomach pains were telling in your continued hunger, you did not mention it.

Sleep, food, wake to shiver and go to the bathroom. Repeat. Eyes were following your every movement, mostly from Shauna and Tai — like they were studying an animal at an exhibit. Shauna’s were shadowed over as though they were hiding something from everyone else. It terrified you and drew you to her — and somehow, her scent made your mouth water.

Another three days bouts of sleep and shakes was when the nesting started.

It took the team by surprise when you crawled out of your own barely shaped nest, created by whatever you and Jackie had managed to use as blankets and clothing when it was colder at night, and started seeking out items. You later would hardly remember any of it, just going on an instinct you didn’t know you had.

Lottie and Shauna’s scents stuck out the strongest and as the most soothing — so you went to their beds first. Neither of the Alphas, who stood near their beds, tried stop you [ nor did anyone else ] when you started grabbing small items from their makeshift beds.

You snagged something of Misty’s and Mari's— even though they were Betas — and you definitely may have something from Tai in the attack while she was out with Van.

It went unaddressed, but there was a fascination as the women watched you work. Your body was aching like it did when you first landed and yet you moved without even consciously thinking about it. Autopilot in full force and you do not remember much of it.

The fever eventually struck a day or two later and waking up that morning feeling it in its' entirety was a hectic one. Your burning eyes peeled open from a long sleep, and as your senses returned to you the barrage of aggression and tension filled every pore. The air was thick and when your eyes adjusted, you noted most girls moved with a cautious stiffness.

You did not see very much of it with Jackie apparently using her body as a sort of shield. You noticed, blearily, Melissa make hesitant movements past you and Jackie's body turned with each step, keeping herself as a wall between yourself and the other Alpha.

Claw-like sensations ripped at your lower back neck, urging you to try and make sense of your surroundings. Uneasy, nervous, you felt so many things and -- "Jacks?" you managed to slur, fists curling into the thick nest you had unknowingly made, "Jackie what's going on?"

Your voice seemed to snap her out of some sort of mindset. Her face angled slightly back toward you without moving the rest of her body. "Hey, Watson," she greeted softly, tone a lulling purr she used when she knew something had upset you, "How are you feeling?"

You started sitting up as she spoke and she moved quickly in response; a hand curling around your arm to help you. While her touch was usually welcome and encouraged, her fingers making contact with your skin set off a reaction you'd never experienced.

You whined lowly as the touch brought on a burn. Why did it feel wrong? Why did your stomach lurch, curl into sickly knots, urging you to pull away and bite at her fingers for daring to --

“You’re presenting.”

Lottie's announcement from her spot feet away was met with silence so intense that only the howling of the wind against the rafters of the cabin was heard.

Presentingpresentingpresenting—

Tai and Van were hunched with Nat near their spots by the front door, the Alpha and two Betas gazing your way with soft eyes, concerned frowns.

Not many of the other Alphas were in the cabin right now, you noted, as your eyes darted around.

No.

“Lottie,” Jackie snarled with warning, followed by a fast rise to her feet that momentarily left you exposed. Your head was spinning as Lottie got closer — oh, she was —

“As an Omega,” Lottie continued as though Jackie hadn’t said anything at all. Her dark eyes were steadily firm on you; an Alpha who was awful relaxed while supposedly in close proximity to an Omega in their first heat.

Your fingers dug into the nest you’ve created for yourself in your haze. Now you understood, with a sort of unrecognizable prick of satisfaction [ they're providing, pack is caring, a low purr you did not have days earlier echoed in your head ], the lack of protest in your doings — the Alphas not stopping you when you entered, uninvited, to their own beds to snag their warm clothes, the Betas who wouldn’t meet your gaze.

With that understanding also came a wave of dread that covered you like a thick sandstorm covers any form of life not smart enough to get out of the way. You sat on your knees as Lottie's never-ending gaze rest upon you with an expression you could not read.

And then tears filled your eyes. You lifted your hand to bite down on your knuckles to stifle the sounds -- but you could smell your own pheromones pouring out of you like the tears you cried. You were spiraling quickly, unable to yet control it and the overwhelming realization that your entire life as you knew it was changing.

"I didn't . . ." you whispered, choking on more tears, teeth sliding across your chapped knucklebone, "I had . . . no idea. I wouldn't have kept this . . ."

Jackie's head snapped back around to look at you fully and the panic in her eyes was not helping. She moved slow and crouched in front of you. "Oh, Watson, we know that. We know you didn't know. How could you?" She reached out a hand, as though to soothe a wild animal, but her scent -- normally a comfort you took readily -- was currently sour and had you rearing back from her offer.

Her expression revealed hurt, briefly, before she lowered her hands to her knees. "You must be . . . pretty deep into it if you can't stand the scent of me anymore," she said a little sadly.

You blinked owlishly at her, digesting her words and trying to connect them to what you learned about Omegas in biology. You recalled [ after a few moments of thought ] that Omegas in a heat cycle will suddenly reject the scents of Alphas or Betas they're related to, as their biology and the changes that came with a cycle began to prepare for said Omega to seek out a suitable mate. Familial scents would sour and attempts at comfort were met with resistance until after an Omega was mated or the cycle was over.

You had an Omega friend who commented on how disgusting her family smelled for days after she returned to classes after her first heat. It took a week for it to return to normal, she had told you.

You tried to give your sister an apologetic whine, crooning and deep with signs of distress. A noise you never knew you could produce -- you were a Beta for twenty one years of your life.

"We need to move her to the attic," Tai said from her spot. Your eyes moved to her and you breathed out in relief when the Alpha seemed to be showing little interest in you. You had suspected she mated with Van, but the lack of interest seems to prove your theory.

"My nest," you weakly protested, palms running along the pathetic little nest you made. Not that you had many options in the wilderness.

"We'll move it upstairs with you," Jackie promised, nodding at you. "Make it nice and cozy, less crowded."

The door opened suddenly and a snowy Shauna entered, bringing int he scent of fresh snow and the oak you familiarized her with. You were drawn to her so intensely like you were with Lottie.

She glanced at you very briefly before beating her shoes of snow and stalking over to Lottie. You watched intently as the two Alphas lowered their heads together and murmured something that you could not hear even when you strained to listen.

Jackie was a ball of nervous energy as the Alphas gave you space, and Jackie, to move your nest and belongings up into the attic. You couldn't help but feel as though you were being isolated for an illness . . . but the rational side of you that remained understood why this had to be done.

That didn't mean you hurt less as you were forced to recreate your nest and curl up ride out the pain on your own, away from your pack and processing what this meant for the future.

PART TWO

Again you absolutely do not know me if you know me.

#lottieshauna #lottie matthews #shauna shipman #shauna shipman x reader #lottie mathews x reader #lottieshauna x reader #the yellowjackets #yellowjackets #fanfiction

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wendichester · 4 months ago

Text

﹢﹒ ✦⊹﹒cursed love,

summary. love conquers all. or does it?

pairing. sam winchester x reader ; angsty

wordcount. 656

It starts with a sharp, searing jolt when Sam grabs your arm to pull you away from the hex bag. You gasp, jerking back instinctively, and he stumbles away too, clutching his hand as if he’s been burned.

“What the hell was that?” you manage, cradling your arm.

Sam’s eyes are wide with alarm, flicking from you to the cursed object now lying harmlessly on the ground. “I—I don’t know,” he says, his voice tight. He steps toward you, reaching out, but hesitates mid-motion. “Did that… hurt you?”

“Yes,” you say, the pain still fresh and raw. “Did it hurt you?”

Sam nods grimly, his brow furrowing. “Yeah.”

Realization dawns like a slow, cruel dawn. The witch. Her smug smile flashes in your mind before she vanished into thin air, her parting words sharp as a blade: “Enjoy your little love story while you can.”

“Sam,” you whisper, your throat tightening. “I think she cursed us.”

His face darkens, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he processes what this means. “No,” he mutters, shaking his head. “No, we’ll figure this out. We always do.”

But hours later, after scouring every book, every scrap of lore Bobby had, and everything the Man of Letters had in the bunker, you’re no closer to breaking the curse. The truth hangs heavy between you: every touch, every brush of skin, now brings unbearable pain.

You sit slumped on the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself to keep from reaching for Sam, who paces the room like a caged animal. He’s barely said a word, but his face says it all—he’s terrified.

“Sam,” you say softly, breaking the silence.

He stops mid-stride, his eyes locking onto yours.

“We’ll figure it out,” you say, forcing a smile that you don’t feel.

His expression crumbles, and for the first time, he looks utterly lost. “What if we don’t?”

“Don’t go there—”

“No, listen to me.” His voice is raw now, like it’s costing him everything to keep it steady. “What if we don’t find a way to fix this? What if… what if I can’t touch you ever again?”

Your heart aches at the crack in his voice, and you want nothing more than to reach out to him, to comfort him, but you don’t dare.

“We will,” you insist.

“But what if we don’t?” he repeats, his frustration breaking through. “You mean everything to me. How am I supposed to—” He cuts himself off, his chest rising and falling heavily.

“Sam…”

He takes a shaky breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “I can’t lose you,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d rather live with the pain than live without you.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and suddenly, the tears you’ve been holding back spill over. You press your hands to your face, your shoulders shaking with sobs.

“Hey, hey,” Sam says, his voice breaking as he kneels in front of you, keeping a careful distance. “Don’t cry, please. We’ll get through this. I’ll find a way. I swear.”

You drop your hands, looking at him through blurred vision. “I don’t care about the pain either,” you say, your voice trembling. “I just… I can’t stand not being close to you.”

For a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, the distance between you feeling like an uncrossable chasm. But then Sam clenches his fists, his jaw tightening with determination.

“I’ll fix this,” he vows, his hazel eyes burning with resolve. “Even if it takes everything I’ve got.”

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Okay,” you whisper.

And as he rises to his feet, you see it in his eyes—the sheer willpower that has saved countless lives, that has pulled both of you through the darkest moments. If anyone can find a way to break this curse, it’s Sam.

But until then, all you can do is endure.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @nervoussystemss ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester angst #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fic #supernatural #.docx

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crowsofdarkness · 4 months ago

Text

Soldat: Chapter One

-gif not mine. credit to owner-

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Female Agent! Reader. Slight Steve Rogers x Female Agent! Reader

Content Warnings: language, 18 + implied smut, angst, fluff, kidnapping, violence.

Summary: Agent Y/N has worked alongside Steve Rogers at SHIELD for some time all while keeping a dark secret from everyone. Until one day that darkness faces her head on and she's forced to make a choice. Continue fighting along side Captain America? Or find her home once again with Soldat?

Authors Note: This was originally published on my old blog as a trilogy so I will be in the slow process of adding it to this blog. This is the first of the trilogy and will take place during The Winter Soldier. If anyone is interested in being tagged, let me know!

A soft breeze came through the curtains in my living room as my eyes scanned the same sentence in the book that was placed in my lap. The sentence that I had reread four times now. Closing the book with a groan, I set it on the other end of the couch and grabbed my phone from the coffee table in front of me.

No new messages.

I pocketed my phone while pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. Worry etched in my bones as I realized that I hadn’t heard from Steve in over 48 hours. He never went that long without sending some kind of message back to me. It was supposed to be a simple “save the hostages from a ship in the middle of the ocean. It’ll take a day tops.” Steve words. So here I was, two days later wondering what the hell went wrong.

“Stupid ankle,” I cursed my sprained ankle as it was the reason I couldn’t go on the current mission.

I had tweaked it a few weeks back and Steve wanted to make sure it was 100% before going back in the field. No matter how hard I tried to convince him I was fine, Steve could tell in the small limp that I was lying.

I’d been on Team Captain America for almost a year now, Nick recruiting me because of my background. Three years on New York Swat and almost five as a secret agent for the FBI. There was more to my past, which helped mold me into the agent I was today but that was a part of my life that I kept hidden from everyone, including Steve. There was a time in my life where I was at my lowest and darkest; however, as much as that moment in my life caused me many emotional and permanent scars, I don’t think I would be where I was today.

My finger ran over a small scar on my wrist as I thought back to that time, years ago, and my skin quivered as those memories came back. A dark, cold room with only one bed and the looming fear of when the next time would be when I would see him; would it also be the last time? Would my end be near?

“Christ, I haven’t thought of him in years.” I shuttered, pushing those thoughts away and tried to think of Steve.

In the year that I had been working side by side with him, Steve and I had become incredibly close. Soft touches, hushed conversions just between the two of us, and stares that never went unnoticed. We weren’t official, afraid of it getting in the way of work so we would never make it past first base; hell we never even made it close to first base.

Tired eyes read the clock that hung above the fireplace and a soft sigh left my lips. Calling him would be a waste of time because I knew he never kept his phone on him while on the field, it always stayed on the jet, so I decided to send him a text.

I should have figured it would take you longer than a day without me.-Y/N.

I didn’t even have a chance to set my phone down because a few seconds later it was buzzing and Steve’s face appeared on my screen, indicating he was face timing me.

“Thank god I actually look somewhat decent,” I muttered before hitting the green button, accepting the call.

Steve’s bright smile warmed my heart as I took in his appearance. Soot covered his forehead and chin, his typically styled hair was a mess, almost falling in his eyes as those tired blue eyes stared at me.

“Hi,” I breathed.

“Hey yourself. What time is it there?” Steve questioned.

I looked at the clock before my gaze rested back on Steve. “Just past 6 in the morning. How’d the mission go?”

Steve leaned back in the chair of the jet and ran a hand over his face, unbeknownst to him smearing the soot over his face. I suppressed a giggle, not wanting to let him know.

“You’re cleared to go back on duty. Starting three days ago.”

“I told you! We could have been finished days ago and you wouldn’t have needed me to water your plants.” I joked.

Steve shot up. “You have been watering them, right?”

The seriousness in his voice made me roll my eyes.

“Oh my god, grandpa. Yes, I did water your plants. You know, I forget that you’re 95 years old then you act like that and suddenly it all comes back.” I said with a small smile.

“You love me,” Steve gave me a smug smile.

My heart flipped. You have no idea.

“So when are you going to be back?” I changed the subject.

“The jet is landing at SHIELD in a few hours. I have to do a few errands but then I’m all yours,” the softness in his smile warmed my heart.

“The usual?” I asked.

“I’ve called in the pizza. It should be ready to go by seven.”

“I’ll bring the beers then,” I smiled

Every time we complete a mission, Steve and I would meet at his place for pizza and beers. It had been our tradition for the past year, no one else from the team joining.

Just us.

Steve’s lips moved as he was about to say something but a certain redhead appeared from behind him, coming into view.

“NAT!” I yelled, “I miss you!”

Her smile mirrored my own.

“You are forbidden from ever taking leave again. This one almost forgot his shield.” Natasha pointed at Steve.

“I did not!” He defended.

“Oh Stevie, what would you do without me?” I cooed and noticed his cheeks burned red.

We stared at each other for a few seconds and if feeling some type of tension between us, Nat shook her head before ruffling Steve’s hair.

“You’ve got something on your face.”

Steve looked closer into his phone and I swore, his cheeks were a deep crimson now.

“You let me talk to you like this the entire time?” Steve questioned, quietly thanking Nat who gave him a towel.

I shrugged. “I thought it was a cute look.”

“Maybe if you stopped giving Y/N bedroom eyes, you would have noticed how dirty you were,” Natasha teased.

“Nat!” I scoffed, feeling some warmth spread to my stomach.

“What?” She shrugged, “Someone has to call him out."

Shaking my head with a laugh, I gave them a small wave goodbye and told Steve I would see him later.

I ended the phone call with a sigh and felt excitement spread through my veins as the thought of being alone with Steve kept creeping in the back of my mind.

“Where the hell are you Rogers,” I grumbled as I checked my phone for the fifth time since arriving at his apartment twenty minutes ago.

I had called and texted him wondering when he would be home but was met with silence. My fingers slid over his door frame before peaking under the doormat hoping to find a spare key but nothing.

“You’re damn lucky you’re cute,” I cursed when I checked my phone yet again.

“Talking to yourself?”

Spinning on my heels towards the voice, my heart leaped when I saw Steve ascend the staircase, wearing the brown leather jacket that looked so good on him. He had the box of pizza in one hand and was messing with his keys in the other.

“I left my spare key at home. You should really leave another one somewhere.” I noted.

“I do,” he nodded towards his neighbor across the hall, “Kate has one.”

“Oh,” I sighed.

As if the Gods’ wanted to torture me more with the thought of Steve’s neighbor across the hall, she came out from her apartment. Adjusting the laundry basket on her hip, she smiled towards Steve.

Jealous eyes watched as they chatted, Steve flirting almost effortlessly with her. She giggled at a lame joke he told and I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest. My shoulders slouched in anger when Steve invited her over to join us.

“I don’t want to impose,” she looked between Steve and I.

Steve quickly shook his head. “No, we’re just friends.”

My heart dropped to my stomach. “Yeah, friends.”

“Maybe next time. I’ve got a load in the wash.”

Steve agreed the next time and I had to turn away as he hugged Kate.

“You could have been a little nicer to her,” Steve asked as he leaned against his door.

“I’ve been waiting almost a half hour for you. I’m tired and hungry so sorry I didn’t feel like being friendly,” I snapped but immediately apologized when I saw the hurt flash across his face.

“It’s been a really long day,” I sighed while pinching my eyes shut.

“Hey, it’s alright.” Steve pulled me into his chest and left a soft kiss to the top of my head. “I’m sorry I’m late. I was visiting a friend at the V.A center.”

My brows rose. “The V.A center?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, Sam. I met him a few days ago. He’s nice, I can set you up with him if you want?”

“No thanks,” I scrunch my face, “I can find a guy by myself.”

“How’s that working out for you?” Steve joked.

Scoffing, I gave him a slight push and I nodded towards the door. “My pizza is getting cold.”

He laughed but his body froze leaning an ear against the door.

“What?” I questioned.

“My record player is on.” Steve glanced over to me.

I leaned my ear against the door but shook my head, “I don’t hear anything.”

“You don’t have super soldier hearing,” Steve teased. “Did you leave it on?”

“I swear I turned it off when I left the other day.” I promised.

Getting into Captain America mode, Steve shielded me as he slowly unlocked the door, pushing it open. I slipped my knife out of my boot as I followed close behind. The music vibrated off the walls as Steve grabbed his shield from its place on the wall. The knife flipped in my fingers with ease as we reached the living room and saw the slouched figure sitting in the chair.

Nick Furry.

“I don’t remember giving you a key,” Steve sighed while leaning against the wall.

“Did you really think I would need one?,” Nick defended while sitting up, “My wife kicked me out.”

“I didn’t know you were married,” I admitted.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Nick admitted.

“I know, Nick. That’s the problem,” Steve declared while turning on the light.

Goosebumps pricked my skin when I took in Nick’s appearance. He had a giant gash to the side of his head and blood was dripping down onto Steve’s chair. I wanted to ask what happened but he held up a finger to silence me while he turned off the light. Nick typed a message into his phone before showing us.

Ears everywhere.

Steve and I shared a look before our eyes glanced around the apartment. Steve tensed up next to me, the anger of being watched rose from within and he cursed under his breath. All of his private moments suddenly weren’t so private anymore.

“I’m sorry to do this but I had no other place to crash,” Nick showed us a new message on his phone.

Shield Compromised.

“What the fuck,” I cursed.

“Who else knows about your wife?” Steve continued to play along, in case it was true that his apartment was bugged.

Nick stood with a groan and limped over to us, clutching his side. “Just my friends.”

Just us. The new message on his phone read.

Steve scoffed. “Is that what we are, Nick?”

“Steve,” I warned, “Now isn’t the time for whatever beef you have with him.”

“That’s up to you,” Nick admitted.

The floor beneath our feet shook as a scream erupted from my throat when the wall behind Nick exploded in gunfire. Steve grabbed my waist and pulled me into his chest as we watched in horror as Nick’s limp body fell to the ground.

“What the fuck?!” I yelled.

“Get away from the window!” Steve demanded, pulling Nick’s body in the hallway with us.

He went to look out the window to see if he was able to see the shooter but Nick grasped his arm stopping him.

He opened his hand and a hard drive sparkled from the light outside.

“Don’t. Trust. Anyone.” Nick sputtered before passing out.

“Steve, what the hell is going on?” My voice quivered with fear.

Before Steve could answer, his front door busted open and Kate walked in, gun armed and aimed.

“Captain Rogers, I’m Agent 13, Shield Special Service.” Kate said, walking further into Steve’s apartment.

“Kate? What the hell are you doing here?” I questioned.

“I’ve been assigned to protect Steve,” She defended.

“On whose order?” Steve snapped.

Kate set her gun down before nodding towards Nick. “His.”

Steve and I shared a look and giving him a slight nod, I turned my attention towards Kate. “You should call it in, Agent.”

“Foxtrot is down and unresponsive. I need EMT’S.” Kate ignored me as she talked into the radio.

“Do we have a twenty on the shooter?”

Steve peaked around the corner and grabbed my hand, pulling me with him. “Tell them we’re in pursuit.”

Not asking any questions, I let Steve wrap his arm around my waist as we ran through the window, literally, and felt the ground vanish beneath our feet. Glass shattered around us as we landed hard on the floor of the building across the street.

“Ow, that’s gonna leave a mark,” I groaned, rising to my feet taking off in a chase after the shooter.

Steve was just a few paces ahead of me while the shooter was on the roof above us, his heavy footsteps echoing through the empty offices. Steve busted through doors and glass windows, making it easier for me to keep up with him.

“There has to be a staircase to the roof somewhere!” I yelled before I watched through the window in front of us as the shooter jumped down onto the roof of the building in front.

“We’re going through the window, aren't we?” I semi whined.

“Yup!”

Suddenly, Steve barreled his way through the window rolling onto his knees and threw his shield at the shooter. The broken glass crunched beneath my boots as I came to a sudden halt when my eyes landed on the man who had caught Captain America’s shield mid throw.

Long brown locks.

Blue eyes.

A metal arm.

My mouth ran dry while my hands shook, unable to move out of the way as the shield came flying back towards me. Ears rang in silence as the blood drained from my face, memories of that same metal arm slamming into me like a brick wall. The same man that I thought of earlier for the first time in years was standing right in front of me, in the flesh.

“Y/N!”

Steve’s voice brought me back as I fell to the ground with his body on mine. With the shield gripped tight in one hand, his other gently cupped my cheek. Steve pulled my face to look into his eyes; however, I couldn’t focus. I ignored the feeling that took over my body when Steve pressed his hips into mine, unknowingly, and licked my dry lips.

My past life had just barreled into me; a private part of my life that absolutely no one knew about and suddenly, I was very terrified of them finding out.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #bucky barnes and reader #the winter soldier #marvel #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier smut #bucky barnes x agent!reader #james barnes smut #james barnes imagine #james bucky barnes #james barnes #james buchanan barnes #soldat bucky barnes

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storiesofmyhead · 3 months ago

Text

Ghost - Wally Clark

Anastasia Nears had loved Wally Clark since she was a kid.

Wally Clark had noticed Anastasia Nears the second she walked into Split Rivers High.

But Anastasia was born in 1999.

And Wally Clark was born in 1964.

Warning: Swearing, Death, Murder

Prologue

"No!" Wally yells, "Turn around! Annie! Turn around!" He begs and pleads however he knows nothing he does can stop what was about to happen.

"Fuck! No." He whimpers, watching as the love-of-his-life was about to get murdered in his football jersey, but the hands of his football coach.

Sliding down the lockers, his hands pull at his hair as tears run down his face. "No, no, no, no." He mumbles repeatedly, shaking his head. The scene of her body getting knocked unconscious as she is strung up like a pig for slaughter. Hung in the very same locker room she would get ready for games in.

Staring at her body, he watched her convulse, before going still. Praying that she felt nothing in the process. His eyes glued on her dead, hanging body.

This was something he would never forget, a scene that he would never be able to erase from his mind.

The day the love-of-his-life died, but also the day god answered his prayers, the day she was brought to him.

Whimpering and shaking, the young girl rocks herself back and forth looking for some kind of comfort to her situation. However, nothing could comfort her in this moment. She had died. She had been murdered by the hands of someone she was supposed to trust. Someone the school was supposed to trust. The football head coach, Mr. Dauley. She had been strangled in the cheer locker room. And worst of all, everyone she knew thought it was a suicide. She wasn't suicidal!

She could hear the students murmuring and gossiping about, 'why would she does this to her family and friends?' or 'her life was perfect, this is so sad.'

Why couldn't everyone just stop talking. She could hear them, but they couldn't hear her. She could see them, but they couldn't see her! Why couldn't they see or hear her! She racked her brain for answers she couldn't find. The only thing could find was two questions.

'What is happening to her?'

and

'What did she do to deserve this?'

The tears had stopped a while ago, now she sat silent and numb. The final thing that broke her was her best friend, Alice Cambell, her cheer co-captain, finding her deceased hanging body. Her screams echoed through the locker room, people busting in when they heard her. The other cheerleaders gasping in horror as they try to comfort Alice's sobbing, trembling body.

It's been 2 days since Anastasia had arrived in her own personal hell. Watching her classmates and teammates live their lives as if she wasn't sitting on the floor, curled in a ball, forever 18.

But at least she had Wally.

Wally Clark, football player, Wally Clark. He had sat there with her, comforting her as she watched the events go down as he whispered small comforting nothings into her ear. Hugging her body close to his, trying to shield her eyes from the horror that was unraveling in front of her.

Little to her knowledge, Wally had watched her murder, as he screamed and cried for someone, anyone to help her, save her. He cried and cried until she took her last breath. After that he waited in the locker room for her spirit to appear, wanting to comfort her as she went through the different stages of grief. Something he didn't have, when he passed.

She was still wearing her uniform, clad with his jersey on her back and number on her cheek.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. It'll be ok. I promise." He whispered, her head nodding back, still unknowing of the man that had been sitting with her.

Her grief causing her to become numb and empty to the outside world and what was happening around her. Her eyes were un-focused staring off into the distance.

"How about we get you up and moving, hm?" Wally softly mutters. Almost scared that if he talked to loud that he would scare her off.

"Ok." She mumbled back numbly.

Wally's arms hooking underneath her armpits as he carefully and softly helping her stand.

"That's good. Now how about we get you out of this room." His voice calm and soft as he slowly guides her out of the room full of bad memories.

Taking a step out of the locker room had felt like a massive weight was lifting off of her shoulders. She could feel herself slowly coming back into reality or whatever her reality was now. It was night so all the students had gone home hours before and Wally had finally managed to get her out of the dreaded room.

Wally Clark knew Anastasia Nears. He knew almost everything about her, from her favorite color to her family problems. He had been there with her through most things, though she didn't know that.

Slowly coming back into consciousness, her eyes traveled up his arm and to the soft features on his face. Putting two and two together, she takes a step back and out of his arms.

"What? What did I do?" Wally asked, his face dropping at the sudden movements away from him, from the girl.

"You-" She points, eyes squinting in confusion and shock.

"Me?" Wally's head tilts as he points back at himself.

"You- You're Wally Clark." Her eyes widen, her face instantly reddening from the sight of him in front of her. It was him. He was the voice comforting her. Wally Clark. THE Wally Clark. Her all-time crush.

"Last time I checked." A goofy smile appears on his face, as he takes a slow step toward her.

"Oh my god." She exhales, her eyes slowly fluttering shut.

"Oh fuck!" She hears Wally exclaim before everything goes dark.

As Anastasia lands in his arms, he looks down at her admiring her face before picking her up bridal style and carrying her towards his makeshift bed in the nurse's office.

#wally clark fanfiction #wally clark #school spirits season 2 #school spirits #wally clark x reader #wally clark imagine

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synity · 2 months ago

Text

Don’t Tell My Brother (Oh Wait… He Knows)

The stage lights dimmed as the final note of SEVENTEEN's concert echoed through the venue. The crowd roared, lightsticks swaying like stars in a sea of midnight blue. You stood off to the side of the stage, breathless and glowing from the adrenaline of dancing through a flawless performance.

Your eyes instinctively found him.

DK your sunshine, your secret, your boyfriend of one year. He grinned from the main stage, sweat-slick hair sticking to his forehead, eyes scanning until he found you, too. He gave you a discreet thumbs-up and mouthed, "You did amazing."

You smiled back, biting your lip to hide it. You weren’t supposed to make it obvious. No one knew about your relationship.

Well… almost no one.

The members knew, of course. Hoshi caught on first—he’d walked in on you two sharing earbuds in the practice room. Mingyu had noticed how DK always saved you a seat at lunch. Joshua just smiled one day and said, “You look happier lately,” with that knowing twinkle in his eyes.

They all promised to keep it quiet.

Except for one person.

S.Coups. Your older brother. Leader of SEVENTEEN. Overprotective, dramatic, slightly terrifying when it comes to you, S.Coups.

He didn’t know.

Not yet.

But all that changed the night of the anniversary surprise.

After the concert, you snuck back into the studio while everyone was unwinding. DK had set up a tiny surprise a soft little cake from your favorite café, fairy lights strung lazily across the mirrors, and a small plushie holding a note that said, "Happy 1 Year, my star."

You turned around to see him standing there with that shy smile you loved. “You like it?” he asked, walking up with his hands behind his back.

“Are you kidding?” you laughed, heart swelling. “It’s perfect.”

“Good.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because I—”

“what the hell!”

You both froze like statues.

Your head turned very slowly toward the doorway, where S.Coups stood, mouth open, one eyebrow twitching, and a water bottle dropping from his hand.

“No… way…” he muttered, pointing between you two. “You...you dating my sister!?"

“S-Seungcheol-hyung—!” DK jumped back like he touched fire. “I was gonna tell you no wait we were gonna tell you, I swear, I didn't mean to hide it, I mean I did, but—”

You stepped in, holding your brother’s arm. “Cheol, calm down—”

“Calm down?” he shrieked. “I’m not mad that you’re dating someone. I’m mad that it’s him!”

DK flinched. “Hey!”

“No offense,” Seungcheol barked, “but if anyone’s gonna date my sister, they better be ready to treat her like the queen of the freakin' universe. Do you know how precious she is? I used to carry her on my back to school, and now you’re holding her hand behind my back?”

“Hyung, I love her,” DK said, voice softer, but firm. “I’ve loved her since the first time we danced together. I waited a year just to ask her out. I never wanted to disrespect you or her. I’ve been planning to tell you.”

Seungcheol crossed his arms. “...And how exactly have you been treating her, huh?”

You nudged DK, giving him a look.

He cleared his throat. “I carry her bag after practice. I give her back massages when she’s sore. I bought her heated socks last winter so her feet wouldn’t get cold during rehearsals. I keep snacks in my locker just in case she forgets to eat. I learned how to braid hair for her.”

There was a pause.

“...Tch,” S.Coups muttered. “Not bad.”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

He sighed dramatically, then turned to you. “Look. If he ever makes you cry, I will dropkick him on live broadcast. But until then...” He looked back at DK with narrowed eyes. “You better keep spoiling her. With everything. Food, gifts, love, all of it. She deserves it. And don’t think for a second I won’t one-up you just to remind her I’m still the better man.”

DK blinked. “You want to spoil your sister more than her boyfriend?”

“You bet your mic stand I do.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed, heart full, cheeks hurting from smiling.

The next morning, the whole group was gathered in the dorm kitchen. Jeonghan smirked, leaning into S.Coups. “So, hyung, did you cry when you found out?”

“I didn’t cry,” Seungcheol grumbled.

“You kind of did,” Minghao added casually. “You said, ‘My baby’s growing up.’”

DK walked in with you, carrying your favorite smoothie and a breakfast sandwich. “Good morning~” he sang. “For you, my queen.”

Seungcheol threw a pillow at his head. “Don’t call her that in front of me!”

You giggled, sitting beside your boyfriend, who winked at you when no one was looking.

Secret? Not anymore.

But it didn’t matter.

You were loved. Truly, sweetly, and loudly.

And you wouldn’t trade it for anything

[Jeju Island – Two Days Later]

The sky was painted in soft watercolor pinks and oranges as SEVENTEEN's van pulled up to the beachside house in Jeju. You stretched your arms out as you stepped out, salty breeze ruffling your hoodie. Everyone was excited for this mini getaway a break from hectic schedules, a chance to breathe.

You didn’t even have time to take two steps before a pair of arms wrapped around your shoulders from behind.

“Finally,” DK whispered into your ear. “I can hold you without checking over my shoulder for S.Coups.”

“I heard that,” came a voice from the front.

You both jumped apart

Seungcheol narrowed his eyes. “You wanna sleep in the sea tonight?”

DK raised both hands. “chill, hyung! Just admiring the weather!”

Mingyu walked by snorting. “The ‘weather’ now has long eyelashes and lip gloss.”

“Shut up,” you muttered, cheeks warm

Inside, the house was warm and cozy two floors, ocean view, and a huge balcony. DK immediately claimed the room closest to yours. “So if you get scared at night,” he whispered, winking, “you can knock three times.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that really your excuse for wanting to be next door?”

“...Maybe.”

Meanwhile, S.Coups was watching from the kitchen, arms crossed, whispering to Woozi.

“She used to have pigtails and beg me for watermelon slices. Now she’s making heart-eyes at that smiley sunshine boy.”

Woozi patted his shoulder. “Let it go, bro. At least she didn’t fall for Vernon.”

That night, after grilled meat and card games, you and DK snuck out to the balcony with mugs of hot cocoa.

He wrapped a blanket around both of you and pulled you closer. “y/nie-ah,” he said gently, “thank you for loving me… even in secret.”

You looked up at him. “I would’ve kept loving you even if it had to stay a secret forever.”

He smiled softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Still, I’m glad it’s not. I’m glad I can do this now” he cupped your face and kissed you, slow and sweet.

“Hey! Balcony curfew is 10 PM!” S.Coups shouted through the sliding door.

You both broke apart with a yelp.

Jun walked past behind him, laughing. “Hyung’s watching you like Netflix.”

Hoshi grinned. “Y/N, blink twice if you want us to distract your brother.”

“Don’t encourage them!” Seungcheol shouted.

#seventeen imagines #seventeen #kpop #scoups #choi seungcheol #dokyeom #lee seokmin #lee dokyeom

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iwritefandomimagines · 2 years ago

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TREEHOUSE — JESS MARIANO

masterlist

pairing: jess mariano x reader

description: you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy jess’ flirty teasing. he’d be lying if he said that you didn’t make him uncharacteristically mushy.

warnings: swearing n fluff!!!, that’s all folks

author’s note: ok so i caved and started rewatching GG already — i had this idea and had to run with it! let me know what u think x

“Wow Y/N, we have got to stop bumping into each other like this!”

You looked up, rolling your eyes at the smirking boy before you as you placed down your book, “Oh yes,” you quipped sarcastically, “Such a shock to see you at your uncle’s diner that you live above and work at. Bonus points for you literally choosing to come over to my table, by the way. Usually you save our tantalising small talk for when I come to the counter for a drink.”

This only emboldened his smirk, and he glanced back to see Luke quirking his brow at his usual game — he always distracted himself from helping out by busying himself with talking to you.

In seconds he’d sat himself down in the empty chair opposite you, leaning on your closed book and staring so intently into your eyes you felt your heartbeat quicken immensely.

“What do you want, Mariano?”

“Ouch, last name?” he pouted, “And here I thought we were friends.”

Your heart was racing at how close to you he seemed to be, but his assertion of your supposed ‘friendship’ dulled this a little.

It infuriated you that he spent so much time flirting, and then every other moment acting like his having any romantic interest in you was a ridiculous suggestion.

“Friends, hm?”

In all the time he’d been loitering around, lending you books, stealing your books, making you coffee and all-round just finding any reason to be near you, Jess had never been certain his attraction to you was reciprocated either.

You’d started out shy, unsure of why the hell he seemed so struck with talking to you when he appeared so disdainful of everyone else in Stars Hollow.

And then you’d warmed to him, you’d opened up, you’d spent evenings as the only two people in Luke’s — just talking for hours on end — only to the next day seem distant again.

He’d tried to reassure himself that you did like him too, and that you were just shy, but something always stopped him from passing the boundaries of friendship beyond flirtatious remarks.

“Am I being relegated to an acquaintance?” he placed a hand over his heart and screwed up his face like he was going to cry, before relaxing it and smirking once more, “Or is your inquisitive tone your way of hinting at your undying love for me?”

“Shut up,” you shoved his arm gently, watching him feign a gasp, “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that right?”

Jess scooted his chair even closer to the table, “I totally thought that was your favourite quality of mine. My mistake!”

You didn’t reply for a moment, challenging him with eye contact and feeling your chest tighten at the way he seemed to match the intensity.

“What’re you doing tonight?”

This was new — he normally just hinted at caring what you were up to, nudged for you to give away whether you were seeing anyone, and danced around flirting just enough that he could deny it if you called him out on it.

You gestured to the book he’d made himself comfortable on, “A riveting night of draining your establishment of coffee ‘til you close, finishing this book and then probably either starting another or binging some shitty tv.”

It was only now that he looked at the book he was leaning on, clocking that it was Ham on Rye and he was the one who’d lent it to you when you’d expressed a desire to read more Bukowski.

“How’re you finding it?”

“Oh, and apparently starting the Jess and Y/N book club,” you teased, “Yeah, I’m enjoying. Thank you again for letting me borrow it.”

He smiled, “Anytime. Want me to leave you alone ‘til you’re done with it?”

You pondered his question for a moment. You didn’t want him to go anywhere, but weren’t quite sure if you should suppress your eagerness for his company.

“No, no,” you bit your lip, “Its alright. Does—,” you almost asked if Luke needed him, in the hopes that he’d say no and you could ask him if he wanted to get out of there. Almost.

“Does… what?”

“Nothing, never mind,” you shook your head, blushing crimson at how closely he watched your every move, “Its quiet in here tonight.”

He shrugged, “I was hoping you’d ask if I wanted to get out of here, because Luke definitely doesn’t need me when it’s this dead.”

You smirked, “Is this you asking me to get out of here?”

“Maybe.”

“Cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yes, Jess, cool. Let’s go somewhere else,” you grinned, pulling your book from beneath his elbow slowly and watching him roll his eyes at your teasing smile as you did so, “I was going to ask that. Didn’t want to seem too eager and boost your ego.”

He feigned insult again, “Ego? What ego?!”

He rose to his feet as you packed your book into your bag, gesturing that he was going to go and tell Luke he was leaving and quickly sauntering over to the counter, where you just about overheard Luke mumble, “Finally asked then?”

That made your stomach swarm with butterflies — this was really happening.

All this time, and things were finally progressing.

Jess briefly disappeared behind the counter, before re-emerging with his jacket and opening the door to the diner for you to lead the way out.

“Where’d ya wanna go?” you asked, your voice quiet as you suddenly felt anxious about being so close to him.

Your feelings for Jess had been growing steadily for so long now, bubbling under the surface, and now you finally had an inkling he actually liked you too you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

He shrugged again, looking down at his feet with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he ambled through Stars Hollow at your side.

“We can just walk,” you hummed, “Or we can go to mine. I’ve, uh, got a treehouse out back that my dad built when I was a kid. Or not if that’s a really fucking lame suggestion.”

He kicked a stone at his feet, “No, that sounds good. Totally lame. But good.”

That pleased you enough to elicit a small hum from your lips, and you found yourself walking a little closer to him as you led the way to your house, “Good. Follow me then.”

When you arrived at your house it was empty as ever — the reason you spent so much time at Luke’s was the rarity of company at your own home given your parents’ busy work lives.

You grabbed a few drinks from the fridge, some snacks from the cupboard, and then led the way out back to the treehouse, which was lit with fairy lights and adorned inside with band posters and shelves of books.

“I’ll give it to you, Y/N, it’s less lame than expected,” Jess nudged your side as you crawled in and slumped down on the mattress in the corner of the room, scoffing at him, “I feel honoured to have the Jess Mariano’s approval.”

“Should I feel privileged to be up here?” he licked his lips, eyes glancing over at the torn “NO BOYS ALLOWED” sign discarded at the edge of the tree house too, “Or does the sad state of the sign suggest I’m one of many exceptions?”

You rolled your eyes, “If you’re jealous that other boys may have been up here, you can just say that, Jess. But you should feel privileged because you’re the first. In fact, I can’t believe I didn’t even think twice about bringing you up here.”

He seemed to like that, his eyes glimmering as they darted between your lips and your eyes repeatedly while he found the words to respond.

“I’d say that means you like me, Y/N,” his voice was barely above a whisper as he spoke, and your close proximity left you shuddering as his breath fanned over your face, “Can’t say I blame you.”

His shit-eating grin made you roll your eyes for the millionth time tonight, “Here I was about to say maybe you were right. Thanks for snapping me out of it, shithead. I don’t like you nearly as much as you like yourself, huh.”

He just stared at you for a moment, eyes still twinkling and his breathing jagged.

“Funny, except I don’t think that’s true,” his head dipped to kiss you now, capturing your lips at first tentatively and then with increasing pressure as you kissed back.

He pulled back for a second, half smirking and half dazed, “Yep, I’d say you definitely like me.”

“Says the one who initiated the kiss,” you challenged, “And has been flirting with me incessantly since, like, the moment we met.”

He raised his eyebrow, “Oh is that so?”

“Are you denying it?”

“Oh no, I’ve definitely been flirting,” he licked his lips once more, desperate to kiss you again but trying to refrain for now, “It’s just funny that you’re only calling me out on it now.”

You gently shoved him and poked out your tongue, “I can kick you out of my treehouse whenever I want, you know.”

He only leaned closer again, “But you’re not gonna, are you?”

Jesus Christ you’d not been prepared for the palpitations in your chest right now. Your heart thrummed against your rib cage, drunk on the feelings that had only gotten stronger tonight.

“It’s your lucky day.”

You kissed him again, and the arm he wasn’t propped up on scooped around your waist to pull you closer and deepen the kiss, “Yeah, I guess it is.”

You stayed like this for god knows how long, joking around in between kisses and getting more and more comfortable in each other’s company, until he sat up abruptly and furrowed his brows.

“What’s wrong? Filled your kiss quota for the night and ready to leave or something?” you smiled, tongue in cheek, and he chuckled.

“Oh no, never. Just figured as much as I’d like to just kiss you, we should probably talk,” it was unlike Jess to look as nervous as he did right now.

In the time that had passed this evening, you’d grown comfortable enough to help him out a little here.

“I really like you, Jess.”

He wasn’t expecting that — you could tell from his wide eyes and open mouth, which he swiftly shut when he realised he was slack-jawed and silent.

He reached out to take your hand in his, fingers twiddling with yours, “You do? That’s, uh, good. ‘Cause I really like you too, Y/N.”

You couldn’t help the little joyous giggle that escaped your lips, and he couldn’t help the warmth that spread through him at the sound of it, “D’you want to stay over tonight? We can sleep in here?”

He kissed your nose, relaxing back into his reclined position again, “If you’re sure… I’d like that.”

“‘Mm, c’mon then,“ you cuddled in a little closer to him, suddenly overcome with tiredness from the evenings events, “…’m sleepy.”

He smiled, a broader smile than he was sure he’d ever smiled before, happy you were finally this close to him. He dipped his head to kiss your forehead, interlocking your hands as you got comfortable on his chest.

“G’night beautiful,” he whispered, and you could hear his heart thrumming in his chest. You couldn’t believe you’d found this side of Jess Mariano. And you weren’t going to get over that joy any time soon.

“Night Jess,” you hummed, already half asleep, “You better be here when I wake up.”

“Oh I will, Y/N, I’m not going anywhere.”

———

ahhHhHhh i hope you enjoyed this !!! please feel free to make some requests if you’d like, or just let me know what you think! i’ve been in such a writer’s block funk lately — but hopefully i’m back now!

here is my masterlist if you’d like to read more of my works!

#jess mariano #jess mariano x reader #jess mariano x y/n #jess mariano x you #jess mariano imagine #jess mariano imagines #gilmore girls #gilmore girls imagine #gilmore girls imagines #gg

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tuesdayaddamss · 2 months ago

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join the murder; happy lowman.

part i. history in the making

summary: the sons make a decision that will change the fate of their club.

warnings: misogyny, language.

author’s note: since sins of the father didn’t get updated today like i said it would, here’s this one :,)

word count: 2898

DAY ONE.

“have you lost your goddamn mind?” to jax’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch at the cutting edge in bobby’s tone, though a lesser man would’ve wilted. it’s impressive, happy can admit, how eerily calm he is in the face of his brothers’ scrutiny. there aren’t many who can stand so tall when put under so much pressure.

not for the first time, their table is divided. split clean in two, it seems, with half of them appalled at the mere thought of what their president is proposing, and the rest, like him, that are, at least, willing to listen. happy can understand their trepidation, the borderline horror. spitting in the face of decades’ of tradition and hard-earned stereotyping isn’t an easy pill to swallow, even for him, but change is as inevitable as it is imminent. and now, with how things have been going for them recently, it’s necessary.

jax believes that if they don’t learn how to ride the tide, the world will move on without them. and happy believes in jackson teller, if in nothing else.

the blonde man at the head of the table smiles, confident and unperturbed. for once, he doesn’t scream to be heard. he doesn’t puff out his chest or gnash his teeth. it’s an assuredness that he has been lacking for a long, long while. “we’ve spent the last forty-five years in this box, brother. it’s startin’ to get a little claustrophobic.”

“so you wanna put a gash in a kutte?” opie chimes in, his face contorted with incredulity, though he’s significantly less hostile than some are being. “what the hell will that do, except give us all a headache?” piney grunts his agreement, scowling as if jax had just suggested assassinating the united states’ president.

“it proves that we can change for the better,” chibs, always raring to defend his jackie-boy, and to advocate for the underdog, steps to the plate. “that we’re more than murderers and criminals. that there’s a point to all of this.”

really, they all have their reasons for being here. for some, like him and the scot, the reaper had saved their lives. opie and jax were born with samcro in their blood. piney, tig, and bobby have been wearing the patch for so long that it’s all they are. and juice, like so many of the prospects that darken their doorstep, had come looking for a family.

that’s what it’s supposed to be about. the brotherhood. living, dying, and killing for the family that they choose. if this girl can, is willing to, do that, happy doesn’t see why they wouldn’t give her a fighting chance.

“oh, c’mon!” frankly, tig’s the last person that should be protesting this. the man broke a hundred unspoken rules when he’d claimed venus van dam, a transgender prostitute, as his ol’ lady. he’s an ornery hypocrite, happy thinks. “almost fifty years, and we have never had a chick patch into any charter, let alone the mother charter. if we do this, it’s gonna cause a goddamn revolt, man.”

as if reading his mind, juice chomps at the bit in a rare display of boldness. “yeah, we never had a venus making us sunday brunch, either.” the withering glare that tig gives him across the table would’ve sent a lesser man to the grave, but the boy holds fast. “no disrespect, i love vee just as much as everyone else, but it ain’t the 70’s no-more. times are changing.”

“this is a charter decision.” jax intervenes, before the two of them can start swinging. “the others can bitch and moan as much as they’d like, but this comes down to us.”

jax would need a unanimous vote to take anyone, especially a woman, on as a prospect, with or without the other charters’ approval. and right now, it doesn’t look like he’s going to get his wish.

“we’re the sons of anarchy! sons!” tig flails his arms so violently that he nearly topples out of his chair, one of his ringed hands clipping happy in the shoulder like an excited child. “back me up, hap!”

all eyes turn to him, and he has to try hard not to bristle. he shrugs noncommittally, acting less bothered than he is, and looks to jax. “can she ride?”

he nods, brows raised, as if surprised that his sergeant at arms is humoring him at all. “can she fight?”

jax grins, like he’d said something funny, and happy figures that it has to do with his suspiciously black eye. “yeah. yeah, she can fight.”

“if she can do that, and if you trust her, i say give it a shot.” tig looks positively mortified, and jax glows with pride. happy merely leans back in his chair and ignores the looks he’s now receiving from both sides of the table. some betrayed, some bewildered.

“just listen,” jax presses his palms to the table, silencing any further protests or arguing before it can even begin. in this moment, he looks so much like the man that he used to be, that it hurts a little bit. the man he was before his baby had been born with his insides outside, before the truth had been told, before his stepfather had betrayed him, and then done it again, and again. before the gavel had corrupted him.

“she has what it takes, i’ve seen it. kitty will be good for this club, for all of us,” he meets each of their eyes in turn, as if willing them to bear the weight of his words. “all i’m asking is that you just give her a chance. no special treatment ‘cause she’s a chick. just another prospect, yeah? she gets a year of probation, proves herself, and then you can decide if i’m fuckin’ nuts. but, i swear to you, she will prove herself.” she has to, for jax’s sake, lest she makes a fool out of him and all of them.

it’s rare to see him so passionate about anything, about anyone, but his vehemence certainly gets their attention. in this room, his word is gospel and law, all in one. when he speaks, they listen. even piney, as set in his ways as he is, falters.

happy pictures the girl waiting outside of the soundproofed doors. she wasn’t anything all that impressive, from what he’d seen — young, scrappy, not anything he could see jax going to war for. and yet, here he is, nearly blue in the face whilst he argues her case. though that in itself is impressive, really, because his favor isn’t easy to earn, and she’d done that and then some.

“where’d you even find this kid?” happy’s raspy voice cuts through the pregnant silence like a bullet, and jax’s smile splits his face from ear to ear, like a little boy on christmas morning.

“she stole my wallet.” he seems abundantly proud of it, though most men would be thoroughly humiliated if they were bested by a girl that’s no more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. you wouldn’t have been able to waterboard that information out of happy. “and then, when i chased her down and tried to get it back, she punched me in the face.” and it just gets better and better. happy’s starting to like this kitty.

anyone that was bold enough to steal from and assault a son had to have balls made of steel. especially from the goddamn president.

“what’s gemma make of it?” jax’s eyes narrow into slits at bobby’s not-so-subtle jab, that anger that they all know and love rearing its head. as much as they all love their matriarch, she could be just as old school as piney is. she’s an opinionated woman, and she likes to make sure that those opinions are known.

“it doesn’t fuckin’ matter what gemma thinks,” he retorts, spitting his mother’s name as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. they must be on the outs again; it’s hard to keep up. “is she sittin’ at this table? no. you don’t ride, you don’t vote.”

the treasurer raises his hands in a show of mock surrender. “just wondering, brother.” they all know how gemma feels about it. or rather, how she will feel about it, since she probably has no clue that it’s happening at all. jax has a tendency to leave her out of the loop.

but he’s right. the women have never had any right, nor reason, to have any say in the club’s decisions. gemma’s only as involved as she is because she’s played ol’ lady to two presidents, and mother to another. the rest of them are kept in the loop merely because they’re loved.

but this would change everything. a woman, sitting at their table, wearing their reaper, standing and fighting with them, having a vote. that is, of course, if she can survive the prospect year. he had witnessed countless men run for the hills after their first two weeks onsite. they’d even had to bury one, once, after he’d intentionally overdosed in the tacoma clubhouse’s bathroom. and it was bound to be even worse for kitty — prospects are at the very bottom of samcro’s food chain as is, treated like dirt in order to ready them, toughen them up, for the life that they’ve signed up for.

she’ll be shoved around and prodded at tenfold the rest of them. and she’ll have to work thrice as hard to prove herself. and that’s just within the club, not even to mention the abuse she’ll be getting from those outside of it. good luck, happy thinks. god knows that she’s going to need it.

jax smacks his palm on the table, drawing them in. “let’s vote it. all in favor of taking kitty on as a prospect?”

“aye!” chibs cheers, his grin mirroring the scars on his cheeks. despite being one of the oldest, and having been with the club for decades, he’s maybe the most progressive. married a black woman, fathered a black baby, and now sticking his neck out for this girl’s sake. he must have been a mama’s boy in his youth — and happy, more than anyone, can respect that.

bobby sighs, staring at the blonde for a long moment, before finally nodding, albeit reluctantly. “aye.” he may be old, cranky, and misogynistic, but he trusts jax enough to set all of that aside.

and opie’s much the same. he’d do anything for the man he’d grown up with, even this. “aye.”

juice beams, eager. “aye.” he had been the victim of their wicked club bylaws, himself. almost thrown out, and nearly forced to turn rat, because his father was black. he’s the last person that would advocate against change.

piney’s the toughest to crack, and happy’s sure that jax had considered this before bringing nic to the table. the old man is huffing and puffing in his chair like he might blow a little pig’s house right down, jaw clenched and fists curled. as one of the first nine, he’d been present when their rulebook was written. he’d been one of the men to vote yes to the ‘no women’ rule. he’s a proud member, and founder, of the she-man-woman-haters club.

but he’s also the one that’s always preaching about what john teller would’ve wanted, about what samcro can, and should, be. and they all know that if jax’s father was here today, he’d be all over this, much like his son is. “aye.” piney grunts. happy sees the thinly veiled relief in jax’s eyes.

it doesn’t take a telepath to know what tig’s thinking, to realize that juice’s words had hit home for the man. if he voted nay, and venus found out, she’d beat him over the head with her gucci purse, and have him sleeping on the couch for a month, minimum. and as many screws as tig trager has loose, he loves his woman, so much so that it’s nauseating, and he’d never blatantly do anything to offend her. “aye.”

“aye.” happy agrees, without hesitation. frankly, he doesn’t give a fuck what she has in her pants, as long as she has what it takes. jax seems to think she does, and he’s never given them a reason to doubt his judgement — well, maybe once or twice, but that’s besides the point.

“aye!” jax slams the gavel down. and just like that, kitty foster has an in. but whilst they’ve voted in her favor, happy knows that it doesn’t mean they’ll act in it. “bring her in.”

chibs jumps to his feet, all joy and humor draining from his face in a split second, just to make her squirm. he shoves the doors open, his voice bellowing through the chapel and the bar, his heavy scottish brogue ricocheting off the walls. “move it, lass! we ain’t got all fuckin’ day!”

kitty appears in the threshold, giving him a wary look as he shoves her unceremoniously in front of the table, though happy can admire how unbothered she seems by the harsh glares she receives from each of them; some genuine, some falsified. if it is a front that she’s putting on, it’s foolproof enough that not even he can see through it.

when he’d first noticed her sitting at the bar, he hadn’t spared her a second glance, not knowing who she was until jax had called church. now, though, he takes the time to look at her. like he’d originally thought, there’s not much about her that stands out; she’s tall, skinny, with a seemingly permanent frown on her face, and a ghostly sort’ve look about her — as if she had never known comfort a day in her life. she’s pretty enough though, he could admit; with pale, untamed curls, and a nice face, though rather guant and severe. he wouldn’t group her in with their croweaters or the caracara girls, but he figures that she gets plenty of attention.

what the fuck she possibly wants to do with a motorcycle club, he can’t even begin to imagine.

tig takes the initiative, starting without prologue, sneering at the girl as if personally offended by her very presence in the chapel. “probationary period lasts one year, minimum, and starts today. after that, if you last that long, we vote whether or not to patch you in.”

“dues are seventy-five dollars on the first of every month,” bobby chimes in. “you don’t pay, you don’t stay.”

she nods along silently, eyes narrowed and jaw ticking, though she seems more contemplative than aggressive.

jax stands then, picking up the kutte, donned with prospect patches, that he’d flung on the table oh-so dramatically when he’d called church. it’s small, suited to a woman, which meant that he’d been planning this for at least a few days if he’d gone and found colors in her size. awfully bold of him, happy thinks, though he chooses not to comment on it. he won’t claim to understand just how the younger man’s mind works.

he shoves the leather into kitty’s hands, and none of the brothers are oblivious to the wordless something that passes between them. “don’t fuck this up.” is all he says, but his tone is heavy.

the look she gives him is as sharp as a knife, somewhere in between amused and incredulous. whatever had happened with them, beyond the petty theft and battery, had been no small thing. they can all see it.

“don’t worry, prez,” she drawls, two parts mocking and one part wicked. it’s the first time happy, or anyone save for jax, has heard her speak. her accent is as thick as molasses, dripping from her tongue like honey. happy assumes that the southern twang had done her quite a few favors in her life. “i’ll make you proud.”

jax scoffs, but his lip twitches into an almost-smile. “put it on.” he orders, and they all hold their breath.

she slings the brand new leather over her back, their reaper coming to rest gently on her toned shoulders. it suits her, even happy has to admit. if the gleam in jax’s eye is anything to go off of, he agrees.

happy braves a glance at his brothers, all of them wearing varying expressions; some, hopeful, and others, bitter. he meets juice’s eye, and the puerto rican grins so hard that he figures it has to hurt his cheeks.

she’s looking at them too, he notices, sizing each of them up in turn. her eyes meet his for half of a second, searching within him for something — animosity, like tig, or approval, like chibs — but happy remains stoic, his facade impenetrable after all of the years he’s spent perfecting it. he thinks that she seems almost amused, as if humored by so many grown men being so very threatened by a chick.

and that’s exactly what they are; piney, opie, bobby, tig. they feel threatened by this woman, and what she will mean for samcro. they’re terrified of what changes her presence here will catalyze.

jax slaps her on the shoulder, looking immensely proud of himself. “welcome to samcro,”

godspeed, happy bids silently, hoping that she’s more than meets the eye — lest his brothers chew her up and spit her out.

but something tells him that they’d only break their teeth if they tried.

#sons of anarchy #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman #sons of anarchy fic #happy lowman fic #happy lowman x oc #sons of anarchy x reader #jax teller #chibs telford #juice ortiz #bobby munson #opie winston #tig trager #piney winston #join the murder

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synchodai · 3 months ago

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Give Karlach Character Flaws

My problem with how most fics write Karlach, especially when she isn't a major player, is that it seems as if she's never allowed to be selfish. She's always there to be big Mama K, ready to support and tank damage for everyone else, but that doesn't mean she doesn't have any self-interest at all. While I enjoy reading about her forcing Tav to confront their feelings and whatnot, I also want her dragging Tav along to some romp to distract them from dealing with the more difficult emotions because honestly, that's what Karlach does herself.

The very fact that she refuses to go back to Avernus, even for a short while, shows she would rather not face her fears than prevent her friends' grief. In this instance, her terror at confronting her situation trumps the care and concern she has for her friends. You can argue that she has the same attitude when you ask her about the Soul Coins. "There's no saving them and planning long-term, so we might as well use them for instant gratification and a momentary boost." She would rather not think about things than fix them. She's the "this is fine" dog.

If we go back to her time as Gortash's bodyguard, we can see this as well. Gortash built his fortune and reputation through arms dealing (and slaving), so it's hard to believe Karlach thought she was protecting an innocent guy who would never hurt anyone. We know she's insightful and not at all dumb. She most likely knew his business was shady, but choose to keep taking his coin because she was young, orphaned, and needed the money. The players never think about her complicity in any of his crimes because that would mar our image of her as a self-sacrificing precious cinnamon roll. There had to have been smoke everywhere and she went "this is fine" until she got consumed by the flames and couldn't escape.

I still think Karlach is ultimately a good person. My point here is that for a barbarian who's supposed to charge headlong into their problems, she is extremely avoidant and that part of her personality seems to be largely glossed over. It's defeatist and cowardly to accept death when there are clearly ways she could keep living. I would have liked Karlach's story to have emphasized that, making it clearer to the player that sometimes we do have to make that choice to go back into the Hell that traumatized us if we want to fully live our lives, because avoiding it and letting yourself explode means the devil wins.

I don't blame her for not wanting to. It's a very scary thing to do, and my primary coping mechanisms are all avoidant as well. But I hate how characters have dialogue in-game about how Karlach's so brave to face her death when the real radical act of courage would have been fighting to live.

#karlach cliffgate #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 meta #karlach #long post

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doodler16 · 2 months ago

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I can't take Charlie as a protagonist seriously, especially after the Hell's Greatest Dad song. I was willing to forgive her constant naïveté and overall childish behavior till that episode.

I'm sorry, but do you really want me to take a woman in her early-mid twenties seriously when she's being fought over like she's a preteen child of the divorced parents? Anyone at this age would have died of embarrassment and immediately called this crap out.

Theoretically, it could've worked if it was shown that she was playing along with Alastor in order to manipulate her father, but she seemed genuine in that song?? Like, girl, did you REALLY buy Alastor's crap? He only lived here for a couple of months, and you already act like he's a wise father figure to you?? Like why?? They didn't even interact properly in series prior besides maybe exchanging a couple of lines, idk. (Plz, don't bring up the pilot cause I didn't watch it, lol, so I have zero clue what their relationship was supposed to entail there. I only judge by what I've seen in the series.)

Daddy issues or not, but Charlie was severely infantilized by this song, and she's supposed to help redeem the sinners, which requires a lot of wisdom, maturity and compassion in order to guide them. And she has none of that.

What a waste.

Even more reasons to appreciate my goat, Mimzy. Thank god for her stepping in and interrupting the song. This is fandom once again doesn’t deserve Mimzy 😂.

That aside, there are families or relatives who do unironically fight over their adult child for whatever reason. I am open to Lucifer and Alastor fighting over Charlie, like you said Anon it could theoretically work.

I was going to briefly bring up Charlie and Alastor’s dynamic in the pilot how Alastor and Lucifer fighting could’ve worked but I won’t since you didn’t watch the pilot and don’t want me to bring it up 😅.

Hell’s Greatest Dad doesn’t work because like you mentioned Anon, Alastor barely interacts with Charlie and only interacts with her when it’s convenient for himself and the episode/plot. So, it is easy to tell that Alastor is not only lying (throughout majority of the song) but repeatedly trying to make himself look good any chance he gets.

I don’t know why some fans and stans thought Alastor was serious about him seeing Charlie as her daughter when he was just lying. I know Vivziepop loves pushing that since she had beef with Chalastor shippers ages ago. It is annoying seeing some fans actually use Alastor’s lie as a “gotcha” moment and a way to put down Chalastor shippers.

If Alastor did see Charlie as a daughter (in more twisted way), he would’ve consoled her in episode 7 but didn’t. Charlie would proceed to ramble while Alastor would roll his eyes.

I know Hell’s Greatest dad song is an extremely popular song as it’s the top of Amazon’s most viewed videos but it could’ve been cut. We didn’t an entire 2-3 minute song dedicated to the two men having a pissing contest while Charlie third wheels especially when the episode is supposed to be about Charlie and Lucifer. It easily could’ve slimmed down via dialogue. Or cut it out completely and save it for another episode.

#vivziepop critical #vivziepop criticism #anonymous #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism

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ellephlox · 1 year ago

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Solidarity

Summary: Frank enlists your help on a dangerous mission. Matt’s not happy about it.

Pairings: Matt x f!reader, platonic Frank Castle & f!reader, platonic Matt & Frank

Warning: Strong profanity (looking at you, Frank). Canon-typical violence. There’s also dog abuse in this, so please proceed with caution!

“You will not believe how terrible my day was.” You were already complaining aloud as you started up the stairs to Matt’s apartment, perfectly aware that he’d be able to hear you. “My boss gave me triple the amount of work that’s humanly possible to complete within a month and somehow he expects me to do it within a week. And then he had the audacity to tell me that I shouldn’t wear my hair in a ponytail because it’s ‘too informal’ for the face of the company. I mean, what the hell does that even mean?”

One of Matt’s neighbors opened their apartment door as you marched up the steps, and you quickly lifted your phone to your ear as though you were talking to someone, lest they think you were just talking to yourself. “And then my coworker took my data — you know, all that stuff I had been inputting onto that Google Doc the other day? And he presented it as his own, no credit to me. I can’t even report him because he’s supposed to retire in a week so it’s pointless anyway.”

You continued to gripe as you unlocked the door, chucking your keys down and tossing your shoes off so violently that they hit the wall. “Anyway, I’m in a bad mood now, so I have two propositions — well, demands, I guess — for you. One: We watch Jeopardy tonight. In pajamas. I will object if you’re still wearing a tie.” You unzipped your coat and tossed it haphazardly onto the coat rack. “Two: My friend asked if we’ve ever showered together before — you know, typical girl talk questions — and I told her we hadn’t, so I was thinking—” You stopped dead as you entered the living room, your stomach plummeting. Leaning on the wall by the window, arms crossed, was Matt, wearing his devil suit, complete with the helmet on and his billy clubs dangling in his hands. And across from him, standing with an actual gun in his hand, was Frank Castle. Mortification sent heat into your face, and for a moment you just stood there, at a loss for words.

“We have company,” Matt said dryly, uncrossing his arms and standing up straight.

“I can see that,” you said finally. “You didn’t think to... I don’t know, shoot a text warning me?” Your cheeks were searing; had you seriously just proposed showering with Matt in front of the Punisher, of all people?

“I was a bit preoccupied all day with making sure Trigger Happy over here didn’t shoot anyone,” Matt said, his jaw tense.

Frank snorted. “Red, you’d be bleeding out in an alley if I hadn’t saved your ass. Get off your high horse.”

“Yeah. Okay. But you couldn’t have said something, anything at all, when I walked in? Like, ‘Hey, honey, there’s a wanted fugitive standing in our living room, just so you know.’ Sorry, Mr. Castle,” you added in an undertone to him. “Um — I’m not trying to make you feel unwelcome or anything, I just feel a bit awkward about earlier, so—”

“Doesn’t matter,” Frank said shortly, his gaze still trained on Matt. “We gonna stand here with your girl watching us and argue all afternoon? Or are we going to get this done?”

“Get what done?” you asked.

It was Frank who answered, and from the way Matt was standing with his back straight as a ruler now, you had the sense he wasn’t pleased, for whatever reason. “There’s a shipment of heroin that’s supposed to arrive tonight. The dealers have been selling to kids on the street to make a quick buck.”

“It’s due to come in at midnight,” Matt said. “But the source I talked to last night doesn’t know which dock.”

You made of sound of sympathy. “I take it you’ll be having to sweep a lot of territory tonight, then?”

“That’s a damn understatement,” Frank said. “We’re not just talking about the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, ma’am. We’re talking all the way down to Chelsea, and the piers in Brooklyn Heights.”

“But that’s impossible to scope out,” you said slowly. “Even if Matt’s standing in the center of all the docks in Hell’s Kitchen, he couldn’t possibly hear all the way down to Chelsea, let alone Brooklyn.”

“Which is why we’re in for a rough night,” Matt said. “I called Jessica, Luke, and Danny. They’re all out of town.” He jutted his chin at Frank. “And that’s why we’re here together.”

“I ain’t happy about it either,” Frank added. “He’s already talking my ass off about moral obligation and shit. Feels like I’m in church.”

"Because you tried to stab the guy in the throat after he gave us information we needed.”

“If you could see, Red, then you’d know from the look in that guy’s eyes that he planned on murdering us the second that we turned our backs on him—”

“Which is why I tied him up and left him for Mahoney.”

“I have a better idea,” you said, cutting in before anything could escalate. “I can help.”

Matt’s response was immediate and scathing. “No.”

"Oh, come on — I get it if you want to do your whole ‘Fly home, Buddy, I work alone’ thing, but you’re not working alone, you’re working with the Punish— I mean, Mr. Castle. I’ll be supremely insulted forever if you don’t let me help.”

“If you think that I’ll let those dealers anywhere near you—” Matt began, but you interrupted again.

“Look, I’ve always waited here patiently and uselessly while you do your deviling every night, but can’t you give me a chance? Maybe we’ll be a dream team. Terrific trio. Second Edition Avengers. The Scooby gang minus a talking dog.”

“She could help, Red,” Frank said, sending an unreadable look in your direction. “I say we do it. She can camp out at Brooklyn. I mean, the guy said that they could dock there, but they never have before. Odds are they’ll be in Chelsea or Hell’s Kitchen.”

“So, what? We throw her to the wolves in Brooklyn where we can’t get to her easily if things go south?” Matt looked as though he were about two seconds from socking Frank in the jaw. Or worse, two seconds from handcuffing you to the apartment so that you wouldn’t leave.

“No,” you said firmly. “Things won’t go south. Matt, I’m not going to... I don’t know, engage in a fight with them. I’m not a vigilante. I’ll just hide and keep an eye on the docks, then if they show up, I’ll call you.”

“I’ll stay in Chelsea,” Frank said. “I know you get all weird about the Kitchen, Red, so it’s all yours.”

Matt was standing stock still, grinding his teeth. Finally he ground out, “It’s too dangerous.”

“So is driving a car. So is crossing the street. And yet I’ve done both many, many times,” you said. “I’ll be completely fine. Why would dealers have any reason to go after a random passerby, even if they did see me? Which they won’t,” you added hurriedly. “Because I’ll stay safely out of sight.”

“Perfect.” Frank checked his watch. “I ain’t staying here while we twiddle our thumbs and wait for midnight to roll around. Give Y/N my burner number, Red.”

“I’d never have thought you’d do this, Frank,” Matt said, his voice low. “I thought you at least were on my side when it came to keeping people safe who—”

“Who are what?” you said sharply. “I might not have... superpowers, or, I don’t know, a weird bloodthirstiness — sorry again, Mr. Castle — but I can still help.”

“Call me Frank.” Frank leveled his gaze at you. “And cut the apologizing shit.”

“Uh. Okay.” You had to bite your tongue to keep from apologizing again.

And, somehow, you actually ended up on the mission. You took the C train down to Brooklyn Heights after enduring a very long and very dry lecture from Matt on how you were to stay out of sight no matter what and to call him should any boat arrive with men wearing ski masks.

And, in all honesty, you weren’t nervous. The likelihood of the dealers showing up at your assigned docks was slim. And even if they did, you’d just have to make a quick phone call to both of them, and then camp out. Easy-peasy.

You settled in on a wooden bench overlooking the piers, wishing you had worn more than your jacket. The temperature had dropped more than expected when the sun had set, and now you shivered slightly, the cold metal of a knife against your thigh. Just in case.

How exactly you were actually out here, on a real mission, with Matt willingly letting you out of his protection, you weren’t sure. It was exhilarating, though. The city was dark, yet not really; it was aglow with the street lamps and headlights and apartment windows whose blinds hadn’t been closed yet. You scrunched up your legs to conserve body heat and regretted not bringing a blanket, too. And a pillow. That would’ve made the bench slightly less rock hard against your bottom.

Seriously, how did Matt do this kind of thing every night? Fifteen minutes in and you were already missing the warmth of home.

You glanced at the skyline. Somewhere, on the other side of those skyscrapers, Matt was waiting as well. Probably he wasn’t curled up on a bench like you were, though. It was more likely that he’d be stalking the rooftops, or pacing in the shadows.

And then movement caught your eye, at just after 12:30 in the morning. You scrambled to your feet, squinting in the dark. It was a boat, fast approaching the pier just next to you.

No way. Yeah, you were on lookout, but somehow you’d convinced yourself that the dealers wouldn’t actually show up on your end. You waited to call Frank and Matt, though, because in case it was a different boat, you didn’t want to raise a false alarm. You moved away from your bench and began walking leisurely down the pier, as though you were going for a nighttime stroll. All you needed to do was get a good glimpse of them, then you’d head up the street where you could watch from a safer spot.

“In, out! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” someone said, a bit loudly, from the deck of the ship. You swiveled your head to see him, and sure enough, he had a ski mask. Swiftly you pulled out your phone and fire off a quick text to both Matt and Frank. You were about to leave the pier altogether when a bark made you stop short.

....A dog?

“Shut the bitch up!” one of the men snarled. “We get caught, then all the goods get seized.”

“She’s been fucking howling the whole way, what am I supposed to do?”

“Give her a piece of food.”

“What food? You ate the rest of it, man.”

“Can’t believe we’re bringing this dog anyway. Boss already has six bitches. Why does he need another?”

“She’s some special breed, or some shit, I don’t know. Sells for a thousand bucks a pop. Grab that box. Like I said — in, out. We’re already late.”

The dog kept barking, though, and you winced as the man kicked the poor thing in the ribs. Piece of shit. You wanted to go up there and throttle him yourself. If Matt or Frank would just get here already, then you’d be able to relax, but it would still be at least twenty minutes...

And what if the dealers got away in that time frame?

The dog started barking again, and suddenly, without any word of warning, one of the men picked the dog up like a sack of potatoes and threw her overboard. “To hell with the extra cash. That’s how you deal with security problems,” you heard him say as he wiped his hands on his pants. “Get moving, go, go, go! Unload this shit so we can get out of here!”

Below, the dog’s frantic head slipped below the surface.

Oh, hell no.

Your feet were moving even before you could make an executive decision in your mind. The cold of the evening was forgotten, as were Matt’s strict words to not be seen, no matter what happens, and you dove into the water, where the dog had fell beneath the black waves beside the pier.

Fortunately, it was summer, and as shockingly cold as the water was, it wasn’t anywhere near deathly cold. You couldn’t see anything, and desperately tried to listen for the dog, but you didn’t have Matt’s ears, and for a moment panic swelled inside you that this dog would drown, and you wouldn’t be able to do a thing.

And then you saw movement, out of the corner of your eye. The dog was struggling to stay afloat, her snout barely making it out of the water. You grabbed her around the middle and kicked with all your might, coughing on water and unable to see hardly anything except for the blurry outline of the pier. There had to be a ladder somewhere along there, and you groped blindly along the edge, seeking out a grip to pull yourself and the dog up.

For a moment, you completely forgot about the dealers behind you. All you could think about was getting the dog safely onto land, and with a massive effort you lifted her up. Her paws scrambled against the edge of the pier, but with a good shove to her rump, she was able to get over the edge and dash away into the shadows.

Good luck out there, doggie. You started to climb the ladder yourself, but froze when you heard the telltale click of a gun being cocked in front of you. Slowly you looked up, your blood running cold at the sight of a gun pointed straight at your forehead. The man holding it had his hair tied back in a bun, and there was a horrible expression on his face that told you he wouldn’t have any qualms about pulling the trigger.

“Should I shoot, boss?” he asked, his eyes not moving from your face. “Stupid girl’s seen us. She’ll probably run her mouth and tell the cops.”

Your brain felt as though it were short-circuiting. “I swear, I won’t tell a soul. You have my word. Really, I’ll just leave here, and I promise—”

“Do it!” one of the men shouted from the boat. “Get it done so you can get your ass back up here to help. You know how many bodies there are in the Upper Bay? She’ll just be another.”

Your heart was punching the inside of your rib cage. You considered falling backwards to try to swim away, but what good would it do? There was no other way to get back onto land nearby except for this ladder, and you didn’t trust yourself to swim around the boat and across to the next pier without simply getting shot en route. Lunging up the rest of the ladder to fight him was an even worse option. Even if you could fight like Matt (which you could safely say was not the case), you were at a disadvantage; he had the high ground.

But you didn’t have a choice. The man lunged down and grabbed you by the collar of your jacket, hoisting you up onto the pier. You shivered violently, unsure of whether it was from fear or cold. The man looked you over. “Could hold her for ransom, Tom. That’d bring in some extra cash.”

“No.” The man, who must’ve been Tom, shook his head. “That’s just a surefire way to get attention from the cops. Let’s take her in. We’ll kill her once we’re back on open water and dump her body in the Atlantic. Much cleaner that way.”

The man holding you grunted in agreement and shoved you forward up the ramp to the boat. You obeyed only because of the gun pressed against your temple, feeling like you might vomit any second.

Where are Matt and Frank? The night was as still as a reflecting pool. It was as though the city itself had gone to sleep, abandoning you to these men, and you had to choke down the rising lump in your throat that was making you feel like you might cry any second or pass out. But tears wouldn’t come, as you were led into a cabin, your mouth promptly duct-taped closed. The sensation made you panic even more — a little air could get through to your nose, but not much, and the sudden feeling of being near to asphyxiation made you even more light-headed.

The men, however, seemed to forget about you as soon as they tied you to the chair. That they hadn’t killed you immediately was the most relieving of mercies, and you struggled fruitlessly to escape your bonds, feeling supremely useless. Surely Matt would arrive any second; he would hear exactly where you were, you reasoned, and he’d make his way to you as soon as he could. Any minute you’d hear the sound of a baton ricocheting off some unfortunate skulls or the cracking as bones shattered under his fists.

But instead, it was bullets you heard first. Frank. You gritted your teeth, hearing the shouts of men that were surely being killed without a second thought. Hopping with your feet, you were able to wiggle your chair forward slightly until you could see outside the cabin door. Frank’s silhouette was a menacing shape against the moonlight.

Where is Matt?

One of the largest men — Tom, you recalled — suddenly came barreling into the room, a gun in his hand. He untied you violently, yanking the rope so roughly against your wrists that you gasped under the tape, and then dragged you forward, the gun against your head. Unceremoniously you were toppled from the chair, your knees slamming down onto hard wood.

“Drop your gun!” Tom jabbed his gun against your forehead so hard that you saw stars. “Drop it now and put your hands behind your head, or I’ll blow her brains out!”

Through your fuzzy vision you saw Frank freeze. His gaze was cold; calculating, and for the first time you wondered what your value was in Frank’s mind, compared to the triumph of offing some criminals. Which was worth more to him? For a moment, you feared he would prioritize killing the smugglers. His fist clenched even tighter around the gun, and he drew in level breaths, without lowering his gaze for even a second.

“I swear to God I’m pulling this trigger in ten seconds if you don’t drop it,” Tom said, and he dragged the tip of the gun so that it was placed precisely against your temple. Water was still dripping from your clothing and goosebumps were raised so violently on your skin that you felt like you had chicken pox, but that was nothing compared to the electric adrenaline shooting down your spine, as though your nervous system was screaming at you to do something, anything, but it was to no avail; all you could do was stay on your knees, as still as possible, and keep your head lowered.

And then, as though he’d made a snap decision, Frank set the gun down.

“Kick it over here,” Tom ordered.

Frank obeyed, slowly raising his hands to his head. “The gun’s down,” he said. “Now let her go.”

Tom’s grip on you tightened. “You’re a fool,” he said, and suddenly you knew what was about to happen, from the steadying of his hands and the firmer press of the gun against your temple. You wrenched yourself away from him, just as the bullet fired off, and the heat of it barely grazed your shoulder as you dove away.

The victory was short-lived, though. Tom aimed again, and this time you were on the ground, with nowhere to go. You screwed your eyes shut, sending a silent apology to Matt, and...

The bullet never came.

Gingerly you opened your eyes to see the devil punching Tom with all his wrath and fury. Frank had already picked up his gun again and was running towards the back of the boat, where you knew there were still a few more crew members. Quickly you crawled backwards to get out of the path of Matt and Tom, the latter of whom was being thrown against the cabin wall.

That had been close. Way, way too close. You fumbled for the duct tape and ripped it off your mouth, lightheaded from breathing irregularly. Stars formed in front of your vision and you had to slow yourself down, drawing in air and then releasing it slowly.

Matt was still slamming his fist into the face of Tom, and blood was spurting everywhere. You squinted at them, your heart dropping — far too much blood was spraying out, and Matt was showing no signs of slowing down —

“It’s okay. You’ve got him,” you whispered, the words coming out of your mouth in a rasp. “Matt.”

Matt dropped Tom, who slid to the ground, unconscious. Using the edge of the boat to support yourself, you stood up slowly, and limped over to Matt; your knees were still aching from earlier. Gently you reached towards his shoulders. “I can call 911.”

“He deserves to die.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” you said. Matt was in a dangerous anger, you could tell; one wrong move and he’d do something he’d regret for the rest of his life. Choosing the right words now was imperative. “A judge will decide that.”

“He tried to kill you,” Matt snapped, whirling around and knocking your arm off his shoulder. “If he had — if he’d succeeded—”

“But he didn’t.”

“Does that matter?”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Frank got there first. “Cool down, Red,” he said, as nonchalantly as though you were all at dinner together. “Your girl’s safe. We got the drugs before they could get shipped.”

“Don’t talk to me like I need to be calmed down,” Matt said, his voice hardly more than a snarl.

Frank stared at Matt for a few moments. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “To answer your question. It does matter that he tried killing her.” Then, without warning, he shot Tom, square in the forehead. You yelped, looking away from the bloody hole where his head was now caved in. His features were unrecognizable, and hollow in death, and yet you couldn’t help looking back at him, his eyes meeting yours as though he still were alive.

“Get her out of here. Warm her up,” Frank said, nodding at you. “I’ve got other business to do this evening.”

“Other business?” you asked, but Matt was reaching for you, skating his hands over your body.

“Sorry,” you said lamely, shaking slightly from the adrenaline. “I sort of disobeyed the only rule.”

“You could have died.”

“But there was a dog, and I had to save it — they tossed the poor thing overboard. I couldn’t just sit by.”

And, to your surprise, Matt’s lips cracked into a small smile. Though you couldn’t see his eyes under the mask, you could feel his warmth. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

Frank was gone already. Together, you and Matt exited the boat, and it took all of your willpower to not look back at the corpse.

“So,” you said, taking Matt’s hand as you walked down the dark street together. The feeling of the duct tape was lingering on your mouth, and the way that you had been tied up — the gun against your head — and it was making your heart race. Even though Matt would see right through you (hear right through you?), you adopted a casual tone. “How was my audition? Can I officially be the Assistant Daredevil?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not deflecting. I’m just wondering if I passed some sort of test, and if you’ll let me join you now—”

“Sweetheart.” Matt stopped short and pulled you into the shadows between buildings. “You’re not fooling me.”

“I’m not trying to fool you.” Your mouth was dry.

“That was intense. You don’t have to pretend it wasn’t. You could’ve died.” Matt’s voice shook a bit, and you were reminded that as terrifying as it was for you, it had probably been even worse for Matt. Because if you had died, and it was technically on his watch... yeah. That wouldn’t have gone over well.

You cupped his face, and he leaned into it slightly. “Okay. I’m a bit freaked out. But I’m okay.”

“Who’s reassuring who, now?” he said after a moment, and that warm, small smile returned. He pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you tightly enough that you had to draw in a short breath.

“Maybe...” Your voice came out in a whisper. “Maybe we both need it tonight.”

A/N: Sorry for the slightly rushed ending but this was beginning to expand a bit too much and I didn’t want it to feel like it should have multiple chapters. Honestly, I wasn’t happy with this piece so it’s been sitting in my drafts for about a year now, but it’s been awhile since I posted a one shot, so... here we are.

Hope you all had a great day, thanks so much for reading!

-Elle

#daredevil #matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #marvel #daredevil x reader #reader insert #reader #mcu #x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #frank castle #frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher x reader

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argisthebulwark · 11 months ago

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My Best Friend, My One & Only

summary: how they propose <3 gn reader, no gendered pronouns or y/n used. feat: Farkas, Teldryn, Miraak, Brynjolf, Balimund, Mercer, Vilkas warnings: non explicit mentions of battle/injury a/n: yes I know this isn't how proposals work in the elder scrolls, I know about the amulets, rings are just more romantic to me masterlist

Farkas does it in the middle of a difficult battle. When you're back to back, weapons bloodied and muscles beyond exhausted and the enemies are circling closer. "If we make it out of this," Farkas pants, back flexing as he readies his sword once more. "Will you marry me?" "What?" "C'mon, if we're both alive tomorrow we'll get married. Deal?" "Alright, deal." You gulp, rallying whatever shred of strength you have left. An arrow lodges itself near your feet and you're lost again, hacking and slashing through the seemingly endless waves of bandits. It isn't difficult to keep track of Farkas on the battlefield - his stature and the roar of his victorious laugh calm your worries about losing him. Once only the two of you remain standing, you turn to him. Through the mud and viscera Farkas is grinning as he approaches you, chest heaving with each deep breath. "We both lived." He brags, one messy hand scrounging in his pockets. Your heart flips when he produces a stunning ring in his outstretched palm and offers it to you. "I didn't think you were serious." You breathe, plucking it from his hand despite the screaming of your muscles. Holding it up you marvel at the silvery moonlight glimmering on its beautiful stones. "I wouldn't joke about this." The ring fits so easily onto your finger. Farkas presses shameless kisses on your hand and up your arm, clearly so excited to see his ring on your finger. You can hardly believe that this is real, this isn't a dream.

Teldryn has never really brought up marriage, so the hypothetical catches you off guard - would you ever want to get married? Coming from a relatively large family it had once been the expectation but after the years of dealing with dragons and wars it's become less of a priority. "Yeah, I suppose I would." "You suppose?" "Well, you never bring it up so I haven't given it too much thought." "I ever said to me, specifically." There's a glimmer of humor in his eyes but you can't bring yourself to play into it. Something about this conversation feels heavy, like it's more important than some silly banter. "I wouldn't consider it with anyone else." Teldryn sighs and flips a coin your way. You scramble to catch it, glaring over at him when he begins to wander away. Prepared to ask why in the hells he would throw a septim your way you stare down at your hand. Sitting there in the palm of your tattered glove is the most beautiful ring you've ever seen. Small pale stones glitter around one dark gem placed in the center, all held together with sturdy metal. That bastard has the audacity to propose to you so casually? To toss this gorgeous ring at you, risk it falling into the dirt, and stroll off as if he hadn't just offered you something so beautiful? "What d'ya think?" Teldryn smirks, glancing over his shoulder. You want to berate him for his nonchalant tone but you've lost all words, tears springing into your eyes at the realization. Teldryn's offering you a future together, a promise that he won't leave. Placing that ring on your finger, you know that it's all you want.

Miraak doesn't. He began referring to you as his spouse ages ago. You've been his partner for so long it's an easy rhythm to fall into. Everyone else simply accepts that you're married and you're comfortable with it - saves you the trouble of planning a wedding. You know that Miraak isn't going anywhere and neither are you. After lifetimes together, you feel that traditional wedding ceremonies can't capture the depth and love that have been crafted between you. Miraak is your future and your past, and when he whispers that you are his entire world you know that it is true. "So," some lordling pipes up, drawing everyone's attention. Thanes and Jarls mill about the room and Miraak rolls his eyes, still unsure why you insist on maintaining relationships with them. "Yes?" You respond, rubbing a soothing hand over Miraak's arm. You take a sip of your drink and ready yourself for whatever political nonsense they have to offer now. "We've heard so many stories about you two - how did Miraak propose to you?" Wine practically shoots out of your nose. You snort, grabbing onto Miraak's coat and fight the laughter bubbling up at his expression. Your beloved husband is looking especially pale when he wipes absently at your face. "Well," he stalls and oh, it is delightfully entertaining. Miraak, always so eloquent, at a loss for words? It's a rare sight, even you have hardly seen it. "I may have skipped a few steps." "There's still time." You snicker playfully, fixing the lapel of his coat. He sends you a cutting glare, though it hasn't scared you for ages.

Brynjolf wants to keep it lowkey. He never thought he'd make it this far, not bothering for decades to imagine anything for himself outside of the Guild. When you're seated atop a manor, packs full and enjoying your last night before the long carriage ride home, he slides the ring toward you. "Did you steal this?" You question, totally ignorant of the furious blush in his face. Examining the ring in the moonlight is difficult but you're impressed, a simple and stunning piece. One deep green gem is framed with gentle swirls of metal, so unlike the terribly gaudy pieces you're used to pocketing. "Usually these lords have awful taste but this is beautiful, Bryn." "Glad you like it." He sounds a bit off, almost nervous. You scour the streets below but can't make out any guards. "It looks expensive, I bet Tonilia can fetch a good price." "No." "No?" Your brows tighten, that strained tone of his voice sets your nerves on edge. "It's for you." The situation punches you in the gut. Brynjolf, usually so calm and collected, looks nearly ready to launch himself off the roof. The gorgeous ring sitting in your hand, the ring that's for you. "Are you asking me to marry you?" Your fingers quiver when Brynjolf finally meets your gaze. "That depends on how you're plannin' to answer." His nervous laugh is so endearing. How could he possibly think you would refuse him? "Well, we live and work together, we've discussed spending our lives together, and all the recruits think we're already married." You squeeze his chilly fingers, surprised at how scared he is. "Of course I want to marry you, Bryn." "Oh, thank god - please don't fence that, love. Cost me a fortune."

Balimund works with Madesi for ages to forge a ring just for you. He's known for years that he intends to spend his life with you, there's no need to rush this step. The pair craft a ring to Balimund's exact specifications, priding himself on knowing exactly what you like. He chooses one of the nights you treasure the most - a quiet night at home together. No couriers pounding down the door or Jarls demanding your presence, just a night at home. You notice Balimund planting extra kisses to your shoulder while you cook dinner together and gazing at you across the table until you're certain there's something stuck in your teeth. Curled up on the couch together, your heart feels so full it hurts. Balimund's heavy arm rests around your shoulders, calloused fingers trailing over your skin as gentle kisses press to the crown of your head. You notice the uptick in his heartbeat where you're pressed to his chest and snuggle closer. "You alright, dearest?" You yawn, glancing up at him. Balimund finds himself struck by the sight of you; eyes soft and tired after a lazy day together, that gentle smile on your face he loves so dearly. He swears he falls in love with you all over again in this one moment. "I want this for the rest of my life." He mumbles, grasping the little box in his pocket. He's been fussing with it all night, gathering all his courage over the course of the evening but suddenly it's all gone. When he feels your hand cup his face Balimund gulps and draws the box out. "Me too, love." "Yeah?" He thumbs open the box, nervously presenting you when the fruit of his labor. Perfectly polished metal bears three sparkling gems. They aren't large or especially impressive but he recalls the way your eyes lit up when you'd seen each of them in his chest of supplies. "Balimund, please tell me you're proposing." "'Course I am, dearest." "Oh thank the gods."

Mercer doesn't. He's already gotten far too close, he can't let you creep any further into his heart. Occasionally when you're tucked into bed at his side, legs tangled together and all worries banished, you smile up at him and he sees an entire future. And gods, he hates it. Boring days spent together in the Cistern and weeks on the road to some high profile job. His family's ring sparkling on your finger and your lips on his skin. Watching grey creep into your hair and retiring in some fancy manor not too far from Riften, somewhere you can watch the leaves turn that shade of orange that lifts your spirits. Marriage, family, a real life together... he hates the thought of it. He's in too deep and there's no going back. His stomach always turns when he catches glimpses of that potential life he could have with you because for one desperate moment he wants it. He wants to forget about all the bullshit he's spent his life building up, the Guild, the Eyes, everything to live that life with you. But he can't. Mercer wishes he didn't make your smile falter in these moments when he wants you so badly. He clutches you a little closer, pressing a kiss to your forehead in a silent apology for the heartbreak he'll surely dump on you someday. He knows he'll only break your heart, the longer he puts it off the worse it gets, but he can't bring himself to give you up. "Love you." Guilt spikes at his heart each time you yawn those damning words into his chest. Your skin is so lovely and warm when an arm wraps around his waist. I love you. He chokes on those words he can't say, choosing instead to kiss your head once more instead of damning himself further.

Vilkas knows that you'll say yes but fuck, he's still terrified. You're relaxing in the fancy inn, muscles loose from an afternoon of lazing in the hot springs. He's never been away from Jorrvaskr for so long without being on an assignment but tonight his nerves are entirely your fault. He's had it planned out for weeks. The many days spent relaxing far from the worries of your everyday life have lead up to this evening; a fancy dinner he's picked out every little component of, chilled drinks on the patio, and the ring. It sounds so easy in his mind but standing here in your rented cabin, he can't keep his hands from shaking. Thank the gods you help him with that last button. He'd only bought the jacket after you pointed out it would look nice on him, and when you smile up at him he can hardly breathe. "Are we running away?" You sigh, thumb tracing over his cheek. "Not if we plan on going back." He fumbles with the box in his pocket, stunned when you smile up at him. "There's no one else in the world I'd rather run away with. Even if it's just for a couple days." He isn't sure what he's thinking - the entire plan is forgotten when you're beaming up at him. Vilkas produces the ring, heart swelling at your words and the blatant love in your eyes when you gaze up at him. Suddenly his meticulously planned dinner seems far less romantic than what you'd said. "Vilkas," you pause, carefully reaching toward the little box. "What is this?" "Please marry me." He chokes out, all his fear and anxiety spiking when you thumb it open to glance at the ring. It's bewildering how just a few minutes can feel like hours but he endures it, choking back every nervous word until you respond. "Of course I'll marry you, Vilkas." Thank the gods you put him out of his misery. Vilkas feels numb when you launch yourself at him, arms around his shoulders and face buried in his neck. God, the world feels so wonderful right now. Vilkas holds you to his chest, relief slowly ridding him of those nerves until he's practically giddy - you've agreed to marry him.

#skyrim #writing #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #farkas #teldryn sero #miraak #brynjolf #balimund #mercer frey #vilkas

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spore-loser · 4 months ago

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Why Nesta Was Forced into the House of Wind

Very often, I see readers with misconceptions about Nesta's situation in ACOSF. They say she was only put in the House of Wind to heal her, that she had a choice in the matter, or that her lack of a choice was for her own good.

The truth is : Nesta was forced into the House of Wind to put her to work for the IC, not for her mental and physical health.

So first off, Feyre admitted it was about control and getting Nesta to work.

“Oh, so it’s about you saving face—” “It is about how it reflects upon me, upon Rhys, and upon my court when my damned sister spends our money on wine and gambling and does nothing to contribute to this city! If my sister cannot be controlled, then why should we have the right to rule over anyone else?”

(ACOSF, Ch.2)

If Nesta's well-being was the top consideration, she should have been sent to live with the priestesses and to see their counselor (who Gwyn mentioned, so therapy is a thing in Prythian). Both Mor and Rhys had stayed with the priestesses so the IC knew they could have done that for Nesta. Instead, she was forced to work in the library as a punishment to humble her, without access to a mental health professional.

If it was really about Nesta’s physical and mental health, then why are the human lands a "choice" she was given? She would be vulnerable there, having to hide away from human prejudice that would threaten her life. How is Nesta supposed to think that people who would leave her there care about her well-being?

ACOSF's text revealed it was only the illusion of choice, but the question stands. Nesta was not made aware until she basically called the bluff. Say 'no' multiple times to the HoW and training was essentially choosing the human lands. But the IC didn't allow that.

So the human lands was just an especially undesirable "option" to get Nesta to more easily accept what the IC wanted. What the text directly shows is that she was never given a real choice. The IC said Nesta had one, but then forced her into what they wanted after she refused to "choose" it.

“I’m not moving to the House of Wind,” Nesta said. “And I’m not training at that miserable village. Certainly not with him.” (...) “It’s not up for negotiation,” Amren said (...) “Like hell it isn’t,” Nesta challenged (...) “Your apartment is being packed as we speak,” Amren said, (...) “By the time you return, it will be empty (...)"

Feyre swallowed, but didn’t balk. “That is enough. You’re moving up to the House, you’re going to train and work, and I don’t care what vitriol you spew my way. You’re doing it.”

[Feyre said] “That’s why you’re going to train at Windhaven. You will learn to control yourself.” “I won’t go.” “You’re going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there. You will follow Cassian’s lessons, and you will do whatever work Clotho requires in the library.” (...) “(...) Any free time is yours to spend as you wish. In the House.”

(ACOSF, Ch.2)

With her power, there is no way Rhys and Amren would ever let Nesta go. She was much too valuable and they wanted her for their tasks. Feyre was home-bound and Elain was never given the chance to step up. Even though Elain volunteered to help, was in a better place mentally and physically, had Amren and Feyre's backing, she was still just used as a bargaining chip to get Nesta to act.

Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, “There is an innate darkness to the Dread Trove that Elain should not be exposed to.” “But Nesta should?” Cassian growled.

Cassian glowered at Amren. “It’s not right to wield Elain as a threat to manipulate Nesta into scrying.” “There are harsher ways to convince Nesta, boy." (...) "We must head off this potential disaster before we lose the advantage. If we need to manipulate Nesta into scrying, even by using Elain against her, then we’ll do what is necessary.”

(ACOSF, Ch. 29)

If Nesta was only put in the HoW for her recovery, then why was she continuously put at risk to get the Dread Trove? It was extremely dangerous. She could have died and was sexually assaulted on top of that.

The Archeron sisters were being manipulated to do what Rhys and Amren wanted, and were used against each other. Rhys knew money was a sore spot for Feyre when it came to Nesta. Reading her bill item by item in front of everyone was an effective tactic to get Feyre to agree to his plans.

Rhys had read each item aloud. Bottles of rare wine, exotic foods, gambling debts … (…) Cassian knew there’d been previous conversations—fights—about Nesta. (…) But as Feyre wept at the table, he knew it was a breaking of some sort. (…) Rhys had laid a comforting hand on Feyre’s, squeezing gently before he looked at Azriel, and then Cassian, and laid out his plan. As if he’d had it waiting a long, long while.

(ACOSF, Ch.2)

There was no need to do that in front of others except to embarrass Feyre so she was more likely to accept his plan. Rhys and Feyre can trade information mentally and he didn’t even need to physically show her the bill, let alone read it out loud. Judging by how Feyre was with Nesta spending money in the cabin, she would have agreed to Rhys’ plan just by him giving a mind-to-mind total of how much Nesta spent.

Along with Cassian’s realization, we have textual evidence that Rhys wanted to plan something for Nesta since the events of ACOFS.

Cassian and my mate’s sister did not speak to each other at all. Nesta had successfully cloistered herself in some slummy apartment across the Sidra, refusing to interact with any of us save for a few brief visits with Feyre every month. I’d have to find a way to fix that, too.

(ACOFS, Ch.2)

Feyre suspected Cassian and Nesta’s mate bond since ACOWAR, where she and Rhys discuss the possibility.

“Are he and Nesta …?” “I don’t know. Until the bond snaps into place, it can be hard to detect.”

(ACOWAR, Ch. 47)

So not letting Nesta train with Azriel was a way to make her spend time with Cassian, regardless of her wishes.

And making Nesta train was not simply a way to strengthen her body and get in shape. As someone malnourished, suffering from an eating disorder, she needed time to nourish her body, to put on weight and muscle before she started training. In actuality, Nesta was made to train so she could go on missions for the IC and 'contribute to Velaris' as soon as possible.

[Azriel said] “If Briallyn and Koschei find just one of the Dread Trove items—” “Let Nesta try it her way first.” Cassian held Az’s stare. “If we go in and order her to do it, it’ll backfire. Let her exhaust her other options before she realizes only one is viable.” Azriel studied his face, then nodded solemnly.

(ACOSF, Ch. 22)

“Nesta has to start looking for the Trove,” Amren said (...) Cassian met Amren’s gray stare. “Nesta’s been looking. Don’t push her.” Rhys said from where he lounged at the head of the table, “She’s had the priestesses researching for her. I’d hardly call that looking.” (...) [Amren said] “We are on the cusp of another war. We let the Cauldron slip from our hands in the last one and it nearly cost us everything.”

(ACOSF, Ch. 29)

Even though Cassian had misgivings and stood up for Nesta to the IC, he still ultimately went in line with them [i.e. Rhys]. He took Nesta into dangerous situations, once leaving her all alone in the Bog of Oorid, where she was sexually assaulted by and escaped being killed by a kelpie.

Of his own accord, he took Nesta on a dangerous hike in the mountains, making her carry a heavy pack, sweaty and wobbly under the weight of all their things – to punish her.

[F:] Nesta has never been on a hike in her life. I guarantee she will hate it. [C:] Then tell Rhys this is her punishment. Because Rhys, despite apologizing for his threats, would still be furious. Tell him that Nesta and I are going to hike, and she’s going to hate it, but she comes home when I decide she’s ready to come home. Feyre was quiet for a long minute. [F:] He says that he knows he’s supposed to say that’s unnecessary, but to tell you he’s secretly delighted. [C:] Good. I am secretly glad to hear that.

This was despite his and Feyre's belief that Nesta wasn't just trying to hurt Feyre.

She … He thought it over. I think she saw the parallels between your situations and, in her own way, decided to avenge both of you. [F:] That’s my feeling, too. Rhys disagrees. [C:] I wish you’d found out a different way. [F:] Well, I didn’t. But we’ll face it together. All of us.

This was despite the fact that Feyre wanted Nesta and Cassian to come back. So he was undermining her decision as High Lady. (When you examine the text, it's clear that nobody in the IC actually respects Feyre's position and it's an empty title. But that's a post for another day.)

[F:] Rhys had no right to chase you from the city, or to threaten Nesta. He has realized that, and apologized. I want you to come back home. Both of you. Where did you even head off to? [C:] The wilderness. Cassian looked over a shoulder, to where Nesta had been asleep for the past few hours, curled into a tight ball against the wall of rock. I think we’ll stay out here for a few days. We’re going to hike.

(ACOSF, Ch. 47) Nesta could have fallen and died and wouldn't even have cared because she was so full of guilt for hurting Feyre. Cassian never told her Feyre was all right, forgave her, and wanted them to return to Velaris; he let Nesta stew in her self-loathing. He realized Nesta had no will to live but still ignored her hobbling behind him for days, walking ahead while not carrying a pack himself. When Nesta fainted from dehydration, he yelled at her for it. The man yelled at a woman with no will to live for displaying symptoms of it.

When she expressed she didn't deserve him, Cassian didn't say love isn't a transaction. At the end of ACOSF, Nesta believes love for her must be deserved. Rather than as a caring for her as a person, she thinks love is something completely dependent on her "good behavior" within the IC. This isn't a healed woman, it's a mentally broken woman.

Nesta only benefited in ACOSF because she made friends with Emerie, Gwyn, and the priestesses. She was the one to encourage them to train, which resulted in them all becoming Valkyries together, forming a sisterhood through their hard work.

#nesta archeron #ic critical #acosf #acotar #book analysis

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