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cheesus-doodles · 7 months ago

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Star-Crossed by Choice: Chapter 3

Yandere Raihan & Leon with Champion Darling

Pokemon SwSh and SV Crossover

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<< Chapter 1 | 2

Masterlist

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apologies for the sudden hiatus yall ;-; i've been pulling midnight days almost every day for the past month for work on top of dealing with quite a severe writer block - things has been calming down somewhat so I look forward to ramping up my writing again! thank you for your patience :3

“You ungrateful little whore,” Raihan all but snarled out, the whites of his gritted teeth glinting in the dim street light as he stared you down.

Your body instantly reacted, attempting to stumble back and away despite having collapsed on the ground, your trembling gaze all but locked on Raihan’s icy teals, unable to turn away. If looks could kill, you wouldn’t be dead, no - the fate that awaited you was so much worse than the kind embrace of death. Your Cinderace let out an uncertain trill as it looked back at you, quickly followed by an annoyed one as it shifted to block your view of the gym leader. The astute Pokemon you had the honor to call your partner was more than well aware of the situation, though its efforts did little to stop the shivers that wrecked your body as you tried and failed to force yourself to get up and move.

Raihan was hardly deterred. “After all I’ve done for you, after all you’ve put me through-” The taller man took a step forward, his towering shadow falling over you, eyes almost seeming to glow in the dark and he stared you down. “This is how you repay my love?”

It was as if your Cinderace barely existed between the two of you, those narrowed eyes piercing straight past the Pokemon and into your soul, a shot from a harpoon that hooked into your flesh and froze you in place. There was no right answer to his question, even if you could muster the words to reply, because there wasn’t supposed to be one; you were never right. Only wrong.

The town of Cortando was predictably quiet at this time of the night, with residents and student visitors having long retreated into their beds to prepare for the coming day. You envied them - and you always had - having the freedom that the new dawn would bring to look forward to. And even though you treasured every day you could roam the rolling hills of Paldea, free from the shackled throne you were forced to sit upon in Galar, it wasn’t without needing to constantly look over your back for the monsters that lurked in the shadows.

And now, the freedom you had so carefully constructed for yourself was threatening to shatter before your eyes.

You gulped, pleading eyes sliding to glance at Nemona, who was still staring blankly at the whole ongoing shitshow. What now? Could you simply give all this up? Go back to the safety of what you knew? You had to, your mind screamed at you. Concede now, surrender and return peacefully before it’s too late, and you could maybe still enjoy some semblance of the miniscule comfort you had before your abrupt escape.

But it was your heart and the sinking feeling in the base of your gut that told you the truth. That it was already too late for you: you had forced the Hammerlocke gym leader into giving up all pretense of playing the persona he was so loved for, and like an awakened dragon, the man you faced was now one usually reserved only for you and your transgressions against him. Allowing others to lay eyes on such a private side of him would hardly be kind to you if Raihan got his way.

“Hey! Eyes here while I’m talking to you,” the man snapped, and your gaze immediately jumped back to meet his, the hair on the back of your neck standing as you realized that you had been too obvious in allowing your attention to waver away from Raihan. If Cinderace hadn’t been between the two of you, you were sure around your neck was exactly where the other’s hands would be at this precise point in time. “Do I mean so little to you now, princess? Just trash to be cast aside, huh?”

What now? What else?

‎

Yet that was hardly the whole sum of your issues at the moment. Allowing your eyes to slide away from Raihan once more as the man continued to vent and rant to himself, and there in the dim yellow light waited another patient pair, Leon looking deceptively relaxed from where he was leaned against an unassuming lamppost lazily scanning his surroundings, just a stone’s throw behind the hoodie-touting gym leader. And as if he could feel your wide-eyed stare, the ex-Champion looked up, catching your eyes lingering on him. Smirking as he dropped whatever it was that he had been tossing from one hand to the other, the purple-haired man leisurely strolled over, clapping one hand over an unusually agitated Raihan’s shoulder. “Calm, Raihan,” Leon smirked, golden eyes having never left yours. “She’s still here.”

Raihan let out an annoyed tsk, shaking Leon off of him, though the gym leader did take a deep breath and calmed down.

I’m still here, you repeated mentally. So close where they could almost grasp you, your eyes flickering between the two as their shadow only seemed to grow longer and longer, swallowing you up and dragging you further from the light, yet so far away. Your chances to get away were only getting slimmer with every passing minute. Having to shake Raihan off was one thing, with the blue-eyed man’s seemingly dragon-like senses and his ability to read you like an open book, but adding Leon into the equation was a whole different ball game.

But you had to try. Giving up and returning to that life that awaited you, it simply wasn’t an option, if not for you, then for your beloved Pokemon friends. You’ve already beaten them once, you tried to reassure yourself. All that time ago, when you had become Galar Champion, and then again and again every Championship. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, you shifted your hand, dipping into your pocket to pull out a small clicker, all the while wrecking your brains to come up with a plan. You just had to beat them again this time. Give up, those nagging voices at the back of your mind urged again.

Far from the rage that Raihan had worked himself into, Leon was still calm and collected, the tanned man with a mob of purple hair reaching out towards you, offering one ungloved hand as if an olive branch. “It’s time to come home, love,” he reassured. “It’s not too late. Everything’ll go back to normal, same way it always was, if you come home with us now. I promise.”

A lie. You know better to fall for those honeyed words - that hadn’t been a question but an order. You closed your eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. It was all too much for you.

Those amber eyes moved to lock onto your Cinderace. “And you. Return to your Pokeball.”

Your partner pokemon bristled, letting out a warning growl.

‎

Leon had always frightened you, more than Raihan ever did. The Dragon gym leader had always been very obvious, very deliberate with his actions, never bothering to hide his intentions, to the extent of making it public to his leagues of fans the moment you were in his grasp. But you hadn’t even noticed the once-undefeated Champion’s claws wrapping around you until he already had you trapped.

The glimpse of purple hair you kept catching from the corner of your eye had you momentarily thinking of Hop, your oldest and dearest friend that you had left behind in Galar. You wondered how he was doing, whether he still thought of you like you did of him. Whether he had already achieved his goal of researching rare pokemon. Whether he still looked up to his older brother after what Leon had done to him the day you toppled Goliath and became reigning Champion.

You thought about writing to him from time to time, especially during those lonely nights when you camped out in the far corner of some field, stoking a crackling fire under the twinkling stars with your Pokemon fast asleep around you. You remembered when Hop would join you to feast on curry when the two of you were kids, when neither had any worries beyond homework and whether the channels would have the latest episode of your favorite show. But you had always decided against it at the end of the day, worried about being tracked down should Leon get a hold of one - and you could only offer simple wishes up to whatever deity was listening that Hop was doing well.

Fat load of good that did you.

Your hand moved fast, tapping away on the converted morse paddle key hidden to the side of your body: non-verbal instructions to your Cinderace. Not only was it a system that both you and your Pokemon were well accustomed with, having practiced it again and again throughout the course of the Galar Championships and beyond, but it also took advantage of Pokemon’s natural heightened senses and your two self-established “guardians” inability to understand. And you knew your partner heard you loud and clear, the bunny Pokemon’s ear twitching in acknowledgement despite keeping its back turned to you.

Though despite your best attempts, your unspoken communication didn’t go unnoticed. Leon’s face darkened, in step with Raihan snarling. “Not going to use your words?” “What did I say about clicking?”

Fortunately, right on cue, Cinderace took a quick swipe at them, forcing the two men back a few paces to avoid the tip of its feet before your partner retreated back to stand guard in front of you.

The breeze had picked up once more, carrying with it the calls of Hoothoot and the rustle of grass from outside of town, the fields alive with nocturnal Pokemon. You shivered in the warm wind, your mind racing. One step down, countless more to go. Could you pull it off?

‎

It was far too obvious that you weren’t giving up the fight just yet, Raihan mused, sharp eyes lasering in on you as you kept your gaze downturned and focused on the ground, his grin only seeming to lengthen with the shadows that danced in the night. Sure, you had always been on the timid, shy side, even to the point of being a selective mute, but he could tell this was one of those rare times where your instinct to struggle against the current bubbled to the surface. You had always been a crafty little thing when you needed to.

Yet the scales were still tipped in his favor.

“Fiery,” the Hammerlocke gym leader all but purred out, pulling your attention out from your thoughts. “You sure you wanna do that though?” He reached into his pocket, and you flinched on instinct. Good.

Pulling out an all-too familiar Pokeball, the orb was clutched in one tanned hand held halfway out, just enough for the light to catch its top.

You turned pale, staggering to your feet immediately, your eyes locked on that ball. No doubt you would easily recognise the Pokeball he now held as your own: the once-glossy red surface painstakingly decorated with cute little details that he imagined you carving with the tip of a knife in the light of a campfire once upon a time, far out in the Wild Area and away from prying eyes. “You know who this is, don’t you, lil champ?”

You couldn’t tear your eyes away, tears beginning to well in the corner of your already swollen eyes as you tried to shake your head, attempting to plead silently to spare you the pain.

Ah that helpless, what a sight for sore eyes indeed. If only you could voice that plea.

And with a quick toss, it was clear to the hooded trainer that he had only confirmed your worst nightmares, Lapras bursting forth and manifesting before Cinderace with a cry. Back when he had let his guard down and allowed you to escape from his grasp back in Galar, you had managed to slip away with just six of your Pokemon - your prized Pokemon to say the least, given those six formed the core of your Championship team. But, Raihan smirked, casually sliding both hands into the pockets of his hoodie, it was no secret you cared deeply for all your Pokemon, and those you left behind were still in his and Leon’s possession.

Even your Cinderace seemed uncertain of the evolving situation, breaking its fighting stance to glance between you and its former ally.

Now, what were you going to do next?

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Your world felt like it was on the brink of imploding, the very air just a wrong touch away from collapsing around you. That wretched thick black collar that hung from Lapras’ neck, one you were all too familiar with - you could barely bite back the whimper that you felt threatening to escape from your throat. Whatever you did, one wrong move and you would once again be the sole cause of the world of suffering Lapras would be put through.

You shaking met Lapras’ eyes, to which the Pokemon let out a mournful sigh, and Cinderace returned a sad trill. It wasn’t the first time both had found the other on opposing sides since you had your living arrangement forcibly updated at the end of the Galar Championship, but neither liked the outcome. Maybe Leon and Raihan were right. Maybe you should just give in and end the pain.

“Just leave her alone already!” A sudden interruption that sliced through the silence of the night like a hot knife through butter, and Nemona came stomping over from behind him, an uncharacteristically furious expression painted across the usually cheery girl. “She doesn’t want to go with you!” With a distinct lack of fear in her eyes and a lack of care for who your two pursuers were on the world stage, your friend marched past them without a second glance, putting herself squarely on your side and in your corner.

The Champion-ranked trainer turned to you. “Don’t get me wrong, I most definitely want to have a battle with you once all this blows over,” she declared, pausing for a moment before continuing on. “And I want to know everything. But I’m on your side. Got it?”

You simply nodded.

There was little question that Raihan and Leon would be angry, and you didn’t need to look to know just how downright pissed they were. Instead opting to turn your gaze to Nemona then to the ground, it was as if your mind had connected the dots faster than you could have realized, and you had to take a second look at the uniform-clad girl. Right before it hit you like a charging Rhyhorn, the sudden realization instantly shaking your entire perspective and turning your world upside down.

You were no longer in Galar.

Yes, there was no doubt that Raihan and Leon were still Master Class trainers that have conquered the World Coronation Championships, and were most definitely famous even here in Paldea as the famous Dragon Gym Leader of Hammerlocke and the former Galar Champion. But missing were the leagues of women who would throw their weeks away to comb every inch of grass for signs of you on Raihan’s command. And gone were the nosy trainers who would be more than happy to turn over information on your location just for a word of praise from Leon, or the crowds of your self-declared fans who could recognize you turned inside out from a yard away.

They were as good as nobodies here, and so were you.

‎

And now all the wheels began to turn. The modified morse paddle key that served as your clicker went into overdrive as you tried to get your thoughts out to Cinderace as fast as your fingers could go.

You could get away. There was still a way out for you.

Raihan seemed to have caught on to the sudden hope that surged in your veins, the toothy grin on his face dropping as he narrowed his eyes. “Lapras, Hydro Pump,” he ordered.

Lapras resisted, letting out a defiant cry as it rebelled against his orders. Your countdown has started.

Two clicks, and your Cinderace leapt forward, foot extended to land a Double Kick.

You didn’t look to see if the attack landed, attempting to turn out all external sounds from your buzzing ears; the butterflies in your chest already made it hard enough to keep breathing. Instead, you cleared your throat, your mouth moving as you tried to force a word, a sound, anything from your vocal chords. “S-St-” You exhaled, shuddering, your efforts going unnoticed amidst the chaos of the moment.

The Dragon Gym Leader had withdrawn a small remote, a promise, not a threat. “Lapras, use Hydro Pump,” he ordered again.

It wasn’t enough. A full word. All you needed was a single full word. If not for yourself, then for the hell that your Pokemon had been through - there was no other choice. You had to do it.

Nemona’s eyebrows were furrowed as she watched the battle go down, the other three trainers paying little attention to you as you carefully tiptoed over to retrieve your backpack off the ground, the clock in your head ticking down slowly but surely. Tick tock, the nagging voices in your head whispered to you. Tick tock.

There was little time to decide what the right move was, whether you did the right thing; you simply rationalized that you should pick whoever you wouldn’t mind being stuck with again should you have to return to Galar. Raihan did treat you like royalty whenever he wasn't angry at some unspoken rule that you unknowingly broke, and would only increase should you pick him, with the downside being the numerous eyes and constant spotlight that followed the popular trainer around. While no doubt that Leon’s treatment of you would improve greatly if you picked him, the man had always been very demanding, holding you to an impossible standard.

Reaching into your backpack right for your Pokemon as Cinderace dodged the jet of water aimed at him, everything that happened next took but a blink of an eye.

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All you could muster the strength to mutter was a single word, yet it was enough. A broken whisper of a single syllabus, mumbled by a hoarse voice that didn’t seem to see much use. “Raihan-”

Both men instantly startled, amber and aqua eyes snapping straight to yours as their jaws dropped. But it was all the distraction you needed.

Click. Your Vileplume manifested, instantly using Stun Spore, with both Vileplume Cinderace being recalled to their respective balls before the yellow dust even touched the ground.

You grabbed Nemona’s arm, yanking her backwards with surprising strength as you clutched your backpack tight to your chest. Another shrill song as Gardevoir manifested, the Psychic pokemon lightly touching its green sleeve-like arms to you, using Teleport.

And in under a minute, your little group was gone, vanishing without a trace from Cortondo.

‎

“She-she said my name,” Raihan mumbled again and again, sounding very much star-struck. “My name. M-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Leon snapped back, annoyed.

Being left sprawled on the ground waiting for the effects of the paralysis to fade didn’t help much with the former Galar Champion’s mood, even less so when you had been just an arm’s length away. One grab away from going back to how life had been with you. And now, Leon had to live with the fact that after years and years of patience, waiting eagerly for a chance to hear your elusive voice. Soft and gentle, like the trickle of a river, your voice had been everything he ever imagined and more - and it was his rival’s name that left your lips first.

It must be her, the purple-haired man fumed, a soft glow of red as an equally paralyzed Lapras was recalled to its ball by a giddy, giggling Raihan. That stupid Champion-ranked girl with the green highlighted hair. All his time and effort, taming and training you into his love - and she had broken his perfect you the moment his back was turned. All his work for nothing, gone like sand art at high tide.

Letting out a groan as Leon finally felt control of his body return, he could only slam the back of his head into the dust once in frustration before standing.

Raihan had won this fight, but Leon sure as hell was going to make sure he wins the war.

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sluttysnowangel666 · 5 months ago

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The Song of Blackwoods and Brackens - finale

Thank you so much to those who read and loved this story, I originally intended for it to be much shorter and with a way sadder ending( title was inspired by the song of achilles so i felt a tragic end was fitting) but i got carried away, and i couldn't find the strength to break everyone's hearts. This fanfic is the first time i've gotten back to writing since i was like 12 years old, usually these stories play in my head and i just leave them there but for some reason this one took a life of its own. if people would like to read the alternate ending, let me know and perhaps ill post it. until then, i hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it. thank you all my delulu bloody ben baddies, i love you more than you know.

masterlist

𐂃 𐂃 𐂃 𐂃

I didn't know how I got there. All I knew was that these moments were about to be my last.

Everything had happened so quickly. The situation spiraled out of control before I even realized it was occurring.

Smoke was everywhere, bodies were everywhere. I couldn't walk without stepping on someone. I knew I was going to die. I could barely walk, could barely see.

I could live with dying. I made my bed, I'm ready to lie in it.

He and I were doomed from the start. I loved him; It ruined my life.

My ears were ringing, my eye was in excruciating pain, as well as my leg.

"Ben." I mumble out, disoriented. "Benny..."

I scan the area. Nothing but bodies. Oh, Gods. What if he was one of them?

There's cries of men in the distance, and the sound of fire crackling the burning mill.

I manage to push myself up, leaning on my sword. I cry out at the pain.

Gods... This was all my fault. I'd destroyed everything I touched. My brother was dead, I couldn't find my lover, I had no idea how long I'd been knocked unconscious.

"Benjicot!" I cried out. "Ben!"

An arrow whips past my head, nailing the wood post behind me. I do a full turn, and see a woman.

She's not much older than me, her hair is long and dark. Alysanne Blackwood.

"Black Aly." I say.

"Who are you?" She asks, an arrow aimed at me.

"I... don't know anymore."

"Judging by your clothes, you're a Bracken. My only concern is... you're a woman. Why is a Bracken woman fighting here instead of cowering in her chambers?"

I don't answer. "I've slain your uncle." She says.

I growl with anger. "You bitch!"

"Too slow." She teases.

I raise my sword, she pulls back on her bow.

"Stop this now!"

I turn, and he's there. Alive. He was greatly wounded, covered in blood as was I, but he was alive.

I can't hold back anymore. Gods, I was so angry with him, but I didn't even care. I limp towards him, bursting into tears the second I fall into his arms.

"Oh, my sweet." He cries, pulling us to the ground. He kisses my bloody head, sobbing into my hair. "We need to get you a maester, now."

I pull away, landing a hard slap across his face. "That's for knocking me unconscious, you craven."

"You left me no choice." He says, hardly phased.

"I know. I'm sorry." I say. He kisses me again.

"Nephew," Alysanne interrupts. "who is this woman dressed as a man?"

"My betrothed." He says.

"This battle... was all because you loved a Bracken?" She asks, incredulous.

"No." I answer. "It was my fault. My family started it... It was because I loved a Blackwood."

"What's the difference?"

"Fuck you, Alysanne."

"Tread lightly, Bracken scum. I'll still fly this arrow through your good eye-"

"Gods sakes, enough! The both of you." Benji demands. "Aly, please, she needs a maester."

Alysanne hesitates, but nods. She turns and runs, happy to be as far from my destructiveness as possible.

Benji helps me begin walking back to Raventree Hall, letting me lean on him for support.

I hear a cough, a familiar, raspy cough. I turn, shocked to see my uncle leaned against a post, an arrow in his left chest plate.

"Uncle." I say.

"You're still alive?" He coughs, blood spewing out of his mouth.

"I am." I say. I push off Benji to stand on my own.

"Get it over with." He sighs.

"Do you have any last words?" I ask.

"You're a disgrace to the Bracken name." He says.

"Well then," I pause. "it's a good thing I'm a Blackwood."

I turn to Benji, whose face reads nothing but pride in me.

"My betrothed," I start.

"Yes, my lady?"

"I believe I know what I want for our wedding."

"Whatever pleases, my lady. Ask and it is done."

I smirk, "I want his head."

One clean swipe was all it took.

Bloody Ben, gets on one knee, and holds up my uncle's head as a gesture of love to our union.

"Put it on a spike. Remind those what happens when you challenge a Blackwood."

———

The maester did what he could to stop the infection, but my right eye could not be saved.

"I look like a monster." I say, trying not to cry.

"The scar will be quite attractive." Ben says. I roll my good eye. "You can cover it, my love, if you so wish. Or perhaps a ruby, or obsidian to take its place."

My leg would fortunately recover. The scar ran from my thigh down to my calf. I have no idea how the maester was able to save it, but he did, and I was forever in his debt.

It would take me years to fully recover, but I had time. We had time.

It took days to clean up the land of bodies. Rain came, cleaning the grass of the blood that stained. After that, it was as if the battle never happened.

Each time I laid my eyes upon Stone Hedge, I sobbed. I would never forgive myself for my brother's death. While time would heal my wounds, they would never heal my grief.

———

Some years later

Benjicot and I married on the 20th day of the 7th moon of 129 AC. The union was approved by the queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, and her son Jacaerys had come to celebrate in her name.

I had become Lady Blackwood of Raventree Hall, and I was finally loved. I was loved deeply and greatly by my lord husband, Benjicot.

I had found a family in ones who were once considered my enemies. Alysanne and I set our differences aside and became sisters, Willem Blackwood accepted me as his new daughter.

The war however, was not so kind. It had been called The Dance of Dragons. My husband and I had gone off to fight for our kingdom numerous times, no matter how much he begged for me to stay back.

Nowhere felt more familiar to us than the battlefield. We fought side by side, protecting each other always. We had earned the nickname Bloody Ravens in time.

When the war finally ended, my husband and I returned home for good. Scars covered our bodies and we embraced them. They were reminders of who we were, and what we had endured together. Reminders that no matter what we faced, we would always be there to protect the other.

One day, my husband came to me.

"My little Bracken." He said, kissing my neck and wrapping his arms around me as we stood on the balcony, overlooking the land.

"Lord Husband." I greeted him. He hummed in my neck.

"I believe it's time we produced some heirs for House Blackwood." He says, planting gentle kisses along my neck.

"Is the babe in my belly not enough?" I ask, a playful smirk on my lips. He moves his hand down to my swollen belly, rubbing gentle circles.

"I want these halls running with Blackwood children." He continues to kiss me.

"Oh, my dear husband." I turn and cup his cheeks in my hand. "When I push this babe out within the next few days, you can fill me with another."

He smiles, planting a gentle kiss on my lips. Our daughter was born on the 3rd moon of 132 AC. Her name was Alyssa Blackwood. Benji held true to his word because after that pregnancy, we had 4 more; a boy and girl, the heir to Raventree Hall Aeron and his twin sister Aly Blackwood, another son, Benjamin Blackwood, another daughter, Nyra Blackwood, and another son Willem Blackwood.

"My little ravens." Benjicot called them.

And we lived in domestic bliss. Indeed, we had never felt peace again. But, who does after you have children? Our ravens roamed our halls, spreading chaos as Benjicot and I had when we were younger, but it was all we wanted. One day, my children would know the doomed song of their father and I's love. They would learn the history of our houses, the feud between them, the loss of their uncle. They were Bracken and Blackwood, through and through.

Bloody Ben died, and in his place was Benjicot Blackwood... Until the time always inevitably came where my husband and I went back out to fight. You can take the man out of the war, but you can never take the war out of the man.

Sometimes, we still snuck away at night, going back to that weirwood where it all began. We played, we swam, we fought, we fucked, we loved. It would always be our place, for just us. No matter what happened, no matter where we started, no matter who we were, who we became... we would always return to where we were meant to be.

And in years and years when Benji and I grew old and gray, ready to meet the Gods, we knew we would come back here again.

Together.

Where we began... Where we end.

𐂃 🐦‍⬛

#hotd #hotd season 2 #benji blackwood #benjicot blackwood #davos blackwood #house blackwood #bloody ben #benjicot blackwood x reader #benjicot x reader #team black #aeron bracken #house bracken #kieran burton #ben blackwood #ben blackwood x reader #benjicot smut

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mika-no-sekai-blog · 11 months ago

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Word count: 2300+

Warnings: mentions of puking, emotional and mental stress, mixed feelings

Honestly, this part was a pure struggle💦 Except of Rhysand's offer that I wanted in this chapter I had nothing..

Also I've got a little carried away🤷

Part X | Part XII

Two weeks had passed since Rhysand, your brother, brought you to his court. You calmed down a bit, partly accepting the situation and giving him the chance he asked you for. Maybe the powder he mixed every morning into your tea, could have something to do with it. Not even honey could beat over the bitterness that remained on the tongue.

Of course, you could refuse the tea, but you were afraid someone would force it down your throat anyway. You felt Rhysand watching you carefully until the teacup was empty and only then the tension in the room eased. And so dutifully pretending you didn't notice anything, you drank it.

Whatever was that powder for, your desire to return home hadn't changed at all. At this point you felt really homesick, trying to hide it in front of others. It was useless to show your weaknesses, your vulnerability. Nobody would help you get out of here anyway.

You were gradually introduced to Rhysand's friends and family. Some of them claimed to know you since you were a newborn, some seemed to be new additions like Feyre, your brother's mate, and her sisters. Everyone was nothing but nice and friendly to you, but you were still uncomfortable around them.

Every time Rhysand had some free time, he spent it with you, showing you the city or taking you for walk in the large garden around the house while telling you stories of past. Morrigan, your cousin, did the same. They tried really hard to make you remember something.

Even now you were sitting with Mor on terrace of some cafe in the city, river running under it, attracting your attention like a magnet.

She told you that before you had been basically best friends, always spending time together and breaking all the rules parents set. However it didn't help to change your feelings or to be more relaxed with her. It was apparent she had a certain expectations and it made you even more uneasy. Just like with Rhysand.

Today she took you out to drink an ice tea, the drink she claimed to be your absolute favourite one. Before.

After the first few sips you swore never touch it again. It was everything except of delicious or tea.

You tried to keep up with her, listening to all the memories that supposed to be yours, but it felt rather as memories of someone else, someone so different it couldn't be you. None of the things you'd been told so far, felt familiar. It just made you tired and your head threatened to explode with pain.

You were trapped in this strange city, with these strangers. You couldn't sleep, eat nor drink, hardly dragging yourself through the days. Large garden around Rhysand's house took some of the stress away, but it wasn't enough. You needed the forest, your cottage, walks in nature, fresh air. You needed even him, although it hurt to even think about him. The first few days you still hoped he would appear and take you back home, but your hope died like plucked flowers in a vase leaving only a bleeding hole in your heart.

Mor finally gave up and took you back to your brother's house. She had that strange expression that reminded you of a mask holding all her emotions back, only her eyes revealed some sort of sadness. You were sure she would go to Rhysand and tell him about your afternoon, about your lack of response or interest. She always did. You couldn't care less. You weren't here by choice, you didn't want this. None of this.

Letting a sigh of relieve out, you went up the stairs and shut the door of your room behind. You needed to be alone, another thing that was very rare to have here. There was always someone with you and even when they left, you still felt eyes hidden in the dark corners following you around. Were you becoming paranoid? Most likely yes. But the unpleasant ticklish feeling on the back of your neck was always present.

You wanted to curl up in a ball and cry your eyes out, but first you had to go to toilet. This city, this house, all of them reeked of magic so strong that you were nonstop on the edge, hardly managing to hide the nausea from them. Another weakness you didn't want them to know about. A few gulps of ice tea you forced in, left your body, but it didn't help. Real relief never came.

Panting you moved to the sink to rinse your mouth. You rather avoided the mirror knowing what you would see. Dark circles under the eyes caused by bloody nightmares that wouldn't let you sleep, sunken cheeks because you couldn't eat and anything you managed to force down, ended up in toilet as soon as you were in your room. You didn't know how long your body could keep going like this, but you knew it wouldn't be long.

You returned to your room and winced in surprise. Rhysand stood in front of the bathroom door with tortured expression, his brows furrowed, jaw tightened, fingers clenched into fists on his sides. His violet-blue eyes searched yours. He seemed to want to say something, but his lips were firmly pressed together.

Great. Now he knew. You tried to avoid his gaze and get to the armchair near the window. But he stopped you. His arms embraced you, pulling you to his chest. You just stood there, unsure what to do. Even if you tried you couldn't fight him off.

"Tell me what should I do," he whispered to your hair. There was so much pain in his voice. Funny.

As far as you knew, he sincerely cared about you. Problem was you couldn't return the sentiment. No smile or amount of shared memories could change it. You weren't the person he remembered anymore. Asking him to let you go back to your cottage was a waste of time, too. You already tried it and he refused.

After a few heartbeats Rhysand recovered, his hands stopped trembling. Instead he moved them to your cheeks, thumbs caressing them gently.

"I talked with Madja, the healer who visited you this morning," he led you to bed and sat down. You did so, too. "She said you are exhausted and need a good night sleep. She left this tonic to help you sleep soundly." He put small bottle on the nightstand. "Two drops before going to bed would do," he smirked, but his eyes stayed sad.

You looked at vial. Another medicine to control you and your feelings. Even though you knew he meant this well, it only added on your anger. You rather stayed silent, decided to never take the mixture.

He seemed to choose next words carefully. "However she couldn't find a cause for your.." His voice died out and eyes wandered back to bathroom door. So he had noticed it even before. Of course. It wasn't surprising at all. He also knew about the nightmares after all. "Until now I didn't want to pressure you. I hoped you could meet our family, get to know them again and the memories would begin to appear on it's own. But it doesn't work, does it."

You shook head. He gave you another sad smile and looking down Rhys started to play with your fingers. Silence filled the room.

"Aury-"

"Don't call me that," you snapped. You were allergic to that name. Whoever that Auriela person was, she was dead. You weren't her.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. I didn't mean to offend you.. It's just.. habit.. kind of comfort. I didn't hope that I would ever see you again or talk to you. But I wished every day you were here with me. I wished you were alive. You and our mother." Tears filled his eyes and he blinked to get rid of them. You didn't react.

High Lord cleared his throat. "I.. Let's talk openly. About everything." He swallowed hard. "I'm trying to understand how you feel, what's going on with you, how you lived all this time.. and I'm terribly failing. Please. I want to understand. Whoever you are now, I'm accepting it. I don't want to change you. I just want my sister back. The closeness we had." He watched you with desperate expression.

You frowned, confused. No matter how many times he reminded you that he was your family, for you they were only words. It'd never occurred to you to try to see it from his point of view. Apparently you weren't the only one to suffer in this situation. Thinking that maybe he deserved to get a chance, that you should give him a chance to get closer, you nodded.

His eyes widened for a moment, then he blinked rapidly and ran fingers through his dark hair. "Okay." He cleared his throat again.

"To be honest I thought you wouldn't accept my offer," he muttered, visibly taken aback by your willingness to discuss things with him openly. "I haven't thought the things over-.. Where to start?"

"How about you tell me what's that powder you add to my drink?" You frowned at him, expecting him to deny it.

"Oh, that," he gave you a small smile, squeezing your hands. "We noticed you are still in pain. Azriel said you seem to have headache constantly. He also suffers from it, so no wonder he noticed the subtle signs. And I quite often saw you wincing while moving around," he explained, noting the disbelief on your face. Then he added quietly. "I'm really sorry for what happened when we arrived. It's all my fault."

You were speechless. It was hard to believe it, but all about the headache and the muscle pain was true. It also made you realise how much they paid you attention even if they weren't looking directly at you. "Thank you," you murmured.

Silence stretched.

Rhysand watched you, pondering. "Would you tell me why.. what causes.." his head tilted in the bathroom door's direction.

Did he have to take out that topic again? You inhaled deeply, preparing for the worst kind of conversation. You wished for Tamlin to be with you. He'd never asked these things. He was very observant and intuitive. He noticed your fear of magic and never asked you why or what caused it. Not that you could explain any of that. He silently accepted that part of you and avoided using powers around you. With him, it was so easy. Everything was easy and full of happiness. You blinked quickly to get rid of such thoughts.

"It's because of magic.." you said, taking your hands from Rhysand's and instead you wrapped them around your chest protectively. "I don't like it. It makes me feel sick. Always did. This city, this house, you all stink with magic.."

Rhysand froze on the spot, he seemingly forgot to even breathe. "I had no idea," he whispered. His scent shifted, the air in your room changed, too. The smell of power disappeared, only the subtle citrus scent remained. After weeks you could finally breathe freely and relax a bit. It felt so good that closing your eyes you smiled. Rhysand's eyes tracked that movement. "Is it better now?"

"Much better. Thank you."

"What happened? You used to have no problems with magic before, even used it yourself."

"I don't know," you answered honestly. Walls around your heart cracked a bit, letting him in. "I don't remember what or who I was before. I don't remember any of you."

This time he only nodded, probably expecting it.

He asked you to be honest, so you were. You almost regretted what you were about to tell him. "All this time it feels as if you were telling me about a life of someone else. I couldn't be more different from the person you knew."

Lowering his gaze Rhysand stood up and strolled to the window. Leaning against its frame he looked out to the garden, his back turned to you. You didn't know what he felt at that moment, but you were torn. He was still stranger to you, yet you didn't want to hurt him. After all you weren't a cruel being and maybe, just maybe, you began to feel a certain kind of affection for him that you didn't want to admit.

"So you really don't remember what happened that night," he asked, snapping you out of thoughts.

"That night?"

"The night our mother died. The night you supposedly died, too."

"I-.." Images of streams of blood staining the ground, running down your arms that you saw in your nightmares, popped out. Pressing fingers to your temple you shook your head to push them away. Rhysand watched you out of the corner of his eyes over the shoulder. "I'm not sure."

"Dear sister," he sighed, his voice suddenly cold and distanced. "Do you know what my powers are? What daemati can do?"

You'd never heard about daemati, but the feeling that you should know that, remained and was strong. It sounded like something you should be afraid of. "No, I don't."

"I can look into your pretty head, see any memory I want, change them if I wish so. I can also crush the minds, but that's not what I'm offering you here. I could try to revive your memories. I could take away the fear that some of them make you feel." He slowly turned to you, watching you with wariness. "Would you like me to try that? Do you want to remember your past life?"

You stiffened, cold shiver running down your spine, breath catching in your throat. Could he do that? And more importantly did you want him to do it? You needed time to consider his offer. It wasn't an easy decision.

"It's up to you. You have as much time as you need." And with these words he left, leaving you alone with your confused mind.

Taglist:

@impossibelle @sevikas-whore @b0xerdancer @ladylizzieofdarbyshire @tele86 @mybestfriendmademe @nocasdatsgay

#english isnt my first language #acotar #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #tamlin acotar #tamlin x reader #tamlin #pro tamlin #tamlin fanfiction #tamlin week #rhysand fanart #rhysand acotar #rhysand

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kissofthemis · 2 years ago

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Hello, hello! May i ask a headcanon someone tries to flirt/harrass the nxx boys and the reader comes to save them! We love a badass reader ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ

Reader to the rescue! (*≧∇≦)��

"Wow, you're a doctor?"

Immediately you felt your stomach sink as you heard the tone in which this stranger cooed at Vyn. While out and about, neither of you had expected to run into one of Vyn's patients, who politely had referred to him as "Doctor Richter."

Sometimes you forgot how shameless other people could be, until presented with situations like this one.

"Indeed," Vyn replied curtly but politely. "But I'm afraid I'm not taking new patients."

That should have been the end of the conversation. Vyn, in his eerily calm but always courteous manner, had made his point clear.

Sometimes you forgot how shameless other people could be when they refused to take a hint.

"Oh, but doctor...!" The overly exaggerated whine grated against your ears. "I've got this odd spot, you see, and I'm worried," she whimpered, following after him. "Could you take a peek... down there... for m--"

You stepped up to block her path, arms stretched wide to make sure she wouldn't sneak past you. "My supervisor is busy," you told her flatly, barely able to swallow the venom in your tone. "If it's that concerning, surely I could take a look?"

She didn't reply, just stormed off with a huff and muttering choice words under her breath. With a sigh, you turned around to follow after Vyn, only to find that he had snuck back to your side when you were distracted.

"Supervisor?" he murmured, with a small smirk creeping onto his lips. Leaning over to whisper directly in your ear, he breathed, "Don't tell me, you want to be my assistant?"

"..." You swallowed hard as you fought to regain your breath, flustered at his proximity and his teasing. "Please don't hire me unless you want us to be sued for medical malpractice."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"Too much of a big shot to say hello? Didn't know Mr. CEO would turn out to be such a stuck-up prick."

Your eyes flickered nervously between Marius and the young man who was heckling him. His finely combed hair and well-tailored clothing revealed his wealthy status, but the harsh words coming from his mouth were hardly better than what one might hear in a middle school locker room.

"Marius, do you know him?" you whispered, trying to keep up with the CEO's long strides as he walked away wordlessly.

"Not really," he mumbled with a shrug. "Might have gone to high school with him, or something. He looks like a brat that would come out of that school, anyway."

A tug pulled at your heartstrings. You knew Marius was trying to act nonchalant so as not to feed the beast behind him, but you also knew that his teen years were a sensitive subject. He'd gone abroad for his studies, claiming it was solely to help further his career in art, but...

You knew he had been painfully lonely his first year of high school, in an overly sterile environment of rich heirs and dirty money that refused to befriend the youngest von Hagen.

"Awfully cocky for a guy who was second choice for his position," the former classmate continued. "I feel sorry for that brother of yours. Of course, assuming you didn't--"

Marius stiffened at your side.

Nobody brought Giann into their taunts.

Nobody.

Before Marius could say a word in his or his brother's defense, however, you stormed up to the rich brat with a fire in your eyes. "Excuse me, but if you want to keep flapping your jaw, you'd better start saying something intelligent," you snapped. "Mr. von Hagen is a very busy man, and he has a tight schedule. Time is money, and his time is very expensive." You lifted your chin and squared your shoulders, trying to make yourself look larger and more professional. "Do you know what his hourly rate is?"

The number made the young man's face drain of color.

"Now then, if you--or rather, if your daddy's wallet--can afford to schedule an hour with Mr. von Hagen, give us a call. If not, perhaps read a book or two. What a shame that you have such a big head, only full of hot air."

With that, you spun on your heel and stalked off after Marius, who had paused up ahead to wait for you.

"I'm so sorry!" you whispered as soon as the heckler was out of earshot. "I couldn't stand by and let him be such a jerk!"

"Don't apologize," Marius insisted. "Actually, it was a bit..." His voice trailed off, and instead of finishing his sentence, he checked his watch with a cough. "We're late."

"Marius, is your nose bleeding?"

"Now's not the time, Y/N!"

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"Don't you look all stiff? C'mon, let's have a bit of fun."

In hindsight, you should have told Artem that the dress code for "dinner and a movie" was casual. Laid-back. Just two friends having a relaxing evening.

In your defense, however, most people wouldn't interpret "dinner and a movie" to mean "arrive in a suit and tie."

Even after coaxing Artem to take the suit jacket off, he still looked out of place in his dress shirt and slacks. The restaurant was nice enough where you weren't too concerned, and nobody could see the two of you in the dark theater, but as you walked along the city streets to find a bite of dessert....

Well, you'd attracted some unwanted attention.

"I have plans." Artem's reply was curt.

"Aww, this cutie here? C'mon, of course you're invited!" You instinctively covered your face as the reek of some sort of alcohol assaulted your senses. Wine? Vodka? Tequila? You didn't know or care. It was overpowering.

"We are not interested." Artem's tone was harsher, more insistent this time. He couldn't have been any clearer that he wanted nothing to do with this situation. "Let's hurry, now. Before the shops close."

"Aww, isn't that collar of yours so tight and hot? I can loosen you up real good, and my hours go all night lo-"

"Can't you catch a hint?" You smacked away the hand that was reaching for Artem's bicep. "He's being polite because he's considerate of your feelings, but I'm not! Go find someone else before I hook you up with Chief Darius for the night!"

That seemed to be enough to finally give you and Artem space to leave. Still fuming, you gritted your teeth as you walked a step behind Artem, eyes flicking wildly around the streets.

"I think you can relax now," Artem told you after a couple minutes. "Just one drunkard. It's still too early for most people to be in that bad of shape."

You sighed and unclenched your jaw. "I'm sorry. It's my fault for suggesting a place so close to North Stellis."

"No need to be sorry," Artem assured you, and the warmth in his voice helped you relax. "I rather like it out here. You can see the stars more clearly than you can downtown."

You turned your eyes up to the night sky, and a soft gasp left your lips as you took in the spectacle of stars and moonlight above you. "You really can! It's beautiful!"

"Yes," Artem murmured in agreement. While looking at the sky, you couldn't quite see his deep blue eyes gazing in your direction. "A captivating sight indeed."

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

"Are you some kind of con artist? You're the worst!"

The shrill shriek from the lobby startled you so much that you almost dropped the box of bits and pieces you were carrying.

"You can take it to an appraiser for a second opinion, but I--"

"No way! Pay to have some buddy of yours lie to me, too? You're scum!"

Luke had mentioned that he'd been swarmed with customers lately, both those looking for repairs and those browsing for antiques to purchase. You had offered to lend a hand to take some of that burden off. At first, he had hesitated, but when you mentioned you wanted to hang out with him more...

His mood turned 180 degrees, and he invited you to help him organize materials and keep him company this weekend.

Initially you had thought Luke was just too proud to admit he needed help. But now, you couldn't help but wonder, "How many visitors throw fits like this woman?"

"Is everything okay over here?" you asked at last, setting the box down next to Luke's desk.

The brunet cast you a look that screamed at you to step back. But if someone was causing a ruckus, you didn't want to leave Luke to handle it alone. You had offered to help out, and you were going to stay true to your word!

"Do you work here?" The woman whipped her head around to glare at you, a harsh look full of malice and frustration. However, you sensed something else in there too: anxiety. "Are you here to call my boyfriend a liar, too?"

"I didn't say he was a liar," Luke clarified, interjecting before you could respond. "I just said--"

"You said this was a fake!" she snarled, turning her anger back onto Luke. "My boyfriend said he searched high and low to find me an authentic, vintage music box! You're spitting in the face of our love! Who do you think you are?!"

"I've been collecting and repairing antiques for quite some time--"

"As if!" she scoffed. "You're like what, 25 at most? 'Quite some time' my ass!"

Clearly, she did not want to listen to a word Luke had to say. She had already decided he was a scammer and an anti-romantic. Judging from Luke's expression, his patience was also wearing thin.

"Excuse me, miss? May I say something?"

She stomped her foot as she spun to face you, and for a moment you thought she was going to bite your head off to make a point to Luke. Luckily, your head was still on your shoulders for now, so you figured you would try to get as far as you could before one of those two snapped. "This man here is also a professional detective. He has a great eye for detail. I'm sure he has a reason for saying this box is not authentic." You saw her nose twitch, and you braced yourself for her to start spewing flames again. "Luke, why don't you point out which specific details are not 100% accurate to an authentic antique? Here, I'll bring over an extra magnifying glass."

Slowly but surely, Luke was able to point out a couple of minute differences that were hard to discern for an untrained eye. "While it's a beautiful replica, it's not a true, authentic piece," he declared finally. "Replacement parts will be easier to find for this model, as it's more modern, but... I think your boyfriend just got unlucky."

"So the seller... was the liar...." Her demeanor had changed entirely from when you first found her. She seemed dejected and remorseful, but also a little... relieved. "I thought it was off, you know. The coloring... Anyway, I kind of hoped you'd tell me I was wrong. I'm glad you were honest." She chuckled and shook her head. "I'll talk to him about it. We'll figure something out. Thank you, Mr. Luke, and sorry I called you a scumbag."

Once the door closed behind her, Luke drummed his fingers against his desk and called your name. "You didn't have to do that. I could have handled it."

"You looked like you were about to hit her."

"I would never hit a woman."

"Sorry. You looked like you were about to dislocate her arm."

He sighed. "I'm annoyed... but I'm grateful." He cast you a beaming grin, his sharp canines glinting in the half-light of the sunset. "Now help me clean off one more shelf, and then it's pizza on me!"

#tears of themis #tears of themis x reader #tot #tot x reader #vyn richter #artem wing #luke pearce #marius von hagen #gn!reader #I wanted to do an even split of flirters and fighters but then realized that nobody in their right mind would fight Luke LOL #thanks for the ask!#anon

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horseshoegirl · 11 months ago

Text

Set Me Alight - Part 6: Running Up That Hill

📜The angst... continued... Though I loved hearing all your thoughts about who you guys disliked the most in the last chapter. I'd love to know what you think after this chapter. I've been warned this one is a bit... OUCHIE?!

❗️+18, Minors DNI, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character (s), Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, Verbal fights (some mean stuff is said here; there might be some gaslighting), so bullying, wildlife encounters, shitty family dynamics, and angst.

#7k

Part 5 | Masterlist | Part 7

Everyone scattered in the aftermath.

Even Jessica and Veronica were nowhere to be found as you made your escape. You hardly blamed them for it. If you had been in their shoes, witnessing that shit show, you would have shuttered hard from the waves of secondhand embarrassment rolling off all the tension.

But you couldn't feel secondhand embarrassment from it; you were the embarrassment. And all because of the same reason that got you to this point in your life.

Jake Seresin just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut.

You're slightly optimistic about where the group could have gone, even with how hurt you felt. You hoped no one had heard or seen any of it, and they already had gone off to do their own thing. Probably the more likely choice, they did and wanted to avoid the fallout altogether, just like certain people had been all along.

Then a third miserable thought entered your mind - they were all pissed with you, maybe even with Jake, and wanted you gone. You could hardly blame them for that, either. Maybe deep down, you wanted to leave too.

It's how you found yourself following the rocky path, perhaps even dangerous if one wasn't paying attention, up to the top of the waterfall instead. The trail was open for use, though, from appearance alone, it looked like only some people came up here looking for another photo opportunity for someone with a camera below.

Climbing up the slope, rather than glancing below to the water, you turned your head towards the river, winding through a stretch of forest. If you weren't so upset, you might have stopped to wonder if this was the scenery authors envisioned when writing fantasy books. This stretch of woods ranged along the top of this mountainside terrain, and perhaps if you ventured far enough, somewhere you'd find yourself standing on the edge of the world.

You followed the river bank instead, even if you could call it that, your eyes so intently focused on the rushing water you had nothing but your thoughts to keep you company.

Cora's face flashes through your mind first. A shameful, disappointed look after asking if you had set up any more pranks. You had no intention to fuck up what was supposed to be a happy memory for Nat, but Cora could have put two and two together and assumed you were taking it another step too far.

Grace and Bob? Even Mickey? Pity. You didn't need to think about them further; the guilt from their expressions alone would drive you right into the dirt.

Rueben and Javy, you couldn't say, but Jessica and Veronica, you pushed from your mind, even if they tried to claim a few of your brain cells. They'd be so laced in pure, self-centred bias that you'd even go so far as to classify any remark they might make in the style and prose of Regina George's Burn Book - Masters of passive aggressiveness but perfect at playing the victim when the situation turned against them, as demonstrated the night you injured your hand.

Even if they had no part in what unfolded, any defensive remark would only be met with another, perhaps twisted, sentence intended to put you down.

You might have laughed at the fact had you not felt like crying instead.

It was a few minutes before you found the fork in the river, and there was a solitary rock big enough and flat enough to sit upon. You went to it without haste, letting your feet guide you by their own accord. Being mindful of your hand as you hoisted yourself up and settled onto the smooth surface, you drew your knees up to your chest rather than let your legs hang over the side. You didn't even bother removing your backpack; the weight pulling against your back was a comfort and a burden.

Weakly wrapping your arms around your legs, you let your cheek rest on your kneecaps. What comfort your arms could give was meagre and weak, and even as you stared at a riffle in the water, the gentle trickle or the momentary peace did nothing to help you.

While there was a part of you wishing Jake had decided to leave altogether, to hike back to the entrance of the park, never to show his ugly no, good, untimely, "if not now, when" ass again, you know there was no point. It wouldn't fix what had happened, and it wouldn't make Nat feel any better either.

To say this wasn't the first time you found yourself in the middle of a fight would be an understatement. As friends usually do, you and Nat had your fair share of them over the years, though they always ended up with the two of you making up.

Always because someone caved - that someone being you - maybe that's one of the reasons why you wanted to seek her out.

But you knew your presence wouldn't be welcomed. No matter your explanation, she wouldn't want to hear it, shoving it off and turning you away, especially after the first-row seat to her rage.

Her words hurt you, but you still knew you owed it to her to apologize.

For letting your temper get the better of you, yelling at Jake? Yes.

For the aftermath of it ruining her proposal? Also, yes.

You would sooner run after her for that apology alone had not Bradley gone after her - rightly so. That was something you couldn't interrupt or insert yourself into, especially after a clusterfuck such as that.

The 'thing' building in the pit of your stomach against the white, nauseating feeling of guilt also made you rethink your decision to seek her out. A feeling that only arose from you replaying Nat's rage-filled words repeatedly in your head.

Jake could be right. It's looking like he had always been right.

You don't understand why now, of all times, you'd entertain the possibility of accepting Jake's words. It is something you want to remain a mystery, shoved deep down into the forgotten places of your mind.

It's an impossible feat.

Nat's rage, so hot and what you'd classify as spiteful, blew the doors open so wide there was no amount of pressure you could shove at the idea to make it disappear. You buried your face into your knees, eye sockets aching under the force, driving lights and shapes to appear behind your lids.

What if? What if I said this? What if I did this? What if I just walked away?

But something else shot forward in your mind, something you'd never thought you'd entertain.

What if I did confront Nat? Confront her for the lack of support throughout the entire trip. Not just in the heat of the moment, but truly laid bare that she purposely brought me on this trip without telling me Jake would be here too.

If you told her how you felt, how she had made you feel, would that have made a difference, too?

You think not. Even if you had a part to play in your feelings of isolation, there would have been a reason, an explanation, a word vomit of her hurt feelings without care for yours. You had never truly voiced your feelings before, always burying them under wit and sarcasm.

There was no chance you would now.

Ironic, isn't it? All that snark you've mustered up for Jake, for the two twins incarnate, and you still couldn't bring yourself to stand up for yourself and set a boundary with your 'friend.'

You supposed that's how it's always been, too.

Growing up in the shadow of expectations, your voice often ended up unheard. A middle child sandwiched between an older brother who followed in your father's footsteps and a younger sister brimming with self-selected compassion – and two parents in high-achieving roles.

In the rare instance that all five of you could actually sit down and have a family dinner together, conversations only seemed to revolve around that fact. They were limited to surgical techniques, case studies, medical research projects, and overseas missions.

Your father always sat at the same end of the dining room table. Dr. Xiaver Spencer, the authoritative head neurosurgeon, would often glance over the rim of his glasses, nodding approvingly at your brother's, Dr. Alex Spencer, recounts of complex brain surgeries. Your mother always claimed her spot at the other end. Dr. Heather Spencer, the CEO of a prestigious teaching and research-based hospital, would meticulously plan her next board meeting in between bites.

With your brother between them on one side, Ella, your younger sister, would occupy the other. She often regaled the family with tales of distant lands and communities, places she had adventures to as a volunteer with UNICEF. If she wasn't home, she was overseas, helping build homes, handing out supplies, assisting medics, or studying.

Only 16, and she was off seeing the world, her pure joy of helping those in need making your paintings and designs at the local animal shelter quaint in comparison.

That left you and your seat at the table, never fixed or permanent, wedging between your brother, sister, mother and father in a different spot every time.

They made you feel quaint, too. Any attempt to share or talk about art, your art, or even the opportunities coming your way was always met with a "That's nice, dear" or "It's good to have hobbies."

Alex would laugh. Ella would remain silent. And nobody took you seriously enough when you started discussing it as an actual career.

Because the path you had chosen for yourself was less valuable than the stringent standards surrounding your family and what it meant to be a Spencer. Because pursuing a Fine Arts or even an Arts Illustration Degree was abhorrent when you could be working to save lives instead.

You might have taken to talking back and standing up for yourself in the early days. Each remark or attempt was followed with one of their own, so cutthroat it would have you sinking into the polished and unmarked leather of one of your mother's overly expensive dining room chairs. You would poke at the designer dish with the fancy silver fork through your tears, waiting till everyone else finished before taking off to your room and calling Aunt Viv.

Each time you did, the urge diminished, and soon, you didn't say anything unless you were spoken to. However, that was a rare instance indeed.

Why give your opinion? Why voice your thoughts when they weren't really warranted?

Correction - Wanted.

Aunt Viv, though. She... cared. Pure, unwavering support, no matter what you said, did or would think to do. She pushed you towards what you loved and stood by you like a rock when cash was tight, and scholarships weren't cutting it. She was unafraid to throw your name around in conversations. Not your full name, but "My niece Maeve does this," or "My niece is such a talented artist."

Who knew growing apples could have such a sway? You weren't sure where you'd be now if it weren't for her.

You knew you couldn't stay here on this rock forever. But you didn't know what else to do. Walk back with your head held high? Give Cora, Grace, or even Bob the compass and the map, and let them take over for the rest of the day? Hang out in the back of the group where you belonged, not saying a word to anyone else?

You could always leave.

The thought was tempting - walk away from it all. From Nat, from Jake, from the situation. You're surprised you didn't attempt to do it before. But leaving now felt like admitting defeat, and despite everything, you weren't ready to give up. Not yet.

Four-plus years, and it would have been a waste for nothing if you did. Cause if you walked away now, you'd never come back.

As you slowly slid from the rock, you decided on a plan. You'd walk back, find Nat to apologize, and attempt to mend whatever was left of the week. You and Nat had purposely planned more than one stop on this trip where Bradley could propose; he still could if things calmed down.

You followed the river back down the way you came, trying to figure out what to say, what to do, that would make the apology meaningful.

You would have to do it sooner than you thought. Cause the second you lifted your head at the sound of stones clacking hard against one another, Nat was striding towards you, completely lost in her thoughts.

Your initial thought would have been she was seeking you out had it not been for the devastated look on her face.

It left you frozen, unwilling to take a step further. You had geared yourself up to swallow your hurt to apologize for a mess that hadn't been entirely yours, but standing here and now in front of her, you knew.

It wouldn't matter what you said.

It's not a disappointment you see it reflected in her face. It's not love for a friend either or even dislike either. That would be giving her too much credit, and even after feeling sorry for what happened, acknowledging you owed her an apology, and burying that hurt aside, failed proposal or not, it comes rushing back inside.

Even then, you still caved first.

"What can I say or do to make up for what just happened?" you manage to plead.

She scoffs in the face of your honest ask. "You really don't know?"

You shake your head hard. "No. No, I don't. Not for this. All I can do is ask and offer whatever apology I can that would truly make it up to you."

Nothing on Earth could have prepared you for something like this.

Her hand flew up, preventing you from saying another word. “Just save it,” she spat. “I don’t want to hear it, Maeve. Not now. Maybe not ever.”

You gasped, and Nat's gaze hardened further, if possible.

"You think you're the only one hurt by all this?" Her voice raised, bitter and cold. "You think you're the only one with feelings? God, Midge, you can be so self-absorbed sometimes. It's always about you, isn't it?"

Your mouth dropped open like a fish. "You really think I wanted this," you emphasize by spreading your arms out wide, "To happen? Do you think I purposely wanted to fuck up your proposal just to get back at Jake? Come on, Nat!"

"Honestly?" she cries out. "I don't know!"

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "Wow. Okay then."

"You've been so caught up in your own drama with hating Jake that you didn't even see what was happening right in front of you. How all of it has been affecting everyone else in the group?"

You don't mean for your anger to get the best of you or for it to be directed at Nat, but her remarks are so spiteful that you can't help the shrill laugh crawling up your throat.

"And you did? Like you haven't been the picture of understanding and support. You had to have seen the way Jessica and Veronica have been treating me. Where were you then?!"

Nat eyes you up and down like she's just caught you in a lie. "Funny you say that, 'cause they told me the same thing," she insinuates. "How you've been less than welcoming. How you can't let things go. How you can't take a joke...."

Your jaw tightened, and the fact she was buying into their words and their stories without questioning it further stung harder than you wanted to believe.

"So their behaviour is justified because I was standing up for myself? For things you never saw from the sound of it!?"

And what does she do but shrug? The action is so dismissive it only fuels your frustration further. "You're not exactly innocent in all of this."

You know it's not those two she's referring to.

"What, Jake?" you mock. "You never told me Jake was coming on this trip. You've always known how I've felt about him, how it's always been between us, and you said nothing!"

"Because I thought you could handle it for one fucking week!"

"I leave a room the second I realize he's in it. I purposely go out of my way to avoid him. That's me fucking handling it! I avoid him at all costs because I can't stand to be in the same space as him without feeling like I will lose my mind. And you thought throwing us together was a good idea?!"

Nat didn't say anything, prompting you to continue. "A good friend tells her friend if the guy she hates is going on a week-long trip with them. A good friend acknowledges the hurt this person has caused..."

"A good friend explains why she dislikes a guy so much! She explains she lets them know...." Nat interrupts you, though you interrupt her right back.

"He's your fucking friend! I won't be the one to drive a wedge into a friend group that existed long before I ever came around!"

As if I could.

Nat's response was a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You just gave up! You just gave him the cold shoulder, and the next, you two were at each other's throats."

"And what?" you cried out. "You just believed what Jessica and Veronica said about me? Without even asking my side? You know how they can be, Nat! you know!"

Her eyes narrowed, and she moved closer, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. ”If you ever faced your problems instead of sprinting in the opposite direction, we wouldn't be in this mess. It's no wonder everything's falling apart around you."

Her words held you in a chokehold, a sharp intake of breath your only defence against the burning sting in your lungs. You remain silent, hurt flashing across your face as your eyes blur with unshed tears.

"Wow," you finally manage, voice croaking. "Kick me while I'm down. I'm sorry your proposal was ruined, Nat; I am. But that doesn't give you permission to be cruel."

She turns her head away from you to stare at the water. You press on further.

"Let's talk about this," you hold your arm up. "Or the fact I was the one hiding behind the bush first, not him. With my phone, trying to get photographs for you. Jake was the one who approached me. Who decided that was the best moment of all other times to start fucking with me. I might have pranked him earlier, but I wasn't about to do it during a moment such as that. I was the one telling him to back the fuck off. "

Your eyes were welling up with tears, but you fought them back, refusing to let her see just how much she'd wounded you.

"Or let's talk about how Veronica gave me a snide remark about my art, and I stood up for myself, only to have her knock my brushes to the side. Or how they cornered Jake into pulling a prank that resulted in this?" you hold up your arm.

She turns to you, her eyes harsh. "Like how you pranked Veronica?"

You rolled your eyes. "It was meant for the Asshole, but you know what, I'm happy she got a little bit of Karma after everything you just admitted."

Nat's face twisted, a mix of anger and something else you couldn't quite place. "You know what, Maeve? Maybe you're right. Maybe this whole thing was a mistake. You and Jake, this trip, everything!"

"And you think blaming me is going to make it better?"

Nat opened her mouth to retort but then closed it, pressing her lips into a thin line. The anger seemed to drain from her face momentarily, replaced by a weary resignation.

"Maybe I never should have invited you instead."

You bit your bottom lip, nodding more to yourself than to her. A sad noise crept up your throat, a laugh, though it was one more of resignation, maybe even ironic amusement. The thought comes rushing forward to sweep you off your feet like the first time you heard it.

Because Jake was right, after all.

Standing there wounded and silent, in the hardness of Nat's eyes, you conclude that perhaps you were never really a friend in the first place.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe you never should have. At least then, I wouldn't have spent years thinking we were actually friends after all."

Shaking your head, you turned away from her, the weight of everything pressing down on you. With each step you took, the sound of the river beside you grew louder, its rushing waters seeming to beckon you forward. The thought that if you could allow yourself to be swept away, to tumble over the waterfall at its end, flashed through your mind. That would be enough to wash away the pain.

Nat sighed loudly from behind you and then called out after you, "Midge, stop!"

The fact she called you Midge, not Maeve, made your resolve burn brighter.

You twisted, continuing to walk backwards. You dramatically threw your hands out to the side as you sarcastically called out through your tears, "Why should I? I only think about myself, right? Make everything about me? Why quit now when I'm only following in the example you've so clearly set?"

You sniffed a breath, and then the remark slipped past your lips, the defence mechanism you've used in all other circumstances, finally landing a blow on someone you once considered a friend. You purposely stopped, raising your hands to clap against the thick fabric of the bandage on your arm.

"Let's give a round of applause and a standing ovation to the one and only Natasha Trace, the saint who never does anything wrong!" you dropped, bending yourself down into a dramatic bow. "Bravo for putting up with me for so long! What an Oscar-worthy performance, indeed!"

You didn't bother seeing her reaction, purposely straightening yourself to turn back to walk the path ahead. Honestly, you didn't want to see it either.

You simply had enough.

All those years you spent fighting against the words of one jock in your apartment bathroom because you didn't want to lose Nat as a friend - gone in minutes.

Fighting your sobs, you tried to devise some plan, anything beyond your initial decision to leave as you stormed forward. Perhaps some other tourist below would take pity on your situation and let you tag along back to the park entrance. There was a bus station there. You could buy a ticket back into the city and then take the train home.

Either way, your decision to leave had been the obviously correct one. Nat made that so abundantly clear.

You could see the opening to the slope from a distance, and you took a moment to compose yourself. Wiping at the lingering tears on your face, you drew in sharp, equal breaths, hoping the fresh air would calm you down. If you were about to ask a total stranger for help, you couldn't do it looking like this.

You tilted your head back on your shoulders, closing your eyes as you tried to feel the breeze on your face, seeking solace in its cool embrace. You let your hand rest on the nearby tree, trying to feel the sensation of its bark under the palm of your hand. Rolling your head forward, you shook your shoulders, straightening your posture before opening your eyes.

But the path ahead was no longer empty. And you caught sight of the last person you wanted to see, making their way up the hill.

The universe was a fine-flecked bitch, so that it would seem. Because there was Jake, in all his glory, precariously walking up the slope.

Seeing him sends the sensation of sheer ice shooting across your skin. And the hurt that had found a home inside your chest amplifies into an overwhelming urge to run. Run, and never look back. Run and escape.

Run. Run. Run. Run.

But is it from him? Or from his words and the truth in them, haunting, following you from that night? A truth that was proven only a mere few seconds ago.

Panic flutters in your chest at the thought he'd seen you, and you spin rapidly on your heel, hoping you could find another path or maybe even hide until he accomplished whatever he intended to do by coming up here.

But your bag snags on a branch, and you wince as the leaves rustle obnoxiously, knowing that if Jake hadn't seen you standing there before, he certainly would now.

Jake lifted his head at the sudden noise, only to see a quick flash of bright blue. Your sleeping bag curled on top of your backpack disappeared behind the thick trunk of a tree.

"Midge, wait!"

Like hell, I'd wait for you.

His voice spurs you on, taking off into the thick underbrush. Jake is undeterred in the slightest, taking off after you. He wasn't far behind, having extended his pace to get to you quicker once he was up the side of the hill. You were at a disadvantage; your short legs were no match for his long ones, and your heavy bag only weighed you down.

Your only hope would be to lose him in the bush, counting on his height, build, and weight even, to slow him down and watch where he was going. You were small, yes, but you could get through the gaps or the trees better than he ever could.

But Jake was uncaring if thorns were ripping at his jeans or if branches were smacking him in the face. He was so fucking stubborn, and his drive was absolute. If not to get you to talk, then not to let you disappear into the woods alone.

"Midge, stop running! I'm not going to hurt you!"

His voice came from everywhere and anywhere, seemingly bouncing off trees and down the paths they grew, a haunting echo that unleashed a fresh wave of tears. As you rounded the corner of a tree, you came across an intriguing root system twisting along the ground when your vision blurred.

You cried out when you tripped over a root. You caught yourself and, without stopping, lifted your arm so the bandage might catch the tears rushing down your face, feet continuing to step in the spaces between the roots blindly.

You did. You have been. And you probably still will.

The thought, bitter and resigned, fueled your steps farther and farther. The underbrush grabbed at your legs like hands pulling you down. Burs stuck to the fabric of your leggings and pricked at your skin. Branches whipped at your face and arms, leaving thin lines of red in their wake. But the thought of losing Jake, getting out of this park and never seeing him again urged you on.

But when you finally burst through the underbrush, expecting to find a trail, a slope down, or even a trail marker to tell you where to go, you were met with nothing of the sort. It was a dead end, a sheer cliff drop that had you skidding to a jarring halt against stone ground. Gravel slid beneath your feet, and your arms flailed wildly as you desperately tried to save your balance.

Your heart must have stopped briefly as you were forced to look down, confronting the edge of this unexpected cliff and the daunting drop below. While not lethal, a fall like this would only lead to injury, one you wouldn't tempt fate for.

A cold wave of realization washed over you as you finally regained your balance and looked around. The ledge you found yourself on was a narrow outcropping that offered no path forward, only a steep fall or retreat back through the bush toward Jake.

You were utterly, utterly trapped.

Twigs snapped under Jake's boot as he stepped out from behind the bush. His breath was laboured, audible harsh pants that had you reaching up to cup your hands over your ears before sliding them forward to cover your eyes.

I can't do this now. I can't do this now.

"Why do you always run from me?"

You couldn't think. Nothing was coming forth to save you now. No witty retort or clever line. No semblance of that resolve that rushed through your veins before. You were literally incapable of rescuing or being enough to save yourself from what was about to unfold.

So, your anger rose up to greet you like a long-lost friend instead.

"You don't get to ask me that! Why do you even care?" The words erupted from you louder and more forceful than you'd care to admit, letting your hands fall from your face to smack against the side of your thighs. "What the fuck more could you possibly want from me, Jake?! What... what was the point of you chasing me? To corner me? To say more about me or remind me how much of a fuck up I really am? To drive the wedge, the fucking knife, deeper?"

Even as you yelled, you still couldn't face him.

"Everyone in this fucking camp hates me! In general. Do you think I don’t know what people say? How they look at me? And you… you’re no different. You’ve made your thoughts about me crystal clear from the second I met you."

You stomped forward, pointing your finger into his chest. "We made a fucking deal not to ruin their week for them. We agreed. But you just had to cause shit. You just had to bang that pot; you just had to put away the coffee; you just had to think of the worst fucking shortcut; you just had to scream, bear. You just had to hurt me!"

You were panting hard, thumping your finger into his chest.

"I told you. You throw that shit at me. I'll throw that shit back. So thank you for that, because if your point in all of that was to end Nat and I's friendship and kick me out of the group, then congratulations. You succeed!"

As he absorbed the full force of your words, the pure hurt pouring out of you, he seemed to deflate right before your eyes. For a moment, he stood there, his features softening and his usual cocky confidence nowhere in sight. Some might have even called it a genuine look of distress and confusion.

Jake's voice was barely above a whisper when his shoulders slumped, and he asked defeatedly, "Why do you hate me so much, Midge? What did I do?"

In his honest green eyes, you could see the plea for an answer, any answer that might get you to open up to him and simply explain.

But you couldn't.

How could you explain the reason you yelled, shouted, snarked, and downright hated him was because he had been completely right? At the infamous Halloween party, you caught him about to hook up with that girl in your bathroom, uttering about your supposed friendship with Natasha?

How, since that moment, you had been running from him because it was the easier option? Better than giving yourself over to the possible truth - a truth you have seen time and time again. Because allowing yourself to feel hurt over catching him with another girl when he flirted and showed an interest in you for most of the night was better than possibly ruining the one friendship you had.

It shouldn't even matter right now. You already had. And just like that night, Jake had been right the first day by the lake. You did run away from your problems.

Because I don't know how to do anything else.

His question hung in the air, a plea for some understanding, some clue, some indication of how things could have gotten so bad between you.

A gasp tore from your throat instead.

Not because you were outwardly expressing your frustration and struggle in answering him, but for the fact you caught sight of a massive creature emerging from the treeline behind him.

Every emotion you had felt before vanished at the sight and was replaced with only two: panic and fear.

Your arm moved by its own accord, your hand latching onto Jake's sleeve. He tried to tug his arm back, but you wouldn't let him. You were near catatonic, your grip as strong as metal and your face pale as ice as you watched the approaching creature finally notice your presence. With its mouth hung open, the brown monster stood on its haunches to inquire if you were friend, foe, or its next meal.

Jake remained clueless to your reaction, frowning when he reached up to pry your hand away, unaware of the approaching threat. "What the fuck, Midge. Let me go!"

You couldn't. You couldn't let Jake go. You couldn't do anything except stutter out, "baaa baaa... Bear!"

How your legs hadn't given out yet, you had no clue.

"Really? Do you think I'm going to fall for that after what I did to you? No way. Stop changing the damn subject and give me an answer."

You're not sure how you managed it, but you attempted to hit him on his shoulder, nervous energy causing you to let up on the force behind such a move. You hadn't even felt the sting of your bandaged wrist, adrenaline masking any pain you might have felt, even if it was a rather flimsy attempt.

You still hadn't taken your eyes off the brown animal. It was massive, rugged, and looked like it had no protests about which one of you it would eat first. The scar across its back and face was another story altogether, too. Its teeth would have no problem tearing into Jake; you'd merely be a tiny slice of desert. Or the appetizer.

"Midge, stop and talk to me like a fucking adult!"

The fact he still didn't listen to you seemed to wake you out of your stupor.

"Turn the fuck around and look, you idiot!"

You aren't sure if your prompting would have gotten Jake to turn around and look. Because once you finally managed to gather the courage to draw your eyes away from the thing deciding who to go after first, Jake's face was frozen, contemplating if you were telling the truth.

The bear roared, shattering any doubt.

His reaction was instant, eyes flaring and mouth hanging slightly. He spun, shooting out his arm as his hand made contact with your hip, urging you behind him. Your hands scrambled for anything to grab onto as he turned, eventually settling on clutching the strap of Jake's backpack.

If you weren't so scared, you might have wondered why Jake was here, putting himself in harm's way for you. You might have even whipped out a sarcastic, "Yeah, that's right. Eat him first, you wild creature."

But either one of you had anywhere to go. And even if you could manage to distract it, there was no way either of you could outrun it.

"What are we going to do?" you shot out nervously.

"It's a bear, Midge!" Jake rushed out. "Just stay the fuck behind me."

You panicked and snapped back, "I saw it first! I know what a bear looks like!"

It bellowed, making Jake jolt backwards. You let out a cry, burying your face into the back of his massive bag.

The bear safety facts from the class the park rangers made you take before you ventured into the park are conveniently missing from your mind. All except the one you whisper harshly, "They tell you not to run."

Jake's voice cut through the tension. "Well, if we can't run, I guess now's a good time to see who can yell louder?"

"You really want to start a shouting match now?!"

"Were you paying any attention in that safety class? Running. No. Yelling. Yes. Surely, between the two of us, we can manage that!"

"I was doing that before it decided to show up! What makes you think that's not the reason it sought us out, dumbass?"

"Because I refuse to believe my sparkling personality is what attracts bears!"

You laughed sharply as the bear seemed to be weighing its options. You were not sure why it hadn't decided to charge the two of you yet, but you would have bet good money it had to do with the scars littered across its body.

"You called for one the other night, remember? Practically pulled a Dory!"

"Don't hate on a children's Icon, Midge!"

"I'm hating on you for what you did to me! They aren't mutually exclusive things!"

Jake took a careful step forward, testing the waters. You shuffled with him, eager to put space between you and the ledge. The creature tilted its head as if pressing its ear to the ground. Then, without warning, it let out a deep, resonating roar directly at the both of you. You buried your face into Jake's backpack again, trying not to scream.

"That was probably not one of my best ideas."

Your voice was muffled against the fabric. "Want me to make a list?"

Jake's laugh was nervous. "Only if I can make one for you."

The bear, seemingly unimpressed by your banter, shifted its weight, causing Jake and you to tense up again.

"Thinking yelling at a bear would actually work as a deterrent is on it."

"We're supposed to yell at it, not at each other."

"You think it can tell the difference?" you asked him, your voice pitchy. "It doesn't matter who or what we are yelling at."

Jake managed a strained smile. "Common ground. Wow, we're practically bonding over here."

"Because nothing brings people closer like shared trauma," you snap, fear sharpening your words. "I'm tripping you first."

"I'm leaving you behind."

"I'll feed you to the bear myself."

"I run faster, scared than you do, mad."

"Hang on, let me find a stick and shove it up your ass."

Jake's eyebrows shot up. "Now there's the Midge I know."

Peering over Jake's arm, the bear made a sudden, decisive lunge forward with a single paw, claws extended, as if taunting its prey, waiting to see if the two of you would scramble. The move was unexpectedly aggressive, and it sent the two of you scrambling backwards in panic.

Neither of you realized how close to the cliff's edge you actually were. Only when your boots slid again on gravel, and you were brought back to a few moments ago when you nearly fell over yourself.

"Jake! The cliff!" you cried out, desperately trying to push on his backpack. You could feel it, one or maybe two more inches, and you'd be slipping off the edge.

"Hang on to me!"

"What do you think I'm doing?" You shot back, your words laced with adrenaline-fueled irritation and fear. However, you did find your grip miraculously tightening further to anchor yourself to him. But you couldn't with your injured hand, trying desperately to wind it through the straps across the bag instead.

Jake's mind flickered rapidly between the bear and the crackling stone beneath his feet. "Okay, new plan. We let it charge, and we dodge."

"And your an action movie junkie, that's never going to work!" you rushed out.

"What else do we have, Midge?!"

Honestly? Nothing.

Jake widened his stance, almost as if he was sizing up the bear. You mirrored his movement as best you could, though it seemed futile with your smaller stature.

"When I move, you move!" Jake's voice was sharp, a clear command, and if this were any other circumstance, your instinctive retort would have been a defiant, "Don't tell me what to do!"

For this?

Nope. Have at it, Jake. Maybe they'll let me torture you in hell.

It was stupid. Idiotic even. But what else could the two of you do? You were literally boxed in—no way to go.

Then something popped under your foot. And above the frantic beating of your heart, more menacing than the bear's growls, came a sickly sound that made your blood run cold.

An ominous crack.

What followed was worse - a series of smaller yet equally sinister sounds and the feeling of pieces of stone wobbling beneath your feet. You didn't dare look down, for you already knew.

The damn cliff was falling apart.

"Jake!" Your voice was desperate, trying to pierce through his concentration. But he hadn't heard you, solely focused on when this bear would finally decide to leap. Or maybe he did and thought it was you being scared.

You shoved at his back, but he was like a brick wall, and you had nothing to ground yourself with.

You shouldn't have tried to push him, either. The second you tried to apply some force behind another shove, a chunk of stone came loose, allowing the ground beneath your feet to give away.

You dropped with a cry, legs knocking hard into the fragmented pieces of stone, and you found yourself dangling, held aloft solely by the one strap of Jake's backpack. The elastic straps around your wrist had already snapped against your bandage, freeing your arm, and it waved out, reaching for something that had never been there in the first place.

Jake fell backwards at the weight, causing him to step back at an angle. He called out your name and tried to keep his eyes on the bear while trying to reach for you blindly. You were trying to bring your legs up to a section of stone that looked stable enough to not give under pressure so you might be able to grab his hand. But with how heavy your pack was, you couldn't gain enough momentum to swing your leg over, no matter how hard you tried.

Suddenly, his hand gripped the bend of your elbow hard enough that you were sure there would be bruises if either of you managed to get out of this in one piece.

"Let go, Midge! I'll pull you up!"

"The bear!"

"It's still deciding which one of us to eat first!"

"Don't take your eyes off it!"

"What do you think I'm doing? Picking daisies?!"

You weren't sure what was louder—the bear's unsettling clacking or the ominous sounds of stone shifting ominously under Jake's weight. The truth was, you didn't want to find out.

You let go, entrusting your entire weight into Jake's hold, crying out when you dropped a few inches. But whether it was your cry or Jake needing to ensure your safety over his own, he dared to take his eyes off the bear to glance over his shoulder.

That was all it took for everything to happen all at once.

The brief shift in his gaze, the twist of his waist, and the slight lean were enough to unsettle the already compromised ground beneath him. With a heart-sinking crack, the remaining piece of the cliffside he was perched on gave way.

The bear roared, charging forward at the prospect of losing its meal. And Jake lost his balance, using the momentum to twist his body to fully face you, some last-minute attempt to ensure your safety if he could, with a look of a thousand promises he could never make nor keep.

But you didn't see it. You were too busy watching the last crumbling stone disappear from underneath Jake's boots before gravity took over, cruel and unforgiving, as you finally started to fall.

For a breathless moment, you were suspended in the air, Jake's figure falling forward with you, nothing but white overcast clouds behind him. His hand was still gripping your elbow, and his eyes were wide, the realization of what was about to occur striking him hard.

With a final decisive tug born out of desperation, Jake pulled you close as he tumbled over, your face colliding with the solid wall of his chest. His other arm wrapped around your back, around your bag, his body twisting mid-air with you in his grasp, ensuring in the split second before gravity claimed its due, you were on top of him, not beneath.

Then, with a terrifying rush, the two of you fell, the ground rushing up to greet you both. Another roar of the bear above faded into the roar of the wind in your ears. With the pit forming in the pit of your stomach, above the wind, the scream you produced vibrating against Jake's chest was worse.

What happened after that, you couldn't recall.

The world didn't fade but snapped to black.

Had to throw the cliffhanger in there somewhere? 😂😅💛

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Part 7 - My Blood - In-progress

114 notes · View notes

beifong-brainrot · 3 months ago

Note

Suyin wasn't "coerced" to commit a crime, neither did she want to take herself out of the situation. She wanted to get her friends out of paying for their crimes because she's spoiled and entitled.

She didn't "have" to travel the world, she was sent to family members to take her away from a criminal and endangering environment, and she decided to escape because she's too much of a pick me girl to stay with the so called family "that didn't show her affection". To be honest, you speak of her as some kind of adult avatar-styled Rapunzel, instead of a teenager who deserved to be reprimanded.

She did turn her life around, and kudos to the creators for showing that. No one can say that her story and background is boring by any chance.

She, however, is not the most likeable character out there to a big part of the fandom, but I seriously doubt someone is taking it as seriously as you seem to do. Just chill.

Istg this happens almost everytime I post something mildly touching on the fact that Suyin deserves compassion too. Though you may be the same anon who blew up my inbox a while back so it might just be you.

I've always found the disdain we have for "troubled teens" upsetting because usually, when a teenager "acts out", there's more of a reason behind it that just "ooh they're spoilt or entitled".

[Trigger warning for self harm and suicidal ideation mentions]

Like, I was a very difficult teen back in the day. I argued with my parents, even got into physical altercations, skipped school, ran away from home at night. I was also going through a severe depression, dealing with a shitton of childhood trauma, cutting on the regular and making multiple attempts on my life. Hell, if my parents had brushed me off as "a kid who needs to be disciplined" I probably would've killed myself at 14. It doesn't excuse me for punching my dad in the stomach when he was just trying to stop me from running away into the night but it doesn't mean I didn't deserve help.

[End of Trigger Warning]

These two things can be correct at the same time. Suyin can have done a shitty thing that deserves reprimand and that she needs help that she seemingly had to find on her own. But like, guess which of these two is almost exclusively focused on.

And I mean, it's totally not like the Avatar fandom has a habit of expressing extreme hate towards young girls (especially young girls of colour) making sub optimal choices or just beind "annoying". I've just never seen that before.

Suyin grew up with Toph, who Lin herself has described like this:

Suyin : No, no. My children are a blessing. Lin: Yeah, mom used to say that too, but she never meant it.

Which btw, still an incredibly hillarious thing to say in front of Suyin's children: "Hi kids I'm your aunt Lin and your mother is lying about loving you"

While Suyin has, as a child, expressed doubt that Toph would even care that she's skipping school. And as an adult, she has described her childhood with Lin as "competing for their mother's affection" and still has doubts whether or not her mother is happy with how either of them turned out.

Hell, even though Su and Toph have been said to have made up, Toph still maintains a heavy layer of distance between them, seemingly dissappearing for years at a time!

It's honestly sad how Suyin hugs Toph and puts up statues of her everywhere in Zaofu and yet Toph still just fucked off to the swamp when Opal was probably less then ten and did not contact them.

I mean, sounds like there's not a lot of motherly affection going on there, dude. Idk what to tell ya. We know there were no fathers around either.

And Lin was also a victim of this environment, so I don't really want this to come off as me blaming her for the way she acted towards Su. But Lin is hardly what I would call affectionate.

So of course Suyin would put so much stock in her relationships outside the house. And her friends happened to be fucking criminals fucking hell. And of course Lin, being a kid too did not know how to approach this situation properly, so she inadvertently just pushed Suyin closer to them by insulting them and making her feel defensive.

Because that's what all fucking teens do. The internalise things, they rely on their peers to form their perception of things and they want to be independent. So when someone, especially someone who isn't a parent tries to control them, guess how they'll react? They dig their heels in. Especially a teen like Suyin who has virtually no reason to listen to her older sister other than a vague "I know better than you" type of vibe which really pisses teens off. That's like the time when talking down to them is the worst thing to do.

And fuck off with saying getting arrested and screamed at by your sister in the middle of the road isn't a stressful situation that you wolud wanna get out of. Lin punched a car so hard it dented! (Especially that Lin has already been confirmed to use her status as a police officer against people she has a vendetta against, like when SHE TRIED TO THROW PEMA IN JAIL FOR STEALING HER MANS like how tf did we brush over that)

What I always find interesting in this scene is the front that Su puts on in front of Lin, which slips up a few times, particularly when Lin can't see her expression. Because Suyin is, of course being a fucking brat and taunting Lin, but you can clearly see that she's stressed out.

Suyin also describing the reason she helped her friends as a getaway driver is something I find interesting:

Suyin: I didn't steal anything. I just drove the car. I owed my friends a favor. It's not a big deal.

Of course she's scared and minimising her involvement but the usage of "owing her friends" could very easily imply her not exactly being too hyped about this, as well as her insistence on not stealing anything.

Because the thing about Suyin is that, especially in the flashbacks, we see her only in Lin's PoV. We don't see her relationship with her friends, what led up to the robbery, anything. Which makes sense, because the flashbacks are supposed to be Lin's. But that means we're viewing Su with the inherent bias of Lin, who clearly has an agenda against Su.

Lin clearly blames Suyin for Toph leaving policework, despite us later seeing how burnt out and cynical Toph was about being a cop. Its more likely that Su's arrest was a wake-up call for Toph, but she left due to the buildup of stress and disillusionment and Lin, who has been idolising her mother and her mother's career blamed it on Suyin in her head.

Hell, even they made up, Lin still immediately pivots to accusing Suyin of being involved in the Red Lotus' attack. Despite the attack placing Suyin's life, the lives of her sons and the lives of her guards at risk and Suyin going out of her way to thwart it.

And Suyin's life is just a fucking mess after this point like: betrayal by close friend, daughter kidnapped by terrorists, anarchy in the kingdom, leaders of 2 foreign governments trying to pressure her into subjugating the people in the name of a monarch she doesn't support, betrayal part 2; child boogaloo, the country she lives in being declared a dictatorship, city under literal siege, threat of attack in 24 hours, the fucking Avatar doing fuck all to help, a desperate attempt at assassinating the leader, getting caught and placed in questionably humane restraints, having to watch her daughter be forced to flee, PUBKIC HUMILIATION, the arrest of her non combative son and husbandd, INHUMANE JAIL CELL...

Do I need to go on? Like the moment the Krew came to her gouse her life just started to fucking fall apart its actually kinda hillarious.

And calling Suyin a "pick me" is just... unfounded? Who's she trying to get picked by? Her mom who doesn't love her? Girlie just wanted a family she literally said so in the show, put your listening ears on, babes.

I understand that Suyin isn't the most likeable character to people. I can understand why they dislike her. She can be annoying, hypocritical, rash, the poor structuring of the episodes around her and Lin makes it so she gets unearned favour from the writers etc. People who like Lin and Kuvira, two extremely popular characters in the fandom have an easy villain in their faves' lives if they just tweak Suyin a bit.

But that doesn't mean I'm obligated to dislike her too or that I'm not allowed to post about her in a way that doesn't allign with the fandom's narrative of her. You're not obligated to read it, hun, you can block the #pro suyin beifong tag if it makes you that upset to see me

I want to appreciate parts of Suyin which aren't highlighted by the fandom and I'm allowed to do that. Just because it doesn't fit with your clearly overtly negative opion of the character well, tough luck. And hey, I gladly take the opportunity to talk about Suyin, but I've also made a ridiculous amount of posts around har and have probably addressed almost every single fandom complaint of her at some point so I'm starting to get a little tired of repeating myself lol.

And I'll be the first to admit, my own teenage years probably heavily affect how compassionate I am towards Suyin, particularly in her younger years. But I know how much people hate "troubled teens", how little compassion thet are given.

The narrative that if a misbehaving teenager just gets deisciplined and reprimanded enough they'll stop being "spoilt and entitled" or acting out is wrong and harmful. It hurts tons of teenagers by not getting them the help they need and it would've fucking killed me.

Also hun, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I tend to use hyperbole a lot. I'm a dramatic bitch. Like did you also think I was serious when I said I'd shoot myself if I saw another ad for Amazon's shit lotr wannabe show?

Tbh everytime I get an ask like this I vaguely consider doubling down and commiting to the bit of being the fandom's "Lin Beifong hater". Though I feel like a lot of people wouldn't realise its a bit and think I actually hate her for real lol.

#unscripted quill traumadump yay 🥳🥳🥳#avatar fandom when a teenage girl with skin thay is not white as snow does something imperfect: and I took that personally #suyin beifong #pro suyin beifong #lin beifong #toph #toph beifong #anti lin beifong #<joke tag #avatar #legend of korra #tlok #the legend of korra #avatar the legend of korra #atlok #lok

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scoobydoodean · 1 year ago

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losing my entire marbles at deancrits saying he's abusive bc he was parentified like????? a) do you know what parentification IS and b) tell me you dont have real problems without telling me

anw heres a pretty pic of dean w glasses that im obsessed with to help cope w all the anons

DEAN IN GLASSES!!!!

Someone just put it very very plainly in Courtney's inbox, but we all knew Dean's parentification was the force underlying the take that Dean has power over Sam... didn't we? ...I mean. I guess I can't speak for anyone else exactly, but I've written about how Dean's parentification is the driving force behind the narrative that Dean is abusive several times this year alone. In fact, before that anon clarified their meaning, I'd already done it for them.

Hardcore samgirls and others with this take on Dean seem to think Deangirls just "don't understand" the "power imbalance" in play. They think we've just never thought about their perspective, but... they actually just don't understand ours? They don't understand that what is absolutely vile and repulsive about their view is that it begins and ends with the perpetuation of Dean's childhood abuse.

One of the greatest horrors of parentification as a form of abuse is that it involves the illusion of power. It ascribes "power" to a child that that child does not actually have, and then judges that child for mishandling that "power".

"Something Wicked" is a great example of this. John blames Dean for Sam getting hurt, based on a lie that Dean had the power to stop the shtriga. In reality, Dean couldn't have done anything even if he'd been there, because the idea that he had power was nothing more than an illusion. He was far too young and inexperienced to be expected to carry through with a seasoned soldier's battle temperament when faced with a terrifying monster, but that isn't even the most direct expression of the illusion of Dean's power. His shotgun is. To harm a shtriga, you have to have iron-consecrated bullets. Dean did not have a weapon that could have harmed the shtriga. The gun only provides an illusion of power. When John blamed him, and Dean blamed himself—both did so because of a lie that Dean had power in a situation where Dean had absolutely none.

John blames Dean because he doesn't want to take responsibility for his own power and authority. He doesn't want to live with the fact that he had the knowledge, temperament, experience, role of protector, and consecrated bullets... but just wasn't there when Sam and Dean needed him. So he assigns all of the power and authority to Dean. Dean had the power. Dean made the wrong choices. Dean got Sam hurt. It wasn't John's choices or John's absence that nearly got Sam killed. John was helpless.

Every single time that samgirls claim Dean holds power over Sam through parentification, they refer to an illusion used to scapegoat a child for the actions of another. They assign Dean "power" over Sam that Dean does not actually have and then judge him for mishandling that "power".

The idea that Dean has authority over Sam through his childhood parentification is a lie. It is an illusion born from abuse. And when Sam occasionally decides he is unhappy with the outcome of the choices he made and doesn't want to face his own culpability, he does exactly what John did to Dean, because the poison drips down. Sam watched John treat Dean as if he possessed authority and power Dean didn't have for 18 years and some change. He learned how to assign Dean the same false authority and power and he learned Dean would absorb it, and now Samgirls want Dean to "curb that shit", while Sam blames Dean for his own choices in episodes like 1.10, 1.22, 5.04. In reality, there is no power imbalance.

Even if we want to argue that the false perception of Dean's power created the potential for an extremely toxic relationship regardless of whether the power is real or not, Dean would hardly be guaranteed the handle side of the knife. Sam has more than proven he can put that blade to Dean's throat.

#mail #projecting displaced aggression and scapegoating in spn #1.18 #5.04 #1.10 #1.22 #dont feed the stans after midnight #parentification #season 1 #season 5

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lifeiskentastic · 1 year ago

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Ken plays Cowboy, and gn!Reader helps him with it

Gif by @makoto-shinkai

A/N: This is probably the silliest thing I've ever written.

Summary: Ken, deeply immersed in the cowboy theme, decides to drag gn!Reader into his silly game. Well, it's not like Reader too much in the way…

Word count: 807 words;

Incpired: This Gorgeous Fanart by @thapunqueen;

Song I recommend: Of course, it's Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy) by Big & Rich;

Hope this makes you smile!

Almost immediately after the patriarchal period, Ken moved on to another. To the cowboy one. It seems that, having realised that he had nothing to catch on the beach (literally and figuratively), he decided to find himself in a radically different profession. So, from now on, this Ken is a cowboy! Which means walking around Barbieland in a cowboy carnival costume, swinging a Sporty Ken's rope lasso and at any moment (usually the most inappropriate) shouting random exclamations that only Ken considered cowboyish.

However, everyone just turned a blind eye to the ridiculousness of the situation, because Ken was happy. He had never smiled so happily as when he learnt to spin the Sporty Ken's rope lasso.

The problems only started when Ken got too much into the role. If at first he was just whining to every passerby that he wanted a gun, now he was shouting to every passerby that he wanted a gun. Everything seemed to work out when he got his wooden gun, but that was just the start of a crazy race called "Calm the Mad Ken Cowboy".

You've often wondered how things would have turned out if one day Ken hadn't just burst into your home with the words:

“You've been abducted! Piff-puff!!”

You were having a peaceful breakfast in your home in Barbieland, well, before you were abducted, of course.

“Why would you want to abduct me?”

Surely you would have been scared to be kidnap. And you probably would have been if Ken hadn't been your kidnapper.

“Because that's what real cowboys do!”

You didn't know much about cowboys, but something told you that they didn't kidnap random people (or dolls) in the middle of their breakfast.

Ken was smiling excitedly, looking back at the door and licking his lips as if he was expecting to see the sheriffs of the wild west on the porch. You really haven't seen him so excited about something in a long time... Maybe you should play along a little bit? What could happen but that you would only make your friend laugh more? Isn't that a good thing?

You take a deep breath before you start the most ridiculous game of your life.

"Uh-oh!" You put your hands up as if a real gun was pointed at you (although hardly anyone says 'uh-oh' when a deadly weapon is glowing in front of them). "I think I've really been kidnapped!"

Ken's eyes lit up with childlike joy as he looked at you with gratitude. You could barely keep your expression in character, hiding a playful smile. Apparently, you were infected with someone else's carefree spirit.

“When will the noble sheriffs come to rescue me?”

But suddenly Ken's face changed dramatically. He stared at at you in confusion, as if he had just realised that he had kidnapped someone (albeit in jest).

“Why can't I rescue you?”

“You abducted me.”

It seems that the word "noble" has put Ken in front of a difficult moral choice: either to be a kidnapping cowboy or to be a rescuing cowboy, but a noble one. After all, how could anyone but him be noble?

“Uh, wait here a minute.”

Ken ran out of the house, leaving you with your hands up in the middle of the kidnapping scene. And you could have sworn you heard a mysterious whispering coming from behind your door.

Later, you were uninvited to your home. For the second time in one day.

“You are saved!”

You exhaled and gave up. Well, it was definitely an unexpected turn of events, but not the worst. You'd managed to make Ken happy, so you could cross one thing off your to-do list! Oh, you were so naive...

“Now I have to kiss you!”

“What?”

Ken was radiating joyful levity even as he declared that it was his duty as a sheriff to kiss the rescued.

“That's what they do in the films.”

When you decided to have fun with Ken, you didn't mean it! You'd be lying if you said you were totally against it, but it did seem a little wrong to kiss in the circumstances. The problem was also that you were intimately familiar with Ken's stubbornness, and especially with the stubbornness of Ken the Cowboy Sheriff. And you had to do something about it immediately...

You hesitantly walked closer to him, quickly, until the cowboy took control of the situation. You reached for his face and lightly touched his soft cheek with your lips.

When you pulled away, you were greeted by a confused Ken, with his hand firmly pressed to his kissed cheek, his cowboy hat tilted back, his eyes shocked and a deep blush all over his face. You could hardly imagine his reaction if you had dared to kis- Thank you for saving me, officer! Ken could only nod

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theonemeathead · 10 months ago

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Spy x Reader, "Lovers Rock"

angsty songfic because i lauve tv girl so much. sorry for the lack of posts btw! tws for throw up, drinking. reader is gender neutral, enjoy! :3

Awkward, is how you would describe the circumstance.

Another victory, celebrated at a local bar full of cheap booze and loud music. And, normally, you would be there too, laughing and dancing the night away with the rest of your rowdy, drunken friends. Yet, you craved the quietness of an isolated night, and what better opportunity than to have the whole base to yourself until the return of the rising sun when the morning, unfortunately, returns?

Are you sick of me?

And just as you were beginning to get settled in for the night, the ringing of a wall-phone echoed through the empty halls. Sighing, you stare, contemplating for a second. Against your better judgement, you answer it, the bustling atmosphere immediately overwhelming your senses as you reluctantly raised the phone to your ear.

"Hello?"

"Yo, it's Scout. Listen, ya need'a get here ASAP. If Spy stays any longer, it's not gonna be pretty, I can guarantee ya that."

Would you like to be?

The clicking of his line ended with a low beep, leaving you with no choice but to give up your chance at a peaceful night to, yet again, babysit a grown man. You hung up, frustrated, quickly throwing on some clothes and grabbing the keys to a spare breadtruck.

Which leads you to your current situation.

It had been a pain in the ass, getting Spy into the vehicle. He repeated that he was fine, that he was 'an adult' and could 'make his own decisions'. Yet, the slurring of his speech, the way his pupils dilated, it was apparent he was one drink away from ruining his suit.

"I promise you, I am... okay?" he sounded unsure, as if he couldn't remember the correct words to piece together. Spy hardly ever got tipsy, let alone where he's at now. It was concerning.

I'm trying to tell you something.

"No, we're going back to base," you insisted, pressing your foot on the brake as you slowed to a stop. You looked over, observing how he had taken his overcoat off and folded it over his leg, his tie messily hanging undone around the collar of his dress shirt, a few of the buttons undone revealing greying chest hair. He looked so handsome in the illuminating redness of the stoplight.

"I don't need you to take care of me, I am able to do it myself." He shifted in the uncomfortable leather of the truck, bracing as the car started moving when the light flickered green.

Something that I already said.

"Spy, you're very clearly far from sober. You couldn't walk in a straight line, let alone stand up on your own—" You started, punctuating your words with a tone of agitation. "—What's the matter? Nobody's ever.... Well, I've never seen you like this."

The air hung heavy. He stayed silent, opting to try and force the conversation to end. You shook your head. One night, alone, and now you were stuck in a car with the most arrogant asshole on the team. You took a deep breathe, speaking up again.

You like a pretty boy.

"I just— I want you to know I worry about you, Spy, okay? I don't care how naïve that sounds, but if you needed me to ever pick you up and take you home again, I would," your voice was small, almost meek. You glanced over, noticing how his steel eyes scanned you for insincerity, as if he was deciphering if you were lying or not. Your eyes briefly locked, causing you to avert your attention back to the road, encased by the darkness of the night.

"Je ne comprends pas—"

"In English, please."

"Ah, forgive me. I am afraid I don't understand you, mon chér." His accent was heavy, almost indecipherable. The roughness of his voice was therapeutic, in a way. There was an almost hoarsness to it, even though he sounded oh so sweet. One of the many things that you couldn't seem to get out of your head.

With a pretty voice.

"I don't understand you either. I wish I did." You and Spy had been close, the closest he had been to someone since his last wife, over two decades ago. Yet, one day, after sharing a glass of wine, he flinched away. Something changed. He shrouded himself in a cloak of mystery, once again. Except, this time, it wasn't alluring or intriguing, it was frustrating and so very painful. He had convinced you that there could be something more, a burning spark of something gentle and fleeting. Yet, he refused. "You really hurt me that one night, Spy. I'm sure you know that, too."

"I've hurt a lot of people, chér. That's what I do."

"But it doesn't have to be that way. We could've—" you stopped yourself, feeling a familiar sting beginning to form in your throat. The last thing you needed was to cry. You stopped talking altogether, opting to turn the radio up instead. Old love songs looped on the radio in an endless, hellish loop that seemed to be designed to torment you and only you.

Who's trying to sell you something.

Veering left, you drove slowly through the blanket of fake landscape, pulling into makeshift garage. You turned the car off, the engine coughing as it finally keeled, the damn thing wasn't worth a crap anyways. You slid out, walking over to the passenger side. Spy had already gotten out and had upchucked in the nearest trashcan. Good thing he had leaned forward. You saddled up beside the older man, wrapping one of his long, skinny arms around your neck and supporting him with a firm hand around his waist.

Something that you already have.

You pushed open the heavy, steel doors, the coldness of the metal searing at the soft and warmth of your flesh. Spy had almost fallen over twice now and you had barely walked 5 feet altogether. You sat him on the couch of the living room, watching as he seemed dazed about his whereabouts.

"Stay here, I'm going to grab you a glass of water," you gently told him. He seemed to get it, nodding his head slowly to answer you. You took a glass from the cupboards. The material felt heavy in your hands, as if no other cup had held as much weight as this one. The reality of the situation hit you. You would pick him up, bring him home, take care of him, make sure he was okay... but would he do the same for you? Would Spy, a trained assassin with over 20 years of experience, be able to get over himself to be tender with you—for you?

But if you're too drunk to drive.

You returned, handing him the glass. You watched as he clumsily brought it to his lips, getting more liquid on himself, rather than drinking it properly. Sighing, you opt to hold his head back, using a steady hand to aid him in drinking. It was almost silly, the sight. He was in his late 40s, struggling to do something as simple as take a sip of water.

And the music is right.

You hooked yourself around him again, this time escorting him to his quarters. You had to venture through his smoking room, a place you had come to resent since that night he pushed you out and away. You felt a painful ache as you watched the lone record player in the corner; The record player you would both listen to Paul Anka and Frank Sinatra on. You had reached the large, mahogany door that led to his sleeping arrangement, along with a personal bathroom that he had paid Miss Pauling under the table to implement.

She might let you stay.

You sat him on the silken linen of his bed, watching as he seemed to embrace the soft fabric of the sheets. You kneeled, taking his shoes off. And slowly but surely, you had gotten him down to just a pair of briefs. He seemed too buzzed to care, or, perhaps, this was an act of trueting you, otherwise you were sure this act would be filled with French protest and various other quips. You had folded his suit and put it away, sitting the dirty clothes on a near-by chair. You, gingerly, took a white wifebeater and a pair of red-striped pants and slid them over his thin body. You traced every scar the Respawn machine never seemed to fully mend, taking the time to admire how he turned and twisted beneath the tenderness of your hand.

But just for the night.

Lastly, you pulled at his mask. He seemed to have sobered up in milliseconds, a hand flying to grab your wrist. He didn't have a furrowed brow or anything scornful, but something that threw you off completely; Fear. He had been sober enough this whole time to realize what you were doing, sober enough to stop you if he wanted to, yet he didn't. You pawed at it, yet again, his grip loosening slightly. Spy lifted his head up, allowing you to pull it off with more ease. You gently tucked the fabric into the bedside table, where he kept a spare revolver just in case; 'The Ambassador', he called it.

And if she grabs for your hand.

You sat on the edge of the bed as he laid behind you. You turned slightly, your body facing him now. Reaching a hand up to place it against the bristles of his clean shaven face, you stroked at the aged skin. His cheek bones, high and defined, sat nicely against his long face. You gently trailed your fingers up to his forehead, subconsciously counting the wrinkles that had formed over the years. Your hands traced down the hook of his nose, sloping down fully until your fingers rested against his chapped lips, which were normally soft. You had both been uncharacteristically silent through this whole ordeal and it was apparent the reason why; You both knew what would happen. That dwindling spark that lasted for even months after was still there. You felt it and you know he did too.

And drags you along.

"Mon cœur—" he broke the silence, gaining your attention. "Every night, I regret it. I miss our talks, our secrets."

Immediately, you felt a wave of nausea and anxiety. He looked up at you, taking your hand from his face and holding it in his own boney one. He rubbed gentle circles across the back of your hand, squeezing your fingers slightly as if he were going to lose you if he let go.

She might want a kiss.

"What did I do wrong?" The way you said it broke his heart. Your voice shook with so much emotion, it could've rattled the Earth to its core. The way your eyes had grown glossy from approaching tears, your lip quivering slightly to hold back a waterfall of sobs.

"Nothing, ma petit chou. I was..." He hesitated. Still under the influence, he marched forward, vulnerable and, for the first time in years, nervous. "I was afraid."

Before the end of this song.

"I loved you, Spy. I love you, still." You blinked, a couple of tears spilling down your warm cheeks. He clicked his tongue, taking his free hand and wiping them away as he sat up to face you. He brought you closer, pulling you forward and resting your head upon his chest. His heart was beating fast and erratic, from nerves or liquor you couldn't tell.

Because love can burn like a cigarette.

"I... I love you too. Please, stay with me tonight." It sounded pathetic coming from him. But, yet, you slid your shoes off and you turned the lamp off. You laid against him, hearts thrumming in rythm as he finally drifted off into what was some of the heaviest sleep he'd ever had. You had gotten past those walls, once again. Thankful was an understatement for how you felt. You knew Spy was complicated, someone who couldn't allow slip-ups or complications, it could cost him as much as his life.

And when he awoke the next morning, groggy with a pounding headache, with you clutching onto him as if he would leave in the middle of the night, Spy knew he had done at least one thing right in his drunken stupor. All he hoped for, now, was your forgiveness.

And leave you alone with nothing,

And leave you alone with nothing.

#tf2 #team fortress two #tf2 x reader #tf2 fandom #spy tf2 #tf2 spy #tf2 spy x reader #spy tf2 x reader #x reader #i love tv girl if u couldn't tell #angst

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sammysmaddy · 1 year ago

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Help You Forget (Sam Winchester x Reader)

Summary: As the youngest Winchester child, Y/N's life is turned upside down when her brother, Sam, gets a new girlfriend.

Pairing(s): Sam x Sister!Reader

Warning(s): incest, dub-con-administering reader, mention/suggestion of rape, angst, alcohol, sex under the influence, kissing, handjob, implied f. receiving

W/C: 6.2k+

A/N: First fic in a while! Hope I've not gotten rusty 😅

Masterlist

Y/N always hated moving. She thought she would get used to it eventually because she ended up moving with her family every few months, but she never did.

Now, Y/N was finally at the age where she could be left alone with her brother, Sam, whilst her other family, John and Dean, went on hunting trips.

At first, the idea excited Y/N. She loved Dean and her father but at times they were overbearing, especially with all of the unresolved anger that seemed to linger. Most of all, she was excited about Sam getting to be his own person. She never felt like Sam could truly express himself unless it was just around her. This way, Sam could just be Sam.

It wasn't like she chose to favor Sam over her other brother and father, it just kind of happened. Since she could remember, Dean would follow John around like a little lost puppy and when they both went away, all that was left was Y/N and Sam.

It was always pretty clear how much John resented Sam but nobody knew why he did, and John refused to admit it. Whereas on the other hand, Y/N was adored by John, most likely due to her being the baby of the family and the only daughter.

Sam and Y/N grew close because they had to, she was the only one who loved Sam as he deserved, yet Y/N knew that even if she was given the choice- she wouldn't change a thing. She cared for Sam more than anything in the world.

In the beginning, her excitement was fulfilled. She would stay up late watching horror movies or documentaries, eat cold leftover pizza, and hang out with Sam until early morning. And, Sam was wonderful. The kind of wonderful that she rarely got to see.

In John and Dean's time away, Y/N got to witness Sam at his truest potential. He joked more, laughed more, smiled more, and in turn, made Y/N happier than she ever thought she could be. It was the side of Sam that John and Dean couldn't even begin to comprehend if they tried. But, fortunately or unfortunately, other people saw the new side of Sam too.

Normally, Sam and Y/N stuck to themselves at school. Mostly because they knew they would be leaving again and they didn't want to get attached to new people, but also because they knew that all they needed was each other.

They didn't go to parties or join clubs at random high schools, they sat alone in corners during lunchtime and hardly poked their heads up at those who seemed interested in forming friendships with them.

This time was different. It was the last quarter of both Sam and Y/N's high school careers, and John had promised both of them that this would be their last school. When Y/N saw Sam leaning against his locker as he talked to a girl in the hallway, her heart felt as though it had shattered into a million pieces.

For the sake of her mental health and to repress the fear of being alone, Y/N brushed it off. She told herself that Sam was allowed to make new friends, furthermore, she told herself that it was healthy for Sam to make new friends. But the only kink in her chain about the whole situation was that for whatever reason, she was repulsed at the idea of Sam having another girl in his life.

Y/N knew it was silly. She knew she shouldn't care and that she should be accepting, but she couldn't get over her feelings of jealousy. She couldn't help but feel that overbearing energy her father always seemed to possess, although she did her best to hide it.

It became hard to hide when Sam started to stay after school to "study" with a friend. It shocked Y/N to her core. He had never once chosen to study, much less choose to make a friend. Sam was always the type of student who didn't need to rehearse, he could absorb whatever information taught in class and remember it all the day of the exam.

Y/N had a gut feeling, a feeling that told her that Sam was changing. She felt guilty for wanting him all to herself, guilty for wanting Sam to always stay the same. She couldn't admit it but she hated the idea of Sam spreading his wings because it meant that he was leaving her behind. She didn't understand why Sam would want to leave her.

After a few months, Y/N finally realized the reason Sam wanted to hang out with his girlfriend, Lindsay, almost every night. She could barely comprehend why Sam didn't tell her, but she had accidentally found out one night that they were having sex. That was why Sam all of a sudden started to favor Lindsay's company over Y/N's.

It hurt Y/N's feelings that Sam didn't tell her he had lost his virginity. She couldn't even imagine hiding something that big from Sam, even if it wasn't the most appropriate thing to tell her brother.

Sam was the one who told her about sex and in return, a few months later she had shown him his first skin mag. Hell, she had even poked fun at Sam's various boners throughout the years and he had always joked back. Why was this any different?

Y/N began to make a plan of action. She wanted to appeal to what Sam wanted to reestablish the relationship that they had before. If sex was what Sam wanted, Y/N was going to do whatever it took to make him happy, and she didn't begin to double-guess whether it was wrong.

She began to think about all of the different ways she could go about it. She knew that she wasn't too astray from Sam's "type", as Sam's girlfriend shared similar features with her. Y/N, however, was very different from Lindsay in the way that she dressed. Y/N wasn't even sure that she had ever exposed more skin than Lindsay- even in her bathing suit.

Although it was repurposed from the "emergency" wad of cash her father had left behind, Y/N spent a little money every week or so to upgrade her wardrobe. She didn't want Sam to notice that she was changing and the last thing she wanted was to expose her plan to him. She couldn't afford to push him away any further.

So, Y/N did it slowly. She did her hair differently, experimented with different makeup, and wore different, more revealing clothes.

She gauged whether Sam liked it or not by the way that he looked at her when he drove her home after school. Most mornings Sam would wake up on the wrong side of the bed and he would hardly talk to her, after school was different because he was a bit more relaxed.

If he liked the look, Y/N could see how his pupils dilated. He breathed somehow slower and faster simultaneously, he had difficulty speaking, and Y/N's favorite indicator was that he couldn't seem to stop swallowing. Although probably the most innocent reaction and part of her plan, it turned Y/N on to see Sam look at her the way he looked at Lindsay.

Y/N also made her own friends. To preoccupy her nights without Sam, Y/N began to go to simple house parties, mingling with everyone she could. This led her to be invited and befriended by some of the most popular kids in school, and almost every night she was somewhere new.

She began to understand Sam leaving her behind. She hardly thought of him when she would drink the night away, laughing with her friends about stupid inside jokes or watching them fail keg stands. But the second she was left alone, all she felt was empty.

To add to all of it, Sam had grown more distant. Although he barely spoke in the morning, most mornings now were completely silent as they drove to school together. His reactions to Y/N's outfits and appearance changes grew more faint, and many were replaced by eye rolls.

He had even tried to pull the big brother card by suggesting that she was partying too much. And that was when Y/N knew it was time for the final step of her plan.

"You don't even know what a party is like," Y/N huffed as Sam pressed on the gas a little harder.

"Okay, yeah, I may have never been to a party, but I'm not blind! All you do is drink and probably let your guy friends get a little too handsy!" Sam raised his voice, causing Y/N to audibly groan.

"Are you slut-shaming me? Because that sounds a lot like slut shaming, Sam."

"I don't know, maybe I am." Sam turned to look at Y/N for a split second, her cheeks heating up in return. "I mean, you'd be lying to me if you didn't say that every single one of your guy friends wants to sleep with you."

"They don't all want to sleep with me,"

"Bullshit! That's a whole load of crap and you know that, Y/N!"

"So what if they do? Huh, Sam? That doesn't mean that I want to sleep with them." Y/N was getting more frustrated by the second, and she could tell that Sam was as well.

They never fought. Maybe there would be a disagreement now and then about who should take the trash out, but that was the extent of it. She wasn't sure why, but the fight with Sam excited her. It was probably because, in one way or another, he was expressing that he cared.

"They're boys, Y/N, boys! What do you think will happen to you if you continue to play dumb?" Sam shocked Y/N as she went silent for a few seconds.

"Dumb? What's that supposed to mean?" Y/N asked Sam lowly, glaring at him as he gripped the steering wheel harder.

"You know exactly what I mean. You're hanging out with a bunch of boys who think they're men and you're all drinking, what do you think is going to happen to a girl like you? That's not a good mix and it would be stupid of you to think otherwise."

"You don't think I can handle myself?"

"No, I don't think you can handle yourself,"

"I can't believe you, Sam. You're probably just jealous that you don't get invited to things like I do!" Y/N crossed her arms as Sam scoffed aloud.

"Why would I be jealous of a bunch of teenagers getting hammered and all screwing each other?"

"Yep. Like I said, you don't even know what a party is like." Y/N flattened her lips as her voice lowered. "How about this?"

"What?" Sam groaned as he rolled his eyes.

"You come to a party with me and you'll see that it's not so bad."

"Why would I do that?"

"Bring Lindsay with you. Drink, don't drink, I don't care, but I'm tired of being called dumb just for having fun with my friends."

"Maybe I will!"

"Fine by me!"

"Fine!"

•••

It wasn't much longer until the next party rolled around. Whatever frequent talking that occurred between Sam and Y/N turned into the occasional remark and questioning each other on what would be for dinner. Other than that, they mostly kept to themselves and it utterly ate at Y/N.

Y/N got the text when she was eating dinner at the table, Sam and Lindsay were bundled up on the couch causing Y/N to physically gag every time she looked over her shoulder.

"Sam, get up." Y/N stood up abruptly, causing the wooden chair to screech as she pushed it back.

"Why, what happened?" Sam was clearly beginning to panic within the split second between responses.

"We're going to a party!" Y/N began walking to her side of the motel room.

"What? No!" Sam, now standing up, groaned.

Y/N began to dig through her bag for clothes as Sam sat back down next to Lindsay.

"I think it might be fun," Lindsay said somewhat quietly, causing Y/N's head to pop up.

"Really?" Sam asked and Y/N watched as Lindsay nodded her head.

"Yeah, I haven't been to a party in forever!" Lindsay seemed to perk up more and more by the second. "Hey, Y/N, it's Adam's party, right?"

Y/N nodded her head with a small smile, watching Lindsay light up at her answer. Sam did not appear to be as excited as the girls.

"Come on, Sam! When's the last time you went to a party?" Lindsay asked her boyfriend as she stood up.

"Oh, ummm, I don't know," Sam scratched the back of his neck as he looked up at his girlfriend. "Probably a few months or so?"

Y/N chuckled as Sam sent her a glare. Not only was it very much blatantly untrue, but he made it sound as though he was asking Lindsay for the answer.

"Yes!" Y/N exclaimed as she stood from a crouching position whilst holding up her very favorite top.

"What?" Sam asked as Lindsay grabbed her things scattered around the room.

"I found my favorite top. I thought I had lost it at the laundromat!" Y/N held the shirt up in front of her to show Sam.

"You can't wear that," Sam raised an eyebrow at his little sister, his words catching the attention of his girlfriend.

"Why not, babe?" Lindsay asked, crossing her arms in front of her. Somehow, she instantly looked intimidating.

"I think he's trying to tell me it's too slutty," Y/N glared at Sam, biting the inside of her cheeks with agitation.

"Half my wardrobe is more revealing than that, she's going to be fine, Sam," Lindsay assured her boyfriend.

Sam bit his tongue as he stared at his younger sister, and Y/N knew she had won the debate.

"My place for the pregame?" Lindsay announced as she looked at Y/N. Y/N nodded her head, sending Sam a small smirk afterward.

•••

It was a small party compared to the ones that Y/N, and probably also Lindsay, had been to. There were around fifty people strewn across the backyard of Adam's house, all doing various activities. You had the smokers, the swimmers, the ones who caused scandals, and then there was Sam, who did not seem to be enjoying himself whatsoever.

Y/N had left the pair early on to go play some drinking games with her friends and now and then looked over her shoulder to find Sam. For the most part, he stood with one drink in his hand and the other was tucked away in his pocket as Lindsay talked to seemingly everybody at the party.

Y/N wanted so desperately to go and save Sam, even if they hadn't been on the best of terms lately. She knew how uncomfortable Sam was just by looking at his posture but was too proud to help him.

When two seats had opened up next to Y/N, she called across the yard for the couple to join the game. Sam would get to sit down and he didn't have to socialize, and Y/N figured it would be a good way to get him to drink a bit more.

The rather good-looking couple, though Y/N hated to admit it, made their way across the lawn and sat down in the chairs around the small table. Around ten people were playing a game of truth or dare, and Y/N figured it was a good way to get Sam acclimated to other people.

People began to chatter among themselves before beginning the next round. Y/N leaned over to talk to her friend Mariah.

"I cannot believe your brother is dating Lindsay Hough!" Mariah seemed shocked as she scoffed, causing Y/N to raise an eyebrow.

"Why?" Y/N asked curiously as her other friend Emma joined the conversation.

"Dude! That's Adam's ex-girlfriend and probably the person with the highest body count in possibly the entire school!" Emma raised both her eyebrows as her mouth widened, looking back and forth at Lindsay and Sam.

"Oh," Y/N frowned, looking back to see Sam smiling as he watched Lindsay chat with other people. "I didn't know that."

"Yeah, she hasn't been to one of Adam's parties since they broke up like three months ago," Mariah sucked her teeth as she shrugged her shoulders. "I guess she wants to make Adam jealous."

"Or maybe Sam," Emma added, now blatantly staring at Lindsay and Sam.

"Is she...?" A lightbulb lit up in Y/N's mind as she began to think of all of the times her friend group mentioned 'Thou who shall not be named'. Mariah and Emma nodded their heads simultaneously.

"Okayyy," Adam dragged on as he made his way toward the table with a case of beers. "Who needs one?"

Y/N looked over at Sam as Adam opened the box, handing beers out. She raised her hand and as she realized Sam wasn't going to, she spoke up, "Can I get two please?"

"Of course!" Adam threw Y/N a couple of beers. "Getting pretty drunk tonight, Winchester?" He chuckled as he smirked at her.

"Maybe, but I really just wanted an extra for the other Winchester," Y/N giggled as Adam continued to keep a smug face.

"Other Winchester? Who's that?" Adam pushed his head back with a confused look.

"This is my brother, Sam!" Y/N squeezed Sam's arm a little to indicate which one he was.

"Oh! Nice to meet you, dude! I've heard a lot about you." Adam smiled, reaching out to shake Sam's hand.

"Oh," Sam said awkwardly, his cheeks heating up. "Really?"

"Oh yeah, Y/N never shuts up about you, dude," Adam responded with a laugh, causing Y/N's cheeks to heat up.

"I do not!" Y/N exclaimed as if she were highly offended.

"Yeah, yeah," Adam continued to laugh as he began to look around the group.

Y/N watched as Adam finally laid eyes on Lindsay. She also watched as Adam's glance traveled downwards, his eyes widening at the sight of Sam and Lindsay holding hands. Adam scoffed, blinking a few times before clearing his throat.

"Who wants to go first?" Adam snapped out of it as he looked around at the group.

"I will!" Y/N raised her hand after realizing nobody wanted to go. "Sam, truth or dare."

"Say dare, babe!" Lindsay tried her best to whisper as she shook Sam's arm.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, let's do dare," Sam swallowed, noticeably uncomfortable by the extra attention from the rest of the players.

"I dare you to finish that beer right now," Y/N smiled at Sam and he rolled his eyes at the challenge. "Adam he's gonna need a new one in a second!"

Surprisingly, Sam was not completely hesitant to complete the task. He popped the tab open, tipped his head back, and nearly drank the entire can in one breath.

"Woah, dude, that was honestly impressive," Adam handed Sam a fresh beer in disbelief.

"Thanks, man,"

•••

The round went on for a long time, long enough for both Sam and Y/N to be visibly tipsy. Sam was finally letting loose and not taking himself so seriously, and it made Y/N happy to see. Right around now was when the party started to dwindle and Y/N's emptiness began to set, but she didn't feel that tonight.

"Y/N, truth or dare?" Adam's best friend, Jalen, asked.

"Dare!" Y/N felt nearly invincible at this point, like nothing could ruin her night.

"I dare you," Jalen paused, looking around whilst pursing his lips. "To make out with Adam for thirty seconds!" He slapped the sides of both of Adam's arms and Y/N blushed, taking a few seconds to answer.

"Okay," Y/N stated simply, standing up as she made her way to the other side of the table.

She didn't want to overdo it, feeling as though it might make Sam more uncomfortable than turned on, so she opted for sitting on Adam's lap instead of straddling him. She teased Adam's lips, getting close enough to feel his breath as she held onto him by wrapping her arms around the back of his neck.

After a few seconds of watching the way Adam chased her lips with his, she finally went in for the kiss. It was slow at first, simple movements as their lips caressed one another's. Y/N picked up the pace and as it became sloppier, Y/N gripped his face with her fingertips and drew him in deeper. She may have been tipsy, but it had to have been one of the better kisses she had ever experienced.

Through the passion and various cheers from the rest of the players, Y/N didn't know how long it had been before she pulled back. She held the bottom of Adam's chin after pulling back, planting his lips with one last lingering kiss.

Y/N then stood up and made her way chair, noticing that Sam was no longer sitting with the group- which was exactly the opposite of what she wanted to happen. She didn't want Sam to be repulsed by the thought of her being sexual, she wanted him to be intrigued by it.

"That was at least 45 seconds!" Mariah screamed in a hushed whisper when Y/N sat down.

"Yeah, that was one of the top ten hottest kisses of all time!" Emma joined, shaking Y/N's arm excitedly.

"I want to go next," Lindsay said to the group and Y/N and her friends geared their attention toward her.

"By all means," Adam waved his hands above the table. Lindsay stared at Adam deviously before speaking up.

"Jalen, truth or dare?" Lindsay slurred with a small smirk on her face, taking a sip of her watered-down cranberry vodka.

"Uhh, dare!" Jalen smirked as the crowd 'oohed'.

"I dare you to give me a lap dance," Lindsay smiled as she looked at Jalen. Adam shrugged his shoulders in response, seeming not to care.

"Your wish is my command," Jalen smirked as he stood from the table, making his way toward Lindsay.

Jalen seductively advanced toward Sam's girlfriend. He was rather fit and made it all the more convincing as he chose to take his shirt off and swing it like a rope above his head before tossing it in Lindsay's lap.

The remaining players cheered as Jalen began to slowly make his way on top of Lindsay, grabbing her head as he pressed his body against her face. He continued the motion and eventually Lindsay stuck her tongue out as Jalen ran it up and down his abdomen.

Near the end, when Lindsay's eyes were dark and full of lust, Jalen bent his neck down and kissed her. To Y/N's surprise, Adam was the first to cheer the pair on as they began to make out passionately. Even more surprising was the look of terror on Sam's face when Y/N turned around to see her big brother in disarray.

Y/N felt her heart break for Sam as she watched him storm away from the table. She quickly told her friends that she had to go before chasing after him. Y/N didn't call his name because she knew that he needed a second to process and she needed a moment to process it herself.

This was not part of her plan. She wanted to convince Sam to like parties, not despise them. She figured maybe he would have fun, go to a few more with her, and drink a bit. Y/N thought that maybe if she had enough alcohol in her system, she could finally show Sam how much she missed him.

Now that Lindsay has completely spoiled that for Y/N, Y/N was at a loss. She had no idea what she was going to say when she finally caught up to Sam, she wasn't even sure if he wanted her around at that moment.

As her heart raced and she got closer, she called Sam's name out. He continued walking as if he hadn't heard, so Y/N called it out again before Sam eventually came to a stop.

To Y/N's astonishment, Sam immediately engulfed her in a tight hug when she finally reached him. Y/N held her brother, rubbing her hands up and down his back as he took a few deep breaths in.

"Let's go home?" Y/N asked, looking up into Sam's eyes when he finally broke the hug. Sam nodded in return.

•••

After their 20-minute walk in silence to the motel, Sam promptly went to the fridge and pulled out a few beers. Y/N kept quiet as she got her pajamas out of her bag, mostly because she didn't want to say the wrong thing to upset Sam any further.

"Stay up with me?" Sam called out to Y/N as she made her way to the bathroom.

"Yeah, of course," Y/N looked over as Sam sat at the small table in the middle of the kitchen. "I just need to shower really quick."

Y/N took a quick shower but put her pajamas on slowly, panicking as she continued to feel Sam's heartbreak. She washed her face and brushed her teeth at an excruciatingly reduced pace before returning to the living room.

"Do you want to change and then we can watch a movie together?" Y/N asked as she watched Sam drink at the table, on his second since their arrival. Sam nodded his head.

Y/N spent the extra few dollars to rent one of Sam's favorite movies as Sam got ready for bed. Her bed was closer to the TV in the corner and considering the circumstances of the night, Y/N was not surprised when Sam chose to lie next to her.

They had always been comfortable with simple intimacy because they had shared a bed for most of their lives, so curling up in Sam's arms felt completely natural to Y/N. It hadn't happened in a while, so the feeling of being draped in Sam felt incredibly invigorating.

Y/N laid her cheek on Sam's bare chest as she watched the movie. Sam kept his fingers resting comfortably in her hair and would occasionally stroke her scalp. Their legs rested against one another and they melted in each other's arms as the movie continued.

Y/N didn't hate the movie, although she didn't enjoy gore all that much. She wasn't sure whether Sam liked gore either, but she knew that it was one of his favorites because of its storyline and funny moments.

She relaxed a bit as she felt Sam's chest move up and down each time he chuckled at certain lines, happy that he could take his mind off of tonight. As she laid on his chest, she ran her fingers up and down between his pectoral muscles.

Y/N eventually stopped watching the movie, preferring to watch the way Sam's micro-sized hairs shot up when she stroked over a specific spot. Sam, copying Y/N's petting behavior, massaged her scalp with his fingertips as he continued laughing at the film.

After only a few moments of watching the way Sam's body reacted to her touch, Y/N began to feel extremely content. It was partially due to the excessive amount of alcohol she consumed, but mostly due to being in Sam's arms. She had missed Sam so much while he was with Lindsay and in all fairness, she only got friends of her own to make him jealous.

Y/N loved Sam more than anything in the world and tonight was the ultimate reminder that it would always just be the two of them. They hadn't seen their other family in over two months and while partying was a lot of fun, Y/N realized that she didn't want friends. All she wanted was Sam.

"Is this my shirt?" Sam plucked at the cotton on Y/N's body with his fingers, her nipples instantly going erect by the movement of the fabric.

"Mhm," Y/N hummed contently with a small smile on her face.

She decided to pick her head up and look at Sam but was instantly saddened by the expression on his face.

"Did you want it back?" Y/N arose, sitting next to Sam. Chills went down her spine as his hand fell from the back of her head to resting around her waist.

"It's not that," Sam sighed, staring at the television with a blank expression. "I thought Lindsay had taken it a long time ago."

"Oh," Y/N frowned at the thought of Lindsay. Even if Y/N didn't like her stealing Sam's attention, she didn't want for Lindsay to break his heart. "You'll be better off without her, Sammy."

Y/N comforted Sam by reaching her arm out and running her fingers through his hair. Sam flattened his lips into a straight line and nodded slowly.

"I know. I just- never mind." Sam stuttered, mumbling as he made it clear to Y/N that he was still slightly intoxicated.

"You know you can talk to me about anything, right?" Y/N questioned softly as she continued to massage his hair. Sam nodded his head in return.

"I'm going to miss her," Sam muttered after a few seconds as if he were ashamed to admit it.

"I know, Sammy," She nodded with a frown.

Sam squeezed Y/N's hip with his hand as his face began to contort. Before Y/N could reach down and engulf him, Sam reached over with his other arm and buried his face in her lap.

She watched as Sam's back moved rapidly up and down as he began to sob, squeezing her as he let his feelings out. Y/N's heart hurt for her brother and she went silent as she continued to hold his head in her hands.

It was very seldom that Sam cried and Y/N was never good with words when he got upset. She held him for a few minutes and felt the way his tears soaked through her shirt, breathing through the slight pain he caused when he squeezed her body every few seconds.

"I love you so much, Sam. You deserve so much better than her." Y/N reassured when Sam caught his breath.

"I don't know what I did wrong," Sam sobbed, his words hurting Y/N's brain as she processed them.

"Sammy, you know it's not your fault," Y/N sighed as she picked his head up with her hands.

Sam looked up into his little sister's eyes with doubt and Y/N slid down so that she could lay facing him. He brought her into a tight embrace as he continued to cry with his face pressed into her chest.

Y/N hated the strange comfort it brought her. She hated the idea of being happier now that Sam was heartbroken but she loved that he was all hers again. Now that Lindsay was out of the picture, she wasn't sure that giving him sex was the right answer.

But she had already imagined having Sam all to herself so many times that the thought of never being intimate with him hurt her soul. If that was what he was missing from his cheating girlfriend, then she could still provide him with that. The only problem in her mind was finding a way to initiate it.

Sam brought his head up from her chest and Y/N immediately cradled his face in her hands, looking at him as his lip quivered. He didn't say a word before Y/N pressed her lips to his.

Y/N planted a small, soft kiss on his tear-soaked lips before going in for another. The mixture of longing, heartbreak, and intoxication must have caught up to Sam as he began to kiss Y/N back.

She wasn't sure how it would feel to kiss her own brother but the second Sam began to suck Y/N's bottom lip in, she knew that they were made for each other. She kissed him harder and with more passion, eventually leading to their tongues crashing together before retreating.

Then Sam pulled back and Y/N felt her heart drop.

"We shouldn't be doing this," Sam looked terrified as he looked at Y/N with wide eyes.

"Shh, Sammy. I can make you feel better," Y/N said softly, bringing her lips to his again.

Sam stayed still as she brushed her lips against his and Y/N panicked slightly internally when he didn't return the favor.

"Y/N, we can't. This is wrong," Sam whispered but Y/N didn't want to hear it. She then opted to place wet, sloppy kisses on his neck instead.

Y/N felt Sam squirm uncomfortably, his body tensing as she ran her hand up and down his abdomen. When he relaxed after a few seconds, she tried his lips again. Sam continued to stay still, not granting her access to his mouth.

"Let me take care of you. I want to help you forget." Y/N whispered in Sam's ear, running her fingers through his hair as she carried on kissing his neck.

With this possibly being Y/N's only opportunity to convince Sam that he needed her, she found her hand beginning to trace his v-line. This made Sam shudder and Y/N loved the way his head tilted back, exposing his neck even more.

Trailing kisses over new spots on his neck, Y/N rubbed her hand over the front of Sam's shorts. She could feel that Sam was getting hard, which nearly made her explode as she began to feel pressure building in her stomach.

As much as she had dreamt about having sex with Sam, she was still a virgin and didn't want to take the spotlight away from him. All she cared about right then and there was making Sam happy and that meant getting him off.

"Y/N," Sam lightly protested, grabbing her hand.

Before he could pull it away, Y/N seized her opportunity and began to kiss him before he could speak again. This time he kissed back almost immediately and Y/N felt as his member twitched under her hand.

"Don't think, Sammy. Just let it happen." Y/N said softly in between kisses.

Feeling the way Sam relaxed as he took her advice, Y/N decided to dip her hand into his shorts and underneath his boxers. As she felt his cock throb in her palm, she pumped him a few times in her hand. Sam moaned into her mouth as he continued to kiss her passionately.

With what little room Y/N had to work with, she did her best to pump him fully. She gauged whether or not he enjoyed it by how hard he kissed her back and continued to switch the motion up so that it wouldn't become too monotonous.

To Y/N's surprise, Sam eventually hurriedly pushed his shorts down to expose his length without breaking their kiss. When his hands returned, he held Y/N's face as he kissed her with more urgency.

Opening her eyes out of curiosity, Y/N looked down and let out a small gasp. She could feel how big Sam was in her hand but to look at the size of his cock with her own two eyes was shocking.

Y/N had never done anything like this before but she wasn't completely clueless, so she figured that Sam was getting closer to climax. With all the free room needed to stroke him to his full extent, she began to pump him in her hand fervently.

Sam moaned gutturally and Y/N opened her eyes just in time to watch the way his eyes began to roll to the back of his head. She pulled back from his lips and began to kiss his exposed neck so that he could focus on finishing.

Y/N ran her finger over the tip of Sam's cock and switched up the speed and intensity. She sucked on the thin skin of his throat, lightly running her teeth over it, and Sam's cock began to twitch erratically.

Growing more aroused by the second, Y/N relished the little sounds that escaped from Sam's throat. She trailed her lips over his collarbones, and he let out a little whine as he continued to twitch.

"Fuck!" Was the first word out of Sam's mouth before Y/N felt a warmness touch the skin on her hands.

Y/N decided to take it slower so as not to overwhelm him as she carried on pumping him in her hand. As they rode out the entirety of Sam's climax together, Y/N found herself smiling as she placed soft kisses on his chest.

Sam panted as Y/N removed her hand, running her fingertip through the cum that had spurted on his abdomen. She let out a small giggle as she felt her cheeks heat up with happiness.

Sam grabbed Y/N's hand, removing it from his stomach and Y/N felt her heart drop. She hadn't thought about what might happen afterward, she knew that post-nut clarity was definitely a real thing after hanging around so many boys. Hoping that Sam wasn't upset with her, she let him remove her hand.

She almost didn't look up as she began to grow scared of his reaction, but as she did, Sam looked into her eyes with a small smile on his face.

"I missed you so much, Y/N," Sam whispered softly as he cupped her face, bringing her in as he placed his lips on hers.

Y/N didn't say anything as her cheeks heated with validation. She almost forgot to kiss him back as she processed his words. Eventually, she melted into his touch.

"I missed you too, Sammy," Y/N said quietly as she pulled back only an inch or so.

Not even a moment later, Sam wasted no time on showing her how much he missed her.

#fanfic #supernatural #spn #spnfamily #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam x reader #sam x sister!reader #darkfic #jared padalecki

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captainderyn · 11 days ago

Note

!!! Don't mind if I do!! 💕 a kiss somewhere other than the lips & ship of your choice? :3

I may have um...accidentally used this as an ingredient in Angst Soup for an idea I've had kicking around *sweats* hope that's okay.

Baraneth/Alistair -- Set during Trespasser (9:44 Dragon). Spoiler(ish) for a codex entry regarding Denerim.

💕 a kiss somewhere other than the lips

Leaving years of crisis behind would have been too easy.

The Breach in the sky closing, the Inquisition stepping back from both Ferelden and Orlais borders, the calming of the mage-templar conflict; all were things that made it seem as though Baraneth and Alistair could finally step back for a moment and breath.

Through years of work they had finally stabilized the Bannorn enough to partially step away, enough trust and rapport built that Arl Teagan could make the journey to speak on Ferelden’s behalf at the Exalted Council in Halamshiral instead of one of them making the journey.

That was before the barrels of gaatlok were found packed in the cellars of Denerim’s castle, primed to go off at any time.

That was before Baraneth and their almost two year old daughter spent a fretful night in one of their staff’s homes on the outskirts of Denerim under heavy guard, while Alistair rode about like a madman, evacuating the castle and all surrounding residences.

By dawn a raven, dated just over a week prior, arrived with news of a qunari plot, being handled by the Inquisition. Within the hour, Alistair sent a return raven with two scrolls--one for Leliana and one for addressed to an agent of theirs with an offer for the Inquisitor alternative to what Teagan was pushing for.

Midmorning came and went, and with it a packed carriage in front of the lady in waiting’s residence that Baraneth and Eleanor had overnighted in.

Baraneth hurried from the doorway as quickly as her heavily pregnant self would allow her to maneuver. Her lady in waiting, Mara, followed close behind with Eleanor, wrapped tightly in a blanket against the chill in the air.

“Alistair!” Baraneth threw her arms around him, and it took all of his remaining energy to not not collapse into her touch. His heart hadn’t left his throat since the previous evening, when dinner had been interrupted by their staff finding the gaatlok, “You didn’t return last night, I was worried sick.”

He pressed a long kiss to her forehead, hands resting on either side of her neck so he could run his thumbs along her jaw.

“Everything was, and is, quite a mess. Someone had to keep the people and Bannorn from stampeding." He tried to joke, but his own voice fell flat. Maybe once he could have spun this sort of situation into a web of humor, but it became harder and harder with each new trouble that appeared.

Baraneth let out a tired sigh, “I’m surprised people even react anymore. What’s to be done? Mara already said she'd be willing to keep Eleanor here for a while.”

He was silent for a moment, caressing her jaw as he moved to rest his chin atop Baraneth’s head. He fixed his eyes on Eleanor, hardly more than a thick head of dark hair as she burrowed into her blanket, still asleep. Mornings had never been her favorite time, not even in the months most people claimed their infants had woken them at dawn. Two years in and some things didn’t change. His heart twisted.

At a slight nod from him, Mara disappeared back inside with Eleanor, letting the door click softly behind her.

“Alistair?” Baraneth’s hands splayed across his chest as she pushed back from him, brows knitting. “What are you thinking?”

He brushed Baraneth’s hair back from her forehead from where she’d pressed against his shoulder, running his hand down the length of her braid and flicking it over her shoulder. Stalling. The horses behind him snorted, jangling their harness.

“I think while this is being handled is a good time to take Fergus up on his offer to stay with him and Elysande in Highever.” he nodded back towards the carriage. “I got it all packed and ready to go in the overnight hours.”

Her eyes flicked to the carriage, then back to him.

“Yes…” she began slowly, hands beginning to twist in the fabric of his jacket. “We had spoken about spending time in Highever, hadn’t we?”

Alistair let his hands settle on Baraneth’s hips, settling just below the swell of her belly. She brought one hand down to rest upon it, in the spot their daughter had taken to kicking with all the intensity of a training Antivan Crow. Her eyes searched his, her lower lip beginning to tremble.

“We’re all going.” she said, very deliberately. “All of us.”

“I will meet you there.” Alistair soothed. “As soon as I get things stabilized here.”

A few tears slid down Baraneth’s cheeks and she ripped one hand up to flick them away.

“We’re staying.” She insisted, chest heaving as she sucked in a breath. “We’re all staying together.”

The last thing he wanted was to be separate from her, after the two years she’d been gone searching for the Cure he had done everything in his power to keep them that way. But he would not lose his wife, his daughter, their baby, to a scheme they didn’t know the depths of.

“It’s a ten day carriage ride, by the time you get there I’ll already be on my way.” he tried to keep his own voice from betraying how badly he wished to hop in the carriage with her. “Bara, I need to keep you all safe.”

Her tears fell harder, the hand twisted in his jacket pressing where they both knew a scar rested at the junction of his chest and shoulder from the last time fanatics had thought about stripping Ferelden of its rulers.

“The baby is due any time now.” Baraneth gasped out the words. “I need you there.”

“Elysande will be there if anything goes wrong. I'll only be a few days behind you, I promise." Alistair brushed her tears away, meeting her agonized look. "It's going to be alright, Bara."

She stared at him, pressing her lips together.

"Please." He murmured. "I need to know you are safe."

She squeezed her eyes closed, but nodded.

"You come home to us as fast as you can." She opened her eyes, which still brimmed. But her tears halted, for the moment. "Promise me. Alistair."

He held her tight to his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

"As fast as a horse can carry me, I promise."

#captainderyn answers #dragon age #alistair x cousland #king alistair #oc: Baraneth #otp: A Warden's Rose #Man someone should really give them a break *staring at myself in the mirror*#thank you for the ask!

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got-into-worm-by-mistake · 5 months ago

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“That’s her choice.” Tattletale repeated herself. “No! That’s- that’s not her. That’s the change I made doing the talking, or the aftermath of it. Even if I removed all the neural connections that have been made since, there’s so much more in the emotional cocktails and hormonal balances. She’s channeling it into anger instead of… instead of love.” Love. The implications were so fucked up. It was the sort of thing Heartbreaker did. She hugged her arms against her body. There were tears in her eyes. “You need to fix her mind now. For you, not for her. Maybe she’ll forgive you at a later date, when she’s thinking clearly again,” Tattletale said. “Maybe then she can approach you, you two can start interacting again, you rebuild that trust over months or years, and you can finish healing her body when she gives you her permission.” “Or I can fix her now, undo what I did and then walk away forever, because I don’t deserve forgiveness and she shouldn’t have to live like this because- because a wrong I committed fucked with her focus or made her too aggressive or-”

Tattletale isn't wrong here, not even close, and Amy absolutely should fix Vicky's mind now, but Amy's also not wrong that it's not quite that simple.

Amy has fallen into the trap her whole life has built for her, the idea that she's a monster, is only capable of being a monster and that's what she is and always will be, and she's now starting to commit to that path.

Now, even allowing for that, it shouldn't be hard for her to fix Vicky's mind and then keep healing her and then unparalyze her and just leave then. But Amy's mind is shot - as she said, she needs rest, I doubt the girl has had anything resembling good sleep either lately, and realistically she has ever right to fear she might get things wrong given how she got here in the first place.

The question continues to be not 'did she do wrong' (because she did, obviously, and will do worse), it continues to be 'what does what she did, and the mental state she was in, say about her more broadly'.

Very few people actually act like Amy did nothing wrong. Even before Wildbow 'revealed' his 'original meaning' of later scenes. People, acting on some of Wildbow's various errant words of god that he has long since decided to ignore, did sometimes believe Amy's moral culpability was more reduced than it (officially) is because of the Aura, or Broadcast or that more of this stuff was accidental or driven by Shaper messing with her mind, etc, but very few people actually said Amy did nothing wrong here unironically.

Almost all those "Woobie Amy" fics and notions that Wildbow supposedly saw that made him decide to be so damn spiteful in Ward have situations such that Amy doesn't do what she does here. The number of fics where Amy mind-controls Vicky, let alone actually wretches her or rapes her, that treat her sympathetically or like she's not some horrifying monster/villain/etc was almost certain and is almost certainly miniscule.

So it's hardly 'apologia' or 'whitewashing' her to write a story where she doesn't do this. I've hardly read every old Worm fic or Worm thread but I'm all but certain it was more just Wildbow fundamentally not understanding his own fandom, and certainly not understanding fanfiction. I already have proof from his own reddit posts he fundamentally doesn't understand fanfiction, so...

I just don't get people, and I sure as fuck don't get Wildbow or his Cult.

#Kylia Reads Worm #Prey 14.6 #Amy Dallon #Anti-Wildbow

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wintercearig12 · 1 year ago

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Honestly, I find the surviving members of Skyrim’s Dark Brotherhood questline to be strange choices (except for Cicero). Don’t get me wrong, I love Nazir and Babette, but Festus and Gabriella (and to an extent Veezara) would have made for better, and more committed, members. My rationale for this lies in their views of the Night Mother and the old ways, which of course are resumed at the end of this questline.

When meeting Cicero, Festus plainly states: “Mister Cicero, I for one am delighted you and the Night Mother have arrived. Your presence here signals a welcome return to tradition." Afterwards, he will expand upon this point, further highlighting the importance of the Night Mother and the traditions that previously governed the Dark Brotherhood: "Their arrival is the best thing that's happened to this Sanctuary in years. Astrid is an effective leader, but we've been rudderless for too long. Scrounging for contracts, abandoning the Tenets. The Dark Brotherhood has been reduced to a group of common cutthroats. Frankly, it's embarrassing." Moreover, although he does display some displeasure at the Night Mother’s choice of the Dragonborn as her Listener, he nonetheless accepts the decision: "So you're the Listener, hmm? Well that hardly seems fair. You just got here. The Night Mother should have spoken to me. Any idiot could see that. But, I will serve gladly, as that's my lot in life.”

Gabriella is particularly courteous towards the Night Mother: "Without the Night Mother, there is no Dark Brotherhood. The Matron deserves our unwavering support and respect.” Although she is understandably cautious of the news that you have been chosen as Listener, she still acknowledges the significance of what this means for the Family: "If the Night Mother truly spoke to you, if you really are the Listener... your destiny was written in the Void. Astrid is right to fear your power." In this way, she is recognising the dominance of the Night Mother over Astrid. Similarly to Festus, she is jealous of the new Listener, but does not belittle the Dragonborn: "What an honor, the assassination of an Emperor. And all because you are the Listener, favored by the Night Mother, anointed by Sithis. I am so very happy for you. If not a bit... envious."

Veezara is harder to pinpoint. Although his commitment to Astrid could be seen as disrespectful towards the Night Mother, I do not think it is as clear cut as this. When asking his opinion of the Unholy Matron, he will state: "Truthfully? I'm not entirely sure. It's not that I don't have the utmost respect for Sithis, and the Night Mother, and the ancient ways. I do. But I've never been much for religion. I kill because it's what I've been trained to do. It's all I know. So long as Astrid is happy, I'm happy." In essence, he recognises and accepts the importance of the Night Mother, but, due to the circumstances of his life, he simply takes things at face value: Astrid gives him both purpose and family, and so he commits himself to her above all. This is understandable when considering the near extinction of his order, the Shadowscales, and the lack of direction from the Night Mother in previous years. As he says, his role in life is to kill, and Astrid provides the means for him to do so, all else has been lost, and is therefore negligible to him. He follows what he knows.

Nazir and Babette are comparatively disrespectful towards the Night Mother. After you are revealed as the Listener, Nazir will say: "You may be the Listener, or you may just be a lunatic who's started hearing voices. Either way, Astrid is still your mistress. Not the Night Mother.” When speaking to Babette after the arrival of Cicero, she will equally display a dismissive attitude: "Two hundred years ago, I would have lain down my life for the Unholy Matron. But that is an age long since passed. Astrid is my matron now."

Having said all this, it wouldn't surprise me if this was done on purpose. After all, this situation does remind me of Oblivion, and the fact that the Night Mother knew the traitor was not at the Cheydinhal Sanctuary, and that Lucien was innocent too. The Dark Brotherhood seems to have a running theme of losing its most devoted members.

#tes #the elder scrolls #skyrim #festus krex #gabriella #babette #veezara #Nazir #nazir skyrim #dark brotherhood #the dark brotherhood #my posts

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fangirls-fanfiction · 8 months ago

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Chapter 17

♦️𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚍♠️

Queen Dice opened the door ajar, looking out to her partner, patiently waiting for her to invite her in.

"It's just... It's a stupid thought." Queen Dice sighed, her gaze drifting to the floor.

"It's not stupid," Luci frowned. "What's bothering you? You can tell me."

Dice hesitated. What were the odds that her Boss would understand? That she wouldn't lash out and get defensive about her past. She wasn't exactly one to be good at admitting her wrongdoings.

Even so, Dice was aware that ever since the 'good for nothing lackey' incident, the Devil had been treating her very differently. Respectfully. She took her and her emotions seriously.

Maybe, just maybe, she'd understand.

"Why don't you come in?" Queen Dice opened the door further, without a word, Luci nodded and did as she was told.

They sat at the edge of her bed, Lucifer gently taking her hand, patiently waiting for her to explain everything.

"I've just been thinking recently... The whole reason I started working for you was from a life or death situation... I had no choice but to sign your contract..." Dice started, taking notice of the demon's ears drooping ever so slightly.

She looked like a puppy almost, ashamed of causing a mess and getting yelled at for it. Even so, she didn't say anything. Not so much as a peep. Stll, she kept quiet and listened to what Dice had to say.

"That's how it was for years... I was just an employee under a contract. The first few years I worked for you, you hardly spoke to me unless it was to yell at me; when I was successful, you only gave me one chance before knocking me down again... And that was the cycle for a long time..."

"I know I've been a real pain in the ass in the past..." The Devil finally spoke.

"Just when I think things are going my way, something or someone blows it, and I lose all the respect I had from you... It's disheartening... I guess..." She stopped. "I— I want to know that you're going to take this relationship seriously. That if I mess up, you won't cut me off like you did before."

"I won't. I promise." The Devil reassured her.

"So this relationship... What we have... Is it just built on a contract?" Dice continued.

"I wouldn't have met you if I didn't make a deal with you." The demon replied. "But I mean... Yes, in the past..."

Queen Dice began getting tense, the waterworks threatening to burst as her Boss continued.

"I know I've made far too many mistakes in the past... I called you names, I treated you badly... I was awful to you... Truthfully, I have no idea why someone like you would go out with someone like me... But despite all my faults and mistakes... You gave me the one in a million chance... I don't want to mess it up."

Luci paused, her gaze going unfocused as she got lost in thought. Turning her attention back to Dice, she opened her mouth, hesitant to ask;

"Do you... Do you still want to work for me?"

"What?"

"Your contract. I can— I— I can go and rip up your contract right now, you'd be free. Would that make you happy? Would it make up for everything I've done?"

That single question cleared the air for Dice. She understood perfectly now that things had changed. She wasn't just an easily replaceable pawn in the Devil's game. Luci cared about her now, she wanted her to be happy, even if it meant sacrificing her best worker and potentially losing her girlfriend.

Queen Dice couldn't help but smile, touching Luci's face before giving her a kiss on the cheek.

"Of course not, I love working for you. I wouldn't want things any other way. Just knowing that you're willing to change for me is all I needed." She said, making the demon smile. "Besides, someone's gotta keep this place up and running."

The Devil immediately frowned, her ears shooting back slightly as she glared at the other.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding."

"Good."

♠️ ♠️ ♠️

Midday, the sisters had found themselves wanting to go on yet another adventure. This time with their new companion, Lucas, they went upstairs, running through the Casino to the front doors. As came with every game they played, they weren't paying attention to their surroundings. They certainly didn't expect to run into someone while heading to the front door.

"Hey!" Cuphead snapped after they'd been knocked down with the collision. "Watch where you're... Going..."

"Me?! You were the ones..." Ms. Wheezy angrily brushed off her clothes before her attention went to the girls. "Wait... Wait— I know you two. You're the little punks that raided the Casino a few years ago."

"We didn't raid the Casino, we just... Beat you guys up... And stole contracts..."

Ms. Wheezy raised an eyebrow.

"It's... It's completely different."

It wasn't a moment later, another familiar face entered the Casino. Stopping short at seeing the sisters, Chips Bettigan blinked as she stared, as if her mind couldn't connect the dots.

"Man, I think I drank too much... I'm starting to get hallucinations." She furrowed her eyebrows.

"It's not a hallucination, it's the two brats that kicked our asses."

"Well... I— I wasn't really tryin y'know... If I was, I woulda whipped both their asses in no time flat."

"What are you two doing here anyways?" Ms. Wheezy ignored what Chips had to say. "If the Devil catches sight of you, she'd have you for breakfast. And who knows what Dice would do after that. Christ, she was wasn't just upset about the contracts; we had to endure her loudly complaining about that chipped tooth you gave her." She rolled her eyes.

"How'd she even fix her chipped tooth?" Cuphead asked.

"One of life's greatest mysteries..." Chips replied.

"That still doesn't answer my question." Wheezy said.

"Well... It's a funny story, really..." Mugma'am chuckled. "Not funny haha but... We're staying here at the Casino for a bit..."

"Really?" Ms. Wheezy raised an eyebrow.

"God, they're so scared they're starting to get delusional." Chips frowned.

"It's true!" Cuphead snapped.

"Why should we believe you?!" Ms. Wheezy just snapped right back.

"You can go ask them yourself." Cuphead sassed her, Wheezy only rolling her eyes again.

"Yeah right. Right after they're finished making out in the Boss' office." Ms. Wheezy scoffed, walking past the girls.

"You walked in on them kissing once, Smokey." Chips followed close behind.

Cuphead and Mugma'am looked at each other, the latter shaking her head as the former smirked. Following the two ladies, they sat up on barstools as Chips and Wheezy prepared for their shift.

"So, what exactly do you guys do for fun around here?"

"You're underaged, you can't sit at the bar." Wheezy immediately said. "You shouldn't even be in the Casino in the first place. What are you like... Twelve?"

"17." The sisters said in unison.

"That would've made you..." Chips counted on her fingers. "You two were 13 when you gambled your souls?!"

"When Cuphead gambled our souls." Mugma'am corrected her, glaring at her sister.

"Why did Queen Dice even let you play?!" Chips asked.

"Well... I guess I did call her old when she greeted us at the door." Cuphead thought back.

"Yep, that'll do it." Wheezy's expression went deadpan. "Now go on, shoo!"

"But you didn't answer our question! What do you guys do for fun at the Casino?" Cuphead asked again.

"Well... There isn't much to do besides work..." Chips thought. "Personally, I like to play little pranks on the other workers."

"Nuh-uh! No way! I already have to deal with the likes of you! I am not letting you create two more menaces in this damned Casino!"

Chips rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, frowning. Ms. Wheezy shook her head turning to the last dirty dishes presumably from the night before and began cleaning them.

"So... If you don't mind me asking..." Mugma'am said. "How'd you two start working at the Casino in the first place?"

"I was in debt." Chips sat in a chair behind the counter and leaned back and relaxed. "I used the last bit of my money trying to gamble some big bucks and I was so close to winning that the Devil got jealous and took my soul."

Ms. Wheezy filled a glass full of water and splashed it over Chips. Immediately sitting up, she coughed and sputtered, shaking off her now soaked clothing.

"You mean you lost everything within just a few minutes and had no choice but to hand your soul over to the Devil."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I know I woulda won, Devil just doesn't like to lose and Dice cheats at every game she can weasel her lying ass into." Chips glared at the other, wringing out her blue hair.

"Now that's true."

Chips went back to relaxing in her chair, Wheezy throwing a rag straight at her face.

"Go make yourself useful and wipe down those tables."

"gO mAke YoUrSelF uSeFuLL aNd wiPe dOwN tHoSe TAblEs." Chips mocked her under her breath, Wheezy simply shaking her head.

"What about you, Ms. Wheezy? How'd you end up in the Casino?" Mugma'am asked.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Oh, come on, Wheezy, you told me! Get this, girls, her brother— "

Ms. Wheezy whipped around to face Chips, scorning her with the sharpest glare either of them had seen from anyone. Chips cowered slightly, going back to wiping down the tables.

"When we're on friend terms, I'll tell you, until then, keep your nose in your own business." Ms. Wheezy snapped at the girls.

"Wait, so... Does this mean you consider me a friend?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't deny it either~"

Ms. Wheezy groaned, shaking her head again.

"Wheezy and I are friends~" Chips teased in a sing-song voice.

She laughed loudly, leaning on a table as she watched Ms. Wheezy's anger build.

"We're practically besties, y'know." Chips snickered.

Ms. Wheezy whipped around to tell the other off before the Devil beat her to it;

"Bettigan, you'd better not be slacking again." She snapped and she strutted through the Casino.

"Of course not, ma'am." Chips stood up straight, going back to wiping down tables.

"And you two, away from the bar, you're underaged for Hellfire's sake!" She turned to the girls. "And get that mutt before it rips my curtains!"

They immediately got down from the bar stools, their attention turning to Lucas gnawing and tugging on the crimson curtains by the windows.

"Where are you going?" Cuphead asked as the demon stopped short in the Casino's doorway.

"Places. Don't follow me." Lucifer was short with her as she walked out the door.

Looking at one another, the sisters smirked at each other before they went to follow her.

"I wouldn't do that." Wheezy caught their attention once more. "'Places' usually means she's going off to make a transaction. And usually they get pretty ugly."

"Did you know she once took down a five person gang?!" Chips chirped in.

"The point is, wherever the Devil is, trouble isn't far behind. Personally, I'd stay clear of her."

"Do you even know the Devil?" Cuphead crossed her arms.

Ms. Wheezy turned to face her, Mugma'am immediately pushing her sister to the Hellevator before things could escalate.

"God, she's still a bitch." Cuphead muttered under her breath as they rode the Hellevator down.

"I mean... She's gotta point..." Mugma'am sighed. "She is the Devil. She has no reason to care for us..."

Cuphead's gaze lowered to the ground. This was painfully true. No matter how much they wished it to happen, this would never be home. After this month was up, they'd surely be kicked right out of the Casino and left to fend for themselves.

The Devil didn't want them around and no one could blame her.

#fanfiction #welcome back to the casino au #cuphead au #genderbend #humanized au #the devil cuphead #queen dice #devildice #luci morningstar #cuphead #mugma’am #cup sisters #ms. wheezy #chips bettigan #tw swearing

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