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ell0ra-br3kk3r-writes · 8 months

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The Phoenix and the Crow

part nineteen

pairing: kaz brekker x fem!reader

genre: neutral

el's thoughts: 19!! my brain isn't understanding haha hope you enjoy!

series masterlist

Y/N made a sound of disgust, her contempt for the Fjerdan clear, and the Zemeni man next to the inferni stopped fidgeting, his mouth falling slightly ajar. Kaz, however, didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he looked pleased.

“I can give you something better,” said Kaz.

Doubt and suspicion swam in Matthias’ eyes. “There is nothing else I want.”

“I can make you druskelle again.”

“Are you a magician, then? A wej sprite who grants wishes? I’m superstitious, not stupid.”

“You can be both, you know, but that’s hardly the point.” Kaz slipped a gloved hand into his dark coat. “Here,” he said. And gave a piece of paper to the inferni. She brought the paper up to his face for him to read. The document was written in Kerch and Fjerdan. Matthias’ eyes scanned over the paper that had statements of a release due in his favor. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What evidence?”

Kaz leaned back in his chair. “It seems Nina Zenik has recanted her statements. She will face charges of perjury.”

“Perjury? How long will you serve for that, Zenik?”

“Two months,” she said quietly.

“Two months?” Matthias laughed cruelly, his body twitching as if he’d been poisoned.

The others watched him with some concern.

“Just how crazy is he?” Jesper asked, fingers drumming on the pearl handles of his precious revolvers.

Y/N shrugged. “He’s not what I’d call reliable, but he’s all we’ve got apparently.”

Once Matthias got over his laughing fit he cleared his throat. “She can’t be trusted, you know,” he said to Kaz. “Whatever secrets you hope to gain from Bo Yul-Bayur, she’ll turn them over to Ravka.”

Y/N clenched her fists, but before she could say anything Kaz jumped to the defence. “Let me worry about that, Helvar. You do your part, and the secrets of Yul-Bayur and jurda parem will be in the hands of the people best equipped to make sure they stay rumors.”

Y/N eyed Kaz cautiously as she wondered who he planned on handing the drug and chemist over to. There are things that he has kept in the dark and she knew it would come to sneak up on them later if he didn’t bring it to light.

After a bit more of going back and forth Matthias finally agreed to Kaz’s terms.

“We’re going to untie you,” said Kaz. “I hope prison hasn’t robbed you of all your manners or good sense.”

Matthias nodded and Y/N pulled out a knife to cut him free of the ropes that binded him. “I believe you know Nina,” Kaz continued. “The lovely girl freeing you is Y/N L/N, our own personal Ravkan soldier and the best in the trade. Jesper Fahey is our sharpshooter, Zemeni-born but try not to hold it against him, and this is Wylan, the best demolitions expert in the Barrel.”

A rag tag group who had taken the world by storm while they helped save it from the darkest of shadows. Now challenged to take on the biggest heist of their lives. None of them entirely prepared for what came next but they all had their motives. Righteous and good-willed or greedy and selfish, they all had one goal and they hoped it’d be strong enough to hold them together.

“Besides, Wylan isn’t just good with the flint and fuss. He’s our insurance.” Kaz spoke while avoiding eye contact with Y/N.

“Against what?” Nina asked.

“Meet Wylan Van Eck,” said Kaz Brekker as the boy’s cheeks flooded crimson. “Jan Van Eck’s son and our guarantee on four million kruge.”

Jesper stared at Wylan. “You’re a Councilman’s kid? I mean that explains everything… Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes had grown soft and filled with hurt.

Wylan was red-faced and mortified. Nina looked stunned and irritated. The Fjerdan just seemed confused. Kaz appeared utterly pleased with himself. Y/N glared hard at the side of Dirtyhand’s face.

Wylan’s mouth opened and closed, his throat working. “You knew?” he asked Kaz miserably.

Kaz leaned back in his chair, one knee bent, his bad leg stretched out before him. “Why do you think I’ve been keeping you around?”

“I’m good at demo.”

“You’re passable at demo. You’re excellent at hostage.”

That was cruel, but that was Kaz. And the Barrel was a far rougher teacher than Kaz could ever be. At least this explained why Kaz had been coddling Wylan and brought him on an insanely important job.

The plan in Y/N’s head tilted sideways. Wylan was a hostage. Van Eck was paying Kaz for this heist. He lied to her. Not directly, but he withheld the information.

The bastard continued to make his point of Wylan not really being fit for this line of work. Jesper sat silently with a dazed look in his eyes while Wylan looked like a kicked puppy. Y/N felt uneasy about the whole situation.

“Since Wylan has seen the Ice Court with his very own eyes,” Kaz spoke, “he can keep you honest, Helvar.”

The Fjerdan scowled furiously, and Wylan looked a little ill.

“Don’t worry,” Nina said. “The glower isn’t lethal.”

Kaz tapped his cane on the polished wood floor. “Take out your pen and proper paper, Wylan. Let’s put Helvar to work.”

Wylan reached into the satchel that sat between the sharpshooter and himself. He pulled out a slender roll of butcher’s paper followed by a metal case that held an expensive-looking pen and ink set.

“Start talking,” Kaz said to the Fjerdan. “It’s time to pay the rent.”

Matthias directed his furious gaze at Kaz. Definitely a mighty glower. It was almost fun to watch him pit it against Kaz’s sharklike stare.

Finally, the Fjerdan shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “The concentric circles, like the rings of a tree.” The words came slowly, as if speaking each one was causing him pain.

The merchling and Fjerdan went back and forth on describing the Ice Court, each one fact checking and correcting the other. They explained each level of defence and the coordinating colored protical. Where the prison cells were and where they’d most likely find Bo Yul-Bayur.

“Hringkalla is coming up,” Nina said suddenly.

“Be silent,” Matthias snapped.

“Pray, don’t,” said Kaz.

“Hringkalla. It’s the Day of Listening, when the new druskelle are initiated on the White Island.” Y/N spoke up.

Matthias’ knuckles flexed white. “You have no right to speak of those things. They’re holy.”

“They’re facts. The Fjerdan royals throw a huge party with guests from all over the world, and plenty of the entertainment comesstraight from Ketterdam.”

“Entertainment?” Kaz asked.

“Actors, dancers, a Komedie Brute troupe, and the best talent from the pleasure houses of West Stave.”

“I thought Fjerdans didn’t go in for that sort of thing,” said Jesper.

Nina’s lips quirked. “You’ve never seen Fjerdan soldiers on the Staves?”

“I meant when they’re at home,” Jesper said.

“It’s the one day a year they all stop acting so miserable and actually let themselves have a good time,” Nina replied. “Besides, “only the druskelle live like monks.”

Matthias and the heartrender kept going back and forth, each picking and poking with their words, trying to get a reaction out of each other. Y/N rolled her eyes at the pair in both annoyance and a teasing manner.

“When does this party take place?” Kaz interrupted.

“It’s seasonal,” Nina said, “on the spring equinox.”

“Two weeks from today.” noted Y/N.

Kaz cocked his head to one side, his eyes focused on something in the distance.

“Scheming face,” Jesper whispered to Y/N.

She nodded. “Definitely.”

Kaz inquired about the White Rose sending any delegations. Nina replied, saying she didn’t know anything.

Kaz leaned back. “What’s the easiest way to steal a man’s wallet?”

“Knife to the throat?” Y/N asked.

“Gun to the back?” said Jesper.

“Poison in his cup?” suggested Nina.

“You’re all horrible,” said Matthias.

Kaz rolled his eyes. “The easiest way to steal a man’s wallet is to tell him you’re going to steal his watch. You take his attention and direct it to where you want it to go.” He continued to explain how Hringkalla will do the job for them. They’ll take advantage of the chaos that is hosting such a large gathering of people. “They can’t be looking everywhere at once.” He started to construct his plan of them sneaking into the prison as criminals.

“Let me get this straight,” said Jesper. “You want us to let the Fjerdans lock us up in jail. Isn’t that what we’re always trying to avoid?”

“Criminal identities are slippery. It’s one of the perks of being a member of the troublemaking class. They’ll be counting heads at the prison gate, looking at names and crimes, not checking passports or examining embassy seals.”

“Because no one wants to go to pricon,” Jesper said.

Nina rubbed her hands over her wrists, “I don’t want to be locked up in a Fjerdan cell.” Y/N nodded her agreement.

Kaz flicked his sleeve, and two slender rods of metal appeared between his fingers. They danced over his knuckles then vanished once more.

“Lockpicks?” Y/N asked.

“You let me take care of the cells,” said Kaz.

“Hit where the mark isn’t looking,” mused the inferni.

“That’s right,” nodded Kaz. “And the Ice Court is like any other mark, one big white pigeon ready for the plucking.”

Anticipation mixed with fear and excitement settled in the room as Y/N looked around at the other crows.

Matthias folded his huge arms and said, “You have no idea what you’re up against.”

“But you do, Helvar. I want you working on the plan of the Ice Court every minute until we sail. Mo detail is too small or inconsequential. I’ll be checking on you regularly.”

Y/N traced her fingers over the rough sketch Wylan drew out. “It really does look like the rings of a tree.”

“No,” said Kaz. “It looks like a target.”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n #six of crows #six of crows imagines #six of crows x reader #ellora.writes

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mosylufanfic · 7 months

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Rebelcap Whumptober Day 2

I went with the prompt in the title because I just loved it so much!

I’ll call out your name (but you won’t call back)

The first thing he heard was the monotonous beep of a heart monitor, slowly speeding up as he came to full consciousness.

The first thing he realized was that he couldn't move his arms or his legs.

"Easy!" said a voice. "Easy, easy. It's not permanent. We had to give you a paralytic."

He stared up at the strange face hovering over his. Twi'lek, he registered. He wasn't a prisoner of the Empire, then.

Of course, that didn't mean he was among friends, either.

"I couldn't have you thrashing around and undoing all my hard work," the Twi'lek went on.

He made a questioning noise.

"I had to brace your back to keep the spine immobile, remove your spleen and your appendix, set several ribs and vertebrae, and pump in a lot of synthblood. You're not entirely out of the woods but you may be seeing daylight. Do you know where you are?"

Scarif, he thought, but no. That was where he'd been.

The last thing he remembered was kneeling on the beach, Jyn in his arms, holding onto her as his internal injuries and the shock wave of the boiling ocean raced each other to kill him first. And the burning point of her kyber crystal, pressed between them -

How he had gotten from there to here was a mystery he couldn't even begin to solve.

Jyn. Where was Jyn? Dead? Somewhere else in this facility? He tried to look around but there was some kind of brace keeping his head immobilized. All he could see was a rough pourstone ceiling, pitted and stained with age, and some of the area around the foot of his bed. That wasn't any more informational - just pourstone wall and a jumble of medical-supply crates, long expired if their labeling was anything to go by.

"You're on Tamsye Prime," the medic informed him.

Tamsye Prime, he thought. Why was that important? Why was that ringing the most distant of alarms?

When he tried to reach for it, pain burst in his midsection like a bomb, and a groan escaped his throat.

"Sorry, let's get these meds dialed up." A couple of clicks, and something cool began to spread through his veins from a spot in his elbow.

"What are you doing?" said a second voice. "She wanted to know when he woke up."

"I'm checking him first." A straw nudged at his mouth, and he instinctively jerked his head away. "It's water," the medic said.

He considered pulling away again, but his throat was dust-dry and a coughing fit might tear him open. And this medic didn't seem the type to poison him after working so hard to put him back together. He accepted the drink, holding most of it in his mouth to trickle as gently as possible down his throat.

"Right away, she said."

"I'll comm her in a moment."

The painkiller started to take effect, blurring the knife edges of the pain into spiky clouds. He thought about asking for it to get dialed down again. He didn't like to be fuzzy. But he wasn't sure he could form coherent words.

Jyn, he thought. Jyn.

A click and a buzz and the second voice said, "Yeah, he's awake."

"Kriff you," said the medic.

"I'm not presenting my ass to be kicked along with yours," said the second voice.

He lost time then, awareness blurring in and out until a door swished open. The mysterious Her.

"Everybody out," said a voice. It had the mechanical edge of a vocoder, distorting it from original.

Shuffling and murmurs as people exited.

"Everybody means everybody," said the vocoder'd voice.

"Kest - " the medic said in a pleading voice.

"Do I have to say it again?"

A pause, and one last set of footsteps, and the hiss of the door.

He scrabbled through the clouds in his head to pull his thoughts together and work out what to do.

Was this Jyn?

The aggression tracked. But why would she be wearing a vocoder? Unless she was trying to disguise herself from whoever it was that had them.

"You awake?" said the voice, now clearly addressing him.

He let his eyelids flutter in confusion that wasn't entirely feigned.

"I'm turning down your painkiller drip so you're clearheaded enough to talk," she went on. "Of course, that means the pain will come back, too. If I like what you have to say, I'll turn your meds back up."

No. It couldn't be. Not talking to him like this.

He was pretty sure.

He waited long enough for the clouds to clear to the edges and then allowed his eyelids to slide open.

"Took you long enough," said the voice.

She was staying to one side of his head, correctly guessing that with his neck braced, his field of vision was severely limited. Anything he could use to guess at age and species were disguised by the vocoder, of course. Gender, too, if he hadn't heard the pronouns the medics used.

But he had the feeling that, like many inexperienced interrogators, this one was letting the vocoder do the work and didn't realize the kind of information he could extract from what it left behind.

Like a Core accent, there in the syllabic emphasis, the rising and falling tones of the sentences.

Like -

No, it wasn't her.

He didn't think.

"What's your name?"

He flicked through aliases like flimsicards. "Aach," he managed. "Clem Aach."

"Hmm. Where do you come from, Clem Aach?"

"Ogem," he said. Mid-Rim, far enough away from Scarif so that if the Empire were searching for them - and the Empire had to be searching for them - it might throw these people off the scent.

"How did you get here?"

"Crash," he said.

"Crashed in what? We didn't find any wreckage. Anywhere. "

He made a puzzled face, as if the lack of his entirely fictitious spacecraft was a surprise to him as well. "Crashed," he said again.

Silence for a moment, as if she thought he might change his mind about that. He waited it out with the patience of one who used silence like a scalpel.

Soon, much sooner than he would have, she went on, "I was the one who found you. In a rock canyon just outside our perimeter."

"Thank - you," he managed. A little politeness sometimes went a long way, and if he played this right, they might think he was some gormless civilian in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"You were saying a name," the voice said.

"I was?"

"That name is why I brought you back. You think we waste resources on every broken wreck of a being we find in the wastes? I want to know where you heard that name."

"Don't know," he lied. "Maybe - delirious?" That was possibly not a lie. Given the extent of his injuries, and his lack of memory, he could have been delirious. He hoped he hadn't dropped anything other than Jyn's name.

Because who else would he have been calling out for?

"Handy," the voice said.

Stalemate. He wasn't willing to betray Jyn's identity, she wasn't willing to give him anything to go on.

And yet, his captor had already heard him. If he admitted to it, maybe they could get somewhere. Even if "somewhere" was knowing how he'd ended up here.

"Could - have - could have been 'Jyn,'" he said.

Silence again. This time, calm and considering, like she was working out which of his fingers or toes to slice off first. "Jyn Erso," she said.

Hells. He had said her full name. Maybe in response to someone. That wasn't like him.

Reluctantly - "Maybe."

The footsteps again, traversing the length of his bed. Slowly, his interrogator stepped into view.

It was Jyn.

And it wasn't.

Her face was different - rounder in some parts, sharper in others. Her mouth was softer and fuller, most of the lines and shadows around her eyes missing, some scars vanished, only smooth skin in their place. And there was no recognition in her eyes as she looked at him. Just suspicion.

Her eyes cut to the heart monitor, whose high beeps matched the sudden galloping pace of his heart. "So you do know who I am," she said.

He made a noise of partial assent, still staring dumbfounded. If the girl in front of him was a day older than sixteen, he'd walk into the nearest Imperial base and give himself up right now.

"Good," she said. "We've got that out of the way." She stepped out of his line of sight again, and he stared at the ceiling, trying to feel his way through a situation that had suddenly gotten a lot stranger - and it hadn't been particularly normal in the first place.

Tamsye Prime.

Sixteen-year-old Jyn. Clearly not going by her original name, and not willing for anyone else to hear it, even in the Partisans - for that had to be who the others had been.

Impossible.

The dial of the medication clicked again, two times. Three. Downward, as there was no cool rush into his elbow again.

"Now," she said very softly. "Who sent you?"

FINIS

Inspired by the woooorrrrrrld of difference between Felicity Jones as Catherine Morland and Felicity Jones as Jyn Erso.

#Jyn Erso #Cassian Andor #rebelcaptain #rcwhumptober #fanfiction #mosylufanfic lives up to her damn name #Cassian is extremely beaten up #and among strangers #but don't discount our boy yet #star wars #search your feelings you know it to be queue

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nebulablakemurphy · 9 months

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Way Down We Go (Part 2)

Summary: Y/N and Daryl follow a dead end that leads them to wash up on the shores of France. While their daughter takes an impromptu trip to the big city, in hopes of saving her childhood friend. Warning: cannon typical violence and Dead City/Walking Dead/Daryl Dixon spoilers.

Part 1

“Where ya rushin’ off to?” Bryan smirks, his knife held at Y/N’s throat.

He seemed like an alright guy when they first started traveling with his group. Not so much now.

“We don’t want no trouble. Just lookin’ for our friends.” Daryl says, calmly. His crossbow is aimed, poised and ready, he might make the shot. But he won’t risk it, not with her standing right there.

“I thought we were friends, pretty.” He cooes, into Y/N’s ear.

Friends don’t creep around each other’s tents in the middle of the night to spy on them. “We appreciate your hospitality, but we really need to keep moving.” Y/N tells him.

“No.” The man shakes his head. “Take off your shoes. Stay a while.”

Daryl keeps his eyes trained on his mark. “I don’t think so.”

“It’s a real shame it had to end this way.” The other man clicks his tongue. “I really did like ya.”

“Please, just let us go.” Y/N pleads.

“Tell your boyfriend to drop his bow.” The man demands. “Then we’ll talk about this. I’m sure you can be very persuasive.”

Y/N huffs, “he’s not my boyfriend.” Stomping down on his foot as her elbow lands in his gut. Knocking the wind from him.

Bryan loses his balance and the knife comes down, slicing her leg in the process.

“Get ta tha boat.” Daryl says, holding Bryan at the point of his arrow.

They need to be out of here before his real friends show up.

“Bon Voyage, asshole.” Y/N growls, pulling herself upright.

————————————————————————

They leave the girl, Ginny, back at Hilltop. She’ll be safe there. She doesn’t speak, not since her father was killed, Negan took her in.

Then Maggie, Carol, Negan and Sophie high tail it up towards Manhattan. Stealing a guy’s boat and taking him hostage to sail it. Turns out, he’s one of those Marshals, looking for Negan. Together they broach the entrance of the dead city.

“Never thought I’d get this close to seeing Lady Liberty in the flesh.” Negan huffs, staring out at the ruins.

“Not from ‘round here?” The girl, trailing behind him, inquires. Not that she really cares, but there’s not enough history between them for her to hate him the way Maggie does. And the silence is deafening.

“Virginia, born and raised. You?”

“I was born in a prison.” Sophie raises a shoulder, her Y/H/C hair shifting in it’s ponytail.

“Ain’t that some shit, kid.” Negan remarks.

“It was hardly a prison by then, try compound.” Carol interjects.

“It was a prison, Grandma.” Her parents used to tell her stories about it. How she was named after her mother’s little sister, who didn’t live long enough to see it. Sophie was the second baby born there, almost a year after Judith. They’re both grown now. Adults by all accounts of the old world. Still, when she wants to do anything even remotely dangerous, Carol follows…or her mom…or her dad. “But tomato, tomoto I guess.”

Y/N and Daryl are…different. As parents, they were fair, never came down too hard on her. Her father is an outdoor cat who learned to survive indoors. Her mother is the opposite.

They met at the first camp Rick’s group ever had and the rest is history. To this day they grumble when people ask what they are to each other, or assume that they are together, or worse; married.

They are Y/N and Daryl. That’s all.

Growing up, Sophie always thought they were in love. At least in the way she perceived love to be. Her father would come home after a long day and cling to her mother like it was the first and last time he’d see her for years. Sometimes her mother would cling. But it was rare and often meant that something was wrong.

He let Y/N drive his bike on occasion, hollering all the while, “watch where ya goin’, girl!”

Otherwise her father is a quiet man, her mother is more outspoken. And though Daryl Dixon is more than capable, Y/N Peletier never hesitates to put anyone who messes with him in their place.

They each lost two siblings to this world. One by blood, another forged in the fires of the apocalypse. Merle and Sophia both turned, a pain Y/N and Daryl both understood.

When Y/N lost Glenn, there was something to bury. A way to lay him to rest, with the promise of caring for the family he left behind. Daryl still blames himself for it, even though Y/N never did.

When Daryl lost Rick there was nothing left. No body, no closure…he spent weeks, months, years looking for him. Trying to get back a piece of what he lost. Daryl blames himself for that too.

Leaving their only child behind was not a decision they made lightly. But Sophie is old enough to make her own choices and she’s never been a risk taker. Staying in a place that’s familiar, versus abandoning it for the great unknown was a no brainer.

Which only adds to the irony of her current situation. Sophie and Carol on a mission with Maggie and Negan himself, to rescue Hershel from some guy called the Croat.

Sophie knows that without Hershel, Maggie will lose herself and her mother will lose them both. Severing the final tie between Y/N and Glenn that she’s clung to for all this time.

She would start chasing ghosts too.

————————————————————————

Aaron told Daryl a long time ago, that he could tell a good person from a bad one. Daryl doesn’t know if that’s true anymore, but this last group was not good people.

“I ain’t yer boyfriend, huh?” Daryl attempts to distract Y/N as he tends her wound.

“Boyfriends and girlfriends break up,” she bites out.

“Could marry me.”

“Daryl…” Y/N balls her hands into fists. Fighting the urge to push him away, as he applies pressure to her thigh, to stop the bleeding.

“Damnit, girl, stop movin’.” Daryl growls.

“Fuck,” she shakes her head. “We’re fucked.” There goes any chance of getting home.

“Why don’t ya say it a little louder, maybe it’ll help.” He lets up slightly when her hand rests over his.

Her lips pressed together to contain the sound of her suffering.

“Lemme see.”

Y/N removes her hand and his. The muscles of her afflicted leg spasming of their own accord. “It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Yer gonna live.” Daryl murmurs, prodding around the gash. “Needs stitches though.”

Thunder cracks down, booming behind dark clouds in the overcast sky.

Y/N can’t help but laugh as the first drops of rain hit her upturned cheek. There’s a storm brewing and they’re stuck bobbing in the middle of nowhere.

“Now we’re fucked.” Daryl grumbles, under his breath.

“Did you mean it?” Y/N wonders. “What you said?”

“Ya want me ta beg?” This isn’t the first time he’s asked her to marry him.

“No,” she decides.

“No?” He rears back. She always reasons her way around it, that’s never bothered him. There was some understanding that they’d spend the rest of their lives together.

“No, to the begging,” Y/N clarifies, “yes, to…the other thing.”

Daryl huffs a laugh, “took ya long enough.”

“Shut up,” Y/N scoffs.

Twenty years well spent.

————————————————————————

Bang!

The sound is odd, too loud to be a gunshot, too quiet to be an explosion.

“Tha hell?”

A walker, then another. Hitting empty cars that litter the streets beside them.

“This way!” Maggie calls as they run for cover.

“Walkers are falling from the sky now?” Negan roars, in disbelief.

“The high rise buildings…they must’ve heard us and walked right off the edge.” Carol reason, following the others to safety.

There’s more walkers, piling up at the glass doors behind them. They need to move. There’s an opening with a scaffolding, just across the way. They’ll have to make a run for it.

“We should go now,” Sophie insists. “Clear the bottom floor, can’t just stand here with our asses hangin’ out.”

Part 3

#way down we go #twd fic #daryl x you #daryl imagines #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #daryl dixion imagine #daryl x y/n #daryl x reader #daryl dixion x reader #twd daryl #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #negan smith #maggie rhee #carol petelier

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tmnt-obsessed-ace · 10 months

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What if the events of Lost But Never Found (your au with the amnesiac 2012 Leo turned battle nexus champion) happened in the same universe as Ghost In The Shell (SAINW Donnie adopting the rise kids) how would Ghost react to that?

Oho :)

Imagine being Ghost for a second. You and your family just managed to send the Shredder back to its Prison Dimension (or at least you hope that Big Mama would keep her word on that, but knowing her its honestly a gamble) and as you're going home, Leo suddenly runs ahead yelling that they need to hurry, they need to go help Indigo. Who the hell is Indigo?

Well when you and your family get back Leo hurries to the medbay, and you naturally follow him.

Only to see another mutant turtle wearing strange armor and wraps, badly injured, covered in so many scars, barely conscious and most importantly, holding a knife to Donnie's throat.

Well he is until he passes out from bloodloss and exhaustion.

How are you even supposed to process that?

Once he's out of the of the armor (so many more scars were hidden underneath) and bandaged up, a blood test is drawn.

And it turns out that not only is this turtle actually a mutant, but a biological match to Hamato Yoshi.

Aka Splinter.

Even worse, this kid says he's been fighting in the Battle Nexus quote "For as long as I can remember" (which for Indigo/Leo is only 4 months. He's been in this dimension for 4 months and he cant remember anything before the 4 months so... :3)

Ghost is devastated. This...this is one of his kids. One of his children was forced to fight in the Battle Nexus for so long that he doesnt remember anything from before the Nexus. (not really but thats the only conclusion you could draw based on the many MANY scars it makes sense to come to that conclusion)

How did this happen? Did Draxum make another turtle using Splinter's DNA? Or was Indigo created at the same time as the others? If so why did he get left behind? How did he end up in the Nexus and in Big Mama's clutches?

Did...did Draxum sell Indigo to Big Mama? Or just give him up? Did Big Mama have Indigo trained purely to fight in the Nexus? She's clearly not above putting loved ones in the arena, she did it to Splinter already.

Still raising a child just to make him fight to the death? Thats so unbelievably evil and cruel. Ghost thought Big Mama wouldnt stoop that low.

But the scars covering Indigo's body (some of which are several YEARS old), the pure exhaustion in his strange eyes, the pure survival instincts so deeply ingrained into this kid is all the proof you need.

Can he even be called a kid? He looks older than the kids, even older than Raph. Indigo looks like he's 18-20 at the minimum...but if he's truly been fighting in the Battle Nexus for years it would make sense for him to look much older than he actually is.

Ghost understands, god he understands, in the Battle Nexus every fight is life or death, kill or be killed. Recovering from that ordeal is beyond difficult. And Indigo has presumably been in the Battle Nexus for much loger than Ghost has.

So I can imagine that Ghost would be the most patient while trying to help Indigo adjust now that not every moment is a fight to survive. (Especially when dealing with Indigo's very murdery tendencies. If Indigo feels like you are a threat to either himself or his brothers there is a very HIGH chance you will end up dead. He became one of the top FIVE battle nexus fighters for a reason.His current body count is 301 for a reason)

But Ghost is also the most protective over the new family member. (You thought Ghost was motherhening the Rise kids wait till he starts with Indigo. If Big Mama or Draxum even look at Indigo they better pick a god and pray. Indigo is still healing and Ghost will be damned if he lets his new child suffer anymore than he already had too.)

Indigo is basically Ghost's worst fear for the Rise kids come true. A kid who lost his entire childhood fighting battles that werent his and didnt have a choice in the matter. He didnt get to be a kid.

And now Indigo has dozens of scars, physical and mental, all because of Big Mama being a selfish asshole and force her own child to become a battle nexus champion

But...things will start to make Ghost question how true his current theory is. Like for example, Indigo is physically different from the Rise kids. (Short and stocky, round three toed feet) the strange nightmares that start becoming more and more frequent as time goes on (and oddly specific too, like sinking in the ocean, helmet exploding in outer space, getting attacked by a metal monster in the winter, getting thrown through a window, decapitating a metal and bone monster) the fact that he primarily uses twin katanas as weapons, little mannerisms that keeping showing up that remind Ghost too much of Leonardo.

And the gaps in the story dont help. How old was Indigo when he first started fighting in the Battle Nexus? Who trained him before that (because it is OBVIOUS that Indigo has gotten formal training that the Battle Nexus would provide) why doesnt Indigo recognize Draxum? Why doesnt Draxum know who Indigo even is? Why does Indigo act so much like Leonardo sometimes that its uncanny?

Too many things dont add up about that story

However unlike Donnie, Ghost can understand keeping secrets (he has so, so many secrets) so he doesnt try to pry too much. But he cant help but wonder what exactly happened to Indigo

Little does Ghost know, that Indigo already has a family thats looking for their big brother...

(@bluepeachstudios I borrowed ghost for a second, also love GITS its one of my favorite fics now)

#tmnt 2012 #rottmnt #ghost in the shell #tmnt ghost in the shell #short answer Indigo would be adopted on sight

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thewardenofwinter · 1 year

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Give No Quarter: The Marauder's Mutiny| Novel Introduction

“Every pyrate's path ends at the same destination: The Gallows.”

“You trap yourself on a wooden tub for weeks on end and risk death every day from a noose around your neck, sickness, and starvation… for what? Fortune? Fame? For the sake of rebellion?” “Because the moment you hoist that black flag in the air— you don’t belong to no one but yourself. You need not heel to any king, nor government, nor God. On this ship, when every day you decide between your fellow crewmates' lives, your captain's orders, or your own skin: you are God.”

Give No Quarter: The Marauder's Mutiny is the first installment in the Gold, Gods, and Gunpowder series. Set in 1773, this thrilling tale inspired by the true history of pirates follows the charismatic rogue Adam Bonny, grandson of the late Anne Bonny and Calico Jack, and Circe, a mysterious woman with more secrets than even she is aware of, in their escapades across the high seas.

Join these two unlikely allies in their ventures through merriment, misery, and magic. Meet some friendly (and not so friendly) faces, pillage and plunder to your heart’s content, and sharpen your cutlasses: for their story is just about to begin.

GENRE: fantasy fiction, historical fiction, adventure fiction

WORD COUNT: 150k

STATUS: final edits

POV: Dual POV, first person

SYNOPSIS:

After a run-in with the lawmen that leaves pirate captain Adam Bonny and his colleagues captured with their map stolen, Adam will do just about anything to get his hands back on that precious parchment and break his friends out of their chains. In a brash effort to escape, Adam joins forces with the mysterious Circe in return for her freedom as well. Circe, though mistrusting of Adam, is left with no other choice but to ally herself with the deceptive rogue because she too is running out of time to free herself from the shackles of her captor.

But their problems don't just end in their escape. A mutiny among Adam's faction comes to light that could cost many men their lives, and Circe's chance for answers behind her imprisonment is beginning to slip through her fingers. Hellbent on revenge at any cost, both Adam and Circe throw themselves overboard into each other's worlds, unsure of whether they will sink or swim.

PLOT:

—ADAM BONNY

CHARMING, TRICKY, AND DEVLISHLY HANDSOME CAPTAIN ADAM BONNY has gotten himself into yet another sticky situation: one that doesn't just come at the cost of his life this time. A failed promise, an ambush, a stolen map, and a mutiny among their faction leave Adam and his allies in the hands of the French, captured inside of their fort and awaiting a noose around their neck in two weeks' time. But unlike his brothers at arms who’ve all but given up on the prospect of their freedom after all this time, Adam has never been one to give up easily: for better or for worse.

Just as they walk to the gallows, a lifeline appears before Adam in the form of a mysterious woman who promises his escape in exchange for hers as well. She’s terrifyingly beautiful, callously cruel, and her wit is as sharp as the knife she holds to his throat. She poses a bargain that he can’t refuse, though he has no intention of completing his half, only focused on completing his own goals. While in prison Adam learns that their capture was no mere coincidence: one of their own men sold them out for a reason that they do not know.

Once he and his friends have escaped their respective situations, Adam is left with one goal: to take out James Kruger for his crimes against their faction. But this plan is jeopardised when he learns that one of Kruger's men has come aboard his ship with the intention to kill him first. With no other option, he turns back to the very woman who assisted his escape in the first place. He's hesitant to let a woman aboard, let alone one who has tried to kill him half a dozen times, but Circe might just be the exact person he needs aboard his ship to snuff out the traitor that threatens to bring down their pirate faction once and for all.

— CIRCE

TIME IS RUNNING OUT FOR CIRCE, AND HER DESIRE FOR FREEDOM AND REVENGE GROWS WITH EVERY PASSING DAY. For her entire life she has been locked in the cage her mother dared to call home with no contact with the outside world. But now her mother is dead and for the past three years, Circe has been dragged along by Sebastian de Jager under the guise that he will protect her from a powerful force she does not understand.

But no more will she roam. In three weeks' time, she is to be sent back to the island she once called home to rot until her dying days, but the prospect of avenging her mother has festered in her mind to the point of recklessness. With only the stories her mother has fed her for her entire life and a singular name, Circe dives headfirst into a brash escape plan that involves finding an old ledger to lead her to one of the men involved in her mother's capture. But instead of finding the answers she needs, she comes across a pirate in the process of concocting his own scheme as well. His carelessness, greed, and rash nature make her wary of trusting him, but her desperation and lack of time leave her no choice but to entrust her daring escape in the hands of this scoundrel who’s been rumoured to have escaped the grips of death herself.

Once freed from the shackles of de Jager, Circe has been left alone in a world she does not understand with no allies or means to continue her revenge plot. She knows only of one man that might lead her to her answers: James Kruger, who possesses an old relic that will assist her in her goals. Adam, though in search of the same man, refuses to let Circe aboard his ship on the prospect of her femininity.

After the two successfully concoct another escape plan, Adam offers her a deal which she cannot refuse: passage aboard his ship in exchange for her finding the conspirator among his men. To do so, she must hide in plain sight amongst the very rogues and charlatans responsible for her mother's capture in the first place.

links:

Book Playlist // Circe Playlist // Adam Playlist

Circe Pinterest Board // Adam Pinterest Board

NOTE: This is a work of FICTION inspired by real-life events and is NOT meant to be an accurate retelling of history. While I do fancy myself a bit of a pirate historian, I also prefer fantastical retellings over plain Jane history and thus wrote one myself. There are plenty of factual pirate books that you can check out to learn the real lives of these high-seas robbers, but this is not one of them.

I was debating on whether or not to share my magnum opus with Tumblr, as I am currently looking to be published with this one, but I am just too dang passionate about pirates and my little bastards to not share them with the world. This story is very near and dear to my heart, I hope you enjoy this WIP post and other things that I will post about it. If any of you would like to read any excerpts or see any character sheets, feel free to comment/ask I might post some snippets. Also, I just want to say before anyone asks because I get this question a lot, this first book does not have any romance in it. Later installments do feature romance, but this first book is purely an action/adventure between two unlikely companions of the opposite gender.

— M. Warrin

#pirates #pirate fiction #wip intro #writeblr community #writeblr intro #current wip #novel #fantasy novel #fiction #wip introduction #Give No Quarter #warrin writes #my writing

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strangethings-everywhere · 1 year

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Before You Go // Ethan Landry // Ch.5

Masterlist Word Count: 1231 Warnings: ANGST Author's Note: I'm seriously contemplating just dragging this story out because I'm enjoying Ethan SO MUCH. Anyway, enjoy

After moving to New York with your friends after the Woodsboro killings, you try to leave all of it behind you and start over. You become friends with Ethan Landry, but after Ghostface returns, you start to become suspicious of everyone, especially him.

“You died. I saw your body.” You gasped. She laughed.

“I just needed to get off the suspect list. Faking my death was too easy.” She shrugged. “You all fell for it.”

“Yeah, because you fucking died.” You shook your head. “Does this mean-”

“Points for Y/N, yeah.” Quinn did jazz hands. “I’m Ghostface. One of them.” She took the knife at your throat and pointed it at your stomach. “Just wanted to have a little fun, since my accomplice was too pussy to finish you off.” You could feel the point digging into your skin through Ethan’s shirt.

“Wait, your dad even said you were dead. How did…” You trailed off. The pieces started to fall into place. Officer Bailey knew that she was alive, there was no other way she could’ve gotten away with it.

“Look at you!” Quinn cackled. “Maybe you aren’t so stupid after all.” She continued to slowly press the knife against you. It was starting to hurt. “Too bad you won’t get the chance to warn everyone.”

“Was he the one in the apartment?” You asked. Quinn opened her mouth to answer but was suddenly pulled away from you. It was Ethan, he must’ve followed you.

“Get away from her.” He growled, tossing Quinn to the ground. She didn’t seem to care. She just kept laughing. “She’s not part of this.”

“You are so fucking predictable.” Quinn grinned up at him. “I knew you’d come to save her. I also knew you’d be too chicken to kill her.”

No.

It all began to make sense. His earlier defense of the Ghostface killers, his absence from group activities, and even his reluctance to talk about his childhood. He was acting, pure and simple. The young man you’d grown to care about was just a facade, a lie. You began to hyperventilate, sobbing harder and harder. “No.”

“Y/N, I can explain.” He moved towards you and you scrambled backward. Quinn took the convenient distraction to disappear. “Please, let me explain.”

“No.” You tried to stand, but Ethan grabbed hold of you. You knew he was strong, but his arms were locked around you and you couldn’t break free. He wrapped a hand around your throat and began to squeeze.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He whispered in your ear. You pulled at his hands, digging in with your fingernails as hard as you could. It was no use and you fell into darkness, Ethan’s apologies echoing in your mind.

You came to a few hours later in what looked to be an abandoned office. Someone had put duct tape over your mouth and bound your limbs. Your throat throbbed and some of your stitches had reopened.

Memories slowly started coming back as the fog lifted from your mind. Ethan… it was Ethan. He was Ghostface and he had tried to kill you.

Or had he? The Ghostface that had attacked you in the apartment the other night had hesitated and left you with non-fatal wounds. If Quinn was right, or could even be trusted, your attacker that night had been Ethan and he had shown you mercy. Of course, that didn’t do much to redeem him, considering he’d butchered the guy in the shower and thrown Anika to her death. He was still a killer.

Your vision was still recovering when the door to your prison slowly opened. It was Ethan. His face was red and his eyes were raw as if he’d been crying. His jaw was set and he looked frustrated.

“Hi.” He whispered, leaning down to you. You shook your head and tried to move away, but you were stuck. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” He sat down next to you. “I have to do this.”

You tried to scream at him through the duct tape to no avail. With a finger to his lips, he ripped the tape from your mouth. “No, you don’t.” You gasped. “Please, you aren’t a killer.”

“Y/N, you don’t understand.” His voice was so soft, so tender. It was almost enough to distract you from the Ghostface robe he was wearing. “Sam killed my brother. We have to avenge him.”

“Your brother?” You cocked your head. “Ethan, what brother?”

“Richie.” He sighed. “My name is Ethan Kirsch. I’ve wanted to tell you since the day we met, but my dad would’ve killed me.” Ethan’s lip began to tremble. “He’s done so many awful things, Y/N. He’s asked me to do bad things.”

“Ethan…” You felt your eyes filling with tears. “You don’t have to listen.”

He nodded furiously. “Yes, I do. I want him to be proud of me, I…” He trailed off. “You just make this so much harder.” Ethan took your hand. He was wearing gloves, but you could still feel his hand shaking.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t focus when you’re around, Y/N!” He cried. His whole body shook as he spoke, his grip on your hand growing tighter and tighter. “You drive me insane. I’m supposed to complete this, to kill them, and all I want is to touch you like I did in the hospital.”

“Let go of me.” You could barely get the words out. “Please, let me go.”

“I can’t.” He growled. “If I let you go, Quinn will find you and she will kill you. She’ll kill you to get at me and my dad will encourage it because with you gone, I’ll finally be free of distractions.” Ethan let out a strangled laugh. “I just want to be free of this. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Please, I can’t do this.”

Part of you wanted to feel sorry for him. It felt authentic, this display of sorrow and conflict. However, he’d been lying to you for months and you had no idea if you could trust him. You were still grappling with the fact that Ethan was a killer. It didn’t compute. He had always been so sweet and gentle. You and Chad had always joked that he could never hurt anyone, he was too empathetic. He’d feel bad.

“You betrayed me.” It came out in a whimper, but all you wanted to do was scream. “Ethan, you betrayed me.”

“I know.” Tears were streaming down his cheeks. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You think this is right?” Finally, anger exploded in your chest. “Ethan, your brother nearly killed me. He doesn’t deserve to be avenged, he doesn’t need it! Richie made stupid choices and he paid the price.”

“I know that now.” Ethan desperately held onto you. “Please, I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“Then let me go.”

“I’m trying to protect you!” He leaned his forehead against yours. “I can’t make it through this without you.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, staring at each other and weeping. You had no idea what to say or how to help him. You weren’t sure if you should help him. All you could do was watch the tears fall down his cheeks and wish that you could wipe them away.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. An unfamiliar male voice spoke and Ethan let out a shaky sigh. “Stay here.” He whispered. “I’ll be back. My dad needs help getting set up.” With one last look back at you, he was gone.

#ethan landry #jack champion #ethan landry imagine #ethan landry x reader #scream franchise #scream 6

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coraniaid · 6 months

Note

Oooh there are so many good prompts, it's hard to choose! I'm gonna go with Fuffy + 13. “You make me feel safe.” :)

Sorry this took so long! To be honest, I'm still not 100% happy with it, but one of the things I was trying to do with these prompts was let myself write quick and short stand-alones without worrying too much about editing them afterwards and it's already been over three weeks. Hopefully it works okay as it is.

This is an almost canon-compliant S7, except that Faith got broken out of prison and came to Sunnydale a few months earlier than she did in canon.

Faith remembers the first night she ever came to Buffy’s house.

She’d only been in Sunnydale for a couple of days. Hadn’t had a decent meal since getting off the coach. Or for a couple of weeks before getting on the coach, come to think of it. And, yeah, maybe Buffy’s invitation had seemed a little stiff, a little bit unenthusiastic - maybe she'd got the sense, even then, that Buffy didn't exactly want her around - but she’d still figured it was worth it. Where was the harm in checking out how the other Slayer lived, with a free meal along the way?

She’d already known Buffy had things easier than she did, but she hadn’t really been ready for just how much she had. For just how rich her life was. She remembers looking around the living room before they ate, thinking how big it was – how full of furniture and art and books and framed photos of Buffy and her family – how much smaller and emptier it made the shitty little motel she was sleeping in feel. She remembers sitting opposite Buffy at a huge table, trying to play it cool, while Buffy’s mom kept bringing in bowl after bowl of food from out of the kitchen. She remembers the way Joyce had asked Faith questions while she ate, had seemed interested in her answers in a way Faith doesn’t think most people ever were. In a way nobody had treated Faith before Diana. And she remembers the way Buffy’s kid sister had looked at her while they all ate: like she was the coolest person she’d ever met, maybe the coolest person alive. A superhero, or something.

(From what Faith’s been told, this part didn’t happen. Dawn wasn’t really there. Faith’s not too clear on exactly where she was. But that’s how she remembers it.)

The part with Buffy’s mom had been real though. She’s pretty sure of that. She remembers as well that, weeks later, Joyce had worried about Faith spending the holidays alone and gotten Buffy to invite her over for Christmas. Joyce had always looked out for her. Always cared about her. Now Joyce is dead, and practically the last memory of her Faith has is of holding a knife to her throat and promising to kill her. Just one more evil fucked-up thing she’s done that she’s never going to be able to make right.

Truth is that she’d been kind of awestruck back then, and not just by the house. Not just by Buffy’s family. By all of it. By Buffy’s whole life. She’d even let.herself think that maybe she had a place here. Somewhere safe. Somewhere she belonged, with someone who might … well, whatever. She always had been a little slow. Buffy had made it clear where they really stood soon enough. That there were parts of her life Faith would be tolerated in, if not exactly welcomed, and other parts that were pretty much permanently off limits.

Four years later, the place doesn’t seem quite so big.

These days the Summers’ house has to hold a lot more people than just three. Not just Buffy and her sister, but Willow, Xander and Anya too, plus an ever-growing small army of Potential Slayers. And Faith herself, of course. Somehow she’d made it here after all. It isn’t quite what she’d expected. And not just because it's an awful lot more crowded.

That’s why, when it happens, Faith’s not totally surprised to find Buffy waiting outside the room she’d managed to snag for herself when she first arrived here in the fall. The other Slayer looks at her a little nervously, like she’s about to break some bad news. Still, at least Faith knows it can’t be too terrible. She’s just got back from a late night patrol, and everyone who should be alive in here still is. For now.

“Willow and I have been talking, and … um,” Buffy hesitates. "Do you mind if I sleep in here tonight?"

What Buffy manages not to say – as if everyone in the house didn’t know – is that Red and Kennedy have been getting real serious lately, and not exactly shy about expressing their affections either. They weren't exactly keeping their hands to themselves. So unless Buffy had gotten a lot more relaxed about some things in the last three years – which Faith kind of doubts, whatever that Spike guy says – she could hardly keep sharing her old room with Willow the way she’s been doing since Faith arrived.

Faith rather likes Kennedy, all things considered. She’s got a bit of an attitude on her, sure, and she goes out of her way to get in Buffy’s face a lot more often than she should, but then, Faith would have to be awfully hypocritical to get mad at somebody else for doing any of that. Besides, you need an attitude if you’re going to make it as a Slayer. Need some sort of edge. You need a bit of backbone and self-confidence, just as much as you need the actual superpowers, if you’re planning to live for long. So Kennedy’s all right, as far as Faith’s concerned.

That’s why she reminds herself not to be too mad at the Potential for costing her a comfortable bed at training tomorrow morning. Tells herself she won’t spend too much time thinking up more painful drills tonight. Or at least that she won’t actually make Kennedy do many of them.

"No problem, B," she says now with a casual shrug. "I guess I'll see if there's a spare cot in the basement."

Oddly, that doesn’t seem to be the answer Buffy was hoping for. She frowns, like Faith’s just said something wrong.

(That’s a look that Faith’s had plenty of time to get used to in her years in Sunnydale.)

"No," Buffy tries again. "I meant, maybe I could sleep with you.”

The other Slayer’s eyes widen slightly a second after she says that, which Faith figures means it takes her that long to properly hear what she actually said.

“In the same room, I mean!” the other Slayer clarifies quickly. “That we should share. But not … you know.”

Yeah, Faith knows. She might be slow, but Buffy’s been pretty clear about that. And it’s not like Faith’s ever been exactly subtle about making the offer..

(“What are friends for?” she remembers asking Buffy once, out on patrol, a few nights before everything went bad. On one of the last good nights, before Faith had managed to ruin things forever. And Buffy had just looked at her, the way she always did back then, prim and proper and faintly disapproving, and told her that she thought “that stuff” ruined friendships.

So they both knew where they stood, even back then. At least she’d never been desperate enough to beg.)

“Unless ... that's not weird, is it?” Buffy asks her. “ You wouldn’t mind? You can find somewhere else if you want, or I can, only I–"

Watching Buffy nervously babble, a faint blush still visible on her cheeks, Faith could almost kid herself that no time at all had passed since she first arrived in Sunnydale. That there’s going to be some big test at school that the older Slayer’s all stressed out about. That she doesn’t work there, that she isn’t suddenly old enough to own a house and have a job and be raising her kid sister all by herself. That as late as it is, they could still sneak out to the Bronze after this, just the two of them, and that this time, maybe …

“It’s your house,” Faith says with another shrug, not sure if she wants to think about how she feels about sharing a room with Buffy, even now. “As long as you don’t snore, we’re five by five.”

The familiar way Buffy reacts that – like she’s affronted, but not actually angry – makes Faith think she must’ve managed to hit the right tone this time.

“I don’t snore,” Buffy says firmly. “Anything Dawn says to suggest otherwise is a total lie.”

"That’s okay, B," Faith makes herself grin, trying to hang on to the familiar feeling while she can. "I've shared a cell with girls who do a lot worse than snore."

“Surprised you ain’t sharing a room with Dawn, actually,” she admits, a little bit later, once they’re both inside. “Or one of the Potentials.”

Somebody who isn’t her, she means. Somebody that Buffy might actually like. Somebody she can trust.

“Well, Dawn’s the one who snores,” Buffy says. “And she needs some space of her own. For homework, and for … I just don’t want to take that away from her.”

Faith’s not sure what to say to that. Even before she was Called, she never had the sort of childhood Buffy or her sister had. Never got to be just a girl, the way that they both did. To have the sort of easy life kids have in crappy teen dramas. Not that she’s the only one missing out; she guesses a lot of other girls don’t ever get the chance either. A fair few of the Potentials sleeping under this very roof didn't, for a start.

But watching the way Buffy fights to give Dawn the chance to have that sort of childhood – to protect her from the world, as long as she can – makes Faith feel … well, she isn’t sure. Proud, maybe, but sort of sad at the same time. Because nobody ever fought for that on her behalf. Because there's nobody left to fight for it for Buffy.

She doesn’t know how to explain any of that though. Guesses Buffy would think she would be being presumptive if she tried. So she doesn’t say a word.

“And the other girls … they don’t get it,” Buffy says. “They look at me like I’m something I’m not. Like I’m like Ri– some kind of army guy. A general. Like I’m trying to be special; to put myself above them. They don’t understand what it means to be like us.”

Truth is Faith isn’t sure what it means to be like them. If she knew how to be like Buffy, maybe things a few years ago could’ve worked out differently. She’d convinced herself, for a bit, back in prison, that that’s all she’d ever wanted. To have been like Buffy: so much like her that she didn’t have to think about being herself anymore. To have been so good at pretending to be her better half that she became her.

Then Red had helped bust her out of prison, she’d found herself back in Sunnydale – because Buffy needed her, so what kind of choice did she have? – and she’d had to admit to herself that that wasn’t all she’d wanted. It never had been.

They’re both in bed – on opposite sides of the room, so far apart they couldn’t touch even if they’d wanted to – before the other Slayer speaks again. Buffy had grabbed the bed closest to the window, so to a Slayer’s eyes she’s easy enough to see with the moonlight shining through the curtains. Faith though … well, she's in the dark, isn’t she? That part feels familiar too.

“Is it weird?” Buffy asks her. “Being back here?”

Faith’s glad, suddenly, that Buffy can’t see her in the darkness. Can’t see the sudden guilty look on her face; that she doesn’t have to pretend not to be surprised that her thoughts were so obvious.

“Beats prison, I guess,” she says.

There’s a short silence from the other side of the room.

“Right. I meant to ask. Was it …” Buffy doesn’t finish the question. That’s good. It means Faith doesn’t have to lie to her.

Prison had sucked. Of course it had. Probably would have been a lot worse if Faith hadn’t had her strength and her healing and all the other side-benefits of being a Slayer. Or maybe not. Maybe if she hadn’t, she wouldn’t have had that same itch, every night. The need to fight, to hunt down demons and monsters, the conviction that she belonged out there, fighting vampires. The false conviction that the world needed her out there, fighting the good fight.

Because it was false. The world had been just fine without her. Because there was only ever supposed to be one of them, and it was never meant to be her. She didn’t have anything good left to offer anyone anyway. She’d belonged in prison. Buffy had said as much. And if Buffy said it, it had to be true, no matter how much it hurt. That was pretty much the one thing Faith had learned since she got here. That Buffy was the good Slayer, and that she was … the other one.

“The other week,” Buffy says slowly, “Anya told me that …”

Faith feels herself tensing up a little. She doesn’t really get Anya. She’s a little odd, even for Sunnydale. She doesn’t remember her from back in the day either. Some of the things she says don’t really make any sense, but she figures that’s none of her business. Hell, apparently the girl was all set to marry Xander Harris. Why should anything she say make any kind of sense? But if she's been bitching about Faith behind her back, if she said something that upset Buffy, then maybe–

“Nevermind,” Buffy says, cutting that thought off. “It’s not important.”

Faith feels herself relaxing slightly, a bit of tension draining out of her. Neither of them speaks for a few more minutes.

"I'm glad you're back, anyway," Buffy says sleepily, just as Faith’s about to nod off herself. "You being here again … it's good. You make me feel safe."

Even at her most pathetic moments behind bars, Faith doesn't think she'd ever let herself imagine Buffy saying that to her.

"Uh, B," she says slowly. “You might wanna rethink that idea. Last I checked, most people in this house are a lot safer to be around than I am. I mean, there’s a reason Dawn leaves the room whenever I come in, and it’s not just because I keep helping myself to that cereal she likes.”

She’d be lying if she said it didn’t hurt a little, the whole cold shoulder treatment. Especially since, the way Willow explained it, Dawn’s the one person Faith remembers from her visit to Sunnydale who she didn’t really do anything to. Sure, she remembers saying things to her, waving a knife in her face, but that wasn’t her. It didn’t really happen.

But she gets it. Of course she does. It might not be real, but it may as well be. They both remember it all the same. And it’s nothing she wouldn’t have done, given the chance. She’d done a lot worse, hadn’t she? To people Dawn cared about. To her mom. To Buffy.

“Dawn really liked you,” Buffy says quietly. “She was really hurt when .. you know. But she’ll get over it eventually. She'll forgive you.”

Faith frowns at that. Swallows in the dark.

“Maybe she shouldn’t,” she says. “Maybe I don’t deserve that. The things I did … to Joyce, to you … maybe nobody should forgive me. Maybe there’s some things you just can’t ever make right.”

(She remembers the last meeting with Buffy, years earlier. Back in LA. In Angel’s place. Remembers the look on her face. The tremble of barely suppressed fury in her voice. “Apologize to me,” Buffy had warned her then, “And I will beat you to death.” Maybe it would’ve been easier for them both that way.)

“You’re not planning to do anything like that again though, right?” Buffy says, fighting back a yawn, comfortable now in a way Faith doesn’t remember her sounding for years. For forever, maybe. “I mean, the First isn’t about to talk you into teaming up to take over the world or anything, right?”

"No," Faith says immediately, awake in a way she wasn’t a minute ago. "God no, Buffy. Of course I'd never--"

"So I'm right," Buffy says smugly, and without even turning to look Faith can imagine the satisfied look on her face perfectly. “This is the safest place I can be right now.”

Faith breathes out, slowly.

“Yeah, I guess,” she says.

Some things haven’t changed, Faith figures. However little she likes the thought of being a leader, Buffy sure does love being in control. Faith can’t say she minds too much though. Not really. Deep down, she’s always kind of liked it.

Later, when the other Slayer's fallen asleep, Faith just lays in bed, thinking. Trying to get used to the quiet sounds Buffy makes, lying on the other side of the room. (She doesn't snore, exactly. They're not bad sounds.)

That first year in Sunnydale ... looking back, she'd been so angry, pretty much all the time. At least, as soon as she’d figured out that Buffy wasn’t ever going to accept her into her life the way she wanted. She’d wanted so badly to be seen, the way that she could see Buffy. For the other Slayer to recognize something of herself in Faith, something Faith wasn’t sure she had. Because they were the Chosen Two, the only people in the world like each other, but maybe that wasn’t quite enough.

Because Buffy’s wrong. She is special. Not because she’s the Slayer, not because she's some kind of General, not because she saved the world a whole bunch of times – although that helps, sure – but because of everything else. Because of the things about her that Faith’s never been able to understand, never been able to imitate: the things that make her different from the person Faith is. The things that make her better than Faith is, better than she could ever be. Because she’s Buffy; and because Faith’s not.

Sometimes it feels as though, ever since she arrived in Sunnydale, maybe even before that, Faith’s been nothing but a pale reflection of the older Slayer. A bad imitation; a cheap and nasty knock-off. Sometimes it feels like the only thing Faith’s ever really wanted is for the other Slayer to look at her the way she looks at Buffy. Like she’s the fulcrum on which the whole world rests; the only bright light in a dark and clouded sky.

Thing is, she's never going to be that for Buffy. She gets that now. She's not ever going to be Angel, or Spike, or even that farmhand boytoy Buffy had hooked up with in college. No amount of wishing or anger or dreaming is ever going to change that. It’s just not the way the world will ever work. But maybe that's okay. With everything she’s done, she doesn’t deserve any of that anyway. If there was any justice in the world – if Willow hadn’t come to LA last fall, told her that Buffy needed her – she’d still be rotting in a prison cell. When all this is over, maybe that’s exactly where she’ll end up.

Maybe. For now, at least, she gets to be needed. She gets to help. She gets to be part of Buffy’s life after all, even if it’s not in the way she would’ve wanted. She gets to be with Buffy -- on patrol, training the Potentials, and sometimes, when she's lucky, in quiet moments alone like this -- without anybody fighting her or calling the cops on her or trying to drag her back to prison. She gets to listen to her now, breathing quietly as she sleeps. And that's enough. Of course it is. That has to be enough. It's more than she deserves.

This First Evil demon thing wants to go after the Slayer line? It wants to hurt Buffy? Well, let it try. It'll have to come through her first. Plenty of chicks in prison had figured out the hard way that Faith was tougher than she looked. And she's got something to fight for now. She's found somewhere that she belongs. If Buffy wants her to play watchdog again, then that’s something she can do.

Faith falls asleep watching Buffy, committing the sight of her face bathed in moonlight to memory. Because she knows that, however things go from here, this was one of the good nights. This is a moment she isn’t going to want to forget.

And when Faith sleeps, she dreams. She dreams of coming around to Buffy’s house again, the way she had that first night, and doing things all over. She dreams of Homecoming, and Christmas dinners, and dancing side by side at the Bronze. She dreams of being brave enough to say how she feels instead of muttering an awkward “nothing” to an already closing door. Faith dreams of Buffy Summers and second chances, with a smile on her face that she can’t know mirrors the smile of the Slayer sleeping across from her.

For now, in this moment, maybe that’s enough.

#btvs #fanfiction #fuffy #(Faith thinks it's unrequited but she's an idiot)#asks #thanks!#I will get all of these written eventually

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sunshinepanic · 9 months

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Blood and Starlight - CH03

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: Maybe drinking wasn't such a good idea. Waking up to a pissed off Daryl really wasn't in your plans.

Chapter Warning: Anxiety, Swearing, Angst

WC: 1,212

Note: Sorry this is taking so long. I have no excuses.

Nothing is beta read we die like men.

Series Masterlist - TWD Masterlist

Everyone at the prison was celebrating, what your not sure, maybe just the fact that you were all together and safe for once. Glenn and Rick had found a box of booze in the wardens office so everyone was sitting around drinking and socializing. Rick and Hershel are talking while Glenn and Maggie are cuddled up together seemingly in their own little world. Carl and Beth are playing with Judith and Daryl is with Carol in the corner talking quietly amongst themselves.

It's been a long time since you drank but celebrating what little you have now seems like a good reason. Your sitting on the stairs drinking from a bottle of tequila that I you snatched from the crate Rick and Glenn found, observing this little group that you’re starting to call your family. You look over and see a small smirk playing on Daryl's face from something Carol is saying. All of a sudden Beth brings Judith over to Daryl and she takes off to her cell. As you look back over to Daryl he is holding Judith feeding her a bottle and looking at her with a small smile on his face, it may just be one of the cutest things you’ve ever seen.

As you sit and stare you can feel your throat constrict. This room feels to small and it's getting kind of hard to breathe. You grab your bottle and quickly make your way outside of the prison ignoring the ache you feel through your entire body.

It's pouring down rain outside and it's pitch black out but you don't mind. The rain helps you calm down. You sit down on the pavement outside and let the rain soak through your clothes as you drink from the bottle of tequila and stare out at the fence. You trace the swirls of your tattoo on my left thigh through your jeans and you can feel the itch to run under your skin.

Daryl POV

I was getting ready to go on a hunting trip and Rick thought it would be a good idea for me to take Y/N along with me. Normally I would protest but I think it would be good for her to get out of here for a little bit, problem is I can't seem to find her anywhere.

I found Maggie and Glenn up in the watch tower. " Hey have you guys seen Y/N anywhere?" I asked trying not to sound panicked. Maggie scrunched her eyebrows, "If anyone would know where Y/N is it would be you. You guys are practically joined at the hip." I scoff shaking my head. " That's not true." Maggie just gives me an are you serious look while Glenn chuckles behind his hand. " Any time we want to find you or Y/N we just look for one of you because the other is usually near there. You guys like orbit around each other or something, but I haven't seen her since last night."

Now I'm worried. Y/N doesn't seem to be anywhere in the prison. I make my way back out towards my bike hoping I might be able to track her if she did leave.

About a mile down the road I spot a tequila bottle dropped on the side of the road going off into the trees. I stash my bike inside the tree line and start following the small signs through the woods. As I approach a clearing in the trees I spot a cabin. Checking the perimeter it looks to be clear.

Making my way into the cabin I notice the clothes Y/N was wearing the night before strewn across the floor. As I enter the back room I find Y/N covered by a dingy sheet fast asleep. Taking a moment to be thankful she is alright I look her over taking in the sight of her tattooed arms and the tattoos on her right leg that is sticking out of the sheet. Shaking myself out of admiring the artwork on her body I kick the cot she's sleeping on.

Y/N POV

You woke with a start. Clutching your knife in one hand holding the sheet to your body with the other. Daryl dodged you swiping at him with the knife.

As you realized it was Daryl your adrenaline calmed and you caught your breath. "Jesus Christ Daryl! What the fuck are you doing?" He looked at you in disbelief. "Me!? What the hell are you doing out here in some random fucking cabin? You took off ain't no one know where the fuck you were! I thought you were dead!" Daryl yelled in his gruff voice.

You looked up at him from behind your hair seeing in his bright blue eyes how worried and angry he actually is. You bit your lower lip. Sighing you stood up and started walking out of the room. Daryl growled, "where in the hell do you think you're going?" You turned to look back at Daryl. "I need to be about ninety percent less naked in order for me to endure this conversation that I see no way for me to get out of, so I'm going to put my clothes back on and you can rip my head off once we get back to the prison." Daryl was fuming as he shoved past her making his way outside.

The trip back to the prison was excruciatingly quiet. The tension coming off of Daryl was so bad you couldn't even bring herself to enjoy being wrapped around him on the back of his bike.

Pulling up to the prison you made a beeline for your cell while Daryl got caught up telling Rick where he found you. Of course you didn't escape for long. Daryl pushed through the curtain to your cell. " You going to tell me what the fuck happened?" Huffing you turned to look at him. "Nothing I got drunk and went to get some air last night, and then I just had this urge to go outside the fence. I was going to come back." Scoffing Daryl threw his hands up, "So because you planned on coming back that's supposed to make it better?" You sighed. "I needed to get out okay? I rarely go out of the fence and I was starting to feel like a fucking caged animal. You can't tell me you don't know how that feels. I can tell you get antsy when you have been in here to long and no one questions it when you disappear for days at a time. I won't apologize for going but I will apologize for not telling someone where I was going. I didn't mean to worry you." Daryl growled "Whatever, fucking tell someone next time so I don't end up having to be your fucking babysitter I got better shit to do." Daryl grunted and made his way out of your cell. You yelled after him, "I never fucking asked you to come find me!" You got no response and collapsed into your bed. You could feel a familiar burning in Y/E/C eyes but you refused to cry. You hadn't cried since you lost your family and you damn sure weren’t going to cry over Daryl Dixon.

Tags: @cole22ann

#the walking dead #twd #twd daryl #amc the walking dead #amc twd #the walking dead fan fiction #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead x reader #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #daryl dixion x reader #daryl dixion fanfiction #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n #blood and starlight #niko writes #me #my writing #daryl dixon

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bambikisss · 2 years

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Bank Teller

[ Inspired a bit by money heist: Korea ]

-> When money becomes tight around Korea and the public finds out why you and your friends go on a mission to get the most you can and end up meeting the bank teller.

BANKTELLER!BANGCHAN X CRIMINAL!READER

Smut warning: choking, degradation, slight spit, use of handcuffs, unprotected sex, biting, bang chan being hot, he slaps you one time, the nicknamesss ugghhhh

Story warnings: mentions of guns, death, robbery, threats

A/N: Let me know if I should do a part two!

When people who were extremely selfish came into power, the people underneath them will either sink or swim; if they kissed enough ass they would be taken care of. If they didn't, they would lose everything they owned and loved.

You were one of the people who seemed to lose everything.

Under the new President's laws, the money sector of the government became its own entity. They could decide how much money to print and how much the public got. It was a horrible idea as the man who led the Money sector was power hungry and filled with greed. He chose the most prestigious banks to get the most help from them, along with businesses that supported him when he ran for his current position. He then announced that the other companies could send someone to meet with him to decide on their new pay wages and how much money would go to him versus how much the company would get to keep running. Over 45 percent of businesses were given less money than they needed to run their companies and ended up either in extreme debt or closed down. It was all the news could talk about as many people blamed him, along with the president for ruining their jobs as many families now had to seek work elsewhere to pay their rent, while the rich could sit back and watch from their paid-off homes.

Now, let's go back to you. You worked at one of the businesses next to go talk to him to decide their fate. You leaned back in your computer chair as you watched your once happy, cheery CEO cry in her office out of fear that she would have to close down. You felt disgust for the whole situation, turning to look outside at the calm night view of the city. You knew people were suffering and wanted to change it, but you didn't know how.

That's before an opportunity came and knocked you both in the face.

You were about to clock out around midnight when three men came into the office. They obviously thought the place should be empty as they were surprised to see you both before they announced that they were not only going to rob you both but have their way with you guys as well. You pushed your CEO behind you, protecting her as you fought one of the men, successfully breaking his nose and lip before being tossed over one of the desks. You gripped the table as you tried to stand up, the pain in your abdomen bugging you as you watched your CEO beg for her life. You noticed one of the guys had their bags on the ground with their guns sticking out. You weren't one for guns, but from how they talked to your boss, you knew they were planning to end her life. You grabbed the gun before returning to the desk, mustering up all the courage you could before shooting two of the men dead, the only one alive holding onto your boss's head. He stared at you with disbelief as he held his knife to her throat, observing as you walked around the table. You were about to threaten him, hoping he would run scared but he didn't give you the chance. He stabbed your CEO as hard as he could before being met with a bullet from you, the bodies falling onto the ground as blood soaked into the carpet.

You began shaking, pushing off the tears that wanted to spill from your eyes as you grabbed one of the robber's bags, rushing out of the building to be met with heavy rain. You knew that if you would've called the cops, there was a high chance that they wouldn't have listened to you. You knew how guilty you looked and decided that being on the run was more tempting than being in a prison cell. You turned back to face the building you once called home before running off into a nearby alley, following them. You had to decide fast on where you were going; you knew you couldn't go home as they would send police to your home after they went through the crime scene. You couldn't go anywhere near here as your face would be everywhere in a matter of minutes and someone could be greedy enough to turn you in for some extra funds. You had met it to an alley that was near an abandoned parking garage and some water, where you considered jumping into to just end it all. You had only gripped the side of the wall when you felt a hand being placed on your shoulder, making you turn around, whipping your gun out to face the man. He smiled as he held his hand up in defense, not worried about you shooting him. He could tell you were scared and nervous noted by how shakily you held the gun. ''Let me help you. You don't have to end it all over what you did" he kept a bright smile on his face, reminding you of your CEO. It made you drop the weapon and your guard. You hated how fast you agreed to join him, but you were desperate; you had nowhere to run to and the idea of drowning to death didn't seem so interesting to you. So, you agreed.

That was the backstory to why you were now sitting in a circle with six other people, talking about committing the biggest bank robbery in history: robbing the Money Sector.

You put on your uniform, sighing as your friend Berlin patted your back. You were all named after places you wanted to visit instead of using your old names. That person was dead and gone according to the police. Yet here you were with the name Australia. You always wanted to visit the place, especially the opera house. You knew it sounded boring, but you loved how it looked in pictures and online.

You put in your earpiece as you followed Berlin to the truck. Your part of the plan required you to ride with him to "deliver" more money to the sector. You hid in the very back of the truck, placing a mask on as you hid behind the many stacks and boxes of money and gold.

"Alright team," the professor said to the team through the earpieces, a smile apparent on his lips from his voice. "Let's go ahead and show him what happened when the rich decide to abuse their power."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You weren't needed until the alarm went off, signaling that a code red was being enforced. By the time you had emerged from the truck, everyone was gathered in the lobby, all their heads down and shaking with fear. You joined the others as they were talking to them, trying to calm them down enough to cooperate. You leaned against a nearby desk, blowing bubbles with your gum underneath your mask while you listened to Berlin talk, waiting for the next set of instructions. Berlin soon smiled at you, tossing you a flash drive and some other wires, letting you know that the room you were assigned to keep an eye on and hack in was ready. You nodded, asking who was the bank teller for that room, surprised when you noticed a hand shoot up.

You walked over to the raised hand, gripping his wrist to help him stand up before leading him to the room with your gun pressed to his back. You weren't planning on shooting him, just keeping him in the room so if there were any security questions, he could answer them. You sat him down on the floor facing the desk before closing the door, leaning down to him before removing the bag your co-robbers had placed on his head.

You were actually surprised how attractive the bank teller was; he had black hair and dark brown eyes, his hair slightly messed up from the bag but he looked so put together. You looked down to notice him wearing a suit, the tight material around his arms showcasing his biceps. He looked hot, to be frank.

"Like what you see, Princess?"

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, your surprised look covered by your mask. His Australian accent was thick in his voice when he spoke, making you realize that he was actually from Australia. He scanned your body, wolf-whistling as he dragged his eyes up your body slowly. It felt like he was undressing you with his eyes, feeling slightly exposed even though you knew you were fully covered. You cleared your throat, making your way over to the desk to place your gun down, the bank teller smirking as he watched you walk back over. "You look decent," you murmured, taking a piece of tape to get all of his fingerprints before returning to the desk. "Oh and don't call me princess."

"I can't call you that? Well then, what's your name?" he smiled as you returned, not offering a response as you handcuffed his hands together. He bit his lip not only from the close proximity you both were but from how tight you made the handcuffs. You nodded when they were tight enough, walking away with the key back to the desk, where you tossed the key somewhere. You had no plans on letting him go, so there was no need for it. You checked your phone for any updates, smiling when everyone was given the go-ahead to remove their masks to build trust with their assigned hostages. You leaned back in the computer chair before removing your mask, tossing it onto the desk. The bank teller felt his cheeks slightly heat up at the sight of you, clearing his throat to get your attention. "Has anyone ever told you that you're really pretty?" You raised an eyebrow at his question, wondering why he was flirting with you and not pleading for his release. You didn't respond, starting to look through the database to check on the security settings of everything when an access code popped up on the screen. At hearing the notification sound, your hostage smirked.

"You're going to need my password for that. And lucky for you, I-"

"I got in"

He paused mid-sentence, his head snapping to face your own smirk as the approved password sound came from the computer. He was so surprised, shaking his head in disbelief as he was the only person who knew all of the passwords. "Aww, don't be so sad Mr. Bank Teller," you said smugly, offering him a slight wink before leaning back in your chair once more, watching as the files all soon unlocked on their own. "Mr. Bank Teller? Just call me Chan," you turned to face him, Chan now sitting on his knees facing you as well. You decided that since you would be spending so much time together that you should be cordial. "Australia"

He held back a laugh at your name, you rolling your eyes at his reaction. "I'm sorry, it's just- I'm from Australia and is that your legal name or?" You didn't respond to his question, going back onto the computer to look through everything. He pouted as you ignored him, shifting to get comfortable, sitting on his butt as he leaned against the wall. In his mind, it wasn't all too bad being locked up with you. It was obvious that you had no intention of hurting him as you would've done it after you had gotten access to the systems and you were pretty so he had something to look at and admire.

He thought back to what his boss had said for him to do while they were all held in the lobby with the bags on their heads.

You need to get close to her. Use that charisma of yours to persuade her of letting you and me go. Then, we can go to the police and get them all arrested and we'll be marked as heroes.

Chan didn't care much about being called the hero of the situation as he knew his boss would want all of the spotlights. However, he wanted to keep you talking as he could either get information out of you or just hear you speak. He grimaced at the tightening of his work pants, trying to take his mind off of you and get comfortable as he knew it would be a long night.

Day 3

"Just stay with him until the Professor says we can roll out of here. I know you hate it here but we can't lose the one person who would give us so much information," you rolled your eyes as you leaned against Berlin's desk. The job was supposed to be a quick in and out situation, at most supposed to be taking two days but now you were getting restless. Berlin patted your shoulder before he ushered for you to go back to the room to keep watch on Chan, but you knew he was fine. He was still handcuffed and had been pretty obedient. He made no effort to escape when you took him to the bathroom or to get food, and had just been sitting on the floor talking to you about meaningless things to keep you both talking as you knew he was also bored. You had learned the most you had about someone in just a few days than you had in a while. In a weird way, you enjoyed his company.

When you returned with snacks and a drink for him, he thanked you before moving to open them. You moved the handcuffs so his hands were in front of him instead of behind him, allowing him to properly use the bathroom or eat and drink.

You returned to the chair, staring at the ones and zeros that scanned across the screen, boredom setting in once more. "Do you know what time it is?" Chan asked, making you shrug before checking your phone. "Midnight."

"So, we've been here for four days," he nodded, taking another sip of his drink. "This is the longest first date of my life."

You raised an eyebrow at his words, asking what he meant. "You heard me. I don't tell just anyone about my scar on my side," he chuckled, referring back to a conversation you both had about tattoos and scars. "I never agreed to this being a first date, Chan," You pointed out, Chan smirking at you. "You didn't have to, Princess. The minute you locked me in this dark room with no windows for now what, four days with you, this became a date." You sighed rubbing your temples as you felt your cheeks heat up from the nickname. Maybe it was because you were sleep-deprived or something, but he could make you blush and stumble over your words with the stupidest words.

You stood up to walk around and stretch, Chan, asking to do the same. You knew he wouldn't make a run for it as you had locked the door and if someone used the wrong code to unlock it, they'd get shocked. He thanked you, throwing away his trash before cracking his back, and turning to face you. "Can you do me a favor and remove my tie and unbutton my shirt? It's starting to suffocate me," you at first refused until he pouted, making you roll your eyes before moving to unbutton and remove the tie. Chan hadn't had a chance to have you so up close, biting his lip as he felt you remove the tie before working on his shirt. "If you want, you can remove the whole thing," your hands halted as your eyes met, a spark surging through your body at his darkened eyes. You both had been flirting with one another these past days, the underlying sexual tension now coming to the surface to be thick. You were about to walk away when you felt his hands move to grip your hips, tugging you close to him as his lips moved to your ear, his voice dark and slightly desperate as he spoke. "C'mon, Princess, don't be all shy now. I know how much you fucking want me and believe me, I also want you so fucking much," your hands gripped his shirt as he pulled face to face you, licking his lips at your darkened eyes.

Fuck it.

Your lips smashed together in a rough and needy kiss, your tongues making colliding with one another in no time to try and fight for dominance. He groaned into the kiss when you bit his bottom lip, his handcuffed hands slowly moving to grip your ass to pull you closer as he rolled his hips to meet yours. He pulled back for air, a string of saliva connecting the two of you as he told you to take off his glasses, reconnecting your lips when you did. He licked around your mouth as he moved you to the desk, murmuring drunkenly into your mouth as he helped you get on it.

"Lemme get these off of you, baby," he groans, you leaning back as he tried to remove your clothes but the handcuffs made it a bit harder. You helped him remove your pants and top, Chan choosing to leave your harness on as it held up your bra. He kissed and bit the top of your breasts, your legs wrapping around his waist as he began to rut his groin into yours. He watched as you tossed your head back, Chan becoming harder as he listened to the small noises you made for him. He hadn't had any sexual activity in a while, and yet, you were becoming one of his favorites. He loved how you moaned his name when he rolled his hips and bit your neck, Chan slowly kissing down your body as he lowered himself. When you realized he was on his knees, you sat up on your hands, looking down at him as he licked the wet patch on your panties, making you hum as you gripped his hair. He continued to play with you for a minute before he used his teeth to remove the underwear, letting it drop into his hand before he began to bite and suck your thighs. He loved how the closer he would get to your pussy, the tighter your hand got in his hair. He moaned against your wet thigh before his tongue made contact with you, making you sigh dreamily. "Does that pussy taste good, Chan?" you asked, grabbing one of your breasts as he looked up at you, nodding as he licked your folds hungrily. He moved as close to you as he could, his lips wrapping around your clit as he used his bottom lip to pleasure you, letting your hand grip his hair tighter as he moved. "You sound so good for me, baby. You taste so good, too," he moaned, noticing how you had tightened around his tongue and how your thighs were closing around his head, Chan moving faster. You tossed your head back to rest against the monitor as you raised your hips to move against his tongue and face, winning as you approached your orgasm. Chan closed his eyes and moved you faster, now fucking you with his tongue when you came, a groan leaving him as he rushed to clean you up, his lower face covered with your cum.

He kissed up your body when you calmed down, you pulling him into a rough kiss as his handcuffed hands massaged your thighs, Chan biting your bottom lip as he let it snap back into place. He decided to tease you, repeatedly removing his lips from yours, making you whine as you chased them. He soon gave in when he felt your hand begin to palm him over his pants, Chan whining as before he rested his forehead against yours. "Take these fucking things off," he whispered, referring to the cuffs. "I can't fuck you properly baby unless you take them off, please be good," he bit your nose as he heard the sound of you searching for the keys, then unlocking the handcuffs. The minute his hand was free, he pulled you into a rough kiss, dominating it as he removed his shirt and pants tossing them with yours as he rubbed his cock against your wet slit. He pulled back and gripped your jaw, making you look at him as he pushed into you, you both gasping at how you both felt. He felt like he was in heaven as you pulsed around him, you digging your nails into the back of his neck as you moaned at how big he was. "Are you not used to having such a big, fat cock in this pussy baby?" He asked, his tongue licking his bottom lip as he looked down at where you both met. He clicked his tongue when you held a hand out to stop him from going in more, slapping your hand away before gripping your hips. "No, you don't get to stop me from filling up this pussy. I bet you're such a slut that you can take a big cock like this, huh? You're just acting so innocent that you can't. " he shook his head, pushing you back so you were leaning your hands before he roughly pushed the rest of himself in, his lips smashing into yours when you moaned loudly. He rocked the two of you back and forth as he waited for you to adjust, licking your lip as he looked down at you. "You're too cute to be a normal bank robber. So, what do you think you're doing, princess?"

You raised an eyebrow at his question, moving one of your hands into his hair as you tugged hard, making him moan as his head fell backward. "Who are you calling cute?" you demanded, Chan, chuckling at how you thought you were in control. He gripped your hand removing it from his hair before he pulled out, flipping you over so you were pressed against the desk before he grabbed the handcuffs, placing them on your hands as he kept them behind your back. "You, sweetheart. It's time I teach you some manners, huh?" He didn't let you respond, pushing into just as roughly as he did the first time, not giving you time to adjust as he set a pounding pace. You moaned loudly, Chan leaning forward to bite your shoulder. "Look at you, winning and moaning like some cheap whore I could find outside near my house. Do you like how I fill up your little pussy, baby? Do you like how I can split you in fucking half with how big I am?"

You gripped the handcuffs as you tried to hold in your noises, only to loudly moan out "yes~" when he slapped your ass hard. He gripped your hair, pulling you up so your back was right against his chest, his lips moving to your neck as his hands moved to play with your clit and breasts. "Aww, you love how I fuck this pussy, don't you? How are you ever going to find another man after this is all over to satisfy you like this, hmm? You're going to have to come find me here at work, all wet and needy for me and have you bent over my desk taking my cock, screaming my name knowing goddam well that everyone could hear you, but you wouldn't care, no" you tightened at his words, feeling another orgasm approach at his words, Chan also noticing. He wrapped his hand around your throat, licking along the column of your neck as he moved faster, smirking when you whined that you were coming. "Cum. Do it, fucking make a mess all over my cock, I want it dripping down all over me," he demanded. You choked back a scream as you came, your legs shaking as Chan let you fall forward onto the desk. His pace didn't slow down as he waited for you to calm down, only stopping when he was sure you were spent. He pulled out, tossing off the handcuffs from your wrists before flipping you over once more, picking you as he moved to sit in the computer chair, turning it to face the heavily tinted windows. He pressed your back against, you immediately arching as his lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking as he pushed back into you sitting you down fully on his cock. He switched between nipples, relishing in the noises you made for him and how your nails dug into his arms.

"Now, who owns this pussy, baby? Tell me" he demanded, his hand cupping your jaw as his thumb moved across your bottom lip, waiting for your response. You raised an eyebrow, feeling your brattiness coming back, biting his thumb before saying "Not yours" You smirked as his eyes seemed to get darker, Chan's hand coming to slap you before gripping your face once more, pulling you close to his face. He kissed your cheek, licking the area he slapped while his free hand gripped your ass. "I'm going to show you who owns it so you don't forget," he whispered against your cheek, standing up with you in his arms, telling you to wrap your arms and legs around him. When you do, he kisses you softly before he begins to fuck into you, making you pull back from the kiss to moan his name, your nails dragging against his shoulders making him groan. He continues to fuck you in the air before pinning you against the window. His hand comes up to grip your jaw, making you open your mouth before he spits into your mouth, making you swallow it before he smirked, moving faster into you. "You better be glad those windows are tinted, but I bet you'd love having everyone watch you while I fuck you, huh? Should I take you out to where everyone can see you and show them how to properly fuck a slut, huh? Show them how I fuck my pussy?" His eyes focused on where you both connected, Chan then spitting onto where you both met, your head falling back against the window. His eyes moved up to meet yours, Chan's eyebrows furrowed as he sped up and moved harder, the room filled with a mixture of both of your moans and the sounds of him pounding into you. He bit his bottom lip, pulling you close to him as he whined in your ear, letting you know that he was about to cum, you nodding as you also had to. His jaw tightened as he played with your clit, you coming hard as you tightened around him. Chan bit his lip harder before his eyes snapped to yours, pulling you into a kiss as he growled into your mouth, moving his hips for a bit longer before they began to shudder, halting as his hips pinned against yours as he filled you up. He kissed you as you both breathed heavily, the kiss messy as he carefully placed you onto the desk. He took a minute to gather his breath before he placed his head on your shoulder, sweat rolling down his body as he bit and kissed your shoulder. "You alright, Sweetheart?" he asked you, kissing up your body to connect his lips with yours in a sweet kiss, you nodded before letting him know that you couldn't feel your legs. He walked over to grab a tissue to clean you both up before helping you get dressed, then did the same for himself. When you were both dressed and calmed down, he picked up the handcuffs, handing them to you asking for you to wait to put them on him until he had to go deal with the others, you agreeing as he put on his glasses, then fixed up both of your appearances. "You looked so hot, by the way," he chuckled, kissing you deeply, smiling into the kiss when you wrapped your arms around his neck, his hands resting on your hips as you both kissed one another.

You pulled back to rest your forehead against his, saying his name making him hum. "When you had the handcuffs on me, why didn't you leave them on me?" Chan took a second to think before he shrugged. "I wouldn't leave you in them and trusted that you wouldn't try to kill me or something like that. The same way you trusted me enough to remove the handcuffs off of me," you nodded, jumping when your phone buzzed, letting you know that it was time for him to go for his mandatory bathroom break then his work shift to help print money. Chan bit his bottom lip as you put the handcuffs back onto him, smiling as you rubbed his back before walking out with you to meet with the others.

In a way, within the four days you had known him, you trusted him and had even gained feelings for him. He felt the same, noting that you both had gained some sort of trust in one another, while Chan had also gained some feelings for you. He felt his heart slightly ache when he watched you walk away back to hack in the room, leaving him with the others. He had gotten into the bathroom, starting to take a piss when his boss came to the urinal next to him. "How's it going, Chan? Are you gaining her trust like I said to?" Chan looked up at the ceiling before sighing, letting out a nonchalant "Sure". He didn't want to reveal how deep both of your connections had gotten, his boss smiling as he patted his back. "Remember, we're doing this to become free and be heroes. Don't let her get into that head of yours. Just play her like a fiddle." Chan blocked out the rest of what his boss was saying, finishing before flushing and zipping his pants up, going to wash his hands before walking right past his boss without a second glance.

Chan seemed more distracted during his work shift, thinking about how life could be if he could get the two of you to escape; how you both could move to Australia and have a family there together and never return here. He would even work multiple jobs so you could stay hidden if that was what you wanted to. He wanted to get to know you more and found himself becoming obsessed with the idea of you. His boss must've noticed the blank and slightly annoyed expression he had on his face, sneaking over to ask him about it. "Don't tell me you've gained feelings for the bitch," Chan's eyes snapped up to meet his bosses, gripping his shirt as he told him to leave him alone and to not call you that before shoving him away. Now his boss could definitely tell something was wrong as Chan was one to always keep his cool and never laid a hand on anyone. He held his hands up, reminding him quietly of the mission before going back to his duty, leaving Chan to think about you.

He felt conflicted on whether to help his boss out or to stay put and do as you said; you had made no advances to hurt him or anyone else, nor did your coworkers. If anything, they just wanted the large amount of money you guys had in the safe and then leave successfully. It made no sense to try and escape as you and your boss would be caught and then could be killed. You didn't know what was going through your boss's head, so he decided against risking it.

He trusted you.

Day six

You and Chan had been in your own world, staying in his office where you both talked, cuddled, and sometimes fucked. He was the best lover you had in a while, so you didn't mind. He didn't have his handcuffs on when he was just within the room, and if anyone wanted to come in, you would quickly put them on him and no one could suspect a thing.

No one suspected a thing.

You both had been dreading the day you had to separate, that day now coming now. Berlin texted you to come out to the safe room's boarding dock, where the Professor had secured you all a truck that was ready to go and take you guys to a safe house. You turned to Chan, who looked heartbroken. "I can't come with you?" He asked you, you shake your head no. You both shared a sense of sadness and disappointment, Chan scoffing as he felt tears sting his eyes. How stupid could he be to think that you would take him with you and run away with him? You rushed to write something down on a piece of paper, slipping it to him in his handkerchief before kissing him one last time before you lead him to where everyone else was waiting before leaving with the others.

Chan kept his head down as he listed to the truck drive away and his coworker rush out of the building and call the cops. He slowly stood up, fixing his glasses before he walked out to join the others, cameras, and cops rushing to check on everyone as they were checked out by paramedics. Chan felt his heart be empty and broken, his cheeks and nose burning as he held in his tears from missing you. He didn't know if had developed Stockholm syndrome or something, but he missed you a lot.

Later that night, when he returned home, he looked around his lavish apartment that felt empty. He decided to try and continue life as normal without thinking about you. He drank some wine before taking a shower, placing his suit on a hanger to go get dry cleaned when he remembered what you did with his handkerchief. He pulled it out, placing his suit down as he opened it, noticing a note from you.

Give me a week.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, I'll take the next client!"

Chan smiled at his secretary, who shot him a wink before going to retrieve the next client. She had been so flirty with him all the time, asking him out to dinner all the time. His coworkers told him to at least give her a try, but he couldn't do it. He was still hung up on you and he couldn't think of anyone else but you. He ended up moving to a different bank as their cyber security specialist and bank account overseer. It was a bit lonelier than his other job, but he sort of liked it.

"Good Afternoon, Mr. Chan"

Chan's eyes widened at the sound of your voice, his head snapping up as he saw you walk in. You wore a bucket hat to cover your head, but your outfit looked similar to what you wore when you both first met. His mouth dried as you sat down before him, a smile on your face that he found infectious. "I told you to give me a week," you chuckled, Chan, nodding as he stared at you. You may have changed your hair color and cut your hair a bit shorter, but he could tell it was still you. You slid your new ID and social security number over to him, Chan looking it over. Your boss must've gotten you a brand new ID and SS number, both looking legit. He looked up your name, your records popping up that you were an orphan from Australia that had just immigrated to South Korea.

"Y/N? Such a beautiful name. It says here you're from Australia?" He asked, a smile on his face as he handed both back to you, you winking at him before nodding. "I'm from Australia, maybe we could both take a trip there soon." He forward in his chair as he eyed you, you doing the same. He missed having you so close, almost kissing you before you pulled back to lean back in your chair. "I want to open a secure bank account that can be used all around the world and I heard you were the guy for the job." He nodded at you, pulling out the papers you needed to sign. He liked seeing you in mundane clothing and without the gun and mask, finding you more attractive that way. Maybe this time, he could take you out and-

"Hey, Chan I have a question to ask you"

He snapped out from his daydream, turning to face you as he nodded. He had been daydreaming often lately, thinking about you. Now that you were in front of him, he didn't have to.

"Are those windows as tinted as the ones in your old office or..?" Chan smirked at your question, nodding as tapped it with his knuckles to show how sturdy it was. "The office is also sound proof as well," you nodded, biting your bottom lip before you played with the pen, Chan watching as you bit it. He swore the air left his lungs when you did, smirking as he stood up to stand next to you, which looked normal to anyone who passed by, but to you both, his hand was gripping your thigh and was moving closer to the top of your pants. "Do you want me to show you?" He asked you in a low voice, you nodding. He smirked, standing up straight before walking over to his computer to turn off the security camera that was in his room before walking to close the door, placing a do not disturb note on the door before fully closing it, locking it before turning around to face you already on his desk, swinging your legs as you both stared at one another. He eyed your outfit, biting his bottom lip before he leaned against the wall, his dark eyes now meeting yours.

"Take everything off for me, then go against the mirror. Let me remind you who's in charge."

Part two??

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companionjones · 2 years

Text

Different

Pairing: Eleventh!Doctor x Fem!Reader

Fandom: Doctor Who

Summary: You’re to be executed, and the Doctor has to find a way to save you. Or have you already saved yourself?

Warnings: Blood, injuries, sadness over partner being hurt

*******

The Doctor was blinded by his fear, which was awful because he needed to be focused to find one very special thing: you.

There was a reason the Doctor liked you so much. You were compassionate enough to want to help a princess who was in danger, and you were clever enough to find a way to get her onto a ship and away from the country she was held prisoner in.

Unfortunately, you had been captured for your deeds, and were sentenced to death. Your execution would be carried out at sunset that day. The Doctor needed to find you.

He was desperately searching the dungeons when he discovered proof that his worst fear had come to pass: You had been taken to the throne room early. You were likely already dead.

When the Doctor stormed the main room of the castle--tears were brimming his eyes--he was met with a scene that was completely opposite from what he had been expecting.

Multiple men were on the floor, either unconscious or dead, and the rest of the guards were pointing their weapons at the King’s head. Or, rather, slightly to the right of the King’s head. There you were, holding a knife to the King’s throat.

From the state of you, it had not been an easy fight. Scraps and cuts littered all of your exposed skin, and you still had a look on your face that made it obvious that you wanted out.

The Doctor opened, “I told you boys she wasn’t going without a fight. Granted, I thought that fight would be coming from me, but I guess we’ve all made the mistake of underestimating a woman today.”

“Any...Any ideas, Doctor?” you struggled to speak due to a red stain on your shirt that was only growing in size.

The Doctor took a moment to compose himself after spotting your worst injury, “Just a moment, I’m thinking. Not all of us do as well on their feet as apparently you do.” Despite the gravity of the situation, the Doctor wanted to put a smile on your face. His hearts soared when he was successful.

The King started to say something. Something that showed how completely horrified he was at your behavior while also managing to be condescending at the same time. However, the King had just managed to get his first couple words out when the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver to cause an explosion as a distraction.

It worked. Your only roadblock to the Doctor was one of the guards managing to get in your way. But you blocked his sword’s attack with your knife, punched the man in his face, then took the Doctor’s hand. The two of you were out of there.

Of course, the King sent his men after you, and you and the Doctor ran all the way back to the TARDIS. You were about ready to collapse when the blue door closed behind you, but the Doctor caught your bloody form. “Oh, no. You’re not done yet.” As quickly as he could, he helped you to the infirmary. He lifted you onto one of the metal tables and rushed to fetch the needed medical supplies.

“This would go over easier if you laid down,” the Doctor softly notified, but you just shook your head. “Let’s just get this this over with.”

You both cringed as the Doctor spread the fast-healing cream over the stab wound in your side. You gritted your teeth at the sensation and let out a rough exhale.

You were different from the other companions. The Doctor would never dream of taking you home because of who you were to him. He also knew that if he were to ever somehow succeed in getting you home, you would find a way to travel space and time back to him to make him regret ever even thinking about leaving you. That didn’t mean that he could stand seeing you hurt.

As he spread the ointment over the rest of your injuries, you leaned your head on the Doctor’s shoulder. When your face had to be done, you leaned against his forehead. As he wiped the cream onto your skin, you wiped the tears from his cheeks. When he was done, you held him to you for a moment, and captured his lips with your own.

“Thank you,” he breathed when you parted from him.

You smiled and returned the sentiment. “Thank you.”

*******

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading! Fill up that heart and reblog if you liked it. I would also really appreciate a comment, if you have the time. If you would like to read more, you should check out my masterlist. Have a nice day, night, or whatever time it is for you. <3 <3 <3

#eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #the doctor #the doctor x reader #matt smith #companion jones #different

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yanderes-galore · 1 year

Note

Hiii If you ever feel bored or anything I hope your having a good day and if you want can I get headcanons of yandere toga or normal toga if you feel more comfortable with a shy and timid s/o if you need some context they only spend time with her you can make them quirk less and lov only allows it because toga doesn’t care and she’s dangerous with them and they are intelligent maybe the obsession was that they act similar to how Deku acted before? Not exactly but if you know what I mean

Yeah, I'll see what I got! Aged up as usual.

Yandere! Himiko Toga with Timid! Darling

Short Concept/Reaction

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Blood drinking, Obsession with blood, Sadism, Kidnapping, Possessive behavior, Murder Threats, Forced relationship

Toga seems like she'd jump at a darling who shows weakness.

Weakness makes it easier for her to overpower you.

Toga would definitely make the comparison between you and her (now old) crush, Deku.

You're so timid and cute!

So perfect for her to play with.

Toga is a terrifying yandere to be around, her canon behavior is already yandere enough.

Toga has a very twisted sense of love and adoration.

She wants to scare you, cut you and make you bleed before licking it all up...!

It's even better if you're quirkless.

Then she doesn't have to worry about you fighting her.

Toga's behavior towards you is very sadistic, but that doesn't mean she doesn't love you.

In fact... when others try to take you away, she gets very violent.

To the point of murder violent.

Toga's very possessive of her obsession.

She doesn't mind hurting others if it means keeping you.

You two belong together.

Due to this, the League of Villains allow her to have her pet.

Not like they can get rid of you, they'd have their throat slit by Toga if they did.

So they allow Toga to have her weird habits.

Such as cutting you and lapping at your blood in ecstasy.

She also tries to make the point you can help them.

Maybe not with a quirk, but intel could work!

Toga gets so giddy with you.

When you're around she can't help but be overbearing.

She wants to hold you, scar you....

You being shy and timid is such a treat to her!

She obviously kidnaps you and drags you around to where the League of Villains go.

You're a prisoner.

To her? You're her beloved!

How she shows her love is almost always physical and blood related.

You being timid encourages her sadistic behavior.

She just loves your reactions!

Also, if you're scared of Toga, she knows she can get away with a lot more.

She also fell for you because you remind her a lot of Deku.

Soon, she forgets her feelings for Deku.

All she needs is you.

No one will take you away from her unless they'd like a knife in their neck.

"Ohhh...everything about you is so sweet! I just love you so much! Now hold still...."

#yandere my hero academia #yandere mha #yandere himiko toga

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rainydaywhump · 5 months

Text

Whump Drabble: Reed 1

Pt. 1 of Reed's story! Premise: Reed is a spy in a medieval-ish world. Unfortunately for him, he gets captured by a group of enemy soldiers.

Pt. 2 ->

CWs and general themes: multiple whumpers; male whumpee; descriptions of sexual abuse, forced consumption of alcohol, interrogation, and dehumanizing treatment of whumpee; restraints; brief vomit scene from fear. Please let me know if you'd like anything added!

Below the cut.

He couldn’t hold his tongue forever – both of them knew that, both him and the ring of enemy soldiers who were currently sleeping, save for one on guard. It was well past midnight now, and the stars above might have been beautiful if he could see them through his blindfold.

Reed’s mission had started out as a simple one: get the commander’s message to the general by traversing enemy lines on foot, trekking through the rugged wilderness that protected the enemy queen’s fortress to avoid detection. Perhaps that didn’t sound simple, but Reed was a spy, not a normal soldier; when his superior had given him the message, he memorized it and went of without a second thought.

But things had taken a downturn quickly, as they so often did. It was all his fault. He had gotten too cocky; he’d pushed through the forest past daylight, determined to shave off time, and he’d lost his way in the darkness. It was easy to navigate in the open grasslands, where the stars shined bright and clear. But he’d followed one fork in a stream when he should have gone along another, and suddenly he was waking up bound, gagged, and thrown like a ragdoll at the feet of a group of soldiers whose armor and shields all bore the crests of the very kingdom he was trying so hard to avoid.

They put him through at least six days and nights of hell after that -- the real number of days was higher, but Reed lost track of time. He refused to give up the message, and they refused to relent. Since the first day with their captive, the soldiers had ramped up their interrogation methods, and it seemed as if they were having fun with it, too. It was a way for some of them to let off steam and for others to toy with a new victim. By the fourth day, their efforts no longer had any sort of coordination behind them; the men were simply hurting Reed for their own pleasure, both as individuals and together.

Reed’s entire body was now an entire constellation of cuts, bruises, and burns. One of the soldiers, Erac, enjoyed playing with him with a knife, sliding it down his body and jabbing him if he flinched or whimpered; another, whose name Reed hadn’t learned, enjoyed prodding her helpless captive with campfire sticks in the middle of the night to startle him awake. In the morning, she counted the burn marks with glee for the other soldiers. When Reed inevitably let out a groan of pain from whatever the ten-odd soldiers were doing to him, Calac jumped to force gulps of alcohol down his throat. “This’ll help with the pain,” he always said with a wink, making the others laugh and leaving Reed to slip into hazy nausea and confusion, another layer of vulnerability added to his captivity.

Another soldier, who seemed to be at the bottom of the chain of command, found the most pleasure in tying Reed up the most. Ostensibly, it was to prevent the captive from moving when the others tortured him. But the soldier clearly enjoyed it. He bound ropes around Reed’s wrists and thighs so tightly that the prisoner’s legs and hands grew numb, and then he loosened the ropes just enough for the renewed flow of blood to hurt; he fashioned a thick leather collar and buckled it around Reed’s neck in a vice grip, laughing when the spy struggled to breath as stars burst in his vision and as the space behind his nose and between his eyes burned cold. He twisted Reed into dozens of contorted, bound positions, and the soldier would leave him there for hours, the positions never allowing him to relax and straining his muscles until he half-wondered if they would rip off.

Being tied up for long periods of time was excruciating, but Reed dreaded the nights when the man made his restraints a little more comfortable. It wasn't for his comfort, of course; it was to keep up that cloying, possessive sweetness for whichever soldier wanted to use him then, leaving him with a gaping mouth and half-lidded eyes once his captors tired of him.

The soldier's amusements created some tension, at first, between him and the leader. This soldier liked to gag Reed until the corners of his lips bled and until he couldn’t speak from the ache in his abused jaw. Not being able to speak meant that he couldn’t give any information up. But when the leader saw that Reed was determined not to crack, he’d authorized the soldier to cause as much excessive pain, discomfort, and humiliation as possible.

The soldiers never once gave Reed the opportunity to forget that he was just a plaything to them. They stripped him; they’d thrown him over their shoulders, passing him around when they tired of prodding at him, when they needed to transport him from the forest to the grasslands; they’d spit in his mouth, forced him to lick up scraps from their plates, patted him on the head with condescending, cloying, dehumanizing sweetness whenever they finished a torture session.

Somehow, as he laid awake while the other soldiers slept peacefully (save for the one who’d taken up the fourth night watch), the pets still jarred him the most.

They had left him hogtied, gagged, and blindfolded under a dead whose roots kept the taller grasses at bay, with a worn blanket being the only thing that covered him aside from the ropes. Reed came in and out of consciousness, sleep elusive and alertness impossible. With his feverish state came dreams that he could’ve sworn were real, dreams like being rescued or being killed, only for him to wake up and realize the truth with varying degrees of disappointment.

The wind rustled the tall grasses that surrounded their little clearing. The soldier on guard duty yawned audibly. Reed couldn’t yawn even if he wanted to – his jaw was already stretched to his limits by the gag.

The sudden wave of hopelessness that accompanied that miserable observation broke him. He hadn’t cried from emotion all this time; yes, he’d spilled tears from pain and exhaustion, but he hadn’t let himself, hadn’t had the time to cry out of sheer fear and sadness. How much more of this could he take? The thought of giving up the information was vile, but the thought of enduring increasingly-unhinged torture was horrific. He suddenly remembered a conversation he’d caught between the leader and another soldier as he’d passed out earlier in the day: Y’know, this boy is fun to have around. Do the higher-ups really need us to take him to them? And the other had responded, What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

Dazed, defeated, and partly delirious from exhaustion, Reed wasn’t sure if he could trust his memories. But the mere thought of being taken by these soldiers, unbeknownst even to their superiors, just made him sob harder behind the gag and blindfold. He tried to cry silently, but –

“What a pathetic sight,” the guard tsk'd from several paces away. He had been sharpening his sword to idle the time away, the metallic sound echoing in Reed’s head, but now the sound stopped.

Footsteps, muffled but still clear to Reed’s over-strained ears, came closer to him. Reed’s stomach lurched. The tears wouldn’t stop, and he was starting to choke behind the gag, and now the guard was reminded of his presence and was coming to toy with him, why had the guard’s footsteps stopped? Was he looming over Reed now, surveying his prey in satisfaction? What was he going to do?

Did Reed even deserve to plead for mercy?

After all, he’d been the one to fuck this up. He’d failed his mission. He’d let these soldiers break him to the point that now he wanted the soldier to hurt him, if only to have a sense of certainty about what state he’d be left in by morning.

Before his thoughts could carry him any further, Reed saw the tiniest crack of sky. For a split second, he could’ve sworn – and he knew he was just delirious, but for once he wanted to let himself believe – that he saw a strip of moonlight in the corner of his eye.

Under the shadow of a sea of stars, Reed’s mind and body gave out once and for all. He slipped under the waves of unconsciousness without another thought.

…

The first thing Reed registered was that he was alone.

He wasn't sure how exactly he knew this, but it was a skill he'd subconsciously honed over the past many days. And he knew, before he even opened his eyes, that no one else was in the vicinity. No one was watching him. The thought didn't make Reed feel safe, but at least he knew that he wouldn't be hurt immediately.

His body – for he had begun to think of his physical form as my body, not me, at times,because it was a little easier that way – was naked save for a thin sheet laid over it. That was strange; he should be able to feel ropes around his wrists and ankles. But no...no, he supposed it wasn't a big surprise that his captors had untied him. They knew he wouldn't run. He was in too much pain, in too much fatigue to even attempt that now, much less succeed.

He'd given up.

Given in.

No one was coming to save him, and he was glad for it. That would be a waste of decent soldiers.

Everything ached. He wondered dully if his body had stopped bleeding yet, or if his abused skin had simply stopped scabbing over. An odd sort of numbness had come over his pelvis, and his lips had been covered with some sort of viscous substance. Had the men used him while he was unconscious? It would be nice if they could do that instead of keeping him awake, he thought distractedly. But the gel tasted herbal, nothing more.

Reed couldn't resist it anymore. The last vestiges of sleep had fled at the reality of his situation, and he cracked open his eyes, ready for them to meet dry grass and scattered provisions yet again.

Instead, he saw stone.

He frowned, the gears in his hazy mind slowly turning. The air was cooler here; perhaps the camp had found some shade? Gingerly propping himself up, wincing at the pain it brought, he looked around and found himself in a cave.

His heart sped up uncontrollably and he bolted upright. “No, no, no,” he muttered, choking back a sob. He couldn't handle the claustrophobia on top of everything else, no, please, he couldn't –

“Reed.”

He spun around, breaths ragged now. An armored figure stood before him, a bundle of cloth in one hand. But it held a long, thin sword in the other, and the sword's twin hung from her belt, and that was all Reed cared about.

“Please --”

He was gasping for air now, and there was too little and too much of it all at once. The rock walls were starting to close in as they always did, and they were squeezing the oxygen out of his lungs, please, please, “Please – don't – I --”

Staccato, staccato. “Reed. You're safe. Lie back down.”

The oxygen left his lungs and pushed its way into his guts instead. Reed turned and vomited bile onto the floor.

His vision was spinning, stars dancing in front of his eyes. He tried to prop himself up further, but a swoop of dizziness propelled him backwards, backwards, until he flung himself off the other side of his cot and passed out on the cold, hard, unforgiving stone.

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