#the way he so easily overpowers her and breaks through her defenses
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#anakinskywalkeredit#ahsokatanoedit#swedit#starwarsedit#anakin skywalker#ahsoka tano#nastigifs#the way he so easily overpowers her and breaks through her defenses#rip me
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CHILUMI: # a chasmic mistake.
CHAPTER VI: defense.
chapter summary. in which the truth is discovered and a fierce duel commences.
wc. 2.9k. genre. enemies to lovers, action/adventure.
warnings. lowkey psychological manipulation!! dddne!!
— table of contents
“Hurry up and kill me, Ajax! Don’t hold back!”
Lumine would not be very easy to kill, slashing and dodging wildly as she was now, had her opponent been any other than Tartaglia, No.11 of the Fatui Harbingers. He blocked her attacks easily—far too easily for someone who had been acting all weakened for the last two days, Lumine realized—and shot at her in sprinting thrusts. His attack patterns were like those at the Golden House the first time they had dueled, and during times again afterwards when she had ambushed him. Times she had tried to stop him from coming this far. These attacks now seemed like subdued versions, but were still enough to get her blood pumping and her legs moving.
“I wish you would at least tell me what this is about!” he complained. He paused in the middle of the pool, drawing energy so that he could unleash a blast upon her. Lumine braced herself. She managed to dodge most of it, only its final wave causing her to stumble as she charged at him with her sword raised.
“You already know what it’s about, Childe.” She spat a reversion to his Fatui codename. She knew it might bother him and hoped it would.
Lumine managed to break his defenses for a split second, assailing him with a slash to the neck to match her own painful lacerations from the Abyss Herald’s talons just a few minutes before. She had not fought that beast as hard as she was fighting him. She hadn’t fought anything this hard for a very long time.
And that was for a simple reason.
Lumine had not been this pissed off in ages.
“You’re putting up a pretty good game, here,” he praised her. “How becoming.”
She only scoffed, and rolled out of the way to avoid a counter. Her mind was swimming and only knew that it was an unfair fight; that she would not take victory as an end, but he would. And yet there was nothing that would stop her.
This was the Chasm curse. She wasn’t sure whether it was fueling the infatuation or the detestation, but she was so overpowered by it now that she was sure she knew why he’d led her this far. Her only escape would have to start with his death. Then the rest of the Harbingers, if they crossed her.
Her dream had been a warning that she was taking the wrong side with Tartaglia. Perhaps, she thought, heart clenching, it had been a message directly from Aether who had somehow known.
Lumine felt a pressure to her shoulder and she fell back onto the edge of the pool with an inelegant splash. Childe loomed over her. One of his Electro blades pressed through the fabric of her—his—jacket. She couldn’t move or pull herself out from under it. He leaned further, supporting his posture with the tips of both blades pressed into the ground.
“Look at you,” he cooed. His eyes were crazed with vigor as they always were in battle. “The price of a single slip. You still have much to learn.”
She struggled, straining a hand for her sword.
“It was fun!” he declared.
He traced one of her wounds ever-so-lightly with the electrified point of his other sword. It hurt like hell. She screamed.
“Now, won’t you tell me what’s the matter? I’m dying to know.”
He sure was.
Lumine managed to reach for and grasp the hilt of her blade. She swung it at the weapon touching her neck, successfully knocking it away. But he stopped her from swinging it a second time. It then became clear that he had grabbed her sword by the blade.
Still unprepared to give up, she propelled her foot at him, managing to knock his knee in just the right way that caused him to stumble. “This only ends when you’re dead,” she insisted, pushing herself and the jacket out from under the other weapon’s pressure. Her hand curled around it as she went, pulling it right out of his grasp.
He could have killed her right there, she realized. He’d seen an opening and driven the blade right through the jacket a centimeter above. But now she bore one of his weapons, and he bore hers.
Lumine had not up until this point wielded any Electro infusion or ability. She found it to be exhilarating. It seemed to act with a mind of its own, with a haste to kill. Even as a creation of Childe’s, it seemed to want him dead just as badly as she did.
She did not waste time. Against the combination of environmental Hydro, his Electro, and Lumine’s Anemo, the Harbinger stood no chance. She soared at him, propelled by focus and loathing. And Childe, still recovering from the kick, was at her mercy.
Lumine could not help but relish in the feeling properly pinning him down, blade at his neck.
Finally.
“This isn’t you, Lumine,” came a remark from the winded Childe. This was the first true protest he had given, and she wanted to hear more.
The only issue she found was the mask, which he had pulled over his face in the beginning of the fight. She needed to see fear in his eyes. Lumine reached for the top of the mask, dragging it off his face harshly.
“Any last words, Harbinger?” Her voice was deep—hoarse—breaking. Desperate.
Finally seeing his flushed, spirited visage, she felt a twinge of something that was not hatred.
“None today,” he replied, reaching an arm to his chest. “I’ll save you from this.”
It wasn’t blind infatuation, either.
Lumine pressed the Electro blade to his pale neck, drawing beads of crimson. “One more move and you’re dead.”
Childe ignored this, grasping something at his collar and wrenching it out of place.
A new feeling came over her as if her very mind was being ripped out of her skull. Shattering her spine, clouding her sight, plugging her senses. Her strength faltered immediately. Her ears rang. It was like standing in that Abyss mud, only worse and much faster. The hatred, the infatuation, the passion—all were gone.
It was only the remaining feeling—worry. She felt worry, only worry. Pure, pristine concern for the protest in Childe’s eyes which—which she saw no more, her vision going dark as her posture fell limp and she collapsed on top of the Harbinger.
After a few seconds of feeling as if she was made of stone, Lumine panickedly regained consciousness of her senses—humiliatingly comforted by Childe’s warmth as she tried to regain her mental balance. Were those his hands holding her back?
Her sight and strength returned to normal and she pushed herself off of Childe.
She could not remember why she wanted to kill him, or that she did. But something was wrong, or had been changed. And it had to do with whatever Childe had ripped from his neck. She looked over at him.
He was sitting up. The chain necklace she had noticed earlier dangled now from his fingers, swinging gently. The charm was as irresistibly beautiful and eye-catching as it had been earlier. There wasn’t anything particular she could tell she liked about it, only that she liked the looks of it. She liked them very much.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” Childe asked, rousing her to his presence. She’d almost forgotten about him in a moment.
She nodded. The sweat and enervation of an abruptly terminated duel still held her mind in a fuzz, but something else seemed to be causing a thicker fog. She did not want to look away from the necklace.
To her disappointment, he pressed it and its chain into his palm, watching her reaction. She finally looked him in the eye.
“What was that?”
He laughed coldly. “You… don’t know?”
She glanced down at his closed palm again, shaking her head no.
He put his hand behind his back, and her gaze followed it.
“Lumine,” he said softly. “Would you back up so that I can explain? Please?”
She noticed then that she was leaning towards him rather intimately. She must have moved unconsciously to get a closer look at the charm. Lumine checked herself and did as he said.
With the charm fully out of sight, she found that she was able to recall the exact context of the situation. They’d defeated an Abyss Herald who had beckoned Childe to kill her. She had been referred to as his target. The bounty he’d been hunting. The prey he’d been luring.
It was still a terrible thing to be aware of—but she wanted him to explain himself.
“You know, Lumine,” he said as if reading her mind, “I’m shocked, really. It took you quite a while to catch on.”
She did not know what to say or think. Was he confirming it?
“You know exactly what I am,” he continued, “and you’ve known it the whole time. I never hid my mission from you. Not really.”
“You said it was… that it was world domination,” she said, stumbling over her words.
He looked like a different person right now. A dear friend, but not a villain, and not a warrior. Just a friend, apologizing and explaining.
Childe shook his head. “That’s my end goal. There are a lot of steps to that, you know. It’s no easy process.”
“What are you saying?” She selfishly hoped that he would be able to justify everything that he’d done.
“I’m saying that one of those steps is serving the Tsaritsa. And, in the least offensive way possible, you were in the way of that.”
“That was on purpose.”
He laughed again. “And that’s what made you so damn easy. Once I had your attention, distracting you—which was, of course, my mission—was simple as sight-seeing the nation, acting like I was after some rare animal.” He paused and the silence was louder than the screaming in her mind. “I’m hardly proud of it, but my goodness have you ever made it a pleasure, Lumine.”
Lumine’s mouth was dry as she stuttered, “But…”
Childe looked apologetic—and, after all these days she had spent by his side, she was fully inclined to believe it was sincere. He reached his hand to her face, gently rubbing a thumb on her cheek. “I’m sorry. I really am. I will admit that I was forced to use… alternative methods to grab your attention.”
She understood before he showed her. The necklace in his palm drew her focus almost immediately, despite her semi-frantic emotional reaction to the tenderness of his touch on her cheek.
“It’s a Snezhnayan Charm of Mild Entrancement. Nothing fancy, but works like a…”
Lumine had snatched the charm from his hand, cradling it in her palms. It felt like it was drawing in her thoughts, her emotions, her will. “Can you destroy it?”
“I—”
She tore her gaze away from it with great effort. Tears pooled in her eyes as she forcibly latched them onto Childe’s face. “I thought I was falling in love with you. Then I wanted you dead. Please destroy it, Ajax. I hate it.”
He didn’t wait another moment, taking it from her grasp. He hurled it onto the rock floor and lifted her sword from where it lay at his side. “May I—”
“Do what you have to.”
He stood and brought the edge of her blade down upon it heavily. A shing came from the impact, as both the charm and the blade shattered. The sound echoed down the cavern, and the charm was no more.
Lumine was flooded with insurmountable relief. Her unnatural edge had been destroyed with the charm and she knew it had been the cause of her madness, not the curse of the Chasm. Her wits returned, finally, and she understood.
She got to her feet, looking to Childe. “It only amplified interest, right?”
He nodded. “That sums it up. It was tuned specifically to affect you. And since I wore it, well…”
“I really did want to kill you just now, with or without that Charm.”
“I know.”
“And I really think…” She paused, noticing a moment too late that she was about to say something humiliating. “... That I…”
“Lumine, please don’t.”
She didn’t.
The cool glow from the cavern highlighted how Childe’s eyebrows were gathered, how his teeth were gritted, and how his head was tilted solemnly. “What you’re feeling right now… it may be an effect of the charm.”
Lumine’s eyes fell on the chain on which the Charm of Mild Entrancement had been. In the Charm’s place, all that remained was shattered glass-like material and substance resembling clear blood. The gold shimmer was gone.
She looked around the cave. The pool of the small cavern opened up into a larger area. In the center was something that could only be described as an immense mushroom. It had a long, thick, white stem and a cap shooting out from a thing that resembled branches. From the higher, largest cap dangled blue strings of lights. It was a beautiful, strange sight, one that she definitely would have seen before if she hadn’t been under an Entrancement spell.
And yet, looking back at Childe, she still found him as dazzling—as enticing—as he had been before… if not more than ever.
Childe’s gaze softened. “I really am sorry. And I’m sorry for how much I enjoyed it.”
She took a step closer to him, gauging her capacity to say what was on her mind. “It was scummy of you,” she declared, “and I want to hate you for it.”
He nodded again, sighing.
“How long were you supposed to be distracting me for?”
Childe took a sharp breath and clicked his tongue. “Until further notice.”
“Seems like a bothersome mission for you.”
He laughed, running his hand through his tousled hair. “As if you care about what bothers me, girlie.”
Lumine fidgeted with the sleeves of his jacket, which she still wore. She knew it had been ripped and scuffed in a few places from that fight—the same would have happened if he had been wearing it, of course. And her hair felt like it had been pulled out of place. Her neck stung, still. She put a hand to the scarf and saw her blood on it.
Childe, on the other hand, looked like he ought to be cold. They had been splashing about in the pool in the cavern, dousing each other in cave water. His hair and clothes were damp and his skin was glistening. But he looked right at home in the cool water, smiling at her like that.
“What if I do?”
The words came out of her mouth before she could think. They kept coming at the same rate.
“What if I was really falling in love with you? What if the Charm was only playing on feelings that already existed? What if the infatuation wasn’t entirely false?”
“You don’t even like me,” he said. He looked a little hopeful, but as if he was repressing. “I’m kind of a bad guy. I’m a Harbinger. We have different lives, you and I, and you don’t exactly favour mine. You know, almost killed an entire city—”
“ —Almost.”
“Yes, but I’ve murdered many others without hesitation. That’s who I am.” His voice fell to a whisper. “You know I’m not quite of this world, Lumine.”
She was becoming more confident, now that she was in her right mind. It was only becoming clear to her how it had possessed and manipulated her attention. But now that her will was her own again, she wasn’t particularly motivated to look away.
She shrugged at him, voice breaking. “Neither am I, Ajax.”
Lumine felt fingers grab her chin. She felt pressure from a hand on the back of her neck. She felt soft lips against hers; she felt warmth in her cheeks as she caught onto the situation. Childe didn’t kiss her hesitantly; it was frantic and heated. He kissed her like he had wanted to do so for a very long time. An excruciatingly long time, evidently.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, letting one hand dive into his curls. He pulled her closer.
The two paused. Lumine watched Childe slowly open his eyes and smile at her. He looked absolutely starstruck, eyes hooded and sparkling—but his hand had settled on her jaw, the other snaking firmly around her waist. It was like he wanted badly to hold her, but he could not believe that he had the opportunity to do so.
Lumine had something occur to her then. She grabbed his wrist and held it up so that she could look at the palm. Sure enough, the glove was blood-stained and cut through to his lacerated skin.
“Why the hell did you grab my blade like that?” she scolded, inspecting the injury.
“Ah—Lumine, that hurts!”
“Idiot.”
“Come on, now. You gave me no choice. You were trying to kill me.”
Lumine gazed up at him. “And you were having too much fun, Harbinger.”
He pouted.
“Fine… Ajax.”
“Lumine,” he mimicked her, tilting his head with a grin.
She finally, finally smiled at him. And in the darkness of the Chasm, in the pool swirling with a bit of each of their blood, she had one more question left in her mind.
“So. What the hell are we gonna do now, Ajax?”
fin.
author’s note. so. there we have it. i am without words because i'm just excited about the fact that i've finished posting it now, but i really must say that it has been wonderful receiving feedback on this fic over the last five weeks and i see all of you that kept up and read the whole thing. thanks for being patient and reading through to the end. i am always sincerely grateful when people take the time to read my works.
without further ado, this has been A CHASMIC MISTAKE.
comments are valued and appreciated.
➳ GENSHIN MASTERLIST
#a chasmic mistake.#chilumi#favoniuslibrary#genshin fanfic#tartaglia fluff#genshin series#childe fic#genshin impact lumine#tartaglia x lumine#childe x lumine#tartaglia x traveler#ajax x lumine#genshin x traveler#childe#lumine#tartaglia#ITS DONE IM DONE GOODBYEEEEEEE#i am so satisfied with this. i had a ball writing it#YIPPEEEE
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Stitches // 8
Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader
Summary: Frank dislikes the thought of the reader going about her day to day life without being able to properly defend herself so he decides to take matters into his own hands.
Warnings: none
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 BONUS
MASTERLIST
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Y/N's POV
Stepping into the empty boxing gym I was met with a sweaty, shirtless Frank Castle who is currently abusing the poor punching bag with his deadly punches. My heels hitting the concrete floor could barely be heard as he overpowered it with each strike he landed on the bag.
"You told me to meet you here after work to watch you break a sweat?" Breaking out of his zone, Frank turned to face me shooting me a soft smile. Abandoning the punching bag he came over to me, planting a chased kiss on my lips.
"As fun as that might sound to you, I told you to meet me here for a reason." he held onto the straps of my purse and slid it down my arm, successfully removing it from my person as he guided me to the bench which had his gym bag.
"There's some clothes in there for you to change into for this." Unzipping the bag my black and white Nike trainers as well as my black leggings and sports bra came into view. I kicked off my heels and started hiking the leggings up my legs, removing the skirt I had worn to work this morning.
"You still haven't told me what this is." I undid my blouse and pulled my sports bra on before removing the other. Sitting on the bench I stuck my feet in my sneakers and laced them up.
"I'm going to teach you a couple basic defensive moves that I think you should know. I know I didn't talk to you about it but I'm not comfortable with you out there with nothing more than your pepper spray.” Rolling my eyes I walked over to him and he quickly kissed my temple.
“Okay, first thing that we’re going to do is…” he moved over to his bag and pulled out his trusty glock 19, he removed the magazine to ensure that it was empty and put it back in, he also double checked the chamber.
"Teach you how to disarm someone without getting shot in the process. I thought Amy to do it and if she could get it down, so can you sweetheart." Smiling he held the weapon securely in his hand and motioned for me to attempt taking it from his grasp.
I tried to recall what Luke had shown me before as I pushed the barrel of the gun away from me but apparently I forgot the rest. Frank easily shoved me away with his elbow. Chuckling at my failed attempt he stood directly in front of me and started talking me through it.
"You got one part right, you deflected the aim of the weapon away from you, now you're going to take your other hand and put it under my wrist, palm open and pull back towards you." I slowly followed the steps until the weapon was now in my hand, pointed at him.
"Alright, let's pick up the pace with it." I passed it back to him and he got ready. Taking a deep breath I quickly sprung into action, this time successfully disarming the ex-marine, holding him at gunpoint.
"You're in control of the situation now, you've got the gun in your hand and pointed at the offender, what do you do now?" his brown eyes were locked with mine as he spoke in his gruff tone.
"Pull the trigger."
Click
"Atta girl."
I held the gun out for him and he took it from me, securing it back in the bag. He lightly smacked my ass on his way over to the boxing ring in the middle of the room.
"Yeah, no. I'm not getting in there with you." He's delusional if he thinks I'm going to get in that ring with his built self.
"Come on sweetheart, I'll go easy on you, promise."
"Your definition of easy and my definition of easy are completely different Castle." Unphased, he held onto the rope waiting for me to get in the ring. Grunting, I gave in under his stern look and climbed in.
"Happy now?"
"Very." He positioned himself behind me as he filled me in on what he's about to teach me, wrapping his arm around me, pinning my arms at my sides.
"Alright so someone just grabbed you from behind, you're going to wiggle your dominant hand first and take a step forward to maintainyour balance." Frank has a tight grip on me which makes it a bit difficult for me to do but I got my arm out and did as told.
"Now throw your elbow back, try to aim for their jaw, temple or cheekbone and keep doing that until they let go." I carefully threw my elbow back at him not wanting to actually hurt him and he chuckled behind me, his breath fanning against the shell of my ear.
"I can take it sweetheart, give it all you've got. Right now I'm not your boyfriend, I'm someone who's trying to snatch you off the street." I shuddered at the graze of his stubble on my exposed shoulder.
Now's not the time to get riled up Y/N
We started from the top again and this time my elbow connected with his jaw and cheekbone a couple times before he finally let me go. Impressed he held onto his jaw, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"That's going to leave a bruise." I tilted his head to the side to get a better look at his cheek which is surely going to turn blue-black from my blows to his face.
"At least you gave it to me."
His lips pressed against mine in a quick kiss before we went over that move a couple more times.
Frank and I were going over different self defense moves completely forgetting about the time and outside world. I already know I'm going to be sore from this workout but at least it is beneficial to me.
Luke never really got to teach me how to properly defend myself so I'm glad that Frank decided to do so himself, saving me the trouble of asking him too.
It's been roughly three months since everything that went down and we both fell back into our old pattern, well, minus him leaving at the two month mark like last time. He still does his thing but in a more cleaner way, I never ask and he doesn't care to share details.
Honestly the less I know about his dealings with the scumbags of this city, is better for me.
No matter what though, he still manages to come home to me at the end of it all and that's all I seem to care about. That and his safety of course.
"Alright sweetheart, I think we've done enough for today. Let's get going, if we leave now we can get some food on the way back." All breathless and sweaty we exited the ring making our way over to the bench. I cracked the seal of the bottle of water, chugging half of it in one go.
"Or, we could go home and order a pizza." My muscles ached everywhere, legs aren't too far from giving out either. Nodding he slung both our bags over his shoulder, my handbag in his left hand.
"Sounds like a plan."
We left the gym and got into his Ford truck, a content sigh fell past my lips as I relaxed into the leather seat. His large hand found its way over the console and onto my thigh as he pulled out of the parking lot.
His phone started buzzing and he sighed reaching to fish it out of his pocket. With one look at the screen he declined it and dropped it between his thighs, focusing on the road. It vibrated again, a text this time.
Then it started buzzing again, exhaling he answered, putting it on speaker.
"How'd you find me Madani?" my eyebrows furrowed, what could she possibly want?
"I'm with the CIA now Frank, I can find anything."
"What do you want?"
There's one thing she could possibly be calling him for and it's certainly not to catch up but his skill set, I'm sure of it.
"I've got a very bad man with a target on his back, I need someone good enough to take the shot." Rolling my eyes I leaned my head against the cool glass, watching the lights on the buildings we drove past.
"So what happened? Got sick of reading people their rights?"
"I guess I've spent too much time with you huh? We need good people here to get things done and let's face it, when it comes to this stuff, you're the best." There was a brief pause and Frank looked over at your quiet, sulking state. He knew you thought that he was going to jump at whatever this was.
"I'm offering you a job, Castle."
"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm good where I am. You take care." He hung up the phone and placed his hand back on my thigh, thumb rubbing against the spandex material.
"Told you sweetheart, I'm not leaving." I covered his hand with mine giving it a light squeeze.
The rest of the drive home was relatively quiet aside from the music playing on the radio. He cursed under his breath as he pulled up to the curb.
Amy was sitting on the steps with her backpack next to her feet. Sheepishly she smiled at us as we got out.
"Before you get mad at me you should know that I missed you so I came back to- oh, okay. This is good too." Frank had bypassed my and flew up the steps to wrap her up in his arms, cradling the back of her head.
He really did miss her.
I retrieved the key from my hand bag and unlocked the door. The two filed in after me and locked the door behind them.
"I'm sorry for showing up unannounced like this." She dropped her bag next to the coffee table, her eyes taking in her surroundings.
"It's fine Amy, it's nice to see you again."
"But as nice as it is to see that you're okay kid, why are you back here?"
"I got bored in Florida, I missed having you around, despite you being in a cranky mood twenty four hours, seven days a week." I giggled at her statement earning myself one of his infamous stares.
"Do you have anywhere to stay?"
"No, I not too long got back to the city."
"Well, there's a spare room two doors down on the left. You could crash here if you want." Frank didn't seem too keen on that blind suggestion but he didn't say anything.
"Thank you, Y/N."
"Don't mention it, I'm going to hop in the shower, you mind ordering for us?" He pulled his phone out and dialed the pizza parlor as I made my way to the bathroom.
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Frank's POV
Something's up with the kid
She's been picking at her nails and averting my eye contact ever since Y/N left us alone. I lost track at how many times she stopped and resumed bouncing her leg.
"What did you get yourself into kid?" My voice was low as I sat next to her, she immediately clung to me.
"Someone came after me in Florida a couple days ago, said that he was going to send a message to you, Y/N and a bunch of other people." Every fiber of my being froze while she cried into my shirt, my mind is working over time.
"He said that his boss wants you all dead and he won't stop until you are."
There's only one person that comes to mind at this very moment and it better not be who I suspect it is otherwise Red is going to get a not so friendly visit from me.
"What were the other names Amy?" my blood is boiling hot right now with rage
"Matthew Murdock, Franklin Nelson and Karen Page, why, do you know them?"
And just like I suspected,
Wilson Fisk.
Christ
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It’s Been A Long, Long Time | Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader ch 3
Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back…and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!
Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four
Warnings: A/B/O, some light angst
Tags: @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch @shawnie--jo
Amoretta woke to the sound of a familiar alarm blaring through the compound. It was loud enough to make her wince and curl up, seeking out the warmth of her alpha while he laid next to her. She knew what the sound meant; he was officially finished with his rut, and they were going to be separated again.
The thought made her heart ache. She couldn’t take much more of this. All she wanted was to stay by his side, her instincts telling her that he was the perfect one to watch over and protect her even if she didn’t need a protector. Though all of her suppressants greatly toned down the way she yearned and cried for him, nothing could erase those feelings completely, and each time the guards came to take him away from her, it hurt a little bit more.
“‘Mega,” he said, voice extra low and rumbly from sleeping.
“Alpha,” she sighed, rubbing her nose against his neck.
He returned the gesture, tucking his face down into her scent gland and inhaling deeply. Even though she didn’t smell as strongly as omegas he encountered while out in the field, he loved her scent more than anything he had ever found before. Plus, her own scent being weaker meant that it was easier to cover her with his, and before the guards could come in and order him to leave, he made sure to rub his own gland all over her hair.
Amoretta sighed happily as he scented her, enjoying the smell of motor oil and cloves. If she was lucky, it wouldn’t fade before she got to see him again, and she would be able to at least catch a slight hint of him in her hair whenever she moved.
“My omega,” the soldier purred, nosing her cheek to try and get her to look at him.
She smiled softly, placing a hand on his jaw. “Your omega.”
The sound of a metal door sliding open made her close her eyes. She didn’t want this to end. She didn’t want to go back to her cell and spend another three months bored.
“Longing,” a Russian voice over the intercom suddenly said.
Amoretta let out a dejected breath. They were taking him away again.
Her alpha moved to get up, listening to the words he had heard countless times before. His body was moving of its own volition, his limbs untangling themselves from hers even though he wanted to stay right there with her forever.
“Rusted.”
He growled softly, a hand lingering on his omega’s neck.
“Furnace.”
“Don’t go,” she whimpered, staring up at him with big, sad eyes.
His hand moved to cup her cheek, a calloused thumb brushing over her skin. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to do as she asked.
“Daybreak.”
He knew he was supposed to listen to the trigger words. They always commanded him, keeping him in check so that he could never have too much free thought. This time, he knew they would be followed by orders to get up and go back to his quarters so that he could await further instruction.
But he didn’t want to.
“Seventeen.”
He couldn’t remember the last time he had had such a strong urge to disobey. It wasn’t overpowering, by any means, but it was enough for him to hesitate instead of walking away immediately.
“Benign.”
The omega on the cot looked distraught. He didn’t like it. He wanted her to be looking at him, paying attention to him, keeping her focus on him. She shouldn’t be staring at the wall, averting her gaze from the naked alpha before her.
“”Mega,” the soldier said, getting her attention again.
“Nine.”
“Hm?” she looked at him, and she felt like she was getting caught up in those icy blue eyes.
“Homecoming.”
For a moment, he just looked down at her. She was so lovely, so perfect.
“Be good.” he said.
She sat up slightly, staring at him. He had never said that before, not like that, not in that way. He called her good omega, good girl, pretty omega...he told her to be obedient, he praised her whenever she listened to him...but he had never told her be good, not with that tone. It was almost like...a warning, or...a promise?
“One.”
His nostrils flared, chest heaving with a sigh as he turned away from her.
“Wait!” she called, reaching for him.
But he was already facing the door.
“Freight car.”
The soldier bowed his head. “Ready to comply.”
Amoretta let out a pitiful wail, watching helplessly as her alpha was ordered to return to his cell. The worst part was how he did so, and he seemed so willing to leave her behind. She knew he was under HYDRA’s full control, she knew that they liked to go in and mess with his brain whenever he showed any independence, but it still felt like she was being broken up with every single time she had to watch him leave.
“Omega,” the voice said as the door slid shut. “Return to your cell and prepare for cryo.”
Another door opened and she stood slowly, wiping away tears that she knew she shouldn’t have had. She felt stupid for caring so much. Her hopes for a better, normal life were always crushed whenever HYDRA separated them again, and watching him walk away like that without a glance back at her was taking its toll on her emotional health.
Without much other choice, she trudged down the narrow corridor, dragging her feet despite the threat of the cattle prods behind her. While the soldier was obedient enough to be allowed to walk on his own, they never trusted Amoretta, still all too aware of how much she liked to lash out at her handlers.
They shoved her into her holding cell, where she spent about an hour waiting around before they returned to drag her off to the lab. Sometimes, when the soldier wasn’t going to be needed for a while, HYDRA put him in cryo. Amoretta once heard a doctor saying that it was to preserve his longevity, but she was pretty sure it was just that they didn’t want to deal with him all the time. When that happened, they put her into cryogenesis, too, letting her sleep until her alpha was thawed out.
She supposed she should be grateful for the long naps, sometimes spending months or even years at a time not having to think about the way that HYDRA kept her as a prisoner, but she hated it. She didn’t like being away from her alpha, and whenever they brought her back out of cryo, she had a tendency to get sick.
It wasn’t pleasant.
This time, as the doctors strapped her down, she snarled at them. She was tired of this, tired of her life with HYDRA. She was reaching her breaking point, finally.
“Quiet,” a beta doctor snapped, picking up a syringe.
Amoretta rolled her eyes. “Or what?”
He glared at her. “You don’t want to find out.”
“You won’t get rid of me. You need me.” she growled.��
“We don’t need you.” the man scoffed. “We can easily find another omega that can take the serum. You aren’t special, Subject 1096.”
“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you?” she dared to ask. “Why give me a number and keep me around for so long if I’m not important?”
“You omegas are always so sappy.” he said, a disgusted tone to his voice. “You’re convinced the Winter Soldier is your mate, aren’t you?”
“He seems to think so.” she said defensively.
“Does he?” the doctor pressed the needle to her arm. “Or is he just happy to have something around to fuck?”
Amoretta wanted to bite his hand off for being so rude. She wanted to scream and snap and thrash, proving that they had made a mistake when they decided to give her of all omegas the serum. She was stronger than they knew. She could tear this doctor apart if she got ahold of his hand as he stood just out of her reach. Amoretta wanted HYDRA to regret the day they chose to make her so powerful.
But the tranquilizer was already being injected into her veins, and she could feel herself floating away. Her vision swam, her skin suddenly feeling cold as she was lowered into her cryo pod for a nice, long, icy nap.
She wished her soldier was there with her, but he wasn’t. Instead, she was all alone, left to sleep and hope for sweet dreams filled with his cold blue eyes and the low rumble of his voice.
--
“Widow, you copy?”
“Loud and clear, Cap.” a feminine voice said through the earpiece.
Steve Rogers nodded to himself as he crept through the dark hallways. Checking out abandoned HYDRA bases wasn’t his favorite pastime, but it was an important one, and he’d be damned if he let Nat and Clint go without him for a mission like this. Besides, he owed it to Bucky to make sure everything was taken care of; he knew how much it frustrated his friend that he wasn’t allowed near HYDRA facilities yet.
But they just couldn’t risk anything happening, not when he had finally managed to free himself of HYDRA’s influence on his mind.
Thanks, Wakanda.
“What’s your position, Cap?” Natasha asked.
“Northeast hall,” Steve answered as he rounded a corner. “Looks like medical facilities. There’s no sign of--”
As soon as he had opened his mouth, a row of low emergency lights flickered to life on the floor, illuminating his path and bathing the hallway in a red glow.
“There’s still power. Stay alert.” he warned.
“Copy that.”
Shield in hand, Steve made his way to a set of doors, nudging them open as quietly as he could.
He really wasn’t expecting what he saw.
He had definitely stepped into some sort of medical bay, gurneys and instruments left abandoned whenever HYDRA had up and left this place. If it weren’t for the staleness of the air and complete absence of life, it would have looked like the doctors had been there only moments before.
As Steve made his way around crude operating tables, sheet plastic crinkling under his boots, he spotted a soft blue glow coming from a small doorway in the corner of the room. He adjusted his grip, keeping his shield raised just in case, but as he neared the lightsource, he lowered it again.
“Nat, you’re gonna wanna come see this.”
It only took a few minutes for Black Widow to reach her teammate, and when she did, she let out a low whistle.
“That’s a cryo pod.” she said, leaning towards the metal device. “And it sure looks like it’s being used.”
“Is whoever’s in it alive?” Steve asked.
“Only one way to find out. Care to do the honors?” Natasha nodded towards the metal handle on the front of the pod.
“Is this safe?” Steve put down his shield.
“This place has been abandoned since the late 80s. Seems like the end of the Cold War scared HYDRA away from a lot of their bases.” Natasha said, peering through the small, frosted glass window into the pod. “But there’s definitely someone in there.”
“Well, we can’t exactly lug this whole thing out to the plane,” Steve sighed, grabbing the heavy metal handle.
As he wrenched it to the side, he could hear a pneumatic hiss, air rushing out of the lock. With a heavy clang, the pod opened, and Steve was able to pull the door to the side.
Doing so revealed a young woman, her scent too muted by the chill of cryo sleep to tell what her secondary gender was. She was nude, the sight of her causing Steve to avert his gaze in embarrassment. Natasha either didn’t notice or didn’t care, and as she pulled a glove off and pressed her hand to a cold forehead, there seemed to be movement behind the woman’s eyelids.
“Wow. She’s frozen.” Widow commented, moving her hand down to press two fingers against her neck. “...I’ve got a pulse here, though. We’d better get her out to the transport.”
Steve nodded, taking Natasha’s place as she stepped back to call in their find. Still doing his best to be a gentleman and avoid looking at the girl, he quickly unbuckled the brittle leather straps holding the girl in place, freeing her arms and legs before pulling her out of the pod. Her skin was icy against him, but Nat was right--he could feel her heart beating slowly, her pulse speeding up towards something more normal and less like hibernation.
“Here. Found this in a cupboard.” Natasha appeared with a musty blanket in her arms, draping it around the woman’s shoulders.
Steve wrapped it around her before picking her up, finally daring to look down at her now that she was covered. Her hair was long and dark, and though her cheeks were a bit gaunt, no doubt thanks to HYDRA’s general disregard for human life, she didn’t seem too worse for wear. He couldn’t see any bruises on her face or neck, and her scent glands looked to be free of any mating bonds.
Well, at least she wasn’t missing anybody special, right? Being separated from a bonded mate for so long could kill a person, especially if they happened to be an alpha or an omega. Steve still couldn’t smell for sure, but this girl had such a small stature that he had a suspicion she might be the latter.
He caught a glimpse of a thin metal identification band around her wrist, almost like the kind used to track wild animals. On it, Steve could see SUBJECT 1096 stamped in, and he couldn’t help but grimace. What did that mean? That she was an experiment?
As he followed Natasha out into the abandoned hallway, the girl in his arms stirred slightly. She rubbed her cheek against Steve’s chest, nuzzling into him as if searching for a scent. When she didn’t seem to find what she expected, he caught her furrowing her brow, her lips turning down in a slight frown.
“Alpha?” she asked quietly, voice barely audible.
“You’re safe now,” Steve said, trying to reassure her. She was right, he was an alpha, and he did his best to cover her in a calming scent. The last thing he wanted was a panicked omega on his hands.
“Not...alpha…” she said weakly, eyes still closed. She raised a hand, grabbing at Steve’s chest with tired fingers. “T-take me home…”
“We’re going somewhere safe,” he said, quickening his pace. “I promise. You’re okay now.”
She let out a tiny whine, squirming half heartedly in his grip. “Want...my alpha…”
As Steve and Natasha walked out of the hidden HYDRA bunker and waited for Clint to bring the plane down, the scent of fresh air finally roused the omega enough that she opened her eyes. Steve looked down at her, worry written all over his face, and as her gaze met his, she looked disappointed.
Those weren’t the blue eyes she was hoping for. She didn’t know this alpha, and she wanted nothing to do with him. She wanted her soldier back, not this stranger. But she was too tired to fight, still drowsy from her time in cryo, and as he carried her onto the transport, she passed out again, hoping that her alpha would come and find her and take her away from the people she was stuck with now.
“What--what’s this?” Clint asked, turning in the pilot’s seat as Nat and Steve boarded the plane.
“She was in cryo,” Natasha said, grabbing an emergency cot and laying it out in the back. “Pulse is there, but we’ve got no idea how healthy she is otherwise.”
“We need to get her back to the tower.” Steve said, setting her down.
“You got it, Cap.” Clint turned back around. “Weather’s good. Should be just a couple hours til we’re there.”
“I’ll let Bruce know.” Natasha took the copilot’s seat, immediately grabbing a headset to radio back.
As the craft took off, Amoretta was stuck in an unwelcome sleep. The last thing she wanted was to be unconscious right now, when she knew she was surrounded by unfamiliar alphas. She was grateful for the fresh air, but with it came the scents of people, of strangers, and she didn’t like that one bit. As out of it as she was, she knew that she had been taken out of cryo, and everything else just felt wrong.
The alpha she had woken up with wasn’t hers. She had been so happy at first, thinking that her soldier had been the one to carry her out of the base...until she caught his scent and realized that it was wrong. The second she knew she was in someone else’s arms, all she wanted to do was thrash and kick and bite, but she simply didn’t have the strength yet.
So she had to settle for sleeping, and, thankfully, dreaming.
Cryo never seemed to give her dreams, at least not any that she could ever remember. It felt like it had been forever since she had a normal nap, though, and her mind was happy to wander. Thoughts of her soldier swirled around each other, and for the first time in a long time, she was sleeping peacefully.
With nothing else to do, Steve took a seat next to the omega, strapping himself in. And leaning back with a sigh. Who was she, and why was her scent so muted? He had never encountered an omega who was so...well, scentless before. Even when they took suppressants to keep their heats at bay, they still reeked of omega. He never thought anything could change that, but apparently, something could.
As they flew home, he found himself staring down at her, wondering why HYDRA had her in cryo for so long. She had to be important for them to keep her around, right? They weren’t known for wasting their time with people they couldn’t use. But, then again...what use could they possibly have for an omega who didn’t even smell like one? It didn’t make sense.
“Maybe she was a test subject.” Natasha said, practically reading his mind.
“Think so?” Steve asked, tearing his eyes away from the omega to look at the spy.
“We found her in a lab.” She shrugged. “Before the Berlin Wall came down, they had their hands in everything. The Soviets funded countless experiments on omegas.”
Steve frowned. “Guess I missed a lot while I was in that ice.”
“Eh, not much.” Clint said. “Just the same old shit.”
Steve gave him a look.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Same old stuff. Better, goody two shoes?”
“Better.”
Barton snorted a laugh. “Come on, work is the one place I can swear without a kid overhearing! You’ve gotta give me a pass once in a while.”
“Never said you couldn’t swear,” Steve sighed, leaning his head back again. He wanted to know what HYDRA was doing with this omega. Were they experimenting on her? She looked like she was fairly healthy, so whatever they had done must not have taken much of a physical toll on her.
There was also the matter of why they had left her behind when they abandoned their base. There hadn’t been any signs of struggle, at least not that he had seen. It looked like HYDRA had simply chosen to get up and leave one day a few decades ago, with no obvious reasoning as to why.
Steve had to admit he didn’t really understand why they did what they did. His job wasn’t to analyze their motives, though; his job was to stop them, and that’s what he was going to do. Rescuing this omega was just one small part of that. Of course, it would help if he knew why he had stumbled across her, and what they had been using her for.
As soon as they landed, Bruce’s assistants were waiting with a gurney, Dr. Banner himself standing nearby. Steve rushed the still-sleeping omega out, placing her down as gently as he could and then watching as she was taken inside to their medical facilities.
“So...you found her in cryo?” Bruce asked, following after his new patient.
Steve nodded stiffly. “There was no one else there. The whole place was running on backup batteries.”
Banner made a thoughtful noise as they walked inside. “She’s been asleep this whole time?”
“She woke up briefly while I was carrying her out to the transport. Other than that, she’s been out cold.”
“We’ll have to run some tests to see what’s going on with her.”
“Is she gonna be alright, Doc?” Steve asked.
Bruce stopped outside the lab doors. “Without knowing how long she was on ice and what exactly they were doing with her...it’s hard to say.”
Steve frowned.
“But...the fact that she hasn’t gone into shock yet is a good sign.” He turned to enter the room. “I’ll have FRIDAY grab you when I’ve got more answers.”
Steve just nodded, standing back and watching the doctor disappear after the mystery omega. Banner was a good guy, and as an omega himself, he would do everything he could to ensure that this one was well taken care of. Steve had no doubt in his mind that Bruce would see that she pulled through.
Something wasn’t sitting right about all this, though. The situation was bothering him beyond belief. Seriously, what was going on? What was he missing? What was so special about subject 1096?
Maybe Bucky would have an idea.
#alpha bucky#alpha bucky barnes#alpha!bucky x omega!reader#alpha!bucky#abo#omegaverse#it's been a long long time#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x oc#avengers x reader#avengers x oc
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Just Wait
Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader
Word Count: 1,989
Summary:
Notes: I hope this is all right.
Dialogue Prompt: “Try and stay calm, okay? Help is coming.”
The wind was howling through the air. Snow whipping past your face and obscuring your view. All that you could see were the elegant spikes of Rhaegal’s neck. The pebbled scales being the only comfort to your numbing hands. You wince as the winds howls were intersected by the wails of the damned. Glowing blue eyes appearing before your eyes as you blinked.
Glancing down, you could see nothing but the unending swirl of white in the pitch blackness.
How many of your friends had already perished below you?
How many would you never see again?
How many would you never be able to properly bury?
The questions only cause the growing pit in your stomach to become that much larger. Your hands clench around Rhaegal’s spike. Trying your best to keep your breath steady as he took another sharp turn. Your body pressing against his neck in order to stay upright. Squinting doing little to alleviate the temporary blindness the action caused.
Craning your neck, you look up in hopes that the moon would be able to guide you to where you needed to be. You were only met by even more suffocating darkness-- even the clouds having lost their glow. Curses fall from your lips as you angle Rhaegal down into another dive. Getting too close to the ground could prove to be fatal but you had no choice; images of Viserion’s lifeless body falling from the sky comes unbidden to your mind at the thought. Your heart breaking all over again as you remember his pain-filled cry. How Rhaegal had echoed it as you both tried to desperately save him. Your gentle boy being swallowed by ice and snow; only to be awakened by the very thing that had cursed him.
You hadn’t seen Viserion yet but you had heard his roars. The once gentle and calming sound turned ragged. A mournful howl for everything that was lost and that had to continue to be. In the same manner, you hadn’t seen Drogon or Daenerys since the battle had begun. Both you and Rhaegal taking to the outside defenses to make sure there wouldn’t be any stragglers. Even now you couldn’t hear the sounds of Drogon’s mighty roars or the cries of battle.
You and Rhaegal were completely alone. In the ghost filled sky that promised nothing but despair when it used to offer nothing but freedom.
That is until a sharp cry from above you caused every hair on your body to stand on end. Your head snapping up towards the sound, even as you made Rhaegal dive to the side, and nothing could have prepared you for the sight of seeing Viserion.
Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of seeing him so broken. His scales, once so vibrant, turned ashen and lifeless.
His gentle face devoid of any emotion except for the mind-numbing coldness that seemed to be in constant supply in the North.
Once golden eyes, that always reminded you of the sun, turned blue. Fire turning to ice.
The only thing rivalling the horror you felt at seeing Viserion in such a state was seeing the thing that was riding him. The Night King’s cold eyes were watching your every movement as Rhaegal dipped lower and lower in the sky. Your attention diverted from his icy gaze towards Rhaegal as his wings narrowly escaped the tree tops. His body jolts as he tries to avoid the imminent collision.
With your mouth pressed into a line, you force yourself to relax and remember everything you had learned over the years with Rhaegal. Every minute movement of his body and what that told you. Even if the Night King could control Viserion, he would never be able to fly like you could. You just had to get to Daenerys, to Drogon, and everything would be fine.
Chancing one last glance towards him, you couldn’t help the sardonic smirk that pulled at your lips. “If you want me you’ll have to catch me you sick bastard.”
-----
In retrospect, taunting the Night King wasn’t the smartest plan. While you had the advantage of experience atop dragons. He held the advantage when it came being able to see where you were going. Which, in the grand scheme of things, was a very useful tool to have.
As it wouldn’t be the first, or second, time you had almost slammed into something as you made your back towards Winterfell.
“How did we get so far out?” You hiss as you, yet again, dip Rhaegal into a dive to avoid Viserion’s talons. His disjointed shriek causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. You didn’t remember flying this far out from Winterfell but as each moment ticked by you could tell that you had somehow gotten turned around. We were only supposed to be a few minutes out at most. How did this happen?
Feeling the sudden breeze of air on your head, causes you to duck. Your head almost collided with Rhaegal’s neck as Viserion made another dive towards you. Feeling the slick feeling of liquid running down your neck, you raise your hand to the base of it. Letting loose a soft hiss as a sharp stab of pain is the response your body gives to the prodding. You know you didn’t have to look at your fingers to see that your glove was stained red.
Catching sight of the beacon fires almost causes you to sob in relief. Your eyes welling up at the brilliant sight of light after spending so long in near darkness. The sounds of battle resounding out towards you like a choir.
“Only a bit longer, Rhaegal,” you murmur against his neck. Feeling the way his breaths had gotten deeper. You don’t know how much longer he would be able to last if the pace continued like this. The constant bobbing and weaving through frozen air. Squeezing your eyes shut, you send a silent prayer to R’hllor to get you through this-- to get Rhaegal through this. “You’re doing so well. Just a bit longer and I promise you’ll be able to rest.”
Only a small snort was your response. The reaction caused a small smile to quirk your lips despite the situation you were in. His tenacious spirit hadn’t dimmed in the slightest even as his energy was so clearly waned. That’s my boy.
Angling Rhaegal into a steep dive, you make your descent towards Winterfell. Your eyes desperately searching for Daenerys. Your breath catching when you finally caught sight of Drogon’s familiar form. His looming black shadow shifting over the battlefield as he and Daenerys dealt with the Wights. The Unsullied fight valiantly underneath their Khaleesi. You think you could even see Jorah shifting about with Jon Snow’s direwolf-- Ghost.
Viserion’s sharp cry causes you to wince. Your head is already bowing as you twist Rhaegal into the opposite direction. Hoping that you would be able to be fast enough but you hadn’t reacted fast enough. Not as you felt Viserion slam into Rhaegal and press you down against his back. Your breath escaping you in a harsh exhale as Rhaegal tried desperately to free himself. His angry shrieks like daggers through your heart.
Knowing that there was little else you could do; not when you and Rhaegal were so tired. You call for Daenerys-- hoping that your dragon would be able to get to you. Your eyes search for her violet as you begin your descent towards the snow covered ground.
“Daenerys.”
------
“Daenerys.”
The sound of her name ripped through the air. Louder than any scream from the undead below her. Louder than any cry of the dying that would forever echo in her head. Louder than even Drogon was at his angriest.
Her head snapping up in the direction the scream, no plea, had originated from. Her own beginning to form when she saw her mate and son in a spiral. She had known that Viserion was a slave of the Night King’s now but she had never truly prepared herself to see him.
She had never thought it would be when he was clutching onto Rhaegal’s back. His talons like anchors against Rhaegal’s green hide. Rivulets of red already became obvious as her son struggled to break free. Struggled to protect his mother, his rider, from harm. She could even see your face from here. See the pain that was so clearly etched across your beautiful features. The blood that was becoming apparent through the stark white of your cloak.
It was a sight that forced her into action. Nudging, Drogon in your direction as fast as he was able to go. Her heart hammering in her chest as Rhaegal let loose another cry of pain. As Viserion echoed it back with one of his own demented shrieks. Her two boys, that were closer than even she could comprehend, enemies because of the vileness that Westeros held. It brought tears to her eyes as Drogon finally got a hold of Viserion. His much larger form easily being able to overpower his brother. Claws ripping and tearing through brittle hide as he was tossed to the side. Little decorum being shown for what used to be his brother.
Glancing down, Daenerys’s heart almost stops at the sight of Rhaegal’s still plummeting form. His wings weakly trying to keep him afloat but nothing would be able to stop his descent. She could see the wounds in his wings and the way his head was drooping which each second ticked by. Angling Drogon into a dive, Daenerys does everything she can to stop his descent. To stop him from hitting the ground but it was all in vain.
Her widened gaze watching as Rhaegal was weakly able to run across the surface before crashing down completely. The form of his rider being thrown from his body into a heap on the icy landscape.
Not thinking of much else, Daenerys jumps off of Drogon the moment his feet make contact with land. Her hand ran against Rhaegal’s neck in a quick search to make sure he was all right; relieved when she felt his heavy breathing through her glove. His steady warmth is still there despite everything.
With that task accomplished, she makes her way over towards the form of her mate. Her knees hitting the ground with preamble and she brought you into her arms. A worried gaze taking in every bruise and scrape that made up the expanse of your skin. Blood trickling down slowly from open wounds that didn’t look to be too deep. A relieved sob leaving her lips when she notices your breathing; while shallow it was something.
Closing her eyes, Daenerys sends a silent thank you to whatever deity helped keep her mate and son safe. Her mouth pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as she pulled you tighter into her embrace. Very much aware of Drogon’s presence wrapping around her. His protective stance warmed her heart.
“Try and stay calm, okay?” She murmurs softly to herself as she pulls you tighter against her. Wanting to keep you as warm as she possibly could. “Help is coming.”
Glancing up, Daenerys could no longer see the various shadows of war against the landscape. Her heart thudding against her chest at what that could mean. Though none of it mattered if it meant that she lost you.
Looking down, she presses another small kiss to your forehead and smiles despite the tears in her eyes. “I love you. If you hold on a bit longer I promise I will never leave your side again.” She nuzzles into your neck; needing to be surrounded by your scent. “You’ll be stuck with me. Just wait for help to come.”
Unbeknownst to Daenerys the slightest of smiles curled your lips at her words. You could never imagine not waiting for your dragon.
#daenerys targaryen x reader#daenerys x reader#daenerys targaryen#daenerys#queen daenerys#got imagines#game of thrones imagines#game of thrones#daenerys imagines#daenerys targaryen imagine#just wait
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Misery
Sadistic!Yandere!Diluc x Fatui Harbinger!GN!reader
Wordcount: 6748
CW: torture, sex, foul language, isolation, sensory deprivation, extremely unhealthy relationships, dubcon, mindbreak, violence
Diluc isn’t a cruel person. Not necessarily. He punishes you only when you are difficult and for the last few weeks you tried to stay on your best behavior. Ragnvindr is nice to you, benevolent even, willing to look past your former affiliations and shower you with love. At times his affections seem suffocating and irking, blood red eyes following your every movement and him absorbing your every word as if it is a holy scripture, but you remind yourself that his love is the best thing that happened to you in your whole life.
Truly, Diluc is so kind to take you in and help you fix the errors of your old ways, even when you were snarling and spitting insults in his face, too stubborn to see how wrong your old life was. You were ignorant and ungrateful back then, seeing nothing but a Harbinger title and service to Tsaritsa. You forced Diluc to lock you up to make you realize that you didn't need your title or your vision or your archon. He is there for you and it's all that matters, you can rely on him for everything and he is happy to provide, persistent in his care for you and even now he is patient with your… deficiencies, waiting when you stop staring into the distance with vacant eyes.
You stand in front of an open but barred window, a typically Mondstadtian landscape revealed to you - bright green grass and patches of dandelions and windwheel asters growing in small groups with tall trees of the same shade finishing the picture. A gentle breeze flows through the opening, playing with your hair and caressing your skin, yet you imagine another type of wind - stronger and colder, relentless and carrying small snowflakes on the way. You close the eyes and see another image - tall, leafless trees covered by multiple layers of snow and the white ground between them. Snow shines and glitters under the pale winter sun, and you feel alive and bitter at the same time.
You know the place, having been there once, but your memory now is too blurry and fuzzy. All of the events prior to Diluc fixing you up are too foggy to make out the finer details and it somehow makes you feel sad, when you should be grateful instead. Tears well up in your eyes, and you can’t make them stop, rapidly going from silent crying to full on hysterics.
You hear Diluc asking what’s wrong with a concern in his voice, his hands slightly shaking your crying form. You can’t answer him, wailing even louder and stronger, hiding your face in both hands, ashamed from the sudden outburst and overwhelmed from unreasoned sorrow and heartache. Only when Ragnvindr painfully squeezes both of your shoulders and demands to know what is wrong with you in that tone that makes you shiver and gasp, do you stop, looking at him with wide scared eyes, hands that were used to cover your face, are now up in the air in a semi defensive stance.
He seems uncomfortable by your reaction, a slight frown appearing on his face, scarlet brows knit together and corners of mouth turned downward. “I am sorry”, you say, voice small and pleading, eyes casted aside not meeting his out of embarrassment. Why did you start to act so childish out of the blue?
“There’s nothing to apologize”, Diluc takes off the glove, using an uncovered hand to wipe away the tear tracks from your cheeks. There’s no irritation in his voice, just concern, so you risk a glance at him, as he continues: “You are just making me worry”
“I am sorry” you repeat, feeling a prick to your heart, as you process his words - Ragnvindr is so good to you, providing with everything you could ever ask of, and here you are, making him concerned and anxious over some silly daydreams. “It’s really nothing, I just need to be more attentive, that’s it”
You noticed that it’s harder for you to stay in the moment as you start to frequently space out, mind too occupied by the memories of days long past - playing with peers, entering Fatui, receiving a delusion. It’s a futile thing, but images still consume all of your attention and focus, keeping you from sleeping and eating.
“[First], I...” he starts, but then trails off, huffing to mask his hesitancy. Instead of talking he takes your face in one hand and leans in, his lips meeting yours. It's a slow and gentle kiss at first, but just like all other things with Diluc it quickly escalates into something more: his hands now take you by your waist and tug you closer to him, making you press with your entire chest against him, and he deepens the kiss, his tongue freely exploring the confines of your mouth as you moan into his from pleasure and such close proximity.
When you two part, Diluc leaves you flushed and dizzy, with heart quickly pounding against the ribcage. You feel a fire of arousal igniting inside of you, it travels from your chest to belly and soon spreads to the rest of the body. Your cheeks heat up as you stand up on tiptoes to whisper “Can we do it right now?” in Diluc’s ear, voice full of both shame and anticipation.
“Of course, my dear”, there are hints of a smile in his tone and he effortlessly lifts you up and heads for the bedroom and as he carries you you can’t help but zone out again, the memories of past days flashing in your mind.
***
Your first meeting happens during one winter night, as you receive the order to deal with him day prior, at a Harbinger meeting in the Zapolyarny palace. Eleven of you stay kneeling in the main hall, awaiting for Her Majesty to come in as Scaramouche and Tartaglia start to bicker as usual.
“I bet it’s about that mysterious person who’s destroying one stronghold after the other” Childe starts, voice full of bravado and smugness, fake smile blooming on his face: “Fortunately, Tsaritsa has me to take on whatever this stranger is”.
“I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Tartaglia”, Scaramouche remarks, almost spitting out the last word.
“Why shouldn’t I? I am the youngest here, yet I am also the strongest. Why are you so upset? Feeling envious of my power?” Childe retorts, voice still sounding too cheery to be natural.
“If there was anything to envy. You may be the best at fighting among us, but it’s the only thing you are good at”.
“Huh, it seems I was wrong. Maybe little Scaramouche wants to be as tall as me and that’s why he spits out his funny silly slander”.
It must have struck the nerve, as Scaramouche snaps back with an angry tirade, from which their exchange escalates into a heated battle of barely hidden insults. You, just as the rest of other Harbingers listen to their conversation, half amused and half irritated, lifting the brows at the creative mockings.
“Silence”, domineering and overpowering voice says and you still yourself, eyes casted downwards, as Childe and Scaramouche stop their exchange at the same moment. Footsteps echo throughout the hall, as a feminine figure takes its place on a high throne in the middle of the hall. Tsaritsa has arrived.
“As I can see my children already know about the perpetrator attacking my servants” archon starts, divine power and absolute authority evident in each syllable. You feel how the deity’s eyes look at all of you, despite still keeping head bowed and stance obedient.
“Innamorati”, you hear your title and lift up your gaze, ready to take whatever order the Goddess has for you.
“I entrust you with this task, don’t disappoint me”.
***
Diluc is not a coward and he never was one, but now he can’t help but feel a pang of fear, looking at your approaching form.
“Let’s test our delusions, shall we?”, you almost purr, voice soft, silken smooth and full of unspoken threat. It sends shivers down his spine, yet he still equips this cursed thing and braces himself for the upcoming battle.
There’s a stillness in your moves, a confidence that whatever Diluc has in his arsenal, you can endure and answer with something deadly in return. This dangerous calm both disturbs and excites young Ragnvindr.
He lashes out on you with a stream of accursed chains, filling the air with the sickly sweet scent of mist grass. You easily side step his attack, letting out a cheerless laugh and then come back with a cold gust, frost air currents easily cutting through his skin.
He barely dodges the attack, slowly registering the pain from injury. It’s a shallow cut and a testament to your strength, Diluc thinks, as he touches the scrape, marvelling at your speed. In the end, Diluc can’t stand against you - you’re stronger, have more experience and infinitely faster than him, bringing down one overwhelming attack after the other, a catalyst shining and glowing as you do so.
He jumps and ducks and runs, avoiding one hit after the other, yet there's only so much his body can do. Soon his limbs grow heavier and his breathing labored, Diluc slows down and that's when your attack finally strikes him. It pierces his body, pools of blood quickly forming under him.
Diluc falls down, his battered body no longer able to stand. Memories and regrets alike flood his mind, reminding him of deeds he wishes he did and deeds he wishes he didn’t. He remembers his childhood - all daydreams and high hopes, the world around him bright and friendly. He remembers his father's dying face and Kaeya’s guilt-ridden expression. He remembers overwhelming helplessness and grief transforming into righteous anger and hate.
It all seems so pointless now - leaving the Mondstadt, breaking all bonds with Kaeya or spending years in a mindless massacre, satiating his thirst for revenge by destroying one Fatui stronghold after the other, with no regard for his body or spirit. What was the point of it all, if he's still there, lying and bleeding to death, as you look down on him?
He throws, what he thinks, the last glance at the world, a strange thought appearing in his mind as he looks at you: I want them. As Diluc's consciousness fades he misses a sound of an observer's footsteps.
Later, as he gets saved by the said third party’s observer, who commented and praised Diluc’s methods, he replays the encounter in his mind, getting confused at this particular thought. Why would he want you? Maybe he wants you to die or maybe he wants to see you defeated, but in no way he sees you as desirable. In the end he blames everything on his oxygen deprived brain at the time, explaining the strange attraction he felt for you at that moment.
Having a near death experience and a taste of his own dying regrets, he decides to return to Mondstadt and as he does, thoughts about you continue to pester him. They fly around and buzz, reminding Diluc of your face, eyes and voice, of your body and skills and that terrifying speed you attacked him at. He swats them away like a noisy, annoying flies, suppressing and burying feelings deep, deep down, and naming his interest in you “a desire for revenge and retribution”.
***
Your second meeting happens once the news of a sudden Stormterror attack reaches Tsaritsa’s ears - a perfect opportunity for acquiring anemo archon’s gnosis and a new step in her rebellion against Celestia. She thinks about sending La Signora at first, as your fellow Harbinger is fast and ruthless, able to complete a job no matter the cost, but soon archon changes her mind and picks you instead. For secrecy and subterfuge, she adds, don’t disappoint me.
I won't, you promise more to yourself than her, as Tsaritsa never asks but orders. With your head bowed in deep respect and the heavy gaze of the goddess on your form, you decide that you will do your best to bring cryo archon's vision into reality. You are dispatched to Mondstadt the same week, first by ship, then by carriage. Pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya quickly morph into bright Mondstadtian green, and you finally arrive.
Despite or maybe because of Mondstadt having almost nothing similar with Snezhnaya, it steals a breath from you for a moment - city stands on a lone isle in the middle of deep blue lake, tall windmills and bright red roofs seen from a distance, along with a giant statue of Barbatos blessing the city.
Acting Grandmaster Jean greets you, her stern blue eyes intently observing you, as she says standard Favonius salute and you return your own cliche lines - about Tsaritsa’s concern and a peacekeeping mission, empty phrases that don’t elaborate on what actually Fatui will do. She fails to suppress a frown upon hearing it, sensing your real intentions, but you pay it no mind - Jean has no way or reason strong enough to ban you from Mondstadt without causing a diplomatic conflict.
You turn on the heels after brief negotiations, heading for the Goth Grand Hotel, mind already full of plans and schemes of obtaining the Gnosis. Before you departed, Tsaritsa shared a very interesting fact to you - throughout the centuries Barbatos used only one mortal form, disguising himself as a young cheerful bard named Venti. You dispatch a couple of agents and cicin mage to look for a person fitting the description, and then turn your attention to the rest of the fatuis.
You scold Anastasia for unprofessional rudeness towards Jean. “We need to maintain a benevolent image”, you say to her, right before demoting her and temporarily sending her off to Dragonspine as a punishment. Under your rule fatuis cease sneering and belittling Mondstadt in public, lessening no doubt growing ire of locals.
All goes well, until several events happen. Stormterror attacks the city and some blonde foreigner fights off the dragon, wielding mind blowingly strong anemo powers and riding the wind, like a flying bird. Then your agents finally find a bard, reporting that “Venti" prefers to spend a considerable amount of both time and mora in two local taverns - Angel’s Share and Cat’s tail.
You don civilian clothing, heading for the former tavern and send off a couple of other disguised agents to the latter one. Now, stripped of your mask and harbinger attire, citizens stop gawking and staring at you, their eyes passing your form, as you make your way as an ordinary passerby.
No one pays you attention, as you enter the tavern, save for the strange six fingered bard at the entrance. He tries to sell you his performance, but you wave him off, heading for the bar. And here you see him again - you recognize the unknown attacker, his bright red hair and eyes betraying him the same second. Your faces mirror in recognition as a tense silence settles between you.
“So what is Fatui doing in this tavern?”he asks loudly and half of the customers stop drinking and stare at you. You sigh “enjoying” the atmosphere he created, and utter a premade excuse: “Mondstadt is known for its wine industry and the best wines are sold by Dawn Winery. It would be a shame if I left the city without tasting its finest drinks first”.
You glance at the red gem on his collar, an obvious heirloom of a famous clan: “Didn’t know that Ragnvindr heir would spend his days working as a bartender. You must be Diluc, then. Am I right?". He doesn't dignify you with an answer, preferring to wipe the glasses and serve other customers, his eyes still observing you from time to time.
You quit the tavern early, as “Venti”, as it turns out, leaves the same second he hears about your presence. You order agents to spy on him, waiting for the right opportunity to strike, that you don't get a chance to act on.
You get attacked by Diluc on your way to the Windrise tree, where according to your intel, Barbatos decided to go. He slowly pulls out his claymore and you notice a difference between old and current him.
He is calm this time, his movements lacking fervent hatred and anger that was present during your first battle. He must have gotten stronger then, if he feels so confident, entering a battle with you. Or grown foolish, your mind supplies.
You start to fight, exchanging one blow for another, as he surprises you - there's no barbed chains rushing into your direction, only an orange light fire surrounding the claymore. A pyro vision dangles on his waist, glowing and shining as he activates it's powers. You masterfully dodge his hits, shooting combined anemo and cryo attacks from the catalyst.
Suddenly you step on a burning grass, and hiss and close your eyes from the sudden pain. Diluc uses this time to disarm you, his heavy claymore crushing a delicate catalyst into small pieces. It happens so fast, that you are left speechless at the sudden turn of the battle tides.
With no weapon left, all you can do is dodge and run - you almost reach the city again. it’s walls become visible as you do your best to push your body beyond limits, fatigue weighing down on every muscle. Diluc sends a phoenix - a damn phoenix! - on your way. Fire licks your skin and scorches ends of your hair, but you manage to dodge it too - if only by a small chance - and fall to the ground, mind drifting off to the unconscious world.
***
You come up to your senses slowly and gradually; first there are sensations - a rough rope around your wrists, wet, yet rugged stone walls, then the smells, tastes and sounds - stale, musty air, a coppery blood on your tongue and a shift of a fabric, and then the images at last - dark basement and a bright red blotch, that after a time becomes a head.
There’s a man sitting beside you, Diluc Ragnvindr, your memory supplies. You feel calm and confused for a moment until you remember the fight you both had. Seems, he finally overpowered you.
“You are awake” he says, voice grim and quiet.
“It seems I am. Let me guess, you dragged me here because you want to know what this big bad harbinger plans to do?”. Control your breathing, don’t let him hear the tremble of your voice, don’t let him see the fear in your eyes.
He looks at you with an unreadable gaze and you hold his stare, looking absolutely untroubled in return, a knowing and somewhat self-confident smirk playing in your lips. No matter his status in Mondstadt, Diluc kidnapped you, one of the fatui Harbingers and a close associate of Tsaritsa. His action, no doubt, will force Fatui to severe action, an action that neither his nation nor his people will be able to withstand.
“Think bigger”, he finally says: “I don’t care what you planned to do. I already have you here, weak and helpless. No, what I want is intel on what your goddess and organization are after”.
“Oh, mister Diluc, you want to play a big game? It’s dangerous in case you didn’t know. Maybe after I tell you all of our wicked plans, you will wish you had never asked” you purr, sensing how it grates his nerves, despite him keeping his face and stance impassive.
“How so?”
“Tsaritsa is the greatest of all seven, her vision is absolute. Even if you learn of her plans I doubt you will be able to stop any of them”.
“I asked what the plans were, not what you think of cryo archon”. Diluc’s voice becomes a tone louder, the already present frown on his face subtly deepening.
“Then I am afraid you won’t get any from me”.
He suddenly gets closer to you, his hand yanking you by your head. You hiss, trying to free the bound hands, as he drags you to a nearby barrel with water by hair and then he dips you in it. You instinctively jerk in his hold, a cold water seeping in your nose and mouth as he holds you underwater. Ten second passes, twenty, thirty, you jerk again, your head throbbing and aching from the lack of air, he pulls you upwards.
You nearly black out from the abrupt change, gulping down in the air and coughing out water. He repeats his question and you deny him again. He dips you more, each time becoming a bit longer than the last, only to repeat his query. You lose how many times he lowered you into liquid, absolutely wet and shivering now, when he finally stops and ties you up to the same place you woke up to.
“We will continue tomorrow, I have business to attend to. I suggest you use this time to rethink whether you want to tell me Tsaritsa’s plans or not, as I can get much worse” He heads for the exit from the basement, as you greedily inhale the air.
“Wait”, you say, still breathing heavily: “Aren’t you afraid of the punishment? You kidnapped me, a harbinger, and then proceeded to torture me. Tsaritsa will have your head for this slight against her.”
“Tsaritsa won’t find out. Your Harbingers won’t find out. No one will find out if there’s no evidence”. He steps closer to you, his voice becoming firmer with each word.
“And how do you think you will manage to hide the evidence? You left the knights years ago, you are nothing but a businessman at this point. I doubt they will cover up for you”.
“How did..”
“Oh, Diluc, people talk and I am very, very nosy. That girl, Donna, she told so much to my subordinates about you ”, you mock her, imitating her high breathy manner: “Oh Diluc, he was the youngest captain, but then he left. I wonder why he left? Maybe the knights wronged him!”
“Honestly, with the amount of ire you subject poor knights to, only a deaf and a blind won’t know about how much you despise Favonius Order'', you continue, anger and hatred seeping into your voice.
“I still have connections”, he says absolutely nonchalantly.
“Oh, do you bribe them, then? You criticize the knights for being corrupt, yet you are willing to ask them to hide my abduction? It’s a bit hypocritical, isn’t it?”
Diluc doesn’t answer this time, finally stepping out of the room and locking the door. You sit alone in a dimly lit room, water still all over you and heart quickly beating in your chest, trying to calm down. Later, when your heartbeat stops booming in your own ears, you pray to Tsaritsa, asking Goddess to grant you strength and endurance.
***
You manage to doze off once your clothes are almost dry. The dreams you see are vague and murky, dripping with a sense of unease and anxiety, you see dark silhouettes that morph into looming shadows that later transform into phantasmagorical monsters. It must be why you wake up the same second door opens with Diluc entering the room.
He looks grimmer now, more determined. You brace yourself for his hands tugging at your hair again and lungs burning from lack of oxygen, but none of it comes. He uses a dagger to slice your clothes off, careful not to damage skin underneath. Out of pure nerves you quip some stupid joke about dining first, but he pays you no mind, his hands soon touching your bare legs and looks at them with a filthy stare, his red eyes consuming revealed flesh.
You still under his stare, heart pounding as you try to distract yourself from the thoughts of what he might do to you right now. Almost a minute passes, when he finally stops staring at your legs and begins to move his arms, caressing your inner side of the thigh instead.
You shift from the discomfort, alarmed when his palms start to heat up. He wants to burn me, you think and barely stop yourself from screaming by biting your lip. A disgusting smell of burnt flesh fills up your nose as tears start to travel down your face. He removes the hand, revealing two angry red imprints with a collection of small blisters already forming. Diluc, again, asks the same question, and just like the last time you refuse to answer.
He does upkeep his threat of becoming much worse, with his hands burning your naked body - he targets sensitive spots or joints,so everytime you shift or move they throb and burn, disturbed at the smallest of motions.
“You're not the one to think about the consequences, are you?”, you ask when he finishes, voice quiet and raspy from screaming.
"No one will find you".
"I am one of the Tsaritsa's most trusted servants, of course they will find me", you pretend you don't hear desperation in your own voice.
"Time will show", Diluc says philosophically, looking as gentlemanly as possible despite him torturing you seconds ago.
"Yes, it will", you agree with him, picturing the bastard's face once he gets thrown in prison.
He leaves the room and you allow yourself to slump, careful not to move burned areas too much, and then he returns again, this time with food and medicine. He works fast at bandaging and disinfecting the burns, seems he is as intent at patching you up, as he is at tearing you apart. As he swathes another burn, you look at the brought food.
It’s unlikely he would drug it to make you tell the truth, given that he already tortures you and he doesn’t seem to be a type to play mind games. It still could be laced with poison though, not lethal one, that would be counterproductive, but the one that can cause pain and tremors all over your body. You’ve seen such substance at work once, when Il Dottore decided to show you the fruits of his experiments - victims were thrashing and shaking on the floor once a five minute mark had been passed, by the twentieth they already admitted to all crimes, regardless of how innocent they were.
It might be even a new torture method, devised by Diluc, just to strip you from the short respite when you are not in pain. He finally looks up to you, finishing the bandage, noticing the stare you look at the food with. "It's not poisoned" he guesses your thoughts, taking a small bite and a sip to prove his words. A minute passes, then the second and the third ones, nothing happens with him, no blushing or paling skin, no wide blown or pinprick pupils, nothing. It still could be a slow acting poison, but you doubt it - they're usually harder to cure, Diluc wouldn't willingly consume it given the long list of aftereffects that remain even after antidote was administered.
Thankfully, he doesn’t stay to feed you, leaving you with food alone. It’s a potato hash browns, absolutely unseasoned and cold. You almost swallow them whole from hunger, realizing how starved you are once the smell of food reaches you. After a day(?) of fasting, satiation hits you full force, drowsiness pulling at every muscle. The tableware he brought is metallic and easily bends, so you can't smash it and use sharp pieces, nor are there any utensils to weaponize. You lay down on the side, as something falls on you. It's a stone.
Your hands take it, feeling its shape - mostly smooth with one angular protrusion. It's not sharp or pointed enough for you to cut through the bindings, but with enough time and effort it can break the rope with friction alone. You begin to work, grating the rope again and again, fighting off the sleepiness.
***
Diluc nods to Adelinde, as he returns from Mondstadt after signing the contract with winesellers from Inazuma. She understands this wordless gesture, starting to talk: “The.. guest you brought has eaten, last time I checked they still were awake. I did my best to be quiet, master Diluc”.
He dismisses her, thanking for her observations and decides to go down himself. A strange sort of fascination fills him, as he turns the key in the lock, that also prompts a burning shame that he grew accustomed to in the last few days.
It’s an awful thing, to find pleasure in another’s suffering - a trait of a heartless monster, as his father once said, but despite the chagrin he still can’t help but feel a quickening of the pulse as a pained whimper escapes your lips. It’s addicting honestly, to have you of all people, naked and trembling and helpless at his total control, when you were so close to ending his life just a couple of months ago. He supposes it's a type of karmic punishment to you, a fatui harbinger, no doubt a killer and horrible person - you deserve it, he tells to himself - you deserve it for being a fatui.
Moreover, you are not only a terrible, terrible person that deserves much more gruesome torture that he allows, you are also a source of priceless information - how many lives will be saved and avenged if you just tell him what fatuis plan to do. You are a harbinger, you are bound to know something, unlike most of the fatui.
Diluc carefully glances at you as he enters - you are still sitting in the same spot he left you in, head slumped low and shoulders relaxed. It seems you are asleep. He still makes his way to you, steps slow and quiet. Your hands are bound with rope and Diluc knows how much the rough fiber pulls and chafes at skin, grating it to the blood and ropeburns - he needs to use this short respite to quickly disinfect and bandage you again.
Diluc crouches down, as you twitch and then something aims for his head, he flinches a second too slow to dodge. You nearly manage to hit him right in the temple. His head almost splits in half from the burst of pain, vision blurry and disoriented.
You quickly stand, enduring the pain from the burns and make your way to the room. Diluc runs after you, panic and anger distorting his face in equal manner - he can’t let anyone see you like that! - but you manage to lock him in using his own keys. He kicks and thrashes the door, angry at himself for not carrying claymore with him, as something loudly collides with the wall at the other side. He hears a short surprised yelp and whimper - your whimper and the too familiar footsteps descending down the stairs- Adelinde.
“Master Diluc? Is everything okay?”, the headmaid unlocks the room, concern in her voice:”I saw.. the guest running out of the basement, so I pushed them back before other maids could see”
“Everything is fine, check on the Harbinger, I still need intel”.
Turns out, you blacked out upon the impact, a small trail of blood making its way down the head. Diluc is still angry at you, head throbbing and hurting, his hands itching to hit and burn you, but he can’t allow himself to lose control: you are hurt and he doesn’t want to kill you.
In the end, it’s all predictable, Diluc muses, you are an animal first and human second, your allegiance testament to that. He was too soft, too forgiving on you and you decided to twist his kindness like a blade in the back. His head still hurts, but he finally calms, reasoning your attack as an outlash of a mindless beast.
He carries your limp body in hands, finally taking out of the basement and takes you to one of the guest rooms at the second floor of the winery - it’s a risky move, but you injured your head and in Diluc’s experiences such traumas almost always carry a great risk - maybe you will even forget who you are and there’ll be no one for Diluc to interrogate to.
Placing your body on the bed he clasps a cuff around each of your limbs and gags and blindfolds you. After a second, he asks Adelinde for cotton and stuffs your ears full of it.
Human mind stripped of all stimuli is such a dangerous thing, tearing itself apart.
***
You wake up to darkness and silence, head slightly pulsing from pain. You lie on some sort of very soft bed, silk smooth sheets consuming and hugging most of your body as you wiggle your limbs, tugging at the cuffs.
A small wave of panic washes over you, as you remain absolutely blind and deaf to the world, but you try to remain calm, unsure if Diluc is standing near or not. The bindings on your hands are made of iron now, so you soon stop, knowing it's a futile thing. The only thing you can do is wait.
You don't know how much time passes between you regaining consciousness and the air shifting around you. Having been stripped of both sight and hearing, your other senses became a bit sharper, mind focusing on them to compensate. It's a subtle change of pressure but you still feel it, it's enough for you to guess where this person stands. Suddenly hands grope at you, touching and probing the place near burns. You would scream if it wasn’t for the gag, from pain and violation alone. It's a smaller palms, judging by sensations, they change the bandages. After whoever that was finishes patching you they leave you alone, their departure evoking both relief and sadness - they were a source of stimulations, stimulations that your mind desperately needs.
You start to tug at the bindings again - this time to procure pain, just to feel something again. You are bored, you are in pain and you are scared - not the best combination. Soon, you decide to distract yourself from ever increasing boredom with memories. Images of your past life flash and change before you - here’s you playing catch and hide and seek, here’s you receiving a vision, here’s you entering fatui and climbing through the ranks, here's you receiving delusion from Tsaritsa’s own hands and here's you battling Diluc for the first time.
I should have killed him, you think, I should have spent less time talking and more time fighting, the bastard wouldn't live to see another day and I wouldn't be here.
A strange feeling of panic settles in your bones, as you try to occupy yourself, it's subtle but never ending, slowly growing with each second. You try to daydream but you can��t, not when you are cuffed and your body burns. You try to reminisce again, but you can do only so much, memories becoming dull and repetitive. Soon, the subtle panic becomes not so subtle and you realize you are gasping and thrashing, limbs achings as you rub them against the rough shackles.
You must have blacked out or drifted to sleep, because the next time you wake up you feel a bit different - a little cleaner and more sated - they tend to me, when I am unconscious you realize. Diluc wants to limit all interactions I have.
You don't know how much time you spend there in the end, but it has a profound effect on you - at first the concept of sharing fatui plans with your captor seems nonsensical and traitorous, but after a couple of days-weeks(?) of being chained to one place with limited movement and perception, it stops looking like such a bad idea to you.
Time distorts around you, you can't tell how long you were lying there, seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours and hours into near eternities. At one point you started to cry again, scared and panicked and then you proceeded to scream.
***
Diluc comes to you again, taking out the cotton and blindfold from your person. Your eyes hurt and your head starts to ache again from the rush of noises, and you blink a couple of times to see the man before you. A strange mix of emotions washes over you - you hate Diluc, you truly despise him with every fibre of your being, yet now Diluc is the only person you have, the only person you see. It’s so confusing and overwhelming that you start to cry, unable to process any of the feelings.
Diluc looks as prim and proper as ever, as he shushes your crying and promises to let you go if only you will tell Tsaritsa’s plans. You almost believe him, Fatui secrets dancing at the tip of his mouth, yet you hold on to the pieces of your loyalty, slowly shaking your head. He asks you again, doubt and concern in his voice. It will be better if you tell me, he says, his hand still stroking you, don’t you want to walk and see again?.
His hand stops stroking you, face turning back to stone when you refuse him for the second time. He fixes blindfold and cotton again and part of you is howling - it’s scary, so scary to be left alone with nothing but your thoughts.
This time you start to break far faster, having tasted freedom for a mere second. You break down and tell Diluc everything you know next time he visits. His hand on you feels like salvation and punishment at the same time. At the end of your confession you are too empty, all of your secrets laid before him, no place for sadness or grief left inside of you. You feel whatever was inside of you was scorched off by Diluc and it left you thoroughly burnt. Dead. Made of ash.
“My name is [First]”, you wail and howl, shoulders slightly shaking as you do. You want so much to have some human contact, to hear someone call your name for once.
It’s cathartic in a way, to tell all the secrets your mind has been bustling with ever since becoming a harbinger. He doesn’t flinch or frown when you tell what exactly you witnessed or did, intently listening to each word.
He keeps his promise and uncuffs you from the bed, but you are still not allowed to leave the room, which doesn’t really disappoint you. There are books and a small barred window that opens a view to the wineyard, a feast for the starving mind. You spend at least an hour standing at the window at first, amazed that you can see people working.
He gifts you clothes and other books, assigns a housemaid to look after you, the same one that pushed you down the stairs when you were running away, she doesn’t speak to you, preferring to avoid your gaze.
Sometimes you do feel sad - you betrayed Tsaritsa, you betrayed your homeland, you lost both vision and delusion - but you quickly shove it down, unable to process feelings properly. You know you are defeated, having seen similar behavior from fatui prisoners, and Diluc knows it too, a malice and triumph and satisfaction burning on his eyes, despite the impassive face.
He sees you as a trophy, a reminder of how he reduced the great fatui harbinger to your current condition. He orders you around and punishes when you disobey, calls it reeducation, calls it teaching you how to be a decent person, calls it a punishment for your sins. A part of you wants to retort and point out his own failings, but you stop yourself at the root, unwilling to be stripped from the world again. You comply, you suppress, you break little by little. It all pleases him.
You learn to love what hurt you the most out of pure fear.
***
“First?”, it’s Diluc, shaking you slightly by the shoulders. You snap back to reality, seeing that he already carried you to bed and undressed you.
“I am here, you can continue” you whisper as he leans down to pepper your chest and collarbone with kisses, and then hiss as he bites you.
“Mhm, that’s good,” he says, warm hands traveling down to your thighs, caressing the inner side: “Could you spread them a bit?”
You obey, equally parts scared and excited.
Truly, Diluc is the best thing that happened in your life.
Note: All fatui harbinger names are taken from commedia dell'arte. Innamorati are a couple of lovers, madly in love with each other and with the idea of being in love. I thought it would be ironic.
#yandere diluc ragnvindr x reader#yandere diluc x reader#yandere genshin x reader#yandere genshin impact#Yandere genshin#Yandere diluc#yandere x reader#yandere#I am lowkey dissapointed in myself#Both reader and diluc are bad people#My sleep meds stopped working:(((#my writing
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Fantasy
(Deku x F! Reader)
warnings- stepest, mentions of alcohol, dubcon/noncon, penetrative sex
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It’s fun to pretend. You run down the sidewalk, bidding your friends goodbye and stumbling a little, alcohol still in your system. Your heart beats quickly as you run faster, it’s scary to be out at three in the morning alone. Make it a game, you’re playing tag and you will be less afraid. You round the corner and bounce up the steps to your house, parents gone on a business trip so you decided to stay here for the weekend instead of your college dorm.
You turn the key and the lock clicks open, shutting the door quickly behind you. Once you’re inside you sigh happily, you win. You know that no one was chasing you but sometimes it’s fun to pretend to be a kid again, run from monsters that don’t exist, blood coursing through your veins as your heart pumps faster than it ever should.
Imagining running from a dragon, your pretty dress flowing behind you as you tear down the hallways of your castle. Studying to become a writer had its perks, being alone for you was never boring when you always have a story in your head.
You toss your keys on the counter, flicking on the kitchen lights and turning on the stove. You should probably eat something before you go to bed, alcohol and an empty stomach don’t mix well. You sift through your parents fridge, humming a tune softly.
“Why were you out so late”
You jump at the voice, whipping your head around to face a large chest. Broad tan shoulders block your view. Slowly turning your head up, you meet the green eyes of your older brother.
“When did you become the bad kid, out past 3 and” he leans forward, taking a whiff of you “obviously drinking, what happened to college?” he smirks.
“Why aren’t you at your job? You shouldn’t be here” You retort, a little defensive and embarrassed you were caught. Izuku won this game of tag and you didn’t even know he was playing.
“I’ve been working, just wanted to take a break and visit my lovely little sister” He leans foreword and pinches your cheek. His touch lingers a little too long, brushing his large fingers down your cheek. He always did love teasing you. You move around the barricade that is his body, continuing your conquest for food.
He frowns at the space you put between you two, coming up behind you where you stand in front of the stove. He grips your waist, tickling you.
You burst out in a fit of giggles, bending over as he finds your weak spot. “Iz-zuku stop, I’m trying to cook”
He lets you go but doesn’t move far, breathing over your shoulder with every movement. He’s very protective of you, as any older brother would be. But sometimes it was strange. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor, but he didn’t seem to understand.
You fry two eggs, plating them and sitting down. Izuku sets a cup of water in front of you, taking his place across from you. Your dining room used to be a throne room to you, but with your adult brother it felt so much smaller.
You nod at the water, an inquisitive look on your face. He laughs at you, “You need to sober up”
You frown, not fond of the idea of letting go of the warm blissful feeling the alcohol had left. You drink it anyways, bringing the dishes back to the sink but not washing them, you could do them tomorrow. You trudge over to the couch, flicking on the the TV. Izuku follows your every step, right behind you at all times.
After staring at the brightly lit screen for what felt like hours, trying to ignore how close your brother was, you got up from the couch. He moved up to follow you and you snapped.
“Why do you keep following me, can I use the bathroom alone?”
He falters at your tone, taking a step back. “Oh yeah, my bad I just miss hanging out with you, like we used to?”
His implied words make you shudder, things you’ve tried to forget resurface in seconds. A princess shouldn’t be with her knight, especially if they ‘serve the same king’. Ever since his dad married your mom, things have been weird between you two.
Sneaking into rooms at night, exchanged kisses that weren’t quite right. It was wrong and you knew it, but you could never get enough of him. As you grew older and he went away for school you realized how bad it was and you tried to forget, vowed it wouldn’t happen again.
You walk up the stairs, a little bit too quick. He stays in his place on the couch but watches you go, your hips mesmerizing him. You change into pajamas, brush your teeth, do everything you would normally do. You hop into bed, turning off your lights and wishing sleep upon yourself. Maybe if you just pretend then it wouldn’t be real. His footsteps up the stairs, the knocking on your door, walking in without your response, his weight on the bed, his hand on your thigh. Maybe if you just pretend. This can’t be real.
He pulls your blankets off your unmoving form, he knows you’re not sleeping, he knows you too well. Everything about you, your friends, your school, your relationships, your mental health, and your body. He has it all logged in his head. If he didn’t know all of these things then how was he supposed to protect his baby sister?
Your breathing becomes labored as he pulls down your cotton shorts, lust or fear you’re not sure what makes your heart beat so fast. You’re not familiar with his adult body, he’s grown so much, too much. He could easily overpower you. He’s muscled up for his job and everything is just.. bigger. He’s no longer the sweet boy you knew, the one that comforted you through your mom’s new marriage. No, he’s someone else.
Your mind screams no but your body aches with his familiar touch. He might not look or act the same but he has always been gentle. You mewl when he lifts up your shirt, rough fingers rolling your nipples back and fourth. He plants soft wet kisses on your chest and stomach, never leaving marks. This was a secret, just for the two of you.
You can’t help the way your body jumps towards his hands when he pulls down your panties, thick digits swiping through your folds. You can deny it as much as you want, but you crave him. You whimpers become louder, all of his touches last so long when you can’t see anything in the dark. Right here in your childhood bedroom, you can’t see your brothers face but you know he’s smiling.
You hear fabric shifting and you know he’s discarded his pants as well. He climbs over you, towering, caging you in. Your hips grind up into his, desperate for friction.
“Slow down princess” he chuckles.
The nickname takes you away, let’s you believe that this is okay. It’s just a fantasy, it’s not real. You snap out of that mindset when Izuku pushes into you, bottoming out in one thrust. He groans as your wet walls envelop him, squeezing tightly. A muttered string of curses leave his lips when he starts moving, rocking into you slowly. He speeds up quickly, the warm feeling taking over his control.
He fucks into you hard and fast, the tip of his length kissing your cervix with every movement. He pounds you into the mattress as tears roll down your cheeks. He wipes them away, caressing your face and kissing you earnestly. He wanted you to be his but he knew it couldn’t be that way. If he couldn’t have all of you, then he would at least have this.
“You like it when your step brother fucks your tight little pussy like this? Yeah I know you do”
A broken moan escapes your lips, turning into a sob when his cock twitches at the sound.
His large thumb finds your clit, making quick circles to match his thrusts, bringing you over the edge quickly. He follows right after, pulling out and coming all over your breasts. Sticky fluids drip down chest, an uncomfortable feeling. He tucks himself away, kissing your forehead and exiting the room.
It’s fun to pretend, especially when it lets you believe that moments like these are just a fantasy.
#bnha izuku#izuku midoriya#izuku midoria x reader#deku midoriya#deku smut#bnha#mha#x reader#bnha smut#mha smut#mha x you#midoriya x y/n
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Fields of Wildflowers , Chapter 13
Fields of Wildflowers
Chapter 13
A Sihtric x OC story
Previous chapters. | My masterlist
AN: Firstly, apologies for not updating or posting any original content for a few weeks. I was on vacation and taking a small personal break. But rest assured that this story will be concluded and that I have other content and other OC’s I will write for when this story is done. So thank you for your patience and continued reading and support! My timeline for events during the siege in Winchester is different from the show. I almost combined this chapter with the events for the next one but they would have been too long. Also, this chapter still does not feature much of Sihtric, but he will be in the next chapter! I promise! And the beautiful moodboard is from @serasvictoria. Check out her blog - beautiful and original work.
Warnings: non-con, male on female violence, self-defense violence, assault, sexual assault, I think that is all.
Word Count: 3553
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Since learning of Eardwulf’s presence in Winchester and the disturbing images in her dreams, which had continued nightly, Cwen’s composure had begun to falter. Shadows in lonely corners continually leared in the edges of her vision. A loud noise or commotion was enough to startle a gasp from her lips. While returning to the kitchens one evening, a dark haired man with a slim frame similar to Eardwulf rounded a corner, reeking of ale and stumbled into Cwen and Eadith grumbling to himself. The encounter was enough to leave Cwen shaking like a leaf in a gale. For the rest of that evening, Eadith couldn’t coax a word out of her friend.
Eadith was truly worried about Cwen and tried not to leave her alone when possible. The two women continued working in the kitchen and waiting for chances to sneak words to their friends. Although there was no real news to relay to them.
The siege continued. Sigtrrygr still had the upper hand and for all intents and purposes appeared to ignore Edward’s attacks on the walls outside. Cwen and Eadith had managed to speak a few more words through the door to Lady Aelswith and were confident they were managing as well as they could. Although held as prisoners, they were fed and given water. They were not ill treated.
A bit shockingly, Stiorra was being treated with even more dignity and respect. Cwen had managed to volunteer to bring Stiorra food a second time from the kitchens. All had gone smoothly and it had done Cwen some good to venture on the errand without the comfort of Eadith’s presence.
Stiorra had embraced her and assured her of Sigtrrygr’s kindness and courtesy towards her. And it was true that the young woman Cwen saw looked refreshed and lively. Cwen thought that Stiorra seemed quite taken with the conquering Dane. He, apparently, spoke with her as an equal and conversed with her, challenged her. And Cwen felt glad for the young woman. Seeing the blossoming of a potential young romance did make her heart ache to feel herself once more in Sihtric’s arms. She wished to move beyond the hard words spoken between them when they left one another.
When she had returned from delivering Stiorra’s food, Cwen felt a bit more like herself. Eadith had noticed the change in her friend as well. That one errand on her own had brought back more of the determined and confident woman Eadith knew.
Cwen still was watchful. She still steadied herself and her breathing regularly. But she had stopped her quaking and stuttering movements or being startled at every noise or turn. Her nightmares had also lessened.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The chance to bring Stiorra her afternoon meal presented itself again several days later. Frig had yet again barked an order to any kitchen maid available to bring bread, cheese, and water to the woman, Stiorra. Careful to not seem too eager, Cwen had moved to gather the items and a basket in which to carry them all.
She paused just outside the door of the kitchen and gathered her breath. She could still see Eadith through the doorway and managed a small smile before taking a steadying breath and moving on her errand. Along the hallways, Cwen strode with confidence having become accustomed to walking the halls now occupied by Danes. She held her head down to avoid unwanted attention but walked with purpose to avoid unneeded questions. No one usually disturbed her or Eadith while they were about their business but all the same, Cwen thought it best to blend in and become unassuming.
As she turned the corner, Cwen heard muffled voices coming from the room where Stiorra was kept. Still several paces down the hall, she slowed her steps and strained her ears to better hear who was within. Thus far, her path had not crossed with Sigtryggr while he visited Stiorra. It might be best to completely avoid arousing suspicion that they knew one another.
But if Sigtryggr knew food should be on its way and she delayed it’s arrival would that not also be suspicious?
Cwen kept her head down and decided she would simply walk into the room and deliver the food. She could then see how events unfolded casually. Cwen was startled from her thoughts when the door to Stiorra’s room opened. And a voice she recognized spoke.
“I would always choose fear.”
Eardwulf backed out of the door and turned after closing it again, leaving whomever else was inside shut away.
The man appeared haggard and dejected. Fearful even.
As he turned, Eardwulf’s glare caught Cwen. She stood transfixed. A deer frozen after hearing the snap of a twig.
“What are you doing here?” Eardwulf sneered in a low voice as he stalked towards Cwen.
He reached a hand out to grasp at her sleeve, but it snapped life back into Cwen’s blood and she stepped to turn and run.
But he was himself too quick and easily grabbed her from behind and pushed her into an alcove of the hallway.
Eardwulf was quick to muffle Cwen’s cries with a hand over her mouth.
“If you are here then it means my whore of a sister must also be here. What is the plan then, eh? Have you two in here to spy and to snoop?”
Eardwulf prattled on about the injustices and failures he continually faced all the while never removing his hand from Cwen’s mouth.
She stared, terrified at the man and his condition. Dark shadows rested in the hollows underneath his bloodshot eyes. His eyes themselves appeared deranged.
Finally, Eardwulf paused while bringing his head to rest against Cwen’s brow. His hand still clamped across her mouth making it hard to breathe. The pressure of his fingers was bruising.
“I will show them,” he whispered, not speaking to Cwen any longer but to some unknown collective.
“They will watch in fear as I show them what will become of those who threaten me.”
He drew back from Cwen, catching her eyes.
His breathing was haggard. Matching her own.
Cwen cursed herself for having Sihtric’s knife hidden strapped to her calf. Out of her reach.
Not like the knife Eardwulf now drew from a sheath at his waist and held up to her, the tip grazing along the dip in her clavicle.
“Not a word, Cwen. You are coming with me.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cwen could not help but comply as Eardwulf led her, knife pressed against the small of her back, at the kidneys. The same place Sihtric had instructed her could incapacitate an attacker.
Her mind worked feverishly trying to find a means of escape from him. Or to even determine what he meant to do with her. How and who was he planning to strike fear into?
But realization soon struck her as Eardwulf escorted her up a set of stairs and out into the rampart. Facing Edward’s army on the field below. Facing her friends. Sihtric.
“Edward!”
Eardwulf’s voice grated as he shouted for the king’s attention.
“Edward! My Lord King!”
Eardwulf’s focus was now on garnering attention from the king, his grip had shifted, clasping an arm tight around Cwen’s throat and the knife held in his free hand. Braced against the stonewall of the parapet.
Cwen clasped her hands onto his arm desperately trying to break some of the hold he had on her. But his strength and size overpowered her. She watched as his fingers flexed and then gripped the knife repeatedly as he waited for any sign of reply from the king.
And then she heard him. Crying out to her with such fear and anguish that it almost broke her.
“Cwen!” Sihtric called, rushing forward from the base of the tree in the field. Osferth and Finan were quick to restrain him, to stop him from coming in range of any archer's arrows. What sounds followed in the next few moments we’re not words but the sounds of a man crazed. An animal desperate to act and protect what was his.
“Is that your man now, Cwen?”
Eardwulf’s words were hot against her cheek. Cwen could do nothing but watch while Sihtric struggled and fought against Finan and Osferth.
“I have struck fear in him. The rest will follow,” Eardwulf paused, scanning the crowd assembled to watch on the field. Edward had stepped out from the ranks of his men but had made no move to reply to Eardwulf. Seeing this, Eardwulf shifted his focus.
“Lord Uhtred!” He now called. Taunting.
“Lord Dane Slayer! Come forth Uhtred!”
Cwen watched helplessly as Sihtric finally stopped struggling against his brothers. He stared up at her, panting and flexing his jaw. Then Uhtred was beside them and striding forward several paces in front of them.
“We have your daughter, Uhtred.”
Eardwulf’s words stopped Uhtred in his tracks and caused the rest of his men to still.
“She is almost as good a hump as this one here,” Eardwulf yelled the words while releasing his grasp around Cwen’s shoulders to shove her forward by the nape of her neck.
Finding courage from his deception, Cwen yelled, “He lies! She is treated fairly and with respect,” but Eardwulf’s hand shoved her forward so that her head connected with the stone wall, dulling the last of her words.
Feeling dazed, Cwen could hear shouts from the men below. Sihtric’s voice was chief among them.
Then Eardwulf’s voice rose again over the shouts and protests.
“Now do I have your attention?” He paused while the soldier’s voices died down. “We hold the city. And we will continue to hold the city. Do you know how Sigtryggr took your city? I told him it was left undefended. It was me!” He paused here scanning the crowd and breathing hard. His hand still held Cwen bent over, braced against the stone wall.
“Too often I was overlooked or underused. Swept aside and discarded. But no more!” His words were coming out desperate now, pained. “Now you would have cause to fear me.”
Struggling to push herself upright, Cwen retorted, “you are nothing but a snake in the grass. A coward. That is why you will never rise. You will never become anything more.”
Cwen could feel the anger radiating off of Eardwulf. His entire body quivered with malice. She knew she needed to keep him off guard. Keep him impetuous if she was to find a chance to save herself. It was a dangerous game to play, to goad him on, but if she did not then she was sure this would end badly.
“Shut your mouth, whore!” Eardwulf snapped while dragging Cwen back upright against him.
“Sigtryggr has the power here, Edward! I have the power.”
Cwen flinched at his words. He had brought the knife back up to her torso, pressing against her breasts. But it was clear his attention wasn’t truly focused on her. Chaos and rage were emanating off of him. Cwen could feel his breath catching and the sobs seizing in his throat. The turmoil and fury he battled had won.
“And you will watch as I wield that power! I will hump this bitch now and then I will find your daughter, Uhtred, and I will hump her too. And you will not be able to do anything to stop me.”
Eardwulf’s final words were bellowed at the crowd below. It was then that Cwen felt the buzzing in her ears once more and time felt sluggish.
She could hear the shouts from the men gathered below. The din of the noise and the buzzing were too loud for her to pick out Sihtric’s voice, but she knew the anguish he would be feeling.
She felt as Eardwulf shoved her body forward once more, discarding his knife and bodily pressing himself against her. He fumbled with the bundles of her skirt, reaching down to grab handfuls of the fabric.
Cwen felt herself desperately try to push her body backwards, to gain any sort of leverage or purchase. In her struggle, Cwen brought her leg up bracing against the wall. And her hand brushed the handle of Sihtric’s knife.
With no hesitation, Cwen grasped the handle and pulled it from the sheath. Bellowing, she drove the blade back with an upward thrust from her hip with all the strength her arm could muster at such an odd angle. And she felt the weapon sink into flesh.
Immediately, the pressure holding her against the stone eased. Cwen ripped the knife from Eardwulf’s gut and whirled around.
Eardwulf’s hands were grasping at his abdomen where blood had begun to seep through his fingers.
Cwen was vaguely aware of boots clamoring up the stairs to her left. But she was more focused on the rush of adrenaline coursing through her body. Eardwulf turned his eyes back up to meet hers and lurched forward, hand reaching for her throat. And upon instinct, Cwen brought the knife up between herself and Eardwulf. She felt the tremor of the blade sinking into flesh once more as she pushed the blade outward and Eardwulf’s own momentum came crashing against it. The knife ripped past the flesh and scraped off of the bone, then tearing into his vocal cords. Cwen felt as slick, crimson gore seeped over her hand.
The buzzing had stopped. The running feet had stopped. The sounds of the shouts and yells from the field below were still slow and distant to Cwen’s ears. Slowly, she pushed Eardwulf’s body away from hers and let go of the knife.
Stepping to the side, Cwen watched as he dropped down on his knees and his head lolled forward. Fresh blood pooled out of his mouth. Cwen’s heart hammered in her chest and she felt a tingling moving along her body. First in her toes, then along her fingers, and traveling up her arms. Adrenaline roaring through her veins.
It was after a few more moments that Cwen became aware of the other person on the ramparts. Raising her eyes, Cwen saw that Sigtryggr stood only a few paces away, surveying the scene before him.
He lifted his hands in a gesture of peace and slowly walked forward. His eyes never left Cwen. Not when he closed the distance between himself and Eardwulf. And not when he stooped to grasp the knife handle, ripping it from Eardwulf’s neck. The gesture brought a new spurt of blood and elicited several choked coughs from Eardwulf.
Slowly, Sigtryggr grasped Eardwulf by the shoulders and pulled him up to his feet. The man’s life was slowly ebbing away. Cwen listened as Sigtryggr spoke to Eardwulf.
“Do you see what ruling through fear has earned you, Christian? I doubt there will be any who mourn your death.”
With those final words, the Danish conqueror grasped onto Eardwulf’s shoulders. He moved to the stone and shoved the man bodily over the parapet to crash on the hard earth below.
The shouts from the Saxons died on their lips. And Cwen watched as Sigtryggr held out his hand to her. The knife laid flat in his palm. An offering to her.
“He can hurt you no longer.” Sigtryggr’s voice was calm and low. It was collected and composed. And Cwen studied his eyes before she reached out to take the knife. They showed only sincerity.
Once she had taken the knife and stepped back a pace to have some space, Sigtryggr turned his attention towards the Saxons.
“King Edward of Wessex,” he shouted, “That man did not speak for me. And he is of no concern now.” Sigtryggr paused here, searching the crowd to see if he could find Edward among his men.
“Come on out, King. I have shown myself. Now let us see you. Come and meet me at the gate. I wish to speak with you, eye to eye. One man to another.”
Hearing his words, Cwen turned to scan the crowd. But while Sigtryggr was searching for Edward, her eyes were hunting for Sihtric. And he was there. His eyes were trained on her. Cwen could still see the desperation emanating off of him. The overwhelming yearning to be embracing his lover while only able to gaze from afar. Cwen felt it too. A physical pull lifting off her chest that there was no choice but to resist. Slowly, Sihtric’s gaze eased her breathing and Cwen felt the drain of exhaustion creep into her bones.
Sigtryggr’s next words caught Cwen’s attention.
“Bring the boys,” he spoke quietly to the guards standing along the stair to their left.
Cwen watched as Aethelstan and another young boy, Aelfweard presumably, approached. Without hesitation, Cwen reached her arms out to envelope Aethelstan. The boy embraced her wordlessly and headless of the blood Cwen noticed had begun to dry on her hands and arms, turning sticky. Sigtryggr watched while Cwen held her arm out to the second child, offering him a bit of maternal comfort and presence as well. Sigtryggr made no move to stop the boys nor even a face of disapproval. His eyes held merely curiosity.
“Meet with me, King Edward,” he called, turning back to face the warriors. “Come,” he paused, seeing that Edward had stepped forward, “and talk to us at the gate. Your sons wish to see their father.”
After an interminable time, Cwen watched as Edward’s standard bearer shouted up that the king would approach the gate and treat with Sigtryggr.
After he had confirmation that Edward would approach, Sigtryggr turned and gently ushered Cwen and the boys down the stairs, his men shifting to make room for their descent.
Cwen stiffened when she felt Sigtryggr place a hand on her back guiding her away from the front gate. Almost instantly, the hand was removed.
“Forgive me, lady,” he paused, questioning as Cwen turned to face him, the boys still clutched tightly to her, “I do not know your name.”
Cwen studied the man’s face once more. Standing closer to him, she could see more details surrounding the scars he wore along his brow and cheek. She also saw a startling depth and gentleness behind his eyes.
“Cwen,” she replied, “My name is Cwen.”
Sigtryggr’s lips quirked upward slightly in amusement. “Ah, so you are one of the young women who traveled the countryside with Stiorra in Mercia while I took Winchester?”
When Cwen did not answer, he continued, “Stiorra has mentioned you on several occasions. She likes you. Respects you,” he paused to turn and glance at some of his men and the gate, “I do not know how you came to be inside the walls, but it is of little concern. And I assure you that no more harm will come to you. I will have you taken to be with Stiorra. But the boys will come with me. I do not wish them harm. And let us pray to all the gods that their father will see reason and help us avoid that outcome.”
Cwen moved to place herself in front of the boys, but Sigtryggr’s men instantly were on her, overpowering her.
“Stop!” Sigtryggr had held up a hand and yelled the command. “You will unhand them.”
His men obeyed him without delay and he approached her placing a gentle but firm hand on her arm.
“You must give them to me now, Cwen. Trust me when I assure you that I wish to be different from the Northmen who have come before me. A better man than the Danes who have raped and ravaged your people. I do not,” he emphasized the word, “want them harmed. But this is what must be done.”
Sigtryggr held out his hands, one towards Aethelstan and one towards Aelfweard. Cwen turned her face to meet Aethelstan’s eyes. They boy nodded at her before reaching out and taking the outstretched hand. He was followed closely by his half-brother and Cwen slowly felt them both slip from her fingers.
Turning to walk to the gate, Sigtryggr spoke to the man nearest him.
“Bring her to Stiorra and see that she is allowed to clean herself and be fed. I will check that this is done later.”
“No,” Cwen protested, finding her voice frail and wavering. But gathering her courage, she spoke once more, “No!”
Sigtryggr stopped and turned his face over his shoulder to watch her.
“I,” she stammered, hesitating, “I was not alone here. Another woman, another friend of Stiorra, Eadith is here with me. I must find her. I fear for either of us to be alone.” Cwen’s eyes searched Sigtryggr’s face, pleading.
After a moment, the Dane gave a single nod before turning back to stride towards the gates.
Taking one step backwards and then another, Cwen turned and rushed off to the kitchens in search of Eadith.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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#the last kingdom#sihtric#sihtric x oc#fields of wildflowers#sigtryggr#tlk fan fic#tlk fanfiction#the last kingdom fanfiction
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can you do one where shoto and the reader are the ua traitors, if your too busy you can ignore no pressure,<3
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The tension’s rising for this one-
Traitor
Pairing: Reader x Todoroki Shoto
Genre: Not quite Angst? Tense? Is tense a genre? It is now-
They didn’t expect the attack to be so soon. Good thing Y/N and Shoto are always . Ever since they were little, their goal has been to make a mark on the heroes. This is the perfect opportunity for just that...
Masterlist
The device strapped to her ankle beeps quietly, hidden from view from the other students in the classroom. Y/N’s eyes widen. So soon? She had expected at least two days before they went through with it.
Over the past 6 months, Y/N had undoubtedly gotten close to everyone in class 1A. She enjoyed staying up late nights with Mina and Denki, training with Izuku, bantering with Bakugou and baking with Satos. She really really enjoyed every moment she spent with these people. The laughs, the inside jokes, the kind, caring touches, the worry for safety, she would remember it all.
She would remember it all even when they were gone. See, she did enjoy her time here. She liked these people, her friends.
But they were training to be heroes. They would grow up to be heroes. People who were on the ‘right side of society.’ Although she really really liked these people…
Her hate for hero society would always win out.
It’s why she sits calmly in her chair as the building shakes with an explosion, about 10 meters from them.
The rest of the class goes dead silent for a second, eyes widening in shock, before all chaos breaks loose.
“The fuck was that?”
“We’re being attacked?”
“How is this possible?”
“This is the safest place, that can’t be-”
“What’s going on?!”
Everyone goes silent as Aizawa’s voice overpowers theirs, instructing them to remain quiet and calm. Y/N can hear screams from outside the room, and a small smile creeps up her face. Oh well. She could deal with this sooner rather than later.
She gets out of her chair and moves towards the door silently. She ignores Aizawa’s instruction to sit back down. As soon her hand grasps the door handle, she finds herself immobilized, looking down, she sees herself bound by her sensei’s capture weapon.
“What are you doing, Y/N?” his voice sharp as he stares at her. Y/N mulls over the thought of playing innocent, but sighs and shakes her head a little. No use.
“I’m leaving.”
“The hell are you talking about?” She turns to Bakugou. “You know something about this?” She can practically feel the atmosphere turn cold when she doesn;t immediately deny it.
“Y/N?” Izuku’s voice is feeble, laced with disbelief.
“I do. I was the one who planned it.” She turns to him with a smile. Her smile isn’t the warm one Izuku’s used to, it’s cold and calculating. Sharp and ruthless. She feels the cloth tighten around her, as Aizawa’s eyes narrow.
“You’ll be explaining this to me later-”
“No she won’t.”
The cloth around her starts smoking, flames tainting the white cloth black. It continues until the fabric is burned away, leaving Y/N to move easily again. There are several gasps and cries as another student steps forward, taking his place beside Y/N.
Todoroki’s eyes scan the classroom, taking in the shocked, distressed looks of his classmates and teacher. His gaze flickers over to Y/N scanning her for any injuries. He’s satisfied to find her unharmed.
“You...no way. Guys, you can’t take a joke this far!” Denki’s nervous laugh breaks the silence. Another boom rattles the building and the lights flicker momentarily above them. More screams are heard from beyond the door.
“Who said anything about a joke?” Y/N shrugs, grabbing the doorknob again and yanking open the door. “These past 6 months have been fun and all, but at the end of the day, you’re all going to be heroes. People on the ‘right’ side of society. It was our job to make sure that didn’t happen.” She nods to Todoroki, who is as stoic as ever, though something akin to determination lights his eyes.
“You-...You were the traitors!” Mina cries out.
“My path was decided the moment my father laid his hands on me. If you want to label us as ‘traitors’, go ahead. It’s your society that’s taking advantage of people, forcing them into labels. ” Todoroki’s eyes narrow at the memory.
The word ‘traitor’ seems to trigger the class out of their stupor. They take on defensive stances, ready to fight or defend.
“I wouldn’t do that.” Todoroki’s voice cuts through the chaos, as sharp and cold as ever. “If anything happens to us, the whole building is rigged to blow up.”
Y/N nods along, pointing to her ankle. “These devices track our movements and are communication devices.” She grins. “6 months. You didn’t notice for 6 whole months. Some heroes you are.” At that taunt, she can see Bakugou tense up and take a step forward. Kirishima quickly grabs his shoulder, keeping him in place.
“The league should already be here. You’ve lost. if not lost, then at least been set back by a lot.
Y/N grabs his arm as he comes over to her, and pulls him outside.
“Take care, heroes...” The two of them disappear through the doorway, ignoring the indignant shouts from behind them.
Requests Are Open and Welcome!
(31/03/2021)
#bnha#bnha x reader#bnha fanfiction#bnha todoroki#bnha shoto todoroki#todoroki x reader#shoto todoroki#todoroki shouto#mha#mha x y/n#mha x reader#bnha scenarios#bnha fluff#mha todoroki#todoroki fluff#todoroki#Angst#bnha hurt comfort#hurt comfort#reader#fanfic#fanfiction#mha fanfiction#mha fanfic#x reader#todoroki shoto x reader#y/n
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Personal Training
- Katsuki Bakugou x fem!reader SFW
- Warnings: mention of harm, bandaging wounds, choking
- Summary: as a third year, you and your childhood friend Shinso have been moved from the general studies course onto the hero course. No one seems too keen on you two, until you meet Bakugou late one night in the training city and he seems to take a personal interest in you
———————
Wandering around the testing sites at midnight wasn’t something you should be doing, but ever since you got moved from general studies into the hero course it was the only way you could calm yourself down after a day of training. It was dark, the cold air still around your skin and the only light shining was from the full moon above you. You’ve always dreamt of being a hero, but knowing you couldn’t control your quirk, knowing you had the ability to seriously hurt someone if you lost control, you applied for general studies and vowed to learn to control your power before you tried to move into the hero course. Your thoughts drifted to Shinso, you two had been friends for years going all the way back to nursery, just two toddlers constantly holding hands and only ever with each other. Your chest swelled with pride thinking about how both of you had beaten the odds and been moved from general studies to the hero course after all your efforts. You were in your third year, you’d missed a whole two years of the intense hero course training but it meant you two finally got the attention you deserved. You were finally seen as hero material. Sure you felt bad for the people who got moved out, but you didn’t know them and they were obviously not making the most of the opportunity, so you were glad to take their spot. You had to be a hero at any cost.
It was quiet around you, the only noise you could hear was your own footsteps, your breathing the only sign of life. Your breath was coming out softly but because of the cold it was visible, the curls and twists of your breath softly disappearing into the moonlight. You’d been wandering around the town for a few hours now, watching the silent, dead city around you, the buildings towering over you and the roads stretched out and empty. It reminded you of home, disappearing after long days being bullied at school and skulking through the dying streets.
“You shouldn’t be here.” You hadn’t noticed the boy sneaking up on you. You could understand why he currently held your throat in his hands, you did look exceptionally different in and out of class. You didn’t bother fighting his grip, you knew this boy and he would certainly overpower you in hand to hand combat.
“You with that hand guy? He sent you in here to spy on me huh?” His grip tightened but you never once broke eye contact. His red eyes blown out with anger, his lips curled into a snarl and his breath warm on your face.
“I-I’m in your c-class dumb arse.” You managed to get out between shallow breaths. “The o-one with Shinso all the time. The new girl.” He seemed to believe you, releasing his grip on you ever so slightly but still eyeing you with intrigue.
“She has floaty purple hair, and that weird dark aura quirk thing...” You weren’t necessarily in the position to roll your eyes at him, but surely he should have noticed that your whole ‘dark aura quirk thing’ changed your physical appearance too? You’d fought him enough. You decided to indulge him, letting your power grow until you changed in his hands, the light from the moon almost being drawn into you as the darkness swirled and danced around you. Your body surged with the release of this power, your skin feeling hot, as if it was about to burn right off of your bones. You had never been able to control yourself before UA, and this place had shown you how to harness this power and use it to your advantage.
“Okay creep -“ he released you suddenly when your darkness started creeping up his arm and pulling him in. “- I believe you.” He was wiping his hand on his trousers now, obviously feeling the same burning you always did. You pulled your darkness back in, your hair falling flat against you, your eyes returning to their natural colour and your skin settling down. Dusting yourself off, you stood to face Bakugou. He towered over you, the boy growing to be over six foot during your time at UA.
“It’s almost as if you should believe me, seeing as I also live on the same floor as you.” Raising an eyebrow you tried to register his reaction but he didn’t seem to be paying you any more mind.
“Oi, I’m talking-“
“Shut up, I’m not interested anymore.” Sticking his hands in his pockets he turned on his heel and walked away from you. But you weren’t gonna let him get away that easily.
“Oi fucker! You don’t get to talk to me like that!” You walked after him, grabbing his arm.
“Get off.” He snapped back, his eyes dark and angry.
“Not until you apologise for trying to choke me out.”
“Not gonna happen sweetheart. Don’t wander around on your own acting all sketchy and I wouldn’t have had to.” This was ridiculous, all you wanted was an apology.
“But what about you huh?” He stopped walking and turned to face you.
“You’re skulking around here too, does that mean I get to choke you?” You smirked up at him feeling proud of yourself when his eyebrows furrowed.
“You can try, but I’ll kill you if you do extra.” This fucking guy.
“Are you serious right now? Like, does this act usually work on your classmates? Because I’m not scared of an immature man child who can’t even apologise when he’s done something wrong.” In a blur he’d managed to pin you up against the wall that you swore was 15 foot away from you two only seconds ago, his body pressed into yours and his hand around your throat again. You felt his thigh in between your legs, and you couldn’t help the shudder that moved through your body when he spoke.
“You should be scared of me, I’m gonna be number one, I’m the best.” He was staring directly into your eyes, not breaking the gaze he was bearing down on you.
“You think you’re gonna be number one? I beg to differ.” His cockyness seemed infectious. “I’ll beat you Bakugou, just you wait.”
———————
It had been a few weeks since your little scuffle and you had been trying to keep your word.
“Y/n, are you seriously gonna try and fight Bakugou right now?” You’d filled Shinso in on what had happened between the two of you and even though you knew he believed in your abilities, he really didn’t think you were ready to fight him.
“I need practise, and I can never go all out with you because I care about you, you’re my friend! It doesn’t work!” You laughed and Shinso rolled his eyes. He always asked you to go all in when you two sparred but you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt him, even if you knew he wouldn’t hate you, you would hate yourself.
“Look, he’s finally done with Kirishima so now’s my chance. I’ll be okay I promise.”
You totally weren’t okay. Bakugou had kicked your arse, and all he had to do was get close enough that you could feel the heat from his skin and place a hand on your waist during an attack and your hormone-riddled brain freaked out. Not that he’d noticed you’d frozen mid fight, so he just kept firing off attacks as you scrambled to think up a defensive strategy. But it was no use, one well aimed hit and you were down.
You were with Recovery Girl in the nurses office when Shinso popped his head in.
“Told you so.” He said bluntly, drawing a tut from Recovery Girl.
“If you’re gonna be negative she doesn’t need you in here. She need positivity for healing thank you.” He apologised and moved further into the room.
“So, how are you feeling?”
“Tired I guess, and a little sore, but nothing bad. How did the rest of the lesson go?”
“Well, Bakugou and Todoroki got into another fight, Deku tried to break it up but that didn’t really work so they’ve all got dorm cleaning duties for the next week.” That got a chuckle out of you.
“Bakugou? Cleaning? Unlikely.”
“Oh yeah, Aizawa said he’d stop by randomly to make sure they were cleaning.” By now Recovery Girl had ushered you off of the bed and had begun handing you your clothes back.
“You’re all bandaged up, now get dressed and get out of here! And take some candy! You! Make sure she gets back to her room safely will you?” Shinso nodded as you slipped your jacket and shoes back on, wrapping his arm around your waist as a support. You were thankful for him, even if he was a miserable bastard most of the time.
———————
Shinso had managed to get you back in one piece, placing you on your bed softly. No one else had come to help, but you two had expected as much. Since being transferred in you had been singled out as the outsiders of the group, no one had even tried as much as to have dinner with you guys or watch the tv with you two. You were always alone together, you were each other’s rock.
“Hey Purple hair.” The voice behind him was rough and angry, you recognised it in an instant.
“Bakugou. What do you want?” Shinso tried to take no mind, keeping all of his focus on tucking you into bed.
“I need to speak to y/l/n. Alone.”
“I don’t trust you alone with her after today.”
“Let me speak to her.” Shinso turned to face him, his eyes burning holes into Bakugou’s head.
“After the stunt you pulled? No-“
“Toshi, I want to hear what he has to say.” You tugged on his shirt feebly, and his guard dropped. He always softened up around you.
“Fine. But I’ll be outside.” You mumbled a thank you as he barged past Bakugou, hitting him with his shoulder as he passed. Shutting the door behind himself, Bakugou entered your room looking oddly sheepish.
“Hey.” You started softly, not wanting to jump straight into a fight with the guy.
“Hey. About today? I mean, I’m not gonna say sorry because you asked to fight but I just wanna say that I should have noticed you freeze and let up a bit. I didn’t notice and Kirishima had to point it out to me later on, so yeah. Don’t come in unprepared next time.” Well. It was a start.
“Oh, I mean I don’t know what came over me. I didn’t mean to freeze up on you trust me!” You tried to laugh it off, but the atmosphere in the room was way too weird.
“Was it because I touched you?” You blushed at this and dropped your gaze to the floor. Where you really that easy to read? “Because if it was then Kirishima owes me $20.” Oh.
“No. I don’t know why I froze but it wasn’t because you touched me.” He smirked at this, moving to sit on the end of your bed. You instinctively pulled your legs closer to yourself but he took this as an invite to spread out more. You took in his toned shoulders, his strong arms and long fingers. Your mind drifted, wandering how good they’d feel slipping under your shirt and -
“You’re not even listening are you?” He pulled you from your dirty thoughts and you shook your head.
“Wow. I said that it’s a shame, because I’d love to explore what else I can make you do with my hands.” He had to be joking right? You blinked at him, your mouth agape with pure confusion.
“See? You’re all frozen again. I must have an effect on you.” He started moving closer to you, shifting on your bed until his lips were a mere inch away from yours. His eyes were boring into yours, but the pupils were flickering slightly from your eyes to your mouth. He raised a thumb to your lips, rubbing the calloused skin across your bottom lip. You swallowed, suddenly aware how fast your heart was beating and how clammy your hands had gotten.
“Bok-” He placed a finger on your lips as if you quiet you.
“Call me Katsuki, y/n. I have a feeling we’ll be training much more closely from here on out.” With that, he pulled away and stood from your bed. He left your room, glaring at Shinso who was waiting patiently outside. The purple haired boy ran into your room as quickly as he could, inspecting your face when he saw you red, hot and flushed.
“I’m not even gonna ask what happened here.” He scrunched up his nose in disgust.
“Oh, n-nothing happened. He just offered to train with me more.”
#my hero academia#mha#mha x y/n#mha fluff#mha x reader#mha bakugo katsuki#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x you#mha bakugou#bnha imagines#bnha headcanons#bnha#bnha x reader#bnha fluff#bnha angst#boku no hero academia#bakugou angst#bakugou katsuki angst
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Love Is The Only Mission - Part 20
“Alright then, what are you up to…?” The Doctor’s hands flew over the computer controls in a hurry as he was searching the surveillance system for clues. He had overpowered the two guards with practiced martial arts grips in the security control room and they were now slouching over in their chairs. He flicked through the camera feeds at incredible speed. There were several hundred, if not more! Every corridor, every laboratory, every cell… He stopped abruptly and magnified the screen when he found them. Since he had lost contact with Liv, he had no way of knowing what was going on, this way at least he could formulate a plan on his way to them.
“Oh Liv…” He mumbled as he watched the scene in front of him. Liv was kneeling in front of Helen, handcuffed, and talking to her, clearly upset. Helen remained motionless, staring off into the distance and instantly, the Doctor drew all the terrible conclusions he had dreaded. Both his friends looked a little worse for wear and anger boiled up inside the Doctor’s throat. They had both been through so much already, they didn’t deserve this. He had to do something and quickly.
“Doctor?” The Master’s voice echoed through his mind.
“No, no, you stay out of my mind!” He squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on guarding himself. He swallowed his emotions down as he was sure it were those the Master was sensing.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” His age old advisory carried on in his mind but the Doctor cut himself off from it, he focused on the here and now:
“Okay, where is the… ah!” He worked the controls and quickly found sound and the intercom. “Liv!” He called and the med-tech’s head shot up in surprise.
“Doctor?! Where are you? I thought the bug had stopped working when…” She answered, looking around while Helen didn’t react at all.
“It has, this is an intercom, I’m opening the door to your cell,” he informed her quickly and pushed some more buttons while Liv clambered to her feet. “The TARDIS is on the hanger deck. Take Helen and meet me there!” He carried on, deciding on the best course of action. “I’ve messed with the security system but now guards are everywhere and the Master is looking for me. Your corridor is empty though, I’m enabling all the doors they could use to get to you and only leave open what you need to get to the hanger, do you understand?” He instructed.
“Yes. I’ll try but Doctor…” Liv’s voice was strained, her expression worried.
”What?” He frowned.
“It’s Helen, she…” On the screen, Liv looked back to Helen who remained where she was, not so much as looking up to see where the Doctor’s voice was coming from.
“What?” The Doctor prompted though he was sure he already knew what was going on.
“I’m not sure she’ll come willingly,” Liv explained. “She’s under some sort of mind control, the Master or… or maybe something physical, there was neurosurgery equipment and I was unconscious so I don’t know what-” she broke off and took a deep breath. “Point is, she’s not herself, she’s obeying him.”
“You must try Liv, I’m not sure I can get to you as easily as all that, you have to meet me halfway at least…” The Doctor said, accepting the confirmation of what he had already sensed. An idea occurred to him. “But if it’s the Master’s mind control, I can try to interfere with it. Might not be the best idea but… needs must,” he decided, his expression turning determined.
“What do you mean? What are you doing?” Liv asked, sounding worried.
“Trust me on this. I am going to attack his mental defenses, it might weaken his hold on her. It might allow you to break through if you can make her remember who you are,“ the Doctor explained as he placed his fingers against his temples. “You just try to get her to leave, okay?”
“Alright,” Liv agreed and the Doctor didn’t waste another moment:
“Contact.”
“Hello, Doctor,” the Master responded immediately and in his mind’s eye, the Doctor could see him smiling. He saw distinguished white hair, a sharply trimmed beard and bright, piercing eyes. This was not a Master he had met before.
“Master,” the Doctor responded, turning all his mental energy towards him, drawing him in, demanding his entire focus in hopes of distracting him from Helen.
“I thought is was you I felt,” the Master stated smugly and the Doctor huffed:
“I see you have a new face.”
“And you’ve managed to hang on to this one for quite some time, congratulations,” the Master mocked. “Have you been enjoying your stroll through my facility?”
---
“Okay, Helen, this is it, you have to work with me now!” Liv knelt back in front of Helen once more and took her face in her hands. The Doctor was giving them a chance and they had to take it. “Helen, it’s me, it’s Liv. Please, you must remember,” she urged. “You always thought you were so out of place with the Doctor and me, that you still had so much catching up to do, that you didn’t fit in… but you were wrong. You were so wrong! And you showed everyone! It was you that saved the universe!” Liv spoke quickly, passionately. “You’re not out of place, you were right where you belonged, with us, with- with me,” her voice faltered for a moment and she took a deep breath. “Please Helen, come back to me.” She brushed her aching fingertips over the soft skin of her cheeks. “I’m not giving up hope, because there is always hope. Always. Even when you’re floating in deep space with five minutes of breathable air remaining… We got out of that, we can get out of this!”
“Five minutes, forty-eight seconds,” Helen spoke as she met Liv’s eyes.
“Yes! Yes, Helen, we only had five minutes and forty-eight seconds and we lived, we got out of there… together,” Liv took a deep breath, fighting tears of relief at the small reaction.
“It was so dark, there were no stars…” Helen frowned as she carried on speaking.
“Yes it was!” Liv sobbed.
“It’s dark here too…” Helen mumbled and confusion and disorientation played on her face for a moment, but only until her pretty features contorted in pain. “Ah!” She gasped.
“It’s okay, it’s okay, you’ll be fine!” Liv spoke hurriedly as she sent a silent plea to whatever Gods were listening. She felt helpless. She couldn’t pull Helen into her arms, not with her hands restrained, but she pressed her forehead to hers, hoping to give her strength in the fight against the Master’s control. It seemed to be working, the Doctor had been right, they were making slow, painful progress.
“Who are you? What are you doing to me?” Helen whimpered in pain. She shoved Liv back and the med-tech couldn’t keep her balance, she fell onto her backside, looking up at the linguist who hunched over, burying her face in her hands.
“It’s me, Helen, it’s Liv. And I’m not doing this, I would never hurt you, it’s the Master, he-” Liv pulled herself up and reached for Helen’s hands, even as she tried to fight her off. “You have to trust me, come with me.”
“He is the Master, and I will obey him,” Helen whispered and Liv sobbed:
“No, please…”
#Doctor Who#fanfiction#femslashfeb2022#liv chenka#helen sinclair#eighth doctor#the war master#whump#action/adventure#dw fanfic#alternate universe
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Saberstaffs: A Guide for People Creating Jedi/Sith OCs
I posted this on Instagram a while ago but I figured I should post it here too! This is basically my analysis of saberstaffs paired with some history and extra info. I’m by no means an expert, just a SW weapons nerd who enjoys rambling about things, bonus if people find it helpful :) most of the general info is backed by the wookiee for anyone curious to give it a look
The History
Saberstaffs are rare among the Order, and while a decent amount of it has to do with how hard it is to master, its origins also play a part in this fact. Originally known as the “Sith Lightsaber”, saberstaffs were created by the Old Sith Empire (as the name suggests), serving as weapons of aggression with the ability to easily overwhelm and overpower. The design had been pretty much unheard of until it was wielded by Exar Kun during the Great Sith War, the fallen Jedi having modified his original lightsaber using schematics from Sith Holocrons he had found. It was forgotten shortly after, trading off from hand to hand before eventually making its way to the Order for safe keeping (this is obviously a very simple explanation since I don’t want to dwell on it too much). The design became popularized among the Sith during the Jedi Civil War, and was even wielded by some skilled Jedi, though the Council frowned upon its use as the staff was a weapon of aggression purely designed to kill more effectively than the standard saber. The Order’s prejudice against the weapon remained a constant even into the waning days of the Republic, and as a result, very few Jedi utilized it. By the time the Invasion of Naboo rolled around, they’d faded into almost complete obscurity, so you can imagine the surprise of Qui Gon and Obi Wan when Maul pulled one out.
Schematics
The original saber staffs were much more complicated than the ones seen during the Clone Wars, consisting of a singular lightsaber mechanism that had two emitters, Exar Kun’s modified staff fitting this design. The more modern staffs, such as Maul’s, were made up of two, standard lightsabers that were melded together at the pommel in order to form one, elongated hilt. I’m actually not sure what the exact reasoning for the simplification was since the original was more effective, though I assume it has to do with the loss of the original holocrons and a change in wielding styles as the years progressed. The Council was right though in the fact that they were made for better effectiveness in combat; two ends meant faster attacks, and rapid assaults could be dealt out by the wielding with minimum movement. On the flipside, it was also good for defense—specifically in dueling, I’ll get to combat against blasters later—because it covered more area with less effort. There was also a psychological impact that comes with most unorthodox weapons, as tracking two blades is obviously a lot harder than one, and either end was often thought of as separate weapons instead of one.
Of course, there were still weaknesses, and with great killing power came debilitating flaws if put in the wrong hands. Wielding a staff without training was fatal in most cases, and it was likely that an inexperienced user would slash or bisect themselves trying to utilize one. A prime example of this comes from Antos Wyrick who accidentally impaled both himself and his daughter when trying to kill her. The minimum movement needed also came at a cost when it came to attacking and parrying because it’s impossible to simply adjust positions, as someone using a standard blade might. The sun djem contact mark could be employed by an opponent with little experience, and due to the length of the hilt, it’s hard to defend against. The best comparison to a saberstaff in terms of modern weapons would be the quarterstaff, though it’s not completely adequate because there’s only so much area for the user to put their hands whereas a quarterstaff, you have the entire length. The weight is also different as the weight of any lightsaber is condensed at the hilt while a quarterstaff’s weight would be evenly spread throughout it. Because the user’s hands have to be positioned at the general center of the weapon at all times (the hilt), power that would be possible with a quarterstaff is lost with the saberstaff.
Wielding Styles/Forms
Next, we have a breakdown of wielding styles, and to do this I’m going to be using Maul and Krell.
Maul
There’s apparently some controversy over what lightsaber Form Maul uses, though based on what I’ve seen from the show and the movie, I think that Juyo is the closest form to compare his fighting style too. Maul’s lightsaber is an extension of his body; he was raised for one thing, and that was to kill Jedi. He is, in the simplest sense, a killing machine, and his fighting style is reflective of that, martial arts interwoven with his strikes and parries, etc. etc. Maul, while obviously capable of defense, is a very aggressive, offensive fighter, and this is abundantly clear in his duels against Ahsoka, Obi Wan, Qui Gon… I’m sure there are videos floating around for each of the duels, I recommend giving them a rewatch if you’re curious. His power comes from his hips, and he relies on straight up striking power and prowess in combat in order to overwhelm his opponents. His style is pretty similar to how one would wield a quarterstaff, which is incredibly effective when it comes to melee combat against one or multiple opponents, but an open battlefield is a different story.
The biggest problem for Maul’s fighting style when applied to an open battlefield is the lack of maneuverability and the uncovered area that makes up the hilt of the staff. In a lightsaber duel, he has full coverage of his body since the blades are pretty one dimensional (I’m not sure if that’s the right word to use, but I’m using it anyways) while against blasters, there’s more open, uncovered area that he’s not going to be able to defend. I don’t recall seeing a lot of blaster vs lightsaber action with Maul, not when it came to his staff anyways, so it’s hard to determine what he’s capable of when it comes to that. I’m just applying what I’ve seen to a hypothetical situation—the bottomline is that Maul is likely a more effective duelist than anything else, and his use of the saberstaff plays into that strength.
Krell
Krell—who I know you all love—uses Jar’kai and I want to say hints of Form V based on his aggressive way of fighting while also on the defensive against dozens of clones. We unfortunately didn’t see a lot of fighting from Krell until he was slaughtering the 501st and 212th, so I don’t have a whole lot to work with here, but I do know that he used the Force in tandem with his staffs which was something that was made easier by the fact that he had four arms. Unlike Maul, Krell doesn’t face the problem of lack of coverage when it comes to fighting on the battlefield—because of his anatomy, he’s able to fully rotate the blades in a manner that covers him entirely, though something important to note about that is the change in power. The power from his strikes come almost entirely from his arms, which is clearest when he’s fighting the clones up in the tower. He’s able to cut through men without putting a huge focus on power, 1) because he’s already naturally strong and 2) because of the reach of his lightsabers. He’s outnumbered, but his sheer combative prowess with his lightsabers allows him to keep an edge during the entirety of the fight until he’s ultimately taken down by Tup.
I think the most important thing to note about Krell is that he constantly makes space, which is a tactic commonly used by staff users specifically (it’s also used when handling other weapons of course, though that’s when it comes to multiple opponents; with a staff, you constantly want space so you can strike from afar). He makes space to prevent himself from getting overrun even when severely outnumbered, and this tactic allows him to employ the deadliness of his lightsabers on an open battlefield, whereas Maul would have more trouble doing so thanks to the differences in their fighting style. Because I haven’t seen Krell in a duel, it’s hard to say how he would combat someone else with a melee weapon, though I want to say it’s likely similar to Grievous’s way of fighting. The sheer amount of blades he holds makes it easy to overwhelm an opponent, and because of his stature, he doesn’t have a need for extreme power behind each swing, which allows better maneuverability (as we see when he’s spinning his lightsabers).
General Pros and Cons
So, I’ll just finish this off with the main pros and cons after breaking everything down and giving my input.
Strengths:
• Offensive and defensive capabilities
• Faster attack rate
• Bigger surface area for deflecting/parrying
• Unorthodox/Uncommon
Weaknesses:
• Hard to store
• Exposed hilt
• Dangerous to user
• Often requires both hands to wield
In general, staffs are best for characters who are older with more than a couple years of training under their belt due to how hard it is to master and the dangers of inexperience. These characters tend to be heavily combat focused since the staff was pretty much made for killing. However, this is just a general breakdown I did for fun, so don’t let that stop you from giving your characters whatever weapons you see fit :)
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sparring partner - adam du mortain x f!detective (twc)
author’s note: thank you for the request, @crackerdumortain and @kelseaaa for the brainstorm!! sorry this took foreverrrr. also, this was supposed to be mostly smut but as always, i got carried away with the leadup. this is my first time writing smut for these two so…forgive any weirdness. hope you all enjoy!
copyright: all characters, except my oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames.
series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (regina bishop)
rating/warnings: 18+; explicit smut; ns*w noted between the 🔥⚡ and ❄💧 icons (minors dni)
based on/prompt: nsfw prompts // 9. for sparring to turn into sex
word count: 1.7k
summary: adam and regina spar for a bit before things get hot (deep romance).
sparring partner
regina let out a string of curses and loud grunts as she continued a series of jabs and practiced footwork against one of the punching bags in the training room. even with carefully wrapped hands and protective gloves, she knew she was being a little reckless with her punches, letting her frustration and anger from a week of failed missions and a patronizing mother fuel her movements.
she was so consumed with channeling her emotions into the punching bag that she failed to notice adam slip into the room and wrap his wrists. nor did she notice how his gaze followed her movements, eyeing how her chest heaved against the confines of her sports bra, sweat dripping down her toned stomach and disappearing underneath the band of her very tight workout shorts.
his eyes snapped up when regina let out a loud cry, spinning and landing a kick into the side of the bag, sending it swinging parallel to the ground. even he was impressed, given the weight of the bag and her being human.
“i don’t think the bag is an adequate sparring partner,” he teased, walking over to her.
regina whirled around, the last of her anger leaving her in a breathy laugh. she put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow in a way that was meant to challenge him. “oh? i guess i should see if morgan will spar with me then.”
adam’s smirk turned into an annoyed frown as he peeled off his shirt and widened his stance. he couldn’t help but glance over her body, the sweat glistening on her chest and stomach, the scent of it growing in his nose as she stepped closer to him.
regina knew she hit a sore spot and chuckled quietly to herself before shifting into an offensive stance, tossing her gloves on the floor. she moved first, attempting to land a blow to his stomach, then his side, before aiming for his unprotected chin. a normal opponent – and by normal, she meant human – wouldn’t have been able to dodge all those blows, but of course, adam was able to block and sidestep each of her moves before she could blink.
he stayed mostly on the defensive, catching and releasing her sidekicks and uppercuts before stepping away, matching her blow for block with ease. it could almost be seen as a synchronized dance, if she wasn’t actually trying to land a blow and starting to get frustrated. her fatigue was showing, and it didn’t take long before adam had her in a loose headlock, holding her shoulders firmly against his chest with one arm, while the other pinned her left arm against his side, hand hovering over her stomach.
she tilted her back against his shoulder so she could look at him, lowering her right hand to rest on his. regina pressed his hand against her stomach and nudged it down until adam’s splayed fingers reached the elastic band of her shorts. as she predicted, he froze and loosened his grip on her shoulders. regina tucked her foot between his legs, positioning her knee behind his and curling her foot around his ankle. she yanked her leg forward and swiveled out of his grip, pushing back against his chest.
he still had a hand on her hip as he fell backward, bringing her down with him and holding her against his body so that she’d land on top of him instead of awkwardly on the floor.
“you have improved significantly,” adam noted as he looked up at her, no small amount of pride in his voice and face.
regina couldn’t help but preen a little as she straddled him and sat up. “really?” she asked, letting out a breathy laugh.
“for a human,” he corrected cheekily, his dimples deepening as his smirk grew.
“when will you just admit that i got the best of you?” regina panted, her chest heaving noticeably even through her sports bra. she pinned his arms down and leaned forward so she could look him directly in the eyes.
🔥⚡🔥⚡
adam was all too aware of her chest bumping against his. she was the best of him but he couldn’t quite articulate his thoughts at the sight of her. “i, well—,” he stammered before letting out a low growl and flipping them, pinning her arms above her head and hovering over her.
“you are far too distracting for your own good,” he muttered.
regina’s eyes dropped to his lips and trailed down his muscled, shirtless body.
“i’m distracting? have you seen yourself?” she huffed.
his green eyes glittered with need as he stared at her parted lips, her chest still heaving against his. she pulled herself up despite her arms being pinned down and kissed him, swallowing his groan as he kissed her back with an intensity that quickly filled her core. she squirmed against his grip and wrapped her legs around his back, tugging him toward her.
she ground her hips against his, smirking against his lips as he growled. she let out a whine as he pulled away to kiss her jaw and work his way down her neck. she let out a soft gasp as he sucked at the sensitive center of her collarbone before continuing south.
he groaned at the feel of her bare skin against his. the smell of her sweat mixing with her already enticing scent sent his hypersenses into overdrive, filling his lungs to capacity until she consumed him from the inside out. all he could breathe was her.
“this is in the way,” adam growled, tugging at the material of her bra and ripping it quickly down the middle before his lips descended on her nipples.
“oh,” she breathed, her body jolting in surprise at the sudden feel of cold air against her hot skin before she smirked. “impatient, are we?”
adam slowed his movements for a second to gaze at her with a tenderness that made her forget where they were. “yes. i could live for another thousand years and never have enough of you.”
regina didn’t think she’d ever get used to the way he looked at her as though she was his reason for existing.
but the moment to dwell on it passed as adam made quick work of the rest of their clothing before leaning back over her to resume his ministrations down her trembling body.
he sat up on his knees and pulled her into his lap, waiting until her ankles hooked around his back and her arms went around his neck before capturing her lips hungrily. he kissed her again and again, stealing each breath from her until regina thought her lungs were going to burst.
adam stood, and before regina could even register the movement, he slammed her against the wall without breaking their kiss, cradling her head with one arm to soften the blow.
she wrapped her arms tightly around him, feeling safe and secure between him and the wall. adam moved his hips against hers, rubbing against her core and groaning at how wet she was. regina broke off their kiss and nipped at his ear, tugging it gently between her teeth.
“i need you,” she murmured, the feel of his hard cock against her but not in her wasn’t enough.
“you have me,” he muttered back, so softly that she almost missed it.
adam positioned himself at her core and slowly pushed himself in, giving her time adjust to the angle as he lowered his arms to her thighs. regina quickly squeezed her legs and locked her ankles behind him, her heels digging into his ass and pulling him forward.
he moved slowly at first, drawing himself almost all the way out before thrusting back in. it didn’t take long before he picked up speed, letting out a soft groan with every deep thrust, her walls squeezing against him in perfect sync.
“you’re not going to hurt me,” regina gasped quietly, one hand clutching the back of his head while the other scratched at his back.
that was always what held him back from being as rough as they both liked sometimes, the fear that he’d unintentionally hurt her. but she didn’t need to encourage him this time, regina’s sweat and natural smell completely overpowered his senses until he was deeply entrenched in her.
he began thrusting harder and faster, her slick walls squeezing tighter as she mouthed at his neck in an attempt to muffle her moans. he could feel her muscles begin to tense against him as she dragged her fingernails up his back. he lowered his head to her shoulder and bit gently, not enough to break skin, but to let her know he was there, and that he was close.
she lifted her head and kissed him hard as the pressure building in her stomach released, mumbling words of love into his mouth as she came. he could feel her walls clench around his cock and with a few more, hard thrusts, he followed her over the edge, whispering his love back to her.
she kissed him softly where his shoulder met his neck before slumping against him, breathing heavily in time with the sound of his rapid heartbeat.
after a few moments, he released his hold on her so she could lower her feet back onto the floor. she took a step and stumbled; her legs still weak from their tryst. adam’s arm tightened against her waist and held her up, the pleased smirk on his face dimpling his skin.
she smiled knowingly at him before grabbing his shirt and pulling it over her head, the large fabric easily reaching her thighs. she grabbed her ripped sports bra and underwear before sauntering back to adam, who had slipped back into his cargo pants.
he looked at her inquiringly, one eyebrow raised as she tucked her clothes into one of his pockets.
“i don’t think you want the rest of the team seeing my underwear, even if they’ll figure out what just happened as soon as they step into the training room,” she said with a laugh.
adam’s cheeks turned pink as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “you do have a point. i should clean up after us,” he said.
regina chuckled and grabbed his hand. “or… you could join me in the shower for round two?”
he smirked and tucked one arm under her knees to pick her up, holding his shirt firmly against her thigh as he raced to the bath.
❄💧❄💧
permatag: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @gloynporslen; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @fhauvilles; @writer-ish;
#the wayhaven chronicles#twc#adam du mortain#adam x detective#twc fic#twc fanfic#twc fanfiction#my writing#my prompt fills#twc prompt fills#adam du mortain x detective regina bishop#adam x regina#my detective#detective regina bishop#nsft#ns*w#minors dni#n*fw#not choices#my twc prompt fills
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Just A Dream Away
Chapter 5/13 read here on ao3!
for @harringrovebigbang
~~~~
Robin gets to the phone first.
Steve was too busy wallowing in his bed to get up and answer, though he figures it might be worth seeing who it is that’s calling. None of the kids call him anymore, but he always considers, even if it’s for just a moment, that it could be an emergency. He’ll know whenever he decides to get up, or if Robin even decides to pick it up.
Its ring echoes shrill and loud in the apartment, the tone making him want to wrap himself in a blanket and never come out, so he slides out of his bed, calling down the stairs in search of a solution to end the noise, “You gonna get that Rob?”
For a moment, he wonders if she’ll even respond. It’s barely been a couple of hours since he made her cry, but she calls back, “Are you expecting a call?”
Relieved to know she at least still tolerates him, Steve answers, “Nope.”
“Then no.” Comes her simple response, and the phone ringing promptly dies out, “Guess it didn’t matter anyways.”
But almost immediately, it starts up again, somehow sounding more sharp than before. Steve tells her just to get it so the ringing will stop, coming down the steps to see for himself who it is calling.
He watches Robin pull the receiver from its base, in the place of a greeting going straight for, “What do you want?”
Steve takes note of the fact that her mood isn’t entirely better yet, though he’s definitely glad she’s taking those feelings out on the telephone and not on him, but, despite her abrasiveness, she still receives no response.
It looks like she’s going to hang up before she hears something, her features closing off as she focuses on whatever comes through the other end, “Hello? I can’t hear you. Who is this?”
There’s a whining static loud enough for even Steve to hear from the other side of the room, getting louder, and then a pop that makes the lights flicker and the phone die out, making Robin shriek and drop it, shaking out her hand.
“Son of a bitch shocked me.” She mumbles, picking up the dead receiver and showing Steve the two burnt ends.
In the moment though, something he’ll perhaps feel bad for another time, Steve isn’t worried about his friend. He isn’t rushing to see what happened and check if she got burnt, he instead just freezes up, filtering through the overwhelming questions filling his head to ask, “Did you hear who it was?”
“No, it just sounded like it was all distorted.”
Her answer is nonchalant, but it makes Steve feel weak and panicky, sitting down at the table as pale as a ghost.
That’s obviously not a normal reaction, and Robin asks, tone more afraid than concerned, which he thinks that’s appropriate for what just happened, “What’s going on Steve?”
Grimly, he explains, “Mrs Byers’ phone did that twice before, blowing up after a call just like that.”
“Okay, well maybe there’s just a storm coming and it’s just a coincidence that happened to her too?” She tries to reason, but Steve already knows, he's felt this dread before. “No, Robs. It happened because Will called her from the Upside Down.”
“But then that means-“ Robin starts, working through the implications, Steve finishing the statement for her, “Someone is trapped over there.”
“Holy shit, but the gate, hasn’t it been closed for a year and a half now?“
“Unless someone else opened it, yeah.”
Stiffly she nods, asking hesitantly, be it because of her questions or the disagreement between them earlier, “Well what do we do?”
A reflection of his lack for anything but pessimistic doomsdaying anymore, Steve worries, “What can we do, Robin? I’ve only ever fought the things that end up in our world, and you’ve never even seen half of the monsters that come from over there. We’re too overpowered here.”
More rational than her friend, Robin suggests, “I think we should get a hold of Eleven. You said she's the one that really understands any of this other dimension stuff. She can help.”
But Steve shakes his head, “Her powers are gone. She might know what to do, but I don’t think she’ll be able to do anything.”
“So you just want to leave whoever it is over there?”
“No, fuck no. That’s not what I mean.”
“Then what should we do?”
“I don’t know..” Steve frowns, thinking hard before he answers determinedly, “But whoever it is, they reached out to us. We have to help them.”
~~~~
The phone doesn’t work.
What is Billy supposed to do? He’s tried everything, and with his last resort at reaching out a dud, he’s not sure what else he even can do.
So, in true Billy Hargrove fashion, he lashes out, cursing and unnecessarily yanking the phone jack out of the wall, the plastic handheld skidding across the kitchen tile into the corner, “Goddamnit!”
The noise may have been a mistake though, because, despite how sure he was the dogs wouldn’t find this place, he hears a chitter, and the click of claws on hardwood floors. The damn thing is in the house, and his machete is by the door.
A recurring theme with these hell beasts, is that there’s never enough time to run, but unless he wants to use decorative mugs or a cookie jar to fight it, he doesn’t have much of a choice but to try.
He makes two mistakes as he runs, the first being that he hesitates, not wanting to leave Steve. Even if he couldn’t find him he had gotten so damn close, but a snarl from the dog puts things into perspective, and, with a heavy feeling of remorse in his chest, he leaves through the backdoor as quietly as he can, bolting down the rotting back steps.
His second mistake is looking over his shoulder. Just as his boots touch brittle grass, he decides just to glance back and see how much space is between him and the hellhound, but the second he sees it, he just freezes up.
Because it’s fucking big, for one thing. It has to force itself through the door frame, meaning it’s wider than he is. It has a lot more teeth than the others. It’s skin is pale and it’s limbs much longer. Something tells him the others he’s seen are immature, and this one is close to its final form, whatever that may be. Either way, he’s decidedly not fucking around with that.
The daunting unfamiliarity of this part of Hawkins, intimidating as it is, isn’t Billy’s main concern right now. He just bolts like a coward, hoping against hope that there’ll be anything along his path he won’t have to corner himself to get that can be used as a weapon, basically his only other option for surviving this that this amped up dog will get bored of him fast.
But, and really, he knew this was the case, he just hadn’t wanted to admit he was prey yet, it easily charges him, going up on its back legs to knock him off his balance. It misses at first, so he thankfully doesn’t get pushed to the ground, but his reflexes, especially when blurred by emotion, are no match to a monster of this size, and before he can even process its next move, it clamps its teeth on his arm.
Now, he’s been here for a while. He’s had scratches and cuts and welts from their tails, but he’d always been quick enough, smart enough, prepared enough to not get bit. Which he really wishes was still something he could still attest to, because it fucking hurts. Razor sharp teeth from too many mouths tear into the muscle, a stinging pain all the way from the point of impact in his wrist up to his shoulder.
It’s his fault, all this stuff with Steve was getting to his head, feeling his presence and hearing his voice again for the first time in god knows how long only to be unable to reach him. It was doing things to his judgement.
But this is still bad. Really fucking bad.
As soon as it lets go, he knows it’s going to latch onto him again, so he does what he does best in a situation where he’s hurt and scared and alone. He cries, for one thing, but he also fights. But where he’d normally just use his fists and his ego to prove his strength, this world is built differently. Even with a pocket knife to stand up for himself that’s not enough to survive, but he’s still going to make it count. If at the end of this he goes down, it won’t be without a fight.
A fight to just get back to the way things were. To prove to himself he could do this and survive. For once in his fucking life, just to overcome hardship and move the hell forward, no cycles of hatred and pain, love and respect drawing him back. Nobody else in control of his body. Nobody else holding him back from being happy.
He just wants to survive this.
There’s blood on his jacket sleeve, but Billy refuses to look at how bad the wound truly is yet. There quite frankly isn’t enough oxygen down here to afford a panic, but from the pain and the blood alone, he knows it’s not going to be good for him.
The fighting isn’t going too well either, with only one arm not weighed down by injury and a knife the size of his palm his last standing lines of defense, it’s mostly him dodging the creature and flailing his limbs to either stop an incoming bite or confuse it, both of them too confident in its ability to tear him to shreds to advance further than that.
But it gets bored of fucking around with him, and it rises to its back legs again, and Billy knows he’s fucked, squeezing his eyes shut and blocking his face, but the attack never comes. There’s a huge crack of lightning in the ever looming storm above, and a chorus of eerie chittering from more dogs at varying degrees of closeness to where they are, and it draws the attention of the big one away.
While the monster is distracted, he uses that opportunity to his advantage, takes charge of his circumstances to give himself a fighting chance. That strategy never worked for him before, only ever got him into deeper shit, but he can’t exactly just stand here and be monster bait either so, though it breaks his heart to put that distance between him and Steve, Billy chooses to run.
#harringrove big bang 2021#harringrove#steve x billy#billy hargrove#steve harrington#ej writer#story by ej!#tw injury#more tags on ao3#shortest chapter by far#just filler but the one coming tomorrow is big!
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The Goddess
Prompt: Nightmares
TMNT verse: 2012
Characters: April, Za-Naron, Donatello (memory), Casey, Leo, Raph, and Mikey (all mentioned/memory)
Relationships: Ambiguous Apriltello, can be taken romantically or platonically
AO3 Link: Here
Summary: April finds herself trapped in a web of memories and regret, held hostage by the voice in her head that she hoped she'd never have to hear from again. It wants her back.
Other Notes:
Thank you to my good friend @renawaywithme for beta reading this! Go check out her fics btw they're amazing!
_________________________________
"You miss me, don't you?"
The Voice drifted through April's head as gentle as the wind. Cool to the touch and pleasantly inviting, She smiled, letting it wash over her as she stared out into the night sky. The city was calm this time of night. Quiet compared to its usual state, yet alive in all the ways that mattered.
And April was safe. Safe, here on this rooftop alone with her thoughts and the Voice. Only she could hear it and she quite liked it that way—but it had asked her a question. As much as she would love to simply stand there and listen to it forever, she needed to answer.
"Do you miss me?" It asked again.
April frowned ever so slightly. That was a difficult question now, wasn't it? Did she miss it? She wasn't really sure who the Voice was anyway, so how was she to know if she missed it? Its tone was as familiar as the back of her hand, yet also as foreign as could be... but April knew she knew who the voice was—somewhere, somehow, she had met them. The memories of trust and courage were too strong for her not to have.
The memories of sheer power were too strong.
"Of course you miss me," said the Voice, reading her thoughts (or maybe the Voice and her thoughts were one and the same). "I wouldn't be here if you didn't. One can only be in your mind if you invite them in, after all."
"I do miss you," April said quietly, staring out into the distance, wondering if that was a lie. She missed the feeling of power and strength associated with the voice; at least she knew that much.
"You miss what we did together," The Voice continued, a fierce grin weaving itself through its words. April looked down, feeling the tingle of power sparking through her fingertips, growing stronger with each word the Voice said. "You miss what could have been. Me and you, we're powerful together, April. Why would you ever try to stop it? We could have changed the world for the better if you only let it happen."
April wondered the same thing. Why would her past self, however long ago that was, ever try to stop her bond with the Voice? Her mind was too hazy to remember her reasons, but she doubted they made sense—who would give this wonderful, beautiful, powerful feeling up for anything? Shooting up her spine and consuming her entire being, the hum of energy grew stronger and stronger with each passing second. There was nothing that April O'Neil couldn't do without the Voice at her side. She blinked once, smiling to herself as she relished in the beauty of being alive, of being strong.
Her feet left the ground below as she steadily began to rise into the air.
"That's it," The Voice chuckled, "You know you miss how powerful we were together. With my knowledge and your abilities, we could have ruled this entire, wretched world and cleansed it of all its pain. Just us two, together. With my help, you could have saved this world, April. You could have been a savior."
She was far above the rooftops now, looking down with a frown upon her face. Cleanse the world? That sounded familiar and sent another pulse of power through her, but it also set off a few alarm bells. Even so, they couldn't overpower the joyous pride that crept onto her lips as she began to smile, staring at the stars surrounding her.
This was where she belonged, among the stars.
The thought wasn't hers, but the Voice hadn't said it either. Perhaps it was a memory, one that the Voice had told her long ago. But that just deepened April's confusion...
Why couldn't she remember who the Voice was?
A scream sounded in the distance. April snapped her gaze to the right, staring out across the horizon, over to where the Channel 6 building was. Tall and brightly lit, it was a beacon in the darkness of the night, a symbol of knowledge and a home of so many memories—so many battles had taken place there. But even though it was the tower that caught her attention, it wasn't what held it.
No. What kept her attention was the distant, glowing blue silhouette of herself, floating high in the air above it. The brilliant, fiery haze of her hair blew up and around in the wind, a stark contrast from her glowing white eyes and power pulsing from her like ripples in a pond. She was a terrifying god in a sea of sin, ready to wreak vengeance on any and all who dare oppose her.
Starting with the turtle she was lifting into the air, begging her to break free.
April froze.
"April? Focus," the Voice ordered, trying to tear her away from the vision. But the memory was strong and kept April watching, the past finally coming back to her in waves.
The aeons.
The crystal.
Splinter. Donnie.
The Voice.
"No!" April tore her gaze away and gasped, finally realizing who the Voice was. She pushed past Donnie’s cries and pleas from her mind, blocking them out to try to focus on the present. "I killed you! You're dead, why are you still here?"
Za-Naron laughed. "Did you really think you could get rid of me that easily, O'Neil? I was inside your head for months, I embedded myself into your mind. I'm a part of you now, April, you can't rid yourself of me."
"No, that can't be." April shook her head, feeling the panic begin to take over. She beat her months ago—she used her tanto and struck the aeon, killing her and finally defeating her, so how was she back?
A dream. This had to be a dream.
"Of course it's a dream," Za-Naron said, reading her mind. "But that doesn't make it any less real. I'm still here, waking or asleep, and still have the same amount of control over your conscious. It's just a little clearer here."
A dream? More like a nightmare.
"This isn't you!"
A distance plea sent a shiver down her spine, and April's eyes widened when she saw it. Donnie, hand outstretched towards her past self, fear and terror and courage in his eyes. And so much trust in her, even as she threatened his life. He trusted in her strength.
"You can do it, I know you can!"
And April watched her past self struggle, eyes showing every moment of change, fighting back against the crystal... only for her to whisper her broken apology.
She surrendered the fight.
"April! Please!" In the present, April squeezed her eyes shut, unable to watch as her past self let Za-Naron win, let her turn her into a monster, into a murderer. She couldn't watch.
Somewhere, Za-Naron grinned.
"I killed you once," April whispered once more, fists clenched and closed eyes brimming with tears. "And I- I can do it again. Show yourself!"
"Didn't you hear me, girl?" Za-Naron demanded, "You may have killed my physical form and conscious self, but there will always be a part of me still inside you, inside your head. Our souls are intertwined too tightly to ever unravel... You and I, April O'Neil, are one and the same."
"I am not you!" April cried out as the brothers screamed in the distance, watching as past April destroyed one of their own. She turned her back on the memory, floating over to a nearby rooftop to plant her feet on solid ground. "I was never you, and I never wanted to do what you did. You forced me!"
April pulled out her tessen, holding it up defensively and turning around, searching for where Za-Naron had to be hiding. She prayed there was still a physical form she could fight.
"Forced you? I hardly think that. You chose to keep the crystal, even when your so-called 'family' warned you otherwise. You chose to take it back when the turtle and rat stole it away from you, and you chose to listen to me."
"I chose nothing," April hissed, "I didn't know. I never wanted any of this!"
Casey screamed out her name as her past self ran away, flying past her and landing on a rooftop several blocks away. There, the memory collapsed and sobbed, staring at her own broken reflection in a muddy puddle.
"You never wanted any of this?" With only her voice, Za-Naron grinned, poisonous humor lacing itself through every word. April froze when she felt a hand, light as snow yet as heavy as the entire ocean, gently gripped her shoulder. She couldn't move, even when the being leaned forward to whisper into her ear.
"Then why did you admit you missed me?"
April screamed, jumping back and slicing her tessen through the air behind her, only just missing Za-Naron when she moved out of the way. The aeon laughed, cruel and relentless. April clenched her jaw tightly.
"I didn't know it was you!" She screamed. Za-Naron hummed in thought.
"But you didn't really need to know who I was, did you? You admitted you missed the power my crystal gave you—the power I gave to you. You could have been a goddess, April. You and I would punish the evildoers of this world and we could have made it better. You would have been perfect, but look at you now. You're a mess."
Blinking through tears with her teeth barred, April shook her head.
"I wasn't a goddess. I was a murderer."
"A murderer?"
"I killed my best friend!" Now past-Raphael's scream was ringing throughout the city, as her past self tried to do to him what she had done to Donnie. April shook her head. "I killed him and I tried to kill his family—my family! You call that perfect? I killed Donnie!"
"The mutant?" Za-Naron scoffed. "He was interrupting our plans. He was nothing but a hindrance, and he had to go or else we would not have succeeded. you did the right thing there, April. Your only flaw was ever undoing it."
A flash of lightning snapped across the sky as the alternate future ran through her mind. What if she hadn't been able to save Donnie? What if was lost forever, and she had to live with the regret all her life? What if it was impossible to resurrect the dead?
Or worse... what if she had simply chosen not to?
"I did the right thing?" She asked softly, clutching her tessen tighter, feeling the sparks erupt from her fingertips send a shiver down her spine. She closed her eyes.
"Of course you did the right thing," Za-Naron replied, taking a step forward. "Difficult decisions have to be made for the good in the long run, April. I may not be here in the same way I once was, and you may not have the crystal anymore, but you're still powerful. It's not too late."
April took a deep breath in.
Across the city, her past self clutched her head, fingers digging into her scalp as the memories threatened to overwhelm her. Memories of Donnie, both good and bad, flooded her mind. They started on that fateful night, when Donnie and his brothers stepped in to save her, a stranger, out of the goodness of their hearts. They'd only grown closer since that day, stumbling over rocky roads and troubling betrayals... yet they always ended up closer than they had started. There was no one on Earth that April O'Neil trusted more than Donatello.
April remembered his smile, his awkward invitations, his bravery, his mistakes...
And his death by her hand.
Across the city, her team surrounded her past self, and that April fell to her knees, screaming in agony. She ripped the crystal from her neck.
And in the present, when April finally opened her eyes to Za-Naron's gaze, they were purely white. She dropped her tessen to the ground and raised her hand.
"You're right. I am still powerful," She whispered, eyes glowing," And that's why you can never control me again."
Both April's screamed out a war cry. In the present, April ran and lunged at the aeon with all she had. A burst of electricity and power enveloped her body and then blasted towards Za-Naron, who held up her hands in defense and desperately tried to create and hold her glowing shield of energy.
But the shield she made shattered the same moment the crystal in the memory did.
"No!"
April glowed brighter and flew into the sky, looking downwards on the screaming aeon. April relished in the pain of the memories, her regret and shame no longer weighing down; they only empowered her. She channeled the guilt into the need for justice and vengeance, as her power grew brighter and brighter. The stars in the sky were nothing to her.
The aeon gasped and slumped to the ground.
April slowly lowered her hand, but stayed where she was, floating in the sky. She looked down upon the battered and bruised being, eyes narrowed with judgment, still glowing with power, looking every bit of the goddess she was told she could be.
"It's evil like you that needs to be punished," April hissed out, "You're nothing but pain and suffering. If I have to kill you a hundred times over every single night for the rest of my life to keep you from escaping and infecting this world, then I'll do it. I swear I'll do it."
Za-Naron opened her eyes slowly, staring up at April with an awestruck look, and April shook her head.
"That's how I can save this world."
She turned, ready to fly off into the night and finally wake up from this nightmare. But just as she started to leave, a quiet chuckle stopped her. She froze.
"You'll cleanse the world of pain by killing those who stand in your way?" Za-Naron asked, a weak grin plastered onto her face. "Then it seems that you may have learned something from me after all."
April stared straight ahead, feet never touching the ground.
"Yeah," She muttered, "I guess I have."
#tmnt#tmnt 2012#tmnt april#april o'neil#tmnt 2012 april#teenage mutant ninja turtles#tmnt za-naron#teenage mutant ninja turtles 2012#tmnt fanfic
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Ruin Teresa Agnes career. Aka: the Teresa analysis. Take all the time you need >:3
Okay I’m saying this right off the bat in case someone who stans this character misses the point above, but well I hate Teresa Agnes’ character in the maze series, both movie and book. However, in my analysis I will try to explain why her character misses the mark both as a villain and as a sympathetic character. So, to analyze her in depth, I’m putting this into parts under the read below. HEADS UP! As of now this analysis will exclude Death Cure Novel review as I have not finished that one, though it will mention one major spoiler I have been informed of from that book that I need to add for the sake of her character; other than that I will be discussing the other three novels before it (yes that is including the prequel Fever code) and the three movies from the series in broad ideas as I am not about to scavenge for quotes like I did in my last long post… well at least not as many.
Part 1: Teresa the master manipulator
No matter which way you look at it, Teresa has a way to bend others to her will, whether we blame WCKD for teaching her so well; or she used it as a means of survival, the idea still stands. Though she is extremely skilled in combat, especially at using spears and knives, Teresa’s biggest skill is her silver tongue, she can lie her way out of anything. Most evident is her betrayal in Scorch when she has such a good poker face that she not only convinces group B that Thomas is the problem they have to eradicate to get WCKD’s good side, but she also doesn’t hesitate to maim Thomas to the point of threatening to kill him: “Get in the room or I’ll hit you again. I swear I’ll keep doing it till you pass out or bleed to death” (Ch. 51). /sarcasm/ Charming ain’t she? /end of sarcasm/ The thing about lying though is that sometimes it backfires, for instance in the case of Group B, Harriet and Sonya hear Thomas out on why they shouldn’t kill him like Teresa asked, and when they listen and observe him they realize that Teresa is the worst and side with him; which in turn makes Teresa have to take drastic measures which involve getting Thomas alone with her to finish her duties to WCKD. Anyways, she even goes as far as to cement her betrayal by kissing Aris and crushing Thomas’ feelings by saying they were never a thing; she does this mind you without so much as breaking this character she builds up even though later she tries to say she still cares for Thomas. She is so convincing that Thomas has stated that: “Thomas had never heard such arrogance from her. She was either a really good actress or had started going crazy. Gained a split personality or two” (Ch. 45, Scorch). So yes, Teresa is too good at lying to the point I can say she can align as a Pathological Liar because she’s deceptive, goal-oriented in order to get HER way meaning she will not tolerate anyone interfering with her methods, she disregards the feelings of everyone around her, and she is constantly tweaking her excuses to adjust to the situations at hand. She is so good at lying she oozes self confidence when elaborating her defense by staring directly at the person she is talking to, unblinking, and will lash out in defense if someone calls her out on any inconsistencies.
Mind you this isn’t the first instance we get at how well she turns the story to her favor. In Fever Code, she is the one to help put the Gladers in the maze and erase Thomas’ memories, which transfers in Maze Runner with how she openly gaslights everyone by pretending she doesn’t remember much about WCKD’s doings even though her memories are the only ones implied to be in tact based on that email she wrote in Fever Code: “I’ve just said my goodbye to Thomas, and he’s now in the Glade, safe and sound. Tomorrow, it will be my turn. Dr. Paige has asked me to send a final note to everyone, sharing my thoughts. I’m more than happy to do so. I feel good about the plan to leave my and Aris’s memories intact. You need someone in each group with whom you can communicate and plan during the phases of the Trials”(FC epilogue) and also based on this specific tid bit in Maze Runner where she slips she knows more than she lets on: “Though I guess a Griever can’t squeeze through this window, so I’ll be happy, right?” The mention of Grievers surprised him -- he didn’t remember talking about them to her yet. ‘Teresa are you sure you’ve forgotten everything?”(Ch.37, pg.246). Griever knowledge in general for Teresa in Maze seems to be code talk for “I am here to cause trouble, I kept my memories'' because during the sequence with the fiasco with the invasion of the species in Group A’s field, Teresa casually wakes up after the event’s commotion subsides earning Newt’s suspicion that maybe the map fire was not done on accident. Anyways, in keeping things down low and having an advantage in memory recollection, she ensures Thomas and co. don’t recall events correctly unless it's vital to her mission. And yes, Teresa will use violence and anger if necessary; she is perfectly fine with murder...”So we’re just going to kill them all? [...] They’ll die anyway [...] No, Tom, It’s be tough now or everyone dies later”(Ch. 47, Fever Code). Or even this small aside on her stance on death overall: “This is kind of fun,’ Teresa whispered to Thomas. ‘Walking along with my new friend.’ He looked at her in bemused disbelief. ‘Really? You drop that bombshell about kids dying and now you act like it’s no big deal? You’re so weird.’ He tried to make a joke out of it to hide just how horrified he’s been by her second question” (Ch. 9, pg. 55, FC). And she has killed, mind you, yes they were cranks, but they are still humanly conscious. Thomas in comparison shows pity about the fact that they were still human, Teresa didn’t bat an eye. And now, you might say “Hey Popuri, you know, she’s just willing to kill if it means saving everyone else right?” to which I go, sure she’s stated that if it means saving the rest it doesn’t matter if thousands or so die. However, she is also clear that she only cares about Thomas’ survival in specific, no one else; which immediately gets falsified by her “lie” in Scorch, thus she will kill anyone if need be no matter how close they are. What I’m saying is that not even Teresa has a clear path in why she manipulates everyone when she can so easily be convinced to make elaborate murder scenarios at the snap of WCKD’s fingers. She claims it's to save her “crush” but will not hesitate to shed his blood and drag him across the desert.
She claims it's to help WCKD, that WCKD is good, but she has bore witness time and time again that the facility makes countless errors and knows there's no REAL cure available … and Teresa is a smart kid, so why continue believing a hopeless façade? Because she's desperate to cling to some hope? No. Teresa doesn’t do the whole hope thing, she's convinced WCKD is good period, there's nothing else. So, even if there is no evidence anymore she will fight tooth and nail for something she herself is trapped in because no one will want to be there for the girl who treated her only connections as poorly as WCKD treated her. Therefore, is it because she can’t help it then? I can only imagine that's the case. She’s willingly this puppet for WCKD, she could’ve escaped them any time she liked like Thomas and co. did, but she prefers to stay on the burning train even if it means her own demise because she refuses to admit any of her actions were wrong, the truth will NOT set her free because she cannot confront it.
Moving forward, I wanna delve more into the whole telepathy dealio she specifically shares with Thomas and we actually never really learn if she can talk to others as she evades the question when it does arrive in book. The only certain thing is that if you have a chip, you can talk using your mind. Now this would be a fine plot device, but in the hands of someone who wants to control your every move and thought, well....”Thomas, this is Teresa. He was going crazy. He was actually going crazy. It was the oldest and most common symptom -- hearing voices in your head. ‘Uh...’, he said aloud. Is this working? Is this working? The last words landed between his eyes like a thunderbolt. The pain knocked his legs out from under him and he collapsed onto the floor. Never had the world felt so fluid beneath him, as if nothing solid existed, no form, no substance“ (Ch.20 , pg. 112, FC). So first things first, Thomas hates it when he gets a mind message, he feels extreme pain when someone tries it, this is recurrent throughout the series. He has told her a few times not to contact him through that method, but it's their little secret and besides, if he told anyone who would believe him? “Teresa shrugged. ‘You didn’t tell anyone, did you? They’d think we’re crazy“(Ch.36, Maze Runner). So we have a situation where Teresa has a huge way of overpowering Thomas, she can send images to his head without his consent and yell into his mind even if it means it hurts him. And the kicker? She doesn’t teach him how to use it on purpose. And when he tries to contact her? Well depending on her mood she can either be flirty or... well this: “Teresa? A pause. Teresa? A longer pause. Teresa! He shouted it mentally, his whole body tensing with effort. Teresa! Where are you? Please answer me! Why aren’t you trying to contact me? Ter- /GET OUT OF MY HEAD!/ The words exploded inside his mind, so vivid and so strangely audible within his skull that he felt lances of pain behind his eyes and in his ears. He sat up in bed, then stood. It was her. It was definitely her. Teresa? He pressed the first two fingers of both hands against his temples. Teresa? /WHOEVER YOU ARE , GET OUT OF MY SHUCK HEAD!/ Thomas stumbled backward until he sat down once again on the bed. His eyes were closed as he concentrated. Teresa, what are you talking about? It’s me. Thomas. Where are you? /SHUT UP!/ It was her, he had no doubt, but her mental voice was full of fear and anger /JUST SHUT UP! I DON’T KNOW WHO YOU ARE! LEAVE ME ALONE!/ But, Thomas began completely at a loss [...] /LEAVE ME ALONE, OR I’LL HUNT YOU DOWN AND CUT YOUR THROAT. I SWEAR IT. “ (Ch.8, FC). *sarcasm* ah yes, nothing says true love like a death threat that actually comes to near fruition later in that same book and pretending to not know that person only to later, upon meeting Thomas acting like a sobbing mess, kiss him and disappear...she sure knew him then huh? *end of sarcasm* Having a power imbalance in a relationship is, you know, not good, especially when you’re making it so you gaslight the person anytime they know something you don’t want them to or to have control over the situation. Teresa does this OFTEN. To the point that it makes Thomas so emotionally attached to her he finds it hard to admit he doesn’t need her, even when he’s been badly hurt.
Part 2: Your past does not excuse your bad actions in the present. Period.
Now let me clear something up, PAST ABUSE does not CONDONE you to HURT OTHERS in turn, let alone allows you to use it as an excuse to justify wrong actions. I am aware Teresa, aka Deedee, was abandoned due to an outbreak of the flare at an early age; had her name changed, was confined to a room with Thomas as her only friend who was the same age as her, and openly manipulated by adults to believe WCKD is good. But you know who else goes through the same treatment? LITERALLY EVERY KID EXPOSED TO THIS EXPERIMENT! AND THEY DON’T THREATEN EACH OTHER IF THEY DON’T GET THEIR WAY OR KILL EACH OTHER. And this is not said in order to justify that everyone with the same experiences will have the same reactions, I understand stressors and trauma affect everyone differently and acknowledge everyone needs a different support system. But like, for peeps sake, Thomas who is Teresa’s exact foil as a narrative play to show that they are more alike than they realize which is the flimsiest proof to grab at as to why they need each other to an extent; literally has the exact same story cut and paste from her and he has more empathy and compassion to those around him, than Teresa ever shows. WHY? If the idea is to show Teresa has hardened from her own experiences, she should in theory act more like Brenda, a renegade civilian that isn’t soft for anyone except the boy who will save her. I know in my explanation I compare Thomas and Teresa a lot, but it's hard not to when Teresa, though having Aris as another buddy who is also in on the whole WCKD scheme, still decides to CLING to Thomas to be her saving grace. And the thing is, even if she only ever trusted Thomas in this whole experiment, then why not confide in him or tell him what is happening? She doesn’t LISTEN to anything he says to her in turn. YES, Teresa knows more about the situation as a whole, YES she is capable of doing things by herself, but she never trusts anyone. You’d think she would be more open to talking to the kids her age or be the quiet type because she knows what will happen to them all if they don’t comply; but no, I can’t even describe her personality other than stoic one moment and complete chaos in the next, and she does that switch VERY often. But sure, she prefers to skew half truths and put everyone in danger because ….WCKD? She’s supposed to be the intellectual one and she doesn’t know how to spread her capabilities, no wonder Brenda is introduced in the second book.
It's also incomprehensible to me why she feels it necessary to follow WCKD in general when she was the first to know of all their evil doings? “They were at the door when Teresa stopped and asked Dr. Leavitt a question. Two, actually. And it was enough to change the man’s demeanor completely. ‘What’s a swipe trigger? And is it true that seven kids died during the implant surgeries?’ The questions stunned Thomas. He turned to look at Teresa as the doctor fumbled for an answer. ‘How...’ the man began, then stopped, realizing at the same moment what Thomas did: Teresa had stumbled on something major. Something true”(Ch. 9, pg.54, FC). You’d think she would have the maturity to one up WCKD and knock them from the inside out to save the one she “loves'' but she doesn’t, instead she abides by the facility...even when knowing they are the ones who made the Flare in the first place. Call me naïve, but wouldn’t it make sense that if she wants to help stop the Flare than it would be in her best interest to hold Ava at an inch of her life (and Ratman) until she fesses up how to reverse the Flare, only to then realize oops there never was a possibility for a cure ~, but in knowing this finally be rid of the one thing holding her back? Again, someone can argue that hey, she thinks the people who made it HAVE to eventually find the termination and either way what possible choice does she have when her own manipulators control her? But remember, in the end it's always been a huge experiment to eliminate the human populace, and that's motive enough to rebel and/or snap at the hand that feeds when it's gone too far. EVERYONE has a breaking point mentally and physically, THOMAS BREAKS DOWN SEVERAL TIMES IN THE SPAN OF THE SERIES BECAUSE HE CAN’T MAKE SENSE OF THE EXPERIMENTS AND THE REASON TO CONTINUE SURVIVING ONLY ON WCKDS TERMS. And it drives me insane that Teresa would openly keep the Gladers from knowing about their procedures when she has known the longest from everyone else! Oh? You want evidence that Teresa keeps her memories intact and lies about ever losing them, sure! Here, have a morsel: “Teresa..., he started to say, but then stumbled a void. He had no idea how to respond. Did you....did you already know this stuff? /I’ve heard rumors./ And you never told me? He was stunned. How could she have known this and never said anything? She was his best friend. The first person he went to with everything. /I just don’t see the point. Yes, we have reason to hate these people. But how is dwelling on the past going to help anybody? The solution is what matters./ Thomas had never been so blindsided in his life.../I’m really tired, Tom. Can we talk about it tomorrow?/ She was gone from his mind before he could respond [...] The next day Teresa refused to talk about it, emphasizing that she’d rather focus on the future than the past Dr. Paige also blew it off, saying that those decisions had been made well before her time. it was almost like they were both determined to forget” (Ch. 43, pg. 239, FC). TALK ABOUT BECOMING THE ONE THING THAT YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO OVERCOME. Like goodness sake, Teresa was part of the prep and launch of putting each Glader into the Maze and she never doubted it, never fussed over how this was bad. The excuse of “this is for their own good, my own good, and the world’s” can only go so far when you are in an environment that is full of violence and trauma, you expect me to not believe Teresa just never broke down and truly analyzed how she can use her lies to one up her own abusers? She’s supposed to be this “empowering” female character and she can’t even get THAT right.
Part 3: How come the films did it better?
The film actually humanizes her a lot more and makes her motives at least justifiable in a fit of protecting the one you love. I know a lot of people dislike her character in the movies because it's more frail and sympathetic, but it was a very good way to justify her motives and plan out her actions from point A to point B. What do I mean by that? Let's take a look. Film Teresa enters the Maze without the ability to communicate to Thomas through telepathy, she still has her memories and she is still in close contact with WCKD, that much is still the same. Her motive though is to get everyone out of the maze and into stage 2 where the facility can round up the ones who have been viewed to be immune through the Maze Trials. So far so good, but pretty on par with the book right? Well, here is where it differs for the best. On the last act of Scorch, Teresa tells Thomas WITH SENTIMENT, no more lies and no more hiding that she contacted WCKD because it was needed to keep Thomas alive and well. WOW, notice how she doesn’t emotionally manipulate him and her innocent nature of trusting the scientists of her world to cure everyone actually leads her to be more sympathetic and relatable to the audience? In Death Cure, she doesn’t expect Thomas or ANYONE to forgive her for her actions and in fact takes her actions at face value. This Teresa is more understanding of the phrase “You can change, but those you’ve wronged have no obligation to forgive you” than book Teresa ever will. To the point that when she finds Thomas in the city and has bore witness to the startling realization that there indeed could be no cure cause her patient flares back up; of which is intentionally a little girl to reflect without showing that she can relate to the Flare stripping away her childhood, she then betrays WCKD by allowing the Gladers to infiltrate the facility, thus redeeming her when she dies in the explosion. Thus, making her in the film's eyes an anti-hero. As Skquill once told me, “Film teresa really did want to create a better future, and wanted to help people and that's what I like about film teresa. It didn't work. It literally blew up in her face. But, she tried, and she saved Thomas in the end.”
The only reason I don’t like Teresa even in the film is because she is kind of a wet blanket there, barely expresses any emotion beyond stoic token girl that cries sometimes, and she could’ve saved herself the whole betrayal arc if she just learned to better communicate her intentions instead of sobbing pathetically every time no one wants anything to do with her for her ill doings.Not to mention she still maintains her personality to a degree from the book (just call her diet Teresa really) because once both enter the sequence in Scorch where they ran out of pawns to move around they claim that they did what they had to do and they wouldn’t change a thing, they’d do it again if they could. It is only when both are at death’s door with no other choice that they give in some noble sacrifice at a chance for redemption, which is well too little too late. And in the opposing corner of knowing some people blame Thomas for not just allowing himself to be experimented on since the beginning, my rebuttal to be fair is that Teresa just again, sucked at explaining herself and the intentions of WCKD until it was deserving of a literal showdown bloodbath that evidently Tommy boy had to take defense to and threaten his life if anyone else died due to miscommunications. ALSO, IT'S HIS OWN BODY, HE CAN DO WHAT HE WANTS WITH IT INSTEAD OF HAVING OTHERS DICTATE WHAT HE NEEDS TO DO.
BUT ANYWAYS, book Teresa in comparison has even less characterization, I am sorry to say. SHE'S BARELY IN SCORCH AS IS, only coming out toward the climax because before that she is crying and kissing Thomas before going MIA for 45 chapters. Ouch. And when she does appear? She purposefully causes trouble that leads to essentially no where, we could’ve gotten to the safe haven way sooner without her interference.
Part 4: Is Book Teresa a good female character?
The simple answer? No.
The slightly longer answer? Even if I were to place her as the villain of the story she’s...not that good? Mostly because again, she acts as a puppet for a rich, governmental organization that basically implants how she should think and act. YET, somehow she is still smart, brave, lethal, and *ahem* UNBELIEVABLY BEAUTIFUL WITH HER LONG HAIR THAT IS BASICALLY DESCRIBED THE EXACT SAME WAY AS BRENDA’S, WHO FYI IS THE SLIGHTLY BETTER FEMALE LEAD THAT STILL CAN’T HOLD A COIN TO SONYA OR HARRIET (the background characters) THOUGH. I also need to say plainly, she has no gradual growth, she remains by her ideals and thinks she's right constantly in all but one book...which is one book too late and thus made meaningless. By no means is Teresa a mary sue, yet she still manages to be a stereotype in Maze Runner: “If you’re going to decipher a hidden code from a complex set of different mazes, I’m pretty sure you’ll need a girl’s brain running the show”(ch.43); then again going most of the book in Scorch missing, and then unceremoniously gets crushed by a boulder in Death Cure as her final hurrah for all the bs she caused isn’t really a means to become a memorable character. This is the female supportive character I’m supposed to relate to and or praise for her dastardly, cunning intellect? If I were looking for a strong female with various flaws and a tragic end I would saunter over to Hunger Games’ Katniss instead. Teresa fails as a character the moment that her sole purpose is to be so emotionally/physically attached to Thomas that her whole character gets washed down the gutter so badly that Kill Order had to be made to justify her actions through a tragic backstory. In no way or form was I able to entertain this character as a favorite because she is everything I don’t want to be or befriend, and even as again, a “villain” she doesn’t exactly do much as the real masterminds are Ava and her cronies who MADE the disease and the trials. Even going as far as calling her an anti-hero feels off because none of her actions deliberately affect the plot or progress of our main character’s story. But that's kind of the thing with D*shner’s characterization of females overall? They’re either brutish or simply there. I don’t think any of them even pass the Bechdel Test.
Final thoughts:
I don’t like Teresa, I would personally fight her in a Denny’s parking lot at 3am if I could. I recall saying multiple times how she should just “shut up” as I read Maze and Scorch because most of her quotes are not memorable nor important. But in no way do I blame the character for the angst and tragedy of the novels overall. D*shner just...doesn’t seem to know how to make honest character growth and a decent plot, thus, in turn the story and its leads suffer tremendously as the narrative gets stretched out. (me yelling in the distance about how Crank Palace was made for clout). HOWEVER, In no way should my analysis stop people from finding Teresa as interesting or “cool”, I actually ENCOURAGE anyone that stans her to explain why to me because I personally don’t understand why beyond thinking “I just think she's chaotically evil and her treachery is fun to witness”. COOL IF THAT'S THE REASON OR EVEN IF YOU RE-WROTE HER TO BE BETTER! I just personally don't find her presence necessary for plot progression or as a love interest in general. It in fact sucks that she gets essentially replaced by Brenda almost as soon as the opportunity arises. In turn though, for others who don’t like her either as much as me, feel free to add onto this post any other “Teresa sucks and here's why” moments as I know there's a lot of moments out there to quote or paraphrase. Thanks for reading~
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