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willshipanything-blog · 2 years

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Rules of the Game- Chapter 16

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Chapter 16- Cold Shoulder

Being left alone with your thoughts only intensified the agony of what had happened. You had nothing but questions, and had none of the answers. Every question you had was a hydra: once asked, two more appeared in its place. You soon found yourself drowning in a quagmire of unanswerable, impossible things. Trying to clear your mind with sleep didn’t help; your blurred dreamstate only conjured up horrific images of that creature lurking above.

It took a whole day for him to descend back into the basement to see you. Was it a punishment for your outburst, adding to your physical wounds by inflicting mental ones, leaving you alone with your thoughts, and without food or water? Or was he hurt by your inflamed outburst, your confession that you thought there was something good between you both? Had he simply avoided you to save you both the anguish of confronting whatever relationship had ever been built (and now broken) between you?

You thought he had been pained by your tearful outpouring and had regretted his actions. He had ceased his attack, after all. But you had to stop giving this man the benefit of the doubt- he was, he is The Grabber. Can the things he’d done be forgotten, the slate wiped clean? Determining the right answer seemed impossible and you were becoming hopelessly tangled in your thoughts, lost in a cerebral maze with no exit. You didn’t know; maybe he didn’t either. Unlike your old games, which ended in pleasure and reward, this had no winners.

As the metal door finally opened, you looked up from your position. You sat, guarded as best you could: back to the wall; your knees bent to your chest and hidden by the blanket; arms crossed defensively. He stood in the light of the doorway, dressed in his usual black attire and donning the full blank mask. He looked hesitant to cross the threshold, as if this was your domain, not a cage he had put you in. Still wavering by the door, he spoke quietly into the silence between you.

“How are you feeling today, Y/N?” His voice was as close to sympathetic as you’d ever heard.

You had no words to even begin to answer that question. Not that it mattered: in that moment, hearing his voice, you had made a decision. You were going to numb yourself, dissociate from him completely. It was similar to how you’d forgotten The Grabber and embraced Al. But this time, you would block absolutely everything out. There would be no feeling at all, no emotions either good or bad. Just emptiness. It would be difficult not to recoil at him, or else lean into his affections (both would be easy, and both equally as dangerous), but you had to persist. You wondered how he would react to this strategy, if he'd be hurt or upset, before a realization came: you shouldn't care about his feelings. He doesn't deserve your sympathies.

Despite the lack of response from you, he entered the basement, turning first to collect the plastic tray from the stairwell. He walked towards you, slowly. As if you were the one who might fly into a violent rage. Which, you supposed you had done yesterday. Perhaps he was wearing the full mask to hide the scars you’d inflicted to his face in your desperate attack. You weren’t a violent person, you reminded yourself, you didn’t have those urges like he did. It was survival instinct is all.

He sat by your side (on the floor, not the mattress, you noted). You remained impassive, gazing straight ahead, your blank stare boring a hole into the wall opposite.

“I brought you some food, I knew you’d be hungry.” Of course I am; you’ve left me for a whole day without any. “And I brought you an ice pack, too. For the swelling.” That you caused when you hit me. These retorts went unspoken, and your glassy eyes never ventured towards him. Understanding you weren’t going to speak to him right now, or acknowledge him at all for that matter, he raised the bag of ice to your stinging cheek. It wouldn’t be as cold as you felt on the inside. A hollow, cavernous space in your body. Still, you hissed at the frosty sensation on your skin.

It was a stark contrast to his old, warm caresses, the habitual, soothing stroke he gave your scarred cheekbone. No, you couldn’t allow yourself to compare them, to remember his warmth. But what if Al forced you to remember the tenderness inside of him? You knew it was buried beneath that savage persona. It wouldn’t take much to exhume that side of him.

He must have read this thought on your worried brow, read a hint on your quivering lips. He removed the ice pack and replaced it with a warm, soft palm. He was there. It was Al. You just had to turn and face him, lean into the touch and look into those deep cerulean eyes…

No. You hissed again, recoiling at his heat instead of the cold. His warm touch- a cruel remembrance of the kindness that you refused to see there anymore- stung more than the ice ever could. Rebuffing his touch, you turned your head away from that animal. It couldn’t be Al; he was dead to you. All his tenderness, his passions, his affections- you’d made a deal with yourself to bury them.

“I’ll, uh, leave you in peace for a little while.” He sounded uneasy. He now held out the ice pack for you to take. With no receiving gesture from you, he placed it beside you with a barely perceptible sigh. It wasn’t frustration, no- you’d learned to read these little mannerisms of his. This was worry.

“You get something to eat and get some rest now my- uh, Y/N.” He stumbled as he rose, catching himself using that word. My. But he’d stopped himself- did he no longer see you as belonging to him? That should have felt freeing, though you found yourself at a loss, unassured of your purpose here. Without guarantee of safety or protection. You noticed he’d only used your given name too- no dove, no little bird, no sweet thing. That would help, wouldn’t it? To distance yourself from his charismatic flatteries. Sweet nothings cooed into your ear would only contribute to your inner turmoil, and you were grateful for their absence.

Having reached the door, he held the handle but turned to look at you one last time. Without meaning to, your steadfast gaze faltered, and you flicked your eyes to his. You felt a hot, silent tear rolling down your bruised cheek, and quickly looked back at the spot on the wall you’d been focusing on. He left wordlessly after another moment of silence enveloped the room.

Hunger pangs rousing in your stomach, you allowed yourself to partake in the food and drink you’d been given. It was the most food Al had given you since he brought you upstairs to eat breakfast. A good memory. One you immediately suppressed. Not Al. Not anymore. You wanted to scorn the gesture, to show your defiance in allowing him to care for you, but the pain in your stomach had become unbearable. You sipped the water, not wanting to chug it all down and immediately throw up. In between sips you wolfed down the sandwich. He’d also given you a bowl of sliced peaches in syrup. It jogged another memory. His little quip- “Peachy keen”- came into your head, spoken in his signature lilting tune. Would any inanimate object trigger these feelings? A book, food, something seen or heard that would force unwanted remembrance on you? If so, you were unsure how long your mind might be able to withstand your icy detachment. You pushed away the memory, along with the bowl. You mustered the energy to walk to the toilet, before putting the tray near the door. If he collected it there, he wouldn’t have to come near you. You shoved away the ice pack to the floor as you lay down. Using it felt like a way of remembering kindnesses, whilst letting the pain simmer at your cheek would help to reinforce how truly cruel he could be. It would help build your apathy towards him. You slipped back under the blanket and tried to melt unsuccessfully into oblivion for the remainder of the day.

Al couldn’t say he didn’t deserve this treatment. In fact, he deserved a lot worse than the cold shoulder she’d given him. He knew he was the one fucking things up, losing his temper too quickly. Too reckless, too eager with his fist and the belt when he was angry. Breaking his promise to look after her, time and time again. He thought he’d moved on from that, sating those appetites only when she asked for it, when they played their delicious, dangerous game. Obviously not.

Y/N couldn’t be blamed for the rift that had formed between them. She hadn’t done anything wrong. No escape attempts, no wrong moves. When she had screamed at him, reciting his sins back to him, proving the broken promise- where was the lie? He didn’t even mind that she had struck him. He’d done worse to her ten times over. Sure, the red scratch marks would draw some attention, especially at work. He’d have to say his kid brother had come to stay, and brought that big fucking dog with him. Easy enough.

Al sat in his armchair, holding the horned masks in his hands. Examining every contour and line of it. His disguise, or his true self? What did the mask even mean any more to Al- and who was really underneath it? The separation between the Grabber and Al had seemed so distinct, but now it was like they were unequivocally entwined, indistinguishable from each other.

This was especially true in her eyes. She had flinched at his touch, had become furled inwards and frosty like a leaf in midwinter. His little dove- though he’d hesitated at using the preferred name for his most precious possession. If he scared her further, he might lose her forever. He would be persistent and restrained in the recovery, and she would see he was trying his best. He exhaled melancholically; he might previously have vowed to make her see these things, but things were different now. He was different, and he would prove it.

He wants her to know he would give her anything. Apart from her freedom, of course.

#the black phone #the grabber x you #albert shaw x you #black phone fanfic #the grabber #the grabber x reader #first fic

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craycraybluejay · 2 months

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why am i so distant from you even right next to you. even feeling your pulse. even with a shared million years. why are we so distant? will i never be let close? i am a stranger even to you. even to me. what do i lack that creates this impenetrable barrier? i don't know what the point in it all is. use and reuse and i found myself thinking it could be different. that there is more than use i could draw from someone, more than use that i can give. that i and other people can be more to each other than our value. it's the biggest shared delusion, huh? that we are not all alone and drifting further still from everything else in the universe. in our loneliness we hope for aliens. we hope for the chemical paradise of *love.* the backstabbing chemical hell. my steady hand has grown shaky, i've gone weak-willed. maybe because im not man enough, not anything enough, i cannot be human. cannot be trusted or kept or loved. because i let it slip, the necessary power dynamic. because i am weak and sentimental and blind to the flaws of the only people that matter. i am not worthy of true love because i don't have the spine to Take It. to do what needs to be done. the opportunity was given to walk away. and i can feel it. not running. not even jogging. just slowly walking away from me, from us. i am not valuable enough to be worth clinging to. not rich, not strong, not successful or normal. it was too late the moment i got the naïve idea in my head that i could be enough. just me, no fireworks, no games. that i alone was worth getting close to. and anyway. even if i was rich and successful and normal. would it matter? i would only have the illusion of fulfillment. a mirage that disappears with a wave of the hand, just like now. sure, i could get closer. but the moment i lose my value or i become human and troublesome it disappears. or i could make the illusion in a different way. a way that feels the most real, though none will ever BE real. i could be cruel and conniving. take what i want without asking, strike before anyone notices i was even there. an invisible writhing serpent with no limbs and a poisonous tongue. i could take it all without asking for mercy, depending on kindness, appealing to some grandiose delusion that humans Love and Trust each other. that i could be anything but a lone wandering storyteller. everyone i don't know will tell me their deepest, most horrific secrets. everyone i do won't even tell me how their day really went. i am nothing to those i love and i am God to those I will never cross paths with a second time. i collect stories but who to share them with? who personally to hand them to and say "this is me"? who am i worthy of? who is worthy of me?

it's always a chilling conclusion to glare in my face while i stubbornly look away and say there is good there is light there is love and closeness. somebody loves me, surely. just because. trusts me and loves me and believes in my full desire to protect and help and support them. the conclusion being that the closest feeling to that is something that feels wrong and poisonous. the only way to full trust is to give someone no other option-- because the further they get the closer they appear. because at the most intimate i am lightyears away from that person that i want to commit to. because even as i am willing to do anything to prove my love and my worth it makes no difference. not bloodshed, not homeliness, not a single wordless or wordful professing of love will be enough. the world is too big, and i am nothing in it to no one. i love, i hate. and in turn the closest thing to true passion, true intimacy i recieve is burning hatred. there are people, some, that really REALLY hate me. and is it fucked up or what that i hope they hate me more, harder? that i can see their ugliness which they show no one. that they trust me with this monstrousness. that they want to HURT me, how much they care-- how intensely they feel. it's beautiful. it's intimate. and then there is That. there is the silver-tongued devil that takes what it wants. it shoots first and asks questions during. it wants to know that you feel just as caught up in the whirlwind as it always is. can you feel it? the cold winds and disgusting walls caving in raising the hair on the back of your neck. can you feel how unalone you are, stuck inside the eye of a storm witu me? i am your company, you are mine-- step outside and You. Will. Die. and it's not my fault that nature is violent. it's not my fault that fires rage and humans kill and steal and rape. my hands are clean. i tell stories, and i hang around. and sometimes i want to tell the story of you and me. and i can't stand for it to be such a boring tragedy of: the creature could not be loved. so everything it's starving black hole pulled in was vomited out. sloooowly, real slow. there were chunks of porridge in it. and thick green bile. and the human brushed itself off and walked away humming a tune. and the creature couldn't breathe with the acid burning its throat. tickling. the creature laughed and it repeated again. like an involuntary bulimia. you collect and you lose, eat and vomit, build and are broken. square one is the place to be this time of year. and every other time, too. progress doesn't exist, it's a house of cards.

but here's a new story to tell yourself until you kill your weakness and silly tailbone of humanity. a useless preevolutionary trait. the creature decides to chew, really chew before it swallows. it decides to take your clothes off so you go down easier. your flesh becomes its flesh when it chews. stringy breaking flesh that cannot do anything but cling to its teeth and tongue desperately. and it hurts but oh, it's intimate. and you won't get up and brush yourself off and walk away in one piece exactly the same as when we started. the creature forces you to feel. something, anything. hate and fear are fine, are easy. but something special, something intimate. if i strapped you down to a table, brushed your hair and then began to lovingly try my collection on you, would you tell me what you think then? all of it? tell me your SICKNESS. tell me your health. tell me the story of You. tell me how much you HATE me. how i'm Hurting you, how Scared you are. scream, cry, ramble every secret you can think of to try to placate me. tell me how sorry you are (for yourself) that you never cared the way i care. how sorry you are that this is happening. it sucks for you. it hurts. it HURTS. and you cannot ignore it, or me, when it hurts-- a gaping gushing wound. an erotic outpouring of feeling. are we close now? hurt, hurt so i can save you. hurt so i can prove to you that i'm useful so i don't for one second have to consider the ugly truth of human relationships. hurt, be betrayed, rejected, wounded, make the biggest mistakes of your life-- let me raise you from hell on my back. let me prove my use, my loyalty. give me a chance that you cannot reject to lay down my life so i can blindly seek a real love i will never get.

if not, god give me the balls to take what i want. give me the silence of mind that allows only for plan, execution, and result. turn me to a weapon that can never be ignored. a weapon that loves in the only way a weapon CAN love. a creature that loses, with enough maddening nothingness, the capacity to understand or care about the idea of something being wrong or unfair. loses the notion that the ends dont in fact always justify the means. loses the idea that collateral damage actually matters. loses enough to break open the shell that cells in the devil. to turn the creature from a half human freak of nature to a shadow, an idea, a machine. anything without the human component it can be. a real, honest to god, narratively compelling monster.

i want. for even a single thing i do to matter in regards to the fate of an 'us.' for anything i do at all to change anything at all. i feel like a ghost. like as long as i remain neutral and afraid of my own darkness-- of the abilities that make me special and can help me get ahead-- nothing i do or say will even interact with the world. like if i traveled back in time no butterfly effect would happen. like if i did something awful i alone would face the consequence but no one in the world would notice not even someone directly affected by it. like that uncanny feeling that if right now in the supermarket i were to push over a whole isle and make them all fall down nothing would happen. the cashier wouldnt blink. not one customer would die or even think much of it. the guy restocking shelves would start restocking them all sideways and diagonal in their new positions. as if nothing happened. like if i stabbed someone they would just keep walking and not even look in my direction. not even scream or cry or yell at me. like if i fucked someone they wouldn't think about it. if i saved someones life it wouldnt matter. i am a ghost. an echo of an echo of a human who died over a decade ago. a skinsuit of its corpse. a concept. i have no existence, and You must scream. even perfect and loyal and useful and all of it i am just not human enough to. to just. to. i dont matter to you, i know. i know no matter what has been i can be replaced, forgotten, ignored. i know how easy it is to lie to me and say i matter. no matter what i do i can be tossed aside like a brand new unwanted gift at christmas. even old and well "loved", even when ive been around for many christmases. you outgrow your once beloved teddybear. and it doesnt even matter if you humped it like a little nympho. or promised it youd take it with you to college and weddings and be buried with it. its nothing. just fabric and stuffing. i know, i know im simply not good, not right. dont remind me. it makes me reconsider some things. it could be so satisfying to finally finally finally make myself matter. i hate him. i hate how you trust him, forgive him after what he did. i hate how you will never forgive me. i hate how my ignorance was an evil and his controlling assholey malice was just good intentions. i hate him so much. i would become religious if i had some sign that praying to a god for it every day and night would bring him down. would expose his past for all to see. would expose his present. would bare him ugly and naked. but even then theres no getting around it. he matters and i dont. he could have, i dunno, killed or raped someone or like ruined their entire life and still he would be better than me. maybe in a way i'm just as bad. cause yeah im mad he sunk his teeth in. but also, im mad he did it First. i'm mad he had the balls to do it so easy while i hemmed and hawed with my stupid little feelings. my retarded fucking but oh i dont want to hurt anyone oh what if it goes wrong oh i have so much on my plate. i should have taken the opportunity before him. i hate him and i hope he burns in hell forever and ever and i hope i see him there so i can fucking melt his skin and tear it off with a fork.

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whoreviewswho · 2 months

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Gratuitous violence, Philip Hinchcliffe and why Mary Whitehouse was right

There are some things, though not many, that the Doctor Who fandom seems to universally agree on. Everybody can agree that the Weeping Angels are a great villain. Everybody seems onboard with the notion that The Caves of Androzani is one of the best stories of all time. Everybody will attest that the Hinchcliffe era is one of the most consistent runs in the whole show.

You can probably see where I am going with this.

Let's take ourselves to 1977, before the beginning of the fifteenth season for Doctor Who. Season fourteen has finished airing in April and it has turned out to be the most popular to date with average ratings of approximately eleven million viewers tuning in each week. Tom Baker’s fourth incarnation of the eponymous hero was riding an enormous wave of success that had slowly climbed during the Pertwee era (seasons ten and eleven were raking in respectable figures of around eight million) and seemed to peaking under the current regime (figures were climbing by a million viewers a year until season fourteen).

You would think it would be in the BBC's interests then to keep this current team of Tom Baker, producer Philip Hinchcliffe and script-editor Robert Holmes together for as long as possible. That would make sense even now. After all, this is the team that gave us two and half seasons of Tom Baker and Elisabeth Sladen. They introduced Leela, produced Genesis of the Daleks and Pyramids of Mars. This is the era that cemented Tom Baker, the Fourth Doctor, as the most iconic of the original Doctors and still one of the most iconic of all-time, only rivalled by David Tennant and Matt Smith (to date). Even those who could never name him or know exactly what he looks like will know the silhouette off the floppy hat and long multi-coloured scarf. Doctor Who as produced by Hinchcliffe had become a powerhouse production and left an incredible impact.

However, the other thing that Hinchcliffe's run had had become with the public was controversial. Or, at least, that would seem to be how the BBC felt about it. During the mid to late '70s, the Doctor Who production team were under more fire than ever before from public critics (or perhaps it would be more accurate to say the fire of one, extremely vocal critic) for the increasingly horrific tone and excessive violent content deemed unsuitable for Saturday teatime family viewing. Mary Whitehouse, founder of the National Viewers and Listener's Association, has gone down in Doctor Who fan history amongst the like of Michael Grade as one of the show's most infamous detractors. Let me make it very clear that there are innumerable reasons to dislike Whitehouse. It is not without reason that The Goodies' response to receiving positive feedback from her about their programme was to craft an entire episode around a grossly unflattering caricature of her. I have no interest in delving any deeper than this into the beliefs of such a person beyond the confines of this silly blue box show but if you are unfamiliar with Whitehouse or only know her from her Doctor Who association, I implore you to undertake your own research to paint as full a picture of her as a human being as you see fit.

I mention all of this to propose the simple conjecture that perhaps, despite my disagreeing with the foundational reasons of why she opposed programmes like Doctor Who (if she had any amount of media literacy, she would have realised that every aspect of Doctor Who was in opposition to her), she was, in fact, onto something. It feels apt to be writing this so close to my posting of my The Invasion review because there is a similar comparison to be drawn between the Troughton era and the Hinchcliffe/Baker years. Both have been held on a pedestal by the fan community at large as shinning examples, golden periods for Doctor Who where the stories were rarely ever so consistently good and their impact is still being felt to this day. In both cases, these things are somewhat true but it is also true that these periods are a lot more flawed than fans are comfortable to admit. Putting aside the very genuine criticism that Hinchcliffe era Who leaned too heavily upon classic literature and genre film pastiche, there remains a misconception that the show's willingness to portray violent and horrific content at this time equates with it being a mature and compelling drama programme. Torchwood should be all of the evidence you need that this is a fallacy.

Doctor Who has always contained violence and action and it almost certainly always will. I do not object to this but it has to be said that an alarming pattern emerged throughout the Hinchcliffe years that, I think, would have proved detrimental to the show had it continued any longer*. From the moment the Hinchcliffe era begins, with season twelve's The Ark in Space, it strikes a markedly different tone of the preceding tenure. The story is moodier and unsettling in a way that the show had not been for quite some time. The combined efforts of the production team's sensibilities with Baker's distant and unpredictable performance pushed the show away from the innate comfort that had come from the later Pertwee years. The Doctor was no longer a paternal, authority figure and the threats had shifted from power-mad conspirators and identifiable systemic threats to Lovecraftian forces of nature. Right from the start, this run establishes itself as leaning into primal horror and physical threats with the serial's threat being a creature that uses human bodies as an incubator. It is a terrifying idea and one that a pre-watershed serial airing on the BBC should not have any business attempting to depict.

But this is still a fantastical horror. Even if the effect did look good, it is still an alien experience. Mercifully, nobody in the real world has had a Wirrn lay eggs in them so the threat becomes a rather soft kind of scare. This is still a fun, for lack of a better word, form of horror and violence. Perhaps Mary Whitehouse agreed with me since her first notable move against the show came a few weeks later with Genesis of the Daleks which she described as "teatime brutality for tots". Season twelve was the last to have pre-production overseen by the outgoing team of producer Barry Letts and script-editor Terrance Dicks. Season thirteen was when the Hinchcliffe/Holmes duo finally found themselves with full creative control. And so, the Hinchcliffe era TRULY begins with the production of Pyramids of Mars (Planet of Evil was produced later though aired before). Now we see where things truly kick off with a distinctly gothic aesthetic, more graphic and realistic violence all in service of a classic film pastiche, The Mummy in this case. Season thirteen closed with The Seeds of Doom, a story Whitehouse strongly objected to; "Strangulation—by hand, by claw, by obscene vegetable matter—is the latest gimmick, sufficiently close up so they get the point. And just for a little variety, show the children how to make a Molotov cocktail".

The violent depictions in Doctor Who were impactful, of course, The backlash is evidence enough of that fact. But was it necessary? After all, is violence not an essential component in the action-adventure serial? Eric Saward, somebody who would receive very similar criticisms several years after this, claimed that "the Doctor is involved in adventures that deal with violent people" and "that if you display violence you should show it for what it is. I don't think you should dwell on it, I don't think it should be gratuitous, but I think that when you do display violence you should show it hurts".

Regardless of how violence was handled in his own tenure as script editor, I am inclined to agree with this sentiment. If violence is to be portrayed in Doctor Who, or any drama, it should come with an impact on the narrative and the characters. The nature of that impact can wildly vary from story to story but the instant that violence is depicted without consequence, it becomes a gratuitous and unnecessary representation. To use an overdone but high-profile example from contemporary media, this is the problem with violence in Batman v Superman, for example. Characters engage in violent acts, the violence is graphic in nature but the impact fails to be felt by the audience because the acts themselves frequently fail to inform or challenge the characters and/or plot moving forward. Violence is essential to action and can be a very useful component of adventurer fiction but it can easily lose its impact and become unnecessary without proper consideration.

It is in this way that I would agree that the violence and horror throughout Hinchcliffe Doctor Who had started to become gratuitous and frequently unnecessary.

Take The Brain of Morbius, for example, which Whitehouse called; "some of the sickest and most horrific material seen on children's television". The character of Solon, as played in the serial by Philip Madoc, is wonderfully drawn. He is a fanatical and cruel sociopath. A malicious and pathetic shell of a man whose arrogance and obsession dominates his every action. I could draft this description from episode one alone. In episode four, he kills his assistant Condo by way of blowing a bloody hole in his chest with a pistol. The moment is certainly gory and it is a tragic end to the story of Condo for him to be killed in this fashion but the act itself, the depiction of a hyperrealistic blood-splatter coming out of this child-like character, ultimately adds very little. Nobody mourns Condo's death, the violence is hardly an escalation given that we know Solon practices dismemberment before the story even begins and it reveals nothing about who he is as a person. All that matters is that Condo tries to stop him and fails. The violent death is simply an aesthetic choice.

So let us get to season fourteen. The one where the final vestige of the Pertwee years, investigative journalist Sarah Jane Smith, leaves the show to be replaced by a savage descendent of humanity's far future. A hunter and killer who travels armed with a knife and poisonous darts whose introduction sees her quickly chased down and hunted for murder. It has surely become clearly by now that yet another year on, the violence in Doctor Who has seen an enthusiastic uptick.

The Deadly Assassin is the story that killed the Hinchcliffe era and epitomises the problem that had emerged with violence in Doctor Who unlike any other. Despite being a political thriller set inside the Time Lord Panopticon, the entire third episode becomes a survivalist thriller seeing our hero shot at, dropped off of cliffs and bombed inside a virtual reality. Functionally, this means that an entire quarter of the serial is a deviation from the main plot into what is thrilling but entirely unnecessary surrealist horror and violence. The action exists simply to generate visual excitement in an otherwise very dialogue-heavy story and the acts of violence themselves never lead to any story developments or impact the Doctor or Goth in any meaningful way when it ends. It also has a walking emaciated corpse for a main villain for no readily justifiable reason. The Deadly Assassin troubled Whitehouse so much that her uproar led to the BBC censoring the third episode's cliffhanger for future broadcasts.

Just as Michael Grade became infamous amongst fans for cancelling Doctor Who, Whitehouse would be similarly reviled for ending the most popular period of Doctor Who. After all, it is on record that it was her continued, vocal criticism that influenced the BBC's decision to move Hinchcliffe on from Doctor Who. After all, who else is there to blame? Her opinion was so highly regarded by the BBC that the Director-General offered a personal apology for how offended she was by The Deadly Assassin. As noted previously, season fourteen saw Doctor Who at the height of its popularity and a cultural phenomenon that was soon to be on a downward trajectory until 2005. I also observed that this particular run as a whole, the three seasons produced by Philip Hinchcliffe, has been revered by Doctor Who fans ever since it ended on the second of April 1977.

Given the decidedly different direction that Doctor Who was taken in when succeeding producer Graham Williams came onboard, it has become one of the big 'what ifs' to speculate on what Hinchcliffe might have done with another year on the show. Big Finish has attempted to answer that question with a handful of unmade scripts from his time being adapted with a full cast and an additional series of dramas whose plots were conceived by him. The answer is that he would have continued to produce very creative and compelling science-fiction adventure serials. No surprises there. Season fifteen saw a drop in viewership of around two million on average and season sixteen dropped even further. Perhaps it would have been great for the show to see Hinchcliffe's vision continue just a bit longer. Perhaps his time was preemptively cut short.

Or perhaps the biggest threat to Hinchcliffe era Who was the Hinchcliffe era itself. Perhaps I sound like a bit of a hater and I can understand that impression coming across but I must insist at this juncture that I do love this period of Doctor Who. I think that the consistency of quality at this time was absurdly good and many of the stories remain among my favourites as top-shelf examples of what Doctor Who is capable of. Like a lot of fans, I also wonder what might have happened if this team stayed on for another year and how different the timeline of the show would be. However, it is undeniable that like the earthbound format and the base-under-siege before it, the violent thriller pastiches would have tun their course with enough time too. In fact, I would argue that they absolutely did. in 1977, Doctor Who was in desperate need for a change, although it probably didn't know it, simply to save itself from becoming a victim of its own success. I shudder to imagine the six-part finale that is even more violent and even more macabre than what had already come before.

Then again, perhaps we don't have to imagine. We do have season twenty-two to know for sure.

*Even in the previous era, violence played a major role. After all, this was the time when Doctor Who was allying himself with the military. This is an important thing to mention though not strictly relevant to what I am talking about here. I will just explain for now that I think this violence serves a different purpose which I might get into in more depth in some later post. Let's just say that I have no doubt that Mary Whitehouse would have found less objection in presenting Mother England as a noble, defensive force than depicting disfigured nazi scientists.

#culture #actors #history #movies #doctor who #fourth doctor #4th doctor #politics #feminism #censorship #violence #children #tv #television #scifi #1970s

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skin-slave · 2 years

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I'm sorry if people hurt you. But God doesn't make evil happen. Satan does. Please choose God.

My brain: Do not engage. Block. Delete.

Also my brain: You know what?

See, if god is omniscient, that means he knows everything at all times. God knew way before creating Lucifer that the fall, etc, were gonna happen. He knew about all the evil. All the punishment. All the suffering. And he did it anyway. On purpose.

It means he knew, before he made ppl, everything that would happen. He already knew about the apple, and that by creating ppl, he would be setting them up for failure. (Which he would then punish, like a parent beating their kid for spilling a glass of water that they themselves filled too full. Real classy.) He knew. And he did it anyway. On purpose.

If you're a little less "from dust," and a little more "Darwin," he knew before the first amoeba that evolution would lead to us. He knew all about genocide, starvation, cancer, babies in dumpsters, deforestation, micro plastics, rape, torture, eugenics, ad-nauseum. He knew everything, in disgusting detail. And he did it anyway. On purpose.

I could not care less if a guy he created, for the express purpose of being a supervillain, has a hand on someone's rudder. It does not matter, even a little bit, if he just set the universe up and let it run, hands-off. His larger plans or whatever are entirely irrelevant.

I'm not omniscient, but I know that, if I make a splodey device, it will explode. Creating that device and then passively letting it explode doesn't make me not responsible. I did it, on purpose, with full knowledge of the ramifications. I don't get to skate by just bc I didn't physically push the shrapnel thru the bystanders. I did that shit.

And I'm tired of getting the spin that "UwU it's not his fault..." If that god is real, he is at fault for literally everything. You cannot say he created babies, but not the leukemia killing the babies. He made them both, and not by chance. It was the most informed choice in the history of ever. Dude looked at pediatric leukemia and went, "yup, sounds like a good idea."

If a person created leukemia, on purpose, knowing it would be killing kids, I would not sing songs about how rad they are. Idgaf if they also made rainbows. That's some really evil shit. The worst person you know would probably pass on creating leukemia. The moral compass is not a little off there. It's gone.

"It's part of his plan," is not a save. It makes it worse. It means that guy values something above the wellbeing and lives of children. It means that, whatever that thing is, he's totally ok with becoming a cosmic Mengele to get it. It means he's too lazy/stupid/apathetic/whatever to get from A to B without torturing and murdering children.

Please tell me you can see how fucking horrific that is. Somebody's dad going, "yeah, I had to slowly kill my kids to get a PS5... well, I mean, I didn't have to... actually, I technically could've just snapped my fingers and one would've appeared... but I work in mysterious ways, ya know?" And we're supposed to respect that amoral piece of shit? Where tf is your moral compass?

And you know what? That same omniscient god knew, at the beginning of time, that I would think and feel like I do, and why. He knew. And he did it anyway. On purpose. Sure, maybe the plan is to wait till I die and torture me for being exactly what he knew I would be. But I would rather sit in hell with other ppl who called out the bullshit, than lick the boots of the worst creature I can imagine. I kinda have standards for myself.

#anti religion #not sorry this was cathartic #death mention #child death mention #lots of fuckin blasphemy

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undeadjutsu · 2 years

Text

@madatobiweek2022

Day 1 - October 9: Folklore, Fantasy, & Myth | Time Travel

Snapshots from Madara and Tobirama's Fun Vacation Through Time and resulting awkward alliance while they try to get back to their own time… and how that alliance becomes more.

🔥🌊

From the moment he and Madara had landed in the future, Tobirama had known something was wrong. But he hadn't guessed time travel, not right away.

They'd been mid fight, having run into each other while each on their own solo missions, and a skirmish between the two had ensued. Tobirama, knowing he was outclassed when it came to sheer strength, had tried to retreat, but—some strange interaction between the use of the newly-invented but untested Hiraishin and the Sharingan had quite literally blown up in both their faces.

It didn't take long for them to realize that things were not right, considering both the Uchiha and Senju compounds were gone, and both of them could sense a massive amount of people (including shinobi) in a very small area.

What followed was a horrifically awkward temporary alliance. Both wanted to get back to their brothers, to their clans, of course, but it hadn't taken long to realize that it had taken the both of them to get into the mess, and would take both of them to get out of it.

🔥🌊

"Is that… you and Hashirama on the mountain?"

"Yes, it appears so."

"…Why."

Tobirama, obviously, didn't know either. After a long few minutes of time stretched between them, he spoke, half to himself. "…Do you think, perhaps, this is the future?" It seemed impossible, yet as a shinobi he'd seen many impossible things, and it seemed the only thing that could fit.

Madara bristled. "Are you saying that the Senju won?" He shot an angry glance up at the mountain, two Senju and three unknown faces, none of which seemed Uchiha.

Tobirama shook his head, however. He was a powerful sensor, yet he couldn't feel a single Senju in the village… And only one Uchiha (besides Madara.)

🔥🌊

"Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

"You killed Izuna."

Tobirama scoffed. It wasn't him, it was the future version of him. In their time, Izuna was still alive.

"I should kill you right now."

"If you do, you won't get back to our time. And you won't be able to get back to your very much alive brother if you're stuck here."

Madara snarled at him, but the awkward truce remained unbroken, and the biting tension lessened.

"…When we get back, I won't kill him. We've now seen how that turned out, and it's not a fate I'd want to recreate."

Tobirama ignored the way he could feel Madara's eyes on him, judging how truthful he was being, perhaps.

🔥🌊

Papers spread all Tobirama. The accident had been effortless; reversing it was harder. Nigh on impossible.

Madara slammed his head against the desk beside him, frustrated beyond all measure.

"This is pointless."

Tobirama just hummed neutrally, glancing up. Madara, slumped on the table, just looked like a big pile of hair.

At first he'd been constantly tense around Madara, ready for attack, but as he'd kept to their peace agreement, eventually he'd stopped being so wary around him. Even trusted him, at least not to attack him without warning.

Maybe they could even manage it back in their own time.

But maybe he was just out of it; he hadn't slept in over a week, anyway, too busy working on a breakthrough that felt just out of reach…

Unthinkingly, he ran his fingers through Madara's hair. Huh. It was softer than he expected.

Madara glanced up, looking surprised and confused, and Tobirama quickly looked away, pulling his hand back. He could feel heat creeping up his neck, and he was certain the blush would be obvious with his pale skin, bright as the tattoos on his face.

He definitively needed to sleep.

🔥🌊

A good shinobi knew to be patient, and they were. Slowly they circled ever closer, like two orbiting planets on a decaying circuit, eventually bound to collide.

And like two planets colliding, they did so in a dramatic explosion.

They were sparring, both as a way to keep their physical skills sharp, and as a brief distraction, since they were stuck on their 'getting back home' problem with no progress.

Madara was a true powerhouse, but Tobirama was a flexible and skilled shinobi as well. When they weren't fighting to kill, the spars were quite enjoyable. Also, exceedingly destructive.

Sometimes, Tobirama even managed to get the upperhand and win their spars.

When one such spar ended that way, with Tobirama pining Madara down, a smirk across his lips—Madara couldn't resist grabbing him and pulling him the rest of the way down for a biting kiss.

A kiss which Tobirama eagerly returned.

It was in that moment that something clicked, and Tobirama realized the missing piece—the last thing they needed to solve the problem that would get them back home.

Tobirama darted off, leaving Madara flustered, disarrayed, and confused.

🔥🌊

To everyone back in their own time, they'd been gone only a day. To Madara and Tobirama—it had been over a year that they had spent together in the future.

To everyone else, the change between them had been dramatic—as had their newly inspired desire for peace.

Things moved quickly after that.

"Our village… it's beautiful." Tobirama murmured, standing on top of one of the newly raised buildings in their newly blooming village, with Hashirama.

Hashirama gave him a beaming smile, one that slowly softened into something contemplative. "It is. Tobi… you were so wary of this for so long, making peace. What changed?"

Tobirama thought of the broken village of the future, all but empty of both Uchiha and Senju. Of a boy broken by death and betrayal. Of a boy so bright, but oh so lonely. Of cruel and kind people alike. Of intentions and goals, of ends that could never justify the means.

Of a village that had persisted not because of the Uchiha and the Senju, but in spite of them.

"I realized the path we were on would only lead to tragedy. It was better to take a chance, take the risk that something better could be built instead, rather than stay the path I knew was rotten. I don't know what the future holds now… but no matter what happens, at least we tried."

He glanced down, and caught sight of Madara on the ground, who glanced up at him, and smiled.

Maybe there were a few more selfish reasons, too. But Tobirama thought he could be forgiven for that, as he smiled back.

#naruto #madatobiweek2022 #madatobi #tobirama #madara #fic

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thefamilyeldritchabomination · 10 months

Text

Chapter Sixteen: Music Pt. 3

“Look, about earlier, that was my first one after a concerning streak of not being able to do so as a leisure activity. I didn’t feel the joy I normally would with such an activity, but I did feel rage though when he came running at you. No offense, but you're absolutely too gentle for that sort of thing and I simply had to protect you, you’re welcome.” Envy began in one go as they sipped a bit more of the cognac. ‘Oh but the deer would greatly disagree with you on the too gentle part.’ Dolly thought to herself as she poured a bit of her kirsch into the glass to sip, listening along to the ramble.

“I guess what I’m saying is that, I would rather not have you in combat just yet, maybe some practice sparring with me alone, but other than that, no fighting for you for a long time. You’re definitely a lot easier for me to work with unlike the one month old. Damn it, I’m still trying to stop feeling sick around the one month old, even after tossing that little bag of organs to him to care for. I thought that sick feeling would go away after doing that, but it’s still creeping around me.” Envy felt ready to kick their own ass after briefly opening up like that. “Envy…I think that sick feeling you’re getting might be guilt, which is a good thing, I guess…” Dolly was surprised that Envy could in fact feel guilt given their history of stunted emotional growth. “Me? Feel guilty? Don’t be weird with me Dolly, I can’t feel guilty after following through an order, it’s my job. I have to follow through with it no matter what without care about the consequences afterwards. It’d be a sign of weakness otherwise.” Envy went into full denial mode over the possibility of character growth in the right direction, it was never in their nature for sure.

“That’s not a weakness though, Envy, that means that you’re becoming a better person. Sure the gifting Hughes a kid was an odd one, but that was a step towards the right direction. You’re attempting to make some form of amendment.” Dolly looked at the situation as the right time to direct Envy into that positive direction with hopes that they maybe could become less of a murder gremlin.

“You’re too cute for your own good, you know that?” Envy murmured before burying their face into the table, wanting to crawl into a hole for a decent amount of time.

“Is that why you hugged me earlier?” Dolly in typical apex predator nature went in for the metaphorical kill upon asking that question.

“....Yes…” Envy started getting green and scaly around the face upon realizing that cover-up half truth made it all the more worse when it came out.

“Oh shit..hey it’s alright, let’s just calm down and not turn green out in public.. Here, how about you try some of my kirsche? I think you’d like it a lot.” Dolly went to pour some of the kirsch into Envy’s glass to try out.

Envy stared into the deep void of their existence as the glass of kirsche was placed before them. Never once during their time on the dirt ball had Envy ever had someone share something with them. It was something they never thought would happen to them before. Slowly, Envy took the glass and began sipping a little bit of the liquor. The greenness and small dotting of scales started to recede, returning Envy to looking human rather than an escaped Alchemy experiment gone wrong. Dolly relaxed a bit that Envy had calmed down and avoided having to deal with panicked humans in a confined space. Sure there was that chance Envy would go on a therapeutic murder spree as their coping mechanism, but it was still progress towards Envy being less horrific than they usually are. The table was silent for a moment, waiting for the roasted flesh of duck to be brought before them. Envy giving a side glance, slowly filled Dolly's glass with the cognac in return for sharing some of the kirsche with them.

“Thank you Envy, it was very nice of you to share your cognac with me.” Dolly gave that warm smile as she tried the cognac out.

“Whatever, you gave me some of the kirsche, so I returned the favor. I do suppose I can explore the ridiculous possibility of me feeling guilty over a small trivial matter.” Envy felt successful in their recovery over having someone share things with them despite just doing that themself.

“That’s good to know, I’m pretty proud of your Envy that you’re going to explore that emotion on your own.” Dolly said as she smiled to reassure Envy of how well they’re doing comparatively.

“So far I’ve learned that emotions are the worst things imaginable and they don’t come with a proper pamphlet.” Envy turned their nose up a bit at the fact their emotional growth so far had been the worst thing possible to their usual little comfortable hatred cloud.

“True, emotions are difficult at times, but so far I think you’re doing pretty good, you even stopped using Freddy as an emotional whipping boy which is big progress right there.” Dolly gave a hopeful look to Envy for their growth and lack of Freddy torture.

“Well of course I’m doing good, I’m the first homunculus, I can master emotions easily.” Envy puffed out their chest as they gave that little boast.

“Yes you are, you’re gonna master those emotions like a champion.” Dolly said confidently, figuring this was the best route for Envy to go with at this point.

“Damn straight I’m the champion.” Envy proudly said as the duck made its landing on the table.

The aroma of the roasted duck silenced both Envy and Dolly as they stared down that delicious poultry, picking which part of the duck to place on their dishes. The dish was sweet and savory as the two enjoyed it with a side of this bacon riesling orzo. Envy was finally fully calm after the day’s event earlier and being made to confront their own unwanted emotional growth. To Envy, duck was the comfort meat to enjoy after a nauseating day they had as they went for the orzo. It was the perfect distraction to the main event to come as Envy went in for seconds of the meal. Dolly, likewise, was enjoying the meal and forgot about the fact she was pretty much paying for the entire dinner course with Envy. There was the added bonus of not having to deal with bickering at the table which Dolly enjoyed much more. Though, in the back of Dolly’s mind, she was certain Freddy was ordering up curry to spite everyone involved.

“Thinking about the Face Fur?” Envy paused in their meal as they noticed Dolly’s expression shift a bit.

“Good guess, yeah I’m a bit concerned about Freddy. He’ll likely order up curry as a retaliation, so please be prepared for that one.” Dolly admitted as she too took a pause in the meal to chat.

“You’re joking, he’s not stupid enough to pull that with us, we’re not like the weaklings Greed has.” Envy scoffed a bit at the notion that Freddy would be so stupid to do something like that around someone like them. “Envy, Freddy was the one to call that man a DILF out in public and caused the kidnapping scenario.” Dolly gently reminded, knowing just how far Freddy might go with the retaliation. “..Fair enough, Face Fur can be dumb enough to pull that.” Envy half near facepalmed at the realization that Freddy indeed was likely running on two and a half brain cells.

“If he does, would you like to just watch the night skyline with me to avoid the toxic gasses that I’m sure will come.” Dolly said, thinking the offer would be sufficient to avoid a full on brawl in the hotel room.

“That I would be more than interested in, we’re bringing Dorian along with us for that.” Envy made a point to get Dorian out of the room seeing as Dorian was the favorite.

“Of course we’re bringing Dorian along, he shouldn’t be left to suffer the toxic gas cloud.” Dolly had to agree, Dorian didn’t deserve to suffer a toxic green cloud.

“Now that has been dealt with, think the Face Fur is getting any closer to creating that stone for us?” Envy asked, feeling like it was a good time to ease Dolly into the fact a Coup de Grace was going to happen pretty soon. “I don’t know, Freddy’s been testing so many things to create the stone with what information he was given. Freddy was upset that I wouldn’t let him feed Dorian the failed stones.” Dolly tried to think of something else to avoid the mental images of the failed stones. “Seriously, he tried to feed the failed stones to Dorian? I’ll be honest with you and say I really don’t care about the stone, especially with how things have gone down lately with our benefactor. If the stone is made, I want you to know that it’ll likely be used as bait for something big. When it does happen, you’re going to have to take Dorian, leave with Lust and Gluttony.” Envy went in to rip the proverbial bandage off in one swoop, catching Dolly fully off guard with the first mention of the plans. “Envy, what are you planning? I’m concerned now.” Dolly’s attention was fully on Envy now and fully concerned with where it was going. “Let’s just say I’ve taken your earlier advice about Dante very seriously and decided that was the best route to take.” Envy casually said as if it were just agreeing to a car color that they couldn’t settle on earlier. “Didn’t you say Dante was stupidly strong? Shouldn’t you want help with tackling her?” Dolly was looking at Envy as if they basically said ‘I’m gonna ride this unicycle into a gator pit for laughs’. “We’ll be having a meeting with Greed and his little sideshow to help me out. As for Lust and Gluttony, they’re way too weak. While yes, Lust can kill, I don’t think she would be able to handle the mind games Dante is capable of. I don’t want to lose either of them to Dante, so you’re going with them and Dorian to an undisclosed location until the matter has been settled.” Envy decided to reassure Dolly that the Coup de Grace will go smoothly and nothing truly terrible will happen, just simple business as per usual.

#The Wayfarer #Fullmetal Alchemist #FMA 03 #Fan Fiction #FMA Fan Fiction #Writing #Envy the Jealous #Envy #OCs #Homunculus #Homunnculi

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zodiakuroo · 3 years

Text

Un(holy) Trinity

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader x Shigaraki

Content: 18+ dubcon/noncon, threesome, manhandling, rough sex, corruption, degradation, humiliation, breathplay, stepcest, breeding, blasphemy and sacrilege, elements of mindbreak and god complex (?)

Word count: 4.1k

Notes: my first threesome and idk how to feel about it but here it is! If it’s bad I can blame it on the fact that I just had my wisdom teeth extracted and am currently in a world of pain :) also i’m on bedrest and incredibly bored so if anyone has requests or thirsts or just wants to chat... yeah

also if this banner is shit i’m sorry i rushed and made it on my phone cause i just rly wanted to to post

This is part 2 to my other fic Love Thy Brother which you can read here

Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made. And he said to the woman, “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden’?” - Genesis 3:1

Twelve days.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity to your step-brother, no less.

The night that it happened, you lay awake in your bed dreading the aftermath of the horrific incident. How could you face him again? How could you face your family? How could you face God?

You were too cowardly to face the rest of your household. The Todoroki family welcomed you into their home only for you betray them by sleeping with Touya. Ever since you were little, your mother would say she had a sort of sixth sense that meant God would always tell her when you’d been up to mischief. It sounds silly but there was no explanation for how she would always catch out in lie or know things that you never told her. You feared she would take one look at you and know the sin you committed. And so you chose to make yourself scarce, taking extra shifts at work and choosing to study at the campus library rather than at home. Your siblings seemed to notice how busy you suddenly were, often remarking how they missed you around the house. That just made you feel more ashamed.

As for God, you felt like you needed to do whatever necessary to prove your faith. You wanted Him to know the extent of your shame and remorse. You were weak in spirit, making you an easy target for someone as devious as Touya. You prayed and begged for forgiveness until your knees hurt but no matter what you did, the guilt was inescapable. You realized it was because, irrespective of the regret and remorse you felt, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed what happened. You liked the way Dabi made you feel and you hated yourself for it. But no matter how much you liked it, something like that could never happen again. As penance, you banned yourself from bringing your hands anywhere near your groin. After all that temptation is what brought you to this point in the first place. But the thread of your self-control is thin and withered so at night when you’re certain everyone is asleep, you’re humping your pillow like an animal and biting down on your lip trying to keep from moaning his name. At least you weren’t touching right?

Dabi, by some God-given miracle, made himself scarce as well. It wasn’t uncommon for the noirette to disappear for days at a time doing heaven knows what only to arrive back at home like nothing happened; so no one really questioned his absence. Perhaps he felt the same way you did and was avoiding facing you and the other Todorokis.

Yeah right.

Shame? Todoroki Touya doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

In any case, you had become used to a Dabi-less house and so lulled into a false sense of safety, slowly but surely reverting back to normal. That’s why as you make your way downstairs, prepared to go to your church, the sound of gunfire and explosions from the living room doesn’t alarm you. Probably Natsuo or Shouto playing one of their video games, you thought. But when you get to the bottom of the stairs you’re met with unmistakable dark locks. Not just him. The back of another person’s head, one with pale blue, shoulder length hair. Before you can stop yourself, you let out a gasp. Neither of them react, seemingly too focused on their game. You don’t waste any time feeling relieved, choosing instead to make a silent escape.

You could only dream of being so lucky.

“Oi!” Your step-brother calls without turning around. He hasn’t seen you, you think. If you move quickly you can still get out of this. “I know you heard me, brat. Get over here before I drag you over here.” He still doesn’t bother to turn around but the sharpness in his tone lets you know that you’d be smart to listen. You take a second to steel your nerves and make your way over to the couch, trying your best to look as intimidating as possible. You scowl at both men but they are so engrossed in their video game, they don’t even acknowledge that you’re standing right there. “Aren’t you gonna say hi? We have company.”

We?

The company in question is Shigaraki Tomura. He’s been to the house before although he’s never even so much as glanced in your direction, too busy with his phone or playing games with Dabi. Despite your hard expression you can only manage a meek “Hello Shigaraki.”

He responds by finally looking at you, with a sleazy grin, a pair of crimson eyes, surrounded by creases meet your own. “Sup.”

Beer cans litter the coffee table, one of them being turned into a makeshift ashtray while both have smouldering cigarettes perched between their lips. “You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.”

“You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.” Dabi mocks you with a nasal voice.

You simply roll your eyes, not interested in continuing this interaction any further. “Whatever. I’m leaving now.” You state with as much firmness as you can muster. You spin on your heels but are kept in place by long, slender digits wrapped around your wrist.

“Where are you off to anyways?” The game paused, both boys now looking at you.

Out of habit, you answer truthfully. “Bible study.”

Shigaraki and Dabi burst into raucous laughter.

You should have lied.

“Nah you’re gonna hang out with me and Shigaraki for a bit.”

“Dabi, I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to do anything except what I tell you and I’m telling you to sit.”

Before you can protest you’re being hauled on to the couch, squeezed between the two of them.

“Nice necklace.” Tomura snorts, hand reaching out to grab at your crucifix but you swat it away. His gaze is unnerving. It makes you wonder if- no. He promised he wouldn’t.

Just like that, their game is resumed, as if you were never there. A few rounds pass, no words exchanged between either of them, only curses muttered under their breath. “Dabi, can I please go. I’m bored.”

Wrong choice of words.

“You hear that Tomura? The princess is bored.” His fingers are still moving rapidly over his controller.

“Really now? Come on then Todoroki, let’s show her a good time. I’ve seen how she likes to have fun.”

His comment on your necklace suddenly makes sense, but you still can’t believe it. “You didn’t…” you whip your head back to look at Dabi.

”Sorry doll, you made your Nii-san so proud, I just had to show you off.” Dabi smiles shamelessly, lighting himself another cigarette.

“You’re fucking sick Touya.” Tomura says, however his tone is not one of disgust but rather of admiration.

“You promised...” Your voice breaks. You’re humiliated beyond belief.

Both of them laugh at you again, discarding their controllers. “Told you, it’s adorable how stupid she is.” Dabi remarks to his friend, as if you’re not sitting right next to them.

You try to force your way off the couch but get pulled into Dabi’s lap, one of his arms hooking around both of yours, securing them behind your back. You squirm in his arms but he stills you with a hard slap on your inner thigh. “Be good okay? Don’t embarrass me.” He nuzzles into your neck.

Shigaraki flips up your dress exposing your white lace panties. He runs his thumb up and down your clothed slit, he fabric slowly becoming even more transparent. One severe jerk to the top of your dress and the straps are torn clean off, revealing the matching bra. “Yo, Touya. I thought she was a good girl.”

Dabi peers over your shoulder to get look. “Who’s all this for babe? You screwing the preacher or something? Or were you hoping I’d do something like this?” He tugs down your bra until your breasts are spilling over the top of it.

“Dabi…” Your choke on your plea when he sinks his teeth into your neck. He bites down so hard you’re positive he’s left a mark.

“Who?”

“T-Touya-nii.” You whimper.

“Better.”

Your destroyed dress is discarded somewhere across the room and you find yourself on your hands and knees with Shigaraki kneeling on the couch in front of you and Dabi behind you.

“Go easy on her alright Tomura. It’s her first time sucking cock.” He chuckles.

Your eyes go wide. “Wait...” you mewl but neither pay you any mind.

“And you.” Dabi yanks a fistful of your hair. “No teeth. No puke. Or I’ll let my boy ream your little ass as punishment.”

“Yeah. What he said.” Shigaraki mutters, pulling his semi out of his sweatpants, rubbing his tip against your lips. His is not as scary as your step-brother’s but him staring down at you like this, makes him seem every bit as intimidating.

Pre-cum dribbles from the swollen tip. You’re not entirely sure you want that in your mouth but you’re also not sure if you have a choice so you open up hesitantly.

Dabi’s right. It is your first time doing something like this. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do but as it turns out you don’t have to do much, not with the way Shigaraki starts thrusting his quickly hardening member into your mouth.

“Move your tongue slut.” The man in front of you grunts. You do your best despite the heavy intrusion to obey his command, moving from side to side, swirling around the head when he pulls out of your mouth. He looks down at you with cruel vermillion eyes, panting as he strokes himself in front of you, spreading your saliva across his shaft before sliding deep into your mouth again.

Behind you, Dabi spreads apart your cheeks, squeezing the flesh in his calloused hands. “Remember what I said. Be good and I’ll give you a reward.” He pulls your panties to the side and lets out a whistle at the sight of your dripping slit. “She’s enjoying it. Make her take it deeper.”

You can’t possibly fathom how much deeper he can go when his head is already nudging at your tonsils. You try to swallow the saliva building up in your mouth, making your cheeks hollow out around Shigaraki’s shaft. Seems like that was the right thing to do as his hand flies to the back of your head. “Shit. Shit. So good.”

Dabi’s breath wafts over your pussy. He spreads your lips apart and you feel his hot tongue lick up the juices leaking from your hole. You squeal around Tomura’s dick. You want to pull off but his spindly fingers hold your head in place.

“Told you angel. Good little sisters get rewards.” With that he takes your clit between his lips and suckles on it gently while one of his fingers circles your entrance. Knuckle by knuckle he slides into you, making you keen. You arch your back trying to shift your hips backwards against his hand, silently urging him to find that special spot he showed you last time. He establishes a loose rhythm. Hot wet muscle and cold metal of his piercing circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, before applying suction while his fingers work you open.

The sensation is overwhelming, a form of heavenly torture and your thighs quiver barely able to hold you up while you use your last bit of mental strength to focus on suppressing your gags. That mental strength all but evaporates when the digits inside you graze that rough patch embedded in your walls. It’s so pleasurable your reflex is to run from his fingers. Luckily for Shigaraki, that means you move forward, taking him further into your mouth.

“This where you want me? This your spot, angel?” Dabi taunts you. Shigaraki holds you in place while two of your step-brother’s fingers drill your cunt, hitting that spot over and over again. Garbled moans and cries leave your mouth and reverberate around Tomura’s cock, proving to be too much for him ultimately.

“Shit Stop!” Don’t wanna come yet.” He pulls out your mouth so that a string of your drool drips down to your breasts.

“God! Touya-nii!” You sputter out.

“Still with the God shit?” He uses your hair to force you to look at him, neck twisted at an awkward, uncomfortable angle. “God ever make you feel this good?” His fingers thrust into you harder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“Ngghh-N-no –oh! Oh!” is your incoherent answer.

Dabi forces you back down, shoving you face first into the cushions. “See? Fuck him. Give up on god. Give up on everyone except your big brother cause no one else can make you feel this good.”

You’re so pathetic. The way you’re rocking yourself in unison with the motions of his hands. The way your tongue hangs out of your mouth, impeding any sort of intelligible verbal response. The way you’re mindlessly nodding along to whatever filth is coming out of Dabi’s mouth.

“C’mon Touya. Turn her around. Wanna try out that sweet pussy you’ve been bragging about.” You’re reminded that you aren’t alone. No, your brother’s best friend is right there to witness exactly how pathetic you are.

“Yeah in a minute. I’m still having my fun.” Dabi answers, face pressed against your mons before working you with his mouth once again.

“Man! Come on!” Tomura whines.

“I said in a minute. Not my fault you can’t last.”

It’s amazing how they can bicker like this right now, as if you aren’t on your hands and knees for them, gummy walls still pulsing around his fingers. However, it’s not long before Dabi’s focus is back on you taking you to the brink of orgasm. He slows his fingers, keeping you balanced on that razor thin edge. “Should I make you cum angel?” His voice is dripping with fake concern. “Dunno… what’s in it for me?”

“Anything! Touya-nii please!”

“Anything? You gonna obey me? Do whatever I say like a good little angel? You gonna worship me?” You can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he’s mocking you.

Probably the latter. And you deserve it too.

Your faith was the thing you deemed more important than anything and anyone else but Dabi, all too easily, convinced you to disregard that. Made you lose all sense and give into lust by showing you mindblowing pleasure, only magnified by your awareness of how deeply sinful this all was. That’s the extent of the power he has over you. The story of Adam and Eve is one you know forwards and backwards and yet you were so easily tempted forbidden fruit and left completely corrupted. Yeah, he’s definitely mocking you.

“Any- fuck- anything” You’re wiggling your ass, goading Dabi into finishing you off

“Cum in my mouth. Angel, give it to me” That’s the final straw. You explode around his fingers. Despite your walls, clamping around him, he manages to piston into you, hitting that squishy spot with astounding accuracy. His unyielding stimulation makes it feel as though the high won’t end. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Eventually, it does end though, his fingers drag out against the pull of your swollen pussy. He licks you clean making sure he gets every last drop of your cum, both inside and out, on his tongue. The ball of his piercing catches onto your rim making you yelp. He soothes the sting with gentle laps of his tongue.

“Tastes so sweet angel. So sweet knowing I’m the only one to ever fuck this pretty pussy.” He snickers before adding “So far.”

“Yeah, can I fuck her now?” Tomura was turned on before but seeing the way you fell apart at the hands of your brother? His minimal patience has run out. All he can think of now is being inside you.

“You heard him babe. Turn around.” He spanks your ass. You try to turn around but thanks to your shaky legs you nearly fall off the couch. Dabi catches you before that happens and he dutifully sets you up on all fours, held up by quivering limbs. You hear heavy breathing from behind you as Shigaraki taps his head against your puffy clit while you twitch in place.

“She wants this so bad. Had no idea your Christian little sister was such a whore.” Shigaraki mutters. He holds you still as he buries himself in you, breathing becoming more erratic with every inch until his hip bones are digging into your soft flesh. He’s so deep. You feel so full. You squeeze shut your eyelids, savouring the stretch.

Calloused fingers press into your jaw, making your eyes shoot open. “Pretty angel, did you forget about me?” Dabi looms over you, making a show of spitting in his palm and using it to stroke himself. He slips his thumb into your mouth, pad pressing down on the plush pillow of your tongue. “Gonna stuff you nice ‘n full angel.” All you can do is blink up at him with teary eyes, pupils blown wide with desire.

Shigaraki begins thrusting into you, hips moving at a brutal pace. Dabi isn’t far behind him, replacing his thumb with his cock and you don’t waste time waiting for him to tell you what to do. You close your lips around his shaft, engulfing him in the wet heat of your mouth.

Unlike his friend, Dabi starts off slow. His piercings drag across your tongue and you taste metal and the salt of his pre-cum. It takes some time for you to get used to taking him in your mouth, the jewellery an added obstacle.

You feel so full.

Shigaraki is bottoming out with every thrust, it’s so lewd the way it makes you squelch around him. Dabi’s shaft is rubbing your throat raw and still, you make an effort to take him deeper. He keeps one hand on the back of your head while he fucks you mouth.

He looks so ethereal, so euphoric, letting out little moans and whispered expletives. The sounds he makes are divine, so heavily contrasted by everything you know about him. It leaves you star struck. He recognizes the adoration in your eyes and responds in kind with a cocky smirk. He remembers how you looked at him when you first met. Disdain and judgment. Now you look at him like he’s your only salvation.

It’s sad actually. How you’re so desperate for someone to tell you how to live. And what a sweet, adoring little follower you are. Wasted on religion if you ask him. So soft and pliant, perfect for your big brother to mould and corrupt into his personal fuckangel.

“Angel, Nii-san’s gonna fill you up. And you’re gonna take it yeah?”

Your whole life you aspired to this holy standard of perfection in the hopes of escaping eternal damnation. But you’re beyond absolution now.

“All of it down your throat.”

It’s okay though.

If heaven doesn’t feel like this, you’re not sure it’s worth all the effort to get there.

He holds your necklace behind you like a leash, twisting it around his fingers. Between the way he’s basically strangling you and the way your swallowing muscles contract around his cock means that you’re not getting much air into your lungs. Your head is spinning, from being both oxygen deprived and cock drunk.

“Your God doesn’t want you anymore.�� The clasp snaps and he dangles the charm in front of your face. The mould of Christ nailed to the cross taunts you. What was once a symbol of divine love and God’s boundless forgiveness and sacrifice is just a reminder of how far you’ve fallen into depravity, creaming around Shigaraki’s cock as he ruins your cunt while your Nii-san claims your throat “You’re filthy.” Touya sneers at you as he holds himself in your throat, watching you cry and choke around him. “Dirty fuckin angel.” He grunts as he floods your mouth with the taste of his cum. It’s not exactly pleasant but you try to swallow it all down. There’s just so much. That means he’s pleased with you right? You want him to be pleased. Good girls get rewards he said

“It’s okay.” He muses as he pulls out of your mouth. “You have me. I’m better than God and I Iove you when you’re nasty like this.” He empathizes his point by dragging his wet, softening cock across your face. “Nii-sans perfect little angel.”

It’s so pitiful how the small praise makes your heart bloom and makes your hole flutter.

You’re coughing up Touya’s cum while your body shakes with Shigaraki’s thrusts.

“What about me hm? I’m fucking you. What? You don’t like it?” Tomura’s going harder now, determined to get his fair share of your attention.

“Shig-Shigaraki – shit. Slow down!”

You’re ignored by both of them once again. If anything, Shigaraki starts fucking you harder

.”Yo’ dustpot. You better pull out. That hole still belongs to me.”

The warning falls on deaf ears, Tomura is too far gone. “So warm, she’s squeezin’ me. Fuck. Fuck.’’ No thoughts, just your tight cunt.

“Gonna do whatever I tell you?” Dabi’s talking to you now, cerulean eyes boring into yours.

You nod still staring at him with absolute devotion.

“Touya-nii’s will be done? Huh? Has a nice ring to it.”

When you don’t respond he grabs you by your cheeks forming an open mouthed pout. “Say it.”

“Touya-nii’shhh will be done.” The words come out distorted but he’s satisfied

“Oh yeah? Then be good angel slut and come on his cock for me.”

You’re pushed over the edge, coming for the second time. Your walls clamp down around him as you sob out both their names in the form of incoherent babbling. It hits you as hard as the first one. You’re so caught up in your high you barely register the vice grip on your hips, the frantic humping against your ass. “Tight. Fuckin tight! Gotta breed! Breed this fucking hole.”

His hot, sticky cum floods your walls with, your throbbing cunt milking him for everything he’s got. He ruts against you a couple more times before removing himself completely.

You hear the familiar click of a camera. He’s sorry (not really) but the sight of your fucked out hole leaking globs of your cream and his cum was too hot for Shigaraki to not add to his spankbank.

“Thanks for that little sis.” Dabi is resting on the couch, head thrown back smoking a cigarette.

“Yeah thanks sweetness.” Both men, tuck themselves back into their pants

Everything feels so surreal. You cautiously move you hand between your thighs. Feeling your sore abused cunt in an attempt to grasp the reality of what happened.

Wait a minute.

It’s too much, that too sticky to be just your arousal down there. The more you squeeze, contracting your pelvic floor, the more it seems to seep out of you.

“You… You came inside.” You murmur as your eyes well up with tears. Whatever daze you were in seems to be broken by this revelation. Instead it’s replaced by fear of what the consequences of this might be.

Dabi smacks his friend upside the head. “You fuckin’ dumbass. I told you not to.”

Judging by his grin, Shigaraki doesn’t register the insult. He’s too busy basking in the afterglow. “Aw, don’t cry babe. You were gripping me so tight, I thought you wanted it. ‘S’okay, your Nii-san will get you a plan B”

“Fuck no. That’s your jizz inside her.” He scowls, eyes focused on the cum that’s leaking out of your spent pussy.

“C’mon Dabi don’t be like that. I’m broke right now.” Shigaraki pleads.

Touya huffs and rolls his eyes. “You can get yourself a morning after pill right? Tomura will pay you back.”

“Yeah babe. I promise.” He gives you a dopey smile.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s lying. Yeah, you know better now. You just nod as you pull up your panties, cringing at the sticky, wet sensation against your cunt.

“Me and Tomura are heading out. Make sure you clean all this up before anyone gets home.”

“B-but Touya-nii-“ you snivel.

“No buts. Clean up or you won’t be sitting comfy for a week. Are we clear?”

“Yes Touya-nii.” You reply defeated.

“And do it properly. Fuyumi has 3 brothers, she knows what a cumstain looks like and I don’t wanna have to do any explaining to her.”

You only nod, trying (and failing) to blink away tears.

Dabi rewards you with a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Best little sister in the world.” And he leaves you with that.

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shokami · 3 years

Text

I HATE ALL MEN...

pairing ; megumi fushiguro x reader

word count ; 2.8k

genre ; fluff to angst. established relationship!

warning(s) ; major character death (not descriptive). mentions of blood, injuries. minor spoilers to ep nineteen.

i hate all men, but when he loves me… i feel like i’m floating...

doubling over in laughter, you held your side as you let out several gasps of air. listening to the ridiculous spout of words between itadori and kugisaki, never failed to make you crack a wheeze or two.

your bubbly sounds echoing around the room quickly caught your boyfriend’s attention. those laughs were always capable of making him stop dead in his tracks, all so he could take a mental picture of that moment. your laughter slowly died down as you turned to look over your shoulder, finding fushiguro watching from afar. he looked at you with nothing but fondness in his gaze, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

fushiguro swore that you were the sunshine in human form. that genuine smile, and intoxicating laugh— was exactly what he would expect the sun to appear as. those were also the very things that had made him fall for you so long ago. he never spoke about it, but he was glad that being surrounded by curses, and the constant negativity invading your life, never dulled your happiness. he didn’t know what he would do without such a beaming sunshine.

“you know, i heard that staring isn’t polite.”

basking in your presence, and appearance caused megumi’s mind to momentarily drift off into an abyss of his own thoughts. so much so, that he hadn’t even noticed that you had approached him from across the training room.

“earth to megumi— hello?” you snapped your fingers in front of his face, rolling your eyes at the distant minded boy as his eyes suddenly snapped to yours “hi, yeah. there you are!”

“sorry, i was distracted.” fushiguro said simply, that same soft smile from earlier returning to his face.

to those who didn’t see him the way you did, or even to those who weren’t a part of your immediate friend group— no one saw fushiguro smile. ever. if you had to compare his daily facial expressions to someone, you’d probably say he reminded you of nanami. always straight faced, serious, and ready to get to the point. but his smile was never foreign to you.

despite the assumption to anyone else, a smile or laughter, or sense of joy from megumi was not a rare sight. in fact, it happened more and more than usual. his tormented soul began to lighten up, and feel free once more. some say it was because of you, but that wasn’t a credit you deserved to claim. not when itadori existed, and gave him the friends he deserved.

you were but a mere bonus in his life.

megumi was no stranger in displaying the fact that he fell for you based on your smile, and humor. he would tell you until he was blue in the face, but what he didn’t know was that the sight of that once rare grin is also what had you swooning in a matter of minutes.

leaning up towards his face, you pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek that quickly became the rosy color of the flowers outside in the garden. he was always so easily flustered, “distracted by what, hm?”

between you and megumi, neither one of you craved public displays of affection. you preferred keeping any acts of shared love just to yourselves, behind closed doors only accompanied by the soft glow of the moon.

that however, never stopped the occasional peck on the cheek, or subtle hand holding.

“what am i ever distracted by?”

“training? cursed techniques? shadow puppets?”

fushiguro snorted, “shadow puppets?”

several more giggles left your throat, sounding just the same as earlier, “yeah! you know, demon dogs… flying owl things—“

“divine dogs, and nue.” he interrupted.

“shadow puppets!”

“... shikigami.” megumi looked at you, quickly shaking his head at your antics and refusal to use his cursed techniques proper titles. “no, to all of those... i was distracted by you.”

you gasped loudly, drawing the attention of yuuji and nobara still standing across the room, “by me?! me oh my! not THE fushiguro megumi being distracted by little ‘ol me!”

yuuji and nobara bursted into a fit of laughter, enjoying the scrowl that crossed megumi’s face. though you loved him indefinitely, there was nothing more you enjoyed doing than bringing him embarrassment from your flare for dramatics.

“you’re worse than gojo, you know that?”

“worse than gojo how?” you jetted your bottom lip out, creating a fake pout.

“annoying. a nuisance. unnecessarily loud,” for what felt like the first time in your relationship, megumi took no care in sharing a moment of affection with you in the public eye as he leaned in to steal a kiss. “and a brat… but i suppose that’s why i love you.”

three words was all it took. three words and suddenly the world froze. you couldn’t see anything beyond megumi, you couldn’t hear your friends gasps’ in the background, and you struggled to exhale the breath stuck in your chest. love?

neither one of you knew love before each other, just like neither one of you dared to drop that damned four letter word until now… love terrified you. how could it not in this life? how could love not make you want to run in the opposite direction, fearing that the moment you loved— something would rip away that serenity.

“you… you love me?”

“i love you, y/n.”

another long pause.

your mind was racing, your heart beat felt like it would pulsate out of your chest at any given moment. why did the temperature skyrocket so suddenly? please don’t faint, you told yourself over and over.

surely, at this rate megumi thought he screwed everything up. did you not love him back? was the feeling not mutual? after months of being with one another, growing close, learning each other inside and out… did he read it all wrong?

“y/n, i’m sorr—“

“i love you too.”

that was the moment everything in this dark and gloomy world suddenly made sense. if you had nobody to love, what was the point of living?

megumi fushiguro may have seen you as the sun, and his never ending happiness… but he didn’t know that he was your reason for becoming that light. he would never understand the joy he brought to your dull world.

when he calls me pretty, i feel like somebody.

why is it always raining? you wondered.

to be fair, you didn’t hate the rain. you enjoyed it at times, and found peace in the sounds that came along with it; but it became a hassle when you’d have to travel across the jujutsu high campus. you cursed them for making the dorms such a distance from classes.

mentally preparing for the journey to your room, you tucked your books away into your bag to shield them from the downpour.

the onslaught of rain grew as you stepped out from the awning that protected you. an earthy smell wafted through your nostrils, filling your senses. the wetness against your skin was freezing, making goosebumps rise with each prick of the harsh rains. seconds ago you dreaded stepping out into the horrific weather, but now you stood perfectly still with your face tilted towards the sky enjoying the refreshingness.

all you could hear was the raging thunder up above, and it made you feel free. no sounds of other students could be heard, no screaming noises from the bustling city of tokyo, no ugly walling from cursed spirits. just the thunder, just your breathing, just the droplets of rain falling against the concrete and rooftops around you.

it was a beautiful moment.

which is why you dropped your bag, spread your arms as far as they could reach, and spun in the violent rainfall. the world slowed down for those few seconds.

“are you crazy?!”

your eyes snapped open as you turned to watch fushiguro rush towards you, an umbrella in hand.

“you’re going to get struck by lightning one of these days,” he picked up your bag and tossed it over his shoulder, before holding the umbrella over both of your bodies. “what the hell are you doing out here?”

smiling up at fushiguro, you stepped out from the umbrella once again with a laugh, “i’m enjoying the rain! enjoy it with me!”

you snatched the umbrella, quickly closing it and tossing it to the ground. letting all of your worries and fears fade away, you yearned to have one moment with megumi that wasn’t ripped away by the darkness of your world… one normal moment.

one normal moment where you were just kids playing in the freezing rain.

expecting him to look annoyed at your antics like usual, you were pleasantly surprised to find him matching your smile and looking at you with nothing but bliss.

“you’re so annoying.”

“and you love me,” you grinned.

“... and i love you.”

fushiguro stepped towards you, encasing his arms around your waist as he picked you up and spun you around in a circle. laughter filled the air, and you felt nothing but joy.

time froze as the two of you basked in your youth, enjoying only the company of one another and the rainstorm. it felt like an eternity before your feet met the ground once more. your hair and clothes were soaked, strands of your own hair felt plastered to your face as you giggled. megumi pushed those strands aside, and replaced them with smothering kisses.

“you look different when your hair is wet,” you told him as you pushed it all out of his eyes.

“and you look just as pretty as ever.”

ever since your relationship with megumi began, he’s slowly come further out of that shell that he placed himself in. seeing him be able to enjoy himself like this… it brought a new type of happiness.

kissing his nose quickly, you looked up at the sky as the rain finally lightened up, “you know, if i didn’t know any better i’d say i’m wearing off on you.”

“is that so?” megumi asked, picking up your bag again along with the umbrella.

“mhm! you’ve let loose more,” you huddled close to him underneath the safety of the umbrella for warmth, “finally taking back your youth.”

megumi chuckled, holding you close. “i guess i have my beautiful sun to thank for that, don’t i?”

even when we fade eventually to nothing...

everything was blurry. there was an ache spreading throughout your body, and it felt as if someone was landing a blow to your rib cage over and over again. there was barely any fight left in you, but you would continue to push forward until someone got to you. surely one of the teachers would find you soon, right? of course they would! gojo must’ve been on his way.

that’s what you thought.

it’s what you desperately wanted to believe, but as the time passed you began to think their fight had just begun. you knew what was happening back at the school, you were there when that special grade stepped out and attacked you and inumaki.

the problem was, everyone knew you weren’t strong enough to fight in that battle. inumaki knew. before you knew it, megumi’s divine dog was shoving you away as inumaki commanded you to run in the opposite direction. damn him.

you wanted to curse him for sending you away with the shikigami, but deep down you knew he was right. there were still lower level curses running around, and they needed to be dealt with… but you didn’t foresee coming face to face with mahito as he made his get away from jujutsu high.

“your friends left you all alone? what a shame.” he spoke with a bubbly laugh, watching the blood trickle down from your hairline.

you wanted to speak, you wanted to charge at him and rip him to shreds for everything he’s done. yet, all you could do was cry out in agony as you fell to your knees. every part of your body felt like it would combust into flames at any given second, you weren’t sure if it was from the pain or the sickening warmth of your blood soaking through your clothes. your eyes became heavier, struggling to focus on the laughing maniac in front of you.

the shikigami shielded you from mahito, a deep growl emitting from its body as it took a stance to protect you. the divine creature had one job, and it was to protect you when he was not with megumi; but you couldn’t stand by and watch another one of his shikigami be destroyed. not for your sake.

“return to megumi.” you reach out, your fingertips barely ghosting over it’s fur.

with a sad whine, the divine dog gave you one last look before disappearing from the air. he was safe, and that is all that mattered. he could protect megumi now, and be far away from the monster you faced.

“that demon dog could’ve been your only chance of survival, y/n!” mahito laughed again, causing you to grimace at the sound.

“divine. dog. you scum,” you made no move to try and stand, nor defend yourself. the wounds in your chest, and side were fatal and crippling. there was nothing left for you to do, other than to accept your fate.

as a jujutsu sorcerer, you are taught to live without regret. to live without fear of death. to accept it, when your time comes… but you were terrified.

what kind of cruel life was this?

this was why you did not want to love fushiguro… because every sweet thing, has a bitter end.

you couldn’t remember when your eyes had closed, or when all of the pain in your body seemed to go numb. all you knew is that when you awoke, mahito was gone. you were face to face with gojo as he carried you away from the scene.

your teacher noticed your eyes drifting open almost immediately. for the first time, you saw him look concerned. he wasn’t smiling, or laughing like usual— he looked like he was in as much pain as you felt.

“gojo…” you coughed, blood quickly filled your lungs and nearly made you collapse at the loss of breath.

“save your energy, yn.”

your eyes slowly shut once more, the willpower to survive was fleeting, “tell him… tell him i love him?”

in a whisper that you barely caught, gojo tried his best to scold you for your shitty goodbye, “you’re not going to die, you’re staying here.”

“protect him, satoru… protect them all.”

they say that when you die, you experience a flashback of your entire life in seconds. that was the worst lie you had ever heard. aside from finally escaping the pain, all you saw was a blinding flash of white and the memory of the very last kiss you ever shared with megumi…

… you will always be my favorite form of loving.

weeks after your funeral, megumi visited your grave every single day. each day, a new flower was brought from the garden of jujutsu high. the garden where he grew the nerve to ask you to be his girlfriend, the garden where you kissed for the very first time, said your first i love you, and danced in the rain as if your youth depended on it.

an array of flowers built up around your grave, and you all swore that before you knew it? megumi and nobara would have their own garden to tend to around you.

you hoped they would, and that it would bring them joy… just as you once had.

staring down at where you laid in the ground, megumi placed down the head of a single lotus flower on the front of your tombstone.

ETERNAL SUN Y/N L/N.

friend. family. student. lover.

cherished by many, adored by all.

in life, or in death, you would always be the eternal sunlight to megumi fushiguro. no matter the consequences to your spirit, you vowed to never leave his side and to always protect him and your friends.

a loyal guardian from the other side. their guide.

your spirit smiled, glancing from megumi’s tear streaked face to the sight of the moon as you placed a hand on his shoulder. being a part of the supernatural world now, fushiguro could sense your presence.

“the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?” megumi mumbled to your grave, the rain pouring down around the umbrella you once shared together.

you whispered to the wind, “i can die happy…”

authors note ; this was so fun to write. this is the first thing i’ve written that’s over 1k words and posted. if megumi is ooc, mind your business </3 i’m trying to learn him as a character xoxo

reblogs are appreciated!!

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isbergillustration · 2 years

Text

This is a Ghost Story: Part IV

A few days go by without much communication from Ghost. They’re there, I can feel their presence. The slightly oppressive nature of the air. The occasional banging of a door, or a TV request spelled out in fridge magnet letters. They like comedies, I’ve realised, and documentaries. Things that do not not involve any too serious or depressing themes, which makes sense. If I was a tortured soul forced to stay in the place where I died in a horrific accident I would probably also want to be calmed and amused and generally have my mind taken off of it. So it isn’t until I get home from work the following Sunday that I find a new piece of art.

I don’t see it at first, because it’s not on any of the big canvases, but I left my sketchbook open on the coffee table last night, and when I sit down with a cup of tea, ready to zone out and scroll mindlessly through my mobile for a while, the dark red catches my eye. It’s a portrait. It’s still in blood, mainly, but it looks like they’ve added some pencils. The skin is shades of blood red, some parts covered with dark squiggle lines. The eyes have wide pale irises, no pupils. Like the eyes I saw that one night, when they were being a very sympathetic sleep paralysis demon. Oh. It’s a self portrait. So the red skin, the squiggly lines… they died in a fire. So it’s a very- very late self portrait. Oh.

I don’t realise that I’m crying until a tear drops onto the paper. I dab it off quickly with my sleeve, and set the sketchbook down. It’s funny, feeling grief for someone who died before you were born. Someone who you know to still exist. Knowing that they went through something so horrific, and never got any peace, that their soul was trapped in the place they died, a burnt out skeleton of their old home. At least, presumably it was their home. I have, true to my word, not looked up any information on them, or the fire.

Sniffing and wiping my eyes, I look at it again. At their face. It’s a nice looking face, structurally speaking. Given the circumstances. It makes me want to know what it looked like before. Is that bad? Maybe it is. Wanting to to picture some idealised and real version of them, as opposed to what they have chosen to show me. Still, I can’t help but wonder.

“This is- this is you, right?” I ask.

I’ve gotten pretty used to talking out loud to an empty room, now. It felt very silly in the beginning, but I know they’re here, somewhere. They did say they could not move beyond this floor, so I suppose it’s possible they’re hanging out in one of the other flats. There are five others, I think, four of them occupied, as far as I’m aware. But usually it feels like they’re here, whatever that means.

On the table, where the spirit board permanently lives, I see the planchette shift slightly, before slowly sliding to yes.

“I’m so sorry this happened to you,” I tell them, “it must have been horrifying.”

Yes

“I am glad you showed me, though. It’s nice to put a face to the, uh, ominous presence. But friendly ominous presence! It’s sort of… It’s nice not to be entirely alone here. It weirdly makes this place feel kind of safer? I don’t know if that’s your intention, but it’s nice to know someone would notice if I dropped dead here, even if there isn’t much you could do about it.”

W-o-u-l-d-c-a-r-e

“Aww. Thank you. I guess you know a lot more about me than I you, huh? Took me ages to even realise you were here. Sorry about that. I didn’t, you know, didn’t believe in ghosts. Guess there’s still a chance you’re a really persistent delusion.”

“That’s exactly what a delusion would say,” I argue, quite reasonably, I think.

Ghost doesn’t comment further, which I’m not entirely sure how to interpret. I choose to think it means no, they are definitely not a delusion. Although, the idea that all the people who have ever died are watching us constantly is pretty terrifying.

“Does everyone become a ghost, or just some people? I mean, this is an old building on an old plot, right, so a bunch of people must have died here throughout the years?”

D-o-n-t-k-n-o-w-n-o-t-s-e-e-n-a-n-y-o-t-h-e-r-s

“Oh. Oh, that sounds very lonely.”

Yes

“So why did you tell me to leave?”

W-h-a-t

“The get out while you still can business. Written in blood.”

Y-o-u-w-e-r-e-l-a-t-e

“Oh. That’s, uh, that’s a very unsettling way to phrase that, buddy.”

S-o-r-r-y

“And you scared away the previous couple of tenants, right? Why do that if you were lonely?”

D-i-d-n-o-t-l-i-k-e-t-h-e-m

L-o-u-d

“Yeah, that’s fair. I guess it’s like having to cycle through flatmates to find someone who works out, only you don’t get a say in the selection process, you just have to try to get rid of them. I get how that is frustrating. Please tell me, if I’m being annoying. Maybe in words, and not ominous messages on the wall, if I’m doing something to bother you. We do have to coexist here for a while yet, so lets try to get along as well as we can, huh?”

M-u-s-i-c-t-a-s-t-e-b-a-d

“Woah! Okay, harsh. But I’m open to listening to my music with headphones, if you would prefer that.”

P-l-e-a-s-e

“Okay. You’re coming off as a little judgey here, but I guess music tastes have changed in the last couple of decades. But see? This is productive. Now I know you don’t want to listen to my music, so you won’t have to. See, there’s something to this communication business after all, right?”

W-h-a-t-e-v-e-r

I laugh at that, and the curtains rustle ominously in response. I wonder how old they were when they died. The skin in the drawing is too blistered and scarred to really make a guess, beyond having the bone structure of an adult rather than the child, but this makes me think they’re definitely not like an old grandparent who died or something. Maybe eventually they will feel comfortable enough to tell me. For now, though, this is progress. This is good.

#ghost story #slice of life horror #sketchbook #blood #drawing #my art #my writing #artists on tumblr #illustration

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drarrily-we-row-along · 3 years

Text

Day 70: Patronus

"I'm doomed," Draco hissed at Pansy as they left the Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom. "The final is in less than a month! How could Higgins spring this on us?"

"Calm down," Pansy said.

"Calm down? Calm down?! Pansy, you recall that I have a dark mark don't you? The final is half of our grade! I'm going to fail."

She shook her head, "You're not going to fail," she informed him calmly. "You'll learn Draco, you have over three weeks."

"But I'm an ex-death eater," he whispered, as though anyone could ever forget. "Death eaters can't cast a patronus, you know that."

"That's not true," a voice behind them piped up, making Draco jump.

"For Circe's sake, Potter, stop sneaking around," he grumbled.

The other boy shrugged, "Sorry," he said unrepentantly, "Couldn't help but overhear what you were saying."

Draco rolled his eyes, "Oh, you just couldn't help it, huh?"

He flicked a careless grin at Draco, his dimple showing, and as always, Draco didn't know quite what to do with that. "I'm just saying that death eaters could cast a patronus."

"How would you know?" Draco asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Snape could cast one, and Merlin knows that you did far less horrific shite than he did," Potter replied as he sauntered past them and into the common room. "I could help you, if you want," he called over his shoulder before walking out of view.

Pansy opened her mouth and he cut her off, "Don't," he said, holding up a hand.

(Read more below the cut)

She cackled, "I bet there's a thing or two he could help you with."

"Why am I friends with you?" he groaned. "I'll figure it out myself," he added with a haughty sniff.

---------

A week and a half passed and Draco was no closer than he'd been the day she'd first assigned this task to them as part of their final. Draco sat in the library, pouring over textbooks that were supposed to help to teach you to cast one but none of them seemed to help.

"Hey," Potter said as he dropped into the chair across from Draco like they were friends or something. He'd been doing it since February and Draco still couldn't understand it. "How are you?"

"Awful," Draco replied with a groan. "I'm going to fail my Defense final and then I'm going to go to prison because passing all of my classes is part of my parole," he said, the words pouring out of his mouth without his consent. "And I never imagined that passing my classes would be a problem, but-"

"Draco," Potter said, his voice calm and unruffled, "Let me help you."

"You can't," he said shaking his head.

Potter tilted his head consideringly, "Maybe not but would it hurt to try? I've taught like over twenty other teens to do it," he added.

Draco bit his lip, what could it really hurt?

"Come on," Potter said, standing up and holding out a hand to pull Draco to his feet. "If it fails you can always come back and read through dusty books some more."

"Fine," he sighed, reaching out and taking Harry's hand, a thrill tingling up his arm at the contact.

Harry didn't let go right away as he started walking and Draco's heart tripped along inside of his chest as he stumbled after him.

"Where are we going?" Draco asked.

He released his hand but gave him a little smile, "we can't very well practice it in the library, can we?"

Then Harry took off running and Draco had no choice but to jog after him, spluttering indignantly. "Why are we running?"

"Because it feels good," Harry replied as he raced down the stairs and outside.

When they reached just the edge of the forest, where there weren't any signs of other students Potter stopped and took off his cloak, enlarged it, and laid down on it.

"What are you doing?"

Harry just patted the cloak beside him.

"Potter," he said, hands on his hips.

The other boy opened his eyes and said, "Trust the process. Come lay down."

With a sigh he laid down on the cloak and stared up at the sun peaking through the branches.

"Relax," Harry whispered, covering Draco's hand with his own.

Somehow, it soothed Draco and made him panic all at once but at least it wasn't the normal kind anxiety, it actually made him feel a weird sort of excited anticipation.

"Think of a happy memory," he murmured, "A really happy one that you can feel all the way down to your toes."

He was quiet, trying to think, "It's been a while since I've been that happy," he confessed.

Harry's hand squeezed his gently and he thought this was probably as happy a moment as any. He focused on the feelings in his body.

"When you're ready," Harry said a few minutes later, "we'll stand up and try to cast. You've already got the mechanics down, it's just about getting the feelings right."

Draco nodded, then pushed himself to his feet.

The other boy stood behind him and rested a hand on his shoulder, "Think of your happy moment," he murmured. "Let it fill you up."

He inhaled, thinking of the way Harry's body felt next to his, of the warmth of his hand, the tingles in the pit of his stomach; and then he cast. "Expecto Patronum," he said, circling his wand.

A thin, silvery mist appeared from the end of his wand and he stared at it in shock, "Did you-?" he started.

"Well done," Harry encouraged. "See. You can do it."

"Can you show me yours once?" he asked. "It would be helpful to see your technique," and while this was the truth, it wasn't the whole truth; mostly Draco was just curious to see Harry's patronus for himself.

Harry nodded slowly, "Just, don't tell anyone."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's changed," Harry replied "and I don't mind you knowing but I don't know quite what it means and I'd rather figure it out before the press catches wind of it."

"You don't have to show me," he ventured.

The other boy shook his head and took a deep breath "Expecto patronum," he said and his wand produced what appeared to be a fox of some sort. "Hermione thinks it's an arctic fox," Harry said as they watched it lope around the clearing.

"It's beautiful," Draco breathed.

"Thanks," Harry said with a little smile. "She tells me it's because I've become more withdrawn, that I had to be more reliant on myself," he shrugged.

"Do you miss your stag?"

He nodded, "It was nice to be connected to my mum and dad, you know? To have something in common with them."

"I'm sorry," Draco said softly.

Harry shrugged, "There must be a bigger reason," he said. "I hope, anyway." His fox dissipated and Harry turned to him, "Let's see yours again."

-------

Over the next two weeks, Draco's patronus charm got stronger, and once he thought he'd caught the glimpse of a what appeared to be a dog's nose, perhaps, but nothing more.

"The final's tomorrow," he told Harry as they laid out under the trees, "And I still haven't been able to conjure it. I'm going to fail."

"What's your happy memory?" Harry asked.

"What's your's?" Draco countered.

Harry hummed thoughtfully, "It changes," he said. "The first time I cast one it was of my mum's voice. I don't even know if it was a real memory of not," he added.

"What about the last one you cast?" Draco asked.

The other boy turned his head to look at Draco, "It was that you were giving me a chance," he confessed softly with a little smile. "Will you tell me yours?" he asked.

Draco bit his lip, "Just this," he whispered finally. "There's something about you that just," he trailed off, searching for the right descriptor, "Thrills me. And it used to be in all the wrong ways, but..." he trailed off feeling a little shy and embarrassed.

"But now it feels a little bit like flying," Harry whispered. "At least that's how it feels for me."

The corner of his mouth tipped up, "Me too."

Harry rolled onto his side, "Can I kiss you?"

Draco nodded up at him and Harry leaned down to press his mouth softly to Draco's, his fingers brushing the hair lightly back from his face.

He reached out and pulled the other boy a little closer, tilting his head to find a better angle. After a minute, he pulled back, "Wait a second," he said as he stood up and set himself up to cast. He let the kiss wash over him again in his memory, filling him up with boundless joy, and the silver mist came out thicker than ever before.

Harry stood up and pressed a soft kiss to the back of his neck. "Try again," he murmured.

Draco took a deep breath, feeling the heat radiating off of Harry's body. "Expecto Patronum!" he said once more and his patronus burst from the end of his wand.

He stared at it, hardly daring to believe what he was seeing.

Harry's breath caught as he leaned forward, pressing against Draco's back to get a closer look. "I hoped so," he said softly as Draco's little arctic fox trotted around them.

"Expecto Patronum," Harry said and his arctic fox appeared, making a beeline for Draco's.

Draco leaned back against Harry, "What does mean that they're the same?"

"My mum's and dad's were the same animal," he said, "and Snapes was the same as her's."

"What does it mean?" he asked again, he had his suspicions but he needed to hear Harry say it first.

Harry cleared his throat, "Well I don't want speak for you, but I think it means that at the very least, I'm in love with you."

Draco blinked, then turned himself around in Harry arms, "I think I'm in love with you, too," he confessed with a smile.

And this was only the start of the many, many ways that they would spend the rest of their lives making one another happy.

-----------

Thanks so much @oviovs, for the prompt! It's not quite established at the beginning but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Thank you for all of the love and encouragement you leave on my little stories. <3

Day 69: Soaked | Day 71: Return

#100 days of drarry drabbles #drarry #drarry ficlet #drarry drabble #Day 70 #Patronus #hogwarts 8th year

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wicked-mind · 3 years

Text

Betrayed: Chapter Two

Summary: Everybody thought Steve’s sister had passed away decades ago. But when you show up at the facility and try to attack Bucky, there are questions to be answered.

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word count: 4.9k

Warning: A bit of violence, talk of kidnapping and torture, talk of surgery, a hint of PTSD

Master List

All Writings Masterlist

NOTE: This story is set post Endgame, but Natasha is still alive and Steve never went back in time to be with Peggy. Although I have always been a fan of creative writing, this is my first time writing based on any movies/series. Any feedback would be appreciated (: Enjoy!

*gif not mine

CHAPTER TWO- Sunflowers and Pain

Steve made his way into the med-bay, where Clint was caring to the wound on Bucky’s neck. He had it bandaged, but still looked concerned at the wound, before turning his eyes over to Steve, “A warning that your sister is a vampire would’ve been nice.” He joked, crossing his arms as he walked towards Steve, “I was able to stitch it shut, bandage it well. But… It’s blistering. And his veins are becoming more visibly black around the wound like they’re inflamed. To me it looks like poison. Sam is trying to get Bruce to come in to take a look at it.”

Steve listened, nodding slowly. He was more concerned with talking to Bucky about what his sister had told him than the injuries. “Give us a minute.” He said to Clint, his eyes never leaving Bucky’s face who laid unconscious on the medical bed. Clint looked at Bucky, then to Steve, “I’ll be right outside with Sam.” He said, exiting through the glass doors which shut behind him.

Steve approached the bedside of Bucky, looking down at him. Bucky’s forehead wrinkled and he slowly opened his eyes, looking up to Steve, “Is Y/N okay?” He asked his friend, not even bothered by his own injuries. He was concerned with Y/N. He missed her. His heart ached from the moment he saw her standing there, covered in dirt and blood. He didn’t even care about her wounding him, just wanting to know that she was okay. It was all he ever wanted, to know that she was alright.

“She’s fine.” Steve said shortly, still looking down at Bucky who was shifting to sit up, wincing at the pain in his neck. “She’s calmed down now, sleeping. She said some things Bucky. About you.” His nostrils flared a little bit as he remembered his sister frantically pacing his room hyperventilating.

Bucky looked at Steve in confusion, noting his anger. He shook his head slightly, “What did she say? I haven’t seen her since the morning I left for deployment and we made that….” He paused, gauging Steve’s anger before continuing, “That promise.” He finished.

Steve shook his head, “So it’s true. You two did have some sort of promise.” He folded his arms, still keeping his eyes on Bucky, “She said you reached out to her after you returned home from deployment. Told her to meet you for what sounds like a date,” he studied his friend’s face for any signs he remembered this, “She said you grabbed her, kidnapped her. Took her somewhere where people played with her brain.” He said between a clenched jaw as he quoted his sister. Steve didn’t get angry often, but always had been defensive when it came to his sister, “She remembers screaming at you to help her and you turned your back on her.”

Bucky shook his head as he heard the story, “No.. no no…” He said softly, looking at Steve, “You have to believe me.. I didn’t do that.. I wouldn’t do that to anybody let alone her…” he paused, looking at his hands, before looking back to Steve wide-eyed, “They must’ve figured out she was your sister… Hydra… used me as their soldier to get her. To get to you. I didn’t know, Steve..” He promised, still shaking his head at the story. Was this true? Did he really betray Y/N and his best friend like that? Why couldn’t he remember? Bucky thought about her everyday of his deployment, excited when he got her letters. They reminded him he had something to fight for and return to. The memory of their promise, the way she sat with him during the sunrise. The one and only kiss they shared before he left. Did Hydra really make him betray the girl he was falling deeper and deeper in love with? Rage suddenly filled Bucky, realizing how real this situation was. He betrayed her. Y/N wanted him dead for it. He felt as though he deserved it after what he had done to her. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the rage that was filling inside of him, “What did they do to her?” He asked through clenched teeth.

Steve watched Bucky, seeing he was genuine about his feelings and regret, “I don’t know. All she said was they messed with her head. Then you left. I don’t know what they did to her. Maybe they did some experiments like they did to the Maximoff twins, to you.” He sighed, running his hand through his blonde hair as he starts to pace the room, “When Bruce is here, we will have him look into it more. He will probably know more about your wound and maybe be able to figure out what is going on with Y/N. Until then, just keep your distance from her. She thinks you’re a traitor.” He said, looking to Bucky and seeing that those words hurt him, “Her words, not mine.” That didn’t help Bucky feel better, only worse.

Bucky shook his head, moving to stand up from the medical bed, “No, Steve, I have to talk to her. Help her understand.” He said but was pushed back down by Steve’s hand, “Please. I can’t sit here knowing she is here without explaining.. I can’t let her think I betrayed her.” He pleaded, wincing at the pain in his neck.

“You can’t, Buck. Her emotions are everywhere. She sees you, hears your name, she snaps. And you’ve seen what can happen when she snaps.” Steve cautioned, “For now, stay away from her.”

Those words stung Bucky. How could he stay away from her? He grew up with her, and as that happened, his feelings grew also for Y/N, “Fine. I’ll stay away.. for now.” He said to Steve softly, half lost in his own thoughts. The pain he felt in his chest felt worst than his wound. He wanted to help Y/N understand that it wasn’t him, it was Hydra in his head that made him do those awful things. He wouldn’t have walked away from her screams. He would never be able to do that. He wanted to see her again. Before last night, the last memory he had of her was them together watching the sunrise, sharing their kiss. But now, the last memory he has of her is horrific. Y/N covered in filth, pale, red eyes. And she attacked him. He didn’t want to remember her like that, he couldn’t remember her like that.

Steve turned as the door opened, Sam walking in to inform them Bruce would be here soon. Steve nodded, “Let me know when Banner gets here, we need answers.” He said, “Keep an eye on him..” He gestured towards Bucky as walked passed Sam to exit the room. He had to check on Y/N, see if she was still resting. He hoped she was having comforting dreams, not nightmares of the things Hydra had put her though. He was still seething with rage after hearing what happened to his sister. He felt guilty. If he wasn’t Captain America, then his sister may have been safe. He should’ve taken more precautions to protect her from his life. He wasn’t the one that needed looking after anymore, Y/N was and he felt like he failed.

Y/N was sleeping soundly. Not a nightmare in sight, which was odd. She usually had nightmares of the experiments Hydra did on her, of the things they made her do. The worst of all nightmares though were the ones that replayed over and over of Bucky taking her and handing her over to Hydra. How he watched as they hurt her, turning and walking away from her like she was nothing to him as she screamed for his help. But right now, there wasn’t a nightmare. Just a dream of her in a field of sunflowers, smiling as she picked a bouquet. Being able to see her brother again had changed her mindset to being hopeful for a happier future. She walked in the field, gathering up only the flowers that were fully bloomed. She must’ve had five or six in her hand already. She went to pick another one, but paused. It was dripping blood off its petals. She looked at it confused, tilting her head slightly. “Y/N..” She heard, looking up across the field. But there he was. Again. Bucky. His hair in his blue eyes, staring at her. His metal arm glistened in the sunlight, the red star shown brightly in the rays. “No…” She whispered, dropping the bouquet, knowing what was coming next. He would grab her, take her to Hydra, and they would torture her. She turned to run, but as she turned he was right there in front of her. He looked down at her apologetically, “Y/N, I’m so sorry….” He grabs her arm with his metal one, making her wince. “Please don’t do this..” She whispered to him, begging, “Bucky please…” Her eyes slowly filled with tears threatening to run down her cheeks. He looked pained at the sight of her tears, but tightened his grip on her arm, starting to drag her, “Please forgive me, Y/N…. I’m so sorry…”

Y/N awakened from her dream suddenly, sitting up and yelling, “NO!” Her breathing was frantic. Wanda jumped out of her chair at the sight of Y/N finally awakening. She quickly sat on the bed next to her, placing a hand on Y/N’s back, “Shh.. Y/N, its okay. You’re safe..” Wanda said softly to her. Y/N looked at Wanda for a moment, but then quickly hurled herself into Wanda’s arms for a hug. She felt safe with Wanda, like they had an understanding of each other.

Steve entered the room, seeing Y/N huddled in Wanda’s arms. He quickly moved to the other side of the bed, “She okay? What happened?” He asked Wanda, concern in his voice.

Wanda nodded, “She’s okay, just a bad dream.” She spoke softly, running her fingers along Y/N’s hair to calm her. She had seen Y/N’s nightmare while looking into her thoughts. But she couldn’t push deep enough to figure out what happened to her in the past. She couldn’t see what had made her this way, what Hydra had done to her. Y/N reminded Wanda of herself when she came out of the experiments. She had her twin brother though, while Y/N had nobody except Hydra.

“Y/N,” Steve said softly, not wanting to alarm his sister who seemed to be in a fragile state, “We need to talk about some stuff. Are you up for it?�� He gently placed a hand on his sister’s shoulder, causing her to turn out of Wanda’s hug and look at him, nodding slowly.

“Can Wanda stay?” Y/N asks softly, which Steve nodded. He understood how important it was for Y/N to have some sort of support system right now to feel safe. Y/N looked at Wanda who also nodded with an encouraging smile, before moving to sit on the bed in the center again. She brought her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms tightly around them as she leaned her chin on her knees.

Steve sat down on the bed by her, figuring out a way to word what he needed to say without setting off his sister. “We need to talk about him.” He said, watching Y/N carefully for her reaction. But there wasn’t one, she just simply nodded slowly, “You bit him, do you remember? It looks like he was poisoned by your bite.” He said, waiting for validation.

“Technically, it’s venom, not poison. And he deserves the suffering it’ll bring.” Y/N corrected, her tone soft but steady. She kept staring straight ahead of her at the wall, “He will start to have hallucinations as it runs through his veins, making his insides burn, until it kills him.”

“Okay, venom, gotcha.” Steve nodded slowly, “Is there an antidote?” He knew the question may get him into some trouble with his sister. She obviously wanted Bucky to to suffer, and honestly Steve wanted him to suffer a little bit for what happened to his sister, but not like this. He knew Bucky’s brain was already torturing him enough.

Y/N looked at her brother, her eyes narrowing, “Of course there’s an antidote. But I won’t give it to him. He deserves it.” She stated again, a hint of anger in her voice that her brother would ask for an antidote to her venom. She had decades to think about how she hated him. How Bucky betrayed her. And how she believed these feelings and nightmares would go away if he was no more.

Steve shook his head, “You don’t understand, Y/N. That wasn’t him that did that to you. He wouldn’t do that to you, to me. It was Hydra. They were in his head, making him do that, just like to you. He doesn’t even remember. The last thing he remembers of you is your promise.” He said, the last words still annoying him. How could the two most important people to him keep such secret about their feelings? But deep down, he knew he already knew the truth about how they felt about each other.

Y/N looked to Wanda for validation of what her brother just said. Could he really not remember the trauma he had caused her? How he betrayed her trust, her feelings? Wanda silently nodded to what Steve was saying, knowing it was important for Y/N to know the truth, especially when Bucky’s life hung in the balance. She didn’t want that burden of murder to hang over Y/N’s head, she knew what that felt like. Y/N sat in silence for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip as she debated, her eyes returning to the wall in front of her. She had a choice here. To finally get the revenge she dreamed about since the day she was taken, or to save the man who made this life for her. She took a deep breath, releasing her legs from her grasp and looking to Steve, “I want to see him.” She said, almost bitterly, but also with a hint of fear.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea….” Steve hesitated, watching his sister closely, “Just give me the antidote and you two can talk later in a contained area.” He bargained, worried about what would happen if he let his sister see Bucky.

Y/N tilted her head as she stared at her brother’s face, “He’s already dying. I have no need to attack him again. And I’m not giving you the antidote until I see him. If what you say is true, if he is the Bucky…” She forced his names through her lips, almost hissing it out, “we remember, then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.” She promised him, her red eyes piercing through Steve’s blue ones.

Steve nodded, “Fine.. come with me. Wanda, you want to tag along?” He asked, knowing it was more of an order than a question. He may need Wanda to help with his sister if things got out of hand.

Together, the three made their way into med-bay where Bucky was. Clint looked between Y/N and Steve, wondering if this was the best idea. “He seems to be hallucinating about the war, some letters, and sunflowers. His temperature has spiked to almost dangerous temperatures. If it keeps rising, his organs will shut down and liquify.” He informed Steve.

Y/N looked at Clint as he spoke, a small smile forming on her lips as she heard of Bucky suffering. This wasn’t like her. She would never wish ill upon anybody. But things had changed and she had planned this revenge for so long. She followed Steve to Bucky’s side, tilting her head as she looked at him. She heard Clint click his arrow again, her eyes darting to him, “Do you have a more powerful arrow? Because the last one tickled.” She said with a smile. Clint huffed and rolled his eyes a bit, “Yeah, well, the next one won’t just tickle.” He warned.

Y/N looked down at Bucky who was panting, sweat beading down his face and arms. She looked at his neck, reaching to remove the bandage that covered her toxic bite. The wound seemed to have opened more and grown, as the veins around it turned black and webbed down his arms and up his neck. She could see him suffer like she had. She looked over when the door opened to the med-bay again, but this time a new face. A large green guy stood at the door, trying to get a read on the room. She assumed this was the hulk she had read about. She returned her gaze to Bucky, before poking near his wound, making him wince to wake up with a groan, “Can you not..” He whispered weakly, lifting a hand to swat hers away, opening his eyes slowly. He met your gaze, “Y/N…” He reached his other hand up to touch her face to see if you were real, but she flinched away from his touch.

“So you do remember me..” Y/N said, on her guard. She was fighting the urge to just rip him apart as he laid there.

“Of course, Doll…. I was just writing you a letter, planning what we should go eat and do when I get home.. Did you get the sunflowers I had Bex buy? Wait…. Why are you here? It’s dangerous.. You should be at home” He said, looking around. It was obvious he was hallucinating that he was still at war.

“Steve says you’re still you. That you have Hydra in your head that made you do all those awful things to me.” She leaned in closer to his face, her red eyes piercing into his blue ones, Her hand quickly moved to grip his neck, her thumb pressing into his wound which made him flinch, but not push her away, “If it was up to me, you’d suffer and get what you deserve. But, Steve has asked me to spare you. Give you a chance. I don’t think you deserve it.” She hissed out, anger clear. She heard Hawkeye move towards them, not wanting it to get violent again. She held up her hand to stop him, releasing Bucky’s neck, “But, I will help you. Not for you. Not for this team. But for Steve.” She said softly. She then scrapes her wrist with her fingernail, bright red blood forming. Everybody watched her confused. Y/N moved her wrist above his wound, her blood hitting the gash. As the drops hit, the skin sizzled, but slowly grew back together. The black veins disappearing and returning to normal. The wound slowly disappeared, leaving only a silver scar in the shape of her teeth. Steve passed his sister a bandage for her wrist. She placed it over the gash and stepped away from Bucky as he just stared at her. Y/N turned to Steve, “He’ll be fine. For now.” She said, walking past him to stand by Wanda, who gave her a small smile.

“That can’t be sanitary…” Clint muttered as he watched the wound disappear before his eyes. Banner just watched, his eyes flickering between Bucky and Y/N. Everybody watched as Bucky slipped back into unconsciousness. Banner cleared his throat and looked to Steve, “So, uh, Cap… You needed my help?” He reminded Steve.

Steve nods towards Banner, motioning for him to follow into the next med-bay room with him for some privacy, also giving his sister a look for her to follow. Of course Wanda followed Y/N in, she hadn’t left your side for hours, feeling oddly protective and connected to you. Once the four of them were in the privacy of a different room, Steve shut the blinds so his sister couldn’t see Bucky anymore, hoping it would help her remain calm. “Bruce, this is Y/N Rogers. My sister.” He introduced.

Bruce looked at Steve in confusion and shock for a moment, then looked to Y/N, “You know, I knew I saw a resemblance. Nice to meet you, I’m Bruce Banner.” He smiled at her before he turned his attention back to Steve, “Now that his wound is taken care of, what can I do for you Cap?” He asked. Obviously he was warned about saying Bucky’s name.

“I need you to help look into Y/N. Hydra took her, did something with her brain according to her. You know more about this stuff than me.” He informed, before looking to his sister, “Is that alright with you, some tests?”

Y/N nodded, not feeling threatened at all. Bruce may look scary as the hulk, but she could tell from the way he spoke and moved that he wasn’t a threat to her. She approached the med-bay table, laying herself down.

Bruce asked for the room, leading Steve and Wanda out. They opened the blinds again so they could see into the room to observe you from the other room, just in case something happened.

“Okay, Y/N, I’m going to scan your brain, okay?” He asked for permission, a small comforting smile on his green lips. Y/N nodded at him, checking for her brother on the other side of the window who nodded at her to let her know things were going to be okay. She had forgotten that Bucky was now in the same room with her brother and Wanda, focused on the scan. She hated laying here, it brought back painful memories. But at least it wasn’t in some bunker with dim lighting.

Bruce brought a machine by her head, placing it around her skull. The Avengers team had all the new technology which made scanning any part of the body for an in depth look super easy. It would show Bruce everything from her skin, to her skull, and into her brain. The machine hummed to life, causing Y/N to flinch a little at the sound. Bruce gave her another comforting smile, before looking at the holographic screen that appeared, “We are also going to take a blood sample, okay? Just a little poke.” Bruce said, to which Y/N nodded. A needle come down and extracted some of her blood from her arm. Bruce was looking at the skin under her hair first on her head, then going to examine her skull, before looking at her brain. They were in there for almost an hour as he looked over her scans and blood sample, a focused look on his face. “I’m going to go talk to Steve, I’ll be right back with him, okay?” Bruce said to which Y/N nodded slowly, continuing to stare at the ceiling.

Bruce walked into the other room where all the eyes were watching Y/N through the window. “I’d like to go keep her company.” Wanda said, to which Steve nodded and watched Wanda go in to talk to his sister, waiting for the door to shut behind her.

Bucky had awoken again, sitting up and also staring through the window at Y/N silently. He was thankful she had healed him, he was able to get another chance at her forgiveness. But he was also curious to hear about what he had given her to Hydra for. That put fear in his bones as he awaited for Banner to speak.

Banner sighed, turning away from the window so Y/N couldn’t watch him talk. “It’s bad Steve. Theres a healed incision on her the top of her head in her skin, meaning they did cut into her head at some point. The X-ray of her skull showed a Hydra brand in the middle of the bone where they removed part of her skull. It looks like they drilled the design in themselves.” He watched Steve’s facial expression turn to worry, Steve’s eyes flickering between Banner and his sister through the glass. Bucky listened, rage and guilt growing inside of him. But the emotion he felt most was sadness. He had led Y/N to this, handed her over. He didn’t know who he was, who she was, or what he was doing, but still. This was his fault and something he would forever feel guilty for. Banner continued, “As for her actual brain… Someone definitely fiddled around in there. From what I can tell, her nervous system is damaged in the way it doesn’t register pain correctly. Her blood also showed mutated enzymes that heal very quickly. ” He looked back through the window to Wanda and Y/N, who were talking, Wanda smiling. “I would assume they used some variation of what they used to make Bucky, but more enhanced. When I X-Rayed her head, I was able to see fangs hidden in her gums. I assume they pop out when she bites and pushes venom into her victims."

Steve sighs, crossing his arm as he watched his sister, “She’s fast, strong, doesn’t feel much pain, heals quickly, and has venom in her teeth with her blood as the cure,” He said, listing off the enhanced abilities, "Sounds like Hydra was trying to up their game to make the ultimate soldier.”

Nobody had noticed that Bucky was now standing by Steve, listening but keeping his focus on Y/N through the window. As he listened to what was going on inside her head, his rage grew. He had done this. Maybe Y/N was right to attack him, to inject her with his venom. He was hallucinating that she was okay, safe. It wouldn’t be the worst way to go. Bucky finally broke his silence, “She probably has some sort of trigger, like I did. It’s important we figure out what that is.” He said, turning his gaze to Steve who just nodded in agreement silently. It was a lot to take in for Steve. As he kept learning more about what happened to Y/N, his guilt also grew for what had happened to her. He should’ve been there for her, to protect her.

Bruce looked at Steve, “What they’ve done to her brain… it makes her slightly mentally unstable. It’s amazing she made it through what she did and is able to have any thoughts of her own. With what they’ve done to her brain, they should have full control.” He paused, watching the reactions from Bucky and Steve, knowing their next question already.

“So why don’t they have full control?” Bucky was the one to ask, looking at Bruce curiously. He finally tore his eyes away from Y/N through the window, curiosity grabbing his attention.

Bruce sighed, pausing for a moment trying to figure out the way to tell them the gruesome finding, “She had a chip implanted in her brain. It would send her the orders from Hydra. That is how they controlled her. She couldn’t fight it. It would instantly make her do what they wanted when they initiated the chip. With Bucky they had the phrase, but they must’ve upgraded to chip to make it easier.”

“Had a chip?” Steve turned to Bruce curiously, feeling somewhat safer as it sounded like the chip wasn’t there anymore.

Bruce nodded, “Yeah.. Uh.. Had a chip. It’s not there anymore. If I had to, I would guess she… uhm..” He paused, thinking of how to put the next information delicately without making it sound too horrific, “She picked it out herself.”

Steve’s brow furled in confusion, “Picked it out herself? Out of her brain? How?” He questioned, halfway dreading the answer.

“Y/N also had scars behind her left ear as well as a scar on her same spot on her skull. It looks like she scratched herself with her fingers until she got to bone, from there she may have used a drill, then picked the chip out of her brain with pliers but I would guess by hand. Her skull healed the hole and all that is left is scars.” Bruce said quietly, it was more horrific to say aloud, especially seeing the faces of Bucky and Steve.

Bucky looked back towards Y/N, “She was smart enough to figure out what they were doing, strong enough to dig it out.” He folded his arms, the peak of his rage had been met. If only those who did this to Y/N were still alive… He would have tortured them for her. For what they did to her and what they made him do. He looked at Y/N though, and his insides melted. The rage was subsiding. Bucky just wanted to go into that room and hold her, letting her know how sorry he was and that it would all be okay. That she was safe and nothing was going to hurt her ever again. He knew he couldn’t though. If he went in there to try and speak to you, he knew he would be met with hostility. And he knew he deserved it. She should’ve forgotten about him, had a family, had a happy life like he always imagined she had. But instead, Y/N was here. Damaged. And he couldn’t do anything to help.

___________________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @taina-eny

#bucky x reader #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #marvel #marvelfanfic #bucky barnes imagine #buckybarnes x you #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel imagine #bucky x you #Bucky barnes x you #marvel fanfic series #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

Text

so so many thanks to everyone who read even one of these stories. i am forever grateful for all the support i've received; every comment, every kudos, every reblog, every like - they all mean so much. i'm overwhelmed, honestly, but in the very best way. ily all 🥰

day one: against all odds (we're still here) for @trkstrnd

Carlos will hate himself for it later, but he’s so focused on his task that the screech of tires coming around the corner barely registers as a blip on his radar. He doesn’t notice anything until TK suddenly barrels into him, throwing Carlos to the side just before something else, something heavy, crashes into them with a blinding flash of pain, and then—

Nothing.

a simple trip to the grocery store quickly turns to disaster for tk and carlos

day two: out, damned spot for anon

TK wakes up gasping, choking on air. The sheets are suffocating him and, when he tries to free himself, they only seem to get tighter. The hands reaching out for him, trying to calm him, are the final straw; TK throws himself from bed and sprints to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he collapses against the sink.

On some level, he is aware that the hands were Carlos’s, that the sheets were theirs, that his hands are clean, and that the dream was just a dream.

But they weren't always that way.

day three: the meetings for those in my wake for @freddieholic

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news, and almost always about their son. Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas, which is why she thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Gwyn, it’s TK. He's... They think we should say goodbye."

day four: a friend in me for 📍 anon

Carlos has come to see Nancy as a force of nature, a woman who will let nothing and no-one stand in her way, whether that’s out on the field or during a game of Monopoly. But, right now, as she sits hunched over in one of the interrogation rooms, shock blanket around her shoulders, he's never seen her look so small.

the story of how nancy and carlos become the new champions of 126 games nights

day five: truth is heavier than fiction for anon

Carlos pauses with his hand on the doorknob, taking a moment to prepare himself before going inside. TK’s shift finished an hour ago and he’d texted to let Carlos know he was home, which means Carlos is going to be walking right into a conversation he’d rather avoid.

Not that he’d have much choice either way; he might be able to cover his cracked and bruised ribs for a little while, but the arm in a sling will tell on him as soon as the door opens. Carlos doesn’t want to hide his injuries—they’ve had enough conversations in reverse on that theme to make him a hypocrite if he did—but he may have made some choices that he doesn’t particularly want to go into right now. Not while he’s tired and aching and just wants to cuddle with his boyfriend.

He blows out a breath, then opens the door, bracing himself for TK’s reaction.

“Hey— Shit!”

day six: slowly, and then all at once for @pragmaticoptimist34

The realisation that he loves Carlos hits him like a bolt out of the blue.

And at the worst possible moment.

We are getting updates on the active shooter situation at the Four Seasons Hotel. Austin Police Department have closed off the area and officers are currently preparing to enter the building to detain the suspect. It is as yet unknown if there have been any civilian casualties, but—

“Paul, turn the damn TV back on.”

“No.”

five times tk can't admit his feelings about carlos, and one time he finally does

day seven: the promise of tomorrow for anon

Up until five minutes ago, Carlos had been terrified of never having TK in his arms again. Now, the thought of letting him go scares him just as much, and TK seems to feel the same, if the way he’s clutching at Carlos’s jacket and pulling it tight across his back is any indication.

Carlos hugs him close, sinking down to his knees as TK falls into the chair behind him, letting the rest of the room fade away to nothing as he realises that they weren’t too late—that TK is here, with him, alive and mostly whole.

day eight: we'll hold each other soon for @221bsunsettowers

“Be careful, please,” TK said, smoothing down the lapels of Carlos’s shirt. “Whatever happens out there, whatever you have to do, just promise me one thing. Promise you’ll come back to me.”

Carlos knew better than to promise something like that, and TK knew better than to ask it. But because it was him, and because it was TK, Carlos just nodded and leaned in to press a kiss to TK’s temple.

“I promise,” he whispered, pulling away.

It's the last good memory Carlos has, and he's going to hold onto it for as long as he has left. If he's going to die, then the last thing he wants to see is TK's smile.

day nine: now i am just but the wayward man for anon

Ben is glaring at him again.

Klaus is very familiar with this specific glare—it’s the one Ben breaks out when Klaus is being ‘stubborn’ and ‘stupid’ and ‘a fucking asshole junkie with no self-respect who only cares about the next high and, really, it’s a fucking miracle you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet, Klaus’.

He has to hand it to him. Ben really does have him down to a tee.

winter is approaching and klaus has nowhere to go. his siblings are his only option—meaning he effectively has no options.

day ten: i can't imagine my life without you for 📍 anon

It had come completely out of left field—one minute everything was fine, the next Carlos had turned to him with guarded eyes and a clenched jaw, and said six words that sent TK’s whole world crashing down.

“I think we need a break.”

nobody likes to be asked 'trouble in paradise?', particularly when the answer is yes.

day eleven: start again from the beginning for anon

Owen trusts his son. He’s watched TK fight his addiction and stay sober for the last six years, and he has faith that he can handle himself.

But when TK doesn’t show up for work the night after proposing to Alex, Owen knows that something is wrong. After all, they've been here before.

day twelve: let me love you when your heart is tired for anon

TK knows it’s going to be a bad day from the moment he opens his eyes. Slowly, slowly, each twitch like he’s moving mountains, he inches his hand blindly across the bed to reach out for Carlos. If he can just feel his boyfriend, if he can just see him—

But, of course. Carlos has a shift today. TK has a vague recollection of him getting out of bed at five this morning, rousing him with a shift to the mattress and a gentle kiss on the forehead.

If this were a normal day, he might smile at the memory.

day thirteen: couldn't utter my love when it counted for 📍 anon

TK takes his time in the bathroom, stopping to stare at his reflection in the mirror for several minutes and trying to talk himself down from any more-than-friendly feelings towards Carlos.

Later, they’ll tell him that this saved his life.

But that won’t be for a long time, until after the smoke has cleared and the dead have been counted and the statements have been taken. For now, TK steels his resolve and nods at himself, then turns to the door, a hand reaching out for the handle.

That’s when the explosion rips through the building.

after the boba date, tk lets carlos go. they're friends, which is working just fine, until a horrific accident threatens to take even that away from them.

day fourteen: if i walk out the door (a thousand eyes) for anon

TK gets this feeling sometimes, a sort of prickling at his back, like someone’s behind him, breathing down his neck. At first, it was only a once-in-a-while situation, so he thinks nothing of it; when it becomes an everyday occurrence, he starts to wonder, but he’s probably just being paranoid. The shooting, kidnapping, firehouse explosion, and the fire at his and Carlos’s house had all taken their toll, and TK’s just generally more on edge these days.

He doesn’t tell anyone about the feeling, not even Carlos. There’s no reason to fuck up everyone else’s peace with something so stupid. It’ll go away eventually; TK’s sure of it.

That is, until one of the lots just down from the firehouse gets occupied.

day fifteen: find you here inside the dark for @fanfic-corner

Yaz has walked this room too many times to count now; she’s traced her fingertips over the walls, searching for any cracks or crevices to indicate where there might be a door.

If the Doctor were here, she’d have her sonic out by now, spitting out words, only half of which Yaz could understand. She’d find a way out in no time. Or, if not, at least she’d be here. Talking a mile a minute, probably annoying the hell out of their captors. Yaz can almost hear her now—

Wait.

She can hear her now.

day sixteen: accidents happen for @ilovemosss

So, Jason reflects, it may not have been the best idea to take Pythagoras out training while they’re all suffering from a severe lack of sleep. Being the more logical of them, Pythagoras, to his credit, had attempted to talk him out of it, but Jason ignored him.

He very much regrets that decision now.

day seventeen: you and me (moving through this world as a two-man team) for @laelipoo

TK does not have a crush on the 126's latest hire.

Carlos Reyes: an Austin local, an incredible firefighter, and—objectively speaking—the most beautiful man TK has ever laid eyes on. Which is, in fact, the entire point; TK has eyes and, yes, he will use them to sneak a look or two when he’s suddenly sharing space with a man who looks like a Greek god.

That does not mean he has a crush, Paul.

(and, sure, maybe he does sometimes dream about how soft Carlos’s lips look and the little blush he gets when he laughs and those little flecks of gold in his eyes, but he’s only human)

(how TK knows about the gold in Carlos’s eyes is none of anybody’s business)

day eighteen: in perfect harmony for @anyotherheartwilldo

Here’s the thing—Carlos doesn’t believe in signs. He used to when he was younger, raised on his abuela’s stories, but as he’d gotten older his father had taught him that what mattered was the choices he made. He’s the only one who has a say in the way his life turns out, and if he wants something, he has to put in the work to get it.

But there comes a point—namely, after his fifth thwarted attempt to propose to TK—when he begins to wonder if the universe really does have something against him.

proposing to tk proves far more complicated than carlos had first thought.

day nineteen: whatever here that's left of me (is yours) for anon

“Are you…” TK leans closer, peering at the hoodie Carlos is wearing, and—yep. “Why are you wearing my hoodie? Was there nothing in your size from the crew? You should have said something. We can fix this, you don’t need to be uncomfortable.”

There’s a beat, and then Carlos, studiously avoiding TK’s gaze, clears his throat. “It smells like you.”

post-2.12, carlos finds comfort in tk's hoodies.

day twenty: can't smile without you for anon

Carlos would be lying to himself if the possibility hadn’t occurred to him before. He has always worried for TK’s safety, and the knowledge that a serial killer is on the loose in Austin has sent that worry skyrocketing. Especially because he’s the lead detective on the case; he’s spent hours poring over horrific crime scenes, examining all the facts until they’re burned into his brain.

Admittedly, the killers seem to be mostly indiscriminate in who they take, meaning the chances of it being TK are slim.

But there’s still a chance.

a before, during, and after of tk's kidnapping in a hole where your memory goes

day twenty-one: lately you've been searching for a darker place to hide for @freddieholic

“Can I ask you something else?”

TK stiffens at the sound of Mateo’s voice, a nervous note to it that wasn’t there last time. Something tells him he knows exactly what Mateo wants to ask; still, he turns to lean against the counter, crossing his arms as casually as he can manage. “Sure.”

“Are you…” Mateo trails off, biting his lip and avoiding TK’s gaze. “I mean, do you… I mean—”

“You can say it, you know,” he interrupts, not unkindly. “If you want to know if I’m thinking about heading out and getting high, then just ask.”

five times tk turns to unhealthy coping mechanisms when he wants to use + one time he finally asks for help

day twenty-two: know me crazy, soothe me daily for anon

It had freaked Carlos out the first time it happened.

“It was a seizure,” TK explained, after Carlos had finished telling him about it. TK had been disoriented and confused for about ten minutes after, and couldn’t even remember half of their earlier conversation. “I… It’s because of the drugs. They fucked something up in my brain, especially after my first overdose, and now I get seizures occasionally."

in which carlos gets a little over-protective and tk is mildly exasperated

day twenty-three: lover, be good to me for anon

Carlos holds his arms out, and TK comes willingly, setting what Carlos now recognises as a tray of food carefully on the bed. “What’s this?”

TK stares as if it’s obvious. “Date night.”

“What?”

TK pauses, then gasps. “You’re right.” He pats himself down frantically, then pulls an object out of his pocket with a dramatic flourish. It’s a little electric tea light—real candles long since banned from the bedroom—and Carlos watches in bemusement as TK flicks it on and sets it down on the tray. “Now it’s date night.”

his fiancé being bed-bound isn't going to keep tk from date night

day twenty-four: bring you in from the cold for anon

As a cop, Carlos has always been uncomfortably aware of his own mortality. He’s considered his own death more than is probably healthy, but when you’re facing down the barrel of a gun almost every single day, it’s kind of forced on you.

He’s imagined himself being shot, stabbed, strangled, and everything in between.

But he’s not sure he ever pictured dying in a walk-in freezer after getting trapped there by mistake.

day twenty-five: heaving through corrupted lungs for anon

TK is itching to go home and check on Carlos, to make sure he’s still breathing and actually resting like he’s supposed to be. On the other hand, Carlos would probably kill him if he left work, illness be damned. It’s just… Carlos had looked so ill that morning, skin ashen and voice all but gone, and it had taken a lot of convincing for TK to still go to his own shift. He’d insisted on making sure Carlos had all the blankets and water and snacks and anything else he could possibly want, but even so, he’s still uneasy.

His gut is telling him that something’s wrong, and TK doesn’t think he can ignore it for much longer.

when carlos falls ill, they think it's just a bad cold. but when tk goes to check on him, he's in for a nasty shock.

day twenty-six: slowly becoming lovers for @pragmaticoptimist34

Things don’t get fixed overnight. They agree to give them a shot, but that doesn’t change the fact that TK is still reeling from his break-up and overdose, nor that Carlos is still hesitant and afraid of pushing too hard at once.

But, slowly, they get to know each other. And, slowly, they start to fall in love.

tk and carlos, getting to know each other and falling in love

day twenty-seven: and curse the gods for @girlwhowasntthere

Jason knows what it is to be cursed.

day twenty-eight: ignoring every warning for @moviegeek03

TK is fine.

He is absolutely, 100% fine.

And, sure, maybe he’s not supposed to be at work right now, and maybe his hand hasn’t fully healed yet, but it’s nothing. His doctor cleared him to go back to work, which means it’s healed enough, and TK is certainly not going to admit defeat no matter how much he's hurting.

day twenty-nine: can you beat back the night? for @girlwhowasntthere

He misses the bard. Geralt won’t admit it, not even to Roach, but he misses him. After months—years—of Jaskier’s constant chatter and the sound of his lute, the silence, once valued above all else, is too much.

It’s been months since the dragon, since Geralt lost both Yennefer and Jaskier in one fell swoop. He’s cursed himself many times over for the words he said—to both of them—and cursed himself more for the mistakes he made to get in this position in the first place.

this is the lot of witchers, to be alone.

day thirty: ease my mind for @silvarafael

Briefly, Carlos considers calling TK and telling him about the accident. But… He only broke two of his fingers and it barely even classifies as a minor injury in his book, so there’s really no reason to bother his fiancé while he’s still on shift himself. He pockets his phone then looks around to figure out where the exit is.

Only, an all-too familiar laugh distracts him from his task, drawing his attention to the nurses station.

Where TK is standing, smiling as a nurse swats at him for stealing one of their lollipops.

Carlos is, beyond doubt, fucked.

day thirty-one: scars turn to memories for anon

Their front door is open. It’s wide open, and the wood of the door frame is broken, splinters littering the driveway and the floor of the front room. TK’s heart stops in his chest as he surveys the scene, his brain going blank, struggling to comprehend what he’s seeing.

Everything is quiet in the front room, not even a table setting out of place. TK creeps further into their home, his every nerve on edge as he barely breathes for fear of alerting whoever’s here of his presence.

And then, he remembers.

Carlos was off shift tonight. He was here. Alone.

#masterlist #holly's august extravaganza #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing

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dracowars · 3 years

Note

Hii, could I pleaser request a draco x reader based off of the song heather by Cohan gray where basically the reader and draco were close until this other girl came along maybe angst with a lot of fluff at the end and can you please make the reader a gryffindor? ❤

while i die | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x gryffindor!reader

word count: 2,4k

summary: where draco replaced y/n

a/n: when i tell you that i listened to this song every day when it came out (i still do, actually lol)

warnings: angst

universe: harry potter

With your eyes narrowed, you stare through the filled Great Hall, over to the table of the Slytherins, whose students are all dressed in their usual green, enjoying their breakfast, joking around with each other here and there, or just chatting. A couple of them have a book or piece of parchment in front of them, probably doing their homework for Charms at the last moment before you, the Gryffindors and Slytherins of year six, go to Professor Flitwick’s lesson together.

However, you are not staring there for no reason, no. You are looking for something specific, for someone specific, even though you know very well that you should not be doing so. You would hurt yourself again, like so many times before. And yet you can’t avert your gaze, even when you do not find what you are looking for.

With a sad sigh, you finally turn to your plate of delicious food of which you can hardly choke down anything again today, your stomach aching with hunger. You are still too affected by what happened. The gaping wound in your heart that you once believed would decrease over time, still present, giving you a stabbing pain every time you think back.

The lively conversations of your fellow Gryffindor friends around you are slowly falling silent as you get lost in your thoughts, a habit you only recently acquired. Completely drowning in your thoughts, your gaze wanders to the table on the other side of the Great Hall one more time and suddenly all your thoughts disappear in the matter of a second, the stabbing pain that you are so afraid of, returning. Now that you have discovered him.

With her.

Your reasonable mind screams at you to finally look the other way, to finally get over it, get over him, but your broken heart easily wins the fight within you. Your gaze stays fixed on him as he touches her, as he looks at her.

The way he once looked at you.

Before everything broke apart.

While you watch him, the pure emotional chaos reigns inside of you. You have already shed so many tears because of him, but now you can’t even cry anymore, not because of him. You quietly suffer on your own, so far away from him, only watching him from a distance as he goes on with his life while he has stopped yours.

“I do not ever want to see you again”, his hurtful words echo in your head, painfully piercing through your heart for the thousandth time. “Get out!”

Your common sense finally wins the upper hand to some extent and you blink a few times, trying to banish the horrific imagines from your head, but as soon as you close your eyes, they reappear right in front of you. Your sad gaze now directs itself to her, who is still a part of his life, who has replaced you.

Right at the moment your gaze meets her, you have to hold your breath. She looks so beautiful again today. Her long, smooth brown hair playfully falls over her shoulders, the strands, which are cut shorter in the front, framing her face perfectly, the smile on her lips making her shine brightly. The green of her school uniform compliments her eyes, makes them shimmer even more. Even the oversized dark gray sweater she is wearing today fits her perfectly. A sweater that used to adorn your body too.

Back when everything was still all right, when this piece of cloth supposedly suited you better than him.

And now it suits her better than you.

You have to watch how he looks at her with so much love in his eyes, happier than ever, how he looks after her as soon as she leaves the table to attend her next lesson. She has got him mesmerized while you are dying inside.

For him, she is now his one and only and for you, he still is yours.

Eventually managing to avert your gaze from them, you stand up when you notice how everyone around you has already got up to go to their class as well. In a hurry, you shoulder your bag, press the books, which you originally planned to take a look at while eating, against your chest and quietly follow your small group of friends out of the Great Hall – to your surprise – without looking back another time.

When the doorbell rings for the break, you flinch hardly after your thoughts wandered off again – how could it be otherwise – and left your body behind in the reality, a reality that you would gladly escape from forever. Rolling up your empty parchment lying in front of you and stowing it in your bag, you step out into the corridor teeming with students.

You follow your friends, who are chatting excitedly while repeating the spells you apparently have just learned, down the hallways, keeping a little distance from them but still close enough to be counted as part of their group. When you pass the courtyard, you unintentionally stop all of a sudden when something catches your eye.

Not far from you, in the middle of the courtyard, they stand, hand in hand, laughing with each other before he gives her a loving kiss. His hand is so much bigger than hers and it embraces hers perfectly, just as it once did with yours. Not noticing that you are watching them intently, he gently puts an arm around her, which she accompanies with a shy chuckle. You, in turn, suddenly become ice cold and unpleasant goose bumps cover your skin, running over your entire body. Shivering and slightly trembling from the sudden cold, you wrap your arms around your body while a feeling of anger slowly builds up inside of you.

A feeling of anger that is not directed at her because how could you ever hate her? She is an angel on earth and always so incredibly friendly and accommodating. No, you would never hate her.

You do not even hate him. The rising anger you feel in this moment is directed at you, for what you have destroyed.

Your hand instinctively reaches for your wand tucked in your pocket, clinging to it like it could be able to protect you from the worst. And suddenly it might not be that bad after all if she instantly drops dead right here, right now.

You only come back to your clear senses again when you feel glances on you and your eyes directly meet his. His gray eyes look at you without any emotion, while yours are just overflowing with emotions. Abruptly, you turn away, trying to control your fast heartbeat before running down the hallway.

What you do not notice, however, is Draco’s sad look he threw after you, almost seeming like he is pitying you.

You promised yourself that you would never ever shed a tear for him again and yet, here you are again, sitting in an empty, abandoned corridor on the floor, your knees drawn closely to your body while you sob sadly. Nobody could ever take away the pain you have to endure every day. It has become a part of you.

A part that you have to live with.

“Y/N”, his voice sounds in your ear, which makes you laugh bitterly. You always loved the way he pronounced your name. It feels like it has been years since you last heard his voice.

“Y/N?”, his voice repeats in your ear and finally causes you to look up when you feel a breeze flying past you.

What you thought was only happening inside of your head was actually real. You did not imagine it. There he is, Draco, standing right in front of you, his eyes roaming over your fragile body with worry. You frantically get up from the cold ground and wipe away your precious tears, turning your body away from him in order to protect yourself, preferably wanting to flee in a different direction straight away.

“Is everything all right?”, he asks you and takes a step closer to you while your gaze fearfully escapes through the corridor, searching for his friends who are probably just waiting around the next corner to watch the funny spectacle unfold.

Trying to muster up all your courage to answer him, you terribly fail and instead burst out into tears, quickly running past him, not expecting to get pulled back immediately. Startled, you look at him, look at his hand which is holding your wrist tightly and thus preventing you from walking away.

“I can see that you are not fine”, Draco whispers sadly, his eyes searching for an answer in yours, even though deep down he already foresees the reason which has done such cruel things to you.

“Let go of me”, you ask him, trying to stay as calm as possible when in reality you would love to yell at him from the top of your lungs that he should not talk to you, that he should stop being nice to you.

“I just wanted to see if everything is okay”, Draco defends himself and from one second to the next the expression on his face goes back to how it was the last time you talked to each other. Hurt and angry.

“You are too late for that”, you speak through gritted teeth, his hand still not letting go of you. The way he talks to you makes you angry. How he treats you as if nothing ever happened makes you furious.

“You gave her your sweater”, it suddenly bursts out of you before you can stop yourself and you watch how Draco’s eyes widen at your statement. You lower your gaze to the floor, not believing that out of all the things you could have said, you chose to say this.

“It is just polyester”, he replies, irritated why you opened up to him all of a sudden. Angrily, you finally snatch your wrist out of his tight grip.

“But you like her better”, you scoff sadly, shaking your head in disappointment, gathering all your thoughts. “Sometimes I wish I were Astoria.”

Silence spreads between you when nobody says anything, and you do not even dare to take your eyes off the ground. Your heart is beating painfully against your chest like crazy, your hands slightly shaking.

“Why do you say that?”, Draco breaks the silence, his voice broken, heartbreaking.

“Because it is the truth”, you ridicule, unable to believe that he still does not understand you. “I am not even half as pretty. I understand why you chose her over me. I mean, why would you ever kiss me? Look at me-“

Not letting you finish your sentence, he suddenly pulls you to him, his hands clasping your face, and letting your words die in your mouth with a kiss. You let yourself go despite your mind and heart yelling at you, telling you to stop. You let him kiss you like you always wanted. Your lips move in harmony with one another, a desire noticeable in the kiss that goes beyond anything.

And as quickly as this indescribable feeling appeared, it disappears again, and you notice how single tears roll down your cheeks. Draco catches some of them with the fingertips of his thumbs, his touch sending warmth through your body. Still being this close to him should make you feel uncomfortable, but on the contrary. You feel safe.

“I am incredibly sorry”, Draco whispers, leaning his forehead against yours, closing his eyes while carefully thinking about how to phrase his next words. “I do not like her better. At all.”

“B-But, Draco-“

“Shh”, he softly breathes and puts his thumb on your lips to silence you, his gaze longingly directed at them. “Astoria and I are engaged.”

“WHAT?!”, you scream out in disbelief, violently pushing him away from you, your head realizing that he is indeed just playing one of his games with you again.

“Wait, listen to me. Please”, he almost begs you and takes another step towards you, his hand outstretched to invite yours into his. Not knowing why – maybe because of his shimmering eyes – you agree and carefully place your hand in his, which he immediately grips tightly and thus keeps it from shaking. He gently pulls you closer again, bringing your hand to his mouth to place a kiss, light as a feather, on the back of it.

“Our parents engaged us. Astoria is a Greengrass, a pureblood. We were promised each other and I- I refused to accept it because my heart belongs to someone else, it always did. But they did not give in and threatened to harm you”, Draco stutters out, his eyes now also filled with tears as he looks deep into yours. “I had to let you go, I had to hurt you to make it believable. You were not allowed to question it. You had to believe it.”

“I have suffered for so long, Draco. Why now? Why are you telling me this now?”, you ask, completely calm, but no longer knowing where to lock away your boiling feelings. “We could have found a solution. You and I, together.”

“I could not let them harm you, don’t you understand?”, he asks desperately, taking your face between his hands again. “I was worried about you. I was selfish because I rather wanted to hurt you myself than let others do it.”

“You were selfish”, you reply coldly and bite down on your lower lip to prevent further tears from falling.

“I know”, Draco admits, bowing his head dejectedly. “I can’t make it up to you. What I have done is unforgivable. But I want you to know that I love you more than anything on this goddamn planet. I do not want to be with Astoria, I want to be with you. By Merlin’s beard, I never wanted anything more in my insignificant life-“

This time, you are the one to cut him off with a kiss mid-sentence. His tense body relaxes in an instant when he returns the kiss with passion and you completely lose yourself in the kiss you should never have given him.

“Come back to me, Draco”, you whisper hopefully after breaking the kiss, kissing a few of his tears away. Draco’s arms wrap tightly around you, pressing you against his warm body with a nod, you can feel his heartbeat violently beat against yours.

“I will.”

And in the end, you were the one who mesmerized him.

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 5.2

Author’s Note: I saw this on pinterest and thought it applied to Xiao XD P.S. Do you readers like that the story is in 2nd POV, or should I change it to 3rd person? My thinking is this POV allows me to get away without mentioning appearances or a chosen name so ya’ll could be put in OC’s shoes?

..............................

Is it just me, or is he looking my way? You caught Childe in the act while you and your team retreated into the opposite tree line after Aether had taken the dragon tooth. Something didn't feel right. The trees seemed to close in on you like tunnel vision. Was he planning on attacking you with the skirmishers at his side? Was he going to show his true colors now? Is it time to face death?

He dismissed the soldiers and retreated from the direction you had all spotted the skirmishers in the first place. He made a point to cast a meaningful glance your way.

I can't let it happen now, you looked to each of your teammates as you all ran through the snowy woods. If he brought all of those Fatui agents on board with taking you out, the entire group would be overwhelmed. The sheer cold puts us at a disadvantage. Bennett could get hurt. Xiao can't fight with his full strength. When was the last time Aether and Childe sparred? I can't rely on those results to protect me either.

No one was paying attention; you could slip away and try to strike a deal with the Harbinger. Bargain for Xiao's freedom and safety. You were hypersensitive to the weight of your coat on your shoulders, and the crunching of snow beneath your boots. He can't hurt us now...not now!

You peeled away from the group and they continued to run towards a cave several hundred yards from their current position. No one had heard you. When you finally reached the first firepit, you found Childe waiting next to it.

"Oh there you are, ojou-chan! Did you get the tooth? Where are the others? They didn't run into trouble, did they?" He greeted you with his signature friendly stature.

"Drop the act, Childe." You came to a halt maybe ten feet from him, with your back to the firepit. It warmed your body significantly and you could finally feel your fingers and toes again. He was on the far end of the open area.

"Whatever do you mean, ojou-chan?" The mask didn't crack.

"We're alone now. Is that what you wanted?"

Childe stared at you for a moment before breaking out into a loud fit of laughter. "Oh ojou-chan, you know me so well〰" He took a couple steps toward you. "You should know I've been meaning to talk to you."

"That's close enough." He stopped. "I know what you're after."

"Oh?" A dangerous glint sparked in his eyes, one that you've never seen before. "Enlighten me then."

"I don't want Xiao dragged into whatever mess you brought upon us. Whatever your plan entails, it ends with me."

"A noble sacrifice for a man that will not love you," he smirked. "Why do you try to protect him when he can clearly fight for himself?"

"He's been through enough already," your hands closed into fists as you recalled his horrific past. "I'll go with you, but only if you give me your word you won't take him too."

"Ha! I feel no need to fight you, ojou-chan." The sincerity in his voice attracted your gaze back to him. "I don't wish to hurt you."

"Huh..?" That's out of character. Is this some sort of trap?

"I...have other goals in mind. They require your cooperation, of course. And your cutting of ties with the adeptus."

"Cutting ties? Why would I do that?" Your brows furrowed.

"My loyalty lies with the Tsaritsa, but I have a special interest with this mission after meeting you, ojou-chan," he made his way closer, and you stood in total confusion. "I will personally see to it that you will not get harmed at all in Snezhnaya. It all depends on your answer."

"You...I don't get what you mean. What answer? What exactly are you asking of me?" Whatever it was, you sure as hell weren't going to agree with it. But as soon as the questions left your lips, you knew.

He does like you.

Childe took note of the realization--and the fear--on your face and continued. "Surrender is a valid option, I promise I'll be gentle. This is a simple route that avoids all the fighting and pain. All you need to do is allow me to love you, and I won't harm your friends. You have my word."

"L-love me?" The words left a terrible taste in your mouth. "I...I could never! I could never love you, either! You killed my Granny...you stole her house from her frail hands. You...You!" Your sword made a metallic sound as it was unsheathed.

Childe inhaled and manifested his bow. He nocked an arrow onto his finger and drew the string to his cheek. "A most expected answer, ojou-chan. Thank you for strengthening my resolve. This will be much more enjoyable now." Whatever turmoil that shone in his eyes was long gone and replaced with pure malice. "Let's make this a fair fight." The arrow shot into the fire and extinguished it.

"Tch." You ran toward him as fast as you could in the snow, and crossed sword with lance.

"Not bad," your opponent grinned with satisfaction. "Where'd you learn this technique from?" You somehow managed to keep up with his unrelenting blows thanks to the muscle memory that belonged to Xiao. "I don't recall the adeptus ever training you."

"Ngh!" He landed a kick to your stomach and you fell into the snow. Childe let you get back up, completely high on the thrill of fighting you and more than intent on dragging it out so he could watch your fighting spirit diminish. I may be keeping up with him, but I can't land a solid blow like this. You slowly removed your two remaining jackets and tossed them into the snow next to the extinguished firepit. If I can somehow finish the fight quickly...You knew it was a hopeless battle. A fight between a non-vision wielder and a harbinger that wields both vision and delusion? Complete and utter self-annihilation will ensue.

"I admire your tenacity, comrade," he watched the jackets fall. "But now that I have my answer, there's no reason to wait any longer." He shoved his lance towards you when your guard was down.

"I won't let you hurt him!" You swung your blade to parry, and a sudden blast of material sent the two of you flying backwards into the snow. Your vision was suddenly looking into the tree canopy. "Ugh, wha--?" You sat up to find ice shards scattered across the snow. Something cool and metallic sat in your free hand. You opened your palm to reveal what you least expected.

A vision.

You stared at your hand with bewilderment while Childe rose to his feet with a mixture of shock, admiration, and annoyance. "I see. An unexpected development," he remarked with cold eyes. "It's a shame you won't have the chance to wield it properly against me. He drew his bow and aimed for your chest. Another block of ice manifested before the arrow could pierce you.

You placed the artifact into your jean pocket, and you rose to your feet with a newfound confidence. Maybe you could beat him here and now. Images of Xiao's fights involuntarily crossed your mind, and a lance of ice materialized in your hand. You held it so that the tip pointed directly at Childe.

Another clashing of blades, this time converting Childe's into an ice sculpture. But not before you had managed to freeze his leg into the snow for a hot second. You ducked at his swings, parried his attacks, and followed through with a sequence of your own--or rather Xiao's--attacks. It looked like you were gaining the upper hand until Childe caught your blade in his gloved palm.

"Thank you for the entertainment, ojou-chan," he growled. "But this is where it ends for you." Did you really think he hadn't studied your newfound techniques during your previous fighting session? So naïve of you, ojou-chan. You can't use the same tricks twice.

You retracted your weapon and lay waste another blow. He easily parried it. You engaged in a combo before swiping your feet at his legs; he leapt away before you could knock him down. You were frustrated now, your movements becoming sloppier with each passing movement.

There's the real you, he mused. His frozen blade dug into your dominant shoulder with such force that he had you pinned to a tree. He felt nothing but sadistic pleasure course through his veins at the sight of you squirming in pain.

"Gah!" A shriek escaped your lips and your lance dropped from your hand. You tried to claw the spear out of your body as he stalked ever closer to you.

"I don't even need Foul Legacy to kill you. You could never defeat me, not even in your wildest dreams," Childe stalked towards you as he twirled a new hydro polearm behind his body, stopping once its blade pressed against your neck. He could kill you in an instant, and he would if he wasn't required to bring you alive.

You were seething with anger and hatred. It was stupid of you to go after him on your own, to seek a peaceful resolution to this conflict when you knew all along that there wouldn't be one. It didn't matter now. Your anger subsided, shoulders releasing themselves from the tension in your muscles once you thought of an idea. Even the pain in your dominant shoulder seemed to subside a bit. Your sudden change in demeanor made Childe's grip loosen for a moment as he questioned the newfound peace emanating from you.

Your eyes closed and your lips curled into a smile. Adeptus Xiao, you called to him in your heart.Please hear me and answer my prayer for protection.

A sudden gust of wind blew against your back, and Childe faltered. He looked to you for an explanation, and you met his gaze through his mask. "I know, but he can."

Xiao burst into Childe at an incredible speed, knocking him square into another tree. The trunk splintered in half from the force. He conjured his polearm and held its blade at Childe's throat. "Why the sudden politeness in your prayers?" He called out over his shoulder without taking his eye off the Harbinger. I'm cursed with hearing her rambling whenever I'm gone, and only now she speaks politely to an illuminated adeptus? Despite that thought, he actually loved hearing your voice reach his ears.

"I-I don't know.." WAIT, he COULD hear me all this time?! Blush further tinted your pink cheeks that were red from the sheer cold.

"Tsk," Childe spit blood onto the snow and glared at the yaksha.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't decapitate you here."

Childe wasn't going to give him a reason and debated on conjuring his polearm instead. Here he was, about to die at the hands of the damned yaksha, and all because he had decided to give you a chance to 'escape' a portion of the hardship that awaited you. Signora would lose what respect she had for him if she ever found out. Oh well.

"Ngh," you writhed against the tree. Your feet were just inches from solid ground, making this injury all the more painful as you hung from the lance. You couldn't move your dominant arm anymore. Xiao let go of Childe's collar and moved to your aid. He slipped your other arm over his shoulder so he could relieve the pressure off of your injury, then yanked the spear out without warning. Your shout of pain scared the nearby foxes away.

Xiao gave the Harbinger one last glare before he lifted you in his arms and took off at an incredible speed. It was only a matter of seconds before the two of you caught up with the rest of the group, who were waiting just inside a small cave that held mysterious lab equipment.

"Be careful," the yaksha set you on your feet but refused to remove your arm from around him.

"There you are! W-where'd Childe go?" Bennett paled when he saw your injury. "Here, let me see that." Aether, Paimon, and Xiao exchanged knowing looks while Bennett examined your shoulder. "You should sit down. This isn't anything I can't fix!"

"What happened? Did Childe...?" Aether trailed off once he returned with a bowl of water from a boiling pot.

"Mn," you winced when Bennett peeled your shirt off of your bloody skin. "I thought he was conspiring with those agents when we were making a run for it, so I followed him."

"A foolish decision," Xiao grumbled. He took the water from Aether and held it to your lips.

"Were you at least able to find anything else out about his plans? Or Signora?" Paimon spoke up. "It's not worth getting hurt over if you just throw yourself in harm's way like that."

"I thought he was going to..." your eyes flicked to Xiao's for a split second before they fell to the ground. '--Hurt you,' you wanted to say. But the yaksha would not hear of it if you said something so foolishly naïve. You were just a measly human after all, with little knowledge of fighting and a large heart that wanted to protect those around her. A big heart could only go so far; it proved useless in your battle today. Or did it? You nearly jumped up when you remembered, "I have something! I got something from this!" Your loud yelp scared the daylights out of Bennett, and he nearly yanked the stitch out that he had just put into your skin. You dug into your pocket and pulled out the artifact.

"Is that--?!" Paimon and Aether sprung to their feet simultaneously.

"A vision?" Xiao's eyes widened slightly. And a cryo one, at that.

"So cool!" Paimon spun around with excitement. "You're officially one of us now! Er, not that you weren't to begin with--"

"Congrats," Aether nodded and flashed you a toothy grin.

"Yeah, congrats!" Bennett also flashed you a bright smile and observed the trinket in your palm. "Wow, we're like, polar opposites!"

"Heh, yeah," you nodded with a faint smile. Your eyes found Xiao's, which were locked onto your vision. "Xiao?"

"You received a blessing from the very god that's hunting you. Do you not find that odd?" His lack of enthusiasm made your chest ache in disappointment.

Was he not proud of such an accomplishment?

"Yeah now that you mention it," Paimon held her chin and thought. "It is really weird. Why would she make her target more powerful? Wouldn't that just make it more difficult for her to capture you?"

"Did Childe say anything about it?" Aether prompted.

"No," you shook your head slightly and pursed your lips. "He seemed as surprised as I was."

To be blessed with the cryo vision, one must commit an act that revolves around love, Xiao's brows furrowed. Had she done something on the behalf of her grandmother, or is this all in the Cryo Archon's plan? It never crossed his mind that you had gotten it on his behalf.

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #fanfiction #xiao fanfiction #xiao one shot

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