#i was nervous and had a migraine and my bad leg was KILLING me

[sunsukuna]

— (call me by my name, and i’ll call yours). pt. i

☞ gojo x fem!reader. rated m. tw in tags. ☞ wc: 2959.

Gojo Satoru is a thief.

As evident by the notably empty container resting atop the cool and dark granite counters of your kitchen.

You didn’t cook often. There’s never really time, with your profession, for that. Cooking is a commodity turned luxury. Along with other basics like sleeping, sleeping restfully, sleeping in your own bed, sex, and sleeping. 

You’re rarely home; your kitchen, along with most of your small studio, is kept fairly bare. Nothing in the fridge aside from a couple of water bottles. Nothing on your counters aside from sparsely used glass jars where you keep sugars, flours, and other dry ingredients. Nothing inside your cabinets except a few plates, bowls, cups, and a handful of your favorite spices. And nothing in your drawers besides enough eating utensils for a maximum of two people. 

When you do have the time to cook, you prefer to savor the experience. The most substantial chunk of your time is spent contemplating flavors, textures, and smells—along with considering options for accompanying wines and desserts and hunting for fresh ingredients. Last night’s meal had been a tender salmon filet, picked from the nearest seafood market, baked and drizzled with tangy lemon and sweet honey. You had peppered with a dash of your most loved dried red peppers and served it with a plentiful side of vegetables. The recipe you put together turned out to your liking, even more so when you realized you had enough left to enjoy it again for lunch today.

Yet, here you are. Standing alone in your apartment, eyes unmoving from the plastic container, sans your fucking food, that was supposed to be neatly tucked away in your fridge.

Eyes still on the container, you wordlessly reach into your back pocket to grab your cellphone.

“Hey, Siri,” you say, jaw clenched and shoulders taut with tension. “Call ‘That Gojo Fucker.’” 

Gojo is suspiciously quick to answer to your call, the phone not even ringing before his voice is blaring through your speakers.

He greets you cheerfully, almost singing your name and then humming a quick, “How can I help you, darling?”

His voice, laced with mirth and mischief, is enough to make your skin crawl and your gut twist with anxiety.

At his best, you consider Gojo to be a likable nuisance. You’ve know the ocean eyed curse user for a little over a decade, his presence constant even during the more tumultuous stages of both of your lives. He had managed to surprise you early in your friendship with his loyalty and earnest demeanor. Seemingly flighty by nature, Gojo Satoru holds unwavering dedication to the select few he chooses to accept into his life. Though occasionally rash and more often than not self absorbed, Gojo is a friend you’re thankful burrowed his way into your life.

But at his worst—you imagine him on the other end of your phone with an irritatingly familiar grin on his face, a smile stretched wide with ill-placed excitement—Gojo is just a nuisance.

“I told you not to call me weird names,” you chastise. “You ate my food, Gojo. Again.”

There’s a beat of silence followed by muffled sounds you can’t fully distinguish. The sound of fabric (ah, maybe clothes?) rustling and unintelligible whispers coming from a surprisingly dainty voice you’re not sure you recognize. And then—did he just mute himself?

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” he finally responds after another moment.

“We’ve already discussed this,” you continue, choosing to ignore the fact that he’s very obviously in the middle something he doesn’t want you to hear.  “You’re not even supposed to be in my apartment when I’m not here, and I—”

“Darling, how am I supposed to know when you’re home if you never answer my calls?” 

“Enough with the pet names,” you scold quickly, your voice overlapping his. “And that’s literally not the point.”

“You never respond to my texts either,” Gojo continues as if you hadn’t spoken. “You respond to nerd-Nanami’s texts.” His tone matter-of-fact.

You can feel a migraine taking root, sprouting a dull ache between your brows. The urge to hang up is tempting as you consider ordering take out.

“Kento only texts me about work.”

A startled and undignified squeak tumbles from your mouth when a thunderous boom bounces through the speakers of your phone and straight to your eardrum. You hastily pull your phone away from your ear and decide it would be safer to put the call on speakerphone.

“What are you doing?” You nearly yell while your right hand tenderly massages your ear. “Are you on a mission?”

Your questions are followed by another wave of deafening silence. He’s muted his mic again, causing your forehead to scrunch in confusion. Gojo shouldn’t be on a mission today. A frown falls upon your lips. He’s supposed to be taking a day off.

“Gojo, you’ve gotta stop working during your time off. You’re going to go bald early,” you sigh, shoulders slumping as tension is released.

Another beat of silence trails behind your voice before you decide to hang up. Ordering delivery is starting to sound better and better as you start rustling though the drawer in your kitchen dedicated to local take away restaurants you adore. It won’t bring you the same satisfaction as a home cooked meal—your eyes shift to the empty food container once again as a sharp pain settles in your stomach—but it’s better than nothing.

“…”

Your brain is fast to process the unexpected sound behind you, just a few steps away, as being undeniably familiar. It’s the voice of a friend, you realize, who’s just called you by your given name. A name you covet so fiercely you’ve only shared it with a humble group of three. But your body reacts faster than your mind, a kitchen knife is in your hands and sent whistling out of your hands before your heart beats twice. You throw it with practiced ease and precision. Enough force to injure but not to kill.

A second knife is in your hand not a breath later as you turn to face your intruder, prepared to thoroughly mince whoever had the misplaced gall to break into your home. You have to force yourself not to scream when you find the first knife you threw frozen in the air in front of an ashen haired fiend fashioning a devilish grin staring at you.

“Gojo,” you seethe, your brain catching up. Your words tumble out in mess of curses and shaky breathes. “What the fuck is wrong with you? I told you to stop fucking teleporting into my home, you slimy bastard.”

The impulse to throw the second knife isn’t lost on you, but you decide to toss it to the counter, abandoning the urge, knowing it wouldn’t make contact with your target.

“I really, really don't like when you do that, Gojo! It’s goddamn bad enough when I’m not here; it’s a complete invasion of privacy,” your voice is shrill at this point, vexing to your own ears, but you keep going. “But I really fucking hate when you sneak up on me, Gojo! It’s so—”

“Gojo this, Gojo that,” he interrupts your tirade, lazily pulling the knife you’d thrown out of the air and placing it on the counter. “Never Satoru, but always Kento. You know, darling, you’re kind of a brat.”

For the second time today, a feeling of confusion washes over you. 

“I—w-what?” You reply a bit dumbly, your anger quickly replaced by growing bewilderment.

“You’re a brat,” he repeats simply. His voice is low, hushed, and ladened with unnerving apathy that causes you to bristle. You’ve heard this tone before—calculated and deceptively passive—but you can’t recall a single time he’s directed it at you.

Gojo takes a few steps forward, long legs quickly closing the already small distance and caging you between him and the countertop. His proximity is making you unusually nervous. His closeness makes your skin itch and your mouth dry. A new fluttering of anxiety bubbles in your gut, climbing the walls of your rib cage and nestling itself beneath your chest where you can feel heart thumping faster than you’d like.

You’ve been close to Gojo before. Your initial aversion to being touched by others dissolved entirely after years of missions and training sessions that have placed you in unavoidable positions. Gojo, especially, isn’t a bother after becoming accustomed to his incessantly grabby hands and roaming fingers that often found themselves lingering on your waist, squeezing your shoulders, tracing the patterns on your wrists, or laced between the waves of your hair.

Gojo’s touch, above anyone else, is one which you are well acquainted. And yet, in this moment, you realize you’re terrified for him to touch you.

You feel like running when you catch his crystalline eyes peering down at you, his midnight tinted lenses discarded alongside the knife on the counter. The look in his eyes, maddening and hungry, is enough to drown you. You want to bolt when his hand finds its way to the hem of your too large t-shirt, a jarring reminder that you have nothing on underneath because you hadn’t been expecting guests. Gojo’s other hand snakes itself into your hair, a sensation normally welcomed and relaxing, but you let out a surprised gasp when his fingers tighten around your locks and give a sharp tug.

Your hands quickly find themselves pressed against his chest, desperate to push him away and reintroduce much needed distance. You will yourself to ignore the heat of his skin that burns your palms through his thin button up. You give Gojo a push that does nothing to move him but does earn you another pull, this time harder, on your hair. A whimper crawls its way from the back of your throat, and you watch as his pupils bloom—obsidian eclipsing sky colored eyes.

“Did that hurt?” He licks his lips, eyes dropping quickly from yours to your neck.

The audacity of his question pushes you to finally speak, despite your still rampant nerves. 

“Of course it hurt, you fucking creep,” you hiss, pushing at his chest again. “Gojo, let me go right now or I’ll—”

Another sudden jerk on your hair causes your words to be lost within a painful whine.

“Satoru,” he cuts you off with a grunt, hooking the hand that had been toying with your shirt under one of your thighs and lifting you onto the counter with ease.

You shudder at the feeling of granite beneath you. It’s frigid against the bare skin of your thighs. Even more chilling against the bare heat of your pussy. An overbearing rush of panic clouds your thoughts, jumbling your mind with anxiety, anger, confusion, and something else you’re uneasy to name.

Gojo discards your hair, both of his hands resting atop your thighs and dangerously close to touching—

“Call me Satoru,” Gojo breathes out, distracting you again. “I want you to call me by my name.”

“You’re being really weird.” You muster your voice, albeit weakly, and ignore his odd demand. “I want you to back up, and let me go. Please.”

His grip on you tightens, blunt nails digging into your thigh. You can’t stop yourself from wondering if his hands have always been so large. Your eyes widen as you realize they nearly swallow the whole of you.

“Oh,” he offers you a short, hollow laugh, “I didn’t know you could say please.”

“Gojo, I’m serious.”

Your eyes meet his again, and a long forgotten feeling scorches your insides. Starting in the pit of your belly and settling hotly in the center of your cunt. The realization makes you want to run away again, adrenaline sweeping over you amidst your panic and anger. The look in Gojo’s eyes is upsettingly knowing, as if he’s also unearthed what had been lost, perhaps purposefully buried, between your storm of emotions. That feeling you had been fearful to identify just moments ago, so severe you’re forced to acknowledge it.

“You’re so fucking disobedient,” Gojo groans. He sounds annoyed, but the low sound and unexpected swear leaving his lips sends another wave of longing through you. 

“You’re fucking bratty,” he continues as he readjusts his already firm grip on your thighs and pulls you forward.

His hips meet your cunt, and your breasts press against his chest. You hazily consider if he can feel how wet you’ve become through his trousers. If he realizes your bra and panties won’t be found underneath your shirt should his hands wander any further.

He must because his next words leave him in a shaky breath. “You’re fucking mouthy,” he rasps, lips now pressed against your neck while his teeth lightly tug at your delicate skin. “I ask you for one thing, and you—fuck—can’t even do that.”

Your hands that had desperately tried to push him away earlier find themselves covered beneath a cascade of soft, snow colored locks, pulling Gojo closer. You can’t remember when you put them there. Your mind is too clouded with want; your thoughts are too fogged with images of what it would feel like to have his large hand cupping your breast, his tongue lapping at your pert nipple while he fucks into you, two fingers deep, with his other hand.

“You’re so wet, baby,” his voice no louder than a whisper. “You’re dripping on me, you’re fucking soaked, and I haven’t even stuffed you with my cock yet.”

You open your mouth with the intention of telling Gojo to kindly fuck off, irritated by the mocking undertone that had plagued vulgar his words, but all that comes is a lewd moan so shameless it spurs another humorless laugh from him.

“If you say my name, I’ll touch you properly,” he hums, mouth hovering over yours. His fingers dance along the slick folds of your aching cunt, teasing as he presses a finger at your entrance and his thumb to your clit. “Say my name, and I’ll fuck you.”

Greedy for more, you rock your hips forward, moaning loudly when you feel his finger slip inside you. The sensation is lost as quickly as you’d found it, though. Your brows furrow in confusion as your vision suddenly tilts, your mind sluggish to realize you’re being lifted from the counter and thrown over Gojo’s broad shoulders. A choked cry unintentionally falls from your mouth. Your hands, balled into fists and beating at his back, go ignored as he wordlessly carries you to your bedroom.

“Put me down, you asshole!” you screech, indignation and embarrassment leaking into your voice. “Fucking put me down, Satoru, I swear to fuck—”

Another strangled cry flies out of you when you’re sent falling backwards onto your plush bed. It takes a moment before your vision looks like it’s supposed to, the world correcting itself to be right side up. Gojo stands before you, and for the first time since his arrival you can really see him.

His white shirt, normally pressed and tucked neatly beneath the waistband of his pants, is disheveled. His hair, too, is a beautiful mess made by your hands. His lips plush and pink from painting your neck with kisses and bites that would probably leave marks. You swallow thickly as your eyes travel to his pants. They’re black, as usual, and tailored to fit his tall build. Your jaw drops, ever so slightly, when you see yourself smeared across the front of a tent in his pants. 

When Gojo calls your name, your eyes snap upward to find his. Heat pools in your cheeks, and your ears feel like they’re on fire. You can’t help but feel ashamed of yourself. What the hell were doing trying to fuck your longest friend and coworker? And on your kitchen counter? You’re woefully aware that it’s been a long time since your last sexual encounter, but surely nothing could excuse or justify this type of mindless behavior.

This isn’t who you are. And Gojo, despite his prowess and frequent affairs, isn’t this either. Not with you—never with you. In over a decade, he’s never made any kind of advances that made you feel uncomfortable. Playful flirting and pet names aside, Gojo’s never touched you like this. He’s never spoken to you like this. There’s never been a single indication that he’s ever viewed you as anything beyond a friend; that line had never been crossed. Crossing it had never even been considered.

So how the fuck did a phone call about your missing salmon turn into you almost getting your guts rearranged in your kitchen?

Something must be wrong, you realize, your mind buzzing with newfound clarity as your lust driven haze dissipates. Gojo says your name again, clearer and louder than before. His underlying distress and panic don’t go unheard either. When you catch his eyes again, your heart plummets to your stomach and you feel like sobbing.

“I see,” you say numbly. The puzzle pieces are starting to fit together. “You were cursed, ‘toru.”

Whether he flinches at your use of the old nickname you hadn’t spoken in years or the fact that he had come to the same conclusion as you, you’re not sure. 

“If we live through this, I’m gonna make fun of you for years,” you say resolutely. 

Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of your era, owner of The Six Eyes and Limitless techniques, has been cursed by a nightmarish pair of curses you’ve only had the displeasure of reading about in tattered textbooks and ragged scrolls. The man is a thief and a fool.

And, just your luck, he’s dragged you into his curse.

“So, sweetie,” you smile bitterly, “how do we kill an incubus and a succubus?” 

#gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #Gojo Satoru smut #tw.dubcon #tw.food #suna.scum #no beta

[whump-town]

You Worry Me

Pairings: Emily & Hotch

Summary: college au things, Hotch checking himself into a mental hospital for the weekend

Warnings: child abuse, mental health struggles, abuse, suicide attempt, drugs, alcohol

When Emily asked him if he wanted to get an apartment with her she had expected far more hesitation than what she was met with. It’s not that she doesn't have other people to ask but when she really has to think about it he’s the only person she wants around like that. She’s content with his silence and his strange but enrapturing bouts of… oddness. She’s already thrown up in front of him (bad stomach flu she refused to admit was as bad as it was) and stood guard so he could pee behind a dumpster when they’d walked to the store at midnight for cigarettes and energy drinks.

She finds the courage to ask him on the front lawn of campus, stretched out on their backs ignoring their work and just photosynthesizing. Closing their eyes in silent enjoyment as spring tries to peek through winter's tight grip. When she turns to look at him the words just come tumbling out and she waits for his reaction. She’s not sure why she’s expecting anything other than that predictable crooked smirk but it still shocks her. He turns his head, lifting his arm to shield his eyes as he does so. Mostly, he just wants to know where he came in the line-up. How many people told her no before she came to him?

The honest answer is none but she smirks and tells him four and he laughs that deep goofy laugh that he does and she doesn’t know why she was nervous he’d say no. With a tired sigh, he nods and that’s all it takes-- they’re sharing an apartment.

He carries her clothes up to their floor, leaves her the pillows and her comforter for her to drag up. He’s exhausted by the time he’s got her things sitting on her bedroom floor but goes down to the beaten old pick-up truck his mother let him borrow to get his own things. Informs her with one of those long crooked fingers to worry with her own things and leave him to get his own. She resigns herself to listening but only because she’d seen his load and knew her help wouldn’t really quicken the whole six, small, boxes he has.

On his third trip she’s had enough and with a dramatic sigh she shakes her head and stands right in the doorway to his room. “No,” she says, crossing her arms. “No, I refuse to believe this. There’s no way you’ve read all these books.” She’s watched him carry three boxes of books into this apartment and not just boxes with things like thrown in he’s got them stacked to take up as little room as possible in these boxes. They’re heavy, he’s sweating and they keep coming.

With a sigh he leans down and sets the box currently in his arms down on the floor. “I read,” is his very complex answer. Aaron Hotchner has a way with words and she’s come to know that well. He shrugs, pushing at the hair slicked with sweat against his scalp. “I have read them… all of them.” Most of them more than once.

Books are the only thing he’s ever had. When he’d packed up for college all of the room had been taken up by these books. His clothes fit into one box but the books, he made room for the books. Every year, for as long as he can remember, his mother would buy him a book for his birthday. He got a job in town to have money to buy books to try and stifle his insatiable hunger (and his up-and-coming smoking habit).

She looks down at the box he’s just placed down, sighing when she sees that atop a pair of jeans there’s another book. Sherlock Holmes, she recognizes easily, and she shakes her head. “You know,” she steps out of his way and he heaves the box back up with a grunt. “My mother asked if I thought you’d kill me.” He falters mid-step but doesn’t stop. Carries the box to the others and sits it down heavily. He turns and finds her watching him with that quizzical, intuitive frown of hers. “You’re big but I think I could take you.”

He huffs at that, shaking his head and sliding past her so he can get his other boxes. She has no worries about him hurting her and strangely she hadn’t even considered that he might hurt her until her mother had mentioned it. Besides, she knows just enough to never truly worry. He’s the boy who vomits when he gets angry - if he shouts he’ll end up curled around the toilet shaking with a fever. He’d never hit a soul and if he did, she can only imagine the penance his body would conjure up as punishment.

But he huffs and she hears it.

She jumps on his back as he’s setting his box down on the ground. He moves just a little, stumbling under their combined weight. “Emily,” he warns, doing his best to not react. He knows how she is. She wants him to get rough, to hook his arm under her leg and yank her around. If he acts unbothered she’ll leave him alone. She’s far too much like having a little sibling around again - a sobering and, yet, comforting notion.

She does get bored and quickly. “I’m gonna go see Eric,” she informs him, slipping down off his back. He grunts and it’s just the wrong sound and she falters for a moment. Aaron’s met Eric and she’d thought they got along well but… she’s started to second guess that a little more every time she mentions either to the other. “I’ll be back this afternoon,” she adds apprehensively. Catches on to move the conversation on and away from the subject of her boyfriend but she still finds herself hovering by his doorway. Chewing her lip and anxiously asking, “do you mind if I bring Eric Wednesday?”

He just looks down at the box he’s sorting through, back turned to her. He shakes his head, sighing, “I don’t care what you do Emily.” He does care, deeply, but he looks back at her for only a brief moment. Sad brown eyes begging with her to not push, to not make him talk about this more.

With a nod, the conversation is over.

Wednesday night he smokes the pot that Derek passes to him without a second thought. It’s been burned down to the last few puffs, the heat from the lit end burns his fingers tips but he still puts it to his lips. Pulls from what little remains of the blunt as if it’s oxygen itself, a mask over his face meant to level him out. Maybe it will. The heat sinks down into his lungs and he ends up doubled over, spit drooling over his lips. Laughter bubbles up around him and a hand rubs at his back, Emily, he knows but only by the way that her perfume stings his nose he tries to breathe through the assault.

“Give it here before it burns out--”

Emily takes the blunt from his fingers and passes it to Eric. He’s an asshole and they all hate him but they love Emily and if they want her around then they have to deal with him. It’s safer to have him here, where they can watch him. He won’t dare hurt her in front of them -- but is that not what he’s doing when he leaves bruises across her face like constellations? Sends her back to them so that they can dab makeup over the Milky Way and breathe reassurances over Orian’s Belt when she falls into a hug.

Emily pulls him back upright, guides his head to lilt to the side as he sags against her. He can feel Eric’s fingers near his collar, the possessive hand he keeps on Emily at all times. A silent reminder of the power he holds over them all. Emily kisses his temple, oblivious to the mental war happening on both sides of her.

Derek reaches over and smacks his thigh, and encouraging little maneuver he means to comfort Aaron with. Aaron has checked out, arms too heavy to push away from all the touching. Can’t worm out of Emily’s arms or Derek’s comforting hand on his leg. He feels nothing past the tip of his nose. Not Emily’s bones underneath his cheek, her body carved down by Eric’s harmful comments about her weight and the coke he supplies like it’s a love language. Not Derek’s hold on him, the fear he can’t express but feels deep within his churning stomach, that Aaron’s slipping away and they’re all just bystanders to his eventual suicide.

Thursday night he’s woken up by Emily sneaking into his room, the soft click of a glass of water being sat down on his nightstand and the clatter of pills finding their way beside it. She presses her fist into his sternum, applying pressure where he feels like he’s coming unraveled. It’s like her hands are grasping his strayed ends, holding him together like a shredded kite until she can pull the fabric halves back together. “Okay,” she breathes, failing to provide him with steeled calm. His heart is beating so hard against her hand she’s afraid to let go. Her understanding of medicine is narrowed to just knowing you’re not supposed to put a bandaid on a burn. Kids can still have heart attacks, maybe not the over-worked, a little heavy-set dad kind caused by blocked arteries but he’s got the stress level and something certainly isn’t right.

He wakes up alone, doesn’t remember when she left or if she came at all. His only clue is those pills sitting in the perspiration of the now lukewarm water on his nightstand. He can’t move just yet, force his hand out to obtain the pills but he’ll wake up again in a pain-filled haze moved only by such intense pain that he fears sitting still another moment will rip him in half. The pills are slimy as they sit on his tongue and leave their bitter medicine laced into the gulp of water he manages. He’ll turn back over onto his side, pull his knees to his chest, and hope he doesn’t throw them back up.

He writes an essay in the haze of the Rizatriptan six hours later. His brain is only half-working, thoughts jumbled together or not there at all. The migraine lingers, fingers made of cotton muffling the world in a spirling nothing. It’s a similar feeling to being high, the haze is just too much but he has to write this paper because his professor won’t give him another extension -- he would if he knew Aaron needed one but he’s already asked once so he won’t do it again.

Friday the panic sets in.

Everyone is watching him.

Nobody likes him.

Why is he here?

Starfished out on a picnic blanket, Emily is spending her Friday out of the apartment. Armed with a water bottle filled with Vodka, a quilt, and a cooler full of popsicles they stumble their way through the unplowed field behind campus. Spencer hates the bugs and he holds tightly to Emily’s belt, making sure to step where she does as they trample through the too-high grass. Like broken dolls, they fall onto the quilt, familiar with one another enough not to care how they land in the tangle of limbs.

“Emily?”

She hums, not opening her eyes. The sun will remain stubbornly risen for a few more minutes and until it sets she’s trying to soak in every second of its warmth. Until it falls behind the trees and they’re bathed in the moonlight.

“Do you want a drink?”

She opens her hand, holding it up in the general direction of Derek’s voice. The water bottle finds her palm, slightly warm from sitting in the sun and in their laps as it makes its rounds. It feels oddly light but she doesn’t comment. The vodka stings down her throat but it’s familiar and it’s nearly as warm as the sun itself falling down her body.

“Where’s Hotch?”

She passes it to Penelope before laying back down, closing her eyes. “His psychiatrist put him on -” suddenly she can’t remember what it’s called. “Clom-something --”

Spencer looks up, understands this is a place for him to jump in. He feels overwhelmed with his excitement as he helpfully adds, “clomipramine! It’s a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor, SSRI is the short-hand. It increases levels of serotonin in the brain.” He shifts himself, turning closer to them and away from where he’d been watching the blanket's edge for potential bugs trying to crawl near him. “It has the same side-effects as most SSRIs: drowsiness, intestinal upsets, decreased libido, changes in appetite--”

“Woah!” Derek sits up, suddenly paying attention. His eyebrows are scrunched together, alarmed. “He can’t… He won’t be able to like get it up?” He looks at Spencer and then at Emily. “That’s what libido means, man. How’s not being able to have sex going to help him not get all… gummed in the gears? Stuck in his head?” Aaron’s having a hard enough time, it hardly feels like ruining his sex life is the solution to that.

Spencer shakes his head, trying to understand how they’ve moved from facts about antidepressants to Hotch’s sex drive. “What?” If he took a second to think about it, he’d be blushing too hard to even bother with that statement. “No, the brain--”

“Spence,” Emily warns softly. Hotch might not be here to stop them from talking about his sex life but she is and she doesn’t want to talk about it. Besides, it’s none of their business. They’ve seen how bad things can get. “Hotch is basically a nun,” she reminds them. And it’s true. Before anyone diagnosed him, before he even knew something was wrong he wasn’t nearly as adventurous as her or Derek. “He didn’t come today because despite the--” she motions at Spencer.

“The clomipramine,” he supplies.

“Yes, the that, it doesn't work. He has a new psychiatrist, though, and he wants to run through some old stuff again.” She shakes her head, “a stronger dosage and a better plan. I don’t know, I guess we’ll know in another month. He’ll either end up in the hospital again or he’ll be fine.” She shrugs, “right now he’s locked himself in his room.”

There’s a low murmur of understanding and Spencer’s eyes go back to the edge of the blanket. They all remember what happened the last time he had to change medications. Emily had called JJ, the dead of the night making their intensely private and scary conversation seeping with the darkness’s own mixed intensities. Aaron had taken some bad drugs from a guy he didn’t even know, stumbled home, and passed out in his and Emily’s apartment bathroom. Where she found him seizing, choking on his vomit.

They didn’t and couldn’t see him for seventy-two hours, the mandatory hold from the hospital because they ruled it an attempted suicide and Aaron didn’t even try to put up a fight and say it was something else.

Friday night when she stumbles home he isn’t there.

His room is empty -- bedsheets are thrown back as if he left in a rush and his desk lamp still on. She feels that fear sink back into her, throat tight and mind racing, but the bathroom door is open, his pills still meticulously organized in the cabinet over the sink. Even his toothbrush is in the dish. So wherever he is, he won’t be gone long. She stills warns the others, asks them to look out for him or to, at the very least, expect his imminent arrival.

Derek offers to drive around and look for him.

Emily lets him do it, give him something to do -- he would have done it even if she told him it was unnecessary. She’s fairly certain she knows where he is.

Sure enough, she gets the call Monday morning at 7:30.

He does this every once in a while. As often as he can without them enforcing a longer hold, without it going on some sort of record that might prohibit getting a job. She doesn’t really understand why. He hates the mental hospital. Complains that it’s freezing cold and he hates the entire function and yet, here she is spending her Monday morning picking him up. This makes only about the fourth time since she’s known him but how many times has he just made the decision to walk? How many times hasn’t he called her to pick him up?

“You have got to stop walking here.” She rolls the window down first, shouting out at him as she pulls to a stop. He looks better than he had Friday morning when she invited him out to the field with the rest of them. She’d barely managed to get him to sit up, feeding pills between his pale lips, and then pulling his blanket back up over his shoulders. Shutting the blinds and leaving him a glass of water. Maybe she should have just offered to take him then, she’d known with hindsight this is where he would be.

He opens the backdoor without saying a word, crawls into the backseat, and curls up across the seats. He’s wearing a sweatshirt they must have given him, shoes not even on just held by the tips of his curled fingers. They land with a thud on the floor and all the response she gets is a pair of grippy socks landing on her passenger seat, the wordless thanks for picking him up… again.

“Class or home?” she asks, pulling out of the parking lot.

“Class.”

She did bring his bookbag with her, it’s sitting on the floor beside her own, but she will not be taking him to class. He recognizes that when she pulls out of the exit when she turns left instead of right. He grunts but doesn’t say anything, opting to curl further into himself. Protecting his head from an unseen threat.

The rest is practice. He’s foggy from the medicine they give him, always something different from what he’s taken. It’s meant to bring him down, strengthen his haze, and keep him calm. To shut his mind up -- and it’s good, it really does work. It just makes him so exhausted.

“Get your big butt--” Emily has to help him get into his bed and just as he’s about to apologize -- mouth hung open and his eyes squinting as he tries to force sluggish thoughts through a brain that hasn’t worked in days -- she climbs up after him.

His head hits the pillow and his mind goes blank, can’t even form the “I’m sorry” trying to trip its way out of his mouth.

Within seconds she’s laying down beside him, wiggling down under the covers and pulling them up over them. “Derek was pretty pissed you left again without telling us,” she whispers. It takes her a moment but she leans back up and pulls the blinds down, shuts the light from outside from coming in. Then she’s right back beside him, head on his chest. “You’ve got to stop doing that, Aaron. It’s-- It’s--” cruel.

Breathlessly he whispers, “sorry.” It’s all he can manage, drugs still heavy in his bloodstream and eyes forced shut, to move his hand to her back. To try and convey more than what he’s capable of with words that he didn’t mean to scare her. He just scared himself.

She turns her face into his sweatshirt and lets out a little sob, holding onto him. “I think I’m going to break up with Eric.” She’d come up with a thousand reasons Aaron would have disappeared, even as logic dictated where she knew he was. Her fear covered everything until she was sat wondering if she was making things worse for Aaron. His anxiety and migraines and everything else. Was she adding to his stresses or helping?

Coming home and having to ask him to relive parts of his childhood for her… Having him dab foundation over her bruises with his tremoring hands knowing he was thinking about his mother. That he was thinking about doing this exact exercise on himself, covering bruises his father left across his own face. Dabbing blood away and whispering empty, useless promises.

“Okay,” he whispers.

His mother had offered him that same lie a thousand times. She’d drawn lines in the sand and washed them away the next morning with the reconstruction of a wave -- thin cold fingers touching a bruise and asking what happened. As if she hadn’t watched. As if she hadn’t picked him up off the floor and hidden him away in his room, draping her body over his.

“I mean it,” she whispers, her tone mixed with conviction she doesn’t have.

“I know.” He’ll pretend to not remember this conversation when she goes bar crawling with Eric Thursday night. He’ll avoid the other’s eyes when they look at him for some sort of explanation, why she’s taken by her promise this time. But for now, he’s tired and he’s warm and he feels safe. He’ll call Spencer and Penelope later and apologize for blowing off the plans they had to watch Doctor Who, act like they all don’t know where he’s been.

“I love you.”

He squeezes her hips, gives in to his exhaustion. “I love you too.”

#abuse #child abuse #alcohol #suicide attempt #mental health #drugs #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss

[xxdragonwriterxx]

hi! i'm so sorry to hear you haven't been feeling well, i also suffer from migraines and they're the worst. i was hoping to request levi and his s/o (who only recently started dating) and they're playing around, like play fighting/wrestling, and his s/o finds that he's extremely ticklish and a little embarrassed by it bc he had no idea?🥺 (but of course that's how s/o wins the fight hehe) thank you for taking the time to even just read this!

A/N: Hi anon! Thank you for the kind words, I’m feeling better now! Thankfully, my migraines don’t happen very often, but when they do, they are really bad. But I haven’t had one for a little while so that’s good! I’m sorry you suffer from them too, they really are the worst 🙄. Thank you for requesting! This was a really sweet, fluffy request and I really enjoyed writing it. Embarrassed Levi is cutest Levi. I hope this was what you were looking for! Enjoy! ❤️❤️

🐉 Song Recommendation: “A Closeness” By: Dermot Kennedy 🐉

Word Count: ~2.9k

~~~

🔥Unexpected Sensitivity🔥

“Asshole.”

(Y/N) barely managed to refrain from rolling her eyes as she tried to ignore the raven-haired man sitting on the opposite end of the couch and turned back to her book. She was able to get through another two sentences before a loud huff and a low grumble of annoyance once again drew her away from the story.

(Y/N) threw him a glare, “Levi, I told you, I am four fucking chapters away from finishing this book, can you please just entertain yourself until then? It won’t be much longer.” 

She gritted her teeth when Levi made no attempt to keep from rolling his eyes, sending a scowl right back at her, “I’m bored.”

“Well that’s too bad. Last time I checked, I was not your babysitter.”

Normally, (Y/N) enjoyed when Levi was needy for her attention. She loved how she was the only one who got to see that side of him. Their relationship was relatively new, so she had had to work hard to get him to open up around her. She was proud that she had finally managed to get him to relax around her, of how far he’d come, and it made her heart melt when he craved her affection, like a cat begging to be petted.

But recently, Levi had been begging for her attention a lot. She had no idea what had made these past few days so different, but it was starting to wear her out. Now, whenever he wasn’t working, he wanted to be at the center of her attention, no matter if she was already busy, and it was starting to grate on her nerves a little. 

Was it really too much to ask to let her finish her book? She was known to be a very quick reader, it shouldn’t have taken long, but she had barely made a dent in the last few chapters because she was constantly being distracted.

Levi frowned at her and crossed his arms. He really was acting like a petulant child, and while it was annoying as hell, a part of (Y/N) couldn’t deny that she found it a little cute. Especially since she knew his behavior was coming from a place of love. She hadn’t forgotten how lucky she was to even have him acting like this with her, but that didn’t mean she had to enjoy it every time. Especially when he was being this intense about it.

“Asshole.”

“Levi, for the love of god!” (Y/N) snapped, slamming her book shut and tossing it to the side. “How hard is it for you to just let me read four bloody chapters? I told you I would give you attention as soon as I was done! I just wanted to know the ending, you know this is a book I’ve been looking forward to finishing for days.”

Levi raised an eyebrow at her, “Is some boring old book more interesting to you than me?”

Oh my god. She was going to kill him.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and forced herself to stay calm, “Of course not, Levi. But that doesn’t mean I have to be with you every second of every day. I just wanted to know what happened in the end, that’s all. Why is that such a big deal?”

“Because I want you to cuddle me, damn it,” he mumbled, his eyes averted from her face and a light tinge of pink on his cheeks.

(Y/N) immediately felt her anger wash away. She could still feel a little bit of irritation prickling in her chest but she ignored it, choosing to focus more on the warm feeling that blossomed throughout her whole body at his words. Yes, her boyfriend could be annoying as hell sometimes, but she couldn’t deny how adorable he was, wanting affection but embarrassed by the fact. She didn’t show it, but she was proud of him for even gaining the courage to say something. While they had only been dating for two months, she had never heard him directly ask for anything, it was always buried beneath a mask of sarcasm or annoyance.

Levi watched her features soften and felt the corners of his lips curl upwards as she sighed, knowing he had finally won. He knew that when she sighed like that, she was going to give in. His heart warmed at the thought that she found him difficult to resist, even when she was clearly annoyed with him.

He knew he was being shitty, but he just couldn’t help it. Not with her anyway. She was not his first girlfriend by any means, but she was the first girl he felt he had a genuine connection with. The first girl he genuinely loved. His past girlfriends had been nothing but trials, mostly set up by his friends, trying to show him that dating could be fun. He hadn’t believed them until he met (Y/N).

Now, he couldn’t get enough. He knew it was partially unfair to her, even if he knew she  secretly loved it. He knew he was being invasive and annoying but at the moment, he just didn’t care. He was aching to feel her pressed against him, her arms wrapped lovingly around his waist and her head on his shoulder. His arms itched to pull her close and relish in the way she fit perfectly against him, as if they had been made for each other. He had never felt this way with anyone else, but now that he had, he craved it. He had never realized just how touch-starved he was until (Y/N) entered his life, and now he burned to be by her side, even if she didn’t always want him there.

“Alright, fine. But you have to promise to let me finish my book later, okay?”

(Y/N)’s words snapped him out of his thoughts and he nodded too quickly for it to be as nonchalant as he wanted it to look. (Y/N) rolled her eyes affectionately and gave him a warm smile that had his heart beating a swift tattoo against his chest.

Levi moved his legs from where they had been laying lengthwise on the sofa cushions as (Y/N) approached, turning his body so he was seated normally, giving her the room to settle down beside him. He immediately felt himself relax as soon as she curled up against him, a satisfied sigh leaving his parted lips.

“Relieved are you?” (Y/N) teased.

Levi thought about teasing her back, but suddenly found himself too sleepy to engage in their usual banter, her comforting presence making him feel drowsy. “Yes.”

(Y/N)’s cheeks heated, not expecting the straightforward answer, “I’m still mad at you for being so obnoxious.”

“Mm.”

“And you’re not sorry for it at all, are you?”

“Mm, no.”

“Pain in the ass,” (Y/N) mumbled affectionately, nuzzling her face into his chest.

(Y/N) was just about to drift off, enjoying the comfort of cuddling with her boyfriend despite her earlier reluctance, when a sudden sharp jab in her side made her jolt up with a yelp.

“Ow! What the hell, Levi!?”

“You called me a pain in the ass,” Levi grumped.

“Yeah, so? You called me an asshole. Twice!” (Y/N) said, leaning over to give him a hard poke in the shoulder.

“Tch,” Levi said, giving her another poke, this time on her thigh.

(Y/N)’s retaliation quickly led to a fierce battle between the two, annoyed huffs devolving into genuine chuckles and shrieks of joy as the two fought, the war only growing more intense when (Y/N) straddled Levi’s thighs to better reach him.

“Brat, stop poking me!”

“You stop poking me, then!”

“Fine,” Levi said, the mischievous look on his face making (Y/N) nervous.

Before she could react, Levi pushed her off of him and pinned her to the couch, hovering over her. (Y/N) laughed, her eyes sparkling, “Oh, how romantic, Levi.”

Levi snorted at her as he moved lower, slinking down her body, his own eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth.

“Levi? What are you doing?”

“You told me to stop poking you, so I stopped. But that doesn’t mean this is over.”

“What the fuck does that mean- AH!” (Y/N) cried out in surprise as Levi’s fingers ran up the bottoms of her feet. “LEVI!”

Levi merely chuckled in response, reaching down to tickle her feet again. He smirked when she writhed and squirmed beneath his strong grip, tears of desperation spilling from the corners of her eyes as her loud laughter filled the apartment.

“Levi! Levi, stop! I can’t- I can’t breathe!”

Levi thought about letting up, but he was having too much fun. He quickly doubled down on his efforts, laughing quietly at the loud squeal she let out in response, trying to jerk her feet from his touch.

(Y/N) was getting desperate. He had her pinned by the hips to the couch with his incredible strength and he wasn’t stopping his assault on her poor feet. She tried to wrench them  from his grip to no avail, his cocky smile and bright silver hues making her want to slap that look of smugness off of his face. 

Frantically looking for a way to escape, (Y/N) suddenly remembered that her hands weren’t being held down. She had her own fingers she could use. She knew it would be no use trying to pry his fingers off, he was much too strong for that, so she did the next best thing.

She blindly latched onto him, her fingers flying over his skin as she searched for a weak point, a tender spot, anything. Levi was finally starting to slow down his attack, his fingers only lightly brushing her skin to watch her jump while she caught her breath, but she was determined to get back at him.

“(Y/N)? What are you doing?” Levi asked, finally taking his fingers away from her sensitive skin and leaning back on his haunches. His eyebrow rose when she followed him, her hands still moving all over his body.

“What do you think I’m doing, idiot?”

Levi smirked down at the woman that was now back in his lap, her brow furrowed in concentration as she poked and prodded beneath his shirt, practically feeling him up as she tried to find where he was the most sensitive.

“Nice try, brat. But unfortunately for you, I’m not tickLISH-!”

(Y/N) and Levi both froze.

Levi’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide and his hands loosened from where they had been holding onto (Y/N)’s waist. He had never, in his entire life, made a noise like that before. It sounded like the cross between a yelp of surprise and a barked out laugh. He was still uncertain if it had indeed been him that had made the noise, it sounded so unlike him, so foreign to his ears he couldn’t be sure.

(Y/N) was just as shocked. Had Levi really just squawked? That was probably the only way you could describe the noise that had just come from her boyfriend’s mouth, even though it seemed like the kind of word you would never in a million years associate with Levi Ackerman.

While she was certainly surprised, she recuperated faster than Levi, a deviant smile spreading across her face as she suddenly realized the power she held. She noticed Levi’s eyes narrow on her borderline evil expression, but his dazed state made his reaction time slower than normal. Before he knew it, he was on his back, her legs straddled over his hips, his wrists held in one of her hands while the other was snaking back beneath his shirt, aiming for the spot along his upper ribs.

He tried to squirm away, but he underestimated her strength as she pressed her full weight into him and tightened her grip on his wrists, holding him there as she brushed her fingers along the spot that he hadn’t even known would make him go crazy.

To his horror, another loud cry was ripped from his throat, quickly turning into loud, rich laughter that rang out and bounced off the walls as she tickled him. He tried to flash her a warning glare but she only smiled wider, followed by a slight shake of her head.

Fuck, she was going to show no mercy.

Tears gathered in his eyes as she continued to attack the sensitive flesh in the same way he did to her, his body losing all control. He wriggled and arched, trying to escape her torturous fingers, until he was finally able to free one of his hands. (Y/N) tried to hold on, but as soon as one of his hands was free, she was quickly shoved off of him, her own laughter joining his as she was pushed from the couch to land with a satisfying thump on the carpet below.

Levi’s laughter was quick to quiet into soft chuckles before finally fading into heavy breathing, the apartment thick with silence as the pair fought to catch their breath, unwilling to move for a while.

“Whew,” (Y/N) said, eventually breaking the silence. “Who knew the fearsome Levi Ackerman was ticklish, huh?”

(Y/N) was smiling, a hand coming up to cover her mouth to stifle the giggles that tried to filter into the room at her teasing, but when he didn’t respond, (Y/N) grew worried.

“Levi?”

(Y/N) sat up, and quickly lost all feelings of giddiness at the sight of Levi, turned away from her with his knees brought up to his chest, his hands covering his face, and his back hunched slightly, so different from how he normally was it almost made her panic.

“Levi! Are you alright?”

It took him a moment, but Levi eventually nodded once, refusing to remove his hands from his face. His response calmed (Y/N) down somewhat, but concern still coursed through her as she gently eased onto the couch beside him, her palm reaching out to rest on his back.

“Levi, what’s wrong?”

A quiet mumble reached her ears, but his hands were muffling most of the words. Even when she strained her ears she couldn’t understand what he was saying, but she did notice his face get a tinge more pink, especially on the tips of his ears.

“I’m sorry, babe, I couldn’t hear you. Can you repeat that?”

Levi huffed in annoyance, and it was enough to bring another small smile back onto (Y/N)’s face. He then shifted his hands, uncovering only enough to free his mouth.

“I said, I’m… embarrassed…” He trailed off at the end, the last word much quieter than the others, but (Y/N) heard him loud and clear. She immediately felt a wave of relief and guilt wash over her.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Levi. I really didn’t mean to embarrass you like that, I thought we were just having fun. I never want you to feel uncomfortable around me, ever. I’m sorry, I never should’ve pushed your boundaries like that.”

Levi finally removed his hands from his face and turned around to look at her. His face was still red and his eyes were slightly swollen from the tears he had shed during their intense battle but his expression was soft. He reached up and brushed his fingers along her jaw, affectionately stroking her skin.

“It’s not your fault. I attacked you first,” Levi said. “I didn’t even mind it that much at first, I just didn’t expect to react… like that.”

“Levi, it’s okay! Everyone reacts like that, that’s why nobody likes to be tickled. I mean, you heard me! I didn’t sound any better.”

Levi smirked, the beginnings of a sparkle coming back into his eye, “Yeah, you sounded like a donkey with a sore throat. Or maybe a dying bird.”

“Hey!” (Y/N) said, slapping his shoulder playfully with a false pout. “That’s mean!”

“But true.”

“Oh, do we want to go back to what you sounded like?”

“Oi, watch it, brat.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Levi gave (Y/N) a light-hearted shove before standing up to stretch, his shirt riding up to show off a bit of his muscular back as he brought his arms above his head. (Y/N) followed him with a large grin on her face when he moved into the kitchen, intent on making tea and forgetting the whole experience. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as Levi heated the water and (Y/N) grabbed the tea leaves, the pair working together seamlessly despite their short time spent as a couple.

When the tea was finally finished, Levi offered a cup to (Y/N), who took it gratefully, before leaning against the counter and taking a sip. (Y/N) watched as Levi closed his eyes and hummed in pleasure at the taste, his body finally starting to unwind again. Her eyes swept over him, her heart beating a steady drum for the man beside her. She loved him so much, felt so lucky to have him, and while the tickle fight had certainly been an experience, she couldn’t wait to have many more adventures just like that with him by her side.

“Hey, Levi?”

“Yeah brat?”

“For the record, I think your laugh is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.”

#levi attack on titan #Levi fanfiction #levi #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #aot levi #aot fanfiction #aot #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #attack on titan x reader #snk levi #snk fanfiction #snk x reader #snk imagines #snk #reader x levi #reader insert #request #x reader #captain levi fanfiction #captain levi x reader #Captain Levi #levi heichou #shigeki no kyojin #levi x reader #levi x reader

[chuuyasnumber1simp]

All I Ever Wanted- Karma x shy! Reader

ask: Heyyy can you do a oneshot with an karma x shy! Reader please 

@anime-allover 

a/n: hello! thank you for being my first request! this was fun to write, I had a lot of fun with it, as someone who was labeled ‘shy’ for most of my childhood, I think I got a lil carried away hehe

sorry this is so long! it's more like a mini fic now :/

if this isn’t what you had in mind or want something shorter let me know!

Warnings: A bit of violence at the end, like two curse words 

also, this is highkey inspired by the song “Me and My Husband” by Mitski Mitski

People were often confused by your attitude.

Much to their confusion, you didn’t hate people- others often thought you did.

No, you hated the thought of all the stares, all the eye’s on you.

The thought of all those people judging your every movement, you’re very being, that's what scared you.

You never wanted to downplay your emotions, but the thought of being disliked for who you were was terrifying.

Whenever you entered a room, your skin would crawl with how the people there seemed to size you up, like lions looking for a meal. Unfortunately, you were the poor gazelle.

By no means were you helpless. No, you were far from it. It was simply a matter of finding someone who would accept you for who you were, for all your quirks and flaws.

The search for that person was what put you in the dreaded class 3-E in the first place.

Unable to click with anyone in your class, you became discouraged, causing your grades to slip. Going to a class where nobody liked you made you nauseous, and that was your breaking point.

So here you were. Three months into the first semester and you already dropped this low. You couldn’t even muster up the courage to go to the mandatory meeting where the teachers were supposed to brief you on your life in this class. You didn’t see the point of going to a meeting where all they would do was berate you for falling behind, so you simply did not attend.

That was your first mistake.

Mentally preparing for seeing all eyes on you, you opened the door.

You had prepared for a classroom full of kids staring at you.

You hadn’t however, prepared for a yellow octopus looking thing to look at you as well.

“Good morning Y/N! Welcome to Class 3-E, I am your new teacher Koro-sensei!”

Oh my god, it talks why is it saying it’s my teacher what the hell is going on wow I think the floor is coming to me wait no thAT’S ME FALLING TO THE FLOOR-

If you were conscious, you would have been absolutely mortified at the thought of fainting in front of the class, but alas, you were not. For now.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain redhead had doubled over laughing in the back row.

“She didn’t even scream! Just plop face down on the floor!”

The blue-haired boy he was acquainted with yelled at him.

“Karma! Leave her alone!” though, his reply went unheard over the uproar of laughter resulting from Karma’s comment.

Shaking his head, Nagisa walked up to the front of the classroom where you were still passed out, and lightly shook your shoulder.

“Y/N? Hey um, are you okay?”

Slowly regaining consciousness, you tried to look u and see who roused you from your slumber.

“Mom? What time is it-” The face you saw was that of your mother, but one of the kids in your class.

“Oh um I guess you don’t remember, but you just fainted after seeing Koro-sensei. I'm Nagisa Shiota, and uh-oh,” Nagisa paused before fishing a hanker-chief out of his pocket. “Your nose is bleeding,”

Nagisa seemed to sense that you were still in shock about the quick succession of events in such a short amount of time, so he gently took your hand and placed the white cloth in it. 

“Your seat is in the back row, next to the boy with the red hair. His name is Karma,”

“And I’m your best friend, right Nagisa?” the boy -Karama- shouted back.

“More like my worst nightmare,” Nagisa grumbled, though from the look in his eyes you could tell he didn’t really mean it.

On shaky legs, you stood up and walked to your seat beside Karma, tears brimming in your eyes at how some of the kids snickered at your earlier display. Fainting had been the absolute worst way to meet your new class, and though Nagisa at least seemed very kind, you still had no idea what the octopus thing -Koro-sensei- was doing here.

Setting your bag down, you sat in your seat, folded your arms, and rested your head in them, hoping to block everything out, even for just a moment.

Something poking your arm roused you from your small mental breakdown, and you lifted your head to see Karma poking you with the end of his pencil.

Looking around the classroom, it was like your worst fear had come true.

Every single pair of eyes in the room was on you, some even pointing.

“Y/N? Were you listening?” Koro-sensei asked from the front.

You swore everyone could hear your heart by now, you ran your hands together in an attempt to calm yourself down.

“I-I’m sorry sir, could y-you repeat that?” At this point, the only thing that could make this day worse is if he made you introduce yourself to the class.

“I was asking if you would mind introducing yourself to the class?”

motherfu-

“O-oh okay, um, my name is Y/N L/N, and if I'm being completely honest, I have absolutely no idea what's going on,”

“Oh? Did you not attend the teacher’s briefing?”

It seemed that had indeed been a bad choice on your part.

“Um no? I didn’t want any more people to yell at me about my grades, so I didn’t go I guess. I'm sorry,” You cringed internally, hearing your voice get quieter the longer you spoke. You swore, whenever you didn’t know somebody it was like some weird nervous person took over and you turned into a stuttering mess.

“It is quite alright Y/N! It was actually required by the government for you to attend, as it explained my presence and your mission here in 3-E, but I’ll tell them you were sick and couldn’t attend,”

You were taken aback by Koro-sensei’s forgiving attitude, expecting a much harsher rebuke.

“T-thank you very much, sir,”

“You may sit down now, I’ll have Karma and Nagisa explain everything after class, they are the most knowledgeable on the subject. This will also give you the opportunity to meet your new classmates!”

You merely nodded from your seat, unable to will your voice to make a single sound.

The class passed fairly quickly, and you were quite surprised at how well Koro-sensei taught. You never excelled in math, but the way he explained things seemed to click in your brain. It was a pleasant change from the fast-passed, stressful lessons you were accustomed to before.

Light tapping on your desk roused you from your thoughts.

“Hey, it’s Nagisa again. Me and Karma are supposed to explain things to you. Do you mind if we do it while we eat?”

You nodded your head vigorously, eating always calmed you down.

“Alright, I’ll pull up a chair and we can share a desk if you don’t mind?”

You shook your head no, and turned to Karma, wondering what his lunch was.

You’re eyes practically leapt out of your head at the four bento’s filled with extravagant food he pulled out of his bag. You practically started drooling at the thought of eating all that delicious food, and you were tempted to steal one while he wasn’t looking. All you had was a sandwich, and suddenly the thought of eating it didn’t seem so appealing.

“Do you want one?”

The sudden question surprised you, you hadn’t known Karma for very long, but he didn’t seem like the type to share.

“Oh I'm sorry I didn’t mean to stare it just looked really good and you had a lot more than I thoughtandimsorryimtalkingwaytoomuchillshutupnow,”

Karma whistled at the sheer speed at which you spoke, and you tuned your now warm face towards your desk, hoping he wouldn’t notice just how embarrassed you were.

The view of the desk seemed very appealing, but what was more appealing was the bento that was slid across your desk.

“Just eat it. I highly doubt that little sandwich is going to keep you going all day. You looked so pale when I offered I thought you were going to face plant again,”

“You’re right I'm so hungrythankyousomuch,”

You ate the food with fervor, relishing how the flavors danced on your tongue.

You hadn’t expected fainting and being given a bento box to be the start of a friendship, but here you were.

It had been two weeks since you fainted in front of everyone, and you were finally started to warm up to everyone.

They were all honestly very nice, though a bit annoying sometimes, they didn’t seem like bad kids.

And ever since that first day, Karma had brought a bento, just for you.

It was different every day, but the fact that he cared about you from the small interaction to bring you food warmed your heart.

Now, you were animatedly discussing assassination tactics with Nagisa, Karma sipping on strawberry milk- like usual.

“You know,” Karma said, putting down his strawberry milk. “You do this thing whenever you get excited Y/N. Your eyes light up and you talk like a million miles an hour,”

You shrunk inside of yourself at his comment, thinking he was making fun of your habit.

“It’s cute,”

You snapped your face up to his, surprised. No one had ever referred to you as cute before. Sure, there was the occasional creepy guy that would catcall you or the pervy boys in your old class that tried to look up your skirt, but that was about it. Usually, it was always you’re such a weirdo, or you can’t even talk right, you must be stupid.

That thought played on loop in your head for days. Just that single comment.

Karma thought you were cute.

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

You had avoided it for long enough, faking illness, ‘accidentally’ rolling your ankle, conveniently getting a migraine, but you could avoid it no longer.

P.E.

It’s not that you were bad at it- quite the opposite actually.

You just didn’t want your classmates to think you were showing off, and you still weren't a hundred percent comfortable with the thought of killing Koro-sensei. Your parents stopped talking to you after you were transferred to 3-E, so he was the most supportive adult figure in your life right now.

But unfortunately, he had also seen right through your attempt and falling ill today, so here you were, lined up with everyone else, ready wishing this was over.

“Alright everyone, today we’ll be going over flexibility and acrobatics. Both are key aspects of assassination, especially for getting yourself out of sticky situations,”

Great. Now everyone will definitely think your showing off.

“We have bars, a trampoline, and mats to test your skills in these areas. Please begin stretching to prepare,”

Karma leaned over to whisper in your ear: “Dude, you look constipated. What’s up?”

You gritted your teeth in dread, completely ignoring Karma’s comment about your face. “I’m good at this,”

“What?”

“I’m good at this stuff. That’s the problem,”

“I think you need to go to the nurse's office because that doesn’t make any sense. If your good at it, then what’s there to worry about?”

Oh how you wished you had Karma’s attitude, but your brain simply did not work like that.

He sighed next to you, then reached out a hand to ruffle your hair. The action caused your brain to short-circuit, and while you previously were imagining all the different ways this could go wrong, the only thing you were able to process was Karma’s hand on your head.

“Whatever you're overthinking in that pretty little head of yours, I promise it’s not going to be as bad as you think it is, so stop worrying. You make an ugly face when you think too hard,”

“Y/N. It’s your turn,”

Karma retracted his hand at Karasuma’s voice, leaving your an anxiety-filled blushing mess.

You breathed slowly and stepped up to the mats, flexibility being the first test.

Looking back into the crowd, you noticed Nagisa giving you a thumbs up and Karma smiling at you. Seeing them silently root for you gave you a bit of courage, so you slid into the splits with ease, stood back up, the bent into a back-bend. Next was a kick over, then a handstand, all executed to perfection.

Not giving yourself time to overthink and panic, you turned to the bars and performed your moves with grace, just as you did at gymnastics practice.

Lastly was your specialty- the trampoline.

Usually, the trampoline was a tumbling mat, but you would just have to make do.

The trampoline was long, spanning about 20 feet. Longer than your usual routine, but that was nothing you couldn’t handle.

Getting a running start, you front flipped, then, using your momentum, did a front handspring. Jumping up once more you did four back handsprings in a row, backflipped, then as a final move, an aerial. You cursed internally, as your hands flew up in the air in the judges salute, something you did on instinct after doing gymnastics for so long.

Shocked to hear shouts and clapping, you turned to the crowd of students who rushed at you.

“That was amazing Y/N!”

“Who knew you were secretly talented!”

“Could you teach me how to do that no hands front flip thingy?”

“Alright alright, let the poor girl breathe,” Karasuma shooed the class away, then turned back to you. “That was very impressive Y/N. If you could coordinate that into assassination, I'm sure you could go far.”

You gave him a real, genuine smile. “Thank you very much, sir!”

Karma’s POV:

Karma didn’t quite understand the feeling in his chest. It wasn’t like the feeling he got when he attempted to assassinate Koro-sensei, or how it felt to break someone’s nose.

No, this was different. Something he had never felt before you.

The way his heart fluttered in his chest at how graceful you looked. Or how he wished it was him you had given that shining smile too.

And it wouldn’t go away.

He started to notice that after you came out of your shell, you smiled a lot more. Your eyes lit up, and he adored the way you chewed your lip when you were worrying about something.

Karma Akabane never thought he’d used the word adored to describe something he felt, but here he was, adoring a new aspect of you each day.

He would lay awake at night, inside his cold, empty mansion, thinking it would be better if you were in it.

Wondering if you felt the same way about him.

He couldn’t bear to think that you didn’t. This new feeling, one he’d never felt before, was both exhilarating and terrifying.

And he had no idea what to do.

Nagisa’s POV:

Nagisa had genuinely never seen Karma liked this before.

It was almost unnerving at first, the way he looked at you like he was stranded in the desert, and you were an oasis, calm and beautiful.

In all his time, Nagisa had never seen Karma in love before.

To someone who hadn’t known Karma along as he had, the way his eye’s got soft when he looked at you, or the way you could always bring him out of a bad mood would go unnoticed.

But Nagisa noticed.

The perceptive boy had also picked up on how you opened up when Karma was around, how you looked at him like he was the only person in the room. The way that whenever you bumped into each other, both of you would linger just a little bit longer than necessary. How when you dropped your pencil last Thursday, and Karma’s fingers grazed yours, both of your faces turned red.

It was almost hard to watch you both pining so obviously over each other, and then do absolutely nothing about it.

What he did not know, was that his annoyance would be short-lived, because no one was expecting what would happen the following week.

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

It was all because of those Class B jerks.

They had been your old classmates, and you were just trying to walk to the bus, Karma and Nagisa in tow when they had to show up.

“Hey look! The freak finally found her place, among the other freaks!”

“It’s fitting for her. I mean, you can’t be that weird and not get put in 3-E. Forget about grades, they should have chucked her into that dump the second she arrived!”

To say you snapped would be an understatement.

Nagisa had looked over to you, hoping to provide comfort, but the look on your face would put Karma’s to shame.

You flew towards the two boys, faster than Nagisa thought was possible, and punched the first one straight in the face.

Nagisa flinched internally, watching the blood spurt from his nose, as he actually flew backward from the force of your fist.

The second one was already trying to get a hit in on you, and Nagisa could see Karma was about to step in, but he stopped when he saw you grab the second guy's face, and slam it into your awaiting knee.

“Shut up,” He collapsed on the ground, and you crouched down so you were eye-level with him.

“Listen. I’m in 3-E now. I cannot sink any lower than this, so there’s nothing for me to lose right? So I suggest you tell all your little friends that I will not hesitate to do to them what I just did to you. Got it?”

Both shook their heads, then scrambled away from you, clutching their respective faces.

Your POV:

Your knuckles hurt. Punching someone with that much force was much more painful than they showed in movies.

And, deep down, you were scared what the boys said was true.

You were quiet and reserved, and your interests never matched those around you, and now here you were, blood dripping off your knuckles, tights ripped, hair disheveled, and they were right.

You were a freak.

Karma probably only hung out with you out of pity, why else would he?

And Nagisa only did out of obligation, after all, he couldn’t be Karma’s friend and then not yours, right?

You weren’t even aware you were crying until the tears dripped onto the pavement below your face.

“Y/N? are you okay?”

It was quiet for once inside your head. Too quiet.

“It’s okay Karma. You don’t have to feel pity for me anymore. You can ignore me, and go back to how things were before. I’m okay with being alone,” Despite your words, your voice wobbled and more tears sprung from your eyes.

“Hey. Look at me,” Karma cupped your face with his hands, wiping away a tear with his thumb.

“I hang out with you because I want to. Those guys didn’t know what they were talking about. You’re beautiful and smart, and so devoted. I’ve always loved that about you,”

He said ‘loved”

“You looked badass just now. Don’t think you going crazy on those jerks is going to make me change the way I see you. If you think I’m that shallow, then you’re stupid.

I love the way you chew your lip when your worried, and I love the way you always try so hard in math even though you’re not that good at it. I love the way that you adore the weirdest things, like snakes and old music, and I love how you smile at me when you think I’m not looking,”

Crap he noticed-

“And finally, I love you Y/N. Will you be my girlfriend?”

You beamed at him, hearing the words you had always dreamed of hearing.

“Yes. Please,”

He hugged you close to his body, as he could protect you from all the bad in the world, and you relished the way his arms wrapped around you.

“Can I kiss you?”

Instead of giving him an answer, you leaned up and tilted your head so it fit perfectly against his.

Despite all the strawberry milk he drinks, he tasted like cinnamon sugar, an almost bittersweet flavor. He melted into your touch, and his breath tickled your nose when he pulled away.

A light cough from ten feet away reminded you that Nagisa was still here, and you instantly withdrew from Karma’s embrace, smoothing down your uniform.

“Nagisa~ Look who just got a girlfriend,”

“Shut up,” You lightly punched his arm, but you also let your hand entwine with his.

And this was all you ever wanted.

a/n: i read somewhere that Karma’s parents r like super rich so he lives in a mansion????

#karma #karma akabane #karma x reader #karma akabane x reader #assassination classroom #lol i got really carried away #sorry about that

[gwynposting]

Justice (Ch. 1)

This is the start of an alternate ending for Cyberunk 2077, focused around Judy as she tries to help V rid herself of the relic without also shedding her soul in the process.

AO3 Link

The feigning scent of nicotine clouds leftover from the trapped remnants of Maiko’s cigarette sent itching pulses of desire through V’s body. The activation throughout her body startled and scared her. She didn’t smoke. She hadn’t puffed a stick in her life and yet she eased into it like she was sitting in a favorite chair. More than once had she caught herself reaching for a cigarette from Evelyn’s pack before swiping the inner thoughts of Johnny away.

The clack of Maiko’s stilettos began to fade into the background, “Maiko, hold up. Give us a lift?” Roxanne called out.

“Only if you don’t talk to me,” Maiko responded bitterly, “I feel a migraine coming on.”

She’s not the only one, V thought to herself. It almost felt like the cigarette fumes had been a trigger for it - like her brain was trying to associate the smell to memories that she’s never experienced before, that never existed. Flashes of seething bitter hatred and insecurity and jealousy pulsed through her veins came and went.

It took the breath out of her, and V had to brace herself with both hands to remain upright.

“Oh shit,” Judy said as she siddled besides V, “I’m scared, V.”

Judy looked down to her lap before continuing, “Speakin’ of gratitude… stuff I’m askin’ you to do, well - usually comes with a price tag, I know. You wanna help, I get that. But I’m more’n happy to pay your fee in full.”

V shifted her weight to her right arm so she could wave Judy away with her left, “C’mon Judy, you serious? Out of the question.”

“Bu-” Judy tried to make her case.

“Ah ah ah,” V tutted, “Not… not a word,” dizziness began to set in - her head began to swim and V found it difficult to even complete a sentence. She tried to provide a smile of assurance, but by the expression on Judy’s face, she wasn’t buying it.

“You okay V?” Judy reached out and placed a hand on V’s knee.

V looked up to meet Judy’s concerned eyes, which she could only meet with her own - unfocused and strained. “Don’t worry ‘bout me, just a long day.”

“How ‘bout I call a cab then,” Judy soothed.

“Preem,” V replied, before placing both hands on her knees and trying to lift herself up from the couch. “Thanks -” she began before what felt like electricity shot through her nervous system.

V clutched her head in agony as if it would stop the cosmic force tormenting her from using her skull as a sharpening stone. Every scrape and slice caused by another memory overwriting her brain, another one of her memories lost to time as one more of Johnny Silverhand’s took its place. 

RELIC MALFUNCTION DETECTED

V’s legs gave out from under her. She reached out for the couch’s siding to fall back onto.

But she was far too weak to support herself, and her legs began to give out from under her until she collapsed on the cushion below.

 “V? Are you okay?” Judy’s voice sounded distant.

She barely even heard Judy. She was breathless, her heart raced. She was staring down the barrel of Dexter Deshawn and he had just put a bullet through her skull.

“V?” Judy’s words became more desperate, “Talk to me.”

It sounded like V was underwater and all she could hear were the muffled desperate cries of Judy, until finally Judy reached out and shook her shoulder.

“V,” Judy stressed, “please.”

But as quickly as the searing pain shot through her body, it soon dissipated.  Yet she continued to stare forward, past Judy and into the distance - she still stood down the barrel of Deshawn’s .22.

“S-sorry to scare you like that,” V attempted a smile. Her cheeks were a deep scarlet, whether flush from the pain moments before or from the embarrassment of having Judy bear witness to one of her episodes.

“W-what the fuck, V,” Judy’s voice had a hint of shakiness, “are you like… sick?”

“Something like that,” V said with a gruff. She still felt in a sort of daze, her muscles struggled to keep herself upright. “How much you wanna know?”

Judy tilted her head, “Only what you want to, V. I just want to know if you’re okay.”

V looked off to the side before her eyes rested upon her lap, “Well,” V said with a choke that even caught herself off guard, “Might have bad news for you.”

She attempted to look Judy in the eye but faltered under their piercing worry, “You know the heist that Evelyn hired us for, the relic I was gonna klep?”

“Couldn’t forget that in a million years,” Judy said somberly.

“I’ll spare you the gritty details but… in short the chip we stole’s stuck in my head. The chip is keeping me alive, but it’s also slowly killing me.”

Judy seemed taken aback, “You bein’ serious?”

“Sounds like a lot, I know. Truly wish it was all bullshit, believe me.”

“Fuck,” Judy muttered under her breath, “Anything at all you can do?”

“One can hope,” V withered.

Judy gave a sad smile, “It’s late, you’re tired. You can crash here for the night if you’d like,” Judy gave a reassuring pat on the knee to V.

V could only nod in return, “Thanks, Jude.”

Judy stood up and walked back to her room while V took the opportunity to kick off her boots and lay down on the couch. There wasn’t a pillow to lean on, but V couldn’t care less - she was already half asleep by the time her cheeks touched the couch.

“I got some pillows and a blanket for -” Judy cut herself off as she saw V fast asleep on her couch, arms splayed out and face straight down. She couldn’t help but smile, “Pssh, fuckin’ gonk.”

Judy shifted her weight to the balls of her feet, creeping up to the sleeping merc. With as careful a touch as she could, she cradled V’s head in one hand as she slipped a pillow underneath. She then took the blanket and splayed it atop her body.

Judy looked down upon V’s form and found it hard to take her eyes away. To see such a force of nature so vulnerable, so… 

Adorable…

It sent butterflies to the pit of Judy’s stomach.

But in the same moment those butterflies turned to boulders, sinking within as she felt the gravity of the emotions within - vulnerability.

Of course she’s fucking dying, the dark thoughts appeared in Judy’s head. And while they were immediately beaten back down by conscious thought, she wasn’t able to push down the underlying fear that she’d open herself up to someone once more, only to lose them to the inevitable grind of Night City’s heel. But her mind was no more hostage to her first impulse as she was to her second - there was an ever present war taking place within her.

 How could I be so selfish? She’s fucking dying and I immediately make it about myself.

Judy hadn’t even realized she’d reached for the pack of cigarettes in her pocket until her other hand failed to locate her lighter. Deciding she didn’t want to bother having a fight with herself on a nicotine-deprived brain, she waited until she was back on the roof of her building, lit cigarette in hand, staring out to the NC skyline.

Is it too much to ask for just one thing to go right, she asked herself.

Yet Judy quickly reminded herself, You’re acting like she’s your girlfriend already.

Judy cursed herself at even the thought - she didn’t even know if V was even into women. She took a heavy draw from her cigarette before flicking it off the balcony.

***

Judy’s gaze lingered on V’s sleeping form. Maybe she was looking a bit too close - her eyes focused on a couple strands of hair drooped over V’s face. She had the overwhelming desire to sweep them back over the merc’s ear, but ultimately decided not.

“Goodnight, V.” 

***

Sharp cracks raced through the air. Although used to the familiar tenors, V shot up in an instant - her hair raised on end, breath rapid, and heartbeat racing. More gunfire sprung forth, followed by the screeching squeal of rubber against pavement. The gripping roar of motorcycles soon began to fade into the streets of Kabuki.

V clutched her chest as she tried to calm herself down. She was fine.

For now.

But as the adrenaline began to fade, the throbbing headache leftover from last night’s attack took its place. V groaned in pain as she began to feel her own heartbeat through her head.

“Mornin’, sleepyhead.” Judy called out.

V turned to see Judy in the kitchen making breakfast. She tried to match the energy Judy was bestowed but could only manage a pained half-smile. “Helluva alarm clock.”

“Things have been getting hot between Maelstrom and the Tyger Claws lately,” Judy sighed, “it doesn't help that I live on the border of their territories.”

Judy paused what she was doing and instead took a mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee from the pot. She also grabbed a pill bottle and doled out a couple in her hand and brought them both over to V.

“Coffee and,” she held out her hand for V, dropping its contents into her hand, “ibuprofen. And I hope you like ham.”

“Wow,” V replied, “thanks, Judy. And yeah, I love it.”

“Least I can do.” Judy said with a smile before returning to the kitchen.

Least I can do, she repeated in her thoughts.

V tossed both tablets in her mouth and washed it down with several large gulps of coffee. The scalding liquid coating the inside of her mouth was the least of her concerns, she needed caffeine inside her ASAP.

When Judy was finished, she brought over a fresh ham sandwich. V took it and scarfed it down, only to blush as she realized what a messy eater she was being.

Wiping her lips clean, she looked up to see Judy sitting on the couch a ways away looking vaguely concerned, “Sorry I uh, freaked you out last night.”

“Does that happen a lot?” Judy asked.

V rubbed her neck, not wanting to lay it all on Judy at once, “It’s not usually that bad.”

“C’mon, V. Cut the shit. What’s really going on?”

“No gettin’ around this, huh?” V asked, but really it was more a statement of fact, knowing Judy.

Judy gave a half smile, but it gave away her underlying fears and doubts, “I’m worried, V.”

Something deeper pierced V, she couldn’t pinpoint it. All she knew was she couldn’t deny Judy this request, “You want the long version, then?”

“Call it a thanks for breakfast,” Judy smirked.

“Might want to get comfortable then. Because well, shit, where do I begin?” V thought for a moment before continuing once more, “So, my choom and I, big guy named Jackie, tangled with this hotshot fixer, Dexter Deshawn.”

“He’s the one who put you in contact with Evie?” Judy asked.

V nodded, “Mhm, as well as make us run some errands,” V said with a scoff, “but anyways, the job was to hit Konpeki Plaza, right? Klep some biochip that the son of ‘Saka was stealing for himself.”

“Which is why you came in for the braindances,” Judy affirmed.

“Exactly. But the job went wrong, as you know. I lost Jackie getting out of Konpeki. And…”

“...and?” Judy said, softly, not wanting to sound too impatient.

“I died, Judy. I fucking died.” V shuddered at the thought.

“Are you… are you joking right now?” How are you alive?” Judy leaned forward in disbelief.

“Remember that chip we were stealin’? Well, the container got busted when we were escaping. The next best place to store it was hooked into one of our brains, apparently. Jackie took the honors initially but… well….” V shook her head, “So I slotted the shard in myself after Jackie died.”

“I’m sorry, by the way. Truly,” Judy soothed as she scooched closer across the sofa so that she was now in touching distance between V.

V could really only offer a smile of acknowledgement in return, for she felt nothing but agony when she looked inward. “Guess the biochip was my saving grace - Dexter Deshawn double crossed me, put a bullet in my skull. I died then. But the craziest part is that the chip restarted my brain, god knows how much later. And I woke up to find myself in a junkyard in the badlands, covered in filth in debris.”

“J-Jesus fuck, V.” Judy’s voice hitched, “But I guess you made it out, all things considered.”

V nodded, “Got back only to realize I had the engram of a terrorist in my brain - Johnny Silverhand.”

“Woah, woah,” Judy waved, “engram?”

“Think of it like some digitized psyche, like if someone downloaded your entire brain and saved it to memory. His psyche is on the chip inside me.”

“Okay okay, so like the ‘Saka commercials just… just in your brain.”

“Yeah, something like that. But I guess when it restarted my brain, the chip began erasing me and writing in Johnny.”

“Fuck,” Judy stuttered. “So you’re becoming Johnny Silverhand?”

“Yeah,” V’s voice cracked, tears began to form on high cheekbones. “In a few weeks’ time, I’ll be someone completely different. I won’t even exist.” 

Judy instantly moved to V’s side and wrapped an arm about her, pulling her close. “I wonder what it’ll be like to die for a second time,” V pondered dryly. 

“Is there really nothing you can do?” Judy almost pleaded.

“There’s a few leads. I’m waiting to hear back from a fixer that can put me in touch with the Voodoo Boys, and I still need to look into finding the lead researcher for the biochip.”

“Ok,” Judy breathed deeply, “Alright. Then you focus on that, okay? And listen, I know you said you’d help out with Clouds but this is your life on the line here, V, I’d completely understand if you back out.”

“I said I was helping Judy, and that’s final.” 

V’s assuredness sent a shiver down Judy’s spine - her unwavering voice, despite cracked with emotion moments before, her steadied eyes, still reddened from irritation and tears yet firm in their conviction, and the almost offended expression on her face to even suggest that she’d go back on her promise. 

“Then... keep me posted? About how it goes... If you want,” Judy stumbled over her words. “I want to help if I can.”

“Of course, Judy. And thanks,” V smiled in appreciation.

Even the slightest gesture made Judy’s heart flutter. This gonk will be the death of me. 

#cyberpunk 2077 #judy alvarez #judy x v #female v #v x judy #Justice2077

[timefirewrites]

COMIC SANS INTRO

Taglist (ask to be added/removed): @black-lakritz-dragon​​ @marewriteblr​​ @spacetimewraithwrites​ @emmaschoutenwrites​

ID under the cut would’ve prefered to put it here, but the post is already super long, sorry

[ID: thirteen google presentation slides, all written in the font comic sans, black text on a white background.

1. Title: “Gay Space Pirates", subtitle: “thats it thats the story”

2. Title: “What.” Text:

Okay so, everyone is queer

Literally, there’s not a single cishet character in this story

I’m not sorry <3

Most of the cast are non-humans, but the ones that aren’t are super diverse

Transfem muslim gal, intersex nerd with vitiligo, nonbinary overweight dumbass, I’ve got them all

There are also some disabled and mute characters

Oh, also they’re all neurodivergent because I said so

3. Title: “Setting!”, Text:

So, humans discovered aliens are real

and joined their Intergalactic Union

(which is definitely not evil)

That happened about 300 years ago and humans are now vibing all over the galaxy

Sounds great, right?

Well, for most humans, sure, but the ones who had to stay behind on Earth because they couldn’t afford space travel don’t like it as much

The situation on Earth is kind of shitty, and some people want to leave

4. Title: “pLoT??”, Text:

Neb is one of those people

They got an amazing plan to “borrow” a spaceship and never look back

Problem: Neb didn’t account for a robot to suddenly accompany them

The plan kind of fails real bad, but in the end the two escape from Earth

And immediately get picked up by space pirates

Fortunately, they don’t get killed

Because those pirates could really use an extra pair of hands or two, for their biggest mission yet

Which is retrieving a weapon apparently powerful enough to destroy the universe before someone else does

Nobody knows what it actually looks like though

5. Title: “Neb”, Text:

Nonbinary, aro and ace (they/them)

overweight

has idiopathic hypersomnia (basically means they sleep a lot)

also chronic migraines

pretty impulsive and says what they think

has a hard time trusting others

dreamt of going to space for as long as they can remember

On the right side of this slide is a picrew image, showing a person with brown skin, dark brown eyes and black, curly hair. They’re wearing a red bandana as well as a torn yeans jacket and have multiple scars on their skin. The background is the nonbinary flag.

6. Title: “Ahdia”, Text:

Transfem, bigender and pan (she/they)

mute

mechanic of the ship and the only one with a sense for fashion

happy go lucky and just overall fun to be around

pretty laid back, but would absolutely hunt you down if you hurt one of her friends

proud holder of the single brain cell this crew has

On the right side is an image as well, it shows a woman with fairer, but still brownish skin and brown eyes wearing a black hijab and a long-sleeved light blue shirt with clouds on it. The background is the trans flag.

7. Title: “Cap”, Text:

intersex, queer (they/them)

First time they show up, they’re holding a soda and pizza

likes organization in theory

wants to appear like a badass, but is too chaotic for that

needs to wear glasses, but doesn’t bother

Captain of the crew that picks Neb up

certified mess

Again, an image of the right shows a person, this time with dark brown skin and vitiligo, dark brown eyes and long, black dread-locks. They have some silver piercings in their ears and wear a dark purple hoodie. The background is the rainbow flag with the brown stripes on top.

The next three slides feature two columns each, each with an own title.

Title: “Com”, Text:

AI of the ship

shy and nervous mess

wants to visit all kinds of planets

loves taking care of plants

panromantic and ace

uses she/her, but doesn’t really care about gender

spends most of her time watching trashy romance movies

Title: “Coal”, Text:

The robot Neb befriended

Realized they were self-aware not even a day ago and already got anxiety

easily overwhelmed by everything

Has no idea what to do with themself

they/them

someone tells them knitting is a thing and they never do anything else ever again

Title: “Laser”, Text:

genderfluid, uses he/him or she/her

weapon specialist and tired of it

suffers from chronic neurogenic pain

speaks in a very monotone voice

writes poetry, but nobody is allowed to read it

canonically wears crocs

Title: “Lifo”, Text:

gender? no thanks (uses fel/fels pronouns)

tiny, but deadly

lost an arm and half a leg and replaced them with robotic parts (same for fels spine)

usually very loud, but can be completely silent if fel wants

cook of the ship

loves collecting trinkets

Title: “Nova”, Text:

He’s absolutely enormous, huge, colossal and every other synonym for really big you can think of

looks like he can kill you, is actually a cinnamon roll

licensed medic and mom friend of the crew

I lied when I said Ahida is the only one with a brain cell, Nova knows what he’s doing too

loves painting

Title: “Mer”, Text:

Don’t tell anyone I said this, but Mer is my favorite

if the name wasn’t clear enough, his species is aquatic

he’s beauty, he’s grace, he’ll punch you in the face

killed a man and will do so again

don’t cross him, he will get his revenge and you will regret your actions

seems like he has everything under control, but really doesn’t

11. Title: “some of my favorite lines”, Text (in no particular order):

“What’s up with your display?” Their voice sounded more steady now, which was good. 

“I do not understand.” Their voice on the other hand just sounded confused. 

“Oh, right. You probably can’t see it. You’re currently displaying an error message. Which just reads ‘error’. Not very helpful.” 

“Fuck. I didn’t deactivate it.”

“We could just go in and race to the top.” 

“What? No. Why would we do that? We can’t afford to get caught, we need to make a plan, Coal.” 

“You said you wanted an adventure. Plus, I do not think we could create a plan, seeing as we know next to nothing about its defence and security.” 

They said that because of them? They were just rambling earlier, not really thinking about it, just talking to fill the silence. 

“Okay. But if anything goes wrong, it’ll be your fault.”

“Uh, I don’t think so? Better not touch it, though.” As Lifo said that, Cap could see fel fighting against the desire to do just that. At least Com would be happy. 

Chapter 13 - they did surgery on a grape Neb

“Oh. I’m the ship. Nice to meet you?”

Whatever the hell was going on, they didn’t sign up for this.

“I am fine.” Perfectly fine. Mhm. 

Coal nodded, then just stood around? 

"You're outnumbered now! Coal agreed to watch Love On A Foreign Planet with me. So, uh, get moving, Fishsticks."

They settled on two things they were pretty sure were edible: a soda labeled “SpacePop: the best soda in the universe” with a “multiple sunsets on Madoras” flavor and some leftover pizza. (They were pretty sure Madoras didn’t exist, they never heard of that planet before. Maybe they shouldn’t drink that soda after all.)

“I’m Laser, my gender is a burning trash can and my pronouns depend entirely on the mercy of the universe.”

12. Title: “Homegrown memes”, this slide is filled with six different memes.

A windows error message, but the title and text is just screaming. The two options are “AAA” or “AAA”. It’s labeled “Coal”.

A photo of two people in wedding clothes. They’re labeled “Laser and Lifo”, in the background is a person falling from the sky, labeled “Com”.

Spiderman (labeled “Mer”) is holding a screen labeled “dealing with a breakup like a normal person”, in the next frame that screen is being thrown away as spiderman looks at a pc being held by someone else labeled as “commiting murder”.

A person is being kicked into a lake by someone else. They’re labeled “Coal trying to figure out what to do now that they’re self-aware”. The person kicking them is labeled “the plot”.

The “is this a pigeon” meme, but the guy is labeled as “Cap”, the butterfly as “wearing a hoodie and truly horrendous shorts” and the caption now says “is this formal dress attire?”.

The last meme is a chart, with five rows and two columns.

Row 1: Regularly says fuck: Coal, Lifo

Row 2: has sworn of saying fuck, but said it at some point: Cap, Neb

Row 3: has not said fuck before, but can if so desired: Laser, Ahdia, Mer

Row 4: has not said fuck before and refuses to say it: Com, Nova

Row 5: legally cannot say fuck: also Coal

13. This slide is an image of Earth as seen from space. Above it white text reads “the End”. /end ID]

#writeblr #wip into #comic sans wip intro #wip introduction #writing community #science fiction #amwriting #my writing #gay space pirates #neb #coal #cap #laser #lifo #com #nova #mer #ahdia #my wiriting #my wips

[snakeboistan]

‘Cause You Had A Bad Day (You’re Taking One Down)

AKA: A Nagisa-Centric Sick Fic

Pairing: Nagisa x 3-E (platonic)

Today was not Nagisa’s day. Not at all.

It all started when he woke up that morning feeling like he had been hit by a freight train that was coming at him at full speed. Groggily, he blinked open his eyes to find his forehead covered in a glistening sheen of sweat covering his forehead and a giant boulder that he could not see had him pinned down onto his bed. With strenuous effort, he had rolled over, planted his feet onto his bedroom floor and clutched onto his bedside table to help him stand up - and then almost fell over backwards because of how his head spun from the movement. He had dragged his feet towards his bathroom and his reflection in the mirror above the sink would’ve made him gasp if it weren’t for the woodpecker drilling in his cranium and the raw scratchiness of his throat. His normally porcelain white face was flushed pink and his eyes lacked their usual brightness. Oh god, of all days for him to get a fever, it had to be on the day they had an English test. Well, at least it was Friday so he’ll have the whole weekend to sleep it off. He was then overcome by a feeling of dread as he threw himself before his commode, retching and emptying out the contents of his stomach - which already felt unnaturally empty to begin with. Groaning in despair, he fumbled an arm above him to flush the toilet and flip down the lid so that he could rest his head on it’s cooler surface as he breathed deeply.

‘This is the worst,’ he lamented, noticing how his body was currently shivering despite the heat of the early morning sun, ‘completely defeated by a stupid fever. And I’m supposed to be a trained assassin. How the hell am I supposed to kill Koro-Sensei if I can’t even stand up properly or think straight.’ With a hefty sigh, he pushed himself upwards, blinking rapidly as he waved his arms about to steady his shaking legs. ‘I bet Karasuma-Sensei doesn’t let something as small as an illness stop him from doing what he does. That man has like no chinks at all. I can’t afford to skip, not with my grades. If I don’t want to let him and everyone else down, I’ve got to act as normally as possible. I’ll be a liability if my sickness drags me down and the last thing I want is to burden my classmates. An assassin should be able to overcome anything and shouldn’t get in the way so that’s what I’ll do. Hopefully, it’ll get better later.’

Once he had dressed himself in his usual school clothes and tied his hair into his usual pigtails, he slung his bag over his shoulder and headed off to school, choosing to skip breakfast and not pack himself lunch with the hope that the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach would die down if he didn’t eat anything. What followed was what Nagisa would describe as the worst walk to school he had ever undergone in his entire life: his throat was dry, tongue parched, body weak and every noise he heard only amplified the throbbing in his head. His insulating clothing felt suffocating, his black tie practically holding his neck in a choke hold, and he knew the heat he felt radiating off of him wasn’t due to the fact that it was nearing summer. 

“Hey, Nagisa,” Sugino called, somehow materialising out of nothing, “what’s up.”

Nagisa tried not to jump from shock. Normally he would’ve been able to hear his best friend from a mile away, would’ve been able to discern the tell-tale thuds of the taller boy’s favourite sneakers against the concrete and sense his presence before he could’ve said a word. It was common knowledge in their so-called ‘Assassination Classroom’ that sneaking up on Nagisa is about as difficult as getting Fuwa to go twenty-four hours without referencing a manga - his ability to observe his surroundings and everyone in them was one of the few things he was actually good at. To make up for his current lack of observational skills and his tinted complexion he hastily threw on a smile and greeted, “Oh, hey Sugino. Nothing much. How are you.”

Sugino narrowed his eyes at the shorter boy as Nagisa mentally congratulated himself for stringing those words out coherently. With a raised eyebrow, he replied slowly, “I’m fine, thanks. Are - are you okay, dude.”

“Of course I am,” he laughed, somewhat nervously, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“You look a bit… tired.”

“I am,” he sighed, “I stayed up a bit late to study for that test we have today. I guess I was kind of pushing it with my sleeping hours, huh.”

Sugino looked at him for a second before stating, “sure.”

Sensing that Sugino was going to probe into something that he really didn’t want to discuss right now (or ever), he continued, “hopefully I studied enough. I mean English is my best subject so I’m hoping for at least an eighty-five percent.”

The sceptical look was washed off of his best friend’s face as his features softened into the usual fond smile he wears around the bluenette, “I’m sure you’ll ace it, man. I know how hard you work. You’ve just got to watch out for those spelling errors, right.”

“Right,” Nagisa echoed with a half-authentic grin, whilst in his mind he castigated, ‘you can’t let your guard down like that, idiot. You saw the way Sugino looked at you. You’ve got to get better at hiding this before you inconvenience the entire class and mess up their day. God, mom was right - I really am a burden. Just spend the rest of the day like nothing’s wrong and hopefully this will go down.’

Unfortunately for him, his pain only got worse and every step up the E-Class mountain made him feel like his calf bones were being split open. It was a considerable effort for him to remain upright as he conversed with Sugino, and his sweat-slicken body made his shirt stick to his skin in the most uncomfortable way possible. His muscles were screaming at him, begging him to stop what he was doing and to just collapse into a heap on the forest floor but he continued to trudge along the path towards the classroom at the top. He could do this. He’s used to hiding his emotions. He’s spent years mastering the art of concealing what he truly felt, surely he could last seven hours - even if they were under the watchful eye of a superpowered octopus, a government agent, one of the world’s top assassins and twenty-six assassins in training.

Upon entering the classroom, he gave his usual greetings, whilst narrowly avoiding any direct contact with any of his classmates lest they feel his unnaturally high body temperature, before slumping onto his seat.

“Hiya, Nagisa,” Kayano chirped, as bubbly as always, “how are you doing?”

Nagisa looked up and hoped that the weak smile he gave her did not resemble a grimace at all, “I’m fine, thanks. How are-”

He was interrupted by a smooth voice, “you sure about that, Nagisa? ‘Cause you’re looking a little on the red side.”

He swiveled his head around and immediately regretted that particular action as his migraine worsened. Karma, who was standing next to Kayano on the adjacent side of his desk, had on his signature smirk but the look in his eyes was calculating. He huffed out a laugh, “I’m fine, Karma.”

“Really?” the redhead raised an eyebrow, “because you look like the walking dead.”

“I just didn’t get enough sleep last night, that’s all,” Nagisa argued, tone a tad bit on the defensive side, “I was so caught up in studying for today’s test that I only got like five hours.”

“That’s not good, Nagisa,” Kayano admonished with a gasp, “you need to take better care of yourself, you know. Studying is important but so is your health.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nagisa mumbled with his head down.

Great, it’s only been like two minutes and I’m already making them worry.

“Besides,” Nakamura chimed in with a grin, “you’re great at English. You were one mark away from me in the last test we took so you shouldn’t worry so badly.”

“That’s what I told him,” Sugino said, “but he’s Nagisa. He just has to worry about something.”

They all traded fond looks as Nagisa let out nervous chuckles. It was then that his stomach constricted sharply. He quickly excused himself with a squeak of ‘bathroom’ before fleeing the classroom, unaware of the narrowed golden eyes that followed him.

Once he was locked within the cubicle of the building’s lavatory, he was quick to once again empty out the contents of his stomach, thanking every deity out there that he arrived early so his discordant gagging wouldn’t have been heard by their teacher with his enhanced senses. It was then a lightbulb when off in his head as he mentally slammed a palm against his forehead. Zipping open his schoolbag, he fumbled inside before drawing out a bright red first aid kit. With a sigh of relief, he opened it and grabbed a bottle of ibuprofen but then his hope dissipated when he capsized it to find it empty. Oh, right, he gave the last few pills to Okano the other day when she was complaining about her menstrual cramps and he forgot to go to the pharmacy to buy more. ‘Dammit, Shiota. What if someone else needed those. Your classmates could be in pain and you would’ve been useless in helping them.’ Despairing at his fate, he flushed, got up, washed his hands and made his way back to his classroom, wrapping his arms around himself to hide his shivering.

Entering the room again, he was met with concerned looks from his peers. Giving them a comforting smile, he walked as confidently as he could with the little energy he had back to his desk, ignoring the eyes that he felt on him. Luckily for him, before anyone could speak, they all felt a gush of wind whoosh through the classroom and in a blink of an eye, their homeroom teacher stood before them.

“Good morning, students,” he called out cheerfully, “I hope you all are ready for your test today. I know that it’s the last day of the week but I’m sure that each of you will be able to power through. Now, I can see that everyone is present but why don’t I take the register anyways as you boys and girls try to kill me, alright? It will be a perfect warm-up exercise to get you all pumped for the day.”

And with that, their class’ school day began as it always does; with Koro-Sensei holding the register and calling out names whilst dodging bullets at Mach 20. Even in extreme agony and lethargy, Nagisa could only find amusement in that as he aimed and fired, whilst simultaneously doing all he could to not let the abnormally heavy gun slip from his grasp. When roll call was over, he could only tell that his fever was getting worse as he was hunching down to grab the stray anti-sensei bbs that lay littered on the floor. He knew that he should probably tell Koro-Sensei that he wasn’t feeling well, that he could use some medicine that he knew that the octopus could get in less than a nano-second but doing so would draw attention and alert the others and then everyone will know how weak he is, how he can’t handle his own immune system, how he is unfit to be an assassin. Or even worse, they’ll be concerned;  they’ll fret and worry over him and lose focus, make mistakes that could cost them, their billion dollar yen and the fate of the Earth. He could ruin everything. So it’s best to keep quiet. Even when his throbbing head feels like shutting down and his skin is on fire and there's enough sweat covering his body to water the tulips in the E-Class garden.

Fortunately, he was able to complete the test to the best of his ability. It was a comprehension assessment and it wasn’t too challenging for him, which was good because he was able to put more effort in keeping his head up than he planned to. Unfortunately, however, his theory of the fever getting better was horribly horribly wrong. If anything, it became worse, if that was even possible: His stomach twisted sporadically every time he took a breath, the cave of his mouth and the empty vessel of his oesophagus stung like they had been rubbed raw and so every painful swallow only increased their pleas for water (he had finished his bottle and he was not going to be asking to borrow anyone else’s), he could feel the build-up of perspiration along the outline of his shirt under his arms (he was so glad that he wore a dark waistcoat to school) and he could see the way his hands would shake no matter how hard he tried to suppress them. It was already the second period of his five-period school day and so all he had to do was last three more lessons and he can go home and hibernate for the rest of the week. He had no idea how he was going to survive Physical Education with the military training exercises that Karasuma had them doing for the past three days. He hoped and prayed that they wouldn't be sparing because that would require contact and fast moves and there’s no way he’d be able to hide anything then.

He didn’t have to wait that long, however, because he was found out by period three.

After spending their break acting as normal as possible without drawing attention to the way every single cell inside him ached and groaned as well as the fact that he was without his usual breaktime snack, he walked into the classroom, ready for their science lesson. Today they were going to do a practical (something about reactions or something, honestly he couldn’t concentrate at all at this moment because his mind was so hazy and he was currently too busy trying not to cry). He turned to Sugino, his regular partner in science, before Karma swiftly walked in between them.

“Yo, Nagisa,” he said, “wanna be partners.”

Nagisa blinked at him before looking around him to meet Sugino’s eyes. The baseball lover only shrugged and then walked away to pair up with Kanzaki. With the way he and the redhead shared eye contact as he left, Nagisa was sure that the two of them were planning something for once the twisting of his gut was not due to his current affliction.

“Uhh, sure,” Nagisa agreed, half because he has a problem with saying no and half because he was sure that even if he did refuse, Karma would still pair up with him anyway.

“Great,” the taller boy grinned.

As soon as the class had set up the apparatus and began their experiment his conjecture was confirmed as Karma had stated, “so what’s with you?”

Nagisa almost dropped the textbook he was holding, “huh.”

The other boy scoffed, “don’t play dumb, Nagisa. There’s something wrong.”

“There’s nothing wrong, Karma.”

“Oh really. Then explain why you didn’t eat anything during break today-”

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“-Or why you look like you’re about to keel over any second.”

“I told you. I stayed up too late.”

“- Or what that little trip to the bathroom was for.”

“I had to use the bathroom like any other normal person. I didn’t realise that I had to tell you the purpose of everywhere I go. And what’s with all of the questions?” Nagisa didn’t mean to sound so defensive or snappy, not to one of his best friends who he knows is only looking out for him. He knows that that’s how Karma is; whilst Nagisa approaches problems with caution and care, the redhead goes on with a complete offensive attack - assaulting with blunt words and hard facts to break you down. He doesn’t believe in the roundabout way, he’s always direct and wants things done at the time. His ability to get what he wants is one of the qualities in the other boy that Nagisa admired, but right now it was a pain in the neck. He felt cornered and trapped and something inside him, the viper he could feel curling around in his unconscious, was ready to lash out and bite and that’s the last thing he wanted.

“Hey, no need for that tone,” Karma held up his hands, “I was just asking. There’s no harm in that, right.”

Nagisa let out a sigh, “you’re right. I’m sorry for snapping. It’s just that I really just want to get on with this.”

“I still think you’re hiding something.”

“Karma, I’m trying to read the instructions. You’re kind of distracting me.” (it’s not like he was able to read the words anyway, they all seemed to blur into one big smudge of dancing black on the page)

“Why can’t you just say what’s wrong. What’s the big deal.”

“Karma.”

“Just go ahead and say it, Nagisa. What are you so afraid of.”

“I - I,” he sighed wearily, dropping his shoulders, “I should get another test tube. We’re missing one for the experiment.”

“Nagisa,” he could hear Karma calling him but he ignored it as he speed walked to the front desk to grab another piece of apparatus. It was on his way back that he could feel his stomach give a lurch. His heart was racing as the pain in his head had reached a new intensity. His stomach dropped and he felt apprehension crash over him.

‘Oh no,’ he thought as his hands began to shake.

His surroundings started to lose focus. The floor was swaying under his feet.

No, no. Not now. Not in front of everyone. 

His head felt light. So so very light.

‘Come on Nagisa, one more step,’ he urged before his eyes rolled. He could faintly hear the sound of glass breaking and horrified shouts of his name before the world went dark.

…..

The first thing Nagisa noticed when he came to was that this was not his bedroom. His eyes opened after steady blinks, and the first thing he found himself facing was a blur of different colours that he was sure didn’t belong in his house. Once his eyes adjusted themselves and focused properly, he recognised it as a notice board with lots of paper pinned onto the multicoloured backdrop. Then he realised that his forehead was covered with cold water, probably from the ice pack that he found lying on the floor next to him. It was when he heard the soft clicks of a computer’s keyboard that he registered that he was in the teachers’ lounge. With a gasp, he sat up on the row of chairs that had been pushed together to form a makeshift bed, the softness under his palms made him realise that a pile of blankets were thrown on to make him more comfortable. Karasuma, who was the one that was using the computer, turned around on his chair to face him.

“Nagisa, you’re up. How are you doing,” he asked as he stood up and walked towards him with a bottle of water, “we were all very worried.”

“Uhh,” was his coherent reply.

“Here, this will make you feel better,” the man said, holding out the bottle as well as a small white tablet. When Nagisa reached out to grab them, he found that his right hand was wrapped around in a bandage. He blinked at it in shock, “when you fainted, your hand landed on some glass. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll inform your classmates and the target that you’re up and I’ll be right back.”

Nagisa watched as Karasuma left, and continued to observe the door for a few seconds before looking down at the uncapped bottle. He threw his head back and downed it hurriedly, yearning to relieve the pain in his throat. It didn’t do much since he still felt like just begging god to just finish the job and get it over and done with but he appreciated it regardless.

“OH NAGISA, I WAS SO WORRIED!” Koro-Sensei wailed as he appeared before him with medicine boxes, books on fevers, and five bottles of water, “WHAT A TERRIBLE SENSEI I AM TO BE UNAWARE OF MY STUDENT’S SUFFERING. THE SHAME. AH, I HOPE YOU CAN FORGIVE ME FOR BEING SO CARELESS.”

“Koro-Sensei, please,” Nagisa said, “it’s not your fault. I was hiding it because I didn't want anyone to know.”

“Bu-but why,” his teacher asked, sniffling, “as your teacher, it’s important for me to be aware if you’re not feeling well. OR AM I NOT APPROACHABLE ENOUGH FOR YOU TO UNLOAD YOUR WORRIES?”

“No, no,” he replied quickly, “I just - I just don’t like people knowing when I’m not feeling well, that’s all.”

The octopus paused. Slowly he said, “why’s that Nagisa? Do you think that your classmates will treat you any differently if they knew?”

Nagisa looked down and mumbled, “it’s - it’s just that. Well, we’re supposed to be assassins, Sir. I don’t think trained killers let themselves fall back just because they’re not well.”

“Nagisa,” Koro-Sensei’s voice was stern but still held his kind and gentle tone, “you are a valuable member of this class. Every single one of your peers consider you an asset, an ally and a friend. We all look after each other here. We are all striving towards the same goal. Together. As students and as assassins, an important aspect of life is to be able to work as a team. To carry on through your strongest and lift each other up at your weakest. I see you looking out for others. Why won’t you let others look out for you?”

“I just didn’t want to be a burden, “ Nagisa whispered, “I thought I could deal with it.”

“Nagisa, you are not a burden. You have a burden. A burden that you have no need to carry on our own. I know this may seem difficult to you, but please: next time you find yourself in a situation where you can ask for help, don’t be afraid to.”

Nagisa looked up and despite the wide smile on his teacher’s face, he knew that the octopus was serious. He nodded.

“Wonderful,” Koro-Sensei beamed and clapped his hands, “now, I’m sure that the others would want to see you so I’m not going to keep them waiting any longer.”

“About time,” Karma said as he walked in.

“Were you there the whole time?” Nagisa asked as Koro-Sensei gasped theatrically.

“Karma, I thought I told you to wait in the classroom.”

“I know,” Karma smirked, pulling up a chair and sitting on it, “but the thing is that I didn’t want to.”

“WHY DO YOU NEVER LISTEN TO ME!?”

“Uhh, Sir?” Nakamura popped her head in, “are you going to leave or not because the rest of us are waiting.”

With a cry of despair, the teacher left the room. Nagisa turned to face Karma.

“I-,” 

“You okay,” Karma asked, cutting through the apology that Nagisa had at his throat, “and don’t you dare lie.”

“I’ve been better.”

“God, Nagisa. Why did you try to hide this? You scared the c**p out of everyone. It would've been funny to see Terasaka lose his s*** if it weren’t for the fact that you were lying on the floor, bleeding and not responding to anyone. Did you know that you had a temperature of 40°C?”

“I’m sorry, Karma. I didn’t want everyone to freak out, I swear, that’s kind of the reason why I didn’t tell you guys anything. I just -” he was cut off as his migraine increased and his stomach flipped. His wince and groan of agony made Karma’s eyebrows furrow.

“You good? Do you want to rest more?”

“I - yeah. I think that might be best.”

“Alright then,” Karma pulled out his phone and began scrolling through it, “rest all you want. I’ll make sure no one comes to bother you.”

…

The rest of the day continued with his classmates coming to check on him, even after school was over: Sugaya had made an A3 sized get well soon card and the entire class had signed it, Fuwa decided to help him go to sleep by reading a manga to him like a bedtime story, Sugino and Kayano berated him for hiding his illness before hugging him, Hara offered him some soup to help him feel better, Hazama offered to use a spell to ‘expel the sickness and other evil entities’ from his body (he was quick to decline that), most of the girls were fussing and doting over their ‘kind of little brother’ and were quick to do whatever he wanted to help him get better (especially Yada, who actually had experience with looking after her sick younger brother) whilst the boys tried to cheer him up with funny anecdotes. When it was time to return home, Karma and Sugino took turns in carrying him down the mountain and to his apartment (ignoring his protests and reminders that they would get sick), even going as far as to tuck him in and place a bottle of ibuprofen on the bedside table. They left with promises of returning the next day to make sure that he was taking care of himself and as they did, Nagisa couldn’t help but be glad that he had such loving classmates.

#assassination classroom #my writing

[moist-astronaut]

things my friends and I have said over the last year

“I’m verbally illiterate” “Isn’t that called dyslexia”

“I’m going to chemistry and I’m gonna light myself on fire” “No” “Damnit let me burn like the witch I am!”

“Don’t worry it’s not anti-Christ it’s just anti-government”

“I’ve been getting migraines everyday and I’m considering chopping my head off” “But that would kill you” “Two birds one stone!!”

“I swear to god I will hug you” “My house is 5 miles away and my doors are locked” “Your locks are FEABLE”

*writing an email* “Bitch comma”

“Ok but I could be a top” *laughing* “What I totally could be!” *laughing and crying for literally 6 minutes straight*

*on a group call, friends cat misha walks into the room* “Tell misha I would live and die for her, whichever she prefers” “She says thank you” *cat noises*

*joins discord vioce chat at 11:26 pm* “You guys are gae but I love you” “Thank you saeren very cool” “Goodnight” *leaves chat at 11:28pm*

“Jake jake jake jjjake -j-jaaake hey jake” “W H A T” “Can I eat your pens” “I literally have a restraining order against you”

“I’m educatn’t”

“Me calling you to dumb to be a slytherin is payback for you leaving multiple handprint bruises on my legs” “It’s not my fault your skin is weak”

“He’s rolling so that we can walk” *rolling in the grass and collecting leaves on his jacket* “I’m rolling for your sins”

“There are 7 of us so we can each be a deadly sin” “I wanna be Ross” “You mean wrath?” “No that dude from Friends”

“Ok but other than his strict attraction to women, his multiple wives, his hatred of gay people, and the fact that he is dead, what is standing between me and Joseph Smith the All American Hottie from being happy together”

“Consider: Mullet” “No”

“I do my homework while loudly eating a pop tart asmr”

“No no listen, he’s my brother, he’s a bastard of my dynasty…I might just ransom him off”

“These Norwegian bastards indroduced a fucking PLUAGE to my COUNTRY”

“Ooooo meth”

“Half of my life is me resisting the urge to sing the zaboomafoo themesong, the other half is me actually singing the zaboomafoo themesong. So either way my entire life revolves around zaboomafoo.”

“I just don’t think I would hire a gay man-wait no I’m not homophobic”

*chucks half a gallon of milk in a gas station* “-ah- got milk?”

“Gimme your sternum boy”

“Nooooooo he stole my sternum!!!” (Side note these were two separate occasions)

*being force fed milk duds* “No!! This is the worst way to die!!”

“Hey babe come over I have a hammock and a heated blanket”

“Be afraid, be prepared- IN THE WORDS OF SCAR”

“Stress eating stress gummies Stress eating stress gummies Stress eating stress gummies stress eating-”

“I thought to myself ‘Y’know if I die today this is how I want to be remembered- a leather skirt and leg warmers’”

“I think I’m telling you to go to sleep” “You’re gonna have make me” “I can’t tell if this is cry for help or flirting” “Yes”

“This is at best cannibalism and at worst being straight”

“Oh look Percy Jackson’s here now, ooh they replaced every character’s face with Mr. Bean. I hate it”

“You can’t be mean to me! I’m gay AND a woman! That’s a hate crime!” “Yeah well I’m brown and Muslim! Square the fuck up bitch!”

“Babe it’s not very metal to be afraid of your hair dresser” “It’s not very metal to have a hair dresser and yet here we are” “It’s fine you’re into glam metal”

“Hey augie, got any grrrrrrapes?” “I’m doing IXL :(“

“Can I come?” “No” “What if I bring watermelon?” “You can come, leave the watermelon, then leave” “:(“

“What in the jersey shore”

“Rad’nt”

“Ok but consider: Mullet-hawk” “I can and will divorce you”

“Dee-vorce 👏 Just to 👏 re-vorce 👏 👏 “

“Ah yes, that’s why I’m fat…for combat reasons…”

“You fool I consent!”

“My Boston fern is being a bitch but that’s because it’s winter and that’s BITCH season”

“You walk through the rest of the house and it’s like ‘ooo witchy and aesthetic’ then they’ll get to the guest room and it’ll just be a tacky twink Fever dream”

“Who needs a scalp”

“HeHe, sexing”

“Council has decided, your vibes are rancid (and not the band)”

“You’re never to young to hate women”

“Look at me I did the dishes I’m a 1950s housewife with a strangely new jersey accent and affinity for lesbianism”

“Well look who has the table now”

"contrary to popular belief, fuck you"

"There's nothing here that requires whisking, i'm just problematic"

"If you could go anywhere in the world with two people, who would you choose?" “New Orleans!”

"So he proceeded to bite me on the butt...like, really, really hard."

“I don’t cheat, I win. It’s not cheating if it’s consensual.”

“My mouth, my choice”

“Do you like my ombré of a tan"

“Who’s the cutest in the chat right now then?” “It’s Paige!” “No, it’s obviously Augie.” (paige's boyfriend)-said by a straight man

“Francis is just a one and done.”

“Would you ever have a threesome?” “...yes...” *To Francis* “Sure!”

“How do you feel about anal sex?”

“Of the people in this room, who would you most want to make out with?” “Augie” “The answer is yes, but only if it’s 6 feet apart.”

“Square, flat, and overcooked.”

“The virus would be over if everyone would breathe underwater for 5 minutes.”

“I have daddy issues, but not with my father.”

“You’re a ladies man but you have two boyfriends.”

“That means lesbian in sign language” “No, that means fuck boy in American”

“I’m like a parasite, you can’t get rid of me. I’m here forever.”

“You’re like my long term hit man”

“Is it Jake?” “No, why would the evil Russian man be Jake?” “Because he would never hire a gay man and you don’t look like a gay man”

“Jake is homophonic, Augie is racist, and Francis is a woman hater!”

"Grew a korean radish, 1 star"

"I've got more cause i'm a rich boy, and by that i mean my father sometimes buys avocados. And that's on what? Upper middle class"

"Tell your good for nothing boyfriend to stay away from my mom"

"It's not inciting violence it's just ~inspiring it~ "

"Listen bitch just because you have avacados and a roomba doesn't make you better then me"

"i would totally let narthex ruin my life. and that's on what? daddy issues and bisexuality"

"who is titty"

"how is he racist" "he hates the french and russians right?" "don't forget italians" "that's just self loathing"

"This is the last time i wear a thong- it's for educational purposes"

"babe come over i'm a burrito"

"he put bread with milk. luckily he passed away"

"you touched my wiener!" "you offered it!"

"foot'nt"

"i took a shower and realized the floor doesn't bounce"

"i love ass whoooaaaaaa i meant cassie"

"Rosalie you're the deciding vote. Be decisive." "Dude i'm bisexual and a gemini. what're you talking about?"

"Okay so to recap: jake is homophobic, augie is racist, francis is a woman hater, and now paige is a bunny abuser?"

"Just bring a watermelon keychain and it'll be fine" "Whooaaaa i'm gonna need a big key then"

"If you were blind what would you even see"

Post Traumatic Youth, plus D for danny's disorder"

"i think she's past the phase where she likes people just because they're russian"

"francine is a lesbian, but only during quarantine"

"don't be a home wrecker!" "i can't help it!"

"we are not doing coed tents" "i wanted to go purple-ing though"

"if it's not perfect i'm gonna through hands" "with who" "i don't know, the CEO of stupid"

"don't make me feel guilty for bullying you"

"it doesn't look very cash money cool but okay"

"slinky cat" (ferret)

"The pond behind my house didn't freeze all the way through this winter, so i couldn't go ice skating" "okay, so i have an idea. we can go to walmart and get-" "ANTI FREEZE!" "well, yes- wait, no. No, the more i think about that definitely no."

"The amish will win, the amish will prevail" "the amish will conquer us all!"

"He do be kinda mafia doh"

"i'm being sneaky sneak. stairs go creaky creak. and i need. DRUGZ"

"brain on shutdown, power saving mode"

"Somebody go tip her, she's dancing like a stripper" "thatd be nice- oh wait no!"

"fellas, is it gay to lick your homies eyeball?"

"it's not racist if you're only targeting one group of people" "that literally racism" "but what if they're french"

"i'm not racist yet but the option is available, and it's good to have options"

"they don't call me Mr. Steal Yo Boy for nothing!" -a straight man who has a girlfriend

"i think he has a bad habit of not dating girls"

"kinda hot tho 🥵 in a Santa Claus kinda way...hoe hoe hoe"

"i'll be your hot jacuzzi bubble dealer"

"when deceit and doubt fills you up, you cleanse your mind through creative activities, such as making organic soap"

"friendly reminder #4: you're never to old to eat a freezie-pop"

"sorry i'm just nervous" Chinese Teacher: (Waving her hand in front of her face) “Just pretend I’m cabbage.”

"me when my dads name is publicly broadcasted on the radio for his 14 felonies and assorted war crimes"

"<@!523669420435046401> I sentence you to a solid nine by the banhammer. For your crimes against Humanity, God, Satan, and Matt Frank. See you in hell."

"Danny, just because you're playing *Just Cause* doesn't mean you need to Just Cause our friendship!"

"Silly Matt! You fell for the ole’ Heimlich maneuver!”

"i got a bunch of new shirts over quarantine" "you would"

"Ok, there's a 32 year old doctor in new Jersey dying right now" "Yeah, but to be fair everyone in new jersey has a pre-existing condition"

“This is the longest period of time we’ve had without a Nintendo direct” “Maybe they’re gonna make a Nintendo indirect?”

"you’re looking extra white today.” "thanks i've been practicing"

"do you have any batteries" *looks inside shirt* "not yet"

"let's go colonize the middle school!" "yyayayyayayay!!!" " wait I gotta ask my mom first" What happened next is know called the *Juniors burden*

"oh so you're a DOWNSTAIRS milk kinda guy"

"you are literally the human embodiment of crumbs in a bed"

"The Berk-ey Creamery isn’t a place, it’s a people!”

 "He shoved a floating joy-con straight up his flux-capacitor.” "great! now it's paired"

"No, that isnt armor, the real armor are the friends you made along the way"

"This one goes out to all my lady friends out there *proceeds to kill himself in game*

"i'm a coward" "that's what a coward would say!"

"rest is for cowards and fools"

"every time you speak you take years off my life"

"Shark dick hoo ha ha"

"Me and the boys brushing our teeth at 3 AM"

"remember if you kill yourself the fascists win"

"The Beatles aren’t real. Have you ever seen a beatle? No? Exactly." "Babe” "Shut up I’m right."

*reading over these quotes* "god i hate that" "you said that!"

#ghost talks #long post

[taegis-gf]

A little help from my friend - Part 2

Hiiiii! Part 2, I know this is months apart but I only write when I can!

Part 1 Here!

Word Count - Around 3K

Rated M - warnings: thigh riding,  sex lol

It had only been a day after you and Taehyung had done what you did before he texted you.

It was like he wasn’t even bothered about what you had done and you hadn’t stopped thinking about it, it had consumed your every moment for the past 24 hours, you sighed loudly as you glanced at the text.

Movie night at Namjoons!!! hope ur coming!!

How was he back to being his same old self with you so fast?

After about 5 minutes of staring blankly at your wall, your phone buzzed again. As you looked down it was a text, from Jungkook this time.

hey, hope ur coming to namjoon’s, i want to see u :)

You let out a long groan of frustration, you were going to go to this stupid movie night.

*

As you arrived at Namjoon’s doorstep you took a deep breath, this didn’t have to be weird if you didn’t make it, right? Nothing had changed between you and Taehyung, at least that’s what you tried to convince yourself as you knocked on Namjoon’s door.

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets you warmly, pulling you in for a hug.

“Hey Namjoon, did I miss the start of the movie?” You asked, knowing your internal debate had caused you to be late.

“No no of course not, you know how we are, we haven’t even picked the damn movie yet.” He laughed as you followed him down to his basement which had been renovated into a small but decent living space where you all liked to hang out from time to time.

As you followed him down the stairs and into the space you quickly glanced around to see the two small couches already being taken up by 5 boys, Namjoon had his own chair that he didn’t let anyone sit on, so there you were standing like an idiot with nowhere to sit. You played it off, going to sit on the ground.

“Woah!” Jimin – you knew him but definitely not as well as Namjoon and Taehyung – started, “I saved you a seat right here Y/N.” he said tapping his lap. You scoffed and rolled your eyes “In your dreams Park.”

“Oh, you are.” He said, smirking at you. Why are men disgusting?

“Hey if there’s anyone’s lap you should be sitting on, it’s Jungkook’s, am I right?” Namjoon chimed in and you could have slapped him then and there.

You glanced at Jungkook who gave you a small smile and you couldn’t help as your eyes glanced to Taehyung for a small second who had his face buried in his phone, typical.

“You mind?” you said looking at Jungkook.

“You want to sit on m-my lap?” He asked stuttering a little, his eyes widening.

“No you idiot,” You scoffed. “I just meant can I sit on the floor where your sitting and lean my back against the couch.”

“So you want to get in between his legs?” Jimin asked, still smirking.

As you sat on the floor you just rolled your eyes, boys were tiring.

Taehyung, however, who was usually the nosiest in any room at any given time, was being eerily quiet, acting like his phone screen was the most interesting thing in the world. You let out a small sigh, you really hoped it wasn’t because of what you had asked of him.

As the boys finally agreed on a movie and turned off the lights you asked Namjoon if he had any snacks.

“There might be some in the kitchen, go up and check.” He said casually. 

Namjoon had said a long time ago that he wasn’t treating anyone that came to his house like guests otherwise he wouldn’t get a moments peace, so if you wanted something you were getting it yourself.

You got up and started walking up the stairs, making your way to the kitchen you didn’t even realise Taehyung had been behind you until you turned only to be a few centimetres away from his face.

“Jesus Taehyung you scared me half to death.” You said after nearly jumping out of your skin.

“Sorry,” he said giving you a small smile, “just decided I wanted something sweet to eat.” And you could have sworn he said it in such a way, you were the something sweet he was referring to.

“Oh.” Was all you said, before turning your back to him, opening a cupboard. You spotted some cookies on the top shelf and decided to reach for them, as suspected you were too short and after a small struggle, you felt Taehyung press behind you, his crotch pushing into your ass for a short second before he grabbed the cookies and moved away from you again. 

“Can you stop that.” You said, your cheeks heating.

“Stop what?” Taehyung asked, feigning innocence. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing Taehyung!” You said, feeling frustrated.

Taehyung walked forward, pinning you against the counter.

“This is so stupid, but… I cannot stop thinking about you. What have you done to me? Do you have a magic pussy?” He asked, breathing heavy.

You could’ve laughed if he hadn’t been standing so close to you, moving in slowly, putting his lips to your neck in short sweet kisses.

“Taehyung, give it a rest…we can’t do this…Jungkook…”

“I don’t mind sharing,” Taehyung said, still working on your neck.

“I know your freaky ass doesn’t, but I doubt Jungkook would be happy about this.”

You could barely concentrate on what you were saying as Taehyung kissed and licked at your neck, pressing his clothed crotch against yours.

“Hmm you are so pure, I can’t stop thinking about how I wrecked you, are you sore?” He asked.

You were a little, Taehyung had made you sure you felt what had happened. 

You gave him a small nod.

“That pretty pussy of yours took me so well, you did amazing for your first time.”

You couldn’t believe how bold Taehyung was being with his words but truth be told, you loved it.

You wanted so bad to egg him on, to have him take you out to his car and fuck you until you couldn’t remember your own name.

Like he was reading your mind, he spoke, “How do you feel about car sex?”

You let out a small moan as he looked at you his pupils blown out.

“Such a pretty sound.” He said.

“Fuck…Tae…I can’t. It was a one-time thing. I did this so I could finally get the courage to fuck Jungkook, remember?”

Taehyung frowned a little.

“I know.” He said sighing a little. “But it was so fucking hot. I didn’t know it was going to be like that.”

You groaned a little.

“Taehyung…we have to go back downstairs people will begin to wonder where we are.”

“Okay okay,” He said, finally moving away from you, but you couldn’t lie, you already missed the feeling of him against you.

You took a deep breath, trying to compose yourself.

As you both walked downstairs you tried to act casual, even pretending to look at your phone as you walked towards where you were sitting.

“What’d you get?” Namjoon asked and you waved the cookies in the air before throwing them to him, you didn’t feel hungry for food anymore.

“Sweet!” He said ripping open the packet like some primal animal.

“Y/N!” You heard Taehyung say. “Come sit on my lap, at least it’s not weird that way.” 

You were going to kill him. If you protested too hard people would wonder why - you and Taehyung had always been comfortable with each other.

You looked behind at Jungkook and he simply shrugged, not seeming too bothered.

You let out a heavy sigh as Namjoon switched the lights off again, trying to find your way over to Taehyung in the darkness, you reached out your hands. Taehyung responded by grabbing them and pulling you down to him. You fell into him awkwardly, grunting in annoyance.

“I don’t know what you’re hoping to gain from this.” You hissed at him, keeping your voice low. Luckily it was dark, and the movie was loud.

Taehyung let you adjust yourself and once you had perched yourself at the edge of his knee, you sighed heavily, this was exhausting.

Before you could even realise what was happening Taehyung began shaking his knee causing you to spread your legs to plant your feet on the floor so you wouldn’t fall. Your core landed directly onto Taehyung’s meaty thigh and you nearly groaned out loud, this boy was smart.

Taehyung leaned forward, “I’m so glad you wore that little skirt, do me a favour and move your panties to the side.”

You took a shallow breath, surely he can’t be serious?

“Do it for me, baby, just shift them over a little.”

You nervously looked around, no one was looking at you.

As if a woman possessed you quickly lifted a little and did what Taehyung had asked, moving the lace to the side so that your core laid bare on Taehyung’s jeans. You quickly retrieved your hand from such an inappropriate place, what the fuck was wrong with you?

Taehyung just watched you, feeling so turned on he nearly came in his boxers.

“Good girl, now use me.” Was all he said.

You hesitated, far too nervous to even do anything let alone grind yourself on his thigh.

Taehyung shifted his thigh and little and felt the full sensation of his thigh against your bare core.

And fuck did it feel good, you moved your hips a little, keeping a slow and steady pace, you could not risk getting caught.

Just a few days before you had never done anything sexual in your life, how did you end up here?

“Come on babe, ride me properly.” 

Jesus Christ, it took everything in your being not to moan.

You picked up the pace a little, you were practically dripping onto Tae’s thigh. 

You needed more, you needed him inside you, this wasn’t enough.

“What’s wrong? Why are you slowing down?” He whispered in your ear.

You were so turned on you didn’t even care how crude you were being when you whispered back.

“I want you- your ya know…” You practically whined.

Taehyung couldn’t get both of you up fast enough and then all eyes were on you both.

You tried your hardest to look normal, but you weren’t sure if it worked.

“Guy’s I’m just going to drive Y/N home then come back, she said she thinks she’s getting a migraine.”

A valid excuse, considering you did get them frequently. Taehyung was a good liar.

“I can drive you home Y/N.” Jungkook piped up and you immediately felt guilt. What the fuck had you been thinking sneaking away with Taehyung? You felt so stupid being blinded by lust, you were better than that.

“Yeah, that would be great Jungkook. Thanks.” You said.

“But-” Taehyung began to protest and you shoved an elbow into his ribs. 

Jungkook smiled at your agreement, standing up and leading you upstairs.

Your phone began to ding and you already knew who it was.

You quickly glanced at your phone, scanning just a few messages.

U know our fuck was gonna be  sooooo good!!!

Cnt believe u left w him THAT horny

Wait…ur not gonna fuck him… r u?????

You nearly laughed out loud, turning your attention away from your phone and focusing on the back of Jungkook’s head. As you followed him out to his car you grew a little frustrated you had basically blue-balled yourself, you had been so close to coming just a few mere minutes ago.

“You okay?” Jungkook asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You quipped.

Horny was an understatement. 

As you got into Jungkook’s car you found yourself unable to keep your eyes off him, watching the veins in his arms as he changed gears, watching the concentration on his face as he kept his eyes forward. He was stunning and you no longer had the fear that was holding you back the last time.

As he pulled up at your apartment you felt insatiable.

“Do you wanna come in?” You asked him casually.

“I thought you had a headache?” He said, his eyebrows furrowing, you noted how cute he looked doing that.

“Yeah, I kind of do, but I still wouldn’t mind some company.” You pouted. “We could watch a movie or something, maybe finish the one that was on in Namjoon’s.”

Jungkook nodded slowly unsure what you were really getting at.

“Yeah sounds good.” He said.

As you led him into your apartment you shut the door and watched him as he settled himself on the couch. He had on jeans this time around, tight around his thighs you noticed how much they accentuated the shape. Fuck was the only thought you could muster. You could still feel the wetness that had gathered at your entrance and you wanted nothing more than to finish what you started, even though it had been Taehyung who had started it.

“So what do you wanna watch?” He asked, he was shifting about a little, he looked almost uncomfortable and you wondered why.

“I don’t know, were you enjoying the movie at Namjoon’s? I’m sorry I dragged you away.” You said as you sat next to him, not too close but close enough so you were nearly touching his side. 

You were being tactile, but you couldn’t help yourself.

“It’s fine, I wasn’t paying any attention to it, for the most part, I was thinking about how jealous I was of Taehyung the whole time.” He said, still looking forward.

Your eyes widened in surprise, you knew he hadn’t seen what you had been doing, but if the mere thought of you with Taehyung had made him jealous…

God you were so turned on it was bordering sinful.

“You know…” You began. “If you wanted me to sit on your lap all you had to do was ask Jungkook.” You said, smiling-what you hoped looked-seductively at him.

It was Jungkook’s turn to look surprised.

You took your chance to straddle him again. You were ready this time and the excitement boiled in your stomach making your core throb. 

Jungkook kept his hands at his side for a moment, a little bit stunned at your actions.

But when you bent your head to kiss him he slowly raised them to your hips once again putting you in the same position you had been in a few nights ago. 

“I’m sorry about the other night.” You said breathily between kisses.

“I didn’t mean to leave things like that, truth be told I just got scared.” You admitted, breaking away a little to see his reaction. 

Jungkook just smiled at you sweetly.

“I’m relieved to hear that, if I’m being honest I thought you’d lost interest after kissing me, I thought you didn’t find me attractive or something…” He trailed off.

God was he serious? You had made someone as beautiful as him feel inferior?

“No god no, are you kidding me? Have you seen you?” You rambled

But Jungkook merely chuckled, more than eager to kiss you again, he closed the space between you once more.

Jungkook kissed you so intensely it made your damn head spin.

You didn’t know what was turning you on more, the feeling of his tongue in your mouth or the fact that his hands how now made their way down to your ass.

As you both found a comfortable rhythm you found yourself getting so worked up you started to grind down on Jungkook’s noticeably hardening cock.

A small moan left your lips as you finally got some relief and Jungkook copied your sound clearly loving the sensation as well.

“God you know how long I’ve been waiting for this?” Jungkook moaned in between kissed.

“Definitely not as long as I have.” You replied, struggling to get your breath back.

You mewled a little, grinding down onto him more, you could not get enough of him.

You slowly pulled away, to pull off your shirt and leave you in your bra, it wasn’t anything fancy but the look on Jungkook’s face could tell you it was more than enough.

“Do you know how sexy you are?” He asked his breathing was heavier now, he looked flushed and a light sheen of sweat was beginning to appear above his brows.

“Hmmmmmmm, I could say the same about you.” You said as you removed yourself from his lap, standing up you began shedding more clothes and started moving towards your bedroom, Jungkook couldn’t get up fast enough, following you whilst shedding his clothes, when you opened your bedroom door you felt him grab at your waist walking with you over to the bed you both lay down Jungkook on top, only in his underwear now and you boldly decided to reach down and palm at his length.

Jungkook let out a moan of relief finally getting some real friction.

You rolled him over and took your place straddling his hips, looking at him you reached down and pulled down his boxers finally freeing him.

“Are you sure you wanna do this?” He asked, his chest was heaving as he stared at the image of your hand holding his hard dick.

“Hmmm.” Was all you said as you glided your hand slowly back and forth over him.

 You slid your flimsy underwear to the side and began to slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping at the sensation as you began to have sex for the second time in your life. 

Jungkook let out a low groan as you finally took in his full length.

“Please,” Jungkook whined as he opened his mouth in pleasure.

You slowly began to move, not entirely sure what to do in this new position, rotating your hips for a few seconds to adjust to the pressure, it wasn’t long before Jungkook grabbed your hips and thrust into you.

“Fuck, keep doing that.” You said as he began to piston his hips.

You both got lost in each other as your pleasure began to build, it wasn’t long before Jungkook flipped you over and began fucking you into the bed. You bit down on your lip to keep yourself from being as loud as you wanted to be. 

“I wanna hear you, babe, don’t hold out on me.” He said, panting and smiling.

“Please fuck me harder…feel’s so fucking good.” 

Jungkook let out a groan at the sound of your words happily obliging to your request.

He thrusted harder and faster and you could feel your orgasm approaching.

Jungkook reached his hand down and began rubbing at your clit sloppily but it was enough for you to let out a small yelp, your pleasure intensifying.

“Want you to come for me, please, I’m so close,” Jungkook said.

“Me too, ah fuck- I’m so close too.” You replied through moans.

Jungkook was slowing down but the pressure on your clit grew rougher and you bucked your hips up chasing your orgasm that was about to crash down on you at any moment.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck!” You half yelled as you orgasm washed over you.

You were so lost in the immense pleasure you felt you couldn’t even focus on the feeling of Jungkook pulling out of you only to come all over your stomach you only smiled at the feeling.

As you slowly came back to reality Jungkook spoke first.

“I made such a mess baby I’m sorry.”

“Mmmm, don’t worry, it felt good.” You replied. You slowly reached a finger down and rubbed into on your stomach picking up a little bit before popping your finger into your mouth relishing in the taste.

“Oh fuck.” Was all Jungkook could manage, his breathing still heavy.

You laughed a little, mind fleeting back to Taehyung for a minute you silently thanked him before following Jungkook into the shower.

#bts fanfic #bts smut #taehyung x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #this fic really isnt the best but idk i may as well keep it up lmao #mine

[danganronpa-21]

Naegiri Week Day 1: Ill

Here we are, Naegiri Week Day 1: Ill. I hope everyone’s ready for a little Post-Hope’s Peak escape fic, in which Makoto is fighting off a case of scurvy, and so Kyoko decides to make the journey to a Future Foundation Safe Haven in hopes of finding food to save him. For this one, I’d definitely issue a warning of some heavier topics of violence and in-depth descriptions of gross stuff, as there’s dealing with illness and dead bodies and all that. 

It’s also way longer than I originally intended to make it. Oops. My other prompts will... probably be shorter, I think. This one was just an idea I got really enthused about! So, I hope you enjoy it!

Also, little tip to the rest of my fellow writers/digital artists participating in Naegiri Week: remember to rest your eyes! I gave myself a migraine yesterday from too many days of bright screens in a row. Be gentle with yourselves! You’ve all done wonderful things so far, and best of luck with the rest of your prompts!

____________

Four days ago, Makoto collapsed. 

Kyoko hadn’t seen it happen at first. Her lavender eyes were far too focused on the path that lay ahead of them. She hadn’t even thought to look back when she heard his body hitting the pavement. Every moment she knew she had to be alert for danger; she had no time to waste on listening for tiny sounds like that. She’d expected it to be nothing. She had to focus on leading the charge. Though throes of illness and hunger threatened to overtake her, she knew she had to press on. She encouraged the same in the others, too, but completely fell apart when Makoto’s quiet gasps brought her attention to him.

Hearing Byakuya shout, she spun around without thinking. Her eyes fell immediately upon the pitiful boy. He was the strongest boy she’d ever known, yet when she laid eyes on him, he was sobbing on the road like a pathetic child. His teeth grinding together in pain. His eyes squeezed shut. Desperately trying to keep himself together.

“What happened?!” Byakuya stepped closer to Makoto, eyes narrowed. He crouched down to his level. “Get up off the ground. Now’s not the time to get all weepy-eyed!” 

Makoto didn’t answer. He didn’t dare lift his face from the asphalt; his brows furrowed in emotion. Sadness, Kyoko wondered? Or maybe he was in pain. Some invisible pain, that the rest of them couldn’t see. She supposed he’d been complaining of sore legs as of late, but that was normal. Everyone had sore legs. Running and hiding during the apocalypse did that to you. They’d been walking in search of help for days; of course their legs felt like they were going to fall off. Even Aoi, who’s leg wound had adopted an infection, refused to complain. For the most part, Makoto had kept quiet, too. 

Yet there he lay, his face so close to the dirty street, crying like a little boy. Something more had to be wrong. He never was much of a crier; she doubted the soreness of his own legs would be enough to send him crashing to the ground.

“We don’t have time for this!” Byakuya huffed, prying at the smaller boy’s body. He grabbed hold of his arm and tugged. Within an instant Makoto screeched out pain, desperately trying to yank his arm out of Byakuya’s grasp.

He continued to sob. “Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!”

Byakuya failed to respond to his pleas. He kept tugging like a toddler; one who didn’t know that it hurt the puppy when he pulled its tail. Makoto continued to howl and sob. “Would you be quiet?! You’ll attract cannibals or something! Now isn’t the time for this!”

Kyoko barked out an order without thinking. “Togami, leave him alone.” She walked towards the two of them, each step careful until she crouched down next to Byakuya. “Something is clearly wrong beyond whatever you think it is.”

“He’s fine,” Byakuya protested, “He’s not in any sort of real pain.”

Wrong, Kyoko thought. One look into Makoto’s watery green eyes, and one could see that it wasn’t anything normal. Sure, he’d had the same complaints as the others — fatigue, nausea, diarrhea, and loss of appetite… but no one else had been experiencing pain quite like this. If something had become enough to make him cry, she knew they should take it seriously.

“Naegi-kun, what’s the matter?”

His face had painted itself with shame, likely at his tears. He spoke with shaky breaths, almost daring to avoid meeting her eyes.  “Everything… my shoulders, and my forearms… my knees… god, everything hurts so bad… It’s like all my joints are killing me.”

She placed a gentle hand on his head, hoping to be supportive. She had never been all that good at the whole comforting thing, but she still intended to try. 

“I tried to hold up, for awhile, I really did…” He sniffled, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “But I… I’m sorry, I… I tried so hard to… to… hold up, but I just… This really… really… fucking hurts...” 

The curse caught them by surprise. If Byakuya had needed any more proof that he was in legitimate pain, that word was it. His scowl, however still strong, seemed to soften a bit after he heard the word. His grip on Makoto’s arm lost its firmness as well.

“Shhhhhh…” She patted his head softly, “You’re okay. I know it hurts.” 

He sniffled again, seeming grateful for her comfort. In a way, it brought her solace, knowing that she gave him some peace of mind. Her presence seemed to stabilize his breaths a little. “I’ll… I’ll get up in a few minutes, I s-swear I’ll keep going I just… this really hurts…” 

Wrong again, she thought. Everyone seemed to have a knack for being wrong here. There was no way in hell Makoto would be  walking on his own again. He collapsed; it was a telltale sign that his joints had all given up for the day. He should have known that.

“Nonsense, Naegi-kun.” She shook her head, “Hagakure-kun will carry you.”

His brow creased in worry, and he shot a nervous glance towards Yasuhiro. Ah, she thought, he’s worried about what will be done with Aoi.

“B-But what about Asahina-san? Her leg’s so much worse than mine. She needs someone to lean on.” He stuck his arms out to try and push himself to his feet, only to go tumbling back down against the road. Kyoko prayed he hadn’t scraped his chin. “I-I can get up, if you’ll just give me a…” 

He once again went crashing to the ground, letting out a rather pathetic sob. 

“I c-c-can do it, I-I swear…”

Kyoko shook her head. “Asahina-san can lean on me instead. I just want you to get of here in one piece.”

____________

Patient Name: Naegi Makoto, Ex-member of Class 78-A of Hope’s Peak Academy

Reported Symptoms: Fatigue, nausea, diarrhea, loss of appetite, fever, and painful joints and muscles.

Diagnosis: Early stage scurvy. Keep an eye out for pinpoint bleeding around hair follicles and skin as time goes on. Immediate consumption of fruit and vegetables will be necessary. 

Kyoko could do little more than sigh as she slammed her notebook shut, her pen unceremoniously tossed to the side. Thinking about all of this stressed her out too much, yet there was little else that dwelled in her mind. Most days she would be thinking about the next opportunity to move, to get food or water, but now… now all of her thoughts were of Makoto, and what she could do to ease his pain. 

If she chose to be honest with herself, there wasn’t much she could do to soothe him. She wasn’t a nurse, nor a nurturing person. She knew little of caring for people with bubbling stomachs and crushing fevers, and she certainly did not know a thing about helping someone with aching joints. Her care methods were standard: feed them, wash them, give them something to drink, make sure they were comfortable. That was all she could do to make his suffering easier. Nothing short of searching for an antidote could ease his sorrows, and she knew there was almost no way she would be able to get by doing that. Not with the others around, at least. They’d throw a fit once they discovered her absence. Not to mention that they might try to track her down; an act that could only further the sense of disaster. If she wanted to do this, she’d have to do it on her own. She’d just… have to find some way to slip out during the night. Maybe leave a note warning them not to come after her, or they will face her wrath when she returns. Yeah, that was a good statement… she knew at least Aoi and Yasuhiro would buy into that one. 

Setting her notebook aside, she sighed. Inky blackness would soon consume the ruby red sky, and she’d get a chance to relax. Well, as much as one could amongst a pile of ailing teenagers. Nights were revered among their group for their solace from pain, but getting to sleep was always the real struggle. Between Yasuhiro’s pneumonia-induced hacking, Toko’s hourly bathroom trips, Aoi’s whimpering, Makoto’s sweat-soaked fever dreams, and the whale calls made by Byakuya’s empty stomach… Sleeping was a challenge. Even if she could manage to block out the sounds of her sick and hungry friends, their environment was hardly comfortable enough to sleep in anyways. Most nights they bounced from place to place, and most of those places were not built for comfort. Some nights they were lucky and got to share a motel room or two; most of the time though, they found themselves curled up on the floors of former retail stores and restaurants. This time around, they found themselves in an abandoned library… another place that, surprisingly, had few places to sleep. 

Of course, that didn’t stop some of her friends. When she looked up from her notebook, almost all of her friends had drifted off already. Toko had nuzzled her face into Byakuya’s shoulder and fallen asleep there, and he’d let her. She assumed he must have been too exhausted himself to push her off. Aoi curled herself up in a corner, trying desperately to maintain warmth against the cold breeze. As for Yasuhiro, well, he’d been dead asleep for hours. Once he could stop coughing, his favourite hobby became sleeping. He was always the most well-rested of the group, unlike Kyoko. And much unlike Makoto lately. 

No surprise there that Makoto was still wide awake.

“How are you feeling?” The words were reflex. She’d asked him the very same question so many times; really any time she’d realized that he was staring off into space again. 

He gave the same answer each and every time, wincing as he shifted. “I’m fine.”

She never believed it. Habitually, he held his tongue for the sake of the others. That was why he’d gone on for so long before collapsing. He sucked it up until he couldn’t anymore. 

“I know that’s not true.”

He let out a small grunt, pulling one of his legs closer to his chest. He exhaled sharply through his nose, slowly turning to look at her. “Of course it’s not true.”

She tried to look sympathetic, but she didn’t know what that looked like facially. Lowered brows in concern, maybe? Jeez, she would have to reprimand her grandfather for making her struggle to express herself. That is, assuming she might ever see him again. “What’s bothering you today?”

His eyes squeezed shut tightly. There was a jarring lack of hesitation in his words, as he turned to her and said, “Kirigiri-san. I’m going to die, aren’t I?”

The question struck fear into her heart like lightning. His words vibrated through her eardrums for only a few seconds, but already she felt ready to shout at him. He was supposed to be the optimist, damn it! How could he scare her with this talk of dying? No way. No, no, no. No way.

“No, you are not.” 

Her voice came out firmer than she intended, like a parent telling their child that their word was final. She imagined her face must have followed suit, an uncontrollable scowl carving its way into her lips. If her predictions were correct, this was also probably one of those times that her eyes had become scarily intense. 

“Really? You think there’s something we can do?”

The lack of hope in his tone almost made Kyoko want to slap some sense into him. But hitting your friends is a mean thing to do, and hitting the boy you kind of sort of think you might have a crush on is… well, it’s a lot worse. 

Nodding was a better choice in this scenario. “Yes, I do.”

To her surprise, Makoto let out a soft chuckle. As his eyes fluttered open, she could start to see the inklings of sadness that hid behind them. Like he had already begun to accept that he faced the beginning of the end. 

“It’s okay,” He said softly, “You don’t have to lie to me to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying.” Her hands curled into fists. Where had all of his positivity gone? Had this condition replaced it with nothing more than swallowing melancholy? Once upon a time it would have been unthinkable for Makoto to even speak like this, but suddenly now she was taunted by the idea that it could become the norm.  “I fully intend to make sure you do not die.”

“Kirigiri-” He started, but she didn’t let him finish. She cut him off not even a word’s worth in to the sentence; furious at the way he spoke. 

“It’s not up for discussion, Makoto! Whether you think you will or not, I intend to make it so that you survive.”

She gulped. Neither of them had expected her to snap like that. Usually she could be calm and reserved, even in the face of adversity. But something about the suggestion of Makoto’s death hit her differently. Like a knife being jabbed into a wound she didn’t know she had. Without her consent, her eyes had become glassy, and she realized that she felt the push of tears in her throat. Stupid, she thought. It had been so long since she’d last felt the need to cry. It was so easy to choke it down. 

The words hung a long pause in the air between the two of them; both of them afraid to break it for what felt like hours. Kyoko could do nothing but swallow repeatedly and blink rapidly, hoping desperately that he didn’t notice that she wanted to cry. Thankfully, he didn’t, opting instead to pick at the dirt under his fingernails. He lacked the proper works to say… just as she did. 

The act that ended up the vow of silence between them was a soft sigh from Makoto’s end of things. He bit into his lip, shutting his eyes tightly. The face he made when he was reluctantly about to go along with one of her wild schemes to save the day. 

“What do you propose we do?”

_______________________

If a spring breeze even existed anymore, it carried only a bizarre chill and the stench of death.

In the air it carried came the taste of distant smoke; the charred bodies of the dead and the burning brought through the air to these wandering children. Amongst the smell of death and the taste of airy smoke, lived nothing more than darkness and dim patches of light. The only sound being the distant screams of the tortured as they begged for mercy, and the gentle footsteps of the allied moving in synch. Pray for them, these wandering children. They are lost in a world determined to eliminate them. 

A horror novel could not have painted a superior picture to the one that unfolded before Kyoko. All around her threatened destruction and desolation, should she take one wrong step. Just as if she were a character in a book, Kyoko would have to think through every detail of her present situation carefully. There could be no room for error, especially not when she had brought along such fragile cargo.

The decision to bring Makoto with her was a bad one. Sure, she knew there was little she could have done to stop him from joining her, but that didn’t keep her from regretting it. The poor thing stumbled about with all of the grace of a baby deer still learning how to use its legs, and had the endurance of one, too. He could only move in quick spurts, only fast enough to make a little bit of headway before needing to rest. They were nowhere near being close enough to their destination as they should have been thanks to that. 

She didn’t have it in her heart to blame the poor boy, though. He did his best to not be a liability. He was skilled at ignoring his upset stomach and its repeated false alarms for vomiting, and was sweating out his fever like a pro. There were few people she had ever seen manage illness this well, and it impressed her, knowing that he could. She might have even felt proud of him, if she didn’t feel so overwhelmingly awful about having to drag him out into the dirty, disgusting world. 

“H-How much longer until… until we’re… t-there…?” He panted so quietly that it might as well have been a whisper. She could see beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, desperately trying to cool him off. They weren’t managing so well, she noted, for his face flushed rouge. Maybe he would be due for another break soon, she decided. He didn’t look so good. 

She tried not to look too pitying as she glanced back at him. She’d quickly learned that pity only made him feel worse. “Just a little while longer,” She purred in the sweetest voice she could muster, hoping to sound comforting, “We can take a break soon, if you like.”

He shook his head vigorously until pain overtook it. Another product of his fever. “I think I can manage for a little longer.” He promised; she knew it had to be empty. Too much sweat had stained the collar of his t-shirt for him to be okay to keep moving. He would need a break. And water. 

“I disagree.” She took his hand in her own. “Here, let’s duck behind this building. We can stop here for a bit.”

The boy opened his mouth to protest, but Kyoko’s movements were enough to shut him up. At that point, his focus drew towards his aching joints, and how to keep himself from crying out at the movement. Luckily, resting at the library for a few days had given them a new lease on life, and he could move just a tad easier than he could have before. He wasn’t collapsing, nor wailing from indescribable pain. At the very least, that made both of them feel a little bit better about the whole thing. 

Still, even his increased comfort didn’t mean that he didn’t have to focus on keeping his complaints at bay. Every bend of his knee or curve of his forearm warranted a low grunt of pain; one that he silenced in order to keep himself and Kyoko safe. Night was the most dangerous time for them to be travelling, and they both knew how every little sound drew the attention of the nightcrawlers. 

So he kept himself silenced, right up until they reached the building Kyoko proposed they hide behind. Then, with all of the grace of someone who had been nearly drowned, he let his desperate gasps spill out of him. Kyoko stood guard next to him; she seemed adamant that she be able to monitor his breathing. There hadn’t been a break that had gone by that she hadn’t listened to his shallow breaths, waiting for them to progressively become deeper. 

“Do you want some water?” 

Her voice came as a gentle coo, like the way a mother would speak to her ailing child. She didn’t bother to listen to his response; she reached into her bag to grab hold of the bottle anyway. They both knew he’d be taking a drink no matter what he said. 

She handed the bottle to him carefully, taking note of the water level. Enough for him to have a mouthful, but not for her. That was fine. If where they were going was as perfect as it was rumoured to be, she would have no problem getting more. Perhaps she could even snag some bottles to take back with her, to hydrate the others. God knows how long it had been since they had some real, fresh water. 

Makoto accepted the bottle gratefully. His hands shook as he unscrewed the lid, but Kyoko tried not to notice. It was probably just hunger tremors, she thought to herself. She knew she had them too. She couldn’t help but fantasize about putting an end to those soon, too, just as she did with the water. All she could think about, apart from getting there alive, was providing what she knew everyone needed. 

What Makoto needed most of all. Of course she thought of the others, but Makoto’s need was potentially the most pressing. Realistically, Toko would survive as long as she stayed hydrated, and the same went for Aoi so long as she washed the wound. Given that he was neither a small child or elderly, she fully expected Yasuhiro to make a full recovery. And once again, assuming that Byakuya would eat and drink, he’d be fine too. Makoto was really the only one of her friends who could die on the spot from something dramatic like a heart attack. So getting the right kind of food into him sat at the top of her priority list. 

“Do you want some, Kirigiri-san?”

Leave it to Makoto to snap her back into her thoughts by offering her water. There had barely been enough in there for him to have a mouthful, yet he’d still halved it to make sure she could drink. Stupidly selfless Makoto; she wanted to scold him for that. She knew that he knew that he needed the water more, and the idiot had still halved it. She shook her head frustratedly. 

“Are you sure?” He prodded, raising an eyebrow at her. He waved the water bottle at her temptingly, but she raised a hand in refusal. He knew better than to keep bothering after that, so he let it go and took one last swig for himself.

“Just drink it,” She sighed, “If I’m to believe the rumours about where we’re going, then I should be able to get more.”

The luckster blinked it surprise, and pulled the water bottle back close to his body. The expression of excitement on his face over having more water was cute enough to make her laugh, albeit rather lightly. The fact that he now seemed almost territorial over his water only made it harder to avoid giggling more loudly. 

“You think this place will have water and fresh produce?” His eyes were wide, glimmering with the hope she worried he had lost to his illness. She could have cried at the sight of faith finally returning to his gaze. It had only been four days since he fell apart, but already she was grateful to have it back. It had been too long. Just seeing that brought a smile to her face.

“It’s supposed to. Apparently, there is an anti-apocalypse group spreading resources to survivors. I believe they call themselves Future Foundation, or something cheesy like that.”

It became his turn to smile. “It’s nice to know that there’s still some people out there trying to do good.” 

She nodded in agreement, unable to fight herself on looking pleased. Really, she was with him on that. Knowing that someone else was out there, fighting for the future… it brought her great happiness. She could only hope that she would live long enough to put it to good use. 

Makoto screwed the lid back onto the water bottle and handed it back to her. She took it gratefully, proceeding to offer him her hand. He became a little more stable when he had the help. A sigh of relief expelled itself from her mouth when he accepted her hand, and pulled him up from the spot where he sunk originally. Now that he was so close to her face again, the drops of sweat and the flushing of his face became even more apparent. She chose not to weigh her options about what to do; she simply pried her glove off her hand and placed it on his forehead to feel his temperature. Warmer, she noted, but not as bad as it could get. If guessing was involved, he probably hadn’t hit one-hundred degrees yet. In the seventies or eighties, should she be tasked with giving an exact number. 

Still, this wasn’t something Makoto could possibly know. Concern for his own well-being gleamed in his tired eyes, and only showed further in the way his brows lowered over them. Perhaps it was over what she could report, or maybe the fact that she stood so close, but his lip took some abuse as well. It had become like the victims of the Tragedy: cannibalized. He was biting the skin off it again and again in agonizing anticipation. Like he thought Kyoko could just decree that he had two minutes left to live. 

She sighed. “Well, you certainly have not got any better,” She withdrew her hand from his forehead and slipped it back into its glove, “But you also haven’t gotten any worse. Which, I would say, is a rather good thing.”

Like a wave crashing to the shore, all of the concern in Makoto’s expression washed away. As a small smile snuck across his face, she heard him laugh. “Yeah,” He paused, turning his head to look at the path that lay ahead, “Should we be going again, then?”

“If you’re ready.”

From that point forward, they would take a few more breaks. Understandable, considering that Makoto hadn’t done such a good job holding out for long periods of time. So far they had managed to narrowly dodge the nightcrawlers, ducking through alleyways and silencing themselves every time they heard the familiar footsteps of the hungry. When they came near, neither of them dared to make a sound. They only waited; they barely found the strength to breathe. Only once the loud, stomping feet trailed off, did the two teenagers continue on, feeling a little more like they were going to throw up the dinner that wasn’t in their stomachs. But it was fine, for they were almost there. 

That’s what Kyoko told herself, anyway. It distracted her from the fact that they seemed to be stopping more and more often because of them. It seemed as if her finger would fly to her lips every two minutes. She’d be desperately silencing the whispers, footsteps, and breaths she dared to take — otherwise, she couldn’t guarantee their survival. Then, once the shouting of the cannibals had passed, they’d keep stumbling along. In the back of her mind, though, the thoughts of them would linger. How hungry did they have to be to eat other human beings? And how certain could she be of this Future Foundation safe haven if the nightcrawlers still rallied for flesh? 

She gulped at the thought. For a second, she considered asking Makoto, but dismissed the idea just as fast. The poor thing already fought off nausea as he walked; striking up a conversation about some good ol’ cannibalism wouldn’t help that case. She had a memory of him vomiting the first time he’d seen one of the bodies they’d eaten. How could human beings ever stoop so low? Could they really stoop so low?

Kyoko shuddered at the life she’d lead if she were more desperate. Though hunger ached in her belly and sent dizziness spiraling through her head, she couldn’t fathom killing and eating another person. And she knew Makoto and the others couldn’t either. And while this did put them on the moral high ground, it also put them into the position of victim. If they weren’t careful, they could be next. 

It was better not to think about it. The consumption of others, the chance that the promise of food and water was empty, and her stomach’s endless growling. It was better to focus on her partner. What he felt, what he thought, what he needed in the moment. It was strange; in spite of not being a nurturing person, she sort of took to caring for him. It took her mind off of the other things she decided to avoid thinking about. Interesting. She couldn’t keep herself from wondering if maybe, just maybe, he worried about her in the same way. 

“How much further now?” He whispered over her shoulder; his voice wrought with exhaustion. Though she told him to stop many times, he had taken to refusing the closer they got. She could hear his breathlessness as they stumbled through the night, but it was never enough to slow him. 

Their eyes didn’t meet as she guided him forward; she simply mumbled her response to him. “Soon,” She told him, “We’ll be there.” 

He let out a low hum, pulling himself back from her side ever so slightly. There was weight on his feet when he walked; she could hear it, but he said nothing. He simply kept pushing along, one foot in front of the other, beads of sweat still dripping down his forehead mercilessly. 

At least with them having not heard the footsteps of the nightcrawlers recently, Kyoko could take the opportunity to chat. “How’s your stomach?”

As if to answer her, a loud grumble sounded from presumably, within his stomach. She hid her smile behind her hand, and he blushed.

“A little rumbly, but… okay, I guess.” 

She nodded thoughtfully. “I am sorry to hear that… but we will fix it soon. I promise you that.”

He laughed softly. “I’m not worried,” He placed a hand on her shoulder, “I know I’ll be fine, so long as you’re with me.” 

One might have thought Kyoko would answer, but the words caught in her throat. Her mind raced so quickly that she could barely think of a thing to say. Stupid Makoto, she thought to herself, stupid Makoto and his cute face and his sweet sentences. This boy will make a joke out of me one day, I swear. Only the flustering of her face could show how that made her feel, her gaze darting away from him. He probably wouldn’t look at her deeply, yet she didn’t want him to see how much those words meant. It would only make the blow worse if the rumours turned out to be wrong. 

Her lips sealed themselves after that. The two of them still kept a close eye on each other, but there was almost nothing else that needed to be said. The closest they got was Makoto slipping his hand into hers; it felt as if it was his way of begging to be close. Taking one look at the war-torn, exhausted boy who trudged beside her, she couldn’t help but accept it. An old friend’s words echoed in her mind.

Have you ever held hands with a boy? 

It was hard to know whether she wanted to scowl or laugh. She had held his hands before; it wasn’t the first time. But at the very least, this time felt a little different. Perhaps it was because as they took each careful step towards the unknown, it felt like it was the two of them against the world. 

They made good progress after their last conversation, for there were no more interruptions. Creepy, Kyoko thought, that enemies could just seem to disappear as they drew closer. A little too suspicious, if you asked her. Not that she should really be asked; she was a detective after all. As far as she was concerned, anything could be suspicious. Still, she attempted to shrug it off… for Makoto’s sake. The last thing he needed while in his condition was the paranoid ramblings of a girl without evidence.

Besides, his presence became a good distraction from her paranoia. All she had to worry about was pushing him forward, towards the proclaimed Future Foundation safe haven building. The structure had finally spread itself out in front of them; the whole thing appearing suspiciously normal amongst the chaos. If the expectation for Kyoko was honesty, she would have confessed that she presumed that everything would look… rougher. Maybe some scorch marks along the bricks from fires long since put out, or perhaps some blood stains turned brown from age. Certainly, if these Future Foundation people were bright at all, they should consider that their weirdly clean-looking building stood out like a sore thumb. Just an old warehouse building, complete with dusted red brick and white moldings around the doors and windows. Not even the window glass shattered or shared any cracks with the outside world. The window was simply tinted with natural colour, and dust that had been kicked up from storms. In the old world, this could have been any old abandoned warehouse. Only now, it was the hiding spot of secret resources.

The appearance of it was so obvious that Makoto’s face lit up upon sight. Just seeing his expression was like watching a human Christmas tree. His exhausted eyes lit up with glee, and he clung tightly to her arm. Delight dripped through his voice as he spoke to her, and he gestured towards the building with a bouncy, shaking hand. “Is that it, Kyoko?” He asked, “Is that the building?”

She nodded, fighting off the grin that threatened to make its appearance. “Yes,” Closing one of her eyes, she pointed forward, “That’s the one.”

Those olive green eyes of his sparkled back at her, and he pressed his face into her arm. A sigh sounded as he nuzzled her, and for a minute, she might’ve imagined them some place else. But the old warehouse was no sunset-lit beach, nor star-clad night. It was just an old warehouse, full of little more than promise. Promise was promise, though. If it meant his survival, Kyoko might consider it the most beautiful thing of all. 

With that idea resting in her mind, she pressed him to move forward. One step after the other, the same rhythm as always. Every once in awhile she stopped to flick her head around corners; a necessary evil to ensure that no nightcrawlers could spring a trap on them. Makoto followed along behind her carefully; a willful puppy trailing after his caretaker. As they drew closer and closer to the clearing that housed the warehouse, Kyoko knew making a break for it was necessary. When she glanced at her walking partner, it took her all of three seconds to know he saw it too. 

She took a deep breath, and squeezed his hand tightly. Counting back from ten in her head, she braced herself. One, two, three. Even with her gloves on, she could feel the sweat on Makoto’s pams. Four, five, six. The warehouse beckoned them in an inaudible voice. Seven, eight, nine. Stacks of fresh produce and water. They had to be in there. 

Ten. 

Kyoko stole a breath and ran. 

The world went by her in a rush; the sounds of their thundering footsteps as they ran consuming everything else around her. Amongst the chaos of their feet, the only other thing she could hear was the shallow panting of Makoto, who was clearly overexerting himself to arrive safely. She’d be sure to praise him for his perseverance later; most likely after she rewarded him with some well-deserved water and food. For now, though, she zeroed in on the front door. It stood there waiting; a wooden beacon in the distance. It drew closer and closer as their feet hit the pavement, the smell of death and the taste of the smoky air drowned out by what lay behind it.

Almost there. The thought echoed in her mind as she grabbed hold of the door’s handle. Behind her, Makoto attempted to skid to a stop, clearly just as lost as she was in the motions of the run. In the distance she heard the voices of the hungry, and she prayed that the famine of her and her friends hadn’t put them in the nightcrawlers’ sights. She yanked the door back with fervour, shoving Makoto inside before promptly slamming the door behind her. 

She slumped against the door the moment she arrived, and her lungs screamed for air. The world seemed to sway under her feet as she stared down at them, trying desperately to steady herself. She had exerted the energy she lacked when she ran, and she knew her partner must have too. The mere idea of moving only made her head spiral further, but she knew she had to check on him. She ignored her brain’s desperation for the world to slow. Instead, she turned her head towards Makoto.

Just one look at him, and her heart dropped into her stomach. 

He was… horrified. His hands had flown to his mouth to cover it, for otherwise it’d be hanging agape. His sleepy eyes were now wide with shock, and his brows so harshly furrowed together that she’d have thought he witnessed the product of a nightmare come to life. She could even see tremors start to consume his body once again.

“Naegi-kun?” She squeaked, her voice small and insignificant against the echoing terror of the warehouse. “What’s wrong?”

The boy refused her gaze. He only extended a hand, and trembling, he pointed forward. 

His horror struck her just the same when her eyes fell upon it. 

Bodies littered the building. Bodies of Future Foundation members, bodies of the despairs, the nightcrawlers, and the desperate. Everywhere was the sight of bodies, bloody and beaten beyond recognition. Shelves knocked over; the contents spilling over into pools of blood, excrement, and urine. Those that didn’t fall from the shelves onto the fluid-soaked floor had been otherwise tampered with. Some had been ripped open and left to spoil, so that no one might have what lay inside them. Others were completely destroyed, or used for horrible things Kyoko couldn’t bring herself to process. Her head spun even faster, and she was half-sure she’d have toppled over, if it weren’t for Makoto who grabbed her arm. 

Thank god for his willingness to support her weight.

“I…” She sputtered, shutting her eyes. A harsh, sudden headache pounded at her temples, and when she tried to breathe,  the air scorched her throat. “I don’t understand.” 

Her feet swayed beneath her even further, threatening to bring her down. It was only Makoto who kept her steady; his voice hushed as he whispered in her ear. 

“Stay with me, Kirigiri-san.” He begged. Through the booming of her heart in her ears, the shaking of his voice made itself audible. “Everything is fine.”

She tried to swallow, but it felt like a rock lodged itself in her throat. Her senses threatened her with tears, but she willed herself not to cry. Crying doesn’t solve anything. Her grandfather’s words. Words she wished to resist. “No,” She murmured, “Everything is not fine.” 

“I know,” he whispered back, “It’s horrible, I know.”

She nodded. “This place was supposed to… help people. I… I cannot understand why anyone would… would…” 

The detective’s voice trailed off. Her whimpers were the only thing ringing through the silence of the old warehouse. This only seemed to torture her further; Makoto couldn’t help but remark on how she trembled in his arms. The act was so uncharacteristic of her. It sent a jolt of worry to his core. 

“Naegi-kun, what are we going to do?” She turned her head to look at him; the first time Makoto had actually seen the fear in her violet eyes. “The water… Aoi, and Byakuya, and the others… and you! You needed this place! You needed it so badly, and I was certain… I was certain that I…”

He pulled her face towards his chest, shushing as gently as he could. He found himself stroking her hair without thinking to do so; he supposed he thought the action would be soothing. Fortunately for him, she failed to oppose it. Rather, she actually buried her face deeper into his chest to hide. 

“It’s okay, Kirigiri-san.” 

“B-But, I…” 

The girl’s hands curled into fists, and he could feel the clench of her jaw. Was she about to cry, or was she about to punch him? The lack of answer made him uneasy. Kyoko looked like the kind of girl who could punch hard, should she want to punch you.

“... I was supposed to help you. We were supposed to get out of this together. I… I don’t understand why I cannot help you. I don’t understand what I’ve done poorly.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. There’s nothing you could have done, and no way you could have known. We just… need to go somewhere else now.” 

She pressed her face further into his chest, and suddenly, he could feel it. The tiny, wet spots of her tears on his shirt. She wouldn’t show it, but he could feel it. For her sake, he decided not to mention it. Chances are she was already embarrassed enough to be crying, given her stoicism. He decided perhaps it was best if he just let the waterworks slide this time around. 

“No.” She answered with a shaking breath. Though he could hear her sniffling, she dismissed any semblance of a sob. “No, I’m not leaving here until we find something to help you.” 

“Kirigiri-san-”

“No!” She growled with all of the stubbornness of a toddler. It might have even been punctuated with a stomp of her foot. “No, I am not leaving her until we fix things!” 

“Kyoko, we can’t…”

Suddenly, she shoved him away, staring at him with a frown. The tears were still glistening on her face, yet she scorned them. It dawned on him now that he probably led her to want to punch him, shortly after she started to cry. Two for two, he supposed. 

“It’s final, Makoto.” A firm, resolute voice took place of the shaky girl’s. She swiped at her eyes, and strengthened the painted-on scowl she wore. “I intend to help you. Whether you try to help yourself or not.” 

The words struck him dumb. He tried to reach his hand out to her, to say something that would be of value, but the detective was having none of it. Within seconds, she had whipped away from him, strutting down the rows of shelves like it was nothing. A chill shot down his spine at the sight of it. How could she be so firm in her resolve, he wondered. Even he, who had been widely praised by others for being so hopeful, was breaking down at each and every site where things fell apart. He had long since given up on himself, yet Kyoko dismissed all ideas of ever letting go. Somewhere within himself, Makoto knew he had to find that same resolve to keep going. To search for anything with her, so that they may both survive. 

Because she said she wanted them to leave this situation together.

“Kyoko, wait.” He called out to her, stumbling forward as she walked. “I’ll help you.”

Within an instant, the discontentment melted off the girl’s face, and she turned to glance back at him. She sniffled once more, folding her arms across his chest. There were no words shared between them, but Kyoko flicked her head forward. With her, that was as good a signal as any to follow. So he did, stepping over any ominous looking puddles he found along the way. If there was any hope to be found for him, it would be with her. 

“I’m thinking we should head towards the back of the building,” He suggested, taking hold of her hand again, “Some of the stuff back there might be spared. They could even have a produce fridge. You know, like where they mist the vegetables at the grocery store.”

Kyoko did little more than nod, walking towards the back of the store like she didn’t have a care in the world. With the way her chest was so proudly puffed up, you wouldn’t have expected her to have been crying a minute before. He figured it was safe to assume that was why she was doing it — she always held distaste for crying in front of others. It was sort of understandable, he reasoned. But he didn’t mind comforting her, if she needed to cry. Heaven knew that by then, she’d comforted him enough times. 

The two made their way to the back of the building in relative silence, save for the sound of their footsteps on the tiled floor of the warehouse. As they walked, both of them thought it best to avoid making contact with the corpses as they walked. Seeing the beaten faces, some of them frozen in screams of agony or despair, it made the hairs on the backs of their necks stand on end. Could they meet the same fate, if they weren’t careful? Could it just as easily have been them? Would whoever did this come back? 

They both shook those nightmarish fantasies from their heads; both too afraid to know the answers to those questions. Instead, they put their focus onto the produce shelf, and what they might find on it. 

“For you, there are a few things that we could use.” Kyoko told him, her voice hushed. Whether she spoke so quietly because she feared the return of the killers or showing how emotional she’d been, he didn’t know. “Acerola cherries, for example, make an excellent source. Kiwis, bell peppers, strawberries, broccoli, kale, and oranges are also acceptable sources.”

Makoto tried to keep those in mind as they travelled through the warehouse. The further back they went, the more he scanned for them. On occasion they would think they’d hit the jackpot, finding a lone strawberry or rogue kiwi on the floor. However, once they picked it up, they would discover the flaws. The most common was mold, but other regrettable occurrences did include a kiwi that had several bites taken out of it already; and a bell pepper coated in blood on one side. At that point, there was no other choice but to toss it aside and keep looking. Thinking optimistically, at least that provided them with just a smidge of hope. It did help significantly, seeing how the ideal fruits and vegetables did manage to trail to the back. Kyoko took that as a good sign. 

Well, as good as a sign it could be, in an abandoned warehouse full of death. Sure, the stench of it all failed to recede as they ventured further, and the air still burned her throat, and Makoto was still sweating like a pig because of his fever… But in some weird way, she still held out hope that everything would be okay. Some way, somehow, it would be okay. It had to be. 

And it seemed like it might, as they came up on the end of the island they had been walking through. 

“Oh my god,” Makoto exclaimed, pointing forward. “Kirigiri-san, look!”

Her focus darted around, trying to figure out what he was referring to. Had a nightcrawler made its way in? Was there a resource they could benefit from? She scoured the shelves and the floors, taking in as much information as she could, until finally… she saw it. A round ball of fiery orange, sitting plainly on the ground. Away from any corpses, with skin untorn and full of natural colour. 

A healthy, safe orange. 

She’s certain that the two of them must have lunged for it; they attacked the fruit like children eager to open a Christmas present. Within mere seconds, Kyoko had ripped the glove off her hand and created an incision in the skin with her nails, tearing it off the fruit with a strange sort of glee. 

Makoto sat across from her on his knees; eyeing the fruit like it were a piece of gold. She supposed she couldn’t blame him, for she basically held the remedy to all of his struggle. If she were in his shoes, she felt certain she would have acted the same way too. In her hands, she held the key to fixing everything — no more fever, no more upset stomach, no more fatigue, no more aching joints. She wouldn’t have to hear him cry so horribly ever again, ever see him such deep pain. She supposed she yearned just as hard for the relief of it as he. So when she finally managed to tear the skin off, she shoved the fruit into his hands. 

“Go on, Naegi-kun.” She urged, “Eat it.”

For a second, he did nothing but stare at it. Surely he wasn’t having second thoughts about wanting to live or something, was he? Kyoko might have smacked him right then and there if he was, no matter how mean she knew it was to do… but, fortunately, that didn’t appear to be the case. Instead, when he came to his senses a little more, he tore the fruit in half and placed the other piece in Kyoko’s hands. 

Her stomach growled in delight at the sight. “What are you doing?” 

No, no, no, no. This was not her fruit. She couldn’t eat this. Not when he needed the nutrients more. Nearly as soon as it was in her hands, she rushed to return it to him — but Makoto dismissed it. Before she could even get within a few inches of him, he pushed her hand back to her. 

“Please.” A slight smile crossed his face as he pushed her hand back. “I know you’re hungry, too.”

She bore down on her lip absent-mindedly. How did he expect her to accept this? “Naegi-kun, I can’t…”

“Yes, you can.” His grin brightened, and his hand secured itself around her own. “You’ve tried so hard to keep up my hope. Let’s try to keep up yours, too.”

Don’t accept it, she shouted at herself. He needs this more than you do. You know that. 

She did know that. She did know that, yet when she looked at him, there was little she could do to resist his begging. That soft smile, those affectionate green eyes, damn you, Makoto Naegi. She fixed her eyes on him carefully, and raised the orange to her mouth.

“That’s it,” He said, raising his piece to his own, “On the count of three, alright?”

She nodded, eyeing the fruit in front of her. God, she hadn’t realized how much she missed oranges until this very moment. The scent of the citrusy fruit almost made her feel like she might start to drool.

“One… two… three.”

Bite.

A rush of flavour flooded her mouth, staining her tongue with its sweetness. She groaned in delight, having long since forgotten how wonderful oranges were. Across from her, she could gather Makoto was having the same experience… although the juices from the fruit were dripping down his lips and chin. She chuckled slightly, liking the mildly embarrassed expression on his face.

“This is… really good.” He remarked, wiping his chin with the back of his wrist. 

She giggled at the act. “It truly is…”

“Mmm… Kirigiri-san?”

Taking another quick bite of her orange, she glanced back over at him expectantly.

“Yes?”

He licked his orange-juice coated lips, and flashed her another smile. A real one, with teeth and that signature cheerfulness she had grown to miss amongst his illness. Her chest warmed at the sight, and increased its warmth when he finally spoke. 

“Thank you.”

#naegiri2019 #naegiri #kyoko kirigiri #makoto naegi #kyouko kirigiri #kirigiri kyoko #naegi makoto #thh #danganronpa #DR1 #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #Future Foundation

[mindfulwrathwrites]

Powered (Excerpt): Meet “Cute”

The first appearances of two of our main cast!

Words: 1,931 Warnings: Alcohol use, classism

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...

Lupe was having the luckiest bad day of their life, and if it didn't let up soon, they were going to collapse from the stress.

First, it had been the flooding—an event that easily could have killed a dozen people or more, but from which Lupe had escaped without getting so much as a toe in the water. Then it was getting trapped in the swanky office building, where they were sure to get caught and arrested, only to see on the news that the only thing stopping them from leaving was some weirdo up on the roof. And then, it was ARCOM's killer robot and its—handler?—which had almost shot Lupe dead on the spot but decided not to at the last second, instead chasing off after the weirdo in the mask and opening, however unintentionally, Lupe's escape.

So Lupe had hidden in the stairwell in case the Division showed up before the water cleared (they hadn't), and had taken the back-alleys and underpasses out of downtown in case the regular cops were looking for them (they weren't), and was now holed up in a booth at the back of the one Powered bar in Albuquerque, accompanied only by the tinnitus ringing in their ears, nursing a gin and tonic and supposing they ought to feel relieved.

They didn't.

An acrylic nail tapping on the table brought them back to the present. Their favorite bartender, Jess, was standing table-side, rainbow dreadlocks bright against dark skin.

"Starting to pick up in here, honey," she said. "You might wanna start thinking about heading out, before you lose all your elbow room."

"You can't just let me out the back again?" Lupe asked.

"I'd love to, except Cindy's working tonight, and she's been looking for an excuse to fire me."

"Is Cindy the racist one?"

"Take a wild guess."

Lupe winced. "Okay. Thanks for letting me know. Is it okay if I finish my drink first, or. . . ?"

"You got time. I'll get you a lemonade to go so we ain't just kicking you out. On the house."

"Are you sure? You don't have to."

She pressed a hand to her chest and sighed hugely. "If I don't, you might leave us a bad review."

"I couldn't even if I wanted to," they said.

"It's a joke, we're already drowning in bad reviews from normies. Zero stars, service was terrible and it was full of mutants, I felt sooooo threatened when everybody got mad at me for calling them slurs."

Lupe snorted. "Has that happened?"

"Weekly, honey, weekly."

"I'm sorry."

She grinned. "It's all good. They never stick around too long." She tapped her nail on the table again, and a breath of blue flame rolled up the back of her hand. "Lemme get you that lemonade before I forget."

Lupe gave her a lazy, two-finger salute as she moved off. They sucked down a few good gulps of their gin and tonic. Maybe Jess had gone a little heavy on the gin, or maybe it was just that Lupe hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours, but it was hitting them harder than usual. They checked their pockets for change and found about four dollars—and since they were getting kicked out before they could get another drink, maybe they'd go get a burger, instead. As they stuffed the cash back in their pocket, somebody pulled up to their booth.

"Mind if I join you?"

He was white, mousy, and freckly, with short-cropped brown hair and a midwestern accent. He was wearing thick-rimmed glasses, a green flannel over a band T-shirt, dark jeans washed a few too many times. He had a drink in each hand.

"I—I was actually just leaving, sorry, it's all yours," said Lupe, scooching outward.

The guy's face fell. "You were?"

"Yeah, it just—I just have to—" They cast around for Jess, but she was nowhere to be seen. They didn't need the free lemonade, anyway; they should get out of here while they could, before this poor guy put a foot in the wrong place and got electrocuted.

"I guess I have to drink both of these, now," he sighed, looking down at the two drinks. One was a beer. The other was clear and bubbly and had a slice of orange in it.

"Well," said Lupe. They fidgeted. "You weren't—you didn't—did you. . . ?"

He offered the cocktail to them. "It was supposed to be for you," he said hopefully.

Lupe fidgeted some more. The room wasn't too crowded yet, and one drink couldn't hurt, especially if it was free. Jess was up at the bar now, busy with a large group of young women that had just come in. Lupe gestured to the other side of the booth.

"I'll save you from the spare drink," they said. "Just be careful where you put your feet, I run at a pretty lethal voltage."

The guy stopped halfway to sitting down. He stared. Lupe shrugged.

"No wonder you're back here all by yourself," the guy said faintly.

"Yeah," said Lupe. "It's fine if you—"

The guy slid the rest of the way into the booth and pulled his feet up after him, sitting cross-legged. With one finger, he pushed the cocktail across to Lupe.

"It's a Tom Collins," he said. "You struck me as the ginny type."

"That—that's a nine-dollar drink," Lupe objected, torn between being flattered and gravely suspicious.

"Yeah," said the guy. He gestured to his own. "And this is a three-dollar beer, split the difference."

Lupe struggled for words. They looked from the cocktail to the guy and back again. They swirled the tiny straws around in case it stirred up any suspicious white powder, which it didn't.

"What did you say your name was?" Lupe asked the guy.

"Zach," he said. "He/him pronouns, if anybody's counting."

"Oh—oh," said Lupe. Something fluttered in their chest, a sigh of relief. "I'm Lupe. Um. They/them."

"Pleased to meet you," said Zach. "I'd shake your hand, but—"

"Yeah, don't—don't do that. So, you—so—you're . . . Powered? I mean, Watt's, it's sort of—it's not like they card you, and if that's too personal, obviously, you don't have to answer, I just. . . ."

"Barely," Zach said, amused but taking pity. "Just enough to make my normie friends nervous."

"Do you mind if I ask what it is?"

"Eh, sure. You showed me yours, I'll show you mine."

In the blink of an eye, he was gone—into thin air, without so much as a puff of smoke or a flash of light. Before Lupe had gotten done being surprised, though, he was back, scrunching his nose like he needed to sneeze.

"That's not barely," said Lupe, astounded.

"No, it doesn't work like you think it does. For example—cameras. It doesn't work on cameras, for some reason. I'm like a reverse-vampire or something. And it gives me migraines if I hold it for more than a minute or so."

"Ohhh, yeah, that—that's not great. I guess it's fun at parties?"

"It's the best at parties," Zach said viciously, grinning. "I hate parties. And now nobody can make me stay, because as soon as nobody's looking, I can literally disappear."

Lupe chuckled and had a sip of their cocktail. It was mild and delicious, like a carbonated gin-lemonade, and there was no hint of a salty Rohypnol aftertaste. Maybe, they thought, this guy really was just being nice.

"Silver linings?" they said. "I don't know, I haven't been to a party in . . . Christ, probably twenty years."

Zach sucked in a breath through his teeth, wincing. "Yeah, what with the voltage and everything, I guess that's probably a little fraught. Don't worry, you're not missing much. Parties suck."

"But bars don't?"

"So long as there's no parties going on in them."

Lupe stirred their drink, being careful not to touch the table. At the bar, Jess was entertaining the group of young women, lighting their drinks on fire with her fingers (to their great delight). Zach watched them, amused, his chin on his hand, his beer untouched.

"Um," said Lupe. "I um. Look, before, um . . . I appreciate the drink, and the—the company, but I just want to make it clear that I'm not really, um, interested in—in—not that you're not—but I'm, sort of, very asexual? So—"

Zach turned back to them, startled. "What? No, no, that's not what this is about. I'm straight."

"You're what?" said Lupe. Their face went hot. "Oh, no, of course, right, I just—"

"Not that you're not a good-looking guy—sorry, person. You're just not my type."

"No, yeah, same, but I just kind of . . . forgot about straight people. Hahah."

"You don't get out much, huh," said Zach, with that same amused-pity look from before.

"I'm homeless, I'm always out," said Lupe, and then realized that it was a top-tier idiot thing to say.

"Holy shit, seriously?" Zach said. "You don't look—okay, you kind of do look homeless, but I figured that was just a fashion choice."

"And you don't look like an ignorant dick, but here we are," Lupe retorted. Maybe they'd had a little too much to drink. Whatever. A remark like that deserved a little snappishness.

Zach winced. "Okay, I deserved that," he said. "But—man, that's rough. Do you need a place to stay, or something? I could put you up at a hotel for a couple of days, or—"

"Don't, just—don't," Lupe sighed, holding up a hand. "It doesn't work. Unless you can find a hotel that doesn't use keycards, it won't work. Just—forget I said anything."

"Are you sure?" Zach pressed. "You could stay at my place, if you needed to. Not forever, I'm kind of already maxed out on roommates, but for a while. Until you get—"

"Get my feet back underneath me?" Lupe filled in. "Sure, I just have to find a job where they don't require you to touch any computers, machines, or other people. Oh, and it has to be no-experience-required, too, and no high school diploma, and not need a physical address or an ID or a phone number, and and and. It won't happen. Trust me."

Zach stared at them, full-pity, looking like a lost puppy in the rain. Lupe shook their head and muttered in Spanish under their breath and looked someplace else. The pity was always the hardest to take.

"Well—do you want dinner, then?" Zach asked. "I could buy you dinner, at least."

"I don't want your goddamn charity," Lupe snapped. A bolt cracked off their wrist and earthed in the center of the table. Someone shrieked. Zach froze, whey-faced. The smell of burnt lacquer rose in a plume. Lupe ground their teeth and took deep breaths and waited for the whine in their ears to soften. Before it did, Jess sidled over.

"Hey, honey," she said. "Hate to butt in, but I think it's about time for you to be heading on out."

"Yeah," said Lupe. They abandoned the rest of their cocktail and got up, dizzy. "Sorry about the table."

"Don't worry about it. You ain't hardly the worst thing that's happened to a table in here."

They faked a smile, nodded to her, and headed for the door. Despite the crowd, a wide path opened for them. Every eye in the place watched as they went.

#29 Feb 2020 #w:powered #sci-fi #nonbinary character #asexual character #superpowers #alcohol / #classism /

[inkribbon796]

The Other Side

Summary: Anti’s bored, and he does terrible things when he’s bored. Virgil just happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. So the heroes have to save the day, without roughing Anxiety up too much in the process.

Encore: Right Here, Right Now

   Virgil lived with Deceit and Remus, and he hated every part of it. The place they stayed at was in one of the worst parts of town, and they’d been living there for over a year now. It was never warm enough. Deceit’s first order of business when acquiring the place was to get his hands on a number of heaters and keep the room they slept in warm. But unless you were in that room, it was freezing.

   So Virgil walked out of the apartment in normal clothing and hung around King’s Park, just crowd watching. He had his headphones in and his hood drawn up.

   His favorite thing about the park was that if you wanted to be left alone, people left you alone. Except for the hiccup with Yan and the police one night, even Dark’s enforcers and network stayed out of the park. It helped Virgil feel like he had some type of privacy.

   He stayed at the park for a while, and when he finally got hungry, went for a walk to figure out what he wanted, making sure to go in costume so that people would keep leaving him alone.

   Something that turned into a bad idea when he heard the sound of a power box on top of the radio arching. Virgil looked back to see Anti scratching his claws against the electrical box, Natemare was standing next to him with a bag in his hands. Both of the chaotic villains were smiling at him.

   Anti was the one who spoke, “Hey, kid, where’s yer old man?”

   “I’m not a kid,” Virgil spat back, trying to get away from the edge of the roof. He was preparing to summon his spider legs to escape. Maybe he could get back to Dark’s area.

   “Can’t fly can ye?” Anti took the bag from Natemare, and the other glitch demon turned into electricity and slipped back into the wires of the electrical box, a smile still on his face as he vanished.

   “I can cling to walls, I don’t need to fly,” Anxiety trying to sound tough even though his heart was beating almost out of control.

   “Good,” Anti smiled. “Yah know, Dark’s usually really tight-lipped about the stuff his boys collect fer ‘im, but he must have gotten wasted because he was carryin’ this . . .”

   Anti pulled out what looked like an MP3 player but it looked like something that was probably cursed. “. . .  Around like he was proud of it. An’ I figured ye should have it.”

   “I’m not touching that,” Virgil snapped. “It looks like it’ll possess me. Why would you even give me that thing?”

   Anti shrugged and the thing went up into a string of code, “Cause it’ll make him furious, an’ he won’t let me get close enough to his desk ta piss in his coffee.”

   “Then why give it to me, he’ll just think I took it,” Virgil argued.

   Walking over, Anti tried to set his hand on Anxiety’s shoulder. Virgil ducked away immediately.

   “Why so nervous, guess ye live up to yer name, huh Anx?” Anti laughed. “Well, I’ll see if I can pawn it off to some third rate drug dealer, that’ll flip the town on its head.”

   “Yeah, just keep that thing away from me,” Anxiety sprouted out his spider legs and just left, trying to get as far from Anti as possible, and was surprised when no one was following him. So, eager to calm down he grabbed a quiet spot of roof with enough of a protection for him to sit on and lean against, he put in his earphones again.

   He was listening to some MCR at first and it was helping, but slowly in the background static began to build and Virgil was getting sleepy.

   It wasn’t until he collapsed onto the ground in a head that Virgil realized something was wrong with him. The world seemed fuzzy and he could barely move his eyes.

   His panic got worse when Anti appeared in front of him, smiling. Natemare was next to him, holding the MP3 player, hooked up to his own ears.

   “Yah know, I think yah got a good head on your shoulders, taking somethin’ from me would’a been a dumb idea,” Anti smiled as he took the player from Natemare but was careful to still keep the headphones in Natemare’s ears. “Shouldn’ta let us walk off with it, though.”

   Virgil could feel he was crying as the static in his head began to build, it was getting harder to think, harder to breathe. Anxiety couldn’t even blink anymore, his eyes were just staring at Anti.

   “So let’s have some fun, it’s been ages since I’ve had a puppet,” Anti grinned and pressed something on the MP3 and Virgil’s body stood up of its own volition. “You’ll love it, N. It’s the best.”

   Virgil was mentally shaking because his body refused to as Anti tossed Natemare the MP3, the other glitch demon was smiling.

   For the heroes it was a normal day of patrols, and Logan coming in and out of their routine. All Logan would say was that he was conducting research as a favor to the Host and if he needed assistance, Logan or the Host would ask.

   Logan was with Eric and Randall, keeping his watch on them more than anything else.

   “At this rate, you’ll make it full time,” Logan smiled, talking to Eric.

   “R-Really?” Eric smiled hopefully.

   “Your control has greatly improved,” Logan praised.

   “Hey, what’d I tell yah,” Randall grinned.

   Eric smiled warmly, and then looked back down the street before he paled, pointing, “Uh, guys?”

   Logan and Randall looked down the street, but it looked completely normal.

   “What do you see?” Logan braced to grab his TASER.

   “My dad,” Eric looked like he was about to vomit or curl up into a ball in sheer terror.

   “Eric, he’s dead,” Randall reminded.

   Eric took a fearful step back and Logan finally saw something, but it wasn’t Derek. Suddenly Logan was alone on a stage with bright lights shining down at him. Everything felt wrong, like he’d been forced to down five cups of coffee, each with about three shots of espresso, one right after the other. He could see a couple wrinkles and old stains on his favorite button-down shirt and tie.

   “Thomas Sanders,” a disembodied voice in the darkness called out before Logan was hit with a string of trivia. Some he could answer, others he couldn’t. Every wrong answer or even slightly incorrect one was met by a harsh sounding buzzer. It barely took three questions before Logan realized he’d been caught in Anxiety’s fear powers, how he’d been caught so flatfooted was beyond him.

   The whole ordeal was a little too frustrating and taxing on Logan, and the situation seemed to be already spiraling out of control.

   “You’re not real,” Logan tried to fight the illusion, but it felt like he was hitting a brick wall with nothing but his bare fists. As if he knew it was fake, could see a way out, but he couldn’t free himself by just denying it.

   Logan kept repeating it, trying to find some crack in Anxiety’s fear illusion. Then, a hand rested on his shoulder. “Lo.”

   Logan turned around to see Patton, who looked like he was about to crumple into a terrified heap himself. “Sorry.”

   “For?” Logan began before he was knocked out by something behind him. The logical side falling to the ground in a heap.

   He woke up an indeterminate amount of time to the sounds of someone arguing. It gave him an instant migraine and he groaned in pain. “Where are Randall and Eric?” Logan asked immediately.

   “Oh look, now he’s awake,” Roman said. “They’re sleeping their ordeal off.”

   “No thanks to you,” Logan groaned, holding his head. His vision was swimming could someone obtain some painkillers and water.”

   “Yeah,” Patton said, “give me a minute.”

   Roman opened his mouth, but Logan cut him off.

   “You will wait until my headache has abated,” Logan ordered. “Or I will not listen.”

   “Fine,” Roman responded grumpily. He was given a little respite to relax and massage his temples.

   When he signaled, Roman began, taking a deep breath before letting out a long rant, “Virgil used his fear powers to blanket half the town in a crazed fear spell and now he’s using it to take over the town. This proves he’s evil and needs to be stopped. See this is why we don’t trust villains because they betray, and-or kill us, and really we should have seen this coming. Patton doesn’t believe me, and I need you to talk sense into him.”

   Logan just stared at him, waiting to see if he was actually done or not. Then he looked around. “Iplier I need a scientific explanation.”

   Roman groaned, “Come on, Lo.”

   “Dude, your friend is whack and took out half the city in a gnarly fear trip,” Bing interrupted.

   Logan groaned, “I was talking to the Doctor, I’d rather have Roman’s explanation than that one.”

   “It was pretty cool though,” Roman praised, offering a fist bump and Bing’s fist tapped his. Dr. Iplier was coming over to explain the situation in terms Logan could understand without a headache

    “S’no problemo dude, glad you liked it,” Bing smiles. “But, uh, Anxiety’s probably not working alone.”

   “Explain,” Logan turned back to Bing.

   “So, I went to scout out what was going on, ‘cause the magic whatever doesn’ work on droids like me and Googs, but Anxiety was with Natemare an’ Anti,” Bing rambled. “So I got out of there, they totally didn’t see me.”

   He was with both of ‘em?” Logan asked.

   Yeah, it was super weird, dude was just staring out into space,” Bing reported.

   “Do you have any video logs on the subject?” Logan demanded. Bing nodded and hooked up the closest Ipad anyone had on hand as he began to play a short clip of Anxiety standing in front of Anti and Natemare, the two of them talking as Anxiety was just staring. Standing unnaturally still.

   “That’s a bit creepy, even for him,” Roman admitted.

   “Something’s wrong with him,” Patton cut in. “Normally he doesn’t have good posture but his back’s like a piece of plywood.”

   “Hold up a sec,” Iplier interrupted, and rushed to the door that contained both his and Henrik’s side offices. “Hey, Henrik, get out here, I need your opinion on something.”

   It took a minute, but Henrik was walking out with Iplier, the two of them talking quietly.

   Once the German doctor was standing with the group he looked at the clip, his frown becoming a tight, worried line, “Zat is not gud.”

   “What?” Edward asked his friend.

   Henrik took the recording back a couple seconds and pointed to Virgil. “He is copying Anti.”

   “Is this a possession thing?” Dr. Iplier asked. “Anti can still do that right?”

   “He’s what?” Patton exclaimed, bringing back Logan’s headache. “What are we going to do? We can’t leave him like that.”

   “Patton, don’t scream,” Logan rubbed at his temples.

   “This is awful,” Patton took the Ipad, looking heartbroken. “He must be so scared. What can we do to stop Anti?”

   “Well, a little nap usually helps,” Henrik admitted. “But he might not like us after’vard.”

   “But he’ll be free, that’s good, right, Roman?” Patton turned to him.

   Roman hesitated, but after looking at Patton and then the Ipad, he sighed, “Yeah, Mopey Frown doesn’t deserve it.”

   “That doesn’t explain what we’re going to do?” Dr. Iplier. “If it was just Anti and Natemare would could probably send a couple guys and have Logan use an EMP bomb.”

   The American doctor turned to Logan, “Do you still have one?”

   “Yes,” Logan admitted hesitantly. “But Anxiety is purely organic, and even if he wasn’t the range on them is too close. I would become consumed by his abilities.”

   “What about Emile?” Bing spoke up. “You guys and King said Em’s got some kind of emotional empathy power like Patton, you just need to see him. Stand five blocks away on a rooftop.”

   Patton made an uncomfortable noise, “Yeah, but Anxiety doesn’t like Emile, and Em can’t really do anything if the person’s fighting him. Anxiety’s gonna fight us on every word. Emile’s a bit of a squishy target. Can’t really fight against either Anti or Natemare.”

   “You know who can though,” Roman’s face lit up. He looked over at Logan with a huge smile, leaning in closer to him.

   Logan groaned. “Fine, if we must.”

   “We kinda do,” Roman’s grin didn’t go away, it only got wider.

   “Don’t pretend you hate it,” Roman told Logan. “I know you like being Remy.”

   “So you two are going to fuse?” Bing asked.

   “Yes,” Roman summoned and iced coffee. “Hold this for me, we’re going to want it in a bit. Don’t drink it.”

   “You got it bro,” Bing promised.

   Quickly Roman pulled Logan into the main area and was still all smiles as the creative Side held both hands up to snap his fingers and the space around them shifted. A twenty foot area around them turned into an old fashioned pub and Logan was now sporting a white button-down shirt and a black vest. Roman in a red vest that wasn’t buttoned.

   “Let’s get started,” Roman smiled.

   “I won’t cut out halfway into the song again,” Logan warned. “I still have a headache.”

   “Oh, I’m counting on it Specs,” Roman smiled. “I wouldn’t dare stop a show tune halfway.”

   Roman snapped his fingers as music began coming from the very room around them.

~::~ One Hour Later ~::~

   Silver and Jackie were walking down Main St. with Remy walking behind them. The fused Side’s sunglasses over his eyes, drinking his iced coffee.

   “So you two coming with me?” Remy asked.

   “As soon as Anxiety’s done, we’ll take care ‘a the demons,” Jackie promised.

   “Nice, I’m not exactly demon proof,” Remy smile, taking his still free hand and snapped his fingers at Jackie.

   Remy set his coffee on top of the closest and safest surface. “Let’s do this,” the fused Side yelled. “Anx won’t stop himself.”

   With that Remy stepped into the start of the fear bubble, as the other heroes had taken to calling it, that part of the city was in various states of disrepair. The people trapped in this part had either been rescued or were still causing destruction. Remy felt Virgil’s powers trying to affect him but with two different minds and two different fears, it seemed like it was having a hard time locking onto Remy himself.

   Remy did try and knock out as many people as he could, just so they couldn’t keep harming themselves or others. He tried to put them in safe locations. The rest of the heroes could clean up behind him.

   It didn’t take long to find Anxiety, neither the glitch demons or Virgil were exactly trying to hide.

   “Hey crawler,” Anti caled out time Virgil. “You missed one.”

   Virgil turned as if he’d been jolted and Remy could see the panic on Virgil’s face. A panic that seemed to become more frantic when he saw Remy. “No. No. No. No.”

   Oh, he looks bad. Roman thought.

   Indeed, we need to make this quick. Logan agreed.

   “Hey, Anx,” Remy greeted, sand already appearing at his fingertips. He was trying to keep calm and keep a pin on where Anti and Natemare were. “You look like you could use a nap.”

   Anxiety’s spider limbs shot out and his hands went up. He took a fearful step back.

   Anti snatched the MP3 from Natemare’s hands. “Where do ye think yer goin’ huh?”

   “Hey,” Natemare snapped at him, but Anti was messing with it and Virgil took a jolted step forward.

   The exchange didn’t go unnoticed by Remy or Logan immediately started studying Virgil.

   Now! Logan commanded and Remy smiled. Then he bolted for Virgil who looked even more terrified than before.

   “Come on, V for Vendetta, work with me here,” Remy quipped, trying to get close enough to him to grab at the headphones still in his ears.

   Virgil dodges, which both Remy and Roman thought was unfair someone with huge spider legs could still be so agile. “No, get away from me,” Anxiety shouted back, he stuck a leg in a piece of metal, probably from a car or a newspaper box and flung it at Remy.

   The fusion barely dodged in time, and it almost hit Anti.

   “Hey, watch it!” Anti hissed.

   Remy glanced back, “Well that works too.”

   Virgil kept throwing things at him, bits of rubble, pieces of smoking rubber, rocks, metal; and Remy kept dodging, trying get Anti and Natemare hit in the process.

   It turned out that the fusion got to Virgil before the other villains could get hit. Remy tackled Virgil and panicked Side was trying to throw Remy back off.

   “No, get off me,” Virgil was in a sheer panic and Remy reached up and grabbed the headphones off, knocking Virgil out with his sleep sand instantly. Anxiety slumping to the ground as the fear effects dissipated almost instantly.

   “Shoot,” Anti frowned, walking towards Remy. “Well that was fun at least.”

   “Woah, back it up, jazz,” Remy warned, standing between Virgil and the two glitch demons.

   “Nah, he was gettin’ borin’ anyways,” Anti smiled, “Hey, interested in a cursed artifact?”

   Jackie ran in at full speed, blinging fast with his super speed and slammed his fist into the glitch demon, screaming at the top of his lungs the instant he made contact. Anti violently fractured, but Jackie was now holding the destroyed MP3 player that the two glitch demons had been using.

   The speedster cursed and looked around, spiking the device to the ground. Remy was quick to scoop the thing into his pocket and grab Virgil, pulling his arm over his shoulder. “Hey, I got Wednesday Adams,” Remy quipped. “Let’s split.”

   “Pass him,” Silver flew over and Remy let the other superhero take the unconscious Anxiety and fly away with him.

   “Take him to Iplier, he trusts him,” Remy ordered before turning to Jackieboy Man who was trying to take on Anti while trying to avoid Natemare.

   “Come on, Lo,” Remy muttered as he pulled the arm of his jacket up, Logan’s arm brace firmly strapped onto his wrist. “Tell me you calibrated it.”

   Remy pressed a couple buttons, using Logan’s memories of the device to time up an EMP blast and grabbed onto of the fake bombs out of his pocket before rushing into the fight and throwing the thing at the two villains. It exploded on contact.

   Anti and Natemare screamed and then they were gone. Jackie held his hands up, his nose bleeding and a bit disorientated from the light that had come from the fake EMP bomb.

   “They gone?” Jackieboy asked.

   “For now,” Remy agreed, holding his own heart. “I’m surprised it got both of them in one go.

   Remy and Jackie spent some time with the authorities and the EMT’s, Silver and some of the other heroes arrived to help. Virgil had been dropped off with Iplier, still unconscious from Remy’s sleep sand. After the situation was manageable, the heroes headed back to the base. Mostly to relax, Remy immediately headed over to the medical ward where Ipler and Patton were, tending to a still-unconscious Virgil.

   “How’s he doing?” Remy asked.

   “You really knocked him out,” Iplier admitted, “but his vitals are stable.”

   “Good,” Remy relaxed. “He’s gonna be pissed when he wakes up.”

   “Hopefully not,” Patton whispered. “But he’ll probably be confused when he wakes up. I’m gonna make some cinnamon rolls”

   “Sounds great, Patt-attack,” Remy lowered his glasses to the end of his nose. “How you doing? Wasn’t any time to ask earlier.”

   “I’m good,” Patton smiled.

   “Good,” the fused side asked. “How’s Em?”

   “Doing well,” Patton’s smile got wider.

   “Hey, am I ever going to actually meet Em?” Remy asked.

   “As much as I’d like to, I can’t,” Patton looked away.

   “A guy’s gotta try,” Remy shrugged, and snapped his fingers over Virgil. The petty thief’s nose twitched, and he groaned. “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

   Virgil’s eyes immediately shot open and his eyes started to look between Patton and Remy. He screamed and bolted off the table.

   “Calm down, we didn’t arrest you,” Remy pushed his glasses up his nose in a Logan-esque manner.

   “Did you need to wake him up so abruptly?” Patton frowned, crossing his arms in disapproval.

   “Where am I?” Virgil demanded.

   “My office,” Iplier interrupted. “The heroes brought you here to recover so you wouldn’t have the news poking at you while you slept.”

   “Uhh,” Anxiety looked around, calmed by the fact he clearly wasn’t in handcuffs. “Thanks. I’ll just go.”

   “You’re in the Heroes’ base,” Remy reminded, using Roman’s creativity powers to summon himself up a new frappuccino. “Prolly don’t wanna just walk out there just yet.”

   “What?” Virgil balked.

   Remy slurped noisily at his frappe. “Yeah.”

   “I thought I wasn’t under arrest?” Anxiety reminded.

   “You’re not,” Patton agreed.

   “Haven’t even been read your rights,” Remy cut in. “Certainly can’t keep you here without cause since you obviously didn’t want to be there.”

   “So, I can go,” Anxiety stood up.

   “Let me level with you,” Remy grabbed a chair and sat down. “You know what I am, right?”

   “That’s a stupid question,” Virgil told him. “Of course I do.”

   “Then you know I speak from experience when I say you’re in every position to start making deals,” Remy told him. “Stay, talk a bit, and then if you still want Patt and I can walk you out so no one bothers you.”

   “Why should I believe you?” Virgil spat.

   “Because I’m not Dee,” Remy took another sip of his coffee. “Sides, Logan says your chances are good either way you take it.”

   “So what do you guys want?” Virgil asked, sounding suspicious.

   “Well,” Patton cut in. “You could join us.”

   Anxiety just stared at him, a little surprised laugh slipping out of him, “Excuse me? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

   “Anx, do you wanna spend the rest of your life trailing after Dee and Remus, cleaning up their messes?” Remy leaned in. “Cause that’s what you’re gonna be doing. If you’re really happy with being part of the League then commit and do it, don’t go off and rescue people and then claim to still be one of them.”

   “Remy, be nice,” Patton warned.

   Virgil was quiet, looking uncomfortable.

   “Anx, pardon Rem,” Patton pleaded. “We don’t want you hurt. And I couldn’t stand to see Anti using you like that.”

   “What do you care?” Virgil spat back. “Like you three ever cared, I got stiffed with the box and you three were too busy goofing off help me.”

   “I regret that every day,” Patton started tearing up. “That I didn’t say something to you first, but I don’t wanna see you keep getting hurt. Logan doesn’t either.”

   “Neither does Roman,” Remy interrupted.

   Virgil glared at him.

   Remy held up his hands, “I can’t turn back into them right now to give Ro a chance to prove it to you. All I can do is ask you to give us time to prove it. Please.”

   The hostility in Virgil’s eyes started to soften. It took him a bit to answer, he started playing with his hands for a bit. “I’m not doing patrols, and I don’t do press conferences.”

   “Deal,” Remy looked at Iplier and Patton. “I’ll talk to Silver and Jackie.”

   “Hey, wait,” Virgil’s anxiety spiked. He stood up, “you can’t just do that.”

   “It’ll be fine,” Remy promised, holding the door open for Virgil to step through on his own. A couple leaps of faith.

   Nervously drawing his hood over his face, Virgil followed him and Patton, Iplier bringing up the rear of the group but giving Virgil room to flee and move if he needed to. When they entered the main area of the base, Virgil hid behind Iplier.

   “E’erythin’ okay?” Jackie asked, looking at Anxiety.

   Iplier looked at Virgil, letting Virgil stay behind him. “Yeah, I think so.”

   “Good,” Jackie nodded. “Anxiety, if you’re on the level, welcome to the group. Take a seat, try and relax.”

   Patton smiled at Virgil and went off to go make some cinnamon rolls.

   “Th-Thanks,” Virgil told him, looking around the room. His heart was still hammering out of his chest, but no one was attacking him or yelling at him. Virgil was so calm he’d completely forgotten about the deal he made with Dark weeks ago. Anxiety was just working on calming himself down.

   Later that night, Anti walked out from the Void and in the middle of Dark’s main warehouse, shaking his head to clear some of the residue bits of the EMP black. He was more than a little angry. None of Dark’s enforcers guarding the place stopped him. “Hey, Dinodark!”

   Dark walked out from his office, leaving the door open, a smile on his face as he snapped his neck to his right and straightened out his tie. “Ahh, Anti, you’re alive.”

   “What did that thing actually do?” Anti asked. “I knew yah weren’t paradin’ it around fer shits an’ giggles.”

   “It served its intended purpose,” Dark shrugged. “I have to thank you for being so predictable and helping out. Anxiety drags his feet and I wanted him out of the League.”

   “Well, the hero’s have a new chump working with Logic,” Anti warned. “He had Logic’s tech.”

   “A new apprentice?” Dark mused. “This new hero have a name?”

   “Don’t know, couldn’t be bothered,” Anti shrugged, pulling a knife out. “You owe me, shitbag.”

   “You stole something from me with the intent to harm my network, I owe you nothing,” Dark reminded. “I could have had Anxiety thrown out without your help.”

   “Ye owe me Google fer the next month,” Anti argued.

   Dark scoffed, already turning around before Anti literally snarled and lunged at the greyscaled entity. The two starting a scuffle between two of them. Dark’s enforcers moved out of the way as Dark’s aura clashed with Anti’s knives.

#Superhero AU #Masks and Maladies #Thomas Sanders #Jacksepticeye #Markiplier #Nathan Sharp #Virgil Sanders #Antisepticeye #Natemare #Logan Sanders #Eric Derekson #Randall Voorhees #Patton Sanders #Roman Sanders #Dr. Iplier #Bingiplier #Remy Sanders #Sleep #Silver Shepherd #Jackieboy Man #Mind Control #fusion #Magical Artifacts #possession #Angst #Fix-It of sorts #Greatest Showman references #SAU fusions

[heartedlystyled]

Abu's friend asked Abu to ask me if i would be comfortable to wear Hindu with a Burka.

I'm not huge on burkas because i get the got breath back and im already always hot anyways.

But his friend, Abu said that he found interesting that Hindu is a combination of my usual need for bling combined with Islam dress.

I said i would look for an appropriate outfit in Hindu wear to see if i would he comfortable in Hindu wear...

Its the land of the free, I can wear what i want...

Then we can across the girl on the left and he said "you already kind of dress that way anyways and your daughter, too!"

And i do... In NYC we had friends that were India Hindu, Americans, US military and we played with their kids... And i remember the grandma always seemed to open the door and she always wore the red dot on her forehead. She would stab it to make it upraised with a little needle and she would re tattoo it like every week or So...

It looked like a felt dot glued securely to her forehead.

And she often wore pink and green with gold sequin trim And she was always sewing.

So somehow as an adult, i began dressing my infant daughter that way as i always wore pants or ankle length dresses/skirts... Younger i would wear above the knee with panty hose... But longer meant more freedom like no pantyhose or having to shave above the mid calf... Just in case...

With my infant i would put a cute dress on her with jeans because she would get cold... Cause she couldn't keep socks on and the jeans would cover her feet...

Then as she got older wanting her comfortable to play like a boy but in a dress had me to put leggings on her...

Then for me cause i got excessively fat, I didn't feel comfortable in a shorter dress or skirt... So i also wear pants.

But I do wear spaghetti straps or strapless... Because i like it. It still covers my books so..

And I can understand going to the movies with Abu and his single friend and his friend asking me to wear a bit more than normal...

Its not against me at all.., its about respecting his friend Abu... Like he isn't all trying to be looking at me because hes just sitting and zoning into space... Or because he is looking at me and talking...

Like to go on double dates or in a group and the girls have to wear a certain way... I don't mind to change it up a little so they feel more comfortable... Im not afraid of being shunned.. Abu will ditch them in the parking lot.

Its about supporting a culture, friendship and family.

So if i wear a zebra print burka with pink highlights... Its not the same as Islam dress.. Yet... I'm still making an effort to appease a religious belief that i don't necessarily agree with...

That said I'm not into a burka... But something similar that's sheerer so i sont get too hot... Something similar to what some Hindu wear for special ceremonies.

Growing up in a melting pot of Earth... In NYC we spent A lot of nights sleeping in the Hindu's living room floor in piles of pillows and blankets and pizza. Chips and dip and soda, veggie plate me and gramma shared and the boys had to eat one of...

And we would watch 1 American movie like Ghost Busters or whatever was new and all the Hindu/India movies we wanted. A

Often times they weren't subtitled or in English. But we would watch and the gramma or the dad (they didn't have a nom either) would explain what was happening... A lot of times the boys would go out with my brothers and i would stay inside with the gramma and watch movies and ask her what they said, why their faces changed

Because the boys would understand the scene and they would make part of the movie themselves, like the TV extended to the living room floor and they would pantomime and act out and joke around about what they would do if they were there in the movie scene.

Usually I just watched... And handed supplies... The back drop wall flower watching the people I loved changing the movie scene they would want to have included in the movie each time we watched it...

I loved it

But i also wanted to know what we didn't see. What we missed by living. I wanted to see what was on the other side of the screen that wasn't paid attention to on those fun nights.

Gramma had difficulty with English and expression and sometimes she got embarrassed if it was a romantic scene... So i would go to the TV and point to the people and tell her what i thought they were doing in each scene.

So essentially while my own mother had been killed in front of me and all i could remember of her existence was blood splashing on the brown living room curtains...

This kind Hindu old lady without a daughter in law of her own that died in childbirth, delivering at home and only had grandsons... Taught me about life, relationships, life events, life expectations and expectancy.

I would skip school a lot to go hang out with her... Just not even go. She would open the door to let the boys out and see me and ask "school?" And i would shake my head no "not today"

Eventually my dad asked me why i hadn't been and told them i had to go to school... I would just sit outside her door all day until she went to laundry after lunch and thn i would follow her around the laundry mat downstairs in our apartment building.

So then she got to,walking us all to school... But she said it took too long,to,return home So she would ride her bike in the afternoon, tie it up to the bike rack and then walk us home... In the morning she would walk us to school and she would ride her bike home.

In the 4th grade my class had a window she would pass by to go to the bike rack and i would stand up and wait to see her go by.

She changed. She became leaner and softer and happier. She would let her hair down when she rode by on her bike. Literally letting it flow down behind her, for like miles... Then she would pin it right back up in a Chinese pin she called it.

She taught me about life. About living. And about surviving when even you yourself have no reason for continuing.

And although I was breaking the rules and she knew... She wouldn't let me in the house as she promised but if i helped her fold the laundry as she directed and helped her to twke them from rhe cart and hand the baskets to her frim the doorway she would tell me "you help me, i help you. Here is food" and she would give me lunch and a drink. And she would sometimes sit in the hallway floor with me and talk to me about the movie we watched AFTER school was let over and the boys were home. As my dad had said i could.

To me she wasn't an old lady with a red dot and Hindu clothing.

She was my very dear friend. Very close to my heart. To me, She had no age. She was as young as me, sometimes even younger but smarter. She told me all kinds of stories about her life in India, her son's life... All her children, her husband.

For me i was always in awe, mouth dropped at her tales, they were so beautiful and made her face change dramatically with her huge smiles or her eyes turning round and filling with tears...

Remember how i wrote she had a red dot that looked like felt glued down?

It was

That's exactly what it was.

But one summer it kept falling off. The summer after 3rd grade. The boys would be loud so she would say let's to go outside in the hall and talk.

And i had already caused a huge thing at school, predicting my friend Rose's death and having PTSD, having my 3rd grade teacher arrested as she was from China and would hit us with rulers and make us kneel in rice and peas (she killed herself in prison, she had a 2 year sentence) and so me hanging out with a Hindu lady... It was another story, another event for my file.

I remember a rather large black man would sit around the corner and listen. But she would say "he is spy, i cannot continue talking. It is not Chinese. It is not bad. I di nit want to go in But i do not feel comfortable. You tell me now about you"

"No way! I hate this shit!" So i confronted him. Over and over. Until finally she giggled and told me "invite him to conversate. Tell him sit in floor, like man But be handsome. But not too sexy no no no. He probably married anyway and I'm too old. But please hurry. I'm i get nervous"

"Oh please! Don't tell me! You're too old! You already have kids! You can't date!" I said veey loudly as i walked to the corner "up get -- HEY GET BACK HERE!!! SHE WANTS YOU TO SIT AND CONVERSATE!! don't be a dummy come on" i caught him nearmy running to,the staircase.

"Do you know how old i am? I'm nearly 40! You can't talk to me like that!"

"I can. I just did. Now please sit. Would you like something to drink? I can get you some kool-aid"

"What's she drinking?"

"Its gin"

"I would like some, too"

"What's gin?"

"Just go"

Finally i found what i knew gin was and i handed him a deck of cards.

I learned her tricks... When she's annoyed or uncomfortable or suspicious, she flirts. She acts like he's all over her and she's all flat drunk out... Y'all have seen me do them. The unlucky fall for them.

But he didn't and she was drinking water.

And he told her my story. The stories i hid. The stories i wish never happened. The stories i forbid to be spoken around me.

And i tuned my back to,them so they could not see me,cry or push my migraines away. And it continued for days. And she ran out of tissues and i had to use toilet paper for my nose.

Then her red dot, the eye of the God ran began to fall off her face, everyday. She got new glue. Stronger glue. And it will still fall.

So shr asked him "what is this? Why this fall?"

He said "if you ask me, She loves you and now you know you know what love is and you don't need that to protect you anymore"

"It is not to protect but to see"

"To look for love that i know about you Hindu. That is all you speak To her about. Its love. That i do know and now you know her pain and how much she needs you. You understand --- is that all you do us cry?"

"She speaks"

"You know what i want you to do is get that tattooed but in blue. Next time I come to see you, I'll bring a book i have been studying and i will show you, its perfectly acceptable to get a tattoo of it on your face,but an any color. Because you know why you identify eith her -- i mean why you are both friends with each other, is because you are both sad"

"She sad. I'm sad. So now I'm friends? With her, a small child? I am odd duck"

"Now now don't you smile, Sabrina don't you laugh at the old lady!"

"Shes funny! She's not ducking she's brave! And she's small not odd and she's sweet and even,you like her! You tell her to,get tattoo! You're strange if at all!" I blurted out... The first time I talked in weeks, it felt... In reality only about 5 days.

And so long conversations short... She used a blue pen to draw a star... As he said she was my star, my human North star, to help me find the light in life and she had came to me when my life was most darkest And i was extremely suicidal and had been caught trying to drown myself like umpteen times... Cause i wanted to die outside because it felt better than dying inside all stuffy and around people like Denise. And i wanted to drown in the river but someone always saw me. 8 years old and all... I had my desires in how to die. I wasn't stupid or mindless.

He said she had been given red as her felt dot, from a priest, because she had felt love. Still knew love, still wanted love and Still believed in it and Still looked for it.

But he said that sometimes the dot could change. It could change shapes, sizes and colors. And he said if her brain leaked out, it didn't leak love, it leaked sadness. So thus her permanent eye of ra should be blue. A light color blue not too dark because she allowed light and happiness to shine thru the tears of her world.

And that was what she had taught me... Once I learned the videos then I would interact with the TV... And the boys would watch and then we would all play along with what was on the either side of the screen and i taught them what i had learned from Granny Hindu.

She would watch us and cry. The dad would watch in shock and awe as his sons were finally being taught their native tounge and important parts of the movie and ceremonies. Sometimes he would cry.

Eventually he began wearing his Hindu traditional wear and they would get up and dance the traditional Hindu dance and teach us while we the the pillows and blankets up on the couch. And we would laugh

Of course my back would hurt easily and the boys, because of the dad, all eventually would pick me up and dance with me like i was a doll, then supporting my small amount of bony weight with their arms.

And the dad would do the granny..,her feet dangling at his knees would make me,laugh so heartily!!

The boys wouldn't pick me up so high... Mostly I would lean on their shoulders or elbows...

And so granny settled on blood sweat and tears as she realized it wasn't happiness she knew best but sadness.

And she got a light blue tear in the middle of her forehead, tattooed. And she would wear a jewel over it, shaped like a tear, as beautiful as ever. But sometimes she wore a larger than in the past, red felt circle over it... "I looked for love and i found it and it hid all my tears"

So of course I would dress myself and child subconsciously in Hindu like garb. And of course I would wear it when out with people of Islamic culture.

The tattoo shop which had done her light blue tear, eye of Earth had also shown hwr how to hand poke tattoos as is conventional in her home country of India. Although she had her ra in a professional tattoo gun.

The government spy man had arranged it for her. He also came to our weekend slumber parties, some times falling asleep after a long hard work day on the couch like a child and we would give him a blanket we ha from out massive pile and cover him. I would say "heres you a blankey" and usually he would take the corner with his massive black hand or sometimes just sigh, inhale nd exhale deeply. Usually me and the boys took turns to cover him.

Little children covering an over 6 foot tall almost 40 year old man.... Ages from 5 to 10...

Because that is what love is.

Sometimes he would start breakfast... After the first dozen times escaping in the night after catching up with his zzz's and we told,him if he was gonna,crash the slumber party with his big body probably breaking the couch with all his long bones and muscles then he needed to crash all the way and watch Saturday morning cartoons. Cause that was the best and breakfast in bed... Or the pile of blankets an sheets nd pillows like a nest for baby birds as we called it. That was the best part. After waking up woth friends we loved and understood when we felt most misunderstood in the world. Them being Hindu with a gramma with a red dot the tattoo in the middle of her forehead totally misunderstood was she a witch? Crazy? How old was she? 40? 100? And then us, watching our mother murdered, barely being able to remember her or just being able to,watch the blood spray md wonder and,cry where was our lovely mother? And the puking. The days and night of puking and puking from fear, disgust, worry and sadness. And still death seemed to follow us everywhere no matter how we predicted it or didn't or wanted it or didn't. Cared or didn't. Prayed or didn't. It was just there. Always there.

And so he would stay... Did we find him in granny bed above the covers cuddling fully clothed once or twice? Yea. And we decided it was better than Saturday morning cartoons and so we all silently munched cereal and watched them, sitting in her bedroom floor doorway... Until we feared they were dead and then I would whisper hey and he would jump awake from laying on her shoulder or sometimes boob/rib or gramma Hindu would slowly open her eyes and be in her little dreamlike state and the first few times was innocent "hey there's a man in your bed. That isn't s pillow laying on you" we would whisper

But there was that one time... That one time that she fully seduced him like the prowling cougar she is and it was a whole different Saturday morning when she clutched the blanket to,her chest and said "YOU KIDS GET OUT!!"

And I not understanding cried at her "Why are you acting Chinese!?!?! I'm not getting out until you explain!!!"

So i had to be explained that he was in his boxers and had been under the covers and they didn't want all the kids to see their privacy

And i said "Fine! I'll get out! But that's gross!!!"

Because at 8 thats what i believed.

"And you should have made breakfast or i wouldn't had known!!" And i spun on my heel and threw my hair in his face.

And Alex asked me "what's going on? I mean with them?"

"I can't talk about it" heavy slumped shoulders, neck aching "let's just watch TV that's better" he bugged on and on until i covered my head to avoid him and fall back asleep

But when i woke he asked again and i told him "they had sex"

And he called me a liar and herded all the boys to go ask.

And then they called me back to,the room so we could get an explanation

And I said "i don't want to hear all this shit. I know the birds and the bees. In and out it goes"

But he tried to talk to us about love...

But Alex threw up..

Because our mother's murderer whom used a chainsaw to her neck while we were all assembled to watch... Then said that exact same thing and had added "want to watch" as he raped our mom's nearly decapitated body.

He was right. Sadness would always exist because of love.

Well us kids didn't care about two consenting adults with their heads fully attached.. Unfortunately her son did and he was really an ass hole. Only caring about himself and his feelings, then put in for a transfer to move across country to get his 60 year old cougar momma away from a early 40 year old kitten...

Destroying his son's lives in the process... And ours... And even his own happiness

Instead of allowing his mother freedom to love.

But before all this the young thug kitten only looking for one thing So said the father, an alley cat, he was allowed gramma Hindu to hand poke a tattoo on his right toe. An S. With an astrick just tucked inside the bottom tail.

"Samaria"

That was Grandma Hindus name.

She gave herself the one i drew above... An S for Sabrina for helping her find Samaria again And of course the S for herself as well.. And two stars... One for the one we could see in her in the bottom and the other to honor the stars she could see... And she told me one for me and one for her for our friendship. And the F next to Because they were so most important to her... The F did get bigger over time and eventually became the same,size as the S as her family evolved and changed...

I suppose the story is true. She handpoked white in the "standing leg" of the F to represent the Father, her son of the family in anger because of the move.

She could have stabbed him to death. I would not had blamed her.

[drowningwavez]

I took seroquel yesterday after therapy as my nervous system was in overdrive as she did some more somatic type stuff by asking me where I felt certain things in my body. But last night I was in so much pain from my hips down. My bad leg felt like someone was stabbing it with a knife.

I then woke up with a really bad headache likely from the seroquel as it always gives me headaches/migraines. Went to physio and despite me telling him I had a terrible headache and my leg was killing me he still got me to go into the gym.

My hip is really sore on the outside it feels like it’s the bursa being inflamed or the actual bone as it doesn’t feel like it’s from right muscles which I get a lot. But my hips have been really bad lately I sleep on my side and wake up several times a night from the pain of lying on my hip. I wouldn’t be suprised if something’s going on because hip problems are really common after a spinal fusion.

I also got a spot in the art therapy course! I go in and meet her next week but I realised my rheumatologist appt is the same day the course starts... and I don’t want to delay it more but o know they likely won’t let me join if I miss the first session...

#personal #pain #chronic pain