#and i tried so hard not to let myself get sick or have unusual bad symptoms like this so that

[thoughts-and-all-that]

why are you such a fucking bitch. fuck you with your fucking 'i dont give a fuck that you got rightfully mad that some teenage brat is calling your existence a joke so you called him a brat for, yknow, BEING A BRAT'. why the fuck do i always have to be the bigger person. im sick of being the bigger person.

im on my last strings with this group idefc man. if i get demoted or smthn like this happens one more time. i dont even care ill just leave. what the fuck is one more restart on my pile of dozens. these people are barely close to me anyway. not like theyll fucking care. and itll just end up being one more group of people who hate me in the end. not unusual.

im only really friends with like, one or two of them, but also not really. when was the last time we played a game together, VCd together, any of that? its been forever. i could join the vc anytime but theyre always playing shit idc about and talking about shit idc about. why cant i ever be what i care about. why not ask to play the game they know i love. even just for an hour or two.

i know im always forcing others to prove they care about me without me even telling them thats what im doing but like... they dont really prove it much. theyll hit me up if i go silent and then i come back and the cycle repeats

its always like this. why cant i just find the place where i truly connect with people and everything is just fine. why is it always something.

all i wanna fucking do is play minecraft and talk about whatever dorky kids show/movie im obsessing over this time. why is that so hard.

maybe its me, but like, im literally so fucking chill if people arent being stupid, but they get stupid so much.

at this point im fucking holding back from leaving that server. a year and a half down the drain just like that. its always a year and a half or less. i guess i just cant handle long term relationships.

my only real friend is a fucking stuffed animal. i think if i got one wish in this world, id be selfish and wish she were real. just the way i imagine her and everything. why should anyone else get my wish when all of them disappoint and hurt me time and time again. she would never hurt me.

maybe im just destined to be alone. too bad for that destiny that i desperately grasp onto what little connection i hold to humanity left.

maybe i do need to go to a mental hospital finally. ill give it a week before i make that choice. i need to at least get my new glasses in 6 days anyway.

i just feel my brain deteriorating and i cant do much about that i think.

ill just suffer like always.

i dont care if im being selfish. i think ive earned it after a lifetime of never getting what i want. what i truly want.

cause instead i was born into a family of people i wouldnt otherwise interact with ever, in a town full of people that never cared about me, especially not the way i tried to care about them, in a body thats not mine. in a life thats not mine.

i feel as if i were misplaced at birth. misplaced nonphysically. like i was meant to be somewhere else, somewhere right, and something went wrong. and the universe just never corrected itself. it left me here.

there wasnt a point to this post. im just sick of feeling all these things and having nowhere to say them. i cant let people i know hear me say shit like this. its not like theyd listen anyway.

i wish i wasnt broke so i could get a stupid fucking therapist already. i wish preventing myself from wanting to die and hate myself and hate the world wasnt so unaffordable.

anyway haha mental illness moment woahagagahshhhaoahah so funni wild wowza woooo

[mariska]

very professional artist's interpretation of what i have looked like for the past two hours

[seriouslysnape]

Under the Weather

Harry Potter x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Fluff. Sickness. 

Word Count: 1,518

“I just hate that you’re feeling bad.”

Harry felt bad. Correction: Harry felt terrible. He watched as you crawled into your bed with sunken eyes and a nasty sounding cough. He wouldn’t ever say this out loud, but you didn’t look so good at all. It was all his fault that you were sick, and he wouldn’t let himself forget it anytime soon.

He had just recovered from possibly the worst case of the flu that he had ever fallen ill with. It had knocked him on his ass for a week due to the fatigue, coughing, fever, and body aches. Pomfrey had done all she could to try to make him comfortable enough, but the strain was just a bit more than her remedies could fix this time around. He was stuck in bed with nothing to do but roll around in his sickness and complain about how bad he felt. 

In the end, Harry was able to recover swiftly and without any real problems. Before too long, he was as good as new thanks to your help. You had taken extra good care of him by keeping him cool from the fever but warm from the chills. You made sure he was eating, even if it was just chicken and soup everyday. You made sure he was hydrated and getting plenty of rest to ensure his recovery...which also included lots of snuggles and kisses.

It turned out that those snuggles and kisses were rather sickly ones, and about the time that Harry was fully feeling better, you had begun to feel crummy. Harry actually noticed it before you did. It was extremely rare for you to sleep later than him. You almost always were up and going before him, but on particular Friday morning, you were still knocked out when he woke up. Not only that, you were unusually warm and ill looking. He had pressed the back of his hand to your head, feeling a pit of guilt when he realized that you definitely were running a fever.

He had woken you up, feeling even worse when you began to cough. He had practically jumped out of your bed, wrapping you up and doing whatever he could to make you comfortable. You had all the same symptoms that he did, and you were guaranteed to be in for a long week. He had insisted that he take another week off from classes to watch over you, but he was already a week behind, and there was no chance that you were letting him fall back more on your account.

He went through all of his classes in a haze of worry. He knew that he had undoubtedly gotten you sick. There was no way that you could’ve gotten it from anyone else. He didn’t even stop in the common room after his classes, going straight back to your dorm where he had left you. When he did walk into your room, you were standing at your trunk, looking weak and drained. You would’ve thought that you had tried to mouth off to Professor Snape by the way Harry reacted.

“What are you doing?!” He shrieked, closing your door and rushing to you.

You threw your hands up in defense, sniffling more drainage out of your nasal passageway.

“What? I’m getting changed. I was in the same pajamas from last night and I felt gross,” You explained with a congested tone, not seeing the big deal, “I’m fine, Harry.”

He ruffled your hair when he noticed it was damp. His face fell into even more horror.

“Did you shower?” He asked as if it were a crime.

“Uh, yes?” You replied nonchalantly.

“But you’re sick! You could’ve...I don’t know! You could’ve fainted or sneezed so hard that you fell or-”

“Harry, I’m not dying. It’s just the flu.” You argued, giggling at his dramatic act.

That sealed the deal. He was dedicating his entire weekend to make sure you were at least on the road to recovery by Monday if you weren’t going to “take care” of yourself.

“Get in bed, you mad woman! What are you doing up?!” He shrilled again, ushering you to your bed again.

That was when you returned to bed to put HIM at ease, looking and sounding just plain awful. That was also when he REALLY started to feel guilty for your current state. He rushed around the room, setting things up the way you had in his when he had been sick. He layered blankets onto your bed, turned on some soft music, made sure the windows were closed to make sure you didn’t catch a cold draft. The only difference was that you had spoken to him in sweet, calm tones. Harry was running around like a chicken with its head cut off.

“Are you warm enough, my love?” Harry asked, adding yet another blanket on top of you, rushing to your desk on the other side of the room.

“Yes, Harry. I told you that I’m fin-”

“Do you want a book? Or maybe I can sneak into the kitchen and bring you a snack?” Harry rattled off, barely letting you get a word in.

“No, angel. I don’t want-”

“I promise I don’t mind! The castle is pretty quiet this time of night and Filch is easy to sneak around and-”

“Harry!” You finally croaked out through your already hoarse voice, “I don’t need anything. I’m fine.” 

Harry’s demeanor softened. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing slowed. He was getting himself worked up over nothing, and panicking wasn’t going to solve anything at all.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” He said, sitting on the edge of your bed, “I just hate that you’re feeling bad.”

You shrugged under the pile of covers, giving him a feeble grin. 

“I’m okay. I don’t feel that bad. Just a little under the weather I guess.” You brushed it off.

Harry smiled softly with an even gentler laugh. You certainly didn’t look “a little under the weather”. He had been much more difficult when he was sick. He kicked the sheets off of his body and complained that it was too hot, and then hissed that it was too cold each time he got a new chill. He whined when he had to keep changing clothes because the sweating from his fever dampened his pajamas. You, on the other hand, were perfectly content, even in your ill state. 

“If you say so. Can I squeeze in with you, darling?” He queried, wanting to hold you close in your bed.

“I don’t want you to get sick again. You’re already behind.” You shook your head.

“I don’t care about that. I just want to be with you, my pretty girl.” Harry bantered.

He knew you hated missing school, and you were sure to miss at least a week. The thought of you having to spend the next several days cooped up in your dorm made him feel awful. Worst of all, you weren’t your normal, healthy self and it was all because of him. He wanted you to be happy and at your best at all times, because seeing you happy made him happy. 

“[Y/N], baby, I’m sorry I got you sick. I shouldn’t have let you get so close to me and love up on me. If I had known it was so contagious I would’ve taken care of myself.” Harry apologized, his eyes lowering, finding your hand under all the sheets and giving it a caring caress. 

“It’s not your fault. I wanted to take care of you. I always want to...love up on you,” You remarked, laughing at his previous choice of wording, “I couldn’t let you be sick and not do anything. I care about you.”

Harry’s eyes found yours again, his lips upturning into a wide smile as he looked at your lovingly.

“You really love me that much, huh?” He questioned, bringing your clammy palm to his lips for a ginger kiss.

“That much and more,” You returned with a smirk, “Now shut up and get in bed with me. I need cuddles.”

Harry leapt up from the side of the bed, rushing to the empty, opposite side.

“Yes ma’am.” He joked, crawling in and pulling you flush to his chest.

He winced at how warm you still were, but he was sure that the fever would subside with time. Harry’s paranoia had subsided almost completely, but he still kept a hand on your back to make sure you were breathing...just in case. He’d cater to your every need to make sure you’d be better soon. You’d be back to normal in no time with Harry Potter as your caretaker.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Harry. I really appreciate it.” You sniffed, beginning to feel drowsy as your body fought off the horrid sickness.

Harry pressed a kiss to your forehead, keeping you safe and comfortable in his arms. It was something he would do until forever ran out...with or without a bad case of the flu.

“I’ll always take care of you. No matter what.”

******

Tags: @writingscape @lupinsslut @msmimimerton @thefilmcity

[yutanology]

Promise Me | Yandere! Nakamoto Yuta X Fem!Reader

Warning : 18+, possessive, foul behaviours, sexual content(nothing biggie), mental illness, death, etc. No proofread. Please, don't be too harsh on me. I'm still new and this is my first ever one shot/fanfiction here :)

Word count : 2.4k+

"Could you just stop?" Y/n whisper shouted at her seatmate who had been bothering her since this morning.

It's not like this is new to her or to anyone in their class but today, he seemed to be more clingy and touchy than he usually was and she found it quite unusual.

By the time she stepped into the school campus this morning, he abandoned his game with his friends on the soccer field just to greet her with his dashing smile and a nice warm hug.

She didn't mind it at first as she was already used to it but when she thought he's going to leave her alone after that, he followed her around instead like a lost puppy. She could almost see a furry tail happily wagging behind him.

Everywhere she goes, he's there right beside her. Either his hands were holding hers or his arms were wrapped around her lower waist. Some people were jealous or happy when they thought they're finally officially together and when someone questioned their relationship, Y/n would immediately respond saying they're just friends while Yuta would say otherwise, leaving them confused.

He was still attached to her during her classes and even ditched his just to be with her. The teachers could only sigh in defeat and shake their head. They knew that whatever they say, there's nothing they can do to make the stubborn guy follow their orders.

At the end, he'd always get what he wants.

The Japanese boy glanced at her side profile. His head was laying on top of his other hand. Seeing her brows furrowed irritatedly, he stopped for a moment before continuing to twirl a few strands of her silky hair between his long fingers.

It doesn't look like he has any plans of keeping his hands to himself at all. She'd been trying to get rid of him for countless times and she failed with all of those useless attempts. She's so close of getting angry at him but she doesn't want to lash out on him and seem like a bad person.

With her another sigh passing through her soft reddish lips, she looked at the clock on the wall. ‘Just five minutes more, Y/n. Just a little more patience, you can do it.’ she tried to convince herself. By those five minutes, she let Yuta play with her hair.

When the school bells rang and echoed around the campus, she immediately fixed her things and rushed out of the classroom before the teacher could even dismiss them. The corridors are already crowded and she could only hope that Yuta wouldn't be able to follow after her this time.

She decided to go to the restroom and stayed there until she was certain that Yuta's nowhere around her. He's really acting weird and she couldn't understand why. Whenever she asked what's wrong with him, he'd always say the same thing like 'I'm fine. It's all in your mind.’

His gaze, the way he looks at her also felt different this time. She felt something uneasy somewhere in the pit of her stomach or maybe there's something wrong with 𝘩𝘦𝘳. Maybe she's just overthinking way too much since that's what she always do mostly when she doesn't get enough sleep and she stayed up late last night.

That's right... these shit are all just in her head.

She released an exhausted sigh and turned the faucet on to wash her face, hoping that it would also wash her frustrations away. She reached for a handkerchief from her bag and wiped her face dry as she made her way out of the comfort room.

Her heart almost jumped out of her ribs when she found Yuta standing just a single step from the exit. She gasped and her hand immediately flew to her chest in surprise. "Yah! Stop scaring me like that!" she yelled and he only chuckled in amusement.

"I've been waiting for you. What took you so long?" he asked her, locking his hand on hers as he lead her to the canteen. Eyes of the people they passed by were immediately on them like they're more interesting than the lessons that their teachers taught them.

"Wait, why were you waiting for me?" confusion was evident on her face.

"So we can eat together for lunch, of course. Come on, we don't have all the time. Classes are going to start after forty minutes." he casually said, pulling her closer to him when they walked passed a group of boys and he didn't fail to notice the way they looked at Y/n.

He didn't like it, not even a bit.

Y/n seriously couldn't count how many times she sighed at how she always end up letting Yuta do whatever he wanted to do with her. From the simple hand holds to sudden random kisses that he pepper on her face. No matter how hard she tried to push him off, he'd always stick himself even more closer to her.

It was like that for the passed weeks and it was honestly so tiring as hell. Yuta just won't leave her alone even when she goes to the restroom, he would insist to wait outside the cubicle that she had to push him away and lock the main door of the room.

She could barely talk to other people peacefully as he would shoo them away immediately and ask them to leave her alone. It was so frustrating and she's getting fed up of his unexplained foolish practices.

She's well aware that the guy likes her more than just a friend and she also can't deny that she's attracted to him but these behaviours of his are just too much for her.

The said dirty blonde haired Japanese guy was sitting closely beside her, his chin rested on her right shoulder as he watched her turn pages of the book that she's reading. He wasn't paying attention to the words written on the dead leaves. His eyes stared at her small hands, wondering how they would feel like around his cock—

"Yuta." the guy's ears perked up when she said his name. Snaking his arms around her waist, he pulled her to his chest and planted a kiss on her neck. Her cheeks heated at the unexpected skin contact but she tried her best to ignore the butterflies that he's giving her.

She's planning to finally confront him and she had to make him stop whatever he's doing cuz it's no fun at all. It's not entertaining and she's not amused at all. "Yuta." he hummed, his kisses getting wet and he started to graze his teeth on her skin, lightly nibbling on them until he finally bit hard enough to leave a mark.

A whimper tried to escape her mouth but she's fast enough to bite her lower lip, trapping the sound until it disappeared on it's own. He was disappointed when she didn't make any sound for him, thinking that he didn't do well enough to make her feel good so he ran the tip of his tongue on her neck.

His hot minty breath heated her skin and tingles spread around her body when he blew her sensitive ear, nibbling her earlobe and placing a kiss on one of her flushed cheeks. His hands wandered under her blouse, caressing the side of her hips with his thumb.

He slowly dragged his large hands up under her breasts and just when he was about to touch them, Y/n pulled away from him. A low whine and groan simultaneously erupted from him, complaining at the lose of skin contact from her.

Y/n looked around the library if someone saw them and she was thankful that no one was there but only them. She straightened her blouse, closing the book and stood up. "Where are you going?" he also stood up from his seat, ready to follow her wherever she's going.

She didn't answer him. She slung one of her bag's strap on her shoulder, walking away with the book and placed it back to where she took it. Yuta was quick to keep up with her steps, confused of why she was suddenly in a hurry.

When they finally got out of the library, she stopped at the nearby bleachers where students barely pass by and turned to him with an exasperated sigh, "Yuta, seriously, what's wrong with you?" the way she questioned him came out more stressed out than how she wanted it to be.

Yuta blinked his eyes a few times as if he's trying to figure out what she meant. "What do you mean, what's wrong with me? I'm totally fine. Are you okay?" it was his turn to ask her, walked close to her and placed a hand on her forehead.

"Are you sick? You don't seem fine to me. Let me take you to the clinic—"

"Yuta, stop." she stepped away from him before he could even hold her hand. He halted, his brows met as his eyes stared at her worryingly.

"Stop whatever you're doing to me and please, leave me alone. I also need some time for myself and other people around me, alright? You can't keep me from interacting with anyone. This is honestly suffocating, Yuta. We can't keep doing this."

He felt like his heart shattered into tiny pieces. His chest tightened and his airways narrowed, making him unable to breath properly. Without him knowing, tears were already streaming down his cheeks.

Y/n was taken aback at this, immediately feeling guilty for making him cry. She didn't expect him to be this emotional for his appearance.

"Look, I'm sorry but—"

"D-don't you love me anymore, Y/n?" He didn't let her finish her words, leaving her speechless at the question.

Her mouth left agape, struggling to find the right words to tell him. "Did you find someone else better than me that's why you're planning to leave me, is that it?" more salty water poured out of his eyes.

"Yuta, w-what are you talking about? We're not in a relationship to begin with."

"Then let's be together officially! Just you and me, Y/n. I'll do anything just to be with you. I promise, I'll be the best boyfriend you'll ever have. I'll give you everything you want—" he held her arms, "—just promise me I'll be the only one you'll ever love and want to be with. Promise me, Y/n. Promise me!"

Yuta secured his arms around her, holding onto her desperately. Scared that if he lets go, he might lose her. He can't let that happen. Like what he said, he'll do whatever it takes just to have her.

All for himself.

"Y-you have to promise me, Y/n."

Her head was clouded with a lot of thoughts. She was barely thinking straight and her emotions also messed up with her. She really likes Yuta. The increasing speed of her heartbeat and the butterflies flying around her stomach with euphoria whenever she's with him didn't lie at all but it felt wrong.

These feelings didn't feel right.

She pulled herself away from him and shook her head. "I'm sorry, Yuta..." that was all she said before she left him without even looking back at him.

She had no idea how it broke him and how it made him do things that a normal person wouldn't do. He saw nothing but red after she disappeared from his sight. Everyone who tried to touch or talk to her the next day suddenly disappeared, a minute after they left somewhere else.

At first, she didn't think much about it until the number of people disappearing quickly increased and made everyone alarmed. All schools around the place were forced to close for a moment and people were told to stay at home with tight security to keep them safe.

Everyone was scared including Y/n, of course.

It made her so anxious that she could barely sleep at night. One morning, a knock on her door echoed around her silent apartment and she panicked, quickly hiding on her bedroom.

She almost peed her pants in fear when the knocking and ringing of doorbells continued for minutes. Her phone went off on her nightstand and she ran to it. Yuta's calling.

Without a second thought, she answered it with trembling voice. "Y-yuta..."

"Y/n, are you okay? Please open your door for me, I have to make sure you're safe. I'm the one outside your house."

And that was all it took for him to be with her. Make her scared to be outside, convince her that everyone is dangerous and he's the only one who can protect her.

Whenever he goes outside to buy food and other necessities for the both of them, he'd always return with a small cut or bruises and it made Y/n scared that she might lose him too.

He's all she had left.

He made her thought of that. He's all and everything she could ever need. She'd be nothing without him.

"Do you love me?" he asked and she nodded silently.

"If you really do, promise me that you'll love me and only me, Y/n. I wanna hear it from you." Yuta looked at her straight in the eyes when he said those words.

"I promise." his heart raced inside his chest.

A smile stretched out on his plump lips. "I love you, Y/n. So much than you could ever imagine." He meant it. He always had and always will. He leaned his body closer to her, locking his lips with hers and they moved in sync.

This is paradise to him.

He couldn't explain how much happy he's right now. With her here in his arms, it's the only place where she's safe. He watched her drift off to sleep, he kissed her forehead when her eyes finally closed.

He could look at her like this forever. The love bites that he painted on her skin looks so beautiful. She's like the most beautiful painting he'd ever seen and she deserve to be placed on his art gallery but she's only for him to be looked at.

He sighed dreamily as he continued to press more kisses on her neck. He successfully made her love him. There's nothing he could ask for, now that her naked body is already tangled with him under their soft blanket.

He could only hope that she'd keep her words and stay true to him.

Feedbacks are pretty much appreciated and requests are open! Feel free to share your thoughts!

I will not always be active but I will try my best to attend each of your requests and to also interact with y'all.

I apologize for not being word-perfect in English. English sadly ain't for me—

[helloalycia]

girl next door [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: the time has come where you realise your boyfriend just isn’t worth it, and your neighbour may or may not be an Avenger

warning/s: none i don’t think??

author’s note: part 3 is here! I kinda got carried away and wrote two more parts so my bad, but i hope you like it!

part one | part two | part four | part five | masterlist | wattpad

I couldn't be bothered with today. I just wasn't in the mood to go to work, so of course, I procrastinated as much as I could in the morning until it was finally time for me to get out of bed without being late.

Teddy had fallen asleep here last night after we watched a film, but he left earlier for work, so it was just me. I knew I had to break it off with him, it was time. But I didn't know how to tell him without hurting him. So, I was cowardly in that sense, which was only worse because I was leading him on. I'll find a way to say something soon, I promised myself as I took my clothes off and wrapped a towel around myself.

When I headed to the bathroom, I immediately slipped on the wet floor that only one person could have left behind. But, unlike the many times I had done so, I wasn't able to catch myself and instead fell on my leg, hearing a deadly crack noise, forcing a scream from my lips.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," I got out through gritted teeth, tears slipping from my eyes. The pain was unbearable and as I looked to my leg, I knew something was wrong because it instantly began to swell up and change colour.

Taking deep breaths to get through the pain, I tried not to imagine the several ways I was going to skin Teddy alive. He was so ignorant! How many times did I have to explain to him how dangerous it was to leave the floor wet?!

"It's okay, Y/N, you're okay," I told myself, before stretching and grabbing my phone from the side.

A striking pain shot up my leg and I suddenly felt nauseous, unable to deal with it. Swallowing hard, I called Teddy to give him a piece of my mind but also ask for his help since I couldn't move. Unfortunately for me, it went to fucking voicemail making me scream with frustration. I clenched my jaw as I tried to stand up myself, but more tears rolled down my cheeks as I accepted I was stuck.

The next person who came to mind was Wanda. If I was lucky and she wasn't at work, she'd be able to help me up and get me to a hospital.

I called her next and thankfully, unlike the arsehole that was my soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend, she answered.

"Hey, Y/N!"

I breathed out as calmly as I could. "Hi, Wanda. I, er, I need your help."

"Everything okay?" she asked with concern.

I nodded, though I felt really sick as I tried to avoid looking at my leg. "Yeah, well– no. This is really embarrassing, but I slipped on the bathroom floor and I think my leg is broken. Please can you come 'round and help me up?"

"Shit, Y/N, of course!" she exclaimed.

"Thanks," I got out breathily. "Spare key is taped under the plant pot outside my door."

"Just hold on," she insisted, before hanging up.

I dropped my phone to the side and glanced down at myself, definitely embarrassed that I was sat here in my underwear and bra, but also glad that I wasn't completely naked.

As promised, Wanda came as soon as possible and I heard her approaching the bathroom before she squeaked and covered her eyes.

"S-sorry!" she said, flustered. "I didn't mean to look. I just–"

"Wanda, you need to see if you're to help me up," I said as nicely as I could without snapping from the pent up anger reserved for Teddy.

She removed her hand, though her eyes wouldn't meet mine. "Right, yeah, duh. Okay, er..."

Successfully, she managed to lift me up and let me use her for support as we limped to my bed and I took a seat.

"Can you pass me my–"

"Clothes, right," she caught on, still not meeting my eyes, before moving around the room to grab a shirt and shorts.

I put my shirt on with ease, but she had to help me with my shorts as I tried my very hardest not to cry from the pain. My leg, or rather my knee, was turning a yellow-purple colour pretty quickly, making me flinch.

"How did this happen?" she asked with worry, gaze falling to my leg.

I clenched my jaw. "My stupid fucking boyfriend. I've told him so many fucking times to mop the damn floor! And he always says okay, but he never does! Oh, boy, when I get my hands on him, he's gonna wish he'd never been born!"

"Y/N–"

"And can you believe he has the audacity to have his damn phone switched off?! I could be dying and he wouldn't even know! That selfish, ignorant son of a–"

"Y/N!" she called, snapping me out of my rant. "Hospital."

"Right, hospital," I agreed. "No ambulances because they're way too expensive. Maybe you can get me down to a taxi and I'll take it from there?"

She raised her eyebrows with disbelief. "You're kidding, right?"

I mirrored her expression. "Er, no? Ambulances are like $700, and even with my insurance that's like $400. Taxis are, what, twenty bucks?"

She wasn't convinced as she crossed her arms and stared at me with uncertainty. I sighed and tried to stand up, but I pulled a face at the pain. She was quick to help me stand, giving me support on my right side.

"This is gonna take a while," I mumbled, biting back annoyance.

"Don't hate me," she said suddenly.

I looked to her, furrowing my brows. "What are you talking about?"

She avoided my gaze and instead swept me off my feet quite literally, taking me by surprise. I wrapped my arms around her neck on instinct, eyes widening as she held me close, bridal-style.

"Wanda, you can't just carry me like this," I said, though I was surprised at how strong she was.

She ignored me and walked out the bedroom before stopping at the fire escape. I gripped her tightly, wondering what the heck was going on. There was a hint of red in her eyes, startling me, before I noticed the two of us rising into the air. Levitation, to be exact.

"Woah!" I shouted, holding her as tightly as I could. "What the hell?! How–?! What–?!"

As she flew us away from our building, there was a red hue floating all around us, like an energy I'd never seen before. Except it seemed familiar... and that's when I put it together.

"You're that Avenger!" I blurted out. "The witch, the one with all the magical powers! You're– you're– Oh my God."

She frowned, eyes darting to mine apologetically. "I know. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

I swallowed hard, fearfully glancing over her shoulder at the clouds interwoven with the tall buildings of New York. Never in a million years did I think I'd be flying amongst them, with an Avenger nonetheless. She'd fought at the battle of New York, I remembered seeing her on the TV. She was dubbed an official Avenger not long after, but then coverage of her went quiet... because she'd moved away. It made so much sense now!

"I knew I recognised you," I said with disbelief, studying her face closely as I now knew who she was.

Her eyes still had a red hue surrounding her irises, matching the energy surrounding us as she flew us to, presumably, the hospital.

"I didn't intend to hide it," she explained guiltily. "I thought you'd figure it out. But then you didn't and it... it just never felt right to bring it up."

I thought back to the random hours she worked, the spontaneity of being called in for her shifts, her whole backstory for crying out loud... how stupid could I be?

"This... this is a conversation we should have," I said, nodding slowly, "but maybe not right now."

"Right, yeah." She nodded in agreement, jaw tensed as she stared ahead. "Just hang on."

–

After getting an x-ray at the hospital, the doctor told me I'd need to go into surgery so they could realign my knee – it wasn't anything concerning, but I wasn't exactly over the moon about it.

I returned to the hospital room to find Wanda had been waiting for me. I'd say I was surprised, but I was more grateful that she stayed. We hadn't had a moment to speak about her whole Avenger situation, and she was oddly quiet about the whole thing, so I decided to ease it into conversation whilst waiting for the doctors to return to prep me for surgery.

"You know, you didn't have to stay," I said to her, watching as she distracted herself with the stuff on the bedside table. "It's only a broken leg."

She stopped whatever she was doing and gave me a knowing look. "It's not only a broken leg. And I just thought you might like the company. Who else is going to make sure you're okay?"

I offered her a small smile. "Thank you. But the surgery is gonna take a while. I'll head home after and catch up with you then."

She seemed against the idea, but said nothing, before resuming whatever she was messing around with. The tissue box, I think.

"So... magic, huh?"

She swallowed visibly. "It's, er, not magic... at least, not exactly."

I hummed in acknowledgement, still adjusting to the fact that she had actual powers. It was amazing and unusual all at once.

"It's okay that you didn't tell me you know," I said gently, making her glance at me. "You apologised earlier. Back when we were–" I breathed out, still in mild disbelief, "–well, flying. You didn't need to. You don't have to be sorry about anything, Wanda."

She frowned. "But I lied to you."

Her Sokovian accent was more noticeable when she was upset, I noted. I wondered if she realised.

"You didn't lie, per say... more like bent the truth," I tried to make her feel better, stifling a laugh. "Either way, it's alright. Well, for me anyway. I don't know if you wanted to tell me or–"

"I did," she cut in with nod, eyes focused on me. "I wanted to."

I hoped she couldn't hear the way my heart rate picked up a little. "Okay, then I don't see a problem. You're still the same Wanda, just with a little something extra, right?"

Her shoulders relaxed and a small smile tugged at her lips. "Right."

I mirrored her expression, holding her gaze for a moment longer than necessary, before tearing away when I heard the doctor enter the room. After prepping me for surgery, I headed off into the operating room and made sure Wanda knew she didn't have to be there when I came back.

They put me under, so I wasn't awake until several hours later when I woke up to horribly bright, fluorescent hospital lighting and the accompanying nasty disinfectant smell filling the room. The first thing I noticed was the giant cast on my leg, followed by the sleeping brunette in the corner of the room that was Wanda. I would have questioned why she was there as my first thought, but I couldn't help but take notice of the lovely room I was in – for starters, it wasn't shared with other patients like I expected.

"Wanda," I called, my voice rough-sounding, but she didn't stir in the slightest.

I chewed on my lip as I found the remote that controlled my bed, using it so I could sit up. I was able to grab the water on my bedside table and take a few sips before calling for her again, sounding a lot better. To my relief, she began to wake up, eyes blinking open and looking around with confusion before realisation crossed her face and she settled on me.

"You're up!" she exclaimed, before a yawn escaped her lips.

"And you're here," I returned, hinting my confusion.

"I told you I was staying," she reminded me, before standing up and approaching my bedside. "Had to make sure you were okay. And obviously to help you home. By taxi, not flying, don't worry."

I smiled at her caring nature, expression softening at how cute she was.

"Also, before you ask," she added, "your hospital bills are taken care of. Hence the room."

I lost my smile, eyebrows raising. "Come again?"

She sat at the edge of my bed, getting comfortable as she looked out the window opposite us. "I didn't want you worrying about it, especially when none of this was your fault, so I called in a favour at the Avenger's compound. Tony owed me."

I almost forgot how to breathe as my eyes widened. "Tony Stark? The Tony Stark? He's paying for my hospital bills?"

She looked to me, a hint of panic in her eyes. "I hope that's okay. I mean, I knew you would say no, but I feel like I should've done something. You've done so much for me and it was only fair."

"I can't believe..." I trailed off, losing track of what I was going to say, still shocked. It made sense with her being an Avenger, but it was still hard to believe.

"You still with me?" she joked, her hand resting on mine.

I cleared my throat, ignoring the warmth from her skin touching mine. "Yeah, sorry. I just– wow. Still digesting is all."

"Don't worry too much about it," she said gently.

I nodded weakly, swallowing hard and avoiding her gaze.

"I should go get the doctor and let her know you're awake," she said, letting go of my hand. "You okay on your own for a minute?"

"Yeah, of course. Thanks."

After a chat with the doctor and an explanation of how everything would play out from here, I was getting ready to leave for home. I got changed out of the annoying hospital gown in the bathroom attached to my hospital room (another perk of Tony Stark paying for my bills – no shared toilet) and was in the middle of adjusting to my crutches in my room when there was a knock on the door.

Wanda and I paused as we looked up, and I was about to say for whoever it was to come in, but the person came in quickly and without waiting. To my bitterness, it was Teddy of all people.

"Oh my god, Y/N, there you are!" he exclaimed upon seeing me. "I got your message, both of them. I was so worried!"

In addition to the message I'd left him when breaking my leg, I also left him another before the surgery to see if he actually cared enough to check in. Clearly not.

I gripped my crutches to get out my frustration. "It took you long enough. I went into surgery five hours ago."

He scratched his head awkwardly. "I was at work."

I rolled my eyes, promising myself I wouldn't snap, but the annoyance of everything happening was building up and I couldn't help but blurt out, "I told you to mop up when you freakin' showered, Teddy!"

"I did!"

"No, you didn't!" I shouted, raising my voice. "If you did, I wouldn't be in this fucking cast!"'

He winced. "Are you, er, sure that it was the water that you slipped on?"

I clenched my jaw, knuckles turning white from how hard I was gripping my crutches. I didn't care that I was temporarily crippled, all I could see was red.

"Am I sure?" I repeated his question, tone laced with anger. "Am I sure?!"

I attempted to lunge forward, but Wanda seemed to know what I was thinking before I did it, holding me back suddenly.

"Y/N, just leave it," she mumbled, eyes meeting mine.

Something about the way she looked at me made my anger temporarily melt away, and I almost forgot why I was mad, until...

"Who are you?" Teddy asked with confusion.

Wanda and I looked to him, figuring he was just being his usual rude self, but he genuinely had no idea who she was as he studied her curiously.

She blinked with disbelief. "Wanda....?"

He waved his hand, motioning for her to say more.

Wanda raised a brow with offence. "Y/N's neighbour...?"

He pursed his lips, eyes squinted with thought.

Wanda almost scoffed. "Really? You got nothing?"

He chewed on his lip, genuinely stumped, and I couldn't help but groan with frustration, earning his attention.

"Of course you don't know who she is!" I glared at him. "You don't listen to a word I say! Not about this, not about mopping the floor–!"

"Y/N, just calm down!" he cut me off, only adding fuel to the fire.

"No," I said sternly, before nodding to the door behind him. "You can leave. You have no need to be here since we're not together anymore."

He raised his eyebrows with shock. "Seriously? You're breaking up with me? For what?"

I breathed out through my nose, genuinely stunned at how I managed to stay with him this long without either losing my mind or killing him. I could swear he wasn't this stupid when I met him.

His eyes fell to Wanda with distaste. "Is it because of her?"

"Did you actually manage to get stupider since this morning?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"Because I totally accepted when you said you were bisexual," he continued, "but I didn't think you'd actually leave me for a woman."

I pressed my lips together, looking to my shoes as I tried to talk myself out of not killing him there and then. The fact that he was blaming the breakup on anyone but himself was disappointing but not surprising.

"Can you leave now?" I finally spoke, looking up to him with expressionless eyes.

His smile of disbelief turned into a scoff as he headed for the door. "Whatever. Your roast lamb is shit anyway."

I scrunched my face together with annoyance, unable to stop myself from yelling, "No it isn't!" as he walked out the door.

Unexpectedly, I saw the familiar red wisps of energy by the door before it suddenly slammed shut, smacking Teddy in the butt and propelling him forward with a start. He turned around to look through the glass, expecting to blame someone, but Wanda and I were nowhere near the door, so he glared our way before storming off.

"Sorry," Wanda said, referring to the door, lowering her hand and red eyes returning to normal. "He's just a real dickhead."

I tried not to laugh as I nodded in agreement, already feeling better. "You're not wrong there..." I sighed, losing my smile as I gave her an apologetic glance. "I'm sorry for everything he said. Again."

Wanda rolled her eyes dismissively, shrugging her shoulders. "You should really stop apologising on his behalf. Especially since he's not your boyfriend anymore."

I relaxed my shoulders, leaning against the bed and looking to the floor. "Yeah, you're right... I just can't believe I put up with him this long."

Wanda didn't respond, but I heard her make a weird noise before she fake-coughed terribly, making me look up. Trying ever-so-hard to suppress a smile, she shook her head apologetically when she realised I noticed.

"Sorry, I– it's not funny," she attempted.

I smiled with amusement. "What?"

She licked her lips, before giving into her smile. "I just– I can't believe it either sometimes."

I breathed out with defeat, my smile turning into laughter alongside her. Eventually, she continued to help me with my crutches before I got the hang of it and the two of us began to leave the hospital. On the way out though, a random thought dawned on me and I stopped walking suddenly.

"What is it?" she asked worriedly.

I looked to her with curiosity. "That guy who stopped by your place a while ago. Your friend. Are you telling me that was–"

"Captain America?" she filled in with an amused smile. "Yeah."

"Woah." I was amazed, eyebrows raised as I let that sink in. I spoke to the Captain America and even implied he was a stalker. Woah.

"Come on, idiot," she laughed before leading me out the hospital, finally.

–

Breaking up with Teddy was long overdue, and whereas I thought I would feel bad for doing so, it was quite the opposite. I felt better, freer, unrestrained by the stupidity that was my ex. It was a few days after leaving the hospital when I found myself sitting on the couch with Wanda. She'd been helping me during my recovery, even though I insisted I was fine alone. She, of course, didn't listen though, and I was secretly glad because it meant I could spend more time with her.

"What about that fork? Can you move that?"

Wanda gave me a knowing look from the other end of the couch, amusement knitted in her smile. "Yes, Y/N."

To prove her point, her eyes glowed red and she flicked her hand, raising the fork on the dining table up in the air before setting it down.

I was amazed. "What about that cushion?"

She stifled a laugh before levitating the cushion between us and setting it down.

"And that book?"

"I have other powers, too, y'know," she pointed out, but levitated the book nonetheless.

I grinned. "Yeah, like flying."

She nodded in agreement. "Yeah, like that..."

And this.

"Woah!" I said with a start, eyebrows raised with surprise. "Did you just– what?!"

She laughed, the sound sending a swirl of butterflies in my stomach. Her eyes sparkled as she met my gaze, amused by my amazement.

"You can speak in my mind?" I asked in bewilderment.

"I can read minds, too," she continued.

"Wow." I breathed out, still not used to her having powers. Suddenly a thought came to mind and I glanced at her. "Have you, er, read my mind?"

"Never," she assured me, before adding with a head tilt, "at least not on purpose. Sometimes, if somebody's thoughts are too loud, I can't help but hear it."

I felt my face heating up as I avoided her eyes. "But my thoughts are quiet... right?"

Every potentially-embarrassing thought I'd ever had, including those I'd had of Wanda, came to mind and I suddenly grew nervous to her answer.

"Er, well, I mean..."

I looked to her when I heard her forming an answer, but the look on her face told me she had heard my thoughts at times and I ran a hand down my face with embarrassment.

"I promise it's never anything embarrassing or anything," she tried to make me feel better.

I groaned quietly, pinching the bridge of my nose.

"Hey, I promise," she said with reassurance, before I felt her rest a hand on mine and squeeze it gently.

"What was the last thing you heard?" I asked, trying to veil my curiosity with a shrug.

I felt her gaze on me and looked her way to see green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Mostly you cursing at your ex."

Cracking a smile, I nodded. "Okay, maybe that's fine then..."

Her laughter surrounded us again and she let go of my hand before pulling her legs up on the couch to get comfortable and face me. She watched me with an endearing smile, making me unusually nervous.

"So, what other things can you do with your powers?" I asked, partially curious and partially trying to distract from my nerves.

She studied her right hand, red energy wisps at the tip of her fingers. "I can... I can throw energy balls," she remembered, looking to me before smiling, "but I won't demonstrate that since I'm sure you love your curtains."

"That I do," I said in agreement, leaning on the back cushion with my elbow as I faced her better.

"I can also manipulate thoughts, but once again, I'm sure you won't want a demonstration." She chuckled as she saw my change of expression.

"Yeah, no thank you," I said jokingly.

She pressed her lips together, thinking of what else she could do, but her smile faded into a thin line as a dark thought seemed to cross her mind.

"My brother had powers, too," she said quietly. "Super speed."

Since finding out who she was, I tried to piece together Wanda's background without bringing it up to her for fear it would upset her. It made a lot more sense why she'd moved next door now that I knew who she was, but she hadn't once brought up her family again until, well, until now.

"Pietro," I said, hoping I'd got his name correct. "Right?"

She nodded, lowering her hand and looking to me. "Yeah, that's him... he also had powers. It was actually what got him killed." She barely flinched as she spoke. "He saved someone's life in the battle against Ultron."

I sensed her sadness when her gaze softened as she finished speaking, and my heart ached now that I knew the truth.

"You don't have to tell me, Wanda," I said gently, hoping she didn't feel obligated to.

"No, no...," she shook her head, "it's nice to finally be able to tell you the truth. The whole truth. Not some rendition of it."

I nodded, relaxing under her stare. I was glad, too, to know she trusted me with such sensitive information about her life. It made me feel important, kind of like confirmation that I meant as much to her as she did to me.

"Do you think you're gonna go back to the Avengers tower anytime soon?" I asked. "I know you mentioned living here was temporary, so..."

It was selfish of me to think, but I hoped the answer was no. She hadn't said, but I gathered she hadn't been fulfilling her role as an Avenger as much as she should have been, as she was still on a break from there since grieving for her brother. But she seemed better than she did when she first got here, and if that meant she was going to go back there... I hoped it didn't, selfishly enough. I know the world needed another hero, but, I mean, did they?

"Trying to get rid of me already?" she teased, quirking a brow, making me smile with embarrassment. She noticed and added, "I'm kidding, Y/N. But to answer your question, no, not yet. Maybe not ever. I thought I would be here to get away from them whilst I grieved, but I've come to like it here. It's become my new home. I can still help them and not stay there."

I tried to resist the urge to smile like a weirdo. "Oh, cool. Yeah, I get you."

Calm on the outside, but over the moon on the inside.

"Though I may have to reconsider if my neighbour keeps using me like a carnival attraction," she added playfully.

I laughed, putting my hair behind my ear as I shrugged. "I'm sorry, I can't help it. It's just so cool that you have powers!" She laughed quietly, making my smile widen. I continued without thinking, "Plus, your eyes go this pretty red colour whenever you use them and I just think that's pretty neat."

She rolled her eyes playfully, but I was surprised to see her cheeks turn the colour of said powers. God, she was stunning. I was sure I'd always known that, but maybe I'd never acknowledged the thought. Now though... she was adorable when she bit back a smile and her hazel eyes sparkled with distraction.

Suddenly remembering the beautiful girl before me had the ability to read minds, I cleared my throat and tried to debate whether or not that would be classed as a 'loud' thought. I'd liked to think it wasn't, but now I wasn't so sure... what if this was a loud thought? And she could actually hear everything I was saying about her in my head? Oh, no... I was definitely overthinking this. It was nothing to worry about.

"You okay over there? I can practically read your mind."

I looked up and saw she was teasing again, though now that I knew she had powers, those words carried a double meaning.

"Yeah, yeah, sure you can," I played along dismissively. "Nice try, Wanda."

She shrugged, laughter slipping from her lips. "Okay, whatever you say."

Nah, she was definitely playing me... right?

[ultimatetrashyfanfic]

Still loving Komahina and I also love hurt/comfort sickfics so this was pretty inevitable. Nagito is very good for sickfics. Anyway, I wanted to show these two trying to navigate a bad illness and all the frightening and sometimes embarrassing things that come with that. Post-hope arc again. With fluff because I can’t NOT do fluff. I hope you enjoy it - Circle

Also on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34280557

Warning: descriptions of vomiting (I didn’t describe the puke itself or anything, don’t worry, I’m emetophobic myself) and high fevers/vague descriptions of medical procedures.

Hajime noticed at the beach this time - and just like every time, he kicked himself for not noticing before he’d made Nagito leave the cabin. He thought back to when Nagito stumbled as they walked across the island, about how he’d chased every meagre bite of breakfast with a gulp of water like it was difficult to get down. Hajime hadn’t been vigilant enough, and now they were sitting together on the sand and Nagito was leaning far too heavily against his shoulder.

“Nagito?” Hajime said cautiously. When Nagito turned his head, Hajime hastily put a hand to his forehead, managing to catch it before Nagito veered away. “I knew it. You’re burning up.”

Some old routine. Nagito would deflect, then grow self-deprecating; Hajime would shut that down, then begrudgingly carry Nagito back to their cabin. They’d done this dance together over and over, whenever Nagito’s weakened state and illness made something like a common cold seem as serious as smallpox.

It didn’t seem so bad for the next couple of days. Nagito had a fever, but it was a low one, and he ate when Hajime asked and seemed alert and talkative. Hajime felt comfortable leaving him in the care of their friends while he went to Mikan for medicine and advice - though his friends proved to need supervision of their own. He returned to his cabin just as Sonia and Gundham were leaving, reassured when Sonia reported that Nagito wasn’t any worse. At the time, he didn’t notice the splashes of brown paint on Gundham’s bandages or Sonia’s dress.

Hajime stopped short when he stepped over the threshold. There was a gigantic swirly witchy symbol covering almost the whole wall above the bed, the heavy smell of paint in the air. Nagito was peeping over the top of the bedsheets, eyes sparkling.

“What the hell is that?” Hajime couldn’t even sound angry. He was just bloody tired. Why were the Ultimates so dramatic?

“Sonia and Gundham did a ritual for my good health,” Nagito explained. His lip twitched and Hajime knew he was fighting a smile. “I was so honoured to have two Ultimates working to help me that I thought it’d be unspeakably ungrateful to protest.”

“Oh, shut up, Nagito! I can see you just think it’s funny,” Hajime snapped. Nagito snorted and disappeared under the sheets, spluttering.

Hajime sighed and took another look at the giant eyesore on his wall. At least it was painted fairly neatly - and he knew Gundham and Sonia’s hearts were in the right places even if this particular stunt was irritating. He supposed they were trying to help in a weird way. Sonia went along with anything Gundham said, and Hajime didn’t expect Gundham to know you shouldn’t paint giant symbols on other people’s walls without permission. Gundham navigated social interactions like he was going into battle; Hajime doubted he would ask permission for something he clearly saw as a good deed.

“Doesn’t it make your boring plain wall more interesting?” Nagito piped up.

“Don’t push your luck, Nagito.”

“Right. Who knows what pushing my luck will do.”

Later on, Hajime would worry that he’d jinxed them somehow, that whatever strange force was behind Nagito’s Ultimate Luck was malevolent and wanted to teach them a lesson for mocking it - because that night brought disaster. Nagito was usually exceptionally clingy when they were in bed, often to the point where Hajime got so warm he had to pry him off, but now he curled up right on the very edge of the mattress, well away from Hajime. Hajime knew he was awake from his strangely measured breaths and his unusual stillness; Nagito was a restless sleeper. He frequently kicked Hajime in the night and rolled right on top of him and yanked the blankets away. Sometimes Hajime felt like he’d get more sleep on a busy runway as airplanes roared overhead.

Hajime poked Nagito in the back, careful not to tip him right off the bed. “Hey. What’s up?”

He didn’t get a response. Hajime sighed. “Do you think I’m stupid? I know you’re not asleep. You never sleep like that. So what’s going on?”

He wound his arms around Nagito’s waist and tried to pull him closer to get a better look at him, but Nagito winced and slapped his hands away with surprising force. “Don’t,” he gasped, curling up even tighter. “Don’t press…”

“What? Is it your stomach?” This was new. Nagito had been off his food lately, but then he frequently found it difficult to eat. “Do you feel nauseous?”

Silence. Getting information from Nagito was like getting blood from a stone sometimes. Hajime felt Nagito’s forehead in the gloom. His fever had definitely gone up and his skin was clammy. Hajime let his fingers trail down Nagito’s cheeks to his jawline and felt along his neck - the lymph nodes were so swollen they felt like two throbbing ping pong balls.

“Fuck,” Hajime muttered. “I thought we might get through this one without anything too bad.”

He was expecting some strange rambling about how this bad luck would inspire them to hope for good things in the future, but Nagito still didn’t speak. He rolled over and shuffled across the bed, tucking his burning head right under Hajime’s chin. It worried Hajime more than any words could; Nagito didn’t actively seek out comfort unless he was feeling really terrible.

“Hey,” Hajime mumbled, having to spit out a mouthful of Nagito’s unruly curls. “Ugh, your hair keeps getting in my mouth. Look, I know you’re sick and I’m sure it must feel crappy, but you’ll be okay. You’ll probably feel better by tomorrow morning. Right?” Hajime knew he sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well as Nagito.

More silence. Hajime could feel Nagito shivering, and wound his arms around him quickly. He usually teased Nagito for being so chilly all the time, needing his jacket whenever the sun dipped behind the clouds and getting goose pimples in the air conditioned cabins, but it didn’t seem remotely funny anymore. Nagito trembled like he was buried up to his neck in snow, but he certainly didn’t feel cold.

“You’re burning up. Fuck, I think I need to get Mikan,” Hajime said. He felt a hand shoot out and grab hold of his t-shirt, clinging for dear life. Hajime knew he could easily pry Nagito off, but he couldn’t bring himself to try at a time like this. “Okay, don’t freak out. I’ll stay. But I’m going if you get any worse.”

It was after midnight when the vomiting started. They’d already been in the bathroom since eleven, huddled together on the floor by the toilet, sharing a blanket. Nagito kept sleepily begging Hajime to go back to bed and leave him there, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Shut up,” he mumbled. “Don’t act like you wouldn’t be here with me if our roles were reversed.”

“That’s different. You’re you and I’m me,” Nagito whispered. He let his burning head rest against Hajime’s shoulder despite his pleading.

“It shouldn’t be different though. It’s not different, not to me. You’re sick and I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway if I knew you were in here on your own feeling miserable.”

“You have such a kind heart, Hajime. To think you could care so much about someone as worthless as I am.”

“Nagito. If you don’t stop that I’m going to shove your head down the toilet and flush, no matter how sick you are,” Hajime threatened. “You’re not worthless. For the millionth time.”

“You’d think you’d have got tired of saying that by now,” Nagito said.

“I have. Very fucking tired. But I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Now shut up and try to get some rest. And let me know when you need to throw up. You’re in a position right now that would have you puking down my front and it’s making me nervous.”

Thankfully, Nagito was exceptionally neat about it when he did have to lean over the toilet to vomit. Hajime hooked his white curls back behind his ears and tried not to groan too much. It was unpleasant, obviously, but it was clear Nagito was the one suffering the most right now. He didn’t need Hajime moaning in his ear for him to hurry up - and as the minutes ticked by Hajime found his embarrassment and mild disgust morphing into anxiety. He knew Nagito hadn’t had much to eat these past few days, but the retching and heaving went on well after Nagito had nothing left to bring up. Nagito’s cheeks grew flushed and blotchy, and it wasn’t long before Hajime was the only thing holding him up over the loo, his arms wound around Nagito’s chest. He could feel Nagito’s heart pounding hard against his arms, on and on.

“Come on,” Hajime said eventually. “I’ll get you a bucket or something. You’re not really throwing anything up now anyway. You need to lie down.”

Nagito didn’t respond. He was breathing heavily, his face dripping with sweat. He was gripping the porcelain so hard his knuckles bleached white. Hajime had to pry off his fingers one by one.

“Come on,” he repeated. “I’ll get you something to wipe your face. I know you feel miserable but you can’t stay tethered to the toilet until you die.” He scooped Nagito up into his arms, cradling him as carefully as a newborn. Nagito felt frighteningly hot and damp.

Shaky arms wound around Hajime’s neck and a weak, hoarse voice whispered into his ear. “Death would be welcome at this point…”

“Stop it,” Hajime said firmly. “Don’t go all melodramatic on me. You sound like Gundham.” He carried Nagito to the bed and ran a cloth under the tap. “Here. Shall I do it for you? Then you don’t have to sit up.”

Nagito didn’t react, staring up at the ceiling. He seemed to decide to ignore Hajime at will, and it annoyed him almost as much as Nagito’s self-deprecation.

“Fine, don’t talk to me,” Hajime snapped. “I’ll scrub your face like a baby if you’re going to act like one.” Despite his tone, Hajime ran the damp cloth over Nagito’s skin with unbelievable care and tenderness, going carefully around his eyes and mouth.

Nagito’s eyes flickered over to him. “Well, Nurse Hinata, what’s your diagnosis? Is it curtains for me now? Is this world finally finished with me?”

“No! God, I’ve never known anybody so dramatic,” Hajime said angrily. “It’s just a little stomach flu or something like that. Don’t be so stupid.” He was almost shouting now. It was far easier to get angry than to admit to Nagito that he was scared too, that the knot of panic in his chest was getting tighter by the minute.

Nagito stared at him pityingly. Hajime wanted to slap him and clasp him close all at once.

“I’m going to get Mikan.” He turned to leave, but felt a clammy hand grasp his wrist and hold it with a surprisingly firm, desperate strength. Hajime turned back. “Nagito..?”

Nagito had his head bent, his lips pressed together. He didn’t speak, but he clung to Hajime’s wrist so tightly his fingernails dug in.

“But we need help. I’ll be as fast as I can, I promise. I’ll run all the way,” Hajime tried.

The hand squeezed even tighter.

“Oh fucking hell,” Hajime groaned. “Okay, I won’t leave. But we still need help, so you need to let me go for a second, okay? I promise I won’t go past the door to the cabin.”

A pause. Then Nagito slowly unclamped his fingers and let Hajime break free. He immediately flew to the cabin door, opened it wide and took a deep, long breath inwards. “HEY!” he bellowed, as loud as he could possibly manage. His voice boomed through the still night air. “WE NEED HELP! COME OUT AND HELP US!”

He yelled the same simple lines over and over until a door opened. He’d rather hoped for somebody sensible like Twogami or Mahiru; he ended up with Kazuichi. It made sense really - the sensible people would be asleep at three in the morning, and Kazuichi’s cabin was directly across from Hajime’s.

“What the hell are you screaming about, Hajime?” Kazuichi whined, scrubbing his eyes. His hands were covered with oil and he smeared it across his cheeks. It looked like he was wearing bad war paint. He’d doubtless been hunched over some project he was working on. It usually annoyed Hajime to see his friend neglecting vital things like sleep for his machines, but he was grateful for Souda’s insomnia tonight.

“Kazuichi, come over here, I need your help. Nagito is sick. Like, really sick. I need you to go get Mikan. Please.”

“What? Why can’t you do it?” Kazuichi said indignantly.

“I just… I don’t want to leave him alone, okay?!” Hajime muttered, flustered.

“Awww, Hajime! You loooove him,” Kazuichi cried, spluttering with laughter.

Hajime heard Nagito snort behind him too. He must’ve heard. He felt his cheeks flush crimson. “Kazuichi, will you just fucking go before I throttle you!”

“Stop yelling at me, I’m doing you a favour!” Kazuichi cried, looking wounded - but he ran off in the direction of Mikan’s cabin obediently.

None of them slept much that night. Mikan worked diligently, trying antibiotics and saline drips and ice packs, but she couldn’t get Nagito’s fever down, getting more and more tearfully apologetic as if she was personally blighting him herself. “His fever is dangerously high. We have to find a way of lowering it,” she muttered over and over like a mantra, shaking her head.

Anti-nausea drugs stopped the persistent stomach pains, but Nagito was clearly far from comfortable. He stopped smirking and teasing Hajime, stopped laughing at Kazuichi’s silly jokes. He stopped putting himself down and babbling about how the four Ultimates were so full of kindness and hope to be fussing so much over someone like him. He just stared vacantly up at the ceiling, his eyes foggy and over-bright, his cheeks flushed.

They each toiled in their own way until dawn, when they finally collapsed with exhaustion, squashing up together on Hajime’s bed. They lay there undisturbed until Twogami came looking for them, concerned by the absences at breakfast. He shook Hajime awake, wanting to know why there were four people curled around each other like puppies on his bed, but all Hajime could focus on was Nagito. His head was resting on Hajime’s chest, burning hot through his shirt. The fever was still there. He’d woken up but the nightmare was still going.

It was a mercy that Twogami found them. He sent Mikan off to sleep in her own cabin and made Hajime give a detailed account of the previous night (he let Kazuichi remain asleep at the foot of the bed. Twogami knew he wouldn’t sleep again if he was disturbed, and he wasn’t in the way).

“If he gets any worse, we might have to contact Future Foundation,” Twogami said thoughtfully. “They’ll have more complex medical equipment.”

“We don’t need them,” Hajime snapped. “Especially Makoto.”

He’d thought Kazuichi was still sleeping, but he snorted. “Because Nagito gushes over Makoto. That’s why you don’t like him,” he mumbled sleepily, sitting up.

“Shut up, you hypocrite. Why didn’t you like Gundham before?” Hajime argued.

“I don’t know why you get so fussed, Makoto looks a lot like you.”

“He doesn’t!”

Twogami sighed and crossed his arms like an exasperated parent. “If you two want to bicker you can go do it outside. Nagito needs peace and quiet.” He sounded like a parent too, and the other men quietened immediately and focused on Nagito again.

Nagito didn’t seem to wake up properly. He could open his eyes (though this looked like it was taking an extreme amount of effort) but he didn’t speak or even react very much when somebody spoke to him. He barely blinked when Hajime tried to make him sip water or Kazuichi tapped on his cheek and called his name. Mikan was forced to give him fluids intravenously. When the afternoon brought no improvements, Hajime let Twogami contact Future Foundation for better medicine.

Hajime spent another anxious, sleepless night desperately holding Nagito - though he didn’t feel like Nagito. He hadn’t spoken a single word all day, and though Hajime was trying to be optimistic, he could feel panic pooling in his stomach like oil. Would the medicine get here in time? Would it even work? Nagito was so sick, as sick as he’d been with that awful Despair Disease. Hajime remembered how he’d left Nagito alone then; he wouldn’t make that mistake this time. He’d be there for Nagito - if he was even aware of Hajime at this point. It seemed less and less likely. He wasn’t even opening his eyes now. All Hajime could do was hold him, hold onto this lifeless, unresponsive husk that sucked in shallow breaths far too fast. He wondered if the real Nagito was somewhere deep inside, floating aimlessly, or if the fever had fried his brain completely and obliterated the strange, smart, fascinating person Hajime knew. No, surely he was being stupid. It couldn’t be that bad, right? Unless Mikan and Twogami were just being tactful. Maybe they both expected Nagito to perish and just didn’t want to snuff out Hajime’s hope. He clutched the burning body tighter.

“Don’t you dare die,” he whispered fiercely, cupping Nagito’s cheeks. “I mean it. Not after everything that’s happened. You can’t just give up now. You woke up once before. It took you the longest of everyone, but you still came back. Do it again, because I’ll lose my fucking mind if anyone else dies. You’d better fight this.” His eyes burned. Several tiny droplets of water fell onto Nagito’s face.

Hajime waited. He silently begged Nagito to open his eyes, whisper something coherent, clutch his hand… but nothing happened. Hajime held him all night, terrified of drifting off to sleep in case he woke up and found Nagito stone cold and white and still. He’d found Nagito dead once. Bloody and bound, his eyes bulging with pain… No. It wasn’t real, even if it felt real. It wasn’t real it wasn’t real it wasn’t real.

Morning brought the stronger medicine from the Future Foundation. Twogami explained what it was and how it worked, but Hajime was so fuzzy-headed with lack of sleep and stress that he didn’t take any of it in.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Twogami said doubtfully. “Mikan set up the IV so you don’t have to worry about anything. You could leave one of us here, go get some rest.” He tried for ten minutes to convince him, but Hajime shook his head.

“I can’t leave him. Not until he’s better.”

“You’re so stubborn. At this rate we’ll need to start nursing you along with him,” Twogami muttered, but he left them alone. Mikan left as soon as she could too, apologising even more than usual. Maybe Hajime had been glaring at her? It wasn’t her fault, he just had a splitting headache, but he obviously couldn’t leave to go apologise. Not now.

Time had started to blur. Minutes crawled by like days, but then suddenly an entire hour could disappear in a second. Hajime stayed sitting by Nagito’s side, periodically holding his hand, begging him to squeeze his back. Nagito lay still, but his breathing had evened out considerably since he’d been given this new medication. Hajime tried tickling at his cheeks and smoothing back his hair and Nagito twitched and sighed - tiny reactions, but they were reactions. Hajime hardly dared let himself hope and he definitely didn’t dare let himself sleep, though he was so tired now he had shooting pains behind his eyes.

Later - much later - Kazuichi came back, bringing Hajime toast and coffee. He looked startled by the state he was in. “Good God, Hajime, you look worse than Nagito!”

“Thanks a bunch,” Hajime grumbled. He didn’t touch the toast but took a grateful gulp of coffee.

“Seriously, bro, when did you last sleep? Or eat? Or… shower?” Kazuichi asked, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed.

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Have you seriously not slept since he got sick?”

“How can I?” Hajime snapped. “Will you please stop bleating obvious questions at me, Kazuichi. Yes, I’m fucking tired and hungry and I look like shit right now, I know. But I’m trying to make sure my boyfriend doesn’t die right in front of me, so forgive me if I can’t give much of a fuck about anything else! I don’t have the energy to deal with you right now. So can you please just shut up or fuck off!” He was practically screaming by the end of it. Part of him really wanted Kazuichi to yell back, start a real fight; he was so tired and so frustrated and it was so easy to take it out on Kazuichi.

But Souda didn’t argue. He didn’t speak, but his eyes filled up and he ducked his head to hide his quivering lips. Hajime felt a sudden wave of shame wash over his head. He didn’t want to make Kazuichi cry (even if that was pretty easy to do).

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, putting his head in his hands. “Yes, I’m tired. Tired and miserable. It’s not your fault.”

“I know you’re tired. I thought I could stay here. Keep watch over Nagito for a bit. You can sleep next to him,” Kazuichi said, his voice cracking.

Hajime felt worse than ever. “Shit. I’m sorry.” He grabbed Kazuichi and pulled him into a clumsy hug. “You’re a good friend. Better than me.”

“I’m your best friend, right?” Kazuichi asked hopefully. “You’re not just being nice? Am I actually just annoying?”

“You are annoying. But you’re still my best friend.”

Kazuichi grinned. “Okay. And you’ll get some rest now? I think you really need it, Hajime. You’re so grouchy when you’re tired.”

Hajime rather wanted to grumble about that comment, but he didn’t want to prove Souda’s point. “You’ll wake me up if anything changes with Nagito? Even something tiny. Even if you’re not sure it’s a change, can you wake me up to check?”

“Yes. God, you’re worse than Peko with Fuyuhiko. Do you really love him, Hajime?” Kazuichi asked.

“Look, we’re not at a pre-teen sleepover, Kazuichi. I don’t want to sit here with you and gossip about boys,” Hajime said, shuffling close to Nagito. He wasn’t sure - maybe it was wishful thinking - but he thought Nagito’s body was slightly cooler.

“See what I mean. Grumpy,” Kazuichi mumbled.

Hajime didn’t bother to reply this time. He didn’t think he’d manage to get a wink of sleep with all the stress and worry, but he was out like a light almost immediately, so exhausted he didn’t even dream. He wasn’t sure how long Kazuichi kept vigil at their bedside (several hours, he guessed. Kazuichi was a good friend) but he was gone when Hajime opened his eyes. The silvery dawn light was filtering in through the windows, bathing their furniture in a soft glow. Something was burrowing into Hajime’s chest like a small animal.

“Nagito..?” Hajime mumbled, still half-asleep.

“Of course. Who else do you invite into bed, Hajime?”

“Nobody, dumbass.” Then it clicked and Hajime was instantly awake, peering through the dim light. Nagito truly was awake, looking very pale and sleepy and weak, but his eyes were open. Hajime clutched onto him at once, holding him as tight as he dared. Nagito felt as fragile as glass, like he might shatter altogether if Hajime squeezed too hard.

“Careful, you’ll yank my IV out,” Nagito mumbled, but he buried his face into Hajime’s shoulder too. His skin was still clammy, still warm, but not that terrifying burning anymore. Nagito felt clammy all over. “You should wait till I’ve showered before we do all the tearful reunions.”

“Shut up. I need a shower too,” Hajime said hoarsely. He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “Fuck, it’s good to see you awake and talking.”

“How long was I out?”

“Several days. How much do you remember?”

Nagito paused. “I remember the night Mikan and Kazuichi came. It gets a bit muddled after that. Someone tried to make me drink quite a few times. Nothing much then. Except…”

“Except?”

“Perhaps I was dreaming. I couldn’t imagine somebody caring so much for someone like-”

“Oh Christ, I haven’t missed that,” Hajime groaned. “Just tell me what you remember!”

“You. Your voice, telling me not to die. Though it sounded more like you were threatening me not to die. And something dripping on me.”

Hajime felt his face flushing. It seemed like years ago that he’d hovered over Nagito and frantically begged him to keep fighting. “Trust you to remember something embarrassing like that.”

“Were you truly crying?”

“What else would I be doing? Drooling on you?”

“You hardly ever cry.”

“I’ve never seen you that sick before,” Hajime admitted. He held Nagito in the hug so he couldn’t see his face. It was somehow easier to blurt it all out in the gloomy morning half-light. “It was… fucking horrible. I didn’t dare sleep. I haven’t felt scared like that since the simulation. I thought I was going to lose you… just like Chiaki.”

There was a long, pregnant pause. Hajime could feel Nagito’s breath tickling against his neck.

“We smell awful,” Nagito finally whispered.

Hajime started spluttering with laughter. “For God’s sake! Can’t you ever be serious?”

“You know I don’t have any idea how to comfort people. But… you shouldn’t worry so much when I get sick. Not just because I’m me, but because my luck usually comes through for me eventually. It hasn’t let me die yet. Well, except in the simulation.”

“Shut up. Don’t talk about that,” Hajime said quickly. “Izuru has luck too. So that should mean I’m stuck with you forever.”

He rather expected Nagito to shoot back with some sort of self-deprecating response like “poor you” but Nagito was silent for a while. He was practically in Hajime’s lap now, his skinny legs wound around Hajime’s waist.

“Thank you.”

“Hm?” The words were so quiet Hajime barely heard.

“Thank you for taking care of me. Nobody has ever done that before,” Nagito said, his voice as light and delicate as the dawn. He still found it so hard to accept things like this. He’d spent so many years building walls around him and then Hajime had come along and blasted through them in an instant. Nagito felt raw and vulnerable and exposed - but there was a warm feeling in his stomach too, new and unfamiliar.

“I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” Hajime promised.

“You’ll probably have to. My immune system is awful.”

“Then I will. Needing things isn’t bad, Nagito. You’re not meant to do things all alone.”

“The thing we need right now is a wash.”

“Yes. We’d better get that over with first,” Hajime agreed - but despite their words they both remained in their embrace, clinging to each other with desperate strength, long after that sun had risen properly.

[fandoms-are-insane]

“Take you to Paris”

Shigaraki Tomura x reader (angst-to-fluff-to-smut)

Word count: 2813

Some hurt comfort smut because I want to hug Shiggy rn

It all started with Ratatouille.

Tonight wasn’t any different from usual. Friday is date night, a tradition Shigaraki and I have managed to uphold ever since we started dating four months ago. It’s not always easy but we manage, despite his hectic lifestyle.

Going out, having to deal with people, has never been either of our strong suits. Because of that it usually ends up with him stealing us buying a random game and trying to speed run it, or renting a movie. 

Hence how we got to Ratatouille.

His arm is draped over my shoulder and I’m cuddled into his side. His hand absentmindedly draws patterns onto my shoulder, artists gloves allowing him to move this freely.

The Eiffel Tower comes on screen and I can’t help but let out a tiny gasp, “I wish I could go to Paris one day.” I said it more to myself than anything, just marveling at the beautiful animation, but suddenly the hand on my shoulder freezes and I feel him stiffen up against me.

I look up at him questioningly, “Baby are you oka-“

My question dies in my throat when I see his face, well, more like the face. It’s a shield, formed by years of ignored hurt. It's a shield that he puts on around others, but usually never me, at least for a long time he hasn’t now. Though his eyes are still firmly trained on the tv,  they’re unfocused, I can tell his mind is somewhere else, somewhere dark.

“Shiggy?” I question as I slip out of his grip to turn the movie of. As soon as my warmth leaves his side he shrinks in on himself, eyes now dropping to the floor, hand flying up to his neck.

I quickly make my way over to him, snatching his wrist and pulling it away from his neck, he flinches at my touch and pulls his wrist out of my grip like I’ve burned him. I try to reach out again, lift his face to look at me but he cowers away from my touch again. So instead, I kneel down in front of him, putting myself right in his line of vision to try and meet his gaze. It’s only now I see that they’re glossed over, filled with tears that want to spill but are being held back.

“I can’t take you to Paris-“ he mumbles it quietly, so quietly I assume I must’ve heard him wrong. I place my hand on his cheek and try once more, “What baby?”

“I can’t. Take you. To fucking Paris!” He slaps my hand away from his face and I flinch at his unusually harsh tone.

As soon as his own reaction registers to him his eyes widen in horror. He stands up and walks all the way to the other side of the room, trying to put as much distance between us as possible.

“Shiggy I don’t get what yo-“

“You want to go to Paris and I can’t take you,” he curtly states, like that is supposed to explain it all. Instead, he only manages to confuse me even more, “I wasn’t actually serious.”

“That’s not the point, don’t you get it?! Look at me Y/N!” He gestures wildly to himself, “I’m a villain, I can’t take you to the movies, we can’t go shopping, hell, you can’t even have pictures with me on your phone! So I’ll never be able to take you to fucking Paris!”

“Baby you know I don’t care about that, I know who you are and I love every part of you, no matter what.”

“Don’t say that so carelessly! I know you don’t mean it! I know that you’ll eventually realize how big of a mistake you’re making and leave! And if you don’t then you’re a fucking idiot,” he’s pretty much shouting at this point, words laced with venom making my chest tighten, “I have done so many bad things, that’s why here, inside these four walls, will always be the only place I can be with you, don’t you get that?” His words hurt but I ignore the dull sting they leave.

“I might be an idiot,” I say softly, crossing the distance between us in a few swift strides. “But,” I continue as I grab his hands and hold his gaze in mine, “I’m not leaving you. Ever. And I’m not ignoring the things you’ve done either. I know what they are but I love you despite that. You, Tomura Shigaraki, are the love of my life and the thought of having to spend a day on this earth without you makes me sick. No matter what, I will love you with every fiber of my being until the day I die.”

My words finally get through to him and he crumbles, tears flowing freely as he quite literally falls into my arms. Soft mumbles of ‘why?’, muffled by my shirt, fill my ears as I stroke through his hair, each of them breaking my heart.

After a couple of minutes pass, I pull his face up from my shoulder so I can rest my forehead against his, “I love you,” I whisper once more, just for him, and lean forwards capturing his lips in a soft kiss. A sob wrecks through his body, he continues to cry softly as my tongue licks at his lips, tasting salty from his tears, but he nonetheless still parts them to grant me access.

After a while his hands find purchase on my hips as he tries to pull me impossibly closer, as if he let go I might disappear. 

“I love you,” I murmur against his lips again before I move on to kiss his cheek, “I love your laugh,” I kiss his ear, “I love your shouts when you lose a game,” I kiss his jawline “I love our indoor date nights.”

I travel lower until my lips are pressed against his neck where tiny scars litter his skin, “I love your scars too,” he lets out a whimper as I softly place my lips on the skin there, “they don’t define you, but they’re a part of who you are so I love them just the same.”

I lean back and bring one of his hands up to my lips, “I love the way your hand feels in mine,” I take my time to kiss all of his fingertips before pressing a kiss to his palm, “I love how it feels when you let your fingers dance along my skin,” another whimper, “and I will not stop loving these hands because they can do bad stuff.”

“I will not stop loving you,” his tears have stopped flowing but his lips are still trembling so I put a tiny peck on them, “ever.”

“I love you too,” it's silent for a few moments before he hesitantly continues, “please let me make love to you.”

His words catch me by surprise and I feel my face heat up.

It’s not like we haven’t had sex before, we have, but ‘Making love’ would never be a good way to describe it. It’s always rough and fast with Shigaraki, gentleness not of concern. 

“Okay.”

His lips are on mine again in an instant, slow and passionate in their movements. The pace is bittersweet and leaves me lightheaded.

He walks me backwards until the back of my knees hit the bed and I softly let myself fall down, Shigaraki following my movements not wanting the kiss to be broken for even a second.

My hands tangle in his hair as his find their way under my shirt and explore my soft skin, the difference between the smooth silk of the gloves and his calloused hands leaving goosebumps in their wake. My shirt and bra are soon to be discarded and his hands eagerly continue their exploration.

He softly cups my breasts and toys with my nipples, all the while not breaking our kiss, and I can feel heat start to pool between my legs.

I pull at his shirt and he helps me take it off, “See, now it’s fair,” I giggle against his lips, I feel them curl up into a smile before he finally breaks the kiss, smiling down at me for a second before greedily attaching his mouth to one of my nipples while his hand continues to toy with the other.

His hips are already slightly rutting against my thigh, he’s rock hard, more slick pools in my panties and I can’t take it anymore, I need him even closer and I need that now. 

“Tomu, stop,” I call out to him, he immediately lets go of me, eyes frantic in fear of having done something wrong, “lie down for me baby.”

He gives me an unsure look but nevertheless follows my request.

I situate myself between his legs and slowly slide his pants down, I leave small kisses and nips along his leg as I do so, when those are removed, I follow the same process as I make my way up again. A large spot of precum is already staining his boxers, “let me take care of you m’kay?” I say as I pull the waistband of his boxers down, he hisses as the cold air from the room hits his sensitive member, head red and already coated in precum.

I place a kiss to his tip, followed by a small lick that makes him groan. The bitter taste of his precum making me let out a low hum as well.

Shigaraki holds my hair back for me as I take his head into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it and savoring the flavor some more before I slowly start bobbing my head up and down his length. I find a steady rhythm, taking him as deep as I can while pumping what doesn’t fit. 

Shigaraki is already a whimpering mess above me, the slow pace such a huge contrast to how it usually is that it makes his heart flutter. He softly pulls my hair, guiding me up and down his shaft at a slightly faster pace. I gag a few times but also fall into the rhythm after a while. His moans making my core ache for some relief.

I snake my hand down my body and into my, now soaked, panties. I rub slow circles along my clit causing me to moan around his shaft. Which in turn makes him let out a guttural groan. 

He pulls me off and I whine at the interruption, “No matter how amazing this is, it’s not what I want right now. I need to be inside you baby, gonna fill you up nice and good. Can I do that love?” His vermilion eyes bore into mine with an indescribable earnest, his pupils blown wide with desire, I whimper; “please.”

Shigaraki swiftly flips us over, pinning me below him. His lips find mine again in a sweet embrace but he pulls away before we can get sucked up into another heated kiss. He’s still close enough that I can taste his breath, “I’m going to make you feel so good baby,” with a huff he pulls up my skirt and rips my panties off. 

I let out a yelp in surprise which quickly turns into a drawn-out moan when he plunges his index finger into my tight heat. “Such pretty sounds,” he mumbles against the skin of my neck before leaving a dark bruise there as his thumb start to circle my clit, ripping even more sounds from my throat. Soon after, a second and third finger are added, the long slender digits turn my brain to putty.

The coil in my stomach pulls impossible tighter as I near my orgasm, Shigaraki can feel it too by the way I’m clenching down on him, “Go ahead love, let go. Fuck-  you have no idea how beautiful you look right now.”

His husky voice finally sends me over the edge, the knot in my stomach snaps, I let out a high-pitched cry as Shiggy guides me through my orgasm. I don’t get long to catch my breath though, not even a moment later he’s already pressing another kiss to my lips.

“Ready baby?” he asks while lining himself up with my entrance, I nod and he slowly pushes himself inside. Once fully inside he gives me a moment to adjust, no matter how much he stretches me or how often we have sex, it always causes a dull ache in the beginning.

“You can move Tomu, please move,” Shigaraki doesn’t need to be told twice.

He pulls out almost completely before slamming all the way back inside, and again, and again, and again, until he eventually falls into a steady pace. The pace is slow, but that doesn’t matter, not when his tip is nudging my cervix with every thrust and he’s staring at me like that. His eyes stare into mine with so much love and adoration that I completely lose myself in them.

The sound of skin slapping skin fills the room as a thin layer of sweat starts to form on both of our bodies. “Tomura!” I shout as he hits that spot inside of me that has me seeing stars. He smirks, angling his hips in order to keep hitting it, succeeding even further in turning me into a moaning mess.

It doesn't take too long for the knot in my stomach to tighten again, I pull his head down for a deep kiss and he swallows up my moans as it snaps for the second time tonight. My orgasm brings him closer to his own, he fastens his pace and pushes my legs up until my knees are to my chest, allowing him to hit even deeper.

“Fuck Y/N, ngh, I’m close, I-I’m close,” he says with a strained voice, grip in my thighs turning bruising as he continues to piston into me. ”Don’t pull out,” my own voice surprises me and it startles him as well, he looks at me with wide eyes, hips faltering for a second before continuing his brutal pace, “a-are you sure? You’re not on-”

“I know,” I cup his face and smile up at him, “I’m sure. I love you so much Tomura.”

“Shit,” is head drops to the crook of my neck, his thrusts growing sloppy until he stills inside of me, hot white ropes of cum coating my insides and shooting directly into my womb.

We stay like that for a moment, both catching our breath before Shigaraki finally sits up. I whine, wanting to keep him close, but my body is too worn out to make any useful protest. My eyes follow his figure across the room and into the bathroom, where he soon merges from again with a damp cloth. He cleans me up before discarding the cloth onto the floor and slipping under the covers with me, the rest can be worried about later.

He pulls me close against his chest and nuzzles his nose into my hair, I let out a happy sigh and melt into the embrace. We rest like that in a comfortable silence and I can feel my eyes start to droop as his steady breathing lulls me to sleep, until: “We’re leaving.”

“Hmm, Shig, what?” I try to move back to look up at him but his arms keep me pinned firmly in place.

“I said we’re leaving,” he takes a sharp inhale before he continues, “I still don’t know what kind of mistake the universe made that made you end up with someone like me-” I try to interrupt him but he pulls me closer to him and sighs, “Let me finish please.”

I nod and he continues, “As I was saying, I have no clue how it happened, but it’s the best thing that ever happened to me. You, Y/N, are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I fell madly in love with you and miraculously you felt the same. I didn't want to let myself believe it at first,  I couldn't, not when at any moment you could become aware of the mistake you were making and leave, taking my heart with you in the process. But now I know that you plan on staying, I’m never giving you that chance again. I want to stay with you forever, I-I wanna have a family with you, love,” his hand gently strokes over my stomach, “but I can’t do that. Not yet at least, not while we’re still here.”

I try once more to look up at him and this time he lets me, his eyes are teary but he has the happiest smile on his face that I’ve ever seen, he pushes his forehead against mine.

“Let me take you to Paris.”

[darthwheezely]

i walk the line - f.w. - 1

1950s american carnival! au

Summary: The Weasley Bros. Circus has always been a family affair...until they pick up a highly unusual girl with wicked talents...

Warnings: 1950s America and all the shit that comes with it, NSFW/SMUT MINORS NO INTERACTING :) , alcohol usage, cussing, tw violence (fights), carny folk, contortionist, language and desc of intense circus acts, clowns, sad boy George, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF BULLYING IN THIS CHAPTER, angst

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“...welcome to our home!”

George listened as the crowd erupted before his father. He had always admired Arthur “Art” Weasley, for many a reason. The way he could walk in and command a room, the way he could silence an entire audience with a simple flick of his wrist of wave of his hand, the way his voice alone could stop his cries in the night, the way he would come up behind him when taking care of the animals was too much and say, “Georgie, go to sleep, son.” but most of all? The way his father noticed him.

Baltimore, Maryland. 1933.

George Weasley was on the run. Again. Charlie Dooley, a boy from his class, and his gang of (as Fred said) “chickenshit babies” had made it a habit of following George home from school and doing one of the following: a) chasing him on bikes, b) cornering him in the bathroom, or c) sprinting after him on foot.

Today, it had been on foot.

“C’mon monkey boy!” Charlie howled, the other boys closing in on him. George sprinted a quick right realizing he dropped his lunch box and thinking a violent but rapid mom’s gonna be so mad, oh no oh no-

George barreled down the street, his house in sight, tears stealing on his cheeks from the sheer speed and necessity to get home. His feet seemed to be operating without him knowing, his body throwing itself backwards and forwards with the blinding need to be home, to hug his dad and say he wasn’t going to school anymore, to ask his mom to stop packing bananas in his lunchbox even though it was his favorite snack because mom don’t you know they call me monkey boy-

“Thought you could really get away from us this time huh, Georgie boy?” Charlie had pinned him to the concrete, George’s heart screaming in his ears. He could barely register that his lip was bleeding, and that maybe if he focused on the sky, his eleven year old shrimp of a body wouldn’t feel-

Pow.

Isn’t that what superheroes say? Pow? Let’s think about superheroes, Georgie, Charlie doesn’t last long with punches anyway just keep lookin’ at the sky, he thought wildly before-

Pow.

Pow.

He vaguely felt his eyes roll back into his head, but he made a very clear rule to himself that he wouldn’t cry, Fred wouldn’t want him to cry, not that Fred was mean, Fred just hates seeing him cry-

Pow.

P-

And suddenly there was something off his body. He could hear punching noises but they were not aimed at George, but rather someone else. When he was able to open his eyes he saw his brother, Fred, landing blow after blow to Charlie Dooley, Charlie mewling under Fred.

“Touch my brother again, and I promise I won’t just break your nose next time, yeah?”

-

Art Weasley sat with his son George in the red chair in his caravan. It was George’s favorite chair, as he learned the word “red” from that chair and then equated “red” to his own hair.

Arthur had known his son would have it harder. It wasn’t his fault the boy was different, he loved him just the same for it if not slightly more so for the way he was a bit quieter, the way he listened and thought and thought and then wanted to make choices. The way he asked his mom if he could pack Fred’s lunches for school because only George knew Fred hated crunchy peanut butter sandwiches with white bread.

But more so for the way George wasn’t afraid to show love. To cry. To feel things Art sometimes couldn’t articulate.

George was curled into his father, tears staining his button up shirt and his body shuddering with every anxiety laden breath. Art put a hand on his son’s back and put his lips to his hair.

“George, you have to breathe for me or you’re gonna get sick.” He rubbed his son’s back soothingly.

“I’m sorry, dad, I promised I did what you said and tried to protect myself and when I couldn’t do anything else I just didn’t look at h-him I p-promise, dad p-please don’t be mad at me...” he took another shudder and released a cry into his father’s shoulder. Art was not a helpless man, but there was something that destroyed and cracked his very soul at the sight of his most vulnerable child, the most angelic of his seven children. The one that everyone protected. And at times like these, sometimes all a father can do is hold his child. So that’s what he did.

“I know, son...I know...”

-

“George?”

George jumped out of his thoughts, his palms sweaty from the inevitable stage fright that always accompanied him before a show. It was no matter how many times he grazed the trapeze with his sister Gin and his brother Ron, the nerves were always the same.

At least this time, no pows would be administered from anyone besides himself.

He heard his name again, the daze breaking as he looked at his oldest brother Bill.

“George. You’ll be fine. You always are, baby brother.” He said softly, placing his hands back on, Cora (short for Corazon) the lion. George gulped and nodded, and Fred patted his back, giving a hearty wink. George smiled a small smile, clapping Fred’s forearm.

“Ready, Fred?”

Fred grinned.

“Ready, George.”

-

George belonged to the trapeze. The way his body seemed to elongate with grace and dexterity when he grabbed his sister, the way he gave flirty winks at the girls in the crowd, the way he never dropped a muscle unplaced-

The way their father always noticed.

Fred saw these things in his younger brother and couldn’t help the fit of jealousy in his stomach. Don’t get your tightrope in a twist, he was possibly the most proud of his brother, and his hand to God if he didn’t say he hooted his name the loudest watching him do his thing.

But he never felt like he could ever match that.

He knew his hands were meant for something greater, same as his mind. Juggling came almost as easy to the older twin as breathing, smoking cigarettes, witty banter, and sex (in no particular order). But George had something Fred didn’t have.

Approval.

Fred was, for all intents and purposes, a good person. A great person. But his habits could’ve said so much otherwise.

Fred had a nasty habit of letting his temper get the best of him. Ever since he could talk, he had taken on the role of protector to not only George, but to Ginny and Ron as well. Frequently, his hands always seemed to have more things to say than he could which says a massive fucking lot. At the ripe age of 20, he’d gotten into more bar fights and straight up blacked out sober more than his own father, and all of his other siblings. He’d been in and out of detention when he did go to school, and in and out of-

Well, you get it.

The one thing that always seemed to follow him? His charm.

Fred Weasley was a charismatic motherfucker.

And he knew it.

It was simple. All he had to do in between acts was make a couple jokes, a few magic tricks, and by the end of his little charade? He’d have at least 3 girls lined up for that night. And if he was in a particularly bad mood?

Well, it could get a little more than that.

On nights like this, he was fine with just two.

I mean...Fred knew what he was doing.

And on a night like this - he was damn proud of it.

Until he saw you...

Last night.

Fred’s dessert was named Candy. He honestly couldn’t remember what her actual name was, but he did remember she said:

“Call me Candy. I taste like it, too.”

And honestly? That was really all he needed.

It didn’t take him long to press her small body against his caravan. She wound her arms around his neck and fisted into his flame colored hair and yanked, his hips rolling as he moaned into her lipstick stained mouth.

Fred always did have a thing for gals in red.

Fred realized his pants had begun to be a tad too tight, as Candy’s tongue licked into his mouth. his hands found their way under her dress, fingers kneading at her thighs and she squeaked. He lifted her legs at her noise and he wrapped them around his body, his bulge pressing into where she needed him the most.

“Fred, please” she whined, his mouth attaching to the valley of her breasts, the exposed skin of her dress warm and inviting.

“Please what, doll?” He teased roughly, his free hand sliding to cup her ass and squeezing. She gasped at his rough touch and he bit her collarbone.

“Fred, please, fuck me” she said airily. He smirked before pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

“Absolutely, baby, see how easy that was?” He licked her bottom lip and bit, before pressing his forehead to hers, the sheer strength of his body pressing her against the van enough to use his hands to pull her panties down enough for her to kick them away. She reached down to unzip his pants when he motioned for her to do so, his hard cock free of his boxers.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He growled against her earlobe. Candy whispered a breathy “please” and Fred slid into her cunt, her wetness echoing sinful noises at the contact. They groaned at connection, and Fred continued to go deeper into her until he bottomed out. He looked at her for confirmation to keep going and she nodded. He pulled out and slammed back into her, beginning to set a rough pace against the van.

“Freddie, fuckfuckfuck you feel s-so good” she sputtered, Candy’s back hitting and arching against the van, causing it to move slightly against her. Fred nipped and sucked at her neck, determined to always leave a map of where he left his treasure behind...

“Look at you, unraveling like a ball of twine. Never had cock this good, doll?” He reached a particularly good angle in her causing her to claw deeper at his back, biting in a scream.

“Thereeee it is, baby. You like that don’t you, c’mon be a good little cock slut and tell me what you want, want everyone in this whole fucking camp to know I’m fucking you so good.” His hand went to her clit, circling it harshly. He wanted her to finish, his dick was twitching all to hard in her and he needed her to release before it was his turn. Her moans and gasps and mini clawings were getting sloppier, losing their tempo.

“Fred-Fred-“

“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you” he groaned against her mouth at her clenching pussy. She gave a final sputter and screamed into his shoulder, a hot electric wave coursing over his cock, with one, two, three harder pumps, he released into her as well. He leaned his forehead against hers and kissed it lightly. But when he looked back at her face, she was already losing interest. Just like the others. But it didn’t bother him...at least not anymore, right?

Just another night.

-

Memories of Candy and Janie and Jessica and Portia and all the other girls seemed to wash away at the sight of you waiting after the show. Your eyes were full of life but somehow had something tired behind them. The way your hair wasn’t perfectly coiffed but still looked like you had tried to, the way your dress was crinkled at the bottom like you didn’t give a shit if it was crumpled in the bottom of your dresser.

And then you looked at him.

Fred Weasley could have sworn time stopped at the way you walked across the hay to him, your body positioned in a way that would’ve given him every reason to hold you. he realized his face began to flush at the sight of you getting closer.

That, he thought, was an alien feeling.

“Hi.” You said warmly to him.

“You’re Fred, right? I loved your act.”

He blinked twice and then returned your smile.

“Yeah. Thank you so much, I...I really try, I am so sorry but what is your name?” His eyes scanned your face. You stuck your tongue in your cheek and returned the search on his face.

“Y/N. Y/L/N. I’m looking for a job.”

[animepopheart]

Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 7: The Scars to Prove It (or, Love for the Moms, the Cutters, and the Drunks)

Wonder Egg Priority (WEP) has felt like the successor to Puella Magi Madoka Magica in many ways throughout its run, but in episode seven, it almost went full Madomagi by driving the stakes to their utmost height—to the death of one of the main characters. But as has been consistent with WEP, what it did instead, after some moments of true worry, is to instead deliver hope in the face of pain, resolve against overwhelming circumstances, and strength in weakness.

The series returns to Rika Kawai’s story in this episode, which starts with her turning 14. And on her 14th birthday, after leaving her hungover mother halfway asleep at the bar she works at and which they call home, Rika opens up to the rest of the girls, explaining that she doesn’t know her father (it could be any of five possibilities, or even more) and her mom won’t reveal any further information about him. As she trashes her mom, Neiru and Momoe are incredulous, which only drives Rika away from them. And though Ai goes to comfort her, Rika is in a terrible state of mind as she enters her next fight.

This was a difficult episode to watch. They’ve all been somewhat hard since the series never shies away from brutal and violent situations impacting young people, but I found myself squirming especially here as Rika’s cutting takes center stage. At one point, she decides to cut herself and it seems certain she will, before her turtle-like partner, Mannen, prevents it from happening.

Challenging, also, is how strained Rika’s relationship is with her mother, who’s life revolves around drink—alcohol both pays the bills and helps her forget how miserable her existence is. And in the midst of all the bad behavior in this episode—the usual Rika talk, her mom’s alcoholism and neglect, and the selfishness all around, one begins to feel deeply sorrowful for the Kawai women. Yes, Rika is often obnoxious, but her family life is in shambles, and she still exhibits goodness, including a curiously gentle relationship with Mannen. And Rika’s mother is a tragic figure, used by men and quite on the road to an early death, it would seem, unable to lift herself out of the gutter as she tries, in her own sloppy way, to protect and reach out to her daughter.

It’s in this hopelessness that Rika turns again to cutting, and then finds herself tempted by something even more dangerous. Her foe this time is a religious leader who led the egg, a follower who continues to believe in him, to commit suicide as a way of “connecting” with the universe (Heaven’s Gate, anyone?). Rika decries the ghoul as a charlatan, but is confronted with her own weakness when the egg shows her own scarred arm to Rika, revealing that she can tell that the latter cuts just like she did. And then she explains that Rika can be released from this pain.

The scars, evidence of what Rika does to cope with her pain, now become the weakness that they truly are, revealing how hopeless she feels, and how powerless she is against the mechanizations of her family life. And defeated, she’s about to allow herself to be killed when a surprising savior comes along—a turtle. Mannen attacks the spiritual leader, to Rika’s surprise as well, until she remembers that he has imprinted on her. Rika is Mannen’s mom, and as he did when he prevented her from cutting, Mannen is again protecting his mother.

The conclusion that Rika reaches is unusual but inspiring. She understands, in this moment, the need to protect one’s mom, finally admitting to herself in a de facto way that maybe her mother is in need of love, too. It’s funny to consider the need that mothers have for love since culturally and socially, they’re always seen as the providers of it. But of course, they need it in return, especially when they falter. My own mother is sick right now, and I think of the support I need to give her and the lack of that I’ve provided through the years.

Warning: Screenshot involving cutting after the jump.

My mother was a good one, however. Rika’s, on the other hand, has struggled with the charge, which reminds me of a story from one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, about another bad parent—a far worse one, in fact, and a real one. I’ll quote part of the passage from chapter seven:

“‘Our daughter Debbie wanted a pair of earth shoes for her Christmas present. On the afternoon of December 24, my husband drove her downtown, gave her sixty dollars, and told her to buy the best pair of shoes in the store. That is exactly what she did. When she climbed back into the pickup truck her father was driving, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he was the best daddy in the whole world. Max was preening himself like a peacock and decided to celebrate on the way home. He stopped at the Cork ‘n’ Bottle–that’s a tavern a few miles from our house and told Debbie he would be right out. It was a clear and extremely cold day, about twelve degrees above zero, so Max left the motor running and locked both doors from the outside so no one could get in. It was a little after three in the afternoon and…’

Silence.

‘Yes?’

The sound of heavy breathing crossed the recreation room. Her voice grew faint. She was crying. ‘My husband met some old Army buddies in the tavern. Swept up in euphoria over the reunion, he lost track of time, purpose, and everything else. He came out of the Cork ‘n’ Bottle at midnight . He was drunk. The motor had stopped running and the car windows were frozen shut. Debbie was badly frostbitten on both ears and on her fingers. When we got her to the hospital, the doctors had to operate. They amputated the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She will be deaf for the rest of her life.'”

Max—a real person, mind you—was a successful, well-liked man, but his drinking problem led to an unconscionable decision and profound failure as a parent. And yet, this book is about grace, an idea which to humans feels unjust, but  which has the power to change hearts and tear down walls, sometimes literally.

Could Max be given grace? Could Rika’s mother? If not directly, she’s done her own physical damage to her daughter in the form of those cutting scars (difficult and perhaps triggering images below). As mentioned earlier, the egg that she’s helping knows her pain and insists that letting go of everything, including life itself, is the way to peace. After all, to a young, suffering girl, what else could these scars mean?

But in the midst of giving up, in the moment that she actually capitulates (and this episode takes you 99% to the edge, both in the cutting scene and in the apparent death scene), Rika experiences something powerful. She experiences grace.

Have you ever been challenged to forgive someone when you don’t want to, when you feel completely in the right? Maybe it’s easy for you, but perhaps it isn’t. The girls surrounding Rika experience differing degrees of this with her sometimes maniacal and often hurtful behavior. Ai forgives easily. Momoe gets fired up and then equally seeks to make peace. And Neiru…well, Neiru holds onto “justice” more than love (setting up what I imagine will be the most powerful transformation in the series of all, in true Homura fashion). But in the moment that Rika is about to give her life, the girls yell out their love for her, even Neiru, and then more profoundly, without any hesitation, Mannen puts his own life on the line to stop the death from occurring. Rika has already given up, but this turtle hasn’t—not for his mother, whom he loves very much.

And experiencing that love from a different angle, Rika is changed just a bit. She begins to see her weakness as a “mother,” failing her turtle-child, and thinks of her own mom who is overwhelmed by hurt and a failure as well. And if just a little—for as the final scenes indicate, it is just a little—the path toward forgiveness begins.

But a little bit of grace is like a little bit of a flood—its power overwhelms, and it defeats the enemy, whether that means bitterness, a physical person (or manifestation of one), or the devil himself.

When Rika returns from the event, having killed the cult leader monster, it’s interesting to note that she isn’t a wholly different person. She’s changing little by little. And her scars remain. In fact, as she admits, she probably will cut herself again. But strangely enough, those scars now represent something different. They show someone trying—failing, yes, sometimes considerably and maybe very often—but trying, and only able to try because love was shown her, and through that, she is now able to show love as well.

You may have such scars in your life, physical or emotional, battered by the world and by people. I hope that you can develop relationships that help you heal as well, and that you’ll also remember that there are other scars which are meaningful to you, but which you cannot see on your person, scars that were borne out of a desire to heal you. Christ took the piercings, on his head, hands, feet, and side, so that while your heart and flesh may be cut, your soul need not be. And through his wounds, you may be healed.

The grace offered through Christ is one that, as he explains about everlasting water at the well to the Samaritan, for now and through eternity. The egg seeks peace forever by dying, but Jesus, unlike the cult leader, died for us so that we may not have to. He took the nails, the cross, and the spear so that we don’t have to inflict pain on ourselves and receive the punishment of our actions against him and others. He is our scar.

That’s grace. That’s the power that it has. And it can reach anyone—even a terrible dad, an alcoholic mom, a tempestuous child, and, and most significantly and personally—you.

If you’re suffering and in pain, maybe self-inflicted, we encourage you to explain such to a parent or trusted adult and ask for help. It’s a difficult first step, but one that will help you begin recovering. And we also advise that you turn to Christ for help—in prayer, community, and scripture. He provides people to us that will aid us in our times of need, as well as himself and the Holy Spirit if we are believers.

Additionally, there’s a scene in this episode where triumphant, Rika concludes that cutting is okay. That’s said in the context of her moving forward bit by bit and forgiving herself for her failures, even the upcoming ones. That’s an important lesson, though we must certainly be careful not to let it be a license to continue cutting with impunity.

Wonder Egg Priority can be streamed through Funimation. Read more of our articles by signing up for our weekly newsletter.

[pokemoncreepypasta]

HM Slave

[STORY SOURCE]

The Generation I games. Definitely not perfect games by any means, but they were fun to play.

It's a shame my old cartridge’s battery has been long since dead. Makes sense, it was a hand-me-down from an older sibling of mine. Between both of our times playing it, it was bound to die sometime.

I was feeling nostalgic and wanted to play it again after so many years...

The trouble was, I had no intention of learning how to replace the battery, or buying a new cartridge. None of that appealed to me.

So, I just took it upon myself to play it without saving. Any time I wanted to stop, I’d just plug it into my charger, and leave it be.

Everything about this run was just for nostalgia. It was nothing personal to me, so I didn't name Red after myself or something.

I wanted to play through this game without getting attached to anything.

The best way to go through without caring? A starter-only run. I chose Charmander, since it was the cover ‘mon, and also my favorite of the three. Not necessarily because it would make the game easier in the long run.

Of course, there’s no way I’d be able to get through with just Charmander.

My plan was to catch a Pokémon specifically to use as an HM slave, so my Charizard wouldn’t be clogged up by useless moves in the long run.

And what better HM slave than the one who can learn them all, right?

In Generation I, you can’t delete moves in any way, so an HM slave was absolutely necessary.

Not like I hated Mew or anything... I just never performed the Mew glitch as a kid and thought that this would be a fun opportunity to try it.

The darned thing did everything within its power to not get caught, blowing through every single one of my PokéBalls that I’d prepared to catch it with. Hey, it wasn’t like I was going to need them later, so I didn’t complain.

I decided to nickname the little thing. I’d heard the term “HM mule” thrown around in place of HM slave, so I thought it would be funny.

Of course, picking the Fire type had its rocky start, with its disadvantage against the first two gym leaders.

I managed to scrape by with scummy tactics, though.

I’d switched to my Abra that I’d caught to perform the Mew glitch, and let Misty knock it out.

After that, I switched to Mewl for the free turn, and then healed my Charmeleon. Then, after Mewl fainted, I got a free switch into Charmeleon.

When the battle was over, I could proudly claim the Cascade Badge.

This was Mewl’s secondary purpose, to be switch fodder for me to heal my starter.

Things were going fine until Mewl learned Cut.

The first instance where Mewl’s “skills” would come into play.

This was a game where you couldn’t use HMs from the overworld, so I went to the menu to manually select it.

“MEWL ignored orders...”

Now, imagine my surprise when my slave wouldn’t listen to orders. I tried a few more times, with the same result.

I attempted to rationalize it, picking my brain for a reason. I assumed that you could not use HM moves while a Pokémon was fainted, but something about that didn’t seem right.

I healed at the Pokémon Center to be safe though.

That seemed to work, so I assumed that I was right and continued to Surge.

Nothing really unusual happened during the fight, but Mewl was knocked out again for a free heal.

On my way out, I had to cut down the tree blocking Surge’s gym again. I was worried for a moment that I had gotten myself stuck, but Mewl cut it down just fine.

I figured the game would let me use HM moves if I would be trapped otherwise.

I went back to the center to heal up my starter, and my stubborn little mule.

(And Abra too, I guess.)

I caught and released a few throwaway Pokémon to obtain Flash, which I immediately taught to Mewl.

I made my way to Rock Tunnel.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

I was frustratingly met with this. It was fully healed, I couldn't understand why it was disobeying. I wondered if it was some sort of consequence from having an illegitimate Mew...

I kept trying and trying, but no matter what, it wouldn’t light the cave.

I was sure this little bugger didn’t want to wander around in the dark just as much as me, so I really couldn’t figure out what was wrong.

I tried checking its summary, to which its blank, neutral expression had changed to something more... defiant?

I didn't know what kind of sick joke Morimoto was pulling on me by programming Mew to be this way, but I wasn’t having any of it.

It dawned on me that Abra could also learn Flash, so I just let Mewl be prissy and lit up the cave with Abra.

I somewhat regretted my choice to teach Mewl Flash. If I had known it was going to act like this, I would have just taught it Fly instead…

I decided to go ahead and skip getting Fly, since Charizard couldn't learn it anyway.

Thankfully, I made it out of Rock Tunnel just fine.

Charizard made Erika’s gym a total joke, so I didn’t even need Mewl as fodder for this fight.

The whole game was going fine so far up to Fuchsia City, and I had completely forgotten about Mewl’s disobedience by now.

I had obtained its final two moves, so I booted the HMs up and slapped them onto it.

Of course, to use Surf and progress, I had to face off against Koga.

Things were going well up until Charizard couldn’t deal with Koga’s last Pokémon.

I sent in Mewl to heal my Charizard.

”Enemy WEEZING used SLUDGE!”

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

Strangely, when Weezing attacked Mewl, it didn’t get knocked out in one hit like it was meant to. Instead, it stayed in the field.

While I wanted to question it at the time, I just used a Hyper Potion on my Charizard to get it back to full.

”Enemy WEEZING used SMOG!” 

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!”

 Sure enough, I wasn’t dreaming. Mewl was somehow surviving all of Koga’s attacks. Normally that would be pretty cool, except for the fact that Mewl was level 7 and therefore effectively worthless in this fight.

I had to wait for it to faint to switch to Charizard, but Mewl kept surviving every hit that was thrown at it.

”Enemy WEEZING used TOXIC!”

“MEWL”s hurt by poison!”

“MEWL fainted!”

Thankfully, it eventually became poisoned and went down, so I could send in Charizard to finish the job.

I made quick work of Koga and his Weezing after that and made my way out of the Gym.

But weirdly, as I was leaving, I couldn’t help but notice the screen flashing as if a Pokémon in my party was still poisoned.

I checked my party again to see what was up.

It seemed like Mew had a custom sprite for being knocked out that I never noticed before. I didn't even know if that was a thing.

But it was definitely knocked out, for sure, so I brushed it off as some sort of bug.

I figured if anything would fix the poison glitch, it’d be healing at the Pokémon Center.

”If you drive your POKéMON too hard, they’ll dislike you.”  

”Please take better care of your POKéMON.” 

 I was confused at this text. Was this dialogue hidden for players like me who let their Pokémon faint over and over? Whatever it is, I have never seen it before.

”We hope to see you again!” 

The nurse went back to her chipper disposition afterwards though, so I figured I should just be on my merry way as well.

I checked up on Mewl to see how it was doing now.

It seemed like the nurse just haphazardly patched it up. Mewl’s expression still looked tense, but I hoped that didn’t mean it wouldn’t use its new HM moves.

I made a quick note to take down Giovanni at Silph Co. and Sabrina. My Charizard was actually getting a bit over-leveled, so I swept through without needing to use Mewl to heal during battles at all.

I decided that on my way to Blaine, I would fall back on my training a bit.

I back-tracked over to Fuchsia City since it was faster than going all the way back to Pallet Town.

I made my way down by the Fuchsia coast and hoped quietly that Mewl would let me Surf to Cinnabar.

Thankfully it seemed like the 1’4 cat was perfectly fine with me riding on its back, with no defiance at all. I felt confident, like I was finally getting enough gym badges to make it obey.

I'd even gotten it to listen when I needed it to use Strength in the Seafoam Islands. Things were really looking up.

I’d finally hit land and was ready to storm the Cinnabar Mansion and claim Blaine’s badge.

I was feeling pretty confident with my Charizard’s HP and level that I wanted to take on the Gym without healing at the Pokémon Center.

I had plenty of Potions and Revives in case of emergency, anyway.

All of the quiz questions were normal, except... This bizarre one. 

“You treat all your POKéMON fairly?”

Though it had been several years since I played this game, something felt off about it, like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

I half-heartedly answered yes, despite knowing it was untrue. My logic was, at the very least, that even though I as a player didn’t care about these Pokémon, maybe Red did.

”Sorry! Bad call!”

The buzzer went off and I was harassed by a trainer. I was appalled... Was the game really criticizing me as a player?

Had I hit some sort of secret flag after making Mewl faint so much? I couldn't understand what was happening.

I didn’t give myself much time to think about it though, so I healed up my Charizard with some Potions and took on Blaine.

Charizard had fainted again, so I left it up to Mewl.

I healed up my Charizard and expected Mewl to hang on like before, but it just went down with no resistance.

With my seventh gym badge in hand, I was pretty happy with my run so far. A couple more hours in and I’d be done, I thought.

I was ready to Surf north towards Pallet Town and claim my eighth and final badge.

“MEWL ignored orders!”

But I received a friendly reminder.

I had forgotten that Mewl didn’t like using HMs without being healed. I really didn’t feel like taking it to the Pokémon Center though, so I just carelessly threw a Revive at it.

Hoping that the Revive would be good enough to satisfy it and let me ride on it again, I mashed through text a few times to see if I could brute-force it to listen.

”MEWL won’t obey!”

”MEWL turned away!”

It kept bombarding me with the same defiant messages over and over, until...

“MEWL hates you.”

I was caught off-guard. This text didn’t have the same energy as the others, lacking an exclamation point. It sounded like flat, cold, genuine hatred.

I pressed A again, and attempted to order another Surf. Not necessarily because I wanted it to Surf now, but more out of a morbid fascination with such intense text.

“MEWL used instead, FLASH!”

Suddenly, like in a battle, the screen lit up totally white.

I was booted out of the party screen afterwards, and immediately noticed a distinct lack of an items menu. Had Mewl taken it from me?

Closing out of the menu, I spoke to the Pokémon now standing next to me, knowing exactly who it was supposed to be.

”Mew!”

Mew’s cry played. I already knew it.

“MEWL hacked away with CUT!”

I flinched, horrified at the thought of Mewl directly attacking my trainer.

”HM01 was destroyed!”

But then I realized, it wasn't that...

”HM03 was destroyed!” 

 Instead, Mewl had stolen my items...

”HM04 was destroyed!” 

 … And was proceeding to destroy each of my HMs, one by one.

”HM05 was destroyed!” 

 After destroying HM05, Mewl’s sprite disappeared; presumably back into its PokéBall.

I was exasperated, but quick on my wits.

I still had Fuchsia City's Pokémon Center as my last saved location, meaning I could use Abra to Teleport back to the mainland.

I was smug, thinking I'd found a loophole around Mewl's attempts to sabotage me.

”ABRA used TELEPORT!”

“ABRA ran away!”

I panicked, to say the least. I frantically scrolled around my party page. How could Abra have disappeared like that? I wasn't going to accept Mewl being my only ride back to Pallet, it was impossible.

I desperately went to the PC inside the Pokémon Center, in some vain hope that maybe Abra had just been sent there somehow.

”MEWL used STRENGTH.”

“The PC was destroyed!”

I couldn't believe it.

Mewl had gone full rogue.

I suddenly had to come to grips with the horrifying realization...

I was trapped in Cinnabar with no way off.

I went through what I can only describe as the five stages of grief.

Stage 1 - Denial

I scoured the internet for any other Pokémon in Cinnabar Mansion that I could use to escape the island.

I quickly remembered that Mewl had already destroyed my HMs and stolen my items, and realized I couldn’t catch anything.

But I did have one more plan.

If I could knock out Charizard and Mewl, I could be sent back to Fuchsia. It would take a bit of work for Charizard to eventually faint, but I was prepared to try anything.

”CHARIZARD ran away!”

But I couldn’t be prepared for my Charizard running away.

I was so shocked that I didn’t even want to send in Mewl, I just said no and fled the battle.

I fell into absolute despair. Mewl had not only ruined my chance of getting off the island, but now, even if I did, what would I do without the only Pokémon I’d been raising?

Stage 2 - Anger

I’d never thought malicious thoughts about this Mew before, just casual indifference and sometimes mild frustration. But I can’t say that I didn’t want some payback towards this Mew for wasting several perfectly good hours of my life.

I sadistically thought about how I would make it faint, and then how I would torture it over, and over, making it repeatedly faint until maybe it would measure up to Charizard’s strength.

“MEWL ENDURED the hit!” 

I couldn't stop myself from shouting "NO."

Despite Mewl’s apparent injuries, it hung on with one HP.

Again, and again, no matter what I did. No matter what Pokémon I faced.

It seemed like nothing could poison it, burn it, kill it.

Then, it dawned on me…

Maybe this was what Mewl wanted all along?

Stage 3 - Bargaining

Mewl’s stubbornness and special ability that made it unable to faint...

It took Mewl a long time to faint its first real opponent, due to its low level, but in the end, it grew.

I checked Mewl’s summary for some sort of sign, anything at all, that this was what I was supposed to be doing. It stared at me with its vacant, unreadable expression...

Perhaps it was shocked I had battled with it? Whatever the case, it wasn’t staring at me with hostility anymore...

So it was silently agreed between us, then. Mewl and I, we did our first ever grinding session.

It took a few hours, but Mewl’s level was growing steadily. Things seemed to be going well, until...

We ran into our first wild Ditto.

I thought it was strange, having not found a Ditto for all this time I'd spent in Cinnabar Mansion, but I didn’t see any trouble with fighting it, so I just let the battle progress.

Stage 4 - Depression

The Ditto transformed into Mewl, who appeared to have a sad expression on its face.

I quickly pulled out of the battle screen and into my party to see if something had changed with Mewl.

I checked to see Mewl, who had that same sad expression as the Ditto. Its status had changed from "OK" to a worrying "...".

I knew something was wrong, so I fled from that battle and every battle afterwards.

Though I had avoided it before on hopes of somehow escaping to Fuchsia City, I gave it all up to heal Mewl, who had risked life and limb to impress me.

After it was healed, I checked its summary again.

Though it had fully healed, it still had that depressed look in its eyes. I couldn’t understand want it wanted. I didn’t know what it needed.

But I realized that it was getting pretty late, and I wanted to get to sleep soon. I would have to leave the game on, and leave Mewl behind.

That was when it hit me.

Could it be possible that Mewl knew I hadn’t saved? Did Mewl somehow understand that no matter if I saved or didn’t save, it would disappear when I turned the game off?

I hadn’t really thought about it until now, but Mewl was more special than any other Pokémon I’d ever played with.

And if I turned the game off, it would disappear forever.

I didn’t know how to feel about that.

I went out of the Pokémon Center to reflect about this with Mewl.

I still wanted to finish the adventure with it, if it would let me.

Stage 5 - Acceptance

“MEWL doesn’t want to go.”

That was okay, I thought.

I realized that even if I went with Mewl to the Pokémon League, and won, then the game would return to the title screen and not save my progress.

Maybe Mewl understood that, too.

So then we were at an impasse, together on Cinnabar Island.

I didn’t know what to do. Even if this Mew was special, even if I genuinely believed it was real, I couldn’t just keep my GameBoy on forever. What would anyone else think?

I decided that for the first time in this entire run, I wanted to save my game. I didn't want to turn it off just yet, but at least save, as some sort of precautionary measure.

I hoped, that in the event the GameBoy turned off for whatever reason, a miracle would occur.

”Would you like to SAVE your MEW?”

It seemed that the game knew exactly what my heart wanted, and I selected yes.

Then, all of a sudden, my game turned off. Not due to low battery or anything, but it just turned off.

I panicked for a moment, and quickly switched the game back on.

It was gone. The save file was gone.

Or, rather, it was never there to begin with.

[lyallblacklupin]

Don’t miss the Yule Ball.

Remus sorts out his feelings about Sirius. 

Tags: Post-Incident with Severus Snape, Angst with Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Trust Issues.

Chapter 4

If someone had been there to witness what happened to Remus after Sirius had left the dorm, they would have had given him the longest hug to repress his teeming guilt that had gushed out of him so hard that he had collapsed on the floor, rocking back and forth for tears to come out, but they never came. He never wanted things to be turned this way between him and Sirius, which were completely unexpected. Sure, he did fantasize of being asked out by Sirius, but not in his right mind he had ever had any hopes for it to happen. He really underestimated Sirius. He was strongly reminded that the void in his chest was Sirius’ absence in his life which was expanding day by day, ripping his heart in the midst. He wanted Sirius. So much. He felt selfish—in fact he was selfish, and right now it didn’t seem like much of a sin.

He was again at the Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall, sipping coffee heedlessly, mind floating elsewhere in the crack of dawn. There were no classes today due to the Yule Ball in the evening. He had nothing to distract himself with. Surprisingly, he was greeted by a very unusual couple that he had to blink his eyes a little too much to believe he was seeing right.

“Oh, stop blinking! I know it’s hard to believe.” Lily Evans grumbled, with a slight amusement in her voice.

“Oh Evans, it’s not hard for me to believe. I am very much alive right now!” Yes, that was none other than James Potter, grinning his usual stupid, stupid smirk.

“For your information, we are not dating, Potter. We are just friends who happened to be going on a very casual event of our school.” Lily imitated a very elegant voice, smiling successfully that James couldn’t stop looking at her—or couldn’t stop swooning at her.

“Sure.” He shrugged, the smile not leaving his face for a second. They both slipped into their seats beside Remus, but they didn’t sit together. James and Lily were sitting on Remus’ sides. When the silence had prolonged for more than it was necessary, he found both of them staring at him.

“What?” He was utter confused.

“You think we are unable to see that long face of yours?” Lily commented, arching her brows like Mcgonacall. He shook his head slightly. He knew that he was not going to get away from this, “Tell us what happened?”

Remus was unable to gather words. He felt like he had no ounce of energy left in his body.

“I don’t know what to tell…” He trailed off.

“Okay, how about you tell us what are you feeling?” She put her hand on his.

“I don’t know that either.”

“Okay, okay…Umm. How about we ask you questions and you try to answer them?” Remus was not thrilled with her idea, so he stayed silent which she took it as his approval, “Did you have a fight with Sirius?”

“Not exactly a fight…” Remus was replaying the memory in his head for the infinith time, “Merlin, I wish it had been a fight.”

“Was it about…what he did with Snap—“ Lily was cut off by the shake of his head.

“No, it was not about that!” He said irritatingly, “We are way past that, okay?” He wasn’t asking but he was making it clear.

“Are you?” James interjected.

“Look, I have forgiven him long time ago. It’s just getting difficult to be, you know…normal?”

“Okay, let’s talk straight here, mate,” James put his arm around Remus—which was a typical ‘James Potter move’ when he was trying to convince someone, “You guys were dating before…all of that,” He did a vague hand gesture, “And right now, you guys are just these uncomfortable exes who are missing each other so much but have a tendency to ignore that.”

“Of course, I miss Sirius. He was my only best friend, James.” James gasped dramatically, making a show of how mocked he felt by his comment. Remus rolled his eyes at him.

“Yes, but James is trying to say that you guys miss being each other’s boyfriends.” Lily said those words with such gentleness that Remus felt heat creeping up on his neck. He was suddenly reminiscing the best memories of his life when he was dating Sirius.

“You are an ignorant, self-centered and a mean boyfriend, do you know that?” Remus replied blankly, his temper had reached the level of exhaustion because Sirius was right that Remus was never going to win any arguments with him. So he flopped on his bed but Sirius crawled from his behind to take him in his arms.

“But you love me.” He whispered, planting tiny kisses on Remus’ ear and jaw. Remus had turned into a mush, because it felt so good. He decided that he wasn’t unhappy on his position in their relationship. His mind made a mental note to himself that he’d rather let Sirius win all the arguments if it meant that he was never going to leave Remus.

“I do, I do love you.” He whispered back.

“Moony?”

“Remus?”

Remus jerked out of his ruminating to see James and Lily gawking at him.

“Sorry, just zoned out of the conversation.” He cleared his throat and Lily offered him her coffee.

“You’re a mess, Rem. You need to sort this out with yourself.” She was right, Remus knew, but he also wanted someone to tell him what to do.

“What do I do?”

“Go to the dance with him!” James piped up, and Remus flinched, “What?”

“Urgh. That was how it all started…”And then he told them what happened when Sirius asked him to be his date, how it turned out, and how infuriatingly he didn’t know what to do.

“You have a date!?” Lily scowled at him. Not only James was looking disappointed by the news, but Remus also felt sick of himself.

“I am the worst person in the world. I messed up. I messed everything! I knew that this was not what I wanted! I never wanted to date anyone. And yes, I admit, I haven’t moved on. Not even a little bit. I still think about him, and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that he had always been the one to calm me down whenever I’m angry or sad but then Snape happened, and I made a promise with myself that I will never let Sirius come near me. But I was this overconfident shit that I thought I will be able to handle all it. And then I wasn’t…and I can’t…”

His chest was thundering as the sobs began to cloud his throat, waiting for Remus to let go of himself. He didn’t want anyone to touch him otherwise, he’d never stop crying now that his heart was opening and becoming vulnerable.

“Moony…” James’ gentle voice was enough to bring his emotion at the brink of his eyes. He didn’t just underestimate Sirius, but also himself. That was very unlike Remus. He hated being the center of attention, he hated breaking down in public, and he hated people’s soft words—let alone the physical gestures.

“Don’t.” It was all he could manage to say when Lily had touched his arm. He was on his feet as he fled the hall, in desperate need to reach the lavatory.

So it was about what happened with Snape, came a voice in his head when he was inside the vacant bathroom. There was still mistrust, swimming with his judgments. His mind was telling him that he shouldn’t commit the same mistake of getting into relationship with Sirius but his heart was not helping at all. It was so in love. He was trying breathe properly.

Let love be your guide, his heart said.

And then get lost? His mind retorted.

Yes! Remus wanted to slap himself.

He had been pushing feelings all of his life. He had been very difficult with Sirius for straight two days when Sirius had confessed that he was in love with him. The most remarkable thing was that Sirius understood his struggle with feelings and emotions. He had the art to scoop them out of Remus’ system. Moony, this is the only way to calm yourself, he had said to him. And now, as Lily had said, he was a mess. Without him. Without Sirius.

After few hours—what felt like minutes—he washed his miserable face and walked to the courtyard. He didn’t want to go the Gryffindor Tower to face anyone. He was a wreck. He didn’t want to face Sirius either, so he just sat by the outdated fountain where the tree was protecting him from the sun. He decided that he was not going to the Ball. He just wanted to rehearse his future act of turning down Catherina Johnson gently. He relaxed himself there. It had been fifteen minutes, and he had been thinking of his DADA essay for Patronus charms, which was a win-win for him as a distraction.

However, it wasn’t long when he took out his wand and tried to cast a patronus.

“Expecto Patronum.” He whispered, thinking about the time when his friends had first time accompanied him to the moon as Animagus. A silver wisp glowed on the tip of his wand but then died out after a second, which made him eventually want to think about the moments that had made him genuinely happy. He thought about the time when Sirius had told him he was a good kisser, when he had told him that they should start dating, and a lot more but they were not strong enough to cast full patronus, just a silver light flickering. He was confused. He focused and focused, becoming impatient. He was also worrying if Sirius was not associated with his happiest memory then maybe Remus had been in an oblivion—or say, stupid in love. He knew that love was the most powerful element to do wonders, even in the wizarding world. But What if it was never love? What if it was just infatuation? Then why was his heart hammering so violently in his chest? But then he was suddenly reminded of a very bad day in his fifth year when he was walking by the dungeon where the sixth-years were taking their Potions class, and Slughorn had called him to volunteer.

“Mr Lupin here is a fifth year, and he has advanced enough to brew Veritaserum which is supposed to be taught in his next year. Uh—Mr Lupin please, come forth and—Mr Lupin?”

Remus was extremely annoyed by a certain scent saturating the room. He was sniffing, and whipping his head to follow it. He had completely forgotten that he was volunteering with Professor Slughorn because he is so concentrated on the scent which is filling his nostrils, making him quite dizzy.

“What is this smell, Professor?” He asked, still looking here and there. He knew that some of his senior students were making fun of him as the room was filled with faint sounds of sniggers and snorts.

“Mr Lupin, you are in a Potion classroom, there are numerous of potions sitting out…” Remus ignored his rambling because the scent is getting stronger. He couldn’t put a finger on it because it was reminding him of many things. Musk, which was making him lightheaded. Cigarettes. Damp hair after hot shower. The feeling of leather on skin, and also the forbidden forest. The scent had a strange sense of familiarization. It was vague but he was drawn to it. It was like he was sitting in the heart of someone—someone he knew, because he could feel their heart beat in his ears.

Remus’ whole day was a disaster because he couldn’t brew the Veritaserum properly, Slughorn had sent him back to his dorm, he was tackled by Peeves on his way, and he was also annoyed by some portraits which had made fun of his scars. After his prefect rounds, he entered the common room with a foul mood, and spotted Sirius Black sitting alone on the couch. He looked at his pocket watch and found that it was past midnight. Sirius stood up and held out his arms, smiling at him. Remus threw his satchel and books away, and fell into Sirius’ arms. He was embraced so tightly and warmly.

They both stayed quiet, and Remus nuzzled his face in the crook of his neck. That was when his eyes snapped both because he caught a whiff of the same scent that had been annoying him in the Potions.

“That scent.” Remus murmured, pulling away from Sirius.

“What scent?” Sirius asked, perplexed.

“Oh! Not you, now! I have had enough of it! This scent is driving me mad, Sirius!”

“Hey, hey, calm down, Moony, why are you crying?”

“What?”

“You are crying.”

“Oh.”

“Come here.”

He was embraced again, and then it hit him. That scent was Sirius. It was not coming from somewhere, it was just Sirius’ scent. Very natural, and very Sirius. The potion he had smelled in the dungeon was Amortentia. Sirius had always been the one to give Remus the physical interaction he shared with no one in his group. Due to his claustrophobia, he had always found hugging very uncomfortable, but not with Sirius, never with Sirius.

“I’m claustrophobic.”

“I know.” Sirius tightened his hold on Remus, pulling him impossibly closer, and he was not choking for breath. That made him cry, more and more. He was not embarrassed for the streaming tears, so he let them fall because it was just Sirius. His home.

“Expecto Patronum.”

A full grown silver dog shot out of his wand, running in circles around Remus enthusiastically. And suddenly, Remus realized why such an odd memory was his happiest and the most powerful one because it was the day when he was brought in front of the raw truth that he was in love with Sirius Black.

It was afternoon, and everyone was gathering for lunch a little earlier because the Great Hall was going to be sealed for the decorations of the Yule Ball until the evening. Remus looked around him, everyone was beaming and laughing with the exhilaration for tonight. He needed to find Sirius. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to see him, at least. He walking quickly through the crowd, looking for him.

“Hey Remus!” He turned to find Catherina staring at him. Remus groaned internally.

“Hi, Catherina.” He tried to smile.

“Oh, call me Cathy. My friends calls me Cathy.” They fell into brief silence but she break it—to Remus’ horror, “So what’s the color of your robes tonight?” He frowned at her, “Oh, it’s okay if you don’t to tell but please don’t wear anything mustard. I have an extreme aversion to—“

“Catherina, I can’t go with you tonight.” He tried to ignore the hammering of his heart.

“What?” She looked distraught.

“I’m sorry—“

“Is this because of Black?”

“What does Sirius has to do with any of this?”

“Oh you bet your arse, it is! You guys think you are so subtle.” Remus is frozen in his place, “Who do you think you are? You thought I was just a bloody nobody to whom you’ll say yes without having to mean it—“

“Catherine, it’s not like that! I’m not feeling well, I can’t go—“

“Oh, save it, Lupin! You first agreed to be my date and broke Black’s heart, and now you’re going to his date by breaking mine?” She looked hurt, very hurt and Remus wanted to just die because her words were too true to be painful, “Can’t you see what you are doing?”

“I am so sorry, Cathy. Please. And I’m not going with anyone!” But she was shaking his head, “You have to believe me. And you are right, I did break your heart and you have no idea how pathetic I feel! I am a terrible person. I don’t deserve to be your date.”

“You are not,” She spoke after a brief silence, “You are not a terrible person. You are just stupid.”

“Same thing.”

“Look, you didn’t break my heart. You hurt my feelings, and I didn’t expect that from you. But you know what, people surprise you.” There is a very awkward silence between them and Remus couldn’t stop himself from apologizing. She gave him a long strange look, and then walked away.

Remus didn’t stand for any longer, he began walking. The thoughts, the guilt, the pain, the unjust things, the stupid acts, unfathomable love, all of that was dawning upon him at every step he was taking. His pace was becoming frantic as he reached closer to the Gryffindor Tower.

He entered the common room, his heart was racing abnormally. He paid no heed to the fourth-years standing in their robes and gowns. He ascended the staircase to his dormitory. For a second, he thought he was the same fifth-year student fleeing the Potions class because a certain scent had screwed up his day. He barged into the dorm just like he had on that day in the common room.

And once again, he found none other than Sirius Black, sitting alone in the room.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 5 is coming soon!

[shig-a-shig-ah]

im backkkkkk!:-) can i request some soft shiggy comforting his s/o because she’s not feeling well? he doesn’t realize it at first and is oblivious to her distance and then realizes and feels bad so he tries to make her feel better with video games, cuddles, and maybe some sexy times ;-) [i cringe at myself im so bad at making requests lol] if not i understand:-)

Haha this is a perfect request! I don’t mind specifics, and I am forever weak for soft Shig requests.

I went more of a mental health route with this one, rather than physically not feeling well, because sick sexy times sound less fun, and also I’ve had a rough month and want to project lol.  Sexy times are strictly implied here tho, no NSFW stuff. 

» pairing: shigaraki tomura x gn!reader

» wc: 763

Tomura prides himself on being perceptive. On reading people well and being constantly attuned to his surroundings, always ready to react without hesitation the moment it’s necessary.

So, it’s an unfamiliar and disorienting kind of panic that strikes him when he realizes you’re not in the bar with him, and that you haven’t been all morning. You’re always there—a quiet presence even when he’s working, and one he appreciates—but here it is, well past noon, and somehow he’s only just now noticing your absence.

He’s been busier than usual lately, but he doesn’t let himself dwell on that excuse, only starts thinking back over the past couple of days, scratching at his neck as he realizes it’s not only this morning that’s been unusual. You’d gone to bed early the night before, almost immediately after dinner, and hadn’t eaten much then. Hadn’t eaten much in the last couple of days actually, or been quite as talkative, and he hadn’t thought anything of it at the time. But now…

He rises abruptly, and goes to look for you.

When he finds the door to your room closed, he doesn’t bother knocking. Simply lets himself inside, his stomach twisting uneasily when he sees the light is off and you’re still in bed, the comforter clutched tightly around you.

You’re awake, though—you stir when you hear him come in, glancing at the clock next to your bed and grimacing when you see how late it is. You hadn’t realized you’d been lying here so long, trying and failing to work up the will to rise.

The mattress dips beside you, and then you’re blinking rapidly as the light clicks on.

“What’s wrong?” Tomura asks, and you shrug.

“I dunno.” You do know, at least sort of, but it’s hard to articulate. Hard to explain how this just happens sometimes, a feeling as though all the energy has been sucked out of you.

A cool palm presses against your forehead. “Are you sick?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I just don’t feel good.”

Tomura chews at the inside of his cheek. He can tell by your expression that something is wrong—you’re a little paler than usual, and your smile is tight. But he’s less concerned with what the problem is, and more concerned with what you need. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to bug you,” you mumble, curling in a little tighter on yourself, and you see the way his lips press into a tight line at that. Then he’s rising, disappearing from the room only to return moments later with his Switch in his hands.

He hands you yours from where it was resting on your desk. “Let’s play Animal Crossing.”

“Really?” you ask, struggling to sit up a little. Normally you have to plead a little to get him to play with you—he tends to prefer more action-oriented games and claims to get bored—but this time he only nods.

The knot that had been forming in his stomach eases slightly when your smile widens, looking less forced, and he drops onto the bed next to you, tugging you to his side. You tip your head up to kiss his cheek before cuddling in a little closer, and then two of you spend the next couple of hours like that, playing together quietly.

Tomura finds himself distracted though, constantly sneaking glances at you from the corner of his eye to see if this is helping. He thinks it is—that contented smile remains on your face, and you don’t look quite as tired when you finally set your console down, stretching a little and announcing that you need a break.

He sets his own aside. “What do you want to do now?”

“I’m not sure,” you say, chewing at your lip. “Don’t you have to get back to work?” He’s been busy you know, and you feel bad for distracting him, but he looks irritated at the suggestion.

“No,” he says flatly, and you feel a little flutter of warmth at his insistence on staying by your side. You lean up to kiss him, your hands clutching at his shirt and a small sigh escaping you at the feel of his lips pressing against your own. When you pull away, his expression has shifted, a bright gleam in his crimson eyes. Then he’s shifting you beneath him, his fingertips creeping up your thigh as he kisses you again, murmuring softly against your lips. 

“Maybe there’s something else we can do that will make you feel better.”

[youryanderedaddy]

Lady Luck (pt. 1)

I was so hyped to write this lol. Heavily inspired by Kaiji <3

Tw: mafia mention, unrealistic potrayal of mafia, mentions of threats, implied obssessive behavior (will get more hardcore in the second part tho), mentions of gambling, kidnapping /not reader/

 You knew that you were a scum, a lowlife, a miserable loser without much hope in life - that’s exactly why you had no problem joining the deadliest underground paradise and following under the steps of the Lucciano family. They controlled everything - the casinos, the drugs, the guns, the whores, you name it - they provided it. And you had nothing - neither a past, nor a future. But everything changed when the oldest son Thomas decided to help you get out of the mud and step onto your legs - he gave you a home, a friend to return to, a shoulder to cry on when reality felt too painful and harsh, just too much to bear on your own. “Why would you do that for a stranger?” You had asked him once while tipsy, sitting by the hearth, a slight blush adorning your soft cheeks. “That’s easy.” The man had responded right away without giving it much thought. “You remind me of myself.”

 You spent long nights thinking about his words but never came to a conclusion - he was born into a powerful, wealty family, so it made no sense for him to have experienced rock bottom the way you had. And his small black eyes displayed such a variety of terryfing emotions - bloodlust, greed, sin and so much sadness. Why would a monster ever feel scared, you wondered. 

 Working for the Luccianos wasn’t especially hard or even dangerous - you ran small errands for them, took care of the younger kids, helped with insignificant deals, acted as a croupier when their staff was sick or missing or had to be taken care of, but one thing you were thankful for was how they never tried to force you into doing something you would never be able to forgive yourself for. Thomas was kind to you -  always so considerate, willing to listen, to understand how you felt even when the worlds you two lived in differed so greatly. He was supposed to be villain of the story, big and scary, demanding, taking whatever he wants without asking and never feeling an ounce of regret about it. And for a while, you were suspicous of the man’s every move - you were desperately waiting for the mobster to fuck up and show his true colours so you could let yourself hate him, despise him. And yet the sweet, sweet moment of revelation never came. You knew, of course, of the many evil deeds the criminal bestowed upon thousands of innocent people each and every day, but you never witnessed it with your own eyes and when the man was treating you like a part of his family, holding you close and giving you chance after chance to prove yourself, it was slowly getting impossible to view him as the bad guy. Perhaps you should have waited just a little longer.

 It happened during a warm, spring day. You didn’t expect it, you couldn’t. You had just finished your shift at midnight in the small shop you worked in, which belonged to Thomas’ mother, and were heading to the Lucciano mansion. It had been a particularly long and exhausting day, so you wanted nothing more than to feel the soft, silky, white sheets down your half-naked body while the quiet classical music took you to dream land and back. But upon opening the heavy wooden door, you quickly noticed something was different - there was no music, the big black TV in the middle of the hall was set to camera mode instead of the normal one, and it was awfully quiet. “They must have had to leave the country for a while.” You rationalised. “It has happened before after all.” You kept reassuring yourself while taking a tiny step towards the centre of the room where light was the strongest - it could uncover every hidden little detail.

 And then the TV was turned on. You shifted your gaze up, paranoia eating at you from inside out. Soon there was clear image on the massive screen, but what you saw left you speechless. There were hours of footage from your personal life - working, hanging out with friends, eating, bathing. What made the shivers down your spine run cold was a scene where a guy, your boyfriend, was kissing you, touching you, undressing you with his praying eyes. It was nothing unusual for a young woman to have a love life, but this broke the only rule Thomas had told you upon entering the house - you were forbidden from having close relationships with men, especially dangerous ones, and for the longest time, you had no issue living by that as long as you came back to the luxury and warmth the mobster provided for you. Until you met him - a charming, clever member of a local gang. You knew it was wrong and could cost you more than you were willing to sacrifice and yet you still gave in. It was your first time experiencing the highs and lows of love, so who could blame you when it was such a magical feeling, a mixture of adrenaline and opium. Alex made you feel like a real human being instead of someone just existing, leeching off the stronger, wealthier species.

 There was a shadow moving out from the corner, playing into your delusions. But soon enough you realised it was all a reality as none other than Thomas walked slowly towards you, clapping his hands dramatically, a sly smirk on his beautiful, scarred face. Did he...

 "Congratulations." The man started off, dark eyes set on you, slowly coming closer and closer like a big black hole, ready to swallow you whole. "You went and got yourself a little boy - toy." The criminal chuckled viciously under his breath, making you cringe at the crude nickname he used. The situation felt surreal and yet the fear and panic were already suffocating you, making you dizzy wish regret. "I wish you would have told me though... I never thought someone I hold so important would lie to me." The mobster kept rambling, waving his arms in the air theatrically, while holding a lit cigarette, but never moving it to his lips - it was just a prop, a way to create a thick smoke mist in your eyes. It was finally the hour of judgement.

 "What do you want?" You asked, faking confidence, desperate to take control of what was happening. It was a bizarre thing to see your dearest friend act in such a eerie, frightening way, almost treating you like one of his victims - nothing more than an indebted bastard or an unfortunate bystander, unlucky enough to catch a deal unfolding right behind the scenes. It hurt but you had forced this upon yourself and you had to fix it.

 "Nothing much, really." Thomas replied, finally inhaling the deadly smoke into his open mouth. He played with his collar for a while, as if you weren't standing there, scared for your life. "I just want to teach you a lesson in obedience, doll." The mafioso continued, circling you slowly, his heavy gaze never leaving your body. You felt awfully exposed even when all your clothes were present, covering every inch of your skin. With a swift snap of his fingers, the man summoned most of the gorillas that worked under him. Two of them were dragging your kicking, screaming boyfriend towards the centre of the room, but a quick punch in the guts managed to quiet him down. He looked terrified, his face bloody and injured, covered in dust and misery. But he was still alive and only that mattered to you.

 "I wanted to make this entertaining for all of us." The oldest Lucciano spoke out, his husky voice echoing trough the golden ceiling. He moved over to your lover and harshly pressed the cigarette butt against the exposed skin of his unprotected arm. The man cried out in pain, silently pleading you to help with his big, terrified eyes. And here you were, as helpess as he was - if not even more. "So I decided to initiate a little gamble of sorts, ya know?" Thomas winked at you, smiling with malice. You couldn't help, but recall all the times you two had played poker together, betting less than pocket change. You never understood why the man always got so excited despite winning such small sums, especially when his casinos already did well. But now you could see it clearly - he got off crushing his opponent, taking the victory under their noses. Money meant nothing. As long as he was able to ruin your mood, your life, the man was pleased.

 Soft white light lit up the furthest corners of the hall and you saw dozen square boxes, arranged in a circle. It looked harmless enough on its own, still they were stamped with Thomas’ symbol - a dove. You used to wonder why someone in the most dangerous depts of mafia would choose such an innocent, sweet signature pf representation and now the answer was right in front of you - that way it was easier to trick the enemy into thinking they were safe. And how wrong were they. 

 “As you can see, there are nine wooden boxes in total. They look exactly the same and on top of each one there is a hole.” Thomas stopped to point at them, the raw anticipation flooding his otherwise dull pupils. “Six of the boxes are empty. In the other three though, there are placed some of the most poisonous snakes in the world. One bite and you are dead.” The madman gave a loud, breathy laugh while your boyfriend squirmed uncomfortably in place, restrained by the strong arms, holding him down. “Both of you will take four turns putting your hand in the boxes. After every round the box would be closed off and you would be able to choose only from the remaining ones. ” The mobster grinned widely, looking at your horrified expression. You couldn’t believe that the man was willing to put your lives on the line simply because you had neglected one of his orders. “Now you may be wondering where the suspence is - after all you would probaby manage to hear the hissing from afar and avoid the place it comes from. Rest assured, my foolish little friends. Right now the snakes are heavily intoxicated and absolutely silent - which doesn’t mean, of course, that they won’t attack any soft flesh they see. If you die, that’s on you, but if you survive, you will be rewarded.” Thomas clapped his hands together and his man let go of your lover, resulting in his falling to the ground with a heavy bang. Thomas pursed his lips together.

 “Shall we get started?”

[beigehearts]

So I'm not sure if you're comfortable writing for these kinds of things so if you aren't then you can just ignore this.

You can write it with Hisoka, Chrollo, Illumi, one or all of them I don't mind (preferably Hisoka)

But I've got issues with eating, not a full out eating disorder (at least not that I know of, I haven't been to a doctor for it) but I find it intimidating to eat full meals, and I normally only eat a couple things daily. Maybe an apple here and an orange for later.

And because of that I've sworn off having kids until I can get it under control (its been 4 years and doesn't seem to get better, I just keep losing weight) last time I weighed myself I was 112 which is getting pretty close to underweight for my height and age.

So could you please do a trio (or individual) x fem reader where she's been bullied about her weight by her mom and peers and has a hard time eating, and because of that she doesn't want to get pregnant and risk having a baby born premature or extremely unhealthy, or die. But somehow she manages to get pregnant (maybe failed contraceptives) so Hisoka/Illumi/Chrollo tries helping her get better about eating. Setting timers and having thought out meals for the day that includes all the food groups needed.

I've always been told to eat more or that all I ever eat is junk food but I'm not fat, I'm not extremely skinny, I just wish there would've been somebody telling me that everything would be fine and help me through it. Nobody has yet though, everybodys first reaction to me saying I rarely eat is that I should eat more when I literally cannot force myself to do so.

I really do apologize for this being long, and if you don't write this I can always find somebody else.

No I completely understand! I’ve struggled with my eating in the past and I sympathize. I know that hearing “just eat” and what not doesn’t help and I know it’s hard- but all you can do is try your hardest to get better- the journey is just as important as the result I’m more than happy to do this request- I really appreciate it because I’ve been wanting to do something like this for a while. I tried to get this done asap because I feel like its important I really hope you like it!!

Alright let’s get started lads fem!reader CW: eating disorder, pregnancy

Illumi

It’s been days since you had your last meal. As his future wife and a future mother it has worried him sick. And at some points you wonder if he’s only concerned about the baby. You’ve been on birth control for months after having a long talk with Illumi that children would need to wait a bit until you have yourself under control. He’s been acting strangely, he’s been pacing which he has never done before, and snapping at his brothers, sister, and mother.

You sit on the balcony, a heavy rain pounding down, the awning above you barely protecting you. You look into the distance and rub your belly, as if trying to wish away the baby. It’s not that you don’t want children, you really do, and you also want to for Illumi’s sake. But it’s not time. You’re not ready. Your body is too frail and your hips cannot hold a child. The mere thought of something going wrong with your precious baby, is enough to make you sick. You’ve been brewing in bad thoughts for days since you found out- but this isn’t time to sulk...

Illumi opens the sliding door to the balcony, staring at you for a long while before sitting on the ground next to your chair. He grabs your hand on your belly and rubs it gently- with so much affection you feel like he’s a different person.

“Y/n.” He looks up at you with his big, dark eyes. “It’s scary.” He pauses, being unusually sensitive. “I can’t wait for the baby. But I need you right now.” He seems very out of his element, he’s not exactly the type to share his emotions. Though he can tell he needs to put himself aside for the well being of his future wife and future child. “We’re going to get through this together.” He nods to himself, and places his cheek on your hand, “You don’t have to do this alone. You have me now. I apologize that I have not been doing my best for you- but we’ll do it.”

He stands up, bringing you with him, pressing you against his chest. He holds your head against him, then pats your head gently. “We’ll set a schedule. We’ll eat together at every meal. I promise to be here now.” He begins playing with your hair and wraps an arm around your waist, “It’ll be just like training.”

You tilt your head up to him and frown at the training part.

He stutters and says, “No, it’ll be a process.” A sign of small smile makes it’s way onto his face, “Our baby will be just fine.”  

Illumi has never shown you such a sensitive side of him and you begin to wonder if he’s gone through this too. Either way, his comforting head pats and warm chest are enough for you in this moment.

Hisoka

Sometimes your boyfriend could be just so oblivious. He always cares and pays attention to you but sometimes things go over his head. He equates your morning sickness which is just dry heaving with being dehydrated. Though maybe telling him would just make it easier. You’ve been telling Hisoka that you want to get better. You’re tired of this burden on you constantly. Tired of food looking like poison. He’s done his best to help you. Though he’s somewhat lost in how to do so.

He loves you dearly and honestly how much he loves you sometimes scares you. You try not to think about what lengths he’s gone for you.

Hisoka is laying in bed, shuffling cards and twirling them on his finger.  He’s quite good with his hands. Quiet music plays from the radio- some new hip hop hit. He averts his eyes from his cards, to look at you. It’s been a month and it’s about time he knows why your belly has a small bulge- it not being from you eating better or more.

You spit it out- wasting no time and getting to the point. “I’m pregnant.” You close your eyes, as if scared he’s gonna lash out or break something. But none of that happens, it’s silence.

You peek one eye open to see him doe eyed, caught in head lights. The cards fall out of his hands. He clears his throat and fixes his face, “Come here baby.” You obey him and sit down next to him on the bed, he pulls you onto his lap and holds your face in his hands.

“I wish you told me sooner. I could have prepared.”

Eyes begin swelling in your eyes and he once again looks stunned. You burst into tears and hold onto his shirt, nuzzling your head into his neck. Through broken sobs you manage to say, “I’m no good as a mother. I can’t take care of it! I’m no good Hisoka- what if I kill it? I’m no good.” Sobs rack your body, leaving your trembling against his own body.

Hands grab your shoulders and he pushes you up, then wipes the tears from your face. “You’re perfect to hold a baby. What is it you’re worried about?”

You begin to hyperventilate after you have no more tears to cry. Through each breath you gasp out, “I’m... too... small... what if... I have a...” At the mere thought of your next words your heart begins pounding, “Miscarriage?” You let out one last sob of a word, “I can’t feed me and my baby...”

He shushes you and pushes some hair behind your ear, “Oh honey. You’ve been working so hard on getting better. You’re sick and that’s okay. We just have to work harder? Right?”

Nodding but you still can’t control your breathing, he says, “Come on take a deep breath.” Listening to his directions you do. “It’s gonna be alright. You’ll be a great mother. You work so hard. We just have to keep pushing.”

You nod, and collapse against his chest and whisper, “Is the baby going to be okay?”

“Yes, and so will you.”

Chrollo

Once the both of you found out you were pregnant, it was pure confusion. You were taking contraceptives and Chrollo knows how much you don’t want a baby right now. It was a long conversation you had when you got contraceptives. Despite wanting a child, he wanted nothing more than you to be happy and healthy. It’s been months, four months to be precise. You lost 3 pounds in that time no matter what you did. You just couldn’t make yourself eat and when you did you felt terrible, guilty.

It was mealtime, all though you haven’t eaten at mealtime in weeks, Chrollo keeps trying. He made a light salad, with tomatoes and olives, that’s all. He knows how the sight of big meals only discourages you.

He steps around the table with a small plate in his hand, and sets it in front of you. A small plate with a few bites of salad. It should be easy. But it’s not. He kisses your forehead and sits on the other side of the table. A candle is lit and a single rose is in a vase. He tries to make every meal seem like a feast but lacking the food. He has a normal size bowl full of salad and he smiles at you from across the table.

“Time to eat.” He takes a bite of his salad- not pressuring you in any way to eat. The plate itself is enough pressure. You pick up the fork like you’ve practiced so many times and stare at the green leaves beneath you. The fork picks up a single leaf and you bring it to your mouth, opening and hesitantly placing it inside. Chewing is almost the worst part- but the worst part is swallowing. You swallow the leaf and look up at Chrollo. You can tell he’s trying to mask his excitement as not to overwhelm you.

The most you manage is another six single leaves, and a single, half cut cherry tomato.

You look up to him once again, shame taking over you, “That’s all I can do...”

His eyes go wide and you wonder if he’s upset that you didn’t keep going. Instead he leaps out of his chair and around the table. He picks you up into his arms and spins you around while laughing. He gently places you back down on the floor and can’t contain his smile.

“Oh darling you’re doing so great. I’m so proud of you.” Tears being to prick at your eyes when hearing his words, “You’re so good, let’s try again tomorrow okay?”

He squeezes you tightly and shakes you side to side, “You’re just so wonderful. I’m so proud.” No one has ever said they’re proud of you besides him. It’s such a blissful sound to your ears.

[fkingsteverogers]

Miss Americana and The Heartbreak Prince

I don’t know what the fuck this is, but here it is.

How to court a girl in the 21st century

What is a tinder? 

Do men and women still go steady?

What to do when you sleep with your best friend’s widow?

Google, or whatever the fuck it was called, had been exactly no help in figuring what the fuck to do about sleeping with you. Had that been considered sleeping together? As Bucky remembered it, when he allowed himself to think about it, sleeping together had involved a lot more than you rocking on his lap, looking like heaven come down to meet him. After, you’d looked up at him with those big eyes and he’d have given you just about anything. If you’d asked for the moon, he would’ve personally delivered it to you no questions asked. 

You hadn’t asked for the moon, you hadn’t asked for anything. You’d grinned shyly and disappeared into your bedroom. In the past, he would’ve followed, would’ve shown you exactly what making love with him was like. Instead he just watches you go, painfully hard. He corners you the next day, pinning you against the counter and kissing you like a man starved of oxygen taking his first full breath. 

“‘M gonna court you, make you mine.” 

It’s a promise, the way he says it. He’s promising you he’s going to court you, promising that you’re going to be his. You want to believe him. (He wants to believe himself.)

Sam is no help, he suggests Google then refuses to help Bucky figure out how to use Google. It’s the guard at the front door, a pretty young woman with blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, that finally helps him out. He’s shocked to find an article from Cosmopolitan. His mom and aunties used to read it religiously. It’s comforting when he finds things that remind him of his past. So many things are gone, lost to time. The alley where he and Steve met in is now a road. The building where he enlisted, demolished. It’s a special kind of yearning, one he can’t share with anyone else now that Steve is gone. 

A little voice in his head tells him that maybe he could share it with you, you who understands what it’s like to be with someone who was yanked out of time. But being with Steve and being with him are completely different. Steve was good, Steve didn’t have blood on his hands. His thoughts spiral until he’s forced to go for a run, sprinting until all he can feel is the ache in his lungs and all thoughts have dissolved into the rhythm of running. 

It’s a nice evening, the flowers in front of the safe house (who tended to those?) are blooming, filling the air with a sweet, floral scent that reminds him of the spring before he shipped off.  It’s a brutally hot summer, a brutally hot evening, too hot for the fifty fans in the house to cool anyone off. In their infinite wisdom, the geniuses at the State Department had decided on a safe house without air conditioning. Someone with more than two brain cells had thought to provide an inflatable pool to at least pretend to cool off in.

It’s not unusual to see you relaxing in the pool in the evenings, drink in hand. It’d become part of your nightly routine to relax in an attempt to get cool enough to get some sleep so he’s not surprised when he first sees you outside. But when he really gets a look at you, his brain short circuits. There’s a white noise buzzing in his ears and if someone had asked him his name at that moment, he probably would have said Steve Rogers.  You’re relaxing in the pool topless, your breasts on display. If he’d known you were topless, Bucky would’ve turned and walked back to New York, probably further. His mother had done her best to teach him manners. Those manners did not include spying on pretty women who were bathing topless. Bucky wants to look away, knows he should look away, but he can’t. His eyes are glued to you. He’d seen tits before, had even held them and worshipped them. 

None were as beautiful as yours, bathed in the glow of the soft evening pinks. 

Your face is utterly relaxed, upturned towards the sky to catch the last rays of the dying light. You’re prettiest like this, looking so relaxed. You deserve to be this relaxed all the time, to never have to worry about assholes like John Walker. 

You open an eye, probably feeling his staring, and shatter the moment. You start, your tits bouncing a little in the water before sinking down in an attempt to cover yourself. There isn’t enough water to cover anything, mortifying you both. 

“I’ll...I should…” Bucky turns and motions towards the house, a blush creeping up his cheeks. He’ll go back inside and you’ll never talk about this. You’ll never mention that he saw you topless in the yard and the awkward tension will continue until one of you dies. Probably you, Bucky was too stubborn to die. Instead, you stand, revealing everything to him. 

“You don’t have to go, James.” 

His head whips around when you call him James. It sounds pretty on your lips, makes him feel like a different person, like he isn’t the piece of shit he is. It makes him think about the last time you’d called him James. “I really do. I don’t think…” You’re walking towards him, still wet from your time in the pool. (That weird static noise is back in his brain, is he having a stroke? Can super soldiers have a stroke? He is 104.) You’re standing in front of him now and he’s aching to reach out and touch your skin. It’s probably soft and smooth, beautiful just like you. Images of you in his bed, your back arched in pleasure flash through his mind. He remembers how pretty you looked when you were rocking on his thigh, taking your pleasure. 

Bucky wants more than anything to reach out and touch you, to pull you flush against his chest and kiss the living daylights out of you. That’s what he would’ve done before, before he went to war and everything changed. But he’s trying to be better, to actually court you instead of just take you into his bed. Instead, he hands you the towel on the lounge chair so you can cover yourself. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you, my bad.” 

Things are awkward for a few days after. Sam laughs like the asshole he is when he hears the story. “Man, you just gave her a towel and left? You’ve got no game!” Torres defends him, says it was the sweet thing to do. You avoid him. 

Before he can figure out how to make it up, you’re released back to your homes. Sam goes back to Louisiana, Torres is needed back on the base, and you disappear back to your life. Bucky goes home and tries to figure out how he’s supposed to woo you. He settles on flowers. Women like flowers. 

You’re elbow deep in paperwork when Bucky shows up with flowers. You welcome him into the apartment, invite him to eat dinner with you. It’s a quiet moment when you start talking about you and Steve.  

“He was late to our wedding, did you know that? He got sidetracked helping someone and it made him late. I thought he stood me up. Then he showed up and we got married and...I suppose you know that rest.” 

You look destroyed as you take another sip of your drink. Bucky wants to pull you into his chest and make sure you never cry again. He wants to take care of you. He wants to punch Steve for ever making you feel like this. 

“I’m not even mad he left anymore, I just wish he would’ve told me. I could’ve understood it if he had just told me about it. I came home to a note. A fucking note.” You sniffle angrily and stand abruptly. “No sense crying, ‘m gonna clean up.” Bucky stands as you do, almost overturning the table. Suddenly, he feels too large and too awkward to comfort you. He’s nothing like Steve, the husband you still missed. Steve would know exactly what to do right now. 

“I’m sor--” 

You turn on him before he can even get the words out, eyes blazing. You’re suddenly angry and it makes you look beautiful. “For fuck’s sake, Bucky! Don’t! I’m so fucking sick of talking about Steve and everyone apologizing! Everyone looks at me like I’m some broken woman because Steve left. I’m not broken, he didn’t break me! Then you showed up and and it finally felt like there would be someone there for me! But you left, just like he did! One moment we’re practically sleeping together and the next, you’re blowing me off. Pick one, Bucky!” 

You stare at each other, both surprised by your outburst. 

“I didn’t leave--” You open your mouth to protest and he holds up a hand, stopping you. “Let me finish. I didn’t leave because I wanted to or I didn’t like you. I got nervous. I haven’t done this in--it’s been awhile. And you’re so beautiful, I didn’t know what to do. I still don’t know what to do. You’re so good, and I’m not.” You surge forward at his lame finish, cupping his face in your hands. His stubble scratches against your palm as you gaze into his eyes. “Don’t say that, James. You’re one of the best people I know. You’re good. The things they made your body do are not things you did. I love you, James.” 

Your words hang in the air between you. You want to grab them out of the air and take them back. You want to unsay them. 

“You can’t love me. Loving me is dangerous.”

“I think I should be able to make that choice for myself.” 

He gives you a long, hard look. Finally, he relents, sighs, and pulls you into his chest. “God help us.”

[archangeldraws]

Reunion- Part two

A King Ghidorah fanfiction

Doraut AU

The human crew watches in awe and shock, as all of Ghidorah's heads lean towards their ship and look closely at the woman standing on the railing. She stretches an arm out, placing her hand on the beast's snout and smiles, tears streaking her face. She didn't look scared. Happy even. It was as if seeing a mother being reunited with her lost child. The thought itself was just absurd. How could a human be so happy to get this close to Monster Zero? That thing killed so many people, tried to take over the world, controlled other Titans and ordered them to destroy everything in their path. He even tried to kill Godzilla and died at his hand. Then some insane rich maniacs used his leftover parts to built a robot, again to kill Godzilla and that thing came back to life! How could this strange woman, who they'd only know for a few months and didn't know about any of the things that happened in the last 10 years be so eager to meet this murderous being?!

King Ghidorah studies the little being in front of him, as if he'd never seen a human before. The fact he's just been standing there for minutes, staring down at them and hadn't attacked yet was a miracle in on itself. Usually, and everyone knew it, Ghidorah attacks on sight. Usually, there was no hesitation. But this time the dragon seems unsure on what to do. The middle head's tongue snakes out, tasting the air. It was as if the woman and the beast were talking, without using words. She had explained to them before, that she could communicate with Ghidorah via telepathy since she was a child. And it.... It used to be her pet. What a strange thought. How could this being have ever been someone's pet? It's been on this world, encased in ice for 20.000 years and she says she was Ghidorah's old master and came from the future, 1.000 years from now. This doesn't make ANY sense!

Someone screams as Monster Zero's tongue lashes forwards, wrapping around the woman and picking her up. For a second they think it's trying to swallow her and they raise their weapons, ready to shoot. But it doesn't. It just... turns around and casually walks back to the mountain it came from. It didn't attack them, just... Took the woman and left. That's.... weird. “Should.... Should we do something, Sir?” A soldier turns to his commander, waiting for orders. The man that was his superior shakes his head. “No. She asked us not to do anything if we aren't in danger. Even if it killed her, we are not to engage. She wanted this. Monarch's orders.” Everyone on board stood still, not daring to move just yet. No one has every gotten this close to Monster Zero and lived to tell the tale. It's behavior was very unusual. They have to report this. In their fear they didn't even notice the rumble that came from the left head. A low grumbling sound from deep within it's throat. Like a purr.

Ghidorah leaves the ship behind. Ni thought if thrashing it with a tail, but Ichi decided against it. “Leave it be.”, he told his brother. He moves back up the mountain, back into their cave. He lays down, the middle head bending down to carefully release the tiny being wrapped in his tongue and looks at her with his usual emotionless expression. San was shaking with excitement. He wanted to dash forward and headbutt the human. Like he used to as a Dorat. Some old habits are hard to kill. But he restrains himself. Because now his happy greeting would crush her to mush, if he did so. “Explain yourself. How are you here?” Ni squints his eyes at the woman, not sure if he should be happy or angry. He decided on angry. “How are you still alive? We thought you died a long time ago. If you've been alive this whole time, why didn't you come sooner?! WHY?!” Ni roars, angry and hurt. Eva sighs, collecting herself and stands up straight. “I know you're angry and confused. I will explain everything. Things are not as you think.” “HOW DO YOU KNOW WHAT WE THINK?! YOU GAVE UP ON US! YOU ABANDONED US!!” “Ni, please. I didn't abandon you! Let me explain.” “EXCUSES!” “Brother, calm down! Let her talk. We'll decide what to do, after.” Ichi towers over Ni, looking down on his brother in a dominating manner. He's telling him to stay quiet. Ni huffs, seething with anger but he bends down submissively. For now.

After taking in a deep breath, Eva sits down on the ground. “Do you still remember the day everything changed? When they took you from me? It was horrible. I still remember the looks on your faces as my parents handed you over, just like that. They sold you. They didn't know what they wanted with you, but they didn't really ask either. All we knew was, that the government needed you to 'help mankind', but I didn't buy it. Why would they need Dorats to help mankind? Dorats were just pets, like cats or dogs. I didn't understand. I was just a child.... But I did promise I would come for you. And I kept my promise. Since that day I have been working hard to get you back. I studied hard in school, helped in charities and got in contact with activists. Anything that could have something to do with the government and Dorats. Over the years I managed to find my way to different kinds of people, until I ended up with a rebel group. We had some things in common. Like me they knew something was up, something bad. That our country's leaders were keeping secrets and doing things that were more than illegal. Like me... They had lost their Dorats. I figured out there was a pattern. All the Dorats that were taken had strong psychic abilities. So we collected more information, as discretely as we could. Some of them had connections. We found out that there was a secret lab, hidden down below Mount Fuji. We heard of terrible experiments going on there. That they were working on a biological weapon to take out Godzilla. That was their plan. They wanted to create a titan, one that was stronger than the king of the monsters, to take his place. A new king. One they could control. That's why they chose Dorats for their experiments. Because, unlike other animals, Dorats were a man made being, one that was more intelligent and easy to control through it's mind. Project: King Ghidorah.”

“How did you know we were still alive?” San snakes closer, looking sad. The information they were getting was very different to what they knew. Not that they knew much. The memories of their abuse was pushed back as far as possible, not wanting to remember what had been done to them. Then again, there were many blackouts in their memory.

“Like I said, the other rebels too, had lost their beloved Dorats. But the difference between them and you was, after some time, they had received their Dorats back. In urns....” she chuckles, though not in an amused way. “Those sick bastards. After their experiments failed, they burned the bodies and send their ashes back to their owners. So they could 'mourn' them. I never received yours. So I was clinging to the hope that you were still alive. Even years later. But.... There have been days I wished I would wake up to seeing three little urns standing on my dresser. Then you wouldn't be in pain anymore...” She coughs, rubbing some tears from her face. “I've been working with the rebel group secretly for about 2 years, taking on some Taekwan do classes, learning how to use a weapon, how to work computers... I was getting ready to come and get you. We managed to get some connections within the secret facilities. People who, like us, knew that this was wrong. And people who had changed their minds and sided with us. We snuck in. We thought we were prepared. And we were too proud. I lost many good friends that day. They either died or were taken.... I'm not proud of the things I've done. I left them behind and just kept on pushing forward. I was so determined on getting to you, I lost a bit of myself on the way... When I finally reached you... I didn't know what to think. You were no longer my three little boys, but instead.... A monster.”

Eva looks up to face Ghidorah once more, trying to read their faces. San looks sad. Ichi looks unmoved. But there was a glint in his eye. If he was feeling anything, he was hiding it very well. Ni... Ni always wore his anger on his sleeve. And now it wasn't any different. “Monster... Yes. Nothing we haven't heard before.” Ichi frowns a little. As if hearing that word come from her mouth actually hurt, for once. “We.... We don't remember any of this... You came for us? Why can't we remember seeing you?” San wore a strained look on his face, as if trying hard to remember something, searching his mind for anything. But there was nothing. “You can't remember because... You weren't there. Your body was, but your minds were.... trapped, or something. It was as if you were a zombie. I shouted your names. I touched you. I even kicked and punched you, just to get any kind of reaction! But there was nothing. Your eyes were so lifeless... When I found you... You were in some kind of underground enclosure. A prison, really. Chained down in every way possible, so you wouldn't be able to even move an inch. Not that you could anyway. When my touch and my voice couldn't reach you, I tried feeling for your minds. But they were just as empty as your eyes. But still, I knew you were still in there, somewhere. I could feel it! I tried to free you, releasing all those chains, but I didn't have enough time. Some of the scientists found me and attacked me. In the middle of our fight we somehow... activated something. I hadn't noticed it before, but they had managed to, I don't know how... Create a time portal. And that thing was big. Big enough for you to fit.” “A time portal? For what?” Ichi looks at her as if she was an alien, saying she was coming in peace. “That's the thing. They wanted you to kill Godzilla and take his place as the new alpha titan. But you weren't strong enough to take him on just yet. So they had the brilliant idea to send you back in time and kill him when he was younger and weaker. And then to use you to control all the titans and become the strongest power on the whole planet. But before they could get you ready, I destroyed their plans. In our struggle, the last of your restrains came lose and you were sucked into the portal.... Ichi, Ni, San... You were send back in time, 20.000 years from now. But we, you and I, were originally from the time 3025... We actually come from the future.”

It seems like those news actually shocked the golden demise, as Ghidorah sits down, taking all of this in. “Then.... How are YOU here?” Ni asks, looking tired from too much information. “I got sucked in as well. But the portal was unstable and kept changing its time settings and coordinates every few seconds. So I actually landed here a few months ago. We left at the same time, but now there is a time difference of 20.000 years between us. It's unbelievable that after so long, you are still alive! I almost gave up on finding you again. When they told me Godzilla destroyed you.... And how your brain was used for a robot... And how you came back to life. I-... I couldn't believe it, really. But here you are! And we can talk again! Our link is still there... I'm-.... I'm so happy to see you.” Eva chokes on her words, tears swelling up in her eyes again. “To hear your voices after all those years, it's like a dream. And I hope I never wake up from this!” “You... You're not scared of us?” San leans down, sniffing her. “I could never be scared of you.” “We could kill you, you know. We are no longer those Dorats you knew. We are no ones pet. We are KING Ghidorah!” Ichi says this, in a matter of facts. “I know... I know you could. And I came prepared. If you want me dead, you can kill me. I don't mind. I just wanted to see you, one last time.” Her voice is shaking. Not from fear, but from happiness. Happy to see them. King Ghidorah, Monster Zero, the golden demise, the one that is many. King Killer. Ichi, Ni and San. She sits before them, ready to receive death. She's happy, now that she got what she wanted. Seeing them, talking to them. Letting them know that her love for them was so strong, that she is willing to die at their claws if it makes them happy.

Ghidorah lies down on the ground, placing his three heads in front of the human before them. “Know this. If you leave us again, then we WILL kill you. Understood?” Eva looks up at Ichi. Even though he just threatened her, he didn't say it with as much malice as he normally would. He even smirked a little. “You better stay. Or WE will come find you this time!” Ni snarls, but the sound that came from him was more a purr than a growl. “We missed you.” San licked her carefully and purred even louder.

A few hours later, the ship was still there, the crew watched Ghidorah emerge from his cave again and approaching them. Did he kill her after all? Is he coming for them next? King Ghidorah growls at them, but the middle head reaches down once more. On his head? The woman. And she looks very much alive. She waves and shouts at them. “Thank you for helping me! I'll be staying here now. But maybe you can do me another favor? I'll be needing some necessities. Food, clothes, shelter and all that. You got a tent on there somewhere?”

What a strange request. A human, living among Kaiju? No human was ever allowed to step foot on this island. But this was good. With Eva living on Monster Island and with Ghidorah as her protector, they could study them even better. What's the cost of food, clothing and some electronics and everything she asks for in return for such valuable information? She even promised to help them study Ghidorah more, if he doesn't kill her. As long as they swear not to harm him in any way or use the information against him. So they hook her up with everything she needs. They built a new Monarch outpost near the island, nothing too big and send a small boat towards the island once a week to bring their new 'co-worker' everything she needs. At first she got a big tent that was placed inside the cave. Then Ghidorah allowed some humans to bring containers, to make a makeshift house inside his cave, so Eva could be warm during winter. But they were still cautious. They learned pretty quickly that Monster Zero only allows them near him as long as Eva was there as well. If she wasn't, he would revert back to his old behavior and attack any human vessel coming closer. But they can work with that. And the things they learned was important to them, to understand titans and help the world understand and live with them peacefully. Especially the weekly reports they received from Eva about what Ghidorah was up to, how he interacted with other titans, even Godzilla himself. Which they noticed, would apparently come and check up on the dragon. They learned that Godzilla seemed very surprised to find a human with Ghidorah. Eva also managed to snap some really interesting photos on that island. Of kaiju sub-species they haven't seen before and even selfies with Ghidorah AND Godzilla in the background. Even better when she send them photos of Rodan, who came to visit and Mothra as well. Knowing titans act so human like to visit each other and talk like friends was just... funny.

Read part 1 here- https://archangeldraws.tumblr.com/post/649687984452648960/reunion

(Eva is my human OC)

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