#16. “you'd know that even though i'm not smiling you made me feel things i didn't know before”

[b38rman]

SLOW MOTION, DOUBLE-VISION ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡☾ ﾟ｡⋆ Ollie Bearman

tags - ollie bearman x afab!reader, childhood friends to lovers, reader is in uni, light angst, eventual smut (with feelings), explicit sexual content

synopsis - No matter how many years passed by, it was glaringly obvious that you would never admit to yourself that you’d always wished for Ollie to be the one for you. It was hard back then, and it was even harder now. (OR: Your head knew that your childhood best friend would never be the one for you. Your heart just hadn’t realized it yet.)

rating - explicit

warnings - 18+ minors dni, slight angst (a little bit of arguing), explicit sexual content, unprotected sex

a/n - very obviously inspired by gold rush by taylor swift. ollie IS gold rush to me. highly recommend listening to it while thinking of him.

Whenever Ollie ran, you would chase him. Whether it was through his garden, between classrooms, or around your dinner table, you'd been doing it ever since you could remember. 

That was until he ran far, far away from you to Italy—of course you wouldn't follow (no matter how badly you wanted to.)

It was amidst this chase when you realized that no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop longing for him. You'd known this since you were 12 years old, when he grinned from the pew next to you as he caught you falling asleep during a church sermon. After that, you couldn't stop realizing the squeeze in your chest when you made him laugh, or the way he'd look at you at the end of a karting race, and how he'd thank you on those days like your company meant more than the accolades he was collecting. 

At 16 and 17, when he'd just moved and you'd already begun preparing for university, you'd try to keep in contact regularly. You'd watch as your laptop screen filled with the smile that had made your knees weak even from a thousand miles away and promptly force yourself to shut down those feelings.

"Hey you." He'd say, like he always did. "Hi. How was work today?" You'd answer, and he'd beam before talking your ear off for an hour or two, or until he decided he was too tired to keep going. 

Many times you wished you could reach through the screen and trace the freckles on his cheeks. You longed for the certainty of knowing how they felt under your fingertips.

On these calls, you knew that he just needed someone to listen to him. It wasn't that you weren't genuinely interested in what he was saying—of course you were—it was just that maybe your life was getting so bland that you had nothing to share with him, or that all of those things paled in comparison to what he was doing. The distance was far greater than the mileage separating both of you.

"Good night Ollie, sleep tight." You'd say at the end of one of these calls, watching his eyes blink slowly, indicating that he was already drifting off.

"You aren't telling me something." He answered. You felt your stomach twist.

I miss you, was definitely on your mind. I love you and I want you here were more self indulgent options for sure.

"I'm telling you everything." It was a white lie, but you couldn't think of what else to say to that.

You watched as Ollie's face dropped and shifted into an expression you couldn't read. He paused to take a moment, before going back to his own sleepiness.

"Good night." And the screen faded to black.

Over time, the calls became less and less frequent. It was sad, honestly; you went from seeing him basically everyday to feeling like you were barely a part of his life. Ultimately, though, it became clear how you were worlds apart from each other, especially since he stopped coming home for holidays and birthdays, and you didn't have the time to visit Modena no matter how many times you'd promised that to him in the past.

You existed on different planets—entirely different dimensions and planes of reality. He could pick and choose between celebrities and Instagram models, and you were stuck highlighting textbooks living from deadline to deadline.

That was until you got the call. 

“Ollie’s coming home.” Your mom said as soon as you picked up. You were cycling from one building to another between your classes and had three missed calls from her already. 

“What?” You hoped the shock surfacing in your voice wasn’t that obvious, considering how jarring it was in comparison to your mom’s excitement. 

“Yes! Come home for the weekend, it’ll be just like old times.” Your mom answered, thankfully not detecting your nerves.

It would be like old times, but this Ollie  wasn’t. You didn’t know what to do with that. What you were sure of though, is Ollie wasn’t running anymore—and you weren’t sure if that meant you had to stop chasing him too.

Ollie was standing behind his parents when you arrived at their house. It felt surreal, like you were undergoing some kind of half-dream, half-deja vu state. After greeting his parents with the usual pleasantries about how university is treating you and how you grow up so fast, you finally got to lay eyes on Ollie after three whole years. 

All you could see in that moment was him. It was like your mind fell silent and the only sound that cascaded through your body was that of your heart pounding against your ribcage.

In front of him, you were five, twelve, sixteen, and nineteen all at once. 

The silence felt like it lasted a lifetime, but he pulled you in before he could say a word.

The world went silent as you closed your eyes and let yourself stay in that moment. It was as if his parents and little brother weren't in the doorway with you—as if the world was your hometown and Modena was universes away.

"I missed you." Ollie said so earnestly your body was going to explode. He buried his face in your hair and you swore he was a few inches taller than he was when he left you.

"Me too." You replied into his chest, trying to breathe through how overwhelming everything was.

You were on your phone, lying in Ollie's twin-sized mattress, perfectly preserved like a sacred relic from your childhood. You'd remember nights when you'd snuggle together, his touch like a comforting anchor amidst seas that he could calm with his hand. You wondered if it was the same as it had always been. Would it be different now? Was it different now?

You glanced above the screen to watch Ollie reassembling his simulator in silence. It was comfortable, with the only air of awkardness coming from the elephant standing in the corner of the room; that being you not being on conversational terms previously despite being 'best friends.'

"Need help?" You asked, as you watched Ollie furrow his brows at some part that looked like any other part, which was confusing in itself but you were willing to help anyway. 

"No, all good." He chewed his bottom lip, clearly still frustrated and at a loss at what to do. 

You pursed your lips together and calmly asked a second time, "You sure?"

"Yes! I told you I didn't need your help the first time. Why aren't you listening to me?" Ollie let go of the parts he was holding, opting instead to press his eyes into his palms. "It used to be so easy to have you around, I just can't figure out why it's so different now."

"Well maybe it's because you're different now, Ollie." You couldn't help but raise your voice back at him as your heart pounded for entirely different reasons now.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe you were the one who stopped talking to me." His eyes pierced through you, but his glare was so obviously laced with hurt. It hurt you too—of course it did. 

You took a deep breath before replying. 

"You could literally pick any other girl to talk to, I don't know why what I do matters so much to you." You felt the tears well up in your eyes as you tried to stop your voice from fraying at the send of your sentence. You closed your eyes and covered your face in an attempt to stop the tears, but that proved futile as the warm wet streaks soon lined your face.

You felt the side of the bed dip and a hand reach out to gently touch the hands on your face. 

"Hey, I'm sorry, look at me." He wrapped his calloused hand around your wrist and exposed your red, splotchy face in all its glory to him. "You know me, you know I don't care about—" Ollie gestured loosely with one hand "—them. Besides, none of them will ever be you."

You tried not to overthink his statement too much as he moved his hand from his wrist to your cheek, then to your forehead. You held your breath as he leaned forward to press a kiss on your forehead, then down to your right cheek. You felt all the air exit your lungs as he pressed his forehead to yours, so impossibly close to you.

Growing up, you'd always wondered what it would be like to study how perfect every freckle and feature on his face was. Now that it was happening, the overwhelming glimmer in his eyes barely gave away that none of this was a pipe dream that you'd imagined from too many days away from him.

"Can I—" Ollie started. 

You grabbed his chin and smashed your lips together, taking him by surprise before he could even finish his sentence. People describe kissing to be like fireworks going off in your belly, or like butterflies swarming—however, there were no butterflies or fireworks, because those things couldn't even come close to what you were feeling. 

The kiss was hard and deep and neverending. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that came from years of anticipation—it was something else entirely; gentler, more deliberate. You felt Ollie’s hand slide to your waist, pulling you closer as though he was afraid you might disappear. Every inch of space that had once stretched between you over the years seemed to fold in on itself, leaving only the heat of his lips on yours and the sound of your uneven breaths filling the room.

“Ollie,” you whispered against his mouth when you finally pulled away, your voice barely audible. His name hung in the air like a confession.

He looked at you, his eyes filled with something raw, and you almost wished you could look away from how immense it was. “I mean it,” he murmured. “None of them will ever be you.”

Your chest tightened, the weight of those words nearly leading you to collapse. You didn’t need him to explain further because it made sense now. From the moment he grinned at you in that church pew, to the countless video calls where his smile never quite reached his eyes anymore, and even now as his thumb brushed gently across your cheek—it all made sense.

But there was still a sliver of fear inside you. “What happens when you leave again?” you asked softly. Your hand found its way to his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your palm. “What happens to us then?”

Ollie let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing against yours again. “I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “But I do know that I can’t keep pretending it doesn't feel like this to me. I can’t keep running away from this—away from you.”

His words hit you like a tidal wave. For years, you’d chased him, only to stop when you thought he’d never look back. But here he was, tethering himself to you with a kind of sincerity that was so intense it was just on the verge of too much. 

You didn’t say anything more. Instead, you let yourself kiss him again—this time slower, more intentional. His lips moved against yours like he was committing every moment to memory, like he didn’t want to forget a single second of this.

Eventually, the kiss deepened, and his hands roamed cautiously over your back, your waist, like he was overriding the memories he had of you with this one. You felt the mattress shift as he pulled you down with him, your body fitting against his as though it had always been meant to. The warmth of his hands against your skin grounded you, making you feel like this wasn’t just a dream.

“Ollie,” you breathed his name again, your voice trembling as his lips found your jaw, your neck. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

“So have I,” he confessed between kisses, his voice husky and filled with need. “You have no idea how long.”

You stayed on your sides, your head spinning as you continued to kiss. Maybe it was the oxygen that you were losing from kissing for this long, or maybe it was how high you were on the fact that Ollie felt the same way about you. Either way, you knew where this was leading, and you could barely believe that it was happening here, in Ollie's bedroom. You couldn't figure out if it felt sacred or if it unlocked certain fantasies that you didn't dare indulge in. 

Ollie was the one who made the first move, daring to move his warm, calloused hands over your ribcage, tantalizingly close to your breasts. "Please, Ollie," you brought your mouth away from his for a moment to plead. "Need you." You said, punctuated by you moving his hands under your bra. 

You shuddered under his touch as his hand rubbed across your nipples, leading you to jerk your hips forward into the growing hardness in his pants. You knew the moan he let out would fill your ears and mind with yearning long after this.

You toyed with the hem of his shirt as both your movements grew more and more desperate, and that cued Ollie to rid of his shirt altogether. You followed suit with your shirt and bra, making sure to spend enough time admiring just how beautiful all of him was, like he himself was chiseled out of the marble they used to make the statues of demigods.

"You're staring." He said smugly, eyes glistening with mischief and warmth. You chuckled back at him. 

"Well I'm sorry." The apology came out sounding snarky and sarcastic, and it was Ollie's turn to laugh.

"You aren't though." Ollie quipped back before diving into your neck once again, licking and biting just to get some noises out of you. 

He then helped you out of your shorts and underwear, seemingly desperate to run his fingers through your folds. "Fuck, you're so wet for me." You gasped as he ran his fingers over your clit and your hole, spreading your wetness around. 

Ollie made quick work of his own pants and boxers, and you indulged him by wrapping your hands around his dick, hard and leaking pre-cum. After you gave him a few experimental pumps, he was relenting. "Ah—wait—don't want to cum yet." 

Soon after, your hand was replaced by Ollie's as he guided his length into you, inch by inch. He had one hand at the base of his dick, and the other holding your knee up, making the angle better and ensuring that you were properly open for him to lay all of his love into. 

You didn't even have time to think after he bottomed out inside you, because soon after he was setting a pace that could only be described as relentless, like he was trying to repent for the years you'd waited. You couldn't help the moans that escaped your mouth as he pounded into you. 

You held on to him as he laid into you, whimpering as sweat began to form on his brow. 

"Tell me," He said, breathless as the room was filled with the sounds of skin against skin, "Tell me you love me." 

Your heart felt like it was bursting at the seams. "I love you—God, fuck—I love you."

With that, Ollie was burying himself deep into you and reaching his climax, painting your insides with pearly white rivulets. You were not far behind, clenching and cumming around his cock as he ground the last of his orgasm into you. 

As soon as Ollie pulled out, he was grabbing napkins from his bedside table, cupping a wad of them at your entrance as his cum seeped out of you. He seemed focused on it though, how you were practically dripping with his release and yours. 

"I could get used to this." Ollie's breathing turned heavy.

"You're kind of nasty." You replied playfully, shifting the mood as he cleaned you up.

"You love it." He joked, but you knew there was more behind that. 

"Almost as much as I love you." You followed up, laying a kiss on his flushed cheek. 

For the first time in years, you didn’t feel like you were chasing him anymore. He was here—grounded, steady, and most importantly, yours alone.

[ashcal99]

Collarbones : Jasper Whitlock Hale IV

Chapter Four

"I can see your collarbones and baby I'm scared, Never thought I'd be so unprepared"

Summary: Camila Johnson was only 16 when she was diagnosed with leukemia. By the time she had turned 17, the doctors had tried everything to save her. Her family is close to giving up hope when they hear of a doctor who may be able to help her. The only problem is, he lives on the opposite side of the country. The small family soon decides to move to the small town in Washington, in efforts to prolong her life. In doing so, her life changes forever.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, violence, descriptions of disease and weight loss, general angst, slow burn

Words: 7.4k

A/N: Please lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list. Hope you enjoy. Made this chapter extra long for the wait x

Soundtrack

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

——————

January 29th, 2005

Camila sat there, frozen in time, for what seemed like an eternity trying to process what Jasper had just admitted. So, Jasper sat there, unmoving as well as not breathing. He wasn’t sure how she was taking the new information and suddenly found himself wishing that he held Edward’s power in that moment, willing to give everything just to know the thoughts that were going through her mind. Second best, he knew that she, remarkably, held no fright towards the admission, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she lacked the simple instinct that humans should be born with. The instinct to run away screaming when someone tells you that they’re a monster and could easily kill you. 

At the end of the day, he knew that was what he was. A monster. He may have changed his diet and tried to appear human, but he was far from it. He had killed people. Innocent people. He couldn’t even make the argument that his family had done the same, because their body counts were minuscule compared to his. He had fed off of human blood for nearly eighty-five years before Alice had found him. Even with his new found vegetarianism considered, he still slipped up. More than anybody else, and even though he knew that Camila was safe around him, he also knew that she had every reason in the world to fear him, and it confused the hell out of him that she didn’t.

He couldn’t help himself as he spoke, the silence eating away at his resolve. “Can you please tell me what’s going through your mind?” He asked, nervousness gripping his throat as he croaked the words out. 

Camila’s eyes flashed over to him, eyebrows creased in… confusion maybe? “I don’t know… I feel like I know I shouldn’t believe you, but for some reason, I do?” She said, eyes tracing his serious expression. “Can you prove it? N-not the vampire thing, I guess, but something to prove any of it is true?” She asked. 

Jasper’s mind reeled for a moment trying to think of something quickly, when an idea popped into his head. “Remember how you said I’m really good at reading emotions? Like an empath?” He asked, waiting for her nod before continuing. “It’s a little more than that. Some of us, when we turn, we get… gifts. When I was changed I could not only feel people’s emotions like they were my own, but manipulate them too.” He explained slowly, trying to find the right words.

Given the situation, he figured this was his best bet in not freaking her out any further. Eyes scanning her face to make sure that she was okay with what he was about to do, he pushed a wave of happiness towards her. He watched as the corners of her lips curved upwards, the crease between her eyebrows smoothing as her heart filled with overwhelming joy. 

She didn’t know nor care why she had become so  suddenly happy, but as soon as the emotion was ripped back from her, the pieces clicked together. The smile slowly dropped from her face as her mind returned to where had been just moments before. “Holy shit.” She huffed out. He was telling the truth. As soon as the feeling of joy had hit her, it was gone. 

Her eyes widened suddenly. Maybe this was the explanation as to why she felt so strongly towards him. Maybe it was him all along, manipulating her feelings. “Y-you don’t do that to me often do you?” She asked nervously. 

Jasper shook his head quickly, not wanting her to get the wrong idea. “No. I’ve never with you before.” He rushed out, hoping to whatever god that she would believe him.

Letting out a sigh, Camila let her shoulders drop as she let herself relax back into her seat. She had no reason to think he was lying. From what she could tell, all of her feelings and emotions involving him were genuine, no matter how much she wished that they weren’t there to begin with.

“So, is the whole thing about garlic true?” She asked trying to lighten the mood. Everything had suddenly gotten much too daunting.

Throwing his head back with a bark of laughter, Jasper ran his long thin fingers through his golden curls. How in the world was she taking all of this so well? The ball had to drop at some point, right? There’s no way that everything would go this smoothly. Surely after she learned about his past and how much of a monster he really was, surely then, she would run away screaming. But that admission would have to wait for another day, because in that moment, he would give anything keep Camila as far away from that part of him as possible.

——————

January 31st, 2005

The rest of her day with Jasper had flown by, and before Camila knew it, it was the start to her second week at Forks High School. After the exhaustion of her first week, and hanging out with Jasper on Saturday, the rest of her weekend consisted of sleep and cramming in the remainder of her homework. When Monday finally came around, she was well rested, at lest as well rested as she could be. 

Camila had just joined the end of the line in the cafeteria, Eric talking her ear off behind her once again, when her eyes finally met Jasper’s across the crowded room. She hadn’t seen him since he had dropped her back off at home Saturday night. Like a perfect gentleman, he had waited, car pulled against the curb and watched her figure until she had successfully made it fully inside her home, before he drove away. 

Now that her eyes had met his for the first time since she had been given the opportunity to fully, well mostly maybe, process his confession, she felt a weight leave her shoulders that she wasn’t even aware was there in the first place. The rest of their night on Saturday had consisted mostly of more light hearted conversation, so now that she had been given the time to think of more questions to ask him, she had began to grow anxious of waiting. 

She knew the questions would have to wait, however, but seeing his face, that alone, eased that stress and anxiety from her. Everything had happened so quickly that her mind didn’t know how to calculate what his confession actually meant, and over the remainder of the weekend her mind had time to wander. He was dangerous, that much was apparent, but somehow, she also knew that he wouldn’t hurt her. That she was safe with him. 

It felt almost like a fever dream, everything happening so quickly. They had only just met, but suddenly, she couldn’t remember the last time she had felt so comfortable with another person. So comfortable with being vulnerable, and content with sharing with him what she had been so keen on keeping from everyone else. Clearly he felt the same, that much she could gather herself, given his blatant honesty with her. 

Eric’s voice broke her from her thoughts as he continued his ramble on about how their trip to La Push Beach had gone and how she ‘had to join them next time’. She had to stop herself from cringing, not looking forward to coming up with another excuse in the future. She turned to him, attempting to give a reassuring smile. She didn’t want to come off rude, especially with the wide grin that was stretched across his face. He was just trying to be friendly, and that’s what she wanted. So, even if his persistence slightly annoyed her, she was still happy to have him around. 

Chills ran up her spine as icy fingertips brushed lightly across her lower back, bringing goosebumps quickly to the surface of her skin. She knew who it was, of course, before she looked up, having already gotten used to the feel of his touch, but that didn’t stop the flutter of her heart as her eyes met Jasper’s once more. He had sensed her unease from across the room and had decided to come to her rescue. 

“Will you sit with us for lunch today?” He asked, giving her a quirked eyebrow as well as a small smile. Alice had been pestering him since his return on Saturday to spend more time with the girl. As usual, she would get what she wanted, she already knew that of course, but that didn’t stop her from reminding him at every chance she got. 

Jasper watched as the gears in her head began to turn, slowly processing his invitation, her heart sputtering at his touch. He couldn’t help his smile from growing bigger across his face, enjoying hearing the reaction he had on her heart. “S-sure.” She stuttered out, turning back to the lunch lady to pay for her tray of food. She sent a small wave and smile to the boy, Eric, and fell in stride by Jasper’s side, his hand ghosting the small of her back as he lead her to the table that held the remainder of his family. 

Eric stood for a moment, mouth agape as he stared at their retreating figures. What was it with the new girls and the Cullens? Why was that family suddenly so sociable after a year of barely speaking to anybody? From across the cafeteria, the two were beginning to attract the stares from the rest of her friend group, and when she finally made it to the table, Jasper pulling her chair out for her to take a seat, the majority of the overcrowded room was practically ogling them. A fact, in which was doing nothing to ease the anxiety that had settled in the pit of her stomach.

Setting her tray down, she slowly dropped into the hard plastic seat, shoulders tensing as she took in the perfect faces sat in front of her. Camila had of course met Alice the week previous, but she had yet to meet Jasper’s other siblings. She wasn’t sure if she should feel more or less comfortable meeting the pale strangers now that she knew their secret, but the fact was, she knew and nothing would change that now. 

Feeling waves of anxiety and stress radiate from Camila, he decided now would be a time to use his powers, one that he hoped she wouldn’t be mad at him for later. He hated seeing the worry in her eyes and knew that her stress was unnecessary, so he did what he could and pushed feelings of calmness and comfortability towards her as he settled into the seat next to her. 

As the anxiety lifted from her shoulders, a polite smile formed on Camila’s lips. Jasper cleared his throat from beside her, gaining the attention of his siblings. “Camila this is my family.” He gestured towards the group. “Alice you met already.” He said pointing to the pixie haired girl on the other side of Camila.

The whole family already knew of his admission, and given the circumstances he was more that content with their reactions. He hadn’t exactly known what to expect from the situation, never having dealt with anything like it before. Carlisle and Esme had been happy for him, and though this slightly unnerved him, he knew it came with good intentions. He knew what coming clean to Camila could mean for her future, for their future, but he still refused to get his hopes up. Her knowing and having the choice to ‘live’ on had no guarantee that she would make that decision, and as much as it pained him, he knew that he would never be able to make that choice for her. 

Alice’s teeth shown brightly as she smiled at the girl, squealing lightly as she pulled her into a tight hug. Camila’s eyes widened, the immortal girl’s antics still surprising her despite already being on the receiving end previously. Before she was given the time to process and reciprocate the hug, Alice had pulled away and had returned to her comfortable position in her seat. 

Alice was of course ecstatic, even though she had seen the whole thing happen already, because now she was free to develop their friendship. She had seen the whole thing play out and knew just how close she would grow to Camila, and like a child on Christmas morning, was practically bouncing with anticipation when he had arrived home Saturday night. 

Jasper continued, stopping to roll his eyes at his sister. “This is Emmet and Rosalie.” He said, gesturing to the couple sitting at the opposite side of the table. Emmet gave a ginormous half smile half smirk to the girl, while Rosalie attempted the give a polite smile as well.

Emmet was of course laid back about the whole thing, only giving him a little bit of shit for finally finding his mate. Rosalie was surprisingly at ease with the situation, unlike her feelings towards Bella. Of course, Jasper knew why. She had always resented her immortality, having her humanity ripped away from her the way that it had been, and she wouldn’t wish that on anybody else. He knew her calm demeanor had to do with the fact that, unlike her human life, Camila had no chance of growing old. No chance of starting a family.

His heart ached at this knowledge, knowing that he would give anything he could to see Camila age into her beauty. To see her grow and start her adult life. To see her get married and have children, even if he wasn’t the one to give her that future. Unfortunately, maybe because God or whatever higher power was cruel or had a sick twisted sense of humor, she had no hope for that life. 

It had been an unexpected punch to the gut to meet her mother. She was such a perfect reflection of her daughter that it was almost like he was glimpsing into that impossible future. He knew that this would be how Camila would look, given the chance. But she didn’t have that chance, and that was his best guess as to why Rosalie had refrained from giving him the same shit she had been giving Edward. 

“And this is Edward.” Jasper said finally, turning to look at displeased expression of his adopted brother.

Edward had seemed slightly bitter about the situation. He obviously knew the differences between the two girls, but couldn’t help but feel slightly jealous at which the ease Jasper came by with telling Camila the truth. He himself would never wish the future of immortality onto Bella, but only wished that he didn’t have to suppress his want for the girl. He knew it was best to stay as far away from Bella as possible, hence why he had been avoiding her to the best of his abilities, but his resolve was beginning to waver. 

Jasper didn’t have to deal with any of this, despite having his own struggles. Camila already knew the truth about them, and soon she would be making that decision on her own. Hell, he didn’t even have to worry about his thirst around the girl, a fact that he couldn’t help but be bitter about. Edward had always had what he considered decent self control with human blood, something that he couldn’t say the same for with Jasper, and the one person that it truly mattered for, he was at his lowest point with self control. It was cruel irony. 

Despite not being able to read Edward’s mind like he could his, Jasper could feel his emotions, and he could fill in the rest himself. He didn’t want any animosity between him and his brother, but he knew that whatever Edward was feeling wouldn’t stop him from growing closer to Camila, and definitely wouldn’t stop Alice from begging him to let her spend more time with her. So that was why he had decided it was time to introduce her. What better time and place to break the ice between Camila and the rest of his family than the controlled environment of a school cafeteria? He had thought, and now, seeing the slight glare on Edward’s face, he couldn’t decide whether or not that had been a bad decision on his part.

As thoughts of anger rushed through Jasper’s mind, Edwards eyes flickered over to his. Edward’s glare softened as he processed Jasper’s internal dialog. He knew that it wasn’t his fault and he knew that it wasn’t Camila’s, but he couldn’t help how he felt. He was jealous and he was finding it difficult to hide his emotions. His eyes flitted across Jasper’s face, neck, and arms. The scars littered across his skin were a reminder to not push things with him. The crescents, nearly invisible to the human eye, were a gigantic red flag to any vampire. Neon lights that flashed bright as a warning to everyone around him to stay back or else. Although he knew that his brother would never hurt him, he also knew not to start a fight, because it would most definitely be one he would lose.

Huffing in irritation, Edward pulled out his chair, rushing to leave the cafeteria. He could try all he wanted to be civil and not start a fight, but he wasn’t about to sit there and take this torture. Over time it would get easier for him to cope, but in that moment, the wound was fresh and he needed to be far from the reminder. 

Jasper sighed in annoyance, rolling his eyes once again as he let his defenses fall back down to their normal level. “Ignore him.” He muttered to the girl beside him, slinging his arm protectively around the back of her chair.

——————

“So what’s with you and Cullen?” Tyler blurted out suddenly. Camila’s head fell to look at her boots that thudded along the hallway towards their last class of the day. She could feel the blood rushing up to her cheeks and knew that it would do little to help her case if he saw the growing blush. 

“What do you mean?” She asked, feigning confusion. It was a matter of time before someone started the inevitable conversation given Jasper’s display in the cafeteria that day, but she had hoped she would have a bit more time to prepare herself. 

Tyler stuffed his hands into his pockets awkwardly. “Yeah, you two seemed… cozy today at lunch.” He muttered.

Camila raised her head, quirking an eyebrow at the dark skinned boy in stride beside her. “Cozy?” She asked, a hint of humor tinting her voice. Tyler was clearly bothered by this whole situation, a fact that she found humorous given the circumstance. From the fact that Tyler had asked her to prom just a few days previous, she could gather herself that he was most likely jealous of Jasper. Not that he had any reason to be. Camila had every intention to stick to her plan of staying single and as much as she was beginning to care for Jasper, she didn’t see that changing.

A scoff sounded from the boy by her side as he rolled his eyes at her teasing. “Yeah. Cozy. You sat with his family at lunch instead of us, and he was practically all over you.” He argued. 

Camila laughed lightly at his words. “He was not all over me.” She argued. In fact, like usual, she had been hyper aware of every touch from the pale immortal. As usual, he had shown to be very hesitant in touching her, only giving the slight graze of his fingertips along her covered back as he lead her to the table. She of course was also extremely aware of the arm that he had slung protectively around the back of her seat after Edward’s whole display, but he had been very precise in not letting his cold skin actually touch her in any way.

Tyler groaned frustratedly. “Whatever it was, I don’t like it.” He complained.

Camila’s eyebrows knitted together. What was it with people at this school being assholes to them? The Cullen’s kept to themselves, sure, but they were never anything but polite to anyone they came into contact with. At this point, all these little comments that everybody kept making were beginning to piss her off. “And why should you not liking it mean anything to me?” She asked incredulously. Sure, she wanted to make friends, and be nice, but she was starting to become defensive over Jasper and she wasn’t just going to stand there and take everybody’s bullshit. Because that’s what it was. Complete and utter bullshit.

Tyler’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. He hadn’t expected her to respond in that way, never seeing her angry before. “I mean, he’s kind of creepy isn’t he? I’m just trying to look out for you. He doesn’t seem… good.” He said trailing off towards the end as he took in the expression of anger growing more and more prevalent on her face.

She had to bite back a snide remark as she tried to process how she could respond without sounding like a total bitch. An awkward silence rung between the two teens before she decided that she didn’t really care anymore. If he was going to give unsolicited advice to her when he barely knew her then she would respond accordingly. “No offense Tyler, but I didn’t ask for your shitty advice. I’m a big girl, I can look out for myself, thanks.” She said finitely.

Pushing her aching legs to move her forward at a faster pace, she let out an internal sigh of relief as the door to her calculous class came into view. Lunch had gone well, all things considered. Despite Edward’s little display, the rest of Jasper’s family had welcomed her with open arms. While the conversation mostly consisted of small talk and them asking her questions about herself, she could tell that they were all genuinely nice people. 

Alice had invited her over for the following weekend, in which Camila had immediately agreed to without thinking. Now that she had been given the time to think about the implications of the invite, she realized that she would be meeting their adoptive mother and seeing Carlisle. While she knew Carlisle fairly well, given meeting him the week prior, she realized how nervous she was to meet Esme. Jasper had talked the woman up so highly, but she couldn’t help but feel her nerves eating away at her. She would be meeting his mother soon, ‘adopted’ or not and it was only natural to have that kind of reaction. 

Jasper, as usual, was already seated at their assigned table by the time she had arrived to the classroom. Camila flitted to the back of the room to her seat, letting her body drop into the confines of the cool plastic, as she let out a heavy sigh. 

“Are you okay?” Jasper asked, concern lacing his voice. It was normal for her be exhausted by the end of the school day, but he could also feel her anger and frustration. The feelings set off warning bells in his mind and he was immediately on alert to what had upset her. 

Camila rolled her eyes, raking her slim fingers through the long dark strands of her hair. “Tyler Crowley is an asshole.” She said simply, annoyance still evident on her face as she recalled their conversation that had just taken place moments ago. 

His eyes flickered over to where said boy had just entered the classroom, narrowing as he took in the sight. “What did he say?” He asked, immediately defensive over the girl. 

“He apparently has an issue with you and ‘just wants to look out for me’.” She said, yanking her workbook and and pencil case from her backpack and slamming them down on the desk.

Jasper’s shoulder’s drooped at her words as he hummed in reply. He couldn’t even be mad. What Tyler said was clearly justified, whether or not Camila had realized. She should be warned about him. Just because he didn’t thirst for her blood didn’t mean that he wasn’t a danger towards her. Didn’t mean that he couldn’t hurt her, even if it wasn’t intensional. Didn’t mean that he wasn’t a monster at the end of the day.

Hearing his near silent response, Camila turned her head to see him looking down slightly defeated, eyes refusing to meet her own. “Jasper.” She said, trying and failing to get him to look at her. “Jasper.” She repeated, grasping at his hand  that laid in a tight fist at his thigh. 

Electricity shot through her fingers as they brushed the marble skin of his clenched knuckles, but she pushed on. “Can you look at me, please?” She asked, her soft voice contrasting the anger that had filled it just moments ago. 

His amber eyes flickered up to meet hers. As much as he wanted to sulk in that moment, he wanted more to give her what she wanted. Her eyes softened as she saw the pain that filled his. They were always filled with pain, but this was different. More of an inner torment and seeing it made her chest ache. 

She turned his fist over in her palm, nudging the fingers apart so she could intertwine them with her own. “He’s full of shit, Jazz. I know you would never hurt me.” She said, voice softly ringing in his ears. 

The pain in his heart grew at her words. He didn’t deserve her. She was too perfect for his damned self and he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from being grateful that she was there. It didn’t stop him from selfishly wanting her. He pulled their intertwined fingers up to his lips were he laid a soft kiss on the back of her palm, thanking her for her kindness. Thanking her for her comfort. 

The touch of his chilled lips on her skin sent her heart into overdrive, and knowing that he could he hear his effect on her didn’t help the blush that was creeping onto her cheeks. She had expected him to drop her hold after that, but instead, their hands remained, bound together and laying gently in his lap. 

Class continued, the two working together on finishing the next page in their worksheet. Jasper of course could finish the work in less than a minute, but anything that gave him the excuse to talk to Camila he would gladly do. She sat there, eyebrows furrowed as she worked over a particularly difficult problem on the sheet. Normally, she would have no problem solving the equations, but today her mind was wandering too much. She sighed, giving up as she let her pencil clatter onto the chipped veneer of the desk.

“Do you want to come over to my house today?” She asked suddenly. Clearly seeing that she had caught him off guard, she continued. “I have more questions.” She clarified. 

Jasper groaned internally. As much as he would love to avoid the inevitable conversation, he also knew that it had to happen at some point. At least he would get to spend more time with her, a definite plus. “Sure, I can just drive us after class if you’d like.” He offered. Alice had told him to drive separately to school that day, and now it was clear why. He would have to thank her later. 

Camila nodded, pulling her flip phone from her bag and trying to discreetly type a quick text to her mother letting her know that Jasper would drive her home. Doing so was a bit difficult to do one handed, but she wasn’t about to take her other hand out of his grasp. 

The remainder of the class trudged on slowly to Camila’s dismay. Now that she knew that she would be able to ask all of the questions that had been racing through her mind, she couldn’t seem to clear her head of them. Finally, a bell rang shrilly throughout the class, signaling the end of the school day. An unspoken agreement stood between her and Jasper as they both proceeded to pack away their belongings without undoing the grip on each other’s hands. 

She wasn’t sure what the hand holding meant to him or even herself, but she didn’t exactly care. She already had to constantly remind herself of her promise to keep any romance at bay, but hand holding didn’t necessarily have to mean that. It was comforting, having his cold palm pressed against hers, and despite her internal screaming at herself that it was a bad idea, she didn’t want to pull away. So there they were, walking down the hallway, hand in hand, attracting even more stares than usual. 

Camila let out a sigh as they reached the parking lot, the cool air feeling nice on her feverish skin. Puffs of vapor swirled in front of her mouth as steady breaths of hot air left her parted lips. Jasper had to rip his eyes away from the sight to make sure that he was walking in the right direction. He needed to pull his shit together. Kissing her hand had been bad enough, but he had to stop himself from thinking too much about her lips. Her soft warm plump lips. Jesus Christ, STOP. 

He wished so badly in that moment that he could’ve kissed her. Regardless of the numerous bystanders. However, he knew that it wasn’t safe. He didn’t trust himself enough not to end up accidentally hurting her. He didn’t even know if she would’ve kissed him back for fuck’s sake. And here he was feeling like an absolute creep again. 

Pulling himself from his thoughts, he pulled the passenger door of his car open for her. Reluctantly, she let loose of his grasp, immediately feeling an emptiness without it’s presence. She settled into the plush bucket seat, pulling her bag into her lap as he shut the door softly behind her. 

Flitting quickly, or as quick as seemed human, to the driver’s side, Jasper slid in and turned the key in the ignition. Shifting the car into reverse, he backed out of the parking spot and shifted back into drive as he sped out onto the street. He internally thanked his past self for buying a manual transmission before reaching over to grasp Camila’s hand once more. 

Camila let her hair fall in front of her face, hoping that the curtain of dark strands hid the smile that she couldn’t wipe away. For someone who was so adamant on not dating, she kept finding herself being giddy whenever he touched her. What was she a twelve year-old? He was just holding her hand, she shouldn’t feel like a swarm of butterflies was flying around in her stomach. 

The drive to Camila’s home hadn’t taken long, and by the time they arrived at the small house, he mother’s mini van was still absent from the driveway. She had replied earlier letting her know that she was going to go grocery shopping since she had time before she had to go to work, and Camila was happy to see that she hadn’t returned yet. One less awkward interaction with Jasper and her parents would always be a good thing. 

As they stepped through the threshold of the home, she found herself wishing she had cleaned her room. She hadn’t thought of the mess she had left behind before she had invited him over, albeit a small mess. Either way, she couldn’t help herself but try and hurriedly pick up the few pieces of clothing scattered around the room once they made it through the doorway. 

Once she was content with her ‘cleaning’ she shut the door softly behind her and plopped down on her mattress, the springs squeaking slightly in protest. Scooting backwards until her back met the wall, she patted the empty space beside her, gesturing for Jasper to join her. On one hand, she almost wanted to sit out on the couch in the living room, as it would probably seem less intimate that way, but she also didn’t want to be interrupted by her mother when she inevitably returned home from the store. So there they were sitting side by side awkwardly on her worn out used mattress and now she didn’t know how to start the conversation. 

Sensing her hesitation, Jasper spoke up. “So, you have questions.” He said, wanting to end the torture of waiting any longer. If she was going to run away screaming, he would rather it be sooner than later, because the anticipation was slowly eating away at him. 

Camila sucked in a breath. “How old are you?” She blurted out. Jasper groaned, rubbing his hands down his face. He should’ve expected her to jump right to the point, but, somehow, he hadn’t. “You said it was a conversation for another day. It’s another day now.” She reasoned.

“I know. I know.” He said with a sigh. “I’m just really old, Darlin’.” He said, hoping the nickname would distract her. It didn’t.

She scoffed. “That’s not an answer.” She said bluntly. 

Jasper closed his eyes, sucking in a breath as he braced for the impact of her reaction. “I’m a hundred and sixty-one.” He muttered lowly. Utter silence followed. 

Camila didn’t know what she expected, if the age he had given was younger or older than she had thought it would be, but hearing him say such a precise age made everything seem way more real. She couldn’t find the words to say in response, so instead, she reached over to grasp his hand once more, letting him know that she wasn’t disgusted like he had thought. 

“Will you tell me your story?” She asked, not being able to help her intrigue.

His bright gold eyes met her emerald irises. “It’s kind of gruesome.” He warned, trying his best to prolong the inevitable admission of his past, but knowing that it was just that. Inevitable.

“I want to know.” She said simply. “If you’re willing to tell me.” She clarified. 

Jasper was fucked and he knew it. Anything that she wanted, he would give her in a heartbeat, but she would hate him after this. “I didn't have quite the same upbringing as my adopted siblings.” He said, reaching his free hand over reluctantly, to roll up the sleeve on the arm that she held. 

She wasn’t sure how she hadn’t noticed them before, but there they were. Hundreds of crescent shaped scars shimmering lightly in the dim lighting emitted from her ceiling fan. Now that she knew what to look for, she could see the scars were scattered across every piece of visible skin. Down his arms, onto the hand that was holding hers, a few up his neck to his handsome face. “Are those… bites?” She asked incredulously.

“Battle scars.” He responded, a small smirk gracing his lips. “I was seventeen when I joined the Confederate Army.” He said, pausing when he saw her grimace. “I know. I wish I could say that I didn’t know what I was fighting for, or against, but I knew enough. I’m not proud of it.” He said hanging is head in shame. 

“I was the youngest major in the Texas cavalry. All without having seen any real battle.” He continued.

Camila perked up. “I knew that was a Texas accent.” She said smirking at him, gaining a small smile in repose. Leave it to her to try and lighten the mood as soon as it gets dark.

Still, he pushed on, knowing that it was about to become a much darker conversation. “I was riding back to Galveston...after evacuating a column of women and children. When I saw her.” He said dauntingly. “I immediately offered her my aid.” He continued.

“Maria was creating an army. A newborn vampire army.” He clarified. “Our kind are at their strongest in their first year after changing. Their human blood still lingers in their veins and gives them more speed and strength.” He explained.

“Newborn armies were very common in the South, and cost a brutal battles for territory.” He continued, losing himself in the story. “Maria won them all. She was smart, careful. And she had me. I was the second in command. My abilities to control emotions served her well.” He said, looking down to the warm hand he still had clutched in his own, trying to find comfort in her touch. 

“I trained her newborns. An endless occupation since she never let them live beyond their first year.” He said, cringing from the memory. “It was my job to dispose of them.” He said, voice thick with emotion. It pained him to remember what he had done. To remember their pain. “I could feel everything they felt.”

The crease between Camila’s brows deepened. It clearly hurt for him to recall these memories, and she found herself wishing that she could take that pain away. 

“I thought what Maria and I had was love. But I was her puppet. She pulled the strings. I didn't know there was another way. Until I found Alice in 1948. Now she'd seen me coming, of course.” He paused, remembering that this would wouldn’t make much sense to Camila. 

He gathered his thoughts quickly, trying explain the best he could. “She has visions, of possible futures. They change when decisions are made, but she knew when and where to find me.” He smiled slightly. “She saw you, even though she conveniently didn’t warn me.” He explained.

“I don't know what I'd have become without her. I’d done horrible, unspeakable things, and she helped me get past that. My family choses to feed off of animal blood rather than human blood, but it wasn’t always like that for me. I’ve killed innocent people. I’m not a… good person.” He ended his story with a sigh, unsure of how she was feeling. 

Her mind was filled with conflicting emotions that he couldn’t quite place all together. “I completely understand if you want me to leave.” He said, moving to pull his hand away from hers. 

Her grip tightened as her eyes shot up to his. “No, stay. Please.” She muttered. She knew how her reaction must seem. In truth, she had almost expected worse. As bad as his story was, at least he didn’t actively kill people. It was a horrible argument, she knew, but after being given the rest of the weekend to let her mind wander, she had tried to prepare herself for the worst. 

Her silence was agony and he couldn’t help himself when he asked. “Can you please tell me what you’re thinking?”

Camila sighed, bringing her eyes back to his. “I’m not going to sit here and act like what you did wasn’t wrong, because it was. But I’m also not going to actively try and make you feel any worse for it. You’ve had over fifty years to regret what you did, and you clearly do. I’m not going to judge you for something that you wish you could’ve changed, not when I know you’re a good person now.” She said. 

Jasper shook his head in disbelief. How was she this forgiving? It seemed impossible. He was sure she would be disgusted with him, but here she was forgiving him for something he couldn’t even forgive himself for. “How are you not terrified of me?” He asked.

She looked deep into his eyes as she answered. “I’m not scared because I know you won’t do anything to hurt me.” She said simply.

“I could hurt you on accident. Very easily.” He argued, looking ashamed. “I could crush you just by hugging you too tightly. I know you don’t understand fully, but it would be so easy that I actively have to try and not hurt you.” He said, a deep frown on his face.

Camila’s eyebrows furrowed as she brought her free hand down to trace the crescent shaped scars that littered his arm. “I don’t know what to tell you. I trust you, that’s the best answer I can give you, Jasper. You need to try and have trust in yourself.” She answered.

Jasper shook his head, baffled that she had so much trust in him to begin with. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve her. Seeing the sadness still in his eyes, she rushed, trying to find a change of topic to lighten the mood from the darkness that it had reached. “So, if you can manipulate emotions and Alice sees visions of the future, does anyone else in your family have a ‘gift’.” She asked, curiosity peaking once again. 

Jasper was thankful for the change of topic, already feeling himself beginning to spiral from the continuous self hatred. “Yeah, Edward is the only other one in our family. He can, um, read minds… I know it sounds ridiculous.” He said, slightly humiliated at how fictional everything sounded. 

“Oh god. That’s… embarrassing.” She muttered, her mind beginning to wander. Edward had no doubt read her mind and heard her thoughts of Jasper. Those were thoughts she didn’t even want to admit to herself and now he definitely had knew all about them. 

Suddenly her mind went to his exit at lunch. Was that why he had left? Was it something she had thought that had set him off? “What happened with him at lunch today?” She asked.

Rolling his eyes at the memory, Jasper tried to form the most comprehensible explanation. “He’s jealous that I can tell you the truth and he can’t tell Bella.” He said simply. 

“Bella Swan?” Camila asked.

Jasper nodded. “He… has a particular interest in her. He’s been trying to avoid her because he knows that it won’t end well, and he’s jealous that I don’t have to do the same with you.” He explained. 

“Why is it different with me?” She asked, trying to ignore the implication that Jasper had an interest in her.

His eyes trailed across the bare walls of her bedroom, looking anywhere but at her as he continued. “He has a really hard time with the scent of her blood, while yours is different for me.” He said.

“Because of the leukemia?” She asked.

Jasper nodded again. “It’s more dangerous for her than it is for you because of that. It’s hard for him to even be in the same room as her. Either way it would end badly.” He explained.

“End badly how? Surely it could end in more ways than just him killing her right?” She asked. She knew the subject had to be touchy and sensitive, but she couldn’t keep herself from asking.

Here it was. The scariest topic of them all. If he didn’t handle this just right, if he didn’t use the right words, then there went his chance of a future with her. He gulped, mustering the courage to speak. “He could kill her or he could change her. Both which he doesn’t want to do.” 

Camila’s eyed widened. She hadn’t even thought of that. Changing into a vampire. She wasn’t sure why her mind hadn’t gone there, but she hadn’t even considered that a possibility. She couldn’t help it when her mind wandered to what this could mean for her. He had said it like he was trying to imply something else entirely. He had to know the possible endings. Surely Alice had seen. 

“Are there more possible endings for me? Futures where I don’t die from the leukemia?” She asked. She had to know. She had spent a year coming to terms with the fact that her life would be cut short, but now she wasn’t sure. She knew that her illness would in no doubt end up taking her human life, but what if she turned. What if she changed into something else where the cancer didn’t effect her anymore? What if she wasn’t human anymore? She had to know, because suddenly, after a year of withering away, she might have another option. She might have hope.

Jasper turned his eyes back to hers. This was the make it or break it moment. He sucked in a breath, feeling a tightness in his chest regardless of the fact that he didn’t need the oxygen. 

And he spoke. “Yes… Alice has seen it."

Next Chapter

Tag List:

@jasper-the-beloved @parkchaeyoung1997 @bobaopal @izzyisstuff @itsmytimetoodream @soyeonrai @just-browsing101 @demirunner @dkbj14 @iloveramensm @imyelenasexual @bella7866 @ropickle @may-and-lay @breezybeesposts @emily-a13 @mamajaxx2511 @meyrryme @bertholdtswife @swagcopangeloop @idonotcareaboutyouropinion @honey132 @sakurayuki8655-blog @braveangel777 @illogic-ally @obsessed-with-pychopaths @natsvenom @iamveryholyiswear @too-many-fandoms-tbh @loser-syrus

[cosmal]

scenario 16: “sender  pushes  receiver  against  a  wall  to  kiss  them” with sirius please

gin

valentines day celebration!

summary — sirius really is going to kiss you at this party tonight.

content — sirius black x fem!afab!reader, mentions of alcohol

You'd sent Sirius a photo of your outfit before you left. It was nothing promiscuous, it was sweet and innocent which he's sure made it worse. Sporting a red top that squeezed your waist until your top half sort of spilled out, and a white, frilly skirt that leaves enough room to show the soft plush of your thighs, and the message is this too much for mary's? :/ You were nervous — in an outfit like that. He'd sent back no sweetheart you look amazing.

He'd stared at the image on the train the entire way to Mary's. He's sure he's gonna kiss you tonight.

He knows you're around somewhere, you messaged him when you arrived. i'm here. lmk when you get here, i wanna see you. :) Bold, considering how you are when you're around him. Shy and all things sweet. It's a challenge to get a smile out of you when he's you're together. You hide them in the back of your hand most of the time. He hopes you're not drunk just yet.

All he wants to do is see you. When he shows up, it's like he has tunnel vision. He says hello to Remus and James, though it's short and sweet, he's not rude. Sorry, gotta get some booze into me. Code for, he has to find you right now while he still has the confidence.

He hears you before he sees you. He follows the sound of your giggles around the corner and into the hallway. You're standing outside the bathroom, talking to someone through the door.

"Y/N!" The skirt looks even better in person. Your cracked brick phone didn't do it justice.

"Sirius!" you cheer, walking the length of the hallway to meet him, leaving behind the poor soul in the bathroom. He didn't see the boots in the photo. He swallows.

You hug him first, which is different. He has the suspicion you're drunk. Confirmed when he selfishly pushes his face into your neck and can smell something like gin.

He pulls back and holds you at arm's length, the sleeves of your shirt bunch under his hands until he can feel your cold skin. "How much you had to drink?"

"I've had two," you smile. You're not hiccuping like you usually do when you've had one too many.

"Really?" he asks. You nod and it's adorable. "You smell like a bottle of Gordon's."

You laugh and tip your head back. Sirius tries really hard not to look at your neck and fails miserably. "Emmeline spilt her drink on my jacket."

"Oh, no," he says and he means it. "Is it ruined?"

"A little, but it's okay. She didn't mean to." You smile and wrap your fingers around his wrists. You turn your head to place a quick kiss against his skin, leaving behind a light pink lipstick mark over one of his green veins.

He startles because you've never done that before but he's not about to start complaining. "You're very happy tonight."

You turn back and then he catches that shy smile you're always doing around him. He thinks it's worse than a usual smile because your eyes droop, a crush of eyelashes that almost kiss your cheeks, and your nose twitches.

"I'm happy to see you," you admit and crane your neck so your cheek smooshes against his arm. You blink and look up at him and Sirius feels dizzy momentarily. "Super happy," you laugh.

"Why's that?" he asks and tries not to sound as affected by you as he feels. His heart a thundercloud in his chest.

"Because you're here," you admit and he can tell you're trying just as hard to sound casual. You lean off of him to look him in the eye. "You're here and I think you're gonna do something.''

Sirius swallows and suddenly he's nervous. He's never like this around you. He thinks he maybe should've taken a shot before he found you. Despite the fact he's a mess, he says, "Oh, yeah?" as smoothly as possible because he's Sirius Black.

You bite your lip and then look him up and down. Your eyes drag up the length of his neck and then stop at his lips. He thinks whatever you've drunk tonight was just enough to boost your confidence. he's selfishly loving it.

"I think you're gonna kiss me," you say in a tone lower than before. He thinks your eyes darken but that could be something he's imagining in his dizzy, lovesick head.

"Do you want me to?" His voice goes husky and you shiver. He almost laughs. He's still got one over you.

"Are you serious?"

You slam your eyes shut as soon as you say it.

"As a matter of fact—"

"Sirius, don't—"

"I am."

You roll your eyes. "God, shut up and kiss me, Black."

Sirius doesn't have to be asked twice. He grabs a hold of the sides of your face, fingers parted over your ears to guide your face to his. There's heavy breathing, lips smacking, and the tiniest of a whine on your part and Sirius melts into you. He's not as rough as he usually Is — as rough as he wants to be. But he pushes you back to hold you against the wall, keeping his lips planted against yours.

Selfishly, he lets one of his hands roam down to your hip and gives it a squeeze. You jolt and pull away from him, gasping sharply. He misses your mouth sorely and shows it, chasing you momentarily with his eyes closed.

You giggle and murmur, "Fuck," quietly under your breath.

"Fuck," he agrees, panting because he can't help it.

You kiss him again and ignore whoever it is you share the hallway with. This time, when he's not so caught up in the feeling of your hips against his and the sounds you're making, he tastes you. Something like gin and cordial. It's addictive.

He pulls back suddenly and says, "Wait, how'd you know I was gonna kiss you tonight?"

"I didn't."

He ducks his head down and hides his face in your shoulder. "You're unbelievable."

"I know."

Sirius makes a mental note to write a letter of appreciation to Gordon's Gin.

[yellowbunnydreams]

Bunny Ears (Part 16) ~William Afton X F! Reader~

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* Want more or something different? *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Tag List: @ruh--roh-raggy @h4nluv @sleepy---head @do-double-g @confiscated-peaches-main @dij-ology @viviennemuerte @robin-the-enby @shari-berri @randymeeksisafinalgirl @hallow1090 @aponia-yue @likoplays @dilflover-3 @oak-leafs @phd-in-fuckery @weirdoartist21 @nicolezghostz @fauine

Sorry if I missed you on the tag-list!

CW: Minors DNI, (18+ ONLY), Female Reader, legal age gap (Reader- 20's, William - 30's), divorce/processing divorce, Afton being a sarcastic hot ass, Henry being such a dad, grumpy x sunshine . Faz-Fuck TM. Cringe scenes ft. Henry.

As the colder months drew closer, there were a few more faces kicking around the restaurant, Henry apparently on a recruiting spree for seasonal workers so that Christmas wasn't too harsh on the longer term employees. Not that you minded working Christmas if you had to, but the thought your boss put into such things was always appreciated.

Several of you were standing behind the prize counter, running through the ticket procedures and prize counts for the newbies, watching them nod and smile with it being abundantly clear that they had not taken in a single word of your explanation. However forgiving a boss you had, you knew that William would not tolerate laziness and even Henry and his big heart had it's limits. You did feel slightly sorry for them if they met the more abrasive side of your boyfriend however, not that it would be anything but their fault.

Through the noise, you heard your name being called, snapping your head up and giving a polite smile in that direction, the smile widening as you spotted a familiar looking little blonde girl clutching a Spring-Bonnie plushie. Excusing yourself quickly from behind the counter and leaving the new staff in the capable hands of your co-workers to go and say hello.

"Hey Vanessa! How are you doing today?" You asked, crouching on her level and watching her face light up as you remembered her. A gap-toothed smile making your heart melt as she giggled.

"I'm good! Daddy's working so he told me to go play." She said, twisting her body slightly back and forth like she was trying to expel the excess energy. "I know you're working too, I just wanted to say hello!"

"Well aren't you cute? Listen, Vanessa, can I ask you to do a really big girl favour for me?" You asked, watching the little girl's chest puff up in pride at being asked to do such an important task by an adult. You reached into your pockets and pulled out a few dollars that you'd been planning on using for a few cups of soda, but decided giving William's little girl some entertainment was far more worth it. "I want you to take these, and have as much fun as you can with them. Maybe you can win your daddy a prize?" You suggested, watching Vanessa's eyes go wide as she gingerly took the dollar bills, reaching into the pockets of her little purple overalls and pulling out a matching coloured purse, placing them inside with a super big smile. Throwing her arms around your neck in a hug as she practically vibrated with excitement.

"I will! Me and Charlie are going to have so much fun! We'll come show you our prizes afterwards!" Bounding off before you could really process the tiny child around your neck, smiling broadly and standing back up. Feeling eyes on you and spotting Stacey standing a little way back, eyebrow raised.

"You know that's Afton's kid right?" She asked, making you think for a second before nodding slowly. Stacey grinned and came up to you, poking you in the side teasingly, making you swat her hand away as she dug into your ribs slightly. "What, do you have a crush on him or something? Sucking up to his kid like that." Your cheeks turned red at the suggestion, though not quite for the reasons that Stacey seemed to have in mind as she made a shocked gasp.

"I know. But she's our boss' kid and I would rather spend a few dollars to get in his good books. I think she's playing with Henry's kid by the sounds of it."

"You totally have a crush on Afton." Stacey teased, totally missing the response you'd given her, making you roll your eyes as you attempted to walk away from the relentless teasing.

"And? If I did, what exactly are you going to do with that info Stace?" You asked, shaking your head slightly as you headed towards the main area as the next showtime started, watching out for screaming kids as they ran towards the stage to see Freddy, Bonnie and Chica perform.

"Still going to be fun to tease you about it! Even if it's our dirty little secret."

Swatting her away annoyedly, you began to pace the pizzeria, running dishes if they were ready to go from the kitchen and soon getting caught back up in the flow of work. Almost forgetting about Vanessa and Charlie until the lunch rush died down and only a few families remained, also finishing up to go back home or whatever they did when they left Freddy's for the day. You were sure your confetti blouse had pizza sauce and/or some soda spilt down it from kids running about, but your hair stuck to your forehead slightly as you finished running some of the last dishes back to the kitchen. Glad to have a moment's reprive.

Until a little body tackled your legs and almost forced them out from under you with a grunt. Looking down to see what was happening and spotting the top of Vanessa's head, looking up at you with that gap-toothed grin as she hugged your legs before stepping back and gesturing to a dark, curled girl hiding a little ways behind her.

"We're back! Me and Charlie got so many prizes!!" Her sweet enthusiasm making you melt slightly as you looked over the collection they both seemed so proud of. With how bubbly Vanessa was, and how Charlie quietly stood to one side and avoided your eyes, you would have assumed that their fathers were swapped. Not quite understanding how William produced such an extroverted child, but adoring the small girl all the same. "Can you help us pick out which ones our daddy's would like?" Tugging at your sleeve until you nodded in agreement.

Sifting through all the trinkets and toys, you made a selection for Henry and William. Charlie seemed quite pleased with your choice, giving a softly spoken 'thank you' as you picked out the matching Freddy's bracelets for her and him. Vanessa also seemed to vibrate with excitement when you picked out a small bag of candy for William, hoping he had a sweet tooth as the two girls held hands and ran off with all their prizes. Giggling wildly and making you shake your head at how cute they were.

'I wonder if William ever wants more kids one day.'

Cleaning up didn't seem so bad after the interaction with the two little girls, humming quietly to yourself as you worked on making the dining area spotless for the next load of guests. Taking pride in the place in a different light now you knew how much passion was laid behind it, you hoped that you could stay at Freddy's for a long time. Part of the Fazbear Family in more ways than one.

Henry and William emerged from the back after a while, which of course drew the attention of all the staff since they were always curious about the bosses walking the floors. Henry was in another colourful abomination of a suit, whilst William was covered up in mechanics overalls, clearly having been in the parts and services room and tinkering away on some project for a majority of the morning. Each one with a small child on their arm, making you smile as you realised that they were going to have lunch in the dining room with their kids rather than hide away in the back office. Although you felt a small pang that your homemade lunch was going to go to waste that day.

Charlie and Vanessa waved to you as they went past, and you waved back brightly to them, making them both giggle excitedly and both of the men smile at seeing their daughters happy. Henry bending down to pick up Charlie and carrying her over to a booth whilst William simply held Vanessa's hand, keeping her close as he slid in opposite his business partner. Chatting away idly to him about something quietly whilst the girls grabbed Freddy's colouring sheets and some crayons, doodling away quite happily whilst their dads talked.

It was a super cute sight to see, and you noticed a lot of the older staff looking happy at the sight as well, whilst the newer staff just looked mildly confused at the development.

Heading on over after nobody moved for a second, you smiled at the men who both smiled back. Charlie giving you a shy smile and Vanessa practically bouncing in her seat as she recognised you. "Hi miss! Hi miss!" You laughed as she greeted you, hearing a chuckle from Henry and seeing William's cheeks colouring slightly beneath his stubble. Planting his hand on his daughter's shoulder in an attempt to get her to sit down properly in her seat. You could tell she was a menace of a child if they ever went out to eat somewhere. Deciding to see about making Charlie giggle perhaps, since she seemed to be the shyer of the two.

"Welcome to Freddy's folks! Have you been here before?" You chirped in your customer service voice, making the two children giggle wildly as Henry looked like he'd blue-screened for a moment and William raised a thick eyebrow, looking at you over his glasses with humour in his eyes.

"Yep! We're friends of Freddy and Bonnie and Chica and Foxy and Fredbear, and Spring-Bonnie!" Vanessa piped up, making you dramatically place a hand over your heart and widening your eyes and expression into dramatic shock. The little girls giggling at the sight and making you fight not to smile with them.

"You're friends with them?! Well now, I'm friends with them too! I'm surprised we've never met." Exagerating your expressions slightly to send the girls into giggles as Henry recovered from his mild crisis and William leaned back in the booth, the corner of his mouth twitching and fighting a smile just like you were.

"We're far more private friends with them." William joined in, his gravelly voice laced with amusement as he met your eyes briefly, winking at you and making your cheeks flush slightly.

"Private friends hey? Well here at Freddy's, we believe everybody can be friends!" Vanessa and Charlie giggling as they looked over the menus sat infront of their dads before looking up at you with a sense of awe.

"Can I have a mini pepperoni with mushrooms?" Vanessa asked politety, looking at her dad before continuing "And a cola?"

"No cola, Vanessa. She can have juice." William interjected, making his daughter pout cutely at him as the already hyperactive child was denied her sugar rush.

"Please may I have just a cheese pizza?" Charlie asked in her soft voice. You nodded and wrote down the order on your mini-pad from your pocket, watching Henry smile and ruffle Charlie's hair affectionately before he finally turned to you properly.

"She can have a juice too, and what do you say Will, you want to split a pepperoni?" Smiling brightly as William finally allowed his lips to curl up at the edge and smile slightly, glancing back at Henry and then at you once more.

"Sure thing. And two sodas, might as well have the full Freddy's experience." He joked, making you laugh as you wrote it down and put the pad away, clearing the menus from the table temporarily and quickly looking over the kids doodles.

"Alright! I'll get that into the kitchen for you." Smiling brightly as you headed away, hearing the girls excitedly chatting about how you asked if it was their first time at Freddy's. The low murmur of voices soothing any nerves you had about doing something like that as you ripped off the order and pushed it through to the kitchen, the chefs nodding and getting to making it whilst you handed the drinks off to another one of the front of house.

Grabbing yourself a fountain drink and reminding yourself to pay it into the till later, you sipped at it as you glanced across the restaurant before heading back to the employee breakroom to go eat your own lunch. Spotting Garrett in there and animatedly talking to some of the new hires.

"So anyway, Wiffle Bat Willy can be a bit of a hardass." He said, clearly in the middle of a debrief or telling a story as you padded over to the fridge, grabbing the bag with your name on it as you could almost hear the confusion in one of the young men's voices.

"Wait, why's he called 'Wiffle Bat Willy'?"

"Because he clocked a kid in the head with a wiffle ball." Garrett explained and rolled his eyes like it was obvious. Shit-eating grin on his face as he spread your boss' nickname to the newbies, and you somehow knew that this would be a running joke for generations of staff to come.

[anthonsgi]

★’･ﾟ:｡･:*:Rivals to Oblivious Crushes:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★

【Note: Hi there! I wrote this quickly on a school night, that being said, I apologize in advance for any mistakes. (｡•́︿•̀｡) Also, Yanqing is a minor, potentially between 14 and 16 years old, so if you are an adult, please refrain from reading this. I can't control what you do, but take it into consideration. Please request if you have any suggestions, I'm open to all kinds of ideas!】

【Pairings: Yanqing x GN!Reader】

【CW: None! All fluff】

You had outstanding swordsmanship skills, good technique, and natural talent. It didn't take long for the higher-ups to notice you and eventually give you the opportunity to train with none other than Yanqing, one of the best swordsmen of the Luofu Cloud Knights.

The lieutenant in question was an energetic young boy with a passion for swords. What was even more intriguing about him was how competitive he could get and how easy it was to tease him.

"I challenge you to a sparring match... but! We have to do it with our eyes closed!" You looked him in the eyes and struck a foolish pose with confidence.

"You know I wouldn't say no to a duel, but is the "eyes closed" rule really necessary?" he asked, his head cocked to the side.

"Are you... perhaps... afraid of losing to me?" Your mouth curled into a grin.

Without further ado, he was already drawing his sword and straightening his back, even more determined to win.

This rivalry between the two of you was always lighthearted. Some "arguments" ended up with you two peacefully sitting next to one another after a vigorous fencing session rather than bickering nonstop like an "old married couple," according to someone's Jing Yuan's assumption.

Spending almost all of your time together could only strengthen your unusual bond. Teasing remarks were as strong and consistent as ever, but there was also praise, a few pats on the back, and even a hug. Though that became awkward for both of you once you realized what you were doing, deep down, you and Yanqing enjoyed it. Not that you'd ever admit to liking an embrace from him, but the flush on your cheeks spoke louder than words.

The amount of time you spent together didn't go unnoticed by the townspeople, and everyone you'd ask said you were like two peas in a pod, always together as if joined at the hip.

At some point, you began to notice things that you weren't aware of before, such as the way Yanqing's hair bounces with each sword strike, the way his eyes light up whenever he has the chance to show off his collection of swords, and the fact that he constantly seems to be smiling at people when he is not on duty.

You could even say he looked... cute at times. The thought itself made you tremble and rethink your entire existence, yet you couldn't deny that you didn't despise him.

Yanqing had additionally been acting strangely; you would catch him staring at you, and he would blush, hurriedly looking away when you called him out on it.

It made you feel warm on the inside, as though a group of butterflies tickled your insides with their tiny wings.

These changes in your perception of Yanqing were difficult for you to fully understand. But it was normal to want to hold your rival's hand all the time...

Right?

[idyllcy]

vanilla soft serve

Word count: 14.7k

Warnings: smut

Summary: you smile foolishly, the smile of a loser in love

Nagito Komaeda doesn't like himself.

He feels he's established it a lot with his class already. There was little to question when the island only had 16 students and two of them were already dead. Though, he supposes that it isn't that much. He wonders who's going to feed him. He scared Mahiru out, after all. Maybe Mahiru would die from the second motive! That would surely bring his class hope, would it not? He shifts uncomfortably on the wood, trying to get on his back. How pathetic of him.

Little light spills through the room. He had forgotten to ask Mahiru to turn the lights on before she left. He gives up halfway, staring up at the ceiling instead. Would you visit him? His precious little lover? Maybe you would. Who knows. You seemed pretty fine when he had gone insane during the first trial. Maybe you'd leave him for another ultimate. Maybe Hajime? Who knows. Trash like him doesn't deserve to hang on to you anyways. You're such a symbol of hope, yet you were dirtying yourself with him.

The door to the room opens, and the light turns on. He hears you cough twice.

"Did you come to visit trash like me?"

You ignore his words.

Ah. You're mad.

Komaeda holds his breath as you step in front of him, staring down at him. You crouch to his level, buttering the toast, crossing your legs, holding the bread to his lips.

"Angel, are you ma-"

You shove the food in his mouth, forcing him to chew. You stare blankly at him as he does, and he swallows. You press the cup of water to his lips, being kind enough to give him a straw. Komaeda drinks without speaking, understanding that you wanted some sort of quiet. He finishes the rest of the food with your help, staring at you blankly once the tray is finished.

"I'm sorry." The word feels dry on his lips, and he keeps his head hung.

You stare at him for what seems like forever before you stand up with the tray. "I'll be back for lunch."

Komaeda watches the door to the room close, but the light remains.

How kind of you.

You come back during lunch as promised; this time, the atmosphere much gentler.

"Open up," You blow on the rice and meat, holding it to Komaeda's lips. He chews, sitting up this time, his stomach in less pain. He was bony all over, now that he thought about it. You stare at the way his skin sticks to his ribs, and you get another spoonful of rice.

The two of you sit there, Komaeda eating silently, and you lost in thought. You finish the bowl, no rice left behind, and you help the straw to Komaeda's lips. He finishes the juice and pauses.

"Do... you have the key?"

"Give it a moment." You wait for the body announcement to be made, and Komaeda watches as you have Monomi untie him. You follow behind him as he rushes to the bathroom first.

You're still not talking to him.

You wait outside the door as he finishes, and he takes your hand as you reach out to him. You step to the game, and you play. Komaeda instructs you from behind, and the two of you finish. You stare at the prize. Between the killing and executions, Komaeda wonders if you even like him all that much. You hand him the image, and you stare at him. Ah, you want him to talk.

"Well," Komaeda smiles. "I know who the killer is."

"I know you do." You stare at the picture in your hands.

Komaeda thinks you've been strange. Ever since meeting him in middle school, the only thing you had obsessed over was what year it was and what would happen. You had gone to the point of obsessing it to the point of madness, Komaeda thinks. The only thing you had ever talked about when you woke up on the island was who was going to reveal what and what was going to happen to who. You had accurately predicted the death of Twogami, revealing Teruteru as the killer, yet Komaeda had gone mad anyways. You had told him to stay sane during the trip. It wouldn't be the first time someone's been frustrated with him.

Komaeda feels something familiar for you.

You stare at the photo with such a strong sense of nostalgia that it seems hard to believe that it could be anything else. Nagito Komaeda knew something that you did as well. Maybe that was why you picked him. He had the fastest brain that even Hinata couldn't use. Maybe he was meant to be a pretty tool to display in your arsenal that you would never touch. You never let him touch you first, and you never let him do anything without consulting you first. It was as if you had to control what he did.

Yet, he doesn't find it in himself to question you.

He had spent a year in Hope's Peak with you. What did you mean he was eighteen? It was already messed up from the start to you, maybe. Komaeda had watched you panic and only calm down when the future seemed to play out how you predicted it would. You were terribly anxious, chewing on your lips and biting your nails. Komaeda wonders if you had just dated him in order to have a caretaker. Komaeda supposes he spoils you rotten. Well, nothing wrong with spoiling an ultimate.

"What's wrong?" He stares at you as you stare at the sun.

"I miss my home."

Right. There was that too. You had always mumbled quietly when you were fazed out, silently praying for something to kill you. Komaeda didn't understand why you wanted to die so desperately. You were an ultimate, and you had everything you had seemed to want, yet you always talked about home. You missed... your home. It was strange to think that the only constant in his life was desperate to leave him. Maybe he was just destined to be alone.

You had stuck next to him even as Hinata was passed out, and you had rocked on your feet anxiously as he had met the other students, memorizing voice lines and counting fingers. You seemed to hate when you were unfamiliar with things. Komaeda held a hand over yours when you ran out of fingers, helping you keep count of whatever it was you were counting. When you counted to sixteen, you had stopped. You had looked at Komaeda, lips pulled into a frown. "Complete."

Komaeda's handbook had struck a chord when you finished meeting everyone and told him it was complete. His memory of you wasn't like that the more he thinks about it. You had always tried staying positive in the past, even when you seemingly appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the street, head spinning. You didn't know what he was saying. You didn't understand him. You were just a foreigner lost in the streets of Tokyo, and Komaeda had been kind enough to take you in. There was nothing more to it, and there was nothing less.

It's strange to think that you were now fluent in Japanese after only a handful of lessons from Komaeda.

When Komaeda won the lottery into Hope's Peak, you had written a letter to the Steering Committee, claiming you were an isekai victim. Komaeda had vouched, and after some digging into records, yours didn't come up, leading to your admittance. He doesn't know what you had to do in order to join the school, but when you headed home quietly and slumped into the pillows, he knew better than to ask.

The ultimate unknown.

You hated the title, but you had accepted it. In exchange, you were to reveal nothing to the class and stay silent at all times. Komaeda had watched you stop talking to the class, going mute, only communicating with your body language. Even when you had asked Komaeda out, it had been through drawing on his palm away from the sight of the rest of the school. He didn't understand why you had listened to them so thoroughly or why you had grimaced whenever you saw the underclassmen. Though, Komaeda doesn't remember who the underclassmen were either.

His second year at Hope's Peak was on an island. There was no way he would know.

On the island, you still kept silent. The class knew you were quiet, so no one questioned it, but Komaeda had hoped you would at least speak to him. You didn't like to. You spoke even less when he pissed you off. You had known that he would kill Twogami and tried to interfere, and the only thing that resulted in was the murder being pinned on you. Komaeda had half-expected that you would thank him when he explained he planned it, but instead, you had stared quietly at him. It was as if you hadn't cared that he was pining the blame on you and taking it back.

When you had searched the body, you had stared at Komaeda. You hadn't spoke, but you had mouthed the words. He knew what you meant. He definitely knew what you meant. You were just waiting for him to make the decision himself. Even as he was being dragged off and begging for you to understand, you had stared lifelessly at him. It was as if you were desensitized and didn't care at all. Komaeda doesn't know how a person like you exists.

You were weird.

You wander into Mahiru's room, staring at Komaeda, telling him to investigate without a word.

Komaeda thinks he was chosen to be your servant as you leave the cottage.

Yet, as you smack him in the back of his head and bow to Chiaki and Hinata in apology, he thinks you take more than enough responsibility.

Before the trial, you always scribble down what you can and can't remember to hand to Hinata. It's a cheat sheet that Komaeda isn't allowed to look at. He wonders if they're love letters sometimes, but as you're crying and holding back quiet tears in your cottage in the dead of night, he leaves you be. Even if it was a love letter, he wasn't going to let you keep everything to yourself. Hinata had pushed through each trial without error, and Komaeda suspects that you had been behind everything. You were the puppetmaster, maybe.

You even got to punt Monokuma when you were mad enough.

Though, Komaeda stares at you during trials, forming words with your hands and crossing your arms when a student got something wrong. You were charismatic. He didn't deserve you, the class didn't deserve you, the world didn't deserve you. You knew what was going to happen, clinging onto Fuyuhiko with your life as he tried running to Peko, face burrowed into his arm as the rest of the class helped you hold him back. You couldn't speak in front of them, Komaeda had realized. You pull on Komaeda's sleeve desperately. He supposes that's all you need to do.

"Do not atone for a crime you did not commit." Komaeda reads your eyes. "You must survive for her. You must survive for Peko..." Komaeda gets on a knee to wipe the tears from your eyes. "The crime was not instigated by you, so there is no need to-"

"What do you mean it wasn't instigated by me?! I was the one who told her to kill her!"

"A lie." Komaeda holds you to his chest as you cry quietly. "It's a lie. She killed her out of her own volition."

"She-"

You pass out in Komaeda's arms, and Fuyuhiko grabs him by the shirt as Chiaki reaches to catch you.

Ah.

"I was just conveying my angel's words." Komaeda holds his hands up innocently.

You wake up the next morning to Hiyoko's memorial for Mahiru. The class berates the girl as you blow out the candles and replace them one by one. You have Nekomaru help you remove the skull, replacing it with flowers instead. You finish by the time of the announcement that a new island had popped up. Komaeda stares at the memorial, and you pull him with you as you go explore the new island. He praises you quietly under his breath, and you answer quietly too. You stick close to Fuyuhiko with Komaeda, peering at the shorter every now and then to make sure he's alright. Komaeda is almost jealous of how much attention you give him. Yet, you keep Komaeda close anyways.

As expected, the next day, Fuyuhiko tries cutting his stomach open to repent. You react immediately as soon as he speaks, knocking him down and throwing the knife from his hands, cutting your own in the process. You stare at him wide-eyed, holding your hands up in the form of an X. He stares up at you, furious that you would interrupt him, but you stare down at him sternly, only getting up to take the knife before he could. Komaeda watches everything unfold, wondering if he had done something wrong for you to straddle another. He doesn't question it.

Especially not when you press your lips to his cheek later that night before bed as he bandages your hand.

When he wakes up, he brushes his fingers against your hair, mumbling about how pretty you were. You were pretty. He doesn't know what draws him to you, but you're pretty. Maybe he'll wake up every morning to you.

"ah... how filthy," Komaeda doesn't register that his words are coming out wrong. He continues to pour praises about how pretty you are, the fever making it so that he thinks he's praising you. That's when he realizes he's sick. He's feverish all over, and you hadn't spoken when he draped himself on you, eyes fluttering, almost drunk. When the two of you make it to the restaurant, you sit down in a seat, mumbling quietly. You pull him with you as Monokuma explains the new motive. Komaeda's sure he's mumbling nothing but disgusting words into your ear as you support him, but you seem unphased.

As Mikan tends to him in the hospital and you sit in his room, you start speaking.

"Komaeda-kun, I'm sure you won't remember any of this," You hum, turning to look to the side. "But I love you a lot, alright?"

"I hate you too."

Komaeda clings on to you as you sleep next to him, wrapping his hand around yours tightly, squeezing it every now and then. He stares down at your sleeping form. He could kill you here. He could end the motive right there. He has a weak body, and he isn't sure if he could survive if he continues to be sick. He loves you a lot; he mumbles. He's pathetically in love with how pretty you are. He wonders if the words reach you.

The days in the hospital are boring at first. You try playing cards with him, only to find that he's too sick to do so. That only feeds your boredom. At some point, you grow so bored that you start playing smash or pass with Komaeda. He has no idea what you mean, but you show him images and recall celebrities, asking Komaeda smash or pass. At some point, you start naming classmates and students.

"Hinata."

"Half pass."

"Me?"

"Pass."

"Really?" You spring out of your seat, eyes wide, staring down at him.

"You heard me. Pass." Komaeda grimaces at you, and you blink at him happily.

"I'd smash you too."

Komaeda really wants to tell you how lovestruck he is with you, but he supposes he doesn't need to as you climb into bed with him. You blink at him curiously, and he moves his hand to pinch your cheeks. He frowns, his mind telling him that he's smiling. He sneers when he thinks he's mumbling, and he coughs when he thinks his breath is caught in his throat. There are so many weird things going on with his body.

"When was the last time we fucked again?"

"We've fucked plenty."

"I guess that makes sense," You close your eyes, leaning your ear on his chest. "Your heart is beating quickly."

"It's 'cause you're disgusting."

"Whatever you say," You drift off, and Komaeda finds himself staring down at you. He wonders what his eyes look like. Does it look the way that his parents and the couples on the street did? Maybe he does. He wonders how much he could love a person. His heart feels as though it's going to burst at any moment. You were... he brushes your hair to the side, pressing his lips to your forehead. Maybe he wouldn't remember this once he recovered.

How pretty.

In the bright morning, Komaeda feels his lungs tighten and starts coughing. You get out of bed, blinking slowly. Ah. You caught it too. Yet, you call Mikan into the room anyways, watching as she starts tending to Komaeda full-time. You try your best to blink the disease off and come off as fine. You don't know how you're acting. Yet as Mikan holds the pillow in her hand, you remember something. You push her to the ground, eyes animalistic, chest heaving, a psychotic grin on your face. You stare down at her, straddling her, nails bloodied with her skin and blood.

Mikan scurries off in fear, and you sit on the ground, blood from Mikan's skin in your nails.

You bite your nails, lucking the blood, staring at Hinata as he enters the room.

By the time you're conscious again, there are two bodies.

Komaeda's the one to wake you. You sit up on the hospital bed, rubbing your eyes as Komaeda stares at you. The room is an eerie shade of white, and your head spins deliriously as you try and recall what had happened. Komaeda stands there, staring down at you, waiting for you to adjust to the feeling of being conscious again. You hold on to him as you steady yourself, and your mouth opens as you're conscious again.

"Two people died."

You nod slowly.

"Come on."

You follow Komaeda as he starts investigating, and you glance at the two dead bodies. Ibuki is hung on the rope, and you stare up at her body as Hinata lowers it to the floor. You stare quietly; lifelessly; almost as if you were the body itself. You don't feel real, still. Komaeda rubs his hand on your back gently, and you blink slowly. Then, you stare at Hiyoko's body as the ladder is put up to search the body and check for clues. You have a couple of hours, you think. You know who the killer is, and you were so sure that Komaeda might have died if you had not stayed in the same room as him. The rest of the class decides to search for more evidence elsewhere as you and Komaeda stay behind.

"It's a shame," You mumble under your breath as Komaeda searches Ibuki's body. "I liked Ibuki too."

Komaeda stares at you.

"Do you like me too?"

You only nod in response.

He doesn't remember. Komaeda thinks he's forgetting something as he progresses through the investigation. He did something with you. You did something with him. You call Hinata with movie tickets, waving your hand for him. You leave Komaeda in his place as you enter the movie theatre with Hinata. Komaeda only knows to wait outside the theatre, and halfway through the movie, you open the door to pull him in as well. Maybe you didn't forget him. Though, Hinata was sitting next to you. It makes him uncomfortable.

Hinata looks frazzled as you sit back next to him, and you tilt your head.

It was a bad movie, according to Hinata. You point at the ticket, and Komaeda opens his mouth to help you translate. Hinata cuts him off.

"Keep the ticket, right? Thank you," Hinata smiles.

Komaeda gets insecure easily, now that he thinks about it. He stares at you as you slip something to Hinata before the trial, and Komaeda fiddles with his fingers. Maybe you would leave him for Hinata one day. You step back next to him, taking his hand in yours, playing with his fingers. Komaeda's breath catches in his throat, and he swallows thickly. How painful. Were you going to play him even until you decide to leave him? How could you be so cruel?

Maybe he would tell you he's scared one day.

You argue from next to Hinata, explaining everything from start to the end of your memories.

Ah.

Komaeda watches as you blaze next to Hinata, and his heart sinks. You... looked much better with him. Was that your fate? To leave him? Maybe he would be a stepping stone for your hope. There was no way you would love him so much. Komaeda keeps the trial moving as you stare at him. It's like he's reading a script out of your eyes. And the culprit tumbles out of your eyes right onto Komaeda's lips as he turns to stare at Mikan.

"Mikan was the killer." Komaeda stares at Mikan, tilting his head. "Ultimate Despair."

You want to leave your podium and yank him, but he goes on a tangent, and you stare at Komaeda until he notices.

"Ah, angel," He swallows. "Sorry."

Hinata continues with the trial, and you go silent to stare at Komaeda. He... had ruined your streak, didn't he? Of course, he wasn't worth sticking around you, but he had thought just for a moment. Maybe. Maybe you would let him. Turns out he was wrong. He stays quiet for the rest of the trial, letting you do what you were supposed to before he had interrupted.

Mikan is deduced as the killer, and Mikan is executed. You stand on an orchestrated stage, and Komaeda tries going up to you after the trial. You let him stand next to you, but you don't let him talk to you. You aren't responding. Not even with your eyes. You avoid his gaze as he follows you. Even as you sit down in the cottage and pull him into bed, you don't talk to him. Komaeda catches your eyes once. You look hurt.

He's scared to touch you tonight.

Yet, as you snuggle to his back as he seems to be asleep, maybe you'll find it in your heart to forgive him.

Another island is unlocked the next day, and Komaeda's scared to face you.

You get out of bed without reaching to wake him, and you shower first thing. It's strange. He sits in the room as he stares at you leave the bathroom, tower wrapped around your chest.

"I'm sorry," the words tumble out of his lips. "let me... make it up to you?"

You stare at him, tilting your head. "how?"

He steps up to you, getting on his knees, glancing up at you.

"Can I?"

You stare down at him, swallowing. "Yeah."

You pull him to the bed, and he shakes slightly as you sit on the bed.

You're naked before him. In front of him. You're naked from head to toe. Komaeda takes your body in quietly. When was the last time you were bare before him? When was the last time you had let him touch you like this? God, what if he doesn't remember what you like? Maybe you'd push him off. Maybe you'd get even angrier at him. He doesn't realize he's shaking until you're speaking.

"Stop thinking so hard," You frown, reaching for his face, propping up on your elbows.

"Sorry."

Komaeda eats you out desperately. You don't recall a moment when he wasn't writhing to please you to the moon and back. You suppose he drinks up whatever reaction you give to him. His eyes are half-lidded, pressing a kiss to your clit before starting. Komaeda likes taking his time. He's spent hours between your legs drawing orgasms out of your body before finally tending to you, usually leaking and in pain. You wonder if he can feel how painful it is.

Komaeda likes sitting between your legs. He feels it's fitting for someone who should be nothing more than a mere tool to the ultimates like you. You were being kind enough, letting him dirty you with his body. He's a little messy, he thinks, but you like it when he makes a mess. You never berate him for making a mess. Maybe you were a blessing just for him. Who knows.

Your fingers tangle in the sheets as Komaeda sits between your legs, hands keeping your legs opened, tongue prodding and twisting inside of you. Your breathy moans fill the room, your breath quickening as Komaeda grows more desperate to get you to cum. It's strange. Nothing feels right. You usually cum from his tongue alone. Was he getting worse? He's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize you've already cum and you're writhing in overstimulation.

"K-ko," You whine. "S-stop,"

Komaeda stops immediately, apologies spilling out of his lips in terror.

Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, and you close your eyes.

"We'll be doing that a lot more soon," Your breath catches in your throat as you sit up, and Komaeda grabs a towel to clean you off.

Komaeda doesn't understand your words until Monokuma is telling the class that they're stuck with no food until someone commits a crime. You rock on your feet, glancing at Komaeda. He thinks he understands now. Yet, as you leave him outside, heading into the final dead room, Komaeda's uneasy. You bet Monokuma that requires five bullets in a revolver of six. When the sound of a gun goes down and you stare at your hands, you know you won. Glancing at Monokuma, he hands you the file begrudgingly, complaining about how it was pure luck that you had won the file.

Your own name is found, and you stare blankly at the file.

Komaeda watches you return to bed that same night, still silent as ever. He coughs twice, and he stares at you.

"Hungry?" You stare at him.

Komaeda holds his breath.

"What's wrong?"

"You'll find out."

Komaeda has dinner as you do.

Komaeda drags you downstairs with him as the two of you head to Monokuma Tai Chi. A body announcement is made, and you stare across the room. Komaeda helps investigate, and he turns to stare at you. You lead him to the final dead room, laughing dryly as you look at the door again. Komaeda waits for you to get it out of your system before asking you anything. He's the ultimate luck. It'd only make sense for him to enter the room.

"May I..."

"Come back alive." You stare at Komaeda as he opens the door to the final dead room.

"Ah." Komaeda stares down at the book, heart quivering. He has to make a choice, doesn't he? He has to worry about.

This trial, Komaeda keeps silent. You don't tell him to speak, and you don't speak through him either. He feels as if he's stuck. A crossroad of destiny, perhaps. Star-crossed. It feels terrible. Komaeda doesn't know what this does to the two of you. Were you even considered lovers? How could Komaeda date someone that was the ultimate despair even though he was one too? Even as the two of you return home and you don't speak, Komaeda feels his own words caught in his throat, unsure how to ask.

"I'm in a coma," You stare at Komaeda.

"And you're... an ultimate despair."

You blink slowly.

"Yeah."

"What does..."

"We're on even ground," You exhale. "The world ended at our hands. It's that's simple."

Komaeda's voice catches in his throat, heart breaking. He shakes as you sit there, staring at him back in the room of your cabins. The stars spill secrets that neither of you speak up about, and you don't dare to meet his eyes. It was terrifying for you. You didn't know if he would leave you or do something. You get out of bed for the first time since arriving on the island, and your voice shakes as you speak.

"I'll... sleep in my cabin tonight." You mumble, rushing off.

Komaeda sits there without moving until the sun rises.

You're... an ultimate despair. You were an ultimate who caused despair. The entire class was. There was a single person on the entire island that didn't cause despair and it wasn't you. But. But. You had. You had just. You were. You were his entire symbol of hope. How could it be that you had known the entire time? You knew everything. From start to finish, you were orchestrating it all? Was that... what you were? Was he actually just a puppet in your play?

Komaeda checks on you the third day, wondering if you had spiraled as bad as he did. You're in your room, biting your nails, connecting red strings to others, desperate to get your thoughts in tow. There was one last trial. There was one last trial. One final person had to die. You couldn't let a single flaw escape from your fingers for this last trial. You chew on your lip, mumbling words to yourself over and over again. You're going to end up in tears. You don't remember the last time you felt this terrible.

Your hair is disheveled as you arrange the papers again, desperate to find the pattern. You have to know. You can't do it. You can't live knowing you'll never wake up and Komaeda one day will. You can't let him die. He can't die. How could you just let him die? You can leave the death to yourself. Worst comes to worst, you die with him. It's not that hard, right? You were just in a coma in real life. You don't know if you'd wake up with the rest of the class when they're all discharged.

Komaeda stares at you quietly.

"Angel?"

You turn your head to stare at him, deer in headlights, heart racing, dried tear stains on your cheeks. Komaeda has never seen you look so disheveled before. He lowers himself to his knees, brushing your hair back, pausing to see what you wanted. what you needed. You needed him, perhaps. You needed him just as badly as he needed you. He had to remember that. He was useless without you just as you were without him; even if the two of you were an ultimate despair.

"What's wrong?"

You burst into tears, coughing from the tears and pressure of it all. You hack furiously, hiccupping and sobbing into his arms. Drool slips past your lips and snot gets all over Komaeda's sleeve as he reaches to catch you before you collapsed onto the ground and bowed all the way to the ground. He couldn't let you do that for trash like him. But why... why were you crying like that? You looked more terrified than miserable.

"Don't die." You mumble, staring at the floor, still dissociated. "Please don't die. I'll kill myself if you don't do it. Please." Your fingers dig into his skin, and he pauses. You break his pause with more words. "Please don't kill yourself. I'm... I'm begging you. don't die. don't die. Please, don't die. Don't die, Ko. I'll kill everyone else on the island if it makes you feel better since I'm a dirty sinner anyways. I'll-"

"Angel," Komaeda cups your face, tilting your chin to stare at him. "Angel, it's okay. It's going to be okay. Come on-"

You cough, a mess of snot and tears in his arms. You lean in his arms pathetically, throat dry, eyes dead with exhaustion. Komaeda feels bad. Was he the reason you looked so terrible? He should make up for it somehow. Yet, as you cough furiously in his arms and only quiet down after he shushes you quietly, drawing circles on your skin. You look beyond repair. You look as though your entire life was crashing before your eyes, and you were without hope.

"Angel," Komaeda lowers his face to yours. "What's wrong?

You sniff pathetically.

"What's going to happen?"

You refuse to tell him. You stand up instead, staring at the scattered papers on the ground, kicking them all out of order, picking them up, and making Komaeda stand outside as you do so. You go back to sticking around him without telling him anything. You need the final motive, sure, but you wanted Komaeda to stay. Was it selfish? Komaeda reads the words off of you in waves. He sits in the dining room. Maybe reading you was harder for him.

He's not opposed to the idea of killing himself for the better hope. He obeys your word, after all.

"Why are you helping?" Komaeda watches as you tie the rope to him.

You decided dying with him was the best option.

"I'm going to miss her," You sit down next to him, legs tucked to your chest, leaning your cheek on your knees.

"Chiaki?"

"She doesn't have a body," You hum lowly. "You won't ever see her again."

"Ah." Komaeda's eyes widen as you stab yourself with the same knife. "What about you?"

You smile.

You avoid the topic.

"You know, Ko," You trace his face on your arm, "I love you a lot."

"Really?"

"Yeah," You smile. "I hope you remember that."

You die with Komaeda. The two of you sit in the room talking before the rest of the class breaks in, the poison killing the both of you instantly. You don't remember much after that. You wake up in the darkness, looking around. It's boring, you think. It would take at least a day or two for the game to wrap up. The pixels form before your eyes, and you stare at your hand as you end up in the void.

You find yourself wandering in the void, running at some point, walking in others. You're waiting for the system to be shut down so you can go back into the comatose state. Chiaki appears after searching for a little while. You run over to her, sitting down next to her. She smiles at you, handing you a notepad in case you needed it. You ditch it. She's a robot. It wouldn't kill to tell her.

"Are you well?"

"I hope we get to meet again," You blurt.

Chiaki blinks slowly. "You... speak."

You grin. "I do. My real talent has nothing to do with being the ultimate unknown. I am just a fortunate isekai victim."

So you talk with Chiaki. While Komaeda's mind forms a world where which isn't demented, you sit in the void, talking to Chiaki, playing imaginary cards and spilling your secrets. You don't know when you'll wake up. Chiaki reports what's going on outside every now and then, explaining who's awake and who's yet to wake up. Komaeda holds on to his fantasy that everything is normal. You know he does.

Chiaki speaks up one day.

"Your body is showing signs of waking up."

You pause. "Really?"

"Komaeda woke up two days ago. According to Hinata... he's also," She doesn't know how to tell you.

"Just say it."

"Komaeda got hit by a truck. He's conscious but severely injured."

"Is that why I'm waking up?"

"Yeah." Chiaki laughs lightheartedly. "I'll miss playing imaginary cards."

"I will too," You smile at her.

You wake up a day later, sitting up in your pod, blinking slowly at your hands.

Your legs have no strength, you find.

Naegi is kind enough to put you in the same hospital room as Komaeda, and you pull the curtain between the two beds down, grinning at Komaeda.

"Good morning." You smile.

Komaeda smiles back at you.

You do physical therapy with Mikan's help in the room, and your legs are restored as Komaeda is recovered.

"We should get married," You sit by his bed, leaning on your palm as he blinks at you slowly. Komaeda laughs airily, coughing when his lungs start hurting.

"I wonder what kind of suffering I would have to go through if we do."

"I'll bear half of it," You grin cheekily. "Til death do us part, after all."

"But we're not married," He hums.

"Not yet," You rest your head on his hand, humming to yourself. You stare at his ring finger, lips pulled into a smile.

"You plan on marrying trash like me?"

"You're not trash," You close your eyes. "You woke me up from an indefinite coma, did you not?"

Komaeda sighs. "But you were still injured."

"It's better than nothing," You doze off. "love..."

You stay quiet for the most part, making noises and showing improvement in vocal therapy. Komaeda sits with you some days in the wheelchair as you open your mouth to speak. Other days, he does physical therapy on the side while you learn to speak. The two of you return to your hospital room and talk about everything when you finish. There was no need for security when the island was only with so many people.

"What did you learn today?"

"Names," You start counting on your fingers. "Komaeda, Hinata, Fuyuhiko, the list goes on."

"That's it?"

"We start verbs tomorrow since I accidentally pronounced your name a little too well."

Komaeda chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist lazily. "Is it fun?"

"No," You mumble back, voice just as sleepy as his. "I hate it."

There's little to do in a hospital, you think. You play cards with Komaeda when you're bored, and other days you play chopsticks. The majority of the time, the two of you sit there in silence during the day. When it's night, the two of you are too tired to do anything, so there's little to no conversation. Komaeda offers to pretend to teach you how to speak so the two of you can communicate. You refuse him.

You decide a miracle would be funnier.

You start speaking to Komaeda during the day to see who notices first. The two of you bet on different students. Komaeda bets on Hinata, and you bet on Mikan.

You win the bet as you're rambling about how shit the school is to Komaeda on a Thursday afternoon immediately after class and Mikan walks in to check up on you. Komaeda needs to be discharged, so you win the bet instead of him. You think it's a trade-off you're fine with. Komaeda being healed at the cost of anything for you was more than worth the price. You just wished he cared a little more about himself.

"I-If you can speak fluently," Mikan stares at the papers in her hands. "Th-then it's completely pointless to k-keep you here!"

You smile. "I've been able to talk. I just—" You pause to think of the word. "have been told to keep quiet."

Hinata runs check-ups with Mikan on you as you speak to them normally. You're fine to go; you're told. Komaeda takes you back to your shared cabin, grinning from ear to ear as you stretch your arms. It's surprising that you could speak so well. You don't know what to do. You don't know the amount of time that passes from one event to the next, and you chew on your bottom lip as you sit in your room.

Komaeda pulls your bottom lip from your teeth, handing you a cup of tea instead.

"What's wrong?"

You blink slowly. "We have one final event. Has Hinata looked for Mitarai?"

"He has. Why?"

You pause before closing your mouth. You grimace slowly, and Komaeda sits on the floor with you, tilting his head to stare at you properly. You look older. You've aged. Your anxiety is much worse than while in the simulation, and he does his best to fix you. You can't fix someone if you're broken as well.

Komaeda finishes therapy and accompanies you to your sessions, easing you into the sessions slowly. It's an improvement. You learn to calm down and loosen up. It's something about how you have to let go of control. It's scary. Komaeda's told to take care of you to whatever extent he can manage, and make you feel as though you have something to lean on that isn't predestinated knowledge. Komaeda doesn't know if he's really suited for the position, but he doesn't find it in himself to doubt you.

You recover slowly, and it seems as though your recovery process reverts as soon as the third killing game begins. You stare in horror at the livestream while everyone on the island starts gearing up. You don't know what to feel. That was the last you knew about the series. It was the last you knew about anything. It was. It was terrifying. You wouldn't know anything about the future, and you had been living off of the knowledge you had. How... how do you survive? What happens to the remnants? Do they return to the island? Do they go somewhere else? Wasn't the final killing game on the island?

When Komaeda returns on the boat, he brings a small gift with him. You collapse on him as he exits the boat, and Komaeda stays on the ground even as he helps you up. You wipe your tears with a frown, and you pause when you notice he hasn't stood up. You tilt your head, getting back on your knees to stare at him in curiosity. Komaeda laughs awkwardly, getting up. He... he can't just ask you to stay with him in front of everyone. It might make you feel obligated to say yes to him. He presses kisses to your forehead instead, laughing airily and joking about how you took his breath away. You smack him lightly in retaliation, embarrassment all over your face.

But days are mundane to Komaeda once they return to the island. You walk with him in the mornings, and you sit with him during mealtimes. The rest of the class gets along with you well, and the two of you do everything together. Komaeda fears you'll grow bored of him. His hesitation seeps into the things the two of you do normally, and you notice his change in behavior immediately. You never mention anything as he tries to pull away slowly, and you find yourself sitting in empty bedrooms, waiting for Komaeda to return. Some days, he doesn't. Other days, he returns when it's morning and the energy has been drained out of your soul.

You think you're doing something wrong. You don't understand why he's so desperate to leave you. Maybe you're doing something wrong. Maybe you're of no more use now that you don't know the future anymore. It eats you away slowly as you sit at the diner, chewing down breakfast slowly. Teruteru asks if it's because you don't like the food, and you assure him it's not. You wonder if you just have your emotions written all over your face. Though, no one else on the island mentions anything as you eat less and less. You wonder if Komaeda eats at all.

Well, communication is key, you suppose.

You rub your eyes slowly as the sun rises, and you mumble to yourself. Komaeda hasn't come back again.

You close your eyes and fall asleep on the couch. The bed is too big without him around.

Komaeda returns to the cottage to grab his things.

His heart drops to his stomach as he sees you sleeping on the couch. You... you don't like him. Why are you eating yourself away so that you'll continue to like him even if he treats you terribly? You have so many more people that could fall in love with you and date, yet you were killing yourself over someone as unimportant as him. He grabs the blanket from the bed, and he covers you with it, turning around to get his stuff.

"Nagito Komaeda." Your voice comes out surprisingly clear for someone who was asleep. You don't move, but Komaeda can tell you want him to stay.

"I'm sorry." He grabs what he was looking for, and you sob quietly as the door to the cottage closes with a click.

The depression chips at you slowly. You stay pooled in your cottage, relying on classmates sending food to you and only eating small portions. You wonder how bad you must have it when even Teruteru's cooking doesn't lift your spirits. Your talent no longer exists. Is that why Komaeda no longer wants you? You sit there in your room, rotting away, the blanket wrapped around your body, your existence slowly slipping away, dissociating, fading in and out, sometimes bleeding at the wrist and other times bleeding at the fingertips.

But the depression disappears one day as your brain goes into autopilot. You pack your things by yourself, and you stare at the photo of you and Komaeda on the coffee table, putting it face down as you open your laptop to reach Naegi. You want to leave the island. Your talent is the ultimate unknown, so it'd only make sense that you end up somewhere that no one knows about.

You leave the island in the dead of night, your presence completely erased along with it.

You sit in the helicopter, staring at the setting moon and rising sun, watching the stars twinkle out of life and clouds grow more visible. Maybe it was something you were supposed to do from the start. Maybe it was something that you were meant to do. You were supposed to be isekaied by now, right? That was the plan? You chew on your bottom lip as you land in the future foundation headquarters, and you go through the process with a new identity, making your way of life in the remnants of the city, the broken buildings now slowly coming back to life. You try to ignore the lack of consciousness as you do everything.

Komaeda thinks he hallucinated your entire existence when he steps into your shared cottage the day you left. You hadn't been at breakfast for the seventh time that week, and he drops the tray of food at the sight of a clean and neat cottage. It was impossible for someone who was as shattered as you to do. It's impossible. He looks around the cottage urgently, crying, begging, praying that there was a trace of you to remember just for a moment.

There's nothing.

So instead, Komaeda runs back to the restaurant, opening the doors panting. The class turns to stare at him, and his breath catches in his throat as he doesn't know how to explain that you had just disappeared without a trace off of the island. His breathing turns static as he coughs and cries, trying to explain through his pathetic sobs that you had just disappeared, and you were gone without a trace, and that you had just left as if you were never there, and that he wanted to apologize and try to talk it out with you but he had found an empty cottage without anything that could possibly remind him of your existence; it was a terrible thing to think of, and his head spins dizzily. He was going to tell you that his illness was gone and that he would be able to spend time with you again, but you had just disappeared— you were— you just— you just left him alone on an island of ultimates, people who he considered nothing more than classmates and friends when he cared, but you, his lover, the only person in the world to ever tell him that he was worth something and not insult him, was gone, and he couldn't live withou—

Komaeda passes out before he can say anything else, the stress of everything collapsing on him at once. The class rushes him to the hospital, and Mikan and Hinata check his vitals, trying their best to calm his heart somehow before he died of a heart attack. His body fights it, almost as if desperate to die and shatter and break. Komaeda's consciousness doesn't want to live or come back to life. Yet, the two succeed anyway, the boy jumping awake as he's defibrillated back to life.

Komaeda doesn't know why he woke up within a day. He would have rather just died now that you weren't on the island anymore. He starts crying immediately upon waking up, the tears making him choke, snot running down his nose and tears staining his cheeks with tracks and tracks of salt. He thinks he's going to die from how hard he's crying. His breath catches in his throat, the hiccuping killing his lungs. God. Is this how pathetic he was? Was he really nothing without you? Why did he push you away? He should've just let you destroy him next to you—

You suppose you don't suffer any less.

You sit in the coffee shop in the city, and you press the coffee to your lips, planning your next route to nowhere. You want to wander. Your backpack is packed and ready, and you're excited to leave something behind for once. Yet, the sense of dread that plagues your whole body at the thought of leaving your only pillar of support in the universe hurts you. You don't know how to let you. You don't know if you want to know if you even know how to let go.

You receive a letter from Naegi from the island. A letter that was several papers taped together. A letter that rolls on the ground as you open it in front of the man, and a letter that's longer than a senior thesis paper. You read the first two lines, and you recognize it as Hinata's writing. You refuse to touch it at first, waving Naegi off, but all it takes is a mention of Komaeda's name.

It's every single doctor's report for Komaeda's illness starting from the day you left the island.

"What's... wrong?" Naegi watches your resolve waver.

"Komaeda is bedridden and had a heart attack the morning I left the island," You read every single report, and you pause when you reach the end. He still hasn't been discharged.

"Do you have paper and an envelope?" You stare at the man.

Komaeda receives a letter passed on from Hinata detailing a single word, and Komaeda runs.

He takes a helicopter to the mainland, and his heart races in his chest the entire time. He has to find you. It doesn't matter if you'd slap him or break him or shatter him into pieces like he had done with you, he has to have you back in his hands. He knows where you want him to be, and he doesn't know what time it is or why his bones hurt, but he knows where you're waiting, and he'd hate to keep you waiting even longer than he's had you wait. He doesn't know why the two of you are stuck. He doesn't understand why everything hurts him in the way it does, but he does know that he misses you terribly.

He reaches where you want him, sitting down on the same bench when he had met you, and he pulls out the blades from his jacket, cutting two lines to make sure you wouldn't leave before he could apologize. The blood stains his jacket, but he could never be too safe. He grimaces.

You leave your bag with Naegi, stepping up the stairs into Monaca's old tower. You're surprised that there was still one left, and you sit at the top of the stairs, glancing down at the rest of Towa city. You wonder if Komaeda would know that you're referring to here instead of the bench. Maybe he'd realize it after a little while.

So, the sun sets, and you start back down the tower. The walls of it are torn, the brick showing through the wallpaper, and the mold and moss from the natural tragedies during the tragedy. You wonder if Komaeda would remember this place at all. You don't know how many years you spent in the tower with him, doing everything you could for Junko. It wasn't even despair, now that you think of it. You were just enamored with Komaeda. That desperate. Desperate to the point that you'd do anything for him. You wonder if your memories were erased. You don't know.

The place brings bad memories. Maybe it was time to leave.

The sound of running upstairs causes you to stop in your steps, and you stare down at Komaeda.

Komaeda stares up at you, stars in the background, the wind brushing your hair gently, and his legs give out. You rush to him immediately as he cries at the sight of you, and his lungs burn as he tries to catch his breath despite the tears. He clings onto your forearms, mindless babbles slipping past his lips as he cries and tries to explain himself. You catch little comprehensible words. Words like "help" "sorry" and "fault", and you wait until he calms down enough to speak to you, assuring him that you wouldn't leave.

Your heart twists and burns in your chest. You want to cry just as badly as he does.

Komaeda cries in your arms, hiccupping, clinging onto your arm pathetically. It looks familiar. It's like watching yourself break down before the fifth trial, except its Komaeda crying harsh tears over you leaving him. Maybe you came full circle. You don't know. All you know is that you should've never left the island and rotted in your place for a little longer. Maybe Komaeda wouldn't have had heart problems if you had never left. You don't know. You think you hurt him enough.

Komaeda calms eventually, wiping the snot and tears from his face, staring quietly at the tissue. He really was pathetic without you.

"I'm sorry." He manages. "I was going to—" He pauses, averting his gaze to the side. "I was going to... give you a ring when I got off the boat as a promise but I didn't want it to seem like I was proposing because then that would be like forcing you to marry me in front of the entire class—"

"You were going to what?" You stare at Komaeda in your arms, blinking, eyes wide.

"give you a ring?"

"You brought me a ring from the mainland?"

"Y-yeah?"

"How'd you even get one?" Your arms tighten around him, and you rest your chin on his head as you stare down at the stairs.

"Uh," Komaeda stumbles over himself. "I dug around my old mansion."

You laugh, pulling him close to your chest. "From your dead parents?"

"Mom's engagement ring," Komaeda smiles at the sound of your laughter.

"Do you think that's why we fought? The dead's vengeance?"

"Mother doesn't approve," Komaeda hums. "Mother knows best."

"Motherrrrr," You grin, "knows best." You pause, staring at the sunrise. "Would you say yes if I were to propose?"

"I can't live without you."

That's all you need to hear.

Some days you think too hard. Komaeda grows used to it, sitting down with you, the fireplace on, tea in your hands as he sits next to you. He doesn't know what to feel about living a casual, retired life. The two of you are back to a mundane life. The two of you swing back and forth, the sun counting your days. You wonder if Komaeda's going to propose or if he was just saying it to get you back with him.

Though, you suppose thoughts are fleeting.

You grow tired of waiting for Komaeda to propose. You stumble into Souda's cabin one afternoon, staring at him in the eye until he notices you. He yelps as he does, and you as him if he has a metal band. You wonder where you get the talent for being able to do everything as long as you have the audacity to. You bring a mirror into your old cabin, playing with polymer clay and making flowers, gluing them onto the mirror, sanding the ring and making sure you remember Komaeda's ring size as you fall asleep next to him each night.

Komaeda thinks you're up to something, but he stays put. Maybe you were going to surprise him.

The anxiety is much quieter these days, and he finds himself sitting in your shared cabin, waiting for you to come back. You go missing more often. Maybe you're running around the island exploring. You always liked wandering more than anything else. He wonders if you'd pass away on accident one day. Your ultimate talent was scary. Your real one. You could be taken away from him at any time.

"I have a surprise." You peek through the door, blinking at Komaeda rapidly.

"A good one or bad one?"

"Good one," You hum.

Komaeda follows you as you drag him to your cabin, and he pauses at the sight of roses.

"A... angel?"

"I made us a mirror." You fiddle with your fingers.

Komaeda pulls you with him as he steps into the place, and he stares at the heart-shaped mirror. The clay flowers around it cause him to pause, and he stares at the metal band that glistens, hiding in a piece of clay. Komaeda pauses at the sight of the other hole, and he pulls the ring from his pocket, slipping it into the slot, turning to grin at you.

"Ah, it seems-" He pauses at the sight of you on one knee.

"I had this whole speech prepared about how I had fallen in love with you the moment we met, but the second you put my ring in the slot my brain completely malfunctioned and I forgot half of it," You pull another ring from your pocket, and you hold it up for him. "I'm in love with you. Marry me?"

Komaeda blinks at the ring, and he stares at you, rummaging through his pocket.

Your heart rings in your head as he pulls out a ring of his own, holding it to your face.

"If you'll take mine."

You yank him onto the floor with you, wrapping your arms around his neck and laughing.

There are a lot of smiles and giggles with Komaeda while the two of you plan for a wedding. Komaeda lets you do what you want, offering his suggestion when you ask, finding that it's getting easier to read what you want and what you don't. In the meantime, while he does, you tell him how sweet he is to you, pressing kisses to his cheeks, letting him know you were sure about what you were doing. It was turbulent, you think. Komaeda seemed scared you would change your mind at first.

You remind him that you care about him quietly at night, tracing circles on his chest.

He watches you fall asleep at night, and he can't help the nasty thoughts that spiral in his mind as he bites back quiet moans as you're asleep next to him, bare skin kissed by the moon and water from the shower still fresh in your hair. He feels bad, whimpering and gasping as he plays with himself next to you, but surely you wouldn't mind, right? You never have; You've let him do whatever he wants. You've even mentioned letting him do whatever he wants to you while you're asleep, but he couldn't possibly soil your body with him.

You don't wake up. You've always slept deep, he finds. He could completely defile you head to toe and you wouldn't even notice as long as he cleaned you up. He parts your lips with his thumb, pressing a kiss to your lips before wiping himself down with a tissue, snuggling his head into your chest, falling asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

Komaeda is less slick than he thinks he is.

You wake up earlier than him some days, staring at the stain on the sheets, stretching your arms, and reaching into his boxers. He tends to wake up with morning woods, his hormones still unbalanced despite his age. You don't know. You never studied the human body extensively. So, you do what you normally do, fingers freeing his cock from his boxers, spitting in your hand before running your hand through the slit to collect his precum and giving him a handjob. Some days, Komaeda wakes up with your mouth around his tongue, other days he wakes up to you reading a book while your hand is wrapped around his cock. Either way, he wakes up to himself moaning pathetically while you suck him off. He caught you kicking your legs once. He doesn't understand why you enjoy pleasing him, but he doesn't find it in himself to complain.

"I want snowdrops at the wedding," You pause. "On the dress, not the wedding. I'm not planting more flowers on the island when we already have a farm."

"It wouldn't hurt to get flowers planted."

"We're having a beachside wedding because you insisted it be one to match my fantasies," You glance at the flower catalog Naegi sent you. "Maybe I'll get a blue iris bouquet."

"Anything you want," Komaeda hums, staring at a suit catalog. "Can I just wear white?"

"Yeah." You pause. "I'm kicking you out when I pick the dress, by the way."

"And let Hinata take your nude measurements alone?"

"Sonia and Peko are going to be there," You grumble. "They've had it done before."

Komaeda pouts.

"You'll get to see it at the wedding. Isn't that enough?"

"Can I paint something for the wedding?"

"We have to plan gifts for each other, do we not?" You hum. "Like... I don't actually know what I'm going to get you."

"It's fine," Komaeda closes his eyes, the vibrations from his humming warming your skin. "I'll just spoil you rotten."

"What if I get used to it?"

"Then that would be the greatest blessing possible." Komaeda smiles.

Some days, you wonder how you ended up with Komaeda. You had been blinking slowly in and out of consciousness over a world that wasn't yours when you landed out of nowhere on top of Komaeda, and now you were planning a wedding with him. Other days, you wonder how you asked a complete stranger in English to live at his place temporarily, and now you were his home. You, a human, are his home. You gasp and twitch as he curls his fingers in you, cutting off your thought process.

"What were you thinking of?" Komaeda stares up at you from between your legs.

"A-ah," You whimper as he goes back to fingering you. "You-" You exhale. "I was thinking of you."

"Me?"

"Y-yeah," You hide your face in your hands as he presses a kiss to your clit. "H-how we met."

"You were an angel who fell out of heaven, I was convinced," The rest of Komaeda's words are muffled as he goes back to eating you out, eyes half-lidded as he focuses on you feverishly. You don't know where he gets the energy to stay between your legs when he can barely survive a round with you. The sounds of his tongue in you fill the room as you flush from how lewd it all sounds. You're embarrassed again.

"K-Ko," You whimper.

Komaeda raises a brow to stare at you, drawing hearts on your thigh as he goes back to eating you out when he notices it's just embarrassment. The coil in your stomach tightens as your hand threads through his hair, your thighs closing around his head as your orgasm approaches. You squirm before you do, and you let out a salacious moan as you cum on Komaeda's tongue for the nth time that night. You squirm from the overstimulation as the orgasm fades, and Komaeda wipes the cum from his face, licking off of his hand as he spreads your legs.

He pumps himself twice before pressing the tip of his cock to your clit.

"What's wrong?"

"S-sorry," Komaeda mumbles, kneading the skin on your hip. "T-thinking."

"About?"

"How far, ah," He whimpers as he fills you, resting his forehead on yours. "we've come." He blinks slowly as you push his hair back, leaning up to kiss him. "And how you're," He starts thrusting, slowly, almost as if he were cherishing you slowly, "underneath me, bare skin, and all." Komaeda thrusts steadily as you murmur for him to speed up, cheeks warm and skin flushed. Komaeda thinks you're pretty like this. He always thinks you're pretty, but you're just breathtaking under the moon, the white haze making you look holy. You were his angel. The angel that dropped into his life as he felt his life shatter in his hands that same day.

Komaeda's brows furrow as he feels himself get close, thrusting growing desperate, thumb on your clit, rubbing desperately. The coil in your stomach tightens, and your eyes widen, reaching for Komaeda's neck, squealing about how you're in love with him and how you're desperate to marry him and settle down, your overstimulation making your head spin, the words not registering as you cum on his cock. Komaeda's head rings from the praise you give him, a waterfall of pet names spilling. "Y-you're so pretty," You gasp. "Gorgeous. I think you were blessed by Aphrodite or something. Pretty. Pretty, pretty boy." You whine as he chases his own orgasm, your nails digging into his shoulders. "i love you so much. So much. K-ko, I'm so p-painfully in love with you-" You gasp as he cums, spilling into you with something between a whimper and moan.

He stays inside of you for a moment, waiting to catch his breath as you wipe the sweat from his forehead.

"Good boy," You smile, running your hand through his hair. "Such a pretty, good boy."

Komaeda laughs airily, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand. "I love you too."

You turn your head to stare, and you pause. "We left the window open."

"Pray that Souda doesn't scream at us tomorrow," Komaeda pulls out of you, his cum trickling out of you, causing Komaeda's voice to catch in his throat. "You're pretty."

"You tell me that a lot," You sit up, pressing a kiss to his temple.

"I mean it," Komaeda relaxes at your touch, tension leaving his shoulders. "I mean it."

"I know you do," You get off the bed, grimacing at the sweat on your skin. Komaeda lies on the bed as you walk into the bathroom, coming out with a rag to wipe him down. Komaeda lifts his arms weakly as you wipe him, exhaling when you finish, pulling you for a kiss.

"Can I sleep first?"

"Of course," You press a kiss to his forehead. "Always."

The moon spills past the windows as you stare at Komaeda's chest rise and fall, skin paler than normal. You rest your hand on his hip, tracing circles on his skin, lashes fluttering as sleep threatens to take you. It's quiet, you think. A nice quiet. the type of quiet that you could grow used to, and a type of quiet you had wished for before getting isekaied. You don't want to leave him. You hope he reincarnates with you when the two of you die.

Komaeda blinks slowly in the morning, body sore. Though, his arms aren't as sore as they used to be. He blinks slowly, turning around to face you. He stares up at you, lashes fluttering, lips parting as he presses a kiss to yours. You're pretty. When the sun illuminates the room and the waves recede, you're gorgeous. The golden streaks of the sun reflect on your hair, and each individual cell of your body. Komaeda doesn't know what he could consider prettier.

"Mm?" You furrow your brows, Komaeda sitting up to cover the sun from your eyes. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Komaeda smiles.

"You're so hot," You yawn. "I'm so happy I'm marrying you."

Komaeda's cheeks redden, his heart racing. "love you too..."

The clocks on the walls pass quicker as the two of you get ready for the ceremony itself. Komaeda doesn't know what to feel. He's going to get to call you his wife. His spouse. He's going to be married soon. If he told himself back at Hope's Peak, he doubts he would believe himself. He's marrying you.

You sit up and rub your eyes, exhaling slowly. You stare outside the window, tossing the covers over your head again.

"I'm going back to bed."

Komaeda blinks slowly, snuggling closer to you. He doesn't want to get up either. He closes his eyes, only pausing when he remembers something important.

"You have to pick the dress today." He mumbles into your ear.

"Nevermind!" You jump out of bed, stretching your arms. Komaeda smiles as you yawn. "Do you want to see me in anything?"

"Do whatever you want," Komaeda smiles.

"I'm going to wear your servant chain to the wedding if you tell me to do whatever I want," You deadpan.

Komaeda chokes, coughing uncomfortably.

"Or the bedroom," You rub your eyes. "I think it'd be cuter in the bedroom."

"You kept my clothes?"

You blink at him owlishly. "I kept everything you ever had."

Komaeda doesn't know what he's supposed to feel when you actually pull out the chain that was originally around his neck. Komaeda returns home, supporting himself on the wall, pulling his shoes off, pausing at the sight of you in his sweater and chain.

"I swear this isn't-"

"Stay in it." Komaeda tosses his jacket to the side, stepping up to you, pressing his lips on your temple, smothering you in kisses. "Can I fuck you in that?"

"Yeah," You scrunch your nose as he kisses further down your neck, biting, tracing circles on the teeth marks, staring quietly. "God, you're so pretty."

You flush from his words, and he pulls the bottom of his shirt up, revealing your boobs. He pries your lips open, having you bite on the hem as he thumbs the bud of your tits, pinching it to get a reaction out of you. Your skin jumps as his lips close around the other bud, swirling his tongue around it. Your leg wobbles, and Komaeda has you sit, the tips of his hair tickling your chin as he continues his ministrations. Your fingers dig into the sheets, soft pants slipping past your lips as Komaeda takes your quiet moans as a sign of encouragement.

He pulls away, a string of saliva following him, and he blinks slowly at how your legs have bucked. You stare at him as he pulls away from your chest, deer caught in headlights, heart ringing in your ears. You don't know when he got so perceptive. The hem of the shirt is still between your teeth, and Komaeda pulls the cloth from you.

"Pretty angel, doing such a great job," He kisses you as a reward, lowering his head, pressing a hand to your thigh as he scrunches the shirt up to reveal your pussy. He pushes your legs open wider, pulling you closer to him, getting onto his stomach, pressing a light kiss to your clit before mumbling quietly. "itadakimasu," He delves in, sticking his tongue in first, making sure to savor your taste. Your thighs quiver, and he holds them apart as he continues, stopping you from suffocating him. You throw your head back, muffling the sounds from your mouth with your palm.

"Angell," Komaeda slurs, replacing his tongue with a finger. "please let me hear you..."

You move your hand slowly as Komaeda sits, hand reaching for the chain, pulling on it, forcing you to lurch forward, the collar cutting your breath off. You gasp as he does, whimpering as you feel Komaeda curl his finger in you, looking for the place you liked it best. You gasp, propping yourself onto your elbows to try and breathe. Your breath hitches as he slides a second finger in, your arms shaking.

"K-Ko," You gasp as he pulls on the chain again.

"Yes, angel?"

"I wanna cum," The coil in your stomach tightens as you tighten around Komaeda's fingers. Komaeda obliges, letting the chain go from his hand, pressing his thumb to your clit, drawing rapid circles. You cum with a cry, drenching his fingers, your legs shaking. You whimper as he pulls his fingers out and licks them. Your eyelids flutter, chest heaving for air.

"Can," Komaeda swallows slowly. "can you ride me?"

You nod slowly, waiting for Komaeda to strip and lie down. He makes a show for you, unbuttoning his shirt painfully slow, pulling his belt off, body weight resting on one side of his body, hips jutted out. You swallow the saliva threatening to spill from your lips. You climb over him, letting the cum from your orgasm lube him, positioning him slowly. You watch as Komaeda wraps his hand around the chain again, pulling lightly as he bottoms out in you. You pant, whimpering, the remnants of your orgasm making your walls still sensitive.

"So pretty for me," Komaeda pulls on the chain lightly. His shirt scratches and causes your body to itch, the fabric painfully uncomfortable. You remember why you didn't like it anymore. Well, as you start bouncing on his cock slowly, one hand on the chain and the other tangled in the sheets. You stare down at him as he pulls the collar, forcing your chest to his face, and you whimper as his lips latch onto your nipple, sucking ever so gently. You force your body weight onto your elbows, your bouncing turning erratic.

Komaeda helps you, thrusts matching your rhythm. You whimper as his other hand rests on your hip, drawing lazy circles as you feel your orgasm approach again. You gasp softly, biting your bottom lip harshly as you feel your orgasm approach again. Komaeda forces your chest to his face, letting go of the chain and moving his other hand to your ass. You cum on him with a cry as he bites on your nipple, the hickey bright red on your chest tightening on him like a vice. Your chest heaves as he chases his own orgasm, your legs shaking from overstimulation. You whine as he spills into you. Komaeda babbles incoherently as you collapse on top of him, pulling the shirt from over your head. The collar and chain remain around your neck, and Komaeda pulls you down to press a kiss to your cheek.

"You're so, so beautiful," Komaeda mumbles on your lips, pressing lazy kisses to your skin.

"I love you too."

Komaeda's anxiety charts as the wedding gets closer and closer. He finds himself staring at sharp objects for far too long and foods that he knows would be bad for him even longer. There's a certain sense of anxiety as he stares a little too long at dangerous items nearby, and you find yourself tracing circles on his skin and reminding him that it was fine. You didn't mind his luck cycle. Even if it rained on the big day, you could just run down the aisle with an umbrella.

You sit in your cabin, smiling as Hiyoko arranges your hair with a huff, complaining about how you had such nice hair but never took care of it. You laugh as she weaves flowers into your hair, and Sonia has you hold still as she does your makeup. Mahiru moves between cabins, snapping photos of both you and Komaeda. Ibuki arranges the music as Peko invites the few future foundation members to their seats. You don't know how you got here, really. Your heart causes your breathing to get anxious, and you grimace slowly.

"Hey," Sonia pauses, having you stare at her. "It'll be fine. No anxious thoughts. It's your wedding day."

You exhale as she has you breathe, and your shoulders relax.

"It looks like it's going to rain," Mikan mumbles. "Did we bring an umbrella?"

"I did!" Akane closes the umbrella, stepping into the room. "Wah, how pretty!"

"Thank you, Akane," You smile.

Komaeda's words serve true, rain pouring down on the day of the wedding, and you laugh as the tail of your dress stains with rainwater. You'll think of it as a fond memory. You know you will. It'll be fun to explain to people who ask why your dress is stained brown and say that you got married in the rain to the love of your life. It's a sense of acceptance. You blink at Komaeda as you get ready to walk down the aisle, and you decide to run. You're excited. Komaeda's dressed head to toe in white, and he looks ethereal. You'd love him forever, you decide. You ditch the umbrella, only stopping as you bump under his. It was big enough to fit the two of you.

"Would you like to swap shoes? Running in heels in the rain is a little..." Komaeda raises a leg to slip his shoe off before you stop him.

"I want to run in the rain, in heels, with the love of my life," You laugh, resting your hand on his bicep, leaning your head onto his shoulder.

Impostor gives the opening speech, and you grin happily as you open the letter you had written, holding a newly brought, clear umbrella.

"To Nagito Komaeda," You clear your throat carefully. "I landed in your lap in the blink of an eye, crashing into you on the street from above. It was comedic, it was strange, and it was new. I had never gotten hit by a white truck before, and I was nowhere expecting to end up in this world of all places. You're a fan favorite in my world, and the fact that I'm being blessed with an opportunity to marry you like this is incredible. It feels strange. It felt like just yesterday when I was asking you in a foreign language whether or not I could stay with you until I found a home, and now today we're getting married. I know you like to say that it's a blessing to marry me, but I think the real blessing was falling in love with you."

You pause to breathe, glancing at Komaeda, wiping his tears already.

"I was horrified when I saw the letter detailing your frontaltemporal lobe dementia. I was determined to find some way to fix it, whether it be through someone as obscure as the ultimate neurologist whom I had only heard of once or twice. I was blissfully in love with you as I had always been. I do not remember a moment when I haven't loved you to the moon and back." You swallow, tears welling in your eyes. "Even when you were nothing more than a mere servant under Monaca, I was desperate to do anything for you. I had forgotten that the tragedy was something that you would have despised had you found out I was an ultimate despair, but I was so desperate to love you and to show you how far my love went that I went insane."

Komaeda thanks Hinata as he takes the handkerchief, crying silently into it.

"But I knew that we would love each other. I knew that you and I would love like no other, and that the sun would die and the moon would break, but there would never be a moment where I wouldn't stop loving you because I couldn't stop loving you. You were as vital to my existence as any basic commodity was. I could wither and die like the flowers you picked for me at Hope's Peak and I would still love you desperately." You pause, collecting yourself. "Because you were just that important to me. You were something that I desperately, insanely wanted. You meant the world to me, and I was willing to let everyone else burn just so I could see you live."

You cough, trying to hold back tears. "And when we had fought, I was so desperate to leave because the only thing I knew how to do was to run away. Yet, I don't know why I stayed in that tower all night until the sun was peeking from the east. I don't know why I had held onto you so desperately as you had cried in my arms, but I'm so terribly elated that I had stayed, because I wouldn't be here if I had just ran away like I always did. I wouldn't have been in our room, staring at the ceilings and counting the stars in your eyes, watching you breathe peacefully, because I would have never been able to experience anything if I didn't stay with you. I read once that love was a choice," You exhale. "So my choice, in the simplest terms," You wipe a tear from your eye. "Is to stay by your side, for better or worse, for life or for death, and until the universe would forcibly tear my heart and soul and mind away from you, I will stay with you until all that is left of me is nothing, for I know that I would love you for all of my days, even if it decides to kill me. Because even if I'm the ultimate isekai victim in my next, life, you'll always be my husband, lover, and my home in a world that despises me so much."

Komaeda wipes his tears, eyes puffy, brows furrowed, slightly embarrassed at how much of a mess he probably looked. He coughs, waiting for his tears to calm before staring at his letter. He sniffs a little, opening the letter carefully, almost as if he were scared to break the wax. He adjusts the umbrella in his hand, and he opens the letter carefully. There are words written on the front and back.

"To my angel," Komaeda reads, adjusting his umbrella. "When you had first told me to write you a letter, I thought you were saying just to write down whatever thoughts I had."

You thank Sonia as she hands you a handkerchief.

"When I first met you, I thought I was insane." Komaeda laughs to himself. "I was just thrown out of the trash, a couple million dollars on a lottery ticket. I had the ticket in my pocket, and I remembered how each year, each terrible year, I had prayed at the shrines during visits that somehow, somewhere, there would be someone who would make living worth all the suffering I had to go through. I was so desperate to be in love and to have someone who cared about me to the point of destruction like my parents were with each other. I was dying for someone to love me, and as if the universe had heard my prayer that built up over the years, you appeared. You fell from the sky, and for that short moment in my life, I was starstruck at the sight of you." Komaeda sniffs. "I was painfully in love with you. You, who had spoken barely any Japanese upon meeting me, and you who had tried drawing a white truck killing you, I was in love with you. You were so charming in my eyes. I didn't think of a day where I would have to live without you."

Komaeda wipes his tears again, coughing quietly. "I had fallen in love with you so naturally that by the time I was a remnant of despair like you had predicted, I thought that the only way to cause despair was through the death of you, but my consciousness couldn't allow it. I was frail, broken, shattered, so I thought the best sort of despair would have been to work you to the bone and have you fall out of love with me. I failed. I'm glad I failed." Komaeda sniffs, glancing at you in tears, crying into the handkerchief, hiccuping.

"And during that killing game, I died with you." Komaeda laughs airily. "I thought you would surely leave me and try to survive. I had given you a gas mask, yet you stabbed yourself to make sure that my plan would go along, and the two of us were gone. Dead. You were in a coma because I had forced you into one before leaving for the island, and I was in a coma because I had prayed and prayed for a world where everything was together and in one piece. I wanted a world where the two of us could live without the tragedy. A world where we were all classmates, and Chiaki was still alive. To me, it was a world where the two of us were in love and my luck wasn't killing anyone. I woke up and cried. I had to be in a world with you in it, so I thought it'd be chance that my luck would save you. I'm glad it did."

Komaeda turns the paper.

"I love you to the moon and back, and I love you until the sun burns out and the moon dies from heartbreak. My life is supposed to be a mosaic of everyone I've loved, but instead, it's just a painting of you. From start to finish, from the moment we met to the moment we'll die, everything will be influenced by you and you alone. I'll fly you to the moon and burn from the sun just so that you could live without worry. And when I wake up in the morning, I'll hide you from the sun's rays burning your eyes and kiss you until you grow tired of me. I'll do anything and everything so that you'll know how much I love you, because I finally, finally, found the person that I wake up each morning, smiling all silly at because of how much I love you." Komaeda exhales shakily. "So this is my vow to love you until the world shatters and my soul can't reincarnate with you anymore. Know that no matter how much the world will kill me, I'll never leave or break you. I love you, my angel, my world, my heart, and my home."

You wipe your tears quietly, and Souda hands the two of you the rings. Komaeda slips it onto your ring finger, pausing to stare at it. You hold his ring, pausing when you notice the tears pricking the corner of his eyes. You reach to wipe the tears, wiping his tears with your handkerchief as he sniffs quietly. He mumbles a quiet apology, lifting his hand so that you can put his ring on. He wipes his tears as you wait for his vision to clear a little so that he could look at you.

You slip the ring on, a stupid smile on your face, the smile of a lovesick fool.

Impostor starts again. The moment you think you've been waiting for your entire life. Your heart rings in your head, and you can almost hear Komaeda's heart beating in his chest.

"You may now kiss the—"

You feel bad for interrupting Impostor, but as you press your lips to Komaeda, throwing your arms around him in glee, the umbrella falling to the side as Komaeda's caught off guard, you decide it's fine. Though, Komaeda doesn't complain as the familiar feeling of your lips on his causes him to relax into your arms, hands wrapping around your waist instinctively. His lashes flutter as he tilts his neck to get more comfortable, and the rain soaks his hair. He might catch a cold from this, but he supposes he would only get married once. It didn't matter how his luck cycle would affect him.

The rain ceases over your head, and you pout when you pull away. "I wanted to run in the rain with you."

"It'll rain later," Komaeda hums. "We can run when it's later at night. Just the two of us"

You blink slowly, staring at Komaeda as you pause.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[desultory-novice]

He'll Branch be like:

Even in Hell, miracles can happen.

Noir: 😃

But not for you. Suffer forever, teenage boy!

Noir: 😢

"Yeah, Dess! What did teenage boys ever do to you, huh?!"

...I thought that's what everyone's teenage years were like! XD

But your comment did lead to this bit of inspiration...

Noir: "Is this...all there is?"

Magolor: "To the afterlife? Don't ask me! I didn't even know building a theme park would work til I tried it! (I don't remember too much about it because I was massively hallucinating at the time. Max says I don't have to worry about litigation if anything breaks because everyone's already dead! ...You didn't hear that, by the way.)"

Magolor: "I thought you'd been here longer than me, actually."

Noir: "Yeah, I guess... I just kind of...zoned out through most of it. Kind of hoping...if I stopped thinking, I would disappear..."

Noir: "I... I'm only 16, you know? And...I only made one real mistake. Or... maybe everything was a mistake. Because every stupid decision I made on my own just made things worse."

Noir: "...Maybe the mistake was being born, I don't know."

Magolor: "Hmm. My boyfriend is damned for a near-eternity just because he 'whimsically' tried to take something for himself that belonged to everyone..."  (And it's going to BE an eternity if he doesn't stop pulling dumb pranks that add hours onto his clock!)"

Magolor: "I thought I'd done far worse than he had, but I feel like I got off lighter, even with this thing rooted deep into my head." 

Noir: "...What, the literal clown who pranked my sister? Who's always laughing like a drugged out fiend all the time?"

Magolor: "The very same! He used to love flying. Said it was the greatest, most freeing feeling in the world. ...He has to waddle everywhere now very, very slowly or he falls apart - and he hates it."

Noir: "...You know what sucks also? Not having hands."

Magolor: "Or to have them but not have control over them! ...Marx laughs because he would never admit to anyone how hard it is. And even though he can't stop pranking people, he's secretly terrified of being left here alone as the very last one of us damned souls."

Noir: "..."

Magolor: "...I don't know what it is that makes some lives harder than others. Why some of us live in a frankly blissful world of naps and sunshine without a thought in their round pink, friendly heads while some of us live to see everything we wanted, even the simple dreams, ripped away from us. And I don't know why half the patrons here are physical manifestations of nightmares and nihilism and death while the rest of us just wanted to be pretty, or prosperous, or strong, or have friends, or to protect someone they loved..."

Noir: "...Yeah..."

Magolor: "I thought if I built the best possible theme park, I could make everyone smile and shout with joy. My own little universe where I was in control. Not the harsh reality. But...this place is only a short-term fantasy. A game of pretend that fades as soon as you look away and see that the rest of the world is still on fire."

Magolor: "I haven't known you that long, and though you buried my boyfriend in the lake of fire, I think you deserve to be saved. To have everything good that was taken away from you and then some."

Magolor: "Despite a long time being used as a host for limitless power, I can't give you any of that... But I can promise, for you at least, the rides and games in Merry Magoland will always be free."

Noir: "...Guess it's something. And starting from nothing... it's a lot."

Noir: "Oh, but get rid of the mother%$!& tea cups for me!"

Magolor: "I could repurpose the land to build a 'Scope Shot' arena. There's been a lot of requests for that one to come back."

Noir: "'...Scope Shot?"

Magolor: "Interested? I've got some gameplay footage right here!"

Noir: "Wow, what are these, PS1 graphics?"

Magolor: "......"

[hexfloog]

07/16/2023

Overarching content warning for language and graphic violence. Accompanying illustration here.

Sorry, this one isn't on AO3 (yet) because there's still text to be written for the other half of this scene.

---

Heiji hefted himself onto his elbows, the fire licking greedily at his ankles. 

Tch. Now it looked like Kudo, but it still acted nothing like him.

Smoke choked his lungs, ash coated his throat, and he could barely see... but he saw the silhouette ahead of him, distorted by the heat, and dressed in familiar clothes... its face and the hideous, triumphant grin it wore framed by familiar shapes. 

The dolls lay sprawled before him, gracelessly thrown asunder by their desperate escape and now lit orange by the fiery glow which surrounded them.  As the estate burned, the scattering embers threatened to set them ablaze, too.  He dragged himself forward in an attempt to shield them as best he could, and in spite of his aching bones, reached out to collect them--

He screamed.  The crack of his fingers splintering underfoot rendered him incapable of anything but unending, primal wailing.  He felt sand touch places inside his fingers he knew should never feel anything, and through tear-stung eyes and clenched teeth, he saw the pretender's clawed hand scoop up the Shinichi doll before he could.

"How peculiar," it chuckled, its eyes shining bright with sadistic glee.  Heiji winced; its voice was Kudo's now, too, and even though it had a body to match, it was still wrong.  "Hattori Heiji starting his own little collection of dolls in secret... At your age, I would think you'd be more interested in blowing them up.  Does anyone else know about this?" it leered.

"It's okay," it laughed, its shark-toothed smile winking in the light of the hellfire.  "I'm good at keeping secrets, too.  I won't tell.  You can trust me."  With a low, self-assured purr, it wagged the real Shinichi at him and, pinching his felt limbs between its claws, made it dance like a child playing puppet theater.

Heiji grimaced, choking down his agony, but as he tried to crawl forward again, his eyes shined white; the world flickered against his will, and when the curtain pulled back again, he was greeted by a blinding light, devoid of describable shape but filled with the pain of his entire lifetime.  As distinct as a a swarm of insects, he could vaguely feel them in the light: two identical Kudos, one strangling the other, just feet away from the fire.

He panicked a little, yeah. There was still someone out there he needed to get to before it did. He still couldn't see a thing, but tried to heft forward again anyway; in response, the Kudo-thing applied more pressure to his woefully broken hand, and another scream filled the air.  It chuckled, amused, and visibly drinking in his misery, lifted its head to the destruction around them.

"Give it up, Hattori," it sneered.  "It's over.  You've lost."

Heiji suppressed a whimper.  Between his fucking hand and his godforsaken voids-for-eyes, he almost believed it.  Almost.  But in spite of himself, he scoffed at it.  "Yer still haven't-- haven't learned a thing, have you," he growled, turning his head so he was staring right at the spot where he felt the false Shinichi to be.  "I told ya... There ain't a force in the world more stubborn than K-Kudo an' me."

It growled right back.  Somehow, the noises it made were even more misplaced coming out of Kudo's mouth than it ever was from Conan's.  Heiji didn't whimper, but he gasped as he felt its cold hands slam up against his jaw.  The contrast was surreal, considering every other part of him was practically on fire.

"Big words for a dead man, Hattori," it snarled.  "Keep talking all you want, but you know it as well as I do: there's nothing you can do to change that I've won."

It pulled him closer.  Heiji didn't think it was possible for the light to burn brighter.  Its presence, just inches from his face, was overwhelming.  He'd felt its infernal power before, washing over him like the hot, stinking breath from some hulking beast, but it felt so much worse now that it was no longer hiding in the shape of a child.  There were things pushing against the veil, and even in his temporary blindness he still perceived teeth and a tongue and terrible red eyes, all pointed towards him like knives in the dark, and somewhere amidst it all was his friend, clutched in its wicked grasp. 

Christ, he hated how he couldn't-- fucking-- move.

But, he managed. 

“Yeah, ya idiot,” he choked.  “That’s what happens when yer don’t lose.  Yer win.”

Its temper flared.  He almost laughed, knowing he’d pissed it off.

But he blanched when it spoke again.  "I know you can see me, Hattori," it scowled, with a hint of amusement, "which means you can see them, too."

It dropped him suddenly and stepped off his crushed hand.  Somehow, he caught himself on his good wrist just in time to retch.

As he caught his breath, Heiji screwed his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to draw the curtain again.  But it was no use; the Sight still would not leave him and, to his horror, his consciousness began to taste another presence emerging from the smoke.  And another... and another... all closing in on him like a pack of wolves.

His first instinct was to leap forward and grab Ayumi, who was still lost in the void somewhere, but goddammit, everything hurt.  He pushed a few feet forward before stumbling and landing on his chest again, slowed by the sand and all the pain that rendered him immobile.  The fire, too, still licked relentlessly at every part of him.

Shit, he couldn't think.  Who were the others?  Where did they come from?  What the hell did they want?

For once, his resistance faltered and he tried to tap into the veil instead, his cognizance swimming into the sun in search of answers.  He expected to find more monsters like Conan, but instead he only found memories: faces he hadn't seen in years, vengeful faces he thought were locked up tight where they could never reach him or anyone he cared about ever again.  And there were many.

This time, he couldn't suppress his whimper.  There were so many of them.

He heard the pretender laugh, smirking down at the boy who knew too much.  "Now," it hissed, adjusting its tie, "you'll die like proper prey... won't you?"

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Sicktember #16

Prompt: Consulting the Internet/Web MD

Fandom/OCs: Bridget Jones’s Diary (Mark and Bridget)

Words: 940

Sicknario inspo: Sneezing and swearing from this post and “good lord” from this post

Author’s comments/background: Not much to say about this one I think. What you see is what you get. Mark and Bridget will always be loves of mine, and it’s always a treat to write them. 

CW: Mentions of c*ncer, jokingly. Nothing real.

~~~***~~~

"Okay, so it says here that hard lumps in the neck, or swollen lymph nodes, are a side effect of many respiratory illnesses and are especially common in strep throat." Bridget looked away from the computer screen to study Mark. "Do you think you have strep throat? You said your throat was sore."

Mark Darcy, a sick, miserable lump under the blankets, peered at her with a frown. "It is sore, but only from the postnasal drip I think. And strep throat doesn't come with so much sneezing, that much I know. Keep looking, please."

As if in answer to himself, he took a deep inhale before bursting into a thick sneezing fit, his dozenth of the day:

"Hiihhg'KNXXT! IHHXXTT-CHOO! HIHHXXCHOO! Hahht-CHUUHF!!..."

"Gesundheit. Well the only other cause listed here is lymphoma or metastatic cancer, dear, and I'm not about to start consulting the internet about THEM. I really think it's just because you're ill. I think they're pretty normal."

"You see they're not normal for me, though. I've never had them before– GEHHT-CHOO!!... Good Lord…" he gasped, breathy and irritated

He once again swiped at the mess on his face from the increasingly wet sneezes, though it rather seemed to be a losing battle. Bridget blessed him again and made a sympathetic sound. Rising from the computer chair, she went to perch on the edge of the bed, stroking Mark's tangled curls away from his forehead. 

"You'd best keep your distance, darling," he mumbled thickly, gently pushing her hand away. "You're in the hazard zone, and I seem to have no control over my nose presently."

"Well if you haven't noticed, it's my bedspread you're presently sneezing into, so it seems I don't have much choice about being exposed to whatever you've managed to catch. At this point I'll take my chances." Her gentle fingers returned to his forehead and cheeks, then slowly made their way down his neck to the sore lumps that he was so concerned about, right under his jaw. They were soft and moved easily, both signs that, according to the internet, pointed to them being caused by his illness. 

She had only just touched the lumps when Mark twitched, gasped, and sneezed directly onto her:

"KehpttEHTCHHOO! EHHGXXTCHOO!!... Oh God I'm so sorry. It's all over you, isn't it?"

Bridget calmly wiped off her arms, which were indeed covered in spray, squirting a liberal amount of antibacterial hand rub from the bottle she had placed nearby and rubbing it all over her exposed skin. As she worked, she spoke:

"Don't fuss, dear, it's alright. As you said, I was in the hazard zone. There, no harm done."

Mark collapsed back against the pillows with a sound somewhere between 'ugh' and 'ick'. "I feel bloody disgusting," he mumbled. 

"You sound it, too," Bridget agreed. "Poor thing. I wish there was something I could do for you."

"Well there isn't. I simply have to wallow in misery until this passes. And hope I'm not dying of cancer in the process."

Bridget now seated herself on the bed, scooting up against him and placing his head in her lap. "None of that, now. You don't need to be crabby or frightened. You're going to be just fine. I'll make sure of it."

"And just how do you plan to do that?" Mark asked tiredly. 

"Oh coddling you and fussing over you. Manipulating you into submission with sweetness. The classic girlfriend maneuvers."

At last Mark cracked a smile. "I'm eager to see such maneuvers. I'm not sure as I've ever seen them before."

"Well of course you wouldn't remember even if you had. These things are very subtle, you know. The man isn't meant to know he's being manipulated, silly."

She wasn't sure he heard much of what she said, as he suddenly pulled away from her, shifting off her lap to sneeze repeatedly into his arm:

"Gihhh-HESHH'eeeww! Hihh'IHHSH'eeew!! Hhxx'AHKKT-choo! Hggh'nxxgt- CHOOOF!! –Guh! That was… f*cking heh– hehh! HehYEISHHoo! ESSHHuue!!" 

If the first volley of sneezes had frustrated him, and they must have to draw a rare curse word out of him, then having to interrupt said cursing with another sneeze maddened him. 

"You should leave, Bridget," Mark growled as he tended to his nose. "I don't want you or anyone else around until this has cleared up. I'm a danger to everyone in my current state."

"But if I leave, who will be here to look things up on the internet and convince you you're not dying of cancer?" 

Another weak smile from Mark. "Well… no one, I suppose."

"There you are, see? Then it's settled. I simply must stay." She shifted close to him again, brushing the messy hair away from his forehead once more. 

Mark sighed at her touch and sank deeper into the pillows, closing his eyes. She sensed him trying to relax, though any change was imperceptible. Even still, his next words surprised her:

"You're horribly stubborn, you know… but I'm glad you're here. Things are much more bearable when you're with me."

Bridget flushed with pleasure. “Thank you. For saying so. I'm always glad to be with you, even and perhaps especially when you're all needy and pathetic. Though I don't think the same can be said for the bedspread."

Mark sheepishly dropped the corner of the blanket he'd been using to scrub at his nose. 

Bridget laughed. "Never mind, don't worry about it. It's alright." She grasped his hand, kissing the back of it. "And we'll have you well in no time, never fear."

Mark sighed and closed his eyes again. "Thank you, darling. I very much hope you're right."

[necros-writing-stuff]

Such Sweet Ignorance: Collabo'ween Day 16

GN!Reader/Blaine Wiley (Male Sugar Daddy Energy Vampire OC).

Warnings: There's a sense of dread through this one; Financial control; Heavy anxiety for reader; Emotional manipulation; Fear of dying; Reader is suffering from something similar to chronic fatigue.

Word Count: 2739.

Notes: This one is far more horror than smut with a creepy element to it. There's like three lines of smut lol. It's in first person and made to be like a journal entry.

With the power of hindsight, it was blatantly obvious how many red flags this man has. But I was broke and desperate, so I went along with what he wanted anyway. 

Hello to anyone who might be reading this, by the way. I'd appreciate it if you're some scholar from a couple hundred years into the future, peeking into the past via the journal of some random person. If you're someone closer to me then this will be quite awkward and I'm gonna have to ask you to stop here. I don't think I can look people in the eye after admitting the things I'll admit here. Though after everything I've learned, someone I know now could be reading this hundreds of years in the future.  

But I have to get it all off of my chest. I have to do it this way because if I pay for a therapist then he'll find out and make me stop seeing them even if the meetings are only over video calls. This is the first time I’ve been away from him for more than a couple of hours in many months. 

It started last year, sometime around mid July. I was at the local library, using their free wifi when he'd sat down across from me. He'd only smiled at me then before reading his own book while I typed something up on my laptop. 

We had a few more meetings like that, and I'd grown used to him being there. I'd seek him out when I'd enter the building and feel giddy when we'd make eye-contact. He was so handsome, dressed modestly but you could tell he had money just based on the make and materials of his clothes. Auburn hair. Blue eyes. Well built but not so cut that you'd think him vain. And he was looking at me.

He broke the silence first, asking me what I was writing. I wanted to lie, badly, because it was a romance novel that I was thinking of self-publishing just to make some cash on the side. Plenty of people will buy terrible romance novels and defend them with their lives if they have tropes they love and hot enough male protagonists. 

For a reason I still can't explain, I told him the truth. A pattern that would continue, as you'll see. 

I was waiting for his nose to scrunch up in disgust, my shoulders tensed so bad that I could feel the knots forming in the muscles already. Instead he smiled and asked if he could read some. 

Yet again, I let him move around the table and sit beside me. I let him read what I wrote. And holy fuck was it a surprise when he started giving input on how to make it better than it was. 

"My mother was a publisher, I used to do my homework at the kitchen table when she'd review all the things she'd get." Then there it was, the nose scrunch. "I… I kinda ended up loving some of those novels because of it." 

Handsome, well-off, a lover of romance novels, a seemingly good relationship with his mother. People say hook-line-and-sinker a lot. This was an anchor tied to my ankle as he kicked me off the boat into Mariana's Trench. The books he'd been reading across from me were all horror, but the ones he'd kept in his bag to read at home? Soft, smutty romance. 

I never asked why he always ended up at the library at the exact same time as myself. Knowing him as I do, I'm sure he'd have come up with an excuse that I couldn't refute, one I'd accept without blinking an eye. But I'm still disappointed that I never asked once. 

Blaine Wiley is his name. An art appraiser - older than me but so kind, supportive and patient that it didn't matter in the slightest. 

We became fast friends, especially with how open I felt I could be with him and how open I thought he was being with me. Everything I told him, he came back with something personal of his own. Never in that "I'm one-upping you," way, but in a "I see you, I know what it feels like too," way. 

I had family problems? So did he! His sister was always at his throat. It's why he valued my friendship so much, he'd said. The notion of found family was one he identified with heavily after his mother had passed.

Naturally, we ended up dating. That restaurant was so expensive. I wanted to hide behind Blaine the entire time we were there. Expensive suits and bespoke dresses were everywhere while I was in an outfit I'd thrown together from a charity shop. Yeah, the outfit was expensive at one point. But not anymore. I was a drowned rat amongst groomed cats.

Somehow Blaine had made me forget about all of those worries. We'd hardly been able to stop talking long enough to eat (and the food was delicious). Even surrounded by absolute opulence, he remained all that my attention could focus on. 

I couldn't not follow him home after such a lovely date. I couldn't not let him lay me down on his bed, strip my clothes from me and go down on me like that meal we'd shared was but an appetiser. He was so thorough and selfless. 

My nerves returned once we'd finished - waiting and waiting for the other shoe to drop, to be kicked out of his bed now he'd gotten what he'd wanted. Instead, I was trapped in one of my very own novels. Blaine asked me to stay the night, his arms holding me close as we slept. He made me breakfast. He drove me home and kissed me goodbye with a promise to see me again. 

More dates followed, as well as many nighttime trists (and some in his car in dark car parks). He paid for everything. Insisted on it. He didn't have to worry about his bank account but I did, so why should I pay? In fact, why don't I let him give me money just because? 

Another moment where I should have ran. The writing was right there on the wall and I chose to walk past it like it was nothing but a graffitied cock. I feel so stupid - so full of shame - and I should be shouldn't I? I should feel disappointed in myself. I've been a fucking idiot and now it's far too late. 

Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself and far too emotional. I’ll just keep going.

As you can guess, I took the money. I tried to turn it down, but he was so hell-bent on "taking care of me," that I folded quickly. No one has ever taken care of me. I barely take care of me. It was just so nice to not have to worry about having hot water or food in the kitchen. 

Three months is how long it took him to convince me to move in. The gifts and money got more and more expensive until he proposed it. His logic seemed sound; I was basically there every night, he was paying my rent and for my lifestyle anyway. I could leave any time I'd like if things didn't work out. He just wanted me to be safe and comfortable while I wrote. Once my book was out he was sure I'd have a good stream of revenue - hell, he could set me up with a publisher if I really wanted. 

From a one bedroom flat with a teeny tiny kitchen and no bath, just a standing shower, to his two-floored suite at the top of an apartment complex. His bath is a fucking hot-tub. It bubbles. You can see the entire city from his windows. He has his own personal bar in the kitchen and 4 ovens. 

My lifestyle was completely flipped. Rich clothes, days spent writing with an incredible view, relaxing baths while sipping drinks Blaine mixed for me at the bar, cooking with fresh ingredients from high-end boutiques. 

Blaine mostly worked from home, but when he’d leave he’d return from work and see what I'd done before sharing his own day. Often he'd come home with a necklace, a ring, new shoes or clothes for me. Always, I was on his mind. Always, I was his to pamper and love.

Somehow, even with how unbelievably relaxing my life had become, I'd end each day more exhausted than the last. I'd wake up with headaches that doctors couldn't explain. I'd just keep chugging vitamins and hope that it would stop eventually. 

Things started cracking when I wanted to go to a friend's party. Not even a close friend, just a fellow writer who'd stayed friendly with me over the years. A male writer. Blaine had tried to hide his true reason for keeping me home behind having a date planned. Deep down I knew it was jealousy. Deep down, I knew I should have ended things there or at least insisted that he consider why he felt so insecure about it.

I stayed home. I said my apologies to my friend and sent a gift through the mail. Blaine took me to an art opening the night of the party and introduced me to all of his friends instead.

It was hell. Anxiety had been a companion for most of my life, holding my hand anytime my thoughts would run away or even when I would simply step outside. It came back tenfold at the art exhibition. I felt like a piece of meat (though not due to Blaine's actions, surprisingly). His friends would peer over me with this knowing look before smiling or sipping their drinks. It only made me cling further to him. The one source of familiarity and comfort.

A breakdown followed when we got home. I was so tired and scared - I couldn't explain either - but Blaine simply held me and told me that the reasons why didn't matter right now. We'd work it out together, we'd get better together, but right then I should just let it all out. I could talk when I wanted to, but not feel forced to do so before I was ready. 

Perfect. Everything he did and said was perfect, and I fell asleep wrapped up in his arms again that night. 

I'd describe myself as agoraphobic these days. That previous anxiety I'd harboured had only grown in Blaine's custody. It was purposeful how he kept me inside without him, how he only took me out when it was a big thing with people whose lifestyles I couldn't connect to. Who I felt ashamed to open up around just in case they judged me. Events that made me have further breakdowns when we’d get home or even when I’d sit down in his car at the end of the night.

If his friends detested me, would Blaine leave? My only source of comfort? I couldn't let that happen. 

I don't leave the house anymore. I tried a few times after all of those parties to smile my way through meetings Blaine took me to, but it just drained me further until I collapsed. Literally collapsed. More tests were done on me at the hospital, but still they couldn't find anything wrong. 

Blaine left for a week on a trip to Oslo. Since he's left I've been getting my energy back bit by bit every day. I've needed it after what I found him doing a few nights before he left. 

Usually, I sleep through the night like a rock. The fire alarm going off wouldn't wake my eyes open. Something did wake me up last week. I don't know what or why, but when my eyes fluttered open I thought I was trapped in a nightmare. 

Blaine's hand was pressed against my chest, right over my heart. And it was glowing. I think there were runes shining on the back of his hand, the red light bathing our bedroom in what looked like a sea of blood. Seconds ticked by and I felt my lids lowering again as he peppered kisses on my neck. I was just so, so tired. Blaine made me so, so tired. Yet, I could barely breathe.

And alright, anyone reading might be thinking that it really was a dream. I did, at first, like I said. So I left my phone recording when I went to sleep the next night, the screen laying down so Blaine wouldn't know. He might check it when I sleep (he knows the password, he could do it anytime - he knows all of my passwords for everything). So I thought up a lie to explain it away. The screen was malfunctioning and clicking on things without any input. Maybe he could get me a new one or get it repaired. Spending money on me always makes him happy. 

A phone only has so much storage, it'll only record for so long even when the settings are put on low. It recorded long enough for me to see that red light bathing the room again when I checked. Right at the end, the last few minutes. Whispers were also recorded. Blaine's whispers, soothing me, thanking me for being such a font of creativity and life. 

Have you ever heard of energy vampires? They're much less known in the western world than the classic blood-sucking vampires. But there's legends of beings that take your life from you to feed their own all around the world. I think Blaine is that. I think he trapped me to feed from me and I don't know how to get away. 

Plenty of times the thought to look through his office has crossed my mind. Plenty of times I've wondered why I've never met his sister or seen photos of his mother, why I don't know how old he actually is even though I know his birthday. And in retrospect, I realise that many of his friends I met at the art exhibition had nervous looking partners of their own. They had their own little me's. 

I never questioned him. I never thought I had a reason to. Without him though, it's like that leash around my neck has been loosened and I can think more for myself again. Not fully. I still can't step outside without having a panic attack. I can barely call for a takeaway. Apps are my best friend right now. Who knows how many creatures like Blaine are out there, waiting to prey on the innocent?

At least I had the initiative to look through his desk finally. It's such a classic thing, a false bottom full of letters. It feels fake even though I found it. Even though I read each letter and carefully put them back. Even though they confirmed everything I thought. 

They were all exchanges with people like him. Creatures who hunt for people full of drive to do something - like my writing, someone's dancing, singing, painting. Hell, one had a taste for mechanics who worked on custom cars. And how they'd drain them dry of everything. Many of their victims died. Some of them went through victims like a smoker with cigarettes. 

Blaine was one of them. He'd only keep them for a month or two before they'd pass away in hospitals from mysterious diseases that couldn't be identified. Moreover, he's been doing it for over two hundred years. Blaine wasn’t even his original name, he’d gone by dozens of names over the years. The last letter was from 1942. I guess he switched to using telephones, then the internet when it got popular. Who knows how many other victims have been held in his claws before he found me.

I don't know why I'm different. I don't know why he's let me live so long. I just know that I have to get away before he can truly take everything. 

And I'm trying. Believe me, I'm trying so hard. He'll be back tomorrow. I just need to get up and leave, to take all of my clothes and jewellery and pawn them off so I can get away. I don’t even care about finishing my book at this point - even though it’s so close to done.

I'm going to do it. I promise I’ll get away. I'll write again when I'm safe.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

"Open to Interpretation" by kazoosandfannypacks

Chapter 7/16: The First Stroke of the Masterpiece Pairing: CaptainSwan Rating: General Word Count: (1K/24K) Summary: Emma Swan is appalled at works by modern artist Killian Jones- until a handsome stranger convinces her otherwise- and after introducing himself as the artist in question, he invites her out on a date. As their relationship develops, they find that they might not be as different from each other as originally though. Chapter Summary: Emma talks to Killian after his speech. He drives her home after the date. Tags: au, fluff, captain swan, modern au Author's notes: Surprise Update Saturday!!! I didn't want to leave you guys hanging for too long, so I figured I'd post ch7 today, if y'all are alright with that ;) Chapter 8 will be up on Monday, so be sure to stick around! Taglist: @zahara @kmomof4 @jonesfandomfanatic @booksteaandtoomuchtv @jrob64 @tiganasummertree @anmylica @teamhook @undercaffinatednightmare @gingerchangeling @lonelyspectator @caught-in-the-filter @ultraluckycatnd @cs-rylie @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart [if you'd like to be added to or removed from this list, hmu in my dms or askbox!]

Also on Ao3!

 Emma didn't sit down as the others did. This evening, like a lot of things about Killian, had already been full of surprises. Finding out Killian was previously married was certainly one of them, though it didn't change how she thought of him- in fact, seeing how much love and passion flowed out through his speech made him more appealing to her.

 So when he got back to the table, instead of taking her seat like everyone else did, she grabbed Killian's arm and pulled him off to the side.

 "Emma," he said, eyes brimming with passion, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about…."

 "It's alright," Emma said, "you don't need to talk about it unless you're ready."

 He nodded, and Emma could see his shoulders relax a little.

 She wasn't sure what to say to him, how to say what was on her mind, that he'd been through so much, and that she was here for him, and that she wanted to comfort him, that she'd been through hard times as well.

 But she couldn't think of any words to say, especially as his eyes met hers again, rendering her utterly speechless over the sadness he was trying so desperately to hide.

 So, at risk of being informal, she wrapped her arms around him in a loose hug to comfort him. She felt his arms wrap around her as well, and could almost hear his heartbeat slow down, feel his tense muscles relaxing.

 She wanted to whisper something to him as she pulled away, but still didn't know the words to say.

 Instead, she heard him whisper a "thank you" as he loosened his grasp.

 He stepped away from her, their eyes still smiling in reflection of each other as he led her back to her seat, and held her hand again under the table for as much of the evening as he could.

 It didn't feel like long enough at all before Emma found herself standing across from Killian at the door to her apartment building.

 "Looks like tonight's fundraiser was a success," Emma said.

 "Couldn't've done it without you, love," he said.

 "Me?" Emma asked.

 "I'm sure it was your sharp wit in conversation with the Gold party that brought an increase in their donation."

 Enma rolled her eyes and blushed a little. "Are you sure it wasn't your speech that sparked their generosity?"

 "It was hardly a speech, love."

 "Well, whatever it was," Emma smiled, "it was a good one."

 "You really think so?" he asked.

 How someone as successful as Killian could be so lacking in confidence was a mystery to Emma, but she reassured him.

 "I know so," Emma said.

 He smiled, something genuine in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a man in years.

 "So, overall," Killian began, a playful smile on his face and a similar gleam in his eyes, "would you say tonight went terribly? That you had a rotten time, and it was the worst night of your life?"

 "That depends," Emma put her hand on his shoulder, "if I say yes, do we get to do this again next week?"

 "Another dinner like that?" he asked, his hand on her side now, "I think I can do a little better than that?"

 "'Eight times better, like you said earlier?'" Emma asked.

 "Another night out with you?" Killian tucked a hair behind her ear with his other hand, a not-so-subtle but ever-so-smooth excuse to touch her, to stroke her neck and graze her cheek and lift her chin higher so he could see her eyes reflecting the overhead streetlights. "Sounds eighty times better than anything else I could be doing with my evening."

 Emma tried to fight off her flustered smile and the butterflies flitting about her stomach. Feigning whatever dramatic prowess she had at her disposal, she said, "then it was the absolute worst night of my life." 

 "Well then," Killian chuckled a little, "same time next week?"

 "Wouldn't miss it for the world," Emma smiled.

 "Nor would I."

 He pulled her a touch closer, and she stepped closer to him as well, placing her free hand on the back of his neck, bringing him closer to her as he pulled her closer to him. Before she had a chance to convince herself she was moving too fast, their lips met.

 His kiss was like the first brushstroke on a canvas, not nearly lasting long enough, but still leaving a permanent mark.

 Emma smiled as she pulled away.

 "May I walk you up to your apartment?" Killian asked.

 "Sounds like a fine proposition," Emma thought, "but there's no way I'm bringing him up to my tiny disaster of an apartment."

 As well as they complimented each other, Emma knew opposites attract, and Killian, besides his lack of self confidence, seemed so far perfect, and she was far from it. He was a renowned artist, and she worked at a truck stop. He took her to a charity benefit dinner for steak and cheesecake, and she'd had ramen for dinner the past three nights before. His life was, in a word, glamourous, and hers was, in a word, not. Surely, he'd realize that soon enough.

 And if she was wrong, and he wasn't all that and a bag of chips, if he was just a faker leading her on to get with her, then she'd applaud herself for the prudence of guarding her heart today.

 "It's only the third floor," Emma said, "I think I can manage for tonight."

 "Alright," he said, tinted with a hint of disappointment that their evening together was cut off already.

 "I'll call you later," Emma said. She stepped up on tiptoes and planted another quick kiss on his lips. She watched a flustered smile spread across his face as she stepped back.

 "Alright," he said, letting go of her, "Goodnight, Emma."

 "Goodnight, Killian."

 She savored one last look at him, then turned to leave, glancing back at him as she got to the door, watching as he got back in his car and drove away.

[definitelynotgideon]

This is a Genya Shinazugawa x OC (Gideon Azulyss) MLM Fic 🏳️‍🌈

AN/ This took an embarrasingly long time to write because my brain is frieedddd. Work is getting to be so stressful and in the midst of everything I had a breakdown.

NONETHELESS, MY TUMBLR FRIENDS. I return with even more fluffies lol. I swear to god, i have a plan to move away from this stuff and into the meat of the story. Y'all just have to bear with me. xD

Also, this is an abridged, tumblr friendly version of the chapter. The full version will be linked with warnings; it can be found on Ao3. :3

CW: nudity, slight voyeur behavior? sharing a shower.

Click here for the Ao3 Version.

CW for Ao3 Version: Rated Mature! Make-out scene, implied other activities mentioned. Not Explicit.

Word Count: 2,237

The Demons We Face | Chapter 16, Give and Take

Preview:

Gideon looked to the things in his arms. Ah, he wanted to shower too. He looked back up to his shy eyes and then immediately understood that… he wanted to join Gideon. The silver haired boy blushed too.

“D-dont think I'm… just like, here because you're… you know. I didn't mean it like that. I j-just uh-” 

Gideon playfully flicked water at him, smirking. Genya stopped talking and looked slightly surprised.

“Baby. It's okay. You can join me. I'll even help you clean up if you want… but you've gotta help me too. Okay?~” 

Genya still looked nervous, which Gideon found adorable. But he nodded with a shy smile and disrobed. Gideon politely turned around so he could enter in with less pressure. He hummed as he re-wet his hair. 

And then as soon as Genya entered into the shower, he grinned up at him. “This is exciting. I finally get to see what shampoo you use~” 

The two boys ate well. After having talked, both were feeling better and their appetites showed it. When no one was looking, Genya would teasingly poke Gideon in the side with chopsticks and smirk, feeling Gideon's eyes on him and hearing the squeak that made it all worthwhile. 

Gideon was fucking determined to discover Genya's ticklish spots. He needed to level the playing field. But for the time being he retaliated by stealing bites from Genya's plate. 

In one of those times though, Aoi caught him and scolded him. “If you're hungry, ask for more food, don't take from others!”

Genya never got caught in his antics. Professional big brother knew how to get away with teasing. Gideon scrunched his nose and apologized as Aoi gave Genya replacement helpings. 

Genya said something along the lines of “you'd better be sorry,” only smiling fully victorious at Gideon when Aoi turned back around. To lessen the sting of defeat, he gave Gideon an additional dumpling, slipping his hand down to affectionately squeeze his knee. Gideon was dying to return touch, and finished his meal quickly so that he could shower and then join Genya in his room for sleep. 

He snuck a small affectionate scratch to Genya's back as he passed. “‘M gonna shower, see you in a bit.” Then he left the dining hall and went to his quarters for clothes and his shower supplies.

Genya watched him leave, his eyes following him until he was completely beyond the doorway. He glanced at his food and quickly finished it up, cleaning up his area and wandering out. He went back to his room, gathering up a change of outfit. 

Gideon, meanwhile, had gone into the men's shower. He was blissfully alone, and he was reminded of why he chose odd times to shower. It was just a little awkward to shower with other men around… he felt like if he looked the wrong way at one of them that they would immediately notice and call him out even if it was innocent. 

So whenever anyone else had come into the restroom he would decidedly turn to the wall and not socialize. 

But that wouldn't be happening this evening.

Smiling to himself, he stripped his outfit and set it carefully aside. Starting the shower, he ventured beneath the stream. A few moments passed and he began to sing softly as he worked a bar of soap in his hands.

And he sang sweetly, not aware of the very silent entrance of Genya. 

The mohawked boy had stopped short of the restroom area as soon as he heard the soft cadence. He had entered quietly to confirm it was Gideon. He heard his voice, and recognized it but… he needed to see him too. Wanted to commit it to memory. 

Because his voice resonated off of porcelain tiles, steam from the shower veiled him in intrigue. The scent of his fragrant soap tinted the vapor. Genya could have sworn he was an angel… and he stood rather frozen in place, awe holding his body still as he remained unnoticed.

But then… he accidentally dropped his shampoo bottle. Genya's face turned beet red as Gideon instantly stopped singing and turned to face him like a frightened deer.

Genya crouched to retrieve his bottle and became a bit of a mess in trying to explain himself. He shouldn't have even been doing so, he just couldn't resist… in his defense his intentions were very innocent. He was simply admiring his lover. Definitely not trying to be creepy or invade his privacy. 

He stammered out apologies to Gideon, averting his gaze, even bowing and Gideon shook himself out of his surprised state. 

“Genya, it's okay… Did… did you come looking for me?” 

Somehow Genya's blush got deeper on his face. “Y-yeah I… um. I wanted to make sure you were okay… but I was also… w-wondering if I could …”

Gideon looked to the things in his arms. Ah, he wanted to shower too. He looked back up to his shy eyes and then immediately understood that… he wanted to join Gideon. The silver haired boy blushed too.

“D-dont think I'm… just like, here because you're… you know. I didn't mean it like that. I j-just uh-” 

Gideon playfully flicked water at him, smirking. Genya stopped talking and looked slightly surprised.

“Baby. It's okay. You can join me. I'll even help you clean up if you want… but you've gotta help me too. Okay?~” 

Genya still looked nervous, which Gideon found adorable. But he nodded with a shy smile and disrobed. Gideon politely turned around so he could enter in with less pressure. He hummed as he re-wet his hair. 

And then as soon as Genya entered into the shower, he grinned up at him. “This is exciting. I finally get to see what shampoo you use~” 

The comment makes Genya laugh a little. He crouches to gather up his soap and Gideon can't resist the urge to look at his lover’s body.

His eyes softened. He had… so many scars. Some looked quite deep. Gideon’s own body had a few from fights with demons and just the hazards of being a boy. but Genya's… were more present. 

He'd probably been through so much. Too much to talk about. Genya seems to feel his eyes and looks to him as he stands up fully with his soap in hand. Gideon can't help but to just…move in and hold him close. He's wet from the shower so the feeling is weird for Genya but nonetheless, he laughs a little and wraps his arms around Gideon. 

“Someone is clingy~” Genya lightly teased him. Gideon groaned against his chest and playfully pretended to bite him. 

Gideon then squeezed him and lifted him to put him under the shower stream. “I don't think you dislike it.”

Genya giggled a little as he was moved. “You're right. I'm… happy you want to.” 

It was nice to be wanted. Especially after so much time with very few people. Gyomei had found him first, and had helped him as the father figure he never previously had. And even if there was pain in the aftermath, he loved his brother deeply and wanted to reach him. 

But Gideon was unique. Something he'd not experienced prior. Every touch was so gentle and healing… in some ways it terrified Genya because he'd lost almost his entire family and he could just as easily lose Gideon, Gyomei, Sanemi. Despite that though… Gideon was here now. And wanted to be close to him just as much. 

Gideon gently requested is soap bar. “I'll wash your back,” he offered. Genya must have d drifted away in thought for a moment, but his mauve eyes refocused on his partner. 

“Th-thank you.” He handed him the soap and turned around, closing his eyes and waiting. He felt like a child in a way… probably because he'd not experienced this before. 

Gideon lathers the soap in his hands and takes an appreciative smell. While not exactly what Genya smelled like to him, the hint of warm woodsy fragrance that Gideon noticed on Genya likely came from this bar. He gently scrubbed Genya's shoulders, eyes still on his scars as his eyes swirled with questions he wouldn't ask… deft hands cleansed Genya's back, finally resting on his hips as Gideon blushed. He should probably let Genya take care of everything lower… he didn't want to be invasive.

Genya felt him pause at his hips. Blushing because he knew what Gideon was probably thinking, he turned around to face him. “Thank you love… I- I'll get the rest of me.” 

Gideon went back under the spray as Genya finished soaping up. Gideon had finished up with soap earlier. He reached for his shampoo and Genya reached over gently to pause him. “Could… Could I do that for you? Please?” 

Gideons eyes softened again. That was so sweet of him… he couldn't deny him after he asked so carefully. He nods a little with a small smile and Genya rinsed himself off. He then took up Gideon’s shampoo bottle.

“C’mere, turn around.” He instructed softly. Rubbing his hands together after taking some shampoo up, he worked the lather into Gideon's scalp. Fingertips moved with specific pressure. Genya worked diligently through his strands and especially in his scalp to free up dirt or debris.

Gideon hummed contently. He loved having his hair played with, but this was entirely unique. Genya finished, smoothing the strands out of Gideons face and working them back. 

“Alright, rinsing time.” Gods, his voice was so gentle. The tone of his voice hit Gideon in an oddly specific manner. 

This really was love, wasn't it? Having someone be so careful with him and his heart. His everything. Especially when others had either been complacent or cruel… Genya's love began to take root in Gideon's soul, and Gideon would adore all of his flowers and thorns. 

Once he's rinsed the shampoo out completely, he pushes water away from his eyes and switches Genya spots so he can stand under the warm water. He stands on his toes to kiss him softly, cupping his cheeks. “Thank you. I love you. So much… you make my heart feel so full.”

He rests a moment, simply looking into Genya's eyes with sweet adoration and Genya returns the look. Gideon breaks first, looking to Genya's stuff on the shower floor. “Your turn. I'd like to wash your hair too, please.” 

Genya watches him gather the shampoo and gives him a smirk. “Need me to kneel or something for you, shorty?~” 

Gideon growls playfully. “I'm not that short! But… yes. It'd be helpful. Um… maybe not kneeling though. Might not be the most comfy.”

Surely there was a stool or something around… Gideon looked and found one in one of the private showers, meant for higher ranked residents. 

“...There.” he walks over as Genya hisses, as if someone else is even in the bathroom.

“Gideon no that's not something we can use!” 

Gideon returns with it anyway. “Oh please. I don't understand why we can't use tools equally. I get the respect thing but no one is going to notice this being missing for a few moments.” 

It was true. All of the Hashira had their own estates anyway. “Besides. Don't you… technically out rank me? A higher ranked slayer is using the stool. Logic.” He beamed, setting the stool down and patting it. “Sit your fine ass down.” 

Genya chuckles a little but ultimately sits. “I do? I didn't know I outranked you.” 

Gideon lifted his wrist and said “show me my rank,” and the wisteria engraving became visible. “Tsuchinoto. And you're a Hinoto.”

“...You work just as hard as any slayer, why are you lower in rank? Didn't you pass final selection before me? You were in Aoi’s class right?”

“Yeah… the reason for that is, my fighting style didn't lend itself to katana wielding very well. I'd survive battles, but my swordsmith hated me because I kept breaking swords. On the fourth one, he refused to make me another katana. Said I needed to rethink what I'm doing. And… after a little while… I thought of how I was fighting and how it lended itself more towards melee. So… I asked for something heavier and we agreed on the hammer.”

Gideon shrugged as he leaned Genya back to wet his hair. “It set me back quite a bit because I had to learn a new style of fighting. But it was well worth it. It's nearly impossible to break the hammer. Its handle, maybe. But not the steel.”

“Huh. Well that makes sense,” Genya mused. He pictured the frustration Gideon must have gone through trying to come into fighting styles. He could empathize a little. 

Gideon starts to shampoo his hair, rhythmic passes raking through his mohawk and gentle scrubs to his shaved sides. He also paid attention to Genya's scalp, using careful nails to work the soap in and loosen unwanted stuffs.  

He found that he was enjoying himself. He'd never shampooed anyone's hair before, besides his own. Plus… sharing this with Genya was filling his heart even more with each passing moment. He finished, rinsing his hands but draping himself over Genya's back for just a few seconds. Wrapping his arms around him and kissing his bare shoulder. 

“You're ready to go. Let's get you up and rinse you.” 

He made his way in front of Genya just in case he needed help off of the sitting stool. Genya took his hand regardless, letting him pull him up even if he wouldn't have had trouble. Genya ventured under the stream to rinse out his hair, and Gideon returned the stool to the private shower. 

Venturing back to the shower, Genya couldn't help but watch him and appreciate Gideon’s form. Gideon would be lying if he insisted he wasn't stealing glances of Genya's naked body too. Gideon caught him looking; he made it a little bit obvious because Genya met his eyes and turned red as he looked away..

He hummed as he came back to wrap his arms around Genya. “Still so easy to fluster. Adorable~” 

They finished up with the shower, turning the water off and drying with towels provided. Teasing each other the whole time, they made their way back to Genya’s room to retire for the night.

[burgundykicks]

1. "I love you ,its ruining my life" WAS NOT EXPECTION THAT IN FORNIGHT ,A TRACK 1?

I absolutely love the beat tho and I'm so exited for the music vid

2. HOLY SHIT THIS GD TITLE TRACK IS GIVING RED TO ME?

LIKE CAN YOU HEAR THE RED? I MF LOVE IT

"This ain't the Chelsea Hotel ,we're modern idiots"

"You left your typewriter at my apartment ,straight from the Tortured Poets department"

NOT WHAT I WAS EXPECTING DAMN

3. "I clean up sandcastles he destroys"

NOOOOOOO

"Left all these broken parts ,and told me I'm better off"

STOP IT PLEASE

4. "For a minute I knew cosmic love ,now I'm down back crying at the gym"

TELL ME THATS NOT WOLFSTAR/JEGULUS CODED?!?!?

Actually this whole song is giving wolfstar

"Everything comes out ,teenage petulance"

SIRIUS AND THE PRANK

5. TRACK FIVE OH GOD

"How much sad did you ,think I had ,did I have in me?"

STOPPP HELPNO ILL CRY

(INTERRUPTION TO SAY SHES JUST ANNOUNCED 15 EXTRA SONGS HOLY FUCK?!?!?!? SHES A MACHINE BRO)

6. "I only know these people raise you ,to cage you"

THIS SONG OMDS IT HITS SO HARD

"I'm having his baby ,no I'm not ,but you should see your faces"

Giggled bc that's rlly funny

7. "Now pretty baby I'm running back home to you ,fresh out the slammer I know who my first call will be to"

AHHHHHHHH

8. FLORENCEEEEEE

"I need to forget so take me to florida ,I got some regrets ill Bury them in florida"

9. "My boredoms bone deep"

"Am I allowed to cry"

"Someone told me ,there's no such thing as bad thoughts. Only your actions talk"

"If its make beleive ,why does it feel like a vow"

MARAUDERS FANDOM THOUGH

10. "You don't get to tell me about sad"

NO OMG THE WAY SHE SCREAMS THE TITLE HURTS SO MUCH

"Is it a wonder I broke let's hear one more joke ,then we could all just laugh until I cry"

"Who's afraid of little old me, well you should be"

"So tell me everything is not about me ,but what if it is? Then say they didn't do it to hurt me ,but what if they did? I wanna snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me. You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me."

Fuck

11. "But your good lord doesn't need to lift a finger ,I can fix him (no really I can)"

"He had a halo of the highest grade ,he just hadn't met me yet"

12. "Black and white ,all those plot twists"

The noble and most ancient house of black.

"I wish I could un recall ,how we almost had it all"

"It was legendary ,it was momentary"

13. TRACK 13!

"Cuz I'm a real tough kid ,I can handle my shit"

"Lights camera bitch smile ,even when you wanna die"

"I'm so depressed I act like it's my birthday everyday"

"I cry alot but I am so productive, it's an art"

"Cuz I'm miserable ,and no one even knows"

14. "Was any of it true ,gazing at me starry eyed"

"And I don't even want you back I just want to know ,if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal"

"And I would have died for your sins ,but instead I just died inside"

15. "Honestly ,who are we to fight the alchemy"

"This happens once every few lifetimes"

16. Last track before bonuses/the doubke album omgggg

"All your life did you know, you'd be picked like a rose"

"No one in my small town thought I'd see the lights of manhattan"

"You look like ,stevie nicks in 75 ,the hair and lips ,crowd goes wild at her fingertips ,a half moon shine ,a full eclipse"

MARAUDERSMARAUDERSMARAUDERSMARAUDERS

"Promise to be dazzling"

"You look like taylor swift in this life were loving it ,you've got edge she never did ,the futures bright ,dazzling"

I'LL POST A RANKING WHEN I DECIDE BUT AHHHHHH

[thatonethimbo]

PLZ PBB TESS X READER ONE SHOT/HCS I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER 🛐(not that i dont love u already ❤️❤️)

How 'bout both? ;)

HCs

(which actually looks like a story on dot points, lol, I'm a 'bit' messy)

Okay, so the both of you lived at Rosecove.

Friends since the very start, when your parents came to Roria.

Tess, of course, got her Pokémon earlier than most trainers, something she did lightly tease you about once you finally got yours.

It wasn't uncommon for the two of you to sneak out when most people were asleep, especially when Tess' grandpa snored in his rocking chair.

Usually, it was to train her Pokémon, letting you watch as she did. Other times, you and she just hung out together to bond, sometimes sharing frustrations in rants about things that have happened.

Though these nights slowly dwindled in occurrence once people started figuring out what you two were doing at night, some even reporting spotting the two of you out of bed.

Consequentially, this in turn made it harder for the two of you to do your nightly ''adventures'' as Tess liked to call it, finding even a little bit of freedom in the crisp cold air of the night.

Though Tess... despite her recklessness, there were times when she did follow her grandfather's words, though no one ever says it's easy for her to do when she's in a specific mindset, leading to nights where you mistakenly sneak out, finding yourself alone in the night without Tess.

It started to feel like the two of you were slowly drifting apart, a concern that you raised to your parents, who then talked to Tess' grampa.

Things got a little less bad when they let you take once-a-week nightly sessions, however, they had to limit the time you had so you'd have a decent amount of sleep.

A few years passed and then the two of you were at the appropriate age of becoming a trainer.

(I much prefer them not being 10, instead 16 and up sort of since wynaut)

On the morning of her birthday, Tess became frustrated with her grandpa not allowing the two of you to go out to see the rest of Roria, then poured all of that frustration out with some training on some very unfortunate Krabby.

However, later...

----

The Blue Orb

Above all else, protecting this powerful artifact was left to the surviving lighthouse keeper of Rosecove. This was a rule passed down with the Orb, however, Tess' grandpa had a much different priority on his mind.

His granddaughter. And to some extent, you as well, knowing his granddaughter would not calm down until you were by her side in a hostile situation. However, Tess still wasn't pleased that she couldn't fight back against her grandfather's wishes.

''It isn't fair,'' She fell back onto her bed as it creaked under the sudden weight, strands of indigo hair spilling onto the covers while you sort of did the same, laying beside her. ''other people get to fight- I'm strong enough, aren't I?'' Her gaze flitted over to yours.

''Of course, you are. The time I've spent with you is proof enough of that.'' You attempted to affirm with a small smile. She exhaled, relaxing as she briefly closed her eyes. ''It's just hard for your grandpa to notice that when other things are at play.''

Rain began to pour outside, light from the window flickering with the storm that had come out of nowhere. Tess looked over at you, clearly confused as she lifted an eyebrow.

Both of you were interrupted as an ear-splitting sound of a blast sliced through the silence along with a flash of turquoise light. The two of you jolted upright, though Tess was quicker in doing so, sliding off the bed and rushing towards the door, with you stumbling and then following.

She stopped just as she was about to open the door before a call from outside prompted her to open it and step out, with you following.

''You don't need to talk to me like I'm a child, Grandpa, let alone treat me like one. I could have taken care of those men a long time ago if you would've just let me battle them.'' Tess asserted, her grandpa sighing at her words.

''I'm sorry, sweetie, I'm just afraid for you is all.'' He explained. ''You tend to be a little reckless at times.'' You decided to not comment, seeing as it was their conversation.

"Well, if you would just let us go have our own adventures, I wouldn't be so reckless." Tess refuted, glancing at you as your heart warmed slightly.

''You know what, Tess? You are right.'' Tess' grandpa told her, making the girl blink owlishly at him.

''Wait, really?" She questioned with disbelief clear in her voice.

Her grandpa nodded. ''Yes, I really haven't been very fair making you stay at home.'' He looked away, then met his granddaughter's gaze. ''I just worry for your safety. As young as you are, I wasn't sure if it was right for you to see the world yet.''

While he talked to the two people who had stopped Team Eclipse (for now), you and Tess looked at each other with wide grins on your faces. When the conversation had finished, both of you rushed past the group, laughing gleefully as you did, confusing onlookers as you passed.

Tess grabbed your hands, swinging you around, riding on the high of joy as she twirled you with her. ''We're finally going to see the rest of Roria!'' She squealed, then let you go to spin a few more times before you stopped.

Your friend's happiness was contagious, causing you to wrap your arms around her in a warm hug, Tess eagerly hugging back as the two of you stood there, thinking over her grandfather's words. You didn't want to let go, as a small part of you feared that this happiness would end once you did.

Though you had to close your eyes as a flash almost pierced your eyesight, a Shelgon appeared beside the pair of you. Tess softly huffed, pulling out of the hug while you were already missing her warmth.

She knelt to greet her Shelgon, the Endurance Pokémon staring up at her and then glaring at you as you approached, taking a defensive stance. Tess frowned slightly upon noticing this, recalling the Pokémon back into the Pokéball and placing it back onto her Pokéball belt.

''Now, we have to wait for the others.'' Tess looked over at you, a small smile reappearing on her features, no trace of annoyance present on her face.

The sun climbed higher into the sky as you waited.

---

Bonus HCs

Tess f'ing bites her ice cream when no one else is around.

Which is what she thought she was before you caught her doing it.

Now it's kind of one of the things you two joke about.

You also play with her Pokémon if they happen to get bored in your presence, following your finding out about the fact she bites ice cream, Tess has been wanting to get a bit of payback (and not in a bad way), she had once stumbled upon you laying on some grass asleep with her Pokémon carefully snuggling with you.

Tess liked that. She then snapped a photo for later, stifling a snicker.

At Anthian, when the floating city was falling, Tess grasped onto your hand and held it like it was a lifeline. She hardly spoke about it afterwards unless you approached her about it.

She was saddened when Jake was kidnapped, making it harder for you to talk to her about the topic, so you let it be for a while.

[fanfictiongirlie]

HP: Forbidden - Chapter Nine

Click here for masterlist

Parings: George Weasley x Female OC (Slytherin)

Description:

Rosalie Riddle lives in the shadow of her father, going to Hogwarts made her feel safe and happy and when she meets George Weasley she feels a whole new emotion. Follow her story from the beginning of her Hogwarts Journey.

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: Can fluff be a warning? Little bit of angst. Fred still dies, sorry.

P.s. So this is a rewrite from a fanfiction I originally wrote when I was roughly 16. It was awful, truly awful, but I adored the story so I decided to rewrite it ten years later. Enjoy.

My fourth year at Hogwarts, how was that possible, my time was was going faster than I could handle. And thankfully, last year the drama at the end of the year involving Harry, I wasn't involved in for once. I'm glad I had avoided it, and I was hoping to avoid any further dramas this year. 

I left my common room to find George there waiting for me, we still liked one another, but we hadn't done much about it. Other than go on many more dates. But it was nice, we weren't rushing anything,we were enjoying each others times, and he was becoming my best friend, but something more special than best friend too.

We walked to the Great Hall hand in hand, talking about our classes from the last week. According to Dumbledore tonight was the night we met the two other schools that were joining us for the tournament. That was all we had been told, nothing else. Which was driving George insane. 

A quick hug and we each departed to our own tables, I sat snugly in between Daphne and Draco. He hadn't quite forgiven me, but luckily he missed being friends with me more than he was angry at me. 

Dumbledore started to speak in his loud way that I had grown to hate a little. He spoke about the tournament, and then introduced the first school Beauxbatons. As he finished talking, the Great Hall doors opened, and a whole team of beautiful girls running into the hall dancing and kind of looking silly. I looked over to the Gryffindor table and George was grinning at me. He definitely knew I was trying to catch him out. 

Soon the girls had finished their dances and they gathered on the Ravenclaw table. Next were the Durmstrang Institute. The doors flung open and a large group of men entered the hall. They all looked very muscly, and large. I looked over to George and he was giving me the same look I gave him. 

The boys all sat on our table, in front of my little group. And then the food appeared, and we all stuck in. 

"Viktor" The boy in front of me smiled and reached his hand over the table, I took it and gently shook it. 

"Rosalie"

"A pretty name for a pretty girl" 

I blushed

"Thank you" 

______

This tournament business had the school in a frenzy. I could barely read in the Library in peace anymore. 

"I've never seen it so busy" Cedric chuckled, he had a book in hand, as did I. 

"I know, it's crazy, are you entering?" I asked. Cedric was old enough so I guessed he probably would. 

"Probably yes, I know my dad really wants me too" He answered. 

"Do you even know what you'd have to do? Or are you willing to jump into danger" I asked, only slightly joking. 

"I know more magic than you, I'm sure I'll be fine" He jokes. 

"I hope so" I say smiling. 

"I saw George was angry about the age thing" Cedric added. 

I nodded, thinking about him and Fred yelling loudly in the hall, because they were too young to enter. 

"Yeah, I'm kind of glad about that"

"What have you got against these games?" Cedric asked. 

"I've read a lot about them, they're horrific, violent and I just don't see the point of them" I explained. 

_____

The goblet had been put up, and the older students were flocking to put their names inside. Fred and George had been working on a aging potion, I didn't agree with it so I had mostly avoided them. I think Draco and I were the only ones who didn't care much for this tournament. 

Though I still listened when the twins told me to be in the Great Hall on this particular night. I was sitting with Draco, the hall was busy and the Goblet was illuminating the room. 

"What do you think the Weasleys are up too?" Draco asked me, his voice still sounded acidy when he said Weasley. But he promised not to make harsh comments about the twins.

Suddenly the twins ran in shouting "We've done it!" everyone around us cheered as they ran towards the goblet. They drank their potions and jumped through the age circle, my heart stopped, they didn't get booted out, so they placed their names into the goblet, and for a second I thought it had worked, so did everyone who was cheering. 

But then the goblet spat out the two pieces of parchment and hit the twins so they fell to the ground, when they lifted off the ground, their amazing red hair and turned into grey hair and they had beards to match. I couldn't help but laugh, especially when they started fighting one another.  

Knowing I was right felt good, they stopped fighting but still looked ancient. George walked over to me and Draco and frowned at me. 

"Do you still think I'm cute?" He asked, kneeling in front of me. 

"I know I said I liked older guys, but this might be taking it a bit far" I laughed. 

"So unfair!" He frowned again, he leant forward and rested his head on my knees. 

"We should probably go see Dumbledore, make sure this isn't permanent" He mumbled. 

"I would" I agreed, a giggle still on my lips. 

"I'll see you at dinner" He spoke, he pressed a light kiss on my hands and then walked off with George. 

"Why hasn't he asked you out yet?" Draco asked, the question threw me off, I expected Daphne ask me something like that, not Draco. 

"We're not rushing" I answer.

"You've been doing whatever you're doing for months now, nearly a year!" 

"Yeah, I know, but we're enjoying it, I mean Draco, I'm only a teenager, no need to rush things" I added. He seemed okay with my answer, I suppose there was a big part of me that wanted to be officially girlfriend and boyfriend. But there were so many things that could go wrong and I'm not sure I was ready for that. 

[classicsubliminalbo]

Fleur-de-lis 16: Good Pet

Originally published Jun 24, 2017 This series is being revised

Though retired from the runway, Gisele Bundchen was still a key player in the fashion industry. A series of intelligent investments had made her not just the most financially successful supermodel in history, but a savvy businesswoman to be feared. Consider it this way: Gisele's husband, now indisputably the greatest quarterback in NFL history, was riding on the high of his fifth Super Bowl victory, and she was the real breadwinner. Gisele wasn't just money though, she was power. And anyone could benefit from having her name on their side. That was why, when backed against the wall by Elena Maxwell, Gisele was Michael Ramsey's only play.

Michael was a big player behind the scenes of Fleur-de-lis, effectively Elena's number two, but on the surface he was a ghost. If Michael Ramsey's name was floating around fashion forums online, something had gone seriously wrong. He knew that Gisele wouldn't just meet with him on request, he had to use someone with a higher profile. That was how Miranda was enlisted, pulled away from her duty in Goddess Maxwell's penthouse to reach out to Gisele. Miranda's star had fallen since signing on with Fleur-de-lis. It was baffling to the public why she would stay with the company if she was used in so few photoshoots, but the truth was simple: Miranda was Elena's favorite slave. Of all the models Elena had brainwashed, Miranda was the most fun. Elena looked forward to those inevitable power struggle when Miranda's conditioning would weaken, and her surrender when she accepted the conditioning all over again. Elena never kept Miranda too far from her home, and that meant fewer photoshoots than the other models. Fleur-de-lis had plenty these days anyway.

Miranda and Gisele were two people cut from the same cloth. In her non-brainwashed prime, Miranda had put her money into a series of savvy investments. She had ambitions of following in Gisele's footsteps. Similarity didn't mean they liked each other though, and Gisele found Miranda too cutthroat to deal with. Sure, Gisele didn't get to the top without betraying a few friends, but now that she was there she expected complete loyalty from scrubs like Miranda. It took some work to even get Gisele on the phone, but Miranda's promises of privileged Fleur-de-lis information was too good to ignore, so the meeting was set.

Gisele should have known that the promise was too good to be true, and she couldn't hide the annoyance on her face when she arrived at the restaurant that afternoon to find that Miranda had brought the lawyer along with her.

"I apologize," He said in a way of greeting. "Michael Ramsey, my firm represents Elena Maxwell and I didn't think you'd meet me one on one. He'd chosen a restaurant downtown. Someplace fancy enough that Gisele wouldn't feel too good for, but low key enough that Elena wouldn't know. He requested a booth, preferably in a corner, and the hostess placed them in the darkest corner they had to offer.

Gisele glanced at Miranda sitting silently by Michael's side and she said, "What is this, some kind of shakedown? I'm not buying into Fleur-de-lis if that's what you want."

"I'm not here to offer you stake in Miss Maxwell's company," Michael replied. "In fact, she doesn't even know about this meeting at all." Gisele raised an eyebrow, "A mutiny?" "You could call it that."

Gisele took her seat across from Miranda at the booth. "What's her problem?" she asked. Michael smiled, "Why don't you tell her there, Miranda." "I am a mindless slave," Miranda droned. "I must obey my orders." "Cute trick," Gisele said.

Michael went on to explain everything that had transpired since Elena's hostile takeover of Victoria's Secret. The models she owned, the people she'd brainwashed to keep things quiet.

"That's it?" Gisele asked. "She develops this technology and she uses it to brainwash models? It doesn't track. Why wouldn't she sell it to the government?"

"Technically, it's the government's research," Michael replied. "In the sixties Elena's husband, George Maxwell, went into business with a young engineer named Dorian Hawthorne. College friends. Dorian was the brains but with an bottomless trust fund, George handled the business. They first struck it big when Hawthorne Industries won a military contract and they began their research into what today is the heart of Fleur-de-lis' business: mind control. The military dumped Hawthorne and Maxwell before the senate started investigating MKUltra in the seventies. They moved into other ponds after that--clothing, fast food, radios."

"How did Elena get her hands on the technology?"

"Hawthorne never stopped his research. He continued it on his own dime, bought an island near Puerto Rico where he was free of government inspection. They split ways but remained close friends and when Elena came along," Michael paused, as if he was ashamed to even say this out loud. "Just think about it."

"Oh, I know all about Elena Maxwell," Gisele flashed a sadistic grin. "Failed model, fishing for rich guys until one finally bites. Gets her own company out of it." "George didn't trust Elena. Would you? Some woman forty years your senior comes along and you give her half your assets?" "He brainwashed her."

Michael was staring down at his untouched food. Then he said, "Yes, in a matter of speaking. They would regularly vacation at the Hawthornes' estate on Valverde where Elena would be educated." Miranda blinked, her thoughtless eyes as hollow as a statue's. "But it's not permanent. And when George died she...woke up. Started blackmailing Dorian. George kept tapes of Elena's sessions on the island and it wasn't the kind of thing that Hawthorne wanted falling into the hands of the government. They couldn't touch him on Valverde but he did have a lot of vulnerable money wrapped up in the United States. So he met her demands, surrendered everything he'd learned in fifty years. And then he died. Boating accident."

Gisele nodded in rapt fascination, and then she remembered that she was a businesswoman. "Okay," she said coolly. "What does any of this have to do with me?"

Michael scoffed and said, "You're the most powerful woman in this business. Elena's reach is unimaginable at this point. If she's not paying people off, she's brainwashing them, and it's not even models anymore. She's got Selena Gomez, Taylor Swift, Katy Perry. Practically everyone who works at Nickelodeon. She's losing control and I've seen this before. Why do you think George kept those tapes of her brainwashing? He loved having dominion over her. If he were younger, he would have taken more women. She has to be stopped now before she's untouchable."

Gisele nodded. "What do you want me to do about it?" "Elena's crazy, but she isn't unreasonable. Buy her out. Fleur-de-lis is the most valuable lingerie company in the market right now, you'll be making money and doing a good thing. Please, Gisele. This has to end."

And that was how the plan was set in motion. It was nothing dramatic, no plan to beat Elena at her own game. Gisele had the money to offer, and Michael hoped that it would be enough to convince Elena to step aside. After they agreed on the amount, Michael told Gisele that he had to get Miranda back to the penthouse before Elena grew suspicious, and the went their separate ways. A few days later, Gisele's lawyers reached out to Michael to make the deal, and Elena responded with interest. She requested a meeting to discuss terms, which Gisele agreed to if she could choose the location. They met in an office at the law firm, and negotiations went quickly.

"I've been running Fleur-de-lis for a decade," Elena said. "And these last couple of years of success have been more stressful than all those years we spent in the red. Frankly, I'm ready to retire."

"I understand," Gisele replied. "Most models will say that they miss the runway but it was always so much work." "Of course," Elena smiled. "Now you're free to eat," her eyes gazing up and down the woman's body. Gisele shivered. "So we have a deal?" "Absolutely. I told Michael that I couldn't retired if I wasn't leaving Fleur-de-lis in capable hands, it's too important. But I don't know if there's anyone I trust more than the Bundchen brand. Its stock can only go up." "Well," Gisele smiled back. "Maybe you can invest some of your retirement in the company."

They shook hands outside of the firm, Gisele got into the backseat of her Benz, and the doors locked. "Enrique?" Gisele said to her driver. "Enrique?" Slowly the partition rolled down and Gisele was blinded by a piercing bright light. Everything slipped away, and her thoughts dissolved into nothingness.

Gisele awoke in her underwear, lying in bed and staring at herself in a mirror. She wasn't the first model to wake up in Fleur-de-lis' orientation room. Above her she saw a speaker, and Elena Maxwell's voice boomed: "You thought I'd just give my company away? You're a hard woman to get a hold of, but I just had to have a Gisele to complete my collection."

"Michael..." The name fell out of Gisele's mouth as she tried her best to form full thoughts.

"I thought Michael was going soft," Elena said. "But he played you pretty well. I wouldn't let a slave like Miranda out of my sight. But I knew if Michael showed up to that meeting alone that you'd never believe the story. You needed hard evidence. One of the models."

Gisele just laid there, her back propped against the headboard, struggling just to flex her muscles. She could only stare into that mirror, stare deep into her own foggy eyes. She tried to plead, but only tiny whines escaped her mouth.

"You like the room?" Elena taunted. "This building was a police station before my husband bought it. Never really thought I'd get a lot of use out of this old interrogation room. Pretty neat, right?"

"Neat..." Gisele parroted the words back to Elena. She'd been in a trance for so long, her mind completely vulnerable to Elena's words. She was already gone.

That evening Elena brought her newest thrall back to the penthouse. "What should I do with you?" She asked Gisele. The supermodel stood stiff in the doorway as she said, "Whatever you wish, Goddess." Elena clapped her hands in excitement and cried, "Oooh! I can't believe it! Gisele Bundchen, my slave!" "I cannot believe it either, Goddess."

Elena admired her conquest, running a hand through her long, dirty blonde hair. "What do you want me to do?" she asked. "Command me, own me. Obedience is my purpose. I live only to serve you and Fleur-de-lis."

Elena bit her lip. "Let's go. You're wearing far too many clothes." She dragged her slave to the bedroom, calling for Miranda to join them as she dropped Gisele onto the bed. Straddling Gisele, Elena removed her top and said, "Can you feel it? We haven't even fucked and you're already on the edge. That's what it's like to be a plaything. Every waking moment is a new, undiscovered pleasure."

"Thank you, Goddess," Gisele moaned. "Thank you for freeing my mind!" "Oh!" Elena giggled as Miranda slipped in to bed behind her, unclasping her bra and placing soft kisses on Elena's neck. She'd had so much practice in this bed that she didn't even need to wait for commands anymore. "And you, Miranda?" Elena asked. "Tell me how it feels."

"Intoxicating," Miranda replied. She stared down over Elena's shoulders into the empty eyes of Gisele, once her rival, and a slight smile crossed her face. She groped Elena's body, and then her kisses trailed up the woman's ear before Miranda whispered, "I love being a good pet."

Elena gasped, her eyes widened, and then she was at peace. "Good pet..." she repeated before collapsing limp on top of Gisele.

Miranda stood up, lazily dropping Elena's bra on the floor. Then with a scowl she said, "Your lack of will is incredible."