#I'll admit the second to last option seems a bit too much and I'm afraid I'd take things too far with that option

[expressflamebunny]

Quick question for those of you who read Spy x Family fanfic

[greenygreenland]

Dream A Little Dream Of Me: Norman x Reader

-MANGA SPOILERS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! 

-NOTE: YOU’RE BOTH AGED UP SO DON’T START TELLING ME FBI’S GONNA COME TO MY DOOR 😂😂

-THE TIMELINE IS A BIT MESSED UP SO JUST IGNORE IT COMPLETELY AND DON'T ASK ME LOL

-also, is it just me or do thick eyebrows look really cute??? Norman has pretty thick brows compared everyone else and I think they're cute 

WARNINGS: Kissing lol

Summary: You finally see Norman again.

Life had to be the scariest thing you'd ever faced. It threw the bad, the good, the everything your way until you could barely stand. Until you were left broken and mangled and shattered. Life was scary. It was cruel. Yet somehow, today was different.

You thought it was a dream. After all, how could it be reality when the boy in front of you died a year and some months ago? He had been shipped out, left for dead because it was a part of his stupid escape plan.

So how was it he stood before you? Breathing? Smiling? Living?

The office door closed behind you with a soft click. It bathed the room in silence, as if for a moment, the world decided to give you a second to breathe. A second to take in the wonderous sight before you.

The boy's name stuck in your throat. He had changed, not only in height, but stature and appearance. Norman was older, and he grew up to be more handsome than any runway model could ever be.

"(Y/n)," he gently said. "I'm glad you're well."

That was all it took. One sentence and you tackled him in the tightest hug your trembling arms could muster. "Norman...!" To have his arms around you, to hear the beating of his heart--it was a relief. A miracle sent by the gods. "You’re so stupid!"

No, he was more than stupid. He had to be the dumbest boy alive to think that it was okay to sacrifice himself for the sake of your family. You all were supposed to escape together just like Emma said. No one was supposed to be left behind, yet Norman--bless his heart--acted on his own.

You hugged him as if he would disappear if you let go. "We were all supposed to leave together. But you--I thought you--shipped out--and then--!" You chocked on your words. What more could you say anyway?

You buried your face in the crook of his neck. The muffled sob that ripped through your throat was more than Norman could handle. His knees went weak and you both slowly sunk to the floor in a heap. 

"I'm here." he gently said. "I'm not going anywhere (Y/n)."

Despite the steadiness in Norman's voice, his shoulders hitched, and he sniffled. "I'm here." he repeated. "I-I'm here." It sounded like he were reassuring himself that he wouldn't leave you so soon, as if he were scared too. Not for the way you sobbed and sobbed, but for the ache in his heart that seemed to beat in sync with yours.

Slowly, your sobs turned to quiet sniffles, which then silenced into nothing but tiny hiccups. You basked in Norman's warm embrace. He didn't hold you too tightly, as if he were afraid it would shatter you to pieces. Instead, he pulled you close to his side and leaned on his desk behind.

You rested your head on his chest, taking the time to memorise his scent. Parchment, the woods, and old books. You liked that, it was comforting to know he still smelled the same. On the other hand, his voice wasn’t as smooth or rounded as it once was. It was icy. No one seemed to notice that tiny sharpness that hit the end of each note he spoke. You wondered what could've made his kind heart harden.

Sure, Norman was still the same Norman you remembered, but something about the way he acted seemed off. He was clingy, much more than he ever was. Maybe he just missed you? No, that couldn't be right. Norman acted as if he were running out of time. He held you close and gently, as if these would be the last moments you'd see each other again. As if there wouldn't be a tomorrow.

You slowly pulled away to get a good look at Norman's face. His chin was slightly pointier, his cheeks less chubby and full. His lips twitched upwards into a comforting smile. It didn't quite reach his eyes because he looked so overwhelmingly tired. Your poor boy probably worked day and night to keep the hideout on its feet. It must be hard on him, you thought. Especially since he was revered as a god.

Norman's brows raised. "What's wrong?"

You took his thin hands in your own and gave them a good squeeze. "It's nothing. What about you?"

Ah yes, small talk. The perfect way to avoid any question thrown your way. Norman knew you well, sometimes even more than himself. When you asked simple questions such as these, that meant your mind laid elsewhere in a land he could never reach. Norman took that as a hint to drop the subject.

For now.

He wondered what invisible weight laid on your shoulders. Was it something as heavy as his? Perhaps your weight was worse and it ate away at you. Norman wished he could take that weight away and relieve you of that pain. He'd carry it all if he could, and it didn't matter to him if he'd die trying. This was you he was thinking about. He'd do anything for you.

"I've been okay," Norman vaguely responded. "But I have been busy, so I find it difficult to sleep sometimes.”

Norman liked to be honest, but you knew it was because that helped him figure out what was wrong with you. It was a game of tag. In this case being 'it' meant figuring out each others' worries through a back-and-forth match.

"You haven't been sleeping enough?" Your voice came out rather quiet as you traced invisible circles over the back of his hands. "Is that because you have so much work? Or do you refuse to get help?" Norman sat in a still silence and you sighed.

Of course. 

This was your Norman after all. He always shouldered a burden too big for his shoulders to carry. It was always something so heavy, so terribly hard to balance by himself. If that burden grew any bigger, it would collapse, and that would be his downfall. But you wouldn't let that happen to your Norman. No, no, no. You'd take that burden from him, steal it if you had to, and be his crutch.

"What have you been doing here?" you quickly added. "As 'William Minerva', I mean?"

Norman looked unbearably uncomfortable. That little frown tugging at the edge of his lips was a tell-tale sign. “I’ve been getting a lot done." he carefully said. "In fact, I’ve figured out a way to end this. Once and for all.” 

Norman began by explaining the first phase of his plan. The first phase had long been in motion. It started with the indiscriminate burning of cattle facilities, then the gathering of information, and continued on to pave the way for all the other phases you didn’t care to hear about.

The first few steps weren't too bad, but the final act in Norman's plan made your skin crawl. You half-wished you hadn’t asked him anything to begin with. Maybe it would have spared your appetite. Your grip on his thin hands loosened and loosened until your hands rested on your lap.

Norman wasn't so little anymore. He had grown up just a bit, but not in the way you wished to see. How could he think of something so cold-hearted and cruel? The extermination of all demons in Neverland was an act of genocide. If you re-called correctly, it was also considered a war crime.

Norman was smarter than that. He understood the consequence he'd have to face if that were the path he walked right? He understood that there were still other options right? Maybe you heard him wrong.

No.

You had to have heard him wrong. Norman wasn't ruthless like that. He was a ball of sunshine that made you smile whenever you were together.

"I see..." You tightly smiled. "So that's your plan on freeing everyone?" Norman nodded with a seriousness that took you back to the time he left everything to you and Ray and Emma. 

You weren't mistaken then. Norman truly meant everything he said.

"Yes, that is my plan. It's been taking me a little longer than expected to set it in motion. I've decided to officially start tomorrow."

Tomorrow? 

Your breath hitched. "Don't you think that's a bit hasty? What if...what if something goes wrong?" Norman smiled. It was hollow and wry and everything that he wasn't. "Don't worry. Fortunately, I've always been pretty good at getting what I want." You didn't return the smile, and you didn't want to say why.

Norman was quick to catch on. But of course he would catch on so quickly, this was Norman. Your Norman.

"Do you have a problem with my plan?" he inquired. You shook your head. "No, it's...it's not that." Yes, it was that. Your plan is dangerous even if it is good, you thought. Innocent lives wouldn't be spared, and that would spell an unfair fate for the demons who ate to survive.

You wanted to tell Norman why his plan was wrong, and why he didn't have to be so unforgiving about it. But then what? Why would he listen when you didn't have any better ideas? He seemed to have his mind set anyway, so no half-baked ideas would make a difference. And besides, he was the smartest person you knew. Maybe that was the only way out of the terrible fate all you cattle children faced.

"If you're okay with my plan," Norman said, "then what's bothering you (Y/n)?"

"It's still a lot for me to take in," you admitted with a plastic smile. "I guess I'm just shocked that you're, well, here." Norman smiled, this time with a genuine warmth. "I understand." He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on your lips. "I'll see you at dinner."

Your cheeks burned. How bold of him. "Y-yeah, I'll see you at dinner." Norman let out a cute little chuckle that made your heart beat a little louder than it was supposed to. You hauled yourself off the floor and made your way to the door. Norman followed.

You flashed him a nervous smile, one that mixed in with your muddled worry and anxiousness. You glanced at his bright eyes. For a moment, they seemed to dim like the setting sun. It reminded you of Mama. When no one looked at her, she didn’t smile. She always looked so sad when she sat by herself, and maybe that was because she was. 

"(Y/n)?"

Your fingers brushed against the doorknob. “Hm?”

"I want nothing more than to protect you and our family. I know you don't fully agree with me," his expression darkened. "But this is the way--the only way we can save everyone without spilling a single drop of blood."

For a moment, you forgot who you were speaking to. This wasn't the same boy you begged to run away with before he got shipped out. This wasn't the same boy who gently tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and sweetly complimented you. This boy--did you truly still know him? Was he still the Norman you grew up with and fell head-over-heels for?

You blinked and that dark look washed itself off his face. He strode up to you and placed a hand on your cheek--just like the day he was supposed to be harvested. Norman’s eyes were soft, softer than any blanket, and his lips pursed into a gentle frown. With his thumb, he wiped a stray tear away. 

Why were you crying?

"Norman..." You couldn’t find the right words. There were none that could explain the suffering you endured in silence. You worried, not only for Norman, but your family and all those other people in the world you didn’t know about. Norman’s plan--oh how stupid it was--had it changed him? Had it forced him to guard his heart to keep a still mind? 

You wondered what he endured while you went on your crazy adventures. At least you had your family, and Yuugo, Lucas, and all your friends. But Norman? He didn’t have anyone but himself. He carried the whole world. Alone. Had he been scared? Worried? Angry that no one came for him? Your heart clenched at the thought. 

"Smile,” Norman said. “It’s okay, I promise. I'm here." He gathered you in his arms and you didn’t have the heart to protest. “How?” you whispered. “How were you able to do all this on your own?” Norman helplessly shrugged. “You could say I have connections, either that or I’m just lucky.”

“What will you do after this is all over?”

Norman went still again, as if he couldn’t answer your question. You heaved in a shaky breath. If Norman wasn’t going to give you a straight answer, then you’d squeeze it out of him. “Did anything else happen to you? I’m sure there’s a catch, isn’t there?” 

It was like someone flipped a switch. One moment, you were a mess of tears, sorrow, and anguish. Now, something menacing laid in your voice. It was almost threatening, as if you were indirectly telling Norman to dare avoid the question. “I don’t want you dying trying to be everything at once,” you said. “Here you’re revered as a god, and if I know you, then it’s plain that you set yourself up like that. Don’t tell me you plan to die on us again.”

He stiffened.

“I know you Norman, don’t forget that. And because I love you, I don’t want to see you destroy yourself. I admit, I don’t know why you act like you’re going to leave again, but I’ll do everything in my power to stop you.” You pulled away and took his hands in yours. A small smile of reassurance made its way up your lips, but Norman didn’t return it. 

No, he couldn’t. And despite all he did, he couldn’t lie straight to your face. Not like this.

Dinner cheered you up. The smiles and laughter that your family shared with Norman made you feel just a little bit better. But how long would it last? And how long would those smiles stay present? All the questions swarming in your mind made you feel sick to your stomach. There was too much to think about, and too little time to answer them.

You forced down the last of your food with a sigh and brought the plate to its respectful place. Everyone was too busy chatting and catching up to notice, but that was fine. It was better that way. 

You made your way to a secluded walkway. It was in one of the calmer areas of the hideout that overlooked the lower levels. It was quiet, save for the distant chatter of Hayato and his friends. He let out a bright laugh that echoed through the vacant walkways. What a shame it would be to hear that disappear.

“So this is where you went.” 

“I told you she’d be here.”

You whipped around in alarm. “Ray, Emma!” 

Ray sharply looked you up and down. He raised a brow and you squirmed under his gaze. He gently bumped shoulders with you. “What’s wrong with you?” 

You absentmindedly shrugged. “Nothing.” 

“That’s what someone who’s not okay would say.” Emma noted. She settled by your side on the railing and flashed a bright smile. “You were so quiet at dinner today.” 

You shook your head. Que another absentminded shrug and plastic smile. “I guess I just wanted to make sure everyone was okay.” 

Ray sighed. “Everyone but you?” He leaned against the railing next to you. “Did you and Norman talk at all?”

You froze. ‘Yes’, was what you wanted to say, but no sound came out. The image of Norman’s matured face, the way his his soft lips hit your own, and his stupidly tall build crossed your mind. 

Emma let out a gasp and slapped a hand over her mouth. “Ah!” she cried. “You’re all red!” You covered your hands with your face, ignoring Ray’s curious stare.

“What did you two talk about in his office anyway? Or should I say, do?” The glint in Ray’s eyes had subtext you didn’t want to recite out loud. “Rayyyyy,” you grumbled, “shut up.” He sent you a teasing grin as Emma frowned in confusion. “I don’t get it.” 

“You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“Yeah, it’s grown up stuff.”

You ignored the warmth spreading to your cheeks and elbowed Ray. “Don’t say it like ‘that’! Now you make it sound like something else!” 

He daringly raised a brow. “Like what?” You ran a hand over your scorching face. It was a miracle you weren’t on fire. “No, no, I’m not answering you!” 

You shared a good laugh and a comfortable silence began to settle, blanketing your shoulders in a lightness that you hadn’t felt in a while. 

Emma softly smiled. “I’m glad we found you.” she admitted. “You looked really sad all by yourself out here.” Ray nodded with a small snort. “Yeah, talk about depressing. But seriously though, did something..?”

Of course these two would see through your façade. Of course they’d understand something was wrong. They were your family, and they didn’t deserve your silence. Your smile shattered. “I don’t know if Norman told you about his plan yet, but it’s...it’s bad. Sure, the demons have done some terrible things to us, but that doesn’t mean all of them are guilty. I want to stop him, but I don’t know how.” 

Emma nodded in agreement. “He told us earlier and I don’t like it either.” she firmly said. “Ray and I talked it over and we have a plan, but it’s risky. Like, really risky. It has to do with the Seven Walls and...” 

You held on to every word Emma and Ray spoke. Risky was your middle name. Well, not actually, but it was something that became your friend. You and your family looked death in the face too many times to count. What would be another?

By the end of it, you were sure this new plan would change Norman’s mind, or at least convince him to give up the whole ‘genocide’ thing. It was decided by Ray that tomorrow, you’d all talk to Norman. Things seemed to be looking up. No, they had to be.

------------

The halls were empty and you were alone. How was it you got lost in the first place? You made sure to have every twist and turn memorised, so why did you end up in the wrong corridor twice? Ray would surely tease you for getting lost. What an absolute--

You slammed into someone’s chest. A yelp escaped your throat as the person in question lost his footing. He sucked in a sharp breath and went tumbling straight into you. Your back hit the ground as the boy threw out his arms on either side of your head to brace himself. You didn’t need a name to know who you had tumbled into. Light hair, soft eyes, fancy waistcoat and suit. 

“Norman?”

He hovered over you with wide eyes. His lips were inches from yours and he was just so, so close. 

Thump, thump, thump.

Your heartbeat was so gosh dang loud. Could he hear it? Could he see the way your face burned red? 

“Uhm--I--I--uh--” 

Why wasn’t he moving? Why weren’t you moving? Why was it so hard to look him in the eyes? A nervous smile broke out across Norman’s lips. He pushed himself off of you and offered out a hand. You gingerly took it.

“Sorry.” Norman said, helping you to your feet. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Are you okay?” Your gaze darted from his lips to his dazzling eyes and then to his cheeks dusted in red. Your heart wouldn’t stop slamming against your chest. It kept going, and going until you felt like you were about to burst. 

“Sh-shouldn’t I be asking you that?” you retorted. “I’m not the one who--you know...gets sick all the time.” You weren’t sure why you said it like that, or why that made Norman smile so cutely, but he was smiling. That made your heart flutter. You glanced around the corridor a few times, and somehow, you kept finding focus on his lips. 

What was wrong with you?

Norman caught on fast--like he always did. “Oh I see,” he said with a low chuckle. You swallowed. His voice really did deepen (but you kind of liked it). For a moment, you thought he caught onto your staring, but instead of commenting on it, he intertwined his hand with yours and led you through the winding halls. 

“Don’t tell Ray I got lost.” you muttered. Norman laughed and it was like the sound of happiness itself. “I won’t.” 

The halls all looked the exact same: cream coloured paint, nature-like decorations, and numbered wooden doors. You forgot what number your room was, so that was probably why you got lost. Norman took a sharp left where you recalled should be a right instead. “Wait isn’t it that way?”

“I have something to give you, so we’re going to make a quick detour.” Norman’s cheeks dusted pink and he looked the slightest bit nervous. “What is it you want to show me?” He flashed you a contagious smile. “It’s a surprise.” 

“What kind of surprise?”

“I can’t tell you,” he said with a chuckle, “that’s why it’s called a surprise.”

When you got to his office, you were nervous. Surprises were fun, yes, but in a world where nearly getting eaten by wild demons fell into the category of ‘surprise’, you learned not to like them very much.

Norman closed the door behind you and it softly clicked shut. Okay, you thought. So he was locking the door and making his way over to his desk. Okay, that’s fine. Norman shuffled through a cabinet, that nervous look still on his face. Okay, okay, nothing wrong here. He gently shut the drawer, and as he walked out from behind his desk, you took note of the small little box he fiddled with. 

Okay. Okay. Box. Nervous. Locked door. Did he not want anyone to interrupt whatever he was about to do? 

Norman heaved in a deep breath. A really, really, really deep breath. “(Y/n), I have never met anyone else like you. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and you’re beautiful and kind.” He sunk to one knee and opened the little box. “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!”

---------

You jolted awake with a start. 

“Sorry,” Norman said. He scribbled a few words down in his notebook. “Did I wake you?” 

Ah, that’s right. After you talked with Emma and Ray, you all met up with Norman and hung out for a bit. But when had you gotten to his office? Much less, fallen asleep? You rubbed your eyes with a shake of your head. Judging by the tired look on Norman’s face, it was way past bedtime.

The heavy cloak around your shoulders offered a welcoming warmth. It smelled like books. It smelled like parchment and ink. It smelled like Norman and it was comforting. 

He glanced up from his notebook and curiously met your gaze. “What are you smiling at?” The dream popped up in your mind and your smile grew. “I had a good dream.” 

“What was it about?” he inquired without looking up.

“You.” 

The scratch of the pencil froze and he met your gaze. “You had a dream about me?” Your cheeks flushed. “Yeah, and you proposed.” Norman’s back went rigid and he turned as red as an apple. “I-I pro--proposed to you?” he stammered. You snickered, a smug smile tugging on your lips. “It was really sweet. And if you’re wondering, I said yes. I was going to kiss you, but then I woke up.” You stood up with a sigh. “It was disappointing, but that’s okay.” 

You let out a small laugh and neatly folded Norman’s cloak. You left it on the couch and made your way across the room. “That’s a nice notebook.” you said. “What’re you writing about?”

Norman stilled and closed the book with a smile. “It’s nothing special.” He put the pencil down ever so quietly and stood. “Do you seek my affections?” he inquired. You settled on the wall. “Don’t you have work to do?” Norman looked down at you. His fringe brushed across his eyelashes, and he loosened his tie. Slowly.

Your heart steadily drummed against your chest. “What are you doing?” The false innocence in your voice caused Norman to chuckle lowly. He caressed your cheek with a feather-light touch. “Well, you did say you were disappointed right? Why don’t I make it up to you?” 

He rested an arm on the wall with a sly smirk. Your lips connected and it made your stomach flip-flop. The kiss was slow, it was sweet. You found yourself pulling him closer, running your hands through his hair and yanking him over. "Norman?" He met your gaze with half-lidded eyes. "Yes (N/n)?"

"Where did you learn how to do that?"

He smirked and it was hot. The fact that he kept his arm braced against the wall didn’t help either. "Why?" he lowly inquired. "Do you like it?" Your breath caught in your throat and you found yourself wanting more. 

Knock, knock!

Norman didn't look too happy about that. He ran a hand over your cheek and gently tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, that half-lidded look of his melting into warmth and love. He made his way to the door, tightening his tie and smoothing out his hair with a quick touch.

"Hello--?" Norman fell short mid-sentence. As soon as your gaze locked with the person on the other side, you understood why. Ray stood in the threshold, just as red-faced as you and Norman, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll come back later.” he muttered. 

Oh great. Had he been eavesdropping? You glanced at Norman and he glanced at you, then Ray, and back to you. Ray sucked his teeth and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Don’t have too much fun.” he said, a smirk twitching onto his lips.

You made your way to the threshold with a groan. “Rayyyy!” 

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.” he coolly replied. “Do whatever, I didn’t see anything.”

PART 2 <--- READ PART 2

NOTE: I spent a WHOLE WEEK writing this. Please reblog so I know you guys like it :)

TIP JAR

[stay-outta-my-blood-circle]

For prompts: Corruption with The Djinn, please? GN reader, a bit darker if possible

Kinktober 2021, Day 6 🔞

This went in a direction I didn't entirely intend, but I like how it turned out. (I also rewatched both movies and remembered how much I adore him, oh my god.)

Persuasion hadn't worked. Coercion hadn't worked. Any form of manipulation or deception he'd thrown at you had yielded nothing; you still refused to make your final wish. Luckily, where you were concerned, he had an expanded list of options, and he knew it.

His tongue swirls over you again, and you arch into his mouth despite yourself. He takes the opportunity to close his lips over you and suck; the sensation rips a harsh cry from your throat. He pulls away, lifts his head just enough to look up at you - he's snickering.

"I believe you were saying something about stopping?" He asks, infuriatingly smug.

"That would be the wise thing to do," you pant, but when you neglect to follow up on that thought, he chuckles and buries his face between your thighs again.

You hadn't known, of course, what the jewel was when you'd picked it up - at least not until an accusatory refrain of you woke me echoed through your mind, and all your mother's old stories surged to the forefront of your consciousness.

A djinn. It had seemed too fantastical to be true, at first, but then you started having visions, hearing his voice... and then you met him, and the fire that started burning inside you that day had been growing ever since, refusing to be dampened - not by the death, not by the inhuman cruelty, not even when he'd revealed his true form.

Now, here you are - so close to getting what you've been so afraid to want.

He pulls away again just as you were about to tip over the edge, and you whine.

"Oh, did you want more?" His tone is teasing, but he pauses - awaiting a response. You meet his eyes for a moment before you have to look away, heat rising in your cheeks. You refuse to nod, lest he take it as a wish - but you don't decline, either. After all, you do want more.

He grins, seeing right through you. He's enjoying this - walking backwards into the shadows, one step at a time, crooking a finger in your direction as you stumble after him. Biding his time until you get in so deep that you can't see or feel anything but him. Until you can't get back out again.

He keeps going, drawing you in incrementally, steadily increasing the intensity but never letting you climax. Keeping you desperate and just shy of begging for him.

You moan shamelessly as he finally slides inside you.

"Well, you certainly seem to be having a good time," he purrs, looking far too put-together considering the current situation. "Honestly, I must admit I'm finding your body quite enjoyable, myself."

He sets a slow, even pace, but ramps up quickly; soon, you're practically drooling as he fucks you in earnest, rough and fast - and then, yet again, he stops just before the coil inside you snaps.

"Even so - if you want to come, you're going to have to ask for it."

You bite your lip against a frustrated cry.

The first wish had been made accidentally (damn him and his ability to take things completely out of context) and the second one to save your life. It seems he's planning to coax out the third by edging you.

You slide a hand down your front, planning to use your fingers to get you the rest of the way, but he quickly snatches your wrist before pinning it, along with your other one, above your head.

"No cheating, now," he reprimands gleefully. "Make your last wish and I'll give you what you crave."

You want it so bad. You want him so bad - want to keep him, now that you finally have him. He's enjoying you, he said so himself. Would he keep you, in this new world order of his?

... If you asked?

"I... I wish," you start, and his movements resume, slowly thrusting into you, stoking the fire in your belly. Your eyes lock with his as he watches you, rapt with anticipation for you to continue. It could almost be a look of adoration.

"I wish you were in love with me."

He stops; he appears visibly taken aback at first, but then something else crosses his face, and he leans forward, slowly... and kisses you. It's soft at first, but grows quickly into a passionate intensity, and then his hips are moving faster, and a hand is sliding down to stroke you -

You go off like a gun, trigger finally pulled, and so does he a few moments later. Triumph mixes with pleasure on his face as he captures your mouth again, kissing you fervently.

The scope of what you've done doesn't fully hit you until you've come down - but even then, one thought drowns out all the others, repeating over and over as you hold him against you.

At least you got what you wanted. He's yours now... or maybe you're his. Either way, you'll take it.

Humanity be damned.

[justmeandmysickies]

@angstyaches I'm still not 100% satisfied with how this turned out but I hope it's still enjoyable. As always thanks for your request.

He isn't scared, just a little worried

characters: Nick and Joe warnings: emeto, panic attacks

"Babe, you need to calm down."

"Calm down, my ass! I'm about to get on a plane! Do you know how slim the chances of survival are in the case of a plane crash?“

"In fact, I do. They are at about 95%. So you'll be fine. Whether we crash or not."

Joe was stuck somewhere between anger and having a panic attack. He had gone from claiming to be fine to snappy and annoyed; and a while ago he had announced that he was feeling nauseous so the two of them had relocated to the bathroom. Instead of sitting down however, Joe simply started pacing around the small room.

Nick really wanted to help his boyfriend, but the problem was: nothing he said or did seemed to do the trick.

"Great, smartass. That makes me feel better." Joe stated sarcastically, stopping for a second to glare at his boyfriend.

"It should."

"Well it doesn't!" Joe snapped, his breathing picking up in pace. This was exactly why he never flew. Even the hours before the flight sucked ass and he never knew how to deal with himself in these situations. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

"I think I'm sick." He said, trying but failing to take a deep breath.

Nick was confused at the sudden statement. "Sick? Why do you think that?“

"I feel nauseous and it's hard to breathe. Maybe I caught a bug."

Nicholas couldn't help but chuckle a little bit.

"What the hell is so funny?"

"You being oblivious." Joe raised an eyebrow at that. "You're not sick, babe. You're panicking. It's no secret you're scared of flying so I'm not surprised you're feeling this way."

"I'm not scared, I'm just a little worried that's all." Nick wasn't sure if Joe was trying to convince him or rather himself.

The pacing helped a little bit, it took Joes mind off the thoughts racing through his head. Unfortunately he was getting considerably dizzy. Enough to make him stop walking for a second as he felt the room starting to tilt. He held onto the sink with one hand and pressed the other to his mouth as he started salivating. The nausea increased overwhelmingly and he repositioned himself so that he was leaning over the toilet.

"I'm gonna puke."

Nick sighed. "No, you're not. Will you please just relax? You'll be fine, I promise."

"No, I'm actually gonna puke." He'd just finished his sentence when a harsh gag forced it's way out of his mouth. His knees buckled and he would have hit the floor if it hadn't been for Nick who caught him just in time. He'd grabbed him under his arms and lowered him to the ground gently.

"Relax, let it happen. You might feel better after." Nick was a little taken aback by the fact that his boyfriend was actually going to vomit. He’d thought the brunette was just being a bit dramatic.

Joe however, had no intention to 'let it happen'. He fought down the next gag, forcefully swallowing against the feeling.

He had been sitting on the bathroom floor for almost 20 minutes now, doing nothing but spitting nauseously into the toilet every now and then.

"I can't believe you actually convinced me to go to Australia." Joe moaned, leaning back over the toilet. It was getting harder and harder to fight the nausea.

Nick was really trying to help but he was simply at a loss for what to do. He had never seen his boyfriend freak out like that before and if he was being entirely honest, he was a little overwhelmed with the situation.

They still had almost two hours before they had to leave for the airport, but Joe was a nervous wreck already.

"Seriously, how did I let you talk me into flying? I hate this." Joe groaned, carefully putting a hand on his stomach. His nausea was increasing with every passing minute.

Nick had heard that exact same sentence over and over again during the last few hours and he was getting irritated. It seemed like his boyfriend wasn't even trying to be reasonable. He was still obviously fighting being sick, not even considering the fact that it might make him feel better.

"Fine. If you don't want to go, you don't have to. I'll just visit my parents by myself and I'll see you in a week." Nick said, tone uncharacteristically serious.

Joe was quiet for a moment before he sighed heavily. He knew how much Nick hated visiting his parents, especially alone. He would never admit it but he would choose his own pain over his boyfriend’s any time.

"No, I'm coming." Initially he was going to add 'I'll be fine' but Joe honestly wasn't so sure about that. Even if they could survive a plane crash, they would probably end up paralyzed. Or even worse, what if only one of them made it out alive? How would the other live with that for the rest of their life? And just the thought of the plane going down-

He hadn't even realized his breathing getting out of control until Nick put a hand to his chest.

"Baby, stop. Seriously. You need to take a deep breath, okay? Get that breathing under control." All anger Nick had felt just a few seconds ago immediately made space for worry as Joe started to hyperventilate. Seeing his usually so composed boyfriend in this state was actually giving Nick goosebumps.

Joe tried to take a breath, tried not to think about everything that could happen, but his mind kept wandering to the picture of a crash. The feeling of the plane going down - diving straight to the floor.

As the plane in his thoughts dropped, his stomach followed suit. He gagged harshly at the feeling, making Nick jump a little.

"Babe, can you try to take a breath for me, please?" Nick tried but Joe wasn't having any of it.

"I don't need help breathing Nick, I'm not a child." That statement sounded quite ridiculous coming from someone who was panting harder than he would after running 10 miles.

It didn't matter though if he accepted his situation or not. He couldn’t fight his body any longer - it was taking control and Joe had no say in it.

His panting turned into retching. Dry at first but soon a particularly nasty sounding retch finally brought up a wave of foul-smelling liquid.

Nick cringed as his boyfriend gasped for air before heaving up a second round of vomit.

In between waves of sick, Joe was fighting for every breath. His face was ashen, and Nick was seriously worried the younger was going to pass out right then and there. He put an arm around Joe, so that he wouldn't fall forward and hit his head on the toilet seat, just in case.

This went on for three minutes and by the time Joe had finished being sick, black spots were dancing in his vision.

"What the hell just happened?" Joe breathed out, wiping his mouth with a piece of toilet paper.

"You freaked out and made yourself puke. That can happen when you panic, it's usually no reason to worry too much." Nick answered honestly as he carefully rubbed circles on his boyfriends back.

"So did I just have a- like a panic attack?"

Nick felt a pang of sympathy at the question. Joe wasn't used to feeling like this. Back when he was living on the streets, he had learned to lock away his feelings. All of them. Even his fears. And something as simple as flying leaving him this vulnerable must have felt horrible.

"Yeah, something like that. You worked yourself up babe, it happens. Don't overthink it. How are you feeling now?" Nick asked, noting how Joes breathing seemed to have calmed down significantly.

"Better, I think. I can breathe better. Not as nauseous." Exhaustion was evident in his voice, but Nick was still relieved to see his boyfriend slowly return back to normal.

"I still don't want to get on the plane." Joe mumbled almost non-audibly as he got back to his feet. It wasn’t like him to whine like that, but he couldn’t help it.

Nick sighed. "Josh, when I said you could stay here, I meant it. I'll be fine."

Once again Joe shook his head at the offer. "I'm afraid you might take your mom's head off if I'm not there to supervise you."

"Well, I'm not making any promises and I'll be sure to make you an accomplice so we can go to jail together. I wouldn't want you to miss an adventure like that." Nick said sweetly, giving his boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek.

The latter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure. I guess I'll have to go with you then, to make sure you stay out of trouble."

Nick smiled but he was still worried. "Are you sure? It's a 15-hour flight after all."

"I'm not sure at all but backing out is not an option. It's not like I haven't flown before, I don't know why this time is so bad."

"You're just having a bad day, that's all. We still have about 15 minutes left before we have to leave for the airport. Do you wanna cuddle on the couch like a real domestic couple?" Nick suggested it in his usual silly manner, but he meant it.

Joe scrunched up his face. "Ew."

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. "Yes."

Nick smiled like a dork as he led his boyfriend to the couch. Joe would be fine. He always was.

[lexxiie]

Random question but, do you think Dabi will be redeemed? I feel like shigaraki will since the possibility has been presented many times but dabi seems to have no remorse at all... idk I would love it if he could be redemeed but I can't see it happening

Manga spoilers ahead

Oh boy... I saw a post talking about this a couple of days ago and I strongly agree with everything that person said. (If someone knows which post I'm referring to, please let me know because I couldn't find it.)

I must admit that I have no idea anon. I am a 100% sure Shigaraki will be redeemed, but with Touya, I have a lot of theories on how his story will end.

We saw that when they refer to Shigaraki, Izuku always uses the word "save", but when the Todoroki's talk about Touya, they say "stop." This throwed me off quite a bit when I noticed. Now, I believe Touya is as much of a victim as Tomura, however, there are many things that we see in Tomura, but not in Touya. "But, Lexie, what are you talking about?" Remorse. Hesitation. Care for others.

I'm a huge Touya stan, but I'll always remember the chapter where Twice dies, not because of the fact tha Hawks killed him, (I think he had no choice) but mostly because what truly surprised me about that chapter was Touya's reaction. He looked happy, ecstatic, actually. We know he plans on killing Shouto and also tried to kill Natsuo, which tell us he has no love left for his family (apparently). His desire for vengance is much greater than anything else. What I'm trying to say is that I'm very confused on how Horikoshi wants us to see Touya (What does he want to represent using him?). I'm afraid that, while Shigaraki represents a person who was ruined by hero society, but who's still a good person deep down, Touya may be meant to represent a person who was ruined by hero society permanently. Two parallels. HOWEVER, Touya is also a parallel to Shouto. Touya is what Shouto would've been if he had kept all his hatred in his heart. In this case, I believe in the whole "Shouto will save Touya."

This leads to my last theory, where Shouto does save his brother but in the end, Touya dies anyway, probably heroically to represent his desire of becoming a hero, proving that Dabi is gone, and the child was still there all along. I HOPE he lives. I totally love his character so, so much and I could do an entire essay on that. I would be very disappointed if he dies a villain, I think that would be very unfair. In conclusion, I believe this can go 3 ways. He is redeemed and lives, He is redeemed and dies, He is not redeemed and is killed by Shouto. (or just killed.) If I'm being completely honest, I think it will be the second option, but my wishful thinking is hoping it will be the first one. I don't know. Too many thoughts. What do you guys think?

[bumbershots]

A CERTAIN ROMANCE

CHAPTER FOUR: SILENCE COMES AND GOES

Author’s note: Hello! We continue with this, I would like to thank everyone once again for all the likes and reblogs the story has gotten so far, couldn’t be happier! Enjoy (:

Story masterlist ** Word count: 2.9K **

It is possible that Harry is ignoring the big elephant in the room, as he spreads some jam in his crumpet, well aware of Fernando and Jack exchanging knowing looks. He takes a bite of the savoury treat and hopes none of them dare to confront him, at the same time he wants to be questioned about why he hasn't called Alma yet.

Harry spent the last two weeks grumpy and frustrated.

He's called his therapist way too many times. He has no idea where he went wrong in his healing process. They were back to square one, whispered his tired heart.

Jack is surprised too, his friend got on so well with Alma at the party and apparently even went the extra mile asking for her number then he spent the following fourteen days acting as if she didn’t exist. Didn't even text her like Gemma suggested. He sips his coffee and sighs for the millionth time that day.

The musician is infuriated at himself and desperate that he wants to have Fernando demand an explanation for his behaviour towards his sister. Harry's not a confrontational guy, but he's going mad. Might be losing it. He wanted to scream at the two men before him that he did plan on calling Alma, but then he got so sad. Now he's afraid it's too late.

"Do you want another one?" Fernando holds the plate with crumpets in front of Harry who takes one more and thanks him before grabbing the jam. "Do you reckon you'll be man enough to call my sister within the next couple of days?" Harry chokes on his food while Jack's laughter booms through their home.

Nobody has ever called him out like that. Harry's still unsure whether to be grateful or scared. Maybe a bit of both he thinks after composing himself again from the fit of coughs, he knows Fernando is still waiting for an answer.

"Is she upset about it?" A hint of relief and pride linger on Harry's voice. Jack shakes his head, knowing that he's avoiding the question. Something he's very good at.

"That's not what I asked." Fernando's clipped tone leaves no room for the musician to beat around the bush anymore.

"I was really nervous about calling her, kept putting it off until days turned into weeks... I'm not sure how to go about it," he plays with his rings and looks away from the inquisitive gaze of his companions.

"How did you get Taylor to go out with you?"

"What?" Harry and Jack ask at the same time.

"You must've asked her I guess," Fernando shrugs. "What is so scary about Alma that puts you off? Are you interested in just a shag and you're worried she'll decline or tell the media about it?" Harry is shaking his head vigorously and the dark haired architect leans a bit closer towards him, "you're so full of sh-”

"Alright let's take a break," Jack's soothing tone brings his house mate back from the rage path he was following. But Harry knew that he was right.

It had been a year already, he moved to a new house, one where his ex never set foot into and still her ghost was everywhere. He has this crazy need to destroy everything that can relate to her. Her favourite cardigan is kept away in a box full of Polaroids and books that are all her.

The real reason why he didn't dare to call Alma is because whatever he felt at the beginning of his previous relationship, or any other one, was at least ten times less intense, than what he was feeling now. Seeing the menace before them, his heart and mind decided to leave him courage-less towards the situation. It's less painful to think what could've been than to know it and see it being taken away from you. Again.

But he deserves to be happy, that's what Gemma reminded him the other day.

"I gotta go," Fernando announces before rising from his seat, walking inside the house and upstairs to his room. Jack tries to tidy up the table a bit, not daring to look at his apparently mute friend. When Fernando comes back down he steps outside to the patio where they had brunch, one last glance to a very ashamed Harry and he sighs. "Brigit's Bakery Classic Afternoon Tea Bus. Alma’s been dying to get tickets but never has the time to actually book it," he explains adjusting his jacket's collar. "It's not too late." With that he turns on his heel and leaves the house.

Harry takes their mugs and places them in the sink, he notices Jack is going around the kitchen putting away the butter and milk in the fridge.

"What are you waiting for Romeo?" The blue eyed man asks, stopping in front of a blushing Harry.

They're both quiet for a minute. Harry's heart is racing and can feel his hands get clammy. He hasn't felt someone's faith in a long time, and he's not sure if he's happy or pressured that Fernando and Jack are pushing him to call Alma, he doesn’t even know if she will give him a chance. Harry's wishing to be the kind of guy to take out his mobile and make the call, maybe even crack a witty joke that will have Alma laughing in that loud way he remembers and not be awkward with asking her out on a date. As if he wasn't completely mortified by being rejected.

Harry was sure he would ruin it, not just the call but the date and everything else that was actually going to happen between them without even trying first.

"Hello?" She answers after the third ring, confused at the unknown number calling her.

"Yeah it's me," Harry nods to Jack who urges him to finish whatever sentence he's trying to form, "I believe I owe you some coffee."

"Harry?" Alma tries to fight back a laugh. A wide smile splitting her face after recognising who is the mystery caller.

"Yes! Sorry I forgot you didn't have my number." Jack is red with second hand embarrassment for his friend and decides to start the dishwasher just to keep his eyes from the train wreck happening in his kitchen. "I'm sorry for not calling sooner."

"You're calling now, 's all that matters... I'd love to get that coffee. Next Thursday works for you?" He nods feverishly and remembers he's on the phone.

"Of course, I'll pick you up at five if that's alright."

"Make it half past five please, that's when my shift ends. I'll text you the address." She throws the latter smoothly as an excuse to initiate conversation until they meet again and Harry is oblivious about it.

"Sure great, perfect I'm... really looking forward to seeing you," he plays with the tea towel on the counter, his back turned to Jack, a million butterflies fluttering in his stomach when he hears the coy chuckle his confession got out of her. "Have a good day, see you later."

"See you later, Harry" Alma's goodbye is full of hope and endearment, just like the one he got before she walked away from him that morning after Freddie’s birthday party.

After ending the call, he mentally scolds himself for dreading it so much. It went so much better than expected, even got a laugh out of her. Perhaps Harry needed to stop making decisions based upon his fears and more taking in consideration the other person. He always thought he knew best, it's what he's been told for so many years and although he needs to be making big choices most of the time, perhaps now he could share that responsibility. Felt dead nice for a change.

"That wasn't so bad." He admits to Jack before drying the now clean dishes with a towel.

"I'm proud of you, now tell me, where are you guys going for that coffee?" Jack's eyes are full of curiosity and excitement, it's impossible for Harry not to feel a chill go down his spine at the prospect of planning the date. He thinks about what Fernando suggested, but it would be too obvious that it wasn't his idea entirely.

Alma deserves something exclusively planned by him.

"Don't know yet, perhaps somewhere nice and quiet" he ponders and his friend agrees.

Last time Harry had a proper first date was about two years ago or so. He cooked aubergine parmigiana following Jamie Oliver's recipe and baked some biscuits for dessert that he enjoyed with his companion overlooking the Pacific Ocean from his home's balcony. Back then it seemed to be the right choice to keep it low-key, a simple dinner at his, no risk at all to be bothered or watched. But Harry knew that at some point it got old, being overly discreet was easily mistaken for being ashamed of the relationship. That kind of thing can do a lot to someone's confidence, little by little until it's all too much to bear.

If he could only learn not to care about the world's prying eyes.

Harry doesn't want to drag anyone into the scrutiny of the media until he knows it's an incorruptible bond. The inevitable thought of forever, something he believes might not exist for him, at times. He did think Taylor was it, even Kendall for a while, which is why he dated more publicly back then, until she came along and the love Harry felt was so grand it made him overly protective of them. Countless times he tried to explain that this was the first time something was working in spite of all the circumstances that came with his life and he was trying to cherish it, keep it to himself. Nurture it until it was as tough as old boots.

That night was spent writing down ideas for that first date. Number one was The river café, near Putney Bridge, a place free of paparazzi. Number two, Rail house café, lovely spot to share dinner. Number three The sanctuary café, located in a beautiful building with a quirky environment. Number four and his personal favourite Lola's bakery, their service was so warm and intimate, he remembers the cinnamon Chelsea bun and his mouth waters instantly. So, drawing a big circle around the fourth option he smiles before going to bed that night.

Saturday morning finds Harry at his grandparents’ old home, carrying a bag full of ingredients for a vegetarian lasagna he is planning to cook for his grandfather and his mum. He immediately banishes Anne from helping in the kitchen. She observed him follow the recipe, cooking for no longer than ten minutes the garlic, thyme and aubergine, and then crumble over the chilli carefully. He lets her grate the Parmesan when the sauce isn’t thickening and reducing like it was supposed to. With a bump of her hip, she nodded towards a couple of tomatoes, Harry smiled before tipping them in, breaking them with a spoon and five minutes later, the sauce was ready.

His mother is a marvellous woman, like the good son he is, Harry doesn't want to make her sad, ever. The last time he visited her, recently broken hearted, they spent it baking, cooking, eating sweets and drinking hot chocolate at the rear terrace. Once he had enough of moping around, he decided to make it up to her and create good memories from that visit. They explored the local parklands as if it was the first time, shared ice cream, got tipsy on cheap red wine and chatted from dusk till dawn.

A few hours later, after eating the delicious meal and tidying up the kitchen afterwards, Harry watches his mum talking to his grandad, holding his shaky hand in hers and caressing it in a soothing way. The elder man’s Parkinson is getting worse with time, he feels so useless, specially because it affects his favourite people. He wants to know what his mother is thinking when she joins him back in the kitchen. There is some anguish dancing in her kind eyes, but Harry knows better than to push her to share something she is not ready to.

"I have a date next Thursday," he chokes out, in hopes of distracting her, and it works. Anne's head whips towards her youngest child, evidently shocked and yet proud. It's been years since Harry shared that kind of information with her.

"A proper date?"

"Yes," he wants to add how nervous it makes him. "I dunno how serious it'll get... just met her once, properly I mean, we saw each other on the tube's carriage three times prior to it. Coincidentally of course, Gem said it is something straight out of a film."

"Who is she?" His mother is giving him that look, the one that says how giddy she is to know absolutely everything about the person that got her son so skittish, that he started to rearrange the containing of the cupboards entirely.

"Her name is Alma," he doesn't know where to start, if he spills all the ways in which he thinks she is wonderful, they'll end up pulling an all-nighter.

"And she's a...?"

"Cashier during the week, Spanish teacher on the weekends and occasional interviewer for her Youtube channel." Anne raises her eyebrows, impressed and wondering why such a busy girl agreed to go on a date. Must like him a lot of course, she thinks watching her son pour hot water on a mug, and dunking a tea bag in it afterwards.

"Where did you meet her if not on the tube?'' She is curious and weary. This wouldn't be the first time her youngest spawn overlooked certain things from strangers. Very little things in Harry's life were coincidences nowadays.

"Remember Jack Robinson?" his mum nodded, how could she forget the cheeky chap that helped Harry escape almost every night from his dad's house in the summer, just to go skate in Southbank's center until midnight. Anne admitted to not liking the bloke for a while, but gave him another chance after watching him grow into a responsible adult. "He's in charge of my home renovation, extension whatever it is called. Invited me to Freddie's birthday party and she was there." The dreamy look on his eyes when reminiscing the moment brought out a wide smile on his mum's face followed by her loud laughter.

"Oh Harry, you've got that look." it was the truth. He looked completely gobsmacked by his mother's reaction, but he couldn’t deny the peace he felt when knowing that she was already fond of the girl that he couldn’t get out of his mind.

"It’s too soon to tell!” He doesn’t want to dive into it, not yet. 

"How did you really meet? I want all the details." Anne asked, taking a seat at the coffee table and Harry told her everything.

From the first glance he stole her way to the last phone call he had yesterday at Jack and Fernando's house, his hands flew several times to tussle his hair and the dimple on his left cheek was exquisite, when telling his mother, how she asked him to dance with her. He spared no detail, from her intoxicating Moschino perfume to her raspy accented voice. By the time he finished, his mum's mug was empty but her heart was full. For so long she wondered if she would ever witness the beauty of Harry in love again and enjoy first-hand the way he spoke about that person in the sweetest manner, the high-pitched tone of his voice when finally admitting how nervous he actually was about this first date.

"Right, well in that case, stop thinking about how everything is going to go wrong." Easier said than done, Harry thinks but nods. "I'm sure whatever you planned will sweep her off her feet." Anne knew how much of a romantic her boy was, he went all out in that department. His best quality and Achilles heel.

"If the cupcakes from that place don't... I could literally do it." Harry plucks a banana from the fruit bowl before them and narrows his eyes when his mum rolls her eyes at him playfully.

His mother's reassurance made him feel less hopeless, the next day when they went to Sheffield's city center, she even picked out a couple of new mugs. 'Just in case we have new visitors at home.' Harry groaned but failed to hide the dreamy look in his eyes, he even crossed his fingers behind his back as he watched her pay for the cups. The thought of Alma meeting his mother in the near future —and the rest of his loved ones— excited him to an unfamiliar degree, like the first time he saw the seaside with his own eyes at a very young age, like that time he sang in front of a considerable amount of people, like a warm hug of his late grandmother. The idea that she may like him enough to agree to a second date is stuck on his brain, despite that they haven't even survived the first one.

Anne saw him enjoy himself the rest of that afternoon and the next morning before he had to go back to London. She sighed and watched him drive away, standing in her front door for a few more minutes, rejoicing on the memory of Harry's toothy grin. Usually she was careful and waiting for the other shoe to drop, but not this time. There was a bit of certainty in the unfamiliar situation, something she couldn't quite put her finger on, she decided to patiently wait and see. She hummed a familiar tune while putting away the new additions to her crockery. The same song her son decided to play on his journey back home.

Qué será, será. Whatever will be, will be. The future's not ours to see. Qué será, será.

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Let me know if you like the story! *** Join the taglist!

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TAG LIST: @laurxn-robinson @mellamolayla

Next chapter

[dredreadsdrawing]

Oc-tober Day 7: Fear

Hoohoo i suck at shading :'0 The second pic was the firdt concept art I drew of these gals. Then came the pencil sketches and lastly the one on top.

I've already got a Quickie summary of this story in my writing blog explaining who these characters are and what's going on, link HERE. So for this piece, I'll write the scene I drew lol. In it, only Kylee and the Wrath kid are left, but before they get a showdown, God gives them one last mercy. A night without worries. Anything they want, they will grant. Btw, I have decided on official names for these gals. Kylee the fangirl and Paloma the patient ghost.

~~~~

This was it.

Tomorrow, everything was bound to come to an end.

It felt unreal to Kylee. How far she's come, her numerous near death experiences, how nice their room was. God really knew how to treat em when they weren't being careless.

Still, God's assurance of a last peaceful night was a load off their shoulders. A blessing, you might even say.

Chevre left the scene immediately, deciding to spend their last day as a ghost doing their own kooky things. They felt robbed for not dying sooner to do it.

That left Kylee and Paloma, the original duo, to spend the night alone. Just like the good ol days.

They tried the hot tub, snacked on expensive sweets, watched Kylee's favorite episodes of her favorite shows, and had a great time.

Just like normal girls their age would spend a sleepover.

When it got super late, the magic of the tranquility was wearing off. Reality settled back in. Tomorrow was the end. No more fighting, no more floating. The ghosts would be reborn and someone new would be God.

A child. Both contestants left were underage.

And they had to fight eachother to the death. Kylee and Paloma agreed that if she won, she would pick older candidates next time. No kid should go through what she's gone.

Circling back to the competition, they talked about their opponent and his many helpers. They'd seen how ruthless he was. Opportunistic and never one to hesitate. He was a tough rival for sure.

Kylee got quiet for a bit, and Paloma squeezed her shoulder.

"Come on, cookie. Let's sleep early."

They snuggled onto the bed. Two had been accommodated for them, but they were used to sleeping in the same one. It was their piece of comfort.

After settling down, Kylee worded her next question carefully. She had already asked it before, when she first saw Paloma as a ghost, but it didn't hurt to have the answer retold.

What was it like to die?

Paloma stiffened. Her eyes softened. Her voice cracked a bitter smile.

"It hurts. Especially when you start struggling back. But once it's done, all you get is wave after wave of relief. Like when you ace a test you didn't study for." She laughed. It ended breathily.

Kylee didn't like her expression. She had seen it come up a lot in the past few days. And she knew exactly what it meant. She brought Paloma closer and held her face. Looking into her eyes, she asked as quietly as she could.

"... have you regretted it?"

Paloma shivered. Her eyes burst. She whimpered, and Kylee immediately brought her to her chest, letting her cry. Not a single tear stained her shirt.

"I was... So sure I did the right thing..."

"You did..."

Kylee remembered those first days. How surprisingly proud she seemed to have taken her own life. To be done with life and humanity. But as time wore on, her sentiments changed.

"I couldn't help it... I wondered... What would have happened if..."

She paused as sge choked on her words. Kylee gave her a pat. "It's ok..."

"No, it's not!" Paloma got up, her face a darker shade. "We could have been a team. We could have stuck together for as long as we could. Or- I could have been in your shoes right now. I could have been the one that made it to the end. Instead of putting all this pressure.... For you to do the right things."

Paloma was calming down, she rubbed her eyes. Kylee helped brush a tear from her cheek.

"I'm sorry I died so fast."

The words stung. Kylee wasn't taking this.

"Don't say that! If one of us is the bad one... It's... Me."

Kylee rubbed her arm. Paloma shook her head. "Not this again, Kylee-"

"I was a jerk. I admit it. I knew what was going on with you but I never stepped in. Really, Palo," Kylee started hyperventilating. Paloma rushed to embrace her. Their roles had effectively switched.

"If I had reached out to you sooner... If I was more involved... Someone better..." Kylee took Paloma's hand. Together, they squeezed them.

"If I was someone like you..."

"Stop it..."

So many what ifs lingered in their minds. So many paths they could have taken. Together.

But here they were, stuck. One as a ghost and the other possibly becoming a deity. About to fight for the right to be.

"Atleast... I got to show you my favorite stores. .." Paloma laughed at the memory of Kylee dragging her around unwillingly.

"We didn't even buy anything. You just had us people watch the entire day."

"But you had a good time anyways, didn't you?" The smiles are back. Paloma tilts her head and rests it on Kylee's shoulder.

"I did..."

While her death was premature, she had to count the small blessing that was her ability to stick to Kylee as a ghost. She got to see more than the bubble she knew. She got to make friends. And...

Kylee couldn't help the kiss she gave Paloma's forehead. Paloma's face burst and she laughed.

She got to feel so loved.

"Okay, Ms. God, settle back down. Tomorrow is... A big day."

Kylee snickered as she laid back down, Paloma following. After another small silence, Kylee's big mouth continued asking.

"If I win... What kind of life do you want?"

They hadn't touched the topic of Paloma's reincarnation.

The reality of her living without Kylee was too much.

Still, now that it was a serious possibility... This was a talk they needed to have. Paloma moved away a bit.

"Well, you're so creative Kylee, I'm sure you'll give me the best life..."

"But... I want to know what YOU want!"

Paloma was stunned for a bit, touched. Kylee really cared for her opinion. The selfish onlooker she first met was long gone.

"I'm being honest..." Paloma looked away. "I want whatever you give me. I trust you."

Kylee's stomach sank. She felt the weight of the world on her shoulders, now more than ever.

Paloma looked back at Kylee's serious expression, and she laughed some more. This was too serious for their last night together. "Stop worrying about it, cookie." She laid back down ans snuggled to her side. "Worry about surviving tomorrow. Only you can guarantee me that happy ending."

Kylee's gut sank further. It was the truth, but the pressure was on. She watched Paloma close her eyes and over time, drift away, her sleep as sound as when she was alive.

But Kylee couldn't follow, couldn't even stand to blink. Her anxiety was at an all time high. She had to win. She had to make it up to Paloma. She would be a good god, and rule like her girlfriend would.

Kylee's eyes watered again, mourning prematurely the departure to come. She looked to the ceiling. She would make Paloma happy. She knew her favorite foods, her favorite books, her favorite everything. She would give her the world on a platter, make her have the most fulfilling life. From wealth, to friends, to health and romance. Romance.

Yes.

Kylee was a multishipper. Kylee knew people could mesh well with more than one person. She could find Paloma another lover, a better one!

She would be fine.

Her stomach's knots stayed in place, no matter how long she repeated that phrase.

Yeah, Paloma would be fine.

But Kylee wouldn't.

Kylee had gotten what she wanted.

She would be alone now. Free from societal conventions. Free to do what she wanted. Free to people watch, free to bend wills, free to mess around and turn her ideas into reality.

She will find her own happiness. Somehow. The sentiment felt hollow in her chest.

Panic set in again.

What was she doing? What had she done?

She turned and looked at Paloma's face once more.

If she didn't win... There would be no more world. No more Kylee. No more Paloma.

These were her only options. Stay alone forever, or lose everything.

For the first time since the start of the game, she felt afraid of the outcome.