You Hear Some Ruckus And Wonbin Cursing Out Loud In The Room Next To Yours. Stifling In Your Laughter,

Nineteen

Oliver Aiku x Reader

Content: You don't know Oliver's actual age and assume that he's just some creep

[2,023 words]

     Oliver casually leaned against the counter nearby, his gaze locking onto you as a mischievous grin slowly spread across his lips. After a brief pause, he pushed himself off the counter, making his way toward you with confident strides.

     "Hey there—"

     Before he could even finish his sentence, you suddenly let out a scream so piercing it could've been heard miles away, your eyes locking onto him in pure shock.

     "Ah! Stranger danger!" you shouted with a dramatic flair.

     The entire room seemed to freeze. Conversations ceased, and a few heads turned in your direction, some with looks of confusion, others with a hint of concern. In an instant, you were off like a shot, darting through the crowd with the speed and agility of a deer escaping a predator. Without missing a beat, you slipped through the back door, leaving no time for anyone to react or stop you.

     Oliver stood there, blinking in complete disbelief, his face a mix of confusion and frustration.

     "What the hell is up with that chick?" he muttered, watching as you disappeared from sight.

     Shuto, his friend who had been standing nearby, couldn’t help but snicker under his breath, shaking his head with amusement. "Dude, that’s the second time she’s done that to you. What did you even do to freak her out so bad?"

     Oliver let out a deep sigh, running a hand through his dark, licorice-colored hair. The green underlayer of his hair caught the dim party lights, adding a subtle pop of color to his otherwise dark look.

     "I literally just said ‘hey,’" he responded, his voice tinged with bewilderment. 

     Unbeknownst to him, you had recently turned eighteen and were hyper-aware of the creepy old men who suddenly seemed too interested in your ‘freshly legal’ status. It freaked you out, so you had developed a habit of running at the first sign of a suspicious-looking older guy. And unfortunately for Oliver, with his strong facial hair, he looked like he had been through two divorces and had a midlife crisis at least once.

     The problem? He was only nineteen.

     It definitely wasn’t the last time you saw him. In fact, it felt like he was popping up everywhere you went. At the café you frequented every morning, there he was, standing in line ahead of you. At the grocery store, you’d turn the corner to find him browsing the aisles, as if the universe had a strange sense of humor. Even at the movie theater, when you were just trying to enjoy a film in peace, you’d spot him in line for tickets or grabbing snacks, like you couldn’t escape his presence no matter where you went.

     He wasn’t actively following you, you were sure of that. It wasn’t like he was showing up in places you were just to make you feel uneasy. But somehow, it seemed like fate had a funny way of throwing the two of you into the same spaces at the most unexpected moments. It was as if the universe had decided that your paths were meant to cross over and over, whether you liked it or not.

     The next time you encountered him, it was a literal collision at the bookstore.

     "Oh, it’s you," he muttered, rubbing his chest where you'd bumped into him.

     Your eyes widened in recognition. "Ah!" Without missing a beat, you turned on your heels and ran once more, nearly knocking over a display of discounted romance novels.

     Oliver groaned. "Seriously? Again?"

     By the time the next inevitable encounter happened, you were at a party—one mostly filled with college freshmen and their friends. You were laughing with a friend when your eyes landed on a familiar face. Your laughter died instantly.

     What the hell was a grown-ass man, who looked like he worked a corporate job and was on his third failed marriage, doing at a party for college kids?

     Your confusion doubled when you got a good look at him. Okay… he looked really good. Like, annoyingly good. His dark hair was styled messily yet effortlessly, and those mismatched eyes were way too pretty to belong to some sketchy older dude.

     Unfortunately for you, he noticed your staring and started making his way over.

     "Hey, gorgeous."

     Oh no. That was dangerous. That was flirting. And worse? It was working.

     You stiffened. "What are you doing here?"

     Oliver blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Uh… what?"

     But before he could even respond properly, you turned on your heels and disappeared into the crowd. Again. You leaned against a wall, your heart racing. What was wrong with you? Why did he have to look so good?

     Was this how girls with older men kinks felt?

     The next incident, you stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for your floor. Just as the doors were about to close, a hand shot in to stop them.

     It was him.

     You made direct eye contact. He sighed. "Oh, for the love of—"

     You slammed the ‘door close’ button repeatedly like your life depended on it.

     Unfortunately, fate was not on your side, and Oliver casually stepped in, letting the doors close behind him.

     Trapped.

     You stiffened, staring straight ahead. Maybe if you didn’t move, he wouldn’t notice you.

Oliver, exasperated, pinched the bridge of his nose. 

     You’ve lost count on how many times this has happened now. 

     One seemingly ordinary day, everything around you seemed to crumble in the most unexpected way. It all began with something as simple as an invitation—your friend had asked if you wanted to tag along to her boyfriend’s soccer practice. At the time, it didn’t seem like anything extraordinary. You figured it would be a good way to kill an afternoon, a casual way to pass the time. Plus, her boyfriend happened to be on Japan’s U20 soccer team, which was cool enough in itself to spark some curiosity.

     You had expected to watch a bunch of talented players showing off their skills, maybe even get a little impressed by their moves. The idea of watching a professional practice session sounded like it would be a decent way to spend a few hours, and that was it.

     What you hadn’t expected, though, was to see him. The very same guy who seemed to keep showing up in all the random places you visited. The one who had somehow made his way into your life without you even realizing it. 

     Dressed in crisp white and coral, effortlessly orchestrating the field with razor-sharp precision, was the very man you had spent weeks actively avoiding like the plague. Every pass he made was deliberate, every defensive maneuver executed with ruthless efficiency. He moved like someone who had spent his entire life perfecting his craft—quick, calculated, untouchable.

     Your stomach twisted violently as the realization hit you like a freight train. The guy you had been convinced was some weird, middle-aged creep with a concerning tendency to appear everywhere you went? The one whose presence had unsettled you to no end? Yeah. Turns out, he wasn’t some lurking menace at all. He was an elite athlete in his prime—one of the country’s top young players, no less.

     And now? Now, he was looking right at you.

     Oh, shit.

     Your breath caught in your throat as he strode toward you, still glistening with sweat from the intense practice session. His damp, jet-black hair clung to his forehead, a few unruly strands falling over piercing, mismatched eyes that locked onto you with an expression teetering between amusement and exasperation.

     There was no escaping it now.

     "You’re strange," he said flatly when he finally approached you. He was half expecting you to bolt again, but was a little taken back when you didn’t. Instead, you looked up at his towering frame with doey eyes filled with embarrassment. 

     "H-How old are you?" you blurted out, because at this point, you needed absolute confirmation that you hadn’t been acting insane for no reason.

     Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Guess."

     “25?" You said so confidently he gasped.

     "WHAT?!"

     "…30?"

     "Now you’re just fucking with me."

     "Um… 29?"

     He stared at you, visibly in pain. "I’m nineteen."

     Your jaw dropped. "What?!"

     "I’m literally on the U20 team," he deadpanned. "That means I am under 20."

     "Well, I didn’t know you were on the team!" you snapped, now feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

     Oliver let out a long, suffering sigh, dragging a hand down his face. "Now that you found out I am, I bet you want me though, right? Tch, shallow women these days."

     "Hey!" You crossed your arms, scowling. "I thought you were some weird old dude following me around! Besides, I don’t even know your name—" Your eyes flickered down to his jersey, where ‘AIKU’ was printed in bold letters.

     '…Aiku.'

     He sighed, clearly exhausted. "Oliver," he corrected.

     You blinked. Oliver Aiku?

     "Yeah." He rubbed his temples. "That’s it. I’m shaving my beard."

     That threw you off. "Wait, what?"

     Oliver groaned. "I look in the mirror every day and think I look fine. But no, apparently I’ve got the aura of a dude with a corporate job and three divorces! Do you know how messed up that is? I’m still in the ‘teens’"

     "Sorry," you muttered, averting your gaze.

     "Unbelievable," Oliver grumbled. "I can’t believe I got traumatized by a random chick who thought I was thirty."

     You snorted, crossing your arms. "Traumatized? I was the one out here fearing for my life every time I ran into you!"

     "Well, maybe if you actually looked at me instead of running away screaming, you wouldn’t have this problem."

     You pointed at him accusingly. "Are you actually nineteen? Or are you a forty-year-old man who got isekai’d into a younger body?"

     He groaned. "For the last time, I am nineteen!"

     You narrowed your eyes. "That’s exactly what a forty-year-old would say."

     "Bro." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he stared at you.

     "Sorry, what can I do to make it up to you?" you asked sheepishly, genuinely worried you'd somehow messed up the vibe. 

     Oliver eyed you with a half-frustrated look, his hands on his hips like he was preparing to deliver some life lesson.

     "Give me your phone," he said, not waiting for a reply as you reluctantly handed it over. You were half scared but curious, was he going to take 0.5 pics of you and leak them to the internet?

     Oliver continued navigating your phone, asking "You busy tomorrow night?"

     You blinked. "Uh, no. Why?"

     He turned the phone in his hand and casually added his number to your contacts, tapping the screen before handing it back to you. "You are now."

     Your eyes widened in shock as you looked down at your screen. "Wait, did you just—?"

     "Yep. Don’t make me regret it," he said with a teasing smile.

     Before you could even respond, he was already walking off, leaving you standing there with your phone in hand.

     You tried to shake it off, but when you met him the next night, you were hit with a wave of surprise. There he was, standing at the restaurant entrance, his usual grin on his face. But something was different.

     Oliver had shaved. Completely. No beard. His face, which had previously carried the ruggedness of someone much older, was now startlingly smooth. And if possible, he looked even younger than you remembered—maybe even younger than his real age of nineteen.

     "Oliver?" You stammered, unable to hide the shock from your voice. You had expected some hint of stubble, some remnant of his previous ‘older man’ look, but no. Nothing. Hair really is a man’s makeup. 

     He chuckled, clearly amused by your stunned expression. "Surprised?"

     "You look... like you're actually nineteen," you managed, still processing the sight of his clean-shaven face.

     Oliver grinned, his mismatched eyes twinkling mischievously. "Yeah, well, I thought I'd give it a try for a date with a pretty girl."

     You shook your head, still trying to process the fact that this was the same guy who had spent weeks looking like someone who pays alimony and a mortgage.

and his voice is a familiar sound | scaramouche

forced proximity + childhood friends reuniting, humor, kissing and tension. suggestive implications and suggestive humor, a bit of scara’s mommy issues, wc 5k

ft. a down bad jealous bf scaramouche, bffs heizou and kazuha, and aether bc aether always has to be there

“If I ask you to come with us for a vacation, would you say yes?”

Your bedroom was already too cramped for one person, with what you could afford with your money after quitting your part-time job. It made it incredibly difficult for all parties involved when you invited someone over, especially when that person had no concept of personal space. You barely looked up from the pages of your book, humming halfheartedly to whatever Heizou is saying. You heard vacation and instantly decided to not waste your time.

Heizou must have sensed these thoughts, too, because he forces himself into your field of view by nearly climbing over your lap. “Hey, look at me. Would you say yes?”

“Heizou!” you hissed, pushing him off before Heizou could wrinkle the pages of the book that’s definitely overdue for borrowing time. You started to think about taking another part-time job if your friends kept inviting themselves over and invading your personal space.

Heizou looked at you, his face doing a complicated combination of a frown and a smug grin. “Come on. You never join us on trips…”

“For good reason,” you said, gesturing to the lapful of Heizou you are currently getting bombarded with.

“You’re so mean,” Heizou laughed, thankfully getting off your lap. He refused to let go of you, however, immediately wrapping an arm over your shoulder and pressing up against your side. This must be one of his techniques to make the people he was questioning feel restricted. It was working. “How will you get yourself to settle for a nice, young man with that attitude? What are you even reading?”

“I grabbed whatever book had a pleasing cover so I can tune your nonsense out.” It wasn’t exactly a lie.

“What?” Heizou clapped the book shut and turned to you with the eyes of a reprimanding mother. “I swear I’m being serious. Can’t you consider it for even a minute? You’re breaking my heart. Plus, Kazuha’s the one who’s inviting us out.”

Hmm. What a compelling argument. Heizou knew that no one could ever say no to Kazuha. You wouldn’t really care if your absence would break Heizou’s heart, but Kazuha’s disappointed eyes were enough to put a god to their knees.

You zeroed in on Heizou’s wording. “Who’s ‘us’?”

Heizou started listing each with a raise of a finger. “Just Kazuha and Aether—and a friend we met recently. Kazuha invited him.”

You frowned. You didn’t know Aether visited again. “How the hell did Aether get invited?” Then, upon careful reflection: “And who’s the new friend?”

“If he was around, why not, right?” Heizou laughed, carefully setting the overdue book aside from your view. “The new friend’s Scaramouche. Have you met him before?”

What a strange name. Kazuha always managed to befriend people from all over, like a child bringing home turtles and a new species of bugs. You made a note to look him up. “Never heard of him.”

He hummed. “Said he came from Sumeru but he looked pretty Inazuman to me. Funny guy. He’s like a disgruntled baby brother.”

“And you only met him, what, recently? Why is he invited to our group already?” you asked, like the territorial person you are. How come it seemed like you were the last to know about this guy?

Aether was alright. Aether came back every few months to check up on everyone and got roped into all kinds of things with your friends, so you knew him well enough already. You liked his long braid. Heizou and Kazuha had been your friends for as long as you could remember being a college student.

Heizou grinned, patting your head. “Scaramouche’s nice, I promise. You wouldn’t even notice he’s there.”

At your dubious stare, Heizou amended, “C’mon, do you think I’m the type to befriend an asshole?”

Yes, but Heizou wasn’t the type to befriend a major asshole whose opinions he vehemently disagreed with, and he thought belonged better in jail, so you had to think about it for a bit. At the very least, this new guy didn’t seem like a criminal.

Your friends loved traveling, with Kazuha mostly being the culprit, but you liked staying inside most of the time. They never forced you to go with them, so why was Heizou being suspiciously persistent today?

“I think he’s your type,” Heizou finally said, caving in.

“You’re trying to hook me up with him?”

“Not exactly… but you two would seem cute.” He went silent for a thoughtful moment. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed if you slept together.”

You made a face.

Heizou laughed brightly. “Alright, alright. You can go back to being the good poster student you are if you promise to think about it. Seriously. Kazuha’s moving to Liyue soon—he’s probably inviting us out because of that.”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, reaching around for your book.

You would. What Heizou said about Kazuha made you remember that there are only a few weeks left until this is all over—then, after that, you all might go your separate ways. That thought floated around your mind for a little while as Heizou made himself comfortable on your bed, sighing before he dozed off.

You sighed, shuffling to give him space. “If this is your way of trying to make me get laid, try to at least be subtle and not weird me out before I even meet the guy.”

You stalked Kazuha’s Insta to search up this Scaramouche guy and nearly dropped your phone.

scaramouche11206. It was empty, entirely useless for your research. Scaramouche’s profile was a public account, had zero posts, and had four people he was following. It was Kazuha, Aether, Heizou, and a Vahumana Darshan update page.

You checked the tagged posts, and your jaw dropped to the ground.

Scaramouche was Kunikuzushi.

Heizou was taking a group selfie in the image, his tongue stuck out and winking while the camera showed two other men. On the left was Kazuha, with his ever-polite smile, then on the other, with the all-black getup was what the tags said was scaramouche11206.

It was a little difficult to tell why you were enamoured with the masked face with a short hime cut for a moment, but the piercing stare to the camera couldn’t be mistaken. It was a minute of staring before it clicked. This was your Kunikuzushi.

You dialed Heizou before you could even think about it.

“What…? It’s five a.m.” He sounded like he just woke up, “What’s up?”

You swiped back to the image of Scaramouche, as if staring at it any longer would imprint each pixel to your brain and bring him to life before you. “Hey, where’s Kazuha? Tell him I’m going.”

YEARS AGO.

Summer. The cicadas rang in your ears. They chirped about as you and Kunikuzushi trudged further into the forest. Sunlight peeked through the leaves, splashing Kunikuzushi’s beautiful face in a delicate glow.

Komorebi. Shadows scattered on the ground. Kunikuzushi lifted his head and turned to you. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

His voice was quiet, but even with the wind and the singing cicadas, you could hear him loud and clear. You could pick out his voice from a crowd. Your heart would know where to find him.

“I like looking at you,” you said. “I like you.”

He accepted the answer and continued walking. You beamed. Usually, Kunikuzushi would scoff and bat your words away, hiding his flustered face. But he didn’t.

Longing. Kunikuzushi turned back to you, stopping in his steps. You nearly bumped onto his back. “Do you like me enough to marry me?”

Was this a marriage proposal? You tried to think of you and Kunikuzushi, walking down aisles and reciting vows, and almost laughed. But then you tried to think of anyone else. You tried to think of a life without Kunikuzushi.

You thought of Kunikuzushi with anyone else and nearly threw up in his face. “You’re the only one for me.”

“Even if I hurt you?”

You frowned. “You would never hurt me, Kuni.”

Kunikuzushi’s expression crumpled. He could never hide anything from you; he was too expressive, eyes round and lip trembling. Your heart sunk to your stomach. You reached for his hands and forced him to look at you. “Kuni, what’s wrong? Did something happen?”

He looked at the ground. “I said I didn’t want to live with her anymore. I didn’t really think Mom would make Aunt Nahida take me.”

The cicadas faded. The world fell into a hush. Your grip on his hands grew weak. “What?”

Kunikuzushi didn’t have a good relationship with his mother; you knew that. They were complicated. They always fought and he grew up to loathe her. You knew that. But you didn’t think…

You breathed in deeply. It was not Kunikuzushi’s fault. It was not Ei’s—and definitely not Nahida’s fault. It was just the way things go sometimes.

You forced a laugh, hoping to ease the troubled expression on his face. “Were you proposing because you’re moving away?”

Kunikuzushi blushed. “Shut up.”

Your face softened. He was always so cute when his face was as red as the red by his eyes.

Kunikuzushi inhaled sharply, taking your hands and looking at you with a determined glint in his eyes. “If I were going to ask you out, I would do it better than anyone who would try to marry you. So don’t entertain them.”

The trip’s plan was basically swimming when you could, staying at a hotel, driving out of the hotel to eat somewhere cheaper, and it would be stretched out for a few days. All in all, it didn’t sound too bad. With the type of people you were going out with, you were expecting a lot more drinking (Kazuha) and near-death-related activities (Aether). Although Heizou said it was Kazuha’s trip, he was apparently mistaken.

“It was originally for Scaramouche and his family, but his mother had last-minute changes and couldn’t go,” Kazuha explained as he helped you fit your luggage in the trunk of Aether’s car. “Scaramouche said it would be a waste and told me to invite my friends.”

“Woo-hoo, Scaramouche’s mom!” Heizou cheered.

“When we met her, it seemed like you hated her,” Kazuha mused as Heizou climbed inside the car. You were in the passenger seat while the two were shoved in the back. It seemed that even if you moved to a bigger apartment, you’d end up suffocated by Inazuman men either way.

“Hard not to after hearing Scara’s contempt for her. I’m an empath or something.” 

Aether adjusted the side mirrors. “Are we forgetting anything?”

“Where’s the Scaramouche guy?” you asked.

Heizou cast you a sly smile. “He’s already at the hotel, probably buying us other rooms.”

At least another thing about him hadn’t changed: he’s still disgustingly rich. You did some digging about the hotel, and it was the kind of place you could only dream of even looking at. You suddenly felt severely underdressed for a five-star hotel, with only sweatpants, a duffle bag, and a dream.

“Hmm, I don’t think so,” Kazuha said, and weirdly enough, you caught him looking at you curiously from the sideview mirror.

“No?” Heizou crossed his arms behind his head. “I doubt Scaramouche’s the type to willingly share a room with anyone.”

Aether scoffed, laughing under his breath. “Definitely not with us.”

You looked outside to hide a smile. It seemed that your Kunikuzushi hadn’t really changed drastically. This made you feel better about meeting him again.

“What made you change your mind?” Heizou asked.

You sighed and fell into step along with him as Kazuha and Aether went on ahead. There are families crowding the lobby, draped in gold that matched the fabric of the chandeliers overhead. Their jewelry was brighter than your future. Even the floor smelled expensive.

“Scaramouche did,” you mumbled.

Heizou’s brows lifted to his hairline. “Oh?”

“I mean—I don’t know, I’m not sure yet.” You were absolutely sure, but it’d be embarrassing if he didn’t recognize you at all, and Heizou would think you were just lying. It had been years.

Heizou tilted his head. “Well, whatever it is, I’m rooting for you. And if he fucks up, I know how to pack a punch.”

You didn’t doubt it. Heizou definitely knew how to pack a punch.

The hotel was so fancy and so meant for only rich kids that you and Heizou stood out like sore thumbs by looking around. Some woman your age walked past, her chin high and her steps light. You and Heizou looked at each other, then tried to mimic the same grace as you pair sashayed towards the desk.

“What are you idiots doing?” Aether asked as you reached them.

“Fitting in, unlike you,” Heizou said.

A new voice cut in. “Took you losers long enough.”

Scaramouche turned around after speaking to the clerk, his mouth in a thin line and his stare piercing. He also stood out next to the men in polo with his fingerless gloves and gold rings. He looked like he belonged better on an Inazuman fashion magazine cover than on a hotel vacation with a bunch of losers.

Heizou beamed. “Scara!”

“Hey,” Scaramouche said, then his eyes landed on you.

It was hard to tell if there was any reaction on his face because Heizou went up to him to ruffle his hair, stealing away his attention.

“Thanks for inviting us out. I didn’t know you were the type to want to snuggle with his friends.” Heizou waggled his eyebrows as Scaramouche pushed him away with a hand to Heizou’s face.

Scaramouche wrinkled his nose. “I am not sharing a room with any of you three. You snore, Kazuha snores louder, and I would wake up to Aether’s leg on my stomach the next morning.”

“That was one time,” Aether muttered, blushing.

“How many rooms are reserved?” Kazuha asked.

Scaramouche sighed, craning his neck. He had a really nice side profile. “Still two. The other one with a king and the other with two queens. I was supposed to have the first, but you didn’t tell me you were inviting someone else. This shithole’s booked full now.”

Your gaze fluttered away as they all turned to you. You bit your lip, frowning. Did Scaramouche not recognize you? He was acting like he didn’t. He was treating you like he would any stranger. That upset you, but for the entire car ride, you were also preparing for it. It probably would’ve hurt worse if you hadn’t mentally prepared yourself.

Heizou grinned, slinging an arm over Scaramouche’s shoulder. “I suppose you have no choice but to share a bed with us.”

“No.” Scaramouche picked up his luggage and started rolling away. “Heizou, Kazuha, Aether, you share the king.”

The three men turned to you instead, surprise visible in their expressions. It was exactly because Scaramouche decided to share a room with you, whom he never acknowledged since you arrived.

You wanted to protest. If Scaramouche didn’t recognize you and opted for a choice that didn’t involve sharing a room with anyone, you’d rather sleep on the floor in Kazuha and the others’ room. But Scaramouche was already stepping inside the elevator and was holding the door for you.

You held your gaze to the floor the entire time as Scaramouche pointed at a room and told the three they would sleep there. Scaramouche flashed the card against the door of your room, then stepped inside.

“This one’s ours,” Scaramouche said. You couldn’t detect any hint of emotion.

The room was bigger than the two rooms at your apartment. It had two beds, as Scaramouche said, and a TV across. The room was cold as fuck. You shuddered, and Scaramouche remained unbothered with his layers of clothes that probably cost more than you.

As Scaramouche set his luggage on the bed closest to the window, you gathered the courage to not make this trip any more awkward.

You breathed in deeply. “I’m Y/N—”

“I haven’t forgotten.” He arched an eyebrow as he sat on the edge of his bed, staring at you. “Have you forgotten about me?”

“No, no, of course not,” you said. “I could never forget you, Kunikuzushi.”

You stiffened, thinking it was a mistake and there must’ve been a reason he was called by another name, but you took a look at him and got distracted. His face relaxed when you said his name.

I could never forget you. It was sickeningly true. You can never forget about Kunikuzushi. He was your first love. He was so cute with his wide eyes; and he was very clingy, too, which made him all the more endearing.

But looking at the present Kunikuzushi, with his intense stare and permanently bored expression, he was hot, and you started to think that maybe your type was just Kunikuzushi.

Horror settled in your stomach as Scaramouche flashed a wicked grin.

“Then you wouldn’t mind sleeping with me, would you?”

“He said what?” Heizou cackled, hitting the wall as he threw his head back, laughing.

Scaramouche meant it as sleeping in the same room, but he could have— no, should have worded it better. Scaramouche laid down on his bed right after and went on his phone as if he didn’t say anything at all. You blurted some half-baked excuse and left the room to cry about it in your friends’ room.

When Scaramouche said their room was assigned a king bed, you didn’t expect it to fit five people—and Scaramouche said he wanted it for himself? The bed was incredibly big, almost in a lonely way. You have never seen an Alaskan king bed before, but now, sitting on the edge of it, felt as if you could fit your entire apartment on it.

Kazuha was in between Heizou and Aether, their backs resting on the headboard. They were about to sleep, too, but as soon as you burst in, they settled into position and listened intently. Except Aether, kind of; he was texting his sister, who was demanding a room tour.

“I never thought he would be this bold. I mean, demanding to share a room the moment he laid his eyes on you? Wow,” Heizou said, looking terribly criminal with his expression.

“It is surprising,” Kazuha mused. “I’ve witnessed how women flock to his feet and how he bat them all off like he never saw them.”

An unpleasant feeling washed over, which was weird because why would you be upset? Of course they’d flock to him—with a face like that. He had the looks and the personality that would garner him a lot of masochistic fans if he were a character in a drama.

“Does that happen a lot?” The way you spat it out spelled exactly how upset you are.

“No need to get so jealous, now. After that display, I’m positive that he wants as much as you want him,” Heizou laughed, falling forward and resting his elbows on the mattress. He moved his chin to his palm. He looked like he was going to ask if you wanted to paint nails and curl hairs the next second.

Your face felt hot. What was this conversation? You’d much prefer painting nails than talking about this. “I don’t want him!”

Heizou arched an eyebrow. “No?”

Even Kazuha looked doubtful, which was enough of a blow.

“I’m just confused,” you insisted. “You know what happens when you’re in a room alone with an objectively attractive guy? You get confused.”

“I get it,” Aether said, setting his phone aside to share his insight. “This is your sexual awakening.”

“What? No!”

“It definitely is,” Heizou agreed. “Why else are you crying about this to us?”

There was a sense of impending doom at realizing that Heizou was brewing some horrible, horrible thoughts in that head of his. “To stop feeding into my madness!”

Heizou clicked his tongue. “How do you think he feels? His childhood best friend came back to his life looking like that—I’m surprised he hasn't eaten you right up yet.”

You didn’t know what was more horrifying: Heizou implying he thought you were hot, or him implying that he thought Scaramouche thought you were hot.

Your face must’ve looked like a constipated mix between flustered and horrified; Kazuha chimed in to tell Heizou, “You should be more careful with your words. I’ve never met anyone as possessive as Scaramouche.”

“It’s already a miracle he even remembers me. He wouldn’t get jealous. I doubt he actually wants me that way,” you sighed.

“Oh, but you want him that way?” Heizou asked.

You wanted to slap that expression off Heizou’s face. “Of course I do. He was so cute when we were little—I already liked him then. I didn’t think he’d grow up to be so…”

“Sexual awakening,” Aether said again.

“Ow,” Aether whined when you hit him square on the head.

Reluctantly, you returned to your room. Heizou, Kazuha, and Aether told you to get your shit together and face this not-sexual-awakening like a man. Kazuha didn’t say it, but you could feel that he was also thinking it. And if he ever said it out loud, you’d tell him to go fuck off to Liyue already.

Scaramouche was awake. The door clicked shut, and you faintly felt like those heroines locking themselves up in a room to hook up with someone who they didn’t think was the murderer on the front page right now.

“Where did you go?” he asked.

You tried not to let your surprise show, but Scaramouche was staring so intently that you would’ve failed miserably either way. “The other room.”

The longer you looked at him, the more you realized that Kunikuzushi felt like a fever dream. Being only a few feet away from the guy you used to be so fond of, now grown and had an air of haughtiness that would’ve been a turn-off had it been anyone else— it was doing things to you.

“Are you scared of me?”

You laughed and nearly choked on it when registering that Scaramouche was still looking. It wasn’t something like embarrassment. It was more like laughing unabashedly and then sensing that your hallway crush walked past. Maybe it was a bit of embarrassment.

“No. No, I’m not scared.” You moved to sit on your bed, eyes trained on the wall. “You didn’t tell me you were back.”

“You changed your number. You moved out.”

“Oh.” You did do that. Your apartment was very far from your home.

“And I figured you forgot about me or wanted to forget about me because of what I did to you.”

“Oh.” You wanted to say that he didn’t affect you that much. Life goes on; you meet new people and lose them every day, and all that. But Scaramouche was affecting you that much, especially when he’s only a few feet away from you, looking like he wanted you to pounce him.

Scaramouche grinned lopsidedly. “But I guess I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

What the hell does that mean? Your heart skipped a beat. Did he figure it out? Were you that obvious with your thoughts about pouncing?

Scaramouche stood up from his bed, moving towards yours slowly. “Are you seeing anyone right now?”

You tried to avoid getting too close by leaning back, but he kept drawing his face closer, bending towards you. You’re one last tilt away from him pinning you down on the bed.

“No,” you blurted before you could even think about it. It was a little difficult to think about anyone else when you were a breath away from kissing. “Why?”

Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed, electric indigo. “Do you still have a crush on me?”

“You’re asking too many questions.”

“We’re catching up. This is how it works, doesn’t it?”

No, it was definitely not how this worked. Your neck was starting to ache with this awkward angle, and he hadn’t even answered your question.

“Do you?” he repeated, hovering above you.

You gave up on the painful angle and laid flat on the bed, frowning up at him. You crossed your arms to achieve the stance of someone who will not back down easily. “How are you so sure I even had a crush on you?”

“You’re telling me I’m wrong?”

What was this? Some fucked up game of 21 questions, but Scaramouche was too high and mighty to follow the rules? You didn’t know what to say to that. You wisely decided to stay silent, glaring up at him.

You probably didn’t look intimidating at all. Scaramouche smiled, much less sharper. Almost fond as his eyes flicked down to somewhere below your nose. “Am I still the only one for you?”

Okay. You would back down easily if he kept looking at you like that.

“You didn’t hurt me, Kuni.” You sighed. “You never could.”

Scaramouche straightened, his face carefully blank. It was much harder to read him like this. You sat up, wanting to ask if it was the wrong thing to say. You couldn’t get the words out because he lunged for a kiss.

You might have gasped. You might have made some embarrassing noise while a laugh rumbled from the back of Scaramouche’s throat. But that was all thrown out the window the moment your eyes fluttered shut and you lost yourself in the sensation of his warm mouth on yours.

He pushed closer, and you were pulled back on the mattress, his arms on either side of your head. Your eyes flew open when Scaramouche nipped at your lip. As if suddenly remembering where and who you were, you forced his chest back and gaped.

“What?” He looked irritated you interrupted him.

“At least say it back!”

“You didn’t even say it,” Scaramouche said, one eyebrow raised.

“I like you, Kunikuzushi.”

Scaramouche turned red and then looked humbled that you saw it. “I still like you, too.”

You looked at him up and down. You asked, but you didn’t want to hear the answer. “And you didn’t have anyone while you were in Sumeru?”

“Of course not,” Scaramouche scoffed. “You think anyone there was worth my time? You think I’d settle for less than you?” He scowled. “How about you? Nevermind, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know. I’d do it better than any of them.”

You laughed, tugging him close with your arms around his neck. If anyone were to come in, they would assume the worst. Then again, maybe Scaramouche had plans to indulge in the worst.

wake up! let’s eat breakfast at the restaurant we saw yesterday!

ask scaramouche. so he can pay for us

Despite the freedom and space of lying on separate queen beds, you and Scaramouche were huddled and pressed close. And despite books in your bag, you were occupied with huddling and pressing close against Scaramouche. You were lying on his chest while he had an arm resting on your stomach.

As soon as Heizou’s texts appeared on the top banner of your screen, you looked up, and Scaramouche looked like he was going to murder someone.

“It’s a joke, probably,” you said. “They don’t see you as a wallet.”

“It’s not a joke,” Scaramouche said. “I don’t really care about that. You and Heizou close?”

“He’s the one who introduced me to Kazuha and the others.” You sat up from the comfortable position and stretched.

“So you’re close.”

“Oh, very much so.” Then you laughed at Scaramouche’s thunderous expression. “Idiot. Why are you jealous? He’s not the one I’m sharing a room with and was making out with last night.”

Scaramouche’s gaze cut down to your neck. He looked extremely pleased.

You and Scaramouche took the elevator down, holding hands throughout. You felt a little giddy. What must this look like to everyone else? They’d all assume you were out with your boyfriend. As you reached your friends, Aether had just started the car. Kazuha slipped into the passenger seat, and Heizou waved at the both of you.

Then Heizou gasped. Aether turned to you and gasped as well.

“What happened to you? You look like you were mauled by a tiger,” Aether asked, scandalized.

“If the tiger had a short hime cut and a thick wallet, maybe,” Heizou mused. You flipped him off and climbed inside the car. Heizou laughed and sat beside you.

Aether frowned. “What kind of tiger would that be?”

You groaned, burying your face in your palms and wishing that lightning would strike you down. You needed coffee. Or a beer. Maybe if you bat your eyelashes and kissed him on the lips, Scaramouche would buy you bottles of wine.

As if summoned by your thoughts, a figure forced himself in between you and Heizou. Scaramouche worked fast. He glared at Heizou and tugged you away from him.

Heizou’s eyes went wide. “What’d I do?”

“Know your place, Shikanoin,” Scaramouche said. You just wanted to at least not be half-sitting on his lap, but he was proving a point and didn’t let you budge.

Kazuha smiled. “I warned you, Heizou.”

“Damn,” Heizou said. He looked exhausted. He was the one who suggested you and Scaramouche hook up in the first place—did he not expect his intuition to be right this time? “Didn’t take you for the clingy type. Two more days of this?”

“This is not some fling,” Scaramouche hissed. “You think I don’t take this seriously?”

You smiled as your heart fluttered. Scaramouche could be so unintentionally sweet sometimes, not that you’d tell it to his face, because he would grumble and hide his face. You rather liked his face. It was pretty, and you knew that if you tugged his hood down, you’d see a bruise on his neck as well.

“Didn’t take him for a romantic as well,” Kazuha said, thoroughly entertained.

“Wait, are you actually a thing now?” Aether made a face. “What the hell happened in that room?”

Scaramouche smirked. “You sure you wanna know?”

a/n it was already so hard for me to not turn it into a heizou fic dude. That entire first part was so unnecessary i was just hopelessly infatuated. BUT ANYWAY!!1 thank you so much for reading i hope u liked it <3 if u do, leave a comment or a reblog so i can see your thoughts :DD

also, another note: on the day i wrote this fic the insta acc of scara didnt exist. so if it does by the time youve read this fic, its pure coincidence and i have nothing to do w it. or maybe i did, because i came up w the name HAHA

۫ ꣑ৎ . HIS ULTRAVIOLENT PROSE. mydei

summary, even with half-bitten pomegranates between tongue, teeth and heart, the prince of Kremnos tries to make amends with you.

mydei x gn!reader. mildly lovers to enemies. tension and arguments. hurt with comfort. mentions of arranged marriage and eloping (love this trope with him) soft and gentle mydei, might be ooc. lore-inclined city-state ceremonies. [2.0k wc]

It’s merely an alliance ceremony.

And yet here you were, being dressed in foreign silks and heavy accessories. Compared to your usual attires the fabrics are lightweight, enough for a cold rush to scrape your skin despite the torch lit by the corner of your room.

Your face must’ve betrayed you, for the maidens that attended to you murmured about it being part of Kremnoan traditions and that you had to endure it, only with such a solid statement do you deflate, settling stiffly and defeatedly on the chair, allowing them to continue their decorations on you, to peel you bare of your sea-state city garments and pool Castrum Kremnos‘ silk clothes, sandals and cape over you.

At this very moment, you looked like a raw and beguiling warrior, a far cry of what you truly were, an ignorant coward.

“You look beautiful.” A more elderly woman speaks from behind, you stare at her through the vanity.

“…I look like a fighter.”

“Are you not?”

You hesitate to answer her, biting your lip to prevent yourself from speaking something you might regret.

Are you still labeled a fighter after losing your city to Castrum Kremnos?

You were anything but triumph, you lost your kingdom, your pride, your people—and only this alliance union can salvage whatever scraps of glory you have left, it's the only thing you could do for your folks since you disappointed them as their leader.

The elder woman’s hand lands softly on your shoulder, despite such a gentle manner you cannot help the flinch from echoing through your bones. Your nails bury into your palms.

“I assure you, young one, that shame is the last thing Castrum Kremnos would dare to offer you and your city-state.”

She pauses.

“Our prince would not dare such a thing from you.”

You wanted to laugh, to cry and scream and ruminate frustrations. But you swallow instead, “I see.”

You did not utter another word after that. The maidens have left long ago and you pondered with your own thoughts, recounting the gradual yesterdays you spent mourning over fallen friends and a broken city. You recounted tidbit memories of the remaining council that pushed you for this alliance—forcing you to succumb and kneel towards the very people that took your everything.

After all, as the last remaining royal blood, that’s the least you can do.

The Kremnos’ heavy bells finally billow, and you inhale sharply.

“It’s time for you to step into the ceremony hall, lord.”

And you stand, your heart heavy with pressure. When you followed a counselor towards your destination, the older man gave you a quick rundown of certain rules and traditions you needed to adhere to, you half-listened to the convoluted rules until the very last statement that catches your attention,

“At the end of the blessings, you are to share a cup of pomegranate juice with the one you are to join alliance with.” he starts,

“In this case, you are to drink from the same cup with the representative of our city, Kremnos’ prince Mydeimos.”

His name is an echo through the shell of your ears, leaving a bitter aftertaste between your teeth. You stopped listening after that, until you both faltered at the end of the corridor.

Your heart is pounding in your chest when the large, looming doors split open, by now, the hall is packed and standing at the very front was the ceremony priest and Mydeimos himself, awaiting your arrival. When you step beside him on the podium, your gaze dare not shift towards the prince.

You let the withered voice of the priest wander you through the prayer, he lifts an iron chalice brimming with liquid as red as blood—you watch quietly as he lifts a smaller glass of honey, letting the golden liquid pool into the red cup before blessing the drink.

The priest turns to you, with a nod he beckons you to mirror the oath spoken. With parted lips, you follow along, pledging allegiance and alliance to Castrum Kremnos, “And with the glory of Strife and blood intertwined in allegiance with Castrum Kremnos, I, the succeeding lord of my city shall share the same devotion of valorous death before glorious return.”

You tilt your chin, lips pressed against the iron. The tangy yet thickly sweet taste of pomegranate rinses through your tastebuds. When the red liquid hits the middle line, you retract, turning towards the direction of the prince.

You look at him, only to find his heavy resin eyes already on you.

Mydeimos’ blank stare traces every bare action you do, and for a split moment you try to hold his weighty stare, trying to dissect his expression—trying to see what he thinks of the whole thing, and yet you find none.

You’ve dropped your gaze then, before extending the chalice in his direction. You slightly stir when you feel his fingertips brush your knuckles, you are quick to let go when he grabs ahold of the cup—too quickly.

How audacious, you cannot help but wonder when the priest speaks the same oath to him, Mydeimos recites it but his eyes never stray from you. Truly, he’s like a prowling lion assessing its prey.

There’s a prickling sensation of self-consciousness with such a look pinned on you.

“And with the glory of Strife and blood intertwined in allegiance with Castrum Kremnos, I, Mydeimos the succeeding prince of my city shall share the same devotion of valorous death before glorious return…” he rasps, then he downs the remainder within the chalice, his golden eyes still on you.

You cannot help yourself but settle your gaze on his exposed collarbones, laddering your way up the column of his neck where you watch the way his adam’s apple bobs at the swallow of the juice, a few clumsy droplets run down his jaw before he retreats and wipes it with the back of his hand.

The bells sound once, then twice at the successful union but your mind is a flurry of thoughts, though all of them stop at one concluding statement, you desperately need to get out of the banquet hall.

So when you’re finally released from your duties, instead of lingering and talking with the folks you spin around towards the exit. Nobody seemed to bat an eyelash at your hasty departure, nor was there anyone in the hallway outside which allowed you to break into a sprint—you don’t know where you’re going, quite frankly the layout of the city is still foreign to you, but you needed to get out of there.

At the fall of your impatient footsteps, you barely hear another set chasing after you.

Only until you feel larger hands gripping your waist do you stop.

“Where do you think you’re running off to?” You don’t need to turn to know who was speaking, the plates of his half-naked front are pressed hard against your back, it acted like a furnace almost.

“Unhand me.” You try to sound casual but it ends up in a bite. “This instant, Mydeimos—“

“And what?” He challenges back. “Let you run around like a headless goose until one of the counselors finds you? Do you wish for trouble that much?”

Instead of answering, you try to pry his hands around your waist. Your attempts are obviously futile however you are wracked with frustrations, fury and confusion. Your actions only fueled the prince’s impatience.

“Quit squirming—“

“Then let me go!” You try to glare at him. “I wish to be anywhere but in your arms right now—“

That must’ve struck a nerve.

Mydeimos’ grip on you only tightened, he pulls you towards an empty corner between the heavy flaps of curtains and presses you against the wall. His hand grips your jaw—but despite such a harsh action his hold on you remains feather-light, gentle.

His face draws close to your own, until you can feel his raspy voice on your cheek. At this distance, you can smell his scent of bonfire, tender smoke and something sweet, like pomegranates, he smelled awfully fruity.

“Says the one that wishes to marry me, isn’t that what you confessed to me months before?”

The jab brings heat to your cheeks, you lift your hand with the intent to slap him but Mydeimos captures your wrist before your palm could collide with his cheek. His thumb runs up from your wrist to your palm, intertwining your fingers together and laying it on the wall beside your head, his bangs brush your forehead, face so, so close that if you tilted your head your lips would be brushing his own,

“You wanted to elope with me.” Mydei tells you. “Have you forgotten? Or do you wish for me to tell you the exact words you told me that day.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, this was before my city was attacked by your warriors!”

The tension hangs gauche, the silence between the two of you almost unbearable. The man before you sighs heavily, “There are a handful of things that are at my disposal, even with the title of prince—the issues of prophecies is something I cannot control.” Mydei soothes a thumb over the pulse in your wrists.

“You of all people are aware of this fact.” he pauses. “Or maybe you weren’t, after all the sea-side states are nonbelievers, you and your people don’t revere the Titans, only the arithmetics and logarithms of the world.”

“You're right, I wasn’t.” You snap. “I did not know Castrum Kremnos was prophesied to destroy my home, Mydeimos. If I had known, I wouldn’t have uttered such preposterous words to you, I was made out to be an ignorant fool because of it.”

Mydeimos’ whole demeanor takes a polar shift, you’re unsure why those eyes had melted like butter, was it your shaky voice, the pitiful wallow in your tone? Or did he truly feel an ounce of empathy for your situation?

“You're not an ignorant fool.” He lets go of your wrist but his body remains pressed up against your own, despite the position his body heat grounded you, especially with his follow up of, “to me, you’re the wisest person I know. A leader with a heart of gold, I apologize for causing you so much agony and for being unable to aid you when you need it most.”

He takes your hand, smearing his lips against your knuckles. “I wish to make amends with you but if you hold such vengeance in your heart—” he tugs your wrist, digging your fingers to his chest just above his heart. “You can scratch my heart out and kill me, stab me in the back for as long as you want if it means your desires would be satiated, then so be it.“

“…Mydeimos.” To say you were shocked was an understatement.

He softly bumps his forehead with your own. “Do you hate me, kardia mou?”

This was the very reason why you fell for him, the prince from the city of warriors. Despite the harshness of his textures and tones, when it came to you, he was honest and open. Those universal stone-cold expressions fissure as soon as he sees a glimpse of you in the distance. He spoke in uncharacteristic gentleness and his fleeting skinships sent butterflies within your chest. You cannot be angry with him, much less hate when he acts like this.

You feel him interlace your fingers, weaving his own with yours. Then he leans down once again, pressing his lips against the corner of your mouth, the intent of apology willing to spill from the nonexistent gaps between the two of you. “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes turn glassy. Maybe it was due to Mydeimos’ comfort that every drowning pressure that you’ve bottled up comes cracking at the seams.

A sob spills between your lips.

“I don’t hate you, Mydei.” Your voice trembles when he tips your chin towards him, brushing his thumbs over the tear staining down your cheeks. “Truthfully, it is I that I loathe the most, not you—never you.”

“So please, never say that I find thrill in killing you.”

Mydei’s hand comes tangling through your tendrils, you weep on his collarbones, his woody scent engulfing you in comfort.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “I’ll never speak of such a thing to you, so cease your cryings, my love.”

Hostess| Kyoya Ootori x reader

Part six -  The Perfect Boyfriend List

Pairing : Kyoya Ootori x reader

General rating : Fluff, enemies to love vibes

Word count : 2k+

Summary: As only heir to your family you are bound to an arranged marriage with the third son of the powerful house Ootori. His cold behavior is only a mask for you to uncover when you stumble into music room number three.

A/N: I’m so sorry for the long wait and the short part. I have been through a lot these past few months especially with the quarter life crisis. I hope you’ve been all doing great. I promise that the wait will be worth it for the next few parts coming up (spoiler alert: some angst and some sprinkle of spice)

Keep reading

✦◦ attention

summary. once wanderer ignores you, and you won't even look at him?

notes. wanderer x gn!reader / fluff / referred to as "kuni."

author's thoughts. this is my first time posting on tumblr! here's a nice and short fic to begin this blog.

You huffed as you walked away from the Wanderer, your back facing him. He sighed in irritation before grumbling something under his breath. He was quick to follow you.

“Quit it, will you?” He said as he treaded your heels. You were walking fast. Not that it bothered your boyfriend. As much as you hated to admit it, he was faster than you. And if he truly desired it, he could simply fly ahead of you. But right now Kuni simply gave pursuit, attempting to get your attention.

“C’mon, talk to me. Stop ignoring me,” He continued protesting. You didn’t even bother turning around, looking at him or acknowledging him. Your pace was quick, your steps nimble and light footed as you easily traversed the forestry terrain.

One time. One time Wanderer ignores you, and this is what he gets? One time he turned away from you to converse with the traveller and you refuse to even look at him? 

You had a nonchalant expression on your face. You’d sometimes wave your hand dismissively as if swatting away an annoying mosquito. In your head though, you were amused by this situation. See how Kuni likes to be treated this way, hm?

Admittedly, this was pissing off your boyfriend. His patience was not what he was known for, and he looked very much close to snapping. 

Suddenly you felt a firm grip on your wrist. You let out a soft yelp as you were spun around, now forced to face your dear beloved. His gaze stared down at you, and his presence was domineering. 

“Talk to me,” He nearly snarled. You swallowed thickly. The Wanderer was stubborn, but so were you. You scoffed, saying absolutely nothing, turning your head away. 

And yet, even that option was thrown out the window. Kuni’s fingers curled around your chin, tilting your head back up to him. His stare piercing into your soul. His lips in a taut line.

“...Pay attention to me,” He said, his voice soft and low. Under the dappled light of the trees, you could see his face dusted a faint pink hue.

You arched a brow, amused at his words. Still no words escaped you, wanting to see how this entertaining event could now turn. 

The Wanderer muttered curses before interlocking his fingers with yours. He pulled you closer by your waist, your bodies pressing against one another. He brought your hand up to his mouth. Kuni’s lips parted, a puff of warmth hitting your skin. He pressed a kiss flush against the back of your palm. 

Kuni’s lips stayed glued onto your hand for a second longer before pulling away.

“There.” He let go of your hand, crossing his arms. “Is that enough for your whiny self to talk to me now?”

You smiled, cheeky and mischievous, before planting a kiss on the Wanderer’s cheek. 

“I’ll think about it,” You mused.

Kuni rolled his eyes, his fingers finding yours as he dragged you along with him, the tips of his ears red.

dividers by: @cafekitsune

Hide the Scissors- S. JY

✄ Jake X Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Your boyfriend is a sucker for compliments, which you take for advantage.

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: pussy muncher Jake, reader is wearing a skirt, reader calls him Jake and Jae.

Smut warnings: Oral(f), dry humping, nasty make out sesh, Jake is pussy drunk, hair pulling, no specific dom/sub, I apologize for anything I forgot.

A/N: I’ve had this started since the beginning of the week when he did this live,, I just took long to post it. Enjoy!

This is fiction and the scenarios are completely fake and from my brain, none of the characters are like this in real life, MDNI!

“I know you like it long, babe, but it’s poking me in the eyes. You have to cut it for me.”

Your heart feels as if it’s been stabbed and shattered as your boyfriend sits with his back to your stomach, locking eyes with you through the bathroom mirror while he sits on a stool. You drape a towel over his shoulders with a pout on your lips, obviously unhappy with the idea of cutting his hair. “You’re breaking my heart, Jae.”

He only laughs at your dramatic attempts to change his mind. Realizing you have failed, you give in and finally open the bathroom cabinet to grab the styling scissors with a deep exhaled sigh. “I’m just saying, you look so good with longer hair.” You notice Jake pause for a moment as a light blush makes its way to his cheeks while the tips of his ears burn red.

“You think so?” His eyes meet yours in the mirror and you flash him a sweet smile. “Of course, handsome.” You don’t break eye contact as you lean down to kiss the spot right under his ear, trailing more kisses down the expanse of his neck. “You look so sexy.” You whisper in his ear and watch how he immediately stiffens.

“Love how it suits your features so well.” He blushes deeper at this compliment. “Love the way it shapes your face.” You peck him on his cheek. “Love the way it’s so full and fluffy.” You run a hand through the long hair on the back of his head. “But you know what I love about it the most?” You meet his gaze in the mirror again and he lets out a hum in response.

“Love the way you whine when I pull on it.” With that, your grip on his hair pulls his head to fall back, with him looking up at you for a second before you’re leaning down to kiss him. He always expresses his love for kissing upside down, his inner fanboy showing as he would rant about it reminding him of Spider-Man.

You tug at his hair harder and his lips fall open as he whines into your own. You take this chance to slip your tongue into his mouth and he eagerly reciprocates the action. He loves how the odd angle lets him feel the way the mix of saliva easily slides down his throat as the kiss grows sloppier. You pull back from his lips with an obnoxious smack and smile at the way his eyes are already low and dazed.

He swallows harshly as he lets his gaze fall back to your mouth. You can’t help but peck his pillowy lips again. “Fine.” He whispers almost shyly. “Fine?” You repeat with a sly smile. “Yeah…fine. You don’t have to cut my hair.” He blinks at you with big puppy eyes, almost begging for your reaction.

“Why the sudden change of heart, baby?” You quirk a brow in question as he tugs the towel off of his shoulders and stands to his feet, turning to face you. “I like when you pull on it too.” He grabs your waist and harshly presses his lips against yours again, both of his hands sliding down to grab handfuls of your butt.

You gasp when he squeezes harshly, and he slips his tongue into your mouth the way you had done it earlier. He kneads the fat of your butt, groping and massaging anything he could fit into his hands. You instinctively push yourself further into him and you don’t miss the way he’s rock hard against you.

“Jump.” He commands against your parted lips, tapping the back of your thighs. You hop into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck to play with his hair. He turns around again, this time placing you onto the large bathroom sink with your back pressed against the mirror.

You feel him tug your lower half towards himself, standing between your open legs. He leans back down to kiss you again, this time with one hand around the back of your neck and the other softly rubbing your thigh. “Want you to show me how much you love my hair.” He grinds himself into your core and grunts into your neck after he speaks, then bites his bottom lip harshly to keep himself from whining into your ear.

The feeling of his hot break against your neck has you pulling him closer by the hips, but he’s quick to pull your hands away. He takes them both in one of his larger hands, pinning them to the mirror above your head. His other hand is pushing your skirt further up your waist and he smiles at the wet spot on your panties.

You grind against nothing, pushing your hips forward with a whine when he takes too long staring between your legs. “God, you’re so fucking needy.” He lightly slaps your core, smiling at the wet sound that follows. “You’re one to talk.” You spit out, almost annoyed that he’s taking so long to touch you.

He doesn’t find any purpose in arguing back, instead being proud of not only himself but of you also. “Of course.” He lowers himself to have his salivating mouth just above where you need him. “Who wouldn’t be needy for this cunt.” He almost cuts himself off, too eager to taste you as he licks you over your panties, tongue starting at your entrance but stopping just before your clit.

You whine and push your hips forward again, this time yelping as he suddenly attaches his lips to your soaking underwear, sucking your slick out of the wet fabric. “Please, Jake. I need more.” Your hands are still being painfully restricted against the mirror, Jake’s own hand not budging no matter how much yours thrash in his hold.

He finally rips your panties off and you gasp at the sound of them tearing. “Jake!” You look at him with wide eyes and he grabs your cheeks, squeezing them so your lips become pouty. “Do you want it or not?” He’s speaking close enough to you that you feel his hot breath on your inner thighs, but not close enough for it to please you. “Yes! Yes, stop being a brat.” You nod your head aggressively, pushing your hips against his face again.

Your insult ignites something inside of him, and he’s suddenly leaning back down to harshly suck on your clit. “A-ah!” You yelp in surprise, thrashing your arms against the mirror in frustration. He finally lets go of your hands, leading them to his hair as he’s pulling off of your clit to speak in your ear.

“Show me how much you like my hair, baby.” He dives into your core again, slurping loudly at the dripping arousal. You throw your head back against the mirror in a loud moan, harshly gripping at Jake’s hair which elicits a whine escape his throat. He looks up at you with low, fucked out eyes and he moans as if he’s the one being pleasured.

His tongue laps at your entrance a few times before licking a long stripe up your slit, taking your clit between his lips and sucking gently, unlike the first time. “Fuck, Jae. T-tongue.” Without hesitating, he sticks his tongue out at your stuttered command and you grab handfuls of his thick hair, keeping his head stable as you grind yourself onto his wet muscle.

The bathroom walls send echos of each moan, slurp, and whine the both of you let out, and you wondered if you were loud enough for the neighbors to hear. You want the neighbors to hear, and you want them to know who you’re whining and crying for, loving the idea of showing off how good your boyfriend treats you.

“Baby-baby, holy shit.” You’re borderline screaming at this point as Jake watches you with big, glossy puppy eyes, and the sight of him is enough to bring you to your orgasm. “Fuckfuckfuck, Jake!” You inhale deeply before letting out the most loud and obnoxious pornographic-sounding moan while your orgasm sends tingles throughout your whole body, strongly throbbing in your core.

You keep a tight grip on your boyfriend’s hair, pulling it harshly as you continue to rock your hips against his tongue, and he whimpers at the feeling of you continuing to use him for your own pleasure. He loves letting you take control, like you’re almost ignoring the fact that he’s another human being but only using him as a toy to get yourself off with.

His hair is finally released from your fingers when they come to support you on the sides of your body, keeping your trembling body upright on the bathroom sink. He goes back to standing normal for a second, then leans forward to kiss you with his mouth covered in your juices. He places one hand over yours on the counter, stroking your skin as a sign of comfort, while the other hand holds your face and pulls your forehead to touch his.

“God, look at you.” He softly nudges your face to turn around and take a look at yourself in the mirror behind you. Your eyes are hazy and your hair is slightly tangled in the back, and you hadn’t even realized you were drooling until you seen the streak from your lip sliding down your chin. Your eyes travel to look at Jake, heart melting when you see just how adorable he appears. “God, look at you, Jae.”

The whole lower half of his face, including his cheeks, are covered in arousal, shining especially bright on the tip of his prominent nose. His cheeks and nose are also flushed with a deep blush, maybe from the sexual encounter, maybe from his lack of breathing during said encounter. His own hair is messier than yours, with his bangs falling Infront of his eyes, frizzy strands standing up everywhere, and the long hairs in the back look as if he woke up from a nap or was electrocuted.

“Holy-“ Jake cuts himself off as he starts giggling cutely, leaning against the counter and trying his best to fix his appearance. You join in on giggling with him and fixing yourself up, admiring the way he switches from a pussy-starved fiend to a sweet mess of toothy smiles and giggles. Your boyfriend may be secretly desperate for a mouth full of woman, but that’s just how you like it. He licks his palm and tries his best to slick down his disheveled hair, but your fingers had done too much damage and he now resembles a raccoon that had been struck by lightning.

“Guess you really do love my hair, huh?”

If the sky is pink and white 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧. 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼 If the ground is black and yellow

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."

to chase a dream | zhang hao ˚₊‧⁺˖

all your life, you and zhang hao have been chasing each other. you wonder here, if this is where your symphony ends.

TAGS: musician!au, gn!reader, rivals to lovers, angst with happy ending, suggestive!makeout

A/N: something about zhang hao called for dramatics so here i am (≧∇≦)ﾉ ! self-indulgent as usual :)

WORDS: ~1450, EXTRA: music info and terms here !!

"That was wonderful playing earlier."

History doesn't even begin to describe what you have between you two.

Your friends could joke that there would be enough to write an opera. Star crossed and all. All about the virtuosos of violin and piano. Of Zhang Hao and you.

You want to hark it back to those fitful days in grade school. Full days of comparing sheet music, trying to one-up each other about the difficulty. Hao, and his too big violin case and you, trouncing him every talent show because his hands hadn't quite yet grown out of their stubbiness. The satisfaction in remembering those big whiny tears brings warmth to your soul.

Then, there came high school.

Oh, you loathe it; he doesn't. Not when his hands became a study in lines and grace. Envy would eat you alive if you had any less pride. But you weren't so above yourself to not look at him. Hard to not notice when he grows a head taller and of course, starts topping the local competitions only to shove it under your face.

Your parents loved it. Gave a reason to push you further and deeper into competitions and over the top galas. To push your fire against someone who was all finely diced ice. There was nothing you liked less when you wanted to live for the glory of the crowd, not medals and flowers.

Eyes followed you everywhere when he was in the picture. And yours always found his.

"Here to mock me?" you ask.

The laugh you draw is enchanting. "Never." And it's so sincere you might just believe it. "Just here to say my farewells."

The Winter Gala spins behind both of you: through a door, down some ornate stairs and into a pit of some thoroughly drunk musicians. From the balcony, only the trickles of laughter and music eke out the door. But you would hardly focus on that, not when Hao stands very plainly in front of you.

"Already? it's only an hour into reception." You twirl the champagne in your hand with consideration before you gesture him to come to where you lean on the balcony rail. "Thought you would stay to kiss ass with some of the others."

"Not this time. No, I mean..." The howl of the wind carries his unease. Traffic horns and gala laughter do nothing to smother whatever he tries to hide in his tone. You know him too well.

There's more than history between you two.

But whatever he says next has you rethinking everything. "I'm leaving, leaving. I won't be back in the country for a while so, here I am."

There's a moment where you think he's entirely pulling your leg. Pulling you along to another little joke at your expense. But you've known him your entire life at this point, and you’ve been through too much to realize that he’s not joking.

“… Am I the first to know?”

You count the beats and steady your breath. Years of this, all for what?

“Only Minghao-Ge and Junhui-Ge, and now you. But knowing them, they’ll be drunk enough tonight to let it slip,” he explains in this awfully fond tone. “Mark Lee from the LSO watched me perform at the showcase in July and scouted for me. I think he got on Junhui-Ge’s nerves with how much he emailed him.”

Medals and flowers. Smiles and bows. The curtain draws, where are you now?

"Congrats," you say after a second – watching nothing but your past fly by you. Despite the ache, you raise your glass. "Cheers," you smile and take a sip. Raising it into the moonlight and offering the glass to Hao for his own toast but he just shakes his head.

You pout. "Don’t like it?”

Instead, he takes the glass from you and settles it onto the edge. Pink dusts his cheeks as watches you from the corner of your eye. “Want to remember this.”

Heat flares to your cheeks at the weight of Hao’s words. A night to remember is one way to put it.

"So, when are you off to London?"

"This Monday."

You blink. "... That's fast."

"Why? You think you'll miss me?" and it's said with that smile of his. Infuriating and secret, so many layers of discourse that haunt you – it’s a memory that you'll take to the grave.

"Of course, it's you," you mutter, disgustingly honest with yourself. "It'll just be... quiet, without your excuse of music causing a riot." Honestly, you can barely hear Hao's chuckle when you're too stuck in your head to mind the charm in it.

You want to edge back into your comfort zone of easy quips, nothing serious but scathing wit. But nothing you say lights the fight that used to start so easy back when you two were younger. When your worries were small like the cars below.

A full look at his face is all you want to chance a glance for. What would you see? Remorse? Eagerness? Disappointment? You could read him like a book with a single glance, what’s stopping you now?

"What about you? are you going to stay in Singapore? I thought you'd be the one to chase excitement."

"I’ll chase whatever my parents dangle in front of me.” And the laugh he breathes is empty because you both know it’s bitter but true. Hao’s stood aside long enough to understand. So, when he sidles closer next to you it warms you more than they ever did. "Yixing-Ge told me he's also planning to leave for Boston, promised me that I'll get his seat when it happens."

"If it happens,” he teases.

"It’ll happen."

You nearly jump when you feel it. Hao’s warm hand on top of yours. It’s spindly and calloused, worn out in the way a weathered musician’s should be. It’s all you need to guide you back to where you are.

"I know you'll make it. Just make sure it's something you want.” Hao’s breath is right next to your ear. Clear as day and easy as a song. It’s so simple to say: take what you want.  

Blood in your ears, chest heaving, nothing to catch you when you fall but the discordant crash of keys.

It sounds like a melody.

"It's never going to be something I want."

"Then, what do you want?"

You.

Instead, you turn to face Zhang Hao. A challenge of a smile on your lips because you know where this ends.

To face the music, the crowd, the eyes that watch.

"What's it like? to chase a dream?" you ask.

Brutal, visceral, freeing. An infinite number of interpretations for one word.

The stage becomes your world, and the spotlight burns you alive. Pressure flays your skin even as your fingers glide across smooth keys and you hush your heaving breath. Running to your last page, heart in your hands, smearing red across white. There's no audience when you dream; you are your own critic, you are your own end, but your destiny is not you.

To chase a dream is to become raw.

"Like chasing you."

You hum low and satisfied. Carding a hand through Hao’s hair, you guide him down.

Kissing Zhang Hao feels like being on stage all over again. Being set on fire, skin flaying, blood rushing. It’s everything he isn’t, but everything you are.

You swallow his groan, biting across his lips as your hands trail down him. Everywhere you've wanted to touch feels unbearable. You want to chase this feeling: Hao's hands on your hips and cradling your jaw. Trailing his red ears and holding around his throat; it's little fires everywhere.

Distance doesn’t exist as you push into each other. Hao has you against the rail, hands cradling you like you’re his own instrument. Playing you to pluck you into satisfaction.

Years of us, made for this final movement.

This ache and greed that makes musicians like you two come alive. You know Hao as your years of black and white keys that haunt your dreams and make your reality. There isn’t a crevice in his mind you haven’t touched or a melody that he’s played where he never thought of you.

You hold Hao by the chin, determination set into your eyes and a chord of steel in your tone. "There better be a future for us – I’m not having you leave me here in your past.”

"Anything," he breathes against you. More than history. More than a future. Chasing your dream. "Anything for you."

thanks so much for reading !! this was a tough one but i'm glad i wrote it ! if you enjoyed please like or reblog :D ⭒ masterlist

12:07am — sano manjiro

“(y/n), truth or dare.” baji smirked as the bottle pointed to you. you rolled your eyes at the sinister look baji was giving you before nodding. “truth.” 

“pussy.” “just ask the question.” baji hummed in thought before letting out a wolfish grin. 

“do you like someone right now? like a crush.” you weren’t fazed, you knew that having baji as a best friend would lead to being asked this question. baji’s always been invasive with asking and you never once minded. but now that said person you liked was in the vicinity, you couldn’t help but look away and nod. 

“eh?! who?” chifuyu couldn’t help but prod for details. “a friend.” you respond curtly, not knowing that mikey’s big black eyes were staring right through you, awaiting for your answer. 

“a friend?!” chifuyu parroted. you nod once, not indulging more into the conversation, but toman wasn’t done yet. 

“who?” you roll your eyes “if you want to know, you have to wait for the bottle to point to me again.” you say as you reach for the bottle, giving it a spin. 

you hear the groans of the group reverberate in the room, but stop once the bottle lands on poor takemichi who hesitantly chose dare. 

the dare he had to do was promised to never be retold.

all through the night, the bottle never landed on you once more, keeping your secret crush intact and their curiosities peaked. 

“why do you need to talk to me, baji?” you asked as baji pulls you over to the side, baji looked at you a bit worriedly before he heaves out a sigh. 

“(y/n)...” “what?” you were so confused at this point. you had no idea what baji was thinking nor do you have any idea what he wanted to talk about. 

“about this… friend that you like.” you tilt your head to the side, still confused as you gestured for him to keep going. 

“are you sure you’d want to tell him how you feel?” “what?” 

“don’t make me say it.” “keisuke, i am genuinely really confused right now. just tell me.”

“i don’t like you that way.”

“huh?” 

baji sighs out, as if he were explaining to a child. “look… i know we’re close, and that we’re considered best friends but you need to realize that i only see you as that. nothing more, nothing less.” “kei–” “like, bro, i know i’m attractive. but i can’t recipro–” “keisuke–” “–cate your feelings, it wouldn’t be fair…” “baji, that’s no–” “look, i know you can find someone else, someone actually deserving of your love, but that’s just not me… so i’m so sor–” you cut him off with a slap to his cheek. 

he looked at you, scandalized, as if you murdered his first born. he looked at you as if he were asking what the fuck was that? and you raised a brow at him. 

“and where did you even get the disgusting rumor that i’m in love with you?”

“you’re not?” “gross.” “hey!” baji cleared his throat. “but didn’t you say that you liked a friend?” 

“keisuke… you’re not the only friend i have.” you deadpanned, internally scoffing at the audacity he had. 

“if it isn’t me, then who?” “none of your business.” 

“(y/n), you don’t need to hide what you feel, but just know i can’t return those feelings. you don’t need to lie but i think it would be better for me to tell you strai–” “keisuke, shut the fuck up.” 

you rubbed your temples, feeling a headache coming up at the baseless confidence that was budding in your best friend. 

“i like mikey. okay? now stop it with the assumptions, you’re giving me the shivers.” “mikey?!” baji’s jaw dropped, “as in, sano manjiro? the leader of toman? my childhood best friend? that mikey?!” you roll your eyes at his dramatics before nodding and vocalizing an exasperated yes. 

“now will you shut the fuck up and stop?” baji nods, before a terrifying smirk enters his features, before you could even question him about it, he spoke in a loud voice, obviously talking to someone besides you. 

“aww. i wanted to keep up the charade longer, but i guess there’s no point in overthinking.” you were about to call him crazy. 

“i told you she likes you back, mikey.” 

your eyes widened as you fling your head back, jaw dropping at the sight of the fearsome toman leader with red cheeks adorning his normally soft features.  

“wha– how– keisuke–!” a firm pat on your shoulder was placed before baji walked away, nudging mikey on the side and slapping the back of his head, hearing him bid the leader good luck before leaving. 

the silence was suffocating. it would be so laughable that the usually loud sano manjiro was reduced to a quiet, blushing, idiot. 

“so–” you cursed at the crack in your voice. “uh…”

“you like me, huh?” you gulped, feeling your face burn, his lips twitch into a smile as he realizes that your silence means yes. and all the blonde wants to do is kiss you silly. but he needed to milk this out. 

it wasn’t everyday that the sano manjiro has his feelings reciprocated, but what would he know? he’s only had his eyes set on you from the very beginning.

“hm? why can’t you answer me, (n/n)-chin.” you didn’t even realize that mikey was already right in front of you, a smirk on his face as his fingers were under your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

“ne, (n/n)-chin, do you like me?” you remained mute, willing your racing heart to calm down. but knowing that you were not about to let yourself be embarrassed by his teasing, you took a step forward, catching him off guard. 

“eh? but what about you, i did hear baji saying that you liked me back.” you gave him a sickly sweet smile. 

at this point, it was a battle of who would cave in first. you knew that you would win, because if there was anything to know about mikey, is that he stakes his claim the first opportunity given. 

“i do.” he gives no hesitation as he pulls you closer, foreheads touching as he whispers out, smile still on his face now. 

“you’re mine now. (y/n).” as he dips you down and presses a peck on your pouty lips. 

you pull away, as if he had cooties before pushing him away. mikey was hurt, but before he could express it, you pushed him on the wall behind him, a smile on your face. 

“you’ve got it all wrong, sano manjiro.” you purred sweetly, hands cupping his cheeks before you placed a deep peck on his lips, smirking at the way he chased after your lips after you pull away. 

“you’re mine now, manjiro.” you say before he pulls you back to his lips, twin smiles on your faces as you pull him closer. 

sano manjiro was undefeated, everyone knows that. he’s the boss. he’s always on top, but damn, he doesn’t mind being under your control.   

notes: wow i can't believe i managed to write something despite my schedule but whEW hi mikey *tucks hair behind ears* i think mikey grew on me a bit too late but all of you better expect me to be writing for him often bc this man!! won't!! get!! out!! of!! my!! head!!