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portaltothevoid · 5 months

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you’re losing me part x — ex!terzo x reader

ao3 link | warnings: angst, tears, mentions of bruises, emotional whiplash, self-translated italian, comfort?, fluff??, my beta reader almost shed actual tears reading this

word count: 7.4k

taglist: @beelzebzb @bitchywitchygardener @calitmediondell @copias-juicebox @copiasprincipessa @da-rulah @deetz-ghuleh @fishwithtitz @ghostfangirlsweden @ivycasket @justa19 @ladyrevealedofcloak @lurancyvenom @sodoswitchimage @water-ghoulette @zombiesnips-blog

a/n: divider by @gothdaddyissues! opted to switch the banner for a mood board this time around… i’m proud of this chapter and how it turned out, so hope you all enjoy the pain and suffering that is this story!

The Satanic Church's current mouthpiece hissed as the fresh ice pack made contact with the bridge of his nose. The coldness, which stung at first, soon became a relief, soothing his red hot bruises. No amount of skull paint could hide the apparent damage that served as a constant reminder of his most recent failure (as if he needed one). “Will that glamor also hide the pain?” Terzo groaned as he sunk back into his arm chair.

A light laugh came from the adjacent kitchen. “No, Papa, I’m afraid it won’t,” said the nurse grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle at the island counter. “Dare I ask what happened? Did someone’s significant other not understand what ‘tending to the flock’ can mean?”

He flipped off the nurse with his free hand. “Fuck off and, no. I just finally got what I deserved.”

The grinding of herbs stopped. “Don’t tell me it was–”

“Sì. She did this to me.”

“How?!”

“Questo non è importante,” he grumbled with a cavalier wave. “It seems I can’t keep my comments to myself. Maybe she is right about me not being able to keep promises…”

“What do you mean?” she asked, resuming her work.

“I tell her I want to– I’m going to change, but then I can never stop myself from saying shit that I know will piss her off.”

A tea kettle started to whistle. The nurse quickly took it off the stove, then poured the near boiling water into a mug. The clinking sound from her stirring filled the vacuum of silence. “The only way to stop yourself from that is to figure out why you keep twisting the knife,” she mused. “What’s the context of what you said?”

He let out a long breath. “I might have, eh… compared myself to her current lover…”

“So it’s jealousy. You’re hurting and so you want her to hurt too.”

“Gelosia… pfft,” he scoffed. “Certo (of course).”

Another silence settled over the room as the nurse finished up with the tincture she was making. After she poured the ground up herbs into a vial of oil and gave it a shake, she turned her attention back to the steeping tea. When the teabag was discarded, she made her way over to Terzo. “Here, you need to drink this. All of it,” she stressed. He grimaced at her, taking it from her hand, sipping it.

“Ugh, cos’è questa merda (what is this shit)?!”

“That shit is to help with the swelling and to make sure this tincture will work in Mexico,” she said as she sat on the couch adjacent to him. “Which you need to take right away in the morning, a few hours before the show, and then right before you go on stage. It’s the only way it’s going to work, because… Papa, with all due respect, you look rough.”

“I don’t want to keep hurting her. I don’t want her to hurt…” he added softly, his voice distant, as he kept cringing with every sip of the tea.

“So let her go.” He froze as he blinked at her, his expression blank. “Admit you don’t have control over the situation anymore, admit the part you’ve played in the situation, and let her go.”

“Let her go?” he repeated.

“Yes. Give her space. She needs it. You need it. If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back around, or you’ll eventually move on.”

He shook his head, his hair falling into his eyes slightly. “No. There’s no moving on from what we had.” He took another sip of the tea, his frown deepened dramatically.

“Well, tell me this, then. Do you want to change for the better for her or for yourself?”

“For her,” he replied almost instantly.

The nurse nodded slowly. “And let’s say she stays with the Cardinal. What good is that going to do you?” His brows furrowed as he pondered her question. “I can tell you now, it’s only gonna backfire on you in the end if that’s your reasoning. You have to want to do it for yourself, because you want to be a better person, period.”

He downed the last of the tea, slamming the cup down like he’d won a chugging contest. “Ugh. I say all of this, but I don’t think I could change if I even wanted to,” he laughed dryly. “I’m too bitter and too spiteful now.”

“Well, with that attitude, no, you certainly won’t change at all. Papa, it’s as easy as knowing you’re about to talk shit, and you choose to keep your mouth shut. I’ve known you long enough that you’re well aware of the times you’re straight up being an asshole.”

“For the love of Lucifer, can someone be gentle with me tonight?” he groaned rhetorically.

The nurse laughed. “You know that’s not my style. Sugarcoating anything just isn’t in my nature.”

“Definitely isn’t in your tea, either.” He couldn’t help cracking a small smile at that.

“Look, for what it’s worth, I can already see a difference in you tonight.” His only response was an inquisitive raise of his eyebrow. “I’ve been here for almost an hour and not once have you even so much as hit on me or flirted with me. You’ve kept your hands to yourself, haven’t made any innuendos, or even backhandedly ask me to sleep with you again. That alone shows me that one, you know you royally fucked up, two, you really are in love with her, and three, which is the most important, you have changed.”

He let her words sink in for a moment. You were the only thing he could think about. Choosing to ignore the fact it took an almost near death experience at your hands to finally get his priorities straight, he knew his nurse was right. If this was just a small step, it was still a step forward.

But he had to let you go. Even if he felt like he was nothing at all without you, if he truly loved you, he didn’t have a choice. The damage he caused, the trust he destroyed, the hurt he bestowed… all were things he couldn’t take back, things that changed you irrevocably. In this moment, he vowed to himself that he would no longer be the cause of your pain if he could avoid it. With all that being said, the aching from the hole in his chest was finally something he couldn’t ignore. This time, he didn’t want to. He wanted to feel this pain; he wanted to sit there in his hurt.

Eventually he pulled his forlorn gaze to meet the nurse’s. He thanked her wordlessly with a sad smile as he leaned forward to give her hand a gentle squeeze. Taking a deep, contemplative breath as he sat back into this chair again, he said regretfully, “It’s not going to matter in the end. I know she will never choose me.”

“You’re what?” you asked incredulously, eyes darting back and forth between the ostensible mother and son.

Copia leaned back against the wall, putting his weight on his hands as he leaned forward slightly. He felt like his legs would give out underneath him at any moment.

Sister Imperator breathed deeply both in preparation to defend herself and in trepidation. “I was a fool in love when I was younger. One of the first times I saw him perform, the way he eyed the girls in the crowd, kissed them…” Her lip curled into a brief snarl at the memory before she continued. “I might as well have meant nothing to him. I saw how he was with his other sons – he wasn’t. I was a fool in thinking I could change him– change Nihil.”

You waited a moment, staring at Copia, waiting for him to say something, say anything, but he just stood there like a deer in headlights. “This isn’t about Nihil’s absentee parenting, it’s about yours! We fucking know what a piece of shit Nihil is– was– ugh! Just because you kept an eye on him all these goddamn years doesn’t mean you didn’t fucking abandon him!” The heat was rising up in your body, your pulse quickened rapidly, as did your breathing. Clenching your fists tight enough to leave little half moon marks in your palm was all you could do to retain any semblance of calm.

“I did what I had to do to protect this Ministry!” she snapped.

“Oh,” you laughed sarcastically as you stood, shaking your head. “Sure, play the messiah card.” Sister Imperator’s eyes shone with a fury of her own. “Do you even know half of what he went through? Of what he goes through here?!”

“There will be a day when you have to make a sacrifice for the greater good of His flock. Mark my words, child,” she seethed as she stood up.

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t see how giving up your own child, letting others raise him, while you watch from afar the whole time benefited the flock,” you retorted as you walked right up to her.

“This whole institution would have crumbled under Nihil. If I didn’t do what I did, none of us would be standing where we are today and don’t you dare,” she seethed, leaning forward and pointing her finger at you, “think for a second that I’ve been content with any of this.”

The way her demeanor froze into an ice cold stare made your open mouth clamp shut. You squinted your eyes as your brow creased further in a mixture of shock and anger at a loss for words over this whole revelation. Your heart ached for Copia. You knew how important it is for him to have some alikeness to a familial connection, to feeling like he belonged somewhere, to something. And upon this realization, you could feel yourself twisting the knife in your own heart from what you had just confessed to him, from how deeply you knew you had hurt him; however, the time to dwell on that was nigh.

Even though Copia’s limbic system had been hit with a force akin to something of an eighteen wheeler, he couldn’t help one corner of his mouth from turning upwards just slightly. “They always wondered why I was your favorite, eheh,” he muttered.

Sister Imperator’s eyes went right to him as soon as she heard his voice and immediately, her face softened slightly.

“But why?” you asked breathlessly, almost seeming desperate for an answer.

“Because Nihil was reckless and negligent. If I stayed in the background, I would be able to puppet him and clean up his messes… I could grow and keep whatever semblance of power we gained as an institution. To ensure our success, I made a pact with King Belial – I had to see it through.” Her eyes grew distant for a brief moment, lost in her memories before she pushed them aside. “No one knows the severity of that pact. I’ve never divulged all of the details of it before – to anyone. That was all even before Nihil and I…” she inhaled a ragged breath, “before any ‘feelings’ became involved. I let those feelings come between me and the pact when I became pregnant and Nihil couldn’t turn down any attention given to him. I’d gotten so wrapped up and focused on that, I strayed from the mission I had originally set out on. I ignored King Belial and many of the other Infernals who were reaching out to me. So I had to pay the price. I had to make a choice – motherhood or growing our flock.” Her sigh that followed held the weight of decades of secrecy and regret.

“So I went to the Ministry in Rome, had Copia, left him in the care of the Sisters there, and came back fully prepared to right the wrongs Nihil made while I was absent. Had we gone public, had everyone known that Copia was my son with the influence I had even then, it would have changed the course of everything.” She pursed her lips as she took a moment to ponder her next words.

“Our Papa has always descended from the papa before him. Sometimes the mother was his Prime Mover, sometimes it was just a girl who got lucky…” She shrugged with a slight roll of her eyes to stress that luck was subjective. “Never before, that we are aware of, has a Papa had a child with the Imperator. This is the start of a new bloodline, possibly one even stronger than before. It would have made Copia the next in line to be Papa before even Primo and that alone… The upheaval that would have caused between all the Emerituses. I just– I couldn’t do that to him.” She shook her head like she was trying to wipe these thoughts from her mind. “Not to mention how the controversy from that could have caused so many delays with our advancement. There was still so much that needed to be done within our Church itself before revealing his true lineage could even happen. Many times I went into ceremony, evoking whomever I could to get advice or answers and every single time I was told to wait. My sacrifice of motherhood was for a reason and not just a consequence; it was for the future generations to come. And I never understood exactly what they meant, until now. Until you showed your mark of Lilith, proving that the Prophecy of the Trilogy will come to pass.”

Your mind was flooded with the memory of your first vision at the start of all of this. While you were still incredibly angry for the abandonment Copia had to endure, your face softened as your features fell to display the shock from your realization: you had spoken with King Belial himself. Now it made sense as to why Lucifer sent Belial in his place. This truly was your destiny.

The weight of your impending decision slammed against your chest causing you to intake a silent gasp. Words rang through your mind from that first vision: “The Emeritus clan is trying to take matters into their own hands… Each side is trying to control fate… Sole survivor… The pure Emeritus line must be–” No. This was too much. To have everything come crashing down on you like this, all at once, was suffocating.

And yet, you started to see the choice that Sister Imperator had spoken of having to make, choosing between two things she loved dearly. Unlike her, you had free will, yes, but the path that should be taken was becoming more and more obvious. You didn’t want to think of this right now. You couldn’t. You shook your head, trying to rid yourself of these thoughts that had overwhelmed you and tried to remember why you were angry in the first place.

Just one look at Copia righted the course of low simmering rage inside of you. “Aren’t you even the slightest bit pissed off?” you asked him. He blinked at you a couple of times before a scowl pulled at his features.

“Oh, I’m sorry, is my reaction not to your liking? Not all of us go, pew pew pew,” he made finger guns, moving his hands like they were firing off, “guns blazing and shit right away.”

“That’s not what I’m saying. What I’m saying is I know you well enough that usually you make some kind of comment or at least those noises you make when you’re caught off guard or– or something!”

“Usually, but this isn’t a usual circumstance, now is it?” You opened your mouth to try and say something, but nothing came out. “Seems like we both don’t know each other as well as we thought we did, eh?”

“The woman who’s like the Wizard of Oz of the whole Satanic Church, granted with actual influence, has lied to you your whole life and kept this giant secret from you. She watched you grow up motherless, struggling, and did nothing. Don’t you think that’s a bit fucked up, no matter whatever reasoning she uses to justify it?”

“Ah, and you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, amore?” The term of endearment he used was anything but endearing as the word left his lips as fast as if it were spoiled milk.

“Excuse me?” you retorted in offense.

“You know all about keeping a giant secret and justifying it however you can to ease your own guilt. You didn’t tell me you fucked your ex. Was it really because you were afraid to hurt me or was it the fact you enjoyed it?” he spat. All at once, everything was catching up with him. He was angry, upset, hurt, betrayed… and the weight of it all was rushing towards him like stampede. His shock had tried to keep him safe, but his anger was winning, leading the charge. Sister Imperator he could understand, that was an old wound. The one you cut into him was fresh and demanded attention.

Sister Imperator awkwardly shuffled and cleared her throat. “I think it’s best if you two work out… what you can now…” she said with a commanding voice as she made her way to leave, stopping in front of Copia to place her hand on his arm. “If it’s alright with you, I’d love to talk about this with you further. Alone,” she emphasized her last word by glancing at you with squinted eyes. Without hesitation he gave her hand a little pat, nodding in agreement.

Your mouth hung open as you watched Sister Imperator stride to the door. She stopped just as her hand wrapped around the door knob. “The ghoul summoning ritual is happening tomorrow no matter what and can be quite taxing… Do try to get some rest.” she said ominously before she finally left.

“Those two things are not even fucking close to being comparable,” you argued as soon as the door latched shut.

“Maybe they’re not. Maybe because what you did to me was worse,” he stated simply, coldly. You were stunned. Even with how heated this conversation was getting, you were frozen in place. The only thing you could do was watch as he turned to go into the bedroom. Tears began to well up in your eyes again out of frustration, anger at yourself, how he so simply admitted how hurt he was, but mostly, because you didn’t realize until now how close you actually were to losing him.

“Tell me what you’re feeling. Please. Please don’t shut me out. Please, just talk to me,” you begged as you trotted behind him. Your voice shook from holding back the floodgates.

He stood still in the doorway, his back was to you, and you were just a couple paces behind him. “If you need to talk, I’m sure there is someone you can find who is more than willing.” Again, you stayed in place, unable to move. You didn’t have time to register the look on his face as he quickly turned and slammed the door in your face.

You couldn’t hear anything except the pounding in your chest. You had to get out of there. On autopilot, your quivering limbs carried you out, still having enough awareness to slam the door to announce your exit. Briskly, you walked. Your goal was to put as much distance between you and those tight living quarters as you could. Where you were going, there was no real destination in mind, but you’d figure it out once you got there.

The hour was late, leaving the halls of the Ministry devoid of the living. As you walked down the main hall, your gait slowed. The frenzied pace at which you started with had eased up considerably. Your guilt and shock trailed behind you like a ball and chain, weighing you down. Nonetheless, you trudged forward, still mulling over your choices of where you would end up.

During your previous relationship, you tried as hard as you could to hold onto the few meaningful friendships you had made. You hadn’t even been here a full year yet before the Satanic Pope became smitten with you. Your friends didn’t really know how to handle your rise in status even with it being as unofficial as it was. Of course, there were still a few who stood by your side, but then as your relationship declined, you grew more and more distant. If you showed up at their door would they even let you in? Especially now after who knows what they heard about you? The risk of rejection wasn’t one you were willing to gamble with. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened. How could they even begin to understand any of this? You couldn’t put them in that uncomfortable position.

And so your feet carried you forward, acting on muscle memory, until you stopped in front of the ornate mahogany door with the ouroboros knocker. Standing in front of it now, it felt vaguely reminiscent of home, even with having to knock. Once you did, you could hear a groan and “Per amore di tutte le cosa empie, làsseme pèrde (for the love of all things unholy, leave me alone)!” on the other side of the door. Again, you moved the ouroboros three times against the door. “Vattene (go away)!” One more time, knock, knock, knock.

The padding of irritated footsteps towards the door left you no time to second guess yourself enough to turn away before the door swung open. “I said go–” You just stood there in your disheveled state, looking up at him and biting your lip to keep the remorse at bay that was threatening to spill from your eyes. The words died in his throat when he saw it was you in front of him.

His hand gripped the door tightly. You could see his shoulders visibly tense. You could see the flash of fear in his eyes, before they became distant, avoidant. You could see how he tilted his head down, so his hair fell over his eyes in an attempt to shield them from you. It was the first time you were able to observe his appearance after what happened, after what you had done to him. Despite the dim light, you could see the swelling, the bruising. Again, muscle memory kicked in when you automatically reached your hand out to brush the hair away from his face. Your lip quivered. He stepped back the instant he noticed your hand move, his knuckles turning white as he tightened his grip on the door.

“I– I just wanted…” you started to speak, but you could feel every two ton brick that had been piled on your shoulders from the day crushing you. Tears slowly trickled down your cheeks as he continued to avoid looking at you. “I don’t know why I even came here,” you said, your voice as shaky as your body felt. Noticing the state of your voice and the trembling hands at your sides, he let his eyes fall upon you. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I– I’ll g-go.”

He noticed how you bit your lip even harder in an attempt to stop the pent up tears from raining down your face. Just as you were about to turn to leave, you saw him step back, opening the door wider, and holding his hand out, inviting you inside.

“N-no. I should– I shouldn’t be–” you spluttered, stopping only when he held his hand up.

“Come in, cara.” The sadness and regret was radiating off you. Not only could he see it, he could feel it. You wouldn’t have just shown up here, like this, without a reason. The least he could do was humor you and hear your apology (at least he assumed that was the reason why you were standing in front of him now). And at this point, he’d take any time spent with you that he could get no matter the circumstance.

The two of you avoided each other’s eyes as you passed through the threshold. You couldn’t help wringing your hands as you awkwardly shuffled into the quarters you used to call home.

Behind you, you felt the ghost of a touch on the small of your back as if he decided at the last second he shouldn’t have touched you, but it was a millisecond too late. He cleared his throat, “Do… you, uh, want something to drink?”

“Okay,” you answered meekly as he made his way over to the kitchen, grabbing a wine glass for you to join his empty one already set on the island, which you currently stood at, staring down at your hands. It seems you had interrupted him pouring himself a fresh glass of wine. You watched as he inspected the unopened bottle he had left on the counter. He pursed his lips. His dual-toned eyes quickly glancing at you then back at the wine in his hand, debating something for a brief moment, before he ultimately put it back in the wine fridge, taking out a different bottle. Your observation skills were lacking at the moment, frayed from lingering unrest.

When he slid your glass over to you, after aerating it, you hastily brought it to your lips, doing your best not to just down the whole thing right then and there. Was drinking with Terzo right now the wisest choice? Probably not. You knew that. But one, maybe two, couldn’t do much more damage than what had already been done. Besides you were desperate for something, anything to take the edge off.

Truthfully, you didn’t expect to taste it once it hit your lips, but this was a taste you’d recognize anywhere. A few years ago, you weren’t really a wine drinker at all, but being with an Italian, you had ended up finding a favorite. This was a tart and fruity yet warm flavor you were quite familiar with. Your eyes widened as you realized he had switched whatever he originally planned on drinking for your favorite bottle of Amarone that he still had in the wine fridge – something that Copia’s apartment had lacked so you opted to forgo grabbing a bottle (or several) when you moved out. Was this his way of extending an olive branch? Or a sort of bribe to keep you at bay out of a newfound fear of you?

As the two of you set your glasses down, the veil of the awkward silence that surrounded you thickened. Not being able to take it anymore, you blurted out “I’m sorry,” while he said “Mi dispiace,” at the same exact time.

With a shy exchange of fleeting almost smiles, you spoke up before he had a chance. “I’m sorry. I–I can’t– I lose control when the other part of me… takes over.”

He shook his head, his bangs swaying from side to side slightly. “No. You have nothing to be sorry about. Not when you did that– you became that, because of me. If any of us should be sorry, it’s me.”

“No. No, this part of me… I was destined to become whatever it is that I am. That’s no excuse for–” You sighed and scrunched your eyes shut for a moment as you tried to formulate coherent sentences. “Ter, I tried to kill you. It doesn’t matter what triggered that. I…” your magnified shame shrunk your voice. “I almost killed you…” All your pain, your remorse, your guilt was pouring down your face when you forced yourself to look him in the eyes. There was no stopping it now. It was all you could do, even though you hated that you were the one standing there crying. Sucking in a staccatoed breath, you reached for the wine like a lifeline, hoping as you finished it off, it would be the life preserver to save you from drowning.

Terzo said nothing, but you could feel his gaze enveloping you like a fog. You were too lost in your own turmoil to notice how his mouth went slack, hanging open ever so slightly when you used what had become a now retired nickname for him that only you used; he couldn’t remember the last time you had called him ‘Ter.’ Only now, because of the pang in his chest, did he realize how much he did… how much he will miss it.

You, however, took his silence as fear, as proof everything you once had, once shared with him, was gone. Placing your glass down with a quavering hand, you could see the emotional pain he regarded you with. Using the back of your hand, you harshly wiped your tears away. “This was— Thanks for the wine. I— I’m just g-gonna go…” you sniffled as you turned towards the door.

Before you cleared the island, he grabbed your right arm. His grip was just firm enough to stop your momentum, but loose enough that you could leave his hand suspended in the air if exiting was what you truly wanted. “No, amore. I-it’s not your fault,” he uttered in a hushed tone around the lump in his throat.

“But—“ you started to speak, your words asphyxiated by the modest tightening of his fingers around your arm.

He shook his head, his glassy, tear laden eyes begging, screaming for you to stay. “It’s not your fault,” he repeated with more conviction. “It’s mine. Please, I just– I need you to know– Il mio cuore batte solo per te, amata mia. Ti prego, perdonami. Ti sto implorando, perdonami (My heart beats only for you, my beloved. Please, forgive me. I’m begging you, forgive me).”

Tears fell from your eyes like passengers jumping off a sinking ship. They blurred your vision as you finally were able to survey the damage you caused up close. You had heard the words Terzo just said to you. You knew the weight they carried, but looking closely at the marks left on him from your unadulterated rage overrode all of your other thoughts.

You took one step closer as you turned to stand in front of him. Raising your still slightly trembling hand to his face, your fingertips moved the hair away from his eyes so gingerly you barely felt it. His eyes closed as your hand trailed down, millimeters away from his face, not daring to make full contact with his skin.

The skull paint he wore daily was long gone, allowing you to see just how his face had swelled, the splattering of reds, purples, and blues that made up the bruises, and the way his lip had clotted where it had split. Floating its way down, your hand hesitantly landed on his collar bone. At first, you removed it, but when he remained still, you set your hand down again, your thumb scarcely caressing the contusions in the shapes of your fingers on his neck.

When he opened his eyes and his stare pierced yours, you let your sobs ripple through you. “I’m sorry. I’m s-so sorry,” you blubbered.

HIs hands found yours and held onto them assuredly. “Hey, hey, look at me… this is the least I deserve after what I’ve put you through, okay? This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

You shook your head. “No. It never had– It never should have gotten this far,” you disagreed. “I could have stopped you. You’re not a monster. I know you aren’t. If I kept fighting, this wouldn’t–”

“The past is over, amore. We can’t–” he inhaled an unsteady breath. “We can’t go back. We can’t turn–”

“Please don’t start singing Cher,” you interrupted, your shoulders rising and falling as you laughed amidst the sadness.

Terzo gasped in mock offense, bringing your joined hands to his chest. “And all this time I thought you loved my sudden musical numbers.”

As quickly as the blanket of sadness was lifted, it draped itself over both of you again, this time, weighted. A heavy silence followed, sucking the nostalgic comradery out of the room like a vacuum. You softly disrupted the crushing silence, “I know we can’t go back, but that doesn’t mean I wish we could…”

The sorrow held in your eyes as you looked up at him chipped away at his already shattered heart. He held your hands tighter in his. Admittedly, he did regard himself as a monster, but your confession offered him a sense of solace at the fact that your harbored feelings weren’t hateful enough to regret him even being in your life.

“What caused… w-why did you come here tonight, tesoro?”

“I had to… He figured out I was in your office when… I told them everything. He knows.”

“I’m not… I can’t– Nothing’s gonna–” he shook his head, letting out a dejected sigh.

“I know,” you whispered reassuringly as you adjusted your hands so your fingers were laced in his. Gratitude and apologies shimmered in the depths of his dichromatic eyes. After you ran your thumb over his knuckles a few times, you gently pulled your hands back. “You know, if I had known all it took to get you to smarten up was almost killing you, I woulda tried that ages ago.” You kept a straight face until you made eye contact with him again and you both erupted into another fit of breathy laughter.

He placed his hands on the sides of your head, tilting it down so he could kiss the top of it. You snaked your arms around his waist, pulling him to you. Nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, you breathed him in. A fear nestled itself in the very back of your mind that was unsure if you would ever be able to have a moment like this again. You could feel his cheek resting atop your head. A faint, content smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Before you could become too comfortable, and Satan forbid start enjoying the moment too much, you pulled away from the embrace.

“I need more wine,” you chuckled.

“Allow me,” he said as he went around to grab the bottle, pouring two more generous helpings. With a tilt of his head towards the couch, you followed him to the living room area, plopping yourself down on the couch, taking your glass of wine. This time, you savored it.

A few moments passed as you sat next to each other, your legs touching. You had spent so many nights like this after long days. Sometimes watching TV, sometimes listening to music. There was a serene comfort in doing something so nostalgic, so familiar. It was almost enough to start to sway your decision. Almost.

As if he could sense your thoughts, he broke the relaxed silence. “He’s the right choice for you, you know.”

“W-what?”

“Copia. He’s… He’s the one that should be by your side if you’re to… lead the flock to new, soaring heights.” Your only response was to furrow your brows, intrigued, timidly cautious of his statement. “Believe me, I still want you to selfishly pick me – I’d do anything for that – but…” the long breath he let out didn’t even come close to easing the pain he felt inside. “I’ve had my time as Papa. I might have gotten us to some new heights, but I fear my time is up. You need someone strong, dedicated and diligent. I just… What I’m trying to say is I understand the choice you have to make. I understand what’s at stake. I’m not going to interfere anymore. This is your life. Your decision. I’ll stand by you, no matter who you choose.”

“How– what– Where is this coming from?” He was not making your decision any easier, despite the logical choice being crystal clear.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Perhaps the lack of oxygen earlier restored some sense in here,” he answered, tapping his temple.

Playfully and lightheartedly, you rolled your eyes. “Too soon, Ter, too soon,” you chuckled. You stalled by finishing your wine, unsure of what to say next.

When you chewed on your lip, Terzo took initiative to change the subject. “Enough of the heavy, depressing shit, hm?” He tried to change the topic of conversation but came up short.

“Sister Imperator is Copia’s real mother,” you blurted out. Terzo almost choked on his wine. “You cannot act like you know. I’ll have to actually kill you for real if you say anything.”

“Now that was too soon,” he jovially winced, before going back to a shocked expression that faded the more he thought about it. “We always suspected as much. He has always been her favorite,” he shrugged.

“That’s the same thing he said!” you laughed until your expression turned sour. “That’s pretty much the only thing he said about it.”

“Ah, did you expect him to have a reaction?”

“Well, wouldn’t you if you found out your mother was right in front of your face your whole life!?” You turned to look at him and the expression on his face made you recoil. “I— Oh shit. I’m sorry I—“

“It’s alright. I know what you meant. Copia has always been… more reserved. He needs time to think about things. Wait, did he find this out after finding out about… us?”

“Um… maybe… and I might have— So, when I told him, um, what happened, I might have said how I… kind of liked it?”

“You did not.” Terzo laughed when he saw your guilty apologetic smile. “No. That’s not funny. It’s not funny.”

“Look, he knew something was up! There was no point in hiding it anymore. But I wasn’t gonna outright say it, I couldn’t. You know how I am. And I’ve been feeling so guilty, because, fine, okay, so what, it was hot! I mean, then I started rambling and said how it all led to the awakening and how I didn’t want to hurt him. I didn’t. I really didn’t but…” With a humorless laugh you threw your head back on the couch. “This is all so incredibly fucked up.” You paused for just a moment before you went back into your rant. “No, actually, you know what’s really fucked up? How he compared me hiding the fact we slept together to Sister Imperator hiding the fact that she’s his mother and somehow what I did was worse.”

“Ah, and you don’t see how the two compare.”

“No! You know what he went through growing up and she just sat back and watched.”

“But he’s never had a strong maternal figure. He does, however, have you. Sister Imperator has always been… a figure of authority. He loves you. There’s trust built there. He doesn’t care why you kept it a secret, it’s just the fact that you did. And I bet that whatever he said to you that made you want to leave, he regrets.”

You were positively stunned at the sage words from Terzo. It was nights like this when you first started seeing him that made you fall for him. You two would just be lounging, drinking wine, and then all of a sudden he would say something profound that would shift your perspective. As your mind spiraled into the pros and cons of Copia vs Terzo, you set your empty glass down next to the unfinished bottle of wine and grabbed it, taking a large swig from it. “Satanas, now I know why you’d drink so much,” you commented.

Terzo practically leapt forward to take the bottle out of your grasp, setting it back down on the coffee table. “And I think that’s enough of that.”

“You’re no fun,” you pouted.

“Just talk to him. Apologize. He’ll come around.”

“But I don’t want to go back there right now. I want to stay here. With you.” You punctuated your sentence by nestling into his side, throwing your arm around his waist.

He moved his arm to wrap around your shoulders. “You don’t have to. I don’t want you to leave, not yet.” In response, you just held him tighter.

You stayed like that long enough for your breathing to start to slow, almost drifting off into light sleep. “Hey…” he whispered, gently stirring you awake. “Let’s get some sleep, hm?”

You nodded as you got up and followed him to your formerly shared bed. Being wrapped in the violet satin sheets felt like visiting a past life, one that you didn’t realize just how much you had longed to return to. He draped his arm around your waist as you settled into your side of the bed. “Do you have to go to Mexico tomorrow?” you asked, almost shyly.

“You know I do, tersorino.” You could feel the subtle shake of his chest from his light laughter.

“Hmph, fine,” you grumbled. You rolled over so you could bury your face in his chest. If this was your last night of finding comfort in his arms, you were going to make the most of it. Hearing his steady heartbeat under your ear reminded you of the words he said to you earlier. “Ter?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“Hm?” he hummed in response as he dragged his fingertips gently over your forearm.

Shifting somewhat so you could look at him, even in the darkness, you placed your hand on his cheek. “I forgive you.” He took your hand that was on his cheek, removing it from his face. He placed a soft kiss on the back of your hand. “I don’t know how I’ll– I can’t stay away from you,” you confessed.

“You’ll learn, amata mia.”

“But–”

“Shhh. I’m right here. Just sleep,” he reassured you as he ran his fingers through your hair. “You need to rest for the ritual tomorrow.” You nodded and snuggled back up to him again. “Ti amerò per sempre anche dopo il mio ultimo respiro (I will love you forever even after my last breath).”

Terzo could feel the adrenaline pumping through his body as he propelled himself forward. The only thing he could do was run. The thundering of hooves haunting him in the shadows. He couldn’t help but look over his shoulder to see just how close his assailant was. The shadows concealed the source of the pounding hooves. He could clearly hear them, he knew whatever was chasing him was close and gaining on him fast.

He could see a clearing up ahead. He didn’t know why, but he knew he just had to make it there. Branches and briars from the forest he ran through scraped and clawed his skin, but he had to keep going.

Somehow he made it to almost the middle of what appeared to be a meadow. He suddenly tripped, his hands catching his fall, but he scrambled to return upright, to keep running. Once on his feet again, he turned and looked. Slowly, emerging from the shadows of the forest was an unmistakable, pale, white horse with red glowing eyes. When he made eye contact with the creature, the one he had been desperately trying to escape, everything stilled.

He couldn’t focus on anything but those red eyes.

“You never want me to appear… yet here I am. Here I have always been.” While the horse’s mouth didn’t move, he knew the beast was speaking directly to him. He tried to scream, but no sound came out.

He turned to try and start running again, but as he did, he saw the horse now in front of him. It was charging at him, only this time, he could see the rider. The hood flew off the rider’s head to reveal a woman, her dress and cloak billowing behind her as the horse galloped full speed at him. He was frozen. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t move.

Finally he recognized who the rider was. He would know her anywhere. Atop the horse was you. Your hand outstretched as you drew nearer… and nearer…

He tried to turn to run, or duck, or any kind of movement in an attempt to save himself, but he stood in place, glued to the ground beneath his feet.

When your outstretched hand clasped around his throat, Terzo jolted awake, gasping for air. He was panting, as if he really had been running, trying to save himself. He reached his arm out, trying to find your sleeping form next to him, seeking your warmth, your comfort. But all he felt beside him was his cold and empty bed.

part ix | part xi

#you’re losing me #papa terzo #terzo emeritus #terzo #terzo x reader #terzo angst #terzo x female reader #papa emeritus iii #papa emeritus iii x reader #cardinal copia #cardinal copia x reader #copia x female reader #copia #the band ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #the band ghost fanfiction #copia angst #cardinal copia x female reader

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yulin-pop · 1 year

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↛ ❀ 2023 Kickoff

Floyd Leech

“ Good morning.” | “ Why are you in my room…?”

Note: Use of princess but like in a joking manner

The sun beamed down into the room, lighting it up completely. You stirred and flipped on your side yet opened your eyes. You let out a huff.

You saw something oddly colorful. Teal and yellow at the side of your bed. You’re rubbed your eyes and brushed it off as still being half awake .

“ Good morning, Shrimpy!”

You knew who it was just from the nickname. A rush of a adrenaline shot through your body and you shuffled away from him quickly.

“Why are you in my room…?”

He laughed and a grinned played across his face. “Hah! Look at you. I didn’t think my very presence would scare you. That’s kinda mean actually.” He sorta ignored your question.

You sat up and held your head while letting out a sigh. “Okay, actually why are you here?” You asked in a groggily voice.

It took him a second to stop laughing until he was able to respond. “Eh, you don’t remember last night?”

You shook your head, obviously not. You really can’t remember much really. You tried to think but it all came out blank. The last thing you could remember was attending class.

“Maybe all that stress messed up your head. You passed out in the court yard.” Floyd playfully said, “Your lil’ pet was freaking out and legit about to cry. Crabby and Mackerel were so scared. Apparently so scared they just let you lay there on the pavement for a few minutes…”

Yep that’s definitely your friends. But you really don’t have any sort of memory of that.

“Well, and then when I was playing with Gold Fish— we saw you. They were arguing over it but I decided to just bring you back home. Gold Fish assumed you were stressed about something.”

Thinking about it, you remember it now. You made that face of realization. You were severely stressed about something kinda stupid…

“Do you finally remember?”

“Uh yeah…” You scratched your head anxiously. “I was getting all worried about getting home. I started thinking about it and suddenly I couldn’t focus on my daily activities anymore.”

He got up off the floor and sat down on the side of your bed. He leaned in and cupped your cheek. “Maybe the rest helped. You eyebags are gone.” He came closer to inspect.

“You have no sense of personal space.”

“And you don’t know how to deal with your emotions.”

What an insult.

You pried his hand off your face and squeezed it. “You don’t know how to control it. You’re borderline psychotic when you’re angry.”

“Pfft better than just holding it in I guess.”

You couldn’t tell if he was being mean or actually right. You continued to squeeze his hand with all your force as if you were trying to strangle it.

“You really suck at that!”

You released his hand and fell back onto your pillow. “I’m hungry.” You looked at him expectantly.

“Let’s just go to Mostro Lounge… It’s dusty in here.” He stood up and walked towards the door. He noticed you were still laying down, “Hey get up Shrimpy don’t be lazy.”

You scoffed in response.

“Does the wittle pwincess wanna be cwarried?” He cooed, you sat up and objected his mockery.

You can never wrap your head around someone like Floyd. He always thinks to go forward and not worrying. Is he careless or stupid? Probably both.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #2023 kickoff event

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babygirlbites · 5 months

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Wolves and their star signs

Hello my little cherubs - how are we doing ? I hope we are doing well

Are we pretending I haven’t been gone for years? Absolutely!

Anyway, let’s talk star signs real quick. None of this is based on canon birthdays, I’m simply beyond Stephanie and her knowledge of her own characters.

These are MY opinions, which are fact as I am factually never wrong. However you are welcome to discuss

Jacob is a Leo; bold, stubborn, natural born leader. this man has main characteritis for sure. I’ve never met a Leo man who didn’t think he was always correct and was so headstrong about it, even when being actively proven wrong. I feel like Jake could wake up one morning and decide the sky is red and anyone who disagreed or god forbid brought factual evidence to him that disproved this would be ignored AND judged. However, Leo’s are loyal (to a fault, often) so although he’s headstrong he’s a ride or die for sure. If he likes you he is going to defend you against anything (excluding himself though because remember, he’s always right) and if he LOVES YOU pfft, I wouldn’t be messing with a Leo’s lover that’s for sure.

Sam is a Pisces; emotional, calm, strong willed. ugh, where do i start. Pisces are so emotional, which may seem like a good thing but I promise you those Pisces men can and will use this to manipulate, gaslight and gatekeep. He’s artistic though, and generally a reliable gent, but sometimes he can be a real nasty little man. He’s sly about his anger, he isn’t a shouting/agressive man at all, he would never DREAM of hurting you (the Emily situation will not repeat) but he can make you feel like shit emotionally. Pisces are just too clever idk I don’t mean to slander you all but as an aqua woman yous are real difficult

Embry is an Aquarius; Creative, smart, thinks outside the box, independent . He’s sensitive, but only when he’s close enough to you to allow you too see that. Aqua knows aqua, I know this boy would be super hard to get into the inner circle of. Sure, he’s openly friendly to everyone, but only the small few that HE allows close will see the real him. Once you do though, he’s an open book, belly laughing at your shitty dad jokes and ugly crying at pet rehoming tiktoks on his fyp.

Paul is a Gemini; loud, fun, and maybe a bit toxic. now I did debate aries for Paul but I just think he’s an air sign through and through. Sure, he’s firey as hell, but he’s so charming and no Aries has that level of rizz (sorry guys but the truth hurts sometimes). He’s a player through and through, he’s got a contacts list full of girls under code names like “girl from Seattle” or “drives a Honda” - which the feminist in me has an issue with but I can’t lie I love a Gemini. They are feral, and as long as you can prepare for that, then they will be the most fun you ever have. Just don’t get attached, or do, I can’t tell you what to do!

Jared is a libra; fun, lighthearted and emotionally wrecked. I love libras but damn do you guys wear your hearts on your sleeves! You’re so easily hurt, and you’ve BEEN hurt, and guess what? You’ll get hurt again. I feel like Jared’s the kind of guy to get played by the same girl/guy multiple times but still tell everyone they are his “twin flame”. Please treat this boy right - I don’t know if he can take the heartbreak (he can, and it will NOT put him off)

Quil is a cancer; he’s soft, he’s loving and he’s emotionally enlightened! We love a cancer in this house, emotional like a Pisces but open like a libra, a cancer is the right mix of mature and fun. They are sweet and sensitive and if any star sign is going to be an empath, it’s cancer. I feel like quil is the guy you go too when you’ve just found out something awful - all the guys would be there for you but where Paul or Jake or Sam even would blow a gasket and leave you alone while then went out on a rampage to hurt whomever was unlucky enough to hurt the one they love, Quil would take you in, cook for you and listen to whatever you had to say. Of course, he’s angry someone has upset you, but he’s more bothered that you are okay then that they aren’t. He’s a good guy, that’s all.

Leah is a Taurus; strong willed, well routed and stubborn. She’s practical, she’s gonna tell you straight up what she thinks with no filter, and sometimes that can hurt. She’s not the biggest personality in the room or the loudest voice at the party but she’s straight to the point and not afraid to be heard when she sees fit. She’s fun too, when she wants to be and with whom she wants to be. Under all of this though she’s family centred; she will kill for her family (and found family).

Seth is a Virgo; bold, grounded but enchanting. Virgos have a way of capturing a whole room without even having to try, they aren’t brash or loud but they are just so vibrant man idk! There’s something about them. Anyway I think Seth is just a lovely sunshine character, he’s deffo got cancer in his big three too, maybe his moon, but the Virgo energy is there for me. He’s the fun earth sign and he’s not gonna let you forget it

#twilight saga #imagine #imagines #twilight #leah clearwater #quileute #embry call #jacob black x reader #jacob black #sam uley #sam uley x reader #leah clearwater x reader #quil ateara #jared cameron #seth clearwater #star signs

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thebibutterflyao3 · 3 months

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Day 12 - Prompt: Question @wolfstarmicrofic

January Daily Series - 624 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Sirius looked over his shoulder with a smug grin and an arched eyebrow. He’d clearly caught Remus’s avid nodding at his admission. Remus smirked back at him, trying to ignore the twist in his gut every time Sirius smiled at him.

“Can I ask you a question?” he said.

Remus blinked rapidly, then nodded again. “Go on.”

“Do you like living here?”

Of all the inquiries that Sirius could aim his way, that was one that Remus wasn’t expecting. Based solely on the bloke’s tendency to stare at his scars, he was preparing for a little deflection of his own. Instead, he had to abruptly redirect his line of thought. He lived here because his parents did. It wasn’t an intentional decision on his part to be born in this specific town. Although, he supposed staying here was a choice.

“Not especially. I’ve just never had a compelling reason to leave. My parents live here, and so does Lily.”

“Not for long!” Lily interjected, pointing at him. “Only a matter of time before I leave you for London.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Sure. You’ve been saying that for literal years, Lily. I think you’re stuck with me.”

“Nonsense! I just haven’t squirrelled away enough money yet.”

“I’ll hide in your luggage.”

Lily puffed air through her teeth. “Pfft, I’d like to see you try.”

“You have a lot of clothes to pack, I think I could manage it.”

Sirius glanced between them and laughed. “You two are as codependent as me and James.”

“Maybe more,” Lily said. “We grew up together. Remus is the brother I never needed.”

“And you’re the sister I didn’t want,” he snarked, dodging her hand swatting at him.

“Oh hush. You love me.”

Remus increased his stride and draped his forearms on her shoulders. “Now that’s true, but you can be bloody annoying.”

“Only because I’m always right.”

“Disturbingly so. You should be a fortune teller.”

Sirius watched him and Lily banter with a delighted grin on his face. His eyes flashed with an emotion Remus couldn’t quite identify at first. If he was pressed for a guess, he’d say…nostalgia. It was similar to the way that Lily watched Padfoot bound from the sand to the sea, likely thinking about her childhood dog, Rhett.

“I would rather read palms. That way, if they don’t like my predictions, I can say, ‘I’m simply reading what it says in your life line, darling,’” Lily said, adopting a deep, dramatic American accent. It reminded him a little of Judy Garland, his mum’s favourite.

“Clever. Plausible deniability.” Remus tapped her temple lightly. “You always think two steps ahead.”

Sirius’s pace slowed until he matched Remus’s stride. He ignored it. Remus didn’t want to expose how deeply he was already invested in Sirius’s every movement, facial expression, and the intonation of his voice. Not until he knew for sure that Sirius was actually interested. Otherwise, Lily said it was just a bit creepy.

I mean, I did look-up his social media last night. Maybe it’s time to embrace that I am a bit creepy.

He wasn’t sure what was worse, his creepy cyber stalking or the obsessive mental dossier he’d assembled of everything he’d learned about the man. At least he acknowledged the need to conceal it. People did tend to find his fixations strange unless they were dating. Then, it was “romantic” and “thoughtful” that he could recall their favourite childhood television show that was mentioned off-handedly two years ago.

It was an unusual skill, to be fair. Remus thought he would have been quite good on those old newlywed game shows. Even if they weren’t married, he’d get every question right.

I know who you are. I just wish you’d see me too.

Next Part>>>

#the marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #lily evans #wolfstar microfic

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getosprettyboy · 11 days

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Thornes Without Roses

Pairing : Loki x Reader

Tags : sh, angst, hurt/comfort, just be warned

Summary : Loki reacts to your sh.

A/N : Hope you like it?

You know you shouldn’t do this. You know how wrong this is. You know that this is the least helpful thing to do to yourself. But it’s not that you’re doing this for attention.

No.

You just feel like you deserve this. You deserve the pain, you deserve to bleed, that’s what you tell yourself.

The last couple of days has been really hard on you. A failed mission with two casualties led you to get yelled at by the relatives of the victims which led you into self-loathing which then led to you thinking how big of a disappointment you are and such a heavy burden to carry. Before this, you were already feeling low due to your depression coming back with all these negative thoughts to make you want to jump off a building.

This isn’t something new as you have been dealing with these feelings as a kid and you are used to it now. The thing you shouldn’t be used to is how you deal with these emotions. You know these aren't the best coping mechanisms but it is all you have.

You go towards your desk and grab a sharpener, you also grab a screwdriver to take out the blade. You haven’t done this in a year because you promised yourself to never go down this path ever again but here you are.

You go to the bathroom towards the sink and look at yourself in the mirror. You wondered, when did things get so bad?

You held your am in front of you and dug the blade in your skin and drew a line. You watched as the skin then started to bleed. You choked on a sob and then drew more lines with the blade until you started sobbing.

Why were you like this?

Why did you have to be such a burden on your friends?

Why couldn’t you just stay happy?

What is wrong with you?

These thoughts swarmed your head as you sat on the toilet and put your head on your hands and sobbed. You sobbed about how you were incapable of love and how you were probably better off dead.

You kept on doing this for a month. Cutting yourself almost every day and hiding those wounds by wearing sweaters, jackets, or anything to hide the cuts made by you. Maybe your sadness was reflecting on your face and how you behaved because you started eating less, and got more reckless during missions which would lead you to be yelled at by one of your friends. You knew they meant well but you couldn’t bother yourself to listen to them. They even started asking questions.

“Are you alright [Y/N]?”

“Do you want to talk?”

“You know we are always there for you.”

“You know we love you right?”

Your least favourite was when you were asked - “Why are you wearing full sleeves in the middle of June?”

You hated these questions in general.

One day you were feeling extremely low and overwhelmed and thought of cutting yourself. You went to your room and took your sharpener and went to the bathroom and took off your sweatshirt and began to cut yourself.

As soon as you started to cut yourself there was a knock on your bathroom door.

“[Y/N], are you there?”

It was Loki. Shit! Why did he have to come at a time like this?!

“Fuck!”

“[Y/N]?” Loki asked cautiously.

“One minute!!!” You said in a panic.

You tried to hide everything. You put a band-aid on your wound and hid the sharpener in the medicine box. You flushed the toilet to seem you were busy and came out of the bathroom with a smile on your face.

“Hey! Loki, what brings you here?” You asked.

“Well I just wanted to talk about something.” He said.

“What is this something?” You asked.

“It’s about you [Y/N], you seem very down lately. Are you alright?”

“Pfft! I’m totally fine. I don’t know why everyone is asking me that.”

“If you say so.” He looked down and his eye caught your bare arm.

Shit! Shit! Shit! You forgot to wear your sweatshirt.

You tried hiding your non-dominant hand but Loki already saw it.

“Show me your arm.” He demanded, you looked into his eyes and there was a half-hearted glare.

“It’s nothing. I promise.” You said but your voice reached deaf ears. You were panicking, your heart rate increasing. Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Why was this happening? Why today of all days? Your vision was beginning to blur from your tears.

“[Y/N] I’m going to ask you this one last time. What happened? To. Your. Arm?” He asked firmly.

You couldn’t take it anymore, the dam broke and you were now crying. Holding your head in your hands in shame. You felt shame, guilt, and sadness. You broke down into your arms.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so so sorry Loki. Please don’t be angry at me. I'm so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen. Loki I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry Loki. Please, please don’t be mad.” You cried. You cried and cried and cried in your hands not wanting to look at Loki because he might be looking at you with fury in his eyes or disgusted with you or something worse that you don’t want to imagine.

The last thing you expected was a hug from him. You stood there shocked at his reaction, you silently just stood there confused until you started crying again.

This felt so much better. His embrace was so warm. You felt a ray of sunshine finally blooming in you as he held you tight as you sobbed in his arms.

He guided you towards the bed and made you sit beside him while he comforted you.

“Shhh, it’s ok. Let it all out. I’m here, it’s ok [Y/N] I’m here, I’m here, it’s alright.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Loki. I don’t mean to be such a burden. I’m sorry” You said while violently sobbing.

“[Y/N] stop apologising. I am not angry” He said calmly.

“What I am is concerned about your well-being. I know the last few weeks have been harsh on you, but that doesn’t mean you would do this to yourself. You are better than this and you are not a burden to me in my life nor in anyone else’s life but what you are is a blessing in human form and especially to me, You are like the sun shining brightly in my darkest of days, you mean the whole world to me [Y/N] and I mean it whole-heartedly. Do you understand what I am saying [Y/N]?”

You nodded weakly.

There was a pause, and then Loki continued. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel that you can’t open up to me but I promise that I won’t judge you and promise to make you feel safe and comfortable with me.”

Your heart warmed up at his words. Maybe you should’ve gone to Loki or a therapist for help instead of doing this. But you couldn’t do anything else because you felt that you would be burdening your friends by doing so but after hearing Loki maybe that isn’t the case.

You could feel more tears in your eyes. You couldn’t help it. Nobody has said something like that to you. You’ve been doing this since you were fourteen and you sure as hell weren’t going to stop but maybe you’re going to try to stop doing this.

Your cries had subdued to hiccups and you were just processing what he said.

“Thank you… Loki. I really appreciate you saying that.”

“You’re welcome, and I meant all of that so whenever you feel like doing that to yourself just call for me and I will distract you from it,” Loki said sincerely.

“Thank you.” That’s all that you could say. Those were just two words but he knew how sincere you were about it.

You both stayed like that. Loki held you tight in his embrace and you rested your head on his chest as you both lay down on the bed. His heartbeat slowly lulls you to sleep and after so many sleepless nights you had the best sleep.

#loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki angst #loki drabble #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki fic #loki x you #loki x y/n

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giggly-bun · 9 months

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Hey! Idk if this would be too much to ask, but could you possibly please write a fic with Lee! Kaveh and Lers! Alhaitham, Cyno, and Tighnari? Maybe it can be a twist on the dinner scene at the end of his hangout quest when it’s just the four of them and they tickle Kaveh to make him cheer up a bit! Some really good verbal teasing that would make Kaveh all cute and flustered would be amazing as well 👀

Thanks!

Cheers to That {Sumeru 4}

A/N [WARNING THIS IS A TICKLE FIC] if you don’t like it, don’t read it. Sorry for any mistakes that i’ve made but i hope if you read this I hope you enjoy it. i hope it’s up to standard for everyone and thank you for your patience anon <3 - bunny 🔮

Why was he so useless? Everyone was just messing with him, they didn’t really want him around. How could they? He brought nothing to the table and everyone only sticks around for pity and-

“Kaveh!”

His head shot up at the call from Tighnari. The blond looked around and realised that not only was Tighnari staring at him, but Alhaitham and Cyno too. They looked like they were expecting something from him.

“I-I’m sorry, what did you say?” The blond replied, stammering over his words as he tried to shake off the dark feeling welling up in his chest. Why did his eyes feel hot? Tighnari looked at him with a concerned look.

“It’s your turn to put down a card, Kaveh.” The fennec repeated, realising Kaveh was too lost in his thoughts to know what was going on. Said blond jumped a little and placed his card down while muttering out some brief apologies, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to get away without an incoming interrogation from his friends and roommate.

“Kaveh, is everything alright?” Cyno asked, and it made the architect wince a little.

“You don’t seem quite yourself tonight, you’ve barely touched your drink either.” Tighnari reiterated, gesturing to Kaveh’s full plate and half empty cup. Kaveh just gave an awkward laugh and shook his hand.

“Pfft, what’re you guys talking about. Nothing’s wrong with me, I’m perfectly fine.” He said. As some sort of proof, he backed the rest of his drink and put it back on the table with a smile, “See? I-I’m just not really in the drinking mood right now.”

"Kaveh." A low and brooding voice said. Of course, the sound came from none other than his roommate, Alhaitham. "What's the matter?" He asked. Naturally, after being around each other for so long, the scribe knew Kaveh better than anyone, much to his dismay. The blond sighed, glancing back around the room at his friends, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. Was the room always this small? Wait- why did his cheeks feel so wet-

"Kaveh why are you crying?" He heard Tighnari speak, or perhaps Cyno- When was the last time Alhaitham said anything? It was a terrible feeling, being out of control of your body, yet being acutely aware of your surroundings simultaneously. Before he knew it, there was an arm around his shoulder, and he was facing Alhaitham, the gray haired man having sat himself right next to Kaveh in the flurry of emotions.

"Kaveh, I need you to just breathe for me." His other half said, tone low, but concern lacing every fibre of his words. "You're safe here, just relax. Breathe with me." He repeated, and Kaveh did as he was told. With each breath he started to feel more and more relaxed, his worries beginning to dissipate as he realised he was, indeed, safe with his friends. Shortly after he had calmed down, Cyno and Tighnari joined them at the other end of the table. "Kaveh, is everything okay? You can talk to us about whatever is bothering you, we're your friends." Nari chimed in, rubbing comforting circles on his back. Kaveh rubbed the tears from his eyes and sighed.

"I-I'm sorry about that, it's just that I thought you guys might be better off without me here. I was just thinking about how I don't really contribute anything to the table as far as our friendship goes, so I apologise for ruining the mood." He looked around apprehensively, expecting his friends to judge him. Instead, he was greeted with looks of worry.

"Kaveh, that is absurd." Cyno spoke first. "We have you around because you are our friend, and we are happy to have you around." The general put a comforting hand on the architect's shoulder.

"I agree with Cyno. Kaveh, you're funny, kind-hearted and a general delight to be around. And there isn't a chance that you ruined our evening, you never do."

"If anyone ruined the evening tonight, it was general Cyno with those lame jokes he is always spewing." Kaveh looked at Alhaitham with a small smile on his lips.

"Hey! They are not lame jokes, they are funny, you just lack the comprehension for my humor." Cyno rebutted.

"To understand your humor, the joke would have to be funny first." And so, their bickering began, Cyno dishing out more jokes to which Alhaitham and Tighnari groaned, while Kaveh watched the scene play on. He had to admit, he was glad the atmosphere wasn't awkward, and he found himself giggling at the hilarity of the situation. His three friends looked over at the sound.

"See, even Kaveh thinks my jokes are funny, you two should take after him." Cyno stated, a proud smile etched on his lips from the thought that Kaveh was laughing along with him.

"Cyno, while I appreciate your efforts to make us laugh, I must admit the jokes are pretty lame." Tighnari barked out a laugh at Kaveh's response, and Haitham turned away, concealing a chuckle under his breath. The Mahamatra sat back with an offended look on his face, scoffing slightly.

"Kaveh, my dear friend, I thought you were on my side."

"I am! It's just that they aren't the best jokes."

"Well, if that's how you feel, then I suppose I should give you something to truly laugh about."

"What do you me-EHE! Cynohoho nohohoho!" Kaveh squealed in delight. The other two looked down to see what Cyno was doing, and they quickly realised the situation when they saw said general skittering his fingers up the length of Kaveh's sides. The architect squeaked, attempting to bat the other's hands away, but like a true warrior, Cyno didn't back down.

"I think you mean, 'Cyno yes!'" he chuckled, moving his hands to scribble at the grooves of Kaveh's ribs. "Now, what kind of friend would I be if I just let you sit there with a pout all night." Kaveh lurched at the new feeling, thrashing his body vehemently, and ultimately backing up into Alhaitham, his counterpart sitting with a faint pink hue on his cheeks.

"Guhuhuhuys hehelp me! Plehehehease." Kaveh begged through his cries. He kept his hands pawing at Cyno's while calling for the others.

"I don't know, Kaveh. You do seem pretty happy, perhaps this is what you need to pick yourself back up."

"Nohoho Nahahari I ahaham fine! Hehehelp mehehe- GAH!"

"I suppose I could help, just this once." He heard the fennec reply as he shuffled closer. "Say, Kaveh, what are your worst spots?" Kaveh's eyes bugged out of his head comically, the question sending shivers down his spine.

"Why wohohould I tehehehehell you!" He squealed out when Cyno hit a particularly ticklish spot on his ribs.

"Because we just want to make you happy. I'm sure Alhaitham knows, don't you Alhaitham?" There was a beat of silence while the two lers looked over at the man who had stayed silent throughout the whole ordeal. Kaveh took the opportunity to breathe, and he looked at Alhaitham wearily, because he most definitely does know.

“I have no knowledge of Kaveh’s worst spot.” He said, tone flat, and Kaveh thanked his lucky stars that he was playing it safe.

“S-See? So, let’s just get back to- AHA! NAHAHAHA!”

“I do, however, know the spot that makes him scream.”

That bastard!

Alhaitham had silently lifted his index finger and began to drill it into the center of Kaveh’s upper back, toggling with the muscles in a way that, in fact, made Kaveh scream. He thrashed and tried to move back away from his junior, but Cyno kept him in his place by putting his legs over Kaveh’s lap. Oh, Kaveh almost cried.

“PLEHEHEHEAS- NOHOT THEHEHEHERE! HAIHIHIATHAM!” He screeched and squealed, face burning as the noises he made echoed into his own ear.

“Wow, he’s really ticklish there.” Thighnari said, ears twitching at the sound of Kaveh’s ears.

“He’s got a cute laugh, I’ve never seen him so giddy.”

“STAHAHAHP TALKING LIKE IHIHI AHAHAHAHAM NOHOT HERE! NYAHAHAHA-“ Alhaitham changed the pressure in which he was tickling and it sent the poor blond into new bouts of laughter.

“Indeed, I’ve found it’s an effective way to shut him up whenever he talks nonsense.” Haitham said smugly, not being able to hide his smirk any more. “He also cannot stand it when I do this.” Using his four fingers, he began to rake them up and down the stretch of exposed skin shown through the back window of Kaveh’s shirt. Curse that shirt! Kaveh almost flew out of his seat, jumping 6ft in the air at the sensation.

“DOHOHON’T- I CAHAHAHAN’T I HAHAHATE YOU!”

“No you don’t.”

“He never laughs this hard at my jokes.” Cyno huffed out.

“That’s because Kaveh is more ticklish than you are funny, obviously.” That comment earned Nari a flick to the ear.

It was terribly ticklish in the worst way possible, but why was he not hating this as much as he should be? I mean, he never truly minds when his friends tickle him, it was just humiliating, emphasised by the blush spreading to his ears.

“OKAHAHAY- ACK! ohohoOHOKAY I GIVE! I GIHIHIVE I’M HAHAH-“ His laughter dipped into silence, only being heard again when a snort broke the quiet. “I'M HAPPY! nohohoho mohohohore!” Fine, they’d had their fun. Alhaitham removed his hands, watching Kaveh shakily sit up and avoid eye contact with the rest of the group while he caught his breath.

“Are you feeling better, Kaveh?” Cyno asked, facing him with a small smile.

“Yohohou know whahat? I actually am, I think I needed that, thanks guys. But you all owe me another drink!”

They laughed at that, and thus the drinks kept coming, and Kaveh had forgotten his earlier troubles in favor of living in the moment with his friends.

#tickle fic #tickling #genshin tickle #lee!kaveh #ler!alhaitham #ler!cyno #ler!tighnari

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beebotea · 10 months

Text

hey, are you listening? — part 08

pairing : college au!xiao x f!reader . summary : in which uni students decipher vague tweets and emotions... + ie: second-year students y/n and xiao are forced to work through their term project (and feelings) as their friends attempt to meddle with their love lives ‘for the greater good’ . cw : swearing, slut-shaming, suggestive, reader she/her pronouns .

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08. house visit

act 1, scene 1

“My, my, my! Aren’t you up and early today. What, got another date with Xiao again?” Hu Tao walked into the kitchen where Y/N was preparing breakfast for her and her roommates. The brunette teasingly winked at her roommate who’s cheek had started to heat up again.

“Well no… but yes. He invited me over to work today. I can ask if you wanna come.”

“Oh I knew it! There’s absolutely no way you’d wake up so early just to make us breakfast. And I won’t be able to come. I signed up for peer mentoring so I have a meeting later today.”

“C’mon, 10 a.m. isn’t that early.”

“Uh, for you it is! Sometimes you sleep in until 1 p.m. on Fridays…”

“Fine, fine, I surrender,” Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes as she lifted her hands up in surrender. “Do you want to call Yanfei up? The food is almost ready.”

“She’s in the washroom right now I think. Oh man, the food smells so good! You haven’t cooked us breakfast in forever.”

Yanfei joined the two at the table and the three girls chatted away on what’s been happening in their separate classes as of late. Despite always texting the girls and seeing them everyday for dinner, their studies and work often limited the time they had to spend together.

It was more surprising that Y/N was yet to spill the beans on her recent study sessions with the elusive Xiao from their ethics class.

“So, how is he? Have you cracked the shell yet? I haven’t really talked to him much since middle school, but our families keep in touch.” Hu Tao asked, taking a bite out of her food.

“You made him sound so much more intimidating than he actually was.”

“No, Hu Tao’s right. I remember that guy barely talking to anyone all of high school. The only reason why people knew him was because he was pretty…” Yanfei chirped in.

“He seems really nice to me… a gentleman too.”

Hu Tao choked on the juice she had been drinking. “Pfft. What? Xiao? Gentleman?”

“Yeah! He’s really sweet!” Y/N continued to detail the events of her meetings with the dark teal haired boy. From his first acts of chivalry, to how he took care of her at the cafe and even how he nailed her order twice! Her best friends couldn’t seem to bring themselves to believe her, insisting that maybe Xiao hit his head one day and had a whole personality change.

“Or who knows? Maybe his cousin is right and he does feel something for you. But it’s only been a few days so who am I to say?”

—

act 2, scene 1

The door opened to reveal Xiao, wearing a tank top and sweats.

“Hey, come in. Sorry if it’s a bit messy, we’re cleaning up a bit.”

“Oh, hey Y/N! I haven’t seen you since the party! How have you been?” Kazuha called from within the living room. Y/N looked behind Xiao to see the platinum haired boy sweeping, wearing what looked like a cute pink cleaning apron.

“Hey, Kazuha— why are you dressed like that?”

“He’s a little silly like that.” Y/N looks over and spotted Heizou, leaning on the kitchen counter, chuckling as Kazuha side eyed him.

“Heizou, hi!”

Not long after did a fourth voice follow, signaling the entrance of the indigo haired pain-in-the-ass.

“Hope the door didn’t hit you on the way in, Y/N.”

“… nice to see you too bestie— Hey! Don’t touch me!” She yelled as Scaramouche teasingly ruffled her hair.

Xiao swatted away his cousin’s hand and grabbed his project partner by the shoulders to shift her away from the boys protectively.

“I’m done my part for cleaning so she and I will be studying in my room.”

“You mean our room?” Scaramouche chided.

“You’re not allowed in there when she’s here.”

“Hey! I paid for most of this dorm!”

“Please, Scara. It’s a school project.”

“I’ll be quiet and not bother you guys I promise.”

“Fine. Finish cleaning up first.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Scaramouche was shooed away to do his chores by Xiao’s two other roommates as Xiao lead the way to his shared room.

He gave her a small bed-desk for her to put her things on top of while he worked at his own desk.

“I’m not gonna lie, we already got through a lot of the first part of this project and the first check-in isn’t until a week from now. Do you want to just finish everything for the check-in today so we can focus on other things next week?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, staring at their extensive amounts of research and notes that have been compiled into the document from the last few days.

The two powered through the next few hours finalizing the first report of their three-part project. Xiao’s three other roommates occasionally popped in to check on them and bring various cups of water, and teas. In Scaramouche’s case, it was often to bother either of the two and steal a few crackers. In the end, they successfully finished the draft.

“Oh man, my back hurts.” Y/N stretched in her spot as she closed her laptop.

“You should’ve told me. I would’ve swapped seats with you.”

“Nah, it’s alright. I didn’t want to ruin the momentum we had.”

Xiao looked at his clock. 4:49 p.m. “Do you want to see the Pokémon game? How long do you plan on staying?”

“Of course I want to see the game! I can leave whenever so it doesn’t really matter to me. Why? When do you want to kick me out?” Y/N raised her eyebrow teasingly at him.

He let out a chuckle. “You can stay for days if you wanted to and I still wouldn’t mind your company.”

“Ha ha very funny. I’d miss Yanfei and Hu Tao too much of you kept me hostage like that.”

“Do you want to at least stay for dinner? I’m sure the guys won’t mind and I can walk you home after.”

“Sure, why not.”

—

act 2, scene 2

the three friends have been p much attached by the hip since high school

chef scaramouche is canon I promise

xiao (and a few of the other anemo boys) play(s) league. make of that info what you will.

—

taglist —

@ashhh-14 @sanghyuksgasolinestationscream @yuminako @bananasquash @scaramoo @lovely028 @apinu @yukii-1 @ttalgi @yelleloww

—

#[smau — hey are you listening?]#genshin college au #genshin impact x reader #genshin smau #genshin xiao #xiao smau #xiao x reader #xiao #genshin #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #xiao x you #xiao x y/n #genshin impact xiao

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lesbianreaderidk · 8 months

Text

mha females x nb reader incorrect quotes (pt 2)

i didn't realize that this has mostly mina and kyoka with the reader-

I love writing tsu being passive aggressive

Mina, talking about Y/N: WHAT THE FUCK I WAS ARGUING WITH THEM AND I SAID “OOH YOU WANNA KISS ME SO BAD” AND GUESS WHAT? THEY DID. THEY KISSED ME. WHAT THE FUCK WHAT DO I DO.

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Y/N: My crush isn’t picking up on my hints. Momo: What hints have you given them? Y/N: Well, I think about them a lot. Y/N: And sometimes I even think about talking to them.

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Momo: Ooh, somebody has a crush Kyoka: Pfft, I don’t have a crush on Y/N I just think they’re cool, it’s not like I stay up at night thinking about them. Later that night Kyoka, very much awake: Uh oh.

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Y/N: I love you. Tsu, not paying attention: What was that? Y/N: I said I’m selling you to the zOo-

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Momo: Would you guys be there for me if I was going through something? Kyoka: Nope, absolutely not. Toga: I hope it sucks, whatever you're going through. Mina: I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life. Y/N: I hope you reach out to me so I can ignore you. Tsu: I can't wait to go to your funeral, knowing I could've changed that outcome

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Mina: Dumbest scar stories, go! Toga: I burned my tongue once drinking tea. Momo: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and it burned. Ochako: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade. Kyoka: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it in my hand and I got a really bad burn. Y/N: This entire class has given me emotional and mental scars

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Kyoka: Just a minute. I need to go take out the trash. Y/N: Oh. We're going out? Kyoka: Wh…

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Mina, about Y/N: Can I tell them they look nice? Momo: Sure. Mina: Can I tell them I respect them? Momo: Maybe, if they ask. Mina: Should I show them an oil painting I made of us surrounded by our three cats and four dogs? Momo: … Momo: I’d save that for later.

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Ochako: How the hell did you crash the car?! Y/N: So I was just driving today, right? And my navigation told me to go straight. Y/N: I was like "woah, that's homophobic". Instead, I went gay. And, THAT'S when I got into an accident. Ochako: … Toga, with a proud smile: And THAT'S who I'm in love with, ladies and gentlemen.

Ochako: HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE?

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Y/N is telling a story Kyoka: Wow, Y/N, this story has everything! Action! Adventure! Romance! Mina: Romance? Kyoka: I have a crush on them.

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Y/N: I don't know how to tell you this, but… I love you. Tsu: That's great, Y/N. Especially considering the fact we've been married for 6 fucking years.

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Shigaraki: So anyways have y'all seen Toga? Twice: I think they went in Y/N's room 'studying'. Dabi: Doubt that. I heard groans there. Meanwhile in Y/N's room Toga & Y/N, fighting:

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Y/N: Tsu and I are no longer friends. Tsu: Y/N THAT IS THE WORST WAY TO TELL PEOPLE THAT WE’RE DATING!

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Mina: angrily presses Y/N against a wall WHERE'S THE MONEY?! Y/N: … Y/N: Are we about to kiss-

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Y/N comes home absolutely drunk, undresses, and stands in Momo's bedroom. Momo: Babe, are you.. coming to bed? Y/N: No thank you, I’m sure you’re lovely but I have a girlfriend. Y/N: Lies on the ground and falls asleep Momo: …

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Tsu: Stop doing that. Y/N: Stop doing what? Tsu: Saying things that make me wanna kiss the hell out of you.

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Definitely doing more of these (if anyone wants a certain fandom I can certainly do that) :]

#bnha x reader #kyoka jirou x reader #momo yaoyorozu x reader #ochako x reader #toga x reader #tsuyu x reader #mina ashido x reader #incorrect quotes

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pandoa · 2 years

Note

Howdy do! Congrats on your 100 followers!👍 For the event, I'd like red roses and anemones with Leona Kingscholar x fem! reader, please! In a romantic fairytale setting, too! Please and thank you!😊

Red roses ~ “i’m afraid your existence in my life has tremendously done wonders to my racing heart. i may have to ask for yours in return”

Anemones ~ “just take my hand. don’t you dare second guess yourself”

~leona kingscholar x gender neutral reader~ ~royalty!au but leona is still a prince lol~

warnings: one curse word because this is leona and i'm sure he'd drop f-bombs on a daily basis

tysm!! this was so fun to write and i hope you don't mind it being a royalty au! it's just that when someone says "fairytale" i think of the classic princes and fairies and all of that lmao- hope you like it! edit: sorry! i forgot to add that i only write gender neutral readers, my apologies-

♡the lions run at night♡

Despite being a prince in his brother’s precious kingdom, Leona was more of a phantom in the shadows with the way he appeared and disappeared throughout the day, avoiding the incessant duties the royal family was expected to complete as leaders of the kingdom. If Leona wasn’t king, then what was the point in working in a position he did not wish to have? He’d much rather doze off in the palace’s serene gardens or order around his gentleman-in-waiting, Ruggie Bucchi, rather than waste his days in a drab, old meeting room with nobles who were only there to suck up to the king’s power through Leona. It sickened him and sent a bile taste to the back of his throat. Being around those leeching nobles, he means. Each one wanted the same as the last: money, control, the king’s place at the throne—you know, the usual needy desires a noble can have.

Although, the young prince of Sunset Savanna had come to realize that you had been drastically different. As the heir to a dukedom in a far off land, you were a common visitor at the Kingscholar’s palace, with you attending each and every meeting, ball, and social gathering his brother’s kingdom had to offer. You were kind, so intelligent, an overachiever in every way possible, took part in royal gatherings, and—

It pissed him off. Every smile on your face was fake, every word you spoke was hollow, and each thing you did felt so… manipulated. Like you were a marionette while your dukedom was the puppeteer. The picture perfect heir to a controlling duchy. Leona could see right past your goody-goody facade and he hated it. He despised the way you two had been chained to the orders of your families, despised the way you barely showed any authentic emotions, and despised the fact that you both had been drowning in your own misery.

Leona wanted to change that.

And so, lazily pulling you along the long, barren halls of the grandiose palace, the prince of Sunset Savanna guided you away from royal grounds and into a mystical forest adjacent to the Kingscholar’s castle. The forest was filled with enchanting creatures and flowers alike, with pixies, magical butterflies, mysterious mushrooms, and plentiful groups of fairies adorning the forest trees with golden dust that looked like heaven. It was like a dream you wished would never end.

“I’m leaving this godforsaken place, and you’re coming with me,” Leona declared, interrupting your entranced state.

“Wait, what? Why me all of a sudden?”

Leona immediately stopped in his tracks at your words. There was no way you could be so clueless, right? I mean, you were the only other person he spoke to in the palace and the only noble he genuinely enjoyed speaking to! Were you also so blind to his obvious stares and glances back at every ball you both would attend?

The young prince sighed and thought to himself. Wow, all of these brains, but you can’t tell when a guy likes you? Pfft— The whole ordeal was laughable, really, but he realized that now was not the time to tease you about it. Maybe later, he supposed. After he dealt with your airheaded self.

“Ugh, fuck it! I can’t take it anymore,” Leona said as he gently grasped your shoulders to make you face him, while gradually inching closer to your figure intimately. His actions were so tense that even the fae flying around you two halted in the jittery energy the prince had exposed. This was completely unlike him, and he knew it. But since when did falling in love ever make sense, hm?

Leona held your body close to his as his emerald eyes bore into your own colored ones. “I’m afraid your existence in my life has tremendously done wonders to my racing heart. It’s not fair. It was never fair. I may have to ask for yours in return.”

“Leona, I—”

"Just take my hand, herbivor. Don't you dare second guess yourself and come with me. I know you hate this place just as much as I do.”

Perhaps a knight in shining armor isn’t all a tale needs to be saved. Perhaps what it truly needs is two suffocating souls, lost and bleary, finding each other in the masses and pulling one another out of the shadows they had found themselves in. There was no sole “savior” because the two souls would save each other.

A happily ever after only you and Leona could create for yourselves.

a/n: why is leona so fun to write for he just has that perfect "i hate you but i love you" energy, i personally don't even like him all that much but his fics are always so mMMMMM-

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst imagines #gender neutral reader #leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona x reader #twst leona #leona twst #leona twisted wonderland #savanaclaw #blossom grove prompt event

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stutterfly · 2 years

Text

Swipe Right 06 | Overheating | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 6.7K ish (I’m doing smaller chapters going forward)

Last time on SR05: Tension is at an all-time high, a side effect from crossing some lines and flirting indiscriminately. It complicates your newfound friendship with Jungkook. Things are definitely more blurry since you woke up alone in his bed.

CW & Other Tags: slow burn, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, sexual tension, grinding, daydreaming about that sweet sweet fantasy baby

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (6/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Six in the morning. Six in the morning on Monday. Whose idea was this?

You’re on your final lunge and you feel your stance wobble once again as you begin to sink down. Fuck past you for suggesting this. This is terrible. You hate everything.

“Slowly,” Jungkook is quick to remind you. “You got this.”

Despite his optimistic tone, his voice is an unavoidable irritant. Formality hasn’t been in question, no that’s not the problem here. He’s been a total professional: no wandering hands or eyes, just a firm encouraging tone with a laundry list of tasks, all of which seemed designed to drain you of all energy before the day has even begun.

You’ve been at this for a while on your own, but obviously lenient with intensity. Of course you’ve ignored bodyweight exercises. You’re at the gym. If you wanted to just do push-ups and lunges, you’d be at home not doing them. He’s the one with the muscles, so maybe he’s right as much as you hate to admit it. Maybe personal trainers are certified for a reason. As you struggle to maintain your balance and nearly topple over, you surmise the reason being they need everyone to know they basically have a degree in sadism.

With a quickness that shows your guilty need to be done with this activity, you bring yourself upright far too fast for his liking. He frowns, arms crossed as he watches your form, or lack thereof.

“Hold on. One more time.”

DEMON.

“Slowly come up. Like this.” He demonstrates again, eyes focused ahead. You watch as the exposed thickly carved muscles of his calf tense, awe overtakes envy in a rush to your brain. He pauses, his knee hovering above the floor before looking at you and gesturing towards his leg as he rises at a careful pace. “It’s about control.”

Pfft. I hate control. Look at my life. You think I have any of that?

“One more,” he says again. “Just one.”

Fighting the urge to roll your eyes, you do it like he demonstrated, albeit less stable.

“Nice work.” He holds his hand up for a high-five, which you tap if only to signify an end to this session. “Now we stretch.”

He’s already taking a mat out for you before you can protest. If he senses your irritability, he doesn’t let on. The difficulty you’re having keeping your energy up is a contributing factor, but the source remains your own emotional attachment to the man himself. Sunday morning you woke up alone with the foggy memory of trying to seduce him. There’s enough shame swirling around your body to steep and brew into a giant pot of dumb-bitch juice. The more you focus on the memories you can’t change, the more you start to panic.

All this dumb bitch juice makes it hard to focus... But isn’t it made from concentrate?

Your internal joke brings a small smile to your lips. It pushes the panic into the past where it can’t hurt you now. Humorous deflection is a coping skill right? As you finally drag yourself over to where he’s waiting, you notice Jungkook smiles like a big puppy. Your insides churn. He probably thought you were smiling at him. You purse your lips and follow his lead into performing cooldown stretches.

It's not until you're down on your back with your ankle on your knee that you allow yourself to glance at his face. He’s focused on his own stretching, which gives you a heartbreakingly beautiful view of his profile. Instead of using this time to deepen your own stretch, you study his features. Beads of sweat behind his ear, the loop and stud embedded at the base of his earlobe, and the several empty holes above them and you quickly count them. Does he really have six? The sharp outline of his jaw leads your eyes to his chin, where they quickly follow the slope of his deep-pink parted lips up the flat tip of his nose and the large curve above it.

“Alright. Last stretch.”

There’s no time to think about the implications of such a shape because Jungkook hops to his feet. You sit up, eager to block his view from such a vulnerable double-chin position as he rounds the mat you’re on.

“Ah, no. Lay on your back. You’re gonna raise your leg,” he coaches.

You tick your jaw and lean back on your elbows, not allowing yourself to fall completely on your back when he’s standing right there. Slowly your bent leg rises in a half-assed attempt to please him. He grabs the bottom of your pitifully hovering sneaker.

“Straighten,” he says, guiding your leg up with a hand on your knee to keep it in line. “Like that.”

The burn travels up your hamstring. Skepticism erodes as your muscles relax and you lay flat against the mat. He’s been professional this whole time. It’s just your own stress and confusion getting the better of you. It’s not his fault your mind is in the gutter. Everything is fine.

“Feel okay?” he asks, leaning forward to meet your gaze.

Strands of hair fall out from behind his ear as he looks down at you. Suddenly everything is not fine. Your cheeks burn and you forget how to articulate your thoughts as lurid fantasies begin to creep into your brain. So this is how he’d look, huh? Great. Way to give your inner crush some fuel for that fire. You might as well be back in his room, sucking on his fingers.

If he leaned over he’d look like— He’d sound like— Oh fuck. He knows. Stop thinking about it. Stoppit.

“More? Less?” he guesses aloud while gently pressing your leg further towards your chest and then letting up. “We’re trying to find the sweet spot.”

Is he fucking with you? He must be.

“Shouldn’t be painful,” he continues, lightly testing the tension in your leg. “Just a satisfying stretch.”

Every word makes your face hotter and the blood rushing through your ears even louder. He knows how this sounds right? He has to know.

Your silence causes his big brown eyes to regard you with curiosity. “Is it uncomfortable?”

“It’s good,” you say, all too quickly for it to be genuine but it seems to satisfy his concerns.

Finally he lowers your leg and motions for you to lift the other. One of his hands clasps around the back of your ankle while the other supports your knee. He starts to carefully press your leg towards your chest but lessens the pressure the moment you inhale sharply through your nose.

“Bodies aren’t symmetrical. Sometimes stuff works differently on each side and that’s okay. It’s about finding the spot that works for you. If it’s tighter on this side that’s okay. Is here good?”

“Little more,” you mumble, trying your best to ignore the fire in your face. When he adjusts the position, you feel that sweet perfect stretch he’s been talking about. “Oh, right there.”

His fingers tighten over your knee and dig into the soft flesh of your thigh for a brief moment. It’s gone before you can guess if you imagined it or perhaps it was some sort of spasm in your own muscle.

“Don’t hold your breath.”

He’s said that line a lot to clients over the years during sessions, but for the first time he’s speaking to himself. Immediately you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and it serves to cover his own exhale. There’s a complicated tension between the pair of you and there has been for a while. This certainly isn’t helping assuage it right now, but he’s hopeful with time it will get easier to navigate.

“Alright, that’s it. Nice work. You made it through.”

He offers his hand and you clasp your own in it with a smile. Although it seems effortless, his biceps bulge as he swiftly brings you to your feet. It takes active brainpower to immediately release his hand instead of holding on for comfort. The way you snap your hand away while emanating such a warm smile is a perfect example of the dichotomy wrestling your psyche. If he notices, he says nothing. The water bottle nearby doesn’t seem to be enough to quench your thirst. Unsurprising, considering the way your mind wanders.

“So, what do you think? Same time tomorrow?” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet when you look back; it’s hard to draw the line between enthusiasm and anxiety. Maybe he notices more than you think. Maybe you’re reading into his fidgety nature far too much.

“Sure.” You pop the lid closed on your bottle and flash him a half-smile. “I’ll text you later?”

He gives you a nod and the warmth of his smile lights his face. “Looking forward to it.”

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

There’s an awkward pause as you consider going in for a hug. Then you mull over the possibility of a handshake, high-five, or a fist-bump. Instead you land on a delayed, dorky wax-on wax-off “wave.” Cool. Gonna be thinking about that awkward karate kid exchange all day. Can the floor please melt your legs down to stumpy bones so you’d have something else to think about? That’d be great.

He crosses his arms with a sense of pride as he watches you hurriedly make your way towards the lockers. That could have gone much worse. You didn’t even ask for your sweater. Good. He didn’t bring it.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You look down at your hands and knock your gloves together, trying to make sure your fingers are positioned correctly within. It’s hard to get used to the cumbersome coverings. They weigh your hands down and draw attention to the lack of strength in your wrists. Even though you know the basic motion, the multiple warnings you’d received about damaging your wrist are all you can think about. You decide it’s best not to practice the motion until you can watch someone else do it first.

The class is bigger than expected, which only adds to the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. For some reason the lack of shoes makes you feel more exposed. You don’t need strangers looking at your feet. Thankfully there are a lot of bags for you to choose from and the back corner of the room seems relatively secluded. You awkwardly let your water bottle roll away from your armpit and trap it between your gloves to set it on the floor nearby. Taking a deep breath, you focus on the mirror at the front of the room and wait for the instructor to arrive.

Ignoring the chatter of other attendees’ conversations, you do your best to tell yourself no one is looking at you and no one’s talking about you. You’re not interesting enough to talk about. You repeatedly chant this to yourself, but still you feel like the subject of every conversation surrounding you. Why couldn’t Jennie or Namjoon just come to the one class with you? It seemed so doable after work, especially with how good you feel after this morning’s first session with Jungkook. But now you’re not so sure you should be here.

Confidence, you remind yourself. You’re doing this to instill confidence. Embracing change and exploring the unknown has never been your forte. It’s unsettling to try something new by yourself. All your life you’ve felt like an outsider when performing any physical activity. No matter the sport, you always seem to feel like you’re doing it wrong. A combination of grade school bullies and unempathetic PE teachers steered you towards a different path in life, a nerdier, less physically active life.

Any time you start to veer back in this direction, your body has a very visceral reaction. You get defensive in your discomfort, burdened by memories too embarrassing and upsetting to properly process. It’s no wonder that even as a full grown woman you still feel like that girl who’d cry in a bathroom stall after gym class. Your pulse quickens, your face heats up and tears threaten to spill from behind glassy eyes. Why did you make yourself do something sport-related? Morning training is one thing, but is this really something you think you can just do by yourself?

Taking a deep breath, you begin to count the bags in the room; it’s all you can do to keep yourself from bolting before the class even starts. Punching things is probably just what you need to deal with these feelings. Just as your eyes reach the bag nearest the door, a familiar face walks past the threshold.

Jungkook is clad in a black muscle shirt and basketball shorts to match, and his hair is tied back into the world's tiniest, pristine ponytail. While he grins and greets the other students in the room, you slink behind the hanging bag you’ve chosen to be your partner for the night, hoping it will block you from his sight. He doesn’t teach kickboxing; you checked. Attempts will be made to combust on the spot if he announces he’s covering for the instructor.

There’s an unmistakably Jungkook cackle. You peek around the bag just in time to watch a girl punch him in the arm. He feigns being hurt, whining that he needs an ice pack for the pain. She feels up his arm and gives his bicep a squeeze, calling him out for faking. He grins that stupid grin you hate so much: the one where he shows off his teeth and his nose is outlined by wrinkled skin.

She offers to make it up to him with dinner and you tune out the rest with a sigh, feeling irritated that everywhere he goes women seem to throw themselves at him. You’re mad at yourself for letting it bother you. It’s not her fault he’s so attractive. It’s not her fault he didn’t fuck you this weekend. It’s all so complicated with him, and it’s not her fault, but still. You’re jealous.

There has to be a way forward, a way you can let this go. Let him go. He was never yours anyway. Another deep breath escapes your mouth. At least your rooted anxiety over the newness of this class seems to be replaced with a comfortable irritation. Maybe you can channel that energy into this activity.

People are already starting to warm up, delivering soft punches and kicks to their bags. You awkwardly stand behind yours without a clue as to what you should be doing other than waiting. Much to your dismay Jungkook crosses the room, the pads of his bare feet silent until he stops two bags in front of you. He sets his water bottle down, a focused look on his face as he begins to wrap his hands in a pretty black and red band. He expertly covers his hand, entrancing you with the circular motion.

He paces as he wraps, sparing a quick glance towards the back of the room. He does a double take, frozen in place as he stares at you. For a second you think he’s imitating a statue, but then he blinks and a cloyingly sweet smile graces his lips. It makes you wish you’d walked out when you had the chance.

“Princess!” His exclamation draws far too many eyes to your corner. “Surprised you’re here after this morning.”

You don’t dare look around the room to see if flirty girl is giving you the stink eye. It’s enough just to feel the gaze of others heating your face like a million laser pointers.

“What are you doing here?” you grumble, hiding behind the bag.

He laughs, holding his unwrapped hand up as if to proclaim his innocence. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I’ve been coming to this class for the last two years. You’re the newbie here.”

You purse your lips, feeling foolish. Of course Jungkook takes advantage of the training programs offered here. He has his own schedule that has nothing to do with you. Still…

You stiffen as you watch his eyes rake over your attire. He hums thoughtfully.

“W-What?” Insecurity clings to you in all the places your clothing does too.

“Mm. Nothing.”

“What.” You make sure to enunciate the word for maximum transparency of your irritability.

“Didn’t peg you as a boxer. First time?” he asks while flexing his fingers to test the fit.

You fold your arm across your chest and hug your elbow with your giant glove, offering a small nod. He briefly pokes his tongue into his cheek. Is that a sore spot? He got a small taste of your confidence level regarding exercise this morning, or lack thereof. Maybe that’s something he can help you with.

“Don’t worry. It’s really fun. Addicting.” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and his smile puts you at ease.

The instructor walks in and introduces herself, sparing you from having to say more. She turns on some high energy music and has you all doing burpees as a warm up. You already want to die. Apparently you’re not the only newbie here today so she teaches the class how to stand while performing the three main techniques for throwing a punch: jab, cross, and hook.

You make yourself as unassuming as possible as you try to get the hang of each technique. Ten minutes in, you’re out of breath and sweating buckets. The instructor, Dara, watches you a couple times and fixes your weak elbows, asks you to use more force on the bag, and tells you “don’t forget to breathe,” like you’re not out here gasping for air.

When it’s time for a water break, Jungkook turns to look back at you. He looks every bit as sweaty as you feel.

“Doing okay?” He picks up his water bottle and puts his whole mouth over the wide opening to drink.

You nod between heavy pants and free one of your sweaty hands from the confines of the glove. “Yeah… Fine… You...?”

You focus on your own bottle. It’s like you can’t get the liquid into your mouth fast enough. You try to breathe it in like oxygen and subsequently choke out a couple wet coughs. He looks up from his shirt, which he’s folded up to wipe the sweat from his face. The set of heavy glistening creases lining his stomach claim your attention. You choke again for another reason entirely.

“You sure?” he asks, concerned with your apparent inability to breathe like a normal human.

“Just tried to inhale my water. It’s fine,” you joke, walking around your bag until you can no longer see any part of the sculpted perfection that is his body.

“Ah, I’m tired,” he groans. He circles his bag, smoothing unruly wisps of damp black hair from his forehead. “Halfway there though.”

“Hah, only half?” Despite your best attempt to sound confident, your breathlessness betrays your tone. Thank fuck he pulled his shirt back down.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna give up,” he teases, reaching across to poke your sweaty arm.

“No!” You’re quick to put your glove back on just as the instructor starts the music again.

“Good. You’re doing really well.” He makes sure you can see his smile and wink before he turns back to his bag and starts running through the combos again.

Your anxiety heightens when the instructor tells everyone to find a partner to practice kicks. You’ve been circling the bag to get the hang of moving while hitting, so you look over your shoulder and purse your lips. Jungkook’s eyes are as big as they are nervous when you find them. Being that he’s the only person you know, he seems the logical choice. You don’t want to talk to a stranger. Plus, if you’re being honest you’d rather pair with him before flirty girl can snatch him up.

He’s frozen. He’s used to pairing with the teacher: the teacher that can easily bench twice her bodyweight. You’re giving him those deer-in-the-headlights eyes and it’s hard to look away. He’s never been more terrified of hurting someone.

“Jungkook, do you wanna…?” The uncertainty in your voice makes your own ears flush with the same heat radiating from your cheeks.

Everyone else is already kicking away. He looks uncomfortable even as he nods and forces a smile. He holds the bag steady for you as you practice, though his eyes look vacant. You practice for a few minutes but the exertion has taken a lot out of you. Aren’t you supposed to trade off?

“Kook.” You sigh when he doesn’t respond, delivering your combo to the bag without a care in the world regarding your form.

Bap-bap-bap.

“Jungkook.” Again you practice the combo, this time clumsily adding the two kicks at the end.

Bap-bap-bap… Bap... Bap.

The chains linking the bag to the ceiling rattle but the bag itself barely sways with the way he’s holding it. Why is this so hard? Wiping the sweat from your brow, you tap his arm.

“Hey.”

He snaps out of his daze but continues to stare blankly at you. “Hmm?”

“Can we switch off?” you ask, fighting through your wheezing.

He nods, wetting his lips and moving around the bag. He looks pissed when his fist makes contact. Part of you shudders at the intensity of the motion, the other part fixates on his face as you’re pushed back by the force. Luckily the instructor swoops in at the last minute to keep the bag from smashing you in the face.

Jungkook seems to visibly relax at her intervention. After showing you how to hold, she lets you take the bag back on your own. He starts delivering heavier blows that cause the bag to sway slightly, but you're determined to keep it as steady as possible. You can take it. You want him to know you can absolutely take it.

By the end of class you're on the floor pretending to stretch but in reality you want an excuse to lay down and never get up again. As the rest of the students file out one by one, you're left staring at the flood lights above with a thigh crossed over your knee. Your chest is on fire and it feels like your ribs are going to crack open, chest-burster style. You think you're alone until Jungkook's voice calls out to you.

"You should sit up." His face blocks out the light as he peers down at you, strands of his hair. He offers a hand but you wave him off.

"Just let me die here,” you wheeze. “How can my chest be so sore? My arms should be sore, right?"

"You're not breathing when you hit."

You furrow your brow and turn your head as he walks away. “What?”

"Every time you hit you have to exhale. Like this." He takes a moment to demonstrate.

You hadn't heard them with the loud music and other sounds of practice filling the room, but now they're clear as day. Each time his fists make contact with the bag, he releases a tiny exhale that almost sounds like a breathy, restrained groan. Each one feels like an impact to your own gut.

"It's why some people yell when they hit. You were holding in every breath, every sound. I could tell. You gotta let it out."

"Why didn't you say anything?" you mumble, slowly sitting up and scooting back against the wall.

"Dara told you to breathe but you weren't getting it. I made the same mistake when I started. After that first session, I never made it again. You won’t either, right?”

You raise your eyebrows and nod in thoughtful agreement. Breathing is way too difficult to be an automatic thing right now so you force the air through your lungs and watch him take a few more powerful swings at the bag.

“You know, the reason I've stuck with this class for so long is because it makes me feel free. Weightless. There’s so much that used to make me feel weak and now it’s like…” He hums thoughtfully and presses an open palm to the bag. “I don’t carry it with me every day. It all spills out so I don’t have to.”

“Sounds like there’s a story there,” you say, legs outstretched.

“I’m not some character with a tragic backstory,” he says with a laugh, softly tapping against the bag a couple times. “Waiting to be revealed.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine. I just mean there’s no real secret,” he interrupts your fumbling words. “I used to be really timid and shy.”

You scoff and bring yourself to your feet. “Yeah right.”

“For real.” He pauses to let you take a few swings at the bag and notes your form. “Try to relax your stance, though.” He performs the motion slowly to demonstrate. “Confidence only came when I started considering who I am, who I want to be, and merging them together.”

“And you figured all that out?” you question, trying to mimic his posture. “Sounds fake.”

He shakes his head, rounding the bag to stand beside you. “Not at all. It’s something I’m still working on. Like you and that left hook combo.”

Self-consciousness sinks in with him so close, and you show off what little you’ve gleaned from watching him. You push past the clunky unnatural feeling in your limbs to force them into a fluid motion.

He cocks his head to the side. “Slow it down a bit and show me again?”

Swallowing down your pride, you go through the process again, this time painfully slow. “Ah, right there. Try to drop your shoulders a little, and keep this up.” He lifts the tip of your elbow with the pad of his finger.

“Like this?” you demonstrate the motion with uncertainty.

He hums a pleased sound. “Better.”

You fall into a pattern of sharing jabs at the bag.

“So, how did you go from shy guy to…”

“To...?” he wonders, landing a soft combo against the firm surface while quirking a brow at you.

“To someone who makes bets,” you pause to release a couple blows of your own, “about getting into girls’ pants.”

A loud sound forces its way through the ring his lips make. “Long story short? I grew up and girls paid more attention to me. I got used to it.”

There has to be more to it so you take your turn and ask the burning question on your mind. “Can I hear the short story long?"

His elbow drops a bit as he lightly taps the bag, clearly caught off guard. You reach out for his arm just as he’s retracting it.

“Slow down and show me again?” you interject before he can find the words to begin.

When he extends his arm again you press your finger against his elbow similar to his earlier motion. As soon as his eyes are on yours, his face relaxes into a warm smile.

“Helping me keep it up?”

Licking your lips in response is unintentional, but it undoubtedly makes no difference in his perception. “Just returning the favor.”

He sweeps the back of his wrist over his forehead and sighs, mumbling something indiscernible under his breath.

“What?” you ask, truly wondering.

He looks from the bag to you and shakes his head. It’s a dangerous line to walk yet you’re both sprinting toward some imaginary goal anyway. He doesn’t even know what that goal might be, but it seems you’re both eager to reach it first.

Maybe you want to push him over the edge, maybe he’s hoping the same from you. It doesn’t matter. He knows this is the part where he’s supposed to answer and reveal whatever kind of tragedy you think might be lurking amongst his past. The problem is it doesn’t exist.

Still. He flirts, and you flirt back. Normally he’d know how to take it from here, but there are rules in this case. He’d break every one of them if it meant relief from this tension. If he could indulge in you tonight and say fuck tomorrow without consequence, he’d do it in a heartbeat.

Future Jungkook’s problems tend to have a lasting effect on present Jungkook so he reasons there’s benefits to reap from abstaining from impulsivity. Keep walking those fine lines.

“I was just curious. You don’t need to tell me,” you offer, trying out another hook against the bag. Still feels weird. Weirder than this dance with Jungkook.

“Shoulders and hips should be down,” he mumbles again, instinctively reaching out to fix your form. “Like this.”

His palms perch on your shoulders and gently press down. When your back stiffens, so does he, an apology already at his lips for invading your space. Before he can step back you stop him.

“No, it’s fine. Show me.” You lift his hand in yours and aim towards the bag. “Guide me?”

Lines. What are lines? How does he feed them? How does he not cross them? You don’t seem to have a problem. So why does he? Perhaps he could defuse the bomb of his frustration with a heartfelt story, or distract with some kind of history you might find relatable. Instead he finds himself considering how best to blow it all to hell.

Sweat-drenched clothes be damned. He slides his hand over your shoulder and taps the back of your calf with his big toe. “Move this forward a little.”

Your foot inches towards the bag while his arm leads yours in a slow swing.

“Like...”

Bap.

“...this.”

His fist makes contact with the bag with yours secured beneath. His other hand slips over the sheen of your knuckles, directing another slow hit to the bag. The effortless glide of his wet skin against yours should feel disgusting. The heat should feel unbearable. You’re so tired, so overheated, so out of breath, and sore, and sickeningly slick in more ways than one. Your body should be telling you to rest, yet it’s taking everything you have to not give in to the instinct to rub yourself against him like some kind of horny slug.

The weight of his hot, sticky chest clings to your back. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks. “See the angle of your wrist? You turn it like this. Strong elbows, strong wrists, relaxed shoulders.”

It’s hard to tell if your legs wobble because of the unfamiliar stance, a lingering weakness from the intense workout, or just your lingering weakness for him. You don’t deny yourself the pleasure countering the weight of his chest with your back. He doesn’t pull away. You don’t pull away. It feels so… intimate.

“Is that all there is to it?” you wonder with a not so subtle wiggle of your ass.

Wetting his lips, he drops his chin down and lowers the tone of his voice.

“There’s also … relaxed hips,” he whispers, dropping his hands to your waist.

The statement is pocked with grit, reminiscent of a sleepy morning in bed. Avoiding the sun. Rolling over. Curling up beneath the warmth of sheets. The weekend comes rushing back in an instant. His arms around you, leg propped up over yours, clinging to your form like he'd never let you go. His fingers in your mouth, bobbing ever so slowly while you suck on them. The shaky breath at your ear, wishing he'd fuck you like that. Nice and slow.

He thumbs your shirt and drums his fingertips over your hips. He slots a thigh between your legs and all but dares you to rest your cunt there. “Strong legs.”

“How strong?” you ask, a slight waver in your tone.

Everything is jelly. You might as well give in to your inner slug. The bulging muscles above his knee welcome the heat of your cunt. The entire room feels like a thousand degrees. Can he tell the difference between your sweat and arousal? While you can’t be sure of the ratio at this point, the urge to feel him beats any embarrassment into submission. It feels good. It feels so good.

“Very.” His fingers dig into your sides and press your hips down to better connect with his thigh.

He can feel you. Hot. Sweaty. Breathless. There’s no time to think or dwell on the best way forward. His dick is hard and you’re here. You’re so fucking hot like this. He rocks his hips in time with yours and watches with satisfaction as your lips part like you’re about to make noise. All he wants to do is spin you around so he can fuck you against the bag. That’s crossing the line though, isn’t it? Not the time. Not the place. If it was…

He drags his nose along your neck with a deep inhale. “I can show you.”

You whimper his name so quietly, so needy, and fuck he’s hard. It would be so easy to take you to his car and give you what you both want. Suddenly he knows he’s in trouble. Where’s the line? Where’s the fucking line? He doesn’t want to stop, but that probably means he should.

“We should go.” He half-groans, half-sighs as he steps back.

The embarrassment hit is immediate. As he shifts, you compose yourself into a publicly appropriate stance. Where does your self-control go when it comes to him? It’s like he’s magnetic. You know better, but you’re drawn to him. You want him. Surely he can’t hurt you twice, especially now, right?

“It seems like you got it now,” he says quietly.

You clear your throat as though it might cleanse the heat from your face. You regain your footing well enough to spin around and assess the situation. Jungkook is already facing away but you can tell he’s adjusting the waistband to his shorts. Proof. Your stomach soars like you’re on a rollercoaster. There’s a certain power you only feel when you know for a fact you’ve caused a boner.

“Don’t want to get locked in after dark,” he jokes, gathering his things.

Don’t you? It’s a thought you share, but refuse to say aloud.

“Um…”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “That was…”

“Fun,” you finish at the same time he says “dumb.”

His eyes widen and he looks down at the floor, a coy smile curling the edges of his mouth.

“Dumb,” you attempt to cover. “I said dumb. No, I—Same. Bad. Hormone. Dumb things. We— Y’know… Let’s just… forget about it. Cool?”

“Cool,” he says, desperately trying to not burst into laughter. You’re so endearingly awkward and cute and wonderful. Listening to you speak after you get embarrassed is becoming his new favorite hobby. It’s adorable.

You kneel beside your bag, awkwardly putting on your shoes at a weird angle. No way you’re sitting with your legs spread open right now. “I’ll keep practicing.”

“Practice is good. Just…” he pauses thoughtfully, “remember to breathe. This is one of the few places where you can make as much noise as you want. Take up space. Let out whatever is bothering you and leave it at the bag. Stop worrying someone is judging you. Just let it out. We all need this for different reasons. We're all focused on relieving our own stress. And this works. You’re welcome here. This is your space. Claim it."

Blinking a few times, you’re nearly awestruck into silence. A nervous weak laugh escapes you. “That sounded almost wise. Where did Jungkook go?”

He wipes down his slick face with the inside of his shirt with a laugh. It doesn't really help this time since it too is covered in sweat. If you didn’t know better you might guess he’d just climbed out of a pool. Yet the proof is in the tiny puddle of sweat surrounding the bag the pair of you shared moments ago. Your eyes instinctively dart to his waistband. Are you disappointed or relieved to find nothing but a thin line of hair trailing down from his navel?

"Ugh, I need a shower," he mumbles while stretching his feet out in front of him. He looks over at you suddenly and wiggles his eyebrows. "Wanna join me?"

You scoff. "And there he is."

The longer you sit, the more the adrenaline slows for your body to remind you of its exhaustion. The floor is starting to look like a good place to nap and your arm feels like it might not keep you upright much longer if you stay.

He jumps to his feet with a light chuckle and offers you a hand. "Kidding. You know I’m kidding. Come on. You're gonna need some sleep if you're gonna make our 5am sesh tomorrow."

You roll your eyes and grasp his hand with both of yours. "Ew. Don't call it a sesh."

He brings you up faster than anticipated. Your form collides with his, legs definitely more jell-o than flesh and bone right now, knees threatening to immediately buckle when he starts to let go. His laugh gets caught in his throat. Sore muscles flex tighter, warming his chest with a new shot of adrenaline.

One hand is still firmly clasped around yours, trapped between your bodies. His other hand gropes your sweat soaked shirt, long fingers digging into the small of your back. Your legs threaten to stay formless blobs the longer you remain so close. Even covered in sweat he looks so good. He smells so good. Why does his gross sweat smell so good? Pheromones be damned. That’s just not fair.

"… You good?” he asks, voice barely a whisper.

His hand remains at your back and you let it. Swallowing down a wave of butterflies that threaten to spring from your throat, you hum a weak sound of affirmation. His thumb kneads against the fabric of your shirt, massaging gentle circles into the flesh beneath. The butterflies gladly change course and head straight down to your cunt.

Goosebumps erupt across your body. Can he tell? An uneven breath struggles past your lips. The circles stop abruptly and the weight of his meaty palm meets your back. He doesn’t pull you closer, but god you wish he would at least once more tonight.

"This is a good shirt," he mumbles, his breath close enough to mingle with yours. "It's soft."

"Thanks. It was six dollars."

Why is that the only thing you can say? Lightheaded and anxious once again, you reach for his shoulder but your hand falls short, resting flat against his chest. His shirt is soaked through with sweat and you can feel the taut muscles beneath. It’s disgusting. It’s wonderful.

He laughs through his nose. ”Feeling mine now?”

Kiss him. Do it. Get it over with. Maybe this feeling will stop if you just—

"Gross. You should shower," you blurt, using his pecs to propel yourself backward with a push. Gelatin legs or no, you need to extricate yourself from this now. You’ve already done enough tonight.

"Wow," he scoffs, then laughs. “That’s true.”

“I mean I should shower too. Oof—” Chains rattle as you knock into one of the bags. You briefly regard it like you’re about to apologize, but quickly focus back on him. "We should shower.” You reach out to steady the bag so the chains aren’t so loud. “I mean. Not-Not together. Obviously. Like, separately. We both. I..."

“Yeah?”

He watches with raised eyebrows, bottom lip trapped beneath his teeth as he tries to hold back his smug grin. “Oh, go ahead. Finish your thought,” he encourages, allowing his grin to spread.

"I’m good. Good-Oh!” You back into another bag and reach to stop it from shaking as you scurry past it. “Night.”

"See you tomorrow!" he brightly calls after you.

How the fuck are you so cute?

Working out is a high in itself, but the one he feels right now is different. He almost feels invincible. Almost feels like it’s the right thing to do to chase after you. Almost like nothing can go wrong if he just gives in. Catching a glimpse of a dopey smile in the mirror gives him pause. It looks like trouble wearing his face.

He pokes his tongue into his cheek and pulls out his phone, searching for that dating app he downloaded. His chest may be light and buoyant, keeping him afloat in a sea of endorphins, but his legs are heavy with the weight of reality’s anchors. Distractions seem like a better option than mistakes.

#bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fic #bts fic #swipe right

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sixpossumsinatrenchcoat · 1 year

Text

Four More Years (ch 4/5)

Just posted the very emotional culmination of my sweet & silly lil Omori timeskip and now I am unraveled, incapacitated, generally bereft. If you enjoy dopamine please consider swinging by. Text preview below, story link below that!

At 10:34 PM, there’s a friendly patter on the door. Sunny wrenches it open with relief.

Kel looks tired, his smile a little faded. But he still brightens when he sees Sunny. “Hey, buddy! What’s going on? You miss me?”

“Yes. A lot.”

Kel looks surprised, and then pleased. “Pfft, well. Hey. Back at you.” He peers over Sunny’s shoulder. “...Where is everyone?”

“Gone. Having a nice night.”

“Aw,” Kel laughs, not unsympathetic. “And they left you all alone?”

Sunny nods grimly.

“Aw, Sunny!!! I woulda come sooner if I knew you were all on your lonesome!”

“It’s okay,” sighs Sunny, who’s being extremely brave. “I’m glad you’re here.”

When Kel grins, the fatigue washes off him a little. He smells a little like a sports bar and a lot like the YMCA, sweat and bleach and rubber. His hair is tied in a scruffy half-ponytail but a few locks have pulled loose, curling around his chin. He makes the whole room feel warmer.

But he also looks tired. Or… not tired exactly. He feels muted, his natural glow slightly dimmed. More than you’d expect from just getting worn out on the court. His smile isn’t lying, but it’s only about 80% honest. Maybe he’s taking the loss harder than usual?

Sunny grabs Kel by the wrist, yanks him toward one of the kitchen stools. “Are you okay?”

“Huh? Yeah, for sure! Why wouldn’t I be?”

Sunny shrugs. You tell me.

“It is all good, dude! I’m just, uh…” Kel’s left hand finds the back of his neck. “...I dunno. Probably a little tired. Sorry! I didn’t mean to kill the mood.”

Sunny has been having a neutral-to-poor night. If any mood could be flushed out of the brush, it deserved to be shot. “Don’t worry about it.”

Kel grins sheepishly, still rubbing the back of his neck.

Sunny’s frown deepens. Kel isn’t as obvious as Basil, but he’s nowhere near as sly as Hero. He’s obviously feeling down about something. But of course he’ll never bring it up.

That’s fine. Talking isn’t what either of them does best. Sunny gives Kel’s wrist a last squeeze and pads over to the French press.

“Sunny?? It’s—” Kel glances at the clock on the wall, a cracked wheel of oxidized copper that shouts a different birdcall every hour. “—10:40 at night???”

“It’s okay,” Sunny tells him. “It’s decaf.”

Kel watches, looking increasingly delighted, as Sunny brews a half a pot of decaf and then pulls out a carton of orange juice. He pours half of one and half of the other into his thermos, a tall black mug with a screw-on lid. But he doesn’t hand it over. He takes one sip and grimaces, mostly to make Kel laugh. Then he slips it into Basil’s backup backpack.

“Are we going on an adventure?” Kel really must be tired. He sounds almost as wary as he does excited.

“Just a small one.”

Sunny’s been saving this caper for a rainy day. Ideally, he would have scoped out the roof of his complex months ago. But Basil’s anxiety can be very occasionally inconvenient when exposed to even mildly life-threatening peril. The route Sunny scouted isn’t an escalator with a guardrail, but it’s not a particularly tricky climb. Basil just isn’t in the demographic.

Taking a page from Basil’s book, Sunny dumps a few more treats into the backpack, more or less at random. Then he hooks his keys onto his belt loop and looks at Kel.

“Are your motor skills impaired?” he asks seriously.

“Haha, whaaat! No way! Or, I mean… not… a lot? No more than if you didn’t get enough sleep.”

Sunny never gets enough sleep. “Cool.”

To get onto the roof, all you have to do is slip out the window onto the fire escape and climb a few ladders, till you hit the one that’s gated shut. Then just swing over the railing, scramble up the outside of the scaffolding, and hoist yourself over the gutter.

Sunny leads the way. He makes Kel hang back while he tests his weight, making sure he’s not leading them into a meat grinder. But the rusted metal holds. The only hitch comes in the form of a flurry of pigeons that explodes out from under the gutter, pelting Sunny with feathers and dust.

“Sunny!!!” Kel gasps.

But it’s fine. These days, when Sunny is overwhelmed, he doesn’t lash out or flinch away. If you don’t move, you can’t hurt anyone. He closes his eyes and tightens his hold and then the birds are gone.

He looks down at Kel. “Should be safe now,” he says calmly.

Kel’s eyes widen and he grins—a real one this time, wide and wild. “Right behind you!!”

The roof is everything Sunny hoped for. It's dusty and empty and high-up enough that when you look to the north, you can see a little sliver of the sea peeking between the high rises. There’s a big white trapezoid right in the middle, presumably the service entrance to the roof. The door is welded shut and the backside is a sloping plane of rough tile, but the sides are all empty white.

Sunny’s eye widens. A whole empty wall… A great white canvas pressed up against the sky, off anyone’s radar, and high above the cop cars wailing on the streets below. The possibilities are almost paralyzing.

Kel studies his face and then shakes his head, grinning crookedly. “Man, you are like, the coolest, you know that?”

Sunny gives him a baffled look. He hasn’t even done anything.

“I’m serious!! You’re just… It's like there's so much in your head that it all comes spilling out. Like you take all the bullshit, all this horrible pointless suffering and make it so everyone can see it, and so everyone who sees it can feel it. It’s—” Kel’s smile wilts at the edges. “I can’t even imagine, seeing like you.”

“I’m supposed to be cheering you up,” Sunny points out.

“Huh? Who says I need cheering up?”

Sunny’s frown deepens. No one said. Kel is just… muted. Like the light inside him needs a change of batteries. But he’s not sure that he knows how to say it.

“You’re just. Not as… bright? Still very bright,” he reassures him, when Kel’s eyes widen. “But, it’s—” He grimaces. “I don’t want you to lie.”

“Wh— I would never!!!”

“Not with words,” Sunny says, frustrated. “With—” He gestures at Kel’s stance, his easy smile. “Just. It’s okay if you’re not happy.”

He stops. Kel is looking at him with that ache in his eyes, even worse than when he first arrived. He looks lonely. But that doesn’t make any sense. Sunny is right here.

Sunny huffs impatiently. He’s not sure why he even tried doing this with words. That’s never been how he and Kel talked. He turns on his heel and wanders toward the northern edge of the roof, where you can see the fog rolling up the hill. Then he plunks himself down on the edge and flaps a hand at Kel.

“Come drink your horrible drink.” No one else is going to.

Kel chuckles and goes where Sunny wants him. “...I guess I maybe am a little off tonight, huh.”

Sunny gives him a look. Do you want to talk about it doesn’t work on Kel, because Kel never wants to talk about anything that might bum anyone out. “Talk about it.”

Kel snickers. “Aw, it’s nothing really. Or, I guess it’s a lot of little things?”

“Like what.”

“Man, you’re persistent tonight, huh?”

Sunny reaches into his borrowed backpack, silent, and hands Kel a slice of dried mango.

“...Are those just loose in there?”

Sunny nods.

Kel sputters a laugh and takes it. “Aw, I dunno, Sunny. It’s really pretty stupid.”

“Okay.” Feelings usually are.

Kel snickers, gnawing on the edge of his mango. If it were daytime, he could see clear to the ocean. But at night it’s lost to fog.

“I guess it’s just… It kinda feels like… everyone’s growing up? Like, figuring out what you want, and how you wanna live and stuff. And I’m the only one who’s just... not.”

“Aubrey is legally homeless,” Sunny points out.

“Yeah, cause she wants to, like… fuck the establishment, and blow up the IRS and shit!! Every day she looks more like herself! And Basil, hah, he’s—” Again, there’s that strange flash of hurt. “You know. Getting… everything he ever wanted, probably. And you!!!” He turns to Sunny with stars in his eyes. “God, you’re, like… taking all the cool shit in your head and pushing it out into the world and it is so exciting to watch, Sunny! Really!! It’s—I can’t believe how exciting it is, just watching you go around and look at things and make them important, just by seeing them.”

Kel drums his heels against the side of the building, his sparkle dimming a little.

“...You’re all so fun to watch, and I’m just kinda the same dumb kid as always. Like everyone’s running ahead, and I’m stuck trying to catch up.”

“But you’re the one who ran ahead.”

Kel blinks. “Huh?”

“When we were all—” Sunny gestures toward dissociative fugues, waking nightmares, drownings and stabbings and eyes gouged out. “You’re the only one who figured out how to live with yourself. On your own, without anyone’s help. And then you pulled us out after. It’s just that we’re finally catching up.”

“Yeah, but— No. Come on. That’s different. And anyway, it’s not like I was—” Kel hesitates. “Hey. When you were still… inside. Did you ever… Could you even hear me?”

Sunny’s head tilts. He heard Kel all night long, in Headspace. But that’s probably not what he means.

Kel looks out over the sleeping city. In the Glittering Harbor, you can only ever see the stars at twilight, after the sun’s slipped behind the world but before the fog has dragged its way onto the shore. But at night, you can see the city lights reflected in the clouds.

“...I used to talk to your door all the time, Sunny. All the time. For years, like maybe one day you were just gonna answer. It’s like— Even if I know something’s never gonna happen, I still can’t get over it.”

“But it did happen,” Sunny says, confused. “You brought me back.”

Kel laughs, but it's not a happy sound. It makes Sunny feel all upside-down and sideways. “Yeah. Yeah, maybe. Or—I don’t know. Maybe it just would’ve been some other—”

“No,” Sunny tells him firmly. “No one else could have done it. I would have died instead.” He doesn’t want to upset anyone, but it’s true. He was dying in that house. He was dying so slowly all the time, all the time he was awake. Every day he was a little less alive. He would have drowned in the bath, or got so confused and afraid that he would slide a knife between his ribs to make the nightmare stop. Or you’d fall down the stairs, Omori chimes in. You’d break your neck so you couldn’t move or call for help and then you’d starve down there, on the floor where it happened, and it would be weeks before anyone knew. “And—I didn’t hear you, at the door. Sorry. I was… not very awake. But I heard you in my dreams all the time. Sometimes even when I couldn’t find anyone else. So maybe some of it did get through. I don’t know. I don’t think about it very much.”

Kel is looking at him with surprise. Sunny feels a little surprised, too. It’s probably the most he’s said all at once in… He’s not sure how long.

“You saved me,” Sunny reminds him. “And brought us all back. And you’re doing fine, anyway.”

Kel sputters a laugh. “Aw, geez, Sunny. You always know just what to say.”

Sunny famously does not, but whatever. He studies Kel’s face and frowns. That laugh was honest, but Kel’s smile is lying again. “Are you sure there isn’t something else?”

“H-Huh?? I—” Kel looks away, toward the horizon. “Aw, I dunno. I mean. I guess I… don’t really wanna talk about it.”

Sunny can understand that. There are lots of things he doesn’t want to talk about. “Okay. Then… tell me what to paint up here.”

“Woah!!!” Kel yelps. “For real?”

He nods.

“Sunny??? That’s too much responsibility!! I don’t know the first thing about art!!”

Sunny rolls his eye. “Everyone knows about art." Art is just whatever makes you feel things. "Anyway, I’m the one who’ll paint it.”

“You’ve got me there,” Kel concedes. “Hmm… You could paint… a t-rex… that’s also a cyborg. A whole ranger squad of cyborg dinos!!”

“Were they recreated by science?” Sunny asks seriously. “Or did they survive the extinction event, and now they’re the dominant species?”

“Definitely the second one. Oh, oh, or you could paint Hector! Hector would be a great muse!”

“Hector has always been my muse.”

“Mine too!!” Kel is starting to sound more like himself. “What about a big ole garden? I bet Basil would like that.”

“Basil is never going to see it.” When Kel looks taken aback, Sunny clarifies, “He doesn’t like… danger.”

“It’s just a mural though?”

Sunny snickers. “He wouldn’t want me climbing up here.”

Kel looks surprised, and then guilty. “Oh! Ohhh. Okay, yeah, I can totally see that. But then—is it okay that we’re up here?”

“He can’t tell me what to do,” Sunny sniffs. Anyway, Basil wouldn’t actually try to stop him. He would just clamp his jaw shut and swallow his misgivings and proceed to spend the night vibrating in terror. “It’s just nicer to come up here when he doesn’t have to know.”

“Hey, whatever works.” Kel darts another glance at him. “Okay, I have a real idea, but it’s stupid.”

“Those weren’t real ideas?”

“I have another real idea, but it’s stupid. And super not original. But if I really get to pick, then… I think you should paint us.”

“All of us, or the two of us?”

Kel shrugs vaguely. “I guess it wouldn’t be very smart, though, huh. I mean. It’d be pretty obvious who did it.”

“Not necessarily.” There are lots of ways to paint something without painting it. Abstraction has always felt more real than realism, anyway. The eye isn’t a camera. Every image is passed through a hundred different filters, how you’re feeling and what’s on your mind and whether you’ve had anything to eat. Overly literal representation is just a shadow on the wall of the cave. To say something true, you need to tell a few lies.

It's like with Basil's photos. No matter how much you paid for your equipment, a photo of a sunset will always pale in comparison to the genuine article. You have to spend a while fucking around with the contrast and the color to make an image that feels even close to true.

Sometimes the real world feels like Headspace. All of these layers stacked on top of each other, all of them accurate, no one of them true. Sunny could paint a perfect replica of Kel Rodriguez—messy curls, easy smile—and it would be accurate, but not honest. Or he could paint a blurred, warped animation smear, and it would be honest, but not true. Or he could paint a living sun, lurid orange and yellow and brilliant blue-white, and it would be true, but definitely not accurate. But all of them would be real.

“Can you already see it?”

Sunny startles. Kel is watching him fondly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be!! I told you, I love seeing you think.” Kel stops short, his fingers tapping an anxious beat against the gutter.. “...It’s late, huh? I should probably get going.”

Sunny sags. He’d been hoping to talk to Kel about everything they’ve been talking around: Kel acting weird, and Sunny feeling weird about it; Basil’s advice, and what Aubrey thinks that Kel might think. But he can’t unload that whole complicated tangle of feelings when Kel already looks so low. Paying attention to what other people want is tiresome, but important. Sunny wants to be good to the people he loves.

“Okay,” he sighs. “Just stay behind me. I have to check for pigeons.”

#omori suntan #omori #omori timeskip #omori fanfic #omori photobomb #suntan #photobomb #post-good end #college AU #sunkel

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