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sunrizef1 · 8 months ago

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What happens in Vegas pt 1.5

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Authors Note: had to write this twice because tumblr deleted it lol. Not sure how to tag this so I’m just tagging my general tags. Proofread but not well.

Warnings: Blood, cursing

Summary: When the drivers found Max cheating

Masterlist

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“Dannyyyyyy” your voice rings out through the noise of the crowded club, your words catching the attention of the Australian in question.

The Aussie turns his head, a grin on his face as he holds up a bottle of champagne he seemed to have convinced the bartender to hand over. You laugh at his state, drunkenness clear in the way he sways as he staggers over to you. You wrap an arm around his tall shoulder, leaning on him in order to sort out your own less-than-sober state.

Lights flash brightly around the two of you, fellow drivers and F1 employees spread throughout the club, not including anyone from Red Bull for some reason.

You couldn’t find it in yourself to care, vodka practically running through your veins as you celebrated your win. You had won your home race and you were surrounded by your friends. The absence of some people you didn’t really like didn’t bother you all too much.

“Have you seen Logan?” You look up toward the Aussie again, eyes darting quickly around the club for your friend. You had been with the blond practically the whole night but as soon as you had gone looking for Danny, he had disappeared from your side.

Luckily, you didn’t have to search for long as another arm comes and wraps around your shoulder suddenly. You turn your head to find Logan, a dopey smile on his face and, weirdly, sunglasses.

He had been drinking just as much as the rest of you had, even downing about half a bottle of vodka in under twenty minutes. Better than you would’ve done considering you thought vodka tasted like shit. Good for shots though.

You reach up and fix the glasses that had gone sideways on his face. His hand follows yours, still clutching a drink as he follows your lead in fixing the random glasses.

“Why’d you have glasses on?” You have to yell slightly as you say it, prompting Danny to glance over from where he’d been watching Lando convince the current DJ to let him have a go. You’d have to give it to him, the man��s pretty convincing when he’s drunk.

“Someone gave them to me, not sure when, don’t really care. They’re sick though, right?” Logan leans back slightly to give you both a full look at him and you laugh as he sways a bit. His blond hair is ruffled and he’s acquired someone’s paddock pass throughout the night, along with the glasses and he’s looking like he came straight from the race itself.

“Yeah! You look great, mate!” Danny’s laughing behind you and Logan grins while he leans back into the little huddle you’ve created, patting Danny on the back as he does.

“Where are we heading then, gang?” Logan slurs, downing the rest of his drink and slamming it down on a nearby table and then turning his entire form toward the two of you.

You walk forward a bit, dragging the two drivers with you, both of their arms falling off your shoulders, “I was gonna go back to my room but I can't find max.”

You had already been dealing with Max’s absence since, well, yesterday at that point and it definitely contributed to about 5 of the shots you had taken. By now it was about 1 am, you had been in the club for hours, you were hungry and drunk and just really wanted to go to bed. But you couldn't do that because you couldn't find max and something in your drunken mind said you had to find him before you could go to bed. Something about not going to bed angry after a fight.

A fight that, truly, you didn't really have a part in. It wasn't your fault that Max had lost. I mean, it technically was but you shouldn't have been expected to let him win. Red Bull had practically been asking you to lose to him all season and you win once and suddenly Max is yelling about how inconsiderate you are.

“Come on,” Danny starts to walk toward the exit, leading you and Logan behind him as he does. The three of you stagger through the crowd, many people stopping you go congratulate you and chat as you do. By the time you've reached the strip, you've completely forgotten about Max and instead, you're only thinking about the hunger in your stomach.

“Im starving,” you mumble as you lay your head on Logan who smiles down at you, once again wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

You pay no mind to the cameras flashing as the three of you walk out or the stares that come your way. You’re more concerned about where the nearest restaurant is.

Logan moves away from you to dig through his pocket and you take the opportunity to adjust your dress, the fabric suddenly too tight on your heated body. You also wish you could take off the shoes that were causing your feet to ache. Danny takes a swig from the bottle that he, surprisingly, had been allowed to take from the club. Hair sticks to your foreheads and clothes sit rumbled and wrong. The spitting image of three elite athletes.

Logan moves back toward you to hand you the phone he had just pulled from his pocket. You had honestly forgotten you had given it to him to hold considering your dress didn’t have pockets.

“Thank you,” you nod gratefully, unlocking it to an influx of messages from friends and family congratulating you on your win or sending pictures from the club.

You clutch the device tightly as you cross your arms in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold Vegas air.

When a particularly cold chill runs through your body, you’re suddenly moving down the sidewalk, heels clicking as you try not to sway. The boys behind you follow in suit, seemingly trusting the, for the purposes of this race, Vegas native.

“Where we going, then?” Logan asks, a yawn escaping him as he readjusts the sunglasses perched on his nose.

“There’s a shake shack at New York New York,” you follow suit in yawning, pointing slightly ahead at the Empire State shaped hotel in front of you.

Daniel hums, “I want a burger.”

You laugh slightly, leading both of them toward the restaurant.

You three get there pretty quickly, ordering random greasy food that your trainers would probably disapprove of. When you sit down, you pull out your phone and send a quick series of text to Max to ask where he was. He hadn’t been there the whole night and you had finally started to miss him. He reads the messages but doesn’t reply, leaving you with a sick feeling in your stomach.

You bite into a fry to try and cover the nausea, opening your text chain with Charles and texting him instead. He actually replies this time and soon enough, Charles is on his way to you three from wherever he had gone to sober up earlier in the night.

“Charles is on his way,” you say through another yawn, eating a fry.

Daniel scarfs down a few bites of his burger, swallowing a full gulps of his drink right after, “For what?”

“Gonna help me find Max probably. We’re all too drunk to do anything by ourselves anyway.”

“Not too drunk to order food by ourselves,” Logan says, probably louder than he needs to, leaning back in his chair, glasses still on and a drink in his mouth, “Let’s fucking goooooooo.”

He follows Daniel’s lead and starts to munch on his food quickly, food you’d paid for by the way, when you turned out to be the only one who could get their Apple Pay to work.

You take a couple more bites of your food while the boys scavenge their food as if they hadn’t eaten in years.

“Hey guys!” You look up to see a particularly sober Charles Leclerc strolling through the shake shack door. You perk up when you see him, a small smiling making it through the exhaustion you were feeling.

“Hey Cha,” you say, standing up to give him a small hug, staggering a bit on your heels as you do. He leans back as you release him and steadies you, holding something up to you as he does.

Your eyes widen as he holds up a pair of converse in your eyesight and you gasp happily, quickly sitting back down in your chair and starting to fumble with the clasps on your heels.

Your fingers shake with exhaustion and alcohol and the clasp escapes your hands more than a couple times.

“Here, let me do it,” Charles offers as he sets the shoes down on the ground next to you before kneeling in front of your chair and grasping your ankle lightly.

You don’t look across the table to see Daniel and Logan making kissy faces at each other as they both stuff their faces with greasy food and soda. But you can hear their mocking kiss noises and you roll your eyes as you finally look their way, glaring as you do. They both shut up and go back to the phones in their hands.

Charles makes quick work of the clasps on both shoes, sliding the heels off your feet and untying the converse before handing them to you. You slide the shoes on and stand up, wrapping up your excess shake shack as you do.

Logan makes a noise of protest as you move to throw the food away and you sigh before sliding it across the table back to him. He makes quick work of the food, with help from Daniel reaching over his shoulder to grab food in between Logan’s bites.

You and Charles wait quietly for the two of them to finish. You eventually open your mouth to ask him a question but he seems to beat you there.

“Do you know where Max is?” He says quietly, eyes staring kindly at your tired state.

“No, he hasn’t answered my texts,” you mumble sadly, head falling to rest against your hand on the table. Charles moves slightly closer to let you rest your head on his shoulder and your eyes start to flutter closed. You were just nodding off when a loud band comes from across you and your eyes open to see Logan slamming his empty drink on the table just before Daniel does as well.

They both move from the table quickly and you and Charles rush to follow them as they bound out of the restaurant in their drunken stupor.

“Let’s go find max!” Daniel yells out swinging an arm around the blond man’s shoulders.

“To finding max!” Logan responds swinging his own arm around Daniel.

You and Charles share a look at the two of them. You had been just as drunk as them but you seemed to be sobering up quicker than both of them.

You glance down to see your heels clutched in Charles hand and pull out your phone to take a picture while he’s busy looking over your shoulder at the two drunk formula one driver some yards away.

“Come back here, losers!” Charles called out to the two of them and they both turn back to you and stumble over, seemingly dancing to music that wasn’t playing.

“We’re going to Omnia,” Charles says to the three of you and that’s all the boys need to turn around and wander toward a building they don’t know the location of.

You roll your eyes at them but follow quickly after, trying to make sure they don't wander too far away. Charles is quick to walk beside you.

The walk isn't too far, your drunkenness slowly decreasing throughout the stroll. Luckily for you and Charles, by the time you all get to the club, Daniel and Logan have sobered enough to at least walk in a straight line.

Omnia is nestled inside of Caesars Palace so it wasn't hard to find but Daniel and Logan do both try and walk past the hotel. You and Charles have to call them back and drag them into the lobby of the hotel.

The four of you wander over to the club, glancing around but when your efforts seem fruitless, you decide to wander around the area instead of just looking at the club.

The four of you wander around aimlessly, looking for any signs of your boyfriend. You glance up to see Charles with his eyes set forward, still clutching your heels in his hands. Logan and Danny fall in line next to the two of you, seemingly sobered enough to be helpful now.

Eventually you round a corner and come face to face with a surprisingly empty area, not a soul in sight. The silence almost echoes off the vaulted ceiling, making the sound of your four sets of shoes seem almost loud in comparison.

You don’t see anything in the room and go to turn around when Logan catches your elbow, “Is that him?”

You turn back around to follow Logan’s point, eyes locking on a brunette man. Of course, Logan has just been extremely inebriated so his judgement probably wasn’t the best but you decide to listen to him anyway.

You move to take a step toward the man when he stumbles backward, letting you see that it is, in fact, your boyfriend. But what causes your eyebrows to furrow is the familiar girl hanging off of him, lips practically attacking his own.

You can’t move. Your eyes are locked on the couple and your feet are solidly rooted to the marble floor. You think you might be crying, you wouldn’t be able to tell. The only thing that pulls you out of it is the feeling of a pair of heels being shoved into your arms. You glance up just in time to see Charles reeling his fist back.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the sound of a nose breaking under a fist. Of course, it’s quiet so that probably helped a lot.

They’re screaming at each other and your brain, once again, tunes it out. You stare blankly ahead, trying to make sense of whatever the fuck you just saw. You’re pretty sure Charles’ girlfriend flees. Probably for the best. Logan swings a tanned hand in front of your eyes and suddenly the volume in the room is back once again, the screaming slowly filtering into your head.

“What the fuck is your problem?” Charles yells, blood dripping down his arm as he shoves Max in the middle of his chest.

“What’s my problem!? What’s your problem!? You’re already fucking my girlfriend, I was just evening the score,” Max spits, blood splattering against Charles’ white shirt as he shoves the man’s wrist away.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t do shit, man!”

“You proved it by showing up with her,” Logan inches forward as Max’s eyes land on you for the first time that night, seemingly ready to defend your honor. Or whatever.

“Taking her to help her find her boyfriend who turned out to be cheating on her with my girlfriend. Yeah seems really romantic mate,” Charles rolls his eyes. You can tell from his stance he’s ready to throw another punch in a heartbeat.

“Fuck you, Charles.”

“Fuck you, Max.”

There it is, the second punch flies and the two start to brawl. Rich idiot brawling, of course, no real form or anything. You reckon Max could throw a pretty good punch if he was in a better state. In the moment you’re just glad he isn’t. For Charles’ sake.

You suddenly realize that the area might not have been as secluded as you had thought. When you glance up you’re met by the literal strip, bright lights streaming in from the outside. Even at the ripe hour of 3 am. People start to gather at the commotion. Usually you’d care a lot about this kind of stuff but your brain is unfortunately too preoccupied to care.

One of these people that takes it upon themselves to insert themselves in the fight is none other than Checo Perez. The man on the grid who you could stand the least. Or at least he used to have that title, that might belong to Max now.

Upon the sound of more yelling, you tune him out. Daniel’s the one who moves in his path, causing the man to turn the argument onto Daniel. 5 foot 10 Daniel who’s been itching to throw a punch since this fight started. Daniel who was, until quite recently, black out drunk. Daniel who you knew, deep down, didn’t want to punch Max so this was a perfect solution.

You don’t end up remembering how it happens, your brain fogged with alcohol and emotions but one second, Checo and Danny are arguing and the next second, Logan’s landed a punch.

Honestly, he has a killer right hook. Especially for a drunk man. This spurs another fight and you can’t do anything but stand still in the middle of it all, tear stains running down your cheeks and high-heels clutched tightly in your arms.

It feels like an eternity later, but what probably only 5 minutes, when a figure comes up behind you and wraps an arms around your shoulders. You glance up to see a wild Oscar, pulling you away from the scene. He drops your shoulder to move back and pull Logan out of the fight, now with a bloody nose and bruised knuckles. You’re not sure how much fighting he did and how much of it was just him hitting random surfaces. Again, drunk.

You turn toward Charles and see a now unoccupied Checo walking with an arm around Max’s shoulder and a now quite sober Lando pulling Charles the other way. Danny’s made his own way out of the area, quickly pulling you away with him. You don’t argue as he does, grateful for the escape. Sound comes back to you as you re-enter the casino floor, slot machines and black-jack spread out around you.

You realize how crazy you all probably look, all six of you covered in blood in some way. Whether it be your own or a friends. You all stagger out of the hotel quickly and at some point, you lose Charles and now it’s just you, Daniel and Logan, just like how you had started the night.

Once the air hits your face you realize the reality of everything that’s just happened. Your three year relationship was now over. Your teammate and boyfriend just cheated on you. This had to be some sort of HR violation.

For the first time since you entered the quiet area, you feel yourself cry. Tears run down your cheeks as sobs rack your body. Logan is quick to get you somewhere to sit down and he lays an arm around your shoulder comfortingly, not even thinking about the fact he’s now smearing even more blood on your clothes. You get distracted form your crying when you glance up and see the blood streaming from his nose. If you could help it, you’d get his name the farthest away from this. He didn’t need this right now.

For a moment you’re too worried about Logan’s future to cry but then you glance back down at the blood on your own hands and the waterworks start again. You, of course, hadn’t punched anyone but the blood was a reminder that somebody had because of you.

You eventually get the sobs to go away, standing up with a slight wobble, leaning on Daniel as he catches you.

You have no idea where the rest of your friend had gone or even where you were gonna sleep tonight. So you text the one person you had complete faith in during this situation.

“Can I stay with you?”

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#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #scheduled #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x fem!driver #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader

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chrissdollie · 5 months ago

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warnings/notes: suggestive, matt x tumblr writer reader, no smut (but there will be soon), unedited, incomplete, nicknames (baby, babe)

matt sighs, boredly scrolling through his phone while you are sound asleep next to him. your boyfriend uses his free hand to gently rub up and down your thigh. the morning sun tries to peak in through the dark curtains, but the room is still dull. comforting though. especially with the sounds of your soft snores, matthew couldn't be any more comfortable.

that is until a few minutes pass, and he decides to open an app called tumblr that he "jokingly" installed not too long ago. a small smug grin spreads onto his face as he searches up "matt sturniolo x y/n". many results come up, some sweet and fluffy-- and others disgustingly filthy. on camera, matt would completely disregard any "you should read smut" comments... but he can't help and listen to the inkling of interest inside him.

he finds a random blog where he scrolls down to the pinned introduction post to find where all of the fics may be. you sigh sleepily, matt's head immediately snapping to you with wide eyes. you reposition yourself slightly and fall back into your deep slumber. your boyfriend wouldn't want you to know about him reading dirt. especially if it's about him!

he looks back down at his bright phone, scanning the introduction post quickly. he pauses all of a sudden. "yn?" he thinks to himself, his eyebrows pinching. but they quickly rest again, there's no way you, his sweet little angel baby writes nasty smut. and plus, plenty of people can have the same name as you.. right?

he taps on a link that says "about me" which brings him to a cutely decorated page. it's very girly-- definitely reminds him of his unaware girlfriend sleeping right next to him. he reads through the bullet points that include: your age, where you live and where you're from, and a list of things you love! this has to be you. not to mention, your profile picture is your favorite photo of him. he'd know, the physical picture is in a cute frame right next to your side of the bed.

he doesn't feel too embarrassed about wanting to read imaginary sex scenes anymore. matter of fact, he feels like a saint compared to you, who actually writes them! he finds your "masterlist" and it's an entire page just about him. he taps on the first link that reads "daddy's home".

in the years he's known you, including the HOURS of time you two spent having fun in the bedroom, he would've never expected to see kinks like these! by now, he's already gone through most of your fanfictions under the category of "smut". so far he's read drabbles of daddy/breeding kinks, bondage, roleplay, age gaps, sub!matt (this got him feeling a little tingly), and more. he wears a smug smirk on his face as your pretty eyes blink open.

"hi babyy.." he coos sweetly as if he hadn't read your dirty thoughts for almost an hour. he brings you into a warm snuggle, his hand caresses the back of your head while you yawn into his bare chest. "sleep good?" matt asks in his raspy morning voice. "mhm.." you sigh, holding onto him like a koala. the smug shit-eating grin is back on his face when he randomly says, "i found your tumblr."

your body tenses. oh shit. you've been caught. there are two things you can do here: play dumb or ask him if he liked what he saw. you lift your head to look up at your boyfriend. comfortingly, he looks amused. before you can speak however, he reminds you of what you've written. "yeah i read all of your kinky shit. i didn't think you'd be into some of the stuff i saw there, babe."

you feel your arousal sticking to your panties. you gently bite down on your lip, bravely staring into your lust-filled boyfriend's eyes. you seductively lean up so your mouth is only an inch away from his. "so what're you gonna do about it?"

THERE WILL BE SMUT TRUST BUT THIS IS ALL IM GIVING FOR NOWWW!! UH NOT PROOFREAD LIKE ALWAYS XX

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo thirst #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo suggestive

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nvuy · 2 months ago

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dulcet — sunday

summary. it is within the safest parts of the world that sunday loses himself, and it seems that only you can provide him the salvation he desperately searches for.

notes. i wrote this for mags :)))) hiiiiiiiiiii!!!!!!!!! confiteor part three THATS IT. DONT ASK ME FOR ANOTHER ONE. you can read part one and two here or on tumblr if you want. i'd recommend because this series is mind boggling. i wish you all an open mind, because if this confuses you, that's the point.

warnings. mdni, 18+, gn reader with fem anatomy, you are implied to do street work, crazy freaky shit, long ass 11k post, whatever form of body worship this counts as, sunday needs to be medicated asap and needs therapy, angst if you look at it with your eyes open, religious guilt & themes, and again its literally just a dirty smashing session. nobody is surprised.

Sunday laid and simply waited for sleep to come. It was dark now, and the clock on the other side of his room was ticking and ticking with each minute that passed. Something twitched with every noise; a finger, his eye, his lips.

Exhaustion crept behind his eyes, and yet they refused to remain shut. Every tick of the clock, every creak of the bed, every single noise he heard put him on edge. He stiffened like a corpse when the sheets moved.

It’s just him.

It was just him and nobody else. It had become harder and harder to convince himself that he was alone. This was his bedroom; the same four walls he surrendered himself to every night and prayed to see tomorrow morning. A home such as his didn’t warrant nor promise his safety when he laid his head to rest.

And that was what had scared him. The window to his bedroom was cracked open just a tad; he had his rhythm. All the windows shut and the door locked tight from the inside. Any draft of wind from outside would stir him awake in an instant, as well as the fact that anyone would contort through the gap and come forth and touch him and–

Sunday only clutched at the neckline of his shirt to calm himself. Usually, he’d twist his hand into the pendant he wore around his throat, but that was stowed away in its jewellery box — and Robin had highly discouraged the bad habit because he was growing ghastly scars on his palm from repeatedly splitting the skin open on the white gold charm.

He swallowed hard, and the lump in his throat remained. He gritted his teeth and shut his eyes tight in frustration. He tried to relax, loosening the tension in his shoulders and stiffness in his legs, but he locked up again almost immediately.

Like a corpse.

He could hear tapping outside of his room again. Clicking of heels, footsteps trailing back and forth down the hall. There was no light bleeding beneath the door, but shadows passed beneath as if someone was standing outside. Waiting.

Sunday turned over and faced the window. It’s open. He stiffened up even more and swallowed even harder. It shouldn’t be open. He found no courage to stand up and close it himself; the floor would be too cold. His feet are bare. The wind picked up hastily and the silk curtains drifted lazily like the breeze did not freeze him to his bones.

At the same time, he felt hot in his skin. Burning like the sun, like hot wax and sweat glittering down his skin. Like rain and sand and molten metal mixed into his chest, ready to burst through the flesh and leave him without a heart. The pathetic muscle beat frantically despite having to convince himself there was nobody here.

He knew there was nobody in the room with him. He knows this. There’s never anyone with him.

And yet, he felt as if one thousand different eyes were peering down from the shadowed corners and staring and peeling back every layer of his skin and delving into his very being. And it hurt. Like lead weighed down his bones. Like he couldn’t move a single muscle in his body.

So he laid there and hurt.

He tried to breathe as the feeling entrenched through his veins and twisted against the walls of his organs until he was swallowed whole by whatever this was. Stabbing and burning and bruising blossomed in his legs. Breathe. Just breathe.

He tried to think of birds. The old small doves outside of the window that used to visit him when he was very, very small. Small enough that he remembered being accompanied by his mother, and too little that Robin wasn’t even in the picture yet. He would lean over the windowsill and reach out a small hand to one of them. Usually, they’d run away, but he found if he remained still for long enough, they’d curiously come close and use his hand as a branch.

That was years ago.

He shook harder and pressed his lips together. He couldn’t tell if he could see something in the corner of the bedroom, but he couldn’t move his head to affirm it. He felt eyes. Eyes and mouths and hands and they reach lower and lower and beneath his clothes and he can’t breathe.

He felt claws.

The pointed ends of them sank deep into his stomach, the flesh denting and daring to tear beneath the tips. He swallowed hard, hard enough that the lump in his throat cut into his jugular.

And that familiar sensation of heat began to return. Again. He finally found the strength to let a finger by his side twitch, and he realised then the hand delving towards his navel was his own. His nails tap at the skin again and again as if waiting, as if his hand had its own mind. He felt it did.

He felt it was yours.

He finally turned over to face away from the window and tucked his hands beneath the pillow underneath his head. The clock in his room ticked away. His heart beat in tune.

Why does it hurt?

Paranoia set its teeth into his neck, and he had the love bites to show for it. He remembered the feeling of sharp canines digging into his flesh and ruining his throat. And he remembered crying out, not from fear as he did now, but from the pain, the rushing of blood through his veins, and the hot press of skin against skin. And that feeling.

Alive.

That’s what it was. His blood boiled, and he was afraid, but he felt alive. Above this plain, and the next, and in your arms instead.

The paranoia persisted.

He finally sat up and stared at the back wall of his room. The walls were barren, stripped of character, and his room was something of the same. There isn’t much on display. That’s too much clutter. There’s a jewellery box for his earrings in front of the mirror he refuses to look into. He doesn’t own a lot of things — and what is there to own? Other than a few books he has at his disposal, they tell nothing of his character.

If he had it his way, the bookshelf would be filled with romance novels. The terrible kind. The ones that were so over the top that he simply had to put them down and stare at nothing for five minutes before turning to the next page.

And then he’d think of you.

Idiot.

He pushed the blankets aside and swung his legs over the bed, careful to readjust his shirt. A light sheen of sweat stuck to his skin like hot glue as he stood up. The floor was freezing, and he promptly made it over to shut his window and lock it tight. He did it quietly, tip-toeing across the floorboards with shaking fingers.

He ignored the pain in his limbs, tugging on the window until he was sure the lock wouldn’t slip free. He did this hours ago before he tried to sleep. His mind was muddied.

He closed the curtains swiftly before trudging towards the bathroom. He locked that door, too, and tried to cool his face with water. It seemed to work for only a second before the burning returned. That sweltering heat lingered again and again, and the bruise on his neck was only growing darker.

The only thing on the bench is his toothbrush and a pair of scissors. There were bits of leftover blue feather tufts on the sharp ends.

He doesn’t look at his reflection, afraid of the silhouette forming behind him.

And then there was a creak from outside the door.

He choked on his breath before he held it silently. The window. He recognised that sound; the dry hard rubbing of the sill against the joints. His teeth gritted hard, and he swore the shells cracked in his mouth. And that is pain. Pain and pain and pain and fear and it swallows him whole and he feels small still. Like he’s little. Like he’s that little boy who cried with a scraped knee for his mother.

And that hurt.

His heart ached and his stomach dropped. He held onto the bench, leaning his weight against it, afraid he’d double over and dry heave — when’s the last time he ate anything?

Breathe.

It’s nothing. This has happened before. Many times.

He stood up straighter and pushed off of the bench. He ignored the pain shooting up his legs, and he grew lightheaded as he tried to move towards the door. The blood rushed to his head and his vision dimmed into nothing for a moment.

His hand rested against the door handle, and his fingers wrapped tight around the cold steel. It bit at his fingers like ice and he fought the urge to retreat and stay locked inside of the bathroom. It was too cold here. He was already shaking just staying in here for three minutes.

He swallowed hard and tried to control his breathing.

And then, and only then, did Sunday swing open the door as quick as he could and shut it briskly behind him. He rested his back against the hardwood of the door and held his breath. Hold. Hold. Breathe.

The window was open.

He could’ve sworn he closed it.

He could’ve sworn he–

He could still feel the cold wood of the sill on his fingers. He did. He can’t do this again because he knew he closed it and he remembered closing it and why is it so hard to breathe–

He barreled toward the window sill and shut it again. His stomach twisted and his lips parted to try and suck in more air. He only succeeded in accelerating his heartbeat.

He stepped away. Closed. It’s closed. It’s closed it’s closed. He closed it. He knew it now. He breathed out again, this time slower, trying to calm himself down. The back of his heels hit the foot of his bed and he sat down on top of the blankets. It’s cold.

It’s cold but the window was closed. He knew it. He knew it, he knew it.

He heard a knock from the wardrobe.

The inside.

His breathing stuttered and stirred in his chest, and it felt like small animals crawling through his lungs and clogging his throat. Like rats. Creeping rodents clawing into the weak muscle tissue and tearing through his bronchi. Violating.

It was dark. So dark he couldn’t see the figures in the corners of the bedroom. His feet were cold from the floorboards. The acid in his stomach churned and burned, and feared the worst. He scanned over the room once, twice, before he slowly took a step towards the wardrobe.

It knocked again, and this time the door jolted on its hinges as if something were trying to break out.

Another step.

He hurt.

Just go back to sleep.

He opened the closet.

Two shadowy figures, one hunching over the other, too close for comfort, and ants wedged themselves through every pore and blemish in his skin. It’s him, and you. You’re half undressed, and he looks worse for wear, covered in stains and spit and taking it all in stride. His clothes were a mess; pants ruffled and loose, his hair was wild from being tugged on, and despite your hands roaming dangerously low around his hips, his own hands drew around your face and pulled your lips onto his again and again.

One blink, and he was there. In the church again, in the back in a storage cupboard, and he was startled. He’s dreaming. He had to be. His clothes were different; his usual attire, though he’s shedded his overcoat and you were busying yourself undoing the buttons of his shirt.

“I told you not to come back,” he remembered whispering defeatedly.

Your hands dipped lower down his navel.

“Getting cold feet, priest?”

And, yes. His feet were cold, because now the closet was empty, and he was standing in his bedroom again with his hand on the knob. The bruises on his neck ached with the memory.

He shut the door.

Then, he turned, almost like less of a person and more of a shell, and stumbled back to bed. The sheets were still warm from the imprint of him, and he held the blankets to his chest defensively as his eyes searched around the bedroom again.

Nothing to see. All empty and dark and neat.

His eyes flitted toward the window.

It’s open again.

His heart skipped a beat, but he made no move. The draft froze him stiff. He contemplated leaving and searching for Robin’s room; he was sure she’d understand — and she would. She’d make room on her bed instantly for him.

But he’s not a child anymore. Humiliation stirred in his stomach like acid, and he swallowed the fear rising in his throat. It’s closed, he reminded himself. He has closed it. Twice now. It’s just all tricks of the light, or his own mind, or you.

There was the familiar rhythmic tapping of heeled shoes from outside his door. They sounded louder than before, but he knew they weren’t really there. He had heard the same footsteps for weeks now, bordering close to months. He had purple rings beneath his eyes to show the constant dreams he’d been forced to endure.

Ignore it. He laid down again, curling beneath the blankets. Pain withered and whittled his bones like frostbite, and the wind that blew through the gap in the window made him shiver.

The blankets were still warm, at least. It must have been only just past midnight. He still had hours to hold onto and toss and turn.

“What have you done?” he asked you one day, the only soul remaining on the podium in the church. “What did you do?”

You stood quickly. “Nothing, sire,” you answered. “What are you talking about?”

“You play dumb when the sun is out and crawl on your knees at night.”

You stood, stiffening like a corpse. “What are you–” You cut yourself off, frantically searching around the room for some sort of answer to your question.

He stepped forward, finding a somewhat semblance of strength to face you fully. He wanted to scream, or fight, or flee, or do something other than gape like a fish.

Lying. Bearing false witness. It’s all the same cardinal treachery he knows too well. He saw it now on your face like you were carved permanently in the stone of the statue behind him on the podium.

“It’s my job, sir,” you responded meekly. “I didn’t willingly–”

“I don’t care whether this is a job. You don’t understand,” he snapped quickly. “I am not paying you to torment me.”

“‘Paying me?’” you repeated. “Sire, you have not asked me for my service.” You took a step back, closer to the entrance of the church, but the aisle was long, and you had an even longer way to go until you reached the exit. “I only attend here because I am guilty of where my life has led me.”

“I did not ask for your service, nor did I ask you to lead me down your path of destruction.”

“We have not slept together, Reverend.”

Sunday stirred again. The same thing. His pendant being discarded left him only to clutch the neckline of his shirt and breathe harder. He’d already torn his palm to shreds. The cut through the bandage around his hand still stung, but it was no longer bleeding.

Maybe he is losing his mind. Maybe he’d be locked away again and forced into confinement until he was finally let out. Maybe he’d be brought to his death; he’d wake up standing on a chair with his hands tied and a rope around his neck.

And you’d be the one standing by his side with your foot ready to nudge the chair out beneath his feet.

He swallowed hard, and his hand moved to soothe the ache around his neck. Like rope burn. He’d already been shunned from church today for an inadequate morning service. One of the priests had commented on his behaviour.

Sunday had thought nothing of it at first. He hadn’t been sleeping properly for weeks, and any sleep he did achieve was plagued with you, your scent, and your legs, and his fingers twisted into the soft and warm flesh of your breasts. And he’d woken up without failure after every single one with his hands clammy, sweat pouring down his neck, and a flaming ache between his legs.

Liar. It’s just shame and guilt that wracked your rotten guts. He wanted to rip your organs from you and tie your neck with them. And the fear ate at him again, and again, and again until his bones were gnawed to their limits.

“Y’know, Rev,” he started slowly. “You’ve been… distant.”

Sunday’s eyes flitted away from you quietly chatting to another attendee on the pew. He said nothing but only gave the priest a strange look.

“Are you feeling okay?” The priest placed a hand on his shoulder after a moment. “If you need to talk, or… confess…”

“‘Confess,’” Sunday echoed quietly. “I’ve done nothing wrong.” His eyes searched for you again, and you were still attentively listening to the other person with your hands laced together in your lap.

Beautiful.

You glanced up and found his eyes as if you’d impeded through his head and gotten to his mind.

He sneered.

Your face twisted with confusion for a moment, maybe even guilt, before you offered a small nod of your head and an awkward smile before you turned back to continue your conversation.

“I am only looking out for you.” The priest’s eyes followed Sunday’s gaze. He grimaced. “Perhaps you should go home and rest. You look tired.”

Robin thought the same, that poor girl. She’d sit by him before service and try to coax him with some encouraging words, maybe even singing if he allowed it. She couldn’t get through. She couldn’t understand what was going on. She tried with all her might, and all the care in her small frail little heart to find the strength to make his beat again, but nothing would work.

Because nothing was going on.

It’s just him.

There was another creak from the window. He stiffened up harder to the point where his limbs threatened to snap from their tendons.

He doesn’t understand what it is. Attraction, fear, interest, connection, loneliness. If this is love, he doesn’t want it. It hurt, like a rope around his neck, like being pelted with stones until his skin and bone caved, like being tied and burned, like being nailed through the hands and feet and left for dead.

Just him. Just him.

“Are you lonely?”

He lost his breath.

There were arms wrapped around his middle from behind, and there was hot breath running down his neck. And it’s so familiar, and it’s so warm, and he startled a gasp from his throat.

Sunday tried not to throw his head back as he’d done so many times before. Instead, his hands almost immediately found yours, as they had so many times before.

His tongue failed him.

There were lips on his neck. Gentle, warm, and so so familiar he grew breathless within an instant. The bed was soft, and he melted into the mattress, and the warmth. He swallowed hard, and he was so exhausted he must have been dreaming. He mumbled under his breath, and his hands instinctively moved to yours.

They’re yours, right?

“‘Lonely?’” he murmured.

You hummed in acknowledgement. “You look lonely.”

He’s just tired.

His hands wrapped securely around yours, holding tight. Let this be okay. He dreamed it for so long. This is what he wants. He wants your warmth, and you, and your devotion. To use whatever faith he has in the church, in THEM, and everything you’ve ever worshipped, and spin all these twisted lies into him. Him and only him.

Just love him.

That’s all.

He couldn’t admit it then. “Your concerns are appreciated,” he mumbled. “I’m just tired.”

“I can help you sleep,” you promised. Your hands grazed over his hips.

“I beg your pardon?” His teeth dug into his lips hard enough to draw blood. But he knew what you meant because it is what he meant. It’s just him. He refused to turn around and face you, and thus found content with the disillusion of your warmth draped over his back. It was comfortable, as two lovers should be, but it was all the more wicked when, through your body, he felt the breeze from the window.

His breathing shook when your lips returned to his neck.

Vile, this is. He had admitted it so many times before. All of this was vile and disgusting, and wretched and wrong.

And he loved it. He loved the traitorous words that spilled from your lips, and the trembling of your fingers, unsure — just as his were — as they delved beneath his clothes as they had done so many times before. He remembered every other second he’d spent with you.

Where he’d met you, where you’d returned again and again before you’d pulled open the confessional door and had taken him in the booth, and where you’d pried and delved deep into his head, up when you sat innocently during service and refused to look at him.

Where you’d forced his head down between your legs and ordered his tongue, or he’d stood frozen stiff as your hands delved over his thighs, or when you’d touched him in all the places he never used to dare venture.

Because it is real.

He found himself unable to ask if it was, much too afraid of the answer.

“Tire you out,” you explained softly. “Make you dizzy.”

He already was. He was grateful he was already lying down, for he was sure he’d have fallen to the floor by now.

He hummed lightly and your teeth set softly below his jaw. He hoped in some twisted part of him that you’d leave scars upon his flesh.

Then, he mewled when your teeth grazed over the joint where his wing protruded below his ear. Sensitive things, the feathers. The bones were brittle too, and thin enough to snap with one wrong move.

This wasn’t right.

It wasn’t right to convince himself he’d be fine if you cracked every bone in his body and left if you’d touched him all over and kept him yours to do as you pleased, or if you did nothing but bite and tear into his skin until he was nothing but shredded flesh and bone. And still yours. That’s what mattered.

He had been raised to climb above personal desires, much less his own carnal ones. This shouldn’t be what he wants — he should want nothing. It’s selfish of him to think of you like this, and to feel your hands on him every night, and to indulge in your touch. It was sin like hot wax dripping down his stomach, and it tasted like warm sugar.

He hummed lightly, heart fluttering as you kissed another bruise onto his throat. His thighs ached to part and to grab your hand and move your fingers between his legs. He was already throbbing with need and it made his stomach churn.

Your lips were warm, and they served well to block off the wind blowing in from the cracked window.

Your lips grazed down over his shoulder before your hands slowly slid over his throat and reached from behind to begin unbuttoning his shirt. He let it happen. Because he wanted it to. Anxiety jittered in his limbs and his throat, but he helped you in undoing his buttons. He was much too afraid to shed the item off entirely, terrified of judgment and his willing vulnerability.

Terrified of his own skin, he shut his eyes tight and turned his head to kiss you properly.

His stomach exploded, he felt. Warm lips and an even hotter tongue that slid past his mouth. He wanted to choke and swallow your spit, and as disgusting as it felt to realise all of these thoughts, it only made him dizzier.

And he fell in love.

He felt warmth burst in his chest. His hands trembled before they wandered. They settled hesitantly on your hips, and he was pushed roughly onto his back. His chest pressed against yours, and he felt your heart race against his skin. The familiar pulse put his mind at ease and his head pounded with the scent of your flesh.

He grew dizzier as the time passed. His lips refused to part from yours, spit stuck like glue. His face grew hot, and his cheeks flushed a gorgeous pink. Sweat pooled down his throat and his hands and he gripped harder at your hips and felt the world spin. Vertigo grabbed at the chains clasped around his wrists and ankles and pulled, and he spun around again and again with you until he pressed you into his mattress, and one of your knees lifted to rub between his legs.

His breathing stuttered and he gasped out your name, as ridiculous as it was.

This was pathetic. He knew it so. His stomach twisted with pleasure and panic and the dizziness surged so hard in his head he had to stop for a moment and bury his lips into your shoulder.

Your hands were busy pushing past the waistband of his pants and venturing low between his legs. Your hands were hot, palms tracing the smooth skin of his hips before your thumbs brushed over the side of his cock. He shuddered, already hard and growing worse with every second.

He moaned. Moaned. Him. The Head of the Oak Family. That simple touch made his knees buckle, and he almost toppled on top of you.

Instead, you shoved him over, and you weighed him down onto the mattress. He let out a startled noise when your hand abandoned his cock. Instead, your nails trailed upwards. Up and up and up until your fingers grasped at his neckline and pulled him up from the bed.

“You seek reverence,” he murmured against your lips. “At a time like this.”

“Surely you can fight it this time?” you asked.

He tried to kiss you again, but your grip held strong and your other hand twisted into his face, holding him still.

He swallowed hard. Anxiety bubbled in his veins like boiling water. “This happens every night.”

“And you’re still pining?”

He’s sick. That’s what this is. Sick and in love.

His father had told him that to love is to give in. Giving in was not a part of him; he wasn’t supposed to cut open his chest and offer you his beating heart on a silver platter. That was the consequence of obsession.

“This is your fault,” he tried.

“Is that what you tell yourself while you fuck your own hand every night?”

The humiliation stirred deep within his chest. He hadn’t even realised his hand had snuck beneath his pants to tease the head of his cock, flushed a furious red and weeping. He wanted you to ruin him and scar him and make him yours and–

“I’m in love,” he admitted to nobody. His words were muffled as you grabbed his face harder. He looked to the left. The window was closed. “And I’m a heretic.”

His heart leapt through his throat.

He understood it now. He knew then a nightingale was watching from the window. He knew it. This would taint him if whatever was left of his purity was not already stained the shade of your skin.

His wings fluttered. Fear. It crawled back up his spine.

He fought through your grip and kissed you again, this time with that newfound anger that had been boiling in his blood. His nerves and fury mixed to create some sort of poison that fueled him forward, grabbing your face and ignoring his twitching cock with a frustrated sound. He ended up sprawled on top of you, desperately trying to smother you with his lips, and pressing his hips to yours slowly. So slowly.

His kisses were frantic, uncertain. He wasn’t sure where to touch, what to do, how to respond when you nipped at his lip or your tongue crawled to press against his teeth teasingly. He found you tasted of nothing, but that was to be expected. Because it’s not–

His hands found the buttons of your shirt. That same shirt you wore when he first laid his eyes on you. All buttons and silk, and that awful embroidered stocking pattern ran up your legs.

Sunday slotted himself between your thighs, and his bedroom spun in a circle. The mattress dipped as he leaned against you, his hand sprawling across your chest to feel the rhythmic muscle beat frantically. He was sure he was in a worse condition; he felt as though the pathetic heart beneath his ribs would give out any second.

His cock twitched in his pants.

But he was a patient, patient man. He’d been drilled with this mindset, this front since he was little. So little he couldn’t think for himself. Now, he could, and he was distracted and losing sleep every night touching himself to the curve of your legs. Gopher Wood would be laughing in his grave, he’s sure. Laughing and jeering and shaming.

“What do you want, Reverend?”

He didn’t know.

He couldn’t answer.

Instead, he chose to kiss downwards from your throat, following the intricate lines of the bones and trying to remember what the scent of your skin was like. And it hurt to try because it was a reminder.

He decided to ignore it. Ignore everything entirely and focus on you, and solely you, and nothing else. It helped, if only a little.

Reverend Sunday worshipped like no other. It was instilled in him for so long that it was second nature, but never in his life had he been at the mercy of something much more important than a God. He’d never believed it to be true, but the way your breath hitched and you squirmed when his thumbs brushed over your nipples riled him further than he would have thought. He sighed, overwhelmed, and his teeth ran over the expanse of your breast, desperately coaxing that same noise from you again and again.

His heart spiked once, twice, and when he was convinced the muscle was truly about to stop, his lips continued downwards, centring lower to your navel. You squirmed, but his heart fluttered at the feeling.

“I want this to be–” He stopped himself, lips and nose squashed against the soft skin between your hips. “I’m–”

His father would be laughing at him.

Misery plagued his bones, and his halo flickered quickly the lower his lips dragged. Devotion. In and out. Pure, unbridled devotion. Taste and touch and blood and sweat. He breathed out finally, and his teeth came forth to pull at the waistband of your skirt. His canines caught on your stockings, and the fabric was dry on his tongue. He tugged downwards, snagging the wiring between his teeth.

He wanted to tear through the rose pattern, but he decided otherwise.

Instead, he pulled them down past your thighs, to your knees, and then your ankles, careful with the thin and delicate material. You kicked what remained off.

He grinned, but it was shaky and uncertain. It was suddenly cold. Another draft he felt from the window. He couldn’t undo the button of your skirt with his mouth, so his trembling fingers pulled their weight and decided to just shuck it upwards to your hips. Your bones splayed so nicely all for him, and his mind ventured elsewhere for a moment.

How many others have seen you like this? All pliant and pretty, covered in sweat and his spit and the marks from his teeth. His thumb pressed to the sensitive skin of your stomach.

Maybe it was twisted, the image of you both. A poor pining priest and the object of his desires. A scared little boy looming over the image of an Aeon. The scent of your skin and the touch of your hands. He pulled back for a moment, simply leaning over to admire you.

You reached up towards him and grabbed the bottom of his shirt. You tugged once, twice, before you said, “come, Reverend. Make this one real.”

“You cannot tempt me like this,” he argued weakly. Still, his hands splayed over your thighs, soothing over them. He couldn’t bear to look down past your hips.

“Scared?” you asked him.

And he was. Very, very scared.

When he glanced down at his hands, he noticed his fingers warped.

He ignored it.

He followed his hands then to your hips again, careful with his movements, slow and unsure. He moved between your thighs, watching closely for any twitches. His cock throbbed when he brushed his hips against the mattress.

He wasn’t sure what to do. He wasn’t sure about anything, really. But your thighs parted wide to accommodate his shoulders, then his head and his heart almost burst when you swung a leg over his shoulder. It pinned him further into the mattress, and a soft pull at his left wing closer to your hips made his cock twitch.

Devotion.

His unsteady hands held on tight to your hips, and one of yours found solace in interlacing your fingers with his.

Hesitantly, he brought himself forward to taste.

The mind plays funny tricks on its victims. Sunday knows he’s no stranger to disillusions, illusions, and the like. To the decayed mind, all things seem real. His tongue tasted, his hands felt, and he heard your breathing and your quiet mewls, and yet his eyes couldn’t seem to stay open for more than seconds at a time.

Funny.

Sunday lost his breath at the noise you made. It was a stir in his stomach like fine wine, and your hips encouragingly ground back on his lips when he reeled back for a moment. His mind grew foggy, and his eyes fluttered shut again.

Oh, is he a man in love.

His tongue moved slowly over your cunt, languidly stroking up and down with wet passes to test the waters. The tip of the muscle inched upwards slightly, curling over the small bump of nerves. That managed a sharp inhale, to which he curiously tried again. Any noise that escaped your lips, he chased it, over and over again like an addict.

The taste was, again, nothing.

Because it’s–

He shut his eyes tight.

Your hand found the back of his head, fingers curling in soft locks before you pulled him forward, closer, until his nose bumped against your clit and his lips were smushed against you.

His wings fluttered again, and the feathers tickled your thighs. His hands wanted to wander and touch himself, and he could have sobbed out at the relief he sought when his hips ground up against the mattress, but he couldn’t. Selfishness wasn’t a part of him. It never truly had been. He’d have much rathered to feel your legs wind tight around his face before anything else.

His tongue tried again, the flat of the muscle grazing along your clit until you twitched at the sensitivity and pulled his head back for a moment.

Sunday’s hand splayed on your hip moved to your cunt, and his thumb pulled back the wet plush skin until your hole stretched wide. He swallowed and his lips pulled taut and he kissed at the entrance once, twice, until you were giggling like an idiot, and a newfound delirium grew haze in his brain.

Your free hand pushed the hair from his face when he delved in again, tonguing at your clit before he decided to kiss there as well. Devotion. It is worship. It is the sight of you writhing—it’s everything.

His mouth followed you as your hips twisted and squirmed, teeth lightly sinking in around your clit in warning. He was still in control, for the most part. Maybe not of himself, but for how he kept you on his bed. He sucked lightly, feeling you jolt and squirm, and a smile grew on his lips at the sight.

He wanted to burn the imprint of his lips on your thighs, and he tried. He abandoned your cunt, now slick with his saliva, to try and mark your legs as his. He hummed to try and release the pressure of his nerves gathering inside of him, but it didn’t do much to help. Your thighs bruised easily. He could bite and tear if he wanted to.

He pressed his lips to the new bruise before his nose pressed against your clit again and he mouthed at your entrance. He held you firmly, enough to scar with his nails, and tasted again and again and found nothing and everything in all of the wrong places. Perhaps he was too enamoured, for when you grew too sensitive and attempted to push him away, he held stronger and tilted his head to push harder with his tongue.

Your clit swelled, and he felt it all the way. His hips stuttered against the mattress. His eyes remained screwed tight, even when your fingers petted his head gently.

He was being good. He knew it, and his heart thrummed at the idea. That was his job, his entire life. To be good, and to understand, and to please. He fell in love with every mumble and moan that left your lips. Every babble of praise, or every time you pushed his hair behind his ears. His cock grew harder somehow, despite his resistance.

His skin was growing cold again.

You were growing wetter with every pass of his tongue, and every flit of his lashes against your thighs when he tilted his head downwards to taste. His longing had grown into overdrive. He never should have been tempted like this. He was beyond temptations and desires and wants. He did not want anything. He had no need for things and love and music and art.

And yet, what’s it to a man of the church who falls in love with something as wretchedly beautiful as you?

All ruined and sweaty and mangled and all his to enjoy. That’s what you were — all his.

His mouth was slow, lips wrapping delicately around your clit to suck hard. It made you shiver without fail, and your hips bucked upwards at the feeling over and over again. The entire premise that it was him, and nobody else, that had you as you were now, almost made him cry out at that very moment.

It hurt to breathe and think and feel, but his fingers pulled at your skin to ground himself and press his tongue into your entrance. You clenched instinctively around him, and he tried again and again, forcing his tongue as deep as it would go. Your legs squeezed around his head and the warmth of your pulse and your blood beneath your skin only aided further in making his head spin.

He was sure his face was red to match.

Your legs wrapped tighter around him, enough to keep him still and his tongue on you as he returned his attention to your clit. You mumbled a spiel of praise he barely picked up on, and it went straight to his cock.

It would stay and remain devotion the more he ruined your cunt with his lips, but he couldn’t think straight. The world spun on its irregular axes, his hips winded quicker into the mattress, and your breathing was slowly growing into something heavier and harder.

He couldn’t hear your thoughts — he needn’t try. He was sure he’d be able to see pink and white and stars and nothing but the vile image of his head between your legs and your slick coating his face. Some priest. Lowly and unserving. He did not deserve any praise, nor nothing he received. If anything, he was born to remain here, by your side, and grabbed at the throat and the hips until he could think of nothing but your hand twisting around his cock again and again.

Complete pain and humiliation climbed up his spine when he pressed his cock hard into the mattress. It was instinctive at this point. His mind wasn’t working, and his hips moved of their own accord again and again until he came and still tortured himself with it. The fabric of his pants only made everything seem hotter and tighter, and as his hips twitched with every brush against the mattress, he moaned or whimpered, or made whatever other pathetic noise he didn’t realise he could.

You said nothing comprehensible, murmuring whispers of pleasure that only served to make him hard again. And so quickly, too, that he throbbed and outwardly cried out at the feeling, though it was muffled.

Curse his stupid tongue that was so smart and silver for tiring when he needed it working more than ever. Never could he exhaust himself of words, but he pushed and pushed now with whatever fleeting strength he had, and the blood rushed to his face when you stirred and pulled on his hair to lessen the distance. Grateful for some sort of grounding, Sunday nosed at your clit while his lips kept busy teasing more slick from your hole.

In love.

Funny how it works. It torments and shames and lusts and ruins.

He lost his mind.

The want to taste your cum grew stronger, as did the press of his tongue against your clit until you were mewling and squirming at the pressure. A finger brushed up against your thigh before it sank deep into your cunt. You clenched instinctively, and he rubbed at that sweet little spot that made you writhe around him.

He ached and ached and felt you twitch and tremble and he could have cum again if he wasn’t so distracted by the feeling of your legs squeezing around his head.

This isn’t how this was supposed to happen. He should be resting and trying to get better. He’s sick. He hasn’t taken his medication in so long. He shouldn’t be trapped in a confessional booth with a whore, or locked away in the wine cellar and brought to his knees, or–

You came, then, and his heart fluttered and stammered and stopped and started anew. You coated his tongue with slick, and his heart raced so quickly he was worried it would burst from his chest and run.

He was so enamoured and frazzled with how his mind could do this to him. How he’d been trapped in his own head for so long and curled in his blankets with all the doors in his room shut and the window closed and blinds pulled over.

A terrible blush painted his face when you weakly reached down to pet his hair again. His halo shimmered. He’s so well behaved. So, so good to you, and good for you, and he can be your everything if you’d let him.

Your thigh rubbed against his cheek, warm and trembling.

He reeled back after overstaying, and your clit throbbed when his lips kissed the poor bud one last time. Your hole clenched desperately for more of him, and his heart jolted.

His hands remained between your legs as you found the strength to grab his shirt and pull him upwards and over you. His heart pressed to yours and he kissed you again, this time intent on making his lips bruise. Eyes wound shut, he ground his hips up against yours.

You kissed at his jaw.

“Wretch,” he mumbled. His halo flickered again. His blood burned beneath his skin. He hummed, pleased at the warmth of your flesh. His hands wandered to yours and gripped your fingers tight. Another shove and his legs were entangled with yours in his side.

“You’re in love,” you whispered.

And he kissed you, again and again and again until he was breathless. Until his heart warmed and burst, until he was sure he could taste and smell nothing but you, and feel only you.

His lips were still unsure. His teeth clicked against yours, and perhaps his heart was thrumming so loudly in his chest it deafened him, but he pulled you harder against him. His hips were rough against yours, dragging his cock through his pants against your cunt in languid strokes. It hurt. The friction was too much for him, and yet he couldn’t stop himself.

And he was moaning and moaning and it was disgusting what terrible sounds ripped from his throat. He mewled and flustered and breathed so heavily that his lungs were about to combust.

That feeling was slowly returning. That guilt and fury and humiliation burned horribly in his stomach. You did this. All of you. He was not at fault for this. For the way you sat pretty in the church and kept your gaze locked onto the floor. How your hands would hesitantly touch the donation baskets as if you were unsure if it was worth the precious pennies you had left.

And he would watch silently. As he always did.

He’d watch silently, and then he’d go home that night and cum on his own hands with his eyes shut tight, trying to imagine they’re your fingers instead.

His hand rested in its rightful place between your legs, and his fingers returned wet. Soaked, even. And he realised then he’s brought upon much more than a twisted version of romance; this is desolate, and this is Hell. He is home in all of the Nine Circles, blown about in an endless storm with no hope of rest, a heretic victim to the clutches of flames, and he burns and burns and burns and burns but the pain never dulls, nor ends.

His pants were ruined with his cum and your own, and as vile as it was, he desperately clawed until he found leverage to finally be selfish and free the stupid awful thing and grind his cock up against you. The skin was already wet, and yet grew wetter and warmer with the friction. Slippery and grotesque, and yet he felt you clench every time the tip slipped around your hole, enticing him.

A fog grew heavy in his mind, and he went blind for a moment. He witnessed pure white and burning. And it was Hell.

Despite the incessant grinding, his fingers slid and slipped over your clit, desperate to hear your voice again. His free hand searched for the pendant that was usually strung around his neck. He found nothing.

Still, his eyes were shut.

He felt as though he was somewhere else. In the church again, where you’d ridiculed him as if this was his fault, and then you’d fucked him over the altar. Or maybe back in the confessional booth where you both had barely fit inside, and you bounced on his lap until he grew dizzy. Or maybe when you’d mouthed at his cock in the bathroom at a dinner to celebrate his sister’s success. Or maybe when you’d thrown him in the backseat of his own car and made him see stars.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

But this was different. This was his bed, his four walls, his private quarters, his everything, and you were his, and this was the intimacy he’d been craving since he was a child. He’d been denied the closeness of another person, anyone, for so long he had forgotten the feeling of skin. Even his own skin, which he’d hidden away each day beneath layers of clothing.

Because he wasn’t a person, really. He did not think his own thoughts. He did not have the passion and desires others had; he had no interest in the mundane—not anymore, at least—like art and music and literature. He had no end goal that was his and his alone. The money he used to purchase things was not his. Nothing he had in his bedroom was really his.

But you.

He held tight onto your thighs and stopped.

His heart melted into mush when he realised you were still lazily grinding upon his cock, and the veins throbbed desperately.

You. Imperfect and terrible and everything he shouldn’t have loved in another person. And so disastrously awful for him, and all of the subtle changes of this face, and your real one. He can’t truly remember everything—there’s a small glint in your eyes when you’re perplexed, and there are few patches of colour across your features, and perhaps your eyes are a tad too light, but this is what he remembered.

And as imperfect as it was, and as unsatisfying as it was, and ignoring the fact that it gnawed at his insides, he was okay with this. He was okay, somewhat, with what he felt.

His palms were embarrassingly wet when he held you open, and guided the tip of his cock towards your hole. He swallowed hard before he softly canted his hips forward and drowned. He held tight, anxiety shooting up his veins and bursting at the seams.

He felt you tighten instinctively, trying to swallow him whole while he panted like a hellhound and pushed his hips deeper until the bones were pressed to yours. He stuttered, heat encircling his cock like a vice, and then swallowed as hard as he could to mask his voice.

He should be used to this feeling now. He’s done this before — has he really? Everything felt so familiar, yet so so strange, and so so foreign he held his breath and wished it all to be real. He held on so tightly he grew breathless.

His forehead pressed to yours.

You hummed.

He felt his lips twitch. “This is wrong.”

“But you keep doing it.”

He had no excuse then, and he still had no excuse now.

He’s just like his father.

He gritted his teeth. “I’m in love.”

You laughed, and it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. “There it is.” His hips twitched forward and he buried himself deep inside of you. “You’re doing so well.”

Oh. The wings below his ears fluttered. His face burned hot like the sun, and a hand dropped low to grasp yours tight. You squeezed his fingers in affirmation, maybe even encouragement to move. He was stuck, frozen, twitching, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

He simply nodded along like an idiot.

Warm. So disgusting and warm and his breath grew staggered and uneven with every twitch of his hips. His stomach felt odd, but maybe that was the sickness that warped in his guts. Something so extremely nauseating that he felt alive. He swallowed hard and his fingers moved to your arms to steady himself. He buried his face in your neck. Pear and jasmine and vanilla. He recognised that scent every time he was given that sacramental wine. It was almost the same, yet so so different.

He laughed, then, right into your shoulder. It was much more of a huff of hot air against your skin. Because this was insanity. His knees sank further into the mattress, and his pillows were tossed askew. Hurt and pain and heat. It was all the same, for he knew no better.

It was so good. Cardinal sin and blood and skin. Good. Great, even. Greater than anything he'd ever tried before. You tasted amazing, better than the flesh of an Aeon. So soft and warm and all his.

Something to call his.

His stomach turned.

He couldn’t get enough. His hips bucked slow, so excruciatingly slow, as if to savour. He wasn’t sure when he’d ever feel like this again, if he ever would. If his body would ever want him to do this again.

His arms shook with his own weight, and he tried not to double over. Good. So, so good. His hips twitched impossibly closer to you and he breathed upon your lips. He melted when you kissed him, as chaste as it was. He hadn’t felt this way ever in his measly, putrid existence.

All for you.

He pulled away slowly, attempting to forget the feeling of you, only to stuff himself back inside, rocking his hips hard until his own met your bone.

His heart warmed. How twisted. Your tongue prodded out to poke at the corner of his lip and he buried his nose into your shoulder afterwards, trying to muffle the disgusting noises that snuck from his mouth. He wanted to cry; that familiar prickling behind his eyes teased him.

His stomach jolted when he rocked his hips softly. He was sure a tear slipped down his cheek, and it dropped silently on the marred sheets of his bed. He’d have to clean it later.

Slowly taking what he needed. He continued, slowly, slowly, slowly, because he was a thief,

and he did not deserve to force his pleasure upon you. Not like this. Not with you pressed down onto his bed and waiting.

He understood the addiction of scent, and blood, and skin, and why he would hear the same telltale stories through the mesh of the confessional booth. He used to scrunch his nose up at the topic—how could someone be so insistent that carnal cravings were a cure to anger, and hate, and treachery, and violence, and everything?

Your lip pressed to his ear gently.

It can’t be a cure. It’s not. He certainly didn’t feel fixed, or any better. For the moment, maybe, he felt as though he was in Heaven, but it was much more warped than that. Heaven was not a feeling; Heaven is not a place, or a person, or cardinal sin.

Truly, he’s not sure what it is. It can’t be you. You’re different, maybe even the opposite. You didn’t make him feel beyond the clouds. You made him feel… terrible.

Infatuated, but terrible.

You were whispering something in his ear, and he laughed softly, but he wasn’t quite sure what he heard. If anything, he’s relieved for the attention. You could have blatantly insulted him, and his skin would’ve melted like hot wax.

“You’re overthinking again,” you reminded him. Your voice was strangely steady.

His hand tightened around his sleeves. “You come for…”

“Salvation, I suppose.” That was you. You came here. To see him. Or hear him. And seek his guidance and better judgement. He wasn’t sure if he could offer you much of himself, seeing that his brain had short circuited the moment he’d heard your voice through the booth.

He had imagined this all before. If anything, he remained silent to see if he could listen to anything vulgar.

Seconds passed and Sunday swallowed hard.

“Reverend?”

“Of course,” he forced out. You’re not going to do anything—it’s all in his head. You’re not going to plead for him to open the booth and let you have his way with him. You don’t even know him, and he doesn’t even know you.

It’s all in his head.

“Just try to enjoy it,” you told him.

His hips thrusted harder and he could hear the awful noises that escaped from your throat, and he wanted to tear the vocal cords free so you would never sing again, and also kiss you until you were breathless and bruised. Just try to enjoy it. Just stay in your head. It’s better that way.

He could feel himself snapping at the seams.

You were probably in your own home, wherever you lived, sleeping soundly. Maybe you were doing the same as him, or maybe you were fucking another man and enjoying him rather than—

He had a headache. A blazing pounding behind his eyes.

Yet, he persisted. He held you tight against his chest, hoisting you upwards from his bed so your heart could press against his. He fell in love with how he felt around you, even if it made him ill and horrible. Even if it disfigured his mind; even if you killed him.

He kissed you again, this time harder. He tried to ground himself firmer to remain on this terrible planet with you, but his mind continued to wander. Overworking, overthinking.

Sunday couldn’t find himself to care about it anymore. He strangely welcomed the feeling of you attempting to suck on his tongue. He held onto your throat now, only gently, and his finger pressed to your jaw to keep you still.

He panted once, twice, and then his breath hitched when he managed to move into you with an increased pace. He tried to keep his rocking even, but he was quickly losing his strength again.

How vile. One of your legs was slotted nicely around his own, calf rubbing against his hip as he slammed his own against you. Hard enough to burn and bleed, and his cock twitched and twitched and twitched and twitched.

“What…” He leaned against the side of the booth. “What troubles you?”

He heard you laugh, though it wasn’t at all mirthful. Still, it may have been the most beautiful sound he’d ever been blessed to hear. “Everything.” You paused to take a breath. “My job… my life… my everything.”

He said nothing. He didn’t have to. He knew exactly how you felt.

“I don’t think I was made to live in a world like this.”

You’re the same. Maybe that’s why he had developed this estranged one-sided affection; this sickening obsession that’s torn through every working cell in his brain. That’s left him a horrible, shaken mess of a person.

The sounds are abhorrent. The way you wriggled in his grasp to force him deeper inside of you, and the sighs and whispers that left your lips are somehow worse.

Sunday lost his strength in one of his wrists, and he almost toppled over you. That only stirred him harder, and his hips winded and jolted when you squeezed tight around him. He could certainly get used to this. One day. With you.

“Enjoying yourself?” you asked.

He was enjoying you, but he refused to voice it. He understood. He understood the need to escape, to run to somebody else’s bedroom, to fix everything this way.

He kissed you impossibly harder, his lips purpling at the pressure, and that mere feeling brought him so close to the edge he stammered on his own breath. His thrusts grew sloppier by the second, and he cared less about how you felt, and more of that edge he was chasing and trying to grab by the reins.

So good. He could feel his cock bubbling at the tip, squishing up against your walls and the skin stretched and ached and warmth burst through his stomach. He wanted to fill you up again, and eventually, one day. He’d imagined this so many times before; the way you’d sound, or beg, or do whatever you really did. Whatever you did, he’d embrace it, and he’d thank you for a thousand years.

He’d cum again and again and he’d let you use him as your own personal toy to play with if it satisfied you. Even if you tossed him aside when you grew bored—he was used to that.

He’d feel this terrible feeling forever if you would just love him.

He hoped.

His stomach burned, and his cock was throbbing.

His bones grew tired, but he persisted, in and out and in and out until nothing left his lips but babbles of worship as he swung his arms around your neck and traced his lips along your ear. You’re so good to him. So good.

You would sit there all pliant and pretty and he’d take and take and take until the only thing left of you was the part that only cared for him, and nothing else. And then you’d watch as he was dragged down below the ground, while you would rise above the clouds. Because that’s what he deserved, and you and him did not share the same fate.

The clutches of a Sinner’s hands rest on his face, and they’re yours, just for a moment.

His hips stuttered.

“C’mon,” you whispered. His nose was cold against yours.

“I–”

“–Close?” you finished.

He frantically nodded his head like an idiot.

His lips twitched in some sort of pathetic smile.

You reciprocated. “I know.”

He couldn’t handle the teasing. If anything, it only made the headache worse. He wanted to cum. That was the only thing that mattered at this point. He wanted to ruin you, as you did to him.

He couldn’t afford to choke in the air as his cock twitched. He was right there, and his hip bones were aching as they smacked against your skin.

“I’ll be all yours, Priest,” you told him. “One day.”

Sunday’s eyes shot open in horror as he came, and he clutched desperately onto some semblance of skin—whatever his brain could attempt to conjure in a last-ditch effort to make this nightmare real.

His hand was twisted tight around his cock, covered in spit and sweat and his own filth, and he wretched the treacherous limb away as if it had developed a mind of his own.

He was trembling, layered in cold sweat as he shivered, his stomach convulsing as his cock slid against the mattress, an angry red flush enveloping the tip.

He couldn’t develop a coherent thought, nor movement, for when he felt around blindly for you, you were nowhere, and he was alive and awake again.

He choked on his own saliva as he tried to sit up. His pillows were soaked with drool, and his clothes were askew. He rested his back against his head and tried to breathe.

He glanced at the window. Closed.

Because he had closed it. He’d locked the bedroom door, too, and the bathroom. How would he have forgotten? That had been his routine for almost sixteen years. He wouldn’t have forgotten. Not ever. If anything, he’d have grown well aware of the old habit being missed that he’d scratch at his skin until he’d forced himself to get up and fix the window.

He heaved at what he had done.

He swallowed hard as if there were rocks stuck in his throat. His lungs refused to take in air. He kicked off the tangled blankets and they fell in a pathetic heap onto the floor. Dizziness surged in his mind, and the back of his eyes pounded and pounded the longer he sat there staring blankly at the wall.

His heart swelled horribly.

Oh.

His eyes slowly dragged over to the bedroom door.

Closed. No light bleeding beneath the door. No footsteps in the hall. Not Robin’s, certainly not yours. He faintly heard the echo of your heels, but that was drowned out by the aching in his head.

“Your services…” the priest started quietly. The booth creaked. “What do they entail?”

You didn’t answer for the moment. Perhaps you were nervous, or apprehensive, or a strange string of both. Maybe, even, your hands were busying themselves around the waistband of your pants, slowly unbuckling the belt and then–

“Men, sire,” you responded quickly, honestly. You tapped the mesh wiring of the confessional window in a strange rhythm. “I’ve never been proud. It’s dirty work.”

Sunday blinked awake. His hands were pulled tight at his sleeves.

“But you don’t have a choice?”

You made a noise. “Did you have a choice to be in the position you are now?”

“My position is very different from yours,” Sunday reminded lightly.

“Is it? We both serve to please the worst of people.”

And, in some sort of twisted way, you were right.

Just as if he was made to please you. That is his sole purpose; to be yours. It is why he felt this way. It’s why he was put in this terrible position; to meet you, and be yours, and nobody else’s, and escape off this treacherous planet and kiss you until he couldn’t bear to breathe the air that wasn’t yours.

That’s love, right?

Devotion.

He found it in himself to peel away from his bed and trudge to the bathroom.

He couldn’t bear to see his reflection.

He was afraid he’d see you standing behind him.

*ೃ༄

The next evening was like every other. He leaned against the confessional booth, eyelids slowly drooping shut as he listened and listened until his feathers shrivelled and his ears picked up on nothing but static.

Please the public.

He nodded along mindlessly to whoever was speaking to him through the wiring. He was grateful the booth was dark, and cold, for he was forming a sweat. His mind was running in circles, and though he responded to the lone soul through the window, he felt as though what he said was automated, and not at all a production from his heart.

That being said, he was thanked anyway, and they left.

That must have been the final one, for when he called for the next churchgoer, he was met with silence. There were no hushed shuffles of feet against the floor, nor the rustle of clothing, or breathing.

Nothing.

Alone again.

Sunday unlocked the door to the booth and stepped out, grateful he could stretch his limbs properly. He’d been cramped inside for what felt like days, but was only a few hours. Still, he felt his bones pop and crack as he exited.

He took the keys from his pocket and locked the small door.

Another day.

He could endure. It was what he was made for. He knew no better.

To breathe and feel for others.

That was all.

Now what?

Now, he’d go home. He’d go home, do the same mundane routine in order as he had always done for every day of his life—get changed, maybe have dinner, fill out forms until he was almost asleep at his desk, and then he’d try and sleep. And the same as always, he’d toss and turn and whine that it was too hot and then it was too cold, and all the while you’d mouth at his neck and strip him of his clothes.

He inwardly shuddered at the thought.

He grew sick with worry as he stared helplessly at the confessional.

“Room for one more?”

His heart leapt out of his throat, and he froze. His fingers tightened around the window of the booth and the material of his gloves stretched and squeaked.

He swallowed, unable to turn around. He pulled out the keys again. “Of course.” His hands were shaking.

He heard you let out a troubled hum. “You don’t have to–”

Sunday stopped you short, perhaps too quickly. “Nonsense. This is my job.”

“–We can talk face to face,” you finished. “If… if that’s easier.”

Right. He certainly could. It wasn’t so much easier for him, but if it pleased you. If that’s what you wanted.

Truly, you didn’t care too much about his final decision. But he was pretty in the face, and it was nice to speak to him properly for a change.

Sunday stepped away from the booth finally and turned to look at you.

He lost his breath almost instantly.

You grinned. “Hi.”

His lips managed to twitch into a smile. “Hi.”

Your feet shuffled against the tiled floor. He recognised the sound of your heels clicking quietly. The same noise he heard in his hallway, and he still heard it every night.

He held the keys tight in his clenched fist. The jagged ends punctured a hole through the palm of his glove. The scar that remained from his incessant habit would be opened soon.

Your eyes were slightly lighter than he’d imagined, and you wore your clothes neater, and you didn’t run your tongue rampant with terrible sullied words. That wasn’t you. That was his idea of you.

And now, reality sets itself upon him, and he still cannot grasp what is untrue.

“You haven’t visited the confessional in a while,” he started softly.

You shook your head. “No.” You glanced back towards the door, perhaps wondering whether it was locked, or maybe even contemplating running for it. “But I do sometimes attend service.”

He knows this because he’s searched and waited for you every morning.

Sunday was simply staring at you. “And what has prompted your change of heart?”

A laugh bubbled from your throat, and the sun bled through the stained-glass windows of the church, and flashes of green and yellow and pink and blue dotted along your face.

“You do generous and kind work, Reverend,” you whispered to him. “I hope it makes you happy.”

The offer of praise made him sit up slightly in the seat in the booth. Nothing made him quite as happy as your voice, and he’d hear you sing again and again until he grew deaf. Even then, he was sure he could remember the way your lips formed every syllable that spilled from your throat.

If anything, he remembered your sound, because your words were what mattered.

If anything, he hopes he can make you happy.

“I fell in love with a man.”

And he’d never let go of that hope for as long as he lived.

#✦ ( after hours. )#✦ ( the macrocosmos. )#sunday x reader #sunday x you #honkai star rail x reader

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melancholyhigh · 2 years ago

Text

WORK HOURS.

ft. re2!rookie!leon x lieutenant!reader

synopsis. you were supposed to help leon out on his first time on the job. instead, you’re helping him out in a different way.

content. smut. 1.2k words. car sex, cowgirl, unprotected p in v, dry humping, sub leon, marking, they’re both so desperate for each other, creampie, pet names, praise kink, virginity loss.

note. man, fuck tumblr. i accidentally posted the unfinished draft n didn't realise :( anyways, i hope you guys like it <3

check out my other works. comments & reblogs are appreciated !!

it was leon’s first week on the job, and you were assigned to show him around since he wasn’t well acquainted with raccoon city. boss thought it would be a great idea to take him on patrol to get him adjusted to the area.

you were excited that a new recruit was joining. it didn’t happen too often, and you knew it was difficult being a rookie — you were in the same position when you had originally joined the RPD. so when you meet him, you plan on being a great lieutenant and helping him where necessary.

your first impression of leon was that he was sweet and a bit naive. he was also rather gorgeous. God certainly had favourites. you couldn’t help but stare at him, and he noticed. a pink blush blooming on his cheeks when he caught you gazing at him. the flushed look made him even more captivating as you secretly wished that the blush on his face would be for different reasons.

you felt guilty for having such thoughts about him. you are his boss, for Christ’s sake. you have to assist him with his duties, not get in his pants.

but how could you not think about him like that? the way he got flustered when your hands brushed up against his or the shy glances he took of you throughout the day as you showed him the workings of the place.

this constant build-up of teasing had been why the fine line between being work professional and fucking the shit out of him had been blurred. leaving you in the predicament you are in right now.

the glass windows are foggy as you and leon sloppily make out in the reclined passenger seat of the police car. you’re hovering over him, legs on either side of his thighs. your pants are off and somewhere near the driver’s seat. you’re too preoccupied with the soft whines that leave leon’s parted lips as you place opened-mouth kisses down the column of his throat, sucking on the sensitive flesh.

this isn’t what you had planned for the night. you and leon should've been patrolling the streets, searching for criminals, not dry-humping in a car in some shitty parking lot.

but, fuck, the whimpers that he makes when he eagerly grips your hips with his big, soft hands and guides your clothed pussy against the bulge of his uniform pants have you overlooking your responsibilities for the rest of the night.

“feel so good,” he groans quietly into your ear as you continue sucking marks on his neck. you pull back to admire your work. his lips, swollen from your passionate kissing, the buttons of his cotton shirt undone, exposing the expanse of his chest littered with reddish-purple marks. you want the sight seared into your brain.

he peers up through his eyelashes, eyes all glossy, and his face flushed with that same fucking blush you adore. he’s bucking his hips up to yours, pants stained with your arousal, leaking through your underwear and his arms circle your waist.

“shit, i wanna feel you inside of me, honey,” you say breathlessly and leon nearly comes in his pants at the thought of feeling your cunt squeezing him tight.

you’re leaning against the dashboard, clumsily unbuckling his belt before half haphazardly throwing it to the side. unzipping leon’s pants, you pull his cock out of his boxers. it’s flushed and red, especially at the tip, which leaked with precum. everything about him was pretty.

you grasp his shaft, slowly stroking him. his face nuzzled against the crook of your neck. your warm hands moving up and down his rigid cock provided enough friction for him to make a mess all over your palms. you realised he was holding out for you, smiling you kissed the top of his head.

“you’re such a good boy, leon,” you said softly.

at your words, you felt his hips jerk up into your hands. moans escaped his lips as he bit into your neck trying to contain them.

he whimpers your name, panting into the crook of your neck.

“need you so bad,” he sobs, tears swimming in his beautiful blue eyes. his cock pulsing and neglected when you pull your hands away from him.

“fuck, okay, sweetheart,” you muttered. leon leans back into the reclined seat, his hands on your hips. his chest moving up and down with every breath he takes.

you push your damp panties to the side, exposing your dripping cunt, you grind onto leon’s cock, groaning when the bulbous head of his cock nicks your sensitive clit. leon gasps at the feeling of your warm, bare pussy up against him. he wouldn’t last that long inside of you.

his cock finally enters your cunt. barely the tip is in, and you both groan in unison. your nails dig into his shoulders for support as you continue to sink down into him.

you feel each vein and ridge of his cock when he bottomed out in you. you moaned loudly. you were filled to the brim with him.

leon’s chest heaves as he feels your warm, gummy walls swallow his cock. he wanted so badly to fuck into you, but he wanted to be good.

“you’re amazing, sweetheart.” you huff out. “‘m gonna start moving, ‘kay?”

he acknowledges your words by squeezing your hips, unable to trust his voice.

you start bouncing on his cock, and all he manages are choked whines and whimpers that leave his pink, lips. he starts bucking his hips up to you, and you’re moaning when he reaches the spots you thought were imaginable.

the obscene squelching sounds of your drenched cunt being pounded into by leon fills the car alongside his and your desperate moans. it’s insane how wet he makes you.

“you hear that, baby? that’s how good you’re making me feel,” you say with a shaky voice.

your words make his tummy tense. he holds you closer, his hips stuttering before he gets into a rhythm again. he’s close to coming.

“‘m close,” he whimpers, and your pussy tightens around him at the sound of his broken voice.

his bangs are sticking to his forehead from the sweat that accumulated. he looks even more beautiful fucked out like this.

“come with me, baby,” you breathed. you brought one of your hands to your clit, rubbing tight circles.

nearing your orgasm, you press your lips to his, pushing your tongue into his mouth. the intimate moment has both of you coming.

leon’s legs are shaking as he comes inside your pussy. he moans into your mouth, feeling your cunt spasming around his cock when you climax. his hips came to a halt, and you feel his sticky cum ooze out of your sensitive pussy.

you’re both breathless, and he’s still holding onto you like his life depends on it.

“you did so well, leon,” you mumble, moving the bangs from his forehead, giving him a kiss. leon heart skips a beat. you treat him so good.

#leon's so babygirl in re2 #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon kennedy #re2 #re2 x reader #leon x reader #leon smut #re2 smut #leon x you #leon kennedy x you #re2 x you #smut #re4 x reader #re4 #re4 smut #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader #✩‧₊˚ fics

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yunietunie · 1 year ago

Text

Look at Me

(nsfw)

König was a quiet yet authoritative Colonel at the base. His eyes always seemed to look as if he was searching for something, wanting something. How long would it go on for before he caved?

fem!reader, colonel!könig, smut, MDNI, 18+, unprotected!sex, pnv,

A/n: this one has got to be my favourites, enjoyed writing it. This was one I had before i even started using tumblr.

let me know who you want next!!!!

König. The man you laid your eyes on when you first came to KorTac. Unsure if he’d ever look your way since you were just only a private, he a Colonel. You were a knife specialist, ranging in hand to hand combat, it being your strong point. In meetings you would catch his eyes darting to you every few seconds, obviously searching for something.

Months had passed and you didn’t really think much of König. Sure, he was somewhat alluring but he didn't even talk to you, and everytime you did he seemed to not respond back. He seemed nervous or something. But it was for sure, he enjoyed eye contact with you.

This game of cat and mouse played constantly with your irises fighting for dominance. Through his sniper hood, you could never tell what he was thinking or saying, his eyes displayed a poker face like expression. His voice seemed commanding in the field, but outside of it, he was very impassive.

Whenever he did talk, it was never directed at you. You must admit, that man’s voice alone was enough to make you want something from him. Your fingers would fulfill your thoughts when you were alone in your barracks room. You hoped he never would find out.

While you were cleaning your knives from a previous mission that went sort of bad, you heard a knock on the side of the doorframe behind you.

“Verzeihung..?” The 208cm Austrian man asked you as you swiveled your head to meet his gaze. His eyes staring right down at you while he shifted his weight onto one hip. “Yes..?” You said quietly looking up to meet his icy stare. He looked… disheveled? Like he wanted to ask you something but was being held back by his own conscience. You raise an eyebrow to his stance and his sudden appearance. He was always busy… why was König standing before you at your desk?

“Can.. I borrow you for a moment, bitte?”His velvety voice corarsed you, with a type of uncertainty in his tone. He also seemed rushed. He motioned you up from the bench, hoping you’d oblige. You reluctantly nodded and got up from your seat. You thought it was to discuss your actions in your previous mission. But worst of all, you thought it was because he was going to ask you about what you thought of him.

His breath would hitch in his throat as he would see you standing below him with a smaller frame than his own. Leaving the area, König walked down the corridor quickly, with you tailing behind him. Concentration filling his aura. As you both stride to his destination of his choice, your eyes landed on a door. His quarters. A thousand questions filled your head as to why he asked you to come to his quarters in the middle of your work. Opening the door and leading you inside, he closed it, locking it behind himself. Your eyes would wander around his neat room, everything was clean and well organized.

“Sitzen.” He spoke to you, motioning towards the edge of the bed. His sniper hood never dismissed from his face as he stared at you. You sit, he watches. You move, he took note. He was watching you as some type of prey. This raised even more questions as he began walking closer to you and looked down upon your body as you sat near the edge.

“I brought you here because it is more quiet.” König would begin as he watched your eyes for any expression. He was beating around the bush, especially since he was fidgeting with his gloves, slipping them off after a few minutes of contemplating. “Mein Schatz, I've noticed your eyes on me.”

Shit. You were so sure he didn't see you at all. You seemed practically invisible, at least at work and rank wise. Yeah, the two of you would make eye contact but you assumed he didn’t think much of it. You only gave a nervous laugh, almost challenging that comment as he spoke it. You looked around the room, hoping to find some excuse, but before you could König would step even closer. “I don’t mind it really. Especially when I first saw you.”

You were stunned. No, shocked that the Colonel would be talking to you like this. You couldn’t help but feel flustered. He still seemed desperate. Antsy even. He began taking off his tactical gear, tossing it aside, whilst keeping the hood over his face.

“Have you been thinking of me?’ He asked the question you feared. It wasn’t really a question, well, since he already knew the answer to this. He’d catch your attention when he’d give meetings or when he was in the break room drinking some water. And what about those dreams?

“Yes…” You admitted quietly, a little bit embarrassed at yourself. This pressure began knotting in your lower stomach.

“So ein ungezogenes Mädchen.” König replied back with an airy smirk you could tell that was under his hidden face. You didn’t quite understand what he was saying, however goosebumps began to cover your skin. Your eyes seemed to drift away from his body, trying to think. He moved closer, towering over you, placing a hand under your chin to force direction back to his eyes. That only made the pressure in your lower stomach begin turning to a throbbing one.

“That’s okay,” He said as he continued looking down at you. He took note of your small squirming to readjust your sitting position. “Liebling. I must admit… I've been thinking about you too.” König continued his wording. In truth, you could feel yourself getting wet by the way he talked about you. The way he admitted he thought about you. So he did know and now he was just watching you.

He moved closer, bending down to your eye level, which instinctively made you jerk your head backwards. He moved even closer. You moved back. He came closer. This would go on until he had you backed up against the headboard of his bed, crawling over your squirming body. Caught in a stare down between each other.

“I need you, liebling.” He said with a slight quivery tone, moving his face closer to yours. Your eyes flutter at the very thought. You’ve been only dreaming about this moment. Now he admitted he wanted you.

“Then you’ll have me.” You purred confidently as you stared back at him. There was going to be no hiding it now, especially with your slick folds giving away your thoughts.

You could hear a scoff given under the hood as he placed his thumb on your lower lip, looking at the plushness of it. He had you in his grips and he was not letting you go. At least not right now. König would take his time taking off the top of your uniform. He wanted to be gentle. He knew if he could, he’d tear you apart in an instant. Brushing your uniform top off, König’s eyes landed on your chest. It almost seemed like he was growing needy, especially as he rushed to slip your bra off.

Grabbing one of your breasts, he placed his other hand under you on the small of your back, lifting you slightly towards him. He moved his hood slightly up and placed his lips around your supple nipple. That earned him a small gasp from you.

His tongue swirls around it, making it more sensitive with each movement. He occasionally nibbles lightly on it, sending jolting sensations down your body. While he was tending to your breast, he made sure to keep eye contact with you. How he loved your eyes when you enjoyed yourself, the reactions from them.

Soon after, he moved to your other breast, giving it the same attention as you gave small whimpers to the gesture. He removed his hand from your lower back and grabbed it on your waist. Giving it a gentle squeeze before letting it travel down between your uniform pants.

Two fingers rubbing against the fabric of your pants. He was teasing you and you knew it. His warm wet lips soon left your hard and sensitive nipple. On top of you, you turn your head away to avert your gaze from him, only for him to move his face closer to yours and speak to you in a whisper.

“Look at me… I want to see your pretty eyes.” He pleaded quietly, turning your sight to his direction once more. He wanted you to watch him. He wanted you to watch him see how much of a mess he could make you with just a few words and a few simple touches.

His calloused hands made their way to your pant button where he unfastened them. Along with your top, he threw it down to the floor as well, disregarding them. König would look down and his eyes widened to the coated wet spot between your panties.

“So wet for me already, liebling?” He would ask quietly while rubbing your clit through your panties in small tight circles. He’d continue the soft motion while your body trembled at the gentle touch. His fingers tore away from your pussy, slithering them under the side of your panties. Sliding them down your ankles, he kept one hand on your hip for grip support.

“I need to stretch you out. Or else I'll break you in half.” His accent rolled off his tongue. He looked down at your folds, pushing one finger into your greedy hole. A wince ran through your body as he curled it. He was teasing you again. König put his gaze back to your irises that were pleading for more. His voice was inviting when you clenched around his fingers.

He began pumping your pussy, his finger coated with your juices, becoming more slick by the second. Small whines would escape your lips as you kept looking at the scene. The pressure building once more as your clit began to throb.

Without warning, he pushed another finger into you, making sure to spread you open. If this is what only two of his fingers did to you, imagine what his cock would do to you. As he continued to move at a slow and steady pace, that needy aura gathered around him again. His other hand moved down to your pussy as well.

Slathering his thumb with saliva from under his worn out hood, he placed it on your clit. The rest of his hand applies pressure on your lower stomach. König’s thumb began rubbing in small circles as his fingers desperately tried to find your sweet spot. The only thing to fill the room were whines and moans as you began squirming around him, not able to keep still.

You instinctively try to shut your thighs back together. “It’s okay, liebling. Open up for me.” König‘s angelic voice would command you. With that demand, you give into his authoritative voice.

Your cunt was throbbing and it felt so good to be stretched out by your own Colonel. His fingers now sliding in and out with ease, due to your own pussy betraying you. He curled his fingers. He found it. The spot that made your body writhe under him. Your desperate moans got his pace to move forcibly, even on your clit.

For a man who was afraid to talk to people, he sure knew how to ravish you. It was almost unfair with the amount of teasing and toying he did with you. Then it was nothing. He slipped his fingers out your vibrating pussy then placed them in his mouth under the hood. Sucking your juices off his textured fingers. You were left with a shallow breath. Well, that was until he unbuttoned his pants and slipped his cock out.

It twitched, his eyes never wavering from your glistening and watering eyes. He was painfully hard, and even though you couldn’t see his full face, you knew he wanted it badly. Wanted you badly.

“Bitte.” He begged, he pleaded, he wanted as he inched closer to your cunt that was still longing to be filled once more. Your pussy would clench at nothing, but the size difference made you turn your gaze away from him. The anticipation of it slipping inside was enough to make your body squirm.

“Look at me, liebling. I won’t do anything until I see your pretty eyes.” He purred looking down at you as the tip of his cock rubbed against your heated slit. You slowly turned your gaze to him with a hot face, your lips pursing into a fine line.

He toyed around your pussy with the tip, just trying to make sure you were wet enough for him. The same desperate eyes meeting with your own. A sudden pain filled your lower stomach as he began pushing his hips closer to you. His cock entering your slick cunt. He was just head deep and it felt like he was going to tear you apart. You look down at the damage but his hand moves to your chin to look at him once more, then back to your hip. Squeezing it. Preparing you.

“Jesu–” Before you could finish your one worded comment, his cock already smothered against your cervix, bending it into his personal mold. A grunt escaped his mouth as he filled your pussy up. He loved the idea that you were smaller than him. König loved getting this reaction of pushing his cock into your needy cunt and stretching it out.

You were a mess, especially as he began pulling in and out, admiring your face as he did so.

He slightly whimpered himself when he looked down and saw the large bulge from your lower stomach from him pumping in and out. He was trying to be gentle. Trying to go at a pace that wouldn’t break you. He was holding back. He didn’t know how much longer he could do that. His eyes looked back up at you for permission. You give him a nod.

Rocking his hips faster now, your cervix was already beginning to become bruised. He was so deep in you now, you thought your uterus was going to break open. His body slapping against yours, your moans and whines, his grunts and groans were the only thing filling the room. His grip on your hip is even harder, making a red mark from his handprint.

“You’re taking me so well.” König would say between thrusts. He would put his weight on you, his face close to your ear as he moved even faster. He tried. He tried to hold back but you felt too good. Your tight cunt wrapping around his cock like a fucking glove. There were no words coming out of his mouth and definitely none coming from yours as his tip decimated your violated body.

His other hand found itself on the other side of your hip, gripping it hard as well. Leaving yet another hand print. König would move his ear closer to your mouth to hear how good he was fucking you, how good he was filling up your cunt with his cock.

“Fuck.. So warm.” König muttered under his breath while feeling your warmth engulfing him inside you. He began at slow paces, making sure to get you adjusted to his shaft. It twitched and jolted within your walls. In and out, in and out, his body now slamming against yours as he hugged onto your body. You arched your back in response, squirming and writhing under his thrusts.

He stopped and lifted himself off you to look down at the mess he created of you. There were tears prickling the corners of your eyes. His hips would pound into you vigorously, bruising into your cervix. He would grunt into your ear, wanting you to hear how good you made him feel. König’s grip on your soft waist would begin to become painful, perhaps even leaving a bruise around the area.

“Bitte. Bitte, liebling. Let me please you. Let me fill you. Bitte.. I need it.” He pleaded with an airy and shallow breath as he was still deep in you. You couldn’t give a response right away as you were still trying to find words. Instead, you wrapped your legs around his pelvis and your walls tightened around him, giving his cock permission to spill into you.

A groan would expel out of his mouth, a few whines when he began to feel himself getting closer.

Another round of plundering movements would meet your cervix, he began to move with even more force. His breath was ragged and heavy, his chest falling fast. The bed shook under you, your vision was beginning to become hazed by the pleasure you felt. You couldn’t help it, you moaned his name out with neediness it was almost embarrassing. You cunt clenching around his cock, hoping to squeeze him off every last drop.

"So close." He moaned out next to your ear, his hot breath trickling with a bit of desperation when he felt himself become closer to his climax. The feeling of being swallowed by your warmth was throwing him into a feral overdrive.

“Oh.. Just like that. Please.” he would whine whilst his eyes kept themselves trained on yours. You couldn't help but feel as if he was trying to spear you open, but you could admit that the feeling was immaculate. The feeling of your legs tightening around his waist only made his thrusts more forcible and his voice more prominent.

This guy was really plundering you down to the depths of hell. "Inside?" He asked whispering, his brows furrowing slightly. "Inside." You would confirm, your arms wrapping around his neck.

A few hard thrusts gave before you felt his hot seed spill into your insides. He let himself ride his own orgasm out, giving a few movements before stopping while still inside you. König would fuck up into your pussy and into your cervix, making sure that you’re fed with every ounce of his cum. His breathing was shallow yet heavy as were yours. Panting, he placed a hand on your cheek, looking at you in a fond way.

“I might be seeing you more often, liebling.”

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befuddledcinnamonroll · 11 months ago

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Top 10 Things I Love About the QL Tumblr Community 2023

I'm loving everyone's end of year lists, and decided to make up one of my own.

I haven't been on Tumblr for very long and was originally just lurking. 2023 marks the year where I finally started posting, after I read a take that made me feel compelled to come to a fictional character's defense. (Saengtai, my poor little blorbo).

So in commemoration of my first proper year of active tumblring, I present what I love about this community (in no particular order).

(Side note - Technically I know this is still primarily a BL community, but I like to say QL because I am trying to manifest more lesbians for us.)

1) The Gifmakers

Y'all are a good 70% of the reason I joined Tumblr in the first place. There are so many show moments that I want to relive, but without having to search through videos. Sometimes I want to appreciate the aesthetics. Sometimes I want to remember adorable or goofy moments. Sometimes I just want to see cute boys eating each other's faces. Our gifmakers give all of that to us, with the addition of so much creativity and style.

There's too many amazing ones to mention everyone, but I have to shout out @sparklyeyedhimbo, because the way your brain works makes me so happy.

2) The expertise

The other part of why I joined Tumblr was to learn more about what BLs were out there and what I might be missing. And holy hell. Y'all are putting in the work. Not only lists and resources for finding all kinds of QLs, like these fabulous monthly breakdowns by @gunsatthaphan, but also amazing posts that add additional context, like @absolutebl's incredibly helpful breakdown of Asian honorifics. There is so much research people do, for fun! And then they share it!

3) The meta analysis

I frickin love reading people's takes and analyses on series. I love learning, I love seeing perspectives from people with different cultural backgrounds to my own, it's all so fascinating! There's so much context we can miss due to our own privileges, or lack of knowing about various cultures, or due to whatever bubbles we've been living in. People here are just so smart, and nuanced, and willing to reflect and think about things, and also push back at each other, but generally with respect (except when you call out the dumb shit you see, usually on Twitter or TikTok, where people are being reductive and dumb about gender and sexuality).

And I've seen a few takes where people complain about analyses, and say that the director/production doesn't do everything deliberately, and we're all reading too much into it. To which I say, eh, lighten up. How people connect to and relate to media has relevance beyond what was intended. The point is we get to think and discuss and learn and grow. That doesn't happen if we don't analyze.

Special shout out here to @respectthepetty because colors mean things!

4) The wild theories

The other side of the analysis coin, the clown cars y'all drive around in with the wildest of theories. I have happily climbed into an occasional clown car, and usually I am utterly wrong (*cough* Saifah *cough*). But it's a super fun ride. I love seeing how people's brains work. I love it when y'all are wrong. I love it when y'all are right. It's beautiful.

5) Immediate acceptance

I am one of those people who knows that I have a lot of good qualities, and also, always kind of expect rejection. Blame the childhood bullies, I guess. Anyway, whenever I delve into a new space, I still feel like a total dork that no one will want to talk to. It's kind of a fraught way to move through the world, but I manage.

Anyway, I started posting my thoughts as they came up, and people are just totally cool with it. People even follow me sometimes. Even my silliest thoughts and dumbest jokes get at least a couple likes. It's so validating.

And my very silly joke about gay mafia in Kiseki has over 800 likes. I feel very seen.

6) Mutuals

I still kind of can't believe I have any. This ties in to the dork feeling above, but seriously - they are soooo cooooool. They're smart and awesome and funny, and they somehow find me worth following back, which is baffling yet wonderful. I want to squish their faces and give them many kisses (if they're into that kind of thing).

7) The self-exploration

I really appreciate how it's become more talked about how a lot of people are discovering queerness through BL, because that is so the case for me. I think it's both that I was in a bit of a hetero bubble before, and also that I'm evolving a bit as I age. I had figured out I was demi, and maybe a little bit gay, before getting in to BL, but being in this community, and seeing so many of you share so openly and freely, has made me realize it might be more than a little bit.

Either it was a new realization, or being around y'all has made me more gay. Win win, either way.

8) The weirdness

I'm weird. Y'all are weird. I love it.

9) The thirst

So many in this community are thirsty as fuck, and as someone who is in that same condition, I love that it's not just me. There are not many places where I can freely admit how horny I am as a part of my general existence.

Here? I could post about wanting to lick some random BL actor's face, and it would get a bunch of likes and some tags like #lickable, and it's just not remotely a big deal.

Also the gifmakers understand this, and give us beautiful cuts of our spicy scenes. They are genuinely too good for us.

10) The communal watching experience

There is absolutely nothing like watching along with people in the community. It is so worth the torture of having to wait week to week for new episodes. Seeing the show trend, watching the theories fly fast and furious, or the way everyone collectively loses their minds over particular moments. In a world that can feel very isolating, it's a very warm experience.

So there you go. Thank you all for being you. Here's to another year of QL shenanigans and losing our collective minds!

#bl community #ql community #bl series #ql series #thai bl

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politepiastri · 4 months ago

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"i was there, i remember it all too well" OP81 x reader

masterlist

sumbit a request!

authors note: he's so boyfriend i just want to smother him. anyways this has just took me so long as tumblr decided to delete the ending twice. many threats later and i truly wish i had the energy to make this better but i had so much fun writing it so hope you enjoy reading it!! might have got slightly lazy at the end but i think it can be forgiven due to the circumstances. my apologies anyway.

also not proofread this i get embarrassed reading my own stuff

taylor swift references as this is heavily inspired by all too well (10mv) but you don't need to know it to understand :)

✰ warnings - swearing, just pure fluff

for 2 hours you had attempted to fall asleep. tossing and turning in your bed, sighing in frustration every couple of minutes. you had tried music, the sound of rain, counting. nothing was working and you were surprised you hadn't woken Oscar up yet. you kicked the duvet under your feet in a desperate attempt of comfort, waited 10 minutes, and still nothing. well, you weren't gonna do this all night. you cautiously peeled the duvet off your body, desperately attempting to make sure Oscar stayed asleep, grabbed your phone and airpods from the table beside your bed, and tiptoed to the door, opening and closing it as quietly as you could.

you had the whole apartment memorized from the multiple times you had walked around it with your eyes closed. you'd learnt the hard way where things you needed to avoid were but just for safety, you tapped your phone and held it out infront of you. a picture of a strip of pictures you had taken in a photobooth of you and oscar in different poses. one of the two of you kissing in the middle, sandwiched by one of you two making a heart with your hands, another of you resting your head on his shoulder while he kissed the top of your head.

you had to tap the screen a few times before you got to the kitchen and could finally use an actual light source. you opened the fridge and used the light from there to see around you, also grabbing a drink. you leant against the counter, trying to connect your airpods to your phone while sticking one in your ear, scrolling through your music library to find your favourite playlist.

"y/n's playlist🎶🤍"

very original of course

you pressed shuffle and heard the first few notes of all too well 10 minute version. you placed your phone face down on the counter and just listened to the song. focusing deeply on the lyrics. you were around a minute into the song when you felt two arms wrap around your waist.

you jumped surprisedly at the touch

"oscar you just scared the shit out of me"

he sunk his head into the crook of your neck, muffling his words

"what are you doing up, its like 2am"

"couldn't sleep and didn't want to wake you up" you almost whispered

you grabbed your phone and turned bluetooth off, disconnecting your airpods and making the song hearable to both sets of ears. it was on low volume, but you made sure it was loud enough to hear, something about the darkness made you feel the urge to be quiet. you placed your phone down on the counter once again, as he swayed your hips slowly.

"your abuse of the poor duvet woke up me like an hour ago"

"it deserved it i suppose"

you both chuckled as he moved one of his hands away from your waist, searching the air around it for your hand. when he found it, he intertwined his fingers with yours and began to stroke your cold hand with his thumb

he took you by surprise when he raised your arm and spun you under his arm to face him. you could only just make out that he was smirking, probably proud of the move he just pulled.

"shall we?" he said, still holding your hand, one of his on your waist as you shifted your weight between your feet, stepping side to side slowly

"god you are honestly such a dork it melts my heart" you replied, laughing at his words

you hid your blushing face by burying it into his neck as he guided your steps from side to side. neither of the two of you had a clue what you were doing but as far as you were concerned you were dancing 'round the kitchen in the refrigerator light and you would remember this all too well

after the song had finally ended and another began playing, his hand trailed off your hip and up to your face to gently tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear before following your jawline round and cupping your face with his soft hands. His eyes looked intently into yours.

“im so in love with you y/n” he muttered, the warmth of his breath getting closer to your face.

and you truly believed it as he said it. the look of admiration in his eyes was everything. this was all you ever wanted. true, genuine love and it was all you had in return for him.

he hesitated for a moment before leaning in and letting his lips connect to yours. you knew he must have felt the heat of your cheeks on his and the foolish grin plastered across your face.

“i love you the most.” the words hardly audible from your lips still being almost touching.

as your lips disconnected from the passionate kiss, you attached your forehead to his. for a moment, he let you stand there with just your thoughts, wondering how you got this lucky, how someone like you deserved him.

“are we staying up then?”

“we are absolutely not. you have meetings all day tomorrow osc, you can’t. as for me, i have nothing planned, so i reckon i might be.”

“y/n don’t be ridiculous, if you’re staying up i’ll keep you company. we can watch a film if you want to?”

he watched as your face lit up at the idea. an unspoken question lingered in the air.

“yes you can choose it” he rolled his eyes playfully

“only because you insisted osc” you replied, a sarcastic tone in your voice

you took oscar’s hand and led him to the sofa, the warm toned lights made the room feel romantic. you snuggled up to him as he handed you the remote. your bodies as close together as they could be, the heat from his overpowering the cold from yours.

one of his hands drew circles on the soft skin of your stomach, the other one playing with strands of your hair.

the time you had spent looking for a film to watch was hardly worth it as you felt yourself falling asleep just minutes in. oscar’s face was pressed against your hair and you felt him smile as your eyes fought to stay open.

this was all you had ever wanted. this was all you ever dreamed of as a little girl, you had found your prince and you knew every moment, every memory with him would haunt you all too well, forever and always.

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the-s1lly-corner · 1 month ago

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A miniature knife on a keychain (Jeff x Reader) (Ending 3)

Ending three for the 7MIH x CRP series we are slowly chipping away at the characters, hooray! As per usual there will be a poll at the end of this to choose another character for the 4th ending! Currently thanking tumblr for adding a poll option for 3 days because... i am too impatient to wait one week to work on a new ending... grrr.... and 24 hours is way too short for this imo notes: reader is gn, jeff has zero experience to the shock of you and probably everyone reading this, LET ME COOK CWs: vulgar comments but it's tame enough, better to tag though word count: 1.8k

You reach your hand into the hat and pull out…

A keychain with a small charm on the end… “Who’s is this?” You mumble out loud as you fiddle with it. A tiny knife. Pointy but not enough to actually do any damage. A hand is put on your shoulder with enough force to shift you slightly. “That’d be mine Babe,” Jeff grinned down at you- practically bearing all of his teeth right in your face. He pulls himself away and leans backwards to Toby. You hear him mutter something to him about tough luck, and in a louder voice, “Make sure to time me, I’ll have them back after the time’s up,” He clicked his tongue against his teeth and attempted to wink.

It only looked like his eye was trying to scrunch closed.

You don’t even realize his hand is still on your shoulder until he gently tugs you up by your top. “Come on, into the closet- them’s the rules,”

You rise to your feet and shuffle to your feet and let Jeff lead the way to the designated closet for the game. “After you,” He chuckled. He shuts the door behind him and leans into the corner. There was hardly any light, but the way the dimness bounced off of his face… You were used to how Jeff looked, but the lighting was not doing him any favors as he seemingly waited for you to make your first move.

When you didn’t he broke the silence.

“Sooooooo…” You could hear him patting his hands on his thighs as he searched for the words to say. “Anything you’re into?”

It’s so straight forward, so casual in how it leaves his mouth. It takes you off guard, actually.

“Uhmm…”

“I mean we don’t have to do anything if that’s what you’re worried about, general question, really,” He chuckled as he folded his legs under him and sat on the floor. You did the same, only about a foot away.

“I’d thought you’d be taking charge since you…” You raised your hands and… you didn’t know what you were trying to do but the point seemed to be understood. “It’s more fun seeing you struggle,” Jeff grinned- the act alone stretched his lips impossibly thin, the cuts in the sides of his cheeks allowed him to really push it across his face.

And for a moment, you wondered how kissing him would work. You swat the thought away, but it proved useless as your mind hooked itself on curiosity.

“People usually kiss during this game, right?” You ask, catching Jeff off guard for just a split second. In an instant his widened eyes relax. “That what you want? I’ll let you know I’m a biter,” He chuckled under his breath. You only stare at him blank faced.

“You’re serious?” He leaned back on his hands and stared at you. If this wasn’t the same guy who constantly talked himself up you would have thought you heard some surprise- shock?- in his voice. “I wouldn’t bring it up if I wasn’t,” You try to mimic his previous grin but you only find yourself feeling a little silly. You let your face fall neutral again as his eyes darted all over you. “Well shit, man,” He chuckled under his breath with a shake of his head. “Show me what you got then, don’t expect it to be nice though,”

“If you bite me I’m kicking,”

“Fair enough,”

He didn’t make a move towards you, instead he put closing the gap onto you.

And you do.

You close your eyes and begin to lean forward, you have to readjust how you’re sitting just so you don’t fall forward and into the man in front of you- he didn’t make any adjustment to his own position, still leaning backwards against the wall. You pucker your lips and-

Your lips press against something wet, and your eyes instantly snap open. Jeff sat in front of you, and while looking you dead in the eye his jaw hung open- wide enough that he could probably fit both his fists inside his mouth- sticking his tongue out forward. It took a horribly long moment to process just what in the hell he thought he was doing.

He expected tongue.

You reel away and grimace, “What the fuck,”

“What-”

“Why- that’s not how you kiss someone you know that right?” You rub your hands against your temple and try to keep a straight face. You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry. You almost do both as you recall a particular image you saw on your phone months ago- depicting exactly what Jeff had just done.

You inhale sharply.

“You’ve never kissed anyone before have you?” You ask half joking.

Jeff doesn’t immediately answer.

“You haven’t kissed anyone before,” You decide and he waves a hand in front of your face. “I mean it’s not that big of a deal-”

“Honestly you seemed like the type to blow through partners,”

His hand tenses and he shoots you a look. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” He hissed.

“Just thought you’d have… I don’t know, experience? With at least someone?”

It’s quiet for a second.

“No one?”

Jeff groans as he leans his head back against the wall. “Look when you’re going about sticking your knife in people you don’t have a lot of time sticking your dick in anything,”

“Gross.”

“Point is,” He quiets you, “No I’ve never kissed anyone. There. Happy now? Make fun of me all you want I don’t give a flying fuck. I wasn’t saving it either so before you think I’m one of those kinds of people then-”

“I don’t think it’s anything to be ashamed of, everyone’s been there before you know?” You shrug. What else can you do? Nothing you say will change anything. “You said you were a biter though?”

He waved you off. “I’m pretty sure I would be one… you wanna confirm that for me?”

You considered… you were previously about to kiss him anyway with that warning and that didn’t stop you earlier… but there was no way in hell you were going to let him pull the tongue maneuver again.

“You don’t look so bad, I don’t think you got it in you,” You tease as you close in. You stop a few inches away from his face. “It’d suck if the next person you got with had to deal with you not knowing how to do anything, with what you tried earlier,”

He opens his jaws but you push them closed. He almost looked offended.

“You open up too wide, it’s like you’re trying to eat my face… maybe you’re into that but most people probably aren’t,”

“I’m going to bite you,” He muttered, but he doesn’t make any movement to push you away from him. Actually he could bite you right now if he wanted- you were close enough- but he continues to remain still in place. “If you want to figure it out on your own you’re free to say no,”

You slip your hand away from under his jaw but before you can really begin leaning back onto the floor Jeff grabs your wrist and tugs you back into his face.

Chapped lips brush against yours for a minute causing your heart to skip at the sudden contact. He practically hisses right in your ear, but he sounds so fired up that you can hardly make out what he said. You only catch the tail end of it as he seemingly regained control of himself.

“If you think I’m going to let this slide without getting some you’re dead wrong,”

He sounded utterly humiliated as his hot breath pulled further away from your ear. He stares dead in your face and takes one last deep huff of air and lets it blow into your face.

“So how am I supposed to do this? Do I just mash my mouth into yours or-”

“There’s no mashing- look just…” You mutter and compose yourself. “You almost had it a second ago actually, just…” You think. You didn’t know how to truly explain exactly what to do, and you almost felt like asking if he can still pucker his lips would be an insult.

Without giving it much of a second thought you press your lips to his. Jeff nearly jumps out of his skin from the suddenness but he keeps himself locked to you. He lets go of your wrist and slips his hand away somewhere out of sight.

Your hovering hand finds its way to his cheek- being careful not to hook your fingers into his mouth through the cuts of his cheeks. To your surprise he actually leans into your palm.

The kiss goes on for a few more seconds, due to the need of air and because of someone outside loudly knocking their fist against the closet door.

“ONE MINUTE!” Toby calls out through the outside of the door.

Was time almost up?

You wipe your mouth clean and glance to Jeff who seems to need a minute to gather himself. You didn’t say anything, but you knew if your places were swapped he would be giving you flack for becoming so unraveled over a kiss.

“Come on,” You rise to your feet and use the last half minute or so to smooth out your clothing. Jeff finally pushes himself up off of the floor a few seconds before Toby swings the doors wide open. “Out you t-two,” He jerks his head to the side. You tug on Jeff’s arm and walk him out into the hallway. The light seems to bring him back to reality. He makes a face to Toby as you tug him down the hall.

Toby returns to the living room, leaving the two of you alone.

“You said you were a biter?”

“I’ll fucking get you next time.” Jeff hisses through clenched teeth. You glance at him.

Next time.

You hadn’t even considered the possibility that there could be one after this.

“Well you wanna go ahead and try to stick to your threat?” You grin at him. Jeff stares at you hard for a long moment.

“I’ll draw blood,” He matched your expression.

“Uh huh sure, sure whatever makes you feel tougher,” You wave him off. “You need chapstick by the way, like. Badly.”

“You-”

You cut him off before he can continue. “Maybe another day though, I need to go scrub my tongue off after that first attempt,” You weren’t going to let him live this down.

“See you tomorrow?”

Jeff’s mouth hangs open before he screws it shut. His mouth struggles for a second, but in a forced voice to attempt to sound unbothered- a fail mind you- he wishes you goodnight.

#creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta imagine #crp x reader #crp x you #crp imagine #jeff the killer x reader #jeff the killer x you #jeff the killer imagine #canon x reader #canon x you #x reader

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peroxiddeprincess · 2 years ago

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✭ Dumbification with Simon “Ghost” Riley. Fem!reader

CW: dirty talk, daddy kink, teasing, praise, degrading, dumbification (obvi), objectification, thigh riding, mentions of breeding, overstimulation

Note that is is NOT age play. I don’t write that weird shit.

A/N: i am SO down bad for dumbification. Simon has the perfect voice for it too…. This is nowhere close to realistic, but this is Tumblr, baby! Nothings realistic. (ALSO THIS IS THE FUCKING THING THAT TUMBLR DELETED HALFWAY THROUGH LIKE 4 TIMES.) ANYWAY! Hope u enjoy my babies🥹🫶

You sitting all pretty on his lap, gazing up at him. His balaclava is still on, and you’re too far gone to tell whats going on underneath. He’s definitely feeling powerful.. You could feel the dominance radiating off of him.

“Baby,” He coos, “You didn’t answer me.” Your pout slowly turns into a confused look, cocking a brow. “..What?” You mumble. You can tell he’s grinning now.

“What’d you do today?” He questions once more. “I.. I uh..” You search for words that just won’t pop up. You’re getting frustrated. “I did.. I did things. P-productive things..”

“Yeah? Like what? Paint a clear picture for me, love.” You barely register what he says, panting. “Y-yes..?” You answer. “Yes? That’s not what i asked. Details.” He sounds demanding, yet gentle, making your mind fuzzier than it already is.

You whimper. He sighs, taking pity. “Okay, okay.. No need to talk or move.. Let yourself melt in daddys hands..” He shifts you a bit, holding you in a tight grip.

“Yes daddy..!” You mewl, causing him to shush you. “Tsk, tsk. Shh shh. Keep quiet baby, and listen to me.” He says, you nod.

“Good girl. What a good little girl you are…” He praises, “Dont you worry, princess. Daddys gonna take good care of you.”

This elicts a soft whine from your throat, gulping quietly. “Such a pretty, dumb thing, aren’t you?” He questions. You nod again.

“Oh… Such a stupid, dumb little girl. Can barely form a sentence.” He pities. “I wonder what would happen if i were to let go of you… Would you fall, would you catch yourself? I’m almost curious..”

His hands loosen their grip, and you tumble a bit to the side. “S-simon! Don’ let go.. Don’t wanna fall..” You beg. “Please..!”

He chuckles at your needy voice. “I was just teasin’ you baby doll. M’not gonna let you go, you’re not goin’ anywhere. I’ve got ya’.” His grip tightens again and he straightens you upright. You shake your head with a pout.

“Meanie..” You mumble, barely audible, but just enough for him to hear. “I don’t think i’ve been too mean just yet. I can show you mean, my princess..” He leans in close to your ear, voice dropping a couple octaves. “Since you think i’m so mean, why dontcha’ tell me why you think so, hm? Use your big girl words.” He taunts.

“I- um.. Daddy was gonna let me go! T-that’s why!” You huff softly, tugging at his shirt. “Off…” You mumble. “Off?” He questions. “Daddy.. Off..” You tug at his shirt, making him grin.

“Ooh, i see. Baby girl doesn’t want her daddy to let her fall..” He’s ignoring your request, making you frustrated. “Daddy..! Off, please!” You beg, pulling on his shirt harder.

His eyes narrow. “You want me to take my shirt off, angel?” He cocks his head to the side. You nod enthusiastically. “How am i supposed to hold you and take my shirt off at the same time, hm? Thought you didn’t wanna fall.” He teases. You whine and kick your feet a little.

“I wont fall, daddy, please!” You beg once more. He obliges, Tugging his shirt off and throwing it to the side as you watch in awe, leaning your head against his chest to feel his muscles underneath you.

“Such a smart little one you are.. You managed to hold yourself up..” He’s sure to emphasize smart, catching you completely off guard as tears start to form in the corners of your eyes. “No..! Not smart, Daddy, Take it back!” You whine, shaking your head quickly as a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Oh, my dumb baby girl,” He says, hands moving up to your waist. “You don’t like when daddy tells you how well you put that pretty mind to use?” He interrogates.

“No!” You shake your head again, letting out a soft cry and digging your nails into his chest. “Poor thing..” He sympathizes, giving you faux puppy eyes. “You know you’ll always be daddy’s dumb, pathetic princess.”

You bite your lip. “..P-promise daddy?” You hold your pinky out. He wraps his pink around yours. “Yes, baby. I promise.” He moves his hand to grab your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “You’re so, so cute.” He praises, pushing his thumb into your mouth. You quickly start to suck on it, making him curse under his breath and press down on your tongue.

“Yeah baby, that’s right. Focus on keeps daddy’s fingers nice n’ warm.” He groans, staring at your lips. You start to slowly grind on his thigh, moaning quietly around his fingers as your arousal pools in your panties.

He takes quick notice to what you’re doing, bouncing his thigh gently making you moan a bit louder. “Oh, good girl. Good fucking girl.” He rubs your back with his other hand, swirling your tongue around his thumb and speeding your movements up.

Him rubbing your back quickly turns into his hand back on your hip, making you grind into him faster.

“Trying to get off in my lap, yeah? What a stupid whore i have on my hands.” You cry out at the pressure, mumbling begs and pleads around his finger and gripping his shoulders.

“Your brain is leaking from your pussy, all over daddy’s lap…” He says, “That’s okay, my princess. Feel good for me.” You start to drool all over him, dripping down onto his chest and all over his hand.

“Can’t think of anything but bouncing on daddy’s thigh and keepin’ his fingers warm. Trust me baby doll, i know, i know..” He says against your forehead, hot breath coming through the balaclava.

Your thighs clench around him and you cum in your panties, whining and grabbing at his wrist to shove more fingers in your mouth. He happily obliges, replacing his thumb with his pointer and middle fingers. He continues to make you grind on him, bouncing his thigh a bit more and shoving his fingers to the back of your throat.

“Good girl, baby. Making a mess all over me..” He says, voice thick and sultry with arousal. The gagging and pressure quickly makes you cum yet again, not even 30 seconds apart from your last orgasm.

“Cumming again for me so quickly, god baby. You’re just the perfect little toy for me, arent you?” You nod, twitching and digging your nails into his shoulders.

He slows his thigh, loosening his grip once again. “Such a drooly baby, you are. Oh, what a mess..” He coos. A fresh batch of tears begin streaming down your hot cheeks.

“I know you want more, sweetheart. Whatcha’ want? Cant give you what you want unless you tell me..” He says, making you tremble.

Dragging your head away from his fingers, you moan, “Breed..” He chuckles, pressing you against the back of the couch.

“You want daddy to breed you?” He says, and you nod quickly. “Well then, baby,” He starts,

“You’re in for a rough fuckin’ night.”

#cod mwii #call of duty mw2 #cod mw #call of duty #call of duty x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost cod smut #call of duty smut

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yunarim · 1 year ago

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╰┈➤ summary : you and your reliable partner grim are the most famous interdimensional travelers under the Official Isekai Association. you're used to traveling into psychological thrillers and horrors. however, this time something goes wrong, and you suddenly turn into the protagonist of… an otome game?!

— characters : jade leech, leona kingscholar | kalim al-asim, azul ashengrotto | lilia vanrouge, idia shroud

⌞tags⌝ : gn reader, fluff at times, angst (i'm offering EXTRA angst and drama for lilia & idia for you today), mentions of death, idia's part being quite dark actually, BUT there's a happy ending (or i think so but feel free to allegorize as you please! :))

— w.c. : 14.8k+

⌞notes⌝ : thank you for reading everyone!! it was really fun to write, and now i'm off to the uni activities (let's hope i'll have more spare time than i think i will so i can be more active on tumblr). i even thought to make this fic a bit longer (up to 200+ pages or so?) but due to lack of time i just had to make it shorter :(( but i hope you had fun reading!! thank you for all the support you've shown ^^

“Oi henchman,” Grim poked at your cheek, a strong smell of tuna coming from him. “How much percent does that bat-guy have?”

“Bat-guy?..” You asked, a dim and dull voice coming from the pillow you buried your face into. “Do you mean Lilia Vanrouge?”

“Yeah, him,” Grim’s tail tickled your ear. “I’ve met him so many times during your previous walkthroughs it’s insane.”

“Huh? You’ve met him more than me?.. I believe I’ve encountered him thrice or so.”

“It’s like he was always there.”

The dismal mood which glued to you firmly happened to tremble slightly at Grim’s statement. If he has met Lilia continuously, then how in the world did you miss him? He was there occasionally, twice you’ve met him in Leona’s route, but other than that? Lilia Vanrouge resembled a mystery under a dark lacy veil.

“Tell me about him,” you requested. “His profile is pretty confusing.”

“How come?”

“First, the difficulty of his walkthrough is 100%.”

“Fugnya?!”

“Second, his traits are fairly… uncommon. Not to mention his age is unknown.”

“Shit,” Grim cursed. “Can’t believe how tough that Idia guy will be.”

“Don’t mention him. I’m not sure if I can survive Lilia’s route.”

“Survive,” Grim repeated, crawling under the blanket. “You haven’t used this word since we first landed in our first thriller. What, do you think that Lilia dude will kill you just because he’s a bat or something?”

You chuckled, making a strange noise, and thought to yourself that no, he won’t kill you for sure—you couldn’t die twice—but he will deprive you of your mental stability for certain. And with heart beating in blind anguish you tapped on Grim’s paw to feel less stressed out, turning to him.

“Okay so,” Grim sighed and started. “Be careful, henchman. I don’t think I’m ready to see your face after you complete his route. Dude’s dangerous.”

“Ha!”

As if you didn’t know that yourself.

You never knew where Lilia would appear. In Leona’s route you’ve met him just on a fortunate occasion, and not to mention your savings ran out to the point you had only basic transmigrator features left: to save the game and to load it, to see the indicator above people’s heads, to get auto-save once you finish another route, to be able to see person’s profile and such.

So you came up with another idea. Since Grim was the one who witnessed Lilia during every route you’ve passed, you requested help from him directly. That’s why he went to the school yard, and you decided to go to auditoriums.

Classes ended, and you started searching from the classroom where 3-E class lessons were, stumbling upon Trey Clover, who apparently was Lilia’s classmate. He was gathering his things, and now that you thought about it, ‘side’ characters also experienced strange emotions towards you. For instance, Floyd had to appear curious about you, once mentioning to Grim—which your partner told you not directly, but in his sleep—that he would love to make an acquaintance with you, because you somehow ‘fit Jade’s vibe’ or so.

You wondered how Clover would react and approached him.

“Good afternoon,” you said, stretching out your hand for a handshake. “I’m Yuu.”

“Hello.”

Trey smiled at you politely, but the look in his eyes appeared to possess an uncertain curiosity.

“I’m Trey Clover,” he said, accepting your handshake. “You are the directing student, right? You’re quite popular around here, but it’s always impossible to meet you, ha-ha.”

“Y-yes?.. Why is that?”

“Why are you popular, you mean?” You nodded. “We’ll… Lilia always talks about you. Which is interesting, he always wonders where you could be. It’s quite unusual for him.”

“Ha-ha, how peculiar… I also wonder where he is right now. Possibly you have an idea?”

“Oh? With how often he mentions you I thought you two are good friends. Or something more~”

You jolted, forcing a smile. Clover, of course, had no ill intentions, but his words were poisonous to you.

“How could we…”

“Somehow you two have the same energy…” Trey shook his head. “No, forgive me, I’m just talking to myself. Anyway, I don’t know where Lilia would be, but the club meetings should start soon. Maybe you should go and look—”

“Light Music Club class, right?”

“You sure you don’t know where he is?” Trey chuckled. “Sorry. Well then, I’ll get going. See you!”

“Yes… see you. Thank you.”

Strange. No matter how you looked at it, it was strange to the bone. Clover just confirmed what Grim saw — Lilia obviously entailed an unconcealed interest in you, provided he not just was there in other routes, but also talked about you. But what was the reason for him to do it? He didn’t know you, unless there was an error occurring in the system and ruining the whole story, but it certainly wasn’t anything. So why would he…

You opened the Light Music Club room’s door and glanced over it quickly, noticing Lilia wasn’t there. Alright, you had some time to sort out your thoughts alone before encountering Vanrouge in person, so you came in, closing the door, and observed the room. Music sheets were scattered everywhere quite chaotically, and dust particles were flowing under sunbeams breaking through the opened window.

“Hm, that one song…” You grabbed a music sheet, recognizing the song’s lyrics. “I think I saw it before.”

It certainly was a remix, something reminiscent of an old folk song you’ve heard once, transmigrating into a horror fantasy novel. It sounded quite romantic and nice, very light and joyful, something unostentatious that helped you during hard times. Horrors were always energy and emotion draining, but this song could bring you some sort of a rewind.

You smiled, seeing that not much changed in this version, but without any notes you couldn’t figure out for sure how it sounded, so the original tune just slipped out of your tongue.

Enjoying the sound and the light feeling in your chest, you finally managed to feel genuinely free and happy, just like Kalim wished for you to be, and you positioned yourself on the windowsill, seeing people down there on the school yard passing by.

“I remember like it’s yesterday,” you’ve sung, opening the system’s tools and checking Lilia’s profile. “When I was having hard time being lonely.”

Indeed, there was no age mentioned. How very strange, you thought, but also tried to remember how old you yourself were when you started wandering around the worlds, like a ghost haunting the mansion, finding no peace and always trying to reach for something significant.

“The unfamiliar atmosphere,” you’ve continued singing. “The fearful thrills, now I know…”

In fact, you didn’t know anything. An unpleasant pricking sensation in your heart caused you to stare at Lilia’s image for an uncertain amount of time.

“Including my immature heart…”

You knew the next line in the song, but thought it would be best to refrain from singing it, when you realized it didn’t suit you at the moment. No matter how hard you wanted to escape this place and let everyone be happy, you still couldn’t and—

“You made me to think of those as good memories~”

You blinked, hearing obviously not your own voice, and now that you noticed, didn’t Lilia’s profile image turned not so transparent as usual?..

“Hm? Why would you stop singing?”

A popped up system window abruptly closed at once, and you saw Lilia hanging upside down and floating midair just before you.

“What the.. Isn’t it the second floor?!”

“Now now,” Lilia sneaked into the room, plunging on the sofa, and looked at you with a sly smile, yet a kind and feignedly naive look in his eyes. “Sorry for scaring you! Although I’m not sure if I did, you don’t look like passing out.”

“And why would I?”

“Well, magicless humans don’t usually see people hanging upside down. I was ready to catch you if you fell out of the window.”

“Huh, thanks for your kindness I guess?.. And I believe I’m just not the person to be easily impressed.”

“Hmmm~” Lilia grinned at you. “Still, how wonderful that you know the original sound of the song. When I asked Cater and Kalim, they mentioned they never knew it was a remix in the first place.”

“Kalim…” You mumbled to yourself, not knowing that Lilia heard you, then shook your head. “Uhm, it’s a… popular song in my original world.”

You didn’t even remember the world you were born in. Was there any magic and you were the one to not be blessed—or cursed?—with this ability, or was it a completely magicless world in the first place?

Now matter how hard you’ve tried, you never managed to remember at least a glimpse.

“Oh really?” Lilia smirked. “How old are you, Yuu? It’s quite an old song.”

“I’m…”

Your physical age was the one at which you died, and after that you could refer as you pleased. At first there was a strict system which highly depended on an employee’s age, and there were tasks and stories requiring certainty, but as your bosses explained, there were not so many people ready for the horror stories, so they allowed people who were physically and externally old enough to buy appearance changing abilities.

As for you, a similar case happened once when you needed to appear a bit older than you looked. But other than that, how old were you actually, if you were to consider the years spent while traveling to other dimensions?

“I’m 18,” you replied. “And you?”

“I might appear younger than I actually am, so let the surprise remain till the end, what do you think?”

“O-okay?..”

Lilia giggled at how unsure yet accepting your answer was.

“What a beautiful song, really.”

“I believe so too,” you nodded. “But uhm, Lilia, could I ask you about something?”

“Go ahead!”

“Clover said that you… talk about me quite often. Is that true? Why would you do that?”

For a mere second the gleam in Lilia’s eyes disappeared, but you couldn’t say for sure what kind of emotion shadowed his face.

“Ha-ha, there’s something majestic about you. Makes me wonder if you’re really that cold and serious as you appear.”

“Excuse me?..”

“Ah, don’t get me wrong~” Vanrouge jumped off the sofa, then appeared before you in a flash, examining your face and making you flustered all of sudden. “Yes, that’s what I’m talking about. You seem so mournful and wintry at times, but we just exchanged fairly mixed emotions, didn’t we?”

“What do you mean by ‘mixed’?” You asked, averting your gaze.

“You show just a bit of emotion around certain people, so I wondered what it takes to make you smile.”

You knitted your brows together, glancing askance at him, and met Lilia’s widened in surprise eyes. You shrugged away the confusion grown in you and approached him, non-verbally asking if he was okay due to the sudden disturbance, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Sorry~” He smiled. “It’s just that you… No, nevermind.”

“You’re strange, Lilia Vanrouge.”

And again he looked as if the world was about to cease within a second, and with similar impetuosity disappeared.

“So are you,” he grinned. “In any case, I’m glad I finally found you. Make sure to be more careful when you go somewhere alone, okay? And don’t sit on windowsills.”

“What are you, my dad?” You chuckled, but the depth and a hint of despair stored in his eyes made you swallow your joke. “Okay, I will. Sorry for making you… worry?”

Just how strange Lilia was, really. Not only did he talk vaguely and in riddles, but also appeared to be worried about you, however what was the reason behind?

“Just stay ali… safe. That is enough for my ha—”

“Lilia, we came!! How about we— Huh?”

And the day couldn’t be worse than it already started. Kalim and another person, who you remembered to be Cater Diamond, also a member of Light Music Club, entered the room with Kalim abruptly stopping talking when he saw you.

“Oh, Yuu?” He approached you, taking your hands in his and causing you to bite your lip to not say anything. “Hello! I’m Kalim Al-Asim, but you can call me—”

“Kalim, yes?” You answered before him, making Kalim part his lips slightly before continuing.

“Yep!! But uhm, Yuu, why do you look so dreadful? You should smile, I know you look so bright when you do!”

Cater and Lilia blinked at him, when you couldn’t help yourself but actually reciprocate Kalim’s generously huge smile.

“See! You’re so cute, Yuu! Just as I’ve told you!”

“Yuu-chan is surely cute,” Cater said. “But uhm. How did you know that? I don’t think you two met before?”

“Right,” Lilia nodded. “I do wonder, too.”

“Oh,” Kalim gasped. “Actually, I don’t know… It just happened.”

You clenched your shirt in your hand, but didn’t stop smiling, not noticing Lilia staring at you.

And also his heart filling up just slightly.

You’ve started questioning if Lilia’s route was really that hard as the system calculated. He was openly showing his unconcealed interest for you, and also he was the one approaching and finding you everywhere before you could even think about searching for him yourself.

He was ready to help you with anything, and he also was quite willing to listen to what you could tell, when you came up with ideas of what you two might talk about. Creating the ways of starting conversations was the hardest part, as you really didn’t know what was safe to say and what wasn’t.

But what confused you the most was Lilia’s heart icon.

Normally it would fill up thrice, or just twice in Kalim’s case, but Lilia’s one was inconsistent, wavering and uncertain, as if he himself couldn’t decide what he should think of you. After that one talk you had in the Light Music Club’s room you saw that there was a liquid in his heart, and the day after it just…

Disappeared.

You never knew it could happen and at first you were scared you'd fail, then you felt a relief that maybe there was a mistake in the system and you’ll be sent to the office shortly, but you never were. The system indicators were absolutely fine and showed no errors occurred, so the problem was in Lilia himself.

You could just say something, and the liquid in his heart would fill up to its third, then say something not so very different or surprising, and it would dissolve again. You asked Grim whether he knew something, but he also didn’t, so now your main task was to figure out what the hell was happening.

Maybe that was that 100% of the difficulty level of his route, but it still seemed simple with how devoted Vanrouge was, always meeting you and spending time with you.

Not to mention Lilia was strange to the point you couldn’t comprehend how you should feel about him. In the previous walkthroughs you learnt lessons, you tried to change and came to the realization you’ll never be the same, you’ve become vulnerable to no good if you were about to enter another horror or thriller.

“Yuu?”

You raised your head when you heard Lilia’s voice above you. The heart was filled to its third, and Lilia bent over to look at the book you were reading.

“Oh,” he said, taking a seat beside you under the tree in the school yard. “Right, there’s a magic history exam coming up that you first years will take, correct?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “I’ve been reading about Briar Valley’s war period.”

Lilia’s gaze turned more serious, which you’ve noticed, knowing he came from this country according to his profile, and didn’t want to pursue, so as to not recall unpleasant memories, but Lilia suddenly smiled and took the book you were holding in his hands.

“Okay let’s have a revision then!!”

“Huh?” You blinked. “But I haven’t read much and…”

“I’ll help, I’m good at history.”

“Alright…”

“So!” Lilia exclaimed. “Let’s see… What can you tell me about the pre-war period? The state of the people during the time.”

Despite how cheerful and friendly he tried to look, his eyes full of despair made you frown, but you tried to stay focused, and answered.

“Before the intervention happened,” you started. “The leadership of the Briar Valley took a number of political steps that attribute to the causes of the war, which are the nationalization of the means of production, banks and large-scale industry and the solution of the agrarian question in accordance with the program of the Briar Valley’s leadership, contrary to the interests of the landowners, which provoked the resistance of the previously ruling classes, who lost their property and…”

“Yuu,” Lilia interrupted you. “I see you’re quite knowledgeable and will definitely pass. But hm… Would you be so kind as to tell me what would you do if you were in common people’s shoes?”

“Me?” Your eyes widened. “Why?”

“Among people who lost everything and had nothing to do to escape this state were not so many people as calm as you are. So I’m quite…. Interested in your point of view.”

“I don’t think I can answer that?..”

“Alright, then… Let me rephrase that. If you were in the situation where you could save someone dear to you or save yourself, who would you choose?”

Lilia closed the book he was holding, and lowered his gaze, his pupils almost fading in a scary sorrow that slided down his eyes.

His route wasn’t just a simple one where he could just fall in love with you, or where you needed to fall in love with him — you still couldn’t. The feelings you’ve carried towards others weren’t love in its romantical way, as you thought, but your emotions that arose when communicating with Lilia resembled a huge ball of tangled multi-colored threads of different textures. Some were rough and even scabrous, like sandpaper, while others resembled flowing silk enveloping the mind and warming the heart.

And maybe that is precisely why his walkthrough happened to be so tough.

“Of course,” you looked straight up at him. “The dearest one. I’m not scared of dying.”

You looked at him in surprise when the liquid in his heart rose with a spring to the max, causing you to gasp and almost scream, but then something absolutely inadmissible happened.

His heart broke with a rattling sound, the liquid dissolved and disappeared, leaving just a glassy empty cracked vessel floating above his head.

“Lilia!!” You cried out, receiving a bitter smile from him.

What just happened?!

“Just as I thought, Yuu.”

“What do you mean?.. Are you alright?”

“Hm? Why would you ask that?”

“That was so sudden… Are you not satisfied with my answer?”

“This is not something I can enjoy for sure, don’t you think?” He chuckled. “But don’t worry, I just… I think I hoped you would choose yourself.”

“But… why?” You asked, your trembling hands being covered with Lilia’s steady ones. “I don’t understand. I won’t change my answer, but isn’t it only natural?”

“I think for kind people, such as you, it is. I would do that myself, there’s no denying. I already did once and… In any case,” he fixed a strand of your hair. “It just made me realize you probably don’t value your own life yourself.”

You looked at him confusedly.

“Why would you think so?”

“Who knows,” he shrugged. “But it’s quite… upsetting. You resemble them so much…”

Them? You wondered who he meant by referring like that, but it was a valuable clue in how to finish his route, which by now resembled not just a walkthrough of a silly otome game character, but an extremely confusing, yet holistic individual.

Them, huh. Then maybe… Was your purpose not to make Lilia fall in love with you, but something else? And what would that even be?

“I need to go,” Vanrouge suddenly dropped, standing up and looking at you, who grabbed his sleeve subconsciously without thinking. “Good luck on your exams, Yuu.”

“Lilia, wait!”

He paused for a moment, trying to find something particular in your eyes, and patted your head, demonstrating a deplorable smile.

“I hope you’ll manage to find something that will make you cherish yourself.”

You stared at his distant silhouette and did not notice how a single tear rolled down your left cheek, leaving behind a crooked wet path.

Lilia’s route was surely an uncommon one. You wanted to howl with how hard the difficulty level hit you, starting from Lilia following you and helping with anything to him ignoring and avoiding you. And you knew he did that because he also suspected something about you, not just because of the words you’ve said.

And it was confusing.

You couldn’t find him anywhere, no matter what. You even tried overcoming yourself and willingly approached Kalim to ask if he knew where Lilia was, but he surprisingly didn’t, leaving you with nothing but a cracking feeling in your chest after that little interaction.

In previous routes, even if there were pauses, like Leona was just busy dealing with something, they never avoided you for about three weeks in a row. You were going insane with how you actually wanted to understand what was wrong, to figure out feelings Lilia carried within his heart, why would the heart icon break, and who were they he mentioned.

Which is why you decided to bring him a bouquet of flowers you were going to pick yourself. It was nothing much, you would probably not be able to find him at all, but at least you wanted to give him something. If your idea fails, then alright, you’ll just pass him the bouquet through his classmates or clubmates.

You remembered the forest you went to in your first walkthrough, wanting to find a mushroom for Jade. The same landscape, the same dull and cold weather, you having no equipment—it felt almost nostalgic. You didn’t plan to go deep further, just to pick some flowers without reaching the cliff you fell off in Jade’s route.

Ah of course, it was storming and thundering right when you reached the forest.

You were shivering out of the cold wind and freezing raindrops, but there was no other choice. Not to mention there were also flowers that blossomed only in cold weather and should be picked only when it’s raining. Which is why you stubbornly went further, ignoring weather conditions, and found a small meadow surrounded by majestic firs.

There was no moon in the sky, given it was covered with dark clouds, and you lowered your head, discovering plenty of beautiful flowers and starting picking them. Both your clothes and hands were covered in dirt while you picked flowers, but you didn’t seem to care, opening the system tabs and checking the meaning of certain plants. You wanted to express your feelings in a correct way without misinterpreting anything and—

“Ouch,” you clicked your tongue. “You’re quite spiky, huh…”

You pulled out a tiny flower with thin petals, noticing an unexpectedly thick trunk with sharp thorns, and felt your finger slightly paralyzed.

“Shit…” You’ve whispered, checking out the system tab. “It’s…”

“Yuu!!”

You thought you’ve misheard, because the heavy rain was getting stronger, the wind mercilessly burned the skin with its sharp breaths and howls. But when you turned, trying to recognize the silhouette which you think appeared somewhere in front of you, you were thrown to the ground, being squeezed in a strong hug.

“H-huh…”

You were surprised, you really were, and yet you felt so weak and unsteady.

“You fool,” you recognized Lilia’s worried voice. “You idiot!!”

“You’re the one to talk,” you chuckled. “Avoiding me and then cursing me. What’s gotten into you?!”

“Just don’t go,” he demanded, tightening his grip on you, lying on top of you, who was still holding the flower. “Don’t go in the same way they did. Don’t die, Yuu. I’m begging…”

“Lilia… I’m not dying, see?”

“This flower…” You felt his lips somewhere in the crook of your neck. “Is poisonous.”

Which you already discovered when pricking and checking out the file the system provided you with. It really was, but you had saved the walkthrough before entering the forest and—

“I’m not letting you die here.”

“But that’s alright, given you’ve come. I was worried and—”

“Can you please worry about yourself for once?!”

You paused for a moment. Right, he didn’t know you couldn’t die in the first place.

But did it really matter? He reprimanded you, demanded you to cherish your life, yourself…

“Lilia, tell me… Did something happen to them, so now you correlate that case with mine?”

Vanrouge took your hand in his, frowning and placing a soft kiss on the place where you were pricked, and now it was you who started panicking.

“Idiot, if it’s poisonous, then you will!..”

“I won’t.” Lilia answered. “Faes are stronger than you, humans. This little flower won’t kill me.”

“There’s no need to worry about me, too.”

“You stupid!” He cried, cupping your face in his face. “Stupid Yuu. Your pupils are almost gone, you can’t even move your hands properly already. How come you’re so calm when you’re literally dying!?”

“Why would you care!!”

You clenched your hands into fists, curling your fingers into your palms as if shivering in pain, and exhaled painfully slowly, closing your eyes.

In fact, you knew. You’ve realized just as they’re not only characters of a game you’ve crushed into, they were more humanic then you yourself were. They’ve taught you different feelings.

But from the obsessive thoughts that you really melted the crust of thick ice that covered your true essence, capable of loving; you wanted to escape from these thoughts, the stubborn belief that putting on a mask of alienation and indifference was the most correct decision was about to disappear, had you only look in Lilia’s worried eyes.

While you wanted them to be not just game characters and experience different feelings, you also desired for yourself to be a doll without any bright emotions.

“Why would I, you ask? Really?” He whispered, laughing nervously. “Fine. You do resemble my first lover who died long long ago. Just like you’re about to do, they also pricked their finger and died from poison.”

You frowned, avoiding meeting his stare.

“And they also didn’t care about themselves. They wished for me to be happy, for me to be alive. And I was there, a fae who couldn’t die that easily, witnessing their death.”

“I’m sorry for your loss…”

“Shut it,” he leaned closer to you, but there was no warmth in his actions, and squeezed your hand, which you couldn’t feel anymore. “You’re not them. You’re… You don’t care about yourself to the very last second of your life. I wanted to prevent you from getting into trouble, because I was simply scared.”

“But who am I to you? Just another mere human, what did I do for you to worry so hard?”

“Something absolutely irrational,” he chuckled.

“What? Did I just remind you of your previous lover?”

“Quite the opposite. Remember when we talked about sacrifices?”

“Yes, what about that?”

He settled into a sitting position, taking off his jacket and pulling it over you, knowing that it was useless in this situation.

“You’ve said you’re not scared of dying. My first love also wasn’t. But they chose themselves.”

“And I chose the dearest one to me…”

“They pricked their finger when collecting flowers, because there was a legend that the flower could heal. They were already on the verge of death due to illness, but… They weren’t afraid to die, yet desperately searched for a way to live.”

“Lilia, I… I’m sorry.”

He sighed, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Don’t be. I couldn’t find the reason for you to treasure your life.”

You wanted to smile at him to avoid further discussion, but at the same time… You thought that you did.

It seemed to you that there was no point in denying it, and you closed your eyes sharply, hoping to blink away this strange feeling that you really wanted to live. To live and remember everything that happened, all the emotions and tingles in the chest.

“Every time… it feels like I'm learning a lesson…” You said vaguely. “To treasure small moments, to believe in myself and others, to smile genuinely, to let myself feel loved… And now, to treasure my life.”

“Ha,” Vanrouge chuckled. “Yuu, what kind of life did you live before that no one told you the things that make you human?”

Your smile was just as nebulous as your answer.

“I’m not sure if I was human before.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind… Lilia, I… Even if I may sound stupid, please let me thank you for letting me know that I should treasure myself.”

One his smile, one his tight hold of your hand, and the bright light filling up his heart bursted out of it, enveloping you in it.

“So that was the purpose of your route, huh,” you laughed.

“Route?” He asked, drawing you closer to his chest.

“You know, I wasn’t scared of death because I can’t die twice. I would just… reload the game and start again. And now, since I’ve finished your route, I’ll get into another one. But you won’t remember that.”

“Ha!” Lilia smirked. “I’ll never forget you, Yuu. And a fae can’t lie.”

You just smiled to him, enjoying his determination and managing to reciprocate his gentle touch, not feeling anything in your hand.

┆₊ ⊹ the song in lilia's part — nct u - from home

“Something’s not right, Yuu.”

“What?..”

Everything seemed quite alright to you. Your usual post-walkthrough experience, Grim nagging about something, another route to finish, another emotion to develop, you levitating in a strange void… Wait.

Void?

“Where are we?”

Usually you could witness such a sight when transferring into another world. Familiar empty arrays, slightly interrupted by multi-colored digital fibers, waves of supersonic flew around.

“Wait, Grim!! Look!”

You pointed at the loading bar, indicating another world loading progression, and grabbed Grim’s paw, drawing him closer, being flown away somewhere further.

“The fuck?”

“Oi, language,” you said. “But… What is going on? I haven’t finished Idia’s route! I haven’t even started it!”

“This is strange.”

But the profiles popped up, switching from one to another, and you noticed Idia’s one literally smashing into your face, causing you to gasp.

“Ugh!”

Before observing what the system tab introduced to you, you managed to look at Lilia’s ‘COMPLETED’ line which became common at this point, and, sighing, switched to Idia, gasping the second after.

No portrait, no information, everything being blurred or written in ??????

Nothing.

“I don’t understand what is going on,” you said. “At all!”

“I thought we’re transmigrating to another story.”

“The boss couldn’t just let us transfer to another dimension without introducing the details.”

“That little punk.”

“Hey, he’s our boss after all.”

“Little shit who let you suffer without any warning.”

“Grim…” You smiled at him. “Alright, is there any information available?”

“Nah. Nothing at all. But I guess we’re about to figure it out.”

A bright flash ripping out the space let you know that you were about to enter another (?) world, and held Grim closer to you, ready to witness what was about to happen.

And more importantly, what happened to Idia’s route?

Digital waves floated around Idia, breaking space and distorting it. Idia squinted in discomfort and because of the crackle of sparks in the processor of his computer, when a deafening explosion was heard, and space waves came out with distorted algorithms, system errors popped up every now and then, and Idia just growled in indignation.

“Uh, the hell?”

He rubbed his eyes with the dry fingers, discovering to his delight that the soda in the can hadn't spilled from the sudden rupture of the universe, and exhaled heavily with a creak, opening the profile that flashed in the system window.

Yuu.

No surname, no age, just an occupation — interdimensional traveler (genres: thriller & horror).

“Aaah…shit.”

Idia yawned, taking a cheese chip and biting it. While looking to improve his equipment and extract materials that could be used in Ortho's various gears, one day Idia stumbled upon a very strange glitch in the system.

At first he thought it was another error he could fix, but when system windows started popping up everywhere not just on his computer’s monitor, but in freaking reality, Idia realized he maybe perhaps possibly potentially very likely needed more sleep juuuuust a bit.

Idia chuckled, unimpressed, and quickly glanced over system tabs, seeing profiles of people of this college. Wha, how wonderful, he REALLY did want to see them, uh-huh— The hell?

“Not even dorm leaders,” Idia noticed, leafing through the files. “Riddle-shi would be so pissed off he wasn’t mentioned lmao.”

What a strange order. First Jade Leech, the second year of Octavinelle, then suddenly Leona Kingscholar, Kalim Al-Asim being next…

“Yoooo, Azul-shi?” Idia chuckled, stumbling upon his clubmate profile. “What kind of game is that lol.”

The more he checked, the more he was getting confused. Alright, it wasn’t the info that couldn’t be obtained at all, after all everyone knows that Al-Asim is an extremely wealthy family, and Kingscholar is even royalty, but what was the ‘DIFFICULTY LEVEL’ parameter?

“Damn Lilia-shi is impressive for sure,” Idia nodded to himself, pulling another chip out of the package. “100% difficulty, must be hard…. Not for me tho ofc~”

If there was a difficulty level in each profile, that was probably some sort of a game, right? So Idia thought before stumbling upon his own profile being blurred completely.

“Ayo the fuck?” He chuckled in disbelief. “That’s my name!!”

Unknown difficulty level? Well that’s obvious, given he’s the boss, the main character!!..

The main character? Wait a moment.

“Yuu,” Idia mumbled and repeated. “Yuu, huh. What the hell interdimensional traveler even means?”

Some time passed with Idia investigating who the hell you were in the first place, and couldn’t find anything.

He leaned to his PC, checking out the monitors, and noticed you on one of the cameras in the school. Uh-huh, so that's where you were…

Sipping the coffee Jade Leech brewed, you enjoyed the conversation you’ve had. Idia cringed at witnessing such an awkward situation, averting his gaze and not noticing the dismal look in your eyes.

“If Yuu-shi’s main genres are thriller and horror, does it mean we here live in one, too?” Idia muttered to himself. “No wait, isn’t it like, incredible discovery, scientific breakthrough? Shouldn’t I let the world know there are more universes we imagined, and here’s living proof?”

The ‘living proof’, you that would be, was currently heading out to Ramshackle, where Idia had no cameras, thus he just decided to create your profile himself, filling out the details according to the data he was obtaining.

“Ugh,” he cringed. “Feels awkward.”

It did. You were interesting enough to know you better, but huh—he wasn’t a fool to interact with you firsthand, right?! He promised to himself he wouldn’t obtain anything that would violate your privacy, and come to think of it, your every interaction with anyone wasn’t concealed from strangers’ eyes. You were on the school grounds, it was only natural he could overhear… Shit.

“I’m garbage,” he concluded, dropping his face in his hands and sighing with a heaviness in his chest. “But Yuu’s too strange.”

Idia couldn’t let himself get some sleep. Not when your activity suddenly went up almost at night and you headed to the freaking forest! What were you thinking, really?!

But wait.

“What is that thing…”

Idia leaned closer to the screen and gasped, noticing familiar flying system tabs around you. The camera he installed was too far away to see exactly what the tabs were portraying, but there was no denying that you brought those strange flying windows when landed here in Twisted Wonderland.

And again, there were no cameras in the forest, but Idia was waiting for you to come out. It’s not prohibited to enter the forest on your own, but given it was the school for magicians, they surely could protect themselves from anything happening, however you? You possessed no magic, and Idia already checked that—you were magicless to the bone—but didn’t you think it was at least reckless to go to the forest when it was dark and cold?

He thought you were stupid, really. You didn’t come out for some time, and when he was ready to drop his face on the keyboard and faint due to fatigue, sound sensors suddenly arose, and your scream was heard.

“What’s happening there?!”

He tried checking other cameras and found the one close to the further part of the forest, which demonstrated a view near the cliff, and noticed your figure, which appeared a bit distorted on the camera, always glitching and emitting flashy sparks.

“Yuu-shi is surely something,” Idia mumbled. “And… uh? Isn’t it Jade-shi?”

No way just WHAT WAS THAT thing above his head??

A heart-shaped icon filled to its half with a pink strange liquid.

“Isn’t it like,” Idia bit his lip, eyes widening in disbelief. “An otome game thing?”

No way. Literally no way.

If you were an interdimensional traveler, that meant Twisted Wonderland was just another world you’ve entered, a book-like story with the effect of full immersion from the first person perspective, your perspective, to be precise—yeah, he got that already. But weren’t your genres thriller and horror? So what’s with that cringey heart icon and the way Jade-shi looked at you?!

There must be an error in the system you’ve brought. And wait…

If Jade was listed the first in profiles, Idia being the last… didn’t it mean that he was about to be wooed by you?!

“Ha, you wish,” he laughed nervously, his heartbeat accelerating rapidly.

The nature of that icon was yet to be investigated. Did it appear instantly after your arrival? Idia stood up, stretching and hearing an unpleasant sound of his vertebrae cracking after sitting for so long, then made his way to the mirror and frowned. There was no icon or whatsoever.

Okay, then it did mean that the icon appeared only when you enter your love interests routes, right?

He himself was safe for a time being. Interested in what the hell was going on, yes indeed, but also scared.

Didn’t it mean he needed to fall in love with you to complete the mission? And hey, why was Jade-shi so calm about it? It was obvious something wasn’t right with you, so how could he believe you so easily? Moreover, why compete with others when there literally were figures like Leona-shi or Lilia-shi?

After you were rescued and headed over to Ramshackle, he closed his eyes and plunged on the bed, ready to howl in indignation.

Days passed, and a festival with the firework show you’ve prepared came. Idia didn’t care much, being able to watch right in his room, not to mention he possessed no interest at all, watching you getting on the rooftop instead.

Jade came not so long after, and when Idia thought it was still stupid to overhear you, but he needed that to figure out how to behave and what to do, the heart-shaped icon above Jade-shi’s head suddenly started glowing slightly, filling up with pink liquid to the max.

The icon started radiating bright light, and that was when he noticed how shocked you were, how your face became overshadowed with fear and agony, and frowned himself. You looked like an anime character at the denouement of the story, but that was right when he realized himself.

If the route was coming to an end, what was about to happen with him? Will he forget everything? Shit, that would complicate his research, no no no!!

The last thing he saw before the light filled his own room was your sad yet bright smile on the screen, and then the world went out.

“Ugh…”

When Idia woke up, he noticed a strange pricking feeling in his chest, then rushed to the PC.

“You gotta be kidding…”

Your image and a progress indicator under the photo suddenly popped up in front of him.

20% of completion.

He checked Jade Leech’s profile which already turned gray and unavailable to interact with anymore, but then Leona’s profile popped up, showing 0% of completion.

“So I… remember everything?”

A strange joy blossomed in his chest for a brief moment before a realization hit, notifying that he needed to continue investigating. And that he also still was one of the targets.

“Mkay,” he muttered, getting out of bed and crawling on the chair, feeling sleep deprived and hungry. Who cared about food anyway? “Let’s continue, Yuu-shi.”

What was his role in this game though? Well, he obviously meant to be the main character with extra imbalance abilities! But after waking up and remembering everything that happened, especially your unnaturally distorted gaze, he started questioning his own purpose in this charade.

“Haiz,” he chuckled, noticing how you already found Leona-shi. Was he sniffing you?! “Damn he’s surely feline…”

“The smell, not of magic, but similar. Also like that fish guy?”

Idia knitted brows together, wondering what could Leona know. It appeared Kingscholar didn’t remember anything about you at all, but still carried a feeling that you and Jade-shi already interacted.

“So he doesn’t know that’s a game,” Idia concluded, nodding to himself and adding the obtained info to his databases, his fingers flying above the keyboard. “Which makes Yuu-shi and me the only ones who know.”

Despite how proud he was for feeling himself being so special and extraordinary, he rolled up his sleeves and scratched his head in confusion, trying to form a logically adequate chain of events and arguments in order to come to an unambiguous decision as a result, but, alas, his attempts were unsuccessful.

What scared him the most was the possibility of being the last love interest. He remembered protagonists of otome games, mainly they were kind individuals with bright personalities, or with no personalities at all. He preferred the last ones, they were close to his own blank gloomy self, to feel himself being the main hero of the story, to insert his own thoughts into the walkthrough, but you?

You weren’t so overkindly and bubbly as he first you would. Your decisions were rational at first, and you perhaps were provided with no knowledge about how romance worked, judging by your slow progression, the majority of which happened because of the natural charm and characters being enchantingly attracted to you… or so he thought.

Idia howled when a stupid thought ran across his mind at the speed of light, piercing him through and screaming ‘Yuu-shi is really charming tho…’, and quickly brushed it off, shaking his head. Argh, that was all useless!! You were aiming for his heart, not the icon, but real heart, his real feelings and the ability to love. And to hell with you, he didn’t want to love you!!

He didn’t want to imagine what happens with him when you leave.

Locks of his hair scattered all over the table when Leona-shi suddenly kissed you in front of others. Oi, wasn’t it too much?!

Idia wondered if the smile with which you replied to Leona was really genuine, or was it a perfect act for you to escape his route freely?

Days passing from route to route felt like ages. After Leona the time consumed for completing was extending, and when Kalim’s walkthrough dropped, Idia wanted to ignore you at all cost.

He could understand your previous self with an extremely concealed demeanor, rational and logical thinking, a goal to finish everything and get back home—where was it, by the way?—but as for now, you’ve started experiencing transformations of your soul.

Your emotions became more open and vivid, your normally efficient and sensible ways of thinking were affected by a variety of feelings, which Idia himself was unable to distinguish. Was it the softness of your heart or an honest desire to open up? Ugh, normies things…

“Oi, isn’t his heart already full?!”

Idia checked the icon above Kalim’s head and gasped. Damn, the system that you’ve carried around here was surely impressive, demonstrating how feelings could work. Kalim-shi was most definitely full of love towards you, why hasn't his route finished already?

Apparently a strange thing called ‘feelings’ was the problem. Being in love with you but not allowing himself to express it because he refrained himself and wished for other people’s happiness in the first place? What a strange guy. If that would be Idia…

Wait, what would he do?

“Let your own heart decide.”

Idia tensed up.

You weren’t saying it for him, but the sharp cutting sensation that pierced his chest made Idia wince at the vagueness of his emotions, and he clenched the jacket in his fist.

Will there be any feelings left for him when you get on his route?

“Shit, what an absurd way of thinking,” he laughed at himself. What a fool.

He should have avoided you at all cost!!

But actually seeing you coming to his clubmate, the one he could consider a friend, and asking for boldly falling in love with him?! Yuu-shi, you’re extremely insane, huh?

Okay, that was your purpose all along—to make Azul fall in love with you—but argh!! Hugging in a narrow staff room?!

Idia averted his gaze, questioning your emotions. Were you just collecting people like toys, limited cards in your collection, to just leave casually when it’s over? He didn’t want to become one of them, to develop at least a tiny something towards you to be left all alone. Again.

At one point Idia thought it would be interesting to watch you interacting with Vil-shi, given how perfectly you played the role of being the protagonist, the one who attracted everyone.

Yes, it was for the best. It was the simplest way to think of you like that, a villain destroying everyone’s hearts.

So that he wouldn’t feel so lonely himself.

When Lilia’s route started, Idia has woken up with an insanely strong migraine making him slightly worried. The more walkthroughs you passed, the more he was feeling strange.

“I wonder if Azul-shi will remember what Yuu-shi told him…”

Maybe he actually should have gone and checked on him, but Idia quickly shrugged the thought off.

“Oh?”

Your image suddenly appeared to be too close to the camera he installed, and Idia wondered where you were, given you were sitting on a windowsill. Okay, Light Music Club’s room. And you were…

You were singing softly. Your voice was pleasant to hear, nothing out of the ordinary, but still fairly nice to enjoy. Not to mention your dreamy face yet shadowed with a glimpse of sadness… Why were you so gloomy at times anyway? Just play your role, ugh.

And Lilia-shi was also strange. According to him, you appeared to be resembling someone… What kind of Surrealistic Messenger experience was that, huh? What were you, a Nika?

You really had no logic left, going to the forest from your first walkthrough again, huh? And it rained heavily, too, but Idia couldn’t see what was happening there. But when the bright light started beaming through the trees, Idia exhaled freely.

It was also the moment he realized.

He was the next and the last route.

You stared at the black space, hearing almost nothing, and the familiarity got you thinking that all of the things happening you had already witnessed once. Just right when you landed here in Twisted Wonderland.

You tried outstretching your hand, meeting with a thud, and you chuckled to yourself, prying off the coffin lid and removing it from the hinges, taking one step out.

“Grim?”

“Henchman…”

Grim found you, who was wearing the ceremonial robe, and you two ended up bursting with hysterical laughter, when Crowley came and noticed you…

No way. No way it was just as on your first day of transmigrating here!!

Same people, same places, same events, same dialogues…

Same mirror proclaiming you’re magicless.

Everything was just the same!!

“Grim,” you whispered to him while Crowley was searching for the books to try figuring out where you came from. You always mentioned other worlds’ places in those kinds of situations, because your boss demanded you not say anything personal. “Check out if the status of the game has changed.”

“Got it.”

You saw Grim summoning the system interface, but a sudden abrupt flash made you close your eyes for a moment, and when you opened them, you saw tabs glitching and lagging around you, distorting the space.

“What the…”

“Hm?” Crowley turned to you, apparently scanning your face, but you couldn’t say for sure because of his mask. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Crowley-sensei,” you smiled at him.

“Yuu!” Grim in your hands looked at you with widened eyes and whispered. “What’s happening with the system?!”

“I don’t know,” you answered with your lips only. “How’s the status?”

“Check it yourself…”

But before you could check, Crowley turned to you, proclaiming he can’t find the place you’ve come from. The very same scenario, you going to the Ramshackle, meeting with ghosts…

With only one small exception in the form of constantly sparkling elements of the system, alternately popping up here and there.

“Yuu, we haven’t got enough time for that. Check the genre!!!”

You instantly sank to your knees, unable to believe your eyes. Your heart thumped wildly in your chest, forcing you to turn to Grim, stunned.

“F-fantasy?..” You double-checked yourself, but then saw a window with all the profiles, their statuses still the same, Lilia being the last completed one. “But Idia’s route?..”

“And you asked me to watch my tongue,” Grim frowned. “That little shit you call our boss didn’t even leave us the way to contact him during walkthroughs!!! And what if something like that happens?!”

“It’s not about him, Grim,” you tried to recover, standing up and noticing little glitches flashing everywhere in the room. “Let’s try figuring out what we should do now.”

“Find that Idia guy and finish his route, what else, fugnya.”

You lowered your gaze.

Wasn’t it an opportunity given to you as a gift? If the genre switched from otome to fantasy, then there was no obligation to complete Idia’s route. No need to let him—and you—suffer, wasn’t it the only right thing to do?

You took a deep breath. You knew it wasn’t. Idia’s route was still marked as ‘IN PROGRESS’, meaning you still had to fulfill your duties, but also…

Wasn’t it a loophole?

“I know what you’re thinking,” Grim touched your hand with his paw. “I know you’re freaking tired of this shit, me too, but Yuu—”

“No, Grim,” you laughed at yourself, tears appearing in the corners of your eyes. “I can’t. I will not. Finish his route. Just… Let’s just enjoy the fantasy story which is supposed to be completed even without us interfering.”

Grim wasn’t sure. You yourself thought it was stupid, irresponsible, your boss will probably just drag you out of here so to reprimand—you didn’t care at all.

You wanted to avoid Idia Shroud at all costs.

Giving you credit, you actually succeeded in your desire to avoid Idia. But trouble does not come alone, and instead of Idia, who, surprisingly, couldn’t be found anywhere at all, you managed to repeatedly stumble upon people from previous routes.

But what you feared the most was the system distortion, glitches and lags.

The endless flickering of digital fibers, appearing in a chaotic pattern, pierced people. The color correction of the world broke down, jumping from exaggerated, poisonously bright colors to black-and-white scraps of space. The voices sometimes went into ultrasonics, causing you and Grim to wince in dislike. System windows danced around in a digital frenzy.

It all resembled the digital apocalypse. But even with those little ‘errors’ you could still interact with others.

But not with those who were the dearest to you.

“Y̸̘̒ũ̸ͅȗ̴͜-̷̹̎s̴͍͂ä̵̖́n̸̻̄.̵̨̚”

You turned to meet Jade’s usual polite smile, a hand on his chest.

“Jade?..” You were hesitant to speak with him at first, but a sudden mechanical corrupted voice managed to scare you. “Hello?..”

He tried saying something, but he did not move at all, not the slightest sigh, not a quivering gleam in his beautiful eyes—absolutely nothing. He was frozen.

You wanted to hurry and get someone’s help, but just when you ran away and turned for a moment to make sure he was still standing still—he wasn’t… He moved, returning to his usual routine, and turned to the suddenly approaching Riddle.

Something wasn’t right.

You were convinced of this when you stepped on Leona's tail in the botanical garden, completely forgetting about this event. His reaction was exactly the same—he was like a stone frozen in time, and, unlike Jade, not telling you anything, but the system windows were frantically jumping around his silhouette.

Kalim froze with a smile you grew to love on his face, and Azul, when he met you, apparently was going to kiss your wrist, but they all froze like broken dolls at the behest of the puppeteer.

And Lilia was nowhere to be seen at all.

“I don’t understand…”

You lamented, looking at the huge glitch, reminding you of black hole which was absorbing system tabs into itself, and you were sitting near it, outstretching your hand and feeling nothing at all.

You were immune to the system’s influence, how very ironical and—

“U-ugh…”

You turned to the voice’s source and gasped when a sudden flash of bright blue flickered before your eyes for a moment, then disappeared.

“Huh, I think I saw someone just now…”

You stood up from the grass field you were sitting on, and came closer to the tree in the school yard, hearing a ‘Eek!!!’ full of fear, and blinked twice.

“E-excuse me!!”

“Oh?..”

You saw a very tall figure hiding from you behind the tree and trying to cover his face with the hood of his hoodie.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you mumbled. “I’m Yuu. Sorry for scaring you.”

“I-if you’re sorry, then just go!!..”

Blue flames billowed from under his hood in waves, and you were surprised at how sweet the man's voice was.

“W-what are you looking at?!”

“Your hair,” you said, spellbound. “It’s very beautiful.”

“U-ugh…”

The person took his hood off, and you parted your lips in surprise.

You stared amazed at the gold of his eyes, not understanding what you were so hooked on in him, but the non-standard of his beauty completely left you speechless, and a slight glimmer of blush was born on your cheeks.

“Ah!” You exclaimed, turning away. “I’m being so rude… It’s just you’re really good-looking.. Ugh, sorry.”

“S-stop it, I’m begging. I’m not, o-okay? Now go.”

“Okay, but… What is your name?”

“You don’t need to know it…”

You looked at him, pouting and lowering your gaze, when a pink hue on the tips of his hair went unnoticed by you.

“Alright… I’ll get going then. See you later?”

“Maybe never.”

The rudeness he demonstrated somehow didn’t sound so bitter, and you smiled at him, then walked away.

“Please never interact with me…” He muttered to himself, approaching the huge glitch. “I don’t want to be the next.”

After two weeks of such randomly non-random meetings, Idia realized that, apparently, according to the law of the protagonists of otome games, there was nowhere to escape from you.

Of course, he could not really understand why the hell everything around was suddenly covered with digital holes and errors, but obviously it was related to you.

He wanted to study them himself, but the cameras he set up around the college sometimes didn't capture the biggest system bugs, not to mention they constantly popped up wherever you were for a while. Apparently others couldn’t see the world glitching, and you yourself possessed no knowledge about those errors, so he just had to go out of his room.

Even though he managed not to reveal his name for a long time—he was extremely apprehensive that you would recognize him as your last remaining love interest and start going through his route—yet you were in no particular hurry to look for him.

Didn’t you… need to finish his route and come back home? Why were you blankly staring at all those errors and glitches and doing nothing?

Not to mention that you sincerely tried to get to know him personally, never once again asking his name.

You confronted him every time he needed to investigate another huge system error that had arisen, and you simply nodded silently, smiling. The first week really passed peacefully and calmly, until something unimaginable for his consciousness happened at the beginning of the second.

“Meow-meow~”

M-meow?..

Idia was walking to the place where another hole with errors appeared, and heard your voice—it was unmistakable yours. W-what in the world were you doing?..

What he saw shocked him.

You were stroking the ear of a kitten that laid in front of you and purred, playing with it and smiling radiantly.

“Y-Yuu-shi…”

“Oh? Ah, fiery-senpai.”

“T-that stupid name again… What are you d-doing?”

You smiled at him, taking the kitten in your hands and drawing him closer to his face, placing one little smooth on his nose.

“Isn’t it cute?”

Headshot!! Huge damage taken!! Apply a HP restoring potion!!

“C-cute…” He mumbled, his hair glowing bright red. “Y-yuu-shi is… UGHM.”

“Come here.”

You took his hand in yours and made him sit beside you. Just what the audacity you had!..

The cat started purring with more intensity when Idia touched it, and you giggled at how cute the scene looming before you was.

You didn’t want to escape this reality, even with an insane amount of bugs and errors corrupting the dimension.

For a month Idia was meeting you, approaching you more and more against (in fact, not really resisting) his will. You seemed like an absolutely normal person, and it was frightening. Shouldn't the universe travelers be... different? Non-standard, possess some kind of superpowers, or easily repair these interdimensional holes? You seemed to be the most ordinary person with completely natural human emotions. Your actions were dictated by curiosity, kindness and care. You brought Idia food more than once, showed photos of kittens, respected his personal boundaries and always left without asking what he was going to do alone.

It was unbearably hard. Feelings flourished in his chest, and every day, returning to his room, Idia flopped on the bed, clutching his jacket in his fist, and repeated how crazy he was.

Feelings ate him from the inside. How the hell was that shameless and stupid!! Wasn't love in otome built on the fact that the characters went through a string of dramatic events, experienced incredible adventures, scandals, breakups and emotional declines, and then tragically confessed their love to each other?

How the hell could he screw up his one and only task — not to fall in love with you at all costs, and eventually fail miserably, and even under such idiotic circumstances?!

How could he let you take his feelings and... understand them?

“I’m pathetic,” he laughed to himself, studying the data he obtained. “But Yuu won’t know…”

He will not allow that. Maybe.

You held Grim closer to you, exhaling fresh air while sitting on the bench—which was unusual for you, who could be easily spotted on the grass or windowsill—and took a sip of a cup of hot chocolate. It was already February declaring its rights, and deepened in your thoughts.

The world was half destroyed. Multi-colored digital errors were no longer just popping up alternately anywhere, but were actively integrated into the structure, into the very subcortex of the world. The forest near the school was replaced by a digitized version, black holes in space that no one saw except you replaced entire rooms and even buildings.

To be honest, it just looked disgusting.

Previous emotional draining routes were completed, and now, when you yourself wanted to avoid Idia Shroud’s one at all cost, because you were simply scared, Idia decided to become quieter than water and lower than grass.

The information you’ve acquired was rather dull and sullen — Idia was known for being a complete shut-in, an introverted person who usually never comes out of his room. Impudently pouncing into his personal space, Ignihyde dormitory, seemed somewhat violent to you, especially taking into account that you needed to receive his love.

You wanted to respect his privacy, but also wanted to know what kind of person he is.

And just when you wanted to think about avoiding asking anyone from your previous walkthroughs, Lilia appeared before you, floating midair and smiling rather cheekily, causing you to almost spit your drink.

But more importantly, he seemed extremely alive, unlike others.

“Ugh, uh…” You coughed. “Li… Vanrouge.”

“Hm? What’s with the sudden coldness?”

“Sudden?..” You echoed, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I’m sorry, it’s just we haven’t talked much before…”

Lilia took your hand, the one that was holding Grim, who expressed an annoyed sound and stared at Vanrouge, and placed a smooch on the finger you’ve pricked in his route.

“Is that how you greet me after having all that life and death type of conversation?”

You jolted, abruptly standing up and almost dropping Grim from your lap, to which Lilia only laughed.

“You remember?!” You screamed, noticing you drew too much attention, and lowered your voice. “But how?”

“Remember I told you I’ll never forget? This is why.”

“N-no, wait… I mean, others have only tiny glimpses of memories about me, but they don’t have entire routes stored in their minds!! Not to mention they’re… Ugh.”

“Calm down, Yuu. To be honest, I’m not sure how it works, either. Tell me more about your case, we’ll figure something out. Maybe you haven’t finished my, hmmm, route, you said?”

You summoned the system tab that got almost sunk into the black hole, which Lilia couldn’t see, and checked twice and even thrice — ‘COMPLETED’ were written in caps.

“I have,” you said.

“That Idia guy’s profile also opened,” Grim mentioned.

“Idia?” Lilia repeated. “He’s your next target?”

“Target… Yes, you can say so… Do you know anything about him?”

“Quite a lot of information I normally wouldn’t share, but in your case…” Lilia frowned. “But Yuu, will you go home after finishing?”

“I… Don’t have home,” you explained. “I’ll return back to the office where I’ll be appointed to another story. But before that I’ll ask why in the world did I land here, Twisted Wonderland is not our main genre.”

“Where were you before?”

“Better not ask,” Grim advised, to which you nodded. “Nothing good.”

“Makes me want to ask more!” Lilia giggled. “But alright. Even though I don’t really want to let you go, considering I’m extremely worried about your safety… I believe you should go and ask what caused the error. As for Idia Shroud…”

You and Grim saw system tabs randomly popping up and glitching, to which Lilia tilted his head, but you shook yours, gesturing to him to continue speaking.

“He’s a nice kid, actually. A twisted one, as we all here are, but I sense no ill feelings radiating from him. He has a rather complicated personality, so I suggest you be patient.”

“Twisted, hm,” you nodded, trying to ignore glitch intensification.

“His family works under an organization dealing with phantoms and blot research. So make sure to—”

“Good morning, Lilia Vanrouge-san, Yuu-san, Grim-san!”

A robotic cheerful voice greeted you, and you stared at the appeared humanoid with… was that fire on his head?.. Wait a second.

“Oho~” Lilia smirked. “Morning, little Shroud.”

Little Shroud?.. Did Idia have a brother?

“Good morning,” you greeted him. “And you’re?”

“Ortho Shroud!” A child humanoid introduced himself. “Nice to meet you, Yuu-san!”

“How can we be of help?” Lilia asked.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but I need to talk to Yuu-san and Grim-san directly.”

“Oh, then you should know that I’m not leaving Yuu’s side. So if you want to talk, please don’t mind me, but I won’t leave~”

“I’m afraid I can allow that,” Ortho replied cheerfully.

You tried standing up, but staggered and changed glances with Grim, who also felt dizzy and out of place for a moment, before Ortho pulled up a tablet, which suddenly started floating on itself.

“U-uhm…” A voice was heard, coming from the tablet. “E-excuse me, Lilia-shi… B-but I need to t-talk to them… alone.”

And with that you and Grim suddenly fainted, surrounded by light sparkles and glitches flooding the space, not noticing Ortho catching you and Lilia’s furious stare.

You tried opening your eyes, and managed to do that after a minute of trying, glitches still sparkling everywhere, but not as bright as it was before.

You found yourself on a bed in an unknown place dominated by bright blue hues, you could hear the tapping of fingers on the keyboard, the faint noise of processors, and you were no longer sure if the space distortion was due to the system, or it was local computers.

“Uh…” You mumbled, trying to sit on your bed, and observed the place, noticing a figure of someone tapping on the keyboard.

You looked closely, recognizing familiar fire-like bright blue hair and gray clothes the person was wearing.

“Excuse me,” you said, drawing the person's attention and making the figure startle in shock, turning to you at once. “Huh?”

“Y-Y-Yuu-shi!!”

“F-fiery-senpai.”

He pulled up the collar of the turtleneck that was sticking out from under the gray robes and covered his mouth, looking away from you.

“Um… I’m Idia Shroud.”

You smiled weakly to yourself, actually suspecting it before, but knowing that the person you grew to love like happened to be Idia was excruciatingly painful.

It was continuous, endless torment.

Grim told you every day that you, dear little Yuu, are just a fool with a glitch in your head, since you fell in love with that ‘fiery-senpai’ so irrevocably for being just a person. The world was falling apart, and you refused to end the game, running away from solving the problem like a small child, and you understood this very well, continuing to run in circles.

“Ah!!” You exclaimed, standing up and approaching him, making Idia squeak and almost run away from you. “Oh, I’m sorry for startling you. It’s just… Actually, wait, where am I? Where’s Grim?”

“Grim-shi is sleeping in the room next door, m-my little brother Ortho assisting him. D-don’t worry…”

“That’s good…” You smiled to yourself, feeling a little relieved your partner was okay. “But still, where are we?”

“Did they just need to leave that to me RIGHT WHEN I’m in the middle of my research, ugh…” He muttered to himself, then cleared his throat. “You’re at STYX. You p-probably don’t know what it is, since you’re… Nevermind. D-dont worry, we need to run a few tests and will return you back to the NRC.”

“Sounds not like something I shouldn’t be worried about, to be honest,” you chuckled. “What kind of tests? And why me? Lilia said you study, ergh… blot here. I don’t know what that is.”

“Tch, why me…” He mumbled to himself again. “Y-yeah, Lilia-shi surely mentioned something he shouldn’t have, b-but you have no relation to blot. At least physically..”

“Look,”

You came closer to him, quickly glancing over his features and suddenly getting flustered. Despite his gloomy look and huge eye bags, he appeared to be quite cute and good-looking. You never thought your last ‘love interest’ would look like that, not to mention him having such a shy personality.

And now, knowing that the fiery-senpai you grew to like was Idia all that time, didn’t make it easier.

Everything will end once you win his heart.

And it was breaking yours.

You dramatically imitated fainting, causing Idia to jolt, and exclaimed.

“You suddenly faint,” you said, then came over to the bed you were laying on, and sat on it. “Then you wake up in an unfamiliar place…”

You came closer to him, not daring to touch him, and ended up just staring right in his golden eyes.

“... And found yourself alone in a room with a complete stranger.” You said, averting your gaze. “Quite handsome, though.”

Idia in front of you bit his lip, trying his best to ignore your compliment.

“What would my reaction be?”

“C-confusion?..”

“Right, that,” you confirmed. “So please be so kind as to explain what is happening and how I can be of help.”

“Alright…” He sighed heavily. “Follow me.”

You nodded, following his tall figure and enjoying how the fire of which his hair consisted was shimmering, however noticing one little but important detail.

There was no heart icon.

To be completely honest, you really were charming.

Idia was amazed at how easy it was to have a conversation with you and how charmingly your lips curved into a soft smile. He hated every second of the new day, realizing that the research is being delayed, and he has to run an infinite number of tests.

He could not clearly distinguish between your natural coquetry and acting (of the justice of which he was no longer so sure). You yourself were a very gentle and understanding person, calmly accepting the peculiarities of his personality, but still, despite all the promises that you made to others in their routes (at least those that he managed to hear), you seemed to still hold back myself.

Wouldn't you like to return to where you came from as soon as possible? Why did your face tremble in unbearable sadness every time he happily announced that there were not many tests left and that you would be released soon? Of course, you had to charm him, grab him right by the heart and make him yours, but why did your voice become so desperately dreary every time he closed the door to your room, and you wished him peaceful dreams and asked him not to work late?

The tests, in fact, at first were simple questionnaires, from which it was impossible to extract anything intelligible. Therefore, subsequently, Idia had to move on to more difficult tests for you, which turned out to be simulations of reality.

The distorted images of all those whose routes you have already completed, have told you terrible things, betrayed you and hoped to break you. Usually it was possible to check the accumulation of blot and magical energy this way, but since you did not possess it, it was checked how negative emotions affected you.

And you... seemed to remain unshakable and believed them to the end, forcing the images of people dear to you to be erased automatically.

Idia wasn't really interested in your involvement in the blot in the first place—it was just a cover. He was personally interested in knowing your essence in more detail, who, or maybe what you really were.

And why did you cling so desperately to those whose routes were already completed.

“Yuu!!”

“Don’t come any closer!”

You heard Grim burst into your room, ignoring his attempts to stop you, but the erratic system bugs were doing their own dance, preventing Grim from getting close to you.

“The fuck you’re doing?!”

You chuckled, tapping on the keyboard, and turned to him for a mere second.

“Trying to let our dear beloved system know that I won’t finish Idia’s route.”

“Yuu, get yourself together!! Ain’t no way you can just casually crack the system we’ve been workin’ with for who knows how many years so far!!”

“AND DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE?!”

“Yuu!”

You tried to make changes to the system code of this world, sweat streamed down your neck, electricity flashed bright flashes here and there, almost setting Grim's tail on fire, and as soon as you got to the very core, swallowing tears and ignoring Grim's screams, in the system something exploded, pushing you away from the interface and spawning digital corruption.

“Yuu!..”

You. Failed.

Today Idia planned to show you the Underworld to see what would happen. Apparently you had a save option, so he was about to make a hint for you, so you would save the game progress and reload in case something happens.

“I-It’s me, Idia…”

He knocked on the door, but no answer was heard. Normally you would reply with a cheerful ‘Come in!', but today you remained silent, making him slightly worried.

He opened the door nevertheless and found you, wrapped in blankets and sniffing.

“Yuu-shi?” He asked, coming closer to you but not too close, and saw you slowly turning to him. “O-oi, are you okay?”

“Ugh… who…”

You looked at him from under your brows, your eyelids were as if poured with lead, and your cheeks burned like a red-hot swing. Idia carefully bent over you, not daring to stretch out his hand for a long time, but your hoarse breathing forced him to press his hand to your forehead and gasp.

“You’re burning, Yuu-shi!”

“Idia?..”

“Y-yes, are you okay— Huh?!”

You weakly tugged at his sleeve, but from the unstable position and the effect of surprise, he fell on you.

This is the most classic otome scene ever, damn it!!

But, unlike the typical plot of an otome game, the scene wasn't particularly romantic. The promised butterflies didn’t hover in his stomach, and you looked really sick. You covered your mouth with a blanket and opened your eyes, trying to peer into the gold of the eyes in front of you with a cloudy gaze, forcing Idia to fluster.

“Your hair…” You muttered. “Warm.”

“O-of course it’s warm… Yuu-shi?!”

You smoothed a strand of his fiery hair and smiled weakly, clinging to the desired warmth and not noticing how the tips of his hair turned pink.

Shit, it was, like, REALLY bad. Did you just have to be so cute and vulnerable right when he wanted to ignore the feelings blossoming in his chest?! Argh, you really!!

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, taking his hand he offered to hold onto, not even realizing it himself, and tried standing up. “We’ve got important work to do today… Let’s go.”

“But you don’t look well, Yuu-shi…”

“It’s nothing,” you smiled, standing up and releasing his hand, already missing the warmth. “I know it's partly your idea, but you're still following someone's orders, right?”

“Uh,” he averted his gaze. “W-well, yes…”

“He-he,” you smiled, embracing yourself and feeling a little cold. “I know the feeling when no one asks you what you want to do. So let’s finish early, and I won’t disturb you anymore.”

You left the room, turning around for a second and meeting his stunned gaze.

You really DID care about him.

He chuckled at the last thing you’ve said, knowing that you needed him to escape this place, both STYX and Twisted Wonderland, but found it funny how you tried to cover it. Even if you didn’t look like you were lying in the first place.

The path to the underworld was unbearably long, and your body apparently refused to listen to you, the limbs seemed to take on a life of their own, and Idia saw a sharp flicker of the system windows around you, intensifying as you descended lower and lower.

“What do I need to do when we get there?” You asked, grabbing his hand, because you couldn’t even walk properly.

“Yuu-shi… E-excuse me.”

He put your hand on his shoulder, helping you move around, although you didn't walk long enough because you weren't very comfortable.

“I appreciate your concern,” you giggled and just took his hand in yours, interweaving fingers. “But that would be enough. Thank you, Idia.”

He felt stupid, feeling the unbearable heat of your body, and at the same time knowing that he contributed to your sudden illness, and he could not do anything about it.

He was an egoist to whom you showed nothing but kindness and understanding.

“Yuu-shi, uhm… Excuse me for a moment.”

System windows flickered and flew around you in a chaotic order, among which Idia somehow managed to grab the right one, and stood behind you, trying to hit the flickering button in time. He leaned closer to you, curls of his hair falling on your chest, and you blushed, turning your face to him.

“Idia?..”

“Argh, I’m s-sorry!! Please bear with me a little more…”

“Why bearing?” You leaned closer to him, feeling his heart stopping for a moment. “I enjoy spending time with you, really.”

“D-don’t say nonsense, Yuu-shi. Why would you love spending time with the one w-who, uhm, kidnapped you?”

“I might have questioned that, but… Maybe because your research can help me too. I think. And also…”

You looked at him, his hand frozen midair and his lips slightly parted.

Were you about to kiss him?

His heart skipped a beat when he realized that… No, it was SO irrational!! He was avoiding you (not really, actually) like a plague, he tried his best to not catch feelings for you! It would be a total game over if you would kiss him now, the system will admit he has fallen in love, and you will just leave, but!..

But you shook your head, smiling at him bitterly, and continued walking.

And what was the sudden sadness and void in his heart?

He managed to save the game for you and wondered if it was okay, given he was the one who did it, not you.

You finally reached the destination, and Idia felt a headache piercing his head, other people’s profiles popping up here and there randomly, and you frowned.

“Idia, wait,” you said, reaching out for one of the tabs and typing something there. “Shit, I have no currency left…”

“I can help.”

He still held your hand to prevent you from falling, seeing how hard you were shivering, and couldn’t dare to meet your shocked gaze.

“How in the world…”

“I don’t know either,” he mumbled. “It just… I know n-not only you’re not from this world, I know your purpose…”

“Did you avoid me on purpose because you knew?..”

“Y-yes,” he admitted and turned away. “But it’s not like you’ll love me for real.”

“You… Listen to me, Idia.”

You turned to him, ignoring the persistently jumping system windows and the gradually dissolving universe. The howl of phantoms from under your feet was terrifying and disturbing, but you clung to Idia, looking at him with tears in your eyes.

“This is undoubtedly the most freakingly insane route I’m trying to finish,” you confirmed. “But… Do I look like I want this to end? Like I want you to suffer when I’m gone?”

“Y-Yuu-shi…”

“I don’t want to go,” you admitted. “I don’t want to leave you! Not when I’m… developing feelings for you.”

“You…”

“The route is over once not only the person, but I also recognize and accept something for myself. And just so you know, you have no heart above you…”

“Yuu-shi, sorry for saying stupid things, but…” He inhaled sharply. “My heart is not above my head, but in my chest. Yours too.”

You giggled.

“Ha-ha… It is quite endearing, I must s… say.”

“Yuu-shi?”

“I’m okay,” you said. “It’s just… What are those howls?”

“... It’s phantoms. The ones my family and I study,” he answered. “They’re… not people anymore.”

“Not… anymore. Idia!!”

“W-what?!”

You sank to your knees, touching the cold surface of the gates to the underworld, and gasped, paralyzed.

It was just the same when you yourself first died.

“Yuu-shi, don’t come any closer!!”

“Idia,” you turned to him. “Do you… work here often? Do you interact with those phantoms often?”

“I do,” he answered. “Why?..”

“Ha-ha… I think… I just realized the real reason why you can see the system too.”

“WHAT?!”

“You know… I once was a normal person, just like you are. A part of a story, though I don’t even remember the genre it had. More likely a slice of life? I died young, rescuing a kitten. You can already assume that it was Grim… And you’re right. And somehow we both ended up being recruited for the Isekai Association program.”

“So not… everyone could enter?”

“As he explained, only those who possess certain qualities and personality traits can be hired. And as for you, I think because you’re close to death, you manage to see everything happening..”

“He?..”

You frowned.

“Is there a way to open the gates?”

“Don’t even think about it. I’m being serious, Yuu-shi.”

“So there is, and apparently you know it,” you smiled at him with a craziness he despised.

How could you even think about something so dangerous as…

“Well then, open it. Right. Now. I’m being serious just as you are.”

“I won’t.”

“I will put it to an end. You also don’t want your world to suffer because of me, right?! You see those glitches, the system almost absorbed everything!! How could you—”

“How could you just think only of yourself!”

You bit your lip, looking straight at him, his hair iridescent from blue to enraged orange, almost crimson.

“Listen, I’m being only logical!! Here, I hear death itself. Are you worried about me? I really appreciate it, but oh please, I won’t die that easily. In fact, all that I need to do is to jump right there as many times as I can, maybe that he will finally bring me to the office and at least interrogate…”

“He again.. No, Yuu, I WON’T let you.”

“Ha,” you laughed bitterly, drawing him to yourself and pressing your forehead to his, closing your eyes and summoning the system tabs.

Your forehead burned with heat, your breath hitched so hard that Idia himself heard it trembling, and watched in a daze as his memory was converted into system windows. He wanted to break out of your strong grip, but you already found the right scoreboard and smiled sadly, biting your lip.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, closing your eyes. “I didn’t want to manipulate you like that… Now, say it, Idia Shroud.”

His body moved against his will, his lips trembled, and as if not in his voice, a desperate ‘Gate to The Underworld’ broke from them.

The heavy massive gates opened, and Idia, having regained control over his movements, numbly turned away from you, but did not calculate that one inaccurate movement, and he felt the cold of the grave with his back.

“IDIA!!”

Dark hands, greedily clinging to his limbs, mercilessly pulled him into the abyss. Without hesitation, you rushed after him, your heart was pounding wildly in your chest, trying to escape, and the tears instantly dried up on your cheeks from the cold, leaving icy paths on them.

“Yuu!!”

Grim voice was heard, and the second after you felt him grabbing on your sleeve.

“Grim, no, get out of here, I’ll end this alone!!”

“You stupid little shit,” Grim cursed. “We’re partners!!”

“But Grim! Let me go! I must rescue him!!!”

“Ain’t no way you’re excluding me, you idiot! What are you going to do anyway?! He’s dying!”

You refused to let go of Idia’s hand you managed to grab, and saw him opening his eye for a mere moment before closing it, losing consciousness.

“Do you believe me, Grim?”

“Of course I do, you foolish henchman!”

“Then let me go, okay? Believe me, I’m not letting die nor you or Idia.”

Grim hesitated for a moment before nodding to you.

“‘Kay… And Yuu.”

“Yes?”

“Be careful just in case, ok? I mean, you’ll always be my most loyal henchman in every dimension existing, but now you look more ergh, soft or something? I mean, humans before you usually couldn’t stand a second in horrors and… Shit.”

“You don’t want to lose me,” you concluded, drawing Grim closer to you and enveloping him in a hug.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” he sighed. “Might get used to that soft side of yours.”

“Is it bad?”

“Nah,” he hugged your arm in response. “But it could have been better if you gave me more tuna cans daily.”

“Shut up.”

He let go of you, and you summoned the system tab, not really seeing anything in this mess, but bit your lip and typed the code, clicking ‘ENTER’ and shouting out.

“Judge Flamm!!”

Suddenly, the whole space seemed to flow into an absolutely intangible shell, the digital pieces of the universe peeled off, and you found yourself in a familiar office, which was a small room with a cozy fireplace against the wall.

“Yuu.”

An insanely beautiful person with dim green eyes looked at you with a strictness you never knew he could possess before, and offered you a cup of tea, which you declined.

“I thought I made it clear you’re not allowed to use that code.”

“It was an emergency, Judge Flamm.”

“I don’t see anything urgent.”

“Ha!” You stood up, spilling the tea and ignoring Flamm’s intense gaze fixed on you. “First transferring me and Grim to an otome game, then letting my last love interest die! Nothing urgent, really?”

You grabbed him by the collar, pulling him towards you, meeting the inexplicable emotion in his eyes, and grinned.

“You… Judge Flamm, before I actually blew the hell out of here, bring him back to life!!”

“Yuu, you’re saying nonsensical things.”

“Hell with you then…”

“You know there’s always a price to pay for all of your desires.”

“Want to see a hellfire so much?” You smirked. “I’ll show you that. You… Did I ever ask for life like that?! Wandering around like a ghost!”

“But you didn’t die. You did it only once, and now…”

“WHY? WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!”

“BECAUSE I—” He closed his eyes. “Forget it. I can’t let you work in this state. This world is broken anyway.”

“Ha, so you first bring me there against my will, not introducing me to the details, then I start developing emotions and feelings I never knew I needed, and now? Now you’re telling me I can’t keep working like that? Don’t try to fool me, Judge Flamm! Just name your price.”

“That merman surely taught you— Ha-ha. Great then. Hear the price.”

He grabbed your chin, drawing your face closer to his, and smirked.

“Your own life. And not just one, but all the lives you have. All the countless lives for all of the stories you needed to fix, and you;ll be stuck in that Twisted Wonderland world forever!!”

You narrowed your eyes and burst into laughter.

“Great! Take it all. I don’t care.”

“Yuu…”

“Take it,” you repeated. “Take it, Judge… No. Take it, Rollo.”

He hissed, escaping from your grasp and approaching the fireplace, pulling out a blue flower burning in the fire.

“You’ll regret your decision.”

“Oh believe me I won’t,” you said. “I will enjoy my one and only life I will have from now on. Finally.”

Rollo, casting a heavy and ambiguous look at you, breathed life into a flower burning with a blue flame, and put it in your hand, looking away and biting his lip. A spectacle that you never expected to see even in your wildest dreams unfolded in front of you, and Flamm, forcing out a weak awkward smile, pushed you into the digital abyss, whispering something in parting, but you could not make out what exactly.

“See you later, Yuu.”

He said, clutching a burning scarlet flower in his hand and falling after you.

“Yuu!!”

“Y-Yuu-shi!!”

You slowly opened your eyes, coughing up gunpowder from your throat, and looked at the two silhouettes looming over you with a hazy look. But you didn’t have time to orient yourself and come to your senses, when suddenly they swooped down on you with hugs and squeezed them tightly.

“You insane punk!!” Grim cried. “I’ll never ask for extra tuna cans if you’re going to throw yourself into the abyss once more! You stupid little—”

“G-grim-shi, let Yuu-shi rest a little and—”

“Idia… You’re alive…”

“T-thanks to you and—”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you leaned towards Idia and clung to him in a soft kiss, ignoring Grim's dissatisfied sighs from the side and the uncertain sounds that Idia made. Laughing through kiss, you clung to Idia even stronger, and he, not sharing your fun, grew bolder, picking up your lips.

“Y-Yuu-shi,” he whispered when parted. “What did you do?..”

“Uhm,” you giggled nervously. “Exchanged my countless lives on your but only one?”

“YOU WHAT?!”

“Ah, Grim!!” You lamented. “I forgot to ask for your opinion… But I kinda think… Judge Flamm let us live only this one remaining life…”

“Do I look like I care?!” He punched you slightly. “I’m more impressed that you’ve managed to convince HIM out of all bosses! He’s an insane one!”

“Why do I think there's so much to be told?” Idia mumbled.

“Don’t worry,” you smiled. “Let’s get back to NRC and I’ll explain everything to you and then to others. They certainly deserve an explanation…”

“But explain everything to me first in all details,” he said, standing up and helping you out. “I’m your t-true route, after all.”

You smiled at him, taking his hand in yours and letting Grim rest on your shoulders.

“You are!”

A sudden piercing feeling pricked your chest, as if crimson fire spreading within, but it soon disappeared, erasing all your worries.

Maybe you were an otome expert all this time, after all?

— tag-list : @coffee-or-hot-cocoa @red-viewe @68thsposts @cerisescherries

#twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #jade x reader #leona x reader #kalim x reader #azul x reader #lilia x reader #idia x reader

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