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kissingghouls · 8 months

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The Date (Mary Goore x Reader)

Summary: You and Mary are still trying to figure things out, but you've agreed to a first date. (This is a follow up to Winter Chill because frankly we all need to kiss Mary more often. 💕)

tags: kissing, somewhat sexual situations, feral cats, and soft soft he/they Mary Goore.

A guitar solo wails from a nearly busted speaker as you lean against the dive bar’s tricky door. The air is stale and the floor is sticky, but Mary lights up when they spot you ducking past the entryway and into the dingy room. It’s obvious to anyone who might be watching through the smokey haze, but it’s a look meant for you alone. That half-smile, half-smirk is a signature look that really only works on Mary’s lips. It makes you feel too warm, too tingly as you drag your body toward the empty seat in front of them.

You don’t miss that it’s the only “nice” barstool in the place, the only one in the entire establishment without gouges or missing stuffing and exactly zero crudely drawn dicks etched in permanent marker. Mary must have guarded the thing their entire shift as it was a treasured piece in the bar—a mighty throne for all the “tattooed freaks” and “weirdos” that made up your social circles. You wouldn’t be surprised if the regulars had been threatened with certain death or worse—room temperature beers.

“The fuck you looking at, Goore?” you hurl at him as you climb onto the seat.

“You, darlin’,” he answers with a grin and a wink.

Before, you would have rolled your eyes and walked away. You probably wouldn’t have been here on a Monday night in the first place. But things were different now and a warm pink blush flares across your face at their words. It’s funny that it’s all still new, how all the butterflies and funny feelings still show up even though you’ve known Mary for years. But you’d never known this side of them, this genuinely sweet and ridiculously smooth side that they reserved for whoever currently held their affections.

Whatever this was—this thing happening between you and Goore—you were happy to let itself play out rather than giving it a name and getting attached too early.

“You don’t stand a fuckin’ chance, Goore,” Mary’s boss hollers with a laugh and tosses a couple of pity bills into the tip jar.

“I dunno,” Mary sings with a shrug. “I’ve got a certain charm, eh darlin’?”

“I guess you’re alright,” you reply.

Mary plays it cool, but you can see the way their eyes light up like they’d just won a million dollars. “See Pat? I’m alright.”

“They pay you to say that?” Pat huffs with a laugh.

“You could have a little faith in me, man.”

“Nah,” Pat replies in a gruff tone. He stands and pulls his leather jacket over his shoulders. “You treat this one right, Goore,” he instructs with a friendly pat on your shoulder. “There’s a lot of ways to make someone disappear.”

“Jesus, Pat,” Mary laughs. “What makes you think I won’t mind my manners?”

“I’ve met you. But this one? This one’s a good kid.”

“How could you accuse me of such a thing Pat?” you ask in mock horror.

“My mistake, kiddo. Try to leave Mary in one piece, yeah?”

“I make no promises,” you call out as Pat walks away.

Mary leans forward, elbows resting on the bar as he asks in a low voice, “you gonna take me apart, darlin’?”

“Shut the fuck up, Goore,” you groan, shaking your head. “Are you ready to go or did I drive all the way up here for nothing?”

They grin and grab the tip jar. “Lemme get my jacket.”

Minutes later Mary rounds the bar shouting goodbyes at the regulars and their coworkers as you juggle your keys in your hand. You do everything you can to will away the nerves clawing at your stomach, but nothing quite works until the two of you are outside and Mary reaches for your hand. They stop and pull you closer, bottom lip chewed nervously between their teeth.

“Thanks for this.”

“For picking you up from work?” you ask with a laugh.

Mary rolls his eyes and groans, tugging you closer. “For the whole thing, I mean. The date,” they reply with a nervous tinge.

“Is that what this is?” you tease, knowing exactly what the two of you had agreed on when they’d proposed the idea.

“You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?”

“Isn’t that why you like me?”

“Of course, it is darlin’.”

You reach up and press a soft kiss to his lips. He tastes like mint gum instead of smoke and you can’t help but grin at the thought of Mary Goore nervously chewing through an entire pack in the hopes that they might get to kiss you again. You can’t help grabbing fistfuls of their jacket to pull them even closer as you dare to deepen the kiss. Mary’s hands go straight to your hips as your heart begins to race.

“You’re fucking dangerous, darlin’,” they whisper against your mouth, eyes closed and forehead pressed to yours to savor the moment.

“Maybe. You like it though.”

They nod. “Very much. More than you know. But as much as I enjoy making out with you in the street, I do have a nicer evening planned.”

“You’re really serious about this date thing, huh?”

“As a heart attack, sweetheart. Gonna romance the hell out of you.”

“Bring it on, Goore.”

Mary laughs in response, fully accepting your challenge by running past you and doing a little bow as they open the drivers side door for you. They tilt their head as they wait for your witty retort, but you’re too stunned to do anything but stumble over a “thank you” as you slide into your seat.

It’s a short drive to Mary’s place, but time seems to slow to a crawl when he’s sitting next to you. You can feel the cold still clinging to his jacket as he directs you toward a spot on the street that’s normally occupied by his roommate’s van. He assures you it’s more than ok steal the space, giving you another one of those Mary Goore grins that used to mean trouble, but now they’re starting to make your heart stutter in your chest. As you throw the car into park, Mary’s face is haloed by the streetlight buzzing above and all you can think about is how badly you want to kiss them again.

“Stay there,” he says quickly and jumps out of the car, sprinting to reach your door before you realize what he’s doing.

“You’re out of your mind, Mary,” you laugh, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the entire thing.

“Hey, I told you I was going to romance you, darlin’.” They hold out a hand and help you out of the car as you take it. Their fingers are soft, lingering just a touch longer than expected as they run a thumb over your knuckles. “This is just the first step.”

“Should I be worried?”

He scrunches up his face, pretending to think. “Yeah, probably. Come on, darlin’,” he says as he urges you toward the sidewalk. “It’s cold as shit out here.”

You follow Mary up a winding set of narrow stairs and lean against the wall as they fight with their front door. The winter weather’s made the locks harder to turn and you can see the satisfaction on Mary’s face as the door finally swings open.

“After you,” they say with a broad sweep of their arm. You’re still shaking your head as they follow you in and realize the apartment is freezing. “Fucking piss,” Mary shouts in frustration and rushes to fumble with the thermostat. “I’m gonna kill him.”

They wait a bit for the tell-tale click of the heat kicking on and the distinct smell of radiators warming up fills the apartment. You watch them move through the space for a moment, realizing you’d been here before. Some distant memory filters in and the room is full of half-naked people and those plastic party cups while music blares at an unholy volume. You can’t remember what the party was for—a birthday or valentine’s day or something equally unimportant—but your heart feels like someone’s gripped it in their fist as a perfect vision of Mary leaning against the wall wearing a bored expression and that same battle jacket appears clear as day in your mind.

A screeching sound pulls you back to the present and Mary’s rushing through the kitchen to the back door. You hear it again, not screeching, but desperate meowing just outside the door.

“Hang on, hang on, I’m coming guys,” Mary says with a laugh before turning back to you. “Sorry, they can always tell when I get home.”

As Mary carefully measures out cat food into two plastic baby food bowls, the meowing turns to howling cries as though the cats know it’s dinnertime. You smile as two small cats swarm Mary as soon as he steps onto the balcony. He sets down their food and grins back at you as he waves you over. “That’s Scratch and that one’s Sniff. They’re pretty sweet for being feral cats, just don’t try to pet Scratch.”

“I can’t believe that stupid rumor was true. Mary Goore feeds street cats.”

Mary shrugs. “Is it that hard to believe?”

“No. Honestly, it’s the one rumor I always hoped was true.”

“Hmm, so you’re saying you think about me when I’m not around?”

“That’s hilarious coming from the guy who’s had a crush on me ‘for-fucking-ever.’”

“Oh, because you never had a crush on me?”

“I never said that.”

Mary smiles and takes your hand. “C’mon darlin’. We have a date.”

Back inside the small kitchen, Mary becomes increasingly frustrated as they open and slam each cabinet shut. There’s a growl under their breath, throaty and deep like the noises they make on stage and their shoulder sag in defeat as they stare into the empty fridge.

“So…uh…” he starts and rests his forehead against the door of the freezer.

“What’s wrong?”

“I swear I had a plan. I was going to do all this nice shit for you—I was gonna make you dinner! But it…uh…it looks like my roommate ate all the food?”

“Were you…trying to impress me, Goore?”

“Yes,” he confesses quickly. “Trying real fuckin hard here, darlin’.”

“You know you don’t—”

“I don’t have to do any of this for you? Yeah, yeah, I know. It’s just…I wanted to?”

“Well, you still could right? There’s got to be something left in here,” you suggest and begin to search the cabinets. Tucked away in a back corner is a single box of mac and cheese in little cartoon shapes. “Ah! What about this?”

Mary laughs. “Probably about as good as it’s gonna get. This ok with you?”

You lean closer to them and whisper, “I kind of love that stuff.”

A soft smile creeps across their face before they steal a kiss and send you off to the living room. You settle on the sofa and pull your sleeves over your hands as you fold up to keep warm. The heat might be making noises, but it’s still cold as hell in Mary’s apartment. You know it’s the kind of thing they can’t help, but you keep your discomfort to yourself. You didn’t miss that hint of embarrassment under his makeup because things weren’t “perfect” when you’d arrived, but you weren’t sure how to tell him that none of that mattered to you. You just wanted to be here with him.

“Well, this is a fucking disaster,” Mary states with a self-deprecating laugh and drops next to you on the sofa. They swipe at their face, clearly still upset by the way the evening’s events continue to unfold. The metal of their rings clicks together as their fingers smudge their already fading makeup.

It’s almost cute the way Mary is aggravated by things not turning out as planned. Hell, it’s cute that Mary made plans, but you weren’t about to let them put you on a pedestal—lest you fall from it later.

“Mary?” you start softly.

“Hmm?”

You don’t really have anything to say to follow up, so you crawl across the sofa and straddle his thighs instead. You level your eyes with the pale green of his, watching as his pupils go wide at the sight of you in his lap. “It’s not a disaster,” you tell him, slightly impressed that you’ve earned his full attention. “It’s just a regular date.”

“Fucking hell, darlin’,” they groan.

“What?” you ask with a doe-eyed innocence that has Mary pulling their lip between their teeth.

“You’re something else, you know?” they whisper.

You shrug and lean in, closing what little gap was left between the two of you. “I can’t help it. There’s just…something about you.”

“About me?” he asks in disbelief.

“You gonna argue with me or are you gonna kiss me, Goore?”

“Hmm,” he hums, pretending to think once more. “Yeah, I’ll be honest I think I’m gonna kiss you. Like, a lot.”

“Yeah, I think that’s a good plan.”

“Probably one of my better ones, really,” he says softly, urging you closer with each word before his mouth claims yours. He smooths a hand over your back as the kiss grows more and more heated. He shifts beneath you, turning to pin you to the sofa as he hovers above you. The weight of his hips against yours is like a dream and you reach up to pull him closer. Tongues twist as hands tangle in each other’s hair, fingers gripping with hesitation to find the perfect pressure to make the other moan. While Mary’s kiss is aggressive, they keep their hips almost respectfully still until you give chase with your own, raising to meet the slow, tentative grind.

The sound they make—somewhere between a whine and a whimper—is so pretty you’re determined to hear it again, but it’s too hard to think with Mary’s teeth on your neck and their fingers trailing under your shirt. They’re leaving marks, but you know you will too as soon as you get the chance, so you tug hard at Mary’s hair and attack as they throw their head back. Their eyes shut tight as you nip at the skin below their ear and suck an angry red mark into their skin. They make that sound again and this time it’s almost desperate as their hardening length drags over your sex.

Before either of you can do anything about it, a horrific noise erupts above you. Mary falls from the sofa, knees banging against the hardwood floor as you sit up and try to catch your breath. There’s a haze of steam in the room and Mary scrambles toward the kitchen to wave anything they can in front of the screaming smoke alarm. When the wailing finally stops, they turn back to you sheepishly and burst into an uncontrollable laughter.

“Forgot—” they heave between giggles, “forgot—about—the food.” They finally catch their breath and wipe away an errant tear as they shake their head. “Darlin’ I might not be cut out for this fancy date stuff.”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that it’s fucking freezing in here?”

“Yeah, I think the heat is out. I might have been…trying to pretend it wasn’t.”

“Ah, well, do you have…I don’t know…blankets? Like…maybe on your bed?”

“Darlin’ are you trying to get into my bed?”

“Yeah, actually.”

Mary grins. “Ok, this might be the best date I’ve ever had.”

-x-

more stuff by me // ko-fi tip jar

#my writing #more Goore '24 #mary goore x reader #repugnant fanfiction #mary goore fanfic #mary goore fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #the band ghost fanfiction

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luckykiwiii101 · 3 months

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Kind of a late story lolll but I manifested getting an 8 on my IELTS test! During the test I was spacing out bc of my short ass attention span, and I actually messed up my writing, and English isn't even my first language lol. I went home tired and was like yeah imma fuck this up but then I decided UM ACTUALLY ☝️ no. I won't be messing it up. I do everything effortlessly! I kept on assuring myself and affirming like "chill. Imma get a 7 or 7.5 since it's my lucky number"

However, midway I'm like hmm should I get an 8? I don't know. I did pretty badly on my test 👉👈🥺 I don't think I deserve an 8 BUT I PERSISTED ANYWAY ☝️☝️

Two weeks (13 days) later I got my test results back and it's a solid 8.00 I told my English teachers Abt it and they were all so proud of me, apparently in my entire school I scored the highest in IELTS test. Not even the kids in the higher grade scored an 8, they scored like 7 or 6.5 (according to my teachers)

I got an 8.5 in speaking, 8.5 in listening, 8.0 in reading, and 6.5 in writing (eh. Good enough)

I'm glad I persisted thru and it's all thanks to u and ur motivational posts mwaa

tl;dr you don't have to affirm. Just assure yourself in your 4D that you HAVE it. Or you already ARE. Aim for the HIGHEST (e.g I felt like seven would be enough given my shitty writing and listening but got an 8). YOURE NOT BEING GREEDY, YOU DESERVE IT. stop being lazy and PUSH IT. you deserve whatever it is that you want. AIM AS HIGH AS THE STARS!, you know the law, use it to your advantage! You want that dream body? U deserve it! 40 mill, a new house, whatever it is!

P.s I love you I love your entire blog I love your theme it's so unique I love it. I love the tough love you bring some people actually DON'T want to be babied and spoonfed we need the tough reality and the push! Love ya 🩷🩷 xoxo sending u 100 kisses! ^^

SPOTTED: @staroflesh taking your username seriously I see. Someone get me my sunglasses!! I think I’m going blind.

You really have proven yourself to be a star. And If you know me, stars are my favourite topic. sending x’s and o’s your way.

- gossip girl

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dontbesoweirdkira · 6 months

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Mafia Trilogy !Yandere¡

Ranked On Insanity

A/N: This is purely my opinion on them. We all interpret their characters differently so don’t come at me if you don’t like their placements. I’m trying to be kind of accurate to their characters but also do fan service…I’m stressed so plz 😪

Requests open: 24/7

Warnings: Yandere and toxic themes.

Masterlist

I’m ranking them in three different categories…

Delulu to not as delulu

Batshit and completely delusional

These are the men who are at the point of no return….They are willing to do anything to get you at any cost. I do not say this lightly like I mean they are willing to do anything

My boy John has the entire c.i.a. at his very disposal and you think he won’t use it to find you??? He’s going to get you. Sam will too,, He’ll send out multiple men to come hunt you down if you even dare to hide from him. They do not give a flying duck if you don’t even have romantic interest in them, you are their darling. That’s the end of discussion.

Whatever they want you to do, you’re going to do it. There’s no rationalization with these two. Lincoln and Tom give them all the talks they want but they will not listen. Pushed to the brink enough and their friends are not safe either from their delusional thinking.

You already saw what Sam did to Paulie…imagine what he’d do for his darling. Not the ideal men for normal girls. You will be tormented every single step of your relationship with either one of these men.

No effort is made to hide their sinister behaviors and your eyes will bear witness to their horrific atrocities. If you push them too far they might even harm you eventually. There is no escaping or telling what their insanity will make them do.)

Sam Trapani

John Donovan

Pretty fucking crazy but is in a weird gray area between the other two

They are in the middle. Paulie is already an irrational brute and Vito is a traumatized Soldier, so they are definitely operating weirdly.

They both have similar desires of wanting a partner but have been dealt an unlucky hand when it comes to dating so when you came along…they couldn’t let you go. Their obsession comes from a place of codependency..they need you sooo badly and they cannot go back to their old cold life without you.

They really do care about their darling, truly. They’ll do whatever they can to organically win over your love and trust. Sure they will be super touchy, maybe a little too bossy or over protective of you but they mean well… they truly want to be the “chill bf” but who are they kidding??? They are cray cray in the membrane.

At any moment they can and will snap…their delusions will get the best of them if pushed to that point. If they feel like you’re going to leave or are constantly rejecting them, they will do a full 180 and turn into the previous bunch. They are extremely accusatory and feel like you’re constantly trying to cheat or leave them. Tons of arguments and unsavory punishments.

I can’t say they’d do exactly all the same things as the previous much like they’d never physically hurt you or make you watch their crimes but they are damn near close to being like them…

Paulie Lombardo

Vito Scaletta

Average Mafia Member

These men are still very much Yandere and are willing to kill and fuck shit up for you but aren’t as delusional as the rest. Like on average people terms they are very yandere but in comparison to other members of the mob…eh.

I know this is going to piss hella people off but I can’t imagine any of these three holding you against your will or being overly passionate about their darling.

Your safety comes first and they are more go with the flow kind of men. Especially Lincoln and Tommy, despite their desires, your wishes come first. Joe is just Joe, he cares a lot about you but on average he’s like fuck it…it’s your life girl-. Forced intimacy and everything isn’t their thing.

If you really weren’t romantically feeling them they’d just become platonic yanderes and make sure you’re safe from a distance. If any moment you changed your mind they’d be right there waiting to give you the world but if not they really won’t do too much about it. These men would have to have been romantically invested in you for years for them to snap and become like the rest .)

Tommy Angelo

Lincoln Clay

Joe Barbaro

#headcanon #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #mafia trilogy #yandere sam trapani #sam trapani x reader #john donovan #John Donovan x reader #paulie lombardo x reader #vito scaletta x reader #tommy angelo x reader #Lincoln clay x reader #yandere mafia #mafia 2 #mafia 3 #mafia definitive edition #mafia ii #mafia iii

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intheshadowsbehindyou · 1 year

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Hello! I love your writing style!! It's just so on spot, and I wanted to request some headcanons for the mercs with a gn! reader who doesn't really speak but they can communicate through sign language or paper for whatever reason, the thing is, the Merc and the reader find themselves in a really critical situation or just an incredibly intimate and comforting moment, blurting out for the first time something serious or stupid like "y'know when I first met you I thought you're really stupid...(affectionate)" IDK OF THIS MAKES SENSE OR IT'S WEIRD SORRY LMAOOA

(if you don't wanna do all of them you could do your faves & I hope there's a chance to add miss Pauling if possible😔) but anyway, too much to read,, sorry again!! Take care♡♡

Y/N with communication anxiety admits their feelings to the Mercs

Scout:

- He’s very chill and nonchalant about it. Although have fun hearing him talk his mouth off all the time and rant about random things. He takes a liking to you pretty quickly when you join his team and leans on the wall next to you tossing his ball from hand to hand and blowing bubbles with his bubblegum. “Heeey there slugger. What‘s your name? You look like a total nightmare today.” He says. When you don’t answer him and nervously gesture to your throat that you’d prefer staying quiet he pauses for a moment. “Not a talker, eh?”

- Literally will not shut the fuck up. Will talk to you for hours on end. Venting or just saying plain stupid shit to impress you. You find his personality rather charming and in exchange he seems to appreciate your content silence and preference to listen to him. Something that the other Mercs don’t really do.

- “Y’know, Y/N. I know this sounds fuckin’ weird but like— Thank you I guess? For listening to my nonstop ramblin. I mean.. Not many people stop to consider what I have to say.” He says this to you while you sit in Tuefort’s gazebo with him on a cold desert morning. “They just think i’m annoying I guess..”

- “Annoying yet charming and handsome nonetheless, Scout.” You finally work up the courage to mutter to him. Your voice is rasp and you smile.

- Scout pauses, then looks at you in complete disbelief. Did Y/N just speak? Atop of that it seemed to have been a flirtatious compliment. He takes a moment to process the situation and then sort of chortles. He runs his hand through his own hair and acts chill about it but on the inside he’s absolutely mad with feelings. “Wow.. That’s.. Yeah, OK.” he says, failing to find words. Face flushed with heat.

——————————————————————

Soldier:

- He was the first person to approach you in the base. Like ever. When he found out there was a new mercenary he needed to lay the ground rules to them as soon as possible. Instead of giving him a “Yes sir!” like he had hoped, you stared at him blankly. (I’d probably be rethinking this job offer.) Wondering why you hadn’t spoken up to him, he got close to your face and looked up and down you. “I’D LIKE TO HEAR A YES SIR PRIVATE!” Still nothing. You were too busy admiring his muscles. You’ve just met this man but you’d let him throw you off a bridge in an instant.

- When he still doesn’t get a response, he backs up and angrily fixes his helmet “Insubordination I see.. Heh. Okay.” He mutters and prepares to plan a punishment later. You are oddly charmed by his stupid greeting and you head to the nearest chalkboard and explain in writing why you can’t respond back. He lifts his helmet up to read it and then looks back at you. (The other Mercs are kind of stunned that Soldier even knows how to read in the first place.)

- “Ah, I see.. Strange tactical decision but not unheard of.” He responds, then straightens his posture apologetically. You two become close friends from then on. Medic has to explain to him later that you just have “mild” communication issues. For the first few months of your guys’ friendship the dumbass thought you were doing this to gain an upper hand.

- After a match one day you catch him smoking a cigar on a huge pile of bodies in the pouring rain. You step up the horrific mess of blood and guts to meet him. He doesn’t look too happy. Although Soldier never really opens up about anything to anyone. He’s way too deep in his little military fantasy. You sit next to him and put a hand on his shoulder reassuringly. Whatever the hell he was upset about you knew it wasn’t good. After a bout of silence you whisper “You’re a wonderful strategist, Soldier.”

- You can’t see his expression underneath his helmet but you can certainly hear his heartbeat quicken because of how close you are. His mouth nearly twitches up into a grin. He doesn’t respond to your compliment but he’s relieved to hear one nonetheless after all this time.

————————————————————————-

Demoman:

- You find him making bombs in his quarters when you meet him for the first time. He doesn’t look too friendly but as you decide to walk by he immediately calls out to you. “Ayeee! New blood. Get ova’ here a second. Wee lil monster.” He beckons his hand aggressively.

- You walk over to him and he puts an arm around your shoulder. Patting you reassuringly. “Aye.. So It’s not gonna be easy livin’ here just so you know. We’re all a wee bit mad. Don’t take the others’ too seriously when dey bother ye.” He takes the responsibility upon himself to let you know as an older Merc it’ll be okay. He slaps you friendlily on the back after his conversation and sends you off. He doesn’t really question the fact you aren’t speaking.

- You immediately take a liking to him though. Mainly due to his explosive personality on the battlefield (pun intended.) He gets horribly drunk before doing any Mercenary work and acts goofy the entire time. His charisma pulls you in like a magnet. You want to speak to him but it’s so hard…

- After months of simping for this guy from afar, you slip a note under his doorframe professing your feelings to him. You hear him pick it up. The next thing you know, he barges into your quarters the next day after a match and grabs you by the shoulders. Asking you in complete disbelief if you actually meant everything you said.

- “Yes, I just think you’re really attractive!” you blurt out instinctively. Alarmed by his behavior. He lets you go; having heard your voice for the first time. The shock of the revelation and the sound of your voice, atop of the alcohol seemed to have done it for him. He immediately kissed you on the lips without warning. You’re the first person in years to say this to him.

- “I… Er.. “ He walks away after that. You have no fucking idea what the hell even happened.

——————————————————————-

Engineer:

- You hear the sweet melody of a guitar echoing off the intel room. Despite its clearly southern origins you are drawn to it. As if it was some sort of hypnosis. You’d recognize that melody anywhere. The year was 1967 and you were no stranger to your own childhood. That was clearly “El Paso.” You’ve heard that song on the radio a million times already. But somehow this was different. The soothing voice it came from was singing it as if it were his own lullaby to the multiple sentries around him. The ones of his own creation of course.

- Next thing you know, you’re sitting next to him on the intel desk, sleepy as all shit from the melody and the white noise from the patrolling sentries. You wake up an hour later to embarrassingly finding yourself on this stranger’s lap. You want to profusely apologize to your colleague but nothing comes out.

- He doesn’t even seem phased. For some reason he was stroking your hair as he gazed off into the distance.

- Ever since that day you became close to Engineer. He was completely unbothered by your communication issues and actually kind of appreciates the silent times he has with you. He rarely speaks to you while hanging out either, out of respect for your boundaries. Only the occasional conversation here and there. You are both existing together.

- “I love you, Dell.” You finally say, after a night of drinking in his workshop with him. You are perched up on his lap as always and he’s petting you. At first he misunderstands this as platonic. “Aww..” He cooes. “No, I mean it. I’ve always found you so —“ You bury your face into his chest. Muffling the last part of your sentence “Safe to be around.”

- He’s unbelievably boiling with hormones on the inside. He tips his hardhat forward to hide his flustered face. Holding his own chin. “Dammit..” He mutters in an incredibly positive way. You’ve successfully won this man over.

—————————————————————-

Heavy:

- He’s already met you before the job. Accidentally caught you in a coffee shop in Tuefort being yelled at by an ableist Karen and he took it upon himself to nearly strangle her for you. Heavy doesn’t tolerate behavior like that. You need to insult people with style or nothing at all. Don’t pick on their disabilities. Aim for the most stereotypical high school bully route possible. Come on, you gotta be an asshole skillfully.

- He could tell you were different the moment you joined the team. But that’s fine. He was quite misunderstood too. Heavy wasn’t a dumb himbo. He was a GIANT man with a lust for blood. Although he enjoyed chaos as much as any Merc, Heavy also valued silence. Something that you provided him with your presence. You catch him deliberately body shielding you on the battlefield because he knows this communication issue didn’t come out of nowhere. You’re distressed. This was his subtle attempt to let you know he cared.

- He catches you unable to sleep one night. He opens your door and notes the fact your light was still visible through the cracks. You’re sitting on the bed in an uncomfortable fetal position.

- “Little thing will not sleep?” He asks you. Although he has his typical hardened expression the question suggested he cared. “Hm. Stay here. Heavy will grab bedtime story.”

- He reads you an old Russian classic. Although depending on who you are you might not understand it. Regardless the soft sounds are alluring sleep. It’s clear he’s read people stories many times before because his whispers hit all the right places.

- You mumble to him a thank you. Which makes him pause mid sentence. He doesn’t know how the ever living fuck to process what he’s feeling right now. It’s a mixture of affection and the pang of what is typically the start of romantic attraction. Ew gross he’s feeling soft and fuzzy emotions.

- You pull him under the covers with you eagerly. He grumpily obeys but he doesn’t know why. He nearly destroys your bed with his weight and has to put you on his chest to cuddle. You can hear the sound of the ubercharged baboon heart inside him. Still pumping away and working to keep him going. You slip into slumber easily.

————————————————————————

Pyro:

- Talking is overrated anyway. Nobody really understands Pyro when they speak under the mask. Trying to say something simple like “There’s a spy behind you.” is often met with a confused expression. When Pyro meets you, it’s when he’s allured by your skills on the battlefield. In their point of view you are a glorious unicorn prancing around a field of pollen. (More like debris from the enemy soldiers’ rockets but that’s besides the point.)

- There are rare moments where Pyro is completely lucid and self aware of the fact they’re a mercenary for hire though. They compliment you on your abilities after a match and it takes you a while to understand but you nod.

- They won’t. stop. complimenting. you. You are dragged to his tea parties and childish shenanigans and you find over time it’s surprisingly pleasant to escape from the bloodshed once and a while. Cuddling sessions ensue as time goes on.

- You catch their face without their suit while they’re getting changed. That is vulnerability that Pyro wasn’t ready for yet. They break down sobbing and self depreciating and you feel heartbroken. Who the hell taught them to hate themselves so fucking much? You’re having a bit of empathy overload right now as they squeal and choke up. Finding no other alternative but to speak blissful things about their appearance and personality. Hearing you speak for the first time makes them cry more. (In an incredibly positive way luckily.)

———————————————————————

Sniper:

- Oh shit. Another person whose super quiet for some reason?! Except your situation is different. You’d like to socialize but it’s difficult. Sniper doesn’t want to socialize and he hates basically everybody. But he has that “grumpy older brother who teases you” energy. He’s well aware you’re younger than the other Mercs and therefore a tad easier on you.

- He’s scoping out a crack in the window when he feels your presence behind him. His shoulders stiffen and that’s how you know he senses you. “Blimey. You’d make a terrible Spy.” he mutters. Bringing his gun away from the hole to put it down and face you. His hypersensitivity to noise is no doubt from being stabbed a million times.

- You wonder how he’s able to tell it’s even you in the first place. He’s possibly grown accustomed to how each Mercenary sounds when they approach his nest. You can smell the scent of strong cologne mixed in with bond fire lingering off him. Couple that with the fact that he’s so unbelievably hot? You came to bring him some morning coffee but you end up setting it down to spontaneously hug him.

- “Wh— fuck.” He growls. Both caught off guard and swaying a bit. Trying to adjust to extra weight. He hesitantly hugs you back. Wondering if you were sick or something and needed soothing. He doesn’t understand why anybody would want this from him. It takes him a minute to put his arms around you and pat you.

- “What’s wrong mate?” he says, in your ear. This man might be giving you a voice kink if you don’t already have one. Holy shit. You don’t want to be humiliated by your own voice in front of him and your lips quiver. Incapable of finding the words you’re thinking of. “You’re cute.” you finally say. In a last ditch effort when no other words came to mind. To say you desperately wanted this man was an understatement.

- You hear him take a sharp breath in. He stifles a groan from the amount of energy you just shot into his godamn stomach. Not only was it a pleasure to hear your voice for the first time but it felt intimate. He was very sensitive to things like this. You swore you could hear this man purring in your ear like a cat. He was evidentially as touch starved as you were.

—————————————————————

Medic:

- No speaking?! Oh! this man has to study you like right fucking now. What a curiosity. He’s never met somebody who had issues speaking like this before. He hates to admit —and won’t admit for that matter — that he might be doing this out of emotion as well. Believe it or not Medic can be an incredibly emotion driven person. Not just for the pleasures of harming people but the unwanted sympathy that comes with being human. He hates the idea he might care for you. Why does he even feel that way? It’s not like you’re different from any other Merc..

- Except you are. You’re you. That’s the problem. You’re lovable in every way and no amount of rumination will ever explain why.

- His first instinct upon discovering this about you is to ask you questions about how bad it is. Obviously quickly realizing how stupid that is — he hands you his clipboard and a fresh piece of paper to communicate. “Do you speak if at all?” “Do you experience this in the presence of certain stressors?” “Did you have traumatic experiences that led to this?” “Is this perhaps a case of selective mutism?”

- You scramble to write down incredibly passive aggressive and sarcastic answers but they are answers nonetheless. He seems pleased with the results. Under normal circumstances you’d hate being treated like a guinea pig but his excited smile was charming. The fact that somebody wanted to understand your situation so badly was a bit riveting. He was hungry for information about the human existence. “Danke!”

- You catch something you’d never suspect in a mad scientist such as himself. While he’s drawing mathematical equations on his chalkboard one night he periodically looks over his shoulder to frown at you while he thinks you’re not paying attention.

- He’s doing a terrible job at hiding his human nature. There was a bout of emotion in his eyes about your health. As much as the doctor tried to remove this from his work, it kept rearing its ugly head in certain situations. “I love you, Doctor.” You tell him.

- SNAP. His fingers break the chalk in half. Just like his crumbling facade. You could see his eye twitch as he accesses ten thousand possible answers he could give you in his mind. “Aheh, could you give me a moment, bitte?” He tells you. Waltzing into the other room. You could hear muffled screaming coming from his bedroom. He regrets taking this job and wished he died in police custody.

———————————————————————-

Spy:

- YES! FINALLY SOMEONE WHO DOESN’T MAKE HIM WANT TO PULL HIS HAIR OUT AND BACKFLIP OFF A CLIFF

- Spy elegantly invites you to his quarters one night after weeks of avoiding you the first time you come here. He pours you some wine and hands you a glass. (adjusting your hand in the process because you’re holding the glass wrong.)

- “Do you know why I brought you here?” He asks. Pacing around the room and lighting himself a cigarette from his disguise kit. In all honesty you have no idea why but the sight of such a handsome older man doing this for you was distracting. “It is your performance as of late. You are throughly calculated I must say.” You couldn’t agree with this, but you wondered if he had some sort of thing for competent people. (Your assumptions are correct.)

- …. “Not to mention quieter than me when I scope out prey.” He mentions. Waving the cigarette between two fingers. He was a Spy and you had no doubt he was trying to read you like a book but having difficulties. He was especially accustomed to having small talk with the other Mercs to better fake their counterparts when disguised as them. You couldn’t help but feel a little flattered over the fact that not even a Spy could properly look through you.

- He looked at you rather frustratingly once he realizes you’re still not speaking. “Not even the slightest bit of speaking. Do you realize how much harder you make my job?” He complains sarcastically. You can’t help but crack a humored grin at this. He isn’t being ableist in this situation, rather he’s angry he can’t psychoanalyze somebody. You knew it was within’ a Spy’s nature to instinctively do this.

- He responded positively to your grin. Moving away and dragging his cigarette. Trying to hide a bit of his own amusement. “Yes, yes. You find my suffering to be equivalent to the entire circus.” He says. “But in in all honesty your silence is preferred.” Spy moves in and lifts your chin up with his pointer finger.

- “Tu es agréable à côtoyer..” He hisses. His voice sounding like a hungry cat as he draws closer to you. Spy has a very distinct look in his eye. One that basically screams thoughtful and mysterious. You nearly passed out at the unintentionally romantic gesture.

- “Please throw me off a fucking building.” You say.

- “What?”

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #demoman x reader #heavy x reader #medic x reader #spy x reader #tf2 x reader #tf2 x you #pyro x reader #sniper x reader #I FORGOT TO DO MISS PAULING IM SORRY

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nikaglazr · 5 months

Text

The Party - Nika Muhl

Synopsis: Nika and Y/N had been rivals since Freshman season. Nika being the defensive presence of UConn, while Y/N was the same for Virginia Tech. Now, in their junior seasons, both face off in the final four. But the night before the game, the two teams find themselves in the same club.

“You always come to the parties, to pluck the feathers off all the birds.”

PART 1 !!

Part 2: https://www.tumblr.com/nikaglazr/750590525468491776/the-after-party-nika-muhl

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N’s POV

The flight to Cleveland was uneventful. Most of the team slept and the ones who didn’t just sat in silence. Not me and Georgia though

“You pumped for this game, eh?” The shorter Australian girl says as she pushes my shoulder lightly.

“Super. Feeling even better now that we’re going up against UConn.” I respond, smirking a bit.

“Speak for yourself, I have to guard Paige! She’s like 6 foot!”

I laugh at the girls comment before checking the time. 5:30 pm. I look back up at the girl before saying,

“We should go out tonight, like you, me, and whatever girls decide to tag along.” I tell her. I shift in my seat to adjust my seatbelt before turning back to her.

She laughs before responding. “That’s actually a great idea. I’m sure Eliza and Gabby would say yes.” She smiles.

I nod at that as we both go back to our previous activities, talking momentarily every now and then.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

*Time Skip: At hotel*

When we get to the hotel, me and Georgia immediately decide to room together. After getting out the elevator, and Georgia struggling to unlock the door, we finally get in our room. I instantly drop my bags on one of the beds, my body going with it.

“Want me to text the gc to see if they want to go?” I ask pulling out my phone.

“Yeah, we should go to that Bird of Paradise place, they have hella cool lights” Georgia voice echos from the bathroom.

I pull up the gc and type out a quick messege.

~~~~~~~~

Hokie Hoochies 🐱🖤

Y/N: Yall wanna hit up birds of paradise at like 9 w me and Geo❓❓

Kit Kat: oohhhh yes 👍👍

Tilda: I got a assignment i cant 😔

Lanna: OUU YUHH 🗣️

Sam Suff: Trust I WILL be there 🙏🙏

Gabber: Yessss I need it

Carys: Can’t im T’s partner on the assignment

Mack: I cant im so so jetlagged

Y/N: Alr alr bet we loadin in this rental coach bought be ready by 8:30

~~~~~~~~

I turn my phone off and yell at Georgia about what the girls said.

~~~~~~~~~~

*Time Skip: 8:00 pm*

Me and Georgia decide to start getting ready since we have to go pick up the car. I decide to put on i black fitting leather long sleeve with dark green cargos, finishing off with black chunky sneakers and light makeup (or wtv you want).

After Georgia finishes getting ready we head out to the rental car in the hotel parking lot. In a few minutes all the other girls arrive and we all pack into the car, Georgia driving.

“I got aux!” Samyha yells, earning laughs from the other girls.

The ride there was hype. We were all getting ourselves ready for tonight. It was probably for the best that Sam got control of the music, she has really good taste. As we pull up we all hop out the car and head to the door.

“Slim thick, caramel skin, 5 5 this bitch a ten!” Alanna sings as we get in.

“Hair done bills paid catch me slidin inna benz!” Samyha finishes as we make our way to the bar.

We all order various drinks before I decide to get a private bench.

We all sit down and talk for a bit as we take in the environment. After a few minutes some of the girls like Gabby and Elizabeth were out on the floor. The remaining five of us were just chilling and laughing until I hear a familiar voice. Nika fucking Muhl.

Suddenly a group girls come around the corner, my head turns to look at them. Identifying them as Paige Bueckers, Aubrey Griffin, Azzi Fudd, Ines Bettencourt, Ice Brady, and Nika Muhl. I sigh heavily before getting Georgia’s attention.

“Geo, guys, look who decided to show up.” I point the group of girls across the rather crowded club.

“You got to be fucking kidding me” Georgia says, her accent standing out over the loud music.

The girls grunt as we decide to let it go, hoping they didn’t wander over here.

Everything was fine until we heard Elizabeth and Gabby call out to us as she was over with the very set of girl we didn’t want to see.

Some of the girls put on believable smiles while I just sit monotone as they close in on the table.

“Look who I found!” Elizabeth says happy, you can tell she’s at least a bit tipsy.

“We decided that we would be nice and they could share the booth with us.” Gabby finishes the slightly intoxicated girls thoughts.

“If that’s okay with you guys, we can totally get one if it’s not.” Paige buts in.

My distaste must have been obvious as my least favorite person to see points it out.

“Well it’s obviously not, Right Y/LN?” She says with a attitude, her Croatian accent showing boldly throughout each word.

She’s already pissing me of but I keep my composure and mask my hatred, “no no, it’s perfectly fine. Go ahead” I say dismissively.

A few of the girls went to hang out on the floor with Eliza and Gabby, leaving only me, Georgia, Nika, Paige, and Samyha at the booth.

Nika has been giving me looks all night and if there wasn’t so many people around than I would confront her about it, but for the time being I just stay silent and look down at my drink.

Georgia clears her throat before speaking.

“So are you two hyped for tomorrow?” She asks, looking between Paige and Nika.

“Definitely, it’ll be fun.” Paige says comfortably as Nika just nods.

“Where are ya’ll staying?” Sam asks, looking at Paige since she is the more responsive out of the two.

“The- uhhh- Ritz Carlton I think? Yeah that one.” The blonde answers.

As my eyes travel up to find Paige, they meet a glaring Nika. I roll my eyes at her before getting up and heading back to the bar. After I get my drink I turn around only to see Nika coming up beside me.

She orders a drink before looking at me.

“I know you don’t want us there.” She says, taking a big drink of her cocktail.

“Is it that obvious princess?” I say with faux shock.

She just gives me the same glare from earlier.

“We’re gonna win you know?” She says bluntly.

That comment makes my blood boil as I meet her eyes.

“Yeah we’ll see. I might get coach to put Georgia on you so I can get Paige, since- you know- you don’t do to much offensively.”

“Whatever. We’ll let all this talk settle after tomorrow.” She says sighing angrily.

“Aw, sorry princess, didn’t know not being a good scorer got to you so much.” I pout teasingly at her.

The Croatian looks mad but she plays it off alright. After a few minutes of silence and drinking, you can tell she’s a bit intoxicated.

I suddenly feel a tug on my hand, I look and it’s Nika leading me out to the middle of the club. I give the girl a confused look but I end up following her anyway.

Once we get far enough she turns around and looks at me, but it’s not an angry look, it’s a lot more welcoming than that.

“We should dance.” She slurred slightly, her Croatian accent hanging off every word.

“I thought you hated me princess?” I ask playfully.

To be honest, Nika was never the ugliest person. Dare I say she was easy on the eyes. The only reason we didn’t get along was because during our freshman year, when we first played each other, she assumed I didn’t know Croatian. Which led to her saying some things she thought I couldn’t understand. Ever since the trash talk had reached an all-time high.

As I snap back to the scene in front of me, I see Nika taking off her coat.

“You’re a lot cuter off the court.” The girl replies simply, grabbing my hands and swaying gently.

Deciding to entertain the girls actions, I slowly sway with her. I decide to keep at least a little distance just to be respectful.

After a moment she steps closer and before I can react she just hugs me, hands going around my waist.

My breath hitches momentarily as the girl continues to sway back and forth to the music. I decide that her behavior will wear off as I slowly sway with her. I’ll take her to the rest of her team later.

After minutes and a few more songs, I decide that it’s time to head back to the booth. My hand goes to her lower back as I lead her through the buzzing crowd.

When we near the table I make eye contact with Paige. She seems to alert the other girls of our upcoming presence as they all look our way.

“I was wondering where you guys were.” Paige chuckles a bit as I help Nika sit down.

“She’s a little drunk so I brought her back.” I respond looking at the brunette beside me.

I look around the room to see a few UConn girls still dancing. They don’t look like their ready to leave, but Nika needs to get home.

“Hey Paige, if you guys wanna stay here I can run Nika to yalls hotel.” I offer, voice straining over the music.

“That would be great, i’ll give you the key. You know where it’s at right?” She asks while trying to pull, what I assume to be the key, out of her pocket.

I just nod before looking towards Georgia.

“I’ll be back with the rental, love ya.” I say quickly before grabbing the key off the table and helping the drunk girl up.

As we get out to the car I start to hear slurred mumbles from behind me. I smile a little, realizing what happened tonight. That was the first non-hostile encounter i’ve ever had with Nika.

When we get to the car I open to door for her and she stumbles into the car silently. I walk around to the drivers side before getting in and starting the car. I turn on my gps to their hotel and start driving.

After a few minutes of driving, Nika starts talking- well more like mumbling to me.

“Thank you baby.” She says looking at me.

I know shes drunk but god is she hot right now. I look over to her quickly before looking back at the road.

“Course.” I respond simply, a light pink hue coating my cheeks.

Unfortunately, she seems to notice as she shamelessly points it out.

“Don’t be nervous baby, it’s just us.” The Croatian slurs, touching my unoccupied arm.

“Nika sto-“ I barely get out.

“We all know you want me. You want my body don’t you?” She teases. “I bet when you heard me cuss you in Croatian that one time you only got mad because you were turned on, right baby?”

At this point my brain is foggy, whether it’s from the alcohol or the girls bold teases. Probably both.

“You’re drunk and delusional.” I respond surely.

Nika giggles quietly before turning back to the window.

“You so were.” She giggles again.

I decide to ignore her as we pull up to her hotel. I get out first, walking to the other side to help her out.

Once we get in the hotel she immediately runs toward the elevator, pushing the up button multiple times.

The ride in the elevator was boring, thank god. As the door opens, Nika leads me straight to her room. I open the door and she goes straight to her bed.

“This is me.” She giggles, kicking her shoes off.

I laugh quietly before walking up to the now laying down Nika.

“Bye pretty girl.” I whisper as I kiss her forehead softly and quickly.

She only hums in response. I make my way over to the door, but not without taking one last glance to the, now, half asleep girl.

After getting back to the club I see all the girls waiting by the other team’s car. When they see me they all seem to run in at once. As everyone I came here with gets in I see Paige walking up to me.

“Thank for taking Nika back. You’re not as bad as you are on the court, y’know.” She says standing outside my car window.

“No problem. And you’re pretty cool too Paige.” I respond before driving off.

After getting to the hotel, we all part into our respected rooms.

Georgia, around as sober as me, helps a few of the girls into their rooms before coming back to ours.

We both make eye contact as we get ready for bed.

“Good game tomorrow Geo.” I say getting settled in.

“Good game Y/NN.” She mumbles back as she gets in her bed.

I think about the events of tonight. I can’t let Nika’s comments distract me tomorrow. Im sure she won’t even remember it by then. After a few minutes of thinking in the dark, I feel sleep overcome my senses.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

THATS THE END OF PART ONE !!

I yapped a bit but I hope yall like 😝😝

//////////////////////////

#imagines #nika muhl #nika mühl #ncaa wbb #wbb #uconn wbb #im so gay #foryou #nika #tumblr fyp #viralpost #my fic #oneshots

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thathastagbiotch · 5 months

Text

Run away

•Donatello x fugitive/on the run from the law! reader

•Romantic :D

•What if……vigilante meets cute thief?

—————————————————-

Oh no. See, you were currently being hunted by the police for stealing stuff from target. Why target? That’s literally the worst store to rob from, it’s been proven. Why couldn’t you think?

Moving on, you decided that the best tactic was to stay underground. Just for a while. Dress yourself up undercover until it blows over.

The police were hot on your trail. What target item requires this much security? Like genuinely, why are the police chasing you? That’s so stupid.

You hid in an alley. You quickly changed from your black suit(hey, what’s the point of stealing if you’re not looking slutty doing ur?) into a fluffy pink dress with a wave of your hand, and tied your hair into a ponytail.

Oh yeah, did I mention you’re a mutant? Well, kind of. You got caught in a radioactive nuclear blast that resulted in you getting random pink splotches on your body(work with me here, I’m just spitballing) and some cool powers. You were like, Eleven, but more badass.

The police were searching the block, looking for you. Seriously, what did you steal? You just stole a cool looking figurine from the back of the target supply room that was held in a glass box. No biggie. Nonetheless, you needed to hide, and fast. You quickly used your powers to move a manhole cover, and climbed down into the sewers.

Wow. You have been reduced to this. A rat. A pink, thief, rich, rat. Not a desirable outcome, I must admit. Nonetheless, you could back this. It’s got lots of space, a bunch of exits, and it’s stealthy.

Eh, who are you kidding? You’re in the fucking sewers. It’s the pits. It’s where all the dumped human feces go. And you’ve gotta chill here for the next, what, month?

You wandered around. Some many twists and turns, so many different ways to go and get lost. You began to map out everything in your little pocket sketchbook. Atleast you wouldn’t get lost.

Anywa- wait. Is that…..sounds? Like a Lou Jitsu movie? Le gasp! Lou Jitsu is like, the greatest action hero of all time! Whatever was going on, you had to check it out.

When you reached the sound, you found out that someone had made a home in the sewers. With a bed. And a tv. And FOOD! God, you were hungry. It wouldn’t hurt to sneak in, grab some food, and leave, right? You’ve been reduced to common thief anyway, might as well.

So you teleported in. You looked through the kitchen till you spotted something. Something glorious. A box of pizza. You quickly reached in to grab a slice when ‘knocks down entire pile of pots and pans cutely’.

So much for inconspicuous..

Whatever. You quickly grabbed the pizza and began to eat silently. Not your idea of a perfect Sunday, but it’s cool. Suddenly, you heard someone come around the corner.

“Raph, I’m telling you, there’s no one in the kitche-“

What the hell is that? Is-is that a fucking mutant turtle? Sorry, turtles?

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT-“

——————————————————

Hehe. You like? Took three days.

Part 1(ur here), Part two

#Donatello x reader #rottmnt #disaster twins #smarts and crafts #rise of the tmnt #tmnt 2018 #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt fanfiction #rottmnt donatello x reader #Fanfiction #delulu #being delulu is the solulu #Like I’m so deadass serious #I’m fucking delusional #rottmnt x reader

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writingjourney · 2 years

Text

5 types of christmas kisses with copia (+1) | cardinal copia x reader

summary: you and the cardinal have been tiptoeing around each other for a while now – it’s time to let the festive spirit do the rest.

content: ~8k words, absolute fluff, like… tooth-rotting fluff with festive sprinkles on top, fem!reader bc I used the female declinations for the Italian, it's not over the top christmassy

(And yes it’s 5 kissy kisses – on the mouth. The rest is for FREE!)

Have yourselves a merry little Christmas fic ♡

Ao3 link – Masterlist

1 The First Kiss

The abbey is empty.

Well, technically that is a lie. But it feels empty. Yuletide approached fast this year. Half the siblings have left to visit family or friends and join their loved ones in their celebrations, whatever that may look like for them. Of course there are still many people here who choose not to see their families, who don’t have safe spaces outside of the abbey or who just want to celebrate here. Nevertheless, the halls are never as empty as during this time of year.

It’s a peaceful, pensive sort of quiet and, for the most part, you adore it.

Strolling through the corridors of the old building you shiver whenever a chill draught hits you. You can’t wait to reach the reading room, plop down in front of the fireplace and continue your read of Emma. Ever since the cold set in you’re beginning to understand Mr Woodhouse – avoiding to get a cold in an old stone building seems to be an impossible feat, runny noses and scratchy throats a constant nuisance. On your way past the library you barely hear a sound. Some Siblings are still bustling about outside, setting up stalls for the upcoming Winter Market, celebrating the Solstice with music, hot drinks and sweet treats.

You open the door to your favorite reading room but instead of the usual quiet you’re met with an already crackling fire and a familiar figure perched in the old leather armchair right in front of it. The other tables and chairs in the room are deserted.

“Oh.” The sound is involuntary. You did not expect to see the Cardinal tonight and suddenly you feel not only very self-conscious but a little overwhelmed by the sudden influx of emotions his presence is causing you.

„Sister,“ he says, startled, looking up from the book in his hands.

„I’m so sorry… I didn’t think anyone would be here.“

“Oh, don’t be. There is enough room for us both in here, eh? Come sit by the fire with me. We have not seen each other today.”

As you step closer he makes to stand and you just know he’s going to offer you the armchair, the only properly comfortable reading spot in the room. You could not accept it, not when he was here first, when sitting on the floor would cause him so much more discomfort than you. “Please, stay seated, Cardinal. I will just sit down right beside you on the carpet.”

“No, no, I cannot–”

“Please,” you try again. “I actually prefer being closer to the fire and the carpet is soft.”

The reluctance doesn’t leave his face as he sits back, watches you crouching down next to him. You let the warmth of the fire seep into you as you lean against the armchair and after another few seconds you rest your head against the Cardinal’s knee.

“Are you sure this is okay, sister?”

“It’s perfectly fine, don’t worry.”

You open your book, finally start reading as you continue to slowly defrost. After a few minutes you’re completely comfortable, lost somewhere in Highbury with Emma and Harriet. You aren’t wearing your head piece today, having opted for a proper hat when you were working outside in the cold earlier. So you’re somewhat caught by surprise when you suddenly feel a hand in your hair. An ungloved hand. The Cardinal doesn’t say anything, just runs his fingers through the strands with utmost care.

You turn to him and when his eyes meet yours he looks as though he only just realised that he did it, a tinge of red crawling up his neck.

“Oh, uh… mi scusi tanto,” he says, voice slightly shaky. “I mean, I didn’t… there was a stray hair…”

You swear your cheeks are the color of his crimson cassock. “It’s… it’s okay, it felt nice.”

“It did?”

“Yes. Very.”

He nods, lips tightly pressed together but you see them trembling anyway. You force yourself to look back at your book, scared that you embarrassed him, but then his hand finds back into your hair and he continues scratching your scalp very gently. You wonder if your hair is soft, if it feels nice against his bare fingertips and, more worryingly, if he can somehow feel your rapid heartbeat. Needless to say you can’t focus on Jane Austen for the life of you, not when you have your very own romantic hero right beside you, giving you the goosebumps of a lifetime.

“Cara,” he says after a while.

“Hm?”

You look up at him, only to find him observing you with his mismatched eyes, a warm tint to both of them as they reflect the orange light of the fire. “I don’t know about you but I don’t think I can focus on reading right now. I think I would rather talk with you.”

He must have seen that you didn’t flip the page, you realise. Did he flip his? Before you can find an answer he slides down the armchair, plopping down right next to you on the floor. Your breath catches, rendering you speechless. His face is now so close to yours that you can count each individual freckle and it’s so tempting to stare. He is so very handsome, so stunningly beautiful.

“I am glad we always seem to find each other,” he says. “Even without trying.”

You smile. “I agree, Cardinal.”

“I told you to call me Copia, when we’re alone, cara mia.”

“I’m sorry, I keep forgetting.” You chuckle, trying not to stare at him too hard. “Are you looking forward to the Solstice, Copia?”

“Sì, sì, very much. Are you?”

You relish in the way he clings to your every word, the way he will always return the question, coax more words out of you just to hear you talk. This is not the first time you’re alone with him – by now you like to think of him as something of close friend, even though it’s not the right word at all. For the past few months encounters like this one have been a regular occurrence – reading together in the library, finding into easy-going conversations about your respective days, little chats in his office here and there after you dropped of some documents for him, sometimes even eating dinner together in the refectory when he was not too busy. Most of the time you just naturally gravitated towards each other, even without planning your meetings.

“I am looking forward to it very much,” you reply, barely hiding your excitement. “I can’t wait to have some mulled wine and candy and just watch everyone be happy.”

There is always this magnetic pull you feel in his proximity – every eye contact, every touch, no matter how innocent, accompanied by a vivid sense of longing for him. You can’t deny that you’re harbouring an intense crush. It’s the very reason why the word friend is such an ill fit. He is so much more.

“That is what I look forward to as well,” he agrees, just as unable to look away. “I especially hope to see you happy, cara mia.”

You’re cheeks are burning, from the fire or your blush or maybe even both. “Do you?”

He only nods, caught in a similar fluster. The ungloved hand you felt in your hair earlier now reaches for your face. You almost expect to feel a chill, but his skin is warm, soft fingertips gliding over your face, mapping it, tracing every curve like you’re a statue and he’s the sculptor.

This time you can’t fight the pull, but you get caught up in its currents. You lean in and he does the same and then your mouths meet somewhere in the middle.

It’s a little awkward at first. You go in with too little and he goes in with too much pressure and your noses bump against each other twice when you attempt to adjust. It quickly evens out, his fingers find your jaw, angling your face just right, and then suddenly it’s all warmth and whimpers. His mouth moves against yours gently, his moustache tickling your upper lip. You don’t even care that you’re losing your page as the book slides from your lap, your whole body angling towards his.

It isn’t the passionate, fiery kind of first kiss that you always imagine late at night when you’re so filled with longing for him that it hurts. It’s the kind of first kiss you imagine when you see him somewhere around the abbey, when the mere sight of him knocks the wind out of you, when you struggle to form words in his proximity, still in hopes that something might happen.

When he lets you go you take a shaky breath. You let your suddenly very heavy body fall against the armchair, covering half of your crimson face with your arm, a stupid smile on your face. Copia still looks at you, inhales deeply with a similar sort of smile on his lips. You continue to sit there, grinning at each other with not a single word uttered, the crackling of the fire the only sound in the room.

2 The Comforting Kiss

No matter how happy you are to be here at the abbey, to have found a home, Winter is always a particularly heavy time. Grief gnaws its way into your heart, not just for the people you lost but for long abandoned parts of yourself. It’s a weighty sense of loss for everything that you can never get back, a bittersweet melancholy that is woven through every occurring thought.

At the same time, and not less intensely, you feel grateful for the people you found here – friends and mentors. And… lovers. A lover. Perhaps, if things go well.

The Cardinal treats you like gold dust, like you’re so precious he needs to tread lightly, and you love that mindfulness about him. But it also means he’s been taking things awfully slow. Ever since your first kiss in the reading room not much has happened – at least no more kisses. You met, you spend time together, but you can’t call it dating. There has not been a proper date, no spoken agreement that this is what you’re doing. You’ve exchanged soft touches and whispered words of mutual adoration. No big words, just small, gentle affirmations – a “You look beautiful today” here, an “I’ve been looking forward to seeing you all day” there. They don’t blare out your affection for each other, but they whisper softly. And it makes you more in love with him every single day.

If only you knew if he felt the same way or if his hesitation stems from uncertainty.

“You are lost in thoughts today, mia bambina.”

You look up at Primo’s face, meeting his worried expression with a gentle smile. “I’m sorry, Papa. I suppose I am a little distracted.”

“It wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain… Cardinale… would it?”

There is no fooling him, by now he knows you too well from working in the gardens all spring and summer. “He… may be one of the reasons.”

You’re helping Primo with decorating some of the trees today and it’s a welcome distraction from your more melancholic thoughts. Christmas, Yule, the Winter Solstice celebration – whatever you choose to call it – is kept very neutral here. Anyone is welcome to make propositions, to bring in the customs and traditions that they most cherish, and make them their own. You asked Primo about decorating the trees with lights and a few ornaments made by crafty siblings. It’s an easy way to light up the grounds for the upcoming Winter Market and make it all so much prettier.

“Speaking of your amore…”

“Oh he’s not my–“

You stop as you spot the Cardinal, trailing the familiar shape of his body all the way from the abbey to the entrance of the gardens. He’s clearly on a mission, determined movements, a brisk sort of walk, and... Oh Satan, is he looking for you?

All it takes is Primo yelling Cardinale! for him to whip around, facing your direction. He waves as he spots you, a little awkwardly, like he’s scared you won’t wave back. But of course you do and his hand gets steadier as he shakes it two more times, a timid smile on his handsome face.

“I will leave you to it,” Primo says with a knowing look and you smile as he carefully makes his way back inside. He greets the Cardinal in passing who half-bows in return and they exchange a few words in Italian that you don’t quite catch. You use the time to smooth out your hair, clean your palms on the dark wool of your coat.

When the Cardinal finally approaches, his red cassock is a bright contrast to the shiny white snow all around you. He’s wearing a matching robe on top, for more warmth.

“Hi, hello,” he says. Then he takes your hand in both of his, shaking it delicately. “Good to see you.”

You smile at him. “It’s so good to see you, too. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy all day.”

“Oh no need to be sorry.” He glances around. “The… uh… the trees, they look very beautiful.”

You can’t help but beam at him. “Thank you, we spent all day decorating them.”

He smiles affectionately, hand still clasping yours, but then he suddenly frowns and takes off one of his gloves. Your heart stutters at the skin contact, at the contrast between his warmth and your cold. Not that he notices your reaction. “Your hand is freezing, cara mia.”

“Oh, it’s fine, I had gloves but I took them off because they bothered me.”

He tsks, shaking his head in mild scorn. “Where are these gloves you speak of?”

“I think I left them… ugh…” You look around. “Maybe at the entrance gate?”

“That won’t do, no.” He shakes his head again, more rapidly this time. “I can’t have your pretty hands freezing off.”

Pretty hands? You can’t dwell on his words because he’s already yanking his second glove off his hand. In contrast to these harsh movements he is so heartbreakingly gentle as he slides them onto your hands, carefully fiddling with your fingers until they’re all covered in warm leather.

“There, così va molto meglio.”

“But now your hands will be cold, Cardinal,” you argue.

“Copia,” he corrects. “And I don’t mind. I spent all day inside, you need them more. Are you very cold?”

“A little, but I like the fresh air,” you admit. “Do you want to walk with me before we go inside?”

He nods, following you down the path to the pond. Even from a distance it looks magical, covered in ice crystals and snow. The grounds look like they’re straight out of a fairytale and a few minutes into your walk it starts snowing again.

There is an easy silence between you and Copia as you take in the sight, your steps crunching in the snow covered path. The sun is already setting and you realise that yet another day has passed. The Solstice is almost upon you and then it’s almost New Year’s Eve and you’re starting to wonder how you ended up where you are now. The underlying melancholia is flaring up, all the pain you tried to push away settling in, and your heart sits heavy in your chest. The cold seeps into you, chilling you to your bones.

“Cara,” Copia says, breaking your trance.

You look at him, realise you stopped walking. “Oh.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, it’s just…”

You never finish because you’re suddenly busy fighting back tears. You’re not even sure what set it off, why you have to be overwhelmed by your feelings now, when you’re supposed to be overjoyed to be on a walk with your Cardinal. The tears decide to leave your eyes despite your best efforts, rolling down your cheeks in hot, painful trails.

Copia’s eyes widen. “Oh, no no no, non ti posso vedere in lacrime, cara mia.”

His bare hands shoot up to your cheeks and they’re freezing as he cradles your face, thumbs moving in frantic half-circles like wipers on a windshield, trying to catch them before they fall. The snow comes heavier now, thick snowflakes mixing in with your tears as they land on your burning skin.

“Sorry,” you mumble, sniffling. “It’s just a lot.”

“I understand.” He gives you a reassuring smile. “Don’t apologise.”

You let him wipe your face clean, his fingertips now not quite so cold anymore.

“Can I…”

You don’t know what he’s asking but nod anyway, desperate for any comfort he’s so eager to provide. Copia kisses your cheeks and you breathe out a sigh at how soft he is, cling to whatever piece of fabric you can reach on his chest. The kisses come in abundance, covering every inch of skin within reach. He moves from your outer cheeks to your nose, so many kisses, lasting for mere seconds while the imprints linger on your skin for way longer. Eventually, he reaches the corners of your mouth and you’re silently praying for him to properly kiss you.

And he answers your prayer. The last kiss finally lands on your lips only that he pulls away just as fast. You feel his warm breath against your skin as he lingers, silently awaits your complaints. When there aren’t any he leans in again, harder this time. Your lips are chapped from being out in the cold all day and yet he kisses them like they’re made of honey, moving his own against them in a languid, careful rhythm. And while your heart is hammering in your ribcage, harder than ever before, your mind is suddenly calm.

Maybe this time of year is not so bad if it means you get to taste snowflakes on Copia’s lips.

When he pulls away, flustered and breathless, he stammers out a whole speech. “I’ve been thinking… I know you are excited for the market, sì? I thought it was a good idea… I mean, only if you don’t have any plans, I thought we could go together?” His eyes are filled with a hesitant hope and you know he’s ready to be rejected, to be laughed at even. “I know maybe you want to go with friends. You have plans already. I understand, of course.”

“No, no.” You smile at him, running your hand up his chest. “I would love to go with you, Copia.”

His whole face lights up. His nose and ears are red from the cold, heavy snowflakes caught in his hair, melting on his lashes and eyebrows, and he looks so adorably sweet, so genuinely happy, that you move in again to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. After you let go he looks more flustered than ever and when you slide your fingers into his, hiding your joined hands in the warmth of your coat pocket, he stumbles after you without a word.

3 The Tipsy Kiss

The abbey is brimming over with mirth, the courtyard filled with festive cheer and drunk laughter – and you? You have swallowed a whole swarm of bees as it seems – caught somewhere between the great happiness and the imminent panic that come with a first date.

Is it even a date?

When the Cardinal picked you up earlier, punctual to the minute, he held a small bouquet of white heathers, some greenery and two bright red roses for you. He must have asked Primo for help because you know the roses were cut from the greenhouse, that this type of floristry is unique to the eldest Emeritus. That the Cardinal would go to such lengths just to surprise you indicates heavily that this is a date, right? The flowers are waiting in your bedroom now and you already know the whole room is going to smell so nice when you get back later.

“Do you want to have a look around?”

You turn to Copia, watch him observe the crowd of people gathered in the courtyard. The market is open for the locals as well – not that too many of them find their way here – and so it’s a busy festival, a night filled with so much potential.

Guiding you into the action, Copia takes your hand. You’re both wearing gloves, no actual skin contact, but it makes your insides tingly all the same.

You try not to freak out internally – and fail miserably.

Holding the Cardinal’s hand in public is not a small thing, it is in fact a very big thing. You already notice the curious glances of a few siblings, whispering or even just blatantly staring. When you pass by some of your friends who are vaguely aware of you infatuation with the Cardinal, one of them gives you a wink, followed by a very distinct hand gesture that you meet with a scowl.

“Are you alright?” Copia asks immediately.

“What?” You look at him, his brows knit together in worry.

“Should I… should I not… uh… hold your hand?”

“Of course you should! I’m sorry, it was just… ugh… my friends.” You’re rambling and he’s still frowning. “I like it, I don’t mind people looking. What I’m saying is – please, don’t let go of my hand.”

The confusion is written all over his face but he nods, squeezes your fingers through the layers of knitwear and leather between you. The gesture immediately calms you down. The last thing you want is for him to think you’re embarrassed or ashamed.

“We should get something to drink, sì?” he asks, perceiving your feelings. “To relax?”

“Yes!”

He smiles, pulling you to the nearest stall that sells all kinds of hot beverages – Glühwein, Glögg, cider, hot chocolate, different kinds of teas and coffee.

You get a steaming mug with the most aromatic mulled wine you ever had, the scent of cinnamon and clove almost overpowering, and then watch Copia struggle to choose for himself.

“The mulled white wine is supposed to be really good, too,” you recommend. “I think they used Italian wine.”

Copia takes your word for it and then you find a small bar table by the side, covered in fresh snowflakes. You really want to hold your mug with both hands so you won’t spill the wine all over your coat, but the prospect of letting his hand go is ghastly. Instead you choose to take the tiniest sips imaginable.

“Do you want to try?”

The words break your sharp focus on not spilling anything and you realise he means his own wine. It’s such an unexpected question, a thing that people do who are very close, proper couples, and you wonder if that is where you are headed now. If he thinks of you like that, if he wants to be that. Maybe that is why tasting his wine feels weirdly intimate – but of course you want to. Not for the taste but for the sake of drinking from the same cup, to feel closer to him in any way that you can, to share with each other.

“It’s really good,” you say, holding out your own cup for him.

It is kind of surreal to watch him take a sip from the exact side that you were drinking from earlier, not worried about germs, no hesitation. Of course you have kissed before, there is no need for this to feel so special.

And yet it does.

“You said you helped prepare, sì?” he asks. “With the food and drinks?”

“Yes, I helped out in the kitchens this morning.”

“So what did you make?”

You raise your brows. “Oh, I made the candied almonds.”

He doesn’t even wait for you to say anything else, just pulls you towards the candy stall right next to your table. The almonds come in small paper cones, still warm and smelling like a saccharine dream. Despite spending all morning preparing them you’re still not tired of their sweet aroma.

He tries them, giving a pleasured sigh that gives you goosebumps. Then he makes the gesture to show that he’s taking his hat off to you. “Dolcezza, they are exquisite.”

You giggle. “Really?”

He takes another handful. “Assoluto. They tickle my taste buds.”

“Maybe it’s because I made them with so much love.”

Copia stops for a second, gazing at you with warm adoration in his eyes. “I am starting to think that all you do is made with love.”

He’s not wrong about it, not since you started spending time with him. And today is so special. You don’t even remember when you last felt so frisky, so unbothered by anything and just happy in the moment. You continue making your round, trying out the different beverages and foods, to the point where you’re not only a little drunk but also high on sugar, laughing together, giggling over silly jokes, and never once letting go of each other’s hands.

A cold wind sets in after a while, somehow clawing its way under all the layers of your clothing. You’re tipsy, maybe even a little needy, so you press yourself into Copia’s side in a half hug, eagerly absorbing his warmth. He feels so solid against you, the smell of cologne and incense and spices lulling you in.

“Are you tired?” Copia asks, wrapping his arm around your shivering form.

“A little,” you admit.

“Let me walk you to your room, cara mia,” he whispers.

“We can stay longer if you want to.”

He shakes his head, squeezing you to his side. “I want to see you safe in your room, eh? That’s what I want.”

Reluctantly you let him lead you back inside, still safely tucked against him. You forgot how many drinks you had but you’re starting to feel their effects now. Your legs feel leaden, every step harder than the previous one all while you continuously fight the urge to giggle every few seconds. You’re not drunk, you tell yourself, you’re very sober and very normal.

Eventually, you arrive in front of your door. Suddenly you’re aware that this means goodbye and you’re not ready at all to let Copia go yet. You let your back fall against the closed door, fiddling with your gloves as you try to read his expression.

He’s tipsy as well, swaying the tiniest bit as he stands in front of you, watching you with his black-rimmed, mismatched eyes. But they’re not dark, not scary, they’re wide and questioning, anticipating your next move.

You both know you’re standing on the precipice, heading somewhere, but the specific destination is yet to be spoken. And you can’t jump until you know.

“So was this… a date, then?” you ask, wine-drunk and giddy and not at all concerned with your bluntness. It’s the question you’ve been mulling over all night.

His eyes widen. “Was it… a date?”

“Mhm.”

“I– ugh…” He pauses, lips pursed. “Do you want it to be?”

“Copia, what do you think?” You can’t help but smile, giggle, bite your lip to keep from full on laughing. “Yes.”

“Yes,” he mimics, staring at your mouth without even hiding it. “Our first date?”

“The very first.”

“Did you like it?” His eyes are still trained on your mouth, on your smile. “Our first date?”

“I loved it.”

“Oh.”

“Copia.”

“Yes, that’s me.”

You giggle again. “You’re so pretty.”

“I’m pretty?”

You remove your gloves, push them into your pocket so you have your hands free. Then you trace the line of his jaw, run your thumb over his left sideburn. “So pretty. Beautiful, even. I can never stop looking at you.”

He’s inching closer, not once glancing away from your lips. “I am nothing compared to you, cara. You are the stars in the sky, you are the sun shining your light on me.”

“Copia–“

Searching hands find your waist, pulling you to him. He inhales, shudders, his voice pleading. “Can I kiss you goodnight?”

Your heart explodes, fireworks spreading out in your body at the sheer prospect of it, only intensified by the lingering buzz of the wine. “Yes, please.”

Not a second of hesitation. He hits somewhere close to the corner of your mouth, correcting his position with a few more misplaced kisses until he fully captures your lips, kissing you with reckless abandon. You pull him in, fingers tangling in his hair, and he lets out a pleasured moan, deepening the kiss. It’s the first time you open your mouth for him, the first time he uses the chance to taste you, allowing you to taste him in return. The sweetness of the almonds still linger on his tongue. It’s intoxicating. Your mind is veiled in clouds of lust and affection, a sugary high unrivalled by any actual candy.

You lose track of time. He leans into you, basically caging you against the door, and you kiss for what feels like eternity constrained to seconds. Your dulled senses are completely captured by him and when he eventually breaks away you need a moment to reorient yourself.

“We should… uhm…” His mind clearly stumbles over his words just like yours struggles to understand what he’s saying. Eventually he licks his lips and sighs. “Merda, ti voglio così tanto.”

Still breathless, you only gape at his mouth. His lips are red, plump bottom lip wet and swollen and you’re so kiss-drunk, so desperate for more. But you’re also dizzy and you know it’s not a good idea to continue any of this while you’re both tipsy.

He’s not asking to come in, of course, he would never, not unless you were completely sober. So he pulls you in for a full hug, presses his face into the crook of your neck as he squeezes your body. You can feel him all over you, but there is too much thick, woolen fabric between you to make out the proper shape of his body.

“Good night,” he mumbles against your skin. “Sleep well, mia bella. I will see you tomorrow.”

“I had the best night, Copia. Thank you.”

“Me too, cara mia.” He breaks away, crooked smile on his lips. “You are… you are all I could ever ask for. Perfetta.”

It takes you a few more minutes to finally let go of each other and even then he waves at you as he retreats, almost falling down the stairs that lead to the sibling’s dorms. But you can’t bring yourself to close the door before he’s out of sight and once you do you already miss him.

Fifteen minutes later you’re showered and ready for bed, barely functioning anymore. Opening your bedroom door you’re hit with the scent of roses, the intensely vivid fragrance that only Primo’s flowers carry. When you pull the covers over your head, a cosy warmth blossoms in your chest, and you can’t help but let out an excited little squeal.

He makes you so incredibly happy.

4 The Mistletoe Kiss

Groaning under their weight, you carry two boxes of decorations all the way down the hall, almost stumbling around a corner. You set them down right next to the door that indicates you’ve reached your destination – Copia’s office.

You pause. There is music, the notes pouring out of the gap under the door. For a moment you press your ear to its wooden surface. It just wasn't the same, alone on Christmas day. Presents, what a beautiful sight, don′t mean a thing if you ain't holding me tight. You′re all that I need, underneath the tree. Kelly Clarkson? You realise he’s listening to Christmas music and your heart does a double take. Here’s the man you’re in love with, a Satanic Cardinal preaching the Olde One’s gospel, humming along to christmassy pop songs as he does his unholy paper work. How could you not fall for him?

The song fades out and the next thing you hear is Mariah Carey’s drawl. You decide to knock before anyone catches you eavesdropping, but you don’t get an answer. He clearly doesn’t hear you over the music, so you opt to just let yourself in, grabbing the first of the two boxes.

You kick the door open to avoid dropping it. “Good morning.”

Copia jumps in his chair, pressing the pause button faster than lightening speed.

“Oh, uh… cara.”

You smile. “Why did you turn it off?”

His face turns crimson and he clutches the crucifix on his chest. “Ugh… ehm…”

You understand his embarrassment. From a very superficial perspective he may not exactly be the type of man you’d expect to sing along to Kelly Clarkson and maybe it’s not even what he usually listens to, but it’s Christmas songs – Christmas love songs – and you’re in the perfect mood for that.

“You should never pause Mariah,” you say, walking over to his side to press the button again, turning the volume down just a little so you can still talk. His blush deepens but the up-beat music immediately draws a smile onto both of your faces. “It’s a good song.”

“It’s… it’s not bad,” he agrees. “A classic, which is… which is why I listen to it, of course. The only reason, sì.”

You hide your grin and lean against his desk. “Sooo… I didn’t come to discuss music, actually, but because I realised that we haven’t decorated your office yet.”

Copia furrows his brow, folding his hands in his lap. “Oh, yes… I am not good with these things, cara mia, I don’t know how to make it look nice.”

You take one of his hands, tracing the silver crucifix on his glove. “You spend so much time in this gloomy old room, you should have something to brighten it up during Winter.”

He smirks, lacing your fingers together. “Well, you’re here now.”

The corners of your mouth move upwards involuntarily. “Sadly I can’t be here all day.” He sighs dramatically but you ignore it. “Which is why I brought some things. Help me with the second box?”

Copia jumps up, ever helpful, and follows you to the door. You push it open and hear a sudden tinkling sound. Looking up, you find something that definitely was not there before, something someone must have taken out of your box with brushwood and garlands.

“Looks like someone just did the decorating for us…”

The mistletoe, adorned with two small bells and a bright red bow, sits right over the office door.

“Oh.” Copia caught it as well, eyes widening. “This is a…”

“Mistletoe, yes.”

He smiles. “I know what that means.”

“Do you?”

This time, you’re practiced – and sober.

Copia gently guides you into his frame right under the mistletoe, waits for you to wrap your arms around his neck before he tilts your chin just right. He leans in, kissing you gently at first before he adds more pressure. You’re enraptured by his softness, but if you’re being honest you want more. You’ve been thinking about your tipsy kiss all day yesterday, trying to conjure up his taste. At this point you need it like oxygen. It’s a desperate, overpowering urge, so before he can pull away you trap his bottom lip between your teeth.

“Cara…”

You don’t let him speak but kiss him again, taking over this time. One hand at the back of his neck you pull him in closer and he softly moans into your mouth. You suck at his bottom lip, softly lick over it before pushing your tongue inside. Copia’s grip on your waist tightens and you sigh as you taste him, caressing his tongue with yours. This time there is less sweetness and more of him, traces of coffee from earlier this morning, a hint of chocolate. It’s addicting and if it weren’t for your burning lungs you’d never stop.

When you eventually do break away, huffing out a nervous laugh, you hear a loud attempt at a whistle. Turning around you see Papa Emeritus III standing close to a nearby pillar, waving at Copia with a smirk on his painted face. He lifts two fingers in a peace sign.

“How about you get a room, Cardinale,” he teases and starts rubbing the fingers together.

Before either of you find your words again, he’s already heading off down the hall with a wink.

You remain stunned. “Does Papa know…”

“You wanted to decorate,” Copia says, deeply flustered as he gently turns you around and guides you back towards his office.

“No. I think we need to place that mistletoe somewhere else first,” you grumble, getting up on your tiptoes to remove it, “before you get any other visitors.”

You throw it back into the box, pushing it all the way down, and Copia fails to hide his smile.

5 The Thank You Kiss (+1 extra)

What do you even get a Satanic Cardinal for Christmas?

You’re not exactly sure how you end up carrying a nicely wrapped present into the wing that houses the higher ranking clergy members, wearing an actual festive outfit, hair done nicely, wearing a new perfume you hope he’s going to like. You spent over an hour after mass getting ready and now your nerves are on edge. It feels surreal to be here at all but Copia invited you over for dinner and of course you said yes. Your second date – on Christmas Eve. You both decided to spend the evening together, exchanging small presents and perhaps watch a movie. It sounds chill, you shouldn’t be nervous, and yet you’re so high on adrenaline that you’re trembling.

Approaching the door to his quarters, you notice it’s already open, light streaming into the gloomy hallway. You hear distant voices as you approach. Hesitantly glancing inside, you spy a ghoul in front of a fireplace, Copia standing right next to him.

“Can you get it to burn faster?” he asks. “It’s too cold, I want it to be warm when she gets here. Quick!”

The ghoul sighs in annoyance but you can see the fire kindling under his ministrations.

“You know she’s already here, right?” the ghoul asks.

Copia jumps, eyes flickering over to where you’re leaning in the doorframe, and the ghoul smirks, menacingly sharp teeth shining just below his mask.

“Thank you, you can go,” Copia says to him, ushering him out with rapid hand gestures. “And no comment from any of you tomorrow.”

You let the ghoul pass and close the door, turning to face the person you’re most happy to see in the whole wide world. You can’t help but smile when you notice how perplexed Copia seems by the sight of you. He stands and stares, wringing his hands nervously, eyes roaming your body.

“Oh, cara.” He swallows visibly. “You look bellissima. I can’t believe you’re real and here with me. With me! Che fortunato!”

He strides over, hands finding your shoulders as he leans in to stamp a wet kiss to your cheek.

“And you smell so nice,” he says, holding you for a second longer, nuzzling your neck.

“Thank you,” you whisper, even though it barely registers because he smells incredibly good as well. It’s the cologne you’ve noticed multiple times by now, the one that makes your whole stomach flutter.

When he lets go, smiling, hands rubbing your upper arms, you’re practically melting from all of his attention. He radiates affection this evening.

“You look very handsome,” you try. “It’s so strange to see you without your cassock.”

He’s wearing slacks and a matching black button down with a dark woolen sweater on top, no cassock, no biretta, only the black leather gloves and shoes. It’s rare to see his shape so full on display around here, the black hugging the curves and edges of his body, not covered in layers and layers of heavy fabric. You find it hard not to stare at him.

“Ah, thank you, thank you.” He waves off. “I try, you know.”

“I do know.”

For a second you think he’s going to kiss you, neither one of you ready to move away from each other, but then he laughs nervously and takes your hand, pulling you further into the room. You can tell he’s tense by the way he rambles on and on as he shows you his quarters, keeping your hand in a vice grip. They’re small but you can tell he tidied up for you. First he shows you where he keeps his rats, then where you can find the bathroom. You end up back in front of the fire, still holding his hand.

“I made dinner,” he explains. “So I thought we would eat and then I could give you my present.”

“You made dinner?”

“Uhm… yes. I ugh… I cook. Sometimes. When I have time.” He shrugs, a little hesitant. “It’s edible, I think.”

It’s much more than that.

Dinner is incredible, most of all because he made Italian food instead of a fancy roast, and you eat more than you expect, despite your nerves, just because it’s so incredibly good. He even prepared dessert – the best tiramisu you ever had – and you’re glad you didn’t wear an extremely tight outfit because by the end of it you’re more than full.

Copia is over the moon that you enjoyed it, you can see the proud glint in his eyes as he’s refilling your wine glasses. Adequately supplied with drinks, he offers you a seat on his couch in front of the fire, ready to exchange gifts.

You had agreed on only getting each other a small present, so your options when you spent most of yesterday in town were pretty limited. Copia’s interests are still somewhat of a mystery to you. You know he has a handful of rats, so you went to the pet store to get some treats for them. You also know he likes reading, that he is devoted to his work, that he enjoys watching movies. But you need to figure out the details before you can make more educated presents. So in the end you got him a mug. It’s silly really, but it has a red Cardinal on it (the bird) and says I ❤︎ my local Cardinal. You thought it was sweet, that he might appreciate the irony.

As he unwraps it you get incredibly nervous, palms sweaty and heart racing. It’s a really stupid gift and not at all meaningful. Maybe you should have just bought him a sweater or something more useful. He probably has tons of mugs already, it’s such a common gift. But right as you want to justify yourself, he chuckles and you think hat maybe it’s a genuine reaction. It looks genuine.

Before giving any sort of comment he kisses you, deeply, holding your face in the warm palms of his hand. It doesn’t last very long but you still taste the cocoa powder from dessert on his lips.

He carefully places the mug next to the treats on his coffee table, his other hand never leaving your cheek. “Thank you, cara mia. È veramente perfetto.”

“I was at the pet store and they told me those are treats for rats, I hope it’s okay. I wasn’t sure–“

His thumb moves over your jaw, down to the corner of your mouth. “Oh, don’t worry, dolcezza, they are going to love it. And I love it, too.”

He sports a dazzling smile, one that brings out his crow’s feet, and you finally relax. This is going smoothly, you decide. A relaxed evening, delicious food, a nice short kiss, he even liked your silly little present. Nothing can make you jump out of your seat moving forward.

Or maybe there is something.

“Now, I think it’s my turn,” Copia says and gets up to retrieve your present from the mantelpiece, handing it to you with a slightly theatrical bow.

You can tell he’s nervous by all of his gesturing, by the way he hums to himself as he sits back down next to you. It’s small in size most likely wrapped by the store in fancy red paper and ribbon, glittering all over.

“It’s just a lil sumthin’ sumthin’,” he says.

For some reason you doubt that. Underneath the gift wrap you find a longish velvety box – a jewellery box. “Copia, you shouldn’t have…”

“No, no, look inside.”

The box opens smoothly, revealing a dainty bracelet with with three charms – a C, a small heart and the initial of your first name. Each of them has a tiny white gemstone set in the middle.

“Oh.” You take it out of the box, cradling it in your hand like a long lost treasure. “But… but Copia, that’s not a small present. Why? I don’t–“

He cuts you off. “Because I’m in love with you.”

The words hang heavy in the hair as your mind and heart are trying to catch on. You look at him in mild shock and he stares back, almost in horror, waiting for your reaction. It’s a nervous silence, one he can’t take, and then he just starts to spill it all out.

“I planned to tell you today, it’s why I invited you over. I just had to, cara mia, it’s been on the tip of my tongue so often and keeping it in my chest hurts too much. I want you to know, even if you don’t feel the same.” He rambles on and on, very clearly expecting you to turn him down. “It’s okay, you don’t have to reply. Io capisco, so che è molto da digerire.”

“Copia,” you say but he goes on in rapid Italian. You reach for his hand, squeeze until he stops. “Copia, I’m in love with you, too.”

He gapes at you, eyes wide and fearful, taking a shuddering breath. “Non giocare con i miei sentimenti, cara mia.”

“I would never lie to you, Copia. It’s true. I’m in love with you.”

“You’re in love with me?” He laughs but it’s not a humorous laugh, it’s an incredulous one. “But I am just an old man and you are young and beautiful and kind and smart. You can have anyone, dolcezza. Are you sure you want this? You want me?”

“I want to be with you, Copia. It’s all I want.”

He grins, the weight lifted off his chest, and pulls you into his side so he can kiss your head. “You are the greatest gift I ever received, amore.”

“Help me with the bracelet?” you ask, handing it to him with a wonky smile..

His hands are shaking just as hard as yours as he reaches for the delicate trinket. All in all it takes him five attempts until the bracelet sits snugly against your wrist, sparkling in the warm glow of the fire in front of you.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” you whisper, trying very hard not cry. It’s a long awaited relief, unbridled happiness, mixed in with all the pent up emotions you can’t find words for just yet.

Copia doesn’t reply, you can tell he’s choked up as well and so instead of talking, you grab his face and pull him in for another kiss. It’s your sixth one, overall, but it’s the first one you exchange without any doubts about what it means. Maybe that’s why everything feels so limitless now. You pull him into the cushions, half on top of you, and let him deepen the kiss in a pace that he feels comfortable with. You taste a few salty tears on his tongue, mixing in with a hunger that has a lot to do with how perfectly heavy his body feels on top of yours.

You’re sure you won’t be able to count the kisses much longer.

I hope you're having a lovely Christmas – and maybe you'll even find a cardinal shaped present underneath the tree. Thank you for reading ♡

#:)#cardinal copia x reader #cardinal copia x female reader #copia x reader #ghost fanfiction #cardinal copia fanfiction #copia x fem!reader #cardinal copia #cardinal copia fluff #christmas fic #holiday fic #the band ghost fanfiction

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luxexhomines · 8 months

Note

Welcome back!!! It’s great to see you again, I hope you’ve been doing well 💕 Could I request a Kokichi/Reader (romantic) for the dialogue prompt “You're so persistent”? Either fluff or silly, whichever you prefer! Thanks and have fun!!

Thank you so much for the heart-warming welcome back and for the request!! I'm happy to see you again too, and I hope you've been doing well, too, ehe~ ♡ ♡

I took a little while to think about this prompt and to reacquaint myself with Kokichi as a character, ahaha. I realized then that I...don't even know how to write Kokichi, even though I love him so much?! But nevertheless, I tried to write something fun. Honestly, it feels kind of awkward/mechanical, but maybe it can't be helped because it's been so long since I last wrote for Kokichi?

Anyway, here we go! It's almost 3k words (oops) so there's a cut. Icon credit to dreamcrush!

“You’re so persistent.” Kokichi x Ultimate! Celebrity Reader

“You’re so persistent.” You slammed the metal locker door close and glared at Kokichi. “And annoying.”

Kokichi simply shrugged with that same shit-eating grin on his face that he always had.

“Well, maybe you wouldn’t have to deal with the annoying me if you’d just say yes,” he says in that sing-songy voice.

You resist the urge to box his ears and instead turn away, speed-walking toward the classroom. To your dismay, he quickly follows behind you, matching your pace easily and practically skipping. You supposed someone like him burned a lot of energy annoying people and pulling tricks everyday, so this was probably nothing to him.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being rejected?” you glanced at him, genuinely curious.

“Nope!” He folds his arms behind his head leisurely and grins at you. “But I bet you’re getting tired of rejecting me, huh? You really want to say yes, don’t you? Huh?”

“I’m not even going to answer that,” you sighed.

Kokichi made a face of shock, mouth and deep purple eyes wide in a way that could only be described as overexaggerated and purely for dramatic effect.

“But you just did!”

You suppressed an exasperated sigh and looked away from Kokichi, who was strolling next to you without a care in the world. He’d even started to whistle some annoying little tune that sounded suspiciously like the tune that had recently gone viral for being one of the worst earworms ever.

Kokichi had been asking for your autograph for the past month since the fall semester of Hope’s Peak Academy had formally started and the two of you had met in-class for the first time.

“Ultimate Celebrity, huh?!” he’d exclaimed, eyes comically wide and sparkly. “Does that mean you get to be an Ultimate for just existing? Do you even have to do anything? How is that even a talent, huh?”

Kaede interjected with her hands on her hips.

“Hey, don’t make fun! You know, they’re an Ultimate for a reason,” she huffed. “Look at that face! That style! The stuff that they use gets sold out within minutes, and the places they go get so popular they only take reservations for months after!”

To be fair, you tried to stop Kaede. Tried and failed.

“It’s okay, Kaede-” you put a hand on her shoulder gently, only for her to not even notice.

“Do you even know how much one of their autographs goes for? It can go for a million yen!” she burst.

It was then that a chill ran down your spine as you watched Kokichi’s face flash from that of a naive and playful prankster to a calculative one worthy of being called the Ultimate Supreme Leader–whatever that bogus-sounding talent was. Actually, how dare he question your talent when he had a suspicious talent like that?

“Oho, is that so?” he smiled and tapped a finger to his lips, seemingly in thought. You didn’t know what he was thinking, but you did know that whatever it was, you didn’t like it at all.

You gave the door to the classroom a furtive look.

“Okay, well, if that’s all, I’m going to go to the bathroom now- Eek!”

Kokichi had made his way to the door before you and was somehow effectively blocking your exit route with both palms pressed on either side of the door frame, even with his slight frame. Not only that, but he was currently making one of the most horrifying faces you’d ever seen on anyone, and you’d seen a lot of terrible things in the entertainment industry.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he smirked. Whatever that black pit of a face was, his eyes were two black holes in that pit. And, his mouth was stretched unnaturally wide in what could only be called an evil smile. “Hand it over.” He held out a hand, and you stared at his empty hand, simply appalled.

You’d faced plenty of terrors and challenges as the Ultimate Celebrity, from surprise paparazzis at night to stalker-fans trying to break into your apartment, but you had to say that this was your first time being extorted for an autograph–not even asked, but threatened.

You crossed your arms and gave him a dirty look.

“No. Now step aside.”

You couldn’t imagine that he’d keep blocking the doorway forever, especially since from the corner of your eye, you could see Kaito walking toward the classroom from the hallway.

He slinked to the side surprisingly easily, making a disappointed puppy-dog face.

“Aww, you’re no fun. It’s just an autograph, you know?”

You slid past him and made a beeline to the bathroom, which he thankfully did not follow you to–but you did feel his eyes on you until you disappeared from his line of sight. You’d think you’d have gotten used to being watched, being the Ultimate Celebrity, but somehow, this felt different.

Fast-forward to today, about a month into the semester, and he hadn’t failed to pester you for an autograph every single day, although he luckily spent some of his time playing with (irritating?) your other classmates, too.

“Keeboi, robots don’t have nipples, do they?” Some clanking noises came from the other side of the classroom, which you desperately hoped wasn’t Kokichi touching Kiibo.

“This is harassment! I must ask that you cease and desist at once–no, seriously, stop, Kokichi!”

You winced but opted to remain a bystander. Getting involved ultimately meant offering yourself as the sacrificial target for Kokichi’s tricks and attention. ‘Sorry, Kiibo,’ you thought sympathetically.

But unfortunately for you, Kokichi must have quickly gotten bored with Kiibo, because not even ten minutes later, he was at your side again. To be exact, he was sitting across from you at the desk in front of yours, hands holding onto the backrest of the chair.

“Come on, just one little autograph,” he begged with those big, gleaming eyes. Man, since when did being an Ultimate Supreme Leader involve having incredible acting abilities? Because otherwise, how could he look so pitiful and sad? Like a cat left in the pouring rain, sitting in a rotting cardboard box, waiting for a kind owner–

You averted your eyes. It would be fine if you didn’t look at him, you desperately thought to yourself.

“I’m not giving an autograph to any classmates,” you state. “We’re all Ultimates and more or less equal, so I’m not going to give a fellow Ultimate an autograph. Plus, you think I don’t know you’re just going to go and auction it off?” You turned and stared him down with the last sentence.

“Nishishi, you got me there!” he laughed, but he didn’t seem surprised or offended. “Why don’t you do your classmate a little favor, then? You gave one to Nagito!”

You huffed and pursed your lips.

“I said no, Kokichi! And it’s different if it’s a fan,” you argued. “Nagito was already a fan because he loves Ultimates. Plus, he’s our upperclassman!”

Kokichi put a hand to his chin in thought.

“So it’s different if it’s a fan, huh? Okay, got it! I’ll be your fan, so give me an autograph!” he cheers.

“No, Kokichi! Were you even listening to me?”

He didn’t reply immediately for once, just watched you in an unsettling way. He even started twirling a strand of hair around his finger as he looked at you, and you started to feel self-conscious. You thought you’d gotten used to being watched, but yet again, it felt different coming from him.

“Hmm, I guess I wasn’t… Well, if you won’t give me your autograph, then I want something else!”

“What is it, now?”

You sighed and rested your cheek on your hand, propping your elbow up on the desk and preparing yourself for whatever other ridiculous demand he’d come out with next.

“Give me your heart!”

You almost fall out of your chair and scramble to hold onto the desk for dear life before incredulously staring at him. You could feel your face heating up, but you were sure it was just because he’d said something so unbelievably absurd.

“What did you say?”

“I said, give me your heart,” Kokichi enunciated with a smile. “Do you need hearing aids? How come you didn’t hear it the first time?” His eyes reflected obsequious concern, and you frowned.

“I heard you the first time! I just thought I heard wrong because you said something so– so weird. You know, your habit of lying and playing around with other people is going to get you in serious trouble someday.”

Kokichi held up a hand and started examining his nails, shrugging.

“I was being serious, though? This time, at least.”

You stared at him, unable to discern his true intentions or motives.

“Kokichi, I–you’re just pulling my leg, right? Because if so, it’s not funny…” you trailed off, not sure what to even make of the current situation. On the off chance that he was being serious, you didn’t want to be dismissive, but after the past month of being teased and watching him trick and lie to other people like it was nothing, you couldn’t just take his words at face value. Especially when he said it so offhandedly.

Kokichi clenched his fists and pouted, puffing up his pale cheeks.

“Hey, don’t make me repeat myself! I tell the truth once in a while, you know! Don’t tell me you don’t believe me after I told you I was telling the truth already!”

You blinked slowly, feeling your cheeks reddening.

“Uh, then… What do you even mean by, ‘give me your heart?’ You want to date?”

“No, silly,” he stuck his tongue out at you and rolled his eyes. “I want you to fall in love with me, duh! Come on, are you really so boring that you can’t even understand a figure of speech?”

“I just didn’t expect it from you,” you quietly muttered.

How did you feel about him, anyway? The past month suddenly felt like a blur–what had you even done the past month? You couldn’t quite remember, but whatever it was, it definitely felt like it was all memories filled with Kokichi’s presence, as infuriating as he could be sometimes.

Then again, you knew he never truly meant any harm, and overall, you considered him–a classmate? No, that felt wrong after all the time you’d spent together for such a short span of a month.

A friend. That felt so much more right, suited your relationships so much better.

You paused.

“Wait a minute! You never even said that you liked me or anything. You just told me to fall in love with you!” you said, affronted by the realization.

“Oops, you got me!” Kokichi snickered. “Well, if you insist, though I’m sure you get plenty of proclamations of love everyday as the Ultimate Celebrity.”

He pulled out a flower from behind his back and thrusted it toward you with a big, innocent smile on his face. “I like you!”

You facepalmed but plucked the flower from his hand begrudgingly.

“Somehow, that felt so disingenuous,” you complained. “Like it was just an afterthought. And you wondered why I didn’t believe you.”

Kokichi poked your cheek, which had puffed a little without you even realizing.

“Hey, don’t be so pessimistic after I told you I liked you! How can you have so many complaints about the Ultimate Supreme Leader liking you, huh? It should be your honor! A snap of my fingers, and I can have my thousands of underlings kneeling before you in seconds,” he boasted.

You gave him a look–you could just about see his nose growing longer for every lie coming out of his mouth.

“I doubt you have thousands of underlings,” you sighed. “Plus, this was so anticlimactic. I’m still pretty sure you just want to get my autograph.”

Kokichi put a finger to his chin, thinking hard–or hardly thinking, it was always hard to tell with someone like him.

“Well, do you need me to prove it? I’ll say I like you a thousand times! Here, why don’t I start now?” He opened his mouth wide and started chanting, “I like you, I like you, I like you, I like you, I like-”

You hastily slapped a hand over his mouth and fearfully glanced around the classroom. Luckily, everyone else was busy with their own conversations during lunchtime.

“Stop that, you’re going to get everyone’s attention!” you grumbled.

“Oh?” he chuckled as he pulled your hand from his mouth, and a look of delighted mischief sparkled in his eyes–a look, you now realize, of trouble. “You know what an even better way to get everyone’s attention is? Watch this!”

And then, he leaned in and pressed his soft, pale lips to yours–but they were gone so soon, no sooner than you had realized they’d even touched you at all, too soon, in fact. You sat there in shock, face rapidly heating up; you were melting like butter in a hot pan, like ice under the summer sun, and you had no idea how to cope.

Slowly, you brought your fingers to your lips, still staring at Kokichi, who had the smuggest little smile on his face.

“You-!”

“Did you like it? Should I kiss you again?” he licked his lips, smirking. “Here, hold still-”

But before he could do anything else, he was interrupted by Kaito, who had grabbed onto his shoulders firmly with an uncontrollable blush on his face. Kaito could barely even look at you, instead fiercely glaring at Kokichi.

“What are you doing to them?! You didn’t even ask, and you’re in the damn classroom, Kokichi! Our entire class just saw that!”

Kokichi stuck his tongue out at Kaito, struggling against Kaito’s hold on him.

“Yeah, and who cares? They didn’t say they didn’t like it. Right, [Name]?” He paused and waved his hand in front of your dazed face. “Hellooooo, Earth to [Name]?”

You shook your head rapidly, trying to come back to your senses. Of all the things to happen today, you hadn’t expected to be kissed by Kokichi Ouma. Maybe just another plea for an autograph, and maybe a prank or two, but a kiss? And not only that, but you hadn’t expected yourself to like it so much. Or like him so much.

“No, I…” Still thoroughly startled, you glanced away, still blushing, only to notice that the entire class was practically staring at the two of you (and Kaito, now that he’d tried to intervene). Tenko had put her hands up over her eyes, except she’d parted her fingers, so she wasn’t actually blocking anything from sight as she blushed furiously. Meanwhile, Shuichi had dropped his egg roll onto his desk, and Gonta was trying to ask Miu what kissing was and what it meant. Angie was watching with fervent interest, and Maki seemed shocked you’d let him kiss you to begin with, judging by the murderous expression on her face.

To hell with it, you decided. Let them watch. Most of your life as the Ultimate Celebrity was already watched, anyway. What was one more thing?

“It’s my turn now,” you grinned. Kaito let go of him, seeming to notice the tension in the air. “Don’t move.”

You leaned over the desk and with a finger, tilted his chin up toward you, watching the Adam’s apple of his slender neck bob nervously.

You leaned in and pressed your lips to his, not just once, not just twice, but three times. When you finally let go of him, you had the pleasure of seeing a thoroughly and truly bewildered look on his face for once; his eyes were blank, as if trying to process what had just happened, and a generous amount of pink had painted itself over his usually pale cheeks.

Kaito gave a wolf whistle and clapped, while the others started murmuring to each other.

“Nyeh… Is this the power of the Ultimate Celebrity?” Himiko uttered in surprise. “Truly magic to be wary of…”

“It’s not m-magic,” Tenko stuttered and flusteredly pointed at you. “It’s, it’s sorcery! They made Kokichi shut up for once in his life!”

“No, no, this surely must be a divine act bestowed by Atua,” Angie crowed.

“Did we want Kokichi to shut up that badly…?” Shuichi asks tentatively.

“Yes.” Maki stabbed her pickled plum with scary precision. “Yes, we did.”

Kaede tried to assuage everyone’s complaints.

“Now, he’s not that bad…”

“Well, I’m glad that pipsqueak shut up for once!” Miu exclaimed.

“Yes, he’s an absolute menace,” Korekiyo agreed.

But the quiet Kokichi didn’t last for long–or at least, not as long as some of them hoped it would. He swiftly leapt up from his seat and pulled you up, too, before hug-attacking you.

“Wow, I didn’t know you had it in you! From now on, you have to kiss me everyday,” he declared proudly. “And if you skimp, you have to give me an autograph!”

You pat him on the head, chuckling–his hair was so soft, you absent-mindedly thought to yourself.

“Again with the autograph. You really are persistent,” you laughed.

He pulled back for a moment and sweetly stared into your eyes.

“But that’s what you like about me so much, right? Nishishi!”

“Yeah, yeah,” you shrugged, but you could feel your cheeks warming up again.

Kokichi leaned in close, the breath from his mouth tickling your ear.

“Just between you and me, though, I’d take your kisses over your autograph any day, so don’t forget~”

#kokichi ouma #kokichi ouma x reader #reader insert #ndrv3 #danganronpa #new danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 #kokichi x ultimate celebrity reader #x reader #requested #writing #lux writes #prompted #requests open #luxexhomines #maybe i need to re-engage my love for the danganronpa characters more deeply #bc idk it just felt like i was writing this without much soul (?) if that makes any sense #or maybe its my imaginative abilities that need more power??#anyway i tried my best tho!! i tried to do some research #by which i mean i tried to see how other people wrote imagines & i checked my old kokichi writing #maybe next time i should check ao3 for inspo #i actually think this was too long #oftentimes short and sweet is better #but oh well #i just did a little bit of editing & wrote the bulk of this yesterday #anyway time for me to shut up i hope you are doing well tho!!!!#ALSO wait i forgot to say i did have fun #it was a bit of a struggle but it was fun hehe so thank you :3

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