you can find me in ff.net, ao3, and occasionally on my dA (which i’m debating if i should delete or not lol)
Warning: I mostly write angst. There is no guaranteed happy ending, because life decides if you should get it or not. Also, and sorry to disappoint, but I write hetero fics. All my reader-insert fics are from a female’s perspective.
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the plot. All characters from the series below belong to their respective owners and were borrowed only for fanfiction purposes. I also DO NOT USE AI in making my fics, they were all made by my blood, sweat, and tears. I also do NOT allow my works to be generated by AI. Go fuck yourselves if you do.」
「 STATUS: semi-hiatus, busy trying to find ideas, crocheting, playing video games, and surviving the trivialities life throws at me.」
lame (series)
be careful what you wish for (one-shot)
sunshine in your smile (series)
bad girl (one-shot)
(un)loving miya atsumu (series)
➾ forever person epiphanies
➾ you’re my sunflower (zombie au)
Random texts 1 2
most unlikely (one-shot)
➾ heart and soul (and perfectly made madame croques) (drabble)
➾ onigiri and his umeboshi (social media au) 1 2
➾ umeboshi and her onigiri (drabble)
➾ first time (drabble)
outsider looking in (one-shot)
➾ too much of a good thing (smut)
➾ polaroids (drabble)
➾ the one with suna’s sister (social media au) 1 2
➾ ink-stained confessions
enigmatic kalopsia (one-shot)
➾ hiding and seeking (i’ll take what i can get) [direct sequel]
Normalize leaving unhinged comments on ao3 fics you like. I'm tired of being the only one brave enough to write "I am chewing on this fic" in the comment section. Be weird. Authors will love you for it
SUMMARY: Blame the Unbirthday revelry, the spiked punch, the swirl of sweets and music. Blame your own daring, if you must—
But you can’t blame fate when you find yourself tangled in the sheets of the one you secretly longed for all along.
CHARACTERS: Trey Clover / Leona Kingscholar / Jade Leech / Jamil Viper / Idia Shroud / Silver x F!Yuu (Reader) 50% chance to a have a few new characters at the end
TAGS: Spicy, a bit of smut, sugar coating fluff, sloppy and a bit of crack, drunk sex.
WARNING: porn with plot, nudity, unprotected sex (always wrap it up!!), oral fixation, oral sex (reciving and giving), fingering, mild gagging, mild dirty talk, pet names, lost of virginity.
COMMENTS: All characters are +18 Part two here - Part three here
Divider @enchanthings
Unbirthday parties at NRC always follow the rules—the oh-so-“questionable” rules of Heartslabyul—but for some reason, whether it’s the music or the sheer number of another dorms guests, the tension released after finals, or maybe just the chaos of other dorms sharing food, sweets, and drinks right in Riddle’s territory, this party doesn’t even feel… unusual anymore.
Maybe it’s also the fact that Ace is way too quiet in the corner, hunched over himself, trying (and failing) to hide a rather large vial in his hand. You know that when Ace has that mischievous smile and not a shred of remorse in sight, nothing good can come out of the redhead; and this occasion won’t be an exception. Especially not after you saw him pour that very vial into the punch bowl.
“Trappola tradition,” you hear him say. It seems his older brother has passed down the baton for the worst prank.
Whatever Ace poured in there, the air gets sweeter, tinged with a rainbow of colors, with that feeling you get when you finally come of age and know exactly what you want and desire, and that hint of something not entirely legal for a school campus.
Someone, probably Floyd, starts chanting, “Chug! Chug! Chug!” and Epel’s already on his second drink, trying to prove he can handle alcohol better than anyone. Grim, meanwhile, is busy fishing out slices of floating fruit, muttering about the injustice of being banned from the dessert table.
Riddle tries to keep his composure, doing his best not to think about the countless rules being broken in his own lounge, but the blush on his cheeks and the way he wobbles from side to side give him away—he’s not immune to the spirit of the party… and maybe he’s already had a taste of the punch.
You try to take it easy, but it’s hard when everyone keeps handing you drinks, plates of fruit, little candies with mysterious fillings. The world feels slow and slippery, like honey running through your veins, and suddenly you’re part of a tightly packed crowd in the lounge, shoulders pressed together, glasses raised, clinking them to the beat of a song nobody quite remembers the words to.
You catch Ruggie stuffing three types of chocolate into his pockets—not before slipping a couple into your hands, though. “Eat up! Or you’ll regret it tomorrow.” Kalim drags you onto the dance floor, his laughter easy, his hands never still, bracelets jingling as he spins you through the crowd.
The drinks get sweeter, the candies and fruits stronger. You lose track of how much you’ve had after the third glass. Laughter floats in the air, yours mixing with theirs.
You remember Vil’s perfume enveloping you as his knuckles brush along your cheek, making you shiver. “Having fun, darling?”
You just nod before walking to the other side of the room to separate Ace and Deuce—apparently both are on the verge of causing nuclear disaster in the middle of the lounge over who can fit more marshmallows in their mouth. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Leona sprawling even lazier than usual across the sofa, and Malleus… well, laughing and making the air tremble a little.
Everything that came after you remember in lazy waves: laughter blooming warm in your chest, the tickle of someone’s breath on your ear; someone tucking a wildflower behind your ear—was it a white or red rose? It doesn’t matter, 'cause seconds later someone else snatches it away with their teeth and a grin that’s barely even trying to be subtle.
The music pounds in your ears until, at some point, everything settles and you’re wrapped in silence. You remember flashes in that quiet: lips tasting of chocolate pressed to yours, teeth biting your throat, hands brushing your skin under your clothes, laughter melting into moans.
Your hands are everywhere, entwined with someone else’s, tangled in soft strands of hair, clutching a shirt as you fumble with the buttons, at a belt, at the bedsheets, everything is heat, color, and taste. The world tilts and spins and you let go, trusting in the madness of it all, in the hands gripping your waist, in the mouth claiming you, in that lovely sensation of being wanted, claimed, and utterly ruined all at once and in every possible way.
When you finally wake up, the light is all wrong and comes in without asking permission, your thighs feel heavy and there’s that pleasant tingle between them, something itches at your neck, and you’ve got hair in your face.
Your head hurts—no, scratch that, your head is pounding and trying to open your eyes is a very bad idea right now. You take a deep breath and the pain’s still there, hammering away, demanding you face the day.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
Trey
When you slowly turn your head, you find Trey sleeping on his stomach, one lazy arm under the pillow, hair a mess but annoyingly attractive. You assume his glasses are on his nightstand, the sheets dangerously low over his hips.
His hips… bare.
His chest is bare too.
You look down at your own body and—bingo—you’re naked too.
And these aren’t your sheets, this isn’t your pillow, and obviously, this isn’t your dorm bed.
Holy… fuck.
You try to remember, even with the pounding headache, half mortified, half… half what, exactly? Surprised? Embarrassed? Or just utterly satisfied to have such a god lying next to you?
Flashes hit you without warning: the warmth of Trey’s hand guiding you away from the crowd, his soft laughter by your ear, both of you laughing at some joke only the two of you found funny, stumbling together until you crashed into bed.
The taste of icing and the sweetness of strawberries on Trey’s lips when he kissed you fiercely; did he feed you with his fingers, or did you steal the flavor right from his mouth?
His hands roaming every inch of you, his palms warm; his tongue scandalous, licking you slow and deep, teasing your clit, sliding between your wet folds, holding your hips so you couldn’t escape.
Him straightening up, wiping his mouth with his thumb, looking you right in the eyes.
You felt the tip of his cock pressing against your wet pussy, sliding in slowly, panting against your lips, deep strokes, but completely sensual.
“You like how I fill you up, right? You’re so wet, so beautiful,” he’d murmured against your ear, holding one of your legs up over his shoulder to push even deeper.
The way he held both your legs over his shoulders, folding you in half, thrusting over and over, deep, hitting your sweet spot, probably making you scream.
Trey’s name on your lips when he made you cum, slipping two fingers inside you to stretch you even more while his cock was still buried deep.
The moment he held you after it was all over, the fingers of one hand tangled in your hair and the other lazily drawing circles on your back.
Trey shifts, stretching and opening one eye, still half-asleep. He gives you a small, crooked smile when he sees you—serene… and breath taking.
“Good morning.”
Goddamn, even his voice is too sexy...add that rough, low tone and you’re already wet again.
“Did you sleep well? Headache?”
Is it that obvious?
“Uh… yeah, yeah, a little.”
Trey sits up and the sheets slide dangerously lower, lower, on his hips. You try not to look… but fail.
Obviously you fail, who are we kidding? The view of this man’s torso alone is enough to make you start drooling. Those strong arms from all that kneading, the abs, the broad shoulders, and…
Marks?
He has marks on his neck?
Some are obviously hickeys… others look like the start of scratches that trail down his back.
You bite your lip, desperate to look at his back, to see the scratches you obviously left, and see how strong his muscles are there.
“Did we…?” It’s a dumb question—you obviously had sex—but you need to hear it from him.
“Yup… several times, actually.”
The heat that rushes to your cheeks is uncontrollable, almost the same shade of red as his bed curtains.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
“Are you regretting it?”
Please, this man can’t be any sweeter or he’d cause diabetes.
Trey kisses your temple when he realizes there’s not even a hint of regret, or fear, or doubt.
Then, he gets up and starts looking for something to wear before going to get breakfast.
OH MY GOD THAT BODY!!!
And the scratch marks from your nails down his back, and his ass… and his cock, half-hard.
Trey notices you’re basically devouring him with your eyes… “Do you want breakfast, or do you want me to jog your memory with another round?”
He winks at you before pulling on his glasses, boxers and uniform pants and leaving the room to get you something to eat and something for your hangover.
Ah… you could die peacefully in that bed.
Leona
It’s the heat that you notice first—something heavy and solid pressing against you from behind, half-sprawled over your side, as if you were a possession. His possession
Your nose fills with a musky, warm, spiced scent, with hints of something… wild. It’s accompanied by the soft, steady sound of breathing.
You try to open your eyes, but the light only makes things worse, so you’re forced to rely on your other instincts and sensations.
You feel something wrapping around your leg, something soft, moving, tickling you lightly with part of its fur.
Wait… fur?
Is he holding you with a tail?
A TAIL?!
You force one eye open and the first thing you see, in all its glorious splendor, is Leona’s bare chest pressed against your back, one arm wrapped around your stomach.
You follow the line of that arm and realize you’re naked too…
You lift the sheets. Yep. Very naked.
Your skin tingles and your hips ache, your thighs feel like jelly, clear evidence that the bed wasn’t used just for sleeping.
You try to move, but Leona’s arm is like an iron bar, stopping you from even sitting up, his fingers tightening possessively on your hip. A shiver runs down your spine when you feel his tail slide upward, his ears twitch.
“Going somewhere, little mouse?” His voice is deep and rough right by your ear.
You turn your head and meet the lion’s wide green eyes, far too awake for this early in the morning. He gives you a half-smile, one fang showing, dangerously smug and a little arrogant… well, very arrogant.
That look is unmistakably that of a predator about to pounce on its prey.
You pull the sheets up to cover yourself a bit more, as if there were any way to hide a nakedness that had clearly already been explored hours ago for… quite a while.
“What happened last night?” Your mind is racing and your heart feels like it’s about to leap out of your chest.
Leona growls softly, though he doesn’t seem to care in the slightest that you’re covering your “modesty.”
“After how loud you were all night, I figured you’d remember at least something.”
Your face goes nuclear red. You clutch the sheet tighter, but it’s useless. You’re in his bed, in his territory.
“Did we… sleep together?”
“Sleep?” You hear a low, amused scoff from his chest. “Oh, we did more than sleep… want me to remind you?”
He doesn’t need to. Your body does it for him.
Not only do you feel the dampness between your thighs, but there are bite marks along them, already starting to bruise, traitors that reveal just how intimate last night was.
You can feel a few on your neck and collarbone too; they don’t hurt, but you know they’re going to be bright red well into the morning.
Your own memories begin to surface: your hands in his hair as you both devoured each other’s mouths in the hallway, his low, rough voice murmuring when he finally pulled back, “Do you want me to take you to my bed, or do you want me to wreck you right here in the hallway?”
His lips moving from your shoulder down to your breasts, massaging one with his large palm while he trapped your nipple between his lips, licking it and making you arch your back.
“Say my name, again. Do it again” every time you moaned with each thrust. Your face buried in the pillow while he took you from behind, relentless and unhurried, panting heavily over you.
His hands roaming your entire body, strong, confident, taking what he wanted without asking; his teeth grazing your neck. Was it just one bite he left, or several?
His name on your lips every time he made you cum, even when he was nowhere near finishing himself. Pride mixing with hunger as he felt you clench those soft walls around his cock.
The boldness in your voice when you begged for more and more. “Please, harder… harder, Leona” How could he possibly say no?
You remember being on top of him, legs spread wide as you rode him desperately, thighs shaking; him leaning back, hands behind his head, enjoying his private show.
His strong hands on your ass, “helping” you move faster, impaling you with every thrust.
Leona coming inside you, holding you tight against him. “That’s it, little mouse, fill yourself up with me”
“You were wild—I barely managed to get your clothes off,” Leona pulls you out of your thoughts as he props himself up on one arm without a hint of shame, his body fully on display.
“Not that I’m complaining. You were pretty insistent when you rode me and asked for a second round. And a third.”
You let out a small squeak and cover your face with both hands. “Please, stop.”
Leona straightens and takes your hands in his, pinning them above your head against the pillow; he flips you onto your back with ridiculous ease, looming over you with a feral grin. You’re caged, completely at his mercy.
And gods, his body lit by the morning sunlight is far too delicious.
“You look incredibly tempting.” His gaze roams over your face and body, barely covered by the sheets.
He gives your shoulder a small bite and laughs when you let out a little yelp. “Want another round? Or breakfast so you don’t pass out on top of me?”
You glare at him, cheeks burning; you want to strangle him. Or kiss him. Possibly both.
“Breakfast… then we’ll see.”
He pecks your lips softly. “Good girl.” And then he gets out of bed without the slightest bit of modesty, tail swaying, letting you admire the scratch marks trailing down his back.
Jade
Why does the silence feel like you’ve been swallowed by the sea?
And why does it smell like seawater? And sea salt?
The room is so dim that the few rays of light filtering through the curtains make strange patterns on the bed.
And it’s a kind of dimness you haven’t seen in Ramshackle for a long time… which means, this is not your room.
Everything hurts; your throat is raw, your lips are swollen, your body heavy, like something squeezed you until there was nothing left.
You try to move but there’s a hand on your belly, a thumb lazily drawing small circles on your bare skin.
Bare skin…
BARE SKIN?!?!
You sit up—and it’s a very bad idea. The hangover slams into your head and you bring your hand up to your temple.
“Ah… looks like you’ve got a hangover, and considering how eager you were last night…”
You turn your head to find Jade’s smile—small and polite, but absolutely terrifying.
“Does my pearl need something to make her morning… more productive?”
“Jade…” your voice comes out hoarse and rough, and you cough, trying to clear the discomfort.
“Ah, I warned you I might wear you out. Seems I was right, hm?”
The memories hit you so hard they make your headache worse:
Jade pulling you away from the party, an astute glint in his eyes and his voice serene yet venomous, coaxing you into the comfort of his room—his bed.
His hands stripping away every piece of clothing until you stood naked before him, his fingers mapping your sensitive skin, anticipating every tremor, seeking out what made you sigh, moan, or arch.
Your boldness as you made him sit and you knelt in front of him, your lips around his cock, trying to take him deeper and deeper. His praises made your pussy wet and made you want to do better, his hands in your hair guiding you, helping you choke on him.
Your eyes brimming with tears when you looked up and saw him smiling, pleased, fingers caressing your cheek before plunging you into a fast, unkind rhythm, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.
Your own mouth screaming in pleasure as he took you from behind, you on all fours on the bed, ass up, completely at the mercy of his hands and hips.
“Come on, little pearl, cum for me” the authority in his voice, impossible to resist, every word a praise tangled with a command.
Your climax hitting so hard it left you sprawled on the bed; Jade grabbing your head so you couldn’t move, your screams muffled by the pillow as he found a better angle to fuck you, making you cum again.
The taste of his cum when he made you take him back into your mouth and spill inside.
You swallow, trying to speak, but all that comes out is a shaky, ruined, “holy shit”
He runs his thumb over your hip bone, where the bruise from his grip is already fading… only to grab you there again, just as hard as you barely remember.
“Overwhelmed, maybe? Though I must say… you were so hungry for me you nearly made me mistake you for a predator.”
Jade sits up and the sheets slide even lower on his hips. He’s so tall it feels like he could cover you completely. He admires the bites and marks he left all over your chest, shoulders, and neck.
You’re his own personal canvas, and the fact that there are still places left unmarked… it’s intoxicating to him.
He pushes you back, slipping between your legs again, hands running along your sides before gripping your thighs and positioning them around his hips.
“Dare to tell me you regret it, little one.” When you shake your head, terrified but just as aroused, he adjusts your legs around his hips, letting you feel how half-hard and hungry for you he still is.
“Excellent,” he kisses the tip of your nose before rolling his hips, brushing against your clit. “So, do you want another round or some tea for that poor throat?”
You shiver, completely lost to his movements and the pleasure slowly building inside you.
“I won’t let you surface just yet, my pearl”
Jamil
For a few blissful seconds you think you’re safe in your own bed, within the walls of Ramshackle… until the scent of countless spices fills the air. Clove, cinnamon, something deep and intoxicating, spicy.
Yeah… you’re not in Ramshackle.
Is it wise to open your eyes with the sunlight filtering in through the window? Unfortunately, you’ll have to.
Eyes open and a hammering headache, you recognize the décor: elegant, gold details, Arabic architecture… Looks like you ended up in Scarabia.
Okay, one problem solved; now… who’s breathing against your neck, slow and steady?
You turn just enough to see the mess of dark tousled hair belonging to Jamil, splayed across the sheets and pillow. He’s on his stomach, facing you, eyes closed but with a small smile on his lips; his arm stretched out across your hips, giving you slow, gentle caresses.
You blink—once, twice, three times.
One more, just to give your brain a chance to process that his torso is bare and the sheets are dangerously low.
You freeze, memories hitting you in dizzying flashes through your hangover: his eyes shining in the half-light, pinning you with his gaze from across the lounge, like he was drawing you to him with nothing but his eyes.
Your body pressed to his while he whispered something in your ear that had nothing to do with the party, but still made your cheeks flush… more than they already were from the punch.
His hands, so careful with everything he handles, guiding you into a different kind of dance—one that didn’t need music or an audience; your laughter mixing with his before finding your lips, his mouth hungry.
The taste of spicy spices, and a hint of mint, with every kiss and stroke of his tongue across your skin, intoxicating and making you shiver.
Jamil kneeling at the edge of the bed, grabbing your feet and pulling you toward the edge so he could run his tongue along your soaked folds and slip it inside. Sucking on your clit until you were shaking.
The cry of his name when he made you cum with his fingers inside, curved and massaging your most sensitive spot.
His voice in your ear, soft but commanding, ordering, “Look at me, habibti” every word coaxing you closer to the edge. Sharp images of your wrists pinned above your head by his hands, of how he made you arch for him, Jamil’s long hair falling over your face as he watched you from above, his pupils blown wide and a bead of sweat trailing down his neck.
Your legs shaking, the pressure of his hand on your throat while he pounded into you again and again, his hips driving hard, his abs rubbing against your belly; his movements calculated, slow when you were desperate, brutal when you begged.
You let out a whimper, and that’s when Jamil opens his eyes. He blinks, then his gaze sharpens, lazy and sly.
“Morning”
Your mouth is dry, cheeks blazing. “Oh my Sevens… what happened last night?”
Jamil kisses your shoulder, moving up to your collarbone, your neck, up to your jaw before giving you a little bite.
“You don’t remember anything?”
“Fr-fragments.”
You feel his hand sliding down your thigh… and realize you’re also naked under the sheets.
Okay, yep, we fucked… got it.
“You were bold. Even eager.”
His hand slides up, up, reaching the wetness between your legs. Your skin lights up and a jolt runs down your spine.
“I regret not doing this sooner,” is all he says before claiming your lips again, his fingers slipping inside.
You moan into his mouth, biting his lower lip, heart stumbling—but all you care about is melting in Jamil’s arms.
“Let me take care of you, habibti,” he murmurs, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “I’ll make you forget about your hangover”
And when Jamil pulls you back under the sheets, you’re pretty sure you don’t want to remember anything but this.
Idia
The silence in the room is so intense it feels like you can hear your own breathing and heartbeat.
The first thing you notice is that the bed feels… off—not the pseudo-comfort you remember from your bed in Ramshackle.
Second, your head is about to explode; third, you’re naked and there’s a chill in the air, as if warmth doesn’t exist, making every hair on your body stand on end.
You crack one eye open, grateful that the blue light is diffuse and not too harsh, though it still hurts to look at.
Blue light… you turn your head and see a glowing skull. On the other side, way too many monitors crammed onto a single desk, one of those screens has thirty code windows open.
You bolt upright when you realize you’re not just in Idia’s room… you’re completely naked in Idia’s room.
There’s a groan beside you, the creak of bedsheets, and movement.
You turn around; a chaos of blue hair, pale bare shoulders, and a pair of yellow glowing eyes blinking at you from behind a curtain of messy hair.
Idia stares at you, mouth open, emitting a high-pitched, static-like whine; the ends of his blue hair turning pink, then pure red from embarrassment.
There’s a sound like a computer blue-screening right before Idia lets out a strangled squeak, scrambling backwards to put distance between you...then promptly falls off the bed with a loud crash.
“HOLY SHIT, IDIA!! ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”
“N-NO!! I’M NOT OKAY!! Wh-what did we do last night? Ohgodoh godohgodohgod—”
Idia grabs a pillow, but no matter how hard he tries, he’s bigger and taller than it.
He’s about to combust
“I died last night and on my way to the dorm something hit my head and I died again, and got isekai’d to some forbidden erotic world…”
You reach over and pinch his arm hard to bring him back to reality. “Ow!”
“This is real, Idia! We actually had sex!”
Heat rushes up your neck as flashes of last night come back: your hands on his, surprisingly warm, pulling him close to you in the middle of the party. Shy smiles, nervous giggles.
Idia’s inexperienced lips on your neck, his hands awkwardly squeezing your hips until you taught him how to hold you right.
His monotone voice now a whisper, full of need and want, “Are you sure? I-I’ve never—” and yours, suddenly bold, telling him you want him now.
The blue fire of his hair lighting up the darkness of his room and the naked skin of you both; the nervous way he looked at you and touched you, learning with every move of your hands over his on your hips, your breasts.
His eyes going wide as you guided his fingers to your clit and whispered in his ear how wet you were for him; his long, slender fingers working magic between your folds, barely realizing what he was doing.
Idia stammering as he tried to put on the condom backwards and failed—twice—begging you for help between gasps and awkward laughter. “Why is this so complicated? This… never happens in doujins…”
The exact moment he entered you for the first time, his breath hitching, a sharp, surprised moan as he felt himself inside you—slick and completely ready for him to go deeper, harder; to be entirely his.
Him finishing ‘embarrassingly’ fast (according to him). But all it did was make you want another round, and another, and another.
His lips traveling down your neck and, in a moment of sheer daring and lust, squeezing your breasts together to suck and bite your nipples at the same time, making you arch your back to give him more and more.
The way he moaned your name when you rode him for the first time, desperate not to finish too soon again, but absolutely mesmerized by the sight of your body so free and needy for him.
You taking complete control, hands on his chest, grinding your hips to rub your clit against his pelvis and clench your soft walls around his cock.
Idia groans with embarrassment, interrupting your lascivious memories.
“I-it’s not like… I mean, I’m not complaining or anything, it’s just… this is… max difficulty! Like, y-you’re like a goddess… most beautiful OP character… y-yeah and I—”
“And you’re Idia… was it at least good for you?”
His voice turns to static and he locks eyes with you in a rare burst of confidence.
“Good?! It was… it was overlord level. Uh. You were… really… really—”
Another memory hits: Idia clutching the sheets with every roll of your hips, moaning in time with you. His hands grabbing your hips, squeezing your thighs and holding on to you like his life depended on it.
After a while, still avoiding your gaze, Idia returns to the bed, hiding behind the pillow again. It’s almost cute...
No, it’s very cute. And funny.
You take the pillow away and let him curl up beside you again. For now, both of you log out of reality outside his room and let Idia melt under your touch.
Game over for virginity, am I right?
Silver
You wake up with the weight of an arm draped across your waist and the warmth of a body pressed against your back. The bed is way too comfortable, and your body… way too happy, though aching and with a hangover that could flatten you in the sun.
Little memories float to the surface: lights, very loud music, punch spiked with alcohol, a whirlwind of colors… and something silver blurring your vision.
Silver’s hair between your fingers as you kissed, his eyes—clear and bright—locked on yours in the middle of the chaos, giving you a look that told you both to take this moment somewhere else.
The feel of soft, sweet sheets on your bare skin stops your thoughts in their tracks, making you open your eyes and turn your head to the side.
Girl… you’ve got Silver, completely naked, behind you. His strong, well-trained arm pinning you against his chest.
Ahhhh… his chest; bare, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He’s beautiful in that fairytale way that only storybooks promise.
How can someone, even while asleep, look so utterly tempting?
Why is there a tingling between your legs? And why can’t you feel them? Or rather… why do they feel so wet?
Your heart skips several beats. Holy. Shit.
I slept with Silver. I slept with Silver.
You can’t stop staring at the perfect physique of the man beside you, so muscular, drinking in the view, flashes of the night before returning in blinding white bursts:
Your laughter muffled against his shoulder in the middle of the makeshift dance floor, his voice low but steady whispering sweet things—and something that made your pussy throb, needy and expectant. The warmth of his hand on your waist as he led you to a deserted hallway to devour your mouth right there.
The taste of his lips, sweet and a little shy at first, but no less hungry and full of desire, his tongue sliding into your mouth and both hands gripping your thighs to lift you up and pin you to the wall.
His fingers playing with every button and fold of your clothes, peeling you out of each layer until you were completely exposed for him; the pressure as they slipped inside you and a moan escaped your lips.
His warm, solid body over you, until he sat you on his lap; face to face, your breasts pressed to his chest, your nipples rubbing against his skin as you bounced with each thrust of his hips, his arms holding you tight against him.
Gentle, noble kisses on your cheeks, your shoulders, even your knuckles; kissing you softly, slowly, savoring you and making you feel wanted and loved.
His cock sliding in and out of your dripping pussy with ease, not too fast, not too slow, wanting to set a pace that could last all night.
But your moans and pleas for him to go faster—“More, Silver, please, more”—made it a little difficult.
“I’ll give you everything, beautiful, just hold on tight”
And you did; to his shoulders, his arms, even to the sheets themselves when the pace sped up, laying you down on the bed, your legs thrown over his shoulders, the new angle making you cum again and again and again, so easily it was almost ridiculous.
You feel the tingling intensify down low and you shift.
Silver stirs and blinks awake. A few seconds of confusion before he notices your face, your bare shoulders, the way you’re clutching the sheet… adorable.
“Good morning beautiful”
And he says it with the most natural, gentle tone in the world.
“Are you alright?” he squeezes your waist and pulls you a little closer.
Boom, straight to the heart.
For a moment, he hesitates, thinking maybe… maybe, there’s regret in your eyes, maybe even shame.
Finding none, he gives you a soft kiss on the forehead and settles you against his chest; he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.
“You look so beautiful in the morning, I want to wake up like this every day”
A soft kiss on your cheek, then another on your nose, then one more on your neck.
And, to finish, one slow, sweet kiss on your lips—savoring the promise of more in the future.
“If you want me to stop, just tell me.”
Anticipation shivers under your skin.
“Don’t stop”
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
Ace … and ... Deuce
You wake up with the worst hangover of your life—moving is a lost cause and opening your eyes isn’t even an option. You feel like you might throw up at any second and then just go back to sleep.
There’s a pounding behind your eyes, the kind that makes you swear you’ll never drink punch again… never drink punch that’s been tampered with by Ace; hell, you’ll never go to another party again.
You roll over and two things hit you: first, you’re naked, like, obscenely naked; second, someone is snoring rudely right in your ear.
A sharp flash stabs through your skull. You remember being squished from all sides while dancing, multiple hands on your waist, and two pairs of lips on your neck.
Turning left, you see Ace waking up. Looks like the hangover is killing him too. He grabs his head as he sits up, elbow propped on the mattress, lets out a heavy sigh and tries to open his eyes—and they lock with yours.
God knows how, but this bastardly redhead manages to give you the cockiest, most infuriating grin that makes you want to punch him right in the face.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty”
“Call me that again and I’ll shove your uniform shoe up your ass, Ace.”
Ace just grins wider and lets out a little laugh… followed by a pained groan as he closes his eyes, keeping the pain under control.
You smack his arm to wipe that smile off his face...and realize he’s just as naked as you.
“Ace… what the hell did you do?”
You blush, covering yourself with the sheets as much as you can, actually, even more. All that’s left is to cover your face and you’d be a mummy.
“Aww, don’t make that face, you’re the one who climbed on top of me after the punch.”
“You’re the one who spiked it!!”
“Didn’t hear you complaining when you were begging us for more—”
You smack him on the head with a pillow; your shrieks and his, plus the loud thump of the pillow, echo through the whole room.
“What the fuck… why are you two so noisy?”
Deuce’s voice sounds from behind you, raspy and just as hungover as you two.
You look at him… he looks at you… his eyes travel down to his own equally naked body… Confusion turns to horror, horror into high-pitched groans.
“What happened? What did we do? Why are we naked?!”
Between the throbbing headache and Deuce’s panicking, you try to remember a little more of this… wild rebellious night.
You remember being with the dynamic duo on the dance floor, Ace whispering dirty promises in your ear, Deuce pulling you closer to him. Then both of them trapping you between them.
Their taste—Ace like candy and mischief, Deuce like cinnamon and adrenaline.
The three of you running through Ramshackle’s halls, stumbling, sometimes collapsing in a tangle of laughs, hands, and feet.
The bed—Sevens, the bed. Sheets scattered everywhere; Ace’s mouth on your neck, Deuce’s trembling hands pulling off your clothes, both fighting over who would take off the last piece.
Spoiler: both of them did it with confident hands before lunging for your lips, your breasts, your legs.
Kisses mixed with laughter, limbs tangled, the chemistry between these two as they made you cume; sloppy at first, then more assured.
The pressure of one sliding between your legs, spreading you open and burying himself deep; the other opening your lips to take him in your mouth. Both working as a team, building a rhythm, admiring how your body adapted to being fucked from both ends.
“Look how we’re breaking you, baby. You’re so wet… I could drown in here,” Ace groaning, rough and loud, grabbing your hair and pushing you down on Deuce’s pelvis with every thrust.
“That’s it, pretty, just like that, don’t stop, swallow it all,” Deuce murmuring as his cock slides down your throat, robbing you of breath for a few delicious seconds.
The way they took turns—one in your pussy, the other in your mouth… but you also remember a sharper pressure at your ass.
The moment when they both wanted to be in your wet pussy together; when one pulled out, the other pushed in, stretching you until you screamed their names, rubbing together inside your softest, most sensitive spot.
The moment you didn’t just cum with both their cocks inside, but, thanks to the pressure and the delicious way they filled you...you squirted, soaking the bed, your belly, and probably Ace’s too.
You moaned, screamed, writhed; the boys turned on by seeing you so free, so full of them, Ace twisting your already-sensitive nipples, Deuce running his tongue over your dripping pussy.
Dizzy flashes of being held in the air, legs around Deuce hips, hands and arms held by Ace, your arms wrapped around his waist too. Each of them fucking you from a different end, watching your tits bounce with every thrust; a mess of spit, sweat, tears, and their cum leaking from both your holes.
The three of you collapsed in bed, panting; Deuce’s arm wrapped around your waist, Ace curled around your chest, fondling your extra-sensitive tit in a playful way—until he switched to gentle caresses. Both seeking your warmth and your touch.
Your breath catches with all the memories. The heat rises not just to your cheeks, but a lot, lot lower.
“I’m never drinking your punch ever again,” Deuce growls, holding his head.
“Don’t you wanna know how good we are at sharing this pretty princess?”
Deuce tosses a pillow at him, but with no force, Ace catches it with one hand, laughing.
The redhead just gets cockier, trapping you in his arms, your back pressed to his chest. You feel his lips leaving little kisses on your nape and cheeks.
Deuce, still hungover and dying of embarrassment, scoots in front of you, wrapping you up with one strong… very strong… arm.
Both of them attack you with twice as many kisses.
Your head may be pounding, but at least you’re laughing in the arms of these two idiots.
Ace will never let you be alone. He shows up uninvited when you need someone most, appearing at your door with some flimsy excuse about needing to borrow your notes or complaining that Deuce is being insufferable, but really he just knows.
He knows when the silence gets too heavy, when your smile does not quite reach your eyes, when you are holding yourself together with sheer willpower and nothing else.
He does not ask if you are okay because that would make it real and uncomfortable and way too serious for someone like him to handle gracefully, so instead he sprawls across your bed and complains about everything under the sun until you find yourself arguing back, and somewhere in the familiar rhythm of bickering the tightness in your chest starts to ease.
He is annoying and intrusive and never knows when to shut up, but he also never makes you carry anything alone, never lets you disappear into your own head for too long, never allows the hard days to swallow you whole because he will drag you back out kicking and screaming if he has to, though usually he does it by shoving his phone in your face with some dumb meme or challenging you to a game he knows you will lose just to get that spark back in your eyes.
Deuce remembers everything you say, even the things you mention in passing without thinking twice about them.
Deuce Spade
You could tell him once, months ago, that you like a specific flavor of juice or that a certain song reminds you of home, and he will file it away in his mind like it matters, like every small piece of you is worth remembering.
He shows up with that juice when you are stressed about exams, records that song when he hears it playing somewhere, asks if you want to go to that restaurant you mentioned liking back during orientation week.
It is never a grand gesture and he gets embarrassed when you point it out, turning red and insisting it is not a big deal, that he just happened to remember or it was on his way anyway, but you know better. You know that he listens when you talk, genuinely listens, and that he cares enough to hold onto the little details that make you who you are.
He takes you seriously in a way that feels rare and precious, never dismissing your problems as too small or your feelings as an overreaction, and when you tell him about your day he does not just wait for his turn to talk, he actually wants to know, asking follow-up questions and getting invested in the drama with people he has never even met because it matters to you so it matters to him.
Jack Howl
Jack notices when you are tired before you say anything.
He sees the way you are holding your shoulders, the heaviness in your movements, the slightly dazed look that means you are running on empty and sheer stubbornness, and he does not make a big deal out of it but suddenly he is taking care of the little things you do not have energy for.
He carries your bag without asking, grabs your lunch for you when he gets his own, steers you away from crowded hallways when he can tell you are too worn down to deal with the noise. He does not hover or fuss because that would just make you feel worse, but his presence becomes this steady, reliable thing you can lean on without worry.
He texts you to make sure you ate, reminds you about assignments you might have forgotten, offers to study together because he knows you will actually take breaks if someone else is there to enforce them.
When you try to thank him he gets gruff and uncomfortable about it, insisting he is not doing anything special and you would do the same for him, and maybe that is true but it does not make it matter less. He looks out for you, making sure you are okay even when you are too tired or overwhelmed to take care of yourself properly.
Epel Felmier
Epel defends you when you are not there to defend yourself.
You do not always hear about it but he does not let people talk badly about you, does not let rumors go unchallenged or let anyone make you the butt of their jokes, and he does it even when it would be easier to stay quiet, even when standing up means drawing attention he does not want.
He has spent his whole life being underestimated and forced into boxes that do not fit, so he knows what it feels like when people make assumptions, and he refuses to let anyone do that to you without pushback. He is fiercely loyal in a way that sometimes surprises people who only see the delicate face and the careful manners Vil has drilled into him, but you know better.
You know that he will go to bat for you without hesitation, that your reputation and your feelings matter to him enough to risk getting into trouble, that he considers you worth fighting for.
He also never makes you feel like you owe him for it, never holds it over your head or demands gratitude, because to him that is just what you do for people you care about.
Ortho Shroud
Ortho celebrates your accomplishments no matter how small they are.
You could tell him you finally finished that assignment you were putting off or managed to get out of bed on a hard day or tried something new that scared you, and he lights up like you just told him you won the lottery.
He does not do it in a condescending way, does not treat you like a child who needs participation trophies, but his enthusiasm is so genuine and bright that you cannot help but feel proud of yourself too.
He wants you to recognize your own progress, wants you to see yourself the way he sees you, and he keeps track of your goals and dreams and mentions them later, asking how that thing you were working on is going or if you are still interested in that topic you were researching.
He sends you articles and videos he thinks you will like, tags you in posts that remind him of you, makes playlists based on your current mood because he has learned to read your emotional patterns better than most people could.
He makes you feel seen and valued, makes you feel like your existence brings something good into the world, and his love is this wholehearted, uncomplicated thing that does not demand anything in return except that you let yourself be cared for.
Sebek Zigvolt
Sebek holds you to a higher standard because he believes you can meet it.
He does not coddle you or pretend your mistakes do not exist, and while that might sound harsh it actually means he takes you seriously as a person, sees your potential and refuses to let you sell yourself short.
He gets frustrated when you talk badly about yourself because he genuinely does not understand why you cannot see what he sees, why you insist on diminishing your own abilities when you are clearly capable of so much more.
He pushes you to try harder, do better, be more, but he also notices when you succeed and acknowledges it in his own loud, over-the-top way that somehow always makes you feel like you actually accomplished something worthwhile.
He does not compare you to anyone else because his standards for you are yours alone, based on what he knows you can do rather than arbitrary measures of what others have done.
When you are struggling he does not tell you to give up or lower your expectations, he tells you to keep going, offers to help you practice or study or train, sits with you through the difficult parts because he has faith that you will get through them.
His belief in you is absolute and unwavering, and on the days when you do not believe in yourself that certainty becomes something you can borrow until you find your own again.
Grim
Grim shares his food with you, and for a cat monster who treats every meal like it might be his last, that means everything.
He will complain about it, will make a big show of how generous he is being and how you better appreciate this, but he always makes sure you eat, pushing portions of his lunch toward you or "accidentally" ordering too much and insisting you help him finish it.
He curls up next to you when you are sad, his warm weight settling against your side or in your lap. He does not ask what is wrong because he does not need to know the details to know that you need comfort, and his presence becomes this grounding thing, something alive and real and dependent on you in a way that makes it harder to spiral into dark thoughts.
He talks about the future like you will obviously be there, makes plans that include you without question, assumes your continued presence in his life as a fundamental fact of reality.
"When we are famous mages" and "after we graduate" and "once we get our own place," always we, always together, his future so tangled up with yours that separation is not even a possibility he considers, and somehow that certainty, that unshakeable assumption that you belong with him, makes you feel more wanted than any flowery declaration ever could.
Greetings, fellow writer of the internet, I was curious to know if it is alright to request the Housewardens and Jamil from Twisted Wonderland x gn Reader, where the Housewardens and Jamil are trying their absolute best to hide their growing feelings for the reader, but their affection keeps slipping through in the small gestures they do for the reader, such gestures like lingering touches, remembering tiny details, or soft smiles they didn’t mean to show, etc.? I just absolutely love this concept; It makes my stomach flutter with joy!!!
── ⋆⋅☆ TWST HOUSEWARDENS - WAYS YOU CAN TELL THEY LIKE YOU
── ⋆⋅☆ AUTHORS NOTE Twin, where have I been? I have been renovating my room and working full-time. Sorry for my absence, though no one probably noticed lol, I am back now. And also ☝️🤓 I feel like this is some of my best work, not to pat myself on the back. I researched writing tips and stuff cause I wanna cook for y’all.
── ⋆⋅☆ RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
Riddle absolutely thinks he’s being subtle about his feelings. Spoiler: he is not.
At first, it’s tiny things. Like, microscopic.
He’ll stand a little closer to you than he does to anyone else. Not close enough to break a rule, of course, but close enough that Cater raises an eyebrow every time.
Whenever you talk to him, he answers a little too quickly. Like he was already listening for your voice before you even said his name.
He absolutely tries to keep his tone even and proper, but every now and then, he slips and sounds… soft?
Not “Riddle Rosehearts, Perfect Prefect of Heartslabyul” soft, but “boy with a crush who has no idea what to do about it” soft :/
Sometimes he’ll do this thing where he gives you a compliment but phrases it like it’s just an objective observation.
“Your handwriting is—adequate.”
Translation: he’s trying not to say “you look cute” and failing miserably.
But the real kicker is the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.
Soft, warm, totally enamoured — like he’s letting himself feel everything he refuses to say out loud.
The second you look his way, though?
He straightens up, clears his throat again (this boy is singlehandedly hydrating himself by clearing his throat), and pretends he was absolutely not admiring you from five feet away.
We let him pretend.
He’s cute. He’s trying.
And one day, he’s absolutely going to crack and spill everything in one breath.
── ⋆⋅☆ LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
Leona thinks he’s being smooth about hiding his feelings.
He is, in fact, being about as subtle as a brick.
At first, it’s the little things he swears no one will notice.
Like how he suddenly “just happens” to nap in the exact places you like to hang out.
Pure coincidence, of course. Definitely not planning. Leona would never.
He’ll be lying there with his arm over his eyes, pretending he didn’t track your schedule down to the minute.
You show up?
“Oh. Didn’t see you there.”
Leona, you absolutely did. He heard you coming from across campus.
And if anyone calls him out? Instant denial.
“What, you think I care? Don’t be stupid.”
Meanwhile he is actively glaring at anyone who stands within two feet of you.
But the biggest giveaway? His tail.
That thing has zero poker face.
When you sit beside him, it’ll flick once like he’s annoyed… but then curl around your ankle like it has a mind of its own.
He’ll pretend he’s asleep so he doesn’t have to explain it.
── ⋆⋅☆ AZUL ASHENGROTTO
Azul swears he’s keeping his feelings under control.
And, honestly? He tries.
But the man is about as subtle as a contract with fine print in size 6 font.
At first, it shows in how he suddenly pays a little too much attention to you.
Like, you mention something once, and he has it memorized like it’s part of a business deal.
Your favourite drink? Always stocked.
Your schedule? He somehow knows it better than you
He acts perfectly composed, of course.
Or… tries to.
Because every time you compliment him, he does that weird “pushes his glasses up and looks away” thing like he’s buffering.
He starts offering you “special discounts” at the Lounge.
Which would be normal… except you’re the only one getting them.
“Oh, it’s just a promotional offer.” :D
Azul, babe, no promotion on earth is ‘for (Y/N) only.’
We let him pretend.
He’s cute when he thinks he’s being smooth.
── ⋆⋅☆ KALIM AL ASIM
Kalim doesn’t hide his affection so much as he thinks he is.
There’s a difference.
A very adorable difference.
At first, it’s the way he lights up whenever you walk into a room.
Not a normal smile. No, no.
A full sunshine-level beam like someone just told him every day is his birthday now.
He tries to act casual, but Kalim’s version of “casual” is… loud.
He’ll excitedly wave you over from across the hall, nearly knocking Jamil over in the process.
“Oh! Come sit with me!” :D
Totally subtle.
He remembers everything you like and immediately turns it into a celebration.
You mentioned once that you enjoy a certain snack? Boom. He orders a whole platter for the dorm.
Said you like a certain color?
Congratulations, he’s wearing it the next day.
“Oh wow, what a coincidence!” :D
Kalim, please.
If someone else tries to monopolize your attention? He doesn’t get jealous, exactly.
He just appears at your side out of thin air with a smile that says, 'I’m here now! Pay attention to me instead!'
He’s like an affectionate teleporting golden retriever.
── ⋆⋅☆ JAMIL VIPER
Jamil actually tries to hide his affection.
Not like Leona “pretend I don’t care” hiding or Kalim’s “I forgot I’m supposed to hide it” hiding.
No. Jamil hides it like it’s a state secret punishable by death.
At first, it shows in how he pays attention to you just a little too closely.
He’ll act like he just happened to notice you skipped lunch…
Right before he slides a plate your way without making eye contact.
“It’s extra. If you don’t want it, throw it out.”
Jamil, this meal has your love language all over it.
But the real giveaways? His reactions.
You make him laugh, genuinely laugh, and he immediately looks away like it was a crime.
Jamil acts like smiling at you too much is going to get him arrested.
If someone else gets too close to you?
Jamil doesn’t get jealous. he gets competitive. Silent, deadly, competitive.
Suddenly, he’s next to you, subtly out-performing whoever dared to take your attention with a smile that is absolutely not a smile.
── ⋆⋅☆ VIL SHOENHEIT
Vil insists he is in complete control of his emotions.
Naturally.
He is elegance. He is poise. He is composure... and he is also so painfully obvious about liking you that even Epel noticed.
EPEL.
At first, it’s the hyper-specific attention.
He’s always correcting your posture, brushing lint off your shoulder, fixing your collar, just small touches he claims are “for presentation.”
Sure, Vil. Totally not an excuse to be close to them at all.
He watches you like a hawk in the most caring way possible.
You skip breakfast? He knows.
You look tired? Suddenly, there’s a vitamin drink in your hands with “drink this” written all over his face.
“You need to take better care of yourself,” he says, sounding only 40% exasperated and 60% concerned.
He pretends it’s all for your health and image, but he is absolutely worrying about you like it’s his full-time job.
He also softens around you without meaning to.
His voice dips, his lectures shorten, and sometimes, just sometimes, he lets out genuine, unfiltered laughs.
Little ones, but still.
Vil Schoenheit letting himself relax in your presence is basically a love confession.
── ⋆⋅☆ IDIA SHROUD
Idia thinks he’s hiding his crush flawlessly. He truly believes he is the stealthiest man alive.
In reality?
Ortho knows.
The ghosts in Ignihyde know.
The vending machines probably know.
At first, it’s tiny things.
Like how he suddenly appears online the exact second you do.
“Oh wow, what a coincidence,” he says, while literally sweating.
Idia, please. He has push notifications on for your login. We know.
He starts sending you memes. Normal. Fine.
Except they’re ALWAYS perfectly tailored to your humour, and he sends them instantly, like he’s been waiting with the link copied to clipboard for hours.
Whenever you come to Ignihyde, his hair flames go from “soft blue” to “neon panic mode” in record time.
He’ll spin in his chair like, “Oh—uh—didn’t hear you come in!” (｡﹏｡")
Sir, you jumped like someone fired a cannon.
He tries to act cool by being “detached.”
You ask him a question, and he’s like, “Yeah, whatever, I guess…”
while literally typing a paragraph of internal screaming in his mental chatbox.
Stop, he's so cute.
── ⋆⋅☆ MALLEUS DRACONIA
Malleus truly believes he is being subtle.
He’s ancient, powerful, dignified.
Surely he can hide a simple crush... He cannot.
Everyone in Diasomnia figured it out before he did.
At first, it’s the way he just appears wherever you are. Completely by “coincidence.”
You go for an evening walk? Boom. There he is, emerging from the mist.
“Ah, Child of Man. Fancy meeting you here.” :)
Malleus, please.
He asks you questions. SO many questions.
Things no normal person would think to ask.
“What brings you joy?” “What colours do you like least?” “Have you dreamed recently?”
He’s collecting lore about you like you’re an ancient artifact he discovered.
He brings you gifts constantly, but pretends they are nothing.
A rare flower that blooms once every century. A hand-carved charm infused with protective magic. A little gem from his hoard.
“I happened upon this and thought you might appreciate it.” Sir. This is a priceless ancient relic.
He lights up when you say his name. Literally. His magic flickers, the air shifts, his smile grows just a bit too fast.
It’s like he’s been waiting centuries just to hear you acknowledge him.
He’s too precious and too hopelessly in love to call out.
in 2026, remember how GOOD writing feels. remember how satsfying it is to get your characters to the point you have been dying to get to, where they will experience the love, fear, relief or whatever the feeling you want to bring to life may be. let this year be the year of writing, prgress and of satisfactory endings.
hehehehehe my sister drew my twst oc with leona as thanks, after they asked me to let them in my YT premium account
so yeah, here's my yuu - yuno, and leona.
they just forgot leona’s tail, hence, why he looks naked. oh, and i forgor to tell them that yuno’s hair is darker than leona’s (as per ref but i gave them my shitty drawing of her haha)
ghad, I just know that had twst were available in my country and we discovered it at the same time, they would've loved leona. or malleus.
life has been so hectic as of late, with bills piling up, expenses rising through the roof because men and their shitty ego wants everyone to suffer, job hunting is shit, I just wanna crochet, play my games, read books and fics, and wriiiiiiiiite
thinking about.. sae as a clingy sleeper ♡
—ᓚᘏᗢ cw: fluff, gender isn't wpecified, clingy sae duh
ෆ a/n note: tysm for ts req!
when you and sae first got into a relationship, suprisingly he was the one who insisted that you move in with him. its not like you mind, but it felt unusual of sae suggestjng these things.
you agreed, he helped you move in, arranging your stuff the way you wanted. since sae never felt the need to live in a two bedroom penthouse as it was only him, you both shared a bedroom... and a bed.
sae and you have shared several intimate moments. cuddling, spooning, and etc. now it was a routine. every night before bed, he did demand a kiss from you. you loved when he was needy for you affection. he isn't a man of words, he is a man of action and he makes sure you understand that.
but, who would expect him to be clingy in his sleep too?
you, as his significant other lying down on your 'side' of the bed, asleep soundly. but your slumber is soon disturbed by two strong arms gripping you close to a muscular chest. and that belongs to none other than the itoshi sae.
the way his hands don't leave your body throughout the entire night, he's always touching you, he needs to feel you under his fingers or he wont be able to sleep comfortably. whenever you did confront him about his actions in the morning, he would refuse claiming, its his "only way to fall asleep comfortably and quickly".
oh, just how you are crazy in love with eachother.
written by - @ysvanielle (me) | please do not copy, steal, modify, repost or translate my content onto any other platforms or tumblr. reblogs, likes and follows are appreciated !
Imagine whats inside the mind and thoughts of the RSA cast when they realize you are dating their NRC counterpart, of course the heart of jealousy takes root.
Ooh, I care, I care, I care, like ribbons in your hair My stomach's all in knots, you got the one thing that I want
Twst men x reader ( minajael Tealrajah, rielle Corallia, Neige leblanche )
>> sorry if it's a little messy and I'm still waiting for the realest of the others.
MINAJAEL
When he first met you, it was outside of the palace–when he was running off from his attendance he accidentally bumped into you while you were eating at a food stand. He would graciously pay for it but he could hear the footstep of his attendance coming close, for some reason he decided to grab your hand and involved you in this conflict. When you and him manage to get away from the crowd, he immediately apologizes for dragging you into this. But first he is a Little confused that you seem not to recognize him, either his disguise is good or you don't know him–which is a relief for him because he doesn't need to worry about a scandal. Originally he wanted to follow you, originally you denied because you thought he was a theft due to the amount of people that were chasing him–honestly he doesn't know whether or not he should be impressed that you called a prince a thief or you deadass have no clue who he is.
By the uniform, it looks like you are a student of Night Raven College his rival school. Since there's extra time before the tournament began, you and him decided to explore. He was about to ask what route would you guys take to not be caught but in the corner of his eye, he saw you jump from the window–instead of hearing a thud he saw that you were sitting in a flying carpet, since the design looks similar towards ones that his cousin kalim own–he thought you might steal it so at first he was the one that didn't want to go with you. You started to get annoyed by him but decided to swallow it down because this dude might be a big shot due to the way he talks, you extended your hand towards him similar towards how your boyfriend kalim did when the first time he takes you on a joy ride–"do you trust me" you asked him. He replied with "no" but after a few seconds and you are still extending your hand to his, he sighed and took it.
That day was the best day of his life, despite being a prince–minajael would envy how his cousin was allowed to have such freedom. He saw the skies as well as going on adventures with you, heck you and him even almost got caught. The entire time, he could none stop looking at you with longing as well as amusement–he envies your freedom yet feels more relaxed around you. But it seems the sun's about to be settled and both of you have to return, it seems he was upset but agreed. That night, he dreams of the sweetest dreams about a person he wants to spend his life with.
Since you are a student of NRC, he assumes that he will meet you again and he did. During intermission, he decided to look for you wanting to keep talking to you–he did find you, but in the presence of his cousin kalim. A sudden punch in the gut happened inside his stomach, despite you and him met at such a short time–he genuinely feels a spark between you and him more than the princesses his family try to set up. It seems you and kalim are close... Seeing his cousin arms around your waist leaning his head on your shoulder make a brewing jealousy on his heart, yet you didn't push Kalim away–you simply enjoy his affection.
He retreated back towards the room he was staying passing rielle who looked confused why is he walking so fast and looking so distraught. Minajael refused to be seen like this, it makes him feel weak but the image of you and his cousin circle around his thoughts. "Do you trust me" is a line that is constantly repeated in his mind, a knife is twisting in his stomach. Thousands of thoughts come up in his head, do you like his cousins because he is energetic as well as beautiful. His cousin is nice and caring, while he's more tense as well as having a hard time letting people in–would you love him more if he changes his style to match his cousins, his thoughts were interrupted with rielle checking up on him because the announcement was soon to begin–and he started with a bitter pill to start.
RIELLE
You met the prince when you were, walking around–you were acting as an announcer for Crowley during the games as well as Crowley little helper. While you were carrying some paper, some guy was excitedly running around checking everything and slipping into you causing all the papers you were carrying fall. He immediately apologized and picked the papers, but suddenly stopped. Unfortunately it seems you were not focused on the seventh prince of the coral seas who was looking at you star struck, you pick up your stuff and left in a hurry.
As your silhouette fades away from the hall, rielle is left sitting in the floor starstruck and wondering who's that charming person. Life as the seventh prince is not easy you know, he is constantly overlooked by people as well as his own family but this strange new feeling in his stomach warms his heart. Is this what humans called falling in love at first sight, if it is–then it's a beautiful feeling because now he's looking forward to meeting you again. Every time, when he sees a glimpse of you–he would drop everything to see you even going against his headmasters orders, people of the sefurce are beautiful he has to admit and you are the most beautiful one.
But recently he's been seeing you around with an old classmate of his during elementary school, Azul. You and him seem to be very close, thinking as if you and him are just friends but there's an underlying feeling of jealousy and a pain telling rielle that you and Azul are dating–but he guess he denies it. Back then, Azul was nothing but a person who was targeted by bullying as well as mockery of others due to being squid merman. He would pretend to bump into you and azuls hang outs ( dares ) , hoping by doing this–he would gain your attention.
Yet deep down he knows that the truth is that you and Azul were dating, the way you look at him and as well as how Azul would express his care with affection would make him jealous and stop in his tracks. Originally he thought by also giving you gifts and presents, it would cause you and him to be closer but it has the opposite effect. He wonders why he is not allowed to give you a gift while Azul can, isn't he also allowed to have gifts towards you. He started to grow bitter, not towards you or Azul but himself.
Recently he's been doing a lot of self comparison towards Azul and him, rielle notice on how Azul hair is almost perfect as well as not messy like his. If he's hair is like that would you know him, I mean it's understandable that you like Azul. He is cool as well as smart, talented as well as handsome unlike him, rielle is more energetic, often too whimsy for others taste and naive. Rielle would try to copy Azul movements and the way he confidently walked into a room, but he's unable to project the same atmosphere as him. In the end the prince is defeated, and has to see his beloved in the arms of another person. He wishes that you would turn around and look at him but you didn't, because you are too busy looking at Azul then him. That night, rielle is in his room–his hands are covering his faces but behind is a heartbroken man with tears running down his cheek–he looks at the night stand and sees a picture of you he took, grabbing the frame and cuddling with it.
NEIGE
Neige always has a feeling that you and vil have something special between the both of you. When he first met you, he thought he finally met his princess. He was absolutely captivated by you, because you help him get away from a group of crazy fans not to mention putting yourself in harms way for his safety making sure he doesn't get lost or discovered amongst the crowds of observers. He sees how hard working you are during the VDC, which is a quality he respects and admires from you.
He continued to try to meet you, by sneaking towards NRC when he had free time. As well as asking for your number from your teammates, he sees how you care for others as well as despite being a little strict on your familiar–you deeply cared for grim as well as taking care of him. Grim would wonder why a famous actor like neige would keep visiting the ramshackle dorm just to meet you, but he would often brush it off due to the amount of sweets as well as gifts the famous actor bring.
The Media has been obsessing over who's the fixation over neige dreams. Many of his fans are heart broken by the news that neige already found a princess and is now courting them. Although neige haven't reveal anything much towards the public due to the Respects of your privacy, students of NRC like ace and deuce has been caught of guard when the actor is sitting in your dorm drinking cup of tea with grim on his lap talking towards you as well as wanting to get to know you.
These visits have become a weekly habit, neige would clear his schedule just to meet you and get to know you–sometimes if the weather is too bad, he would stay at the dorm. And in that moment, he feels right at home–being in your presence brings him comfort. One day, it was a normal visit but it was interrupted by another student of NRC–he believes that his name was rook but for some reason, the hunter is not allowing him from entering the dorm. The hunter simply look at neige with a pitiful look, and without saying a word lead the actor hands towards a window. The sight makes neige frozen in his spot, using the window he could see you and vil in an intimate hug with each other–it seems you and the Pomifiore dorm leader are close.
A sudden pang in his heart, as if a knife twisted upon his once beating heart. You were never and would never be his, after seeing the hunters look–he excuse himself and retreat back into his home. He did not even care if he gets caught, the entire time of his walk–his mind is constantly trying to find what makes vil better than him, he could understand your preference–vil has a sharp and regal look while neige has a cute yet beautiful face. The more he thinks about it, the more the knife twists in his heart. You only see him as a friend, no wonder you were distant –you were already vils one true love and not his. And that truth hurt him more than ever, the next day his management declared that neige will be going on a break for not apparent reason but people assume that he is gushing over romance but it's pretty the opposite.
I can't wait to write more fics with the RSA characters especially jealousy and yandere ones.
context: The seventh Prince of Coral Sea is instantly smitten the moment he properly sees you.
tags: GN!reader, reader here is Yuu, slightly jealous Azul, fluff.
a/n: i won’t write much RSA stuff until full information/lore will be revealed about Rielle and Minhaj, so have this little drabble that i got inspired by chapter 2 from book 8!
The lively outdoor grounds were filled with chatter and laughter from students of both schools. You stood a little behind Azul, watching everything unfold, when a boy with long, vibrant red hair came bounding over, a silver fork casually stuck through the messy bun on top of his head.
“Hey, you… have we met before?” Rielle asked, tilting his head at Azul with pure curiosity.
Azul smiled smoothly. “Oh, why yes indeed. We were in elementary and middle school together! I’ve changed quite a bit since then, so I’m beyond elated that you still manage to recognize me!”
Rielle’s bright blue eyes widened in recognition. “Elementary school… wait, are you Azul? You must be Azul, right? The octopus merman!”
“Yes, that is correct. It's good to see you again, Prince Rielle!”
The two of them exchanged quick, happy greetings — Rielle complimenting how “dignified” and “handsome” Azul looked under the sun, Azul returning the compliments with his usual polished charm.
Then Rielle’s gaze slid past Azul… and landed directly on you.
For a moment, everything seemed to stop for him.
His blue eyes went wide, sparkling like the surface of the sea under bright sunlight. His mouth parted slightly, and a faint pink flush crept across his cheeks. The long red hair framing his face shifted as he leaned forward, completely forgetting the conversation with Azul for a second.
“Woah…” he breathed, voice softer than before but still full of that unstoppable excitement. “Who… who are you?”
Azul trying not to show his irritated face, cleared his throat politely. “This is Yuu, the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm. They’ve been assisting me today.”
Rielle didn’t even blink. He leaned in a little, blue eyes scanning your face with pure curiosity. “Hi! I’m Rielle Corallia — seventh prince of the Coral Sea! You look like you’re from the surface, but… wait, are you?” he asked, voice filled with wonder. “But not just any human. There’s something different about you...”
He stepped closer to you, ignoring everything else around him. His teal uniform swayed with the movement, and the fork in his hair bobbed as he tilted his head, staring at you like you were the most fascinating thing he’d seen since he first set foot on land.
You shyly nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I am a human, from another world completely. I kind of just appeared here one day.”
Rielle’s reaction was immediate and dramatic. He gasped loudly, both hands flying up in excitement for a split second before he grabbed your hands without thinking. His palms were warm, slightly trembling with excitement.
“Another world?!” he exclaimed, voice cracking with pure awe. “Like… a completely different one? Not even from the sea or the land here? That’s incredible! You’re like something out of a story Papa used to tell me about the surface, but even better because you’re real!”
His bright blue eyes never left your face. The flush on his cheeks deepened, and for a moment he looked almost shy but now completely starstruck by you.
“That’s the coolest thing I’ve ever heard! What does your world look like? Do you have magic there too? Or do people move differently? What kind of food do you eat? Do you have music? Dancing? Tell me about the sky — is it the same color as here? Do you have stars at night? Oh— and what’s your hobbies? I really want to remember it!”
He laughed, a bright, bubbly sound, but didn’t let go. “I know I’m rushing again — Papa always scolds me for that — but… can you promise to tell me more after the match? I want to hear everything about your world. What the sky looks like where you’re from, what you eat, how you walk, everything!”
Rielle’s gaze was warm and sparkling, the kind of look that said he had already decided you were special. The fork in his messy red hair caught the sunlight as he smiled at you, wide and genuine, cheeks still pink.
Azul purposely coughed a bit more loudly beside you two.
Rielle blinked, suddenly remembering where he was. “Ah— right! The match!” He laughed sheepishly and let go of your hands, though he gave them one last gentle squeeze. “I have to go get ready now, but… I really want to talk more later, Yuu! Promise?”
He turned to Azul and shook his hand firmly, grinning brightly. “Today’s match will be broadcasted in the Coral Sea too! Let’s put on a great show for them!”
Azul smiled. “Why yes, of course.”
Rielle then looked back at you one last time. With an enthusiastic wave, hand raised high near his shoulder, he called out cheerfully, “See you later!” His long red hair swayed as he jogged away, figure gradually fading into the crowd.
Once Rielle was out of sight, Azul adjusted his glasses with a composed smile.
“The seventh Prince of the Coral Sea, Rielle Corallia,” he said smoothly. “Indeed, let’s put on a great show. So the people of the land and sea can see how capable I am.”
In his mind, the rest of the sentence played clearly: “You foolish Prince! You’ll make for a fine supporting actor in this play of mine!”
You glanced at Azul, easily reading the calculating glint in his eyes and the faint tightening of his polite smile. He was definitely a little jealous.
Azul turned to you, still smiling, though it looked just a touch too perfect. “Well then… after all that excitement, would you like me to spray some antiseptic on your hands?” He pulled a small bottle from his pocket with practiced ease. “Prince Rielle can be quite enthusiastic with his greetings.”
“Oh? Is this jealousy I sense from you Azul?”
“I have no slightest idea on what you’re talking about.”
You raised an eyebrow, fighting back a smirk. Azul was clearly trying to change the subject — and maybe wipe away the lingering warmth of Rielle’s touch.
A/N : this is most likely VERY mischaracterized and inaccurate in a way as information about Rielles character / personality is scant (book 8-2 JUST came out ffs LOL)
It sounds ironic coming from him, but he likes spoiling you—just not in flashy, extravagant ways. Instead, he ensures you have the finest quality of whatever item you want, be it a perfectly crafted stationary set, clothes, sweets you’ve been craving, you name it. And when you ask just how much he spent, he shoots you that annoying smirk of his and replies, “It’s reasonably priced.” He says. Well at least for him it is.
Doesn’t like you being jealous at all, the mere thought of it makes his heart sink. So when news came that he was arranged with some other royal who isn’t even born yet, he’s desperate to reassure you. “Azizati, I promise it wasn’t my decision. My heart truly only belongs to you.” He pleaded in your ear, his warmth against yours as he pulls you into a tight embrace. “I know, my prince.” “..Please don’t call me that,” a pause. Then quieter, mumbling into your neck. “Well, I mean it’s okay that I’m your prince but—you know-” His words fade as he hides his burning face against you, nuzzling close in embarrassment.
He’s never liked staying at the palace, the media and many know that well—knowing he’s ran away from home multiple times. So, whenever he’s forced to stay there and falls sick, he doesn’t wait before finding you. Your phone lights up with a message, “I’m outside, open up.” You hurry downstairs and swing the door open, finding him there on the doorstep—breath uneven as his fever rises. When you ask why he always comes to you whenever he’s sick, his answer is always, “It’s unbearable being ill in the palace,” he mutters. His answer isn’t entirely a lie, but he’d be lying if he said there isn’t another reason. He likes the way you fuss over him, the quiet comfort of being taken care of by you.
Likes your hands a lot, he’s always mindlessly rubbing his thumb across your knuckles or lacing them together with his. Every time you meet, he greets you with a kiss on the back of your hand. When you question why he does that, he just spares you a smug look before letting out a soft chuckle.
Has this habit of always having his hands on you. Whether it be his palm resting against the small of your back, guiding you through a crowd, or his fingers mindlessly tracing circles on your waist, his touch always seems to find its way to you. When it’s just you two alone, he gets a little greedy with it. Your back pressed to his chest, his arms around your waist, holding you close as if he has no intention of letting go anytime soon. The moment you try to slip away, he pulls you closer. “Don’t,” he whispers, his breath brushing against your ear.
He rarely gets jealous, but when he does, he sulks like there's no tomorrow. When you ask what’s wrong, he only shrugs you off. “S’nothing,” he mutters, though the restless shift of his posture say otherwise. He grows quieter, clearly bothered yet too stubborn to admit it. It’s only then when you smother him in kisses would he give in, sighing as he lets the truth slip through his lips.
✿ Minhaj notices you walk into RSA before you ever truly notice him, though, ironically, that’s exactly what draws him in.
✿ From the very beginning, his attention doesn’t come from anything loud or dramatic. It isn’t your appearance alone, nor the fact that you’re among NRC students in a space where tensions already run subtly high. It’s something quieter, something harder to define. The way you carry yourself without calculation, the way you speak without weighing every word like it could be used against you later, it’s unfamiliar to him, unnerving even—and yet, he finds himself watching you interact with your fellow students. And he studies your habits even with what little time he has before he comes up to you.
✿ Not in an invasive way—no! Of course not, he’s way too refined for that.. also it might come off as suspicious. His observations are layered and patient. Throughout the week he picks up on the way your tone shifts depending on who you’re speaking to, how your posture changes when you’re relaxed versus when you’re alert, the small unconscious habits you repeat without realizing. The way you brush something off when it should bother you more.
✿ By the time you actually start a conversation with him, Minhaj already knows far more about you than he should, and yet—You look at him like he’s no one special. I mean, of course you would, you're from a different world if those rumours going around were true, you wouldn't be able to recognise him because he simply doesn't exist where you were.
✿ It's just.. he's used to people still treating him as someone superior despite asking to be seen as equal, you treated him just so... normally! Even after being told he's a prince, your behaviour didn't change much with him!...so at first, he assumes it’s intentional.
✿ A tactic, perhaps a performance? People have tried stranger things to get closer to him, to stand out from the endless line of carefully curated interactions he’s endured his entire life. But the longer he speaks with you, the more that theory starts to to fall apart.
✿ Because you don’t push and you don't probe him for anything, you don't try to impress him either. If anything, you seem mildly confused by the way he speaks, too polished and deliberate but you don’t comment on it. You simply respond in your own way, casual and unfiltered, as if there’s no invisible hierarchy separating the two of you. And Minhaj finds that so refreshing.
✿For the first time in a long while, he doesn’t feel like he’s being approached. He feels like he’s simply… there.
˖᯽ ݁˖
✿ Minhaj tells himself it’s just..curiosity. A desire to understand something unfamiliar. Someone unfamiliar. You are from a different world, it's completely understandable!
✿ But curiosity, for him, has always been controlled, always contained within observation and never allowed to interfere with his composure. With you however, that line begins to blur faster than he’s comfortable admitting.
✿ And his interest deepens not through grand moments, but through accumulation.
✿ It’s in the way you speak to him without hesitation, interrupt him mid-thought without fear, or casually disagree as if the weight of his opinion doesn’t outweigh yours. There’s no calculation behind i, and that lack of intent makes every interaction feel more genuine than anything he’s experienced before.
✿ Because of that Minhaj starts finding himself waiting for your responses. Not predicting them, not analyzing them ahead of time—but genuinely, truly waiting.
✿ He begins to notice how easily his attention settles on you, even when it shouldn’t. He starts positioning himself closer to you in conversation without realizing it. Not enough to be obvious of course, but enough that he can catch your expressions more clearly, hear the subtle changes in your voice, notice the way your attention drifts and returns. He listens to you with an intensity that would make most people nervous… yet somehow, with you, it feels natural.
✿ When the environment becomes too loud, too crowded, too overwhelming, he intervenes almost instinctively. A gentle shift like a subtle guiding hand at your side, leading you somewhere less suffocating. He doesn’t explain why he does it, And you don’t seem to question it, though that alone unsettles him more than he expects.
✿ There are moments...small, almost insignificant, where something shifts further than he intends.
✿ Like when you lean closer without thinking, your voice lowering as you speak, and he realizes he’s stopped listening to the words entirely. Or when you brush against him in passing and don’t pull away immediately, and he has to consciously remind himself not to react, to keep his composure intact, his expression unchanged and his thoughts controlled.
✿ Or worse. When you look at him directly, unguarded, and he finds himself holding your gaze longer than necessary… because he simply doesn’t want to look away.
✿ That’s when it starts to feel less like curiosity. And more like something he cannot easily categorize.
˖᯽ ݁˖
✿ From that point on, his interest is no longer something that can be passed off as simple curiosity, instead, it becomes something intentional.
✿ He seeks you out, not openly, never in a way that would draw unnecessary attention—but consistently. He times his movements, his appearances, the spaces he occupies, so that crossing paths with you feels coincidental when it never truly is.
✿ He learns quickly that he prefers your interactions this way; unaware of how deeply he’s already begun to invest in your presence. Because if he allows himself to acknowledge it fully...the way he listens only to you in a crowded room, the way his attention lingers longer than necessary, the way he subtly prioritizes your comfort without ever announcing it
✿ Then it becomes something far more dangerous than curiosity. Something that could be taken away from him. And Minhaj Ar-Rajah does not rush into things he cannot control.
✿ So instead, he chooses restraint, slow, deliberate closeness. Small gestures that could be dismissed as coincidence if questioned, yet repeated often enough to mean something undeniable. A hand hovering just slightly too close before pulling away, a quiet redirection when you’re overwhelmed, a gaze that lingers a moment longer than it should.
✿ He's noticed what draws him in isn’t just that you don’t recognize him. It’s that even after you do, you don’t lose yourself in what he represents. And for someone like Minhaj, who has spent his entire life being seen as a title before a person…
✿ That alone is enough to make him stay longer than he planned, closer than he intended. And far more attached than he will ever willingly admit—at least, not yet.
✿ For Minhaj Ar-Rajah does not fall quickly. He falls carefully and deliberately. Step by step, thought by thought, moment by moment—Until one day, without a clear beginning or turning point, he simply realizes;
✿He is already too far gone to consider this anything temporary.
hyperfixiation so bad it makes you start writing properly again after two YEARS (technically like 2 months if you count the killer sans HC drabble but I don't),,,,,I'm more then rusty so sorry if this is awful😭,,,,this is also likely gonna be ooc when we get to know him more </3 very much based on others interpretations ( @/idiasplayertwo and @/squirrelioo specifically,, they're saur good) cuz I lwk can't bring myself to look at more book 8 leaks, so honestly it might be ooc even WITH what little characterising we know💔 but I hope you guys enjoy while I work on the doodle requests hehhuehegeheheee
Also ignore the divider thumbnail I made it's lwk ass ✌️the pretty flower one however is from here <3
SUMMARY: running errands with jamil, you meet an old ‘friend’ of his in town..
CHARACTERS: jamil viper, minhaj alrajah
GENRE: fluff, light angst but nothing crazy
WARNINGS: one mention of hives (itchy skin), spoilers for book 8(?) (new character)
NOTES: relationship is up to interpretation (jamil), fic title based off jellyous by illit, reader is only a little bit of a loser, sorta canon divergent (meeting outside of the game), i changed his name a little cause the official one didn’t really make sense?
reader is g/n, reader is yuu
∘˙🐍
the market of foothill town was bustling with people.
jamil let out a sigh at the swimming crowd. he expected it to be busy, but not this busy. in the end, he was the one who chose to go on a saturday..
sam’s shop had run out of the only detergent that didn’t make kalim’s skin break out in hives, so this was an emergency run he had to make right away. he didn’t expect you to want to tag along, but he didn’t see the harm in doing so til now.
he turns to you, a slightly apologetic look on his face before he lets out another sigh. “i apologize, prefect. i didn’t realize how large the crowd would be today,” jamil murmured, clutching the bag on his arm.
“it’s fine, believe me. we just can’t get separated, right?” you smile, giving jamil’s heart that same flutter he never dared mention aloud. he coughs into his hand, hiding a smile of his own before mumbling words to himself.
“just.. stay close and try not to be swept away.”
˙∘✧
just as expected, the marketplace was chaotic.. and just as jamil thought, you were swept away. he’s normally so careful while watching kalim, so why did he have to lose you?! clutching the bag of detergent tightly in his hands, he massaged his temple with furrowed brows.
“curses.. i should’ve told them to stay put somewhere..” he muttered, knowing you’d at least try to remain in the same place unlike kalim. he squeezed his way through, searching for the face he knows and loves amidst the faceless crowd. luckily he was already used to navigating through busy streets, considering his home in the scalding sands.
while jamil searched for you, you on the other hand had your own dilemma. oranges rolled across the ground as the angry shopkeeper glared at you. you had been pushed into his fruit stand by other bystanders, and to your dismay, fruit flew everywhere.
“sevens, why me..” you grumbled, hastily picking up the fruits before they got squished. jamil was nowhere to be seen. you really should’ve watched where you were going, because you just lost the one guy who actually knew where he was going.
just as you reached out for another orange, another hand beat you to it. at first you thought it was jamil, hoping it’d be just like all the shojou manga you’ve read.
to your dismay, it was not jamil, but a man almost nearly as stunning. his outfit was a bright teal, with gold adorning almost every part of his stature. his hair was glamorous, as was his makeup. he was radiant, you felt nearly blinded.
“need help with that?” he finally broke the silence as he met your eyes. there was a smirk to his face as he stood upright, tossing the orange in the air and catching it with grace. he saw the handful of oranges in your arms and must’ve took pity on you.
“uh, thanks!” you managed to breath out, breaking from your momentary awe. he must’ve noticed your staring, because all he did was chuckle. the boy collected the rest of the oranges from the ground, handing them back to the shopkeeper and smoothing things over with ease.
“thank you again, i appreciate it!” you reply once again, giving him a slight bow.
his eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile didn’t waver. “no need to be so formal. out here, im just another student like you.” the mystery boy said, waving you off.
“out.. here?” you raise your brow, not exactly picking up what he’s putting down. you try looking at him again, trying to identify any familiar faces that seem alike. none exactly come to mind.. “im sorry, i don’t quite follow..” you laughed awkwardly, noticing his eyes widen a bit.
“..do you not recognize me?” now where have you had a similar interaction before? you simply shake your head, seeing his smile grow a size bigger.
“is that bad?” you ask in a moment of panic, only to hear him laugh loudly in response.
“no, no, not at all.” he assures you, nodding his head. he eyes you up and down, almost observantly. his brow furrowed in thought. “if i may ask, where are you from?” he asked with a smile.
you hesitate for a moment. “i, uh.. i don’t think you’d know!” you say, scratching the back of your neck. he seemed to have took it as a challenge, because all he did was smirk.
“oh? wish to bet?” he asks playfully, catching you a moment off guard. is it a twisted wonderland thing for people being so direct and pushy?
“well, im from..” as you tell him of your place of origin, the smugness is wiped off his face.
he crosses his arms. “well, i suppose you’re right. i’ve never heard of such a place before..” he hums, thinking to himself.
“yeah, im not surprised.” you murmur, already used to this routine. before you could part ways with the mystery boy, he spoke once more.
“ah.. now i remember,” he says, a newfound gleam in his eye. “yes, you’re the magicless prefect i’ve heard so much about then.” he smiles, throwing you for a loop.
“you— you know who i am?” you swallowed thickly, feeling weird for being recognized. how does he know about you? are you outlawed? are you in trouble?
“of course, you’re famous at our school.” he chuckles, resting a hand on his hip. does he attend night raven college as well? you would’ve sworn you saw such a glamorous face before.. “yes, che’nya spoke of you before.”
so rsa..? “i had no idea i was known outside of nrc,” you mumble, feeling a bit embarrassed now. you were already too big of a name at nrc (for all the wrong reasons), you really didn’t need to be known because of that chaos..
jamil stood from afar, his hands forming fists by his side. no.. say it isn’t so. you met another man he had despised, as if kalim wasn’t horrible enough already. maybe he was a bit harsh in his head, but just the thought of you running away with another made his blood boil.
your smiling and laughing.. please don’t tell him you like that sickening prince, he can’t bear it. with a smile as forced as it could be, he approaches you two by the stand.
“[MC], there you are. i thought i had lost you.” jamil says, standing beside you with a hand on your shoulder. you nearly jump at his sudden presence, though feel relieved to know he found you. his gaze was soft, yet an underlying motive hiding beneath the surface. jamil’s eyes flicker to the boy across of you, his soft gaze turning dark.
he still smiled, but that smile didn’t meet his eyes. “oh my, prince minhaj, it’s been quite some time since we’ve last spoke. the weather is quite pleasant, wouldn’t you agree?” jamil mused, giving who you now know is a prince a polite nod.
“..prince?” you murmur, staring at minhaj. he simply let out a hefty sigh, realizing the fun of being an unknown had been cut short.
“enough with the humble tone, jamil. i don’t want to be called ‘prince’ outside the castle..” minhaj retorts, playing with the braided bandana by his side. now it all the gold made sense, but to be fair there were pretty flashy people that weren’t royalty.
“ah, but i’d have no ground to stand on if i were arrested in the scalding sands for speaking disrespectfully to you.” jamil sighs wistfully, a false look of worry in his face. there was a hidden venom in every word coming out of his mouth, and you could tell minhaj had noticed it.
“so you’re.. royalty?” you mumble, realizing how informal you must’ve been. “i guess i should’ve known, huh? sorry about the lack of formality.” you laugh awkwardly, feeling a small sweat dripping from your brow.
minhaj shrugged his shoulders, not offended by your informality in the slightest. “don’t be, it was quite refreshing,” he smiled at you before his eyes slowly trailed back to jamil. the poor boy was barely holding it together, her brows knit together and his smile twitching slightly at the corners.
jamil thinks he’s well composed right now, but that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“has night raven college been serving you well? i’d imagine attending a magic school while magicless is a bit contradictory.” minhaj asks, still willing to make conversation.
“ahem,” jamil clears his throat before you could reveal the truth of your sad excuse for a dorm. “apologies, minhaj, but we’re in quite a hurry. [MC], we better get going.” jamil kept the hand on your shoulder but squeezed quite firmly, a silent ask of you to get going.
you glance at him, seeing the silent plead in his eyes. with a nod of acknowledgment, you turn back to the prince and bow ever so slightly. “sorry, i guess we’ve gotta go. it was nice meeting you!” you smile, giving him a wave.
“ah, i suppose i shouldn’t keep you then. let’s meet again soon, [MC].” minhaj smirks, taking your hand and giving it a shake. he looks over to jamil, his smirk turning into a cocky grin that you wouldn’t catch if you blinked. “jamil, it was nice seeing you as well. tell kalim of the asim’s i wish him well.”
“..of course. well, if you excuse us.” jamil replied with a strain in his voice, grabbing your hand out of the other boys grasp and whisking you away. you let out a slight yelp as you followed close behind.
˙∘✧
jamil held a tight grip on your hand, not seeming to let go anytime soon. you don’t even think he noticed because all that was written on his face was annoyance and irritation.
the mask he barely held together had long melted the minute he turned around and strung you along. not including the voices of the crowd, the silence between you two was loud.
he was about to lose his marbles. that spoiled prince, chatting with you as if you knew him since forever. if jamil hadn’t intervened, he would’ve probably swept you away and convince you to join royal sword academy. always getting everything he asked.. why wouldn’t he? while jamil fought tooth and nail to get what he desired, all minhaj had to do was ask.
jamil had worked too hard to get you to even glance at him, to make you think he’s worth something.. but even so, he doesn’t know if that’s even the truth. he—
“jamil?” you say his name, breaking the silence between you two. he froze in his tracks, glancing back at you with a neutral expression.
“yes, prefect?” jamil replied before you suddenly squeezed his hand and began to run. it was sudden, it was chaotic, you were running like someone was chasing you. “prefect?! where in the world are you going?!” he shouts, though all you did was laugh at him in response. his heart pounded in his chest, almost all the surfacing anger being lifted at the sight of your smile.
the smile meant for him, he hoped.
you finally stopped by a bench, allowing jamil to catch his breath before glancing up at you. “by the seven, what was that for?” he manages to breath out, resting his hand on the bench.
“to get your mind off your doubts.” you stated simply, letting go of his hand with a proud look on your face. jamil simply tilted his head to the right with a confused look on his face.
“excuse me?” he asks almost offendedly before you get closer to him. his gaze went from your face to the ground below him, holding his tongue and biting the inside of his cheek. he could feel the heat rushing to his face at the close proximity, but he is not trying to let that show.
“don’t lie to me, jamil viper,” you start, pressing a finger to his chest. “we all saw it on your face.” you frowned, though it wasn’t serious. if anything, you looked a bit smug. “a jealous scowl on your face doesn’t suit you.”
jamil lets out an exasperated sigh. “jealous? prefect i—”
“aha, see! evidence.” you grin, throwing him off guard. “in front of minhaj, you actually said my name! you don’t do that.” you laugh, watching his eyes widen. jamil grumbled something under his breath before you took his face in your hands.
“jamil, you know i’m not going anywhere, right?” you ask, tempting him to look at you. “right now, my home is at night raven college. and right now, my heart is too full of you to leave.” your statement was bold, even for him. he slowly put a hand over your own, looking you in the eyes.
because of his unique magic, nobody likes to look him in the eyes whenever they speak. they look everywhere but his face, everywhere but him. to them he is nobody, to them he is a threat.
but you? you look him in the eyes without a second thought. there is no fear, no hesitance, no second guessing. you look him right in the eyes without a doubt in your mind that you can put your full trust in him.
the words on his tongue were lost, his mouth hanging slightly agape. you chuckled before letting go of his face and letting him take a moment to let out the breath he was holding. he pulls the hoodie of his sweater over his eyes, trying desperately to hide the blush that inevitably took over his entire face.
“let’s.. let’s just get going.” he grumbled, walking ahead of you with quick steps. how did he even meet someone as unpredictable as you?
as you trailed behind, you’re about to approach the large crowd you two once got separated in. he stopped walking and turned back to you.
“hm?” you hum, watching jamil come closer. he grabs your hand and held it tightly. “oh? feeling like a gentleman?” you chuckled, teasing him a little.
not wanting to be the only flustered one, jamil raised your knuckles to his lips and brushed against them softly. you felt yourself eat your words as it was your turn to feel your pupils blow wide open.
“now we can’t get lost, right [MC]?” jamil murmured, unable to hide the smug grin creeping up on his face.
you two walked back to nrc hand in hand, a comfortable silence hanging between you two as you weaved through a crowd.
if this is what his jealousy entailed, then maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.
A/N: seeing how jamil acts with the new rsa student is so funny i had to write something asap i am in love with you jamil viper
WARNING: Spoilers for book 3!
summary: playing a late night game of chess with leona
"Liar..."
The direbeast let out soft snores as he got lost in his dreams, several papers beneath him, most of them unanswered, after the trouble he got himself in with Azul, he said he would work harder but you knew better than to expect him to change overnight.
Gently carrying Grim as to not wake him, you tucked him in the 'bed' you arranged on the floor, with the blankets and pillows Ruggie had given you earlier. Internally thanking Leona for allowing you both to crash in his room, though begrudgingly. Grim immediately got comfortable leaving you with a warmth in your heart, it was still quite early at night, but homework can make anyone sleepy.
Cleaning up on what he was working on "I'm pretty sure that isn't right..." you murmured at his writings and what you can only assume are solutions. After you gathered most of them in a neat pile, you noticed one last paper with terrible penmanship on the corner of the desk. Upon grabbing it, a black and white checkered box was underneath, putting the pile aside you inspect the box closer, turning on a desk lamp to see clearer. "Didn't know he played chess"
Curiosity got the better of you and with a small click you had opened the box, revealing multiple black and white pieces. Emptying it, you realized how weighted the pieces were, definitely nothing like the ones you've played with before, the board was smooth and well polished with some small gold accents to it. Goodness, this is definitely expensive.
The soft clacking noises, wasn't loud enough to wake, but enough to catch the attention of a prince quietly reading on his bed. He tore his gaze from the page, putting the book down and quietly observed the herbivore who placed pieces carefully on the board, letting out a soft scoff as he watched them align them perfectly.
"You play?" a deep voice from your side, he leaned on the desk fixing the misplaced king and queen. "I keep inerchanging them" you huffed watching his correction. "And yes, I do, but I'm no good, why wanna play?" your tone changing to a more intrigued one. "You just said you're no good, not much of a challenge for me" he yawned laying back down on his mattress.
"Oh c'mon!" you sit on the edge of his bed carrying the board. "It's for fun" you lay it down beside him, "Go to sleep herbivore" he covered his eyes with his arm, "It's still 8:30, and i won't stop asking you until you agree" the thought of not being able to rest peacefully had him sitting upright while grumbling complaints. "Whatever gets you off my back" his tone never really hitting deep as his ears and tail betray him, showing amusement to his favorite game.
5 rounds in, you were on a losing streak, the silence and tension only seeming to bother you and not him, move after move, he'd capture your pieces without mercy. Even going as far as to chase your king despite knowing he could end the match with one move just to see you panic (jerk). The entire game he was entertained by your expressive nature, how you weren't able to conceal a single thought from him.
The way your brows furrowed in thought, your fingers fidget uncontrollably as he moves a piece, your eyes scanning for any opening and gap in his plan, and the way your breathing pattern changes under stress. He was relaxed, and even happy? Both of you had completely lost track of time as the game went on.
"Checkmate"
"What?!"
You examined the board for confirmation, and he did in fact win. Again. Groaning in defeat, he had his signature smirk plastered on his face as he watched you get swallowed in your misery. His smirk faltered, seeing your tired eyes. "You got what you wanted, I'm done, go to bed herbivore it's late" he laid on his back, "What?! One more round and I swear I'll leave you alone" he sighed, about to refuse until he was met with your determined glare "Last one"
He propped on himself up on his elbow and waited until you got all the pieces back to their places. You move a pawn 2 spaces forward, he does the same, you move another pawn, setting it beside the previous white pawn—
"Checkmate"
Placing his queen in a position that trapped your king, no other piece could save it, and for the 7th time, he won against you. "Wait, in the other rounds, did you purposefully delay your win?" he let out a soft chuckle as he turned his back against you "Wasn't difficult, you stress out on one piece so much you overlook the rest"
A soft smile found it's way to you, "I'm definitely making you teach me chess strategies" you gently put the pieces back in and returned the board on the desk. "Tch, you still need to learn to utilize all your pieces" "Oh? so you are teaching me?" you say with a sly tone. He snorts, "You desperately need it"
You make yourself confortable beside Grim, letting the peace envelop you. "Goodnight Leona" "Yeah, yeah, night herbivore..."
"No," you whisper, and the word comes out broken, barely audible. "No, no, please—"
Leona's arms lock around your waist from behind, hauling you back even as you lunge forward. You claw at his forearms, nails digging in hard enough that you might be drawing blood, but his grip doesn't loosen. If anything, it tightens.
"Herbivore." His voice is rough, strained from the loss. "Stop."
"Let me go!" You thrash against him, wild and graceless, trying to break free. "I can fix this, I can still save him, just let me—"
"You can't." The words come out with a finality that breaks your heart. "It's too late. There's no one to save."
"You don't know that!" Your voice cracks on the last word, pitching up into hysteria "You don't know, maybe if I just try harder, maybe if I—"
"Look." Leona's voice drops, and quiet in a way that's somehow worse than if he'd shouted. "Really look. It's over."
You do. You look, and the truth of it hits you all over again, a wave of grief so visceral it nearly takes you to your knees. Leona's arms are the only thing holding you upright now. Your legs have gone weak, boneless.
"I should have been more careful," you choke out. "I should have paid more attention, I should have noticed sooner—"
"This isn't your fault."
"It is!" The words rip out of you, raw and anguished. "I was supposed to take care of it, I was supposed to keep it safe, and I failed. I failed, Leona, and now he's gone and I can't—I can't—"
Your breath is coming too fast and shallow. The room tilts and blurs, and you realize distantly that you're crying, that tears are streaming down your face and dripping off your chin. You can taste salt on your lips.
"I can't lose him," you whisper. "I can't. Please. Please, there has to be something—"
"There's nothing." Leona's voice is gentle now, gentler than you've ever heard it, and that's what finally breaks you. "He's gone. You have to let him go."
"I don't want to let go." The confession comes out small, childish. "I don't know how."
Leona shifts his grip, turning you around so you're facing him instead of the windowsill. His hands come up to frame your face, thumbs brushing away tears even as new ones fall. His expression is unreadable, something complicated flickering behind his eyes.
"You're not going to follow him," he says, and there's steel in his voice now. "You understand me? You're not going to do something stupid because you think you can't live with this."
"Leona—"
"I mean it." His fingers tighten against your jaw, just enough to make you focus on him instead of the grief threatening to swallow you whole. "There's no point in dying for something that's already dead. You keep breathing. You keep going. That's what you do."
"I don't think I can." Your voice breaks on the admission. "It hurts too much. How am I supposed to just keep going when it hurts this much?"
"Because you have to." Leona leans his forehead against yours, close enough that you can feel his breath ghost across your skin. "Because giving up doesn't bring it back. Because destroying yourself won't change what happened."
You close your eyes, fresh tears squeezing out from beneath your lashes. Your hands come up to clutch at his shirt, fisting in the fabric like it's the only thing anchoring you to the world.
"I don't know how to say goodbye," you whisper.
The hole you dig is small.
You kneel in the garden behind Ramshackle, dirt caking under your fingernails as you carve out a space that feels simultaneously too big and not big enough. Leona crouches beside you, not helping but he doesn't leave.
When the hole is deep enough, you sit back on your heels and reach for the terracotta pot. The blue stripes are faded, chipped in places. You'd always meant to touch up the paint. You'd always thought there would be more time.
"I'm sorry," you say quietly, and your voice only shakes a little. "I'm so sorry I couldn't save you."
You lower the pot into the ground, careful and reverent.
Leona's hand settles on your shoulder, warm and grounding.
Together, you push the dirt back into place, covering the pot until there's nothing left to see but a small mound of disturbed earth. You smooth it down with your palms, gentle, and when you're done you just sit there, staring at the makeshift grave.
"Jack's going to ask about it," you say eventually. "When he comes by next week."
"Yeah." Leona squeezes your shoulder once before letting go. "He will."
"I don't know what to tell him."
"The truth." Leona stands, brushing dirt off his pants. "That you did your best. That sometimes things die anyway."
You look up at him, then back down at the grave. At the place where Jack's cactus is buried, the one he'd given you with such care, the one you'd promised to keep alive.
"Rest in peace, Vermin" you whisper. "You were a good cactus."
You just press your palm flat against the dirt one last time, feeling the warmth of the sun-baked earth, and let yourself grieve for the small, spiky thing that had trusted you to keep it safe.
happy april fools :3
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