After venturing along until the depths of the night crept in and dyed the sky black, your respite is sounded by the chimes of a dingy, rusting bell above your head. It's golden coat corroded by graying rust, it clinks along its walls with the power of a baby chick calling it's mother; piercing and solitary. The sound is quickly swallowed by the desolate murk that shrouds the entranceway.
The darkness that surrounds you is thick and as you reach an arm forward, it swallows it up to your elbow like some ravenous beast. The silence is deafening, like drowning in a moat and so potent that even a scream would be quickly shushed within it.
You consider turning around and leaving. You look back at the glass door — where paint is chipped all over to reveal the deteriorated state of the wood — and are met with the sight of darkened, puffy clouds swimming in the sky. It'll rain soon, you deduce.
To turn tail and take your chances with the impeding storm or stay to deal with what your eyes cannot perceive was the question that ailed you — probably for a second too long because soon the darkness rushes at you with a crackling hiss that startles you stiff.
You spin around, eyes darting left then right then left again. There's silence once more. You don't dare to reach out a second time now that you know you're not alone as the will to move or even turn your head leaves your perturbed being.
Whatever lingers in the dark seems to quieten for a mere moment to allow you time to get your racing heart in check again before it rattles it all over again when the sound repeats with the ferocity of a frightened, defensive rattlesnake. This time, it doesn't have the patience to wait for you to calm yourself and the noise zips to a more aggressive volume before suddenly dispersing all together — like a flame suddenly sparking on to then quickly be extinguished.
It's then that you hear it; music. With the catchiness of an old school commercial, the melody dominates the air. And, as if the silence was what kept the darkness around, it flees soon after the woman's voice — velvet and upbeat — joins the chorus, revealing crimson hues, snow white waves, and a smile that stretched a tad too wide to be considered comforting.
"Hehe.. I knew I heard someone come in," Their voice gave little away to their age or gender their dainty androgyny so carefully hid. It also seemed overly cheery and, quite frankly, out of place. Like seeing an infant giggling and skipping by an unfortunate accident.
"Welcome! Good to see a new face around here!" They said, so brazenly throwing out, "The name's Juuzou Suzuya! I've been runnin' this little art shop with a good friend of mine for a while now! It's so nice to see a new face!"
He extends his hand without a second thought and, as if on queue, the remaining bit of the darkness fades, revealing bland walls painted haphazardly in splotches of colorful droplets of paint, large paintings that couldn't have come from anyone other than a small child's imagination with it's overly bold colors and imagery. The feeling that emerged from you at such a bewildering sight sunk down to the bottom of your gut like a rock to a lake. The best way to describe the feeling that's coursing through would be to compare it to the feeling of watching a little girl laugh herself to tears at the sight of her parents' rotting corpses; random, out of place, and unnervingly odd.
Large, white canvas sit on their sides and lean against one another unevenly along the walls. Paint buckets of varying colors, tarps, and the like decorate their sides. It cluttered the small space the room had, but also gave it life with its messiness.
You return your gaze to who'sin front of you and you catch the person staring, perfectly frozen like a still shot jmage as they patiently wait for your hand to slip into theirs. The voided darkness that fills the middle of their crimson irises don't give off the same vibe as the rest of their body, but you don't dare wait to try and decipher the unspoken message swimming in them as you finally reach out to give their hand a firm shake.
A trap — you realize it a second too late when you fail to pull your hand away afterwards. Your eyes shoot back up, your visage noticeably alarmed. Their smile widens impossibly.
"It's been so long since we've had a guest — I should do something special to celebrate the occasion! Hmm...a performance, maybe? My props are around here somewhere.. Oh! Why don't you come with me? I have a feeling you'll be coming back here much more in the future so it's good to become familiar with the place!"
More giggles fill the tense air that only seemed to weigh on you as your excitable host forced you to follow after them, leading you through a door towards the back of the small shop where warm light bleeds into every corner..
"This is Ari's study! Most days, she keeps herself cooped up in here to read and write. She's what you'd call a recluse and since she does all the heavy-lifting from the shadows, it's not often that she's around to say hey to our customers — especially the new faces that roll in here."
"..What does she like to write? Lots of stuff! Wanna see? ..Heh, don't worry. I'll make sure this place looks like we never came in here — now, c'mere! I wanna show you my favorites from her collection! Starting with the manga and shows!"
Demon Slayer | Tokyo Ghoul | The Case Study of Vanitas | Yona of the Dawn | Alien Stage | Miscellaneous
"Aaaaand over there is where she keeps all the written works about the video games she likes to play. If it wasn't obvious, she has a thing for story-driven games rather than action. 'Kinda boring if you ask me."
Genshin Impact | Omori | Danganronpa | Sally Face | Honkai Star Rail | Twisted Wonderland | Miscellaneous
"Over there's where she keeps the other stuff she writes and just on the other side of that bookshelf is a secret passageway that leads you to a secret room. I can't really let you in on that little secret of hers, but if you're really curious, you can always try asking her whenever you run into her to show you where it leads. ...Ah, but I'm getting sidetracked. We should get out of here before Ari gets back."
"Before we continue the tour, I have to make sure you read this copy that talks about our shop's rules and FAQ. It's really important you take our rules to heart so that we won't have to deal with you for accidentally breaking one of them later. ...Hm? What would happened then? Hehe, that's for me to know and you to hopefully never find out! Now, get to reading. The faster you finish, the quicker I can get back to showing you around our humble abode."
Rules
Please refrain from being rude to the other guests! You can be impolite towards me all you want, but I will not tolerate such behavior towards any of my visitors. I mean it — no fighting allowed!
Please do not interact with me if you apply to anything on this Basic DNI Criteria List.
Please do no save, copy, or repost the commissions I post of my ocs.
Please do not attempt to dm me if we aren't mutuals or don't talk a lot. I will delete your message and if you continue to try and talk to me via dms, I will block you.
All blank blogs will be blocked without question! Please at least either have a pfp or a post under your blog so I don't accidentally mistake you as a bot!
FAQ/Frequently Asked Questions
Are your requests open? Do you have any specific rules regarding requests?
Yes, my requests are always open unless stated otherwise! Furthermore, you can find my rules here!
Do you have a taglist?
Yes! You can find it here! The link will also appear at the beginning of all my written works for even easier access!
Any specific tags I may need to know about?
Any important news about this little shop of ours ( ex. hiatuses, events, blog changes, etc. ) will be labeled under the tag 𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓼 𝓷' 𝓬𝓻𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓼!
How do I become a ghost customer ( aka an emoji anon )?
Just let me know via inbox! You can throw it in with your request if you have one too! Simply specify what emoji you want to represent you and continue to interact with me under such alias!
Can we be moots/become mutuals?
You needn't ask. If we hit it off and I feel comfortable enough to consider you a friend, I'll follow you.
Any specific quirks I need to watch out for?
I absolutely love referring to people — whether they're a mutual, follower, or simply someone I like to chat with through inbox/comment exchanges — using nicknames and petnames! I also tend to use emojis/emoticons/memes to express myself and emphasize my words! 🖤
"Done reading already? Alright! Let's move on then!"
"..Huh? That sign looks a bit out of place? Ari made it to outlines our sponsors. She cleans that thing just about everyday so it's no wonder it sticks out like a sore thumb in here."
"Hm...? Who're our sponsors? Real' nice people, lemme tell ya! They always bring tasty snacks and fun times whenever they visit. Our shop wouldn't be as big as it is if it weren't for them so if you ever happen to meet them make sure to be extra polite, alright?"
As of right now, I'm currently affiliated/an official member of the @stellaronhvnters and @d1strict99, two really cool sfw networks where writers & artists come together and write, bond, and have fun over their shared love for hoyoverse games and various other fandoms!
"Do we run any other places like this? Ari does! What were they again..? ..uh..."
Though I'm most active on Tumblr, my old wattpad account is still up and I have an AO3 account as well! On Wattpad, I wrote for stuff like Genshin Impact, Demon Slayer, AssClass, and Omori whilst my AO3 is mainly being used as backup storage of already posted works here. Feel free to check either out if you want.
"You want to know more about us? ..Hehe, well there's not much to say about me, but regarding Ari.."
My last name is inspired by the main character of one of my favorite childhood shows, Yugioh Zexal. His name is Yuma Tsukumo! If you're having trouble reading my username, it's pronounced Ah-ree ( Ari ) Soo-keh-moh ( Tsukemo ).
I once believed I was under the aromantic spectrum but after years of self-discussion, I realized that I'm very much panromantic/pansexual. Also, for anyone wondering, my pronouns are she/her but I don't care if you don't refer to me as such as many have referred to me in They/Them and even He/Him pronouns. Whatever rolls off the tongue best for you is what I'm cool with.
My favorite characters as of right now consist of Juuzou Suzuya, Lilia Vanrouge, Riddle Rosehearts, Epel Felmier, Ortho Shroud, Mitsuri Kanroji, The Tokito Twins, Shinobu Kocho, Ciel Phantomhive, Venti, Durin, Till, and Luka!
My birthday is July 15th, making me a Cancer!
My current favorite artists are Ashnikko, Billie Eilish, Alec Benjamin, Sabrina Carpenter, Chase Atlantic, Doechii, Megan Thee Stallion, and Laufey!
"And that brings us to end of our tour! Now, if you'll excuse me...huh? What about the performance? There was supposed to be a performance? ..Hm.. Anyways, I'm hungry. You'll join me for lunch, won't you? We can get to know each other more — c'mon!"
Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx and @romaritimeharbor
I’m ngl, I’m gonna need like 3,000 more writings about twst, it’s never enough and your writing is TOO in character! Please, idk what I’ll do without you
If you're trying to butter me up, know that it's working BAHAHAHA-
Will you ever do more of the single father chronicles
AHHHH SORRY FOR THE LATE REPLY ANON!! Post grad life has been bustling and hectic to say the least..
For a short answer, yes I do, but likely not in the near future! 😌
For a longer answer, I'm determined to specifically write a part for our boy Cay Cay, but the problem is...I have no idea how to write for him..
That said, I've only managed to get about 10% of his part done since the release of our dear boy Riddle embarrassingly enough 💔 BUUUUT!! I'm determined to see his part through til the end so no worries, another part is coming 😼
I'm officially done with high school guys!! 🙌 Thank FUCK because that place was literal hell-
On another note, I binged watched basically the entirety of Tamon B-Side ( save for the last two episodes which I'll likely watch tonight ) and it's sooooo fucking good!!! Like I've had such a blast it's so fucking funny 💀 I love Tamon and Uta's dynamic, my cuties 🥹
Found your blog whilst scrolling down the rabbit hole that is the riddle rosehearts x reader tag and I must say, your writing style is really unique as is your blog! I've never quite found a place like this one and it's honestly so cool and inspiring so keep up the amazing work dearie 🥰
Secondly, could I request riddle rosehearts x blind kitsune!reader ( male or gender neutral preferably ) that has odd behavior patterns and performs body stitching on themselves?
For context, they're from Briar Valley and are apart of Heartslabyul. They're a kitsune which are a rare mix of a half human, half fae, and half fox ( so fox appearance traits like fox ears and multiple tails, human lifespan and body, and fae attributes like inhumane strength, speed, fangs, etc ). Their kind is known for being on the more eccentric side on the personality scale and even bordering creepy despite their illusively innocent and pretty appearance. They have great magic reserve and tend to be tricksters and mischievous.
They're like a physical embodiment of the choas of Alice In Wonderland and can do things like detach parts of their body ( and tend to do it at random and throw them around — especially their head — like a ball ), morph individual parts of their body into different things, bend into odd positions since they're overly flexible, can manipulate blue fire, etc.
Their body stitching loops around their body and they can take them out with ease like ripping thread from a sleeve and can weave them back in with a needle ( no blood or anything grotesque, but still unnerving to watch ). They have high pain tolerance so they even feel it and tend to weave cool patterns into their skin.
Their heightened senses help with their blindness but there are rare times that they get disoriented and overwhelmed which leads them to bumping into things and people which can result in them getting seriously hurt. ( They don't really care about the pain but it scares the living hell out of their few friends and boyfriend )
I'd love to see how Riddle deals with a lover like that and how he manages them because on top of all that they're really touch-hungry and love to give him physical affection like hugs and kiss, uncaring of what others think.
Whether you do my request or not, thank you for reading this and I hope you have a fantastic day 🫶
[TWST] ━ ．°˖✧ Riddle Rose-Hearts ˚₊ ⊹ x Kitsune! Reader
Contains: Blind! reader, kitune, mythology, teatime, heartslabyul rules, body falling apart, fluff, Decapitation, sewing, random ass behaviour
A/N: I'm so happy with the amount of information you gave me! I love detailed requests and I tried to plan on what would match so I hope you enjoy these! I think I might or forgot the blind part… oops…
Summary: Riddle rosehearts dating kitsune!reader that has odd behaviour patterns and performs body stitching on themselves?
╰┈➤⸝⸝★ Twisted Wonderland୭ ˚.
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Rules Were Never Written for Creatures Like You
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ There were precisely three hundred and forty-seven officially recorded rules governing Heartslabyul’s afternoon tea ceremonies, each written in immaculate script, memorized to the letter, and enforced with unwavering severity
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle knew them all by heart. He had recited them in his sleep, corrected others on them mid-sentence, and on more than one occasion rewritten them when ink smudges offended his sensibilities and yet, as he stood frozen in the rose garden, teacup hovering uselessly inches from his lips, he came to the slow, dreadful realization that none of those rules accounted for the current situation
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Your head was rolling across the grass. It bumped gently against a table leg, spun once as if reconsidering its trajectory, then came to a neat stop directly at his boots
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Your expression was bright, unfocused eyes staring vaguely skyward, lips curved in an easy, content smile as though this were the most natural conclusion to teatime conversation. Behind him, porcelain rattled as someone sharply inhaled. Riddle did not look away. He could not. His mind raced through the rulebook in a desperate, methodical panic Rule 98: posture, Rule 134: silence during the Housewarden’s address, Rule 212: remaining seated at all times but nothing, nothing, mentioned voluntary dismembermen
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ “…Rule Two Hundred Twelve,” Riddle said finally, voice strained so tightly it bordered on cracking, “states that all attendees must remain properly seated during tea.” Your body, still sitting primly in its chair several feet away, tilted slightly. One fox ear flicked, multiple tails swaying lazily behind you as blue flame licked the air around your neck in a slow, decorative spiral. “Mm,” you hummed thoughtfully, sound echoing oddly without a head. “Does it specify all parts?”
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle swallowed as He looked down again at your head. You were smiling wider now, clearly delighted by his distress. “Is it decapitation,” you continued cheerfully, voice drifting up from the stone beneath his feet, “if it’s temporary?” He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again “…The rulebook does not specify,” he admitted weakly “Loophole,” you said happily rolling your head around in a circle giggling
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle bent down with all the stiffness of a man whose soul was actively trying to escape his body. He lifted your head with gloved hands, handling you as carefully as if you were a priceless antique or a highly volatile magical artifact. You leaned into his touch immediately, cheek pressing against his palm, blind eyes soft, tails giving an affectionate swish that stirred the rose petals nearby
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ “Please,” he said, barely holding onto his composure, “reattach yourself. We’ve discussed this. At length.” “But you were stressed,” you replied gently, nuzzling into his hand. “Your heartbeat was fast. Detaching helps.” “It does not help,” he snapped automatically, though his grip betrayed him, thumb brushing your cheek with unconscious tenderness
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You kissed the leather of his glove, light and unapologetic. Riddle’s entire face flushed crimson. He carried your head back toward your waiting body, pointedly ignoring the way several Heartslabyul students had suddenly found the hedges fascinating
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Trey had already excused himself with a vague comment about needing more sugar cubes, clearly sensing danger. Once aligned, you popped your head neatly back into place with a soft click, threads of shimmering blue stitchwork loosening and tightening as if alive
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You retrieved a needle from thin air, humming as you gently unraveled and re-wove the stitches looping across your collarbone and ribs. The motion was smooth, practiced no blood, no pain, only the faint glimmer of magic and the unsettling intimacy of watching skin part and seal like fabric. You even embroidered tiny rose patterns this time, clearly to match the dorm aesthetic
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle squeezed his eyes shut “…You promised,” he said through clenched teeth, “that you wouldn’t do that in public anymore.” “I promised I wouldn’t do it during Unbirthday Celebrations,” you corrected mildly. “This is standard tea.” He paused. Thought. Grimaced. “…That is my fault,” he muttered
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You took full advantage of his concession, immediately closing the distance and wrapping your arms around his waist, tails curling around his legs with familiar possessiveness. Touch was how you oriented yourself how you navigated space, emotion, him. When your heightened senses failed or overwhelmed you, physical contact anchored you back to the present
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle stiffened for a heartbeat out of habit. Then he sighed and melted into it, one careful hand settling against your back. His fingers brushed over the seams of stitching that looped across your shoulders and spine, tracing them with unconscious familiarity
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ He knew these patterns now. Knew which tightened when you were anxious, which loosened when you were content. Knew how your magic hummed softly when you leaned into him like this “Your heartbeat’s still fast,” you murmured. “Because you nearly fell apart again,” he snapped, though there was no heat left in it
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ “And yet,” you said, smiling as you tilted your head toward him, “you caught me when I lost my bearings yesterday.” He had. Without thinking. Magic flaring instinctively as you stumbled, disoriented by too many sounds and scents at once. You hadn’t even noticed the fall. You never did
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle had noticed enough for both of you. “I don’t mind your… eccentricities,” he said quietly at last, adjusting his hold when you swayed. “But I need you to be more careful. You get hurt. And you don’t react. It-” His voice faltered. “It frightens people.” You reached up, fingers brushing his cheek until you found him. “I notice you,” you said softly. “That’s enough for me.”
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ His breath hitched. Color flooded his face. “That- that isn’t appropriate public behavior-" You kissed him anyway. Brief. Sweet. Unashamed. Somewhere, a teacup shattered and a loud "THE HOUSEWARDEN CAN PULL?" "Shut up Ace"
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle cleared his throat sharply, turning away to mask his expression. “There will be new rules,” he declared, voice regaining its authority through sheer force of will. “Regarding your… safety.” You hummed, pleased. “How many?” “…Five,” he said after a moment. “To start.”
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You laughed, foxlike and bright, blue fire flickering warmly around you as you leaned your forehead against his. “I’ll break at least three.” “I’m aware,” Riddle sighed but he laced his fingers with yours anyway, steady and warm, guiding you back to your seat with careful precision.
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ And for once against all odds tea time continued without further dismemberment... Mostly
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ When you started dating Riddle learned very quickly that walking beside you required a kind of attentiveness he had never needed before
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You moved with confidence most days head tilted just so, ears twitching as sound and scent mapped the world for you but there were moments when the noise of Heartslabyul became too much. Teacups clinking, students chatting, hedges rustling in the breeze, magic humming faintly beneath it all. In those moments, your steps faltered, gait skewing half a second off, and Riddle would already be reaching for you before you realized anything was wrong
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ The first time it happened, you walked directly into a rose trellis, thorny vines biting into your shoulder hard enough to tear fabric. You laughed it off, fingers already slipping under your collar to pull loose the stitches there, humming as though mending yourself were no more alarming than fixing a loose button
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle, meanwhile, had gone terrifyingly quiet. His hands shook as he gently but firmly guided your fingers away from the torn seam, magic flaring as he cast a protective barrier around you without even realizing it
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ “You will not repair yourself like that without warning,” he said, voice brittle with something dangerously close to fear. “There should be- there must be- some system. A rule.” You blinked, head tilting as you listened to his heartbeat thunder. “For getting hurt?” “For preventing it,” he snapped, then stopped, swallowing. “And for… notifying me.”
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ That was how it started. Small things. You learned to tap his wrist twice when you felt disoriented. He learned the exact pressure needed to guide you without startling you
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle every now and then helps you re-stitch yourself
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ The dorm was quiet in the late evening, bathed in the warm amber glow of candlelight when Riddle found you sitting cross-legged on his bed, tails draped lazily over the edge
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Your dorm uniform lay folded nearby, skin beneath it patterned with half-finished stitchwork spiraling down your arm. You hadn’t realized he’d entered until he spoke “…Why are you unraveling yourself?” You paused, needle hovering. “The thread was too tight,” you said calmly. “It pulls when I breathe.”
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ Riddle approached slowly, heart hammering as he knelt in front of you. Watching you take yourself apart was still something he struggled with no rulebook had prepared him for the helplessness of it but he had learned not to shout. Learned that calm steadied you better than command “May I?” he asked quietly, gesturing to the needle
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ You hesitated only a moment before placing it in his gloved palm. Riddle’s movements were careful, almost reverent, as he followed the lines of your magic-woven thread. His brow furrowed in concentration, tongue pressing lightly against his lip as he rewove the stitch looser, gentler. He murmured under his breath counting, correcting, perfecting not out of obligation, but care
━━━ ．°˖✧ 🌹 ˚₊ ⊹ “You trust me,” he said softly, more statement than question. “With my body,” you replied, smiling. “And my balance. And my heart.” His hands stilled for a moment “…That is an unacceptable amount of responsibility,” he muttered, though his voice trembled. You laughed and leaned forward, forehead resting against his. “You’re doing fine.”
AHHHHH I'M SO MAD THAT I'M JUST NOW SEEING THIS 💔 THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR COMPLETING THIS HOLY SMOKES DID YOU COOK-
You managed to perfectly encapsulate the absolute yap sesh that was my request ( hey that rhymed— *smack* ) Seriously, you blew this outta the park!!!!!
Riddle's reaction to 90% of the shit Reader pulls because they're doing everything and nothing wrong at the same time:
Hello Hello!! 🖤 Been reading your scenarios/drabbles on and off for a few days now and I've been having such a blast!!
If possible, may I request Diasomnia + Riddle, Ruggie, and Kalim with a Kitsune!reader who's very clingy with them?
Like, for a certain period of time after falling in love, reader's kind tends to get severely touch-starved/gain this intense urge to be around their partner 24/7. Most tend to avoid getting romantically involved with kitsune folk because of this becauae it can be very exhausting to deal with.
The scenario I envisioned was how they'd deal with reader being glued to them at the hip and stealing their attention/drowning them in affection, but if you'd like to write something more angsty, another idea of mine was for reader to become really down and reserved after trying to repress their urges outta fear that they'll scare off the twst boys.
Whatever you decide to go with, I'll be thankful regardless!! 😌 I thank you in advance and, whether you end up completing this request or not, I bid you a wonderful day/evening/night!! 🖤
Them with a very clingyKitsune!reader
Featuring: Riddle Rosehearts, Ruggie Bucchi, Kalim Al Asim, and Diasomnia dorm.
A/N: this is actually my first time writing for Ruggie Lilia and Silver, hope I didn't completely mischaracterize them ahah........ Gulp,,,,,
Riddle Rosehearts
at first, riddle genuinely thinks he can handle it through structure alone. you're clingy? then clearly there must be a reasonable balance to maintain. he tries to organize time for studying, time for responsibilities, and time for you - except the problem is that your affection does not arrive in neat little scheduled pieces. it's constant. you're beside him whenever possible, leaning against his shoulder while he works, wrapping your arms around him from behind while he's trying to read, quietly asking for attention with those tired, longing eyes whenever he spends too long focused on something else. and the worst part is that he notices very quickly that denying you makes something in your expression dim. you pull away too fast, apologize too much, pretend you are fine when you clearly are not.
riddle tries to maintain composure about it at first, but over time he starts adjusting unconsciously. his study sessions become places where you are allowed to sit pressed against his side. his irritation when interrupted weakens significantly if the interruption is you. he starts reaching for you without thinking, fingers brushing against your sleeve or hand almost automatically, because he realizes your tension eases the moment he does. if you ever try to repress it out of fear of overwhelming him, though, that's when he truly becomes unsettled. the sudden distance feels wrong immediately. he notices how carefully you stop touching him, how your ears (if you have them) droop slightly, how your voice loses warmth every time you say "it's fine." and despite all his usual strictness, he can't tolerate it for long. eventually he corners you into an honest conversation, flustered and frustrated all at once, insisting that if something is bothering you, you should say it directly instead of suffering quietly. when you finally admit the truth, he goes silent for a long moment before taking your hand himself, awkward but deliberate. "...i never said you were a burden, my rose." he says quietly. "so stop deciding that for me."
Ruggie Bucchi
ruggie notices the clinginess almost immediately, mostly because there's suddenly not a single moment of peace where you're not attached to him somehow. at first he thinks it's funny. you follow him around with your tail (iiif you have one) brushing against him, curl up beside him whenever he sits down for more than five seconds, cling to his arm like it's the most natural thing in the world. he teases you constantly about it too, grinning every time you get needy for attention. "seriously? ya gonna die if i leave for ten minutes?" but underneath the joking, he adapts frighteningly fast.
that's why he notices immediately when you start holding yourself back. suddenly you stop leaning against him. stop asking to stay close. stop curling around him when he rests. and ruggie hates it instantly. he tries joking about it at first, asking where his "little shadow" went, but when you only laugh weakly and say you're trying not to be annoying, the humor drops almost immediately. because beneath all the teasing, ruggie knows what it feels like to believe your needs are "too much" for people. so instead of letting you retreat, he becomes even more physically affectionate on purpose. he throws an arm over your shoulders, drags you down beside him when he lounges around after school hours, flicks your forehead whenever you start apologizing too much. "quit overthinking it" he mutters one day while pulling you against his side like it is obvious. "if i was sick of ya, you would know already"
Kalim Al-asim
kalim absolutely adores it. like, from the very beginning, he's genuinely delighted by how affectionate you are. you want to be near him all the time? great! he wants to be near you too. you cling to his sleeve while he talks? he beams. you crawl into his space just for attention? he immediately gives it to you. unlike some people, kalim never treats your need for affection like something inconvenient, which honestly makes the whole situation worse in the best way possible because now your instincts associate him with comfort even more strongly. he is incredibly physically affectionate naturally, so the relationship becomes a constant cycle of mutual attachment where neither of you really sees the issue.
which is exactly why he becomes so confused and upset when you suddenly start withdrawing. he notices almost instantly because your affection has become part of his routine. the absence of it feels very loud. at first he thinks something is wrong, that maybe you're upset with him, and when you nervously admit that you were trying not to overwhelm him anymore, his expression falls completely. "overwhelm me?" he repeats, sounding genuinely confused by the idea. then immediately after: "but i like when you stay closeeee!" there's no hesitation in it either. no uncertainty. if anything, kalim starts becoming clingier back after that conversation, almost like he's trying to prove you never needed to hold yourself back in the first place. he drapes himself over you during downtime, seeks you out constantly, and happily announces your relationship to anyone with ears while keeping you tucked close beside him the entire time.
Malleus Draconia
malleus handles your clinginess with an almost startling level of patience. perhaps because, for someone like him, being wanted so openly and instinctively feels deeply precious rather than inconvenient. he does notice the intensity of it, of course. the way you drift toward him constantly, the way your tail (if you have one) flick anxiously whenever he leaves for too long, the almost unconscious need you have to remain in contact with him somehow. but he never mocks it or pulls away from it. instead, he accepts it with quiet ease, allowing you to linger close while he reads, resting a hand against your back when he notices your restlessness increasing, treating your affection as something natural rather than excessive.
however, malleus is also frighteningly observant when it comes to emotional shifts. so the moment you begin repressing yourself, he notices. the absence of your affection changes the atmosphere around him immediately. where there was once warmth and constant movement, now there's hesitation. distance. and for someone as emotionally isolated as malleus has often been, he feels that loss sharply. one evening, after noticing you stop yourself from reaching for him yet again, he quietly asks why. when you try to brush it off, he doesn't allow the conversation to fade. instead he gently pulls you closer himself, one hand resting against your cheek while he studies your expression carefully. "you fear becoming unwanted." he realizes softly, and there's something deeply saddened in his voice when he says it. after that, he becomes even more openly reassuring, inviting your closeness rather than merely accepting it, making it very clear through both words and actions that your presence beside him is something he treasures.
Lilia Vanrouge
lilia thinks your clinginess is adorable almost immediately, though in typical lilia fashion, he also finds it incredibly entertaining. he absolutely encourages it at first just to see how flustered you get when he gives the affection back twice as intensely. if you curl around him while he's sitting somewhere, he will casually pull you fully into his lap without warning. if you trail after him constantly, he starts teasingly referring to you as his "little fox spirit." but beneath the humor, there's genuine tenderness in the way he handles you. unlike many people, lilia never seems exhausted by your need for closeness. if anything, he understands it better than you expect. there's an old loneliness in him that recognizes your desire to stay near the person you love.
that is why your withdrawal affects him more seriously than people would assume. at first he notices the missing affection like a joke falling flat, but the longer it continues, the quieter he becomes around you. eventually he corners you somewhere private, expression softer than usual as he asks why you keep pulling away from him whenever your instincts clearly want the opposite. when you admit your fears, lilia actually looks a little heartbroken for a moment. then he sighs dramatically and pulls you against him anyway. "my dear," he murmurs, smoothing a hand through your hair "if i truly disliked your affection, do you think i would still be here indulging it every day?" after that, he becomes very intentional about initiating affection first, almost like he's trying to retrain you out of feeling guilty for wanting closeness.
Silver Vanrouge
silver adapts to your clinginess more naturally than almost anyone else. he's already calm, physically affectionate in subtle ways, and very used to quiet companionship, so your constant need to stay near him does not disturb him nearly as much as you fear it might. if anything, he finds your presence comforting. you leaning against him while he rests, holding onto his sleeve while walking beside him, curling around him when he falls asleep somewhere unexpected— all of it settles into his routine with surprising ease. silver is'nt overly expressive, but he responds consistently every single time, always making space for you beside him without hesitation.
which is why your attempts to suppress it worry him deeply. silver notices patterns quickly, especially in people he cares about, and the sudden absence of your touch feels immediately unnatural. he starts quietly seeking you out instead, sitting closer than usual, gently taking your hand when he notices you hesitating. eventually, when you finally admit you were scared of exhausting him, silver looks genuinely confused. "but i like it when you are near me." he says simply, like the answer should have been obvious all along. there's no frustration in his response, only soft concern that you spent so long carrying that fear by yourself. afterward, he becomes more quietly proactive about affection, always the first to close the distance whenever he notices you doubting yourself again.
Sebek Zigvolt
sebek handles the situation... loudly. at first, your clinginess completely destroys his ability to function normally. every time you cling to his arm, seek out his attention, or press yourself against him affectionately, he short-circuits instantly. his face goes bright red, his voice gets louder, and he starts stammering about "improper conduct" while very obviously not pushing you away. he complains constantly, insisting that he cannot focus properly when you are attached to him all the time, but everyone around him notices very quickly that he becomes significantly calmer the moment you stop.
because despite all the yelling, sebek grows extremely accustomed to your affection. he starts expecting your presence beside him. listening for your footsteps. feeling oddly restless when you are not nearby. so when you begin withdrawing out of guilt, it unsettles him far more deeply than he wants to admit. at first he gets frustrated, demanding to know why you are suddenly avoiding him, but once he realizes the truth, his reaction becomes almost painfully sincere. "you thought... i did not want you here?" he asks, sounding genuinely wounded by the idea. afterward, his affection becomes much more direct despite his embarrasment. he still gets flustered constantly, still raises his voice too much, but he also starts openly asking you to stay near him instead of pretending your closeness bothers him at all.
Summary: A poor joke leads to your boyfriend showering you in what he sees as some much needed affection.
Warnings: Reader is a beastman, but it's unspecified what kind. Furthermore, reader internally cringes at affection/finds shows of affection embarrassing and reacts semi-negatively to such ( but they're right where they wanna be at the same time ). Finally, reader's gender is unspecified so you can imagine them as female, male, or gender neutral ( whatever you see fit basically ). With that said, happy reading to all!
A/N: In the final stretch of high school so apologies for my inactivity lately 😅 Currently packed and ready for vacay, but wanted to finish and post this first since me and the rest of D99 staff spent a lotta time on this event and I'm very proud of what we've accomplished together! 🥹
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Event: GOTTA LOVE THEM ALL!
"When did you get this one?" was the question softly raised as perfectly-clipped nails lightly dragged along a straight, darkened line that ran across your skin, firmly separating where your cheek ended and your jawline began.
"Hm…?" the question barely registered at first, for you had found yourself more distracted by the hand carding through your hair and the heated weight halfway atop of you…that was until said hand left your hair — and right before it could brush against your animal ears.
Your eyes opened immediately, but the sight before you causes the sudden spike of irritation melt away in an instant; pretty ruby eyes, sparkling with curiosity and way too much worry for something as meager as a scar. It prompts you into breaking the oh so rare silence that had fallen between you two.
"It's nothin' serious," you started, panning only your eyes to the side as you were too comfortable to be bothered to move your whole head to look at him.
"Just a flesh wound. I'm surprised its even still visible."
"How did you get it though?" was the golden question you couldn't seem to evade — not that there was any real story behind it.
"Spelldrive practice," you finally answered, "Things got intense when everybody got into their grooves and someone got a little rough with their toss. I wasn't fast enough in dodgin' it and got this pretty little number on my cheek as a reward."
Now it's Kalim's turn to hum, seemingly satisfied with your answer as he didn't push further. That didn't stop him from running his hand along the mark, however.
In a way, he seemed almost entranced by it; drawing shapes around it with his touch ever so featherlight. You usually didn't mind him doing it, no matter the time of day or the place, but something about this setting — the dimmed lights, the breath-mixing proximity, the uncharacteristically intimate and prolonged silence that came with hands all over your skin — made your stomach flutter and, in a way, made you feel kind of shy.
And so, in an attempt to escape such a flustering feeling before it could spread across your face and turn the situation unbearably awkward, you begin running your mouth like water in a faucet that's been switched on.
"I know it's ugly," you commented, your lips quirking into a smirk, "but don't worry, come mornin', I'll do whatever I can to make it fade quickly so I can be more presentable for ya', pretty boy."
It was meant to come off joking, teasing, and overall unserious — simply something to steal laughter from his lips or even get a little blood rushing to his light-brown skin — but your reply was given silence, which unfortunately turned the previous atmosphere awkward regardless when Kalim prolonged his silence.
You crack an eye open and peer over once again, only to then open both eyes fully when you catch the sight of something truly unexpected; jutted out lips, furrowed brows, and a disapproving look.
"Are you pou—" "Your scar isn't ugly!"
You wince and tilt your head away from, the deafening exclamation making your face scrunch with discomfort. Kalim seems to catch on quickly — to your very obvious pain at the very least — and his regret is instantaneous.
"I'm sorry!" he tells you in an octave less ear-splitting, but still much too loud for your liking. His hand that once played in your scalp now coming up there again to scratch apologetically at your fur ears — which twitched irately under his touch. It made him feel even worse for his sudden outburst, but didn't seem to dissuade him from speaking the rest of his mind.
"The scar doesn't make you ugly," he reiterated, "Nothing in this world could ever make you ugly.. Not if you gained or lost weight, not if you changed how you styled your hair or wore your clothes — I'll always find you perfect and love you with every ounce of my heart!"
"You could gain a million scars and it wouldn't change a thing! You'd still be absolutely radiant to me — no, I'd probably find you even more gorgeous!" he continues, and at this point, your face is beginning to burn from his onslaught assault of affirmations. It's then, flustered from both embarrassment and endearment ( but mainly embarrassment ), that you slap a hand over his mouth to silence him.
"Dude, I was joking! Chill out!" you told him, but quickly find yourself regretting speaking when you heard your own voice and it reminded you of a squeaky chew toy.
You wished nothing more than to crawl in a hole and bury yourself alive now.
With his words and your whiny voice replaying in your head like a bad memory, you turn on your side with a huff as first-hand embarrassment rips through you…which ultimately meant that you had to remove your hand from your boyfriend's mouth to do so.
And — just like your boyfriend Kalim Al-Asim would — instead of taking the hint, he sits up even more and slides closer, twisting a bit as he leans over you and plants his hand down firmly onto your pillow by your head to keep himself propped up.
He's hovering above now. Staring down at you with stupidly soft eyes that were capable of making an entire herd swoon, you were sure.
You avoid his gaze and bit your lip, fearing what emotion your face may give away and what your mouth may further humiliate you with if you let it open once more. Alas, that seemed to only urge Kalim closer and prompt him into apologizing again.
"I'm sorry, please don't be mad," is what he tells you, voice thick with velvet remorse, "but I hate hearing you talk down to yourself like that.."
That should've been the end of it. Should've been the moment Kalim leaned away and laid back down on his side of the bed and curled up into your back. Should've been the moment you were allowed a much-needed break to finally deal with the deep swirl of mortification that came from Kalim's sudden adulation…but, as Kalim finally closed the distance between you and him and planted a kiss right atop that scar he'd been tracing earlier, you groan as you realize that this was only the beginning of this torture.
"I really like you, and even before we got together, I admired you a lot," he confessed in a low murmur as he moved upwards to plant his lips on another, more permanent scar near your eyebrow; a result of roughhousing with your friends sometime during your childhood.
"I always thought you were really cool — and all your scars were part of that reason. I used to think, 'wow, they look really tough!'"
"Kali', please…" you begged. Your hands coming up to hide your face — that was definitely blazing at this point — from him. It's then that Kalim makes his way down south; kissing a tiny, light mark blemishing your nape before moving even lower down to kiss an oddly-shaped scar on your shoulder joint.
Then, at long last, he relents — giggling without a care as if he hadn't nearly sent you into cardiac arrest.
"Okay, okay, I'll stop.." he leans all his weight atop of you, his head falling on your chest where he sighs almost dreamily. Drinking in your body heat and the beats of your heart, as if he were close to dying without it.
"Sorry for getting a little carried away."
You can do nothing but huff.
"A 'little' carried away doesn't even begin to describe what that was.." you grumbled, but as you removed your hands from your aflame face, you found your irritation extinguishing as quickly as a poorly-lit flame — for Kalim looked as though he could die happy from merely being snuggled up so closely to you.
It was truly pathetic, but damn, did he manage make pathetic look freaking cute.
You huff again. One of these days, this loser is going to seriously kill you.
Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx
mic test, mic test, mic test... WELCOME TO DISCTRICT 99 !! a network focused on creating events and building a community of writers. we welcome creators from various fandoms, including but not limited to hyv games, jjk, l&ds, haikyuu, bsd, and alnst.
WHY CHOOSE US ?! (pick us, choose us, love us)
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district 99 is a supportive, inclusive, and drama-free zone. we believe in uplifting each other and creating a welcoming space for all writers and fandom enjoyers :))
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we're not just about posting—our admins and members are here to support you! get feedback, hype, and constructive comments on your work from fellow writers who genuinely care about your growth.
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WRITER OF THE MONTH, or what we call, the WOM(P)². this is given to writers who had excellent performance during the month. those who went above and beyond with their craft, showed remarkable dedication on their works, and who stood out. respective awards / gifts will be given to them as a way of appreciation to what they are doing.
WRITING EVENTS. we have events scheduled at least every month, aligning with holidays such as halloween, christmas, and valentine's day. awards are given to the selected writers who have participated and posted their works, and have excelled in their chosen categories (one-shots, headcanons, and drabbles). this is not a competition but rather a celebration of creativity and expression.
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BUT WAIT, WHAT EVEN IS HAPPENING IN THE SERVER?!
we have the same question too! we currently have...
001. D99 CAMPING IN VC where anything and everything happens ! body doubling sessions, movie marathons (where we spam the chat 'im scared'), and even just to chat or keep each other company ; we constantly try to break the record everytime okay...
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interested? read the rules and make sure that you understand them. ready to join now? look forward to the announcement.
"Sorry, you're just really pretty — what were you saying?" Feat. The First Years
Summary: How do the first years react to you telling them that you were distracted by their beauty?
Warnings: Nothing much, just that reader's gender is not specified so you can see them as fem, male, or gn! Flustered boys ahead!!! With that said, happy reading! <33
A/N: As promised, here's the poll winner!! Thank you all for helping me out! ( And for the options that lost, don't worry, I plan to write for them if the motivation strikes me to again! )
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Ace Trappola
He had come to Ramshackle after getting collared by Riddle, and as always, was ranting your ears off about the whole ordeal and how insufferable it was to deal with his housewarden.
"It was late, I was tired — plus its not like I didn't brush my teeth at all, y'know?!" he blustered. His hands wildly flying around him as he further enunciated his anger with hand gestures powered by frustration.
"And- And, it was completely ridiculous how he even found out about me breaking that stupid rule! Like, what do you mean my teeth only looked as 'white as one round of brushing would make it'?! What does that even mean?!"
"Mmhm," you hummed — something you had been doing since he had plopped himself on your bed and began his retelling of what happened — which the redhead had noticed and didn't seem to take too kindly.
"Hey, are you even listening to me?!" he exclaimed, his arms crossing in an exasperated manner and the edges of his ruby eyes twitching at its corners as he asks in a rather accusatory manner, "You haven't, have you?"
You blink. the sudden spotlight thrown on you forcing you back to reality. Ace is angrily glaring daggers at you right now, and you can practically see the imaginary steam wafting from his fuming being.
How could you not admit your thoughts at this point?
"Sorry," you tell him, "You're just really hot when you're mad like this. Please, continue."
"I knew it! I knew you weren't...wait, huh?" he pauses, mouth open with his complaint caught on his tongue like a mouse in a mousetrap. Expression frozen in place as if it had been caught by a camera.
You raise an eyebrow, "Ace..?" you call slowly, "Are you gonna continue your story, or..?"
He blinks slowly, waiting for you to break character and your laughtrack to play because, surely, you cannot be serious.
He waits for five seconds, then ten before deciding to stretch out his silence for another twenty and then thirty more seconds. Still nothing. You're still staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to tell you the remainder of what's left of his story and its then that he realizes that you were being dead serious.
His face darkens into a red rose shade in seconds.
"Ace?! Are you okay?! Why're you so red and what's with that look?!" you had the gall to ask while having the audacity to look startled — and in response to your irritatingly genuine confusion, Ace...
...well Ace didn't know how to react really.
"I— You can't just...—!" he stammers as his mouth tries to say ten different things at once and fails, leaving him with no other choice but to say none of it. He lets out an aggravated yell.
"Forget this!" he shouts, turning away from you as he throws himself on his side and smacks his head against your pillow, exclaiming then, "I'm going to bed!"
And, utterly stupefied, you blurt out, "Why so suddenly?! Seriously, what's up with you?!"
( You neither got your answer to your question, nor did you get to hear the end of his story that night. )
Deuce Spade
"I'm totally gonna to fail at this rate..." Deuce said before letting out sigh.
He had come to you after a long hour and a half in Professor Trein's class where he did nothing but fight sleep, dejectedly admitting to you that he hadn't memorized a single bit of source material for the up and coming exam that'll occur later that week.
"It just doesn't click for some reason — more than it usually doesn't," he said as he shook his head and his shoulders slumped.
"Housewarden Riddle has made me flashcards in hopes that the information would be easier to digest, but even that's not helping. I'm starting to lose all hope in making it out of this with a decent grade.."
He sounded so defeated, but his words truly went in one ear and out the other as you were more drawn in to his pouty expression rather than the exact cause of it — and like, really, who could really blame you for that? I mean, with his lip slightly jutted out and his eyes drooping like puppy dog ears, he looked so—
"Uhm...Y/n?" Deuce calls, causing for you to jump a little as you suffer from the jarring feeling of being abruptly ripped away from your daydreaming.
It catches the boy's attention and, with brows furrowing with worry, he decides to ask you, "..Are you alright? You seemed to space out there for a moment."
What a gentleman he is, truly — your eyes soften.
"Yeah, I'm fine, sorry," you apologize, "I got distracted because of how pretty your pouting face is," you casually add.
And immediately, Deuce short circuits.
His mouth falls open, as if he wished to say something, only to fall closed for a second or so and open again where the process repeats.
He does this for a few minutes, and his face grows pinker as time passes which has you growing nervous. Making you believe that your little comment had done more harm than good.
"Sorry," you found yourself repeating to him. This time asking, "Did that.. Did I make you uncomfortable with that?" thankfully, that seems to snap Deuce out of whatever bug you had accidentally planted into his system and reboot him.
"Oh, uh, no! N- No, it didn't! Don't worry.." he awkwardly stammers, his eyes darting away to look at a pebble near his foot.
"You sure? It's okay if I did. You're allowed to be put off by it," you explain, clearly not convinced, "Partner or not, if my comment didn't sit well with you—"
"I liked it!" he exclaimed, spinning his head around to look at you, only to immediately lose his composure all over again the moment his eyes lock with yours.
( Hey, look at it this way; at least he's not stressing out over the future exam anymore, right? )
Jack Howl
He was explaining to you his process of how he tends to his cactus plant. His reason? Well, that morning before he left for his daily jog, he had noticed that it had began to brown at its roots.
Though he was embarrassed to ask for aid, he had hoped to gain some enlightenment from you — who had a much broader knowledge on plant life. Unfortunately, all you've given him so far are hums and small comments of acknowledgement, leading him to only one conclusion.
"You're not listening," he grumbles, crossing his arms against his chest and looking away, trying to play off the abashment creeping up his neck as he says, "Forget I said anything."
That catches your attention.
"Wait, wait, I'm sorry! I swear I was listening!" you shoot out, your hands latching around his bicep to gain his attention once again. You succeed with the small effort, but the doubtful look he gives you lets you know that you're not out of the doghouse yet.
And so, feeling as though you had no other choice, you decide to admit what's had you so captivated.
"I really was listening until the end just now! Promise!" you pull away from him to clasp your hands together in a praying-like gesture as you bow your head, "It's just that...when you talk about your hobbies and things you're passionate about, you always get this certain...shine...in your eyes. It's really beautiful — a- and makes you all the more handsome obviously! I guess this time I just got...distracted by it...again, sorry.."
Silence is what you gain in response — not a great sign in the least.
You had confessed such an mortifying truth thinking it would fix this, but it didn't and humiliation couldn't begin to describe the feeling sinking into you in that moment.
That said, as you looked up with heating cheeks, you realized that Jack wasn't in a much better state; scratching the back of his head as his cheeks bloomed a light pink.
"Why...nevermind," he says, sighing to himself, "I regret saying anything at all. Let's just drop this."
At first, you frown, thinking that you had truly messed up...until Jack's tail brushes against your hip.
You look down. He's wagging up a storm — the fluffy white appendage thumping whenever it brushes against the bench seat you two are sitting on, creating a happy beat in the process that gives away every thought the beastman refused to say aloud.
The sight has your smile returning to your face.
"You're cute when you get all shy like this."
"Urk-! ...Shush."
Epel Felmier
He had been going on for about ten minutes now, having been flown into a rage about something related to Vil.
"He must take me fa some docile little thing or sumthn' cause he neva takes a lick of what I tell 'em seriously!" he spouts as he paces before you, gesturing wildly. You're sure if this keeps up, he'll burn a permanent line into your carpet.
"He tells me off 'n I threaten him back and its like a joke to him! Then he gets to yappin' about proper grammar and whatnot like I didn't say anythin'! It pisses me off, an— Y/n? Are you listenin' to a dang thing I'm sayin'?!"
You hum out, "Of course, babe," and sigh when he narrows his eyes, full of disbelief, towards you.
"I really was listening," you affirm.
Epel clicks his tongue, saying in a tone that's both Pomefiore proper and country boy bumpkin, "There's no needa lie. I can tell notta bit of what I said is reachin' you."
You find yourself sighing again, this time shaking your head too.
"Okay, maybe I was a bit distracted," you admit, deciding to add at the last minute, "..but its only because I find you cute when you're all worked up like this."
Oh what a mistake that was. Such an easily avoidable one too — not that you can do much about it now since the damage is already done. Epel's jaw was already tensing and his periwinkle brows were already forming dents in his forehead from how deep his v of ire is.
All you could do now was close your eyes and brace for impact.
"Who're you callin' cute?! Huh?!" he angrily proclaims, "Ain't nothin' cute about me, ya hear?!"
"Yes, yes, I meant manly — slip of the tongue, I swear," you wave him off, but that doesn't seem to satisfy the country boy. Not one bit...which was kind of your fault for being so half-hearted about reassuring him, now that you think about it.
"Yeah right. You ain't the least bit sorry," he grumbles. Going on to bitterly comment, "Its 'cause you don't take me seriously neither. 'm just some cute little bunny in your eyes or somethin' or another.."
"Oh don't get to sulking on me. You know that's not true," you stand to your feet. Crossing the small distance between you two where you then cup his face.
Carefully, you turn his head with your hands, giving him no choice but to look at you. His eyes are still narrowed with anger, but you can see the sadness swimming along the tides of his light blue hues and staring into them felt like you were being stabbed straight through the heart — for you were partially to blame for such a look surfacing on his face.
"Epel, listen to me," you begin with a softened gaze — as if you were staring at something precious, "I admit that I may tease a bit more than I should, but I genuinely think that you're one of the manliest, bravest, toughest guys I know. It's one of the things I love about you, after all."
Epel doesn't reply immediately as he takes time to mull over your words. And, though you don't comment on it, you note the small blush that overtakes his face as your words sink into him.
Finally, abashed, he swats your hands away from your face. Muttering in his accent about how he doesn't need nor want you to coddle him, only for his arms to then snake around your waist and pull you against him. You can't help but roll your eyes as you hug him back.
"So...are we cool? Do you believe me and what I said, or do I need to prove my words true to you somehow?" you ask.
"I believe ya', but a little convincing wouldn't hurt neither," he replies, to which you tilt your head and ask, "And how, pray tell, would you like me to do that?"
Immediately, his eyes travel down to your lips. You huff as you catch on, barely being able to fight off the smirk growing on your lips as Epel leans in to capture them in a passionate kiss.
Sebek Zigvolt
He had been, once again, preaching to you about his glorious future king, Malleus Draconia, and like the supportive partner you were, you listened to your boyfriend intently as he rambled on.
Okay, maybe not intently. You must admit that, at some point, you found yourself lost in all your staring — entranced by the love of your life so impassioned — for he was truly a breathtaking sight to behold.
Alas, it seemed you weren't so subtle about your wandering eyes or waning concentration, for you were eventually called out for it in the loudest way possible.
"Human! To attention!" Sebek snapped, fangs baring at you in a fit of pique, "I'm enriching you with tales of our great Malleus despite you barely being worth such an honor! Don't disrespect my time by ignoring me!"
"Apologies, dear," you replied calmly, and without hesitation, revealed, "I had been momentarily swept away by your handsomeness. I'll try not to let it happen again."
"Hmph, you better," he responds and you can practically see the gears turning in his head — as well as the very moment your comment finally, truly clicks because, in an instant, his entire façade crumbles.
"I..." he begins, but immediately loses his train of thought, seemingly having been momentarily dumbfounded by such a simple statement.
It was truly adorable, you thought.
"You were saying, beloved?" it's a bit mean, but you can't help but tease him, "Don't tell me my little comment has rendered you speechless."
"N- Nonsense!" he exclaims loudly, "I simply...was caught off guard briefly by your shamelessness!"
"..Truly, this is proof that you and your kind lack not only class, but taste as well!" he adds, and you're almost immediately clapping back.
"Hm, how cruel of you to say, because I'll have you know that part of my taste extends to the magnificent man before me," you say, and instantly, he's quiet again. You find yourself giggling from amusement.
Oh, what fun it was to torment him.
Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx
Guys I swear I have that LukaReaderTill fic queued up and ready to post ( for once I'm not #procrastinating ) but yeah choose one pls I'm so fucking indecisive it's insane-
Help me out?🥺( SUMMARIES UNDER THE CUT!! )
Housewardens reacting to their kid getting hurt because they didn't listen
Housewardens reacting to their daughter getting her first period
"Sorry, you're just really pretty — what were you saying?" Feat. The First Years
NRC dorms teaching their first years how to drive HCs
( Me button don't click pls & ty )
Voting ended onApr 26
Housewardens reacting to their kid getting hurt because they didn't listen
Summary: How would the housewardens react to their kid(s) getting hurt doing something they already warned them not to do?
Housewardens reacting to their daughter getting her first period
Summary: How would the housewardens react to their daughter getting her first period?
"Sorry, you're just really pretty — what were you saying?" Feat. The First Years
Summary: How do the first years react to you telling them that you were distracted by their beauty?
NRC dorms teaching their first years how to drive HCs
Summary: How would each dorm handle teaching their first year(s) how to drive?
( I'll start on whichever is in the lead in an hour or so ty guys in advance love yall MWAH MWAH MWAH 🖤 )
The Mistakes That Led Us Together {The First Mistake; He Who Fell First}
Luka x GN Reader x Till
Summary: There are many mistakes that led to the mess you're in now, but the main three would have to be he who fell first, he who fell second, and you, who fell last.
Warnings: This takes place in a modern au where the aliens are humans! That said, this is part one of a three-shot fic that focuses on reader, Till, and Luka in elementary school! ( Around like first or second grade I imagined ) Luka is a warning in it of himself so unhealthy attachment, emotional disconnection, and health scares ahead. Jealous Luka is sprinkled in here somewhere. With that said, happy reading! <3
A/N: FUCKING FINALLYYYYYYYY!!! The fic was NOT cooperating with me dude ( another case of longshots hate ari and love to see her suffer ). This draft took a couple hours to edit so you guys better enjoy it or I'll cry, okay? Okay! Enjoy the first part of this year old draft of a slowburn between my favorite alnst rarepair + reader cause I'm greedy and have free will.
Extra: Enjoyed this? Consider snagging yourself a loyalty card so you can be notified as soon as I post!
Wanna check out the other alnst content we have? Check out our alien stage masterpost! 👽🎤
The gentle silence that filled these white walls were deafening to your bloodied ear. Ringing, it drowned everything out — your breath, your heartbeat, the loud and frantic bouncing of your leg — and, in that moment, it felt as if you had actually gone deaf.
Part of you wished that were the case. After all, if you were deaf, you wouldn’t have been able to decipher the cry of pain Luka made when his head collided with your living room TV and the grunt of pain that followed when he collapsed to the floor alongside the broken shard.
Furthermore, if you were deaf, you wouldn't have heard Till — who yelled Luka's name as if it were the last thing he'd ever do before it was abruptly cut short by quiet, stuttered gargling that was unfortunately loud enough to be picked up and deciphered. A strangled noise you remember it was — for it was a clear indicator of Till's shock as a knife pierced his stomach. It was the same knife that had sliced your ear. The same one you had forgotten to secure before naively opening the front door of your apartment.
…That’s right. All of this was because of you.
You were the reason Till got stabbed — the reason Luka dyed your living room carpet red too. Not just that, but it's because of you that you're sitting in the waiting room with your mother — who, for the first time in her entire life, trembles with fear over the fact that she very well may lose not one, but two children. Children that weren't hers by blood, but ones she saw as her own kin nevertheless. Kids that she allowed into her home, fed, hid away for a time and, in her own odd way, loved deeply.
Love. Such a stupid emotion. For this feeling that simmered — and still burns — deeply in your core is the very reason that drove you here. The very thing that gave you that plan to run away from this life that's grown worn with misplaced anger, years-long miscommunication, and so, so many tears — and start anew with a bond that stems back to early in your childhood.
Your childhood. You had made so many mistakes back then. You wish you could do it all again — for them, for yourself — so that you could fix this giant mess you've single-handedly created.
…And by fix, a part of you, forever disillusioned, extends that to the two whom you, just a night prior, had promised to spend your entire life with; Luka and Till.
For if you hadn't made the mistake of meeting them that day during recess back in elementary and befriending them under that large tree on the hill, none of this would've happened.
It was hot and slightly humid that day — the perfect weather to play — and you were running around with your classmates when one of them suddenly collided with someone else. They flew back and because you were behind them, you ultimately did as well when they came crashing into you.
“Hey, watch it!” someone shouted a few feet away from where you laid. You had initially thought it your classmate, but after getting up and helping them do the same, you realized that you had been wrong in your assumption. For it not had been them, but the person they had run into. A boy who possessed green eyes of fire that shone brightly, reminding you of two emerald pendants beaming under those sunlight rays.
Stubbornness was your flaw, and when paired with the lack of maturity that wore you like silk sleeves, you were simply a disaster waiting to worsen — or in this case, worsen a situation.
Upon realizing it was the boy who had said that, despite your party having been so clearly in the wrong, you rolled your eyes to the sky and, like the child you were, said something back to get the last word in.
“You were in our way, so you should watch where you're going next time!” you had told him, putting an emphasis on every 'you' that left your lips. The boy clearly wasn't fond of that response, for his dark brows had begun to furrow and his yelling grew more aggressive the more he spoke.
“Nah uh! You guys weren't looking and ran into me!” he had said, scrambling to stand to his feet as he finished his thought, remarking angrily, “It’s probably 'cause you couldn’t see, four eyes!”
At this point, you were both on your feet and the height difference between you two had been revealed to the small audience your little back and forth had garnered. You were the taller one by a small margin, for you leaned on the bigger side of the scale for a kid your age — a characteristic your mother often complimented you and praised herself for, as it was a sign of your body storing nutrients properly, or so she had explained once.
All of this was to say that the boy cared not one bit for your size, craning his neck to look up at you with that same fire crackling in his irises, to which a staring contest of who could assert the most dominance with their glare ensued.
You should’ve walked off then and left the boy to yell at your retreating figure while you ran off to play with your friends, but you didn't. You couldn't. Not when this shrimp currently held the title of the last spat which, in your head, was a telltale sign of his winning lead in this argument.
You had to win this. You just had to, which was why — instead of turning and leaving — you stood your ground and exclaimed, “Well it’s not our fault you’re so hard to see, shorty!”
And just like that, victory had been secured. Your classmate was at your side backing you now, and soon enough, others followed suit, saying similar phrases of, 'watch where you're going' and your favorite, 'shortypants'. A smirk of triumph painted your expression. You had won this battle.
And what did you obtain as a trophy? Only what you had deserved in that moment, which was a firm punch to the cheek.
The smart thing to do in that situation would've been to alert a teacher. Show them the battle scar you had so unjustly received and deliver the boy his just desserts, but unfortunately for yourself at that age intellect, or even common sense, wasn't your strong suit.
You were a rather emotional being. The kind that let said emotions control and drive you. That said, the moment the punch was landed, the boy — and by extension your own — fate was sealed, for you had immediately retaliated with a punch of your own and a fight broke out.
Soon after that, a teacher was informed about what was happening, came to break you two up, and you both were punished for unruly conduct. Your punishment in question, you may ask. Well it was brutal and utterly inhumane; to sit out for the remainder of recess and mend your relationship with the boy by talking out your feelings.
At the time it happened, you were very upset. Play time meant a lot to you, and you didn’t believe you deserved to be stripped of that because some short brat who nearly knocked your tooth out couldn't control his temper. To your young, undeveloped self, you found this treatment to be unjust. After all, you were just defending yourself and your friend!
Anyway, the teacher had made your designated timeout spot a large tree that sat on a giant hill at the farthest corner of the school's playground. It was a little far out from the play structures and equipment and provided little privacy, so conversing with other kids would serve as a difficult task — which was perfect for your teacher. You two were sent off where a short, bickering travel side by side had landed you two perched on opposite ends of that large tree.
The atmosphere had grown thick with your growing tension by then. In fact, if it things stretched on like this, a branch would snap, you were sure of it.
Honestly, what was your teacher thinking subjecting you to such torture?!
“This is all your fault, y’know?” you suddenly heard the kid speak from the under side of the tree trunk. The absolute nerve of this guy, you had thought. Your tiny teeth beginning to grind under the heavy feeling of indignation boiling your blood.
“My fault?! You were the one who threw the first punch!” you finally shouted back after a few seconds.
The boy matches your tone and energy perfectly, “I only threw the first punch because you picked a fight with me!”
“No I didn't! And even if I were, if you weren't being such a big, mean jerk and started yelling at me and my friend, I wouldn't have said anything to you!”
“It’s not my fault that you’re such a baby and cry when someone snaps at you!” a big, loud exasperated gasp leaves you as offended shock hits you like a semi-truck.
“I. did. not. cry!” You shrieked, “Say that to my face!”
“I would, but you’ll probably end up eating dirt again!” you could hear it in the way he said it that he was likely grinning while speaking his sentence, and just the thought of it being even the least bit true made you want to wipe it off his face, specifically with your fists.
“Oh yeah?! Then prove it!” you shot to your feet faster than a bullet firing from a gun. Your anger reaching new heights like an inferno fueled by fresh logs, “Let’s see you try and—!”
Click!
You pause, your lips snapping shut and your feet stilling in their tracks to round the trunk. What was that sound?
It seemed so close and yet — you take a glance around, just in case — there was no one near that could have produced it. Were you imagining things?
Wait, no— focus! You have a short-stack to make into a pancake, you shouldn't be worried about some random sound!
You open your mouth once again with that in mind, planning to ignore the strange noise, but then you heard it again; a sharp click that kind of sounded like your teacher snapping her finger to gain the class’s attention. Was she? Out here? Was it time to leave already?
Your gaze panes. You could see your teacher in the distance helping a kid on the swings, not a motion signaling that she was responsible for the sound. Not that you had really believed that to be true, for even if she had, it wouldn’t have sounded so close. Never hurts to confirm a — what was the word your mom used? Theera? Theron? No, that's not right either..
“What? You too chicken to come over here?”
Your eye twitches. This brat. You had, somehow, almost forgotten about him and about the pummeling you were about to dish out. Thankfully, he had just put you back on the right track.
Click! ..Click!
..Click! Click! Clack!
“Would you quit with all that clicking?!” the boy finally shouts.
“That’s not me!” you yell back. Your voice pitching as if you were being accused of some grand crime, which to young, innocuous you, was what was basically happening.
“Stop blaming stuff on me!”
“I would if—!” Click! Click! Click! Click! “Agh..! I told you to stop that!”
“I told you I'm not doing that! See? I'll show you— Woah!”
Your feet come to a firm stop. The suddenness of your action nearly causing you to topple forward and right onto what was causing your abrupt halt in the first place — a person. A really pretty person. Someone who, no exaggeration, looked like they were ripped straight out of a storybook!
They sat, back pressed against the backside of the tree which blocked the sunlight from touching their pale skin as they sat in the trunk's overarching shadow. Despite this, it was like they were glowing — angelically so almost — and that was mostly because of their odd appearance.
Their hair and lashes were a faded shade of yellow and looked as fluffy as the clouds that hung overhead. Their hair had a little bounce to it, but was a bit shaggy at the same time and gave you the idea that if you were to pet it, the sensation would be akin to petting a baby kitten's fur coat. Their skin was doughy, but smooth. Void of any blemishes or scars from playing a little too roughly — not to mentioned that it looked as though it were being moisturized by holy water daily. The one thing that seemed to throw off this already odd sight before you, though, were their eyes — which were at an obviously dark downturn despite its golden color, giving off a rather somber vibe, especially when you locked eyes with them.
In all honesty, they reminded you quite a bit of the sad little prince from the fairytale your teacher read in class yesterday during reading time.
Click! Click! Click!
…And it seemed that this depressed little prince was the culprit of that infernal racket. Though, you couldn’t find yourself being exactly angry about the noise anymore.
“Hey, what’s that you have there?” you found yourself asking him. Completely forgetting, once again, about your initial plan of beating up the kid on the other side of the tree. In fact, your latest discovery had made you forget about him entirely.
You walk over, deciding to plop yourself beside the sullen new face as if you’d done so a million times before, smiling as though you were approaching your best friend rather than a stranger. Your older relatives have yapped your ears off in the past about ways to work on that — being more uptight when interacting with people who aren’t in your close circle, you mean — but your mom has always told you to ignore them, preferring that you remain your ‘naturally benevolent and unapologetically guileless self’, whatever that means.
“Mmm..” the boy hums as he very slowly tilts his head upwards, finally deciding to acknowledge the new presence at his side.
He locks eyes with you, and his gaze is unnervingly colorless despite its pretty, vibrant shade. ( Looking back at it now, it was like you were staring at a starless sky. Something devoid of the sparkles of joy and happiness. Something truly deserving of the phrase, 'depressing'. To your childlike brain at the time, though, he simply looked down. )
After taking a few seconds to take in your appearance, the gloomy boy eventually turns back to his strange toy without so much as a greeting. He doesn't bother to answer your question either. It makes you frown for a moment. Only a moment though, for you're quick to rebound.
“Is it like a game?" you ask him, "Is that why you keep turning the blocks like that?”
He looks up at you again with the same expression. No sign of irritation or anger about being interrupted for a second time. It was a little bizarre — even to someone like you, who's mom was the textbook definition of such a word — but, at the same time, it was relieving to know that you don’t seem to irk him with your persistence like you have with a few of your classmates in the past.
..And what's even better is that your pushing didn't earn you a mean comment or a glare, but the answer you were sought to gain.
“It’s a Rubik Cube. You turn each side until all the colors match up,” he states. His words seem blunted by boredom ( and looking back on it, seemed stripped of any soul or life. Though, again, your child brain filtered it out and you didn't interpret his tone in such a way ).
To child you, his voice was simply..calming. Like listening to Wubble read you bedtime stories at night or your mom hum her favorite song for the fiftieth time while she worked on a new gadget. Yeah, something like that. Like, if you were forced to sit here and do nothing but listen to him talk for the remainder of recess, you’re sure this boy could bring you an early naptime — and you wouldn't mind that one bit. His voice relaxes you — so much so that despite only barely meeting, and not even knowing his name, you leaned against the boy's shoulder.
He didn’t pause at your action nor did he hesitate from shock or discomfort. He didn’t react much at all really, and continued to turn and twist the quad-colored cube wrapped snugly in his chubby hands — like the one leaning all their weight against him was a close friend of his and not a total stranger. It was surprising reaction for you to witness, but you didn’t complain. Chalking his behavior up as him simply being a chill person as the comfort of your newfound position set in.
Alas, you — the ever active kid — couldn’t remain satisfied for long and ended up poking the fat of the boy’s cheek to gain his attention so you can ask him yet another question.
“Can I try?”
Immediately, he stops, and to your glee, the boy shifts the block to one hand and holds it up to your face. Silently giving you permission to take it from his grasp — which you eagerly take with a small exclamation of thanks.
You start off zealous; twisting and turning the sides fast and aggressive like your life depended on completing the simple yet complex puzzle. That said, the clicking of every side that snaps into place grows much louder than before — as if someone had connected them to a giant speaker — but the noise ultimately flows into one ear and bounces right out the other as concentration settles within you.
And within seconds that concentration is shattered by a familiar, grating voice.
“I knew it!” the green-eyed pest from before exclaimed, and you found yourself blinking in surprise upon realizing he’s now standing right in front of you. When had he gotten so close?! More importantly..
“You’re still mad about that?!” you asked, “I already told you—!"
“Shut it, I don’t wanna hear anymore of your crap!” he cuts you off, and you had planned to gasp from shock — after all, he had just said a bad word — but before you could, he reaches down and clasps his hands around the top and bottom of the Rubik Cube which gave you another, more pressing reason for an exasperated exhalation.
“What are you doing?!” you shrieked, pulling the cube towards you with all the might you could muster, screaming, “Hey, quit it!”
“No!" he responded, tugging with just as much strength, "I told you to stop it with all the clacking but you wouldn’t so now I gotta stop you myself!”
“I told you a million times it wasn’t me!” you yelled, “And this isn’t even my cube! You can’t just snatch someone else's stuff, thief!”
“Who’re you callin’—!” “Hey, what are you two doing up there?!”
Both of you jump at the familiar sound of your teacher’s voice and pause simultaneously. You turn your head first, but don’t immediately see her. Your eyes dart left and right, scanning the playground until you spot the familiar gray of your teacher’s hair at the farthest end of the playground. How is it even possible for her to see that far?!
“Don’t tell me you two are still fighting?!”
The echo of her shout is carried through the wind and up to your ears. Though delayed, you can perfectly hear the unspoken warning in her stern tone. The boy does too, because you both seem to freeze up like stone statues.
“W- We’re not!” / "W- We aren't!"
Dang, you two even stammered at the same time, though his voice sounds babier. You would say something, but right now, you’re scared even fixing your lips would be caught by your teacher’s hawk eyes and she’ll end up giving you an even worse punishment than what you’re dealing with now — like homework.
So instead of saying something, you wait until your teacher’s eyes go back to your classmates before snatching the cube away. The sudden action seems to snap the boy from the spell of terror your teacher put him under and, upon realizing what you did, he glares daggers at you. You retaliate by sticking your tongue out and he growls out of frustration.
But before things could escalate for a third time, the cube is swiped from your hands.
You spin your head around towards the culprit — who you had already forgotten was there despite only being distracted for a minute or so. Your eyes lift, surprised, but then immediately soften when they lock with that blank gaze you’ve already managed to grow used to.
The gray haired boy — who was still towering over your sitting form — followed your gaze, but as his eyes lock onto the gentle-faced boy curled up beside you, watching as he shifts different sides of the cube and form that incessant clicking sound, his eyebrows start twitching.
He opens his mouth to say something, but then suddenly hesitates as a chill runs down his spine. His finds himself gazing over to where your teacher is once more and his face pales when he lock eyes with her.
Seriously, how does she do that??
In the end, the boy has no choice but to bite the bullet on this one. Irritated and defeated, he stomping back over to his former seat, where he curls into himself and begins to sulk.
The three of you sat in silence for a while after that. You had, once again, made yourself comfortable against your new friend’s side as you watched in awe as he completed the puzzle for the second time in under five minutes.
By the third, you found yourself asking, “How do you do that so fast? Is there a trick to it?”
“No,” he answers bluntly. You pout, unsatisfied by his answer but having no choice but to accept it.
That’s when that annoying pest decided to add his unwanted opinion, “You’re just an idiot.” he quipped.
You can feel your vein flexing on your forehead; a result of how hard your clenching and damn near grinding your teeth together.
“Who asked you?” you snap, though it comes out whinier than you’d like to admit. Out of embarrassment, you puff your cheeks and grumble, “Like you’d do any better than me..”
“I would do better,” He retorted, seeming to have heard you.
“Oh yeah, then prove it!” You huffed, crossing your arms against your chest.
“Fine!” and the boy's rising to his feet once again. This time only for a moment before plopping down on the opposite side of the blonde boy.
He opens his hand out in his direction, already inching towards the cube, saying, “Hey, lemme see that for a sec’.”
Your mouth falls open, ready to scold the boy for his rude way of asking, but the sad prince gives you a whole new reason for your jaw to drop when he glances over at the gray-haired boy and suddenly begins moving his faster than anything before — twisting and turning sides at random until it's reverted back to looking like a mismatched, complex art piece.
He finally hands it off to the gray-haired boy and you find your lips twisting into a mean grin as you watch his face drop.
“Still think you can do better than me?” you snickered. The boy scowls.
“Yeah! Even a toddler can do better than you,” he replies back, and your giggling promptly ceases, twisting into a frown.
“Oh yeah? Well I bet an infant can best you!” you told him, subconsciously leaning forward which pushes your poor blonde friend forward as well, sandwiching him between you two. That said, from the look on his face, he doesn’t seem to care about the newfound, constrictive position and simply stares at you and the gray-haired boy as you continue your back and forth.
“You take that back!” said gray-haired boy shouts. Slamming his hand down on the grass as he leans forward as well, nearly smacking the blonde boy’s hand by accident as he does so.
“Not until you take back what you said first!” you say.
“As if!” he retorts, “Why would I anyways — it’s true!”
“Well, shorty, you still haven’t solved the puzzle! At least I got close to doing that!” you remark, watching with growing satisfaction as the boy’s face begins flushing red as he realizes that you’re right.
“I—! Well—!” he lets out a frustrated yell, then exclaims, “I’ll show you!”
Recess went by in a flash after that as you remember spending the remainder of your time watching the gray-haired boy’s sorry attempt at solving the Rubik Cube, failing miserably, before then watching your blonde friend surpass you both effortlessly by completing the puzzle within a few minutes of starting — something the gray-haired boy swore he had a part in helping achieve.
You remember proclaiming at the end of recess, “Let’s do this again tomorrow during recess! I’ll definitely beat your fastest then, uh…”
You pause as it finally dawns on you; this entire time, you haven’t known his name.
“...Hey, what’s your—” “You two, c’mon! You don’t want to get left behind, do you?”
Your tongue is forced to a stop as your mouth clamps shut. You glance over and see your teacher with her hands on her hips, looking expectantly at the three of you.
“Be careful on your way down, Luka.”
Your gaze drift as your eyes land on a woman you’ve never seen before. It’s obvious she’s another teacher by the tag hanging around her neck, but…why is she out here? Has she always been? If so, why? The only class out here is yours.
…And who in the world is Luka?
You turn back to the blonde with the intention of getting an answer to your earlier question only to be pushed aside as he stands to his feet and wordlessly walks away from you and the gray-haired boy without so much as a goodbye.
You watch him with wide eyes as his little legs tread down the steep hill, across the field, and up to the nice-looking woman — which technically answers your question about what his name was. Your smile returns at this.
Unfortunately, your satisfaction is short-lived as another question in your head forms; who in the world is this kid then?
You had been so mad early that you didn’t question him, but — before today — you had never seen this boy before. Yet again, however, you had no time to even get your question out before your teacher’s shrill voice filled your ears once more.
“Y/n! Till! If you take any longer, say goodbye to your afternoon snack time!”
“Coming!” you both shout in unison. A sudden urgency fueling the both of you as you scramble to your feet and run down the hill as if you were being chased by child-eating beasts.
In the heat of the moment, it didn’t click in your mind that your unspoken question had, once again, been answered — not until your teacher was doing a headcount of your class and you had heard him answer to the Till, for a second time.
The afternoon prior, you had unofficially been introduced to the new student, Till, during recess. That said, you found it pointless to pay him anymore mind during his official introduction this morning and promptly slept that morning away at your desk. It wasn't a big deal to you. After all, you had been forced to waste your playtime on meeting him and, even if you didn't know his name for the majority of it, there was no point in throwing away more time to him. He was a brat anyways.
Unfortunately, your teacher didn't seem to care for your reasoning when she had abruptly woken you up — if anything, it seemed to only anger her more. Maybe that's why she gave you the same punishment twice; sitting out during recess.
You were, rightfully, upset at first. How could you not be? Thanks to some shorty with a bad attitude, you once again couldn't do the activity you loved to do most — the highlight of your boring school day — playing. That said, your mood didn't persist for very long when she sentenced you to the same tree atop the hill.
Because that's where the sad little prince was hidden away yesterday, playing with his Rubik's cube.
The penalty was to sit out for recess, but technically your teacher never outright said you couldn't chat with friends or play with them. Besides, you could barely call solving puzzles fun anyways.
As expected, you found the golden boy slumped in the same spot he was in the day prior. Though, to your surprise, he wasn’t fidgeting with the colorful cube like you thought he would be doing. Instead of his doughy fingers swiftly maneuvering sides of the multi-colored block and matching up colors, they were lodged in his mouth, where he sucked away at them like a baby with a bottle.
He also wasn’t entirely leaning against the rough bark of the wood, but comfortably laying against something much softer. A shoulder, one belonging to none other than..
“Till?!” You bewilderingly exclaimed. At the call, said boy stops his ministrations on the cube firmly held in his hands and darts his eyes upwards.
The two of you lock eyes, and the moment you do, his face is twisting into a weird expression — as if the sight of him here was some common occurrence that you, for some reason, were the only one not aware of. It causes you to give him a similar look.
It spurs him to ask, “What?”
“Why are you over here?” you shoot out, deaf to how accusatory you make your question sound.
Till clicks his tongue, responding with a growl to his tone, “What? Got a problem with me relaxing?! You tryna pick another fight?!”
Your response is immediate, much to his surprise, “No.”
"I wasn't expecting to see you here.." you continued as you made your way over to your blonde friend, sitting down next to him when you do, where you proceed to — like before — push all your weight onto him. This time though, your arm snakes behind him and you wrap around his other shoulder and pull him closer. He's smaller than you so when he comes barrelling into you, his head hits your chest, allowing you the perfect opportunity to prop your chin atop his fluffy, golden curls.
Finally, now that you're comfortably settled, you decide to finish your sentence, saying, “I mean, the only reason you hung around yesterday was because you were in trouble and had nothing to do.”
“The same could be said about you..” Till trails off, his eyes having followed you to your current seat where they lingered on the sight before him with an almost cautious expression morphing on his face.
You notice this and question him, “What?” you ask.
He replies with a question of his own, “Are you trying to crush him?” a gasp leaves you. He did not just say that!
“I am not — am I crushing you, Luka?!” you pull back, looking down at the golden boy under you. He meets your gaze, his thick, slanted lashes fluttering slightly with every slow blink of his eyes.
Expressionlessly, he shakes his head no.
“Ha! See? He’s fine!” you say, sticking your tongue out as you oh so boldly proclaim, “You’re just mad you didn’t think of doing this sooner! Not that he’d ever let you!”
Till’s eye twitches at your comment. His anger quickly spiking as he blurts out, "Ye- Yes he would! I just haven't because.. because I don't want to!"
“Excuses, excuses,” you retort. Now both of his eyes are twitching.
He growls, frustration burning in his eyes as he yells, “I’ll show you!” and with that loud cry, Till wasted no time shifting around and leaning back, allowing his head to fall and land on the small of the boy's lap. He doesn’t react to the newfound position, and merely looks down at the emerald-eyed boy as he continues to suckle at those same two fingers without a care in the world.
“Se- See? He doesn’t care.” Till’s intent was to sound smug, but his words came out as a bashful stutter as his face was set ablaze under both you and the golden boy's gazes from above.
..This is more embarrassing than he estimated it would be.
Till doesn’t move an inch though. Stubbornly determined to prove his point, he continues to lay there and goes back to messing with the Rubik Cube to ignore both of your stares. As he does this, you found yourself watching him — and for way longer than you thought possible for someone as short-spanned as yourself — as a comfortable silence fell over you three.
And then, unprompted, you decide to voice an inner thought that surfaced as you watched him, “Wow you suck.”
In seconds, Till's face reddens all over again.
“Like you could do–!” “Turn thack shide…”
Both of you pause — and you even go as far as to pull away from your comfortable position to stare at the boy beneath you owlishly with Till.
He doesn’t bat an eye to your shared reaction of shock, but he does — at last — release his fingers from their slippery, wet prison to point them at Till’s right hand.
“Turn that side forward,” he repeats softly, and before Till can even comprehend his delicate voice giving him instructions, he’s shrieking from disgust when drool drips from the boy's fingertips and onto his finger.
“Eww..!” He drawled, shooting up from his lap, “Wipe your—! Hey, stop! Don't you dare to me touch me!”
Ignoring his yells, the boy closes the small distance between them, his smaller hands coming up to cradle Till’s slightly larger ones.
“Turn this side,” he repeats for a third time, yet still as gently as the last two times. His hand forcing Till’s to follow his instruction as he continues, “Turn the bottom next… Then the middle one…”
Soft clicks follow after every direction given, but they’re promptly drowned out by Till — whom of which seems much more concerned over the warm, clear liquid dripping down his hands than anything the boy's saying.
Eventually, Till yanks himself away entirely upon realizing his yells of protest were getting him nowhere and shuffles to his feet — ready to yell everyone in the vicinity's ears of, when you noticed something.
“Hey, you did it!”
Your exclamation has Till pausing and furrowing his eyebrows in confusion. Nevertheless, he follows where your fingers are pointed down at his drool-covered hand…which he the now completed Rubik Cube. His eyes widened.
“I.. I did it!” he said after the moment of shock washes away, “I actually did it!”
Then, he turns to the boy, and for the first time, you and him were able to witness Till's lips stretch into a genuine smile.
“Thanks for the help..! ..Uh..” he trails off.
"Luka.." the boy mumbles.
"Thanks for the hand, Luka!" Till repeats, but he golden, sad prince — who's name has now been confirmed to be Luka — doesn’t say anything to acknowledge his thanks, instead going back to sucking on his pudgy fingers. Till doesn’t mind, continuing to smile warmly at him.
“Hey, can you teach me next?” you ask, excitement beginning to bubble within you, as you couldn't even allow him the proper of window of time to answer you, already opting to begging him, “Pretty please…?”
You lean against him once more, this time wrapping both arms around him where you nuzzle your cheek against his, pleading once more, "Pleeeeasssee…!"
Alas, instead of getting the answer you so desperately desired, you got one you didn't want from someone you didn't ask — Till.
“Nuh uh! It's still my turn!” he tells you. Your expression sours.
“You’ve had it this whole time! Plus, you’ve already solved it so that means your turn is over,” you argue.
“That didn’t count! I wasn’t even paying attention!”
"So?! It's still my turn!"
( In the end, the Rubik Cube was taken by Luka and you two were forced to learn via watching — and watch you two did whilst sandwiching the poor boy…who actually didn't seem to mind all that much for being stuck in the position you two had him in. )
“You’re younger than us?!” you cry out, staring quizzically at Luka.
“But aren’t you in our grade?!” Till asks.
The blonde in question on nods his head, not bothering to further explain himself as he focuses on reshuffling the Rubik Cube after having solved it for the fourth time that afternoon. You and Till exchange glances of bewilderment for a moment before returning your eyes back to Luka, who sat in between you two.
You decide to ask on behalf of both of you, “How does that work?!”
“I skipped a grade,” he replies bluntly. You gasp at this, your eyes beginning to sparkle with awe. Till doesn’t match your expression, looking at Luka with confusion still swirling in his green hues.
“You can do that?” he asks, “How?”
You decide to answer on Luka’s behalf, a wide smile stretching across your starry expression, “You have to be smart — like really, really, really smart!” you explain, “My older cousin did the same thing in middle school and everyone was praising her for it and calling her a genius!”
Till's brows furrow, “What’s a genius?”
“Someone so smart that they can solve anything no matter how hard it is!” you eagerly answer. That’s when the gears finally click in place for Till and his expression changes to match yours as he looks down to gawk at Luka as if the boy had just fought of a group of bullies and came out of it unscathed.
His eyes shine despite the tree's shading and are blown wide — wide enough that Luka can see the steady transformation of his grass green eyes brightening into a lighter shade as continues to marvel at him.
“Is that really true? Can you solve anything?!”
Luka opens his mouth to answer, but before he can say anything—
“Y/n! Till! There you are!”
All three of you turn in unison. A girl — as beautiful as a flower and with the smile of an angel — runs up to them with a black-haired girl harboring a shorter stature following close behind her. Your face somehow manages to brighten even more at her appearance while Till’s expression changes to resemble that of a deer in headlights.
Luka finds his eyes lingering on Till’s face, and watching it steadily bloom, for way longer of a time than he gives the nice-looking girl rapidly approaching.
“Hey, Mizi!” you greet cheerily to which she seems to match you, happily singing out, “Hey, Y/n!”
“H- H- Hey, Mizi..” Till barely manages to mumble out. She glances at him and sends a smile his way and the color of Till’s face seems to turn from a peach pink to a cherry red. None of you seem to pay any attention to it except for Luka — who’s eyes still haven’t left his face. Almost as if he were unable to.
In a way, it seemed like he couldn’t. Like he was being roped in by every twitch and change of Till's expression — like right now with Till’s lips quirking up in an awkward, crinkly smile.
This was the second time Luka has seen Till smile, he notes, but also that its the first time it wasn’t directed being directed at him. The realization sunk like a pebble in his tummy and sat uncomfortably at the bottom. Luka wasn’t sure why, but he knew he didn't like it.
“Wanna play hide and seek with us?” Mizi suddenly asked, snapping him away from his thoughts.
“Sure!” Luka spins his head over to look at you. You had that same bright, happy expression on your face that was just previously directed at him, though, it didn’t give him the same feeling of consolation as before, instead providing that same sinking feeling in his gut. Was it because it wasn't being made at him? Or because he wasn't the cause of such a reaction?
Whatever it reason, the uncomfortable faded a bit when you turned it back to him.
“Come on!” you suddenly wrapped both of your arms around his right arm and stood up, pulling him to his feet with ease. Luka's stares at you for a couple seconds, and for the first time ever, you watch his dark, dull eyes light up with so much surprise — so much emotion — that his drooping eyes have to widen in order to contain all the shock swirling within them. You find your own eyes widening slightly at this and you can't help but tilt your head too.
“What?” you ask him, “Don’t you wanna play too?” to which he responds slowly, hesitantly, as if the words he mumbled out were some kind of taboo.
“You…want me to play…? With...you?”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my friend!” you say.
“...Friend?”
Friend. It was truly a word foreign to him. Something he’s never really understood. Never really had. Never really yearned for. He’s heard the word thrown around in the past — usually by kids running around, smiling and giggling as they hug and hold and play.
Is that what the word entails? Does being someone's friend — being your friend — mean that he’d be able to run around with you, smiling and giggling with you, as you hug him, hold him, and play with him? Does that mean that cheery, smiley, joyful expression of yours would belong to him and him only?
“Luka, Y/n!” Luka blinks. That was Till’s voice…and he sounded strangely farther than before.
He turns his head the opposite way of you, and sure enough, Till is marching up the hill towards you, most likely having ran off before realizing you two had trailed after him to which he turned around and came back to get you both.
He notices that pink haired girl, M…whatever her name was, and the black haired girl standing at the bottom of the hill. Did they all run down there at some point?
More importantly, why were they all waiting on them?
“What’s taking so long, slowpokes?! Recess will be over before we even start playing tag at this rate!” Till spat as he finally made it back to the top of the hill. Luka didn’t really care much for his comment, but as always, you very much seemed to mind it.
“Who’re you calling a slowpoke?!" you puffed before then saying, "We were just heading down there!”
“Well walk faster!” he snapped back, before suddenly, Luka felt his other arm being enveloped and his body being dragged down the steep hill by none other than Till — who truly intended to have him join them.
Does that mean Till also sees him as a friend? Luka never gets a chance to ask him as the petty dispute between you and Till left him no room to cut in.
Before long, he was learning how to play hide-and-seek with a bunch of other kids he never thought he’d ever interact with. It was truly an experience for him. One that, for once, had him hoping he’d experience it again and again endlessly.
The room was silent, yet the buzzing in Luka’s ears made it seem so much louder.
It was such an overwhelming sound — one that was accompanied by a persistent, painful throb on the side of his head. It made him not dare to open his eyes as even the heavily filtered light that touched his closed eyelids felt blaring and agonizing.
It’s surprising that, only half an hour ago, he was feeling the exact opposite of this as he frolicked around outside, feeling as if he was floating on clouds whilst he bathed under the sunlight. Even now — despite feeling as though his lungs were a gust away from collapsing and his body trembled from the lack of oxygen it was receiving, and despite the fact that he’s been slipping in and out of consciousness for about an hour and a half now — the feeling still lingers in his chest.
He wishes — for once, he wishes for something; for this feeling to remain. That he was given a choice, one that granted his wish, even if it were at the cost of this heavy pain and discomfort staying too. It wouldn't be his first time dealing with it, after all.
The nurse had been talking to him at some point — or at least he thinks she was. At the very least someone had spoken to him, and he had only assumed it was her because, after the incoherent murmurs ceased, he was suddenly shifted to sit upright where he felt the familiar outline of her palm as it gently grabbed his arm before it shifted to feel his forehead.
The nurse’s office had become like a second home to him. That singular bed with its stale, cold pillows and sheets and matching walls was such a reoccurring sight for him, in fact, that he could locate things around the room with his eyes closed without trouble.
The nurse and her smile was commonplace for him, so much so that it was permanently engraved into his brain along with the rest of her face. Moreover, he sees her so often that he’s even able to pick up on her little habit, her micro-expressions, and even her thoughts at times.
When she’s calm, her smile is kind of flat, but when she’s happy about something, her smile stretches just enough for her cheeks to puff and her smile lines grow even more noticeable. When she’s feeling something called stress, she tends to run her hands through her hair — always starting at the top of her scalp, but never making it to the tips as she usually stops midway to pull it over her shoulder before removing her hand from her head entirely.
Whenever he’s brought to her, the corner of her brows dip and her eyes droop like her smile does, but in the blink of an eye, it'll adjust to match her calm expression.
She tends to hum while she works when she’s in a good mood and work in complete silence when she’s in a bad mood. She likes the office tidy enough that she can walks around without worry of tripping over things, but not so neat that it hides the fact that someone's been working in there for multiple years. For example, she likes to fiddle with trinkets when she’s bored or stressed and has little objects scattered across the bookshelf in the corner of the room for that very purpose in mind.
He never really thinks about what she may think of him exactly, but at the very least, she doesn’t seem to mind his almost constant presence.
Despite the faces she makes when he initially arrives to her office with his medical emergencies, she’s always polite. She’ll talk to him while she works and would even play this game ( …what was it again…patty cake? ) with him when she wasn't filing out medical reports, tending to others kids, or calling parents. Not only that, but she also lets him curl up in her lap whenever she’s at her desk, shares her snacks, and was also the one who gifted him his inanimate companion — his Rubik Cube — and taught him how it works, which has now become apart of his daily routine.
Alas, he can never seem to remember her name. All he can recall that it’s something that starts with an S… Was it Nurse Star? Nurse Shimmer?
“Nurse Shine!”
Ah, that's what it was.
“Ah, little… Luka is…—”
“Is….okay?!”
“Yes…. …still a bit… Please..—”
He couldn’t really hear what was being said. His ears were clogged, burning hot, as if he was submerged in a pool of molten lava. One would think the feeling would’ve been intolerable, but having been pushed into this fire once before he felt, more or less, unbothered by it and simply waited for the feeling to fade.
Moments later the room went silent again, and Luka assumes that whomever it was that disturbed it in the first place was gone. He expected to hear the familiar lullaby Nurse Shine tended to hum or possibly felt the temporary relief of her cool touch on his forehead once again, but instead, he suddenly felt someone — much smaller than Nurse Shine and with twice as many hands as her — yank him forward and embrace him.
“Luka…!” he heard them wail into his left ear, their voice pitchy and small before then feeling them bury their face into the crook of his sweat-dampened neck. On his right, another head rests on his shoulder. One of their shaky hands rooted in his hair and forcing him to nuzzle in their neck as they buried their nose into the other side of his neck.
This warmth that enveloped him — so much different than the lava-like fire — felt like a rope wrapping around his body and snatching him to safety. Though, he could still feel the aftereffects from being drowned in such an uncomfortable feeling for so long, it was thrown to the back of his mind the moment the connection was made.
The realization that this wasn't one person with many arms and heads, but two people — two kids. The same two who had been running around with him in the playground with a bunch of others. The same two who had begun sitting at the large tree everyday during recess — the same two who were the first to approach him, talk to him, and play with him. The same two whose eyes light up brighter than the sun that blinds him every afternoon whenever they look at him, filling up his cold, dead body with their warmth whenever they invade his personal iceberg of a bubble.
…And that sudden awareness of just who these people are has Luka's eyes shooting open. Has his hues growing small from suprise yet bright with joy. Has his lips moving to whisper their names — the only names he's managed to remember without issue.
“...Y/n..? Till..?”
His eyes burn, feeling as though wooden stilts were lodged in his sockets, but as Y/n and Till pull back from him one after the other and his eyes lock on the sight of their iris jewels — which float amongst a moat of unshed tears and anguish — the feeling is quickly forgotten and replaced by an entirely new feeling. One he’s never felt before now. One he can’t name or place on a scale. One that makes him feel as if his heart had just begun beating for the first time ever.
“Luka..”
He can hear them so much better so close like this. He’s glad for that since it allows him the pleasure of hearing every little crack Y/n’s voice makes — sounding similarly to glass being nicked away piece by piece with a knife.
It sounded so broken, so different from its usual energetic symphony, and it was all because of him. Only because of him.
“Luka…I- I.. I’m..s- so sorry…! Sorry, Luka—! 'm sorry..!”
“We didn’t… Why didn’t you tell us you were sick?! I- If we’d known, we wouldn’t have..” Till practically barked his words out, yet it wasn’t aggressive with anger. He could tell because the dips in his tone give way to the truth that hid behind his heart. A truth which he could tell was breaking the organ in half and pouring its bloody grief out into his words, soiling them and turning them sorrowful.
Till was sad. Though more composed than the blubbering mess Y/n was, he was no doubt upset. Deeply. So much so that he was trembling all over from the sheer agony that he was trying to contain. In fact, Luka's sure that if he breathed the wrong or pretend to slip back unconscious, Till would be reduced to the same stammering waterfall that Y/n is right now.
Part of him was tempted to push him, yearning to feel his hot tears fall upon his cool skin and wondering if those alone could heat it. The other half of him resisted, not because he saw it cruel or sadistic, but instead because he wished to ask a question that was scratching at the forefront of his mind.
“Why are you both crying?”
Y/n stayed glued to his shoulder, too busy drowning in their own tears to comprehend his words, but Till wasn't as hysterical and could decipher his question.
“What..? Are you serious?!” Till’s voice shifted to that tone that he was much more familiar with. That tone that was full of sharp teeth and pent up vials of anger and frustration. That tone that makes him believe that, any second now, Till was going to suddenly hit or punch or scratch him. Maybe Till wanted to, but Luka's current state left him hesitant.
Who knows.
“You passed out in the middle of our game and started twitching like crazy! You scared us so bad that we.. We thought..”
Till trips and stutters and Luka watches as the anger fizzes out like steam until he's sputtering. He assumes that the cycle would just repeat and that Till would find some newfound fire to shoot at him in the form of harsh words, but that never happens. Instead, his temper flattens out completely.
“We…” Luka’s golden lashes flutter as his eyes widen at the sight of Till's eyes welling up with tears for a second time. Tears that don’t easily fade and build high — high enough to pour over his waterlines and fall down his chubby cheeks in thick clumps. Till must soon realize this, because he pulls away from the boy completely to hide his tear-stricken face with his arm.
“We thought..—!" he snivels, "…We thought we lost our friend…you jerk! Why else would we be upset?!”
“You think we’re friends?” Luka asks — though it was meant to come off less as a question and more so as recognition and acknowledgement of what his teary statement meant to him as his brain finally fully processed that he had found companionship. That Luka — lonely, sickly, pathetically depressed-looking Luka — had found friends.
Friends who ran around and played with him. Friends who smiled and giggled with him. Friends who hugged him and nuzzled up to him and let him do so in turn. Friends who were overcome with fright at the very thought of his disposable being taken from them. Friends who likely suffered from just as much pain emotionally as he is physically because of that fright he gave them. Friends who are currently acting so out of character simply because he passed out.
Friends…who were truly his and his alone for nothing and no one else to claim.
He truly, for once in his entire worthless existence, could call something his — and two people at that! Y/n and Till…were all for him and him alone!
That thought made that same feeling he felt earlier return and intensify tenfold, and for the first time ever, Luka felt the sting of his cheeks turning red as they were pushed aside to make way for his lips, which were stretching to form a big smile — something he once only read about and never imagined he’d ever be able to do.
It was the best, most intense, most addictive feeling he could’ve ever felt. A feeling he yearns to drown in and never come back up for air. A feeling he longs to get lost in. A feeling of being cherished and loved — by not one, but two people — and so much so that the mere thought of losing him could ruin them and rob them of ever feeling connected to the whimsical feeling of happiness again.
…And it was in that moment that Luka realized that what he had felt — that emotion that sent his heart into overdrive, that got his breath kicking, that had his mind going blissfully blank of any thought unrelated to them — was love. Deep, addicting love that will probably never fade, even when the day comes that he truly does draw his last breath..
…and Luka couldn't be happier.
Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx
Guys I swear I have that LukaReaderTill fic queued up and ready to post ( for once I'm not #procrastinating ) but yeah choose one pls I'm so fucking indecisive it's insane-
Help me out?🥺( SUMMARIES UNDER THE CUT!! )
Housewardens reacting to their kid getting hurt because they didn't listen
Housewardens reacting to their daughter getting her first period
"Sorry, you're just really pretty — what were you saying?" Feat. The First Years
NRC dorms teaching their first years how to drive HCs
( Me button don't click pls & ty )
Voting ended onApr 26
Housewardens reacting to their kid getting hurt because they didn't listen
Summary: How would the housewardens react to their kid(s) getting hurt doing something they already warned them not to do?
Housewardens reacting to their daughter getting her first period
Summary: How would the housewardens react to their daughter getting her first period?
"Sorry, you're just really pretty — what were you saying?" Feat. The First Years
Summary: How do the first years react to you telling them that you were distracted by their beauty?
NRC dorms teaching their first years how to drive HCs
Summary: How would each dorm handle teaching their first year(s) how to drive?
( I'll start on whichever is in the lead in an hour or so ty guys in advance love yall MWAH MWAH MWAH 🖤 )
