silver x fem!reader smut. despite never being able to control whose dream he lands in, silver finds himself consistently landing in your dreams the entire week. unable to take it anymore, his yearning turns into something more than just admiring from afar, finding himself apologetically fucking your dream-self.
dream sex, yandere-esque obsessed silver, apologetic silver, slight dubcon at the start, reader has big tits, fondling, paizuri, cum swallowing, light praise, you’re both horny, post malleus overblot
a few months had passed since you, a magicless woman, enrolled in night raven college. you were given the title “prefect of ramshackle”, called it by many as you slowly gathered the respect of those around you as you held your own and even faced a multitude of overblots. silver had of course heard of you, even spoken with you a few times, but it was nothing that stood out to him until one afternoon. he had fallen asleep in the courtyard beneath a tree, suddenly remembering his after lunch lecture he was now late to. he had gotten up in a hurry, too sleep-fogged to even register his surroundings as his face smacks into something plush and soft? his head stays there for a few seconds before pushing back down, landing on what felt like fabric.
now with a few inches to see, he analyzes that his upper half was no longer on the ground, but instead on someone’s lap. his head had been laid on the fabric of your skirt, and what he found himself smacking against was not the tree or a wild animal this time, but your clothed breasts. silver wasn’t sure what to say in the moment as your fingers found your way to his head, tugging it to the side as you bend down to look at him. “good morning, silver,” you had cooed so sweetly while running your fingers through his hair. “did you have any sweet dreams?”
that was silver’s core memory of when he became aware of you not as a respectable classmate, but as a woman. you likely had more innocent thoughts, you had considered him a friend despite your brief chats. yet there he was, swinging his sword for the entire evening afterward without falling asleep once, confused by the sensation caused by the replaying scene in his mind. his awareness of you only became worse from then forth, especially during malleus’ overblot. the way your fingers wrapped around his bicep as he used his unique magic. the cute face you’d made as you tried not to cry from a nasty sting after stumbling during your walk through the lush forest, not willing to cry in front of trained fae soldiers. and even the way you had helped bring him back had his heart thumping, hard. despite the threat of malleus’ overblot no longer keeping the two of you connected, you kept by his side, making sure he was okay with the revelation of being the enemy’s son.
what started as occasional drifting thoughts or catching himself wondering if you would like something he ate, or saw in a shop mirror, you began to fill his mind at all hours. silver had never felt such a way, and when he had compared it to the closest thing he could think of, sebek, he thought it may of been a great admiration. you were formidable. you held your ground. you were kind. soft. pretty. plush. tits. he felt a heat rise in his pants that he had never felt before his thoughts about you. rather than respect, his feelings weren’t pure and wholeheartedly and it was then he finally considered that he may of have a bigger kind of affinity for you.
he had started to wish he could see you at all times. that was all he remembered before drifting to sleep, but “waking” elsewhere. the place seemed in a sense, familiar to him, but you were laughing and he immediately noticed you, towards his right sitting at the end of a long table they used at heartslabyul. you were laughing and speaking with your friends, and he observed. he immediately backed away without thinking and watched from the shadow. he recognized the dorm from the dreams visited, and the sensation felt similar to when he used his magic, confirming it, knowing that you were the dreamer.
it was the first time he successfully landed in someone’s dream on his own just by thinking of entering their dream. he was satisfied with this much, watching you throughout the entirety of the dream. your subconscious habits reflected, and he took note of them. the way your fingers grazed the teacup, your laughter, the way you’d eat, all of that ingrained in his memory as he was more than happy with that. when he woke up, he felt refreshed. he had passed by you in the halls later the very next day, and you seemed obvious. he had decided to not make himself known, or tell you he’d landed in your dream, against his better judgement and desire to apologize for doing so. although he felt bad, that same night he had desired to see your dreams again, and he had landed in your dream once more, continuing throughout the week.
it was like clockwork, like a routine that he came to enjoy. he fell asleep and woke up somewhere where you were dreaming, though some of them made him feel like a pervert. in one of the dreams you were at the beach, breasts out and oblivious. in another you were enjoying a trip to the town, dressed in such a pretty outfit that he was worried someone would try and touch you, though it was a dream. today, however, he may of hit his limit. perhaps you were influenced by an earlier conversation you had with malleus, delighted to stop by diasomnia sometime for tea and an afternoon chat, but it was taking all of his willpower to act normal.
you had never noticed him beforehand, but you must of thought this version of him was a dream’s. your dreams self eagerly greeted him, your soft and plush breasts pressing against his arm as you hold onto him, telling him your reason of visit. it was a different sensation than the real world, knowing you likely wouldn’t remember the dream as he recalls the subtle hints he dropped the first time as you were confused by what he was talking about, as heartslabyul hadn’t had an unbirthday in awhile. he knew there would be no consequence, but still felt like he was a terrible person as you dragged him to the common lounge, sitting by his side as his eyes occasionally roamed your body, still cling to him.
he knew you felt safe. he wasn’t lecherous or a man of ill-will in the slightest is what you told him when you let out a sigh of relief once—complaining about how some other men don’t take a hint. there was nothing more to this, you just felt secure in his presence. that’s all. that’s all. that’s all. he was jealous of those, embarrassingly so, who could be so brazen as to court you, to leer at you openly, when he knew he was a pervert masquerading as normal, a liar. he felt filthy, but he couldn’t help the growing bulge in his pants as his fingers twitch, glancing at you.
you noticed his staring, like a hunger brewing. your eyes drifted down as his fingers grab at your arm, breath hitched. he knew at this point he could still turn back, maybe even force himself awake before things went too far and yet his fingers drove into your wrist, tugging you up and carrying you in his arms as he carried you towards the sanctity of his room, knowing that since this is a dream you wouldn’t know his roommate and you wouldn’t fill in the gaps leaving the both of you alone, the dream versions of the diasomnia students you did know laying flat and unmoving as the dream you forgot about them.
he kept uttering apologies. pleas for forgiveness from you as he opened the door to his room. you had been there once, but some of the details weren’t all there. it was good enough, reminding him and grounding him a bit that this was just a dream, and this was not actually happening. you looked so confused as he set you on his bed, legs wrapped around his waist as he rubbed at your knees then upper thighs as he leaned down to press a kiss to your dreaming self’s lips. he ignored the fact that you weren’t a dream npc, you were a dreamer who just conveniently would not remember the aftermath as he pushed further.
you naturally parted your lips, shocked by the suddenly directness of silver, never knowing him to be one so direct or even yearning. his kiss was needy, desperate for more as he kissed deeper. although he wanted to treat you delicately, his instincts were taking control as he briefly pulled away, ingraining the sight of you gasping for air, going back down for another kiss. your fingers lose themselves in his hair, tugging when your lack of oxygen starts to burn your lungs, breathing heavily and letting out a moan as his hands move towards your clothed breasts, peeling off the uniform’s outer layer and groping you through the white shirt. your dream self was already in a daze, and he had just started. he had wanted to, and now he finally got to fondle your chest that he constantly admired from a respectable distance.
they were full, just as big as when he woke up and hit them before. although he was a trained soldier, his hands felt shaky as he undid your buttons, the nerves and self-hatred in the moment getting to him as he buried his face momentarily in your neck, inhaling your scent. this was the closest he believed he could get to you, without ever breaking the current place the two of you were in as he feared that if you saw him as one of those men who were lecherous and only cared about flings, you wouldn’t want to be near him.
he was one of those men. he was the filthiest—obsessed with your very being. he needed and wanted to see you laid bare and love what was beneath the clothes as he finished taking it off, struggling with the bra. he knew there were hooks, but he didn’t actually know how to remove it, watching the way you cover your eyes with your arm, embarrassed, but using the other to make its way to your back and help his fingers tug it off properly. that was enough for silver to actually believe that perhaps, somehow, maybe you did want him as much as he wanted you.
his mouth felt dry as he stared at your exposed chest. Without a bra, they felt even bigger as his calloused fingers rubbed at them. he wasn’t sure what he was doing exactly, driven by instinct, by your reactions seemed pleasured. your breasts filled his hands and spilled some, squished together they were large, and he admired that if he pushed them up it partially covered your face when he leaned down a little to take a lick. his eyes remained focused on you the entire time as his lips closed around the nipple, taking it into his mouth and sucking.
he started slow, gentle. he hated the thought of your “first” time, even if this were just a dream you and not physical you, being overtly rough. it would be alright. his mouth was warm while your body felt cold, nipples hardened as he swirled his tongue around it, fingers massaging at the excess soft flesh in his hands, making you moan. you were enjoying it, legs tightening around him as his teeth accidentally graze you, making you whimper. he pulls off with a pop, immediately checking in on you. “i’m so sorry..” he whispers.
you reassure him that you were fine, and silver’s cheeks flush a brilliant shade of red before he dips back down on your neglected perky nipple, suckling the other one but being careful to not nip. there’s more vigor, however—turned on by the way sweat trickled down your face and moans getting louder. he wondered whether there could ever come a day he hears them in person, but for now he’s more than happy with just your dream self, admiring and fucking you this way.
he continues for several minutes just sucking, massaging, and kissing your breasts before pulling up. his eyes were glued to the mess he made, hesitating for a split second, pulling you up onto your knees, propping his pillow up under them as he reaches for his zipper. you didn’t seem opposed, licking your lips now as you stare at his bulge beneath his briefs, the imprint captivating you. you were nervous at first, but now it seems like you were excited. silver couldn’t help but wonder if you maybe felt the same as him, but he knew he was a bigger and nastier pervert than you’d ever be.
after all, here he was taking advantage of you who he swore to protect ever since that fateful day, tugging his cock out. the red tip matched his clouded expression, slick precum pooling from the top. your fingers find their way to his hands, bringing them to your chest and grabbing down hard, moving yourself closer so that his tip pokes at your chest, swallowing it. it glides through, and silver’s face scrunches into a scowl as he tries to control himself. it was too much, you were beautiful. “so pretty, so soft, you’re so beautiful.” silver praises, muttering out how well you’re doing despite his contrasting expression.
“it feels so good, you’re so perfect.” he continues, pushing your breasts tighter together as his slick covered cock fucks itself between them. they were just like he imagined, warm and soft. he yearned for this, for so long and now here he was with you encouraging him to speed up, moving his hands. it comes to a halt as his cock twitches, and you lean down, taking it down your throat and sucking at what you could before his cum shot down your throat. you gracefully pulled off with a pop, swallowing it all as your dreaming self looked up at silver, bringing your face closer. silver leans in with zero hesitation, lips crashing against yours’ as the taste of his cum is still fresh, but he didn’t even care.
instead, he tries to tell you something, but the two of you are pulled away. silver panics, but realizes that you had woken up, as he wakes in his own room, chest heaving and hot as he stares at his ceiling. the memory was still fresh, and he wanted to recall every little detail before he got ready for the day, before he had to see you later—feeling like an absolute piece of shit for what he had done. he knew that you wouldn’t remember, but that still didn’t help the feeling of how much of a terrible man he was.
you, on the otherhand, had woken up and stared at your own ceiling, making sure the coast was clear before moving your hand down to your panties and feeling the pooled slick. “ugh, that was so realistic, too..” you groan. you had started to form a minor crush on silver recently, and you were excited to dream of him but you never expected yourself to have such a dirty dream… but maybe it was a sign from your subconscious? either way, it’s going be a little awkward talking to him after he’s been nothing but kind and chivalrous to you, all while you were a huge pervert and had a dream of fucking him. you imagine he’d think of you as nothing but a degenerative pervert, if he knew.
·˚ when you bite down hard on them during intimacy₊˚⊹♡. ... their reactions ! ✶⋆.˚
°❀ featuring ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ .. trey, cater, leona, azul, jade, floyd, and vil !
....i kinda like my men pathetic. uhm. yay azul! ?? (aka this may seem ooc, but it's two am bro.) u can kinda see where i got lazy, enjoy freaks ! dw, im one too
✶⋆.˚ unedited writing, NSFW !
t. clover ༉‧₊˚.
with his fingers tangled in your hair, you lick up his thigh and place a gentle kiss close to his groin—your hands under his knees as he's spread wide for you on the bed.
just to be a little prick, seeing how turned on his was already getting without even taking your bottoms off, and him still in his boxers, you bite down on his soft skin. close to his inner thigh. his reaction was immediate.
a strong yet strained noise comes out of his lips, and trey bows his head down breathing heavily. your fingers gently trace along his waistband, biting your lip you stare up at him.
"you..." trey breathes, "are a naughty girl~" closing his legs to gently trap you between his thighs and dick, "you know, i thought i'd be the one to eat you out tonight..." he teases, "but you seem to be doing my job for me.."
you giggle slightly, a soft blush on your face as you slowly peel off his boxers.
c. diamond ༉‧₊˚.
you crawled between your boyfriend's legs, which were spread for you to squat between and rest your cheek against his bare thigh.
cater was seated above you on the bed, phone already in one hand and the other gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing over your lip. you didn't even touch him yet, and he was already whimpering at your presence.
you decided to make yourself the one to humiliate yourself, you wanted revenge. instead of sucking him off immediately, you open your mouth just to bite into his inner thigh, teeth marks a deep shade of red on his skin.
"oh~OwHwA!!— heyyy!"
this man pouts, actually pouts. his fingers now curled around your hair as he leaned close, ignoring the sting on his thigh.
"ngh, come on! m'sorry for making fun of you baby, but please! just fuck me already, you don't even have to suck me anymore!"
pathetic.
l. kingscholar ༉‧₊˚.
it all started with you simply trying to wake him up because he promised you a date night; yet of course, leona convinced you to stay in bed with him. once stripped from your shirt and jeans, only left in your bra and underwear, the prince took his time leaning you into a comfortable position before getting you between his legs.
with him bare before you, legs spread and fingers in your hair, you left side kisses along his thigh to warm him up. how utterly foolish of you—he grumbles for you to hurry up.
you did not take that tone lightly, at all.
with a sudden anger you bit down hard against his thigh, not even in a soft way—just a rough, hard chomp on his skin. teeth marks stained his leg as he lets out a strained groan, chest heavy and body suddenly super hot.
"o-oi!" he growls, "you got a death wish?! ah-do that again and i'll-nmh-break your damn back...holy-fuck!!
a. ashengrotto ༉‧₊˚.
you convinced him to have office sex, and it was pretty easy. there was no one to bother him, no meetings or clients—jade and floyd handling the lounge this hour, and having more time with you?
azul just couldn't say no when he finally saw you under his desk, spreading his legs slowly apart and unzipping his pants. azul bites his lip, pen shaking in his hands when you kissed him. soft, lips gentle and almost about to do it again—until you got an idea.
just to be a brat, to hear him moan and struggle to cover it up, you bite his thigh. hard, leaving a mark as you pulled away. azul slams his face into the table, hat fallen to the floor beside you and his body sweating.
he let out soft moans as you continued to bite him gently, starting from his knee and up his length. you loved hearing the sound of his pathetic moans.
j. leech ༉‧₊˚.
you wanted something different, something exciting. and when you propose this idea to jade, he couldn't refuse with that awfully adorable look on your face. and it was worth seeing it between his legs, sitting before him in nothing but your matching set you bought just for him.
he loves seeing you in lingerie that's his favorite color. he's already turned on, you haven't even touched him yet. he's honestly about to become a wreck.
you pulled down his boxers and kissed down his stomach and to his base, your fingers curled under his knees to keep him spread apart.
you finally bite down on his skin, wet and cold, you pull back to see the mark you left. and when you glanced back up at you boyfriend he was already face stuffed with a pillow, pathetic noises leaking out as you finally sucked him off.
f. leech ༉‧₊˚.
he got bored of the same old positions, hence why everyday time you do it you're left with a sore back. this timez floyd wanted to be bottom and have you top him.
it got him all excited he was stripped before you were, but you told him to keep his boxers on, to which he reluctantly did. pouting the entire time you teased him, he hated it. he barked at you to get on with it, to suck him off or finger him, WHATEVER.
"shrimpyyy, hurry up! your burning daylight over here~" He whined, arching his hips close to your lips.
getting fed up with his consent complaining, you bite down on his thigh, just close enough to his dick and he howled. that just pissed him off even more, but when you started to flutter gently kisses and throw in a few rough sucks—he suddenly forgot his own damn name.
v. schoenheit ༉‧₊˚.
vil grips your chin to gently force you to look at you, your body sat comfortably between his legs, head between his thighs, spread wide for you on the bed.
you were teasing him with kisses, soft and playful, gently tickling him as he grumbled about how naughty your are acting. edging him on this way, making him wait.
once you finally get enough, you leaned down to bite his thigh playfully—first gentle, and then rough. vil yells shortly, squishing your head between his thighs to glare down at you.
"look at me," he breathed, once again forcing you to stare up at him, your eyes met his glossy ones. "How uncouth, biting me like that all of a sudden. I think i deserve an apology, don't you think?
tags/warnings: jamil x reader (romantic), gn!reader, reader is yuu, jamil's POV, established relationship, vague/inaccurate description of basketball bc i’m not a baller 😔, not proofread as always bc i don’t have patience (i will probs make edits periodically)
a/n: inspired by this request, sorry it took SO LONG 😭 the writer’s block is REALLY kicking my ass… i’m not super satisfied with this but i’m just glad it’s done and out :’) definitely in my leona-loving era rn but each time i listen to jamil’s solo song I AM RE-JAMIL-BRAINED. HOLY FUTABA KANAME HE HAS THE VOICE OF A GORGEOUS SIREN. on an actual fic-related note, basketball jerseys typically aren’t custom-made for public schools, but for this fic, we’re gonna say it’s different for fancy private magic schools hehe
DO NOT FEED TO AI.
word count: 2.6k
dividers by @/firefly-graphics!
I.
Jamil is organized. Never a day unscheduled, never an action unjustified, never a hair out of place. Naturally, Jamil doesn't misplace things. He leaves that to Kalim, who loses enough stuff for the both of them (and which Jamil is also responsible for finding). It's a complete waste of time.
Thus, every belonging of Jamil's has a designated place. His hoodie, for instance, is folded neatly and placed on the top shelf of his dresser. He takes it from that place when he is to wear it, and once taken off, it returns to that place. The only exception to that is laundry day.
So when Jamil, on a non-laundry day, opens his dresser to find nothing on the top shelf, the anomaly is akin to breaking the law of gravity.
His first instinct is to question Kalim. It wouldn't be the first time he's taken or moved Jamil's stuff without asking.
But when asked, Kalim replies, "Your hoodie? Hmmm... I don't think I took it…"
So it wasn't him.
"But now that I'm thinking back, maybe…?" he continues. "But I don't think so! But maybe..."
Or it probably wasn't him. Jamil will just have to take his (first) word for it.
The next suspect is Jamil's roommate. Not because the guy is particularly suspicious, but because they do share a room, after all. Things tend to get mixed up in a shared room.
His roommate's underwhelming reply: "The red one you usually wear? Nah, sorry, haven't seen it. Have you asked Housewarden Kalim if he knows where it is?"
"He doesn't. But thanks.”
Jamil's final suspect is you. The possibility is too far-fetched though; you've never taken anything from him, you have no reason to do so, and you haven't even been to his room recently (all of the above to his well-concealed disappointment). So he decides against bothering you about it.
In short: your boyfriend really has no idea where his hoodie has gone. But no matter, he has a spare. It's a generic solid black and made of a cheaper material, but it'll do as a temporary replacement until he finds his usual one.
As Jamil makes his way to class, you’re the first to remark on the change.
You skip up to him from behind, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “You look good in black,” you whisper, running off toward your class before Jamil has the chance to respond. Not that he’d have the composure to respond anyways, even if you’d stayed.
You look good in black.
You look good in black.
You look good in black.
Your compliment echoes through his mind all day, during class, during lunch, during club, during chores. Though you’ve been together for a little while now, Jamil’s still not immune to your charm.
He doesn’t even mind that he has to wear his spare for the next few days. Of course he doesn’t mind: you like how he looks in it.
It isn’t until next laundry day that the hoodie is finally found.
“Turns out, I did have it!” Jamil’s roommate chuckles, holding it out to him. “My bad, bro. I guess it ended up mixed in with my laundry.”
“It’s fine,” Jamil sighs, taking the article back. “Just glad it wasn’t actually lost.”
As Jamil tosses it into his own laundry pile, he catches a whiff of the fabric and the image of you materializes in his brain: clad in his hoodie and your usual pyjama pants, you’re lounging around Ramshackle, nestling adorably into the plush clothes.
He wishes he could’ve seen it in person—wait, what is he talking about? He shakes his head to dissipate the thought. That was just a fantasy; you didn’t touch the thing, you haven’t even stopped by Scarabia recently. But still—
Jamil retrieves the hoodie.
…No, it’s just wishful thinking.
He throws it back into the pile to be washed with the rest of his dirty laundry.
The moment he pulls it out the dryer, Jamil plunges his nose into the clean fabric. It smells of nothing but fresh laundry.
Good. I don’t want lingering scents on my clothes. It would be bothersome if it still smelled after washing.
That’s what Jamil tells himself.
But deep, deep, deep down, against all logic, he hopes that it was miraculously you whose scent was on his hoodie, and he wishes it still smelled of you. He would sooner shave his head and smack Kalim across the face with the chopped-off ponytail than ever admit that, though.
II.
It’s laundry day again. Among other things.
On top of laundry, Jamil still has to tutor Kalim, fill out paperwork for the dorm (on Kalim’s behalf), cook up a feast for yet another party that Kalim is throwing tonight, and then look after himself. But a never-ending to-do list is nothing new for your boyfriend.
He deeply appreciates how you come to Scarabia to help him shoulder the load, though. When Kalim begins to get sidetracked during homework, you nudge him back in the right direction. When Jamil is busy duel-wielding pans on the stove, you help him wash and chop ingredients. When Jamil needs just a second to breathe, you’re there to massage his shoulders.
He has you to thank when he finally reaches the bottom of his to-do list, and slightly ahead of schedule at that. All he has left to do is his laundry, so you supervise Kalim on his behalf in the meantime.
But of course, Jamil can’t get through a single day without something going wrong. His go-to washing machine was busted a few days ago by his dormmates, so Jamil now has to use a different, less reliable machine. And because he hasn’t vetted this one, he can’t say for sure whether it’ll eat his socks or not.
Well, good news: the machine does not end up swallowing his socks.
Bad news: it eats his basketball jersey instead. Which is objectively and significantly worse.
When Jamil realizes the jersey that he definitely put into the washing machine will not be coming out of said machine, he has to consciously restrain himself from collapsing into a sulky ball of exasperation.
He has a basketball game tomorrow.
But fortunately, as unlucky as Jamil is, he is equally as prepared. One perk of being a second-year Basketball Club member is that he still has his old jersey from last year. The design is slightly different so he won’t match with his teammates, but it’s certainly better than nothing.
“Hey, what’s with the weird jersey?” Ace is annoyingly more observant than Jamil would like to give him credit for and just as nosy.
“Laundry mishap,” Jamil replies bluntly, focussing on warming up. If only Ace would do the same.
“Hah!” the redhead barks. “I guess even the Great Jamil makes mistakes~”
Great Jamil simply glares. “It was the machine.”
“Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”
How are you friends with this guy?
NRC vs. RSA. It’s only an exhibition game so it technically doesn’t matter, but losing now would crush the team’s morale in the long run. Plus, it would be very satisfying to make RSA taste defeat for once.
Unfortunately, playing against RSA is always an uphill battle, and it doesn’t help that Floyd isn’t in a basketball mood (he didn’t even bother showing up). Thus NRC’s slim chance of victory is basically banking on Jamil. No pressure.
The bleachers are filled almost exclusively with RSA students, which is strange considering it’s an away game for them, and yet not strange considering their notorious school spirit. Though Jamil lacks the time to find you in the sea of goody-two-shoes, he has full faith that you’re here. You never fail to support him, a fact that gives Jamil a comforting sense of security.
Three quarters into the game, RSA is in the lead. It’s not impossible to make a comeback and Jamil makes sure to gradually close the gap with all the time he’s on the court, but it’s clear that NRC is losing steam.
And then, when he shoots a beautiful 3-pointer in the last couple seconds of the quarter, Jamil hears you over the buzzer.
“WOOO SWIIIISH!!! THAT’S MY BOYFRIEND!”
He whips his head around, scanning the crowd for you. And then he spots you…
“I LOVE YOU, JAMIL!!!”
…wearing his jersey. The one that the washing machine ate. Or that he thought it ate.
He doesn’t know if he feels more embarrassed or flattered.
The second you lock eyes, a cheeky grin blooms on your face and you exit the bleachers. On the same wavelength, Jamil makes his way to meet you outside the gym.
“So it was you.”
“Straight to the point, huh?” you chuckle, and Jamil’s heart skips a beat. “I knew you had this spare, so, y’know. Took it out of the washer when you were busy.”
“I’m the only one wearing the old design,” he sighs. “It’s not uniform.”
“If it bothers you that much, I could theoretically give it back to you now,” you offer, “but I’m not really wearing anything underneath…”
Jamil feels his face heat up. Hopefully you’ll just attribute his flush to physical exertion, but the way you smile at him so sweetly indicates otherwise. He’s not gonna let you win, though.
“Then we’ll swap.” Grasping the neckline of his jersey before you can catch on, Jamil slips it over his head.
Overlooking the jersey in his outstretched hand, you sputter, blatantly ogling your boyfriend’s bare chest and abs. While intense attention usually makes him uncomfortable, it’s different when it’s from you.
“You took my hoodie too, didn’t you?” he probes, feeling a hearty dose of pride at the way you fluster. You giggle guiltily. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Once you finally manage to collect yourself and change jerseys, Jamil hums in satisfaction at the sight. His clothes suit you.
“The last quarter’s gonna start,” you remind him nervously, pushing his rightful jersey into his hands. “Kick their asses, okay? I’ll be cheering you on!”
Needless to say, NRC wins the game. All thanks to the MVP Jamil, fuelled by your encouragement and the image of you in his jersey.
You don’t return it after the game, and Jamil doesn’t ask. If you were to bring it up, he’d simply say he forgot about it. He didn’t, of course, but please don’t question his claim.
(And please wear the jersey to all his games.)
III.
Following the two occurrences of his clothes going ‘missing’, the thought of you wearing his stuff plagues Jamil’s mind for weeks on end.
In every one of his thoughts and dreams, you’re wearing something of his. A t-shirt, sweatpants, tank top, sweater. Any or all of the above. Each time he puts something on, he no longer thinks about how he looks in it and instead thinks about how you’d look in it.
To Jamil’s dismay, it gets to the point where he’s almost shocked to see you in real life wearing your own clothes. And with the weather getting oddly frigid as of late, the sight of you layering every piece in your measly wardrobe is not only shocking, but concerning.
One particularly frosty Tuesday morning, Jamil finally decides to bring up his concern.
“I’m guessing you don’t have winter clothes,” he notes pointedly, eyeing your outfit. With what must be four t-shirts layered (read: stuffed) under your button down shirt, topped with your uniform blazer, this truly has to be every article in your possession. He casually takes hold of your bare hands. “Or gloves.”
Your freezing hands nestle into the warm embrace of his own mittened ones. “It’s fine,” you smile, nose flushed. “I’m inside pretty much the whole day.”
“Your classes are on the other side of campus,” he points out incredulously. “And then you have to walk all the way back to Ramshackle—does Ramshackle even have heating?”
You stay suspiciously quiet.
“You’re going to catch a cold. I’ll come by in the evening to give you warmer clothes.” His warmer clothes, that is.
Beaming at him, you sniffle. “Thanks, Jamil. I’ll try to stay inside as much as I can until then.”
After the day’s classes, your boyfriend abides by his word, putting together a care package of thermal socks, thermal underwear, gloves, a scarf, a toque, an overcoat, and his softest sw—wait, where’s his sweatshirt?
Jamil is mid-search when he remembers:
His significant other is a clothes thief. A wardrobe raider. A closet crook.
He sighs and makes his way to Ramshackle, incomplete care package in hand, knowing that it’ll be complete once it gets to you.
Wasting no time to prove him right, you open the door wearing it. And just like that, you’ve got Jamil’s heart in your sleeve-buried hands. You look so innocent and precious despite how you literally stole the clothes from under his nose. How ironic.
“Jamil?” you prompt after a moment, smirk barely repressed. “You coming in?”
Right. Coming in. You need stuff. The stuff he’s brought with him. Right.
“Yes,” he manages, somehow without any hint of fluster. “Now shut the door quickly before the cold gets in.”
Per Jamil’s ask, you close the creaky wooden door behind him.
“Here.” Jamil holds the package out to you, forcing himself to meet your eyes. The way your expression visibly lights up has him fighting the urge to turtle up in his hood and pull the drawstrings taut.
You gently take it from his hold, your brilliant smile unwavering. And then, to your boyfriend’s elation dismay, you lean in to kiss him on the cheek.
“Thanks,” you chuckle softly, turning to make your way upstairs. “I’m gonna go put these away, but I’ve got the fire on. Get yourself warm, ‘kay? Be right back!” You whiz away and Jamil makes quick work of shedding his jacket and shoes, hanging the former on your coat rack and swapping the latter for the designated pair of slippers you’ve set aside for him.
As he enters the lounge with the fireplace, Jamil notes that Ramshackle is actually warmer than he’d expected (not that the bar was high), a huge relief for him. You’re at least safe from freezing while in here, especially if you sit by the fire, like Jamil is right now.
“I’m gonna make some hot chocolate,” you call out. You must’ve returned downstairs while Jamil was distracted. “Want some?”
“Please,” he answers, trusting you enough that he doesn’t avert his gaze from the flames.
Minutes later, you deposit a cocoa-filled mug into his hands and plop yourself onto the nearby couch. The frigid wind taps a tree branch against the window, the muffled conversations between Grim and the resident ghosts can be barely heard through the cracks in the wood, and the fire crackles quite excitedly, but you and Jamil otherwise stew in comfortable silence. And then you take a quiet breath.
“Love you, Jamil.”
Jamil’s head shoots up and he takes in the sight of you: on your front, drowning in his baggy sweatshirt, feet kicking around slowly behind you.
Your squished cheeks resting in your palms, Jamil finds himself feeling a new way.
As a member of the Basketball Club, Jamil has front row seats to the questionable behaviour of Floyd Leech. One of the many things that Jamil never understood about the menace was his frequent urge to squeeze.
But with the way your eyes soften so sweetly as he stares into them, Jamil can’t help but realize:
Now he understands.
Jamil notices three new things the next day:
You’re appropriately dressed for the subzero weather. In his clothes, of course. Each time Jamil catches sight of you, he has to fight the urge to smirk and brag.
You’ve changed your phone background to a picture from yesterday: a selfie of you in Jamil’s sweatshirt, with said Jamil wrapping himself around you. Your smile in the photo is infectious.
One of his t-shirts has gone missing. He gets the feeling he knows who’s responsible.
you dodge jamil’s kiss one time and he takes it personally :(
tags/warnings: jamil x reader (romantic), established relationship, gn!reader, reader is yuu, slightly suggestive but sfw, 5+1 trope (inspired by rel124c41’s jade fic), plus like 10 other tropes, you get a fever and act probably OOC, jamil masks up, unserious hurt/comfort, not proof-read because i don't have the patience for that (i'll probably make little edits periodically)
a/n: this fic was born from this request :D super cute concept and on-brand for our wife jamil! i didn’t know how to end it so i just made it... uhhhh… i kinda made myself uncomfortable with how much y’all are making out
DO NOT FEED TO AI.
word count: 3k
dividers by @/firefly-graphics!
Jamil Viper is gorgeous. Jamil Viper is smart. Jamil Viper is understanding, diligent, talented, hot, ambitious, adorable, sweet, endearing… Every possible good thing under the sun, Jamil is.
But best of all, Jamil Viper is yours.
How you managed to pull the pinnacle of wife boyfriend material is beyond you. All you know is that you love him, and he loves you. That’s all that matters. End of story!
Except, there is one downside to dating Jamil, because he still is him after all, vice-housewarden of Scarabia and main servant to Kalim Al-Asim. Which unfortunately means that “free time” is a concept completely foreign to your beloved boyfriend.
Though you two spend as much time together as possible, you hardly ever have time alone with him. And with Jamil being PDA-averse, that means Jamil-kisses are rare, which is tragic considering how both of you are so heinously touch-starved.
But it’s okay! Because that means that Jamil-kisses are guaranteed whenever you two are alone. And boy, do you take advantage of that fact.
The second you’re alone, you’re all over each other, instantly, without fail. It’s almost embarrassing how whipped you are for him, but he’s so worth it. You steal him away to empty rooms and closets between classes, you convince Coach Vargas to let him skip on PE, you lie about needing his assistance when Kalim might actually need his help. It’s all fair game.
Right now, Scarabia is having yet another party, but that’s none of your business; you’re not there. You’re in Jamil’s room, with Jamil, making out with Jamil. The second you’d pulled him past the threshold and locked the door behind you, you’d snapped together like a pair of magnets. Lips and hands all over each other, Jamil wouldn’t be caught dead like this in public.
After who-knows-how-long of you two sucking face, Jamil speaks up again. “We should get back to the party,” he pants as you nurse on the soft skin by his throat, “Kalim and Grim probably need us.”
“Hmm,” you hum, kissing his jaw, then his cheek chastely before slowly pulling away. “Okay,” you whisper, gently fixing his hair and clothes as he does the same for you.
“Done?” you ask. “Do I look presentable?”
“Almost,” Jamil replies, breathy. He wipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb, making you grin. And when you look into his eyes, all you see is love. “You’re good now.”
And then he leans in to kiss you one more time.
“Whoa there,” you laugh, dodging his lips. “You had your chance earlier.”
Jamil pouts. “I’m your boyfriend.”
“Yes, and a good boyfriend wouldn’t mess up my appearance right after it’s been fixed,” you counter.
“So I matter less than your appearance now?”
“Yes,” you joke. “Come on, let’s go back.”
Jamil sulks the rest of the night.
You didn’t expect him to take your little joke so personally. But the next time you pull him aside, Jamil acts… strange.
“Did you need something, Prefect?” he demands instead of wordlessly kissing you like he should.
“Uh, yeah?” you stammer, perplexed.
“Please make it quick. I have a lot on my plate right now.”
You’re not gonna just grab him and kiss him; he doesn’t seem in the mood. That would be weird. So you just stare, jaw dropped, dumbfounded.
His face betrays nothing. Jamil is completely apathetic.
“If you don’t need anything, I’ll be returning to my duties,” he continues. “See you around, Prefect.”
Your mouth stays agape as you watch him leave the room. He doesn’t even look back.
What just happened?
The second time it happens is equally perplexing.
Kalim is throwing yet another party at the oasis over the weekend, so of course, you have to come as moral support for poor Jamil.
About half an hour into the celebration, Grim, being Grim, decides to say, “There’s less water than last time!” And of course, Kalim, being Kalim, takes that as his cue to Oasis Maker all over the place.
So Grim is soggy, Kalim is sopping, all his dormmates are well misted, you’re soaked, and Jamil is drenched. You towel Grim off, Jamil does the same for Kalim, and then it’s Jamil’s turn.
You grab a fresh towel from the basket and make your way towards your boyfriend, ready to pat him dry. But just as you’re about to make contact, Jamil ducks away from you to pick his bangle off the ground. (When did he even drop it?)
You try again. He slips out of your reach, rushing to stop Kalim from crashing into a tree during a game of Marco Polo.
When you finally catch up to him, he snags the towel from your hands before you can dry him off yourself. “Thank you,” he says, “you should dry yourself as well.”
You nod, dumbly, blankly, wordlessly in shock. And then you drift back to the basket to grab yourself a towel.
Everything after that is a blur. You don’t remember what you did for the rest of the party, nor do you remember how long you were there. Now, as Grim fills the silence with endless rambling during your trek back to Ramshackle, you replay that moment over and over again in your head. Halfway there, it dawns on you.
“Hold on a sec, Grim,” you say, stopping to pull out your phone.
“Make it quick, Henchhuman!” he whines. “I’m craving some tuna to wash down all that fruit!”
“Yeah, just hold on,” you respond mindlessly, drafting a text to your boyfriend.
is this punishment for not letting you kiss me that one time?
you send.
You prepare to put away your phone as Jamil usually takes a while to reply to your messages. But he texts back immediately:
I have no idea what you mean.
He clearly does have an idea what you mean. And you’ll take that as a yes.
Your new mission: Get Jamil’s resolve to crack.
After every Basketball Club meeting, Jamil lingers a bit longer than the other members for some solo practice. Such opportunities being few and far between, it’s nice that he has some time to himself.
Because of said solo practice, Jamil is generally the last one in the locker room, which is also nice. When your schedules line up, you usually swing by to squeeze in some extra time together.
Today, you would normally be busy at this time, and Jamil is fully aware of this. But you finished your tasks early just so you could give him a surprise visit. Emphasis on surprise.
As Jamil’s back is turned, busy opening his locker, you sneak up on him. You’re the epitome of stealth: you glide in on your tiptoes, you hold your breath. Not even a beastman’s ears could detect you coming. And once you’re within striking distance, you wrap your arms around him. He flinches.
“Hi, Jamil,” you coo sweetly, and he promptly melts in your arms. “I’ve missed you.”
For a second, you think that he might give in, but he tenses after a moment and slowly peels your arms off his torso.
“You saw me this morning,” he retorts, turning to face you. Arms crossed, brow raised, Jamil is serious about this little grudge.
Luckily, you’re equally serious about dispelling it. You drape your arms around his neck. “And?” you croon.
Jamil stares at your lips, then brings his gaze back up to your eyes. “And I’m sweaty,” he answers, twisting smoothly out of your embrace. “I’m sure you find me very gross right now. We don’t want me ‘messing up your appearance’ now, do we?”
“I knew it!” you squawk. “You are still stuck on that!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jamil replies apathetically, returning to his locker. “You just look so presentable right now, I couldn’t bear to ruin it with my sweaty self.”
This little snake!
“Jamiiiil!” you whine. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it. Please, I really miss you.”
You continue to pelt him with profuse apologies as he changes clothes, responding with half-hearted “uh-huh”s and “sure”s, and then some more until he’s finished changing.
“Right. I’ll see you tonight then,” he tells you flatly, as if you hadn’t been groveling at his feet for the past five minutes straight.
You pout. “...see you tonight.”
And then Jamil swings his gym bag over his shoulder, and marches straight out of the locker room without you.
Mission: Failed.
Surprisingly, Jamil is the one to approach you this time.
“You have something on your face, Prefect,” he tells you.
“Hmm?” you question, wiping your face. “Is it still there?”
“Yes.”
You brush again. “Where?”
“On your cheek,” he replies, pointing at it, not touching you.
You swipe the back of your hand across your cheek. “Still there?”
“Still there.”
Scrub.
“Still there.”
You sigh. “Can you please just get it for me?”
“I’m in a rush right now, Prefect,” Jamil declines, leisurely walking away. “Check yourself in the mirror.”
When you do check, it’s one tiny speck of glitter.
Jamil Viper is every good thing under the sun, sure. But Jamil Viper is also awful. Jamil Viper is prideful. Jamil Viper is petty, stubborn, annoying, cruel, a total pain in the ass.
And he’s supposed to be your boyfriend!
To be fair, you wouldn’t kiss yourself in this state either, ‘this state’ being a frog. But still, Jamil’s being so un-boyfriendly right now!
Ace had badly botched a potion during class, and then upon discovering that he’d accidentally made an illegal transformation potion (“It was an accident!”), he’d decided that it would be a good idea to sneak it into your smoothie when you weren’t looking. Totally cliché, the quickest reversal is ‘true love’s kiss’, so naturally, Ace literally threw you at Jamil and cackled, “Have fun, Prefect!”
So here you are, sitting in Jamil’s lovely palms, staring at him with your beady little eyes.
“I’m not kissing you,” Jamil states plainly.
‘I know,’ you’d say if you could. If he refuses to kiss you as a regular, non-slimy human being, there’s no way he’d kiss you as a weird little frog.
That’s understandable, fine by you. But it’s no reason to treat you like this!
“It’s been a while since I’ve cooked frog legs,” Jamil teases, smirking. “It’s nice that the ingredients came to me for a change.”
Sevens, you hope he’s joking.
While in class, one pesky fly decides to terrorize your boyfriend. So, like the exemplary frog that you are, you dart your tongue out and snap it into your mouth. When you look back at him, he’s equal parts relieved and horrified, eyes bulging.
“And you expect me to kiss you with that mouth?”
You spit the fly back out. It scampers away unharmed.
“I will actually smush you,” he hisses through his teeth.
You spend the rest of the day either tucked inside the breast pocket of his blazer, or on his shoulder. Luckily and surprisingly, Jamil makes no moves to cook you or to smush you.
When it’s time for bed, he puts you on his nightstand.
“Don’t move from there,” Jamil commands.
So naturally, you ignore him and hop to his bed. He picks you up and sticks you back on the table.
“Stay.”
You spring over to him.
“Stop that.” He grabs you and plops you down on the nightstand.
You leap straight back into his hands.
“Prefect—” he rebukes, “If you don’t want to be crushed, then you’d best stay put.”
In response, you simply sprawl out in his palms, drinking in the feeling of his touch. And then you stick your tongue to his skin in a little froggy kiss, and let out a little beep, which is apparently one of the sounds that you can do.
Jamil promptly drops you onto the nightstand. “I’m washing my hands,” he announces as he leaves the room.
When you wake up in the morning, you’re in Jamil’s bed, human again, and Jamil is long gone.
Being sick seriously sucks.
Somehow, you’ve caught pneumonia, and none of your friends got sick with you. It’s a good thing! You’re happy for them, that they don’t have to suffer like you do! But also, WHY DID IT HAVE TO BE YOU. (It’s probably Grim’s fault, but him being a direbeast, he’s immune to sickness. Dammit, Grim.)
You’re coughing and fever-brained in your dorm, and Grim is off doing who-knows-what. You couldn’t care less right now; you’re too busy hallucinating that the Great Seven are dancing little jigs at the foot of your bed.
When they finally conga line their way out of your room, you’re left alone with your delirious thoughts. Namely, just how alone you are. Thank goodness you’re not completely alone; you have the ghosts after all, but they don’t really compare to a live person.
And you really miss Jamil.
You must’ve really hurt his feelings with your joke that one night! You need to apologize again, even though you’ve done it a thousand times already. A thousand times isn’t enough. You’ll apologize until the end of time as long as it means Jamil will forgive you.
You hack so hard it feels like your lungs will invert.
All of a sudden, your phone is in your hand, and you’re calling him.
“Prefect?” you hear distantly.
“I’m sorry, Jamil! I’m—KHACK—I’m so so—KEUGHH—so sorry!”
“Where are you? I didn’t see you at school. Are you sick?” So many questions…
“I miss you…” you sob, then cough again. “I’m sorry!” Your vision’s all blurry now.
“It’s okay,” his voice rings out. “Where are you? Are you in your dorm?”
Cough.
“Are you in your dorm?” he repeats, slower.
“Yeah,” you rasp. You miss Jamil.
“I’ll be right there, okay? I’ll see you soon.”
“I miss you,” you cough out. “I’m sorry~!”
“It’s okay, Prefect,” he replies. “I’m gonna hang up now.”
You whimper very sadly and very loudly as he hangs up. And then you immediately pass out.
Even with the entire bottom of their face covered, this is the most beautiful person ever. An angel. The first thing you see after opening your eyes and it’s a gorgeous angel. The blurriness of the tears in your eyes really adds to the heavenly effect, too.
“So pretty,” you mumble.
The beauty looks at you with their piercing eyes and puts a hand on your forehead.
“You’re awake,” their fittingly melodic voice sings out.
“Did I die?” you manage between wheezes. “Where’s Jamil?”
“Sevens, you’re out of it,” they sigh. “I’m right here.”
“Jamil?” you parrot between coughs.
“Yes, Prefect. I’m here.”
You jolt upright, eyes promptly watering anew.
“I’m sorry, Jamil!” you cry. “I didn’t mean to—KEURK—to hurt your feelings!”
Jamil doesn’t say anything, simply rubbing your back.
You rub at your eyes. “Please don’t leave me…” you plead.
“What are you talking about? I’m not going anywhere.”
“No, you’re—HAUGK—you’re gonna leave me cuz you don’t love me anymore!” you whine. “I’m sorry! I made you not love me anymore…!”
At that, Jamil grabs your face and stares right into your eyes. “Stop saying that,” he scolds. “I do love you.”
You pull his hands off your cheeks to cough away from his face. “You don’t let me kiss you,” you wail, “and you don’t even wanna touch me anymore…”
“I didn’t think you’d take it this seriously…” he grumbles. “You never tried to kiss me.”
“If I did—HRUGHK KUH—If I did, you’d get mad!” you accuse.
“I would not,” he retorts. “...If you kissed me, I would’ve folded instantly."
You stare at him with wide, watery eyes, and he averts his gaze. “I wish you would’ve kissed me sooner," he continues, mumbling, "so that I could stop pretending like I don’t want you to."
You have nothing to say to that. (You do softly cough, though.) But gently, you take hold of his hand and press a kiss to his knuckles.
“I love you, Jamil,” you rasp.
He takes a shaky breath. “...I need you to get better fast. I brought medicine, soup, everything you might need,” Jamil blurts. “Fast, okay?”
“Okay~” you agree. “Are you gonna leave?”
“Not yet,” he replies. “Kalim can survive on his own for a couple of hours.”
If it means that Jamil will take care of you, maybe being sick isn’t so bad.
Turns out, the power of love, Jamil, and modern medicine can curb a serious sickness in four days flat. The moment you got better, you and Jamil reunited like nothing happened, or better yet, like something good happened.
“Jamil—!” you gasp between kisses. “Sevens—!”
As much as you want to tell him to calm down, you refuse to make the same mistake that you did before. Besides, you’re not complaining.
One hand in your hair and the other up your shirt, Jamil kisses you like it’s a matter of life and death. “Shhh,” he purrs, making his way down your neck, making you hum.
Though your memory of being sick is fuzzy, you don’t regret whatever you did, because Jamil is now about twice as affectionate as before. (You can only hope that you behaved with at least some composure and didn’t cough all over him.) Plus, now, he steals you away almost as much as you do him.
In fact, for this weekend, Jamil has stolen you away to his home in the Scalding Sands. And you’re currently making out in his childhood bedroom.
By the time you’re done, you’re both out of breath, your entire upper body is kiss-bruised, and you’re happy as a lark. “I love you, Jamil,” you whisper as he holds you in his arms.
Jamil gazes back down at you, lovingly. “I love you too. And I’m very grateful that you’re not saying ‘sorry’ anymore.”
“...did I say it that much?”
He raises an eyebrow at you.
“Well… Am I forgiven, at least?”
Jamil simply leans in and kisses you. “Yes, I forgive you.”
Intro: He doesn't understand why you keep getting closer and closer to him, even after all he's done. You don't understand why you love him, either.
Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, not proofread it's too long for me to give a fuck, reader is like simp 100%, book 4-5 spoilers ig, not canon happenings huehuehue, kinda disconnected but like, all my songfics are disconnected so idk, i was half asleep writing the latter parts, so it'll be messy for sure
A/N: Jamil my babygirl~ The people don't enjoy my Twisted Harmonies series, but I don't care because I like writing them. This one went through a couple edits though.
Masterlist
Don't run from me river
Don't run from me river, river
No don't run from me river
Don't run from me river, river
Meeting Jamil was the start of living for you.
Coasting through life back in your old world; everyday was a chore you had to get through in order to continue existing. When you got magically transported to a place with magic and new cultures and new people, it was like you finally got back to the same starting point as everyone else.
But seeing those dark gray eyes and long brown tresses, it made your heart beat for the first time.
A beauty that seems to want to go unnoticed, but how could you ignore him when his radiance filled your very being as naturally as oxygen filled your lungs? When he hid in his mask of incompetence and facade of normalcy, what can you do but trip over your own feet and fall? You see him, and the only thing you want to do is to be closer to him, enough to peel back that visage of mystery, to read him like an open book. Jamil is like a mirage in the deserts of the Scalding Sands, however, you know that the moment you reach out to touch him, he’ll fade away right in front of you.
So you keep watching.
You can’t do anything but watch.
You watch him plot and plan and fall victim to his own schemes. You watch him boil together the mess of feelings he doesn’t know how to release. You watch him bathe in his misery, you watch him drown in it.
You keep your hand to yourself instead of offering it.
You know he’ll never take it.
Look, you can play it cool
Act like you don't care
River don't be cruel
You're pushing me away
You’re interesting.
Jamil doesn’t care about much, and he certainly doesn’t care about you.
But a magicless human barreling into his world (literally) at orientation? You’ve got his interest peaked, at least. That’s it. He doesn’t care enough to give you a second glance. The only thing he knows about you is that you’re from a different world. But rumors always spread like wildfire, and suddenly, you’re the talk of the school. Riddle overblotted and you, somehow, are on center stage. In the Spelldrive tournament, he doesn’t know too much about what transpired, but what he does know is that you’re involved again somehow.
You could be useful.
You could be an asset to him, a boon if used correctly.
1, 2, 3, pieces fall into place.
Kalim is powerful, even if he doesn’t know it. But you, you’re Crowley’s little helper, aren’t you? You can make the headmaster look at the problem head on, instead of cowing to the Al Asims’ money. When everyone in Scarabia, and even Ramshackle’s prefect themself, is saying that Kalim is no longer fit to be housewarden, then wouldn’t the headmaster need to listen?
Stay.
Stay for another dinner. Another night. Another training session.
Stay until you’re useless to Jamil.
Don't want to get hurt
So you hurt me first
With the words you say
Maybe you should fall
Hah. You ruined his plans.
He lays on the floor, soaked in ink and sweat and tears, the forbidden taste of freedom lingering on his tongue. Azul and the twins are looking at him with mild amusement, even though he could clearly see they were just as injured, just as tired as he was. But he can’t read you. Even under snake whisper, he never understands what’s in your mind. You’re looking at him with an expression he can’t place, you give him a feeling he can’t shake. He’s lightheaded, he doesn’t really know where to go from here—when the adrenaline runs out and blood returns to his veins, Jamil has no idea what to do.
He hurt Kalim.
He hurt his dorm.
He hurt you.
Is that all he can do? When the chains that bind him are momentarily unlocked, is hurting other people the only thing he’s good at?
He meets your eyes.
There it is again; an emotion he doesn’t get. Are you pitying him? Is it empathy, sympathy? What do you want from him?
There is nothing that Jamil Viper can offer you.
Not when he doesn’t even belong to himself.
That's what rivers do
'Cause when you're in love
You don't mind a different view
Things are looking up
You think it’s unfair how beautiful Jamil is, even defeated and down on his knees. You ignore Grim for a moment to skirt around the black substance on the floor, making your way to Jamil. He looks at you warily, reminiscent of a wild animal that’s cautious, and rightly so, of a strange being entering its territory.
You hold your hand out.
You should know better than to hope that today is finally the day that he takes it.
But he does.
It’s more than what you imagined it to be. In your dreams, the boy that you love takes it with a flustered face and an awkward smile, hands clammy with sweat. In reality, the very first time that Jamil ever takes your hand, there’s a determined look on his face and sludge on his palms. He’s tiredly glaring at you, likely internally cursing you out for ruining his evil plans. With the way his pretty eyes are slightly squinted, brows furrowed and lips curved downwards into a frown, you think it’s so much better than your fantasies.
Because it’s the real Jamil.
And his grip kind of hurts when you help him up, but he doesn’t complain when you make him lean on your shoulder for support. You help him back to his room.
Everything’s over. For now.
But for you and your poor heart, it’s all just begun.
Maybe this is the step you’d needed to get closer to him? Maybe this is the part of the cheesy romantic movie where he lets you in after troubles and tribulations? Maybe this time, you can get to know who he really is.
Strip away the practiced incompetence. Take off his cloak made of calculated errors.
So, it’s decided.
From now on, you’ll find out everything about Jamil, and you’ll give and give and give and give, if only to replace the parts he’d had to give away over the years.
You’re both broken.
But maybe if you give him the parts of you that are still working, at least one of you can be fixed.
Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)
Don't run (river, river)
Don't run (run, run)
Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)
Don't run (river, river) from our love (run, run)
He wakes up in the infirmary. It’s still you.
Why are you still here?
Leave. Leave him alone. He doesn’t deserve your gentle care, not when it’s his fault, not when he’s the reason both for your and his own injuries. You never say a word, but you redress his wounds so carefully, making sure not to hurt him in the process.
What do you get out of this?
He genuinely doesn’t understand.
Jamil has never been kind to you, no, he’s always done what he needed to do in order to get you to move according to the script he’d written. He’d toyed with you, manipulated you, don’t you understand? He lied, because lying is his nature, because you’re just so gullible, you never even thought twice before believing any of his words.
Why don’t you get it?
You hand him a packet of cookies. Cheap ones from the school store, but judging by the way you’re dressed, and what little knowledge he has of your financial situation, he knows it’s all you have on you. He takes it with a soft ‘thanks’ and opens it. It tastes like cardboard, he can make better ones.
But you smile at him.
Your smile reminds him of the sun back home. It’s unbearably bright, he wants to turn his eyes away, but it’s also so unbearably stunning. And your voice, it’s akin to the nectar of blooming flowers in the spring when they travel through the air in all their sweetness. “Eat up, you need to regain your strength.”
If you refuse to be his enemy…then what is he supposed to do?
Look, darling don't give up
When the water's rough
Where you gonna go?
My heart is your home
You are persistent, if nothing else. In a corner somewhere, in a low whisper that no one other than you or him would have heard, he’d apologized. You accepted his apology. He thought that would have been the end of it. You’d return to the state of strangers, as you had been before the winter vacation. But you’re like honey, sticking to his fingers and leaving a saccharine residue he just can’t wash off. You’re in the cafeteria and you choose to sit next to him, in the hallways where you greet him a cheery ‘good morning’ and ‘good afternoon’, in the parties in Scarabia that Kalim invites you to.
You pull Jamil away to a hidden balcony to escape the noise. You laugh and chatter away even when he doesn’t reply.
You hold his hand.
He lets you.
He doesn’t know why, but he lets you do whatever you want. He never stops you, even though he knows he should.
You show up to basketball practice and every single game. He tries, he really does, to convince himself that you’re there for Ace. You guys are best friends, right? So of course you’d be there to support him. Hell, you could even be there for Floyd, with how close you seem to be with the merman.
(Jamil is a liar, after all.)
He tells himself you’re not there for him.
Even when you run up to him after a successful play, passing him a cold bottle of water and a fluffy towel for his sweat, he swears you’re not there to support him. Why would you? He’s the guy that threw you all the way to the other side of his dormitory.
(You only give Ace an eye roll when he brags about the win, and Floyd, a high five.)
(The best liars fool themselves.)
Nothing is as cold
As running on your own
So river don't you rush
Maybe you should fall
You have…what was the expression again?
Jamil watches on with Kalim from the corner of the court.
Two left feet, that’s it. Your dancing is, quite frankly, hilarious to watch. A mess of uncoordinated limbs flailing about, but it’s certainly better than Grim’s or Deuce’s. Kalim interrupts with a well-meaning comment (rude, but it’s true), and somehow, Jamil’s volunteered against his will to teach the clumsy first-years how to dance.
Ace knows enough of the basics, Deuce is remarkably stiff, Grim is a hopeless case.
But you can learn.
You want to pass the auditions too? Vil’s rather stringent with his requirements, though Rook is certainly not. But if you want to have even a shot at this, maybe Jamil can teach you more thoroughly, one on one.
Sevens, even he doesn’t know what he’s saying anymore.
You agree.
(Why did you agree?)
That's what rivers do
'Cause when you're in love
You don't mind a different view
Things are looking up
One hand on your waist, the other gently fixing your leg in place by your upper thigh.
(He wonders if you can hear his heart beating when his chest is to your back.)
“You should be more relaxed. The song isn’t aggressive, so you shouldn’t be so stiff.” Jamil speaks lowly into your ear, and he feels you shudder but never pull away. Instead, you nod and try to follow his instructions the best you can. Your body melts into the posture he’s veering you towards, molded by his palms. You’re warm, and the way you’re nervously looking back over your shoulder to gauge his reaction makes him think of the stray cats that occasionally circled him for food.
“Sorry, I just, don’t really dance,” you admit in embarrassment.
“Then why do you want to audition for the SDC?”
“Hm? Because my friends are auditioning. They think that if enough of us are in the team, they’ll be able to replace Epel. He doesn’t seem very willing to compete, after all.”
And there you are again.
Saving another stranger, as if kindness itself is melded into your bones. Jamil finds that he was wrong; it’s not just your smile that’s evocative of sunlight, it’s you. Your eyes meet his with a warmth that doesn’t burn, yet touching your skin makes him feel like he’d just come in contact with red-hot lava.
If you’re this kind to everyone, was he just another charity case to you?
Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)
Don't run (river, river)
Don't run (run, run)
Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)
Jamil pushes you away like it’s routine.
Everytime you think you’ve managed to dig deeper, you’re met with another blockade, each stronger than the last. He’s confusing, because everytime you think he’s letting you get closer (every time, you’re given hope that your feelings have come through), you’re disappointed again and again and again. You manage to graze the edge of his fingers before he flinches away like your touch burns him like hot metal.
And you keep trying.
What else are you supposed to do?
You continue your efforts and hope and pray that one day, he’ll see you.
But for now, you watch out for his lines and redraw them without his knowledge. You do what you can to be his friend, because even though every bone in your body is begging for his love, you know it’s impossible when he won’t even let you be his confidant. You sit next to him and stay, even when he tries to scoot further away from you. Is it healthy? Probably not. You know better than to do what you’re doing. But you don’t stop.
(Jamil is like a drug injected straight into your veins.)
Don't run (river, river) from our love (run, run)
Don't run from me river
Don't run from me river, river
No don't run from me river
He thought that distancing himself from you would be the right thing to do. He doesn’t know if it’s right, but what he does know is that it’s impossible. You’re a thought always running through his mind; a dream flowing through his reality.
When did it start that, even when he knows you’re not near, he still searches for you?
Jamil almost feels relief when he arrives at Pomefiore and realizes that you didn’t make the cut. Almost. He’s not relieved though, it’s overshadowed by a feeling of restlessness he doesn’t understand.
Anything concerning you, Jamil’s never quite understood.
Then you arrive anyway. When he’s managed to calm his heart down, you rev it up again like an engine. Vil announces you to be the team manager, and you agree quickly to let the team stay at Ramshackle at the notion of the prize money.
(You certainly weren’t looking at Jamil when you agreed.)
How is he supposed to avoid you now?
He moves in with the rest of the group, when you insist that you’re one bedroom short and thus, regretfully, Jamil would have to stay with you for the duration of his stay. He’s a liar, of course he knows you’re lying. He can see your gleeful smile you’re desperately trying to hide, in the small giggles that leave your lips when you think no one’s paying attention to you. He can decline, of course, and just room with Kalim instead where he can make sure that the heir survives the night without too much distance.
Instead, he agrees, only asking for Kalim to room nearby.
Don't run from me river, river
No don't run from me river
Don't run from me river, river
No don't run from me river
Your very smart and well thought-out plan worked.
Hm, maybe a little too well.
Jamil didn’t say anything when you basically forced him into sharing a room with you. Now he’s in the bathroom, and you’re shaking in your pajamas (from fear? Excitement? Withdrawal symptoms?), tucked into your cheap cotton sheets you’d bought at Sam’s for a couple thaumarks. It is unfortunate, but true, when you say that these are the nicest sheets you have. Jamil exits the bathroom fully clothed (sadly), hair wrapped in a towel and a hair dryer in hand. “Let me help you.” There is no way you were letting an opportunity like this slip through your fingers.
Surprisingly, he complies.
He’s sitting on your bed while you’re kneeling on the mattress behind him, plugging the device on and getting to work. God, it’s divine, he’s divine—his hair smells fruity and floral, and it moves through your fingers like he’s in a shampoo commercial.
(Don’t be a freak. Don’t sniff his hair.)
It takes a long time for it to dry, but when it does, it’s smooth and shiny and absolutely gorgeous. He tries to get up and says he can put his hair oil on by himself, and you take out the pushiest, most blunt sides of you in order to convince him to let you do it too.
Safe to say, sleep escapes you when you’re next to a five-foot-seven beauty in an oversized hoodie and pajama pants.
Maybe you should fall
That's what rivers do
'Cause when you're in love
You don't mind a different view
Jamil has come to the conclusion that he can’t avoid you.
Perhaps it was a realization that should have come long ago. But as the days pass by and he’s in your dormitory, it only further cements in him the feelings he’d been running from. Seeing you everyday feels right, spending every waking moment with you is more than just comfortable. It’s freeing in a way, like he’d just arrived to the countryside from the smoke of the city and he’s taking his first whiff of fresh air.
Practice is enjoyable.
He dances and he sings, and he can feel your eyes on him, roaming up and down but never to anyone else. For the first time in his life, someone’s chosen him, someone’s looking at him with every bit of their attention and focus. Not Kalim, not anyone else. Him. Jamil might be addicted to the feeling of you so openly lusting after him, almost begging for his attention.
(He can’t recognize the other emotions, but physical attraction is easy to read.)
You desire him. Really?
When he looks back at you, catching you in the middle of your act, he enjoys seeing your flustered face and avoidant gaze all the more. Vil calls for a break, so he stretches before taking the sports drink you’re offering.
(It reminds him of when you’d visit him during his basketball games.)
Jamil lightens the mood by deciding to make small talk with you instead of calling you out on your behavior. He takes a sip and laughs with you when Ace and Grim get in a scuffle in the middle of the dance floor, Vil breaking them up with a well-thrown bottle of apple juice. He watches you laugh at Ace clutching a forming bump on his forehead. It sounds like something he can’t quite place, but what he does know is that he’s dreamt of it before—
He’s…dreamt of you.
Multiple times.
The realization hits him harder than the bottle that Vil had thrown at Ace.
Things are looking up
Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)
Don't run (river, river)
Don't run (run, run)
Oh river (river, river) don't run (run, run)
Don't run (river, river) from our love (run, run)
Practice was useless.
You watch the reaction of the crowd in response to Neige and his team’s rehearsal. It was a fine performance (if it had been done in a kindergarten recital). Yet you see Vil seething and Rook sighing like the both of them had already seen defeat before it even arrived. You feel annoyance, frustration, injustice (why should the cutesy dance win when it was poorly put together, nothing but a mockup of an actually talented number?). None of that helps.
Vil overblots.
It’s familiar, though it probably shouldn’t be. The fight saps all the energy you had in your body, and you rush to your friends before the dust even settles, thankfully, no one has a serious injury. They still perform despite everything that had just happened, on the stage that your friend Tsunotarou had rebuilt with just a flick of his wrist. Predictably, they lose.
Well, who said the majority of people had good taste?
(You find Jamil packing in your room right afterwards. You convince him to stay, just a little longer. You wonder what you would need to do to convince him to stay forever.)
Oh river (river, river) (don't run from me river)
Don't run (run, run) (don't run from me river, river)
Don't run (river, river) (no don't run from me river)
Don't run (run, run) (don't run from me river, river)
Jamil thinks he finally understands.
Not you, exactly, rather, the combination of emotions he always finds whenever he looks into your eyes. It was love, a deep adoration that seeped into your soul and made you vulnerable to everything he did. It makes him rethink; was it his unique magic all that time ago, or was it just you fully willing to submit to his whims? No, when did this even start? You’ll likely never give him an answer to that question, but he’s smart enough to figure it out on his own. Retrace the steps, right? All the way back to the first time he met you.
(It’s not quite love yet. But something is there, and he doesn’t know why.)
It’s incorrect for him to assume that just because he found out what your feelings for him were, he’d automatically unravel who you are as a person. It only serves to deepen the enigma; what had he done for you to notice him so early on?
(He crosses out the possibility it might be love at first sight. How boring.)
You must be some tactical genius, and every action leading to this moment must’ve all been a trap. It was as if every step he’d taken since the day you met had only led him spiraling down, deeper and deeper into you. You’re a master at this game he’d noticed too late, you’d already gotten him stuck in your well-woven web of deceit.
How unexpected.
And yet, thrilling.
As Jamil lays his head on your lap, drifting off to a peaceful sleep under the shade of the apple tree, he takes in the feeling of you gently massaging his scalp and thinks of only one thing.
He’d lost to your machinations.
(If you want it so badly, Jamil will give you whatever is left of him that is his. He will trust you.)
Oh river (river, river) (don't run from me river)
Don't run (run, run) (don't run from me river, river)
Don't run (river, river) (no don't run from me river)
From our love (run, run) (don't run from me river, river)
No
His eyelashes are remarkably long. You gently trail a fingertip over the edge of its fanned-out shape, taking note of the shadow it leaves on his cheekbones.
He doesn’t wake up when you kiss his cheek.
Jamil is a mystery you want to keep trying to read every single moment of everyday. He’s a person you want to keep next to you, even if you’ve already gotten to the bottom of all his plans and ideals. You were attracted to him because Jamil is a shattered mirror, all its pieces still reflecting you.
He was barely existing too.
You saw in him what you know is present within yourself; a creature of self-doubt and hatred, wanting to know its place in this world, needing to know its purpose for existence. But unlike you, Jamil took steps to find a way out of his own personal hell, while back in your own world, you were only ever stuck in the same place. He’s everything you never thought you needed, but did.
Now, he’s breathing.
You wonder if he feels safe with you.
You wonder if he feels the same way that you do. Does he look at you and feel alive? Just like how Jamil was the beginning of your living, are you his?
You don’t need to know the answer.
(You couldn’t fix him, and he couldn’t fix you. Isn’t it great, then, that your broken pieces slot right into each other?)
Intro: He was going to break up with you on your first anniversary. He was going to break up with you before he went to internships. He was going to break up with you after he graduated.
Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, does jade count as a warning, reader is not yuu, established long term relationship, depression jokes, not proofread
A/N: Sorry, the brainrot got to me. College apparently cannot stop me from thinking about my least favorite character ever. Also, my favorite trope is 'i think they hate me' and 'i want them so bad i'm about to kill someone'.
Masterlist
There's a thick notebook in one of the boxes. Curiosity killed the eel mer, sure, but Jade is attracted to its plain leather cover. On the corner is your name, etched in an elegant cursive he's sure isn't yours.
After four years of romantic partnership, of course he knows your handwriting.
He gingerly fishes it out of its pile—your pile of clutter to get rid of before moving into your new shared home—and decides that of course it is fully within his right to open your journal. Diary, perhaps?
He can't help the grin pulling up the corners of his lips.
Oh dear, you've gotten so lax with such things, darling. Are you banking on his love for you to stop him from borrowing your private thoughts? Such confidence. Misplaced. Such a shame.
The first page has his name.
It takes him aback, but he delightfully relishes in the thought, the possibility, that all your feelings for him over several years would be gathered and spilled into its yellowed pages. Was there a stage of hatred? Rivalry? Were you crushing on him like a little schoolgirl? Such cute (excellent) memories (blackmail) from your youth (material)~ He flips to the second page and reads with unparalleled attentiveness he usually reserves for documents on his favorite projects.
September 1st, 20x1
Sunny
: |
It's orientation, and I'm following my ma's words about keeping a diary of sorts to keep track of interesting things. I wore the cultist uniform of NRC (fugly ass robes) and stood in line to get sorted to my dorm by the mirror. I got into Octavinelle. I don't know if it's the dorm I would have chosen for myself to be honest, but sure. I can't argue with the magical artifact.
What I would like to argue about is the vice housewarden.
His brows furrow slightly in intrigue. Did he do something wrong? He remembered being nothing but a kind, angelic upperclassman to your batch of freshmen.
He's so fucking pretty.
Jade chuckles.
He looks like he's about to eat me whole and fuck, I don't mind if he does!!! He's so tall, and so so attractive, and sevens I thought I came to NRC to study but I think I'm here to fulfill my destiny of becoming his <3
He launches into full-blown laughter. He takes his phone out from his pocket to snap multiple pictures, saving them in a locked folder labeled rather inconspicuously in his gallery.
There's a series of entries after that. Nothing too interesting (he's scanned every single page), just you detailing every second of your (at this point, nonexistent) love life. You write about how many times you'd seen him in a day, and how 'cute' he looks in his school uniform, and how 'adorable' he is when he's hanging onto his broom for dear life in PE. He ignores the fact that you shouldn't have seen him in PE classes because his schedule didn't match yours at that time. Then, there's one that you'd written right before realizing you'd fallen into his love trap~
October 3rd, 20x1
Cloudy
:<
I think I got tricked into being someone's s/o.
I thought he's been inviting me to random outings and stuff, alone, together, as like, a threat maybe. Today I found out Floyd (and therefore Azul, and definitely also him) think of me as Jade's significant other. Which is so weird.
I'm so confused???
There's a little chibi drawing on the corner of your face with a blank expression.
I thought we were friends and then his brother tells me that the guy I like doesn't think of me as a friend. Okay??????
JADE LEECH IS TREATING ME LIKE HIS PARTNER AND I DON'T KNOW WHEN IT HAPPENED.
(but i like it :D)
Well, you've always been a bit slow, haven't you, darling? You never even noticed when Jade began to take an interest in you, slowly steering you towards his own hobbies, even his club activities. After all, he studied your interests, so isn't it only fair? He likes being able to converse with you. He likes the sound of your voice. He likes the movement of your lips. Is it so bad, then, that he did a few perfectly legal things to somehow shoe you in right by his side?
In the diary, you detail every feeling in every date. You like picnics. You hated the hike up that mountain with poisonous snakes. You liked the parfait he made for you. You disliked the slightly poisonous mushroom he sauteed and put into your chicken alfredo. Shame.
July 23rd, 20x2
Rainy
:(
It takes its first turn about a week before the first anniversary of the day you met him (you don't have a 'real' anniversary since you don't even know when you started dating him).
I think he's going to break up with me soon.
His breath hitches in his throat. He's not sure how to feel upon reading that sentence, but he doesn't like it.
(Why were you so sure, darling?)
He's going to be in third year by the time the school year comes around again. He'll be busy with the lounge and studying and vice housewarden stuff. Maybe he won't have time for me anymore.
But that's okay.
I realized something. The twins are not the type of people for long term relationships. After knowing more about Jade, I've learned he's not too different from Floyd concerning several aspects.
1.) He only likes interesting things.
Jade likes weird, and fun, and spontaneous. I think he liked me then because I was new and so strange. After all, I didn't know that the guy I loved at first sight was such a feared figure, for good reason too. There was nobody in school who would stick around him so much like I do.
2.) He gets bored just as easily.
Jade is the mirror image of Floyd here. Floyd is more moody, but Jade is good at pretending. He likes to play around. Until he doesn't. I know I won't see it coming, but one day, I will be predictable. And he'll get bored. I will no longer be interesting.
He leans back slightly on his chair. He needs to take a few deep breaths before he can even continue to read your writing.
Has he always struck you that way?
If he doesn't want to play with me anymore, what am I supposed to do?
I need to prepare myself.
Someday, he'll leave me, and I need to be stronger then than I am now. Right now, I'll break if he abandons me. Surely if I desensitize myself to the scenario, I can mitigate the damage.
You talk of your own heart like a building in the middle of the Ring of Fire, and Jade's the biggest earthquake that's about to arrive since millennia.
It's not often he finds himself questioning his own morality. Gray is his preference, but then, why does he see this version of himself in your eyes in all black? Has he been anything but kind to you? He's tried, really. If it wasn't enough, he should've seen it in your eyes. He should have known.
The following pages go back to their previous light-hearted tone, slowly leaving the saccharine sweet honeymoon phase and dipping into comfortable and warm. You don't mention that entry again, or even that line of thought. He likes that. Jade would prefer you refusing to humor such blatant nonsense than actually spend time worrying your pretty little head about it. It's just a bit worrying. Like a volcano with lava filling up, is it not dangerous to block the outflow?
Why have you never discussed your thoughts with him?
August 3rd, 20x3
Sunny
:<
He has to consider that it might be seasonal depression if the entries keep getting darker around the same time. Like a switch has been flipped, the words turn into blades again, cutting into his skin as though they could never draw blood.
I think he's really going to break up with me soon.
Oh sevens.
He has internships, which means he won't even be at school most of the time. It's upsetting because I think he'll find so many people out there. And they'll be much more interesting than me.
And then what?
I don't know where he's interning, it's probably because he doesn't want me to be a part of his life any longer.
How did he never know how prone you were to overthinking?
He hasn't gotten bored of me yet, but that's not to say it won't happen when he gets a taste of the real world and realizes how limited he is by this place. By me. Am I holding him back? I never say anything to him about these kinds of feelings because it might burden him. Which is a really funny sentence to write considering this is Jade Leech I'm talking about. It's not like he cares about other people's opinions enough for it to be a burden to him.
Why then, Jade wonders, would you ever consider yourself as 'other people'?
I hope he lets me down gently, at least.
Why would he ever let you down at all?
It's a shame to say but I think I love him.
And again, like nothing ever happened at all, the following recorded dates speak nothing of your plight. Instead, you jot down your visits to Jade in his chosen workplace, since obviously, he'd given you the details despite your previous doubts. The records of your life when not with him are few and far between, as you usually opted to write about Jade when together with him. There's an entry about the time you went to the amusement park with him, and threw up all over his jacket. There's one about the cake you failed horribly at baking during his birthday.
There's an entry about the first time you explored intimacy with him.
So it gives him severe whiplash when the entry after that is back to the same 'break up' tone as before, right around the same time as the other two.
(He should call a therapist for you.)
August 1st, 20x4
Sunny
>:(
He will definitely break up with me soon!
Why is this one so enthusiastic about it, though?
Maybe it's been in his plans all along. Only until graduation! This time, he'll definitely, definitely break up with me. Yes! I mean, I shouldn't be happy about it, but my two predictions beforehand were incorrect, and it makes me very nervous.
So I have a plan.
On his graduation, I'm going to give him a bouquet of flowers and a terrarium that I personally made.
Yes he remembers that. He still has the terrarium in his collection room.
And then, I'm going to confess my love for him.
Yes he remembers that too. You said 'I love you', and though slightly taken aback, he returned your sentiments.
And it would be the perfect gateway for him to talk about breaking up with me.
Huh. That's definitely not what he thought of it then. Is that why you were so surprised when he said 'I love you too'?
And it would probably hurt, but I think I can get away with not crying in front of him.
I really love him.
But I think it would be for the best that he leaves now, when I can still let him go with grace. Someday, I'll be in love with him, maybe to the point that I'd break down at his feet and beg for him to pick up the pieces. But I don't want him to see me like that.
He doesn't want to see that either.
(But rest assured, should it happen, he will pick up every piece of you and glue it back together with his love. Rather cheesy, though.)
Wish me luck!!!
Jade's lips curl up into a lazy grin, flipping to the last page on the notebook. There's not much, but he reads through it with a soft chuckle and writes in the corner with a blue pen. "Jade! The moving company will be here soon," you pop your head through the doorway, only glancing at him briefly before walking away, "I'm almost done with the kitchen."
He places your diary into his box of 'to keep', sealing the cardboard shut with some tape.
August 2, 20x4
Cloudy
:o
He said he loves me too.
I could be wrong, but I think Jade's never going to break up with me.
June 16, 20x5
Sunny
:)
Let's get married soon, darling. I'm looking forward to the rest of our life together.
a timeline of your relationship through the school year :P
you can read the (optional) prologue, “anti acceptance”, here!
tags/warnings: jade leech x reader (romantic), gender-neutral insert, prefect!reader, swearing, sfw but written with college age (18-22) in mind, wish upon a star event (very mild spoilers), reader has hair/bedhead, mutual teasing, pure fluff with no serious conflict or stakes
a/n: ik i promised one three-year fic ending in a proposal (requested) but that would be WAY too long for something without a real plot structure ;-; i’ll at least fulfill this other request with this fic, but i’ll have to do the proposal in yet another installation lol
word count: 9.1k (six fics stacked on top of each other in a giant trench coat)
DO NOT FEED ANY PART OF THIS TO AI. thanks!
dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/cafekitsune!
You didn’t think you’d get this far.
Two and a half months ago, right before summer break, you’d confessed to Jade Leech. Not with the intention of pursuing him, dating him, or even flattering him; no, you’d confessed so that he would reject you. Because that’s the only way you’d be able to quash your crush on the worst possible person you could have a crush on.
Well, to prove you right in just the wrong way, Jade had accepted your confession. Or if you wanted to be technical about it, he’d rejected your request to be rejected.
And then he charmed you into going on a date. And at the end of that date, he charmed you into going on another date. And so on and so forth, until you could confidently say that you and Jade were ‘dat-ing’.
So, correction: you didn’t think you’d get this far, because you’d been actively trying to not go in this direction.
You're also not going to flatter yourself and believe that Jade actually likes you, either. Like his brother, he’s more motivated by amusement and fascination than by ‘love’. And though that’s what you'd expected of him from the start, it’s not any less… difficult.
Translation: you are whipped for this stupid eel. And said stupid eel is blatantly stringing you along. Through the mud. For fun.
Welcome to hell.
Draped across your dorm couch like a swooned Victorian lady, Ace sighs, loud and dramatic. “Maaan, this year’s entrance ceremony was so boring.”
“That’s a good thing, Ace,” you deadpan from the floor. “Riddle would’ve had everyone’s heads if last year repeated itself.”
“Ehh, probably. But the Headmage could’ve at least made his speeches shorter, couldn’t he? It’s not like anyone's actually paying attention.”
Deuce throws a pillow at his head. “Just because you weren’t paying attention doesn’t mean nobody was!”
“Yeah, Ace!” Grim snickers.
You scoff lightheartedly. “You weren’t listening either, Grim. You literally slept through the entire thing.”
The accused whips his head around at you, betrayed. “W-Well!” he scrambles.
At the flash in Grim’s eyes, you realise: Oh no. You should not have drawn attention to yourself. Not when you’re equally culpable.
And here it comes: “At least I wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at Jade Leech the whole time!”
“Yeah,” the redhead snickers as your face heats up, “I guess you can’t get any worse than that!”
Deuce throws a second pillow at Ace—“Be nice!”—but he doesn’t disagree.
Nor do you have any dignity left to deny it, yourself.
“Hey, look on the bright side: he’ll probably break up with you soon,” Ace assures. “He’s gonna be too busy being a vice-housewarden and thinking about his internship!”
“Oh right,” Deuce and Grim collectively realise with their single shared brain cell, while your heart drops a couple storeys lower than you'd like.
Ace’s argument is a good one—a great one, even—but you've already thought of it before, many times, in fact. And it’s good news! You should feel relieved that you’ll finally be free from Jade’s emotional clutches, especially considering how your goal in the first place was just that.
The issue: you're in too deep. When you’d first gotten into this mess, you were only a few rungs up on the ‘whippedness’ ladder. You were ready to jump off of your own accord and just sprain an ankle or two, metaphorically.
Now, you're too high on the ladder, about to be shoved off before you're ready, and you’re gonna break both your legs and maybe your back. And it almost feels like it's not a metaphor anymore.
Instead of voicing any of your inner turmoil, you argue weakly, “We're not even together. There’s nothing to break up.”
The trio stares at you, in varying degrees of confusion, shock, and exasperation. Not even a peep.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” you add.
“Aren't you dating?” Deuce asks, absolutely dumbfounded.
“Sure, but it’s just dates. I could go on a date with Ace, and it wouldn't make him my boyfriend.” You ignore the latter’s disgusted grimace.
“So it’s a good thing then!” Grim responds a bit too abrasively. “Jade can’t actually dump you, so he’ll just ignore you forever!”
Your heart dips even further.
“Ghost,” Ace adds very helpfully. “He’ll ghost you.”
Unable to sink into the floorboards at will, you settle for tugging your ceremonial hood over your face. “Yeah,” your voice breaks. “Yeah. Great. Thanks, guys.”
The very next day, Jade himself shows up to your door before class.
You know that trope in those TV shows, when a cop shows up to someone’s wife’s door, takes off his hat, and solemnly implies in ten words or less that she’s now a widow? Well, you sure feel like the wife here.
But as you scan his expression for any hint of impending emotional doom, Jade’s polite smile betrays nothing.
“Good morning, Prefect,” he greets.
“Morning, Jade,” you parrot without any heart.
His gaze lingers on your face for an unsettling amount of time, probably to watch the light leave your eyes as he dropkicks your heart into the sun.
This is it. He’s about to tell you he never wants to see you again.
You square your shoulders and steel yourself for his next words…
“Are you ready to go?”
…which were not what you were expecting.
You nearly collapse in relief. “Oh, uh, yeah,” you exhale, bracing your spine up against the doorframe. “Grim?” you turn and call, “it’s time to go!”
A blur of grey shoots past your legs and out the door upon noticing your company. “Stay safe, Henchhuman! I’m outta here!”
The eel simply laughs at your furry ward’s blatant fear of him.
Before this, Jade has never come straight to your door to pick you up, so Grim absolutely thinks he’s about to kidnap you or something. Maybe you should be concerned that your so-called ‘boss’ is so quick to abandon you, but as you spot him in the distance periodically glancing back, you’ll choose to be grateful for the privacy instead.
As if magnetic, your fingers interlock with Jade’s, and oh Seven—
Why does this feel so right?
His hands not clammy or uncomfortably warm, his skin smooth like silk satin but still seemingly unbreakable… If you really focus, you can feel the dim pulse in his fingertips humming into the back of your hand.
Wouldn’t it be nice to do this every day?
You blow up the tracks of that train of thought and drive it full-steam off a cliff.
It’s not until you arrive at your classroom that you finally begin to slip your hand from Jade’s grasp.
But when you step past the threshold, you fail to suppress a squeak as you’re abruptly tugged back by the same damn hand (which apparently did not fully slip out of Jade’s), straight into his chest.
“Just a moment,” the bastard croons into your ear. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
Your legs buckle, but Jade holds you firmly against him. “No?” you sputter.
He simply hums. And then he tips your chin and fucking kisses the top of your head.
“Have a good class, Prefect.”
You distantly hear Deuce, and Ace screaming (“PREFECT, NO!!!” and “WHAT THE FUCK?!!” respectively) down the hall from where they witnessed it.
Jade finally lets you go, and you do, in fact, collapse. Ace and Deuce scream even harder, and oh hey, Grim’s here too. “Stay with me, Henchhuman! I’ll reverse the curse, don’t worry!”
As your friends all panic over the curse that Jade must’ve cast on you, the latter crouches down to your level, amused as ever. “Are you alright, Prefect?”
“Yup,” you croak, too dazed to notice the hand (the same. fucking. one.) that he’s offering you. “Bye, have a good class~”
“You’re positive you don’t need me to bring you to the infirmary?”
“Uh huh. See ya…”
On your knees, as the world spins around you, you make a new realisation:
Jade’s not dropping you cold turkey.
He’s gonna build you up, and drop you only when it’s most interesting for him. Which, by definition, means when it’s most inconvenient for you.
You’re so not ready for this.
For three months, through homework and prefect duties, through midterms and finals, you walk the line between indulging your yearning for Jade and holding him at arm’s length. It is exhausting.
Every morning, Jade walks you to class. Every afternoon, he walks you back to your dorm. You still go on little dates every few weekends. And every time you two part, he kisses the top of your head. Which is also fairly mortifying when you’re surrounded by your schoolmates, but that’s beside the point.
The pesky eel has whittled your certainty down to a sliver, so much so that you eventually ask your friends, “Do you think Jade… actually likes me back?”
Their response: a homogeneous blend of grimaces, “Nope”s, and “Don’t go there”s.
“Cool, cool, that’s what I thought too.”
You need to get yourself out of this predicament before your emotional fate is actually officially, irreversibly, terminally out of your hands. That means breaking off this… thing with Jade before winter break.
So, drunk on desperation and sleep deprivation, you devise a gameplan:
Step 1: Hold yourself accountable. Tell your friends that you’re breaking things off with Jade and do not let them down.
Step 2: Meet with Jade. Schedule a time and place.
Step 3: Finish the job. Say: “This has been fun, but I’m breaking off whatever this is between us. Stay away from me until the end of time, please and thank you!”
Emotional freedom in three simple steps. It’s a foolproof plan! (And if it feels like you’ve been through this song and dance before, no, you have not.)
At 2 am the day before winter break, you start with Step 1. Opening your now-second-year group chat, you cursorily text a declaration:
You: i’m gonna break things off with jade today. wish me luck guys
then immediately turn your phone on silent before anyone can respond—if anyone’s even awake (Someone probably is. Your money’s on Ace)—and conk out instantly.
You jolt awake to the sound of knocking on your bedroom door.
“Hello?!” you bark. It’s light outside, and Grim still lies beside you, fast asleep.
“Good morning, Prefect,” the most enchanting voice seeps through the seams of your door. “You must've overslept your alarm. Are you decent? May I come in?”
“Uh, yeah!” you bark out reflexively, scrambling out of bed. “Wait, no—wait—hold on! I'm in my pyjamas!”
The door cracks open, and in pops the eel plaguing your mind 24/7.
You both stand there like two cowboys in a standoff. Jade looks you up and down with his usual smile. You glare at him.
“Jade. Out,” you command, closing the gap in an attempt to shoo him out. He doesn't budge, even when you start shoving against him.
“Fufufu, so this is what you look like when you wake up,” he comments, immovable. “How cute.”
“Out.”
“Alright,” he chuckles, taking a step back. But then he places a hand on your head, smoothing your hair down. “You have bedhead, Prefect.”
You almost lean into his touch. You nearly forget that you have a plan to follow. You just barely remember that you're breaking things off with Jade today.
Do not let him change your mind.
Channelling your inner black belt, you seize the wrist of the hand petting your head. “Are you going to Kalim’s party tonight?”
Eyes wide in surprise, Jade slowly retracts his hand. “Y-Yes,” he stutters out. “The Lounge will be closed today, so I expect I will be.”
“Good. I have something I need to talk to you about.”
He tenses. “…Should I be concerned?”
“No,” you sigh. “It’s nothing to you.”
“I see.”
“I’m gonna make you late, so you don’t need to walk me to class today,” you continue when Jade makes no move to leave your room. “And you don’t need to worry about walking me back, either.”
“…Are you alright?” he enquires after a moment.
You almost laugh. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll see you later, okay?”
To your chagrin, Jade stares right into your eyes, probably in search of answers you refuse to verbalise. To shake off the intensity, you dart your eyes in every direction but him: eye contact with Jade is a terrible idea no matter which way you look at it, especially now.
“Have a good day,” you add awkwardly, crossing your fingers that he’ll actually leave soon.
After far too long, he backs away. “You too, Prefect. I’ll see you later, then.”
Step 2, done.
As you watch Jade walk alone down the path to the main school building, you’re hit with the nagging feeling that you’re missing something.
Did you forget to do your homework? No, you weren’t assigned anything for the last day of classes.
The dishes, maybe? Did you neglect to do those last night? That’s not it.
Is it someone’s birthday? No, that’s not it, either.
After 20 minutes of hard thinking, you realise: it’s the kiss. Jade didn’t kiss you goodbye this time, and it feels horrible.
You’re experiencing fucking Jade Leech kiss withdrawal.
You scream into your pillow.
You show up to Kalim’s party in the evening, fully ready to land the final blow.
The only issue: Jade isn’t here.
You haven’t seen him, none of your friends have seen him, none of the other students you’ve asked have seen him. He hasn’t texted you, either.
Jade fucking stood you up and it’s totally psyching you out.
You text him
hey
where are you
only to get left on read. He knows.
You call him, even though you don’t expect him to answer. And sure enough, the phone rings once, twice, three times…
He actually picks up. To your utter surprise.
“Where are you?” you hiss.
For a silent moment, you think that he might just refuse to humour you, might just hang up now. But the eel sure has a thing for subverting your expectations. “…I’d rather not show up for something so… unpleasant.”
“What are you talking about? Who said anything about ‘unpleasant’?”
“Perhaps you should be more selective in what you tell Grim,” the bane of your existence answers, “seeing as his favour can be bought with just a few cans of premium tuna.”
“Ugh, I'm gonna strangle him. Why do you have to be so difficult? Can’t you spare me just this once?”
“I…” He pauses. “That… wouldn’t be in my best interest.”
“Jade, you’re actually starting to piss me off. I’m not gonna let you keep stringing me along for your own fucking amusement,” you snap, “and you refusing to show up isn’t gonna change my mind.”
“…Is that what you think I’m doing?” he asks softly. “‘Stringing you along’? And here I was, thinking that we were both enjoying ourselves. Was I mistaken?”
You scoff. “Yes—no—UGH,” you groan, then try again. “I’m just gonna come out and say it: you know I like you; I know you don’t actually feel the same. So I have no reason to keep playing along with you.”
For what feels like a minute, the line is quiet.
“Hello?”
“…I’m here,” he breathes. “I… You were right. I think we should discuss this in person. Have you left Scarabia already?”
“No,” you huff. “Grim’s still stuffing his face, so I’m waiting in the hall.”
“Good. I’ll be there in a second.”
“Are you here?”
“Perhaps,” he hums, and you hear the music and chatter of the party grow louder from his end of the phone. “See you soon.”
Sure enough, Jade takes no more than a minute to find you.
You’re the first to speak. “So what is it that we needed to discuss in person—”
“You’re wrong.”
Caught off guard by his uncharacteristic brusqueness, you flinch. “Uh?”
“About how I don’t feel the same. You’re wrong,” he repeats. His usual polite mien is nowhere to be found, leaving only raw sincerity.
A nasty bout of hope seizes your heart and clogs your throat.
“If you’re truly set on parting ways, then I can’t stop you,” Jade continues, voice level, “but if the basis of your choice is my supposed lack of… fondness for you, please consider sparing us both the unnecessary misery.”
You scoff shakily. “Say it straight, Jade.”
“Very well. I return your affections, Prefect.”
Heart beating a thousand beats per minute, eyes wholly unfocussed, you find your consciousness peeling away from your body and brain. “…Okay, I’m gonna get going now~” a voice rings in your ears—your voice.
“Where are you going?”
“Dunno…”
Jade steps closer to you and places his hands on your shoulders, maybe in an effort to ground you. It doesn’t work. “Shall we continue this conversation later, then?”
You hum.
“Alright, I’ll give you some time,” he whispers, turning to leave. “Have a good night, Prefect.”
But before he can get far, your hand snags the sleeve of Jade’s blazer. “…You’re forgetting something.”
“Oya? And what would that be?”
No words come out, but to your chagrin, your other hand rises…
and points straight at the crown of your head.
What. Is. Wrong. With. You.
Luckily, with a shake of your head, you do manage to snap out of your stupor before he can honour your request.
Less luckily, not in time to stop him; only enough to feel his lips meet the exact spot where you’d pointed just a second prior.
The touch of his lips is like a shot of epinephrine, the way the warmth diffuses through your bloodstream, head to toe.
Or maybe it’s an injection of poison, killing you slowly but surely.
Well, if this is death, Great Seven, does it feel nice.
You’re dead.
You really died.
Or at least you’re about to. Because the Grim Reaper is currently in the act of busting down your bedroom door to get to you. (After that incident with Jade, you started locking your door at night, thank Seven.)
The paintings on the wall swing like pendula. The junk in your drawer rolls about like water in a hot pan. You even discover tuna cans that Grim (yours, not the Reaper) hid at some point, inching their way out from beneath furniture with each shake of the room.
But your bed is so comfortable right now…
“Shrimpyyyyy,” whines from behind the quaking door. “Open sesame!”
…Oh, it’s Floyd. Which might actually be worse than the Grim Reaper. But to Floyd’s credit, you would prefer seeing him over his brother right now.
“What do you want, Floyd?” you whine back. “Go away.”
The pounding only gets more aggressive. “Open up!”
“No. Let me sleep.”
“Okaa~ay! I’mma kick down your door!” Floyd threatens. “In 5, 4, 3…”
“FINE,” you groan, dragging yourself out of the warm embrace of your duvet. “I’m coming, I’m coming. Don’t wreck my house.”
You swing the door open, glaring at the eel on the other side. “What.”
“Fix Jade,” he blurts, pouting. “He’s broken.”
Unimpressed, you try to close the door, but Floyd shoves his way past you and into your room. “That’s just normal Jade,” you sigh.
“No, he’s being weird! He’s ripping up flowers and speaking in tongues!”
You yawn. “Sounds normal to me.”
Floyd grimaces. “Eehhhh… Is Shrimpy always this stubborn? No wonder Jade’s having such a hard time courtin’ ya.”
“Wha—He’s not—” you sputter, and Floyd takes advantage of your blue-screening to throw you onto his shoulder. “I’m not—!”
“Uh~huuhhh,” he dismisses, already in full stride. “Save it for Jade.”
Remember when you thought you’d prefer seeing Floyd over his twin? Well, you take that back. As much as Jade likes to make life difficult for you, at least he wouldn’t haul you—clad in only your pyjamas—across campus in broad daylight while it's snowing. Probably.
After a long, uncomfortable trek on Floyd’s shoulders—shoulders, plural, because he would just toss you onto the other shoulder when one side got tired—you finally make it to Octavinelle.
With little regard for your flailing body, your captor skips down the hall to his twin’s door and kicks it open at the tail end of Jade’s mutterings.
“Got a delivery for ya~”
“…me not,” Jade finishes quietly, attention fixed on the picked-bare flower stem between his fingers. “Ah, Floyd, you've brought the Prefect. What a pleasant surprise.”
Though his distaste is directed more at his brother than yourself, Jade’s sarcasm is obvious. His tone is curter than he uses with you, gaze sharper than what you’re used to, but Floyd is nonetheless unfazed. He throws you onto Jade’s bed.
Which already has Jade on it.
You are on top of Jade.
“Floyd—! You—!” you squawk, rolling off of the bed, off of him, hitting the floor with an impressive thud.
Over the edge of the mattress, olive and gold eyes scan over you in fleeting concern. “…Floyd.”
“You’re welcome!” Floyd spits back with equal irritation. “Someone needed to fix you before we go home!” And then he bursts into abrupt giggles, bounding out of the room with the door left just slightly ajar behind him.
The door is still open. You should follow him out. Just leave; Jade didn’t invite you here in the first place.
But you don’t.
You stay, sprawled out on your crush’s rug, surrounded by a dense dusting of snow-white petals. From the sheer amount of them, Jade must’ve plucked over forty giant daisies bare.
The sound of your heart pounding in your ears almost drowns out his murmur. “Do you need more time?”
You’ve heard Jade weave sarcasm into polite words. You’ve heard him excitedly info-dump about a passion of his. Just yesterday, you even heard him nervous and raw. But to this extent? Never.
You sit up. “…I need you to be transparent.” Your voice is shaking.
“You don’t actually like me, do you? Or maybe you find me interesting or fascinating or whatever. But you’re gonna get bored of me, aren’t you?
“If you know this won't go anywhere, then just tell me now,” you plead. “Please.”
Jade slips off the bed and kneels down to your eye-level—not that it matters when you don’t have the courage to meet his eyes.
Everything depends on his next words; you'll go all in if he says one thing, all out if he says the other. You might as well just bet your life on a coin toss.
He chuckles without humour nor coldness, “You truly have no faith in me, do you, Prefect? Since you insist on doubting my feelings, allow me to set the record straight now: I sincerely care for you, and I don’t expect that to change.”
You collapse back onto the floor with liquified muscles, all stress and heartache draining from your bones, gaze falling on the man-sized mushroom plush propped up on a stool in the corner of the room. Jade has dressed it up with a bow tie. You throw a hand over your eyes before you can be overwhelmed by the adorable sight.
“Cool, just making sure. Uh, I… don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Oya? And you had such a succinct plan to break up with me. Perhaps you should get into the habit of making contingency plans.”
You guffaw dryly. “I plan for the worst case scenario so if it doesn’t go according to plan, I can be pleasantly surprised.”
Your hand begins to fall asleep; you shift your arm back down to a comfortable position. The sight you’re met with—of Jade smiling back at you with such relief and fondness—ignites the answer in your throat. “I am.”
The two words come out more watery than you’d expected, and apparently more than Jade had expected too, because he asks, “Are you sure?”
“Mhm.”
“You’re crying,” he notes.
You wipe your eyes with your hand. “Oh.”
Pulling out a handkerchief, Jade gently blots away your tears. “May I safely assume that these aren’t tears of sadness?”
“Yeah,” you chuckle, closing your eyes as he pats over them, “sorry. I just… I’m super relieved? I'm not always such a big crybaby, I promise.”
“I know,” he reassures, stroking your hair. “Though you are a very pretty crier.”
“Jaaade,” you whine, tossing over in embarrassment.
“Oya? Why so shy?” He pokes your exposed cheek. “You act as if we haven’t been dating for the past five months.”
“We haven’t had a label for the past five months. I’ve been preparing for you to dump me,” you correct. “Not that we have a relationship to dump in the first place.”
Jade’s fingers brush down to your cheek. “Shall we fix that?”
“…You wanna be my boyfriend, Jade Leech?”
“Very much so,” he replies in full seriousness.
And so, your fate sealed, Jade gives zero resistance when you pull him down to your side. He wraps his arms around you, you press your cheek against his chest. The heart within beats faster than you’d expect.
You still have a question left unanswered, though.
“Jade?”
“Yes?”
“What’s with all the petals?”
He tenses, just barely, just for a millisecond before he melts back into you. “It’s… a fortune-telling practice.”
“Huh,” you twitter, amused. “I would’ve thought you’d only need one flower.”
“I would,” Jade agrees, “but curiously, each of the daisies I’ve come across so far has had an even number of petals, and I happen to be looking for a result different from what those ones suggest.”
You chuckle. “You gonna keep picking?”
He hums, nestling into you as if the floor with your company is the most comfortable spot in the world. “No need. I have my answer.”
It's impossible for a person to exist without ever having heard a love song, read a love story, watched a romcom, any or all of the above. Even so, none of the heart-wrenching melodies, flowery words, or dramatic confessions could ever have prepared you for the pure paradise you’ve been living for the past two months since making your relationship official.
(Wow! Who knew that life could be so happy when you’re able to love freely!)
Admittedly, Jade hasn’t treated you any differently from how he did before he’d officially become your boyfriend. He’s always been courteous, considerate, and only a touch concerningly sketchy.
The real difference? Your ability to actually enjoy it all.
When it comes to you, he somehow always knows, even when you don’t. The second before your stomach growls, he already has a snack at the ready. When you feel particularly touchstarved, he wraps you in his arms. When you trip on a crack in the pavement, he nonchalantly pulls you upright like a knight in shining armour.
And now, you don’t need to worry about declining Jade’s offers, or dodging his touches, or dissociating while in his presence lest you fall further for him. Now, you’re safe leaning in.
Your friends, on the other hand, are… worried, to say the least. It’s nothing new; they’ve been this way since before you even started dating Jade, but you thought they’d at least get used to it by now.
Apparently, you were wrong.
Last week, they tried to inconspicuously block you from spotting Jade in the halls. To no avail, of course: it's impossible for a barricade of guys lined up shoulder-to-shoulder to not arouse suspicion.
Yesterday, while you and Jade walked hand-in-hand through the courtyard, Sebek Red Rover’ed his way right through your joined hands. You hadn’t even seen him coming.
And today, as Jade walked the path to Ramshackle to meet you in the morning, Epel leapt out of a bush to football tackle him to the ground. Luckily, the blanket of snow cushioned their fall, but in an ideal world, you wouldn’t have a boyfriend-shaped imprint on your lawn at all.
Naturally, you pull said boyfriend inside to warm him up, and the feisty little perpetrator sprints off before you can question him, let alone scold him.
“How cruel,” Jade laments without any real chagrin, pouting and shivering in an exaggerated show of pitifulness. “With my fragile disposition, I’m afraid I have hypothermia.”
“You grew up in subzero waters, you melodramatic eel.” You tenderly brush the snow from his nose and lashes. “But I'm sorry I let it get this far. I’ll talk with them today.”
He preens under your touch like an overgrown cat. “If anything, I find it most reassuring that you have such loyal friends. As for myself, however,” he puts back on a dramatic pout, “my nose is still so terribly cold, it'll be frostbitten if I leave it be. Won't you please remedy that?”
His frigid cheeks nestled comfortably between your warm palms, Jade’s expectant gaze is impossible to ignore and equally impossible to misinterpret.
So you lean in, bringing your lips ever closer to the tip of his nose…
and cup your hand over it.
“Ah, how romantic,” the eel sighs dreamily. Like this was what he'd wanted all along. “I'm feeling much better already.”
“Happy to hear it.”
As if it were a campfire, everyone gathers around the gaming setup that Ortho brought over. Not you, though—you lurk in the corner—until the robot cinnamon roll himself shines the spotlight on you.
“Prefect! You’ve been standing there for twelve minutes, and you’re exhibiting physical signs of anxiety. Are you okay?”
At your silence, the other former first-years (now second-years) pause their game and turn to also look at you. “Ugh, how do I say this…”
You huff, shuffling closer to sit crosslegged on the floor before them. “Jade. You guys are bullying him.”
Seven pairs of eyes blink at you; you blink back.
When they give no verbal response, you press on. “I know you guys have your thoughts about him—and I get it, I do—but he’s also my boyfriend now. And you guys are my friends, and I care for you all, so… what’s going on?
“Has he done something to you recently? Am I not spending enough time with you guys? What… What do you need for this to work?”
The seven pairs of eyes blink at you again, then at each other, then at you again.
Sebek breaks the silence first. “Does he care about this as much as you do?”
“About what? The teasing?” you assume. “No, definitely not.”
“The relationship,” Ace corrects.
It stings, your friends’ lack of confidence in you and your judgement. But on the other hand, you know it comes from a place of care and concern.
Jack clears his throat. “You really care about him, Prefect. If he doesn’t actually feel the same way, that’s a problem.”
“He does,” you say desperately. “You’re just gonna have to trust me on that. He hasn't done anything sketchy since we started dating, and believe me, I’ve been looking.”
“It ain’t that we don’t trust ya, Prefect,” Epel responds. “It’s him we’re worryin’ about.”
You sigh. “I get that, but we’re together now. Could you guys play nice, just for my sake?”
The seven pairs share one more look.
“I’ll think about it. Especially if he brings tuna.”
“Alright…”
“Sure.”
“Fiiiine.”
“Of course!”
“If you insist.”
“But if anything does happen, we’ll be here.”
“That’s all I'm asking,” you smile. “Thanks, guys.”
Sure enough, one day passes without incident, then two, then three, and before you know it, Valentine’s Day rolls around. And boy, have you been preparing for this day.
You’re armed and ready with chocolate. So. Much. Chocolate.
Chocolates filled with caramel for your friends. 90% cocoa dark chocolate for other friends. Hollow white chocolate eggs coated in a thin layer of milk chocolate and with a surprise toy inside (the best kind), for other other friends. Slightly-botched-but-still-edible homemade chocolates for your distant acquaintances. Severely-botched-so-you-leaned-into-it-and-added-laxatives chocolates for your enemies.
And last but far from least, homemade mushroom-shaped chocolates for the boyfriend, in four different flavours.
Once you've personally delivered your greater haul to the doors of each of your friends, all that’s left is Octavinelle, home of your ultimate recipient. You find Azul and Floyd working in the Lounge—busy with the influx of customers expected during a Valentine’s Day promotional event on a weekend—and give them their gifts: a set of your finest, most potent laxative (jk. or am i) chocolates for Azul, an assorted pack of novelty chocolates from Sam’s for Floyd.
As for Jade, he'd somehow managed to convince his housewarden into letting him take the day off. The details aren’t worth fretting over: you’re simply grateful to have him to yourself today.
Funny enough, as you walk down the hall toward Jade’s room, it feels as if someone’s watching you. But each time you turn, nothing’s there. Hmm.
You tuck the box of chocolates coyly behind your back and tap your knuckles twice against the door. He’s been waiting for you: if you couldn’t tell from the haste in which he opens the door, then the antsy little smile on his face would surely give it away.
“Hi, Jade.”
“Hello, my dear Prefect. Do you have something for me?”
“Well, aren’t you cocky,” you grin, withdrawing the heart-shaped box from behind you and placing it in his waiting hands. “Happy Valentine’s.”
“Happy Valentine’s,” he parrots, lifting the lid with a tiny gasp. “Mushroom-shaped…?”
“Did I go overboard? I almost put them in a mushroom-shaped box too, but I was worried you’d think it was Mushroom Day, not Valentine’s. For the record, I know you’re more than just ‘mushroom man’, but—”
“It’s perfect.”
A cacophony of thumps and yelps from down the hall draws away your attention.
You sigh like a weary parent of seven when you spot them. “I told them to behave—”
“It’s alright,” Jade chuckles, merely withdrawing into the room to grab a stack of… envelopes? “Allow me to handle this.”
“Jade Leech, if you’re blackmailing my friends, I will fry you alive.”
“I'd do nothing of the sort!” he laughs, prying off the hand with which you'd subconsciously gripped his arm. “No need to worry. I’ll be back in just a moment.”
So you watch from the doorway as your boyfriend eerily approaches your dogpiled gaggle of idiots. They’re too far and Jade’s voice too quiet for you to hear, but as the latter hands them the ominous envelopes, their feelings are clear as day.
You follow your friends’ journey of expressions, beginning with fear, morphing to confusion, then shock, and settling into joy before they roll off of each other and shuffle back down the hall with such excitement you’d think they won the lottery. Ace even throws you a quick thumbs up.
Your eel returns with a satisfied smile, summoning a pouch that couldn’t fit in his pocket. He presents it with a flourish: magical sparkles and pink hearts that float about like bubbles in the air. “And for you.”
“Jade…” You gingerly take the sachet and open it, revealing chocolates in your favourite flavour. But that aside: “Did you just pay my friends a dowry?”
“My, such marital language! I had no idea you’d set your sights so far ahead.”
Your blood runs cold. Too much. “Wait, I—Not like—!”
“To think that we haven’t even had our first kiss yet,” he prattles on, ignoring your protests completely. “Marriage! How scandalous, fufufu.”
Right. It’s near impossible to weird out (or outweird) Jade Leech.
Your face contorts into a cringe, whether at his antics or at yourself for finding him even remotely charming, indeterminable. “Alright, buddy. I’m starting to think you’ll never experience either of those things.”
“And if it wasn’t enough to tease me with the dream of marriage, you threaten to deprive me of your affection. Poor, unfortunate me, to have fallen for someone so cruel. Boo hoo.”
Your grimace is impossible to maintain as his brows furrow and his lips press into a dramatic, irritatingly adorable pout.
His.
Lips.
…Nope. You’re not about to reward him for his bullshit.
You press a chocolate into his mouth and nudge him away by the forehead.
“You sure live up to your name, Leech.”
“There’s no one I'd rather be stuck to,” he hums with his mouth full, “though I did intend for these chocolates to be eaten by you.”
If you tasted him now…
…Nope x2.
You stash away the sweets and leave, holding your hand out beside you until Jade inevitably catches up to you and slips his fingers into yours.
“Now this feels familiar, doesn’t it?”
You squeeze Jade’s mittened hand in silent agreement. As you walk hand-in-hand through the harbour, you’re reminded of your first date in the Kingdom of Roses. Though this time, instead of summer fare and games, it’s… lovey-dovey stuff.
Each shop has a Valentine’s promotional deal, game stalls host challenges for couples to test their bond, pop-up vendors sell charms for ‘everlasting love’. And people actually showed up for this bogus.
You could’ve sworn there weren’t this many people on this tiny island, but everyone must’ve come up from RSA since they’re mushy like that (ew). Can’t relate, you think, ogling your boyfriend whenever you think he’s not looking. (He always is, to both your embarrassment and your pleasure.)
Jade gestures with your joined hands at a nearby booth. “They’re giving out free lip balm at that booth there.”
“Free?” Enough said. “Lead the way.”
When you reach the front of the line, you realise that it’s not exactly for free, per se.
“So here’s how it works,” the brand ambassador explains. “I’m going to give one of you a cotton swab with a secret flavour, and the other will have to correctly guess the flavour for you to get your free lip balms. Sound good?”
The Chapstick Challenge.
“Excellent,” chirps your scheming boyfriend, clearly unsurprised by this information and far too pleased with himself.
“Uh huh,” you grumble, exercising your nastiest side-eye.
You snatch the cotton swab yourself before Jade gets any more ideas. For a split second, you consider applying it to yourself… but no.
Grasping his chin with your free hand, you trace his lips with the applicator. Frictionless, it glides over the peachy skin and leaves behind an even film of balm.
“You slimy eel,” you whisper, deep in concentration. “You’re not chapped at all.”
Smug eyes are what you expect to see when you look up. Instead, his eyes are blown wide and dazed. Heh.
“Here goes!” you announce louder than needed. Then, angling yourself to block the worker’s view, you bring your face ever closer to Jade’s, lips ever closer to his…
Just enough to catch a whiff of the balm.
You whip back around before your lips can touch. “Lavender vanilla?”
“Yes, that’s right! Here’s your prize!”
You’re forced to tug your eel by the hand to get him moving again.
“I’ve fallen for a tease,” he sighs after five minutes.
“Well I’ve fallen for a swindler,” you titter back. “C’mon, my swindler, I know you’re hungry. Let’s go get some food, hmm?”
“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
Because Fate hates you, you happen to lead your boyfriend into a pasta restaurant where the owners greet you so warmly, you're now morally obligated to stay and order something.
And of course, because Cupid hates you too, this restaurant has a promotional deal: finish a bowl of one (1, singular) ultra long spaghetto with your significant other to get 30% off your meal. Jade’s eyes regain their light (read: cunning gleam) upon hearing this. You, on the other hand, do not want to have your first kiss over a literal noodle.
But 30% off the meal… And the only conditions are that you finish in under five minutes and eat from one end of the noodle?
Of course you accept the challenge, to your eel’s poorly concealed excitement.
So the waiter brings out the manhole-cover-sized dish, Jade bites one end of the noodle, you the other, and the timer starts.
End held between your lips, you glance casually at the waiter, who stares back at you with bewilderment. You glance back at Jade, who stares back at you with determination. He’s already halfway through the pasta by the 1-minute mark.
You feel just a little bad when the intact end of the noodle slips from your lips, vacuumed straight into the maw of your resigned boyfriend.
“Uh, wow…!” the waiter nods, baffled. “You finished in 2:11, so I guess that’s a success?”
“Sorry for being a poor sport,” you chuckle. “I’m sure you guys expect your participants to kiss, but my boyfriend here is just ravenous today so I thought he’d appreciate the extra portion.”
“Oh, n-no, that's fine! A lot of people try the challenge with their friends and we don't ask them to kiss, obviously,” the waiter rambles. “Uh, I'm just shocked that he ate all that on his own… and so quickly? It takes pairs at least four minutes!”
“And he’s still hungry, believe it or not!” Being seated side-by-side, it’s easy to peck Jade on the cheek. “Incredible, isn’t he? I’m so lucky to have him.” You pointedly play up the goo-goo eyes, amused at the way his eyes glaze over in defeat.
Of course you’d like to kiss him.
But so would he, and it’s good to make your eel work for what he wants, just once in a while. Enrichment’s healthy!
Jade’s resolve is wavering just a little.
“Look over there, my loving Valentine,” he notes with sarcastic monotony, “it’s a kissing contest.”
Subtle.
“So it is.”
“I’d imagine it would be very cathartic to express one’s affection so freely. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I would.”
He stops in front of you, eyeing your lips. “Oya? Then what are we waiting for?”
Smirking, you clasp your bare hands behind the eel’s neck; his amber eye shines ever brighter with hope. But to his chagrin, your attention is pulled elsewhere. “Wait, there’s a photo booth!”
“Ah. I’ve heard about those. I’ve still yet to try one.”
“There’s a first time for everything!” you pipe, beelining for the amenity.
It’s four photos to a strip and two copies are printed: you take one and sunnily slot the other between your eel’s frozen fingers.
The first photo is comedically tacky, as intended. Your right and Jade’s left hands form the stiff, distinct shape of a heart; you don the most awkward grin you could muster, he wears his signature polite-and-nothing-more smile. It looks like you’re both terrible actors being held at gunpoint to play the role of a lovey-dovey couple.
The second photo shows the aftermath of performing such a terrible (albeit deliberate) display: the left half blurred with candid laughter (yours) and the right half still and calm (Jade). He’s smiling, genuinely, half-lidded eyes fondly trained on your dynamic visage.
The third photo is a snapshot summary of today. Jade leans in toward you, his desires clear, and you press your fingers over his lips in a gentle rejection. He looks at you with acceptance and affection; you look back with an amused grin (and equal fondness).
The fourth photo is Jade’s favourite. Well, actually, he hasn't seen it yet. But once he regains his senses, you have no doubt!
After all, it's the picture of your first kiss: chaste and sweet and picture-perfect.
You wake in the morning to a voice message from Floyd in the middle of the night, whining about how his brother is broken again; Jade won’t stop giggling and grinning in his sleep. And sure enough, when the former swung his phone closer to the source of the sound…
“…mmm…again…fufufu…”
Cute.
Cute.
You make sure to download and back up the recording in at least five different locations, for safekeeping.
Stupid Ace jinxed you.
“He’s gonna be too busy being a vice-housewarden and thinking about his internship!”
That’s what Ace said back in September!
…Okay, maybe it’s not Ace’s fault. But it’s also not Jade’s fault. Nor is it yours.
It’s everything else’s fault.
The arrival of spring marks the beginning of a storm of projects, labs, and mock exams leading up to finals in June. And on top of all that, your boyfriend has vice-housewarden duties and the Lounge and internship applications to worry about.
‘Worry’, of course, being relative; he seems to be managing just fine. And that’s the worst part, ashamed as you are to admit it.
Because he’s fine without you.
Does he miss you even a fraction as much as you miss him?
Would he be just as happy if you’d never confessed to him?
Oh Seven. If you’re like this already… how are you going to manage next year when you’re even farther apart?
You should be happy for him, happy that he’s doing well; you should have more faith in your relationship, be less insecure and clingy and insufferable. But as the weeks pass and your paths cross less and less, catching the rare sight of him from across the hall feels more painful than it should.
You don’t tell Jade any of this; no need to make a mess of things when he’s got more important things to deal with. At the very least, it can wait until after exams are done.
And things could always be worse!
Case in point: the annual Starsending ceremony being thrown into the mix.
First off, finals season and the weeks leading up to it are already stressful. As fun as it is to wish upon a star, unfortunately, finishing that essay worth 35% and due in five hours might just take higher priority.
Plus, you'd completely forgotten this tradition existed. It's only your second year in this world, after all, so excuse you for not being used to all the new customs. You also didn’t make a wish last year, so the memory of the ceremony must've been thrown to the back of your mind—buried under all the overblots, perhaps!
It certainly didn’t help either to receive the reminder no more than a week before the ceremony. The three unfortunate souls chosen to be Stargazers will have their work cut out for them.
And just who are the selected Stargazers? (Take a guess!) The horoscopes this year landed on November 5th—Jade and Floyd’s birthday—
and your birthday. Congrats.
One after another, Crowley assigns you the position of Stargazer, the role of drummer in the ceremony itself, and the traditional Stargazer uniform (which is very… attention-grabbing).
“…Do I really have to wear this outside the ceremony?”
“Why, of course! Haven’t you heard of the phrase, ‘dress for success’?” the Headmage replies with theatrical enthusiasm, then sobers. “A Stargazer out of uniform would leave a lasting bad impression. I'd be sure not to forget it.”
You shudder.
By the time you’ve gotten changed and swapped Grim’s ribbon to match, Jade has already magically donned his own uniform, and Floyd is… nowhere to be found. No surprises there.
But back to Jade: your eyes skim right over the uniform itself and hone in on
b a r e s h o u l d e r s .
The muscles flex, rolling back in a smooth wave, taunting.
“My,” Jade giggles coyly behind his naked hand, “your gawking has me feeling incredibly flustered.”
Voiceless, you tug the dropped sleeves of his cape up and over the curve of his shoulders; they fall helplessly back down to their original position, ornate embroidery framing flawless skin. Damn it.
The eel cocks his head, chin resting against loose fist. “Is there something wrong with my appearance?” he coos, like he doesn’t already know.
You lean forward, muffling your exasperated groan in layers of (boyfriend) material. Your heart has been aching lately, but the sweetness in Jade’s chuckle and the way he cradles your head against him soothes the sting.
Through luck and madness, you somehow survive. Three unit tests, an alchemy practical, Starsending ceremony rehearsals, the collection of hundreds of Wishing Stars, and you’re still alive.
Between your reputation (respected as the dependable Prefect and/or feared as Jade Leech’s partner) and threats incentives (brandishing Grim as a flamethrower and/or mentioning your boyfriend by name), the latter went smoother than you’d expected.
The process is simple: confront the target, demand they declare their wish, witness their Wishing Star light up with magic, collect it, and hang it up on the designated tree behind the school.
By Friday, all the stars have been collected and hung but Jade’s; a total happenstance—or so you thought. He clearly had different plans.
When the eel opens his door to you the next morning, you're hit with a small but uncharacteristic bout of fear.
“…Jade.”
“Yes, my star?”
“Seven,” you flinch at the new, festive pet name, and his gleaming eyes crinkle into delighted crescent moons. But nevermind the nickname, “Why are you wearing that?”
The ceremonial clothes. Pretty shoulders out there for all (you) to see.
“To collect your Wishing Star, of course.”
“No,” you drawl incredulously, “I’m collecting your star.”
Silence from Jade; the cattish grin on his face speaks for itself: Plans change.
You squint back. “Well, Floyd took my wish already.”
He hums, unconvinced. “Your wish, or Grim’s wish? I’m aware that the Headmage provided only one Wishing Star to share between you.”
“It’s worth more to him than to me. I don't mind.”
“I do.” He slips a jagged weight into your open palm, supporting your hand with his own. “Make your wish. We’ll light it with my magic.”
Void of magic, the magestone—Jade’s Wishing Star—is dark save for the hairline veins, smoky white, running through the mineral like rippling seafoam. Each of the uneven edges presses a soothing kiss to the nerves in your fingers.
A dismissive chuckle breezes past your teeth. Laying your heart bare for a casual tradition isn’t exactly an appealing idea. A throwaway, then: “I wish you’d wear normal clothes.”
The dusky glasslike stone stays unlit.
Jade titters, “Come now, don't waste our wish.”
“What do you mean? That’s what I want.”
He tips your chin to meet his eyes. “It’d be a shame if we resorted to my unique magic to know your true wish.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“I wouldn’t,” he concedes, returning his hand to cradle yours. “I’ll be saving that for a more important question.”
You get a rush of tingles for some indiscernible reason. “Ominous,” you laugh.
He sighs sweetly. Such softness in his gaze, you’d think he was looking at a particularly freaky mushroom but no, he’s looking at you.
Oh. It's the way he looks at you that gives you the tingles. And also maybe the way he touches you. And—
Great Seven, you've been dating this eel for almost a year now; shouldn't you be less lovesick by now? Less distraught when you're apart? Less smitten by his mere existence?
This whole tradition, these Wishing Stars are purely symbolic. It won’t matter whether you wish to grow another 20 centimetres in height, or to do well in your finals, or for Jade to cover his damn shoulders. A silly wish won't overwrite reality.
But something about him makes you want to wish wholeheartedly anyway.
What to wish for, though?
‘For your internship to be fruitful’? Only a fraction of what you truly want.
‘To live the rest of my life in your arms’? …Tone it down a notch, pal.
‘That Azul would stop giving you so many shifts at the Lounge’? Okay, now you’re just griping.
You sigh, “I don’t know how to word it.”
“Is that so?” he hums with an impish grin, removing his hands. “Or are you simply self-censoring?
“Would it help if I told you that I love you? Or that I suffer in your absence?”
´(º—º)`
Kaput! goes your heart, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH goes your brain.
“Jade, what—”
“I suppose I’ll suggest something, then,” he interrupts. “Do let me know if I’m on the wrong track.
“‘We wish for the next year to be kind to us, and for any time we spend apart to pass in the blink of an eye.’ Is that alright?”
With wide eyes, you nod.
“Wonderful.” He places his hands back around yours and recites the wish; this time, the star sparks alight like striking a match. You’ve watched this process over a hundred times now, but it feels different this time: more brilliant, more meaningful.
The glowing centre of the magestone shines gold like Jade’s left eye, and at the pointed edges, fades into a soothing teal the same soothing teal as Jade’s hair. Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
You open your mouth. “Jade—”
“Shall we go hang this—”
“Shush for just a second, will you?!” you bark, shaking him like a broken vending machine by the lapels of his cape; obediently, his mouth snaps shut. “We’re not just breezing by that!”
“…by what?” your eel feigns innocence.
Even as you glare at him—him with his knowing, expectant, self-satisfied little smile (stupid, stupid, stupid)—you can’t even manage to find him any less adorable.
“I hate you,” you lie, but the sweet kisses you press to his cheeks, his nose, his forehead each confess I love you, I love you, I love you.
Just before meeting his, your lips bespeak your true reply: “I love you too.”
Crowley’s year-end homily feels shorter this time; maybe that’s because you now have the clarity to actually listen. He probably reuses the same script every year, not that it's particularly remarkable: “What a pleasure it’s been to foster the academic progress of so many fledging mages!” and “This year has been fruitful for all of us!” and whatnot.
With the conclusion of the ceremony, you scoop Grim up and follow the flow with your clump of friends, yelling to each other about your summer plans as to be heard through the raucous crowd.
When you spot your boyfriend waiting for you in the courtyard and announce, “Bye, guys! Have a good summer!” your friends are all sunny smiles and laughs. Not a hint of stress to be found in your group, no concerns for your judgement, no suggestions or offers for alternative plans. Even Grim, who’s coming with you, has (close to) no complaints.
“Have a good summer,” they simply parrot, “invite us over sometime!”
One year ago, you confessed to Jade Leech. You did it with logic at heart, but faulty logic in practice.
And yet as he peers back at you with adoration in his eyes, one hand jingling a pair of keys to a flat—to your flat in Ultramarine City—and the other hand outstretched for you to take, you can’t help but wonder why you ever doubted this contingency at all.
initial concept inspired by schoenpepper’s “Jade Leech and the Three Breakups” (deactivated; reblog to view the full fic) and cannedpickledpeaches’ “Sad Poems but I Choose to Interpret Them as Happy” :) honourable mention to rel124c41’s many masterful fics (like this one, this one, and these ones) which simultaneously fed and fuelled my cravings for jade :’0 sorry for being so annoying but her works were genuinely the biggest reason i could finish this mess with any sanity remaining whatsoever
edit: oh my god i forgot to fix the part after the kiss where it's implied jade and floyd are still sleeping in the same bedroom. please pretend one of the following:
a) floyd felt like sleeping over and so jade let him stay
b) floyd barged into jade's room at 2 am and the latter slept through it
c) floyd hears him through the walls because jade is in fact yelling in his sleep, which you somehow find "cute" (this one's my favourite)
synopsis: after overhearing a conversation from the tweels, you think that jade's tired of you. because you're withdrawing from him, jade resorts to one thing: woo you once more.
“Jade~! I think I’m done now, how did I do?” Sitting up on his bed, you show your boyfriend the homework you sort-of-but-not-really desperately asked help on.
“Are you, now? Let me have a look, then,” Looking up from his desk, he wears his signature smile–though he holds a little more fondness in his eyes whenever it’s directed at you.
Nights like this were common. Sprawled out somewhere in his room you’d lie around going on Magicam, messing with Jade’s hair (who knew your eel could look so cute in pigtails?), or on nights like this, swinging by to ask help for Potions class…with a secret agenda of wanting to sneak in a kiss and embrace your boyfriend.
“Hm, it seems you’ve successfully evaded a scolding from Sir Crewel, my dear,” Jade sits beside you where you sit, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “Though I do look forward the times you come running to me after a failed experiment, the troubled look you give me is always quite amusi–adorable.”
Before you could retort, Floyd breaks into the room with a BANG!, clearly demanding something from Jade. The sky has gotten dark, so it’s probably your cue to leave before you can get squished by a certain someone…
Closing the door behind you, hearing yourself mentioned by Floyd makes you pause.
“Hey Jade, don’tcha ever get tired of Shrimpy coming here so much? I don’t know how you aren’t bored yet.”
“The Prefect came to visit to ask questions on Potionology, but I do admit that it has become a routine for us to have my room as a meeting place after class.”
“Eh, so you aren’t tired of it?”
There’s a beat before Jade replies, “While I do enjoy the Prefect’s company, it does seem that our meetings have become quite redundant. It might prove to be a bit tiresome, yes.”
At that moment, you don’t know if you should have stopped in front of Jade’s door. Have you been intruding in his personal space? Has he simply been tolerating your presence, and simply doing what he thought would make you happy–to be the “perfect” boyfriend for you?
You quickly make your way to Ramshackle, fearing that any more talk would continue to break your heart. That night, you steel your resolve to give Jade what he wants–space, so that he wouldn’t grow bored of you, or worse, break up with you. He may claim to love you now, but with the eel’s nature of becoming quickly infatuated with something, you believe he could also drop it without hesitation as soon as it becomes mundane. You’d rather delay that outcome, if possible.
The next day goes off without a hitch–it’s like the conversation between the twins never existed, because as soon as your class is over, you see Jade standing by the door, patiently waiting for you to come out and walk you to your next class as usual.
For some reason, you wince at the sight of him and think, is this all an act? Still, you stand by his side and greet him. He leans in to smoothen your uniform for you, “Fufu, Prefect, I assume you were in a rush this morning? Your collar is askew, but there, I’ve fixed it,” He holds out his arm to you, “Shall we walk to your next class?”
You stretch out your arm to link it with his, as if by muscle memory, but stop yourself midway, remembering his words from the night before. Instead, you choose to position your hands behind your back, grinning up at Jade. His usual smile doesn’t falter, but you notice the slight twitch of his eyebrows at your decision to withhold physical contact, how unusual, he thinks. Despite the tension in the air, your eel still walks you to history next. Still, he doesn’t stop his attempts at growing closer to you.
“Would you allow me to hold your things for you, my dear? I see you’ve forgotten to hand me your books.”
“Well, I just feel like carrying them myself today. Also, I’ll just see you at Mostro Lounge later, you don’t have to walk me to flight class anymore. I have to grab something from Deuce in between.”
Ouch. Met with another rejection, and plighted with the news of you meeting with another boy (though that boy is a certified goofball), clearly avoiding him. What could you possibly ask from that Heartslabyul boy that he couldn’t provide for you? Besides that, you were always delighted to be by his side. It made no sense to change your routine even if you did need to pick up something. He’d simply accompany you. What caused you behavior to go amiss? He wonders, and catches on that something is wrong, fast.
Not wanting to act without being certain, your wounded eel accepts your words for now. “I see, I’ll be awaiting your presence at the lounge tonight, then.”
Little does he know, you take his lack of objection as further confirmation that you’ve been too clingy, and your chest feels a bit tighter.
As you two part, Jade somehow comes to the conclusion that he must woo you–again.
But now, you fully believe he’s grown tired of you.
“Hiya Shrimpy~ are ya lookin’ for Jade? He’s in the kitchen makin’ a special meal for ya, or so he says,” Floyd shoots you a lazy grin and slings his arm over your shoulder, which earns a nasty glare from Jade standing by the counter. Why are you accepting his touch, but not mine? It turns out that your eel is a bit more dramatic that he lets on.
When you approach him, he lays out a meal he prepared for you, along with your favorite tea. Freeing you from Floyd’s grasp, he places his hand on your shoulder as he guides you to one of the booths at the center of the Lounge. You notice that his grip is a bit firmer than usual, and that his smile towards you seems a bit strained.
Once you’re seated, you expect Jade to go on with the rest of his shift and serve the other customers pooling in, but he instead takes the seat beside yours, leaving almost no space between the two of you, and grabs a bite of the food and…turns to you?
“Prefect, I’ve made your favorite today, now if you would just open wide and say, ‘ahh’,”
You feel Jade’s cold fingers on your chin that move to make you face him. With his eyes meeting yours, you notice that his features seem more relaxed now compared to earlier–the strain in his smile is now replaced with a look of fondness. Why was your eel acting extra sweet today?
However, you feel the looks you’re getting from the other students dining in at the lounge. You remember that to them, it seems uncanny that the ever so intimidating, cold, and scary Jade Leech is looking at you like you hung the moon–not to mention feeding you a bite of his cooking!
You have no choice but to play along to his whims, and move to taste the food. It’s cooked to perfection–perfectly adjusted to your tastes. You can tell Jade’s spent time trying to cater to the flavors you enjoy, but you can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness gripe at your heart knowing this could be the last time you’ll ever try it. Instead of responding with praise, as you normally do, you silently chew on your food, with a neutral look on your face.
“Hm, is something the matter, Prefect? I believe I’ve cooked the meal to your liking, or perhaps your tastes have changed?” Jade presses his eyebrows together and pouts to give you a look of feigned hurt, which you’re familiar with by now, but for some reason his tone seems to hold genuine concern. All this over food, Jade? At the moment, you can’t tell what he’s thinking anymore. “Is it perhaps the position we’re sitting in that makes you uncomfortable? I did try to reserve the best seats in the lounge for you, I thought you might enjoy a change from where we usually sit.”
What kind of stunt is this eel trying to pull? Is the extra sweetness part of the act?? Does he know that you overheard him and Floyd last night???
You offer Jade a flushed look, half because of how cute his concerned face looks and the other half being that you have no idea what to think anymore. Distracted by your adorable reaction, Jade believes his plan is working.
What really sends you into overdrive, is when he walks you home from Mostro Lounge. Instead of offering his arm to you once again, he silently intertwines his gloved hands with yours as you make your way to Ramshackle dorm–leaving you no room to refuse his touch.
“Prefect, please send me recipes you’d like to try in the future, I’ll try to recreate them for you if today’s cooking was not to your liking. Perhaps you’d like to have a dish with shrimp in it, fufu,” your eel teases you about your earlier lack of reaction. While he may jest, he secretly worries that his efforts haven’t reached you. After all, his main goal of the night was to please you, and remove the doubt in his mind that you were distancing yourself from him.
Reaching the gate of Ramshackle dorm, you speak up, “Jade, I can go from here. Thank you for cooking for me, it really was good,” for some reason, it sounded like the last time he’d cook for you, Jade thought. How curious.
Of course, what kind of gentleman would he be if he allowed that to happen? “My dear, do you think I don’t have the decency to walk you to your door? You wound me, Prefect,” the grip he has on your hand feels tighter as he walks the path leading to your home, “Come, I’ll even make some tea for you inside, if you’d like.” But as he expected, you take the chance to refuse his effort of spending any more time with you.
So your beloved eel resorts to one last thing as you approach your door, “I shall brew you a drink another time then, Prefect,” he slithers his free hand around your waist to pull you closer, enough for you to pick up on his comforting scent. Then, he brings your hand up to place a kiss inside your palm, looking up at you with his smile, “Have a good night, my dear.”
You find yourself surprised at his sudden display of affection, he must still be toying with me, huh? Either way, you still feel an overwhelming sense of giddiness being on the receiving end of such love from your eel, whether or not the reason behind it is actually what you think. Not wanting to let your feelings show, however, you simply nod and wave him goodbye.
Jade can’t help but feel the distance between the both of you grow, despite his efforts. However, little does he know that how you watch him leave all the way until his figure disappeared from your sight. His actions confuse you, but it doesn’t stop you from longing the times you could indulge yourself in his sweetness.
The following week was the same–you were under the impression that Jade had grown bored of you, and that he was toying with your feelings at this point before dropping you eventually. You rejected his advances as physical affection, spent more time with Grim and your friends, and rarely dropped by his room to hangout. On the other hand, Jade was working harder than ever to get on your good side again. He was unfamiliar with the feeling of being unsettled by one person, a human at that. However, your boyfriend mistakes the feeling of missing your active presence for being unsettled.
He had been needlessly sweet to you the past week. He began appearing at your doorstep in the morning with a drink in one hand and offering to carry your books in the other, but not without taking your hand to place a chaste kiss on it first. He also started acting more physically affectionate with you too, which wouldn’t be weird if not for where he’d do it. In the past, Jade preferred to show your affections in private, but now, he’ll bring you close and lay his head on your shoulder in the middle of the courtyard, claiming that he needs to rest! What a sneaky eel you have.
Deciding you’ve had enough of this confusion, you gather in the big leagues to ask advice. Certainly, you’d consult those seasoned in the area of relationships, with mature minds and words of wisdom. Surely, maybe someone like Vil or Trey, an experienced senio-
In your living room, you sit across Ace and Deuce.
Not that you had a choice, because they noticed how lovey-dovey you and your boyfriend have been lately and decided to make it their problem because surely something MUST have happened!
Click clack…Jade opens the gate to Ramshackle, holding a container of sweets you mentioned the other day, hopeful to gain an excited reaction and maybe a little praise coming from you.
“Okay guys, the truth is, I overheard Jade and Floyd talking about me the other night and….”
Oho? By now, Jade’s reached your door and is about to knock, a polite smile on his face, but he pauses when he overhears you mentioning his name. The Prefect is chatting about me even in her private time, how adorable.
“What did that bastard say about you??? Does he need to be taken care of???” Ace exclaims loudly, clearly carried over by emotion. Deuce aggressively shakes his head in agreement.
“Wait! I didn’t even get to that part yet…you see, he said that I’m too tiresome to be with….”
Hm. Jade wasn’t expecting that. In fact, he was a little hurt at the fact that you could even consider he’d think that of you.
“--and I think the reason he's being so much sweeter towards me these days is because he knows I overheard them. Is it all an act? I can’t tell anymore, but I don’t have the heart to ask, in case I’m right…”
Jade stands still in front of your door, his smile intact, your sweets still in hand. But to his surprise, he almost drops them.
Clutching them a little harder now, he takes a step backwards and decides to retreat. He takes big strides over Ramshackle’s lawn. How odd of me, he thinks. He’d usually take the chance to scare first-years and amuse himself with their reactions when they find out he’d been listening in, and of course, he’d like to soothe your doubts right then and there–but a big part of him doesn’t realize how much he actually treasures you. He needs to corner you talk to you privately. It’s all an excuse, because he needed to compose himself lest he breaks down your door.
Jade hates how you ever thought of those things in the first place. How could you doubt this eel’s sincere heart that only wishes to win your affection once more? With a new resolve, he concludes that he must seek you out directly.
How direct? Well…how about eel appearing in your kitchen first thing in the morning?
Waking up to the smell of your favorite food is something you haven’t experienced since coming to Twisted Wonderland. There go the ghosts, messing with the kitchen. But wait, why does it smell…really good? Like the kind only Jade would make you?
Dragging yourself out of bed and hopping down the stairs, still in your pajamas. You see the tall figure of your boyfriend brewing some tea, and you’re met with his signature smile when he turns around. You can’t decide if you’re ecstatic to see him so early in the morning or afraid because he’s now spreading his antics to your dorm, wondering what’ll happen next.
“Have you slept well, dear Prefect? Come, I’ve prepared you your favorite meal–I especially foraged the ingredients for this dish.” Jade takes hold of your arm and leads you to sit on the dining table, occupying the space next to you. He’s already dressed in his uniform, his black strand of hair straightened, and gloved hand already pouring out tea for you to drink.
“Jade…this is really sweet and all, but can I ask you one thing?
Here it comes, “Of course. By the looks of it, I assume it’ll be quite a fun discussion, fufu.”
“Why are you being so nice to me?” You don’t mean for it to sound so blunt, but you’ve only just woken up, after all. It’s the one thing that’s been weighing on your mind since that night–is he just acting the part of a “perfect” boyfriend, when in reality, he finds your company to be quite meddlesome? Why does he still keep you around, or rather, actively seek you out more than ever now, if you aren’t amusing to him anymore?
“Ah, is it so unusual of me to want to treat my beloved so well? I must say, I am a bit hurt that you would doubt my actions toward you,” his eyebrows knit together, forming that worried expression of his, “On the contrary, dear, might I ask you why you’ve been acting differently as of late?”
Now he’s turning this on you, huh? Well, you decide, there’s no other choice but to come off clean, and end your worries once and for all. You take a deep breath, before telling him, “Okay, the truth is…I overheard you and Floyd talking the other night. Remember when I came by to ask help on Potionology?”
“Of course, I remember that you followed my tutoring so well–it seemed that asking for “help” was just an excuse to seek out my affection that night, though~”
You laugh dryly, wondering why he was acting fond of your physical touch, “Jade, I think it’s time to end this. I heard you tell Floyd that I come to your room too much, that it’s tiresome to always be with me. I’ve known you long enough to expect that you’d eventually grow bored of me.”
“I tried to keep my distance from you and give you a chance to break up the routine of being with me, but why are you acting this way? Why are you suddenly being more…romantic, sweet, than normal?”
On the outside, Jade maintains a neutral expression. But internally, he feels a foreign feeling of disappointment. Not at you–never at you. But at himself, for not relaying his true emotions toward you. Was that truly what you thought of him?
“Prefect…I believe you have a wrong idea of how the conversation went on. Would you like me to tell you the full details?”
Huh???
“While it is true, Floyd did ask me if I had gotten tired of…our time together, my response was referring to the fact that we usually meet at my quarters. I was considering the option that you’d appreciate if we had a change of pace, and go someplace else for a change. I was thinking of other ways to please you. I never thought that you would interpret our conversation in that way.
Extending his hand to place on your cheek, he continues, “On the contrary, I thought I had done something amiss, and my behavior the past weeks has been an attempt to court you once again. To you, I extend my deepest apologies–I find it difficult to imagine that I would ever get tired of you.”
“If you would allow me, I would like to take care of the perpetrator of the issue,” Jade grins, his eyes uneven. The way his eyes glimmered, you knew that a certain twin would be on the receiving end of his wrath. He made a move to stand up, possibly to make his way to Octavinelle and beat up talk to his brother, but you quickly pulled him back down to his seat. You’d rather have your eel intact so he could hear what you had to say.
“Oh Jade, I’m sorry too–I can’t believe I…” Now you just felt mildly embarrassed, and a bit angry at yourself for letting your thoughts consume you. After a beat, you found yourself in a fit of laughter at how badly you misunderstood the conversation. Jade looks down at you with a fond smile, seemingly content with the outcome of your discussion–how long had it been since he saw you so carefree around him?
You wrap your arms around his and lean your head on his shoulder, and look up at him, “So…you don’t mind it if I do this, after all?” A sly grin occupies your face, your eyes crinkling at the thought that Jade might love you more than you thought.
“Not at all, instead, I do wish you would show your affections toward me more freely. Seeing how much you’ve rejected my advances toward you in past weeks, you have a lot to make up for, Prefect, fufu,” Jade gives you a chilling smile, but now you know his words are genuine–your eel simply missed you.
“Now then, while I admit that you look quite…adorable in your sleeping attire, shall I offer you my assistance in getting ready for the day, my dear?”
Now that you’ve resolved your grave misunderstanding with Jade, you thought that you two would go back to normal–but it seems your eel had other plans. It seems his attempts to woo you haven’t ceased, as you walk down Ramshackle’s rickety stairs to see Jade cooking you breakfast once more. He’s been at it since the first day he came.
You come up from behind to embrace him, but sensing your footsteps, he turns to face you. “Prefect, you’re awake. I’ll be finished in a bit. ” He ruffles your bedhead and leans in to kiss your forehead, “Fufu, or would you rather join me and prepare our meal together?”
You let out a satisfied huff, and ask, “Jade, why do you still come by everyday? Not that I’m complaining, but you don’t have to do all this after, you know…”
“I must admit, Prefect, that I have been wishing to act this way for a while. The situation simply provided me an opportunity to act on my desires and pamper you, fufu,” Jade gives you the smile you know so well, and you can’t help but bury your head on his shoulder, “Ah, Jade…why are you so cute…”
“I don’t know what you mean, Prefect, I’d say you’re quite adorable yourself,” He gently smoothes down your bedhead once more. The both of you stay standing in the kitchen, embracing one another and enjoying each other’s company.
After a while, you look up at your boyfriend. “Jade…I think something’s burning.”
Unfazed, he gently lets go of your arms and turns off the stove. “It seems I lose track of time when I’m you, my beloved. Your touch is too tempting for me to resist, fufu.”
“Just admit you forgot!!”
i eat this trope up everytime i see it and i wanted to write one with jade !! sothis is actually the first thing i've ever fully written before anything else lol please be very kind with me lol (Not that edited either we ball or it'd never see the light of day !!!)
inspired by "an affection anthology" by twstyturny and "jade leech and the three breakups" by schoenpepper (graciously reblogged by twstyturny as well) !!! i <3 the hurt comfort these fics have hihi this has been living in my head rent free since i read it its so so good i love it love it
Kalim Al-Asim x GN Reader. One-shot, fluffy and heartwarming. More than friends, not yet lovers setting. Minor mention of events during chapter 4 (no big spoilers). Use of Japanese words (only "senpai") because I am a huge weeaboo who loves the language, so please ignore if that's not your cup of tea. Otherwise, enjoy!
Water.
The thought jolts you awake. The embrace of the weaving wind, sweeping in from the balcony, feels cool against your skin – a stark contrast with the rising morning sun. You glide through the cotton sheets, kicking the crimson silk quilt aside, to find one single glass on top of the bedside table. It’s been deliberately placed there for your convenience, and as you chug the lukewarm liquid, you realize you’re not exactly where you’re supposed to be.
Unlike your mossy, creaking, humid Ramshackle Dorm, the room that expands before your eyes is dry, vast, and bright as the dawn itself. There are no windows, only pillars that lead to a lower terrace; and in the distance, you can hear the fluttering of birds and the gushing of the Scarabia fountain.
...no, that’s not all your ears pick up. To the side, on a sofa, a quiet, sigh-like breathing. Tangled into himself, limbs all sprawled out, beneath velour sheets and a lightweight turban, is Kalim Al-Asim.
Wait, what!?
If the first wake-up call had been your desperate thirst for water, the second was the now blazing feeling building up in your chest, alongside a thousand questions. How did this happen? Did we...? No, no way, right? He’d never...!
Your zonked out brain tries to recall last night, but all you can remember is the dancing, the laughing, the singing, the baklava, and then the falling asleep in the common room – and yes, you are sure of it, because you certainly had sunk into the lounge carpet, succumbing to exhaustion after a delightful Scarabian soiree. Kalim had plopped down close by, if memory served you right – he’d been doting on you (and by extension Grim) all night long, in a way that made it hard to distinguish if his intentions were platonic; teaching you how to shimmy your shoulders for a traditional Scalding Sands dance, bringing the best and sweetest parts of their dessert buffet to the both of you, and just in general keeping you company. But as extroverted and unwittingly flirtatious the boy could get, he’d only go as far as a polite arm across your shoulders, and mostly in the context of dancing, so you never minded.
Yet there you were in Kalim’s room. Sleepwalking? Not that you were aware of, so something or someone must have taken you there. Grim is nowhere to be seen, and you start to get impatient and fearful. Suddenly, the doors smack wide open, and your heart does a summersault.
“You’re awake, I see,” Jamil announces flatly, with his notorious nonchalance. “Come. Breakfast is served.”
It seems the panic and confusion are seeping out of your face, through your eyes, unable to control your own facial expressions – because Jamil takes one look at you and chuckles ever so lightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll explain over food. Let’s go,” he insists.
Not like you have any other choice, so you follow. Kalim, however, mumbles unintelligibly in his sleep, switches sides and continues his uninterrupted slumber. His retainer is less than amused; and breathes out an exasperated groan while muttering something that sounds like “Let him be.”
Through the Scarabia hallways, students are starting to come to their senses; perhaps, woken up by the delicious smell of fresh herbs and piping-hot tea. The lounge is as if no-one had partied in it exactly the night before – you wonder if this is also product of Jamil waking up early to make preparations. Does he even sleep? He seems as sharp as ever, not a hint of tiredness in his dark, taciturn eyes. Unlike Kalim, Jamil takes no pleasure or joy in serving you food; but as it is his duty, he does pour you tea and set up a few plates close to you, just to watch you eat and drink in silence, eyebrows slightly upturned.
“Jamil-senpai. Please, say something,” you beckon.
“Hah. Sorry,” he smirks, hand hiding his mouth. The upperclassman had this habit, you noticed, of obscuring his face, whether it’d be with cloaks or his slender fingers, especially when he had unsaid thoughts. “Your dismay is all too entertaining.”
“Not to me!” you counter.
“Well, I’d love to give you peace of mind,” he continues. “But truth is, only you two know what happened behind closed doors.”
“Hey, no more teasing! You said you’d explain over food!”
“Ah, right. I did say that, didn’t I.” Jamil purses his lips while filling his own tea – the only empty cup remaining at the table. He always left himself for last. “He brought you up to his room when you were already asleep. Said something about the lounge being unsafe.”
“... that is even more confusing. I don’t get it.”
“Is my answer not to your liking? You should ask the guy himself, then.”
Kalim’s sleeping face flashes through your mind. His heavy eyelids, glistering skin – not a hint of self-awareness, completely defenseless. You’d heard that he’d been the victim of kidnappings and murder attempts in the past, and yet his slumber was like that of a child, never alert, always welcoming. It must be his trust in Jamil and his dorm students, which remained unwavering even after the incident last winter. His exuberant confidence and blind faith are the things you liked most about him, as his smile had the power to disarm even the highest walls. But then, what had he meant about the lounge being unsafe?
You must have gotten lost in your thoughts for way too long, as Jamil stifles a laugh again.
“Uh... I...” You struggle to form even the easiest sentence, your mind still lost betwixt sleep and the red-eyed boy.
“Relax. It’ll all work out,” Jamil insists, and you can’t help but wince at how empty and unconvincing those comfort words sound. “I don’t suppose you’re worried, but if anything, Kalim is not the type.”
“—the type to what?” You feel yourself blushing all over, cursing your cheeks for being too obvious.
“Hmm,” the second-year purrs, lowering his voice as he stands up. “I’ll leave you to think about that for yourself, Prefect.”
/////////////////////////////////
Just before the clock strikes eleven AM, there is a small commotion within the Scarabian dorm students, as they stop their brunch feasting to stand up in turn and call, “Good morning!”. You quickly understand this announces the arrival —or rather, the awakening of the Housewarden, who is smiling while returning the greetings, turban undone, and cheeks still marked red by the stitches of the sofa cushions.
“Y/N! Sleep well?”
“Kalim-senpai!” your body jolts straight upward at the sound of his voice calling you. “I... yes.”
The boy, however, seems completely unaware of your change in attitude. “Good to hear! Hey, lemme know whenever you need a ride back to Ramshackle, okay? Carpet and I will give you a lift.”
Is he feigning obliviousness? Does he not know? Yet someone had placed that glass of water there for you. Unless it had always been Kalim’s originally – then — had you two indirectly kissed!?
Taking a deep breath, you try to still your thoughts. “Thank you,” you say, while neatly collecting and piling up the plates you just ate in, almost as if preparing to leave. “I’d like to stay, but... Grim might be worried...” You trail off as soon as you see the evident disappointment in the young Housewarden’s face. It’s no wonder Jamil always struggles with him – the transparency in his every expression made it very hard to deny Kalim of anything. “Ah, I mean, I can still –”
“–Prefect! It’s okay,” the boy smiles. “Don’t want to keep Grim waiting, right? Come with me then!”
Kalim picks up a tea to go (much to Jamil’s dismay, “Don’t you go spilling that!”), and firmly grabs your hand. You really wish he wouldn’t, as the onlooking crowd of dorm students is now smirking and whispering amongst themselves – but there is no reasoning with the Asim heir once he’s made up his mind, and he proceeds to drag you back into the treasure room, where Magic Carpet awaits.
/////////////////////////////////
One kick and you are airborne. It’s hard to get used to the feeling – sure, flying brooms were a part of your everyday life now, but carpets were kind of pushing the envelope. And still, as unbelievable as it sounded, there you were, soaring through the sky into the late morning sun, and Kalim’s bared arms are getting goosebumps as they feel the nip of the frigid air that comes with the height.
For a while, you are both quiet, and painstakingly so. It’s rare for the Scalding Sands native to be anything but talkative and cheerful, but then again, it’s still been less than an hour since he woke up and he might be somnolent still.
“Senpai,” you call. “I’ve been meaning to ask.”
Kalim can’t fully turn around, as he’s focused on navigating the Carpet, but he does glance over his shoulder expectantly. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“I-I don’t know how to say this, but,” you gulp. “Did I sleepwalk to your bed?”
“Oh. Oh!” In what may or may not be an act – you’re not sure, but Kalim does honestly seem like he now remembered. “Sorry, sorry!” he grins. “Gave you quite a scare, didn’t I? Suppose anyone would be confused. Just thought you’d be comfier in my room.”
Kalim pauses for a second, eyes fixed on the horizon. You wonder if he is adjusting the course for your dorm, or perhaps looking for the right words to say. His fingers glide through the fabric, lightly tugging at the Magic Carpet’s tufts. While it sits two comfortably, you can’t help but notice the closeness of your bodies – the only source of heat in the otherwise chilly and cloudy skyscape; and how you’re instinctively pulling at the dangling end of his crimson turban, the golden coins attached to it chiming softly in the wind, as if you’d be able to hang on to it if you ever lost your balance. The sole intrusive and horrible thought of losing your grip and falling activates your wincing reflex, and makes you scooch over closer to the piloting Housewarden.
“After the party, after we all fell asleep in the lounge,” he goes on. “I woke up in the middle of the night for some water.”
Water. That seemed to be the connecting thread through both of your stories.
“And, uh...” the boy smiles softly, a little embarrassed at the memory. His hand shifts, now caressing the white hairs at his nape, almost absent-mindedly. “There was this guy who had fallen asleep on your legs.”
“On my legs,” you repeat like a confounded parrot who had been force-fed one too many salt crackers. “W-what do you mean?”
“I dunno. I think he fell over, or maybe he turned in his sleep. Maybe?”
“O-oh.” You are slowly trying to paint the mental picture. “You mean, like, hugging my legs?”
Kalim shrugs. The details to him were never important. “Maybe it was more with his head on your thighs. It was dark, so I couldn’t see well.”
He again looks at you, as much as his body can turn. The garnet shades in his eyes sparkle in the midday sun, so brightly you can almost see your reflection. Is he blushing, or is it the crisp air that blows at the high altitude you’re in, that erodes the skin on his cheeks ever so slightly?
“It’s the first time in my life I’ve ever felt jealous. Ahaha!” his laugh echoes clearly through the sky. “Sorry, Prefect. It’s not a lie that I thought you’d be more comfortable in my bed, but the truth is, I just didn’t want to share you.”
He averts his gaze, suddenly realizing that his statement meant Kalim considered you his in the first place. That was a lot to take in. Your gut clenches, and not because of the Carpet’s sudden descent.
“—oh, but!” he gushes, back to his usual cheerfulness. “I don’t think that student did it on purpose! Must have been an accident. Y’know, people move in their sleep,” his expression changed again, now brows frowned with worry, and you smiled a bit at the upperclassman’s ability to show six different emotions in the same breath, “Please do come to the next party! It wouldn’t be as fun without you.”
In the distance, the Ramshackle Dorm is now visible. It’s incredible how fast time would fly – pun intended – whenever he would drop you off after a soiree. Truth be told, these sorts of happenings were becoming commonplace lately.
“Prefect?” Kalim calls again, concerned at your silence. “You’re not gonna say you hate Scarabia now — are you? —wait, do you?”
“Of course not!” You assure him. “I had lots of fun. Please, invite me again.”
“That’s a relief! I’m so glad!” he says. “Oh hey, how about tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow is maybe a little too soon, senpai.”
“Ah, haha! I thought so! No shame in trying though.”
Magic Carpet softly wobbles, now floating leisurely through the air currents for the last couple minutes of the trip. It stops just before the Ramshackle Dorm’s creaky wooden doors, barely a few feet above the ground, and Kalim jumps off before you.
“Here, let me help you down.”
His warm hands gently support your weight by your elbows as you slide off – it seems most of the callouses and scratches on his fingers are fairly new, as he had never been allowed to wield knives or experiment with alchemy or play rough until he was finally granted to be able to go to school – normal school, and not one of those tutors that resided in the Asim palace. Here was an heir who had everything, yet he had only started living two years prior. And in all the weirdness of your travels in Wonderland, and the improbability of you falling through the mirror into this magical world, Kalim’s kindliness had saved you more than once. But smitten as you might be, even his hands reminded you that you were from two worlds apart, in more ways than one.
“Thank you, Carpet,” you turn around to say, which makes the enchanted tapestry twirl around in what looks like a reverential bow.
“Hey, that’s really cool of you. A lot of people treat Carpet like an object,” Kalim muses out loud, “But they have feelings, too. I consider them my prized friend.”
You still fondly remember the first flight, that winter you spent trapped in Scarabia. The boy with wide eyes and a wider smile, dazzling in the night sky. The same one who is now in front of you, still a bit self-conscious about his words earlier – you being his, and all that. If only a simple unmagical human like yourself could believe themselves worthy of a cheerful, honest, open-hearted, and to top it all off, magic-wielder like Kalim...
“Sorry – about the ‘not sharing’ non-sense earlier. You’re not an object, either,” he babbles on, his eyebrows now sulking. “I mean, obviously. Obviously, you’re not. Great going there, me...”
“If that means that I am also your prized friend,” you reply, “then I’m content.”
“Prefect! That goes without saying.” Kalim is beaming, smile too bright. “Anything you need – I’ll be there for you!”
“I know.”
You force a grin, but it’s bittersweet. To think you’d be carried in your sleep, tucked into a silk quilt, prepared a bedside glass of water by the very same heir who has servants at his every whim. The more you thought about it, the further out of reach he appeared, and the stronger your chest quivered.
“Hey. Hey, what’s wrong?” Kalim now has his hands cupping your cheeks, pulling your chin up, forcing to look at him. “I know that face! That is not a very happy face.”
“Shenpai,” you grumble through, unable to speak properly as the boy won’t let you go. “Shtop—”
“—not until you smile,” he pouts, so you oblige. His hands trail down to your shoulders, and while a part of you wants to head through the door into the dorm, running away from the butterflies in your stomach, the other half of you wants time to stop so you can etch this image into your mind: the sight of Kalim, head slightly tilted towards you, ruby eyes with heavy lids, staring at yours in adoration while he unknowingly tightens his grip and pulls you closer.
“See? Better.”
His lips press a kiss on your forehead, and you can feel a warm sigh escape them; the soft skin of his exposed neck; and his distinct scent, woody oriental perfume mixed with the cardamom tea he had earlier; skin that was always rubicund with warmth, no matter the outside temperature. The gesture says more than words ever could – you are mine, and I am yours; even though it might take you both a bit more time to be able to express it out loud. He stays there for a moment, mouth perfectly still but still flushed against you, just under the edge of your headline; now his fingers obliviously play with your hair, tucking it behind your reddened ears, tugging a bit at the lobes, just eager to caress you as much as he is allowed to. Inside Kalim's mind, he would like to confess here and now, perhaps; but he feels love declarations are to be made with parades and at least 75 golden camels and 60 elephants, so anything less would not suffice. For now, he is satisfied to simply have you there, melting into his collarbone and not shying away — for now, that is enough.
“Rest up today, alright?” Kalim takes a step back, and for a second you’re worried he might act as if nothing had happened, but you’re surprised to find he’s blushing just as much as you are. “And say hi to Grim for me.”
“I will,” you assure him. The Magic Carpet slides in behind him, and naturally, like Kalim’s got eyes on the back of his head and knows exactly where to land, he sits on the floating wonder, but his gaze doesn’t leave you.
“I’ll see you to the door.”
“Senpai. We’re already at the door.”
“Yeah — no, I know. I want to make sure you get in safe. That’s kind of silly, isn’t it? Heh,” he chuckles sheepishly, in a way that’s a bit uncharacteristic of him.
“You say that like it’s the middle of the night! It’s noon!”
“Aw, c’mon! Humor your upperclassman, just this once.”
Sighing and chuckling at the same time, you reach for the handle, and the wood-framed entrance groans open. Your knees feel weak, and your chest feels light all of a sudden – struggling still to process what had happened, but grinning from ear to ear.
“Take care, senpai.”
“See you later, my love.”
You realize shortly thereafter, as the heavy doors close behind you, that this is the second time Kalim has called you his – though it surely won’t be the last.
Captain! HardDom!Law / Crew!Reader
Pairing: Trafalgar D. Water Law x Fem!Reader (No use of y/n)
Summary: You and your Captain have been imprisoned. Law has been injected with some kind of drug and you're shackled to the wall. Your crew is on the way, but if Law's fever doesn't break, he won't last before they get here.
CW: Sex Pollen (But its a drug- Law Knows), DubCon, Medical Terminology, Restrained (F), Blood (Law's), Dirty Talk, Fingering (F Rec), Spit (F Rec), Creampie, Dick tattoos cause i like them, Confessing Feelings, Unspoken Feelings
ANGST, Law is remoresful. Considers Erasing Reader's Memory of the Event DD:DNE
Word Count: 3.8k
Stayed up past my bedtime for this one, but wowie I was not sleeping until I got it out of my system (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝)
➽──────────────❥
Law understands his body more than most people do. He is intimately familiar with the precise working of himself down the atom. He can tell you his exact molecular composition and the count of his blood at the drop of a hat. He has taken himself apart and examined his own organs from the inside out. He knows his body. He knows it well. Better than any doctor had ever known themselves.
So he knew something was wrong. He clocked the change nearly the exact moment it occurred. The rise of his temperature, the quickened pulse, and the fog descending across his thoughts. The symptoms worked dangerously fast, but it wasn’t until he felt the flood of testosterone and the rapid escalation of adrenaline that it all clicked into place just what exactly he had been dosed with.
“Captain?”
His power could remedy this without issue.
If he was able use it.
“Captain?”
But he is locked in sea prism stone prison, the metal draining him of all ability. It also lowers the baseline levels of his energy, which means the drug tearing through his system all that more potently.
“Captain!” Finally, Law’s gaze snaps to you. “What’s happening?” Your eyes are wide with concern, completely unaware that you are the one in the most danger here.
It hadn’t made sense to him at first. They’d tossed you both into this cell, but you were the only one chained to the wall. But, now- he understood completely. It was part of the torment. A cruel, vicious sort of torture, forcing a betrayal so pervasive between captives. Law hated to admit it, but it was a disgustingly effective sort of torture to force the wedge between Captain and Crew.
Your chains rattle as you try to make even the smallest bit of headway in freeing yourself. You have to get your Captain out of this cage. Whatever they have given him is making him seriously sick and without his power you weren’t sure if he’d be okay. Let alone survive long enough for the rest of the crew to find you.
Law barks your name in a tone that immediately halts your movements. “I need you to be quiet and be still.” You do as he says without question. You trust your Captain completely. Regardless of how worried you are, you have to believe he has a plan- or is working on one. Your Captain is the smartest man you’d ever met and you know there is nothing he can't figure out. You just hope he figures it out before whatever is wrong with him gets worse.
Law sits with his back to you, knees to his chest, head pressed into them. His hands cover his ears. Trying to make his body small, to block out as many of his senses as he can. He tries to breathe as little as possible. The position is slowing the effects of the poison, but it is so minuscule his rational mind tells him it won’t make a difference. Law grits his teeth in frustration, running equations through his head- trying to figure out if he could sus the exact composition of the drug coursing through his body.
You scan your eyes over the the cell, looking for something- anything- that could help. But you come up just as empty as you have for the past hour. It’s dark here, the only light comes from the fire lit sconces in the hall. There’s a drip drip drip from somewhere, but you don’t see a leak. You observe your surroundings the way Law taught you to. Pick an object and pick it apart, then move to the next and the next.
The bars were too small to fit through. The biggest structural weakness of any cell was the door so you pick apart the hinges and the keyhole. The scrape on the floor from years of being open and shut. But, nothing particularly jumps out at you.
The cell is small, sea prism lines both the walls and the floors. There is only the one set of shackles in the room, but it's odd that they chained you up instead of your Captain- when he so clearly is the greater threat between you. You figure it must mean they’re confident that whatever they dosed him with will keep him docile- or worse.
You take a deep, shuddering breath. The air here is so hot and humid, it's hard to breath in for the full ten-count your Captain would always remind you to do. The crew knows where you are- or where you were going- and they know what the plan is. You were both supposed to be back by now. They have your vivre cards. Undoubtedly, they were on their way here right this very second to save you both. You had complete, unshakable faith in your crew. They would come. They would find you.
The only thing that worried you was if your Captain would be okay until they got here from the whole other side of the island.
There was a soft clink of your chains as you slightly shifted and Law groans. His intoxicated mind already whispering devious madness in his ears. Telling him how close you are. How helpless. All chained up with no way to run from what he wanted to do to you.
Law growls in frustration, pressing his hands harder against his ears as if it could keep out his inside thoughts. Even sans the sound of your voice, his body was still reacting to your proximity. You’re as far apart from each other as you can be in the cell, but it wasn’t enough. He can feel your presence at his back. So close, so alluring. And as his senses keep heightening- he can smell you. The sweat on your skin, the scent of your sex that hadn’t yet slicked for him.
Law bites down hard on his tongue, trying to stifle the way his mind is thinking- using the pain to overwrite the receptors of sensation. But, it doesn’t help. The drug has bonded to him so completely it’s shutting out any stimulus that doesn’t align with his baser biological need. If anything, the taste of his own blood only spurs it on. Violence and arousal often stimulated similar regions of the brain. The drug was amping up his animalistic urges across the spectrum. The angrier he became, the more aroused he became. The more aroused he became, the more aggressive he became. Unless he could get the fever under control they would just keep feeding into each other.
But it was near impossible to do that when your presence alone hitched it higher. And his rational mind- what was left of it- was vaguely aware that the one thing that was going to bring the fever down before it killed him was the one thing he was determined not to suscept you to.
“Bring your knees to your chest,” he grinds out, “make your body as small as possible.” You don’t respond, but he knows you’ve done exactly as he ordered. You’re always so obedient for him. The new position muffles your scent, but not by much. It buys him maybe a couple extra minutes of rationality. But he’s torn on what exactly to do with it. He can’t see any way out of this and he won’t be able to prevent what’s about to happen.
“Listen,” he says, voice deepening, “the drug they gave me- it’s making me sick. Really sick.”
“Captain,” your voice washes over him and his cock jumps. “Tell me what to do,” your voice is desperate, but willing. You’ll do anything he tells you. You always do. Always so well behaved.
“The fever is going to kill me,” he states plainly and its the truth. He can’t think of any way to prevent it here- in this cell. At least, not any way that doesn’t involve giving into what his body wants to do to you.
“No!” There’s a sharp rattle as you press as far forward as you can. “No, Captain! I’ll get us out of here. The carpometacarpal, right? I think I can crush it if I-“
“Don’t,” he barks.
“I’m not going to let you die,” you snap, chains rattling. Law turns around to see you trying to maneuver into a position to break your hands. He quickly moves across the room and grabs your arms, halting your attempts.
You gasp, “Captain… you’re burning up.” His hands are hot were he has them wrapped around you. There's heat radiating off him and it rushes towards you like a fire licking at your skin. “Captain,” you plead, “what do we do? Tell me, please.” His eyes are fixed where your arm is trapped in his grip and they’re dark- nearly pitch black.
Your eyes follow his gaze where his burning hand has you in a vice grip and you think you must know the dilemma he’s grappling with. You don't. “Break it,” you tell him and his eyes snap to yours. “If you have to break it, do it. I can take it.” You keep your face even, trying to convince him of your resolute bravery, but he feels the way your pulse quickens in apprehension.
“You can take it, hm?” A wicked grin slices across face, “you’ll just take anything I give you, won’t you?”
You blink, brows furrowing at his words. That adorable little crease between your eyes pulls him back from the edge- just a little. He rips his hands off you. “Don’t break anything,” he rattles. “It won’t help.”
“Then what will,” you beg. Your eyes start to glisten and theres a tremble to your lip he wants to suck between his teeth. “Captain, please. Please.”
Law groans, cock twitching at the sound of your begging. He places a hand against the wall beside your head, keeping you caged. Not that you could go anywhere. Not that you could get away from him.
“The drug is a kind of stimulant. The fever increases neurotransmitter activity, amplifying base hormones that require a counterbalance to-“
“Law,” you interrupt his rambling, “what do you need?”
“I need to fuck you.” Your mouth drops, reeling back- completely caught off guard by his response. But you know he’s deathly serious. “I am going to fuck you.” His voice is gravely, thick and trembles with remorse, “I won’t be able to stop myself.”
He looks straight at you and you watch as the darkness eats away at the gorgeous golden dawn of his eyes. Before it’s gone you have to tell him- he has to know- “It’s okay, Captain. It’s okay. You can do it, whatever you need.”
His face crumples and drops to the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and he nuzzles into you for a just a moment before you feel it. The shift. A change to the atmosphere, a change to the way he touches you.
He laughs darkly against your throat, “whatever I need, hm?” he drags his teeth up and nips at your jaw, “and if I need to spread you open and drive my cock into your little cunt?”
Your breath hitches and his hot fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Answer me,” he orders.
“Y-yes,” you answer.
“Yes, what?” he snarls.
“Yes, Captain.”
His grin is satisfied as he drags his thumb across your lips. “Say it,” he urges. Blush blooms across your face and you avert your eyes. He snaps your name, “you will look at your Captain when you speak to him.” He leans in, tongue barely flitting over your lips as he hisses once more, “Now say it.”
“Y-you can have…” you lips tremble, “you can have your way with me, Captain.”
Law slams his hand into the stone by your head, making you yelp. “That is not what I said.” He tilts his head, “you’re being a bad girl, not listening to your Captain.”
Your tongue darts over your lips and his slides out to mirror you. “I’m sorry, Captain.”
“Try again.”
You swallow, trying not to look away from him as you repeat his filthy words, “you can spread me open, Captain. You can drive your-” you stutter just a little, “y-your cock into my little cunt.”
He smiles at you, fingers brushing your cheek. “Good girl.” His face softens as he caresses you, “always my good girl…” Your heart flips and he cocks a brow, leaning forward to look into your eyes. “You like that, don’t you? You like being Captain's good girl.” There’s a fluttering low in your tummy and Law grins- watching how your pupils dilate. “Oh, you like it a lot.”
He leans back on his knees, letting his eyes roam over your restrained body. “But I already knew that.” Law shrugs his jacket off his shoulders. “So tell me something-” he peels his shirt off his back, “-that I don’t know.”
Despite yourself, your eyes roam over your Captain's body, trailing the lines of his tattoos drawn through the ridges of his muscle. Despite how decorated his skin is, he so rarely shows it. “I…” you snap your eyes back up to his, “I like to look at you.”
He shakes his head, shoulders shaking as he laughs, “you think I don’t know that?” Embarrassed heat flushes through you. “You think I don’t see the way you watch me? You think I don’t let you watch?” His grin turns devious, “tell me what you do to yourself when you think about me.” You stammer, while Law’s hands start undoing his pants. “Go on.”
“I…” your thighs press together as you confess in a small voice, “I touch myself.”
“What?” he teases with a tilt of his head, “Can’t hear you.”
Your heart thumps wildly, “I touch myself when I think of you, Captain.”
Your Captain leans forward and fists the fabric of your shirt- and your bra with it. “I know,” he shrugs- then rips in one strong motion, tearing your clothes away.
You gasp, unable to cover yourself with your hands chained to the wall. “C-captain!” Despite that, you still yank on the restraints as if it would make a difference. Law’s cock twitches watching you struggle and he slides his pants over his knees, finally leting it fall free.
Your eyes snap to his cock, mouth falling open. “Now you have something new to look at,” his tone is arrogant, enjoying the way you take him in. Your eyes trace the tattoos striping over his low waist to wind around his cock. His hand rubs up the underside of his shaft and it jerks against his touch, precum oozing from his slit. “You gonna think about this when you touch yourself?”
“Yes, Captain.”
He chuckles, “good girl. So honest.” Law slides forward and grabs the waist of your shorts, yanking them down over your curves and tossing them to the side with the rest of your ruined clothes. You’re completely naked for him now, strung up and exposed.
You squeeze your legs together, pulling your knees up, trying to instinctually preserve a bit of your modesty. Your Captain continues stroking his cock as he looks at you. “Spread your knees.” You bite your lip with a whimper. “That’s an order.” You move them apart a touch. “Wider.” A little bit wider.
Law growls grabbing both knees and throwing them apart, pinning them back against the wall, where you leave them as he leans back to admire the sight. “Why are you trying to hide from me, hm? Are you embarrassed?” You cry out when he suddenly sticks a finger into you and drags it up through your slit. He inspects it with a grin before holding it out to you. “Embarrassed by how wet you are?” He brings the finger back and sticks it into his mouth, moan from the taste of you dropping deeper when he sees your cunt squeeze around nothing.
“Yes, Captain,” you answer.
He pulls his finger from his mouth with a pop and hauls your hips up into his lap. Your fingers tighten around your chains as his fingers spread you open. You gasp as he rubs his tumbs to either side of your clit, head tilting back with a moan.
Law uses his thumbs to stimulate your clit in ways you’ve never felt before while his knuckles spread your dripping cunt. “You like this? That’s the root of your clit,” his voice slips back into a familiar instructional tone. “When I press like this,” you cry out, hips bucking into his hands. “Enhances sensitivity, by increasing the blood flow there…” He’s so focused on perfecting the technique of it on your body it almost feels like he’s himself again-
He spits on your clit, making your body jerk. “Get it nice and swollen,” he chuckles as if he’s amused with himself, “you’re gonna cum so fucking hard on my cock.” Your pussy clenches around the points of Law’s knuckles where he keeps stretching your hole open.
He looks up at you, hands not stopping. “You still haven’t told me something I don’t know.”
He hums when your brow furrows, searching your mind for something you could offer him. “Y-you gave me your hoodie when we were on the Kazen Islands…”
“Mhm.”
“I still have it.”
“I kno-“
“I sleep in it, sometimes.” Law's hands slow and his eyes soften at the intimacy of the confession. Despite everything you have been doing, it’s only now that you feel the most vulnerable- the most exposed.
Law wraps your legs around his waist and slides his hands up your body. He leans forward, giving you more slack on the chains and letting your weight rest in his lap. His face nuzzles into your neck, lips pressing into your pulse- his voice is just a breath against it. “You used my shower when the pipes were busted.” Another press of his lips, kissing up your neck- “you left your hair tie on my sink.” You feel the head of his cock slide easily into you Law kisses the hollow of your ear, “I keep it in my nightstand.”
His hips press forward and he lets you feel every inch of his cock as slides home. You groan deeply, legs tightening around him. Your hands instinctively try to wrap around his body, but are stopped by the chains. “Captain~” you moan. He thrusts into you, deep and steady, his arm keeping your back from hitting the jagged stone.
His other hand finds its way between your bodies, pressing into your clit. It’s just as sensitive as he promised it would be. He circles his fingers atop your bud, still wet with your slick and his spit. He slowly increases the pressure and his hips pick up speed.
The ground splits the skin of Law’s knees, but the sting of it is drowned out by how deliciously your body takes him, squeezing him deeper. He holds you tighter, lifting a little higher to keep your wrists slack. Even in his state, sapped of his natural energy, he could do this. For you- his pretty girl, so soft- he wasn’t putting you on the ground. He knows at his pace the stone would scrape you up and the only marks that belong on your body are his.
Law's mouth returns to the pulse at your throat and sucks, his tongue darting over the sensitive flesh. His fingers press into your clit faster now- relentless- desperate for the sweet clench of your body.
“Captain…” you moan, “I’m… I’m getting close.”
His mouth parts from your flesh with a stand with a strand drool, “Good girl. Need you to cum on your Captain’s cock.” His fingers roll faster over your clit, near vibrating and you tilt your head back.
“Yes, I’m gonna- Captain, I’m…”
Law plows himself into you, snarling through his teeth- desperately holding on until he feels that first squeeze of your orgasm. “Say my name, baby. Say my name.”
“Law-!“ his name breaks over your tongue as you cum and Law arches his back as he spurts into you.
“Fuuck,” he groans, jerking his hips to milk every drop into you, “so fucking tight.”
Your body convulses as you come down from your high and Law scoots knees to the wall so you can sit in his lap. He wraps both arms around your back to keep you off the stone. You still can’t put your arms around him, but you drop your head into the crook of his neck, still in the aftershock of your orgasm.
Your breaths are shallowing, gasping for air and his fever begins to recede, the fog just barely starting to lift. He tightens his hold on you as he feels your lips tremble against his skin, “Captain…”
“Shhh…” he soothes. “I’m here, I got you. Captain’s got you.”
Your body grows heavy, the exhaustion of your circumstances finally settling over you.
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You’re still sleeping in Law’s arms an hour later. You’re dressed now, though. He put your shorts back on and slid his shirt up your legs, tying the arms around your back to keep it from slipping down- and he’s back in his pants and his jacket. He used the ruined scraps of your clothes to clean you of himself and you barely stirred.
He holds you close to the wall, easing the tension from your restraints. He can see the raw red skin beneath the shackles and his chest twists he caused some of it. He was too rough with you- far too rough. And though he knows you’re going to forgive him for it, he hates that your first time together is so tainted. He’d spent so long imaging how it could go- how it would go, one day- and this was not even a shadow of what you deserved.
He would have to make it up to you- somehow.
Or, maybe he’d have to make you forget.
He can do that once his power returns. And maybe he should. He has no idea how you will look at him now- and if he will survive it. Part of him wishes he’d just let the fever take him instead. But, you never would have let that happen. You were ready to shatter your own body just to be next to him in a cell neither of you could escape from.
He can feel the shudder through the stones and hear the commotion floors above that tells him the crew has arrived. He never had any doubt they would.
And even though you wake when the cell is pried open and your cuffs are removed, Law still carries you all the way home.
i "forgot" to say i love you...with jamil and jade!
synopsis: will this prank work on your boyfriend? ...let's see about that...! (it sure is a cute effort!!)
tags: established relationship, fluff n def not as sad as the title suggests lol, pretend jamil has his own dorm room xd, jade really got the heart eyes for you here I Guess...
wc: 900 something for snek & 1,000 something for fih
hi to my first work on tumblr...revealing my baby TO THE WORLD!!! #yolo
“Hey, be a bit more gentle, will you?”
“Sorry. I got carried away…your hair is just so long and pretty, hehe.”
Doing Jamil’s hair care had become a weekly routine between the both of you. It just happened one day while you were bored, lounging on his bed. After seeing him come back from the washrooms, you asked him all about his hair routine – which has now led him to sit in between your legs while you apply his hair oil.
The night usually ends with you sleeping in his arms, but you decided to play a prank on your (seemingly) unsuspecting, sleepy boyfriend while his guard was down. After all, he was too perceptive in his usual state, so you don’t think you could pull it off then…
After sifting a comb through his hair to clear out any knots, you set it down and stroke his hair one last time before getting up. Thinking you were both about to head to sleep, Jamil looks up at you, confused. “Where are you going, baby? Washroom?”
You fight back the smile threatening to appear on your face and maintain a neutral look, eyes meeting Jamil’s inquisitive ones, “Hm, no. I think I’m gonna head back to my dorm tonight.” Jamil cocks one eyebrow, but sighs, “It’s late. I’ll walk you to your dorm." Huh, that was easier than you thought. Still, you’re mildly disappointed that he accepted your excuse so quickly…
Nonetheless, you move on to the second phase of your plan! “No, it’s alright, I’ll call you if I need anything.” You move to gather your things, and slowly move to the door, waiting for his response. Looking from where he’s lying on his bed, “If you wish. I’ll see you tomorrow then.”
You set your hand on the doorknob, and bid him goodbye one last time, “Okay, I’m off Jamil!”
“Mm, take care. Quiet on your way out, you might wake Kalim.” He stands up from the floor to move to his bed, getting himself ready to sleep. However, you aren’t satisfied with his response, because you couldn’t even execute the last part of your prank! “Jamil, I’m going now.”
“Are you forgetting something?” Oh, is he falling for your bait? You turn around and meet his eyes once again, “No, I think I have everything I need.” Despite your words, Jamil switches his gaze to his table, where your phone is lying. “You have no more need for your phone then?” He smirks, amused by your forgetfulness. You, on the other hand, are utterly…flabbergasted. No way I actually forgot something?? So he didn’t fall for anything then???
You still make an effort to look composed, but Jamil notices how red the tips of your ears are getting, “Ah, that, I didn’t need it, but thanks for reminding me.” He chuckles at your indifference, “So, how were you planning to ‘call me if you needed anything?’ Did you plan to send me a message by pigeon?” Jamil smirks at you teasingly, his handsome features making your heart skip a beat…but no! You mustn't lose sight of your goal!
“Aha! I was just testing you, you know…” you walk over to grab your phone from his desk, “Okay, I’m going for real this time. See you tomorrow Jamil!” You send him a little wave bye, before facing the door yet again. “Be safe, see you.” This is the third time he’s telling you goodbye, and his usual “I love you” is missing. Pranks aside, you feel like you’re the one getting tricked because he genuinely just forgot to say it three times…or so you think.
Deciding to give up on teasing your boyfriend, you fold, saying, “‘Kay see you, I love you Jamil!”
“Yes, sleep well. Don’t run into trouble on your way out.”
“Mhm, love you~.“
This time, he doesn’t say anything, and only hums in response. Now you just feel like you played yourself. You’ve already said it, so why isn’t he saying it back!
“Jamil, why aren’t you saying it back?” You walk to stand in front of where he’s lying on his bed. Your boyfriend sits up, his face holding a neutral expression. However…you notice a mischievous glint in his eyes when he speaks, “Hm? Say what back, baby?”
Ugh, he knows!
“How did you find out?! I literally just thought of pranking you minutes ago, right before I faked my exit!!” Exasperated, you violently sit yourself at the edge of his bend, arms crossed. Jamil is tempted to push your buttons a bit more, but decides to end this. “Prefect, I knew the moment you stood up that you were up no good. Might I remind you that you have no choice but to sleep here, since Grim blew up Ramshackle the other day?” Thanks to your blue-flamed cat, Ramshackle had to be closed down for repairs for a few days, and Jamil offered his room for you to stay in for the time being…so…how’d you overlook that vital fact again?
“Blah, blah, just say you don’t love me anymore!” You huff, move your head away from him in an over-the-top manner, playing up the theatrics to cover up your embarrassment. When you peak an eye out to look at him, he’s already sitting next to you. “Don’t act angry with me now, you started this. Now that you’ve had your fun, let’s go to bed, hmm?”
You look away, continuing to ignore him, but the hand on your chin forces you to meet his gaze again. He sighs, clearly tired from the day's events, but still chooses to indulge you, “Won’t you come to bed now, baby? I love you~” he teases, crooning into your ear.
Hm. You can always try pranking him next time if it ends like this.
You: Jade, are u there?
I wanna make truffle pasta, do u have extra?
Jade: Hello, Prefect.
It appears I do have some at hand.
If you’re free, I can drop by your dorm and give it to you tonight.
You: YAY
You’re a lifesaver Jade!!
Jade: Fufu, it is no problem, my dear.
I’ll see you later, I love you ~
Seeing his last reply, an idea pops into your head. It’s rare for him to tell you he loves you in words, but the opportunity to prank him has already presented itself…is it so wrong to plot against the master schemer?
You close your phone and begin prepping the ingredients to cook the dish. Unbeknownst to you, your phone buzzes.
Jade: Prefect?
It’s unusual for you to leave him hanging, seeing as you usually return his affections without another thought. It‘s no matter, Jade thinks, if you’ve forgotten, he’ll just have to get a response from you in person.
He smiles to himself, thinking of the adorable expression you make whenever you tell him you love him. He finds that he looks forward to hearing it from you again.
At the appointed time, Jade prepares the mushrooms and makes his way to Ramshackle dorm, unaware of the little scheme you’ve made against him…
Your plan was simple, pretend to forget to tell Jade “I love you,” and act clueless towards his affections. It shouldn’t be too difficult if you set your mind to it, you’ll just have to somehow muster the resolve to defend yourself from his attacks…(read: one pout from your eel and you fold).
Hearing him knock on your door, you welcome him in as usual, “Jade! Thank you again for the mushrooms–I can try a new recipe now, hehe.” Seeing as he makes no move to come in or be on his way, you tell him, “Well, I’m sure you’re busy, so I’ll see you later.” You stand on your tiptoes to plant a kiss to his cheek, leaving him stunned.
Eyes wide open, Jade composes himself and sets a hand to his chin. “My, Prefect, you’re acting rather bold this evening. However, there is one thing you’re forgetting,” he muses, taking a step towards Ramshackle’s lounge. “It seems you’ve left our last exchange…unfinished.”
Smiling to yourself, you look at him with innocent eyes, “Hm? Is there something I missed? I’m sorry, I got caught up with cooking the pasta…”
“It is quite alright, it only presents me an opportunity to hear it from you now, fufu.” Jade hides behind his hand as he chuckles, looking at you expectantly. You didn’t expect him to be so direct, but that’s Azul’s right hand for you, you guess. “Hear what exactly? Do you want me to sing you something? Lalalalala–” you begin, but your boyfriend quickly presses a finger to your mouth.
“Oh, how you wound me, my dear. It seems that you haven’t picked up your phone, I presume?” He takes a step closer toward you, “I love you, dear Prefect~.”
“Aw Jade, that’s so sweet of you!” you smile, moving away and entering the kitchen, “I’m not sure what you want, but would you like to cook with me tonight?” you offer, placing the mushrooms on the counter.
Somehow, Jade winds up at your side, acting as your sous chef for the evening. Using his skills from managing Mostro Lounge, you find that the truffle pasta is done without a hitch. Setting the food on the table, the both of you sit down to enjoy your masterpiece. However, by the way he’s looking at you, it seems like this eel still wants something…
“Prefect, wouldn’t you say that we’ve done quite a wonderful job this time? I myself am looking forward to tasting the fruits of our efforts. Don’t you think so?”
“I know, this looks so good!” you twirl your pasta around your fork and feed it to Jade, “Here, try some!” Used to your antics, your eel opens his mouth to try the dish.
“Mm, I might have to tell Azul to add this to Mostro Lounge’s menu, fufu. As always, I do love your cooking, Prefect.”
“Hehe, I’m just glad you like it!”
“I must say, I also love the way you look tonight. I find you in your loungewear utterly adorable.” You don’t know how he’s saying this was a straight face, but it makes your heart race a little…
“And Prefect,” he adds, “I do have an appreciation for your skill. It seems I find myself falling in love with you more after this evening.”
You respond with a very elegant,
“AHAK–” choking on your pasta, you look up to see Jade smiling down at you, leaning on his palm. Why is he being so honest this evening, did Azul make him drink a truth potion?!
He gently pats down on your back, handing you a glass of water, “My dear, are you quite alright? I apologize if I have burdened you with my confessions…I just simply love you, is all.” He makes an apparent effort to look pitiful, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes downcast, but you know better than to believe his act.
Gulping down the glass of water he offered you, you breathe out, “Jade? Is there something you want to tell me?” you meet him in the eyes, and he smiles at you politely, “Why are you being so sappy all of a sudden?”
His eyes crinkle up in amusement, “Oh, it’s nothing, my dear. It just seems that you’ve been forgetting something this whole time…”
The jig is up, you think. Admitting defeat (or victory, seeing as how far you pushed him?), you sigh out, “Okay, okay. I love you too, Jade.” Hearing your words, his face visibly lights up, his smile widening by 0.676767 millimeters.
“Well I’m glad to hear that you still return my affections, Prefect,” he takes an obvious glance at the lounge’s grandfather clock and sees that it’s already half past ten, “It seems that I may have overstayed my welcome, I believe I should be on my way.” Standing from his seat, he smoothens out his uniform and gives you a little bow, “I shall see you tomorrow, my dear.”
So, this whole time…Jade was stalling long enough to hear you say “I love you” back? And successfully baited you into it as well?!
No fair…well, at least you know how desperate he is to hear those words from you, despite how collected he seems on the outside.
Before he takes a step out of the lounge, you wrap your arms around his middle, “Jade, you always tell me this, but between the two of us, you’re the one who’s cuter here~”
“I have no idea what you’re referring to, my dear,” Jade turns to you and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “Goodnight, I look forward to seeing you in the morning,” he smiles. He opens your door and makes his way back to Octavinelle.
As soon as he steps out of your gate, however, his phone lights up. He looks at it to see a message from you:
I was just kidding the whole time, I love you too Jade!
also it's like one of the first things i've ever written kinda just wrote this and threw it to the wind #hope it makes sense (i made one for riddle too but lowk wasn't Feeling it but if u would like to see Lmk ty gang... muwhahha
Good choice! Always loved the feral breeding kink!
Werewolf Luffy!🎃
“Babyyyy…Wanna…have m’lil puppies w’ya…” Luffy whimpered out against your body as he stared down at you, his weight a bit heavy as he rested up against your back. You exhaled heavily and moaned out in ecstasy as you felt his cock sliding deep inside of your soaking pussy.
Your arms held on tight to your pillow as soft moans left your lips, your brows furling as you felt his girth stretching your cunt open. Luffy whimpers once more and rests his head against the back of your shoulder, his tail wagging a bit as he felt your velvety was sucking him deep inside.
A gasp leaves your lips as you felt him lapping against your skin, giving your body sloppy smooches while he begged to be the one to impregnate you with his pups.
“Please baby…Wanna fill ya up w’my puppies~ W-Wanna make ya a momma…” He pleaded desperately, his hips thrusting softly yet deeply up into your cunt while soft moans left his throat. You huff out heavily and buried your face within your pillow, the feeling of Luffy’s dick buried deep inside of your cunt making your body yearn for more.
“L-Luffy…”
“Babyyy…W-Wanna make us a momma and daddy~”
A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you finally give in to his begging, your pussy sucking his length in even more while his whimpers began to turn you on more.
.ᐟwarnings/tags: slow burn, gaming buddies, video game terms, texting, sexting, soft dom!heeseung, shy!reader, mutual masturbation, dirty talk, pet names (princess, baby), praising, dry humping, oral (f & m rec), cum eating, unprotected sex, p in v, confessing, reader is down bad for heeseung, fluff
𓏸⠀ 𓈒 you started as friends who played games at night—now he’s the one making you moan into his pillow.
.ᐟwc: 15.9k (no proofread)
It’s been a year since Heeseung joined the friend group. Some random guy Jungwon brought into the server one night for a last-minute League match, and who never really left. Every night like clockwork, your group piles into Discord: Valorant, League of Legends, horror co-ops that get you all screaming in sync. Most nights end in swearing, laughing, or someone rage quitting, usually Heeseung, and sometimes everyone. He’s sharp-tongued, quick-witted, and stupidly good at every game he touches. A little cocky, kind of a menace, and unfortunately for you, exactly your type.
You’ve had a crush on him almost as long as you’ve known him. Actually no, you’ve been in love with him, not that he’d ever guess. Or maybe he would. He teases you like he knows you’ll blush, throws in little pet names and innuendos like he’s testing you for a reaction. But you always brush it off as just another part of the bit. You’re just the girl he likes to mess with during late-night ranked queues. It doesn’t mean anything. Even if your heart does this weird flutter thing whenever he says your name.
“Where’s my duo?” you ask the second you join voice chat, headset sliding over your ears. “You bitches better not have started without me.” A chorus of greetings erupts, Jay, Sunghoon, Jungwon, and two others you recognize from another Discord server. Everyone’s already in the Valorant lobby, bouncing around agents and bantering over voice chat. “Calm down,” Sunghoon laughs. “You’re only, like, twenty minutes late.” You correct him, “Fashionably.” Then his voice comes through. Lazier, deeper, more smug than usual. “Nice of you to show up, princess.” You roll your eyes even as your stomach flutters. “Sorry, didn’t realize I had to run my schedule by you.” you shoot back. Heeseung hums in your ear like he’s unbothered. “You do when you keep dodging games just to avoid being carried.” You scoff. “Carried? Please. You’re always the first to die.” Jay cuts in, laughing. “Here we go again.” It’s always like this, bickering that toes the line between hostile and flirtatious, drawing amused reactions from everyone else in the group. It’s part of the rhythm now. You give Heeseung shit, he throws it right back, and everyone else acts like it’s some kind of soap opera they’ve been watching for seasons. “Bet she top frags this round.” Jungwon says, grinning. “She won’t,” Heeseung says at the exact same time. Then adds, “If she does, it’s because I softened them up first.”
“Oh my god,” you groan, snorting a laugh. “Cope harder.” You lock in Clove. Heeseung picks Jett. Predictable. The match loads in, and everyone starts joking over vc while you check your loadout. Your team takes the first site, and somehow the round is over in seconds, three clean shots from you, one assist, and Heeseung’s kill coming in dead last. “Damn, she’s actually carrying.” Jay says with mock awe. “Say thank you.” you say sweetly. “Thank you, queen.” Then someone else, a guy you vaguely know named Kai, who’s only been playing with the group for a week or two, speaks up. “Carry me again like that and I’ll eat your pussy, mama.” You freeze for half a second, just long enough for your brain to register what he said, and then you giggle. Not because you’re actually into it, but because it’s so fucking unhinged. “Yeah?” you say, leaning into the joke. “Say less.” The whole call erupts in laughter. “Bro.” Jay wheezes.“You’re wild for that.” Sunghoon says.
“Don’t test me.” Kai says again, voice still flirty. And then Heeseung speaks. Calm. Too calm. “Jesus Christ, can you not be a pain in the ass for, like, one game?” The laughter stops for a second. You glance at the chat window instinctively, it’s like the air shifted. He didn’t sound like he was joking. Kai lets out an awkward laugh. “Relax, man. It’s a joke.” Heeseung hums, dry. “Then try making a funny one.” It goes quiet again, not dead silence, but that weird kind of pause where everyone’s pretending not to notice the tension. You hear someone’s keyboard clack in the background. In-game footsteps echo in your ears. “You good, Hee?” You speak up carefully. “I’m great,” he says, “Just bored of hearing you flirt with losers.” Your heart stutters. That one didn’t sound like a joke either. Even Jay seems caught off guard. “Yo, that sounded personal.” “It’s not,” Heeseung says immediately. Too quickly. “Let’s just win the round.”
And he does exactly that, goes full sweat mode for the rest of the match. Dashes into sites solo, gets two aces in a row, doesn’t speak unless it’s a callout. The rest of the group fills the silence with jokes and teasing, but you don’t miss the shift. Heeseung always plays aggressive, but tonight it feels pointed. Like he’s got something to prove. To you. Or to someone else, you’re not sure, but your stomach is buzzing.
The match ends with a win, somehow, Heeseung top frags, of course, and Kai logs off without saying goodbye. The group starts leaving one by one. “Alright, I’m out.” Sunghoon yawns. “GGs.” “Same.” Jay says. “I can’t feel my eyes.” “Goodnight, lovebirds.” Jungwon mutters under his breath before he leaves. You scoff. “Shut up.” Heeseung doesn’t say anything. Eventually, it’s just the two of you. Still in voice chat. The lobby music looping softly in the background. You think about leaving, but your hand hovers over the disconnect button and never quite clicks. Heeseung exhales. You hear the soft creak of his chair. Then, “How come you’re not leaving?” You blink at your screen. His voice is different now, low and quiet, not teasing. “I don’t know,” you say. “Didn’t want to so early.” He hums. “Guess that means I scared everyone off.” You smile faintly, chewing on your lip. “You kinda went off on that guy.”
He doesn’t respond immediately. “Yeah. I didn’t like what he said.” You tilt your head. “Because it was gross or…?” There’s a pause. “Because it was you.” he says.vYour breath catches. You wish you could see his face, but all you have is the green ring around his icon lighting up. “…Oh.” Another pause. It stretches long enough to border on awkward, until he cuts the silence with a sudden, dry little mutter, “God, don’t make me say something corny at 3AM. I’ll literally throw myself out the window.” You laugh, soft and surprised. “There it is,” he says, pleased. “I was waiting for that.” You raise a brow. “For what?” you ask. “You always laugh like that when you’re trying not to.” You protest, “i do not.” But your voice is too light, too amused to sound serious. “You do,” he says, and you can hear the grin behind his words. “It’s cute.” Your stomach flips. “Are you flirting with me, Heeseung?” you ask, trying to make it sound like a joke, but it comes out breathy, shy. He lets out a soft laugh. “I don’t know. Are you gonna flirt back this time or just ignore it like always?” You go quiet. Then, “You notice that?”
“Course I notice that,” he says. “I notice everything when it comes to you.” Your cheeks go warm. You look away from your screen, heart thudding stupidly. “…You’re not as smooth as you think,” you mumble. He yawns, loud, exaggerated. “Mmm. Still made you laugh. Still made you stay in call.” You roll your eyes, “You’re impossible.” and smile. “Yeah, but you like me.” You want to say something back. Something playful or clever. But instead, you just go quiet. He doesn’t push. After a beat, he says, softer this time, “You sound tired.” You lean back on your chair. “Mm. Kinda am,” you admit. “But comfy.” “Yeah?” he says. “Stay a little longer?” You nod, forgetting he can’t see you. “Okay.” There’s a long pause where neither of you talk, just the sound of keyboard clicking as he hovers around his screen, maybe checking stats, maybe just filling the silence. Then, quietly, “You know I wasn’t just teasing, right?” Your eyes flick to your monitor. “About what?”
“Earlier. The guy. The flirting.” His voice drops an octave, a little husky now. “I don’t like hearing other guys talk to you like that. Even if it’s a joke.” You don’t answer right away. You’re too busy staring at your screen like it’s going to tell you what to say. “I didn’t think you cared.” you admit. He laughs again, gentler. “I’ve been caring for a while, princess.” Your heart stumbles. You bite your lip. “…I kinda like when you call me that,” you whisper. He hums, satisfied. “I know.” You giggle, sleepy and flustered and way too warm all of a sudden. He lets out a soft sigh, then mutters, “If we were on cam, you’d be blushing, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“That a yes?”
“Shut up, Heeseung.”
He laughs, warm, lazy. “Sleepy girl.”
You giggle softly, cheeks already warm. “You’re so corny, Hee.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “You love it though.” You pause, just a second too long. “Mmm… kinda.” He chuckles, just this soft, fond sound that sinks right into your skin. “Cute.” Your heart skips. You don’t know what to say to that, so you just smile to yourself, suddenly way too aware of how quiet it is now, just you, him, and that little green ring lighting up every time he speaks. Neither of you says much after that. You just sit there in the silence, not awkward, not heavy, just full of something unspoken. Your eyes start to flutter closed. You think you hear him shift in his chair. Maybe yawn. You don’t log off. Neither does he.
It’s almost midnight by the time everyone’s in the lobby again. League this time, ranked. You’ve got your hoodie on, cup of something warm on your desk, legs curled up in your chair. Your screen lights up with everyone’s icons, voices overlapping in Discord. “Why are we doing this to ourselves.” Jay groans as he hovers over his champion. “Because,” you reply sweetly, “we have no self respect.” Then, “Speak for yourself,” Heeseung mutters. “I’m here to carry.” You roll your eyes, “You wish.” smiling already. “Oh my god,” Sunghoon groans. “You two start the exact same way every game.”
“Wait until she dies in lane,” Heeseung says. “Then she’ll blame me like usual.”
“Because you gank at level six like a coward.”
You hear him snort. “Don’t need to gank when you feed their mid laner for me.”
The game loads in. You settle into your rhythm fast, poking, last-hitting, barely listening to the chaos on comms. But every time Heeseung’s voice filters through your headset, you feel it, that lingering buzz from last night. The way he called you cute. The way you didn’t want to leave the call. You don’t know if it meant something. But you feel different now. Every time he says your name, it lands heavier than before. Fifteen minutes in, you’ve got your third kill, and Heeseung’s still climbing his way up in the jungle. You start pushing your lane harder, greedy. “Damn,” Kai says over comms. “She’s actually carrying again?”
“She does that,” Sunghoon says. “Every once in a while.”
Kai laughs. “Shit. If I play support next round, will you reward me, mama?”
You groan, already bracing yourself. “I mean damn,” he adds, “I’d let you leash me any day.”
The call explodes with groans. You groan too, out of habit, “You’re actually insane, dude.”
“You like it,” he says, clearly proud of himself.
You don’t reply, clicking back to lane. You’re not even thinking about it really. Until you hear…nothing. Heeseung’s gone silent. Not muted. Not disconnected. Just quiet. Then your phone buzzes. You glance at it out of instinct, brows furrowing.
Heeseung [12:16am]
tell your little fanboy to chill lol
You glance at the screen, smirking a little. You don’t reply , just keep farming, like your heart isn’t suddenly going crazy.
Buzz.
Heeseung [12:17am]
kinda annoying hearing him talk to u like that tbh
Buzz.
Heeseung [12:17am]
doesn’t even say it right
if anyone’s gonna call you mama it should be me
You choke on your own breath. Your mouse stutters for a second. One of your minions dies.
Buzz.
Heeseung [12:18am]
jk
Buzz.
Heeseung [12:18am]
unless u like it
Your skin is burning. You tuck your phone away without replying, biting back a smile. Across your headset, the match keeps going—Kai’s talking again, but his voice barely registers. You’re not listening to him anymore. You’re only hearing Heeseung. You don’t reply to his messages. Mostly because you don’t trust yourself to. Your fingers are still shaky on the keyboard as the match rolls on. Heeseung’s acting normal again in vc, throwing out short callouts, occasionally bickering with Sunghoon, playing it cool like he didn’t just imply he wants to call you mama.
Your phone buzzes again once, but you ignore it this time. Your lane’s pushing, and your team is moving toward Baron. You focus. You click fast. And when Kai dies again, whining about being “baited,” you’re already ready to kill. You slide in, ult ready, and drop three of them before they can react, smooth, clean, and so fast that Jay literally yells through his mic. “OH MY GOD—okay, she’s cracked tonight.”
“Bro, what was that?” Sunghoon laughs. “Are you sweating?”
You’re already smiling to yourself when you hear it. Low. Offhanded. Just one beat late.
“Good job, baby.”
Everything stops. No one else reacts. But you hear it. Loud and clear. Your brain scrambles. You don’t know if anyone else caught it, maybe he was leaning too close to his mic, maybe it just blended in with the chaos, but your stomach drops. In a good way. In a terrifying way. You go quiet for a few seconds, and then, “…What’d you just call me?” There’s a beat of silence. Then Heeseung’s voice, smooth as ever, “Hm? I said good job.”
You narrow your eyes. “No, you didn’t.”
“Might’ve added something,” he says casually. “You complaining?”
You hate that your face is hot. You hate it more that you smile.
“…You’re annoying,” you mumble, half-giggling.
“Still blushing though.” he replies, grinning into his mic.
Sunghoon: “What did I miss?”
Jay: “I knew something was going on with you two.”
You groan, tugging your hoodie over your mouth. “Play the damn game,” you mutter, but your voice is way too giddy to be taken seriously. And even though everyone goes back to screaming over objectives and team fights, your head’s somewhere else completely. Still stuck on that word. Baby.
It’s the next night. Everyone’s in voice chat again—same group, same vibe. But now you know what he said last time. He knows you heard it. And he hasn’t brought it up since. He’s acting normal again, but you’re not letting him off the hook that easily. The match is halfway through. You’ve just landed a perfect kill steal on Heeseung’s target, claiming the bounty right out from under him. He groans dramatically. “You seriously just took that?” You smirk, leaning into your mic. “Mhm. Had to show off for you, baby.” Silence. Total, absolute, silence.
Jay wheezes. “Wait.”
Sunghoon: “Did she just—?”
You don’t say anything else.
But you can feel Heeseung scrambling on the other side of his headset. He doesn’t speak for a few seconds, which, for him, is a lot. Then he clears his throat. “You trying to start something, princess?” You smile. “Just matching energy.” He lets out a low laugh, little breathless, a little impressed. “Dangerous game,” he mutters. “Careful or I might start taking you seriously.” You tilt your head, pretending to think. “Maybe I want you to.” He doesn’t respond right away. And when he does, his voice is quieter. “…Noted.”
You’re walking behind Heeseung in-game, flashlight beam jittering as you peek into dark hallways. You are playing Phasmaphobia, already regretting letting the boys talk you into this. “Is that—? No, okay, that’s just a shadow.” you mumble, heart racing. Heeseung laughs softly through the mic. “You alright back there?”
“No,” you whisper, sticking close. “Why do you sound so calm?”
“‘Cause I’m brave,” he says casually, like it’s obvious. “You’re the scaredy cat .”
You roll your eyes. “Shut up.”
“You are,” he continues, voice smooth. “Cute though. I like it.”
Your stomach flips. You keep your eyes on the screen, trying to act unfazed. “Not my fault you’re so bad at protecting me.” you murmur. He pauses for half a second.
Then, “Oh, that’s how we’re playing tonight?”
You smile, shy but satisfied. “I didn’t say anything.”
“Mm. You didn’t have to.”
Jay’s voice cuts in on voice chat, “Guys? Where the hell are you two?”
“Clearing the hallway,” Heeseung answers smoothly. “She’s being brave.”
You don’t say anything, but you know he hears your quiet giggle, even through your mic.
It’s almost 3AM when the final round ends. Everyone’s laughing, still on edge from that last chase. Jay’s cackling over some glitch, Sunghoon’s threatening to uninstall the game, and you’re still trying to slow your heartbeat. Then Heeseung’s voice cuts in, calm and lazy through the mic. “Alright, I’m out. I need to shower before I crash.” You blink at your screen, suddenly still. “Damn, it’s that serious?” Jay says, yawning. “Alright, night bro.”
“Night, losers,” Heeseung says with a smirk in his voice. “Later, princess.”
Your stomach flips, but before you can even think of a reply, his little green Discord ring goes gray. Gone. You try not to pout. The call slowly empties, one by one, goodnights echoing into silence until it’s just you. Alone in the lobby, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, still hoping he’d maybe rejoin. But he doesn’t. So you log off too. Toss your headphones aside, get up and do your skincare, brush your teeth, your hair, fluff your pillows. But you don’t feel sleepy yet. You’re scrolling aimlessly on your phone, tucked under your blanket, when it lights up suddenly.
Incoming call: Heeseung
Your breath catches. He’s calling you. At 3:27AM. You stare at it for half a second, then answer. “Hello?” you say, voice soft and a little surprised. “Hey.” His voice is warm, low, a little rough. You can tell he’s laying down too. “I thought you were going to sleep,” you murmur. “I was,” he says, quieter now. “Shower helped, but… I don’t know. Something felt off.” You wait, heartbeat picking up. “Didn’t get to talk to you.” Your lips curve into the softest smile.
“I was waiting for you to stay.”
“I know,” he says. “I wanted to.”
Then there’s a pause, intimate, quiet. “You comfy now?” he asks. “Mhm. Just got in bed.” Another pause. “Wish I could see you.”
You bite your lip. “You’re sweet tonight.” you whisper. He chuckles. “You make me sweet.”
Heeseung’s quiet for a few seconds. Then, casually, “You played good tonight.” You blink, surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Carried my ass a couple times.”
You let out a soft laugh. “I always do.” He chuckles too, low and warm. “You’re not gonna let me be nice, huh?”
“Mm, maybe not.”
There’s a pause, not awkward, just weighted.
“You ever think about playing just us?” he asks, voice a little softer. Your heart stutters. “Like duo by ourselves?” you say quickly, trying to play it cool. He hums. “Something like that.” You bite your lip, smiling into the darkness. “Maybe.” He doesn’t push it. Just lets the silence stretch again. “You sleepy?” he asks gently. You nod, even though he can’t see. “Yeah. You?”
“Mhm.” A beat. “Didn’t wanna sleep without hearing you again.” You go quiet, your heart going crazy. “…You’re sweet,” you whisper. He breathes a little laugh. “Don’t tell anyone.” You smile. “Secret’s safe with me.” There’s one last pause, so full of things neither of you say. Then finally, he says, “Sleep well, princess.”
“Goodnight, Hee.”
He hangs up. But you don’t sleep for a long time.
Discord is chaotic as always—half the team is yelling over each other mid-match, someone’s mic is echoing, and Sunghoon’s pretending to AFK just to piss people off. You’re trying to focus, but your mind’s a little too full of Heeseung. Ever since that late-night call, everything feels shifted. More intense. Every time he talks in call, your chest gets tight. And when his icon lights up just to say your name, it’s worse. “Okay, Saturday—Heeseung’s place?” Jake says. “Yeah, I’m in,” Sunghoon says. “Someone bring snacks.” Then Heeseung, smooth as ever, “You coming, princess?” You blink. Swallow the flutter in your chest. “Uh…yeah. Sure.” you say quickly, trying to sound casual. But barely a beat later, your screen lights up with a DM.
Heeseung [11:45 pm]
u don’t sound excited
Your lips twitch.
You [11:45 pm]
i am
Heeseung [11:46 pm]
lol?
that’s all i get?
You shake your head, smiling to yourself.
You [11:46 pm]
focus on the game hee
There’s a short pause.
Heeseung [11:47 pm]
not when you say my name like that
You bite your lip.
But before you can answer, Heeseung suddenly says in vc, “Yo—who just stole my red buff? I swear to god.” Everyone starts yelling again. The moment breaks, but not completely. It lingers underneath the noise, quiet and warm.
It’s almost 2:30 a.m. when your phone buzzes. You’re curled up in bed, scrolling aimlessly, already half-asleep. The soft glow of your screen lights up your dark room.
Heeseung [2:28 am]
u still up?
You blink at the message, a tiny smile tugging at your lips.
You [2:28 am]
barely
was abt to sleep
Heeseung [2:28 am]
wait
look at this
A photo comes through. It loads slowly, thanks to your shitty Wi-Fi, but when it does, your breath catches. Heeseung, shirtless. Pyjama pants slung low on his hips, just enough to tease, the band of his boxers peeking out. And right in the center of the frame, curled up perfectly in his lap, his small, fluffy kitty, fast asleep.
Heeseung [2:30 am]
isn’t she cute :)
You swallow, staring at the picture a little too long.
You [2:31 am]
so cute
must be comfy there too
The typing bubble appears almost immediately.
Heeseung [2:31 am]
yeah?
u jealous princess?
You grin at your screen, heart racing.
You [2:31 am]
hmm
maybe a lil :3
He doesn’t respond right away. You wonder if you went too far, until your phone vibrates again.
Heeseung [2:33 am]
could make room for u too
You stare at the words, pulse jumping.
You [2:33 am]
bold
Heeseung [2:34 am]
not bold if it’s true
u always look tired after carrying me anyway
You let out a soft laugh, trying to hide the way your cheeks are burning.
You [2:34 am]
i hate u
Heeseung [2:34 am]
no u don’t
you like me too much
You don’t reply right away. Instead, you bite your lip, heart pounding in the quiet dark.
You [2:35 am]
maybe :>
Heeseung [2:35 am]
see you saturday bby
sleep tight
You set your phone down on your chest and stare at the ceiling, grinning like an idiot. No shot you’re sleeping now.
You hadn’t seen Heeseung in two weeks, not in person, at least, but the late-night texts and flirty voice chats had kept him pressed into your mind like a fingerprint. Every time he called you “princess” every teasing message he sent before bed, made you blush behind your screen like some lovesick idiot. So yeah, now that you were about to see him again, you were nervous. Stupidly nervous. You stood in front of your mirror for way too long that afternoon, picking out something cute but not obvious, landing on a short, flowy dress that made you feel pretty. It felt casual enough not to raise eyebrows, but still, you hoped he’d notice. You wanted him to.
You met up with the others at the corner near Heeseung’s place. Everyone was buzzing with energy, talking about what games they’d play, what movies they’d watch, how long they were gonna stay. You tried to laugh along and act normal, but your heart beat louder with every step closer to his house. And then, you were there. One of the guys knocked on Heeseung’s door, you held your breath. A few seconds later, it swung open. He was standing there in a black hoodie and gray sweats, hair a little messy like he’d just run a hand through it before opening up. His eyes skimmed lazily over the group, and then landed on you. They didn’t move for a moment. Neither did yours. “Yo.” one of the others greeted him. Heeseung smirked. “You guys are late.” Then, to you, voice a little quieter, a little warmer, “You coming in, princess?” Your stomach flipped. “Uh, Yeah.” You tried to play it cool, stepping past him like your skin wasn’t already prickling from just hearing his voice up close.
You walk into the apartment, your eyes adjusting to the soft orange glow spilling across the living room. It was warm in there, literally and figuratively, the kind of cozy that made you want to curl into a blanket and never leave. Lamps instead of overhead lights, a couple of pillows tossed lazily across the couch, the faint scent of something like vanilla and laundry detergent lingering in the air. You quietly took a seat on the couch, smoothing your dress under your thighs. The fabric felt short when you sat, but you kept your expression neutral, pretending like you weren’t already hyper-aware of Heeseung moving around behind you. He dropped down into the armchair across from you, spreading his legs slightly, elbows on his knees. The hoodie he wore was unzipped, the edge of a plain white t-shirt barely clinging to his collarbones. He caught your eye for a second, just a second, and gave you a small smile. You looked away first.
The rest of the group slowly filtered into the living room, loud and casual like always. One of them kicked off their shoes and flopped dramatically onto the rug. “So,” someone said, clapping their hands together. “Are we being normal and playing something like Monopoly, or are we ruining friendships tonight with Uno?”
“Uno,” Heeseung said immediately, leaning back in his chair. “No mercy.”
“I’m voting for Mario Kart,” someone else chimed in from the floor. “Get on later and let me kick your ass, Lee.”
“Bro, last time you said that, I fucking stepped on you.”
Laughter erupted across the room. You giggled quietly, tucking your hands into your lap. It was easy being here. Loud, chaotic, but safe, like always. The way it always had been. Except…Except now Heeseung looked at you differently. They eventually settled on starting with a few board games, pushing aside the clutter on the coffee table and pulling out the boxes. Sunghoon opened the food delivery app and started taking orders—half the group wanted ramen, the other half wanted pizza. You stayed mostly quiet, watching it all unfold with a small smile, your knee gently bouncing on the couch. Every now and then, Heeseung’s eyes flicked toward you. When they did, he didn’t look away. He just watched, like he was content to see you sitting there, finally within reach again.
The living room had grown quieter since earlier, the post-game, post-food lull settling into everyone. Someone had queued up a movie, someone sprawled out across the couch and floor with blankets, while the others argued over what snacks were left and who was going to eat them. You slipped away quietly, rising from your seat and heading into the kitchen with an empty soda can in hand. The orange glow from under the cabinets bathed the room in a soft warmth, the hum of the fridge buzzing steadily behind you. You opened it, pretending to look for something, even though you weren’t really hungry. Your heart was beating too fast anyway. You closed the door and turned around, only to find Heeseung standing in the doorway. He wasn’t looking for snacks.
His hands were stuffed casually into the front pocket of his hoodie, his expression unreadable in the dim light. The laughter from the living room felt distant, muffled by the walls between you. He stepped inside slowly, letting the door swing shut behind him. “Been looking at you all night.” he said, voice low. You blinked, caught off guard. “What?” His eyes dropped, just for a second, to your dress—the way it clung softly to your waist before fluttering down your thighs. “That little dress,” he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You wore it for me, didn’t you?” You scoffed softly, trying to hide the way your stomach turned. “Shut up.” He tilted his head, amused. “What? I’m wrong?” You didn’t answer. He stepped closer. Not touching you yet, just close enough that you could smell the fabric softener clinging to his hoodie.
“You look so pretty, princess.” he said gently. Your breath hitched. The nickname sounded different when he said it here, alone, with the world gone quiet around you. No Discord call. No other people. Just him—tall and warm and real in front of you. “You’re gonna make me blush.” you whispered, glancing up at him through your lashes. He smiled. “That’s kind of the point.”
His hand rose slowly, like he didn’t want to startle you, and he touched your cheek. Fingers warm against your skin. You leaned into it without thinking, eyes fluttering shut. And then he kissed you. Soft and slow. Just enough pressure to make your knees feel a little unsteady. He kissed you like he’d wanted to for a while. And you kissed him back. Your hand came up to rest against the curve of his chest, clutching the fabric of his hoodie like you were afraid to let go. His thumb brushed your cheek. You sighed into him, and he pressed his forehead to yours for a second before pulling back slightly.
Before either of you could say anything, a voice echoed faintly from the other room, “I’ll go grab a beer, y’all want something?” You both froze, then stifled a laugh. Heeseung’s hand lingered on your face a moment longer before slipping away. “You should go,” he said quietly, eyes locked on yours. “Before someone comes in here and ruins it.” You smiled, breathless. “Yeah…” But neither of you moved.
You were the first to step back into the living room. No one looked up, the movie was too loud, and everyone else was too busy bickering over what just happened in the plot. You sank back into your spot on the couch, heartbeat still trying to even out, trying to act normal. Like Heeseung’s mouth hadn’t just been on yours. A few seconds later, he came in too, casually, like he’d just gone to the bathroom or gotten a drink or something. But instead of dropping into his old seat across the room, he sat beside you.
Right beside you. No one said anything. No one noticed. But you did. You were hyper-aware of every shift—the way the cushion dipped slightly under his weight, the warmth of his thigh brushing yours. You didn’t even dare look at him at first. You just stared ahead, pretending to focus on the screen. Then, his hand landed on your thigh. Your breath caught, but it wasn’t like that. It was soft, subtle. Just a palm resting over the fabric of your dress like it belonged there.
He didn’t move it. Didn’t squeeze, didn’t tease. He just…let it be there. And somehow, that was even worse. Eventually, the others started yelling at the TV again, someone shouting “YOU IDIOT WHY WOULD YOU GO INTO THE BASEMENT ALONE?” and the whole room dissolved into laughter. Heeseung’s hand slid away. But only to settle beside your thigh, knuckles just barely brushing the hem of your dress. You hesitated, heart thudding, before you let your pinky drop, feather-light, against his.
And he hooked it, like it was nothing. Like it was everything. You finally looked up at him, hust briefly. His gaze was already on you. He didn’t smile, not quite. But his expression softened, like he was memorizing this, keeping it tucked away somewhere quiet just for him. Your cheeks burned, you looked away, but you didn’t pull your hand back.
It was late when everyone finally started gathering their things. The movie had long since ended, and the energy in the room was quiet and warm, a buzz of satisfied laughter and sleepy goodbyes. Shoes were slipped on, jackets thrown over shoulders, as one by one, people trickled toward the front door. You were the last to follow. Dragging your steps a little, pretending you were still putting your phone in your bag, but really, you were just hoping he’d say something. Do something. And he did.
As you reached the door, Heeseung caught your wrist gently. Just for a second. Just enough to make you stop and glance back at him. He stepped closer, leaning down just slightly. And before you could even say anything, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. Warm. Quick. So casual, but not casual at all. His lips lingered for just a second before pulling back. “Goodnight, princess.” he murmured. Your chest fluttered. You tried to respond, but your words caught somewhere between your throat and your racing heart. All you could do was smile, cheeks burning, as you stepped out into the night. You didn’t even remember saying goodbye to the others. You just kept touching your cheek where his mouth had been.
Another night, another game. Everyone was online, the Discord call full of laughing and yelling as you all loaded into a League match. But it felt different this time. You could feel it immediately, even before Heeseung joined. Your heart jumped a little when his icon lit up green. “Yo.” he said, like always. “Hi.” you replied softly. He hummed, low and warm. “Miss me already?” Someone snorted in the background, Kai probably, but you didn’t even flinch. “Maybe a little,” you said, light and teasing. “Don’t let it get to your head.” He chuckled. “Too late, princess.” Nobody commented. Nobody knew. But you could hear the grin in his voice, and the sound made something tug low in your stomach. You played League. You laughed with the others. The usual trash talk flew back and forth, but the way Heeseung talked to you now? It wasn’t the same.
When you stole a kill from him, he groaned dramatically. “Wow. Can’t believe my own girlfriend would do me like that.” You choked. “Heeseung—!”
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Still pending, I guess.”
Kai laughed. “Damn, she’s got you whipped.”
Heeseung only hummed again. “Can you blame me?”
Your cheeks burned, but you didn’t deny it. You just pushed your mic away a little, smiled at your screen, and kept playing.
You were mid-game, headset on, pretending to be fully focused, but your phone kept lighting up beside you. You shouldn’t have looked.
Heeseung [11:26 pm]
u looked really pretty yesterday btw
Your fingers stuttered on the keyboard.
You [11:26 pm]
heeseung please focus i’m literally dying in mid rn
Heeseung [11:26 pm]
how am i supposed to focus when u looked like that in that dress
unfair tbh
Your face was burning. You typed quickly, glancing at your minimap.
You [11:26 pm]
stop distracting me :(
Heeseung [11:27 pm]
can’t help it
u get all shy when i text u and it’s cute asf
You tried so hard to keep a straight face. Then, right when you were getting pushed under tower, Heeseung’s champion appeared in lane. Ganked clean. You got the kill. “Nice!” you said out loud, a little breathless. And then you heard it through the headset. “That’s my girl,” Heeseung murmured. You giggled. Couldn’t even help it. The call exploded.
“Kill me already,” Sunghoon groaned. “Get a room.”
“I’m gonna uninstall.” someone else muttered.
You pressed a hand over your smile, pretending to focus again, but your phone lit up once more:
Heeseung [11:30 pm]
u liked that baby?
You bit your lip, trying not to laugh again. The match was still going, your screen full of chaos, but all you could think about was the heat spreading over your cheeks.
You [11:30 pm]
maybe i didd
The typing bubble popped up right away.
Heeseung [11:30 pm]
yeah?
bet you’d like it even more if i whispered it in ur ear while u were on my lap
Your stomach flipped, pulse thudding deep in your chest. You squeezed your knees together under your desk and stared at your screen, barely registering the game anymore.
You [11:31 pm]
hee.
stoppp that’s not fair :(
Heeseung [11:31 pm]
aww baby’s getting all shy now?
cute
You didn’t answer right away, and he didn’t need you to. He knew exactly what he was doing to you. And when he pinged on the map again to come help you in lane, you swear your hands were trembling.
It was past 2 a.m. now. The group was deep into another League match, your sixth of the night. And the fourth loss. Everyone was tilted. Half-joking, swearing under their breath. But Heeseung…Heeseung was seething. You could hear it in the way he was clicking. Rapid, furious, sharp. His voice had dropped into this low, tight drawl as he muttered, “This jungler’s a bot. Actually brainless.” You shouldn’t have found it attractive. But the heat in his voice, the frustration curling behind every breath, it made your stomach flutter. But then his mic went quiet. You knew that silence. The kind that was dangerous. “Bro, this is unplayable,” Heeseung muttered suddenly. His voice sounded a bit raspy and tired. “I can’t do this shit anymore. I’m out.” Disconnect.
The call fell into stunned silence for a second. Then Sunghoon sighed. “Yikes.” Your heart dropped. You stared at your screen for a long second, your fingers frozen over your keyboard. You hadn’t even typed “gg.” You stayed quiet. Just tried to blink back the weird sting that hit you way too fast. “I’m gonna switch to Valorant,” Jay said. “Anyone else?”
“I’m in,” you mumbled, a little too quickly. You didn’t want to log off. Not yet. Not if he texted. So you launched the game, joined a party, and tried to laugh along with the others, but every second that passed, your eyes flicked down to your phone. Still nothing.
It was almost 4 a.m. by the time you logged off. You barely said goodbye, too drained from the string of losses, but more so from the ache in your chest that had settled there after Heeseung left the call. He didn’t text. Not once. You went through your usual motions anyway. Washed your face, pulled on an oversized tee, got under the covers with your phone still in hand, brightness low, just mindlessly scrolling. Checking Instagram, discord, his profile—more than once. Still nothing. Your screen dimmed. You stared at the faint glow on your ceiling, curled under your blanket, and tried not to overthink it. You told yourself he was just mad at the game, not at you. Your phone eventually slipped from your hand onto the pillow beside you. And sometime after, you drifted off, eyes closed, heart a little too heavy for sleep to come easy.
Buzz.
Your screen lit up softly in the dark. You squinted one eye open.
Heeseung [4:21 am]
sry abt that
Your heart thumped. You reached for your phone with a sleepy hand, your fingers a little clumsy as you unlocked it.
Buzz.
Heeseung [4:21 am]
wasn’t mad at u or anything
And then, after a moment:
Heeseung [4:23 am]
missed ur voice tbh
Your breath caught. Your thumb hovered over the keyboard, your chest warm, a smile curling on your lips as you looked at the screen.
You [4:24 am]
it was boring without u :(
There was barely a pause before your phone buzzed again.
Heeseung [4:24 am]
yeah baby?
That one made your breath hitch. You turned onto your back, screen hovering above your face now, your lips pressing together to contain the smile threatening to break free.
You [4:24 am]
mhm
wanted u there
The typing bubble appeared again. Stopped. Then came back.
Heeseung [4:25 am]
wanted to be there too
but u know how i get with that game lol
You giggled softly.
You [4:25 am]
i do
but u still sounded hot all pissed off like that
You waited, then cringed a little, your heart racing like ‘shit why did i say that’. A second later:
Heeseung [4:26 am]
oh yeah?
u like when i’m mad baby?
should’ve seen me after i logged off
was thinking abt u
Your heart stilled.
Heeseung [4:26 am]
couldn’t stop thinking abt ur thighs
Your hand went to your chest like you could calm the thunder in your heart.
You [4:26 am]
hee.
you can’t say stuff like that rn
Heeseung [4:27 am]
why not?
no one’s around
just me n my sleepy girl
You [4:27 am]
hmm
u like my thighs? :3
Heeseung [4:27 am]
i love them baby
You stared at his last message, your pulse loud in your ears. You swallowed. Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard for a moment before you typed.
You [4:28 am]
u love them?
Heeseung [4:28 am]
mmhmm
love how soft they looked when u sat next to me
kept thinking abt how warm u’d feel on my lap
Your thighs pressed together instinctively, breath catching. You hesitated. Then, slowly, like some part of you needed him to see, you pushed the blanket down. Your legs were folded up, thighs squished slightly together. Your tiny shorts clung to you, barely covering the top of your legs. With one hand, you tugged your shirt up just enough to show a sliver of your tummy, skin warm and soft under the low light of your phone screen. Your finger trembled as you tapped the shutter. You stared at the photo for a long moment. You didn’t look perfect, not posed like other girls might be. But something about it felt so real. So you sent it anyway.
You [4:30 am]
here :)
Three seconds passed. Then five.
Buzz.
Heeseung [4:30 am]
jesus baby
you’re gonna kill me
so fucking pretty
Buzz.
Heeseung [4:30 am]
can’t stop looking
want u so bad right now
Your body was warm all over. You stared at his words with your bottom lip between your teeth, your legs slowly stretching under the blanket again, your heart racing faster than it had all night. You type with shaky fingers.
You [4:31 am]
want u too :(
miss u
You don’t even care how needy it sounds, because it’s true. You miss the way he looked at you when no one else was watching. You miss the warmth of his hand next to yours. You miss how soft his lips were on yours.
Heeseung [4:31 am]
fuck baby
wish i could sneak into ur bed rn
kiss u slow n make u feel good
You bite your lip hard. Your whole body feels electric , flushed with adrenaline and want. You prop your phone up for a moment, your hand slipping under your oversized shirt. Your palm covers your left tit, squeezing softly. Your thighs shift and spread slightly as you angle the camera, lifting your shirt a little, enough to show a peek of tummy, the curve of your waist, the swell of your thighs pressed together in the low light. You snap the photo, heart hammering. And before you can change your mind, you send it.
Buzz.
Heeseung [4:33 am]
holy fuck
look at u baby…
can’t believe u sent this to me
Buzz.
Heeseung [4:33 am]
ur unreal
my pretty girl
all mine yeah?
Your legs curl up under the blanket again, warmth spreading between your thighs as you try to calm your breathing, but it’s impossible now, he’s everywhere, in your head, under your skin.
You [4:34 am]
mhm! only urs
want u so bad :((
Your pulse thunders in your ears as you shift on the bed, tugging your shirt higher. You take your shorts off, leaving your panties on, the cotton clinging to your pussy, soaked through, and you let your legs fall open. One hand moves to squeeze your tit, fingers covering your nipple, the curve of your breast spilling out just enough. Your shirt’s bunched under your chin, tummy soft and exposed. You lift your phone, and take a picture. You stare at it for a moment. You feel sick with nerves. Then:
You [4:35 am]
see? :(
You send the photo and immediately regret it. Not because you don’t want him to see it—you do, so badly—but because now there’s nothing. No reply. You stare at your screen, chewing your bottom lip. One minute passes. Then two. Then three. Your stomach twists, nerves bubbling up like soda fizz under your skin. Was it too much? Did you freak him out? You reach for your phone again just as the screen lights up.
Heeseung [4:39 am]
….
Your breath catches.
Heeseung [4:39 am]
princess i’m so fucking hard rn…
You bite down on your lip, heart pounding, legs still spread. His message replays in your head again and again. You can’t help yourself.
You [4:40 am]
proof? :3
The typing bubble appears instantly. Then disappears. Then it’s still again for a moment, until your screen lights up with a photo. He’s shirtless, skin flushed, abs tight. His hand is cupping his bulge through soft gray sweats, and the outline is obscene. Big. Thick. Heavy. You swear you let out the softest gasp, your thighs instinctively rubbing together. He’s huge. You press your phone to your chest, eyes wide, heart fluttering out of rhythm.
You [4:40 am]
ugh hee this is so unfair :((
Heeseung [4:41 am]
wanna make it fair baby
want u to touch yourself for me
You don’t even think. Your fingers are already slipping under the waistband of your panties before you start typing, your other hand barely steady.
You [4:41 am]
i’m already touching myself hee :( can’t stop
Your cheeks burn, your breath shaky as you press down, wet, aching, throbbing for him.
Heeseung [4:42 am]
fuck princess
wish i was there
i’d take care of u so good
you’d be shaking on my fingers
Your head falls back against your pillow as you whimper, reading and rereading his messages. He’s so good with his words, you feel them in your chest, between your legs, everywhere.
Heeseung [4:42 am]
how are u touching yourself baby?
You can’t even think straight anymore. His messages have your body burning, soaked and aching, and your fingers are moving slow, desperate circles over your clit, and all you can think about is him. The weight of his hand. The sound of his voice. His lips saying “that’s my girl.” You need him to see you like this. You pull the covers back just a little, breathing shaky as you lift your phone. One hand slips back under the waistband of your panties, your fingers teasing just enough to make your thighs twitch. You snap a photo. Your hand between your legs. Your panties slightly tugged down. Your thighs soft and parted. You’re trembling when you hit send.
You [4:43 am]
…
Seconds feel like hours.
Heeseung [4:43 am]
jesus fucking christ
look at you
fuck
keep touching yourself just like that
pretend it’s me
Your thumb hovers over the keyboard, the other hand still moving—slow, desperate circles on your clit, slick and messy. You’re so close already it’s dizzying.
You [4:43 am]
i always pretend it’s u hee :(
You hit send, barely able to see straight. It takes him a moment.
Heeseung [4:44 am]
fuck baby
you’re driving me insane
wish i could hear u right now
whimpering all soft and needy
Another sharp flick of your wrist and you gasp, eyes fluttering shut. You are whimpering, broken, breathy sounds you try to muffle into your pillow.
Heeseung [4:44 am]
keep rubbing that pretty little pussy for me
slow circles baby just like i’d do it
make yourself cum for me yeah?
You [4:44 am]
mhm :((
are u touching yourself too?
You send it while circling your clit just the way he told you to—slow, trembling, and wet. You can barely keep your hand steady, your thighs twitching at every glide. A second later, his response lights up your screen.
Heeseung [4:45 am]
yes baby
can’t help it
your pictures, your little sounds in my head
i’m so hard it hurts
That does it. You rub harder, faster, the heat coiling deep in your belly, your hips stuttering into your hand as you let out a tiny gasp, cheeks flushed, lip caught between your teeth. You need more, and he knows it.
Heeseung [4:46 am]
baby
put ur fingers inside for me
pretend it’s my fingers deep inside u
You whimper at the message, already sliding your fingers down lower, slipping them in without resistance. You’re so wet, they glide in easily, your head tilting back at the stretch, the heat, the ache.
Heeseung [4:46 am]
god i wish it was me
wish i could feel how tight you are
i’d fuck u nice and slow
You moan into your pillow, fingers curling, fucking yourself just like he would—thinking about his voice in your ear, his breath on your skin, the way he’d whisper praises in your ear while kissing your neck. It hits hard, your orgasm ripping through you in waves, thighs trembling around your hand, lips parted in a silent cry. You stay like that for a moment, ruined and flushed, before managing to pull your hand away. Still breathless, you lift your phone with shaky fingers and take another photo—your soaked fingers, a glossy string of cum stretched between them.
You [4:48 am]
made a mess for u hee :)
Heeseung [4:48am]
fuck…
fuck princess
i’m gonna cum
You’re still catching your breath when your phone buzzes again.
Heeseung [4:50 am]
you’re unreal baby
so pretty
so good for me
my perfect girl
You smile, cheeks hot, curled beneath your blanket now, the ache between your legs softening into warmth. You type slowly, eyes heavy with sleep.
You [4:50 am]
hee
u make me feel so good :(
want u here
wanna fall asleep on your chest
Heeseung [4:51 am]
i’d hold u so close princess
kiss ur forehead
play with ur hair til u fall asleep
You let out a soft, sleepy giggle into your pillow.
You [4:51 am]
mm that sounds perfect
goodnight hee <3
Heeseung [4:51 am]
goodnight baby
dream of me yeah?
<33
You tuck your phone under your pillow, smile still lingering on your lips as your eyes flutter shut, his words wrapped around you like a blanket.
You wake up to the soft buzz of your phone against your sheets, light from the screen spilling across your pillow.
27 new messages.
Your stomach flips. The group chat is blowing up and your name is all over it.
Sunoo
okay so it’s settled?? Heeseung’s place again??
Jungwon
yup tonight
Sunghoon
y/n don’t forget your controller
Jay
does she even know what’s happening rn
You stare at the screen, frozen. Heeseung’s place. Your cheeks burn as last night flashes in your mind, his voice, his texts, your fingers between your thighs. The pictures you sent. The ones he sent. And now… this? What if it’s weird now? What if it was just fun for him in the moment, but he doesn’t actually want you? What if he regrets it, and you’re showing up like a fool? You’re overthinking. Still, your fingers hover above the keyboard, hesitation burning in your chest. Then a new message pops up.
Heeseung
y/n are u in?
Three words. That’s all it takes to make your heart skip. You wait, ten seconds, twenty, trying not to read too much into it. Then, finally, you reply.
You
yeah :)
You stare at the little smiley face, hoping it doesn’t look too nervous. Hoping he sees it and hears the ‘please still want me’ in your head. Your phone buzzes again.
Heeseung [1:27 pm] (privately)
morning princess
missed u already
You [1:27 pm]
morning hee
missed u too <3
You send it before you can overthink, then hide your face in your pillow, kicking your legs. Your stomach is still tight with nerves, but his reply melts them just enough to let a smile creep in.
You’re staring at your reflection again. For the third time. Your skirt is short, but not too short, you tell yourself, sitting perfectly on your waist. The soft grey cardigan you picked out earlier clings to your frame just enough to show it off, the top buttons left undone so collarbones and chest show. You’re wearing perfume, a subtle one, the same one you wore last time at his place. You look cute. You know you do. You just hope he notices. Hope he wants you still. Hope none of what happened the other night has changed the way he looks at you.
Your phone buzzes again.
Sunoo
on our way! be there in 10
You grab your bag, swipe on a little extra lip balm, and head out. Fast-forward to Heeseung’s front door, everyone’s already inside laughing and talking as you step in. The same cozy orange light glows through the living room, voices echoing through the apartment. And then you see him, sitting on the edge of the couch in a hoodie and sweatpants, hair slightly messy like always, exactly how you like it. He turns his head the second you walk in. And you swear his eyes trail down your body, slow and shameless.
“Hey.” he says, voice low, lips lifting into the slightest smirk. “Hey.” you mumble, already feeling your cheeks warm. “You look cute.” he says simply. Like it’s just a fact. You barely manage a quiet “thank you.” before Sunghoon yells something about Mario Kart and the moment is gone. But not really, because you can feel his gaze on you even when you’re looking away.
The night has that same warm, familiar glow as last time—soft lights casting a gentle hue over Heeseung’s living room, the TV humming low as the next movie rolls. Everyone’s sprawled around the room now, Sunghoon’s half-asleep already with a bowl of popcorn resting on his chest, Jay and Sunoo are arguing playfully about which horror movie is better, and Heeseung’s legs are stretched out in front of the couch where you’re curled up on one end, hugging a fluffy pillow. Your skirt’s ruffled from how you’ve been shifting to get comfy, the neckline of your cardigan dipping slightly as you sink deeper into the cushions. You feel his gaze again, subtle but heavy. You glance up just in time to catch it, and he doesn’t even look away. He just smirks a little. You flush. Again.
Trying to act casual, you tuck your legs under yourself, tugging the hem of your skirt down just a little more. The warmth of the room, the quiet chatter, the way Heeseung hasn’t taken his eyes off you since you walked in, it’s all making you drowsy. By the time the third movie starts playing, your head is dipped against the couch, your cheek pressed to your arm. You fight it for a bit, blinking slow, barely following the plot, but your body is already giving in. Your breathing slows, your limbs go still, and eventually…you fall asleep. Heeseung notices immediately. At first, he just glances over, ready to make a comment, maybe tease you, but the words never come out. Instead, his expression softens. The curve of your lashes against your cheek, the way your lips part ever so slightly when you exhale, it’s enough to make his heart stutter.
He shifts, propping his elbow on the couch, letting his fingers curl against his cheek, watching you in silence while everyone else reacts to whatever’s happening on screen. You’re practically glowing under the dim light, blanket half falling off your thighs, cardigan slipping off one shoulder just enough to make him swallow hard. A while passes like that. Quiet. Intimate. Like it’s just the two of you in the room. Then Jay says something about it being past 3AM, and someone stands, stretching with a dramatic groan. “Should we bounce?” Sunghoon asks, rubbing his eyes. Jay nods. “Yeah, i’m dead. Heeseung, all good?” Heeseung tears his eyes away from you for the first time in a while. “Yeah.” Someone notices you next. “She’s out cold.” Jay leans in, whispering loudly. “You want us to wake her?”
Heeseung shakes his head, protective without even realizing it. “No. Don’t. She’s fine.” And just like that, they gather their things. Shoes are slipped on, phones grabbed off chargers, quiet goodbyes are mumbled, but Heeseung stays seated beside you, gaze still locked on your sleeping form. When the door finally closes and the apartment is quiet again, he stays still. His living room is bathed in that same soft orange glow, the credits roll on the TV, and you’re still there, breathing slow and peaceful, curled up with your lashes fluttering faintly, as if even in your sleep, you know he’s watching. He shifts just a little closer. You stir slightly when you feel the couch dip beside you, your body still heavy with sleep. “Hey, princess,” a voice murmurs, soft and warm near your ear. “Everyone left.” You blink up at him, slow and disoriented, eyes adjusting to the dim light. “Oh…I fell asleep?” Heeseung’s face is close, framed by the golden hue of the room, his smile gentle and just a little smug.
“Yeah,” he says, brushing a thumb lightly over your cheek. “You looked too cute to wake up.” You bite back a flustered smile, pulling the blanket tighter around your body. “You could’ve at least nudged me…” He shrugs, still looking at you like you hung the stars. “Didn’t want to. You looked peaceful.”
Your heart flutters, cheeks warming as your sleepiness starts to fade. He doesn’t move away, his face is still close, his hand resting beside your waist. The room feels warmer than it did earlier, quieter. Like everything outside of this couch doesn’t matter right now. You shift a little, your voice still a bit hushed. “So…it’s just us now?” Heeseung hums, tilting his head. “Yeah.” A pause.“You wanna stay a bit longer?” he adds. “Just us?” And the look he gives you isn’t teasing, not this time. It’s curious and hopeful.
You nod, still wrapped in the blanket, and sit up a little. A quiet yawn slips out before you bring your hand up to rub your eyes, still groggy, still warm from sleep. When you look up at him again, Heeseung’s already watching you, so closely, his gaze soft and heavy, like you’re the only thing in the world worth looking at. His lips are slightly parted, his expression unreadable but so full of something you’ve never seen from him before, not like this. Your heart stutters. Maybe it’s the quiet of the room. Maybe it’s the way he hasn’t looked away from you once. Maybe it’s the leftover warmth from your late-night texts, from the ache you haven’t been able to shake since. But something makes you reach out, slow and uncertain, your fingers brushing against his cheek before settling there gently. His skin is warm under your touch, and his lashes flutter just slightly at the contact, but he doesn’t move away.
Heeseung leans into your hand just the tiniest bit. And then, before you can overthink it, before you can get too scared, you lean in. Your lips press softly against his, barely there at first, just enough to feel the way he exhales sharply through his nose. His hand brushes lightly against your knee under the blanket, but he doesn’t pull you closer, doesn’t rush it. He just lets you kiss him, lets you decide. When you slowly pull back, your breath catching in your throat, you meet his eyes again. He’s smiling, soft, in awe, and he whispers, “Hey.”
A small laugh escapes your lips, bashful and sweet. “Hi.” You don’t say anything else for a second, both of you just sitting there in the glow of the room. And something in the way he’s looking at you, so soft, so wanting, makes the nerves dissolve into something deeper, heavier, needier. So you kiss him again.
This time with more pressure, more feeling, like all the nights of tension are finally spilling out through your lips. Your hand slips from his cheek to the back of his head, threading into his hair gently, and you feel him breathe in sharply when you do. His hands grip your waist and pull you effortlessly into his lap, and you melt against him, thighs bracketing his hips as his touch slides down to caress them slowly, reverently. You sigh softly into his mouth, and he hums in response, the sound low and satisfied. His fingers squeeze just above your knees, coaxing you closer until there’s nothing between you but heat and fabric.
Your arms wind around his shoulders, fingers threading into his hair as the kiss deepens, grows hungrier, but still soft around the edges. His lips break from yours for only a moment, breath shaky against your cheek. “Could kiss you forever.” he whispers, voice rough and thick. Your lips are still barely touching when you whisper it—quiet, breathless, almost like a confession. “I missed you.” He pauses, eyes searching yours, hands still resting on your waist like he’s afraid to let go. His voice is gentler when he replies, like he’s matching your softness.
“Yeah?” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along the hem of your cardigan. “I missed you too, princess. So much.” You feel your cheeks heat up, but you don’t look away, not this time. Not when he’s holding you like that, not when he’s looking at you like you’re the only thing that matters. A shaky breath escapes you before you murmur, “You have no idea how much I thought about you.” Heeseung tilts his head, his thumb tracing slow circles on your waist. “Yeah, baby?” he asks softly, like he’s afraid to hope. “Tell me.” You press your lips together for a moment before whispering, “I couldn’t stop replaying everything…the way you looked at me, the way you talked to me last night. I couldn’t sleep.” He lets out the faintest exhale, something between a sigh and a groan, like your words hit him right in the chest. “I know,” he says, brushing his nose against yours. “You’ve been in my head ever since i met you.” You look up at him again, shy and aching. “I was scared maybe you changed your mind.”
“Not even close,” he says without hesitation. “You don’t get it…I haven’t wanted someone like this, ever.” Your fingers curl into his hoodie, heart thudding. His lips find yours again, slower, more sure. His hands cradle you like he can’t believe you’re real. “I want you, Heeseung.” For a second, he just stares at you, his grip tightening ever so slightly on your waist. Then he leans in, lips brushing yours, voice dropping into something husky and warm, so low it shoots straight through your spine. “Show me how much, baby.” You don’t hesitate. You crash your lips to his in a filthy, needy kiss—nothing like the soft ones you shared before. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer as your body presses flush against his. He groans into your mouth, both arms wrapping around you, dragging you further onto his lap. His fingers slide up beneath your cardigan, caressing the soft skin of your waist, and your hips roll instinctively. Heeseung’s lips move feverishly against yours, and everything about him feels hot and overwhelming, like he’s been holding himself back for far too long. “You drive me crazy.” he mutters against your lips, breathless. You only kiss him harder in response, fingers clutching the sides of his jaw like you never want to let go.
His hands drift lower, until they slip beneath the hem of your skirt. You gasp softly into the kiss when his palms find the soft flesh of your thighs, then higher, until he’s gripping your ass with both hands, squeezing gently but possessively. “You’re so cute, baby.” he murmurs against your mouth, his voice thick with need and affection. You whimper, biting down softly on your lower lip as you pull back just enough to look at him. His eyes are dark, hooded, roaming over your face like he’s trying to memorize every little expression. Your cheeks flush, your hands stay tangled in his hair, your body warm and trembling in his lap. “You make me feel so…” you whisper, unsure how to finish the sentence with how full your chest feels. Heeseung leans in again, kissing you slower this time, his thumbs tracing soft circles over your skin. “I know,” he whispers. “Me too.”
Without even thinking, your hips begin to move , slow, subtle rolls against his lap, just seeking friction, something to ease the ache building between your thighs. You don’t even realize what you’re doing at first, too lost in the feeling of him, the way his hands are holding you, the way his lips feel on yours. But the second you hear him exhale, a deep, shuddering breath, you freeze. “Princess…” he murmurs, his voice all rough and low, like he’s holding back. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your cheeks burning. “Hee…” you whisper, flustered, your fingers gripping his shoulders for balance. “I didn’t mean to—” His hands slide up your back slowly, soothing. “Don’t hide from me,” he says, and you feel him smile softly against your temple. “Keep going, baby.” Your breath catches, and you nod slowly, your lips brushing his skin as you speak. Your hips keep moving against him, soft and needy, your fingers clutching the fabric of his hoodie like it’s the only thing grounding you. “Hee…” you breathe, your voice trembling as your lips brush against the warm skin of his neck. “You feel so good…”
Your soft moan spills out before you can stop it—quiet, breathy, but it sends a sharp jolt through Heeseung. His grip on your waist tightens as his cock throbs beneath you, straining against his sweats. “Fuck, baby…” he groans, his voice rough and low. “You sound so good—gonna make me lose my mind.” You shiver at his words. You try to bury your face even deeper into his neck, cheeks burning. “Stop…” you whisper shyly, squirming in his lap, but not enough to actually get away. “Don’t say stuff like that…” He laughs softly, the sound husky and fond as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Why not?” he murmurs. “It’s true. You’re so fucking cute when you’re like this…all needy and shy in my lap.”
Your body moves again, hips rolling against him with a little more need, a little more desperation. Each soft moan and whimper that escapes your lips only fuels him more, your breath catching every time your clothed core drags along the thick bulge in his sweats. “Ngh…” you whimper, clinging to him. “Mmh—just like that, baby…” Heeseung groans, deep and low, his hands sliding down your waist until they’re gripping your ass again, squeezing it firmly. His fingers dig in just a little as he helps guide your movements, encouraging you to grind harder against him, a soft moan leaving your mouth. “Yeah?” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “That what you want, princess?” You nod quickly, too dizzy to speak. He chuckles under his breath, hands keeping you steady as he rocks you against him, the pressure sending sparks through your whole body. “So pretty—so fucking soft—can’t get enough of you…”
His hands slip beneath your cardigan slowly, warm palms cupping your breasts over your bra, and the soft moan that escapes you only makes his breath hitch. “Fuck…” he murmurs, voice low and strained as he palms at you, thumbing over the fabric. You’re trembling, but still, you find the courage to sit back just enough to slowly shrug your cardigan off, cheeks burning as it falls to the couch behind you. You look up at him with wide, shy eyes, your chest rising and falling. His jaw drops slightly. “Holy fuck…” he breathes, eyes glued to the way your breasts spill against the bra, soft and full. He wastes no time, hands grabbing them over the fabric, squeezing them in his palms. “You like them, Hee?” you whisper shyly, barely able to meet his eyes.
He lets out a soft, strained laugh, eyes dark. “Princess,” he groans, “I’m so fucking hard right now, what do you think?” Your whole face flushes hot, lips parted slightly. Still, you manage a soft, almost breathless, “You can take it off…if you wanna,” your voice fragile, and your eyes impossibly big and trusting. He stares at you like you just gave him the universe. Heeseung doesn’t say anything right away, just watches you for a moment, barely holding himself together. Then, slowly, he leans in. His lips find your neck, soft and warm, pressing kisses down the delicate skin like he’s savoring you. Each one slower than the last, trailing lower with every breath you take. Your eyes flutter shut, your fingers threading back into his hair as a shaky sigh slips from your lips.
His hands move with purpose, sliding behind you, and you feel the gentle tug as his fingers find the clasp of your bra. With one flick, it comes undone. The straps fall loose against your arms, and he pulls back slightly, eyes meeting yours. You give him a small nod, cheeks burning. He pushes the straps off your shoulders and lets the bra fall between you. Then his hands return to your chest, palms warm and reverent as he cups you fully now, skin to skin. He groans softly, like he can’t help it, like the feel of you is too much. “So soft,” he mutters, squeezing you gently. “So fucking perfect…” Your head tilts slightly with a quiet whimper, lips parted, body buzzing with heat as he rolls your nipples between his fingers, teasing and slow. “You’re driving me insane, princess,” he breathes, voice thick and low. “You’re too pretty for your own good.”
You lean in just a little, shy but needy, and Heeseung catches on instantly. His hands slide up your sides again, and he brings his mouth to your chest, kissing over the soft swell before wrapping his lips around one nipple. He sucks gently, warm tongue flicking, lips tugging just enough to make you gasp. One of his hands squeezes the other breast while his mouth works you, slow and purposeful. You whimper, back arching instinctively, and your hips begin to move again, grinding softly against the bulge straining beneath you. He switches sides, his mouth now on your other breast, sucking, licking, groaning low in his throat like he can’t get enough of you. “You like it, princess?” he murmurs between kisses, breath warm against your skin. “mhm” you whine softly, your eyes shut tight as you let the pleasure wash over you. He chuckles, proud and a little breathless himself. “Yeah? Then keep going, baby.” he murmurs, voice thick. His hands settle on your hips, helping guide your rhythm as you rock against him. “Just like that.”
His mouth returns to your chest, and the room fills with quiet whimpers, heavy breathing, and the soft sound of his lips on your skin. Your fingers tug gently at the hem of his shirt, your voice barely above a whisper. “Hee…” Heeseung doesn’t hesitate, he pulls his shirt off in one smooth motion and tosses it aside, and you can’t help the soft gasp that escapes your lips. Your eyes roam his toned chest, the sharp lines of his abs catching the dim light. You bite your lip, hands instinctively rising to trace along the ridges, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your trembling fingertips. Still grinding against him, you lean forward slowly, pressing soft kisses to the side of his neck. One after another, each one deeper, needier. His breath catches when your lips suck gently, leaving behind faint red marks, proof of how badly you want him.
He groans, low and raspy, and his hands return to your ass, squeezing hard, pulling you closer as your grinding becomes more desperate. “Fuck, baby.” he whispers, voice thick and strained, his head falling back just slightly as your mouth moves along his neck. His grip on your ass tightens as he helps guide your hips faster, harder—grinding down on the thick bulge straining beneath you. Every drag of him against your clothed cunt sends sparks through your body, his cock catching perfectly on your clit, the pressure unbearable in the best way. Your moans come out higher now, breathy and helpless, and it only spurs him on. He groans low, “You’re gonna cum, princess?” You nod frantically, eyes squeezed shut, hips rocking with desperate rhythm. “Please…Hee, please—”
He doesn’t make you beg more than that. One of his hands slips down between your bodies, under your skirt, fingers pressing against the soaked fabric of your panties. He rubs small, fast circles on your clit, syncing with your grinding, the friction making you cry out. “Shit, you’re so wet.” he breathes, watching you fall apart on top of him. “Feels good, doesn’t it, baby?” And you can only nod again, whimpering, as your orgasm builds sharp and fast in your gut—his voice in your ear, his hands on your body, everything pushing you closer and closer. You tremble as the wave crashes over you, tugging on his hair as your orgasm hits—your soft, broken whimpers filling his ears as you finish, your body melting in his arms. Heeseung wraps you up, his hand stroking gently up and down your back as he whispers, “Good girl…so good for me.”
Still catching your breath, you lift your head, take his face in both your hands, and kiss him deeply, slow and messy and full of all the want that had been simmering between you for weeks. When you finally pull back, your lips are kiss-swollen, your cheeks flushed, your eyes shy, but burning with something he can’t look away from. You shift off his lap, still trembling a little, and settle down between his legs instead. Sitting back on your knees, you look up at him through your lashes, arms resting against his thighs, pressing your soft chest together just a little. “Fuck.” he breathes, his voice raspier now, his eyes dark as they rake over you. His cock is twitching in his pants, straining, aching, just from the way you’re looking at him. Just from you. “Princess…” he says low, barely holding himself back. Your voice comes out breathy and shy, but so full of want it makes his head spin. “I wanna make you feel good, Hee…”
Heeseung’s eyes drop to your hands as they move gently over the hard bulge in his pants, slow and curious, your fingers tentative but so eager. He swears under his breath, biting down on his lip, the way you look up at him so innocent while touching him nearly making him lose his mind. “Shit, baby…” he groans, hips twitching slightly into your touch. “You’re driving me crazy.” You blink up at him, a soft smile tugging on your lips as your hands press a little firmer, rubbing him through the fabric. “Let me?” you ask quietly, so sweet, so soft, like you’re asking for permission to ruin him. He cups your cheek, brushing his thumb along your skin, voice low and wrecked. “You can do anything you want to me, princess.” You give him the softest kiss on the cheek, your lips lingering just a second longer, like a promise.
Then, slowly, with trembling fingers, you tug down his sweatpants and boxers, your breath catching when his cock springs free—big, leaking, heavy against his stomach. Your thighs instinctively press together at the sight, and your lips part slightly, like you’re already imagining how he might taste. “God…” Heeseung exhales, his head tipping back as he watches you through lidded eyes. You wrap both hands around him delicately, like you’re handling something precious, and lean in, placing a soft, innocent kiss right on the tip. Your eyes flick up to meet his as you do, wide, shimmering, so sweet it makes his jaw clench. “You’re so pretty, Hee…” you whisper, kissing him again, lips brushing lightly down the side of his shaft.
He twitches in your hand, groaning low. “You’re the one that’s pretty, princess,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “So fucking pretty…down on your knees for me.” He cups the back of your head gently, fingers threading into your hair as you continue kissing along his length, so slow, so teasing, savoring every second. Your tongue flicks out slowly, tasting the tip, salty and warm. You kiss it again, before dragging your tongue just a little lower, teasing the underside as you hear Heeseung’s breath hitch above you. “Fuck…” he mutters under his breath, his grip on your hair tightening just slightly.
You kiss him again, and then finally part your lips and sink down just a little, taking him into your mouth, the warmth and weight of him making you shiver. The second he’s inside, even just barely, a soft moan escapes you, quiet, involuntary, but enough to make him groan. “You like it, baby?” he breathes, his voice low and ruined. You hum around him in response, sending vibrations up his shaft, and it makes him curse again. You pull back slightly, your lips wet and shiny, looking up at him with that same innocent gaze. Heeseung’s jaw clenches as he watches you. “God, you’re so fucking perfect, princess…” You wrap your lips fully around him, taking him deeper this time, your mouth warm and wet as you start to suck with more confidence. Your hand tightens its grip around his shaft, fingers sliding smoothly as you bob your head up and down, eyes locked on his dark, intense gaze.
A thin strand of drool escapes the corner of your mouth, dripping down his length, but you don’t care, your focus is on him, on the way his breath hitches and his body tenses under your touch. Heeseung groans, one hand curling around your cheek, thumb brushing softly over your skin while the other finds your hair, guiding your movements like a gentle command. “Fuck, baby,” he rasps, voice rough and desperate. “Just like that—keep going.” You obey without hesitation, the rhythm steady and slow, savoring every moment, every reaction from him. You take him a little deeper, the sudden stretch making you gag softly. Your eyes water, tears gathering at the corners, but you don’t stop, driven by the way Heeseung’s low moan vibrates through you. Pulling back just enough to catch your breath, you look up at him with wide, glistening eyes and ask in a quiet, tender voice, “Does it feel good, baby?”
The moment the word leaves your lips, his composure shatters. His grip tightens, jaw clenches, and a guttural growl escapes him.“Fuck…,” he rasps, voice thick with want and disbelief. “You calling me that…I’m losing it.” His hands tighten in your hair, pulling you gently but firmly back down as his hips shift, desperate for more. Heeseung’s hands grip your hair firmly, guiding your head up and down faster now. Your soft moans fill the room, the vibrations sending shivers straight through him. He growls low, voice strained with need. “Shit—I’m gonna cum, princess.” he warns, breath hitching. You pull back just enough, lips parted and tongue sliding out to trace the length of him one last time. Your hands move eagerly up and down his shaft, keeping the pace as you wait for him to let go. His hips jerk forward suddenly, and he curses, fingers tangling tighter in your hair as he shudders, spilling hot and heavy into your mouth. You swallow it all and then lean in, lips parted, tongue peeking out to show him it’s all gone—clean, obedient, just for him.
His eyes darken as he exhales shakily. “Holy shit, baby…you’re fucking unreal.” You giggle softly, cheeks flushed, and crawl back onto his lap. Your lips meet his for a tender kiss, sweet and slow, but he kisses you back harder, possessive now, hands sliding over your hips before squeezing your ass firmly. The sudden smack he lands on it makes you whimper against his lips, body jolting slightly. Then, with barely a second to catch your breath, he flips you over on the couch, your back hitting the cushions with a soft thud, his body hovering over yours. He kisses you hungrily, like he can’t get enough, mouth trailing down your neck, your collarbones, teeth grazing, lips sucking until you know there’ll be marks. You whimper beneath him, arching into his touch, needing more.
He pulls your skirt down slowly, followed by your panties, dragging the soft fabric down your thighs with careful hands, like he’s unwrapping something precious. His breath catches when you’re bare for him, eyes darkening as he settles between your legs. His fingers gently part you, slow and deliberate, and he swipes through your slick with a quiet exhale. “So pretty…” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Embarrassment flutters in your chest and you instinctively cover your face with your hands, cheeks burning. He chuckles softly, voice low and warm. “Why are you hiding from me, baby?”
You don’t answer, you can’t, not when he leans in and presses a soft, open-mouthed kiss to you, licking a slow stripe that has your back arching. You gasp, your fingers reaching down to grab at his hair. He keeps going, licking, kissing, sucking, slow at first, then faster, more purposeful. You whimper his name, thighs trembling as he keeps you open with one arm wrapped around your hip. And then, his fingers. One sliding in, then another, curling just right as his mouth never lets up. The combination makes your toes curl, your moans growing softer but needier, your grip on his hair tighter with every flick of his tongue. “Hee…” you whine, breathless.
He groans against you in response, like he could stay there forever, completely lost in you. His fingers are working you open, curling and thrusting in a rhythm that’s already overwhelming. His tongue moves with practiced precision, flicking and sucking at your clit until your thighs are trembling around his head. And then suddenly, his fingers slip out, replaced by both of his arms wrapping firmly around your waist, tugging you closer to his mouth. His hands slide up your body and cup your tits, squeezing gently at first, then harder when you moan. His thumbs brush over your nipples, sending jolts of heat straight through your core. “Fuck, you taste so good,” he groans between licks, his breath warm and ragged against you. “Could stay here all night, baby. You’re so sweet…so wet just for me.”
You let out a choked sound, high and breathy, your hands flying to cover his on your chest, needing to feel him, hold him, ground yourself. Your hips twitch helplessly as his mouth drags another moan from your lips. “So sensitive,” he mumbles, sucking your clit just right. “So fucking good for me. Can’t believe I get to have you like this.”
You whimper, eyes squeezed shut, fingers squeezing his tighter. “Please…Baby—don’t stop.” you whine. He moans against your cunt, sucking harder now, his fingers rolling your nipples as your body writhes beneath him, overwhelmed by the pleasure building like a storm. Your whole body’s trembling, thighs tightening around his head, your hips bucking up into his mouth without you even realizing. “Hee—” you whimper, breath hitching. “I’m—I’m cumming—”
Your hands clutch his over your chest, knuckles white, your back arching as your voice gets higher. “Fuck, that’s it,” he groans, voice muffled against your soaked cunt. “Cum for me, baby. All over my fucking mouth.” And you do. A broken, high-pitched moan escapes you as your release crashes through your body, your hips stuttering against his face, your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer. He groans again at the feeling, his tongue still working you through it, drinking every last bit of it up like he needs it to live. Your thighs tremble around him, your whole body going warm and overstimulated, but he’s still kissing the inside of your thigh, murmuring softly, “That’s my good girl…”
He pulls back from between your thighs, lips shiny, eyes dark and hungry. Still catching your breath, you reach up with shaky arms and hook them behind his neck, tugging him down into a messy, desperate kiss. You moan softly into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue. He groans into the kiss, hands sliding under you, one under your back, the other under your thighs, and lifts you like you weigh nothing. You gasp, arms tightening around his shoulders, your forehead resting against his. He carries you through the quiet of his room, the only sound your shallow breathing and the soft creak of the floor beneath his feet. His eyes stay locked on yours, so intense it makes your stomach flutter.
And when he reaches the edge of the bed, he lays you down gently, hands never leaving your body, and whispers, “You’re so perfect like this, princess…” He crawls over you slowly, eyes raking over every inch of your bare body, like he can’t believe you’re really here, like this, under him. His hands trail down your waist, squeezing gently before gliding to your hips, your thighs, your ass. He lowers his head to your neck, kissing and sucking softly, then down to your chest, lingering there, murmuring sweet nothings between kisses.
“I’m gonna make you feel so good.” he whispers against your skin, voice low and rough. You nod, already breathless, lips parting into a pout. “Please, baby…” you whine, fingers slipping through his hair, playing with it softly. His eyes flicker between yours as he pushes his sweatpants down, his voice low and breathless. “My sweet little girlfriend, yeah?” he murmurs, gaze heavy with want, but also something softer. You gasp, heart pounding, but you nod quickly, eagerly. “Yes, baby… please. Wanna be yours, Hee.” He groans under his breath, palming himself through his boxers. “Fuck…” Then he slips them off, his cock springing free once again. He positions himself between your thighs, stroking himself slowly as he looks down at you, completely bare and trembling beneath him. “All mine,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss you again, “Gonna take care of you.”
He finds your hand beside your head and gently intertwines his fingers with yours, grounding you, holding you close. “Got you, baby.” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. Then he slowly starts to push inside, inch by inch, his breath stuttering. “God…you’re so tight, princess. Love this pretty pussy…” You whimper, brows furrowed as you cling to his hand, squeezing it tightly. The stretch burns a little, making you wince, your thighs trembling around his waist. He pauses, his free hand stroking your cheek, eyes locked with yours. “You okay?” he murmurs, voice laced with care. You nod shyly, breathless. “Y-Yeah… just go slow, baby.”
As he inches in the rest of the way, your mouth parts in a sharp gasp from the stretch, but before the sound can fully escape, Heeseung leans in and kisses you, swallowing the noise and grounding you with his lips. “Doing so good for me.” he murmurs against your mouth. He stays there, buried deep, holding still, giving you time, kissing your cheeks, your nose, the corner of your lips. You squeeze his hand tighter, chest rising and falling as you adjust to the size of him. “Y-You can move…Hee.” you whisper shyly, blinking up at him with watery eyes. He nods, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Okay, baby. I’ll be gentle.” And then he starts to move, slow and careful, dragging his hips back and rolling them forward again. He keeps holding your hand, his other brushing down your side. Every thrust melts the ache into something warmer, deeper, and you whimper softly beneath him, each sound making his heart clench. “That’s it,” he breathes, kissing your cheek as your lashes flutter. “Feels good now, doesn’t it?”
You nod quickly, lips parted, eyes fluttering open to meet his. “Mhm…feels so good…” Heeseung leans closer, voice rough and low in your ear. “Been thinking about you like this since the first time I saw you…” You gasp, your back arching at his words. “All wet and shy…wrapped around my cock like this.” His thrusts get slower, deeper, savoring every second. “Fuck, you feel like a dream, princess.” Your hands cling to his shoulders, lips brushing against his ear as you pant, your voice trembling but honest, too far gone to hold back now. “I touch myself to your voice…” you whisper, so shy but so desperate.“Every time you spoke, I’d get so wet.” You whine, tightening around him. “So wet for you, Hee… always.” His hips falter at the confession, breath catching in his throat. “Fuck, baby…” he groans, voice rough with desire, and then he thrusts harder, faster, trying to reach deeper just from your words alone.
“You’ve been mine this whole time, hm?” he breathes against your lips. “Getting off to my voice, fuck—dirty little thing.” You whimper, completely unraveling, and he’s loving every second of it. “Please, Hee…wanna ride you, please.” Your voice is all breathy and sweet. He groans low, twitching inside you, the tip of his cock nudging that spot that makes your thighs tremble. “Fuck…yeah, baby,” he breathes. “C’mere.” He pulls out gently, lays flat on the bed, eyes burning into yours as he guides you up. “Come ride your man.” You’re quick to move, desperate, aching. You straddle him with shaky thighs and grab his cock, lining him up and slowly sinking down, whining as he stretches you open again. Your hands splay on his abs for balance, your head falling back at the fullness. “So deep…” you breathe. “F-fuck, Heeseung…” He watches you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, his hands gripping your thighs, sliding up your waist, thumbs brushing under your breasts. “That’s it, baby… take what you need,” he says, voice low and full of want. “Look at you…riding me so good already.”
You start bouncing on him, slow at first, then faster, the wet sound of you taking him again and again filling the room, making his breath catch in his throat. Your head tilts to the side a little as soft, high-pitched moans spill from your lips, your eyes fluttering with every drag of him deep inside. “Holy shit…” Heeseung groans, eyes roaming all over you—your flushed skin, your bouncing tits, the way your stomach tightens every time you sink back down on him. His hands move up to your chest, squeezing your tits in his palms, thumbs brushing over your nipples just to hear you whine again. Then down, caressing the curve of your waist, trailing lower until they find your ass, gripping it hard, pulling you deeper on his cock, then suddenly landing a sharp slap to one cheek.
You gasp, a broken moan leaving your throat as your hips stutter. He smirks, rubbing the spot he slapped. “So fucking cute when you sound like that, princess.” Then his hands slide down your thighs, fingers dragging over the soft skin, admiring the way they tense as you keep moving. “Feel so good riding me, baby.” he says, voice breathless.
Your rhythm turns desperate, bouncing faster and harder as your hands cling to his abs, nails digging slightly into his skin. “Want you—so bad, Hee—need you,” you pant, voice high and breathless, “Need to be—under your skin…” He lets out a soft chuckle, the need in your voice making his cock twitch deep inside you. “God, baby,” he murmurs, his hand sliding down to rub tight, fast circles on your clit. “You’re so fucking needy…” You nod, crying out as his fingers work you harder, your thighs trembling. “Hee—Hee, I love you—love you so much—ahh!” His hips twitch beneath you, and he sits up just enough to pull you in for a kiss, messy and deep, all tongue and breath. “I love you too, princess,” he whispers against your lips, “I’ll always take care of you—my sweet, perfect baby.” You nod frantically, fingers tangling in his hair, overwhelmed with pleasure and emotion. “I’m gonna cum—gonna cum for you, Hee!”
“Cum for me, baby.” he groans, fingers still circling your clit as you crash into your orgasm, moaning loud, hips stuttering. He holds you through it, eyes fixed on your face, utterly in love. Then, with a low curse, he lifts you just enough to slide out of you, stroking himself fast and desperate before finishing all over your belly with a strangled moan, his hand trembling from the force of it. You both stay still for a moment, catching your breath, your skin warm and glowing, his cum sticky on you, his arms still wrapped around you as you sit on his lap. He’s pressing lazy kisses to your shoulder, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your hips. “Was that okay?” he murmurs against your skin, voice low and hoarse. You nod slowly, leaning your head against his. “It was perfect.” He smiles, nuzzling your neck, “You’re perfect.”
After a moment, he shifts gently, reaching for a tissue from the nightstand and cleaning you up carefully, his touch tender, eyes always flickering up to check if you’re okay. You just watch him, dazed and dreamy and completely in love. He tosses the tissue aside and pulls you into his chest. You tuck yourself under his chin, your fingers playing softly with his hair. His heartbeat’s still a little fast. “I still can’t believe i did this to you.” he whispers. You smile against his skin. “I always wanted you to do it.” You lie there like that for a while, tangled up, warm and soft, only the sound of your breathing filling the room.
His hand finds yours again, fingers interlacing without thought. Then, very quietly, you murmur against his chest, “Want you to fuck me again, Heeseung.” He freezes. Blinks. Tilts his head to look at you, his eyes wide. “W-What? Now?” You look up at him innocently, smiling, eyes wide and full of mischief. “Mhm!” He groans, dragging a hand down his face as the tips of his ears turn bright red. “Princess…you’re gonna kill me.” You giggle, tugging at his hair and pulling him back down for a sweet kiss.
a/n: got lazy at the end. also left a sneaky easter egg whoever finds it gets a kiss :p idk how this got so long sry if it was annoying
contains fingering and slight cervix touching?? (Idk what my mind was on last night.)
“Oi, are you falling asleep?”
“N-No…M’not…”
Your voice grew quiet yet hoarse as you lay there beside Law, your legs spread open as he embedded his fingers deep inside of you. A soft mewl leave your lips as you feel him push his fingers deeper into your cunt, his fingertips slowly sliding in while your walls coated his fingers in your slick.
You tremble as you feel him press against your cervix intentionally. A soft gasp leaves you while you bury your face into his neck, trying to muffle your moans.
You feel him trace your cervix inside of you before he aims his fingers up higher, sliding around for your g-spot. A loud and abrupt moan leaves your lips as Law unintentionally nudge his fingers hard against your g-spot. Your toes curls as he grinds his finger along the soft yet spongey spot, a few moans spilling from your lips.
A smirk appears across his face before he moves in closer to you, his fingers going deeper into you. “You’re taking them so good, want me to add another finger?” He asks, his slightly darkened eyes staring deep into yours. “Y-Yes~ Yes please~” You say softly, your cunt yearning for another finger.
Law smiles before slowly sliding another finger get inside of you, his three digits giving you a good stretch. He begins to thrust his fingers in and out of you, the sloppy noises of your soaking cunt taking in his fingers so hungrily. You moan out as you feel his fingertips repeatedly hitting your g-spot, your walls slightly tightening around his thick digits.
“T-Traffy~” You moan out softly to Law. Law only sat there and stared at you as you enjoyed him pleasuring your cunt with his fingers. “What’s wrong? You’re close?” He asks, teasing you as he presses a kiss to your ear. You nodded eagerly as you felt your walls beginning to spasm around his fingers. He increases the speed of his fingers, making your squirm under him.
“Fuck fuck! Fuck L-Law!~” You arch your back as you squirt out into Law’s hand and his bedsheets, a relieved sigh leaving you as you finally relax you’re against the soft sheets and blankets below you. “Good girl, good girl~” You hear Law whisper as he slows his fingers. You let out soft little mewls as his movements slowed down within your cunt before he removes his fingers from you.
A string of slick and cum connects from your cunt to his fingers as he chuckles from how cute you looked. He brings his fingers up to his lips before sucking on them, tasting all of your juices.
“So fuckin’ sweet~” Law whispers to you, still suckling on his fingers. You blush and turn away from him, your breaths still heavy from your climax. Feeling the bed shift, you turn back to Law who sits himself up and hovers himself over you.
You feel him grind his hardened cock along your slit before he licks his lips in anticipation. He moves in and presses a kiss to your lips before trailing his lips down your chin.
A soft groan leaves you as he suckles on your skin, leaving little hickeys along your soft skin. “Relax, m’gonna put you to sleep.”
y’all- I wrote this at 3 in the morning and it was the last thing I did before I went to sleep.
Xavier really didn’t get why you refused to sit on his face. It was pretty clear the poor man was desperate for that pussy to suffocate him like you owned him.
“Baby, you’re not too heavy. Please, please.. let me eat you out.” He begged, his hips already jerking into the air as your cunt was so close to his nose. He could already smell how aroused you were, so why wouldn’t you let him have you? How bothersome.
“Please, put that pretty pussy on my tongue,” he hummed lowly, letting the sound vibrate in his throat as he finally locked his arms around your thighs to pull you down onto his face.
He was fucking filthy. His tongue explored every inch of your pussy and those slick folds like he was starved. He couldn’t believe he had been missing out on this just because some dumbasses convinced his wife— girlfriend, but he’s manifesting— that she wasn’t absolute perfection in every aspect of her godly being.
“Ohmygod, baby.. you’re so sweet..” He whimpered, drowning himself in the slick dripping down your thighs as he tried his best to lap up every drop on your cunt. “‘M gonna cum all over my pants.”
The bastard had no shame, reaching down to palm his red cock through his sweats as his free hand pressed his index and middle fingers into your pussy to spread you open further. “Pleasepleasepleaseplease cum on my tongue, baby.”
He relished in the sensations of you grabbing onto his hair, gradually giving in to his touching as his thumb reached to rub your clit roughly. “C’mon, baby.. I know you can do it, I know, I know..”
It almost sounded condescending, but he was so lost in that pussy, he didn’t even know his own name anymore.
He swore he saw heaven when you came all over his face, his hands gripping your ass to keep you in place so he could eat you out again under the guise of helping you “clean up.”
He’s insatiable.
im p sure he was the only li i hadn’t written for whoopsies imsorry xavi nation ik he’s a big girl enjoyer
in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.
SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.
PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)
WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, makeout (cater)
NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this!
There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.
You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.
"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"
Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!
Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.
"You have to be her!"
"You don't even know my name!"
You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.
You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.
And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.
You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.
And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.
"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"
The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.
"I do."
You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.
"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!
You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.
You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.
"I—"
"I object!"
RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
"Grim, please explain to me why I received an invitation to the Prefect's wedding... I am calm, Trey. I would just prefer to know the details before I go and fetch her myself... and may I ask one more thing? Yes, hoW IN THE WORLD DID THE PREFECT GET KIDNAPPED LIKE THIS?! DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO CALM ME DOWN, CATER. I AM PERFECTLY CALM."
Riddle calmly asked about your whereabouts, and it does not take him long to immediately get to work. As one of the better respected housewardens among the roster, it was easier to ask for a few favors that could get him to that damned cathedral fast. However, as the traffic did pile up to get to this accursed wedding, Riddle finds himself on horseback.
He does have this awful crush on you, but it never really crosses his mind. Even as he holds certain feelings for you, it's at the back of his mind. Riddle values your autonomy, and this marriage was a massive red flag. Surely, you cannot have possibly agreed to such a thing. It was just not in your nature. You would have protested, and the fact that you are not back in campus means that something is preventing you from speaking your mind. Riddle really respects you in this aspect!
Still, the idea of you marrying some prince who barely knew it was absolutely absurd. Riddle won't allow it, he absolutely won't!
The doors were flung open with a loud thud, revealing a red-head in a suit. Much to your surprise, Riddle isn't burning red with a fiery rage and threatening to have everyone's head off. He's stomping towards you and your supposed groom, fist clenched as he throws out an arm out of anger. He doesn't seem too angry, but determined.
"ENOUGH! SHE WILL BE COMING BACK TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE WITH ME NOW."
Okay, maybe you were wrong about him not being angry.
His voice echoes throughout the entire cathedral, followed by several flinches at his sheer volume. Immediately, the crowd by the rows inch back a bit further as he continues to march forward, ignoring the guards that seemed to hesitate to approach him. Pierce raises a brow, almost annoyed rather than fearful of this disturbance.
"There seems to be a misunderstanding. You see, the Prefect is going to be married to me. You can sort out your affairs after the ceremony is over." Well, that didn't seem to help one bit, judging by how Riddle seemed to fume even further at this statement.
The housewarden comes to a halt, sucking in a sharp breath to calm his temper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to frighten you.
He breathes out your name, sending a stutter through your heart.
"Do you truly want to marry this man?"
It almost makes you swoon, the way Riddle looks at you so earnestly as he asks for some affirmation. Had it been any other scenario, you would've taken your time to bore your eyes into his and study his expression. Instead, you shake your head wildly, racing down the aisle until you have hidden yourself behind him.
Riddle has the nerve to smirk at the shocked Prince. "And here, I thought princes had a code of conduct when it came to their ladies." He turned back to you with an assuring look. "I'll take you home, Prefect."
Truly, Riddle had no intentions of playing around. He had only one objective, to get you out of here. Just as he turns around to escort you out of the cathedral, a pair of guards had blocked the exit.
"No, I cannot let you leave!" Pierce cried out, ready to give chase. "Prefect, please! Give me a chance. You cannot possibly be ready to leave me for... this guy!"
Riddle's eye twitches as he cranes himself to look at the prince. "You have some nerve!" He clicks out, clenching his fists once more. Everyone feels the cathedral heat up, those closer to the aisles feeling beads of sweat form upon their temples. Even as you looked at Riddle so gently, a part of you was somewhat grateful that he was sticking up for you.
Just as his top was about to blow, you muster the will to tug on Riddle's sleeve. As quickly as his reddened face came, it disappears when he glances back at your soft expression. Huffing out a heavy sigh, Riddle clicks his tongue and marches towards the exit.
"Let's be on our way, Prefect. We shouldn't waste our precious time on these trifles."
Needless to say, no one really wanted to test the housewarden's patience as he escorted you out of that Cathedral. Riddle certainly doesn't waste time hoisting you onto his horse and galloping away, not giving the prince a second to try and retrieve you.
He grumbles about the entire ordeal, mostly questioning the absolute ridicule of the marriage. What kind of prince thinks he can get away with it? Riddle is certain to send a complain to Royal Sword Academy regarding their lessons on conduct if no one tries to stop him.
You could easily see Night Raven College from afar as you peeked from behind his tuft of red hair. Riddle is still rambling, a preferable alternative to losing his temper entirely. "That ruffian dares to marry you and has yet to learn your name! How uncouth!" He spat in absolute distaste, and he finds comfort in the way you giggle in agreement.
Riddle doesn't seem to take note of the way your arms are crossed around his middle, or maybe he does, and just chooses not to let his blush show. He cleared his throat, gripping the reigns a bit tighter. "You will find better suitors, Prefect. Just promise me that he wouldn't be so impulsive as that Prince."
TREY CLOVER
"Can you drive any faster, Deuce? No, I don't think we're late. Better safe than sorry! ... Suit, check. Speech, check. Myself, check. I've got everything in order, but... hah, I'd expect to do this type of thing a few years down the line, let alone object at a wedding at all. At least, it's the Prefect's wedding... That's such a weird thing to conceptualize at this point in time."
He really didn't have to be so dramatic about the entire thing, but Trey is really going all-out for this objection. Really, all he's done is seen movies where someone objects at a wedding and while he knows its entirely fictional, our boy here has to drive the point home; no one is marrying the Prefect today.
So that explains why he even bothered to dress up and rehearse a speech throughout the entire ride to the cathedral. He has Heartslabyul helping him out to secure an escape for you in case things went awry. Sure, Trey's Unique Magic won't come in handy but he's good with his words, and is relatively charismatic. He's earned that title of Vice Housewarden, after all.
All that preparation flies out the window when he sees you down the aisle, however.
"Trey?"
He's blinking profusely, almost flustered himself by how radiant you looked in that wedding dress. For a moment, Trey swears that he's had some sort of tunnel vision when all he seems to see is you. It strikes some envy in him when he reminds himself that this wasn't his wedding, and this wouldn't be yours either.
"Prefect..." Trey breathed out, struggling to recall the damn script he was supposed to follow. They are lost, just as he found himself lost in your sparkling gaze.
Screw the script, he was just going to have to wing this one.
He narrows his eyes onto the shocked prince, taking steps down that long carpet. "I've come to bring you back to Night Raven College."
Pierce raises a brow, glancing back at you and the intruder with suspicion. "On what grounds?" He questions snidely, uncertain of what to make of this new character. "If it is for anything trivial, then you may bother the Prefect later. You are obstructing a ceremony here, sir."
You recognize that dangerous glint behind Trey's eyes, and it only serves to make your heart race. Trey simply smirks, hiding away his hesitant exterior with a haughty farce. "I am afraid it cannot wait. I cannot allow the Prefect to be married without saying my piece."
He doesn't exactly know where all his bravado was coming from, but if he had to confess his feelings to you now, then so be it.
Trey looks at you, flashing a gentle yet sheepish smile. "Prefect, I fell for you. Hook, line, and sinker." You let out a dramatic gasp along with the onlookers, allowing a hand to fly to your parted lips. "I have harbored those feelings for a long time now, and I cannot bring myself to see you married without letting my heart be known."
Swallowing to himself, Trey's expression falters slightly, falling into one of softness. "Prefect, it is your happiness that I desire. No matter what happens, I will support your choice."
He didn't exactly have to tell you twice, not when you hurry yourself over to his side and latch onto his arm. You didn't have to feed his ego like that, but it isn't as if Trey had any room to complain.
Pierce is angered by the sight, glaring daggers at Trey with such envy and animosity. "Prefect, are you really leaving me on the altar?" As if to subtly annoy the prince even further, Trey hooks an arm around your waist and pivots you to turn. "It seems to be so, Prince Pierce. I fear that your beautiful bride will be stolen on this lovely afternoon."
You do not miss the way Trey smirks at your flustered expression. Just as he continues to walk you to the exit, you gritted your teeth at him. "Don't say such things!" You tell him as the heat rises to your cheeks. You hear him hum at your ear, followed by the slight press of his fingers on your hip.
"Why shouldn't I? You look beautiful in this dress," Trey murmurs in your ear, pushing the cathedral door open with his hand. "And I suppose that the prince hasn't coaxed this expression out of you. I almost feel sorry for him, that he never got the chance to see how lovely you are when you are putty in my hands."
Trey doesn't stop teasing you, even once you are back in Night Raven College. He wouldn't stop complimenting you either, aiming to have you as red as possible. He just can't help it. It's probably the high he got from confessing his feelings to you, or maybe it's the part where you're unsure if he was being sincere or not. Regardless, it was fun seeing you get all flustered because of him.
You are seated by the Heartslabyul's kitchen counter, snacking on some quick treats that Trey had prepared for you. He claims that it was a consolation for the fact you never got to taste your own wedding cake. Still clad in your grand wedding dress, you couldn't exactly care any less about the crumbs soiling the skirts. "You're no prince charming, Trey." You mentioned mid-bite, eyes glancing at the vice-housewarden who was seated across from you.
"What makes you say that?" He asks you with a slight smile, resting his chin on his palm as he shamelessly bored his gaze into yours.
You snort, rolling your eyes at his seemingly sweet disposition. "Prince Charmings don't tease the girls that they like until they're as red as Riddle." You huffed, digging your fork into the pastry. "You cruel man! You haven't stopped ever since you stole me from the prince!"
Trey chuckles, and you cannot keep yourself from gulping as he leaves his seat, sauntering towards you like a lion would his prey. "Oh? I suppose that I am no Prince Charming. I'm not a pure white knight either. If you think I am being cruel, I won't stop you, sweetheart."
Your heart stutters as he slides a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head so that your forced to look his way. Trey smiles at you, eyes twinkling with absolute mischief. "I highly doubt Prince Charmings steal kisses from their crushes either. For you, I will be kind. May I, sweetheart? I do not need your shoe size to know my feelings for you, at least."
CATER DIAMOND
"Gah, it just refreshed! They've just gotten past the walking part! Deuce, shortcut on your left! Sorry, I'm switching tabs between maps and the livestream! Prefect looks is such a cutie in that dress, it makes me so envious of the prince! Oh well, she really looks like she doesn't wanna be there anyways. I'm coming Prefect! I'll save you!"
There's just this image of Cater clinging onto Deuce on a blastcycle, raising his phone up for a signal as they attempt to maneuver their way through the streets. Everything just happened in such a rush, and Cater's scrambling to get to you. He isn't like Trey who bothers to prepare, but if anything, Cater will ramp up the dramatics to the maximum.
His real goal is just to get you out by any means necessary, and more preferably, without violence. So Cater will do what he does best; make a grand spectacle of the entire thing until the prince is forced to abdicate. Worst case scenario, he's going to drag you out the door and shove you onto the damn blastcycle.
If he has to play the part of your real paramour, then he hopes you'll forgive him. He's got the suit and the desperate look on his face ready to go!
Your jaw goes slack at the way Cater makes a dramatic run for the aisle, somewhat unused to that stricken expression on his face. You're almost concerned for him with the way he grips his knees, attempting to keep his balance as his eyes zone in onto yours.
"Prefect, you can't marry him!" It's too out of character of Cater, and you know better than to think he'd ever be this undone in public. "Is this what you really want?!" Before you could even reply, Pierce cuts in with a slight glare.
"And who are you to talk to my bride like that?" It is then when you catch wind of that mischievous glint in Cater's eye as he throws out his arm dramatically.
"I am the Prefect's sweetheart! Who are you to take my girlfriend like that?"
You have never heard the cathedral go so silent. You are utterly speechless, lips parted with absolute surprise. Clearly, judging by the way sweat had begun to form on the side of Cater's temple, you cannot help but think that this was all improv on his half.
Pierce turns to look at you, almost stricken by the ginger's declaration. "Prefect, is that true?" His voice trembles with fear. "Is that truly your... sweetheart?"
A part of you feels a bit sorry for what you were about to do, but you had to remind yourself that you had been dragged into a wedding on the same day you met this prince.
You are running now, sprinting to Cater's side as you clutch his hand in your own. Turning back to the scandalized prince, you nod firmly, playing along with the farce. "We've been dating for a long time now! And I'm in love with him!" You declare, sending gasps throughout the entire cathedral.
You glance up at Cater, mustering a smile across your features. "You came to save me!" He's almost surprised by the way you cling onto him even harder, but it only serves to sell the act even further. Cater smiles in return, holding you closely. "I'd never let you go, cutie. I love you too much to let you leap into the arms of another man."
Maybe the act is too good, too calculated. That is exactly what goes through your head as Pierce raises a brow in suspicion, narrowing his eyes onto the pair as if attempting to spot a mistake. "Is that so?" He murmurs until he crosses his arms, disbelief on his skeptical expression.
"Prove it."
Cater and you freeze up simultaneously, heads turning to glance at one another. He looked so caught off guard by Pierce's demand, and there's so many eyes on you both.
"You're both longtime sweethearts, right? I wouldn't want to split apart such a happy couple..."
Cater is staring at you, attempting to read your expression. It's difficult, especially when you look at him as your gaze gets even more glossy. He wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want to, and he's already readying himself to sprint out the door with you in tow.
"Prefect, you don't have to—mmph!"
You wasted no time in snaking your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against him with such boldness. He could feel you pour all your wants and longings into the kiss, the plush of your soft lips melding into his own. How could he not deny you his own affections, not as he cups your cheeks with his slender fingers and presses back against you.
He dares to go even further, pulling back for a slight gasp of air before diving back into you. Much to his delight, you aren't pulling away either, choosing to even entangle your fingers into his hair for leverage.
Then you hear a groan from the prince, followed by his pleas for you two to stop this display. It seems that he got the point now, at least.
Even as both of you exit the cathedral, Cater still maintains the image that he was your boyfriend. You don't exactly protest, and even then, it didn't seem to different to the way Cater had been treating you as a friend. He is still as clingy as ever, closing the physical proximities by having you hang onto his arm.
And you best believe he's snapping as much photos of you to commemorate the event. He's already updating his MagiCam account on his success, not to mention the pretty girl on his arm.
"Cater, what are you doing?" You asked, unable to hide the grin on your face as Cater sets up his camera against the tire of the blastcycle. You could see yourselves on the reflection of the device, followed by the grand beauty of the cathedral behind you both. He grins at you as he shifts at your side.
"What? It isn't everyday a cutie like you gets to look like a bride. We got the perfect backdrop!" He sings, sliding an arm around your waist as he strikes for a pose. You follow his lead, matching his energy with each shot.
"Careful! People are going to think we're dating for real!"
Cater smirks at you, leaning in closely to your ear with a sickeningly sweet tease. "Wanna make it official then, cutie? Can't have any random princes asking for your hand, not when you're dating me." He is not stranger to the way you blush, letting out a chuckle at the sight.
"Aw, cutie! Are you still thinking about the kiss? I didn't think you would be so bold about it." Pressing a quick peck on the cheek, he rests his chin on your head as he prepares for another pose. "Don't worry. CayCay's gonna initiate it next time!"
DEUCE SPADE
"Grim, which way?! I can't see the GPS! ... Don't I just have to go in there and yell 'I object'? It looks easy! I'll say it then drag Prefect out of there... Ha?! I need to prove that I have a good reason to get her out? Fine! I don't care, the Prefect needs me!"
Possibly the closest we will get to a legit Prince Charming. Perhaps Deuce is a bit on the rugged side, but he's possibly one of the most earnest and noble students from Night Raven College. He cares about you more than he cares about getting his feelings across, but that is not to say he won't be honest about it either in this confrontation.
He's not exactly sure on how to break up the ceremony. Grim and Ace are coaching him through what to say, and admittedly, the process seems too complicated. All he knows is that he has to run through those doors and convince the prince to not marry the Prefect by any means necessary.
"Deuce!"
He is the one to always come running at the sound of your name. Deuce had been someone you trusted during your stay here in Twisted Wonderland, and you never seemed to stop and think about just how attached that boy was to you. Sure, you held him closely as a friend and held affections for him, but the way he sprinted towards you was a testament to how much he cared.
"Prefect!" You are racing to meet him halfway, launching yourself into his chest. He catches you barreling into his suit, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a protective manner. Then he takes you by the soldiers, looking down at you with such concern and worry. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He fusses, earning a shy smile from you.
"I'm okay, Deuce. I'm okay."
"And what is the meaning of this?"
Catching sight of the infuriated prince, Deuce beckons you to stand behind him. Cerulean eyes narrow onto the groom with animosity, accompanied by the way his hands are itching towards his wand. "I can't let you marry her. The Prefect will be returning to Night Raven College with me." You can sense the nervousness in his tone, but Deuce remains firm in his words.
Pierce's eye twitches, and he scoffed in disbelief at Deuce's protective display. "I am afraid that cannot be possible. I am marrying the Prefect, and that is final." Clicking his tongue, Pierce rolls his eyes and holds out his hand for you to take. "Come, darling. I am not surprised that you have garnered the affections of an admirer, but I fancy you more than this one ever could."
Something in Deuce snaps as he lets out a cry.
"But I love her!"
You stiffen against his back, taken by surprise by Deuce's sudden confession. And the boy glares, and it almost so painful for Pierce to keep his stare, not when there was so much conviction and certainty behind Deuce's voice.
"I've loved her longer than you have, and known her much longer than that!" His voice cracks underneath the emotional turmoil bubbling within him. "Did you even stop to consider what she wants? Did you wonder if this wedding would make her happy in the first place?!"
You take note of how Deuce's fists are clenched pale, how his breaths had suddenly grown haggard. With a soft expression, you curl yourself onto his back, arms hugging him from behind in an attempt to placate him. His body stiffens against your hold, but he reaches to clasp your hands onto his own.
He is just thankful that you aren't seeing the way his eyes had begun to water at the thought of losing you entirely. "So please," He chokes out, expression twisted with a sort of agony.
"Please don't force her to marry you. She deserves so much more than that."
Thanks to the waterworks that Deuce had caused, the wedding was called off. There was just no way that the prince could marry you after Deuce poured his heart out to deter him from wedding you.
It's almost sweet, the way that Deuce lifts you onto the blastcycle and fixes the helmet onto your head. He encourages you to hold onto him tightly as he speeds away from the cathedral, all the more determined to settle you back into NRC.
By the time he's dropped you off at the Ramshackle Dorm, only then does he take the time to bask in how radiant you appeared in a wedding dress. Thinking about his crush in a wedding dress had never crossed Deuce's mind before, but this definitely gave him something to ponder about for the next couple of nights.
You are handing him the helmet, a shy smile surfacing across your features. "Thank you for saving me from that awful wedding." Deuce clears his throat, shifting his gaze as he takes the helmet from your grasp. "I didn't want you to do something you weren't willing to. It just isn't right."
He doesn't realize just how dry his throat as gotten when he cannot bring himself to keep his thoughts to himself. "I love you. I really do, and I wish I said it at a better time." He swallows to himself, letting the embarrassment burn into the back of his head as he recalls his declaration. It was only natural that 'like' would turn into 'love' after being your close confidant for this long, pining quietly during the months spent with you.
You cannot exactly blame him either, not when his feelings were entirely reciprocated. You shift on the balls of your heel, biting onto your lower lip.
And in a swift motion, you lean in to press a chaste kiss against Deuce's warm cheek. You pull away to bask upon the stunned expression on his face, only to give him a shy smile of your own.
"Would you be down to try confessing again tomorrow?"
ACE TRAPPOLA
"BAHAHAHAHA! THERE'S NO WAY THE PREFECT IS GETTING MARRIED. WHO WOULD EVER WANNA MARRY THE PREFECT? PFFFFT, GRIM, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY PULLING MY LEG HERE. YOU EVEN BROUGHT ME A FAKE INVITATION! AIN'T NO WAY THAT SHE— Oh... Wait, really? The wedding is happening right now? ... Oh."
Ace thought you were just messing him again for that one time he said that no one would ever be interested in you. He simply said that to discourage you from trying to pursue a relationship with anyone else, but he didn't mean for you to prove him wrong like that! He never believes Grim until Deuce, Riddle, and the rest of Heartslabyul receive invitations to a wedding that was meant to start in 3 hours.
This is the absolute worst time to be in denial about his feelings. The Prefect wearing a wedding gown is one thing, but another is the fact that the groom is some pompous prince from Royal Sword Academy. Does that guy seriously think he was your type? No way! Ace knows you better than anyone on this campus, so this guy can buzz off!
A part of him did think that you were serious about marrying this stranger. In all fairness, Crowley's allowance pales in comparison to whatever Mr. Money-Bags had over there. He wouldn't blame you if you were marrying the guy for money.
Still, the last thing he wants is for you to be whisked away to who knows where. Ace would never see you again, and as embarrassing as it sounds, he did get very attached to you. Yes, a part of him wants to keep you to himself, but he also values your autonomy here. And if he knew you that well, he knows that you wouldn't want to be married off like this.
"Prefect, I'm here to pick you up."
You are actually surprised by how princely Ace looked in that moment. Dressed in a suit befitting a groom, you could help but feel your breath stolen away once his scarlet eyes were pinned onto yours. You could have been fooled then, and perhaps, Ace did turn into a prince as he marched down the aisle with his arm outstretched for you to take.
Ace never realizes the way a victorious smile creeps onto his face when you break out into a grin, taking the skirt of your dress as you make run for it. The crowd gasps as you crashed into Ace's chest, and he does not hesitate to take a protective stance in front of you. With a haughty laugh, he smirks at the baffled prince. "Who are you?!"
The redhead's arm wraps around your waist, pressing your body closer to his own. "Sorry about that, but I'll be taking your bride indefinitely! Trust me, you'll be severely disappointed after spending one good day with her!" He snickered, much to your horrified expression. You lightly smack at his chest, glaring at him with that pout that he adores so much.
"Hey!" You whine, and Ace simply beams at the prince who hesitantly steps forward. The redhead snorts, rolling his eyes at the crowd that are offended at his immature display. "I'm doing you a great favor here! If you kissed those lips, she'll turn into an ugly green ogre by sunset!"
"HEY!"
Pierce's eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, as if pleading for you to return to his arms. "You'd best return her, boy. We can settle this maturely." Ace does not like the way that these bodyguards are eyeing him, shifting closer and closer as he backed you both towards the venue entrance. He never falters, and neither does that shit-eating grin on his face.
"Sorry, buddy. The clock's struck midnight and all your magic tricks are fading!" He barks. Now, he knows that an escape must be made. The last thing he wants is to have another Eliza-episode. He looks down at you with a wide grin, clasping you arm with a firm squeeze.
Ace sneaks into his pocket, still looking at you. "You know something, Charmant? Maybe not all the magic has gone yet." His hand reveals the Ace of Cards, and it is immediately thrown up into the air.
As the card reached its peak in height, a burst of smoke filled the air, obscuring the magician and yourself from view.
You don't exactly need a signal to start running when your feet began moving on their own, dashing towards the door followed by the Ace's laugh and the prince's demand for guards.
Ace has no white horse, but he has Deuce with his blastcycle! Who knows how the three of you managed to fit on that bike, but you made it work! The guards couldn't exactly catch up in their cars, not when Deuce was dodging vehicles left and right to make this escape. Ace did take one final look back, sticking his tongue out at the defeated prince before you all disappeared around the corner.
Ace gives you his shoes, despite how oversized they may be. You complained about those glass shoes on you, and to 'shut you up', he's given you his runners.
When you make it back to Night Raven College and all the adrenaline has died down, Ace stays by your side the entire time when you explain the entire situation to Crewel and Crowley. He acts so nonchalant about things, even as you both walk all over the campus like groom and bride.
It's a rather odd sight; you in your wedding gown, and Ace right next to you as you both sit on the bench by the Great Seven's statues. Students wandering about at night had given both of you puzzled stares, but no one is ever surprised when they realize it's you and Ace, however.
"Wow, Prefect. Not even a thank you?" He glances at your slightly annoyed expression, throwing his hands up defensively in response. "I was kidding about the ogre stuff! Really!"
You could only roll your eyes at his words, huffing as you crossed your arms across your chest. When you refuse to speak, Ace sticks out his lower lip into a pout as he leans his head onto your shoulder. "Come on, don't be like that. Are you actually that upset about it?"
There is no response from you, not even a glance as your nose is turned away from him. Then Ace sighs, practically clambering over your lap just so that you are forced to look at him. "Prefeeeect, I said I was sorry! What? Do I have to kiss you to make me apology authentic?"
Only then do you look back at him with a raised brow, almost expectant. Ace blinks with surprise, a slight blush creeping to his ears. "For real? You're serious?" He exclaimed, much to your agitation. You sigh even louder as you shove him off your lap, hastily getting up to your feet to leave him behind.
"Wait! Prefect, I said wait!" You feel a hand on your wrist, twirling you back to face the redhead. Ace bites onto his lower lip, unable to keep the red from flooding his cheeks. "I really just said all that mean stuff to get the prince off your back, you know? I didn't think you'd take it so seriously."
And when he sees that smirk creeping up onto your features, he groans as he leans in closely into your space.
"Now look at what you've done! You had me all panicked over what?" You feel his breath tickling your lips, followed by the way his hands crawl up your neck to cradle your jaw.
"If you just wanted a kiss, you could've asked..."
