★Not the best writer, but I've got Grammarly and an imagination.
★I've got no clue how to use Tumblr. I'm trying my best.
★I'm not the best at writing dialogue. Apologies in advance.
── ⋆⋅☆ MY FANDOMS
★Twisted Wonderland
★Obey Me
★Diabolik Lovers
── ⋆⋅☆ REQUESTS
★Feel absolutely free to request anything from any one of the fandoms mentioned above.
★Headcannons only (how the characters would react to certain scenarios) is the main shtick.
── ⋆⋅☆ RULES
★ NSFW is allowed. Regarding Twisted Wonderland, only the canonical adults will be written for these kinds of requests.
★ No incest, non-consensual acts. Nothing on the extreme side (ie watersports and scatplay). ( ._. )""
★ Requests are open at all times, and there is no character limit. It'll take longer, but I will write about all the characters for you. I want everyone to be able to read about their fav.
★ Let's try to keep requests less "The characters react to you as a person," and more scenario-ish or stuff like that, if you catch my drift.
Malleus invites you to spend New Year’s Eve with him like it’s a perfectly normal thing.
Very calm. Very polite. Like he’s not asking something incredibly personal. Like he doesn't know the implications of asking someone to spend this night alone with them.
You’re somewhere quiet. High up. The kind of place where you can see the sky clearly. He says it’s good for observing the passage of time.
The kind of place you can hide from Sebek.
At first, everything feels peaceful. Comfortable. He’s uncharacteristically talkative.
He tells you about traditions. Old ones. Some that don’t exist anymore.
Explains the significance of the new year like it’s a concept he’s known for centuries.
Then he pauses.
“…It is strange,” he says thoughtfully, “to mark time in this way with someone else.” (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)
You can tell he’s thinking hard. Like he wants to say something but doesn’t quite know how to phrase it.
As midnight approaches, he grows quieter. Watches the sky instead of you. You're making him nervous.
“I am… glad you are here,” ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) he says after a moment.
His voice is soft. Almost unsure.
The countdown begins somewhere below. Voices drifting upward to where you two have hidden away.
Five.
Malleus turns toward you. Hesitates. Like he’s unsure if this is allowed. He's a prince; is he allowed to simply kiss you because he wants to?
Three. Two.
At midnight, he leans down and kisses you.
It’s gentle. Careful. Like he’s afraid of doing it wrong.
He's so stiff. His head tilted a bit too far back to make sure his horns don't hit you, even though they wouldn't if he did it normally.
He pulls back slowly, searching your face. He looks a little shook. He can't believe he did it and also wants to make sure you liked it.
Because he liked it so very much.
“…Happy New Year,” he says quietly. “I would like to greet many more with you.” (ㅅ´ ˘ `)
Later, when the night grows still, he stays close.
Because for someone who has all the time in the world, choosing to spend it with you means everything.
── ⋆⋅☆ LILIA VANROUGE
Lilia invites you to spend New Year’s Eve with him like it’s a joke.
Big grin. Light tone. “C’mon, it’ll be fun~”
You should know better. This man is going to get you. Right on the mouth.
The night is cozy. Warm lights. Music playing softly somewhere nearby. Lilia is in an excellent mood.
He jokes the whole time. Teases you. Tells stories from years you’re pretty sure didn’t exist. He's so old.
Every now and then, though, he gets quiet. Just for a second. Like he’s remembering something important.
As midnight creeps closer, he hums under his breath. A tune you don’t recognize. Probably an old-timey lullaby.
“Time’s funny, huh?” he says casually. “Feels fast when you’re enjoying yourself.” (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
The countdown starts in the distance.
Five.
Lilia looks at you, eyes bright but oddly sincere.
“Hey,” he says softly, “Thanks for staying up with me.” (✿◠ᴗ◠)
Three. Two.
At midnight, he kisses you.
It’s quick. Warm. Like something he’s done a thousand times and still wanted to do again.
Fireworks burst across the sky. Lilia laughs quietly, resting his forehead against yours.
“Happy New Year~” he says. “Let’s make this one interesting, yeah?” (¬ᴗ ´¬ )
Later, he goes right back to teasing. He can't help himself.
But when he walks you home, he stays close.
Because even someone who’s seen countless years pass he still treasures moments like this.
── ⋆⋅☆ SILVER
Silver invites you to spend New Year’s Eve with him very politely.
Like he practiced asking. Probably did. He might have asked Lilia to help him, just to make sure he's doing romance correctly.
The night is calm. Cold air. Clear sky. Silver insists it’s good weather for staying awake.
He’s a little tired, obviously. Fighting it. Determined not to fall asleep on you.
He talks about the year honestly. About training. About things he learned. About moments he wants to remember.
Then he pauses.
“…I’m glad you’re here,” （´ ˘｀ ) he says quietly.
His voice is steady, but there’s something shy in it.
As midnight approaches, he shifts his weight, clearly nervous.
“I don’t usually stay up this late,” he admits, “but I wanted to try.” („ᵕᴗᵕ„)
The countdown starts somewhere far away.
Five.
Silver takes a breath. Focuses. Readying himself to put his pretty mouth on yours.
Three. Two.
At midnight, he leans in and kisses you.
It’s gentle. Careful. Like he’s afraid of disturbing the moment.
Fireworks light the sky. Silver pulls back, cheeks warm. Utterly flushed but managing to hide it well.
“…Happy New Year,” he says softly. “I hope I can protect moments like this.” ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)
Later, he does get sleepy.
But he stays with you as long as he can. He stays awake for as long as he can.
Because this? This was worth staying awake for.
── ⋆⋅☆ SEBEK ZIGVOLT
Sebek invites you to spend New Year’s Eve with him like it’s a formal engagement.
“Do try not to be late,” he says, tone clipped but composed. “The evening will be calm, orderly, and ideally enjoyable.” (ㆆ_ㆆ)
At first, it’s exactly that. Quiet, structured, cold air brushing past, the night almost as disciplined as Sebek himself.
He paces slightly, checking the surroundings, adjusting his clothes, and giving precise instructions about where to stand or how to watch the fireworks
Every now and then, he criticizes the wind or the way you're watching the fireworks. Not too loudly. Just enough to remind you he’s always watching.
But you can tell. The small glances he can’t quite mask. The subtle twitch when you move closer.
As midnight nears, he stops fussing entirely. Breathes. Looks at you like he might explode.
“…I suppose,” he says quietly, softer than usual, “I’m… glad you agreed to spend this with me.” ( •̀⤙•́ )
The countdown begins faintly somewhere below.
Five.
He stiffens. Takes a step closer. Hands unclenching.
His voice drops to a murmur. Gentle. Almost shy. “Would… would it be acceptable if I...?” (ᵕ,•ᴗ•)
Three. Two.
At midnight, Sebek leans in and kisses you.
It’s soft. Hesitant but deliberate. All the formal walls fall away, leaving just him.
Fireworks bloom across the sky. He pulls back slowly, face flushed, searching your eyes to make sure you like it.
“…Happy New Year,” he murmurs, voice low and tender. “I… I’m grateful you’re here.” (˶˃⤙˂˶)
A night where he really gets to get dressed up. Not just the usual Vil glam.
When he invites you, it’s not casual. It’s deliberate. He expects you to look stunning.
You do.
The night is immaculate. Soft lighting. Perfectly chosen music. Everything curated to the last detail.
Vil watches the countdown approach in the mirror rather than the clock. Adjusts his gloves. Smooths your sleeve when he thinks you’re not paying attention.
He gets a little extra touchy. Like he's preparing you for something along the lines of a kiss on the mouth.
He talks about the year with poise. About growth. About shedding what no longer serves you.
Then he looks at you, really looks. His beauty is intimidating.
“You’ve changed this year,” he says softly. “And not just your appearance.” ( ᵕ ᴗ ᵕ )
Midnight approaches. Fireworks ready to bloom. Vil ready to make his perfectly planned move.
The countdown begins.
Five.
Vil turns fully toward you, expression serious but warm.
“Whatever this next year brings,” he says, voice low, “I intend to face it beautifully.”
Three. Two.
At midnight, he cups your face and kisses you. he kisses you like he knows you'll love it.
It’s graceful. He always is.
Fireworks explode. Vil pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, smiling. Not a camera-practiced smile, though it does look that way.
“Happy New Year,” he says. “Stay with me. We'll make this year a beautiful one.” (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)
Later, he won’t call it a tradition.
But he’ll make sure you’re there again next year, perfect, poised, and chosen by him.
── ⋆⋅☆ ROOK HUNT
Rook lives for New Year’s Eve.
A perfect intersection of time, fate, and beauty. So many people are not paying attention to their surroundings.
When he invites you, it’s with a flourish. A smile that promises theatrics.
The night is spent somewhere scenic. High ground. A view worth admiring. Rook insists it’s important that you see the fireworks from this view.
He talks endlessly. About the year. About moments worth cherishing. About how beauty reveals itself when you pay attention. About beauty and nonsense.
And he pays very close attention to you with those crazy hunter eyes of his.
As midnight nears, he grows quieter. Focused. Almost reverent.
He looks at you like you’re the final masterpiece of the year. Like you hung the moon.
“My dear,” he says softly, “Do you feel it? The anticipation in the air?” (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ
The countdown begins in the distance.
Five.
Rook steps closer, eyes bright. Intentions so very clear for once.
“This moment,” he murmurs, “is simply too beautiful to waste.” ♡⸜(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶)⸝♡
Three. Two.
At midnight, he kisses you, right on the mouth.
It’s dramatic. Intentional. Like a confession wrapped in poetry. Prepare for a monologue about how perfect it was.
Fireworks burst across the sky. Rook pulls back, smiling like he just witnessed something divine. Smiling like he's about to do it again. >:D
“Happy New Year,” he says warmly. “Let us continue to admire each other endlessly.” ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
Later, he watches you like the celebration isn’t the sky. It’s you.
── ⋆⋅☆ EPEL FELMIER
Epel acts like New Year’s Eve doesn’t matter.
“‘S just another night,” (¬､¬) he says, shrugging like it’s nothing.
But he still invites you. But he tries so very hard to be cool about it.
The celebration is small. Quiet. Warm. Something simple that reminds him of home. He manages to escape Vil's watch for tonight.
He keeps his hands in his pockets most of the night. Kicks at the ground. Acts casual. Acts country.
He talks about the year honestly. About things that surprised him. Things that were harder than he expected. 'bout being a good, honest country man.
Then he gets quiet.
As midnight approaches, he looks nervous. Keeps glancing at the clock like it personally offended him.
“Tch… why’s it gotta feel so important?” (⩌_⩌) he mutters.
The countdown starts.
Five.
Epel takes a breath. Straightens his posture like he’s bracing himself. He's gonna kiss you know... okay?
Three. Two.
At midnight, he leans in and kisses you.
It’s quick. A little clumsy. But real. Probably misses your mouth a little because he's so nervous.
Fireworks pop in the distance. Epel pulls back fast, ears burning.
“…Happy New Year,” he says, voice soft. “Hope I can… do better this year.” (˶˃⤙˂˶)
Later, he pretends it didn’t mean that much.
But the way he smiles when he thinks you’re not looking tells you everything you need to know. He was so manly.
── ⋆⋅☆ IGNIHYDE - NEW YEARS KISS
── ⋆⋅☆ IDIA SHROUD
Idia does not do New Year’s Eve.
Too loud. Too social. Too many emotions per square meter. Stop it right now, he's overwhelmed.
So when he invites you to spend it with him, it’s… weirdly serious.
Like he debated it for weeks.
You’re in his room. Dim lights. Screens glowing. No countdown parties, just the hum of machines and distant fireworks outside.
Idia keeps pretending to focus on his monitor. He is failing. He's practically vibrating. Because what do you mean you two are alone in his room?
He rambles. About games. About how the year went statistically. About how time is a social construct anyway.
Then he stops.
“…Okay, don’t laugh,” he says suddenly. “I kinda wanted you here.” (ó﹏ò｡)
Midnight approaches. You can hear muffled cheers from somewhere outside Ignihyde.
The countdown starts faintly. Just a few students a little far away.
Five.
Idia’s hands fidget. He doesn’t look at you. Looks like he's about to start sweating and shit himself.
Three. Two.
At midnight, he blurts out, “W-Wait-” (⸝⸝⸝>﹏<⸝⸝⸝)
And then he kisses you.
It’s brief. Awkward. Definitely not planned right. Definitely smashes his mouth against yours. Be nice, it's his first time.
Fireworks flash through the window. Idia immediately pulls back, face on fire. Hair bright pink.
“H-Happy New Year,” he stammers. “Th-that was… optional. You can pretend it didn’t happen.” (⸝⸝⸝-﹏-⸝⸝⸝)
Later, he absolutely replays it in his head like a cutscene. Rethinks everything about it but ultimately decides it was so very worth it.
Fireworks! Music! People! Celebrating just because you can!
So when he invites you to spend it with him, he’s visibly excited. Practically bouncing.
"You have to come over to Scarabia! We're throwing a party!"
The night is bright. Colorful lights everywhere. Food laid out like a feast. Music playing softly in the background.
Kalim keeps checking in on you.
Are you having fun? Do you want more food? Did you see the decorations?
He talks about the year with genuine enthusiasm. About friends made. Adventures had. Lessons learned. Jamil.
And then, without any hesitation, he says how glad he is you were part of it. Big ol' smile on his face.
Midnight creeps up fast. The countdown starts, and Kalim is all in. He's on you.
Ten! Nine!
He grabs your hands, eyes sparkling. So ready to kiss you.
Five!
He laughs. Spinning you just a little. Bringing you in nice and close.
Three! Two!
At midnight, he kisses you, happy and full of joy. Like he just found his new favourite thing to do.
Fireworks light up the sky. Kalim pulls back laughing, forehead resting against yours.
“Happy New Year!” ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ he says, like it’s the best thing in the world.
After that, he hugs you tight. Doesn’t let go. Doesn’t want to.
He definitely drags you around after, pampering you more than normal.
Tells everyone you two were each other's New Year's kiss. Even Jamil who sighs, knowing he has to deal with a lovestruck Kalim.
── ⋆⋅☆ JAMIL VIPER
Jamil does not make a big deal out of New Year’s Eve.
It’s just another night. Another marker of time moving whether you’re ready or not.
He doesn't ask you, no, you'll have to be the one to invite him.
So when he agrees to spend it with you, it’s understated. No excitement. No expectations. He lets you know he's going to be busy cooking and watching Kalim.
The evening is energetic in Scarabia, thanks to Kalim. Bright lights and music.
Jamil keeps himself busy. Straightening things that don’t need fixing. Making sure everything is in order. Keeping an eye on Kalim. But he makes sure to pay attention to you, too.
He talks about the year carefully. About responsibility. About things he had to do. Like Kalim.
Things he chose to do. Like you.
He doesn’t mention hopes for the next year. Not directly. He doesn't want to be too cheesy.
But when he thanks you for staying, really staying, you hear it. His whole not being cheesy thing is going out the window.
As midnight approaches, he grows quiet. Still. Like he’s bracing himself.
The countdown starts somewhere distant. He's deep in thought.
Five.
Jamil exhales slowly. Looks at you like he’s making a decision.
Three. Two.
At midnight, he kisses you. He smells so good.
It’s restrained. Gentle. But intentional. Like something he’s wanted to do for a long time and finally allowed himself.
Fireworks flare outside. Jamil pulls back, eyes unreadable for a moment. He looks around to make sure nobody, namely Kalim, saw what he just did.
“…Happy New Year,” he says softly. “Thank you… for choosing to be here.” (ᴗ_ ᴗ。)
Later, he doesn’t linger on it. Doesn’t explain.
But he stays with you the rest of the night. Now holding your hand as you walk with him to check things.
The symbolism. The opportunity. The money he could make.
So when he invites you, it’s positioned as a private celebration.
Exclusive. Elegant. Controlled.
The Mostro Lounge is closed for the night. Lights dim. Candles glowing. Everything exactly how he planned it.
He plays the perfect host. Smooth words. Polished smile. Hands steady as he pours your drink.
Except, every so often, he adjusts his glasses.
You notice. You always notice. He's not as slick as he thinks he is.
He talks about the year like it was a series of calculated risks. Deals made. Lessons learned.
Then he mentions you.
Not smoothly. Just… drops it into the conversation like he didn’t rehearse that part enough. He mentally slaps himself across the face for not being suave.
He clears his throat. Changes topics. Pretends he didn’t just get flustered.
Midnight creeps closer. Azul checks the clock. Then checks it again.
Laughs quietly at himself for looking so obvious.
“Apologies,” he says. “I don’t usually get… distracted.” (ᴗ_ ᴗ。)
The countdown starts somewhere far away.
Five.
He steps closer. Hesitates. Fingers twitch at his side. He doesn't know what to do with his hands.
Three. Two.
Right at midnight, he leans in and kisses you. So slow you'd think he was scared of you.
It’s still slow. Still deliberate. But there’s a brief pause, just enough to show he’s nervous.
Fireworks bloom in the windows. Azul pulls back, cheeks warm, smile softer and far less practiced.
“…Happy New Year,” (⸝⸝⸝-﹏-⸝⸝⸝) he says, voice quieter than usual.
He adjusts his glasses again. Avoids your eyes for half a second.
Later, he’ll pretend it went exactly as planned.
But you know better. At least he didn't fumble too badly.
── ⋆⋅☆ JADE LEECH
Jade treats New Year’s Eve like an experiment. You are the subject. :D
A moment worth observing. Measuring. Enjoying.
When he invites you, it’s polite. Almost casual. “I thought you might enjoy a quieter celebration.” (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
The Mostro Lounge is closed. Again. Candlelight reflecting off glass and water. The atmosphere is… intentional.
Jade is in an excellent mood. Smiling. Attentive. Calm in that unsettling way he has.
He asks about your year. Listens carefully. Remembers everything.
When he talks about his own, he’s vague. Mentions curiosity. Change. New interests.
You.
He doesn’t say it outright. He doesn’t need to. You get the message.
As midnight approaches, he grows a little more focused. His gaze lingers. Head tilts slightly, like he’s watching something fascinating.
He knows you know he's going to kiss you. He enjoys watching you squirm.
The countdown begins somewhere distant.
Five.
Jade steps closer. Close enough that you feel his presence before you see it.
Three. Two.
At midnight, he cups your face and kisses you.
It’s slow. Intimate. Intentionally unhurried. Like he’s savoring your reaction more than the act itself.
He pulls back just enough to smile.
“Happy New Year,” he says softly. “I look forward to observing what comes next.” (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
Later, he stays near you. Always just within reach.
── ⋆⋅☆ FLOYD LEECH
Floyd does not care about New Year’s Eve.
Until he does.
He invites you to hang out because he’s bored. That’s it. That’s the reason.
The Mostro Lounge is closed, again. It’s quiet in a way Floyd doesn’t usually tolerate, but he sticks around anyway. Only because you're here.
He’s restless. Pacing. Leaning too close. Drifting away and coming back like a tide.
One minute he’s joking, the next he’s staring at you like he’s trying to figure something out.
He asks what you’re doing at midnight. Then immediately says it doesn’t matter.
As the time gets closer, he gets… weird.
Not loud-weird. Focused-weird.
The countdown starts somewhere else. Voices echoing.
Leona doesn’t make a big deal out of New Year’s Eve.
Actually, he barely acknowledges it.
When he suggests you spend the night with him, it’s phrased like an afterthought.
“Got nothin’ better to do, right?” ( ¬⤙¬ )
You do. You could have tortured Ace. You choose him anyway.
The night is quiet. No parties. No countdown prep. Just the two of you somewhere comfortable, warm, and dimly lit. Maybe his room if he's feeling bold enough.
Leona lounges like time itself is optional. One arm draped behind you. Eyes half-lidded. Acting like midnight means absolutely nothing.
He does not check the time. He does not mention the year ending. He does not mention perhaps putting his lips on yours.
But he does talk. Low and unguarded. About things he doesn’t usually say out loud.
About wasted time. About chances. About things he might want, if they were worth the effort.
You’re sitting close enough to feel the heat from him. He pretends not to notice.
At some point, distant cheers echo from far away.
“That so?” he mutters. “Guess it’s almost midnight.” "( – ⌓ – )
No countdown. No warning.
He tilts your chin up with two fingers and kisses you like he’s been thinking about it all year.
Slow. Unhurried. Confident.
Fireworks go off somewhere in the distance. He doesn’t look.
When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours.
“…Happy New Year,” he says, voice low and rough.
Later, he won’t talk about it.
But he keeps you close for the rest of the night. Definitely cuddles you and tries to act like it doesn't make his heart race.
── ⋆⋅☆ RUGGIE BUCCHI
Ruggie is very aware it’s New Year’s Eve.
Because New Year’s Eve means parties. Parties mean food. And food means opportunity.
So when he asks you to hang out, it’s under the excuse of 'keeping him company while he scopes things out.'
Sure. Totally believable.
He’s in a great mood all night. Snacking. Joking. Complaining about prices. Stealing food off plates like it’s a sport and he is the winner.
Every now and then, though, he checks the time.
Not obvious. Just quick glances. Like he’s pretending he doesn’t care.
He sticks close to you. Shoulder bumps. Leaning in to whisper jokes. Acts like it’s just convenience.
You catch him staring once. He looks away immediately. Busted.
As midnight gets closer, the crowds get louder. Fireworks being set up. People starting the countdown early.
Ruggie sighs. “Man, people really hype this stuff up, huh?” (⚆ ₋ ⚆)
But he doesn’t leave.
Ten. Nine.
He cracks a joke. Voice lighter than usual.
Five.
He goes quiet. Hands shoved into his pockets. Tail definitely giving him away.
Three. Two.
At midnight, he grabs your collar and kisses you before you can say anything.
It’s quick. Warm. Just a little desperate. Definitely feels like he doesn't know what he's doing.
Fireworks go off. People cheer. Ruggie pulls back fast, cheeks red, pretending not to look at you.
“…Happy New Year,” he mutters.
Later, he’ll laugh it off. Say it was just good timing, But he stays by your side the rest of the night.
── ⋆⋅☆ JACK HOWL
Jack takes New Year’s Eve seriously.
Not in a party way. In a personal accountability way.
When he asks you to spend it with him, it’s straightforward. No excuses. No jokes.
“I want to start the year right.” (• _ •)
You agree. Because of course you do, just look at him.
The night is quiet. Cold air. Clear sky. Jack insists on going somewhere you can see the fireworks properly. It's safer and easier to kiss you in private.
He stands next to you like he’s guarding something important. Hands clasped. Posture perfect.
He talks about the year honestly. About training harder. Doing better. Being someone dependable.
Then he thanks you. Directly. No dancing around it.
As midnight gets closer, he grows tense. Like he’s bracing himself. He's getting ready. He trained for this mentally.
You ask if he’s okay. He nods. Too quickly.
The countdown starts. Distant voices echoing.
Ten. Nine.
Jack takes a breath. Deep. Steady.
Five.
He turns toward you fully. Serious. Determined.
Three. Two.
At midnight, he leans down and kisses you. His tail wagging slowly but surely.
It’s firm. Careful. Like a promise he intends to keep.
Fireworks light up the sky. Jack pulls back, ears red, jaw set like he’s holding himself together.
“…Happy New Year,” („• ֊ •„) he says, voice low but sure.
After that, he relaxes. Just a little.
He walks you back. Stays close. Keeps glancing at you like he can’t quite believe he did that.
Too loud. Too unstructured. Too many people are doing things without written permission. Please, they aren't following the rules.
So when he invites you to spend it with him, it’s framed as 'observing the holiday in a more orderly manner.'
Meaning: he wants to be with you, but he can't just say that now, can he?
Heartslabyul is oddly calm that night. No parties. No chaos. Just soft lights, quiet halls, and the distant sound of someone else having fun elsewhere.
Because Riddle has made it that way.
You’re with him in the garden, because of course you are. He says it’s to “reflect on the year.”
You know better.
He keeps checking the time. Casually. Totally normal. Definitely not every five minutes.
Every time the clock ticks closer to midnight, he gets stiffer. Like he’s bracing for impact.
You tease him about it. He denies everything immediately. Too quickly.
He starts talking. About resolutions. About goals. About how this year was… productive.
Then, very softly, he thanks you for being part of it.
That’s when you realize.
Midnight approaches. You can hear distant cheering from somewhere across the grounds.
Riddle goes quiet.
Then, very formal, he says something like, “There is a custom associated with the New Year that symbolizes good fortune.” (ᵕ • - •)
He absolutely does not look at you when he says this.
He clears his throat. Mentally reviews the plan. Probably panics.
And then, right as the clock strikes twelve, he finally looks up.
The kiss is brief. Gentle. Like he’s afraid he’s doing something wrong even though he’s doing it perfectly.
His face is bright red. Entirely ruined. No recovery.
Afterward, he immediately apologizes. For what? He doesn’t know. He just feels like he should. :/
You assure him he did fine. More than fine.
He spends the rest of the night flustered, quietly happy, and absolutely convinced this is the best way the year could have possibly started.
He hopes he gets to do it again next year. He hopes you'll stick around.
── ⋆⋅☆ TREY CLOVER
Trey invites you to spend New Year’s Eve with him like it’s no big deal.
Just a quiet night. Maybe some dessert. Nothing fancy.
You should have known better.
Heartslabyul is relaxed for once. There’s food laid out, candles lit, and Trey acting like this is just another casual evening.
He hands you something sweet he 'just threw together.' It’s perfect. Obviously.
Unlike Riddle, Trey is not checking the time obsessively. Which is suspicious.
He chats. Easy. Warm. Teases you a little. Makes you laugh. Acts like midnight isn’t rapidly approaching.
Every now and then, though, he looks at you like he’s thinking something over. Like he’s deciding.
As the night gets quieter, he suggests stepping outside.
“Fresh air,” (⚈ ₋ ⚈) he says.
You go. Because of course you do.
The garden is calm, lights glowing softly, distant sounds of celebration echoing somewhere far away.
Trey leans on the railing next to you. Comfortable. Close.
He talks about the year. About how busy it was. About how some things turned out better than he expected.
Then he says, very casually, “I’m glad you were here for it.”
You feel that one land.
The countdown starts somewhere in the distance.
Ten. Nine.
Trey turns toward you. Finally serious. Just for a second.
Three. Two.
He kisses you at midnight like he planned it weeks ago. Because he did.
No panic. No hesitation.
When he pulls back, he smiles like he got exactly what he wanted.
“Happy New Year,” ¬‿¬ he says, like that wasn’t just everything.
After that, he’s back to normal. Light teasing. Easy warmth. Like he didn’t just completely reset your expectations for the year.
Later, when you’re alone, you realize he timed the whole night perfectly.
And the worst part? He’ll never admit it.
── ⋆⋅☆ CATER DIAMOND
Cater invites you to spend New Year’s Eve with him and somehow makes it sound like the most casual thing in the world.
hi hi can l request twst boys with a reader like be around them because they smell like home(can you write this with Vil , Sebek and Malleus please? since they mine fav:3)
── ⋆⋅☆ HOUSEWARDENS + SEBEK - THEY SMELL LIKE HOME
── ⋆⋅☆ AUTHORS NOTE So I'm back. I'm gonna be cooking up lots of special posts for New Year's Day (wink, wink), so things might still be slow. They'll be scheduled posts cause I figured out how to do that. I forgot to put it in the title, but Jamil is here too.
── ⋆⋅☆ RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
Riddle invites you over to Heartslabyul again. Tea, of course. Maybe a walk if the weather is nice. It’s nothing special. You’ve done this a hundred times.
And yet, the moment you step inside, you feel it.
It’s the smell again.
You don’t say anything at first, because how do you even bring that up without sounding unhinged? But the dorm always smells the same when he’s around.
Like safety. Like order. Like home, somehow.
Riddle notices you relax almost immediately. Your shoulders drop. Your breathing evens out.
He clocks it with the same sharp awareness he uses to catch rule violations, except this time it makes him pause.
“Is something the matter?” (╭ರ_•́) he asks, already concerned.
You shake your head. “No. Just… comfortable.”
He accepts that answer, but you can tell it sticks with him.
You walk in the garden as usual. He points out the roses, recites their care schedule, and corrects himself twice because he’s talking too fast.
He’s a little more fidgety than normal, smoothing his gloves, adjusting his collar.
You drift closer without thinking. Just a step. Then another.
Riddle stiffens for half a second, then forces himself to relax. He smells faintly of tea leaves and roses and British, I guess.
Eventually, you say it. Softly. Like it’s not a big deal.
“You smell like home.”
He stops walking.
Fully. Completely. Like someone hit pause.
He turns to you, face heating up instantly. “I-I beg your pardon?”
You repeat it, a little embarrassed now. “I just… feel calmer around you. That’s all.”
Riddle opens his mouth. Closes it. Mentally combusts.
This was not in the rehearsal.
He clears his throat, adjusts his posture, and very carefully says, “I’m… glad. If my presence brings you comfort, then I- I suppose that’s… good.” (¬⤙¬ )
He sounds composed. He is absolutely not.
Later, after you leave, he will sit on his bed, replay those words over and over, heart doing something ridiculous in his chest.
Home, you said.
And he smiles himself to sleep.
── ⋆⋅☆ LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
Leona invites you over to Savannaclaw.
Well. “Invites” is generous. He mentions you can stop by if you want, half-asleep, like it’s not a big deal. You go anyway.
Savannaclaw always smells the same. It’s sharp, loud, very Leona. And somehow… the second you’re near him, it settles into something softer.
Leona’s sprawled somewhere comfortable when you find him, jacket shrugged off, eyes half-lidded like he just woke up from a nap he didn’t want to end.
“Tch. You’re early,” he says. You’re not.
You sit near him. Not too close. At first.
There’s this warmth around him. Like the sun through a window you forgot was there.
He smells like clean clothes, warm fur, and whatever soap he actually remembers to use. It hits you all at once, and without thinking, you relax.
Leona notices immediately.
“You gonna say what that sigh was about, or…?” ( •̀ - • ) he asks, eye cracked open.
You shrug. “You smell nice.”
He snorts. “Yeah? Took a shower. Big achievement.”
“No,” you say, shaking your head. “You smell like… home.”
That gets him.
He goes still. Like, fully still. One eye opens, sharp now, studying you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking. You’re not.
“…That’s a weird thing to say,” (¬_ ´¬ ) he mutters, but there’s no bite to it.
You don’t push. You just stay there. Leona exhales slowly, like he’s letting himself relax on purpose.
“Tch,” he says after a minute. “Guess that means you’re not leavin’ anytime soon.”
You don’t argue.
Later, he won’t say anything about it. He’ll pretend it didn’t affect him. But next time you show up, he’ll make sure you sit close.
Just in case you need to feel at home again.
── ⋆⋅☆ AZUL ASHENGROTTO
Azul invites you to the Mostro Lounge, which already tells you everything you need to know.
There’s no ulterior motive. Definitely not. Absolutely not a setup. He just… wants to see you. Totally normal business hours friendship activity.
The lounge smells like polished wood, coffee, and the faintest hint of saltwater that never quite goes away cause they're fishies.
It’s nice. Warm. Controlled. Very Azul.
You find him behind the counter, perfectly put together as always. He looks up when you arrive and smiles that practiced, charming smile.
“Welcome,” he says. “Your usual?”
You nod, and the second you sit down, you feel it. Your shoulders drop. Your breathing evens out. Something in you unclenches like you didn’t realize it was clenched in the first place.
Azul notices immediately.
“…Are you feeling unwell?” ( •᷄ᴗ•́) he asks, already halfway to concerned. “You’ve gone very quiet.”
“No,” you say. “Actually… this is nice.”
He hums, clearly suspicious.
He brings your drink over himself (which means this is Important), sets it down carefully, and lingers a little too long. You lean forward without thinking, resting your chin on your hand.
“It smells good in here,” you say. “Like home.”
That was not the correct dialogue option. STOP.
Azul freezes mid-adjustment of his gloves. Slowly, slowly, he looks at you over the rim of his glasses.
“…Home?” he repeats.
You nod, completely serious. “Yeah. You, the lounge. It’s comforting.”
There’s a full five seconds where his brain is buffering.
“Oh,” he says finally. “I- well- that’s-”
He clears his throat and straightens up, trying very hard to look professional and failing just a little. “I’m… glad my establishment meets your emotional needs.” ( ╹ -╹)?
You laugh. He flushes.
For the rest of the evening, he keeps hovering. Refilling your drink before it’s empty. Adjusting the lights. Making sure the lounge smells exactly the same.
Later, he’ll absolutely overthink it. Home, you said.
And somehow, that word will stick with him far longer than any contract ever has.
── ⋆⋅☆ KALIM AL ASIM
Kalim invites you over to Scarabia, which means he’s already halfway through greeting you before you’ve even fully stepped inside. Big smile, arms open, energy at a solid ten out of ten.
“There you are!” he says, like you weren’t expected and eagerly anticipated at the same time. “Come on, you have to try this new tea Jamil helped make- oh! And the cushions are new!” ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ )
Scarabia smells like warm spices, sweet tea, and sun-warmed fabric. It hits you the second you walk in, and without realizing it, you breathe a little deeper.
You settle onto the cushions. Kalim drops down next to you, close in that very Kalim way where personal space is a suggestion.
He’s chatting happily, gesturing with his hands, absolutely glowing.
And then you relax. Like, really relax.
Kalim notices immediately.
“Oh!” he says, pausing mid-sentence. “Did I say something wrong? You got really quiet.”
“No,” you say quickly. “Just… comfortable.”
That makes him smile even wider, if that’s possible.
You glance around, then back at him. “Scarabia smells like home.”
Kalim blinks.
Once. Twice.
“…Home?” he repeats, voice soft now, like he’s afraid to mess the word up.
“Yeah,” you say. “Being here. Being around you. It’s nice.”
His ears turn red. Actually red. He laughs, a little flustered, and rubs the back of his neck.
“I, wow,” he says. “That’s… really nice to hear.”
He scoots a little closer, shoulder brushing yours, clearly pleased but trying not to make it obvious.
He pours you more tea, even though you’re nowhere near finished, and hands it over like it’s the most important task in the world.
“If this feels like home,” he says brightly, “then you can come over whenever you want! Like anytime. No knocking. Ever.” (,,>ヮ<,,)!
And later, when you leave, he’ll sit there for a while, still smiling, thinking about how he might be someone’s home.
He likes that thought a lot.
── ⋆⋅☆ JAMIL VIPER
Jamil doesn’t invite you over to Scarabia.
He tells you you’re allowed to stay. Which is basically the same thing, except with more rules and less enthusiasm.
“You can sit there,” he says, already busy with something in the kitchen. “Don’t touch anything.”
You sit. You don’t touch anything. You just… exist.
Scarabia smells different when Jamil’s around. Less incense, less sweetness. More spices, warm tea, clean fabric, something steady underneath it all.
You hadn’t realized how tired you were until you feel it leave your shoulders.
Jamil notices, because of course he does.
“You look too relaxed,” he says, glancing over. “What did you do?” (≖_≖ )
“Nothing,” you reply. “I just… like being here.”
He hums, unconvinced, but doesn’t push.
You drift closer without thinking, leaning against the counter while he works. The smell follows him, spices, soap, something familiar you can’t quite place.
“You smell like home,” you say.
There’s a clatter. A pause.
Jamil freezes mid-motion. Slowly, he turns to look at you like he’s deciding whether you’re joking. You’re not.
“…Don’t say things like that so casually,” (//ㆆ_ㆆ//) he mutters, but his voice is quieter now.
“Why?” you ask.
He looks away, jaw tight. “Because you don’t know what that means to someone.”
You’re silent. You let the moment sit.
Eventually, he exhales and goes back to what he was doing, movements a little less sharp. He slides a cup of tea toward you without looking.
hnngh he's so nonchalant.
“Stay,” he says, like it’s an order. Like it’s not a request at all.
Later, he’ll pretend it didn’t affect him. But next time you’re tired, he’ll make sure he's nearby.
── ⋆⋅☆ VIL SHOENHEIT
Vil invites you to Pomefiore under the excuse of 'helping him choose between two skincare formulations.'
This is a lie. He already knows which one he’s using. You are here for vibes, sweetie.
Pomefiore smells expensive. Clean air, florals that aren’t overpowering, polished marble, something crisp and cool that makes you straighten your posture automatically.
Vil notices you do that. Of course he does.
“Relax,” he says, amused. “You’re allowed to breathe.” (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
You follow him inside, watch him move through the space like he belongs there (because he does), and somewhere between him adjusting a mirror and criticizing the lighting, it hits you.
You feel… settled.
It’s not loud. It’s not dramatic. It’s just that familiar, grounding warmth in your chest. Like everything is in its place for once.
You sit. You exhale. You stop tweaking.
Vil pauses mid-routine.
“…You’ve gone quiet,” he says, glancing at you through the mirror. “That usually means something.”
You shrug. “This place smells nice.”
He hums. “Obviously.”
“No,” you say, correcting gently. “It smells like home.”
That gets his attention.
He turns fully now, studying you like he’s trying to figure out whether you mean it or if this is some elaborate attempt at flattery. His expression softens just a fraction when he realizes you’re serious.
“Home,” he repeats slowly.
You nod. “Yeah. Pomefiore... you.”
Vil looks away, clears his throat, and pretends to inspect a product he absolutely does not need to inspect.
“…Well,” he says carefully, “that’s because I maintain an environment worth returning to.” (ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ)
You smile. He sees it in the mirror and pointedly ignores it.
For the rest of the visit, he adjusts the temperature, the lighting, the scent levels, subtle things, but intentional.
When you lean back, comfortable, he allows himself a small, satisfied smile.
Later, he’ll think about it longer than he wants to admit.
Home.
And if that’s what he’s built, then he’ll protect it.
── ⋆⋅☆ IDIA SHROUD
Idia does not invite you over.
You are summoned. Via text. At 2 a.m.
Idia: come to my room
Idia: pls
Idia: it’s not weird I just
Idia: need you here
You go, because you’re weak and because you care.
His room smells like warm electronics, fabric softener, and instant noodles. It’s a lot. Somehow, it works.
Idia is hunched over his desk when you arrive, hair glowing softly, hoodie two sizes too big.
He glances back, visibly relaxes when he sees it’s you.
“Oh, thank the Gamer Gods,” he mutters. “Okay. Sit. Don’t touch anything. Actually, you can touch the chair. That’s fine.”
You sit. You don’t touch anything else.
After a minute, you realize something weird: you’re comfortable. Like, really comfortable. Your shoulders drop. Your brain quiets. You hadn’t noticed how loud everything else was until now.
Idia notices immediately.
“…Why do you look like that,” he says, suspicious. “You’re smiling. Are you plotting something?”
“No,” you say. “Your room smells like home.”
Silence.
Full system crash.
Idia freezes mid-keystroke, screen flickering as his brain absolutely blue-screens. “S-Stop saying things like that???” he yelps, voice cracking. “That’s- that’s an emotional crit hit!” =͟͟͞͞(꒪ᗜ꒪‧̣̥̇)
You shrug. “I like being here. With you.”
He turns bright blue. Like, actually glowing brighter.
“I- I mean- okay- but-” He hides his face in his sleeves, then peeks out at you. “…You can stay. If you want. Permanently. Not permanently. I mean- tonight. Just tonight.” (｡﹏｡")
He scoots his chair closer to you, pretending it’s for 'screen-sharing purposes.'
Later, when you’re comfortable and quiet, he’ll think about that word.
Home.
And for the first time in a long while, his room doesn’t feel like a hideout.
It feels like somewhere someone wants to be.
── ⋆⋅☆ MALLEUS DRACONIA
Malleus invites you for a walk around Diasomnia, which sounds ominous until you realize he’s genuinely excited about it. Like, excited excited.
He’s already waiting when you arrive, hands folded neatly, eyes lighting up the second he sees you.
“You came,” （´ ˘｀ ) he says, like there was ever any doubt.
Diasomnia smells like cool stone, night air, old magic, and rain that hasn’t fallen yet.
It should feel intimidating. Ancient. A little cursed, even. Instead… it’s quiet. Steady. Calm.
You walk beside him, your footsteps echoing softly. Malleus points things out as you go, gargoyles, towers, bits of history you’ve heard before.
You don’t mind. His voice is low and gentle, like he’s letting you in on a secret.
At some point, you realize you’re leaning closer to him without thinking. The warmth around him is subtle but constant, like standing near a fireplace that doesn’t crackle.
He also feels powerful, which makes you feel safe.
You relax. Fully. Like your body finally decided it’s safe to power down.
Malleus notices.
“You are quieter than usual, child of man,” he says, glancing at you with mild concern. “Are you ill?” (•᷄- •᷅ ;)
“No,” you say honestly. “I just… like being here.”
That makes him pause.
You hesitate, then add, “You smell like home.”
Silence.
Malleus stops walking.
He turns to you slowly, eyes wide in that soft, surprised way that means you’ve said something important without meaning to. “…Home?” he repeats, like he’s testing the word.
You nod, suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah. Being around you feels… familiar. Safe.”
For a moment, he doesn’t speak. Then his expression warms, something gentle settling into it.
“I have lived a very long time,” he says quietly. “And I have rarely been called that.” (ㅅ´ ˘ `)
He resumes walking, but this time, he offers you his arm. You take it.
Later, long after you’ve gone, Malleus will stand alone in Diasomnia, hand resting where you held onto him.
── ⋆⋅☆ SEBEK ZIGVOLT
Sebek does not invite you over.
You just… end up in Diasomnia again. Somehow. For the sake of the plot.
He sees you first, obviously, because he is always on high alert, standing at attention like he’s guarding the concept of loyalty itself.
“YOU’RE HERE,” he announces, unnecessarily loud. “GOOD. YOU MAY ACCOMPANY ME.” ヽ(°〇°)ﾉ
That’s it. That’s the invitation.
He smells like soap that he probably uses too much of. It’s sharp at first. Very Sebek. But when you walk beside him long enough, it settles into something steady and familiar.
You don’t realize how close you’ve gotten until you sigh. A full-body, end-of-day sigh. You know the type.
Sebek freezes.
“WHY DID YOU DO THAT,” he demands, turning on you like you just triggered a security alarm. “ARE YOU UNWELL?” (๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭
“No,” you say. “Just comfortable.”
He squints at you, suspicious. You keep walking.
A few steps later, without thinking, you say, “You smell like home.”
Oh.
Oh no.
Sebek stops so hard you almost walk into him.
“WHAT,” he says. Not loud this time. Just stunned.
You blink. “I mean, being around you is calming. Familiar. Like… yeah. Home.”
He opens his mouth. Closes it. Mentally explodes.
“H-HOME?!” he yells, immediately ruining the moment. “I- I AM A PROTECTOR OF LORD MALLEUS, NOT- NOT A SCENT.” Σ(°△° ꪱꪱꪱ)
“I didn’t mean it like that,” you say quickly.
He straightens, fists clenched, clearly trying to regain composure. “ IF MY PRESENCE MAKES YOU FEEL SAFE, THEN THAT IS… ACCEPTABLE.”
That is the nicest thing he has ever said.
For the rest of the walk, he positions himself just slightly closer to you. Subtle. Barely noticeable. Definitely intentional.
Later, he will replay your words over and over, heart pounding, wondering how something as simple as home could feel heavier than any oath he’s ever sworn.
He walks a little straighter after that.
Just in case you’re watching. He's gotta look good for you.
Hiii! I don't usually do asks, but I saw your post about the om! characters getting jealous (ate it uppp btw🩷🩷), and I thought it would be so interesting to see how they'd react if mc got jealous( •͈ᴗ•͈). Just a thought if you're up to it, I rlly enjoy your writing!<3
── ⋆⋅☆ OBEY ME - YOU'RE JEALOUS
── ⋆⋅☆ AUTHORS NOTE - I'm so sick right now, like, to the point of delirium, and I'm still going to work cuz I love money. So that's why I was gone. Things will be slow until I can keep my eyes open for longer than five hours.
── ⋆⋅☆ LUCIFER
So it starts when some random demon gets just a little too comfortable talking to Lucifer.
Like… leaning in close, laughing too hard, touching his arm like they’re auditioning for a spot in his good graces.
Meanwhile Lucifer is standing there, calm and polite, doing the whole Professional Smile thing.
And you? You’re just watching like: 'Oh. Interesting. Fascinating. I love this for me. Truly.'
You tell yourself you’re not jealous. You’re just… observing. With narrowed eyes.
Lucifer notices, of course. Because he knows everything.
At first, he’s amused. Just the slightest curve of his lips, like, 'Ah. They’re jealous.'
Then he keeps talking, just to see how far you’ll go. (He’s evil. In a very hot way.)
The moment you start drifting closer Lucifer’s composure cracks just a little.
He raises a brow at you like, Are you quite done? You’re not. You’re absolutely not done.
The other demon finally leaves, and before Lucifer can even breathe in peace, you’re already at his side, arms crossed, pretending you weren’t just two seconds away from committing a light homicide.
“They were awfully friendly,” you say, all sweet-and-salty.
Lucifer's like, 'Ah. So we’re doing this'
He steps closer. And suddenly you remember this man is tall, composed, and extremely good at making you flustered.
“Are you… upset?” ¬‿¬ he asks. And he says it in that soft, infuriatingly smooth tone that tells you he already knows the answer and is simply stirring the pot.
You try to deny it. “What? No. I’m fine.”
Meanwhile your energy is radiating pure I will fight and win.
He gives you the look. Chin tilted slightly down, eyes sharp, mouth curved like he’s two seconds from teasing you into oblivion.
“You’re jealous.”
You, “I'm not.” (ㆆ_ㆆ)
He places one gloved hand lightly at your waist, effectively deleting your ability to produce coherent speech.
“You don’t need to be,” he murmurs, leaning close enough that you feel his breath against your ear. “If I wanted them, I wouldn’t have come straight to you the moment they left.”
You are internally combusting. Lucifer is externally smug.
He cups your cheek with one gloved hand, thumb brushing your skin gently, that rare softness he only ever shows you.
“You should know by now,” he says quietly, “my attention is not so easily swayed.” (˘ ˘ ˘)
And then, he seals the deal with a kiss to your temple, slow and intentional, because he likes watching you crumble.
When you finally relax, he chuckles under his breath. “It seems,” he says, “that I’ll need to remind you more often.”
Translation: Lucifer is absolutely living for your jealousy.
Not because he wants others to flirt with him, but because he loves the way you cling to him afterward like he’s the only thing in the room that matters.
And he is. He knows it. You know it. Everybody knows it.
── ⋆⋅☆ MAMMON
Listen. You didn’t mean to get jealous.
You were just minding your business, existing, breathing air and then some demon had the audacity, the boldness, the nerve to get all cozy with Mammon.
Laughing too loud, leaning too close, touching his arm like he’s a prize on display.
And Mammon? Sweet baby crow-boy Mammon? He’s oblivious.
Just smiling that dazzling, slightly stupid, very lovable smile of his and chatting like this demon isn’t basically trying to crawl into his jacket.
Meanwhile, you’re standing there like: 'Oh. Absolutely not. This ends now.'
Your eye twitches. Your aura darkens. A faint earthquake somewhere in the Devildom begins.
Mammon senses something, mostly because he suddenly feels a chill run down his spine like he’s being hunted.
He turns around, sees your expression, and freezes. “Uh… hey? Ya good?”
No, Mammon. No, you are not “good.” You are jealous and feral.
You approach with the sweetest, fakest smile. “Having fun?” you ask.
He knows that tone. He instantly panics internally.
The other demon leaves (probably because they value their life), and Mammon is already sweating.
“Oi, human, you’re not… mad, right?” (｡•́︿•̀｡)
You cross your arms. “Should I be?”
Mammon immediately switches into desperate backpedalling mode.
“N-No! I mean- ya know I ain’t lookin’ at them! I wasn’t flirtin’! They were flirtin’ with me! I mean- can ya blame ‘em? I’m awesome- BUT THAT’S NOT THE POINT-”
He grabs your hands, cheeks red, eyes wide with soft panic. “Look… I only want ya. Got it? No one else. Just you.” (ó﹏ò｡)
And just like that, your jealousy melts.
And Mammon? He clings to you for the rest of the day like a very loud, very affectionate golden retriever who almost lost his favorite person.
── ⋆⋅☆ LEVIATHAN
Okay, so listen. You didn’t wake up planning on getting jealous today.
But then some demon, some random background NPC, starts getting way too comfy around Levi.
Laughing at his jokes, leaning over his shoulder to look at his screen, practically breathing in his personal bubble like they’re auditioning for a shoujo manga.
And Levi? Oh, sweet Levi. He is oblivious.
He’s just excited someone is asking about his favourite game. He’s rambling, gesturing enthusiastically, completely unaware that someone is attempting to flirt with him right under your nose.
Meanwhile you’re standing there like: 'This is totally fine. I am calm. I am stable. I am NOT imagining throwing them out the nearest window.'
Levi finally notices you hovering, and he jolts like he’s been unplugged. “O-Oh! MC! I- I didn’t see you there!” (｡>﹏<)
Yeah, babe, because you were too busy being adorable and accidentally charming a desperate side character.
The other demon walks away (probably sensing death vibes), and Levi turns to you with that anxious little frown, smile drooping. “D-Did I… do something wrong?”
Ugh. Pain. Why is he cute even when he’s distressed?
You try to play it off. “No. I’m fine.”
Levi squints. He knows “fine.” He knows that’s the opposite of fine.
And then he spirals. Full panic mode.
“W-Wait, you’re not… jealous, right? I mean- not that you’d have to be jealous because it’s not like anyone would choose me over all the norm-” (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞
You cut him off by taking his hand. And he just stops.
“Levi,” you say, a little softer, “I just didn’t like how close they were getting.”
He turns red all the way to the tips of his ears. “Y-You were jealous… for me?” (,,•o•,,)
He squeaks. Actually squeaks.
And then he pulls you into the most frantic, awkward hug ever, arms tight, face buried in your shoulder. “I-I don’t want anyone else. Just you. Always you.”
And for the rest of the day, he sticks to your side like a shy, blushing boy who has officially claimed their favourite human.
── ⋆⋅☆ SATAN
You’re not the jealous type. Normally.
But then some demon starts chatting up Satan in the library.
Whispering too close. Smiling too sweetly. Doing that little lean-in maneuver like they’re auditioning for the role of “Person Who Gets Launched Into a Bookshelf.”
And Satan? Oh, he notices. He notices everything.
He clocks your jealousy before you even decide you’re jealous, but he doesn’t say a word.
He just gives you that subtle little smile, the one that’s 50% mischief, 50% “I want to see what you’ll do.”
Meanwhile, you’re across the room like: 'Absolutely not. This NPC is about to lose their library privileges permanently.'
You fix your expression into a polite smile, but your jealousy leaks out like cursed aura.
Satan’s eyes flick toward you every few seconds, amused, watching the storm brew.
Oh, he is living for this.
You know why? Because it’s rare. Because it means you care. And Satan loves when you care.
When you finally walk over, he shuts his book with such deliberate calm it’s basically foreplay.
“MC,” he greets you, “you look… intense.” (—ᴗ—)
You ignore that. “Who was that?”
Satan tilts his head, pretending to think. “Just someone asking for a recommendation. Why?”
Oh, he knows why.
You give him a look. Sharp. Possessive. Not subtle.
He leans closer, crowding your space just enough that your breath catches. “You’re jealous.” Not a question. A diagnosis.
You try to deny it. “I’m not-” <( ⸝⸝•̀ - •́⸝⸝)>
He cuts you off with a soft laugh, fingertips brushing your hip like he’s coaxing the truth out of you. “You are. And it’s… charming.”
Satan cups your chin gently, eyes soft but teasing. “No one else gets my attention like you do. You know that, right?”
And when you finally relax, he kisses your cheek then murmurs,
“But by all means… feel free to stake your claim whenever you want.” (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
── ⋆⋅☆ ASMODEUS
Look. You don’t plan on getting jealous around Asmo. You really don’t.
But the universe apparently likes testing you, because today, some demon decides they’re brave enough to flirt with THE Avatar of Lust right in front of you.
And Asmo? Oh, he is sparkling.
Twirling a strand of hair. Laughing that sweet, twinkly laugh.
Tilting his head just so, the kind of move that could seduce an entire ballroom.
Meanwhile, you’re standing there like: 'Oh, absolutely not. This NPC had better step back before I turn into a cautionary tale.'
Asmo catches your expression, of course he does, and his smile grows just a bit sharper.
He’s not encouraging the flirt… but he isn’t stopping it either.
No, he’s watching you over the demon’s shoulder, eyes glittering with pure delight.
Because Asmo doesn’t get jealous often. But you?
You getting jealous for him? He eats that up like candy.
When the demon leaves, Asmo immediately floats over to you, practically glowing. “Oh, MC~ You’re looking tense!”
Tense?
Asmo, sweetheart, you are minutes away from witnessing their villain origin arc.
You cross your arms. “They were awfully close.”
Asmo gasps dramatically, hand to chest, sparkling eyes, the whole performance. “MC… were you jealous?” (∩˃o˂∩)♡
His tone is pure mischief. Like he already knows the answer but wants to watch you squirm.
You try to deny it. You fail.
Asmo giggles, leaning in until his lips brush your ear. “Don’t worry, darling. No one shines like you do.”
His fingers lace with yours, squeezing softly.
“If you wanted my attention,” he murmurs, voice dipping low, “all you had to do was claim me.” (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧
Then he kisses you. Slow, sweet, smug.
“Besides,” he whispers, “I only flirt with them… but I fell in love with you.”
── ⋆⋅☆ BEELZEBUB
You did not expect to get jealous over Beel.
He’s sweet. He’s polite. He’s the human equivalent of a warm hug.
But then some demon has the absolute nerve to get a little too friendly with him.
They’re laughing at everything he says, even the stuff that isn’t funny.
Touching his arm. Complimenting how “strong” he looks.
And Beel, bless him, is just smiling shyly like, 'Thank you,' because he genuinely thinks they’re just being nice.
Beel notices something is off when your smile gets stiff.
He tilts his head at you, that soft, curious expression that makes you want to simultaneously melt and scream. “MC? You okay? You look… tense.” ( • ᴖ • ｡)
Tense. Yes.
Because someone was flirting with him like he’s the main prize in a raffle and you have front-row seats to your own mental breakdown.
When the other demon finally leaves (mostly due to the silent murderous aura you’re radiating), Beel turns to you fully, brows knit in gentle confusion. “Did I do something wrong?” (·•᷄ࡇ•᷅)
Ugh. Pain.
He’s too sweet.
You sigh, crossing your arms. “They were flirting with you.”
Beel blinks. Once. Twice.
“Oh,” he says softly. Then, almost shyly, “Did that bother you?”
You mutter something vaguely jealous, and Beel’s entire face softens.
“MC… I don’t want anyone else.” His voice is so earnest it nearly knocks the wind out of you.
He steps closer, big hands settling gently on your hips, like he’s afraid to hurt you even though he’s being impossibly careful.
“If someone flirts with me… I just think of you,” he says, cheeks glowing. “Because the only person I want is you.”
And then he pulls you into one of those warm, crushing hugs that makes your jealousy evaporate like it was never there.
── ⋆⋅☆ BELPHEGOR
You don’t even realize you’re jealous at first. You’re just… watching.
Observing. Totally normal, totally casual, definitely not staring daggers into the side of Belphie’s head while some demon giggles at every word he says.
Belphie? Oh, he notices instantly.
He’s lounging on the couch like he’s posing for a painting, half-asleep, half-smug, fully aware of your growing murderous aura.
And yet? He says nothing. Of course he says nothing.
He just lets you simmer. Lets you glare holes through that poor demon’s skull.
Lets you sit there with that tight little smile that absolutely screams:
'That’s close enough, sweetheart, any further and I start swinging.'
Eventually, he 'accidentally' glances your way.
You swear he smirks. He swears he didn’t.
He's. A. Liar.
When the other demon finally leaves, Belphie stretches like a cat who’s been waiting all afternoon for this moment, then slowly, so slowly, saunters over to you.
He stops right in front of you and tilts his head like he’s examining a really interesting painting. Or a ticking bomb. Maybe both.
“You good?” ( •̯́ ₃ •̯̀) he asks.
Like he didn’t feel the jealousy radiating off you like a space heater.
You try to play it cool. You fail spectacularly.
Belphie hums, happy as can be, and leans in until his forehead gently knocks against yours.
He’s close enough that you can feel his breath when he whispers, entirely too pleased with himself, “You know… you’re kind of cute when you get jealous.” ( - ᴗ - )
You sputter, deny everything, threaten violence, pick your flavour.
He just wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you down onto the couch with him like you weigh nothing.
“If you wanted my attention,” he murmurs, eyes closing as he curls into you, “you could’ve just asked.”
And yeah… the worst part? He’s right.
── ⋆⋅☆ DIAVOLO
Listen. You don’t mean to get jealous.
You’re just standing there, minding your own business, watching Lord Diavolo chat it up with someone who is definitely laughing a little too hard at his jokes.
Like, calm down, babe. He said “the weather’s nice.” It wasn’t that funny.
Meanwhile, Diavolo’s over there being… well, Diavolo. Big. Charming. Radiant. Laughing that warm, earth-shaking laugh that makes the entire Room of Mirrors vibrate or whatever. And you’re trying very, very hard to be normal.
You fail. Horribly.
You’re giving him the most obvious jealous look in all three realms.
It’s not even subtle.
It’s 'if you touch his arm again, I will respectfully wrestle you' energy.
And the best part? Diavolo sees it. Immediately.
His smile twitches, not in a mean way, but in a 'oh that’s adorable, what do I do with this feeling in my chest?' way.
He tries to continue the conversation. He really does.
But every time he glances your way and sees that tight-lipped little stare, he nearly loses it.
The second he can politely escape, he does.
He strides over to you with that big, sweeping confidence only a demon lord can pull off, and stops just close enough that you have to look up at him.
“Are you… jealous?” ( ☆0☆)‼ he asks, eyes sparkling like he already knows the answer and loves it way too much.
You try to deny it. You do. But Diavolo is not fooled for even half a second.
He laughs and gently takes your hands in his, thumbs brushing your knuckles like an apology he hasn’t said yet.
“You don’t have to worry,” he murmurs, leaning down just a little, “My attention was on you the whole time.” （´ ˘｀ ）
And the way he says it? Yeah. Good luck staying jealous after that.
── ⋆⋅☆ BARBATOS
You don’t think Barbatos even can inspire jealousy.
He’s quiet, composed, polite, the picture of 'I’m too busy managing time itself to flirt.'
So when it happens? When someone decides to get a little too friendly with him in front of you?
Oh, you feel it. Deep in your soul. The audacity.
Especially because Barbatos just… smiles. That calm, gentle, 'I already know how this plays out across seven timelines' smile.
Meanwhile, you’re standing there like, 'Hello? Sir? Your future lover is about to combust. Please respond accordingly.'
The worst part? He absolutely notices. Barbatos notices everything.
He can feel your jealousy from across the room like a little spike in the timeline. He glances at you, and there it is: the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes. Not mocking, just… fond. Way too fond.
He lets the conversation continue for a moment (rude), but his attention keeps drifting back to you.
Like he’s checking on his favourite person, making sure you’re not actually about to throw hands and disrupt the flow of destiny or something.
When he finally excuses himself and walks over, he does it with that smooth, elegant composure that makes you want to scream into a pillow.
He stops in front of you, hands folded neatly behind his back, head slightly tilted.
“My, you seem troubled,” (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) he says, as if he didn’t witness your internal meltdown in 4K.
You try to play it cool
He gives you one raised eyebrow. Instant confession. Embarrassing.
Barbatos’s smile softens, warm enough to melt time itself. He steps just a little closer, enough that his voice drops into that low, velvety tone that’s way too effective.
“You have no need to be jealous,” he murmurs. “My loyalty, and my affection, are already spoken for.”
Then he adds, barely above a whisper, “And I assure you, I am not so easily swayed.” (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
── ⋆⋅☆ SIMEON
Here’s the thing about Simeon: he is too pretty, too polite, and too soft-spoken for his own good.
People flock to him like pigeons to bread crumbs. And usually? You’re fine with it. He’s an angel. Kindness is literally in the job description.
But today? No.
Today that demon is laughing just a little too sweetly at his every word, leaning in a little too close, and Simeon is smiling his sunshine smile like he isn’t actively shortening your lifespan by five years.
You’re standing there trying so, so hard to be normal about it. (You are absolutely not normal about it.)
And Simeon? Oh, he notices. Instantly.
Your stiff posture, your tight-lipped smile, the way your eyes narrow like you’re trying to set the demon on fire using only righteous fury?
Yeah, he clocks it all. But he doesn’t say anything. Not yet. He’s polite, remember?
But there’s a tiny hint of pink on his ears. He definitely likes that you care.
He wraps up the conversation quickly, still sweet, still graceful, but with a little urgency that absolutely wasn’t there before.
And then he’s by your side, hands folded behind his back like he’s preparing to deliver holy news.
“Are you alright?” (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) he asks, voice soft enough to make flowers sprout.
You say you’re fine. He gives you that look.
You are not fine, and Simeon knows it.
His smile gets warm in that gentle, melt-your-heart, 'oh, you precious thing' kind of way.
He steps closer, brushing a stray hair behind your ear with such tenderness you almost malfunction.
“There’s no reason to be jealous,” he murmurs. “I only have eyes for you.”
And because he’s Simeon, literal angel, heart of gold, smile licensed to kill, he adds quietly, “I hope you know how deeply I cherish you.” ( ꈍᴗꈍ)
You never plan to get jealous over Solomon, because logically speaking, he is older than your entire family tree combined and has probably been flirted with since the dawn of civilization.
You figure he’s immune. You figure you’re immune.
And then some random witch-in-training starts practically batting their eyelashes at him.
And Solomon? He’s smiling. Of course he is.
This man smiles like trouble. Like he knows twenty-seven secrets you don’t and finds that very entertaining.
He’s leaning slightly closer to hear them better, laughing softly, oh-so-charmed, and you’re in the corner like, 'Wow, that’s crazy. I’m about to become a war crime.' :/
Solomon picks up on it instantly… because obviously he does. The man could sense a shift in the air molecules across the planet if it interested him enough.
You catch him glancing your way mid-conversation, eyes sparkling with that 'oh? this is fun' kind of mischief.
And that alone is enough to make your irritation spike.
As soon as he can extract himself (politely, the menace), he strolls over to you with that mischievous little grin that deserves federal regulation.
“Is something the matter?” (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ he asks, voice smooth like he’s trying to get under your skin. Like he's pretending to be soooo innocent.
You deny everything. He looks delighted.
Solomon steps closer, brushing imaginary dust off your sleeve like he’s absolutely not doing that just to fluster you.
“You know,” he says softly, “you don’t have to be jealous.”
He tilts your chin up with one finger, lightly, barely touching, but somehow still making your brain short-circuit.
“If I wanted anyone else,” he murmurs, “I would have chosen them centuries ago.”
Then he smiles, slow, knowing, infuriatingly fond. “But I chose you.” ( ˘ᴗ˘ )
And just like that? Jealousy obliterated. You’re too busy trying not to melt into the floor.
You writing eats, and your so real for using a grammar checker (literally me) 💕
Do the gradients take a long time for you? I use them for my headcannons/fics and they can be time consuming, but it’s so worth the aesthetics you know
Thanks twin, I <3 Grammarly.
The gradients don't take me much time at all. I mean, the first time I made them, they did, but then I copied the entire HTML and pasted it into my notes app. Now, all I have to do is copy and paste from my notes app to Tumblr, then add the title and other words.
I'm not sure if this is widely known, but the website I used is patorjk.com. Made it so simple even for a first-timer like me.
Malleus senses your exhaustion before he even sees you.
Like a supernatural sixth sense, but instead of sensing danger or magical anomalies, he senses your dwindling energy bar.
You drag yourself through the courtyard, eyelids drooping, steps slow, soul hovering somewhere above your head.
You look like you’ve been personally victimized by the education system.
Malleus appears beside you in that way he does, silent, regal, mildly terrifying.
“Child of Man,” he says gently.
Then he finally gets a good look at your face.
Oh. His expression shifts. The ancient-dragon-who-has-seen-nations-fall look.
“You are… unwell.” (─ ‿ ─)
You try to wave him off, insisting you “just didn’t get much sleep.”
He blinks, confused.
“Much sleep?” His brows knit. “How much did you rest?” ( ╹ -╹)?
“…None?”
His pupils dilate like you just confessed a mortal sin.
“You pulled an all-nighter,” he says in a tone that belongs in a gothic cathedral, not in a school courtyard. He steps closer, lowering his voice. “That is dangerous for humans.”
You open your mouth. You do not get a chance to defend yourself.
He extends a hand. Not a request.
“Come.”
You take it because, well, it’s Malleus.
And also you’re too tired to resist being whisked away by a fae prince.
He brings you to Diasomnia before you can blink, guiding you inside like you’re some fragile artifact the world has cruelly mishandled.
Lilia pops his head around the corner, sees your zombified state, and goes, “Oh dear,”
But Malleus gives him the “I am handling this” princely glare, so Lilia happily flutters away.
Malleus brings you to one of the lounges, and sits you down on a plush sofa.
Then he kneels. Kneels. A future king kneels in front of you, taking your hands between his cool ones.
“You must not treat your body so harshly,” he murmurs. “I worry, you know.” ( ˘ᴗ˘ )
You blink at him, barely processing anything.
He conjures a blanket and drapes it around your shoulders with the gentleness of someone placing a crown.
Then he summons tea. Not normal tea. The kind that probably has a 500-year brewing technique behind it.
“Drink, Child of Man,” he says softly.
You do. Because if Malleus hands you tea, you drink it.
When you start to slump sideways, he moves instantly, letting your head rest against his shoulder.
His voice softens into something warm, ancient, and deeply fond.
“If your studies trouble you this greatly,” he murmurs near your ear,
“then allow me to help. Or at the very least… allow me to make sure you do not harm yourself trying to do everything alone.” (•́ -•̀)
You mumble something sleepy and incoherent.
Malleus smiles.
He lets you fall asleep against him, brushing a thumb across the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles.
And long after you drift into a deep, desperately needed sleep… he stays right there.
A dragon keeping watch over their most precious treasure.
── ⋆⋅☆ LILIA VANROUGE
Lilia clocks your exhaustion instantly.
He doesn’t need magic, he doesn’t need a scan spell, he doesn’t even need to see your face.
He hears your dragging footsteps down the hallway and goes:
“Ah. A fellow warrior suffering the aftermath of battle.”
Then you turn the corner. He sees your zombie-tier expression.
“Oh dear. You’re not just tired. You’re academically deceased.”
You try to greet him politely. Instead, a strange croaking noise leaves your throat, and Lilia clasps a hand over his mouth, eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Did you… pull an all-nighter, little one?”
You nod, wobbling slightly.
His smile somehow gets softer and more dangerous at the same time.
“Tsk, tsk,” he says, closing the distance with that floaty, silent glide he does. “You should know by now that mortals are terribly fragile.”
He places a cool hand against your cheek and leans in, way too close, way too effortlessly charming.
“You mustn’t push yourself like this.”
You open your mouth to argue, but Lilia just lifts you like you weigh nothing at all.
One second you’re standing, the next you’re cradled in his arms like you’re a tiny, exhausted woodland creature he’s found on the forest floor.
You make a noise of protest. He chuckles.
“Hush, sweetheart. You’ve clearly lost the right to make your own decisions today.” (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)
He carries you into Diasomnia, one of the quieter rooms, humming something ancient and oddly soothing.
He sits you down on a plush chair, then drapes a warm, enchanted blanket over your shoulders.
And that’s when the shift happens. Lilia’s usual teasing fades into something gentler, more fatherly, more heartbreakingly fond.
“I’m proud of your hard work,” he says, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “But I won’t allow you to burn yourself out for the sake of grades.”
He conjures tea and carefully hands it to you. “Drink this. It will help your energy return… without keeping you awake.”
As you sip, Lilia crouches in front of you, elbows resting on his knees, chin in his hand. He studies your face with an amused, affectionate intensity.
“You’re adorable when you’re tired,” he announces, just to watch you blush helplessly.
When your head starts to droop, Lilia moves instantly.
He guides you to lie down across the sofa, then adjusts your blanket with almost parental thoroughness.
“I’ll stay,” he whispers, sitting beside you. “Someone has to watch over you. You humans are far too delicate to be left unattended after a stunt like that.” ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ
And as you drift off, you feel his fingers brush your forehead..
Before sleep claims you completely, you hear him murmur with gentle, genuine concern, “Next time you struggle, call for me. I’ll come running. I always will, little one.”
And he really means it.
── ⋆⋅☆ SILVER
You know how Silver is usually the one falling asleep randomly? Yeah. Today the universe decided to flip the script, because you are the one who stayed up all night.
Flashcards, assignments, pure academic suffering, you name it, you endured it.
You’re basically a ghost with caffeine.
Silver finds you the next morning and immediately clocks that Something Is Wrong.
Not because you tell him, oh no.
Because you’re standing there, blinking at your locker like it personally offended you, and the soul has fully left your body.
He comes closer, voice soft like he’s approaching a skittish woodland creature.
“You didn’t sleep,” (◡ ‿ ◡ .) he says, all calm and angelic, while you’re internally screaming like a dying microwave.
Cue him instantly shifting into Protective Mode. He steps a little closer, scanning your face with that gentle concern that makes you want to cry and/or pass out on the spot.
And here’s the thing, Silver doesn’t scold. He doesn’t say “You should know better,” or “Why would you stay up all night?”
No. He just looks at you like you’re the most precious, exhausted creature he has ever seen and goes, “You’ve worked hard. Let me take care of you.” (..◜ᴗ◝..)
You are extremely fragile right now. How dare he say something like that.
He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear and suddenly you are acutely aware that you haven’t slept in 30 hours and are on the verge of falling in love and falling unconscious at the same time.
He keeps close to you all day, not hovering, not babying you, just… being there.
Every time your vision starts fading like a bad YouTube buffering screen, he gently taps your shoulder to keep you awake.
“Stay with me,” he murmurs, and you do, mostly out of stubbornness and also because he smells like fresh air and safety.
The moment he catches you wobbling? Oh, it’s over.
He just silently scoops your bag out of your hands and declares, “You need rest.” No arguments, no negotiations.
And of course you try to protest.
You, “Silver, I’m fine, I’m actually super awake right-” Your body, falls sideways like a wilted houseplant.
He catches you with that knightly ease like it’s nothing.
You’re slumped against him, halfway coherent, and he’s just holding you like, 'Yes. Rest.'
He brings you somewhere quiet, his room, a lounge corner, wherever he knows Lilia won’t suddenly appear with glitter.
He settles you down and sits beside you, brushing your hair with these soft, steady movements because he’s trying to soothe you without waking you up more.
And when you finally doze off? Silver watches you with that serene little smile like you’re a sleeping fawn he’s sworn to protect.
He’s so warm, so gentle, and you’re so tired that you end up leaning into him.
He stays awake on purpose, for you, even though his own eyelids are in danger.
If you mumble anything in your sleep? Oh, he blushes. But he never moves. He just lets you rest against him like you’re something sacred.
When you wake up?
Silver greets you softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “Feeling better?” („• ֊ •„)੭ And honestly… yeah. Yeah, you are.
── ⋆⋅☆ SEBEK ZIGVOLT
You show up to class in full burnt-out cryptid mode, dark circles, sluggish blinking, the posture of a gremlin who crawled out of a library stack at 4 a.m.
And Sebek? Oh, he notices. He notices IMMEDIATELY.
The moment he sees you sway slightly in the hallway, man practically short-circuits.
He storms over like a hurricane of concern and volume. “HUMAN- YOU LOOK- YOU APPEAR- YOU ARE-”
He’s trying so hard to find a polite way to say 'you look like death warmed over,' and failing spectacularly.
And then you admit it: You stayed up all night. His soul leaves his body.
“AN ALL-NIGHTER?!” His voice echoes through the entire hallway. Students three buildings over hear it. Malleus probably turns his head like, “Ah. Sebek is distressed.”
He launches into a whole speech, you’re pretty sure he’s lecturing you, praising you, worrying about you, and scolding the concept of homework itself all at the same time.
But the thing is… he’s so dramatically worried it’s adorable.
He keeps glancing at you every two seconds, hands flailing, eyebrows knit like he’s physically restraining himself from wrapping you in a blanket right there.
When you get dizzy? Oh, he’s DONE.
Zero hesitation, he grabs your shoulders like you’re a fragile porcelain artifact. “HUMAN, YOU ARE WOBBLING! YOU MUST SIT. NOW. IMMEDIATELY!”
He escorts you to a chair like you’re royalty. A very sleepy, very floppy royal.
You try to play it off, mumbling, “I’m fine, it’s not that bad.”
Sebek, “NOT THAT BAD? NOT THAT- YOU CAN BARELY KEEP YOUR EYES OPEN!” ୧(๑•̀ᗝ•́)૭
He is outraged at your suffering. Personally offended by the concept of sleep deprivation.
Then he goes into overprotective mode, which is… wow.
You blink slowly, and suddenly he’s handing you water, adjusting your posture, hovering like an anxious guard dog.
Every few moments, “DO YOU REQUIRE ANYTHING? WATER? FOOD? A PILLOW? A GUARD?” ( ◡̀_◡́)ᕤ Sir… you’re the guard.
And when your head tips forward because exhaustion finally wins?
He catches you so gently you swear it’s whiplash.
Like he goes from FULL CAPS LOCK to soft, panicked whisper instantly. “Human…? You mustn’t push yourself so far…”
He insists on escorting you somewhere to rest, dorm lounge, infirmary, literally anywhere with a horizontal surface.
He walks beside you like an armored escort, glaring at anyone who breathes near you. “STAY BACK. THEY ARE TIRED.” ( •̀ - •́ ) Okay, King of Volume, we get it. You care.
When you finally settle down to rest, he stands there awkwardly for a second, clearly debating whether he’s allowed to sit with you.
You pat the spot next to you. He goes rigid, blushes, and sits like a soldier receiving orders directly from Malleus.
And the longer you rest, the quieter he gets, which is how you know he’s seriously worried.
He even lowers his voice to a gentle rumble when he checks on you:
“Are you… warmer now? Do you require anything else?” (He’s trying so hard. Someone give him a medal.)
When you finally drift off, he stiffens like you handed him a live bomb.
Lilia passes by at some point and smiles like, “Oh? Babysitting?”
Sebek turns scarlet but does NOT move. “I AM ENSURING THEIR SAFETY!” Yes. Yes you are Sebek.
When you wake up? You can tell he hasn’t relaxed once, but the second your eyes open he lets out this shaky little sigh of relief.
“Human… do not frighten me like that again.” And he’s blushing. Hard.
Vil doesn’t find you burnt out. He catches you. Red-handed. In 4K. Looking like a gremlin who crawled out of a homework pit.
You stumble into the Pomefiore lounge for your “study session” with him, and the second he looks up from his mirror, he freezes.
His entire expression drops. Not dramatically, no. Worse. Disappointedly.
“(Y/n).” (¬_¬") Just your name. Said like you’ve committed the gravest sin known to man.
You try to smile through your eye bags. Vil stares at you like he’s watching the corruption arc of his favorite character in real time.
He stands, approaches you, and takes your chin between his fingers with surgical precision. “You didn’t sleep.” (⩌_⩌)
Not a question. A verdict.
You try to defend yourself, and he immediately shuts it down with the deadliest, most judgmental eyebrow raise in Twisted Wonderland history.
“You pulled an all-nighter,” he continues, voice dropping into that stern, velvety tone that could probably make someone confess to crimes they didn’t commit.
He releases your chin only to guide you toward the nearest chair, palm at your back like he’s handling someone frail.
And maybe you are. You look like you haven’t seen sunlight in a decade.
Vil doesn’t sit. He looms. “You are overworking yourself. Again.” (•̀ -•́)
You start to apologize.
He holds up a hand. “No. I don’t want excuses. I want you healthy.”
He leaves for a moment—only to return with a glass of water, a neatly arranged plate of fruit, and an herbal tea that smells like pure sophistication.
He sets everything down in front of you with the elegance of someone placing offerings at an altar. “Drink. Eat. Then you’re going straight to bed."
You open your mouth to argue.
He gently places a finger on your lips. “I wasn’t asking, sweetling.”
Oh. Oh no. You’re too tired to even blush properly.
Vil watches you eat like a worried parent who’s also a disappointed supermodel.
When you start to nod off mid-sip, he sighs softly, almost fond.
He kneels beside your chair, brushing a stray hair from your face.
“You can’t shine if you run yourself into the ground,” he murmurs.
Then, “I’m not letting you do this alone. Next time, you’ll study with me from the start. Under my supervision.”
You’re half-asleep. He lifts you, actually lifts you, with surprising strength, carrying you bridal-style to your room.
He tucks you in with meticulous care, smoothing the blanket over your shoulders.
Before he leaves, he pauses in the doorway, silhouetted by soft light.
“…You matter, you know,” he says quietly. “More than any assignment.”
You barely hear him.
But he smiles when you drift off.
And for the rest of the day?
He checks on you every hour. Discreetly, of course. He is Vil Schoenheit, after all.
── ⋆⋅☆ ROOK HUNT
Rook notices your burnout before you even enter the hallway.
This man senses vibes like a predator senses movement.
One faint yawn from across the dorm and he’s already whispering,
“Mon trésor is suffering…” and materializing behind you like the world’s most elegant jumpscare.
You nearly scream. He beams.
“Ah! Pardonnez-moi, chéri(e). But your aura—it is… dim.” He says this with genuine heartbreak, like you told him your goldfish died.
You try to wave him off and say you’re “just tired.”
He gasps dramatically, hand to his chest like he’s been shot.
“Just tired?! Mais non! Mon ange, you look as though you have crossed deserts, climbed mountains, and dueled the gods—all with no rest!” (∩˃o˂∩)♡
He circles you like a concerned falcon assessing an injured baby rabbit.
You have no energy to stop him. The all-nighter has taken your soul.
He lifts a lock of your hair, inspecting the way it droops. “Your very strands cry out for mercy…”
You’re like, “Rook, please, I just need coffee before I collapse.”
He places both hands on your shoulders, eyes bright and alarmingly intense. “No. What you need is rest.” (⊙_◎)
Before you can react, he sweeps you into his arms in one smooth, terrifyingly graceful motion.
Princess-style. Of course.
He carries you through the Pomefiore halls while narrating your exhaustion like it’s wildlife documentary footage. “Observe: the weary student, bravely fighting the overwhelming tides of academia… ah, quelle tragédie…” (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ
Vil walks by, sees you being carried, sighs deeply, and mutters, “Don’t encourage him.”
Rook absolutely encourages himself.
He deposits you into the nearest plush chair and immediately starts fussing, adjusting pillows, brushing your hair back, tucking a blanket around you with a tenderness that should not be allowed to coexist with the unhinged sparkle in his eyes.
He kneels beside you, taking your hands and looking up at you like you’re the moon and the stars. “Mon cher, your dedication is admirable… but even the fiercest hunter must rest between battles.”
You mumble something incoherent. Your head thunks sideways. He catches it with both hands like it’s sacred.
“Shhh,” he whispers, smoothing your hair, “Let fatigue take you. I shall guard your slumber with my life." ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
And he means it.
You wake up an hour later with: a steaming cup of herbal tea, a neatly arranged plate of snacks, a blanket perfectly cocooned around you, and Rook sitting nearby, watching over you with the serene smile of a man who’d absolutely duel sleep itself if it dared bother you again.
The moment you stir, he lights up. “Ah! Mon trésor! You return to the land of the living!”
You groan. He beams.
And then, softly, you hear: “Next time, call for me before you burn out so fiercely. I will always come to your aid.”
── ⋆⋅☆ EPEL FELMIER
Epel finds you in the hallway looking like someone wrung you out like an old dishrag and left you to dry.
Your hair’s a mess, your notes are crooked, and your soul has clearly left your body.
He stops dead in his tracks.
“…What in the pluckin’ hell happened to you?” (˘ŏ_ŏ)
You blink at him with the slow-motion sadness of a cow staring off into the horizon.
He stares back, horrified “You didn’t sleep.” Not a guess. A realization. A judgment.
You try to laugh it off, but your voice cracks like a broken apple crate.
Epel’s already dropping his bag, crossing his arms, and giving you the look.
The one that says: 'I’m about to act real country about this.'
“Why would ya do that to yourself?! You look like ya wrestled a tornado and lost!” (·•᷄ࡇ•᷅ )
You mumble something about deadlines.
He groans loudly, dragging a hand down his face. “That ain’t worth lookin’ like a ghost dragged ya through a field! C’mon.”
Before you can protest, he grabs your hand and starts pulling you, firmly, determinedly. Straight toward Pomefiore like he’s hauling a stubborn sheep.
You complain weakly. He ignores it with the confidence of someone raised on a farm and therefore immune to whining.
Once in his dorm room, he plops you onto his bed with zero hesitation. “You ain’t movin’ from here.”
You try to get back up.
He plants a hand on your forehead and shoves you back down gently but decisively.
Then Epel turns surprisingly soft.
He sits beside you, eyes flicking over your tired face with genuine worry.
“You gotta take care of yourself… I don’t like seein’ ya like this.” He mutters it, cheeks faintly pink, like he didn’t mean for the softness to slip out.
He grabs a blanket, wraps you up like a sleepy burrito, and tucks it under your chin with an embarrassing amount of care for someone who pretends to be tough 24/7. “Stay put. I’ll get ya somethin’.”
He comes back with a mug of warm tea he brewed himself.
You try to sit up.
He pushes your shoulder down again. “Nope. I’ll hold it.”
And he does, lifting the cup to your lips like you’re some fragile porcelain doll he’s sworn to protect from the cruel realities of academia.
Once you’re properly hydrated and horizontal, he sits on the floor beside the bed, elbows on the mattress, chin in his arms.
“Next time ya feel this overwhelmed, ya come get me, alright? I’ll help ya study. Or remind ya to sleep. Or-” He clears his throat, suddenly shy. “…I’ll just be here.” (｡•́︿•̀｡)
Your eyes droop. He watches you fall asleep, smiling a tiny, proud smile.
“…That’s better,” he whispers.
And he doesn’t leave. He stays right there, your small, stubborn country knight, guarding your rest like it’s the most important job he’s ever had.
── ⋆⋅☆ IGNIHYDE - BURNT OUT
── ⋆⋅☆ IDIA SHROUD
Idia notices something’s wrong the moment you open the door to Ignihyde.
Actually, no, he notices the moment Ortho scans your vitals like a tiny adorable drone of truth and says, “Big Brother! (Y/n) has severe sleep deprivation!”
Idia peeks around the corner like a terrified housecat and. Oh. Oh no.
Your exhausted face hits him like a crit attack.
Your eyes are dull, your posture is 'I gave up three hours ago,' and honestly? You look like an NPC after twelve hours of grinding.
Idia’s hair flickers from blue to frantic neon pink.
“H-holy glitch… you look like you just respawned with debuffs.” ¡|!(0∆0)!|¡
You try to laugh. It comes out like a dying modem.
Idia panics.
He rushes over, well, rushes for him, which is more like anxious speed-walking, and starts circling you in pure disaster-mode. “Did you- did you stay up? All night?! Doing schoolwork?! By yourself?! Are you crazy?! That’s like- that’s like running a raid solo on hard mode with no buffs!”
You mumble something about needing to finish an assignment.
Idia gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like a Victorian maiden whose fainting couch has betrayed her. “You burned out for SCHOOL? NPC schoolwork? For FREE?!”
Before you can reply, he grabs your wrist with surprising decisiveness. “Okay, that’s it. Emergency protocol.”
You blink.
Idia drags you, yes, DRAGS you, into his room, which is glowing with soft lights and multiple monitors, all of them switching to calming screensavers like he pre-programmed them for this exact scenario.
He sits you down on his bed and shoves a blanket onto your lap. “Don’t move. You’re one HP from collapsing IRL.” (ó﹏ò｡)
Ortho zips in, brings you a warm drink, then leaves with a cheerful “Good luck, Big Brother!”
Idia turns bright pink.
He takes a deep breath, kneels in front of you, and adjusts the blanket with shy, trembling hands. “You… you can’t do that to yourself. Not on my watch. I mean- not like I’m watching you all the time, that would be creepy! I just- I care, okay?!”
Your head droops sideways.
Idia catches it with a startled squeak. “H-hey! Careful! If you fall asleep sitting up you’ll get a neck debuff!” ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
He gently guides your head to rest on a pillow, hovering above you like he’s defusing a bomb.
Then quietly, awkwardly, with shy determination, he sits beside you and starts brushing your hair back with his fingers.
Soft. Careful. Like he thinks you’ll shatter.
“You should’ve just told me,” he mutters. “I’m… good at schedules and stamina management. I could’ve kept you from frying your circuits.”
You hum sleepily.
Idia goes silent.
His hair softens to a warm, glowing pink. “Just… next time… come to me, okay? I’ll help you grind. Like a duo party. With proper rest timers.”
You’re already halfway asleep.
Idia pulls the blanket higher, cheeks glowing faintly.
“…Good,” he whispers. “You deserve a full rest cycle.”
And he stays there guarding you like a skittish, nerdy guardian spirit who would absolutely fight your assignments in a boss battle if he could.
Kalim finds you slumped over a table in the library, cheek pressed to an open notebook like you’ve finally accepted death’s embrace.
He gasps so loudly it practically shakes the bookshelves.
“(Name)! Are you okay?! You look- you look-” (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞ Wide eyes. Hands flailing. Panic is setting in.
You try to sit up straight. Your spine audibly protests. Kalim nearly cries.
He drops to a crouch beside you, grabbing your hands in his warm, frantic ones. “You pulled an all-nighter again, didn’t you?” (｡Ó﹏Ò｡)
It’s not even a question. He already knows.
You nod, trying to smile, and it comes out like a grimace.
Kalim’s face crumples. “That’s it. You’re coming with me.”
Before you can argue, he’s scooping you up princess-style. No hesitation, no warning.
Libraries have rules, but Kalim has never once in his life acknowledged the existence of a rule.
You squeak.
He beams. “You’re tired! I’ll take care of you! Just relax, okay?”
He carries you all the way to Scarabia like you’re his favourite treasure, humming some upbeat tune while you desperately try not to pass out in his arms.
Jamil sees you enter and sighs so deeply you swear you watched his soul leave his body.
Kalim deposits you on the comfiest couch in the lounge, pulling blankets from seemingly thin air.
He tucks you in.
And then sits beside you, legs bouncing with restless energy, eyes glued to your face like he’s waiting for you to shatter.
“You’re burning yourself out,” he says in a soft, worried voice that’s rare for him. “I know school is hard… but you don’t have to do it alone. Let me help next time, okay?”
You mumble something half-coherent. Your eyelids droop.
Kalim immediately shifts closer, guiding your head to his lap with the gentleness of someone handling spun glass.
“There!” He beams like he’s just solved world hunger. “Perfect!”
He threads his fingers through your hair, humming again, calm this time, almost lullaby-soft.
And when you finally drift off, exhaustion pulling you under, he whispers in a voice that’s entirely for you, “I’ll stay right here. You worked so hard… you deserve to rest. I’ll make sure no one bothers you.”
Anyone who tries is intercepted by a smiling, but absolutely unyielding, Kalim.
When you wake up, you find a plate of fruit, warm tea, and Kalim leaning over you with an excited gasp.
“You’re awake!! Do you feel better? If you don’t, that’s okay! We can rest more! Or eat! Or nap together! Or-”
You place a hand over his mouth. He giggles.
“You scared me, you know,” he admits, quieter. “But I’m really glad you’re okay… and next time, I’m pulling the all-nighter with you if I have to!” (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)
The worst part? He means it.
── ⋆⋅☆ JAMIL VIPER
Jamil finds you in the Scarabia lounge looking like the physical embodiment of academic suffering.
You’re hunched over a pile of notes, eyes glassy, hand cramped around a pen like you’re reenacting your final moments.
He stops in the doorway and just… sighs. Not a normal sigh.
A Jamil sigh.
The kind that says: “I’m surrounded by idiots, and unfortunately, one of them is my favorite idiot.”
“Let me guess,” he says, arms crossed, eyebrow raised with Olympic-level judgment, “You didn’t sleep.” (≖_≖ )
You attempt a smile. It’s horrifying. He actually flinches.
He walks over, plucks the pen right out of your hand, and sets it aside with the delicacy of someone disarming a bomb.
“Enough. You’re done.”
You mumble something like, “No… must… finish…”
Jamil leans down, puts a hand on your shoulder, and oh? He’s using the soft voice. The rare one. The dangerous one.
“You’re going to pass out if you keep this up.”
Your stubbornness makes one last attempt at a comeback, but Jamil is already packing your things for you like a mother who’s absolutely had it.
Then he grabs your wrist and tugs you to your feet with effortless, terrifying authority. “Come on. I’m not letting you destroy yourself over homework.”
He walks you to your dorm, well, more like herds you, glancing over his shoulder every two seconds because you look like a newborn foal learning how legs work.
Once you’re inside, he pushes you gently onto your bed. Not roughly. Not bossily. Just… firmly enough that you finally stop resisting.
“Lie down,” ಠ_ಠ he orders.
You do, mostly because gravity has won.
He covers you with a blanket, then starts muttering under his breath as he brushes hair away from your face.
“I knew this would happen… Of course you pushed yourself too far… Why am I not surprised…”
You’re too tired to clap back. He takes advantage of it.
He kneels beside the bed, looking at you with a mix of annoyance and worry that’s so Jamil-coded it almost makes you emotional.
“You’re not allowed to exhaust yourself like this,” he says quietly.
“Not when I’m around.”
You blink sleepily. He sighs again, softer, this time.
He leaves for a moment, only to return with tea that smells like heaven itself.
“Drink,” he says, holding the cup for you because apparently you’ve lost basic motor control.
When you’re finally drifting off, he pauses in the doorway.
“…Next time, tell me before you reach this point.” His voice is low, warm, maybe even a little guilty. “I’ll help you. I don’t want to see you like this again.”
And when you fall asleep mid-sip?
Jamil catches the cup with lightning reflexes, puts it aside, pulls your blanket back up, and mutters, “Unbelievable. They’re going to be the death of me.” (・_・ )
But he stays. Right there. Keeping watch like you’re something precious he’s afraid to lose.
── ⋆⋅☆ AUTHORS NOTE - Expect the rest of the parts today, but also don't. Who knows what I'll do.
HEARTSLABYUL
SAVANACLAW
SCARABIA
POMEFIORE + IGNIHYDE
DIASOMNIA
── ⋆⋅☆ AZUL ASHENGROTTO
Azul sees you shuffling into the Lounge like a lost soul freshly escaped from academic hell, and he stops polishing a glass mid-swipe.
His brow furrows. His whole posture shifts. He looks like he just witnessed a business deal go catastrophically wrong.
“...You look dreadful,” he says, sounding deeply alarmed but trying to hide it behind fake customer-service politeness. “You’re not ill, are you?” (╭ರ_•́)
You mumble something about homework and pulling an all-nighter.
And Azul? Azul blinks. “You what?”
You repeat it. He inhales sharply through his teeth like you just confessed to burning down Mostro Lounge on purpose.
“Oh dear,” he mutters, setting the glass down with the gentleness of someone preventing a meltdown, yours or his, unclear.
“Why would you do something so reckless? Your productivity drops drastically without rest.”
You sway. Azul’s hand is on your elbow instantly.
He doesn’t even realize he grabbed you until Floyd and Jade both raise their eyebrows from across the room.
He clears his throat, face pink. “Ahem. Come with me. Sit. Now.”
The businessman tone is back, but there’s an edge of panic under it.
He leads you to a private booth like you’re a VIP client in crisis.
Before you can protest, he’s already bustling around, water, warm tea, snacks, a blanket that he claims is “Lounge property” (it’s not; it’s his), the whole package.
“You must replenish your energy,” he insists, adjusting the teacup in your hands like he’s prepping you for a commercial. “Drink slowly. You’re shaking.”
You try to tell him you’re fine.
He gives you a deadpan stare. “As someone who is fine, I can assure you, you are not.” (ㅇㅡㅇ)
When your head finally tips onto his shoulder, Azul freezes.
His glasses slip down his nose. He goes crimson.
But… he doesn’t move. He doesn’t even breathe too deeply, terrified of waking you.
“Good grief,” he whispers, adjusting the blanket around you. “You really worked yourself to the bone, didn’t you…?” (⸝⸝๑﹏๑⸝⸝)
He stays beside you the whole time, shooing Floyd away when he tries to poke your face.
He absolutely threatens Jade with “dockage of pay” if he even thinks about teasing him for how soft he’s being.
When you wake up, Azul’s still there, pretending to review paperwork he definitely hasn’t touched.
“I’ve arranged a study plan for you,” he says, clearing his throat. “Efficient. Realistic. And, most importantly, sleep-friendly.”
Then, quieter, almost shy, “I… worry. More than I should, perhaps.”
Azul Ashengrotto, the king of contracts and composure, softening because you forgot to sleep?
Yeah. He’s hooked.
── ⋆⋅☆ JADE LEECH
Jade catches you stumbling down the hallway like you’ve been resurrected against your will, and he tilts his head with that calm, polite smile that makes you both comforted and mildly terrified.
“My, my… you seem rather out of sorts today,” he says, voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.
You mumble something that vaguely resembles “homework… no sleep.”
Jade blinks once. Like a lizard.
“An all-nighter?” •ᴗ• There’s no change in his smile, but the glint in his eyes says, 'Oh dear, you poor fool.'
He steps closer, seamlessly guiding a hand to your back as you wobble like a baby deer with no sense of balance. “Careful now. We wouldn’t want you collapsing in the hallway, would we?”
You swear his hand lingers longer than necessary.
He leads you toward a quiet corner of the school and gestures for you to sit. “Please. Rest for a moment while I retrieve something for you.”
You try to insist you’re fine.
He gives you a look that shuts that down immediately. “Ah ah. There is no need to be brave for my sake.”
He disappears for two minutes. Comes back with tea obviously handcrafted with alarming precision.
“Drink,” he says sweetly. “Don’t worry, this one is perfectly safe.” (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵)
(You’re 90% sure he’s joking… Mostly.)
As you sip, your eyelids start drooping.
Jade watches with that serene, knowing expression, like he fully expected this.
“You truly drove yourself past your limits,” he murmurs, sitting beside you. “Such dedication is admirable… but terribly self-destructive.”
You lean sideways without meaning to, and your head brushes his shoulder.
Jade goes very still. Not startled, just… interested.
“Exhausted, are we?” he whispers. “Go on, then. Rest. I’ll stay here.” ( ꈍ◡ꈍ)
And he does. Unmoving. Guarding you from anyone who might disturb you with a polite smile that promises violence if needed.
When you wake up, his jacket is draped around your shoulders.
Your tea is still warm, and Jade is watching you with unmistakable fondness.
“I do hope,” he says lightly, “that next time you need help… you’ll come to me before you decide to sacrifice sleep.”
There’s warmth in his tone.
Burnout may try to claim you again, but Jade Leech absolutely will not allow it. Not on his watch.
── ⋆⋅☆ FLOYD LEECH
Floyd sees you trudging through the hallway looking like a soggy napkin someone stepped on, and he IMMEDIATELY zeroes in on you like a shark scenting blood in the water.
“Oiii, shrimpyyy~” His voice echoes. Predatory. Amused.
You flinch because you already know you don’t have the stamina for whatever he’s about to do.
He drapes himself over your shoulders from behind, chin plopping on top of your head like he’s claiming you as furniture, but then he freezes.
“…Shrimpy?” He leans forward, sniffing you like some kind of feral cat. “You smell tired.” (⊙ _ ⊙ )
You try to tell him you pulled an all-nighter, but the moment the words leave your mouth, Floyd jerks back with an offended gasp.
“You didn’t sleep? Not even a liiittle bit?” He pouts. Actually pouts. “You’re all droopy and floppy now! That’s boring!”
You sway in place.
He catches you instantly, hands gripping your waist, eyes narrowing.
“Oi. Don’t fall.” His voice drops, deeper, sharper. “Or I’m carrying you like a sack of potatoes.”
You attempt to walk. He blocks your path with his entire body.
“Nope.” He scoops you up like it’s nothing, tossing you over his shoulder in one smooth motion. People stare. He does not care.
“Floyd. Put me down.”
“Uh-uh. Shrimpy’s too tired. You’ll trip and break something and then Azul’ll make me fill out paperwork.”
He drags you (literally) to Mostro Lounge, plops you into a booth, and slides in next to you, shoulder pressed to yours, leg pressed to yours, way too close on purpose.
“Stay.” (¬`‸´¬) Like you’re a misbehaving pet.
You blink blearily.
Floyd grins. “Oh man, your eyes are all sleepy-looking. Kinda cute.” (—ᴗ—)
He grabs a drink, some snacks, and then cups your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks together. “You better eat. If you pass out on me, I’m biting you.”
You try to sip your drink. Your hands shake.
Floyd snatches it away and holds it to your lips himself, acting annoyed but being gentle.
“Tch. Shrimpy can’t even drink right now. Pathetic.”
You start nodding off. Floyd watches your eyelids droop, pupils dilating like he’s seeing his favorite toy malfunction.
“Oho? You’re really gonna sleep on me?”
You slump sideways onto him.
He shuts up. Completely.
He adjusts your head onto his chest, one arm sliding around your back, holding you in place.
“…Fine,” he murmurs, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Only ‘cause you look kinda cute like this.”
Anyone who approaches gets a glare so lethal Jade gently escorts them away.
When you wake up, Floyd is still there, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.
“Feeling better, shrimpy?” He smirks dangerously. “Next time you stay up all night, I’ll drag you into bed myself. Don’t test me.” (ㆆ_ㆆ)
