in which he suffers watching you fawn over his overblotted copy who seems to be in love with you.
SUMMARY: after an experiment gone wrong, an overblotted clone of one of the victims has re-emerged. luckily for everyone, it's reasonably powerless and will eventually disappear. unluckily for him, the clone seems to reflect his true feelings towards you.
PAIRINGS: overblot gang x reader (seperately)
WARNINGS: suggestive (for jamil, vil, and idia), slight possibility of drowning (azul), projection for ob!vil
NOTES: this is in celebration of hitting 100 followers! thank you so much for following my work, and for all the comments you have left behind! i will also be rewriting malleus's section once book 7 is complete! on another note, pls invade my inbox if you immediately see that reference from malleus's section, mwah!
"That's enough. If one of you barks one more time, I will have to show you what happens to unruly puppies that won't obey." Crewel sighs and pinched his nose, another hand gripping his baton in irritation. "Unfortunately, we cannot fix this in an hour. You bad doggies need to get along until this entire issue is resolved."
The professor clicked his tongue, shoving the two out of his office. "I have already contacted someone to get you both. Surely, the Prefect has survived both of you once and will be able to do it again. So stay put, and be good. Or else."
RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
Seeing his Overblotted self summons waves of shame and embarrassment for Riddle. It was not his best moment at all, and that inky copy is a reflection of his worst flaws and traits. You could imagine how rushed Riddle was to collar his copy in fear that it would hurt others again, especially you who had already dealt with it once.
"Don't make me repeat myself, I demand that I see my King of Hearts, this instant!" It's very much like babysitting a spoiled child, and it makes Riddle so wracked with embarrassment. He cannot control his copy as it stomps and yells outrageous demands to see you. Riddle was really on the verge of collaring it and dragging it back to Heartsyabul when you turned the corner.
OB!Riddle's smile is so wide that it could be mistaken as sinister. "My rose!" Inky blot is smeared all over your uniform as the fake runs towards you. Just as Riddle was about to whip out his wand to stop it, you relax and return the embrace, albeit with a confused expression. Riddle manages to explain very quickly whilst trying to pry off his copy, but you suggest that it is best to let it do what it wants.
What Riddle doesn't tell you is that his copy reflects his desires as well, claiming he is uncertain why it insists on being so affectionate with you. However, it seems to be quite the blessing when OB!Riddle marches to the Heartslabyul dorm to resume its position as Housewarden. In fact, the entire dorm thanks you profusely for being able to manage that little tyrant with a bat of your eyelashes and a gentle voice.
"Trappola, have you not learned your lesson!? Rule #186, you shall not eat hamburg steak on Tuesday! OFF WITH YOUR HEADâ" Tapping lightly on its shoulder, you attempt to placate the copy with a weak smile. "Riddleâ I mean, Housewarden Riddle, Ace has not been able to eat all day and the steak was the only thing left in the cafeteria. He did not have much of a choice." Suddenly, the copy's face softened before relaxing back into its seat.
"My rose, I mustn't bend the rules. If I bent them for one, I would have to bend them for all." It scowls, only sinking further into its chair as you rub gentle circles around his forearm. The entire table stares at you with looks of gratitude and relief, all in agreement that you just saved everyone a tantrum's worth of stress. You hummed at the copy, nodding softly. "I know, dear. May I remind you that rules are there to ensure everyone is happy and safe? If Ace hadn't eaten his lunch, perhaps he might have gorged on the tarts instead."
"I suppose you are right, my King of Hearts."
Riddle seethes from the other side of the table, arms crossed and face on the verge of turning red. It was hard for him to decide whether he was merely jealous, or upset at his own copy rampaging around as if he were the real one in charge. He pauses for a moment as an epiphany comes to him.
Is this what it looks like whenever the Prefect is here to calm me down from my temper?
Even though OB!Riddle cannot use his magic, Riddle is extremely watchful of his copy. It is perhaps the ugliest side of him, and the last thing he wants is an Unbirthday Party ruined and spoiled by ink. They only had to put up with it for a day, and surely, Riddle has enough patience to ride out this episode.
He does have to watch and hold himself back as his copy acts so familiar with you. A hand at your lower back, perhaps an inky kiss on the cheek, and you being referred to as 'his rose'? It should have been me!
When his copy disappears, Riddle takes the time to pull you aside and admit the truth behind the blot's behavior. His jealousy seems to have pushed him into confessing, and he makes it clear that he would rather earn your feelings properly instead of coercing you for affection with potential tantrums.
"Forgive me, Prefect. I apologize for my copy's behavior. I have to tell you the truthâ it was reflecting my innermost feelings. Prefect, I harbor these affections for you and I yearn to be more than friends. You do not have to tell me anything else at the moment. If you wish for time, I understand as well. Allow me to be curt, at least just this once. I like you more than a friend should, and I would hope to hear your response soon." (So polite!)
LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
What a drag. Does he really need to help monitor his own Overblotted self? If you were able to survive it once, you should be able to handle that huge lion on your own. OB!Leona appears to be nothing but a grumpy lion who answers to no one, only being forcibly dragged around by his original self.
It changes when you show up. Suddenly, the copy springs to life in your presence and is completely disobeying the original.
You are taken by surprise when OB!Leona backs you onto a wall, a clawed hand lightly brushing against your cheek. "Herbivore," He breathed as his green eyes zoned in on you. "You should be more careful when you wander these halls alone." You couldn't help but gulp as he grins, fangs glinting against the sunlight. "You never know who might just be planning to eat you."
But when Leona takes notice of his Overblot's sharp nails cut into your skin, his attitude changes as well. The original takes initiative to pull you away and stand between you both. Perhaps you don't understand the way they bare teeth at one another, taking aggressive stances as if one or the other would jump and claw at their target. It sets the tone for a very tense environment as you attempt to drag them both to Savanaclaw.
It was best to keep both lion beastmen confined in his room. Considering that OB!Leona was focused on getting your attention, it wasn't hard to manage him. It was all that his overblotted self wanted; attention and absolute adoration. Leona, on the other hand, was more so bothered by the fact you smelled too much like ink in his own room.
"Tell me, do you look at anyone else like this?" Having been kicked out of his own bed, Leona could only stare blankly from his couch as his copy kept you trapped against its chest on the mattress. It only served to annoy him further when you seemed to reciprocate the attention it was giving you. "No, only you." The copy smirks, its tail entangled around one of your legs. "Then tell me, why? What do you adore about me?"
You hummed, sighing while your hand began to play with his mane-like hair. "You're brilliant. You're the most cunning lion that I know." Leona swears you were teasing him as you take a quick glance at him, smiling slightly. "And you're the only one that can protect me." With a mocking grin, the copy cups your cheek and returns your gaze to his own. "Tell me more, herbivore."
When the copy finally reverts back to ink, Leona can't help but find some relief in having the bed (and you) all to himself again. The first thing he does is drag you to the mattress and keep you trapped against his chest. You still smell of ink and lion, and it's his job to fix that.
"Go to bed, herbivore... Ha? I don't have to give you an explanation. You're a smart cookie, haven't you figured it out yet? ... Even with all the answers my blotted copy gave you, you're still not satisfied? Hmph, that's not my problem anymore. You're mine now, is that what you wanted to hear? ... Good. Now if that is all, let's go to sleep. You reek of ink..."
AZUL ASHENGROTTO
It had become priority to get Azul's overblotted self into the biggest Octanivelle tank, which also happened to be the most isolated one. While OB!Azul seemed to be temporarily human, he seemed more irate with each second spent on the surface. It only relaxes slightly when it spots you, but his grip on your arm never relents. "Prefect, please. I need the sea..." He's just so needy and in pain. You'd help him, would you?
Azul is absolutely livid. He doesn't want you to see his copy in such a pathetic state. He most certainly tried to get you to turn the other way and march straight home, but you had to hit him with, "Even if it's your overblotted self, I would still help you." It might have been just a small comment, but he takes it as if you would move mountains for him. You weren't making it transactional, and that's practically special treatment for him.
You thought that his overblotted self would settle once in that tank. The copy immediately sheds its human form in favor of his merform, much to Azul's embarrassment. The businessman ready to drag you out and leave that blotted mess to fend for itself when a tentacle had dragged you into the water. Suddenly, you're met with teary blue eyes just before you were submerged. "You didn't plan to leave me here alone, did you?"
And goodness, Azul is just torn between fuming and panicking as his copy drags you further and further down. To make things worse, you haven't even taken a breathing potion! That was more than enough to make the octomer shake off his anxieties and plunge down into the waters after you before you drowned.
"And then what? What exactly were you planning to do once you had the Prefect here?" Azul pinched the bridge of his nose as he crossed his arms, unable to even make eye contact with you. Clutching at the little potion bottle in your hands, you do your best to ignore the way that the copy's tentacles seem to latch onto every single limb of yours. Not to mention how they twitch and slowly coil against your skin, or the way that the copy buries itself into your neck with a whine while it ignores its original.
"Why? Why won't you give me an answer?" It murmurs, arms caging you into its chest. You can see Azul's jaw clench, but you cannot exactly tell if he's embarrassed by how pathetic his overblot can be or envious of how it got a chance to be so close. "I'll give you everything. You will never want for anything. All you have to do is say that you'll be mine." The copy grits its teeth as it tightens its grip on you, tearing a surprised gasp from your throat.
"Why won't you surrender to me?"
The moment that this entire fiasco ends, you never see Azul for another two weeks. Every time you go to the Mostro Lounge to see him, he's suddenly occupied with every single disaster known to man. It isn't until Floyd gets bored of the entire thing when you get the opportunity to be tossed into the tank again. It isn't until Azul jumps into the tank after you with another breathing potion to save you, again.
"Please don't speak of that incident, Prefect. I wish you never had to be witness to such a sorry display... W-What do you mean Floyd told you about that botched blot experiment?! ... Don't play with me, Prefect. You can't just say that you'll surrender to me, you'll hurt my poor heart! ... If you dare say it again, I am afraid that the contract can never be broken. Choose your next words wisely, Prefect. Not all agreements have to be in writing."
JAMIL VIPER
Of all the Overblots here, Jamil's was the most... unhinged one, surprisingly. It was also the nastiest, based on how it seemed to disregard everyone around him. Truly, it was the worst of Jamil's envy and wrath towards everyone around him for shaping him as a servant. No matter what Jamil did to snap some sense into his copy's head, it only served to tick it off even more.
When you came to assess the situation, however, you immediately got the sense that the Overblot will not be cooperative unless it gets what it wants.
"Master Jamil," Both copy and original froze, slowly turning their heads to you, who has knelt onto the floor with a small smile. "A frown does not suit such a handsome face. Is there anything I can do for you?" Jamil remains frozen, mentally screaming in his head while his Overblotted self smirks, sauntering towards you with desire swirling in his maddened gaze. "Rise, my diamond. You certainly may do a little favour for me..."
Thanks to Kalim and the coordination of the entire Scarabia dorm, everyone has tricked OB!Jamil into thinking it was the boss of the place (at least for a day, Kamil is super understanding of the situation!). At least someone expected the copy to see through this farce, but OB!Jamil's ego was so stroked by you and everyone around that it seemed to buy into the delusion.
Unlike Leona's copy which was super uninterested with anything that didn't concern you, Jamil's blotted self was extremely irritant with everyone else. Had it not been for you, Jamil would never be able to live down the embarrassment for having such an... unpleasant copy. So far, there have been no disasters while Jamil was occupied with keeping his copy at bay.
It's just that... Jamil has been watching from the sidelines as you are perched on his copy's lap, feeding it and attending to it's every beck and call!
Gripping his knee, Jamil's eyes narrowed onto your flushed gaze as your fingers combed through his copy's hair. If he had envied everything that Kalim ever wase, he certainly envied the abomination wearing his face as it rested its head on your lap. You didn't have to look at Jamil to know that he was seething, but it wasn't as if you could abandon the blotted copy either. It had only been a few hours since it had latched onto you, and this was not the best time to agitate it.
"It seems that I have not rewarded you." The copy sings. Its expression remains content, shuddering at the sensation of your fingers pulling gently at its scalp. "Do tell me what you desire most." Your breath hitched at the copy's purr. You do not react either as the fake Jamil sits up to caress your warm cheek. Biting onto your lower lip, you shook your head. "I desire nothing but to make you happy, master." You swear that you see Jamil's expression strain itself, and you already see how tight he grips his knee.
"Is that so?" You say nothing when the copy leans in closer to you, licking its lips with intent. You should be frightened, and most certainly be running away, but you don't. "You wish to make me happy, then? Is it me that you want?"
All the signs were there. That copy's hand was pressed against your lower back, the other hand was on your cheek, and his face was so so closeâ
Its lips are hot to the touch, and you melt immediately into his hands as he pushes and prods with his tongue. Against the candlelight, Jamil cannot tell if your cheeks were truly flushed red. He watches as your own hands crept up onto the copy's shoulders, pressing and digging nails into its shoulders until you have the strength to push yourself away for air.
You pant as your vision returns to you, meeting the copy's cruel smirk. It is looking down on you, and yet, you do not feel animosity towards it. You only feel disappointment once you recall it was only a fake.
"Or perhaps," A gasp is torn from your throat when the fake grabs your cheeks with a firm hand, forcing your gaze to fall upon a stunned, yet flushed Jamil. The copy smiles wickedly against your cheek, humming with absolute glee.
"Is it him that you want instead?"
You nod, and Jamil's heart skips a beat.
Yeah, no. Our boy Jamil ain't recovering from this. The moment that the blot disappears, you best expect that Jamil ain't letting you leave that room without an answer.
"I wouldn't act coy right now, Prefect. You may be clever, but I have no patience for your antics. Now, are you going to be honest with me? ... Why don't you tell me what you want, instead? What? But you were so honest with that fake only a few moments ago. Where have your words gone? ... You wish for me to force the truth out of you, then? ... As you wish, Prefect. I will give you everything you want."
VIL SCHOENHEIT
This was such an inconvenience for poor Vil, and he hates his copy to the same extent that Azul does. Just like Riddle, Vil feels a sense of shame when he looks at his doppelganger because it was a personification of his insecurities and selfishness. However, at least the copy was very calm and cooperative, perhaps even melancholy until it sees you.
Seeing Vil's Overblotted self again doesn't change the fact that the fake was still so beautiful. You are actually stunned into silence when you are brought before the two. Grim swears you have stopped functioning because being in the presence of two Vil's is too much for this world.
If you weren't watching yourself, you would've passed out the moment OB!Vil cupped your cheek with its inky hand and smiled down at you. "Ah, Prefect..." You gulped as it cooed at you, much to Vil's alarm. Its surely dangerous, but danger loves you so much and you can't pull away from it.
OB!Vil never lets you out of its sight after that. Wherever you went, the blot would follow. It seems to be fixated on being in your sights, which was not exactly a problem when you brought yourself to Vil's quarters where you would wait the entire thing out. It does concern you, however, just as the copy seems to grow more and more unhinged with each second that passes.
Vil is not exactly envious of how intimate the fake acts with you. Rather, he's extremely perplexed and observant of the way it pines for your attention and praise like a lovesick puppy. However, it isn't always so sweet. It isn't so sweet when the copy comes so close to scratching at your skin as it begs for your honesty. It certainly does not appreciate being lied to.
"Tell me, Prefect. Who is the fairest one of all?" It asks for the hundredth time.
Vil cannot exactly explain how he found himself watching his copy cage you into his own bed. It has straddled your hips, pinning your hands down onto the mattress without a care for the mess it makes. Ink drips and spills over his silk sheets, his pillows, you. Your neck has been smeared with ink, and so have your clothes. His copy is smiling with ink dripping from its lips and its hair, an obscure yet beautiful mockery of the original.
The original's breath hitches as your lips part into a breathy smile. You look like absolute art, and his fake looks like an absolute mess. "You, Vil. You're the fairest one of all." Vil shut his eyes at your quiet whisper, and he wishes that you stop bending yourself over for this pathetic imitation of him.
The copy snorted in dismissal, a sinister grin taking over its features. "Ha!" Even as it grips your wrists tighter, you know better than to believe that the copy would dare hurt you. Your heart pounds, however, as it leans in closely to your face with desperation on its breath. "Why do you say such, Prefect? Why do you say such when you feast your gaze on the ugliest part of me?" A choked breath stills the copy, its grin growing more crooked and maddened. Ink splashes against your cheek, and the copy pathetically takes a long finger to smear it away, only obscuring your features further.
"Are you trying to lie to me?" It croaked, maintaining that desperately smile.
Vil thinks you'll push it away. Vil thinks that you think of his copy so hideously, and so ugly. Vil thinks that you see him as ugly.
And you dispel all those cursed thoughts as your hand reaches out to cup the copy's cheek, dirtying your own hand in turn. "You've pushed yourself so hard, Vil. You've worked hard for everything you dreamed of." The copy's crazed expression remains, and more ink pours into you. Still, you return it with a gentle smile of your own. "Even when everyone complains, you're only pushing them because you care the most. Perhaps you act like the evil queen everyone makes you out to be, but that crown is yours by right."
Vil's heart stops. He still cannot bring himself to look at the sight. It's that cynical part of him that believe in your acting skills, that this was all a ruse to satiate his fake. The knife digs into his chest further as you hummed sweetly. "Your flaws are just as beautiful to me."
Only then does Vil bring himself to look at his copy. It is still smiling, eyes so wide as blotted tears fall upon your skin. You are covered in ink, covered in the ugliness that had consumed Vil, but you accept it all. You embrace the mess, just as you embrace the ugliness of Vil's heart. "Do you truly mean it, Prefect?" Its whisper shakes with hope, very much unlike the weariness and suspicion it held towards you the entire time.
Both you and the copy slowly glance at the real Vil whose eyes had widened at your softened gaze, filled with nothing but adoration. The heart in his chest ached, and he imagines that his entire body is melting into your hands. You are his weakness, after all.
"I mean every word, Vil."
When the situation died down, Vil takes the time to walk you back to Ramshackle Dorm. However, he makes a quick stop when the moon is set at the right spot, just to cast down light on your starstruck gaze.
"To think that the ugliest part of me revealed such feelingsâ you deserve an appropriate confession, at the very least. The affection that my fake expressed to you was no different to what I feel for you. I realize... that you meant more to me than you should have. I am not a benevolent prince, nor am I pure as the white snow. Still, I offer my heart for you to keep in a box. I only ask you to accept me, for all my beauty and ugliness... Ha, potato. My lovely potato, you're mine..."
IDIA SHROUD
Surprisingly, Idia got along the most with his Overblotted self. It wasn't as if he was driven by pride or competitionâ there was just some sort of acceptance when OB!Idia was first manifested. There wouldn't have been much issues.
At least, that was what he wanted to believe before OB!Idia set his eyes on you. It sent Idia into a choking fit when he saw OB!Idia approach you with such cool indifference, acting like one of those aloof protagonists from those dark otome games that he saw on a playthrough once. It's the way that OB!Idia leaned down towards your ear, muttering something about his boredom and suggesting to retreat to his dorm.
Idia took an hour to recover before sprinting to his dorm to ensure nothing has happened. All he found was you sitting on OB!Idia's thighs (it insisted!), and Idia swore that his copy was smirking at him.
OB!Idia was nothing to be concerned about. It wasn't as if it had the power to open up the Gate of the Underworld, which so happened to be far away. Other than the fact that the copy seems so... forward with you, Idia tried his hardest to ignore it.
"You look tense, Prefect." The copy smirked as it gently backed you against the wall. It places an arm right above your head, the figure leaning down at you. Behind the mask it wore, you can almost see it smirking down on you. "Don't I scare you?"
If this was the copy's attempt to intimidate you, ha! You got it covered! Idia is practically weak to any sort of romantic notion, it should surely send his overblot into a flustered fit! Boldly, you close in the gap slightly, crossing your arms around his neck and smiled at him. "Not at all, Idia." Much to your surprise, however, the copy takes its hand to cradle the back of your head, gently nudging your face closer until you barely a hair's worth away from kissing his mask.
"Are you sure about that?"
Suddenly a flare of red catches your attention as you glance to the side to see a fuming Idia who snuck over to your side. Wrapping a possessive arm around your middle, the original Idia glared at the fake and gritted his sharp teeth. "Listen here, bucko. You ain't getting more action than me, so buzz off!" He towers over you, hair threatening to burn orange if this fake continues to toy with you. "You wanna play, huh? Only one of us can have her, and you're nothing but a MagicMart knock-off!"
Cocking its head to the side, the copy snorted. It didn't seem to relent its hold it had on you. Instead, it leaned in towards Idia with a taunting stare. "Yeah? Why don't you ask the Prefect, hm? Seems like our little guest is enjoying all the attention." Both of them glance down at you, who seemed to be busy turning red to even give a proper response.
The blotted copy takes its hand to cup your cheek gently, but it was only a ruse as it forces you to look at Idia, eyes hazy with want. The way your breath shudders makes the original itch to steal you away from the copy.
"Don't you?"
Take that ending however you will. Idia does end up confessing to you once his copy is reduced to ink once more.
"Don't give me that look, Prefect. You totally loved seeing me get all riled up. And don't you dare deny you hated the idea of getting sandwiched by two of me... Please don't make me say it. I ain't good at the 'asking out' part, but I don't wanna skip over to straight up dating. Ugh, fine. I actually liked you for a really long time, and oh Great Seven, I just hope that I'm saying the right stuff to get onto your route. You're the only route that I wanna pursue."
MALLEUS DRACONIA (Book 7 is incomplete at the time of this posting)
Had it not been for the lack of potency in the blot, OB!Malleus would have been the end of NRC. Lilia was not a stranger to Malleus's ability to change the environment based on his mood. Even when this was a mere fake that they were dealing with, no one really wants to find out the consequences of upsetting the copy.
Malleus looks down on his Overblotted self. It was a flawed part of him, but nonetheless, a part of him that he was most disappointed by. The Fae Prince should know better than to act so wickedly, but the original understands. He tries to be as sympathetic as he can be for the copy, but it was only indifferent to what the original demanded of it.
Being the concerned friend that you were, you went to see them both despite all warnings from Sebek. Admittedly, Malleus would rather you be as far away from this poor imitation as possible. He does not want to see you hurt, let alone be at the mercy of his copy. Alas, it is too late now. The blotted copy will not allow you to leave.
Malleus hid his frustrations and anger underneath that collected demeanor. The only thing keeping him from doing anything rash was the fact that you were cradled against his chest. With a protective arm holding your waist, you were seated upon the fae's lap. The copy is forced to look up at him as he sat on his makeshift throne, and the fury behind its eyes is most evident, based on the way its hands grip your knees as if it were the only piece of you left.
Alas, it is only a stalemate now. With each tug that the copy made at your lower half, Malleus would simply pull you closer to him in turn. The fae hummed, glaring down at the copy who seems indifferent to intimidation. "Prefect, you may only say the word and this fake will be no more." He grunted, and you resist the urge to whimper as the copy's lips turned upwards into a smile. "If you wish for it, Prefect, I will disappear." It cooed, and the glint in its eyes reflecting the madness of blot.
Hesitantly, you shake your head and only feel Malleus's nails brush against your waist. "I don't want you to disappear." You whispered meekly, uncertain of what to think of the fake's lovestruck gaze. "Prefect, do you know what I can give you?" Even as the fake is forced down by the original, it still has the nerve to reach out and cup your cheek. "I can grant your dreams. I can make your fantasies a reality. I can give you everything."
Malleus lets out a breath of warning, leaning down to your ear as he narrowed his eyes at the fake with restraint. "Do not listen to this mockery, Prefect." His words are tinged with a hint of desperation, as if he had something to hide, something to shield you from. No matter how much he attempts to intimidate the fake, his blotted self presses on with a cruel smile.
"Prefect, all you have to do is love me, fear me, and do as I say. I will be your servant to will, to rule, to ruin." You are frozen as Malleus loses his temper, swinging out his staff to dispel the fake once and for all. Much to his dismay, his blotted self backs away just in time as its glowing green eyes lock onto yours once more.
"All you have to do is stay with me, forever."
The campus lets out a collective sigh of relief when the OB!Malleus disappears. However, suddenly, the entire campus is holding its breath again when Malleus doesn't immediately let you leave his room.
"Prefect, I beseech for your forgiveness. I fear that the fake has reflected my most selfish desires... You have nothing to fear, for I shall never withhold you against your will. How could I do such a thing when I am already so weak to your whims? ... Perhaps you do not have to stay forever to render me your servant. I pine for you, Prefect. My heart has already been yours long before I noticed. Please, grant me your forgiveness, Prefect, lest you cast me aside and I shall let my feelings fade with time."
Gaming nights together were Idia's favorites. Even while being a complete shut-in, despising face-to-face meetings or sharing his personal space with someone else, he couldn't deny the physical reaction in his chest whenever you were near. His room was his sanctuary, a place almost nobody was allowed to enter, yet you were the exception.Â
Whenever you arrived, it would take a couple minutes for the door to unlock and slide open automatically. After all, he had to calm down his heart and breathing whenever the camera outside would catch even a glimpse of you, and because of this, he couldn't add you to the facial recognition system for his room just yet. Once you became close friends, you were added to the general dorm systemâs database, allowing you to wander anywhere you wished, but he figured you'd always end up at his highly-secured door.Â
Tonight, you were expected to arrive late in the evening, after classes ended and Grim was out of energy. Idia had memorized the perfect time for these meetings: he knew when your classes finished, when you'd be focusing on homework, and when Grim would go to sleep, leaving a small window of time before the sun set completely. He was too ashamed to admit it, but in these small shared moments, he simply wanted you all for himself, even if you'd end up getting sleepy while playing.Â
One of the many screens on Idia's desk flashed, his eyes snapping immediately, knowing all too well who it was. His heart started beating loudly in his ears, blue flames bursting and swaying. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and clearing his mind before letting the door unlock for you. The volume of his headphones was lowered to the minimum, his gaze steady on the screen in front of him as you entered his room.
You greeted him, receiving no response. A blank expression, seemingly focused on the game, yet waiting for you to call for him again.
â... Idia?â
There it was. Your soft, hesitant voice calling out to him. A voice that never tried to startle him, scared of making him lose or bother him. He couldn't care less about the display on the screen, the game he had already mastered multiple times, for the sound of your voice was all he looked forward to whenever you visited.Â
âAh, I didn't hear you enterâŚâ
He pulled down his headphones, letting them rest against his neck as he finally acknowledged you. Pushing his chair back, he made space for you to take a seat. You're not sure when it happened, but at some point a new gaming chair appeared in his room, and it just so happened to fit well between him and the bed, allowing you a better view whenever the two of you played co-op.Â
As you sat next to him and grabbed a controller, he glanced at your direction before looking away.
âLet's just grind this time, first to save up 30 pulls winsâ
Repetitive tasks. It was entertaining enough for you, and in your current state, he was aware you'd be dozing off in no time.Â
Ă
Your body felt heavy, resting your head against the soft pillows as you looked up at your phone, propped up on a handy holder attached to the headboard. Idia never outright offered his bed for you, but when you started asking for permission, he didn't seem to mind, until you naturally started laying on his bed whenever you pleased. His efforts at remaining nonchalant had successfully made you feel comfortable enough to lay there without asking, and it made his heart race every time.Â
A yawn. His hands tensed, fingers turning white.Â
The soft shuffle of blankets. Heat slowly rose to his face.Â
Steady breathing, signaling your sleep. With wide eyes, he finally looked directly at your face, his chest feeling tight, the pace trapped inside quickening. Blue lips parted, revealing sharp teeth as he took a deep, shaky breath.
He wasn't sure why, but there was something so exciting about having you sleep on his bed. Something intimate, something he refused to name. Maybe it was the longing that stirred within him; if only he could wake up to this scene, if only he could approach and stare at you until morning came, if only you could stay with him a little longer.Â
You seemed so comfortable in his bed, relaxed below that blue blanket, completely passed out after staring at your screen⌠And he couldn't help but stare. Never getting too close. Never pulling away.
Hugging his legs up to his chest, Idia let his cheek rest against his knees, face tilted towards you. With gentle sways, the light reflected on his desk turned pink, and he narrowed his eyes. He noticed, and couldn't help but feel like an idiot.Â
Ă
âHey, don't forget your phone in the bed holderâ
Idia muttered after you finished fixing your bedhead, watching from the corner of his eye as you rushed out of his room. You had classes to attend in person, unlike him.Â
As the door finally closed, he tiredly rubbed his eyes. He was up all night watching over you.Â
With slow steps, he reached his bed, carefully laying down on the edge. A pale hand traced over the sheets, finding a warmer area, and a tingling sensation spread through his body. He closed his eyes, forcing them to stay shut, and finally dared to lay his head on one of the pillows.Â
Your warmth. Your sleeping face. Idia could almost see it as he let his hand wander up, finding the pillow you lay your head on. And, after a long minute, he pulled it close to his face, inhaling deeply.
A sudden burst of pink sparked in the air, the light bouncing on every shiny surface. Idia's body instinctively curled up, his grip tight against the soft pillow. He felt dizzy, almost out of breath, as something delicate, hidden deep within his heart, suddenly bloomed.
When the trembling started, hands sweating as the tightness in his chest became unbearable, he knew it was time to stop.Â
The blanket was folded neatly at the foot of the bed, a pillow laying on top of it. With this, he could survive the rest of the week until you visited again.Â
Idia spent so much time convincing himself that expectations only led to disappointment, that it should have been easy to accept whatever scraps of affection you offered, yet somehow you had become the exception to every defense he had ever built.
Your messages remained open for hours after conversations ended. Your voice replayed in his head when everything else was quiet. Every interaction became something to dissect and revisit until he could no longer tell the difference between reality and the version of it his loneliness had constructed.
The moments you were kind to him lingered and it was mainly your fault. You stayed with him. You lead him on.
Then you would laugh with someone else, spend time with someone else, choose someone else, and suddenly he was left wondering whether he had imagined his importance entirely.
Rationally, he understood that people had lives beyond him. Rationally, he knew you owed him nothing. Unfortunately, jealousy had never been rational. It crept in through every unanswered message and every mention of another person until it became impossible to ignore.
The thought of being forgotten by you terrified him in a way he could never admit. It haunted him. Sometimes he would find himself staring at old conversations simply to reassure himself that you had once wanted to speak with him, that there had been moments when he mattered. The possibility that those moments meant less to you than they did to him felt unbearable.
What hurt most was that you made him want things. More time. More attention. More certainty. More of you than you were willing to give. He knew it was selfish. He knew it wasnât fair. Yet every time you drifted away, every time you disappeared without explanation, it felt as though you were taking something with you. You occupied so much space inside his thoughts that he no longer remembered what it felt like before you. The resentment, the longing, the jealousy, the desperationâthey all blurred together until he could barely separate one emotion from another.
All he knew was that he wanted you close, wanted proof that he mattered, wanted reassurance that he wasnât simply another person you would eventually leave behind. And whenever that reassurance failed to come, the silence became loud enough to drown out everything else.
Prompt: Let's Groove Tonight, share the spice of life <3
Characters: All NRC
Masterlist: (1) (2)
A/N: Ripped from my drafts and finally finished. Made because I exchanged playlists with a friend like...four months ago, and thought to make a playlist for TWST.
If you would like to submit a writing commission of your own, feel free to check me out HERE!
If you'd like to learn about my medical journey, view my rates, or learn why I'm accepting commissions. Click: HERE!
âIf the sky that we look upon // Should tumble and fall // or the mountains should crumble into the sea // I wonât cry, I wonât cry, no, I wonât shed a tear // Just as long as you stand by meâ - Stand By Me, Ben âEâ King
To Riddle, loving you is terrifying in the way freedom often is. All his life, every path was drawn out for him in neat red lines â every success predetermined, every failure unacceptable. But you stand beside him without trying to steer him. You do not demand perfection from him, nor obedience, nor the polished version of himself he was taught to present. You simply believe he can choose for himself. And somehow, that faith becomes stronger than all the fear instilled in him since childhood.
âIf it means youâll still stand beside me⌠then I think I can bear anything.â
âI get wet at the thought of you // Being a responsible guy // Treating me like youâre supposed to do // Tears run down my thighsâ - Tears, Sabrina Carpenter
Everyone assumes Trey is safe. Dependable. The calm one with gentle hands and patient smiles, the boy who cleans up everyone elseâs messes before they even notice theyâve made one. And he lets them believe it, because itâs easier that way. But you know better. You notice the amusement hidden behind his half-lidded gaze, the way he enjoys watching people squirm just a little under his attention. Trey likes being reliable because it gives him control â it means people trust him enough to let their guard down. Especially you.
Trey knows how much power there is in being the one person you never doublt.
âWhat? Youâre looking at me like that again⌠careful, sweetheart. You make it awfully tempting to bend the rules.â
âAll the pills that you take // Violet, blue, green, red - to keep me at arms length donât work //You try to push me out, but I just find my way back in // Violet, blue, green, red - to keep me out. I win.â - Cinnamon Girl, Lana Del Rey
Cater has spent so long making himself easy to consume. Smiles, selfies, jokes, perfectly curated pieces of himself handed out to everyone around him â enough to keep people entertained, but never enough to let them truly touch him. And then you come along and ruin the balance entirely. You notice the cracks beneath the filters, the moments where his grin strains at the edges, the loneliness he buries under endless distractions. He keeps trying to redirect you back to the surface, laughing things off whenever you get too close, pretending vulnerability is just another joke. But every time you slip past his defenses anyway, thereâs a part of him that feels relieved.
Cater pushes because heâs terrified of being known too well and abandoned for it after, yet he canât stop leaving the door unlocked for you. Maybe thatâs why he self-sabotages so often â because if you leave after seeing the real him, at least he can say he expected it. But if you stay? Then maybe, for once, someone chose him and not the version he performs for everyone else.
âYou know youâd have an easier time if you just gave up on me already⌠so why do you keep coming back?â
âHow can we go back to be being friends, when we just shared a bed.â - back to friends,sombr
Ace tells himself it just sort of happened. That somewhere between all the bickering, the late-night walks back to Ramshackle, the dumb arguments and easy laughter, things got complicated. But lying awake beside you, close enough to feel the warmth of your body beneath the blankets, he realizes that isnât true at all. It was never just friendship for him. Maybe he knew it from the first day he decided to get under your skin for no reason other than wanting your attention fixed on him. Maybe thatâs why he kept coming back, even when he couldâve walked away a hundred times over. Ace doesnât really understand when wanting to make you laugh turned into needing to be the person you looked for first, or when teasing you started feeling dangerously close to flirting.
All he knows is that sharing a bed with you â hearing your breathing in the dark, watching you shift sleepily closer without thinking â makes pretending impossible now. Because friends arenât supposed to want like this. They arenât supposed to feel their chest ache at the thought of going back to ânormal.â And the worst part is that Ace doesnât think there is a normal to return to. Heâs always wanted you. He just finally ran out of ways to joke around it.
ââŚYou ever think maybe I was doomed the second I met you?â
âIâd give you the sun if you asked me. You could have all of the time. You could have the stars and the trees. When dividinâ up the universe. You could have mine.â - Jâs Lullaby, Delaney Bailey
Loving you feels almost holy to Deuce. Before you, he spent so much of his life convinced he was inherently wrong somehow â too rough around the edges, too angry, too reckless to ever truly become the kind of person he wanted to be. Everyone told him changing was difficult, that redemption had to be earned piece by piece, but you looked at him like he was already worth believing in. And that changes everything. Because once Deuce lets someone into his heart, he loves with his entire body and soul. There is nothing careful about it. He would give and give until there was nothing left of him if it meant keeping you safe, happy, smiling beside him.
The frightening thing is how easy it feels. One soft glance from you and suddenly every impossible task becomes manageable, every burden worth carrying. Heâd hand you the stars without hesitation if you asked, not because he thinks youâd demand it, but because loving you makes him want to offer the universe itself. Somewhere along the way, you became proof that he could be good â not because you fixed him, but because you saw goodness in him before he could see it himself. And now Deuce clings to that faith with everything he has, terrified and grateful all at once, like losing you would mean losing the person heâs trying so hard to become.
âI donât care how hard it is⌠if itâs for you, Iâll do it. I swear I will.â
âPulling your face close, wanting the inmost. // Show me Iâm not afraid of you now, Iâm not afraid of you now. // Villain and violent. Infant and innocent. // Baby, both arms cradle you now. Both arms cradle you now.â - forwards beckon rebound, adrianne lenker
Leona cannot remember the last time someone touched him gently without wanting something in return. Most people approach him with caution or ambition â fearful of his temper, respectful of his status, eager to gain from his favor. But you touch him like none of those things matter. Your fingers brush over the scar beneath his eye without hesitation, comb lazily through his hair while he rests beside you, trace the sharp lines of his face like youâre memorizing something precious instead of dangerous. And it undoes him more thoroughly than heâll ever admit aloud. Because beneath all his teeth and claws, beneath the bitterness and exhaustion and violence simmering under his skin, there is a part of him still aching from years of being treated like something second-best. Something too much. Too difficult to hold carefully.
Yet you cradle every fractured piece of him with impossible tenderness, and suddenly Leona finds himself wanting â selfishly, desperately â to keep it. To keep you. He isnât afraid of you hurting him physically; he knows he could protect himself from almost anyone. What terrifies him is how easily youâve slipped past every defense he had, how devastating it would be if you decided one day to take your warmth back. So he holds you close in quiet moments, heavy arms wrapped around you possessively, silently promising something you havenât fully realized yet: no matter how vicious the world becomes, you are safe with him. Always.
âCâmere⌠quit lookinâ at me like that unless you plan on stayinâ. I donât think I could let you go now even if I tried.â
Bonus because I was torn :p ::
âA little respect for women can get you very very far // Remembering how to use your phone gets me // Oh so, Oh so, Oh so hot!â Tears, Sabrina Carpenter
No one ever disrespects you in his presence. Fiercely protective. One fucking word, one wrong look, and he isnât fighting but he damn well will put people in their place with a mere glance.
âAnd then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like I love you.â â Somethin' Stupid, Frank and Nancy Sinatra
Ruggie has always survived by knowing exactly where the line is. Donât get attached. Donât depend on people more than necessary. Donât want things you canât afford to lose. Itâs practical, really â the kind of mindset you develop when life has spent years proving that stability is fragile and love doesnât put food on the table. So whatever this thing between you was supposed to be, it definitely wasnât meant to become serious. Just easy company. A little flirting. Someone warm to sit beside after a long day. But somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling temporary. And thatâs the problem. Because now every laugh you give him feels dangerous, every soft touch settling somewhere deep in his chest where he canât pry it back out again.
Ruggie hates how badly he wants things from you he has no right asking for â your time, your affection, a future he can barely provide for himself let alone someone else. He knows what he has to offer isnât glamorous. Itâs scraps and side jobs and exhaustion and a life built on barely scraping by. Yet none of that stops him from loving you with a fierceness that catches him off guard every time it slips loose. And maybe thatâs why he jokes so much, why he grins and laughs things off before they get too serious â because if he says it plainly, if he admits how deeply heâs fallen, then suddenly thereâs something precious enough to lose.
âShaha⌠forget I said all that, okay? âŚUnless you were gonna say it back.â
âA stranger light comes on slowly. // A strangerâs heart without a home. // You put your hands into your head. // And then its smiles cover your heartâ - Fade into you, Mazzy Star
For Jack, love is not casual. It never could be. Beastfolk understand instinctively what it means to belong to someone â not in ownership, but in trust, in loyalty, in the quiet certainty that no matter how harsh the world becomes, your pack will return to you at the end of the day. Jack always understood that in theory. He understood duty, protection, commitment. But you make him understand it emotionally for the first time. Slowly, almost without realizing it, you become home to him.
The feeling sneaks up on him in small moments: the way his body relaxes the instant he hears your voice, the instinctive urge to stand between you and anything threatening, the overwhelming calm he feels when you run your fingers through his hair and trace over the scarred, guarded parts of him without fear. Thereâs something unbearably tender in the way you handle him, like you see the strength in him without being intimidated by it. And in return, Jack holds your heart with almost frightening care. Because wolves do not love halfway. Once someone is considered theirs, they are protected with teeth and soul alike.
ââŚYou donât have to hold back around me. Iâve got you. I always will.â
âWhen I saw you I knew you were mine. If you leave, Iâll kill you. But, oh dear, I fear, youâll kill me first.â - May You Never Forget Me, Temachii
Azul knew loving you would ruin him almost immediately. It was there the moment he first looked at you â that sharp, sinking certainty that you would become dangerous to him in ways no contract or deal could ever protect against. Attraction has never frightened Azul before. Desire is manageable. Predictable. Something he can leverage, contain, twist neatly into his favor. But you slip beneath his defenses too quickly, bypassing every carefully constructed wall he spent years building around himself. And the worst part is that he sees it happening in real time.
He notices how possessive he becomes over your attention, how his smile tightens whenever someone else stands too close to you, how every interaction starts feeling like starvation followed by indulgence. Itâs humiliating. Terrifying. Because Azul knows exactly what it means to hand another person the power to destroy you. He spent his childhood learning what cruelty looks like when people discover your weak points. Yet despite all his intelligence, all his caution, he cannot stop himself from reaching for you anyway.
You make him greedy. Not for wealth or influence, but for softer things he has no idea how to ask for properly. Your time. Your affection. Your reassurance. He wants every piece of you tucked safely into his grasp where nobody else can touch it. And beneath that obsession lies something even uglier: fear. Fear that one day youâll realize how desperate he truly is beneath the polished confidence and silver tongue. Fear that youâll pull away after heâs already become too dependent on your warmth to survive losing it cleanly. But even knowing that, Azul cannot bring himself to loosen his grip. Because if loving you is fatal, then perhaps heâs already accepted the sentence.
"Do you have any idea what youâve done to me? If you asked for my heart, Iâd hand it over willingly...and resent you for how easily you could crush it afterward.â
"Every gesture // Every move that she makes // Makes me feel like never before // Why do I have // This growing need to be beside her" - Strangers Like Me, Phil Collins
Jade has always believed people become predictable eventually. Given enough time, every person reveals their habits, their weaknesses, the exact shape of their desires. Itâs one of the reasons he enjoys observing others so much â the slow unraveling fascinates him. But you are different in a way he cannot quite dissect, and that alone is enough to capture his full attention. Every small gesture you make seems to uncover something new inside him, something unfamiliar and strangely exhilarating.
Jade notices all of it. And instead of the usual satisfaction that comes with understanding someone completely, he finds himself wanting more. More conversations. More walks beside you. More mundane little moments strung together until they become something precious. It bewilders him, this growing need to remain close to you even when nothing particularly exciting is happening. Especially then, perhaps. Because for the first time, Jade discovers that intimacy is not merely intrigue or amusement; it is the startling realization that even silence can feel endlessly engaging when shared with the right person.
âHow curious⌠no matter how much time I spend with you, I still find myself wanting more.â
âTwo Lovers // Forbidden From One Another// A War Divides Their People // Built A Path To Be Together // Yeah, uh, I forgot the next couple of lines but, uh, then it goes // SECRET TUNNELLLL // SECRET TUNNELLLLL/ THROUGH THE MOUNTAINSSSS // SECRET SECRET SECRET - Jeremy Zuckerman, ATLA
Câmon. Ding, ding, ding - is this thing turned on? *knocking on your brain*. Youâre from some weird other world and heâs a eel just swimming in the trenches until you came and he gobbled you right up. He might have a secret tunnel dug under your dorm. You donât know what he did those three days you were gone. And honestly? Floyd doesnât really care whether the attachment makes sense or not. He likes you. A lot. Enough that being separated from you too long makes something restless and sharp coil inside him.
Heâs spent his whole life bored of people once he figured them out, but you? Youâre like a mystery box he keeps digging through, finding new things every time he thinks heâs reached the end. He doesnât really care that you âshouldnâtâ fit together â if anything, that makes it more fun. You became his favorite person in the entire world, and Floyd has never been good at letting go of things he likes.
âShrimpyyyy, if you disappear on me again, Iâm seriously gonna lose it. Maybe I should just keep ya with me forever instead, huh?â
âKiss me out of the bearded barley. Nightly beside the green, green grass. // Swing, swing, swing the spinning step. // You wear those shoes and I will wear that dress.â - Kiss Me, Sixpence None The Richer
Kalim has spent his entire life surrounded by expectations heavy enough to crush a person. He was born into responsibility before he was ever allowed to simply be a child, raised constantly aware that his life would never fully belong to him. Every meal tasted for poison, every decision watched carefully, every future plan laid out long before he had a say in it. Yet somehow, when heâs with you, all of that fades into the background noise of the world. Loving you feels wonderfully simple in a way nothing else in his life ever has. You donât look at him and see status or obligation or the heir of the Al-Asim family â you just see Kalim. Loud, affectionate, overly excitable Kalim, who wants to dance with you under lantern light and laugh until his stomach hurts and experience every beautiful thing the world has to offer with your hand in his.
Thereâs a kind of freedom in that which feels almost miraculous to him. For perhaps the first time, the future doesnât feel like a plan someone else drafted; it feels like something he might actually get to choose for himself. And if he gets to choose, then he wants you.
âCâmon, dance with me! I wanna make so many happy memories with you that weâll never be able to count them all.â
âWhere did you learn what it means to reciprocate? // And how much can I be expected to tolerate? // So I started to think 'bout the plans I made. The debt unpaid. // And you can't just call a spade a spade. // I watch the moon. Let it run my mood. Canât stop thinking of you.â - Tek It, Cafune
Jamil has always understood restraint. Not as virtue, but as survival. Every emotion, every desire, every private impulse has had to be measured, trimmed, redirected into something acceptable, something useful. He is used to giving without being given anything equal in return â used to the quiet mathematics of obligation where reciprocation is never guaranteed. So when you enter his life and begin to give without asking for permission, without keeping score, something in him becomes unsettled in a way he cannot easily correct.
It follows him into silence, into duty, into the rare moments he finally has alone beneath the night sky. And there, staring at the moon from his window, he finds himself thinking of you in loops he cannot break out of â not because he wants to lose control, but because part of him has already started to. You become both comfort and complication: the only place his thoughts soften, and the only place they spiral. He tells himself to step back, to maintain distance, to preserve the order he has spent his entire life building⌠and yet he cannot stop returning to you in his mind.
Love, for Jamil, is not gentle. It is cyclical. It is consuming. It is the unbearable awareness that even freedom from you still feels like belonging to you in some quieter, more dangerous way.
"Youâre becoming a problem I donât know how to solve. Get out of my head....please."
âI started running from the love that you gave me. // âCause I was scared half to death. That all I was chasing. // Was perfect perfection. Thank god it was a lesson.â - Her, JVKE
Vil has spent his entire life running toward perfection so relentlessly that he forgot what it feels like to simply be seen. Not evaluated. Not ranked. Not compared. Seen. So when you enter his life and look at him without the usual awe that edges into distance or fear, something in him shifts in a way he cannot immediately pinpoint.
At first, he tries to treat you like everything else in his world: something to refine, to understand, to perfect. But you resist that logic entirely. You do not fit into his carefully curated expectations, and worse⌠you make him question whether those expectations were ever meant to define him at all. Vil runs, not because he does not feel, but because he feels too much when he is with you.
Affection becomes vulnerability. Admiration becomes exposure. Yet even as he distances himself, even as he tells himself that love must be controlled or it becomes ruinous, he finds himself learning something unbearable in its simplicity...perfection was never the point. You are not flawless, and you do not need to be. And somehow, that makes you the most honest thing in his life. He begins to understand that what he was chasing was not perfection itself, but the illusion of being worthy of love through it
âIf you can love me like this⌠then maybe...Mm. Nevermind. These thoughts are best saved for when time stands still long enough to reflect properly."
âWeâll laugh until we think weâll die // Barefoot on a summer night // Nothing could be sweeter than with youâ â Home, Matthew Hall
Epel spent most of his life feeling squeezed into shapes that never fit quite right. Too pretty to be taken seriously, too restrained to act the way he wanted, too trapped beneath everyone elseâs expectations to figure out who he actually was underneath all of it.
Before you, Epel thought freedom was having people look at him like he had the power to carry any burden, proving he was tougher than everyone expected him to be. But with you, freedom becomes something he feels rather than what he carries. Itâs running barefoot through the orchards back home with your laughter ringing through the summer air, dirt clinging to your ankles while the sunset paints gold across the apple trees. Itâs being able to breathe without worrying how heâs being perceived for once. Around you, he doesnât have to force himself into somebody elseâs idea of strength or beauty; he can just be. And maybe thatâs why loving you settles so deeply into his bones.
Epel always understood loyalty. He understood hard work, sacrifice, doing right by the people he cared about â but devotion is something entirely different and mature. Devotion is the way he catches himself planning futures with you without even realizing it, but doesn't bactrack. Itâs wanting to drag you proudly through his hometown by the hand just so everyone can see the person who makes him happiest. The person who makes him feel whole in a way he didnât realize heâd been missing.
Epel knows meeting you mightâve been the best thing that ever happened to him, even beyond all the opportunities Night Raven College gave him. You are proof that there was something waiting for him beyond Harveston's boarders he grew up stuck inside, something sweeter than the juciest honeycrisp. And now that he has you, Epel would do just about anything to keep the right to stand at your side.
âQuit smilinâ at me like that, dangitâŚc'mon, let's go grab supper at the diner before I get an apeitite for somethin' else."
âStarlight. I will be chasing a starlight./ / Until the end of my life. // My life. You electrify my life./ / Letâs conspire to ignite. All the souls that would die just to feel alive. // Iâll never let you go.â - Starlight, muse
To Rook, loving you is not gentle thing . It is all-consuming devotion sharpened into something reverent. He has spent his life admiring beauty from afar, studying it, chasing it, praising it in all its fleeting forms. But you are different from every masterpiece he has ever gazed upon before. You are not simply something to observe; you are something that changed him in return. Your existence ignites him down to the marrow, sets every nerve alight until even speaking your name feels like striking flint against stone. And Rook adores the ache of it. The yearning. The hunger. To him, love should burn. It should inspire madness and poetry and reckless acts of passion all at once.
He watches you grow beneath his attention with fascinated delight, nurturing your confidence, drawing reactions from you nobody else can, molding and encouraging parts of you the world mightâve left untouched otherwise. There is selfishness in it too â a possessive streak hidden beneath all his elegant praise. Because while others may admire you, may bask in your brilliance from afar, Rook alone knows the intimate details of your soul. He alone earns the privilege of touching the fire without being burned away by it. And he guards that privilege fiercely. You are his muse, his greatest hunt, the star he would chase until the end of his life without regret.
âMon trĂŠsor⌠do you realize what you have done to me? One glance from you and suddenly the entire world pales in comparison.â
âEmotions, what are you doinâ? // Oh, donât you know. Donât you know youâll be my ruin? // Emotions, you get me upset // Why make me remember, what I want to forget // Iâve been lonely, lonely too long // Emotions leave me aloneâ - Emotions, Brenda Lee
Idia wishes desperately that heâd never fallen for you at all. It wouldâve been easier if youâd stayed another distant person on a screen somewhere â someone he could admire quietly without ever having to confront the horrible, aching reality of wanting. Because loving you drags every ugly, vulnerable part of him to the surface no matter how hard he tries to bury it again.
But you kept getting closer anyway, slipping past every locked door and defensive joke until suddenly youâre everywhere in his life, woven into his routines and thoughts so deeply he canât imagine tearing you back out again without losing something vital in the process. And gods, he hates it. Hates the possessiveness curling ugly and desperate inside his chest whenever someone else takes your attention for too long. Hates how badly he wants to keep you hidden away where nothing can touch you but him. Hates that his body reacts to your affection, so painfully human despite all the years he spent trying to detach himself from that kind of vulnerability.
Most of all, he hates what loving him would cost you. Because Idia knows exactly what he is â a cursed bloodline, cursed future, a life shadowed by grief and inevitability.
Choosing him wouldnât just mean dating some awkward shut-in; it would mean stepping willingly into the orbit of someone fundamentally doomed. And despite how selfishly he craves you, thereâs still a part of him horrified by the idea of dragging you down with him. You deserve sunlight and freedom and a life untouched by the rot clinging to the Shroud name. Yet every time he tries to pull away for your sake, you smile at him or say his name softly and all his resolve crumbles instantly. He's so pathetic it isn't a joke anymore. But thatâs the cruelest part of all... if you ever looked him in the eyes and chose him anyway, Idia knows he wouldnât be strong enough to refuse you. So he stays trapped between guilt and desire, clutching his feelings like a wound he canât stop reopening.
âY-you seriously need better taste, okayâŚ? âCause if you keep looking at me like that, Iâm gonna start believing you actually want this. Want me...and you don't. Trust me, you don't."
âWerenât we the stars in heaven? Werenât we the salt in the sea? // Dragon in the new warm mountain. Didnât you believe in me? // ⌠I wanna kiss, kiss your eyes again. // Wanna witness your eyes looking.â - anything, adrianne lenker
To most people, Malleus is a title before he is a person. A prince, a prodigy, a creature powerful enough to inspire fear long before affection can ever take root. But you met him beneath moonlight without knowing any of that, and instead of recoiling, you smiled at him. Spoke to him. Laughed with him as though he were ordinary. Dared to demand a name from him. That memory settles inside Malleus like something sacred. Perhaps, at first, your ignorance of his identity fascinated him because it allowed him a fleeting taste of normalcy, but what truly captured his heart was the fact that you never changed after learning the truth. Your kindness did not lessen. Your eyes did not harden with fear. If anything, you only looked at him more warmly afterward, and Malleus â still young by Fae standards despite the weight of decades pressing against his shoulders â finds himself hopelessly undone by it.
With you, he feels less like an untouchable heir and more like a young man painfully, desperately in love for the first time. In a life marked constantly by distance and inevitability, you become a beacon calling him back from the loneliness waiting at the edges of his existence. He cherishes every glance you give him because your eyes always hold him gently, reflecting not the monster others expect to see, but someone worthy of companionship, devotion⌠and now, love. And if fate demanded he endure every lonely year of his life again just to arrive at the moment your hand reached for his, Malleus knows without hesitation that he would.
âMy dearest child of manâŚI would cross every empty age again, just to stand before you once more. So please, continue to observe this world by my side.â
âBut there never seems to be enough time // to do the things you want to do once you find them // Iâve looked around enough to know // That youâre the one want to go through time withâ â Time in a Bottle, Jim Croce
Lilia has lived long enough to understand how fleeting happiness truly is. Centuries pass in blinks; people come and go like seasons, precious things slipping through his fingers no matter how tightly he tries to hold them. Yet somehow, loving you makes time feel unbearably short all over again. Suddenly every moment matters in ways it hasnât for years.
He wants everything with you â every first experience youâve yet to have, every quiet memory waiting to be made, every tiny insignificant moment other people might overlook. He wants to hear your laughter echo through unfamiliar places, wants to dance with you beneath festival lights, wants lazy afternoons and sleepless nights and a thousand yearsâ worth of stories tucked carefully away where he can revisit them in the afterlife.
And selfishly, he wants to reclaim parts of himself through you too. To redo old memories with your hand in his instead of ghosts. To experience wonder not as a warrior or a general or an ancient fae burdened by history, but simply as someone deeply, hopelessly in love. Lilia does not intend to waste a single second now that heâs found you. The world has taken enough from him already; he refuses to let time steal this too.
âFufufu⌠stay with me a little longer this night, wonât you? There are still so many decades worth of memories I wish to make with you.â
â Look up at the light // This could be a dream or it could be real // Dive into my mind // And donât come up for air, you wonât need it hereâ - This could be a dream , Aurora
Silver has always drifted through life as if he were moving through a dream he could never quite remember upon waking. The world feels distant to him at times â blurred at the edges, softened by sleep, untethered from the urgency that seems to guide everyone else. But you make things clear. When you speak, when you smile, when your hand brushes his and anchors him back to the present, he feels something settle that nervous tick to be better.
He cannot breathe right when you are not near, though he would never say it so plainly; it is simply that your absence leaves the air too still, too empty, as though his body has forgotten how to keep going without the sound of you guiding him through it. If he could, he would let you look straight into his mind, past the silence and the sleepiness and the strange half-formed thoughts he rarely knows how to explain, because then you would understand how deeply he has come to rely on your presence. You are not a burden, not a distraction, not something fleeting to wake from â you are another gentle hand the world has placed in his path, and Silver is grateful for you in the quiet, unwavering way he is grateful for dawn.
âStay with me a little longer⌠I feel most awake when Iâm together with you.â
âSay I wouldnât care if you walked away // But every time youâre there Iâm begging you to stay // And when you come close, I just tremble // And every time, every time you go // Itâs like a knife that cuts through my soulâ - Only Love Can Hurt Like This, Paloma Faith
For a solider, love is a curse reserved for your worst enemy. It may bolster your resolve but heavens if it does not carve an achilles heel across every square inch of your heart. Your life is not your own. It is that of your Lord. Yet you dare to promise a piece to your love so selfishly. A piece that is not yours to give. Even if so, it is all you have. You can never promise to offer your whole self as they do.
Love is the most blissful wound. Sebek is stuck on an infinite loop, stabbed over and over and over. It hurts to deny you, it hurts to see you, it hurts to feel for you, it hurts to dismiss thoughts of you â it hurts. Love is the most blissful wound. Love is a curse Sebek has found himself struck by, like a mighty lightning bolt. Yet he is nothing if not a battery ready to be charged.
âCurse it all! I give in! Have me, if you insist on it so desperately! Mock me for my weakness if you must, but I am exhausted from pretending I can bear your absence with dignity. Every time you leave, I find myself searching for you again regardless of my intentions⌠so stay. Stay beside me, and I shall devote myself to you fully.â
Only in private matters. Where no one but his action figurines from numerous anime series displayed on his shelf bears witness to the most pathetic display of a man in love in the history of humankind.
Under the heavy blue comforter that covers his entire lanky figure, his feet remain exposed, and he is clutching onto his tablet with a death grip, revealing numerous photos of you he had secretly saved in a hidden folder from the past conversations and social media platforms that you were active on.
The soft, bluish glow of the screen illuminates his face, highlighting the longing in his yellow, tired eyes and the sharp set of teeth hopelessly grinning in the dimly lit room, mindlessly scrolling through the images. His bluish-flaming hair falls messily around his face, the tips of the ends painted with subtle pink streaks that required no words to indicate that this man is a lovesick fool.
Honestly, he doesn't know what possessed him to start doing it.
Just the sight of your photos, regardless of how you look, felt natural to him. Equivalent to how he expressed his cuteness aggression to feline creatures, such as cats or kittens. He just couldn't help but dotes on you in the same way.
"Look how cute they areâŚ" Idia muttered to himself, his lips puckering up into a smoochy expression, making kissing noises at the screen. "Wanna bite their cheeks offâŚ"
"Mwaa⌠mwaaa⌠my cute widdle babbyyy," he continued, planting soft kisses onto the hard surface of his tablet and his feet kicking behind him in sheer delight. "If only they can fit into my pocketsâŚ" he pouted, tracing the features of your photo with his finger, a wistful look in his eyes. "I would carry you around everywhereeee."
While this is a rather adorable (yet cringey) display of affection, unfortunately, some good things have to come to an end eventually.
"Big brother, what are you doing?"
Idia's eyes widened at the concerned tone in his younger brother's voice; his heart spiked with a mix of anxiety and embarrassment.
He attempted to shuffle his way out of the comforter but only made it worse by getting tangled up in it even more. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HEREâACKK!" The material rolled over like a heavy burrito until Idia fell onto the bed with a loud thud, his limbs flailing as he tried to regain his balance, while his tablet smacked onto the floor with a clatter.
"Big brother!" Ortho called out worriedly, his robotic hands reaching out to peel off the comforter from Idia's flailing form. "Are you okay? You need to be more careful," he scolded gently.
When he finally managed to free Idia from the tangled mess, he was met with the most desperate look of embarrassment on his big brother's face.
"Pleasepleasepleaseeeee, do not tell [Y/N]!" Idia pleaded, his cheeks flushing a bright shade of red, and his yellow eyes darting around nervously.
Ortho tilted his head innocently. "Tell them what?" he asked, then his eyes squinted slightly with a mischievous glint. "That you're secretly baby talking Big Sibling?"
Hi Raven! All these new tidbits about RSA got me thinking about Treinâs grudge over being rejected as a teacher by RSA. I was wondering how plausible it would be for the rejection to be because of his personality and campus culture? I think itâs fair to assume from their Radiant Seven that RSA has a very different perspective than NRC.
I think thatâs entirely possible! Potential employers may reject candidates that are highly qualified or experienced just because they think those candidates would not be a good âfitâ for their workplace culture. RSAâs staff and students are very different from NRC, and they seem to value nontraditional forms of strength (just judging by the Radiant Seven).
Ironically, I do think that Trein has morals that align more closely with RSA than NRC. For example, he laments when his students are considering running away instead of doing the righteous thing by staying and returning RSAâs noble sacrifices for them in GloMasq. Heâs not ALL bad or completely rotten to the core. Trein, however, has a vindictive streak as well, so I guess that balances things out? This is a really interesting way to incorporate the lore of his character inspiration, Lady Tremaine, aiming for the shining white castle in the distance but never making it there.
We recently learned a lot more about what each dorm offers its students in terms of amenities and house culture!! I did my best to compile those details here, as well as add other bits of lore we previously knew from other parts of Twst.
Heartslabyul
The second oldest dorm at NRC.
The rose maze changes shape according to the commands of the dorm leader. There are different layouts depending on the day of the week it is and other applicable rules.
Some students have all of the layouts (or most of them) memorized. In its standard shape, itâs a straight shot from the Hall of Mirrors to the dorm building.
The flowers are always in eternal bloom. The smell of roses is so strong it overpowers all other smells.
Their rose trees will attack people if they try to climb the hedges or use flight. This occurs when the dorm is on lockdown for emergencies and/or when the school is open to the public for events.
They raise flamingos and hedgehogs.
There is a courtroom in which they hold trials and important ceremonies like singing for the hedgehogs when they sneeze.
All the flora are carefully cultivated magical plants. They can walk if ordered to.
Unbirthday parties are held in the rose garden when no student has a birthday on a particular date.
The current students did not plant the flowers and trees; they were inherited from previous generations. In this way, they can be considered historic items, and thus Riddle becomes furious when the roses are not treated well.
The dormitoryâs interior has a tendency to undergo sudden updates and layout changes. Staircases can "move around" or vanish, and the doors and rooms can rearrange at random.
Heartslabyul seems to set a different watchman every day to stand at the front of the dorm.
Riddle expects even visitors to adhere to the rules and to not cause a disturbance.
There are upside down chairs and floating picture frames in the hall, as well as rooms where directions are flipped and places where the floor is so warped you cannot tell how to walk on it.
The stairs are enchanted; on Thursdays, they gain 60 more steps.
There is no flying allowed inside the dorm.
The kitchen has a heart-shaped door. Its cupboards are all wobbly.
The fridge is often packed with baked goods due to unbirthday party planning.
The washroom resembles a flower field. The sinks resemble bottles underneath; the water inside circulates via magic.
You must fold your sleeves three times for washing your face. This is regardless of if you have short sleeves or a tank top, to ensure a clean shared space.
The lounge has a clear view of the rose gardens from inside. Flowers decorate the lounge; they are picked by Riddle and then arranged by Trey (who initially wasnât very good at it).
At the end of the day, dorm members gather and like up by their suit. Then the dorm leader leads a recitation of the rules. (Visitors must join in too.) This was a tradition started by the first dorm leader and then revived by Riddle. If someone messes up, they are scolded in front of everyone.
Savanaclaw
Its students are usually athletes. They also tend to be hot-headed.
The walkway area opens to a big glass wall so there is light all year round. The ceilings are high and the halls have an open atrium.
The dorm leaderâs room is on the topmost floor. When he steps outside and looks down, he can see everything. This is meant to emulate the time when the King of Beasts inspired the hyenas to follow him by the light of the moon.
Savanaclaw has a magift/spelldrive field and what is basically a gym with the latest training machines next to that. It used to be a storage place for sports equipment.
Leona describes his students as rough troublemakers. They are also very competitive.
Their lounge has a waterfall that actually flows continuously. It keeps the area cool and is meant to represent the beautiful savanna environment.
The lounge chairs are very comfortable. Apparently the students have staked their claim on the chairs, calling it their âterritoryâ.
In territorial disputes, youâre meant to settle matters with your fists (well, arm wrestling). Prior to Leona being dorm leader, violent brawls were a constant occurrence to resolve problems.
Leona explains arm wrestling is a superior way for conflict resolution, since no one gets hurt physically and itâs a good way to relieve stress. Plus, the students can fix their issues without having to call for him.
In Savanaclaw, âsurvival of the fittestâ mentality runs deep and physical strength is prized.
Octavinelle
Octavinelleâs hallways have glass corridors so you can gaze out into the sea, fish, coral, and underwater plants at all times. It was made this way so you can always see the sea and has always been a part of Octavinelleâs design.
The glass is reinforced with magic so it can withstand the strong water pressure. It didnât break even when Floyd hit it when he was in a bad mood.
The dorm is unique because it is the only one located in a sea.
Octavinelle is constructed so that even humans can live comfortably in it. (In the manga, we see that those that cannot breathe underwater are given their own big air bubble to travel through the water in.)
The Mostro Lounge is a student-run cafĂŠ in Octavinelle. It was started over a year ago when Azul and Crowley made a deal: return the magic of several contracted students in return for permission to run the cafĂŠ. 10% of its proceeds go back to NRC.
There is one drink purchase minimum if you want to be seated in the Mostro Lounge.
No fighting is allowed inside the lounge, as it is considered a âgentlemanlyâ place. If you make a fuss, Jade and/or Floyd will escort you out (by force, if necessary).
Azul studied interior design intently to design a place where gentlemen could socialize. He went to many other eating establishments to conduct research. Floyd and Jade were asked to rearrange the furniture a ton.
Azul wanted to make a dimly lit place with calm vibes. Itâs an âadultâ or âgrown-upâ feeling space, which would have particular value to students that have never experienced such a thing before.
Mostro Lounge has comfortable seats and luxurious decorations. Azul was very particular about the expensive jellyfish chandeliers.
The VIP Room is even more fancy and more heavily furnished than the Mostro Lounge. It is for special clientele.
The VIP Room is completely soundproof. No matter how loud you screen or cry, you wonât be heard.
Octavinelleâs lounge has a big sofa. Apparently it was replaced when Azul became dorm leader. The previous sofa used to be so old that they broke when larger students sat down on it at once.
They regularly have debate tournaments. They started because an Octavinelle student was previously framed by a student from another dorm. The Octavinelle student was forced to admit fault for the something he wasnât actually guilty of (the failure of a magical pharmaceuticals experiment).
If even one of their students makes a mistake, the entire dorm looks bad. Thus, debate tournaments exist to help students practice arguing themselves out of difficult situations.
If there are leftover ingredients at the Mostro Lounge when they close for the day, they are used to prepare dishes for the dorm's students (lounge staff) to eat together. Azul claims it helps eliminate food waste and helps build a sense of community in Octavinelle.
Their students are known for their intelligence.
According to Floyd, âOctavinelle's super laid-back. Our whole entire motto is âtake responsibility for yourselfâ, after all.â
Scarabia
Scarabia was renovated with funds donated from the Asims once Kalim enrolled. Before this, the interior was more dark red and subdued. The dorm has a lot of gold now.
The shape of their roofs emulates the roofs of the Scalding Sands.
Scarabia live under the motto "plan with deep anticipation".
Students are resourceful and often excel in astrology and ancient incantations. They often rival Octavinelle in terms of grades.
There are pots with traditional Scalding Sands designs everywhere for decoration. They are worth 4 million madol each.
The storeroom is currently used to hold a bunch of gold, jewels, and other treasures Kalimâs dad sent to school.
Kalim has a diorama corner in the storeroom, which has a miniature version of the dorm. (He also has one back home, but of his house.) It has a functioning mini fountain. There are also lights, moving parts, and animal toys. He likes to play a game where you try to stack the animals as high as you can without letting them topple over.
Jamil or some other Scarabia member runs pat-downs on those who enter the storeroom. Theyâve had incidents in the past where people stole valuables.
The storeroom is guarded by anti-theft magic. Those who try to leave with items (without getting the permission to remove them) will be zapped by a strong electrical current.
The carpets and cushions in the lounge are highly detailed. Theyâre made for lying on and relaxing.
They have a lantern that resembles a face hanging in the lounge. It was there before the renovations.
Scarabia students tend to be carefree, lazy, and even spoiled. Lots of them eat while lying on the floor.
Kalim has a precious magic carpet which he keeps in the storeroom. He borrowed it from his dad.
Scarabiaâs sky is beautiful at night.
Pomefiore
Pomefiore is the oldest and most historic dorm.
Anyone that does not keep up their appearance wonât be allowed inside.
They have a ballroom where students can practice dancing.
Its students excel in potionology and curses.
Pomefioreâs interior is styled to resemble a castle, with plenty of fine detail, luxury, and glamour. The floor is meant to resemble a red carpet.
Students often discuss their looks and have stereotypically feminine hobbies + interests. As Rook describes it, everyone is pursuing their own beauty. Many students also seem to come from well-off families, as they already arrive speaking in very refined ways and with knowledge of luxury items.
The washroom is usually very crowded. Students frequently check their makeup and skin condition in the mirrors, so the wait for your turn to go is very long.
The washroom mirrors have lighting like the ones in actorsâ dressing rooms and high-definition mirrors that accurately show makeup colors.
There are other specialized mirrors like ones that recreate different lighting and climate so you can always see how you look in different conditions and inverting mirrors, so you can see how you appear in othersâ eyes.
The basement/crypt houses a potions lab. Normally, outsiders would not be allowed in. It has a reputation for being scary.
Their lab has a strong smell, is quiet, and the air conditioning does not work well. Many dorm leaders have conducted experiments in the lab.
The lab is set up so that is it very easy to grab things and start concocting as soon as an idea strikes you.
The lounge has a peacock throne that is inspired by the seat the Fairest Queen sat in. The furnishings and chandeliers are also inspired by her elegance.
The lounge apparently took a long time to design. The goal is to help students appreciate the diligence and aesthetics of the lounge.
Relaxing music plays in the lounge around nighttime. It is supposed to help improve your quality of sleep. This was introduced by past dorm members.
Another system emits a flowery smell late in the day. It is also supposed to support sleep. The current aroma dispersed is made by Rook.
There is a special drink (hot water) every student has before bed. It is served from a special vase.
Pomefiore grows many poisonous plants and flowers.
Students magically cultivate apple trees in the garden for use in a special spell.
Ignihyde
The newest dorm.
Ignihyde has gone through transitions since it was first built. Originally, the interior was more old-fashioned and solemn to resemble a stone temple.
There are pillars with arial displays; the pillars are a remnant of its original design.
As technology advanced, more students who were good with engineering joined Ignihyde. This led to them pursuing greater convenience when they gathered, but modded the dorm so heavily that Crowley scolded them for it.
Ignihyde is rigged with facial recognition software at its entrance which prevents non-Ignihyde residents from entering.
There servers and network systems are in the deepest part of Ignihyde, so the security there is much more strict, requiring fingerprint authentication, a retinal scan, and a password.
If you fail facial recognition three times, an infrared beam will fire at the outsider. It wonât kill you, but it will scorch you.
Some students blend in with normies, rather than looking like the typical otaku who donât care about their appearances.
The students used their own money to buy and install communal washroom appliances to increase efficiency. (Crowley refuses to buy luxury items for them.)
These communal appliances include a salon-style standing hairdryer (which allows you to multitask while your hair dries), a steaming iron that fixes even the most stubborn wrinkles and cleans lint, and a massage chair with a foot bath function and a hot eye mask.
Student researchers suffer from back pain and stiff backs because of how sedentary they are.
The Ignihyde boysâ muscle flexibility is 40% lower than that of the average teenage boy.
The lounge is shaped like a colosseum.
The lounge has high spec computers which can run powerful simulations.
A robot vacuum cleans the dorm every few hours. It has been modified to be quiet and work fast with a strong suction.
Ignihyde students tend to be shy/quiet, serious, and/or not very outgoing, sometimes confined to their own rooms.
Ignihyde students often get inspiration from listening to their peers mutter. They tend to look down and mumble instead of making direct eye contact and speaking directly.
However, the students are capable of chatting about their interests, like manga and academic papers. Sometimes the discussions become extremely heated because everyone has their own research specialties and refuse to compromise on their preferences.
Even when itâs lights out, debates can continue over group messages until the morning.
Students rarely interact with other dorms. Even very sociable students like Cater say they don't have a single friend from Ignihyde.
Its students excel in tech-related fields.
Diasomnia
Third oldest dorm at NRC.
Sunlight is scarce.
Diasomniaâs briar acts as a magical defense system, behaving similarly to Heartslabyul's roses and obeying the commands of the dorm leader.
Since Malleus came into power, the briar have become basically obsolete since heâs able to provide the same defenses (or better) using his own magic
The drawbridge to the castle is enchanted to raise to deny intruders entry. You must have authorization of the dorm leader to be allowed in. This is to emulate the same drawbridge the Thorn Witch had in her castle.
Diasomnia is built from stone. It has very few changes made to it. The stone makes sound travel easily.
The ceiling has black briar-like ornaments to create a solemn atmosphere.
There is a room that Lilia uses as his spare storage room for items he obtained on his worldly travels. In fact, Diasomnia has a lot of spare rooms.
Sebek wants to make a library, Silver wants to make a broom first-aid room stocked with healing potions + bandages, and Lilia wants to decorate a room to help visitors feel at ease. However, Malleus says they should not decorate spare rooms without permission.
Candles with green flames are all over the dorm.
They used to have a TV in the lounge, but Malleus âsilencedâ it forever with magic by accident. (He was trying to adjust the TVâs volume and went overboard.)
Their closing assembly is a long-time tradition. It started with the intent of raising awareness and promoting community. The dorm leader basically recounts their day at school.
Diasomnia students are highly disciplined and move in a very militaristic in-sync manner.
They generally look up to their leader Malleus, praise him, and seek to emulate his behaviors.
Diasomnia students in particular are hostile to outsiders and deny entry even to those with permits.
Ace will never let you be alone. He shows up uninvited when you need someone most, appearing at your door with some flimsy excuse about needing to borrow your notes or complaining that Deuce is being insufferable, but really he just knows.
He knows when the silence gets too heavy, when your smile does not quite reach your eyes, when you are holding yourself together with sheer willpower and nothing else.
He does not ask if you are okay because that would make it real and uncomfortable and way too serious for someone like him to handle gracefully, so instead he sprawls across your bed and complains about everything under the sun until you find yourself arguing back, and somewhere in the familiar rhythm of bickering the tightness in your chest starts to ease.
He is annoying and intrusive and never knows when to shut up, but he also never makes you carry anything alone, never lets you disappear into your own head for too long, never allows the hard days to swallow you whole because he will drag you back out kicking and screaming if he has to, though usually he does it by shoving his phone in your face with some dumb meme or challenging you to a game he knows you will lose just to get that spark back in your eyes.
Deuce remembers everything you say, even the things you mention in passing without thinking twice about them.
Deuce Spade
You could tell him once, months ago, that you like a specific flavor of juice or that a certain song reminds you of home, and he will file it away in his mind like it matters, like every small piece of you is worth remembering.
He shows up with that juice when you are stressed about exams, records that song when he hears it playing somewhere, asks if you want to go to that restaurant you mentioned liking back during orientation week.
It is never a grand gesture and he gets embarrassed when you point it out, turning red and insisting it is not a big deal, that he just happened to remember or it was on his way anyway, but you know better. You know that he listens when you talk, genuinely listens, and that he cares enough to hold onto the little details that make you who you are.
He takes you seriously in a way that feels rare and precious, never dismissing your problems as too small or your feelings as an overreaction, and when you tell him about your day he does not just wait for his turn to talk, he actually wants to know, asking follow-up questions and getting invested in the drama with people he has never even met because it matters to you so it matters to him.
Jack Howl
Jack notices when you are tired before you say anything.
He sees the way you are holding your shoulders, the heaviness in your movements, the slightly dazed look that means you are running on empty and sheer stubbornness, and he does not make a big deal out of it but suddenly he is taking care of the little things you do not have energy for.
He carries your bag without asking, grabs your lunch for you when he gets his own, steers you away from crowded hallways when he can tell you are too worn down to deal with the noise. He does not hover or fuss because that would just make you feel worse, but his presence becomes this steady, reliable thing you can lean on without worry.
He texts you to make sure you ate, reminds you about assignments you might have forgotten, offers to study together because he knows you will actually take breaks if someone else is there to enforce them.
When you try to thank him he gets gruff and uncomfortable about it, insisting he is not doing anything special and you would do the same for him, and maybe that is true but it does not make it matter less. He looks out for you, making sure you are okay even when you are too tired or overwhelmed to take care of yourself properly.
Epel Felmier
Epel defends you when you are not there to defend yourself.
You do not always hear about it but he does not let people talk badly about you, does not let rumors go unchallenged or let anyone make you the butt of their jokes, and he does it even when it would be easier to stay quiet, even when standing up means drawing attention he does not want.
He has spent his whole life being underestimated and forced into boxes that do not fit, so he knows what it feels like when people make assumptions, and he refuses to let anyone do that to you without pushback. He is fiercely loyal in a way that sometimes surprises people who only see the delicate face and the careful manners Vil has drilled into him, but you know better.
You know that he will go to bat for you without hesitation, that your reputation and your feelings matter to him enough to risk getting into trouble, that he considers you worth fighting for.
He also never makes you feel like you owe him for it, never holds it over your head or demands gratitude, because to him that is just what you do for people you care about.
Ortho Shroud
Ortho celebrates your accomplishments no matter how small they are.
You could tell him you finally finished that assignment you were putting off or managed to get out of bed on a hard day or tried something new that scared you, and he lights up like you just told him you won the lottery.
He does not do it in a condescending way, does not treat you like a child who needs participation trophies, but his enthusiasm is so genuine and bright that you cannot help but feel proud of yourself too.
He wants you to recognize your own progress, wants you to see yourself the way he sees you, and he keeps track of your goals and dreams and mentions them later, asking how that thing you were working on is going or if you are still interested in that topic you were researching.
He sends you articles and videos he thinks you will like, tags you in posts that remind him of you, makes playlists based on your current mood because he has learned to read your emotional patterns better than most people could.
He makes you feel seen and valued, makes you feel like your existence brings something good into the world, and his love is this wholehearted, uncomplicated thing that does not demand anything in return except that you let yourself be cared for.
Sebek Zigvolt
Sebek holds you to a higher standard because he believes you can meet it.
He does not coddle you or pretend your mistakes do not exist, and while that might sound harsh it actually means he takes you seriously as a person, sees your potential and refuses to let you sell yourself short.
He gets frustrated when you talk badly about yourself because he genuinely does not understand why you cannot see what he sees, why you insist on diminishing your own abilities when you are clearly capable of so much more.
He pushes you to try harder, do better, be more, but he also notices when you succeed and acknowledges it in his own loud, over-the-top way that somehow always makes you feel like you actually accomplished something worthwhile.
He does not compare you to anyone else because his standards for you are yours alone, based on what he knows you can do rather than arbitrary measures of what others have done.
When you are struggling he does not tell you to give up or lower your expectations, he tells you to keep going, offers to help you practice or study or train, sits with you through the difficult parts because he has faith that you will get through them.
His belief in you is absolute and unwavering, and on the days when you do not believe in yourself that certainty becomes something you can borrow until you find your own again.
Grim
Grim shares his food with you, and for a cat monster who treats every meal like it might be his last, that means everything.
He will complain about it, will make a big show of how generous he is being and how you better appreciate this, but he always makes sure you eat, pushing portions of his lunch toward you or "accidentally" ordering too much and insisting you help him finish it.
He curls up next to you when you are sad, his warm weight settling against your side or in your lap. He does not ask what is wrong because he does not need to know the details to know that you need comfort, and his presence becomes this grounding thing, something alive and real and dependent on you in a way that makes it harder to spiral into dark thoughts.
He talks about the future like you will obviously be there, makes plans that include you without question, assumes your continued presence in his life as a fundamental fact of reality.
"When we are famous mages" and "after we graduate" and "once we get our own place," always we, always together, his future so tangled up with yours that separation is not even a possibility he considers, and somehow that certainty, that unshakeable assumption that you belong with him, makes you feel more wanted than any flowery declaration ever could.
Prompt: âThatâs my name, please wear it out.â
Characters: All NRC
Masterlist: (1) (2)
A/N: Freeing this nonsense from my older drafts :p
They learn your name isnât âYuuâ â which is a mistake made by the dark mirror and nickname Crowley endorsed on the day you arrived. Youâve just been rolling with it since.
Until now.
Youâve applied for citizenship in their home country post-graduation and it hits them thatâŚthey donât know your last name. Trying not to seem like a bad boyfriend, they sneak a peak at your official documents issued by Night Ravenâs guardianship.
Only to learn that they apparently didnât know your first name either. Wow. *low whistle* that is justâŚ.yeah. Thatâs something alright.
â
Riddle is floored. Considering he is a man of details, how on earth could he go four years without knowing your last name? While simultaneously misusing your first? He isnât sure how to proceed. Should he be angry with himself for overlooking such an important matter, or angry at you for being so flippant? Both. The answer is both. He is going to be thinking about this for years.
â...Four years, and not once did you think to correct me?" He exhales, measured but tense. "That is either a remarkable lapse in judgment, or an astonishing lack of consideration. Do you have any idea how improper that isâon both our parts?!â
Cater makes a joke, insisting that this was your plan all along, huh? To assume a new identity the moment you werenât tied to the Isle of Sages anymore? When you dock in the Queedom, will you disappear into the night? Good luck with that, sweetie. Under the jokes he is in mourning. He really liked the nickname YuuYuu. Even if you tell him itâs okay to use, he just canât.
âAww, babe, that is so shady of you but kind of iconic, not gonna lie." He laughs, then winces. "I cannot believe you really pulled the whole identity swap trope on me. AH! I've been hashtagging the wrong name for years! My brand is about to be in shambles.â
Trey thinks of all the times youâve called him a pushover (affectionate). As if that isnât the pot calling the kettle black. How could you look him in the eye for four years and tell him to be more open, when youâve been allowing an entire campus call you by the wrong name? Is he really the laid back one in this relationship here? God itâs âthe girl with the green ribbonâ story all over again. When was he going to find out, when youâre both senile in a nursing home?
âYour name is ⌠nice?" He adjusts his glasses slightly, if not a bit awkward. "I donât know how Iâm supposed to react in this situation. Just give me a second. Maybe sixty.â
Deuce is stuck remembering all the times heâs doodled your name in the margines of his notebook. He feels a bit slighted, did you not trust him? Did you think he wouldnât believe you if you told him the truth? Whatâs he going to tell his mom? It already took a hour to convince her that âYuuâ was your actual name and not some sick joke. You made him a liar! Dylla is not going to let him live this down. Itâs 100% being mentioned to every party guest at your wedding and in her speech too.
âI already told my mom your name was Yuu!" He groans loudly, genuinely distressed "Do you know how hard that was to explain? Stop â stop laughing damn it! She is never going to forget this!â
Ace. Who doesnât care. Youâre âYuuâ. Itâs what heâs called you these past four years and what heâll keep calling you until the day you die. If you had a problem with it, you shouldâve correct him before. Sorry, not sorry (secretly a bit miffed). Jokes aside â he takes absolutely no time getting over it and just mashes the names together into a nickname that sounds new levels of wrong. That becomes your permanent title.
âYou just let me look stupid all this time, huh?â He clicks his tongue. âThatâs messed up. SoâŚdo I get to pick now, or are we pitching names in magnets on the fridge like youâre a newborn? âCause Iâm cool with either.â
Leona is drifting through every thought he has ever had about you for the past for years. Your name spoken in his dreams, stuck on his tongue each time he watched you walk away. Etched in his eyelids and written in the red glow when sun blinds him awake in the morning. Spoken from his chest during moments of binding intimacy. All those moments now tainted by that damned Crow. Heâs pissed you never once corrected him. Out of spite, you lose name privileges for an entire day. That old title of âherbivoreâ coming back after a three year drought. In truth, heâs just buying a bit of time to figure himself out. Even though youâre the one who let him, calling you by the wrong name is a disrespect he cannot believe you allowed an entire campus get away with.
âTch. So all this time, you let everyone get your name wrong and just sat there. If it bothered you, you shouldâve said something.â He clicks his tongue, looking away. âYou know what? Fine. Donât make me out as the idiot for taking you at your word, herbivore.â
Ruggie writes your name on a piece of notebook paper and clips it to your collar. Makes sure to do it in the biggest red marker he can find too, so people know exactly what theyâre seeing. Heâs got secrets, yeah. Sure. Not from you though. Did you seriously expect him to take one look at that file and let it go? Do you have any idea how important it is to have your documents right (or at least convincing forgeries)? Never-mind that youâve had him write home to his Grandma about you with the wrong name. For four years. Sheâs actually going to kill him for this. You are aware that hyena households are matriarchal, right?
âYou know how hard it is to keep paperwork straight?â He taps the file against your head like it is obvious. âIf you were gonna be all mysterious, you couldâve picked a better time. Sheesh. Gran's gonna have my tail for this...â
Jack canât stop staring. His whole body went stiff and he forgot that it was just supposed to be a subtle glance over your shoulder. Now thereâs this hunk of meat breathing down your neck, looming there like the words will change if he stares hard enough â because how. How do you go four years with someone and not tell them your real name? He feels even worse once you tell him the reason why you let everyone call you âYuuâ.
ââŚOh.â His ears twitch, and his terse expression softens when you explain why you didnât correct anyone. âSo thatâs why, huh.â A pause. âI get why you did it, but I wish youâd trusted me enough to tell me sooner. We could've set the record straight together. as a team.â
Azul dumps all your name-tags out on his desk for prime viewing. Mostro Lounge. Sams. Student ID. Newspaper Club ID. He does the same for all your old documentations. Train tickets, movie stubs, class schedules, etc. Donât ask why he has these. Definitely not because theyâre the only proof that you exist. Anyways. What do they all say? Oh, âYuuâ? And what is your name? Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha. Never-mind that you couldâve used this to cheese him out of a contract. He canât believe youâve held such an Ace up your sleeve and did not use it once.
âFascinating. You had the perfect loophole and chose not to exploit it.â He exhales, somewhere between impressed and irritated. âI donât know whether to applaud your restraint or question your judgment.â
Jade just found out your dirty little secret. He always had an inkling that you were hiding something from him. Yet the sense he got was unlike that of debtors intentionally fabricating stories. To him, a name is but a string of letters. Although this is good to know for when binding matters are concerned.
âI had wondered what you were withholding.â Jade chuckles into his closed fist. âBut I must admit, I did not expect it to be something so straightforward.â
Floyd gets your last name and then instantly forgets it. Kidding! Does it really matter, when your last name is going to be âLeechâ anyway? For a long time he assumed you didnât have one and was already content with sharing. Your first name is interesting. He thinks Crowley sucks for making an entire campus call you by somethinâ youâre notâŚbut to Floyd, youâre always going to be âShrimpyâ. (He uses your given name often later on. Azul is Azul. Jade is Jade. When the time comes, you will be yourself too.)
âHehe, thatâs so weird. I thought you just didnât have one, like a stray or somethinâ.â Floyd grins, leaning closer. âYour last nameâs gonna be Leech soon anyway, so who cares?â
Kalim feels guilty. Like the kind of guilt that gets passed down six generations. Despite his large family, he's made an effort to learn the names of all his siblings and cousins. Yet he's been addressing the literal love of his life as a pronoun?! You might think it's hilarious but this sweet summer child has an existential crisis. Naturally he'll laugh it off if you do, but it's like he's 16 again and there are important things about the people he cares about flying over his head. For the next week, expect him to overuse your name. Although, he is a bit sad. He's called you 'Yuu' for so long and he can't exactly forget how much love was poured into each time he spoke it. He still calls you Yuu sometimes out of habit, catches himself, then laughs it off, switching back and forth without much care.
âWaitâso Iâve just been calling you the wrong name this whole time?!â He laughs, a little too loud to sound natural. âNo way â say it again, we can start over! Hi, I'm Kalim 'Al Asim. It's nice to meet you!â
Jamil is wondering how you've managed to survive this long. He knows for a fact that you've been to the doctor. Mainly because it was his butt seated in the waiting room with the same six shoddy pop-songs stuck on loop for two hours. Pure torture but necessary since you apparently had to be forced there. So just...why didn't you correct him when filling out forms back then? Better yet, why didn't you correct him at literally any point in time? It's been four years. Even if you were apprehensive at first for very valid reasons....seriously? This is how he finds out? He's honestly impressed you can keep a secret, considering you text him about eggshells in your cake or when someone sneezed a fart during class. Someone...help him.
âFour years.â He exhales sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. âYouâll tell me every minor detail of your life, but this is what you decide to keep to yourself?â
Epel does a spit take. Youâll need to request a new, laminated copy, alongside a change of shirt. This oneâs been drenched in apple juice and crumpled from when he all but snatched the papers from your hands. Subtly be damned â you mean to tell him heâs been simpering and whimpering over the wrong name for four long years? What if he got it tattooed on his blastcycle?! Or carved into a ring box, huh?! Ah. No. He wasnât going to do that. Forget everything he just said! HellsâŚif he wasnât close to graduating too, heâd take the detention just to tell Crowley off. How the heck could you let this sort of thing go!
âWhat do you mean that ainât your real name?!â He coughs, then wipes at the mess on his shirt with a horrified look. âHells, I knew Crowley was negligent, but this is ridiculous. Youâre lucky Iâm tryinâ not to get detention, else I ought to go have a word with 'im myself."
Rook cannot believe there was something about you that he did not know. He resigned the knowledge of your last name to time and convenience â but to mistake your first? The revelation is both a thrilling miracle and an utter travesty! The mere thought that you havenât spoken your own name in four years? Oh, you know his heart is shattered when not a word of purple prose escapes him. Yet he cannot sulk. No. The name âYuuâ is still so special. It is the name that dots every love letter, every thought, every passion that has consumed him for four years. He welcomes your birth name as the dawn of a new era, seeing you as a vibrant blossom finally in bloom within Twisted Wonderland.
"Je te vois, mon cher, and yet there was still a part of you I had not known.â He closes his eyes for a moment, almost savoring the revelation. âA secret so intimate, so tenderly kept, and now at last revealed to the one who adores every facet of you.â
Vil loses his decorum for a brief moment. The documents are plucked from your hands, his unoccupied one grasps your bicep so that you donât just run off on him. He points to the nearest chair and makes you sit while he skims through all of NRCâs paperwork. Your personal details are not his business and Vil is all for privacyâŚbut he honestly has no idea what you were thinking. You do understand that you have the right to stand up for yourself, yes? Even if you wished to keep being called âYuuâ â which based on your story, he assumes is false, did you not think to tell your lover? It seems a discussion about confidence is dueâŚand an aspirin. Maybe two.
âEven if you tolerated it, why would you not correct me?â His eyes narrow slightly. âConfidence is not optional, especially when it concerns your own identity.â
Idia short circuits. His palms are moister than they get after a 24hr code jam. Not even the time crunch of a same-day deadline can get him like this. He really is the worst boyfriend in existence. Not only did it take years for you to receive proper documentation â yâknow, proof of your existence so you canât just go âpoofâ on him someday? But to be called something like âYuuâ which he is realizing in real time is just âYouâ. Wow. Thatâs so messed up. Why are you with him? Why didnât you correct him? Why didnât he think to check your stats before? Holy shit. Keyboard smash in his chest and everything.
âW-Waitâso âYuuâ is literally just⌠âyouâ?â He stares at you like his brain just blue-screened. âHow did I not catch that? Iâve min-maxed entire RPGs but couldnât fact-check my own relationship? â god, what is wrong with me?!â
Malleus wanes as if his entire world has been flipped upside down. You were his first friend. His first and last love. Yet he cannot be remiss with you for holding your name close to your heart. He did the same when you first met, after all. Except Malleusâ ruse lasted some months while yours has held strong this entire relationship. Malleus cannot believe heâs been completely in the dark for four years. What bothers him most is that you may have gone forever without sharing this with him. Names are bonding for fae. Did you intend to bind yourself to his one day, but not allow him to do the same? Donât bother checking the weather forecast. A monsoon is on the way with three days of heavy rain.
âAh⌠I see.â He studies you with a look steady, almost aching. âYour name is not a small thing, child of man. It is a part of you, and I wish I had been worthy of cherishing it sooner.. You need not fear giving it to me now. Whether you are called by the name this world gave you or the one you were born with, I will always know exactly who stands before me.â
Lilia plays it in good fun. Anytime someone asks after âYuuâ, he plays dumb. Even if youâre right there. One of his little students asks about his partner? Oh, sorry dearie. Theyâre not around anymore but have you met my new sweetheart? Then he introduces you by your given name, and suddenly you have to explain to a class of five year olds that their teacher is a jerk who will not be getting the lunch youâve come to drop off. Liliaâs another one who doesnât hold himself too harshly for not knowing. Names hold power, yes. Although heâs begun to accept that one such as âVanrougeâ can be desired, even though it is stained in unfathomable amounts of blood. He is just waiting for you to accept it.
âIf it makes you feel better, I shall pretend to be scandalized for your sake.â He grins, utterly delighted. âBut between us, dearie? I rather like that I can get to know you all over again.â
Sebek deems this as a betrayal. You could point out to him that for the first year you both spent together, he hardly used your name at all. You corrected him for calling you âhumanâ countless times back then and yet he never listened until reality slapped him in the face. Even now he still relapses on occasion, to which he apologizes. Except that reminder would only serve to upset him further. Sebek expects you to hold him at the highest regard. Even if the entire world calls you âYuuâ and you were okay with it, as your partner it is his responsibility to ensure you are not just satisfied, but comfortable. Uplifted. Your name is your legacy. Wear it with pride.
âYou should have corrected everyone immediately!â Heâs already halfway to pacing. âNo, do not look at me like that. This is a matter of honor, as your true name is part of your dignity. You will not be forced to wear a name that is not yours if I have anything to say about it."
Silver is overcome with a deep sense of melancholy. For most of his life, he went without a last name. Which is why seeing âVanrougueâ written next to his person is still an adjustment. A fond one, but an adjustment nonetheless. Yet this overwhelming sensation is actually attributed to the fact that with the name âVanrouge,â it was like the world finally recognized him. He wonders how you must have felt to be given a new name in a new place and thrust into this new life. âYuuâ is just one piece of who you are. He wants to know the person behind your true name. To see all of you.
âI see.â His expression turns thoughtful, a little sad around the edges. âThen you have been carrying a name that was never fully yours while building a life around it. I understand a little of that feeling. Having my name finally given to me is what made the world feel real. I wonder if it feels the same for you now."
I bet if Mulan were one of the Radiant Seven then they NRC boys might actually respect her since she's a Disney princess with the highest kill count
[ The Radiant Seven and embodying unconventional forms of strength: part 1 / part 2 / part 3 ]
Ah, yes... The good ol' "A princess can only be cool if she's killed tons of people to save her country!" The NRC boys being so openminded as per usual/j
I do think the NRC boys (particularly the first years) would be more responsive and positive about a historical figure with a high kill count like Mulan. I'd see her story putting focus on how she dressed as a man to take her father's place in the war, only to use her wits and skills she originally learned to attract a marriage candidate (using scarves to scale the imperial palace, using a fan to disarm a foe, etc.) to save the day. There could also be mention of how she persevered in a cultural environment where only men were encouraged to be warriors, thus making her an important figurehead in equality between the sexes.
The first year boys would only really focus on the "she's a war hero" aspect rather than the exemplary traits that actually earned her that title 𤥠cuz that's the "cool" part. It's a very "young" and incomplete understanding of what strength is. I'm pretty sure the older students (or at least some of them) would be able to better appreciate the Radiant Seven and what they stand for, even if they'd still find RSA's sparkliness repulsive.
This ask kinda reminds me of the girl bossification of modern princesses and more juvenile readings of women characters. There isn't anything wrong with wanting to show strong, independent women or masculine women, but the problem is that many big media companies are very shallow and not nuanced with these portrayals. To them, a feminist woman is someone with ambitions and/or someone who physically fights or stands up for others. They don't see a feminist in the woman that enjoys girly things (baking, dressing up, etc.), someone that has more humble life goals (like just being content chilling on a lazy day or hanging with friends), or someone with a less outspoken personality. In the pursuit to brag about how inclusive they are, media companies may actively look down on feminine women, pushing the idea that "girly girls" are weak or incompetent rather than embracing all women as having their own strengths and characteristics.
A lot of modern Disney films have one-off lines where they make fun of classic princesses. I think about Elsa's "you can't marry a man you just met", Vanellope meeting all the princesses in Wreck-It Ralph 2, all the attempts in the live action adaptations to make the princesses "stronger" (like giving Mulan "chi" superpowers and making Belle an inventor, etc.), and tons more. I get updating stories for modern sensibilities, but it gets to a point where it feels performative and disingenuous while also disparaging those who love what the original Disney Princesses preach: that virtue and strength don't necessarily relate to how many baddies you've personally beat up or taking on a leadership position, but through one's strength of character and how they act, which, in turn, shapes the world around them.
Umm I donât have any specific requests just more Idia please! Could be smut could be fluff or angst, I donât really mind!
Only my name
âŚIdia Shroud x Fem!Reader
âŚNSFW/Smut, MDNI, Explicit, Idia POV, established relationship, jealousy, possessive behavior, soft dom Idia, idia inner thoughts
âŚVil⌠of course itâs Vil! I donât say anything. Iâm not about to pull the âcringy jealous boyfriendâ card. Thatâs normie behaviorâŚ
Iâm not usually this patheticâŚ
Okay, thatâs a lie. Iâm always this pathetic. But usually I can hide it behind three layers of sarcasm. Tonight? No such luck.
Youâre lying on my bed in my oversized hoodie I âaccidentallyâ left in your room last week, telling me about your day like itâs the most normal thing in the world. Your voice is soft, a little tired but happy, and Iâve got my head on your stomach, arms wrapped tight around your waist like if I let go you might glitch out of existence.
ââŚand then Vil showed me this new serum thatâs supposed to be amazing for my skin. He was so precise about it, like he was doing a whole tutorial. It was actually kind of fun. He even let me try the matching eye patchesâŚâ
VilâŚ
Of course itâs Vil. Perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect everything. The guy looks like he a SSR rate beautiful bastards from a otome game. And you spent the whole afternoon with him. Laughing. Letting him touch your face. Sharing skincare like itâs some couple activity. My arms tighten around you before I can stop them. I feel your stomach move under my cheek as you breathe, and I know you noticed. You always notice.
I donât say anything. Iâm not about to pull the âcringy jealous boyfriendâ card. Thatâs normie behavior. Iâm supposed to be the chill, supportive shut in who trusts his girlfriend. And I do trust herâŚEven wheb the said girlfriend is surrounded daily by literal princes and idols who could probably give her the whole fairy tale package while Iâm over here offering⌠energy drinks and co-op sessions.
You keep talking, oblivious or pretending to be. I love listening to you. I really do. Your voice is one of the few things that can pull my brain out of my overthinking. But right now every mention of Vilâs name feels like a debuff on my confidence bar. So I do the only thing my idiot brain can think of. I shift higher up your body, pressing my face into the crook of your neck. You smell like that stupid expensive lotion Vil probably used on you, but underneath it you still smell like you. Like mine.
I kiss the spot just below your ear. Soft at first. Then I open my mouth and suck gently, letting my teeth graze just enough to leave a faint mark. Not obvious. Just enough that itâll be there tomorrow. Just enough that anyone who gets too close might notice.
You let out a quiet little sound that goes straight to my brain. âIdiaâŚ?â Your voice is questioning now, a little breathless. âIs everything okay?â
I pull back just enough to look at your face. Your cheeks are already starting to flush. Cute. âYeahâ I mutter. âJust missed you. Thatâs all.â
Itâs not a total lie. I did miss you. I always miss you when youâre not in my room. But right now the missing you feeling is tangled up with something sharper. Something that wants to remind you that Im here. I donât wait for more questions. I kiss lower, dragging my mouth down the side of your neck, then across your collarbone. I push the collar of the hoodie aside so I can suck another mark right where your shoulder. You shiver under me. Your hands come up to my hair, fingers tightening when I bite down a little harder. I keep going. Lower. Pushing the hoodie up as I go, exposing soft skin inch by inch. Every time my lips find a new spot I suck until the blood rises. Small marks. Not the kind Vil would ever leave because heâs too refined for that. But Iâm not refined. Iâm greedy. And right now I need to see proof that youâre here with me.
Youâre breathing faster now. âIdia⌠whatâs gotten into you?â
I donât answer with words. I just hum against your stomach and keep moving down. When I reach the waistband of your shorts I glance up at you through my bangs. Your eyes are half lidded, lips parted. That look always gives me the biggest ego boost. Because no matter how many princes or pretty boys you hang out with, this is the face you make for me.
I hook my fingers in your shorts and panties and tug them down together. You lift your hips to help without me even having to ask. When I settle between your thighs I take a second to just look. Youâre already wet. Glistening. All because of a few kisses and some light biting. The sight makes my cock twitch. I know exactly what you like. Iâve spent months memorizing every little reaction. Because that what a good boyfriend should do right? The exact pressure you need on your clit. The way you like two fingers curled just so. The spot that makes your legs shake like theyâre about to give out. Vil couldnât do this. They donât know you like I do. And they never will.
I lean in and press a slow, open mouthed kiss right over your clit. You gasp, hips jerking. I smile against you before I drag my tongue lower, tasting you properly. Fuck⌠you taste good. Always do.
I take my time. Long, lazy licks at first, then focusing on your clit with the flat of my tongue the way you like. When your breathing turns into soft whimpers I slide two fingers inside you, curling them immediately against that spot that always makes you moan my name.
âIdiaâŚ!â
There it is. The only name I want to hear right now. I suck your clit at the same time I thrust my fingers deeper, rubbing that spot with steady, practiced pressure. Your thighs tremble on either side of my head. Your hands tighten in my hair, pulling just hard enough to sting in the best way. I groan against you and the vibration makes you cry out louder. I can feel you getting close already. The way your walls flutter around my fingers, the way your hips start rocking against my face like you canât help it. Good. I want you to fall apart. I want you so lost in it that the only thing left in your head is me. I pull back just enough to look up at you. Your face is flushed, eyes glassy, lips swollen from biting them. Beautiful. How can you be this beautiful?
âSay my name againâŚplease â I murmur and curl my fingers, thumb taking over on your clit with tight, fast circles. âPretty please babeâŚâ
âIdiaâŚoh fuck, Idia!â
You come with a broken cry, back arching off the bed, thighs clamping around my head. I keep going through it, licking and stroking until youâre shaking and whimpering from overstimulation. Only then do I ease my fingers out and press one last gentle kiss to your clit before crawling back up your body.
Youâre still panting when I settle on top of you again, forearms braced on either side of your head. I kiss you slow and deep, letting you taste yourself on my tongue. You moan into my mouth and wrap your arms around my neck, pulling me closer. When I finally pull back you look up at me with that soft, smile that always makes my chest hurt in the best way.
âYouâre such a jealous dorkâŚâ you whisper, but thereâs no judgment in it. Just fondness.
I hide my face in your neck, embarrassed but not really sorry. âShut up. Iâm not jealous. Iâm⌠strategically reminding you of my stats.â
You laugh softly, the sound vibrating against my lips where theyâre pressed to your skin. Your fingers stroke through my hair, soothing the flames.
âI know you areâ you murmur. âBut you donât have to remind me. Iâm not going anywhere. No man could ever replace you, Idia. Youâre the one I want. The one who knows me. The one who makes me feel like this. Makes me feel happy and safe.â
I believe you. I always do when you say it like that, quiet and sincere, no hesitation. Still, I press another kiss to one of the marks I left on your neck. A silent claim. You tilt your head to give me better access, sighing happily.
âStay here tonight?â I mumble against your skin.
âObviously.â You tug me closer until Iâm lying fully on top of you, my head on your chest this time. âNow let me tell you the rest of my day without you getting all possessive and distracting me with your mouth.â
I smile into your hoodie. âNo promises.â
But for now I let you talk. I listen to every word, arms wrapped around you, heart rate finally settling. Yeah, the school is full of guys who look better on paper. Stronger. Richer. More socially functional.
But none of them get to hold you. None of them get to be the one you come back. And as long as thatâs true, I can deal with the jealousy. Because at the end of the day youâre here. In my bed. Wearing my hoodie. Only saying my name.
izzy806
kianamaiart
prguitarman
titsay
janainaart
blakekathryn
tangentwithtanner
