— ᨳଓ . twst fan school
— ᨳଓ . regal charm preparatory is based on sofia the first
— ᨳଓ . acceptance letter
Regal Charm Preparatory is a four year institution shaped by the legacy of the Storykeeper Princess, The academy prepares its students for their future paths by helping them discover their individual talents and teaching them that true strength is found within. Every lesson emphasizes that choices matter and that each decision plays a role in shaping who one becomes.
At the heart of the school lies the Spirit of Emergence. No student enters as a complete story. Identity and purpose unfold gradually through effort, mistakes, and acts of kindness. Each student begins as a blank page, guided to explore their potential, learn from missteps, and grow into their strengths. What matters most is not where one begins, but how one emerges by choosing growth, shaping their own future, and uplifting others along the way, just as the Storykeeper Princess once did.
𖥻 ׁ ׅ random information ! ׁ ׅ ⚔️
Regal Charm is technically is a co-ed school and does accept male students, but it is regarded as a girls’ school due to its predominantly female students. ( I just want my male ocs to attend to rcp ).
Often mistaken as Royal Sword Academy sister school and does have a good relationship with them as this stem from the series where Sofia the first get helped by the disney princesses.
They have a rival school called Hex Tower College, it is based on Hexley Hall from the series and most of the staff and students are based on disney witches and wizards.
Hex Tower have a long-standing tradition of pulling tricks and pranks targeted at Regal Charm’s students as they try defeat themselves each year.
As mentioned in the post, an unknown force whisks Malleus away from Briar Valley and Twisted Wonderland as a whole and would find themselves in a different world. This is before their time in Night Raven College.
Yuu would have been living alone. This can in any way but they can be working a decent job and going to school; living their life.
How they met Malleus can vary but one thing is for certain, Yuu offers them a place to stay in their home as their roommate.
Kinda funny if you think about it. Malleus, one of the most powerful mages in Twisted Wonderland, prince and heir to the throne of Briar Valley. Yuu, a young human who works a decent job and goes to school. Both as roommates.
During his time here in your world, he would have learned new things that he didn’t in the castle. Simple things like cooking or cleaning by hand.
Since you’re teaching Malleus cooking, he would slowly learn new recipes he can make himself. He would also help you clean around the house from time to time.
He would also learn a thing or two about technology.
It is known that Malleus is not best with technology. Yuu would help them learn the ropes like a phone or some other device.
Malleus would by this point learn how to use a phone and know the basics, he still struggles but he’s there.
Malleus would still use magic from time to time but he only did it while he was at home with Yuu.
If Malleus ever wanted to go out with Yuu, he would use an illusion spell to mask his horns.
Whenever Yuu and Malleus went out, Yuu and Malleus would be this sort of parent and child dynamic, Yuu being the parent and Malleus being the observant child.
Malleus would be enamored by everything around him. Library, he’ll be reading books from there. Restaurants, he’ll be eating foods that are new to him.
I’ll also think that Malleus would become like Lilia in a way since he is going out in the world.
He’ll also want to be traveling to different parts of this world with you as well. Since you weren’t much of a traveling type, you now were.
Cities, states, countries, you’ll be visiting every place during your free time.
You’ll probably have a photo book of your travels to each location. It would either have you, Malleus, or both you in frame to every location. You’ll also have photos hung up in your home as well.
Whenever you’re at home, there are moments where Malleus would want to cuddle with you. Even in bed, Malleus wants to cuddle. Wrapping his arms around you, enveloping you in a warm hug with you doing the same.
To you, there is something about him that feels like he wants to feel love. It was adorable. To him, he wants to feel warmth, comfort in someone that he hasn’t felt in a long while during his time back in the castle.
There are also moments where both you and Malleus would speak about your lives, the positives, negatives, and the many struggles. It was slowly that both of you began learning about each other.
You saw Malleus not just as a prince, but someone who was lonely, and Malleus saw you as his very first friend.
After a few months of living together, both Yuu and Malleus would have formed a bond, either Romantic, friendship, or a familial bond. But a bond, both looking out for each other.
Malleus was your dragon-fae companion, and you were his human friend, his child of man.
Note: When I was thinking of this idea of First Year Malleus, I was thinking of The Demon King is Way Too Overprotective. I've read the first too volume, not sure when getting into the third volume. Feel free to ask questions.
yan! twisted wonderland 〖normalized yandere au〗 x gn! reader─you always had absolutely rotten luck in love. instead of the happily ever after you dreamt of in fairy tales, every relationship you had often ended on a bad note. when tossed into the world where love was prioritized, you prayed your misfortune wouldn't get in the way. wait, but how were you supposed to choose!?
⤷ 𖹭゛𝓔𝓥𝓔𝓡 ˎˊ˗
since you were as small as the twinkles in the sky, you harboured a deep fascination with the fairy tales your mother told before bedtime. the sweet promises of a happily-ever-after, shrouded in eternal love during the sunset, never failed to coax you into restful sleeps, where you were surrounded by mountains of confessions.
they never came, those childhood dreams, as time gradually eroded the wounds in your heart from the sudden passing of your family. they classified it as an accident; a car crash happened due to the downpour and the darkness of the night. your father, who would buy you books after returning from his business trips, and your mother, who would tug you into bed, had died that day. people who your little mind assumed were untouchable, invincible, the pillars of your world, had been squashed into puddles of blood for one clumsy mistake.
the funeral was grand, crowded with figures you didn't know, hushed whispers that didn't escape your ears, and judgmental glances that were needlessly cruel to a child. a bad omen, they muttered under their breath, for how else could you manage to recover from your illness after they had passed away so suddenly? for what reason would they rush to the hospital during extremely terrible weather, if not for their bedridden child whose condition was said to have worsened overnight? they didn't hide it, not when your head hung low at the caskets, hands gripped the already withered white lilies.
the man who adopted you was cold and distant. he provided you with enough materials for a growing child, never yelled at you whenever you did something out of line, and never read stories for you. the estranged brother of your mother, the maids had informed you, had only taken up this newfound burden because of his love for his sister, even though it had been years since they last talked. his heart stopped there, long before the day your mother died, and completely closed to you. you wondered what it was like to live when one had died inside, a walking corpse among humans, as you strolled around the empty mansion, passing through the gossiping maids.
perhaps the lack of warmth fueled the inexplicable link you had to your trivial fantasies, the desperation in seeking another presence to complete your unwhole being. you changed, not vastly, to embrace the virtues of the main characters from your childhood, striving to perfect every aspect of your life, from your demeanor to your social circle. each and all of it was cultivated neatly, like a dedicated artist towards their craft, to fit yourself effortlessly into the confusing mold of the world. despite your effort, luck was not in your favor: romance came and went, as fleeting as the sands slipping through your fingers. your grip was always too weak to cling to them, as your eyes landed on that same familiar sight of their backs.
the excuses varied widely, though they could be summarized into a few contrasting words. you were too overwhelming, one stated, too careless, another remarked, too emotional, they told you, and too apathetic, they surmised. it was never enough for them; you were never enough for them. but you never blamed your partners, for it was obvious to you why they would say so. after all, you were bad news, only capable of bringing bad luck to everyone around you. you tried, and tried again, like that child in the manor near the coastal sea, to perfect yourself. flaws people said were there were weeded out mercilessly overnight, a room full of clothes that allowed you to change your fashion swiftly when your current relationship demanded it.
no matter your efforts, the tribulations you experienced while getting to know your partners more intimately, all of your love lines ended with melancholy. sometimes, there were ones kind enough to admit all the faults in the relationship belonged to them, but you knew better than to be fooled by those silly notions. you were determined to be the flawless protagonist in fairy tales and get that happily-ever-after you spent your whole life chasing. it was your deepest endeavour, something you couldn't let go even if the eyes were looking at you with pity.
"stubborness is hereditary." was what your uncle said.
you could stare at his back all day long.
"i think we should break up."
".....what." you curtly responded, eyes stopped at the straw of your smoothie that came into your vision. your smile must have strained, for your partner regarded you with caution, choosing their words carefully. it was supposed to be normal for you, but it was your first anniversary with them, in your favorite spot to dine, and wearing your favorite outfit.
"i don't think we can work this out! you are just...." those words again, every time, without a stutter, they were spat into your face ruthlessly. you sat up abruptly, feeling your ears ringing with the sound of your heartbeats as you rushed out from the cafe. you couldn't handle this, regardless of how many times you had experienced it. your clutch against your collar tightened, gloved hands wanting nothing more than to claw the organ responsible for the pumping in your veins out.
you loathed how hopeless romantic you were, dreaming of an unreachable ending that was not written for your ill fate. you would die alone, like a corpse, like your uncle, with a heartbeat for no other reason than survival. panting breathlessly as a poor attempt to regain your composure after minutes of running down the roads, you failed to react accordingly to the horses coming at you.
everything turned black.
"𝐢 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞."
the winds kissed you awake. playfully gentle and chaste, they helped your eyes open quietly. the first sensation you registered was the utter comfort cushioning you, a feeling you felt whenever you would lie in your bed, squealing at the prospect of a valentine. your line of vision was obstructed by something, and when your hands instinctively reached up, you were met with soft fabric. it reminded you of simpler times, when clothes were loose on you, enough to let you wander around the house with the little strength you had. how noltasgic, but nonetheless, peculiar, as moments ago, you were walking through the streets like a lost deer. the place you were standing in, after taking a brief look around your surroundings with the hood off, was unfamiliar, from the gardening techniques to the architectural structures. everything about it screamed of danger, the kind that instincts would warn you about when you tread into an unknown realm.
your eyes were drawn to the well nearby, fingers traced against the rough surface of the bricks. what a wonderous, considering these things had mostly been extinct in large cities. to see a well here must have meant the place you were transported to was antique to an extent. curiosity tugged your upper half to lean into the seemingly pitless abyss of it, almost falling of the ledge if not for a strange voice behind you.
"be careful, child of man." you jolted up, sighing in relief not to have landed on the ground clumsily. turning around to thank your savior, you could feel the growing thumping of your heart. you had seen many models before, plastered on the fashion magazines piling up in your room and yet, the beauty of this silhoutte was simply otherwordly. your hands clasped, a sudden nervousness stuck on the tip of your tongue as your eyes darted onto the ground. it was unfair, for the world to toss such an elegance in your face after a horrible break-up. and you had already ruined your chance, with how long you took to speak up.
"....your eyes are really pretty..." both of you seemed surprised at your words, with you wishing to jump into that well again. the alluring embrace of the robes turned into a smothering hug that raised your temperature at his chuckle. this must be a dream, a wondrous imagination your mind deliberately painted to soothe your sadness, for there was no normal human you had met that had horns.
you didn't want to wake up, not right away anyways.
"i'm sorry! it's rude of me!" you waved your hands, though your heart slowed down when you heard another chuckle. he found your state amusing, not offensive.
"you did not offend me, child of man. in fact, i admire your fearlessness." your eyes were blinded by his smile, fingers itching to cover your face from it. this was the most complex dream your mind had graced you with.
"may i have the honor to be bestowed with your name?" the handsome man asked for your name first! what's next? you would be married to him amidst the cheerful tolling of the bell as the sky was spilled with the warm orange of dusk?
"uh....my name is-"
"ah, i've found you at last!" your words were interrupted rudely by the grating voice of another stranger. the alarm in your body immediately went off, from the weird outfit he donned to the bright yellow circles that locked onto you. observing, he was doing so, as though you were a lost trinket that had escaped his collection.
"i understand you first year's excitement to explore the school!" he shook his head. "but for you to loll around with.....MR. DRACONIA!?"
what a weird dream, was what your final thought as a sudden exhaustion overtook your mind.
⤷ 𖹭゛𝓜𝓐𝓛𝓛𝓔𝓤𝓢ˎˊ˗
wouldn't consider himself forgetful. however, important ceremonies slipped his mind at times, as he would rely on invitations rather than keeping a neat schedule. the dragon fae would have absolutely fumed at the headmage for daring to forget to invite him to such an important occasion, had the odd human who had complimented him not been slumping against his shoulders. he ignored the fumbling apologies from crowley and instead fixed his eyes on your sleeping form.
it reminded him of silver, and his habit of falling asleep everywhere. except, instead of looking peaceful, your face was contorted into that of clear distress, beads of sweat rolled down from your forehead. it pained him to see the early airheaded human be reduced to this state.
"i offer you my sincerest apologies, mr. draconia! it was a mere oversight from the school." crowley continued on, not long before he stopped at the sight in front of him. ah! young love! he was so glad to still be alive to witness such a thing.
"well, it seems like the new student does require some assistance to be carried to the orientation ceremony. however, my poor, frail bones cannot serve me like before..." he tried to conceal his smirk when you were tossed into malleus' embrace. for his school would be the place where the future ruler of briar valley wound find love was a massive honor.
⤷ 𖹭゛𝓣𝓗𝓔ˎˊ˗
sight, according to the fragments of gossiping you would later collect during your attendance, was nothing short of scandalous. the housewarden of diasomnia, who was once again forgotten to be invited, entered the blazing orientation with a human sleeping contentedly in his arms. the diasomnia members reacted with the most mirth, with sebek almost fainting to the ground, lilia laughing as though this were the most hilarious thing he had witnessed in centuries, and silver seemingly dissociating. even when he awoke you from your little nap, he did it with such gentleness it left the whole room in silence, despite the ongoing fire hazard.
"stop poking me...." you huffed, still in the haze of your slumber, though that soon evaporated upon the heat of the room. jumping from malleus, an action which saddened him so, your eyes widened at the blue fires dancing everywhere.
"oh god! someone-" and before you could even finish the sentence, the disaster had already been stopped by the fae's magic. when the inkling that this was your new reality started pitter-pattering in your stomach, the mirror in front of you had spoken.
"state your name." the absurd mask appeared in green flames, at which you squinted.
"[name]..." was that too short? "....[name] gallumbe."
"the nature of your soul is...."
"...."
"...."
"...."
"destructive."
fuck this mirror for ruining your dream.
a/u: since this is a normalized yandere au everything will be more fast paced compared to my other fanfics where they are slown burn lol
i was travelling and i kept getting injured so this post is a week late...
au is by @ceo.of.acejack/ @yawaaanioi (yes another peak au ♡)
this is mainly based of this tiktok ♡
i love seeing belle in sebek, and when watching beauty and the beast, seeing sebek as belle!
i also created a design for this au! (ignore my bad sprite editing skills, it was rushed)
i had asked about sebeks design and had created this, mainly with aspects of the live action emma watson belle, as i find the outfit has way more detail than the original
You know what the funniest potential shipping war for twst. The families. The family lock in and want you as their new in-law. Especially after they got to know you.
Just imagine a family day at NRC and you have a lot of people who really REALLY want to see Ramshackle and it's infamous Prefect. Who are these gifts for? Why the prefect of course. They heard how tough things can be, of course they'd love to show their appreciation for the dear schoolmate of their family!
This isn't just about love, these people are preparing for war! Mission, win the prefect's heart has begun!
The Trappola household knows all about you. Ace can try to deny it but they know. The same Ace who ghosted his girlfriend in middle school after a week. Ace Trappola who tried to find any way out of responsibility. Ace Trappola who has you in his phone contacts. Ace Trappola who most likely has many photos of you saved and his favorite is your contact photo. Ace Trappola who dropped everything at just a single text to come back to NRC because you needed help. They know he's down bad and you make him a better person so they want him to stop being a dumbass and actually ask you out! Big bro will help lil Acey learn to flirt like a pro!
Dilia 100% would be thrilled if you dated Deuce. She knows how much her son talks about you. He calls you his best friend! You're an amazing friend and a positive influence on Deuce. Deuce can be dense but it's obvious when it comes to you. She talks with her mother about it. They're both hoping the next time you visit, it's as Deuce's partner.
Marja likes you. She sees how good you are with Epel. He doesn't have to try to fit a mold to impress you. He can be himself and he likes you as well. Imagine if she found out you're the reason Epel unlocked his UM when he saved your life! Marja's already thinking about ways she can get Epel to invite you back to Harveston. Maybe during the Summer!
Lilia already likes you and he knows how important you are to Malleus, and all you did to help everybody. So don't tell me this man wouldn't absolute be ecstatic if you started dating Silver. Lilia has the added bonus of being at school with you, so he can try to play match maker.
Silver: Would you like to stay for dinner?
Lilia: Would you like to stay forever?
Georgina locks in that you're friends with both Jade and Floyd? She knows how mercurial Floyd can be and Jade's personality is well... The fact that Jade invited you to the wedding, and she sees how you to interact. She thinks you're as adorable as your shrimp nickname. You two really do resemble the symbiotic relationship of moray eels and shrimp.
Mama and Papa Shroud finding out that you're friends with Idia? He actually likes your company? You don't treat him like a creepy Otaku? On top of that you're friends with Ortho and he's a part of your close friends group? Those two are already thinking about how you'd make a fantastic addition to the family. Your energy and personality are a wonderful contrast and compliment to Idia. Just like Mama and Papa. Ortho would agree and you've got three shrouds cheering Idia on.
yan! twisted wonderland 〖dating sim au〗x gn! reader─if you want to hide a tree, hide it in a forest: that was a saying you abided by strictly after transmigrating into twisted wonderland. to avoid the many death flags from the love interests, you decided to join them, becoming the leader of the 'prefect's fan club!'
as an NPC, you knew it would be inevitable to meet with the monarch of the harem, but you didn't expect it to happen in this way. hell, you would rather have the malleus draconia showing up unannounced in your club's room rather than yuu.
why were you so worried about meeting the seemingly subjection of your adoration in flesh and blood, one might ask? because, NPCs didn't have a single moment with the protagonist. they blended into the background and, at most, would appear as shopkeepers. such a role was considered immortal, in a way, so you weren't anxious about the growing popularity of your brainchild.
if anything, the idea that the love interests would grow dependent on you for intel on yuu was what could help secure the 'unwitting magpie bridge' NPC you presented yourself as.
being alone with yuu spelled a death sentence, for only love interests had scenes like that, for one sole reason: character development. you did not want to get promoted into being the one who died because of the love interests' jealousy. thanks fate very much!
you gulped nervously, eyes darted towards the horrendous cover of the book that you put as a joke. in your defense, you were drunk out of your wits to replicate the lovesick stupor that was described about yuu's effects on others. and the wine was some good stuff too, oh the perks of being rich!
fast thinking, [name]! remember the acting script was given to you by this godforsaken game since your rude awakening! you clasped your hands, a bright smile tugged your lips as your eyes remained shut. you had rook hunt to thank for this mimic of his crazy devotion. one mistake of peeking into his room while giving him the merchandise, and BAM! the wawere was split in half with images of vil and neige. your superficial admiration terribly paled in comparison to his craziness. s an NPC, you knew it would be inevitable before meeting with the monarch of the harem, but you didn't expect it to happen in this way. hell, you would rather have the malleus draconia showing up unannounced in your club's room rather than yuu.
why were you so worried about meeting the seemingly subjection of your adoration in flesh and blood, one might ask? because, NPCs didn't have a single moment with the protagonist. they blended in with the background, and most would appear as shopkeepers. such a role was considered immortal, in a way, so you weren't anxious about the growing popularity of your brainchild.
if anything, the idea that the love interests would grow dependent on you for intel on yuu was what could help secure the 'unwitting magpie bridge' NPC you presented yourself as.
being alone with yuu spelled a death sentence, for only love interests had scenes like that, for one sole reason: character development. you did not want to get promoted into being the one that died because of the interest's jealousy, thanks, thanks fate very much!
you gulped nervously, eyes darted towards the horrendous cover of the book that you put as a joke. in your defense, you were drunk out of your wits to replicate the lovesick stupor that was described about yuu's effects on others. and the wine was some good stuff too, oh the perks of being rich!
fast thinking, [name]! remember the acting script was given to you by this godforsaken game since your rude awakening! you clasped your hands, a bright smile tugged your lips as your eyes remained shut. you had rook hunt to thank for this mimic of his crazy devotion. one mistake of peeking into his room while giving him the merchandise, and BAM! the walls were split in half with images of vil and neige. your superficial admiration terribly paled in comparison to his craziness.
"you have been waititng to meet me!? oh, prefect, i'm your biggest fan!" there were flowers, not roses certainly, blooming in the background as you began to go on a torrent of words. you purposefully darted your eyes away, giving off an impression of shyness (while ignoring the pooling dread in your stomach). it was one of the enigmas that rendered you from truly appreciating yuu: the primal fear that spiked whenever you were near their vicinity.
they were beautiful, that was factual, but there was a heavy rigidity in the way they presented themself, stiff, like a broken doll. lifelessness, that was what you saw when gazing deep into those black eyes that captured the hearts of many, all but you. every inch of your body screamed to run, to get away from the one that donned the skin of a human, but your feet were planted still into the floor below. you pushed the gradual, terrifying realization that you were paralyzed against your will back, replaced by the bravado of a devotee.
"really?" the question caused you to shiver, and you were surprised to see you hadn't tumbled over yet. you knew that look of yuu, an amused expression, as though a monarch laughing at their pitiful court jester.
oh, fuck no!
"because..." they stood up, resting the book on the table nearby and approaching you. your faces were inches apart, clasped hands rested against yuu's chest now. if you were caught in this concerningly intimate position, by just one person, it would be 'GAME OVER' for you. even one insignificant NPC could be the match to the wildfire of rumors swirling around your supposed relationship with the ramshackle's prefect. one of their arms rested above your head as your chin was tilted up to meet their piercing gaze. something about that look made you feel nauseous, as though they could see through the facade you had successfully kept up in front of others, reach through the most vulnerable part of your body.
you loathed that, the loss of control over the situation. what had you done to be tossed into this ridiculous dog-blooded game!? the only sin you had committed was drinking, and that was valid in its own way! before yuu could even continue their vague response, your hands found their strength again and pushed them off roughly onto the ground. disbelief overtook your face, as you bolted before your mind could even comprehend the sheer consequences of your actions.
"meeting cancelled for today!" you explained promptly to your members, whose faces turned crestfallen. bile crawled up on your throat, threatening to taint the evergreen of the courtyard as you wandered aimlessly through the hallway. you wanted to go back to your dorm room and drink until you could feel nothing but the sweet bliss of mindlessness.
your salvation came in the form of epel as you bumped into him on your way back to pomefiore. he was evidently angered, but his face softened upon the sight of your pathetic form.
"how did ya end up like this!? who-?" you immediately covered his loud mouth with your palms, eyes pleaded with him not to continue. he huffed in response, letting go of his pestering as he helped you steady yourself.
"what a crybaby. can't believe i will agree with vil." his words stirred confusion in you, until you felt his hands against the corner of your eyes, tears you didn't know had fallen. that was why you received weird looks from your club members, you realized woefully. however, as an NPC went, no one bothered to ask; they only saw what you wanted them to believe in, a yuu-merchandise distributor, no more, no less. although the mention of your housewarden's name snapped you out of your woes.
vil had been ranting about you....to epel!?
"what did he say about me!? epel, epel, epel!" you furiously shook his shoulders, panic contorted your pretty face. his palms curled into fists; he should not have mentioned that man in front of you. perhaps, to punish you for the absolute spectacle you made out of yourself, fate caused you to miraculously slide off the floor and land headfirst on it.
ouch!
"[name]!?" the worried voice of epel was the last thing you heard before you lost your conciousness, so much for being the president of prefect's fan club.
that was how you ended up in the infirmary, in the most face-losing way ever. you honestly pitied the original owner of this body, considering they were said to be elegant, and there was you, unruly in all aspects.
the bed was quite comfortable, so you decided to stare at the ceiling and thought of backup plans to fall back on, in case the plot needed some pushing in the form of getting you into trouble. frankly, the only image occupying your head right now was throwing the stacks of photos you had of the protagonist and running away. after all, you were rich and insignificant, so vil wouldn't even notice if you vanished from your dorm.
you smothered your head against the pillow, banging onto the mattress with both of your feet and fists. how did yuu even end up in there? where was grim, the feline creature that followed them around? everything felt terribly off about that encounter, as though you had accidentally triggered a glitch that wasn't in the game files.
"ugh... quiet down, pesky flies." you were about to throw the pillow at the source of the voice, sitting up halfheartedly before your eyes scanned the familiar.
oh, c'mon! why did you have to share a space with fucking LEONA KINGSCHOLAR!?
you just wanted some wine. and money. and freedom. that weren't too much, right!?
yuu let out a chuckle upon your grand escape, unknowingly dropping one of the keychains that had a chibi version of them on it. you remained clumsily adorable since their first meeting, though a shame you didn't remember.
but they remembered every single one of the details. gosh, they loved you so much it was almost painful, lying on the ground to take in the way your strength had caught them off guard. they wanted it again, the feeling of being trampled on cruelly, like they weren't a person, but a thing, an object that deserved nothing.
it excited them.
they clutched onto the merchandise tightly, resting it against their lips.
they missed you.
𝐚/𝐮: i kid u not my pc crashed when i was writing epel scene we know its you yuu get your jealous ass out of here and lemme write in peace. sorry for the short chapter i was actively fighting against my pc
yan! twisted wonderland 〖dating sim au〗x gn! reader─if you want to hide a tree, hide it in a forest: that was a saying you abided by strictly after transmigrating into twisted wonderland. to avoid the many death flags from the love interests, you decided to join them, becoming the leader of the 'prefect's fan club!'
everyone loved yuu. that word alone barely contained the sheer craziness, the scale of the affection the magicless human garnered during their short stay in NRC.
all, except for you, the leader of 'prefect's fan club'.
let's start from the beginning: you were a painfully average and plain person who tried their best to cope with the world via cheap entertainments. trashy novels, brainless games, you name it.
twisted wonderland was a sore eye, mainly because its graphics were considerably higher than the mindless, ad-bloated games you had on your phone. it was honestly a fun experience: seeing the insane worship the main character received through each chapter.
another than that, its worldbuilding wasn't that bad: the concept of 'overblotting' was well-executed. what put you off tough, was the various 'merry bad endings' you could get by the slightest slip of a mistake.
this game required thinking, something you threw away after a long, busy day. one wrong word, and the 'GAME OVER!' flashed red on the screen.
let's skip through the details of your miserable death, a fitting punishment for being on the phone while crossing the road when the green light hadn't even appeared.
so you woke up in a dorm room of, much to your dread, pomefiore’s. you had transmigrated into a background NPC, serving as one of the students fawning over yuu in some cutscenes you couldn't bother to remember.
one cool thing you found out about this body, though, was that its original owner had a fancy parasol. a majority of pomefiore students hailed from wealthy families, and it seemed you were lucky to land on the body of one such young master.
your luck stopped there when you recalled the setting of the game: one wrong move and you could be executed by the main love interests. you could try to remain low-profile, but you were a pomefiore student: that spelled attention already.
you were gripping your (surprisingly) majestic hair, thinking of a plan to help you survive, until you realized: you were meant to fall in love with yuu, just another NPC with an admiration that couldn't be compared to the utter devotion the real love interests had for them.
of course, since this was an inherently ridiculous setting, why not take it upon yourself to become the leader of the prefect's fan club?
after all, you could make a fortune out of yuu-based merchandises!
and that was how, your brainchild, a.k.a your lifeline, came to be. decorated in the signature pastel purple and wite, you actively organized meetings, prepared stuff such as glowsticks, keychains and even pictures of yuu during classes. sharing the same class with the famous magicless human had many of its perks.
occasionally, you spotted familiar figures, from the starters' duo, ace and deuce, who, at first, came to threaten you due to your intrusion of yuu's privacy, were persuaded almost immediately by a free offer of your merchandise.
"you....how did you take this picture?" ace had inquired when you gave him a sample of yuu's yawning during a history class. of course, it captured their glory perfectly because of your expensive polaroid.
"join the club~! we share our secrets there!" you hummed, spreading the stack of photos you had in your hands, much to both of their surprise.
there was a reason you were made the leader!
however, since the current timeline was still between chapter 2 and chapter 3, you got in trouble with your housewarden a lot for staying up late. after all, at this time, vil had yet to comprehend the greatness of yuu.
"you look absolutely horrendous." he commented, upon catching you sneak into your dorm after a fan meeting. you jolted, attempting pathetically to hide the stack of fan merchandise behind your back. a nervous whislte escaped your o-shaped lips as your eyes darted aside.
"sometimes, i find myself impressed by your self-destructive capability: not sleeping for 3 days straight, napping during flight classes, and breaking your own self-care routine." he added on, as though reading your crimes from a long paper scroll like a judge, and you were on a trial. when you were about to verbalize your protests, his fingers had rested against your lips.
"i do not want to hear another word from your dry lips. clean up and go to bed, now." oh, the absolute nerves! you awaited the day he would come begging to join your club. you wondered what he would purchase first? a photo of yuu, a pen, or a keychain? the options were endless in your club.
although your housewarden and many others from your dorm had yet to be charmed by yuu yet (which was a shame considering how many rich students there were; you could drain their entire pocket), other previous dorms, like heartslaybul and savanaclaw, had been utterly captivated.
which was why one of your favorite pastimes was to blackmail tease the housewarden: riddle rosehearts!
"riddle~!"
"goldfish~!"
that was the combo of double trouble that rivalled ace and deuce's annoying existence. at least with the latter, riddle had a fair chance of discipling them. you and floyd? you bet he would run away from his current spot already. when you and one of the notorious leech twins met face-to-face, coldness intruded into the air. the two of you didn't spare one another; dagger glares clashed against each other. the tension in the cafeteria was so thick that it caused other unfortunate students in the nearest vicinity to gulp. a shared laughter cut through the ice like nothing, as your hands rested onto riddle's shoulders.
"oh, what honor do i have to meet with such an elusive figure?" you gave him a half-assed smile, eyes closed in a mockingly happy expression. despite his mood swings being a danger to the NPCs, he had yet to be captured by yuu yet, so you enjoyed toying with floyd a lot.
(translated: why the fuck do i have to encounter a creep like you!?)
"seems like mx. cuttlefish is intered in goldfish too! you aren't about to eat him, are you~?"
(translated: i know you hoe is NOT genuine)
lightning pratically sparked from the prolonged eye contact, and it wasn't until riddle bravely complained about you two that you stopped. you huffed, cheeks puffed in annoyance, before leaving for your table. you couldn't take floyd down, at least not in a physical fight. the tables would turn when yuu happened; you were sure of it!
last but not least, epel femier. the first year was so amusingly adorable, and what was that? always inquiring about yuu! oh, the sweet taste of puppy love that would soon be twisted into a consuming obsession: you were delighted not to partake in any of that.
he was so short compared to your body; each greeting hug would ended up in him being smothered by your chest. the beauty didn't hide his envy of your taller and presumably stronger frame, pushing you out in petty anger. you knew this, as his story was the one more focused on during chapter 5.
"i don't understand yer obsession with that magicless human." he piped up, in that dialect of his when you scooted next to him in the cafeteria. your cheeks puffed from the anger of being utterly defeated, something he probably didn't notice due to the lack of comments.
"how could i not!" you gasped, as though offended by his words. "did you not see their marvelous obsidian eyes? the twinkles that could shame the brightest stars in the sky? their laughs radiated the warmth of the sun itself!"
as you continued the passionate lectures of your admiration for the prefect, clasped hands with eyes closed in reminiscence, you failed to notice how epel became increasingly interested in his lunch, or how a spark of annoyance flashed through his eyes so slightly. he knew, though, that even if you had noticed it, you would just chuck down to him throwing a tantrum of his seniors' eccentricity again.
you were so frustratingly oblivious.
that was how an usual day in NRC went for you: hoarding money from NPCs, sleeping during classes, getting scolded by vil, and most importantly, organizing meetings!
it was supposed to be another mundane day, as you headed towards the empty storage that crowley had allowed you to use. a stack of money was in your hands, index finger flipped through each of them to count meticulously, a satisfied cat-like smile tugged your lips.
supposed, because when you opened the door, the figure you didn't expect to encounter as of now the most, was there.
the main character, the empty vessel the players controlled: yuu.
they were sitting on a chair, eyes reading a book that you recognized, with a horrified thought, the fanfic you had written of them to prove your dedication.
it was meant to be something like 'hah, i know yuu most than you! follow my lead!', and even during your hazes, motivated by alcoholism, you wouldn't dare to fathom the fact that the protagonist would be reading that with a concerning fixation.
they tilted their head back in boredom, deep eyes lit up at the sight of you. gosh, they were beautiful, but not in the way vil was. it reminded you of those polished porcelain dolls your father used to collect, sitting obediently in their respective cupboards. those eyes, as though painted in by a deity above, scanned your figure.
"i've been dying to meet you." they rested the book on their lips, no doubt hiding their growing smile.
SOS!
𝐚/𝐮: welcome to another one of my madness. okay jokes aside this was inspired by twisted hearts and this one fanfic
yan! dating sim twisted wonderland x reader. inexplicably, you awake in the dating sim ‘twisted hearts’ as a run-of-the-mill side character. no worries, the love interests are already after yuu. you just gotta stay out of it all, right? 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐒𝐈𝐗. previous part here
“Seriously? You're actin' like I told ya to march into a dragon's den.”
♡ It’s been four days since you’ve officially relinquished the title of jobless.
The diner in front of you remains undeterred.
♡ It’s the type you’d imagine a tourist’s spot like Foothill Town would harbor, and honestly, how you even managed to land a job here is unfathomable. You can still recall the swathe of pity in the interviewer’s eyes when you told him you were an orphan, homeless, and overqualified (you have experience in washing Scarabian dishes). Manipulating situations through pity isn't beneath you. Frankly, you're surprised it keeps working. Truly, do you look that pitiful?
♡ You did get the job at Crisp n’ dips as well, but . . . you turned it down, for very obvious reasons.
♡ Anyhow, no need to dwell on that. What matters more is that you have your first, official job, and you can’t risk getting fired because the busboy (a certain hyena) can’t stop plotting with you. You don’t even want to know why the laws of this universe deemed you two a fit, working pair, and by what sheer misfortune you two work at the same diner: as if having him share a class with you wasn't enough. It reminds you of a certain assertion, the devil couldn't reach you, so he sent Ruggie Bucchi to do the job. He looks a little goofy clad in work attire, but he’s still that same kid who tries to cop a look at your answers.
“Bucchi—”
“Just slip into Azul's office, look through his contracts, find the one with Vil's name on it, and get out before anybody notices—”
“Bucchi.”
“Easy enough—”
“Bucchi!”
Snapping out of hysteria, he looks at you, saucer-eyed, ears slapping the side of his head in alarm. Heaving a sigh of great disdain, you turn to him, hoping he can see the look on your face past the mound of fur concealing it. “Go back inside, and clean the tables— whatever is it that you do, please.”
♡ Oh! He seems amused. You want to punch him. It’s already hot in the mascot costume you’re wearing. Yes— that’s right. They picked you to be a mascot, wallowing in scorching perspiration and struggling to support yourself with spasmodic breaths. Unfortunately, your costume's permanent stitched-on smile sends the opposite message— it only seems to buttress the smirk he throws your way, and by God, you want to reach in and stuff him in the suit. It’s not like you can take it off, too. You’d done that after a particularly stifling endeavor, and had someone recognize you by the name Magicam Hunchback alone.
♡ Hmm . . . you wonder if Vil ever took that post down. Obviously not, judging from the speed of verbal recognition thrown your way. Perhaps it was because of your ill-fated nerves you hadn’t asked him to— you can’t help it, can you? Not when the lilac of his pupils drink you in and have you standing on the cusps of edged needles. He’s beautiful, above you, far more competent than you’ll ever be. It’s only natural he deems your futile requests a hassle to deal with... so if people were still theorizing about you being a soft launch and your tutor being involved with you in a relationship, why wouldn’t he take it down? It’s like he wants you to suffer just because you don’t knuckle under his demands.
♡ People talking about you, it doesn’t get out of your head, never does. They definitely make him laugh. Oh, great, thank you. How did bro pull Vil? You never wanted to. They must have a GREAT personality. You’d argue with that, but let it go— after all, if there’s one thing you’ve learned from arguing and making amends with someone who compares you to an uncooked potato: is that it’s fruitless.
♡ . . . Ah, that reminds you! Speaking of doom, it reminds you of the man responsible for half your mounting problems. You need to remember to tune in for today’s study session. He’s made it clear he won’t take your escapades lightly anymore.. and with Rook always carrying a thrashing, less composed version of you over his shoulder, you’d rather not risk the humiliation.
“..Seriously?”
“Huh?”
“Yer eyebags got eyebags.”
Ruggie's voice brings you out of your self-induced conspiracy. Peeling your lids open, you turn to look at the hyena. Through the spotty lens of your mask, you can only see half of his face, but you very well know it’s steeped in curiosity. Especially when he looks at the slip in your hand— or..paw.
“Is that a doctor's prescription? You catch a disease?”
“No, it’s Vil’s handwriting.”
There’s silence
Raising his hands in surrender, he yields, with a low whistle following the interval. “Y'know what? My bad. Would've rather heard it was terminal.”
“Tell me about it.” A press of your brows has your lips curving down. No matter how you shape it, your mind keeps sinking to the dilemma at hand. Why did Vil want you in his club? “I doubt Vil would let me go unscathed if he caught me saying this, but it really is tiring having to deal with him.”
Ruggie, no matter how little credit you give him (a pittance, really) catches on to your sombre tone. It’s only natural he does. You can’t find it within yourself to fake your emotions, or put up a façade when every two seconds there’s a little kid giving you a gummy smile and planting themselves beside you for a picture. Rocking on his heels, shoving his hands into his pockets, he treads very, very carefully. You get the gist he knows what’s up, that this is the most fun he’s had all year round.
“...Y'know.” He avoids eye contact, lest you send another invisible scowl his way. “Usually when rich people start offering ya opportunities...”
There’s a moment’s pause before he deigns you a glance. A chameleon-like ability where the hues of his irises shift from to blue to gray.
“They’re investin’.”
You thump your head against a wall and startle a couple of children.
“Think about it! Nobody spends this much effort on somebody unless they're plannin’ on getting something back.” He insists, waving his hands in your face as if to stop you before you actually bash your head in the wall and die. He’d lose his job if you did. “Ya really think world-wide supermodel, hotshot Vil Schoenheit would deign a simpleton like you a glance?" He tilts his head. “People like you n’ me don’t get that luxury, and you still don’t get it through your head, do ya? You really are a goody-goody.”
♡ There’s no reason for Ruggie to do this. Really? Subtly coerce you into drowning yourself beneath waters and digging your own grave? The Ruggie Bucchi you know wouldn’t dare risk that, and you’re sure, on the assumption of yours that the Savana overblot has passed, that he’d know this better than ever.
♡ Unless . .
he’s intentionally trying to get you into trouble?
You sneak a glance at him. No matter how much of a layabout he may seem, he excels at his job, leaving tables spick and span and finishing it off with a swift assist to the waiters. When he talks, occupied, those twin canines protrude. You mustn’t forget why you want to stay away from them. They don’t keep your safety in their minds.
Twisted Hearts is a game about villains.
♡ Right! You don’t know Bucchi, really, you don’t. You know about the territorial hyena from the cringe-fest that is Twisted Hearts, but him in reality, you don’t. Does he know about Yuu and you? You wouldn’t put it past him. You don’t even know if Yuu and him are acquainted, if he’s head over heels just like the others, if he would really go that far as to intentionally lead you astray. He can smell you, can’t he? He is a beastman. Would he? One look at his smirk tells you the truth clear and fair. Who knows how to lurk in the shadows and contort their movements from afar the best, other than you, of course?
♡ You may have let Kalim get to you, you may have dampened Jamil’s suspicion, but that doesn’t make them your friends. They are not your friends. If they find out Yuu’s inner workings, they’ll make your life miserable, would they not? Because that’s what they are.
♡ Characters bound to destroy the world for their one and only. And in no universe, no matter how much Yuu deems it true, are you anyone’s muse.
“Mummy, look!” A finger juts out in your direction. “A rabbit!”
This is humiliating.
♡ Heaving another sigh of despondence, you try to peer at the crowd. Taking up all the seats are customers immersed in idle chitter-chatter and fussy children. In a way, it looks no different from your world,if you ignore the obvious dissimilarities in their comportment and physical characteristics. One customer has ears bigger than their head — what type of beastman is that? One looks like a run-of-the-mill average Joe. One has teal hair, striped with black, and the other . .
♡ Wait, what?
♡ . . Teal hair? You blink a few times to enhance what you’re seeing. You’re staring at the back of a person’s head. Into a haircut that’s all too familiar. Is that . . Jade?
♡ Yeah! There’s Yuu. Sitting opposite him. They’ve managed to find your job location, or not, perhaps they’re both here on an excursion. A very one-sided excursion where the latter is trying to ignore the eel’s prodding and probing, any sane eye can see Jade is annoying them, and he just seems so lively. In a way, a manner he never took up when he was with you, a manner which differs so far from his formality. He seems full of energy here, so entranced — you suppose you aren’t capable of overpowering Yuu in this regard. It seems as if their charm is irresistible.
♡ But then they get up. And you have this unbearable urge to get the eel alone and atleast share a word or two with him. Yuu pays, clearly, and they’re leaving, another dot in the mass of a thousand. Surely, this isn’t what he’s been doing all this time? Frolicking around with Yuu? Your tormentor? How original.
Before you know it, a rabbit paw catches his sleeve. It's.. well, a bit worn out. Not something you’d expect Jade to wear, but his name comes out nonetheless.
“.. Jade?”
When he turns—
you realize that is not Jade.
♡ Floyd Leech?!
♡ How doomed are you?! How did you even let it slip past you that Jade has his other half? You’re extremely lucky you’re still clad in your little rabbit costume, because you don't think you can ever stand the notion of him copping a look at your face and recognizing you on campus. You go rigid entirely, words on the precipice of your tongue and perishing right after as his eyes, half-lidded and bored, languidly rove over your probably ridiculous button eyes. Extricating your hand just as it latched on, you stand in place.
♡ . . . You also make sure to give him a little wave. Just in case he takes your silence into suspicious account.
“Huh?” The nasally voice is accompanied with the slow stretch of a pointy smile. “And who’re you—”
“Floyd!”
♡ Whatever attention he had on you gets wiped off in a millisecond, and he slinks back towards Yuu almost obediently. You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Opps are everywhere.
♡Oh, shoot! You totally forgot today was the day of the most dreaded examination: midterms.
♡ And that’s not an atypical thing, really. You’ve never focused on those, that’s how you get your grades to amount to a forgettable pittance, but today is especially dreadful because in the midst of ‘fixing up' your bedhead, Vil had spent the better part of twenty minutes reminding you he expected nothing short of excellence. You can understand his expectations, after all, he'd spent months drilling the material into your skull, whether you welcomed it or not.So with a smile that stretched a little too tightly over your lips, you assured him you would. And you’re sure if this world were any more unbelievable, you’d have a big, fat paper slapped on your back with the words liar.
♡ Specifically because you’re stuck on the first question. You kept skimming through the sheet trying to find a question you’d at least know about, before realizing you’d reached the end of the paper — and you can just imagine that scowl on his face. You can remember him droning on about this same problem, but your memory’s waterlogged, and no amount of scourging can pluck that itch free. . What an exemplary upperclassman you are!
♡ It’s also not just because of Vil, it’s also because this is the start of book three, and if your notion goes according to plan, then Ace, Deuce, and Grim will all grow little sea mementos on their head—with Yuu left to save their friends from their own stupidity. It’s quite laughable, really. That part keeps distracting you.
“A bold answer.”
♡ Professor Trein has made ten rounds to your table, and has stood above you for the better half of it as you both stare at a blank page. Whenever you write out the answer, it elicits a disapproving hum, and you’re forced to wipe it out. In the end, you just make do with a solid guess, and turn your paper in, chewing down your uncertainty and following the tide of students as they make their exit.
♡ The rest of the day resumes.
♡ After a tiring study session with Vil, you attempt to trudge back to your dorm. Your mind’s hazy, misty, and through the dense, foggy plumage shrouding Night Raven, you struggle to keep up. It doesn’t help your brain is, much to your resistance, actively trying to memorize thirteen pages of alchemy at the same time, so when you see more than three figures up ahead — or atleast the shape of them — you uncharacteristically pay them no heed. Big mistake.
♡ Oh, shit! Your suspicions that someone had noticed Yuu's sudden interest in you are confirmed sooner than expected. Namely, when a handful of Savanaclaw students corner you on Main Street and decide a confrontation is a perfectly respectable substitute for magic. You’re no stranger to conflict, but you’re not a connoisseur of handling them too, per se — so imagine your surprise when you’re boxed in by the most ripped beastmen known to man. They give Savanaclaw its name, it seems, and promptly remind you to never engage with the dorm again. Because . . . it doesn’t make any sense. You haven’t done anything wrong, what reason do they even have to resort to violence?
♡ Unless . . someone called them in? Ruggie doesn’t strike you the type to do that, neither does Leona (or does he? He was never your favorite) so perhaps you’re just haplessly grasping at straws and hoping your little theories land. Either way, the group doesn’t give you any room to argue. Grabbing your collar, reeling you in by the shoulders, whatnot. The typical bunch of Savanaclaw knuckleheads, really, so that accomplishes one more goal of yours: physical pain. You don’t know which part of your body hurts, it's everywhere.
“We’ve heard of ya” One of them snickers. It’s a hideous sound, you think, one that makes you stare past them amid the aridity of your throat.
“.. You have?”
“You deaf or somethin’? That’s what he just said.”
♡ Quick! Think of something! Damn you, Vil. If he hadn’t plagued your mind with textbook material, perhaps you’d conjure one of the typical tricks you have up your sleeve. It then occurs to you, you don’t even have any experience in the fighting department. How are you even supposed to defend yourself? You watch as they quite literally empty the contents of your bag, bric-a-brac and stationery descending on the ground in cacophonous waves. It’s clear no one is around the area this time, all except—
“Hey, can you guys please move aside?”
♡ Deuce Spade! And . . . who’s that?
Someone’s behind him, but your focus remains on him. “I need to get to Mr. Sam’s shop. You’re blocking the way.”
“Mr.Sam’s shop?” A rowdy beastman chuckles. “Why?”
“.. I need to get some parchment.” Deuce’s eyes narrow, spade crinkling and belying his skepticism beneath. “I’m going to send a letter home.”
♡ Except . . . he seems wary of you. Not just you, all of you. Does he even know you’re the one that’s being wronged here? There’s someone behind him, someone you’ve never seen before, but something about them rings a bell of recognition within you.
♡ The contours of their face, the way they stand tight-lipped, they have a good couple of inches over Deuce — their hair is quite messy, jutting out in sleep-mussed strands as if they rolled out of bed, yet giving the impression it’s styled like that on purpose, curling around their face. Their face is steeped in staid indifference, they don’t spare a single glance towards the delinquents, yet amid their unsolicited questions, it treks towards you.
♡ Who is that? Your heart squeezes in on itself. Your lip’s worn between your teeth as you feel them comb through your concealed stature, languidly traversing each and every part of your figure. It makes you feel uncomfortable, it makes your privacy feel impinged upon and paraded for their perusal. . .it feels as if the mere sight of you is being drunk in. Who is that? They look familiar, overly familiar, too familiar.
♡ That’s Yuu?
Your eyes are nailed open, pinned wide by incredulity. You don’t know why, but your heart bursts in little staccatos. There’s a little, stray strand at the side of their head, and dare you say, it’s styled exactly like the Leech twins.
♡ No way. No way! They actually did it. They changed themselves because you poured your heart out at some blasted library! But . . what about their height? Even their face seems different. Makeup? Heels? Now they’re accompanying Deuce, staring at you, because no matter how much you could’ve told them you like someone who couldn’t give a single care in the world about you, they can’t help themselves. It’s like they need to stare at you. Just what the hell is wrong with them? Do they really think you’ll topple over by their feet just because they did a little something new with their face or hair?
“Well, look what the prefect dragged in.” The Savanaclaw knucklehead jeers. “Deuce? Ain’t you supposed to be runnin’ your ass off at the track club and sucking up to your professors? Piss off, and take your little wuss with ya.”
Deuce looks on the cusp of letting his face devolve into pure fury. You can’t help but think it’s not that serious, but upon watching the tremor of his lips, you reconsider. The prefect and he have been pals since the beginning, and they must’ve fought tooth and nail beside each other. It’s only natural they have that kind of relationship, palpable in the way he pushes them behind him. Oh, wow. Shielding them with his body? Ground-breaking.
“Yuu, get behind me.. I’m only asking you this once, alright?” His brows press as he takes his attention to the group. You can’t help but feel as if he doesn’t remember you. “Step aside. We’re not here to pick a fight, so please move out of the way.”
Yuu obliges, shuffling, though you’d argue that’s because they’re too busy staring at you, gauging your face for a reaction. A reaction on the change. A reaction on anything.
The Savanaclaw bastard mulls it over. “Hm.” Then he cranes his neck head-on. “Nah. Can’t say the same for us.”
♡ That’s all it takes for a punch.
♡ The sound is loud on skin. You don’t even know who threw it, but somewhere amid the jabs, punches are flying. Punches are flying in every wayward direction. Punches are flying . . . at you? The last thing you see is a Spade, and then your entire vision gets tilted, harshly. You’re spinning, why are you spinning?
♡ You realize a second too late when the air is knocked out of you. Did you just get punched by Deuce Spade?!
♡ A solid right hook to your rib and you fall to the ground in blinding pain, it’s like he straight up tore something out of you. A half-choked scream evades and amid the tussling bodies, you see Yuu staring at you. They make no move to rush to you— but the pain is unbearable, and you clench the space over your ribs. Pain shoots up in your cheek when someone tumbles over you, dust kicks up everywhere.
It's clear everyone’s getting their ass handed to them.
You lay sprawled on the ground alongside some ugly Savanaclaw bastard. Grunts follow. Glaring at him, you seethe. “This is all your fault.”
“... Sorry, man.”
And with that, stars burst in your vision.
♡ You wake up in the infirmary.
♡ It takes you a while to come to.
♡ Your vision is, at first, incredibly spotty, and for the dots to ebb away, requires you to keep on blinking. Blinking requires strain, and strain requires more pain which you don’t deign to verbalize. There’s no question that you were brought here by someone, a student, even. No lights have been turned on, you’re left in the quiet chalice of moonlight streaming in from windows and the growing pain on the plush of your cheek -- it’s past curfew, and no one is in the office, not even the Savanaclaw mutts. Shuffling, you realize a blanket’s draped over your shoulders, and a poorly-attached.. bandage on your skin which flutters away.
♡ . . What a bummer! You got your ribcage and cheek beat in? You should’ve known to jump out of the way, especially since you know more about Deuce than anyone in the room! You must’ve really underestimated his relationship with Yuu. Because Book Three is coming around, it should be even stronger than before, considering they’ve dealt with two overblots. Strangely though, Yuu in Twisted Hearts was never quiet when he’d been forced to take to his fists. In fact — the dialogue options all centred around de-escalating the situation.
♡ . . Seems like you really messed with their head after the library incident. Thought it should offer you some comfort, it has icy shards of reluctance roving over your spine. If the time might come where you’ll be coerced into interacting with Adeuce again.. then you’d have to book it immediately. Yuu’s made it clear they’ll stop at nothing, especially since they’ve changed their appearance.
“You’re awake.”
♡ ..
♡ ..What?
♡ Ack! What the heck?!
♡ You flinch, blinking once more, and look around the room for the source of the voice.
♡ There's an apparition at the foot of the bed. No, there’s a person standing there, a person you’ve never met before, you can tell. The pitch of their voice, the dialogue.. it’s all unfamiliar and..
It’s Yuu.
♡ The room glistens once.
Or.. it looks like Yuu.
It looks like Yuu, but with the way they’re dressed and carrying themselves, they look like J̸A̸D̸E̸. They don’t look like themselves, and how long had they been standing there, watching you mull everything over on your tongue? Back at Main Street, you’d skimmed over their new looks, but now, having given the luxury of time, you’re taking it all in and realize that they’re trying to impersonate him. The man, who you, in the heat of the moment, had called best friend.
Your heart quickens. How did you not notice it before?
Beams of silvered incandescence fall in stripes upon their face, and you realize their eyes have been morphed into a different shape, their lips a different colour, their height now towering over you... What? How’s that even possible? How come no one noticed it at Main Street? Had they always looked like that? No— that’s not right. There is something completely wrong and yet has eluded everyone. Even the Savanaclaw brutes recognized them as the prefect, where you, someone who’s been flanked by said prefect, erred in the recognition at first.
“.. Yuu?”
J̸A̸D̸E̸, they look like. J̸A̸D̸E̸, the manner they carry themselves. They drink in the battered and bruised visage you’re clad in, and with that ̷J̷̷A̷̷D̷̷E̷’̷S̷ ̷G̷̷R̷̷I̷̷N̷ playing on the softer curve of their lips, their J̸A̸D̸E̸’S̸ H̸E̸A̸D̸ lolls towards you. Y꙰U꙰U꙰ J꙰A꙰D꙰E꙰ Y꙰UJ꙰J꙰A꙰D꙰E꙰
“Forgive me.” Upon receiving a pointed brow from you, h҉e҉ chuckles. “I was under the impression that reunions between companions of a certain familiarity were typically accompanied by some gesture of goodwill. A hug, if I recall correctly.”
They’re speaking like him. A roulette of personalities before it clicks into one concrete thing. You’re not even looking at their face anymore, your hands are wound around the softer bedsheet and your lips are restless welts between your teeth. What do you even do in this situation? Yuu, somehow, against all odds, has boxed you in an infirmary. It terrifies you, but, audaciously, you chew down the quiver of your face and school it into a calmer one.
“Yuu.”
You can’t see their eyes, but you know they widen around your utterance of their name. Quickly, before you can even process it, they cover the distance between you too. It has you jerking back against the wall, biting back a hiss at the strong contract. —They’re in front of you. They’re looking at you. What have you even done to deserve this?
“Yes?” Your eyes hesitantly climb upward.
“.. Can you leave?”
They look like you’ve just said something befuddling. Quirking a brow and adorned in that same expression as you, they question. “.. Why? You’re hurt, aren’t you? It’d be unwise of me to leave you to your own devices.” Their eyes glister. They’re yellow now. A color oh-so familiar. “Oh, speaking of you being hurt, I apologize on behalf of Deuce. He really..”
Your hands. Their hands. They meld them together, fingers slotted against each other. Yours are warm, but theirs are denuded of any temperature, even as they press into yours like an ill-fitting locket. There’s a pit amassing in your stomach, gnawing at you, a massive blackhole of dread. It's everywhere, coagulating in the confines of your throat, even your ears and rigid body. You won't look them in the eyes, even as they give your hands a squeeze of confirmation, as if to ascertain you’re actually there.
“.. He really angered me, you see.” Nails delve into the plush of your skin, before releasing it in a portrait of half-moons. “Oh, but enough of him. May I talk to you?”
—As if you’re real.
Are you real? You can still hear their voice in the back of your mind.
♡ No, no, no. You want to scream at them, but you’re afraid it’ll only escalate the situation.
“.. Okay.” You tread carefully. “We’ll talk. We'll talk tomorrow, okay? I’ll talk to you all you want—”
“—Just leave. I’m hurt.”
♡ It’s like they can't bear the thought of not listening to you.
♡ Nodding, you watch them exit the room, the door closing. And just like that, you hide beneath the covers, not wanting to lament on what the fuck just happened! Squeezing your eyes shut, you don’t breathe until you're certain their footsteps have diminished into nothingness.
“Spud!”
You jerk awake.
♡ Dampness amasses upon your waterline before slivers of it stream down and onto your open palm. You’re sat upright, and the face of your tutor, Vil Schoenheit, should not offer you so much relief, but the bottled up chrysalis of your heart, the thumping staccatos of your pulse, all join to let out the happiest sigh you’ve ever breathed. You’re in the nurse’s office, you have not moved places, but Yuu is not here anymore. They’ve left.
“Vil!”
♡ You chew the word back down when you see the surprise on his face.
♡ You don’t know if it is because you’ve never once willingly uttered his name so.. joyfully, or because he’s wondering why, on the name of the Sevens, are you here. Judging from the way he’s in his Dorm Uniform, you must have taken him out of Pomefiore for this occasion, but beneath the gloam, he really does look like a cherub, an angel, more so because his face is tenfold embellished, softened and glamorous — not a day goes by where he doesn’t look gorgeous. Your guardian angel, you’d describe him as, if you were a completely different breed of yourself, and if the circumstances were different, and if..well, you get the gist.
“..”
For the briefest of moments, more surprise fractures his impeccable composure. It vanishes just as quickly.
"Well." He smooths a nonexistent crease from the sleeve of his uniform.His lilac eyes sweep over your face with unsettling precision. "That is certainly the most enthusiastic greeting I've ever received from you....Should I assume you've suffered another concussion?"
You hastily scrub at your face and wince. The valleys of your palm glisten, giving you away. “..No.”
"You've been crying." At your prolonged silence, he shakes his head. “You have no need to verify it, I have eyes."
He doesn’t prod for more. Instead, he crosses the room with measured steps until he stands beside the infirmary bed, crossing his arms.
"The physician informed me you were rendered unconscious after an altercation. Really? I leave you unattended for one afternoon and somehow you manage to involve yourself in physical violence."
“...It wasn't on purpose.”
“I would certainly hope not.” His thumb lightly catches your chin before you can recoil. He angles your face toward the light. “...Though judging by the state of your cheek, I can see bruising, and here I was under the impression you merely enjoyed collecting eye bags."
Letting you extricate yourself from his nitid hold, he eyes you, brows knitting close at your reluctance. “Did the nightmare concern your altercation?”
.. Was it a nightmare?
“..No.”
“Someone else, then.”
“...Yeah.”
He studies you long enough that you begin wondering if there's something written across your forehead.
“Who?”
“I dunno.”
He turns away, sighing.
“I've discovered that people disclose the truth more readily when they cease believing they're being interrogated.” He glances back over one shoulder. “So I will ask you again another day.”
“Did you call me spud to wake me up?”
The question is airy, quick but elicits a soft sigh from him, stopping him in his tracks. When he whirls around, heels clacking against the tiles, there's a curvature to his lips, but not of pride. As if almost conveying he’s got you figured out, that you aren’t as elusive as you’d deem yourself. The sort of expression worn by someone who's finally finished assembling the last piece of a puzzle.
“So that is what's troubling you.” You stiffen, and he hums, folding his arms. “I suppose I can indulge your curiosity. After all, it would have been rather inconvenient to recommend you for Film Research while referring to you as 'that spud from Scarabia.”
Your stomach drops.
“Naturally, I sought out your student record.”
♡ Horror dawns upon you. It's then you realize of course there should be a school record of the person's body you’ve been transmigrated into.
“Only to discover...” His smile thins. “...that you seemingly don't have one.”
♡ . .
“Quite an impressive feat, really. Every student admitted to Night Raven College leaves behind paperwork. Enrollment records. Academic reports. Disciplinary files, in some unfortunate cases.” His gaze settles on you. “You, however, appeared to have vanished from the school's archives altogether. It was terribly inefficient.”
He brushes an invisible speck of dust from his sleeve.
“Fortunately, Housewarden Al-Asim proved considerably more cooperative. I simply requested whatever documentation Scarabia had on you.” His eyes soften into something almost miserable. “..As you can imagine, my efforts did not bear fruit.”
♡ You don’t answer. Kalim knows your name. That day, at the infirmary, you'd given him it willingly, but it surprises you that he didn’t give it away. Did he even remember it? He has more than thirty siblings and he knows all of them by name, allegedly. It should be habit by now.. (Still, amid the sheer terror that Vil just implied he’s going to take you out of Mountain Lovers and place you into Film Research instead, you feel warmth in your heart).
Presently, you school your expression, letting your gaze trek upward into the purple inferno that’s Vil. So, Ruggie wasn’t lying when he said Vil had been to Octavinelle. He must’ve struck a deal with Azul, Azul must’ve gotten Jade to comply, and Jade must’ve agreed. “I don’t want to join your club, Vil. I respect you as my tutor—”
“Do you? That’s certainly shocking.”
“But I can’t accept this.”
"No," You don’t know what you were expecting, but the degree of his calm, it infuriates you no more than it riddles you with confusion “You won't accept it. There's a difference, and a rather important one.”
He covers the distance between you and purple inundates your vision, the purple of his dress, plaguing the ground. Though you’re loathe to admit it, his composure is far more formidable than outright anger, and subconsciously, you sink deeper into the blanket fortress you’ve built around yourself. Cool antiseptic against the interior of your skin, it grounds you until your eyes are inevitably forced to dwell into the reign of his eyes.
"Acceptance, if you’d give it some thought, would mean consideration followed by a conclusion. You, however, as I’ve said before, have made a habit of refusing opportunities before you've even afforded them a glance.”
“Because they're opportunities I don't want.” You curl, coil, and do everything to shield your face from his. Detestable, you can tell it irks him so, so much. “I don’t want them. I don’t want to be put into the spotlight, I don’t want to be seen, I don’t want any of this!”
It shames you. Puts you to shame more and more and more. Sentences you to a perpetual embarrassment, because here you are reduced to tearful, loud hysteria, and Vil has not once raised his voice at you. He peers at you the same, a petulant toddler in his eyes. Why? Why can he never see you as something more than that?
“Are they?”
“—Yes!”
“Or are they merely opportunities that require you to become something more?” A long nail scrapes the cloth and suddenly, the blanket is taken away from you. You gasp involuntarily, crisp air meets the bare of your skin and your mouth falls shut, given the luxury of seeing his face clearly. You don’t mull it over too long for his liking, and he scowls. Deep and unforgiving. “Tell me, have you once attended Film Research?”
“No.”
“Have you spoken to any of its members?”
“..No.”
“Then by what merit have you deemed it unsuitable?”
“...Because...”
It is a strange, trance-like, curse-like bubble you’re in. Words seep from your mouth and into the fracture of the air much too fast, for a moment you’re inclined to believe he’s used his signature spell on you. Has he? Can he even do that? You hate him.
“...Because Mountain Lovers leaves me alone. I want peace. I don’t want people looking at me.”
Vil lets out a slow, almost imperceptible breath.
“There it is. You've convinced yourself you don't deserve them to. You are under the absurd impression that remaining invisible somehow absolves you of responsibility." His tone remains maddeningly even. "If no one knows your name, they cannot burden you. If no one notices your work, they cannot expect more of you. If no one grows attached, they cannot disappoint you." He tilts his head. “...It's a remarkably comfortable philosophy.”
His eyes narrow just slightly.
“It is also cowardice, and if there is anything I despise more than sloth, it is precisely—”
Lilac.
“Cowardice.”
Even through the crescendo of his stare, you feel as though you can’t let him leave just yet.
“Wait, Vil!” He stops, and you lower your head in shame.
“.. Can you at least walk me back? To Scarabia?”
♡ You are a coward!
♡ A smarting, throbbing pain pulses throughout your body, you hiss and seethe and sputter into Scarabia’s lounge, where the night sky, buttressed by noctilucent stars on liquefied ink, bubbles and takes you into its breezy arms. You arrive quite late, at a time where everyone has surely returned to their rooms and tuned in for the night, but this is not your first rodeo and definitely not your first time breaking curfew. You’re more so grappling with the fact that Deuce Spade, the seemingly, oh-so loyal companion, has thrown a solid right hook to your rib and now you’re most likely crippled. . . and that Vil has, without mercy, sentenced you to a lifetime of Film Research.
♡ You hiss again. You’d very well seen dialogues regarding how others would describe his strength as unexpected, but you didn’t really expect you to be the example.
♡ You'd been so convinced the stolen items had something to do with Jade, or Y҉I҉U҉U҉—or perhaps the usual mound of unrequited love. But now, you’re re-considering where you really stand. Had it been done out of malice? The characters have shown they've no qualm with hurting you, and clearly, this implies they’d stoop to more . . . . violent methods, if needed. Crisp air only burns the welts on your skin, you’re glad no one’s here to see you reduced to such a state.
♡ Except the viper! Isn’t that just so peachy?
♡ He knuckles at his lids three times before letting his face pucker into a ball of confusion and drawn brows. Donning his sleepwear, his hair meanders loose, and his skin’s rid of gold, the same as you’d seen on him the night before. Stumbling, toppling over your own tongue in a drawl, you don’t realize the burn of air is whisked away with the sensation of someone tugging at your uniform and setting you down on the ottoman.
“Do I even bother?” He questions. Your head is low, dipped. A swab of cotton pounces at your face, a pitter-patter following the motion of his fingers. Do I even bother asking you what happened, because you and I both know you never speak the truth? And how did you even get Schoenheit to walk you to Scarabia? With a finger pressed along your ribs, he prods. “Tell me when.”
♡ Gah! Everything is happening so fast, you can’t even process it. How can you when the one guy who’s so steeped in loathing is staring back at you, after you’ve just had a mental acceptance regarding their partiality to violence?
“When.”
“I haven’t even touched the bruise yet.”
Luckily for him, you’re pretty dazed after the encounter.
“Wheehee... My bad.” A puddle of emotions twist your face into a frown as you lament. “Do you know they didn’t even use spells? It was a bare-knuckled fight!”
“Shh. Follow my finger.”
“You’re holding up two.”
“Only one.” Lolling his head skyward, his lips press down into a thin line of.. irritation. Even when you’re crumpled, he eyes you warily. There is always something in those eyes of his, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have taken it lightly. But you don’t, because the way he peers down at you, it’s almost literal. You beneath him, the natural order. “.. I thought you avoided attention, so why provoke Savanaclaw?”
You have a strong aversion to small talk, especially when Jamil is on the receiving end. “Really generous to assume they need a reason for beating me up.”
“Hm. I suppose that’s true,” Without any need to continue conversation, he still keeps on probing for more. It’s quite laughable, isn’t it? He never struck you as the type to willingly engage in chatter with you, even now, his face is strained. How fun, knowing you’ve inconvenienced him. “Still, I would’ve thought you the type to at least defend yourself.”
You perch your cheek on your hand. “You thought wrong.”
“Clearly,” Pausing against your temple, the cotton is cool, even while littered with grime. “Why?”
“Why you thought wrong? Well, clearly, it’s a skill iss—”
“Why? You've had opportunities. If people insist on handing you those, why keep on refusing them? Even your own Housewarden likes you.”
You grimace. “I wouldn't phrase it like that.”
“You've earned Leech's attention.”
“I'd rather give it back.”
“Vil Schoenheit has practically dragged you into his orbit. He accompanied you just now to your dorm, didn’t he?”
Now, there’s an ugly bruise on your face and it’s not one he can touch and see, he can feel. Your lips pull into an elegiac little frown, and your eyes glaze over in mourning.
“I'd also, definitely rather give that back.”
His fingers still.
“...Why? Most students spend years trying to be noticed, and you spend every waking moment making sure no one remembers you.”
♡ Not this conversation! Looks like you’re at a bit of a standstill, but that entertains the thought: looks who’s talking. Pot, meet kettle, isn’t that what he does, in a sense, in a far more different sense? You don’t know how to reply to that, because Jamil is very clearly, very not passively, explaining the obvious. Even the way he looks at you now is complicated, denuded of emotion that can be gauged. You merely purse your lips in lieu of a response, and avoid his gaze, like you’ve always done.
“Can we please talk about something else?”
There’s a pressure on your palm. An accidental, harsh pull, and with a sigh, he tells you; “I can never understand you. Oh, well, it’s done.”
You blearily blink up at him. “It’s done?”
“The bandaging.”
He was bandaging you up this entire time? Oh, so that’s why he was so atypically immersed in your conversation.
Leaning back and scourging the contents of his work, which in actuality is just a linen strip of white shrouding your palms and the bare of your arm, he hums. It’s a non-committal, little thing that’s whisked away beneath the empyrean domain, blues and purplish-black lairs of twilight, cast back into the likeness of his eyes. He’s staring at you again. Waiting for, well, something. Something you’re clearly not willing to give.
“Thank you.” Clearing your throat, its dryness is gone. In the heat of Scarabia, only you feel its cold fangs nip at your skin. When you retract your gaze, you realize, shit. Had you been looking at him? “.. Aren’t you going to leave?”
He raises a brow.
“It may have slipped your mind that I’m your Vice Housewarden.” His arms are now folded. “In any case, you should be the one heading to bed.”
♡ Say less. You really don’t want this unsolicited thing to escalate, so you verbalize your agreement with a hum, and attempt to leave him be. The keyword here is attempt— and the trigger word here is Yuu.
“After all, I imagine Yuu must be waiting for you tomorrow.”
A chill goes up your spine.
♡ You fall back down. Why? Because a tremor shot up your legs and now you’re that same crumpled mess you were in the library.
♡ Ugh! Great! Another Yuu-thing to worry about. You really wish they stopped getting on your case. The incident at the infirmary still hasn’t left your mind.. Y꙰U꙰U꙰’S꙰ face staring you down. Why’s Jamil looking at you like that? With a shadow cast over his usually staid face? It unsettles you no more than it terrifies you, how have you messed up this bad? Quick, think of something! It’s time you set the record straight once and for all.
“You don’t have to worry,” hands morphed into fists in your lap, you think he feels you avoiding his gaze. “I know.. your— ahem, affections lie with Yuu. I would never personally get in your way, Vice Housewarden.” Heaving a shuddering breath, you stand up. “I’ve too much respect for you in that regard.”
♡ Uh. . why’s he looking at you like that? Brows raised, lips on the verge of shooting up into an amused smirk.
“Hm? Affections? Where did that come from? I don’t recall bringing that up.”
♡ .. . . For your next trick you’ll need a gun and a shovel to dig your grave. Really?
“—It's obvious.” You amend. “The way you look at them.”
“When did you see me looking at them?”
Uhh.. “When didn’t I see you looking at them?”
“There’s no point in puerile assumptions, really.” There it is again. That clipped, clear tone. Lids rolling over charcoal finality, he folds his arms again, and once more, his hair curtains his face in a blanket of shadows. “I’m a boring guy to be around. One who doesn’t know his way around the latest trends or media. What could Yuu possibly gain from sparing me time? They’re an odd one, no more than you.”
♡ Jack of all trades, master of none!
♡ He’s trying to dissuade you from it, the reality of what he feels, and if you were any less of a connoisseur at combing through facial expressions (which really is just obtained foresight from Twisted Hearts), you’d have believed him. But you don’t, not even for a second — in a sense, you believe he thinks he’s gotten you off his trail, that he’s outsmarted you. You don’t want to pester him for more, try to steer his belief, or attempt to relate to him. Truth is, you always see that smile of his whenever the prefect is mentioned, that tug on his hood, and the glint in his eyes. He lives up to his name. A viper, camouflaged in plain sight.
♡ He must mistake you for a dumb one, or maybe he doesn’t. You think he doesn’t, not at all — perhaps he’s waiting for you to make that one mistake and sink in the hole you’ve been digging for yourself.
”Come on,” Your voice nags his attention. “..Boring guy? You've been trying really hard not to laugh all this time— especially when you were patching me up.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his head lists gently towards the side.
“I looked awful, I know. You can admit it.” Pitter-patter, there goes your footfall, away from Jamil as you angle your body towards the one place you can find rest. You can’t see his face, but you don’t think of anything else other than his signature composure. That’s bad. “It’s way better to tell me you think I’m miserable up-front than going behind my back and keeping it to yourself.”
That’s bad. It’s bad. Jamil is willingly making conversation with you. This is bad. You need to set him towards a different path.
♡ Reaching your room, you catch someone peeking at you through a half-open crack in the door, Scarabia Student B! Nosy, curious, wondering why you and his Vice Housewarden were in that lounge. Without greeting him, you slam your door shut.
♡ Finally! The end of a tiring day.
♡ Unfortunately, rest does not easy.
♡ In the murkiness of your room, lit only by the pearly eye outside, you comb through the space. It’s barren, of course — your shelves, though, are lined with . . . accessories.
♡ One of the most shiny things you own, is of course, a bracelet! Gifted to you by none other than Kalim. Your journal is by its side. There’s also a little mushroom encased in glass you’d discovered on your bygone hikes with Jade. You’d never noticed that before. . . it only now reminds you just how many of your little trinkets you’ve left back in the Mountain Lovers club, they must be catching dust by now. Should you drop a visit tomorrow to pick them up? You don’t know how you’ll handle seeing him.
♡ Climbing out of bed, you pick it up! There’s a little slip of paper plastered on the pane: Amanita verna (Destroying angels).
♡ It seems familiar. A swathe of white is all it is, steeped in the colour from head to toe.. You remember it! That’s the same mushroom you’d encountered on your first hike, the same one you told him not to eat. It’s almost strange how he’s kept it all this time — and really, in glass? What if its toxins are airborne? When did he even give this to you?
♡ Shuffling back to bed, you pull the covers up to your chin, squeezing your eyes shut. Oh, well, a new day awaits you.
♡ Wake up! Sometimes you get reminded why Kalim is unfit to be a Housewarden. Under the pretense of something important, he’d woken you up and led you to Scarabia’s kitchen. You’d, at first, thought he just called you for breakfast, but one glance at the time gave the numbers 4 : 50 AM away. Under no circumstances, in any universe, would you be willing to wake up at dawn’s peak, except this one. There are few things in this world worth waking before sunrise for. An emergency. A natural disaster. Perhaps the Second Coming.
♡ Turns out, he’s trying to arrange a party to commemorate the end of midterms, but Jamil’s chagrin is hindering his plans. A dorm-wide party to ‘boost everyone's spirits?’ it makes sense why Jamil has vetoed the idea outright.You can’t understand why this party would be a hit, considering that it takes place a day before midterm results would mean everyone is too preoccupied with stress or fatigue to ruminate on it, but oh, well, you’re far past arguing with your Housewarden. If the goal is ensuring everyone fails together, it’ll certainly work.
♡ You have no desire to help him out, because for one, you’re fatigued beyond measure, going against Jamil would warrant only doom — and finally, you don't trust him in the kitchen. There’s a reason why Jamil’s restricted his access to fire and anything flammable. (Though, even if it were to occur, can’t he use his unique magic?)
♡ All in all, you’re a bit surprised to see Kalim’s eagerness, so much so he’s completely overlooked what Jamil would think of him. The latter wouldn’t cook, in spite of his demands, so the boy’s brought it upon himself to do the task instead, only, for some reason, he needs your help, not the help of hundreds of other Scarabian students that would befit the skill. This has all the makings of a disaster.
“I wanna throw everybody a surprise party after classes!” He throws his hands up, relenting. The light emanating from his face alone makes yours crimp. “I think it’ll make everyone less nervous before the midterm results are announced. So? What do you think?”
“The truth or a lie?” At the persistence of his smile, you mutter. “I think it'll make everyone fail midterms, Housewarden.”
“Really? Then we’ll just have it after.” He seems surprised. Was he expecting you to agree with him? If he really insists on your companionship, then it’s only natural you come out of your shell and tell him the bare-faced truth. Though the tinge of it makes you feel the tiniest bit woozy. “Everyone in Scarabia’s studying all the time, they deserve something fun, don’t they?”
“.. Yeah.” Air whistles through your teeth as you set your eyes straight on the cutlery. “They do. I think that’s very considerate of you, Housewarden.” And that, in all honesty, is not a lie.
♡ He begins rummaging through cupboards with alarming enthusiasm! Bowls, plates, three ladles, a whisk. Somehow, a watermelon, and a flour bag half his size. He turns to you and asks you what you both should make, and you relinquish the decision to him. You help him out with whatever he’s making with the watered-down dough — slicing melons into bits and focusing way too much on avoiding the knife’s end, and whenever he asks for something, you put yourself to the task and provide.
♡ It’s only natural, though, that his need for conversation overwhelms him.
”Hey,” he smiles at you. “Now that you mention it, you never brought Jade over to Scarabia!”
You never mentioned it, but okay. The question makes you pause.. Jade. The real Jade, not the one you thought you saw. Crimson, fruity rivulets skim over the ridges and valleys of your palm as you pretend to ruminate it over, but you end up conceding the real answer to him regardless.
“I don’t think we’re friends anymore.”
♡ That makes him pause!
♡ He seems shocked, truly. Eyes saucer-wide and lips parted, but then again, you expected it to be subsumed beneath the weight of his optimism. Even when he has no idea why Jade’s left you alone, he still makes an effort to alleviate your mood. After all, that’s the impression you left for him to feast on, that you were lonely, on the verge of dying and in dire need of help. For once, the kitchen falls quiet save for the gentle simmer of something forgotten on the stove.
“..Really?”
“Really.”
Kalim blinks once. “..Did you two have a fight?”
“Not exactly.”
“Then what happened?”
“ ..Nothing.” Your head lolls over your shoulder. Tongue curling over soundless words, words you’re not even sure why you’re deigning him the brunt of, coalesce. “Nothing needs to have happened, Kalim. Sometimes people just stop talking, and that’s a part of life. They don’t need to have disagreements.”
He’s frowning at you, you can tell from your periphery, a bona fide frown that’s not at all the moue he wears when Jamil refuses to indulge one of his whims. A genuine one whose likeness is casted back into the nitid curve of your knife, as you twirl it around and around. "I make it pretty easy."
"How?"
“I avoid them. Hide. Run away. Occasionally pretend not to hear them. Sometimes I literally climb out windows.” A tiny smile tugs at your lips. “I'm kind of difficult to be friends with.”
♡ Kalim doesn't smile back. Instead, he sets the mixing bowl down with a dull clink!
“I don't think that's true! You just listed a bunch of things you do.”
Something warm engulfs your hand. Your hands. His hands. He melds them together, fingers slotted against each other. Yours are warm, but his are even warmer as they press into yours like an ill-fitting locket — but it’s not at all like Yuu’s grip. It's gentler, it’s genuine, and it’s kind. You won't look him in the eyes, even as he gives your hands a squeeze of reassurance. “Not who you are. You're nice. You always help me when I ask. You help clean. You always thank the ghosts after they serve you lunch. You're just scared people won’t like you— and tell you what—”
He’s beaming at you now. “Sometimes Jamil ignores me for days. Sometimes he tells me I'm impossible, but we always end up talking the next day! So you..” A thumb juts out from your interlinked... pinkies? Had he made a subconscious promise? “Should talk to Jade.”
♡ You stare at him. . Yours and Jamil’s situation is very different, and the dynamic these two share bears no similarity to Jade and yours. If anything, you have no obligation to make amends with the eel, but still, you make do with a shuddering nod.
“See? You’re smiling!”
“I’m not.”
♡ The new day is horrendous because you find yourself back at the Mountain Lovers club, against all odds.
♡ Right before sending you off, Kalim gave you a small task. He wanted you to send out the invitation cards to multiple students, seeing as you’d taken on multiple jobs with the same nature. One of the names you instantly recognized, Silver. You agreed, but made your way to your old club, hoping you wouldn’t catch Jade in the process.
♡ Only now you’re clearly trying to hide from someone, because the eel is right there.
♡ Honestly, if you’re being honest, you hadn’t expected Jade to be in the Mountain Lovers Club, the most expected thing of him. You’d at least think he has a knack for camouflage, with the way he’s completely eluded your senses these past few days— or months. So imagine the consecutive, twelve heart attacks you get when you catch the prowling figure in the corner, situated where he always is since the day you stumbled into the room.
“Would it be impertinent of me to assume you’re trying to hide from me?”
♡ Ack! It’s been such a while you’ve seen Jade that it almost feels surreal. A husband returning from war, as you’d first put it during your departure in the earlier phase of your.. parasitic relationship, but now you’re not so sure anymore. What does it feel like?
♡ . . . He’s caught you dead in your rights amid your prancing, and even ensconced within your reluctance, you sneak an itsy-bitsy glance at him. Your gaze is confined to his self-same face, one that remains unchanged though you’ve spent so many days apart. His comportment is exactly as you remember it — suave and placid — and somehow, that's what makes seeing him so strange. Yours has changed, has it not? You’ve been dealing with Yuu, Scarabia, Ruggie, Vil . .
♡ Ridiculous. Leech is standing five paces away from you.
♡ What do you even say? You don’t want to probe at him, ask him where he’s been, ask him about Vil. It’s entirely possible he was occupied with the semester, with Mostro Lounge, his hikes, or whatever his slippery mind latched onto. Showing that much eagerness would definitely corrode the image you’ve been trying to build, right? Though, him disappearing right after that cheek memento seems too odd to be a coincidence, and you know it isn’t, you’ll give him the benefit of the doubt, for his own sake.
So, you just heave a sigh, and let your eyes trail to the room.
“..You've always had a talent for assumptions.”
“Have I?”
“You've assumed correctly enough times for it to become annoying.”
"How flattering.” He hums, accepting the correction. It irks you. “I’m relieved to see your wit survived my absence. I was riddled with fear, you see.” With a gloved hand on his chest, he sniffles. “How you could possibly survive without my interference.”
♡ Ugh! He expected otherwise. Sure, you had a bit of a tussle with the withdrawals, but you did just fine without him. Sure, you can see him grinning slyly at you, his words but a harmless jab.
“I considered several possibilities.” He keeps on going, eyes transfixed on the arrays of . . truth be told, an entire ecosystem of wildlife. The emanating light casts an azure glow on his face, and you find veils of lashes covering the glint in his eyes. “That you would continue avoiding the Mountain Lovers Club indefinitely, or that you had simply forgotten where it was, and I did entertain the notion that one of Schoenheit’s extracurricular endeavors had finally succeeded in claiming you. Dare I say, you're even starting to resemble him in speech.”
You pale at the implications. “You're hilarious.”
“So I've been told.” That smirk may as well be a cathedral of pointed arcs, ripping past his lips as he places a gloved hand on his chin.
There’s that usual silence, enveloping you. You try to let your attention fixate on something else to avoid the strain of conversation, somehow it feels foreign to you.
But then he breaks it.
Unfortunately.
“But of course, horrible as I may be, I couldn’t possibly leave my best friend to fend for themselves.”
♡ Ouch! You nearly topple over a display and break the glass.
“..Best friends?” You cough. “That sounds inaccurate.”
Ah, right. You had mentioned that, hadn’t you? Back when Yuu kept on pestering you, and you found no better alternative than to pin that label onto the one person you would never find yourself making friends with. His smile neither grows nor diminishes, remaining suspended in that infuriating middle ground where every word he utters sounds like the conclusion to a joke only he understands.
“I see. Then perhaps I’ve been reading the situation incorrectly.”
♡ You don’t get it too twisted. For what it’s worth, you know Jade doesn’t actually consider you a companion. In actuality, he doesn’t appear to find the idea of physical contact or friendship too appealing as demonstrated from your botched cheek kiss, the embarrassment of which you mentally recoil from — so he makes do with throwing little jests at you. Perhaps he indulges himself in your micro-expressions, the way you school them, or the sneer you send his way. It’s a wicked game, but really, you’re not all that irked. In a way, you can proceed with your plan. The keeping-Jade-Leech-near-you plan. It worked before, he wards people off perfectly, doesn’t he?
♡ You.. just have to remain interesting enough. To his eyes, that is. You need to keep his curiosity at its apogee. The question at hand is: how do you do that?
“Incorrectly?” Your voice, brought into the moment. It’s only now you realize that the both of you aren’t even looking at each other except for stolen glances eluding the other’s attention. Back to back, the two of you stare into opposing sides of a display. This can’t get any stiffer. “Usually, when a best friend disappears, they inform the other beforehand. An explanation, if you’ve ever heard of it.”
There’s silence.
You can just see the surprise coloring his face. In tinges of blue, white, green— the sea, spumes of it contorted into a release. Not a soft one, a milder, more slippery one.
“..I hadn't realized an explanation was expected.”
Something flickers across his face. You see it in the glass, the likeness of his it casts back at you when he moves his head to stare. It's gone so quickly you wonder if the light had merely shifted beneath the leaves overhead. Like a tinge of intrigue rejuvenated. You wonder what is so haplessly appealing about you?
“Then allow me to apologize.”
♡ The next moment, he’s offering you his arm, and you take it without hesitation. He’s had you close, and there he is, leading you to.. where? You don’t question it, but along the way, he deigns you a glance down.
“Perhaps I was too presumptuous.”
You don’t. “... What’s this about now?”
His eyes grow a tad bit darker, but then he grins again and you frown. "I had thought the interval of our separation might warrant another display of affection, to put it modestly..."
♡ You go still.
♡ Jade picks up on it, giving you a questioning hum. It’s gone as soon as it inspissates, and you trudge forward to the destination.
♡ . . .
♡ The cafeteria is loud, loud, loud! It feels foreign, because you spend most of your time secluded in your dorm, eating lunch junk where no one can see you. Apparently, the ghost chefs hired at said place were once five star connoisseurs, and you’d be nothing but dumb if you missed out on a chance you never had the luxury of in your past life... which goes to say: you aren’t exactly sure how to take him bringing you to the cafeteria, of all places.
“Can you go and get that sandwich for me?” Ouch, where are your manners? Eating with your mouth full? You mutter again just in case. “The one.. ugh, what’s it called? The one with the uhh—the green thing?”
“Brazenly telling me to do your bidding,” even in the hubbub of an area this packed, he manages to embody that properness immaculately. “Heh, heh, heh,” you ignore that diabolical laugh. “Now, does it not disturb you we may not be as close as you think?”
You glance at him from the corner of your eyes, mindfully chewing his question over. . . Of course, you’re never one to deem yourself of greater amity in his eyes, that’d be ludicrous to assume, but if you don’t play your cards right and act like they’re unstable, you feel like you won't be getting too far.
“..I don't know,” you admit after swallowing. There is no taste, you notice. “You haven't poisoned me yet.”
Jade stills. There’s a glint in those eyes of his, it vanishes as soon as he gives you room to ponder on your own spoken words. Why would that be your first thought? It works, though, because he prods.
“Is that your metric for friendship?”
“It’s a decent start.”
“You are very forgiving.” A chuckle sounds. “And if I refuse?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” heaving a sigh, you prop your chin on your hands woefully. “.. I would have to get it myself.. but it would’ve been really nice if you did it for me.”
“What do I receive in return?”
“I don’t know,” you drag a hand down your face. “I’ll decide when you get me my burger.”
“Did you not say you wanted a sandwich?”
“What's the difference?.. Fine. I have nineteen thaumarks you can probably barter for a mushroom pen or something.”
♡ You can tell Jade has to physically stop himself from appearing amused, because this little Scarabia NPC is genuinely trying to negotiate with their entire, non-existent wallet! Nevertheless, he doesn’t torment you more. Instead, he brings back the sandwich you wanted — and gods, it does look like the most appetizing thing on Earth. Without sparing it any mercy, you shove the thing into your mouth and disregard the question present in his eyes.
“Forgive me for probing, but the manner with which you’re.. eating that sandwich..” His eyes widen the slightest bit. “I would assume this is the first time you’ve been given the opportunity.”
“You’re one to talk. Have you eaten anything other than Destroying angels?”
♡ Aha! Shock paints his face!
♡ He is quick to mask it up, but even in that staid composure there appears to be something he wants to say to you, present in the still contemplation of his lips. Then, when you lean closer, he blinks back into reality.
“What a predictable question,” he chuckles, his familiar close-eyed smile settling back into place. “If you truly wish to know, my palate has had the fortune of wandering rather extensively. I'd argue cuisine tells one far more about a culture than history books ever could. A nation's fears, its prosperity, the produce its soil permits... all of it finds its way onto a plate.”
You hastily clamp your lips shut. Perhaps egging him to go on a tangent wasn’t the best course of action.
“Take sandwiches, for instance. They're deceptively ordinary. Bread is rarely chosen at random. A dense rye carries fillings quite differently from an airy milk loaf, while sourdough lends enough acidity that one must consider the sharpness of the accompanying vegetables. Even the order in which ingredients are layered determines whether one tastes the meat first, the herbs first... or simply a regrettable mouthful of sauce.”
“Uh—”
“Mushrooms are especially remarkable in that regard. Their flavour changes so dramatically depending on the variety and preparation. A delicate sauté brings out an earthy sweetness, whereas roasting deepens their savoriness entirely. Some are wonderful folded into cream sauces, others are best left almost untouched. They're... surprisingly expressive ingredients.”
By the time he’s finished his prating, you’ve already downed everything at the table. Food’s shadow coils in the corners of your mouth as you relish in the aftertaste, but it’s a bit hard to do so, especially when the eel is eyeing you all the while. Tongue swiping across the back of your teeth, you emit a false cough and look towards him. You don’t even know what it is he’s eating, and you don’t question it.
“For a second, I thought we weren’t talking about food anymore.” You quip, glancing at him. Hm, strange. Why’s he looking at you like he wants to pounce—
♡ He shoves a spoonful of food into your mouth!
“Did you taste the basil?” Utensil remaining untouched, he pours his attention onto you. The back of your palm bolsters your coughs as you try to get the shock out of your system, setting him straight with a mean glare. The sudden action combined with your little injury has you sure he just knocked a tooth out or something.
“What the fu—” You massage your throat, immediately unsealing your lips to take a look at your mouth. No teeth knocked out, thankfully. “You little..”
Open-mouthed, you think over his question. “There was basil?”
“..Hm.”
“I didn’t even taste it.”
“..Hm.”
“Is there usually basil in this?”
“Hm.”
His lackluster responses make you look at him.
♡ . . . Strange how he’s looking at you back like that.
♡ You blink at him. He’s staring at you like you just slapped a bucket of water over him. He only snaps out of it when you wave a hand over his face and seal your lips into a questioning line, eliciting an atypical.. gulp from him.
”I apologize.” He closes his eyes. “What were you saying?”
“There was basil in this?”
Raising his fork, the prongs glister beneath the light, sliding along the curvature of its gaps.
"There was. If I was where you’re sitting, I’d taste it quite deftly.. Simply because,” he muses and muses.
Stab!
Prongs are embedded into a slab of food, guillotined by steel before your eyes and shredded open into rivulets like juice. Soundlessly directing your attention to those eyes, twins of olive-brown and gold nailed down with mirth, he croons.
“..My family always believed a meal ought to be savored rather than conquered.”
There is silence crowding the contest of eye contact.
You excuse yourself shortly.
It’s time for your next class.
♡ Malleus Draconia and Cater Diamond are standing right fucking next to you.
♡ The sentence is melodramatic, because for someone of such a high-sounding prestige, they’ve been confined to the space of the botanical garden's verdant grounds. When does one ever get the chance to utter that? Two complete opposites standing next to one another, and oh, there’s you too, trying not to drown in your own ill-fitting, misshapen lab uniform, but chances are they don't notice, because the heir to Briar Valley is completely soaked right now!
“What's going on here, Diamond? Why is water spraying at me out of nowhere?”
♡ Yikes. Even his voice is intimidating enough to make your spine stiffen. You're practically shivering in your boots.
♡ ...No, no. Pull yourself together. Trying to sneak past him now would only invite unwanted attention. All you have to do is what everyone else at Night Raven College seems to manage effortlessly: avert your eyes, keep your head down, and scurry off before the future king notices your existence. The campus had already written the script for interactions with Malleus Draconia years ago! Fear him. Avoid him. Pretend you have somewhere else to be!
♡ It had only just struck the end of Alchemy, and you'd wandered into the subtropical section of the greenhouse to collect the specimen you'd been cultivating. Stumbling into... this... certainly hadn't been part of the itinerary. Then again, they were your schoolmates. Running into them shouldn't have been surprising. (Oh, it’s only surprising because you’ve completely isolated yourself from Yuu now. Avoiding them, never lingering long enough. Something within you ceases to exit when your mind wanders back to the infirmary. Was that real? Have you gone mad?)
“It's the sprinkler system.” You don't even need to look to picture Cater's grin. “They use it for irrigation. Whole zone's got a timer that mimics subtropical rainfall. Guess nobody gave you the tour.”
“Artificial rain...” Malleus repeats, almost thoughtfully.
A gloved hand reaches into the downpour. Water gathers upon his fingertips before dripping back into the beds of foliage below. “How curious. Humans truly do possess peculiar methods of tending their gardens.”
♡ You'd like to point out that the future king of Briar Valley is currently discovering... sprinklers, but you enjoy living. Besides, everyone has gaps in their knowledge. You, for one, still don't know why Professor Trein insists on carrying Lucius into class when the cat has never once demonstrated academic aptitude. Quietly, you crouch beside one of the planter boxes. Your herb should be... there! Perfect!
♡ Nearly uprooting the entire planter, you make a beeline towards the exit! Phew, you survived that. Now you have to suffer through the remainder of your classes.
♡ Soon enough, most of them are over, and the midterm results are to be announced very, very soon. Before that, you adhere to your job as the Night Raven mailperson. It’d be wise of you to get the job done before there’s a herd gathering, and Kalim’s voice is already etched onto your mind by the time you’re carrying the letters.
♡ Sifting through hundreds of parchments, you realize three of them belong to.. Diasomnia residents. There’s an anonymous love letter, Kalim’s invitation card, and a letter from home! You should be able to catch them on campus if you hurry — because you’ll have to delay your plans if they're in their respective dormitories. It also makes you lament on why you even agreed to deliver the invitation card to Silver, of all people, but you have to thank Kalim for his help some way. This just happened to be the easiest. Chances are you’ll find him drowning in sleep. Can’t be that hard.
♡ It takes you a while to find him. The hallways are brimming with people.
♡ True to your deduction, there he is, eyes slid down in respite and chest rising with ebbs and falls. Though you don’t look at his face that long, he's still dressed in his labwear. This should be easy enough— but quickening footfalls of other students have you sifting hastily through the bag — and you pluck out the card, tucking it into his pocket. He shuffles in his sleep, lips parted, murmuring something, but you’re already running off like your hands have caught fire. . . and they may as well have.
♡ — Because halfway up the staircase, you realize the card is still in your hand.
. . . . ?
You blink, turning it over. It’s Kalim’s invitation card. And— Diasomnia, right there. And.. there's the letter from home. And—
♡ The fucking love letter!
♡ You’re sprinting back, nearly toppling over the staircase. You gave him the love letter! A few students eye you— no, no, no — you feel stressed tears prick at your eyes when you see Silver’s resting place devoid of any presence. He’s gone! (With the love letter still in his pocket!)
♡ . . . By the time you return, huffing and puffing, you’re frowning. How the hell did you mess that up? Fortunately, Jade’s already there, waiting for you. Arm in arm, you walk.
“Do I need to assume?”
“No.”
♡ It’s no biggie, you think. You’ll just catch him at a later time, or have someone retrieve the letter for you. Out of every love interest, Silver should be the most compliant. You just need to focus on something else.
♡ A tide of students, the same as before. They’re all circling what looks to be the board, and some of them part when they catch the eel’s look. There’s a rush. A stampede. Midterm results are here. Bodies are released and ejected like someone kicked open an anthill, and through the writhing masses, you catch sight of . . Yuu. Grim, Ace, and Deuce. The furball’s pointing up at the listed names, and perpetual horror slashes everyone’s faces into two. What makes you uncertain, though, is that the prefect also looks horrified.
Why do they look horrified?
Your answer comes in the form of an anemone ripping out of their hair.
𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗡𝗧 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦 — dead dove: do not eat. female antagonist reader. yandere reverse harem. all x reader. descriptions of death and violence. innuendo + suggestive content. dating sim twisted wonderland but make everyone actually twisted.
OH, NO! YOU POOR, UNFORTUNATE SOUL! Well, to sum it up, you have been transmigrated, now you’re in a game. The Once-in-a-Lifetime Chance to Fall in Love with Charming Gentlemen at the Most Prestigious Magic Academy! Catchy, isn't it? Shame it's also a yandere dating simulator, and . . you are not the heroine. You have been banished into the horrible villainess’s body, where you’re forced to watch the brooding men lay destruction to the world just to call the protagonist theirs. It’s a game of death to you. Because every single time, every respawn point, even though you fight so, so hard: you are brutally killed by one of the yanderes. You are not in a game, you are in a time loop of misery where death is nothing if not your beloved acquaintance.
Wait, wait, wait, wait!
Those were the last words you uttered in your official, well-deserved, one thousandth loop. In other words, you got killed again. How utterly melodramatic.
Boo, boo, booo! Throw tomatoes! It’s become a lovely little pastime at this point, so much so that if you aren’t dead by the time you reach the Savanaclaw arc, you start questioning things. That’s a brutal, brutal, brutal lens to peer at life with, but it’s become a part of you — the innermost core, if you will. For ever since your arrival, you’ve been subjected to nothing but violence, and that’s not even an exaggeration, is it? You’ve been killed by every method under the sun: strangled, poisoned, impaled, buried alive, straight up eaten, and that's only one of the more PG versions! It’s the curse of the villainess, a character no one truly deigns a glance, yet in spite of the various anomalies the main character faces, their love interests always end up taking their frustration out on you! Poor, old you. It’s ludicrous how you never really get used to it, you just learn to bite back the screams.
Now that you think about it, what was the original game even about? It was the usual type, really, some cheesy excuse of a .zip file you deemed nothing but a cringefest — only playing it for the gorgeous visuals and men, and you’d argue the same goes for anyone who dared touch it. Because in what universe does a yandere game centered around overarching, lovelorn devotion sound good? . . . Apparently yours because you ate it all up and left nothing to interpretation. You can’t blame yourself, the plotline was filthy good for such a low-quality ad and the fandom the size of an atom, don’t put any blame by your feet for wanting to be the first player!
No one ever told you you’d be given a role this horrifying, though.
Sure, the world building seemed intimidating. Overblots, dark romance, whatnot . . but you just wanted an itsy-bitsy piece of the guilty pleasure, nothing more, nothing less. It wasn’t everyday you stumbled upon a game with ridiculously well-crafted and deep characters, after all.
Well . . . now you have no purpose whatsoever, and you mean that in a philosophical sense. Before Yuu, the story goes as follows. You, the nameless villainess, were the only girl in Night Raven, naturally, somewhere in the developer's office, someone decided the pinnacle of storytelling was making two girls hate each other's guts. It’s a concept you don’t like, even more so when all the odds are stacked against you, and sometimes it even gets tiring, because the pre-determined dialogue and choices set for Yuu give them a somewhat timid appearance. Grow a backbone! There is an insane power imbalance, you see — and of course they’re going to need extra protection from all their knights in shining armor.
The greatest odd against you, however, is the dorm that’s been chosen for you.
Knock, knock, knock!
Knuckles drumming against the door, you are roused from your sleep. Bright, lambent sunlight seeps in from the windows, the peak wherein your room’s inundated with a glow so much like a cherub’s tear, attacking your eyes and reminding you, you have no business being up at the ass crack at dawn.
Unless . .
Title Unlocked — Headless Maiden.
You died! Riddle wanted it to be off with your head. Shame he took it so literally.
You died again.
You recoil. Images. Images are what you see. A gaggle of memories flooding your brain, crimson’s brutish spread meandering down the crucible of your throat in sprays. It hurt, it hurt, it hurt, it hurt. And it still hurts, a burn so real you realize a scream thrashes at the apex of your tongue until it blurs into a half-choked sob of misery, where your hands are coaxed towards your esophagus, trying to alleviate the sharp phantom’s touch. You have sprung upright, and the bed creaking beneath the sudden weight reminds you someone is still knocking at your door, the door to your room, the room where you’ve died so many times..
The room that’s now stripped of everything.
Everything is white, as is every respawn. Every single trinket, achievement or personal belonging has now been reset, making you stare at a swathe of the sort of white you’d find in hospitals or an asylum’s padded room. No! You’d worked so hard at Crisp ‘n dips trying to afford that one lipstick, and now it’s all gone. Every single thing you’d worked your bones off for are nowhere to be seen, thrown into the system’s savage bin, and once again, you suppress a bitter laugh from bubbling over, they truly spare you no pity.
“Miss?”
Miss. That’s what they call you here. Miss, because you have no name attached to you. Shuffling off your bed and realizing just how enervated you must look, you slowly open the door, peaking through the gap.
Luckily, it’s just a second year.
“Housewarden Schoenheit wants everyone to be up and ready. Take a shower, trim your nails, iron your orientation robes.. And—er..”
“And make sure not a single strand is overlooked.”
“Yes, that’s right!”
Your respawn point is orientation. Well, before it. Due to such unadulterated generosity, you are given a few hours of respite before all hell breaks loose and takes you up into its flames.
Prompt: "Sour Gummies, Cinnamon Discs, and Milk Chews <3" -- Ace Trappola X Reader X Deuce Spade -- Ace and Deuce are sent into the future. It's not as either thought it would be...but that's not necessarily a bad thing.
Requisitioner: Cove!
Warnings: None!
Words: 4832! (Purchase: Custom Fiction.)
A/N: Hello everyone! We've got another commission to be shared, requested over on my ko-fi! This one comes to you by the sponsor 'Cove!' -- This fic is a fun spin on a post I made about a PregnantFutureYuu! being sent back in time, alongside my post where the cast doesn't know Yuu's real name. I had a lot of fun writing this one, working with perspectives and testing my ability to tell a story between the lines. Ace really takes custody of the shared braincell here. Oh! This fic also ties in with TheDarlingCase!.
Notes for self-insert: Yuu is described to be polyamourous, goes by they/them, wears glasses, and is someone who can carry children. Yuu is from Earth and talks with heavy Gen Z slang.
If you'd like to make a request of your own. Click: HERE!
If you'd like to learn about my medical journey, view my rates, or learn why I'm accepting commissions. Click: HERE!
Illusion class was already going off the rails before Crewel even opened his mouth to start attendance. You were half-listening from your seat, elbow propped on the desk, while Ace and Deuce sat side by side like two idiots who had definitely, absolutely, for sure studied last night.
They did not, lazy at their couch potato cores.
You knew that because you had spent a solid twenty minutes hounding them about it while they kept stretching for “five more minutes” and after three of those you were absolutely over it. If you wanted to be a mother you’d endure the nine months of uterus-cursed agony and then get talked to like your word was dirt after sixteen years of wishing you were dead. You know. The right way.
That, or play stand-in DM for Idia again. You never want to run DnD club with Azul as a player ever again. Bless Shroud for his ability to stand it but that OctoNerd cuts into the narration way too much. If he has a problem with your surround sound immersion, he can shell out the madol for speakers or choke on his own ink.
You gave up on the flunkers, went to bed, and ditched them to partner with Ortho, because at least the little Shroud had the decency to cheat through his metalworks and not a way that will result in anemones on your head. You also don’t trust any other first year to cast a spell on you with a ten-foot wand. Robot and the magicless twink. Easy A by default.
Now, with Professor Crewel pacing at the front of the room and the whole class lined up for the practical portion of the test, Ace and Deuce were standing together with matching expressions of undeserved confidence. That’s fine. Every idiot needs to get knocked on their ass once in a while to remember it hurts.
“Alright, you two,” Crewel said sharply, flicking his whip once against his palm. “Your assigned spell is a simple exchange transference. One casts, the other stabilizes. If you cannot manage that, then perhaps you should both be wearing bibs and sitting at the kiddie table.”
Ace’s grin turned a little strained. Deuce straightened up like he had just been personally challenged by the concept of failure.
You leaned toward Ortho, muttering, “How long do you think they’ll hold it for?.”
Ortho tilted his head. “Ah. One moment – according to my calculations, they have a 36% chance of success!”
“Peachy.” Your eyes rolled, though a hint of worry tucked into your tone.
Ace rolled his shoulders and gave Deuce a look. “Okay, this is easy. We swap spots, we don’t explode, and then we get to rub it in Housewarde’s face…”
Deuce nodded far too hard. “Right. Simple. Clean. Efficient.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose. “You guys sound like a pair of raccoons trying to operate a microwave.”
Ace pointed a finger at you without looking away from Deuce. “See? That. That attitude is why we’re the strongest group in this room.”
“Please,” you said, popping open a sour gummy from your back pocket. “I could knock both of you over with a strong breeze.”
To prove your point, you took in a breath and blew at Ace’s face. Even at a distance his nose scrunched up.
“Focus, mangey pups!” Crewel snapped his whip, and the room went quiet.
Ace lifted his wand. Deuce did the same.
A thin, shimmering circle of magic bloomed between them, wobbling like a bad reflection in water. For one brief second, it actually looked like they might manage it.
Then Ace smirked.
Deuce frowned. “What did you do?”
“I didn’t do anything!”
“That’s exactly what someone who did something wrong would say.”
“Bitch.”
Crewel’s eye twitched. “Language, Trappola – Both of you, stop yammering and cast already.”
They tried. You had to give them that.
The spell pulsed once, bright and unstable, and the air in the classroom suddenly hissed like a live wire. Papers lifted off desks. The chalkboard rattled. Your hair blew back from your face as the magic snapped tighter and tighter between them.
“Uh,” Ace said, his grin finally gone, “is it supposed to do that?”
“No,” Deuce said, voice climbing an octave. “I do not think that is supposed to do that.”
Crewel’s whip cracked against the floor. “Fix it. Now.”
You started to rise, already reaching out, but the circle between Ace and Deuce collapsed inward with a violent flash.
There was a loud pop.
Then they were gone.
“Oh for fuck’s sake! Someone get a stretcher because I’m gonna rip those two from their buttcheeks to their eyeballs later!”
–
The first thing Ace did when he came to was swear loudly enough to make his own ears ring.
The second thing was slap at the floor, a wall, and then Deuce’s shoulder all in the same motion before finally managing to sit up.
“Agh! This is the last time I partner with you for anything, Juice?! Hear me?!”
“It’s Deuce! For the final time you asshole, it’s Deuce!”
They were in a living room.
A nice one, too. Not fancy in the way of a wealthy noble house or one of those museum-looking estates Heartslabyul liked to show off with, but lived-in. Warm. Familiar in a way that made Ace’s stomach do a weird, uneasy flip.
Mainly because he doesn’t recognize a thing and they were clearly trespassing on someone’s property. Great. A failed test and made criminals in one day? Fucking fantastic.
Sunlight came in through the front windows. The curtains were half-drawn. A couch sat in front of a low coffee table littered with books, a charging cable, and what looked suspiciously like a half-empty bag of dried fruit snacks. There was a blanket tossed over one arm of the sofa like someone had abandoned it mid-nap.
Deuce moved first, crossing the room in quick, tense steps. He reached the window and carefully pulled the curtain back with two fingers.
Then he went still.
Ace frowned. “What?”
Deuce stared out for a long second before letting the curtain fall back into place. His face had gone pale in a way Ace did not like at all.
“That’s…” Deuce swallowed thickly. “This is Crimson City! We somehow got sent to the Queendom!”
Deuce pointed, not even bothering to hide how shaken he was now. “Don’t you remember from Riddle-Senpai and Trey-Senpai’s pictures?! Look! We’re right by the town square that’s not too far from where they grew up.”
Ace pushed himself up and looked out the other side of the curtain. Sure enough, the road outside was familiar. There was the plaza Trey talked about when they first asked where he knew Chen’ya from Royal Sword Academy. Ace was shocked Deuce remembered, but then again he clung to anything their upperclassmen said like a toddler at storytime.
If Ace shoved his head out the window, he might be able to see Clover bakery or catch the eye of the police department. The latter would be of big use to get them both back to campus in one piece.
Though, as he let the curtain fall back, Ace had a gut feeling that it couldn’t be that easy.
“Somethin’ isn’t adding up. I just…can’t pinpoint what.”
Ace turned back to the empty room, counting his blessings that whoever lived here wasn’t home. They just needed to find a key out. Fast. He ran towards the front door and made to look for the lock, yet balked in the face of a STYX keypad staring him in the face.
Upon closer look, it’s the same kind of lock Ace knew Idia Shroud had installed on Ramshackle’s front door. He wanted to test the code you set for some reason, but these things are the kind that alert the owner of a failed attempt. He better not.
“What the hell? Why’s there something so high-grade in an old house like this?” Deuce pokes over his shoulder, gripping Ace’s shoulder like he didn’t know his own strength.
Ace pried Deuce’s hand off, his mind wondering the same thing as he turned to survey their domestic prison.
No sign of whoever lived here having left more than a minute ago. There were shoes by the door, a cardigan slung over the back of a dining chair, and a charging pad on the counter with a phone sitting on it.
Deuce looked like he was about ten seconds from pissing himself. Which would be funny in any other situation. “We shouldn’t be in here, man. My permanent record can’t handle a B & E charge!”
“Yeah, no shit. Just shut up and let me think.”
Ace wandered forward, dragging a hand through his hair. His eyes kept catching on little things. A mug with a chipped handle. A stack of mail. A bowl on the kitchen counter full of wrapped candies. The decor felt familiar. A glance in the bowl showed a mix of cinnamon disks, sour gummies, and milk chews. His jaw set.
Then he settled on the fireplace mantle, and more importantly, the photos and trinkets lined up atop it. A staple for any normal Queendom home, really.
Deuce seemed to have the same thought only sooner, having beat Ace there. He stood dead still in front of something hand hovering over as if touching it would burn him.
Ace squinted.
Medals.
A whole row of them, sitting there in neat little frames or on hooks with their ribbons carefully straightened. Some looked old. Some looked newer. All of them were the kind of medals you only got from Blastcycle racing.
Deuce made a strangled noise. “No way.”
Ace stepped in for a closer look.
One of the medals had a tiny engraved plaque beneath it, the name ‘SPADE’ etched next to first place.
“These are mine,” Deuce said, voice barely above a whisper, “B-but this isn’t my house? I…I stored these away under my bed back at home when I decided to stop street racing. Why are they here?”
Ace was about to answer when he caught a glimpse down the nearest hallway. His mouth went dry.
His guitar. Specifically the electric hand-me-down he got from his brother back when he tried to impulse learn to impress a girl in middle school.
Hanging up neatly, strung on the wall like it was a piece of decor instead of the old beat-up thing he knew. It had the same chipped edge on the body. Same worn strings. Same tiny scratch near the neck from the time he’d dug his nails in and chipped the varnish.
Before Ace could admit to owning such a sad piece, he heard Deuce gasp and was ripped from that nostalgic feeling. His partner in crime moved onto examining the photos mounted on the walls and was eyeing them like he was stuck in some low-production telenova.
He came to see what the big hullabaloo was and was met with your face staring back at him. Whomever owned this house either knew you or was a stalker – because how else would they come to have a picture of you when Ace had to fight tooth and nail just for a selfie? Damn gremlin.
Though…the longer he stared, the less it looked like the you he knew and someone else entirely. He wonders who convinced you to sit poised for a hand-painted portrait.
….Draconia, maybe. Though he doubts Malleus lives in a townhome in briar valley.
Ace moves on to the picture Deuce couldn’t seem to tear away from and nearly chokes on his own spit.
You again. Of course. Though not you at the same time. He recognizes Night Raven’s graduate regalia by nature, but the photo’s context is clear as you’re proudly polishing a rolled-up diploma.
And next to you – on either side – ? Ace. Deuce. Brandishing their own diplomas with an arm thrown over your shoulders.
Deuce made a noise that sounded like his soul had briefly left his body.
Ace stared at the photo for one beat longer, then looked sideways at him. “Why are you making that face?”
Deuce pointed at the frame with a hand that was suddenly not very steady. “D-do you think we got transported to Yuu’s world? They look so much like their mother…oh hell! How are we going to get home?!”
Ace blinked, because what?
Then promptly slapped Deuce upside the head.
“Do you even hear yourself right now?”
Ace didn’t wait for Deuce to blow up or get defensive.
“First of all,” he said, deadpan, “We’re in Crimson City. Second? That is a picture of us, you dolt. Have you ever met Yuu’s mom? Huh? Unless she’s a mage capable of crossing dimensions like her whacko kid then I don’t think so!.”
Deuce’s expression went blank. Ace couldn’t fault him for grasping at straws but he wasn’t in the mood.
Ace pointed at the picture. “Third, that is Yuu. You know. The person whose voice you would recognize if they called you from inside a trash can.”
Deuce squinted at the frame again, still not fully convinced. “How can you be sure?”
Ace made a helpless motion toward the whole photo arrangement like the answer should be obvious to anyone with functioning eyeballs. “Because that is literally the same face they make when they are about to say something that will ruin my day. I bet five madol this was taken moments before prime bitch-craft.”
“And you know what this means?” Ace continued, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“What?”
Seven, why is it that today Yuu kept their shared braincell.
The next photo sat beside the graduation one.
It’s a picture of the house’s front steps, matching the view from outside the window. The two of them grinning like idiots, each holding one half of a key ring, with you standing between them and holding Grim in your arms.
“We’re in the future, dumbass! We didn’t just get sent to the Queendom, but another time!”
Ace tried really hard not to think further, because if they went into the future…then what? Is this another timeline? God, does future you keep your fridge stocked with beer? He needs a drink.
“N-no way! Are you serious?!” Deuce freaked, moving to the next picture. A photo of Grim with his face stuffed full of dried nori, paws on the table, looking like a tiny criminal caught mid-heist.
Ace snorted before he could stop himself. “And there’s our little menace.”
Taped beside it was a handwritten note in neat, familiar-looking script. Not a formal label. Just a date and a little heart…which was set nearly ten years ahead. Deuce pulled his phone out to double check and only then did the reality settle in.
Ace found the last picture on the wall.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
It was all three of you on the couch.
The two of them—older them, future them, whatever the hell this was—were kissing your cheeks. Not pecking them. Not leaning in awkwardly for a skit. Not some blurry, accidental motion caught mid-frame.
Full-on, obvious, shameless cheek kisses. One on each side, both of them looking pleased with themselves in the exact kind of smug, annoying way Ace knew he himself would absolutely make if given the opportunity. Meanwhile you’re grinning from ear to ear and not trying to murder the cameraman for getting you in frame.
Ace made a face so disgusted it could have curdled milk, burning his burning cheeks in his collar. Deuce went rigid so fast it looked like somebody had yanked a wire through his spine.
“Fuck! Ugh. Gross. My eyes! My eyes are gonna melt off!”
For a second, Ace realizes he sounds far too much like you and guts himself even further.
Deuce ignored him, still fixed on the photo like he could will it to make sense if he stared hard enough. The older versions of them looked so comfortable there it was unsettling.
Like this was normal. Like this was one tiny piece of a much bigger life they had somehow already lived.
Ace narrowed his eyes at the frame. “Who keeps a picture like this on the wall?”
“Them,” Deuce said automatically, then looked troubled by his own answer. He referred to his future self as another entity. All three of them, side-eyeing Ace for his reaction. The two shared a look that barely lasted a split second, before Ace broke it and started down the hallway.
Deuce braced to be tugged along, maybe with another barb, but Ace merely gestured for him to follow as if touch was too much. Both boys walked the path carefully, keeping an intentional foot between them. Nothing more was said as they entered the first room available, yet didn’t need to be.
Clearly there were some…developments.
They come up to the office. Nothing fancy at first glance, though highly organized. Nothing like the chaos of their dorm room or the dilapidated state of Ramshackle. Whomever worked here clearly liked their things put together.
Desk. Floor lamp. Sofa for visitors. Yet another candy bowl. The computer that Ace was itching to dig through now that he knew the password would be something he could guess. Maybe.
On the wall furthest from the door were the same diplomas from the graduation picture. Ace recognizes his own John Hancock – he never learned why you call signatures that, but would have to ask – along with Deuces.
He comes up on the third hanging scroll and his stomach does a twist. Each student who graduates from Night Raven comes out with a specialization from their fourth year of study.
The name scrawled on this Diploma is not one he recognizes. Their internship in Psychology. Huh.
“You know who this is, man?” Ace tests the name on his tongue.
Deuce moved closer to the psychology degree, squinting at the name beneath it. “No. I can’t say I know anyone from our school with that name.”
“Neither do I,” Ace said, already walking to the desk. “But I hate them already. Ten years and we still have three roommates? This future sucks.”
The lie comes easy. He just didn’t like the idea of a fourth…roommate. That’s not how he imagined their situation turning out.
He dropped into the chair, hit the power button on the computer, and watched the screen wake with a bright little lockscreen. That name sat in the corner, clean and unfamiliar, and it pissed him off even more. His chances of guessing the password just nose dived. Ace narrowed his eyes at it, then started trying every password that came to mind, from obvious dates to guesses so dumb they counted as insults.
Ace typed another guess, then another, jaw tightening when the screen refused to budge. He was midway through a third, increasingly petty attempt when the front door opened somewhere behind them.
Both boys froze.
Then a voice drifted in from the entryway, clear and familiar enough to make Ace’s stomach drop.
“Ace? Deuce?Is anyone else home?”
For one stupid, suspended second, neither of them reacted. Then they looked at each other, wide-eyed and silent, and slowly, carefully, both poked their heads out of the office doorway.
–
You stood in the entryway toeing off your shoes, one hand full of grocery bags, the other already dragging a little at your lower back to support yourself while balancing upright. Your hair was shorter now, cut to your chin in a way that made you look sharper around the face, and your voice—when you muttered something under your breath about the shoe rack—hit his ears with that same sassy pitch, just richer, worn in around the edges after a long day judging by the curses spoken under your breath.
Ace’s brain made a sound somewhere between a screech and a system error.
Then his eyes dropped to the way you moved, slow and careful, belly rounded enough that there was no polite way to pretend not to notice it.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
You were pregnant.
Ace had exactly half a second to process that before Deuce came barreling past him like a helpful golden retriever and immediately took the grocery bags from your arms.
You blinked at him, then at Ace, and for one brief moment the three of you just stared at each other like the universe had launched a brick through the window.
“Why are you guys brats?!”
“What the fuck?!”
Both yourself and Ace shrieked at the same time. Deuce’s shoulders drew up to his ears at the volume as he stumbled, swerved not to hit your stomach, and whacked his knee on the doorframe.
Ace paid Deuce’s cries no mind. “How are we here? What is going on? Explain the pictures on the walls, explain why you’re—” his hand gestured wildly at your stomach, because subtlety had clearly died in this timeline, “—like four sizes bigger than I know you?! What the hell is going on!”
You stared at him.
Then, without warning, you stepped forward and smacked both him and Deuce upside the head in one quick, practiced motion.
“Both of you get your dirty ass sneakers off my carpet, ya heathens!”
Operating on pure instinct, having heard those same words back at Ramshackle, both boys practically jump out of their shoes. Deuce was a bit more sluggish as he nursed his knee and head.
“Can you guys stop hitting me today?”
“We will if you stop being yourself,” Ace joshed, though with more bite than intended as he helped Deuce balance by his elbow.
You’d taken the chance to collect your bags and sidestep them both, stress across your brow but not enough to bite your tongue.
You exhaled through your nose, eyes sweeping over both of them like you were taking inventory. “God, you’re both as loud as ever. Remind me to gift you matching muzzles for our anniversary.”
Ace narrowed his eyes, choosing not to ask. “That’s not an answer to any of my questions.”
“No,” you said, deadpan, “it really isn’t, but it’s the only one you’re getting until you stop acting like feral animals in our foyer.”
“Our foyer?” Ace repeated, skeptical?
You pointed at the hall, then at the office, then at the living room, each gesture sharp and certain. “Yes. My house. My foyer. My grocery bags. My very unfortunate afternoon, it seems.”
Deuce, bless him, looked like he might actually be trying to help. “S-should we put these away?”
You gave him a look that softened by a fraction. “Thank you. Please. Kitchen counter.”
Deuce nodded and disappeared into the kitchen with the bags.
Ace stayed where he was, still staring at you, trying to put your face, your voice, the photos, the office, and the very uhm - round - state of your body into a shape that made sense. He wasn’t an idiot but this is a lot for a guy who only had some jellybeans for breakfast to process. It didn’t help that you were eyeing him with that same scrutiny, though like looking at a memory rather than a prospect.
You watched him watch you, then sighed.
“All right,” you said. “Dinner first. Questions later. You two are helping me make spaghetti.”
Ace blinked. “What?”
You already turned toward the kitchen. “Spaghetti. With cut-up hot dogs. Because someone,” and here you gave him a long, pointed glare over your shoulder, “spent the grocery budget on a new muffler for his car.”
Ace’s mouth fell open. “I didn’t! Well - uh, me? This me didn’t! God, does this mean you’re gonna be nagging me for my whole life?!”
“You’re lucky I love you enough in the future not to throw that car at your head, Trappola.”
Deuce made an audible choking sound from the kitchen, and Ace glared in that direction on principle before following you in.
The kitchen looked lived in too, cluttered in a way that made the house feel real instead of staged. A pot sat on the stove. A carton of eggs on the counter. A half-read manga near the sink.
Ace leaned against the counter while you moved around it with familiar ease, like you’d done this exact routine a thousand times. Deuce, meanwhile, filled a pot with water and kept shooting confused little glances between the two of you like he was trying to solve a puzzle without the picture on the box.
Ace’ll have to explain later. Like usual.
You noticed both of them staring and rolled your eyes.
“What?”
Ace shrugged. “You’re weird. This is weird. You should be freaking out and you’re not. I’m waiting for you to turn the knife on me.”
You snorted. “That’s rich coming from you.Luckily I’m not feeling very stabby today.”
He should have answered with something smart, but then you looked over at him with that same old expression he knew from the present—half fond, half exasperated, entirely capable of turning into a threat—and his brain tripped over itself again.
Deuce wasn’t fairing any better, unable to keep from looking at your stomach so he busied to help wherever you needed. Ace took to setting the table, not missing you call him lazy as he parked himself at the spot closest to the exit. You look at him like you have a joke on the tip of your tongue but let it go.
Damn. Self-control? Maybe he likes this version of you better.
The silence between the four walls felt strangely domestic for something that started with a magical mishap and a disappearance.
By the time they sat down, Ace was still waiting for the punchline.
You took the first bite and, to his surprise, looked almost wistful.
“This is nice,” you said.
Ace glanced up. “Nice?”
You nodded, eyes flicking between the two of them. “I miss seeing you both this young. Ace, with your mid-ass haircut. Deuce, my sweet summersunshine sweet tea with no social awareness.”
Deuce nearly dropped his fork.
Ace almost choked on his spaghetti.
You rested your chin in one hand and looked at them with maddening calm. “News flash, by the way. You do not get more tolerable with age.”
Ace scowled. “Wow.”
“Bet,” you added, and now your mouth tipped into something warmer, “but you’re still cute.”
Deuce went red immediately. Ace sat there for a full second, frozen, then looked away to check his hair in the reflection of his fork.
Across the table, they both exchanged one of those silent looks they’d perfected over a year of understanding each other too well. Ace caught the moment everything clicked in place for Deuce, when all the little unspoken aligned and he blushed from the ears down.
Stay delulu, Deuce. Let your dreams fly high, as you’d say.
What they could be in the present, what they would become in the future…if this was the right timeline.
Though a question still clung to the back of Ace’s mind that made these hotdogs taste like rancid socks soaked in pineapple juice.
He lifted his eyes to you.
“I got one question that I want answered,” he said slowly, because the thought was too ridiculous to speak in one go and also because his face was getting hot for reasons he refused to think. He made little finger quotes around the word when he finally forced it out. “This whole… “situation” thing. Is there another person? I wanna know who.”
The name back on the psychology diploma. It was nagging his jealous bone, sue him.
Deuce kicked him under the table.
Ace shot him a look. “What? I’m asking.”
You blinked, genuinely confused. “Uh. No?”
Ace narrowed his eyes. “No?”
You leaned back in your chair. “Were you simping for somebody else back then that I didn’t know about?”
Deuce made a strangled noise and kicked Ace again, harder this time, as if body language alone could save them from this conversation.
Ace ignored him and tipped his chin toward the office. “Then explain the psychology diploma in your office. Who’s the name? Someone we know or are going to know?”
You went very still.
For half a second, the only sound in the kitchen was the weak hiss of a pop can cracking and the clink of Deuce’s fork against his plate.
Then you barked a laugh, sudden and delighted and way too amused by their suffering.
“Oh,” you said, wiping at the corner of one eye. “That.”
You shook your head, still grinning. “There is no fourth person. Legit, I can barely handle both of you and you think I have the patience for another? Relax your jelly gene. If you want to know who owns that diploma, ask my younger self when you get back home.”
Wow. You’re really just as –
The front door opened.
Grim’s voice rang out through the house. “Yuu! Are you still alive, or did you finally sit down and get stuck in the recliner again?”
Ace barely turned before the cat himself appeared in the kitchen doorway, eyes narrowing immediately at the sight of the two boys before he recognized them.
Then, with a soft pop and a burst of magic that smelled faintly like burnt ozone, both boys vanished from their chairs in the middle of the room.
“Welp,” you lean back, taking a drag from your soda “guess that’s the end of younger me’s trauma. Grim? Are they back yet – ”
A/n: I decided to give you all a break from my usual sad tormenting/agonizing stories🥰 enjoy!
Words: 1.1k
Pairing: Silver Vanrouge x fem! Reader
Warnings: none just pure fluff and kinda crack fic?
-
Lilia was SICK and I mean SICK and TIRED of the lovesick and utterly helpless look his son always had on his face every time you were near their line of vision.
He knew about his son's huge crush on you. I mean how could he not with the way silver LOOKS at you like you’re the only thing in this world?! Soft eyes staring at you with nothing but admiration and attention.
Can his son not be any more obvious?
Lilia tried to talk to him about it. Get him to make a move so his son can be happy. Totally not because he’s excited for potential grandbabies
Anyways
Silver dismissed his father’s proposal of setting the two of you up for a date. He said that he wasn’t sure if you even liked him back, thinking you probably liked one of your first year friends due to your closeness with them.
Which almost made Lilia laugh
ALMOST
It’s painfully obvious of your relationship with those two heartslabyul guys. He once heard you say how you view them as siblings, which made him cackle from seeing the reactions of your two friends who looked absolutely mortified. Leaving you confused on why the older fae found it funny.
But that was during the first few months of you being here, after that the duo started seeing you as a very close friend/sister.
ANYWAYS ENOUGH OF THAT
Lilia is sick and absolutely TIRED of seeing his son sulk and love you from afar. Trust me he’s seen his son stare at you like a divorced man that fumbled his beautiful ex wife and wants her back. So he’s going to finally take matters into his own hands and start setting up plans and ways to get you and his son together. (And maybe also pray to the great sevens for extra measures)
-
“In the count of three, we all show our results”
“One…”
“Two…”
“Three!!” You all turn your papers around and stare at your scores. You visibly cringe at seeing your barely passing score. The loud noise from Ace made you turn around as you saw him jaw slacked. Staring at his own paper in horror.
“No way”
“This can’t be! I studied for weeks!” You patted deuce back gently. Feeling a bit bad for both of your friends.
“At least crewel is giving us a second chance to get a better score than the one we have!” You tell them. Ace slowly turns his head to face you, you smiled as you ignored his eye twitch.
“Second chance? Yeah no I’m screwed” You hear a loud thud come from your side, you turn to see deuce head on the table.
“We can’t have riddle find out about this…he’ll kill us and make us clean vorpal stables…” He slurs. You sigh and set your paper down.
“I wish I had someone to tutor me…”
And like a genie, Lilia appears out of nowhere.
Seriously, he just spawned out of nowhere.
“I know the perfect person!” The three of you scream.
“What the- Lilia?!” The fae ignores Ace as he beams at you.
“Why don’t you let my son tutor you? Silver is very good at history of magic! In fact, he scored a 100 on the recent test-”
He went on a full 30 minute rant about silver’s academic achievement as you, Ace, and deuce endured it all, much to silver's horror as he quickly came in and dragged Lilia away as he apologized with a red face.
But you did come to him and nervously asked if he could tutor you! (And he obviously said yes)
-
The next attempt happened when you were in Vargas class. You and epel were busy doing your daily stretches when vargas suddenly told everyone to partner up. Since you and epel were already together, the two of you decided to pair up.
Well imagine both of your surprise when you turn to hand Epel a broom only for you to bump straight into silvers chest.
“Oof!”
You look to see a very red faced and embarrassed silver while Epel was straight up confused on how he got to the other side of the field with a giddy Lilia next to him. Epel's eyes narrowed as he looked between you and silver before turning back to look at Lilia who was next to him. Again…how in the great sevens did he end up on the other side of the field?!
“I’m partnered with Epel! You and Silver get toget- uh partner up!” Lila shouts as he clutches onto the broom in his hands.
“But I was alrea-”
“Don’t ruin this for me”
-
The attempts went on for a while. From silver being your history of magic tutor to him showing you how to ride a horse, to then teaching you about the different animals twisted wonderland had, to-
Well, you get it.
Lilia noticed how much more his son started falling for you. The both of you sit together outside for lunch now, you’re busy talking about what went on with your day while silver just sits there quietly admiring you.
Lilia feels like shedding tears and already hears the sounds of wedding bells.
But after two weeks of trying to get his son to make a move, an old man gets tired eventually.
So now here he is, standing in the common room of diasomnia as he paces back and forth.
“I tried everything already! I love to see that the two grew closer BUT! I need silver to make a move already!”
Both sebek and malleus look puzzled. The two of them looked at each other before looking back at a stressed out Lilia who was busy ranting out his thoughts.
“Um, lil-”
“Not now sebek” The poor first year couldn’t do anything but sigh as he watched the older fae mumble.
Mallues clears his throat, Lilia looks over for a second before going back to his rambling, clearly letting the younger fae know he’s listening despite his situation.
“I’m surprised you’re stressing yourself out about young silver happy love life” Lilia pauses. He turns to mallues with a confused expression.
“Happy? I do-“ He gets cut off as the door to the common room bursts open. The three of then turn around to see a very happy and giggling silver and you as the two of you walk hand and hand.
Lilia jaw drop.
“W-when did this happen?”
“A month ago”
A MONTH?!
Mallues greets you both with a welcoming smile as sebek lets out a disappointed sigh.
“I tried to tell you Lilia-sama”
A loud thud echoes through the room as you all gasp.
“Father!”
“Oh no! Lilia are you okay?!”
The old fae has passed out. But the four of you didn’t miss the big ole smile he had on his face as he mumbled about his future quote on quote, “grandbabies”.
Can you do the dorm leaders x reader who can summon a persona from the games either 3 or 5
How would the dorm leaders react if [Y/n] could summon a Persona?
Persona user! Fem!Reader x Riddle Rosehearts/Leona Kingscholar/ Azul Ashengrotto/ Kalim Al Asim/Vil Schoenheit/Idia Shroud /Malleus Draconia.
Note: [Y/n] will be used to refer to the reader. I originally posted this in Spanish, and English isn't my native language, so I'm using a translator to translate it.
Hoshi only watched a few episodes of the Persona 5 anime and barely finished the first boss gameplay with a friend who was playing it. Other than that, she doesn’t have the slightest idea about the franchise.
So I’ll base it on Persona 5 and maybe Persona 3, which I know from memes and its soundtrack.
DISTURBING THE PEACEEEEE‼️🗣️
Well, that and the collaboration they had with Overwatch…
𝑴𝒚 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕
Having to move to another city to enroll in one of central Tokyo's most prestigious universities had never really been a problem. You adapted quickly to your part-time job at the ramen shop, where the kind owner also offered you a roof over your head. Before you even realized it, you found yourself sharing your days with a black cat who revealed the power tied to your soul.
Being a Persona user had brought both misfortune and precious moments into your life. Through it, you met other students burdened with the same fate, sharing the weight of your mistakes and the consequences of every decision together.
You had lived too much.
Well... in truth, you'd been given the chance to start over after a black carriage struck you one night while you were heading to a nearby laundromat, your laundry basket overflowing with clothes that needed washing.
Arriving in Twisted Wonderland wasn't all that different from your life in Tokyo. Once again, you had a talking cat by your side—one who caused far more trouble than he ever solved; an old man—considerably less trustworthy than the last one—who gave you a damp, dust-covered room to sleep in; and, of course, a group of friends who were just as troublesome as they were dear to you, whom you met only a few days after arriving in that strange new world.
Oh, and there were the Overblots, though they never truly frightened you. After your first battle against a monster in that long-abandoned mine, you discovered that the power still remained within you—and that you could still summon it, even in a world completely different from your own.
And naturally, the dorm leader fighting beside you noticed the majestic entity rising behind your back, nearly as massive as the Phantom looming behind the Overblot you were trying to stop. Yet despite its overwhelming presence, your expression remained perfectly calm.
Riddle
♡ The crimson leader was utterly astonished. While everyone else chose to run away and hide, selfishly protecting themselves, you stood your ground before the Overblot—one notoriously taller and far more dangerous than your small frame.
♡ He had faint, blurry memories of that very same expression you wore now before the Ink Lion: your narrowed gaze fixed unwaveringly on the target you were determined to stop. You were so resolute that not even Leona's deafening roar made you flinch.
♡ With the same determination, he took his place beside you, gripping his staff tightly, ready to fight at your side.
♡ Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but notice how tightly you clutched the weapon you carried everywhere around the school under the excuse of it being for self-defense—and how your hands still trembled around the trigger. Riddle trusted that you would never hurt anyone with it.
♡ What he never expected was to see you raise it directly to your own head without the slightest hesitation after shouting, "Persona!"
♡ He barely had time to react, fear gripping him over whatever might happen next. His surprise only grew when blue flames burst forth, forcing him backward and halting his movements.
♡ His eyes lit up as an entity nearly as massive as Leona's Phantom emerged behind you, obeying every one of your commands without hesitation. He noticed how lost you seemed within yourself, yet even then, you never stopped worrying about the people around you.
♡ The moment the battle ended with you standing victorious, Riddle hurried to catch you in his arms before you could collapse to the ground. You had exhausted far too much energy, and your anxiety had consumed you beyond what your body could endure.
♡ Without a doubt, once you had fully recovered, the two of you would have a very long conversation about that "magic" you seemed to wield—and how deeply it was intertwined with your very soul.
Leona
♡ The lion had never been one to look after others. Yet, a part of himself quietly urged him to do just that. So when Azul's Overblot spiraled out of control, Leona was the one who chose to remain on the front lines and stop the prideful octopus.
♡ He never expected a mere herbivore—someone he barely knew and who was already causing him more trouble than he cared to deal with—to flatly refuse his order to leave. And while he wasn't about to turn down an extra pair of hands, what truly caught him off guard was the moment you drew the weapon that always rested at your right hip.
♡ What happened next was almost impossible to believe. Without the slightest hesitation, you raised the weapon, pulled the trigger with conviction, and shouted, "Persona!"
♡ Leona held his ground for as long as he could, keeping his eyes on you as blue flames engulfed your body, leaving only your glowing eyes visible. All he could hope was that, whatever this turned out to be, it wouldn't become a problem on the same scale as the Overblot.
♡ When he was finally able to look up, he found a grotesque-looking entity standing behind you. Despite its terrifying appearance, it seemed to acknowledge only your voice, obeying every command you gave without question as it mercilessly attacked the Overblot before it.
♡ His muscles tensed as he watched you issue each command with unwavering confidence and calm precision. You moved as though this was far from your first time doing something like this—a detail that certainly didn't escape the dorm leader's notice.
♡ Once everything had settled, Leona pulled you aside to a secluded spot so the two of you could talk about what he had just witnessed. Had you lied to them about who—or what—you really were?
♡ That was when you told him the story of your life before arriving in this world: how you had constantly fought to stop disasters caused by others, risking yourself to protect people while never expecting anything in return. Leona found himself at a loss for words. Even for someone who had grown up surrounded by magic, what you described sounded utterly unbelievable.
♡ Even so, he chose to stay by your side and help however he could. From what he had come to understand, the path you walked was one filled with danger—and he wasn't about to let you face it alone.
Azul
♡ The heart-wrenching scream that tore from your throat snapped him out of his thoughts. Azul had been so absorbed by the Overblot before him—and by the plan he was already devising—that he had barely noticed your presence behind him.
♡ The moment his eyes landed on you, he had to shield his face from the intense wave of scorching air radiating from your body. Through narrowed eyes, he watched as your school uniform transformed, changing before his very eyes while the blue flames surrounding you slowly faded away.
♡ He didn't even have the chance to speak before his pupils shrank. Without realizing it, he instinctively took a step back at the sight of the figure that had appeared behind you—an imposing entity that seemed to mirror your every movement.
♡ He remembered very little of what happened afterward; the memories were frustratingly blurred. But one thing he was absolutely certain of was that the graceful fighter before him was the very same prefect from another world.
♡ For weeks afterward, Azul couldn't get those events out of his mind, even after everyone else had stopped talking about them. As far as he understood, you didn't possess even a trace of magic. So then... how had you—
♡ After conducting an extensive investigation through methods that were... ethically questionable, yet remarkably effective, he finally decided to pay a visit to the abandoned dormitory. He had been fully prepared to strike any kind of contract if that was what it took to learn the truth behind what had happened that day.
♡ As it turned out, there was no need. The moment he arrived and asked his question, you simply invited him inside, and before he knew it, he was sitting in the dorm's lounge, quietly listening as you told him your story.
♡ He hadn't known you could speak so well with black cats, too. Though yours seemed considerably grumpier than Lucius.
Kalim
♡ Before anything else, Scarabia's sun thought only of protecting you from Jamil's Overblot—the very one he had unknowingly caused. Kalim knew you could take care of yourself, but what kind of person would he be if, once again, he let others bear the consequences of his own mistakes?
♡ Although he felt proud to hear you refuse to leave him to fight alone against the monster his right-hand man had become, worry gripped him once more as he watched you step forward to claim your place on the battlefield against the boy blinded by blot.
♡ He tried to pull you back and create some distance to keep you out of danger, but a powerful gust of wind erupted from your direction, pushing him back several feet. The force was so strong that he instinctively shielded his face and squeezed his eyes shut.
♡ When he finally opened them again, the world had been bathed in an eerie blue glow from the flames pouring out of your body. He noticed that your school uniform had changed, and that you were holding a mask tightly in your hand before slowly placing it over your face.
♡ What followed was a battle unlike anything he had ever witnessed, not even in the most fantastical movies. The entity standing behind you mirrored your every movement with unwavering precision, obeying each of your commands without the slightest hesitation. Kalim could only stare in stunned amazement, his mouth hanging open at the unbelievable sight unfolding before his eyes.
♡ And of course, once everything had finally settled down, Kalim wasted no time visiting your dorm to ask what had happened and what all of that had been. If you were Overblotting as well, then you needed to tell him as soon as possible so he could find you help before you ended up like the others.
♡ A few weeks later, when things had finally calmed down, Kalim couldn't help telling everyone just how incredible you had been in battle—while doing his best to keep your secret safe.
Vil
♡ The leader of Pomefiore had heard about your achievements against the previous Overblots that had occurred at the school, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't understand how a human with no trace of magic could possess enough strength to stand against the black blot.
♡ It wasn't until he was personally caught up in the battle against Idia that he finally realized why. You never backed down—instead, you rushed headfirst into the fight without a hint of fear.
♡ Vil didn't stop you when you hurried to fight alongside him, though his curiosity wasn't enough to let him allow you to put yourself in more danger than you could handle. His wand remained at the ready, prepared to strike the moment it became necessary.
♡ The deafening crash, accompanied by your piercing scream, was what finally made him react.
♡ You looked like something straight out of a movie scene. No special effects could ever compare to how magnificent the blue flames looked as they engulfed you.
♡ And then he understood your power when he saw the entity standing behind you. It resembled the Phantoms he had only ever read about in ancient magic books, yet it also seemed far more subdued and sorrowful than any of them.
♡ Some time later, once peace had returned, the dorm leader summoned you to the library. You found him waiting beside a small stack of books, all of them about the Phantoms of his world, eager to learn more about the being that seemed so deeply connected to you.
♡ Everything finally made sense once you explained that it was tied to your soul and the way your mind worked.
♡ So that was why your Persona seemed so melancholic...
Idia
♡ For the love of the Great Seven, you had almost given him a heart attack. Right in the middle of the battle against Malleus's Overblot, he caught you pressing a gun to your temple—one he hadn't even realized you'd been carrying beneath your uniform vest this whole time.
♡ His fingers flew across his keyboard with the same speed he used to snag limited-edition merch online, desperately trying to stop whatever you were about to do. But your movements were faster.
♡ He barely had time to react when you shouted, "Persona!" An entity that looked like the final boss of a turn-based RPG materialized behind you, standing tall without a hint of fear.
♡ The battle ended before he could even process what had just happened. By the time he'd finally started piecing everything together, the Overblot had already vanished. Once life returned to something resembling normal, he asked to speak with you in private about what seemed to be something only he had noticed—everyone else was convinced that Idia himself had somehow programmed the Phantom.
♡ Wait... seriously? Everything you were telling him was actually real? This was a goldmine. Your story could become an entire RPG franchise. Hold on a second—he needed to grab his tablet before you continued so he could write down every single idea and anecdote you had.
♡ After the biggest scare of his life had finally worn off, the explanation you gave him about how every Phantom you could summon was tied to a different facet of your psyche completely captured his attention. It felt just like one of those games where you had to collect dozens of rare and unique companions to complete the entire roster.
♡ Oh, and of course, he was absolutely fascinated when you explained how the switching system between them actually worked.
♡ ...Are you absolutely sure he couldn't have one? You know... without having to risk his life every time he tried to summon it?
Malleus
♡ The dragon had encountered countless warriors who never feared battle, each possessing the courage that a seasoned fighter needed to keep under control in order to continue fighting with honor. But you... You were merely a human who refused to run from trouble, choosing instead to face it head-on without asking anyone for help.
♡ Needless to say, you had done more than simply catch his attention—you had awakened a deep curiosity within him. You were as fragile as any magicless human, and yet you hadn't taken even a single step back when the Overblot erupted right before your eyes.
♡ From your hip, you drew a weapon. Malleus watched with quiet anticipation, waiting to see what you would do next. For the first time in a long while, the serious expression he always wore faltered when you suddenly pressed the weapon against the side of your head and shouted, "Persona!" with a strength he had never heard from you before.
♡ What followed was seeing you engulfed in flames, much like the fire that surrounded him whenever he appeared somewhere. But your flames were warm, shimmering in shades of blue as they completely enveloped you before revealing your face once more. Behind you, an imposing figure rose into view.
♡ Malleus hadn't realized that this was how human weapons worked... He would have to ask Lilia about it later.
♡ And a few days later, while recounting the incident to Lilia, he watched in confusion as the older fae let out a startled cry, his face turning pale with horror. It was then that Malleus realized this was probably not something normal after all.
♡ That very night, he appeared in the garden outside your dormitory window, still full of questions. Lilia had practically forced him to go and make sure that his Child of Man was still alive.
♡ You couldn't help but laugh at Malleus's innocence. Sometimes, his lack of understanding when it came to human matters was almost unbelievable. Even so, you patiently explained everything that had happened.
♡ He listened attentively, asking question after question whenever something confused him. By the end of your explanation, he fully understood that your Persona was deeply connected to both your mind and your soul. Though he never voiced it aloud, he had noticed that the beings who appeared alongside you carried an unmistakable air of melancholy... and, quietly, he resolved to find a way to help you bear that burden.
yan! slasher au twisted wonderland x reader. you shouldn’t have downloaded that slasher horror game from god-knows-which suspicious site. now you’re in the game, in the body of a student, in detention — you’re meant to die as the first victim, but in the light of your new predicament, you’ve got other plans for yourself.
♡ The first thing you think of when you wake up in an overly familiar detention room is why the fuck did I play that game?
♡ It’d been an innocent endeavour at first. A small pop-up in the corner of your screen vying for your fleeting attention. Final Survivor.exe? How cliché. You downloaded it. You liked it. You hoped it didn’t have a virus. That should’ve been the end of it, really, but against all odds, here you are, watching the scene replay in front of you like a doomed spectator. You now wish it did have a virus.
♡ With a tincture of relief, you realize you remember the plot clearly, the main character was Yuu, and by that definition, the final survivor — true to its name. You, on the other side, looking at your gloved hands and the splashy makeup embellishing your face, cast in the very intricately-decorated compact mirror you own, are the first victim. A victim with a name, a death that sets off a chain reaction but is unmeaning in nature - a Pomefiore member whose murder was skimmed over. But all you can think of is: why the fuck did I play that game? Sure, you were curious. Sure, you liked it. You’re a diehard horror lover, but that does not entail a luck as doomed as this, does it?
♡ Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. You’re going to die. You want to cry. You want to wail and jump out the window. You’ve lots of qualms about the dorm placement too. You? Pomefiore? You couldn’t have gotten it any worse. You and the mere mention of Pomefiore does not mix. Never has, never will. Come to think of it, had said dorm even expressed grief over the death of the first victim? There wasn’t any mention of them after their purpose was served, which is to say, their purpose: die. That’s all you’re here for. Without your death, you serve no purpose. Without your death, there is no plot. You’re going to die. That is final. Unchanging, even.
Opening your lids once more, feeling the sting of salt-born dampness that has yet to spill freely, you take a clear look at your surroundings. The brightness takes you by surprise, and your vision is spotty- but soon enough, you realize one thing.
You’re in a detention room.
Well, that was.. expected.
♡ Funny enough, you don’t understand why there’s even one here. Plot convenience, you suppose.
♡ The next thing you feel is the warmth of the sun on the bare of your skin, the one thing grounding you to this place- unspooling over you like a shroud. Furnished with rows of desks and chairs, detention fits the quintessential type you’d find in any wacky slasher movie, with motivational posters ejected out onto walls and a large grandfather clock staring all of your peers down. The window overlooks Night Raven’s verdant field below, with some students relishing in their freedom. This is supposed to be your deathbed, and as per your fate, you watch the clock’s black arcs slicing the afternoon into agonizingly slow increments.
♡ A couple of candles sputter, and your purse sits on your desk. There's a cute little lip balm in it, a bunch of cosmetics, and things you don’t even know about. Isn't that justtt peachy?
♡ It’s a visual reminder that while time is moving, it was in no hurry at all. You still have some time left. You don’t how much, you only know one thing. You don’t want to die. You can’t die. You don’t want to go out so brutally, so horribly, so hopelessly. This is not how you imagined it.
“Dude, I don’t even understand why they put me in here with these guys.” Grumbles a familiar voice. “ ‘S not like this is the first time the cafeteria’s seen a food fight.”
“You threw an entire tray at the headmage’s face.”
“That was an accident, okay? Sure, the tea may have been hot, but I seriously doubt it got past his feathers. Sue me.”
♡ Ace Trappola sits not far from you! He’s the closest, in fact. You remember why he’s in here, guilty as charged, the headmage snapped after his third food fight. He’s chatting Yuu’s ear off — you realize you have no idea as to why they’re here — (it was never expressed clearly in the game, then again, you didn’t make it past the remainder of the storyline) — with his leg propped up on his table and his arms folded behind his head. Yuu sits on that same table, from the sight alone, anyone’d know they’re quite close. It’s the same reason Ace had survived alongside Yuu.
♡ The rest are far from you, though you doubt anything could elude Rook Hunt’s ears, your Vice Housewarden. Found hiding in the rafters of another dorm. You remember when you’d died, he’d been the first to act, propping you up and taking charge just to save you a brutal end. Comforted you in his own way- though you seriously do not want to think about that right now. He’s staring out a window, typical. Speaking of typical, Azul is the farthest, having been exposed by virtue of his unauthorized business activity. He does not deign anyone a glance, resolving to write down.. something onto the pieces of paper everyone has on their desks.
♡ The loudest one is Sebek, even when he’s far away, you can hear his voice like he’s yelling into your ear.
You nearly face-palm.
♡ Ugh! When playing the game initially, you did not think of how horrible this team actually was. They were the worst match, and always managed to get caught up in deep waters, the kind whose sheer amount of stupidity you’d yell at. You were playing as Yuu then, so you didn’t fret over things like that, but the events have taken a drastic turn now, and you’re at one of the biggest disadvantages in the history of mankind... You're not playing this game from Yuu’s perspective anymore— you’re not guaranteed survival, you’re guaranteed death, and the clock’s still ticking.
♡ You mull it over for a second. How did the first victim even die? You remember this character... had taken a sip of some tea, traditional Pomefiore style, and had suffered a reaction. It hadn’t been described what type. A seizure? Something else? The staff only ascertained one truth: it had clearly been tampered with, and off they went. But who handed them the tea? No, there’s a little teacup set positioned in one of the corners, maybe having been left by its earlier residents - your character had taken the tea themselves. But if it was tampered with.. it was surely meant for the first victim. Ugh! One of the major cons of this is that you don’t know shit about this Pomefiore person, except that they’re..
♡ .. Not all that relevant? You’re going to be a goner at this rate. Miraculously enough, the first victim had survived the ordeal, but then had been subsequently murdered in the Nurse’s Office. You remember the art, a brutish display of crimson and bone-deep gashes, but flick the thought away amid the constriction of your throat. Your heart is beating, erratically, voraciously, helplessly.
A chair scrapes.
“You have remained unusually silent today.”
You blink, a slow realization creeping upon you. You stare into the eyes of your Vice Housewarden, who stares back with his signature, elusive smile. The light limns the countours of his face as he takes his seat, unsolicited, opposite you, chin perched upon his gloved hands.
“You would ordinarily have offered at least three remarks regarding their appearances by now. My, it appears you've forgotten your daily critique.” Delighted, he closes his eyes and professes. You don’t know what to do, so you gulp down the water amassing in your eyes and give him an equally watery smile. He seems surprised. “..How moving! I knew today's sunlight felt particularly transformative!”
♡ Why did he..? Oh, wait! What did he say? You’d have ordinarily offered three remarks regarding their appearance. That’s right. That’s one of your character’s innate qualities.
♡ They were mean. Not overtly so, but in the ways you could feel it. Self-conceited, two-faced, if you will. Anyone could dislike them, and anyone could want to dispose of them- it’s no surprise they died the way they died but.. this is a slasher game, isn’t it? If the first victim’s death came with the price of several others being ticked off, then it wasn’t merely a revenge kill, was it?
Whatever. You don’t why you’re worrying about this.
Your gaze drifts to the teacup set. Porcelain dotted with details of blooming flowers and muted shades of colour-- just don’t drink the damn tea, you’ll worry about the rest later! How hard can this be?
Synopsis: The Isle of Sage people did not expect to welcome an anomaly. After all, Prefect of Ramshackle is a girl who is wrapped in a lot of mystery. One of it is clearly on how she seems capable of taming the villains
The Prefect of Ramshackle isn’t someone who others will consider having a rainbow personality nor a sunshine smile.
Instead, you will be greeted with a sight of two baggy eyes, a judgemental look, and unfiltered mouth. Her appearance isn’t soft. It’s like meeting someone who screams, God Imma go apeshit, and then gulps four cups of espresso.
The first magicless female student of a prestigious institute that glorified the story of the Great Seven. That's the bigger picture shouldered by the Prefect.
And yet, she is pretty.
A pretty baddie.
No one can refute that.
But the infamous students of Night Raven College aren't people that easily fall to something shallow like that.
The news of her arrival had long been circulating on the Isle of Sages. After all, people can’t shut their mouth when something odd occurs.
Started with jokes about the chaos at the entrance ceremony, then whispers, turning into a curiosity when hearing the ghosts’ story that work in NRC about The Prefect. Later, it changet into hot gossip when some saw her in person at the Magift tournament.
No one knows where she came from. Some say she is a spy sent to target one of the students. Others say she is someone sent by the Board of Education to monitor the school. Others say she is a daughter of an influential figure, whether a wealthy merchant, an organization founder, a noble family, or even a king, who dared to enter and fulfill her wild fantasies of surrounded by many promising boys.
As time passed, the people on the Isle of Sages learned the Prefect's name.
Kokoro.
Not because she introduces herself, nor because she flaunts her status.
It is because they keep calling out to her name.
“KOKOROO I WANT THAATT!!!”
One day, it was a cat with fiery ears that ran through all the food stalls. The girl ran after it without running out of breath and paid for all the food. At the end of the walk, she pinched the cat's cheek until it stretched very wide.
“There you are, Kokoro-san. Have you already bought the supplies?”
They also often saw her shopping at the town's convenience store. Often accompanied by a pair of twin boys who were taller than most people. They had sharp teeth and a smell that seemed to come from the deepest ocean.
“Hey, Kokoro, you love me, right? Let me taste your crepes.”
Or they'd see her buying snacks and sitting near the fountain. There were two boys who seemed closer to her than the rest. Every time they came to town, they took off their blazers and entrusted it in the Prefect's hand, leaving only their red vests. The heart and spade symbols on their eyes were the trademark. They sat for a long time, sharing food and feeding each other.
“Kokoro, don't wander around.”
Sometimes she'd be seen wandering around alone, only for the town people to find someone else following her. This time, it was a man with long hair and spice-scented. He was wearing a sleeveless hoodie. His face looked troubled, like someone burdened by babysitting. But once he found the Prefect, he immediately took her hand.
People never know that Night Raven College students could create a bond. Let alone to a magicless person who is far lesser than them.
It grows more terrifying.
Because they don’t understand.
The Prefect has many strange companions. The very unique case is a small robot child and a floating tablet. Along her visit, she tended to bought something from the game store based on the tablet's instructions.
In some occasions, the town people will see her coming from above. They would see silhouettes flying across their blue sky. The one directing the broomstick was definitely the proud Second Prince of Sunset Savannah. They had often seen him on TV, especially during tournaments. His hair was tied loosely. The Prefect's eyes were fixed on the ocean, her arms around the waist of the prince, whose eyes were looking to another away.
The people on the Isle of Sages rarely heard the Prefect speak, unless necessary. But from time to time, when they heard her voice, out of her own volition– it was revealing.
“Pretty.”
“Pardon?”
Some accessory stall owners stared in awe at the figure of the famous actor Vil Scoenheit. Even with a proper disguise, including a hat, glasses, and a mask, no clothing could conceal his aura.
The Prefect held a precious stone to Vil's eyes. It was an uncut stone. Just a display at the end of a stall. Not a necklace, a ring, or any other fine jewelry.
"It's pretty like your eyes."
If one wants to swear by the name of the Great Sevens, then that was the right moment. Because the famous Vil Scoenheit, despite his years of training, looked stunned for a moment .
Another time, there was a beautiful festival on the Isle of Sages, where everyone would be releasing lanterns. The villagers felt like they were walking on thin ice when realizing the Future King of Briar of Valley was attending. Everyone stepped aside. Everyone was afraid because they hadn't prepared a feast worthy of the high-ranking Fae. Nor they prepared a lantern for him
But the Perfect, who managed to get the last lantern tugged on his sleeves, making Malleus Draconia's attention diverted to her.
She brings the lantern to him.
“Together?”
And like she has a hidden magic, the features of the future king grow relaxing in front of her. That night, people swore all the stars in the galaxy were clearly visible because of the clear weather.
Again.
The Perfect of Ramshackle liked to wander alone. She would sometimes sit on the shoreline, or anywhere overlooking the beach, with a look that said she shouldn't be there. But it wouldn't last long. Because every silence would be broken. Sometimes a tap on her shoulder, sometimes another figure joining her, or sometimes a jacket or shirt thrown over her head to shield her from the cold wind.
Then, those students—always different each time—would lead the Prefect back to Night Raven College. Up on the hill, the building felt haunting, as if declaring its claim to the magicless Perfect.
The people of the Isle of Sages don't understand.
Of course they don't.
But they were also sure the Perfect shared the same sentiment with them.
It's not like she smiles at them.
It's not like she uses sugary words to boast about their ego.
Heck, no.
The Prefect—again—has an unfiltered mouth.
“Scram or a high-five to the face with this chair. Choose,” said the Prefect to the town delinquents who kept picking a fight with NRC students.
“Grim, if I enter your mama mode, Boy, you better start praying,” said the Prefect to her companion.
“Go back then study. Keep playing, and next week we'll hold a funeral for your degree,” said the Perfect while dragging the ace and spade duo.
But even in that interaction, somehow the Prefect only grew closer to them. She never noticed the eyes watching her path, didn't notice the hands that reached out a little tighter, didn't notice every gaze that changed because of her words and behavior. It was so subtle, cleverly masked, and no one dared to describe it.
But it existed. Who knows since when. Whether it was permitted or not. Actually, maybe no one knows the real reason.
The magicless Prefect fit right into their place, their territory—their heart.
Kokoro.
It is an otherworldly name. But for them it's sweet, it's addictive.
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