Unfortunately Biased

She/her, 20s calif 🌞 Pan baby ✌🏼love my fiancé This is a main account, my sides are obeime, botwildtimes, and starveyballey Technically multi-fandom, but I fear I am currently stuck on Twisted Wonderland

[hxney-lemcn]

Accidental Confessions — Third Years Edition

summary: your hidden feelings come to light as you accidentally text the wrong person

note: I found a more current looking website. lowkey having fun with this hehe

Master List | RSA | Third Years

Trey Clover

Cater Diamond

Leona Kingscholar

Vil Schoenheit

Rook Hunt

Idia Shroud

Malleus Draconia

Lilia Vanrouge

[mika-the-xd]

𝄞𝄢𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝙄𝙉 𝙈𝙔 𝙇𝘼𝙎𝙏 𝘼𝘾𝙏 𝙊𝙁 𝙇𝙊𝙑𝙀...୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

╰┈➤ .☘︎ ݁˖ 𝘐𝘕 𝘞𝘏𝘐𝘊𝘏.. He says something that he wouldn't normally say to other people, but you're not like other people, you are you. You're his best friend, his soulmate, his love. So while in a moment of vulnerability, he reveals something he normally wouldn't do voluntarily. He spills his love for you.

ᛝ 𝙏𝘼𝙂𝙎... Implied! Best friends to lovers, soft! Character, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, oblivious! Reader, non! Yuu reader, mentions of violence, down bad! Character, bittersweet endings? Idk they don't really become lovers, mentions of suicide (Jack)

ᛝ 𝘼𝙐𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍𝙎 𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀... Uhhhh I didn't mean to make Jack'a part angsty but uhmmmmmmm your welcome???? I promise it's gonna have a happy ending 🥺 anywayssss to be honest I thought this was just gonna turn into a small thought oneshot— BUT the brain worms have overtaken and I was thinking about these scenarios with the other cast and AUGHH it's so juicy, I just love talking about love 🥹

ᛝ 𝙎𝘼𝙑𝘼𝙉𝘼𝘾𝙇𝘼𝙒 𝙓 𝙂𝙀𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍 𝙉𝙀𝙐𝙏𝙍𝘼𝙇! 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘣𝘺𝘶𝘭 𝘷𝘦𝘳.

⋮ ⌗ ┆𝗝𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗛𝗢𝗪𝗟

"𝑰 𝑾𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼"

Jack Howl is as loyal as a wolf— because he is one.

He's strong, dependable, and has a similar moral compass as a judge. If you want a healthy friendship that encourages you to be better? Be friends with Jack or people similar to Jack, if you want a friend that wouldn't back down for your honor? Be friends with Jack, if you want a friend you can trust with your whole life? Be friends with Jack.

However, no matter how much of a good friend he is, he's a tsundere, a big fat tsundere.

When you first met him, he was full of scowls and growls, he didn't entertain your friendly actions at all. He kept on pushing you away with a "I'm a lone wolf" type of saying— although he didn't say it, there was implications. And y'know what? You kept on pushing, kept on showing up for him whenever and wherever, until he got fed up and just... Accepted you, he let his guard down and started to trust you back. And ever since then, he didn't look back.

You hoped he still held that sentiment.

As you stared at your reflection at the mirror with a bottle of pills in your hand, tears started to stream down your face.

At this point of your life, you were at your lowest low, at this point of your journey, you were at the bottomless pit you fell down to. At this point, you started to clutch at the thought of...

Jack was panicking, and he was panicking hard.

He knew that you were mentally unstable, he knew that you were not that well, and he knew, that you couldn't be left alone and need someone to check up on you for the sake of your life.

So his text messages went from "hey, are you coming to school?" To "stay there, I'm coming" in the matter of minutes.

He knocked frantically at your bathroom door— How'd he knew that you were in there? Because it would not take a genius to know that if you weren't in your bedroom, you'd be in your bathroom, possibly... No, he needs to stop it. And fast.

He clenched his fists as he banged on the door. He called out your name.

"Can you please" he rested his forehead on your door "open the door for me?" It came out as a soft plea as he tried to contain his shaky breath.

That snapped you out of your state. The whole time you clutched the bottle of pills, you were disassociating hard, trying to pick a side— and Jack was the one to stop you. Jack, your loyal friend. The friend you trust with your life, but had second thoughts on whether he'd stay for you or not.

"Please-" he uttered your name as another plea "y'know that 𝑰 𝑾𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝒀 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼"

The door opened with a click.

Jack rushed in and saw your figure at the door with an empty face, and with tear streaks on your eyes. His breath evened out as he relaxed— you were okay... And you were holding a pill bottle. He bit his lip and hugged you, fiercely tight.

That seemed to snap you out of your daze and you sobbed in his chest, hiccuping and saying sorry between your breaths.

He rubbed your back as you slowly started to calm down, and when you did? He buried he head in your hair while not saying anything. Knowing that saying nothing means a whole lot to you than saying empty words.

"You stayed" you said after crying your eyes out and finally... Finally relaxing. You smiled, "I'm glad"

He let out a shaky breath. Dear sevens, you scared the shit out of him

"Of course I would, I'll always stay for you"

⋮ ⌗ ┆𝗥𝗨𝗚𝗚𝗜𝗘 𝗕𝗨𝗖𝗖𝗛𝗜

"𝑰 𝑾𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑩𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼"

Ruggie Bucchi is a well known thief in your school.

However, he's also a well known friend of yours— the person who goes out of their way to help people, the person that lends their pencil to a classmate if they ask, the person that's so selfless, you might as well hold a charity center.

That's Ruggie's friend, you.

Everyone is surprised that you didn't break off your friendship with him because of his sticky fingers, everyone is surprised that you put up with his mischievous antics all the time, hell! They're even surprised that you were friends with him in the first place!

But they didn't dare question it or approach you to ask you, since... It's Ruggie, the same Ruggie that Leona trusted. And they wouldn't dare pick a fight with Leona.

All they could do is watch as he sits next to you at lunch and steal some of the food in your plate.

They didn't know that Ruggie would also give you some his too. Because they don't know him.

"Shishishi, ya' should really guard your food better y'know?" He nugged you as you raised your eyebrows. "Some folks got really sticky fingers" you giggled and pointed your fork at him. "You mean you?" He chuckled and raised his arms in defense "aye! Can't have ya' get too comfortable with me" you shook your head with a slight chuckle and continued to eat.

It's weird to see him scold you for not being selfish enough when he would switch up later and give you some of his food.

Your eyes softened slightly as he nugged you to take a bite of his donut, "I haven't seen ya' eat since last lunch, eat" he said sternly with an expression that said 'try to deny it and I swear I'll shove this donut up your mouth'

You tried to say something, to deny it and dismiss his claims, but he just shoved it in your hands.

A moment of silence passed you two as you stared at the donut, and inevitably bit on it.

He relaxed when he saw that you finally ate something, and he scooted closer to you then melted on your side as you quietly ate beside him.

"Y'know..." You broke the silence.

"I never thought you'd share your food with me" you said while eating. He stared at you with a raised eyebrow, "and why'd ya' think I wouldn't?" You shrugged "I don't know, maybe because you're crazy possessive with your food?" You teased. He rolled his eyes with a smile "shishishishi you're so stupid ya' know?" He teased.

"You're my friend, so of course 𝑰 𝑾𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑩𝑬 𝑺𝑬𝑳𝑭𝑳𝑬𝑺𝑺 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼"

You froze when you heard him say that, your food mid-air as you slowly turned to him with a bewildered expression. "Huh???"

He looked at your flustered face then bursted out laughing.

"Oh sevens! I can't believe you're this dense!"

⋮ ⌗ ┆𝗟𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗔 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗖𝗛𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗥

"𝑰 𝑾𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑷𝑼𝑻 𝑬𝑭𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑻 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼"

Leona Kingscholar is a smartass and you knew it.

Although he's lazy and unproductive at times. You couldn't deny that he can be intelligent and smart at times, and even though you have to observe him to conclude that, he didn't even try to hide it at times though.

Like right now.

As you layed beside him with your study material scattered on your side— careful not to disturb Leona as he napped on the opposite side.

Now why would you study next to a sleeping lion? You might be wondering.

Well that's because you're kind of lonely and only had him to keep you company, which is already a big disadvantage because he also keeps to himself— good thing you two are good friends am I right?

Anyways.

There's also a good reason to this. And that's because he offers good insight when he's in the mood. A.k.a: when he wakes up from his nap.

You groaned, 'I really wish he'd wake up right now and help meeee' you sulked— this particular question is really getting to you. And the silence was getting to you, you just wished that someone could save you from this and-

"Oi, why are you still here?" Leona said, his voice kind of gruff after just waking up from a nap.

You perked up and snapped your head to face him.

"And why is there a big mess in your side?" He said with a tired sigh as his tail flicked in annoyance. "Oh you know... Studying" he moved slightly to you and huffed, "yeah I know that"

"Just didn't think you'd stay beside me until I woke up" he grumbled.

You smiled and squeezed his cheeks, "aw, you big baby, of course I'll stay!" You chuckled as he swatted your hand away lightly. "Besides..." You dragged out your voice "you're the only one who can help me with this without passing out from how difficult I can be" you said with a pout. He sighed.

He knew where this was going.

"I'm about to pass out right now if you don't shut up..." He mumbled. You giggled. "You love me too much for that"

He groaned "Shut up and come here" you beamed at that and smiled.

Turns out. That went on for too long and it was already turning dark. Now that wouldn't have dragged on long but his persistent nature to help you got the best of him.

Which concluded in him walking you to your dorm, hand in hand, with your bag in the other.

You leaned in his forearm as you two walked side by side. "I honestly don't know why you put up with me sometimes" you pursed your lips "I mean... I'm too much trouble for your lazy ass" you smiled weakly. Then you felt it. Him tensing up. You fell silent.

"Tch. I didn't think you'd be this stupid" he said with a scoff. "I put up with you because I care" he tightened his grip on your hand as you two continued to walk down the path, "you're the only one that I decided that yeah" he paused "𝑰 𝑾𝑶𝑼𝑳𝑫 𝑷𝑼𝑻 𝑬𝑭𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑻 𝑭𝑶𝑹 𝒀𝑶𝑼" you looked up at him, as he continued to stare up ahead the path "and only for you"

You smiled softly at that.

"You've gone soft Leona" you then giggled quietly "careful. I might think you love me or something" to which he replied with a pinch on your wrist, you yelped.

He'd rather lose a match with Malleus than say that he loves you— but if you look closely, you might see a little smile on his lips.

𝗔/𝗻: ANOTHER PART DOONNNEEEE 🗣️🗣️ my ass is on a roll BUT WHO CARES?? I'm actually just trying to skip to Idia's part of this oneshot series (?) cuz I love idia 👀👀 ANYWAYSSSS tumblr has been crashing out lately 😭 I was trying to upload this FIVE TIMES AND IT STILL WON'T WORK— this is the last attempt cuz I'm so fuckin fed up ong 🫩

[hxney-lemcn]

Wait, You Like Me?!

summary: you had your struggles with understanding social cues, which the overblot boys challenge further as a sudden revelation brings to light their adoration of you.

pairings: overblots x gn! reader

cw: none that I can think of?

note: so this is based off of how I suck at reading social cues sometimes and I thought it would be cute to see how that would work with emotionally constipated characters 💀

wc: 4.5k (~600 words per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

This was a nightmare for any Heartslabyul student. You, who had trouble with social cues, taking jokes too seriously and sarcasm sometimes flying over your head, vs Riddle Rosehearts who was in vehement denial of his feelings for you. It was like watching a terrible rom com for everyone around you two. When Riddle blushed around you, you chalked it up to him being nervous (he was trying to better himself, so being nervous about taking new actions only made sense). When Riddle felt his heart pounding whenever you were around, he swept it as nerves being around a friend without feeling the need to control everything. In fact, you both were so bad, everyone gave up on their initial bet, as they started to believe neither of you would catch on. It wasn’t until nudges from your friends finally opened your eyes to the others behavior. 

“Riddle always goes easy on you, it’s not fair,” Ace would whine, falling backwards on your couch. 

“No he doesn’t?” You frown, crossing your arms as you recalled the many lectures you have received from the red headed housewarden. 

“When was the last time he beheaded you?” Deuce asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m magicless,” You raise an eyebrow. “It would have no effect, so does it really matter?”

“But it’s uncomfortable,” Ace points out, jabbing a finger at your chest as the duo try to break through your inability to connect to seemingly simple dots. “You think he’d still gain some satisfaction from that.”

You open your mouth to further plead your case, but you find yourself pausing, internally agreeing with Ace (not that you’d tell him that). The last time you had been beheaded was around the overblot, and since then it was just scoldings and lectures. 

“And when your tie is crooked, he fixes it for you,” Deuce chimes in.

“And when your hair is messy, he smooths it out,” Ace tags along.

A dawning look of realization flashes across your face, and the duo eat it up. Finally, FINALLY you seem to notice that it does seem a bit unusual, that he’s not being his usual intense self, nor does he dote on anyone else like that.

A similar situation goes on with Riddle, Trey and Cater pointing out Riddle’s affection for you, but in more subtle ways.

“You really care for them,” Trey hums, mindlessly finishing his homework. 

Riddle pauses his talk of how his day was, unknowingly rambling about you, and how you shaped it. His face flushes, but he does not reprimand his friend (progress), instead he contemplates the meaning. 

“Haha, totes,” Cater agrees, focusing more on his phone than the homework on his table. “It’s cute how you both are so oblivious to each other.”

Riddle feels his blood pressure rising, and he’s unsure if it’s because they are talking to him so casually about his feelings that he totally doesn’t have, or if it’s because he’s flustered at how they nailed it right on the head.

“Don’t be presumptuous,” Riddle huffs, double checking his homework to make sure it’s all accounted for and correct. “We are good friends, nothing more and nothing less.”

“You double check their bag to make sure they have all their supplies accounted for,” Trey mumbles mindlessly.

“And you don’t hesitate to give them something if they need it,” Cater points out.

Riddle’s face was bright as a tomato as he clears his throats and excuses himself to his room.

While everyone thinks they finally won, that the torment would finally end, and you both will realize each other's feelings and mushy happiness ensues…it only got worse. Every interaction becomes a guessing game of what the other’s intentions are while trying to balance your own emotions, and the Heartslabyul students continue to suffer.

❥ Leona Kingscholar

Oh boy, if Riddle and you are a nightmare for everyone around you, then Leona is your own personal nightmare. Every insult you took to heart, every swipe of his tail left you feeling like you did something wrong, and it got to the point that you tried to avoid the lion beastman altogether. You couldn’t annoy him if you weren’t around, right? Wrong. In fact, Ruggie had seeked you out because the prince was in a foul mood, and Ruggie swore it was due to your absence. You really couldn’t wrap your head around the hyena’s logic, as Leona had been nothing but indifferent, if not displeased when you were around. 

“He’s always like that,” Ruggie waved you off, dragging you to the botanical gardens where the prince laid. You swore he was lying though, as Leona’s tail swished, ear twitching as you approached, and you felt way too overwhelmed. There was no way he wanted you nearby, you just couldn’t wrap your head around how he possibly likes your presence in any way possible. ‘He’s bad at showing affection’ Your inner Ruggie chimed, but you stood tensely anyways, unsure if you should stay or leave. 

“What are you doing?” Leona grumbled, one green eye opening lazily. You felt his stare penetrate into your soul, you swore he was glaring you down for intruding in his space. 

“S-sorry,” You nervously mumble, hand fidgeting with the hem of your sleeves. “Ruggie dragged me in here saying you wanted…company? But clearly he was wrong, sorry again.” You decided to try and bolt, hoping the apology would satisfy the lion enough to distract him from your escape, only for a hand to grab your ankle. 

Your heart beat erratically in your chest, head spinning as adrenaline fills your veins. You felt like you had just stepped into a horror movie called social anxiety and terrible life decisions (though being transported to some weird world was not your decision). Leona’s claws briefly imprinted on your skin as he dragged you closer, nearly causing you to fall.

“Shut up,” He tsked, hand not letting you go (like he knew you were two seconds away from running for dear life). “C’mere, ‘m tired and I don’t wanna deal with this right now.”

You blinked, unsure where exactly he wanted you to go, body tense with stress and uncertainty, head swiveling, like you’d surely find an escape somewhere. Instead of escape, perhaps hiding in your dorm room for the rest of the day to try and recuperate from this intense and scary experience, Leona seemed to have enough of your ‘obliviousness’, reached up, grabbed your shirt, and quite literally drag your standing frame to fall onto his which was laying on the ground. You nearly screamed as you careened towards his chest, your breath nearly leaving your lungs as the lion cushioned your fall, arms wrapping around your back as he closed his eyes. 

You did not relax, if anything, your body turned into stone, holding your breath as you wondered who you pissed off in your past life to deal with this. You must’ve killed someone quite important. 

“Relax,” Leona sighed, his warm breath caressing your ear. “‘M not gonna bite…unless you want me to.” You did not relax for several more minutes, not until his breathing evened out and you were sure he was unconscious. You laid there, bones feeling like jelly as the adrenaline wore off, mind reeling with what the hell was currently happening.

Leona’s mixed signals were quite literally your worst enemy in a world of magic, constant overblots, and a neglectful headmaster. You were never sure if the lion hated your guts, or if he secretly liked you? Leona hated how you couldn’t decipher his near impossible signs, wishing you could read his mind, not wanting to ruin his ‘image’ in front of his dorm members. The only one having any hoot or holler would be Ruggie as you both awkwardly navigated around the other. Ironically, you both did fill the role of predator and prey perfectly.

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

Ohhhhhhh boy. Azul absolutely has a hate love relationship with your inability to pick up on certain social cues. Some moments, you could read the room well, tell when someone was upset, or sad, or even so happy they were crying, other moments he wanted to slam his head against the wall as you took all his words to heart, even if he was trying to flirt or make a stupid joke. The twins made the situation ten times worse as they liked to mess with you.

“Azul mentioned that he’s quite tired today,” Jade would hum innocently, fixing you a drink at the bar.

“Oh, did something happen?” You would ask, falling straight for the bait Jade laid out perfectly.

“You could say so,” Jade’s grin widened, mischief and amusement swirling in his gaze. “Said you kept him up all night.”

Your brows furrow, unsure what the eel meant. You hadn’t texted (especially not called) anyone last night, too exhausted with all the socializing you had been doing and had some unwind time. So you’re not sure what you had done to keep the merman up the previous night.

“Did I do something?” You asked, genuinely concerned if you had made a mistake. Perhaps you had done something offensive in their culture? Or insulted him unknowingly? (You weren’t proud to admit that you had done that before). 

Instead of being helpful, kind, or friendly (things Jade were not known for), he merely shrugged, pushing you a drink and moving on to the next customer, an extra shine of glee in his eyes at your misery. 

Floyd wasn’t much better. 

“Can you both just get together already?” Floyd whined, slumping in his seat across from you as you tried to focus on homework. Of course he ruined that.

“What?” You questioned, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“You and Azul, duh,” He rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing. You merely blinked, trying to connect whatever dots that Floyd just created.

“Why would we be together?” You ask, dropping your pencil, completely forgetting the frustrating work that was assigned (it’s not like you had the context to answer it anyways). “You mean like dating?”

“DUH,” He groaned, like this was physically paining him. “What else? You both clearly like each other, just kiss and get over it already.” It felt like your face was on fire as you tried to process whatever the hell he was spewing.

It honestly left you confused. You thought Azul was just being nice, a friend trying to make up for his transgressions against you and your friends (and sometimes you questioned his intentions as he had conned you before). Sure, sometimes he would say something that would fluster you, a compliment here, a light touch to your shoulder there (even you knew that was out of character for the reserved business man), but the twins had opened your mind to a whole other venture you hadn’t even thought about.

Azul noticed a change, not obvious, but you seemed to finally be taking in his advances. Your eyes would widen, like the dots were finally appearing in your head, sometimes it even seemed like you were looking at him in a new light altogether (cus you kind of were…). His fond frustration melted into excitement. Finally, what felt like stagnation started to gain traction, and it even emboldened him to up his moves, to make sure you couldn’t question his intentions. After all, if you struggled understanding what his gestures meant, then that meant he had to make sure that his intentions were obvious (maybe just communicate your feelings properly…).

❥ Jamil Viper

Hahaha…so Jamil is kind of the embodiment of subtle care, especially when he refuses to acknowledge his own feelings. At first it’s in ways you don’t notice. How his eyes trail after you, making sure you’re okay. The way he eyes your meals, always cataloging how unhealthy they are, noting how you shiver during a chilly day only in a short sleeve shirt, or how you always seem exhausted even if you got a full night's sleep (which can be rare with the aduo around). 

Jamil tries to shove these mental notes to the side. It’s not like he has the time to take care of anyone else with Kalim running around, you are your own person after all. Yet he strangely found himself with an extra portion of the lunch he prepared, shoving it towards you without thought (too much thought actually), or how he shrugs of his sweater (his safe space really), and tosses it towards you as the chill seeps into him instead, or how he picks up any slack, talking to your friends when you couldn’t keep up, or walking you to your dorm early as he makes up excuses to get you in the comfort of your own place. 

At first you didn’t notice, thinking he was being kind, or perhaps even feeling forced to because Kalim asked him to, but that changed when he excused you from Kalim’s party. The people surrounding you had you feeling like a zombie as you tried to hide in a corner, eating some snacks as you held a drink, hoping the walls would encapsulate you. Kalim had begged you to come, which was why you were there, but it ended up just like you expected. Jamil noticed, as he always does, and offered to walk you back to your dorm, a routine you started to expect. Of course, Kalim had blocked your escape, a pout with big watery eyes tugging on your heartstrings. Before you could give in, zone out for another hour and ponder why you hate yourself, Jamil cut in.

“The prefect is tired,” Jamil points out, and you wonder if it’s that obvious. 

After this moment, you began to notice the subtleties. Perhaps not all at once, but even you couldn’t deny how Jamil didn’t treat anyone else the way he treated you. You weren’t sure if it was anything beyond friendly, but you noticed that he seemed to care for you in a way that he didn’t for anyone else, and it was something you cherished. In fact, you both fell into a weirdly domestic relationship that never dared to press against the walls of friendship…that was until Jamil himself slipped up (something he never does, mind you…he is quite whipped). 

“You’re way too kind to me,” You couldn’t help but grumble as you accepted the week's worth of breakfast and dinners Jamil had prepared for you (you were quite bad at making those). 

“It’s nothing,” The vice-housewarden waved off, a faint blush coating his tan cheeks. 

“Seriously,” You don’t drop it, too moved by his kindness towards you. “No one has ever done anything like this for me before, you always make sure to make meals with textures I like, altering things to avoid foods I don’t like, and not to mention how you portion them to my exact liking! I feel like I don’t do enough to make up for all the work you put into me.”

Jamil’s brows furrowed, both bashful at your acknowledgement of his work, while also upset at your self admonishment.

“You don’t have to do anything,” Jamil shakes his head. “I do it because I want to. Trust me, I’d go crazy if I didn’t do this, who knows what you’d be eating otherwise.”

Your heart stuttered at his admission, the revelation of how deep his care ran for you striking you somewhere soft and gooey. It was only then when the question of whether Jamil liked you romantically dared to breach your brain.

❥ Vil Schoenheit

Vil wasn’t one to coddle anyone, not that you needed coddling, but this meant that his standoffish attitude would not be diluted. Vil isn’t nearly as bad as Leona, but his actions still managed to confuse you. You thought he wanted nothing to do with you, a notion you could understand. You could be reserved most times, quiet, almost like a shadow. The complete opposite of glitz and glam that was Vil Schoenheit…yet that seems to pull him in all the more. He would critique your uniform, comment on how it was too big in some place, yet somehow too small in others. In fact, you thought he was lowkey bullying you at first, always picking you apart, making you feel small and unwanted…only to piece you back together.

He’d personally tailor your uniform, grumbling about how ‘you can’t trust anyone to do things right these days’. He’d fix your hairstyle, explaining how the few trims, or complete makeover fits your face better, how the framing of a few pieces can make or break your beauty. Beneath the harshness, you learned to decipher that this was his way of caring (even if it could be quite shitty sometimes). And to say Vil didn’t notice how his comments hit you would be an insult to his social training. Of course he noticed the way you seemed to shut down after a particularly harsh comment from him, which made him shift tactics.

Instead of scolding you, or pointing out something he deemed atrocious, he merely fixed it instead, and you let him. You didn’t have time to get dressed properly? It’s fine, he’s fixing the wrinkles and crookedness for you. You didn’t style your hair properly? There’s a few minutes to spare before class, he’s dragging you to the nearest mirror as he styles it himself. You didn’t pack a proper lunch? Don’t worry, prefect, he happened to bring extra. 

At first you’re not sure how to take in the change. You feel like it’s some elaborate prank show, the cameras hiding in the corners (there aren’t any, but Rook sure is). Yet the longer this behavior goes on, you learn to accept it, and you even like it (which you find oddly strange yourself). You hadn’t been cared for like this before, and especially not in this world, so you found yourself eating up the affection.

“The love that blooms between Roi du Poison and Trickster is magnifique!” Rook bellows, hand clutched over his heart as he dramatically swoons. 

You had grown used to his exclamations of passion and love, so you simply deadpan at the hunter.

“What are you even talking about?” You question, face scrunching at his claims. 

It was quite comical actually, as Vil was currently applying a brand new lotion he had helped create himself to your arms, and you had the audacity to be confused (I would be too though so I can’t rag on the reader too much). 

“Ignore him,” Vil mumbles, focused intensely on how your skin was much softer with his care and how he was going to keep it that way. “He likes to spout nonsense all the time.” “But is it nonsense when the Queen deems the Trickster important enough to care for himself?” Rook asks, head tilting as his grin widens. “I have not seen you spoil anyone so, Roi du Poison.”

Vil’s face flattens, his usual humoring of Rook evaporating quickly (he didn’t want to be ratted out like this). Yet it was too late, as your mouth opened in recognition of Rook’s words. He had a point, you had seen Epel get scolded mercilessly and then forced into punishment many times by Vil, yet if you do something similar, you get a light slap on the wrist before he drags you along, your punishment usually pertaining him taking care of you in one way or another. You weren’t sure why it didn’t click before, but now you couldn’t help but second guess all of Vil’s intentions, and what that means for your future.

❥ Idia Shroud

Idia was…hard to get to know. You tried being friendly, yet he would shut you out. You tried to invite him out, but he would deflect. You tried parallel play, yet you couldn’t help but notice how he glanced at you like you were a starved tiger and he was the closest meal available. Bummed that you weren’t getting anywhere, you also didn’t want to make the blue-flammed hair man uncomfortable, which meant leaving him alone. It saddened you, but you knew you couldn’t make friends with everyone.

Little did you know, you had it completely backwards. Idia was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. You were similar to him in a way, which made him rethink his entire life. You tended to be quiet, speaking when you were spoken to and falling into the shadows, yet you weren’t like him at all. You had friends, you smiled and talked freely about topics you were passionate about, and even stood up when needed. 

Yet, worst of all…you were terrible at some social cues. He even found it amusing at times, cackling when you took a joke at face value or when you looked confused when someone said something sarcastically, only to get it a few seconds too late. You didn’t know this, of course. He rarely left his room, and he found himself stalking Grim more often than he could count, which meant you were there too. 

If it were up to him, you would never know, and things would stay exactly as they were. Him in his room alone and you none the wiser to his stalking, yearning, observations. Of course, his dear little brother would never leave it at that, taking in his brother’s infatuation, liking towards you. Which leads to a various amount of goofy, yet terrifying situations. Such as Ortho inviting you to his room without him knowing, and making the most unsevenly sound ever when he got jumpscared by you. Or how he almost bolted the second he saw you at the board game’s club, only for Ortho to block his exit (he nearly jumped out the window at your smile). 

And gosh, he couldn’t get over how oblivious you could be sometimes, your comments making him feel like a warm, gooey mess, and you were completely unaffected! It really wasn’t fair. You made it look so easy, and he wishes he could complement you as easily (little did he know, you struggled with it as well, you were just better at hiding it). 

“You have really cool hair,” You compliment, eyes wide with wonder. 

Idia could only stare, hair tinting pink along with his pale cheeks as he internally shut down. 

“Sorry, was that weird?” You ask as Idia continues to stare at you with the blankest eyes known to man, causing you to second guess yourself. Was that weird of you to say? Perhaps you weren’t supposed to mention his hair at all? Did you make him self conscious?

“N-not at all,” Was all he could stutter, eyes averting to anything but you.

It wasn’t until Idia started to text you that you realized you had things backwards. Sure, in person you both were awkward and unsure, perpetually questioning all your actions, while online things flowed more smoothly. Sure, you would take a few minutes, up to a few hours to respond, but Idia was busy with his games anyways, so he didn’t mind (sometimes he did, but he would do the same thing so he understood). He also talked more freely, rambling about his passions and eager for your approval. It wasn’t till one fatal text, that you realized he may have liked you more than just a friend.

Ugh, you can’t be srs Ur lit too cute for this world

He deleted it as quickly as he sent it, but it was too late. You were already spiraling.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Ha. Hahahahaha. So, take the ‘you don’t know you’re betrothed’ trope, and multiply it by 10. Jk…kinda. So in reality, you both are kind of bad at social cues. It’s mutual. You both are quite slow to unravel any feelings. In fact, you both bond at how similar your social experiences are. Both used to people tuning out your passionate rants about the topics you loved, so you learned to keep it to yourself (until you met each other). Or how you both can be awkward in social situations, unsure what to say at certain moments and look towards the other for reassurance. 

In fact, this was what caused Malleus to cherish you so. Not only were you patient and understanding, but you understood, to a certain degree. It caused the dragon to latch onto you, wishing to show you his gratitude for your friendship. You were in a similar boat. If you were exhausted from existing in the world, you knew Malleus would bring you somewhere quiet, somewhere no one could reach you if you did not wish. He would do things for you that you weren’t used to, and cared for you in ways that warmed you. After feeling alienated, Malleus was a person who showed you you weren’t alone. 

Due to it being a relationship you both feared to lose, neither of you thought of anything more. Why should you question something that worked so well? Something that neither of you had to think twice about? Something that came as easily as breathing? 

“Another gift?” Lilia chimes, hanging in front of Malleus upside down, amused grin tugging on his lips. 

“They mentioned wanting this,” Malleus replies, like the thought of you wanting something was irrevocably wrong, and he himself will fix it. 

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re courting them,” The bat fae hummed, eyes crinkling with joy. Malleus blinked, brain working overtime, because Lilia had a point. Malleus’ love for you was as deep as a never ending void, he would do anything in his power to make you happy, and all he wanted in return was your smile aimed towards him (though he also finds your bashfulness adorable). 

It was then that Malleus went from friendship mode, to courting mode. You, on the other hand, were completely unaware. I mean why should you have thought differently? He treated you no differently than before, it was only his intentions that switched. Of course, this only amused Lilia all the more, after all, who doesn’t love to watch young love bloom? (Sebek)

“At this rate, you’re gonna become fae royalty,” Ace grumbles, eyeing yet another gift that appeared in your dorm. 

“How in the world would I do that?” You asked, genuinely confused. Malleus was one of your closest friends, sure, but in order to become royalty that would mean marrying him, and you doubt the dragon fae saw you in such a light.

“You’re basically drowning in jewels!” Ace exclaims, pointing out the jewelry that adorned you. Your face flushes at the implication, and the creeping dread of the possibility of Ace having a point.

“Mal said he had extra…” Even your defence sounds pathetic. 

“You even have nicknames for each other,” Deuce points out.

“I have nicknames for you too,” You glare. “Dumb and dumber.”

Your deflection does nothing as the two continue to tease you relentlessly for how unaware you were about something so ‘obvious’ (it really wasn’t but okay). The next time Malleus treats you to something, whether it be a fancy dish catered to your liking, an outing you mentioned you wanted to do, or another ‘small’ gift he just stumbled upon, you can’t help but notice the hearts in his eyes as he awaits your reaction, and it’s only then do you realize you’re doomed.

[shwarbage]

the elephant in the room ! - leona kingscholar

synopsis: It was your birthday, and so it was only natural that Kalim threw you the biggest party of your life. Things get hectic and you end up leaving to get some fresh air. Leona is right behind you—to give you your gift of course!

tags: gn! reader, fluff, presents and birthday shenanigans, fluff, kissing, sfw

wc: 3.3k

a/n: wrote this a while ago on my birthday & thought i'd share!

It was your birthday, and so it was only natural that Kalim threw you the biggest party of your life.

Between the acapella performance of several exotic birds that cost thrice over a single kidney and the tables and tables of delicious food and dessert in every direction, you couldn’t possibly fathom how Kalim’s parties could get more extravagant until you were told by a disheveled Jamil that you hadn’t even seen the worst of it. He had cited the Asim family’s tiger’s birthday party last year, held at their estate, and shivered unconsciously as he mentioned it, as though the mere memory itself sent a sour taste running through his veins.

Jamil had wrangled the birds from their cages and was conducting them in an effortless fashion to perform a rendition of the classic Happy Birthday song with what feels like the entirety of Night Raven College singing along. You could pick out most of your classmates' voices if you focused. 

Riddle and Vil were difficult to hear since they were precisely on key, unsurprisingly. Deuce and Ace seemed to be in silent competition over whose voice was better, each growing louder and louder with each verse. Epel, deciding it was safer not to be the tie-breaker, chose to focus on not slipping back into his country accent as he sang. They sang a different version of the song back home and he was trying his best to avoid mistakes, lest Vil take notice.

Grim’s lyrics were muffled as he was already helping himself to one of the cakes on the side (there were several, of course) with Trey half-singing to you and half-reprimanding Grim on eating before you had even cut the first slice of the main cake.

(Not to mention the song hadn’t even concluded.)

Ruggie was helping himself to fifths and had a jovial skip to his step between each of the buffet tables as he, too, sang to you. Jamil had spent at least twenty-four hours alone preparing the food and Ruggie was not about to let a single morsel go to waste.

Jack shoved a whole tissue box in Rook’s direction, his tail beating back and forth behind him. Rook had taken the box from him without taking his eyes off of you and belted the lyrics straight into the tissue he was using to blow his nose. Birthdays are rather special after all; you only turn every age once, and the next one always comes sooner than you think.

The flash of Cater and Ortho’s cameras were directed towards you. One for pictures and the other for a video to capture every moment the night had to offer.

Later, when you go to look back at the photos, they are utterly Idia-less and you begin to think he never showed up. Until you spot him cartoonishly tip-toeing in one of the photograph’s corners to place his gift for you on the designated table without anyone noticing. Mission failed; Cater and Ortho never miss a single thing.

You didn’t know students at Diasomnia all too well but Kalim had insisted they invite them anyway. Unlike Idia however, they did not attend. Though Jamil surmises something happened to the invitation along the way. Perhaps sending the invite via carrier pigeon wasn’t the best way after all…

You could pick out Floyd’s voice from miles away, which wasn’t even a difficult task since he was singing so incredibly loud and off-key that he was throwing one of the macaws off its rhythm. Jamil argued with him while simultaneously attempting to conduct the birds. An impossible task, but impressive he was attempting anyway. 

Jade remained unfazed with a polite smile on his face, and you could see his glinting eye in the dark of the room. Beside him, Azul’s gaze would shift to the cake and then back to your face several times, as if the cake was his temptress and he was trying his best to remain pious.

Kalim clapped along, oblivious to the chaotic tune but arguably the happiest of the bunch.

It all felt terribly awkward, like it always does when you’re the center of attention and don’t quite know what to do. You’re not really sure if anyone in the world knows what to do when people sing you Happy Birthday. But you supposed mouthing every other verse with a huge smile plastered on your face was enough.

Just as the song concluded, you looked over to the corner where you knew Leona was, and he had but a single second to absorb the way the shadows framed your face and memorize your grin, bright enough to rival the candles, before you blew them out and plunged the room into night.

The room promptly erupted into whistles and cheers and claps and you feel full and happy and utterly grateful. 

The lights turn on, you cut the cake, slices of dessert are passed around, and the festivities continue as students laugh and eat and dance and chatter.

Except, the festivities seem to have forgotten that they need to end too.

At a certain point, you’ve laughed until your lungs threatened to collapse, eaten your fill and plenty more, danced to the point of your legs giving out from under you, and chattered until your mouth ran dry and refused to rehydrate itself. And the party still showed no sign of stopping, much less slowing.

Scarabia’s stamina should be scientifically studied because maintaining these energy levels while keeping guests entertained is absolutely impossible. Any time someone would even whisper they are thinking about retiring for the evening, Kalim would announce some wonderful game and the party would start right back up again.

You were having fun, but at a certain point it all becomes too much. The lights are too blinding, the body heat is too stifling, and music and conversation become difficult to separate. Your feet begin to slow and betray you and your stomach cannot handle another crumb. 

It was nearly two in the morning and the acapella birds were flying around the room in disorienting circles and there were multiple students screaming about droppings on their outfits. At some point, Kalim left and re-entered riding an elephant, which promptly took up half the room and left you fighting against the horde of students who rushed closer, wanting to ride the elephant themselves. You’re not even sure how the animal fit in the room.

Is it rude to leave your own party?

Surely no one would notice if you slip out.

“Bye guys, thank you so much for the party,” you say to no one in particular and much too quietly for anyone to hear. 

The thrum of the speakers ebbs away as you leave Scarabia’s dorm room. You practically float down the hall, your mind driving out the music and focusing instead on your footfalls. It’s significantly cooler outside the dorm, the temperature dropping by several degrees on account of there being no sweaty student bodies attempting a mosh pit pressed up against you.

Also, no elephant.

“Hey! Where’re ya goin’?”

Although, there is a certain lion.

You whirl around and nearly splatter against Leona’s vest. He was much closer than you realized. In his hands is a rather large, rather long gift wrapped in orange and black polka dotted paper. The music is still audible from here and you could see the lights in the room flashing various colors from the open door. 

Your voice is surprisingly steady when you reply. “I’m just, uh, getting some fresh air.” You gesture in the general direction of away from the party.

“Ah,” Leona says simply.

Leona never exactly asks to tag along, nor do you invite him, but the two of you end up walking in the same direction with the unspoken and mutual agreement of getting some fresh air binding the two of you together.

When the two of you are finally outside and the chilly night air erects goosebumps over your arm, you feel refreshed enough to properly break the silence. “I’m surprised you stayed at the party that long, Leona.”

“Me too.”

There’s a boatload of silence before you decide you should probably address the elephant in the room.

(Not the real elephant, which is in Scarabia's dorm, but the metaphorical elephant of the huge gift Leona is carrying around.)

“Who’s that for?” You point to the present curiously, eyeing it as if you could divulge the contents with your non-existent x-ray vision.

“Crowley, obviously.” A beat passes and Leona coughs. “That was a joke, clearly.”

“I think maybe you should work on your delivery.”

Leona rolls his eyes and shoves it in your hands. “Cool it, herbivore. I got ya somethin’ for your birthday. Who else’s would it be?”

The two of you sit down on a bench en route to Ramshackle to properly and unhurriedly unwrap your gift. With much difficulty, you turn the box in hand and give it a little shake. It’s heavy, but the weight is unevenly distributed. 

“Who wrapped this?” You ask, because whoever did so definitely mastered the impossible art of neat gift-wrapping. Also, because the longer you waited to open the gift, the harder Leona’s tail thrashed in anticipation. And you thought that was extremely amusing and very endearing.

“Me.”

You give Leona a look.

“Okay, okay! Sheesh, you got me. Ruggie and Jack also helped.”

You try to suppress a smile but fail miserably, and give into a laugh that mutates into snorts that have you gripping your aching sides. “H-how many N-night Raven College students…” you manage between huffs, “does it take to wrap a gift?!”

Leona stands up and the gift is promptly ripped from your hand. He holds it high above his head and definitively out of your reach. Your laugh stops immediately and you stand up. 

“Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll just take the gift back,” he taunts, a mischievous smile playing on the corner of his lips as he looks down on you.

“Hey! Wait stop, I didn’t mean it!!” 

The most surprising thing isn’t that it took three Night Raven College students to wrap a gift, but that Leona Kingscholar had asked for help to wrap your gift. 

Leona doesn’t lower the gift by a fraction and instead holds your gaze steady, smirk becoming more evident by a minute. 

You sigh and take a deep breath.

“Pretty please Housewarden Leona sir, I would like the gift back on account that it is mine and not Crowley’s and also I am very truly sincerely sorry for what I said. Your wrapping skills are exquisite and I wish to become your humble student and learn your ways if you would accept me.”

“Ugh, total overkill. Okay, whatever,” Leona scoffs. “Here ya go.”

He practically drops the gift on your head before taking a seat back on the bench. His ears twitch as he watches you unwrap the gift. Unlike the many underclassmen he’s seen on Christmas and other such holidays, you don’t immediately start ravaging the paper apart to get to the good stuff.

Instead, he looks on as you try your best not to tear the wrapping apart, taking your time to ensure you’re unwrapping the gift in the order he taped it in. You start on the side, your finger wedging itself beneath the tape and slowly but surely peeling it off before repeating the motion on the other side of the box, and so on and so forth. 

Leona is not familiar with this particular method of unwrapping gifts. He’s seen Cheka tear through the paper with teeth alone, plundering past to reveal its treasures. It’s not a very time-efficient strategy, but nevertheless Leona found himself feeling a sort of fondness for the way you handle even the silliest things with such care.

It makes him wonder if you would treat him the same.

Tug too hard on even the sturdiest and thickest of paper and it, too, will tear. But you peel back layer by layer without aggression or hurry. You make gentleness look effortless, patience instinctive, as if you had all the time in the world to sit beside Leona under an increasingly starry sky. 

“C’mon, I don’t have all night,” Leona grumbles, his tone lacking any real bite. “Why bother with something you’re just gonna toss in the end anyway?”

“I dunno,” you shrug. “Because you took the time to wrap it?”

It was well past two in the morning now, the birthday party a distant memory blurred by the kind of peace only night can bring. A light breeze blows past the two of you and it ripples through the wrapping paper, held firmly in Leona’s hands so it doesn’t fly away.

You stare at the shiny broomstick in awe. It’s made of dark wood and is slicker than sleek. The broom bristles are shiny and uniform, not a twig out of place. On the handle is your name engraved in cursive lettering, beside it, a star. 

“It’s a new model,” Leona explains. “I imbued it with my magic so that you, magicless as you are, could ride it too. You're gonna have to come back so I can cast the spell again but it probably beats having to walk back to Ramshackle all the time.”

He’s over-explained, Leona thinks to himself. He can’t help it; he’s just not sure if you like it or not. Your reaction is puzzling: your mouth is clamped shut and your eyes are unblinking. 

Maybe you didn’t like it? Or someone had already somehow given you the exact same thing?

Oh no.

Maybe you were afraid of heights!

Leona’s mind had jumped through several hoops, but the truth was it wasn’t any of those things. You were simply trying your best to gather your words without bursting into tears. Even Leona has his limits. 

It was probably the most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given you. 

Don’t cry, don't cry, don't cry, DON’T cry.

“Listen, if you don’t like it I can—”

“No,” you interrupt, placing your hand on his arm. “I love it. It’s perfect.”

Leona’s glad his heart is firmly welded into his chest, because otherwise it probably would have skipped right over to you. He can feel it thrum in his ears, echoing your very words throughout every vein. 

I love it. It’s perfect.

“It looks big enough to fit two people. Can you take me for a ride on it?”

Leona’s heart seemed to stop beating entirely. 

Can he take you for a what on what.

It’s true that the broom fits two people, but Leona didn’t consider himself into the equation when he commissioned it to be made. He had a cat in mind but it wasn’t him; it was Grim. 

You hold the broom out to him with such sincerity, eyes full and twinkling like the stars above, sure he would never deny you. Not when the weather is so nice and clear. And certainly not on your birthday.

How right you are.

After crumbling the wrapping paper to dust and ensuring his heart had re-started, Leona tentatively takes the broom from your hand and swings his leg over the handle, just below your engraved name. You stand behind him and do the same without hesitation. Watching Vargas teach Flight class meant you spent a good chunk of your time observing and subconsciously internalizing what to do and what not to do, as well as the techniques and habits of various students.

For example, you knew that Leona likes to take off very quickly. Which is why you make sure to wrap your hands around his torso and hold on tightly. 

Because you don’t want to fall off obviously. 

By now Leona’s heart had gotten used to stopping and restarting, but his body had still stiffened just the slightest bit under your touch nevertheless. Leona kicks off the ground without waiting a further moment and the two of you take to the sky in a blur. You hold on even more tightly, if that was even possible, and fight back the scream lodged in your throat. 

Half-sure your soul had taken flight and left your body back on the ground, you dare to glance down. Only, your body isn’t there. The familiar roads back to Ramshackle are grains of pepper to season the wide expanse of wilderness before you. The castle, framed by the night sky and wispy clouds, is even more magnificent from up here, and hauntingly beautiful. If you reached out right now, perhaps you would be able to touch the roof tiles?

Your hands stay firmly lodged in their place, wound around Leona and resting on his abdomen. They would not obey you even if you commanded them, in fear that letting go would also mean falling down. This was your first time on a broomstick after all. It would take some practice before you would be able to do this on your own. 

Still, flying by yourself sounds a bit lonely. You also think it would also be significantly less warm. Your cheeks, stinging from the cold rush of wind, had found warmth in Leona’s back, so you leave your face buried there even as Leona begins to slow for the descent.

Ramshackle grows larger in your vision. You can see the warped iron fence, the splintered wood, and the crumbling chimney of the house you call home. It does look better on the inside, you remind yourself. 

You wish you could say the landing went smoothly but it definitely didn’t and it was entirely your fault. 

You feel brave enough, or maybe stupid enough, to extend your feet, thinking the ground to still be further away. Unfortunately, your feet skid the two of you to a forceful stop, and the broomstick violently jerks the two of you off its handle before landing soundlessly on the floor.

You scream as you land on something squishy and Leona lets out a pained oof sound. 

“S-sorry Leona! That was my fault.”

“Geroff me!” Leona calls from below you. Maybe a few months ago he would have shoved you off without a care, but now he waits for you to prop yourself up on your hands and stand up before he does the same. 

Picking the blades of grass off you, you let out a groan when you see they’ve left a stain of green in their wake. “Aw man! This was my special birthday outfit!”

“You always have next year.”

You smack him playfully and throw the grass you collected on his shirt. “You’re horrible.”

“I know, but you love it.”

“Yeah, I do.”

A silence overtakes the two of you, and the metaphorical elephant in the room has never been larger.

It’s strange, this silence. In its stillness it seems to amplify other senses. The scent of Leona’s cologne is still present in the air, even after a very thrilling broom ride. Leona can smell a hint of frosting on your own breath, and hear the pumping of your heart alongside his.

Would they get louder if he stepped closer?

They do, and the heartbeats quicken in sync. The smell of cologne and frosting is stronger now, mingling in the small space between his lips and yours.

You can’t think—you won’t. If not now, then it won’t be ever. Your heels lift and you press a kiss to Leona’s lips, lingering just long enough for you to feel him kissing back. His hand winds around your neck and his fingers intertwine themselves in your hair to push you closer, deeper.

It’s three in the morning, maybe almost four. You left your birthday party early and spent ten minutes unwrapping a single gift. You soared through the sky and tumbled down onto the ground and you kissed Leona Kingscholar with grass stains in your shirt and frosting on your tongue. 

You’re a year older now; maybe not quite wiser. But you made it through yet another year, and that is a feat worth celebrating.

[solxamber]

Feel It || Deuce Spade

You're the only one who can make him feel alive.

or: Delinquent! Deuce on my mind

w.c: ~1.6k

The first time Deuce realizes he's in trouble is when you laugh with blood on your teeth.

Some guy twice your size had shoved you outside the convenience store, and you'd shoved back harder, and now there's a split in your lip that's going to bruise ugly by morning. You're grinning anyway. Deuce can feel his heart doing backflips in his chest and it has nothing to do with the adrenaline still singing through his veins from the fight.

"That was so dumb," he says, breathless, and you're still smiling at him.

"He started it."

"You finished it."

"Someone had to." You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, smearing red across your knuckles, and Deuce has to look away before he does something irreversible. There's a hum under his skin that won't settle. He wants to grab your face and check the damage properly. He wants to follow you into every stupid dangerous thing you do for the rest of his life.

He does none of those things. Instead he shoves your shoulder and says, "C'mon, let's get out of here before someone calls the cops," and you follow him down the street, still laughing, and he tells himself that this is enough.

The blastcycle is older than both of you combined and sounds like it's going to explode every time Deuce kicks it into gear, but it goes, and that's all that matters.

You're pressed against his back, arms locked around his waist, shouting something he can't hear over the wind and the engine. He takes a turn too fast on purpose just to feel you tighten your grip, and when you smack his shoulder in retaliation he can't stop grinning.

There's nowhere to go. That's the thing about nights like this—there's no destination, no point, just the road and the speed and the way the city blurs into streaks of neon when he pushes the bike past any reasonable limit.

You never complain. You just hold on and trust him to keep you both alive, and that trust is a weight he carries everywhere.

He pulls off onto some empty overlook, kills the engine, and the silence that follows is so sudden it makes his ears ring.

"Again," you say immediately, breathless and electric, and Deuce laughs because of course you want to go again. Of course you do.

"We're gonna run out of gas."

"So? We'll figure it out."

You always say that. Deuce doesn't know how to tell you that he's already figured it out. That he's been trying to figure it out for months. That the answer to every question he has starts and ends with you, and he still doesn't know what to do with that.

So he just kicks the bike back to life and says, "Hold on tight," and you do.

There's a house party in some warehouse on the edge of town, the kind of place that's half-abandoned and smells like rust and spilled beer. Someone's rigged up a speaker system that's blasting music so loud Deuce can feel it vibrating in his bones, and there are too many people crammed into too little space, and it's perfect.

You drag him into the center of it all, pulling him by the wrist, and Deuce goes because he'd follow you anywhere. The music is all bright synth and thumping bass, and you're moving to it like you don't care who's watching. You probably don't.

Deuce isn't much of a dancer, but he tries anyway because you're laughing at him and the sound cuts through the noise. You grab his hands and spin yourself under his arm, stumbling a little, and he catches you before you can trip over your own feet.

"You're terrible at this," you shout over the music, and he can see the grin splitting your face wide.

"Yeah, well, you're not much better!"

"I'm way better!"

You're not. You're both disasters. But you're disasters together, and that's all Deuce has ever wanted.

Someone jostles him from behind and he nearly loses his balance, but you steady him with a hand on his chest, and suddenly you're close enough that he can smell the faint trace of your shampoo under the warehouse stink. His heart kicks up in a way that has nothing to do with the music. He wonders if you can feel it under your palm.

You don't move your hand.

He doesn't move either.

The moment stretches and Deuce thinks maybe this is it, maybe he should just say it, just tell you that he's been carrying this feeling around for so long he doesn't remember what it's like to not want you. But then someone cranks the music up even louder and you step back, laughing again, and the moment snaps.

"Come on," you say, tugging him toward the makeshift bar in the corner. "I need a drink."

Deuce follows.

The diner is open twenty-four hours and serves the greasiest food Deuce has ever tasted, which means it's perfect for nights like this when it's 3am and neither of you can sleep.

You're sitting across from him in the booth, stealing fries off his plate even though you ordered your own. There's a bruise blooming across your cheekbone from earlier—some fight Deuce can't even remember the details of anymore, just the way you'd grinned at him afterward.

"You're staring," you say without looking up, and Deuce blinks.

"No I'm not."

"You definitely are."

He was. He knows he was. He can't help it. You've got ketchup on your thumb and your hair's a mess and you look like you've been through a war, and he's never seen anything better in his life.

"Just thinking," he says, which isn't a lie.

"About?"

You. Always you.

"Nothing important."

You hum, unconvinced, and steal another fry. The fluorescent lights overhead are buzzing faintly, casting everything in a sickly yellow glow, and there's a couple arguing in the booth behind you, and the whole place smells like burnt coffee and fryer oil. It's objectively miserable.

Deuce has never been happier.

"Hey," you say suddenly, looking up at him with those eyes that make his chest feel too small. "Thanks for tonight."

"I didn't do anything."

"Yeah, you did." You're smiling at him, soft and sincere, and Deuce feels something crack open inside him. "You always do."

He doesn't know what to say to that. He doesn't trust himself to say anything at all. So he just kicks your foot under the table and says, "Shut up and eat your fries," and you laugh and do exactly that.

The roof of the parking garage is technically off-limits, but the lock was broken months ago and no one's bothered to fix it, so it's become your spot by default.

You're lying on the hood of someone's car—not yours, not Deuce's, just some random sedan that's been parked here for days—staring up at the sky. Deuce is beside you, close enough that your shoulders are almost touching, and he's trying very hard not to think about how easy it would be to close that gap.

"Do you ever think about leaving?" you ask, and your voice is quiet in the dark.

Deuce turns his head to look at you. "Leaving where?"

"Here. This town. All of it." You gesture vaguely at the sky, the buildings, the world in general. "Just getting on the bike and going until we run out of road."

"Sometimes," Deuce admits. He thinks about it more than he should. Thinks about the two of you disappearing into the horizon, no plans, no responsibilities, just the wind and the endless sprawl of highway. "You wanna go?"

"I don't know." You're still looking at the sky. "Maybe. Would you come with me?"

The question shouldn't hurt, but it does. Because of course he would. He'd follow you to the end of the world if you asked. He'd follow you into hell. He'd follow you anywhere.

But he doesn't think that's what you're really asking.

"Yeah," he says, and his voice comes out rougher than he meant. "I'd come with you."

You turn your head then, just enough to look at him, and there's something in your expression he can't read. The streetlights below cast long shadows across your face, turning everything into sharp angles and soft curves, and Deuce is staring again. He knows he's staring. He can't stop.

"Deuce," you start, and his heart is pounding so hard he's sure you can hear it.

And then you kiss him.

You lean over and press your mouth to his like it's the easiest thing in the world, like you've been thinking about it as long as he has, and Deuce's brain stops completely. His hand comes up to cup your jaw on instinct and he can feel you smiling against his lips.

When you pull back, you're grinning.

"Catch me if you can," you say, and then you're sliding off the hood and running, your laughter echoing off the concrete walls of the parking garage.

Deuce sits there for half a second, stunned, and then his body catches up to what just happened and he's moving. He vaults off the car and takes off after you, his blood pumping hot and wild through his veins, and he can hear you laughing ahead of him, can see the shape of you disappearing around the corner.

He's going to catch you.

He's going to catch you and kiss you again and tell you everything he's been too scared to say.

He's going to catch you and never let you go.

Deuce runs, and the sound of your laughter pulls him forward like a lifeline, and for the first time in months he feels like he can breathe.

Masterlist

he's been on my mind for days and i had to get it out of my system to move on with my life

[otomaticallyobsessed]

Can I just take a second to preach about this fandom?

Fr, you guys are the best. I love our writers, artists, asks/anons, the community we have developed here.

I recently joined a different fandom for a massively popular anime. And its just. Its just insane. Genuinely one of the most toxic fandoms I’ve ever seen (and I’m a survivor of SuperWhoLock ifykyk). Callout posts, bullying and death threats, a whole ass blog dedicated to “cancelling problematic writers”. And it would be one thing if they were calling out racist, sexist, or otherwise unacceptable behavior… but its literally because they don’t like certain ships? Or because someone said something halfway rude 5 years ago? The tags are full of the most homophobic and toxic slander I think I’ve ever seen on Tumblr. Imagine being openly homophobic on the gayest website????

Anyways, I know we have our own issues as a fandom, but I just wanted to say that I LOVE YOU ALL! The ideas and community surrounding the twst fandom are inspired, and incredible. I love being a part of it, and it’s been fun watching us all grow in our collaborations together. You all add so much value to my life, and thank you all for being an overall wonderful community to be a part of. Everytime I dive back in, it feels like I’m coming home.

[bluessmau]

Children with Azul

In which Fem!Reader and Azul are married, and are navigating the ins and outs of parenthood together.

AGED UP. Fluff. Fem! AFAB! Reader. Requested by Anon. Each row is a different day, spanning a few months apart.

Children with Sebek

Azul Ashengrotto

Tags: @waitlexist @ryebread0605 @im-no-mechanic-but @lazeriii @oldwokasiv @currapted1glitch0 @ppnuggie111 @mostro-lounge-menu @silverargentu @foxglovepng @maiiamoon @sweetlikevanilaaa @maomaoyuu @th30sstuff @kyuu0 @a-hidden-gem @mx-insert-fandom-here @the-internet-angei @notgoldilocks @byzantiumhollow @echosofmortality

[randomchaosyay]

Personal patisserie - Jade Leech x reader

In which an offhand comment leads to everyone thinking you and Jade broke up. Even Jade.

A/N: partially inspired by his one vingette with the sugar cubes, bro looked horrified when Kalim just dumped them 😭. Also chaos. It's 1am and nothing is proofread, we die like men- fast and of our own making

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Jade Leech are dating, everyone knows it, some people love it, and most just think its an odd pair. You don't really understand it yourself honesetly, what's so odd about that? Though anyone with eyes can see it, you're a sweet ray of sunshine, perhaps one of the kindest people in the whole school, an absolute vision of beauty, and practically running an unofficial bakery. How could anyone not simply adore you?

And then there was Jade, nine out of ten students would probably just describe him as the strange eel twin with a penchant for mushrooms. No one ever expected you two to get together, so when today came around, no one hesitated to jump to conclusions.

To you, it was just another normal day-- and really truly it was. The birds were singing and the pitter-pattering pellets of rain drummed their consistent drone in the background. A perfect day to bake truly. You were making some sweet treat, a tooth rotting, diabetes inducing, cavity cake, which probably fueled the nightmares of several different dentists, yet could also make the Grinch's poor heart grow three more sizes just because of the sheer mouth watering taste.

Suddenly, your peaceful baking time was interrupted by Cater and the two first years, and you weren't sure if it was by smell, sound, or just chance. But instantly, like you always were, you were grilled with questions, and the first one to strike was Cater.

"Hey wait lemme get a pic to post on magicam, that frosting is really cutee"

You barely got a chance to agree to Cater's request before Ace struck, trying to canoodle his way into a slice.

"So...is that cake for...anyone in particular...?" You shake your head, trying not to look too amused at this situation, though you can't entirely hide the laugh that threatens to escape your lips. Deuce, to his credit, doesn't say anything, but he's practically drooling.

"Yep it is! It's for Azul and Floyd, figured they could use something nice." You try, and fail, to keep more of your laughter at bay as Ace's face falls into a dramatic pout. Though Ace was not one to be detered from a cake he was convinced was his destiny. Honestly, he might have looked at that cake with more love than he had ever given anyone in his life.

"Well I'm sure they wouldn-"

"Wait," Cater's voice cut him off abruptly, and with all the chaos of the kitchen and Ace, you didn't notice the small thoughtful frown on his lips, "for Azul and Floyd? Not for Jade?"

"Well of course not," you say as you eye Cater with an absurd look, "why would I give this to Jade?"

You didn't think anything of it, Jade prefers things a little less sweet so why would you give him that sugary monstrosity in front of you? After all you already had a special batch of cookies just for him in the oven already. Though the trio seemed to think it was odd, and rushed out without another word, not even a last minute attempt to grab some sweets. Shrugging it off you went back to work, figuring it couldn't be anything that bad.

Oh how wrong you were.

It took exactly twenty two minutes for your phone to start blowing up with notifications. Your phone dinged so fast you were convinced it was going to blow up. Everyone from your closest friends to the random kid that sits in the back of your alchemy class was spamming you.

You got more and more confused as you scrolled through the notifications, seeing bits about Jade and breaking up and potential dates. You didn't even have time to respond to anyone or ask them what in the world was happening.

Because it took Floyd Leech exactly twenty four minutes to get to you and haul you out of the kitchen, certainly not by choice.

Your confused notifcation reading was interrupted by Floyd's dramatic entrance, doors slamming open and all.

"SHRIMPY." He yelled accusatorily, as he walked over to where you were. You barely had time to react before he was tossing you over his shoulder like a potato sack and carried you discourteously out of the room. Your protests fell on deaf ears as he muttered on and on under his breath about "fixing Jade" and how this "stupid magicam thing broke him" At this point you had genuinely given up asking questions, seven's know what was happening.

After what felt like several different portals and perhaps three hundred hallways, Floyd unceremoniously unceremoniously dropped you in the kitchen of the Mostro Lounge, pointed at Jade, and left with a brusque "Fix him."

Your Jade was currently stirring a pot of what may have been mushroom soup with what could only be described as uncomfortable amounts of malice. His face was drawn into an emotion you couldn't quite describe, somewhere between desolate sorrow and anger. So you did what any lover would do, and walked right up behind him and wrapped your arms around him, letting your face come to rest on one of his shoulders. His body tensed, like a man compelling himself to not to fall apart, yet he relaxed in your arms anyways

A few minutes passed, and Jade let out several long sighs, which you weren't entirely sure if he was doing on purpose or not, but you decided you'd bite anyways.

"Whats wrong?" You questioned him softly, willing him to answer your question, yet not wanting to push him.

He stopped stiring his soup-- which quite frankly was beginning to resemble sludge--and paused for a few moments, then the fated answer came.

"Do you want to break up with me?"

This time it was your turn to pause, as you tried to comprehend his words.

"What" you gasped out. You pulled away from him abruptly and cupped both his cheeks, gently guiding his face so he had no choice but to look you in the eyes. "Of course I don't, what could possibly have given you that idea?"

He showed you his phone, and there were NRC threads and discussion forums pulled up online and on Magicam and whatnot. Various convesations and speculations of a bunch of people talking about how the two of you weren't dating anymore and how you hated him because you would never gift him anything. One account even went so far to speculate you would have to drop out of school because you hated seeing him so much.

Through all this chaos though, there was one comment that caught your eye, and suddenly everything made sense. 'His supposed lover doesn't even want to be in the room with him long enough to give him cake, poor guy'

All of this over one offhand comment that you didn't want to destroy your boyfriend's tastebuds.

You quickly started explaining to him the events of the day, and how it really was just a massive misunderstanding, and really your phrasing was probably terrible but you didn't mean it like that at all, and how all of these people are just being nosy and blowing things way out of proportion...

"...and I swear I had a batch of cookies in the oven just for you." You finished your long rambling explanation, and paused to catch your breath. And Jade was the picture of relief, the heaviness he seemed to carry was gone, replaced by his normal expression, smile a bit wider than usual.

"So you still love me?" He asked, a rare show of vulnerability raw in his eyes as he looked at you, practically begging.

"I do."

For a long moment, Jade just held you and breathed. If you had asked him, he would've told you that he could feel his heart piecing it back together. He doesn't think he would ever be able to let you go, not that he wanted to anyways.

"Jade?"

"Yes?"

"Floyd didn't let me turn the oven off so I think your cookies are burning"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that night you made a magicam post, nothing too fancy.

Just a picture of you and Jade, hands intertwined.

'Still mine'

[vampireapologist-archive-deacti]

drake?

[hazeleyedcat]

josh?

[vampireapologist-archive-deacti]

where’s the body of christ?

[wyrddog]

[mxmz-y]

Truths Out ✿ ! ─ Octavinelle

You meant to text someone else, not your crush!

Warnings: none (possible spoilers for book 3)

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, and Floyd Leech

Taglist: @princess-poolia

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

a/n: after this I’m gonna do reverse confessions, and if anyone wants to be in my tag list lmk!!

Azul Ashengrotto

Jade Leech

Floyd Leech

[bluessmau]

Ignorance is Bliss

In which Fem!Reader does not listen to her boyfriend, the Housewardens, when he says that another student is flirting with her. Reader comes back after meeting with that student and apologizes.

Hurt/Comfort. Fem(AFAB and MtF-friendly)!Reader. Established relationship. Requested by Anon.

Riddle Rosehearts

Leona Kingscholar

Azul Ashengrotto

Kalim Al-Asim

Vil Schoenheit

Idia Shroud

Malleus Draconia

Tags: @waitlexist @ryebread0605 @im-no-mechanic-but @lazeriii @oldwokasiv @currapted1glitch0 @ppnuggie111 @enlightenedheir @mostro-lounge-menu @silverargentu @foxglovepng @maiiamoon @sweetlikevanilaaa @maomaoyuu @th30sstuff @kyuu0 @a-hidden-gem @mx-insert-fandom-here @echosofmortality

[alice-everafter]

soulmates: every bruise, cut, and scar you receive is mirrored onto another

You're 7 years old when a hair-raising prickle sends a sudden wash of cold along your calf. Looking under your desk, you're greeted by the sight of your skin blooming with red in a jagged line. So dark that it makes your heart drop.

Your teacher is the one who has to console your tears. Who has to explain that no, you are not hurt, nor are you actually bleeding. But your soulmate is, the person who's destined to be your perfect match. The one who was made for you in all the ways that matter.

This only makes you cry harder, choked up on mucus and gasping between breaths.

You're sent home early with a pat on the back and gentle words of assurance.

You spend every waking moment until you succumb to sleep staring at your leg. Watching the flesh beneath the painted-on cut evolve in shades of purples and greens, like bruises. You've felt the place where this mark sits numerous times, and sure enough the skin feels whole.

This does nothing to calm your thundering heart.

For the next week, you dream of unopened cuts and bruises breaking out across every inch of your skin. And you, helpless, can only bare witness.

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

No other injuries quite as drastic as that one appears after that. Only small things, like a line across your finger. A paper cut. Or a purple spot on your shin. A bruise.

Regardless, every mark makes you feel a little sick to your stomach.

You don't want them to get hurt, nor do you want you yourself to get hurt. The very thought sends your heart skittering.

Except it's unavoidable. You're only a child still learning how to live. As much as you try to tread the world with careful steps and hesitant fingers, something will always eventually manage to snag on your foot and send you tumbling.

And tumble you do, causing you to scrape your knee during recess. The teacher runs over, ready for the resulting panic. You let her patch you up while your eyes catch on the scar on your calf, avoiding the splotchy red sticking to your knee.

The one that started it all, the mark that’s mirrored on the skin of your other half. The shared experience of living and falling that you both will be forever intimately connected with.

Maybe, somewhere, someone is wishing to know what caused their knee to bloom in color. Maybe someone wishes that they were there to patch you up. Maybe they're hoping that you’ll never get hurt again.

The usual jerky flutter of fear in your chest begins to lessen.

Your teacher is looking at you with bated breath.

“Are you okay?”

And strangely, you think you are.

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

You're learning to make peace with it all. The instinctual fear is still there with every brief glimpse of red you see. But it's manageable, and eventually easily soothed.

And as you grow, you learn more and more. You listen to stories of people so desperate to find each other that they carve patterns or words into their own flesh. Marking not just themselves but someone else with hopes that it'll be easier to find them.

But then there are other stories, like the stuff shown on the news. Tragic ones where all a person can do is show their skin to the authorities and cry, pleading for someone to find their other before it's too late.

You wonder how a cut can mean two different things. What is pain when it's so unavoidably intertwined with love?

You don't know. It's a question too big for your immature mind to wrap around.

But at least there is comfort in knowing that someone is out there looking at the slightly darkened skin of their knee and possibly thinking of you.

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

You're outside when it happens, when a chill flows like water across your cheek. Assuming it's just the wind, you keep walking. Until there's another, a splattering of ice cold across the bridge of your nose.

You're reminded of the scar on your calf, how it started off with a chill. You take off running for home when a tingle settles over your lip.

You don't stop until you're in front of a mirror.

Your nose is all but covered in a dark, burgundy violet. It dips into the contours of one of your eyes and makes it appear darkened and deep set. Your lower lip is bright red, angry like it's been busted in but with none of the swelling.

It feels like you can't breathe. All you can think is that you're about to become another news story.

But then you feel a chilly brush along your knuckles. Still looking in the mirror, you watch as the flesh bursts in shades of red and purple. And continue to do so until every knuckle is covered.

Eventually, the cold recedes. Yet it feels like a lump of ice settles deep in your stomach.

All that peace suddenly seems like a dream.

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

You feel along the mark on your calf as the purples over your nose come to fade to greens, trying to soothe the jerky motion of your heart by reminding it of the last time this happened.

You hope, more than you ever have, that this is also just a freak accident.

Days later, when you finally have the strength to leave your house, the bruises over your knuckles darken in a chilling rush.

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

Your friends like to ask each other about their marks. How they think their soulmate might've gotten them. Some theories are logically sound; others are wildly fantastical and purely done up for laughs.

They don't ask you about yours. Because all the bandages and gloves aren't subtle, no matter much you wish them to be.

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

Your knuckles eventually even out, with only the occasional purple mark or reddened cut appearing.

It makes you wonder how well your soulmate has gotten at fighting. Or whether their skin has simply hardened, so used to bruises that they've become the very foundation of their flesh.

A soulmate is the person who will know your pain, who will see your scars and know them to be yours.

But what happens when your scars are so buried under their own? Will they still be able to recognize yours?

Do you even want to be recognized, is the question.

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

Your question is answered when you're suddenly whisked away into a world of magic and ink.

There are many things to feel once you lay down on your musky sheets, listening to your new companion snore away without a care in the world.

You should be sleeping; there are janitor duties that you apparently need to do starting tomorrow.

But all you can focus on is the burn on your arm where Grim had gotten a bit too close for comfort trying to hit a ghost. It rubs abrasively against the bedsheets.

You wonder if your soulmate knows that this one is yours. You wonder if not just your family can feel your absence. After years of on and off again bruised knuckles and split lips, do they miss your scars even a little bit?

It doesn't matter now. You're somewhere no one you know can reach you. You'll never find your answers.

A sob chokes itself back in your throat, but another quickly follows. You heave shuddering breaths into the dank smell of your pillowcase until you're sure you've suffered enough mold poisoning to reach even your forever unanswered other half.

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

You get hurt a lot the next day. A splinter in your thumb, a bruise to your knee, a bleeding lip from how much you've bitten it raw. You nearly land another burn thanks to Ace and Grim's combined efforts. Then you nearly tear up your whole body if you had missed that step as badly as you could've while chasing after Ace's fleeing form.

Thankfully, another student stops him and saves you from further injury. While giving Ace what should've been a dozen broken ribs by dropping a whole cauldron on him.

"Dude!" He groans once released from under the pot. "What the hell am I supposed to say to my soulmate when they ask why there was once a giant bruise in the shape of a cauldron on their back?!"

"Send them my apologies for having such a lousy partner." The man whose name is Deuce answers. "What were you even thinking, trying to avoid a task the headmaster gave you?"

You stop listening after that, too caught up in the static filling your head.

Ace mentioned a soulmate. One that would somehow know about a bruise on his body.

Your eyes involuntarily catch on Deuce's lip, where what looks like an irritated patch of skin lies.

Before you can think any deeper on it, you're told your cat had ran away.

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

There were a million things that could injure you now. Tripping over a loose stone, hitting your head on a stray stalactite, maybe tetanus from stepping on a rusty nail or something. The possibilities were endless in this cave. In this world, really, with fire and wind and apparently falling cauldrons.

Would your soulmate's scars eventually be buried under your own the longer you stayed here?

"Are you okay?"

Deuce is walking beside you; brows pinched in worry.

"Yes," you initially answer. Then remember how he had first helped you with not a backward glance. Regardless of whether this situation was his fault, he had been so earnest and steadfast in his aid. "I'm just nervous, like, what if something happens in here and we get hurt?"

"You're nervous to get hurt?" Ace, the jerk, overhears. "That's it? Not that we'll get expelled or that you'll get evicted from campus?"

"I get what you mean." Deuce nods, and you think that's guilt behind the downturned gaze of his eyes. "I always feel bad whenever I do. Because that means my soulmate's out there probably worrying about me, right?"

He idly brushes the skin of his knuckles. It shouldn't mean much, but it fills your veins with a buzzing adrenaline.

"Do you even have soulmates where you're from?" Ace looks to you with a tilted head and curious eyes. "Ya know, being from another world and all."

Before you can answer, the temperature in the air takes a nosedive. You know from experience what that means thanks to the residents haunting your decrepit lodging arrangement.

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

You all run like hell deeper into the bowels of the cave system. Until the air smells dusty beyond belief and something hulking emerges from even deeper within. A monster with a glass head and ink dripping from its limbs.

All your fears are actualized into an ice-cold terror that locks up your limbs.

But Deuce, he steps forward. No, charges forward. Without a waver in his step.

You don't think before you follow. You can hear shouting from Ace and maybe even Grim. It doesn't matter, what does is that you grab the back of Deuce's blazer and haul him out of range of a swipe from a rusted pickaxe.

You both tumble to the ground in a pile of limbs. You ignore the twin sensations of burning pain and tingling chill on your palm.

"We leave!" Your voice cracks but bellows. "NOW!"

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

You don't end up homeless, thankfully. And you even managed to orchestrate a joint feat of magic that landed you the title of 'beast tamer,' whatever that means.

But that isn't the end of your problems. They evolve into collars and unbirthday parties and painted roses and tarts.

It distracts you from bruises and cuts. So much so that when Deuce asks you to accompany him to the store, it all comes rushing back.

"Prefect?" His voice filters through your overthinking thoughts.

"Yes, I'll come with."

The trip is simple enough, and soon enough you're on the way back with bags of supplies.

"Prefect," he tugs at one of the heavier ones you're holding among the others. No thanks to Grim refusing to assist even though he bothered to come along. "That one must be heavy, let me have it. I know how to carry heavy things."

You want to protest, because you can carry heavy things well enough, thank you very much. But he's already smoothly switching out the bag and easing the strain from off your shoulders.

"So, you carry heavy things often?" You ask to make conversation.

"Yeah, my mom likes to stock up on deals, so ours were always really heavy."

"That's nice of you to carry the heavy stuff. Your mom must be grateful." You make pointed eye contact with Grim, who turns away with a twitch of his tail.

Turning back to Deuce, you see it again. That guilt you swear is somewhere behind his eyes. "No, it's... it wasn't like that at all, actually, I—"

Out of seemingly nowhere, another student collides with Deuce. You both hear and see the eggs that he's holding crack.

The students Deuce ran into were clearly upper classmen. They stand especially tall, like nothing could touch them from that height.

Deuce doesn't see what you do. Either that, or he chooses to ignore the brewing hostility.

"Deuce," you tug hesitantly at his sleeve. "Let's just go back and buy more, it's not that big of a deal."

He doesn't hear you. Or rather, he's too busy brewing his own hostility. Before you know it, fists are flying. And Deuce is the one to throw the first punch.

You don't recognize the man before you as Deuce, but you recognize him as the other you've once imagined. With his violent outburst and impactful hits.

Deuce pants in the wake of the other students fleeing. Fists clenched until the skin turns white and shaking.

"I—" He begins to say, then covers his eyes with firm presses of his palms. "Urk!"

"What's wrong?" Grim asks while you're already striding forward.

"I did it again, didn't I? After everything, I... ARGH!" Then, he finally looks down at his hands with a pained twist of his lips. "What will they think...?"

You put yours over his, covering the newly forming bruises with painted-on ones of your own.

His eyes catch on them, then shoot up to you.

"I think that they'll learn to forgive you."

🃏°🂡⋆ 🎲 .🂡࿔*🃏

[fuckthisbloganditscurses]

Happiness Will Come To You.

[12goblins]

when tho

[fuckthisbloganditscurses]

When You Least Expect It. Probably Late March

[wizardshark]

reblog for happiness to come for you in late march!

[zigxortega]

[zac--efren]

I reblogged this last year and I hung out with blink-182 backstage on March 30. Reblogging again because it worked the first time.

[scientiablr]

honestly, last year one of the best days of my life happened in late March

[bluessmau]

Siren's Song

In which the Octavinelle Boys (separately) have to remove a guest after Fem!Siren!Reader accidentally seduces the guest with her voice.

Warnings: 18+, Fem!AFAB!Reader, Reader is not Yuu, Established relationship, Requested by Anon,

Azul Ashengrotto

Jade Leech

Floyd Leech

Tags: @waitlexist @ryebread0605 @im-no-mechanic-but @lazeriii @oldwokasiv @currapted1glitch0 @ppnuggie111 @enlightenedheir @mostro-lounge-menu @silverargentu @foxglovepng @maiiamoon @sweetlikevanilaaa @maomaoyuu @th30sstuff @kyuu0 @a-hidden-gem @mx-insert-fandom-here @echosofmortality

[sometiktoksarevalid]

[heartsiebyul]

╰─▸ ❝ Twisted Wonderland x reader!

Stop bein' cute

featuring — Leona Kingscholar

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ (one-shot)

The hallway was growing loud as students poured out of their classrooms, heading for their next class in the familiar NRC way, footsteps echoing against the floors, voices overlapping, laughter and shouting bouncing off the walls.

You walked behind your little group, hugging a book to your chest, half-listening as Ace complained loudly about how unfair the last quiz had been.

“I’m telling you, that wasn’t on the study guide” Ace said, waving his notes dramatically. “Trein-sensei got something personal against me.”

“You say that every time you fail” Deuce replied, trying but failing to sound stern as he adjusted his tie. “Maybe you should have studied more.”

Jack snorted. “You both should have studied more.”

Epel snickered. “Looks like there’s a scolding waiting for you back at your dorm.”

Both Ace and Deuce grimaced instantly, clearly imagining their housewarden’s reaction.

Ortho floated beside you cheerfully, humming with a bright smile, while Sebek marched along like an overly alert guard, which honestly, he was, his head swiveling as he scanned the hallway.

“I could glimpse my waka-sama around here!” Sebek declared loudly, eyes sharp and searching.

You stared down at the floor, thinking about Grim being forced to stay with Trein-sensei, a quiet snicker escaping you. When you looked up,

You saw him.

Leona Kingscholar.

He stood a few meters ahead, walking with his usual lazy confidence, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed like the world had already bent itself around him. Ruggie was beside him, talking, probably about food or money, judging by the grin on his face.

Your steps slowed without you even realizing it.

Leona’s eyes flicked up, sharp and observant as ever, and landed on you. For just a second, his expression didn’t change, still bored, still unimpressed, still very much Leona. But you smiled anyway and waved, a small instinctive thing, because he was your boyfriend… and because seeing him always did that to you.

He didn’t smile back.

He simply stared, then looked away and kept walking, passing right by your group as if you weren’t even there.

The warmth in your chest dipped.

You tried not to show it. You really did. But there was that brief sting, unreasonable, maybe, but real all the same. You told yourself he was probably tired. Or annoyed. Or just being Leona. Still, you hugged your book tighter as you kept walking, your smile fading into something quieter.

Your friends had seen the interaction.

Ace cringed. “Oof” he muttered under his breath. “Cold.”

Deuce shot him an elbow. “Ace!”

“What? I’m just saying”

“That’s odd” Jack said, frowning slightly. Epel nodded.

“Why is it odd?” Ortho tilted his head.

“Well, Leona-san does that to everyone” Jack replied.

“But not to (name)” Epel finished.

You barely heard them, already halfway past where Leona and Ruggie had been.

Lost in your thoughts, you failed to notice the footsteps behind you, until something tugged sharply at the back of your collar.

You yelped, stumbling backward, nearly dropping your book, only to collide with a solid chest. A familiar scent, a strong cologne, unmistakably Leona, wrapped around you before you could even process what was happening.

A large hand slid up, fingers firm as they tilted your chin upward.

“Le—”

He didn’t let you finish.

Leona leaned down and kissed you.

Not rushed. Not clumsy. Slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world and wanted everyone to know it. His thumb pressed lightly against your jaw as his other arm held you securely against him, completely unbothered by the stunned silence that fell over the hallway.

Students froze.

Jack blinked rapidly.

Epel’s eyes widened.

Ortho scanned both of you as he processed the situation.

Ace and Deuce’s mouths fell open.

Sebek made a strangled noise of pure outrage and disbelief.

Your mind went blank but you kissed him back.

The world narrowed to the warmth of his lips, the casual confidence in the way he held you, and the fact that this was very much happening, right here, right now, in front of everyone.

When he finally pulled back, it was only by a fraction, his forehead briefly resting against yours. His eyes were half-lidded, amused, and unmistakably smug.

“Stop bein’ cute” Leona muttered lazily, his thumb brushing your cheek. “See you later.”

Leona kissed your head, then let go.

Just like that, he turned and walked off, hands back in his pockets, acting as if he hadn’t just kissed you senseless in the middle of the hallway. Ruggie followed after him, snickering openly, shoulders shaking as he leaned closer.

“Wow, Leona-san” Ruggie said under his breath. “Real subtle.”

Leona clicked his tongue. “Shut it.”

You stood there, frozen, face burning, heart pounding so loudly you were sure everyone could hear it.

Ace was the first to recover.

“IN PUBLIC?!?!” he burst out.

Deuce’s face was completely red. “L-Leona-senpai just—! He just—!”

Jack stared at you, then down the hallway, then back at you again.

“…That’s the Leona-san I know when it comes to (name).”

Epel let out a low whistle. “He didn’t change, but dang. That was bold.”

Ortho floated closer, eyes sparkling. “That was a very high-affection display! My scan indicates your heart rate has increased significantly!”

Sebek, meanwhile, looked like he was five seconds away from combusting. “HOW DARE HE—! Such shameless behavior in the hallway—! Human courtship rituals are truly incomprehensible!”

“Leona’s a beastman, though” Ace pointed out.

Sebek ignored him entirely.

You covered your face with one hand, groaning softly. “Please don’t talk about it. Ever.”

Ace grinned wickedly. “Oh, we’re absolutely talking about it.”

As the bell rang and students began moving again, you forced yourself to breathe, still feeling the ghost of Leona’s kiss and the touch on your jaw, and the echo of his low voice in your ears.

Cute, he said.

Your heart skipped all over again.

Somewhere down the hall, Ruggie’s laughter rang out, followed by Leona’s annoyed growl and despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t stop smiling.

Author's note First post of the month lol

I’ll be dropping another one-shot for Kalim titled:

“How You Say You Love Me? You Ain’t Put Me in Chanel :)”

[twstyturny]

an affection anthology ft. jade leech

a timeline of your relationship through the school year :P

you can read the (optional) prologue, “anti acceptance”, here!

tags/warnings: jade leech x reader (romantic), gn!reader, reader is the prefect, swearing, sfw but written with college age (18-22) in mind, wish upon a star event (very mild spoilers), reader has hair/bedhead, mutual teasing, pure fluff with no serious conflict or stakes

a/n: ik i promised one three-year fic ending in a proposal (requested) but that would be WAY too long for something without a real plot structure ;-;  i’ll at least fulfill this other request with this fic, but i’ll have to do the proposal in yet another installation lol

word count: 9.1k (six fics stacked on top of each other in a giant trench coat)

DO NOT FEED ANY PART OF THIS TO AI.  thanks!

dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/cafekitsune!

You didn’t think you’d get this far.

Two and a half months ago, right before summer break, you’d confessed to Jade Leech.  Not with the intention of pursuing him, dating him, or even flattering him; no, you’d confessed so that he would reject you.  Because that’s the only way you’d be able to quash your crush on the worst possible person you could have a crush on.

Well, to prove you right in just the wrong way, Jade had accepted your confession.  Or if you wanted to be technical about it, he’d rejected your request to be rejected.

And then he charmed you into going on a date.  And at the end of that date, he charmed you into going on another date.  And so on and so forth, until you could confidently say that you and Jade were ‘dat-ing’.

So, correction: you didn’t think you’d get this far, because you’d been actively trying to not go in this direction.

You're also not going to flatter yourself and believe that Jade actually likes you, either.  Like his brother, he’s more motivated by amusement and fascination than by ‘love’.  And though that’s what you'd expected of him from the start, it’s not any less… difficult.

Translation: you are whipped for this stupid eel.  And said stupid eel is blatantly stringing you along.  Through the mud.  For fun.

Welcome to hell.

Draped across your dorm couch like a swooned Victorian lady, Ace sighs, loud and dramatic.  “Maaan, this year’s entrance ceremony was so boring.”

“That’s a good thing, Ace,” you deadpan from the floor.  “Riddle would’ve had everyone’s heads if last year repeated itself.”

“Ehh, probably.  But the Headmage could’ve at least made his speeches shorter, couldn’t he?  It’s not like anyone's actually paying attention.”

Deuce throws a pillow at his head.  “Just because you weren’t paying attention doesn’t mean nobody was!”

“Yeah, Ace!” Grim snickers.

You scoff lightheartedly.  “You weren’t listening either, Grim.  You literally slept through the entire thing.”

The accused whips his head around at you, betrayed.  “W-Well!” he scrambles.

At the flash in Grim’s eyes, you realise: Oh no.  You should not have drawn attention to yourself.  Not when you’re equally culpable.

And here it comes: “At least I wasn’t making goo-goo eyes at Jade Leech the whole time!”

“Yeah,” the redhead snickers as your face heats up, “I guess you can’t get any worse than that!”

Deuce throws a second pillow at Ace—“Be nice!”—but he doesn’t disagree.

Nor do you have any dignity left to deny it, yourself.

“Hey, look on the bright side: he’ll probably break up with you soon,” Ace assures.  “He’s gonna be too busy being a vice-housewarden and thinking about his internship!”

“Oh right,” Deuce and Grim collectively realise with their single shared brain cell, while your heart drops a couple storeys lower than you'd like.

Ace’s argument is a good one—a great one, even—but you've already thought of it before, many times, in fact.  And it’s good news!  You should feel relieved that you’ll finally be free from Jade’s emotional clutches, especially considering how your goal in the first place was just that.

The issue: you're in too deep.  When you’d first gotten into this mess, you were only a few rungs up on the ‘whippedness’ ladder.  You were ready to jump off of your own accord and just sprain an ankle or two, metaphorically.

Now, you're too high on the ladder, about to be shoved off before you're ready, and you’re gonna break both your legs and maybe your back.  And it almost feels like it's not a metaphor anymore.

Instead of voicing any of your inner turmoil, you argue weakly, “We're not even together.  There’s nothing to break up.”

The trio stares at you, in varying degrees of confusion, shock, and exasperation.  Not even a peep.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you add.

“Aren't you dating?” Deuce asks, absolutely dumbfounded.

“Sure, but it’s just dates.  I could go on a date with Ace, and it wouldn't make him my boyfriend.”  You ignore the latter’s disgusted grimace.

“So it’s a good thing then!” Grim responds a bit too abrasively.  “Jade can’t actually dump you, so he’ll just ignore you forever!”

Your heart dips even further.

“Ghost,” Ace adds very helpfully.  “He’ll ghost you.”

Unable to sink into the floorboards at will, you settle for tugging your ceremonial hood over your face.  “Yeah,” your voice breaks.  “Yeah.  Great.  Thanks, guys.”

The very next day, Jade himself shows up to your door before class.

You know in those TV shows, when a cop shows up to someone’s wife’s door, takes off his hat, and solemnly implies in ten words or less that she’s now a widow?  Well, you sure feel like the wife here.

But as you scan his expression for any hint of impending emotional doom, Jade’s polite smile betrays nothing.

“Good morning, Prefect,” he greets.

“Morning, Jade,” you parrot without any heart.

His gaze lingers on your face for an unsettling amount of time, probably to watch the light leave your eyes as he dropkicks your heart into the sun.

This is it.  He’s about to tell you he never wants to see you again.

You square your shoulders and steel yourself for his next words…

“Are you ready to go?”

…which were not what you were expecting.

You nearly collapse in relief.  “Oh, uh, yeah,” you exhale, bracing your spine up against the doorframe.  “Grim?” you turn and call, “it’s time to go!”

A blur of grey shoots past your legs and out the door upon noticing your company.  “Stay safe, Henchhuman!  I’m outta here!”

The eel simply laughs at your furry ward’s blatant fear of him.

Before this, Jade has never come straight to your door to pick you up, so Grim absolutely thinks he’s about to kidnap you or something.  Maybe you should be concerned that your so-called ‘boss’ is so quick to abandon you, but as you spot him in the distance periodically glancing back, you’ll choose to be grateful for the privacy instead.

As if magnetic, your fingers interlock with Jade’s, and oh Seven—

Why does this feel so right?

His hands not clammy or uncomfortably warm, his skin smooth like silk satin but still seemingly unbreakable…  If you really focus, you can feel the dim pulse in his fingertips humming into the back of your hand.

Wouldn’t it be nice to do this every day?

You blow up the tracks of that train of thought and drive it full-steam off a cliff.

It’s not until you arrive at your classroom that you finally begin to slip your hand from Jade’s grasp.

But when you step past the threshold, you fail to suppress a squeak as you’re abruptly tugged back by the same damn hand (which apparently did not fully slip out of Jade’s), straight into his chest.

“Just a moment,” the bastard croons into your ear.  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Your legs buckle, but Jade holds you firmly against him.  “No?” you sputter.

He simply hums.  And then he tips your chin and fucking kisses the top of your head.

“Have a good class, Prefect.”

You distantly hear Deuce, and Ace screaming (“PREFECT, NO!!!” and “WHAT THE FUCK?!!” respectively) down the hall from where they witnessed it.

Jade finally lets you go, and you do, in fact, collapse.  Ace and Deuce scream even harder, and oh hey, Grim’s here too.  “Stay with me, Henchhuman!  I’ll reverse the curse, don’t worry!”

As your friends all panic over the curse that Jade must’ve cast on you, the latter crouches down to your level, amused as ever.  “Are you alright, Prefect?”

“Yup,” you croak, too dazed to notice the hand (the same.  fucking.  one.) that he’s offering you.  “Bye, have a good class~”

“You’re positive you don’t need me to bring you to the infirmary?”

“Uh huh.  See ya…”

On your knees, as the world spins around you, you make a new realisation:

Jade’s not dropping you cold turkey.

He’s gonna build you up, and drop you only when it’s most interesting for him.  Which, by definition, means when it’s most inconvenient for you.

You’re so not ready for this.

For three months, through homework and prefect duties, through midterms and finals, you walk the line between indulging your yearning for Jade and holding him at arm’s length.  It is exhausting.

Every morning, Jade walks you to class.  Every afternoon, he walks you back to your dorm.  You still go on little dates every few weekends.  And every time you two part, he kisses the top of your head.  Which is also fairly mortifying when you’re surrounded by your schoolmates, but that’s beside the point.

The pesky eel has whittled your certainty down to a sliver, so much so that you eventually ask your friends, “Do you think Jade… actually likes me back?”

Their response: a homogeneous blend of grimaces, “Nope”s, and “Don’t go there”s.

“Cool, cool, that’s what I thought too.”

You need to get yourself out of this predicament before your emotional fate is actually officially, irreversibly, terminally out of your hands.  That means breaking off this… thing with Jade before winter break.

So, drunk on desperation and sleep deprivation, you devise a gameplan:

Step 1: Hold yourself accountable.  Tell your friends that you’re breaking things off with Jade and do not let them down.

Step 2: Meet with Jade.  Schedule a time and place.

Step 3: Finish the job.  Say: “This has been fun, but I’m breaking off whatever this is between us.  Stay away from me until the end of time, please and thank you!”

Emotional freedom in three simple steps.  It’s a foolproof plan!  (And if it feels like you’ve been through this song and dance before, no, you have not.)

At 2 am the day before winter break, you start with Step 1.  Opening your now-second-year group chat, you cursorily text a declaration:

You: i’m gonna break things off with jade today. wish me luck guys

then immediately turn your phone on silent before anyone can respond—if anyone’s even awake (Someone probably is.  Your money’s on Ace)—and conk out instantly.

You jolt awake to the sound of knocking on your bedroom door.  

“Hello?!” you bark.  It’s light outside, and Grim still lies beside you, fast asleep.

“Good morning, Prefect,” the most enchanting voice seeps through the seams of your door.  “You must've overslept your alarm.  Are you decent?  May I come in?”

“Uh, yeah!” you bark out reflexively, scrambling out of bed.  “Wait, no—wait—hold on!  I'm in my pyjamas!”

The door cracks open, and in pops the eel plaguing your mind 24/7.

You both stand there like two cowboys in a standoff.  Jade looks you up and down with his usual smile.  You glare at him.

“Jade.  Out,” you command, closing the gap in an attempt to shoo him out.  He doesn't budge, even when you start shoving against him.

“Fufufu, so this is what you look like when you wake up,” he comments, immovable.  “How cute.”

“Out.”

“Alright,” he chuckles, taking a step back.  But then he places a hand on your head, smoothing your hair down.  “You have bedhead, Prefect.”

You almost lean into his touch.  You nearly forget that you have a plan to follow.  You just barely remember that you're breaking things off with Jade today.

Do not let him change your mind.

Channelling your inner black belt, you seize the wrist of the hand petting your head.  “Are you going to Kalim’s party tonight?”

Eyes wide in surprise, Jade slowly retracts his hand.  “Y-Yes,” he stutters out.  “The Lounge will be closed today, so I expect I will be.”

“Good.  I have something I need to talk to you about.”

He tenses.  “…Should I be concerned?”

“No,” you sigh.  “It’s nothing to you.”

“I see.”

“I’m gonna make you late, so you don’t need to walk me to class today,” you continue when Jade makes no move to leave your room.  “And you don’t need to worry about walking me back, either.”

“…Are you alright?” he enquires after a moment.

You almost laugh.  “Yeah, I’m fine.  I’ll see you later, okay?”

To your chagrin, Jade stares right into your eyes, probably in search of answers you refuse to verbalise.  To shake off the intensity, you dart your eyes in every direction but him: eye contact with Jade is a terrible idea no matter which way you look at it, especially now.

“Have a good day,” you add awkwardly, crossing your fingers that he’ll actually leave soon.

After far too long, he backs away.  “You too, Prefect.  I’ll see you later, then.”

Step 2, done.

As you watch Jade walk alone down the path to the main school building, you’re hit with the nagging feeling that you’re missing something.

Did you forget to do your homework?   No, you weren’t assigned anything for the last day of classes.

The dishes, maybe?   Did you neglect to do those last night?   That’s not it.

Is it someone’s birthday?   No, that’s not it, either.

After 20 minutes of hard thinking, you realise: it’s the kiss.  Jade didn’t kiss you goodbye this time, and it feels horrible.

You’re experiencing fucking Jade Leech kiss withdrawal.

You scream into your pillow.

You show up to Kalim’s party in the evening, fully ready to land the final blow.

The only issue: Jade isn’t here.

You haven’t seen him, none of your friends have seen him, none of the other students you’ve asked have seen him.  He hasn’t texted you, either.

Jade fucking stood you up and it’s totally psyching you out.

You text him

hey where are you

only to get left on read.  He knows.

You call him, even though you don’t expect him to answer.  And sure enough, the phone rings once, twice, three times…

He actually picks up.  To your utter surprise.

“Where are you?” you hiss.

For a silent moment, you think that he might just refuse to humour you, might just hang up now.  But the eel sure has a thing for subverting your expectations.  “…I’d rather not show up for something so… unpleasant.”

“What are you talking about?  Who said anything about ‘unpleasant’?”

“Perhaps you should be more selective in what you tell Grim,” the bane of your existence answers, “seeing as his favour can be bought with just a few cans of premium tuna.”

“Ugh, I'm gonna strangle him.  Why do you have to be so difficult?  Can’t you spare me just this once?”

“I…” He pauses.  “That… wouldn’t be in my best interest.”

“Jade, you’re actually starting to piss me off.  I’m not gonna let you keep stringing me along for your own fucking amusement,” you snap, “and you refusing to show up isn’t gonna change my mind.”

“…Is that what you think I’m doing?” he asks softly.  “‘Stringing you along’?  And here I was, thinking that we were both enjoying ourselves.  Was I mistaken?”

You scoff.  “Yes—no—UGH,” you groan, then try again.  “I’m just gonna come out and say it: you know I like you; I know you don’t actually feel the same.  So I have no reason to keep playing along with you.”

For what feels like a minute, the line is quiet.

“Hello?”

“…I’m here,” he breathes.  “I… You were right.  I think we should discuss this in person.  Have you left Scarabia already?”

“No,” you huff.  “Grim’s still stuffing his face, so I’m waiting in the hall.”

“Good.  I’ll be there in a second.”

“Are you here?”

“Perhaps,” he hums, and you hear the music and chatter of the party grow louder from his end of the phone.  “See you soon.”

Sure enough, Jade takes no more than a minute to find you.

You’re the first to speak.  “So what is it that we needed to discuss in person—”

“You’re wrong.”

Caught off guard by his uncharacteristic brusqueness, you flinch.  “Uh?”

“About how I don’t feel the same.  You’re wrong,” he repeats.  His usual polite mien is nowhere to be found, leaving only raw sincerity.

A nasty bout of hope seizes your heart and clogs your throat.

“If you’re truly set on parting ways, then I can’t stop you,” Jade continues, voice level, “but if the basis of your choice is my supposed lack of… fondness for you, please consider sparing us both the unnecessary misery.”

You scoff shakily.  “Say it straight, Jade.”

“Very well.  I return your affections, Prefect.”

Heart beating a thousand beats per minute, eyes wholly unfocussed, you find your consciousness peeling away from your body and brain.  “…Okay, I’m gonna get going now~” a voice rings in your ears—your voice.

“Where are you going?”

“Dunno…”

Jade steps closer to you and places his hands on your shoulders, maybe in an effort to ground you.  It doesn’t work.  “Shall we continue this conversation later, then?”

You hum.

“Alright, I’ll give you some time,” he whispers, turning to leave.  “Have a good night, Prefect.”

But before he can get far, your hand snags the sleeve of Jade’s blazer.  “…You’re forgetting something.”

“Oya?  And what would that be?”

No words come out, but to your chagrin, your other hand rises…

and points straight at the crown of your head.

What.  Is.  Wrong.  With.  You.

Luckily, with a shake of your head, you do manage to snap out of your stupor before he can honour your request.

Less luckily, not in time to stop him; only enough to feel his lips meet the exact spot where you’d pointed just a second prior.

The touch of his lips is like a shot of epinephrine, the way the warmth diffuses through your bloodstream, head to toe.

Or maybe it’s an injection of poison, killing you slowly but surely.

Well, if this is death, Great Seven, does it feel nice.

You’re dead.

You really died.

Or at least you’re about to.  Because the Grim Reaper is currently in the act of busting down your bedroom door to get to you.  (After that incident with Jade, you started locking your door at night, thank Seven.)

The paintings on the wall swing like pendula.  The junk in your drawer rolls about like water in a hot pan.  You even discover tuna cans that Grim (yours, not the Reaper) hid at some point, inching their way out from beneath furniture with each shake of the room.

But your bed is so comfortable right now…

“Shrimpyyyyy,” whines from behind the quaking door.  “Open sesame!”

…Oh, it’s Floyd.  Which might actually be worse than the Grim Reaper.  But to Floyd’s credit, you would prefer seeing him over his brother right now.

“What do you want, Floyd?” you whine back.  “Go away.”

The pounding only gets more aggressive.  “Open up!”

“No.  Let me sleep.”

“Okaa~ay!  I’mma kick down your door!” Floyd threatens.  “In 5, 4, 3…”

“FINE,” you groan, dragging yourself out of the warm embrace of your duvet.  “I’m coming, I’m coming.  Don’t wreck my house.”

You swing the door open, glaring at the eel on the other side.  “What.”

“Fix Jade,” he blurts, pouting.  “He’s broken.”

Unimpressed, you try to close the door, but Floyd shoves his way past you and into your room.  “That’s just normal Jade,” you sigh.

“No, he’s being weird!  He’s ripping up flowers and speaking in tongues!”

You yawn.  “Sounds normal to me.”

Floyd grimaces.  “Eehhhh… Is Shrimpy always this stubborn?  No wonder Jade’s having such a hard time courtin’ ya.”

“Wha—He’s not—” you sputter, and Floyd takes advantage of your blue-screening to throw you onto his shoulder.  “I’m not—!”

“Uh~huuhhh,” he dismisses, already in full stride.  “Save it for Jade.”

Remember when you thought you’d prefer seeing Floyd over his twin?  Well, you take that back.  As much as Jade likes to make life difficult for you, at least he wouldn’t haul you—clad in only your pyjamas—across campus in broad daylight while it's snowing.  Probably.

After a long, uncomfortable trek on Floyd’s shoulders—shoulders, plural, because he would just toss you onto the other shoulder when one side got tired—you finally make it to Octavinelle.

With little regard for your flailing body, your captor skips down the hall to his twin’s door and kicks it open at the tail end of Jade’s mutterings.

“Got a delivery for ya~”

“…me not,” Jade finishes quietly, attention fixed on the picked-bare flower stem between his fingers.  “Ah, Floyd, you've brought the Prefect.  What a pleasant surprise.”

Though his distaste is directed more at his brother than yourself, Jade’s sarcasm is obvious.  His tone is curter than he uses with you, gaze sharper than what you’re used to, but Floyd is nonetheless unfazed.  He throws you onto Jade’s bed.

Which already has Jade on it.

You are on top of Jade.

“Floyd—!  You—!” you squawk, rolling off of the bed, off of him, hitting the floor with an impressive thud.

Over the edge of the mattress, olive and gold eyes scan over you in fleeting concern.  “…Floyd.”

“You’re welcome!” Floyd spits back with equal irritation.  “Someone needed to fix you before we go home!”  And then he bursts into abrupt giggles, bounding out of the room with the door left just slightly ajar behind him.

The door is still open.  You should follow him out.  Just leave; Jade didn’t invite you here in the first place.

But you don’t.

You stay, sprawled out on your crush’s rug, surrounded by a dense dusting of snow-white petals.  From the sheer amount of them, Jade must’ve plucked over forty giant daisies bare.

The sound of your heart pounding in your ears almost drowns out his murmur.  “Do you need more time?”

You’ve heard Jade weave sarcasm into polite words.  You’ve heard him excitedly info-dump about a passion of his.  Just yesterday, you even heard him nervous and raw.  But to this extent?  Never.

You sit up.  “…I need you to be transparent.”  Your voice is shaking.

“You don’t actually like me, do you?  Or maybe you find me interesting or fascinating or whatever.  But you’re gonna get bored of me, aren’t you?

“If you know this won't go anywhere, then just tell me now,” you plead.  “Please.”

Jade slips off the bed and kneels down to your eye-level—not that it matters when you don’t have the courage to meet his eyes.

Everything depends on his next words; you'll go all in if he says one thing, all out if he says the other.  You might as well just bet your life on a coin toss.

He chuckles without humour nor coldness, “You truly have no faith in me, do you, Prefect?  Since you insist on doubting my feelings, allow me to set the record straight now: I sincerely care for you, and I don’t expect that to change.”

You collapse back onto the floor with liquified muscles, all stress and heartache draining from your bones, gaze falling on the man-sized mushroom plush propped up on a stool in the corner of the room.  Jade has dressed it up with a bow tie.  You throw a hand over your eyes before you can be overwhelmed by the adorable sight.

“Cool, just making sure.  Uh, I… don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Oya?  And you had such a succinct plan to break up with me.  Perhaps you should get into the habit of making contingency plans.”

You guffaw dryly.  “I plan for the worst case scenario so if it doesn’t go according to plan, I can be pleasantly surprised.”

“Are you, then?” Jade asks.  “Pleasantly surprised?”

Your hand begins to fall asleep; you shift your arm back down to a comfortable position.  The sight you’re met with—of Jade smiling back at you with such relief and fondness—ignites the answer in your throat.  “I am.”

The two words come out more watery than you’d expected, and apparently more than Jade had expected too, because he asks, “Are you sure?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re crying,” he notes.

You wipe your eyes with your hand.  “Oh.”

Pulling out a handkerchief, Jade gently blots away your tears.  “May I safely assume that these aren’t tears of sadness?”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, closing your eyes as he pats over them, “sorry.  I just…  I’m super relieved?  I'm not always such a big crybaby, I promise.”

“I know,” he reassures, stroking your hair.  “Though you are a very pretty crier.”

“Jaaade,” you whine, tossing over in embarrassment.

“Oya?  Why so shy?”  He pokes your exposed cheek.  “You act as if we haven’t been dating for the past five months.”

“We haven’t had a label for the past five months.  I’ve been preparing for you to dump me,” you correct.  “Not that we have a relationship to dump in the first place.”

Jade’s fingers brush down to your cheek.  “Shall we fix that?”

“…You wanna be my boyfriend, Jade Leech?”

“Very much so,” he replies in full seriousness.

And so, your fate sealed, Jade gives zero resistance when you pull him down to your side.  He wraps his arms around you, you press your cheek against his chest.  The heart within beats faster than you’d expect.

You still have a question left unanswered, though.

“Jade?”

“Yes?”

“What’s with all the petals?”

He tenses, just barely, just for a millisecond before he melts back into you.  “It’s… a fortune-telling practice.”

“Huh,” you twitter, amused.  “I would’ve thought you’d only need one flower.”

“I would,” Jade agrees, “but curiously, each of the daisies I’ve come across so far has had an even number of petals, and I happen to be looking for a result different from what those ones suggest.”

You chuckle.  “You gonna keep picking?”

He hums, nestling into you as if the floor with your company is the most comfortable spot in the world.  “No need.  I have my answer.”

It's impossible for a person to exist without ever having heard a love song, read a love story, watched a romcom, any or all of the above.  Even so, none of the heart-wrenching melodies, flowery words, or dramatic confessions could ever have prepared you for the pure paradise you’ve been living for the past two months since making your relationship official.

(Wow!  Who knew that life could be so happy when you’re able to love freely!)

Admittedly, Jade hasn’t treated you any differently from how he did before he’d officially become your boyfriend.  He’s always been courteous, considerate, and only a touch concerningly sketchy.

The real difference?  Your ability to actually enjoy it all.

When it comes to you, he somehow always knows, even when you don’t.  The second before your stomach growls, he already has a snack at the ready.  When you feel particularly touchstarved, he wraps you in his arms.  When you trip on a crack in the pavement, he nonchalantly pulls you upright like a knight in shining armour.

And now, you don’t need to worry about declining Jade’s offers, or dodging his touches, or dissociating while in his presence lest you fall further for him.  Now, you’re safe leaning in.

Your friends, on the other hand, are… worried, to say the least.  It’s nothing new; they’ve been this way since before you even started dating Jade, but you thought they’d at least get used to it by now.

Apparently, you were wrong.

Last week, they tried to inconspicuously block you from spotting Jade in the halls.  To no avail, of course: it's impossible for a barricade of guys lined up shoulder-to-shoulder to not arouse suspicion.

Yesterday, while you and Jade walked hand-in-hand through the courtyard, Sebek Red Rover’ed his way right through your joined hands.  You hadn’t even seen him coming.

And today, as Jade walked the path to Ramshackle to meet you in the morning, Epel leapt out of a bush to football tackle him to the ground.  Luckily, the blanket of snow cushioned their fall, but in an ideal world, you wouldn’t have a boyfriend-shaped imprint on your lawn at all.

Naturally, you pull said boyfriend inside to warm him up, and the feisty little perpetrator sprints off before you can question him, let alone scold him.

“How cruel,” Jade laments without any real chagrin, pouting and shivering in an exaggerated show of pitifulness.  “With my fragile disposition, I’m afraid I have hypothermia.”

“You grew up in subzero waters, you melodramatic eel.”  You tenderly brush the snow from his nose and lashes.  “But I'm sorry I let it get this far.  I’ll talk with them today.”

He preens under your touch like an overgrown cat.  “If anything, I find it most reassuring that you have such loyal friends.  As for myself, however,” he puts back on a dramatic pout, “my nose is still so terribly cold, it'll be frostbitten if I leave it be.  Won't you please remedy that?”

His frigid cheeks nestled comfortably between your warm palms, Jade’s expectant gaze is impossible to ignore and equally impossible to misinterpret.

So you lean in, bringing your lips ever closer to the tip of his nose…

and cup your hand over it.

“Ah, how romantic,” the eel sighs dreamily.  Like this was what he'd wanted all along.  “I'm feeling much better already.”

“Happy to hear it.”

As if it were a campfire, everyone gathers around the gaming setup that Ortho brought over.  Not you, though—you lurk in the corner—until the robot cinnamon roll himself shines the spotlight on you.

“Prefect!  You’ve been standing there for twelve minutes, and you’re exhibiting physical signs of anxiety.  Are you okay?”

At your silence, the other former first-years (now second-years) pause their game and turn to also look at you.  “Ugh, how do I say this…”

You huff, shuffling closer to sit crosslegged on the floor before them.  “Jade.  You guys are bullying him.”

Seven pairs of eyes blink at you; you blink back.

When they give no verbal response, you press on.  “I know you guys have your thoughts about him—and I get it, I do—but he’s also my boyfriend now.  And you guys are my friends, and I care for you all, so… what’s going on?

“Has he done something to you recently?  Am I not spending enough time with you guys?  What… What do you need for this to work?”

The seven pairs of eyes blink at you again, then at each other, then at you again.

Sebek breaks the silence first.  “Does he care about this as much as you do?”

“About what?  The teasing?” you assume.  “No, definitely not.”

“The relationship,” Ace corrects.

It stings, your friends’ lack of confidence in you and your judgement.  But on the other hand, you know it comes from a place of care and concern.

Jack clears his throat.  “You really care about him, Prefect.  If he doesn’t actually feel the same way, that’s a problem.”

“He does,” you say desperately.  “You’re just gonna have to trust me on that.  He hasn't done anything sketchy since we started dating, and believe me, I’ve been looking.”

“It ain’t that we don’t trust ya, Prefect,” Epel responds.  “It’s him we’re worryin’ about.”

You sigh.  “I get that, but we’re together now.  Could you guys play nice, just for my sake?”

The seven pairs share one more look.

“I’ll think about it.  Especially if he brings tuna.”

“Alright…”

“Sure.”

“Fiiiine.”

“Of course!”

“If you insist.”

“But if anything does happen, we’ll be here.”

“That’s all I'm asking,” you smile.  “Thanks, guys.”

Sure enough, one day passes without incident, then two, then three, and before you know it, Valentine’s Day rolls around.  And boy, have you been preparing for this day.

You’re armed and ready with chocolate.  So.  Much.  Chocolate.

Chocolates filled with caramel for your friends.  90% cocoa dark chocolate for other friends.  Hollow white chocolate eggs coated in a thin layer of milk chocolate and with a surprise toy inside (the best kind), for other other friends.  Slightly-botched-but-still-edible homemade chocolates for your distant acquaintances.  Severely-botched-so-you-leaned-into-it-and-added-laxatives chocolates for your enemies.

And last but far from least, homemade mushroom-shaped chocolates for the boyfriend, in four different flavours.

Once you've personally delivered your greater haul to the doors of each of your friends, all that’s left is Octavinelle, home of your ultimate recipient.  You find Azul and Floyd working in the Lounge—busy with the influx of customers expected during a Valentine’s Day promotional event on a weekend—and give them their gifts: a set of your finest, most potent laxative (jk.  or am i) chocolates for Azul, an assorted pack of novelty chocolates from Sam’s for Floyd.

As for Jade, he'd somehow managed to convince his housewarden into letting him take the day off.  The details aren’t worth fretting over: you’re simply grateful to have him to yourself today.

Funny enough, as you walk down the hall toward Jade’s room, it feels as if someone’s watching you.  But each time you turn, nothing’s there.  Hmm.

You tuck the box of chocolates coyly behind your back and tap your knuckles twice against the door.  He’s been waiting for you: if you couldn’t tell from the haste in which he opens the door, then the antsy little smile on his face would surely give it away.

“Hi, Jade.”

“Hello, my dear Prefect.  Do you have something for me?”

“Well, aren’t you cocky,” you grin, withdrawing the heart-shaped box from behind you and placing it in his waiting hands.  “Happy Valentine’s.”

“Happy Valentine’s,” he parrots, lifting the lid with a tiny gasp.  “Mushroom-shaped…?”

“Did I go overboard?  I almost put them in a mushroom-shaped box too, but I was worried you’d think it was Mushroom Day, not Valentine’s.  For the record, I know you’re more than just ‘mushroom man’, but—”

“It’s perfect.”

A cacophony of thumps and yelps from down the hall draws away your attention.

You sigh like a weary parent of seven when you spot them.  “I told them to behave—”

“It’s alright,” Jade chuckles, merely withdrawing into the room to grab a stack of… envelopes?  “Allow me to handle this.”

“Jade Leech, if you’re blackmailing my friends, I will fry you alive.”

“I'd do nothing of the sort!” he laughs, prying off the hand with which you'd subconsciously gripped his arm.  “No need to worry.  I’ll be back in just a moment.”

So you watch from the doorway as your boyfriend eerily approaches your dogpiled gaggle of idiots.  They’re too far and Jade’s voice too quiet for you to hear, but as the latter hands them the ominous envelopes, their feelings are clear as day.

You follow your friends’ journey of expressions, beginning with fear, morphing to confusion, then shock, and settling into joy before they roll off of each other and shuffle back down the hall with such excitement you’d think they won the lottery.  Ace even throws you a quick thumbs up.

Your eel returns with a satisfied smile, summoning a pouch that couldn’t fit in his pocket.  He presents it with a flourish: magical sparkles and pink hearts that float about like bubbles in the air.  “And for you.”

“Jade…”  You gingerly take the sachet and open it, revealing chocolates in your favourite flavour.  But that aside: “Did you just pay my friends a dowry?”

“My, such marital language!  I had no idea you’d set your sights so far ahead.”

Your blood runs cold.  Too much.  “Wait, I—Not like—!”

“To think that we haven’t even had our first kiss yet,” he prattles on, ignoring your protests completely.  “Marriage!  How scandalous, fufufu.”

Right.  It’s near impossible to weird out (or outweird) Jade Leech.

Your face contorts into a cringe, whether at his antics or at yourself for finding him even remotely charming, indeterminable.  “Alright, buddy.  I’m starting to think you’ll never experience either of those things.”

“And if it wasn’t enough to tease me with the dream of marriage, you threaten to deprive me of your affection.  Poor, unfortunate me, to have fallen for someone so cruel.  Boo hoo.”

Your grimace is impossible to maintain as his brows furrow and his lips press into a dramatic, irritatingly adorable pout.

His.

Lips.

…Nope.  You’re not about to reward him for his bullshit.

You press a chocolate into his mouth and nudge him away by the forehead.

“You sure live up to your name, Leech.”

“There’s no one I'd rather be stuck to,” he hums with his mouth full, “though I did intend for these chocolates to be eaten by you.”

If you tasted him now…

…Nope x2.

You stash away the sweets and leave, holding your hand out beside you until Jade inevitably catches up to you and slips his fingers into yours.

“Now this feels familiar, doesn’t it?”

You squeeze Jade’s mittened hand in silent agreement.  As you walk hand-in-hand through the harbour, you’re reminded of your first date in the Kingdom of Roses.  Though this time, instead of summer fare and games, it’s… lovey-dovey stuff.

Each shop has a Valentine’s promotional deal, game stalls host challenges for couples to test their bond, pop-up vendors sell charms for ‘everlasting love’.  And people actually showed up for this bogus.

You could’ve sworn there weren’t this many people on this tiny island, but everyone must’ve come up from RSA since they’re mushy like that (ew).  Can’t relate, you think, ogling your boyfriend whenever you think he’s not looking.  (He always is, to both your embarrassment and your pleasure.)

Jade gestures with your joined hands at a nearby booth.  “They’re giving out free lip balm at that booth there.”

“Free?”  Enough said.  “Lead the way.”

When you reach the front of the line, you realise that it’s not exactly for free, per se.

“So here’s how it works,” the brand ambassador explains.  “I’m going to give one of you a cotton swab with a secret flavour, and the other will have to correctly guess the flavour for you to get your free lip balms.  Sound good?”

The Chapstick Challenge.

“Excellent,” chirps your scheming boyfriend, clearly unsurprised by this information and far too pleased with himself.

“Uh huh,” you grumble, exercising your nastiest side-eye.

You snatch the cotton swab yourself before Jade gets any more ideas.  For a split second, you consider applying it to yourself… but no.

Grasping his chin with your free hand, you trace his lips with the applicator.  Frictionless, it glides over the peachy skin and leaves behind an even film of balm.

“You slimy eel,” you whisper, deep in concentration.  “You’re not chapped at all.”

Smug eyes are what you expect to see when you look up.  Instead, his eyes are blown wide and dazed.  Heh.

“Here goes!” you announce louder than needed.  Then, angling yourself to block the worker’s view, you bring your face ever closer to Jade’s, lips ever closer to his…

Just enough to catch a whiff of the balm.

You whip back around before your lips can touch.  “Lavender vanilla?”

“Yes, that’s right!  Here’s your prize!”

You’re forced to tug your eel by the hand to get him moving again.

“I’ve fallen for a tease,” he sighs after five minutes.

“Well I’ve fallen for a swindler,” you titter back.  “C’mon, my swindler, I know you’re hungry.  Let’s go get some food, hmm?”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Because Fate hates you, you happen to lead your boyfriend into a pasta restaurant where the owners greet you so warmly, you're now morally obligated to stay and order something.

And of course, because Cupid hates you too, this restaurant has a promotional deal: finish a bowl of one (1, singular) ultra long spaghetto with your significant other to get 30% off your meal.  Jade’s eyes regain their light (read: cunning gleam) upon hearing this.  You, on the other hand, do not want to have your first kiss over a literal noodle.

But 30% off the meal…  And the only conditions are that you finish in under five minutes and eat from one end of the noodle?

Of course you accept the challenge, to your eel’s poorly concealed excitement.

So the waiter brings out the manhole-cover-sized dish, Jade bites one end of the noodle, you the other, and the timer starts.

End held between your lips, you glance casually at the waiter, who stares back at you with bewilderment.  You glance back at Jade, who stares back at you with determination.  He’s already halfway through the pasta by the 1-minute mark.

You feel just a little bad when the intact end of the noodle slips from your lips, vacuumed straight into the maw of your resigned boyfriend.

“Uh, wow…!” the waiter nods, baffled.  “You finished in 2:11, so I guess that’s a success?”

“Sorry for being a poor sport,” you chuckle.  “I’m sure you guys expect your participants to kiss, but my boyfriend here is just ravenous today so I thought he’d appreciate the extra portion.”

“Oh, n-no, that's fine!  A lot of people try the challenge with their friends and we don't ask them to kiss, obviously,” the waiter rambles.  “Uh, I'm just shocked that he ate all that on his own… and so quickly?  It takes pairs at least four minutes!”

“And he’s still hungry, believe it or not!”  Being seated side-by-side, it’s easy to peck Jade on the cheek.  “Incredible, isn’t he?  I’m so lucky to have him.”  You pointedly play up the goo-goo eyes, amused at the way his eyes glaze over in defeat.

Of course you’d like to kiss him.

But so would he, and it’s good to make your eel work for what he wants, just once in a while.  Enrichment’s healthy!

Jade’s resolve is wavering just a little.

“Look over there, my loving Valentine,” he notes with sarcastic monotony, “it’s a kissing contest.”

Subtle.

“So it is.”

“I’d imagine it would be very cathartic to express one’s affection so freely.  Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I would.”

He stops in front of you, eyeing your lips.  “Oya?  Then what are we waiting for?”

Smirking, you clasp your bare hands behind the eel’s neck; his amber eye shines ever brighter with hope.  But to his chagrin, your attention is pulled elsewhere.  “Wait, there’s a photo booth!”

“Ah.  I’ve heard about those.  I’ve still yet to try one.”

“There’s a first time for everything!” you pipe, beelining for the amenity.

It’s four photos to a strip and two copies are printed: you take one and sunnily slot the other between your eel’s frozen fingers.

The first photo is comedically tacky, as intended.  Your right and Jade’s left hands form the stiff, distinct shape of a heart; you don the most awkward grin you could muster, he wears his signature polite-and-nothing-more smile.  It looks like you’re both terrible actors being held at gunpoint to play the role of a lovey-dovey couple.

The second photo shows the aftermath of performing such a terrible (albeit deliberate) display: the left half blurred with candid laughter (yours) and the right half still and calm (Jade).  He’s smiling, genuinely, half-lidded eyes fondly trained on your dynamic visage.

The third photo is a snapshot summary of today.  Jade leans in toward you, his desires clear, and you press your fingers over his lips in a gentle rejection.  He looks at you with acceptance and affection; you look back with an amused grin (and equal fondness).

The fourth photo is Jade’s favourite.  Well, actually, he hasn't seen it yet.  But once he regains his senses, you have no doubt!

After all, it's the picture of your first kiss: chaste and sweet and picture-perfect.

You wake in the morning to a voice message from Floyd in the middle of the night, whining about how his brother is broken again; Jade won’t stop giggling and grinning in his sleep.  And sure enough, when the former swung his phone closer to the source of the sound…

“…mmm…again…fufufu…”

Cute.

Cute.

You make sure to download and back up the recording in at least five different locations, for safekeeping.

Stupid Ace jinxed you.

“He’s gonna be too busy being a vice-housewarden and thinking about his internship!”

That’s what Ace said back in September!

…Okay, maybe it’s not Ace’s fault.  But it’s also not Jade’s fault.  Nor is it yours.

It’s everything else’s fault.

The arrival of spring marks the beginning of a storm of projects, labs, and mock exams leading up to finals in June.  And on top of all that, your boyfriend has vice-housewarden duties and the Lounge and internship applications to worry about.

‘Worry’, of course, being relative; he seems to be managing just fine.  And that’s the worst part, ashamed as you are to admit it.

Because he’s fine without you.

Does he miss you even a fraction as much as you miss him?

Would he be just as happy if you’d never confessed to him?

Oh Seven.  If you’re like this already… how are you going to manage next year when you’re even farther apart?

You should be happy for him, happy that he’s doing well; you should have more faith in your relationship, be less insecure and clingy and insufferable.  But as the weeks pass and your paths cross less and less, catching the rare sight of him from across the hall feels more painful than it should.

You don’t tell Jade any of this; no need to make a mess of things when he’s got more important things to deal with.  At the very least, it can wait until after exams are done.

And things could always be worse!

Case in point: the annual Starsending ceremony being thrown into the mix.

First off, finals season and the weeks leading up to it are already stressful.  As fun as it is to wish upon a star, unfortunately, finishing that essay worth 35% and due in five hours might just take higher priority.

Plus, you'd completely forgotten this tradition existed.  It's only your second year in this world, after all, so excuse you for not being used to all the new customs.  You also didn’t make a wish last year, so the memory of the ceremony must've been thrown to the back of your mind—buried under all the overblots, perhaps!

It certainly didn’t help either to receive the reminder no more than a week before the ceremony.  The three unfortunate souls chosen to be Stargazers will have their work cut out for them.

And just who are the selected Stargazers?  (Take a guess!)  The horoscopes this year landed on November 5th—Jade and Floyd’s birthday—

and your birthday.  Congrats.

One after another, Crowley assigns you the position of Stargazer, the role of drummer in the ceremony itself, and the traditional Stargazer uniform (which is very… attention-grabbing).

“…Do I really have to wear this outside the ceremony?”

“Why, of course!  Haven’t you heard of the phrase, ‘dress for success’?” the Headmage replies with theatrical enthusiasm, then sobers.  “A Stargazer out of uniform would leave a lasting bad impression.  I'd be sure not to forget it.”

You shudder.

By the time you’ve gotten changed and swapped Grim’s ribbon to match, Jade has already magically donned his own uniform, and Floyd is… nowhere to be found.  No surprises there.

But back to Jade: your eyes skim right over the uniform itself and hone in on b a r e   s h o u l d e r s .

The muscles flex, rolling back in a smooth wave, taunting.

“My,” Jade giggles coyly behind his naked hand, “your gawking has me feeling incredibly flustered.”

Voiceless, you tug the dropped sleeves of his cape up and over the curve of his shoulders; they fall helplessly back down to their original position, ornate embroidery framing flawless skin.  Damn it.

The eel cocks his head, chin resting against loose fist.  “Is there something wrong with my appearance?” he coos, like he doesn’t already know.

You lean forward, muffling your exasperated groan in layers of (boyfriend) material.  Your heart has been aching lately, but the sweetness in Jade’s chuckle and the way he cradles your head against him soothes the sting. 

Through luck and madness, you somehow survive.  Three unit tests, an alchemy practical, Starsending ceremony rehearsals, the collection of hundreds of Wishing Stars, and you’re still alive.

Between your reputation (respected as the dependable Prefect and/or feared as Jade Leech’s partner) and threats incentives (brandishing Grim as a flamethrower and/or mentioning your boyfriend by name), the latter went smoother than you’d expected.

The process is simple: confront the target, demand they declare their wish, witness their Wishing Star light up with magic, collect it, and hang it up on the designated tree behind the school.

By Friday, all the stars have been collected and hung but Jade’s; a total happenstance—or so you thought.  He clearly had different plans.

When the eel opens his door to you the next morning, you're hit with a small but uncharacteristic bout of fear.

“…Jade.”

“Yes, my star?”

“Seven,” you flinch at the new, festive pet name, and his gleaming eyes crinkle into delighted crescent moons.  But nevermind the nickname, “Why are you wearing that?”

The ceremonial clothes.  Pretty shoulders out there for all (you) to see.

“To collect your Wishing Star, of course.”

“No,” you drawl incredulously, “I’m collecting your star.”

Silence from Jade; the cattish grin on his face speaks for itself: Plans change.

You squint back.  “Well, Floyd took my wish already.”

He hums, unconvinced.  “Your wish, or Grim’s wish?  I’m aware that the Headmage provided only one Wishing Star to share between you.”

“It’s worth more to him than to me.  I don't mind.”

“I do.”  He slips a jagged weight into your open palm, supporting your hand with his own.  “Make your wish.  We’ll light it with my magic.”

Void of magic, the magestone—Jade’s Wishing Star—is dark save for the hairline veins, smoky white, running through the mineral like rippling seafoam.  Each of the uneven edges presses a soothing kiss to the nerves in your fingers.

A dismissive chuckle breezes past your teeth.  Laying your heart bare for a casual tradition isn’t exactly an appealing idea.  A throwaway, then: “I wish you’d wear normal clothes.”

The dusky glasslike stone stays unlit.

Jade titters, “Come now, don't waste our wish.”

“What do you mean?  That’s what I want.”

He tips your chin to meet his eyes.  “It’d be a shame if we resorted to my unique magic to know your true wish.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” he concedes, returning his hand to cradle yours.  “I’ll be saving that for a more important question.”

You get a rush of tingles for some indiscernible reason.  “Ominous,” you laugh.

He sighs sweetly.  Such softness in his gaze, you’d think he was looking at a particularly freaky mushroom but no, he’s looking at you.

Oh.  It's the way he looks at you that gives you the tingles.  And also maybe the way he touches you.  And—

Great Seven, you've been dating this eel for almost a year now; shouldn't you be less lovesick by now?  Less distraught when you're apart?  Less smitten by his mere existence?

This whole tradition, these Wishing Stars are purely symbolic.  It won’t matter whether you wish to grow another 20 centimetres in height, or to do well in your finals, or for Jade to cover his damn shoulders.  A silly wish won't overwrite reality.

But something about him makes you want to wish wholeheartedly anyway.

What to wish for, though?

‘For your internship to be fruitful’?  Only a fraction of what you truly want.

‘To live the rest of my life in your arms’?  …Tone it down a notch, pal.

‘That Azul would stop giving you so many shifts at the Lounge’?  Okay, now you’re just griping.

You sigh, “I don’t know how to word it.”

“Is that so?” he hums with an impish grin, removing his hands.  “Or are you simply self-censoring?

“Would it help if I told you that I love you?  Or that I suffer in your absence?”

´(º—º)`

Kaput! goes your heart, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH goes your brain.

“Jade, what—”

“I suppose I’ll suggest something, then,” he interrupts.  “Do let me know if I’m on the wrong track.

“‘We wish for the next year to be kind to us, and for any time we spend apart to pass in the blink of an eye.’  Is that alright?”

With wide eyes, you nod.

“Wonderful.”  He places his hands back around yours and recites the wish; this time, the star sparks alight like striking a match.  You’ve watched this process over a hundred times now, but it feels different this time: more brilliant, more meaningful.

The glowing centre of the magestone shines gold like Jade’s left eye, and at the pointed edges, fades into a soothing teal the same soothing teal as Jade’s hair.  Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

You open your mouth.  “Jade—”

“Shall we go hang this—”

“Shush for just a second, will you?!” you bark, shaking him like a broken vending machine by the lapels of his cape; obediently, his mouth snaps shut.  “We’re not just breezing by that!”

“…by what?” your eel feigns innocence.

Even as you glare at him—him with his knowing, expectant, self-satisfied little smile (stupid, stupid, stupid)—you can’t even manage to find him any less adorable.

“I hate you,” you lie, but the sweet kisses you press to his cheeks, his nose, his forehead each confess I love you, I love you, I love you.

 Just before meeting his, your lips bespeak your true reply: “I love you too.”

Crowley’s year-end homily feels shorter this time; maybe that’s because you now have the clarity to actually listen.  He probably reuses the same script every year, not that it's particularly remarkable: “What a pleasure it’s been to foster the academic progress of so many fledging mages!” and “This year has been fruitful for all of us!” and whatnot.

With the conclusion of the ceremony, you scoop Grim up and follow the flow with your clump of friends, yelling to each other about your summer plans as to be heard through the raucous crowd.

When you spot your boyfriend waiting for you in the courtyard and announce, “Bye, guys!  Have a good summer!” your friends are all sunny smiles and laughs.  Not a hint of stress to be found in your group, no concerns for your judgement, no suggestions or offers for alternative plans. Even Grim, who’s coming with you, has (close to) no complaints.

“Have a good summer,” they simply parrot, “invite us over sometime!”

One year ago, you confessed to Jade Leech.  You did it with logic at heart, but faulty logic in practice.

And yet as he peers back at you with adoration in his eyes, one hand jingling a pair of keys to a flat—to your flat in Ultramarine City—and the other hand outstretched for you to take, you can’t help but wonder why you ever doubted this contingency at all.

initial concept inspired by schoenpepper’s “Jade Leech and the Three Breakups” (deactivated; reblog to view the full fic) and cannedpickledpeaches’ “Sad Poems but I Choose to Interpret Them as Happy” :)  honourable mention to rel124c41’s many masterful fics (like this one, this one, and these ones) which simultaneously fed and fuelled my cravings for jade :’0  sorry for being so annoying but her works were genuinely the biggest reason i could finish this mess with any sanity remaining whatsoever

edit: oh my god i forgot to fix the part after the kiss where it's implied jade and floyd are still sleeping in the same bedroom. FUCK. please pretend one of the following:

a) floyd felt like sleeping over and so jade let him stay

b) floyd barged into jade's room at 2 am and the latter slept through it

c) floyd hears him through the walls because jade is in fact yelling in his sleep, which you somehow find "cute" (this one's my favourite)