he catches you in something of his, nicknames you'd receive, diluc, thoma & gorou scenarios, those three words (xiao), kaeya, thoma & kazuha nsfw, kisses turned moles
twisted wonderland ᯓ★
roses (riddle), the names that stuck, riddle, vil, silver & azul kisses, the small things he does, the last person you expected (leona), the small things pt. 2, the small things pt. 3, kissin him stupid, kissin him pt. 2, special features, soulmates
you like to believe the old story that moles are placed where your lover would kiss the most in your past life, and it got you thinking, where would the moles be in your next life?
a.n; it totally hasn't been three years since my last genshin post... nooooo.... soooo a little love for them is way past due
kazuha leans over and kisses the corners of your lips more often than not. he loves to pause between verses of poems or breaks in conversations to bring you close and ghost his lips over yours before leaving a kiss on the corner, almost teasingly. he's quite satisfied with himself when you chase him for more but he backs away as if nothing happened. however, he's not so smug if you pull him back by the shirt for more.
kinich will sooner swing ajaw into the sky before voluntarily admitting he loves kissing your nose most. it allows him to be close to you, to study your features, the colour of your eyes, how they react when he's so close. though he'll keep that to himself, you're able to see the levels of adoration in his eyes when he's close. the tenderness in each kiss to your nose, the bridge, and the spot between your eyebrows.
alhaitham will have you sit in front of him so he can rest his chin on your shoulder as he reads most nights. between pages or long chapters he'll shift slightly and kiss the top or back of your shoulder, sometimes leaving his lips lingering on your skin to feel the heat flush through your skin. you feel his smirk on your skin and jokingly threaten to sleep on the couch.
xiao presses featherlight kisses to your forehead before he leaves and after he sees you again. whether it's in the privacy of your home or the solace of wangshu inn, he's quick to leave the promises left untold before vanishing. if he returns and you're asleep, he'll still honour his routine, just lighter, careful not to wake you, especially if you sleep light like he does.
wriothesley often kisses your knuckles like a king does to his consort. he'll gently raise your hand up to his lips and press light kisses into the skin of your fingers after a long day in the fortress signing papers and overseeing inmate after inmate. wriothesley will duck his head down and begin to kiss up your arm until he's close enough to reach your lips, all simply because it's been "too long" since he'd seen you.
kaeya finds the bones of your cheeks to be perfect to place kisses upon. the bone, skin and muscle are all responsive to his touch, making you smile because of his kiss. he adores making you happy, loves your smile, your laugh. other knights tease him, but he's the one that gets to come back to you after work, or drinks, to your arms that fit him so perfectly.
lyney likes to sink into your neck, kissing away any post-show jitters. he doesn't know why but having you backstage after a show makes him feel a lot better, though it's not like he doubts his own abilities, or that of lynette. he simply finds the crook where your shoulder meets your neck to be very, very inviting.
childe reaches for your hands a lot. he'll fidget with your fingers, or draw shapes on your palm before pressing quick pecks on the skin of your palms. he finds them to be a great storybook, formed by years in your profession, each bend and mark carved from past work. he'll kiss any scars, bruises, or imperfections with care, sometimes subconsciously, sometimes with purpose.
diluc wakes you each morning with a kiss between your jaw and ear, and a whispered promise of a beautiful day. he'll do the same if you come to visit him in angel's share, he'll confidently press kisses into your jaw but will instantly become less confident if someone, anyone, mentions it to him or attempts to tease him for it. he's the one with the alcohol, not his patrons, he'll cut them off without another word.
itto can't stay in one spot, he's always bounding around inazuma. the same goes for giving you affection. his hands are always roaming and his lips don't stay in one spot too long. maybe in your next life you'll have too many moles to count, or they might turn into freckles, but only time will tell.
"come lay down," you yawn, turning over in the bed to face your husband who's practically got his nose stuck to the computer screen. he's been there far too long, working away on a report that looks far too much for a single person.
"i will, i will," he rubs at his eyes, leaning onto the back of the mesh chair. "only thing is, this should have been done an hour ago but-"
"the co-worker you were assigned isn't contributing, i know." you finish his sentence for him since he's been complaining about it for the past three days (rightfully so). you're a sliver more awake now, so you swing your legs out of the warm comforter and make your way to the simple wooden desk where your husband sits on the black wheely chair. the cool air makes you shiver just slightly.
he turns to ask what you're doing, but you've already got your hands on the back of the chair, wheeling it away from the desk. your husband is quick to react, grabbing the edge of the desk, clattering the keyboard against the mouse on accident, causing him to lose his grip. so now, he's being unwillingly wheeled towards the bed. you stop at the foot, releasing the chair at the same time.
"it's already an hour late, my love. HR has most likely left their computers, it can be turned in tomorrow." you lean your chin on the top of his head after you speak and you feel his posture start to sink further into the chair.
"i..." he straightens back up, "suppose you're right." he lifts himself off the desk chair. you step back so he can wheel it back and shut the PC off.
you're already back in bed by the time your husband is finished changing into a simple pair of plaid pants and a loose fitting shirt. you open your arms as he approaches, inviting him into your embrace. he graciously accepts your offer, melting into your warmth mixed with the thick comforter. he tucks his head between your jaw and collarbone, wrapping an arm around your middle and sighing softly.
as the two of you slowly slip into sleep, you feel him draw gentle letters on the skin of your arm. with nimble concentration, you're able to make out what he's spelling. you push the hair away and press a kiss to his forehead, "i love you too."
highschool tooru oikawa who promises he'll always be by your side, through thick and thin. the two of you carve out your initials on an old tree trunk like some cheesy romcom in a secret spot you found only days before. he's elated when you tell him on graduation day that you've been accepted to the same college he'll be going to the following school year.
college tooru who plays for the japan national team. he's having a blast with old and new friends and old rivals, and you in the stands, cheering him on as the games go on. there are nights when you sneak into his dorm, or he into yours, where you stay up way later than you should, getting to know each other over and over again.
pro volleyball player tooru who moves to argentina despite his promises. through sadness and a tear or two he swears he'll come back as often as he can, but you know it'll be hard during his seasons. six months in, you end up making a surprise visit during his playoff games. he catches sight of you in the stands like college and is filled with mixed emotions because he's going to have to refund the plan ticket that leaves tomorrow. after the games, which they won, he drops to one knee in the middle of the floor in the heat of the moment, asking you to make him the happiest player on the court.
fiancé tooru who proposes properly when the two of you are back home a week later, like he planned. he takes you to the secluded spot you found back in highschool, it's decorated and dimly lit. after some reminiscing and wine he slips the wedding band over your finger again, and no, he's not crying. you are. when he returns to argentina, you go with him this time. (he wears his ring on a chain around his neck, tucked into his shirt during games even though he knows he's not supposed to. but he can't help it, you're his lucky charm.)
w/ riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, & malleus in part one: meeting your soulmate.
“i learnt about this in school as a kid, but didn’t know it could… cross dimensions?”
most go their entire lives with little to no hope of finding their cosmically assigned second half, but there's always a chance.
you don’t see your string until you come into physical contact with your soulmate for the first time. a red string will tie itself on your left pinky, unable to ever be removed but it feels as if its never there. the featherlight tickle of the string always reminds you that you've found the one thing a lot of people would lay down their life for.
a.n; 7.6k words total ~ 1.1k each so buckle up for a long post
riddle never really thought much on the idea of a soulmate. his mother taught him that he’d have no need for one, to push the idea out of his head. but it stuck. it stuck to him in the back of his mind, that there was someone out there, and the slim chance he had to meet them kept his hope aflame.
riddle and his crew of cards were some of the first people you actually met in the wonderland. you took him as some sort of rule enforcing, crazy man for the first few days until you realize he really just likes making sure everything stays in order.
headmage crowley had sent you on a few back and forth missions for him recently, which always led you to the same heartslabyul dorm each time, specifically to riddle or trey if the housewarden was busy or unavailable.
you rap your knuckle against the large front door and are instantly greeted by ace, who happens to look like he’s in a major rush. he greets you quickly, then speeds past you like he’s tardy for something. he probably is.
you shrug and let yourself into the dorm building, “hello?” you voice echoes off the walls of the oddly empty halls. you take the chance to look around a little more closely than before, you notice there are signs pointing to many different directions on the same stem, but they all point to places leading to walls or doors. strange.
there are many paintings hung on the tall, red wrapped walls. some are of animals, like flamingos and hedgehogs, others are of people. you notice there are a lot of one plump lady with a small yet tall crown upon her head. must be the queen of hearts.
someone clears his throat behind you. “i see you’ve let yourself in.” you whirl around and are met with riddle’s stern look. not quite disapproving, but you can’t quite place the look he’s attempting to flatten you with.
“well, ace technically let me in?” you gnaw on your bottom lip, realizing how stupid that sounds.
“right. i see you were looking at the pictures on the walls, have any caught your attention?” the housewarden lifts an eyebrow, before scanning the nearby paintings and various pieces of decoration filling the hallway.
you turn to the large portrait of who you assume is the queen of hearts, “yeah, this one.” you take in the details, her mouth is open as if she’s commanding the various card soldiers by her side. you notice they’re all a perfect match to a deck of cards. spade, diamond, heart, and clover soldiers march together in perfect unison at the queen’s orders.
behind her is a large castle surrounded by tall shrubs in varying shapes resembling animals and many red rose bushes. something about this painting feels vaguely familiar.
“ah, yes. that is actually my favourite painting in this hall– the main focus of it is the queen of hearts. she was a strict ruler who ruled over her land. she kept everything in order with her army of card soldiers who followed her loyally. i believe that is because if one of them was out of line, she declared immediate beheading.” riddle looks fondly up at the painting, as if reminiscing over someone lost.
you step closer to the painting, almost close enough you could see the brushstrokes if you squint hard enough. “she kind of… looks like she would fit in here. i think she would like the roses.”
“you’re not wrong.” you glance at riddle, catching the small smile he’s wearing as he stares up at the old painting. riddle wipes the smile away swiftly, turning to you. “so, prefect. if i may be so curious, what brings you here today?”
“right! right, that. headmage crowley said…” you pause, “wait, what did he say.” you mumble, turning away slightly to think. “did he…? yes, he wanted me to relay a message. for… some reason.”
“that message is?”
“‘tell housewarden rosehearts that we are expecting a new delivery of riding gear by next week.’ ” you mock crowley's voice to the best of your abilities, turning back to riddle, then continuing. “there’s horses here?”
“yes, there’s multiple. i’m in the equestrian club with some other students. i could show you some time if you are interested.” riddle’s smooth, almost uninterested voice gets a little softer when he goes on, “i dare say i have a favourite, she’s quite kind.”
you hold out your hand, offering a promising handshake. “it’s a deal, housewarden rosehearts: you show me the horses sometime.”
the redhead cracks a small smile, “please, riddle is fine.” he takes your hand, “sometime it is-”
he stops mid phrase. small red glitters start emitting from your interlaced hands, falling but not quite hitting the floor. they disappear moments after they appear. the twinkling glitters capture the light coming from the nearby window, they shine bright before dying like an oxygenless fire.
riddle’s breath hitches in his throat, frantic eyes meeting your equally blown ones. both of you want to rip your hands away, to go back five minutes ago, but neither moves. the glittering stops moments later. you’re the first to slowly peel your hand from riddle’s, breaking eye contact, you look down to your left hand. there sits a neatly tied bow, perfectly symmetrical, perfectly placed for all to see.
riddle copies you, examining his own left hand. a matching red bow sits tied on his pinky. despite his mind screaming at him to leave, to ignore fate, he decides to test the waters of the universe. he gently grasps your left hand with his right, when you make no move to take back control, he slowly moves your hands together.
a light tickle is felt as the string unwinds and begins reaching towards riddle, more specifically, towards his string, which is also unwinding and reaching for its second half. your heart is hammering against your ribs as you watch fate’s cruel display of affection.
you’re sure riddle can share the sentiment of cruelty. you’ve known riddle for a total of less than a month, and hey, has anyone mentioned that you’re not from this universe? no? maybe they should.
your breath comes out slow and ragged, words fail to form as you attempt to say something, anything, to who was just a friend minutes ago.
“i-i think, i uh, hear grim calling. i need to go.”
“uh, yes, yes. i will… be in touch about the horses. if you’re still interested.” riddle’s voice trails off as his confidence wavers with each word while he watches you leave. you look back over your shoulder to riddle, to your cosmic partner.
riddle has no need for a soulmate, right?
you have no idea what you’re going to do about this.
leona never really put his hopes in a soulmate. he knew after he graduated that he’d go back to the sunset savanna and be the second prince once again. though he often milked the ‘prince’ title, he loathed the idea of falling into line with actual princely duties, like getting married. there was a sliver of hope in leona’s mind that if he ever found his soulmate that there’d be a chance he’d get to have a say in his marriage.
in the end, he’s as hopeful for that outcome as is a sea sponge is to grow legs and walk out of water.
you blink away the drowsiness clouding your mind, professor trein might actually bore you to death if he’s not careful. though it’s only the first weeks of classes, half of his lectures are not sticking in your brain. some would say, in one ear and out the other.
an elbow nudges you from your left side, it’s ace. “do you get any of this?” he whispers.
“you’re asking the wrong person.” you narrow your eyes and blink hard this time.
a moment passes where ace is beyond confused, then he realizes that in fact he is asking the wrong person for help here. he quickly twists in his seat to his opposite neighbour, deuce to ask him the same thing. deuce shakes his head. ace’s shoulders deflate, defeated.
some more time passes before class is over, trein assigns some work, you, ace, and deuce groan in succession but were quickly leveled with a stare from trein. the three of you swiftly made for the exit.
it’s only an hour later that you realize your bag was unzipped and wide open as you were complaining with the heartslabyul freshmen, meaning your history notebook was left somewhere in trein’s classroom. you bashfully rub at your neck while you explain to the duo why you have to suddenly ditch them, reassuring that you’ll be as quick as you can and they don’t need to come with.
grim stares at you before ineffectively dismissing his hench-human with a huff and a flick of his paw. (you were going to go whether grim ‘allowed’ you to or not, you need that book.)
your speed walking caught you some funny looks as you sped past students in the halls, you didn’t want to leave your friends hanging. gods this would be so much easier with magic.
you reach the history classroom and the door is slightly ajar. you assume either the professor was still in there or it was purposefully left open. maybe he realized there was a forgotten notebook and thought you’d come back for it. it does have your name across the top in blue pen.
the door squeals on its hinges as it opens slowly, you cringe at the sudden noise. it goes quiet as the door fully opens. no trein in sight, nor does his desk have an addition of your notebook. okay, maybe it’s still at your seat.
the class is empty, thankfully. you don’t have to awkwardly squeeze through strangers looking for a white notebook. a lot of people have white notebooks, but only you have your name. you reach the desk you sat at today and… no book. oh.
“okay, where is it.” you sigh to no one as you fold your arms across your chest, trying to think of anyone who would steal a freshmen history notebook. while you’re thinking, a yawn catches your attention. wait, what?
“check the floor.” the yawn turns into a phrase, making you jump.
“what the hell?” you look around, whipping your head from the left to the right, but ultimately seeing no one. after a minute of silence, from both you and the gruff voice, you inch your way around the desks, checking the row behind. you practically jump out of your skin when you’re met with leona kingscholar sprawled out across a row of seats.
“that can not be comfortable.” you point out the obvious as the scare wears off.
“it’s not.” leona agrees, “but it was quiet, and empty.” he cracks an eye, leaning his head up slightly to look at you upside down. he kind of looks like he’s scowling but it’s hard to tell.
you take a second, somewhat taken aback at his jab to your presence. “right. well, sorry?”
“apology accepted, now get out lest you disrupt me anymore.” okay, rude. you roll your eyes before taking his previous suggestion. you squat down and check the floor for your book and-
“aha!” the notebook somehow ended up in the row behind you, it must have slipped from your bag and slid backwards. you reach under the seat leona’s got his head on, but the sleeping prince catches your arm before you can grab the book. it stuns you for a moment before you recover, “what’s your deal?” you try and back your arm from his grip but he doesn’t let go.
“you. you’re the deal. you’re yellin’ beside my head.” embarrassment rushes to your face, you did triumphantly shout when you found the missing book, that much is true.
“okay, i’m sorry. now please let me go.” leona releases your arm, opting to run a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes as he sits up.
you scoop the notes off the ground, attempting to get out of leona’s bubble before you make enemies with the wrong person (i.e the second born prince of the sunset savanna). he reaches up and stretches his arms and back from probably the worst sleeping spot on school grounds, but something catches your attention. you suck in a breath, not wanting to make assumptions, and lift your left hand.
there sits a perfectly tied red string, transparent yellow glitters still emanating from thin air. looking back up, leona has a matching patch of disappearing glitters that follow his stretch. scrambling to your feet, you drop the notebook you searched so diligently for and reach for leona’s arm as it falls. he opens his mouth to protest but snaps it shut at the panicked look in your eyes. he falters for a moment, hoping you explain before he asks.
the housewarden glances where you’re focused. a dainty red string is unwrapping itself from your finger and reaching towards… him? not a moment later, you’re walking as fast as your legs will take you without giving out, back to your friends who’ve hopefully not forgotten you were with them. you’ve a lot to think about.
then again, so does leona.
azul always humoured the idea of a soulmate. someone to always put up with him, to be by his side eternally. he’s caught himself once or twice drifting off to the idea of who it is, were they like him in any way? was it someone from the human world, the sea, or was he bound to never find this mysterious individual? azul found himself checking his pinky if he remembered. it was always bare.
until the day it wasn’t.
you absentmindedly kick a pebble into the slightly overgrown grass surrounding main street. large stone statues of the seven tower around the street, each with a plaque engraved with their names. something about them felt oddly comforting, like finding an old childhood toy buried deep in a box, but you couldn’t place why.
suddenly, both your arms are taken by a matching pair of twins. one loops his arm around yours, the other lightly grabs onto your shoulder.
one second you’re shuffling around the statues of the seven, next you’re being dragged around by the freaky leech twin duo. floyd offers no explanation, jade simply says he knows what he’s doing. you’d hope so. you hope he’s got a real good explanation for abducting someone off the main street and hauling them to the mirror room, transporting them to the octavinelle dorm building.
the sea theme catches your eye, the plants sway as if they really are underwater, and the air smells slightly salty. you take in the exterior design, how it all blends together and creates a homey feeling for the students.
you breath in the air once again, “okay, now that we’re here, can either of you tell my why i’ve been kidnapped?”
floyd begins cackling behind his hand, “shrimpy-napped!” air passes from your nose, ready to get annoyed with floyd before jade offers an explanation.
“azul has requested you come visit him, this was the best way.”
“no, it’s not? he could have come to talk to me like a normal person.”
the octavinelle dorm opens, revealing the man of topic. “why be normal? besides, i am a very busy man, this was optimal.” optimal for you, you weren’t nabbed off the main street by a pair of eels. you close your eyes for a moment, mentally resetting.
you realize jade and floyd are still hanging off your arms so you shake them off as azul now takes the lead, showing you to his office, where he claims is the best location to have a chat. you’re not sure what he wants from you, or why you’re actually here, but it better be good.
azul sits, gesturing for you to take the seat across from his desk. the chair is simple, seemingly in pristine condition too. maybe it’s new. his desk, on the other hand, has definitely seen better days. there are knicks and scratches all around, marking up the beautiful detailing of the wood. you sit as you examine it.
azul clears his throat, stealing your attention from the chipped desk. “so, ramshackle prefect, are you one hundred percent sure you don’t know how you ended up here?”
you groan as soon as the words leave his lips. this cannot be the reason he’s gotten you prefect-napped by his vice housewarden and his brother. you stand to leave, not wanting to play along with azul’s ridiculous play on your arrival.
“wait- don’t go?” he sounds almost confused, as if he doesn’t know why you’d up and go.
“oh come on, azul, this is like our second proper meeting and you hound me for showing up in twisted wonderland? i don’t know, okay?” you sit back down.
he folds his hands on the desk in thought. he kisses his teeth before starting again, “alright, i’ll admit, that was low of me. how about this, i’ll offer a glimpse of my past in return for some of yours. i am very curious about you.”
at least he admit to his wrongdoing, but why is he interested in you and your past? azul must be able to see the confusion and consideration in your face, he continues. “i cannot lie when i say i haven’t felt the same since you arrived.” his face instantly flushes, as does yours. that really sounded like some twisted love confession.
“i-i mean there’s been this odd feeling i get when someone mentions your name, i can’t quite explain it.”
“azul, stop while you’re ahead. you’re digging a deeper grave here.” he nods, flushed cheeks hidden behind gloved hands.
for the next half an hour, the two of you ignore the odd confession azul accidentally spilled while you share childhood memories. it’s oddly intimate but comforting at the same time.
sometime during an anecdote you lean your arms on the desk, fiddling with the nearest pen to keep your hands busy. a habit that azul shares. he’s flicking a pen back and forth absentmindedly while he recounts the first day he met the twins.
azul lowers his hands, halting the pen's movements, and taps the top of your hand in a comforting attempt. “now, i hope i didn’t… make a… bad impression…” he trails off as quickly as he started.
your eyes are glued to your balled fist where purple glitters begin emanating from thin air, materializing the fated red string. you instinctively flatten your hand to watch the string work its way around your finger. across from you, azul is equally as stunned as he almost rips his glove in attempts to remove it, watching as his own matching shimmer appears.
you’re both stunned to silence. unsure of how to react, or what to say. until the boy across from you breaks the momentary silence, “i guess… i know why i was drawn… to you.” his voice is soft, almost scared as he speaks.
“maybe it was a good thing i was ‘shrimpy-napped’ today.” you’re just as quiet, eyes glossy.
shrimpy-napped? you’ll have to explain that one to him later. you have nothing but time… azul hopes.
kalim knows he can’t indulge the idea of a soulmate too much. he’s next in line to a wealthy family and carries an influential last name. despite knowing this, it’s always been a thought in his busy mind, knowing someone, somewhere is the missing piece to his mental puzzle.
for the last week, something has been bothering kalim. neither he nor jamil can figure out what it is, he’s passing his classes (to his knowledge), he’s got a trustworthy vice housewarden and no one has tried to kill him for the past few months… kalim couldn’t put his finger on the reason his stomach felt like it was in knots.
it got progressively worse over the week and he was afraid he was falling ill. a few tests later and he’s healthy as a horse. with a clean medical slate and nothing of real concern, the only thing kalim can do is plaster a smile on his face and go about his day, trying to ignore the sensation.
the large door separating the lounge from the kitchen swings open with great force. “jamil, i can’t take it anymore! it feels like there’s something wrong with me!”
“i believe i can assure you there’s nothing wrong with you, are you nervous about anything?”
“no,” kalim sighs, dropping his head into his hands. it’s been a week of no answers, and the only time he felt any better was in his classes. maybe it was because his mind was occupied by other things, or… there’s another reason.
you let your head fall back onto your pillow, looking over to grim. “well, weasel? am i dying, or am i dying.” the pads of grim’s paw feel across your forehead, not without shooting you a look over the nickname.
he retracts his paw, tucking it back by his side. “you feel fine? maybe you’re homesick?” grim offers a solution you hadn’t thought of. it wasn’t a non-possibility, you did get transported away from your homeland not two months ago.
you check the phone you were given for the time, “grim, we’re going to be late!” you shoot up straight like a firework, snatching your school bag and blazer before scurrying out the door, grim hot on your trail.
you know you’re not supposed to, but you take off running down the halls of NRC like you’re being chased. the last thing you need is to be late and get in trouble. you dodge other students who aren’t in the same rush you are, they’re probably in the right half of the school anyways. your class was on the opposite side of the school, up two flights of stairs. for someone with magic, this would be easy. no sweat.
you’re in the middle of mentally complaining when you zone back in, you gasp as you almost bullrush the student in front of you, but his companion quickly pulls him aside. your hands just slightly brush up against one another as you pass him. without stopping, because if you do you’ll surely be extremely late, you glance over your shoulder and yell an apology.
you catch sight of who you almost crashed into, and by the gods, you were almost dead. dead at the hands of jamil viper. you just about swept kalim al-asim straight off his feet and onto the ground, but thanks to jamil, you’re spared a swift demise.
many halls and two flights of stairs later and you reach your class. thankfully, just as you step in the bells ring. as you take your seat, you realize you feel a lot better all of a sudden.
a long, lazy hour later, the class finally ends. you’re freed from the grasps of boredom, but a pair of tan hands decked in golden jewellery find themselves on the top of your table, halting your attempt to leave peacefully.
the scarabia housewarden beams as you stand, startled. how did he know what class you’re in? what is he doing here, and what does he need with you?
a hundred questions blind you as kalim settles into the chair in front of your table. his beaming smile fell slightly into a smaller smile. you greet him, somewhat unsure of how you’re supposed to address him, as you know his title but haven’t really made friends with him yet. he dismisses it and asks to see your hands.
your teeth find your lip, biting down lightly in curiosity. you untuck your hands from your pockets and present them towards kalim’s outstretched ones. a gasp falls from his lips when he catches sight of your hand. your left hand.
you look down, unsure of the reason for his reaction.
then you see it. a gasp falls from your lips this time as you bring your hand closer to your face; a little red string, tied perfectly into a bow sits on the base of your little finger.
“when- who-... how!?” unfinished questions fall before you can think. you’ve met your soulmate without even knowing. this had to have happened today, but when? who was it? you only remember just about crashing into… kalim.
your face falls in disbelief. without thinking, you reach towards his hand, where a matching bow sits. the closer you get, the less uniform the bows become. when they’re within a few inches they begin to unravel and wrap around the other, like a vine conjoining in the middle of a wall.
kalim silently watches the spectacle in front of him, amazed. never in a hundred years did he think he’d ever be able to see this happen to him. growing up, he was told stories of soulmates and how they’re very unlikely to ever meet. but here he is, meeting the one the stars believed was best for him.
as you and kalim are watching the pair of strings move like magic a voice clears his throat by the door. you had no idea he was there but jamil shoots the housewarden a look, a warning of sorts, you assume. he knows there’s going to be a lot to unwrap with this newfound information. kalim knows it too, and so do you.
like why is your soulmate interdimensional? man… what a week. (it’s tuesday.)
vil liked the idea of a soulmate. would they be like him? or maybe the opposite. though, he didn’t actively search the lands for his soulmate, he was never opposed to the fact that the gods above, maybe even the seven, had picked someone for him.
him and his entourage of fans who would probably collectively lose their minds if vil announced the existence of his soulmate.
a few days ago, you were given an invitation by the pomefiore’s housewarden for a lesson on twisted wonderland etiquette. you assume crowley put him up to this, or maybe, vil wanted too. you weren’t sure, the only thing the invitation said was a date, time, and location.
now it’s the day, 4pm and you’re standing outside of the pomefiore’s large, castle-like dorm building. the perfectly trimmed bushes and blooming flowers give the exterior a nice, inviting aroma, but the sense of dread and fear have been gnawing on your insides since you passed through the mirror.
surely the wonderland’s etiquette can’t be so different from that of your homeland. maybe it was a ploy, or a faulty invitation. should you leave? yeah-
the door opens gracefully as you’re about to turn on the balls of your heels and high tail it back to the mirror. you’re met with the heeled housewarden of pomefiore, the illustrious vil schoenheit greets you kindly, inviting you in.
“thank you for uh, inviting me here.” you bow your head slightly, unsure.
“it looks like you’ve already got some experience under your belt, good.” does he seriously take you for a baby? you have basic manners, seriously, this cannot be a good use for your time.
but truth be told, vil solely invited you under the guise of an etiquette lesson because he’s had a feeling of lost since you appeared on the first day. something has been tugging at him since then and he had to find out what it is and how he can get rid of it.
vil guides you through elegant hallways, passing by large windows that look out to various places. large gardens, a fountain, beautiful blooming flowers, and chatting residents. all of it is somewhat overwhelming, but you can understand the constant need to be perfect, vil is the embodiment of it.
you trail slightly behind him as his heels tap on the flooring. you’re able to get a good look at him, his perfectly styled hair, creaseless uniform and perfect posture. you wonder how long he takes to get ready each morning.
the tap of his heels stops but you realize too late, you’re just about to crash into his back when he spins on the toes of his shoes. “before i forget, prefect, there’s something in my room i must fetch. come.” and then he’s off again, heels clicking on the shiny tile like tap shoes.
he swings the large detailed door to his room open, it’s decorated elegantly, like the rest of the pomefiore building. it’s something straight out of a designer competition, the sheets and curtains are silky, and expensive looking too.
“is there an ulterior motive for having me here?” the words fall from your lips as you’re looking around before you’re able to stop them. vil spins again, facing your after rooting through a drawer on his bedside table.
the blonde places a hand on your shoulder, gazing down through perfect eyelashes, “i believe with more practice, you won’t make a fool of yourself while you’re here.”
your brows furrow, is that the only reason he wanted to teach you? he thinks you’re a fool? you look over to the hand on your shoulder, but notice something other than his hand, which you were ready to swat away and go back to ramshackle.
iridescent purple glitters fall from midair, and you’re instantly filled with a sense of relief. like an ache that’s finally gone away, like you’ve found something you didn’t know you were yearning for.
technically, you did find something.
as you’re internally monologuing, you feel the hand on your shoulder tighten. vil has realized why he’s had an odd pull in your direction. you’re his soulmate. soul. mate. his mouth goes dry at the thought.
the magic-less human from a different world with an unbridled familiar, hand picked by the gods for him. he has one question: why? he releases your shoulder after you wince under the pressure, floating his hand to your raised one.
vil’s lips purse into a thin line, hiding the purple lipstick fully. he watches the string reach towards the one wrapped around your finger, moving as if controlled like a marionette. each draw of breath is slow, uncalculated and scared. the star believed he’d be excited, like anyone would be, if he found his soulmate, but your situation makes this hard.
he wants to enjoy this experience but you share the sentiment, your lips are pursed and eyes are wide.
the strings meet between your hands, tying into a neat bow between the other string. these fate strings are seemingly very smart; they’ve got some kind of gravitational pull towards its match. vil meets your gaze with an unexplainable shine glossing his pale eyes.
suddenly, his dorm door bursts open, revealing a disheveled rook, who’s actively attempting to smoothen the crinkles in his uniform and dust off his shoulders. he’s not in savanaclaw anymore. shocked, vil rips his hand from its place beside yours, shoving his hands under his arms as he crosses them.
“la roi du poison- oh, et la ramshackle préfet!” rook tosses his hands up, clearly not expecting you. “i hope i’m not interrupting, but there’s a problem in the lounge!” he starts back down the hall before vil can reply, leaving him no choice but to follow.
the housewarden apologizes quickly before only the tap and clack of his heels can be heard as he’s quick to follow his vice into whatever trouble someone’s caused.
you, on the other hand, are left with way more questions than this morning, but have the answer to one. the lifelong question about soulmates has been answered. somewhat.
idia didn’t believe he’d ever care even if he found his supposed soulmate. he’s too awkward, socially inept, and too focused on his games most days to consider searching. if luck was on his side eventually, and the day the string appears comes, he may just change his mind.
the first time you met idia properly, it was a complete mess. he often made appearances via floating tablet, or sent ortho in his place to meetings or gatherings. you heard from others that not many have seen the ignihyde housewarden in person for more than ten minutes total in the three years he’s been in NRC.
others are luckier with the introvert, like azul who shares his love for board games with idia. he’ll get all riled up during the club, going off on tangents, only to zip it moments later, utterly embarrassed about his outburst. azul had grown accustomed to idia’s back and forth attitude, and is more patient with him as a result.
you clutch the papers specifically handed to you by crowley for azul, something about a tax return for… his dorm? you didn’t quite understand what the headmage was yammering about before he ushered you out and directed you to the club, guaranteeing that you’d find the octavinelle housewarden there.
you pause in front of the class crowley mentioned, then push the door open. “well, if it isn’t the ramshackle prefect!” azul greets you as you enter the somewhat empty room, causing others to glance your way before returning to their games, including idia. his gaze lingering for but a moment longer from the corner of his eye. ortho greets you kindly as well, floating over to you, trying to peek at the small stack of papers.
“hello, azul. and ortho!” you smile to both.
“say hello to my brother, too!” ortho’s sweet voice rings as idia, who you now realize is his brother, looks as if he’s shaking like a leaf, ready to fly away with the wind.
“n-no, ortho, it’s okay.” his voice is quick, almost inaudible as he mumbles into his hood, which is doing a poor job of covering the flame-like hair that sprouts off his head.
you shrug walk closer to the table where azul and idia’s half finished game of checkers lies forgotten. you reach out and move around a white piece, claiming victory for the white team, who you assume was idia. you turn to azul and hand him the papers, “crowley sent me to give you these. something about a tax return? whatever he meant by that.”
azul takes the papers, tucking them under his arm. “i run a lounge open to any and all students, headmage must want his cut, i assume. you should come by some time! though, i’m surprised you didn’t know.”
“i uh, would if i could,” you pull the empty pocket liners out of your pockets comically, “i’m completely broke, wallet went poof when i… appeared? here.”
“ah-”
“well, azul, this was great but i’m going backtomydormnow, pleaseexcuseme.” idia’s unexpected, almost panic stricken voice breaks your conversation with azul as he stands, more like jumps, from his seat, startling not only you, but his brother and azul.
as the older shroud brother attempts to speed walk off, ortho floats around in front of him, trying to get him to stay, claiming he never leaves a game unfinished, or a score tied. idia tries to swerve around ortho, to get out as quick as he can, he’s not even fully sure why he wants to leave, why he feels he has to leave, but an overwhelming sense of familiarity surrounded him when you walked in. he tried to ignore it but it got worse the closer you came, and when you finished his game of checkers, he almost passed out.
he has to get out of here. back to the safety of his dorm room, to his games and favourite anime.
idia felt as if he was trapped in a triangle between azul, ortho, and you.
he stumbles over his own foot pathetically, causing you to reach out instinctively to hold onto his arm, hoping to steady him before he falls. idia pauses, looking scared as he brings a shaky hand close to his face. his eyes widen as you all watch a red string materialize from blue glittering stars tie itself around his pinky like magic. his face pales as you copy, bringing your left hand up to view.
a red bow sits neatly around the base of your pinky, blue glitter quickly fading. you slowly move your hand closer to idia’s, watching as the bows unravel and reach for one another. like a pair of vines, they wrap around each other until idia returns to his senses and rips his hand away, covering the new accessory to his everyday wear with his other hand. at the loss of its pair, your string returns to your pinky.
you stand there, utterly dumbfounded in the middle of the board game club. you came to simply deliver some papers to azul, but are now leaving with some very, very confusing new information.
you turn to azul who’s sporting a matching dumbfounded look, and ortho seems to be the only happy one at this point. when you turn back once again, idia has disappeared, possibly quicker than any teleportation magic known to magekind. ortho waves a swift goodbye, giggling as he tails after his brother.
you look at azul again, who’s mostly regained his composure, “well…?”
“what do you mean, ‘well’!? i could use a little more support here, azul. i just found out my soulmate isn’t even from my DIMENSION.” you drag your hands down your face, exasperated. and suddenly, very tired. “y’know what, don’t even answer that, i’m going back to ramshackle.”
you hear azul snicker as you march out of the classroom. asshole.
malleus cast the idea of a soulmate out long ago. with his millennium long life expectancy, he was sure he’d outlive, or had outlived, any type of lover the universe has assigned him.
the heir to briar valley was quite frustrated today. he had overheard some diasomnia students chatting about the idea of soulmates earlier in the morning and it’s been on his mind ever since. it’s well past the final class of the day, and he skipped dinner.
i don’t quite feel hungry as of now. he waved off lilia’s attempt to join them for the meal, worrying sebek the most. lilia quite literally had to hold the first year by the collar to stop him from chasing malleus down.
the housewarden shut himself in his room like a temperamental toddler. angry clouds crackle and pop outside, rivalling his emotions. his head felt like it was swimming in an indescribable pot of gelatin, it was heavy and sad, which troubled malleus more because he thought he was long over the idea of a little red string wrapping itself around his pinky.
what a trivial thing to be so upset over. some things in life aren’t fair, malleus knows that better than just about everyone. time is a thief and age is a curse, the heir gets to live hundreds of lives while that of humans perish so quickly.
sure, he’s enjoyed learning new traditions and customs that have sprouted within his lifetime, but he’s also watched the last remaining folks die in cultures, leaving their history to be forgotten over time.
malleus isn’t sure how, but he’s managed to be so deep in thought that he wandered to the spot he used to occupy before it gained a new resident. what’s now the ramshackle dorm, was once a beaten, dusty, forgotten building beside the main building of NRC.
the day you showed up was one he won’t forget. a human with an unruly, unkempt familiar who really has a knack for getting himself in trouble. since you’ve been living in the old building, fixing it up and going to classes alongside him and his peers, he’s stopped coming here for more than one reason.
it would be impolite to intrude on what is now your space, especially uninvited. he’s settled with lingering in the gardens in front of ramshackle. he’s taken a liking to the purple and blue flowers that have begun to wilt with the cooler season upcoming. malleus runs a finger over one, watching it instantly gain the strength to hold itself up, blooming once again. the purple petals shimmer with the lingering magic he shares, admiring the way it almost seems to follow his hand, asking for more.
“uh, excuse me?” a voice startles him back into focus, he clasps his hand behind his back and turns around. he’s met with a half asleep ramshackle prefect, hair messy and wrapped in a blanket.
“i apologize, i shall be going at once.” he’s been caught, he figures it’s time to find a new place to think.
you take a step forwards, looking the housewarden over, you’ve definitely seen him around before but he always looks either deep in thought or like he doesn’t want to be bothered, so you’ve kept your space from him. “no, wait.”
malleus falters, wait? he does just that. he doesn’t use his magic to teleport away, doesn’t walk backwards, doesn’t move. he allows you to look him over, to judge him, expecting the usual treatment. his guard remains high but he realizes how he towers over you, like he does with everyone else so he somewhat relaxes his body, trying to be smaller.
as you’re examining the semi-stranger in the garden, you notice the singular purple flower that’s in bloom. you tilt your head, looking past malleus. “did you… do that?”
malleus turns, suddenly remembering the flower. a small smile graces his lips as he leans down, picking the flower's stem near the middle. your brows knit together as he turns back and holds his hand out to you. the flower still shimmers from the magic he used. “i did.”
you pluck the flower from his hold, careful not to damage the delicate plant. you bring it close, “is there a reason you’re not in your dorm and in my garden? it’s late and sounds like it’ll rain at any moment,” you look upwards, expecting the sky to be as black as paint but instead you’re greeted with many, many twinkling stars and an almost full moon. “or… not?”
the housewarden follows your gaze, he hardly noticed the clouds have cleared. when did they do that? he swipes at his forehead, clearing his vision from the hair that sprouts around his horns.
“i suppose it is appropriate to explain my presence,” he turns back to you, bangs falling back into place. you’re still looking at the stars but you nod in agreement. “before you inhabited this building, i used to come here to think. since you’ve arrived, i’ve ceased that for clear reasons. i hope you do not mind i still roam the garden. it is quite lovely in the spring when everything begins to bloom.”
you listen to the horned individual, lightly caressing the flower unconsciously. the soft petals felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before, especially in a flower, could that have been due to the magic embedded in it?
“i don’t mind, it’s not like you’re being creepy about it, right?” he hums, “and besides, we all need a space to think. i’m… glad my little makeshift home can be comfortable enough for you.” you look up to him, moonlight glistening across your eyes.
you signal him to lean down, waving him towards you as you take a step closer to the not-so-stranger. his sharp eyes narrow ever so slightly, confused, but leans his head down.
you reach up to the tall man, setting the flower against the inside of his right horn. your finger grazes the side accidentally, you find it to be smoother than you expected. when you lean back, malleus stands up fully once again, and you’re able to take in how large he actually is. for a third year, he’s very tall. must run in the family.
suddenly, everything around goes quiet. no crickets chirp, no frogs sing, nothing. as if the world stopped breathing. the eerie feeling is felt by both you and malleus, but you catch on quicker. your eyes widen as you lock eyes with him, your eyes shoot to his left hand. lo and behold, a red string begins materializing from green shimmer as it slides itself over his pinky. you reach to grab his wrist, to examine what you seriously cannot believe is happening, but he beats you to it.
malleus evades your grasp as he moves quicker than you can see, he’s crouched beside you before you can blink. he’s intently watching the red string he’s sure he’d never see wrap around your little finger, breathless. but you–you’re frozen. frozen to the spot as a million thoughts run through your mind. the most important one though, is why your soulmate is from a whole different dimension. that’s… not good.
malleus’s only thought is: finally.
then dread hits him like a freight train. he wants to be so very happy, to be excited. to tell lilia, to tell someone that he’s found his soulmate, but he knows two things. one; you’re human. two; twisted wonderland is not your home.
malleus meets your eyes, they’re filled with an emotion he can’t place. but if this is bothering you, your face definitely shows it. he’s quick to stand, and as soon as you blink, he’s gone.
the purple flower, seemingly frozen in time, flutters from the place malleus’s head just was. a gust of wind suddenly picks up, stealing the flower from your outstretched grasp as clouds quickly fill the sky like they did earlier. a crackle, some thunder, and they’re ready to split open and flood these lands.
just curious,, are you planning to write a third part for the "kissing him stupid" series? I read both and absolutely love love LOVED them so I was hoping for that but with the other characters not yet included >///< just wondering though, no pressure or anything like that at all!!
i’m definitely thinking about it!! i’m currently working on a secondary twst series, but it’s in the back of my mind for sure for sure
and tysm!! im glad y’all like the posts as much i as doooo☺️💜
&& keeps ur eyes peeled for my next post i’m excited ;)))
in which he has a certain feature that remind you a lot of nature's creatures, but it's cute. a lot cuter.
a.n; i think jamil kind of does have tiny fangs of some kind, or just longer (??) canine teeth, but take it as a headcanon of sorts. fact, lets call all of these headcanons!
enjoy this while i work on something bigger;))))
azul has blue blood coursing through his veins. the transformation potions he consumes are enough to physically change his body from an eight-legged sea creature to a human, walking on land with two legs, but even with the physical changes, azul is still at home in the sea.
you found out about his blue blood not far into knowing him, but not because he injured himself or told you– no, you had flustered the poor housewarden half to death. his face blossomed into a light blue hue that caught your attention, causing you to point it out.
"i am an octopus at the end of the day, dear. we have blue blood, not red!"
jamil takes caution to deter attention from the two prominent, sharp canine teeth that resemble snake fangs. he's spent years training himself not to smile too wide, not to yawn in public, and definitely not to point them out. he's never been particularly ashamed of them, just takes extra caution to not alarm or startle anyone, especially young children like many of kalim's siblings or his own younger sister.
he's gotten used to them over the years, but when you innocently ask about them, he's suddenly a little bit shy. he pulls the collar of his hoodie over his chin, covering most of his mouth, resulting in his fangs being hidden from your curious view.
"i was born with them, they're nothing special."
leona's eyes slit and expand like a common house cat when he's surprised or extremely pleased. he denies it every time someone brings it up, but he's usually unbothered by the curious looks he gets, as he's use to them. and really, no one would dare piss off a prince. especially a prince like leona.
when you take notice to leona's fluctuating pupils, you realize he's a lot nicer than the front he puts up. he particularly notice he's not so opposed to your presence, his pupils expand a lot when you're around, they quickly slit when someone tries to bug him, and they're dangerously sharp when someone wakes him up prematurely from a nap. but they're always somewhat blown wide when he's within an arms reach, it's almost comical how you didn't notice them sooner.
"one word, and you're banned from savanaclaw, herbivore."
malleus had never realized he's able to purr. not until you came along. he's never had someone he's been so comfortable with, someone he feels so free around. the first time it happened, you were relaxing in his room, content with drawing messy shapes on his hand.
the rumbling had you believing a storm was brewing, but malleus was in a good mood, and the sky was clear of any angry clouds. you were confused until he came closer, attempting to inspect the sky, he gently leant on your back. that's when you felt the rumble that emitted from malleus's chest.
"i simply had no idea i was capable of that, it's fascinating."
Hi hi!! I recently read your HCs of “kissin him stupid” With the housewardens and I was wondering if it’s possible to request the same thing but with the vice housewardens + ruggie? If not then you can just ignore this, thanks in advance! <33
kissin him stupid pt. 2
w/ trey, ruggie, jade, jamil, rook, & lilia
in which you were recently gifted a tube of lipstick from grim, you're unsure of where he got it or why he decided it's yours now but it's given you a fantastic idea.
(he probably stole it from vil somehow and wants to place the blame on you..)
tysm for this request - i didnt know if i wanted to do a part two but if the audience seeks more i shall deliver, and i decided to take jamil's a slightly different route, it's all the same in the end
part one!
trey removes and folds his glasses, placing them on the nightstand. he falls back onto his bed with a defeated sigh.
the mattress dips as you sit beside him, mocking his sigh. he shuts his eyes and smiles, playfully swatting at you like a pestering fly in the summer heat.
“long day?” you turn to sit more comfortably.
“you have no idea.”
“i think i do. you may go prematurely grey dealing with ace and deuce alone, i can imagine adding literally anyone else into the equation would probably drive anyone crazy.” you reach over, smoothing your thumb between his eyebrows, watching as they unfurrow under your touch. trey grabs your hand and kisses the palm.
he sighs again, and you think this is your chance to drive him a little more crazy. you feel for the lipstick in your pocket, and apply it as quietly as you can as you listen to trey recount his day.
you hum in agreement, shifting closer so you’re not awkwardly leaning around his head and grab both of his hands, caging them in one of your own. he could easily escape your makeshift prison but he doesn’t. as he attempts to open his eyes, you cover them with your free hand, rendering him more sightless than he was without his glasses.
you brush your lips slightly against trey’s, then move to kiss his cheek, down to his jaw, then up to his forehead. you remove your hand from his eyes, knowing he understands your goal. trey purses his lips, trying to hide the smile that threatens to break out.
you brush some hair off his forehead and kiss it again, then under his eye, and the other. you notice he’s wriggled his hands free of your hold when an arm wraps around you, pulling you inches closer.
trey leans his forehead against yours, transferring some of the lip marks onto you, “did you know you’re worse than the first years combined?”
you lean back, gasping dramatically. “how rude! for that,” you turn your back completely to him, “i think i’m done here.”
he grabs a handful of the back of your sweater, pulling you back, “hey now…”
“‘hey’ yourself,” you say, smiling stupidly at his somewhat messy appearance.
trey pulls you down further, kissing your cheek, “i surely wouldn’t let them do this, would i?”
you know he meant for that to be cute and meaningful, but you can’t help but drive him a little further towards the edge of insanity, “well, i would hope not? that would be a little awkward.” trey groans as you snicker.
you know he likes you.
ruggie will do just about anything for the right price, everyone knows that. you seem to think that you’ve got his code cracked as he stands in the middle of the ramshackle kitchen utterly speechless because you’ve got him to leave savanaclaw, come all the way here, just to open an already opened jar of olives.
well, you needed an excuse to try on your newest gift from grims grubby, thieving paws.
ruggie turns to place the jar down, still wondering why he needed to be the one to get it open. while he’s pondering to himself about your choices, you call out to him from just outside the door, “you done?”
“uh, yeah. why did i need-” he’s stopped by you as he passes through the door frame, grabbing onto his shirt and pulling him to you.
he stumbles but regains himself swiftly, eyes narrowed in confusion. he doesn’t have time to question you again as you let his shirt go, and wrap an arm around his neck, bringing him to perfect height. you start pecking swift kisses all over his cheeks and forehead. ruggie hesitates momentarily, unsure of what’s going on, why you’re suddenly kissing him a lot, and were your lips always that red? no…
he grabs onto your shoulders and pushes back lightly, attaining new open inches between the two of you, and examines your face. he knew he wasn’t crazy. “where d’ya get the lipstick?”
you shrug, “grim, i guess?”
“you guess?” you nod, attempting to return to attacking showering ruggie with affection, but he stops you once again. “wait, wait. what is this?”
“i know you don’t do things for free, it’s reasonable! and i kind of just wanted a reason to kissalloveryourface.” you hide behind your hand by the end of your sentence, trying to make it as inaudible as possible, but with the flush that takes over ruggie’s cheeks, you know he’s heard you loud and clear.
“you’re… insufferable.”
“but you like me!”
jade’s bicoloured eyes follow from his desk chair as you walk circles around his room, talking his ear off about one thing or the other. you plunge your hand into your pocket and fiddle with the items you brought along, only to wing your arm out again to dramatically accentuate your sentence.
the cycle breaks when jade grabs your attention, motioning for you to come closer. you sputter, trying to focus your mind from your tangent back to calm. your hand finds the tube in your pocket once again.
when you’re close enough to arms length, jade reaches out, “what do you keep playing with?” he gently grasps the wrist of the hand in your pocket, revealing the black tube in your hand.
a smile creeps up onto your lips as you un-cap the lipstick and apply it swiftly before jade can fully process what it is. though he’s quick and observant, he’s taken slightly aback as he wasn’t expecting the rich red makeup. it’s not everyday either of you have reason to get dressed up, and as far as jade’s scary good memory goes, there’s nothing planned for tonight.
“it was a… gift of sorts. can i?”
jade narrows his eyes slightly, but nods nonetheless, trusting you’re not planning his imminent demise. you place a stabilizing hand on the arm of his desk chair and use the other to move aside the long black strand of hair the left side of his face. you place a kiss under the spot the strand covers, but you don’t stop. you trail across his forehead, down his nose and press a kiss to the corner of his lips.
you lean back slightly, and are met with jade’s features covered in a light, rosy flush. a sharp toothy grin spreads across his lips as he drags you back, stealing a red-stained kiss, making you gasp.
“oh, no you don’t,” you mutter as you attempt to continue your kiss-ambush. jade throws his hands up in defeat, allowing you to smudge the red makeup all around his face.
jade’s eyes shut as you press your lips against him more and more, until he’s more kiss than eel.
he chuckles when he figures you’re not stopping, “okay, okay… i think i’m more red than i’ve ever been.”
you lean back again, ready to protest but you realize that he’s right. there’s more smudges and stains on his face than bare skin. you grab the tube and examine it, there’s got to be some warning on here that says ‘super, extremely smudging.’ or ‘not transfer proof’ because you now have first hand experience with its ability.
jamil runs a hand through his hair, lightly tugging out a tangle near the end as he watches you through the reflection of your vanity mirror. the delicate, white wooden desk was a gift from vil after the SDC and STYX affairs. he had planned to gift you something of the sorts but it was put on a… temporary hold after he was taken.
what vil didn’t disclose was that he’d left a tray of different makeup items in one of the drawers with a note, just in case you’d ever like to try your hand. many thanks, vil.
thanks to the sneaky housewarden, you have a fabulous idea for the unsuspecting serpentine vice sitting on your bed. you turn on the short bench seat to jamil, giving a small nod of approval. you assume it’s because of the red lipstick that you chose to show off.
you beckon him closer, across your decently sizable room. he raises a brow but complies anyways. once he’s within arms reach, you grab onto the front of his sweater, pulling him close enough to lean up and kiss his cheek, leaving a perfectly shaped mark.
heat instantly rushes to jamil’s face as he frees himself from your grasp and covers his face. he averts his eyes, looking anywhere but you, and it has you thinking what you did was wrong. he quickly notices your concern and starts to feel guilty for reacting how he did but it really caught him off guard.
while jamil’s turning gears in his head, you realize he’s flustered. extremely flustered. embarrassed, even.
you stand, taking a tentative step towards jamil as if he’s a skittish animal that may bolt if you move too quickly. when he makes no move to back away further, you remove the hands from his face, snickering.
you slowly press another kiss to his heated face, then another, and another one until his cheeks are covered and jamil’s attempting to hide himself inside the collar of his sweater.
he wants to hide himself away, to reach out and never let go, ask for more, and run away all at once, or none at the same time. jamil’s conflicted, but the one thing he does know is that he gets to be selfish, and he’ll take all he can get.
rook takes your face in his hands, gently examining the purple lipstick swatches over your lips. “i think this colour is the best one, so far!” he exclaims with excitement. you turn to face the mirror, the colour reminds you of the one vil usually wears.
“rook…” you face him again, he hums.“you’re not favouring this one because it’s the same as a certain housewarden, are you?”
colour instantly rushes to his face, “ah, non! i simply think it is a lovely colour.” suuuure.
“well,” you wipe the purple lipstick off and reach into your pocket. “i have a colour suggestion.” rook eyes the tube as you apply it evenly across your lips, a pleasant hum escapes as he takes in the velvety colour.
you wait a moment as he intently examines the red lipstick with a raised eyebrow, “so?” you question.
“c’est magnifique! where did you get it?” you shrug. rook begins to ramble off about… something you don’t quite understand. you reach over, taking a hold of his collar and bring him to your height, pressing a kiss to his lips, effectively halting his oncoming tangent.
rook falters for half of a second, and you take that opportunity to pull him back again, kissing his cheeks.
you feel his hand snake around your neck, urging you to continue the assault on his features, so you do. you kiss where you can reach, his forehead, nose, lips again, before rook’s practically falling backwards in a fit of childish giggles.
you have to hold onto the front of his shirt so he doesn’t actually fall back into his vanity.
rook calms himself enough to take in his disheveled reflection. he tilts his face around, and starts pointing out the spots you missed.
somewhat shocked, you press kisses where his finger lands, and he’s never been happier.
what an odd guy, this rook hunt. but he’s your odd guy, who loves you and your lipstick kisses very, very much.
you lounge across lilia’s cluttered bed as he plays some first-person shooter game that looks unappealing. he strategically moves his little character around, avoiding enemies and wiping out the opposing team with practiced ease, while occasionally opening and replying to his online friend between kills or matches.
swiping on magicam has begun to get boring so you decide bothering lilia is a better idea.
it starts with throwing a pencil at him. then a random stone you found on the floor, then coming up behind him and pushing around his wheeled chair. he swats you away like you’re some fly, trying to pester him to death while he attempts to concentrate. you back away, acting as if you’ve gotten the hint to leave him to his game, but no.
you feel for the tube in your pocket and apply the lipstick quickly. you return to lilia’s side, innocently watching as he blasts through other players like they’re nothing. each time he eliminates someone you press a kiss to a new spot on his face. he’s too focused to realize you’re leaving red stains behind, which makes it funnier to you.
his concentration breaks when the round concludes, and he turns to you. only then does lilia realize you’ve been leaving lipstick marks over his face. he reaches up and wipes a finger across his cheek, examining the colour, with a defeated- yet smug- smile.
you continue as the next round starts but you stop just as his nose scrunches and the screen reads game over, “you really know how to get on an old man's nerves, don’t you?”
“oh, you’re not that old.”
lilia opens his mouth to retort, but you beat him to it, “in fae years.”
you both laugh as he shuts his monitor off, “now, where’s that lipstick?”
“no.”
self indulgent pt 2!!! (sorry for how long this took, anon, i actually don't know why. and ignore if there's any weird formatting problems, i fought with this post too much to care UGH)
in which you decide to see how your pro volleyball player boyfriend reacts to you wearing a jersey. a jersey that so happens to not be his, and not even his team?? c'mon now.
a.n; all my favs go pro this is great
ushijima wakatoshi stares you down as you're cooking in the kitchen. you can feel the intense bore of his curious eyes as you welcome him home from practice. his wandering vision takes in the black jersey with the name "sakusa" in big, bold letters across the back. you look over your shoulder when he doesn't answer, and are met with his bewildered state.
"oh are you interested in my new shirt?" you pull at the hem, examining the MSBY jersey look-alike as you turn to face you boyfriend. he takes three long strides through the kitchen before he's caged you between himself and the counter.
"i don't like it. it's representing another team. though i am acquainted to sakusa..." he grasps his chin between his thumb and forefinger, pondering for a moment. "no, i don't like it."
you let your head fall onto his shoulder, defeated by his straightforwardness. he runs a hand down your spine, "is there a problem?"
you groan, meeting his eyes, "i thought you'd react more to it, like... be jealous or something, gods.." you say, rolling your eyes.
"well, i am jealous, i thought that was obvious?" he tilts his head to the side slightly, like a puppy.
"no, it wasn't!" you drop your forehead onto his chest and groan again. his 'matter-of-fact' attitude is probably going to kill you one day.
bokuto kotaro eyed the green shirt suspiciously, "when did you get that?"
you hum in a fake thought, "i think a while ago?" you turn, revealing the full front of the jersey. a large number 17, followed by the name sendai frogs.
"hey! it's tsukki-bro! hey, wait..." his shoulders fall, along with his smile. you almost gave up the act right then and there, he looks so upset immediately. he drags one foot after another, stopping in front of you. he pinches the mock jersey and rolls it between his fingers.
"it's not as soft as mine is." he mumbles, eyes still trained on the details of the shirt.
you wrap your arms around his neck and attempt to catch his eyes, but you realize they aren't sad. they're crinkled at the edges like he's smiling wide. seems like he's got you figured out.
kotaro figures you've caught onto his fake sadness, and a smile spreads across his lips as he kisses your forehead, "i saw the receipt on my email, you used my card."
"shit."
sakusa kiyoomi grimaces at your package as you hold it up for him to examine. if kiyoomi didn't find the green utterly horrid, it was the fact that you spent money, probably his, on a jersey that didn't even support his team.
"it's like you spun a wheel with teams on it and bought the first one it landed on," he watches as you rip the plastic off and instantly throw the jersey on. "oh my god."
you pull the shirt over your head, fitting into the sleeves, "what?"
"you're not even going to wash it first?" you pause. you hadn't thought about that, nor the fact that your boyfriend was now judging you twice over.
"i, um... no?" kiyoomi rolls his eyes, a telling look clouds his eyes. "wait, are you jealous?!" you practically leap off the couch, the green jersey falls fully into place, the hem grazing your thighs, as your boyfriend avoids your eyes.
"you are, i knew it!"
"i'm not.." he mumbles, cheeks turning just the slightest shade of pink. "why did you pick the sendai frogs anyways? do you even know the player you picked?"
"it was kyotani, and not really, i've only ever seen their team play on tv, like once." you reach around your head and pull the shirt off, throwing it to the side. "but you're jealous!"
"am not."
the jersey was a short lived accessory in your closet, but best believe kiyoomi threw it out later that night. the shirt wasn't even soft enough to turn into a cleaning rag or sleep shirt, in his best opinion.
oikawa tooru, your loving boyfriend, stands in front of you, absolutely fuming as he eyes the white schweiden adler's shirt. what makes it even worse is the name and number you've picked. #20, kageyama tobio.
"get rid of that, like, yesterday."
"um, how about no?"
"what do you mean, 'no'!"
you stand from the couch, "oh tooru, you grew up with iwaizumi as a best friend, you've been told no before." then take off towards your bedroom.
"you-! get back over here!" tooru tails you into the bedroom before you can shut and lock the door, leaving him in the hall. he grabs a handful of jersey pulling you towards the closet as you protest, trying to scratch at his arm like a cat.
"here is a treasure trove of shirts and sweaters at your disposal, why on earth would you need that."
you wiggle free from his, not surprisingly, strong grip and fall back onto the neatly made bed, wrinkling the sheets. "because, i knew you'd freak."
tooru whips around, slack jawed, "oh, and it was iwazumi's idea." if his mouth could fall any further to the ground, you'd have to pick it up for him.
"you're both so horribly mean to me!"
kyotani kentaro, a man of many emotions but little words. for some reason some 15 months ago, you decided that he was a great target for your affection. it took a long time poking and prodding at the volleyball player for his number, and by the grace of the gods, it worked. you broke down his walls and caved yourself a cozy little home in his heart. now, he'd ask for nothing different-
"what the fuck is that."
you look between your drink and your phone, one in each hand, "what do you mean?" you ask with a sweet smile.
he rounds the table, "oh piss off, you know what i mean," and pulls your chair out from the table, while tugging at your oversized argentina jersey t-shirt. the blue shirt ripples under kentaro's hold.
"oh, that! there was a giveaway online on them after the argentina team won their last big game, people online were saying they were soft, so i entered for one to sleep in. i needed a new sleep shirt anyways." you don't miss the disgusted look that your boyfriend sports so well, it deepens as he realizes the name on the back. oikawa.
after a moment, he notices your shoulders shaking lightly in laughter, sensing his displeasure. you rise from the chair, bringing him and his scrunched face into your hold, "i'm just fucking with ya, i specifically picked oikawa, too."
he huffs with a stupid smile, rolling his eyes but reciprocating the hug, "gross, get rid of it."
miya atsumu's jaw drops when he catches a sight of you lounging comfortably on the couch, in a jersey that is most definitely not his. he swiftly makes his way between you and the television, ignoring your protest. his brow furrows when you don't immediately acknowledge him and his pout, (though he will 100% deny he's pouting, miya atsumu does not pout like a child).
you lean back on the couch as he advances, "off, take it off," he says while grasping at the neck, trying to pull the jersey from you.
"atsumu stop, you're gonna stretch it!" you protest, trying to blindly swat his hands away.
he stops, the jersey falls back over your eyes and you're met with the most dramatically hurt expression ever, "you care more about this, than my feelings?!"
"i spent good money on it, besides, you went to school with suna so i thought it would be cute!"
"it is far from cute," he spits, eyes full of envy for what could have been you in his clothes. "if i let you re-steal the grey sweater can i throw that thing out?"
"... possibly."
atsumu crosses his arms, "i'll forfeit my movie choice tonight."
"you've got yourself a deal, sir."
"rin come help me with this!" suna rintaro shuffles off the couch at your call, making his way to the hallway between the living room and kitchen of your share apartment.
he leans on the doorframe as he watches you move around a picture frame, "where should this go?" you turn to him, handing the frame to him. it was a picture of the two of you and the miya twins at the recent festival that passed. it was nice to see the two of them, and thankfully both their schedules allowed for them to come.
rintaro smiles at the picture, gaze lifting to you, who's looking at him expectantly. his view lowers to your attire, a simple pair of black shorts and a shirt he's never seen before.
you catch him examining the jersey-copy and turn around to reveal the name miya across the back. you look over your shoulder and are met with rintaro's sharp eyes, judging your choice of player. and team.
he reaches out and places a hand on your shoulder, turning you back around to face him. "hey, why don't we have a bonfire tonight, i'm sure the pit is free and i have the perfect fire starter." you feel the shirt tighten by your shoulder, he's got an iron grip on the jersey, but his face remains calm as ever.
a little too calm, it's kind of unnerving.
large white letters stare tsukishima kei right back in his dumbfounded face. your boyfriend places his gym bag down by the door, walking into the kitchen, ducking under the frame that just slightly too short for him.
"hinata, really?" his voice sounded extremely irritated, but his face softened as you turned to face him.
you place your mug down, "yeah! i remember you went to school with him, i thought it was cool you both went pro!"
"i don't care what that blockhead did. more importantly, where did you get that?" the blonde gestures to your torso, flicking his wrist around distastefully.
you smile, "i ordered it online! since it's a popular team they have their own line of lookalikes, they're really soft too." while you praise the MSBY jersey, kei's brief look of jealousy goes unseen.
"you bought a jersey based on someone i went to high school with?" he steps closer, just to flick you on the forehead, "that's stupid."
you rub the spot, while swatting his chest with the back of your other hand, "you're stupid!"
"no, it's stupid that we're not burning that thing yet."
masterlist
p.s; i was gonna do goshiki but realized how CHOPPED he is in the timeskip. sorry my beloved i can't take you seriously with those baby bangs.
sakusa kiyoomi who just scored the winning point and his first thought is you.
the crowds cheer in an uproar. the team piles together, sweaty and heaving. they're all happy. they want to cry, laugh, congratulate their teammate on scoring the point that won them the hardest game of their MSBY careers, but he's already pacing across the court. he's dodging hands and journalists with his vision dialed to where you stand at the bottom of the bleacher stairs, eyes brimming with pride and elation.
kiyoomi clears the railing like it's nothing, gaining surprised looks from the people around, but he doesn't care. you don't care about anything as he takes you in his hold, wrapping his arms around your torso while your hands snake around his neck, hand balled onto the back of his jersey. he squeezes you close, forehead leaning on your shoulder as he inhales deeply.
the ringing in his ears dies down as you pull away slightly, smiling wide. proud. kiyoomi lets go of your waist, gently cupping your cheeks as he pulls you into a searing kiss. passionate and desperate for an outlet to his excitement. you melt against him, despite how gross he outwardly feels, he's never internally felt better.
"you should probably go talk to your teammates, bokuto looks like he's ready to burst." you shove him away, facing him to his teammates, who in fact, very much do want to talk to him.
"i really... don't want to." you start to walk with him, almost dragging him by the wrist before he stops where there isn't anyone; near an empty bench.
"kiyo, you just finalized the harshest tournament i've watched you guys play. go." you pat his cheek, he leans into your hold.
"fine. but... can we have a-"
you cut him off, "a hot bath with the lavender salts? yes." a small smile rose to his lips. he could feel the effects of the weekend tournament weighing on his arm already.
sakusa kiyoomi feels like a million dollars today. and yesterday, and every other day he's gotten to call you his. oh and the fact that he scored the final point, but who cares about that when you're standing right in front of him?
in which you were recently gifted a tube of lipstick from grim, you're unsure of where he got it or why he decided it's yours now but it's given you a fantastic idea.
(he probably stole it from vil somehow and wants to place the blame on you..)
note; malleus' is the shortest but the most full of love i swear to goooood but the post itself is quite long
part two!
if riddle could form a proper sentence right now, he might scold you for slacking off, or breaking rule six hundred and seventeen, or he may just ask you to do it again. if colours could speak, his face would scream in comparison to the red accents in the housewarden’s room, uniform and matching hair.
you attempt to keep a sober expression but he seriously cannot be so flustered by a single kiss? the red lip stain on his cheek is bright against the flush of his cheeks, as he sputters vowels and consonants, attempting to speak, to protest, to ask you what in the queen’s name are you doing.
you invited riddle over to the ramshackle dorm under the guise of needing help with studying, but you had this motive the entire time. riddle could feel your rebel to his help and directions if he ignored the obvious fact you hadn’t even cracked the spine of your book yet (to be fair it was only assigned today, and it was a new book), and the devious smile you attempted to hide until now.
riddle took a breath, finally feeling sensible enough, “what… was that.”
“affection, riddle. this isn’t new.” you shot, tone dripping in sarcasm.
“yes, my rose, i know that. i mean,” he grabs hold of your uniform tie, drawing you closer, “what’s with the lipstick?” your head probably could have exploded, where did this riddle come from and how can he be drawn out more often?
you press a swift kiss to riddle’s other cheek, thanks to the proximity. “i have no explanation,” you press another kiss onto his forehead, “i simply was gifted it,” a kiss to his temple, “this morning.” the grip riddle has on your tie loosens completely as it falls back onto your chest, slightly wrinkled from the force.
“i just had this ironed!” you frown.
“i-i’ll get it done again.” riddle stands, brushing invisible dust off his jacket, though nothing could distract from the shade of pink that covers his face.
“you’ll iron my tie for me? how kind.” you wrap an arm around riddle’s waist, pulling him close. he drops his forehead against your chest with a thud, inaudibly mumbling to himself.
you wrap your other arm around him as he takes your face between his hands, slightly squishing into your cheeks he drags your face to his height, kissing you feverishly.
“where did this riddle come from? i like him.”
“i just felt… bold i suppose.” riddle’s red tinted lips smile against yours.
“do it again!”
leona stirs underneath you. you’re sat, straddling either side of his hips, weight pressed on his defined torso. leona doesn’t know it but you’ve practically trapped him where he sleeps. where he’s asleep currently, that is. in your dorm.
on your couch.
using your pillows, taking in the setting sun like a true feline, though you would never dare utter the word feline anywhere near him lest you face the wrath of a moody boyfriend.
you silently laugh to yourself, leaning down and pressing your lips on the prince’s temple.
leona stirs again at that, attempting to roll over – he cracks an eye when you gasp. slowly, coming to his senses, he furrows his brows at your positioning. you weren’t there when he fell asleep, when did you do that, and why are you sitting on him with half of a sinister smile across your lips…
and when did your lips turn red? he brings a hand up to rub his face, trying to shake the sleep out of his fogged mind, but you catch his hand before it makes contant.
“don’t, it’ll mess up all my hard work,” you say with a half hint of embarrassment. (just a hint; only because you were caught before you could slip away undiscovered.)
leona’s confusion increases, as he detaches your hand from his wrist. he takes his freed hand up to your lips and swipes his thumb across your bottom lip, smudging it further across the line of your lip.
he inspects his red finger, “is this… lipstick?” you purse your lips in an attempt to stifle the laugh that bubbles in your chest. he looks ridiculous; eyes half lidded, nose crunched in focus and red marks painting his face.
your tinted lips curl upwards slightly into a smug grin, “maybe?” if leona knows one thing, it’s smug grins. he matches yours and wipes his thumb on your cheek, smearing the lipstick off his thumb and onto your skin.
you playfully swat his hand away and lean down to continue painting your masterpiece, placing another kiss on his skin – onto the spot between his eyebrows. leona’s hand find your hip, giving a teasing pinch to the side.
leona may be a prince used to some pampering, but this is some treatment he could get used to.
azul has a finger in every pie, as riddle likes to say. you’re very much aware of that as your boyfriend likes to talk your ear off about his investments, new opportunities and the lounge. you’re so very proud of all of his hard work but sometimes he gets off on a tangent that doesn’t stop until you make him. usually with a kiss. it flusters him just enough that he forgets what he was going on about and it works every time.
this time, however, was a bit different. azul didn’t take notice of the hue change of your lips as you leaned in and shut him up. drawing back, you snicker at his pursed lips and flushed cheeks, and the red lipstick smeared around his lips.
azul peeked in your direction, curious. you usually find it funny when he’s flustered like this but you were laughing a little too much. he noticed the messy red lipstick and furrowed his brows, wiping a finger across his lips.
you suppressed a smile as you watched him curiously examine his stained finger, “it’s lipstick.” he concludes.
“well… obviously? i thought that would have been pretty clear,” you grab his hand, wiping the red off of his finger.
before azul can retort you lean in to kiss him again; anywhere you can get your lips on before he shells himself away, utterly embarrassed. a kiss to his cheek, jaw, forehead, nose, other cheek, forehead again, has him sputtering, almost begging to be released.
azul places his free hand on your shoulder, trying to push you away while laughing between breaths. when you do back up, leaning back on your hand, he almost looks sad. (as if he wasn’t actively trying to get you off!)
“so, mister ashengrotto? feeling loved and appreciated yet?” you give him a toothy grin, watching as his face contorts from flustered to even-more-flustered. (if that’s possible.)
“well yes! i dare say i’m feeling very valued and cherished as well.” despite his rosy features, his voice is unwavering, full of conviction.
his confident, put-together outer layer completely melts away when you’re alone with him, but this has him absolutely on fire, a feeling no number could replace. numbers can’t give affection, you give it tenfold in their stead.
kalim’s permanent grin widens when you claim you’ve got a gift for him. he expectantly holds out his hands, making you shake your head.
“it’s more of an eyes closed kind of gift,” you start, kalim instantly squeezes his eyes shut. he puts so much trust in you that you worry jamil has eyes everywhere. everywhere. but you brush the jesting idea away, believing that you wouldn’t even be allowed on scarabia grounds if jamil didn’t trust you with the housewarden.
you turn to a nearby mirror, passing the tube of red lipstick over your lips. the smooth makeup applies nice and neatly. (doesn’t matter because you know it won’t be neat for long.)
you step back over to where kalim’s sitting on the edge of his bed, standing between his knees. he’s waiting not-so patiently, he looks like he’s almost vibrating, is he really that excited? you suppress a smile as you gently grab onto his jaw, tilting his head to the side as you press your lips to his cheek. his laughter immediately fills the room, making you press more kisses over his face. one to his forehead, one on the nose, another on the other cheek, his temples, and anywhere you can get before he’s laughing too much, pushing you away.
“it tickles,” he heaves a breath, “stop!” a wider smile grows on his face after seeing yours, the red lipstick you applied had smudged around your lips, looking not-so neat. his face isn’t much better, tan skin littered in red kisses.
while you’re mentally retaining the image of kalim covered in red lip marks, you notice him looking more intently at you. you raise a brow, curiously.
“my turn, give it here!” he reaches a hand out, expecting the tube of lipstick?
you look at him bewildered, “what?”
“my turn!” he repeats. he seems real set on returning the ‘gift’ it seems. kalim’s all smiles as you hand him the black tube. he exposes the stick and passes it over his own lips, tossing it aside and pulling you down to his seated height. he flattens his lips across the expanse of your face, getting at any skin he can just like you did to him.
when he deems he’s finished, you’re dazed and equally covered in red lipstick stains, smiles wide across your faces. matching stained faces for matching blitheringly infatuated idiots.
vil leans on the back of his vanity chair; his face littered in different coloured lip marks. the reason? he claims he wants to see which ones compliment him the most.
you know he already knows exactly which shades of each brand line do exactly that. (thanks, rook.) vil doesn’t know that you know he’s already figured this out.
you wipe the makeup remover-soaked cotton pad across your lips, ridding it of the pink. “what would all of your fans think if they knew you were being covered completely in rainbow kisses?” you wipe the moisture from your lips as vil reaches around you to grab another tube, but you stop him.
“i’m sure they would lose their minds,” you reach into your pocket, revealing a miscellaneous tube of lipstick, it matches none of the previously discarded lipsticks, nor does it have a brand logo on it. “where did you find this?” vil takes the lipstick in his hand, nimbly examining the exterior. he removes the top to reveal a rich, velvety red colour. his eyes widen just slightly.
“it’s a secret,” you wink and take the lipstick from him and apply it, smiling as you replace its cap and let it fall from your hand, onto a messy vanity behind you.
vil wraps an arm around your neck, drawing you closer to his seated level, “well, share your secret with me, if you would be so kind.” you swiftly close the gap between yourself and the housewarden, administering a healthy dose of red onto his lips and the surrounding skin.
he parts first, his cheeks dawn a hint of pink that’s hidden behind the various stains on his otherwise perfect skin. he truly is the most beautiful person ever. makeup or not, hair tied back or loose, vil is sincerely as pretty as the morning's first light, a flower; freshly bloomed, and a fresh set of nails.
“you’re staring. not that i mind,” you snap out of your hazy daydream about your gorgeous boyfriend and back into reality.
“yeah, sorry. you’re just really fucking pretty.” you lean down and tenderly kiss his forehead as he internally squeals like one of his fan-girls. he really hit the jackpot with you as his (second) biggest fan.
idia looks up at you with wide yellow eyes, but they have a sort of gloss over them that makes you believe he would not want you to get up and leave his dorm right now. you grin at his feeble attempt of a silent, inconclusive plea. an ask to what, you’re unsure because his face (minus the eyes) and hands grabbing at you tell you he’s very much enjoying you straddling his hips right now.
you reach into your pocket, revealing your master plan. a tube of lipstick, you swipe it over your lips once, then twice before replacing the cap and tossing it down, letting it hit the plush bedsheet you’re atop.
the translucent tips of his hair start to turn pink as you lean down towards his face. a trembling hand comes up to your shoulder, not pushing you away but seemingly grounding the housewarden underneath you. “how cute,” you smile against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another to his left cheek, then the right. one more on his forehead for good measure. maybe one more. okay, one last one couldn’t hurt.
you sit upright and drag a hand down idia’s chest, over the sweater you know is probably two sizes to large for him, (but that’s how he likes them you suppose and it just makes for a more comfortable sweater when you steal ‘em) while admiring the definitely not smudge-proof lipstick marks on idia’s face, giggling as you compare the red smears to his blue features. you wonder if-
the rapid rise and fall of idia’s chest catches your attention, it almost sounds like he’s hyperventilating, but when you look up to his face it’s surrounded by fiery pink hair and a flush across his cheeks, spanning down his neck, you realize he’s fine. probably a little more than fine.
“well, that’s some false advertising,” you smile, wiping at the edges of your lips lightly with a finger. idia snaps out of his stupor, hastily agreeing with a stuttered breath. his hands find your hips, giving you a small squeeze. you lean down and press a proper kiss to his lips, you lift away just as quick as you bent down, pushing idia back down as he chases you up, hoping for more. a pitiful whine escapes him as his hair burns brighter.
the red lipstick mixes with his natural blue lips gives him a sort of purple that would put the octavinelle’s house colour to shame. though, he almost looks forlorn. the usual solemn and gloomy housewarden; reduced to a blushing mess after a few kisses.
hilarious, isn’t it?
malleus’s eyes flutter shut, a pleased sigh escapes his lips. his hands, hidden by your sweater, trace messy patterns on your back as his nails scratch lightly. he’s unsure of how he got himself into this humanoid predicament but he’s not complaining.
you’re sat in his lap, placing kisses all over his face, leaving red lip marks behind.
“you look like you’re enjoying this more than i am, malleus.” you bring a hand up to rake it through his bangs, pushing them behind his horns and revealing the shiny scales hidden beneath.
the housewarden cracks a sharp emerald eye, examining your features. the slope of your nose, the curve of your stained lips, your eyelashes, cheeks. your eyes. oh how he loves your eyes, the way they look up to him with adoration, not fear or indifference like other humans do.
you cup his cheek, “malleus?”
he blinks once, twice. the gloss over his eyes breaks, refocusing on you. “i apologize, i was lost in thought.”
“i could tell,” you trace your finger to the tip of his ear, then drop your hand back into your lap. “what were you thinking of? me?”
“yes.”
“woah, okay. blunt!” heat rises to your face.
a hand leaves your back, trailing around your side and up to tuck a piece of hair away from your eyes. “was i not suppose to tell the truth?”
“no, malleus, you should have said you were thinking of pancakes.”
“but i wasn’t? i was thinking of-” you cut him off, placing a kiss on his lips.
“now, let me resume my art.”
malleus is more than happy to sit as still as the gargoyle statues he studies while you press kisses all over his face. he is, truly is.
this was so self indulgent i ain’t even sorry (is my favouritism showing??)
"is he single!?" your attention is drawn behind you, to where a group of insignificant chatterboxes cluster together like they're trying to start a mob. their quips died down instantly when someone in the group shushed the rest and you released the breath you were holding. you return your attention to your friends in front of you.
a few minutes pass and another comment catches your ear, "i mean, there's a leech on his side, but other than that, just look! he's so picture perfect." you fight the urge to crane your neck around, to stare directly into the heart of the group with piercing eyes, to let them know that they are anything but quiet. all the while hoping they're not talking about your boyfriend, who's arm is wrapped comfortably around your waist, holding you ever so close. like a leech.
you snicker to yourself at the backwards use of their ugly nickname, gaining the attention of your boyfriend, who asks what's so funny, and comments that no one said anything worth laughing over.
"oh, no reason." you smile as you wrap an arm around to rest on his back. what he can't see is that you folded all fingers down but the middle one so that you're flipping off the group of prattlers stood behind him.
you lean into his side more and press a sweet kiss onto his cheek, he retorts by turning you back to him and pressing a lasting kiss to your lips as muted gasps and scoffs were heard. someone in the group attempts to silence their peers but their calls fall upon deaf ears. "whatever, let's go."
you relax against him as the group disperses, a content sigh escape your lips.
a moment passes, before your boyfriend leans to whisper, "were they bothering you?"
"what? no!" yes. they were annoying. is what you meant.
your boyfriend kisses your temple, "sure. oh, and you're not a leech, my love." you turn your face away, hiding the heat that rushes to your cheeks at the fact he cracked your code so quick.
if your friends could look any more grossed out at the sickly sweet pda, they probably would. but you don't care, your boyfriend is the sweetest 🤍
ace cannot sit in chairs properly. at all. it drives riddle insane but you find it hilarious, he'll have a leg slung over the side of a velvety chair, perfectly placed so that he's almost touching riddle with his foot, inching the housewarden to early greys. (his words, not yours.) when ace is visiting the ramshackle dorm, you welcome him to sit however he pleases, but chooses to sit like he had a board glued to his back. prim and proper like you're riddle's evil twin who will punish him for sitting straight.
deuce is always humming when he's around you. you have no idea why or if he even knows he's doing it. most time it's songs from the wonderland that you don't recognize. you got him to start recommending you songs when he thinks of them, so now you've got a playlist titled 'deuces humming habits' that you listen to often. (and since you can't access music from your home land... :[ )
jacked and kind. truly. jack is a sweetheart, he offers to carry your bags, open that damned jar or grab a book off the taller shelves for you. him and his unyielding sense of mutual respect would have him presenting his jacket to you at the slightest drop in temperature. jack invites you to the savanaclaw dorm building but ends up having to steer others away from you constantly because they want to challenge you (for some reason??).
silver likes to gift you rocks. whether they're shiny, smooth, textured, patterned or colourful, if silver likes the look of them he'll shove it into his pocket to be gifted to you later. after the mandatory nap. he started giving you the rocks a while ago, so you've now got window sill's full of glittering rocks that reflect the sunlight, making silver one of your first thoughts each morning.
kalim's hobby and love of parties and celebrations gives him a knack for decorating. he once showed up to the ramshackle dorm with a box full of tame decorations, they look like he swiped them off the mantles and shelves of the scarabia lounge with their golden colour and shiny nature, but he assured you these were in storage for a long time. you'll also often find a small box containing a new decoration or accessory to brighten up your ghost-ridden dorm on your front step, scribbled with kalim's hand writing.
ruggie sends you a message each morning, usually around the same time. his excuse is that he’s already making sure leona is awake so he may as well make sure you’re up too. but you think he just enjoys getting to tell you something each day, whether it’s a good morning, a random fact, a cooking or cleaning tip, (he’s really good a giving tips or hacks about a lot of things!) there’s always a message on your homescreen. (though he doesn’t do it for a return, he’s more than happy to accept if you offer him donuts. or a kiss he’s not picky.)
epel sneaks away to the ramshackle dorm, escaping vil and his damned vice housewarden's freaky signature spell (or at least he hopes..) to spend time with you. he'll drop his pretty boy act, pick his accent up and recount stories of his hometown to you. the intense passion he has while sharing the stories almost make you want to go to vil yourself and beg to keep his accent.
lilia will go out of his way to see how long it takes for you to notice when he’s walking behind you. if you’re lost in thought or deep in conversation with a friend and he notices he’ll start silently start following you, chucking to himself when you really don’t notice him. (there was once he was able to follow you from the nrc’s main doors all the way down the main street, down to the horse pastures before you realized there was a certain bat-like vanrouge waltzing beside you.)
sebek's respect for you grows with each day, despite you being human (even though he's half..), he'll start to protect your name when you're not around, confusing everyone around him, especially lilia and malleus, since he's only ever cared that much for them before. when you appear at the doors to the diasomnia dorms for a visit he'll beckon you in, and let you tell him about your day before returning the gesture and recounting his day to you, while slipping in small praises to malleus and his greatness, but you wouldn’t have him any other way. a loyal boy.
made this one longer than the other two so i didn't have a rogue post with only three characters lol
jamil knows each one of your habits, even the ones you think he doesn't, he does. his observance knows no end, he's always taking in information and storing it in parts of his mind that he can flip through like a filing cabinet. he can tell when you're overthinking something, or not thinking enough solely because he knows what to look for. he uses his observance against you sometimes, you simply can't hide anything from him. (stupid jamil and his educated guesses.)
trey shows up to the ramshackle dorm once a week with a small tray of desserts. it took him no time to realize which ones you'd set your sights on first; he starts bringing more of it, claiming 'there was extra' with a shrug. you knew it wasn't extra, ace, deuce, and hell, even grim wouldn't let a tray of trey's delicate sweets go to waste. you know he fought them off with a figurative stick to get them here untouched.
vil watches every ridiculous video you send him on magicam and reacts to the one or two he actually finds funny. he'll always reply to the cheesy relationship posts you send but he won't ever tell you about the small smile that graces his gorgeous features, no matter the attempts to suppress them. (rook caught him blushing lightly once and almost had his personal collections cursed.)
jade invites you to the mostro lounge under the guise that he's in need of help, but you quickly figured after the second visit upon jade's request that he is, in fact, perfectly fine and in need of no help, nor is the lounge in any dire need of an extra server. he just wanted you around. (an extra set of eyes on floyd never hurt anyone, either..)
rook uses your face as a makeup palette, "this is la roi du poison's new collection, you must let me try them out!" so you're sat in front of his vanity, face mismatched in foundations and blushes until rook finds your colours and shade matches, gushing about vil's inclusivity for all skin types and the coverage for such a small amount of product. you're left looking a little silly with a few incorrectly matched shade swatches on your cheek and neck but whatever makes the huntsman happy.
malleus leaves small flowers on the front step of ramshackle dorm before you know who he is, when he's still horton to you. you've never been able to catch who's leaving them, they're gone just as quick as you heard the rustling outside. when you're actually acquainted by name after the SDC he continues to leave colourful flowers on your doorstep, this time with a note, signing his actual name, inviting you along a walk occasionally.
akaashi keiji who absolutely loves you with everything he is, ever has been and ever will be.
akaashi "i'm gonna love you forever and ever and i'm not letting you go" keiji. fukurodani's lover boy, they called him. (thanks bokuto.)
he was teased by teammates when he'd mess up during practice because your knees were touching today and you didn't move away, but look at him now, he gets to touch your knee all he wants. oh and maybe your lips, hands, hips, and hair too.
keiji comes home late some nights, finding you asleep on the couch after attempting to stay awake to greet him when he came back. he'll kiss your forehead, waking you while suggesting going to bed to sleep properly. you'll climb into bed first then after a quick shower keiji will join you, quickly slipping into unconsciousness to the sound of your heartbeat and welcoming warmth.
keiji's once plain house now homes two, his shelves hold your shared interests, the tv plays your favourite show, the coatrack hangs two jackets, and the shoe rack has more than his work shoes thrown carelessly in front of it after a long day.
akaashi keiji who now has to look back in confusion when a voice he doesn't recognize calls his name, he can's sort the mail by last name anymore, and doesn't have to look in two different places for things corresponding to your last name because he's no longer the only akaashi in the house <3
