⋆. 𐙚 ˚𝓟eople keeps overlooking Yuu and Grim's relationship— but let's actually make a little drabble about an AU! where Grim and Yuu are platonic soulmates in every universe
Back in your world, you had a grumpy, mischievous, and hungry cat that you found in the trash and decided to foster, and later on you adopted him because no one wanted him. You were broke, and struggling, but you always bought the most expensive cat food in the pet store because that was the only thing that your cat wanted, and you couldn't let him starve— no matter how many meals you had to skip because of that, you would rather starve than ever see your cat go hungry or even upset.
So when you got transported in twisted wonderland, you were really distressed about the condition of your cat back in your world— "please I have to go home! My cat can't sleep without me" you begged the mirror, "how will he eat now?" You mumbled when the mirror revealed that it didn't find such a place here.
You missed your fatass cat.
"Who will take care of Grim? He won't let anyone touch him unless it's me! Please! Just let me go home!"
And ultimately, you gave up.
But a peculiar Tanuki looking creature broke in mid-begging and broke your concentration.
He introduced himself as Grim.
Deja vu hit you like a truck when he introduced himself. And as he continued to wreck havoc on the school, you can't help but think that "this is exactly how my cat will act if he could breath fire" you snorted.
When Grim broke in again in the courtyard. Your heart kept tugging on it's heartstrings when you pinned it to the ground with your broom— you ignored it, thinking that you just found him cute. But, as you two spent more time together, and ultimately ended up as a student in NRC. This tugging kept on happening, and everytime, you can't help but think 'is this some kind of soulmate thing?'— and yeah, you've read about soulmates before, but this little Tanuki can't be your soul mate right?
Grim, before his life with you, was meek, boring, and very miserable. He had to hunt scraps to eat, sometimes he starved, and sometimes people threw stones at him. So when he met you, he had this unexplainable feeling that you two were meant to meet together, fated to be stuck together as you ventured in this unfamiliar world, and as Grim got used to the unfamiliar social constructs and magic stuff.
'That doesn't make sense' he thinks. 'Me and my henchhuman never met before, so why do I have this feeling that we did?'
He asked you about it while you two were studying in the library— well, while you were studying and Grim was on his belly on your lap getting pets and all. Because that's how it always been, you even enabled his spoiled behaviors— much to your friends protests: you would reward him for doing the bare minimum, feed him expensive tuna while you essentially starved, and you would also keep him cleaned when you could barely do that without help.
"Henchhuman" he called out to you while you rubbed circles on his belly, you hummed as you read through your textbooks. "What do ya' call a feeling where: ya' feel like ya've met someone before even though ya' have never met this person in all your life"
You stopped for a second before you effortlessly replied. "I think that's called Deja Vu" he nodded in response.
"Y'know..." You continued "in my world, they say that if you experience Deja Vu with a person, it means that you are soulmates?" "What's that?" He asked gruffly as you continued to pet his fur and occasionally brush it using your fingers.
"Soulmates are two people that are together in every universe— or world"
He went quiet for a moment.
"Do ya' think we're soulmates?" You smiled and glanced down then pinced his chubby cheeks— probably from all the snacking he'd do during class that you would enable.
"wha- HEY!-" "of course I do" you chuckled. He huffed then settled down on your lap before purring. "Of course we are! Ya' would never survive without me"
You laughed and patted his head. "Hmmm... Of course I won't, you little fattie" you mumbled the last part with a snicker.
𝗔/𝗻: Grim and Yuu is my Roman empire 🥹 like I bare so much love for the two of them that you guys probably know because of how frequently I write the two of them 👀 and I know I keep saying that I love Idia BUT no one can top Grim and Yuu 🫶 my babies 🥺
HOW TO LOSE ALL YOUR SUITORS IN SEVEN DAYS: PROLOGUE
꒰ CHAPTER ONE ꒱ A trip to Mr. S’s Mystery Shop left your friends in possession of an ancient magical brooch, but thanks to Ace’s impulsiveness, it nearly sparked a scandal between the island’s two schools.
AUTHOR’S NOTES: first chapter is here!!! I’m still HATING this layout and formatting but when I do have the time I will fix it, trust!! I’m a very trustworthy Theo!!!! Also, not proofreading bc my eyes are hurting
Grim was restless, hopping from one side to the other, but the group was already used to that. Ace, as always, was the engine driving his friends toward trouble. This time, however, they weren't all that unhappy to go along with him.
He gestured expansively with an arrogant smirk, convinced that the solution to all their problems was hidden on the dark shelves of Sam’s shop. "We’re going to solve two problems at once! Our friend comes back to us, no boyfriend, no shady suitor, and that jerk will see that he shouldn’t mess with us."
"Are you really going to spend money on something like that?" Jack asked as they walked toward Mr. S's Mystery Shop.
"You didn't disagree when we were at the table, don't start now," Ace said. "Sam has magical trinkets we can't even imagine!"
The group's initial reluctance was quickly dissolved by the urgency of the situation—ahem, jealousy—, and they moved forward, driven by a reckless impulse.
It was the perfect opportunity, since the prefect was momentarily busy, having gone to get cleaning supplies in Foothill Town because Crowley had forgotten to restock the dorm’s cleaning cupboard.
"What if they runs into Azul in town?" Epel asked, the bell on the door chiming as they entered the establishment.
"Even better. When we get out of here, we’ll go straight after them. But he doesn’t really go there that much, so…" the redhead replied with a wicked grin, heading to the counter. "Wait? He’s not—"
"Looking for something, little demon?" Sam threw an arm around Deuce's shoulders, making him jump in fright. "My friends from the other side told me it’s something special…"
"We need something to make someone less attractive," Epel said, stepping forward, "…or something to stop him from flirting. That would be enough, I guess.”
"Ah. Matters of the heart." Sam laughed aloud, his shadow following his lead before it disappeared behind a shelf. "I have the perfect item for that!"
"Is it temporary?" Jack watched the shadow crawl along the floor and up the wall, handing its master what looked like a pendant, a crystal.
"Mhm." He replied, humming while he polished the object.
"Harmless?"
"As much as possible," Sam extended his hand, offering it to whichever boy was brave enough to take it. "Place this on the object of your… disdain, and he shall become exactly what he deserves to be."
"Nhwag! And what is that supposed to mean!?" Grim jumped onto the counter, tilting his head in suspicion.
Sam let out a low laugh, his eyes gleaming with mischievous malice under the dim light of the shop. "That, my little monster, depends entirely on the soul of the one who carries it. Don't think too much about the 'whys,' magic is just a bit dramatic sometimes. Don't you trust your host?"
Ace didn't waste time. With a shrug and a confident smirk, he grabbed the brooch—it was a violet crystal encased in a metal structure that vaguely resembled twisted roots. "Perfect. He deserves something quite ridiculous, doesn't he?"
After a generous payment, they left the shop without much hurry. As they crossed the town gate, the atmosphere of the village seemed normal…until they spotted the prefect standing near a fountain, talking to a young man with refined features and clothes that didn't look cheap at all.
"Who’s the guy she's laughing so much with?" Jack asked, frowning.
"That's the prince from the Scalding Sands!" Grim grumbled. "I've seen him before! When we were hanging out with Jamil!"
"I thought Kalim was the prince…" Deuce scratched his head.
"What is a guy from RSA doing here?" Epel blinked. "As if the idiots from our own school weren't enough…"
They approached discreetly, but Ace’s goal shifted instantly.
He was no longer interested in Azul. The sight of Minajael—so polished, so perfect, and so inconvenient—was the new target of his disdain. "These playboys…"
"Hey! Prefect!" Ace called out, forcing a radiant smile.
She turned, surprised. "Ace? What are you guys doing here?" She blinked, looking down to see Grim rubbing his head against her leg.
"We were just nearby, taking care of some... business," Jack replied, trying to reprimand Ace with a look, but the redhead was already invading the personal space between them and Minajael.
He stopped next to the prince, giving an exaggerated pat on the RSA boy's shoulder, as if they were old friends. "So, the new guy in town, huh?"
"I’ve been here longer than you," Minajael arched an eyebrow but kept a polite posture, as he was an acquaintance of the prefect. "You must be one of the prefect's classmates..."
As Minajael turned to greet him, Ace slid his hand behind the prince's shoulder, the brooch hidden in his palm, ready to attach it. "Classmates? Is that what they said? How modest, we’re best friends, you know?"
It was a quick, practiced movement, but the moment Ace's fingers touched the fabric of Minajael's coat, the brooch gave a metallic click, the pin piercing them both somehow.
Minajael jumped, and the redhead let out a shout of surprise, his finger hurting, trying to pull the brooch off, but it was magnetically stuck to both of them, pulling them closer together.
"What the—?!" Minajael exclaimed, losing his royal composure as a thick, purplish smoke began to emanate from where the brooch was stuck.
"Ace, you idiot, what did you do?!" Deuce screamed, lunging forward, but the flash of light blinded the group. When their vision returned to normal, they were left speechless.
On the ground, where the elegant RSA prince had been, there was now a small Bengal tiger, the size of a large cat. The animal growled, looking up and then down, its paws patting the stone ground in agitation.
Beside him, however, the animal was… less majestic. A small frog, skinny like a toad and reddish in color. He looked at his own little paws, then opened his mouth to squawk.
The animal jumped clumsily toward the Prefect, who recoiled, almost kicking it in fear if not for Deuce stopping them.
Minajael didn't seem confused by his new form; he looked irritated. He fixed his brownish eyes on the reddish frog, and with a spring, pounced on him. Epel tried to hold him back, almost tripping over his own shoes.
Ace kept jumping away, trying to dodge, and emitting sounds that sounded more like screams than croaks. He jumped clumsily onto his friend's legs, and the prefect yelled, "Get off! Get off!" They swatted him away, throwing him back onto the ground.
"I hope he actually eats that idiot for doing something so dumb!" Grim ran in circles, trying to grab the tiger's tail, but Minajael was too fast, ignoring everyone and focusing solely on hunting the amphibian.
After a few minutes of a humiliating chase, they managed to contain the two. Minajael was huffing, trapped inside a reinforced basket that Epel had grabbed from a nearby stall, while Ace was contained inside a glass jar.
"Now what?" Deuce asked, sweating cold. "If the headmaster finds out about this... I can't get expelled because of this idiot..."
"And again, I have to fix your messes," the prefect said, wiping the sweat from their forehead with an expression of pure frustration and anger directed straight at the glass where the frog was.
"I'm really sorry, it was an emergency," the prefect rubbed their temples, taking a deep breath to avoid picking up one of the trays and burying their friend's face in it.
Azul laughed, observing the brooch. "Don't worry, we're good friends, aren't we? It's only natural for me to lend a hand when you need it."
After returning to normal, Ace swore it was just a toy meant for pranks.
"We just wanted to test the toy! Nobody knew it would go wrong!" He had sputtered.
Azul pretended to believe him. He knew exactly that it wasn't a simple store trinket, but he had no intention of telling the prefect. If he could keep the item and still keep the group in his debt for "solving" the problem, it would be the perfect deal.
"I'm glad it didn't turn into a bigger scandal, it's good that you chose to trust me over Headmaster Crowley,” Azul sighed, closing his hand over the brooch and hiding it in his sleeve. "Imagine the disaster: an expulsion and a diplomatic incident on top of it."
The door to Azul's office closed with a metallic click, echoing through the empty hall of the Mostro Lounge.
The group stared at her apprehensively, Deuce being the first to break the silence with his voice choked by anxiety. "So?"
Grim, who was balanced on Jack's shoulder, was visibly trembling. "Did he ask for a lot? That octopus doesn't do anything for free, you know that! Damn, this is what happens when you trust Ace!"
The prefect stopped walking and sighed. "It's all resolved, I talked to Minajael before he left."
"Thank the Seven," Epel exhaled in relief.
"But what about Azul?" Jack insisted, taking a step forward, his expression serious. "Did he accept the brooch as payment? What did he ask for in exchange for solving this whole mess?"
She shrugged, starting to walk toward the exit of the establishment without giving room for more questions. "Azul has his methods, and I have mine. The matter is closed. I don't want to hear another word about what happened; it will be worse if it reaches Crowley."
"Hey, wait a minute!" Ace tried to protest. "We were just playing around! No need to be like that—"
the no-seeing, no-hearing, no-talking baking challenge , hc's
.✦ ݁˖ You convinced them to try the viral baking challenge... One of you is blindfolded, one wears noise-canceling headphones, and one isn't allowed to speak. And you're the 'judge'!
teams → trey, deuce, ace & epel, sebek, jack.
trey clover
ㅤBecause of his baking skills, Trey was the obvious choice to go blindfolded. And he does well! During the first half, he’s very calm. He knows the kitchen layout like the back of his hand.
ㅤ“This shouldn’t be too difficult,” Trey stated.
ㅤThe problem for Trey, however, is that his strength for baking is precision. And just exactly, how can he measure ingredients perfectly while blindfolded? But don’t underestimate him; he’s still confident!
ㅤ“This is going better than expected,” Trey says, cracking an egg into a bowl, narrowly missing.
ㅤMeanwhile, Y/N is watching as eggshell pieces fall into the mixing bowl. “...You sure?”
ㅤ“I choose to believe so, yes.” - Trey.
ace trappola
ㅤAce, even without being able to speak, is already a problem himself. He yaps all the time. The second the challenge starts, Ace opens his mouth. In return, everyone reminds him that he can’t talk.
ㅤHe spends most of the challenge doing dramatic faces and waving his arms around. Hitting Deuce in the back a couple of times.
ㅤDeuce is looking at Ace, confused, when he (Ace) points at the flour. Deuce hands him sugar, Ace is annoyed.
ㅤ“What?! You pointed at the container!” - Deuce, Ace facepalms.
ㅤHis solution to not being able to talk is to use charades, and it still backfires on him. He gives up almost immediately.
deuce spade
ㅤEveryone thinks that Headphones are the easiest role, but they are not wrong! Since hearing about the challenge, Deuce has been very determined to do well. He takes baking extremely seriously after all.
ㅤEven as Ace and Trey try to guide him as much as they can, Deuce still cannot understand anything. Ace points at the oven; Deuce gives him a thumbs up. Ace frantically points at the oven, Deuce, not trying to, yells. “I know, man! This is so easy!!!”
ㅤDeuce mishears everything Trey tries to say. He hears “flour” as “flower” and ends up searching for five minutes for any flowers.
ㅤDeuce lives in his own world of peacefully mixing batter; he thinks everyone is doing great!
ㅤIn the end, he gets really happy about being the only one who did great. He tries to act cool about it, but he fails.
sebek zigvolt
ㅤEveryone knows this is going to be the hardest challenge for him. Getting Sebek to stay quiet is already impossible.
ㅤY/N, “Sebek, you can’t speak for the challenge!”
ㅤ“I UNDERSTAND-” Sebek starts, but Y/N hushes him before he can continue.
ㅤThe first five minutes are painful for him. Sebek tries to communicate through pointing and his facial expression. It works for Jack at least! Epel… not so much. Sebek pointed at eggs, and Epel doesn’t even know he’s “talking” to him.
ㅤThe biggest struggle for Sebek is the need to want to correct everything everyone is doing. His eye keeps twitching whenever he sees Jack mixing 1.009 seconds too slowly.
ㅤHe does, however, follow instructions very carefully, doing good at baking.
epel felmier
ㅤImmediately says, "I trust you guys!!" The biggest mistake he ever said.
ㅤEpel is excited! He gets to show off his skills after all. When baking, he tries to calculate where everything should be; hence, he stared long and hard at the kitchen layout beforehand.
ㅤHe eventually gets competitive and refuses to admit he’s struggling.
ㅤDespite everything, Epel is pretty good at adapting. He just uses his other senses to figure things out, also stubborn enough that he refuses to quit.
ㅤEpel, through out baking, occasionally puts icing on everything but the cake.
jack howl
ㅤJack puts on headphones is the chilliest person in the room that’s baking.
ㅤHe randomly gives Epel and Sebek thumbs-ups even if they weren’t doing well or needed them.
Whenever Sebek tries the charades him ingredients he needs, Jack is pretty good at catching on.
ㅤConstantly asks Y/N if he's using the mixer correctly.
ㅤHowever, during the rest of the baking, even if Epel and Sebek have trouble, he’s completely unaware. He doesn’t even understand why everyone looks exhausted afterward!
it's 1am rn so pls ignore any grammatical errors 🚬 \\ yandere below the cut
thinking of famous men who keep a low profile, men who are notoriously private about their personal lives and treat their social media like a contractual obligation, posting the occasional trailer, campaign, or magazine cover at the behest of their manager before disappearing for weeks at a time. men who never hard launch, soft launch, or launch at all. and your partner is one such man.
your partner, mr. worldwide, who leaves everyone stunned when pixelated photographs of him wandering into a patisserie one monday afternoon begin circulating online. he's dressed in nothing more than a tank top, old shorts and slippers, checking his phone with one hand, a paper bag secured in the other. the photos are a delight to his fans, serving as proof that their beloved untouchable idols buy pastries and queue like everyone else, but the constellation of fading bruises and fresh bite marks scattered across his shoulders and collarbones pushed the otherwise mundane post into virality. the marks were remnants of the night you'd just spent tangled together, before you sleepily confessed a craving then drifted off to sleep.
your loyal partner, who makes it painfully obvious that he's spoken for, yet refuses to indulge the world's curiosity beyond that. he laughs loudly through invasive interview questions, cracking jokes with no mirth in his eyes and leaving the hosts to shift uncomfortably instead. he has watched his peers' partners get dissected by tabloids, stalked by obsessive fans, threatened for daring to exist beside someone famous, and decided that you will remain the only part of his life the world will never be allowed to touch. it's fortunate that your online presence is little more than a forgotten account used to keep up with old friends.
he slips away from galas and afterparties at the earliest opportunity, bored by conversations that dissolve into networking disguised as friendship, disgusted by the hopeful starlets who smile too brightly and linger too long with hands that always dare to trace under the cuff of his sleeves. cheating may have become another open secret among the wealthy, another vice ignored, but he found the thought revolting. not out of virtue alone, but because no one else's attention could ever compare to yours.
your attentive partner, who always asked questions out of curiosity and interest in your life. "who are you meeting today? how long will you be out? did you get home safely?" he's a lover who cares, a lover whose questions recently carried an undercurrent of something you couldn't quite name.
"did your colleague always message you this late?" was asked with the faintest hint of concern while you were washing up in the bathroom.
"have you always been so physically affectionate with your friends?" came after you showed him a group photo from a recent outing with old classmates, your arm slung around one shoulder as you leaned comfortably into another, leaving you struggling with an unprecedented sense of shame.
he remembered every answer with startling precision, knowing your schedule better than you do and casually pointing out that your train home had been delayed before you even checked your phone yourself.
your doting partner, who insists that he only worries because people have become frighteningly invasive, who quietly hires security after someone asked him for a photo while he was ordering your treats at that one patisserie you fancied. what if someone connected the dots while you were visiting it by yourself? he didn't even realise how insane he sounded, but you complied anyway to dispel his worries.
your concerned partner, who convinced you to let him install tracking apps on your phone—not because he doesn't trust you, of course, but because he can't trust everyone else. he replaced your old device with a newer one after claiming the previous one had been compromised, reassuring you that everything had already been transferred over.
your involved partner, who slowly begins editing your life in ways so subtle they almost escape notice. discouraging certain friendships because they seem draining, suggesting you work from home because the commute exhausts you, wondering aloud whether your career is really worth the stress when he earns enough for the both of you to live comfortably for lifetimes.
he never tells you what to do, simply nonchalantly offering easier alternatives to problems you didn't even know you had.
your perfectionist partner, who frowns whenever your plans change unexpectedly and asks you to let him know before making arrangements. your controlling partner, who starts expecting that courtesy that is entitled to him. your aggressive partner, who grows irritated when he isn't consulted, who eventually stops asking altogether, informing you instead that he already cancelled dinner with your friends because you looked tired that morning.
he knows what's best for you, doesn't he?
your dearly beloved partner, who becomes so consumed by the thought of protecting the only untouched corner of his life. your hallowed partner, who keeps you hidden so thoroughly that, somewhere along the way, you disappear from everyone else's world, and then from your own, one fragment of your autonomy at a time. your ambitions are packed away into spare bedrooms. your routines become his routines. your voice grows quieter because he already knows what you're going to say.
your man, who is so obsessed with keeping you private, with keeping your existence small enough to slip unnoticed beneath the hungry gaze of the public, that he never realised how your existence has shrunken beyond recognition, consumed by his own gluttony until the person he loved had become nothing more than a beautiful reflection of himself.
your man who takes pride in the way you welcome him home with a kind smile as soon as the elevator doors open into the safety of your shared penthouse, already there waiting, as though nothing had ever separated the moment he left from the moment he returned.
this is for all my fellow readers who only vaguepost online, because i will not be caught dead posting a selfie lmao. inspired by all the fics about bllk boys publicly crushing over famous mcs because i want to see it reversed! what if the mc isn't in the public eye? what if the relationship wasn't launched at all? what would be the motivation for that? what about the power imbalance and pressure about dating a celebrity? i then thought about how there are only speculations of who zendaya married iirc. the men here were inspired by valaar in memories by darktargslut and this tweet lol.
You are doing the slightest thing that suggests cuteness in front of him. Looking at him with those widened eyes and a soft smile on your face. Just absolutely glowing for no reason, or maybe that's just how he sees you through rose-colored glasses 24/7.
Idia, on the other hand, was unfazed. "What an idiot…" he scoffed, turning his head away to hide his growing blush and wobbling smile.
Meanwhile, a little sneak peek through his mind: AHFBHDABFDHAG?? WHY ARE THEY DOING THAT EXPRESSION?? SO FUCKING CUTE, LET ME KISS THEM. I WANNA NOM THEM, SQUISH THEM- PLEASE LET ME SQUISH THOSE CHEEKS; I NEEDED IT SO BADLY AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA—
"Now, can you leave me alone?" He turned back to you, his expression returning to its usual aloofness. "Unlike you, I have other things to do than…" He takes one look at your face, immediately regrets it, then internally sighs in defeat.
Please, someone, help him before he can reach your face, play with it like Play-Doh, and coo sweet nothings. SOMEONE HELP—
Was just wondering for a request, a reader who has a RBF (resting bitch face), with the first years? (Or whoever you’d like to do)
Maybe just scenario’s of them thinking the reader is mad or smth but they ain’t - or they’re talking abt their first interaction and one of them mentions how when they first met they thought the reader had like one sided beef with them or smth 😭😭
IDK IF THAT MAKES SENSE but if you like the request have fun with it!!
Born to Look Mad, Forced to Explain
pair: Ace / Deuce / Jack / Epel / Sebek / Ortho x GN! reader
[TWST masterlist]🍨 [masterlist]
a/n🍨 : Thank you so much for the request!! I really appreciate it🩵💛🩷 This prompt is actually something I can relate to way too much, AHAHAHA. A lot of my close friends admitted that their first impression of me was that I looked really intimidating or like I was mad at them all the time.
Funny enough, I think that the same rbf also kindaaa helped me during my makeup artist certification classes. Whenever we took photos of our finished makeup looks, my teacher would always tell me, "Don't smile—it doesn't suit you." (what an odd thing to say ngl)😭 And when I was the makeup face canvas for my classmates, they'd say the same thing too. The moment I smiled for the camera, they'd immediately go, "No, no, don't smile. Your neutral face looks better." LIKE… HELLO?? HAHAHAHA
I never thought my serious-looking face would actually be useful for something, but I guess it made me a good canvas for makeup practice. So yes… this fic was written from personal experience. To everyone blessed with rbf, I see you ദ്ദി(˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✨ i do love smiling more now though ✨🩷
Ace Trappola
The first time Ace met you, you were standing outside the Heartslabyul gardens with your arms crossed, your eyes half-lidded, and a face that suggested someone had personally insulted your ancestors three generations back.
Sunlight was doing everything it could to soften your features yet it failed spectacularly.
Ace made the catastrophic mistake of assuming you were looking at him. Which meant, naturally, he'd somehow already offended you despite not remembering your name, your face, or your existence until approximately seven seconds ago. So he spent the next week mentally reviewing every misdemeanor he'd committed since birth, convinced one of them had finally caught up with him in human form.
Ace: "Okay, seriously. What did I do?"
You: "…Huh?"
Ace: "You've been glaring at me since orientation."
You: "I've… been waiting for the kettle to boil."
Ace: "…That's your waiting face?"
You: "That's just my face."
Ace: "…I've been apologizing to you in my head for nine days."
Deuce Spade
Deuce noticed your expression before he noticed anything else about you. There was something almost judicial about it, as though you had already read the entire tragic novel of his former delinquency and reached a deeply disappointing conclusion. Every time your eyes landed on him, he straightened his posture like he was appearing before the world's sternest school principal.
Eventually, he became absurdly polite whenever you were nearby. Doors were held open. Chairs were pulled out. Homework was completed suspiciously early. Ace thought Deuce was relapsing into being weird.
In reality, Deuce simply believed you were one sigh away from reporting him for crimes both committed and hypothetical.
Deuce: "…Can I ask you something?"
You: "Sure."
Deuce: "…Do you… not like me?"
You: "…What?"
Deuce: "You always look mad."
You: "…I'm thinking about soup."
Deuce: "…Soup?"
You: "I really like soup."
The revelation somehow made less sense than the imagined grudge.
Jack Howl
Jack had always trusted his instincts. They were sharp and dependable things, inherited from generations that survived on reading the smallest shift in another creature's posture. So when he first met you, standing by the track field with a face carved into permanent and magnificent disapproval that every instinct he possessed unanimously agreed:
You did not like him.
It didn't help that every time he looked up during practice, there you were, expression unchanged, staring vaguely in his direction while actually watching a bird perched on the fence behind him.
Jack interpreted every accidental glance as silent evaluation. He ran harder. Trained longer. Picked up every stray water bottle after practice because maybe—maybe—you'd finally think he was respectable enough to stop glaring.
Jack: "Can I ask you something?"
You: "Sure."
Jack: "…Have I… done something to upset you?"
You: "…No?"
Jack: "Then why do you always look at me like that?"
You: "…There's a crow that plans to steal someone's lunch every afternoon."
Jack: "A crow."
You: "Yeah."
Jack: "…I've been competing with a bird."
Epel Felmier
Epel was taught by Vil that smiles can meant war. The polite and noble ones. The sort that looked sweet while quietly arranging your funeral flowers. So when he met you—wearing the facial expression of someone attending the execution of joy itself—he assumed you were exactly that type.
Every interaction became painfully courteous. He greeted you with courtesy . Thanked you for things you hadn't done. Apologized whenever you happened to exist within the same hallway.
Vil eventually noticed Epel looking like he was negotiating a peace treaty every time you walked by.
Epel: "…Did I offend ya somehow?"
You: "Why would you say that?"
Epel: "Ya look like ya wanna poison me."
You: "…I was trying to remember if I left my laundry in the dryer."
Epel: "…That's the face ya make thinkin' about laundry?"
You: "Yeah."
Epel: "…Yer laundry got the face of a blood feud."
Sebek Zigvolt
Sebek considered himself an excellent judge of character. Unfortunately, he was also catastrophically dramatic.
The first time your eyes met his, your expression remained perfectly still—the same expression you'd worn while eating breakfast, reading a book, and blinking. Sebek, however, interpreted your naturally stern face as a declaration of ancient hostility.
Surely you had detected some imperfection within him. Surely this was a challenge. Surely destiny had selected him for psychological combat. Silver listened to this theory for nearly fifteen minutes before deciding sleep was preferable.
Sebek: "I DEMAND TO KNOW WHY YOU REGARD ME WITH SUCH CONTEMPT!"
You: "…I'm sorry?"
Sebek: "YOUR CONSTANT GLARE!"
You: "…but I'm just squinting."
Sebek: "…Why?"
You: "The sun?"
Sebek looked up and yes indeed that the afternoon sun was directly in your eyes. Now he refused to speak for the next twenty minutes out of pure embarrassment.
Silver, from somewhere nearby:
"I told you."
Ortho Shroud
Ortho approached your expression scientifically.
First scan classified it as Angry: 82%.
Second scan classified it as Annoyed: 76%.
Tenth scan simply displayed: :(
He began quietly reviewing every interaction you'd ever had together, convinced he had unknowingly hurt your feelings. Idia found him making spreadsheets titled "Possible Social Errors (?) Of Y/N" and wisely chose not to interfere.
Ortho: "Y/N, may I ask a question?"
You: "Of course."
Ortho: "Are you upset with me?"
You: "…No?"
Ortho: "My facial recognition software says you look unhappy."
You: "Oh don't worry about it. This is just my face."
Processing…
Processing…
Ortho: "Update complete!"
You: "So what changed?"
Ortho: "I have created a new category."
You: "…What category?"
Ortho: Resting Friend Face (Looks Mean, Is Actually Thinking About Snacks.)
You: "…I was thinking about snacks."
Ortho: "Excellent! My data is accurate!"
The first time Vil sees your hair stroken by the sun, you are like a revelation: the moon that makes the shadows fade and fail, a stream of shades in the blankness of the day, a flower among the pale rocks. Luckily, the boy's here to see the scene of you stepping in the afternoon and having your hair color ignited by the light and moving in a breeze only he can feel: if someone had told him how the sun seemed to be in love with your strands, he would have not believed them; but now he cannot hide himself the truth, and just stares at your head in a shocked silence. It's... beautiful.
No, Vil doesn't know you, and before this he've barely noticed you; but now he cannot forget the sight of your locks, their allure, their perfection. And as soon as you see him and smile, the first time of many to come, Vil knows he'll struggle keeping you out of his mind, from now on. In this battle, he's defeated from the start.
The first time Vil reads the fanfics you've written on him, everything happens too quickly: you forget the papers on the desk at the end of the class or drop them on the floor without noticing, and as luck would have it, he's the one who picks them up. And of course, he reads every single word written on them.
You won't see those fics anymore: once he finishes to study them with the accuracy of an academic teacher, Vil puts them away in his bag and, when in his room, locks them in a drawer or hides them behind his personal supply of potions and poisons. For a period of time, the boy doesn't tell you anything: he leaves you wriggling in the torment of not knowing what happened to your precious, poetic fantasies and who found and read them, a more than amused smirk on his face as he observes how embarrassed you are whenever you two meet in the hallways; but the housewarden knows time and silence are the most powerful tools he can use, so he savors every second before calling you in his room - right when you less expect it.
Dimed light when you enter, shadows sensually moving around the space and the high chair Vil is seated on, his posture elegant but far from innocuous, the boy doesn't say a word: he just stares at you with his purple eyes of a tiger, unable to hold on a smile full of pity and a ghost of sadism.
On the bed he points to you, your fics seem to glow; and the sight of you freezing and gasping in shock is enough to make his day. But this is only the beginning. "... Quite the imagination and the proficiency in prose work, I have to admit" the boy whispers in his silky voice. No hurry, no pression. "And admirable the work of comparisons and praise. It makes me wander..."
You don't have the time to think, or see it coming: when Vil slips behind you and presses the point of the nails on your neck, tracing the soft skin of the entire column up and down and giving special cares to your pulse point, it's already too late. "You seem serious on your fantasies. But how much? Care to give me an example, dear Y/N? Your muse is here to help you, if you need to..."
A light push is enough to send you down on the bed, and his weight pressing you on the mattress takes you breathe away better than any possible speech; but to be fair, you are pretty calm in your mind - in paradise already.
"... No need to refresh your memory on your own words, right, my dear poet?"
Just in case, the squeeze Vil's long fingers give to your hips and breasts would be enough to spur you on efficiently, and so the kiss he presses on your trembling, already inspired lips, among the shadows of a secret night.
The first time you help him with his clothes, you've never seen Vil so nervous and worried. His wonderful face traits are contracted, his posture stiff, and under your fingers you can feel his heartbeat doing the fastest and roughest race of its life. Since today the boy is going to meet people he cannot disappoint for any reason in the world, you can understand the state he's in; for this, you came into his private dressing room to help him changing and appearing at his best, and your touch on his skin is more delicate than ever. "You'll doing great, Vil. No reason to think the opposite."
"I know I'll be perfect" Vil answers in a breath, "I hope this'll be enough for them."
You adjust his hair with some light movements, and do the same with the collar of his shirt. "You are going to be unforgettable: believe so, and it will happen. And remember I won't allow anything to ruin your moment, okay? You'll always be my polar star."
Vil doesn't reply, but nods slowly; he's not completely convinced, but your words somehow made a breach in him, as always, and he turns to face you. So, your exquisite scent, mixed with the parfum he gave you as a present and you always wear, fills his nostrils; and you can clearly see his pupils dilating and him taking a long breath.
Noticing what's happening, you lean towards him more, a sudden mischievous smile on your face. "You know... we are way early on the schedule. You are risking to sweat in these splendid garments, and to spoil the effect; you could take them off for a while..." Pause. "... And I could help you."
No other word needed: Vil pushes you against the nearest wall in no time and grabs you under the knees to lift and bring you at his face level, before burying the lips against your pulse point and leaving the first of many bites of the day, making you unable to do nothing else than moan and tremble, especially when he attacks your nipples through the fabric of the clothes.
Luckily for you, Vil has more than a scarf to borrow, after.
