My Life Is A Shitpost Generator

Maybe I’ll find some reasons to live and share em with ya. Maybe I’ll repost good fics I read too. Don’t do that enough on main

[swan2swan]

Where's that tweet about how American chants are "let's go [team name] and some other country (Irish?) fans are "I've made up a song about the other team's drinking problem to the tune of London Bridge Is Falling Down one two three"?

[luimnigh]

[ladydevoir]

[wifegideonnav]

“bits to use in everyday conversations”

[noknowshame]

resurrected dead wife watching her own montage: wow I looked so hot in that

[felixfeliccis]

Preach I guess

[felixfeliccis]

OH I HAVE MISUNDERSTOOD

[fatsexybitch]

[nick-nonya]

[prettypuppyguts]

I don’t desire price like that but I know the masses do & I must speak for the people

[dani-onearth]

Merciful & Misnamed

Kylo Ren x fem reader

Part One - [Part Two] - [Part Three] - [Part Four] - [Part Five] - [Part Six] - [Part Seven] Summary: You're his prisoner now, and he doesn't know how to look at you without becoming someone he swore he killed. You're still here and he thinks he saved you but the silence between you is thick with old affection and love. How do you mourn someone that's standing right there? Warnings: Pure angst! Strong language, shame induced eating behaviors Word Count: 5.12k Authors note: I haven't written fanfic in years but I just watched all of Star Wars again and Kylo Ren got me thinking... I tried making the reader sassy, hurt maybe. English isn't my first language and tenses get me really confused still (I gotta learn by now). Also, if I got any lore wrong please let me know! I'm not deep into the fandom but I'd love to learn.

It's funny what can entertain you after a while. Sitting alone in a dark and cold corner helped you find a pile of old dust; handy for doodling on the concrete floor before it gets blown away by a sneeze or stepped on by your dirty boots. You've been keeping count of the days as best you can, but the troopers took your wristcom when you were captured approximately twelve days ago. You wish you'd had some other way of timekeeping that didn’t warrant rubbing your fingernail on the wall until it marked. Now you have no choice but to bite at your bleeding nail when the dust gets boring. You count stormtroopers like sheep when they pass your cell door through the sliver of a window you’re lucky to have.

You wonder if your friends are still in the cells next to you. If they get the same joyless ration bars once a day. The same five minutes in the refresher–ten every third day when they give you a fresh prisoner's uniform and access to a brutally cold shower.

How generous.

Twelve days on this ship and you haven't spoken a word to anyone. Not a stormtrooper, a general, a captain, or the damned Kylo Ren. Thank the stars. The masked monster has quickly become a dark plague through the galaxy. All you see is the covered face of a coward. A traitor. The being that engulfed the man you used to know and turned him into a greedy and power hungry and a soulless shell of a person. You hoped you never had to see him again.

Too bad you can feel him.

Near, somewhere. A pull from all directions. It was agonizing knowing he was on this ship with you. Did he know you were here too?

The buzz from your cell door turned your head to see two stormtroopers at your door, holding restraints.

“Prisoner. Come with us.”

Three resistance members in front and two behind you walked alongside a stormtrooper. Heads hung low, trudging their feet along the metal floors, forced back into the dirty clothes you were captured in. The U-wing to Takodana was just supposed to be a supply run. Quick and easy—you were excited to go and barter for new boots. Instead, your ship was taken by the first order. They killed half your shipmates, and the other half were here with you; walking in a straight line down the empty corridors… until you halted, jerked back by the arm of your appointed guard. You stood on a platform in front of dozens of stormtroopers and generals.

“Against the wall.” One ordered, and you reluctantly had to agree. You weren't necessarily in a position to run. Not with a dozen blasters surrounding you in the hands of the enemy. You friends did the same.

The wall was cold and smooth. You look over at the pilot from your ship, standing next to you in defeat. “Malik.” You whispered as quietly as you could, but your voice was hoarse from how little you’ve used it recently. “What's going on?” You asked, but you knew what this was. The holocam pointed directly at the lineup of you rebels. You were going to be a message to the galaxy. Join or be killed.

Malik only opened his mouth before a march was heard down the hallway. Loud steps, commanding steps. The sea of troopers parted to reveal Captain Phasma and General Hux in his perfectly pressed garments and shiny new shoes. Wearing a smirk you wanted to peel off you a dull knife as you stood restrained, likely by his orders.

He laid his eyes on all of you, his lip turning up before he started. “Traitors to the order. Enemies against stability. Do you feel proud? Do you feel… accomplished?” He chuckled.

Disgusting.

“Your so-called resistance is dying. It’s scattered and desperate. Your rebel friends will call you martyrs. Heroes, even.”

“We’re not fighting to be remembered, Hux. We’re fighting so we don’t have to live under your flag.” The words tumbled out of your mouth before you had the chance to stop.

Hux fixes on you, stepping over to be in front of you, only inches away. “Then you’ll die under it.”

You charge forward only enough so he’d stumble back; a stormtrooper yanking you back against the wall just as quickly.

Hux cleared his throat, stepping away when he heard footsteps. Footsteps that rattled in your brain. They echoed and pulled at your chest. The familiar feeling turned your gaze away from Hux to see a dark helmet floating through the parting crowd of white ones until it stood in front of the wall of rebels. Kylo Ren, hands clasped behind his back, draped in heavy wool and woven fibers.

“These are all the rebels captured, General Hux?” The mechanical growl still sounded like Ben. The voice modulator did its best, but it was a voice you used to seek out; a voice you hadn’t heard in almost six years.

“Yes. Four were killed upon capture. Seven left.” Hux responds. “Today, the first order sends a message.”

The black helmet scanned the rebels and you know he sees you now. Kylo Ren has gone still. Your eyes are locked on the slit in his mask where his eyes would be. You won’t look away, you refuse to. Your anger for him is tired and heavier than rage. You’re sure he can see that. You’re sure he can feel it.

“These seven traitors–”

“–Six traitors.” Kylo cuts off Hux who glances sideways. “The fourth one. Remove her.”

“Sir?” Phasma turns, uncertain.

Hux turns his back to the lineup as a flicker of uncertain movement passes through the troops. Even your friends shifted beside you.

“Now.” He says, sharper.

You didn’t move until two troopers closed in on you and you jerked back, almost resisting them. Not because you wanted to die… but you didn’t want to be saved by him.

Hux grits his teeth at Kylo. “May I remind you, this operation was given by High Command. To revoke the sentence of one of these rebels would be–"

“This is not a discussion, General Hux.” Kylo swivels to face you, fighting against the guards, grunting as you use all of the fight inside of you. “Take her back to her cell.”

“No!” You scream. Your rebel friends begin to resist themselves before forcefully being brought to their knees. “Let me go!” Your screams mean nothing to the army of troops as the two dragged you away. You heard Hux call for the broadcast to start, the troopers got their blasters out, and Ren just watched as you were dragged away with your feet kicking before he just… walked away. Sounds travel through these halls. You learned that as you heard Hux giving his speech, and then six echoing shots.

You didn’t stop fighting, even after they threw you back on the familiar dusty floor. You pounded on the door, screaming, crying. You knew there was no point. Your head hurt. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t blink. The silence was louder than the executions themselves. The ones you fought beside, trained with, shared your rations with. Gone. Not in battle, but lined up like fucking cattle while you were dragged away like some untouchable exception.

It didn’t feel like mercy. It was theft. Like your life was paid for with theirs. You had no say in this trade off. This wasn’t compassion from Ben, it was possession from Kylo, a man you do not wish to know.

Days went by. You wouldn’t know how many since you stopped keeping track and the cell lights didn’t dim at night, but rations slid through like a cycle and three uneaten bars stacked up by the door.

You assumed he'd come by and say something to you. Maybe even just to shoot you himself. You wished he did but stopped wondering why you were alive. Stopped pretending it meant anything. Because he never came.

Until now.

The door hissed open. You sat clutching your knees and mindlessly pushing the dust from side to side. You knew who was there, blocking the light from the overheads like a dark storm cloud. You could feel that he was just there, at the door, looking at your back and hoping you’d face him.

But you wouldn't. They’d have to break your neck to make you say something first. The silence was only in your ears, but the force that connected you both rattled inside.

“It’s cold in here.”

You barked out a dry laugh and spoke into the corner you faced. “Three days. Three days and that's what you open with?”

Silence.

“Did you forget which cell you left me in or were you hoping I’d be grateful when you finally showed your face?” You turned your head to see him, masked as ever behind the doorway. He couldn't even be inside the room with you. “Or your fucking helmet, I guess.”

“This is who I am now.” He stepped through the threshold of the door and you stood up to look at him better.

“Is it? I don’t think it is. This is who you’re pretending to be, Ben.”

“Ben is dead.”

“You think hiding your face makes you more than what you were? Does it make what you did easier?” You ignored his last words. “You’re not powerful in that… thing. You’re just a coward that couldn’t face me without it.”

Of course he had nothing to say. He doesn’t even know why he did it. Ben is dead, is what he tells himself… what he tells anybody who dared ask about him. But looking at you, it’s not how Kylo Ren should look at a Rebel. It's not indifference or rage. It’s how Ben would look at you, before. The girl he would sneak out of his chambers with back at the Jedi temple; and he’d do it with a smile he tried his best to hide, even jogging to get to your secret spot quicker.

You felt the softness in him, but to hell with that. You felt nothing for this beast right now. You knew he knew that. You couldn't ever hide how you felt from him, it was impossible. You stood away from him, but made sure he had to look you in the eye now.

“You were spared.” He spoke

“I was kept.” It came out like venom. “Was that supposed to mean something?”

“It meant something to me.” He said it so softly.

You toed closer to him, unblinking. “Then say it without the mask.” And you waited. Stared. Hoped he would, against your better judgement. But he was rooted in his stance and the helmet stayed on. All you could give him was a scoff and a whisper. “That’s what I thought.”

You sank down on the hard metal slab you were supposed to sleep on.

“I saved you.” His pitch is now demanding. He came closer to you with harsher steps. “I saved you.” His pointed finger was a verdict, an accusation. His demeanor changed and now you were talking to Kylo Ren.

“No.” You said, sitting up. “Ben did. Kylo just wants to be thanked for it.”

He froze. Something in him twitched and for a second, you thought he'd lash out and the room would explode in a force-filled rage.

Instead, he straightened. Colder now. Mask heavier somehow. “Ben is dead.”

All this rage. All this pain and agony, and somehow all you wanted was to see behind the small plane where his eyes would be. His eyes. But you couldn’t. “Then so is whatever part of me cared.”

He stood in place for a breath, two breaths, then pivoted slowly to face the door. His cape dragged an arc across the cell floor, but didn’t storm off. Not yet. His helmet tilted down at the uneaten ration bars. A sneer crept into his voice. “You think starving in a cell makes you nobel? That it’s going to prove something? All it proves is that I should’ve left you with the rest of them.”

“Then why didn’t you?” You asked to the back of his head, slowly standing up. “If you wanted me dead, I would be. If you wanted me grateful, you would've never left me here to rot. So what is it? What do you want, Kylo?!” You said a name that meant nothing to you—like it was a joke—voice rising with every syllable. “To be… forgiven? Worshipped? You said you spared me and then walked away. Now you’re angry? Because I didn’t make your mercy feel… what? Worth it?” By the time you felt it, tears had already carved a path down your cheeks. You wondered when they started.

His gaze lingered on the untouched rations, piled up like an insult. Without a word, he lifted a hand and the bars rose, trembling in the air, wrappers crinkling under the invisible pressure before they just snapped with a hard crack.

You flinched.

He flung them as forcefully as he could against the wall, each one exploding into useless, powdered debris. Protein crumbs smeared across the durasteel wall; a tantrum pretending to be power.

He didn't say a thing, or look at you again. He just walked out, cloak flowing behind him into the harsh light of the hallway, rage trailing like smoke that was cut off by the slam of your cell door.

You pressed your lips together to keep in your shock. Not fear, because it was so… childish. All that power and he used it to throw a tantrum over prison food. It was just so small.

And he was the one who was supposed to spare you? No. He didn’t spare you. He just couldn't bring himself to kill you. And now because you weren't grateful, he’d rather see you starve than feel like he doesn't have control.

Coward.

You hate to admit that you ate the bits of protein crumbs off the floor, but you found yourself picking hairs off of little pieces. You stared at them for hours, like they just belonged to the floor now. You tried pressing tighter against the wall and closing your eyes, pretending the ache in your stomach wasn't real. But it was. It twisted and burned.

And it wasn’t just hunger, it was shame. Shame because you knew you were gonna do it.

You wish more than anything you had time to stand up. To straighten out from your hunched position, finger curled around a stale, dusty, sticky crumbling piece of ration bar from the corner.

You froze for a moment, then sat up, slow and deliberate, but didn’t stand—and didn't drop the food. Just turned and looked at him.

He stood in the doorway, half-lit by the corridor behind him. Helmet on, hands by his sides.

“What do you want now?” You asked, voice rough.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gazed down at the crumbs, the dust, the scattered remains of his pathetic destruction. Maybe his posture shifted but you couldn't tell.

“There’s a proper meal waiting.” He said at last.

Finally, you stood to your feet, wiping your hands against each other hoping to regain your dignity. “Here to feed the animals yourself now? Your little stunt got you demoted?”

“It’s in my quarters. You’re invited.”

“Oooh, invited, huh?” You sang, taunting his olive branch. “I don’t need another handout from you, Ren.”

“You clearly do. You have ten minutes to make yourself look presentable.”

You noticed his boot crunch under some of your ration as he walked out, leaving you to scoff at the closed door. “Sure, I’ll… make sure to brush the dirt off my knees.”

You looked down at yourself. Torn sleeves, stained pants, crumbs still caught in the corner of your mouth.You only got to wipe some of it off before two guards came through the door. Behind them a third figure–a young officer who didn’t speak, just held out a folded bundle of clothing.

“What’s this?” You asked, not taking the pressed linens right away.

“For the meal.” He said simply.

You laugh dryly. “Funny. Does it come with a fork to stab him with?”

That didn’t land. The officer didn't even hint at a smile.

“Kidding… I guess they don’t brainwash you all with a sense of humor.”

He twitches his lip. “You have ten minutes.”

They left swiftly, leaving you to look at the garments. Black, clean, simple. No rank, no insignia. It wasn’t meant to make you look beautiful. It was meant to make you look harmless or worse—like you belonged there.

You were brought through hallways and corridors, hands cuffed behind your back. You peek into any room you can, hoping that when you escape back to the rebellion one day you could give them at least some intel. That you weren't put through all of this for nothing. The robes were looser than expected, and you kept the sleeves rolled at the elbow, just in case you might still need to throw a punch or two. Rolling up the pant legs didn’t stay the way you hoped as you tripped constantly with the rough hand gripping your forearm.

You can only assume you’ve arrived when you’re standing in front of a set of tall, seamless doors. The guards stop, one reaching toward a panel. You barely have time to readjust your footing before the door slides open with a sharp hiss and you trip.

Your foot had caught the extra length of fabric on your ankle. You groan as you lay on your side, your own hands unable to help you up. From the ground, you see Kylo stand up sharply from his seat immediately as the trooper hauls you up by your elbow roughly. Kylos elbows shot back protectively.

You stagger again trying to right yourself. “Hey—watch it.” You hissed, yanking your arm back. “I can walk from here, thank you.”

Kylo stood near the far wall, half lit by vertical stripes of cool light that ran along the interior of the room. The table was set. Two chairs. Two plates. No guard or aids inside. Just him sitting alone at a really long table.

Just Kylo.

He started to walk toward you with deliberate steps and your breath caught in your throat as his posture shifted… the tension in his shoulders. Subtle, but sharp. A tell you recognized from another life.

“Uncuff her.” The dangerous grumble from his helmet had your breath caught in your throat.

“She–”

“Uncuff her, and leave.” Brutal.

They didn’t question it again; they just released your hands and walked out. You didn't say thank you, and he didn’t expect you to. You straightened out your robes, eyes flickering toward the set up. You could feel his eyes on you even if his helmet made it impossible to actually see them.

“So,” You started, glaring, “no other guests?”

“No.” He stated simply. “This isn’t a performance”

You scoff. “Could've fooled me.” You look around. The dim lighting, the impeccable symmetry of the forks and knives, the domed plates, everything just seemed perfect. “This all looks so… theatrical.” You stood behind your chair all the way across from him, but didn’t sit. “Is this supposed to be some sort of twisted date?” Your chair was so far from his, all the way on the other end.

He says nothing. Shocker.

“I mean, you wanted me all dressed up, right? To eat like nothing happened. Like I'm not still tasting dirt from my cell floor. Like the people I love didn't just get executed for being exactly where I was standing.”

He stares before lowering himself down into his seat. “Sit.”

You held his stare for a long moment before doing the same. “You’re used to people doing as you say.” You unfold your napkin. “I bet somewhere deep inside you miss when someone doesn't flinch.”

“You flinched earlier.”

You smile without any humor behind it. “So you were watching.”

Another pause. You didn’t know Ben to have such a stoic presence. Such little humor, wit, likability. Sure, he was always a little more rebellious and defiant than any of the other Jedi’s, but it was charming. Who is this man? What did he do to the man you loved?

Before long, you had something else to say. More questions. “So what’s all this really about? You drag me out of my cell, have six people executed, bring me here, feed me, clothe me. Why?”

He fiddled his finger together, posture confident and distant. “You ask a lot of questions.”

“Want me to be civil? Hm?” You lean forward, elbow on the table. “Fine. No problem, sir. I’ll be civil. Let’s talk. Lets act like, I dunno, just two people who used to know each other. Tell me, Kylo Ren, how does a Jedi turn into this.” You gesture to the full monstrosity of him. The mask. The robes. The looming silence and refusal to converse. “And in exchange, I’ll tell you how it feels to be the one left behind.”

“I was never going to be the Jedi they wanted.” He said finally. “Not like Luke Skywalker—”

“—No one was asking you to be Luke, you just needed to be yourself.”

“Myself?” He tutted behind the vocoder. “Explain that to me. My grandfather was Darth Vader.” He stood now, pacing menacingly behind his roughly discarded chair. “It’s inside of me. It always has been. I spent my whole life being warned, watched, judged. Like they were just waiting for the day to come. I didn’t fall like you think I did, I stopped pretending. That’s not weakness. That’s power.”

You stood too now, a lump in your throat swelling. “Power? That’s running. You ran from the only people who ever gave a damn about you.”

“I made a choice.”

“You threw away who you were.”

“Who I was was a lie.” He slammed his hand on the table, rattling and skewing the perfectly placed settings.

Maybe you saw him then. Not Ben, Kylo. It wasn’t just arrogance, but a man so desperate to matter in this galaxy that he was willing to destroy everything to prove he was worth something.

Your voice dropped. “Is that what this is about?” You wiped a stray tear, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “You needed to be someone so badly you’d burn down civilization to leave a fucking footprint?”

“I am someone.”

“What you are is a coward in a helmet.” You’re basically on the table at this point, arms splayed, torso leaned completely over your plate, knocking over your glass at some point.

The lights overhead flickered, the force rippled across the room, it was unmistakable—like a giant astroid just passed over you. Your throat went dry as you watched him steady himself slowly before he sat again. You stayed standing, breath quick and tempered.

“You’re angry.” He said.

“I’m furious.”

“At me.”

You cackled. “No, I'm just yelling at the wall.”

“Then say it.” You could hear his gritted teeth.

“Oh, you want the truth?”

“Always.”

“I missed you.” That cracked something in your voice; in your chest. “And I hated you for it. I used to lay in my bed and just dream that you would come back and tell me it was all a lie, or that—that you were a goddamn spy, that this,” you waved to the mask, “was some sick, twisted, disgusting dream. But now I’m here. And you’re real.”

His hands twitched on the table. “I gave you everything.” He said it lowly. “I warned you not to follow me or look for me—”

“—Warned me?! You abandoned me—”

He shot up. “—I spared you. Twice now!”

“And you want a medal for that? Because you didn’t slice my head off at the temple or gun me down on a broadcast?”

“You are alive because of me.”

“And thousands are dead because of you.”

Enraged, he lifted decorative rock across the room, it flew to a wall and broke into a million pieces with a yell, just a few feet away from where you were. Silence slammed down like a wave between the two of you, both breathing hard.

After a moment, he grumbled quietly. “You don’t understand. There’s more work than you know. The Jedi—”

“Your mother would be disgusted.” The words tumbled out of your mouth in disdain, you couldn’t stop yourself.

“Don’t.” He warned.

“And your father—”

“I said, don’t.” His voice rose, but it was the power behind it that made the air chill that sent goosebumps down your body.

You tumbled back, bits of rock crunching at your feet.

His helmet tilted sideways at you and he slowly made his way toward your side of the table. “You’re afraid of me.”

“I’m afraid of what’s left of you. I don’t even know who you are anymore. You’re not the boy who used to kiss me by the temple garden. You’re not the one who used to hold me like you’d lose me. You’re not the person I fell…”

You caught yourself, but it was too late.

He stepped forward, reaching you slowly and menacingly. He’s only inches away and you can smell him. That same mix of leather and pine. Of all the things he had cast away that scent remained.

“Finish it.” He said it, quieter this time. A command, but not a cold one.

You bite your cheek, throwing daggers into his helmet with your stare, but your heart thudded against your will. “No.”

“Say it.”

“I won’t.” You whispered. “Because he is dead. And I’m standing in front of the thing that killed him.”

He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He just let the silence settle like dust. His mask tilted downward just slightly, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you… or maybe as if he was. You even saw yourself reflected in his dark visor. Pale, tired, trembling.

Then, he reached down; no sharp movements or flourish. He just lifted the dome in front of you, revealing the warm steam of real food beneath it. He left the cloche by your plate and moved back to his seat, sitting with an invisible weight.

“Eat.” He said.

You didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because I told you to.” He burrowed in his seat, lifting the cloche in front of him.

You didn’t touch your food. Not yet. He brought his fork to his plate but didn’t do anything with it, just let the silence stretch.

Then you said it. “How are you going to eat with that helmet on?”

He paused. The question wasn’t… biting. Not really. If anything, it was soft, and tired, and a little sad. He looked at you—through you, rather.

Your voice was quiet. “I won’t eat if you don’t. Not if you can’t even show me your face.” He didn’t move, so you leaned forward. “I deserve to see who I’m talking to now.”

A pause. A breath. And then, his gloved hands moved slowly, reaching up to the edge of his helmet, unclasping the lock. The soft hiss of the seal tightened your throat and he hesitated, just for a second. His head bowed like a man offering something he shouldn’t be.

When it came off, that weight was shaking. His face… older, sharper, eyes darker than in your memories of Ben, but still absolutely his eyes. A scar now split his cheek, and his jaw tightened when he saw you staring at it. But, it was him. It was Ben. Hardened and haunted.

He placed the helmet on the table.

“Hi,” You barely whispered, but he looked away like the word had burned him. He hadn't looked at you for more than a few seconds without his protective shield.

“You smell the same as before. Did you know that?” He still won’t look. “It’s stupid, I know. It’s just that it’s the first thing I noticed when you got close. Like… the force wasn't what told me you were there… my senses did. I hated that.”

He swallowed, silence folding over itself once again.

“I thought… I thought I was doing what I had to.” His voice unfiltered. More human, rougher somehow. It really was him. “Back then, at the temple. I left because I thought no one really wanted me as I was.”

“I did.” You whispered, and he finally looked up. At you. No mask, no persona, just eyes that used to hold everything in the galaxy when he looked at you.

He sighed. “You were the only thing that made me feel like I belonged there… and that terrified me.”

You swallowed an ache in your chest. “Because if you lost me, then you had nothing left.”

“And I lost you anyway.”

You blinked back whatever was threatening to spill. You thought you were done crying over him. “You didn’t lose me. You never would have lost me. You just gave me away.”

Silence. He didn’t correct you. Instead, he looked down at his plate of food like it would save him. Then you heard him again.

“You used to talk in your sleep.” You blinked at his sentence, his voice low. “When our bunk rotations lined up, you’d hum sometimes. Or say half your assignments out loud, like your brain wouldn’t shut off. You’d mumble about lightsaber forms or supplies.” That memory was so far back it felt like a dream. As he continued, he somehow got softer. “But there was one night… you said my name.” He looked up, brows twisting upward. “Not just once, you said it three times. Like you were afraid I wasn’t there. And I remember I walked over to your bed and touched your hand so you’d stop. I held it in your sleep.”

You swallowed, not realizing you'd gone completely still.

“I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” He shook his head like he was ashamed of the confession. “It’s not like it matters now.”

“It matters to me.” He seemed startled at your gentle voice. “So, why say it now? After all these years?”

“Because I still hear it.”

You felt the crack in your chest and your shoulders slumped, eyes glazing over the food so you wouldn’t have to look at him.

“Ben,” your voice could have been mistaken for a sigh, “Ben was the one who loved me.”

“I never stopped.” He couldn’t take back those words, even if he didn’t mean to say them. They hung there between plates and a ruined past, among the people you were now. You looked up to glassy eyes, still holding yours. “Will you eat with me?” Spoken like he wasn’t worth it.

You hesitated, but silently reached for the fork. The first bite burned your throat on the way down, but you didn’t stop.

[Part Two] Note: I forgot how fun writing fanfics are. Thanks for reading! My Google search history is full of questions wondering what the hell a shower is called in this universe and what kind of ships they would have taken or what kind of planet would have supplies for the Rebels. I have so much to learn... how exciting!

[pupuhihihi]

YupRook sketches

[novayume]

HELLO I JUST OPENED JP IKEVIL TWITTER, WHAT'S HAPPENING THERE??

[inside-floyds-walls]

??????? Jade what the FUCK do you mean by that

[thereisasandwich]

AU where everything is the same but Riddle’s collars are those cones they put on pets at the vets.

[idiasplayertwo]

psssst..! hiya! i was wondering if you could do one where we just broke up with our partner (because they were just mean and rude) and when the housewardens get word that we're free now they IMMEDIATELY shoot their shots? i LOVE your work btw!! ♡

" MEANT TO BE " ― HOUSEWARDENS

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

IN WHICH ; they have had their eye on you for a while, noticing the way your ex treats you like trash―it makes his blood boil, but when he hears you both break up? he makes his move, in his own twisted way.

CONTENT ; sfw , fluff , angsty if you squint , confessions , you break up with your ex , they make their move , romantic , kissing , unedited writing , scenarios , implied female reader

FEATURING ; riddle (1.1K) , leona (1K) , azul (948) , kalim (728) , vil (614) , idia (1.1k) and malleus (1.1k)

─•──── 𖦤 : i'm not tryna be your part time lover, sign me up for that full time, i'm yours~―what's a mage gotta do?

AUTHOR'S NOTE ; hello hun !! this was such a creative idea, i loved writing this so much ! apologies for it coming out a bit later than hoped for, as you can see the scenarios are pretty...long ! ( this took me days to write because i left in my drafts for a bit and forgot a bit of my ideas (⁠ ⁠･ั⁠﹏⁠･ั⁠) ) i let myself get too carried away and tried to refrain from overwhelming the readers ! (⁠^⁠～⁠^⁠;⁠)⁠ゞ i hope you all enjoy (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

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RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS was aware of your relationship, biting his tongue when he sees you kiss the other man on the lips―he tells himself he can't, it would bend the rules of relationships. so he didn't get in the way.

but something's off. he sees the way the other boy pushes you away to focus on the game with his friends, when he barely reacts to the kiss he would die for.

how his face cringes after the kiss, your back turned he fakes a gag in front of his so called "friend group" you had also claimed to be friends with.

the way he brushes you away like your nothing but a whittled rose, disrespectful ! he's never seen such behaviour towards the one you are supposed to cherish and love.

still, he couldn't stand up for it―he knew in his heart be had to say something to you, but in your eyes that's just his love language. riddle sees the pain in your eyes when your boyfriend rubs the kiss away in his cheek, the way your smile fades when you walk away from him.

if that boy were in his dorm, he'd have his head in a matter of seconds―but unfortunately, he hadn't broken any queen of hearts rule, nor started a fight on campus―he was just being...rude.

in reality, it was none of his business―you were his friend, yah...friend. every time he sees your current boyfriend treat you with disrespect his jaw tightens, fighting back to "off this boy's head" every second he's near you.

he thought the irritation would fade away with time, but it didn't. he couldn't get you out of his head, wishing you a better relationship―silently wishing you chose him.

that's when ace blurts out during lunch, "did you not hear?" he shouts at deuce, who tilts his head at the ginger. riddle happened to be a few steps away hearing ace's voice. "they broke up! she broke up with him! just last night, man and right in front the whole class too? HA! hate to be that guy," taking a bite out of his sandwich, deuces' eyes widen.

ace laughs, riddle drops his empty trey by the trash and clears his throat; cheeks flushed at the sudden scene he caused. ace and deuce whip their heads in the housewardens direction, watching him apologize and dust his uniform off before stepping out of the cafeteria.

he didn't care about the eyes that lingered, pushing past other students he had a mission.

he must find you, now!

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he finds you in the courtyard one cold evening, an hour before the queen of hearts rule states for all students to be inside, preparing for bed―but he didn't bother about pestering you with rules right now, taking proud yet careful steps toward.

you're sitting on the bench, doodling in an old sketchbook―the one you had while with your as of now ex. you hear heels clack against the pavement, you tilt your head to find riddle rosehearts standing before you― moonlight hitting his back, perfect posture and his hand clamped behind his back.

you scrambled to grab your pens and sketchbook, closing it quickly before he could see what you were drawing―he raises a gentle hand up and asks you to stay seated before asking to sit with you.

you blink, your breathing slow and you laid back against the bench, allowing the boy to sit with you. and so he does, a respectful distance comfortable for both you and him.

the silence is loud, yet grounding. it's nice having riddle here, you told yourself. exhaling to yourself you rest your head against the wood and stare at the apple tree above the both of you.

getting his mind right, the words scripted in his head; riddle finally speaks up, voice gentle and kind. "how are you doing?"

okay, no―no, sevens no, don't ask her that! she's obviously not doing any better than a few hours ago! the housewarden immediately takes back his words in his head, stuttering over his breath, you just let out a soft laugh. "man, word travels fast huh?" you lean forward, resting your elbows on your knees the red-haired boy clears his throat.

he explains ace informed deuce, and he overheard their conversation because it was ace. ace was rarely quiet―especially when it's about a juicy topic among his friends. you scoffed out a dry laugh, course he did. to be fair, you had caused a scene infront of trein's classroom―not very private for a break up.

there's more silence, but riddle seemed to have scooted closer to you. his finger twitched beside yours, resting on the wood of the bench he spoke up again, "i... refrained from speaking before..." his voice was low, quiet―almost cracking. "I refuse to make that mistake again."

just as a housewarden, riddle gets straight to the point. how digilent of him. "It is... disrespectful...to speak about someone who is committed," his red eyes sparkle at the moonlight, finally getting the courage to face you. "i have admired your spirit, your kindness, your..." he pauses, "your very presence."

you blink, eyes widen at his words but he continues. "if you so wish, i ask to court you. properly." the tone of his voice...it's not causal, it's honest. bold and intentional. he was serious, riddle rosehearts, house warden of heartslabyul―wanted to be yours, be the one who makes you smile and be the reason for you to stay.

"you deserve respect, honesty―and the worth of feeling loved. let me be the one to give it to you," his fingers brush over yours, "you deserve someone who chooses your everyday!"

okay, a bit more than what he wanted to say...but he was in such a state of mind, he couldn't shit his mind up.

you chuckle out a laugh before bursting into soft laughter, catching him off guard. he stutters over his words once more; "i―i..fail to see the humor in this situation? if you refuse, i will gladly walk away now and you never have to―"

"oh shut up, rosehearts, i accept!"

he froze, swallowing back his words the both of you stare at each other for what seemed like an eternity, the world seemed to have stopped when his red eyes searched yours―it found no lies, no mockery―just pure truth and lust.

now he's the one laughing, a boyish chuckle leaves his lips as you lean closer to him, "you could have just told me you wanted to kiss me, yah?" you whispered in his ear, his giggles turned into a noise he didn't know he could make. cheeks redder then his hair, he panics and hides his face in his hands as your laughter echoes through the courtyard.

as he offered to escort you back to his dorm, the door shuts behind the both of you you pulled him into a kiss―resting your forehead against his and whispered how thankful you were for him, and how you can't wait to spend the rest of your life with him.

and riddle? was already a lifetime ahead of you.

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR has let himself fall for you like an absolute idiot. cupid's bow hit him straight in the heart, he hates it. falling for someone who is already committed, at least that's what you call it. he calls it bullshit

your dating the biggest jackass in the entire school and your just doing nothing about it. of course he's noticed, your so-called boyfriend wasn't making it subtle. wiping away your kisses, neglecting your needs to be with his friends and pretend you don't exist in public.

he's heard the way your the boy talked over you, the way you laugh his rudeness off and told others that's just how he is―well one conversation with leona's fist couldn't change that, but he doesn't do anything. he doesn't say anything―he just watches until yon finally snap.

he regrets not taking his chance sooner, it pains jon to watch the one he chose get treated like days old trash. everytime he gets a chance alone with your "boyfriend"―say it's a lab partner up, he becomes the most useless partner ever. he refuses to cooperate with the likes of someone who doesn't respect basic social cues―it a just worse because this guy claims to be your boyfriend.

he doesn't like this guy, and he will show it. he has no shame―but if you're around him and the other guy, he gets a tad bit nicer―offering to of your books, he ends up just dumping them all in your "boyfriends" arm and watches him fall to his feet. where a man like him belongs, on the floor at your feet.

okay, getting kinda personal here leona, time it down a smudge yah lmao? hey, he thinks the boy deserved a bit of humiliation. he seems to have no trouble doing it to do, what's a little payback?

a few days later, he's received the biggest news in his life―ruggie turns into the fastest hyena in all of twisted wonderland to find leona, getting into his bosses' face the biggest grin on his face.

"you'll never guess who just broke up with who!!"

it's only been a day or two, but so what? news travels fast.

that's all the information leona needs, hips lips curl into a smug smirk he asks ruggie to get to to visit the dorm past bedtime tonight, and to his surprise―you showed up.

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you step into his room, the moonlight pools onto the floor and his bed like it's designed to look like that. his sheets are messy, blankets half off the mattress―but no sign of leona. you scrunch your nose, calling his name out softly as you shut the door behind you.

that's when you felt it, a light breeze to your side. a shadow towers behind you when you turn on your heel, the housewarden kd savanaclaw standing over you with a look of confidence in his eyes. "took your time breaking up with the bastard, hm?"

you exhale, biting your cheek in your mouth he walks past you with a hum, "hey, i'm not judgin'" he states, walking around you his tail swishes past your leg, but you barely felt it―he just wanted to see if you'd react. smirking when he hears your shudder. "then why'd you invite me over?"

you arch a brow, watching him sit on the bed he pays the space next to you. you squint, unsure of what he motives were but you step toward him―fiddling with your sleeves you took the seat beside the beastmen. it was quiet for a moment, the wind outside was all that was heard. suddenly he asks how your holding up, which probably wasn't the best thing to ask but he wanted you to be truthful with him if he was about to do what he's about to do.

you shrug, staring at the carpet as you spoke, "lighter?* he blinks, as you exhale―"life seems more peaceful without his consent excuses and lies all the time," you admitted, you admit it all―letting out a heavy sigh when you finished.

leona studies you, not judgemental or bored, but with quiet, shimmering possession. he wishes he can take away all the pain that bastard gave you while being together―but he held back his desire to smack talk the other boy right now, instead he just locked eyes with yours.

"you look like you want to say something," you chuckled lightly that made leona's heart skip a beat. he took a moment before finally speaking, "i've wanted to say a lot of things, but it wasn't my place."

your smile fades, not with sadness or discomfort, but curiosity. his eyes lingers around your face before drifting down to your lips, his tail flicks behind hom slowly.

"what do you mean?" you ask softly, voice low and sweet that makes his chest tighten.

he pauses again before muttering under his breath, "ah―fuck it." it was only a matter of seconds before you realized what was happening, leona's hands find their way around your waist―holding you with a gentle and respectful touch and let his lips connect with yours.

it wasn't rushed messy, but gentle and steady ―like nothing else in the world mattered.

you don't pull away, you don't fight back―you melt into it. his touch, his lips, his warmth―all of him. his hand rests on your cheek with his other curling into your hair. he's not rough, he's passionate. everything he's ever thought about was happening right now, you in his arms without a thought of the other boy.

what felt like an eternity, he pulls away―the taste of his lips linger yours, your eyes flutter open to meet his. his forehead rests against yours, exhaling through his nose. "you have..no idea what you do to me, women,"

that earned him a chuckle out of you, your fingers interlock with his own, letting them rest in your lap. leona isn't the best with words, but with you he's willing to try. "id your done settling for scraps," he tucks your bangs behind your ears, his voice low in a whisper―"you deserve a whole lot better then that piece of crap."

he won't chase you, but fortunately for him he doesn't have too―you accept his confession with a happy, warm smile. he chuckled deeply into your skin, letting his nose nuzzle in the crook of your neck―you could get used to this. to the fact someone chose you, ans will never make you question your worth.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO loved inviting you to the mostro lounge, he just hated how you always seem to bring your boyfriend along―if you can even consider the guy a boyfriend.

he was rude, disrespectful and an utter buffon. He notices the way he's texting away on his phone when you try to talk to him, the way you kiss his lips he doesn't react, it when he pushes you away when you try to hold his hand.

how can you call yourself a committed person if you refuse to prove so? idiotic and selfish behavior. even floyd didn't like the guy, every time he comes to the lounge with you as a date he purposefully messes up his order while yours is in tip top shape.

if your boyfriend complains, floyd lets out his unhinged laughter, earning a flinch from the boy.

"man, how unlucky~" the eel sends the boy a toothy, shark-like smile with his golden eye sharpened. it's unprofessional, if you think about it―but as manager, anything goes.

azul's final breaking point?

seeing your "boyfriend" flirt with another woman during a festival he also so happens to be going to when he sees it. he understands it's not his place, like a signed contract it's between the business and the employee―but azul let his heart decide for him and fall in love with you even though you were committed.

he despised the fact that letting the other man treat you like that, until he reached a stage he didn't think would happen right away. a week or so later, jade informs his boss about your and no your exs' break up, azul is intrigued and determined. adjusting his glasses, he gets floyd and jade to fetch you―not immediately, but a two days later your escorted to the lounge he with the tweels behind you.

jade reassured all is okay, and azul just wanted to talk with you―but hearing "azul" and "just want to talk" in the same sentence sent shivers down your spine.

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here you are now, sitting across from azul in a single, comfortable lounge chair. his elbows rest on his desk with his fingers interlocked. he offers you a drink, on the house―which caused you to quirk a brow up. he simply states the lounges' estate will cover it. 

moments of small chatter goes by, he finally lets his mind speak for himself―business, work and money all out his mind when he clears his throat. "i've heard from jade you and that, boyfriend, of yours recently had a falling out. i send my condolences, truly." to the boy? not so much. 

is that why you gave me a free drink? 

he shrugs at your question with a slight curl of his lips, adjusting his glasses you noticed a single piece of paper on the side of his desk. "i refrained from speaking up about this before," he states smoothly, voice now tender then a few moments ago. "but i believe now is that best time for me to be honest with you, if you'll let me?" 

you watched him stand to his feet, boots clicking against the floor and waltz towards you―you slowly nod as you look up at him, not in fear, but in thought. when he stops in front of you he offers his hand, waiting for you to take it with a lump in his throat.

keep it together, azul. this isn't like any other confrontation―this is a lifetime choice he's about to ask you. one that a contract can never be broke. 

"my dear pearl, for months i have held back my tongue―burying my own emotions for you to be happy...but you and i both know you were not happy correct?" 

you nod, almost like you're in a trance but he was simply holding your hand closer to his chest, kneeling down to meet your eyes. "you deserve a partner who is attentive, a partner whose only reason for keeping you close is for his own enjoyment." he takes pause, attempting to unjumble his words to keep a straight face. 

"i will not make the mistake of letting you go again, i refuse to keep quiet any longer!" his voice is low with a hint of possession. when you look him in the eyes again, they're soft and warm―nothing like how they usually look when you make contact with him in the school halls or bussing around tables. he has that look in his eyes, that proves he isn't messing around with you. 

"allow me to be the one to grant you any wish, any desire―i want to be the one you can call, yours."  

moments of silence went by, your hands still locked together to his chest azul can feel the beads of sweat form on his forehead until you finally spoke. 

well, laughed. not the usual laugh where you and your friend snake a funny joke―but a childish, heart warming laugh. "azul! you sound like a shakespeare poem!" you burst into giggles, leaving the man before you blinking in confusion but relief? shake―who? he shakes out the thought and mirrors a wobbly smile back at you, unable if what to say. 

in the end, you accordingly accepted his confession with a soft kiss to his lips, cupping his cheeks you made your final decision. but it's not settled until there's written proof―it's azul ashengrotto after all―pulling you to his side he hands you a pen to sign the contract he has placed specifically for this moment―printing your name next to his, it's not sealed. 

you have your lifetime plan signed and tucked away in his safe, tied with a bright blue ribbon of love (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

KALIM AL-ASIM tries so hard to stop staring at you during your relationship with the other man. trying to distract himself with school work or going on walks with jamil―but nothing seems to work, it's super hard when the man you are currently with is so rude?!

of course he's respected your relationship, waving with a happy smile when you walk by and always hugging you when he hugs other's―but jamil's noticed.

hell, everyone noticed―but when it's not your place to say anything, you don't ! is what jamil will always tell him when he complains about how you're being treated poorly. how can he possibly go about his day knowing your being treated horribly.

he watches the way your body slowly has up trying, but you refuse to let it show―the way your boyfriend pushes you away when you kiss him, or when he practically spits in your face when telling at you. If it wasn't for jamil, kalim would have spoken up.

he knows this isn't right, this is wrong―you don't deserve any of the treatment being given to you right now! when he thinks all hope is lost, and he expects to wake up and mourn not speaking up about his feelings to you sooner, he hears the news you broke up with the other.

kalim's eyes widen, practically sparkling as he asks for your location―with a tiresome sigh, jamil tells him he saw you in the courtyard a few moments ago. reminding the younger boy to be gentle when seeing you, he doesn't want kalim to get too ahead of himself. again.

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you hear the shout of your name from across the courtyard, classes ended and the courtyard wasn't as packed but it wasn't empty. you raise your head from your lap, sitting on the bench you stare across to see a certain young housewarsen run toward you.

upon reaching you, he caught his breath when you help him sit down―a hand in his and on his shoulder, kalim recomposed himself and looked up at your with worried eyes, "i heard―you broke up with―what happened! are you okay!?" all these questions and so little desire to answer them, you rather think about anything than your ex. but kalim was such a sunshine on your rainy days, you can't be mad at him asking questions.

you'd never be mad with him.

you let out a soft laugh, reassuring him you are okay and how you broke up your ex―when you reached your breaking point you called him off and walked away, leaving him to suffer alone with his sad, broken heart.

kalim nods, happy to hear you choose what was best for you. there's a few moments of silence, you search in his eyes. you ask him if there's anything else he wanted to ask you, because he seems to be distracted. fiddling with his things, he lets out a sigh and a sad smile; "it's...silly." he admitted, but you assured him that if he seems a bit upset because of it, it's not silly.

he smiled up at you, finally letting his heart speak for himself―"i know, this is probably not the best time, but i―" be pauses, "if i could have said this before, i would have...but i really like you―more than i thought I could ! i didn't say anything before because it wasn't my place, but i hated seeing you get treated like that! "

you smile to yourself, kalim rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, "you don't have to like me back because you feel like you have to, i rather you let yourself be free, but just know..."

he instinctively takes your hand and beams a happy smile at you, "if you ever want someone who makes you feel like the best person in the world..." you run your thumb against his knuckles, "i...hope you know my arms are wide open, waiting for you!"

the both of you share a laugh, your body closer to his then moments ago―taking his word for it, a day later you show up to his dorm and let yourself fall into his arms. choosing him, and kalim held you tight. afraid if he lets go he's making the same mistake again.

jamil is glad kalim has you to run to, you always seemed to lift kalim's spirits even before your relationship.

VIL SCHOENHEIT wouldn't comment on your relationship with the other man...to your face. when he sees the way the man you are with treats you with disrespect you can believe has a few words.

epel and rook are the only two who hear them however, rook mostly due to the fact he's the eye for vil. the housewarden hated how your boyfriend acts, dresses and overall his personality.

he hates his voice, the tone he uses―but he hates the fact he only seems to treat you with such actions.

he couldn't even call himself a boyfriend, but a troll. with a two faced personality. he would never out right say anything, but if he ever happens to have a conversation with the other man; vil would crumble his confidence in a split second.

calling out his split ends, his messy uniform and ugly acne. telling him to take better care of himself if he was going to smack talk his own girlfriend. he had no shame on the boy, but when he sees you turn the corner he steps away.

unlike leona, he keeps his thoughts to himself when you're around―at your side if you get too overwhelmed. he won't put right tell you to break up with your partner―love is love. but love isn't treating the other like a dog.

he claims you are being foolish, letting yourself stay with that horrible lover when you have so much potential. he sickens him that you don't appreciate your own worth, letting yourself get dragged under the other man's foot.

when the word spreads across campus that you broke up with him after a talk with vil, rook was the first to inform his housewarden. the beaut smiles to himself, pride spread across his face. he was waiting for you to come around, finding you in the library after classes.

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you greet him with a soft smile, offering him a seat beside you but he claims to not take up much of your time. there's no sympathy in his tone when he says how much you've tolerated the past few months with that troll―only disappointment on your behalf.

a few moments of silence past, he suddenly praises you for understanding your worth and you deserve better. you nod reluctantly at his words, butterflies in your chest when he locks eyes with yours.

"i was waiting," he whispers low enough for you and him to hear, admitting his feelings with a calm voice. "for you to finally realize your own worth." okay, now the butterflies are soaring. the blonde takes a step forward and cups your chin with his thumb and index to tilt your head back gently.

"i will not compete for someone who does not choose themselves." his eyes soften as you sneak a glance up at him, heat rushing up from your neck. "but now that you have? at least, i hope you have?"

he understands how hard it is to let go of something you think is good for you, but it's harder to stay in it. the environment was slowly draining you, and he could see it. he was so proud you chose yourself and your own needs and health.

he takes a moment, takes a breath and smiles softly ― just did you.

"i would like to treat you the way you deserve, to love you openly. if you let me, of course~"

vil schoenheit doesn't settle for less, if you agree to date him you better expect your whole life to be flipped around in less than a week. spa days, special skin care products and endless admiration? he's always been proud to call you his second half.

IDIA SHROUD isn't the person to confront another classmate―but your partner has been tempting him far too much recently.

ever since you've started dating the idiot.

it started off small, almost like it was nothing―but it was everything to idia. your ex interrupting you mid-sentence, calling you out for being too loud when you're just laughing. calling you childish for your interests and hobbies.

you suggested an idea to your "boyfriend" during a lab and he just rolled his eyes, saying how idiotic you are for suggesting such an idea.

you would apologize for things that weren't even your fault, seeing the look in the other man's eyes forced you to feel small and little.

every time, something in idia's chest tightens and he can feel his feeling bubble in his chest. he'd at his usual area in the class, pretending his scrolling on his phone or tablet but actually tracking the whole conversation between you and the other.

is it odd? yes. but he'd rather die than confront either of you about it, that involves social interaction and possible eye contact he was not prepared for.

so instead he monitors, not in a creepy way where he's following you around campus but more of a silent observer collecting red flags like pokémon.

he hated it, he hated how someone made you feel like you were nothing but a npc when the biggest npc was that guy!

ortho confronts his brother about his concern for you; stating how his nerve systems rise the more you're brought up in conversation. ortho asks if it's about your relationship with the other boy, honestly reading his brother like a book. he knew the housewarden liked you, for a little while now, but was getting tired of him not finally admitting it.

idia's hair almost went up in flames at the sudden confrontation, the tips of his hair turning pink.

"it―it's not! it's none of my business!"

ortho tilts his head, "you seem to be upset?'

"m'not..."

"in distress?"

"no.."

there's a pause, the silence causing idia to shiver from awkwardness and sighs heavily into his sleeves. "...maybe i am," he admits, his finger tightens around his controller.

"they're treating her like background character, like they mean nothing special!"

he exhales, staring at the computer screen he spots ortho's sad expression from the reflection. his voice drops slightly, "but they are..."

days later, that's when it happens. you show up to class alone, your aura seems in higher spirits and you participate during lessons.

idia notices immediately but doesn't ask you, honestly he just feels glad you are in a better mood. that's when he started thinking; where was your boyfriend? did he drop out of this class?

before he could hack into the boys class schedule, ortho gives him the biggest news of his life.

idia hears something, down the hall...it's a...voice? calling out his name.

the housewarden stood from his gaming chair, took a step toward the door and before he could open it himself―

"BIG BROTHER―OMFPT―" the young blue haired boy bumps into his brother's chest as he entered his room, idia's body hesitates when he stares down at his brother. before he could stutter out questions, blinking in confusion―ortho tells him you broke up with your now, ex boyfriend!

idia freezes, lips parted as he tried to keep his composure. "...she what?" ortho repeats himself, saying you shouted if the other man for being incompetent and toxic towards you, claiming his behaviour to be harmful and his dismissive behavior.

there's a long silence, most of it is the boy letting his mind run wild. idia's bangs swallow his eyes as a wave of relief hits him. "so she finally saw through it...heh, what did i tell ya!"

suddenly, there's a sharp, knife bending feeling piercing through his chest, something dangerous. hope. ortho studies his brother for a moment before speaking up, "perhaps this is the time for you to express your feelings towards name-san!" his eyes were closed but his brows were raised like he was smiling.

"eek??" idia makes a scared, strangled noise like ortho just asked him to dance and sing in front of the entire school. "e-express? no, nono! that's like jumping straight into a boss fight with nothing! nothing but just a wooden weapon and a dream for a miracle!"

ortho huffs, glaring at the older boy. "but don't you like her? you always cared for name-san, way more than that other guy did! you're the one who said they deserve someone who makes them feel special, not just a background character! this is your chance, idia! are you seriously going to let this opportunity go to was―"

idia immediately cuts his younger brother off with a shriek of embarrassment, his hair and cheeks going pink as he begs for him to stop. when he promises to confess his feelings to you, ortho beams happily and leaves him too it―excited at the thought of possibly having another person to call his sibling!

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

idia doesn't text you right away, it feels weird for him. all of this is weird for him, he's never felt a stronger connection for a person like this before.

he drafts something, deletes it. drafts another message and deletes it again. he drafts another? wait a minute, this isn't right.

it takes him until midnight to finally text you, honestly hoping you are asleep but also awake at the same time. he's awkward, of course he is he has no idea what he is doing. this isn't some video game, this is real life ! UGH !

hey, i heard what happened. i want to say 'i told you so' but that's too cringe. more than the fact you let yourself be treated like that for so long...ರ⁠_⁠ರ

he taps his fingers against the edge of his phone, typing again as he lets his mind just run loose.

that...sounded rude. you don't have to reply, just wanted to let you know you did good and he is a piece of space trash...like objectively.

his heart skips a beat when he sees your bubble pop up, his breath hitched and his hands shake. he reads your response carefully, typing slowly this time.

he doesn't out right tell you he likes you, but he's made it painfully obvious.

you don't have to feel like you're forced to, but if you need someone who listens to every line of dialogue you have...i'll be here.

he's a nervous wreck, not replying or even opening your message until way early in the morning―heart beating out of his chest. the next few days have been awkward, being unable to ask you out you had to do it.

hope you're ready for late night gaming sessions and awkward kisses, but done worry. he's determined to treat you better than the other guy did...at least try to. he's new at this, but his willing to try with you. only for you.

MALLEUS DRACONIA claims he is not enraged, no definitely. that lightning strike across campus was just pure coincidence. malleus first became aware of your boyfriend's behavior during a festival.

the dragon heir was with the other members of diasomnia, lilia dragging silver around to look at the hand made souvenirs and knitted fabric―sebek stood at malleus' side like a knight in shining armour. he notices the way malleus' eyes were glued on someone. his eyes linger around until the find what he is staring at...you.

not specifically just you, but your boyfriend. he pushes you away when you show him a cute piece of jewelry you thought he'd look pretty in, smacking your hand away. how he speaks over you when you try to express your feelings.

you try adding to the conversation, he cuts you off.

malleus wasn't visually angry, but his brows were furrowed.

the air shifts, light bulbs shatter due to the wind pressure and the wind gets colder. lilia notices, eyeing the young prince with a concern and warned look. if it wasn't painfully obvious―malleus indeed enraged.

malleus continues to walk around the festival with sebek at his side, but his gaze wouldn't leave you. he spots the way you shrink, your shoulders sag and your smile tighten. the way you fiddled with your hands like you didn't know what to do with them, you didn't bother trying to talk anymore.

he said nothing.

you were bound to another. and malleus, with all of his power, didn't dare to dishonour that. but he always observed.

on his nightly walks around the ramshackle's dorm he spots you sitting at the metal fence. head in hands, shoulders shaking as if you were crying. something in the air shifts and you feel it, whipping your head up to see malleus stare down at you with glowing emerald eyes.

he would softly ask about you well being, to which you always respond with a simple "yes!" but the tears in the corner of your eyes and under eyes stated otherwise.

he knew you weren't being truthful, you lied straight to his face when he is genuinely concerned. malleus felt his chest tighten, but this was not his place. he was not mad at you, but he was displeased with the whole situation. he simply nods and leaves you be...for now.

when the breakup happens, he doesn't hear through school gossip. he can feel the air shift―your body glowing as if you've been freed by invisible chains keeping you down. he senses it, but doesn't ask. still, confirmation finds him before he can find it―from lilia, because who else would have such a amused smile on their face.

he simply states what has happened during lunch hours, circling around the younger dragon heir in the air like he was waiting for a reaction.

malleus blinks, "i see."

lilia hums, landing to his feet with a soft click of his heels and smiles. "you were smart to wait~" the housewarden doesn't deny, but just nods. the only thing on his mind for the rest of the day was you.

⊹₊˚‧︵‿₊୨ᰔ୧₊‿︵‧˚₊⊹

he finds you at midnight, the island calm and most of the students on campus fast asleep. you were playing with the rocks by the creek behind ramshackle. the air was warm, but a cold breeze causes you to turn your head to the side. in the shadows, painted under the moonlight was the dragon heir the school feared so kuch―but not you. maybe that's a reason he's so drawn to you. you don't run in fear, you give him a sad smile.

"your up late, child of man..." he states calmly, stepping closer to you as you shrug. mummering something along the lines of you couldn't sleep―which he knew was another lie.

when you looked up at him his eyes softened. your eyes were tired, but lighter somehow. "i have heard," He doesn't elaborate―just looks down at you with warmth in his usually cold gaze. you nod reluctantly, unsure of what to say at the moment.

for a moment, neither of you speak. the silence stretching for what seemed like an eternity. the wind sort gently around the both of you, the air returned to its warm state.

"i wish to have spoken about this before," he admits, "many times."

your gaze drifts up to him slowly, waiting for him to continue as you feel your stomach turn with nervousness and hope at the same time. his figure was closer than before, posture straight as he spoke.

"but your heart was pledged. and i refused to try and claim what was not mine first," you can hear in his voice there was no bitterness, just restraint. "the way he treated you...was unacceptable." the temperature in the air drops just a slight, "they diminished you. drained you."

you look away, flustered and feel like an utter fool. he was right, you tolerated far too much and he can see it. his hand lifts, slowly, hovering near your cheek giving you an opportunity to pull back.

you don't.

his fingers brush your skin as he studies you, his eyes linger with warmth and love. "you deserve a mate who is willing to stand beside you, strong and proud, willing to call you their own. someone who sees your worth... not weaponizing it."

your body melts into his touch, your cheek soft against his skin he drags his thumb down your cheek to your jawline before he withdrawals lightly.

"i have admired you longer than i'd like to admit, even before your heart choose another man." he admits, leaning close to see your eyes sparkle against the moonlight. "but your heart didn't chose them, did it?"

you hesitate, biting the inside of your cheek as you felt the butterflies start to form in your stomach. he kneels to your height, a hand hovering over yours before softly gripping it. "i have grown quite fond of you, child of man...and i will not rush you," he whispers, taking his fingers to push your hair behind your ear to see your face better.

to see the blush form on your cheeks. "but know this...if you would grant me the privilege i would cherish you as you were always meant to be cherished."

there's no lie.

no tease.

just the steady, grounding truth.

"i've waited..." he mummers, forehead leaning to rest against yours, "and i'll wait another thousand of it meant to be with you, to stand by my stand at the throne."

even if you assumed it was an exaggeration, malleus was serious. he would wait another lifetime if it meant you always wind back in his arms. in every life, you are his mate.

end notes ; wow. i rly got carried away UHM. didn't really do kalim and vil justice uhm i love you guys plz i just couldn't figure out what else to put MY EYES HURT──

𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐯𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝜗ৎ ― 2026

★ comments / reblogs are much appreciated!

[twst-card-collection]

𝗧𝗪𝗦𝗧 𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗗 𝗧𝗢𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧

Original pinned post • Card index *ᵀʰᶦˢ ᵖᵒˢᵗ ʷᶦˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵉᵈᶦᵗᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ᵗʰᵉ ᵗᵒᵘʳⁿᵃᵐᵉⁿᵗ ᵍᵒᵉˢ ᵒⁿ.

Malleus' card tournament has officially started. Let's see which card shall win this second edition. Match-ups have been randomised with the help of a tournament website. Some extra information:

⤷ Each poll will be up for 3 days, with the next one starting as soon as I can get it up.

⤷ This is not a tournament about which card has the best stats. Vote however you feel like, be it aesthetic, story, vibe, etc.

⤷ Reblogging and cheering for whichever card you prefer is more than welcome. The more people get to participate, the more fun it is.

⁣　　〔 ROUND 1 〕

〈 Tsumsitter 〉 VS 〈 Birthday Bloom 〉

⁣　　〔 𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 𝟮 〕

〈 Tsumsitter 〉 VS 〈 PE Uniform 〉

〈 Labwear 〉 VS 〈 Dorm Uniform 〉

〈 Ceremonial Robes 〉 VS 〈 Birthday Jacket 〉

〈 Nightmare Suit 〉 VS 〈 Platinum Jacket 〉

〈 Birthday Boy 〉 VS 〈 Research Raincoat 〉

〈 Apprentice Chef 〉 VS 〈 Masquerade 〉

〈 Silkadorned 〉 VS 〈 Seaside Suit 〉

〈 School Uniform 〉 VS 〈 Halloween 〉

⁣　　〔 𝗥𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗗 𝟯 〕

〈 Tsumsitter 〉 VS 〈 Dorm Uniform 〉

〈 Ceremonial Robes 〉 VS 〈 Nightmare Suit 〉

〈 Research Raincoat 〉 VS 〈 Masquerade 〉

〈 Seaside Suit 〉 VS 〈 Halloween 〉

[twstyturny]

an affection anthology ft. jade leech

a timeline of your relationship through the school year :P

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

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

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

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

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

dividers by @/uzmacchiato and @/cafekitsune!

You didn’t think you’d get this far.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Welcome to hell.

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, Ace!” Grim snickers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you add.

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

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

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

Your heart dips even further.

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

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

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

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

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

“Good morning, Prefect,” he greets.

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

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

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

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

“Are you ready to go?”

…which were not what you were expecting.

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

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

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

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

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

Why does this feel so right?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Have a good class, Prefect.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh huh.  See ya…”

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

Jade’s not dropping you cold turkey.

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

You’re so not ready for this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Out.”

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

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

Do not let him change your mind.

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

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

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

He tenses.  “…Should I be concerned?”

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

“I see.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Step 2, done.

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

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

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

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

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

You’re experiencing fucking Jade Leech kiss withdrawal.

You scream into your pillow.

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

The only issue: Jade isn’t here.

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

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

You text him

hey where are you

only to get left on read.  He knows.

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

He actually picks up.  To your utter surprise.

“Where are you?” you hiss.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?”

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

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

“Good.  I’ll be there in a second.”

“Are you here?”

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

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

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

“You’re wrong.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?”

“Dunno…”

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

You hum.

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

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

“Oya?  And what would that be?”

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

and points straight at the crown of your head.

What.  Is.  Wrong.  With.  You.

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

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

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

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

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

You’re dead.

You really died.

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

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

But your bed is so comfortable right now…

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

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

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

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

“No.  Let me sleep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You yawn.  “Sounds normal to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Got a delivery for ya~”

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

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

Which already has Jade on it.

You are on top of Jade.

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

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

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

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

But you don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm.”

“You’re crying,” he notes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You still have a question left unanswered, though.

“Jade?”

“Yes?”

“What’s with all the petals?”

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

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

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

You chuckle.  “You gonna keep picking?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently, you were wrong.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and cup your hand over it.

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

“Happy to hear it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The relationship,” Ace corrects.

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

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

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

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

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

The seven pairs share one more look.

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

“Alright…”

“Sure.”

“Fiiiine.”

“Of course!”

“If you insist.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Jade.”

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

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

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

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

“It’s perfect.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His.

Lips.

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

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

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

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

If you tasted him now…

…Nope x2.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Chapstick Challenge.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just enough to catch a whiff of the balm.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course you’d like to kiss him.

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

Jade’s resolve is wavering just a little.

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

Subtle.

“So it is.”

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

“I would.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“…mmm…again…fufufu…”

Cute.

Cute.

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

Stupid Ace jinxed you.

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

That’s what Ace said back in September!

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

It’s everything else’s fault.

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

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

Because he’s fine without you.

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

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

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

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

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

And things could always be worse!

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

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

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

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

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

and your birthday.  Congrats.

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

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

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

You shudder.

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

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

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

“My,” Jade giggles coyly behind his naked hand, “your gawking has me feeling incredibly flustered.”

Voiceless, you tug the dropped sleeves of his cape up and over the curve of his shoulders; they fall helplessly back down to their original position, ornate embroidery framing flawless skin.  Damn it.

The eel cocks his head, chin resting against loose fist.  “Is there something wrong with my appearance?” he coos, like he doesn’t already know.

You lean forward, muffling your exasperated groan in layers of (boyfriend) material.  Your heart has been aching lately, but the sweetness in Jade’s chuckle and the way he cradles your head against him soothes the sting. 

Through luck and madness, you somehow survive.  Three unit tests, an alchemy practical, Starsending ceremony rehearsals, the collection of hundreds of Wishing Stars, and you’re still alive.

Between your reputation (respected as the dependable Prefect and/or feared as Jade Leech’s partner) and threats incentives (brandishing Grim as a flamethrower and/or mentioning your boyfriend by name), the latter went smoother than you’d expected.

The process is simple: confront the target, demand they declare their wish, witness their Wishing Star light up with magic, collect it, and hang it up on the designated tree behind the school.

By Friday, all the stars have been collected and hung but Jade’s; a total happenstance—or so you thought.  He clearly had different plans.

When the eel opens his door to you the next morning, you're hit with a small but uncharacteristic bout of fear.

“…Jade.”

“Yes, my star?”

“Seven,” you flinch at the new, festive pet name, and his gleaming eyes crinkle into delighted crescent moons.  But nevermind the nickname, “Why are you wearing that?”

The ceremonial clothes.  Pretty shoulders out there for all (you) to see.

“To collect your Wishing Star, of course.”

“No,” you drawl incredulously, “I’m collecting your star.”

Silence from Jade; the cattish grin on his face speaks for itself: Plans change.

You squint back.  “Well, Floyd took my wish already.”

He hums, unconvinced.  “Your wish, or Grim’s wish?  I’m aware that the Headmage provided only one Wishing Star to share between you.”

“It’s worth more to him than to me.  I don't mind.”

“I do.”  He slips a jagged weight into your open palm, supporting your hand with his own.  “Make your wish.  We’ll light it with my magic.”

Void of magic, the magestone—Jade’s Wishing Star—is dark save for the hairline veins, smoky white, running through the mineral like rippling seafoam.  Each of the uneven edges presses a soothing kiss to the nerves in your fingers.

A dismissive chuckle breezes past your teeth.  Laying your heart bare for a casual tradition isn’t exactly an appealing idea.  A throwaway, then: “I wish you’d wear normal clothes.”

The dusky glasslike stone stays unlit.

Jade titters, “Come now, don't waste our wish.”

“What do you mean?  That’s what I want.”

He tips your chin to meet his eyes.  “It’d be a shame if we resorted to my unique magic to know your true wish.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I wouldn’t,” he concedes, returning his hand to cradle yours.  “I’ll be saving that for a more important question.”

You get a rush of tingles for some indiscernible reason.  “Ominous,” you laugh.

He sighs sweetly.  Such softness in his gaze, you’d think he was looking at a particularly freaky mushroom but no, he’s looking at you.

Oh.  It's the way he looks at you that gives you the tingles.  And also maybe the way he touches you.  And—

Great Seven, you've been dating this eel for almost a year now; shouldn't you be less lovesick by now?  Less distraught when you're apart?  Less smitten by his mere existence?

This whole tradition, these Wishing Stars are purely symbolic.  It won’t matter whether you wish to grow another 20 centimetres in height, or to do well in your finals, or for Jade to cover his damn shoulders.  A silly wish won't overwrite reality.

But something about him makes you want to wish wholeheartedly anyway.

What to wish for, though?

‘For your internship to be fruitful’?  Only a fraction of what you truly want.

‘To live the rest of my life in your arms’?  …Tone it down a notch, pal.

‘That Azul would stop giving you so many shifts at the Lounge’?  Okay, now you’re just griping.

You sigh, “I don’t know how to word it.”

“Is that so?” he hums with an impish grin, removing his hands.  “Or are you simply self-censoring?

“Would it help if I told you that I love you?  Or that I suffer in your absence?”

´(º—º)`

Kaput! goes your heart, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH goes your brain.

“Jade, what—”

“I suppose I’ll suggest something, then,” he interrupts.  “Do let me know if I’m on the wrong track.

“‘We wish for the next year to be kind to us, and for any time we spend apart to pass in the blink of an eye.’  Is that alright?”

With wide eyes, you nod.

“Wonderful.”  He places his hands back around yours and recites the wish; this time, the star sparks alight like striking a match.  You’ve watched this process over a hundred times now, but it feels different this time: more brilliant, more meaningful.

The glowing centre of the magestone shines gold like Jade’s left eye, and at the pointed edges, fades into a soothing teal the same soothing teal as Jade’s hair.  Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.

You open your mouth.  “Jade—”

“Shall we go hang this—”

“Shush for just a second, will you?!” you bark, shaking him like a broken vending machine by the lapels of his cape; obediently, his mouth snaps shut.  “We’re not just breezing by that!”

“…by what?” your eel feigns innocence.

Even as you glare at him—him with his knowing, expectant, self-satisfied little smile (stupid, stupid, stupid)—you can’t even manage to find him any less adorable.

“I hate you,” you lie, but the sweet kisses you press to his cheeks, his nose, his forehead each confess I love you, I love you, I love you.

 Just before meeting his, your lips bespeak your true reply: “I love you too.”

Crowley’s year-end homily feels shorter this time; maybe that’s because you now have the clarity to actually listen.  He probably reuses the same script every year, not that it's particularly remarkable: “What a pleasure it’s been to foster the academic progress of so many fledging mages!” and “This year has been fruitful for all of us!” and whatnot.

With the conclusion of the ceremony, you scoop Grim up and follow the flow with your clump of friends, yelling to each other about your summer plans as to be heard through the raucous crowd.

When you spot your boyfriend waiting for you in the courtyard and announce, “Bye, guys!  Have a good summer!” your friends are all sunny smiles and laughs.  Not a hint of stress to be found in your group, no concerns for your judgement, no suggestions or offers for alternative plans. Even Grim, who’s coming with you, has (close to) no complaints.

“Have a good summer,” they simply parrot, “invite us over sometime!”

One year ago, you confessed to Jade Leech.  You did it with logic at heart, but faulty logic in practice.

And yet as he peers back at you with adoration in his eyes, one hand jingling a pair of keys to a flat—to your flat in Ultramarine City—and the other hand outstretched for you to take, you can’t help but wonder why you ever doubted this contingency at all.

initial concept inspired by schoenpepper’s “Jade Leech and the Three Breakups” (deactivated; reblog to view the full fic) and cannedpickledpeaches’ “Sad Poems but I Choose to Interpret Them as Happy” :)  honourable mention to rel124c41’s many masterful fics (like this one, this one, and these ones) which simultaneously fed and fuelled my cravings for jade :’0  sorry for being so annoying but her works were genuinely the biggest reason i could finish this mess with any sanity remaining whatsoever

edit: oh my god i forgot to fix the part after the kiss where it's implied jade and floyd are still sleeping in the same bedroom. please pretend one of the following:

a) floyd felt like sleeping over and so jade let him stay

b) floyd barged into jade's room at 2 am and the latter slept through it

c) floyd hears him through the walls because jade is in fact yelling in his sleep, which you somehow find "cute" (this one's my favourite)

[sillyboyproductions]

WuShock pin-up for @tryna-get-by

His name is BoobShock

I do not think I know what a pin-up is but he was inspired by this fuckass plushie I got freshman year

[tryna-get-by]

Omg, incredible work!!! I’m honored to inspire Wu art!

‘pin-up’ was a popular art genre about the 1950’s. They were more often than not half-dressed ladies (though sometimes men) printed in magazines and such!! The idea was you could take the picture from the magazine and ‘pin it up’ like a poster to enjoy :) examples below!

[sillyboyproductions]

I made a drawing of my school mascot

His name is WuShock and he's a sentient shock of wheat

I drew him smoking a beer and drinking a cigarette

He looks sad but he really just needs to unwind

[onion-souls]

Mercury is the most charismatic substance in the universe. Like, there are a lot of things that historical scholars have been wrong about, but you usually understand why; flawed hypotheses, inadequate measuring tools, half-truths, secondary factors that muddy the results. But people across Eurasia saw that shit and just assumed it must be the key to immortality, despite a mercury tonic being literally the opposite of an immortality potion. And they kept trying it despite all obvious evidence. Taoists burned through emperors like lab rats. No other metal has this much rizz

[itsameaera]

Omg hiii, I've been looking forward to your request opening omg, is it fine if i request a timeskip au (oneshot) with Malleus x female reader and they already have a son(Who is still a baby) The day his son's birthday Mal gets called to a meeting so hes a little pissed off by that but reader insisted he goes but he also brings his son bc hes kinda clingy(is that a dragon thing) but when the meeting started the senates just ask if it was necessary to bring the heir over and don't even address his son properly. Sorry if it's too specific, it's my first time requesting in your blog😭

【❝The Prince’s Big Day❞】

【Synopsis: In which Malleus finds himself convening with the Briar Valley Senate with his heir in tow】

【Featuring: Malleus Draconia】

【Tags: timeskip (takes place some times after Malleus has graduated from NRC and ascended the throne), fem reader, King Malleus, established relationship (husband and wife), very cute and fluffy, a little bit of crack, father of the century Malleus, Briar Valley Senate slander (fuck those guys lol), baby Draconia shenanigans, possible typos, uhh that’s it, let me know if I missed any tags】

【Word count: 1k】

【a/n: hii anon! Tysm for the request — it wasn’t too detailed and gave me plenty to work with when writing! I took a lot inspo from a scene in House of the Dragon season 2 where the recently crowned King Aegon (second of his name) brings his young son to a council meeting and chaos ensues. Now that I think about it, the Draconia family is kinda similar to the Targaryens — minus all the intermarrying and stuff lol! Anyway, I had so much fun writing this and I hope you enjoy it too! :3】

⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆˙⟡⋆.˚ ⊹₊⟡⋆

Malaevar is restless.

Your poor little son has been throwing a fit from the moment he awoke in his crib. Try as you might, nothing would get your sweet boy to cease his seemingly endless cries. Well, except for your husband, that is.

You see, Maleavar is truly his father's son in every sense of the phrase. Despite being the one who birthed him into this world, your son has always preferred his father to you. It doesn't help that the young prince is practically a carbon copy of your husband. It's like your genetics didn't even try. Oh well, hopefully your next child will favor you instead.

"What causes you so much distress, my son? Today is the day of your birth, you should be happy, should you not? The whole realm smiles on your behalf, yet cry in spite of their jubilation. How strange." Malleus always had a habit of speaking to your son as though the now two-year-old boy could understand his every world. Maleavar doesn't seem to mind though. In fact, he quite likes that sound of his father's voice.

"I fear our boy won't be able to answer your questions, husband. He can't speak yet, remember?" 

"Ah, yes. What a shame that is. I'm sure he'll have such wonderful things to say once he's finally able to articulate himself. Won't you, sweet boy?"

Malaevar can only coo and gurgle in response, but that's enough for Malleus to consider it an affirmative answer. He looks at you with a glimmer in his eyes — the very same ones your dear son inherited from him — as if to say; 'See? He does understand me!'

Unfortunately, the moment is cut short by a knock on your chamber door. You figure it's one of the servants coming around to confirm the plans for today's celebration with you, but the news you're given couldn't be further from what you expected.

"You mean to tell me that these old, tottering fools would dare to come to me on the day of my son's birth and have me to convene with them? What business do they have with me that they deem important enough to tear me away from my family on today of all days?" Malleus' thinly veiled anger only seems to entertain Maleavar, who seems positively delighted by his father's wrath as he giggles and coos in his arms. The young Draconia finds joy in everything his father does — even his anger at those absolutely dreadful Senators.

"T-they did not say exactly, your grace. They only said that the matter is urgent and that your presence is required at council."

"Just go, Malleus. The sooner you deal with the Senate, the faster we can be rid of them." 

"You're right, of course, my love. Fine, I shall go through with this dreaded council if it means I shall be free to spend the rest of the day in the presence of those I actually love and respect."

Malleus moves to pass little Malaevar off to you, only for the boy to start wailing and crying at the mere notion of leaving the comfort of his father's arms. Your husband merely sighs and cradles the little prince closer, offering you a quick kiss before taking off to address the Senate with his beloved son in his arms. Well, you can only imagine how that meeting is going to turn out.

"Was it truly necessary to bring the boy to the council, your grace?"

"This boy is my heir and the future King of Briar Valley — you would do well to remember that, Senator. You will refer to Prince Malaevar with the respect his station demands, or you will not refer to him at all. Is that understood?"

"Yes, your grace."

"That's what I thought. Isn't that right, son?"

Of course, the boy babbles and claps his hands together as though saying 'Yes, father! Put those mean old fools in their place!' — well, at least that's how Malleus interprets it. 

The Senators might as well not even be present with the way Malleus chooses to just outright ignore them in favor of playing with Malaevar. The 'very urgent matter' they'd called him here to discuss is really just some trivial issue regarding taxes or something just as dull.

Malaevar is just as bored as poor Malleus is. In fact, the little prince was so bored out of his mind that he starts throwing whatever he could get his grubby hands on at the very senators that were giving both him and his father so much grief. Surprisingly, the boy has quite the arm on him, but his aim could use a bit of work.

Malleus, of course, makes no move to stop his son from terrorizing the Senate. To be honest, he'd quite like to throw a few things at them himself, but that wouldn't be very kingly of him, so he'll let Malaevar have all the fun instead. 

"Are you listening, your grace?"

"In truth, no. This is quite the elaborate waste of my time and I do not appreciate having my attention pulled away from my family on such an important day. I've heard enough. The matter can wait until my son's birth has been properly celebrated. Until then, this council is adjourned."

With that, Malleus simply gets up and leaves. 

"That was terribly dreadful, wasn't it, son? Oh, I do not envy the day you ascend the throne and find yourself stuck dealing with that insufferable lot. It's truly a fate it would not wish upon my worst enemy, let alone you, my dear boy."

Malaevar responds with his indecipherable babble, but to Malleus it sounds like; 'Those mean old fools have no respect! I'll show them not to mess with me when I become king!'

"Of course, son. You'll grow to be as fearsome as the thorn fairy herslelf — I have no doubt. Those imbiciles will regret getting on your bad side, but you must bide your time for now. Worry not, dear boy, I'll teach you to deal with that terrible lot when the time comes, but for now, let us return to your mother. I'm sure she'd love to hear all about the mischief you got up to today."

For now, the father and son's schemes to overthrow the Briar Valley Senate come to a halt. Celebrations are in order and Malleus isn't going to let those boring old Senators ruin his son's big day.