That was what malleus was thinking as he stood dead still in the rose garden of diasomnia, a beautiful spot on the opposite side of the dorm to the entrance. It was put there for comfort, and while it reminded malleus of his homeland, the last thing he was feeling was comfort.
Even in the starlit dark, the waning moon hanging in the sky like a raw reminder to his silent begging in the woods th night before, malleus found no peace in the night like he always did. No, he’d decided that until you arrived, his life would be constant and endless torment. Until he could pull this bleeding heart out of his chest and give it to you, until you either embraced it or squashed it underfoot in the dirt, he would not find comfort.
He was staring blankly at the entrance, and had been since he'd arrived. He was waiting for you to do the same, and had been for three hours now. Perhaps he should’ve specified an exact time to meet him…unless you’d forgotten-
“No no, perish the thought”, he muttered aloud, blinking out of his trance as he began to pace and the wind began to pick up, a slight drizzle beginning
“She would not forget me, surely”
He assured himself, not noticing the rain as it began to pour harder under his overthinking. surely you’d arrive any minute, and he’d take his chance with fate and finally tell you how desperately his heart aches for yours, how your smile could bring him to tears, how he’d make you the happiest human alive for the rest of your life if he was only given the chance…
“Patience…”
He finally answered himself, calming his breathing as he looked up to the sky and watched the rain settle to a stop. it was going to be a long night if he could soothe the sky but not his soul…
—
Meanwhile, on your way to diasomnia, you’d ran into several issues. Professor crewel asked you to stay back a bit and grade papers, Crowley had you run an errand, grim needed help with his homework, and by the time you finished your routine chores around ramshackle you already felt like you were running late. Although he hadn’t given a specific time…
Regardless, you were now running to the hall of mirrors, trying to push your thoughts aside. You were overthinking too, you see. after all before his sudden invitation, malleus hadn’t spoken to or visited you in two weeks. You were worried.
Did he know you’d been pining after him since you met? Since long before you knew who he was? You felt your breath hitch as the building came into view through the rain.
Was I too obvious? Did I come off as desperate? Oh stars, if I lose my friend because I couldn’t keep my heart in check-
BAM!!
You crashed into someone, because of course you did. You fell to the floor, he did not. He did chuckle though as he helped you up, crimson eyes full of cheer just like always
“My my, in a hurry, aren’t we? Khee hee”
You blinked down at Lilia as he fixed your tie and hair, looking at you like he could read your mind.
“I’m assuming you’re going to go see malleus?”
He asked, breaking you out of your thoughts. You blinked again and nodded, giving an awkward smile
“Uh yeah, he told me to meet him at diasomnia tonight…”
You murmured, watching him chuckle again. ‘What did he know?’ Was the only thing going through your mind…and as I said. He was looking at you like he could read that mind
“Ah, young love. Oh, i’m so glad he finally told you, he's been pacing every night for months!”
Lilia rambled on happily, watching your face go from a smile, to a wide eyed stare. He paused, looking just as surprised as you
“What’s wrong? Did he- oh”
Lilia suddenly looked like he’d just accidentally leaked a top secret government document, or at least that’s what it felt like as you both stared blankly at eachother
“He didn't tell you.”
He said, less like a question and more like a statement. “T-tell me what?!?” You whispered, eyes wide and face flushed with an odd mix of terror and hopefulness. Did malleus like you back? Was that why he wanted to see you? Regardless, Lilia was now chuckling, his calm demeanor barely hiding his nervousness
“Nothing!! you didn't hear a thing from me, darling!! Bye bye!”
“Wait!!”
Poof!
And he was gone with sparkling lights. You stared at where he’d just been standing for a long moment, blinking in the dark. It had stopped raining, though you weren’t sure when, your school uniform already drenched from the downpour.
Before you could really think about it you were running again, splashing through little puddles that had formed on the path as you burst into the hall of mirrors, hopping through the diasomnia mirror and into its enterance.
Now you definitely needed to see him. you just had to find him. he didn’t say where he would be or when though, how annoying could a prince be? All you could hope that you weren’t too late, because if you knew anything about malleus it was that he was at his most vulnerable when he was waiting for someone he cared about…
Sebek was guarding the entrance to the dorm for some reason, stopping you before you could step in
“Human! What business have you here? It’s nearly curfew!!”
He barked, and you tried to nudge passed him
“Malleus asked me to come! Please, I think it's important!”
He froze, huffing as his face flushed from either anger or embarrassment from stopping you
“Nonsense! My liege would not waste his time on the likes of you!! Be gone from here, prefect”
He stood at attention and nudged you right back, only adding to your frustration. But before you could do something rash like run past him or curse him out, silver shrugged awake from where he’d been standing guard next to the door as well, blinking sleepily as he caught sight of you.
“Oh. Hello, prefect. Sebek, why’s the prefect here? In fact…why am I here?”
“SILVER!! you’re finally awake, I see! I warned you about falling asleep while on guard!”
“Sebek, you dragged me out here, didn’t you? there’s no need to guard the dorm, this is school, not briar valley. Lilia has told you this isnt’t necessary”
Silver scolded rather softly, stepping aside and giving you an awkward smile while Sebek huffed in something even more akin to embarrassment than before. you almost wanted to laugh at his adorable determination, but that tugging feeling in your gut that had formed when Lilia said those few words was keeping quite the frown on your face
“You're master malleus’s friend, so you’re a welcome guest.”
Silver said, opening the door for you.
“Uhm…thanks…do you know where he is?”
They both blinked and then looked at eachother, eyes widening slightly. Now they both looked embarrassed
“…we do not.”
They said in unison, staring right back at you. You groaned internally, shaking your head as you gave them a wave and a sheepish smile
“I’m sure i’ll find him, he said to meet him here, i’m sure he wouldn’t leave…”
You trailed off as you walked into the dormitory because half of you believed that if you were late enough, he just might.
—
Malleus was losing his mind.
Like a dead poet or a sleep deprived artist, he was certain something was cracking inside him. His perception of time usually made it fly by so quickly…so why was waiting for you to show up so agonizingly slow!?
Perhaps he should go and find you, perhaps he should search the whole school grounds in flight and see where you’d been so he could equally chastise you for being so absent as he would pour out his very soul in an act of love.
He looked to the stars, sighing softly as he closed his eyes for a long moment. And, having no prayers or pleas left for the dead, he looked back to the entrance of the garden to see you standing there panting like you’d just run a mile.
“You’re here”
He murmured softly, like he couldn't quite believe it. He was tempted to step closer, but instead gestured you closer, unable to hide his small smile.
“I thought you’d never arrive. I've waited five hours”
He said almost petulantly- as if he wanted to be upset but couldn’t bring himself to do so now that you’d actually arrived- his eyes flickering over your face, your flushed cheeks, your awkward smile and wide eyes
“Five? Oh gosh, i’m sorry! I hit a lot of detours…and Lilia”
You muttered, and he blinked, looking down at him
“You…hit Lilia?”
“Yeah, I uh… I was running to the hall of mirrors and I crashed into him. He's okay though, I didn’t break his back or anything”
You added, watching him pause and then chuckle
“I assure you a human could cause him such an injury, child of man, no matter his old age.”
He said it almost teasingly, like he was halfway taunting you for worrying over such a thing in the first place, and halfway taunting Lilia for his boomer status. You laughed nervously, mind still repeating what Lilia had said. Before you could mention it though, he spoke first
“I have invited you here because I have something to tell you.”
He said, looking up at the stars. This was it. He was going to unlock that wild heart of his and put it in your hands, he was going to give it up to fate…
“What is it?”
You said breathlessly, stepping a little closer to him, expectant. He glanced down at you, and suddenly his treacherous heart was in his throat again.
“I…find your company to be a great comfort.”
He said, swallowing thickly as he looked away, shoulders tense
“You’re a dear friend to me, and while i’ve only known you for a very short while, i’m beginning to be certain that I will never forget our interactions…”
He trailed off, looking at you. The way your eyes widened made it look like they were made of starlight, shimmering with something he hoped was hope in the dark as you listened with bated breath. He could hear your heart racing. He wondered if that meant for humans what it did for him. He pushed the thought aside
“Suffice to say…I…”
He paused completely as he faced you fully, taking in a deep breath
“…appreciate having you in my school life. You are very dear to me”
You stared at him for a long moment and he stared back with an unreadable expression. You couldn’t help but be…disappointed. I mean, what he’d said was lovely, but you were beginning to believe that Lilia had tricked you-
“And I love you more than you will ever know”
There it was. in the softest, most tender way he could have said it, the words forced themselves out of his body before he could second guess them any longer.
You froze, slowly looking back up at his eyes, your face going pale and then bright red
“You do?”
You asked, voice shaky. His eyes widened like he was worried he’d said the wrong thing, but he stood his ground and nodded.
“I do. And i’ve found that there is no remedy for this ache but telling you personally…”
He turned away from you, looking at the stars and the moon like he was waiting for them to cheer him on before glancing back
“Does that upset you?”
He whispered, his next words abruptly cut by the feeling of your warm arms around his waist as you hugged him from behind, your face buried against the cape of his dorm uniform.
“No…of course it doesn’t. I love you too”
You murmured, eyes screwing shut as your shoulders relaxed, an you felt him relax too, one of his hands coming up to rest atop both of yours where they interlocked at his waist. You heard him huff in fondness as a smile curled onto his lips, his mind fighting his hearts will as he struggled not to turn around, scoop you up, and carry you away into the night like a damsel from an old tale.
“…I am glad.”
He murmured simply, but those three words held more weight now than they ever had before. Glad was an understatement for the relief flowing through his very veins. It was like breathing again after spending a bit too long submerged in water. His heart was no longer a heavy weight in his chest, it was like it had sprouted wings. He couldn't help but repeat himself as he turned around, cupping your cheek with the sweetest smile
“I am glad”
With that, he leaned down and kissed your cheek, his lips a soft and timid press against your skin as he held you closer. Those lips drifted up and upturned against your temple as you hugged him tighter back.
And somewhere in Diasomnia dormitory, an old man was asking an online friend how not to ruin his kids first date by accident like he nearly had their confession.
I’m obsessed with the last unicorn and you will all be obsessed with it too >:) also, thanks so much for the love for this fic, I’m glad yall liked it so much <333
I wasn’t going to do any tags but you two asked really nicely sooo @sweet-archangel @waywardstardustcollector <333
When choosing the class and race, I primarily thought about what the characters themselves would choose, so some of them look quite different from their real selves.
The outfits were chosen in the same way. Of course, I tried to incorporate references, and I hope I succeeded, but mostly it's how the first years see their characters.
When I was thinking about how Ace would play, I was torn between a bard and a rogue. I mean, the Vicious mockery is something in his DNA. But I think he's the kind of person whose character is built on pathos. A lone wolf. A dark-cloaked figure in the corner of the tavern. So a Roque it is. He would have chosen a tiefling for similar reasons—a dark backstory, hatred of humans. It's just a shame this image doesn't last longer than the moment he opens his mouth.
I didn't have this problem with Deuce - one look is enough to understand that he is the ideal paladin. He himself really likes this class because it allows him to play the hero in any situation, something he is often proud of. It might seem like he'll be a kind of babysitter for the group, but in reality, he's just as capable of getting into a fight as anyone. His shield more often ends up hitting someone in the teeth than serving its intended purpose.
I didn't even have any doubts; I knew right away that Epel would choose. The biggest, the strongest, the most powerful - of course he would be an Orc-Barbarian. I was thinking about changing his hairstyle, but i suppose he likes it in general, he just wants to be more muscular. Moreover, it gives him the opportunity to finally speak comfortably with an accent—he simply gave his character one. The most understandable language is the language of violence and fists.
I knew Grim would choose a mage as a class, but I had to think longer about the race. In my opinion he would have appreciated the Dwarves' love of shiny things and a good meal, it's literally his philosophy of life. When I think of him and mages, it's obvious to me that his character is exactly how he imagines them - bearded, old, in long robes and triangular hats. Besides, he plays the character with all his heart, which is really important. If he didn't also launch fireballs at everything movable and immovable, he would be perfect player.
Jack was difficult, I admit. The monks were a pretty obvious choice; I think he would have liked their philosophy and approach to combat. But his approach to acting was questionable. He's a pretty serious guy, so I think he's terrible at roleplaying. Absolutely terrible. He'd also often ask logical questions, which could ruin some scenes. But overall, I think he would enjoy the game, he just needs time to relax and get used to it.
Initially, I wanted to make Ortho Warforged—I mean, it was the obvious choice. But I think this game would be an opportunity for him to try himself in a new role, so I went the other way. Druid, gnome - maximum connection with nature. Besides, in my opinion, he would be the one who would help with the creation of figurines and miniatures. I mean, he's a huge box cutter in that regard. Oh, and of course his companion is Cerberus.
It's oblivious to me that Sebek wouldn't have even had a second thought once he found out that you can be a dragon in this game. I think he would have made a good paladin, but he refuses to follow anyone but his liege, so he is a knight. I mentioned it, but he takes the game too seriously - but he is a great advisor on many lore and atmosphere issues, so everything is fine. I just wish he'd be more toned down when it came to them.
Pierre (my Yuusona, who didn't appear in the post) would obviously be the GM. I mean, she's the one who gathered them all here. Even in everyday life she acts like some kind of voiceover, but this game turns it up to the max. But that's precisely why the game with her is so well-presented, even though she is completely neutral toward both NPCs and players. Only the consequences of their actions, no divine retribution. And also the rule of coolness.
Overall, I would say that they have a pretty good party in terms of balance, but they clearly lack mutual understanding.
I had a lot of fun doing this! I plan to make the rest of the students later.
When choosing a class and race, I first thought about what the character would be guided by, but, to be honest, some of them turned out to be biased towards how I see them.
This time I made the outfits more detailed, as I think that with age our level of detail in characters increases significantly, especially since most housewardens are well-read people, so they have quite a lot of examples to follow.
Riddle was probably one of the easiest classes to choose. True to form and strict, he's the perfect paladin. Moreover, I think this class is good for beginners (and the Queen of Hearts certainly didn't have time to play such games), as it provides a foundation for both combat and roleplaying. Besides, he's clearly read the entire Player's Handbook from cover to cover, probably even the Master's Handbook. And if a game has rules, they have to be followed, right? But he still needs to relax a little, and then everything will be just wonderful.
Leona… I'll be honest, he gave me a lot of trouble. Because it's obvious to me that the most suitable class for him is a rogue. But for him, the choice would be easier—if he somehow manages to get sucked into it at all—he's a Leo, so his race is the same, and he chose his class practically at random. It's not because he's lazy or anything, I just don't think he's interested in that kind of thing. As noted, he doesn't really immerse himself in the character, but overall, he tries not to disrupt others' roleplaying with stupid questions.
Azul, my favorite octopus. He probably knew about the game from other club members, but he wouldn't have shown any interest until this wonderful moment—he simply prefers tactical games. I have a feeling he'd appreciate the changelings' ability to assume different forms, as it reminds him a bit of his mer-form camouflage. Plus, it's a great opportunity for deception. As for the Warlock, I think it's obvious he'll find a way to outsmart this nonexistent chthonic entity. If he's really interested in the game, he might even create a real-life copy of his character's contract, but that's a matter of luck.
Oh, Kalim would be all for this new pastime. And the bard class would knock his socks off. Music has many positive effects in real life, but when you can resurrect the dead by playing the drums? That's incredibly fun. And not only are halflings a great fit for this class (not a very important note for Kalim himself), but they also have a wonderful ability to reroll dice, which is very useful for someone who often makes mistakes. Overall, I'd say Kalim is a GM's dream as a player - active, involved in roleplaying and story, and brings in goodies - I'd give my soul for someone like that, honestly.
I don't know what forces would have made Vil join the game, but he would have definitely become a star. First off, I have a slight headcanon that he's very familiar with the game itself. Not at Idia's level, of course, but he acts like a fairly experienced player. Perhaps this was part of one of his movie roles? As for his choice of race, elves are graceful embodiments of eternal beauty; of course, he'd choose them, there's no doubt about that. And I think wizards with a thirst for knowledge would be a good fit for him—after all, such power is the result of hard work and study. I would also add that his character is probably the most developed of all, with a deep backstory and excellent presentation, as if he really is from a fairy tale.
Idia is an absolute expert on all things D&D. He's completed several campaigns, has his own collection of homebrew, and has a shelf full of miniatures. And he's EXCITED to be a player. He's a little nervous about playing in person, but that's overshadowed by his eagerness to share hundreds of interesting facts. And of course, such a person would choose the Artificer class. So many possibilities, so many ways to create interesting new artifacts and abuse mechanics. He'd choose a tiefling because of the interesting lore and their connection to the underworld. He also just thinks they're cool.
Malleus is absolutely thrilled with the whole situation. Firstly, he's been invited. Secondly, he'll be able to participate in a new and exciting pastime. He wants to give it his all and not break any traditions, so to be able to play the character more realistically, he chose something familiar. He's also very interested in the history of this fictional world and the magic within it. People are very creative in that regard, aren't they? Although he'll likely be a little disappointed by the spell restrictions.
Honestly, I'd say this roundtable is pure chaos, both in terms of balance and player relationships, but overall, they'll gradually find common ground. I wouldn't say it'll become a permanent feature, but it might happen occasionally.
I'm glad I was able to finish before the session started, otherwise I would have drowned in preparation.
Vil doesn’t find you burnt out. He catches you. Red-handed. In 4K. Looking like a gremlin who crawled out of a homework pit.
You stumble into the Pomefiore lounge for your “study session” with him, and the second he looks up from his mirror, he freezes.
His entire expression drops. Not dramatically, no. Worse. Disappointedly.
“(Y/n).” (¬_¬") Just your name. Said like you’ve committed the gravest sin known to man.
You try to smile through your eye bags. Vil stares at you like he’s watching the corruption arc of his favorite character in real time.
He stands, approaches you, and takes your chin between his fingers with surgical precision. “You didn’t sleep.” (⩌_⩌)
Not a question. A verdict.
You try to defend yourself, and he immediately shuts it down with the deadliest, most judgmental eyebrow raise in Twisted Wonderland history.
“You pulled an all-nighter,” he continues, voice dropping into that stern, velvety tone that could probably make someone confess to crimes they didn’t commit.
He releases your chin only to guide you toward the nearest chair, palm at your back like he’s handling someone frail.
And maybe you are. You look like you haven’t seen sunlight in a decade.
Vil doesn’t sit. He looms. “You are overworking yourself. Again.” (•̀ -•́)
You start to apologize.
He holds up a hand. “No. I don’t want excuses. I want you healthy.”
He leaves for a moment—only to return with a glass of water, a neatly arranged plate of fruit, and an herbal tea that smells like pure sophistication.
He sets everything down in front of you with the elegance of someone placing offerings at an altar. “Drink. Eat. Then you’re going straight to bed."
You open your mouth to argue.
He gently places a finger on your lips. “I wasn’t asking, sweetling.”
Oh. Oh no. You’re too tired to even blush properly.
Vil watches you eat like a worried parent who’s also a disappointed supermodel.
When you start to nod off mid-sip, he sighs softly, almost fond.
He kneels beside your chair, brushing a stray hair from your face.
“You can’t shine if you run yourself into the ground,” he murmurs.
Then, “I’m not letting you do this alone. Next time, you’ll study with me from the start. Under my supervision.”
You’re half-asleep. He lifts you, actually lifts you, with surprising strength, carrying you bridal-style to your room.
He tucks you in with meticulous care, smoothing the blanket over your shoulders.
Before he leaves, he pauses in the doorway, silhouetted by soft light.
“…You matter, you know,” he says quietly. “More than any assignment.”
You barely hear him.
But he smiles when you drift off.
And for the rest of the day?
He checks on you every hour. Discreetly, of course. He is Vil Schoenheit, after all.
── ⋆⋅☆ ROOK HUNT
Rook notices your burnout before you even enter the hallway.
This man senses vibes like a predator senses movement.
One faint yawn from across the dorm and he’s already whispering,
“Mon trésor is suffering…” and materializing behind you like the world’s most elegant jumpscare.
You nearly scream. He beams.
“Ah! Pardonnez-moi, chéri(e). But your aura—it is… dim.” He says this with genuine heartbreak, like you told him your goldfish died.
You try to wave him off and say you’re “just tired.”
He gasps dramatically, hand to his chest like he’s been shot.
“Just tired?! Mais non! Mon ange, you look as though you have crossed deserts, climbed mountains, and dueled the gods—all with no rest!” (∩˃o˂∩)♡
He circles you like a concerned falcon assessing an injured baby rabbit.
You have no energy to stop him. The all-nighter has taken your soul.
He lifts a lock of your hair, inspecting the way it droops. “Your very strands cry out for mercy…”
You’re like, “Rook, please, I just need coffee before I collapse.”
He places both hands on your shoulders, eyes bright and alarmingly intense. “No. What you need is rest.” (⊙_◎)
Before you can react, he sweeps you into his arms in one smooth, terrifyingly graceful motion.
Princess-style. Of course.
He carries you through the Pomefiore halls while narrating your exhaustion like it’s wildlife documentary footage. “Observe: the weary student, bravely fighting the overwhelming tides of academia… ah, quelle tragédie…” (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ.ﾟ
Vil walks by, sees you being carried, sighs deeply, and mutters, “Don’t encourage him.”
Rook absolutely encourages himself.
He deposits you into the nearest plush chair and immediately starts fussing, adjusting pillows, brushing your hair back, tucking a blanket around you with a tenderness that should not be allowed to coexist with the unhinged sparkle in his eyes.
He kneels beside you, taking your hands and looking up at you like you’re the moon and the stars. “Mon cher, your dedication is admirable… but even the fiercest hunter must rest between battles.”
You mumble something incoherent. Your head thunks sideways. He catches it with both hands like it’s sacred.
“Shhh,” he whispers, smoothing your hair, “Let fatigue take you. I shall guard your slumber with my life." ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡
And he means it.
You wake up an hour later with: a steaming cup of herbal tea, a neatly arranged plate of snacks, a blanket perfectly cocooned around you, and Rook sitting nearby, watching over you with the serene smile of a man who’d absolutely duel sleep itself if it dared bother you again.
The moment you stir, he lights up. “Ah! Mon trésor! You return to the land of the living!”
You groan. He beams.
And then, softly, you hear: “Next time, call for me before you burn out so fiercely. I will always come to your aid.”
── ⋆⋅☆ EPEL FELMIER
Epel finds you in the hallway looking like someone wrung you out like an old dishrag and left you to dry.
Your hair’s a mess, your notes are crooked, and your soul has clearly left your body.
He stops dead in his tracks.
“…What in the pluckin’ hell happened to you?” (˘ŏ_ŏ)
You blink at him with the slow-motion sadness of a cow staring off into the horizon.
He stares back, horrified “You didn’t sleep.” Not a guess. A realization. A judgment.
You try to laugh it off, but your voice cracks like a broken apple crate.
Epel’s already dropping his bag, crossing his arms, and giving you the look.
The one that says: 'I’m about to act real country about this.'
“Why would ya do that to yourself?! You look like ya wrestled a tornado and lost!” (·•᷄ࡇ•᷅ )
You mumble something about deadlines.
He groans loudly, dragging a hand down his face. “That ain’t worth lookin’ like a ghost dragged ya through a field! C’mon.”
Before you can protest, he grabs your hand and starts pulling you, firmly, determinedly. Straight toward Pomefiore like he’s hauling a stubborn sheep.
You complain weakly. He ignores it with the confidence of someone raised on a farm and therefore immune to whining.
Once in his dorm room, he plops you onto his bed with zero hesitation. “You ain’t movin’ from here.”
You try to get back up.
He plants a hand on your forehead and shoves you back down gently but decisively.
Then Epel turns surprisingly soft.
He sits beside you, eyes flicking over your tired face with genuine worry.
“You gotta take care of yourself… I don’t like seein’ ya like this.” He mutters it, cheeks faintly pink, like he didn’t mean for the softness to slip out.
He grabs a blanket, wraps you up like a sleepy burrito, and tucks it under your chin with an embarrassing amount of care for someone who pretends to be tough 24/7. “Stay put. I’ll get ya somethin’.”
He comes back with a mug of warm tea he brewed himself.
You try to sit up.
He pushes your shoulder down again. “Nope. I’ll hold it.”
And he does, lifting the cup to your lips like you’re some fragile porcelain doll he’s sworn to protect from the cruel realities of academia.
Once you’re properly hydrated and horizontal, he sits on the floor beside the bed, elbows on the mattress, chin in his arms.
“Next time ya feel this overwhelmed, ya come get me, alright? I’ll help ya study. Or remind ya to sleep. Or-” He clears his throat, suddenly shy. “…I’ll just be here.” (｡•́︿•̀｡)
Your eyes droop. He watches you fall asleep, smiling a tiny, proud smile.
“…That’s better,” he whispers.
And he doesn’t leave. He stays right there, your small, stubborn country knight, guarding your rest like it’s the most important job he’s ever had.
── ⋆⋅☆ IGNIHYDE - BURNT OUT
── ⋆⋅☆ IDIA SHROUD
Idia notices something’s wrong the moment you open the door to Ignihyde.
Actually, no, he notices the moment Ortho scans your vitals like a tiny adorable drone of truth and says, “Big Brother! (Y/n) has severe sleep deprivation!”
Idia peeks around the corner like a terrified housecat and. Oh. Oh no.
Your exhausted face hits him like a crit attack.
Your eyes are dull, your posture is 'I gave up three hours ago,' and honestly? You look like an NPC after twelve hours of grinding.
Idia’s hair flickers from blue to frantic neon pink.
“H-holy glitch… you look like you just respawned with debuffs.” ¡|!(0∆0)!|¡
You try to laugh. It comes out like a dying modem.
Idia panics.
He rushes over, well, rushes for him, which is more like anxious speed-walking, and starts circling you in pure disaster-mode. “Did you- did you stay up? All night?! Doing schoolwork?! By yourself?! Are you crazy?! That’s like- that’s like running a raid solo on hard mode with no buffs!”
You mumble something about needing to finish an assignment.
Idia gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like a Victorian maiden whose fainting couch has betrayed her. “You burned out for SCHOOL? NPC schoolwork? For FREE?!”
Before you can reply, he grabs your wrist with surprising decisiveness. “Okay, that’s it. Emergency protocol.”
You blink.
Idia drags you, yes, DRAGS you, into his room, which is glowing with soft lights and multiple monitors, all of them switching to calming screensavers like he pre-programmed them for this exact scenario.
He sits you down on his bed and shoves a blanket onto your lap. “Don’t move. You’re one HP from collapsing IRL.” (ó﹏ò｡)
Ortho zips in, brings you a warm drink, then leaves with a cheerful “Good luck, Big Brother!”
Idia turns bright pink.
He takes a deep breath, kneels in front of you, and adjusts the blanket with shy, trembling hands. “You… you can’t do that to yourself. Not on my watch. I mean- not like I’m watching you all the time, that would be creepy! I just- I care, okay?!”
Your head droops sideways.
Idia catches it with a startled squeak. “H-hey! Careful! If you fall asleep sitting up you’ll get a neck debuff!” ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!
He gently guides your head to rest on a pillow, hovering above you like he’s defusing a bomb.
Then quietly, awkwardly, with shy determination, he sits beside you and starts brushing your hair back with his fingers.
Soft. Careful. Like he thinks you’ll shatter.
“You should’ve just told me,” he mutters. “I’m… good at schedules and stamina management. I could’ve kept you from frying your circuits.”
You hum sleepily.
Idia goes silent.
His hair softens to a warm, glowing pink. “Just… next time… come to me, okay? I’ll help you grind. Like a duo party. With proper rest timers.”
You’re already halfway asleep.
Idia pulls the blanket higher, cheeks glowing faintly.
“…Good,” he whispers. “You deserve a full rest cycle.”
And he stays there guarding you like a skittish, nerdy guardian spirit who would absolutely fight your assignments in a boss battle if he could.
Summary: In which your boyfriend finds you at a desk on the verge of tears once again.
Warnings: This drabble talks about death for like a paragraph in the beginning. Reader is implied to have some form of depression. Also, soft Riddle ahead. This post is not meant to romanticize depression or anything linked to it and was mainly written as a way of comfort for the person writing this and those who read it. Reader's gender isn't stated nor are pronouns referenced so you can see them as female, male, or gender-neutral. With all that said, read at your own discretion.
A/N: I almost decided to start my evening in tears today. I don't know why so don't ask ( I couldn't tell you honestly ). Life has been real...grey, to say the least and I've been more and more down in the dumps with every day that passes in a blur. I started writing this drabble in tears and ended without any of them spilling so I'll label this as another splurge of comfort in the form of words. Hope all who read enjoys :)
Extra: The shop hit 500 customers recently! Why not join in on the fun and celebrate with us? Follower or not, we'd be happy to have you as a guest! <3 On another note, we have loyalty cards available for those who like our creations enough that they'd like to be notified about them as soon as they come out!
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"Are you about to cry?" The question came off naturally accusatory, as if it were being directed at some criminal caught mid crime — such was unavoidable when the person asking said question was Riddle Rosehearts; self-proclaimed judge, jury, and executioner of lawful injustice and rule-breaking.
That didn't, however, mean that it didn't make you panic any less when you heard it. In fact, you nearly jumped out of your seat when his voice suddenly penetrated your ears.
"I—" Your breath stuttered, and your words quivered as much as your eyes — which darted back to the papers laid out like bad artwork before your eyes on the desk.
You didn't dare utter another syllable after that and pursed your lips in discontent. Discontent at what? Who could tell. You're never able to in times like this. The only thing that was certain was the sinking feeling drowning you at the moment, making you wish as though you were actually in the middle of some sea somewhere, drowning.
Actually, no, scratch that. Death by water filling your lungs and hopelessly writhing in panic and pain until you suffocate seems like a horrible way to go out...maybe death by sleeping instead? It's a little plain, but you haven't heard about any particularly painful experiences regarding leaving that way.
As if the grim reaper had offered you a dance, you waltzed around morbid topics with unnerving engrossment. You hadn't realized you had been so lost in thought. Not until a gloved hand found its way up to your face which brought your routine to an abrupt, startling end.
You snatched your head away as if fire had seared you and the action earned you the painful look of Riddle's slight downcast. Before you can say anything, apologize for example, he beats you to the punch.
"Sorry," He begins, and his voice is soft — too soft, like he was attempting to console the world of all it's troubles with his mere words, "Tears were starting to stream down your face so I thought to...."
He loses his train of thought — a rarity for someone such as himself — as his ocean greys find your colored irises. They seem duller. Barren of something he can't quite place. It's like beholding a rainforest that's suffered a decade of drought. The pop of color it once held is gone as is the life that inhabited it, leaving nothing but monochrome desolation that could never succeed in filling the shell of what it once was.
So he asks in a mutter, hesitant and a tinge of concern staining his voice, "...What were you thinking about just now?"
And your response is immediate. Your arm comes up to roughly rub your sleeve across your face and you throw out, "Schoolwork."
"Just schoolwork? Nothing else?" You don't have to lie to me, he decides not to add when the silence that followed his question stretches for a second too long. It was probably for the better anyways — certain sentences just come off poorly when they're spoken with his tongue, he realized that long before he met you.
"Yeah.." The reply couldn't come off more half-hearted, but neither of you acknowledge that fact. Unsure of how to unpackage what would come after such confrontation.
In spite of that, it's okay to look past and ignore some of the more concerning signs for now.
Riddle's hand meets your skin again, this time to lay atop your shoulder. Your expression casts the confusion you feel for a brief moment.
A little while more is all he asks for, just until he's able to figure you out. Only then can he open that door — that side of you that's been tainted by shadows — with full confidence.
"There are some leftover tarts from the unbirthday. They're best enjoyed with tea following it — and Rule 339 demands it be lemon with two sugar cubes — but it seems we're all out of it's stock here in Heartslabyul. I'd like it if you'd accompany me on my trip to the school store."
Your demeanor dampens as you spare a glance at your notes once more, "But...what about studying?"
"For once, it can wait. It seems that right now, fresh air is what's needed most."
He'll exile that look from your eyes one day. Same with those tears of misfortune and defeat. So please, allow him some time to observe, research and learn. Continue to fight whatever monsters you're facing in your head. Continue to be strong.
Your uncertainty hangs heavy in the air as you ponder your options. It has Riddle holding his breath from the anticipation of it all, but thankfully, not for long.
"If you say so then..sure, I'll go with you," and your hand comes up and falls atop of his which still warms the rounding edge of your shoulder. You even bless him with a small smile as you say, "Lead the way."
He promises to make it all worth it for you in the end.
Dividers were made by me, pictures used are from Pinterest, post formatting is inspired by @xxsabitoxx
── ⋆⋅☆ CONTEXT - Everyone is SO TIRED of you two dancing around your feelings for each other. What's the best course of action? Locking you two in a closet together, of course.
── ⋆⋅☆ AUTHORS NOTE - STRAP IN. I love pining, I can't help myself.
── ⋆⋅☆ RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
You’re minding your own business at Heartslabyul, maybe helping Trey decorate tarts or dodging Cater’s camera, when suddenly you’re grabbed by the wrist.
Before you can say “unbirthday,” you’re shoved straight into a closet.
And who’s already inside? Riddle. Looking absolutely scandalized. Like someone told him, the Queen outlawed tea.
He’s standing there all stiff and red-eared like, “W-Why are you here?!” ( ˶o˶˶o˶) !!
And then the door SLAMS. Locked.
From outside, you hear Cater going, “Good luck, you two! ♡” And someone else giggling like they’ve waited WEEKS for this.
Riddle’s face goes >:O
He crosses his arms, trying so hard to look composed. “This is preposterous. Completely unnecessary. Utterly—”
Then he glances at you and freezes.
Because oh no. It’s just you. Alone. In a very small space. Where he can’t escape his feelings.
He swallows hard and suddenly can’t look you in the eyes. He’s trying to talk about the rules, but his voice keeps stuttering like a Victorian maiden.
You take one step closer.
And his back hits the wall like you cast a spell on him.
He’s bright red now. Visibly panicking and also stubbornly refusing to move away.
“I— I’m not afraid, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he declares, which is absolutely the declaration of someone who is very much afraid.
There’s silence. Your faces are close. He wants to put his mouth on your mouth for sure.
He opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. He looks like he’s arguing with himself internally.
Then he blurts out, “I LIKE YOU, ALRIGHT?!”
Super loud. Super abrupt. Like someone dropped a truth bomb directly on him.
He immediately slaps a hand over his mouth like he didn’t mean to say that out loud.
You laugh. Just a little. He's cute.
And Riddle looks like he might pass out.
“Please don’t tease me,” he whispers, cheeks blazing, eyes fluttering away. “This is already humiliating enough…”
So you take his hand. Just gently.
He gasps. Actually gasps. SCANDALIZED.
But then, He squeezes your hand back.
When the door finally unlocks, Cater opens it with his camera in hand, ready to be chaotic.
And Riddle storms out, dragging you with him, declaring, “THAT’S QUITE ENOUGH OF THIS NONSENSE!”
── ⋆⋅☆ TREY CLOVER
You’re 'helping' Trey in the kitchen, which mostly means snacking on ingredients while he sighs fondly and pretends he doesn’t see you.
It’s calm, warm, very domestic.
Then Ace and Cater pull off the most chaotic alliance of their lives and shove both of you straight into a closet, slamming the door behind you.
You stumble, Trey catches you by the waist like it’s instinct, and suddenly you’re pressed together in a very small, very dark space.
He blinks down at you, startled. “Oh. Well… this is new.”
Outside, someone whispers loudly, “C’mon, just kiss already!”
Trey exhales like he’s questioning every life choice that led him here, but his ears and cheeks? Bright pink.
He adjusts his glasses even though he can’t even see in here, trying to look composed.
“Well. Looks like we’re stuck for a while.”
But then you look up at him and something in him shifts.
He tries to joke about the situation. You tease him back.
His laugh is quiet, warm… but he’s suddenly not meeting your eyes?
He’s thinking about it. He absolutely is.
You step a little closer. Just a breath. And he freezes.
“…You’re doing that on purpose,” he murmurs, half-flustered, half-amused.
Your hand brushes his.
He swallows.
And then he lets out this tiny, resigned sigh, like he knew this was going to happen eventually, he just hoped he’d be a little less obvious about how badly he wanted it.
“Alright,” he says softly, “you win.”
He lifts a hand to your cheek, gentle, careful, and leans in slow enough for you to pull away if you wanted.
But you don't want to pull away >:D
His lips meet yours in a warm, steady kiss.
It’s not rushed. It’s not messy.
It’s Trey. controlled, sincere, melting just a little the longer he kisses you.
When you both pull back, he’s smiling in that small, smirky way.
“…Guess that’s one way to pass seven minutes.”
The door yanks open. Cater is recording. Ace is screaming.
Trey steps out calmly, still holding your hand.
Later, he brings you extra tarts. A ridiculous amount.
And kisses you again in the kitchen when he thinks no one’s looking.
── ⋆⋅☆ CATER DIAMOND
You’re minding your business, truly, you're both scrolling through Magicam on the couch while Cater lounges beside you, stealing glances every time he thinks you’re not looking.
He’s going on about some new filter, some trend, something ridiculous Ace did… the usual Cater whirlwind.
And then, whoa, someone shoves the two of you into a supply closet?
The door slams. Locked.
Cater blinks, stunned for exactly one second before he laughs, “Okaaay, wow, not the vibe I expected today, but sure!”
He turns on his phone flashlight, illuminating the cramped space and you?
Very close.
“Uh oh,” he teases with a soft grin, “guess it’s just you and me, bestie~”
But that last word comes out a little too warm.
Outside, someone shouts, “Kiss already!!”
Cater gasps dramatically. “Wow, they’re bold, could never be me.”
He’s lying. He is bold, just not when it’s you.
He shifts in place, trying to look casual, but he’s fidgeting with his bracelets and chewing the inside of his cheek. His whole face is lit up pink because of you.
“So like… this is kinda funny, right?” he says with a laugh that wobbles just slightly.
You step closer. Barely a step. His breath catches.
“O-okay, um…wow. You’re really…” His eyes flick to your lips, then away. “Playing hardball today, huh?”
You tease him. >:) He crumbles instantly.
“Don’t do that to me,” he whispers, smiling helplessly.
Looks at you again, and the whole playful front slips for a moment.
“…Can I?” he murmurs.
You nod. hehe.
And Cater leans in, slow and careful, like he’s scared he’ll ruin the moment, until his lips meet yours in the sweetest little kiss. He presses in a little more, hands trembling just enough to give him away. Aww.
“Okay,” he whispers, “that was way better than any filter.”
The door swings open.
Cater grabs your hand and bolts.
── ⋆⋅☆ ACE TRAPPOLA
You’re hanging out in the lounge, playing a lil game, while Ace insists he’s totally beating you at whatever game you’re playing (he’s not).
He’s talking trash, leaning way too close, bragging about his “pro-gamer reflexes,” all that NONSENSE.
You roll your eyes.
Then, because someone EVERYONE finally gets sick of the two of you flirting like middle schoolers, they shove you both into a broom closet.
The door slams. Locks. Someone yells, “GET IT OVER WITH!”
Ace nearly eats the floor. Loser.
“HEY- WHAT THE-?! I wasn’t done winning!!” he protests, pounding on the door while you try not to laugh.
He stops. Realizes how close you are. Freezes.
“Oh.” Suddenly, real quiet.
He flips on the little light from his phone, illuminating the tiny space and you, inches away.
He clears his throat. “Sooo… this is kinda awkward, huh?” :)
Meaning: He has absolutely no idea what to do with his hands.
He keeps glancing at you, looking away, glancing again, looking away even faster.
“You’re like… really close,” he mutters. Stupidly.
You point out he’s the one leaning forward.
“That’s- I- NO I’M NOT-” Yes, he is.
He tries to cover his embarrassment with jokes. Fails miserably.
“Look, don’t get any ideas,” he says, poking your arm. “Just because we’re locked in here doesn’t mean I’m gonna-”
You step closer.
“H-Hey- wait- don’t-” He swallows. Hard.
And then he looks at you again, and suddenly he can’t hold the act together.
“…Can I?” he asks, voice way too soft for Ace Trappola, the menace.
You barely nod before he grabs your waist and smashes your mouths together, fast at first, like he’s scared he’ll chicken out, then slower, deeper, like he’s been waiting way longer than he’ll ever admit.
He pulls back, breathless, eyes wide.
“…That didn’t count as losing, right?”
You kiss him again, and he decides he doesn’t care.
── ⋆⋅☆ DEUCE SPADE
You and Deuce are sitting together after class, “studying.”
And by studying, you mean he’s trying very hard to look focused while absolutely staring at you every time you look down at your notes.
He’s like a puppy trying to act serious. Adorable. Terrible at it.
He’s rambling about wanting to be an honour student, how Ace is probably breaking school rules right now, and then- whoops- “You make me want to be better.”
Immediate wide-eyed panic. He did NOT mean to say that out loud. STOP LOOKING AT HIM LIKE THAT.
Before you can even say anything, Ace materializes like the little menace he is, grabs both of you by the collars, and shoves you into a supply closet.
The door SLAMS. LOCKS. AH.
Someone yells, “KISS OR WE’RE NOT LETTING YOU OUT!”
Deuce loses all motor function.
“H-Hey!! You can’t just- WHAT DID WE DO?!”
He’s banging on the door like a very polite, very panicked police officer. No one responds.
He slowly turns around and sees you. And realizes how small the space is.
His soul transcends the mortal plane.
“Oh- uh- hello-” His voice cracks like a prepubescent choir boy.
He whips out his phone flashlight because he 'needs to assess the environment.'
No. He just can’t see and his brain is short-circuiting.
The soft light hits your face and he literally MALFUNCTIONS.
“O-Oh. Wow. You’re… um. You look… nice. Not that you don’t normally- I just- I didn’t- I mean-”
He’s buffering. Please wait.
You tease him about being nervous. Tragic mistake.
“I’M NOT NERVOUS!!” he insists, voice three octaves too high. “I’m just- it’s close quarters- and you’re- and I- and-”
You take one step closer. He visibly stops breathing.
“WAIT- HOLD ON- I- YOU- DON’T-”
You take his hand. He dies. Comes back. Dies again.
He stares at your joined hands like they’re the key to world peace.
Then he looks up at you with those wide eyes.
“…Can I?” he whispers. ( •̯́ ^ •̯̀)
You nod.
Deuce leans in carefully, like he’s defusing a bomb, and kisses you.
It’s soft, a tiny bit shaky, and so stupid it almost hurts. He squeezes your hand tighter.
When he pulls back, his face is basically a tomato.
“I- um- I really liked that,” he says, voice tiny.
You kiss him again. His brain shuts DOWN.
The door bursts open.
Deuce turns redder (impossible) and shouts, “STOP LOOKING!! THIS IS- THIS IS PRIVATE BUSINESS!!”
He has no idea what that means, but he’s trying his best.
Greetings, fellow writer of the internet, I was curious to know if it is alright to request the Housewardens and Jamil from Twisted Wonderland x gn Reader, where the Housewardens and Jamil are trying their absolute best to hide their growing feelings for the reader, but their affection keeps slipping through in the small gestures they do for the reader, such gestures like lingering touches, remembering tiny details, or soft smiles they didn’t mean to show, etc.? I just absolutely love this concept; It makes my stomach flutter with joy!!!
── ⋆⋅☆ TWST HOUSEWARDENS - WAYS YOU CAN TELL THEY LIKE YOU
── ⋆⋅☆ AUTHORS NOTE Twin, where have I been? I have been renovating my room and working full-time. Sorry for my absence, though no one probably noticed lol, I am back now. And also ☝️🤓 I feel like this is some of my best work, not to pat myself on the back. I researched writing tips and stuff cause I wanna cook for y’all.
── ⋆⋅☆ RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS
Riddle absolutely thinks he’s being subtle about his feelings. Spoiler: he is not.
At first, it’s tiny things. Like, microscopic.
He’ll stand a little closer to you than he does to anyone else. Not close enough to break a rule, of course, but close enough that Cater raises an eyebrow every time.
Whenever you talk to him, he answers a little too quickly. Like he was already listening for your voice before you even said his name.
He absolutely tries to keep his tone even and proper, but every now and then, he slips and sounds… soft?
Not “Riddle Rosehearts, Perfect Prefect of Heartslabyul” soft, but “boy with a crush who has no idea what to do about it” soft :/
Sometimes he’ll do this thing where he gives you a compliment but phrases it like it’s just an objective observation.
“Your handwriting is—adequate.”
Translation: he’s trying not to say “you look cute” and failing miserably.
But the real kicker is the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention.
Soft, warm, totally enamoured — like he’s letting himself feel everything he refuses to say out loud.
The second you look his way, though?
He straightens up, clears his throat again (this boy is singlehandedly hydrating himself by clearing his throat), and pretends he was absolutely not admiring you from five feet away.
We let him pretend.
He’s cute. He’s trying.
And one day, he’s absolutely going to crack and spill everything in one breath.
── ⋆⋅☆ LEONA KINGSCHOLAR
Leona thinks he’s being smooth about hiding his feelings.
He is, in fact, being about as subtle as a brick.
At first, it’s the little things he swears no one will notice.
Like how he suddenly “just happens” to nap in the exact places you like to hang out.
Pure coincidence, of course. Definitely not planning. Leona would never.
He’ll be lying there with his arm over his eyes, pretending he didn’t track your schedule down to the minute.
You show up?
“Oh. Didn’t see you there.”
Leona, you absolutely did. He heard you coming from across campus.
And if anyone calls him out? Instant denial.
“What, you think I care? Don’t be stupid.”
Meanwhile he is actively glaring at anyone who stands within two feet of you.
But the biggest giveaway? His tail.
That thing has zero poker face.
When you sit beside him, it’ll flick once like he’s annoyed… but then curl around your ankle like it has a mind of its own.
He’ll pretend he’s asleep so he doesn’t have to explain it.
── ⋆⋅☆ AZUL ASHENGROTTO
Azul swears he’s keeping his feelings under control.
And, honestly? He tries.
But the man is about as subtle as a contract with fine print in size 6 font.
At first, it shows in how he suddenly pays a little too much attention to you.
Like, you mention something once, and he has it memorized like it’s part of a business deal.
Your favourite drink? Always stocked.
Your schedule? He somehow knows it better than you
He acts perfectly composed, of course.
Or… tries to.
Because every time you compliment him, he does that weird “pushes his glasses up and looks away” thing like he’s buffering.
He starts offering you “special discounts” at the Lounge.
Which would be normal… except you’re the only one getting them.
“Oh, it’s just a promotional offer.” :D
Azul, babe, no promotion on earth is ‘for (Y/N) only.’
We let him pretend.
He’s cute when he thinks he’s being smooth.
── ⋆⋅☆ KALIM AL ASIM
Kalim doesn’t hide his affection so much as he thinks he is.
There’s a difference.
A very adorable difference.
At first, it’s the way he lights up whenever you walk into a room.
Not a normal smile. No, no.
A full sunshine-level beam like someone just told him every day is his birthday now.
He tries to act casual, but Kalim’s version of “casual” is… loud.
He’ll excitedly wave you over from across the hall, nearly knocking Jamil over in the process.
“Oh! Come sit with me!” :D
Totally subtle.
He remembers everything you like and immediately turns it into a celebration.
You mentioned once that you enjoy a certain snack? Boom. He orders a whole platter for the dorm.
Said you like a certain color?
Congratulations, he’s wearing it the next day.
“Oh wow, what a coincidence!” :D
Kalim, please.
If someone else tries to monopolize your attention? He doesn’t get jealous, exactly.
He just appears at your side out of thin air with a smile that says, 'I’m here now! Pay attention to me instead!'
He’s like an affectionate teleporting golden retriever.
── ⋆⋅☆ JAMIL VIPER
Jamil actually tries to hide his affection.
Not like Leona “pretend I don’t care” hiding or Kalim’s “I forgot I’m supposed to hide it” hiding.
No. Jamil hides it like it’s a state secret punishable by death.
At first, it shows in how he pays attention to you just a little too closely.
He’ll act like he just happened to notice you skipped lunch…
Right before he slides a plate your way without making eye contact.
“It’s extra. If you don’t want it, throw it out.”
Jamil, this meal has your love language all over it.
But the real giveaways? His reactions.
You make him laugh, genuinely laugh, and he immediately looks away like it was a crime.
Jamil acts like smiling at you too much is going to get him arrested.
If someone else gets too close to you?
Jamil doesn’t get jealous. he gets competitive. Silent, deadly, competitive.
Suddenly, he’s next to you, subtly out-performing whoever dared to take your attention with a smile that is absolutely not a smile.
── ⋆⋅☆ VIL SHOENHEIT
Vil insists he is in complete control of his emotions.
Naturally.
He is elegance. He is poise. He is composure... and he is also so painfully obvious about liking you that even Epel noticed.
EPEL.
At first, it’s the hyper-specific attention.
He’s always correcting your posture, brushing lint off your shoulder, fixing your collar, just small touches he claims are “for presentation.”
Sure, Vil. Totally not an excuse to be close to them at all.
He watches you like a hawk in the most caring way possible.
You skip breakfast? He knows.
You look tired? Suddenly, there’s a vitamin drink in your hands with “drink this” written all over his face.
“You need to take better care of yourself,” he says, sounding only 40% exasperated and 60% concerned.
He pretends it’s all for your health and image, but he is absolutely worrying about you like it’s his full-time job.
He also softens around you without meaning to.
His voice dips, his lectures shorten, and sometimes, just sometimes, he lets out genuine, unfiltered laughs.
Little ones, but still.
Vil Schoenheit letting himself relax in your presence is basically a love confession.
── ⋆⋅☆ IDIA SHROUD
Idia thinks he’s hiding his crush flawlessly. He truly believes he is the stealthiest man alive.
In reality?
Ortho knows.
The ghosts in Ignihyde know.
The vending machines probably know.
At first, it’s tiny things.
Like how he suddenly appears online the exact second you do.
“Oh wow, what a coincidence,” he says, while literally sweating.
Idia, please. He has push notifications on for your login. We know.
He starts sending you memes. Normal. Fine.
Except they’re ALWAYS perfectly tailored to your humour, and he sends them instantly, like he’s been waiting with the link copied to clipboard for hours.
Whenever you come to Ignihyde, his hair flames go from “soft blue” to “neon panic mode” in record time.
He’ll spin in his chair like, “Oh—uh—didn’t hear you come in!” (｡﹏｡")
Sir, you jumped like someone fired a cannon.
He tries to act cool by being “detached.”
You ask him a question, and he’s like, “Yeah, whatever, I guess…”
while literally typing a paragraph of internal screaming in his mental chatbox.
Stop, he's so cute.
── ⋆⋅☆ MALLEUS DRACONIA
Malleus truly believes he is being subtle.
He’s ancient, powerful, dignified.
Surely he can hide a simple crush... He cannot.
Everyone in Diasomnia figured it out before he did.
At first, it’s the way he just appears wherever you are. Completely by “coincidence.”
You go for an evening walk? Boom. There he is, emerging from the mist.
“Ah, Child of Man. Fancy meeting you here.” :)
Malleus, please.
He asks you questions. SO many questions.
Things no normal person would think to ask.
“What brings you joy?” “What colours do you like least?” “Have you dreamed recently?”
He’s collecting lore about you like you’re an ancient artifact he discovered.
He brings you gifts constantly, but pretends they are nothing.
A rare flower that blooms once every century. A hand-carved charm infused with protective magic. A little gem from his hoard.
“I happened upon this and thought you might appreciate it.” Sir. This is a priceless ancient relic.
He lights up when you say his name. Literally. His magic flickers, the air shifts, his smile grows just a bit too fast.
It’s like he’s been waiting centuries just to hear you acknowledge him.
He’s too precious and too hopelessly in love to call out.
Prompt: "It's a Zing not a Fling" :: The moment they realize you're the one.
Masterlist: LinkedUP
Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw | Octavinelle | Scarabia (Here) | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia
A/N: Very long. Kalim's is from your pov. while Jamil's is from his pov.
Warning: Vomiting/Poison in Kalim's part.
"These will serve as your documentation and identity cards while within the Scalding Sands. Over here I have laid out the next six-weeks' worth of preparations in full. You will follow the same protocol as all Al Asim children for practicum and self-preservation. Basic self-defense and escapist tactics will require you to stay within the Viper pavilion. We used to incorporate them within the baseline measures, but decided to separate them as many of the Asim children are too young to undergo the physical and mental strain."
Mr. Viper wasn't the man Kalim described at all, but he did match the words of his son. He was a tall man with russet skin and chin-length ebony hair that curved around a sharp jaw. His charcoal eyes burned into you with stiff appraisal. It was a look you'd recognized from his son when he was thinking three-pathways at once while keenly observing his surroundings or threats. In this case, Mr. Viper's attention was solely on yourself. His scrutiny looked for any shred of doubt or apprehension.
Thank goodness you were well prepared. Kalim spoke of a kind man who was unabashedly loyal to his family. Jamil, on the other hand, warned you of a calculating guard whom had little tolerance for failure.
You picked up the first stack of documents and fingered through them carefully, "Is this every day, or does it change by the week? Six-am is breakfast, followed by emergency response drills, political debate, then lunch, free hour, scalding sands etiquette, dinner, then toxicology?"
Your voice dared to waiver at the final topic, but you steeled it for the sake of pride. The rest of the schedule remained blank despite ending early at six-pm.
"You will follow that regimen for the first three weeks. The fourth will include two free days. One of which will be when you are relocated to the Viper pavilion and the following will be a meeting with Sir Asim to relay your progress. The remainder will follow this," he seamlessly slides the second stack before you, "until complete. Do share any questions now, should you have any."
You stilled your voice before reaching for the second stack. It followed a similar schedule, but the less-strenuous courses had been replaced with combat training. Toxicology was moved in place of the free hour, and the entire evening was carved in for 'recovery'.
You let the wary thoughts pass before they could show.
"What do you mean by meeting with Sir Asim? Are you referring to Kalim's father?"
Mr. Viper shook his head, the gold beads coiled in his hair jingled. The first sound in the otherwise still office since you walked in.
"That is in reference to Kalim. You will not be in contact during the due-course of these preparations," he seemed almost pitiable. Perhaps the first genuine expression he's offered.
Your stomach knotted in twists, "W-what? I can't see him at all?"
"No. I'm afraid not," he stoned up.
"Why?"
There was a pause. Perhaps he'd seen through your cracks and decided that you were in fact not worthy to do this. Not ready. Jamil spoke warnings of this. If he was the Russel Viper, than his father would be the King Cobra.
Mr.Viper coughed into his fist and stayed his glare. As if reminding himself that you were not the typical bodyguard for hire.
"It is imperative that this framework goes without disruption. Kalim is an empathetic soul as the next head of the Asims. It is in his best interest that these matters be sorted privately. Otherwise his 'excitable' nature may impact your progress."
"What about Jamil?" you hesitated to ask.
Mr. Viper frowned. Although it wasn't as unkind as you'd expected, "My son tends to Sir Asim's needs, but will be the point of contact if Kalim needs reassurance."
In other words, the Vipers do not want the due process to be stunted by Kalim's involvement. This would be painful. Degrading. If all the Asim children undergo such measures, then surely he's endured it himself.
You are his partner. His beloved. They expect him to show resistance the moment you so much as bloom a bruise, and they would have to relent under his authority. Keeping him near would impede their ability to work, and risk upsetting the next head.
"I understand," you were alone in this, "where do I sign?"
Mr. Viper seemed almost impressed with your lack of arguments. That was as much you could ascertain from the slight twitch of his upper lip before he passed the final stack of documents across his work desk. This one was much thinner and came with a pen. Signatures for consent and a copy of travel arrangements written out for you to keep.
"Thank you, sir" you muttered.
"Pass those onto Jamil," Mr. Viper gestures to the travel documents. You fold them neatly and put them into your travel bag, "Please enjoy the next week exploring the main grounds and spending time with Kalim."
A pause. You waited for his dismissal, sweat pooling in your palms as the bag felt too heavy. Were your jaw tensed any more, surely teeth would crack.
Mr.Viper's attention pulls towards the office door, but you're too wary to turn your back on him. The mutterings outside resembled a one-sided argument. One voice scolding in a hushed panic, and the other not getting a word in aside from one bursting protest. You knew who was which instantly.
You watched as the elder man's brows pinched with worry lines etched from many years, "It was nice to meet you, " he sighed. Seemingly genuine but exasperated all the same.
"Take care to relax for now. You will need it. The Viper household is throughout in all tasks given, even one such as this."
He flicked his wrist, a silent motion for you to leave. The voices outside stilled.
You stood from the guest chair and it skid lightly against the tiled floors. You left Mr. Viper with a gentle thanks and polite bow, before going to join those who waited just outside the door.
When it opened, Kali greeted you with wide eyes and a dazzling smile. Jamil allowed himself to take a breath, surely amazed that your eyes weren't red nor was your soul in pieces.
You passed him the documents without a word before Kalim pulled you into his arms with an eager kiss to your cheek. Idle chatter filled the hall as Kalim pulled you along and Jamil double-checked all the forms.
No one acknowledged the lingering tension. Not when there was a week of peace before you'd be whisked away to undergo what you'd choose to call an 'act of devotion'.
"Ya Albi," Kalim sighed wistfully. His cheeks pudged over his knuckles as his face sunk deeper and deeper into his hands. He sat with his elbows holding most of the weight, perched over a low-wicker table as he watched you read with heart-struck eyes.
You spared him one look while reaching for a sip of pomegranate juice, and he melted.
"You are the most beautiful person in all the world, have I ever told you that?" he sighed again, smiling dopily.
You snickered behind your book's binding, "Yes, Kalim. Every day without fail. My ego can't get any bigger."
He beamed, "It should get bigger! You look positively radiant! I just knew that hairpin would look amazing on you! It catches the sunlight here perfectly and now you sparkle even more than usual!"
Every day with Kalim felt like being a princess surrounded by the finest of wines and sweetest of words. Your heart sung and by now you'd read the same sentence three times over. Relaxing the morning away seemed far off with this new adrenaline.
He continued on, flopping across the table to rest his chin right on the wood. His eyes sparkled like shimmering garnets.
"I can't believe that I get to look at you every day. It's the best gift I've ever gotten! Oh...I wish you didn't have to leave so soon..."
Your fingers tightened, crinkling the pages under strain. In just two nights you'd begin 'training' - as Jamil called it. Which was just proper preparations to be with one of the Asim without a bodyguard constantly on your hip. Especially the next head.
"You know I have to, Kalim," you muttered. Focusing on those pouting lips trained a different kind of resistance.
He sighed deeply, "I do, but does it have to be now? We only have one year left together as students! Every vacation counts!"
"That's exactly why it has to be now, Kalim. There isn't another long stretch of free time," you flipped the page, hoping he'd stop tugging at your heart strings. One plucked oddly, he was pouting as if you were leaving him to go play miniature golf. Not endure something necessary for your relationship to last.
He rolled so his cheek met the table and those sweet eyes faced the garden view, rather than you.
"I just don't get why the Headmaster needs you to help with organizing the library! Isn't that what the professors are for? I know you help so that your dorm can stay running...but I can pay for it! Really! Or you and Grim can come stay with me in Scarabia!"
You fumbled with the book. It fell with a soft thud, your page lost.
He continued, "And six weeks? I know that Night Raven has a HUGE library...but if I sent some help, it would just take a few days! Yet Jamil told me offering would be an insult. How is it insulting? I just want to help. The thought of you sifting through all those books while I'm here having fun feels so wrong...."
Your mind screamed to shut up. That the misunderstanding wasn't one at all. To just pick up the book, go about your day at his side, kiss him goodnight with those sweet honeyed words and then sneak out to talk with Jamil separately.
Too bad you never did well ignoring impulses, "Kalim, what are you talking about? I'm not cleaning the library. That's the ghosts job."
Kalim whipped onto his right cheek, the other marked red from pressing into the table. A confused frown pulled at his lips as he peered up at you.
"No?" he asked.
You mimed, "Yes?"
"That's not what Jamil said. You're going to pick up Grim from the Clock Town, and then you're going back to Night Raven to help the Headmaster for next year," he must have been told that excuse one-hundred times over to recite it with such clarity.
"I'm not allowed to come with you, because I have a full schedule here with my siblings. I can't send help because it's insulting to the ghost staff! I can't pay for your dorm because you won't let me!"
You scoffed, "No. No - and yes, because Crowley will take advantage of you. We talked about this."
Kalim seemed torn, because he would never call you a liar. Yet he'd also never call Jamil one either.
"Then where are you going?" his voice arced, tinted with worry. You suspected dots were being connected in that brilliant yet optimistic brain of his.
It was at this point that you were presented with an ultimatum. One look at his frustrated pout and it was thrown out the window. Kalim wasn't someone you could ever lie to.
"I'm not going anywhere! I'm - "
A sharp thud of a closed door cut you off.
"They're going to be 'training,' Kalim. You knew this was being arranged. Stop kicking a fuss and making them feel unnecessary stress."
Two fresh glasses of pomegranate juice were set on the table, followed by a pitcher and a boardgame you'd never seen before.
Jamil slid into the seat to your left and Kalim's right, angled to face the garden. His expression impassive, which usually meant he was angry. A dart of charcoal to the left meant it was at you.
Apparently it was much easier if Kailm was only not involved, but also entirely unaware. You'd just ruined that, and the horrified stretch of Kalim's gaping jaw meant it was about to be everyone's problem.
"Please let me in! I need to see them!"
You didn't need a face to know who's voice hung outside the door. You did not need to listen through the hazed trenches that were your mind. Everything sounded waterlogged beyond your labored breaths and the occasional wheeze as whatever lingered in your stomach evacuated into the toilet.
Another bout came, burning through your nose and flushing every part of your body. Your head lolled towards the bowl again before it came up.
"Sir! I assure you they're alright. The ipecac's been administered and just needs to run its course. It's better that you stay at a distance until we find out if the dose administered was wrong, or if there's another illness at play." a lower, colder, more-aged voice carried through. Obviously pacifying the first. If only your skin felt as cool and collected. Everything burned.
More vomit pushed through.
Ah...that's right. It was the fifth week of your lessons and most of the day was now dedicated to the hard push. The burn wasn't just in your throat, but in your muscles. Sore couldn't begin to describe the ache.
Although it paled in comparison to the twist in your stomach and twitching nerves. The first week of toxicology's physical lessons were a learning curve, but you pushed through the tolerance training. Enough to end your days with a tired goodbye and kiss to the phone with Kalim before falling into bed.
So why was your body reacting so violently?
You puked again. This time mostly watery bile. It burned more in the nose and struck the chest.
A third voice came. Calm, cold as the second, but younger - "How about I go inside, Kalim? Will you calm down if I go make sure they're fine?"
"No! I won't calm down! I order you to let me inside right now!" the first took a harsh note that was practically unrecognizable. Suddenly you weren't so sure who was out there.
Silence.
You were grateful for it, but scared. Your thoughts cleared but then that's all there was. Just searing heat everywhere as your vision swam and your stomach muscles pulled.
You gagged over the toilet but nothing came out. Nothing but tears and a pinched gasp. Your eyes clenched shut as a wheezing, pained whimper came from somewhere. When none of the earlier voices came back, you realized the cry was your own.
Your chin, perched on the bowl's rim, began to slip from the sweat on a smooth surface. You barely managed to crack your eyes open before the world flipped, and you were going to hopefully find cold relief on the tile floor.
The impact was far softer than you'd imagined. Maybe the tiles were enchanted? Is that something magic can do -
"Oh - ya Albi, ya Rouhi, ya Amar ... it's going to be okay, alright? We have the best doctors. You're safe. I'm here.. Don't cry, ya Albi. Don't cry -"
Someone was crying, and that someone wasn't you. They took the pressure from your joints and held the world steady. A loud whirl of rushing water echoed in the room, and you found the bowl again without any struggle. They held you near and pat something cold and damp along your neck, arms, and forehead.
You opened your mouth to thank them, but it turned to a strangled gasp when your stomach decided otherwise. With nothing left to expel, you were left to dry heave over the bowl filling with fresh water. Whoever was there - kind as they were - held your hair while whispering assurances through their own tears.
Their voice was wonderful. Sweet, and bright, and full of love - you strained to hear it past the ringing.
Who put a bell in the bathroom?
With one last painful lurch, the fire in your body just seemed to spread. You were only human. Would they care if you rested? It wasn't that time in the schedule yet...but surely.
Surely you could nap here with this kind person for just a little while. You still had to call Kalim and kiss him goodnight. This will pass. It had to.
You woke to static. The grey-black speckles sent your heart fluttering breathless until you realized that it was night, and the static was just a trick as your eyes adjusted to the darkness. A white ceiling hung overhead and you felt calm wash over.
It all must have been a bad dream. Surely a night terror, because you felt sticky with sweat yet couldn't remember a thing. Oh well. Sometimes the mind loves to play shoddy tricks like that.
A heavy weight pressed into your side and you let a groan slip out. Stupid Grim and his inability to stick to his half of the bed. You've a mind to banish his furry little butt to the couch for all eternity. With the coat of sweat under your arms right now, his heat wasn't helping.
"Grim -" you tried to hiss. Key word is 'tried'.
One word and your throat flared up like a hot grill. The gasp that followed through with some lighter fluid. Fear settle in between your ribs and you tried to wrestle free of the sheets. Yet the slightest movement felt like pulling the world's heaviest marionette string.
Then you remembered. You had a dreamless sleep, and the nightmare was one lived.
And with memory came no comfort.
Your hands fist at the sheets. One stuck under the heavy weight that you couldn't turn your head to check, the other tugged at a chord near your ear. One bleary glance showed the outline of an IV pole.
At least you were hydrated now. Enough to feel the sting in your eyes as a pathetic whimper slipped out.
Suddenly the staticky ceiling wasn't there anymore.
Rubies. Beautiful, shining rubies decorated the ceiling. The weight pinning your other arm was gone and it wasn't your beloved furball warming the bed.
"Are you awake? Can you hear me? Ya Albi, can you talk?"
That sweet voice from your 'dream' spoke overhead, its owner was the only one you know with such kindness that is should have been obvious even when delirious. Kalim, with his hair sticking out in all directions from restless turning, held your numb hand in both his own like a sacred treasure as he spoke.
"I'm here. You don't have to do any more, I promise. We're back home now. It's okay, ya Albi."
Your heart clenched for an entirely different reason now. The tears came before you could send them elsewhere, and he panicked.
"Does it hurt? It'll be okay! Don't cry! I'll get the doctor, okay? Just wait here," he turned to rush out in a panic, but you wouldn't let go of his hand.
"I'm so sorry."
Your throat croaked, raw from acid and dying for a drink. Not that you deserved one right now.
Kalim's normally sunny smile was nowhere to be found. He leaned down, still holding your hand, and pressed his palm to your forehead.
The sight of your tears misted his eyes, "Why are you apologizing? I'm the reason you're stuck like this!"
"I was so close," you squeezed his hand. Guilt coated your tongue, "one more week and we would have been okay. I'm so sorry that I failed. I'm so so sorry."
Kalim stared at you for one long moment. His red-rimmed, puffy eyes had become too much to look at. Your lips pinched with pain when your head lolled to the opposite side. Choosing to watch the IV steadily drip its cold, healing venom into your free arm.
It lasted a whole three seconds, before he had your cheeks in his hands. Kalim pulled you back and pressed an even longer kiss to your temple. His breathing came unsteady. It was the most distressed you'd ever seen him.
Zing.
"You've done more than enough! More than I could ever ask! You did great! It's not your fault that the - the - " his throat tightened. Kalim shook his head as if to discard an awful memory. Whatever he learned - or did - before, it wasn't something he was ready to talk about.
"It doesn't matter! None of it matters because you're fine now! I'll talk to Jamil's dad myself if I have to."
Kalim pulled away but did not release his hold on your face. He pouted, puffed his cheeks out in the way that shows he is trying to be assertive but not threatening. Like he was afraid to be threatening in any way. Whatever he did to be here with you must have shaken him. So much that you wouldn't dare to ask. Even if you could never see him as anything but different stages of the sun. The dawn, the high noon, or the dusk.
Your eyes smiled, but the fear lingered. Especially after you gave your word, "what about the last week? I didn't finish the -"
He cut in, "You don't need the last week! You did enough!"
"Can I at least try again to -"
"No! I'm nullifying it. No more. You've done enough!"
He punctuated this by squishing your cheeks together. His thumb pads pressed the corners of your mouth gently. Kalim is always the type to love so abundantly, but he showed such restraint in this moment.
There was no room for arguments. Whatever you said, he would deny it with those passionate misty eyes that held you like you were his most precious gift. Kalim would do whatever it took to be with you. His cognition altered into something more genuine - something more self-actualized.
You truly loved him - and you’d be willing to stick by him through anything. No money or power would stop you. No threats. No obstacles.
Kalim’s heart fully shatters in the most reverent way. You see it in his gaze. All the tiny shining fragments that were about to be rebuilt into something just as beautiful, bur far more sturdy.
Kalim would return your loyalty. No matter what. You will be his princess. Nothing will ever be too much. He will adore you until he can’t anymore in this life and then he will adore you beyond.
There is nothing Kalim would not do to keep you.
"Okay," and you trust him. Whatever would be said once morning came, it would work out. Kalim would ensure it did. You trust him.
He smiled. Pinched your cheeks as his own spread in a sniffly mess that was both relieved and as dazzling as any other despite his cheeks painted over with dried tears. The pain to create space was worth it. He helped you move with the care of someone who learned how to handle flora properly for the first time, and slotted himself at your side like he was meant to be there forever.
Jamil worked swiftly against the ticking clock. The hideously tacky timer mocked him from its perch on the counter. The old rooster looked like something straight out of a time-capsule from twenty-years ago. Something only someone with horrible taste would willingly choose, with its chipped gullet and uneven paint job.
Something utterly unimpressive, but still worked.
What bothered Jamil most was the loud ticking. What an incessant noise in exchange for something he could measure mentally from years of practice. Almost as much as it's rooster squawk that wasn't any more preferable to the sharp 'Briiiiiiing' of the usual alarm.
An annoyance, but one of many that he tolerated. He made to dice the strips of red, green, and yellow peppers that were pushed from the right of him. Each rhythmic clack of his paring knife against the wooden cutting board matched up with the timer's annoying ticking. He didn't mean for them to sync. It just happened.
"Sloppy sloppy," you tut over Jamil's shoulder, "your knife work is shit."
Jamil's eyelid twitched. There goes annoyance number two.
"So is your grilling. How about watching the pan instead of breathing down my neck like a pest," he allowed himself one look. Charcoal black ready to drag you if need be. Especially if he has to serve burned vegetable and egg burritos for breakfast.
"I didn't know this kitchen had an infestation. I guess it figures, since you can't kill a little bug."
He cocked a brow, smirk on his lip. Tick in his jaw.
"Just one," he peacocked with a smug squint , "I'll kill it eventually. Hideous thing needs something stronger than the usual bleach bath."
You flicked at his nape and the knife almost diced his pinky. In the urgency to pull it away, he almost grazed your forearm with the backside. He flipped the handle so it hit the board, cutting an uneven chunk off one of the strips.
Jamil spun, "My tolerance is at a three. It's too early in the day for you."
Had you one braincell to think that touching someone with a sharp object is a bad idea? Obviously not. Your lack of self-preservation miffed him far more than it should.
"Does that mean I'm better taken during the afternoon?" you grinned. It pressed the fat of your cheeks up like a smug imp. Jamil counted to three in his head, rolled his eyes, and made to dice again. Still in time with that damn rhythmic ticking.
"Hardly," he grunt.
You moved to spoon the diced peppers into a bowl of egg, milk, cheese, and other spices - readying for the pan on his behalf. He muttered a low thanks, already letting the momentary anger simmer out for a later visitation.
"The evening?" you proposed.
"No."
You leaned over the counter without missing a beat, far too close within his personal space.
Gentle fingers brushed the side-lock he normally kept stray from his braids and tucked it behind his ear. Jamil clenched his teeth behind his practiced scowl, holding the knife far tighter than needed. Its so he doesn't slip up again. His excuse if you asked.
"That just leaves us with the night then," you purred, obviously baiting him for a reaction. To faulter, "how unexpectedly sweet."
Jamil stabbed the knife into the board where the wood weathered a spot for it. 'Expression in restraint' - he told himself. Even if he wanted nothing more than to say the seven different comebacks that just swarmed his mind all at once. Some more indulgent than others.
Control yourself.
The sharp move would read as him making sure the knife was secure from accidents, at least to the others loitering about.
Your victorious grin said you'd not be so easily fooled.
"Not even then," Jamil hissed with a heated glare. Your touch was like a fire ant, stinging a path from his jaw to ear without leaving any physical trace. His skin stayed the usual tawny brown. He knew from that disappointed flicker in your eye. Good. Even his body knew to obey when it mattered.
Your bickering was cut short before either party could claim victory. Jamil was grateful for the loud noise of something being scraped out of a pan. At least until he turned and saw Kalim emptying a half-burnt batch of eggs into one of the empty mixing bowls.
Insert annoyance number three.
Jamil couldn't decide to be mad that you let Kalim take over in exchange for the chance to torture him, or that breakfast would now have a hint of bitter smoke to it.
Why not both.
"Give me that!" he darted over to lower the stovetop's heat and pulled the hot pan out of Kalim's grasp, "you're not supposed to cook it on high heat! The eggs dry out before the cheese has a chance to melt."
Not that Jamil expected Kalim to know that, since he hadn't cracked an egg in his life until you forced one into his happy-go-lucky hand. Which he broke. Two of them. Before he finally got one in the bowl without spilling eggshells.
Jamil shot you a glare. One that you ignored. This is why he cooks alone.
"Sorry! I guess I let it cook too long," Kalim grimaced and stepped to the side easily enough. Jamil made quick work to separate the burnt mixture from the rest and keep close to the stove now.
You pressed between them, setting the fresh mixture for Jamil's easy access and offered Kalim a placating smile.
"No worries, no worries. Jamil's just got his panties in a twist. The burnt bits are still edible. Just crunchy!"
You'd be getting one of the 'crunchy' ones, Jamil will make sure of it. He'll spare an edible one too. Only after you believe the punishment is served. Although he fully expects you to eat the nasty thing with a smile. Anything to spite him.
Jamil rolled his eyes, "You'll eat anything. Sure you're not Grim in disguise?"
"You'll brood over anything," you argued, "sure you're not Leona in disguise?"
Never mind the cheap shots at those not present.
Jamil agitated the eggs with his lips twitching to smile, before whipping his head to deliver a fake-sneer, "You whine over everything. Sure you're not - "
"Wow!" Kalim cut through the war-zone like a silver bullet, "you guys sure do argue a lot compared to the start of the year. I think I understand where the rumors are coming from."
Jamil froze in place, only knowing to flip the eggs through pure muscle memory. He prodded Kalim with the most stressed glare he could muster. The warning kind a mother gives their misbehaving child in a crowded restaurant.
"What rumors?" you turned to Kalim, who sat at the kitchen island with a glass of coconut juice in hand.
Jamil tried everything. He made an 'X' with his arms over your shoulder. He waved the spatula like it was his magic pen and could place a silencer. He screamed at the gods to give Kalim a functioning brain cell just this once.
"All the guys think you hate each other," Kalim said.
The gods only offered their great middle-finger from the sky. As they always did when Jamil was involved.
Kalim continued, as if he hadn't just sent a crucial attack "I didn't really understand where the other guys were coming from. You both are always together! Practically joined at the hip every free day! Plus, you wouldn't come around Scarabia if you didn't like hanging out here. Right? I thought they were all being silly. Especially when they came to ask me about it instead of Jamil himself. Although I don't think Jamil cares about that kind of thing...right, Jamil?"
Both sets of curious eyes turned to the questioned in that moment. Jamil was back to pulling the second batch of perfectly-cooked eggs free from the pan. His movements fluid, practiced, and at ease. As if he wasn't just flailing his arms like an improve dancer. So much for having tact.
Worst of all, he couldn't see your face. Not that he wanted to in this moment.
"I heard about it, but there are changing rumors all the time. People get bored when they don't have enough to do," he shrugged, trying his best to keep his tone even. It suddenly became more of a challenge. Maybe that training camp idea could be revisited.
You were silent. Too silent. Of course Jamil knew of the rumors. He was aware of the slightest change within Scarabia walls.
Jamil didn't want you to know about them. Damage control, he called it. Which wasn't a lie. Not entirely. Silence settled aside from the sizzling pan.
"I didn't realize people were so stupid," you said, and the lack of concern threw both Scarabia residents for a twist.
Jamil controlled himself enough to only take a glance. You'd perched on one of the empty counters, taking bites of leftover cheese from the store bag.
"We bust each others chops all the time, but that's for fun. Of course I love Jamil," you said between bites, "your dorm-mates need to get a life. No offense."
"None taken." - Jamil found his voice, although at no small expense. His every last effort was used to maintain impassivity.
He had to gather himself, before his dopey-eyed Housewarden with those eyes way too big for his head busted right out of his chair and tackled you off the counter. The buzzing branching from Jamil's own shot nerves needed to wait. Not with another bomb about to explode.
Jamil acted fast. He grabbed the first thing he could see - the stack of silverware and seat pads that he'd meant to set out once everything was done cooking. For someone who never abandons a lit fire, he was eager to grab them and shove them into your arms.
"Woah! What're you doing?"
He didn't register your shock. There was only so much restraint one man can embody.
Jamil held the stack steady and pulled you from the counter, "I need you to set up in the main hall. Thanks to Kalim's burnt batch, we're short on time and everyone else is going to wake up soon."
The excuses flied off his tongue like all the other lies he's told. Kalim opened his mouth to offer help, but a tortilla stuffed in shut him right up.
Some insult and non-committal tease flew from you as Jamil all but shoved you from the kitchens.
Just a moment longer, "Don't argue. Just make yourself useful for once instead of being a freeloader."
"Excuse me!? I am not -"
You were out the doorway, arms full, and ready to fire something Jamil wasn't steady enough for.
He glowered, "Fine! If not you, then make up the workload for Grim's bottomless stomach! My patience is at a zero!"
The door swung shut. Jamil held the knob until the sounds of displeased curses disappeared to nothing. Only then did he let go of his breath. It trembled out into the air, as went his steady thoughts. They were all twisting faster than he could keep up.
He let go and turned around.
Only to suck the air back in, because Kalim perched himself right where you had sat as he munched on his tortilla. His beaming smile wide enough to catch flies. Too bad there were none for him to choke on.
Briiiiiiiing!
Maybe the rooster.
"Come on, Jamil! At least think about it some more! What's the worst that can happen?"
Jamil pinched the bridge of his nose. It seems that the world truly wasn't going to spare him a moment of breadth today so that he might actually gather his thoughts. This was the third time Kalim tried to strike up a conversation since morning.
If the dunderhead was normal, then maybe he'd grasp that this wasn't a conversation Jamil wanted to have. Let alone with him.
"If it's not a question about the homework, then focus! There's only an hour left until you have pop music club and you need to study for Trein's quiz tomorrow," Jamil kept his tone even. Getting angry would only probe Kalim's prying more.
He still insisted. Kalim hadn't lifted his pencil in five minutes and Jamil's was about to snap in his grip.
"I don't see what the big deal is," he rambled on. The fool was just hearing what he wanted to hear at this point, "you heard it! They love you, and you love them! Why don't you both stop arguing all the time and go do something fun. I'll be good for a day - I can even go spend it with Silver or Cater if it'll make you feel better. Why can't you just try?"
Jamil imagined Kalim's head blowing up like a balloon, because clearly there was nothing up there but hot air.
"First off? I don't love them. We're cordial because of your friendship," Jamil was accustomed to the taste of a lie. Especially ones that he fed himself, "Second? If you'd pay attention to context clues, they meant it platonically."
This wasn't so much a lie, as an assumption. One Jamil came to as a practical conclusion during his brief moments to think during class. Focusing was a struggle. Thankfully most lessons were predatory for midterms and Jamil was ahead.
"Third," he hissed through his teeth, "even if it was true. Even if we did feel anything like that for each other, pursuing a relationship is pointless."
What you shared with Jamil right now was plenty. Whatever it was. He wouldn't give it a name. Now when it would slip through his fingers. Just like how you don't name animals that you don't plan to keep.
Kalim went quiet, and Jamil returned to his work. Whether he was going to press the issue further or not, it did not matter. Jamil wouldn't answer another question irrelevant to their school work and Kalim knew the conversation was over.
When ten minutes passed, Jamil thought he finally got the memo.
Sixteen years and somehow there was still some hope to be crushed.
"You look at them like you look at the color green and the moon," Kalim whispered, as if he was breaking a rule by talking. Like Jamil had any real authority to tell him not to.
Even if that one sentence pushed too far. As if Kalim knew what he wanted. Jamil couldn't tell what pissed him off more. The audacity, or that he was on the mark.
Jamil pressed down harsh into where he'd been making a copy of his notes. The lead broke, scattering graphite like pixie dust.
"I've never seen you this happy Jamil! In fact, I've never seen you act the way you do with them with anyone else! It's different!" The hidden desire there wasn't hidden at all. Even if Kalim encouraged Jamil to be who he wants after overblotting...they were master and servant.
Jamil could never act like himself near Kalim. Not fully. Even if the latter wanted the former to find happiness somewhat. It was impossible.
He also couldn't be himself around their peers. There was too much competition. Too many things to worry about. Everyone had a side, and no one was on Jamil's except for himself.
Kalim wouldn't drop it, "You love them! And even if they didn't mean it the same way, why can't it be like that someday? You're the smartest person I know. You can do anything and that includes this! Why can't you just admit it?"
Looking down at the ruined set of notes - the spares for Kalim to review and would now need to be redone - Jamil felt his patience for the topic snap. He smacked his pencil to the desk. Loud enough for finality, but still in his restraints.
"Do you want the truth, Kalim?" Jamil released a slow exhale through his nose and count to three.
Then his eyes narrowed to slits. Dangerous. Like a predator on its final leg.
"Everything is pointless. I am cordial with them because that is all we will ever be. They will return to wherever they came from, or by some miracle they'll last the rest of their time here before going wherever else until our paths cross maybe once for the rest of our lives. I will go back home with you, and we will fulfill the roles given to us. There is no time or place for me to consider anything else."
Jamil looks at you like the color green and the moon. Except he is a child of he Scalding Sands. His colors are red, gold, and he lives in the blazing sun.
You are one fleeting joy that he is not going to indulge because there is only one way this will end. Snuffed out, like a candle lit too soon. His wick left a stump that can't ever be relit.
There is no place for Jamil in your life. Not a crevice. He doesn't have the liberty to make space in his, and frankly doesn't want to share the burdens.
You belong elsewhere, and he belongs to the Asims. He is not, and would never be, an option for you to choose.
"I'm infatuated with someone I can't have. There is no manual for that. There is no answer. There is no escaping it. Whatever we have now is already pushing the limit."
Jamil does not love you.
He does not want you.
You do not want him.
That is the story, and that is what will remain written. Whatever your brief bouts of mischief and close calls will stay until the due course has run out.
Kalim goes to club with that as his answer.
Jamil did not want to discuss this, and never plans to address the issue again.
"Are you mentally five? Do we need to enroll you in primary school?
Jamil let the nerve in his eyelid run wild. He left his seat for five minutes to change into ceremonial robes. Only five minutes. This was supposed to be his rest time and -
and you just -
"You said I had to give up the chair. Not that I had to give up the cushions."
The absurdity of it all would have sent him on a spiral if it was anyone else. You stood up from the seat, proud as gazelle in the forest. All the cushions were tucked under your arms in a tight grip.
"The cushions are the essence of the chair, you buffoon!"
"That's right," you yelled from the doorway, "I'm taking the essence! It's what you get for not sharing!"
You were gone. Off with the bathroom door slamming shut with a resounding slam. By the time you'd gotten the robes wrapped right, he'd have a crick in his neck and his hair would be knotted in the framework springs.
Jamil can't decide if you did this on purpose, or if you were being petty. Both. Always both.
"Let me do your sash. At the snail's pace you move, I won't get any rest."
"Jamil? I think I'm lost. I don't know how your fancy shmancy magic GPS works, but either we're skating at something that looks like a rough n' tumble bar from a shoddy sitcom....or I messed up. Please pick up the phone. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. PICK UP. PICK UP. I SWEAR IF YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE -"
Jamil swipes the voicemail off with a devilish grin daring to show itself. He stood outside the agreed meeting spot, his hip jut to lean against one of the building's pillars. There were 14 missed calls, a series of colorful text messages, and three other colorful voicemails for him to enjoy on loop later that night.
It's your fault for trusting him, really. As if he wouldn't take the chance to send the wrong coordinates and have the little ramshackle prefect hiking through foothill town. That's what you get for convincing Kalim to go roller skating the weekend before an exam.
Rather than call, Jamil thinks you've earned the right to squirm a bit more. He smiles to himself with the occasional snicker, watching the family tracker linked to your cell blink on the other side of town.
He'll be there soon. If you're that scared, you can even hold his hand on the way back. Only if you insist, of course.
Finally.
Hot water rushes down his back from shoulders to ankles. While Jamil was used to the strain of daily exercise, there was only so much someone could take before they were dead on their feet. This is the last time he ever let Kalim volunteer to do festival cleanup. Like always, Jamil's schedule was flipped upside down and he was stuck pulling a near thirty-six hour day.
What's worse is that it was wash day for his hair, and he couldn't neglect it. Not with tomorrow being just as packed.
Jamil allows himself a moment of respite. Be it one minute or ten, he fights against sleep and allows the shower steam to uncoil all the stress building since the moment he could talk.
When his fingers feel ready to raisin, he pulls from the shower wall and blindly reaches for the shampoo. He squirts a large amount into his palm, disregarding the weight and sour sting in his nose. Must be residuals of the bonfire smoke.
His palms rub together to work a lather. Seconds pass, but he doesn't feel the weight turn to the normal sudsy mess he's used to.
Jamil opens his eyes with no easy effort, expecting soap.
And his hands are covered in sour cream.
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME RIGHT NOW!?"
When he throws his arms out in disgust, the white sauce flicks and scatters all over the shower wall.
He stands frozen. Wet strands clinging to his face. Just one moment from being ruined.
The culprit isn't even a question.
"I...am going to kill you."
Maybe he's finally lost it, because he doesn't even want revenge. Leave it to you to slink in his thoughts at every possible moment. Somehow toppling every other worry like a bulldozer.
In the solitude of a shower, he makes a face that would frighten children. A pinch of anger, a dash of hysteria, a sprinkle of exasperation, and a heaping scoop of - of -
UGH. He WON'T say it. Not even here.
Jamil doesn't know whether to laugh, or check himself into a psych ward. He chooses the former.
"I hate you." - He still won't say it.
So, if Jamil doesn't love you.
Then he hates you.
Yes, he hates you. He hates you so much.
Dormitories at Night Raven College are like territories. Nothing so serious as a gang staking claim over land, but the students hardly branched out. They were compliant with others, especially during clubs and in classes.
A well-spoken divide lingered. Those within the same dorm saw each other more, some were roommates, and the connections were typically stronger.
You were a lone wolf. You were an exception.
In your words - Switzerland. Which apparently meant something to people from your world. To Jamil, the name just belonged to a type of cheese.
As Switzerland - as Ramshackle - you were not pulled to a dorm like he was. You fraternized simply to do so, and that was your business to handle. Be it with Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, or any of the others. Your business with them was not his circus, and not his monkeys. He never tried to stake a claim beyond Kalim's offers for you to transfer, which Jamil slowly stopped protesting over time.
You never agreed. You are Switzerland. You are Ramshackle. You are neutral. You won't make a choice or pick a side.
Jamil accepted this. In a way, the rejection solved another issue of claim in a way.
"Do we have a problem?" Jamil asked, voice flat, even though logic told him to go back to his seat.
Yet when your eyes pulled from the student leaning over your desk - purple lapels, overconfident, an Octavinelle freshman. He deduces in succession - and look at him with relief? Logic takes a different path.
Suddenly it feels highly logical to insert himself against a possible catalyst for war.
The student stiffens, recognizing Sacrabia's vice for who he is and Jamil falls to his practiced smile.
"Ah! Hello there. There's no problem, I was just asking the prefect here if they'd be coming by the Mostro Lounge tonight," the boy's smile is just as practiced. He slips it on so easily, eyes darting to Jamil's hand sliding on the back of your chair.
"I wasn't aware you had a shift tonight," Jamil feigned concern, turning his attention away. You sat stiff like wood before, but were loosening up, "I thought we were studying together for Crewel's bioethics exam. Did I mix up the dates?"
The look you gave him was one of confusion. He flicked his eyes to the student he wouldn't bother learning the name of, and back to you.
"Oh, yes!" the dots aligned and you shouted in delight. Jamil felt pride that you weren't so mindless to miss his meaning, but of course no one is perfect.
"I'm glad to see your excited for tutoring," he snickered, playing your relief off as something else.
Jamil returned his attention to the boy. Smile in place yet it did not reach his eyes, "Sorry about that- " he was not "-it seems there's been a misunderstanding. The prefect often comes to Scarabia while Grim is doing his cram hours with Heartslabyul's Housewarden, Riddle Rosehearts. It seems you'll have to reschedule."
Jamil couldn't control how his voice dropped two octaves. It was instinct. Not enough to warrant notice from a teacher, but clearly a threat to anyone with a working brain.
Octavinelle was not known for taking students who were oblivious to the fine print. The freshman's eyes crescent to unfriendly, combative slits. The meaning was received.
"That's quite alright," he addressed you rather than Jamil, "I'll be sure to pen a spot in advance next time then. See you around?"
You nodded with a muttered agreeance. Jamil resisted the urge to scoff. It seems their dorm leader wasn't the only one who stuck his nose where it didn't belong.
Jamil waits in the empty chair at your side while the class files out. He shoots a brief text to Kalim, telling him that he'll be late to lunch and to wait in his class. Unnecessary really. Jamil's already diffused a problem that wasn't his to solve.
He hates you though, so he has some choice words to impart.
You're the first to speak once the room is empty, "Thanks."
"That's it? Just 'thanks'?" he lets a hard edge take. It's not hard when alone with you.
"Thanks for getting him off my back," you clarified. No eye roll? No backlash for intruding on 'ramshackle' business?
Jamil clicks his tongue, "Well, it was hard to sit and watch his painful attempts at flirting. You should know better than to be passive at Night Raven. People here don't take hints unless they want to."
"Wait - what?"
You turn to him - surprised. It's genuine too.
"You mean to tell me that went over your head? I didn't think you were that obtuse. I almost feel bad for the guy now."
Jamil did not feel a shred of pity for one of those sneaky cretonnes. Respect? Yes. They know how to fight dirty. Just so long as it isn't Jamil's business that they dig into.
Your face twists into something in-between ready to vomit, and about to jump out the window.
"I just thought he was trying to recruit me into Octavinelle. Azul's been after my dorm ever since I got the deed. I wouldn't put it behind him to sick every freshman I share a class with to try and schmooze it," you grimaced with a shiver.
Of course he wanted the deed. Jamil makes no effort to pry into affairs that would directly cause him trouble, but if he'd be forced to watch this every day?
Maybe it would best to act early. So Kalim doesn't try to throw his cards in and force you into Scarabia.
Yes. So Kalim doesn't have too act.
"It could be both," Jamil mused the idea. He needed more details but could already picture a straightforward plan. Azul would have one of the freshman win your heart, move you in, get the deed - play the slow game, so to speak. He'd get you as a valuable chess piece and the dorm.
It's what Jamil would do in his position.
You balked at the thought, "Ew! NO!"
Now that the thought was in Jamil's head, his mind twisted around a handful of possibilities. The image of you in another dorm other than Ramshackle already set a bad taste in his mouth.
He could bypass it. That wasn't his business.
Yet the thought of you on the arm of one of those idiots was something stronger. Disdainful.
You'd live well, surely. Most students who go to Night Raven leave with high-paying jobs secured after their fourth year internship. If you didn't want to work, someone would take you as a trophy spouse easily. You'd be well off, amicable at the minimum, and with easy burdens like picking the next day's dinner. Only your own family to look after or even just yourself if that's how you wanted it.
It makes Jamil sick with envy. Not only because it's everything he wants, but because you can only have it without him.
He 'hates' you.
So much his hands fist on instinct and he quickly tucked them into his jacket pockets.
"It might not be so bad. Students from Octavinelle usually lead promising career paths. Ramshackle's old anyways. You'd be moving up," Jamiil has no idea what he's saying.
Yes he does, and this isn't about dorms. You can't be 'Ramshackle' forever.
"Stop it! I'd rather die!" your hiss accompanies a rather hard punch to his shoulder.
Jamil gapes, "Don't hit me, you brute!"
"Well don't tell me to hook up with another dorm!"
"It was a logical suggestion for your future!"
"And a shitty one! Idiot! Not everything's about trading up!"
You shiver in disgust as another gag rips up. Jamil lets his eyes roll at the over dramatics, if anyone should be gagging in disgust? It's him.
He pulls his hair over one shoulder, bringing some up to hide his lower face. The image of you on that idiot's arm made it hard to control himself. He scowls into it, burying down the hatred for you clawing its way out.
When no infantile insult follows the beating, Jamil's sure you'd either gone to rant with whatever other friends you kept. Even if he doesn't hear the footsteps.
"I wouldn't...choose someone like that- "
Jamil dares to look over, "Don't mumble. It's hard enough to hear you when you're not speaking gibberish."
Jamil needs to put a silence charm on his own mouth.
Your cheeks rosette a deep shade in response.
"I said that I wouldn't choose someone like that! I don't like - mrgh!"
You dragged your hands from forehead to neck. The frustrated scream pitched like a kicked dog from behind your hands. Jamil would enjoy this thoroughly if his heart didn't just plummet to his feet.
You turned to him so fast, the chair tipped.
"I'm unfortunately already bound to an oblivious asshole, who thinks it's funny to joke about leaving me so that I can spend my life smelling like fish tacos and bad decisions!"
Zing.
"I hate you sometimes, Jamil!"
Against his better judgement. Those three words spurred something that had Jamil out of alternatives. Because now that they'd left your lips, now that he'd heard them, there wasn't any way he could use them in his own mind.
There wasn't any way for him to divert the impending binds you had over him. You couldn't be Ramshackle. You couldn't be Switzerland.
Jamil couldn't 'not love' you.
Jamil couldn't 'hate' you.
I love -
Nope. He still can’t say it.
"Well I can't stand you either! Stop giving me extra work to worry about!"
GLORIOUS MASQUERADE CREW REACTING TO READER WHO HURT THEIR HANDS (PT.1)
A/N : this takes place during the Fleur City event when we go off with Trein to help people! Please be kind to me I’m getting back into fanfic writing after a 2 year break! If they’re ooc I’m so sorry :( my partner proofread the first 3 and I proofread the second so sorry if one is better 💔
TW(s): mention of being hurt & bleeding, kinda description of wounds but not really?
MALLEUS DRACONIA
Your hands burned from the amount of weeding you had done within the past few hours, you couldn’t even feel the cuts anymore. At first it hurt quite a lot but now your hands just felt numb, fixed in a certain position from the pain that coursed through her hands, arms, and back. You almost couldn’t believe that you made it through all this. You almost didn’t make it through the gates of Noble Bell College. Professor Trein wasn’t doing any better though, maybe his hands looked better but his back was definitely worse.. He’d have to see a chiropractor after this was all over and they finally got back to Sage Island.
As soon as you got through the gates Malleus was standing there awaiting your arrival back. His face lit up in joy when he finally saw you, he let you walk yourself over to him as he wasn’t aware of your injuries. When you finally got over there Trein and Grim went their separate ways, both just as exhausted as you were. He went to go grab your hand, surprised when he saw the cuts and newly developing bruises on your hand. His face quickly darkened at the sight of this, doing his best to avoid causing any further injury.
“Child of man.. We must get you first aid.”
He tried to hide his fury, for your sake at least.. But you could tell from the way the sky darkened. You appreciated his restraint though, he did a lot for your sake. You wished you could praise him for this but you couldn’t find the words. Your hands still burned and the pain was finding its way back now that you were finally settling down. Once he saw your lack of response he took the lead in the situation, his hand finding the small of your back so he could lead you towards the nursing station.
As soon as he saw the long line of people in need of medical assistance he sighed, he’d have to just help you himself until he could get you back to Night Raven tomorrow. Instead of leading you back to your own room he decided to take you up to his room so he could carefully monitor your wounds. Malleus sat you down onto the bed, bringing your hands closer to him again. He took a deep breath to try and control the hurt he felt on your behalf. It was almost like he felt worse than you did.
“Mal try not to grow grey hairs over this.. It looks worse than it feels.”
His lip simply pouted out at that response, he didn’t enjoy seeing you hurt. Malleus blamed himself for not being able to protect you from this, he should’ve foreseen this outcome. That much weeding couldn’t be good for any human body..
“I am sorry child of man.”
All you could do was sigh, dramatic as always.. This was the first time you smiled all night after such a stressful day. No matter what Malleus could always manage to make you smile.
“Malleus this isn’t your fault and you fixed the problem! You should feel proud of yourself!”
He looked shocked when you said this instead of feeling upset at him. He really was incredibly lucky to have you in his life. You were the one person who could laugh in the face of Malleus Draconia and that just made him fall deeper for you. Your smile was contagious to him, a small smile blooming onto his face.
“You’re very lucky I love you child of man.”
AZUL ASHENGROTTO
Azul was practically about to pass out after the events that had transpired that night. Having to climb up and down at least 20 flights of stairs? Having to save all of Twisted Wonderland? That was enough to make any merperson fall into a coma. He wasn’t made for all this physical labour… who WAS made for this?? He took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, he’d really need a shower after he made sure you were okay. He believed that you would be, you were resilient and you’ve proved that. A few flowers couldn’t take you out.
When he finally got sight of you he started to approach you despite the wobble in his legs. You took more space in his heart than his legs did. You tried your best to give him a smile, you heard what he’d done that night and didn’t want to worry him. He’d had his fair share of stress tonight you wouldn’t want to add onto that. Sadly, Azul was incredibly observant and noticed how your hands could hardly move from the pain that seared through them.
“What happened my pearl?”
His eyebrows furrowed in concern, his hand grabbing your wrist so he could observe the damage the flowers had done to you. The worst of the cuts had focused themself to your palm and fingers, the backside of your hand probably just red from heat. It relieved him that your whole hand wasn't injured, you really were dangerously selfless. All this to help the people of this city. He’d have to take you to the infirmary if he could even get that far on these legs.
“Just some weeding, nothing a few bandages and antibacterial can’t fix.”
He shook his head at your brazzan attitude about this whole thing. You could hardly move your hands without any pain yet you seemed as cool as a sea cucumber. He sighed as he led you towards the infirmary at the college, following the signs. He predicted the long line in front of them, luckily he had a plan.
“Wait here.”
Before you could respond he had walked off and towards the entrance causing others to either stare in shock or get upset that he had blatantly just skipped everybody that was in line. You could do nothing but hang your head when you saw him act so brazzanly.. He really could be so shameless sometimes. You obliged and waited there until he finally came back about 10 minutes later with a sly smile on his face.
“Come with me my pearl.”
He brought you forward, causing even more looks of confusion to dance across the other's face. You would feel embarrassed if your hands didn’t hurt so bad. You let him lead you over to one of the only empty beds in the whole place.. This situation really was a big mess. All you could do was shake your head about it, Azul taking a seat next to you. You looked over at him with a small smile on your face.
“Did you really have to skip everyone in line?”
At that question Azul just returned your smile, “for you my pearl i would skip many many lines.”
IDIA SHROUD
All Idia wanted to do was climb back into his bed and stay there for at least a week or two. He needed some serious alone time… who knew what he missed out on while stuck here! He missed at least 24 raids, he’s missing out on some major gacha pulls, and he has so much work back at home! Of course he had Ortho covering it but it just wasn’t the same thing! He let out a sigh of relief as soon as he opened the door to his room, finally some peace and quiet. Once you got here his evening really would be perfect, you sure were taking your sweet time but you might be quite a bit into town. He wasn’t a stranger to staying up and he didn’t mind doing it for you.
You struggled with the door considering the state of your hands, luckily Idia noticed that the door handle kept wiggling. What kinda ghosts were here?! He quickly got up from where he was laying and rushed towards the door, cracking the door open just a little. Once he saw that it was just you he was extremely relieved and opened up the door for you, quickly pulling you inside by your hand. He looked totally shocked when you flinched, biting your lip so you didn’t yelp.
“Whats wrong?”
Idia whispered out, looking down at his hands to see just a small bit of blood on them but that just caused him to start panicking. His mind started to buzz just seeing the slight bit of blood. You could see the panic in his face, now it was your turn to be worried about him.
“Hey ‘Dia it's okay don’t worry.. I just hurt my hands, nothing fatal lets take care of it okay? I have stuff.. I always come prepared!”
You put a smile on your face, luckily this seemed to bring him back down to earth. He walked towards your suitcase and opened it up, grabbing the supplies from where he knew it would be. He threw it onto the bed and opened it up for you, handing you the alcohol wipes so you could start cleaning them up while he got out the bandaids. He couldn’t help but smile himself once he saw you brought the bandages he got you of your favourite character from a game he introduced to you.
“You’re so cringe.”
He teased, you were just relieved he was already back to normal. You just rolled your eyes at him, holding your hands out at him as he got to work. He was so focused on patching you up one would think that he was working on a serious project. He finished after 5 minutes of intense focus, making sure every bandage was placed perfectly.
“Aw wait, it looks so cute!”
You held up your hands so he could see them, your hands covered in the video game character you loved so. He put on a shy smile when you called his hard work cute, directing you to lay down so you could relax. He was adorable when he was worried, you couldn’t help but be smitten.
“You’re lucky you’re a valuable player 2..”
JAMIL VIPER
Jamil was so tired, he ran all across the academy finding students to use as meat shields for at least an hour, maybe even more. All he wanted to do was climb into bed with you and sleep for the rest of the day and probably the night as well. He decided he’d wait for you to arrive back at the school before he went back to his room. He wanted to make sure you were okay even if he felt like he was about to collapse. Jamil felt incredibly relieved when you finally made it back to the school for well needed rest after a long night. He reached out his hand to you so you could grab it but you instead pulled your hand away, that was odd..
“Whats wrong?”
He asked without missing a beat. The last thing you wanted to do was worry him but if you lied you know he’d know as soon as the lie left your lips. You decided you might as well just be honest with him instead of getting caught up in a lie. You held out your hands to him to show him the cuts and newly formed bruises on your hands.
“Sorry.. I got too caught up in trying to help. I kinda lost sight of my own wellbeing.”
He nodded as he examined the wounds, most of them were just superficial wounds luckily. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding seeing this, it was a relief worse didn’t happen.
“It’s alright… I’m just glad that you’re in one piece. Let's go back to my room, I came prepared.”
You couldn’t help but smile when he mentioned the fact that he ‘came prepared’, he had drilled it into Deuce's head that he should come prepared so just hearing him say it made you want to chuckle. Jamil was nothing if not consistent..
“Alright I trust you.”
You bumped him with your hip which made him snort in response, he almost couldn’t believe you still decided to mess with him despite the situation you were in at the moment. It made him feel better knowing that you still had your spark despite all that happened tonight. He looked around for a second to make sure nobody was watching before he placed a kiss onto your cheek, a soft smile now on his face.
“You better be celebrating the fact that I love you..”
You laughed when he said that, he was successfully distracting you from how bad your hands hurt. Jamil was always good at keeping you calm, of course he was, he knew you better than anyone else did. You followed him all the way back to his room, kicking off your shoes and sitting down on a chair that was in the room. You watched him as he went into a specific compartment in his bag, taking out his first aid and setting it down onto a table in front of you carefully.
“This might hurt for a second but it’ll be quick.”
You nodded as he took out some rubbing alcohol, dousing a cotton pad with it before he went to work on cleaning up the cuts on your hands. You let out a hiss when you felt the burning alcohol start to make your hands sting, your fingers twitched in pain but after a minute the pain finally subsided. You took a deep breath to try and calm your heart down, Jamil continuing to patch you up as you did so. As soon as he was done he looked at you from where he was sitting, holding your hand gently in his.
“All done.. Let's just relax for the rest of the night, okay?”
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