A Whisker Away― 2 | HQ Movie Collab!

— (๑´`๑)♡ A HEARTFUL ROSE!!

a gift for ari and riddle's wedding!! twst

in honor of their wedding, riddle sends gifts to his dearest beloved before the day of.

tagging. @shinmon-c

disclaimers.. mentions of marriage. reader is up to interpretation. riddle is referred to as both husband and wife. reader is not yuu.

part one (you're here). part two.

reblogs and likes are HEAVILY appreciated. silent readers dni.

you awoke to see a letter addressed to you, and a rose on top of it by your bedside table, looking around you found it empty, it seems riddle must've left for work. you decided to open the sealed letter, and read it.

my dearest, ( ).

how i've been awaiting for this day for so long, we are soon to be wed, it's rather exciting. i can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.

from the day we first met, my mother warned me of trouble, and that you were. fierce, and compassionate. the first time i laid my own eyes on you, i knew you were the one, from all those years ago to now, you have always been my one and only. my one first and only, true love.

i love your smile, how you would always light up at the sight of something you adore, how every day you look so angelic.

i love all of you, your eyes, your hands, everything.

i wish to spend everyday with you, and now i can.

what i am saying is, i love you, so much, i would spend out future with you, you don't know how much you cross my mind, how much you stay in my mind everyday, how i'm looking forward to seeing you everyday after work. what i'm saying is, i love you ( ), and i, am honored to be your soon-to-be husband, or well as you call it, your soon-to-be wife.

forever yours, riddle rosehearts.

finishing the letter, you couldn't help the smile that crept on your face, dropping the letter onto your lap as you cover your face into your hands, after all these years, riddle still managed to make you swoon. how you await the day he is officially forever yours, and how you officially become forever his.

😤 This is rigged

also did i tell y’all about the time i found out that i’m not as short as i thought? told u im fucking badass

how tall are you btw?

The Woes of the Witch of the Wastes (Howl's Moving Castle AU)

Gender Neutral Reader x Vil Schoenheit (+ Reader x Neige LeBlanche) Word Count: 7.3k

Summary: The Witch of the Wastes has long come to terms with the fact that to keep a hold on his powers and beauty, he is going to have to be every bit the terrible monster that everyone assumes him to be. And then one day he goes and curses some stupid little hatter and his entire world is turned on its head.

A/N: Based on this horrid, mind-melting, brain rot that has not left me alone in days

Vil Schoenheit was only a small child of nine when he was swept up by the Royal Sorcery Academy and told he would ‘accomplish great things indeed.’ Madame Suliman, the King’s Head Sorceress herself, patted him on his head and proclaimed him the brightest talent of his generation.

Vil Schoenheit was fifteen when he cured his first ‘incurable’ poison. And then created his own draught that could actually bother to live up to such a lofty title. The Palace gave him all sorts of fancy medals and when he stood there in the throne room, the Crow King nodded at him in approval. ‘Vil Schoenheit is certainly meant for great things,’ he said, just as everyone always had. Meant for it. Like Vil didn’t wear himself ragged training, and fretting, and putting every part of himself into his work until there was nothing left to give. But that was fine—because perhaps being ‘meant’ for something and improving yourself enough to be worthy of those things in the first place went hand in hand.

Vil Schoenheit was well into established adulthood when he turned down a very lovely, very traitorous, offer from a foreign enemy, and his loyalty landed him yet another set of medals and even more slant eyed looks of admiration. ‘The most gracious treasure in all the lands,’ they called him. ‘A beauty unrivaled in both grace and intelligence. Someone who was no doubt meant for only the best life had to offer.’ Vil stood at the center of the room, beneath the spotlight of an entire nation, and grinned white and sharp. His beloved mentor approached him from amongst the throngs of near worshippers crowding the halls. There was a wispy, young, man at her side. The poor thing looked terribly out of place in the upper crest gallantry of the Royal Capital. He was wearing all the wrong colors, all the wrong cuts of fabric. He looked soft, and earnest, and like someone who would be eaten alive by court politics before he’d even managed to squeak out his first greeting.   

“This is Neige LeBlanche,” Madame Suliman introduced, with a sort of sickly, sweet, fondness that had Vil’s stomach souring into something entirely unpleasant. “I’m sure you’ve heard of him—from that messy business at the Coast.” (The business he’d stopped, she meant? The conspirators he’d ousted?) “Such a natural talent,” she crooned. “He really is exceptional.”

“Of course I’ve heard of him,” Vil offered, polite. He turned then to Neige with a smile that showed perhaps a few too many teeth. “I’m sure you’ll do great things.”

Madame Suliman squeezed her new ward’s arm and Neige LeBlanche went as pink as freshy plucked Meadowsweet. Vil fought to keep from digging his fingers into the fine edges of his champagne flute. The very one he’d been offered to toast his own successes.

“No doubt he’s the brightest talent of his generation!” Madame Suliman beamed, and Vil grit his teeth through the dark, curling, spike of something that speared through his gut.

Vil Schoenheit was sitting in his own, personal armchair, in his own, personal lounge (all gifted to him for his own, personal achievements), when Madam Suliman walked into the room with that same, dainty, interloper on her arm. ‘Excellent news!’ she’d smiled, in that way that wasn’t ever really a smile. Neige LeBlanche—with his stumbling, bumbling, kindness that bordered on idiocy, and his myriad of unimpressive successes built on nothing but luck and happenstance—had been named her successor. By decree of his Majesty the King himself.

Naturally, Vil decided to… politely object the announcement. Which very rapidly descended into black swirls of poison eroding the palace grounds and calls for his execution.

And So Vil was chased out of the home that he’d built for himself—that had been promised to him. He hid himself in the Wastes until he’d regained enough of his shattered arcana to ensure he could at the very least survive an encounter with his pursuers, even if the outcome would be far from pretty.

There were Demons in the Wastes. Strange, ethereal, things that Vil had once been ordered to eradicate on sight. But now he was one of those miserable, undesirable, vermin too, wasn’t he? So why not consort with the beasts? A Demon of Envy sought him ought first, offering justice like it was a fruit ripe for the picking. Like anything could be that simple. Then came a Demon of Fire, and another of Poison. All weaving their honeyed words and bowing low as they begged to take something, anything, of the Grand Sorcerer for themselves.

So Vil traded away bits of himself piece by piece. A lock of his hair, the flesh from his forearm. His skin cracked and dripped with inky, dark, magics that swam through his veins and worked to replace all the parts he sold away. And wasn’t that so funny? That these Demons put a high enough value on his little odds and ends that he could probably sustain himself off their fancy for an eternity, and yet the people whose favor he’d courted so earnestly, so faithfully, for his whole life had been so willing to offload the entirety of him at the first opportunity.

Vil learned to hide his cracks with a harsh-edged, grandiose, layer of illusions. He learned to wipe away the tar and to stitch himself back together into something better. He grew so quickly and so strongly under these new patrons of his that soon enough the hunting parties disappeared altogether. No one was willing to go toe-to-toe with someone who could curse you to a literal death with nothing but a wave of his hand. The common people whispered his name under their breaths like a dark incantation.

‘The Witch of the Wastes,’ they called him, in panicked, hushed, undertones. They spread rumors of him feasting on the hearts of virgins and laying towns to ruin under the weight of his black magic. They talked of his power as if it was a thing to be afraid of, and most certainly it was.

‘Perhaps it is not so terrible to be feared,’ Vil mused to himself, the sharp, small, smile permanently affixed to his painted lips twitching at the corners. ‘If it means I’m also revered.’

And so the years passed in this fashion, with the country growing more and more wary of the icy beauty who’d made the Wastes his fortress. When the Royal Sorcery Academy reported an upset in their ranks, finally admitted that despite their star pupil, their outputs were floundering and their students lackluster, Vil watched with a righteous sort of glee. When Neige LeBlanche inevitably fled from Madame Suliman’s tutelage—publicly absconding into the night with nothing but the ill-suited clothes on his back—Vil laughed and laughed until the storms curling off his tongue had wiped out an entire harbor.

So he’d won, hadn’t he? Neige had been run off, the Academy was near ruin—Madame Suliman more so. But when rumors started to swirl of a powerful, ethereally lovely, mage who traversed the countryside in his slowly crawling, architectural nightmare of a castle, that bitter part of Vil reared its head with a vengeance. It wasn’t enough for the rat to come in and swipe his cushy, imperial, position out from under his nose, but now he was gunning to take the Witch’s mystique for himself too?! People were even saying Neige was the one eating hearts! Which was entirely unfair!

And then one horribly, ugly, sunny afternoon, Vil encountered his nemesis entirely by happenstance. Despite years of outright hunting the man, in spite of all his well-planned traps and schemes, Neige LeBlanche had only finally appeared before him by accident.  

There he was, waltzing through the open market air with some ridiculous little commoner clinging to his arm. Vil watched the pair with open disdain—that inky, awful, part of him raking its claws up his spine. Neige stepped through the sky like he was descending some grand, ballroom, staircase, and the startled look of half-terror, half-awe on his partner’s face didn’t do much to improve its complete lack of remarkability.

Something even more bitter twisted in The Witch’s gut at that. What was it with these pathetic, mediocre, untalented, pieces of garbage that had his cohort swarming to them like dogs after a choice cut of meat? It was disgusting. It was unfair.

That evening, spite drove The Witch to darken your doorstep. This was a small town, and it was hardly difficult to track down one, insignificant, little nobody. Especially when that ‘nobody’ still wreaked of a too potent, too bright, magic that Vil could scent like a shark to blood.

“What a tacky shop,” he hummed as he stood in the foyer of your modest store. “I’ve never seen such tacky, little, hats,” he continued, amethyst eyes slipping over your tight countenance. It was such a stupidly, boring, plain, face. His own expression twitched into something sour. “Yet you’re by far the tackiest thing here.”

You raised your chin at him, your upper lip going stiff in a bitten off frown.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” you demanded, making your back to the front entrance and pulling it open with a brisk, irritable, tug. “The door is this way, sir. We’re closed.”

Vil leaned forward with a sharp bark of laughter, and the lights overhead flickered into shadow. A trail of inky wetness slid from the corner of his lips, and the air seemed to grow heavy with it.

“Speaking like that to the Witch of Wastes,” he tutted, reaching up to swipe away the smudge of stinking, black, goo. “How quaint.”

“The Witch of the Wastes,” you echoed, eyes widening almost comically in horror as that awful, cloying, sludge swirled around you like a storm. It settled over your skin and seeped through your clothes. Vil could feel the heavy pull of the curse as it took hold. He plucked at the magic like it was string on a harp, and he could feel it thrum through your veins—settling itself in like a terrible plague. He could already see the affliction working away. Your skin began to droop and fold, your back hunching up under the sudden weight of years you’d never even lived.

So ugly, so ordinary, he thought bitterly. Whatever made you worth anyone’s attention, it certainly isn’t there anymore.

“The best part of this spell is that you’ll never even be able to tell anyone else about it,” he chirped, entirely unpleasant, and glided out the door in a whirl of purple smoke. “Give Neige my regards.”

Vil didn’t see you or your wrinkled frown again for weeks, though the fact that you were alive still at all to cross paths with him in the first place was a bit of a surprise.

You were perusing the markets of a small fishing town with a little, grumpy, old man at your side. The tiny thing was clearly cloaked in some low-level illusion spell, with a staticky, lilac, beard that swallowed his head whole and puffed-up brows that seemed to weigh down his entire face like a tangible thing.

“Hrmf. I hate potatoes,” the boy masquerading as a retiree complained.

“Pay up,” you chirped, lining at least a dozen along the bottom of your wicker basket. You didn’t look quite as old as you should have—more of a ‘gracefully aging into your twilight years’ than the ancient, broken, hag you were meant to be. There were always caveats to curses. By their very nature, they were built to one day break. Finding the key to that lock, however, was meant to be the crux of the problem. And if one was keeping with that whole metaphor, Vil’s curses were very hard to pick. Had you managed to find something? Impossible. He was sure he’d battened the magic down as tight as it could go.

Vil watched you move about through the slitted eyes of one of his inky, purple, henchmen. If you were here, did that mean you’d managed to find refuge despite the curse he’d inflicted upon you? Or perhaps—his eyes narrowed—you’d been found. Shadows slithered out like grasping claws, and he could taste the burst of too bright, too wild, magic on his tongue. Neige.

You walked towards a fisher’s stall, cane clicking along the cobblestone. And despite his earlier grumblings, your little shadow snatched the basket from your hands and followed diligently at your heels.

“Hrmf. I hate fish,” it grumped from behind the mouthful of purple poof. And then held the woven basket up again when you went to lay a wrapped salmon amongst your other purchases.

“Epel, you’ll never get any taller if you don’t eat something better than bread,” you chastised, like the grandparent you were.

“I don’t need to get taller!” your companion hissed. “I can beat up everyone from down here just fine!”

You laughed, and it sounded young. The crinkles at the corner of your eyes deepened with mirth rather than manufactured years, and when you smiled some of the harsher lines of age vanished altogether.

“Of course you can, you little ankle biter.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Vil frowned sourly, but before he could do anything further, there was a commotion in the harbor. The King’s most recent war had clawed its way to even these outskirts it would seem. You and your little shadow disappeared in the chaos, but Vil was too distracted by the fluttering storm of recruitment fliers that followed to care.

‘All Able-Bodied Witches and Wizards Are To Report to the King’ they read. All of them.

And when The Witch of the Waste received his own, personal, invitation with Suliman’s signature sitting curled and elegant at the bottom, he couldn’t help the spike of private satisfaction that wormed through his veins. The parts of him crying ‘trap!’ were silenced by the much larger, much more smug, swirls of contentment settling heavy alongside his blackened heart. Of course they wanted him now—to clean up the mess that he certainly could have prevented entirely in the first place. Of course they’d come crawling back. Of course they’d finally realized just how much they needed him.

Running into you yet again as he made his way to the palace felt like more than a coincidence, but Vil brushed it off with a sneer. As if you were actually important enough for your presence to mean anything. Bah.

“Why, if it isn’t that tacky little creature from the hat shop,” he drawled as you walked alongside his intricate, feathered, carriage. There was a gangly, black, crow perched at your shoulder, and it glared at him with beady eyes. Vil curled his lip at the thing and it fluffed up like a startled cat. “What business does someone as poorly connected as you have here at the palace?”

“Job hunting,” you scowled, and the crow squawked like a protest. “And what about you? I didn’t think the Royal Guard would be prone to welcoming someone as reviled as the Witch of the Wastes into their ranks.”

Despite all that vicious scowling, somehow you looked younger still than the last time he’d seen you. Something small and bitter unfurled in Vil’s gut. Even some lackluster, magicless, commoner was breaking through his incantations now. He shook his head to clear the heavy, cold, press of inadequacy and tilted his chin back to preen.

“After all this time, the idiots running the palace have finally realized how much use they can find in my abilities,” he huffed, lips curled in satisfaction. You went quiet, and watched him with an odd sort of look in your eye.

“If you’re so great and powerful, you could always get rid of the spell you put on me,” you offered, like that was any sort of incentive at all. And like you’d only even asked to keep yourself from saying something else entirely.

“Apologies, darling. But my talents lie in casting curses, not breaking them,” he crooned, entirely unsympathetic. And you didn’t even blink at his prodding. Vil let the curtain fall back over the small window of his carriage with a wave of his elegantly manicured hand. “Enjoy the arthritis.”

His carriage carried on as you shouted after him—waving your cane and threatening to beat him black and blue.

“If I didn’t have to worry about you being here I would have clobbered him,” you grumped at the little, decrepit, crow shuffling along your arm. It rattled its wings at you and you almost swatted the thing, before letting it teeter its way up back onto your shoulder with another frustrated sigh.

The Witch of the Wastes had only just crossed through the great, gleaming, gates of the Imperial Palace when his elaborate, peacock, carriage fell to bits—crumbling under the weight of talismans nearly as ancient as the fortress itself.

“What’s the meaning of this?” he snarled, and the guards assessed him like he was no better than anyone else who came stumbling through these gates. Like he hadn’t spent the better part of his life trapped within these very walls. And like he wasn’t here now, all these years later, on a personal invitation.

“Apologies, sir!” one barked. “Vehicles are prohibited beyond this point!”

A sharp and sudden crack rocked through Vil at his core, and the panic that followed was acute and near painful. Whatever these wards were, they weren’t just suppressing the magics he used for his carriage. This was… This…

But, no. He’d been invited. And powers dampened or otherwise, he would hold himself together until he could make his way through those grand doors.

Climbing the first few stairs felt like coming home, felt like pride. And then the Witch reached the fourth, stone, step and the elaborately crafted heel of his boot snapped like a toothpick—the magic sucked away like water being taken in by a sponge. He nearly stumbled over, and only just managed to catch himself without falling outright.

There was a surprised sort of gasp from behind him, and he whipped around with a snarl to see you standing at the base of the same stairs—eyes locked on his faltering steps with obvious confusion. Vil curled his lip at you in a silent challenge and you shook yourself out of whatever funk had settled over your brain. Then you too began the trek upwards, your cane clicking against the stone as your went.

The next splinter that worked its way through him was outright agonizing, and with no small amount of distress did Vil realize he was leaking. There was a sharp, thin, crack running from his temple to his jaw, and the burbling, black, goo welled up beneath it like blood to a wound. It dripped against the stone with an awful, thick sounding, plap. Thankfully this time, you had the self-preservation not to go making any confused noises at his situation, but your stare was a heavy weight on his back nonetheless.

Another crack appeared along his collarbone, and he could feel the endless layers of elaborately crafted, gem-toned, cloaks grow wet with the miasma slipping down his skin. He could feel a creaking, groaning, misery building along his joints—like a doll that was being slowly pulled apart at the seams. The Witch barely bit back a gasp when the delicate fabrics along his sides split against his cracklings ribs, and then you finally did grumble at him again.

“Why don’t you just give up?” you asked, shaking your head. Vil’s lips (or whatever remained of them at this point) curled up over his canines in a snarl. And while the words themselves dug at him in a way that was too personal for someone as ignorant as you to be fully aware of the bite of them, you didn’t look… mean about it. Your brows were tucked up, like it was a genuine inquiry—like you were concerned. Either way, he sneered up at you and you frowned harder, before offering a bewildered, “You’re killing yourself.”

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited?” He spat. “Fifty years. Ever since Suliman—” he rasped, a spasm of sharp pain ripping through his hide like claws, “—banished me to the Wastes.”

You stared at his miserable, dripping, form for a long moment before you huffed and turned to continue your climb. “Too bad I’m not younger, then. I could have lent you a hand.”

Vil snarled and it bubbled up like tar. He felt a trail of it burst along his chin. “Next time I’ll turn you senile too.”

You laughed at that, and the bird on your shoulder squawked when your giggling jostled it around.

“I’ll hold you to it,” you smiled, and turned to keep making your way up towards the grand, gold, doors.  

You’d passed him by now—with your wrinkled, old, legs and withered muscles. Even with that ugly crow cawing and rattling around at your collar like the world’s most obnoxious scarf, you still managed to hobble your way to the top of the stairs before Vil had even reached the halfway point.

“Almost there!” you mocked, waving your hand at him.

But when he continued to struggle, you turned to one of the guards at your rear with a tight little frown.

“You should go help him,” you said, with just enough gentle fussing that you certainly must have been genuine, and Vil wondered deliriously for a moment if his ears really had melted off his head. When the guard spouted off some nonsense about ‘strict prohibitions’ and ‘court etiquette,’ you snorted and turned back to face Vil and his slushing, inky, mess with a tight thunk of your cane. “That’s ridiculous! The King himself invited him!”

When all those blank faced soldiers still refused to move, you offered Vil a little cheer that he hoped broke your stupid, elderly, knees.

“Come on, then!” you called after him, with another weird, wide, gesture. Though this one was far less antagonistic. “You can do it! Let’s go! Are you a Witch, or aren’t you, huh?”

“Shut up,” Vil seethed as he finally clawed his way to the top of the steps.

You didn’t reach down to pull him to his feet. He wouldn’t have let you do it even if you had, but you watched him with a grumpy sort of concern that had him feeling prickly in indignation. Who were you to pity him?

“Pull yourself together,” you ordered after a long moment of trailing at his heel like a skittish dog, and like he wasn’t literally being held together with the magical equivalent of some tape and a bungy cord. “Isn’t this what you’ve been waiting for, hmm?”

The pain was terrible. Horrible. So sharp and miserable that Vil couldn’t even will a corresponding insult into his thoughts, let alone past his panting lips. You stared down at his hunched form with a tight sort of concern, and with that same stiff lipped not-frown that you’d been wearing the night he’d swept into your store and torn the youth straight from your bones.

You stayed at his side for the entire walk through the corridor, which meant you must have purposely slowed yourself to match his lagging stride. And when he began to sway beneath the weight of some heinous, creaking, mass of shadows, you dipped just close enough into his space that he was left leaning against you in a decision that was most certainly not of his own accord.

Soon enough though you were shuffled off into a separate room—the crow honking on your shoulder like some old, awful, squeaky toy. The cavernous hall Vil was led to was familiar, and instantly all those silenced rationalities about this being a trap came crawling out from where he’d so furiously buried them.

They bound him into a grand chair that was a mockery of a throne. Lights danced across the room, their high-pitched drone scraping through his ears and melting whatever remained of his panicked, terrible, thoughts to mush. He could see the shadowed outlines of all the Demons he’d contacted over the years—all their thin, pale, bodies twining around him in a macabre sort of dance. They locked hands and he watched his own split beneath the weight of beastly talons. He felt the remainders of his magic as it was stripped away layer by layer, leaving him bare, and hideous, and every bit the monster he’d tried so hard to hide behind crafted perfection for so many years.

When he was wheeled into the Gardens after they’d taken everything from him all over again, he felt like the main attraction in a freakshow being put up on display. The world was spinning, and whirling, and nothing would stay still. Suliman’s shadows stretched throughout the glass dome like an insect crawling through the muck. And you were there. Looking… younger again, somehow. Bright, and alive. And when your youthful gaze landed on him it filled with fire.

“Once he too was a magnificent sorcerer,” Madam Suliman sighed, speaking about her long-lost protégée with the same sort of emotional investment as someone lamenting over a spilled cup of coffee or a wasted coupon. “So much promise. He could have done such great things…”

The words stung nearly as terribly as the wounds spanning the whole of him. But before they could seep in further and tear out whatever living bits remained of him, you bolted up from your chair so quickly that you sent the thing toppling over. And then you were moving to stand between the monster and his maker, squaring your stance as if to guard him. Like you intended to protect this awful, wretched, melting, creature—

“You’re insane! I get why Neige was so afraid to come back here!” you barked. “It’s all a trap! You lure people in with promises and false invitations, and then strip them of all their powers!”

The rest of the encounter was a bit of a blur—colored by nothing but the pain and shame mulling Vil’s senses into nothing but a perpetual curtain of static. There was someone else there eventually. Neige, he would guess, by the way Suliman was puffing up and throwing her magic around. And my, was there a lot of magic. Cold, tactical, enchantments that wore away even at his already shredded senses. You were shouting something, and he could feel your hands grasping at what were once his shoulders. And then the lot of you were flying away—higher and higher into the sky until Vil was too dizzy to tell up from down.

The pain and exhaustion took him eventually. He wasn’t entirely sure what had happened—only that when he blinked back into consciousness, he was collapsed atop a heap of rubble and there was a little, blue, fire demon yowling in his face. When he woke up again (slightly more coherent this time), he realized he was in a room. A swaying, creaking, room. And ah, this must have been that Moving Castle he’d heard so much about.

You were seated across from him, looking a bit worse for wear, but when you noticed his eyes slide open you were immediately lurching to your feet rambling about bandages, and antiseptic, and ‘gods I need to get some food into you before you wither away.’

When you sat back at his side with a little first aid kit and reached for one of his battered, twisting, limbs, Vil snarled at you with a noise that was so inhuman he almost managed to startle himself in the process. The cracks along his skin pulsed unpleasantly, and the smell of ash and muck filled the air. You stared him down firmly for a few more moments before sighing and moving to stand back on your feet. You didn’t take your kit with you, just slid it a few inches closer before taking your leave.

When you returned a few minutes later, you were balancing a plate full of toast and toppings. You sat yourself down once again and went about buttering a thick, fluffy looking slice of bread. Once that was made up to your liking, you reached over to set a little pot of jam off to the side with a teaspoon sticking out of it like a flag post. When Vil made no move to partake in your offering, you stared at the Witch and the hulking, twisting, mass of shadows that made up the entirety of him. Then you stood back up with a hum and returned a moment later with a sturdy looking mug. You filled it about halfway with a ladle of light, herby, smelling broth.

“This might be easier to get down,” you said, but it mostly sounded like you were muttering to yourself.

He glared at the cup bitterly. His fingers—claws now—flexed against the table where you’d set his meals, and they left deep, crackling, gauges in the wood. You stared him down rigidly and after a long moment where you very nearly started tapping your foot at him, he reached out with his clunky, mucky, talons and scooped the mug into his hands. When he took a tentative sip, you beamed—all that petulant frowning melting into something outright indulgent. You immediately went doddering about to fetch him a bit more.

“Stop feeding it!” the fire shrieked. “You’re wasting perfectly good food!”

“That I could be giving to you, you mean,” you chastised, topping up the mug with more of that thin, warm, broth.

“He’s evil!” the fire squawked at your accusations but very obviously did not deny them, perfectly indignant. “And have you forgotten about the you know what that’s got you stuck looking like a you know who!”

You waved off the little Demon with a shrug. “Oh, he’s alright.”

“He is not!” the fire wailed.

“He’s just as cursed as the rest of us,” you said, with a note of stern finality to your voice.

With that, there was a great clatter at the stairs, and a horribly familiar face clamored down to join the rest of you.

Neige LeBlanche had grown into his awkward warmth, Vil would give him that at least. He wore those same loose-fitting pastels and billowing jackets like they were things of comfort, something carefree. His dark hair had grown out a bit shaggy, but it still sat in that same choppy, artfully mused, style atop his head. Like a fluffy, ebony, halo. There was a youthfulness to those bright, brown, eyes that would probably never fade, but at least he looked a bit more like a person now, and less of an over manicured doll sitting at Suliman’s beck and call.

“The Witch of the Wastes at my breakfast table?” the Wizard mused, not without kindness. The teasing tone had Vil grinding his molars. “Whatever possessed you to let him into my house, Grim?”

“I didn’t let him in!” the demon yowled. “Your stupid hatter crash landed a plane into my face!”

Neige burst into peels of delighted laughter and clapped a gentle hand against your shoulder. “I knew you’d make a great pilot!”

A few of the wrinkles around your brow vanished when you scoffed, your lips curling into a smile even as you rolled your eyes.

“Your wall has a new hole in it that would beg to differ.”

“Excuse me!” the fire wailed. “But are we just going to ignore the fact that the Witch of the Wastes is sitting in our kitchen! Looking like he just crawled out of the pits of Hell!”

“He’s my guest,” you said after a moment, face pinched up again like you were trying to look stern. You turned a pointed frown on Neige and squared your shoulders. “You said I should treat the Castle like it was my home, too.”

“I did,” the brunette beamed, looking positively giddy. About what, Vil didn’t even want to consider. Whatever awful, sentimental, drivel was woven into your declaration was none of his business.

“…I guess we can’t just kick him out,” the purple haired boy grouched after a moment, stabbing at his porridge.

“Yes! Yes we can!” Grim shrieked, and you made a motion like you were threatening to upend a cup of water all over him.

“Nonsense,” Neige chirped, brown eyes melting into something warm and gooey. “If my dearest friend trusts him, then so do I!”

Dearest friend, Vil wanted to scoff. Please. As if the affection bubbling up and out of him was in anyway platonic.

Not long after, Neige darted off with a promise that he was ‘preparing something special!’ You nodded at his enthusiasm as he swooped off through his magical Portal Door, and then turned back to Vil with that same stiff lipped determination you were so prone to.

You showed him to a little room off to the side of the main parlor and dubbed it his. You lowered the curtains to dull the sharp brightness of the afternoon into something more tolerable, and brought in extra blankets when the Castle walked through a chilly valley. Even though Vil sat through your fussing in obstinate silence, you still chattered at him every time you stopped in. You carried in trays of delicate, bland, snacks that would be easy on his stomach. When he refused to touch them, you brought more of that broth instead. You puttered about cleaning the inky miasma that pooled on the floor beneath his feet, and only silently offered him a fresh handkerchief and cup of water when the tar built up so thickly on his tongue that he couldn’t even manage to swallow it. When you caught his glare resting on the intricate mirror hung on the wall opposite his new bed, you rolled up your sleeves and bodily yanked the thing off its frame.  

“Is there something I should call you?” you asked, maybe a week into this new situation of his.

When he didn’t answer, you just hummed under your breath, considering.

“It just seems like—well, you mentioned that you were banished to the Wastes,” you mused. “So I can’t imagine you really enjoying being called their master.” You smiled a little crookedly, something teasing sparking in your eyes. “I know I wouldn’t like to go around with people calling me The Ruler of Retirement Homes, or whatever.”

“I am what I am,” he managed to croak after a moment, and didn’t even let himself feel too pathetic over how utterly miserable and inhuman he sounded.

“You’re whoever you want to be,” you replied with a shrug. “You can be a Witch if you like. I just figured I’d ask.”

You’d finished up your cleaning and were on your way out the door when he spoke up again.

“Vil,” he sighed, so quiet he wasn’t even sure you’d be able to hear him at all. But you stopped at the threshold and turned to look back at him with your head canted to the side—like a curious, little dog.

“Vil,” you repeated with a nod, and something entirely foreign cracked through his chest. For a moment he was worried that somehow there had been a part of him yet left unbroken, and that now he’d lost even that. But… This was a different sort of ache. Even if it was no less worrying.

Each day after that you greeted him with a cheery ‘Good morning, Vil!’ and brought him his evening herbal teas with a gentle ‘Goodnight, Vil.’ It was the first time in more than half a century that he’d heard his name spoken aloud. Sometimes he’d even wondered if he’d managed to forget the sound of it entirely. But here you were—some silly, little, hatter rattling it off like it was something easy, something palatable.

Then one day you came to visit him smelling like flowers, your brow scrunched in obvious unease.

“You’re certainly looking your age this afternoon,” Vil huffed at you, and the corner of your lips only just barely quirked in amusement before falling flat all over again.

You stared out the window with an absent sort of expression on your face. Distant.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, hoping he sounded more sour and put upon than he probably did. A trail of dark, wet, muck slid down his cheek to land on the floor with a heavy plap and you moved to his side to wipe it up.

“…Sometimes I just get this feeling that all this is likely to change at any moment,” you said finally, quiet. “That even though I’ve worked so hard to make a place for myself—to be happy here—that it could all just…”

Something painfully familiar curdled in Vil’s gut. The hot sting of failure, the bitter inadequacies that had dogged his steps his entire life. He reached out to lightly thwack you across the back of the head with one of his too-long, clawed, hands. A couple of drops of inky magic splattered along your cheek and you frowned at him petulantly. Good. Pouting was better than whatever that miserable look had been.

“Get over yourself,” he huffed. It rattled oddly in his wrecked throat, like something animalistic. “You think you’re special enough that the whiles of the Universe would seek out your sad, little, life to ruin? Please.”

You spluttered at him indignantly for a moment before that irritable puffing melted into hiccups, and then finally laughter. You laughed into your palm like a secret, and something in Vil’s chest eased that he hadn’t even realized needed easing to begin with.  

“Of course, Vil,” you beamed. “How silly of me. Thank you for reminding me how meaningless I am. It makes all the difference.”

He sniffed, putting on as much an of an air of irritability as he could manage.

“As if that was for your benefit,” he argued pointlessly. “There’s only enough mops in this place to allow for one person to be leaking unmentionables all over the floors at a time. The last thing this poor, hideous, Castle needs is to be stained with your tears on top of it all.”

“That would be quite the inconvenience,” you agreed, warm.

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, almost nervous. And then you ducked forward quickly to wrap yourself around him in a hug that was more a desperate sort of clutching than anything else. It was tight and small, and with all the cracks and holes in him, it was certainly far from enjoyable. There wasn’t even enough time for those grotesque talons of his to tuck around you in return. Not that he would have! It just—it was only an observation! You’d just… darted in and out. Like that tiny crutch of affection was all you dared take. Nevertheless, that same, strange, thing in Vil’s chest yawned open all over again. Even though his body was literally splintering into bits and his throat was always bubbling over with the horrible consequence of selling himself away, this was the first time he’d really felt like he was drowning.

“Thank you, Vil,” you said again, softer than he’d ever heard you, before slipping back out the door.

When the War he’d been summoned to help the Crown fight finally made its way to their doorstep, Vil was unsurprised when Neige rushed forward to clutch at your hands and urge you to safety.

“I’m tired of running,” the Wizard said, pale fingers twisting with the telltale shadows of magic overuse. “Especially now that I have something worth fighting for.”

And oh, Vil realized with startling clarity as bombs dropped around their strange, walking, home and smoke filtered through the air. That was it, wasn’t it? The key to the curse he’d so thoughtlessly bestowed upon you.

‘Who could love such a retched, ugly, thing?’ he’d thought.

But they had—they all loved you. The fire demon that cooed for your attentions and the little boy that curled into the fringes of your cloak like it was his favorite blanket. And Neige, with his open doting and the soft heart he wore on his gaudy sleeves. All that love had slowly worn away the dark ailment he’d cast upon you, like water beating down the jagged edges of a stone.

You were shouting something at the little fire demon, and then the Castle was groaning and heaving like a dying beast. It felt like the world was collapsing in on itself, but with the swirling weight of his musings curling through his thoughts like the headiest of drugs, he couldn’t really find it in himself to care. Even when the ceiling crumbled on top of him, nearly burying him alive, it was hard to focus on much else beside the horrified look in your eyes as you stared after him with your youthful, lovely, face.

But why now? He wondered a bit blearily, as you kicked through the wreckage of the Moving Castle to crouch at his side. You prodded at the gashes on his cheeks like he could still bleed, like the little wounds he’d collected meant anything in the grand scheme of all his aches and miseries. Why now when all these poor fools had clearly already cared for you for so, very, long?

“It’s going to be okay, Vil!” you smiled at him, a bit teary, and helped him to his feet. “I promise!”

And as those last dregs of black magic were washed from your features—when those thin, lingering, lines faded back into the sharp determination of youth, and all that remained of your ailment was a shock of silver lightening your hair—he had another, horrible, moment to think oh.

No wonder it’d broken.

Because how could it not? When he loved you too.

By the time you managed to dig them all out of the shattered remains of the Castle, Vil couldn’t help but wonder if maybe Neige had gone and died. If that’s why you’d come into his room the other day, sniffling about change and happiness. If you’d known he was about to sacrifice himself so that his little, hobbled-together, family would be able to survive the upcoming trials at least somewhat intact.

There was a lump sprawled out across your lap that didn’t look entirely human—blot ridden and blood soaked. And maybe… With the way you were staring down at it with a trembling mouth and misty eyes, surely that had to be him. Surely that was—that was it then. It was over. But then the little fire demon was swirling up and around, jumping about in a wave of blue sparks and spouting nonsense about returning his master’s heart.

With a final indignant yowl, Grim curled over the empty cavity beneath Neige’s collar and vanished in a gentle roll of sapphire flames. There was a burst of sparks, a bout of excited, feline, trilling, and then Neige LeBlanche was jolting up with a gasp.

“Ack,” the Wizard groaned, immediately falling backwards with a wince. “It—Ouch. It feels like there’s a weight in my chest.”

“Of course there is,” you laughed, scrubbing away the relieved tears that were brimming along your lash line.

Your soft, warm, gaze traveled fondly along the wizard sprawled out in your lap, then to the little, lavender, boy and the ancient crow perched atop his shoulder. And finally it settled on Vil—a heavy, tangible, weight that he could feel all along his spine.

“A heart’s a heavy burden,” you said, soft.

And Vil, who had spent the better part of his life breaking his own into splintered shards to barter away to whoever would take it, couldn’t help but agree.

.

.

please give me all your love

「riddle rosehearts, lilia vanrouge, vil schoenheit x gn!reader」 ↳ in which you accidentally drink a love potion and fall for the one who's always harbored unrequited feelings for you. cw: angst, suggestive themes (all)

[riddle rosehearts]

You two were childhood friends and Riddle’s been in love with you ever since he could remember; it was ironic, truly, that after consuming a love potion, he was the first person you sought out. Trusting in his judgment to know what to do under these circumstances. Didn't you know that the potion would make you fall for him? How could you be so utterly reckless?

Everyone at Heartslabyul already knew of the Housewarden's surreptitious soft-spot for you in spite of his objections to it. You always obeyed the rules, following them to the best of your ability—even when you were frustrated with them, all because, "I like the Queen of Hearts, too♪".

But Riddle's feelings blossomed much sooner than that. When you'd write him letters under the guise of educational tips with a secret code hidden inside so that his mother wouldn't be overly suspicious. When you'd taken him gently by the hand, holding onto him with such strength, as if you were afraid he'd slip from your fingers, and told him, "I like being your friend, Riddle. You're super smart, and you always let me be myself! You're the only one who can do that for me!".

Which is why it hurt when he felt your arms wrap around him, hands lingering around his waist in an intimate way you'd never do with a friend. Words of praise and adulation left your mouth, dripping like a sickening honey. "I love you, Riddle. You're so cute when you blush⋯ Hey, we've been together all this time, we should stay together forever⋯"

“[Name], d-don’t kiss there; that’s inappropriate⋯!”

With your body pressed tautly against his back as his arms carried you back to your dorm, Riddle felt your lips press quick, feverish kisses along the nape of his neck; the sensation evoking goosebumps to cascade across his sensitive skin as frissons of heat rippled down the column of his spine.

The dulcet sound of your sweet, breathless giggles filled his ears as you suppressed the compulsion to smother his skin in your kisses. And Riddle couldn’t help but recollect the copious times as kids he was left to your whims, incapable of doing anything but following along.

“We’re not children anymore, if it’s carrying you like this, I can handle it,” Riddle retorted curtly. It was frustrating when you refused to listen to his scoldings, especially in this situation where your mind was rapt with fabricated affection. “⋯ Hah, they’re not listening anymore.”

Riddle entered within your room, setting you down onto the bed with the utmost caution. Left in his care, you were peering up at him with pleading, dewy eyes; and he heaved a sigh in response. “You’ll kick up a fuss if I leave, so I’ll stay. But you’re not to leave the room until the potion wears off, got it?”

As you nodded your head, Riddle went to whirl around on his heel and head over to your desk when you abruptly entwined your arms around his neck and tugged him down—your lips meeting his. “Mmph! [Name], what are you⋯?!” Riddle breathed out, tinctures of desperation and panic heady in his voice, before he felt you press another kiss against him.

You pulled him into you further, allowing his weight to descend overtop of you as you hopelessly deepened the kiss. Deeper, deeper; you pressed him into you despite his protests.

“——You’re a cruel person, [Name]! Do you even know how much I love⋯” Cutting himself off tersely, Riddle seized your shoulders and pushed you back away from him as he swiftly stood up.

Vexation was acrid on Riddle’s tongue as he was maddened with your naivety, your thoughtlessness, and he gritted his teeth together and snapped at you, “Stay in bed. If you come any closer to me, it’s off with your head, you understand right?”

The feel of your lips sunk into his rapid pulse, permeating a warmth that ached—but the thought of experiencing it again was nothing more than an unimaginable wonderland.

[lilia vanrouge]

Lilia never expected you to return his love—he truly felt content in how your relationship currently was; doting on you whenever you were overburdened by the bits and pieces of life’s difficulties and were in need of a little spoiling⋯ in need of him and the advice he can offer.

That's why, when Lilia had heard you’d drinken a love potion, he was quick to be at your side. He couldn’t let anyone take advantage of you, could he? He always, perpetually, looked after you! As soon as he questioned how you were doing, he found you suddenly clinging on him; and that’s when he realized what was going on. The love potion had made you fall in love with him.

"Lilia-san, my chest hurts. It's overflowing because of you!" The darling words spilled from your lips as you enveloped him in your arms, taking hold of him like he was your everything.

Soothing hands cascaded through your hair, ameliorating your fear towards the inundation of new feelings. Lilia was here, as he always was, soothing you; taking care of you.

“You’re eager, little one. But you shouldn’t be doing this,” Lilia’s low, modulated voice whispered against your ear with an almost teasing lilt as you squirmed in his lap; yearning for his hands on you. “⋯ Why? Because this isn’t how you truly feel. It’s just the effects of the potion you drank.”

Lilia’s lithe fingers brushed away strands of your hair from sticking to your face, luxuriating in how your body flushed from his simple, yet loving, actions. You were too adorable like this, pliable and receptive to his every movement in a way he’d never seen from you before.

Rubbing your cheek against his, you smoothed your hand over his chest and tapped the tips of your fingers along with the beat of his heart; his heart that thumped and thumped in its socket, thrumming warmth along his body.

“Fine, just a little. I’ll give you some love♪”

Planting feathery kisses into the crook of your neck, Lilia placed a hand on your back as he massaged languid, affectionate circles into you. He could feel your body begin to tremble as a smile curved on your lips, reveling in how he was finally showering you in his love.

Lilia never considered himself a selfish person—he always took your feelings into consideration when he interacted with you, keeping you at arm’s length with his scares and equally inane pranks.

But as he held you, he felt a greedy vine slither between and around his ribcage; encasing his heart with thorns that perforated his resolve, letting his forbidden devotion leak out. The desperate, unending need to have you be his in a way unlike before.

“Are you satisfied yet?” Lilia asked softly as he removed his lips from your neck, your supple skin that shimmered from the saliva left behind. A slow, deep corruption until the potion wears off and you can never return. “No? My my, you’re almost as greedy as me, little one.”

[vil schoenheit]

At first, Vil was furious with you—how could you be so ignorant and stupid as to drink a potion without knowing what it’ll do to you? That was⋯ until the person whose affections you were sworn to have was him.

Hearts rose from the depths of your eyes, illuminating your innocence. You followed him everywhere, desperate for just a glimpse at the man who swallowed your mind whole. "Vil-san, you're perfect. You’re all I can see and feel."

Vil had always knew you didn’t love him in the way he loved you. Yet, still, he was persistent in attaining your love. One day, you’d be his; and he’d never give up on it. The graceful and talented one who wove him the finest outfits with all your skills and devotion. The one who sits through lectures and lessons out of reverence in order to cultivate your knowledge on fashion and beauty. Never cutting any corners.

He’ll “eat” up the you who’s drowning in forbidden love for him and melt it into reality, make it come true; as if the effects of the love potion were simply your feelings since the start.

A silky, lustrous mouth sucked on your ear, leaving a thin trail of saliva connecting your sensible lobe to his painted lips. In each teardrop clinging to your lashes, Vil could see your need for him—and it only exacerbated the unabating longing in his chest.

Vil’s slender finger traced along your jawline, tilting your head upwards to gaze upon his impassioned countenance. “Simply perfect. With your lips trembling, breaths thickening⋯ you’re like a ripe fruit. It’s divine,” he praised you, haughty and amorous. “No matter how embarrassing it is, this is who you are.”

Being the one to bring you such heights of beauty and pleasure, Vil was beyond pleased with your quivering body laid beneath him on his bed. His hands moved across your body with such a precision of ardency, it was ethereal. It made you feel hot, needy.

Vil brought his lips down to your exposed collarbone, nibbling at the skin; a sweet scent rose from your heated flesh, letting him suck on the honey-like essence. “Look over there, my doll, in that mirror,” he instructed you, nails digging into your thigh as you obediently did as you were told.

However, upon seeing the silhouette of your own body shaking from your gratification, you squeezed your eyes shut. “Hey, don’t look away. This is what you wanted, right? To receive all my love like this⋯ am I wrong?” A wicked laugh bubbled on his lips, his lips that were still pressed against your clavicle, and the motion magnified his kisses.

Now that he’s gotten a taste, Vil would stop at nothing to continue to devour you—he wanted this sight of you all to himself a little longer. Even if all that reflected in your glossy eyes were nothing more than a sweet lie.

“The ‘you’ who doesn’t hold back in your desires is the most beautiful of them all.”

Pride and Prejudice: A TWSTed AU

The Schemer of the Scalding Sands: J. Viper

Introduction, or pick another route!

Warnings: Najma and Kalim are wingmen, Jamil insults you Darcy-style (he doesn’t mean it <3 ), P&P-level angst, descriptions of being extremely high in the air (magic carpet ride <3 )

Notes: ngl i became a jamil stan while writing this fic

———

Kalim was being quiet, Jamil thought as he glanced at the clock. Too quiet.

It was late evening, and usually around this time Kalim would be knocking on Jamil’s dorm room asking for him to cook something. Or for homework help. Or to plan a party. Or all three, plus something else. Usually, Jamil couldn’t go more than half an hour without Kalim coming around, but this evening had been oddly peaceful, so something had to be afoot.

He pushed away from his desk and headed down the hall to the dorm leader’s room, pressing an ear against his door. Good, he’s in the room. Judging by Kalim’s voice, he wasn’t in immediate danger. Good, good. Still, he should just make sure. He rapped his knuckles against the door and walked in without waiting, “Kalim, I came to check-“

He stopped in shock, eyes widening and a frown forming. Kalim was on his stomach on his bed video chatting with someone on his phone, legs kicking in the air cheerfully. That was all fine, except-

“Najma?!” Jamil screeched, diving to Kalim to get a better look. “Why are you calling Kalim?!”

“Dude, calm down,” Najma deadpanned. Kalim grinned, “yeah, it’s all fine Jamil! We were just talking about you actually-“

“What?!” Jamil wrenched the phone from Kalim, and dodged his hands. “Najma! You should be doing your homework not talking to Kalim-“

“Jamil can you relax?” Najma drawled, leaning back on her bed. “I just called Kalim to see if you were actually doing your job.” Not really, it was to make sure Jamil wasn’t overstressing himself. Clearly he was. She suddenly smirked, and changed the topic. “Kalim said you were close to that (name) person you brought to the Yasamina Silk festival. They seemed cool, but now they seem great.”

Jamil was indignant. “Don’t listen to him Najma. And Kalim! You-!” Jamil turned to glare at him, then immediately calmed his voice and face. “You should eat something, it’s getting late.” Kalim’s eyes widened and he looked at the time, “you’re right! We should see if the rest of the dorm is hungry too! We could all have dinner together!” He dashed out of the room without waiting for Jamil, who sighed and turned back to Kalim’s phone. “I’d better go after him, take care of yourself, Najma.” “Okay, bye~”

Najma sighed and slumped against her bed. Jamil seems to really like this (name), and they seemed pretty nice when we met. Not to mention, Jamil seemed happy they were there… it’d be nice for him to loosen up too. In the very few times he’d spoken about you to her, he seemed… almost cheerful. Very unlike the high-strung, perfectionist brother she knew. Even though Jamil was still her older brother, she still worried about him a little bit. It’d be nice if he had someone to loosen him up, who he genuinely liked.

She thought back to the festival, where you and Jamil shared a melon with one another. Sure, you may have not known that one Scalding Sands legend, where if you shared that melon with someone, your friendship (or romance!) would last forever. Or maybe you did know.

Either way, she knew her brother well enough that he wouldn’t slip up with splitting the melon like that. He may not believe in superstition, but a Scalding Sands legend was still a legend.

She thought for a bit, and then smirked and picked up her phone. Oh yeah. It’s all coming together. She just needed to get Kalim on board now.

———

Jamil was staring at you again.

It was out of the corner of his eye, and he kept looking away, but you just knew. Because he’d been doing it for the past few months, ever since the Scalding Sands event you’d crashed with Grim.

Granted, you were surprised he even let you go with him and Kalim, given how annoyed he looked at the extra guests (between you two, Trey, Cater, and Malleus, it was an unforgettable trip indeed). And you and Jamil sort of reached a… truce, of sorts, after his overblot.

You didn’t know how you felt ever since he’d basically imprisoned you and Grim in Scarabia, and all the things he’d said about you. Sure, after all of that went down, you were pissed and a little hurt. You’d thought that you’d made a friend in a new dorm, (two, counting Kalim, who really was your friend) but instead he was just using you. And now, the two of you were in a strange stalemate, and surprisingly, saw each other somewhat often.

While running odd errands for Crowley, sometimes you passed by the gym. You’d see Ace and Floyd, and also Jamil playing basketball, and invariably Jamil would become distracted. Floyd even loudly complained about that when a stray shot from Jamil hit him in the head. Then, at some point he’d offered to tutor you in Alchemy, saying that Kalim needed help too, so he’d just be getting two birds with one stone. And then Kalim would throw parties practically every fortnight and sic Jamil on your tail, begging you to come.

You supposed Kalim felt extremely grateful for helping him understand Jamil, but frankly you wanted to be left in peace. Still, when you did accept Kalim’s invitation, you sort of… enjoyed the small talk you made with Jamil, commenting on his cooking and sometimes helping him in the kitchen to get away from the crowds. At some point, the two of you even began meeting up to just… vibe.

Sometimes you’d meet with him in the kitchens, watching him cook while you did your homework, and occasionally cook with him. At some point, you’d take over from him and cook in his place, just to give the poor guy a break. This wasn’t something you took lightly, given how overprotective Jamil was over Kalim - the two of you reached a nice… whatever it was.

Still, you felt like he was uneasy around you. Why else would he keep staring at you, hovering over you, and ask you pointed questions? One moment he’d be more lax around you, chatting and bantering, and the next he’d be… venomous. It wasn’t like you could tell anyone about his overblot. You technically didn’t exist in this universe, anyway, so his secret was safe with you.

You heard a knock coming from the Ramshackle front door, and went to open it. In front of you stood Kalim and Jamil. Wait, no… sat.

They were both seated on Kalim’s flying carpet, the Housewarden beaming at you while Jamil looked tired and a bit peeved. “Hey, (name)!” The carpet waved its tassels at you. “Hey guys, I’m fine, but… why are you here?” Kalim grinned sunnily at you, “we wanted to see you! You should take a break and walk with us!” You glanced at Jamil, who was a little quiet, looking at you intently.

“I can’t, I’m…” you failed to think of an excuse, kicking yourself mentally, “…alright, sure.” Ugh, why did you agree?

Kalim cheered, and the three of you went along the path outside of Ramshackle. Kalim insisted that Jamil stayed on the carpet, even after he suggested he walk with you. “(Name), you should sit with us!” He smiled at you, something mischievous in his eyes. That’s a little… odd? Although it was Kalim after all. He did have some impulsive tendencies.

You gently took Jamil’s hand, surprised he’d even offered to help you up, and sat carefully on the carpet. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jamil flex the hand he held yours with. You scoffed, “dude, I don’t have rabies or anything. You’re not infected with my hand.” Jamil frowned and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Kalim jumped off the carpet. “Now, remember what we talked about! Go, carpet!”

Immediately, the carpet lurched forward. “Kalim, what did you do?!” Jamil gasped as the carpet began rising higher and faster. Your eyes widened and you instinctively grabbed the front of the carpet, “KALIM! Jamil stop the-!” You were cut off as the carpet zoomed up into the sky, leaving no trace except your shrieks and Jamil’s shouts. Nonetheless, Kalim smiled proudly at his handiwork, now Jamil and the Prefect can have some quality time together! Pleased, he pulled out his phone.

Kalim: its done! Jamil and (name) are in a whole new world of love now!!!!!!! \^o^/

On the other end of the chat, Najma grinned, and texted back:

Najma: YESSSSSSSS all according to plan >:)

———

You had been through a lot when you first arrived to NRC. Between living in Ramshackle, fighting overblots, dodging Floyds and Rooks, and shouldering Crowley’s responsibilities, you’ve dealt with your fair share of wildness.

But this? This was new.

You screamed as the carpet seemed to lurch higher and higher into the air, gripping the front of it for dear life. Your stomach flip-flopped wildly, and you tried to not projectile vomit in mid-air. The air rushed past your ears, cold and practically ripping through your skin. You could barely hear anything over the sound of wind, let alone Jamil yelling beside you.

At last, the carpet settled, and you felt extremely lightheaded. Your brain was static at this point, and you moved to lean on both hands when Jamil grabbed your wrist. “Do not look down.”

Well damn, you can’t tell me what to do, Jamil. That made you immediately look over the edge, and you regretted it instantly. The school was barely larger than a postage stamp, and you could practically see the borders of Sage’s Island with how high up you were. It was chilly too - you both were surrounded by clouds, and it was darker than you’d thought. It was probably about to rain - not that you’d know, being above the damn rainclouds.

Beside you, Jamil was beyond exasperated. If he seemed tense before, now he was just pissed. His hand on your wrist tightened, and he leaned closer to you. “Don’t. Look down.” His eyes flashed angrily at you, and you withered under his gaze, gripping the carpet tighter. He turned his eyes to your hands, gently putting his hands over yours.

“Look, I’ll steer the carpet downward, but you need to follow my lead.” He made you look at him. His dark eyes held your gaze, and for a moment you really did feel like you were in the clouds. That the world was just you and Jamil, high above everything on this terrifying carpet ride.

“Do you trust me?” You saw his lips move, but it sounded far away, like he was speaking through water. Maybe it was the altitude messing with your head, but Jamil looked so focused on you. You’d never seen him look at anything like this, so gently.

“Do you trust me?” Jamil tightened his hands over yours, and you were brought back to reality. You nodded, and he sighed. “Good. We’re going to go forward.” Carefully, he tipped the carpet, and you took in a sharp breath when you went forward. The two of you inched downwards, and the school became larger and larger until finally you both touched down in Scarabia.

Jamil clasped your hand in his and lead you off the carpet, silent. He had a deep frown on his face, and his dark eyes were even stormier than the skies. He didn’t get off the carpet with you, but clenched his hands after he helped you off. This was the second time it’s happened, he doesn’t think you have cooties or something right?

“Thanks, Jamil…” You looked at him, hoping he’d maybe lighten up a bit now that you were on the ground, but he refused to look at you, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance. “Just… stay here. I’m going to put the carpet away, just…I don’t need any more trouble.” As he walked away, you felt his words settle heavily in your gut. I’m just trouble for him? It’s not like I caused the carpet to go sky-high…

Still, you sat on the luxurious couch in the Scarabia common room, and tried to relax. Surprisingly, it was quiet - it seemed that everyone had gone to bed. It was a nice change from Ramshackle, at least. You shut your eyes, beginning to feel tired. After a while, you groggily awoke to a mop of white hair and red eyes exclaiming at you.

“(Name)! What are you doing here?! What about Jamil?! I thought you were up in the sky on your magic carpet ride!” Kalim blabbered while you tried to get your bearings back. He seemed… worried? He put his hand to his chin, thinking. “Well, maybe I could find an empty room and put you both in it-“

“Kalim.” The Housewarden immediately fell silent, spinning to Jamil with wide eyes, smiling at him. “Jamil! Don’t worry, we can still fix this!” Jamil’s frown deepened in confusion, “Kalim, what are you-“ “And the Prefect is still here!” Kalim pointed at you, and you went on alert as Jamil zeroed in on you, seemingly forgetting you were still here.

Kalim continued cheerfully, eyes steeling in happy-go-lucky determination. “And there’s still time! You can get back out on the carpet, there’s still stars out!” Jamil wrenched his eyes back to Kalim, mouth curling into a snarl and arms tensing. “Kalim, what are you talking about?”

“To confess!”

The silence was stifling. You stared wide-eyed at Jamil, who stared incredulously at Kalim, who still smiled innocently. Finally, Jamil seemed to temper himself and said through gritted teeth, “Kalim, go back to your room.”

Kalim placed his hands on his hips, “no way! We still have to-“ “Kalim.” Even though you didn’t know either of them as long as they knew each other, something in Jamil’s voice sapped Kalim of his energy. Kalim’s eyes widened, and after a moment, he left the room. You opened your mouth, but didn’t know what to say.

You watched as Jamil sighed irritably, running a hand through his long bangs. You slouched on the Scarabia couch, watching him pace and huff to himself. What had you done to earn his annoyance? He’s the one who basically kidnapped you on a flying rug. Surely he couldn’t dislike you that much.

“Kalim doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” he said at last, and you frowned deeply. “What? Kalim isn’t stupid, Jamil,” you said sharply, losing your patience, “and what in Seven’s name is up with you?

“Look, you’re-“ Jamil stopped, clearing his throat. He smoothed over his expression, face becoming the usual calm-and-composed Vice Housewarden that he always showed to the world, but not you. “Nothing is wrong.” You finally snapped, exhausted and utterly spent, “what is going on? You’ve been acting weird with me ever since winter break!” Jamil grit his teeth, but you continued. “What is your deal, Jamil?! I thought we were friends! What have I done to make you hate me this much?!”

“You’ve been a thorn in my side since you’ve come here!” Jamil yelled, stopping pacing in front of you. His chest heaved, and he had that angry-crazed look on his face he always got when exasperated. “You’re too clever for your own good! And ever since my…” he swallowed, starting to lose his momentum as he realized what he was saying, “last winter, you’ve shown yourself to be someone…interesting.” Finally, he seemed marginally calmer. “And… I don’t think I could’ve dealt with all of this without you, even though you’re the last person who I thought could help.”

Your frown deepened. You opened your mouth to say something, but Jamil hurriedly continued, shutting his eyes. “Look, I know that I inconvenienced you, but… you’re always on my mind, when I should be thinking about attending Kalim. You’re-“

“Alright, that’s it.” You stood up from the couch, and walked off without sparing a glance. Jamil stopped, sputtering, and cried out “you’re just going to leave?!” You spun on your heel, glaring at him. “Yes! I’m leaving so I don’t cause a bigger mess!” Jamil shut up immediately, and you stalked to him, poking his chest hard. “You have done nothing but insult me. What happened today, with the carpet, was not my fault. If anything, you made me into a thorn in your side.” He flinched, but you blazed on. He didn’t get to hurt and belittle you.

“You hurt the entire dorm with your overblot,” you seethed, “and you didn't inconvenience me. You imprisoned me and Grim in your little scheme. And I have tried to be nice to you since then, and I thought we were becoming friends, but you just seem to hate me every time you see me. So fine,” you backed off, throwing your hands up as you left, “I’m leaving, Jamil. I’m leaving.”

Jamil didn’t know how long he stood there after you’d left. The Scarabia common room seemed to get chillier as the night passed, but he couldn’t find it in himself to go back to his dorm. At some point, he found himself on the couch drifting in and out of sleep, wondering why things were the way they were, and why he just couldn’t be lucky. Before he closed his eyes, utterly defeated, his last thought was, I deserved that. But not them.

———

The next few weeks passed without a hitch, although you were still brimming with dulled hurt every time you saw Jamil and Kalim.

Even though you had nothing against Kalim, Jamil always slunk behind him like a shadow, making you uncomfortable every time the sunny housewarden bounded up to you. Somehow, it felt like Kalim came up to you even more often than before. You’d supposed that maybe Kalim was trying to mend things between you and Jamil, but while he had the best intentions, it was really up to Jamil. Still, you thought, you weren’t exactly kind when you last… spoke to him.

Every time you spoke to Kalim, you tried to gently but firmly turn his invitations down. This time, he seemed adamant that you come to tonight’s party, basically begging you to attend.

“Please, Prefect!” He grabbed your hand pleadingly, “it’ll be fun! The Pop Music club will be playing, and Jamil’s cooking all your favorites-“

“Kalim, let’s go.” You were jarred to hear Jamil speak up, and Kalim actually listen to him rather than brushing it off. Kalim looked at Jamil, who continued, “We need to head back to the dorm and prepare. And…” Jamil avoided your eyes, “please, don’t trouble the Prefect.”

As the two of them left, you felt their absence weigh on you. It had been a while since you’d hung out with Jamil - so you took to cooking alone in Ramshackle or Heartslabyul, and tried studying by yourself. On nights when Scarabia was having a party, you tried to not think about when you and Jamil would hang out in the kitchen, or when you and Kalim would drag him out to the dance floor to loosen up. Still, your Friday nights were getting drearier by the week, even when you tried reading Prejudice and Pride to take your mind off it.

In the gym, the basketball club was in full swing, and Ace and Jamil chatted while passing the ball to each other. “Yeah, sure, I can try to get them to come tonight,” Ace began dribbling the ball, then smirked at Jamil. “Didn’t know you missed them so much though!” Jamil frowned, flushing. “I just… Najma wanted to see them again. That’s all.”

Ace shrugged and passed the ball, “alright, guess I’ll see you later.” Later that day, you frowned at the text you got from Ace, wondering how you should respond. At this point, you’d attempted to avoid Scarabia at all costs, but it had been a while. Even then, you still wanted to see Kalim and Jamil one last time - and at least you’d be with your friends.

Ace: hey theres a party at scarabia tonight, Jamil wants you to go

Ace: so u wanna go or what

You: sure, I’ll be there. Meet u at the mirror in ten

———

You, Grim, Ace, Deuce, and Cater stepped into Scarabia. Immediately Cater ran off to find Lilia and Kalim, and you got separated from Ace and Deuce while trying to cross the dance floor. At some point Grim perked up as he smelled food wafting in the air, and made a beeline for the kitchen. You ran after him, dodging the partygoers (and at some point almost crashing into Lilia, Kalim, and the drum set) until you found yourself standing in the Scarabia kitchen.

Grim bounded over to Jamil, who was standing over the stove stirring a large pot. “Jamil! What’s cookin’?” Grim’s eyes were shining, and he strained to look up. You heard laughter from behind you, and a voice saying “hey, it’s the Prefect!” Jamil’s head snapped back to where you stood. You looked behind you, jaw dropping, “Najma?! What are you doing here?” She grinned at you, and you followed her to Jamil.

“I just wanted to see Jamil! And Kalim said he was having a party today,” she hugged you tightly. “I haven’t seen you since the festival! Jamil keeps talking about you too!” You made eye contact with Jamil over Najma’s shoulder. He looks like a deer in the headlights.

“Najma, let the Prefect go,” Jamil recovered quickly, and she let go reluctantly, pouting. You turned your attention to the pot, “hey, are you making curry? I thought Kalim hated that.”

Grim stood at attention, “whatever it is, I want some!” Jamil sighed, “I already made the food for the party, this is for Najma.” And you, if you showed up. Najma scrunched her nose, “I don’t want that, it’s too… plain.” Plain? You glanced into the very fragrant pot, swirling with spices and oil.

“You’re going to eat. You didn’t have lunch, baba will be mad if he finds out I didn’t feed you,” Jamil spooned some curry onto a plate and Najma crossed her arms. “It’s fine, but you still make your food look too plain. Like, garnish it or something. I know (name) can probably make it better!” She handed the plate to Grim, and as you picked Grim up to place him on a chair to eat, you frowned.

“My cooking isn’t that great, Najma. Jamil taught me some stuff, but still.” Najma looked confusedly at her brother, “but he says you cook so well!” Jamil gaped at her, while your eyes widened. Najma gave her brother a look, and continued, “he loves your cooking! And he said he loves cooking with you! And-”

“Jamil!” Finally you cut her off, as Jamil looked one second away from smothering her, “I didn’t know you liked my cooking?” You felt your nervousness from the party melt, and smiled hesitantly at him. He seemed to soften a little, “Yeah… it’s nice to have the company,” he cleared his throat. Why did it feel so hot in the kitchen?

Najma watched the both of you stare at each other, then clapped her hands together, making you both flinch. “Alright! This is enough. You need to get out.” As she strode out of the kitchen, you both watched her confused. “Najma, where are you going?,” Jamil called, but she didn’t answer. Grim shrugged, finishing off the curry, “Wow! Jamil, the food tasted so good!” You and Jamil stood in silence, before you both opened your mouths to speak.

“Jamil, I’m sorry for yelling-”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you (name)-”

Your eyes widened, and you both fell into an awkwardness. You were about to open your mouth, but then Najma kicked in the door. “Both of you! Out!~” Trailing behind her was… “Why’s the carpet here?!” Jamil yelled, “Najma that’s a precious heirloom of the al-Asim family! You can’t just-!” The carpet wrapped around both of you and Jamil and began pushing you out of the dorm to the outside, being lead by Najma, who cackled gleefully.

“Okay carpet! Two times is the charm! Go!” The carpet seemed to nod? and then unfurled itself from around you two. It swept underneath your and Jamils’ feet, and began rising gently in the air, unlike last time. Jamil was shouting at Najma, looking down but you weren’t focused on him. Rather, you were looking up.

“Jamil,” you nudged him softly. “Not now, Prefect,” he grumbled. “Jamil, look.” He finally sat down on the carpet, and his mouth hung open in shock. The two of you were in the sky again, but not as high this time. All around you, the stars twinkled brightly in the night, and nebulae swirled across the sky. There were barely any clouds. It was slightly chilly, but Jamil’s warmth next to you was enough to keep you fine. Rather, the goosebumps on your arms were from other things.

“It’s beautiful up here,” you breathed, and Jamil glanced at you. “Yeah, it is.” Jamil could feel his stresses slowly dissipate, and while you both were up in the sky, it felt like the world was only you and him, and the twinkling of the stars above you both. His mind wandered to the old Scalding Sands legend. Was this how the princess and her lover felt when they were courting?

You looked over at Jamil, gently grabbing his hand. In the calm of the night, Jamil seemed a little… less put-upon. Like he could finally speak freely. He cleared his throat, lost in thought. “I… got ahead of myself before,” he finally said, shifting uncomfortably on the carpet.

“I never got to tell you, but I’m sorry,” his voice cracked. “I’m sorry for trapping you and Grim in Scarabia. You’re not a thorn in my side, what I meant was… you were always there. And at first, I hated it. I didn’t trust you. You were like a thorn in my side, because you were always there. But…” You waited for him to continue, all the anger and hurt leaving you in the cool night air.

“I began to like your presence. Like I could relax when you were there, because you could help with Kalim, or keep me company while cooking, or just-” Jamil seemed a little choked up now, is he ok? “Be there. I never felt like that… just…-”

“Supported,” you finished, and he nodded, swallowing thickly. You both stayed quiet, until you spoke. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I just… You always seemed to either like me or hate me?” You felt jittery just saying it out loud, “sometimes we’d be fine, but sometimes you’d just… avoid me. And it hurt.”

Jamil squeezed your hand softly, and you sighed, “And I never know what you’re thinking. I really don’t know if you just kept me around for Kalim, or if we were actually…” friends. Jamil moved closer to you. “...I do like being with you. I… I do.”

Jamil turned your chin so you’d face him. He took a deep breath, “Kalim wanted me to… confess,” the word sounded like a hiss. “I thought he was getting ahead of himself as usual but then I…” he hesitated, “I realized he was right. And Najma was right. I did… I have feelings for you, and somewhere along the way I started… loving you.” His voice became quiet, and he averted his eyes from yours, as if expecting you to be angry. To his surprise, you weren’t.

You cut him off, gently pressing your lips against his cheek. His eyes widened, barely believing it. Him? Of all people, him?

“I really wanted you to not hate me,” you confessed, face feeling warm despite the chill. “I… really do like you, Jamil. I like what you can do, and I like you. And I think somewhere along the way…”

You squeezed his hand tightly, making him look at you with a smile on your face, “I started loving you too.” You softly closed the distance between you, finally ending the weeks of inner turmoil.

Jamil softly cupped your face, looking into your eyes, then kissed you gently, as if he couldn’t believe that this was real. You wrapped your hand around the hand on your face, squeezing it softly. You were here. You moved to clasp him tighter, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you tighter.

Quietly in the chilled night, if anyone cared to look up into the starry sky, they would have seen two newfound lovers finally together, exchanging stolen kisses and chuckling amongst themselves. Lucky for them, the only witnesses to them were the stars above, and two teenagers standing outside Scarabia.

Hands on her hips, Najma proudly stared up into the sky, squinting at the shadowed figures on the carpet. Wordlessly, she held up her hand, and Kalim high-fived her, grinning.

“Mission accomplished!~”

~END

———

Notes: this got so long bc of the introduction with Najma but I just had to include her and Kalim conspiring together! Anyway, hope you enjoyed the Jamil chapter, thank you so much for reading!!!!!!

Taglist: @cerisescherries, @eclecticprincecollector, @ars-tral, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps, @casperandcats, @ttokkisbee, @mitsuriswaifu, @parad-ice-lostandfound

@sad-sie, @moyo5653,

(If your username is in bold, it means I wasn’t able to tag you properly 😅)

Pride & Prejudice: A TWSTed AU

The Merchant from the Depths: A. Ashengrotto

Introduction, or pick another route!

Azul x GN Reader (they/them)

Warnings: Azul is (lovingly) a sus dumbass and businessman, P&P level angst and insults, I got carried away and this is 6k words im so sorry

—

Azul was staring at you again.

Surprisingly, at this point you were sort of used to it. If anything, you stared back at him, dead in the eye, until he broke eye contact, adjusting his glasses or ruffling his hair. Still, it unnerved you a bit more than you’d care to admit.

Ever since his overblot, you noticed that he’d make his presence known around you. Whether it was Azul himself, or Jade or Floyd lurking around your general vicinity and eventually herding you near Mostro Lounge, it was starting to get a little concerning. Especially because of that strange look in his eye when he thought you weren’t looking.

Still, you got some weird signals from Azul, because sometimes he’d chat with you (and not-so-subtly get you to sign a deal with him). Other times, he’d hardly meet your eyes at all.

So now, you decided to ruffle him. It wasn’t like you could go toe-to-toe (tentacle-to-tentacle?) with Azul without causing a massive headache, and staring back at him was hardly the worst thing one could do at NRC. So, you initiated a staring contest with him. You won every time, and he always slunk back with pink dusting his cheeks. The bitter shame of defeat, you thought proudly. Nevermind that it was cute seeing a different side to him, your stomach doing flips.

Meanwhile, still slumped in his seat, Azul attempted to cool his face off. Sevens, you always seemed to surprise him. Humans were so odd - just when he thought he had you all figured out, you always did something that threw him off guard. It appears you weren’t the quiet Prefect all of the time. As class ended and he walked back to Octavinelle, his mind drifted.

The past few weeks following his overblot were strange, indeed. Three days earlier, he sat across from you in his office, smug that he’d finally get Ramshackle. Then a few days later, he was returning the very photo he’d contracted you to steal, and rethinking everything he thought about you. The landfolk always talk about sirens in the sea, he thought irritably as he rubbed his temple, staring down a blank contract. But if the landfolk had their version of sirens, you’d be it.

He tapped the fishbone quill against his desk, gritting his teeth. He didn’t know how much time had passed until Jade entered his office, followed by Floyd who leaned against the doorframe. “Azul, we have this week’s profits-“ Jade stopped when he saw him, “oh? Are you alright? Have you been overworking?”

Azul sighed, flopping back in the armchair. Jade hummed, “perhaps it has to do with a meddling someone?” Azul’s face flushed, and Jade had his answer.

“Fufu, this is interesting,” Jade grinned and watched as Azul composed himself, pushing his glasses up. “We have reasonable proof that the Prefect also shares feelings for you, Azul.” The dorm leader stopped and looked at him.

“…Really?” He asked, resting a hand beneath his elbow and propping his head up. “What proof?

“Who else but the only other soul in the school who dorms with them?” A grin spread slowly across Azul’s face, and he hummed to himself, pleased, “I suppose I should… affirm this for myself. Thank you, Jade.” His glasses glinted ominously in the light as the twins matched his grin. “You should turn in for the night, I’ll be here.” He snapped his fingers and a blank piece of golden parchment unfurled itself midair. “I should make preparations.”

———

Grim had never been this hungry nor intimidated in his life. And never at the same time.

It all started when he went to the cafeteria to get something for lunch, and he was stopped by Azul’s two lackeys. Then, he was whisked into Mostro Lounge with the promises of all the tuna he could want, with desserts!, if only he’d have a little chat with the Housewarden. Despite his grumbling stomach, he was still coherent enough to know bad idea, big no-no. Prefect will yell at you.

Then he saw the buffet of tuna on the table and all reason left him.

He lunged at the table, already drooling, when Floyd caught him around his midsection, “Ah ah ah, sealie,” he grinned ominously, “you gotta talk to the boss!”

At that moment, Azul strode into the room, blue dorm uniform jacket billowing behind him. “Ah, Grim, so good of you to join us.” He seated himself next to the head of the table, where Floyd plopped Grim down. Grim watched dazedly as Floyd and Jade moved to stand behind his chair, while Azul was already pulling out a lengthy contract followed by a little inkpot.

“I understand that you and the Prefect are close? Perhaps, you’d be willing to tell me a bit more… about them,” Azul smirked, watching the fear and hunger swirl in Grim’s eyes. The little cat monster leaned away from him, and Azul loomed closer. “I ain’t telling you anythin’!” He’s still loyal, griped Azul internally. But Azul wasn’t the infamous business-mer of Octavinelle for nothing.

“Of course, of course!” He waved a hand, adjusting his glasses with the other, “I would never want to pry! After all,” he smirked dangerously at Grim, who felt a shiver run down his back, “I am a changed man! And I have the Prefect to thank for it.”

As if on cue, Jade and Floyd leaned down closer to Grim, and he could feel their breaths on his fur. Azul continued, watching Grim’s composure crack with satisfaction, now we’re getting somewhere. “I simply want to thank the Prefect with an… alliance,” he took a saucer and spooned out some expensive tuna, piling it on a cracker, “one that would, of course benefit them. Benefit you.”

Grim opened his mouth to protest, but Azul stuffed the cracker into his mouth. He grinned at the twins, “today is simply the first day of negotiations. If you tell me what I want to know, then this sumptuous feast-“ he brandished a gloved hand to the table laden with food “-is yours. But this is the first of many to come.”

He leaned closer to Grim, satisfied that the hunger in the cat monster’s eyes was growing after whetting his appetite with the tuna cracker. “If your information proves useful, and the Prefect and I form a relationship, I will provide you with high quality foods and comfort.”

To drive the point, Azul topped a cracker with tuna, “including all the tuna,” he added a spoonful of caviar, “you could ever,” he squeezed a lemon over it, “want.”

Grim’s eyes were sparkling, and he opened his mouth as Azul brought the cracker closer to him. Suddenly Azul stuffed the cracker into his own mouth, and Grim’s face fell. Azul’s smirk grew, and he leaned back nonchalantly chewing on the caviar, pleased at the lemon’s tang, “but of course, this depends on how well you help me. You’ll be able to eat after our little chat, don’t worry. I’ll be contacting you for information later today.”

Azul could see the exact millisecond that Grim relented. Eyes sparkling, Grim yelled “HECK YEAH!” And stuffed a paw into the inkpot before Azul could react. Grim slammed his paw where the signature line was, ink splattering on the tablecloth, but Azul didn’t care. Yes, you’ve played right into my grasp, he grinned and snapped his fingers. As the twins backed off and Grim catapulted himself into the middle of the table, Azul chuckled to himself as he ambled back to his office, the Prefect is as good as mine.

———

That’s odd, you thought as you glanced at the clock, Grim should be here by now.

He didn’t come to lunch today, and you hadn’t seen him in a while. It wasn’t usually like Grim to skip a meal, and now it was late evening, and you still didn’t know where he was.

You sighed. You had no energy to deal with this. It was slowly getting later and later, and it was already dark out when you heard the front door open and saw Grim trudging in, looking exhausted.

“Grim!” You scooped him up and hugged him, “where were you?! I was so worried! Don’t do that again!” You blubbered, “are you hungry?” “Nope!” Grim said quickly, which made you a little suspicious. Grim? Not hungry? Sure, when the Scalding Sands freezes over.

“Did you eat?” Grim tensed in your grip, “yeah! Just- stop askin’ questions henchhuman! You worry too much.” He got out of your arms and padded off. “Grim, where did you go?” Grim stopped, eyes wide. “Don’t worry about it!” He raced up to your room, while you frowned behind him. You were definitely worrying about it.

———

Earlier that day, Grim went to his classes after lunch, completely content after his meal at Mostro Lounge and forgetting about his deal. After clubs, he began making his way back to Ramshackle when two shadows loomed behind him. Squeaking, he turned back and lo and behold, Jade and Floyd were grinning at him.

“Eh~ Has sealie-o forgot his little promise?” Floyd cackled, grabbing Grim, “don’t worry, we didn’t!~” It was at that moment Grim knew; he fucked up. This was a mistake. A trap. A grim Grim error. The twins strode into the hall of mirrors, heading straight for Azul’s office. Floyd plopped Grim down on the seat across from Azul, who rested his chin on his intertwined hands. Grim shivered as Azul’s glasses glinted ominously in the light. Azul tapped his quill twice against the desk, smirking assuredly.

“Now, let us begin~”

———

“Grim, what’s this all about?

You were almost running behind your cat monster, who seemed a little too skittish to be without blame. Ever since he came home late that day, he’d been oddly quiet. It all started when you got a letter addressed to you.

My dearest Prefect,

I hope this message finds you well. In light of what transpired before winter break, I’ve realized that I never properly thanked you for helping me.

As such, it would be my honor to host you at Mostro Lounge this evening. I cordially invite you to dinner tonight, please arrive punctually. I look forward to seeing you soon.

Yours,

Azul Ashengrotto

When you tried to find Jade and Floyd (Sevens only knew how long you looked for Azul himself before you gave up), they merely smiled ominously at you and remained just out of reach. As the evening approached, you were left only with confusion and a very skittish Grim. For the past week, he’d come back to Ramshackle later and later, but curiously he wasn’t hungry at all. This was odd - your little cat monster was always down for tuna. Except now.

When you mentioned the dinner to him, he laughed nervously and curiously didn’t ask to tag along. “Why? Its a dinner at Mostro Lounge. Its free. Don’t you want food?” Grim gulped, rubbing the top of his head strangely. “A-and see those two weirdos an’ Azul again? No way!” Still, you noticed his ears pinning back on his head. He’s scared.

“What did they do?” Your eyes narrowed and Grim flinched. “Nothin! You should go to your date!” “Grim, its not a date…” you turned to the letter thoughtfully, “or is it?” “For the love of- YES ITS A DATE! I’m not gonna let that contract go to nothin’!” Grim screeched, the flames on his ears flaring up. Wait… why was it purple and growing out of his head?

“Grim what did you do?!” You watched in horror as an anemone grew out of Grim’s head yet again. “You signed a contract with him?! Why the hell did you do that?!” Grim’s face fell into shock. “Uh oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell ya that…”

With that, the cat monster raced out of the room and made a beeline straight for the Octavinelle mirror. “Grim!” You ran after him, tripping as you fell into the mirror. You thudded on the floor, panting, until two pairs of nice dress shoes came into sight. “Hello, Prefect,” Jade greeted with a hand on his chest. Floyd picked you up by the shoulders and dusted you off. “Welcome to Mostro Lounge~”

The Lounge is… different, you realized. For starters, there was no one there - usually around this time, there’d be customers. Did the Lounge close early tonight? The ambience also was… new. Sure, it was always a little dark since it was underwater-ish, but now there were candle-lit tables flickering, highlighting a central table with two chairs. Somehow it felt very… intimate.

Surely this was some kind of weird prank? “...whats going on?” you looked at the twins, who started chuckling. You suddenly got your bearings back, voice rising in pitch, “Where is Grim?!”

“Ah, Prefect, you’ve arrived.”

You looked up, eyes widening. Azul strode into the Lounge, pearlescent and practically gleaming. His hair was slicked back, and he was dressed smartly in a light greyish-blue suit. He looked opulent, with a layered pearl necklace around his neck reminiscent of his outfit from the festival at Noble Bell. Instead of his usual rectangle glasses, he wore his round-lens frames. In his left breast pocket was a dark blue rose, which he carefully took and held out to you. “Its wonderful of you to join us. Shall we begin?”

What in the cinnamon toast fuck was going on?

—--

Last night, Azul came up with 862 date plans to ensure you had fun. And you will have fun!

He managed to get his money’s (and tuna buffet’s) worth after making (convincing) Grim to sign that contract with him. When Floyd dropped Grim into the seat across from him, Azul grilled him on your interests.

All night, he pored over his notes, going over every detail that Grim said. His main questions were answered, like Is the Prefect looking for a partner?, What does the Prefect want in a partner?, What is the Prefect attracted to?, and so on. In the end, he left his last question unanswered - partially because Grim looked far too frazzled to answer, and because Azul was too scared to ask.

His final question: Does the Prefect love me back? remained unanswered at the bottom of the page. Thankfully, he thought as he pulled your chair out and had you sit down, I don’t need to answer it. You will love me by the end of the night!

As Azul sat down across from you, you gulped. You severely underestimated what this dinner would be. But with Azul dressed to the nines, the twins snickering over your shoulders, and Grim being skittish all day, this could only mean one thing: you were going to have a literal romantic candle-lit dinner with the same dude who nearly made you homeless and made Grim an anemone.

It sickened you. It was overwhelming. So much that you could hardly get any words out as Jade wafted to the table carrying platters of your favorite foods, while Azul laced his fingers together and observed you so gently. It wasn’t like you could get any words in, because Azul began talking at you, Jade started grinning, and you were just reeling. You could hear Floyd humming along with the sizzle of frying oil, and became hyperfocused on random things: Jade’s golden eye. The candle flame flickering. The smell of food. And Azul’s analytical eyes watching you as he spoke.

As Azul began a long tirade about ‘how lovely it was to finally sit down and speak with you Prefect! I do appreciate your time, as you can see we’ve prepared the Lounge to your taste! We hope the food is to your liking and-‘ you cut him off.

“Azul, where is Grim?” You said flatly, putting down your knife and fork. You weren’t even eating anyway, you’d just shoved the food around the plate. By now you were tired of asking questions and wanted answers, dammit. Azul’s eyes widened, and he leaned on his elbow. “Grim is fine! In fact, he was kind enough to tell me all about you.”

You tensed. This wasn’t good. You weren’t necessarily hiding anything, but it wasn’t like you wanted Azul to know things he shouldn’t. “…like what?” You asked, taking up your drink and sipping it slowly. If Azul was going to be coy, you would too. You wouldn’t lose your composure to him.

Azul leaned forward, smirk growing. “Many things,” he tapped a gloved finger against his cheek, “your preferred foods, your aesthetic or decor, and curiously,” his eyes locked onto yours, “your interest in me.”

Strictly speaking, that was a bluff; Grim hadn’t told him that. But as you visibly grew flustered, he thought he hit the nail on the head. “Now now, don’t worry, we didn’t discuss anything bad! Rather, after speaking to him, I have a proposal that I believe would interest you greatly.”

He snapped his fingers, and a gleaming golden contract unfurled beside him. Pushing up his glasses, Azul seemed to smile gently at you. “Now, you would gain plenty things - a free meal at Mostro Lounge per week, a consistent stream of gifts, flowers delivered to Ramshackle every Monday, along with meetings with me each Saturday-” He was about to continue when you cut him off.

“This… this has to be some kind of trick,” you muttered, dazed. You didn’t even realize you said it out loud until Azul’s gaze softened, “No, I’m being completely serious, Prefect. I-“ “What is this?” You demanded, straightening up.

Azul visibly bristled at your words, practiced businessman-smile wavering. “This? This is just a fraction of what I can give you!” He forced himself to keep his composure, “o-of course we can amend the contract-“ “Azul! What is the contract for?!” By now you were beyond worried. You had no idea where Grim disappeared to, and had no explanation about this dinner thing Azul clearly dressed to the nines for. “What am I agreeing to?!”

Azul went pink. “I-I…” you could overhear Jade snickering in the kitchen while something seemed to fall over. Azul cleared his throat, starting to look strangely shy. “I would like you to be my partner.” You frowned deeply, “I’m not working with you. Why do you want me to be your business partner anyway?” At your words, you heard Jade and Floyd bark in laughter while Azul looked like he wanted to sink into his suit

“I mean.. romantically,” he whispered. Your eyes widened while your heart pounded. Slowly, things started to fall into place. Your eyes narrowed, this was too good to be true. “Why?” Azul’s eyes widened, “well, why not?” You stayed silent, just looking at him. Despite being in a not-enemy-situation with Azul, you didn’t exactly forget what transpired before winter break. How you and Jack walked into Octavinelle with the twins, and sat across from Azul as he tried to kick you and Grim out of Ramshackle. And how he gave you backhanded insult after insult, and for what? For him to come up to you now, months later, just to tug on your heartstrings?

He still wanted Ramshackle after all that soul-searching at the Atlantica Museum? Anger burned hot in your stomach. Had he no shame?

Azul grew nervous at your silence. Foolishly, he rambled to fill the quiet, “w-well, you’re quite the intriguing human. Not many have successfully defied my contracts. And I… understand that our first meeting was… less than ideal…” He carefully watched for your reactions, but your face was unreadable, “but I am willing to make amends. I’ve grown affectionate of you, and I believe that I can provide you with enough benefits to make you happy.” He tried for a debonair smile and pointed to the contract, “You will receive many things and more. Quite honestly, this deal is very unlike me - truly, I’m going against my own better judgement.”

This had to be a dream. You laughed humorlessly, surprising him. “And what do you receive?” Azul smiled gently at you, “All I really want is you.” You barked out a laugh, feeling so emotionally exhausted you could cry. “Yeah, sure, and Ramshackle right?” Azul’s eyes widened and he hurriedly tried to explain, “No, of course not-” “Yeah right!” You stood up, glaring down at him. “This-this is some kind of trick right?!” You grabbed the contract and scanned it:

“In accordance with help from Grim, he shall be compensated fittingly for the following tasks:

1) Providing information on the Prefect, (Name)’s, interests in a partner

2) Helping with distinguishing of the Prefect’s preferred romantic aesthetics (dining, love language, physical attributes, personality, etc.)

3) Meeting for the summation of one (1) week to discuss topics regarding (Name)

If Grim tells the Prefect, (Name), details regarding Azul Ashengrotto’s plans before the intended date, then he shall be indebted to Azul for an indefinite time as an anemone-worker.”

You didn’t even bother reading the rest of it. Your eyes were locked on the last line.

“You extorted Grim?!” you screeched, making Jade and Floyd stick their heads out the kitchen door. “You extorted Grim and you expect me to date you?!” Azul tried to calm you down, “Yes- I mean no- I just asked him a few questions! He was compensated with food-” “So that’s why he came back late?! This was what Grim was being weird about?” You took a few deep breaths to calm yourself down, rubbing your eyes and feeling a few tears come out. “I knew that letter had to be some kind of trick. I knew this was a mistake.” Azul bristled, “a mistake?! Do you have any idea how long this took to prepare?! I could date anyone in this school, but I chose you! Against my own better judgement!”

“Yeah,” you agreed, looking him dead in the eye. “You chose the human with ‘no innate magical power.’” Azul flinched, but you blazed on, hyperventilating, “You chose the ‘utterly run-of-the-mill’ human with the one thing you want - Ramshackle.” Azul finally shut up, he talks too much you thought bitterly. “You’ve insulted me in every possible way. You’ve tried to extort me, you’ve taken advantage of Grim twice, and now you’re trying to play with my emotions to kick me out of Ramshackle! Again!” You clenched your fists, vision tunneling. “Are you kidding me?! I am never! Going to date you!” you shoved the now-crumpled contract into Azul’s chest as he blubbered. “I’m not signing that contract! You are the last person I would date on this campus!”

The silence that followed hung in the air thickly. As you breathed heavily, you realized the weight of your words. Azul was by no means a person to make an enemy of, but you had spoken the truth. And he seemed to realize that. “Then if that’s your decision, there’s no point in continuing this dinner.”

Azul sighed quietly, “Floyd, bring Grim out. Let them leave.” Grim bounded up to you, puffing angrily until you gave him a look, “ you, Grim, are in so much trouble.”

—---

The next few weeks were quiet. And considerably unsupervised by two eels and an octopus.

After you told your friends about what happened, unsurprisingly Ace and Deuce were angry. Jack was pissed too, “you’re tellin’ me Azul still wants Ramshackle?! After all this time?” Jack clenched his fists while Deuce had a crazed ‘delinquent’ look. “I thought we showed him not to mess with ya’ before! Even after making us anemone’s he doesn’t know when to quit!”

You sighed, already tired. “look, nothing’s happened. I don’t think he’ll try anything.” Not after you wrecked his ego.

Jack crossed his arms, “that octopunk better not be plotting. He may honor a contract, but you can’t trust a schemer.” You shrugged, “He can’t do anything because I didn’t sign the contract, so even if he did want Ramshackle, he’d have to go about it differently. Anyway,” you glanced at the time, “Lunch is about to end. See you guys after class, c’mon Grim.” You all parted ways, and you and Grim walked into History of Magic.

You listened to Professor Trein drone on, and after a while of notetaking, he cleared his throat. “To end this unit, I will be assigning a project in which you will report on the magical history of a specific place. I have randomly assigned you a place to report on,” he regarded the room full of groaning students, gesturing to the table behind him “you have one month to finish it. Class dismissed. The area you will report on is listed on the papers behind me, beside your name.” Students flocked to the table, and you waited a bit for everyone to clear out while you collected your things.

Finally, you walked to the table and flipped the papers, looking for your and Grim’s names while Trein hummed at the podium. Lucius slunk between your ankles, purring softly while your heart sank at what you had to report on.

“The Coral Sea?” You looked up at Trein, “S-sir, I won’t be able to-” “Why not?,” the man asked, picking Lucius up. You mirrored him and picked Grim up, who crossed his arms, “nya, its Azul’s ‘n his hencheels’ home!” Way to be obvious, Grim. Trein raised an eyebrow, “It’s always good to learn more about others’ homelands. It may do you and Grim good to learn more about this world, and from what I gather, you have been there before.” You flinched, but Trein didn’t seem to condemn you. “However, you aren’t the only terrestrial student assigned an aquatic area. While I won’t make every student visit their assigned areas, I believe it will be beneficial if you visit them. I will speak to Professor Crewel about providing you underwater breathing potions.”

While that wasn’t what you were worried about, you still appreciated it. “Thank you, Professor,” you shouldered Grim, determined. “We won’t let you down.”

—---

After about a week of waiting, and getting jumpscared by Crowley who gave you an underwater breathing potion after singing his own praises (“ah! How generous I am!~”), you and Grim headed to the Dark Mirror. “The Coral Sea,” you called out, gulping, “The Atlantica Memorial Museum.” As the Mirror swirled, so too did your mind as you stepped in after taking the potion.

You floated in the water for a moment. The last time I was here was… Ah, right. When you were stealing from the museum, and when you returned the photo with everyone. The photo… you swam towards the museum, which was thankfully open this time. You willfully ignored the mer-museum goers, some who looked surprised to see a human. You supposed you couldn’t blame them, though - you were floored when you saw the twins’ eel forms for the first time.

You and Grim swam around the exhibits for a bit, with you taking notes and Grim finding the information. Even though you didn’t really want to do the assignment in the first place, you couldn’t deny that it was fascinating seeing human ‘artifacts’ from a merfolk perspective. You were able to get a good amount of material - from the mermaid princess’ hairbrush (which was just a fork?), the Sea King’s trident, and a replica of the Sea Witch’s crown and nautilus. The museum even had some of her old makeup products - which was a shellfish she squeezed. Cool. Anyway.

Now you and Grim were tired, and it was around late lunchtime since you got to the museum as soon as it opened. As you both headed out, Grim stretched, swirling in the water, “henchhuman, I’m hungry!,” his eyes lit up and despite the oceanwater, you swore you could see drool, “Ya think the Coral Sea has any good eats?! Oh, imagine the seafood…!” You noted that the potion duration still had some time left, but still. You were hungry too after using all your energy swimming, and it wasn’t like you’d be back in the Coral Sea anytime soon. After thinking, you nodded, “sure, we can go look.”

The museum was close to the ‘city,’ so you both swam around. A few merfolk murmured in surprise at seeing a human and cat, but you tried to ignore it. Suddenly Grim gasped, “nya, the Mostro Lounge?!” Your head snapped up to the bioluminescent sign. A swirl of emotions went through you, while Grim blanked out remembering his contract. It isn’t like you’ll see Azul here (name). You’ll be fine. “...Azul did say that the Lounge at school is a sister location, I think…” Still, this place looks way too fancy. You definitely couldn’t afford it.

“Welp, we can’t afford it Grim, lets go-” you tried to swirl around and swim off but you were a little clumsy in the water. You knocked over a shell decoration at the entrance accidentally, and Grim crashed into a merman guest. “Hey! Easy there- wait, a human?!” Oh no, immediately the merfolk zeroed in on you. You stiffened nervously. You caught some whispers, “Are they a student?,” “Look, they have a Night Raven College uniform,” “Wow! A human!”

You looked around nervously, unconsciously backing into the restaurant when you heard a female voice behind you. “Oh, are you a student at Night Raven College?” You whirled around, crashing into the tentacles of an older mer-octopus lady. She didn’t seem fazed, but smiled widely at you. Even before she introduced herself, you recognized those eyes and well-placed mole.

“Hello dear! I run this restaurant, my son goes to your school as well! Perhaps you know him?” She held your gaze, but you could feel her tentacles fixing your collar and blazer, while she dusted your shoulders off with her hands. “I- I might,” you stammered, “I’m (name).” “Oh, its so nice to meet one of my baby’s friends! He’s told me all about you!” As she grabbed Grim around the torso with a tentacle, she firmly grasped your shoulders. “Please, you must have something to eat!” As she steered you to a table, you tried to gather your bearings. You were seated, and she thrust a menu into your hands.

“It’s so nice to meet you, (name)! You’re the prefect, right?” Your eyes widened, but she continued. “Oh, where are my manners? I’m Azul’s mother! My son is the Octavinelle housewarden,” she said proudly, confirming your suspicions. “Really?,” you asked, wondering what the odds were that you’d meet the mother of the guy you viciously dumped. She took your surprise for confusion, “Yes, I believe you two know each other? He’s mentioned you before. I’ll ask him later!” she beamed, “Please, pick whatever you’d like from the menu! It’s all on the house for my baby’s friends!” She winked, and you managed a nervous smile while Grim cheered. You shakingly pointed out a few foods, and she whisked off to the kitchen in a stream of bubbles.

A few minutes later, she walked back with way more plates than you ordered, and sat down next to you. Even after you asked if she’d like any food, she refused, and simply said “I just want to talk with you! I’ve heard a lot about you~” That made you nervous, but you complied. After the first few minutes, you relaxed a bit, and made easy conversation with her. Even Grim seemed more carefree, after inhaling about five plates of Coral Sea tuna, which she herself made, to your surprise.. Azul definitely got his conversational ability from her, you thought. While Azul used his chattiness to talk people into a contract, his mother used it for hospitality. It was no wonder the original Mostro Lounge was a hit - it was all because of her ability, inside the kitchen and out. This was nice, you thought tenderly.

“It’s good to hear that my baby’s doing well,” she hummed. “I’m glad he has some land friends. I sometimes worry he works too hard,” she chuckled, reminiscent. “You know, he’s always had a hard time opening up to others, outside of the Leech brothers. He’s always had his head in his contracts, he certainly got that from my husband. I’m glad he’s opened up a bit more. I’m glad he has you,” she smiled gently. You felt a bundle of nerves well up inside you, but you simply nodded. “Y-yeah…”

“Well! If you’re finished with your food, then it’s time for dessert!” In a blink of an eye, she swept up the plates with her tentacles and rose from the chair, winking. “I know just the thing! Wait here.” You tried to protest, but she left too quickly. Grim hummed happily while you slunk down in your seat. Azul has a hard time opening up. Was the contract… his way of doing that? I didn’t even hear him out… “Grim,” you asked quietly, “was I too harsh on Azul?” Grim looked up, pondering. “Nya? Henchhuman, you can’t be havin’ second thoughts! Not after you took my tuna away for three months!” You pursed your lips, but started when you heard your name.

“Prefect?!” You snapped up, wide eyed and staring at… “Azul?!” But… not Azul?

There was the housewarden himself, but not in human form. His merform. You were reminded of his overblot form, but that paled in comparison to now. Azul’s tentacles were longer, even longer than Jade and Floyd’s full merforms. His skin was a light lavender, wait he has abs? and the majority of his body was a smooth, inky black that shimmered mesmerizingly in the ocean light. His eyes and hair were a lovely light blue, but now he looked very panicked at you seeing his true self.

“You- you’re-!” Azul shut his eyes tightly, this isn’t happening please not them too, “Prefect please don’t ever mention this, I swear I’ll give you whatever-!” “You’re beautiful,” you gasped in awe. Azul’s eyes widened, and a deep purple blush spread on his face. “Why- you-!” Suddenly you realized where you were, and scrambled for an explanation while Grim zeroed in on the dessert Azul was holding, “I- we’re here because of Trein’s project, and-!” “Hey Azul, gimme that!”

While Grim dug into the dessert, Azul held his head in his hands, sitting next to you, tentacles curling in on themselves as if to make him smaller. You swished your legs around awkwardly, before saying quietly, “I had no idea you’d be here. I… Why are you here? It’s not a holiday.” “I… went to visit my stepfather for advise on the Lounge. I had permission from the headmaster,” he said finally. “I stopped here to see my mother, and you could imagine my surprise when she said a human student was here,” he chuckled humorlessly. “She told me to bring them dessert, and shoved me out the kitchen. It never crossed my mind it was you.”

You bit your lip and looked away. This was the first time you and him were speaking since that failed dinner. “…I’m sorry,” you said finally. “What I said to you in the Lounge was awful, and-”

“No, in hindsight your reaction was… reasonable,” he said to your surprise, “I admit that my methods weren’t… the best,” he said, as if saying that hurt him. Which you supposed it did - Azul didn’t take failure well. And why would he? When he worked so hard to get where he was?

Grim burped, sighing contentedly while Azul’s mother bustled out of the kitchen. “Zuzu! You found your friend!” Azul flinched at the nickname, blushing again, “Mama, please-” “No! I’m sure poor (name) has been sitting here long enough! Why don’t you two take a little swim, hm?” She wrapped a tentacle around your torsos and shoved you gently out the entrance, smiling pointedly at her son. “I’ll take care of Grimmy, you enjoy yourselves!” Grim yowled in protest, but as she turned, you saw her offering a dessert to pacify him. Old habits die hard, you supposed.

By now, the sun was setting, and the ocean was warmed to a pleasant orange. Your hair swayed gently in the current, and you followed Azul along a path. You both stopped on a high rock and sat down, dangling your lower limbs over the ledge. He hadn’t said a word the entire time. You stared into the distance, “Azul, why did you want me to sign that contract?”

He was quiet. “I told you, I wanted you to be my partner.” He hugged his arms as if to shield himself, “You made it quite clear you didn’t want me. And I’ll respect your choice. You won’t hear a word from me or the twins. I promise.” You bit your lip, “you really meant it?” His eyes widened. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He refused to meet your eyes, but if he did he’d see a smile grow on your face. “You… you didn’t want Ramshackle? Or to… I dunno, get back at me?” “...No. I truly didn’t. I… I really did just want you.” I do want you.

You nudged him gently, “Even against your own better judgement?” you asked jokingly, but he didn’t pick it up. He felt his eyes sting, “I didn’t mean to say that. I panicked and I… even if we…” he swallowed thickly, “I don’t regret falling for you. Even if…” he trailed off, but you felt your heart melt.

“I do foolish things around you,” he whispered. “It’s like all my years of negotiating is gone. But I didn’t want to make you be with me. I wanted you to want to be with me.”

Oh. Oh. Suddenly the jittery feeling you’d had during the dinner came back full-force. “Hey, Azul?” you asked with newfound courage, fueled by adrenaline alone. “You know… you don’t have to make me be with you.” He peeked at you from behind his bangs, eyes wide. Your face started feeling hot, but you grabbed his hand, “I want to be with you too. In every form.”

You didn’t know when you started moving closer to Azul, but right then he dipped his head toward you. His lips captured yours, and he wrapped his arms around you tightly as if trying to make sure that this wasn’t a dream. Immediately your hands cupped his face, and your legs tangled with his limbs. At last, you both pulled away, panting. You were smiling so hard your cheeks began aching.

“Guess I came around in the end, huh?” “Well, my business judgement is always sound, angelfish,” he said smugly, but you weren’t fooled. “You talk to much, Azul,” you giggled, pulling him in for another kiss.

What a memorable trip to the Coral Sea.

~END

———

Notes: spot the spy x family reference lmao. Also, the blue rose signifies secrecy, pride, admiration, and unrequited love! Ngl i had fun writing this, it was so cathartic to write, but this was my longest fic yet holy shit

For the dinner scene this is what I imagined

You: *yelling at Azul during dinner*

Tweels, peeking from the kitchen and eating popcorn, watching it like a telenovela: damn

Anyway!! Thank you so much for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

Taglist: @cerisescherries, @eclecticprincecollector, @ars-tral, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps, @casperandcats, @ttokkisbee , @mitsuriswaifu, @parad-ice-lostandfound, @sad-sie, @moyo5653

(If your user is in bold, it means I wasn’t able to tag you properly 😅)

Since I could actually come up with something,, comfort kisses with either jams or rugbert

Ily btw <3

sleepy love!! jamil viper, ruggie bucchi

jamil kisses you lazily, sloppily, reaching up to you but not quite reaching you, longer-than-average tongue sticking out between his lips as he his eyes narrow, you becoming a problem to solve. his untied hair falls lazily over his now bare shoulder, his tee slipping off as he captures your lips in another, better, more proper kiss, eyes smouldering like burnt charcoal- in victory.

ruggie nibbles you slowly, trailing up your body with his sharp, pointy teeth, leaving a dotted trail of love bites all over your body from your thighs to your neck. murmurs of quiet praise vibrates across your flesh, and while you can't say these are kisses when you asked him for kisses and cuddles, these feel so much more intimate. sacred. you're scared to touch him and pull him closer, but ruggie knows, ruggie always know, and his lips meet yours once, twice, thrice, and you feel him smirk against you.

a/n: ily too, inky!! <3 i hope you're feeling much better now, and have a good day <3 note: became mildly suggestive, somehow. uhhhhhhhh

word count: 155 words

Concierge please, I was going to visit Disneyland with my dad and little sister, but then the pandemic struck and I was stuck at home. We’re are planning it for later this year though :) I will forever be a child at heart.

Male preference please

Thank you!!

Thank you for seeking assistance from our concierge, we hope our service lives up to your expectations...

As the few single, childless person on your company trip, you had been swiftly assigned the task to look after your colleagues’ kids while the adults try their luck (and mostly failing their luck) in the casino.

You were bored out of your mind as you waited for the kids outside of the playground and that was when you met Haiba Lev, who had attracted a good amount of kids around him because of how eye catching he was among the crowd with his height.

You watched in concern when a kid tried to hold onto his extended arm like a monkey bar but he only seemed to be entertained by their antics. Laughing and blending into the group of kids perfectly fine as they started to climb onto him. You recognised one of the kids in the crowd to be the one you were supposed to be watching over and immediately grew alerted only to see the kid saying something into the guy’s ear on their top toes.

You had no idea what the kid had said to him but he started waving at your direction out of nowhere, with a smile so bright that you couldn’t help but wave back meekly.

(He came up and asked for you number later, because apparently the kid told him you didn’t have a boyfriend but you want one so he should be your boyfriend.)

Thank you for staying with us at the Secondhand Hotels & Resorts^^

"A LITTLE COMPANY" Pairing: Sakusa x Fem!Reader

Rating/Warnings: T for Teen

Word Count: 2.3k

Summary: You don't know why Sakusa asked to walk you home. Until you do, of course.

Note: Awkwardness, fluff. I literally have no idea what this is. This is NOT the fake-dating fic I was writing (someday I'll post that). Please don't ask me what the plot or point is, I don't know. Maybe I'll know after my finals, xoxo.

Somehow, Sakusa Kiyoomi is in your living room. You’re in your kitchen, putting a kettle on for tea, trying not to watch him. Sakusa makes your tiny, Tokyo living room look even smaller. He’s an impossible presence; he towers, he looms. In the dimmed lighting, in his black shirt and black pants, he’s like a shadow from another world. Tall, stately, sharp with beauty. He could almost be intimidating save for the fact that he seems positively enchanted by every little thing in the room.

The magazines on your coffee table are picked up, flipped through, placed back down in a neat pile. He walks over to your bookshelf and tilts his head to read the spines —he smiles (just barely) like every title and author name tells him a little secret about you. He moves to the picture frames you’ve hung on your wall of family, of friends. There’s one from when you were seven, at the beach. He straightens the edge of that one and turns to you with a softened expression.

That softness is as disarming as the shape of him in your home. You’ve only ever known him with serious eyes, those dark eyes that never let anything on. Usually, his mouth is covered with a disposable mask. Tonight, the mask is tucked into his pocket as he examines all the details of your décor. He keeps sending small, hesitant smiles your way. You keep busying yourself with pushing your mug back and forth on the counter, waiting for the water to boil.

The thing is, you aren’t exactly sure why he’s here. You’ve never been terribly close to Sakusa, unlike the rest of the MSBY Jackal team; Hinata, whom you share classes with, Atsumu, who had quickly roped you into being his wing-woman/drinking buddy, Bokuto, whom you shared so many hours of laughter with…Sakusa had always been polite (almost to a fault) and you had always been kind in return, but it had never extended past that. Until tonight, when he had offered to walk you home after a celebratory, post-match dinner.

You had gone to the dinner on a whim, and you had agreed to let him walk you home on a whim, and you had invited him up, thoughtlessly, on a whim. Why? You don’t know. He had been standing under a streetlight, curls over his forehead, a look in his eyes and the words had tumbled out. Do you want to come up? The fact that half his face had been masked only made the surprise in his eyes that much more evident.

And now he’s here, lifting up your throw blanket and folding it into a neat square before settling it back down onto the couch. He looks up and catches you watching him.

“Sorry,” he says.

You shake your head. “I’m the one that’s sorry. My place is a mess.”

“A little pigsty,” he agrees. You don’t have a chance to be offended before his impassive expression transforms into a secret, sly smile. And then you grow flushed. He’s teasing you, you realize. That’s new. You let out a huff of a laugh and shake your head.

“Earl grey? Mint? Chamomile?” you ask, turning to rifle through your cabinet. You hear a couple steps and when you close the cabinet, he’s in the kitchen with you, just a couple feet away. Suddenly your kitchen feels half its size. He fills up every square footage with his subtle energy. What it is exactly, you can’t place. There’s thin line of thrill, threading its way through you. It’s almost nerves, almost awkwardness. Almost excitement. It’s almost definitely the three glasses of sake you had over dinner. When was the last time a man —basically a stranger— was in your apartment? You try not to think too hard about it.

“Chamomile,” he says.

“What?”

“The tea. You asked what I wanted. Chamomile.” His smile is gone, but you can still sense a playfulness to his words. It’s so unlike the Sakusa you know (or barely know). Your mind is still trying to catch up with the image of him smiling at your framed photos.

“Chamomile,” you say. “Great.” You fumble over the tea bag package for a shamefully long time before dropping it into a mug for him. When you pour, the water sloshes onto your counter. Sakusa’s there with a rag, wiping, before you can even move.

You’re amused. “I’m a terrible hostess, inviting someone over just to have them wipe my tables and stack my magazines.”

Sakusa places the rag by your sink and doesn’t say anything. Awkwardly, you take a sip from your tea. It’s far too hot, but you furiously blink away the sting of tears.

“Uhm, do you want to sit, or—”

“Is that you in that picture?”

You stare at him. “Sorry?”

He nods vaguely at one of your living room walls. “The little girl at the beach. It’s you, right?”

You’re embarrassed for no reason. “No. Well, yeah. It is,” you let out a little laugh. “I don’t know why I said that. Yes, that’s me.”

“It’s a cute picture.”

The word cute clangs through you, through the room. Somehow you spill another slosh of tea onto your counter. “I’m a fucking mess tonight,” you mumble. You reach for the cloth again. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

Sakusa’s long arm snatches the cloth before you can, wiping away the spill. “You’re fine. I’m nervous too,” he says.

“You are?” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. His gaze flickers away and back.

“Thanks for the tea,” he says instead of replying. He’s so perfectly polite you suddenly remember your manners.

“Well,” you say. “Do you want to sit? On the couch?”

And so, somehow, Sakusa Kiyoomi is on your couch. He takes one opposite end, pressed right against the arm rest, and you take the other. You both take small sips from your tea, in silence.

“Congats on the win, by the way,” you say, just to speak.

“Thank you.” A pause. “I didn’t see you in the crowd.”

“Were you looking for me?” you fire back, quick, like you might with the other boys. Sakusa stiffens in his seat and you immediately regret it. You have no idea how to talk to this man. You wince, sheepish. “I was working,” you say. “Shōyō gave me the full play-by-play after, though.”

Sakusa nods. You take another long sip from your tea. He says, “you should come to the next one.” He chews his lip. “And yes.”

You tilt you head. “Yes?”

There are two splotches of red on the height of his cheekbones. I’m nervous too, he had said. In wonderment, you see it now. It makes the strangeness of his presence in your home even stranger. Your awkwardness, his nerves. You don’t understand why he offered to walk you home, but you’re beginning to. You’re beginning to understand why you asked him up.

“Yes,” he says again, softly, “I was looking for you.”

“Oh.” You aren’t sure what to do with that. You aren’t sure what to do with your hands, suddenly, or with your eyes. You put your mug down on the coffee table and then pick it up when your hands feel too empty. But then your hold your mug and your hands feel too full, and the way Sakusa is not looking at you makes you think that you’ll need your hands for something. You’ll need to be ready with waiting hands. You put your mug down again. “Are you —ah, never mind.”

Sakusa puts his mug down too. “What?” The way he says the word is almost eager.

You shake your head. “Do you want to watch a movie? Or maybe order food, or…?”

He leans back into your cushions. “We just ate.”

Your waiting hands are restless in your lap. “So…a movie? Or do you have to get going?”

“No,” Sakusa says.

“To the movie or to you leaving?”

He’s having trouble keeping his eyes on your eyes. “To both.”

“Oh,” you say. You crack a wry smile. “Then I’m all out of good ideas.”

“No you’re not.”

You furrow your brows. Sakusa looks at you. “Sakusa-san—”

“Kiyoomi. Please, just call me Kiyoomi.”

You hesitate. “Kiyoomi,” you say, after a moment. You say his name slow, feeling the syllables out. His face softens, goes shy.

“Yes?” And then he says your name in return, just as feeling. You feel your whole face go hot.

“Are you—” you break off, stuttering a laugh. “Are you flirting with me? Because I really can’t tell.” You can’t believe how bold you’re being with him. But then maybe it’s not so bold. He had asked to walk you home. You had asked for him to come up.

He looks at you again and you know, now, the look in his eyes. It’s the same look he had under the streetlight. It’s the same look, you realize with a jolt, that he’s had for a long, long time, looking at you. Only as you say his name, and he says yours, can you place the name for this moment in time.

“Yes,” he says again. The word is so firm you barely catch the trembling edge of it. “I’m flirting with you.”

“Why,” you breathe out, carelessly. You ought to write a book on courtship.

His mouth quirks, his ears go pink. He tries to look at you like he’s a teacher and he expected better of you, but he’s too nervous to pull it off. “Why did you invite me up?”

“I think I want to,” you fumble. “I think I want to know who you are, I guess.”

You notice you’ve moved away from the edge of the couch. He has, too. Sakusa swallows. “Then we want the same thing.”

You know what this means. It’s been a while, but you haven’t forgotten all the cues. You lean in, on a whim. Your waiting hands move to clasp his, and it turns out his hands have been waiting, too. They’re warm, long fingers encircling yours. He tilts his chin down and you tilt your chin up, to make it easy. You can feel him exhale through his nose. You’re so close. “Do we?” you ask, trying on something low and sultry. You place a hand on his thigh, perilously high. As close as you are, you can’t see Sakusa smile, but you watch the corner of his left eye crinkle.

“Cute,” he whispers, almost to himself. You close your eyes and wait. Then, your eyes are startled back open. Sakusa presses his lips on the tip of your nose, lingering for only a second before pulling back. With his index finger, he taps where he kissed.

You’re blinking at the chasteness of his kiss, at his quick retreat. He stands, abrupt, and you blink at that too, stunned. What? you mouth to yourself. You can’t pin this man down for the life of you.

“Not tonight,” he says, seeing the confusion on your face. Sakusa looks smug, or content, considerably less nervous. Somehow, this entire exchange has pleased him. You shake your head slowly.

“So…we don’t want the same thing?” You’re embarrassed at how shamelessly disappointed you sound. You hadn’t even known that you had wanted it, and now you can’t believe you can’t have it.

“Trust me,” he sighs, “we do. I hope. Just not tonight.”

You don’t know if it would be better to stand or stay sitting. “I’m…okay, then. Uh, sorry, I’m just a little confused.”

Sakusa grabs his mask from his pants pocket and loops it around his ears. He leaves it pulled down around his chin so that you can see his smiling mouth. “I’m not someone who rushes anything,” he says. “This isn’t…something I want to rush. Like that.”

“Oh,” you say, for the third time that night. You’re really on a roll. You wonder how long he’s been looking for you in crowds. You wonder how long he’s been waiting to walk you home. Sakusa must see the line of thought in your eyes because he presses his mouth together into a tight line. “Oh,” you say, something unfolding within you. “Oh, you like me.” You’re impossible.

Sakusa turns his face from you, but not before you catch his expression. You think you’ll remember that look on his face for a long, long time. “You’re so…” he trails, half amused, half annoyed.

You don’t realize how wide you’re grinning until you feel your cheeks hurt. “What? I’m so what?” There are stars spinning in your chest.

“Thanks for the tea,” he says, firm. He’s moving towards your door. You stand, you follow, giddy with something new.

“Thanks for walking me home.” You trail him right to the entrance. Sakusa holds the doorknob and then pauses. He places a hand on the frame and then stops. You watch the back of him, the slight turn of his head as he tries to peer over his shoulder at you. You’re practically buzzing out of your skin at your newfound revelation.

He turns, unexpectedly. He presses his back against the door. “Tomorrow,” he says.

“Tomorrow?” you ask. But you know. You know.

Sakusa huffs, starting to pull his mask up over his face.

“Kiyoomi,” you say, which has the desired effect. He stops. “Wait.” You take the long step towards his and before you can psych yourself out with your own brazenness, you tiptoe to peck the tip of his nose. You hear his sharp inhale. “Now we’re even,” you say, bright.

“Sure,” he manages. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say. Then you reach around and open the door for him.

Sakusa pulls his mask up, but it doesn’t matter. You can still see his smile.

ive never played an otome game in my life im just here for character designs