The Woes Of The Witch Of The Wastes (Howl's Moving Castle AU)
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.
.
.
More Posts from Sad-sie and Others
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 😅)
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^^
i’m just thinking about akaashi
maybe i’m thinking too hard… gaahhhhh i love him. anyways
akaashi who never outright laughs, but he lets out a quick exhale and scrunches his nose up. if it’s really funny you might get a soft chuckle.
akaashi who gives you a deadpan look every time you say something dumb. he makes a sarcastic jab at your intelligence and ruffles your hair while doing it.
akaashi who is such a gentleman, but in the most subtle way. he isn’t one for pda, but he’ll fix your messy hair. he isn’t overly protective, but he will put himself between you and any possible threat. when he’s around, you will never pay for anything. ever. if you tell him anything, no matter how insignificant, he will remember it for the rest of his life.
akaashi who is so intelligent and thoughtful. when you’re around him you stop thinking, simply because he thinks enough for the both of you. he doesn’t mind, he likes that you have so much confidence in him.
akaashi who carries a bag with him at all times. he has a little navy blue cross-body pouch with a cream colored strap. it’s small and modest, with a small daisy pin that bokuto gave him. bokuto found it on the ground. he carries everyday items like his wallet, chapstick, and hand sanitizer. but he also carries around items that he knows you might need like pads, hair ties, and even a comb.
akaashi who opens his arms for you to run into. it’s not demanding, but it’s such a sweet invitation. when he first did this, he did not expect you to smush your face straight into his chest and squeeze the air from his lungs. but with you, anything is game really.
akaashi who crosses his arms and leans against the doorframe, just watching you. akaashi who rubs your hips while kissing you. akaashi who lets out high pitched whines when he….stretches. akaashi who narrows his eyes when he gets jealous, which happens surprisingly often. akaashi who, when cuddling, just puts his face in the crook of your neck and breathes you in. he grumbles when you complain about his breath tickling your neck. and god forbid you try to move him away. he’ll grab your wrists and give you a sharp, “cut it out. i’m not moving.” oh my god. i just know he knows how hot he is. god.
Pride & Prejudice: A TWSTed AU
The Rose Red Tyrant: R. Rosehearts
Introduction, or pick another route!
Riddle x GN Reader(they/them)
Warnings: Pride and Prejudice-level angst, Riddle-typical anger, Riddle insults you Darcy-style (he doesn’t mean it I promise <3)
———
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THOUGHT THE VARNISH WAS PAINT?!”
Today was supposed to be an enjoyable unbirthday party. A party thrown for you, according to your tastes.
Riddle had triple and quadruple checked what your favorite desserts and pastries were, and relayed them to Trey. Cater was handling the table settings, and (despite his prior doubts) Ace and Deuce were taking care of the flamingos and hedgehogs for the croquet match. Everything was going to be perfect in accordance with the Queen’s and his standards. It was supposed to be splendid. Supposed to be.
And the roses were to be painted in (favorite color) and red. The richest, most vibrant (color) and the deepest ruby red, selfishly representing Riddle and You. This was supposed to be the unbirthday party that would charm you. But now?
Everything was perfect except the rose bushes, which were now in varying shades of pink and (color) after they’d dried from the varnish that the first years used. Wood varnish! That dried transparent! Not paint!
“We’re sorry Housewarden Rosehearts!” The first years yelled, hands clasped as they pleaded, “It was an accident!”
“THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!” At Riddle’s words, a sudden chill ran through everyone. Sure, there’d been a few times when the dorm leader snapped at everyone, and reminded them that even though he’d been changed for the better (and less angry), he was still himself. And sometimes, the angry Riddle pre-overblot made itself known.
But this time, it was as if the overblot never happened and he was still tyrannical as before.
“This,” he seethed, face deepening to scarlet and eyebrows pulling into a ‘v’ shape. “Is a disgrace. I instructed you to paint the roses red and (color). And what did you do?” His arm snapped up to point at the rose bushes, “YOU USED VARNISH! THEY’RE THE WRONG COLOR! THEY ARE RUINED!”
The first years shrank back. With all the yelling, it was impossible to not attract the attention of everyone around them, and Trey was all but running towards the scene when he finally overheard Riddle through the Heartslabyul kitchen walls.
Even you heard it, as you and Grim ambled on the path to Heartslabyul. “Hehe, I’ve been hungry since last week waitin’ for this party!” Grim cackled, “what do ya think Trey’s cooking? Strawberry tarts, chocolate cupcakes, crème brûlée?!” His voice went up in excitement, eyes lighting up. You laughed, “I guess we’ll see when we get there, Grim!” The two of you stopped when you heard yelling from within the rose maze. “Oh boy, is Riddle yellin’ again? I don’t wanna get collared,” Grim sulked, and you scooped him up to quiet him. “Hush, I want to see what’s happening,” you whispered and peeked around the corner.
“This unbirthday party is RUINED BECAUSE OF YOUR INSOLENCE! YOU’RE LUCKY THE PREFECT DIDN’T SEE THIS!” Riddle yelled, and you watched as Trey grabbed his arm from behind, “Riddle, it’s fine! The roses are fi-“ Riddle’s face was the darkest red you’d ever seen, and somehow his hair was standing up with rage? Riddle brandished his other arm, “OFF WITH YOUR-“
Grim squirmed in your arms and you lost your balance. You both tumbled into the open grass, right in front of Riddle, Trey, and the poor first years that looked like they were about to jump out of their skins. Riddle’s spell stopped, and his eyes widened when he met yours. “Prefect,” he said, uncharacteristically charming, given that he was about to behead about five students. “You’re here.”
He took a step towards you to help you up, but you picked Grim up and hugged him to your chest, scrambling upright. Something like hurt flashed in Riddle’s eyes. You looked around wildly, the tension becoming thick and unbearable. What the hell just happened?
You noted that the rose trees were…strangely more colorful than usual. Instead of the usual red and white, they were in varying shades of red, ranging from a light blush to a deep pink. They were also in (color), in all shades. They really did look pretty, but they don’t match the Queen’s rules, sadly. You could piece together why Riddle was mad now.
You cleared your throat uncomfortably, realizing everyone was staring at you now. “The- the roses look very pretty,” you wavered, forcing a smile on your face. Riddle’s face wasn’t as red now, and he seemed calmer at your words. “Yes, they’re lovely, aren’t they?” He replied, and the first years replied in unison “yes, sir!” Riddle shot them a look, and they fell silent. Then he turned back to you with a charming smile, smoothing his hair and holding out his other hand to you. “Now, shall we begin the party?”
———
As you headed back to Ramshackle, you thought about what happened earlier. Grim was as happy as a clam, holding the leftover (favorite dessert) that Trey allowed him to take back, but you were unsettled. It was safe to say that it was the weirdest unbirthday party you’d attended yet.
After you caught Riddle mid-collaring, everyone settled into a tense tea party. You were seated to the left of Riddle this time (unusual, since you’d normally sit with Ace and Deuce). The dorm leader himself even served you a slice of cherry tart, ears red. It was like his entire body was tense, and every once in a while, Trey had to mutter something reassuringly to him so he’d relax a bit.
But it kept happening every so often, from when Ace spilled brown tea over the pristine white tablecloth, to when Deuce put his whining hedgehog on the table to calm it down, to finally croquet time when the flamingos refused to stay still to hit the hedgehogs through the hoops.
Needless to say, if the tension wasn’t there, you would’ve thought it a normal, hectic, chaotic unbirthday party. As you and Grim headed into Ramshackle to wind down, you couldn’t shake off the way that everyone stared at you during the party. Odd to say the least, but hey, you got some of Trey’s pastries out of it. Win-win!
Back at Heartslabyul, Riddle crossed his arms at Trey and Cater, frowning. At least he isn’t yelling, Trey thought, adjusting his glasses. That’s good.
“I simply wanted the Prefect to have an enjoyable unbirthday party. There’s nothing wrong with me throwing a party in their honor and to their tastes,” Riddle said dismissively. “Well,” Trey began carefully, “it’s not every unbirthday party that you ensure their favorite desserts are there…”
Riddle tapped his foot impatiently. “Yes?”
“And seat them next to you.”
“And?”
Cater cut in, “the seat next to you goes to your second-in-command or the King of Hearts!” Trey stared at Cater without emotion. “What? Cay-cay reads the Queen’s rules when he feels like it!” To himself, he muttered “and it wasn’t like Riddle was gonna admit it, anyway…”
Riddle pinched the bridge of his nose. “Your point is?” Trey sighed. “You knew this, didn’t you? You wanted this unbirthday party to be different, right?”
Riddle grew quiet. So Trey did know. His vice dorm leader chuckled softly, fixing his glasses. “Well, since today didn’t go as… intended,” he said tactfully, Cater giving him a wide eyed look. “Perhaps you could… invite the Prefect out on a different outing?” “A date!” Cater said cheerfully as Riddle went pink in the face. Riddle thought aloud, “hmmm…”
———
“A… picnic?” You asked, frowning at Riddle, who fiddled with a basket bashfully. “This is a little sudden…”
You were back at Ramshackle alone. Earlier today, Grim was whisked off by Ace and Deuce, who wouldn’t give you a clear reason why they were taking Grim with them, and not you. “It’s ‘cause… Trey needs Grim to taste test his desserts!” Deuce said, picking Grim off the ground before he could protest. The cat monster wasn’t even bothered by this, “really?! Yes! Trey’s the best!”
When you tried to follow, Ace stopped you. “He just wanted Grim! Sorry, Prefect.” Ace suddenly grinned devilishly, “you won’t be lonely for too long, though!” The three of them slammed the door before you could react, and you slumped onto the dusty couch. Hey, at least if you were going to be alone, you could read that weird Prejudice and Pride book, which was surprisingly getting pretty good.
When you’d heard a knock on the front door about an hour later, you’d assumed that Grim was back, here to gloat and grin over his delicious pastry-tasting. You weren’t expecting an uncharacteristically shy Riddle holding a picnic basket, dressed casually in a red blazer and black button down, hair tucked behind one ear reminiscent of his groom-outfit from that time Eliza wanted to marry Idia. He looked so nice, and here you were, still decked out in your pajamas from last night.
Riddle cleared his throat awkwardly. “Yes. I found a clearing nearby, I thought we could both… hang out?” he tried to smile casually, the words feeling strange. Your brow furrowed, but you decided not to question it. He’s acting odd. Still, it’d be nice to get out of the dorm. “…Alright, just let me change.”
After changing into a nice, picnic-appropriate outfit that would make Crewel proud of your glow up, you walked with Riddle. To your surprise, a picnic blanket was already laid out, held down by a tri-candelabra. So Riddle planned this?
“What’s this for?” You asked suddenly as you both sat down. Riddle became tense, haltingly responding “is it strange to want to… do this?” He handed you a small plate, and passed a mini dessert onto it. “It’s nice, but…” You glanced at your dessert, “I thought Trey needed these?” Riddle looked confused. “What?”
“Ace and Deuce took Grim to taste-test stuff for Trey. Shouldn’t you be there? Since you’re the Housewarden and all.” Riddle fumbled his slice of tart. “…Trey can handle it without me. Now, is your dessert to your liking?”
The two of you chatted lightly, although it was still weird to you that Riddle wanted to have this picnic with just you. He seemed to constantly be on the verge of saying something, but holding it back, and instead asking you small things like how was your day? how has alchemy been? Once or twice, he repeated the same question, until finally you’d had enough of this little eggshell dance.
“Riddle, what is this all about?” By now you were on your seventh dessert. Riddle started at your suddenness, fork clattering onto the saucer, eyes wide. He hurriedly put it down and grabbed your hands urgently in his, eyes not quite meeting yours. He took a deep breath.
“You were a nuisance when we first met,” he began, clasping your hands. “And to be honest, you weren’t really anything impressive. You weren’t even sorted into a dorm, and you don’t have any magical talent at all, but I’m willing to overlook that now. And…” he looked you in the eye, grasping your hand delicately, rubbing his thumb over yours.
“You, Ace, and Deuce caused me quite the headache, but in the end, I grew to appreciate your opinion. You don’t have the same experience as anyone else here, and I… I grew to admire that about you,” he said matter-of-factly, becoming confident. “And I know your circumstances aren’t the best, given that you have no connections here, and-“
You blanked, tuning him out in shock. So this is what the picnic was all about. Was this Heartslabyul’s way of trying to get their Housewarden to warm up to you? To become used to your presence? Did Trey or your friends put Riddle up to this? You started laughing dryly, cutting Riddle off.
“…if I’m such a nuisance, then you probably didn’t even want to go on this stupid picnic.” You kicked the blanket edge with your foot, anger coursing in your heart. “And I guess I’m only ever going to be a trouble-causing magicless prefect. Who am I compared to the great Housewarden Rosehearts anyway?!” You scoffed, tears stinging your eyes.
His eyes widened, and he stood, face burning red with embarrassment. Unfortunately, you thought he was now angry at you. “With your temper and your arrogance, there’s no way we could work.”
“I-!” Riddle clenched his hands, steeling himself. He screwed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth in frustration. Then, he yelled “I’m asking your permission to court you!”
The silence was deafening. You stared at him, incredulous. Was this a joke? Did he just pity you or something? He just insulted you, and now he wants to ‘court’ you? “Is this your idea of a joke, Riddle?!”
You took a deep breath, eyes watery. “You are the last person I would date in this school, and I’m convinced that I’m the last person you could ever want.”
With that, you turned on your heel and marched yourself back to Ramshackle, bracing yourself for a loud off with your head!, but you were surprised that it never came.
If you’d looked back, you would’ve seen Riddle with a completely crushed expression.
Unknown to both of you, in a tree not too far behind, a pair of purple ears, golden eyes, and a tail curled, watching the scene unfold.
———
Heartslabyul was quiet. Too quiet.
The entire dorm felt tense each time Housewarden Rosehearts walked into the room, almost always accompanied by his Vice Housewarden who seemed to watch him like a hawk. Only him, Cater, Ace, and Deuce knew what had happened.
That day, after you stormed away from the picnic, he watched you leave, too shocked by what just happened. There weren’t many people who could shock him, both before and after his overblot. It seems you can still surprise him after all, he thought bitterly as he carried himself back to the dorm, in a foul mood. His eyes were watery, but he didn’t dare start crying. This was pointless, to cry would be pointless. He could hear his mother’s words already - “love is useless and beneath you. It will only weigh you down and distract you from your studies. No one is your equal match. No one is like you.” Still, he didn’t want anyone else, not when you were here.
Too wrapped up in his thoughts, he didn’t see the floating head bobbing next to him. “Nya~ what’s this?” Chen’ya leaned languidly next to Riddle, smiling. “What has our red queenie in such a bind?~” “Go away, Chen’ya,” Riddle grumbled, rubbing his eyes roughly with his sleeve. He could see the kitchen lights on through the window. He wasn’t ready to see Heartslabyul yet.
“Hmm?~” Chen’ya’s body materialized and he angled his head at Riddle. “You seem tense~ not the purrrrfect prosy rose you normally are~” He stared at Riddle. “I heard some mews from Trey that you had your own little rosie~ That little confession earlier didn’t go as planned, hm?”
Riddle flushed with embarrassment, frowning. “Keep your voice down!-“ “With all that yelling they’ll hear you, not meow~” Chen’ya regarded Riddle with a small mischievous look, “You kneow, your rosie may think you don’t like them with all those insults you said. Trey seemed worried about that~”
Riddle pouted, this is so unbecoming of a Housewarden. “The prefect didn’t believe me! Why would they not believe me! I wasn’t insulting them.” “Nya~ then make them believe you!” Chen’ya grinned at Riddle, giggling as he disappeared into thin air. Chen’ya’s still confusing as ever. But still, perhaps he has a point. By then, Trey had come outside to look for the rogue RSA student, starting when he saw Riddle. “How did it go?,” he asked, immediately regretting it when he saw Riddle considerably Prefect-less with a frown on his face.
Trey was surprised when Riddle seemed thoughtful, rather than upset. Perhaps the Prefect was right. Maybe Chen’ya was right, Riddle thought to himself. The Housewarden looked up at Trey, grey eyes steeling in determination. “Trey, I need to take care of a few things.”
———
A few weeks passed and both you and Riddle generally stayed out of each other’s orbit, except for Ace and Deuce, who tried to be a decent common ground. Still, the unbirthday parties seemed a bit less lively, but in any case Housewarden Rosehearts was back to the nicer ‘normal.’ No outbursts, no yelling, no anger - just a nice, pleasant party without the Prefect.
Your friends were pretty much as shocked as you were when you told them what happened. Your Heartslabyul friends reacted as well as you would’ve expected. “The Housewarden’s gonna kill us,” Ace lamented while Deuce just looked shell-shocked. “Planning that took forever, and Riddle kept asking us over and over what you liked, and you just said he never had a chance?! You basically killed him!”
You were exasperated by now. “Look, Riddle doesn’t respect me, he made that very clear! He literally said that I was a headache and talentless!” Still, they didn’t miss what you said after that when you went back to your food, “but I didn’t say he never had a chance.”
Ace and Deuce tried to invite you over to the unbirthday parties, but you resisted the sweet temptation of Trey’s pastries, Carter’s fun Magicam posts, and even Grim’s whines to go. It wasn’t like you were stopping Grim from going, but he just didn’t want to go without you. In any case, you found your days considerably off with your head! free, and no one around school seemed to bear a collar. You didn’t even notice it until Ace brought it up.
“Y’know Prefect, Riddle’s been a lot more relaxed lately,” he said slyly. You stopped eating your pasta, and gave him a suspicious look. “Ace, seriously? You agreed you wouldn’t bring it up,” Deuce frowned, glancing at you. You stopped and thought about it. You hadn’t seen too many collars around school lately. “Still, that doesn’t mean his temper’s gone,” you dismissed him.
Later that day, after club duties, you frowned, checking your phone texts. Seriously? No one’s seen Grim anywhere? It was getting late and you’d even asked the ghosts to help you search for him. Finally, you sighed and trudged over to the library, remembering that Grim had been struggling with yet another alchemy assignment. Maybe he’s found someone to tutor him or whatever.
You walked around the library, and then stopped in your tracks. What was Riddle doing there?
He was sitting down next to Grim, and quietly explaining the problems. Grim was frowning, clearly confused, and yet Riddle didn’t get frustrated at all, to your surprise. He’d just reexplain it, pointing at handmade drawings that you recognized were made by him, and ask Grim a few questions. Grim seemed to understand it better, and even looked relieved.
Color you surprised. This was…different than the Riddle you were used to. You supposed that even though Cater told you how Riddle helped him with learning spells, and Ace told you how Riddle was more patient, it was hard to believe. And yet now, it was right in front of you.
You moved to get closer to them, but your hand knocked over a stray book on the end of the shelf. You cringed and tried to grab it, but it loudly thudded against the floor. The two of them turned around, and you gave them a wide-eyed look. “Grim, I… I was looking for you.” The silence was so loud. Riddle stared at you while Grim grinned at you, looking proud. “Nya, henchhuman! Guess who’s going to get the highest grade in alchemy!” He cheered, while Riddle gently hushed him. Gently. You stared at him, unblinking. What?
Riddle met your eyes. “Prefect,” he greeted formally, hands together. “I found Grim in the library, and thought I’d help him. He seems to understand the material better.” Grim didn’t dispute that, so it must’ve been true. “…thank you, Riddle. It means a lot,” you said, and it did. You didn’t always have enough time to help Grim out with assignments, and more often than not, his test scores brought yours down.
Riddle looked carefully at you, and said quietly as Grim gathered his work, “if you’d like, Prefect, I could help you as well. Professor Crewel says you’re one of his most hardworking students, but Ace mentioned that Trein’s test is coming up. I know you’re not from here, but I could help you study for the history test.” He looked at you earnestly, “only if you want it.”
You looked back at him, weighing your options as Grim hopped off the chair. “Okay.”
———
So this was weird.
Over the next few weeks, you and Riddle sort of… coexisted after that day in the library. And the two of you were back to normal-ish terms.
Every week, Riddle would tutor you on any subject in the rose garden. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t look forward to it - it was peaceful, and the two of you would sip tea while discussing your classes. Grim even came every once in a while to study with you, and your friends certainly seemed less tense with you and their Housewarden in good spirits.
That was the other thing you’d noticed, you thought with surprise. Ace really wasn’t just saying that - Riddle did seem to be more patient and less… behead-y.
You were able to observe everyone in Heartslabyul during this time. And everyone seemed much more relaxed compared to before. Even the same students he’d yelled at during that one fateful unbirthday party seemed more relaxed. Though everyone still abided by his authority, it didn’t seem out of fear anymore - it was out of genuine respect. And try as you might, you found yourself warming up to him too.
If his overblot was anything to go by, you knew it was hard for Riddle to accept change, and yet here he was, attempting to change for himself and everyone. And as great as it was, it scared you. Because you found yourself thinking about him constantly, finding reminders of him when you were in class (Riddle taught that to me) or your tea (Riddle recommended this blend) and even Grim eating tuna (Riddle would reprimand him for eating so sloppy).
It became increasingly obvious. You could deny it no longer. You fell in love with him, but it didn’t repulse you as much as you thought it would have. It felt good. Which is why you kept beating yourself up over what you told him at the picnic - anyone in their right mind would stop liking someone if they said what you did.
Which is why when you went over to the rose maze for this week’s study session, you were horribly nervous. You had a hard time talking to Riddle, and at some point even dropped your teacup onto the grass. As Riddle poured you a new cup, you struggled not to notice how concentrated and gentle his grey eyes were, the gracefulness of his movements. Damn, he even smelled nice too, what cologne was that-
When Riddle looked at you questioningly, you dove into your textbook and scribbled something or other rapidly, hoping he wouldn’t speak to you. If you’d looked up, you would’ve seen the soft smile he gave you, leaning gently on his elbow and admiring you. The two of you stayed like this, until a drop fell onto your notebook. You looked up in time to get a raindrop directly into your eye. “It’s-!”
“Quickly, gather your things!” You grabbed your textbook and papers, and made to dash to the dorm when Riddle grabbed your arm. “The dorm is too far, there’s a gazebo nearby. The rain should pass soon!” The two of you ran, Riddle leading you through the winding maze, until finally you made it to a wooden gazebo with roses climbing the pillars. You sat down heavily, while Riddle peeled off his now-wet uniform blazer. The two of you were silent, until you spoke.
“…thanks, Riddle,” you felt a little awkward thanking him now of all times. He looked confused, “for what?”
“Tutoring me. Being…here. Thank you,” you licked your lips. “I…” you trailed off. Great, you made it awkward now.
You both stayed in silence while the rain pattered around you until Riddle said quietly, “you know, I never thought of you as a joke. Never.” Your eyes widened, but Riddle didn’t look at you, shutting his eyes tightly. “And I really did want to court you.” He coughed, “date you. And if-“ his voice faltered, but he continued softly. “If you still feel the same way you did before then… I’ll leave you be. But I enjoy everything - your company, your heart… you. My feelings haven’t changed. If anything, I’ve fallen even deeper in love with you, prefect.”
Your eyes shone, and Riddle peeked through his bangs to see your expression. You couldn’t contain yourself anymore, and you threw yourself at him. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing his face over and over again while his eyes widened, and his arms went around your waist to stabilize you. You pulled back slightly, eyes glimmering, and a small smile grew on Riddle’s face as he moved to kiss you properly. Weeks and months of nervousness melted away from you both, and you stayed in each others arms, the sounds of murmuring and kissing each other breaking through the rain.
And as the sunlight began breaking through the clouds, you both knew that something new was just beginning. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.
~END
—————
Notes: this took longer than I thought it would but after many days of overthinking, here’s the first part :D
Thanks for reading, lmk if anyone wants to be added to the taglist!~ Take care, shrimpies!!
Taglist: @cerisescherries, @eclecticprincecollector, @ars-tral, @thehollowwriter, @twst-eeps, @casperandcats, @ttokkisbee, @mitsuriswaifu, @parad-ice-lostandfound,
@sad-sie, @moyo5653,
(If your name is in bold, it means I wasn’t able to tag you properly 😅
Edit: idk what’s going on with the tags and why I can’t tag some users?? Is this normal????)
Hello! Congrats on the milestone you deserve it!! Can I have a Deep Spring please? With male preferences.
Fav historical period is the Victorian Era, I like those big dresses
I love fall my allergies act up less and it’s not to cold :D
Thank you!!
hello hello thank you and coming right up🥰🥰
˚｡⋆.deep spring: for sad-sie
in the face of science and ingenuity of mankind, the soft foliages of fall and their colourful laces leads way to an era of grandness and dark prestige. i think this kind of strength coupled with the fragility of society beneath the surface matches v well with ushijima wakatoshi!
thank you for coming to the spring tea session🍵🌸
In the moonlight
summary; you give akaashi the courage he needs
♡ pairing; a.keiji x gn!reader
♡ genre; angst, fluff, friends to lovers
♡ w.c; 856
♡ warnings; cursing, drinking
a/n; this made me so soft </3 find me a man like akaashi pls
*this fic is a part of my ‘five ways to say i love you’ mini-series. check out the other stories here!
“They don’t like me.”
He says it so assuredly that you almost believe him. But it’s Akaashi Keiji you’re talking to, so you know it’s a big fat lie. He reconsiders his words then shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. They like me but they don’t like me the way I want them to.”
You nod and take a large gulp of your gin and tonic. “How are you so sure?”
He looks at you over the rim of his glasses, cheeks so pink you wonder if they’re hot to the touch. You really want to find out. “I just do,” he sighs, head lolling forward. “Or maybe they’re just as stupid as they say they are.” Again, you bob your head and drink.
“Hey, maybe. I know I can be.”
Akaashi gives you a wry smile. “Yeah, you really can.”
The party seems so far away even though it’s going on right behind you. The sliding glass door does well to block out most of the noise, though you can vaguely hear that one song that’s been stuck in your mind and the excited shouts of Bokuto and Konoha. You lean over the porch railing, your red solo cup dangling between your unsteady fingers.
“Keiji—” his hand twitches— “you deserve so much,” you sigh. “More than you think you do.”
“What makes you think I don’t know what I deserve?”
He chuckles at the sharp look you give him. ”Okay, okay. Point taken.”
“You deserve the world.” The gin doesn’t burn the same way the words do. “And if they can’t see how amazing you are, then fuck them.”
He’s silent as you drain the last of your drink and you blink furiously at the moon. “Tell me more.” His voice is soft yet you shiver at the quiet command. You can’t look at him as you continue.
“You’re brilliant, so bright like the moon,” you say, tilting your head back and closing your eyes. “You’re attentive. You make sure Bokuto always has a snack before practice—“
“Because he won’t stop whining about how hungry he is when it’s over—“
“You’re compassionate. You’re willing to help Kuroo when he needs tutoring…”
“He needs all the help he can get honestly—“
Akaashi’s eyes widen as you press a digit to his lips, a smile plays on yours.
“You’re humble,” you whisper. “Kind, patient, honest to a fault—“ He laughs at that one, grabbing your hand to remove it from his mouth and holds it against his chest. “You’re reliable. You give so much of yourself away and never ask for anything in return, even though Bo and I have told you time and time again that it’s okay to need someone, to let someone in—“
“You’re going on a tangent, love.” His touch is searing when he rearranges his hold on your wrist to intertwining your fingers. You stare at your interlocked hands and exhale. “And if they can’t see all these great qualities about you then they don’t deserve you.”
The upward curl of Akaashi’s plump lips is beautiful, painfully so. Under the silver light of the full moon, you can’t help but wonder how one can be this ethereal. Tendrils of inky black hair curl around his smooth skin, brushing along the thick fringe of lashes surrounding his cerulean eyes. The thin slope of his nose, the prominent shape of his cupid’s bow… Aphrodite would curse him out of pure jealousy, Selene would stop her chariot if only to marvel at his perfection. His crush, whoever they may be, would be an absolute fool to not want the man in front of you, the man who glimmers like stardust in the moonlight.
You blame your alcohol-addled brain for this one. “Y’know,” you wave your empty cup around, the last remnants of gin flying about. “You should, you should just kiss them! Grab their stupid face and plant a big wet one on them! Because if they’ve been this blind all this time, maybe they just need something more ‘in their face,’ y’know?”
It’s quiet, save for the music thumping behind you, as he contemplates your suggestion. Akaashi’s grip tightens when he leans a little closer to you. “That’s one way to go about it,” he muses while he drums his fingers along your skin. “It’s someone you know,” he says cautiously and your stomach dips. “Intimately. Would you still recommend I just go up and kiss them?”
You are a fool, an enormous idiot who is helplessly in love with stardust. “Why not? Life’s too short not to take risks.” You hope he doesn’t notice the way your voice cracks, the way your plastic cup crinkles under your shaky hold.
Akaashi hums. He lets go of your hand and you protest when he takes your cup. “Hey,” you say with a pout. “I was gonna get some more.” His lips quirk up on one side as he carefully balances the two cups on the railing.
“I’m just taking your advice.”
With one hand on your hip, and the other cupping the back of your neck, the man who glimmers like stardust kisses you.
eeeeehhh???? heartslabyul in cookie run!!?? waaaa??!! (I still haven't played cookie run lol)
also I revised caters design cuz i realized it didnt rlly make sence before lol
poll under cut
our twisted threads of fate
Pairing: Jamil Viper x gn!reader
Synopsis: When you finally meet your soulmate in Twisted Wonderland, you realise the bond is only one sided. He's your soulmate, but to him, you're just someone from another world.
Tags: soulmate au, pining, crushes, friends to lovers, canon divergence, spoilers for Ch2 and up, reader has a soulmate mark and cooks, bot proofread
Word count: 3.3k+
Notes: Wrote this fic in one night and it's basically my love letter to Jamil's character oop. This is Day 20 of the 30-day April event held by @twistedchatterboxed. So glad to be taking part in this event <3 Make sure to check out everyone's work too!
"So? Why are you asking about my accident?"
The moment the words left his lips, you could feel a strange feeling course through your veins. A warm, tingly sensation could be felt on your collarbone, as no doubt the words written there were reacting to the presence of the man sitting before you.
It had been terribly exhausting adapting to Twisted Wonderland, given how chaotic your new friends were and how incredibly run-down Ramshackle Dorm was. Not only were you now expected, to keep up with the curriculum of NRC, but also be the headmaster's errand-runner. Which brings you back to the current conversation.
After the numerous accidents that had befallen several promising players for the upcoming Spelldrive tournament, the headmaster requested, no, ordered you to investigate the suspicious circumstances. So here you are, after having investigated several students who had gotten injured, standing in the cafeteria with your friends, asking the second-year student what exactly happened during the incident in the kitchen.
What you didn't expect, however, was to find out that Jamil Viper, the person who got injured in said incident, was your soulmate.
Another joke fate played on you, was that soulmates didn't exist in Twisted Wonderland. They were nothing more than a trope in fiction, poetic devices used to dramatise romances. But for you and your world, finding your soulmate is something so tremendously precious, it's considered the best thing that could happen to someone. Most people had "hello" or "hey" written as their mark, you were fortunate that your mark was something so identifiable.
'So? Why are you asking about my accident?'
You had always hoped to find your soulmate, the one who would be your other half, only you didn't expect the bond to be one-sided.
You took a deep breath and try to compose yourself before meeting his charcoal eyes. "We're here at the headmage's behest."
Jamil hummed, crossing his arms and contemplating. "The headmage?" he mumbled quietly. "Huh... Well okay."
He continued recounting the events of the previous night, while Kalim interjected occasionally, eager to join the conversation. But you found yourself lost in Jamil's voice, smooth like honey, flowing with a baritone richness that sent shivers down your spine. His eyes, sharp and glinting with intensity when he was deep in thought, held your attention like a mesmerizing spell. The way his dark hair fell neatly, framing the right side of his face, added to his undeniable allure.
The thrumming sensation on your collarbone persisted, as if your soulmate mark was screaming at you to take action. And you wanted to. You wanted to tell him, tell him how much he means to you, but you knew that he wouldn't be able to understand or reciprocate.
"Because we're not talking about me here!" You're broken out of your trance as Jamil exclaimed, flustered by Kalim's words. From there, your focus is back on the new clue Jamil has given you, and with an inkling of who the culprit might be, you left the cafeteria with the group in search of a certain hyena.
Days turned into weeks as you got wrapped up in the shenanigans of one dorm after another. It was frustrating and draining, and it didn't help that you were also trying to balance everything while getting used to the strange land.
Having found yourself growing increasingly conscious of your spending habits, given Crowley’s tight budget for Ramshackle, you decided to start cooking dinner for yourself and Grim in the cafeteria kitchen. Crowley had graciously given you permission to use the school kitchen after you made very valid points about how unusable the Ramshackle kitchen was, while making you promise to keep your gremlin cat out of the kitchen for safety. And with Sam generously giving you discounts on groceries knowing your situation, you found yourself frequenting the kitchen. It was rather calming and helped you unwind after a stressful day.
It also helps that your soulmate also frequented the kitchen.
It all came as a shock when you discovered that he was personally in charge of preparing each meal for Kalim and testing for poison. It seemed so bizarre, so different from what you were used to. You had known that he was Kalim’s caretaker since they were children, but you couldn't fathom how he managed to handle everything as a student, let alone when he was younger. But like everything else in Twisted Wonderland, you learned to accept it. This wasn’t a fantasy novel where characters had tragic backstories for the sake of character development; this was their real life, and you couldn’t just impose your values on them.
Still, you can’t deny that Jamil working in the kitchen is a delightful sight. He moves with precision and grace, like it’s a dance he’s practised a thousand times before. You can see the passion in his eyes as he creates his culinary masterpieces. He takes pride in every dish he makes, and it shows in the way he carefully plates each one. You can tell that he's been doing this for a long time, and he's become quite skilled at it.
As he finishes up his dish, he offers you a taste, and it's impossible to not be impressed by the explosion of flavours in your mouth. You compliment him on his cooking skills, and he smiles, seeming genuinely pleased by your words. In return, you often let him taste your creations as well, and as you started exchanging compliments and criticisms with each other, a gentle friendship between the two of you started to form.
You’re not sure if it’s from the soulmate bond or your personal interest in him, but undeniably, you find yourself eagerly soaking up every piece of information you could find on Jamil like a parched sponge absorbing water after a long drought.
Every little bit of him makes your heart soar, like how despite his reserved demeanour, there's a quiet confidence about him that's hard to miss, how he handles unexpected situations with ease, or the glimpses of a mischievous glint in his eye when he thinks no one is looking, but you notice it easily because your attention is on him invariably. You adore how naturally he shows his care for others, including you: the tender hand he places on shelves or tables to prevent you from hitting your head when you get up, the kind cautionary warnings he gives you when you’re using a knife or cooking, his soothing touch full of patience as he takes care of your injuries when you’ve gotten too distracted by him.
Your heart yearns to see more of him, to learn every single thing about him.
You are deeply in love with him.
But the gravity of your soulmate bond wasn’t something you could tell him. You don't want to pressure him into feeling a certain way or risk changing the dynamic of your relationship, especially with his already long list of worries. So, you decide to simply keep it to yourself, content with the friendship the two of you currently have.
Jamil Viper found that fate was incredibly unfair.
Being born into a family of servitude, it was a necessary skill to be able to blend in with the crowd. While there had been many times when Jamil wished he could break free from the mould and show his true potential, it was ingrained in him to never outdo Kalim and to constantly keep his family's position in mind. He was used to living in the shadows, never drawing attention to himself.
So, when someone from another world began to show an overwhelming amount of interest in him, Jamil was taken aback.
Things started to change when he started cooking in the cafeteria kitchen with you. He had enjoyed taking his time and working without interruptions in the kitchen; it was a rare moment when he could be alone with his thoughts. And while that changed when you started showing up in the cafeteria kitchen more often, Jamil also found himself enjoying the small talk and banter that would occasionally happen between the two of you while cooking. He had been startled when you started talking to him and asking him questions about his life, but you seemed genuinely interested in getting to know him. It was a new feeling for him, and he didn't quite know how to respond.
He notices how you would watch him intently as he cooked, pleasantly surprised by your apparent admiration for his culinary skills. Your praises gave him the feeling that his efforts were truly acknowledged. He even found himself looking forward to the times when you would show up, excited to see what new recipes he could whip up with your assistance.
But what surprises him the most was that your attention is always on him. Even when other people are around, you seem to be looking at him, and it makes him feel seen in a way he never had before. He doesn't know why you were so interested in him, why you seem to support him no matter what, there to offer a kind word or a helping hand reassuringly. Without a doubt, he is grateful for your presence, but he couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more to your kindness than met the eye.
You are different from anyone else he has ever met. Coming from a different world, you don't care about his family's position or his connection to the Asim heir. You see him for who he is, and that makes him feel seen and appreciated.
Your attention had made him uncomfortable in the beginning, but now he can't deny that he likes it. He likes being noticed by you, being acknowledged, and appreciated for who he is.
It's not until one day that the truth hits him like a basketball to the face.
He's in love with you.
He yearns to spend the rest of his days making you happy, to create a future with you that was filled with love and warmth. He envisions days spent cooking together, the aroma of spices and flavours melding in the air as you laugh and savour each other's company. He finds himself craving your presence like a parched wanderer in a desert that craves water. He wants to hold your hand, to wrap his arms around you, to claim you as his own in a way that was both tender and possessive. His love for you has bloomed into a magnificent wildflower, bursting with vibrant colours and life, but also carrying a touch of greed. Like a protective vine, he curls around you, unwilling to let anyone come too close, fearing you'd wither in their presence.
He wants you to be his, desperately so.
But as much as he wants to express his feelings, he knew that it wasn’t the right time. The friendship that had blossomed between you two was something too precious; he didn't dare jeopardise his bond with the one person who made him feel like he mattered.
And so he keeps his feelings to himself and continued to come to the kitchen every day, cooking and chatting with you, content to just be near you, helping and caring for you in whatever way he could. Helping you wash the dishes, learning your favourite foods so he could make them for you, getting extra ingredients for you, he puts his mindfulness to full use when it comes to you. He cherishes the precious and fleeting moments you spend together, fearing the day you leave and go back to your original world.
One night, you walked into the kitchen looking troubled and lost in thought. Jamil couldn't help but notice something was amiss. You didn't even acknowledge his presence as you went straight to the fridge to grab some ingredients for cooking. Concerned, he speaks up. "Is everything okay?" he asks, "You look a bit troubled, is something bothering you today?"
You let out a heavy sigh and turned to face him. "Not really. I just couldn't fall asleep last night, so I'm a bit sleep deprived," you replied.
Jamil nodded in understanding. "I see. Hmm… I can brew tea that can help improve sleep quality. Would you like to try some?" he offered.
"Are you sure? I know you're very busy," you said, not wanting to be another burden on him.
A wry smile appeared on his face as he walked closer to you. "You're too considerate," he said as he playfully poked your forehead. "I have plenty of time to brew tea, so don't worry about it." He smiled as he started boiling water. "By the way, if you don't mind me asking, what’s on your mind? It’s unlike you to lose sleep unless something's bothering you."
You hesitated, knowing full well that he was what had kept you awake last night. While you wanted to be content with your current friendship, you suppose it was in your nature, given the soulmate bond, to be incredibly greedy. It was selfish of you to hope, but you yearned to be bonded to him like lovers were. "Well, it's a long story," you eventually answered.
"I don't mind listening. You can tell the story while I'm making the tea," he replied nonchalantly. "Just tell me whatever you’re comfortable with sharing."
Well, here goes nothing.
"Uhm... To start, have you ever heard of soulmates?"
Jamil thought for a bit before nodding. "I've heard of them, yes," he answered as he poured hot water into a teapot. "It's where two people are 'destined to be with' each other, right? I've heard of them before. Why do you ask?" he turned to face you with a curious expression.
You fidgeted with your hands, unsure of how to approach the subject. "It's just, in my world, they’re a very real thing." You took a deep breath and began to explain to Jamil about soulmates in your world—how it's believed that every person has a special bond with someone else, their soulmate, and that when they meet, they just know that they were meant to be together.
Jamil listened intently as you spoke, noticing the wistful look in your eyes as you talk about soulmates.
"At first, I wasn't sure about it either," you admitted. "But then... I met him."
Jamil's expression changed, a bitter wave crashing over him as he realized that you've found someone who had captured your heart. He had been content with being just friends, never daring to hope for more, but now it seemed that you had found someone else who made your heart sing.
"I see," he said, his movements a bit stiff as he poured hot water over the tea leaves. "It sounds like a beautiful thing, to be so connected to someone else," he commented, albeit a bit stiffly.
This stiffness goes unnoticed by you though, as you nodded, feeling a little embarrassed for bringing the conversation up. "Well, the thing is, I had hoped to find my soulmate. And... to have found him here in Twisted Wonderland, yet my connection to him is one-sided... I'm sorry; I know it sounds silly... It's just been on my mind a lot lately," you admitted.
Jamil shook his head. "Don't apologise. I'm glad you told me, it must be really important to you." He said, distracting himself by pouring the tea into a mug. "Here you go," he said, handing it to you. "It’s chamomile tea. I hope it helps you sleep better tonight."
"Thank you," you replied, taking a sip of the warm liquid. It's fragrant and soothing, and you felt a sense of calm wash over you.
Despite the sharp pang in Jamil's chest as he came to terms with the fact that you belonged to someone else, he couldn't help but be captivated by the image you paint of your soulmate. His heart clenched with bittersweet emotions as he pushed aside his own longing, resigned to the reality of unrequited feelings, as he had always done. He looked at you and asked, "So, what is your soulmate like?" His voice trembled slightly, betraying the turmoil of emotions within him.
You hesitated, torn between revealing the truth and keeping your feelings hidden. But as you met his intense gaze, you felt a surge of courage well up within you. Taking a deep breath, you described the person who holds the other half of your soul.
"He's incredibly responsible and resourceful," you said, your words tinged with a shy vulnerability. "He's always looking out for others, taking great care of the people around him. He's thoughtful, kind, and selfless."
As you spoke, Jamil's mind raced with a mix of emotions. He couldn't help but see himself reflected in the description you gave, recognizing the qualities that you admired in your soulmate. Could it be possible that you're describing him? His heart pounded loudly in his chest as he tried to keep his excitement in check. He cleared his throat and asked, "And... what about their hobbies?"
Okay, this is it. "He enjoys basketball and dancing quite a lot."
You watched as the gears turned in his head, his eyes widened and his breath caught in his throat as he realised what you had said. "Me?" he asked, his voice barely audible as a flush settled across his face, his emotions swirling like a tempest within him.
You nodded shyly, confirming his suspicions. Jamil's heart skips a beat, and he could hardly believe his luck. "I... I'm your soulmate...?" he stammered, his voice barely audible, but the joy in his eyes was unmistakable.
You nodded again, hesitating for a moment before speaking, "I... I’ll show you," you said as you start to unbutton the top buttons of your uniform. He raised his eyebrows in alarm, his gaze flitting between your face and the wall, seemingly flustered by your words. You could barely hold back a laugh at his adorable reaction, but you composed yourself and pulled down the collar of your shirt, revealing the words written neatly on your collarbone in a familiar handwriting—his handwriting.
Jamil stared at the mark, his expression unreadable. The words written there are in his own handwriting, unmistakably so. He reaches out tentatively, his fingertips grazing the letters as if trying to confirm that what he's seeing is real. He feels as your body thrums at his touch, and a wave of possessiveness washes over him, seeing his mark on you as if you belonged to him. For the first time in his life, something, no, someone, finally belonged to him completely.
"This is what I meant," you said quietly. "It's my soulmate mark. The first words you ever said to me."
He looked up at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of surprise and tenderness. "I... I can't believe it," he stammered, his voice thick with emotion. "This is... this is incredible."
You smiled, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your chest. "It's real, Jamil," you murmur, cupping his hand on your collarbone. "We're soulmates."
He nodded slowly, still unable to take his eyes off the mark on your skin. "I never imagined... I never thought it would be like this." He looked at you with a newfound sense of possessiveness, as if he was realizing for the first time that you were truly meant for each other. "You're mine," he said in a low, husky voice. "My soulmate."
Your breath hitched at his words, and a shiver ran down your spine. You could feel the depth of his emotions, the intensity of his love, and it left you feeling weightless. "Yes, Jamil," you said airily. "I'm yours, and... you're mine."
He smiled tenderly before leaning in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, yet possessive, kiss. It feels like fireworks going off in your head as you realise that the bond you had been searching for your whole life has finally solidified. You deepen the kiss, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him closer, lost in the moment of pure connection. When you finally pull away, both of you are left breathless, smiling widely at each other.
Jamil had always thought fate had pulled a cruel joke on him. But if fate had brought him a soulmate from another world, maybe it wasn’t such a bad joke after all.
Kenma :)
if ur sexc hot and fun take this quiz for ur hq soulmate 💃🕺 rb and tell me who u got !!
Haikyuu Anthology Series || It's Fate When Your Kids Are Friends
Haikyuu Dads! Scenarios | You x Kuroo, Suna, Atsumu, Osamu, Oikawa, and Sakusa
SUMMARY. Your adventures as a single, young mom meeting very eligible and equally single Haikyuu! dads. Sit back and have some fun with these bold, daring men.
WARNING. The italicized chapters for each, 'Third Time's The Charm', is smut. Please do not read if you're a minor or are uncomfortable with nsfw content. Skipping it will not affect the story.
Kuroo Tetsuro | TBA First Meeting > Second Date > Third Time's The Charm > Four Is Our Family You and Kuroo are quick to notice 'the parent trap' both your daughters try to spring on you but... what's the harm in playing along?
Suna Rintaro | Found You First Meeting > Second Date > Third Time's The Charm > Four Is Our Family What happens when your elementary school daughter arrives home unexpectedly with a surprise in tow?
Miya Atsumu | TBA First Meeting > Second Date > Third Time's The Charm > Four Is Our Family Atsumu can't understand why his son prefers spending more and more time with his new friend over his own father but he has a brilliant plan to work around it.
Miya Osamu | Little Delights First Meeting > Second Date > Third Time's The Charm > Four Is Our Family Osamu can't help but be intrigued when his daughter starts bringing home delicious desserts prepared by her best friend's mother.
Oikawa Toru | TBA First Meeting > Second Date > Third Time's The Charm > Four Is Our Family You get a call to send any parent into panic - your son is injured and at a stranger's home - you definitely never expected it would lead to dinner with Oikawa Toru.
Sakusa Kiyoomi | TBA First Meeting > Second Date > Third Time's The Charm > Four Is Our Family Every week, your daughter seems to have a cute new hand sanitizer or fancy tissue pack tucked away in her backpack but you're compelled to seek out the source when you find an unnecessarily expensive item.
A/N: This started out as standalone short scenarios for each of my Fayevourites and has now evolved into short, episodic fics instead! You can thank Suna for that :D I was working on Found You (the initial inspiration for the anthology series btw) when realized I was already over 3K words, at a good place to stop, and had enough left to still write for him that would fill not just one, but at least three, more chapters. I've got all the first meetings planned out, as well as all four Suna chapters, but I can (and may) choose to change any particular aspects as I write more. Hope you all enjoy! <3
© 2021 fayeimara. All rights reserved. Please do not repost, modify, or claim as yours.
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