HAVE TOU CONSIDERED. Doing This Kiss And Make Out Prompt But Flipped? I.e. THEY Drag You Into A Closet/classroom

𑁍ࠬܓ how they react when they see you hurt (housewardens & jamil)

synopsis: pain is not something he ever wanted to associate with you. but seeing you injured—knowing someone dared to harm you—shatters his composure. for some, it’s rage; for others, panic. and for a few, it’s cold, terrifying control—until he knows you’re safe. but one thing is certain: someone will pay for this.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia.

content warning(s): angst, mentions of violence and implied revenge, mild injury descriptions (ex. bruises, wounds, pain etc.), spoilers for book 6 in idia’s part.

a/n: they’re just being silly, guys. <3

link(s): (masterlist)

riddle rosehearts

riddle prides himself on maintaining control.

his entire life has been shaped by discipline, by structure, by the belief that emotions must be ruled by logic. he does not allow himself to be reckless, does not allow himself to be overcome. everything he does is precise, calculated, deliberate.

but the moment he sees you hurt—

everything unravels.

his breath catches in his throat, his heart slamming against his ribs, his mind instantly abandoning all reason. his entire world sharpens to a singular point—you—and all at once, every ounce of restraint he’s spent years perfecting is hanging by a fragile, fraying thread.

“who did this?”

his voice is sharper than you’ve ever heard it, trembling with something raw, something dangerously close to rage.

he’s beside you in an instant, dropping to his knees without hesitation, his hands hovering—not touching, not yet, because what if he makes it worse? what if he hurts you somehow? his fingers tremble, itching to reach out, to make sure—

“tell me where it hurts,” he says, but his voice wavers. “tell me what happened.”

his hands are gentle but firm as he checks you over, his usually practiced movements clumsy with the weight of panic. he doesn’t even realize his breathing is uneven, doesn’t even notice the way his shoulders are shaking as he looks you over, as he takes in every bruise, every wound, every sign that something happened—

something he didn’t prevent.

“you should have been more careful,” he scolds, but the words come out thin, forced, like he’s trying to hold something else back.

you try to tell him you’re fine, try to brush it off, but he doesn’t believe you. his eyes flicker with frustration, his jaw tightening, his grip on your wrist just a fraction too tense.

“don’t be ridiculous—you’re hurt,” he snaps, and then immediately exhales, forcing himself to breathe. “just… stay still. let me handle this.”

he refuses to let you wave it away. refuses to leave it alone. you are not fine, and he will not let you convince him otherwise.

but even as he focuses on making sure you’re okay, something else burns at the edges of his mind, pressing against his temples like an unbearable weight—

who did this to you?

his hands clench into fists. his breathing evens out, but his posture remains rigid, coiled tight like a string about to snap.

because once you’re safe—once he’s certain that you’re okay, that you’ll recover, that he didn’t fail you—

then, and only then, will he deal with the one responsible.

his mother may have taught him restraint, but some things are unforgivable.

and hurting you is one of them.

leona kingscholar

danger.

his body registers it before his mind does, his instincts kicking in the moment his eyes land on you—hurt, vulnerable, not okay.

his vision tunnels, his pulse spikes, and suddenly, the world around him doesn’t matter anymore.

“what the hell happened?”

his voice is a low, guttural growl, thick with something dark, something uncontrollable. his hands clench at his sides, every muscle coiled, his body ready—ready to fight, ready to destroy, ready to eliminate whatever put you in this state.

but then he sees it—sees the way you’re holding yourself, the way your breath hitches, the way you flinch just slightly—and suddenly, the anger has to be forced down, swallowed like bile in the back of his throat.

because right now, you come first.

so he moves, closing the distance in a single step, his hands reaching for you before he can stop himself. his hands are gentle from the start, unusually so. these hands of his are capable of devastation, of turning flesh to dust, of summoning ruin with a mere touch. but against you, they are careful, restrained. the second he feels the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the tension in his hold eases, his hands softening, steadying you instead of breaking you.

“who did this?”

his voice is still dangerous, still thick with that barely restrained fury, but now there’s something else underneath it.

concern.

fear.

he hates how it makes his chest tighten. hates the way it lingers at the edges of his thoughts, nagging at him, clawing at something buried deep beneath his usual indifference.

he kneels in front of you, his sharp, emerald eyes scanning every inch of you with terrifying intensity. his fingers ghost over your injuries, his jaw clenched so tight you can hear his teeth grind together.

“tell me.” his voice is dangerous now.

and then—when you hesitate, when you try to brush it off, when you lie—

his patience snaps.

“don’t give me that.” his grip tightens just slightly, his expression darkening. “you’re hurt. don’t act like it’s nothing.”

there’s no room for argument in his tone. no patience for your stubbornness, no willingness to accept anything less than the truth.

if you try to keep it from him, if you refuse to say who’s responsible, then fine—he’ll find out himself.

because someone did this.

and once you’re safe—once he’s sure you’re okay, once he’s made damn sure you’ll recover—

then he’s hunting.

“stay here,” he mutters, standing to his full height, his tail flicking behind him in barely restrained aggression. “i’ll take care of it.”

and if you try to stop him?

his gaze flickers down to you, something sharp, something scorching, like the unrelenting heat of the desert sun at its peak—blistering, unforgiving, merciless.

“no one lays a damn hand on you and gets away with it.”

and then he’s gone, a storm of unbridled wrath, a lion on the hunt.

azul ashengrotto

azul is a man of careful calculations.

every word, every action, every decision he makes is deliberate. he has spent years crafting a persona of charm, wit, and effortless composure—one that allows him to stay in control, no matter the circumstances. he does not flinch, does not waver, does not lose to uncertainty.

but then he sees you hurt.

and suddenly, all of that control is gone.

his breath catches, his body locks up, and for one horrifying moment, his mind is utterly blank.

“you—what happened?”

his voice doesn’t sound like his own. it’s too sharp, too raw, lacking the usual smoothness he prides himself on.

he rushes to you without thinking, but the second he’s close enough to touch, he hesitates. his fingers hover inches above your skin, his knuckles white with the force of his restraint. his mind is screaming at him to act, to do something, but a terrible thought wedges itself into his panic—

what if i make it worse?

he doesn’t trust his own hands, doesn’t trust his own judgment, not when the sight of you like this is unraveling him from the inside out.

“tell me what hurts,” he demands, his words tumbling out in a way that’s almost frantic. “is it serious? how bad is it?”

his thoughts spiral immediately, jumping to the worst possible conclusions. is it critical? should he be calling for medical attention? what if you’re downplaying it? what if he’s not fast enough?

and then you try to brush it off.

“nothing?” he echoes, breath hitching. his voice almost cracks—and he hates that. “how can you say that when you’re—when you—”

his hands clench into fists, shaking slightly as he forces himself to breathe.

“just—just stay still,” he mutters, voice tight with strain. “i’ll take care of it.”

because if there is one thing he knows, one thing he can control, it’s fixing things. making deals. offering solutions.

“i’ll call a healer. i’ll get whatever you need—whatever you want.”

his words come too fast, his mind still racing, but through it all, his hands never leave yours.

his grip is too tight, fingers wrapped around yours like a lifeline, like letting go isn’t an option he’s willing to consider.

because if he lets go—if he loses you—

he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle it.

and when it’s over—when he knows you’ll be okay—he still doesn’t let you out of his sight.

“you scared me,” he murmurs, quieter than before.

his voice is steadier now, but you can still hear the remnants of his fear, lingering in the way his thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, in the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath this entire time.

and for the first time since you’ve met him—since he built the persona of azul ashengrotto, the untouchable businessman, the man always one step ahead—

he lets you see just how fragile he becomes when it comes to you.

kalim al-asim

kalim is always smiling.

he is a beacon of joy, a burst of light in every room he enters. when things go wrong, he looks for the silver lining. when people are hurting, he lifts them up with his boundless energy. sadness is something he refuses to dwell on, something he fights against with warmth and laughter.

but when he sees you hurt?

his entire world stops.

“oh no, oh no—”

the words leave him before he can think, his breath catching as his heart lurches in his chest. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause to process what he’s seeing—his body moves, fast and instinctive, rushing to your side.

his hands cradle your face, warm and steady despite the frantic tremor in his touch.

“are you okay? what happened? does it hurt? how bad is it?”

his voice is shaking. he’s shaking.

and when he finally really looks at you, when he takes in the way you wince, the way you hold yourself like you’re trying to hide the pain—his chest tightens, his stomach twisting into something awful.

“why didn’t anyone stop it? why didn’t i stop it?”

guilt. overwhelming, suffocating guilt floods him like a tidal wave.

“i should’ve been there! i should’ve protected you!”

his grip on you tightens—not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s here. he isn’t letting go. he won’t let go.

and then, before you can stop him—before you can tell him it’s not a big deal—his eyes start to glisten.

“kalim, are you—”

“i’m not crying!” he absolutely is. “i just—you scared me!”

his voice wobbles, and suddenly, he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“don’t move, okay? just stay right here! i’ll get someone to help—i’ll fix this, i promise!”

if it’s something small—just a minor scrape, a bruise—he still treats it like it’s life-threatening. he refuses to let you walk it off, refuses to let you act like it’s fine.

if it’s something worse? if you are seriously hurt?

he panics, but his movements are certain. without hesitation, he lifts you into his arms, holding you to his chest like you’re something precious, like you belong nowhere else but safe in his hands.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

and when he finally gets you to safety, when he finally knows you’re okay—

he still won’t stop fussing.

“you need to rest! do you want pillows? i’ll get you pillows! or tea! do you want tea? i’m sure jamil will—jamil! we need tea!”

“kalim, i’m fine—”

“no, you’re not fine! i was so scared!”

his fingers squeeze yours.

and later, when you’re patched up, when the worst of the moment has passed—

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes.

“don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is softer now, the usual excitement dimmed into something deeply sincere.

“i don’t ever wanna see you hurt again.”

jamil viper

jamil was raised to handle crises.

he has spent his entire life being the one who steps in when things go wrong, the one who fixes things while everyone else panics. no matter the situation, no matter the chaos, no matter the pressure—he is always in control.

so when he sees you hurt, when he registers the way you’re holding yourself, the way your face twists with pain—

his stomach drops.

but his body moves on instinct.

“where?”

his voice is steady. too steady. his mind is screaming, but his tone doesn’t waver, his movements are calculated, precise. he crouches in front of you immediately, eyes scanning you with sharp, assessing precision.

“how bad is it? let me see.”

he doesn’t waste time. doesn’t ask what happened—not yet. because right now, the only thing that matters is making sure you’re okay.

his hands are warm but firm, brushing over you carefully as he checks for injuries. his fingers ghost over your wrist, your arm, the side of your face—everywhere that might be hurt—his touch gentle but filled with purpose.

“it’s not broken,” he murmurs under his breath, half to himself, half to reassure you. “no major swelling… does this hurt?”

and then—when you flinch, when you let out the softest hiss of pain—

something inside him snaps.

his jaw clenches. his breathing slows.

“who.”

his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time, there is something dangerous in his gaze.

“who did this?”

if there is a culprit—if someone is responsible for this—then they are not leaving unscathed.

but even as fury thrums through his veins, even as his mind races with ways to handle the situation, he forces himself to prioritize you first.

“can you walk?” his voice is softer now, his tone slipping back into something controlled, something measured.

if you say yes, he doesn’t let you prove it. he supports you immediately, one arm around your waist, guiding you effortlessly as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

if you say no, he lifts you without hesitation. no warning, no asking—just picking you up, his hold secure, unshakable.

“don’t argue,” he mutters, barely sparing you a glance. “just let me take care of it.”

because he will.

and once he gets you somewhere safe, once he’s made sure you’re being treated properly, once he knows with certainty that you are okay—

then, and only then, does he allow himself to breathe.

“you’re reckless,” he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and something far too raw. “i don’t have time to deal with this every time you get yourself hurt, you know.”

but his fingers tighten just slightly where they rest against your arm, betraying the truth behind his words.

because if something had happened—if things had been worse—

he doesn’t even want to think about what he would have done.

vil schoenheit

perfection is vil’s standard.

not just in beauty, not just in his work, but in everything—his composure, his discipline, the way he carries himself. he does not allow himself to be reckless. he does not make careless mistakes. he does not let emotions rule him.

but then he sees you hurt.

and something inside him fractures.

his lips press together, his expression unreadable, his body rigid—the only betrayal of the storm brewing beneath his flawless exterior is the way his fingers tighten just slightly at his sides, the way his breath is a fraction too controlled.

“where are you hurt?”

his voice is steady. cold. clinical. but his eyes—his eyes—

they burn.

he crosses the distance between you in two strides, his gloved fingers already reaching for you. his touch is firm but delicate, brushing over your skin with the kind of precision only someone like him could possess.

“sit down.” it’s not a request. “don’t move until i’ve assessed the damage.”

you try to downplay it, try to insist that it’s nothing, but his sharp gaze cuts through you instantly.

“do not insult me by pretending this is fine,” he snaps, his voice sharp as glass. “you are hurt. i can see it. so let me handle it.”

his fingers ghost over your injuries, his touch meticulous, searching. he catalogues everything—the severity, the placement, the way you react when he presses too close.

he is silent as he works, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes.

“this never should have happened.” the words slip out low, almost a whisper, but the weight behind them is undeniable. “i should have—”

but he cuts himself off before he finishes the thought.

vil schoenheit does not dwell in should haves.

he fixes things. he prevents disasters before they happen.

but right now, all he can do is make sure you are okay.

“i’ll handle this,” he says smoothly, already preparing to tend to your wounds himself. “stay still.”

his movements are precise, every action perfectly executed—cleaning, bandaging, ensuring no imperfections remain. but his touch lingers just slightly longer than necessary, his fingers brushing over your wrist, your palm, the curve of your shoulder with a tenderness that is almost imperceptible.

and when it’s over—when you are properly cared for, when the worst of the moment has passed—he finally exhales.

“you worried me,” he murmurs, and it is softer now, less controlled, less rehearsed.

and then—just for a second—his fingers ghost against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

“i won’t let this happen again. not ever.”

his voice is gentle. his eyes are not.

because if anyone had a hand in this—if someone is responsible for this pain—

then they will regret ever daring to touch you.

idia shroud

idia doesn’t do well under pressure.

he was not built for high-stakes situations, for stress, for emotions so raw they leave no room for second chances. he hates unpredictability, hates chaos, hates not knowing what to do.

so when he sees you hurt—

his mind shuts down.

for a full second, he just stares, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers twitching but unable to move.

no, no, no, no, no—

his brain latches onto the worst possibilities immediately. how bad is it? is it fatal? what if you’re bleeding out? what if it’s internal? what if he doesn’t react fast enough?

what if he loses you?

his stomach twists violently, a familiar, awful panic rising in his throat, threatening to choke him.

because this—this exact fear—is something he’s lived through before.

he remembers the first time. the real first time.

losing ortho was something he never saw coming. something he never thought could happen. and even though he’s built him again, recreated him, brought back a version of his little brother—

he still remembers.

remembers what it felt like to be too late. to fail someone he loved. to stand there, frozen in horror, helpless to stop it.

and now—

now it’s you.

you, the only person who matters to him besides ortho. you, the person who understands him, who stays, who chooses him despite all the reasons not to. you, who has somehow become his entire world without him even realizing it.

“oh seven—okay, okay—don’t freak out—no, wait, i’m the one freaking out—”

he rushes toward you but stops short, his hands hovering inches away, shaking.

“w-wait, should i touch you? would that make it worse?? oh seven, what if i make it worse—”

his mind is short-circuiting. too many variables. too many possible failures.

“idia,” you start, but he whirls on you, wide-eyed and frantic.

“y-you have to tell me exactly how bad it is, okay? give me a numerical rating—no, no, wait, i don’t trust the pain scale, um—can you move?? do you need a doctor??”

his breathing is erratic, his fingers clutching at the edge of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

but then—just like before—you try to reassure him.

“i’m okay.”

he stops.

his whole body locks up, his mind struggling to catch up.

”…are you sure?”

his voice is so small. so uncertain.

because he’s already lost someone before.

and if he lost you too—if this was his fault, if he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough—

he doesn’t know what he would do.

even when he’s finally convinced that you’re not dying, he still refuses to leave your side. he hovers awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, clearly itching to do something to make himself useful.

so he does what he knows best—

“d-do you wanna lay down? i, uh, set up a recovery station in my room. blankets. snacks. medkits—y’know, just in case. w-we can watch something comforting, i won’t even complain about the genre. promise.”

his voice is still wobbly, still slightly frayed at the edges, but the tension in his shoulders finally eases when you nod.

and later—when you’re safe, resting, and no longer in pain—

his fingers brush against yours, hesitant, unsure, before finally intertwining them properly.

“never scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is quiet. but this time, it doesn’t shake.

because he won’t lose you too.

he can’t.

malleus draconia

malleus has lived longer than most.

a century and more has passed since his birth. he has seen generations rise and fall, watched mortals grow old in the blink of an eye. nothing unsettles him. nothing disturbs his calm.

but then he sees you hurt.

and the entire world stands still.

his breath halts, and the air around him shifts—the very atmosphere bending beneath the weight of something primordial, something as vast and unrelenting as the storm-laden skies over the land of briar.

his first instinct is not panic.

it is rage.

“who did this?”

his voice is low, steady, but beneath the surface, something dangerous lurks.

his emerald eyes gleam, faintly glowing in the dim light. the shadows stretch taller, the wind outside stills, the very earth itself seems to pause, as if the land itself knows what kind of wrath is building within him.

his hands twitch at his sides, claws curling, magic crackling faintly at his fingertips—not for you, never for you, but for whoever was foolish enough to harm you.

but he stops himself. forces himself to breathe.

because you come first.

he is in front of you in an instant, his movements as fluid as shadow, his expression unreadable. his hands—hands that could command storms, reduce castles to rubble, shatter the very sky—reach for you with an almost unnatural gentleness.

“let me see,” he murmurs, his fingers ghosting over your injury, tracing the bruises, the cuts, the places where pain lingers.

his touch is featherlight, his movements precise, but beneath it all, his body is rigid with barely restrained fury.

“who did this?” he repeats, quieter now, but infinitely more terrifying.

if you don’t answer, if you try to downplay it, if you lie—

his gaze darkens, something thunderous in his silence.

“do not shield them from me.”

he is not so easily deceived. he sees the hesitation in your eyes, the way you waver, the way you avoid his gaze. if you refuse to tell him, it does not matter—he will find out on his own.

but first—

“hold still,” he murmurs, raising his hand.

a pulse of magic hums through the air, a whisper of ancient power curling around your form like a protective shroud. the ache dulls, the wounds begin to close, the pain fades.

“better?” he asks, softer now, something tender hidden beneath the weight of his fury.

but even as he tends to you, even as he ensures you are safe—

his mind is already elsewhere.

because someone hurt you.

and for that, there will be consequences.

malleus does not act rashly. he does not lash out blindly.

but the guilty party will know fear.

“stay here,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek for just a fraction of a second, his touch lingering. “rest. recover.”

and then, as he turns, the air thickens, the weight of his presence pressing down like the hush before a storm, like the crackling stillness before lightning splits the sky.

because someone has made a grave mistake.

and if the gods are watching, they would be wise to offer their mercy—because malleus draconia will not.

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ᥫ᭡ TAKING CARE OF THEM WHEN THEY’RE SICK / Ayato, Childe, Diluc, Jing Yuan, Dr. Ratio, Aventurine

content: fluff / gender neutral reader / reverse comfort / established relationship / reader doesn’t play around / Diluc ends up drunk / suggestive in Aventurine’s part

Since flu season is raging in my country (got to me too), I felt inclined to write this lol.

Ayato

You were working on documents in your own office, dealing with typical Yashiro commission stuff. It was Thoma who interrupted you, walking into the door with a worried look, making you wonder what happened.

“Thoma, what is it?” you asked, setting a brush on the table.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, it’s… Lord Ayato,” he started nervously, knowing the thing he’ll mention will provoke your temper you occasionally had with your husband—albeit rightfully. “He’s sick, but… he’s refusing to let me take care of him, saying he can work in this state.”

“Is that so?” you asked with a click of a tongue. “And I assume you want me to take care of him?”

Thoma nodded hesitantly. He didn’t want to interrupt your work, but sometimes only you were able to make Ayato listen. “Of course he’d be stubborn…” you sighed, and stood up. As you passed by Thoma when leaving the office, he quickly moved aside to give you space to walk, as if afraid of getting in the way of your anger.

When you finally reached your chambers, storming into a room you both shared, you looked at your husband sitting on the futon in displeasure. You could see how awful he looked, all pale, with dark eye circles, hair so messy it doesn’t feel like proper him—yet this man had an audacity to read through documents.

He turned to look at you, something like annoyance flashed his face, yet it quickly died when he noticed your slight anger. Only you had a way to make a man like him nervous—he knew once you set your mind on something he’s not getting out of this and he did value your opinion.

“Why aren’t you resting?” you asked with a hand on your hip.

“Because I’m not as sick as they say. A mere cold. I can’t abandon my work,” he argued, all stubborn sounding.

You scoffed, “Work? Don’t you see your document is upside down?”

He looked at the paper, now hilariously dumbed as he noticed you were right. “Well—”

“No,” you interjected bluntly and took away his documents after kneeling down next to him he tried to catch but even his hand was too weak and fell downward. “If you can’t read these you won’t be able to get any work done anyway.”

You then pressed your palm against his shoulder, making him lay down. Ayato looked at you with annoyance making its return, almost like a spoiled child who couldn’t get his way; but eventually, didn’t try to get up—he knew you were more stubborn than him and with you he was a weak man in the end. “I don’t need to be coddled.”

“Can’t call it coddling when you can’t even take care of yourself in the first place,” you said sharply, making him wince. A bucket of water Thoma left behind, you wet a towel with its contents. Brushing his hair off of forehead back, you placed a cold towel on his head.

Ayato shivered from the coldness, but relaxed when it felt better against his slight fever. He looked at you with a frown again, almost like a puppy trying to scare you off so he’s given a chance to work again… but seeing your face so focused and sort of worried after your initial anger has passed, he suddenly felt fuzzy. His spouse was taking care of him, all nice for him, they were there, there was no more work… He had all of your attention and couldn’t be any more satisfied.

He melted when your delicate hands cleaned his chest under his yukata, so cooling and soothing to his aches and discomforts. When you brushed his hair with a comb, he no longer cared about work. His scalp was pleasured and you were treating him like someone you loved. He was being reassured that he needed to do none for once.

“You know, darling…” Ayato said, making his voice even weaker than it was. “I think my back hurts. Can you give me a massage?” He coughed, and he looked so vulnerable. Yes, he was making his state to appear even worse—anything to receive your additional care and affection. At this point he thought you could baby him all you want, grown man or not.

Noticing his intensions was easy for you. However, you’d rather deal with spoiled Ayato than a stubborn one. “As long as you take medicine first.”

“Deal. But I’m afraid you’ll have to feed it to me,” he said with overly worn eyes, looking so vulnerable.

How could you say no to these begging eyes? You had him wrapped around your finger, but it was mutual.

Childe

When Childe stumbled inside your shared house looking all tired, you didn’t think much of it—there was just an assumption it’s nothing but exhaustion bothering him after the whole day of work. It was only when he fell against your body after approaching you (or attempting to) in the hallway of the wooden house, that you realized something was off.

“Ajax?” you asked with a worried tone, trying to ignore the fact his wet clothes from the Snezhnayan outside were still not taken off and wetting both you and the floor. He looked rather incoherent to you. “What’s wrong?” You put a head on his forehead, but it was difficult to tell if he had a fever after being out in a cold weather.

“Sick… can darling mine make me a soup…” this was all he managed to murmur. That confirmed your suspicions, and you sighed. Someone so physically strong, surviving the worst injuries—you didn’t think he’d fall a victim to a simple infection. You were surprised he even managed to find his way back when he seemed out of it.

Apparently he knew where home was.

You held him closely when he buried his face in your neck, speaking incoherently; all desperate for your warmth and comfort. His eyes were closed and his brain foggy but he’d recognize you every time. “Your soup the best…” You would have been flattered by the compliment if it wasn’t for him being in a rather terrible condition.

“Yes, I’ll make you soup,” you said reassuringly and tried to help him reach the bedroom. As you were taking off his clothes and wiping him with towel on bed, Childe couldn’t stop reaching his hands towards in search of your body to be assured you’re still there. Who would have thought he’d be so clingy and vulnerable… you found him rather cute in this state, despite your concerns.

You had to ignore his whine when leaving the bedroom to prepare soup, instead hoping he’ll catch a short nap meanwhile.

You froze when you returned. He was sleeping on his back, hands crossed together, that you had to do a double check to see if he’s still alive—with how pale he was and the position, he looked like a man ready to be a put in the coffin. “A-ajax?” you called out.

Ajax murmured something incoherent and opened his eyes drowsily. You sighed in relief, realizing how silly your concern was.

“Soup?” he asked hopefully, his eyes barely open. “Yeah, soup,” you laughed, amused by him being so obsessed with the soup.

You placed the bowl on the bedside table and sat down on the bed next to him. “Up you go.” You helped him sit up and his head automatically fell onto your shoulder, clinging and looking for all you and the warmth he could get. “Mm… my darling is here…”

You should have been mad at him for putting himself in this state, yet it was hard with how endearing your lover was behaving; all unable to rest easy if you’re not here.

With bowl in your hands, you began to spoonfeed him, ensuring you went slowly enough. You made him sigh in relief—it was the familiar warmth of favorite soup but also you that made him feel at peace in his delirious state.

After setting a dish aside, you were planning to get up to find medicine, only to be stopped by Childe who suddenly had enough strength to tackle you down and hold tightly onto you. You tried to free yourself but to no avail.

“No… let me…” he murmured, his arms wrapped around you with his head on your chest.

You will be stuck here for a while.

Diluc

When you’ve returned from the city, carrying a basket with all the stuff you bought for sick Diluc, you didn’t expect an ongoing panic within the winery.

Two maids were standing in the corner, whispering to each other nervously, Adelinde was walking around in circles as if waiting for you, and Elzer was drumming his fingers against the desk in anticipation.

“What’s up?” When Adelinde saw you, she immediately approached you.

“Bad news. Master Diluc is drunk,” she said with worry, dumping the surprising news on you right away.

You couldn’t understand why Diluc would be drunk, considering he avoided drinking, but you knew it was bad terrible news. He was a whole lightweight drinker and could be knocked out for days after a smaller amount, like he had done at the banquet with Snezhnayan merchants after drinking a shot of fire-water back then. “But… how would this happen?” You were ready to run upstairs to check up on him.

“The medicine… the syrup… it had a small amount of alcohol in it,” Adelinde informed, making you dumbfounded. You knew these had some contains, but not enough to get drunk! Then again, Diluc’s sensitivity to alcohol was ridiculous…

You shook your head, having made peace with the fact it’s been done. “How bad is it?”

Adelinde fell silent for few seconds, wondering how to deliver the news to you. “Well… he’s been out of character. He keeps asking for you and being all childish about you not being there. Could you…”

You nodded, knowing Diluc won’t stop causing chaos if he doesn’t see you here. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, Adelinde. Can you ask a cook to prepare some light meal for him?”

“Of course.”

As Adelinde watched you go, she had to stifle a laughter. She knew her master will be plenty of embarrassed once he sobers and finds about his mischief he won’t even remember.

As you entered the bedroom, you were surprised to see Diluc… sniffling. Was he crying just because you weren’t there? Such thing pulled at your heartstrings; despite it being a shocking yet hilarious sight—he usually bottled up everything. He was lying in bed, his face buried in pillows as he pathetically rested on his side.

“Diluc?” you called out to him, your voice quiet. You got an immediate response, him quickly sitting up. “M-my love?” he looked at you and suddenly he was all smiley. “You’re back! I thought you left me alone,” his speech was all slurred. It was still unbelievable just a tiny percentage of alcohol could get him drunk.

You shook yourself out of your surprised stupor and approached him, sitting down on the edge of the bed with burgundy sheets. “No, of course I wouldn’t leave you,” you reassured, and placed the basket nearby.

Diluc (very clumsily) crawled on bed, before his head ended up on your lap, where he buried his face. His hair was all messy, no longer tied and clearly unbrushed from all the struggle and whining. “I was so lonely…” he muttered.

“Oh really?” you asked softly, albeit teasingly, as you were getting somewhat amused. He’ll be fine and you knew it, he just needed to sober up. When you started brushing his hair with your fingers, he sighed like a content cat.

“So much… I love you…” he murmured against your legs and was falling asleep again. Your heart fluttered at his drunk yet honest words, and you allowed him to rest like this.

“Silly Diluc… you’ll be so embarrassed tomorrow,” you said to yourself and smiled.

Jing Yuan

As much as you loved Jing Yuan, you were starting to lose your mind when you had to take care of his sick-self. They kicked him out of his office after he’s been coughing the entire day. He might be a specimen of immortal race, but still managed to get sick.

The issue? He wouldn’t let you go for even a second. You want to use bathroom, prepare his medicine or grab food from the kitchen—he wouldn’t let you get up as he was forcing you down on bed to cling to you. He’s been clingy everyday but this was a new level of suffocating.

“Jing Yuan!” you scolded for what felt like a thousandth time, “You’re going to get me sick if you leech off of me like this!”

You got a whine in response, his pitiful looking face burying itself in your chest. “But sweetheart… I’m so sick, you should be there for your husband.” He coughed for emphasis—a gesture slightly manipulative, but one you were immune against. You knew better than to give in to his demands; refusing to end up infected. While he was gentle with you, he could be plenty of selfish as well, especially when it came to the person he wanted to spend the most time with.

“I won’t be there for you if I get sick too!” you argued. He looked up at you, his face slightly confused for moment (fever effect) only for realization to appear on his face. Yet it was ruined a moment later, his voice all sly, “That’s okay. It’ll mean you’ll have no choice but to rest with me.” He put his head on your chest again.

“What? Do you wish me misery? Are you this selfish, Jing Yuan?” You tried to pull away from him but he was not letting you go—even when sick, he had enough strength you wondered if he’s even that affected by flu. “Come on, I’m not selfish, I just can’t get better without you…” he pouted. “And if I get healthy first, it’d mean I have a chance to take care of you—”

His voice was cut off as you put a hand on his face, not willing to hear this nonsense anymore. Jing Yuan was about to brag about how much he’d love to have you all vulnerable and dependent on him, yet you were aware it wasn’t worth getting sick. “Darling, can’t breathe—” he protested with a muffled voice, and you realized if his nose was stuffy he can’t use his mouth to breathe. You let go of his face with a sigh, feeling almost guilty.

“Why do you have to be such a child when sick, huh?” you asked, sounding resigned. “I’m not childish, I just know that I need you. You’re the only thing that can help this poor man.”

In the end, you two found a compromise—you let him cling to you as long as he wears a mask. Jing Yuan felt like a muzzled dog when he was unable to smooch you, but it was better than nothing.

Dr. Ratio

Taking care of sick Veritas was easier than it should have been. This man simply knew what he needed, and your only job was to give him the required tools. He didn’t need to seek out a doctor either—with all the degrees he had he managed to swiftly diagnose himself and tell you what medication you needed to acquire.

But something was missing. It felt robotic to just hand him things he needed instead of actually taking care of him. You have given him a blanket, a water, a dinner, his pills; you adjusted his pillow—but what about some TLC?

Veritas asked you to stay away from the guest bedroom where he mercifully located himself at to not get you sick, however, you suddenly felt separated from him and experienced an odd need to watch over him, no matter how much you knew he got this. That’s why you were marching through the corridor to see him.

Knocking on the door, you heard no response, therefore decided to enter the room. You were met with a sight of Veritas sleeping peacefully—excluding a flush of his pale skin and sweaty surface. You were well aware you were risking getting sick yourself, but told yourself your immune system was better than some flu—hence you approached his bed, sitting on the edge. Your hand gently brushed his fringe back, exposing his forehead you decided to kiss.

Withdrawing, amber eyes were staring at you, almost scoldingly. You gasped as you felt startled. “Were you pretending to be asleep?!” you immediately accused, even if you got caught. A teasing smile is what you got in return.

“You’re quite predictable, dear. I heard you shuffling around my room for a while. I also have suspected you’d miss me eventually… and it doesn’t take a genius like me to guess.”

“Fine…” you said resigned and sat down on the edge of the bed, one with sheets looking all organized even when he was ill.

Veritas sighed, his voice somewhat softer, “You’re a silly one. Do you genuinely want to end up in the same state? It’d be counterproductive to take care of me just to end up with a virus yourself.”

“Of course not…” you scoffed. “It’s just… I don’t want you to suffer alone.”

“Suffer? That’s a rather dramatic statement,” he teased. “Are you that worried for me? Or were you the one feeling lonely?”

He got you there. “What if I was to say ‘both’?” you murmured almost shyly, receiving an amused chuckle in return. “You should know you’re not neglectful just because I can do everything on my own… but perhaps I can help you with your ‘separation anxiety’.”

“Now you’re the one being overdramatic, calling it separation anxiety,” you said, feigning annoyance. “But I’m listening.”

“You could help me bathe, wash my back and hair if my arms may be too exhausted. As long as I avoid coughing at you, you should be fine,” he proposed. The idea sounded good enough, as you’d be able to both help him and be near him… not to mention you could touch his godly physique.

Aventurine

Being busy watching TV, you were surprised hearing Aventurine enter your shared penthouse much earlier than usual. Even the sound of him undressing and moving around in hallway sounded more messy than his typical confident body language.

When you saw him enter living room, his face all happy at the sight of you, you couldn’t help but ask, “Welcome back. How did they let you leave so quickly?”

He smirked. “They had to kick me out.” Aventurine enjoyed the shock and slight annoyance on your face. Yeah, maybe he should feel ashamed, but he loved any reaction from you as long as no real boundaries were crossed—simply because he loved seeking attention from his favorite person.

“What did you do again?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

“Again? How cruel of you to assume it’s me who’s the problem!” he feigned disappointment and threw himself on the gigantic couch, right next to you. His arm rested behind your head, all comfortable.

“Come on,” you said more seriously. You knew him well. Maybe too well.

“I’m saying the truth, baby. I didn’t do anything this time. They forced me to leave because I’m sick. Didn’t want me to get everyone else sick too.”

That changed everything. “Sick?” He tried to not feel all cocky when he heard your voice suddenly sound worried. The fact that you cared so much about him made him feel all warm yet also foolish. “But you don’t really look sick…” For a moment you had a doubt but it was forgotten when you placed your hand on his forehead.

“Yeah. I had makeup applied for photos. I guess our makeup artist did a pretty good job,” he chuckled.

“Tsk, you sound too nonchalant about this. I don’t know how you can still walk when you’re burning with fever! Let’s go,” you said all serious, making him smile. However, he didn’t protest when you helped him get up. He’d get all the attention his dear would give him, even if he felt undeserving of your kindness sometimes. He’ll make sure to make it up to you later, even if it was a normal thing for someone to take care of their partner. He loves to spoil you regardless.

When you helped him change into more comfortable clothes, remove his makeup and lay down on his grey sheets, you felt him pull you down with him, his arms iron around your waist. He laughed at your startled yelp.

With you on top of him he was quick to try to take advantage of the position, his lips nearing yours with eagerness in his eyes. You didn’t let him win—your hand quickly clamped his mouth. “What do you think you’re doing, Aventurine?” you said somewhat sternly.

Aventurine licked your palm to tickle you as a way of scaring your hand off. “Come on, baby,” he teased, his voice clear as you had to take your hand off. “I missed you. Don’t you want me too?”

“It’s not about that! You’re supposed to be resting,” you scolded, making him sigh at your ‘tender’ care. You couldn’t believe he still had energy to screw around.

“I’m not that sick. At least not enough to not have so fun. I guess I find you attractive no matter how I feel.”

While his words flattered you, you were able to tell the consequences. “That’s very kind of you. I still don’t want to get sick,” you added bluntly.

Aventurine, “Fine, fine…” He finally let you go, feeling disappointed when you sat up on the bed.

When you helped him take some medicine soon after, he finally felt tired enough to find sleep enticing.

“Can I at least hold your hand? Since I don’t want to get you sick too,” he asked, almost bashfully at the vulnerable request.

“…Yeah.” You can wash your hand afterwards. For now, you’ll comfort him. That’s why your warm hand enveloped his.

He slept like a baby that evening.

Confessions

Characters: All NRC students

Summary: How the TWST boys confess to you

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle waits for a few months to confess. He needs to know that what he feels is real. He doesn’t want to confess and then realize that it wasn’t a crush. When he is certain that he likes you, he’s going to do his best. He takes you for a walk through the Heartslabyul rose garden. He then leads you to a tea party he set up for you two. And then, he tells you that he likes you and would like to be your boyfriend. And at the end, he walks you back to your dorm and gives you a bouquet of roses and then leaves.

Trey Clover:

He also waits a few months. He confesses earlier than Riddle though. When he does confess, he does it with a pastry. He knocks on the door to your dorm with a strawberry tart. He offers it to you and tells you how he feels. And when you tell him you feel the same, he starts discussing plans for your first date.

Cater Diamond:

He also waits a few months. But for him, it’s more because he’s scared of rejection. Before he confesses, he texts asking if you like anyone or have a partner. And when you tell him no, he’s relieved. He shows up to your dorm with a bouquet of flowers, chocolates, and a stuffed animal. He holds it out to you and tells you how he feels about you. And he’s ecstatic when you claim to feel the same.

Deuce Spade:

He waits a few weeks before confessing. He spends that time planning the confession and asking for advice and help. He has everything planned out perfectly. First, he takes on a walk through the rose garden and on this walk he confesses his feelings. And when you say you feel the same, he sighs in relief. He then guides you to a table that has a small dinner set up on it. And if you hear romantic music coming from the bushes, no you didn’t (Ace is trying to help).

Ace Trappola:

He confesses pretty quickly. For a while, he doesn’t realize that he likes you. It just hits him and he decides to confess. You and him are chilling in his dorm room. He glances over at you and realizes he likes you. And then he just says it. The words tumble out with such ease, like he practiced it. And then you confess as well, and he scoots over to wrap his arms around you.

Leona Kingscholar:

To him, confessions are a hassle. He just confesses when he feels like it and he doesn’t have it planned out at all. You find him in the botanical gardens and start talking to him. And he just tells you how he feels. It was out of nowhere. But it was a very Leona way to confess. And when you confess back to him, he pulls you to lay down next to him, his hand intertwined with yours.

Ruggie Bucchi:

He doesn’t plan on confessing to you. Not with words, at least. He does the approach-avoid tactic (Like all hyenas). He’ll approach you, step back a bit, approach again, step back and so on. And if you decide to mimic him, even if it’s just for fun, he’ll accept it as reciprocation. And from there, he just assumes you two are dating.

Jack Howl:

When he realizes he likes you, he starts preparing the perfect confession. First off, he starts hanging around you more, touching you, offering his jacket to you, etc. He does this so that his scent rubs off on you. He assumes you know, if he knew you didn’t, he wouldn’t have done it. But then he shows up to your dorm with a stuffed animal, chocolates and a letter. He gives them to you and stands there waiting for you to read the letter. And you say you feel the same, his tail starts wagging a mile a minute.

Azul Ashengrotto:

He doesn’t. He doesn’t confess. Not under any circumstances. He’s too scared of rejection. However, you find out. Because Jade and Floyd seem to have noticed that Azul has a little crush on you. Floyd immediately tells you how Azul feels and Jade confirms what he says. And so, you head to Azul’s office to tell him that you feel the same. And once you do, he freezes in place. Give him a second, he needs time to process.

Jade Leech:

He, like Ruggie, doesn’t confess. He just starts giving you gifts. Shiny rocks, pretty flowers, poisonous mushrooms. And if you gift him things as well for whatever reason, he takes it as a sign of reciprocation. Just by giving him a pebble, you have shown him that you like him too. From then on, you two are now dating and he couldn’t be happier.

Floyd Leech:

He doesn’t waste a second. The moment he realizes he likes you, he’s going to confess. Like everything Floyd does, his confession is spontaneous. You could be walking to class, and Floyd just shows up and tells you that he loves you. No matter where you are or what you’re doing, he’s going to show up to tell you how he feels. And he’ll squeeze you until you tell him that you feel the same.

Kalim Al-Asim:

He’s going to confess the moment he realizes he likes you more than a friend. You and him are doing anything together and he realizes he cares for you more than anyone else. And he just tells you. He looks up at you with a smile, hoping to get the reciprocation he really wants. And when he does, he asks what ideas you have for the wedding.

Jamil Viper:

He’s very hesitant to confess to you. He has a lot of baggage and he doesn’t want you to have to deal with that. But eventually, he decides to go ahead and do it. He shows up to your dorm with food that he made and asks to talk. He’ll confess but also tell you that he has a lot of baggage. And if you tell him you like him too, he’ll be over the moon. But if you reject him, he’ll understand (But still be sad).

Vil Schoenheit:

He’s going to wait a few weeks before confessing. He’s going to plan out the perfect way to confess to you. He’s going to invite you to dinner in Pomefiore and tell you how he feels at the beginning of the dinner. And he’ll make sure you enjoy the dinner. Congrats, you now have a super model boyfriend.

Rook Hunt:

He’s going to confess after a few days. He’ll intercept you on your walk to class and pull out a bouquet. He’ll get down on one knee, present the bouquet to you, and give a lengthy, romantic confession. And when you tell him you feel the same he lights up and jumps up to hug you.

Epel Felmier:

He waits for the next Spelldrive game. He invites you to watch and makes sure that looks extra cool that day. He also makes sure his team wins that day. He’s already super competitive, but that’s been doubled now. After the game, he asks you out and makes sure it’s the best date ever.

Idia Shroud:

He doesn’t. He refuses to confess to you. He can barely talk to you, how is he expected to ask you on a date? Ortho does it for him. He tells you how Idia feels and then tells Idia that you feel the same. Idia is very reluctant to go on a date with you. But Ortho simply invites to his dorm (much to Idia’s dismay). He’s tired of his brother being a single loser.

Malleus Draconia:

He doesn’t tell you for a while. The moment he meets you, he senses some sort of connection. Like an invisible string connecting you two, but he doesn’t know why. Then Lilia tells him something about a ‘red string’. After that, he immediately runs off to find you and tell you how he feels. He’s very forward and just tells you that you’re his soulmate. You can’t say no. You’re meant to be.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia realizes he likes you a few months after meeting you and doesn’t waste any time. He decides that the perfect way to woo you is to scare you any chance he gets. After realizing that it’s not working, he’ll drop it and just tell you how he feels… With a song.

Silver Vanrouge:

Silver doesn’t realize he likes you for a while. Almost a month. It’s only when Sebek mentions how much he’s been around you that Silver realizes how he feels. He makes sure to set up a nice little picnic in the woods behind campus with his animal friends. He leads you there and tells you how he feels. And by the end of the picnic, you’re left with an unconscious Silver surrounded by animals.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek doesn’t realize and doesn’t confess. Anytime someone brings up a hint at his feelings, he comes up with an excuse for it. Eventually all the first years get fed up with it and just tell you for him. You have to make the first move or you two will never get together.

Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, Octavinelle (Here!), Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe

Azul Ashengrotto

Fortune. Azul is one fortunate soul. At least, not he thinks himself to be.

and to think that it's because of sheer luck. He did not work for you. He did not climb or claw or plan for you. He did nothing.

No, you chose him. You saw him at his lowest and decided that he was worth becoming friends with. You actively sought him out...just to spend time at his side. Regularly. You enjoyed Azul's company

and over time, he grew to enjoy yours. Immensely. Like a giddy school-girl, his heart fluttered at the thought of you and all his notebooks were covered in doodle hearts.

This was it for him. Azul is a one and done kind of man. It’s you or it’s no one. Which means that it obviously is going to be you because hello??? Azul is not a quitter.

During your younger years as students….he may have been a bit too ambitious. In other words, Azul has proposed many times

And in turn has been rejected. Many. Times.

It began passively. He’d mention here and there his future plans for after schooling. Try to talk himself up, yeah? He’s going to be a big business man, isn’t that just perfect husband material? He can take care of you easily so there’s no need to stress.

Naturally you pushed off these moments as daydreaming and casual joking. Nothing serious. So he ups his game. It just so happens that he mistakenly got a bridal magazine in the mail…oh, look at these dresses and suits! So fancy. So beautiful…oh, you would look absolutely darling in one.

….oh sweet merciful seven please take the HINT. He is LITERALLY throwing himself at you

He ups his game. Again. A romantic candle lit dinner for two. The works. Jazz music, slow dancing, good company, and the casual proposal y’know just your average date.

You have to be doing it on purpose

In your defense. He did not flat out say “will you marry me,” because he chickened out. Instead he asked if you’d like to live with him after graduation as…roommates.

The world is out to get this poor man. It is. It truly just wants him to crash and burn in embarrassment. The way you laughed and went “I think we’re a bit more than that, don’t you think?” HAUNTS him

He screamed into his pillow that night. For hours. Floyd still gives him shit for it

Life continues this way. For reasons unknown…he just couldn’t bring himself to be direct. Which is so unlike Azul considering he spent years toughening himself up.

Maybe deep down he did fear that things wouldn’t work out. A merman and a human…what if you did not want to lige in the sea? What if his body could not sustain human form for long term? Maybe he wanted you to take initiative and prove him wrong. Eventually he did give up.

At least until you both aged into the “roommates”he dreamed about. There were trials and compromise. He never thought to have two homes, one by the ocean and one literally inside of it. Life was perfect….just without the title. And on one random night, Azul thinks “One more time,”. No elaborate ruse. No trickery to get you to ask him. Just….

“Will you marry me?,” Azul whispered into your shoulder. You both lay together in your shared bedroom with nothing but the sound of crashing waves coming in from the outside. Your steady breathing halts, proving that you heard him. With a sigh, he reaches to massage your scalp, “I do not know if you have realized by now…no, I am sure of it. No one is that dense. I won’t pry for why you have ignored my past attempts…all I ask is that you answer this. Will you marry me, (Y/N)? Having you at my side has truly made me the most fortunate man alive,”

{ A black pearl over a gold band. One of the most ultimate displays of wealth. Azul is well aware that this is not the traditional pathway. He could have easily acquired a ‘genuine’ Pearl, perhaps a diamond - but no. You are a rarity. A true jewel. Only a ring worthy to reflect that is worth buying. You were the most unexpected thing and are now the most cherished. This ring represents that,}

Jade Leech

The want caught him by surprise one day, which is rare. Jade is never thrown off guard. At least, not easily.

Then again, you have always been the most difficult person for him to predict. Something he finds very charming since there is always an upbeat atmosphere wherever you go. If his days were a dimming flame, you would be just the right amount of Co2 to spark some fun - not that he would easily admit to it.

Albeit so, Jade is not blind to his emotions. He hides them well underneath a polite smile - but they are there. He is aware of them.

Which is why he snatched you up early on. A relationship was the last thing he thought to find on the surface (or in general, honestly), but Jade knows what he wants when he sees it.

He merely asks you on a date with confidence. You accept, and the process repeats until an unspoken bond formed between the two of you. Not a soul in the nearby vicinity would dare make a move on you with his lingering presence. Jade was pacified, entertained, and happily content with your circumstance.

A circumstance that Jade gets maybe a bit too comfortable with. Just like surprise, it takes a lot for Jade for feel secure. The only person he has truly felt that with is his brother. This lack of overbearing responsibility, where something is being unspoken. No ulterior motive or underlying tone in your actions that make him have to over-analyze.

In the beginning he thought of your bluntness as an extra entertainment factor. Something that he could count on to make those brief unpredictable situations amusing. Yet, as time passed he notices that it's comforting. When he's with you, Jade turns his brain off. Not entirely, of course. He still needs to throw in witty quips and fluster you at LEAST twice per day.

but it's different. It's a different comfort than what he feels with his sibling or with his friend. It's new, and strangely similar to how he feels when he forages while hiking. Perhaps finding peace in another person...maybe there is merit. Hah. Yet another surprise.

On an evening long past curfew, Jade was tending to his botany collection and miniature greenhouse. You sat on his bed, watching videos on your phone. It was almost like you weren't there with him, yet not since he felt your presence. However, there was no pressure to talk or be attentive. He found himself enjoying your presence alone, and it slipped.

"If this is how our days will be when we live together, then perhaps sharing one life is not as inconceivable as I once thought," he said amidst trimming one of his herb plants. Jade turns curiously when he hears a thump from behind, and sees you gawking at him. You had lost your grip on the cell phone, and it fell to the ground.

He eyes you suspiciously. What's startled you? He doubts that any video could render you speechless.

....he spoke aloud, yes? Not in his head. Now it's Jade's turn to lose his composure.

Another surprise, but this is his own doing. Jade has not had a slip of the tongue since his childhood. Even then it was rare. He's never experienced this kind of mess-up...yet, you don't appear appalled.

Jade places the clippers down, and coughs into his gloved hand, "well, it appears I have gotten a loose tongue. It must be from your influence, no doubt". He stands, and moves to sit next to you on his bed, "I've never spoken out of place before, you know. Do you know what this means? I've become weak...and perhaps it it is time you take responsibility for these newfound emotions. I fully intend for many moments like these to happen, and for you to not leave my side. When it is time to leave this place, I believe you will join me. No, I am certain of it"

{An eye of lapis. A reminder that he is always watching - waiting, to see you again. The gem is not see-through. It’s a tough stone. Yet it is beautiful and is appreciated nonetheless. Enough said}

Floyd leech

At first, you believed him to have an obsession. Many did, actually.

The judgement isn't uncalled for either. Floyd's emotions towards you are very strong. With the way he loves to tease and follow you around - he's got a deep attachment. He's always demanding your attention, pulling you from your duties, starting trouble, and nosy. Floyd is oh so nosy and into everything in your life.

You're a toy. His little Shrimpy. The plaything that he absolutely adores and loves to watch. You're the Friday night sitcom to his late-90s grandma.

That's how you see it because that's how he portrays it. With others in agreeance, it is easy to overlook the small undertones in his actions. Especially since he's a touchy and emotional person normally.

Somehow, Floyd had himself tricked as well. He didn't akin his emotions to obsession, but he did think that you were a toy that he would

eventually out-grow. At the start, it really was just a game for him. He liked your reactions and therefore decided to keep you around.

Yet, he never got bored. Eventually the fun events around you stopped being what he found interesting, and instead he liked you alone. Floyd being Floyd instantly tried to confess this, not wanting to waste another minute. Yet you never believed him.

He brushed it off. You'd come around. Not a day went by without him by your side. To the average onlooker (and you, to Floyd's dismay) this still appeared normal. Weeks past by like nothing.

Only the people closest to Floyd see the small giveaways. Like how he glares holes into the mirror portal every morning, or gets snappy with customers if you take too long to visit the Monstro Lounge at night. There's a booth saved, every evening with no student brave enough to go near it unless they want their head chopped off.

When he gives you a 'squeeze,' he never wraps his arms around your stomach. He instead smothers your head and goes tightly around the shoulders. Your squeezes are special. He loves them.

or the name 'Shrimpy'. How he says it to you in public, but in private he occasionally lets your real name slip out. This normally happens during moments when he feels "bored,"(i.e has nothing to talk about) or lighthearted (the rare moments when you get him to relax). Floyd has never said that name with anything other than a positive emotion, despite his mood swings. Shrimpy is his calling card for you, and only his. Yet your name is different. He feels a tummy-twisting kind of weird when he says it.

but the biggest change is Floyd's attitude towards danger when it comes to you. Before, he thrived on it. He liked to hear your stories and be part of the fun. He took joy from the scary adventures you got wrapped into; heck, he was one of them.

Now he gets morbid. Not like how he was before, with eerie threats and a suspenseful aura. He never actually acted unless told to do so, since the over-blots and delinquent students were your problem, not his.

One afternoon, you didn't show up to have lunch with him. That already made him irritable since you know better than to no-show. Did you want a squeeze? Huh, Shrimpy? He'll give you one later.

Then two students come in, all snickering and acting suspicious. Strike two. Now Floyd is upset AND annoyed. Others in the area can feel the animosity in the air.

"Did you see their face? Psh. That'll teach some snot-nosed no-mag to act all mighty. If they know what's good for them, they'll go back to whatever sh*t-hole they came from alrea-" The no-face couldn't finish his sentence. Not with one of the infamous Leech twins gripping his arm tight enough to snap bone.

Floyd smiled, "oh~ So you're the reason my little shrimp isn't eating lunch with me, aren't ya? So. What'd ya do? C'mon guys, I want to know what 'lesson' ya taught, " as Floyd spoke, his grip gradually tightened and he stared straight into the other student's eyes. Each word came out harsher than the last.

They broke quick, as he suspected. With a rough shove Floyd pushed them aside to find you. He had their faces memorized. Let them live in fear for a bit until he collects due payment. For now?

Floyd finds you at your home. He doesn't bother to knock and bursts through the front door, only to see you nursing a black eye on the couch with some ice. He wastes no time in taking it and kneeling in front of you.

Floyd holds the ice to your eye - a bit too harsh- and clenches his jaw when you wince. You won't meet his eyes and it only pisses him off more, "Oi. Look at me," and you do with your one eye. "Why didn't you call me. Why'd you not show up," You sigh and reach a hand to cover his, "because I knew you'd be pissed... I handled it, okay? No need to fake the whole 'I will protect you, my little Shrimpy' scenario. We both know that's not your thing, "

You're wrong. It's not a scenario. You can dismiss his flirting all you want, but even Floyd has a limit. Do you not see how absolutely wreaked overhearing those airheads made him? He's going to do worse than you can think. He won't kill them. No, he'll make sure that no one messes with you anymore. You can't see it, but on the inside he is over it. Done. Finished. Officially has 0% patience.

"Did you know that every time you spout crap like that, it pisses me off? I don't 'act,' because that's boring. I'm not lyin' when I say I like you, and you better start believin' it because I'm over the niceties. If someone messes with you, they mess with me. You're in deep (Y/N) and I'm not letting go, so wait here while I handle some little pests. I love ya. I act this way BECAUSE I love ya. Quit denying me already,"

No one will ever mess with you again. Not with the sparkly little gem on your ring finger, tying you to one of the largest and most threatening groups in the undersea world to date.

{ An aquamarine tear. In all honesty, Floyd did not put much thought into his gem. It sparkled. It is the color of his hair streak (or close to it). He imagined it on your finger and thought that it would stand out - ensuring that anyone and everyone could see it. He thought of your possible expression upon seeing it, and was sold}

Okay okay, my ideas:

Bestfolk claims 'ownership' by biting. So if you bite a beastperson you're close to, it's considered a proposal. Now imagine one day, let's say Ruggie steals your food, and tries to run away. You chase him, you two start fighting, and you bite him. He freezes because Are you serious?! He has to tell his grandma right away, her little boy found someone! Or maybe Leona annoyed you because he skipped something again and you got in trouble for. In petty retaliation, you bite his ear. The dorm falls silent, and Leona is shook because how bold can you be?! Doing that in front of everyone?! You know he won't be king, right? And you still want to... Okay.

For Riddle, I can imagine there's a rule for it. It's pretty complicated, but somehow you managed to hit it to a T. Riddle is flustered, because you wouldn't do these things just for the sake of it, right?! Not in the correct order, not in this perfect way. You must know the rule, and this is a proposal, right?! Just.. give him a bit. You're both still so young, but rest assured he feels the same way.

Scarabia I can imagine their country has an old timey way of proposing. Because it's based on Aladdin, I can imagine it involves Jasmine flowers and a phrasing of fulfilling all wishes. Like making a flower crown out of jasmines, placing it on your beloved's head and telling them if they have any wishes, you'd be happy to fulfill them. Jamil is just frozen in shock. He's a servant, he was always told he comes second, he always had to give everything up to Kalim. Yet here you are, proposing to him. He can't believe his luck, and he'll make sure to be the best, so you won't ever think of leaving. Kalim on the other hand is just extatic, hugging you tightly and telling you of course and how much he loves you. You're confused, but okay. You did just promise to fulfill every wish he might have, he probably means he'll wish for you to come to every party. That'd be something Kalim would do. Until you visit Scarabia the next time, and everyone is preparing some big event. And Jamil is miffed at you because didn't warn him, and Kalim sprung this engagement party just on him. Do you not know the stuff he had to prepare?!

Pomefiore is different. Harveston probably has an old tradition of proposing too. But it's so old, no one really does it anymore. It's meant to show you can provide for your partner. Cooking and being able to carry them over the doorstep. So one evening, Epel comes to visit to escape Vil for a bit and vent. You listen, and offer him some of the food you made. By coincidence, it happens to be his favorite. You two banter, and somehow the topic comes to strength, and Epel confidentaly says he could carry you. You decide to test it, and he manages! For a few seconds, at least. Then, it's your turn, you pick him up, carry him a few steps. From the kitchen to the living room. Over a doorstep. Only on his way back to Pomefiore does Epel realize all this. You can't have known, right? Then again, you were in Harveston with him. Maybe his grandma told you? Vil's is easier. You know he wants to embody the Fairest Queen, but what you don't know is, that people sometimes used a mirror to propose for that. They'd hold it to their beloved's face and spill their heart out, as if they are the enchanted mirror from the tale. One day, you walk in on Rook trying to compliment Vil with a mirror. You take it from Rook, and give Vil compliments beyond his looks. Complimenting his passion, his determination, how his eyes look when he does something he loves, etc. Vil is flustered, because do you know what you're doing? Well, one way or another, he now knows who he wants to bring to the altar one day.

OMG WAIT THIS IS SOOOO CUTE I LOVE IT

all these scenarios are adorable and I would 100% accidentally do them ;-;

I bite out of affection so woops maybe I'm accidentally marrying Leona-

twisted wonderland as textposts 8/?

only one this time cuz he's a long boy lol

(credit to @/alchemivich for the sprite assets!)

April Fools Part Two, Electric Boogaloo: telling them you're pregnant (but it's not a joke this time)

It's April Fools again! Last year you pulled a (in your opinion) harmless prank and made your boyfriend think you were pregnant by using a fake pregnancy test, which didn't go exactly as you planned.

But this time, you were actually pregnant. It just so happens that you discover this news the day of April Fool's, and with the prank you tried to pull last year, you doubt he will believe you so easily this time. Luckily, you have a brain in your head, and irrefutable evidence to prove you right. But....you know....you still have those fake tests lying around...why not have some fun?

"Hey sweetheart, I have some important news." Withholding a grin from your lips, you announced, "I'm pregnant."

previous

multi x gn!reader

[tw/cw} - sexual humor, crack, dumbassery afoot, some softer vibes, takes place post-graduation

[note] - idk i had a lot of fun with the first part so I thought I'd write a quick sequel to it! the same seven as the last post as well! also silver ended up being longer but like i had to include mal and lilia soooooo

Deuce

Your sweetest boyfriend (fiancé now actually) was staring at you with suspicion, eyeing the test in your hands as he folded the laundry, separating it into piles.

"Riiiight...and that's not the same exact 'test' you used last year." Deuce scoffed as he turned his back to you, picking up his and your clothes to put away.

"I'm not falling for that one again! Especially not on April's Fools, I'm not that dumb!"

You let out a laugh, coming up behind Deuce as you reached into your back pocket to pull out the other three (real) tests.

"Aw baby, I know you're not that dumb." Wrapping your arms around his middle and kissing his neck, you smiled as you felt Deuce hum and melt into your touch.

"So, you don't believe me?" You whined into the back of his neck, making your fiance shiver. "So mean."

"Hmph, n-no, I don't!" Deuce gave you a shaky reply as he turned in your hold, his cheeks and ears red. "You won't get me this time, I'll need more than just a test as proof!"

"Oh? Well it's a good thing then,"

A grin grew on your face as you triumphantly pulled up your hands between you two, holding up the three tests like a stack of cards right up to his face.

"That I have these!"

Watching as Deuce's bright blue eyes widened, you continued to explain.

"I knew you wouldn't believe me at first, so I went and got three different brands! I hope you know that it took me drinking a lot of water so I could get these results."

You replied deadpan, though your smile returned as you saw how Deuce's eyes sparkled and brightly smile at you.

"Wait, for real!? We're having a baby?"

"Yes! We're gonna be parents!" The two of you laughed as Deuce wrapped his arms around you and lifted you into a spinning hug.

"Oh gods, this is so exciting! I can't believe—" Deuce gasped, setting you back down on your feet as he asked, "I can tell Mom, right?"

You snorted, nodding your head and pressing your lips together in a sweet kiss.

"Yes, you can tell Dylla! Let's call her right now!"

Ruggie

You know that Ruggie wouldn't believe you or the test lying on the kitchen counter, his skeptical face as he inspected it right this moment said so well enough.

You also knew that he probably wouldn't believe the second on you left on the coffee table, though he was starting to look confused.

By the time he found the third one on the bed, he was started to understand. By the time he got to the fourth one in the bathroom, Ruggie knew that this wasn't just a joke anymore.

Poor guy almost slipped and fell on his ass as he slid into the living room, where you'd been lounging and reading a book.

"Ya ain't pulling my tail this time right?" Ruggie was eyeing you, though his tail was wagging and his lips were wobbly. "Cause if you're tryin' to pull one on me it won't work, I saved baby money this time."

You snorted at that, looking at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

"Ooooh, look at Mister Prepared over here." You teased, making Ruggie rush over and pinch your nose as he grinned back, poking at your ticklish spots. "Eeeek! Stop that! Stopstopstopstopstop! It tickles! Hahaha—AH!"

You fell backwards on your small futon, cackling as Ruggie continued poking at your sides, crawling over you to dig his fingers in to tickle.

"You sure? You better be sure! Say it out loud! Come on~" He finally relented as you smacked his hands off you with snorts and giggles, opting instead to gently smack his forehead against yours, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

"Saaaay it~"

"Okay, okay! No more tickling though!" You held up a finger and jammed it into his cheek, though you still were smiling. "Deal?"

"Mmm, just for today.

"Fine. Ruggie?"

"Yes?"

"We having a baby."

The two of you exploded into more laughter as Ruggie buried you in his arms, squeezing you tight as you squeezed right back.

Jade

You knew that Jade knew that this test was a fake one. Mostly because you deliberately grabbed the one of the ones that he used against you last year.

So while he studied the test in his hands with a smile after your announcement, you knew that your now darling husband was doubting you.

Which is why you also went through the effort of getting a blood test done with the doctor, and had the results in an envelope mixed with the rest of your mail for him to check.

"Oh? What a surprise, and on April 1st too." Jade let out a chuckle, reaching down to press a kiss at the top of your head as you continued working on your laptop. "I must say, I expected better from you. Pulling the same prank?"

You remained silent, sticking your tongue out at him as Jade simply smiled and winked at you, opting to let you be as he went to sort through the mail. Perfect.

It took him a few minutes, but he noticed the letter from the doctor quickly, letting out a concerned hum.

"My pearl, you have a letter from your physician, is everything alright?"

"Oh yeah, I went a bit ago and they had me draw some blood. Should just be a regular panel. Check it for me hun?"

You couldn't help the smile from growing as you waiting in anticipation, listening to Jade tear into paper and unfold your results.

Jade took in a sharp breath, going quiet as you finally closed your laptop. Taking a deep breath and doing your best to put on concerned face, you turned over on the couch to look at Jade, who'd been staring down at the paper with wide eyes.

"What's it say Jade?" You feign ignorance as he snapped his head to look at you, batting your eyelashes. "Everything normal?"

Before you even had the chance to react, Jade had practically lunged himself across the room to grab you, holding you tight as kissed you as if it would be the last one you'd ever share.

"Mmph!" You smiled into the kiss wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he lifted you up into his arms. Finally, after swatting him in the back to beg for a chance to breathe, Jade pulled away with a grin.

"So much for pulling the same prank, huh Jade?"

"You sly little human, what fantastic news!" You two shared another kiss. And another. And one more as he cooed to you, "You're going to look beautiful as you grow our little ones."

"Ones? Just the one Jade. Twins aren't that common for humans."

"One can hope." He gave you a sly grin. "Though, nothing prevents us from stopping at the one."

Jamil

In the spirit of your previous fuck up, you decided to order another round of fake pregnancy tests through your shared shopping account. But you bought some real ones from the store too, so there was no way for Jamil to know now what you were actually doing.

He seemed to roll his eyes at your announcement, clicking in tongue at you as he started undressing from his work clothes.

"Uh-huh, habibi did you forget what happened last time? Didn't you learn your lesson?"

Jamil pinched your cheek as he passed you to get his lounge clothes, only to pause and sigh has he noticed the second test you placed in the drawer.

"Aaaah, how funny...but seriously? You got baby fever?" Jamil questioned you, equally curious and concerned. "I feel like you're trying to tell me something."

You hummed, grinning as he went to the bathroom, loosening his braids.

"Well~ I am trying to tell you something honey..." Hearing him drop his brush over as he noticed the third on the counter made you snort and giggle.

"(Name), seriously, are you messing with me or are you actually—"

As he rushed back into the bedroom to you, Jamil froze and gaped at the two new tests you were holding in glee.

"Ha! Tricked you, I actually am pregnant Jamil! April Fool's!"

You were so thrilled to actually have pulled a successful prank on Jamil, that you didn't see the way he started tearing up. And you definitely didn't expect him to throw himself at you, arms wrapping around you tightly as he shakenly breathed into your neck.

"Habibi! You're awful for playing around with me like that!" Jamil looked up, giving you a halfhearted glare as he squeezed your cheeks with his hand and chastised you.

"Don't joke around about things like this," He cursed under his breath before relenting into a soft smile. "You're a brat."

You grinned back at him, throwing your arms around him as you laughed.

"Yeah, I'm your brat, and we're gonna get another brat in a couple of months!"

Vil

As you held out the test to Vil, like holding a platter of ambrosia to a god, he simply glanced at it, and gave you a smile.

"I know."

You blanked, frozen in your spot as Vil kissed your cheek, walking past you into the bedroom as he started removing his jewelry.

"Eh?"

A soft chuckle left your fiancé's mouth as you heard him shuffle around the room. It must have been at least a few minutes, as he returned back into his lounge clothes and wrapped an arm around your waist.

"I said, I know." Looking down at the test in your still frozen hands, Vil plucked it and studied it with a critical gaze.

"This isn't real though, I recognize it from last year. Were you trying to pull another ridiculous joke?"

Vil sighed, rolling his eyes as he tossed the test onto the dresser and instead brought you tighter against him. You relaxed into his touch, though you squirmed a bit to look him in the face.

"Wait! How did you even know? I made sure to not toss anything in the trash this time for the housekeeper, I even told her the news ahead of time so that she wouldn't accidently find all the actual tests around the place and tell you and your father again!"

Turning in Vil's arms, he actually looked impressed, though amused, at your efforts.

"Oh, you actually put thought into it this time? How cute."

"Quit making fun! Tell me how you knew!"

"Tell me first how many tests you hid."

"Like 6! She helped me hide some too!" You grabbed Vil by the shoulders and theatrically, though humorously, shook him as you demanded answers. "Now tell meeeeee!"

"Oh calm down now, there's only room for one dramatic in this relationship." Vil cupped your cheek and gave you a chaste kiss, making your calm down.

"I noticed you were rather late this month and that you've been nauseous when waking up. I put it together and figured that you were having early morning sickness."

You let out a sound of realization, though you furrowed your brows.

"Well, why didn't you say anything?"

"I wanted the pleasure of seeing what you'd do to surprise your queen." Vil scoffed and pinched your cheek. "Though, if I'd known you were going to try to pull another prank, I would've just taken you to the doctor instead."

"Let me have my fun!"

"No."

Idia

You didn't miss the way Idia squinted his eyes at you in suspicion, darting back and forth between you and the test. He even held up his tablet like a shield.

"Suuuure. Yeah, and why would I believe you?"

Gasping, you held a hand to your heart in mock offense.

"You calling me a liar, Idia Shroud? Me? Your partner?"

"Hey, you're the one who—"

"Your one and only?"

"I'm not saying that—"

"The love of your life?"

"It's just that last time you—"

"The only person who can ever tolerate your bad tastes in anime?"

"HEY!"

You tossed your head back in mock devastation, 'collapsing' into the couch behind you as you pretended to sob into your hands.

"My own boyfriend, doubting me! I can't believe it..."

Peaking through your fingers, you watched as Idia walked over, still holding up his tablet, though also glaring at you from the top of it.

"I'd be a total noob if I believed you again. Even got Ortho in it too...if you think you can trick me again..."

"Even if I show this to you?!"

Like a trump card, you reached into your jacket and pulled out an ultrasound jumping up to shove it into his face with a giant smile.

"Haaaah...what?"

Idia's eyes grew big and as he almost dropped his tablet, a shaky hand reaching for the piece of paper and bringing it close.

"You—this—we—when—"

"If you're going to faint again, faint into the couch please."

"Okay."

Thump.

Silver

You weren't a fool this time. This time, you knew exactly what to expect and how to make this prank successful this time.

"Oh...uh. Darling?" Silver held the test in his hands as you kissed his cheek walking past him into the kitchen to make you two a cup of tea.

"Yes?"

"I don't mean to doubt you, but isn't this the same test as last year? From your prank?"

Shrugging, you busied yourself with the kettle and stove, grabbing your favorite mugs (and a third one), and humming as you looked through the teas.

"Maybe. Do you want ginger tea?"

"Ginger is fine. But dear, you do remember that last year I told you—"

"Honey?"

"Yes?"

"No, do you want honey? And lemon."

"Oh, yes that would be nice, but can you answer me—"

A knock at the door interrupted Silver, though you perked up as if you expected the sudden visitor. Silver, startled, blinked at the door and furrowed his eyebrows, as if offended.

Walking over as you continued making the tea, Silver checked the window next to the door and relaxed, opening it to the guest.

"Oh, hello Malleus. I didn't know you would be coming over."

You bit your lip to keep yourself from giggling, taking a deep breath as you peeked through the doorway and waved happily.

"Hi Hornton! I invited him over for some tea! Sorry, I forgot to tell you."

Malleus had a soft smile, nodding his head at you, then at Silver, patting the top of his head. Silver blinked again, still confused, as he followed Malleus into the kitchen.

"That's alright, but can we talk about—"

You already had set the table with the cups and a few pastries alongside them, giggling as Malleus leaned in to ruffle your hair.

"Hello my Child of Man, how are you faring? You smell rather sweet, you are with child? Shouldn't you be resting?"

Silver froze, eyes wide and a breathless gasp leaving him as you nodded, making eye contact with him as you answered.

"Oh, I'll be alright! I have the father right here to help me every step of the way, right Silver—eep!"

You yelped as Silver hugged you tight, breathlessly laughing as he picked you up and twirled, making you laugh.

"I can't believe it! This is wonderful!" Finally putting you back down on your feet, Silver pressed your foreheads together and nuzzled you. "You had me confused for a moment there."

Giggling, you gestured your head to your friend sitting at the table, who smiled happily back.

"That's what Hornton was for, wanted to make that everyone in the family would be here to hear the news!"

"Everyone? But isn't Father still—"

The sudden drop of a small fae's face between you too as he floated down to grin at Silver make your partner stumble back in surprise.

"Boo!"

cw: arranged marriage, fluff, neglect at the beginning, ratio falling hard, pining, ratio being jealous of aventurine, unedited bc i wrote this with my heart not my brain

my brain has been thinking about an arranged marriage fic with dr. ratio...

he isn't kind to you at first, less than happy to share a life with a mere acquaintance. he's heard about you before in passing, noting your achievements with a grain of salt because nothing about you particularly mattered to him, irrelevant against the mass of scrolls and books he needs to read.

you don't really disturb his normal routine too much. you move in to his estate with a fair share of your belongings, but none of them crowd his house too much. you have your own room, pristine guest room unearthed by your artistic touch.

aside from dinners, you don't get to see each other too much. he starts his mornings early, getting up at the crack of dawn to exercise and start his day with a hearty meal. you wake up later, partaking in a slow morning, and if you glanced out the window, you might be able to see your husband running laps around the expanse of his gardens.

you admire his dedication and routine, it's fascinating to live beside a genius. everyday, the chest table that sits in the living room changes, the black and white pieces never remaining where you last recalled. the size of his blackboard is impressive, and yet too small to fit all of the formulas his brain remembers, hands effortlessly dancing along the surface to scratch number after number.

a frequent order of his estate is chalk. a new pile is delivered every three days, and he goes through them without fail every time.

during dinner, he tries to spare some conversation with you. you don't tell him too much about your day, not wanting to bore him with your menial chores. he's only half-listening either way, so you'll feign understanding about his work when he explains what he's up to.

ratio is not an attentive husband, but he doesn't mistreat you, either. he allows you to spend his assets without too much care, doesn't police your everyday tasks, and also doesn't bat an eye at other men or women. his pursuit of intelligence is important, and your wellbeing would not come in between that.

your monotonous, distant routine changes one autumn dusk. you're perched in the front yard with an easel set up before you, the sky in front of you now a blend of pink-purple hues. he returns home earlier than you expected, carriage stopping at the front of his estate, and he witnesses you in your tranquil state.

the paint strokes on the canvas before you are skilled, and show years of dedication to the craft. you're so invested in the piece before you, that you don't even hear him approaching until he calls your name.

"the night turns colder with each minute. shouldn't you come inside before you fall ill?" the scholar greets, and you're snapped out of your creative reverie, looking over at him.

"oh, i had not realised. let me clean up here, first." you take your canvas off the easel, but to your surprise, your spouse kneels down to organise your oil paints back into their box.

"make haste, then," he urges.

during dinner, he can't help but be curious over your hobby, the stubborn splotches of paint clinging to your hands visible to him. that night, you engage in uninterrupted conversation, and discover that he's an artist himself- a sculptor. it calms him, and all the statues reside in a removed room, adjacent to his study.

despite your years of matrimony, you had never once dared enter his study, but the design is so fittingly him. it is organised (well, as organised a genius can be), with shelves and shelves filled with books, discarded scrolls lay around the room, but even then, his taste for greco-roman aesthetics are seen. roman dorics act like stands for little plants, and his many certificates are displayed, along with other achievements.

(his study is overwhelmingly filled with them. though you knew of the merit of the man you were arranged to be married to, you had never known just how expansive the list is. perhaps, that only made him more intimidating to you, standing beside a genius does not feel so light to say anymore.)

he shows you his sculptures, and though many of them are... self portraits... the likeness is disgustingly accurate. it was as if he had casted himself in plaster and displayed it proudly. you wonder how long he must have stared in the mirror to perfect their appearance.

but, there are also various other formidable statues. some of people you recognise. you compliment his skill and don't get to see the blush that spreads along his cheeks.

it seems that you've chipped a way into his heart, because between brushstrokes and chiselled marble, he falls in love with you.

ratio knows he didn't start off being the best husband, but he tries to now, and begins by being present. asks you to dine together where possible, listens when you're talking about your day, and the two of you can be seen venturing downtown together; an unbelievable sight for those who believed that ratio was romantically inept.

perhaps, an even more unbelievable sight, was the soft smile on his face that glanced at you very adoringly, and how you remained unaware of his affections.

and, maybe a jealous veritas ratio is just as unbelievable.

he is practically glaring daggers at the side of a certain blond's head. ratio has never been fond of the scheming businessman, aventurine, and is even less so of the fact that you seem so close to him, more than you are with your own husband. you're speaking with him like how one would with old friends, a peaceful visit to the markets turned sour by his presence.

when you finally, finally, finally, bid farewell to aventurine, who gave ratio a look that signified he was up to no good, your husband held your hand in his gloved one with an unforgiving grip. his mood is dampened for the remainder of the day, and is only made better when you enquire about his sudden glumness, visiting his office to see if he was alright.

you leave him with a kiss on the crown of his head, and a whisper of 'goodnight', before retreating to your chambers, and the only thought that circulates in his head for the rest of the night is you, and how he's going to sweep you off your feet.

In Your Defense [PT 1 - Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi? AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length. Trying to get everyone done today. It's my last day off for a few.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

Riddle likes to think he's made great strides not being angry but hearing some utterly disgusting joke about 'how much do you cost?' sends him like nothing else ever has. This guy is tall and so unimpressive, so plain, so average that Riddle can't really recall him at all. Maybe that's just the absolute fury blurring his vision. He knows he's not breathing but his chest isn't burning near as much as his face; the heat is spreading quick and he can feel it in his cheeks and neck. Temples pounding, his vaguely aware of the growl bubbling in his chest as it threatens to slip past his clenched teeth.

Ace calls it his teapot snarl.

Before Riddle knows it, he's flown off the handle and he's going off on a rant. The whole shop is quiet, people physically backing away as he just methodically unravels everything about this cretin from outfit, posture, presence, delivery, unoriginality--everything. Honestly, he doesn't even remember everything he said. The redhead doesn't even tune back into the sound of his own voice until he ends the onslaught with, "You've just paid twenty thaumarks to embarrass yourself but that pales in comparison to the fact that you thought you had a chance with them. You should be ashamed!"

The man slinks away, sad little bag dragging off the counter.

Whispers and giggles diffuse throughout the shop. He ignores the looks that come his way, using the time to come back to himself. Riddle fixes his cute casual clothes, content with the fact you picked them out together. He catches sight of the matching rose clips on your outfit and in you hair and smiles softly. "A strawberry cookie and a cake pop, please." he clears his throat, fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

Sam had an assortment of sweets and he was going to capitalize on strawberry's popularity while he could. He saw you root through the display case, carefully considering the designs even though they were all supposed to taste the same (allegedly).

"Sure thing. Your total is 12 thaumarks. Thanks for stopping by Sam's Mystery Shop! Happy Valentine's Day!"

He hands you the thaumarks as you take the time to slide the I LOVE YOU cookie in his bag.

----

Deuce is an honors student! He is a good boy that's going to make his mother proud!

HE IS SO GOING TO PUNCH THIS MOTHERFUCKER IN THIS FACE!

His shoulders tense, fist clenching at his side. "Why, you think they're cheap? Something to be bought? What an insult!" his head snaps up as he stares down the slightly taller boy. Deuce's teal eyes turn a dark turquoise; the giddy glint of seeing you and chocolate eggs in one place turns to something sharp and steely. He hands the chocolate eggs to Ace, turning right back around to stare the creep down. Old habits die hard; he's grinding a fist into his hand.

"Aren't you the guy always complaining about limited time sales being unfair? Not my problem you missed the window." the guy scoffs, leaning back against the cashier counter. "Anyways," the guy tilts his head back and starts talking to you.

You look uncomfortable and angry that you can't handle this yourself. Professionalism and all.

"You may have caught the window but I'm about to show you the door." Deuce draws up on him with a quickness people have never seen. Not many people know about all the fights he used to get into. Gripping the guy's hair almost to the point of pulling it out, steering him like a panicked bull, Deuce all but chucks him out the front door of the shop. He turns around to walk back inside and buy his chocolate eggs but that spine-tingling feeling of someone fixing to take a cheap shot makes him pivot and nail the guy with a solid kick to the chest. The guy falls back on his butt, breath hitching.

Deuce scoffs and wipes his shoes on the step before going into the shop. The door is almost closed behind him when he hears a strained grunt. He's been in enough fights to know the guy is off the ground and making one last attempt to catch him from the back. More than done with this and just wanting his damn eggs and to say hi to you in all your festive lace, he shoulder checks the door like he's trying to shove Jack out of the lunch line (which he would NEVER, EVER DO).

The guy falls with a satisfying thud and Deuce tries his best to relax his face as he resumes his place in line. It's red from aggravation and the fact he's fishing for his thaumarks because he's forgotten what pocket he put it in. "Sorry about that," he tries to uncrumple the thaumarks a little before handing them to you. "And the face. My face. Not your face! Your face is fine! Like, you're not ugly! I just, uh--"

"Take the change, Deuce-y!" Ace is standing behind him, guiding his nervous body like a puppet. He makes Deuce grab the change and turns him around, shoving him away from the counter before he can make it any worse. "Now help me move this guy's body! He's out cold!"

---

Ace can only laugh when he hears that line. First of all, it's weak. Secondly, the dude must not have any faith in his game if the delivery depends on you being captive behind the counter. During work hours. With an obligation to be forward facing and listening to whatever he says.

"Why? You worried about your budget, buddy?" Ace laughs, hands laced together behind his head.

The guy snaps up, stick-straight. "N-No! I was just--" his face is blooming pink.

"People aren't products, bro. There's no discounts." Ace shakes his head.

"W-What I meant was, I want to take you on a date!" the guy turns back to you and flashes a big smile. All of Ace's pouty mutters fall on deaf ears. Not because he's being quiet, but because the guy is straight up ignoring him. He's not sure where the idea comes from--he'll blame it on an itchy hand--but he sneaks a couple of small candies in the guy's pocket. Sam's familiar top hat bobs into view, snaking around the shelves.

"DON'T FORGET TO PAY FOR THE STUFF IN YOUR POCKETS!" Ace felt confident in his sleight of hand tricks. It wouldn't be the first time he tricked NRC students. It's actually really easy to do. That works in his favor because if everyone can't get their story straight or agree on what they saw, he's a free man.

Sam materializes at the edge of the aisles and seems to stare into the boy's soul. "Young man, please step aside."

Ace looks like the cat that ate the canary as he moseys up to the counter and slaps the box of cherry cordials down. He buys a cherry sucker at the last second, not seeing it at first. "Thanks, Sweets!" Ace winks at you as he strolls out with the bag.

Sam nearly scares him out of his skin, leaning against the wood just outside the door. Ace finally feels the tug of shadows on his feet. "Speaking of sweets," Ace flinches and hides his ear with his blazer, groaning as Sam hooks an arm around his neck and pulls him into his chest sternly. "I understand your frustration, Little Imp. Young love is adorable in all it's wiles! But mark my words, Little Imp: if you lie about wrongdoings in my shop again, you will not come back. Clear?"

"Yes sir." Ace gulps.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Little Imp."

---

Trey isn't really surprised to hear what he just did. 'Boys will be boys', as the saying goes. Frankly, he's disappointed. He's heard smarter things come out of his little brother and sister.

He adjusts his glasses, mentally trying to relax the knot between his eyebrows.

Should he say something? Of course he wants to. It's you! He's been on the other side of the counter plenty of times and has had vivid daydreams of sticking a customer in a stand mixer. But, then again, he has a reputation to uphold and anything he does could reflect back on Riddle.

And send Riddle into a fit, giving him something else to handle.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he'd have the element of surprise. People--especially men--don't cook enough to know how much arm strength it takes to lift twenty pound bags of flour on the regular. Or the stamina it takes to walk said bags from Sam's shop to Heartslabyul. Even the small five-pound bag of sugar in his basket would suffice as a weapon; the sugar was packed enough to hit like a brick if he lobbed it.

Trey's running the options through his head, almost settling on just saying 'how much for you to stop?' when he sees the end of a sucker rolling between the guy's teeth. Too easy, Trey pushes his glasses up on his nose, hand hiding his smile and the quiet incantation for "Paint the Roses".

All of a sudden the guy is gagging and running for the door. You and everyone else are wondering what the hell just happened. He doesn't come back in. One brave soul suggested he had a really bad gag reflex and the sucker did him in. Only Trey knows it was a mix of sour milk and the pungent soy sauce tart nightmare he tricked Riddle into making once.

"Just this, please. Oh! And what Sam had on hold for me." Trey hands you the sugar, relishing in the brush of your hands.

"Candied violets and a bag of sugar. Twenty thaumarks, please."

"Thanks." Trey smiles at you, laying the sugar flat so his delicate, delectable candied violets don't get crushed.

"Thank you." you smile brightly, handing him the change.

----

Cater wants to gag. Normally Valentine's confessions are cute and IN THE RIGHT SETTING pickup lines are amazing. This? This is a tragedy. Mostly because there is ZERO chemistry and you look #uncomfortable.

He's big on consent since he's always looking for collabs and people to pose with on Magicam so maybe that's why this scene bothers him. Aside from the fact that you're out of this guy's league, obviously. Like, it's really an insult to your time.

'How much do you cost?' Really? You're #priceless.

His brows furrow, lips thinning as he wonders what to do. He plays with the idea of Split Card and creating a small crowd of copies to boo and jeer the guy but the store would be even more packed than it already is. Cater's green eyes twinkle as it hits him. Turning his phone longways, he zooms in on the guy and tells him to keep going because he's live on Magicam. "Don't worry! I've already got all the V-day tags on there! Everyone will see it!"

He's friends with practically everyone at NRC so this guy will be seen by everyone.

Something sick and unfriendly and satisfied swirls in him as the guy's face pales in real time. If he zooms in a little, he can get the beads of sweat in there. "I'll, uh--another time, okay?" the guy darts off and abandons his handful of candy at the register.

"Haul coming later! 'K, bye!" Cater sends a peace sign to the camera, smiling at his own face. He swipes the little chocolates into his basket nonchalantly. He's not even the biggest sweets person but those are his now!

"Gonna have a spicy Valentine's Day, huh?" you ring up the cups of spicy ramen.

"You know it!" he laughs.

"I get it. You have to balance out how sweet you are." you smirk up at him. "Twenty-four thaumarks, please."

#in love. #kiddingnotkidding. #sendhelp. #downbad.

----

Leona doesn't even know why he bothered to show up to Sam's. He could just send Ruggie to get whatever he wanted. The variety of jerky was somewhat tempting but he could just as easily take the bus and get a proper meal off campus. And yet, he stood there with a gloved hand in his pocket, tail swishing back and forth in mild agitation. His green eyes sweep over the winding line until they land on you at the front.

His cheeks warm a little and he scoffs at himself, pretending to pick through the hanging strips of sunflower seeds as the line moves. Every step gets him closer to this soft, powdery scent with just a hint of sweetness. He starts to blame it on all the chocolate and candy and sugary shit exploding out of every possible spot in the store but there's this unmistakable undertone of skin.

Your skin.

He's only caught the scent a million times while hiding from people in the Botanical Gardens. Or when he's forced to attend class, catching a hint of you in the halls.

Leona's not sure why he cares anything about you because you're not magical. You're not interesting.

You shouldn't be, but you are.

You're literally the only person he's ever met from another world. You have no context for the Sunset Savanna or the hierarchy of it. To you, everyone is impressive. He can be something to you.

Why does that matter? He doesn't even know. That's what he tells himself, anyways. You say you have no magic but Leona thinks you can read minds. The look you always give him isn't a pitying one, but a curious one that seeks to dissect him and force him to face everything he keeps shoved deep down inside himself.

Part of him is waiting for the day you pull the right thread and he comes undone in the way he knows he need but can't find the strength for. Somewhere in that knotted mess is his true feelings for you. The stuff he can't admit.

You stand admirably on your own two feet, roughing it out like Ruggie, but you're so far from the intimidating women of the Sunset Savanna. You're approachable and soft; you're built like prey but you have the quick thinking of a predator.

Something in your demeanor changes--your hands pause and flutter nervously--and he's on alert. He's careful to relax his grip lest he crush the box of protein bars for Jack. His ears sling forward and his eyes narrow as he catches that half-baked flirting attempt. Leona doesn't even bother to hide the sneer twisting his face.

Just the thought of you with that hopeful schmuck is nauseating.

Suddenly the scent of all the males around you is overwhelming. Disgusting.

"If you have to ask about the price, you can't afford it. Haven't ya ever heard that before?" Leona 'hmphs' triumphantly, one hand on his hip as he bends down slightly to stare the chump in the face. "Askin' about the price is tacky."

"Wh-what was my total again?"

All Leona had to do was stare at the back of the human's neck. Humans, much like prey animals, grew really squirmy when a predator stared at them too long. Or encroached on their space, much like he was doing. It was for the hell of it at this point.

Leona made a mental note of the guy's face as he scampered off like a terrified cub and looked forward to the day he could send a stray spelldrive disk in his direction.

"Hey Herbivore," Leona plunked the basket down unceremoniously.

"Hey Leona," you looked down at the random stuff in his basket, trying not to smile at what just happened. Something warm and--dare he say it?--proud welled up in his chest when he realized you were happy about him scaring the guy off.

The heart-shaped stickers he kept finding on everything when he got back to Savanaclaw helped, too.

----

Ruggie lived for the holiday specials at Sam's. He was a bit put out that he wasn't picked to staff the Valentine's shift but the in-store discounts were a small consolation. It'd be better if he could stack them with an employee discount but he'd take what he could get! His mouth started watering as soon as he entered, sniffing out deliciously fluffy donuts.

Hopefully people would be distracted with the lollypops and chocolates and leave his donuts alone!

He choked down the occasional nervous whine when people gravitated too close to the donut display, distracting himself with the decor and wondering what would be most profitable to flip. His eyes began to wander to the people in front of him; Ruggie tsk'd at how casual and unguarded they were. Ripe for the picking, he looked at their wallets and fistfuls of thaumarks just out in the open.

If he wasn't worried about being banned from Sam's and losing some gigs he'd--

"How much do you cost?"

EXCUSE ME?! Ruggie freezes, eyes going wide and ears twitching when he hears that. The dude said that and LIVED?

Oh, right. You're not a Savanna girl. The girls back home would beat him up and make him pay them to stop. Or just smack the shit out of him hard enough to put him in a coma. Maybe break his jaw so he can't drop anymore awful lines.

Women are to be respected! Not treated like something you can purchase!

Given that you weren't a Savanna girl and were bound by the rules of 'I'm currently on the clock', Ruggie took things into his own hands. You could just treat him later!

"Laugh with Me!" Ruggie hisses, backing into the closest display. It was a little bump to him but far more to the guy up front. He waved his arm around, skimming the bags of gummy candies while the guy at the register knocked down a whole tower of balloons on a stick. Bending over just enough to line the guy's head up with the counter, Ruggie lunges forward.

WOMP!

Oh it was so satisfying. The guy is hopelessly, helplessly stunned. He gathers his bearings and Ruggie slides his foot out; the guy loses his footing and slams into the counter again.

Only two times before he gives up? Kind of weak-willed, Ruggie thinks with a little smirk as he side-steps the disoriented guy and waits patiently to check out. Sam tends to him while you get the donuts he's been craving.

They'll taste even better because they smell like you. Happy Valentine's Day to him!

-----

Jack is usually very stoic but a lot of people mistake his stoic observation for irritation. He would blame it on his intimidating physique but he's not sorry and takes great pride in his appearance. He's a beastman--a Howl!--he's supposed to be intimidating! Intimidating appearance aside, Jack is also a very helpful soul.

A good boy, if you will.

The only reason he's in Sam's is on Ruggie's behalf. He was tasked with picking up a few things and was more than happy to help out his senior. They were from the same dorm, after all! Practically a pack! You have to help your pack!

He's not really bothered by the amount of people, more focused on keeping his tail out of people's way and making sure he doesn't knock anything over. All at once, the atmosphere changes a little. There's a hint of sour in the air and a noticeable hike in someone's pulse.

It's your pulse. You look...distressed? Why are you distressed? Where is the threat?

Whatever it was, he missed it and he's cursing himself.

His ears swing forward as he catches bits and pieces of conversations. Some people are complaining the guy is taking too long, other people are laughing at his crappy pickup line. Some people are wondering if it's going to work.

This was a weak display if he ever saw one. The guy didn't even look confident in himself! All of your body language has now firmed up into rejection but the guy's not getting the hint. He's trying the 'oh, c'mon!' thing his siblings do when they want to play.

You don't know it, but you've been feeding Jack when he trots by in wolf form. He likes to finish off his morning jogs in wolf form to really stretch his joints and obliques. It was supposed to be a one-off thing, him following the tantalizing aroma of food to your door. Your cooking is fantastic and while you don't know that you're a pack mate, you're a pack mate!

You're just a pack mate who feeds him and gives him occasional pets. And these to die for scratches that he'd kill to feel with his real skin instead of fur. Any touch would be fine, really. Not that you'd ever know.

Jack doesn't even know he's growling until people start moving out of his way. The growl crescendos as he walks towards the guy. Tail bristling, Jack opens his mouth to show off sharp canines. "Get lost! They're not interested in you! They're just trying to work!"

As expected, the guy tucks tail and runs. Jack snorts, licking his lips that have suddenly become dry. His ears don't know what to do, caught between catching all the murmurs behind him and wanting to press down in embarrassment.

It's quiet but he hears it. "Thank you, Jack."

"Don't mention it," he crosses his arms, looking everywhere but you as you scan his items. He was avoiding looking at you directly but he notices you slip a few extra beef sticks into his bag. He blushes.

Yeah, don't mention that either.

Because I'm a massive nerd: have some character analysis involving gem language and the gems the Leech twins are named after.

Fluorite is a precious stone named after the Latin word “flux” which means “continuous change.” It is associated with growth: removing negative energy, promoting positivity, and increasing self-confidence.

When cleansing the body from stress, fluorite primarily protects the intellect. It promotes concentration, memory retention, and can be used as a learning aid or for making big decisions. Green fluorite is especially good for this.

While fluorite’s namesake refers to spontaneity, geologists consider it a stable, predictable gem used to measure the hardness of other gems and minerals on the Mohs scale. Its strength is a reliable factor in determining how resistant other minerals are. In other words: fluorite helps you discover your true limits and potentials.

Besides aiding the mind, fluorite energizes as well as grounds the heart in "the now," especially during moments of high anxiety. Not to say it disregards the past and the future; it just prefers to work on who you are at present, recognizing you as an ever-changing, inevitable, unstoppable force in the universe. It promotes compassion towards oneself and encourages one to be the best they can be by opening their heart to fun and love instead of embracing past trauma.

In this sense, fluorite is wonderful for conducting work on your inner child, and is especially responsive to younger people (or those young-at-heart).

A softer mineral, true fluorite tends to bear many natural imperfections on its surface. Some may attribute this to recklessness, hyperactivity, or immaturity. But beneath its scuffs and rough edges, fluorite is a colorful, hearty stone overflowing with positivity… that even glows under ultraviolet light! What a funky little guy.

Jadeite is a highly prized gem that promises safety and balance in one’s life. Like fluorite, it is also a cleansing stone which relies on a more mature approach to turning negative energy into self-sufficient thoughts and behaviors. However, though beautiful and reliable, jade is cold-to-the-touch, and when stowed away or left unused, can grow incredibly brittle. Therefore, it insists upon being used frequently, if not all the time.

Many believe jade jewelry should be worn for one's entire lifetime, as removing it may invite eternal bad luck.

Only diamond can be used to carve jadeite, the strongest natural stone in the world. Measuring in at around 7 on the Mohs scale, it doesn’t blemish, bend, or break easily. With such reliable strength, it can be carved and manipulated into intricate shapes without fear of shattering.

As jade naturally resists breakage, it is a protective gem that forms a special bond with its owner and is commonly used as a tool for breaking other gems. On the rare occasion it does break, however, jade produces glass-like, razor-sharp edges.

In other words: once broken, handle with caution.

Still, there is a nurturing facet to jade: it promotes vitality, youthfulness, and longevity in people while also extending that power to the earth itself. It was often used in old Chinese rituals to manifest strong crop growth. Today, having a sculpture of a jade bok choy in one’s home is considered a symbol of long life and good health.

Make no mistake: jade would rather be out and about having fun with you and others. Doing so means it can make the most out of the life you have together. Utilizing its gorgeous exterior, it invites long lasting friendships and even romance to those who wear it. People may naturally trust and be drawn to jade wearers as the gem helps create a charmingly positive and tranquil personality.

If you're included, it feels included in turn.

A Chinese saying states “you can put a price on gold, but jade is priceless.” Tied to handling matters of the heart, it is a highly perceptive gem and an invaluable treasure meant to be cherished. Generous, elegant, and fierce, it will serve you well… but only if you do the same for it.

Ok I'm done thank you for coming to my rock talk