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munchieschomp · 2 days ago

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CELEBRATING THIS IS SO GOOD��😩

PART III. 100 Object Boyfriends vs One Ex-Boyfriend

SYNOPSIS: Your ex is coming at 7:00 AM to pick up his stuff. Your object boyfriends have other plans.

TAGS: GN!Reader, Comfort Chapter, Protective everyone, Hurt/Comfort

ps: if i got some facts or names wrong pls forgive me, it’s been a good few weeks (months...?) since i last interacted with the fandom... eheh + i know skips doesn’t have a lip piercing but for sexy purposes he does in this fic

W.C: 6k | CHARACTERS: Tony, Cabrizzio, Daisuke, Cameron, Eddie, Volt, Barry, Johnny Splash, Mateo, Dirk, Dante, Skips, Timothy

PART II

AO3: yasminwayne Ko-Fi: buy me a coffee!

You slouched deeper into the couch, knees tucked up, watching as Timothy positioned himself by the projector wheeled in from God-knows-where. One hand folded neatly behind the back, the other fussing with cufflinks.

"Let me be perfectly clear," he announced. "Left to your own devices, you are a disaster. Therefore, you will no longer be left to your own devices."

Click. The projector blinked awake, washing the wall with its first slide: HEALING PROGRAM™.

EVERYONE WAS ACTING STRANGE.

It had been two days since the incident with Iseul. Two whole days since your ex had shown up uninvited, run his mouth one too many times, and gotten himself kicked out by your boyfriends. Whatever they did to him… it wasn’t normal. Paranormal was probably the better word. You still couldn’t explain how they managed to shift the energy in the house like that, how they’d interacted with him. Skylar hadn’t had a clue either, which was somehow both reassuring and unnerving.

Thankfully, Iseul hadn’t gone to the cops. Well, not that he really could have…

Even if he’d tried, who would’ve believed him? "The haunted furniture ganged up on me?" Yeah, good luck getting that into a police report.

No, the real problem was here, now, inside the house. Everyone was acting weird. Like… weird-weird. The kind of over-the-top, too-sweet weird that made your skin prickle.

For starters, the entire house felt suspiciously baby-proofed. You weren’t allowed to so much as reach for a glass of water before someone had already pressed it into your hand. Doors you swore used to creak open easily now seemed to stay shut until Dorian offered to open them for you. And your favorite hoodie had mysteriously gone missing, which you were ninety percent sure had something to do with Dirk’s sudden newfound interest in "spring cleaning."

And no one said a word. Not about Iseul, not about the strange energy in the house, not about why everyone hovered like you might break at any moment.

It was like the house had collectively decided you needed round-the-clock supervision, and no one was willing to admit it out loud.

You yawned as you padded toward the stairs, arms stretching high over your head until your spine gave a satisfying crack. The grit of sleep still clung to the corners of your eyes, and all you wanted was coffee. Black. Scalding. Now.

But you didn’t even make it to the first step. Heavy, quick footsteps pounded toward you, so familiar you didn’t even have to look. You let out a long-suffering sigh.

"Tony, don’t—"

Too late.

"Hey, snookums," he crooned, and suddenly you were off your feet, swept into his arms as if you weighed no more than a pillow. He looked down at you with a grin so wide it should’ve been blinding.

"Look at you. All warm, all soft. You’re lucky I didn’t march in with a tray of eggs and espresso like those corny movies Cabrizzio watches."

"For the love of—Tony!" you groaned, flopping uselessly against his chest. "I can walk."

"Eh, I know, I know," he said with a shrug, voice thick with that rolling, sing-song lilt you knew too well. Already, he was heading down the stairs with you in tow like it was the easiest thing in the world. "But should you? Nah… not a chance."

"Tony."

"No fightin’ me this early, okay?" His grip tightened just a little, warm and firm. "C’mon… you know I’ve been missin’ you."

You narrowed your eyes. "You saw me five hours ago."

"Eh, five hours, baby… longest five hours of my life, I swear." He let out a dramatic sigh that made your chest hum with warmth. "You got any idea how much I worry when you ain’t around? Breaks my heart."

"Tragic," you deadpanned, but your head tipped against his shoulder just a little, tired enough to let him have this small victory.

He chuckled low and pleased, a rumble vibrating through his chest against your cheek. Then he leaned in, voice dipping smooth and velvet, impossible to resist. "Aw, come on… don’t be like that. Gimme a kiss, just a little sugar for Papa, hm?"

You squinted up at him. "You’re ridiculous."

"And handsome," he added without missing a beat.

You groaned, but your hand came up anyway, palm warm against his cheek, thumb brushing the scruff along his jaw. You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his mouth. It was warm, familiar, and a little too much for how early it was, but you let it linger long enough to feel the hitch of his breath.

"There. Happy?" you muttered against his lips.

His grin went wicked. "Oh, sweetheart, I’m ecstatic."

By the time your feet touched the floor again, you’d already been carried straight into the kitchen. The place was alive with motion: pots clanging, voices overlapping, the smell of eggs and coffee hanging thick in the air. It was a rhythm, the house waking up with half a dozen people all moving at once.

" Buongiorno, amore ," Cabrizzio greeted the moment he saw you. His voice was warm, low with fondness, and before you could answer, he had crossed the room in a few easy strides. He drew you into his arms, his embrace carrying the comfort of basil and olive oil, of home and hearth.

"Look at you," he murmured against your temple. "You’re glowing today. A vision."

Your scowl faltered, melting away beneath the soft press of his words, the tender brush of his lips at your hairline.

"I am making you breakfast," he said, guiding you toward a chair. "Siediti, per favore. Let me take care of you."

Flustered, you let yourself be guided to the chair, sinking into it with a dramatic little huff. You folded your arms in a half-hearted attempt at indifference, but the pretense fell apart the instant your eyes landed on Daisuke.

He was tucked into the farthest corner of the kitchen, one leg curled beneath him, shoulders drawn inward as if trying to take up less space. His quiet presence, usually steady and unshakable, felt muted, subdued. In his good hand, he cradled a mug of black tea. Plain, unsweetened, just the way he liked it. Even from across the room, you noticed how deliberately he held it, as if any sudden movement might topple it. His other arm rested in its sling, pressed close against his chest, guarded and still.

Something tightened in your chest.

Without thinking, you stood and crossed the distance, crouching beside him. "Hey," you said softly, your voice low enough to match the gentle rhythm of his movements. "Can I check it again?"

Daisuke’s gaze lifted, steady and calm, yet softened by something almost like an apology.

"You do not need to," he said quietly, carefully measured.

"I want to."

He paused, the tension in his shoulders flickering as he hesitated. Slowly, the stiffness eased, just enough to give you the faintest sense of surrender, as though he were letting you in despite himself.

"I have already received too much attention," he murmured. "It is not fair to trouble you with this as well."

Your chest pinched. "It’s too late for that. I’m already worried again."

Your hand drifted toward the sling before you even realized it. But the second Daisuke shifted, you froze. He didn’t reject your touch. It was just his body guarding the hurt. Still, the sight made guilt stab through you, and you snatched your hand back as if you’d crossed a line.

"…I’m sorry."

But he moved first. Slowly, carefully, he reached for you, catching your fingers and folding them into his palm.

"No. Do not apologize. It is all right, teacup," he said softly.

You touched him again, like he might shatter under the lightest press of your fingers. The carefulness of it made something twist inside him.

Last night replayed behind his eyes: your face buried in his chest, your body trembling, guilt wracking you until exhaustion claimed you. He had said almost nothing, had only held you, let your tears soak his shirt, wishing he could take it all from you. Even now, he could feel the faint imprint of your grief against him, as real as if it were still there.

"It looks better," you murmured, glancing down at the sling.

He inclined his head, slow, measured. "It hurts less." Then, softer, quieter, almost like a question: "And still… you worry, don’t you?"

Your lips pressed together. "…Of course I do."

Something inside him eased, a small weight lifted, and for the first time that morning, a faint smile brushed his mouth. He nudged your knee lightly with his own, a small, boyish gesture amidst all the tension.

"Then I will do my best to heal quickly. So you won’t have to carry this weight for long."

Your vision blurred, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. Before they could spill, a hand brushed against your cheek. You blinked, startled, and turned to see Cameron holding a crumpled tissue.

"It’s clean, don’t worry," he muttered, tone gruff as he swiped carefully at the dampness beneath your eyes. When he was done, he shoved the tissue into his pocket like it was nothing.

"I already threw out all his crap, so… you can quit crying like a baby now." You stared at him, caught between offense and disbelief. He avoided your gaze, rubbing the back of his neck.

"…Now go eat," he added.

You sniffed, trying to hold yourself together, but the effort broke apart in an instant. The tears spilled hot and fast, streaking down your cheeks until your whole face blurred, shoulders jerking with every uneven breath.

The men around you jolted as one. Hands hovered midair, unsure whether to pat your back or steady your arms; voices overlapped in half-formed questions, worried and fumbling. They meant well, but the noise only pressed tighter against your chest. You shook your head hard through the blur, lifting a trembling hand as if to push them all away.

Cameron didn’t hesitate. He caught you before you could retreat into yourself, tugging you firmly against him. One big hand came to rest at the back of your head, fingers spread steady in your hair, while the other wrapped securely around your shoulders.

"Hey—hey. Easy," he muttered, his voice low, a steady anchor that didn’t quite match the sharp scowl still carved across his face. "You’re alright. I’ve got you."

Your fingers bunched tight in his shirt, knuckles whitening as you clung to the fabric. You pressed closer, cheek pressed to his chest, and the solid weight of him was the only thing keeping you upright. His heartbeat thudded steadily under your ear, a rhythm you could finally breathe to.

That bastard’s gone, Cameron thought, jaw grinding. Every last piece of his crap went up in Dante last night. Ash and smoke—that’s all that’s left. Best damn use that junk ever had. He almost huffed at the memory, a grim satisfaction curling under the heat of his anger.

His palm moved in slow, hesitant circles between your shoulder blades. It was awkward at first, like he wasn’t sure if he was doing it right. He only knew to try because he’d felt you do the same for him before—those absentminded little gestures you gave when he was the one wound tight. So he copied it now, rough hands gentler than he thought they could be, tracing the rhythm he remembered.

Your weight leaned heavier into him, trusting, unguarded. And even with the ache of anger still stiff in his chest, something in him softened at the sight.

"…You’re safe, baby."

If you thought things had been strange before, after your kitchen breakdown, the house went full-on bizarre. Everyone had started orbiting you like satellites, their movements timed to your moods, their eyes darting whenever you shifted too suddenly. And at the center of this strange gravity was Timothy.

Timothy had taken over the living room like it was a personal war council. Your coffee table had been stripped bare. The remote, coasters, even the candle you liked… all gone. In their place: a laptop, a stack of printouts, and a terrifyingly neat schedule printed on cardstock.

"Let me be perfectly clear," he announced. "Left to your own devices, you are a disaster. Therefore, you will no longer be left to your own devices."

Click. The projector blinked awake, washing the wall with its first slide: HEALING PROGRAM™.

A laser pointer flicked on, the red dot circling the title. "Slide one: daily structure. You will rise at seven o’clock sharp. No snoozing alarms, no lying about in bed pretending you’ve died. I will be there to confirm you’re vertical."

You groaned into your knees. "That’s cruel and unusual punishment."

"It’s accountability," he shot back, already clicking to the next slide. "Between seven and nine, you will hydrate, eat a balanced breakfast prepared by the kitchen staff, and complete one page of journaling with Daisuke. I will review it for legibility and, most likely, grammar."

You shot upright. "Grammar?! Timmy, I’m not turning in homework!"

"You are if you want clearance past nine p.m.," he said flatly.

"Clearance?!"

Click. Click. A color-coded grid replaced the bullet points. "At nine, the Hanks take over. And they want you to—" Timothy squinted at the notes, face twisting as if the words physically offended him. " ‘Hankglide .’ Whatever that means. Frankly, it sounds like a broken bone waiting to happen."

You snorted, then broke into helpless laughter. That earned you a scowl sharp enough to cut glass.

"Do not laugh. This is serious. Your physical fitness is clearly lacking and if it takes… ‘Hankgliding’ to ensure cardiovascular improvement, then so be it."

He ignored your wheezing and clicked again. "Slide four: relaxation. Mateo will facilitate puppy exposure between the hours of two and four. Limited sessions. Any attempts to overindulge will result in revoked privileges."

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into the couch cushions. "Revoked privileges? What am I, twelve?"

Timothy didn’t even glance at you. His hand moved, clicking the next slide into view. Click. The words exploded across the wall in bold, black letters: FAILURE TO COMPLY = INTERVENTION LEVEL TWO.

You squinted, leaning forward. "…What’s Level Two?"

Slowly, he turned his head toward you, the angle catching the sharp line of his jaw in the projector light. "Therapy."

Something in the way he said it, without any trace of a joke, cracked you. A soft laugh slipped out, shaking with relief. You sighed, letting your body rise from the couch, feet shuffling toward him.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around him. At first, he tensed, shoulders stiff, a low murmur escaping him, but as you pressed closer, he slowly relaxed, one hand coming up to rest against the small of your back, the other hovering for just a moment before settling gently over your hair.

"You gave us all quite a fright," he murmured, voice lower now, almost fragile. "I refuse to stand by and let you unravel further."

Your chest tightened at the sincerity of it. You leaned into him, feeling the firmness of his stance under your weight, the subtle warmth of his body seeping through your clothes. His thumb brushed absentmindedly along the nape of your neck.

"I may come off… severe," he said quietly, "but understand this: you matter to me. To us. If a regimented schedule is what keeps you standing, then I will fashion one. If what you need is order where there is none, I will provide it. Because the alternative—" His gaze flickered down for just a second, lashes dark against his cheek. "…is losing you. And that is not acceptable."

Your throat tightened. "Oh, Timmy… thank you," you whispered, voice small, breath warm against him.

"Of course," he muttered, still stiff in posture but undeniably softened in presence.

You paused, a quiet silence stretching between you. "...Do I really still have to follow the program?"

"Yes."

And so, despite your protests, the schedule had been followed to the letter, which meant it was now time for the "afternoon pampering" session Barry had penciled in on Timothy’s cardstock.

Barry had you trapped in front of your vanity again; his very own war zone of powders, palettes, and lipsticks, half uncapped and rolling like colorful landmines across the table.

You caught your reflection as he smoothed foundation across your cheek and frowned at the uneven blotches on your skin. The words slipped out before you could stop them. "God, I look like shit."

Barry made a sound so dramatic it nearly rattled the mirror, a gasp-shriek hybrid that came from deep in his chest. His whole body snapped toward you, eyes wide with outrage.

"Excuse me?" His voice cracked sharply, like you’d just told him you drove into a Sephora with your car. His hands shot to your shoulders, pinning you back. "Did you just insult my masterpiece? My canvas? The literal face I’ve been dedicating my artistry to?"

You barely got your mouth open before he was moving. A lipstick was uncapped in one hand, swiped across your lips in a clean motion, then onto his own like he was prepping for war.

And then he attacked.

Not with one kiss, but with dozens. Quick, relentless pecks rained down on your cheeks, your jaw, the tip of your nose. Each came with a loud, ridiculous "mwah," leaving a pink stamp in its wake. He pulled back after every few, inspecting his work with the grave focus of a general surveying a battlefield, only to swoop in again twice as fast.

You squeaked when he caught the corner of your mouth, a sound that made his grin sharpen with victory. "There it is. Evidence. Proof. You’re gorgeous and kissable and tragically, tragically wrong about yourself. Case closed, hun."

You tried to keep still when he finally slowed, lips brushing yours properly now. But then his tongue flicked against the seam of your mouth, slipping in with a slow suck that made your whole body jolt. The sound that escaped you was helpless, high, and humiliatingly small.

Both of you froze.

Then Barry leaned back, eyes lighting up like he’d struck gold. His grin spread slow, feral.

"Ohhh," he sang, drawing the word out. "Was that a squeak? A little squeak?" His teeth tugged your bottom lip just to feel the twitch it dragged out of you.

He chuckled as he finally pulled away, thumb brushing a smear of lipstick from your cheek. His voice dropped softer, steadier.

"No more self-dragging," he said, almost a purr. "You’re way too cute to get away with it."

Your knees were jelly by the time you stumbled out of Barry’s orbit. The mirror had betrayed you: cheeks kissed raw, neck and chest marked in a chaotic pattern only Barry could leave. You pressed your fingers to your lips, still tingling, thinking maybe a hot shower would wash the heat away.

But when you pushed open the bathroom door, steam rolled out, thick and clinging. Heat kissed your skin and made the air shimmer.

Johnny was already there. When he turned, his gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, lingering over every mark Barry had left. Collarbone, chest, the curve of your hip, then up again. The heat coiled in your stomach before the water even touched you.

"Well," he drawled, "you’re shakin’ like a willow in the wind."

Your robe slipped from your shoulders as if on its own, and your bare skin met the warm spray. Johnny shifted, creating space between you, his hand brushing the small of your back, then pressing firmly, drawing you closer. Without a word, you stepped in beside him.

The water hit you like a sigh, washing away the leftover tremor from Barry’s relentless affection. Johnny’s hands followed, big and steady, sliding over your shoulders, pressing in firm circles. He kneaded tension out of your muscles as if it were clay, fingers working, thumbs brushing along bone and sinew until your body relaxed against him.

"That’s it, sugar," he murmured, voice rough velvet, whispering against your ear. "All this tension sittin’ up here like you’re carryin’ the weight of the whole dang world. You gonna give yourself a hump before you even hit fifty."

He leaned in, forehead grazing yours as the water traced down both your backs. His hands slid lower, palms bracing at your hips, thumbs stroking small circles. Then he sank to his knees, water splashing around him, hair plastered to his jawline. From down there, his eyes looked up at you, reverent and impossibly tender, and your stomach flipped.

"Any person’d be blessed just to stand where I’m standin’," he said softly, letting his hands linger against your thighs. "But me? I get to touch you, to hold you…Sugar, I think about that and I feel like I oughta thank somebody every day for lettin’ me."

Your breath caught, cheeks burning. "Johnny—"

"You hush now." He grinned, letting the water drip off his eyelashes, voice low, coaxing. "Let me have my moment, would ya? Don’t get many chances to be poetic in the shower."

You laughed weakly, breathless, letting him guide your legs apart slightly so his hands could massage the trembling in your thighs, kneading it away. You leaned a little, letting your torso press against his chest, feeling his weight anchored beneath the cascade of water.

"You’re such a loser," you muttered, lips twitching despite the heat.

He tilted his head, grin mischievous, eyes soft with devotion. "Yeah, baby. But I’m your loser."

After your shower, you finished a few more errands from Tim’s list, until the clock struck four in the afternoon. Puppy exposure time. Exactly as scheduled. And honestly? You needed it.

Your nerves were taut, fraying at the edges like old rope. Lately, after the visit, they seemed to ignite faster than ever, and Mateo always noticed first. He didn’t ask; he didn’t need to. The shallow hitch of your breath, the restless grind of your fingers until nails scraped skin. He read it all before you even had a chance to spiral.

"Hey," he said, voice soft and steady, already tugging you down onto the rug with him. Before you realized, a blanket was draped over your shoulders, its weight grounding you like a familiar anchor.

The inanimals immediately picked up on the shift. Paws skittered against the hardwood, tails thumping, noses sniffing the air as the pack swarmed closer. But this time, there was a newcomer slinking along with the familiar group. You blinked. Something stitched together from scraps of telephone wire, copper, and black cords, had been twisted into the rough shape of a pup. Its tiny paws clicked lightly as it trotted forward, its head tilting curiously at you, a faint hum resonating through the wires.

You froze. Mateo chuckled, low and warm, pressing gently against the back of your shoulder. "Don’t worry. She’s friendly. Found her following me this morning." His fingers scratched under the little wire pup’s chin. It tilted into the touch, the cords shifting with a soft static fizz.

Before you could second-guess the moment, Mateo’s arms wrapped tighter around you, pulling you half into his lap. His chest pressed firmly against your back, warm and steady, grounding you. One hand combed gently through your hair, untangling the tension as if it were a stubborn knot.

"See?" he murmured, cheek brushing against yours, breath warm and sure. "Nothing can touch you here. Not when I’ve got you."

The inanimals began their gentle chaos. One pup wriggled onto your stomach with a satisfied grunt, pressing close. Another pawed at your hands, nudging them toward Mateo. The wire pup clambered awkwardly over your legs, cords dragging with a faint electrical hiss. Mateo smiled as you let out a small laugh.

"Better?" he asked. You nodded, feeling it. The way your body softened, shoulders releasing, tension melting into the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your back. His smile pressed to your temple, soft and certain, as if he’d known all along that you’d surrender to this comfort eventually.

One of the inanimals pawed at your hand, insisting on attention. Mateo guided your fingers to scratch behind its ears, and it immediately flopped onto its side, tail thumping. Another nudged your cheek with wet warmth, eliciting a soft chuckle from you. The wire pup’s hum shifted slightly under your touch, vibrating faintly as if approving.

"See?" Mateo murmured again, holding your hand over the little wire pup’s head. "You’re safe. You’re home."

You let yourself sink fully into him, closing your eyes. The chaos of the inanimals, the warm weight of the blanket, Mateo’s grounding presence, it all stitched you back together, thread by thread. Paws tapped and tails wagged, little bodies pressing against yours, and the wire pup traced gentle arcs across your knees, buzzing faintly. Mateo’s hands remained steady on your back and in your hair, fingers kneading gently, smoothing out every last knot of anxiety.

When your eyes opened, you caught his gaze, soft and certain, a quiet promise in the curve of his smile.

"We’ll always be here," he murmured.

Night had already fallen, shadows pooling along the baseboards, when you finally wriggled out of Tim’s meticulously plotted schedule. Freedom tasted sweeter than it should have, like you’d cheated the system and won.

The victory lasted all of three steps down the hall before your nose twitched. Smoke. Not thick, but sharp enough to sting the back of your throat. You slowed, blinking, and followed the scent trail to the living room.

Dirk stood rigid at the hearth, one of your ex’s old hoodies dangling from his hand. He hurled it into the fire with a flick of his wrist. Flames, fed and coaxed by Dante’s outstretched palms, flickered and hissed, devouring the cotton in a shower of sparks. The air smelled of burning detergent and something far more acrid, like... anger.

"Bad memories don’t belong here," Dirk muttered, every word sharp. His jaw was tight, shoulders tensed like he was holding something in.

Dante glanced at him, hands steady, palms glowing faintly in the firelight. He didn’t argue, just fed the blaze quietly, perfectly complicit.

Then, as if on cue, both of them noticed you.

Dirk froze mid-throw, half a sleeve dangling from his grip. Dante’s fire guttered, shrinking as if ashamed. Slowly, they turned toward you.

You raised your brows. "...What exactly am I walking in on?"

Dirk cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly. "Spring cleaning," he offered, but the words came out flat.

"Bit late in the year for that," you said, folding your arms and smirking. "And you used that excuse days ago."

Dante’s lips twitched, and the heat at his palms flickered down to the soft, steady glow of the fireplace. "We were just… helping," he admitted, sheepish, like a kid caught sneaking cookies from the jar.

"Helping," you repeated, deadpan. "By turning my living room into a bonfire?"

Dirk dropped the sleeve into the flames anyway, muttering something you couldn’t catch. When he looked back at you, the bravado was gone, replaced by that sheepish grin. "They didn’t deserve to sit in your drawers anymore," he said finally. "Not after what they put you through."

The room fell silent except for the soft crackle of burning fabric.

You just stared at them. Your ridiculous, overprotective idiots, standing shoulder to shoulder in front of the fire like some sacred burning had been staged in your honor. And for some reason, your chest warmed, despite the smoke.

You stepped closer, taking in the way Dirk’s shoulders were still tense, the small twitch of his fingers as he flexed them. You reached out, letting your hand hover for a heartbeat before brushing against his arm. Dirk stiffened at first, then relaxed ever so slightly under the touch.

Dante’s eyes followed, softening as he watched your movements. You leaned down, pressing a careful hand to his forearm, letting your fingers trail over the slight warmth from his earlier firework. He let out a small breath, one that sounded like relief, and his posture slackened a touch.

"Alright," you said, voice gentle, teasing. "You’re both insane. But…" You exhaled, tilting your head to catch Dirk’s gaze. "My heart is safe now… can’t say the same for my old hoodies."

Both of them perked up, expressions shifting into that familiar mix of protectiveness, mischief, and quiet pride.

You couldn’t resist. Leaning up, you pressed a soft kiss to Dirk’s cheek. Then you moved to Dante, letting your lips brush his temple.

"They’re gone," you murmured, tracing the air just above the fire grate. "All of it."

Dirk leaned closer. "You really don’t know how much you’re worth to us, do you?"

Dante’s chuckle joined in, quiet but warm. "Worth more than anything we could ever let harm you."

"I know that," you murmured, pressing your forehead against Dirk’s shoulder for a moment, letting the warmth seep in, mingling with the faint trace of smoke still lingering in the room.

"Oh. And just to be clear," you said, teasing yet soft, letting a small smile tug at your lips, "I forgive you for the mini inferno."

Dirk snorted, rolling his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifted into a sly grin. "Next time, we’ll make it a proper barbecue."

The house was quiet, almost too quiet. You wandered down the hall, drawn by a faint electric hum that made the air tingle against your skin. Your steps slowed as the sound grew stronger, pulling you toward the breaker box.

And there he was. Volt, leaning casually against the wall, half in shadow, the subtle bluish shimmer of his skin catching the dim light. His posture was relaxed, but the tension in his shoulders, the tight set of his jaw... it all said he was holding back.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You stopped a few feet away, noticing the way the hum of electricity seemed to pulse in time with your own racing heartbeat. Volt’s eyes met yours, lingering longer than usual. You could feel the weight of days unspoken hanging between you.

He lifted a hand, almost like testing the waters, and held it out. You stepped closer, each movement measured. When your fingers brushed his, he pressed a soft, deliberate kiss to the back of your hand. The touch was slow, intentional, a bridge across the silence of the last few days.

"My dear," he murmured, voice low and warm, silk over steel, carrying a weight you hadn’t heard in a long time.

You studied him, thumb gliding over his knuckles, taking in the subtle tension in his frame, the way his eyes flicked to yours and away, then back. "Hey," you said finally, voice soft, careful. "I… saw what happened. You really wore yourself out back then."

Volt’s grin was slow to form, almost shy, the mischief tempered by exhaustion and relief. His eyes flashed that familiar spark, tempered now by something gentler, more vulnerable. "Angry? Maybe. Protective? Definitely. Worth it? Always. If it keeps you safe," he said, voice low, letting each word linger in the space between you.

"Anyone who even thinks of hurting you…" His voice dropped to a low rumble, sending a spike through your chest. "…they will regret it."

The silence stretched again after that, not uncomfortable, but heavy with things unsaid. You shifted slightly, letting your hand stay in his, feeling the subtle charge beneath his skin. Every small movement, every blink, every pause seemed loaded, as if the two of you were reacquainting yourselves with each other in the quiet of the night.

Your hand pressed to his chest, feeling the faint warmth beneath the subtle current. "Never seen you like that before," you murmured.

Volt’s grin shifted. "Ah… but how would you like me then?" Without waiting, he took your hand, guiding you toward the empty bar. His cheek brushed yours, breath warm, hands steady at your waist. Every movement was teasing, measured, yet intimate, sending a warmth through your chest that made your pulse hitch.

"You feel that?" he murmured near your ear. "Just us. No distractions. Nothing else matters. Just you… and me."

You shivered, heart racing, trying to match his calm confidence. "Volt…"

He laughed softly, rich and teasing, and dipped his head to press a lingering kiss to your temple. "Shh… no words. Just this. Let me hold you."

You melted into him, letting the warmth carry you. He swayed you gently, one hand gliding along your back, the other at your waist, fingers curling around yours when you fidgeted.

"Always," he murmured, voice honeyed, cheek brushing yours, gaze soft and unwavering. "Always for you, my dear."

You pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the pulse beneath his skin, and let a soft, genuine smile spread across your face. "Always," you echoed, closing your eyes and letting the warmth settle through every nerve.

Tuckered out from dancing with Volt, you decided to stay the night near the breaker box. The soft hum of electricity became a steady, oddly comforting rhythm, filling the quiet corners of the room. Volt curled nearby, finally at rest, his bluish tint fading as he relaxed under your presence. The steady rise and fall of his chest, the gentle twitch of a fingertip now free of tension, drew your gaze, and you let yourself trace the curve of his jaw, memorizing the familiar lines.

You weren’t asleep, though. Instead, you found yourself lying face-to-face with Eddie. Somehow, without words, you’d drifted here together.

Slowly, carefully, he guided your trembling fingers over the map of scars etched across his skin: jagged burns, rough edges, the fingerprints of lightning.

"This one…" he murmured, voice low, deliberate, "a short circuit…almost had me. But I made it." His thumb brushed along one of the deeper, more jagged marks, and your hand followed, tracing the contours, learning his story through touch.

Gradually, his shoulders softened, tension sliding out like smoke through an open window. The tight lines of worry eased, and for a fleeting moment, he seemed lighter, almost fragile in the most human, honest way.

By the time your fingers returned to rest in his, your chest tightened. Not from fear, but from a sudden, overwhelming realization. Every person in this house, every "intervention," every chaotic touch, every gentle hand guiding you, every meticulously crafted schedule, every puppy pile, they had all been for you. The sheer magnitude of it pressed on your heart, swelling warmth through your ribs.

"Your brain is thinking too much again." Eddie’s voice cut through the soft hum of the room.

"You know… I hate it when you don’t get it," he continued, low and careful. "How much… how much every single one of us loves you. But I can’t make you understand. I just… want you to know. Truly know."

You swallowed, fingers tracing idle patterns against the fabric beneath you. "I… I do get it," you whispered, voice trembling despite yourself.

He shook his head slightly, a faint, exasperated smile tugging at his lips. "You think you do. But sometimes, seeing it, feeling it… maybe then it’ll stick. Because you are loved. Every single one of us. More than you even imagine."

Eddie’s words had hit harder than you thought, echoing in your chest long after he’d whispered them. Even after hours of tossing and turning, your mind refused to quiet. Eventually, you found yourself up again, moving through the quiet house, letting your feet carry you wherever they pleased.

The hallway was dim, shadows pooling along the walls. Your fingers traced the doorframes, half-worried, half-relieved that nobody had followed you… until a curl of darkness slid up behind you, warm and fluid, wrapping around your silhouette like ink in water. Skips.

He didn’t say anything at first, letting you notice him slowly. Shadows pooled at his feet and curled lightly around your legs as he stepped closer. His eyes met yours, dark and intent, and the rest of the world seemed to shrink away.

"I…" you started, voice small. Then you laughed a little at yourself, embarrassed. "I don’t even know what to say. I… I don’t know what I did to deserve all of this… you all… this love."

Skips' lips curved faintly, almost amused, though his eyes stayed serious. Shadows drifted up to brush your shoulders gently.

"Dragged?" he murmured, voice low and quiet, teasing even. "No. You didn’t drag anyone, Penumbra. You… saved us. Don’t twist it into something it isn’t."

You swallowed, tugging at your sleeve. "But… maybe I’m not… I don’t know… I’m scared I’m the reason things warp. What if I ruin it?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. You gave us something real… something worth holding onto. Everything we feel—it’s because of you. Not in spite of you. Got it?"

"I… I don’t know if I’m worthy," you admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

Skips' shadows shifted, wrapping around you protectively, cocoon-like. He reached up, pressing a hand gently to your cheek, tilting your face toward his.

"Baby," he murmured, voice trembling slightly. "Penumbra… you’re more than worthy. You don’t earn this. You are it. And if you ever doubt that…" He leaned closer, shadows curling around you tenderly. "…we’ll spend every second proving it to you. Every. Single. Second."

You blinked, heart hammering. "Even… if it’s too much?"

"Never too much," he said softly, exhaling a shaky laugh. "Not with me. Not with any of us. You’re ours… all of you. And I…" He hesitated, voice thick with emotion. "…I am completely yours. I’ll keep you, love you, protect you. If I have to whisper it a thousand times, I will. If I have to grovel, I will. You’re worth it. You always have been."

You let your forehead rest against his, breathing him in. The warmth, the shadows, the careful weight of his presence pressing around you. "You really mean that?"

He brushed your hair back with one hand, shadows lingering softly around your form. "Every word," he said quietly, almost shyly. "Even the ones that make me sound insane. You… you make me feel steady. Alive. And if you ever doubt it, I’ll murmur it into your ear until you do."

You let out a shaky laugh, curling your fingers into his shirt. "You’re ridiculous."

"Maybe," he whispered, softer now, shadowed grin tugging at his lips. "But you… you’re mine. And I’ll spend every quiet second reminding you of that."

Your chest swelled, warmth spreading through your body. After hours of lying awake, letting his presence anchor you, you lifted your gaze slowly, meeting his again. The house was still, the night stretching endlessly around you, the intimacy of this quiet moment wrapping tighter around your chest than any schedule or intervention ever could.

"See…?" he murmured, voice dropping low, brushing against your ear. "You feel that? The world’s quiet. Just us. And it’s all for you. Just you."

You let yourself lean closer, letting the words, the care, the quiet devotion settle into your chest. Then, instinctively, you tilted your face toward his, pressing your lips against his. The kiss started soft, teasing, but as soon as your lips met his, it deepened, urgent and hungry. His lip piercing brushed against yours with every movement, a spark of sensation that made your knees weaken and your pulse spike. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb tracing slow, deliberate circles, while his other arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him.

The shadows around him pulsed, alive and protective, echoing the heat that pooled between you. Every shuddered breath, every tilt of his head, every slick, teasing press of his pierced lip against yours sent shivers through you. It was messy, breathless, and consuming.

When you finally pulled back, lips glistening, breath uneven, and hearts hammering, his eyes glimmered in the dim light, dark and molten, full of mischief, tenderness, and that dangerous edge that always left you weak.

"Ours," he whispered, voice low and tender. "You’re ours. All of you."

And in that moment, you believed it.

hi!! omg, so sorry it took me a minute to check in! college started and it’s been an absolute whirlwind of everything...

sorry this is kinda shit but i felt bad for the cliffhanger so i thought i might as well at least post this draft <//3 really wanted to add more characters but my mental health tanked so bad i couldn’t bring myself to write anymore :(

still… i honestly can’t believe how much this fic popped??? like, i did not expect anyone to love my dumb writing as much as you all did, and it honestly makes my heart so warm!

if you enjoyed my work, if this story made you smile or feel even a little cozy, i’d be super happy if you wanted to support me with a ko-fi! it’s just a little thing that keeps me going and helps me keep writing the stories i love 💌

here’s the link if you feel like it: https://ko-fi.com/yangelbabywayne

thank you so so much for reading, for commenting. it genuinely means the world. every like, every comment, every share!

smooches <3

#date everything #johnny splash date everything #daisuke dishware date everything #dirk deveraux date everything #daisuke dishware x reader #timothy timepiece x reader #dirk deveraux x reader #date everything x reader #date everything cabrizzio #cabrizzio x reader

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munchieschomp · 4 days ago

Note

this is a comedy/fluffy idea for a date everything fanfic. hear me out.

MC with WAYYY too much stuff. not to replace the objects, no, to decorate. they have accessory after accessory.

this could go one of two ways:

1, the accessories give the objects new looks and aesthetics

2, the accessories are datebles too and are very attached too the person their ‘decorating’ like little fans clubs for that object (not obsessive like fantina)

either way it’d be hilarious.

Content Warnings: Slight angst at the start, but a lot of fluff from there onwards!

You've always loved to make accessories, ever since you were young. It all started when a relative had surprised you with an DIY bracelet, one that was from a discount store and contained dull coloured beads and tangled string. The first bracelet you made was too tight for your wrist – but it was still one you treasured deeply.

The bracelet kit was emptied in a few weeks before you collected other kits, from necklaces to keychains, however it didn't take long before you assembled your own kit, one filled with different types of beads and bundled thread.

You used to give these to various friends and family as presents whenever you made a new intricate design – but you noticed how they'd slowly take it with hesitant smiles – and you'd never forget the time you saw some of them displayed at a second-hand store before you went inside to buy them all back.

Instead of leaving them to collect dust or stashing them in one of your drawers, you wore some of them and used the rest to decorate parts of your house. All the door had bracelets for tassels, and you used the necklaces as tiebacks for the curtains before you started clipping keychains on the AC vents.

The sounds of beads clicking and clacking became a daily occurrence in your house, though it always brought a smile to your face – making all of these creations was something you'd do to take your mind off of things, especially when you worked in Customer Service – all you needed was your kit, some scissors and an hour or two to make a full set of accessories.

Still, it slowly became apparent that you were making too much to put anywhere else. Sam tried to convince you to start an online business, but you didn't know where to start and whether anyone would be interested in them, and truthfully, you were worried that they'd simply end up at another second-hand store behind your back.

But you didn't know how much the house loved your accessories until the dateviators brought them all to life – your creations were a part of them now, some more than others.

When you first met Front Dorian, your eyes were drawn to the colourful acrylic beads that decorated his brass watch and stainless steel chained earring. They didn't match the rest of his bouncer apparel, but to your surprise, he simply straightens his shoulders and back before he declined.

"I don't really care for fashion, but I've come to like it – I think it brings out my eyes."

You later talk to Curt and Rod, who had glass and bugle beads attached to their bronze rings and sky blue tab tops – they reminded you of the beaded portières you'd see in old movies and sitcoms, but the two hadn't given you shade for your accessories either.

"I think Curt can go without a few, he's become a peacock ever since he got them."

Rod whisper-shouts to you while Curt fixes his panels and pleats, but Curt simply looks back with a side smile.

"I make them look good – Rod on the other hand? He could probably go with a whole lot less."

And when you spoke to Hector, you thought that he'd ask you to remove at least two or three of the keychains that were latched onto him, but he was more than happy to hold onto all of them.

"I must confess, I have always loved seeing you create these works of art, but I never expected them to be in my possession," His hands fidget with a beaded flower keychain as he speaks through one of his vents, "The thought of parting with any of them brings me great sorrow."

You also didn't think that other parts of the house would be interested in your creations until they saw them up close for the first time.

"Where'd you get all those beads from homie? They're pretty gnarly!"

Hank No. 1 points at the stacks of pony bead bracelets on your wrists before you hold them up – they all do a collective "Woah, sick!" in response, and their eyes light up at the sounds of the bracelets clacking together.

"I made all of these," You smile tentatively as their mouths fall open, "You can have one, if you want to that is, it's okay if you don't–"

They all shout "Heck yeah!" before you get another word in, though you could've sworn you heard Hank No. 3 shout "I'm never going to take mine off!"

Five of the bracelets on your wrists had coincidentally matched their bodysuits, and the way they reacted when you placed it in their open hands made it seem as if you had given them diamonds.

"We'll make sure not to lose them, even when we're out Hankgliding!" Hank No. 2 does a thumbs up before high fiving Hank No. 1 and Hank No. 3.

"Yeah brah, these are totally going to give us good luck!" Hank No. 4 holds his arm up before fistbumping Hank No. 5, who then turns to you with a grin.

"Thanks house homie, we'll take extra good care of them."

And when the Hanks do stunts around the house with their bracelets on display, other objects and appliances start asking for a beaded accessory of their own – by the time you run out of accessories to give as presents, the entire house has one (or multiple, as you discovered that Cam unexpectedly held onto all your discarded bead creations).

They all make sure to take your accessories with them when they're realised, but before they leave, every one of them leaves something that you use to create a one-of-a-kind bracelet and necklace to remember them all by.

#date everything x reader #date everything imagines #i hope you like reading what came of it!

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munchieschomp · 4 days ago

Note

hmmmm thinking about electrician reader who volt and eddie lowkey are already head-over-heels for pre-dateviators. like maybe the reader decides to investigate the growing power issues and discovers the faulty wire, so they go to fix it. the boys (lbr mainly eddie) get super nervous when it's time for the system reset, but can't really communicate that fear (or do anything to stop it since i assume an electrician wouldn't be dumb enough to work on the breaker box without some sort of protection). then they wake up post-reset feeling better than they have in however long and with the reader gently talking to them like "doesn't that feel better? 😊" which causes volt and eddie to basically melt. they love the reader, and, oh no, they love the reader, someone who doesn't know they exist.

and then along come the dateviators

(also cannot stop thinking about a reader who always treating objects with kindness and love due to having some sort of loosely animist-adjacent beliefs. something like no the objects aren't LITERALLY alive but they do have feelings and stuff. and again along come the dateviators to validate their beliefs. i am definitely not projecting 🙏)

(also this is way longer than intended oops. sorry for yapping, it will probably happen again)

top tier thought, thank you for this anon. i like the idea of the reader fixing the problem before the dateviators and then realizing that their breaker box was actually two people who are now a bit attached to them because of that.

you’re an electrician, which is good because now you can finally put your skills to something that isn’t a job offer. the lights have been flickering lately, and last night you had a power surge. outwardly, it doesn’t seem like anything’s wrong. but you know from experience that you shouldn’t ignore it. you can hear the buzzing as you open the front panel, and it’s clear that there are some loose wires. the door whines as you open it a bit further, and you frown.

“hey, it’s fine,” you whisper, patting the top of the breaker box. “I’m gonna fix you, okay?”

^*^

Eddie and volt are absolutely freaking out. for one, you might get electrocuted, because eddie hasn’t been able to fix the faulty wires yet. and two, you’re talking to them like they’re actually there, standing right in front of you. they can’t decide whether to be panicking or flustered.

Volt’s practically glowing with nerves, and eddie looks like he’s about to blow a fuse with how tense he is. They watch in silence as you fix the faulty wires, slumping in relief when you don’t get burned. but what you do next has them stunned, blushes spreading across their faces. you press the tip of your fingers to your lips before touching the same fingers to the breaker box, a small smile on your face. “stay safe, okay?” and they’re left like that, stunned and flustered.

of course, when you actually get the dateviators, it’s a bit more awkward. this time there’s no fixing plot, but eddie and volt are more than eager to show their affection for you. you’re in there nearly every night, dancing with volt and talking with eddie. …maybe you shouldn’t have flirted with the breaker box.

#eddie date everything #volt date everything #date everything x reader #gender neutral reader #eddie x reader #volt x reader #neon answers

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munchieschomp · 5 days ago

Text

ouch!

— syn. the wind breaker boys when you have an injury.

— ft. umemiya, togame, kaji

— notes. reader is called gf & she/her in umemiya's. can u tell ume's ones draineddd me, 7 whole slides for a man that aint even real 😔💔

#wbk x reader #wind breaker x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #umemiya x reader #wbk smau #wind breaker smau #kaji x reader #kaji ren x reader #togame x reader #togame jo x reader

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munchieschomp · 5 days ago

Note

Hi, I had this silly idea of how would Riddle, Azul, Jamil, and Silver react to being called Husband lol

For example “Sorry I can’t hang out later my husband needs me” or

(ordering food) “Yes, and my husband would like to know if you have (their favorite food)?”

Feel free to delete if you don’t like it, but if you do accept thank you in advance!

(btw if it’s not taken can I be 🌒 anon?)

being called husband

ft : riddle, azul, jamil, silver

a/n : this is so cute omg

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ 🐚

riddle isn't sure he heard you right. husband? you're not married yet! you can't be married yet, you two haven't gone on enough dates! and he hasn't bought a ring yet—unless, of course, you want to be the one to propose, but either way, it hasn't happened!! you didn't secretly marry some other man behind his back, did you? he's quick to correct you, a bit flustered. he's adamant on being referred to by the correct title, though he admits that he wouldn't mind being your husband someday.

azul is taken aback at first, because as far as he knows, he's not married. if this is your way of proposing, though, he'll gladly set up the whole thing for whatever date you'd like. of course, if you want to marry him, you have to be prepared for all his little quirks. he'll make you sign a contract — you aren't allowed to leave him, ever, okay? not like you'd ever want to, because he makes sure you're always happy.

jamil's surprise is barely noticeable; his eyes widen, caught off-guard, before he recovers almost immediately and starts to go along with you. you ask him to pass you something or to hold your bag — "of course," he says, almost too smoothly, "anything for my lovely spouse." surely you know by now how difficult it is to fluster him? it becomes a running joke between the two of you, so deep into the bit that you have to make it official.

silver doesn't notice at first. he goes along, "yes, of course, i'm their husband," doesn't realise anything is amiss until you start to giggle at him. when your words finally catch up to him, he apologises as his ears turn pink, but suddenly you start saying it again and again, every chance you get. even so, he's still never fully prepared to hear it, no matter how many times it happens; not even at the wedding.

#sorry this took so long anon i'm not dead #fic.txt #ask.txt #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader

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munchieschomp · 5 days ago

Text

LOVE EVERYTHING!

Homeowner x Dateables

After Post-Realization Ending

Summary:

People haven't really known about the Vice President of Human Experience of Valdivian.

I mean who wouldn't with big names like David Most and now current CEO Franklin Most (Yes they got married!) people don't really bat an eye towards some random with a weird position on one of the biggest corporations in the world.

Until they keep noticing them with a bunch of famous/known people all over the globe.

Which got a lot of people thinking...

Is there anyone this person doesn't fuck?!

• This is another Date Everything Imagine a few years after Realization

• Since most of the Dateables have become famous or just being successful, it was bound for the public to learn about the Player.

• To the point everyone in social media is talking about us and our connection to the Dateables.

• at First the fame started small where you were recognized in a few events or streams (in Stella's case) with your beloved lovers.

• like for example Miranda, in the ending it mentioned that most of her songs are dedicated to us. Which will get her fans to start theorizing on who the person their favorite singer dedicated most of her fans.

• Which led them to notice you, Knowing the dedication of the fans some managed to recognized Miranda while she's in the middle of a date or a public place with you and her either holding hands or just being flirty.

• After that some of her fans have managed to find your identity as the Vice-President of human experience in Valdivian, but that's not the only information they found out.

• Infact some other fans from other Known Dateables like Stella, Keyes, Rainey, Johnny, Hoove and etc...

• Have noticed you with them on a lot of occasions and not just fans.

• One of my headcanons is that the dateables will have human friends and acquaintances that they're close to and will also notice you visiting your lovers or the dateables visiting you in return.

• For Example,

- Like Dorian asking a day off from his boss which will shock him cause it's quite rare for the doorman to have a break. On which his boss will ask him on to why which led to Dorian being flustered and saying that he wants to visit a special someone 🤭.

- This also can be applied to the most Workaholic Dateables.

• in some case scenarios the friends of the dateables will see you with them being all lovey-dovey, infact some of the dateables will probably invite you to be their plus one on a event or something

• The Dateables will introduce you as their lover of course, but as time passes and your so-called fame grows-

• Some acquaintances of the Dateables will start to notice you with your other lovers which will lead them to a rabbit hole of sightings of you in social media with another Dateable.

• But not just one, oh no- They will see in Social Media about the "Player" who managed to be lovers by a lot of known people.

• I have a scenario where one fan of a Dateable will at first be angry cause they thought their idol was getting cheated on by the Vice-president of human experience, Until they searched further and see that not only did you managed to seduce their favorite artist-

• But also managed to seduce other people who are famous as well which led them to have an account to see on who did you managed to seduce next.

• Which will then lead to a lot of misunderstandings 😅

• Some people will be mad at you for being a "Player", so they try to inform the Dateables of your so-called deceit.

• Which led them to respond In a way they never expect:

- Some of them will definitely defend you aggressively, but then they will mention that they kinda knew about the so-called "Others" in your life.

- Which will lead to another misunderstanding,

- For Example, When Ben-hwa or Betty was asked about about you they will say that they knew about the other lovers but will also imply that they cannot blame you have always been charismatic and that they don't mind sharing cause you always knew how to treat them right 😉

- Infact some Dateables when asked about you will start to wax poetry about how you know how to love so well, that they cannot blame you from having other lovers compared to them

- Some will even talk about you being insatiable and imply being amazing in bed😈.

• Which will then lead you to your reputation from being hated to being admired.

• Some people will even call you the Ultimate Lover cause you do not discriminate on who your lovers were.

• From Black, White, Asian, Indigenous - All Members of Ligibitdiqua 🤣.

• Hell Even people who are Ugly or Beautiful, Disabled or Non-Disabled, Couples???? Polyamorous Couples??? A Frat????

• Heck they're will be fan accounts of you, with sightings on what lover will you have next.

'Oh my god, I thought this mf is only going for women but men too?! Like wtf???'

'Bro, they even banged an Ugly-Rat dude...Like Holy Shit this fucker don't discriminate!!!!!'

'Like do they even have a type???? Like every week I see them with a different type of person! 😳"

'ALL HAIL THE ULTIMATE SEDUCER! No type of hole goes untouched whenever they decide to go after you~'

'I once feel insecure of myself with me being fat and shit, But then I remember that there's a chance that Valdivian's Vice-President will probably want me as well 😌'

'GOD DAMN, I HEARD THIS MUDAFACKA MANAGED TO BAG BOTH RAINEY AND TONY AT THE SAME TIME! LIKE DUDE TEACH ME YOUR WAYS!!!'

'Dude I once saw them with my realtors as well!! Even people who are couples are not safe!!😱'

'I scroll down this account to see on which type of lover this fucker will have for a week, and today it's a Goth boy then last week it's a Cat Boy like wtf.....how you bangin everything bruh?!'

'I have heard about them sleeping with a Couple from my landscaping company infact I heard that it was because of them they're relationship grew stronger 💪, Like what the hell is this power??'

'We need to hide our parents, our grandparents hell maybe even us as well cause there's a chance they might bagged bot me and my boyfriend as well 😭'

'I kinda don't mind 😉, Like please Vice-Pres experience me like you experience others 😘'

• Comments like these flood through every Social media platform.

• and of course your lovers will probably see your new-found fame.

• Some will find it hilarious like Curt & Rod will probably shade you in one of their shows even if their basically one of your lovers as well.

• But some will get a bit protective, Surprisingly dateables like Amir, Rebel and others do not like sharing you with others who are not part of the household.

• Some will get possessive when they see others trying to flirt with you.

• This will also probably lead to them being more open to PDA when in public with you.

• There's one time when Parker growled at someone for trying to ask you on dating advice.

• Speaking of Dating Advice people will probably flood your account with a lot of it.

• To the point your new found fame has affected your work life as well, Infact some of your colleagues will probably ask about you and how you manage to seduce a lot of famous people.

• Which will probably lead to Franklin Lieste putting his foot down and make a new rule in the workplace for people to stop asking you about non-related work stuff. So you don't too overwhelmed.

• Tom your manager (Who also wants to be your lover) will probably try protect you the since you both work in the same company

• But unfortunately, For him your assistant Dishy and also Willi will probably be your main protectors and also will ward of any potential suitors since they both work at Valdivian as well.

• And for those who try to Doxx more of you, Mac and Telly will have it covered and also Daemon as well but he AlwAyzsj pPRooTect yOuu NO matttER WhhAtt!!

• Other Dateables will probably use their influences to get a lot of suitors and haters to get away from you.

• Either way by the end of the day you really don't really care about your new found fame since you heart always have belonged to them no matter what.

#date everything #date everything x reader #date everything imagines #date everything scenarios #date everything post-realization au #date everything au

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munchieschomp · 5 days ago

Text

╰─▸ ❝ Twisted Wonderland x reader!

Little Gestures

featuring — Trey : Riddle : Azul : Jamil : Vil : Malleus : Silver.

୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・・୨୧

𖦹 Trey Clover

You always laughed at yourself for being so weak to Trey’s little gestures. Trey never went over the top, yet somehow, he always left you full of butterflies. One afternoon in the botanical garden, he casually reached over to brush a stray strand of hair from your face before returning to his work. His touch was so brief, so natural, yet your heart skipped a beat and your face warmed instantly. He didn’t even seem to realize the effect he had, humming to himself as he checked the plants, while you stood there clutching your chest like he had just confessed.

Another time, he quietly draped his blazer over your shoulders when the air grew chilly, not even mentioning it as he continued talking like nothing had happened. Or when he baked your favorite dessert and offered with that calm smile and a simple, “Here, it’s your favorite.” you nearly melted on the spot. It wasn’t dramatic, wasn’t flashy, just Trey being Trey. But to you, those little gestures of quiet care meant everything, leaving your stomach fluttering with butterflies long after.

𖦹 Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle wasn’t the type to shower you with affection openly, but his little gestures meant everything. He would notice your shoelace untied and kneel down to fix it without saying a word. In his strict yet caring way, he always reminded you to wear your uniform properly or drink enough water between classes. His tone might sound stern, but you could always hear the affection hidden beneath the facade.

The way he softened when you were around made your heart skip. Sometimes his hand would brush against yours when passing notes, or during a study session, he would quietly slide a cup of tea toward you, his eyes already back on the textbook as if nothing had happened. And then, those rare but genuine smiles he reserved only for you, they were treasures. For someone so composed, even the smallest slip of tenderness was enough to make your chest and stomach flutter wildly.

𖦹 Azul Ashengrotto

Azul’s affection slipped out in the smallest ways, though he always pretended they meant nothing. At the Mostro Lounge, he would make sure your order was placed ahead of everyone else, prepared exactly the way you liked it. Once, while you were reading at his office as he worked next to you, he absentmindedly reached out to adjust the lamp so the light fell perfectly across your book. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even glance your way, but that quiet thoughtfulness was enough to fill your stomach with butterflies.

Later, when he set a cup of milk in front of you with a soft murmur of, “Don’t let it get cold.” you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. He carried himself as if it were nothing more than a business courtesy, but you knew better. Those little gestures, so minimal, yet so intimate, always made your heart dance in your chest.

𖦹 Jamil Viper

Jamil doesn't make grand romantic acts, but the way he slipped little gestures of care into everyday life always left you blushing and smiling. On the way to your next class, he passed by and, without breaking stride, tugged your hood up against the breeze. His fingers barely brushed your temple as he muttered, “You’ll catch a chill if you’re careless.” or when you were tired, he would take your bag without asking, carrying it effortlessly as though it were the most natural thing in the world to lighten your load.

Even the smallest things, like neatly tucking your belongings into your bag when you were running late, or making sure your tea had just the right amount of sugar, were enough to make your chest flutter. He always tried to pass it off as simple habit, but the quiet sincerity hidden in his actions had you smiling to yourself long after.

𖦹 Vil Schoenheit

Vil didn’t need to do much to leave you flustered, sometimes it was as simple as adjusting your collar and uniform or brushing something from your cheek with his fingers or handkerchief. His critiques were always sharp, but when he looked at you with approving eyes and murmured softly “Perfect” your heart skipped more than you’d like to admit.

Even the way he insisted you take breaks, pressing a bottle of water into your hand, felt intimate. To others, it was discipline, but to you, it was Vil’s way of showing care. When he brushed your hair before class or straightened your posture with a light touch, you were left blushing, butterflies erupting in your stomach. These little gestures were enough to completely undo you.

𖦹 Malleus Draconia

Malleus found joy in the simplest connections, and so did you. Walking through the forest at night, he would point out the stars, lowering his voice to tell you stories about the old fae tales. Sometimes he would hold out his hand, letting you decide whether to take it, never pressuring, only waiting patiently with that small, fond smile. Or he would brush a stray leaf from your hair as he continued listening to you. The little gestures carrying such warmth.

And when he greeted you with a gentle, “Dear, you came” as if your presence alone brightened his night, it left your chest warm. Even the bare minimum, his gaze lingering on you, his voice softening, was more than enough to make your heart race every time.

𖦹 Silver

Silver’s little gestures were so natural they left you weak in the knees. When walking together, he would unconsciously slow his pace to match yours, or his hand lightly brushing your back whenever crowds grew too close. He always listened when you spoke, quietly attentive, and if you had crumbs left on your lips from the snacks he had given you, he would gently brush them away without a word.

When it rained, you would catch him holding the umbrella over you, even when it meant he was the one getting soaked. Your heart couldn’t help but squeeze at the sight. Silver never asked for thanks, never made a show of it, but it was exactly that quiet devotion that left you full of butterflies every time.

୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・୨୧・・・・・୨୧

Story time, yesterday, we were heading to our next class (yes, we still have school on Sundays 😔). Our next class was in another building far from where we currently were. I realized I had left my umbrella behind, so I just decided to bear with it. My friend, without saying anything, casually shared her umbrella with me and even fanned me with her fan. That honestly left me feeling really flustered, lmao. And that inspired this story.

Yes, it’s the bare minimum, but why not? 😋

Last post, then I’ll do the request now!

#heartsie જ #twst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst disney #twst fluff #twisted wonderland x male reader #twisted wonderland x reader #riddle rosehearts #trey clover

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munchieschomp · 5 days ago

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REALLY...HIM?

☆彡 in which professor crewel judges your relationship with the NRC boys

nrc boys x reader (minus ortho)

word counter: 4.8K (200+ per character)

tags: reader is prefect, crewel is your father figure, established relationship, possible ooc

a/n: oh this was by far my most requested work. people wanted father crewel!! i held off on writing this for a while because i felt like i had such a weak grasp on his character. i did my research for this but sorry if my interpretation is off. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy :>

ace trappola

Very against this. It's just one bad influence after another with you, isn't it? First Grim, now this guy. You attract the absolute worst pups, don’t you? You’re lucky you’re his favorite. That’s not stopping Crewel from being crazy strict with both of you though. Expect to get seated across the classroom from your boyfriend. There are plenty of well-behaved puppies in the litter, why are you settling for one who barely knows how to sit? Ace and Crewel are NOT getting along. It’ll take Ace trying to improve himself (i.e. not getting in as much trouble) for Crewel to start being more accepting of him as your boyfriend. If he sees Ace attempting to be a better student, he's more than happy to start extending some grace. He isn’t that cruel… And then Crewel finds out that Ace cheated on a few tests and he’ll get detention for weeks. In detention Crewel is going to make him write a 12 page essay about his bad behavior; standing over his shoulder the whole time as Ace writes this. He'll crack his whip against the boy’s desk if he slows down while writing… Yeah. So much for not being cruel. These two are going to be bickering CONSTANTLY. With time, they’ll mellow out and their arguments will get more playful. (i’m imagining it like Meemaw and George from Young Sheldon) But don't expect him to stop punishing him. It's what bad pups get after all.

deuce spade

Believes you two are adorable together! You two puppies can bounce off and learn from each other. He’ll push Deuce to follow your example, especially if your grades are better than his. He is an educator above all else and takes his position very seriously. Though, as your self-proclaimed father figure, he will be watching Deuce closely. Yes, the pup is good intentioned. But he also has a tendency to get in trouble and still has a long road ahead of him. Crewel will be getting more strict with Deuce, but it isn't as strict as he is with Ace. He's more willing to let some of Deuce's mistakes slide because he sees that he genuinely wants to be better. But those mistakes are in terms of academics. If he makes mistakes in your relationship? Oh that pup is getting whooped. No questions asked. Crewel will not tolerate him hurting you and he has made that very, very clear to Deuce who accidentally got a closer look at the professor's whip. It's not that he thinks that Deuce will hurt you. He's just making sure. He sees it akin to putting a leash on a puppy as they play to make sure they don't get rowdy with the other dogs. Deuce is simply being kept in check by him. Perhaps under Crewel's watchful eye, he will shape up to be the perfect pup for you! He believes Deuce has the potential. It's just a matter of unlocking it.

cater diamond

He's fond of the boy. Makes sure Cater doesn't get away with using his phone in class. He'd hate for any bad influences to start coming your way, so he'll ensure that Cater is following the rules to the tee. He isn't afraid to take away or even break Cater's phone if the time calls for it. Crewel's actually been wanting to get to know Cater more since he's heard about his Magicam. The professor is acutely aware of the latest trends and what not but firmly believes that vintage looks just hit different. So, with Cater now being your boyfriend, he'll be more likely to come up to Cater and recommend him fashion brands that most young people probably wouldn't know about. He's going to start buying you two matching couple outfits, enjoying seeing both of you represent older luxury brands. In exchange, Cater will usually talk to Crewel about celebrity gossip or whatever's trending. This will all be heavily scrutinized by Crewel, but the professor just can't stop listening to what new gossip Cater has. He's open to hearing about student gossip too. Crewel is always open to learning more about his adorable pups and makes sure they aren't misbehaving. Cater becomes his news outlet of sorts. Honestly, Crewel is probably talking to your boyfriend more than you. You're still his favorite of course, he's as loyal as a German Shepherd. Cater is his just new gossip buddy.

trey clover

A fine choice, albeit boring in his opinion. Crewel enjoys a little flare, obviously. His curiosity will grow as to how your relationship happened and why you'd want to be with Trey. His attention will be on Trey more often. And being the astute teacher he is, he'll start to notice more and more... interesting comments that Trey lets slip. Crewel will definitely find out about that side of Trey which... he doesn't know how to feel about it. On one hand; flare! Yay! Now he understands his favorite little pup's relationship better. On the other... Trey is a rather bizarre man is he not? He thinks to himself; how did he ever think that Trey was a normal student? NRC has none of those, much to the teacher's dismay. He appreciates Trey's efforts to win him over though; leaving him little treats. It's like watching a dog bring back a bone, waiting for validation. He'll give it to the boy with due time. Though, Crewel would rather see him treat you nicely as opposed to Trey giving him gifts. He's obviously a well-trained pup, especially given his position as the vice-housewarden of Heartsbyul. Though, Crewel is hesitant to say any boy is worth your attention, he doesn't mind Trey and his tendency of spoiling you. It's what you deserve. Crewel really doesn't have any reservations about your relationship. He just has his suspicions on Trey as a person. Especially if you tell him about the teeth thing. Please don't tell him about the teeth thing.

riddle rosehearts

He appreciates you going for an obedient pup. Crewel hopes Riddle will push you to be more responsible, officially assigning him as your partner in all the classes you have together. The professor also asks him to be your tutor after seeing how well you work together. Academically speaking, Crewel believes Riddle is a good pup. However, he wants to make sure you're being treated like royalty in your relationship and isn't afraid to make vague threats to scare the boy a little. He'll say things around Riddle like, "Hm. It's been quite a while since you and the Prefect have gone on a date, hasn't it?" While not so subtly cracking his whip. Fear is one of the best motivators and best believe Riddle instantly took you on a date after that incident. They have mutual respect for one another as they're both sticklers for the rules. Riddle is just a bit... intimidated at times by his professor. But it's all smooth sailing. Crewel just reminds Riddle of the consequences of treating you poorly. A lot. The housewarden is unnerved but uses it as an opportunity to better himself, earning some brownie points in Crewels book. He's always had a soft spot for obedient puppies.

jack howl

Crewel's intensity really gets to him sometimes. He knows it's bad but whenever Crewel's around Jack starts to overthink. "Why is he looking at me like that... What if I did something wrong? What punishment will I have to face?" In reality, Crewel likes Jack. He thinks you picked the cutest little pup ever. Partly because Jack is a wolf beastman with dog-like features. But Crewel also recognizes Jack's grit. He's actually quite charitable when it comes to complimenting him. During class, Crewel will correct and check up on Jack quite a lot. The beastman takes this as his Crewel not thinking he's good enough for you. But in reality it's quite the opposite. Crewel just genuinely enjoys teaching things to Jack. He approves of the relationship, believing you've chosen a well-rounded dog. Strong, reliable, a rule-follower— it appears you've finally gained a good companion. However, as time goes by, Jack can't stand the thought of Crewel not thinking he's well suited for you. Soon enough, he goes to the teacher and spills his guts, saying that he knows he's not perfect but he's trying really hard to be the man you need. Crewel laughs, patting him on the head. "Oh, you silly little pup. You already have my approval." Jack is shocked to hear this, but it does make him happy to hear. All the more reason to be devoted to you in Jack's mind.

ruggie bucchi

He's not fond of troublemakers— a well known fact. So, Ruggie tries to be more subtle with his mischief once he finds out that Crewel's protective over you. As much as he'd like to stick it to the man, Ruggie quite enjoys his life and would rather not play with fire. But Crewel catches on. He always does. And oh boy, he finds Ruggie's under the table misbehavior to be anything but tasteful. His whip is going to be put to good use. Ruggie gets mortified and starts skipping class, making the whole situation worse. You're probably going to have to be the middleman for these two and make sure nothing goes overboard. Needless to say, Crewel is not fond of Ruggie. However, the teacher respects his work ethic. That boy is always on the job, looking to get extra cash. There's potential in Ruggie and Crewel is going to find it. Meaning that he's going to bug you for more information about your boyfriend before pulling him aside and having a genuine talk with the pup. After the talk, they seem on good terms, with Crewel even complimenting Ruggie from time to time! Yay! Little do you know that he's constantly threatening your boyfriend with the whip.

leona kingscholar

He hardly sees the appeal of a lazy cat who sleeps his days away. Leona is hardly in class so Crewel can't even punish him. He'll have a stern talking with you, telling you not to settle for anything you don't deserve. Once you explain that, "Oh no, Leona treats me very well." and maybe throwing in a, "He lets me use his credit card." for good measure, Crewel will be more open to the idea of you two dating. He could always sense that Leona had that side to him, but he absolutely despises his laziness. He'll try to get you to convince the beastman to come to class more often. Crewel starts threatening to punish you if your boyfriend continues to skip. After all, your boyfriend is an extension of you. And if you're boyfriends being a bad pup, then you are too. So basically you're begging Leona to start to come to class again because Crewel does not play when it comes to punishments. Crewel is not holding back any punishments once Leona starts attending classes more. It's extremely frustrating for Crewel— seeing untapped potential in Leona. He doesn't tolerate this pups behavior, but he genuinely wants to see him be better and decides to talk to him after class. Leona is surprised when Crewel isn't being too preachy and instead talks about how he wants to make sure you're being treated right. It kinda pisses the beastman off that his professor thinks he'd ever treat you wrong in the first place, but it does give him some newfound motivation. The two eventually grow to have a mutual respect relationship on the basis that they both want you to be happy. Though, Crewel still thinks dogs are better than cats. And frankly, this extends to your boyfriend. Sorry not sorry.

floyd leech

What spell does this leech have you under!? In what world would he EVER let you date this monster of a man!? This love is forbidden! Crewel will go full Romeo and Juliet style when restricting you two because he is NOT letting you date Floyd! Nope! Not if he has a say in it! Going on a date tonight? Too bad, he's assigning both of you extra homework that must be completed ON YOUR OWN. Floyd dislikes him right back, always complaining to you how Crewel's no fun. Floyd is one of the biggest troublemakers on campus, right next to Grim. Arguably worst. Floyd is going to get really upset about Crewel's attitude about it and, to your horror, he confronts the professor about it shamelessly. RIP your boyfriend. That poor guy is NOT making it out alive. If you make the mistake of asking Crewel why he doesn't like Floyd, oh that man will go on a tangent. He will be talking for HOURS. I don't see this relationship improving either. Floyd has no intention of changing ever; very content with how he is. If anything, he's making it worse by talking back and throwing tantrums. And it's probably going to be your job to calm him down because Azul and Jade do not wanna deal with allat. Have fun!

jade leech

Unsettled to say the least. He swears up and down that the pup is plotting something. Unfortunately Sam tells him he's overthinking it. He will be sitting you two away from each other... A part of Crewel genuinely wants to get to know him and how this relationship flourished. A louder part of Crewel wants to get you the hell away from this pup because he's scheming SOMETHING he can sense it. All their interactions are going to be the most tense thing ever. Like, both of them are going to be staring at one another with the most strained smiles in the universe. As Jade passes by Crewel's desk with his up-to-no-good smile, I can picture him saying, "Is something the matter, professor?" And then Crewel hitting him back with an equally as devious grin. "Nothing that concerns you, my pup." And then they'll proceed to have a staring contest until you inevitably drag your boyfriend away. Hey, at least Crewel is outright disapproving or hostile to your boyfriend? But he does give you several warnings to watch Jade closely. Because no one should like mushrooms that much. It's suspicious. Crewel is definitely paranoid and probably has a bunch of conspiracy theories on Jade but he never really disapproves of the relationship. A win is a win?

azul ashengrotto

As mean as this sounds, Crewel can sense his insecurity. He's just learned how to pick up on those kind of things after being a teacher. And Azul reeks of hidden insecurity to the professor. He doesn't go any easier on him— he'd be damned if he let any of his puppies step out of line. But he's much more open to be complimentary, especially since you're dating Azul. He'll encourage Azul to spend more time with him after class for studies in order to give him pep talks. If Azul was good enough to catch your eye, then Crewel assures him that he doesn't need to put on this whole 'business' facade to win anyones favor. Azul is definitely stunned to receive this kind of talk from his teacher, but decides to take his advice to heart because he really does love you. Crewel doesn't tell you any of this. Whenever you talk about your boyfriend he kinda just nods along and goes, "That's nice, honey." But in actuality, he smiles to himself after hearing that Azul's been coming out of his shell more. Or— in his case pot. He's no love expert, but he goes soft when he hears that his students are genuinely improving.

kalim al asim

Okay. Get that money. Crewel respects the grind; going for the richest kid on campus. But he isn't a fan of how reliant Kalim is on Jamil in terms of academics. And now that he knows that Kalim is your partner, he'll be harsher on the boy. Crewel doesn't want you hanging out with non-scholars! You deserve a very intelligent boyfriend who can at least get a B average. So he pushes to see Kalim more after class without his attendant, claiming that he needs to learn how to be independent. Kalim obviously struggles with this a bit due to his upbringing, but is willing to take the challenge! Especially if it's to win the respect of your father-like figure! He's really sweet and does try hard... but it doesn't garner much results much to Crewel's dismay. Nonetheless, Kalim does in fact show the grit that was needed in order for Crewel to approve of your relationship. Though, he does insists that Kalim continues to come after class on his own. Maybe you could tag along and help him. Because somethings that boy just doesn't get, no matter how hard Crewel tries. The professor can't help but smile when he sees how lovesick Kalim is over you. He'll watch from afar as you two puppies hug each other in the halls. If you accidentally make eye contact with him, Crewel will give you a small, approving nod.

jamil viper

Crewel has had his eye on Jamil before the two of you started dating. He could tell that the pup held himself back. For what reason, Crewel couldn't say but once he heard the news about you two, he definitely used it as an excuse to get to know Jamil more. He'll watch how Jamil acts around you, the way he relaxes and becomes more snarky. Crewel finds himself liking this version of Jamil more than the quiet, blend in the crowd guy that he presents himself as to the professor. So, Crewel decides to force him out of it. He'll push him, purposely grading his papers harder so that he'll have to put in more effort. Crewel knows that Jamil is capable of 'A' papers despite only turning in 'C' level work. His solution? He makes it so that, in order to get a 'C', Jamil has to turn in 'A' level work. Call it unfair, but it works. Jamil does get frustrated and rants about it to you. As hard as he tries to bite his tongue, he'll eventually let something slip on accident to Crewel. Now, Crewel hates disrespect. But he knows he purposely pushed the pup to see this side— the true side. He'll tell Jamil that being fake doesn't suit him. So, Jamil drops the act. He isn't stupid, Crewel is basically your father and he isn't trying to get on any of your family's (blood related or not) bad side. And it turns out to be for the better as they actually develop a nice bond with Jamil being more himself. Some puppies just need to be pushed out of their crate.

epel felmier

Crewel is happy to hear you're dating a Pomfiore student! He'd like his son-in-law to be fashionable. Then he hears that it's Epel and he's mildly disappointed. Listen, he genuinely cares for his students so he pays attention. And he's heard Epel slip out his native tongue underneath his breath. He's seen the boy rough play with Ace and Deuce. He knows that this pup is different from the other Pomfiore students. That's why he also gets frustrated when Epel tries to maintain this fake act with Crewel. "Good pups don't play pretend when it isn't asked of them. Drop this act. That's an order." This, naturally, freaks Epel out a bit. The country boy is a bit ashamed to be himself around Crewel since he really wanted to appease him due to your father-like bond with him. But he isn't going to disobey— Epel has seen Crewel's punishments, he's not taking his chances. Although Crewel isn't the biggest fan of Epel's southern charm, he appreciates the pup being his real self around him. Is he good enough to date you? Not in Crewel's book, no. But he'll allow it. Epel knows what the punishments are if he breaks your heart anyways.

rook hunt

What compelled you to want to date this man? Crewel doesn't understand your taste. Rook starts leaving clothing and jewelry from luxury brands that Crewel loves on his desk. The professor has very mixed feelings about this. 1. How did Rook find out what brands he's partial to? Should he be concerned about this? Because he's getting concerned. 2. Crewel doesn't like the idea of being bought over. No matter how much he enjoys the gifts. Because he wants your love to be genuine. Crewel wants to see proof that Rook is treating you right, not another luxurious coat that he'll definitely be wearing later down the line. He takes the fact that Rook thinks he can be bought over as an insult and pulls him aside after class, giving the pup a stern talking to. "Non non! I simply gifted it because it reminded me of you, professor! These have nothing to do with my devotion toward the Prefect." Crewel smells bs and does NOT tolerate that. He'll punish Rook by having him clean the alchemy tools after the freshman class since that class was notorious for leaving behind a mess. Rook knew what he was doing. His hand holds yours tighter and he smiles as you two pass by Crewel, with Rook catching a glimpse of the professor wearing one of the necklaces Rook gifted him. You just sigh because there's no way of controlling this man. His audacity knows no bounds.

vil schoenheit

Oh, Crewel is living for this. Vil might just be the one student he fully approves of, 100%. You dating one of the top alchemy students who is also an actor and model with the best sense of fashion in the entire school? Now that's a good puppy! Crewel almost wants to buy both of you treats with how over the moon he is. Vil, ever so charming, easily woos Crewel over by showing him how caring and compassionate he is towards you while also maintaining good grades and fixing your clothes. The professor smiles wide as he asks you, "How's your boyfriend doing?" And he listens happily as you tell him about the super romantic date that Vil took you on. Vil also seeks Crewel out for opinions on different outfits he plans on wearing to his modeling shoots. Crewel is more than happy to give his two cents. All the alchemy students have Vil to thank for the professor being in such a good, less snappy mood. He's not any less strict on them, but he compliments their work much more as he thrills over the fact that his little puppy is dating the perfect student. There's nothing more pure than puppy love, and he sees it written on Vil's face whenever he's around you.

idia shroud

You're dating the recluse? Now how did that happen? Crewel rarely sees Idia so he hasn't exactly seen how the two of you interact. He urges and bugs you to get your boyfriend to show up to his class. Cause Crewel only has a faint idea of what he's like. And once he does get familiar with Idia... Oh... Oh, puppy, why? Why him? Not exactly the type Crewel would've gone for at all. He'll definitely have to punish Idia a few times. Partly because of his horrendous attendance. Partly because he's heard him say a few sly comments under his breath. But mainly so he'll know the consequences of hurting you. Idia is beyond TERRIFIED of this man. Why does he keep calling him a 'pup'?! WHY DOES HE HAVE A WHIP?! And his fears are justified when Crewel punishes him. Idia will let out a loud sigh as he snuggles against you. "Out of all the staff members to be your fatherly figure... Did it have to be him?" Which is pretty funny because you're pretty sure you've heard Crewel complain, "Out of all the students... you chose him?" Looks like they've got some similarities. Just don't expect Idia to be striking up conversation with Crewel ever. Same goes with Crewel. They just pretend that the other doesn't exist and move on with their days.

sebek zigvolt

Oh, Crewel knows who Sebek is. That pup has a lot to learn. Especially when it comes to controlling his volume. Crewel uses the fact that you're dating him to teach him a lesson. "If you yell a single time in my class again this week, I will have your relationship with the Prefect ended. That is a guarantee." It's not a guarantee since Crewel knows he can't really control you, but he says it to keep Sebek in check. And it works. Nobody knew he could stay that silent for that long. Crewel was pleased with the progress, giving him a pat on the head with a small, "Good pup!" Oh, and Crewel is especially satisfied when Trein comes to complain to him that Sebek's been extremely loud in his class as of late. Crewel shrugs, claiming that he's been nothing but the most obedient dog in his class. "Maybe it's a teaching problem regarding you?" Trein wanted to strangle him when he said that. Crewel found it extremely amusing. The professor honestly thanks you for dating Sebek because this is the most fun he's had in a while. You're just glad that Sebek got Crewel's mark of approval. Because you know he would've been crushed if he didn't.

silver

He isn't a fan of the boy who's always sleeping. Crewel becomes even harsher when he hears the two of you are dating. It's hard for Silver so eventually the student comes to him explaining his condition. The professor is much more understanding after that. He actually tries really hard to help Silver, probably dragging you along as well. He'll have you stay after class for some parent-kid (blood related or not, you are literally his child) bonding while making a potion. Crewel will make dozens of potions, giving each one to you so you can pass it along to your boyfriend. None of them really make his condition go away fully of course, but it definitely helps as he's able to stay awake in class. Silver is extremely thankful for the help from Crewel, making it a point to express his gratitude nearly every time he sees him. With Silver awake more often, Crewel's able to witness the knightly way in which he treats you. Spoiler alert; he loves it. Yes! Live out your fairytale dreams, puppy! Crewel's convinced that Silver was a medieval knight in a previous life. He also offhandedly mentions that Silver should start modeling because that pup is GORGEOUS. (I'm biased because have you seen his eyes!?)

lilia vanrouge

Sure. He's cute.... Wait he's how old? Crewel is NOT approving when he finds out that Lilia is probably older than him. It's funny because Crewel starts to talk to Lilia more like he's a staff member than a student. And Lilia happily goes along with it. It's such a switch when he talks to you and then your boyfriend. "Hello, pup. I'm glad to hear you had a good day. How's your alchemy project coming along?... Oh, Lilia. How's the mortgage." "Quite well, professor. How's the wife? Wait, sorry, I forgot— you don't have one." Yeah, he hates your boyfriend actually. May or may not attempt to set you up with someone else. Only for the person that Crewel sets you up with to be Lilia catfishing as someone else. "Khee hee~ The internet these days is crazy, isn't it?" If you look closely you could probably see steam coming out from Crewel's head. The professor will make it a point to constantly tell you that your boyfriend is the worst. He doesn't even consider him a pup in the litter. He's a rodent who somehow snuck into the box. A rodent that you adopted much to Crewel's dismay.

malleus draconia

Since it was well known that Crewel was your father like figure, Malleus actually made it a point to go to him and declare his love for you. It kinda catches the professor off guard. One minute he's just grading papers. The next some fae pup busts through the door and starts spouting Shakespeare style how much he loves Crewel's unofficial adopted child. Crewel is left speechless by the time Malleus done, barely even registering all that he just spouted. "... You have my approval?" Heavy on the question mark. Crewel might've had no idea what Malleus said, but if he willingly went on a 30 or so minute tangent about how much he loved you— he probably loves you a lot. And Crewel doesn't regret it as he watches the two of you bond like you're in your own little world. He'll start being more open about approaching Malleus, suggesting small tweaks to Diasomnia's dorm uniforms. Your boyfriend agrees with the biggest smile and implants the suggestion right away, loving the fact that he has the favor of your father figure. Crewel likes to watch the two of you from a far and muses how the most unlikely creatures from completely different worlds can still fall deep into puppy love. The universe works in funny ways, doesn't it?

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x you #twst x yuu #twst x you #malleus draconia x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #vil schoenheit x reader

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munchieschomp · 5 days ago

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PECULIAR HABITS TO MAKE THE HEART FONDER !!

💞 — in which living with you during the duration of training for the big vdc/sdc performance makes your peers pick up on some of your odd habits. 💞 — featuring: vil schoenheit, rook hunt, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, deuce spade, epel felmier, ace trappola!! 💞 — gender neutral reader. around 400-500 words each. warnings: none. i love this group of boys sm you guys don't understand.

VIL SCHOENHEIT.

🩷 — Sitting in strange positions while reading and moving around a lot.

Every time Vil caught you in a strange position while reading, he had to keep himself from reaching over and forcing you into a normal one. The first time he caught you, he was quick to correct your stance, claiming that the position would cause the cushions to flatten and hurt your neck in the long run. You conceded, claiming he was right to keep an argument from ensuing, and then opted to lie on the rug and read on your side.

You were a restless reader, moving in every position to find the perfect and most comfortable one. Eventually, Vil realized this was something about you that would not change, no matter how much he tried to force you into a proper seating position.

He sat on the couch, looking through his notifications while you were lying on your back beside him, legs propped up on the armrest, while you held the book up. Vil glanced from his phone to see your eyes focused on the pages, but he could tell your hands were a bit shaky under the weight of the tome. He gave it a few minutes until your arms began to bother you, and you would turn to lie on your belly.

3... 2... 1.

You turned to lie on your belly instead, your chin propped on the pillow that had once been beneath your head, and the book resting in front of you, nearly touching Vil’s thigh.

“Still too stubborn to sit properly?”

“It’s just not as comfortable,” you replied.

“This doesn’t seem very comfortable either.”

You rolled your eyes. “You should try it.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Oh, come on. It’s a really nice stretch.”

He silenced you with a narrowed gaze that made you muffle any other silly comments.

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Vil sighed and grabbed a spare pillow, letting it rest against his thigh, and then reaching out to take the book from your hands and bracing it up against the pillow. “Holding that book too long will hurt your wrists.”

“Thank you, Vil,” you drawled, smiling up at him before turning the page to your book. “You’re my hero.”

The blonde looked down at you, confused. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m serious, Vil. You just saved me from premature chronic backaches.”

He said nothing and returned to his phone, a smile tugging at the corner of his perfectly painted lips.

ROOK HUNT.

🩷 — Apologizing to the furniture whenever you bump into it or hit it roughly.

Rook thought it was the loveliest thing in the world when you first did it before him. It was a whimsical habit that you had to apologize to the counters or the walls whenever you bumped into them or slammed your hand against them too roughly, as if they could bruise and need consolation from you. It was sweet, and each time he heard a soft thump, he learned to wait for the quiet "sorry" that would follow.

Despite how he loved seeing you apologize to furniture, he did not want you hurting yourself, so he had taken to covering up any corners with his hand if you were about to bump into them. If, in your endless giggles, you were about to hit a table or a wall, he caught your hand so that your palm would not feel the sting and tingle afterwards. Now, you apologized to him, making excuses for your clumsiness, and he always reassured you that it was charming.

It was your guys’ turn to clean up the kitchen after dinner, so you both got to work. You began to put away any dried dishes from the rack while Rook wiped down the counters. It was always pleasant working with him. He was wonderful at conversations and never let a silence grow uncomfortable.

“So, Trickster, how are you enjoying sharing your dorm with everyone?” he asked, placing the fruit basket back onto the main island. He had noticed you insisted on being a good host, despite how dilapidated the dorm was.

Drying another cup, you shrugged. “It’s been fine, I guess. Lively. It makes me wonder what the dorm was like when students still lived here,” you said. You were occupied with the secrets of this place, always chatting away with the ghosts after they startled you.

Rook smiled; the thought of this old place filled with students talking and bickering from wall to wall was a pleasant one. “Hmm, that means we are breathing life into historical ruin, oui?”

“I guess,” you replied, smiling. You turned around to put a plate into the other cabinets, unknowingly heading straight into the overhead fan above the stove.

But just before your face hit the metal, Rook reached over and tugged you back by the collar of your shirt. “Ah, fais attention! You need to remain observant, Trickster.” Rook tugged you back before stepping in front of you to take the glass plate from your hands.

You were flustered, embarrassed by your clumsiness. “Oh, uhm… sorry, Rook.”

“T'inquiète! Here, I will finish the dishes, and you can sweep. I’d rather you didn’t hold anything fragile,” he teased, his green eyes narrowing upon the beautiful flush that traveled to your ears.

JAMIL VIPER.

🩷 — Being extra cautious whenever someone knocks on the door.

The knocking at the door always startled you. He saw it firsthand when you tried to hide the fact that you answered the dorm with the broom in hand as if he were some sinister attacker and not just the guy who was carrying in water bottles for his and Kalim's stay at the dorm. He was suspicious of your reasons but figured he would just lie back and observe for a while.

And then he saw you argue with Epel after he opened the door before checking who was outside. Jamil knew that was reckless, but they were on campus, and he felt your reaction was a bit dramatic. He just opened the door, not the gate to the underworld. But again, he decided to just observe.

From then on, he saw the way you flinched at the sound of familiar knocks. It was the afternoon, and Ace was coming back from club activities, or Vil was returning with his packages, or Rook was coming back after his little hunts, and yet you always seemed to be waiting for the worst. Like Death himself was waiting just outside that old door, scythe ready to cut you down at the foyer. So, Jamil began to answer the door for you. It was no skin off his back, and quite frankly, seeing you so shaken up was not pleasant. He did owe you for all that happened at Scarabia.

A knock came at the door as he was cutting fruit in the kitchen. He set the knife down and rinsed his hands before heading to answer the door but found you already there, a bottle of bleach from the laundry room held behind your back as you checked who it was. He watched your shoulder drop as you realized it was only Epel and Deuce.

After you let them in, he approached, taking the bottle from your hands with an arched brow. “‘An jad? Bleach?”

You looked away from him, embarrassed. “Just in case, you know—”

“Just in case someone hostile is waiting for you outside?” He asked with a deadpan expression, as if trying to tell you with just his eyes that the most threatening thing to pass through those doors was a hangry Grim.

You bit the inside of your cheek, and he almost felt guilty for his bluntness. Almost. He did not know how to put it to you softly. He sighed and set the bottle down on a nearby table. His hands found their home on his hips. “There’s no one coming to attack you.”

“You don’t know that. When I was a kid…” You began but quickly quieted yourself down, unsure if you should share that story with him. It was not like he was a friend, nor did he seem to like you very much.

Jamil’s brows furrowed. “When you were a kid...?”

“Never mind,” you mumbled.

Jamil sighed once more. “Fine. Come, I just finished cutting up those peaches Rook brought.”

KALIM AL ASIM.

🩷 — Always shutting the blinds and curtains at sunset.

Kalim was quick to catch on to how the minute you saw the sky turn pink, you turned on the lights and began to go around tugging curtains shut and closing the blinds of all the windows. If you ever noticed a crack in the dark sky peeking through the fabric, you always found a way to cover it up, leaving no view of the outside to be seen.

At first, he assumed it was just a chore that you did, and so he offered to help. Whenever you got up to close the blinds by the door, he took care of the ones in the lounge, doing his best to make sure no part of the window was showing, just how you liked it.

Tonight, it seemed to come by even quicker, so you forgot about your ritual blind closing, and before you knew it, it was dark. You got up and quickly went to work, and of course, Kalim followed you.

As you were closing the large blinds of the lounge, you saw a shadow move outside in the dark. You flinched and let out a little yelp, alerting your light-haired friend.

“Whoa—are you alright, qumri?” He asked, his hands hovering around you, almost cautious about holding you. His carmine eyes were wide with concern as a soft frown tugged at his lips.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and tugged the edge of the curtain behind the shelf to hold it shut. “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. I just thought I saw something outside, you know?” you explained, and then you felt silly for your fears.

The nighttime was beautiful, and you tended to enjoy a late-night walk here and there, and yet the idea of seeing someone outside of your dark window still horrified you. You were acting like a kid had just seen a poorly made horror film. Gently, you touched Kalim’s forearms and guided them down. “I’m fine; it’s silly.”

Kalim’s frown deepened. He hated to see you be so dismissive of your feelings. It reminded him of Jamil. So, he shook his head. “You’re not fine. You’re scared, and that’s okay. I can close the rest of the curtains.” He began to guide you to the couch to sit.

“No, really, Kalim—”

He stubbornly shook his head. “La’ ajlis. Sit down, I’ll finish it, and then we can talk.”

You wanted to argue, but there was a look in his eyes that proved it would be pointless, so you just nodded. “Okay.”

DEUCE SPADE.

🩷 — Painting whatever part of the dorm seems blank, but never finishing the piece.

Unlike much of the VDC group, Deuce and his heart card companion had been in Ramshackle dorm many times before, so he easily began to pick up so many little things about the dorms, such as the little paintings on the doors and baseboards that seemed to start and then never be completed.

He noticed them first on the front door. You were squatting down, painting vines and flowers along the wood, and you got to about half of the door before abandoning the project, muttering to Grim about how you would finish it later. Three overblots since then, and you had not finished it.

His green eyes would find other paintings too, along the baseboards of the halls, little planets along one of the kitchen cabinets, butterflies on the bedposts of some of the rooms, and roses on the windowsills, and yet none of them were completed. He would catch you sitting on the hardwood floor, painting, before finding you the next second somewhere else doing something else. He was not the most consistent guy, so he did not judge you for never finishing the projects. In fact, he found your unfinished art charming. You were leaving your mark on this world before you eventually had to pass through and return to your own.

When you saw you crouched down before the windowsill in the early morning, while Vil was still doing his morning routine, and Rook could be heard singing as he tended to the plants outside, he decided to join you. There was a disposable plate on the ground with some paints, a few brushes, and a cup filled with water.

“Are you gonna finish this one?” he asked, his hair still messy from his sleep and his pink sweatsuit wrinkled up from sleep.

You shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not.” You never once looked up from your work, painting little chicks walking in a squiggly line. You had blocked out the shapes, drawing in where the brightest colors would go and where the darkest ones would go.

Deuce nodded, almost entranced at the movements your hands made to make the chicks come to life. “You should come get breakfast,” he said after a minute or so.

“I will. I just want to finish one of the chicks.”

He wanted to remind you that this piece would end up like all the other ones littered around the dorm—unfinished—but he opted not to, just nodding. “Alright. I’ll save you a spot.”

EPEL FELMIER.

🩷 — Acting fidgety whenever you’re outside and it's late.

You always tended to be at Ramshackle before nightfall, and you seemed very insistent about it, but Epel thought nothing of it. He knew how his housewarden could get whenever people were up and out late at night, so he just assumed you were just a stickler for the rules. Though if he was going to be quite frank, had he been the person from another world ending up somewhere else, he would not follow any stuffy rules regarding curfews and whatnot.

But then he ends up walking with you back to Ramshackle, alone at night, once the library is closed. You both lost track of time as you studied, and the sun decided not to wait until you returned home to set, since the moon insisted upon getting his turn to watch the tiny people on this side of the planet. Epel then realizes that you are not just some goody-two-shoes but instead terrified of walking in the dark.

It did not help that Ramschackle was so far from the rest of the school, so isolated, with many places for creepers to hide while you walked on the much too noisy cobblestone road.

He felt sorry watching as you fidgeted about, looking around while picking at your cuticles in a way that would get you a long scolding from Vil. The slightest shift from the trees, the coo of the nocturnal birds—it all made you nervous and flinch. In your colorful imagination, the crows decided to come out just to caw at you. Some nights you could feel something crawling down the back of your neck, into the space between your skin and your ill-fitting hand-me-down uniform. It was too much for your fragile nerves.

Thus, Epel took things into his own hands, literally. He reached over and tugged your hand, holding it as tightly as he could in his own. “Hey, don’t worry. If anything comes up, I can handle it,” he said, puffing his chest up a bit.

You gazed at the cute first-year, his lilac hair bouncing gorgeously, his large turquoise eyes displaying naivete and determination, and his hands, which were calloused from his work he did with his family, softened only recently with the lotions he received after being placed in Pomefiore. You felt a little more secure after you looked at him… less alone. You were certain that the monsters would crawl away and all the crows would be chased off by his raging temper. You nodded. “Okay.”

“I’m serious! Trust me, I can protect ya, I promise,” he responded, searching for doubt in your eyes. When he could find none, he huffed and walked ahead, stepping just a little bit in front of you as he led you down the cobblestone path.

ACE TRAPPOLA.

🩷 — Leaving your things in spots where they do not belong.

Ace, like Deuce, had the pleasure of knowing you and Grim before the VDC came about; thus, he already knew about your weird habits regarding opening the door and painting random little stuff. Hell, he often called you a cat for the way you sat and read your books, but really, living with you made him aware of a different habit of yours. You loved to just leave your things around the place. Occasionally, you even left your things in the room where he was staying.

Once it was your hairbrush, which you left at the vanity in his room since you believed his room had a better mirror-to-dresser ratio that matched your height. You did your hair and left your hair-filled hairbrush and hair ties on the vanity, which he proceeded to chase you with, only to be scolded by Vil for the commotion.

It was true what they said; you do not truly know someone until they are living with you. He watched you reapply lip balm in the kitchen before leaving the product on the counter-top by the paper towels, and then you proceeded to complain about not being able to find it a few hours later. Ace felt like the wife in some old sitcom telling her husband where his keys were, in his pocket, and his sunglasses, on his head.

But it was delightful, despite how he rolled his eyes and poked your cheek with your lip balm mid-rant.

You left your mark even without your paint set, and it was beautiful. Your perfume on the hallway windowsill where you were applying it while watching Rook tend to the plants, your book in the laundry room where you had been reading while your clothes ran through the wash, your journal, which you forgot by the door, and your jacket across the couch, where Vil repeatedly reminded you it did not belong. He memorized all the places your stuff touched, like a lover's kiss across warm skin.

So, when you barreled into the lounge, racing down the stairs, rambling something about your missing notes, he did not even have to look up from his phone. He used his foot to point at them on a table across from the couch he was lying on. “Honestly, you should probably just tape your things to yourself. You lose everything,” he drawled, like it was an inconvenience to him.

You rolled your eyes as you walked over to collect your things. “Oh, shut up, Ace. This chaos is controlled.”

“Controlled? You can’t tell your hands from your feet. Hey—Ow!” His teasing was cut short when you pinched his calf.

“If you don’t got nothing nice to say, keep your mouth shut.”

Ace scoffed as he sat up, running a hand through his hair. “Whatever.”

And still, he watched with fondness as you made your way out, forgetting your headband on the couch, the place you had set it down to free your hands up for your notes.

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#💖 — amoris writes #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #jamil viper #rook hunt #jamil viper x reader #rook hunt x reader #vil schoenheit #vil schoenheit x reader

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munchieschomp · 6 days ago

Text

beautiful stranger.

catching my stare; it's fate we collided right then back there.

in which: he sees and or meets a stranger that somehow draws him in more than he’d care to admit. it may not be love, but it is certainly something.

characters (word count): riddle rosehearts (507) , leona kingscholar (513) , azul ashengrotto (525) , jamil viper (605) , vil schoenheit (553) , malleus draconia (516) . total (3 217) .

c/w: gn!reader . reader’s identity semi-vague with some but is not yuu/mc-coded . romantic crushing . NOT love at first sight . more prose-heavy .

a/n: writing romantic stuff is so hard at times wtf (author is aro). not necessarily canon-compliant to the setting. i just need these boys crushing on the reader SO BAD. it is such a fascinating concept to me ngl wdym u see a person and r like yeah that one?? no idia bc he was giving me such a headache and i don’t want to force myself. leona’s part is lowk fuelled by an ocxcc i have with him but i hope u still enjoy!

riddle rosehearts.

it is a small, bustling cafe – one of those situated just outside the campus, commonly used by the student body during their free time – where he meets you for the first time.

then again, meet might be too strong of a word for the continuous, stolen glances he throws your way when he spots you at one table, just a couple long strides away from the one he has decided to seat himself at on that day.

riddle knows odd little things about the cafe and now you despite visiting the place only a handful of times — and this being the first of seeing you there. if somebody were to inquire about the nature of his knowledge of you, riddle would candidly reply that he is an observant person by nature. nothing more, nothing less. he doubts there is anything strange about the fact that he knows your usual order by heart even if he has only heard it listed twice (first when you ordered, second time from the barista when they finished with it), nor about the fact that he knows the names of some of the books you have brought with you to the cafe due to his constant peeks at your table.

riddle thanks himself, in hindsight, for not bringing any of his dorm mates with him. the teasing he would have received, from something as simple yet as confusing as this. riddle has no clue what to name it, and he taps the side of his teacup in thought, the pad of his index finger drumming rhythmically against the ceramic.

he glances at you again. something in him screams about the impropriety of it all. and still, he cannot help but think how you appear so peaceful with the afternoon sun framing you as you lean over the papers neatly spread on the table you have come to occupy, and riddle finds himself looking a little longer.

the tea is going to grow cold… how troublesome.

riddle forces himself to move his gaze back to the book he had brought, and brings the cup back to his lips. though the liquid has significantly lost some of its warmth, the ceramic rim feels hot against his skin, and he keeps reading the same line over and over again. riddle frowns a little at the observations. he takes a sip the tea in hopes of calming down the subtle racing of his heart, and then makes the mistake of looking up from the pages of his book, at you again.

you are looking back at him. with a dazzling, almost knowing smile on your face. in your dominant hand (the one he has seen holding a pen over your notes for the past half an hour) is an unevenly ripped piece of paper, two words inked onto it in penmanship so undeniably you that the sight catches his breath.

hi, handsome, it reads. riddle somehow manages not to choke on his tea.

there is no denying of the flush of his cheeks and ears, though.

leona kingscholar.

some might say he’s being paranoid. that he’s being too careful, too wary. leona isn’t known for erring in his hunches, but for a split second — just a split second — he considers the possibility of his recurrent fatigue and constant on-guardedness to have caused him to feel like… whatever this is.

the aforementioned this doesn’t occur anywhere else except during his spelldrive matches. more specifically, in the last three games where leona shouted commands at his teammates, throwing the disk with nigh violent force at the goal rings all while that acute impression of being watched continued.

that feeling — it doesn’t feel bad, per se. it’s more similar to gentle, curious prodding, never too invasive or intrusive, but always lasting the entire game. none of his teammates seemed to share his sentiment, meaning leona, lo and behold, is the only one being observed.

he doesn’t know why or who and it’s driving him absolutely insane.

leona glances at the audience of today (for the umpteenth time), at the sea of bobbing heads watching the game intently or animatedly chattering among themselves. none of them seem to even look specifically in his direction, much less long enough to be the cause of this feeling. with no luck and a new irritated crease to his brow, leona takes off on his broom. focus on the game, he chants in his head as the disc is passed to him again. focus on the game.

the opposing team’s captain barks orders to their team, and two people fly towards leona at the same time. he dives down sharply mid-flight. focus on the game.

wind howls in his ears and leona can feel his ponytail loosening ever so slightly when he manoeuvres around his opponents, the yells of the audience increasing steadily. focus on the–

the feeling returns, stronger, at the exact moment the disc flies through the opposing team’s goal. a loud blare announces the end of the match as leona whips his head around, too distracted to fully register the celebratory yells and whoops of his teammates in the background. where? leona turns on his broom. where?

and then–

there.

his eyes, almost missing you by a narrow second in his haste to swirl around, lock with yours across the hundred and some yards of stadium space. he’s so far away, and yet, leona feels like your expression lifts into a small smile when you notice that he stares back, and something, something indescribable about that smile and that silently studying gaze of yours tells him he has found the culprit of his troubles.

his team chatters around him, most of them ecstatic about the victory. emboldened, perhaps, by the cheers of his pride surrounding him, leona stares at you longer. defiantly, challengingly, and you?

he swears, despite being so far from where you sit, he can see you cocking an eyebrow at him, equally unyielding on your ground.

if that’s your angle… fine, leona thinks as his feet hit the ground, the thrum of adrenaline still clinging to his hammering heart. i’ll play your game.

azul ashengrotto.

ever so discreetly, azul glances at you sitting by your table where you unhurriedly wait to be served.

he still doesn’t know your name; it is, despite that fact, undeniably you sitting there, mouth set into that smile he recognises from his earlier years, and you look as radiant as you did back then, only with less of that more prominent, youthful softness of childhood.

would you recognise him if you saw him now? azul hopes, prays not. he has changed plenty from his younger self – surely it is enough to start from a blank, a clean slate, if only from his side. there is no guarantee you’d even know or remember his name, much less that shy octomer who hid away from others’ most scrutinizing gazes.

(the thought somehow makes him feel simultaneously relieved and disappointed. you likely never became aware of the fact that azul had seen you laughing your heart out that fateful day, his eyes wide as they took in the sight.)

admittedly, azul has been waiting planning for this a while. made sure that if– no, when you would eventually cross paths again, he’d have everything set out neatly, the rush hour would be far, far away, and he would be more than available when you chose a seat.

deep breath in. deep breath out. in. out. he can do this. he has contingency plans for this exact moment, and those plans have contingencies of their own, endless nights spent on endless planning. there is no way i won’t succeed here, azul chants to himself, over and over, as he approaches your table with a charming smile. he hopes it’s not evident how his knuckles threaten to turn white under his gloves, and how tightly he’s gripping the clipboard and the menu. the clack of his shoes sound far too loud despite the ambient chatter all around him, muted slightly by the drumming heartbeat in his ears.

he tries. he, frankly, really tries. but somehow, azul ends up with a too-dry throat and a blanking mind when you turn to him, giving him that smile.

what was supposed to be a suave, confident greeting crumbled into a singular squeaky “hello” escaping his throat almost involuntarily fast, the sound sneaking past his lips just as he snaps his mouth shut in horror, and azul wishes the ground could swallow him now. in fact, if someone would be willing to bury him right this instant, he would pay them triple the value of—

amidst his spiralling, you greet him back, voice familiar and that smile etched onto your lips. azul stiffly hands you the menu, all too aware of the slightest, burning warmth that has started to creep up his neck.

i can work with this, he supposes, subtly straightening his back as you ask him something regarding the dishes. you hum thoughtfully throughout his explanations, gaze flitting between the menu and his eyes.

azul swallows, hard. time to move on to contingency plan number one, then. (hopefully without bumbling through it and needing to move on to the next plan. he’s not entirely convinced he can pull plan c off anymore.)

jamil viper.

for jamil, there had straightforwardly been too many things for him to sort out, too much noise and too many unspoken commands echoing in the halls, and he had, uncharacteristically impulsively, taken the nearest turn to what he had presumed to be an empty balcony, his head spinning and lungs aching for a gasp of night air.

he hadn’t meant to stumble upon you, much less during what was likely your own downtime, away from the flashing lights and loud laughter of the party. just like him, seeking refuge in a place shielded from view.

in a setting like this — where most invitees undoubtedly shared their host’s enthusiasm — people tended to stick inside, dancing and singing the night away, but here you stand, alone, gazing somewhere far with an inexplicable expression set on the part of your face he can see from where he himself stands, frozen, hesitant.

eyes still searching for something, something the extravagance all around you didn’t fulfill, you turn to fully face him, eyes locking with his, and somehow, for someone like jamil who runs and runs in the quicksand, the neverending race swallowing him whole as he gets buried under the imposing tasks and duties, time seems to… stop.

part of your face is illuminated by the warm lights peeking through the slightly opened doorway, while the moon rims your frame in its paler, starker glow. a faint surprise has etched itself into your eyes — a fraction wider than before you took notice of another’s presence in your chosen sanctuary — as you study him carefully from where you stand. jamil forces himself to move his eyes away, an apology building up in his throat already—

and he hears you utter one of your own in sync with him; incredulous, jamil glances back at you. it’s a touch sharper than he intended, and knowing the company most of the invitees share, he almost regrets it. something in your eyes keeps him looking still, the two of you holding each other’s gazes for a while in an odd kind of stalemate which ends when your face eventually breaks into a smile, a puff of a laugh sneaking past your lips. he doesn’t know what about this could possibly seem hilarious to you, and yet the sound of your laughter, however small, makes the corner of his mouth twitch upwards. just slightly.

“not much of a life of the party?” he asks before he can stop himself. you tilt your head, humming in something that sounds half like contemplation and half like agreement, and then you wave him over. it’s not a command, as far as jamil can tell; there is less of an edge to your movement. he hesitates, looks over his shoulder and debates whether he should return to his duties, but ultimately joins your side to overlook the scene spanning from the balcony’s edge.

jamil doesn’t know what to make of that — doesn’t know what to make of you. despite your relaxed posture and unguarded countenance, jamil can make no tail nor head of you. it’s… oddly intriguing.

and frustrating, he realises as he turns his gaze to you who, for reasons unfathomable, in utter silence stare at the scenery enveloped in the dark blanket of night, expression unchanged aside from the few times you catch him staring, flashing him that same smile before your eyes are drawn elsewhere. it is increasingly frustrating, for jamil, who has made it a habit to know. to find out, if only out of built-up instinct.

(but perhaps that is part of the fun. it’s been a while since he’s been challenged like so.)

vil schoenheit.

when vil feels a tap on his shoulder, his first — immediate, built-in — reaction is to sigh, internally.

on one hand, he shouldn’t be too surprised that he is stopped on streets every now and then, but vil had hoped that a bit of a disguise would’ve been able to give him some level of privacy. (if only.) perhaps it was the call he had been on with his manager for a while that gave him away even in spite of the fact that the area is, especially at this time of day, much less flooded with people; vil had deliberately come there specifically knowing that.

clearly, even with all that taken into account, there had not been enough foresight on his part. vil considers ignoring the interaction (if the one-sided, brief touch could even be called one) entirely when his manager pauses mid-rant, and her voice takes on a questioning tone.

“yes, adela, i am still here.” vil pinches the bridge of his nose, turning as gracefully on his heels as he can. perhaps it’ll be just an autograph, then i’ll be on my way. “give me a moment, there is a—”

he sees his belonging first, clutched in someone else’s hands, and vil’s body goes rigid. that someone else is colouring the soundscape with their voice, alongside his manager– they’re talking to him, but vil can’t stop his train of thought going from who dares to take that which is mine to how could i have become this careless.

before he can smoothly gather himself and act before any possible altercation occurred, you have stopped talking and just hand the object to him. vil stares, at his belonging, then at you, at the way your mouth moves and curves around words as you start apologising, something about interrupting his phone call, of all things.

vil remembers, faintly, seeing you somewhere around here earlier that day. he is not sure what exactly made him remark you in the first place, but something about you now catches his eye. the way a smile, genuine and warm, finds its place across your lips, and your extended hand patient, unhurried. and you ask for nothing else, even when vil finally comes to and slowly takes his belonging from you, brushing your hand just the slightest in the process.

he can’t tell if you recognise him. it’s rarer to find someone who doesn’t know his face or name, but whether you realise who he is, you don’t show it. vil watches as you excuse yourself – with much more grace than he, much to his horror, can muster in that moment – and wave in his direction when you take your leave.

vil stands at the same spot for a while, mulling the interaction over and over in his head. he hadn’t had that in a while, especially off-campus. that. such a heartwarmingly simple thing.

“vil?” his manager’s voice cracks in his phone. vil frowns when he realises that he’s been gripping his phone a little too hard, and brings the device back to his ear. he needs something else to think about.

“still here, adela.” vil adjusts his bag, eyes drawn down and catching sight of the object that had fallen, of the object you had picked up. your smile flashes before his eyes again. “you were saying?”

malleus draconia.

“would you care to share the space under my umbrella?”

you glance at him once more, more deliberately than the first time when he had first appeared next to you amidst the rain. malleus delights in the way your eyes, again, drift over him more so in a considering, pondering way. unafraid, you meet his gaze for a few moments before lingering at the sight of heavy rainfall, the pitter-patter showing no signs of coming to a curtain call anytime soon.

you are a curious thing, he decides at that moment. curious, in the intriguing way; and equally curious, in the searching way. malleus finds odd joy in comparing the meanings in his head, both comparable measures to the little amount of your character he has unravelled by just existing a few moments beside you.

and yet, it is the nature of your soul that makes him wonder the most. what could have possibly stopped you from braving the weather, whether with the protection of a cover like his own or a touch of the familiar hum under one’s skin, magic lingering at the precipice of some a person’s —most certainly including his — fingertips, malleus doesn’t know. there should unquestionably be various different ways for you to escape what is generally considered most dreadful weather.

you do not answer him yet. malleus certainly does not mind waiting, umbrella perched neatly to cover the both of you. with the sight of the intricately carved statues on a nearby building perfectly in sight for him, malleus only hums a short tune under his breath, the rain tuning out the rest of the surrounding soundscape.

suddenly, you speak amidst the downpour. it is his turn to glance at your way as you agree to move with him under the safety of his umbrella, and despite being the one who — admittedly on an unusual whim — offered first, malleus cannot help but wonder if you had no precaution against strangers, much less strangers clad almost entirely in black and crowned with imposing horns. he would think many find it comparable to the horrors of the warning fairy tales.

the voice of his governesses rings somewhere in the back of malleus’ head as he offers his arm to you. he can’t tell if you find that peculiar, but, perhaps in search of securing yourself better under the shade of his umbrella, you wind your hand around the crook of his elbow.

surprising him yet again, you ask him about the gargoyles pictured on the inside of his umbrella, and malleus thrills in imparting his knowledge on you. a complete stranger, yet so willing to listen to him talk, the rain enveloping the two of you in a tranquil dome of your own.

malleus meets your eyes mid-sentence. this is… quite nice, he thinks as he watches you nod along to him, attention raptly on the words that flow past his lips.

if fate was kind, malleus would delight in having you regale him with your presence once more.

perhaps on another rainy day, one quite akin to this. he certainly wouldn’t mind.

#▶︎ •၊၊|၊|။||||၊|၊| writings by bree #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts x reader #leona kingscholar x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil schoenheit x reader

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