#ace trapolla x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wafflefries13 · 17 days ago

Text

Something There That Wasn't There Before (Ace x Reader)

Summary: Five times other people noticed Ace was hopelessly in love with you, and one time you did.

AN: I've had a couple other WIPs that have absolutely been kicking my butt, so I needed a break to write something fun and short. I remember early on in TWST a lot of people had a theory that Ace was going to be a traitor or something, and then book 7 happened.

Warnings: AFAB reader she/her pronouns, menstration and blood briefly, fluff, best friends to lovers, does this count as a song fic?

Cross posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Light streamed in through the large windows of Ramshackle dorm, catching the delicately floating dust mots in the air. It probably would have been considered a peaceful morning, if not for the loud banging on the front door that immediately shattered the blissful quiet.

“Seriously, Ace? Again?” (Y/N) huffed without any real malice, hands on her hips. “You’re going to get a permanent mark around your neck at this point.”

Ace scowled and looked away, hands shoved deep in his pockets, the evidence of Riddle’s signature spell locked firmly around his neck.

“I’m going to transfer dorms this time, I mean it,” Ace said, waltzing into Ramshackle without waiting for an invitation. Not that it really mattered, anyway. Everyone in Night Raven College knew that if you were trying to find Ace Trappola, the Prefect’s dilapidated dorm was a good place to start.

(Y/N) followed Ace as he strode purposefully through the hall to the sitting room, flopping down on the couch with his hands behind his head. “Seriously,” She said. “You get collared so often I think your kids are going to be born with one around their neck.”

Ace smirked up at her. “Do you think about my kids a lot, (Y/N)?” He laughed as (Y/N) scowled and kicked his crossed legs.

“Whatever. I’ll make some more eggs. Do you want juice or coffee?”

With a winning smirk, Ace jumped up and followed her, not unlike a particularly fond puppy, into the kitchen.

“He better not eat all my eggs,” Grim grumbled from the banister where he and the Ramshackle ghosts had been watching the exchange. “Last time he came for breakfast he took my waffles!”

“Hadn’t you already had five by that point?” Ezra, the thin and almost skeletal ghost, asked.

“That’s not the point!”

“Oh, it’s best to leave them be,” Phineas, the midsized ghost, said.

Gus, the rotund ghost, picked up Grim, not without due complaints, and the group hovered in the doorway to the kitchen, spying on the two. Ace said something that made (Y/N) laugh, grinning victoriously as she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth to hide her smile. She thumped his chest with her spatula. The observant ghosts noticed that she had made Ace’s plate of breakfast different according to his specific tastes without having needed to ask.

“Ah,” Phineas said. “It’s it a joy to watch it bloom right in front of your eyes? I’d almost forgotten what it’s like.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” Gus said, holding Grim and scratching behind his ears to distract him. “I can see it clear as day.”

“Mra?” Grim asked, trying not to lose himself in the pleasant scratching sensation. “See what?”

“There’s something sweet,” Ezra said. “And almost kind.”

“There’s certainly something there that wasn’t there before,” Phineas concluded with a definitive nod.

“What?” Grim shouted, extracting himself from the ghost’s arms. “What’s there?”

The three gave each other knowing looks. “We’ll tell you when you’re older, Grimmie.”

~~~

Ace gnashed his teeth as the basketball bounced uselessly off the basket rim. It was his fourth time missing an easy basket during club practice that day and the annoying itch of being off his game was starting to get at him.

Coach Vargus blew his whistle, waving everyone off the court for a water break. Ace drank in large gulps from his water bottle, rolling his shoulders to try and shake off whatever funk he was stuck in. He jumped as a freezing cold and wet sensation pressed against his neck. He whipped around his see Floyd glaring down at him, his normal sharp toothed grin pulled into an annoyed frown.

“Geez, Crabby,” Floyd said. “You’re making a mess out there, and not the fun kind.”

Ace shoved Floyd’s water bottle away. “Lay off, I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Jamil said, sitting down on the bleachers and looking at the two sideways. “And it’s affecting the rest of us. So whatever’s going on, get it together.”

Ace swatted at the air as if trying to bat away their comments like flies. “I told you I’m fine! It’s not my fault some people just want to fly off the handle at every little joke.” He frowned and muttered under this breath, “She knew I was just joking, right?”

Jamil and Floyd shared a look, both knowing there was really only one ‘she’ Ace could be referring to.

“Girl trouble?” Floyd teased.

“Knock it off! It’s not like that!”

“So then what is it ‘like,’ then?” Jamil asked, crossing his arms.

“It’s just a misunderstanding, stop prying.”

“Well, if it’s that easy, you have a chance to clear it up now. “ Jamil pointed to the door of the gym. Ace jumped straight to attention as he saw (Y/N) walk in, looking around. She caught his eye and smiled shyly, lifting her hand in an uncertain wave.

Floyd slapped Ace on the back. “Go get ‘em, Crabby!”

Ace rubbed his sore shoulder, glaring back at the two while jogging over to (Y/N). “Uh, hi.”

“Hi,” She said back. “Practice going well?”

“It’s… fine.”

They both didn’t say anything for a second, before speaking at the same time.

“Look, I wanted to-”

“I just wanted to tell you that-”

They both stopped trying to allow the other to speak first. “Go - go ahead,” Ace said nervously.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry,” (Y/N) said, fiddling with her fingers and looking down. “It’s just - I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I’m making a ton of progress with classes and everything, and then someone says something that makes me remember I don’t even know the most basic information of this world, and then it all comes crashing down and I feel like I haven’t made any progress at all. But I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. It was childish and I know you weren’t trying to be mean or anything. I’m sorry.”

Ace’s already flushed face turned even redder. He looked away, pulling up the collar of his jersey to cover the lower half of his face, pretending like he was wiping sweat away. “I, uh, yeah, no, I get it. I’m, uh, I’m sorry too. I keep forgetting you’re not, like, from here and don’t know everything. You know I don’t really mean it when I say that kind of stuff, right? Not to you, anyway.”

“Right, I get it. I guess I need to get thicker skin.”

“No, it was my fault, totally! You’re doing great with everything, more than great! Seriously, you got to just ignore me half the time.” Ace bit his tongue before he could feel himself start to babble more.

She smiled at him and he felt his heart speed up like he was in the middle of practice again. “Thanks, Ace.”

“Uh, yeah, sure, no problem.”

From back at the bleachers, Floyd and Jamil eavesdropped on the pair’s conversation. “Aww,” Floyd teased, elbowing Jamil. “You think they’re going to kiss and make up?”

Jamil pushed his hand away. “Don’t get in the middle of stuff that doesn't involve you.”

“It’s cute though, right? Look how embarrassed Crabby is getting.”

“Yes,” Jamil said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “He’s a dear.”

“Come on, look at them!” Floyd waved his hand, the subject of their observation oblivious. They were standing just an inch too close to each other given the situation, both locked on the other as if they were the only people in the gym, on campus, on Sage’s Island, in the world. (Y/N) laughed at something he said, snapping Ace out of his focus. He blushed hard again, looking away and covering his face with his hand to try and disguise it. “Poor Crabby’s so unsure.”

Jamil sat up straighter, mouth dropping slightly open and eyes wide. He shook his head, ignoring Floyd’s knowing look. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it there before.”

For the second half of practice, Ace scored six baskets.

~~~

It was a perfect spring day. The sun was warm, the sky a robin’s egg blue, and a cool wind swirled around the campsite in the forest surrounding Night Raven College. The newly christened Camp Vargus was in full swing, students running from task to task to try and meet the requirements necessary to keep their club from being shut down.

“Wait, wait! I think I’ve got it!” Deuce yelled in excitement. He was on his hands and knees, leaning down way too close to the base of an unlit campfire. Forbidden from using magic, their group had to start a fire themselves to get ready for the team that was fishing in the nearby lake. The tinder at the base of the pyramid shaped logs started to glow with faint orange sparks.

“Wait, let me see!” Ace said, pushing over to crouch down. He formed a tunnel with his hands, blowing through to try and push more oxygen to the fire.

“Wait, no!” Deuce protested. “You’re going to blow it out!”

“No way, you do this to make it catch!”

The two started shoving each other out of the way. The sparks fizzled and faded, the two boys slumping over in defeat.

“How is this so hard?” Deuce groaned.

“Seriously,” Ace said, rubbing the back of his head. “How do you even do this without magic?”

“Done!” (Y/N) chirped. They whipped around to see a proud (Y/N) standing above a roaring campfire. Grim cheered, holding a skewer with a fish at the end over the blaze.

“Wha-? How did you do that?” Ace said.

“Ramshackle doesn't have any heating,” (Y/N) said. She put her hands around Grim’s shoulders, pushing him back a little away from the flames. “But we do have plenty of fireplaces. You learn new skills pretty quick when it means not freezing to death.”

“That’s… useful?” Deuce said.

“Hey, let us steal some of it!” Ace said. He poked a stick at her fire, sending up sparks as the logs were jostled out of place.

“Pretty sure that’s cheating,” (Y/N) said.

“Pretty sure I didn’t ask,” Ace replied with a smirk. The end of his stick caught fire and he quickly shoved it into the center of his and Deuce’s. They both watched it, enraptured, as the kindling started to smolder before smoking out. (Y/N) couldn't help but laugh at their defeated expressions.

“Come on,” She said, waving at her own fire. “I’ll tell Coach Vargus we all worked on this one.”

“Isn’t that cheating, too?” Ace asked.

“Oh, so now you have a conscience?”

Ace waved her comment away. The small group huddled around the fire, holding their hands out to catch some of its warmth.

“Man, I’m starting to get hungry,” Deuce said. “What I would give for one of those egg sandwiches from the cafeteria.”

“I’d kill for an ice coffee,” Ace agreed.

“Well, it’s nothing as fancy as that, but we can roast some of the fish we caught earlier. Wish we had some salt and lemon for it, but - wait, Grim!? When did you eat all our fish?”

“Isn’t that what it’s there for?” Grim said, unrepentant, licking his paws.

“We still needed that to prove to Coach that we caught some! Otherwise he won’t count our win for the fishing challenge.”

“You should probably hurry,” Deuce said. “The sun’s starting to get low. With everyone else there all day the fish might be scared off.”

“Well, twist my arm, why don’t you?” Ace said, pushing himself up. “Come on, I’ll help you fish.”

(Y/N) took his outstretched hand as he helped her up. “Oh, what a noble sacrifice, Sir Trappola. Your gracious deed will be sung of in legends for generations to come.”

Deuce looked after them. The sun caught around their hair, forming halos. Ace made some comment he couldn’t hear, (Y/N) smiling and shoving him. She looked up and away at something in the tree. But Ace’s gaze stayed on her. His sarcastic expression changed into something else, something harder to pin down. As (Y/N) turned back to him, he snapped back to his usual self, both of them disappearing behind the bend in the road to the lake.

Deuce frowned, looking after them. “He looked her way and I thought I saw…” He shook his head. “That’s new and a bit… alarming.”

~~~

The glittering windows of the indoor mall of Maquillaville proudly promoted all manner of luxury products. (Y/N) twirled around, admiring the jewel like displays as well as the new clothes Vil had acquired for all of them.

“Isn’t this all amazing?” She said, clasping her hands together.

“Yeah, a real scream.”

(Y/N) turned to Ace’s grumbling tone, hiding her smile behind her hand at him. Ace was loaded down with a veritable mountain of colorful shopping bags, each emblazoned with logos from shops where a simple pair of socks would probably cost more than (Y/N) would ever make in a year.

“Ugh,” Ace complained. “I think my spine is permanently bent.”

“Don’t let Coach Vargis hear that,” (Y/N) said. “He’ll give you a lecture on how you need to work on your core muscle strength.”

Ace suddenly stood up straight, holding his bags out like free weights. “I was just kidding! I’m so strong stuff like this is nothing!”

“Good to hear,” Vil said behind them, dumping another round on bags in Ace’s waiting arms. “We still have a few more stops before dinner. You’re able to keep up, aren’t you?”

“Here, let me help,” (Y/N) said with a laugh, taking a stack of boxes Ace was struggling to keep upright. The two first years walked a few paces behind Vil, Azul, and Jamil, who were much less burdened.

Every once and a while, a fan would come up, asking Vil for an autograph. He would graciously smile, sign whatever they had, then make pleasant excuses to usher the group away before a crowd of admirers had a chance to form. Surprisingly, the rest of them weren’t immune from this phenomenon. A pair of girls had tried to sneakily take a picture of Jamil as they stopped at a sweet shop, and Azul had been asked for an autograph as well. The magnetism of just being around a star like Vil, not to mention their new threads, made them seem like stars themselves.

As the three upperclassmen went into a store, Ace unceremoniously dropped his bags. He exaggerated stretching his back out, looking sideways to make sure (Y/N) had laughed at his hyperbolic pain.

“Excuse me,” A small voice came from behind them. Ace turned around to see too fashionably dressed girls standing in front of him. “Can we take a picture with you, please?”

“Me?” Ace asked, pointing to himself. “I mean, yeah, sure, why not?”

The two lit up. One of them grabbed Ace’s arm, pulling him in close, making him blush and look over for (Y/N)’s reaction. She was busy with the other girl who had shoved her phone at her, asking her to take the picture.

“Alright,” (Y/N) said, awkwardly holding the phone up. “Say ‘Cheese.’”

“Cheese!” The two girls said, pushing themselves close to Ace. (Y/N) could tell his smile was forced. He kept moving his hands, not quite knowing what to do with them, hovering in the air just above their shoulders. They girls giggled as they thanked Ace, not bothering to throw (Y/N) a second glance.

“That was weird,” Ace said, running a hand through his hair.

“Sort of,” (Y/N) said. “They probably thought you were a celebrity here for the movie premier. Or maybe they just wanted a picture with a cute boy.”

“Cute-?!” Ace sputtered. “Come on, (Y/N) you can’t just say stuff like that out of nowhere.”

“Why not? It’s true, isn’t it?” She brushed her hand along his hair, pushing back a few locks that he had ruffled out of place. “It’s fun to see you dressed up to the nines every once and a while.”

He pushed her hands away with a wide grin. “Yeah, well, I guess you clean up pretty good, too.”

(Y/N) held up her ghost camera, holding it up at various angles and circling, mimicking the various paparazzi that had been waiting for Vil around town. “Mr. Trappola, Mr. Trappola! Over here! Can we get a picture? Give us an interview! Who are you wearing? Are you going with anyone to the premier?” Ace dropped the shopping bags, posing in dramatic and exaggerated poses. Both of them broke out into giggles between shots.

From across the hall, the three upperclassmen had just stepped out of the store, watching the two first years.“Honestly,” Vil said. “Is it too much to ask for focus while I step away for five minutes?”

“Is it really that much of a surprise?” Jamil said. “We probably should have expected something like this after he, ahem, won the lottery.”

“How touching,” Azul said with a hand to his chest.”You know, as upperclassmen, we should, how should I put it? Encourage those younger than us, yes?”

Jamil matched Azul’s sly look. “I see what you mean. Maybe Ace deserves a little chat from his betters, yes?”

Vil smacked them both with one of his shopping bags. “Oh, leave them alone. I’m more surprised (Y/N) is falling for any of this.”

“Falling for it?” Jamil asked.

“He’s mean and coarse and unrefined,” Vil said. Looking back at them, his face softened with something almost like adoration. “Although, I suppose there is something there that wasn’t there before.”

“Oh?” Azul said, voice full of faux sympathy. “And what’s that, exactly?”

Vil rolled his eyes. “I knew this was a mistake.” He waved over at Ace and (Y/N). “You two! Enough dawdling! We have plenty to do.”

He watched as Ace exaggerated a sigh, hefting the bags up as if they were filled with bricks. (Y/N) giggled, taking a few of them from him to lighten the load.

Turning, Vil couldn’t help smiling to himself. “Really, who would have ever thought that this could be?”

~~~

Ace whistled as he cut a slice of cherry pie in the Heartstabuyl kitchen. He had begged his mom to send him her old recipe, the one she used to make pies for his birthday for years. He’d made it himself, with only a few tips and suggestions from Trey watching over his shoulder. He’d left (Y/N) in one of the dorm tea rooms. He’d invited her over to study, but even after they had been here for almost an hour, waiting for the pie to bake, they had barely gone through two pages of their textbook. He scooped up the two plates, holding them up like a fancy waiter, and headed back to the tea room.

“Alright,” Ace said, pushing the door open as he walked backward into the tea room. “One piece of Trappola famous cherry pie coming right-” He froze as he took in (Y/N)’s tear stained face. She was standing, worrying her hands together and staring at a red stain on the once pristine white couch.

“I started my period,” She choked out. “I didn’t realize so I must have bled through my skirt and on to the couch and now it’s stained and Riddle is going to be furious and this is so embarrassing and - oh my god!” She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

“Hey! Hey, hey, hey!” Ace said, quickly putting the pie on a table and rushing over to her. “It’s okay! Come on, we’re two smart people, right? We can fix this. There’s probably some kind of cleaning solution or something around here. Or can we cover it up? I wonder if that color changing spell would work. Oh, wait! Here.” He quickly shrugged out of this jacket, slinging it around (Y/N) to tie around her waist. “There, see? That’s one problem down already.”

(Y/N) hiccuped another sob, rubbing at her teary eyes with the heel of her hand. “I-”

They both froze as they heard Riddle’s voice coming from down the hall. A second later, the handle of the door clicked as it was pushed open.

Two very important things happened all at once within the span of the next breath. First, the door to the sitting room opened, revealing Riddle, Cater, and Trey. Second, Ace snatched up the plates of pie from the table, upending them and smushing the bursting red cherries into the white couch.

The very air seemed to freeze in the room. The three upperclassmen stared at Ace, Riddle’s mouth dropped open in shock.

Standing up and dusting his hands, Ace smiled wide and said, “Oops! My fault! Sorry about that, Housewarden, I’ll - Ack!” Riddle’s signature spell hit him so hard Ace fell back hard on his rear end.

(Y/N) gasped. Riddle was turning as red as the stained couch, standing over Ace on his dagger like high heels and ranting while the other boy stared down at the floor.

“No, wait-” (Y/N) started.

“Man, I’m such a clutz sometimes, right, (Y/N)?” Ace cut her off, rolling his eyes dramatically as if he didn’t have a care in the world and the collar around his neck was no more an inconvenience than an itchy bug bite. “Seriously, I don’t know how you put up with me sometimes.”

Riddle grabbed the lock-shaped collar and yanked Ace back around. “If you would listen for once in your life-!” Riddle continued.

Trey had quickly run over to a cabinet in the corner of the room, pulling out cleaning supplies and hand towels. He started scraping off chunks of pie from the couch, trying to salvage it as much as he could. Cater slowly pocketed his phone, looking between each of them before his gaze settled on (Y/N). He smiled in that reassuring, big brother, Magicam perfect way and came over to her, gently taking her arm.

“Hey, have you seen the new topiary in the garden?” Cater said, pulling her away from the scene of the crime. “We had them shaped like bunnies!” He quickly ushered her out of the room, ignoring her protests. Instead of heading outside, Cater brought her to the dorm bathroom. “Do you have any supplies with you?”

(Y/N) looked up at him, embarrassed. “How do you…?”

“I have sisters, you know? Guessing that has something to do with the couch, right? No, don’t worry, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. So, do you have anything? I can go grab something if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. I think I do.” She dug through her bag and headed into the bathroom.

Cater pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to Trey. “Don’t let Riddle go too hard on Ace, okay? People do stupid things when they’re trying to impress someone they like.” He looked up as the bathroom door opened, (Y/N) whipping her wet hands on her skirt. Cater directed her outside to the gardens, although he couldn’t help note her worried and longing glances back to the sitting room.

“Why did he do that?” (Y/N) asked in a small voice.

Cater hummed. He pulled at the sleeve of Ace’s jacket she still had wrapped around her waist. “Well, it’s true he’s no Prince Charming. But I think Ace likes being your white knight sometimes, you know?”

~~~

The Disamonia dorm was quiet as everyone slowly started to wake from Malleus’s Overblot. Everyone awake started rousing the others, pulling away thorny vines and helping sleep addled students sit up.

Ace was sitting against the cool stone wall of the dorm sitting room, knees up, head leaning back, and eyes closed. Sure, they had been asleep for all of the actual action, but his heart was still speeding along as if they’d had a brutal brawl in real life. His eyes cracked open a little as (Y/N) came to sit down next to him.

“You know,” (Y/N) said, knocking her shoulder gently against Ace’s. “You were the only person who had me in their dream.”

Ace looked away and blushed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Your dream was an endless summer vacation. No responsibilities, no one to answer to, just perfect sunny days with people you care about. And I was there. It could have just been a tropical paradise, but your dream specifically included a way for me to be happy. For a world that was supposed to be all about you, that’s interesting, right?”

“Yeah, I mean,” Ace said. He still wouldn’t look at her, face turning red as he rubbed the back of his head. “Feels like I’m always taking care of you anyway. Must have gotten stuck in my subconscious.”

(Y/N) hummed. “It was really sweet.” She shuffled closer. “All this time I think it’s been in the back of my mind, but I’ve never really noticed. You’re always doing that kind of stuff for me, aren’t you? You joke about having to come to my rescue, taking care of me, but I guess you’re kind of right. But maybe I like that. Maybe I just want an excuse to keep you closer to me.” She was quiet for a moment. “Even if it doesn't work out, even if I’m never able to go back to my original world, I think I’d be okay. I mean, I’d be sad, of course. I miss so many people and things back there. Seriously, you have no idea what I’d do for a Dr. Pepper right now. But, I mean, here, in this world, I’ve seen so many amazing things. There’s magic and adventure and danger and beauty I could never have dreamed of. And, of course, there’s you.” Ace jerked up, looking at her with wide eyes. “And I think that makes everything worth it.”

Before either of them could think too hard about it, before they could say another word, (Y/N) leaned forward, kissing Ace. His eyes widened in surprise before fluttering closed. Tension melted out of his shoulders and he leaned closer, bringing up a hand to cradle the back of her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. (Y/N)’s hand clutched at his shirt, pulling him ever closer.

“Oh, no!” Epel said. They jolted apart, surprised and suddenly remembering they weren’t the only people in the room. “I did not just go through all of that just to wake up and watch you two make out!”

“Oh, lay off,” Leona said. “It’s about time. Better than watching that one be all moon-eyed all school year.”

“Hey!” Ace protested, but his grip on (Y/N)’s hand didn’t falter. “I am not ‘moon-eyed’!”

(Y/N) laughed, wrapping her arms around Ace’s shoulders and burying her face in his chest. Ace humphed, turning red, his hand going up to rub against her back, hugging her closer.

“Ace?” She said quietly.

“Yeah? What’s up?” He said nervously.

“I’m really glad you’re here. I’m just sorry I didn’t see it there before.”

“See what?”

In reply, she kissed him again.

#wafflefriesfic #fanfic #twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #reader insert #twst x reader #ace trapolla x reader #ace x reader #ace trappola #comfort fic

284 notes · View notes

kanaria-a · 3 days ago

Note

YOUR WRITING IS SO GOOD i was 100 percent giggling and kicking my feet as I read your text. Could i be called 🛸 anon if you’ll allow it i have so many ideas for twisted wonderland x reader (you’ll notice how they’re all yandere based but if you’re not comfortable with them then I could offer some that aren’t yandere based)

If you don’t mind could you do a yandere jester ace trapolla x royal reader? I had that idea for a while and tried writing it but scrapped it. So imagine we see Ace descending into madness as he’s soon going to see reader getting married to someone else. It would be so cool if they’ve known each other since childhood and we get to see how his feelings progressed into obsession like imagine their life used to be so much more simpler where they could just depend on each other and he wished it was just like that where in their world, it was just them too.

❝Love me, loving you. Even the thorns and hurting leave me touching you.❞

in which….Yeah, i’m sure yall get it.

The bells on his cap jingled softly as Ace pressed his ear against the heavy oak door, straining to hear the conversation within the royal chambers. Through the thick wood, your father's voice carried the weight of finality as he discussed the arrangements for your upcoming wedding—a political alliance that would strengthen the kingdom's borders and secure trade routes for generations to come. Three weeks, Ace thought, his gloved hands clenching into fists. Three weeks until they take you away forever. He remembered when such barriers didn't exist between you, when the difference between royalty and commoner was nothing more than the clothes you wore. In those golden afternoons of childhood, you had been simply two children playing in the castle gardens, your laughter echoing off ancient stone walls as you chased each other through hedge mazes and splashed in ornamental fountains. "Ace!" you had called to him that first day, seven years old and gap-toothed, your crown sitting askew on your head as you escaped from your tutors. "Want to see the secret passage I found?" He had been the groundskeeper's son then, small and wiry with dirt under his fingernails and grass stains on his knees. The other children whispered that he was too bold, too quick with his tongue, too willing to speak truths that made adults uncomfortable. But you had seen something different in his mischievous grin and clever eyes. "Your Highness shouldn't be talking to someone like me," he had said, even then understanding the invisible lines that divided your worlds. "That's stupid," you had declared with all the fierce certainty of childhood. "I like you. You're funny and you don't treat me like I'm made of glass." And so began the most important relationship of his life—a friendship that bloomed in secret corners and stolen moments, away from the watchful eyes of courtiers and the expectations of royal protocol. You taught him to read using books smuggled from the royal library. He showed you how to climb trees and catch fireflies, how to laugh until your sides ached and forget about the weight of a crown.

Those were the days when your world consisted only of each other, when nothing else mattered beyond the next adventure, the next shared secret. Ace treasured every memory: teaching you card tricks behind the stables, listening to your dreams of traveling beyond the kingdom's borders, holding your hand when thunder scared you during summer storms. As you both grew older, the differences between your stations became harder to ignore. Your lessons grew more demanding, your free time more carefully monitored. Ace found himself relegated to brief encounters—a smile shared across a crowded room, a hastily passed note during formal dinners, stolen conversations in the moments between your royal obligations. It was your fourteenth birthday when everything changed. The king had summoned Ace to the throne room, and for one terrifying moment, he thought he had been discovered, that your secret friendship would be his downfall. "You have a gift," the king had said instead, studying Ace with calculating eyes. "My daughter speaks highly of your… entertainment value. The court has been dull lately. Perhaps it's time we had a proper jester." The offer came with a proposition that was impossible to refuse: a place at court, regular meals, fine clothes, and—most importantly—the right to remain near you. All he had to do was transform his natural wit into performance, his cleverness into comedy. "Say yes," you had whispered later that night, finding him in the gardens where he sat contemplating this twist of fate. "Please, Ace. It's the only way we can stay together." The desperation in your voice sealed his decision. He would become anything, play any role, if it meant preserving the connection between you. The transition from friend to entertainer proved more difficult than either of you anticipated. As the court jester, Ace gained access to royal functions and the right to speak freely—within limits. His jokes could carry barbs, his observations could highlight uncomfortable truths, but always wrapped in enough humor to maintain plausible deniability. But the role came with its own prison. He could no longer simply be your friend; every interaction was now performance, every private moment potentially observed and judged by the court. The easy intimacy of childhood became something he had to steal, to carefully orchestrate when no one was watching. "I miss how things used to be," you confessed one evening when you were sixteen, finding him practicing new routines in the empty great hall. "When we could just… be ourselves." "We still can," Ace insisted, though even he could hear the lie in his voice. The bells on his costume jingled as he moved to sit beside you on the steps leading to the throne. "Nothing's really changed between us." But everything had changed. Your world had expanded to include suitors and state dinners, diplomatic negotiations and marriage prospects. His world had narrowed to focus entirely on you—your schedule, your moods, your fleeting moments of happiness in an increasingly constrained life.

The obsession grew slowly, imperceptibly at first. What began as devoted friendship evolved into something more intense, more desperate. Ace memorized your expressions, catalogued your preferences, arranged his entire existence around the moments when he could make you smile. Your laughter became his addiction, your attention his greatest reward. He began to notice things others missed—how your smile never quite reached your eyes during formal portraits, how your hands trembled slightly when discussing your future marriage prospects, how you searched the crowd for his face during particularly tedious ceremonies. The knowledge that he alone truly understood you felt like both privilege and torment. "The Duke of Rosevale will be visiting next month," you mentioned one afternoon as Ace performed card tricks to distract you from wedding preparations. "Father says he's… interested in forming an alliance." The cards scattered from Ace's suddenly nerveless fingers. "An alliance," he repeated, his voice carefully neutral despite the way his heart clenched. "A marriage alliance," you clarified, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'm eighteen now. Old enough to fulfill my duties to the kingdom." That night, Ace stared at the ceiling of his small chamber, mind racing with possibilities. He could make the Duke look foolish during his visit, engineer embarrassing situations, use his position to sabotage the negotiations. But you would simply be promised to someone else—another duke, another prince, another stranger who would take you away from everything you'd ever known. The Duke of Rosevale proved to be everything Ace despised: handsome in a conventional way, politically astute, wealthy beyond measure. Worse, he was kind to you, treating you with the sort of respectful affection that made Ace's jealousy feel petty and misdirected. "He's not terrible," you admitted to Ace during one of your rare private conversations. "He listens when I speak, asks about my interests. Father says I'm fortunate to have such a considerate match." Ace's painted smile felt like a mask that might crack at any moment. "Sounds like a fairytale," he managed, juggling pins with mechanical precision while his mind screamed in protest. "But I don't love him," you continued, your voice so quiet he almost missed it. "I don't know if I ever could. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to marry someone I actually care about, someone who truly knows me…" The longing in your voice nearly broke his resolve. For one desperate moment, Ace considered dropping his juggling pins, tearing off his jester's cap, and confessing everything—how he had loved you since childhood, how every performance was just an excuse to remain near you, how the thought of losing you to another man was slowly driving him mad. Instead, he caught the pins with a flourish and bowed deeply. "Your Highness deserves nothing less than a love story worthy of the songs," he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. The engagement announcement came three months later, proclaimed with great fanfare and celebration throughout the kingdom. Ace performed at the announcement feast, his jokes sharper than usual, his smile more brittle. He watched you accept congratulations with gracious smiles while your eyes remained distant, almost vacant. That night, he found you on the castle battlements, staring out at the kingdom spread below like a tapestry of lights.

"Quite a party," he said, settling beside you without invitation. In the moonlight, without his bells and painted face, he almost looked like the boy you'd befriended all those years ago. "I keep thinking about when we were children," you said suddenly. "Do you remember that game we used to play? Where we'd pretend we were the only two people in the world?" Ace's breath caught. "The world was simpler then." "I used to wish it could stay that way forever," you continued, your voice breaking slightly. "Just us, in our own little world where nothing else mattered." The confession hung between you like a bridge that neither dared cross. Ace felt the weight of everything he'd never said, every feeling he'd buried beneath layers of performance and pretense. "Maybe it still can be," he whispered, the words escaping before he could stop them. You turned to look at him then, and in your eyes he saw an echo of his own desperate longing. "Ace…" "Run away with me." The words left his lips before he could consider their implications. "Run away with me," he repeated, reaching for your hands. "We could leave tonight. I know roads the Duke's men would never think to search. We could find somewhere they'd never find us, somewhere we could just be—" "You know I can't." Your voice was gentle but firm, and it cut through his heart like a blade. "The kingdom needs this alliance. My people need—" "What about what you need?" Ace demanded, his careful composure finally cracking. "What about what I need? Do you know what it's been like, watching you slip away piece by piece? Performing for crowds while the only person who matters sits just out of reach?" You stared at him, seeming to see him clearly for the first time in years. "Ace, I had no idea you felt—" "Of course you didn't." He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "I'm just the jester. I'm here to entertain, to make you smile, to fade into the background when real life calls. But I've been in love with you since we were children, and I've spent every day since then trying to be worthy of something I can never have." The silence stretched between you, filled with years of unspoken truths and impossible wishes. When you finally spoke, your voice was thick with unshed tears. "If things were different… if I weren't who I am…" "But you are," Ace said, his voice hollow with acceptance. "And I am what I am. The boy who learned to dance and sing and tell jokes because it was the only way to stay close to you." Three weeks passed in a blur of final preparations. Ace performed his duties mechanically, his jokes growing darker, his smiles more strained. The other servants began to avoid him, unnerved by the manic gleam in his eyes and the way he muttered to himself between performances. The night before the wedding, Ace made his choice.

He found the Duke in the castle's wine cellar, sampling vintages for the ceremony. The man stood alone among the ancient barrels, completely unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows. "Your Grace," Ace called softly, stepping into the flickering candlelight. His jester's costume seemed sinister in the dim space, the colorful fabric and jingling bells transformed into something from a nightmare. The Duke turned, wine goblet in hand, and smiled with the easy confidence of a man who had never known real threat. "Ah, the jester. Come to taste the wine? Though I suppose you're more accustomed to ale." "Something like that," Ace murmured, his hand finding the handle of a heavy wine bottle behind his back. "Tell me, Your Grace, do you love her?" "Love?" The Duke seemed amused by the question. "She's a lovely girl, certainly. Intelligent, well-bred. She'll make an excellent duchess." "That's not what I asked." Ace stepped closer, his movements predatory despite the cheerful jingling of his bells. "Do you love her the way she deserves to be loved? Would you die for her? Would you kill for her?" The Duke's expression shifted, wariness creeping into his eyes. "I'm not sure what you're—" The wine bottle connected with his skull with a dull thud. The Duke crumpled to the stone floor, his goblet shattering beside him, red wine spreading like blood across the ancient stones. Ace stared down at the unconscious man, his chest heaving with exhilaration and terror. "I would," he whispered to the still form. "I would do anything for her." Working quickly, Ace bound the Duke with rope from the wine cellar, stuffing his mouth with cloth torn from his own jester's costume. He dragged the unconscious man to a forgotten chamber deep in the castle's foundations—a place he had discovered during childhood explorations with you, a place no one else knew existed. When the Duke awoke hours later, he found himself chained to the wall of a dank stone cell, lit only by a single flickering candle. Ace sat across from him, no longer wearing his jester's bells, his painted smile replaced by an expression of terrifying intensity. "Good morning, Your Grace," Ace said pleasantly, as if they were meeting for tea rather than in a dungeon. "I do hope you slept well. Today was supposed to be your wedding day." The Duke struggled against his bonds, eyes wide with panic above the gag. "Oh, don't worry," Ace continued, his voice taking on the sing-song cadence he used during performances. "No one will find you here. This room has been forgotten for centuries. Perfect for… private conversations." He stood and began to pace, his movements sharp and erratic. "You see, Your Grace, I've been thinking. About love, about duty, about the games people play with other people's lives. And I've come to a rather startling conclusion." The Duke made muffled sounds of protest, straining against the chains. "The conclusion," Ace said, suddenly stopping to stare directly at his captive, "is that sometimes the only way to save someone is to destroy everything that threatens them. Even if that means becoming the monster in their story." Meanwhile, chaos erupted in the castle above. The Duke's absence was discovered at dawn when he failed to appear for the pre-wedding ceremonies. Search parties scoured the grounds while you stood in your wedding gown, pale and trembling, as your father raged about dishonor and broken alliances.

"Where could he have gone?" the King demanded of his guards. "Men don't simply vanish on their wedding day!" Ace appeared at your side during the commotion, his jester's costume perfectly in place, his painted smile sympathetic and concerned. "Your Highness," he said softly, "perhaps this is fate's way of giving you what you truly want." You turned to him, tears streaming down your face. "What I want? Ace, this is a disaster. The alliance, the kingdom's future—" "What about your future?" he interrupted gently. "What about your happiness?" Before you could respond, a guard rushed in with news. "Your Majesty! We found signs of struggle in the wine cellar. Blood on the stones, a broken goblet. There are rumors of bandits in the eastern woods—perhaps they took him for ransom?" Ace's performance was flawless. He gasped in horror with the rest of the court, suggested search parties, even volunteered to help in any way he could. No one suspected the loyal jester who had served the castle faithfully for years. Days passed with no sign of the Duke. Ace maintained his routine, visiting his prisoner twice daily with food and water, always maintaining that cheerful, unhinged demeanor that made the Duke's blood run cold. "She's been asking about you," Ace mentioned during one visit, sitting cross-legged in front of the chained man like a child sharing gossip. "Well, she's been asking where you are. It's not quite the same thing, is it?" The Duke had grown thin and haggard, his fine clothes torn and stained. He no longer struggled against his bonds, having learned that Ace's mood could turn violent without warning. "I've been thinking we should send a ransom note," Ace continued conversationally. "Something about impossible demands, maybe requesting that she be delivered in exchange for your safe return. Of course, no one would agree to such terms, but it would certainly make this look more… authentic." Above ground, you had begun to change. The shock of the Duke's disappearance had given way to something that looked almost like relief. You spent your days in the gardens where you and Ace had played as children, often staring at nothing with an expression of deep contemplation. "You seem… different," Ace observed during one of his performances for the subdued court. "Less burdened, perhaps?" "Is it wrong," you asked quietly when you were alone together later, "to feel grateful that fate intervened? I know I should be worried about him, should be devastated, but instead I feel…" "Free?" Ace suggested, his heart racing with hope and guilt in equal measure. "Free," you agreed, then looked at him with sudden intensity. "Do you think that makes me a terrible person?" Ace wanted to confess everything then—how he had orchestrated your freedom, how his love had driven him to acts he never thought himself capable of. Instead, he took your hand gently. "I think it makes you human," he said. "And I think someone who has spent their whole life putting duty before happiness deserves to feel free, even if the circumstances are… unfortunate."

Weeks turned into months. The Duke was declared dead, the victim of bandits who had apparently killed him when no ransom was forthcoming. The alliance was quietly dissolved, your father too embarrassed by the scandal to pursue another match immediately. In his hidden cell, the Duke had grown wild-eyed and broken, fed just enough to survive but never enough to hope. Ace's visits had become less frequent, his attention focused entirely on the new possibilities opening up in his real life. "She laughed today," he told his prisoner during one visit. "Really laughed, for the first time since you disappeared. It was the most beautiful sound in the world." The Duke could only stare at him with the glazed eyes of a man who had long since accepted his fate. "I've been thinking," Ace continued, "about what to do with you. The original plan was to keep you here until everyone forgot about you, then… well, deal with the problem permanently. But I'm feeling generous today." He produced a key from his pocket, holding it up so the candlelight caught its surface. "I'm going to give you a choice, Your Grace. I can unlock these chains and let you walk out of here. You can return to your lands, tell everyone you escaped your captors, live whatever life you choose." Hope flickered in the Duke's eyes for the first time in months. "But," Ace continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "if you ever come near her again, if you ever so much as send a letter, if you even think about trying to claim what was once promised to you… I will find you. And next time, there won't be any choices. There won't be any mercy." He leaned closer, his painted smile grotesque in the flickering light. "Do we have an understanding?" The Duke nodded frantically, tears streaming down his face. Ace unlocked the chains and stepped back, watching as the broken man stumbled toward the door. "Oh, and Your Grace? If anyone asks what happened, you were held by bandits. Common thieves. Nothing more interesting than that." The Duke fled without looking back, disappearing into the night like a ghost returning to its grave. A year later, you stood in the same garden where you had first met Ace as a child. The seasons had changed, and so had you both. The weight of duty had lifted from your shoulders, replaced by something lighter, more genuine. "Do you ever wonder what happened to him?" you asked as Ace practiced a new juggling routine beside you. "The Duke, I mean." Ace's hands never faltered in their rhythm. "Sometimes," he lied smoothly. "But some mysteries are better left unsolved, don't you think?" You smiled, watching the way sunlight caught in his red hair. "You know, I've been thinking about what you said that night on the battlements. About running away together." His juggling balls hit the ground with soft thuds. "The idea doesn't seem as impossible as it once did," you continued. "Father's been different since the scandal. More… protective. Less eager to marry me off. And I've realized something important." "What's that?" Ace asked, his voice barely audible. "I've realized that the person I want to spend my life with has been right here all along. The person who truly knows me, who makes me laugh, who's been my constant companion through everything." Ace stared at you, hardly daring to breathe. "I know it's unconventional," you said, reaching for his hands. "A princess and a jester. But stranger things have happened in fairytales, haven't they?" As Ace pulled you into his arms, spinning you around the garden while you laughed with pure joy, he allowed himself to believe that perhaps some stories could have happy endings after all. Even if those endings required a little… creative editing. The bells on his discarded cap jingled softly in the breeze, the only witness to the moment when the jester finally claimed his princess, and their childhood dream of a world containing only the two of them finally came true. After all, he had always been willing to do anything to make you smile. Anything at all.

SUDHDBD IM SOOO EMBARRASSED. I didn’t really know if it should’ve ended in, like…A more extreme way or not, so my bad if it’s awkward or anything

｡ﾟ(ﾟ´Д｀ﾟ)ﾟ｡!! But just know, when i find you 🛸 anon, i'm kissing you STRAIGHT on the lips

Uhm..i JUST now realized i kept on saying “she” and i just rolled with i’d already written everything im ENDING IT

#mx kanaria-vespa #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twst wonderland #twst ace #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #royal au #jester au #royal twst au #jester!ace trappola #do i look like a real boy papa #i love you anon #🛸 anon

24 notes · View notes

telephoniii · 6 months ago

Text

REALLY…HIM?

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

NRC boys x Reader (minus Ortho)

Word Counter: 3K

Warnings: Reader is Prefect, Trein is your father figure, established relationship, possible OOC

A/N: life’s getting pretty hectic so i’m sorry if my upload schedule slows down. i hope you enjoy :>

ace trappola

Can’t say he’s surprised, just disappointed. It makes sense; he was one of your first friends. However, that doesn’t make him any less troublesome. Despite being a first-year, Ace is one of the biggest slackers and troublemakers on campus— much to Trein’s dismay. His main worry is that Ace will poorly influence you. He’s already seeing it with the two of you getting a crazy amount of detentions and scoldings for unthinkable reasons. You’ve got it rough already being from another world, you don’t need a devil on your shoulder convincing you to get into all kinds of trouble. It’s a real shame said devil is your boyfriend. He’ll allow the relationship and all will seem swell. Little do you know that he pulled Ace aside and had a long chat.

deuce spade

A fine pick; Trein is neither severely impressed nor disappointed. He doesn’t think Deuce is too bad, but he believes you could do better. Deuce will need to somehow prove himself to Trein. On the outside, Trein looks like he absolutely hates his guts. His eyes are always staring at Deuce with this sharp look and it gets the card soldier real nervous real fast. In reality, it’s just Trein keeping a closer eye on him + his RBF. He’s relatively neutral on the first year, yet Deuce is fully convinced that his professor wants to set him on fire.

cater diamond

Trein is very annoyed with your choice. He doesn’t like Cater’s social media addiction and would much rather have you hit the books than scrolling through Magicam. Not to mention, he feels as though something about Cater’s happy-go-lucky attitude is a facade, and doesn’t trust him around you. Cater finds Trein scary, but he’s not as intimidated as Deuce. As he does with Ace, Trein takes Cater to have a talk, and—surprisingly— his opinions on the third year improve. He doesn’t fully like him, but he’ll tolerate Cater more so than beforehand. Cater also offers to help Trein make a social media account; it’s cute yet chaotic all the same watching them bond.

trey clover

Before Trein can form a solid thought on Trey, the vice housewarden is subtly trying to win his favor. Trey knows how about his father-like connection to you and immediately shapes up. He gifts Trein different pastries and learns which ones he’s partial to. What really wins the professor over is when Trey starts volunteering to help clean his classroom after class. Trein won’t even know the two of you are already together and he’ll make comments around you like, “That Clover boy is real nice…” Needless to say, Trein approves of Trey long before he finds out you both are in a relationship.

riddle rosehearts

Trein immediately scowls when he hears the news of your relationship. You’d think he’d approve due to Riddle’s intellect and dutiful behavior. Admittedly, Trein does like that about Riddle. But he despises the boy’s bursts of anger, finding them childish and unfitting for a future mage. He’s seen the housewarden go berserk on one too many students and doesn’t trust he won’t do the same to you. Trein doesn’t want you walking on eggshells around your own partner. This is another one who’ll have to prove themselves to Trein. Riddle will be upset when he hears of Trein’s low opinion of him, but gets a surge of motivation to convince him otherwise. You’ll find Riddle working even harder on his studies than before you didn’t even think that was possible in hopes of gaining Trein’s favor. He’ll eventually get it. I imagine that Riddle does some small, heroic deed for you that really shows his love, and Trein just so happens to be passing by and sees it. Once your unofficial official father in Twisted Wonderland gets along with Riddle, expect to be nagged about missing assignments and homework a WHOLE LOT.

jack howl

Similar to Trey, he immediately knows about your bond with Trein. Instead of trying to win over the professor, Jack takes a more blunt approach. He goes straight to his desk after class and tells him about your relationship, being upfront about his feelings towards you. Trein respects it. He thinks that Jack has more guts than most on campus and trusts him to protect you. He’s quite supportive of the relationship, acting as a mentor for the both of you. You can catch him watching the two of you with a tiny smile, murmuring something along the lines of, “Young love.” The two of you remind him of his own marriage with his late wife. It makes him sentimental in a way.

ruggie bucchi

A BIG 180 FROM JACK. Trein thinks this guy is sleazy. Ruggie couldn’t care less in the beginning, finding it funny to practically hang off your shoulder while Trein stared daggers into him. Then it started to seep in that it may or may not be important to get Trein’s approval for a long-term relationship with you. That’s when he gets his act together and completely starts sucking up to Trein. He’ll help out with paperwork, errands, cleaning up, etc! All for free! much to his dismay All Ruggie asks for in return is Trein’s support for your relationship. He catches Trein by surprise with how well his work ethic is. The lengths the hyena goes to for you ends up leaving the professor impressed.

leona kingscholar

Professor Trein is both surprised and disappointed. Now how did this happen? He didn't think Kingscholar was capable of being nice to anyone, let alone get into a whole relationship. Well, he bugs you to tell your boyfriend to start showing up to class. He’s not exactly happy with you dating a huge slacker like him, but Trein knows that Leona is a smart boy. Brash and not his first pick, sure, but he wouldn’t play with your heart or rope you into anything stupid. He trusts Kingscholar to protect you. But if he starts seeing you begin to skip class— which is going to happen, Leona’s going to make you do it at least once— he’ll pull YOU aside and give you an earful. Tough love, unfortunately.

floyd leech

Hell no. All the red blaring flags. Now why would you go and do that? Really? Out of EVERYONE? You bet your bottoms Trein is actively speaking out against your relationship every single time he sees you. He doesn't even want to try to talk to Floyd. Trein is convinced you are addicted to getting in trouble and lets out the biggest old man sigh. Is there any way Floyd can win the professor’s favor? Probably not. And if there was a way, would Floyd even do it? Big fat no. Floyd thinks it is hilarious that Professor Trein disapproves, upping his affections around him with that toothy grin of his. And if you guys have a class together that Trein teaches? Chaos. Expect a lot of paper balls to be thrown at you.

jade leech

“Are you okay??” Is the first thing Trein asks when you tell him you and Jade are in a relationship. Doesn't exactly trust the boy, but Jade tends to behave around him. The professor has always seen him being picture-perfect whenever he’s around which is 100% suspicious, but Trein doesn't have any solid reasons to disapprove. Jade, like his brother, finds the whole situation very amusing. He’s always figuring out new ways to appear like the ‘ideal boyfriend’ to Trein. If he ever talks to the professor he’ll slip in a comment like, “I never disappoint, trust me” and it makes Trein distrust him even more.

azul ashengrotto

Now what bet did you lose for this to have happened? At least Ashengrotto is a star student, you need to hang out around more of those in his opinion. After confirming that, “No, no bet was lost,” and “No, he’s not paying for my love,” Trein was pretty alright with it. The Monstro Lounge is a student-ran organization, it's clear from that the young boy is capable and responsible. He just keeps a very, very close eye on you two. The last thing Trein wants is for Azul to take advantage of you since— knowing him— he seems like the type to do so. Expect frequent questions of “How’s your relationship going?” and “He’s treating you right, right?” Azul is going to get asked to stay after class to talk. Trein then proceeds to threaten lecture him on how to properly treat your lover. He just wants to make sure you don't get wrapped up in one of those contracts he’s heard about. Azul has quite the track record.

kalim al asim

Automatically assumes you’re dating him for the money and begins to ramble about how you should marry for love. Tells you about his late wife and how much he loved her— it is so sweet I'm actually crying. That's the kind of love he wants you to have. You’ve got to reassure him that, “Yes, my certified father figure, I do love him very much and I’m not just in it for the money.” After that talk, he finds the relationship sweet but kind of concerning. Kalim is a nice boy but severely naive and, frankly, incompetent. Trein starts to go a little harder on Kalim in class, not that he was going easy anyway. He scrutinizes the essays he turns in and chastises him for missing an assignment. As he watches you kiss Kalim on the cheek after getting an A, Trein can only sigh and think, “He’s lucky he’s rich.”

jamil viper

Trein’s pretty okay with him. He’s a level-headed guy with passable grades and the title of a vice housewarden. However, the professor did hear about his Overblot and does think that there's more beneath the surface. He doesn't judge him for his Overblot, no. But Trein does keep a closer eye on him to make sure he isn't scheming anything involving you. The professor also tries to push him to do better academically. He’s heard from you about how smart Jamil truly is and can see his potential, so he tries to get him to stop holding back. Jamil is a little appreciative of it and respects Trein as your father figure, but still isn't a fan of sticking out. Nor does he plan on giving into Trein’s attempts.

epel felmier

Is fine with the relationship at first. He was polite, soft-spoken, and a part of Pomfiore. Most students belonging to that dorm are pompous, but respectful nonetheless. Then Epel’s true nature comes out and Trein is constantly reprimanding him for horseplay. It's kinda funny how surprised Trein is by Epel’s country toughness. The professor definitely had his suspicions— nobody at NRC is innocent, he’s learned every student here has some sort of dark side— but he definitely wouldn't have expected this. A part of Trein actually prefers him like this. You are dating someone with a backbone who will defend you. He encourages Epel to be himself around him, promising a judgment-free area. They get along pretty well surprisingly, with Trein being a sort of mentor to him. Overall, very sweet and Trein approves.

rook hunt

In the most blunt way possible, Trein tells you, “Your boyfriend weirds me out.” He thinks Rook is an oddball for sure. No way around it. Is half convinced Rook is stalking him. Because he is. When you explained to your boyfriend about the bond you had with Professor Trein, he got way too intrigued and ended up ‘watching’ Trein like he does to Leona. It's not until the professor makes a passing comment about being paranoid that he’s being watched that you realized, “Oh shit my boyfriends stalking you.” You don't say that to him— you don't want Rook getting in trouble. So you settle on having a really long talk with Rook about it who reassures you he’d never disturb your father figure or the absolutely beautiful bond between the two of you. He still worries you sometimes when he goes missing and randomly reappears by walking out of Trein’s classroom.

vil schoenheit

Trein worries that Vil won’t make the time for you. He’s aware that Schoenheit is a busy boy as he’s missed his class plentiful in the past. He’ll make Vil stay after class for a little to talk to him about it, giving him a fatherly warning about being ready to fully commit to a relationship and the time it takes to manage one. Vil is, admittedly, insulted that Trein doubts his ability to wholeheartedly love you but takes it in stride. He sees this as a sign to up his game in the romance department and properly does so, dedicating more time to pampering you. The professor expresses his concerns to his coworker, Crewel, who talks his ear off about how much of a “good pup” Vil is and that he won't disappoint. Trein can’t help but agree when he spots you walking into class looking more freshened with slight makeup on and a new hair-do that Vil definitely did for you.

idia shroud

Once you break the news to Trein, he immediately asks to meet with Idia one-on-one. The blue-haired student rarely shows up to class! And that iPad isn't going to cut it forever! He needs to be able to size him up in person. Idia, naturally, is scared to death. At first, he immediately declines, insisting that they don't really need to meet up, the whole idea is stupid, and it’ll be fine if he stays right there in his room. Then you sit down with him and tell him how important Trein is to you and… sigh You landed a natural 20 on the dice of persuasion. Idia can’t believe he's doing this. You’re beside him the whole time as he stutters in front of Trein. Is Trein impressed? No, not at all. Yet your confidence in the Shroud and constant praise is reassuring. The professor’s going to make you force Idia into showing up in person in class. His attendance rivals Leona's.

sebek zigvolt

Doesn't really care for Sebek despite the first year's desperate attempts at trying to impress him. Sebek lost him after he started talking about Malleus when Trein asked about you. Ever since then, it’s just been him trying to win him back to no prevail. Kinda sad to watch. He’ll be the biggest gentleman ever: rushing to doors to open them for Trein, scrubbing his whole classroom for him from top to bottom, and yelling at other students to be quiet— though he was pretty much doing that before you two even got together. But every time Sebek gets close to winning the professor’s favor, he ends up going on a tangent about how amazing his liege is, and we're back at square one. You’ve got to rub him on the back and kiss him on the cheek while telling him, “Trein will come around one day!” Even if that day never comes.

silver

Not a fan. He’s witnessed Silver fall asleep in his class one too many times and thinks it's disrespectful. Once you tell Silver, he’s upset as it's not exactly something he can change, but will put in extra effort not only in Trein’s class but in all his classes. He studies with you beside him so you can prevent him from falling asleep when you see him get all drowsy-eyed. Trein immediately takes note of Silver’s hard work and grit as the boy passes his class with flying colors while asking if there’s anything he could do to help him after hours. It's only when he hears from his fellow teachers that Silver has been doing exceptionally well is he actually impressed. Afterwards, Trein will start being more understanding of Silver’s constant sleeping. He won't be any less strict, but he won’t lay into him for it as hard as before since learning it's out of Silver’s control. Trein thinks rather positively of your relationship, comparing it to the ones in the fairytales.

lilia vanrouge

A bit disturbed, to say the least. Lilia is older than him after all. Trein tried to keep a close eye on the two of you, but Lilia always caught him and pursued a staring match. Trein was always the first to look away. Lilia finds it entertaining. He tries to play tiny tricks on the professor, but you stop him at the very last minute. You sit down and try to explain that you deeply care about Trein and, by extension, what Trein thinks of him. Lilia proceeded to suggest that he brings Trein some cookies to win him over to which you immediately say no. Honestly, I don’t see Trein really ever warming up to Lilia. He just pretends the old bat doesn't exist and isn't your boyfriend. Lilia finds that incredibly funny while you're dying inside.

malleus draconia

The fact you were able to get close to the Draconia is an impressive feat to Trein. However, future ruler of Briar Valley or not, he intends to make sure that Malleus treats you right. Right when you tell Malleus that Trein is basically your father, the fae goes straight to the professor, confesses to him about your relationship, and swears to take good care of you with this ominous tone. Trein isn’t very fond of Malleus at first, struggling to decipher whether or not that introduction was genuine. It isn't until you go to him after class, gushing about the late-night walk you went on with Malleus yesterday and shoving cute little polaroid photos in his face does Trein begin to trust the fae. He makes sure to scold you for not being asleep at that time, yes, but he stares at one of the photographs for way too long, imagining you and Malleus as him and his late wife for a moment. A small smile appears on his face. However, he can’t help but think that the two of you are down a similar path; the happiest marriage ever, kids, and one lover outliving the other. A tragedy, but he’ll let you enjoy it while it lasts just like he did. As long as you’re happy.

9K notes · View notes

lemon-koii · 8 months ago

Text

As a player, I LOVE Trey and Rook

As Yuu, I'd fall SO hard for Ace

Punching Riddle for insulting us, using his money to save us in Scarabia(along with Deuce), being so angry worried after getting back from STYX, 1st to proposed to Deuce that they should go back to Yuu after noticing they didn't look so well, and being the 1st one who was worried about us in Spectral Soiree and checking up on us in Ramshackles

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #trey clover #rook hunt #ace trapolla #ace trapolla x reader #twst x reader

2K notes · View notes

un-fwuit-un-fwog · 5 months ago

Text

The Prefect Was Here

Synopsis: The VDC boys notice the ways in which The Prefect has left their mark.

Something Ace notices during his time staying in Ramshackle is the various out of place chairs and boxes in different rooms of the dorm. He first realized they were there because he would trip over them or stub his toe on their corners. He'd move the objects out of the way to prevent himself from injuring himself on them again, but the next day they'd be back in their spots. This little cycle of him stumbling over the objects, moving them, and then stumbling over them again the next day repeated for a while until one late evening when the pieces clicked. Ace was leaving his room to get a glass of water from the kitchen when he looked over the railing of the stairs to see you stood atop one of the particularly annoying chairs placed in the lounge. A chair he trips over almost every morning in his half-awake state placed right next to the fireplace. Watching you organize various photo albums on a shelf above the mantle, he finally understood. He stopped moving the objects that no longer seemed out of place after that. They were right where they belonged: next to tall shelves, high up windows, and the occasional rickety door you had to open by shimmying it open from the top.

You often lent Deuce your notes to copy for those class periods he just couldn't keep his eyes open: exhausted from a long night of studying. At first he didn't notice anything, too busy frantically taking notes. It wasn't until he was staying in Ramshackle and he no longer had to worry about getting your notebook to you before day's end when you'd head off to your dorm and he to his that he saw it. As he was studying your notes he saw a little doodle on the edge of the page. The doodle was of Grim stirring a cauldron while standing on a stool, his goggles falling off his head. As he continued through your notes he saw ones of Epel carving an apple, Rook shooting a bow, and Vil looking studying rehearsal footage. Flipping back through the book and starting from the beginning he noticed the doodles seemed to be telling the story of your time at NRC. Early in the book, before there were notes on classes, there were doodles of the dark mirror, Crowley, and Grim. About the time you were officially enrolled there were drawings of the great 7, Ace with a smug look on his face, and even Deuce summoning a cauldron. He's asking to borrow your notes again? You could have sworn he was awake all class period (he just wants to see any new doodles).

Kalim noticed the walls, or more specifically: what was on them. It wasn't the boarded-up holes that drew his attention, nor was it the dust that you never could seem to get rid of completely. What got Kalim's attention were the drawings. In the kitchen, in your room, and on various doors there were drawings taped to the wood. Some were colorful while other were monochrome. Big, small, detailed, simple; he loved all of them! In your room you had an entire wall covered in pieces of your art, many of said pieces being of your friends and your various adventures. Your door was basically an extension of that wall just with a prominent sign in the middle reading 'Prefect and Grim.' Grim's name seemed to be written in his own handwriting (pawwriting?) and at the bottom of the sign laid a pawprint and a handprint. The other doors that had signs were rooms like the bathroom, laundry room, and the rooms each of the boys stayed in. The first few signs were put there by yourself to help the guys more easily navigate the sometimes-confusing building while the ones on each of their doors was to make them feel like they too belonged there. The kitchen had various drawings or little doodles your friends made for you. No matter how simple or detailed the drawing, you had every single thing anyone had drawn for your here displayed on the wall. All but Grim's art. He had his own pedestal (the fridge) for that. Kalim made sure to make his fair share of contributions to your display wall.

Jamil was in charge of the kitchen during the VDC and found some things rather unusual from the moment he stepped foot in there. Nearly all of your upper shelves were completely empty and when he pulled out a drawer he assumed would be a utensil drawer all he found was towels. That would be fine on its own, but none of the drawers had utensils. The upper cabinets that did have things in them held cleaning supplies, items that are commonly agreed to go below the sink. Just when he thought he was going to have to go back to Scarabia to get any kitchenware, he checked the lower cabinets. That's where he found pots, pans, cups, plates, and any other kitchen item you'd need all organized nicely as if they weren't in the most bizarre of places. Just as he was about to resign to silently judging you for your dishware placement, Grim came up beside him and opened one of the lower cabinets to grab a cup before scampering over to a step ladder placed next to the counter so he could reach the faucet and fill his cup with water. After seeing that he supposed your placement of things made sense. And after much time cooking in your kitchen as well as having to bend down to grab items he also realized that you must be even kinder than he originally thought (or just plain stupid, but he's keeping that thought to himself).

Vil is a man of beauty. He believes in not only you as a person looking your best at all times but also making sure your surrounding look their best. He understood most of Ramshackle's 'quirks' were unfixable as things were, and you did seem to keep the place remarkably clean all things considered, but there was something that caught his scrutinous eye. Clothes hung up to dry in the laundry room and bathroom (it was too cold to dry them outside) splattered in paint and a door that had matching patterns. At one point he grew curious as to what could possibly possess a person to leave a door in such a state and decided to open it. He almost fainted when he saw inside. The walls, ceiling, floor, and any furniture unlucky enough to be in the room was covered in layers of paint. The only thing that seemed to be kept clean was the window with a view of the forest beside the dorm. He left that day deciding that how you kept that room didn't affect him. As long as your mess didn't encroach into his space he would leave you to your mayhem. However, something odd began to happen. On a day Vil felt especially stressed, he went to do his laundry. When he closed the washer door and turned it on he looked up to see a row of paint splattered clothes hung up to dry, and before he knew it he was opening the door to what he assumed to be your art studio. He closed the door gently behind him and simply stood there in the room as the evening sun cast warm rays of light in through the window. It was as he stood there that he realized just how comforting the room's atmosphere was. It was hectic with all the paint everywhere and yet calming and homely at the same time. Now whenever he got too stressed during the VDC he went to that room to simply take a moment to breathe and forget about the stresses of being perfect. To look around at the remnants of pieces you put your heart and soul in splattered across the walls: telling a story only you know but that anyone who takes the time to observe can feel. Now, he may even see your paint splattered clothes and face to be rather endearing (not that he'll admit it).

Ever the hunter of Beauty, Rook notices a lot of ways in which you leave your mark on this world. The stickers on the covers of your notebooks, the patched sewn a bit sloppily onto your clothes, and even the spots on your front doorstep that have been ever so slightly worn down from scraping off mud and/or snow every time you come inside are all glorious examples of how you make the world more beautiful by being here. However, he does have a favorite. Out of every way you show that you've been here in this world, that you existed, his favorite by far is yours and Grim's height charts lightly scratched into the wall in a corner of the kitchen in a nook between the fridge and the wall. You wouldn't see it unless you really looked, but as we all know, he looks. Seemingly etched into the wall with a fork, butterknife, or something of the sort as not to be erased or easily covered up by paint are two separate sets of dashes. One is low to the floor while the other is about where the top of your head would be were you to stand with your back to the wall. Each chart has initials below the lowest mark and each dash has a date next to it. However, what really gets Rook's heart soaring is the initials and how after the letter of each of your first names there is an R. Now, Rook knows Grim doesn't have a last name and that you haven't uttered a word about what yours is (whether it be because you forgot or just simply don't want to tell people). Overwhelmed with curiosity he hunts down the ghosts to ask them the meaning of the R to which they tell him it stands for Ramshackle. You and Grim saw each other as family and so you decided to unofficially create a last name to share. When you were unable to agree on a good one you suggested Ramshackle so as to always remember your roots in this world. Rook won't encroach on the memory by asking to put a height chart of his own next to the two of yours, but you do notice that suddenly any official paperwork you or Grim gets has 'Ramshackle' after your first names.

What Epel notices are the big tape Xs in various places within the dorm. On the stairs, on the a spot in the hallway on the 2nd floor, there're even parts of the banister wrapped in blue tape. At some point he gets curious and prods at the banister only for it to sway and nearly fall off. This catches his attention so he goes through the dorm looking for places with tape on them to see if his hypothesis was correct, and, wouldn't ya know it, it was. All the places with tape are areas that could be considered hazardous for one reason or another. At first he wonders if you were just really dumb and put tape there to try and fix it, but when he sees you avoiding the areas too he decided that's not it. Then the idea comes up that perhaps they're there for an inspector that's going to come to fix up ramshackle, but it becomes apparent that's not the case when you come back one evening: exhausted from trying to convince Crowley to do something about the water damage in the attic only to be shut down. It isn't until he sees you yank Kalim back by the collar of his shirt as he was about to step on one of the Xs that he realizes you put them there to keep people safe. Epel tried pulling up a piece of tape at one pint in his inspection to get a better idea of what was underneath it and for the life of him he couldn't get it unstuck. At least he know for sure that it will stay there for generations to come acting as a kind reminder to anyone else who ventures into the dorm to avoid those areas and keep themselves safe.

Blog Navigation Page

TWST Masterlist

Request Information

3K notes · View notes

solxamber · 7 months ago

Text

Pick Us!

In which you have to choose a club and it looks like everyone wants a piece of you.

Part 2 (Choosing a club)

You were minding your own business, dodging Grim's increasingly creative ways to get you to buy premium tuna, when Crowley swept in with his usual dramatic flair.

“Ah, my dear pupil!” he exclaimed, arms wide like a bad community theater actor. “To better immerse yourself in school life, you must join a club. It’s mandatory!”

Before you could protest or ask any clarifying questions, he disappeared in a swirl of his cape, leaving you standing there with nothing but Grim’s unsympathetic shrug.

Naturally, this information traveled faster than you could process it, because the next thing you knew, Ace was practically dragging you by the arm across campus.

The Basketball Club

“Alright, listen,” Ace began, spinning a basketball on one finger and grinning like he just invented the sport. “You’re obviously joining the basketball club. It’s the best. I’m here, Floyd’s here, and even Jamil’s here, so really, it’s a no-brainer.”

“Is that supposed to sell it?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“Uh, yeah!” he said, tossing the ball toward you. It immediately bounced off your hands and hit the floor. Ace, undeterred, caught it mid-bounce and gave you a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ll teach you. I’m, like, super good at this. Just ask him!”

From across the gym, some poor guy—bless his heart—tried to nod in support, but you caught the nervous look he shot Ace instead.

“Okay, sure,” you said, “but isn’t this just an excuse for you to show off?”

“Maybe,” Ace said with zero shame, dribbling the ball dramatically before attempting a layup. The ball bounced off the rim and into Floyd’s waiting hands.

“Shrimpy!” Floyd called, tossing the ball behind his head without looking (and still somehow making the shot). “Join the club. It’ll be fuuuuun.”

You hesitated, because with Floyd, “fun” could mean literally anything. “Define fun,” you said cautiously.

“Simple! You, me, and Ace crushing people in games!” Floyd grinned, leaning closer to you. “And if anyone tries to mess with you, I’ll squish ‘em.”

Ace groaned. “Floyd, you can’t just threaten people into joining.”

“Why not?” Floyd asked, genuinely puzzled.

“Because it’s weird!”

“No, it’s effective,” Floyd countered, shooting you another toothy grin. “C’mon, Shrimpy, you’re already here. I’ll even let you call the plays. Or, you know, not. Whatever.”

“...You’re just bored, aren’t you?”

“Obviously,” Floyd admitted, leaning lazily against the wall. “But hey, if you join, I won’t let Ace hog the ball. Win-win, right?”

And then there was Jamil, who had been sitting silently on the sidelines, observing the chaos with his usual exasperated expression.

“Are they done?” he asked, finally standing and walking over to you.

“I don’t think so,” you replied, watching as Floyd tried to steal the ball from Ace mid-dribble.

Jamil sighed. “Typical.” He glanced at you, his tone cool and measured. “Ignore them. They’re just trying to drag you into their antics.”

“Antics?” Floyd repeated, offended.

“Yeah, Jamil,” Ace added, narrowing his eyes. “What’re you implying?”

“I’m implying you’re both terrible at convincing people,” Jamil said smoothly. He turned back to you. “If you’re interested in joining the club, you’ll actually get something out of it. Physical exercise, teamwork, strategy. And if you stick around, I’ll make sure you’re not stuck with them during practice.”

“Hey!” Ace protested.

Floyd just laughed. “Jamil’s still salty about the last scrimmage.”

“Hardly,” Jamil said, arching an eyebrow. “I’m just pointing out that if you want to learn how to actually play, you’d be better off with me.”

You blinked. “Are you… offering to train me?”

He shrugged, but there was a faint smirk on his face. “If it means saving you from their nonsense, yes.”

All you can do is sigh and say "I'll think about it"

Track and Field Club

You barely made it out of the basketball club’s gym alive when Deuce grabbed your wrist like his life depended on it. His expression was that unique combination of earnest and panicked—classic Deuce.

“Wait, don’t decide yet!” he said, already dragging you down the corridor. “You haven’t even seen the track and field club! You might like it better!”

“Deuce,” you began, trying to keep up without tripping. “I haven’t even—”

“Just come on!”

Before you knew it, you were standing on the edge of the outdoor track, blinking in the sunlight as Deuce shoved you forward like he was presenting a prize to a panel of judges. Jack, in the middle of sprint drills, stopped mid-stride to look over at you. His tail flicked once, and he jogged over with that intimidating mix of focus and curiosity he always had.

“You’re trying to recruit them?” Jack asked, crossing his arms.

Deuce nodded, puffing out his chest like he was making the ultimate sales pitch. “Yeah! Track and field’s way better than basketball. No offense to those guys.”

“I take offense,” you muttered, but neither of them heard.

“Plus,” Deuce continued, “we’ve got variety. Running, jumping, throwing—you can do anything. It’s not just bouncing a ball around, you know?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “It’s good for discipline. Builds strength, endurance, and focus. If you want to improve yourself, this is the place to do it.”

“Uh-huh,” you said, glancing at the track. “And what if I… don’t exactly have focus?”

“That’s fine!” Deuce said, grinning brightly. “We’ll help you! Right, Jack?”

Jack nodded. “Of course. We’ll start with basic drills.” He gave you a once-over, sizing you up. “How’s your stamina?”

“Define… stamina,” you said cautiously, because you had a feeling your answer wasn’t going to impress him.

Jack’s ears twitched, and he leaned slightly closer. “How far can you run without stopping?”

“Uh,” you began, nervously shifting your weight. “To the fridge?”

Jack blinked. “...You’re joking, right?”

Deuce coughed loudly, clapping a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about that! Everyone starts somewhere, right? Besides, they’re here because they want to try something new.”

You stared at Deuce. “I don’t remember saying that.”

“Exactly!” he continued, ignoring you entirely. “Think of how awesome it’d be to have us training you! We’ll get you in the best shape of your life. Right, Jack?”

Jack, who was still mildly horrified by your fridge comment, hesitated. “...Sure.”

Deuce, now fully in salesman mode, gestured to the track like it was some sort of holy land. “And you don’t have to worry about teamwork stuff! You can focus on your personal goals and—”

“Unless you’re in a relay,” Jack interjected.

“Right, but relays are cool!” Deuce added quickly. “Like… team spirit, you know?”

You glanced between the two of them, taking in Jack’s intensity and Deuce’s enthusiasm. They were both staring at you with a mix of hope and determination, and honestly, it was kind of endearing.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “If I join, do I get to skip the first practice?”

“No,” Jack said immediately.

Deuce grinned sheepishly. “But we’ll go easy on you!”

“Jack doesn’t look like he believes that.”

Jack tilted his head, his tail swishing once. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m not sure I’ll survive later,” you muttered.

Deuce ignored that, clapping his hands together. “Great! I knew you’d love it here! C’mon, let’s give them a quick demo, Jack!”

Before you could protest, the two of them took off around the track, moving at speeds that made you feel dizzy just watching. Deuce kept glancing back to grin at you, while Jack stayed focused, every stride perfect.

You stood there, bewildered and vaguely impressed, wondering if joining any club was a good idea at all. Still, as Deuce stumbled back toward you, sweaty but grinning like a puppy who just fetched a stick, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Think about it, okay?” he said, hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “We’d love to have you here.”

Jack jogged up beside him, barely winded. “You’ll fit in if you put in the effort.”

“Yeah,” Deuce agreed, nodding earnestly. “So… what do you think?”

You hesitated, glancing at the track, then at them. “…I’ll get back to you.”

Deuce grinned like that was a victory, and Jack just nodded approvingly. As they walked back to their drills, you realized you had yet another club to consider—and these two weren’t going to make it any easier.

Board Game Club

Before you could make your escape—or even fully process the events of the day—your wrist was suddenly seized by Ortho, who zoomed in out of nowhere like a missile with a purpose.

“There you are!” Ortho exclaimed with unsettling cheer. His grip was surprisingly firm for someone who probably didn’t even need to touch you to move you. “Big Brother’s been waiting! Come on!”

“Wait—what? Ortho, where are we—”

“No time for questions!” And just like that, he lifted you into the air like you were a deranged package and he was some kind of express courier. You barely had time to flail before he rocketed off, delivering you with precision to the board game club's headquarters.

You landed with an unceremonious thud, right in front of Idia, who nearly fell out of his chair.

“Ortho!” Idia hissed, his flaming hair flaring. “You can’t just abduct people like that!”

“But you said you wanted them to join!” Ortho chirped. “Mission accomplished!”

Azul, seated calmly at the head of the table, adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Well, well. A delivery service—how efficient. Welcome to the board game club.”

You were still processing the fact that you’d been airmailed when Idia slouched lower in his seat, muttering, “Ugh, so embarrassing. Ortho, seriously…”

“Uh,” you began, brushing yourself off. “Hi?”

Azul gestured grandly to the table in front of him, where an array of meticulously organized board games was displayed like they were ancient treasures. “Here, we focus on strategy, intellect, and the fine art of outwitting your opponent. Unlike other clubs,” he said with a pointed glance at the door, “this one doesn’t require you to break a sweat.”

“That’s actually kind of appealing,” you admitted, still wary.

Idia perked up slightly, his hair flickering a little brighter. “See? I told you it’s cool. I mean, if you like, uh, not running around like some NPC.”

Ortho leaned over, nodding enthusiastically. “And Big Brother’s really good at this stuff! He’s undefeated in our club tournaments!”

“That’s because you’re the only other member who’s not a liability!” Idia blurted, before realizing what he’d just said. “Uh—I mean—you’d totally, like, be an asset. Probably.”

Azul cleared his throat, clearly annoyed at being excluded from the compliment. “Allow me to demonstrate. Why don’t we have a quick match? You against Idia.”

“What?” Idia sat up straight, his hair sparking nervously. “No way! That’s not fair—I can’t just—”

Azul gave him a smile sharp enough to cut glass. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of losing, Idia.”

Idia’s face turned pink. “Fine,” he grumbled, setting up the board. “But don’t blame me if I crush them.”

You sat down reluctantly, realizing too late that this was probably a trap. Idia’s fingers moved at lightning speed as he set up his pieces, muttering calculations under his breath. Ortho leaned over your shoulder, giving you completely useless advice like, “Just believe in yourself!”

To your surprise, you managed to hold your own for the first few turns. Idia glanced up at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were reevaluating your existence.

“Huh,” he murmured. “Not bad. For a newbie.”

“Is that a compliment?” you asked, moving your piece cautiously.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” he said quickly, his face turning red again.

Azul chuckled from his spot at the table. “See? A game of wits and strategy. Isn’t this far superior to running laps or throwing balls into hoops?”

“Hey!” you said, pointing your game piece at him. “Don’t diss the other clubs. They’re passionate too!”

Azul raised an eyebrow. “Passion doesn’t win battles. Strategy does.”

The game dragged on, and by the end of it, you were completely out of your depth. Idia, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped out of an anime boss fight, his hair flaring dramatically as he made his final move.

“Checkmate,” he said, grinning slightly.

“Wrong game, Big Brother,” Ortho corrected.

“Whatever!” Idia snapped, but he didn’t look too upset. “It’s over, okay?”

Azul leaned forward, smirking again. “So, what do you think? Ready to join?”

You leaned back in your chair, your brain fried from trying to keep up. “I… I need to think about it.”

Ortho beamed. “That means they’re considering it! Success!”

Idia muttered something under his breath about “too much pressure” and “why is this so stressful,” but you caught a tiny flicker of a smile as he fiddled with one of the game pieces.

Azul, ever the businessman, handed you a brochure as you left. “Take your time. But remember—intellect always wins.”

You left the board game club feeling like you’d just survived a high-stakes negotiation. And as Ortho cheerfully waved goodbye, you couldn’t help but wonder if all the clubs were this intense.

Film Studies Club

You were rounding a corner, still recovering from your latest club recruitment ambush, when a perfectly manicured hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

Before you could even yelp, you found yourself being gracefully pulled into the Film Studies Clubroom by none other than Vil Schoenheit. His strides were purposeful, his posture impeccable, and his expression…well, let’s just say it was the definition of I’m doing you a favor, peasant.

“Vil?” you sputtered, barely managing to keep up. “What are you—”

“I need to vet you,” Vil said simply, his voice calm but leaving no room for argument. “The Film Studies Club could use some fresh blood, and you look… adequate.”

“Adequate?” you echoed, mildly offended but too intrigued to argue further.

He led you to the center of the room, gesturing for you to stand under a perfectly angled spotlight. “Don’t misunderstand,” Vil continued, crossing his arms and regarding you with a critical eye. “I’m merely evaluating your potential. Our club requires both talent and diligence—qualities that, if I’m being honest, are rare in this school.”

“Uh, thanks?”

Vil ignored you, pulling out a script and flipping through it like he was deciding your fate. “If you can’t pass the audition, you can still join as a backstage hand,” he said airily. “We’re short on those too.”

“Wow, what an inspiring pitch,” you muttered, but Vil’s sharp gaze silenced you immediately.

“Read this,” he instructed, handing you the script and gesturing for you to begin.

You hesitated, glancing at the lines. “You’re serious? Right now?”

“Do I look like someone who jokes about art?” Vil asked, raising a perfectly sculpted brow.

Point taken.

Clearing your throat, you started reading, trying to put some effort into it. Vil watched you intently, his expression inscrutable. He occasionally tilted his head, as if mentally dissecting every word you spoke, every movement you made.

When you finished, you looked at him expectantly, waiting for his verdict.

Vil tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You’re not hopeless,” he said finally, in a tone that made it sound like a compliment. “Rough around the edges, yes, but I’ve seen worse.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said dryly.

“Don’t be smug. You’ll need work,” Vil continued, ignoring your tone. “But I suppose you have potential.”

“And if I didn’t?”

Vil gave a delicate shrug, his expression cool. “Then you’d still be useful behind the scenes. But consider this your opportunity to elevate yourself. Being part of my club means striving for excellence—no exceptions.”

You couldn’t help but smirk. “Is this really about me, or are you just desperate for members?”

Vil’s eyes narrowed, but there was a flicker of amusement there. “Desperation has nothing to do with it. I’m simply ensuring that my club remains unparalleled. If you happen to benefit from my guidance, so be it.”

“Well, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I'll think about it.”

Vil’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles. “Smart choice. Now, don’t make me regret it.”

With that, he turned on his heel, leaving you standing there wondering what exactly you’d just signed up for—and if Vil’s idea of “elevating yourself” involved a complete personality overhaul.

Science Club

You barely had time to process Vil's dramatic exit when a familiar voice whispered theatrically, “Ah, my muse! Fate conspires to bring us together!”

Before you could react, Rook Hunt appeared—swooped, really—out of nowhere and expertly whisked you away from the Film Studies Clubroom. It was less like being led and more like being caught mid-flight by an overly enthusiastic bird of prey.

“Rook?!” you yelped as he practically danced you down the hallway. “What is happening?”

“Mon ami,” he declared, his eyes glittering with fervor, “you must see the science club! A world of wonder awaits you!”

“Wait—science?” you echoed, incredulous. “You’re in the science club?”

“Ah, oui! Science is but another stage upon which the beauty of nature and humanity performs its eternal dance! The experiments! The cultivation of life! The creation of culinary masterpieces! All expressions of art, no?”

You weren’t sure if he was describing scientific principles or poetry, but before you could argue, Rook had dragged you into the science clubroom.

The room was a chaotic mix of activities. One corner housed a vibrant garden under grow lights, another had chemistry equipment bubbling away ominously, and a third corner smelled suspiciously like freshly baked bread. Trey Clover stood near a counter, pulling cookies out of an oven as if this were the most normal thing to happen in a science lab.

“Ah, there you are,” Trey greeted, smiling warmly. “Rook said he’d bring someone by. I’m guessing you’re deciding on a club?”

You glanced between Rook, who was already gesturing dramatically at a rack of test tubes, and Trey, who held up a tray of cookies like a peace offering. “I… guess I am?”

“Bien sûr!” Rook exclaimed, sweeping an arm toward the greenery in the corner. “Behold! We grow life itself here! Tomatoes, basil, flowers—anything your heart desires!”

Trey added, “We also bake and cook as part of our activities. It’s a great way to learn about chemistry and make something useful at the same time.”

“And explosions!” Rook chimed in enthusiastically. “Occasionally, there are explosions.”

Trey shot him a look. “Not… intentionally.”

Rook turned back to you, his expression radiant. “Think of the possibilities, mon ami! With science, you can cultivate beauty, create masterpieces, and perhaps even unlock secrets of the universe! And, of course, I am here to guide you—to nurture the artistic soul that dwells within!”

“Also,” Trey added, far more pragmatically, “we’re not picky about what activities you want to try. It’s a flexible club, so you could do a little bit of everything.”

You considered this as Trey handed you a cookie. It was warm and delicious, which admittedly swayed your opinion a little.

“Hmm,” you said thoughtfully, “so I could garden, bake, and blow things up all in one club?”

“Exactly!” Trey said with a smile.

Rook leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. “And think, mon cher—if you hone your talents here, you could support Vil in creating the cinematic beauty he so envisions! Science and art, united in harmony!”

You blinked. “Wait, are you trying to recruit me for this club and help Vil at the same time?”

Rook grinned. “Nature does not limit itself to one purpose, mon ami, and neither do I.”

Trey sighed but didn’t deny it.

“Well, this is definitely… something,” you said, nibbling on the cookie. “I’ll think about it.”

“Ah, a maybe!” Rook clasped his hands together like you’d just promised him your soul. “A victory in itself!”

Before you could say anything else, Rook twirled you toward the door, clearly ready to drag you to your next destination—or possibly just keep talking about “the poetry of chlorophyll” until you gave in.

Pop Music Club

Just as you were beginning to suspect Rook was about to wax poetic about “the lyrical mysteries of yeast fermentation,” a sudden voice interrupted.

“Oh-ho, what’s this?”

Before you could even react, Lilia Vanrouge materialized out of thin air, practically glowing with chaotic energy. “Ah, my dear friend! You’re far too bright a star to waste away on science experiments! Come with me—pop stardom awaits!”

You blinked. “Wait, what?”

And just like that, you were swept up in Lilia’s whirlwind. He dragged you down the hallway with a skip in his step and a mischievous laugh, leaving Rook and Trey in his dust.

“Lilia, I can walk, you know!” you said, stumbling to keep up.

“But where’s the drama in that?” Lilia replied, cackling as he pushed open the doors to the Pop Music Clubroom.

Inside, the room was a cacophony of sound and color. Disco lights spun, a half-finished banner reading ‘Next Big Thing!’ hung lopsidedly on the wall, and Kalim was gleefully banging away on a drum like it owed him money. Cater sat cross-legged on the floor, scrolling through his phone and periodically snapping selfies with sparkly filters.

“Oh, hey!” Kalim greeted you, waving so enthusiastically he almost hit himself with the drum stick. “You’re here to join us, right? This club is the best! We have music, dancing, and it’s all just super fun!”

Cater glanced up from his phone, his grin wide and just a little too calculated. “You’d fit right in! Think of all the magicam-worthy moments we could create together. Plus, the followers you’d get? Off the charts.”

“Followers?” you echoed, glancing at Lilia.

“Ah, but of course!” Lilia said, flinging his arms wide as if presenting you to an adoring crowd. “The Pop Music Club isn’t just about music—it’s about presence! Charisma! The ability to captivate a room with a single note or a dazzling smile!”

“It’s also about having a good time!” Kalim added, spinning in a circle for no reason other than sheer joy.

Cater nodded, holding up his phone. “And don’t forget—every moment is a potential viral video. You, me, Lilia, and Kalim as the dream team? We’d own the algorithm.”

You hesitated. “Uh, I don’t even play an instrument.”

“Neither does he!” Lilia said brightly, pointing at some unfortunate bystander.

“Hey!” he protested. “I play the Kalimba!” He promptly tried to play a note, missed the rhythm entirely, and Lilia laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

“See?” Lilia said, unfazed. “Talent is optional here. All we need is your spirit!”

Cater stood, brushing imaginary dust off his pants. “We also dabble in choreography, so if you’ve got two left feet, don’t worry—we’ll teach you how to make them look intentional.”

“Come on, join us!” Kalim said, grabbing your hands and bouncing up and down like an overexcited puppy. “We could totally use your energy!”

“What energy?” you asked, deadpan. “I’ve been dragged between clubs all day—I barely have any left.”

“Exactly!” Lilia said with a wink. “We’ll channel what’s left into a glorious crescendo of pop music excellence!”

You weren’t sure whether to laugh, cry, or just surrender entirely to the chaos. Lilia’s grin was practically infectious, Kalim’s enthusiasm radiated like the sun, and Cater was already adjusting the angle of his phone to catch you in the best light.

“Well,” you muttered, “at least it sounds… lively.”

“Lively is an understatement,” Cater said, snapping a selfie with you and Lilia in the background. “Hashtag PopStarsInTheMaking! You’re gonna love it here.”

“Let me guess,” you said dryly. “You’re already planning to upload that, aren’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Cater said with a wink.

Lilia clapped his hands, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “So, what do you say? Ready to unleash your inner star?”

“I… will think about it,” you replied, edging toward the door.

“Think fast!” Kalim called after you. “The bass is calling your name!”

You bolted before anyone could shove an instrument into your hands.

Equestrian Club

As you hurried down the hallway, still reeling from the pop music chaos you'd just escaped, you nearly collided with a flash of red.

"Ah, there you are!"

You blinked up at none other than Riddle Rosehearts, who looked as though he'd been scouring the entire school for you. His eyes narrowed, and his voice carried a tone of stern authority mixed with subtle relief.

"I've been looking for you," Riddle said, crossing his arms. "Ace and Deuce mentioned that you’re considering which club to join. As housewarden, it’s my responsibility to ensure you make a proper choice."

You blinked, still processing. "Oh, uh… thanks?"

"Enough dilly-dallying," Riddle said briskly, taking your wrist with surprising firmness. "You're coming with me to the Equestrian Club."

"Wait, what—"

Before you could finish, Riddle had already begun marching you toward the stables. You were half-dragged, half-guided, catching snippets of his lecture along the way about the merits of horseback riding, discipline, and poise.

When you arrived, the warm scent of hay filled the air, and the sound of soft nickering greeted you. The stables were pristine, the horses sleek and well-groomed. Standing nearby were Silver and Sebek, both tending to the horses.

"Riddle, you found them" Silver greeted you with his usual calm demeanor. He gave you a faint smile as he gently brushed a dappled gray mare. "Perfect timing—we were just about to go for a ride."

Sebek, on the other hand, straightened like a soldier at attention, his voice booming. "THEY WILL JOIN US, OF COURSE! IT IS ONLY FITTING FOR AN INDIVIDUAL OF WORTH TO EMBRACE SUCH A NOBLE ART!"

"Sebek, indoor voice," Riddle said sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I AM OUTDOORS!" Sebek retorted, though he did lower his volume slightly.

You glanced nervously at the horses. "Uh, I don’t know if I’m… horse material."

"Nonsense," Riddle said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Riding teaches discipline, focus, and responsibility. It’s the perfect club for fostering growth—and for avoiding unnecessary distractions like some less dignified clubs."

"Pop Music Club?" you guessed.

Riddle sniffed, his expression sour. "Among others."

Silver walked over, still holding the brush, and gave you a reassuring nod. "Don’t worry. The horses are gentle, and we can teach you everything. It’s a peaceful activity once you get used to it."

"Peaceful!" Sebek exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. "It is a pursuit befitting the greatest warriors! EVEN LORD MALLEUS—"

"Sebek," Riddle interrupted, his patience clearly wearing thin. "Focus on the matter at hand."

"Apologies!" Sebek barked, saluting.

Riddle turned back to you, his expression softening just a fraction. "The Equestrian Club isn’t just about riding horses. It’s about elegance, partnership, and understanding. You could benefit greatly from it."

"And the horses are great listeners," Silver added.

"Unlike some humans," Sebek muttered under his breath.

You bit back a laugh as Riddle gave Sebek another glare.

"What do you say?" Riddle asked, stepping aside to let you see one of the horses—a chestnut with a kind, inquisitive gaze. "This is Vorpal. Perhaps a ride would convince you?"

The horse whinnied softly, and for a moment, you considered it. There was something appealing about the tranquility of the stables, the camaraderie of the club members, and the undeniable charm of working with such majestic creatures.

But then you remembered the drum chaos, the science experiments, and Vil’s dramatic vetting process.

"Let me, uh… think about it?" you said, taking a step back.

Riddle sighed, though he looked more exasperated than disappointed. "Very well. But don’t wait too long—indecision is unbecoming."

"Yeah," you mumbled. "Got it."

As you made your escape, you could hear Sebek booming, "RIDING A HORSE WILL CHANGE YOUR LIFE!"

You weren’t sure about that, but you were certain that escaping club recruitment was starting to feel like an Olympic sport.

Magift Club

As you staggered away from the stables, thoroughly frazzled by Sebek’s enthusiastic yelling and Riddle’s intense lecture on discipline, you barely had time to catch your breath before—

“Yo, gotcha!”

A pair of hands grabbed your shoulders from behind, and you let out a very undignified yelp. You turned to find Ruggie grinning up at you like a mischievous hyena that had just found its next meal.

“Ruggie! What—?”

“No time for questions, boss,” he said, practically dragging you down the path. “Leona’s orders. He told me to bring ya to the Magift Club.”

“The Magift Club?” you repeated, already sensing disaster.

Ruggie nodded, smirking. “Yup. Let’s go, let’s go!”

“But—wait—I don’t even have magic!” you protested as he hauled you toward the field.

“Details, details,” Ruggie waved off, his grip on your arm firm.

Soon enough, you were dumped unceremoniously on the sidelines of the Magift field. Leona was lounging on the grass under the shade of a tree, looking entirely too comfortable for someone allegedly trying to recruit you. Epel was nearby, aggressively practicing his throws while muttering something that sounded suspiciously like “I’ll show ‘em.”

Leona cracked one eye open lazily as Ruggie dropped you off. “’Bout time,” he drawled.

“Leona,” you said flatly, “why would you want me in the Magift Club? I don't even have magic.”

He yawned, looking entirely unbothered. “Yeah, I know that. You’re still better than the other herbivores running around. You can be the manager.”

“Manager?”

“Yup,” Ruggie chimed in, plopping down next to Leona. “You’d handle all the boring stuff—paperwork, schedules, snacks, makin’ sure Epel doesn’t throw a fit when he gets tackled.”

“I don’t throw fits!” Epel yelled, narrowly missing a hoop with his throw.

Leona smirked. “Sure you don’t.”

You crossed your arms, unconvinced. “Why me, though? You’re telling me I’m the best candidate for this?”

Leona sat up slightly, his sharp eyes locking on yours. “I’m sayin’ you’re the least annoying option. I don’t need some herbivore manager who’s gonna cry every time I take a nap instead of practicing. You’re not useless, so quit whining.”

Ruggie leaned in conspiratorially. “Basically, you’re the only one Leona doesn’t feel like chasing off the field after two days.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a ringing endorsement.”

Leona shrugged. “Take it or leave it. Makes no difference to me.”

At that moment, Epel ran up, panting slightly from his practice. “C’mon, you should join us!” he urged. “You don’t need magic to be part of the team. And if you ever wanna learn some tricks, I can teach ya!”

Leona gave him a lazy side-eye. “Don’t scare them off.”

“I’m not scarin’ ‘em! I’m convincin’ ‘em!” Epel shot back, glaring at Leona before turning back to you. “Seriously, we could use someone like you. The club’s fun, I promise!”

Ruggie snickered. “Fun’s a stretch. It’s more like… survival of the fittest with a ball involved.”

“And napping,” Leona added with a smirk.

Epel crossed his arms. “Well, maybe if someone practiced instead of nappin’, we’d win more games!”

Leona waved him off with a scoff.

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I don’t know, guys. This sounds like a lot of chaos.”

“Chaos is half the fun,” Ruggie said with a grin. “C’mon, boss, think of all the free food we get during games. And you’d get to boss Leona around as the manager. Ain’t that worth it?”

Leona snorted. “Good luck with that.”

You glanced at the trio—Epel brimming with determination, Ruggie radiating mischief, and Leona looking like he didn’t care but also somehow cared just enough to try. It was… weirdly tempting, in its own way.

“I’ll… think about it,” you said finally.

“Fair enough,” Leona said, already reclining again. “Don’t take too long, though. We’ve got a game next week, and I’m not filling out paperwork.”

Ruggie winked. “Don’t worry, you’ll come around. Everyone does.”

As you left the field, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just been almost recruited into something much more taxing than a simple club.

Mountain Lovers Club

Before you could escape the Magift field and all its potential paperwork, you took a sharp turn—only to smack right into what felt like a wall of polite menace. A soft, knowing chuckle sounded above you.

“Oh dear, do be careful,” came Jade Leech’s unmistakably smooth voice.

You took a step back, already dreading the conversation. “Jade,” you said warily, “what are you doing here?”

His sharp smile grew ever so slightly. “Waiting for you, of course. Word travels fast, and I’ve heard you’re in the market for a club.”

“Oh no,” you muttered. “You’re not here to—”

Before you could finish, he was already guiding you away, his hand light on your arm but unyielding, like a vice hidden under a silk glove.

“Come now,” he said, his tone as polite as ever, “I simply must show you the Mountain Lovers Club.”

“The what now?” you asked, bewildered.

“The Mountain Lovers Club,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“And… who else is in this club?”

“Why, just me.”

You stopped in your tracks. “It’s just you?”

“Yes.” Jade smiled serenely, as if this were not a glaring red flag. “I am the founder, leader, and sole member. But with your arrival, that could very well change.”

You blinked at him, unsure if you’d misheard. “Wait, so you’ve been running a one-person club this whole time?”

“Indeed.” His expression didn’t falter in the slightest. “The Mountain Lovers Club is dedicated to the appreciation of all things mountainous. Hiking through beautiful terrain, foraging for wild plants, observing unique ecosystems, and—on occasion—befriending the local fauna.”

“Befriending?”

“Examining, petting, observing closely…” His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps all three.”

You shook your head, trying to process. “So… why me?”

Jade clasped his hands together, the picture of poised enthusiasm. “You strike me as someone who appreciates unique experiences. The Mountain Lovers Club offers a chance to explore the great outdoors, expand your horizons, and develop a deeper appreciation for nature’s wonders.”

“And by ‘great outdoors,’ you mean mountains?”

“Precisely.”

“And it’s just you?”

“For now,” he said, his tone warm but his gaze uncomfortably intense. “But every great journey begins with a single step. Yours could be joining this club.”

You gave a nervous laugh. “Uh… I don’t think hiking through mountains is really my thing.”

“Ah, but how do you know unless you try?” Jade’s smile widened. “Besides, I’ll be there to guide you every step of the way. No need to worry about getting lost… or encountering anything unexpected.”

The way he said “unexpected” made you want to run for the hills (ironic, given the circumstances).

“Look, I appreciate the offer, but—”

“I insist,” he cut in smoothly, his tone polite but with a note of finality. “At least allow me to show you the club’s activities. Perhaps a short hike this weekend? I’ve already prepared a route.”

You stared at him. “You’ve already…?”

“Of course.” His gaze was calm, calculating. “Preparation is key. I’ve even packed a lunch.”

You didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “Jade, I—”

He tilted his head, his smile remaining perfectly composed. “Surely you wouldn’t refuse without at least giving it a chance? I’ve put so much thought into this.”

“Why do I feel like I don’t have a choice?” you muttered.

Jade’s smile was razor-sharp and utterly unrepentant. “Because you don’t.”

You sighed in defeat. “Fine. One hike.”

“Excellent,” he said, his tone soft and victorious. “I’ll see you this Saturday at dawn.”

“Dawn?!”

“Oh yes,” he said, his eyes gleaming with enthusiasm. “The mountains are at their most beautiful in the early morning light. You’ll love it.”

As he sauntered away, leaving you to process your fate, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you’d just agreed to something far more treacherous than a simple hike.

Gargoyle Research Society

The moment you finally reached Ramshackle Dorm, exhausted from the whirlwind of club-hopping and increasingly bizarre sales pitches, you let out a long sigh of relief. The day had been nothing short of chaotic, and all you wanted was to collapse onto your creaky old bed and forget the words “club activities” ever existed.

But just as your hand touched the doorknob, a familiar voice, deep and regal, called out from the shadows.

“Child of man.”

You jumped slightly, spinning around to see none other than Malleus Draconia emerging from beneath the pale light of the moon, his presence as imposing and enigmatic as always. He stood by one of Ramshackle’s crumbling stone walls, his expression calm but his eyes bright with an unreadable intensity.

“Oh, Malleus,” you said, your voice tinged with weariness but also a touch of warmth. “Didn’t see you there.”

He tilted his head ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving yours. “I was merely admiring the architecture of your dorm. It has a certain… wistful charm.”

You smiled faintly. “I guess that’s one way to put it.”

Then, with the sort of graceful confidence only Malleus could manage, he stepped closer, his presence looming but never threatening. “I have heard,” he began, his tone soft and deliberate, “that you have been seeking a club to join.”

You blinked at him, caught off guard. “How did you—”

“The winds carry whispers,” he said cryptically.

“Right,” you muttered, deciding not to question it.

Malleus folded his hands neatly in front of him, looking every bit the picture of regal sincerity. “If you have not yet made your decision… I would like to invite you to join my club.”

Your brain, still reeling from Jade’s mountain escapades and Leona’s managerial demands, stalled for a moment. “Your… club?”

“Yes,” he said, his voice brimming with quiet pride. “The Gargoyle Research Society.”

“The… what now?”

“The Gargoyle Research Society,” he repeated, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I am both its founder and sole member.”

Of course, he was.

Malleus seemed oblivious to your stunned silence as he continued, his expression softening into something almost earnest. “The society is dedicated to the appreciation and study of gargoyles. We explore the campus, observing their intricate designs and marveling at their history. There is so much beauty in their silent watch over us.”

You blinked. “So… you just walk around and look at gargoyles?”

“Precisely,” he said, his tone unironically enthusiastic.

“And… that’s it?”

Malleus nodded solemnly. “Indeed. It is a noble pursuit, one that nurtures both the mind and the spirit.”

For a moment, you were at a loss for words. Of all the clubs you’d encountered today, this might just take the crown for most niche.

Malleus, however, seemed utterly earnest. His eyes bore into yours, his expression sincere and unguarded. “I understand if this does not align with your current interests,” he said, his voice softening. “But should you ever feel the call of the gargoyles… know that you are always welcome.”

There was something so genuine in his tone, so quietly hopeful, that you felt a pang of guilt for even thinking about brushing him off. You sighed, offering him a tired but sincere smile. “You know what? I’ll definitely consider it.”

Malleus’s eyes lit up, his calm demeanor giving way to a flicker of pure joy. “Truly?”

“Truly,” you said, nodding.

“Then I shall look forward to the day you join me,” he said, his voice as soft as a promise.

With that, he gave you a small, graceful bow before disappearing back into the night, leaving you to wonder how you’d managed to end the day not only agreeing to a potential club but also feeling oddly flattered by the idea of studying gargoyles.

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “What a day…”

Masterlist

Part 2: Choosing a club

a/n: it completely slipped my mind that ortho is in film studies sorry :(

5K notes · View notes

itsmywritingtime · 3 months ago

Text

.. 【 A Fierce Competitor 】 ..

Notes: love triangle (love angle), ace trappola x reader, malleus Draconia x reader, jealously, love rivals, reader is yuu, gender neutral reader, very minor spoilers for book 5 and 6 ♥ vs ⚡︎ Words: 2.5k

Ace had never expected to fall for the magicless janitor he teased on the first day of class. More importantly, he never would have anticipated how persistent you would be. No matter what he did or what he got himself into, you would be right there beside him.

He couldn’t exactly pinpoint when he had fallen for you. Maybe it was when him and Deuce were bickering after fleeing from the abandoned mine. You had quickly set the two of them straight, yelling at them to get their act together and cooperate. Having that fierce look in your eyes he hadn’t expected from someone like you.

Perhaps it was when he had eaten that tart and been collared by Riddle and you allowed him to stay at Ramshackle after only knowing him a day.

Or perhaps it was when you had signed that one-sides contract with Azul for the sake of your friends. Consequences be damned.

Or perhaps…

You get the point. He could recall a handful of stories in which he had seen you as more than just the Prefect. More than just his friend.

Ace had never been one to chase after something he wants. Why try so hard when you can make it come to you, hm? However, he had been having a bit of a problem. No matter what he did, he was always the pursuer not the persuadee.

You, the Prefect of Ramshackle dorm were smart, quick thinking, agreeable, and most importantly, majorly oblivious.

You couldn't take a hint. From him awkwardly casually bringing up that he was into someone —"You like someone? Really??" — to flat out asking you to go out with you — "Oh you wanna go out? We should invite everyone. It'll be fun!", — you just couldn't grasp anything he was laying down.

As annoying as that was, he wouldn't typically have any reason to worry. He would just have to put in a little more effort. Nothing, he, Ace Trappola, couldn't handle. However, there was a major roadblock in the form of the housewarden of Diasomnia.

Malleus Draconia.

Ace hadn't put that much thought into the curious night visitor you had offhandedly mentioned a few months back, he had been too occupied with the ongoing investigation into the confusing injuries with the up and coming spelldrive tournament. Now, he was kicking himself at his carelessness. At the time, he hadn't even been acknowledged his own feelings for you!

Ace had almost felt his heart almost stop (for multiple reasons) when Malleus appeared after Vil's overblot and you revealed that he was your midnight guest.

When everything has settled down—a dangerous thought had crossed his mind.

—No, no, no. Everything was still okay, he had rationalized. Nothing would change.

Just because the two of you hung out every so often didn't mean anything, right?

♥

It had been a typical study session run late. After a few minutes of you clumsily bargaining with Riddle over the phone, both him and Deuce had been allowed to stay the night at Ramshackle. An impromptu sleep over.

Ace had fallen asleep quickly, exhausted from the amount of material he had been forced to memorize in such a short amount of time.

He had awoken at an unknown hour, his throat burning with a lack of moisture. He stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. While Ramschakle had been renovated, it had been a collective choice to still not trust the pipes and stick to bottled water.

The lid was twisted off with little resistance and Ace poured the cool liquid into his mouth. Sighing in relief as a wave of chill washed over him.

As he chugged the water, his eyes wandered over to the window that overlooked the front lawn. He really hadn't expected to see anything besides maybe a wandering ghost or the swaying of trees.

However, small flashes of green caught his eye. What? He took a few steps closer to the window to get a better look.

Were those...fireflies? Ace swore that they didn't come out during the spring time.

Now that he was really looking, he noticed that there were two figures on the front lawn, by the metal gated entrance of Ramshackle.

His hand squeezed around the bottle as he connect the dots.

Ramshackle → Late at night → Two people outside → fireflies → fireflies don’t come out during spring + green magic → …MIDNIGHT VISTOR!!

*Ding! Ding! Ding!*

Water rushed from the bottle, and down his throat from his tight grip. He rushed over to the sink and coughed up any water that clogged his throat, his eyes not leaving the scene in the front lawn for a moment.

He regain his composure just as the two figures reached close enough to be illuminated by the lamppost. He was not surprised to see you and Malleus. You were smiling, animatedly discussing something he couldn’t make out through the thick walls. Damn these renovations!

Malleus looked down at you, following every word with a similar smile on his lips.

An uncomfortable feeling festered in Ace chest the longer he took in the two of you.

Malleus had a strange look in his eye as he stared at you. A fondness and appreciation that was almost familiar to Ace.

It hit Ace like a tidal wave when he realized where he had seen that look. It was the same expression he saw in the mirror every morning. The same expression he saw in the photos you took together. Where, unbeknownst to you, his eyes would linger longer than what was deemed appropriate.

Your conservation came to a standstill and you made your way towards the front door before suddenly pausing. Ace’s heart almost leapt up into his throat as you turned back to Malleus.

You gave a quick wave goodbye before turning back around and resuming towards the door.

Ace sighed in relief. He had thought you were going to invite the housewarden in. But then it hit him. What would he have done then? What could he have done?

As you entered Ramshackle, he quickly patted up the stairs, attempting to convince himself that he hadn’t confirmed what he had feared.

Malleus eyes had never left you.

Oh boy. He was in deep shit, wasn’t he?

Malleus knew less about romantic love than he did friendship. It had been the last thing on his mind when you and him became companions.

You were a breath of fresh air. You knew nothing about who he was, his name, his face, his strength. Even with such little info, you still welcomed him with open arms. It was unfamiliar. Not being feared.

It was only after you had given him tickets to the VDC did he realize that he felt something peculiar about you. A feeling that he had never endured before.

It took a lengthy conversation with Lilia for him to realize that what he felt for you was much deeper than friends.

A likeness.

Perhaps love.

Fae did not fall in love easily. Especially fae that carried royal blood through their veins. Once he yielded to his feelings, the courtship began.

Malleus was used to having what he wanted at his fingertips whether from his immense magical prowess or his position as the crown prince. You provided a challenge, yet, it wasn’t unwelcome. He knew you were different the moment he met you.

He attempted to reach out to you during the school day, now that you knew his identity, with the intention of inviting you out and living the “average” school life. There was no reason your interactions to be contained to nocturnal outings only.

However, there was a problem.

Unlike him, you were quite popular. There always seemed to be someone by your side. Normally, that wouldn’t bother him, but you had always looked so happy and he would rather stand to the side and be alone than potentially take that away from you. No matter how badly he yearned to know the cause of your glee.

He could be patient and wait. Wait from the right moment. Fae has an abundance of time on their hands, after all.

Still, there was something else that bothered him. The ones that most commonly made your company was a group of freshmen.

It made sense, he rationalized. You technically were a freshmen too. Nevertheless, something felt…off.

It hadn’t taken him long to realize. The occasional brushing of hands. A silent, but desperate plea for your attention, to tightly grip onto it. Holding onto every word as if it was sacred….

Oh.

Alright then.

His rival had taken an unusual face. A freshmen of Heartslabyul dorm, Ace Trappola. Malleus knew little to nothing about the first-year besides the fact that he was always around you.

But that closeness that had been building up over the months. The constant smiles you shared. That familiarity that he hadn’t quite reached with you yet.

Malleus knew that he shouldn’t be worried. He was the prince, the future king to Briar Valley, but as he watched the two of you interact, he couldn’t help but let something fester deep inside him.

You were both so…normal. Something that he never has been or will be.

But he digressed. Just because Trappola had feelings for you it didn’t automatically mean anything…

…right?

⚡︎

It was bright a day, but not blinding. Cool, but not an uncomfortable chill.

A perfect day for studying gargoyles, if he said so himself.

A few days ago, during one of your midnight talks, you had promised to go with him on an outing for the gargoyle research club if the weather approved of it.

Today was that day, so, he was going to make sure you made due on your promise.

He just had to find your first.

Malleus wasn’t exactly the best with electronics, he couldn't contact you via phone, and he didn't think you would appreciate it if he would randomly appear one second. Thus, it was up to him to seek you on campus on foot.

He didn't know how long he was walking for, it was hard for him to keep track of time. The sun was not as high in the sky as it was when he started his search. After a few more minutes of walking, and slightly growing frustration, he had found you.

You stood on the steps of the entrance of the gymnasium holding a bulky water bottle. You checked your phone, looking back and forth every so often into the open gymnasium door.

Malleus felt his heart pick up as he made his way towards you. An almost giddy smile spread over his face at the mere thought of being able to spend time in your company.

When he was a few dozen yards away from you he suddenly stopped.

Ace can bounding out of the gymnasium clad in his club uniform. He enthusiastically greeted you, taking the bottle from your hands. Malleus watched as you both chatted away. How easy you fell into conversation.

The sky darkened.

Pushing aside his thoughts, he steeled himself. He was dead set on at least asking you if you wanted to spend some time with him.

Then, as Malleus made his way over it happened. From an outsider, it wouldn’t have had seemed like much. But to the Prince it was, oh, so much more.

You had adjusted yourself, giving Ace a small wave goodbye. An odd expression had crossed over Ace’s face. He moved slightly to block your way, a grin forming onto his face. His hand came to the small of your back, attempting to gently convince you to sta—

*BOOM*

Lighting touched down on the ground, the thunder following soon after. The two of you jumped away from each other in surprise. The rain came almost immediately.

Malleus knew he shouldn’t allow his feelings to control him. It was unbecoming for a crown prince.

But, perhaps, this time it was okay.

Malleus continued his way to you. A black umbrella pulled over his head.

Once you regained your senses, from the corner of your eye you saw him approach. You fully turned around to greet him with a nervous smile.

He stepped under the awning, closing his umbrella with a slight shake to get the water out.

With as much charisma as he could muster, he held out a hand to you. “Will you go gargoyle watching with me, Child of Man?”

You blinked in surprise. You looked at the dark sky and then back at him. With his free hand, he held up his umbrella, slightly shaking it for emphasis.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his uncharacteristic behavior. You took his hand.

“I did promise didn’t I—?“ You remembered, Malleus could feel his cheeks redden at the thought—“However, I didn’t bring an umbr—”

With a nonchalant wave of Malleus hand, a soft green glow enveloped you. When the light dimmed it revealed a similar outfit to Malleus’s club uniform and in your hand held an identical black umbrella.

You cooed in delight, spinning around to view your new outfit.

Almost as if you realized something, you turned back to the freshman on the steps. Ace had a sour expression on his face, however he remained silent, simply taking in the scene before him.

You gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry..I’ll watch you another time. Promise!”

Ace had a contemplating look on his face, as if he was weighing a decision on his mind. Finally, he grinned, leaning in close you. So close that Malleus had half the mind to pull you away. He should remember himself.

“Hey Prefect, do you mind if I come over tomorrow night? My brother sent me some DVD’s and I saw some that were just up your alley.”

You placed you fingers on your chin, as you were deeply pondering the request. You finally hummed, nodding your head, finding your answer.

“Fine. But I want the crème de la crème! You better not cheap me out, Trappola!” You huffed, sporting a grin of your own, slightly leaning in.

Malleus felt his eye twitch.

“Alright great~ Just me and you?” Malleus could’ve swore he saw Ace’s eyes wander over to him, “It’s a date then.”

A flash of indignation washed over Malleus. Crackling burst of light danced across the dark sky.

This freshmen had some gull, Malleus would give him that.

Ace backed away, seemingly happy with himself. From inside the gym, a whistle rung out. Ace gave a quick wave goodbye and jogged back inside.

He was gone. Now it was just the two of you. Just how Malleus wanted it.

Or just how he should have wanted it.

What should’ve been a nice outing with you had turned into much more than he anticipated.

Even as the two of you walked away from the gymnasium and the rain lightened, the soft rumble of thunder was always in the distance.

It seemed as if he was mistaken. He would just have to try harder.

a/n: I tried to reflect their mindsets and personality through the third person writing. Had to pull out the thesaurus for Malleus. As I reread this I kinda realized went a little extra for Malleus's part. Oops!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader #itsmywritingtime #twst malleus #twst x reader #Malleus Draconia x reader #ace x reader #twst ace

970 notes · View notes

soft-blue-clouds · 10 months ago

Text

Hello!

There are many twst fans who, like me, hope that Yuu appears in Ace and Deuce's dreams, and although it does not seem very likely, if Nobara is revived, let us have faith that Yuu will appear in some dream.

I'm a fan of the Aceyuu ship, *coughs* Ace's voice lines *coughs* He likes Yuu but doesn't want to accept him *coughs*

Ace very happy to have two Yuus and Grim wondering who this false attempt of his henchman is.

#aceyuu

#art #twisted wonderland #twst yuu #funny #aceyuu #ace trapolla x yuu #ace trappola #yuu #Ace likes Yuu but doesn't want to accept him #ace trapolla x reader #twst grim #my yuusona

4K notes · View notes

dior-luxury · 2 months ago

Note

hiiiii hope you're having a good day! Can I request Idia, Azul, Ruggie, Jamil, Lilia, Ace + anyone else you like with a reader who has a crush on them but is utterly convinced there's no way he likes them back? Just "he's so cute and I love him but he's way out of my league, oh well back to daydreaming" Thank youuuu ~ 👾 nonnie

You Being Convinced They Don't Like You Back

( ✧ ) ────── pre-boyfriend stories . fluff - gn!reader .

- [𝐜𝐡.] ace . ruggie . azul . jamil . idia . lilia

- [𝐩:𝐬] Self-deprecating thoughts / Low self-esteem . Mutual pining . Angst with a happy ending . Romantic insecurity . Fluff

Note: I literally am in LOVE with this prompt hello 🥹 thank you so much for requesting 👾 nonnie! I hope my writing exceeds your expectations ( ´ ω ` ) .

Ace Trappola

The library was unusually quiet for a Thursday afternoon, the hum of distant conversation muffled by the towering shelves of books and the occasional creak of an old wooden chair. You sat in the farthest corner, your favorite spot, hunched over your notebook but not really writing. Not really thinking, either.

You were doodling again—him, of course. The slightly messy hair that was always a shade redder in the sunlight, the crooked smirk that came out right before he teased someone (or charmed them), and those stupid little hearts he sometimes made with his hands just to be annoying. Ace Trappola.

You sighed and dropped your pencil, watching it roll off the desk. “Ugh, why is he so cute,” you mumbled under your breath, face down in your arms.

It wasn’t like he knew you existed in any special way. Sure, you were classmates, sometimes group partners, sometimes sparring partners in flight class. He joked with you a lot, yeah. But he joked with everyone. He winked at everyone. He didn’t look at you the way you looked at him—soft, lingering, completely lovesick.

You were convinced Ace belonged in a whole different universe than you. He was bold, charming, magnetic. And you? You were… fine. Okay. Passable. Not his type, whatever that was. So you kept it inside. You giggled with your friends about how cute he looked in his uniform, you wrote little daydreams in your journal and then crossed them out, and you tried to survive the actual conversations with him without letting the pink in your cheeks get too noticeable.

What you didn’t know—what you couldn’t have known—was that Ace had been hovering outside the aisle for the past five minutes.

He’d come to return a book, seen you, and almost walked away. But your muttering had stopped him cold.

He leaned a little closer, his heartbeat just a bit too loud in his ears. Did you just call him cute? No way. You were probably talking about some manga character.

But then you sighed again and muttered, “He’d never like someone like me. Not when he’s... him.”

And something in Ace's chest twisted.

He stepped out casually, pretending like he hadn’t just eavesdropped on your heartbreak. “Yo,” he said, tossing the book on the return cart. “Didn’t know you talked to yourself. Should I be worried?”

You jolted upright, face turning crimson the moment you saw him. “A-Ace?!”

He leaned on the edge of your desk, eyes scanning your doodles. “Wow, that guy looks exactly like me,” he teased. “You got a little crush or something?”

You tried to cover the page, but it was too late. Panic surged in your chest, your throat tightening as every possible excuse dried up on your tongue.

Ace tilted his head, smirk fading just slightly into something softer. “Hey,” he said, quieter now. “Was that about me back there? What you said?”

You froze. Busted.

He laughed—gently, not the loud, showy kind. “You think I’m out of your league? That’s rich. You literally do everything better than me except math, and I still think about how you beat me in Spell Target last month.”

You blinked, stunned.

Ace grinned wider, leaning just a bit closer. “So... maybe I’ve got a little crush too. Don’t go writing me off like that next time, yeah?”

Ruggie Bucchi

It was late afternoon, and the Savannaclaw lounge was mostly empty—except for you, perched on the steps outside, and Ruggie, balancing a tray of snacks with a practiced hand. You’d offered to help, but he’d waved you off with a grin.

“Relax, I got this.”

You smiled politely, folding your arms tighter. Not that he’d notice the way your chest fluttered when he smiled like that. That sly, sleepy-eyed grin that made your stomach dip every time.

Ruggie was… everything you weren’t. Fast-talking, adaptable, clever, confident in a way you never could be. He made jokes even when Leona was glaring daggers. He knew how to turn scraps into something useful. And you? You were just you.

No way he’d be interested in someone who wasn’t cool, cunning, or at least a little dangerous. He needed someone who could keep up with his sharp tongue and trickster nature. Not someone like you who blushed too easily and got tongue-tied every time he looked your way.

You fiddled with a loose thread on your sleeve, sighing. “He’s way out of my league,” you whispered to no one.

Unbeknownst to you, Ruggie was returning from the lounge, just in time to hear that.

He paused in his step, the grin faltering as the words sank in.

Out of your league? Him?

He tilted his head, watching you. You looked… soft. Tired. Not just from today, but maybe from carrying that weight in your chest. The kind he knew too well. Ruggie bit the inside of his cheek and walked over quietly, plopping down beside you without a word.

You looked up, startled. “Oh! You’re back.”

“Yeah.” He offered you one of the sweet pastries he’d snagged from the kitchen. “You looked like you needed somethin’ sweet.”

You took it, hesitating. “Thanks…”

The silence lingered a moment too long. Then Ruggie said casually, “You know, I heard what you said.”

You froze.

Ruggie turned his head to look at you, his smile smaller now, more sincere. “You think I’m outta your league?” He snorted. “That’s a laugh. You’re the only one around here who’s nice to me without expecting somethin’ in return.”

You stared, lips parting, but no words came out.

“I notice things, y’know,” he continued, voice lower now. “How you bring extra snacks just in case someone forgets lunch. How you patch people up after training. How you always wave to Grim like he’s the main character or somethin’.”

You smiled weakly. “He thinks he is.”

Ruggie chuckled. “You’ve got no idea how easy it is to like you, do ya?”

The air went still.

He leaned a bit closer, a mischievous spark lighting back up in his eyes. “So, what d’you say we make this official? You stop pretendin’ I don’t like you, and I stop stealin’ snacks to get your attention. Deal?”

You couldn’t speak. You just nodded—furiously.

And Ruggie, with a smug little grin, nudged your shoulder and whispered, “Knew you liked me, too.”

Azul Ashengrotto

The lounge was closed for the night, lights dimmed, the usual chatter of customers replaced by the quiet shuffle of papers and the gentle clink of glass as Azul organized the bar. You sat alone at one of the side tables—he’d offered to let you hang out while he finished work, a kind gesture wrapped in professionalism. You didn’t question it. You were just happy to be near him.

Azul was perfect. Not in an untouchable way, but in the dangerously magnetic way. His intelligence, his poise, the calculating way his eyes always seemed to know more than he let on. He could make a deal with a king and still get the better end of it. He ran a whole business while juggling classes and contracts and never once looked like he was struggling.

Meanwhile, you were just… you. No cunning. No genius intellect. Just someone who barely passed alchemy and still got nervous speaking in front of people. Azul was miles above your league.

So, you admired him from afar. You listened carefully when he spoke in class, hung onto his every word when he got passionate about potion theory, and then pretended not to ache when he’d smile politely and move on without knowing how he affected you.

Tonight was no different.

You watched him from behind your drink, your heart fluttering as he adjusted his glasses, sleeves rolled to his elbows. You sighed under your breath, “He’s so beautiful. And way out of my league. Oh well. Back to daydreaming…”

Azul looked up.

He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but his mer ears were… sensitive. The words hit him harder than expected. You thought he was out of your league?

He swallowed hard, turning away quickly to hide the sudden redness in his cheeks. Was that a joke? Were you playing him? No, no—your voice had been too soft. Too sad.

He closed the ledger and made his way over to your table, rehearsing something casual to say. But he couldn’t do it. The usual charm slipped. He sat down across from you instead, unusually quiet.

“Everything alright?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said too quickly. Then, after a breath: “I overheard something just now.”

Your heart dropped.

“I didn’t mean to. But you said…” He paused, searching your face for any trace of irony. “You think I’m out of your league?”

You froze. Busted again. Why did the universe keep doing this to you?

Azul looked… uncertain. Vulnerable. His fingers tapped the edge of the table in a rare moment of nervous fidgeting. “You have no idea how intimidating you are to me.”

You blinked. “Me?!”

“Yes. You’re so—genuine. You smile without scheming. You care without a contract. That’s not something I’m used to.” His voice dropped, soft and serious. “And I’ve liked you for a while. But I didn’t think someone as… sincere as you could ever return that kind of feeling.”

Your chest clenched. “Azul, I… I do. I have. For a long time.”

He gave a breathless little laugh. “Then perhaps… a real date? No contracts, no business. Just us?”

You nodded, overwhelmed but glowing. And for once, Azul Ashengrotto looked flustered. Adorably so.

Jamil Viper

The sun was setting over Scarabia, painting the desert sky in shades of gold and crimson. You sat at the balcony edge of the dorm’s main building, legs dangling, fingers absentmindedly picking at your sleeve as you watched the horizon burn.

Jamil was training below—moving with that smooth, graceful precision of someone who knew exactly what he was doing and exactly how much attention he was getting. But Jamil never asked for attention. He earned it quietly, consistently, and refused to let it change him.

You had it bad. So bad it was kind of pathetic.

He was calm, composed, mysterious in the way that made your heart race just a little. But also kind, thoughtful, and far too selfless for someone with his level of talent. You loved the way he took care of others, even when they didn’t realize he was doing it. You loved the way his eyes lit up when no one was watching and he actually let himself enjoy something.

And of course, you’d convinced yourself he’d never return the feeling.

You were ordinary. Not someone with elegance carved into every step. Not someone with a voice that could silence a room. You were nice, and dependable, but not the kind of person who got someone like Jamil Viper.

You sighed and murmured to yourself, “He’s so cool and so out of my league… but I love him anyway. Guess I’ll just keep dreaming.”

Unfortunately, your voice carried.

Jamil paused mid-step, hearing your words. The rhythm of his movements faltered for just a second. He glanced up, spotted you on the balcony, and blinked.

Your eyes met. Panic.

He jogged up the steps—not fast, but direct. Intentional.

You stood, heart racing. “J-Jamil, I didn’t know you—”

“I heard you,” he said, his voice even, but there was a flicker of emotion in his eyes you hadn’t seen before. “What you said.”

You turned crimson. “That was—I didn’t mean—well, I did, but not for you to—”

He held up a hand gently. “Can I be honest with you?”

You nodded, too stunned to speak.

“I’ve spent a long time trying not to like anyone,” he said slowly. “Because it’s easier. Because I don’t get to have things I want. People expect me to stay in the background, to be useful—not to be seen.”

Your breath hitched.

“But then you came along. You’re kind. You notice things most people overlook. You see me.” He looked away for a second, a rare flicker of vulnerability. “And I didn’t think I was allowed to want someone like you.”

You were stunned. “Jamil… I see you because I care. I’ve always cared.”

He looked at you again, softer now. “Then maybe we’ve both been idiots.”

You laughed shakily. “Definitely.”

Jamil stepped closer, a real smile pulling at his lips. “Then let’s stop pretending. I like you. And I’m not letting you drift away into daydreams anymore.”

Your heart soared. Maybe… just maybe… you were enough for him all along.

Idia Shroud

The glow of the computer screen lit your face as you sat cross-legged on the floor of Ignihyde's rec room—aka Idia's fortress. You’d been invited to a co-op gaming session, not unusual since you’d proven yourself in battle simulators, strategy MMOs, and the occasional horror VR run.

But what was unusual… was that Idia had invited you.

You kept telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal. He was probably just being friendly. Maybe he appreciated that you didn’t make fun of his Otaku shrine or that time he totally short-circuited a project trying to install AI voice lines of a waifu into Ortho.

Still, every time he laughed softly at one of your dumb jokes, or his fingers brushed yours when you handed him a controller—you felt that dizzy, heart-thumping feeling in your chest. And you reminded yourself, for the millionth time:

“He’s brilliant. Cool in a mysterious, tech-wizard way. That anime hair glows. He’s basically a boss-level character. And me? I’m just a side quest.”

So you kept your feelings locked behind your own firewall and resigned yourself to the background.

Tonight was no different. After you won a particularly chaotic match, Idia leaned back in his chair, hoodie half-draped over his head, giving you one of those rare, sheepish smiles. “Y-you’re really good at this… I mean, I knew you were decent, but like… whoa. T-totally NPC-crushing it.”

You smiled, heart fluttering. “Guess I just like playing with you…”

He froze. Not visibly, not obviously—but if you’d been watching closely (and you always were), you’d notice the way his avatar just… idled.

You were about to awkwardly fill the silence when you heard it—his voice, quiet, uncertain. “You know, I always thought you were… like… out of my league.”

Your brain lagged.

“Wait—what?”

Idia pulled the hood further over his head, hair flickering in shades of anxious pink. “I mean, you’re normal. Like, good at talking to people, and helping Ortho with projects, and you actually listen when I go off on anime world-building lore instead of hitting skip like everyone else.”

Your jaw dropped a little. “But I thought I was just the sidekick here! I mean—you’re… you. I figured there was no way someone like you could like someone like me.”

He glanced up, eyes wide and glowing faintly. “No. You’re not ‘someone like’ anything. You’re just… you. And you’re kind of my favorite player two.”

Silence stretched.

And then he blurted, fast and fumbling, “So—uh, do you wanna maybe do a… real date co-op thing? Like a—non-digital questline?”

You beamed. “I’d love to.”

And somewhere in the corner, Ortho’s little scanner lit up green. “Successful confession: confirmed.”

Lilia Vanrouge

The Diasomnia garden was especially quiet in the evening, the moonlight bathing the stone paths in silver as soft wind rustled the leaves. You often came here after a long day—it was peaceful, and you could just… think.

And of course, he was often there.

Lilia.

Sometimes humming an old lullaby. Sometimes practicing aerial flips. Sometimes just tending to the strange, glowing plants with that serene little smile. He was enigmatic, ageless, playful in a way that made your heart ache. He flirted with everyone, joked like he’d seen centuries of stories unfold—and maybe he had.

You were utterly, hopelessly, in love with him.

But you’d buried it. Because how could someone like Lilia Vanrouge—mysterious, powerful, ancient, and radiant—ever love someone like you?

“He’s basically immortal. I’m mortal, awkward, and sometimes trip over nothing. He’s been alive since kingdoms rose and fell. I’m just trying to pass my midterms without dying of stress. He probably sees me like a cute stray cat or something.”

So instead of confessing, you smiled, nodded when he teased you, and let the daydreams pile up where he couldn’t see.

Tonight, you didn’t notice him approach until he sat beside you, quiet and uncharacteristically gentle.

“Lost in thought, little one?”

You startled slightly, then laughed. “Yeah. Just… life stuff.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, gaze flicking over your face like he was reading something written across your skin. “You've been sighing a lot lately.”

You tried to deflect. “Guess I’ve just been thinking about someone.”

His eyes twinkled. “Ah… a crush, perhaps?”

You flushed. “Maybe.”

Lilia tilted his head, fangs barely visible behind his grin. “And what is this mysterious someone like?”

You bit your lip. “He’s… incredible. Playful but wise. Mysterious. Totally out of my league.”

That grin faded—just slightly. “Out of your league?”

You nodded, sighing. “Yeah. He’s someone who probably sees a million people every day and never notices someone like me. Which is fine. I’m just… daydreaming. That’s all.”

Lilia was silent for a beat. And then he did something you hadn’t expected.

He took your hand.

“You know,” he said quietly, “for someone who’s lived as long as I have… very few people surprise me anymore. But you? You always do. With your honesty, your kindness… and the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

You froze.

“I do notice,” he added, voice lowering, soft as dusk. “And I would be a fool not to return the favor.”

You stared, eyes wide. “Wait… you—?”

“Yes.” He smiled, a touch bittersweet. “And I’ve been waiting for the right time to say it. But it seems we’ve both been sitting in our little corners of longing, haven’t we?”

You nodded, heart hammering.

He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a featherlight kiss to your knuckles. “Well then… perhaps it’s time we step out of the daydream.”

#𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐑-𝐋𝐔𝐗𝐔𝐑𝐘 #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland headcanons #twst x reader #twst headcanons #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland #twst imagines #ace trappola x reader #ace trapolla x reader #ruggie bucchi x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #jamil viper x reader #idia shroud x reader #lilia vanrouge imagines #lilia vanrouge headcanons #lilia vanrouge x reader

1K notes · View notes

lemondytart · 6 months ago

Text

VARIATIONS [ft. First Years]

Happy New Years Everyone!

3K notes · View notes

nekonaps0 · 12 hours ago

Text

Brushstrokes and Blushes

✦fem!reader, Ace Trappola

✦The last thing Ace expected when he got dragged into an elective art class was to develop a huge, ridiculous crush on the teacher.

✦Humor, Fluff, Teacher!Reader, Ace Being a Menace, Protective Deuce

✦Word Count: 2,409

The last thing Ace expected when he got dragged into an elective art class was to develop a huge, ridiculous crush on the teacher.

It all started on a sluggish Tuesday afternoon.

Ace flopped into the nearest stool in the art room, dramatically dragging his sketchpad behind him.

“Ugh. Can’t believe I had to fill an elective slot. Why couldn’t it be something easy like… broom flying or potion tasting?”

Deuce, ever the responsible one, sat beside him with better posture and a furrowed brow.

“You already failed broom flying, remember? And you can’t ‘taste’ potions if you blow them up.”

Ace rolled his eyes. “Still better than drawing. What am I gonna do? Doodle some hearts and hope I pass?”

Deuce sighed. “Just try not to get detention.”

But before either could complain further, the door opened.

And you walked in.

You were smiling. Softly, genuinely. Wearing a pastel-toned blouse smudged slightly with paint, hair tucked back with two clips, and a warmth that filled the whole room. The soft clink of your earrings and the smell of oil paint and florals preceded your calm voice as you greeted the class.

“Good afternoon, everyone. I’m Y/N, your new art teacher. I’m really happy to be here with all of you.”

Ace sat up straighter.

You were… cute.

No—hot.

No—hot and cute?!

“Let’s start with something simple today,” you continued, motioning to the front of the classroom. “You don’t need to be perfect. Just draw what you feel. Art’s more about expression than execution.”

Ace’s brain short circuited at the way you smiled. Did your eyes just sparkle or was that the overhead lights?

You passed out supplies and complimented each student in some way. You were patient with Cater when he drew a selfie instead of the still life you’d assigned. You didn’t even get mad when Grim spilled paint on the desk. And when you stopped by Ace’s desk, leaning slightly over his shoulder to look at the messy sketch he’d done of a half finished apple, your voice was soft and encouraging.

“That’s a great start. Try adding some shadow here, just like this…” You gently guided his pencil with yours. “See? It gives the apple a bit more dimension.”

Ace, who normally hated being corrected, stared at you with wide eyes and a pounding heart.

He was in trouble.

When you moved on to help another student, Ace blinked down at his paper. For the first time in his life, he actually cared whether a drawing turned out okay. Not because he loved art, but because you told him he could do better.

He nudged Deuce with his elbow.

“Dude.”

Deuce didn’t look up. “Hmm?”

“She’s like… super cute and hot.”

Deuce paused, pencil in midair. “Don’t.”

“I think I’m in love.”

“You’re not.”

“I am. This is fate.”

Deuce finally looked at him, visibly alarmed. “Ace. No. She’s a teacher.”

“She’s not that much older.”

“She teaches us. That means she’s off-limits. There are rules. Probably laws. Probably murder attempts by Crowley if you even try.”

Ace grinned smugly. “You’re just jealous.”

Deuce groaned. “This is your worst idea ever. And that includes the time you tried to smuggle chocolate frogs during potion exams.”

Ace didn’t answer. He was too busy glancing at you across the room like a heart eyed fool.

•

You, meanwhile, had noticed Ace’s stares. And while you were used to the occasional flirty student like Cater had already jokingly asked if you were single, there was something particularly obvious about Ace Trappola.

He wasn’t subtle.

At all.

He’d stared for most of the class, and when you gave him a simple suggestion, his face turned red and he just… blinked at you like you’d cast a spell on him.

You didn’t blame him, students his age were bundles of hormones. You’d seen this kind of thing before. It was sweet, and innocent, and—

Entirely inappropriate.

But harmless.

You smiled to yourself as you continued circling the room, deciding not to make a big deal of it.

Kids would be kids.

Besides, it would fade.

Right?

•

After class, Ace lingered behind while others packed up.

“Um. Miss Y/N?” he called out, casually leaning against a nearby stool like it owed him money. “So… how long have you been drawing?”

You turned, pleasantly surprised. “Most of my life, really. I started with charcoal, but I’ve come to love oils and pastels too.”

“That’s cool,” Ace said, trying to act smooth. “You must be, like, really good.”

You laughed lightly. “I’d hope so, otherwise I wouldn’t be teaching you guys.”

He gave a sheepish grin.

You tilted your head. “Do you enjoy drawing?”

Ace shrugged. “I dunno. Never really tried. But today was… not bad.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that. Hopefully I can make it even more enjoyable for you.”

Ace smiled, and for a moment, his heart actually thudded. Like, hard.

Maybe this wasn’t just a little crush.

Maybe this was the real deal.

Maybe—

Deuce suddenly appeared in the doorway, arms crossed and scowling.

“Let’s go, Ace. Lunch isn’t gonna wait.”

Ace blinked, startled. “Oh—right. Yeah.” He gave you one last smile. “See you next class, Miss Y/N.”

You nodded. “See you, Trappola.”

Once they were out of earshot, Deuce grabbed him by the collar. “Get a grip!”

Ace just grinned, heart still hammering in his chest.

“I’m doomed.”

•

The bell rang, signaling the end of another long art class. You stood at the front of the room with your usual warm smile, thanking the students as they walked out. Most of them nodded back or mumbled a goodbye, eager to head off to their next class or some club activity.

Ace Trappola, however, lingered by the door, fidgeting with his sketchpad and pretending he was in no rush. You noticed him immediately, he’d been unusually chipper all class, sneaking glances at you and asking questions he already knew the answers to.

“Trappola,” you said gently. “Is there something you need?”

Ace stepped forward, trying to look cooler than he felt. “Yeah, actually,” he said, stuffing one hand into his uniform pocket and giving you a half smile. “I was wondering if you wanted to go on a date with me.”

You blinked, then tilted your head with a light laugh. “Absolutely not.”

His smile faltered just a little. “Wha—what? That’s it?!”

“I mean that kindly,” you added, your tone still calm and gentle. “You’re a sweet kid, Ace, but you’re a student, and I’m your teacher. Not to mention the age difference. So no, not now, not ever.”

Ace stared, slightly slack jawed. “You called me a kid?”

“You are,” you said simply, walking past him to stack a few leftover brushes in the sink. “I appreciate the honesty, though. That took guts.”

You thought that would be the end of it.

You were wrong.

The next day, Ace was back at it again, another compliment here, a cheeky grin there. And again, he waited until the end of class.

“Hey, how about that date?”

“Still no.”

Then again the day after that.

“I’m thinking maybe dinner and a walk by the school lake? Very romantic.”

“Absolutely not.”

And again. And again. It became a strange sort of routine. He didn’t seem discouraged in the slightest, even if his attempts kept getting shot down.

•

By the time lunchtime came around one week later, Ace was at the cafeteria table with his usual crew, slumped over his tray like a man defeated.

“She smiled at me today,” Ace groaned, stabbing a piece of sausage like it had offended him. “But then… boom! another rejection. ‘Absolutely not,’ she says. Again!”

Jack shook his head. “That’s because she’s your teacher. Of course she keeps saying no.”

“She’s also, like, an adult,” Ortho chimed in, blinking. “Biologically speaking, the odds of compatibility—”

“Please, Ortho,” Epel muttered, sipping his juice. “You’re not helping.”

Deuce sighed and rubbed his temples. “Ace, we’ve been listening to this every lunch for the last eight days. You keep asking, she keeps saying no. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Because she’s hot, and sweet, and cool!” Ace protested. “Have you seen the way she talks about art like it’s magic? Have you seen her smile when someone finally gets the shading right? I’m telling you, it’s fate!”

Epel stared. “Bro, this is either the dumbest thing you’ve ever done or the most hopeless romantic one.”

“Why not both?” Ace muttered dramatically.

Deuce looked between the others, then back at Ace. “Okay, listen. You need a distraction. Let’s head into town after class. We’ll hit up the game store or something.”

“Or eat ice cream!” Ortho added. “That helps with heartbreak, right?”

“Y’all are acting like I got dumped,” Ace grumbled, but he was already sitting up straighter. “Alright, alright. Maybe getting out will help. But just know I’m not giving up.”

“Of course not,” Jack said dryly. “Because you never listen.”

As the boys made plans, Ace found himself smiling again. He’d take the break. But deep down, he was already planning how to ask you again, maybe with flowers next time.

•

The town buzzed with its usual weekend energy, vendors shouting, students roaming, and shopkeepers setting out signs. It was the perfect place for a distraction, and Ace actually found himself enjoying it.

“Okay, I’ll admit it,” Ace said with a grin, popping a candy in his mouth. “This was a good idea.”

“I told you,” Deuce said, arms crossed. “It’s nice to just chill without… you know, heartbreak.”

“You sound like I got dumped.” Ace rolled his eyes. “I never even got a yes.”

The boys had already hit up the arcade, where Ace had gone on a dramatic winning streak that included beating Epel at every racing game and losing horribly to Ortho in a rhythm battle.

They grabbed some snacks, wandered a bit, even found a cute photo booth. For a moment, Ace had stopped thinking about you entirely.

Until Ortho’s voice broke through the crowd.

“Uh-oh.”

“What’s ‘uh-oh’ supposed to mean?” Ace asked, half-laughing. “You break something again?”

Ortho didn’t answer. He and Deuce were frozen, standing like badly coded NPCs trying to block Ace’s view of the other side of the street.

But it was already too late.

Ace leaned to the side and his heart stopped.

You were there, standing in front of a boutique. Dressed in something soft and elegant, makeup done just enough to highlight your best features. You looked like you belonged on the cover of a magazine. You were scrolling on your phone, casually unaware that you had just become the center of someone’s universe all over again.

“Oh crap…” Epel muttered.

“She looks… whoa,” Jack said with a sigh, already bracing for the incoming disaster.

Ace didn’t hear any of them. He was already crossing the street.

“Hey, hey!” he called, waving. “Fancy seeing you here!”

You looked up and smiled. That smile. It still had the power to melt anyone’s heart.

“Well, look at you boys,” you said sweetly. “Having fun?”

“Y-Yeah! Totally!” Ace grinned, flicking his hair back like he didn’t spend most mornings messing with it in the mirror. “But wow—you look amazing today. Like, drop-dead gorgeous. Special occasion or just naturally that stunning?”

Behind him, Deuce groaned into his hands. Jack facepalmed. Ortho was trying to calculate the fastest way to drag Ace out of the line of fire.

You were just about to respond when the door behind you swung open, and a familiar voice followed

“Apologies for the delay, Love. That employee was more clueless than a freshman on his first potion.”

Professor Crewel stepped out, dressed to the nines in an immaculate suit and silk gloves, like he had just walked off a fashion runway. His sharp eyes landed on Ace and the boys… and he froze.

There was a beat of stunned silence.

“Oh no…” Epel whispered.

Crewel raised an eyebrow. “Students?”

You gave a sheepish sigh and looked at the group with a soft smile. “Boys, I guess I should’ve said something sooner. Crewel and I are dating.”

Ace blinked.

He blinked again.

And then he laughed, but it sounded like it might also be a sob.

“You’re dating Professor Crewel?!” he asked, voice cracking like a broken guitar string.

“You’re a literal child, Trappola,” Crewel said dryly, though he didn’t sound angry. “Be grateful your taste is excellent.”

“I mean—yeah—but seriously?!”

“I’m very serious,” you said gently, placing a hand on Crewel’s arm.

Crewel’s cold, stern face softened at your touch.

“Right. Sure. That’s cool.” Ace nodded, looking like someone just deleted his save file. “Totally… great. Great for you two.”

You both gave a polite farewell, and walked off hand in hand, leaving Ace staring at the back of your outfit like it had personally betrayed him.

There was a long, painful silence.

“…Well,” Deuce said, clapping him on the back. “At least now you have closure.”

Ace groaned. “My heart just got critical-hit KO’d.”

“You were going to get rejected again anyway,” Jack said bluntly.

“Yeah, but not this hard!!!”

Ortho tilted his head. “I can find you someone statistically more likely to say yes, if that helps.”

“I don’t need your pity matchmaking, Ortho,” Ace mumbled, sulking.

They were about to head back toward the café when Ace suddenly gasped.

“What?” Epel asked.

Across the street, another young woman had stepped out of a flower shop. Dressed like springtime and sunshine, fixing her hair in the reflection of the glass.

Ace straightened up, flashing a grin.

“…Or maybe it’s time for the next chapter.”

“NO!” all four boys said at once.

Too late. Ace was already strolling toward her.

Deuce dropped his face into his hands. “Here we go again.”

Jack growled. “You’d think rejection would teach him something.”

“Not Ace,” Epel muttered. “He treats love like a boss fight, keeps rushing in ‘til it works.”

Ortho blinked and said cheerfully, “I think it’s romantic.”

“It’s not!” the other three groaned.

And from across the street, Ace’s flirty voice rang out once more.

“Hey there, need help carrying those flowers?”

..............................................................................................................................

Btw! We hit ✨1k followers✨ so because of that! THE REQUESTS ARE OPEN AGAIN!!

120 notes · View notes

twisted-wonderland-but-gayer · 1 year ago

Text

Language Barriers

Based off the idea that Yuu doesn't speak the same language or have the same culture norms in their world!! Got inspired for once

Content Info: GN!, 4.6K words-ish, Fluff/Comedy, Platonic except in Kalim's, Aztec refs in Leonas, NSFW jokes in Heartslabyul, Staff being parents, Trey bullying

Characters: Mozus Trein, Divus Crewel, Dire Crowley, Ashton Vargas, Sam, Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Grim, Leona Kingscholar, Kalim al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit

***

Since your arrival in Twisted Wonderland, you have begun to grasp the language and culture of this world. For the most part, at least.

You remember as clear as day when you first arrived, the pure confusion of the Headmage and those around you. Words from your lips were pure gibberish to them. They stared at you like you were an anomaly— and they were right. You are one.

‘Glitchy’ is the term they have used to describe your voice. “It is as though the sound around you warps everytime you speak.” The Headmage— Crowley— said.

The man had given you a necklace alongside an old dorm he housed you in. It was a simple looking necklace. A small mirror charm dangles in the center of it. Subtle enough to not draw attention to it.

It wasn't just a necklace however. It was a translator, a universal one.

The ‘glitches’ from your mouth had stopped and became the strange sounds the natives here spoke. Still, the necklace is just a buffer. Just because you can understand them doesn't mean you know what they're saying.

You still do not know the slang, the culture, the phrases, the grammar. Words still slipped your mind. You swear all you can hear is gibberish at times– and honestly you don’t doubt it occasionally is when students want to mess with you. You still had a lot to learn and there have been many miscommunications along the way. All part of the journey you suppose.

The staff here weren't coddling at all but they were accommodating. They made it clear that they favored no student more than the other. (At least that's what they claim.) But they also understood that holding you to the same standard would be unfair.

Mozus Trein

Professor Mozus Trein was a blessing when it came to learning about this world. His history classes made understanding this place easier. Trein would even give you extra context with his lessons to help you understand the everyday things and universal knowledge that you are unaware of.

His standards for your essays were different. He was no less strict on you but he was reasonable. He could tell that you truly understood the concept and put effort into your papers despite the language barrier and he is not going to punish you for learning.

You would get your paper back with a high grade and a page of corrections with explanations for each one. Why this comma here wrong. Why this was the wrong conjugation of that word. How this sentence could be improved.

“Excuse me, Professor?” You test the words as you speak them, accent slipping out. Trein looks to you from his desk. "Yes?”

“This word here is marked as wrong, but I remember you saying ‘I before E except after C.’” You tilt the paper to him and the older man adjusts himself on seat.

“Let me see here…” Trein paused to read the paper, expert eyes scanning for any potential mistakes. “Ah I see, that word there is an exception. ‘Sovereign’ doesn't follow that rule.” He closed his eyes as he explained and you nodded in understanding.

“I see, so I just have to memorize it. Are there any other words like that?” You didn't like how Trein seemed to frown as he thought about it. He hadn't realized how many there were. “Yes there are. A lot more than I anticipated I’m afraid,” a sigh escapes his lips and he shakes his head.

“I will not hold this against your grade since you have been improving with each assignment. Little mistakes like this will be forgiven so long as they are not repeated. Allow me to adjust your grade accordingly.”

You tilted your head as your B+ went to an A-. A small smile decorates your features. Trein nods to you and hands you your paper back. “There you are then. On to you next class.” You turn to leave but are stopped by when he speaks again.

“You should be proud of yourself, Yuu. You are the hardest working student I've have ever had the pleasure of teaching.” You perked up and your smile grew as you were onto your next class.

Divus Crewel

Professor Divus Crewel’s classes were difficult for completely different reasons. Math and numbers were the same for the most part aside from some minor symbol changes. Word problems were the bane of your existence however. Thankfully Divus can see that you understand the math. He'll often pass you or only take half a point off if you use the wrong equation or misunderstand the question and such.

He also gave you a small private lesson about alchemy as well. Teaching you the basic terms and proper protocols that most students would have learned early in their education. He'd show how to differentiate the effects an ingredient would have by the prefixes of their names or symbols on the vial.

But most importantly he would help you socially. What you should dress like for certain events. The correct way to speak so you could sound like a native. Social cues.

And he would refuse to admit it but you were his prized pup over the rest. He may or may not have slipped you a few perfumes or clothing under the guise of “Crowley not providing enough” or “Taking stress off of you to do better in class.” You knew better though.

After all, how could he play off giving a coat similar to his? It was less flashy and more suited to your tastes. It wasn't obvious to anyone else that you matched him unless they really observed. Perfect to wear in his class.

He's always looking out for you. Making sure you are safe and secure. And should you get injured from another adventure, he is there with a potion in hand.

Dire Crowley

Crowley was the one that gave you the necklace and a place to stay. Though eccentric and a bit well… lazy, you couldn’t deny that this was a good display of his generosity. Even if he does make you work for it.

Crowley was a strange one. He'd gift you some magical object one day and then forget you exist the next. He’d help you with your paperwork for accommodations and then forget to approve of them.

One time he dropped off a stack of paperwork on you to do for him but still left you a huge comprehensive guide that teaches you how to do each one. On top of that there was even a translation card meant to help you. If he put this much effort into these papers he'd be done by now. You assume he made this so he can drop more on you in the future. You swear he mentioned he's doing this to you to ‘prepare you for when you become the new headmage— er headmaster.’ Yeah right.

He'd give you dangerous tasks then become overprotective if any boy dare get too close to you. He'd help with anything but only if you stroke his ego. Yet despite it all he was still, as much as you hated to admit it, generous.

Despite everything, he has taken you in instead of abandoning you in this world. You swear sometimes he acts like a dad to you… When its convenient.

He's so annoying but you can’t find it in your heart to truly hate him. He may get you in trouble, but the moment it becomes too dangerous he steps in without hesitation to protect you and gives you a huge lecture after.

You hope you learn enough of the language to properly scold him.

Ashton Vargas

“Is this really necessary?” You ask the coach in front who re-wraps your hands tightly. “Absolutely it is!” The Coach's booming voice resonates in you as he pats you on your back rather roughly. “Give me another punch.”

You swallow and raise your hands again. You hesitate. “Come on kid you aren't gonna leave a dent in me!” You swallow and swing at his stomach. Vargas was right, he doesn't even flinch as your arm practically vibrates.

“That was a good form! I almost felt it.” A great guffaw rumbles in his chest. “Again!” Another punch, he looks down approvingly.

“Not bad, not bad at all. I sense a lot of potential in you, kid. That's enough for today.” You breathe a sigh of relief as you wipe your brow and unwrap your hands.

“Seems my training regiment is working, you're getting stronger by the day. Still— this on its own isn't enough. You need protein, kid! Lots of it. And you know what a good source of protein is?”

You stare at him for a moment. “Those uh…” the word slips your mind. “Chicken… capsules…?”

“Bingo! But they're called Eggs here Yuu.” Ashton puts a hand on his hip and makes a fist. “You should start with a dozen eggs per day and increase from there. I know that headmage can't be relied on to pay you in time, so I personally will deliver some bulking meals myself!”

“... Why are you doing this for me?” Your voice comes out a bit quiet as you speak. Ashton looks at you for a minute. “Why? Because you’re my student and I want to see you succeed. You got some serious strength hidden in you, and it would br a shame to see it wasted. Besides…”

As he speaks he starts taking down those punchy things, sandbags, you think. “The students here are quite rowdy. I want you to be able to defend yourself, especially since you don't have magic. You have to rely on brawn, Yuu! And I will be the one to awaken it.”

Vargas strikes a pose for a moment before relaxing. “Before you go I need to teach you some vocabulary.”

“Vocabulary…?”

“About your muscles of course!” The coach sat you down for a moment as he went into kinesiology. Micros and macros. Bulking. He broke it all down for you while flexing his muscles to emphasize his points.

“Now off you go Yuu, meet me here same time tomorrow, got it?”

Sam

Sam is a cool dude. You interact with him a lot. He never had an issue when you were first learning to speak. In fact he'd help you find the products you described to him. Of course he'd try and convince you to buy the more premium products but that's just business.

He'd even offer you a gig or two. His shelves don't stock themselves and his shadow friends wouldn't mind some extra help. Just know they can be a bit mischievous. While you were working you'd even get a small employee discount.

Even though your language has gotten better, there is still the occasional mix up.

“Ah, prefect! What can I do for you?” Sam queried while leaning on the counter top, delighted to see one of his favorite customers. “I am looking for… um…” You froze. What was that word again??

“The… white liquid?” You watched as Sam racked his brain for what you meant. “An invisibility potion?”

“No no! It's like… a juice?”

“Ah! I got it! Coconut milk!” The man snapped his fingers and winked. He frowned a bit when you shook your head.

“Wait here.” The shadow man watched as you ventured into the small smack aisle in front of him. Soon you took a bag of beef jerky and pointed to the small symbol on it. “What is this animal called again?”

“That's a cow.”

“Yes! I need the juice from it! The cow juice! What is its name? I forgot.” you perked up and beamed at him, hoping he understood. It all clicked for Sam, and he let out a hearty laugh at the realization.

“Do you mean milk, perchance?”

“Yes! I knew it had that sound! I need milk!” Sam chuckled again and waves his hand, sending a small shadow to retrieve some. “By the way would you be down to do some work tonight?”

“Tonight? Yeah, I can always use some extra cash.” The prefect was always so easy going. Guess they had to be in a place like this.

“Good. I'll apply your discount right now then!”

Heartslabyul

Your favorite Heartslabyul members have invited you to join them. Another Unbirthday party was to be hosted and the stars aligned today for the whole deck to help with the baking. It felt nice to be with them. They were like a family in a way, being with them felt like home. Alongside baking, there was some cooking being done too.

“Geez you really do like your eggs, huh?” Cater asked the spade who stirred his chopsticks with precision. He is determined to make the perfect tornado omelet.

“Oh you have no idea.” Ace tsked. “Whenever we go out to a restaurant it's the only thing he orders.”

“Not true!” Deuce's interjection wasn't as strong as it usually is, much to focused on his creation. “Yeah only if they dont offer any.” Ace retorts.

“Grim, it is unsanitary to touch the batter,” Riddle breaks up the impending argument to chide the direbeast ‘helping’ him stir, “Trey how many egg yolks do I add?”

“Three. You sure got it Riddle?” Riddle pouts a bit. He knows he got a shell in the batter last time but he's trying! “I'll get it right this time, you can count on it.”

“Ooh, give the egg whites to Deuce if you aren't using them!” Deuce mutters a thank you to Cater as he finishes up his omelet. “Does anyone else want one?”

No’s resound across the kitchen aside from you and Grim which makes Deuce smile. “Alright, what kind do you want Yuu? I'm still unsure on what kind you prefer.” Deuce looks a little embarrassed at not knowing despite how long you've been friends.

Before anyone could tease Deuce, Trey asks the worst question he possibly could without knowing. “Actually how do you like your eggs in the morning, Yuu? I rarely see you eat breakfast in the cafeteria.”

You pause for a moment, the pan you were greasing slipping slightly. Then you chuckled. “That's very bold of you Trey, I never expected you of all people to say that… But judging by everyone else's reaction, I assume it doesn't mean anything here?”

“Oh? Does it mean something different where you from?” Riddle asks, looking over at you. “It does actually.” Cater looks up from his phone he was reading the recipe from, noticing your amused expression. “What else could possibly it mean though?” You hold in a laugh. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to bring it up but you can't help it.

“Is that so? I sure hope I didn't say anything offensive. What does it mean?” Poor Trey; he chuckles as he decorates one of the finished cakes not knowing the storm that's brewing.

“You essentially just propositioned me in front of everyone.” The whole kitchen is silent as they stare at you. Trey looks flustered and confused out of his mind as an abundance of frosting squirts out of the bag. “I… pardon?”

Ace speaks first “Huh?! How does that make sense?”

“Proposition? What does that mean?”

“Don't worry about it Grim.” says the diamond. “Still that seems far fetched, it's rude of you to mess with Trey like that you know!”

“I'm not lying! It's actually what it means!” Trey is adjusting his glasses now, embarrassment growing. Riddle looks horrified, trying to find his words. He's trying to rack his brain for a response before deciding to ask about it. His voice comes out a little hesitant and unsure. “Are eggs part of some sort of courtship in your world…?”

“Um… sort of..?” At your words Deuce pales. Ace takes this opportunity to be a little shit per usual. “Wow! Seems like you have a chance then, Deucy!”

“Oh shut it Ace! Wait, have I been propositioning you this whole time?!” His face is red and he's hiding in his hands. He has offered so many egg dishes over the years. Oh God he must have made you so uncomfortable— this isn't what an honor student would do!

“I still don't know what that means…” Grim grumbles.

“No no! Offering eggs is fine, it's just that particular phrase has very different connotations in my world.”

Ace is snickering at the whole situation, but especially at Deuce’s panic. He's also just as confused, however. Trey finally has the courage to speak. “Um, how exactly does that mean…” He trails off, defeated. “I'm sorry Yuu, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you too much…”

“Okay, but how exactly does that mean that?”

“Yeah I'm with Cater on this one…” Ace adds.

“Enlighten me.” Riddle puts his hands on his hips, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“So… When someone asks that they essentially mean to say they're gonna invite you to spend the night with them and cook you breakfast in the morning.” Trey looks even more embarrassed but so does Riddle.

“So it's a sleepover? That's it?” Grim asks just to be waived off by Cater again who vibrating with laughter.

“That's a pretty convoluted way of asking…” Deuce looks to the side, also a little flustered. “Yeah it makes no sense for me either, and I'm from that world, but that is what it means…”

“Wow so Trey really is bold!” Cater snickers as Ace joins in with a “I never knew you had it in you.”

“Enough with this vulgar talk!” Riddle commands, clearly demanding the conversation to be over.

“I am never gonna live this down aren't I?”

Leona Kingscholar

I am gonna nerd a lil abt aztec mythology rn and I'm not apologizing

Herbivore is what he called you. It was meant to be an insult but you never took offense. There is no other creature that fights harder than prey that is fighting for their life or backed into a corner. If anything it was a compliment. You've seen how hard they can fight.

Yet today Leona took the title further. “You are honestly like a little rabbit. All this confidence and attitude, yet harmless.” You raised a brow at him. “Thank you.”

Leona's eyes shift ever so slightly. “You're taking it as a compliment?” You tilt your head. “I assume rabbit in this world is synonymous with fragility here…? Odd. They're a symbol of warriors back in my world.”

“Is that so?” Leona speaks boredly, but he doesn't excuse himself or tell you to shut up. “Yeah, rabbits are these mighty warriors that are completely invincible. Children of one of the 5 sin gods too. Nothing can kill them. Centzon Tōtōchtin are no joke. Odd how they're considered weak here.”

You think for a moment. “But they are known to be constantly drunk all the time and play around, so I guess that could be an insult…” Leona just rubs his head. “Take it however you want…”

Kalim al-Asim

“Look at all the stars!” Kalim exclaims, pointing up at the sky. He lands his carpet along the sand dunes, eyes full of wonder. He then looks to you with bated breath, waiting for your reaction.

“It's beautiful…” You whisper, overlooking the patterns of stars decorating the night sky. It was straight out of a painting, vast and whimsical. Kalim was glowing at your happiness. “Aaah, I'm glad you like it! I was hoping you would!”

You lean back against the ground. Shooting stars dart across the sky along the twinkling lights in a beautiful display. Your eyes land on the moon, admiring how different it was from your own.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?” You freeze for a moment. “Haha, careful saying that to people from my world Kalim, not that you'll be running into anyone else from there anytime soon…”

Kalim looks over to you, brows slightly furrowed. “Eh? What do you mean?” You look back up the moon again. “Saying ‘the moon looks beautiful tonight’ where I’m from means I love you.” There's a moment of silence as Kalim ponders.

“Well then the moon looks beautiful tonight! I love all of my friends!” Kalim grins at you, fist pumped to his chest.

“It's not like that, Kalim. It's for romantic feelings. Funny, since coming here I've had a lot of experiences that would be considered flirtatious in my word…” You laugh a bit before a small frown appears on your features but Kalim snaps you out if it.

“So what you're saying is… it's a love confession?” His eyes are glimmering, the moon reflecting on them beautifully.

“You got it.”

“Then the moon looks beautiful tonight.”

Jamil Viper

So in TWST the languages aren't called the same thing in our world but I couldn't figure out the language of the Scalding Sands so I made one up. Can be a psuedo-prequel to my other fic Missing Yuu. It can be read here!

“Your Arabic is so similar yet so different than my world's version” Jamil pauses his mumbling and hums in question. “Arabic?”

“It's a language where I'm from. It sounds very similar to yours. Like I swear it could be some sort of dialect of it.”

“Scaldic, you mean?” You nod looking over at him from where you lay in his bed. “Is that what it's called? It's a pretty language.” Jamil messes with the stereo in his room, taking out an old CD and browsing for another he wanted to show you. “Maybe once you get more comfortable in this language, I can teach you a bit.”

“That would be lovely, thanks Jamil” As the sounds of shuffling continue from his search and you absentmindedly mess with your necklace before sitting up. “Wait! I know!”

Jamil perks and turns to you, watching as you start to take off your necklace. “Here put this on, you've shown me so much music from your world, let me show you some from mine!”

You offer the necklace over, shaking it a little for encouragement. Jamil takes it gently and examines the necklace. He lifts up his hair and slips it on, feeling a warmth on his chest from where the mirror lay.

You speak, and Jamil braces against the weird feeling of the necklace warping your glitched gibberish from your throat into his native language. “Can you hear me?” The words echoed in his head a bit. He took a moment to fully process them as they reverberated in his head.

He almost replies in his native tongue, but the amulet compels him to speak another language. Your language.“Yes, I can.” He replies, slurring a bit as he feels his words echo and warp. Strange… he knows what he's saying but he can't understand it.

“You have an accent, well that makes sense…” You chuckle a bit as he sits beside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. “I never thought about how the enchantments on these worked. I assumed that it would be instant. Is this what it's like for you?”

“Crowley said it would probably be different for me cause I'm not from this world. See why I ask you to repeat things all the time? … thanks for not getting too annoyed with that by the way.”

You tap away on your phone for a moment. “Here we go, I got some songs in Arabic for you, look.” Jamil watches you press play and takes in the music. It was ethereal, so different yet so similar to his worlds. Uncanny yet compelling. Then the lyrics start and he furrows his brows.

“It really is like Scaldic.” he replies, closing his eyes. “Its like if I focus hard enough I can hear it in my own language, but I cant.”

“See what I mean?” Jamil nods. “I think I'm picking up some words though, but there's no guarantee the meaning is the same.”

“Yeah it's how I feel all the time here… its frustrating at times. Oddly enough there are some words that stay the same, mostly food for example. Like mahalabia or horchata for example.”

“Huh, odd how that works…” the music coursing through his body invigorates him. He can imagine all the potential ways to move to this.

“Yeah. And it's the same dish too— well sort of. It tastes so similar yet so different. I miss my world's food, but I'm slowly forgetting the taste of it. Its just vauge memory.” Jamil peers over to the saddened expression on your face. He never even considered that part of being from another world.

“... How about we listen to your music while cooking, then? I'm sure we can make something that tastes like home.” Your face brightens. “That sounds nice.”

Vil Schoenheit

“Thank you for putting up with my accent, it must be annoying to deal with.” You sip on the tea he offered you, trying your best to abide by the manners in this world. Vil merely looked at you.

“It's not annoying at all. Your accent is fine just the way it is.” He almost seemed disappointed by the insinuation.

“Ah… Sorry I just saw that Epel’s usually not allowed to use his accent around you, so I assumed I shouldn't either.” Vil sighs.

“That's different. You have already proven yourself strong and beautiful enough to be who you are. Epel on the other hand needs to learn to accept himself for who he is first before he can truly be the person he wants to be. He must prove to me he can love himself as he is. If I hated accents, I wouldn't have let Rook speak in his."

“Ah I see… Thank you.” It wasn't everyday that you get praise from the Vil Schoenheit. “Your speech has improved, though I may point out there are some words you may need to work on. Your accent may make it sound like you are talking about something else entirely. Hmm…”

You hold your breath as he thinks. “I want you to grow into the best spudling you can be, so how about you take voice lessons from me?” Vil seems to smirk at your surprised expression. “From you..?”

Vil nods. “Yes. This way you can grow more confident in your speech and vocabulary. That voice of yours is beautiful, it just needs to be tuned.” You look at your tea then to him. “I accept.”

#twisted wonderland x reader #dire crowley x reader #mozus trein x reader #twst sam x reader #divus crewel x reader #ashton vargas x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey clover x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade x reader #twst grim x reader #leona kingsholar x reader #kalim al asim x reader #jamil viper x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #disney twst #twisted wonderland

5K notes · View notes

kanaria-a · 4 days ago

Text

❝Ah, a moment's ballad still remains distinctly. Surely I'm not lonely!❞

In which, you’ve fallen to a sleep spell, and only a kiss can wake you…(part one)

ft. Riddle Rosehearts, Ace Trappola & Deuce Spade, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond

$RIDDLE —

There is a garden, hidden deep in the heart of Night Raven College. Not one marked on any map, nor spoken of in corridors. It exists only in the spaces between rules, in the corners of ancient tomes and whispered stories. And at its center, there you lie—still as marble, quiet as stars, untouched by time. Sleeping. Cursed. Your slumber is the stuff of legend now, woven into the fabric of school gossip and mystery. Some say you offended a fae spirit during a duel. Others claim you found an ancient relic in the library’s forbidden section and dared to read it aloud. But the truth—what little of it Riddle Rosehearts knows—sits heavy on his heart. You had been his friend. Perhaps more. Perhaps far more than he’d ever let himself say aloud. And now, you are lost to a silence that cannot be broken by sound or will. Except, they say, by love’s kiss. Riddle had scoffed at that, once. He did not believe in things as fickle and irrational as fairytale magic. But belief, like rules, can be bent—especially when it is you lying behind a veil of enchantment, your chest rising and falling with the slow rhythm of a dream you cannot escape. He stands beside you now. The air in the garden is warm and perfumed with roses, though no breeze stirs their petals. The sky above is suspended in eternal dusk, as if the world itself is waiting. Riddle brushes a stray leaf from your hair, his fingers hovering just above your skin. "You always did find trouble where no one else thought to look," he murmurs, voice low. He’s not even sure why he’s here, not fully. This place—it isn’t part of his routine, his order, his system. But something inside him has drawn him to you over and over. He’s come in the early morning when dew clung to the hedges, and late at night when moonlight glinted on your lashes. He’s spoken to you, softly, when no one else could hear. He’s apologized for not being able to protect you, even though you never asked him to. And now… now, there is nothing left to say. Except— “I don’t believe in fairy tales,” he says, and his voice wavers for the first time. But his heart does.

Perhaps it always has, beneath the layers of discipline and decree. Riddle leans closer. His breath catches. You lie still, serene, your features relaxed in a way he’s never quite seen before. Peaceful. Unreachable. He knows the stories. He knows what must be done. It is absurd. Sentimental. Entirely irrational. But he leans in anyway. His lips brush yours—a whisper, no more than a thought given shape. It lasts only a second, barely that. And when he pulls away, he holds his breath, waiting for disappointment to settle like dust. Nothing happens. And then— You stir. Your eyelids flutter. Your fingers twitch, slow and unsure, as though remembering the sensation of movement. A quiet sound escapes your throat, hoarse with disuse. Riddle’s heart stutters. You blink once, then again, and your gaze—unfocused, hazy—finds him. He is frozen, afraid to speak. Afraid to hope. “…Riddle?” Your voice is soft, confused. “Is it morning already?” The sound of your name—your voice—nearly undoes him. He exhales shakily. “You— You’re awake.” You sit up slowly, looking around the unfamiliar garden. Then your eyes return to him, narrowing slightly. “Wait. How long was I asleep?” He clears his throat. “Long enough for Grim to be considered punctual by comparison.” You stare at him. He glances aside, red blooming across his cheeks. “You were cursed. A magical slumber. We tried everything. And… I…” You tilt your head, amused despite the fog still lifting from your mind. “You kissed me, didn’t you?” His shoulders stiffen. “It was necessary! The spell required a— I mean, they said— It was the only option remaining.” You smile, teasing. “So you do believe in fairy tales now.” Riddle looks deeply scandalized. “Absolutely not.” You raise an eyebrow. “You did just kiss a sleeping person in a magical garden.” He falters. “I— That is— The logic behind the curse’s mechanics was—” You touch his hand, gently. He stops. The garden is still, but warmer now. The scent of roses sharpens, blooming with life. Time has begun to move again. “I’m glad it was you,” you say quietly. Riddle looks at you, truly looks, and you see it—the worry that never left him, the guilt he buried beneath rules, the affection he dared not name. He bows his head, voice soft. “So am I.” The rules can wait. Logic can rest. For now, in this garden of suspended time, there is only the truth neither of you needs to speak aloud.

$ACE & DEUCE —

In hindsight, letting Ace and Deuce mess around with alchemy supplies was a bad idea. But you were tired, the classroom was warm, and they swore it was “just a simple energy potion.” Now you’re unconscious. Face-down on a beanbag in the Ramshackle common room, snoring lightly. Peaceful. Too peaceful. “…Okay,” Ace says, standing over your motionless body, “so this is maybe a little worse than last time.” “A little?!” Deuce hisses. “You said you read the label!” “I did! Mostly!” Deuce grabs the empty flask from the floor and squints at it. “This is in cursive.” “Cursive is readable!” “Not if it’s in ancient Briar Valley incantation script, Ace!” Ace groans, kneeling beside you. “Okay, okay, but this is fixable. They’re not dead.” You snore in response. “See?” he says, poking your cheek gently. “Just asleep.” “Magically asleep,” Deuce corrects, nervously pacing now. “You know what that means, right? Magical slumber? That’s classic fairytale territory. We need a cure.” Ace snaps his fingers. “Right! In those old books, the prince always wakes them up with a kiss.” Deuce blinks. “Seriously? That’s your plan?” Ace shrugs. “Hey, it works in the stories.” “That’s fiction, Ace!” “Yeah, but they also didn’t believe in magic carpets and ghost cats either, and here we are.” You twitch slightly. A flower petal, dislodged from your hair, floats gently to the floor. Deuce pales. “Okay. Okay, say you’re right. Let’s say—just theoretically—that’s the cure. Then… who’s gonna do it?” Ace turns to him, smirking. “You offering, Spade?” “What?! No! I mean—should I?” Ace raises an eyebrow. “You want to?” Deuce sputters. “I mean, I don’t not want to, but I don’t want to steal your chance—wait, do you want to?” Ace scratches the back of his head, suddenly less smug. “Well, I mean… we’re all kinda close, right? I wouldn’t mind…” They both glance at you. Still out cold. Deuce folds his arms. “Maybe we flip a coin.” “A coin? Really?” “Rock, paper, scissors?” Ace sighs. “This is so dumb.” They both look at you again. You do not react. “…They’re kinda cute like this,” Deuce says quietly. “Yeah,” Ace mutters. “Peaceful. Not yelling at us for once.” “Probably dreaming of doing it, though.” Ace snorts. “Yeah. With a megaphone.” Another pause. “…So,” Deuce says. “What if we both… y’know…” “What, kiss at the same time?” Ace blinks. “That’s weird, dude.” “Well, it’s weirder to argue while they’re still cursed!” “I’m just saying, we need a plan!” A long beat. “Okay,” Ace says finally. “Rock, paper, scissors. Best of one. Winner wakes ‘em up.” Deuce nods. They square up. “Rock… paper… scissors—shoot!” Deuce throws paper. Ace throws scissors. He freezes. “Oh.” “Guess you’re up,” Deuce says, sounding both nervous and vaguely disappointed. Ace glances at you. Then back at Deuce. “…Wanna… do it together?” Deuce stares. Ace scratches his cheek. “I mean, it’s not like they’re gonna remember who did it. Right? Just a little, tiny, barely-there kiss. Bam, they wake up, yell at us, we all move on.” Deuce blushes. “O-Okay. Just—just once. And quick!” They kneel beside you. Ace nudges your shoulder gently. “Okay, partner. Time to rise and shine…” You feel two nervous presences hovering very close. Something brushes your forehead. It’s warm. Awkward. A little clumsy. And then— A jolt. Like a thread snapping back into place. Your eyes flutter open. Two faces are hovering inches above yours. “…Why are you both red?” you croak. Deuce immediately falls backward. Ace tries to play it cool. “Ah! You’re awake! Just like I said would happen!” You sit up slowly. “What… happened?” “Great news,” Ace says, inching away, “you were totally fine! Just a mild alchemy nap!” “Magically-induced slumber,” Deuce corrects, still flat on the floor. “We may have kissed you.” Ace elbows him. “May have?! We definitely saved the day, thank you very much!” You stare at them. Slowly. “So you cursed me… then kissed me to fix it.” “To be fair,” Ace says brightly, “only one of those was on purpose.” You throw a pillow at him. He deserves it. Deuce hides behind a beanbag.

But even as you grumble, rubbing sleep from your eyes, you catch the worried glances they sneak you. The relief they aren’t even trying to hide. “…Thanks,” you mutter, finally. They blink. Ace grins. “Anytime, Sleeping Beauty.” You throw another pillow. They both deserve that one too.

$CATER DIAMOND —

In your defense, you didn’t mean to fall asleep mid-spell. In Cater’s defense, he didn’t mean for the spell to hit you. …Okay, maybe someone was a little too focused on getting the perfect angle for his Magicam story to notice the warning on the incantation scroll labeled “Do Not Cast Without Full Concentration or You Might Put Someone Into a Hundred-Year Nap.” But the lighting was really good. Now, you’re slumped on the dorm couch like a mannequin in a dream, arms folded, expression serene, completely and utterly out cold. And Cater is panicking. “Okay, okay, stay calm, me,” he mutters, pacing in frantic circles, ring-laden fingers tangled in his hair. “They’re just napping. Probably. Power nap vibes, right? Just a quick snooze! Haha! Please wake up...” You don’t move. You don’t even twitch. He kneels beside you and pokes your cheek gently. “Hey, sunshine… if you wake up now, I’ll delete that cursed pic I caught of you with whipped cream on your nose. Deal?” Silence. Cater freezes. “…You love bribery. That always works.” Nothing. “Oh no oh no oh no—okay, time for damage control.” He whips out his phone and furiously scrolls through a few bookmarked resources, muttering under his breath. “Sleep curse… Briar Valley enchantment, blah blah blah… Oh, here it is! Classic reversal spell: ‘Can only be undone by a kiss from someone with genuine feelings for the victim.’” He stares at the screen. Then stares at you. Then back at the screen. “…Well, that’s awkward.” He stands and paces again, eyes wild. “I mean… what even counts as genuine feelings?! Like, does respect count? Friendly affection? I like them, okay? They’re cute! But is that enough? I’m not, like, writing sonnets over here!” You, tragically, do not respond. He crouches beside you again, more carefully this time. Brushes a bit of lint from your collar. “…You know,” he murmurs, quieter now, “you’re usually the one talking sense into me. Or teasing me when I go overboard. Or calling me out when I’m two filters deep into a selfie spiral.” He chuckles, the sound soft and nervous. “Now you’re just… quiet.” His fingers hesitate near your hand, then wrap gently around it. “I don’t really do real feelings. Too messy, too clingy, too scary, right? But with you… it’s never felt like that. Just easy.” Your breathing is steady. Peaceful. Beautifully annoying in how unbothered it is. “I’m probably overthinking this. But,” he pauses, biting his lip, “if you were awake, you’d definitely be roasting me for dragging it out.” He leans forward slowly. “Okay,” he whispers. “One kiss. For magic. Not because I want to. Just for spell-breaking purposes. Purely practical.” He kisses you—soft and quick, more like a promise than a declaration. And just like that—your eyes flutter open. “…Did you just kiss me?” you croak, voice raspy with sleep. Cater jerks back so fast he nearly falls over the coffee table. “I—NO—I mean—YES—but also—HI! You’re awake!!” You blink, disoriented. “Why do I taste strawberry lip balm?” “No clue!” he says too quickly. “Definitely not mine!” You sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes. “What happened?” “Okay, so… there may have been a teeny, tiny spell accident. But good news!” He flashes jazz hands. “I fixed it!” “With your mouth?” “Do not phrase it like that.” You give him a long, flat look. “Did you read the instructions after the spell hit me?” He winces. “...Define ‘after.’” You groan and flop backward onto the couch again. He leans over you, grinning now that the panic has worn off. “Hey, silver lining—you got some beauty sleep, I got a whole fairytale moment, and nobody’s cursed anymore.” You narrow your eyes. “Cater.” “Yeah?” “Did you take a selfie while I was unconscious?” He grins wider. “Delete it.” “Rude! I looked amazing in that lighting!” “Delete it.” He sighs dramatically but holds his phone up in surrender. “Fine, fine. Guess I’ll just treasure the memory instead.” You throw a pillow at him. He dodges. But he’s still smiling. And for once, there’s no filter needed.

$TREY —

The kitchen is quiet now, save for the distant ticking of the Heartslabyul clock tower and the occasional hum of an enchanted tea kettle keeping itself warm. Trey hadn’t planned to spend his evening here, but after what happened—after you fell into that unnatural sleep—he couldn’t bear to sit still in his room. Not while you were still lying there in the lounge, unmoving, untouched by sound, sunlight, or reason. He’s not sure when it happened. One minute you were taste-testing an experimental tart recipe, and the next, your fingers loosened around the teacup, your body slumping gently, as though someone had simply whispered “rest” into your ear and you’d obeyed without resistance. The spell was instantaneous. Gentle. Silent. And wholly unplanned. Trey had called for help, of course. Checked the label on the spice blend he used, flipped through several enchanted cookbooks, even sent a long and slightly frantic message to Professor Crewel. It was Grim, of all people, who casually muttered the phrase *“like Sleeping Beauty or whatever”*—and the idea clicked into place with an uneasy sense of inevitability. A sleep spell tied to emotional resonance. Romantic in nature. Only reversible through a kiss. A sincere one. Trey hadn’t believed it at first. But then he looked at you again. The stillness of your expression. The fragile fall of your hair against the velvet cushion. The tiny furrow in your brow, like you were on the edge of waking. Waiting. He hadn’t intended to be the one. Surely someone else—someone you actually thought of that way—should do it. He wasn’t oblivious to your friendships, your laughter, the way you spoke with others. You were close. But not… not like that. Were you? He had never asked himself, never let himself dwell too long on the possibility. He was older. He was busy. He told himself you simply appreciated his baking, his steadiness, the small comforts he provided. That your fondness was the same as anyone’s—a warmth for someone reliable. Not a yearning. Not something *his* to answer. But when no one else stepped forward, when no one else *could*, he found himself leaning over you in that too-still room. He’d hesitated. He always did when it came to things that mattered. The kiss had been gentle. A moment of reverence more than romance. Just a press of hope. And then you’d stirred. You’d blinked, breathing slowly, asking in a hoarse voice what happened. He didn’t tell you everything. Not then. You were still waking. Still fragile from magic’s grip. But now—now he is here, in the kitchen, hands dusted with flour, staring down at another tart crust and wondering why the shape of your sleeping face keeps returning to his thoughts. The door creaks. He looks up. It’s you. Awake. Dressed in soft night clothes, hair slightly mussed, standing there with your arms crossed like you’re unsure if you’ve intruded. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asks. You nod. “Neither could I,” he admits. You step further inside. He gestures to the second stool. “I didn’t expect to see you on your feet so soon.” “Neither did I,” you reply with a faint smile. You watch him work for a moment, hands moving automatically as he presses a neat edge into the crust. “I remember it,” you say. “The kiss.” His hands pause. The kitchen stills. He doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “It wasn’t meant to be mine.” “But it worked,” you say. He nods. “That doesn’t mean it should’ve.” You hesitate. Then—softly—you say, “You really didn’t know, did you?” He finally meets your gaze. “Know what?” “That I’ve liked you for a while now.” There’s no drama in your voice. No teasing. Just honesty, placed gently between the two of you like a dish left to cool. Trey sets the dough aside. Wipes his hands on a towel. “I didn’t,” he admits. “I never assumed. You… you’re kind to everyone.” His breath catches. He looks down for a moment, as if grounding himself, then up again. His expression is unreadable. Then, slowly, warm.

“I suppose I owe Grim a thank-you,” he murmurs. You arch a brow. “For cursing me?” He chuckles. “For waking me up, actually.” You smile. And this time, it’s you who closes the space between you—no magic required.

WHY ARE THERE NO REQQQQS

#mx kanaria-vespa #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst wonderland #twst riddle #riddle rosehearts x reader #sleeping beauty au #twst trey #trey clover #trey clover x reader #ace trapolla x reader #deuce spade x reader #cater diamond x reader #do i look like a real boy papa

130 notes · View notes