#and he'd dance to it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ceruark · 4 months

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ensnared. (yandere! prince! sunday x gn! royalty! reader)

synopsis: prince sunday invites you to dance the entwine with him. if you evade capture, he’ll finally leave you alone. but if you get caught, you’re his forever. cw: general yandere themes - obsessive & possessive behavior, implied stalking words: 3,991 disclaimer/inspiration: the dance “The Entwine” is not my idea! it's from the novel Entwined by Heather Dixon, an all-time favorite of mine :)

“The Entwine, also known as the Gentleman’s Catch, is an amusing and challenging redowa suitable for accomplished partners. [...] Similar to a trois-temps waltz, it is danced in open position with a long sash. The lady and gentleman each take ends of the sash, which their hands must not leave. In a series of quick steps (see below) the gentleman either twists the sash around the lady’s wrists, pinning them (also known as the Catch), or the lady eludes capture within three minutes’ time. STEPS. Twist (35), Needle’s Eye (35), Dip and Turn (36), Lady’s Feint (36), Bridge Arc (36), Under-Arm Swoop (37), Thread (37), Beading the Sash (38), the Catch (38).”

Excerpt from Entwined by Heather Dixon

It has been a year since the queen died.

You stand in the grand ballroom of your palace for the first time since your mother's death. It seems dimmer without her, lacking the light her laughter brought to it. Every shift of skirts has you looking for her, only to be disappointed when you catch yourself seeking out a ghost.

She ruled alone for nearly fifteen years. After your father died in battle when you were young, many other kingdoms tried to swoop in after she became widowed. They vied for her hand in marriage so they could expand their territory and get their hands on the lucrative gemstones that are excavated from your land's caverns. But the queen was unshakable, and she refused to remarry, continuing to keep her kingdom safe and opulent all on her own.

And she died last winter, an incurable sickness settling in her lungs seemingly overnight and stealing her final breath within the week.

You hardly had time to mourn her. With no one sitting on the throne, your mother's advisory court scrambled to find you a suitor so that you could marry and be crowned as soon as possible. There hadn't been a rush to find you one, but with the queen's sudden death, they need to get you on the throne before someone else came along to seize it.

Tonight, Welt— formerly your mother's personal advisor— had declared while you prepared for the ball. Tonight, we will find you a suitor. You will be coronated by summer.

You sigh as your gaze sweeps over the ballroom. Truthfully, you have no interest in any of the attendants. Most of them don't have anything noteworthy about their personalities, and those that do are individuals you've mentally decided are best kept at arm's length. You’re certain that more than half your selection pool were invited out of courtesy; none of them possess enough influence or value for your mother's advisory court to approve of a marriage between the two of you.

Except for one.

Penacony's beloved prince has been pursuing you for as long as you could remember. It started off innocent, a mere childhood crush. Long before you were adolescents, he would pluck flowers from the centerpiece vases on ballroom tables and hand them to you, ever the gentleman. You can still remember the sound of whichever court member was assigned to look after you cooing at the sight, endeared as you accepted the flower from his hands and spent the rest of the night at his side, discussing all the important matters that plagued the minds of young royalty.

And then, things changed.

As you two grew older, something about him shifted— you couldn't quite explain it. It made your skin crawl, the way his gaze trailed you throughout the ballroom, the way his fingers lingered just a little too long when he kissed your hand in greeting, the way anyone you shared mutual romantic interest with started avoiding you like the plague the second he heard of your budding relationship. There was something off about him— about his infatuation with you— and you distanced yourself from him as much as possible over the years.

Your mother's advisory court had been furious; they believed your eventual marriage to Sunday was set in stone given how taken you were with each other as children, and they planned for a prosperous future backed by Penacony's enormous and infinite wealth. They took your refusal to interact with him as rebellion and scoffed at your explanations, but luckily, you weren't alone in your suspicions. Your mother and Welt were also unsettled by the way he looked at you at formal gatherings, and your mother swiftly shut down her court's insistences on you trying to make amends with Penacony's prince.

We have no need for marriages of convenience. My child's happiness and safety will be valued above all else, she told them, and it was the end of the discussion.

Welt has upheld her and your wishes following her death, but the rest of the court are more willing to challenge him than they'd been to challenge the queen. Multiple court members have pestered you about marrying Sunday, stating that he would readily agree; you would get on the throne quickly, and the kingdom would prosper with his empire’s assets. Though they drop the topic the second you snap at them, you can tell they're still scheming, pulling at whatever strings they can to bring the prince back into your favor and push you into his arms.

And the undeniable proof of that stands across the room, piercing you with his golden eyes. Of course he's among the guests the court selected for you to choose your partner from. What else could you expect from them?

You sigh and swipe a glass of wine off a nearby table. It's going to be an incredibly long night.

As you sip at the bitter liquid and eye the blonde prince from Belobog, a familiar voice sounds behind you. "Something troubles you, Your Highness."

You turn around, relaxing at the sight of your faithful personal advisor. Veritas gazes down at you, face as neutral as ever.

"Someone," you respond, a frown tugging at your lips. "It appears the court is still refusing to let go of their little delusion."

He glances over your shoulder and hums noncommittally. "It appears so."

You swirl the red wine around in your glass, continuing your sweep of the guests. Certainly, Belobog's prince seemed like your best option right now. Albeit easily flustered, he was sweet and courageous— you would be able to fall for him given the time.

"Gepard Landau?" Veritas asks, his gaze having followed yours to the man standing beside his sister and her wife.

You look up, meeting his doubtful gaze. "Do you see any better options?"

He takes another glance around the room, then grimaces. You bring your hand to your mouth, covering your sudden laugh.

"Though he may be the most respectable of your options, there is not much Belobog can offer you." He tilts his head, still staring out at the crowd. "I suggest you reconsider."

You flash him a tight, sarcastic smile. "If that is the standard you suggest I go by, then my options are narrowed down to Aventurine and Sunday."

You get along fine with the blonde lord hailing from IPC territory, and he possesses charm like no other. He's gotten you more flustered than any other suitor has, but you know it's all fake. Something lurks beneath his picture-perfect exterior, and he keeps his cards too close to his chest for you to guess what his true intentions are. Someone like that can't be good news for you.

Veritas sighs. "I suppose Landau will have to do, then."

A flurry of movement and fabric draws your gaze to the dance floor. You light up as you watch two figures dance in the center of the crowd, one ducking and dodging out of reach while the other tries with fervor to capture them in their arms.

They've finally brought out the silk sashes used to dance the Entwine.

Your Entwine record is exemplary. When dancing as the gentleman, there were only a handful of people you hadn't been able to catch— Aventurine being one of them. Though your record dancing as gentleman is flawed, your skill when dancing as lady is unmatched and known far and wide.

In all your years, you have never been caught during a dance.

"Wonderful," you say, adrenaline rushing through your veins. You could already feel the exhilaration that came with successful capture and evasion. You turn to your advisor, eyes glistening beneath the lights. "Veritas, would you be so kind as to humor me with a dance?"

You think it's the light playing tricks on your eyes when he flushes red. Before he can respond, though, Welt strides up to the two of you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

"Perhaps you could get to know your potential suitors better through the Entwine, no?" The man you've come to think of as a father figure smiles down at you, the corners of his eyes creasing as he does. "You enjoy it so much, hopefully it can be used to bring you closer to someone— both literally and figuratively speaking."

Your smile matches his. "I think that's a great idea."

"Perfect." Welt turns toward the dance floor. "Allow me to announce—"

He stops dead in his tracks, freezing just in time to prevent himself from walking into someone. He backs up, and your blood runs cold at the sight left behind.

Sunday stands before you, pristine as ever, with a silver sash draped over his arm.

Welt finds his voice before you do. "Prince Oak," he greets, dipping his head into a bow. "A pleasure to see you again. We are very grateful for your attendance."

Sunday looks at him. The fond expression he had fixed on you smooths out into his perfect half-smile. He nods at Welt in acknowledgement. "Imperial Advisor Yang." He turns to your left, appearing less enthused to greet Veritas. "Imperial Advisor Ratio."

His eyes land on you again, and a chill runs down your spine. You force a polite smile onto your face, bowing your head slightly. "Prince Oak. An honor to see you again."

He sounds breathless when he responds. "The honor is all mine."

When his gaze starts to grow heavy on your shoulders, Welt clears his throat. He eyes the fabric hanging off of Sunday's arm. "I suppose you are here with... intent, yes?"

"Correct," Sunday says. He glances down at the silk, reaching up to pinch a part of it between his fingers.

He meets your eyes again, his face imperceptible. It's more terrifying than his openly longing and lingering gaze.

"I wish to dance the Entwine with you," he says, voice diplomatic and devoid of emotion. "If you are willing."

You clench your hands behind your back. "Will you be dancing gentleman or lady?"

"Gentleman." He pauses, voice lowering a bit. "I wish to try and catch you."

You smother a scowl before it can crawl its way onto your face. Of course he would want to dance as gentleman. How typical.

But there's something to his demeanor that tells you there's more to it than he's letting on. It's sitting on the tip of his tongue: his real intent behind asking you to dance with him.

"For what reason do you wish to dance with me?" In a quieter, harsher tone, you add, "Be honest with me, or I will refuse outright."

His fingers run over the fabric, smoothing out any wrinkles that snag them. He tilts his head to the side, and the desire that swims in his eyes leaves you shaking.

"If I catch you," he says slowly, "you will give me your hand in marriage."

Bile burns at the back of your throat, your anxiety clawing its way up and trying to escape. It's a bold declaration, especially when directed at someone who has never been caught before. Your faith in your skill is resolute, but the sheer desperation on his face is enough to make you hesitate.

Your voice trembles slightly when you speak. "And if you fail?"

He hums, flicking his gaze off to the side. "If I fail, I will never ask for it again."

You latch onto the statement like a moth to a flame. All you have to do is avoid capture— something you've done time and again— to get him to leave you alone. You've never seen him dance the Entwine, or show any interest in it; undoubtedly, your skill will lead you to successful evasion.

This is your chance to get him off your back, for good.

Before you can respond, a firm hand comes down on your shoulder, pulling you backward.

"Your Highness," Veritas whispers into your ear, barely contained urgency lacing his words. "Please consider this carefully. Is this a risk you are willing to take?"

You look up at him, eyebrows raised. "I have never been caught," you mutter back.

His brows pinch together. "There is a first time for everything, and you cannot afford to let this one be that time."

You clench your jaw and cast Sunday a sidelong glance. He stares back at you, his posture perfect and features serene despite the way his eyes drink you in, ravenous. There is, as always, truth to what Veritas is saying; you've never seen Sunday dance the Entwine, but that doesn't necessarily mean he doesn't know how, or that he isn't good at it. There's still a high chance you'll be able to evade him given your record, but the chance of him being able to successfully pull off the Catch, though small, is still a potential outcome that shouldn’t be overlooked.

After all, he wouldn't be asking you if the possibility was as slim as you believe it to be.

You bite your lip, hesitating. You look to Welt, pleading for direction. He locks eyes with you briefly, looking just as concerned as Veritas, before he steps forward and partially shields you from Sunday's view.

"Perhaps another time," he says, a polite grin finding its way onto his face. "We are just coming out of mourning, and though it is nice to be part of festivities again, perhaps dancing is still a bit too much for Our Highness right now— the late queen was very fond of the Entwine. Please understand."

Sunday's mask wavers, irritation seeping through the cracks at Welt's excuse. His sharp gaze cuts back to you, but you let your eyes drift back to the dance floor, refusing to meet it.

The tension is broken by the sound of clapping. You turn your head, frowning at the sight of a member of the advisory court approaching.

"Oh, how lovely!" She swoons, pressing a hand to her chest. Her face is flushed from the wine and she speaks loudly, drawing the ballroom's attention to the cluster of people around you. "Our Highness is going to dance the Entwine with Prince Oak!"

All eyes are on you. Your guests whisper to each other, their excitement tangible and filling the air with charged energy. A long time coming, they think to themselves, oblivious to the unfortunate predicament you've found yourself in. Sunday's affinity for you isn't a secret, especially not to the royal families who watched you two grow up at each other's side. To them, this dance is simply an age-old rumor finally coming into fruition, the first step toward solidifying your relationship with Sunday. And to the advisors scattered around the ballroom, watching you like hawks, it is their efforts finally paying off— the final nail in your coffin that will secure the future they envision for your kingdom.

Refusing him now, under countless pairs of hopeful eyes, would undoubtedly leave an ugly smear on your reputation and the integrity of your kingdom.

Your tongue sits dry and heavy in your mouth. You almost choke on it when Sunday's hand finds the small of your back, gently guiding you toward the dance floor. He practically preens under the attention and pressure. It makes you sick.

Another hand catches your elbow in a bruising grip, and you jolt back, only barely catching yourself to make it seem as though you tripped. You angle your body in a way that prevents the crowd from seeing Veritas's vice grip on your arm.

"My Highness has not agreed to anything yet," he bites out in a low whisper, venom dripping off his tongue.

Sunday's eyes snap to him. His scathing glare does nothing to deter your advisor, who glares back at him in response.

When he looks back to you, the deceptively serene look has returned. With the arm not holding the sash, he extends a hand out to you, tilting his head to the side in question. The guests closest to you all coo fondly.

There's a hint of a smirk on his face. "May I have this dance?"

You place a hand over Veritas's, gently prying his fingers from your arm. You can't bear to look at him right now. "It will be fine," you murmur. "I promise."

You run your hands along your sleeves, wiping off as much of the sweat as you can. You inhale shakily, trying to keep the ballroom tile beneath your feet from swimming.

You look up, a practiced, graceful smile tilting your lips upward. You delicately place your hand in his, suppressing a shudder when he brings it to his lips and presses it to them. The steadiness and strength in your voice surprises you when you say, "Of course, Prince Oak."

The ballroom erupts into a mixture of chatter and cheers. Court advisors pester the crowd surrounding the dance floor, ushering them back and trying to clear a pathway for the two of you. You swallow thickly as Sunday closes his hand around your trembling one.

You turn to Welt and gesture at his pocket with your free hand. "If you would be so kind, Advisor Welt."

He nods stiffly, reaching into his coat and producing a golden pocket watch. "Of course, Your Highness."

Your heart hammers against your ribcage as Sunday guides you to the dance floor. A numbness settles over you, and you robotically nod and smile at the guests that you pass. Their eyes shine with an adoration that you could never possess for this supposed relationship— for him.

Sunday releases your hand when you two reach the center of the dance floor. His eyes are dark as he holds one end of the sash out to you. You take it into your hands and back away from him, toward the other end of the floor. Sunday does the same, and you both stop when the sash is pulled so taught that it tugs you a few steps forward.

The familiar fabric and set-up do little to comfort you.

The crowd shifts again, and Welt emerges from it, standing front and center before the dance floor. He holds the pocket watch up to his face, and your breath hitches with anticipation.

"Your three minutes begins..." His voice reverberates off the ballroom walls, resounding clearly over the jubilant tune the orchestra plays.

"Now."

Adrenaline shoots through you like lightning, and you fly into motion. Your vision sharpens, focused in on every movement Sunday makes as you analyze the arc of his arms and the force behind his tugs on the sash. With each under-arm swoop, you dip beneath his arms and twirl away from him with ease, the steps of the dance coming to you the way breathing does.

He's an adept dancer, you'll give him that. Perhaps if his partner was anyone else, he would have already caught them already, within the first minute of the dance. But you are untouchable on an average night, and on this one in particular, you push yourself past your limits, propelled forward by a fervor and desperation to evade his every attempt of entangling you in his arms.

Twist. Needle's Eye.

"Two minutes," Welt calls out.

Approaching another under-arm swoop, you glance at Sunday's face just in time to see displeasure flicker across it at Welt's announcement. As you glide away from him once more, unfurling the sash between you two, he gives it a sharp tug, causing you to stumble a bit and lose your footing. Your heart skips a beat, but you quickly recover, forcing your limbs to move faster and smoother and match the rapid tempo he has now set for the dance.

Sweat beads along your upper lip as you duck under Sunday's arms repeatedly. You're managing just fine, but you've never had to push yourself this hard before; keeping a close eye on his movements while making sure the sash doesn't get tangled around your wrists is a delicate balancing act, and you can feel yourself teetering back and forth, dangerously close to falling off.

He's a far more formidable partner than you could have ever imagined.

Dip and Turn. Lady's Feint.

"One minute."

Sunday furiously yanks on the sash mid-twirl, and you stagger forward. The sash wraps around your wrists once, twice— three times before you regain your footing and lean back, narrowly avoiding Sunday's sweeping arm that almost hooks around your own.

A chorus of gasps ripples through the crowd at your near capture. It worsens your fraying nerves.

You exhale with exertion, trembling on unsteady legs as Sunday raises the stakes yet again. The tempo he sets is merciless, and your body is jostled between the last of your will and the harsh tugs from the other end of the sash. You grit your teeth. The silk digs tighter into your flesh and sends pinpricks of pain up your arms with each snap of his wrists.

Bridge Arc. Under-Arm Swoop.

"Thirty seconds."

The speed at which you weave in and out of spins leaves you dizzy, nauseous. The ballroom melts into incomprehensible shapes and colors around you. You bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, a pitiful attempt to ground yourself so you won't trip up.

You do anyway; Sunday's movements are too fluid and swift to keep up with.

The sash binds around your wrists five more times, bringing you even closer to him— too close. You're not sure if it's skill, luck, or sheer force of will that allows you to continue to dodge his attempts at ensnaring you, but you know that you shouldn't be able to do it at this distance.

Frustration peeks through his graceful disposition. His golden eyes trail you, chasing after you as you elude his grasp once more.

Thread. Beading the Sash.

"Fifteen seconds."

You throw yourself into another dip, eyes locked onto the floor just beyond the arm obscuring your line of vision.

If you dodge this one, you'll be free.

Sunday lifts his arms suddenly and pulls, bringing the sash as far back as he can without letting go. Your arms twist in the air behind your back. A strangled gasp leaves you as you lose your footing. In a whirl of fabric, you stagger backward, away from the other side of his outstretched arm.

The Catch.

Your back slams into something solid, and before you can process what has happened, a firm arm snakes itself around your waist, pulling you flush against the body behind you. Your hands, still bound together, dig into your collarbone, suspended at an awkward angle from the sash held above you.

The crowd erupts into noise.

In front of you, a little girl pulls on her mother's sleeve and points in your direction. "Mommy, he caught Our Highness!"

Behind them, Veritas stares at you, petrified and speechless.

Snapping out of your stunned stupor feels like coming up for air after almost drowning. You suck in a shuddering breath and writhe, yanking your arms against the sash and leaning forward, futilely trying to escape. Sunday gathers the last of the fabric in his hands and gives it another sharp tug, keeping you in place against him.

He lowers his head, and his lips brush over your ear as he speaks. "Magnificent," he whispers. His voice rumbles with pleasure, almost to the point of purring. "You are truly a talented dancer."

"Let me go," you rasp out. You're physically exhausted, and your racing, panicked heart prevents you from catching your breath.

Sunday hums again, bringing the hand holding the sash to brush your cheek gently. "Why would I do that?" He chuckles softly, and it's so genuine— not the slightest bit mocking— that it leaves you all the more unsettled. "I caught you."

He brings his arm down, settling it around your waist. His fingers brush over your bound hands, and he presses a tender kiss to your cheek.

"You're finally mine."

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yuri-is-online · 6 months

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Can I request a kind of song fic? You know the song national anthem? The part where it says "red, white, blue is in the sky. Summers in the air, and baby heavens in your eyes". Can I have that with the first 3 dorms? Love your writing!

The familiar tone of cicadas and flushing greens bring about a stereotypical image of summer, and with it the reality of nearly a full year away from your world. No one has said it out loud yet, but it really does look like Twisted Wonderland is going to be your forever home, so it really is time you start thinking about what you want your future to look like...

And someone really seems to want a staring role in it.

I don't listen to Lana at all so I spent a brief moment wondering why someone was requesting I do a song fic based on the American National Anthem. Anyway I listened to the song a few times and came up with an idea, and then another, and another and I am so sorry this took forever. I hope you enjoy. notes: they/them used for Yuu, all scenarios are meant to take place over summer break, and contain a lot of summer themes. Going to the club and making out with Cater, possessive Leona, and mentioned vehicular manslaughter with Floyd. Other than that pretty tame. For other fic please look to my masterlist here.

Heartslabyul

Riddle

Riddle doesn’t know much about happiness now that he thinks about it.

He assumes he was happy when he played with Trey and Chenya all those years ago, and his mother had always been so insistent that true happiness came from doing well in his school work, and Riddle can say he gets something like happiness from his grades. But then if that is “happiness” then what is this? It doesn’t feel like it deserves quite the same word as what he feels like when he gets a good grade, and he certainly doesn’t get the same feeling of “happiness” from Trey as he does from you. There’s a sting of pain to it that compels him to smile, to stay as close to you as possible when you speak.

“I’ll miss you when you’re gone.”

That was where the pain had to have come from, but you’re here with him now and he knows you won’t be going back to that great somewhere you had come from and being next to you still hurts.

“Here.” You tap your metal sparkler ignites his and you smile, wide and free in an attempt to encourage him to enjoy himself. You must have noticed how tense he is, something that doesn’t change as he tries to force his focus on the sparkler. It’s simple, short, putting out a bunch of yellow sparks that he swears it shouldn’t have the strength to. It’s a lot like him, he supposes, he holds it out and up further and watches it spark down, the burnt edges sagging under their own weight as it rages against the night sky and tries to rival the stars. “Are you going to draw anything?”

“Huh?” He’s supposed to be having fun. Are you disappointed in him? No, you seem to have expected this, you're reaching for new sparklers and fumbling looking for something.

“If you twirl the sparkler through the air it’ll leave light behind. It looks like drawing shapes.” You take the risk of nodding towards Ace and Deuce, who he thinks are trying to draw their card suits from how Ace is pointing and Deuce’s face and laughing at the brief flicker of a spade he thinks he sees. “It won’t stay for long but it’s still fun.” A lighter, he recognizes the click before he turns back around to you and sees you fumbling with it. Your hands must be cold, he can’t be happy with that but the strange feeling surges and compels him forward with the gentlest of fires he’s ever conjured.

“You’re the expert, so I’ll trust your advice.” You jump slightly with the sparks and laughter, saying something he doesn’t hear as he takes his sparkler and joins you in drawing little hearts in the air. It has to be a silly thing he’s said for you to laugh so much, but he means it so. If he lets you point out the fun things, he thinks as you toss your second set of spent sparklers into the bucket of water and hold out the next for him to light, he can busy himself with the practical. And maybe together you can both learn to enjoy that thing called happiness you both don’t know much about.

Trey

“Don’t you think you are being unfair?” The words come out even though it has got to be pointless to say it; Trey has to know why else would his smile be so “strained,” why else would he be so determined to keep from making eye contact? And furthermore he has to know you know, that’s why he is standing so close to you despite this new no eye contact rule.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He continues looping icing in detailed patterns across a particularly complicated cake that you have to stop and stare at in wonder, could you ever get that good? Trey must have a great deal of patience to do such technical work, shame he has also decided to use that skill to test yours. You huff and look at your own work, Trey has to know you’ve been looking at him, people can feel the weight of other’s eyes right? Let’s see how he functions without your attention.

Fine, you assume he’ll be fine, he’s always so unbothered by anything you do. Cater has always insisted otherwise, but you swear he’s uncaring too.

“Maybe you should intern at a cake shop.” You do your best to mimic his voice and he chokes on his laugh, it takes a great deal of strength and perhaps patience that rivals Trey’s own to not turn and look. His laugh is so genuine you could mistake it for joy. “That’s what you said.”

“I did, didn't I? Good advice that.” His voice is a bit closer now, you try not to think about how that’s possible, you were already working so close to one another how could he get even closer without touching you? Why do you want him to touch you…

“Why didn’t you just invite me here?” That has got to sound more pathetic than it does biting, it certainly feels that way. “I applied to three separate places, and before I even completed the first line on your little questionnaire I got a call back from them congratulating me on getting hired here.” Trey doesn’t so much as flinch, you see him in the corner of your eye, pretending to adjust his glasses and inspect your work.

“Maybe I wanted some plausible deniability.” He’s so sincere you finally look at him and only sort of regret it when you see his triumphant smile. “But someone got a bit too excited about a friend from NRC finally visiting and chased everyone else off.” You snort.

“I can’t imagine Cater’s never wanted to come here, what with how he talked it up so much.”

“He has mentioned it once or twice.” Trey adjusts a strawberry on a cupcake next to you, out of nerves more than need as he wonders over how to word what he wants to stay next. “But I am glad you decided to come. I was worried you would say no.” You snort and Trey laughs slightly as he watches you squirm in indignance and tries not to focus on your lower lip’s quiver.

“Why on earth would I say no? I’ve been curious about this place since forever.” There’s flour on your apron he wants to smear on your face as an excuse to touch you and ignore the aching annoyance in his chest. I don’t want you to be curious about the shop, everyone is. I want you to be curious about me.

“Well there are more interesting ways to spend your summer than next to an oven.” He says it nonchalantly as his thumb lingers on your nose just a bit longer than it should and your annoyance fades in place of something he doesn’t know but wants to oh so badly.

“Well maybe I just didn’t have anything better to do.” He loves how pretend annoyed you get with him, the way your nose twitches and your eyes dart to look anywhere but him. “And maybe I’ll not have anything better to do this winter or next summer either.” He loves the security he has to indulge in those little things, even if you can’t ever go back to your old home.

“Oh? That’s a real shame.” He finally moves his thumb down your cheek and curls his fingers just under your chin to force you to look at him, to beg you to see a new possibility in his eyes. “I can fix that.”

Cater

Cater inviting you places wasn’t a new thing, but you had really expected it to become an old one once he hit his fourth year and didn’t constantly see you irl and have to pretend he was as invested in your friendship as you were. Was that a cruel thing to think? Sure. Did you hate yourself for it? Absolutely. Was it partially a product of your overwhelming fear of the consequences of opening up to someone with abandonment issues when you were all but guaranteed to permanently abandon him in a way that was so much worse than any of his previous friends?

Well now you were just being way too serious for the type of trip you were currently on. You’ve never seen so many flashing lights outside of a nightmare but Cater certainly looks like he’s having the time of his life on the dance floor with Lilia and Kalim while you sit next to Trey being “boring” in the corner. Not that you shouldn’t be at the club, you've just got a lot on your mind and no place to think it.

“You don’t have to sit here with me if you want to.” You apologize and Trey laughs, surprisingly not at all awkward.

“I’d make a total fool of myself, and I don’t want to end up on magicam being called someone’s dad. Again.” He swirls his drink in his hand and you look down at yours; you’re at a beach if you didn’t remember because of the stray sand in your shoes you would know by the little umbrella in your cup and the cheekily unbuttoned hawaiian shirt that displays the beads around Cater’s neck as he makes sure to fill your entire vision and steal your breath.

“Yuuuuu, c’mon dance with me.” He grabs both your hands in his, intertwining your fingers and pulling out to the floor with the force of his voice as much as his grip. “Can’t let you stay in the corner allll night, I’d be a bad senior!” You think you hear Kalim and Lilia say something to Trey, but Cater’s so close to you, you can’t really hear anything, not even the music or the last call from the bar that sends you and your friends into the street stumbling back towards the hotel Kalim had insisted on booking. “They’re certainly having fun.” Cater hasn’t let go of your hand, thumb circling your palm before finally resting nearby your pulse point. “Sort of a shame to call it quits now.” So he says but you can see the night’s been getting to him.

“If you need a break I don’t think anyone will blame you.” You squeeze his hand and a little of Cay Cay’s smile returns to Cater’s face as he squeezes back. “Do you want me to let you sleep when we get back to the rooms?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Those serious thoughts from before bring you back to reality and you finally see how far behind you’ve lagged from the rest of your group.

“I want to hear your voice.” The dull fear of abandonment snakes through you both and coaxes out Cater’s words he’d probably wouldn’t have ever said if you weren’t staying and he was completely sober. It hitches in your breath as he looks at you, Cater’s real unguarded smile on his face as he lets the boardwalk lights shade him in their perfectly imperfect artificial shine. “I want to hear you say we’re besties out loud again, I want it to be real. Because I’m mad I screwed things up before thinking you’d be gone when you’re so desperately real.” You wave the others on ahead, they shake their heads with knowing looks as you stop and lean into Cater, pressing your foreheads together and staring deep into each other’s eyes searching for something neither wants to admit was always there. “You don’t deserve to be stuck here.”

“You don’t deserve to be stuck in your own head.” He flinches and you reach to touch his cheek, could you kiss him here? Would that be moving too fast? “I’ll be just fine, Cater.”

“But I want to keep you stuck here with me.” He mumbles, and makes the move to kiss for you. Your arms move around his neck and your hands thread through his hair, pulling him close as he never dared to be.

You’ve got all sorts of things you want to say out loud, just for him to hear.

Ace

“It’s so hot.” Whines Grim, his bright smirk completely betraying his intent as you try not to sigh too loudly as you look over the prices at this ice cream stand Ace had convinced you to check out. “I reeeeeally wish we had an ice cream sundae right now, don’t you hench human?”

“You already had half a watermelon earlier,” you mutter “if I get you a whole sundae you might get sick.” He won’t. Grim almost never gets sick. You’ve seen him eat and rank literal dirt. But still you already are going to be carrying back the groceries Ace’s mom asked for and didn’t need something difficult to carry. Thankfully there always seems to be something for cats in the Queendom of Roses because the seller helpfully pipes up that he has a tuna flavored push pop that Grim immediately begs for instead.

You consider getting the same one for Ace, but his childish joy when you pass him a cherry popsicle before opening your own is almost worth the missed joke. “Aww nice, about time you paid me back for everything I do for you.” Almost. You roll your eyes and take your share of the grocery bags, half heartedly fighting for Ace to let you take more of them. He won’t let you, nodding towards Grim in way of an excuse as if the little monster ever lets you take his paw. He’s been doing a lot of things like that while you’ve been staying with his family, it’s actually been sort of nice. There has been a sort of domestic give and take between you two for a long time now that you think about it, probably since the first time he tried to sneak his way into your bed, that has translated into something like a routine. His family has been nice enough not to say anything about it but you know they see it too. “Hey you have work tomorrow right?”

��Yeah.” You try to blink your way back to a more normal state of mind. “Do you want me to bring you back anything?”

“Nah I’ll just text you if I think of something when I’m on my way to pick you up.” Ace says it so nonchalantly you have to wonder what old Ace would say. The one who made fun of you for not having magic and ditched a girlfriend without saying anything for being boring, or did you never actually know that guy and got lucky enough to meet the ace of hearts instead?

“Ya don’t always gotta walk them.” Grim snorts, unimpressed as always in a way that never fails to make you smile. “Yuu isn’t gonna disappear! Headmage said they were here to stay.” Ace rolls his eyes and you laugh. For some reason he never fails to take bait from Grim.

“That’s not what it’s about, dummy, walking alone is dangerous.”

“Yeah Grim,” you teasingly scratch his little head “besides the only one who isn’t going to be around forever is Ace.”

“Do you really think I won’t be around forever?” Ace actually looks offended, sounds it too and you find yourself indignant.

“You’ve got to have a life eventually.” You shrug. “Deuce and me, school, that doesn’t last forever.” “You can be a part of that life too you know?!” It’s not the closest to a confession you’ve ever gotten from Ace, but it’s certainly the loudest. “Look, I get you’ve got a lot going on in your mind right now, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I’ll sit outside that door waiting for you to be ready, and I’ll still be there even if that day never comes. If you’re really in trouble I’ll bust down that door, just because you’re forced to be here doesn’t mean you’re alone.” You wait. You wait for the back track, the joke, the step back into the comfort of the friend zone but it doesn’t come. He looks you in your eyes and keeps walking forward towards home. “You have me, you know?” You’ve always had me.

Deuce

Sometimes you forget how abnormal Deuce is. Probably because it’s a normal sort of abnormality, if any such thing exists, that doesn’t involve magic or monsters and you would have been able to wrap your mind around no matter what time and place you had met in. But that doesn’t mean Deuce is not capable of doing or saying things that surprise you.

“Let’s make a pillow fort.” He says, the familiarity of his joy the only thing that’s keeping you from screaming about his words. “I’ve never made one before, it’ll be fun!”

“Oh I refuse to believe that.” You laugh but refuse to protest, Ace isn’t here to bring down the mood and there’s no way Grim would deny something that he thinks is guaranteed to involve popcorn from the few times you’ve camped out in the Ramshackle Lounge and watched TV together. And to be fair that’s also your plan for tonight, Deuce has a bunch of movies he’s been determined to show you since you agreed to stay over for the Summer.

“Well maybe back when I was a kid with my mom.” He certainly has enough blankets for it, but then what self respecting house doesn’t have a few extras? “I’ve never had a friend stay over before…” If you were in a different mood, if his flushed face wasn’t so cute, you might tease about how you had been here before with Epel, Ortho, and Silver but there’s a tone to the way he says friend. It’s the way he makes sure to lie as close to you as possible in your little fort and watches you as much as the movie that tells you that he feels, even if he doesn’t think, that this is somehow different. “Have you?” He asks it late, as the credits roll on your third or fourth movie and Grim snores. “I thought maybe we could do something normal for once, but I forgot to ask.” You laugh and roll your head onto his shoulder and allow yourself to really think about things.

“Thank you.” It’s the first thought you have, surprising you both. But should it? There’s something warm and comforting about being with Deuce. Natural even. “I can’t say I’m happy but I feel closer to home than I have in a while.” Deuce squeezes your hand and rests his head on top of yours.

“I’m glad. I- know I shouldn’t be but I am sort of happy you’re still here.” He wants to say he’s happy you are staying, but he knows he can’t. It would be too cruel and Deuce knows he can’t really understand the depth of what you’ve lost or make up for it with sleep overs or movie nights. But he does so want to try. “I promise I’ll do my best to make your time here worth it, I meant what I said during Starsending. I want you to be there when I get my badge, I want to make you proud of me too.”

“I’d say I’ll be the loudest in the room but I’ve met your mom.” You sleepily quip and he laughs. “And I’m already proud of you, Deucey.” His half open mouth freezes, his thanks stuck in the softness of your voice as he wills himself to sleep to sear the sound into his brain.

“Sweet dreams, Yuu.” He’ll make this a summer worth having, he swears it.

Savanaclaw

Leona

“You cannot have driven me out here just to nap.” Leona’s head is heavy and warm in your lap in stark contrast to the cool greenery that shades you from the rest of the palace.

“Can’t I?” He opens his eyes to look up at you with a gleam that’s just so smug it makes your heart flutter in what you have to work very hard to convince yourself is annoyance. “Because I could have sworn I just did.”

You aren’t sure why Leona invited you. That one time you had visited the Savannah before had been because Grim demanded, not because he wanted you there. Or at least that’s what you had thought but this time you had received an invitation, and though it had been worded more like a demand (must be a cat thing) it had been surprisingly thoughtful in its accommodations. Grim certainly had been happy enough to accept on your behalf even before Crowley had agreed to let you go.

“I’m just surprised you would want anyone with you to nap at all.” You had been afraid to touch him when you saw him, but you swear he wants you to play with his hair with how he purposely spreads it out, like he’s displaying for you. “I thought you’d be happy to be rid of me.”

“Maybe I would have been.” His bluntness is only dulled by its predictability, there’s something almost relieving about it if you’re honest. Everyone has been so insistent on saying they are happy you have stayed and just as eager to avoid talking about the specifics that worry you. Not Leona, he keeps his green eyes focused on you, striking right at the heart of things. “But you aren’t half as annoying as everyone else, even if you could stand to fight for yourself a bit more. Why do you think I invited you here anyway?”

“...so your family wouldn’t bother you about your duties?” He laughs, loud and free and so forceful he shakes your entire body with its pride.

“Well you’re half right.” He reaches up and pulls you down, rolling to the side so you’re lying in the bit of ground he’s warmed and caged in the safety of his arms with nowhere to run from the obvious truth. “You’re here because I want you to be.” The way he says it, the touch of his forehead against yours and the lull of his heartbeat, it’s like he’s daring you to think of your entire existence in Twisted Wonderland in terms of him and him alone. And he knows it, he has to he’s too smart to word his sayings in a way that would misconstrue his meaning. “What’s that shit you herbivores are always yammering on about? ‘Finding your family?’ Well I found you so you’re going to stay right?”

“Are you offering me citizenship, your majesty?” Because you have to make this a bit of a joke otherwise you’ll let him in on just how much power over you he really has.

“I’m offering you a home.” He’s surprisingly serious. “It’s dark, a bit shit, but you already like those sorts of places if your dorm is anything to go by. And you’re so annoyingly sunny I’m sure it’ll perk right up when you settle yourself in.” Just like he does as you move to hide your face in his chest, your breaths matching in the safe lull of slumber under the jungle’s starry sky.

Ruggie

“Man, I love Summer! People are just so much freer with their cash, y’know shishishishi.” Ruggie cackles as he settles himself into a booth, still somehow full of energy despite the day you’ve both had while you slump across from him. “Peak tourism season means loads of opportunities for work!”

“I know Leona said this place was popular but I guess I didn’t realize just how much.” Ruggie had been so proud to show you this barbeque place after your first night working at the resort with him, and you had been more than happy to know it on nights like this when you had worked overtime meeting some really pushy customers' needs for what felt like way too little money. Even though this gig paid pretty well some people just weren’t worth shit, something Ruggie knows all too well.

“Yeah, nothing on Sage’s Island ever gets this busy. You holding up ok?” Ruggie’s always like this while he’s on the job, you try to tell yourself he doesn’t mean too much by it, that he’s just checking up on you from a place of mutual understanding but it still feels good. Good enough that the smile you manage is genuine.

“Surprisingly, yeah.” You could really do with some more sleep than you are going to get when you return to Grim tonight, but then you always could. “What about you? You always look twice as busy as me and that’s saying something.”

“Aww, you worried about little old me? Kiiinda weird Yuu! I’m the senior here, I'm more used to this.” He’s the same smug Ruggie, brimming with enough confidence and infectious determination that perks you up just a bit. Or maybe it’s the fact your food’s come and you are determined to snatch up the utensils and cook before Ruggie can and use it as an excuse to keep all the best cuts for himself. He doesn’t jump to fight you tonight though, instead he looks contemplative. “Hey, are you sure you’re ok with how you spent your Summer?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The meat sizzles on the grill, dampening the seriousness of the conversation with its pops, and Ruggie tries to focus on it but it’s clear he has been thinking about this for a while.

“Well, my invitation was kinda late. I was really surprised you didn’t want to spend your Summer hanging out with your friends.” You don’t say anything immediately, wondering how best to respond to someone who, admittedly, has never really admitted to being your friend despite you both regularly flirting with that and a much deeper concept.

“I mean I do.” It’s best to be honest with him, he won’t accept anything else even if it hurts to see you refuse to look at him as you flip the meat to cook its other side and continue thinking out loud. “But I’m going to be stuck here forever, I want to get a head start on some security. I can’t live in Ramshackle forever. And besides…” It’s best to be honest with him, you reassure yourself as you take a deep breath and give him the cut you know he’ll like best and stare deep into his eyes. “I was happy to hear from you and get a chance to see you again sooner.” His ears twitch and his eyes widen, words fumble out of his mouth without any real meaning as you both silently agree to table the conversation and eat your meal. The best meals aren’t rushed, and the best connections allow themselves the time they need to grow. You know you’ll both be ok, you promise yourself you will make sure of it.

Jack

“Jack, what is this thing again?” You ask slightly exasperated, not with the product or with him, just yourself for still not remembering the types of snack foods available in a basic convenience store after a whole school year in this world. For once, Jack doesn’t complain or pretend he doesn’t want to help, just dutifully walks over and looks at the package before putting it back on the shelf.

“It’s a type of chip, you liked this flavor better.” He adds it to his basket and you sigh, mutter an apology Jack doesn’t acknowledge verbally, instead touching your thigh gently with his tail. “Is there anything else you want to bring back to Sage’s Island with you? If you don’t remember until you get back…” I won’t send it to you. That’s what he wants to say, but he cuts himself off before he can. He can see your mind auto filling it in as you think, and he curses himself silently. What a fool he’d been, “I won’t need to do that I’ll just know” he hadn’t counted on lying to himself about how he felt. His mother had, she’d even laughed about it when he had tried to stumble around asking to let you visit.

“A soulmate is something you work for, Jack. It’s not given to you, you have to earn it.”

Jack likes to think he works hard. His grades are good, he’s in great shape, his unique magic is truly a gift and he isn’t taking it for granted but you. You’ve got two separate drinks held up to the light, neither of them are exclusive to the Shaftlands. You could get them at Sam’s any time but you are squinting as if you have truly never seen them before and he guesses that’s because it’s true. Why is it so hard to just speak to you? Is it because you're human?

“If you want something limited, those are over here.” He takes what you were looking at anyway. “My sister really likes this one.” I think you will too, it’s a lot like what you get from the vending machines. You nod and add it to the basket, turning towards the canned goods and insisting on getting some “fancy” tuna for Grim with a smile that stirs his soul and reassures him of what Jack knows is true even if he can’t speak about it.

“You think he’d notice even if it was different?” You are shaking your head as you look at the can, making jokes but not bothering to pretend you don’t care. It’s maddening, how bright you shine for those you care about and how little he can do to give that shine back to you.

“You can’t tell him how much it costs, otherwise he will insist it is.” That works, you laugh and his tail goes crazy, unable to hide how important your laughter is to him. I love you. That’s what he wants to say. “You should come back next summer.” But he doesn’t, he rubs his neck and looks at the shelves and thinks it so loud he swears his heart is halfway out of his chest. There’s a soft look in your eyes that he wants to think says you hear it, but he knows that he can’t take it as an excuse. Next summer I’ll say it. I’ll say it every day that you’re here, I promise. Your smile is everything he needs.

“I look forward to it.”

Octavinelle

Azul

There’s a picture on your phone you don’t think you were meant to see, but magicam lets you delete photos and Azul hasn’t done that yet. It’s been an hour, the little opened notification sits there taunting you both but still he doesn’t do anything. Not send a follow up message or delete the photo or anything and FINALLY you’ve had enough so you do something beyond reckless.

You call him. And he answers.

“Prefect! Always a pleasure to hear from you.” Azul sounds so infuriatingly put together you want to die. You bet he’s sat in some sort of fancy office, leaning back with a smug look on his face while you hug a pillow close to your chest, still in your pajamas seething with nerves over his little mistake. “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Did you mean to send me a picture of your menu for orientation?” You cringe at how upset you sound, because you really aren’t exactly. It’s silly to hope Azul would talk to you over the summer at all, and if he did of course it would be about business. That’s what talking with Azul is always about. “Oh and hello I guess.” But it still pays to be polite if for no other reason than the melodic laughter that you get to hear at what you're sure Azul sees as a cute mistake.

“I would have called you if I hadn’t.” He sounds like he is reassuring a child, but still pauses to keep you off your game before he continues. “I was expecting you to give your opinions on it, you have to have some don’t you?”

“Not for free.” You snort and he laughs again, slightly more awkwardly this time and you wish you could say that you didn’t feel bad, that you were as cold and calculated as the sea but neither of you are really. It isn’t wrong to want something is it? Azul is pro-greed, so surely he would understand you teasing him a bit to keep him in your life for just a bit longer. “Do you need my opinion for something?”

“Just to hear it.” Azul has a way of being so damnably dismissive about things it drives you insane. Just once you want to hear him say- “Besides, it’s been a while since we talked and I thought it would be a good ice breaker.” You choke on your own thoughts and almost break your jaw trying to keep him from hearing. “You’ll be there I trust?”

“Orientation?” Your throat hurts and it shows in your voice, that stupid octopus has got to be so smug right now it would be so insufferable to look at. You definitely aren’t thinking about it and it definitely isn’t making your struggle to breathe worse. “Or the Lounge? Because it’s not like I’ll have anything to do really if you want help or something… I am sort of curious about those house themed drinks, that's a stupid good idea for an orientation by the way.”

“I knew you’d get it!” Azul sounds so excited it’s almost pure. “You’ll have to come by beforehand so I can show you how to make them, it took so much time to get the correct flavor pallet for the Savanaclaw and Ignihyde ones you have no idea-”

And just like that he has you, he has you! You’re listening and talking to him through all of his explanations, probably sitting somewhere under a tree well put together with Grim on your lap and… smiling he hopes? While he is curled into a small ball in his room trying to pretend he knew this would work out exactly like he wanted the whole time.

You’ll be there. When the bell strikes and the mirror opens its gaze on NRC once again he won’t have to be nostalgic for flames and mayhem because you will be there. And this time he swears he’ll catch you for good.

Jade

It’s the last day of school and yet you have nothing to pack and nothing to do. The usual excitement that accompanies the final freedom of summer is sort of lost in that void of being unable to go home, and as ashamed as you are to admit it you think you’ll go crazy if you don’t have anywhere to go next summer. You already felt so overwhelmingly lonely when you first got the news, and you have heard these things get better but it doesn’t feel like it will. Even the knock at your door fills you with dread, you don’t want to ruin Ace and Deuce’s excitement with your bad mood. But that’s not what you see when you open your door.

“Hello prefect.” Jade Leech is tall, so tall he fills up the frame with his stiff figure that you always have noticed for how proper it is but today he seems even more rigid than usual. Guarded is the word you would use if you could ever picture him being afraid of you. “May I come in?” You nod and shut the door behind you both, your idle curiosity drowning out the danger signs as neither of you move or speak. Jade’s hands stay folded in front of him, yours stay at your sides as you wait. Wait wait wait for what you don’t know, hadn’t the twins told you they visited their parents over this break? His mother sounded lovely, why would he want to keep her waiting? “I was wondering…” He closes his eyes and brings his hand up to his chin as if he is deep in thought but it reads more like it is taking a lot out of him to say what he wants to “Would you be interested in climbing Mount Moln with me sometime?” Your breath catches in your throat, the memories of your trip to Harveston still somewhat fresh and inviting in their domesticity. You hadn’t thought he would remember that little conversation you’d had, but he does. His wide smile when he opens his eyes to see your fluster screams it’s haunted his dreams as much as it has yours. “I do seem to recall you expressed a desire to climb it, and since you will be staying with us for the foreseeable future I thought I would take my chance on the proposal.” Did he have to word it like that? It’s doing things to your heart.

“I did say that, didn't I?” You try to center yourself by closing your eyes, it’s always a bad thing to appear desperate around him but your mind insists on remembering. The feel of the snow, the smell of the woods and the bonfires, and of Jade whether he would believe you or not. Of the excitement in his voice when he named all the plants he knew, of the funny look on his face when his sled misbehaved, so passive as if it was happening to someone else and not him. And of the shiver of excitement at his ideas on how to sabotage the other team, whispered quietly in your ear so as not to alert Epel in an effort to convince you of his position. Or maybe now that you look at him he just wanted the excuse to be close. “Yes. Yes. I would like that very much.” Jade’s smile stretches to something as dangerous as it is thrilling as he takes his long desired excuse and closes the gap. “I will see you next week then. Make sure to pack your things.” You splutter and he takes a deep breath to savor the look as he traces your cheek and takes your weak protests in stride. He never did say you would be going to Mount Moln this summer, you need to train after all. Jade Leech intends to take his time with you, assuming you’ll let him of course.

Floyd

“Hehe Floyd and shrimpy, drivin to the beeeeach. What’ll they do?”

“Stay in their lane and watch the road.” Crewel has to have added a “fuck” in there that he didn’t voice if his death grip on the car’s grab handle is anything to go by, and if you are honest you wish he had, it would make this whole experience much more bearable. You have opted to hold Grim instead, prayer was also an option but that wouldn’t keep Grim from trying to harass Floyd. He’s laughing now, saying something to Professor Crewel you can’t quite place, maybe adding a new verse to his little song that admittedly sounds kind of catchy. Floyd has a very nice voice you swear he only ever uses to make fun of people, not that you could see him ever doing anything with it since that would take too much repetitive work. “Pull off the exit here and make sure to park WITHIN the lines this time.” Crewel snaps and you find yourself finally at a merciful stop, and unable to free yourself and Grim from your seatbelts fast enough under the guise of “getting your things” from the trunk.

You aren’t fast enough to avoid Floyd. He’s there as soon as you open the trunk, tell tale smirk on his face.

“Well shrimpy? I’m waitin’” He’s giggling, the only thing that’s keeping him from kicking his feet is their need to be on solid ground to keep him upright.

“You suck.” You say completely deadpan without a hint of irony. “Congratulations I didn’t know anybody could do it that bad. Why did you want to try learning to drive again? They don’t have cars under the sea do they?” Floyd seems amused by your attempt to steam past your little insults, choosing to ignore them for now and shrug as he takes the umbrellas out of the car and closes it.

“It seemed fun. Beakerfish is always goin on about ‘em and Pops says they get stupid expensive. Why’s that huh? You humans sure do like buying shit just to break it.” He doesn’t move immediately, like he’s waiting for something and determined to block your way until he gets it. So you take a deep breath and lie to yourself that it’s just this one answer.

“Floyd, most people don’t wreck their cars on purpose.” It should be the most obvious thing in the world, but still he doesn’t move. His smile gets wider and his eyes blaze with determined focus, for some reason he gets closer to you, one hand resting above you on the car to loosely cage you against it. He has to know what he’s doing here too, Floyd’s a lot but he’s not stupid. “Aww really, shrimpy? There’s so many movies and games ‘bout it you’d think that’s the whole point of havin’ em.” He giggles exactly like he does before moving in with a squeeze, bending to whisper in your ear as if Crewel isn’t just on the other side of the vehicle still holding that damn crop and just looking for an excuse to strike. “That’s not all they do in the movies though, huh Yuu? Maybe I wanna take you someplace nice,quiet, and all alone for once~” And just like he’s gone, back to bothering your professor who you know is chastising himself for agreeing to chaperone this trip while you try desperately to catch your breath.