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duck-den · 7 hours ago

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a painted white rose, still so red

in which ace has seen you in his dreams too many times.

SUMMARY: it should not be his unique magic at all. it couldn't be. for whatever sick joke this was, ace has come to known you before anything has happened. he swears he has been here before, said these same words, and moved through these same sequences. if such was true, then the last thing he would ever want to see was you entering diasomnia for lilia's party.

PAIRINGS: ace trappola x fem reader

WARNINGS: prefect dies multiple times, angst, time-loop au, book 7 spoilers

He swore that you were crushed under the Red Tyrant’s heels before his very eyes.

Ace still remembers that image of your horror-stricken expression before it all went dark, the way your hand was outstretched to him in a desperate attempt to be saved. Of course, he does recall reaching out towards you as well, fingers barely touching as the splatter of ink splashed across his face. You couldn’t have known Riddle’s strength. After all, you did come from another world beyond the mirrors. If Ace hadn’t provoked him with that punch, maybe you would have lived then.

And yet, you sit across from him sipping tea beside the very queen that took your life. Both of you were laughing too, and whatever remnants of the tyrant remained in Riddle, were merely washed away. The scent of ink is gone from his nose, replaced by the faintest scent of cakes and teas. You were alive and well today, as you were yesterday, and the day before that.

“Ace?”

He snapped out of his trance, only to meet your concerned gaze. You tilted your head at him with a small smile. “You’re going to spill your tea.” Alarmed by the sensation of hot droplets falling on his trousers, the redhead hissed and patted away the heat. Everything is alright once he sees your smile, followed by that mischievous gaze that you rarely held for him. You were always much more careful after all, it was no wonder that Ace and Deuce were often under your watch. Scowling at your amused smile, Ace ran a hand through his hair and reached out towards you, pinching your cheek slightly while Riddle was not looking. His spirits had returned as he heard a childish whine leave your lips, manifesting as a slight curl of his lip.

“Yeah, yeah. Kinda hard to laugh like that, don’t you think?” You pout at him and take a quick glance at Riddle, almost tempted to tattle until a hedgehog finds its way into your hands.

It was only a dream, and you were still there.

A few nights later, he dreamt of your sullen expression fading away into sand. Akin to a stone sculpture, your body was frozen in time. Save for your head, you glare at someone with utter defiance and anger. Your wrist clutched by a clawed figure, you screech and screech until your throat is reduced to dry particles that soon faded into the air. Ace couldn’t hear a single thing that was leaving your mouth, but he does watch as you face him with frightened eyes. Along with that dirty tornado behind you, you were no longer where you stood and Ace found himself screaming in the fray. How he wished that he had the power to knock that blotted lion into the dirt, make him know what it is like to disappear from existence with a single touch of a hand. Ace gets closer and closer, pen aimed at those white fangs until he is back in his room with sunlight blinding his sight.

All it took were a few minutes to call you, and find relief in the fact that you were in your potions class and he was late. It was only a dream, and you were only there.

There was a certain point when he had a certain feeling that told him to not associate with the Octanivelle Housewarden. Something very sinister was hiding underneath those piles of contracts sitting at his desk, and Great Sevens, did Ace regret ever signing those contracts. Hiding away his shame and that slight tinge of paranoia, he could only sheepishly smile at your disapproving expression when he comes to admit that he enlisted Azul's help to cheat for the upcoming exam. Everything should have been alright, and you would have saved the day with the wits that got you out of the toughest of spots.

But when Ace swears he heard your spine snap in two when Azul's tentacles had squeezed around you so tight, the world had ended then. You looked so peaceful with your head lulling with the water currents, eyes shut as if you were asleep. You wouldn't hear Ace's gurgling screech through the water anyways.

And yet, you did.

"Ace! Ace! Wake up!" A hand clutching at his chest, Ace staggered awake with a frightened expression. His vision began to unblur, returning him to Crewel's classroom, eyes fixated on him, and most importantly, a very irritated Crewel. "Napping again, are we, Trappola?" Ace couldn't even gather the nerve to give a witty retort as he faces you from across the room. Your expression held concern, even worry.

Gritting his teeth, the frazzled redhead stood from his desk, muttering an apology before he left the room. Later, he tells you to get out of his head with a slight shove before retreating to Heartslabyul.

Ace found it extremely difficult to look at the Octanivelle Housewarden in the eye without fighting the urge to lunge at him.

It was only a dream, and you were still here.

Sometimes, the daydreams invade Ace’s mind more than he would have liked. There are days when he pauses midconversation as pictures play out in his head.

They are not always so frightening. Suddenly, he knows how to dance without ever having to practice. Who would’ve known that he was decent at singing too? No one recalls those nights spent in your dorm, that beautiful show put on with the help of the Pomefiore students. He knows that you spend some nights with the Prince of Briar Valley on the Ramshackle Dorm’s rooftop when the moon is out, but you never told him a thing about these escapades. He knows about the mouse in the mirror of your shared bedroom. He knows that you like to have your hand held when Grim is nowhere to be found. He knows your smile and laughter in ways that no other student did, only when they were directed at him. All these hints of knowledge, and yet he knew before you even told him about any of them.

For all that it was worth, it appeared that you weren’t the magicless student that everyone believed you to be.

And Ace wished that you were nothing more than a magicless student. If only you weren't so sacrificing and kind to him, to Deuce, to Riddle, to almost every single person you have met. Stupid prefect, why can't you just save yourself instead of trying to save others?

He ponders on the question as he stares at your bored expression, fixated on the rackety ceiling of the Ramshackle dorm. Ace finds himself on one side of your creaking mattress, digging crescent marks onto his skin. Grim's snores were far away onto that little loveseat, and Ace knows that he won't be waking from his deep slumber. His heart ached and hung desperately from his ribcage as he watched you shift and sigh.

Ace feared that if he dreamed, it would be of nothing good.

"Ace, you're weirding me out." With a confused blink, Ace furrowed his eyebrows as you turned to face him with a concerned expression. "I know that the winter break is coming up, but don't you think you're acting a bit too clingy?"

"—ack!?" Choking on air, Ace's eyes widened at your accusation before he sat up, misplaced offense written all over his face. You continued to stare at him, seemingly unfazed by the thought. "You are acting clingy! You've been coming over for the past three weeks, and Riddle tells me that you haven't done anything to avoid your own dorm as of late."

Finally, both of you are seated upwards. You couldn't help but feel his leg align next to yours, his foot subconsciously playing with your own. Ace does everything he could to avoid looking you in the eye, prompting himself to turn away with a bitten lip. "I'm not being clingy. Don't get your hopes so high, prefect." You don't react to the way he spits out those words in such an abrasive tone. Instead you smirk at him, shaking your head as you lightly knocked your head against the wall.

"Aww, are you going to miss me when you go back home? I didn't know you cared about me that much, Ace."

"I don't! Shut up!" Ace's shout was shrunken down to a whisper as you both eyed Grim who happened to stir in his sleep. With a strained sigh, Ace scowled and nudged your shoulder with a harsh finger. "You don't get it, prefect. This is your fault." He clenched his jaw at the way you looked at him with such offense, but yet so softly as if you understood. "How is this my fault? I don't remember asking you to be my shadow." You whispered. Ace hates how he knows that you're smiling despite how dark it is. He has seen that smile and heard that voice together in those false memories that haunt him at night.

Clicking his tongue, Ace yanked your shoulder downwards back to the mattress. Forcibly tucking the blanket in, he sneered at you in annoyance. "You can't talk. You're the one talking to a weird stranger in the middle of the night. If Deuce and I never caught him that one time—" He paused and sighed before cutting that conversation short. Cheeks dusted pink, he grabbed the blankets and turned his back on your figure.

"Forget it. I'm gonna tap out now."

Ace is grateful that you never push him too much whenever he acted out like this. You do ask, and share your curiosities from time to time, often asking 'why'. This was an occurrence in which you let him be, only letting out that hum he had grown so accustomed to hearing in the day and night.

Feeling your calf brush against his, Ace stilled as his heart was flooded with relief and embarrassment. He shouldn't be thinking much about the idea of sharing a bed with you. It's no different from sharing a bed with a friend. No one can tell him why he feels both erratic and at peace when he feels your warm skin against his. He hates it. He hates every single bit of it. He hates you. He hates how you haunt his dreams. He hates how you haunt him in the day. He hates how you can never leave his head, and hates that—

"Ace?" His heart clenches once more at your sleepy murmur. He has yet to turn around and face you. "Yeah?"

"Thanks for keeping me company, but I can take care of myself! I can handle everything."

Of course, you could handle everything. Who do you think protects you? Who do you think has this weird ability to see the future and fix it before it ever happens?!

Ace remains silent, staring into the shadows as he attempted to force himself to sleep. Everything would be fine tonight. He won't let anything happen to you, not while you continue to haunt his dreams.

That night, he dances into a poisonous fog and with a prefect decaying in his arms.

That morning, he wakes up holding you a bit closer than he would've wanted to. It is only a dream, and you are still here.

It was snowing when he finally questions why he cared so much.

He should have trusted his gut when something was screaming at him to stay. He should have known something was wrong when all he dreamt of was sand piling up in a container.

Stay.

Perhaps if he dreamt a bit longer while he was at the college, it might have been enough to make him stay. Only when he was thousands of kilometers away from you, did he finally get the final piece of those dreams of sand.

He prays to the Seven that this was not a cruel joke. You only ever seem to die right in front of him in his dreams. By this point, he believes you are in Scarabia and he wants nothing more than to knock that vice-housewarden down to a peg. At least, that is what he tells himself.

Ace would not be able to handle the idea of you being buried alive in sand.

He still cannot stomach the thought, even now as you fidget on the bench. You are seated closely to him, thick puffy jackets touching as snow continued to flutter down. Deuce had taken Grim to the cafeteria to fill their stomachs. You did not expect Ace to tell you to follow him. Of all the things he could have said, "We need to talk," was the last thing you ever imagined him saying.

Your cheeks are flushed pink, and you cannot tell whether it is because of the weather or if it was over your own thoughts. Ace is too quiet, and just as always, he was avoiding eye contact with you again.

"How is your arm?"

"My arm is doing better. Jamil's overblot episode left a bit of a bruise, but other than that, it's healing."

"That's good."

Silence once more fills the air, save for the winds rustling through the pine trees and the sound of Ace's sharp breaths. You could only watch as his blank expression warps into one of heartbreak as he continued to stare blankly into the distance. His breath continues to shudder and hitch, and you swear it is anxiety as he begins to wince and whimper.

And suddenly, he blinks and he returns to you.

Whatever bravado he had in confronting you was broken down. Your heart ached at Ace's pained expression as he faced you. With a quick shake of his head, he rose to his feet and began walking away.

Concerned, you returned on your feet and gave chase as his steps hastened. "Ace, what's wrong?!" He cannot bear to hear you. He should have found relief in hearing your voice, but he doesn't want to hear. He needs you out of his head, out of his mind, and out of his head. He needs you close, in sight, in his ears, in his mind, and in his heart where he can lock you away forever.

"Ace, wait!" You panted out, reaching your hand out to grab at his scarf. Instead, all you feel is the slip of your toes against ice and you could only prepare to hit those cold shards on the ground— but you don't.

Cold calloused hands grip tightly onto your elbows, keeping you upright as you struggle to regain footing. As you allowed your pounding heart to calm in your chest, you catch a glimpse of Ace's angered expression. "Prefect, you need to be careful!" To your own surprise, your eyes flare with defiance as you pulled yourself out of his grip. "Okay, what's the matter with you, Ace? You've been acting weird since the start of the year." Eyebrows furrowed, you crossed your arms and gritted your teeth. "I think you're being too much. I'm not some glass figure that breaks so easily."

Something inside Ace snaps. In his frustration, his hands lunge out for you once more. Fingers were tightly latched against your elbow, not too harshly, however. He leans in closely to your face, red with exhaustion and exasperation. "Prefect, are you dumb?! This is the fourth overblot you survived and you still think you're invincible?!" Before you could reply, Ace let out a frustrated groan in an attempt to silence you. "What makes you think you can survive a fifth, sixth, or seventh?"

You paused, almost shocked by how Ace's voice seemed to crack at the end of his sentence. Only then, finally you listen and you still. Ace remained fixated on your face, torn between his angered expression and one of heartbreak.

Without warning, his arms wrapped themselves around your body. One arm across your shoulders, the other around your waist, and it is his head that is laid on your shoulder. You couldn’t see his obscured expression this way, but judging by the quietness in his voice, it was anything but insincere. “We can run away. We still have time to run before we even get those invitations to that Diasomnia farewell party.” He takes a moment to realize that he did sound insane. Perhaps you simply thought that this was just another one of his spontaneous ideas for mischief, evoking a dry sigh from your lips. Did you even understand what he was trying to tell you? Deep down, however, the rare gentleness in his tone told you otherwise.

“Ace, what are you—”

You felt his grip on you tighten, seemingly afraid of letting you go in fear that he will never have this chance again. In your melancholy, your hands hesitantly crept up to his forearm, squeezing weakly. “If we get Deuce in on this too, we can take those blastcycles and get the hell out of this island. You won’t have to deal with another Overblot ever again.”

And Ace knows that happy endings exist, and they are not obtained without sacrifice. He thinks about the many times you had to sacrifice your life for even a page of that hopeful fantasy that nobody dies, and it nearly breaks him. The boy didn’t want to think any further of how much more you will have to suffer these mundane motions to achieve the ending you wanted. He had only half a mind with not enough memories to make clear judgements, and yet—

“Ace,”

Had it not been for his attempts to keep himself from caving into his emotions, he would have begged and pleaded at your feet. Even so, he was thankful that the snow continued to fall violently to obscure your vision. You did not have to look at him to know what pained him, however.

He hates the way you hum so nonchalantly, betraying all the other versions of you that have died before his eyes, betraying the seemingly hundreds of you that never woke up from that sleeping spell. Ace already knows you are smiling, just as you have in his dreams. It is that damn smile that kills him.

It was that stupid smile of yours that screamed of nothing but acceptance.

“Don’t you think we’ve already tried that before?”

As Malleus lulls the school to sleep, Ace makes an effort to crawl to your resting body. He fights and fights against the inevitable spell, taking the time to glare at the stunned fae as he pulls himself on the carpet with his nails, all to reach you. Ace never stops glaring as he curls himself against your back, holding you so close to him. Just as sleep finally took over, he buried himself into your hair, the loveliest place to die.

He wonders if you are dreaming right now.

Ace wonders if he ever gets to rescue you in your dreams, as he regrets he could not rescue you from this one.

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