ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit
I got pulled into Twisted Wonderland and it consumed me
273 posts
Take my thougths so they don't eat me alive. I haven't even finished all the books yet. I'm doomed.
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 4 hours ago
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I bet Nyoka is super popular when it comes to tutoring fellow students during exam time...
TO BE FAIR… he does tutor if asked to.
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Or it gets put on him, idk.
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 4 hours ago
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Hi!
Just dropping in to say that you artstyle is super crisp and I want to chew on it /pos.
And also I might have just gone through your Nyoka tag coz I'm obsessed with Snake Twst OCs and Nyoka is one of the best. You did such an awesome job with him, I love him.
Wish you a good day! Bye o/
THANK YOU TO ALL THOSE THINGS 😭💖 i do like chewability
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yeah blud kinda popped off in a way im still wrapping my head around 🫣🫠
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my favorite kind of character is the kind who deep in their soul is constantly screaming LOVE ME LOVE ME LOVE ME and outwardly expressing literally anything else
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First time I have ever spent money on any type if mobile game, damn if it wasn't worth it.
Got lucky weeks ago and pulled Dorm Uniform Jack on a single pull on standard.
10th pull got my dorm uniform Leona and a dorm uniform Jade
Finally used tokens to get the treasures card, my lock screen for months, Dorm Uniform Ruggie!!!
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The other cards are precious, I got so many R perfumes, and I'll have to save my gems back up for months but I regret absolutely nothing. This was so worth it!
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The Rhythm of Us || Jamil Viper
Through parties, desserts and disasters, you and Jamil find a rhythm that's uniquely your own.
1k Masterlist ; Prologue
w.c. 4.5k
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Jamil’s voice is calm when he answers your call, though there’s a slight edge of surprise that he can’t quite hide.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Jamil,” you begin, already smiling as you sit cross-legged on your bed. “I was thinking about your offer earlier, and I’d love to get lunch with you tomorrow.”
There’s a pause on the other end, followed by a soft, almost imperceptible intake of breath. “Oh. That’s great,” he says quickly, the surprise in his voice replaced by his usual measured tone. “I’ll meet you tomorrow at noon. Is that okay?”
“Sounds perfect,” you say.
After hanging up, you can’t help but think he sounded a little pleased, even if he tried not to show it.
The next day, you find him waiting at a quiet spot near the botanical garden. The area is shaded, with a small table set neatly for two, and Jamil stands beside it with his usual cool demeanor. His uniform is impeccable as always, but there’s a certain ease in his posture that puts you at ease too.
“Hey, Jamil!” you call out, waving as you approach.
He nods, his lips curling into a faint smile. “You’re right on time.”
As you sit, you notice the spread he’s prepared: a beautiful array of dishes that wouldn’t look out of place in a high-end restaurant.
“This looks amazing!” you exclaim, eyes wide. “You made all of this?”
He waves a hand dismissively, though there’s a faint pink tinge on his cheeks. “It’s nothing special.”
“Nothing special? Jamil, this is art,” you say, reaching for a plate and immediately helping yourself. “You’ve seriously outdone yourself.”
“Okay, okay,” he says, shaking his head as you pile on the compliments. “Cut it out already. Just eat.”
But despite his words, there’s a small, satisfied smile on his face as he watches you dig in.
Lunch is lively. Between bites, you launch into a story about the latest chaos Ace, Deuce, and Grim dragged you into.
“So there we were,” you say, gesturing dramatically with your fork, “standing in Professor Crewel’s office, and Ace has the brilliant idea to blame the singed curtains on Grim’s ‘natural combustion reflex.’”
Jamil raises an eyebrow, though the corner of his mouth twitches upward. “I’m almost afraid to ask what happened next.”
“Oh, it gets better,” you say with a grin. “Grim starts running with it, claiming he’s going through some ‘highly dangerous fire-beast adolescence.’ Crewel didn’t buy it for a second, but Ace and Deuce looked so confident, you could almost believe them.”
Jamil shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know if I’m more impressed by their nerve or disappointed by their lack of foresight.”
“Probably both,” you say, laughing. “But hey, we survived, and no one got detention—this time.”
As the conversation flows, you can’t help but notice how at ease Jamil seems. His usual reserved demeanor softens as he talks with you, and he even offers a few rare chuckles at your antics.
By the time dessert rolls around, only one piece of a delicate pastry remains on the plate. Jamil nudges it toward you.
“Here. You can have it.”
Instead, you pick it up and hold it out to him with a sly grin. “You made it. You deserve the last bite.”
His eyes widen slightly, and for a moment, he seems caught off guard. “That’s not necessary,” he begins, but you cut him off by leaning closer, still holding the pastry.
“Come on, Jamil. Just take it.”
He hesitates, his composure visibly wavering under your teasing smile, but finally leans forward and takes a small bite. For a second, he’s silent, likely trying to process the fact that you just fed him.
“That good, huh?” you say, laughing at the faint pink dusting his cheeks.
“You’re impossible,” he mutters, but there’s no real bite in his words.
After lunch, Jamil insists on walking you to your next class. As you approach the classroom door, you reach out and take his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“I had a great time today,” you say, looking up at him with a warm smile. “We should do this again sometime.”
His gaze softens, and he nods. “Yeah. We should.”
As you disappear into the classroom, he stands there for a moment longer, watching the door with a soft, uncharacteristic smile playing at his lips.
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You and Jamil are having a nice, peaceful stroll back from lunch when it happens. One moment, you’re chatting about something mundane, and the next, Jamil freezes like someone just hit him with a petrification spell.
“What—” you start, but his hand shoots up, silencing you.
“Don’t move,” he mutters, his voice low and intense.
Alarmed, you follow his gaze, half-expecting to see a monster, an overblot, or at least Grim setting something on fire. Instead, you spot… a beetle.
Granted, it’s a big beetle. The kind that looks like it’s been hitting the gym and maybe has a side hustle as a bodyguard for ants. It’s perched on a bush, twitching its antennae like it’s sizing you both up.
“It’s just a bug,” you say, cautiously glancing at Jamil.
“Just a bug?” Jamil hisses like you just insulted his cooking. “That thing has too many legs. It’s unnatural.”
Before you can reply, the beetle takes two slow, deliberate steps forward. Jamil, in perfect synchronization, takes two steps back.
“Jamil, seriously—”
“I’m handling this,” he interrupts, pulling out his magic pen.
Oh no. You see the look in his eyes, the slight glow of magic sparking at his fingertips, and you realize he’s about to go full Avatar: The Last Bugbender.
“Jamil, we’re not setting the school on fire over a beetle!”
“It’s me or the bug,” he deadpans.
“No, it’s me,” you mutter, resigning yourself to your fate. Sending up a quick prayer to the universe, you step forward.
“What are you doing?!” Jamil whispers harshly, grabbing at your sleeve like you’re walking into the jaws of a lion.
“Saving the school grounds from you, Pyroclasmus."
You approach the beetle, heart pounding as it shifts slightly, its shiny, armored body glinting in the sunlight.
“Shoo,” you say weakly, flapping your hand at it. The beetle stares at you, unimpressed.
“Shoo?” Jamil echoes behind you. “That’s your grand strategy?”
Before you can come up with something better, the beetle’s wings buzz ominously, and it launches itself directly at your face.
You scream. Jamil screams louder. And somehow, in the chaos, he practically climbs onto you like a human backpack.
“Kill it! Kill it now!” he shrieks, his voice breaking into a pitch you didn’t think was humanly possible.
“MAYBE A LITTLE HELP?!” you yell back, snatching up the nearest object—a notebook—and swinging it wildly like a deranged baseball player.
With a loud thwack, the beetle goes flying into the distance, vanishing into the horizon like Team Rocket blasting off again.
There’s silence. You’re panting, clutching the notebook like it’s a holy relic. Jamil is still clinging to your back, his arms wrapped around your shoulders in a death grip.
“...Did you get it?” he whispers.
“Yes, Jamil. I got it. The school is safe.”
He slowly detaches himself, his feet hitting the ground as he smooths out his uniform with a dignity that absolutely does not exist anymore.
“Well,” he says, clearing his throat, “thank you for your… assistance.”
You blink at him. “Assistance? You were hanging off me like a terrified cat!”
“I don’t recall that happening.”
“Oh, you don’t recall climbing me like a tree? Want me to ask the security cameras?”
He glares at you, his face carefully blank, but his ears are redder than Riddle after someone breaks a rule.
“Fine. You’re my knight. Happy?” he mutters, turning on his heel and stalking off.
“Anytime, your highness!” you call after him, grinning.
The next day, you find a small, ridiculously fancy cake on your desk. The note attached simply reads:
For my knight. Do not speak of this.
You laugh so hard you nearly choke.
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You’re not entirely sure how it came to this. One moment, you were enjoying a rare moment of peace, and the next, Crowley had materialized out of nowhere, looking dramatic as ever.
“Ah, my most resourceful prefect!” he’d declared. “I need your unparalleled skills for a mission of utmost importance!”
You hadn’t even had a chance to ask questions before you were handed your task: retrieve his hat, which was somehow stuck at the very top of a tree on the campus grounds.
So here you are, clinging to a branch like a very confused and irritated squirrel, glaring at the offending hat above you.
“This is fine,” you mutter under your breath, trying to edge closer to the hat without looking down. “Everything is fine. This is just my life now.”
A voice interrupts your inner monologue. “Should I even ask how you got up there?”
You twist around—bad move, the branch wobbles—and spot Jamil standing at the base of the tree, arms crossed and wearing an expression that’s equal parts confusion and mild exasperation.
“Crowley,” you call back, as though that single word explains everything.
It does. Jamil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Of course. Why am I not surprised?” He pauses, looks at you precariously perched above him, and sighs. “Stay still. I’ll help you down.”
You watch as he starts climbing the tree with an ease that feels unfair. Within seconds, he’s beside you, balancing effortlessly on a nearby branch.
“Give me your hand,” he says, extending his arm.
“I don’t know, Jamil,” you tease, even as you grab his hand. “Does this make you my knight in shining armor?”
He freezes for half a second, a faint blush dusting his cheeks, before recovering. “It makes me someone who doesn’t want to watch you break your neck,” he replies, voice dry but a little flustered.
With his help, you manage to climb down safely, landing on solid ground at last. You glance up at him as he dusts himself off, his expression as composed as ever.
“You’re surprisingly good at this,” you remark, folding your arms. “Tree climbing must be one of your hidden talents.”
Jamil snorts softly. “Someone has to be prepared for situations like this. And by ‘situations like this,’ I mean you.”
You’re about to retort when something hits you. You stare at him, then at the tree, and back at him.
“Wait a second,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes. “You could’ve just used magic to get me down.”
Jamil freezes mid-step, a guilty flicker in his eyes before his calm mask slips back into place. “...And?”
“And you climbed the tree manually?” you say, incredulous. “Why?”
He shrugs, his tone carefully nonchalant. “It seemed faster at the time.”
You gape at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Oh my God. You wanted to show off, didn’t you?”
“I did not,” he protests, though the faint flush creeping up his neck suggests otherwise.
You lean closer, grinning. “Sure, Sir Jamil, whatever you say. Next time, I expect you to storm the tree with a sword and shield.”
“Please stop talking,” he mutters, but the small smile tugging at his lips betrays him.
As the two of you head toward Crowley’s office, a new question pops into your head. “Actually, now that I think about it—why didn’t Crowley just use magic to get his own hat back?”
Jamil goes quiet, clearly considering this. After a long moment, he shakes his head. “Who knows what goes on in his mind?”
“Maybe there’s nothing in there at all,” you muse, and Jamil snorts softly, trying to cover it with a cough.
When you finally deliver the hat to Crowley, he praises you with an exaggerated flourish, and you’re pretty sure Jamil rolls his eyes behind you.
As you walk away, you glance at him and smirk. “So, does this mean we’re even? You rescued me from a tree, I rescued you from...uh, your dignity?”
“Keep talking, and I might leave you in the next one,” he says, but there’s a warmth in his voice that makes you grin.
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The aftermath of Kalim’s latest impromptu party is, as usual, chaos incarnate. Streamers hang from every surface like overzealous jungle vines, discarded cups litter the floor, and a suspiciously sticky patch near the dessert table seems to defy all attempts at cleaning.
In the center of it all is Jamil, shoulders squared, looking ready to singlehandedly wrestle the mess into submission.
“You don’t have to help,” he says, not for the first time, as you sweep a pile of crumpled napkins into a trash bag.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” you reply, giving him a pointed look. “I like cleaning.”
The blatant lie rolls off your tongue so smoothly that you almost convince yourself. Almost.
Jamil pauses, giving you a look that clearly says, I don’t believe you for a second, but he doesn’t argue further. Maybe he’s too tired to fight you on it. Maybe he’s just glad for the company. Either way, you both fall into a rhythm, clearing tables, collecting discarded decorations, and righting toppled furniture.
It’s the final stretch, and the kitchen is the last battleground. You’re standing at the sink, sleeves rolled up, elbow-deep in soapy water. Scrubbing dishes isn’t fun at the best of times, but these plates seem particularly vengeful, coated in some unholy combination of caramel and glitter.
You’re attacking a plate with the kind of intensity usually reserved for mortal enemies when you notice Jamil glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. His hands move automatically, rinsing a glass, but his gaze lingers on you.
“What?” you ask, not bothering to look up as you keep scrubbing.
“Nothing,” he says quickly, but his voice carries a strange, soft warmth.
You glance over and catch him staring. There’s something odd about his expression—soft, unguarded, like he’s seeing something he hadn’t expected.
“What?” you repeat, raising an eyebrow.
“...You hate this,” he says simply.
Your hand pauses mid-scrub. “What are you talking about?”
“You hate cleaning,” he says, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You’ve been glaring at that plate like it insulted your entire family.”
You scoff, but there’s no denying it—he’s onto you. “I do not!”
Jamil just raises an eyebrow, looking entirely too smug for someone who just spent hours cleaning up Kalim’s hurricane of a party.
You huff, realizing you’ve been caught, and turn back to your task. “Fine. Maybe I don’t like cleaning. But I wanted to help, okay?”
His hands still briefly in the soapy water, and when you glance at him, his face is unreadable.
“You stayed,” he murmurs, almost to himself.
You frown, confused. “Of course I stayed. I wasn’t gonna leave you to deal with this alone.”
He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his gaze lingers on you a moment longer, like he’s trying to memorize the sight of you standing there, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing a plate you very clearly despise.
And then it hits him, like a tidal wave. He’s absolutely, hopelessly smitten.
His chest tightens, and for once, Jamil Viper has no plan, no clever rebuttal to distract himself. He’s just standing there, fully aware of how utterly doomed he is.
“What’s with the staring?” you tease, breaking the silence.
Before he can recover, you scrunch your face into the goofiest expression you can muster, sticking out your tongue for good measure.
Jamil blinks, caught off guard. And that’s the moment he knows. There’s no going back.
He’s absolutely, irreversibly fucked.
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The basketball court echoes with the rhythmic squeak of sneakers and the thud of a bouncing ball as you step inside, Ace's notebook in hand. He’d left it in your bag—typical Ace—and since you were passing by anyway, you figured you’d return it.
But the moment you enter, your eyes are drawn to Jamil. He’s in the middle of a play, effortlessly weaving through defenders, his movements fluid and sharp like a dancer’s. There’s a precision to everything he does—the way he pivots, the way his hands cradle the ball before shooting. The arc of the shot is perfect, and when the ball swishes through the net, you realize you’ve been holding your breath.
You don’t even notice the whistle blowing for a break until Floyd’s voice cuts through your trance.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Shrimpy!”
He’s already striding over, towering above you and grinning like he’s just caught something interesting in his net. Before you can say a word, he leans down, practically draping himself over you.
“Whatcha doin’ here, huh? Come to watch us play? Or maybe—” he pauses, his grin widening mischievously, “—you’re here to cheer for me?”
“Actually, I’m just here to give Ace his notebook,” you deadpan, though you’re slightly thrown off by how casually he’s leaning into your space.
Floyd hums, completely ignoring your response as he tugs at your sleeve. “Y’know, you should stay. It’d be more fun with you watching.”
Across the court, Jamil’s gaze flickers toward the two of you. His expression is as composed as ever, but the moment Floyd leans in closer—laughing about something you didn’t even catch—there’s a subtle twitch in his jaw.
Jamil tells himself he’s not bothered. It’s just Floyd being Floyd, right? And you’re here for Ace, not… anything else.
But the longer Floyd stays glued to you, the tighter Jamil’s grip becomes on the water bottle he’s holding.
With his usual smoothness, Jamil walks over, casual but purposeful. “Floyd,” he says evenly, “coach is calling for you.”
“Huh?” Floyd tilts his head lazily, but his grin says he knows exactly what’s happening. “Didn’t hear anything.”
“Well, you won’t if you’re not paying attention.” Jamil’s tone remains calm, but there’s a subtle edge to it as he places a hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you away from Floyd.
“Ohhh,” Floyd drawls, straightening up but not stepping back just yet. His eyes dart between you and Jamil, and his grin becomes downright predatory. “I get it now.”
“Get what?” Jamil asks, though his voice is just a touch too sharp to be casual.
“Nothing~” Floyd sing-songs, finally retreating. But as he walks off, he throws a glance over his shoulder and mutters just loud enough, “Jealous, jealous, Sea Snake~”
Jamil’s composure falters for half a second before he fixes his expression. Jealous? Him? Absolutely not. That’s ridiculous.
“You okay?” you ask, clearly amused as you watch him struggle to maintain his usual cool.
“Of course,” he replies smoothly, brushing nonexistent dust off his uniform. “Floyd’s just being… Floyd.”
You can barely hold back a laugh. As composed as Jamil tries to seem, the faint flush in his cheeks and the way his eyes avoid meeting yours tell a very different story.
By the time Ace saunters over to collect his notebook, you’re grinning like you’ve uncovered the world’s juiciest secret.
“What’s so funny?” Ace asks, glancing between you and Jamil, who’s pretending to inspect his water bottle with far too much interest.
“Oh, nothing,” you say lightly, though your grin doesn’t waver.
Ace squints, then sighs dramatically. “You’re just gonna let him suffer like this, huh?”
“Maybe,” you reply with a laugh, already planning to put him out of his misery soon.
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Kalim’s parties have a reputation. They’re always loud, chaotic, and somehow manage to defy the very laws of reality. Tonight is no exception—music booms, people laugh and cheer, and the smell of rich food wafts through the air.
You’re leaning against a table, sipping on some mysterious (and surprisingly good) drink, when Floyd suddenly appears out of nowhere. Typical.
“Shrimpy!” he drawls, flashing that sharp-toothed grin of his. “Wanna dance?”
You blink at him, caught off guard. “Uh—”
“It’ll be fun!” Floyd insists, leaning in closer. His voice drops into that playful, teasing tone that promises something is about to go horribly, hilariously wrong. “C’mon, don’t be shy!”
Before you can even attempt a polite refusal, another voice cuts in, firm and unmistakably annoyed.
“They’re already dancing with me,” Jamil says, stepping between you and Floyd with a smoothness that almost masks the sharp edge in his voice.
Floyd pauses, blinking at Jamil. And then he laughs.
“Ohhhh, really? I didn’t see you on the dance floor yet, Sea Snake,” he teases, his grin only growing.
Jamil doesn’t flinch. His face is calm, composed, but you can see the faint tension in his shoulders, the way his hand clenches slightly at his side.
Floyd shrugs, backing off with a mischievous chuckle. “Guess I’ll just find someone else, then. Have fun, Shrimpy!”
As Floyd disappears into the crowd, Jamil turns to you, clearly ready to explain himself.
“I just didn’t want him to bother you,” he says quickly, eyes darting to the side. “You know how Floyd gets—”
You raise an eyebrow, not letting him finish. “Oh, so you were just saving me? That’s so sweet of you, Jamil. I don't really mind so I guess I’ll go dance with Floyd, then.”
His eyes widen, and for a moment, Jamil Viper—master of control, unparalleled tactician—looks completely and utterly panicked.
“You—you don’t have to do that,” he says, his voice uncharacteristically uneven as he grabs your hand.
You blink, taken aback by the desperation in his expression. He looks like the idea of you dancing with Floyd is physically painful to him.
You can’t do this to him. Not anymore.
“Come with me,” you say, tugging his hand and leading him toward the balcony.
The cool night air greets you as you step outside, the distant hum of music muffled by the doors. Jamil follows, quiet but tense, his hand still wrapped around yours.
You turn to face him, and he immediately starts talking, his words tumbling out faster than usual. “I just didn’t want Floyd to—”
“Jamil,” you interrupt, squeezing his hand gently. “Stop. It’s okay.”
He blinks, caught off guard.
You take a deep breath, smiling softly. “I like you, Jamil. I’ve liked you for a while now. And you don’t need to be jealous or worried or...whatever it is you’re feeling. Because there’s no one else. No one who even compares.”
His lips part slightly, and for a moment, Jamil Viper is completely speechless.
“You—you like me?” he asks, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper.
You laugh gently, stepping closer. “Yeah. I like you. A lot.”
His gaze drops to the ground, and you can see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. But then he looks back at you, his eyes warm and vulnerable in a way you’ve never seen before.
Before he can say anything else, you lean in and kiss him, your lips brushing against his softly. He freezes for a moment, and then his hand comes up to cup your cheek, his touch hesitant but firm.
When you pull back, he’s looking at you like you’ve just rewritten his entire universe.
“...You’re really something, you know that?” he murmurs, a rare, genuine smile breaking across his face.
You grin. “Took you long enough to figure that out.”
And for once, Jamil doesn’t have a single witty comeback. Instead, he just kisses you again.
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The moment the words “Jamil and I are dating” leave your mouth, the reactions are immediate and chaotic—exactly as you’d expected.
Kalim is the first to respond, his eyes lighting up like you’ve just told him you’re planning a surprise party in his honor. “Really?! That’s amazing! I knew Jamil had it in him! Oh, this is great! We have to celebrate—wait, should I throw another party?”
Jamil, standing beside you, pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kalim, please—”
But Kalim’s already planning out loud, “I’ll get the musicians, some fireworks, maybe even—”
“NO!” you and Jamil shout in unison, and Kalim looks momentarily sheepish before settling for bouncing on his heels in excitement.
The rest of your motley crew, however, isn’t as quick to jump on the “Happy Couple” train.
“Wait, Jamil?” Ace blurts out, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief. “You’re dating Jamil Viper?”
Deuce chimes in, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion. “Isn’t he... I don’t know... a little serious for you?”
Sebek, always ready to yell about something, crosses his arms and scowls. “Jamil Viper, the ever-scheming right-hand man of the Asim heir? Human, are you sure this is wise?!”
Epel, meanwhile, tilts his head thoughtfully. “I mean, he’s kinda scary... but also kinda cool?”
Jack simply stares at you, his arms crossed and his tail flicking. “You sure about this?” he asks, his voice low and cautious.
Grim, predictably, jumps in with his usual brand of over-the-top indignation. “Hold on a second, henchhuman! You’re dating that snake? What about me? Your most important ally!”
Before you can respond, Grim’s eyes narrow as if he’s about to deliver a fiery rant... but then he pauses. “Wait... didn’t he give me that plate of grilled fish last week?”
You nod slowly, unsure where this is going.
Grim strokes his chin, as if in deep thought, before finally shrugging. “Eh, he feeds me, and you seem happy. Works for me!”
Jamil, for once, looks both exasperated and amused. “Glad to have your approval,” he says dryly, earning a triumphant nod from Grim.
Meanwhile, Ace is squinting at Jamil like he’s trying to solve a complicated math problem. “Actually... wait. He’s not bad. He’s smart, he can cook... he did save my butt in Alchemy class that one time...”
Deuce rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Yeah... and he’s pretty reliable. Like, way more reliable than Ace, for sure.”
“Hey!” Ace protests, but Deuce ignores him.
Even Sebek, though still frowning, grudgingly mutters, “He is competent. For a human.”
Epel shrugs, grinning. “And he’s good at keeping up with Floyd. That alone deserves respect.”
Jack nods in agreement. “As long as he treats you right, I don’t see a problem.”
You glance at Jamil, whose ears are faintly pink despite his calm expression. “Wow,” you say, grinning at him. “You’ve won them over. I didn’t think it’d be this easy.”
“Neither did I,” he mutters, shooting a pointed look at Ace and Grim.
Kalim, still practically vibrating with excitement, claps Jamil on the back. “See? I knew they’d all come around! Oh, I’m so happy for you two!”
Jamil sighs, but there’s a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “Thanks, Kalim.”
Grim jumps onto your shoulder, wagging his tail. “Alright, henchhuman, now that this is settled, how about we celebrate with some snacks? Jamil, you’re cooking, right?”
Jamil gives him a flat look. “Don’t push your luck.”
As everyone laughs, you reach over and squeeze Jamil’s hand, and he glances at you, his expression softening. The chaos might be exhausting, but with you by his side, it’s a little more bearable—and, dare he say it, even enjoyable.
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1k Masterlist ; Main Masterlist
Gonna pick up the pace with the milestone fics now! I'll be posting Riddle next, so after that:
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used fae grandpa to test out a new tablet
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Hi ego !! :D!! I love your arts !
I just want to ask something in twst cuz the new jp update…
Spoiler ( even tho it’s nothing serious..)
I just wanted to know about deuce real hair colors, cuz i know he dyed his hair before but i need to know if its was naturally blonde, or naturally dark-blue ??
Because i first thought it was blue but then the dreams thing in deuce part shows him with blonde and. I was like (???? Wasn’t he naturally dark blue??) and just.. my brain stopped braining ( i just don’t understand jps language, and English not my first language too so not all lot of sentences i can understand-)
thank you! :D
the blue is his natural color -- he says somewhere earlier in the story that back in his delinquent days, he would bleach his hair blonde (as a reference to the Japanese stereotype of delinquent teens having bleached hair). so him being blonde in the dream is a little visual sign that he's back in that mindset!
I get the confusion though, especially because Dilla has two-tone blonde/blue...I'm still not sure if that's her natural color or if she, like, also dyed her hair for some reason. misplaced solidarity, maybe...?
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"Nothing goes unnoticed by a grandmother's heart" Read from right to left
You know, when they mentioned that Ruggie's grandmother might be worried and waiting for Ruggie... I wondered if by any chance our dear vovó Bucchi would know that something happened to her dear hyena? :D It took me a while but I FINALLY finished this mini comic!
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 14 days ago
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cried when I saw the new Ruggie card😭😭😭😭 + his blind wife's reaction hehehe
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 14 days ago
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ouch
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 15 days ago
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Twisted Stories: Suboptimal situation
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[PREV] - [NEXT] - [MASTERLIST]
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 15 days ago
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How about a request where Octa trio and idia (seperate) end up drunkenly confessing they have a crush on the reader during a moment where readers helping em + the aftermath of them realizing when sober and hung over and reacting to the situation? Feel free to delete or ignore! just had thought it could be fun
Drunken Confessions with: Octatrio + Idia
a/n: sorry for the long wait, i hope you like it <3
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Azul Ashengrotto
Azul rarely let himself slip, and by slip, you meant this. He staggered, his weight shifting heavily against your side as you supported him on the walk back to Mostro Lounge. His normally polished demeanor was gone, replaced by flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, and a faint, almost imperceptible slur in his words.
“Y-You’re…hic…so nice,” he mumbled, leaning more into you than he probably intended. “Why’re you so nice to me?”
You adjusted your hold, an amused grin tugging at your lips. “Maybe because someone has to make sure you don’t faceplant on the cobblestones, Azul.”
He blinked up at you, a soft, dopey smile crossing his face. “You’re funny. And good looking… so pretty.”
You stopped walking for a moment, looking down at him in surprise. “Are you sure you’re not hallucinating?”
“No, no, no,” he said quickly, waving his hand in what he probably thought was a convincing argument. “I’m serious! I… I think about you all the time. You’re… you’re perfect.”
Your heart skipped a beat. Azul Ashengrotto, perfectionist extraordinaire and self-proclaimed businessman, was rambling about how great you were while leaning heavily on your shoulder. You felt your cheeks heat up, but you brushed it off as the effects of the alcohol loosening his tongue.
“You can thank me when you’re sober, Mr. Compliment Machine,” you teased, continuing your trek toward his dorm.
But Azul wasn’t done. “I mean it!” he insisted, nearly tripping over his own feet. You quickly steadied him, and he looked up at you, his eyes uncharacteristically vulnerable. “I… I like you. Like… like you like you.”
Your steps faltered, and you stared at him for a moment. His expression was so sincere, even through the haze of intoxication, that it made your chest ache.
“…Azul,” you said softly, “let’s get you home first, okay?”
He blinked at you, his brow furrowing in confusion, but he nodded obediently. “Okay… but you have to promise… hic… you won’t disappear. I'll give you free coffee for life.”
“I promise,” you said with a laugh.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the curtains, and Azul groaned as the dull, pounding headache reminded him of last night’s poor decisions. He buried his face in his pillow, groaning again at the flashbacks of you holding him upright, your warm laughter echoing in his ears.
What did I do? he thought, mortified.
And then it hit him—he’d confessed. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. He sat up too quickly, clutching his head as the dizziness hit him. You must’ve been horrified. Surely, you’d bolted the moment he fell asleep, wanting to avoid the awkwardness.
But then he heard a sound from the kitchen.
Azul froze, his heart pounding for an entirely different reason now. He slid out of bed, carefully padding toward the source of the noise. There you were, standing in the kitchenette, humming softly to yourself as you poured coffee into two mugs.
You turned when you heard him, flashing him a warm smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead. I made coffee—thought you’d need it.”
Azul stared, his jaw slightly slack. “You’re… still here?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Where else would I go? You promised me free coffee for life, remember?”
Azul groaned, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t mean it.”
You laughed, stepping closer and handing him a mug. “I know. But you did mean the other thing, didn’t you?”
He stiffened, clutching the coffee mug like it might save him. “I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stammered, his face flushing.
You tilted your head, giving him a knowing smile. “The part where you said you liked me.”
Azul’s grip on the mug tightened, and he swallowed hard. “…Yes,” he admitted softly, not meeting your gaze. “I meant it. But I understand if you—”
Before he could finish, you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. His words died in his throat as he stared at you, wide-eyed.
“I like you too, Azul,” you said with a grin. “I have for a while.”
Azul blinked, his brain struggling to process your words. “…You do?”
“Obviously,” you teased. “Why else would I stick around to help you last night? You’re a handful, you know that?”
Azul’s lips twitched into a small, shy smile, the tension in his shoulders melting away. “…Thank you,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.
“For the coffee? Or for liking you back?” you teased, taking a sip of your drink.
“Both,” he replied, his gaze softening as he looked at you.
And black coffee had never tasted so sweet to him.
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Jade Leech
Jade Leech prided himself on his composure, his refinement, and his ability to remain unflappable under any circumstances. That all went out the window after a few too many drinks.
You hadn’t even expected to see him like this—flushed cheeks, a lazy, amused smile, and a rare looseness to his usual precision. He wasn’t stumbling per se, but his steps lacked their usual grace, and every so often, he swayed just enough to make you reach out and steady him.
“I must commend you,” Jade slurred, his voice as smooth as ever despite the alcohol. “You’re quite… considerate. Most wouldn’t bother with something so trivial as escorting me home.”
“Trivial? You can barely walk straight,” you said with a huff, adjusting your hold on his arm to keep him upright. “I’m not leaving you to faceplant in the dirt, Jade.”
His laugh was softer than usual, warmer somehow. “Hmm… you truly are unique.”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, yeah. Save the compliments for when you’re sober.”
But Jade had other plans. “You’re always like this,” he murmured, his gaze drifting toward you. “Kind. Thoughtful. Beautiful…”
You froze for a moment, glancing at him. “You’re drunk, Jade. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Oh, I do,” he replied, the faintest pout gracing his lips. “I’ve wanted to say it for so long… but I couldn’t. You’re so… precious to me, I couldn’t bear to—hic—risk it.”
“Risk what?” you asked softly, your chest tightening at the vulnerability in his voice.
“Losing you,” he whispered. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by a raw, unfiltered honesty that left you speechless.
You stared at him for a moment before shaking your head. “Come on, let’s get you home,” you said gently, though your heart was pounding in your chest.
The next morning, Jade woke up with a pounding headache and the faint memory of warm hands rubbing his back as you murmured reassurances. His eyes snapped open as the events of the night before came rushing back.
“…Oh no,” he muttered, burying his face in his hands.
He couldn’t believe he’d actually said it. Confessed his feelings so blatantly, without any of the careful planning or subtlety he prided himself on. And to you, of all people—the one person he couldn’t bear to push away.
Jade steeled himself. He’d handle this like any other delicate situation—with poise and precision. If he acted normal, he could convince you that his confession had been nothing more than the ramblings of a drunk man.
And so, when he saw you later that day, he greeted you with his usual calm smile. “Good morning. I trust you slept well?”
You blinked at him, a bit surprised by his nonchalance. “Uh… yeah. How about you?”
“Quite well, thank you,” he said smoothly, showing no hint of the internal panic roiling beneath the surface.
You studied him for a moment, your brow furrowing slightly. “Do you… remember anything from last night?”
“Only bits and pieces,” he replied with a polite chuckle. “If I said or did anything out of the ordinary, I do hope you’ll forgive me.”
Out of the ordinary? You were starting to wonder if you’d hallucinated his heartfelt confession. Jade was acting so normal, so perfectly composed, that it was almost infuriating.
It wasn’t until later, when you were both in the lounge, that he slipped.
“Of course, I treasure you more than anyone else,” he said offhandedly, then immediately froze as he realized what he’d just admitted.
You stared at him, your heart skipping a beat. “Wait. What did you just say?”
Jade cleared his throat, his face betraying the slightest hint of embarrassment. “Ah… I misspoke.”
“No, you didn’t,” you said firmly, stepping closer. “You meant it, didn’t you? Just like you meant it last night.”
He hesitated, his composure faltering for the first time since that morning. “…Yes,” he admitted softly, avoiding your gaze. “I meant every word.”
A smile broke across your face, and before he could say anything else, you leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Good. Because I like you too, Jade.”
His eyes widened, and for once, he was completely at a loss for words. “You… you do?”
You nodded, your grin widening. “Of course. Why do you think I stayed to take care of you last night?”
Jade’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile, his cheeks faintly tinged with pink. “I see… I suppose I should count myself lucky, then.”
“You definitely should,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “Now, are you going to keep pretending nothing happened, or are you going to take me out on a proper date?”
Jade chuckled softly, the tension melting away as he looked at you with newfound warmth. “I believe I owe you the latter, don’t I?”
And with that, the polished, unflappable Jade Leech was yours to keep.
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Floyd Leech was unpredictable on a good day. Drunk Floyd? That was another beast entirely.
He’d somehow managed to drink more than anyone else at the party, slinging his arm over your shoulder with a lopsided grin as he loudly declared you his “favorite Shrimpy.” If it weren’t for your quick reflexes, he probably would’ve knocked over at least three tables by now.
“Floyd, slow down!” you scolded, grabbing his wrist as he lunged toward a decorative vase like it was a basketball hoop. “We’re not here to redecorate.”
“But it’d look so much better broken!” he whined, leaning heavily against you. His sharp teeth flashed in a grin that was somehow equal parts adorable and terrifying. “Don’t ya think, Shrimpy?”
“No, Floyd,” you said firmly, guiding him away from the vase. “Let’s just focus on getting you home in one piece, okay?”
Floyd pouted but allowed you to steer him toward the exit, his lanky frame draped over yours like a human anchor. As you walked, he alternated between humming tunelessly, giggling at nothing, and telling you random, cryptic statements like, “The moon’s gonna eat you if you don’t smile back at it.”
“Sure, Floyd. I’ll keep that in mind,” you said, trying not to laugh.
It wasn’t until you were nearly to Octavinelle that his unhinged ramblings took a sudden, softer turn.
“You know somethin’, Shrimpy?” he said, his voice quieter now, almost wistful.
“What’s that?” you asked, adjusting your grip on him as he started to slump forward.
“I really, really like you,” he slurred, his mismatched eyes blinking up at you with a rare sincerity. “Like… not just as a buddy or whatever. I mean, like… like-like.”
You froze, your heart skipping a beat. “Floyd, you’re drunk.”
“So what?” he mumbled, his eyelids drooping. “Still true.”
Before you could respond, he let out a content sigh and promptly passed out, his head lolling against your shoulder.
“Of course,” you muttered, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. “You couldn’t confess while sober, could you?”
The next morning, Floyd was back to his usual self—or so it seemed. He greeted you with his usual wide grin and a sing-songy, “Mornin’, Shrimpy!”
You half-expected him to pretend last night didn’t happen, but instead, he seemed… more affectionate than usual. He leaned closer when he talked to you, casually draped his arm over your shoulder, and even offered you one of his prized snacks without a second thought.
It wasn’t until later, while you were both lounging in the lounge, that he dropped the bombshell.
“So, what do ya wanna do for our first date?” he asked, twirling a toothpick between his fingers.
You blinked at him. “Our what?”
“Our date,” he said, tilting his head like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You know, ‘cause we’re dating now.”
“…Floyd, you never asked me to be your partner.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Yeah, I did. Last night. Don’t you remember?”
“You were drunk, Floyd,” you pointed out.
“Still counts,” he said with a shrug, then grinned. “Unless… you don’t wanna date me?”
You stared at him for a moment, then let out a laugh, shaking your head. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Is that a yes?” he asked, leaning in with a teasing smirk.
“It’s a yes,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide your smile.
Floyd’s grin widened, and before you knew it, he was scooping you up into a crushing hug, spinning you around as he laughed. “Knew ya couldn’t resist me, Shrimpy!”
As chaotic as he was, you couldn’t help but think you were in for one wild, wonderful ride.
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Idia Shroud didn’t go to parties. Not unless someone twisted his arm—or in this case, dragged him out. His idea of fun was gaming in his room, not standing around awkwardly while extroverts did extrovert things.
And yet, here he was. Drinking something questionable because a certain someone (you) had sweet-talked him into joining.
He didn’t expect to end up three drinks deep, his face red, and leaning on your shoulder as you tried to guide him back to Ignihyde.
“Y-you don’t have to do this,” he muttered, stumbling slightly. “I’m fine. Totally fine. Just… a little dizzy.”
“Uh-huh,” you said dryly, tightening your grip on his arm. “You’re lucky I’m here, or you’d probably have wandered into the forest by now."
Idia chuckled, the sound softer and less nervous than usual. “Maybe. But you’d come get me, right? You always do…”
“Yeah, yeah,” you said, brushing off the adoration in his voice to focus on keeping him upright. “Come on, almost there.”
He was quiet for a moment, save for the occasional muttered complaint about his legs feeling like jelly. Then, he said, almost too softly to hear:
“Do you know why I always listen to you?”
You glanced at him, surprised. “Why’s that?”
“‘Cause I… I really like you,” he mumbled, his face somehow growing redder. “Like… more than I like my SSR pulls. And you know that’s saying something.”
You stopped in your tracks, staring at him. “Idia, are you—”
Before you could finish your sentence, he tripped over absolutely nothing, faceplanted into the ground, and immediately started snoring.
“…Of course,” you muttered, rubbing your temples.
The next morning, Idia woke up with a pounding headache and the horrifying realization that he’d said everything out loud.
“No. No, no, no, no,” he groaned, pulling the blanket over his head. “I’ll just… never leave my room again. Yeah. Problem solved.”
His brilliant plan lasted all of five minutes before he heard you outside his door.
“Idia, open up,” you called, your voice firm.
“N-nope! Not happening!”
You sighed loudly. “Okay. Ortho?”
“Yes?” came Ortho’s cheerful reply.
“Break the door down.”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Idia scrambled to unlock the door, cracking it open just enough to peek out. “No need to bring in the big guns! I-I’m opening it, see?”
He stepped back, allowing you inside, and immediately tried to hide behind his hair. “If you’re here to say you hate me now, just—just get it over with,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible.
“Why would I hate you?” you asked, crossing your arms.
“B-because of what I said!” he wailed, his voice cracking. “I—I confessed, and then I passed out like an idiot, and—ugh! It’s like something out of a cringe anime!”
You rolled your eyes and grabbed his hand, cutting him off mid-rant. “Idia, shut up for a second.”
“What—”
You leaned in and kissed him softly, feeling him freeze in place. When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but grin at his wide-eyed, stunned expression.
“I like you too, dummy,” you said. “Who else would I like? If not you, then who?”
Idia’s face turned scarlet, his hair flaring pink at the edges. “Y-you… you really mean that?”
“Obviously,” you teased, ruffling his hair. “Now stop hiding in your room and let’s go get some breakfast. You owe me for last night.”
Idia nodded, still too stunned to form words, but the small, shy smile on his face said everything you needed to know.
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Masterlist
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 15 days ago
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Idia cater and octanivelle (seperate) with a reader s/o who gets cuteness aggression towards their boyfriend, dragging him to privacy if they arent already in it so they can smother to boy with kisses and then just leaving them be like they just did the most normal thing, leaving the characters to react in their own ways perhaps please?
Cuteness Agression with: Idia, Cater, Octatrio
a/n: i loved the ask omg i was giggling the entire time i was writing it. sorry for the really long wait and i hope you like it
Part 2: Malleus, Rook, Lilia, Jamil, Riddle, Leona
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Idia Shroud
Idia had never considered himself cute. If anything, he was the exact opposite of what someone might find remotely attractive—awkward, perpetually hunched over, and most likely to combust if too many people looked at him at once. But then, there was you.
You, with your sunshine-like enthusiasm and boundless energy, who had the audacity to look at him—his mess of blue flames, oversized hoodie, and permanently slouched posture—and declare him the cutest thing you’d ever seen.
At first, he thought it was a joke. Surely, you couldn’t be serious. But as time passed, it became glaringly obvious: you were dead serious.
It started on a quiet afternoon. You’d found Idia tucked away in his room as usual, gaming with a focus so intense he didn’t even notice you entering. His lips were pressed into a slight pout, his brows furrowed, and his hair glowed faintly with concentration.
And that was it. Something in your brain snapped.
You didn’t even say anything, just marched over, grabbed his wrist, and pulled him out of his chair.
“H-Hey! What are you—?!” Idia stammered, flailing as you dragged him out of the room and down the hall. “I’m in the middle of a raid! I can’t just leave! My party’s gonna—”
You shoved open the door to an empty lounge, ignoring his protests, and pushed him onto the couch. Before he could even process what was happening, you pounced.
“You’re so cute, I can’t stand it!” you half-yelled, squishing his cheeks in your hands and pressing a flurry of kisses all over his face.
Idia froze. His brain blue-screened. “Wh-What—?!”
“Nope, no talking,” you said, absolutely drunk on how adorable he looked when he was flustered. You kissed him again, your hands cradling his face like he was some precious, fragile thing. “You’re so cute, it’s criminal! I’m putting you under arrest.”
“Th-That’s not—! Y-You can’t just—!” Idia’s protests were muffled by your relentless affection. His flames sparked and flickered wildly, betraying just how utterly overwhelmed he was.
After several long moments, you finally relented, leaning back to admire your work. Idia’s face was a brilliant shade of red, his hair practically sparking like fireworks. He looked dazed, his wide golden eyes staring at you like you’d just dropped from the sky.
“See? Absolutely adorable,” you said smugly, crossing your arms like you’d just won some grand debate.
Idia sputtered, burying his face in his hands. “Y-You can’t just ambush me like that! W-What if someone saw?!”
You grinned, leaning forward to gently pull his hands away from his face. “No one saw, and even if they did, so what? You’re my boyfriend, and I reserve the right to smother you in kisses whenever I feel like it.”
Idia groaned, though there was no real heat behind it. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day, I swear...”
“Worth it,” you teased, poking his cheek playfully.
From that day on, Idia learned to recognize the look.
Whenever your eyes lit up with that dangerous mix of adoration and mischief, he knew what was coming.
“Wait, wait, wait—” he’d say, hands raised as if to fend you off. “Let’s talk about this! Let’s be rational—!”
But it was always too late.
No matter where you were—whether in the library, the cafeteria, or even in the middle of a gaming session—you’d drag him off to a secluded spot, showering him with affection until he was a stuttering, blushing mess.
And the worst part? He couldn’t even be mad about it.
Because, deep down, a part of him liked it.
Liked how unapologetically you loved him. Liked how your touch, your laughter, your relentless affection made him feel like maybe—just maybe—he was worth all the trouble.
Even if it left him blushing for hours afterward.
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Cater Diamond
Cater Diamond loved attention. Loved being in the spotlight, basking in the glow of likes, comments, and shares. What he didn’t anticipate was being the target of your unique brand of attention—a combination of relentless affection and an overwhelming urge to smother him every time you deemed him too cute to function.
Which, as it turned out, was all the time.
It started with something simple: Cater had been showing you his latest MagiCam post. He was talking animatedly about angles, filters, and hashtags, and his grin was so radiant, his enthusiasm so infectious, that your brain short-circuited.
“Cute,” you muttered under your breath. But then you looked at him again—the sparkle in his green eyes, the playful way he stuck out his tongue as he scrolled through his phone—and it hit you like a freight train.
“You’re so cute, I can’t handle it!” you practically yelled, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him out of the classroom before he could protest.
Cater stumbled after you, his phone clattering to the floor. “Whoa, whoa! What’s the rush? Did I—?”
You didn’t let him finish. The moment you found an empty hallway, you spun around, cupped his cheeks, and peppered his face with kisses. “Why are you so cute all the time? It’s illegal. Illegal, Cater.”
His cheeks flushed pink as he let out a surprised laugh. “Uh… I didn’t know being adorable was a crime? Should I call the guards?”
“Yes,” you huffed dramatically. “Call them. Tell them I’m guilty of having too much cuteness aggression, and you’re the victim.”
Cater blinked, momentarily stunned into silence, and then broke into a grin so wide it could’ve lit up the entire school. “Wow, you’re like my personal hype squad! This is the best day ever.”
From that day forward, Cater learned to recognize the warning signs.
Whenever you got that look—the one where your eyes sparkled and your hands fidgeted like you were holding yourself back—he knew he was in for it.
“Let’s chill for a second,” he’d say, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “We’re in public! Don’t you wanna save this for, I dunno, somewhere private?”
You’d smile sweetly. Too sweetly. “Nope.”
And before he could escape, you’d grab him and whisk him away to some hidden corner of the school.
“Seriously, what did I even do this time?” Cater would ask, though his laughter betrayed any attempt at indignation.
“You exist, Cater,” you’d reply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And you’re cute, and I can’t stand it, so hold still.”
Cue more kisses, and more of Cater melting into a giggling mess under your relentless affection.
One afternoon, you found him lounging on the couch in the Heartslabyul lounge, scrolling through his MagiCam feed. He’d tossed on one of his oversized sweaters, and his hair was slightly mussed like he’d just rolled out of bed.
It was too much. Your self-control snapped like a twig.
“Okay, that’s it,” you said, marching over.
Cater looked up just in time to see you barreling toward him. “Oh no, not again—! Babe, wait! Let me post first—!”
You tackled him onto the couch, smothering him in kisses as he laughed and squirmed beneath you. “You’re insane!”
“And you’re adorable!” you shot back, holding his face like it was the most precious thing in the world. “It’s a problem.”
Cater gave up resisting, his arms wrapping around your waist as he laughed breathlessly. “Well, I guess there are worse problems to have than being attacked by my cute, affectionate partner”
You kissed the tip of his nose, grinning down at him. “That’s right. You should feel honored.”
“Totally,” Cater said with a wink, though the flush in his cheeks and the soft look in his eyes betrayed how much he really meant it.
Cater might have been used to playing roles, putting on masks to charm the world, but with you, there were no masks. No filters. Just him, basking in your unfiltered love, and loving every second of it. Even if it meant being smothered in kisses every time you found him too cute to handle.
Which, to your credit, was all the time.
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Azul Ashengrotto
Azul Ashengrotto prided himself on being composed, professional, and, above all, respectable. He was a businessman, a contract wizard, a man of strategy. What he absolutely wasn't prepared for was how you, his beloved, had a penchant for completely derailing his carefully curated image with something as ridiculous as cuteness aggression.
And by the Sea Witch, you were relentless.
It started one evening in the Mostro Lounge. Azul had been reviewing paperwork behind the bar, his brow furrowed in concentration, glasses perched delicately on his nose. His pen moved with precise efficiency, the soft scratch of ink on parchment the only sound as he reviewed the latest inventory reports.
You were supposed to be helping, but instead, you found yourself distracted. Watching the way his fingers tapped lightly on the countertop, how his silver hair gleamed under the soft lounge lighting, and the faint pout of his lips as he puzzled over a tricky calculation… it was too much. The man was criminally adorable.
“Azul,” you said suddenly, voice tinged with barely suppressed glee.
He hummed, not looking up. “Yes, my dear?”
You didn’t reply, instead marching over to him with a determined look.
Azul glanced up just in time to see you close the distance between you, a dangerous gleam in your eyes. “W-Wait, what are you—?”
Before he could finish his sentence, you grabbed his wrist, tugging him out of his chair with surprising strength.
“Hey!” he yelped, stumbling after you. “I’m working! The reports—!”
“Can wait,” you interrupted firmly, dragging him into one of the private booths.
“Honestly, what has gotten into—”
His protests were cut off as you shoved him onto the cushioned seat and cupped his face in your hands, your eyes sparkling with adoration.
“You’re so cute,” you said, and the way your voice wavered with sheer affection sent Azul’s heart racing.
“I—what?” he sputtered, his composure crumbling.
“You’re so cute,” you repeated, practically vibrating with energy. “I can’t stand it. I have to kiss you. Right now.”
Azul’s face turned a brilliant shade of red, his glasses slipping slightly down his nose. “T-That’s hardly appropriate—!”
You didn’t let him finish, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead, then his cheeks, then his lips.
Azul went completely still, his brain scrambling to process what was happening. His carefully constructed persona, the one he worked so hard to maintain, was nowhere to be found. Instead, he was just a blushing, flustered mess, completely at your mercy.
When you finally pulled back, his wide-eyed expression made you giggle. “There. Much better,” you said, sitting back with a satisfied smile.
Azul blinked at you, utterly speechless. He adjusted his glasses with trembling fingers, trying—and failing—to regain some semblance of dignity. “Y-You can’t just… do that!”
“Sure I can,” you replied, unrepentant. “You’re my boyfriend. It’s in the job description.”
Azul opened his mouth to argue but faltered when he saw the way you were smiling at him—like he was the most precious thing in the world. His heart stuttered, and he looked away, flustered beyond belief.
“You’re insufferable,” he muttered, though there was no real heat behind his words.
“And you love it,” you teased, leaning in to steal another kiss.
From that moment on, Azul realized he had to be on high alert.
You had a habit of striking at the most unexpected times. Whether he was mid-negotiation, organizing the lounge staff, or simply trying to enjoy a quiet cup of tea, you always found a way to pull him aside and smother him with affection.
“We’re in public,” he’d hiss, his face bright red as you kissed his knuckles in the middle of the lounge. “What will the customers think?”
“They’ll think I’m the luckiest person in the world,” you replied with a grin, completely unfazed.
“You’re impossible,” Azul groaned, burying his face in his hands.
But despite his protests, there was a small, secret part of him that loved it. Loved the way you looked at him with stars in your eyes. Loved the way you laughed when he got flustered. Loved the way you made him feel like he was more than just a businessman, more than just the awkward, insecure octo-mer he used to be.
He would never admit it aloud, of course—his pride wouldn’t allow it. But the next time you grabbed his hand and dragged him away with that mischievous glint in your eye, Azul didn’t resist nearly as much as he claimed he would.
Because, really, who was he to deny you?
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Jade Leech
Jade Leech was many things—elegant, composed, a touch unnerving when the moment called for it—but "cute" wasn’t exactly the first adjective that came to mind for most. For you, however, the sight of him was downright devastating.
The poised way he carried himself, the sly curve of his lips when he smiled, the faint glint of mischief in his mismatched eyes—it was all so unbearably adorable that it practically short-circuited your brain.
And it wasn’t like you could keep it to yourself. No, you had to act on it. Every time.
The first time it happened, you were sitting in the Mostro Lounge, watching Jade work. He moved with his usual grace, balancing trays, speaking softly to patrons, and wearing that infuriatingly charming smile that made your heart race.
“Are you alright?” His smooth voice cut through your daze. He was standing right in front of you now, head tilted ever so slightly, curiosity evident on his face.
You blinked, realizing you’d been staring. “Uh… yeah! Just… appreciating you.”
Jade’s smile widened. “How flattering. And what, pray tell, have I done to earn such attention?”
Oh, no. He was being cute and smug about it. That did it. You couldn’t take it anymore.
Grabbing his wrist, you tugged him behind the lounge counter, away from the prying eyes of the customers. “Jade, I can’t—I need to—just stay still!”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly amused but also intrigued. “Stay still for what, exactly?”
You didn’t answer, too busy cupping his face and pressing kisses all over it. His forehead, his cheeks, his nose—every inch of him was a target.
“Oh...” His voice trailed off, his usual composed demeanor slipping as he blinked down at you, utterly flabbergasted. “What… are you doing?”
“Kissing you, obviously,” you mumbled between smooches, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
Jade chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your lips as you kissed his jawline. “I see that. But why the sudden… enthusiasm?”
“Because you’re too cute,” you declared, pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “And if I don’t do this, I’ll explode. It’s science.”
Jade’s smile shifted into something softer, warmer. For a moment, he didn’t say anything, simply studying your flushed, determined face. Then, with a low hum of approval, he gently wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.
“Well, far be it from me to stand in the way of scientific necessity,” he teased, leaning in to steal a kiss of his own.
From that point on, your "cuteness attacks" became a regular occurrence.
Whether he was reorganizing the terrarium in the Mostro Lounge, brewing potions in the lab, or simply enjoying a quiet moment with tea, you always found a way to interrupt him with your overwhelming affection.
“Dear,” he said one evening, as you practically tackled him onto the couch in the lounge’s VIP room. “You know I had work to finish, yes?”
“Uh-huh,” you replied, pinning him beneath you as you kissed his nose.
“And you’re aware this is highly disruptive?”
“Yup,” you said, grinning as you kissed the corner of his lips.
Jade sighed, but the way his arms came up to wrap around you betrayed his true feelings. “You are incorrigible,” he murmured, his voice fond.
“Thank you,” you replied cheerfully, planting one final kiss on his forehead before letting him sit up.
But Jade wasn’t one to let you have all the fun.
One afternoon, after dragging him away from his duties yet again to smother him with kisses, you found yourself suddenly spun around and pinned gently against the wall.
“Now, now,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he leaned in close. “It seems only fair that I get a turn, wouldn’t you agree?”
Your breath hitched as his mismatched eyes glinted with amusement, and before you could respond, he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple. Then your cheek. Then your jaw.
“J-Jade!” you stammered, your face heating up.
“Yes, my dear?” he replied, entirely too smug as he trailed his lips to the corner of your mouth.
“This—this isn’t how it’s supposed to go!”
He chuckled, finally pulling back to look at you. “Oh? And how is it supposed to go?”
You pouted, crossing your arms. “I’m supposed to be the one attacking you with affection, not the other way around!”
Jade smiled, a rare, genuine expression that made your heart skip a beat. “I suppose turnabout is fair play, wouldn’t you say?”
And as he leaned in to kiss you again, you decided that, yeah, maybe it was.
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Floyd Leech
Being in a relationship with Floyd Leech meant two things: chaos and spontaneity. But what Floyd didn’t expect was the level of cuteness aggression you’d unleash on him daily.
It started innocently enough. Floyd would flash you one of his sharp-toothed grins, or he’d laugh that unhinged laugh of his, and you’d feel your entire brain short-circuit.
His mismatched eyes, the way his hair fell over his face, the effortless energy he carried—it all combined into something so painfully adorable that you couldn’t handle it.
And you didn’t.
The first incident occurred in the Mostro Lounge during a busy shift. Floyd was juggling three trays like a circus act, laughing at a poor customer’s flustered expression. You were seated at the counter, watching him, and suddenly, it hit you.
“Shrimpyyy! What’re ya staring at?” Floyd called, his grin only widening as he caught you watching him.
Bad move. That grin. That grin was your undoing.
You slammed a tip down on the counter and marched straight up to him. “Floyd. Put the trays down.”
“Huh? But—”
“Put them down,” you said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him behind the counter before he could even think to protest.
“Oi, Shrimpy, what’s the deal?!”
“You. Are. Too. Cute!” you hissed, before cupping his face and attacking him with kisses.
“Wha—hey!” Floyd’s laughter echoed through the empty kitchen as you smothered his cheeks, nose, and forehead with kisses. “You’re so weird! I love it!”
By the time you were done, Floyd’s face was flushed (a rare sight), and his laughter had turned soft, almost shy.
“Shrimpy,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “You’re lucky I like ya so much. Otherwise, I’d squeeze ya for embarrassin’ me like this.”
You grinned, pulling him in for one last peck on the lips. “You love it.”
“…Yeah, I do,” he admitted, the grin returning full force.
This became a regular thing. Anytime Floyd did something that struck you as particularly adorable—whether it was his lazy, stretched-out posture during naps, the way his lips pouted when he was annoyed, or even the way he lit up like a kid when he got his favorite snacks—you’d pounce.
“Shrimpy, you’re at it again!” he’d laugh, squirming in your arms as you peppered kisses all over his face. “What’s the big idea, huh?”
“You’re too cute. I can’t stand it,” you’d reply every time, as if that explained everything.
And for Floyd, it kind of did.
One particularly memorable incident happened during a basketball game. Floyd was on fire, scoring point after point while practically dancing across the court. His energy was infectious, and you couldn’t help but cheer louder than anyone else in the stands.
When the game ended and his team won, Floyd looked up at you, his grin wide, sweat dripping down his face, and he yelled, “Did ya see that, Shrimpy?! I’m the MVP!”
That was it. That was the moment. You didn’t even wait for him to come to you. You climbed down from the bleachers, sprinted across the court, and tackled him in a hug.
“Shrimpy! What’re ya—”
“You’re so cute when you’re excited!” you exclaimed, kissing his sweaty cheek.
The entire gym went silent as everyone stared, but Floyd? Floyd cackled so loudly that it echoed off the walls.
“Ha! You’re unbelievable, Shrimpy,” he said, hugging you back tightly. “But I like that about ya. Keep it comin’!”
It wasn’t just in public, either. Even in quiet moments, Floyd basked in your affection.
One night, as the two of you lounged on the couch in your dorm, Floyd rested his head on your lap, dozing lightly. His peaceful expression, the way his lashes rested against his cheek, the soft rise and fall of his chest—it was too much.
“Floyd,” you whispered, nudging him gently.
He opened one eye, looking up at you. “Hmm? What’s up, Shrimpy?”
“You’re adorable,” you said simply, leaning down to kiss his forehead.
He chuckled, shifting to wrap his arms around your waist. “Man, you’re obsessed with me, huh?”
“Yep. Totally obsessed.”
“Good,” he said, pulling you down so you were lying on top of him. “’Cause I’m obsessed with ya too.”
Floyd might have been unpredictable and chaotic, but there was one constant in his life: you, and the relentless affection you showered him with.
And if anyone dared to comment on it, Floyd would just grin, throw an arm around you, and say, “What? Shrimpy can’t help themselves. I’m irresistible, duh!”
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Masterlist
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 15 days ago
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Book 7 episode 11
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 15 days ago
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"Stupid" Things the TWST Cast Believed As Kids
I was going to post this without a preamble but it just looked wrong LMAO -----------------------------------------------------
Heartslaybul
Riddle - He just mispronounced a lot of words out loud. This is actually common in a lot of kids that read a lot, they don't know how to say a word any differently than the way they've pronounced it in their head, so some examples: (Ladle -> would rhyme with Saddle, Rhythm had over-emphasis on the first 'h', etc.)
Trey - thought butter was made from the fat collected off of cow butts ('butt' was also the only 'naughty' word he knew for a long time). The thing is he had probably seen his parents make butter. either by accident or on purpose and it still didn't click for him.
Cater - only ate black beans, (when they were served). when he was a kid because he thought they were the same as coffee beans. He saw his dad eating chocolate covered coffee beans and got mad when he denied him the Delight Of Caffeine at Three Years Old so thought eating black beans was like. A super sneaky way of being like his dad.
Deuce - Chocolate covered strawberries came from a special plant, he didn't think his mom just set them up for him sometimes. He ended up asking more than a few times when his strawberries were plain when they could 'go back to the store and get the good kind' and would call the strawberries without chocolate 'rotten'.
Ace - For whatever reason, he didn't think bears were a real animal. Just. Teddy bears existed. And of course when his big brother showed him pictures of real bears he thought he was messing with him. Ace will not admit how long it took him to realize that bears are real.
Savannaclaw
Leona - Falena told him once that vanilla extract comes from 'beaver butt juice' and it was in all the vanilla flavoured desserts he's ever had. Yes Falena was messing with him to get his portion of desserts because Leona was too grossed out to eat them. It managed to last about 6 months before Leona was fed up and researched the information on his own.
Ruggie - His grandma protected him best she could from food scarcity, so he genuinely believed she knew how to make something from nothing. Same with his clothes.
Jack - Refused to eat hotdogs because he thought they were made from real dogs and cried whenever he saw someone else eating hot dogs. Even when they bough turkey hot dogs he thought they added 'turkey flavouring' to the Dogs.
Octavinelle
Azul - Thought cuttlefish were 'cuddlefish' and would get so SO upset when they didn't want to snuggle with him
Jade - When he first heard the word 'hermaphrodite' he thought it meant someone who just really really liked hermit crabs.
Floyd - Was SO disappointed to find out ice cream didn't scream while you eat it (I-scream)
Scarabia
Kalim - Used to try and eat really fast, so Jamil told him if he ate his food too hot his tongue would melt to the top of his mouth. (Yeah Jamil got in trouble for that one but it worked, Kalim savoured his food and he still makes sure his food is cooled down a little before he eats).
Jamil - Didn't eat yogurt for a long time because he didn't want to 'feed the bacteria in his belly'. That was his only reasoning.
Pomefiore
Vil - thought candy cigarettes were real cigarettes, this resulted in him biting one of his dad's or fellow actor's cigarettes and Regretting it. (Even the fake ones are filled with like an herbal blend, you don't want to eat it still)
Rook - kinda sad, but genuinely thought termites were considered dessert. They were fairly rampant in his home so he would eat them any chance he got (raw termites supposedly taste like pineapple).
Epel - yeah he thought he was a werewolf, there isn't much else to add.
Ignihyde
Idia - Thought that microwaving a spider/other bugs for a very short amount of time would mutate their DNA and he could keep it as a pet, despite many failed attempts, he continued trying.
Ortho - (insert ugly crying here thinking about baby boys early years) he really believed that one day Idia would find a way to bring the characters from tv/video games into 'real life' so they could have play dates with them. (Idia promised him he would try his best)
Diasomnia
Malleus - He thought computers were a type of pet people could have.
Lilia - Used to think that the stars were really big glow bugs
Silver - Fully believed the storks deliver babies thing. Not because of Lilia, but because of a story book and it made things easy so he just rolled with it anyways, until Silver was old enough.
Sebek - That the fountain of youth was real - he wanted to drink from it once he reached his prime so that he could serve Malleus always.
Others
Che'nya - Refused to believe that gum ever came from trees because he 'tried sap before and it didn't even taste like syrup so how could something sweet as gum come from trees'.
Najma - Thought she was able to talk to ghosts, it was just Jamil fucking with her lskjfhsldkjfsdf
Neige - Didn't know what owls were, called them tree penguins.
Rollo - Called ambulances 'Body Rescue Busses' because even as a kid he knew only God could save your soul. (you can take that seriously or as satire idc) -------------------------------------------------------- @fluffle-writes thank you for the compliments, and the motivation to write!! ljfkjdshflkjsdf
If you want to be on a taglist in the future lmk
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 15 days ago
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in which you bargain with jade in an attempt to stall him and his brother during book 3 while leona destroys azul's contracts. it ends up being a long-term deal. jade leech x reader warnings: blood, biting, slightly suggestive
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For all the running and jogging that the Savanclaw members had you do for staying in their dorm, it wouldn't do much to help you escape the grasp of the Leech twins. A game of tag that lasts until sunset would ruin your chances of getting back a dorm that you don't even own. You blame Ace, Deuce, and Grim for all the misfortune that had befallen upon your head. It wasn't that you were a pushover either to give in into helping them, but Crowley would never let you hear the end of it if Grim never passes through this college.
You were already out of breath, barely clinging onto a rock as you floated about while your companions continued to evade the energetic Floyd. You could already see Grim losing stamina, having worked himself to the bone under Azul's heel. Deuce and Ace would run out of energy to keep up as well, and you know very well that Jack can't handle both twins on his own.
As if an opportunity presented itself to you, a long shadow had been summoned behind you. Two large webbed hands were outstretched, ready to grab and restrain you. With a gulp, you whipped your entire body back and held your hands out with warning.
"Wait! Wait! Wait! Hold it!"
Jade paused, his expression unchanging. His flexed biceps remained afloat, ready to lunge at the most opportune moment. However, what's the fun in catching prey that doesn't stand a chance? The mer-eel hummed, lips itching to curl into a smirk. "Oh? The Prefect demands a time out." His brother hears him, slowing down his moments to stare at the two. Had it been anyone else requesting this time-out, Floyd would've ignored it all. However, this is little Shrimpy we're talking about.
And the thing about Shrimpy, is that Shrimpy always makes it fun.
You puff up your cheeks, determination flashing across your features as you leaned up towards Jade. "I'll offer you a deal if you stop chasing us down right now!" Jade smiles, almost amused by your display of defiance. You look like a little puffer fish with little fins, especially with that pout of yours. Nonetheless, for all your charms, it does nothing to keep the ell from shaking his head. "I cannot do that, prefect. My task is to ensure that you and your friends are subdued. Letting you go would simply get me in big trouble."
Your lower lip trembles at his cool response. Raising a finger, you take a quick side-glance at your exhausted companions. The photo is still in Deuce's fist, much to your relief. "How about a minute headstart? Give us a minute to get away and then you can resume. I'm sure you can catch up." Jade's smile does not fade at your nervous stammers. A part of him wishes that you had bargained for more, but not a single one of your pleas would make a difference.
"Your capture is inevitable, Prefect. What would you be proposing anyways?" Now that you think of it, you didn't exactly think this through. Though your expression was a perfect poker face, you could see Ace's expression pale as Floyd's smile grew bigger and bigger. Jade's expression always remained the same, but you knew very well than to trust his humble exterior. "Time's ticking. Azul can wait, but I know you cannot."
He was no different than a bloodhungry shark, really.
Biting onto your inner cheek, you continued to stare at Jade in an attempt to find a bargain worth his time. In the very few encounters you have had with him, however, you've barely had a clue on what he could possibly want. Riddle had mentioned that this twin ran a weird club that you cannot recall. You imagine that Jade must not have many companions, considering his reputation as one of Azul's grunts, not to mention his vice-housewarden as well.
"Shrimpy, you better hurry up before I squeeze ya!"
"And you know better than to think Floyd is as patient as I."
And then there's Floyd, extremely unpredictable. It was definitely the right choice to bargain with Jade, yet at the same time, you would be better off sacrificing yourself to be squeezed by Floyd than to offer something Jade would want. You barely know him, after all.
Jade hummed, flexing his arms as he allowed himself to float, casting a large shadow over you. You could see his tail twitch, ready to push and wrap itself around you; a punishment for trying to bargain with a Leech.
"Time's up—"
"I'll give you the experience of dating a human!"
"Oh?"
"WHAT!?" Ace screeched, much to Floyd's amused expression. "Prefect, have you gone insane?!"
Even for just a split second, you swore that you saw his eyes flicker with surprise. Jade recovers quickly, staring blankly at you as if it were something so casual. His menacing stance dissipates as he swam towards you, circling your figure as you both floated by the sand. Putting up that collected smile, Jade's fangs reflected the sunlight seeping in from the waters. "Indulge me, what are the benefits of such?"
"He's considering it?!" Ace yelled even louder, suddenly fearful for your life. Deuce is praying now, and Jack could only sigh as he began to plan a way to snatch you from Jade's grasps.
Clearing your throat, you pointed an accusing finger at him. "For starters, you are one of the most frightening students in this school. What makes you think you'll get a human to give you a chance once you graduate?" Jade raises a brow, but he doesn't even get the chance to react once you leap forward and place a firm hand on his cheek, pulling back his lip to reveal his sharp fangs.
"You got big sharp teeth, and you look like you're about to eat someone for breakfast!" Floyd anticipates a reaction from Jade. No one, especially a human, had the gall to touch him like that. Just then, you surprise both the twins as you open up your own mouth, flashing your teeth as if it were the most casual thing in the world. The unhinged twin let out a howl of laughter, clutching at his stomach as he observes the way a light pink blush overtakes Jade's stunned expression. "Wow, Shrimpy's bold!" Floyd cackled loudly to himself.
"Humans are used to this, and are most certainly not afraid of the likelihood of being eaten by their significant other. You probably don't have humans in your diet, but those teeth of yours don't scare me!"
Jade cannot bring himself to say another word once you shut your mouth. You pouted, crossing your arms. By this point, you're simply yapping desperately in hopes to stall time for your companions who needed to catch their breaths. You let out a sigh, shaking your head to yourself at the thought of being squeezed for such a poor bargain. "I know barely anything about merfolk. I may come from another world, but that doesn't mean I'm not willing to learn. You get the once-in-a-lifetime experience of getting to toy with someone who knows absolutely nothing about your mannerisms and habits. You get a completely fresh start to pursue romance!"
You hear an even louder sigh in the background, presumably Jack's. Maybe you hear Deuce weeping as well. "It's been nice knowing you, Prefect..."
None of their worries deter you as you boldly swam towards Jade who seems to have recovered from his shock. His eyes widened as you are barely inches away from his chest, looking up at him despite his intimidating form. "And I am willing to do anything you want! I'll eat whatever you make, go wherever you want to go, join you in your hobbies— you'll get the complete boyfriend treatment package!" Your eyes are squeezed shut now, almost anticipating the sensation of crushed ribs in a matter of seconds now.
"We can just skip to the dating part too! Sure, we can get to know each other as time passes—"
"I accept."
"And I— What?" Your eyes open just as Jade cups his own cheek, looking down on you with what looked like endearment. You cannot even tell if he's amused by the idea of getting a new toy, or is simply infatuated with the idea of being in a relationship. Or both. Your jaw goes slack as Jade chuckles to himself, moreover amused by the situation as a whole.
Suddenly, Jade appears intimidating again once he casts that long shadow on you once more. "I accept your bargain, Prefect." He cooed, that content smile on his face. You could only return a weak smile of your own, slowly realizing the implications of the bargain he just agreed to. You don't even notice the long tail that has been wrapping itself around you gently, not until you feel that fin against your thigh.
"Of course, you and I will have to discuss scheduling in further detail. I suppose you can make time for me once my shifts at the Mostro Lounge are finished."
Squeeze. A light gasp leaves your lips as you felt his body constrict around you, but not enough to the point of suffocation. No, Jade is firm, but not clumsy at all. A webbed finger tilts your chin upwards, and you are hypnotized by that one glowing eye burying itself into your gaze. "Or perhaps, I can just come to you instead." You cannot tell whether your heart is beating from fear or excitement as Jade flashes toothy grin, the same one he gives to his prey.
"I am very excited." Slowly, you learn how to breathe properly again as Jade's long body loosens around your form. Jade's grin relaxes into a smile, a brighter one. "I suppose none of it will matter when Azul takes your humble abode. Maybe I should ask for a bonus for providing my assistance in the matter." Floating once more, you give him a wobbly smile as you nod in agreement. Just as you were ready to swim away, his webbed hand grasped your forearm to keep you from leaving.
"To make sure you aren't pulling my fin," His face is so close to yours own. He maintains that polite smile that seems to betray his intent. "May I ask you to seal the deal with a kiss, Prefect? All contracts surely must have some formality."
You let out a shuddered breath, feeling his biceps flex around your shoulders. Forcing yourself to meet his gaze, you nodded shyly. "Okay."
Kissing Jade Leech was not on today's bingo card, but it might as well be done to let Grim catch a few more breaths. Your hand slides up to cup his smooth jaw, covered in slime and viscera. Moving closer now, you suck in a deep breath before finally pressing your lips against his. It is gentle, so much unlike the cruel sea. You feel the vibration of his lips as he hums, reciprocating the act by mimicking your hand placement and pushing his own lips towards you.
For a moment, you would have believed that Jade may be a gentle lover. Sucking in a quick breath in the middle of the kiss, you gasped as you felt a tongue swipe over your bottom lip, attempting to pry your mouth open even more for him to explore. You should have expected Jade to be this bold. Slowly prying your jaws apart further, your efforts were discarded just as you feel sharp teeth dig down onto your lip.
"Mmph!" It was your first instinct to pull away, but he does not let you. His webbed hand cradled the back of your head, keeping you there as he lapped at the blood seeping from the wound he created. It stings, then calms, then stings, then calms again as he made a mess of your reddened face. As his tongue swiped against one of the cuts, however, you couldn't stop yourself from biting down out of reflex.
Jade gasped into the kiss, recoiling away with surprise. Snapping your eyes open, both of you stare at each other's reddened lips, along with the red wisps dancing in the water. You can't believe you just bit Jade Leech, and this time, you prepare yourself for a deadly squeeze that never comes. Instead, you see that polite smile of his again, but that look in his eyes screamed absolute infatuation. You gulped, feeling your heart pound even faster as you consider diving in for another kiss, as crazy as it sounded.
Nonetheless, all good ideas must come to a pause. Jade's chuckles reached your ears as he backs away, shifting his body slightly to show you how far away your companions are now. It seems that you didn't hear them beckoning you to swim away with them.
"Your minute has already started, Prefect. Best to start swimming, no? Just because we are an item now, doesn't meant I will be going easy on you." Whipping your head towards Jade, you were about to reprimand him for such words until you recall your bargain. Cheeks burning pink once more, you couldn't bring yourself to keep staring at his calm smile anymore. Turning your back on him, you begin to swim as fast as you could, tuning out Floyd's cackles behind you. You never really get to see Jade's wide smile as his fingers brush across the little wounds on his lip.
"Don't swim too far, Shrimpy! Or shall I call you Shrimpy-in-law now?!"
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ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit · 15 days ago
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*ੈ✩‧₊˚ requiem of a cringe
did something embarrassing last night and was like "I need to go crawl in a hole and die. OR I could write"
type of post: blurbs characters: cater, rook, jack, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral (the term "damsel in distress" is used in vil's part, but it's meant to be teasing and not indicative of the reader's gender), reader is yuu, rook is rook
I. Talks Too Much
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It's not that you're trying to be annoying.
Your mouth simply moves faster than your mind, and before you know it, you've been talking for twenty uninterrupted minutes about... well... nothing.
You always notice that uncomfortable, irritated look on their face just after you're done. And then you keep rambling in an attempt to make it less awkward (it never does).
And now you're here, hiding in the hedge maze outside Heartslabyul, thinking about getting lost and never coming out of it.
Of course, if anyone were to find you now, it'd be him.
"Hey, hon~ you busy?"
"Please, not now, Cater," you mutter.
The boy stills, looking a little taken aback by how miserable you sound.
"Are you still upset about that thing at the Unbirthday Party? That was hours ago, babe! I bet no one even remembers,"
You physically cringe. The faces of your uncomfortable tablemates won't seem to leave your memory...
"I remember it," you murmur, burying your face in your hands. "I'm so annoying."
For once, Cater is quiet. A minute goes by, and you think he may have left, until you hear the grass crunching under his knees as he kneels down and pulls you into a hug.
"You are not annoying. And even if you were, it'd only make me like you more," he mutters, burying his face in the crook of your neck.
"Understand?"
Your surprise at his change in tone doesn't stop you from hugging back. "Understood,"
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You hadn't meant to say all of that.
You just spilled a potion you'd been working on for hours, and amidst your frustrated floor-scrubbing, you had vented about your entire week to your poor lab partner, a person you had been trying to impress all semester.
He had, gracefully, let you finish your rant, and then let you sit in it, just like the harmless potion now coating your knees as you cleaned up the floor.
Then, he awkwardly said: "That... sucks. I guess. I don't know what to say,"
There had probably never, in your whole life, been a person who looked more unhappy to be around you.
Afterwards, you found a nice spot in the woods behind campus to die.
You lie there, hoping nature would reclaim you before next alchemy class, when some purposefully loud rustling in the bushes catches your eye.
"Ah, Trickster! You really should not lie like that- a predator will take that as weakness, non? Are you injured?"
"Only my pride,"
"Talking about it will make you feel better," Rook says. It's more of a demand than a question.
You sigh. "I think I've done enough talking for... ever, actually,"
"Nonsense," he suddenly straddles your waist and pins your wrists to the earth. "I will not move until you tell me the problem, mon cœur."
You're like an animal in a snare. Once Rook has made up his mind, that's it. He will find out.
And so, with a sigh, you let him take the kill- that is, you tell him everything. Your whole, terrible week, the potion incident, the look on your lab partner's face...
When you're done, he's just. Smiling. "I see now. You are embarrassed,"
"Well... yes. You don't think that's embarrassing?"
He beams. "You are simply overflowing with beautiful emotion and passion for la vie! How could I ever find that embarrassing? You and I are not so different,"
In a weird way, that makes sense. Rook is never one to let shame hold him back from expressing his feelings.
He smiles at your pensive expression, and gives you a kiss on the head.
"Mais, next time you are upset, maybe you should come to me first, non?"
II. Clumsy
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Forgetful, scatterbrained, oblivious, dimwitted are all words you've become used to hearing.
As well as a few colorful swears.
You have two left feet, even when you're not dancing- you're used to walking into walls, tripping, and dropping things- it just sucks that you have an audience now.
The first years that had gathered around the mess you made- tripping over your own feet and spilling the papers you were meant to deliver to Ace and Deuce all over the floor- are watching with grins and phones out.
You pretend they're not there, even with their taunts and whistles and laughter.
"Hey! Loitering is a waste of time!" someone barks. Literally.
You look up to see Jack moving through the crowd, scolding the other first years for blocking the hall.
When he sees you in the eye of the storm, on your hands and knees picking up your spilled papers, something upset takes his usually-stoic demeanor.
"What's the matter with you?!" he snarls at the boys. "Didn't anyone teach you any manners?! It's rude to stare- and laugh!"
His ears are flattened against his head when he kneels down beside you to help, collecting the papers, and putting them in your hands.
"Come on, we'll be late if you keep 'sittin there,"
Jack pulls you to your feet and gives one final snarl to the other first years before walking you off.
"...Thanks,"
"Eh? Don't mention it," he says. "Leona woulda had my tail if I just walked by..."
You know there's more to it than that, but you don't push. You're just happy he's forgotten to take his hand out of yours.
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You can't handle being the center of attention.
For good reason, too- you're awkward, clumsy, and about the least graceful a person can get.
A true Ugly Duckling at a place like NRC. But Vil Schoenheit sees the swan in you. Perhaps that's why he's always been so patient and sweet.
It's a little distracting.
So much is obvious when he waves at you in the hall and, distracted by his smile, you walk right into a wall.
Though you can't see anything but stars after falling on your butt, the stares and snickers of everyone else are hard to miss.
Vil glares them away with a look that could kill twice over, and then stands over you as you lay on the floor.
"Come on," he says, holding out a hand. "I'll check you for concussion."
He brings you to Pomefiore and sits you down, shooing off a few curious underclassmen as he checks your pupils. "Do you feel nauseous?"
"Not really,"
"Then you'll be fine. Just a bump. You really should be more careful, though,"
You've heard that one before. Vil smiles at your dazed expression, and presses a cold compress against your head.
"This will help with the swelling,"
"Thanks," you mutter, still a little out of it. "You're my hero."
His eyebrows raise in true surprise, and then he chuckles. "And that makes you a damsel in distress?"
He doesn't give you a chance to respond before taking away the compress and kissing the red mark on your head.
"Don't think that being so cute is going to distract me. I'll make some time for lessons on poise this weekend,"
III. Unsociable
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You'd think that being quiet and staying out of people's ways would get them to leave you alone, but it really just attracts more attention.
And after a grueling period of your tablemates making you the butt of every joke ("wow, I didn't know you could even talk!" "are you quiet because you hate us? come onnn, you can tell me!") you were ready to bury yourself alive.
"I don't ever want to leave," You mumble into the bundle of sheets and blankets on Idia's unmade bed.
"You could stay, y'know," Idia says from his desk, mindlessly scrolling through some gaming forum. "I should blackmail Crowley into letting you stay down here at least half the year."
"Couldn't it be the whole?"
"Nah. You need like, sunlight and stuff,"
"And you don't?!"
Idia snickers. "I'm built different. You know that. I get all my nutrients from blue light... You could at least stay for the weekend, though,"
You roll your eyes.
"...And I'll leak those normies' data. I'm sure I could get into their browser histories and have that emailed to their parents,"
Hm. You genuinely consider it for a moment, but eventually decide to give mercy. You're basically a saint.
"I think I just wanna pretend like I don't exist right now,"
Idia nods in understanding and pushes his gaming chair over to the edge of the bed, before crawling in and wrapping himself around you.
"That can be done. Pancakes tomorrow?"
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Sure, there were people who talked to you, but you didn't talk back.
You just don't know how, you suppose. Every time you try, you end up saying the wrong thing, or are accidentally rude, or do something embarrassing.
You don't understand the references people make. You don't get social cues or hints. You have the social skills of an oyster.
Four months at Night Raven College, and you didn't have a single friend.
Well- except for him.
"How are you enjoying your tea?" Malleus asks, polite and curt as ever.
You take another sip- it's tangy, sweet, with a hint of bitterness. Some sort of Briar Valley blend that Malleus had imported just for you.
"I really like it,"
He smiles. "I'm pleased,"
One of the things you find so agreeable about Malleus is his simplicity. He often says exactly what he means; albeit, in a sort of 13th century Lord sort of way.
There's less stress with him. You don't have to pretend to be interesting, or outgoing, or cool. You can just be... you.
Because he likes you.
"You know," you say with a faint smile. "You're so nice to me. Sometimes I think that you're the only person I need. I could be happy with just you for the rest of my life."
You had meant that casually, but when you look back up from your cup, Malleus has this... look.
Wide-eyed, his lips pressed firmly together. There's even a dusting of color on his cheeks.
"Oh," you internally panic. Was that too much? Was that weird? Did you make things awkward again? Crap, you should have just acted normal, what's wrong with you?! "S-sorry, I-"
"Do you truly mean that?"
You go quiet, looking back at him with wide eyes. Your heart is pounding against your chest.
"...Yes,"
Malleus hums, his expression becoming more... pensive, and then...
He smiles. "I feel the same. Shall we go for a walk while the night is still young?"
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