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himasgod · 2 days ago

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hello :3 i just discovered your blog, and your incredible! so i wanted to request smth for twisted wonderland! housewardens with a yuu who made music in their world & has stopped after coming to twisted wonderland? their genre is sad indie rock, like lana del ray or jeff buckley!! up to you how they find out! thank you for your time!!

Where they discover that you are a composer and singer of sad songs

HOUSEWARDENS X READER

How would the housewardens react if they somehow found out that in your world you were a writer and singer of sad indie songs, and that you stopped when you arrived in Twisted Wonderland?

It contains a bit of angst? Not too much, rather gentle. reader sings to express their feelings.

From the first day you arrived at NRC, you became a source of questions for Riddle. You weren't a troublemaker like Ace or Deuce. You didn't break the rules. But there was something that puzzled him: the way you looked at the world. As if you'd already lost everything.

Riddle noticed it when he accidentally heard you singing. It was one early morning, when he was returning to his dorm after an inspection. He found you sitting in the greenhouse, with an old guitar Cater had gotten for you. He was going to be furious, because he didn't know what you were doing out of your bedroom at that hour, but listened to you a little. The strings creaked a little, but your voice… it hurt. It was low, fragile. Like a silver thread about to snap.

“And if I ever loved, it was among the ruins, where no one listens and the sky falls…”

He froze in the doorway. Those lyrics weren't meant to be heard by just another student. They were pure confession. Riddle didn't know what to say and stepped back quietly. But from then on, he couldn't get you out of his mind.

Over time, he approached you. He asked about your world. About that music you no longer composed.

"Why did you stop composing?" he said to you one day, while you were drinking tea together in Heartslabyul.

"Because no one here wants to hear sad songs. They don't fit with the tea, the rules, or the cardboard smiles."

Riddle clutched his cup. He'd never cared about music, but with you, it was different.

"Maybe… you should break a rule," he murmured without looking at you.

It was the first time Riddle invited you to do something outside of protocol. Not because he wanted to break the rules, but because he couldn't stand seeing you suppress the only part of you that spoke without fear.

From then on, he let you use the greenhouse at night. And sometimes, just sometimes, he sat beside you and listened in silence.

Azul had always been a man of contracts and cold logic. But you�� you caused him an inexplicable terror.

Not because you were dangerous. On the contrary. Because you were too honest.

In the lounge of the Mostro Lounge, you found an old dusty piano. You offered to play one quiet night, without customers. Azul accepted, thinking it would serve as a distraction for him.

He hadn't expected your songs to unearth emotions he'd sealed in the deepest corners of the ocean.

Your voice was like the sea currents that drag sunken ships.

“Everything you promised washed away with the tide… and yet, I stayed underwater waiting for you.”

Azul gulped after the first song. He didn't say anything. He just cleaned his glasses and returned to the lounge. But he started calling you more often, asking you to “practice” after closing time. He paid you with free drinks, even though you knew it wasn't for business.

It was because he wanted to hear you.

One day, while you were composing in a notebook by the aquarium, Azul approached and spoke to you, almost breathless:

"I don't understand how you can be so vulnerable without fearing being destroyed."

"Because I've been broken before. Singing is the only way I have to rebuild myself."

Azul looked at you as if you were an impossible-to-categorize creature. He wanted to understand you, he wanted to protect you…

And at the same time, he was afraid that your songs would start talking about him.

Because if you ever dared to write about Azul Ashengrotto… he knew he wouldn't be able to hide.

Leona had no patience for sentimentality. Or so he said.

When he met you, you were “that strange person who doesn't talk much and spends her time in the gardens singing depressing things.”

But over time, your melodies began to follow him, even during his naps.

Your voice drifted through the sands, like a memory he didn't want to recall.

“If the sun never rises again, promise me you'll sleep with me, among the rubble of what we once were…”

He didn't say it, but he listened. Always. And one day, after a grueling workout, he sat next to you under a tree. He didn't say anything at first. He just closed his eyes and let you sing.

“Why do you sing those things?” he asked you later, without opening his eyes.

“You seem to be carrying the weight of the world on you.”

“Because it's the only thing I have left of home. My songs were my refuge. Here… I feel like they no longer have any meaning.”

Leona looked at you then, without mockery, without annoyance. For the first time, seriously.

"You don't need a reason to keep doing what you love. The world is shitty enough without taking that away from us too."

And in that instant, without warning, he leaned against your shoulder.

As if he, too, needed a refuge.

From then on, Leona never asked you to stop singing. On the contrary, he sought you out when he needed silence. Not from outside, but from within. Because your voice, though sad, calmed him.

And when, finally, you wrote a song about him, he didn't stop you. He just closed his eyes and listened to the end. And when you finished, he murmured:

"Stay. Even if you don't sing anymore… stay."

Vil found you by accident. A recording of yours was playing in the music club. A lost file someone had rescued from an old MP3 player. When your voice resonated through the speakers, everyone fell silent. Even Rook.

“They sold me dreams in perfume bottles… but they smelled of goodbye from the start.”

Vil stood there, motionless. No one knew it was your voice.

No one except him.

He confronted you that same afternoon. Not with anger but with an unusually serious interest.

"Why didn't you tell me you wrote things like that?"

"Because everything here is for show. And my music isn't."

Vil pursed his lips, as if you'd spoken a truth he didn't want to admit. He, who lived among filters and perfection, felt your lyrics cruelly but necessarily strip him bare.

"Your songs don't need any lights. They're authentic. Brutal, even. But why let them die in this world just because they don't fit in?"

Over time, he offered you something he never offered anyone else: emotional honesty. He listened to your lyrics before anyone else, in private. Sometimes he criticized technical details, but never the soul behind them.

And when you wrote a song inspired by his constant struggle to maintain his perfect image, Vil said nothing for a long time. Finally, he murmured:

"That part where you say 'being beautiful hasn't saved me from emptiness'… it hurts. Because it's true."

From then on, he allowed you to sing for him after his private shows. Not for others. For him.

For Idia, sadness has always been a constant, like a wallpaper you don't even notice anymore. That's why, when he happened to hear one of your old recordings—filed nameless in a corner of the computer system—he thought someone else had hacked his soul.

“I'm still here, even if no one looks for me… like a dead star that still shines in the darkness.”

Idia was scared. Literally.

He avoided you for days. Not because he didn't like you. But because your music made him feel exposed. As if you were reading his darkest thoughts without asking permission.

But one day, he left you an anonymous note along with some headphones and a recording of himself.

“I'm not a poet or a singer, but this is what your music made me feel. Sorry if it's garbage.”

It was a distorted, glitchy sound file, full of static… but in the background, there was your voice, mixed with his, singing a phrase of yours:

“If you get lost, I'll wait for you in the void.”

From that moment on, a strange connection was born between you. You never spoke much in person, but he would send you remixes of your own songs, text you comments, and ideas for new lyrics. Sometimes you would share lyrics without a melody, and he would send you back sounds that felt like digital wails.

And although Idia would never admit to crying to one of your songs… he did save one in his “life.exe” folder.

Kalim was the sun. You were the rain. But for some reason, he kept looking for you.

The first time he heard you sing, he was organizing a party in Scarabia. It was all noise, laughter, and colors. Until you sat down at the piano unbidden.

“Happiness slips through my fingers, like sand underwater…”

The party didn't stop, but something changed. Kalim watched you as if he'd just discovered the sky could cry, too.

After that, he searched for you constantly. He asked you about every lyric, every note, every unspoken tear.

"Did you always feel all that? Even when you smile?"

"Smiling doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, Kalim."

He didn't fully understand, but he wanted to. He started reading your notebooks. Learning your silences. Inviting you to play in more intimate moments, away from the hustle and bustle. Even though he was cheerful, Kalim never made fun of your sadness. On the contrary, he embraced you with all the tenderness he possessed.

"Maybe I don't write sad songs," he told you one day.

"But if you need them to breathe, I want to be there to listen to each one."

And secretly, he began to compose little melodies for you. Poorly written. Out of tune. But made from the heart.

Malleus didn't quite understand the music of your world. At first, he thought it was a strange form of spell. How could a melody have so much power… without magic?

The first time he heard you sing was in a secluded corner of Diasomnia, an old tower with some gargoyles, where you went to avoid being disturbed.

“I am the last word in a story no one wanted to finish…”

Malleus said nothing. He just watched you from the shadows, as if you were a ritual he shouldn't interrupt.

Days later, he appeared before you.

"Your music reminds me of the voice of time, human. Sad. Irreversible."

It surprised you that someone like him understood something so human. But he did. Malleus understood loneliness. Isolation. The feeling of being eternal in a world that ends too soon.

"Why don't you sing so much anymore?" he asked you one night in the rain.

"Because I feel like there's no one who truly listens here."

Malleus approached, slowly, taking your hand.

"I listen. And every word of yours stays engraved in me like a spell. Don't deprive me of that magic."

From then on, he invited you to sing under the stars. Just for him. Because in you, Malleus found something that not even power could give him: a truth that wouldn't disguise itself.

A sadness that wouldn't hide.

And when one day you cried between verses, Malleus simply embraced you with his arms. You were not alone anymore.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twisted x reader #twisted wonderland one shot #housewardens x reader #riddle x reader #azul x reader #malleus x reader #idia x reader #kalim x reader #vil x reader #twisted wonderland x yuu #leona x reader #twst x yuu

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twistedpink · 4 months ago

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Whipped!Idia that gives you a spare key, and you use it so much that even the worst of ignyhide shut-ins know your face

Whipped!Idia that adds you on every app he has (no matter how anonymous he’s trying to be) and hooks you up with subtly matching profiles <3

Super whipped!Idia that spends a whole day looking over subreddits and couply arts and crafts tutorials for your birthday (you’re worth the cringe :/ )

Whipped!Idia that gets you added to Ortho’s interface right away, and he gives you so much leeway that you’d probably get away with murder even if Ortho had the video in 4K

Whipped!Idia that makes you gadgets to improve your quality of life (how’s he supposed to max his approval if the server’s laggy w/ your ancient phone??)

Factually, Idia is so whipped, that even if the cringiest + normiest classmate he has asked what your relationship is, he might respond! (Maybe.)

Whipped!Idia that basically explodes when you touch him.. “HOLYGLAZE i can’t believe I pulled like the meta limited ssr. I’ve gotta clip this.”

Whipped!Idia that probably won’t tell you how he feels, but you’ll know. Whether it’s the homework he does for you, or staring at you through his screen. He’s a little spoiled, sure, but he’ll get what he wants one way or another.

Yuu come home the kids miss you

#twst yuu #twst x reader #yuu twisted wonderland #disney twst #obsessive love #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst idia #idia shroud #twisted wonderland idia #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #idia shroud x yuu

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mxchibomb · 13 hours ago

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content. mdni 18+

gamer head ! idia shroud

video game lover !! we should 👾👾💎 with each other !!

the room was dark. the only things that were providing any light would be his trinkets and his large pc screen. his thumbs loudly jammed down aggressively on his custom controller, his back hunched in his chair. you came to visit him but clearly he had been.. busy. you've been sat on his bed for the last hour, waiting for the game to end but he passed level by level by level and it didn't look like he was planning to stop. standing up to walk behind his chair, you wrapped your hands around the back of it to play with idia's sweatshirt zipper. his cold skin turned hot as you slowly slid your hands underneath the fabric, zipping the material down just enough for you hands to make it to the naked chest he had underneath.

"h-hey! go fool around somewhere else! i gotta finish this!" he grumbled, face turning a soft pink as he tried to wiggle out of your hold, eyes never tearing away from the screen. you frowned and took your hands off of him, crossing them over your chest in slight annoyance. eventually a light bulb sparked above your head. why wait when you could take matters into your own hands?

underneath the large desk, there was just enough space for someone to fit through it. you crawled, knees sliding against the short carpet floor as you wiggled into the spot where his knees met your chest. with a playful waggle of your fingers on his knees, he shrieked loudly as you tore open his legs enough for you to fit in between them.

"w-what are you doing?! you're gonna mess me up!" his eyes were wide and his eyebrows were raised, surprise evident on his usually tired face. with a mischievous smile, you didn't explain yourself. instead you nuzzled your face in between his thighs to press feather light kisses against the bulge in his thin, skull printed pajama pants. he wasn't wearing underwear, he usually didn't in the comfort of his own home. they were restricting, in his opinion. you could see him shiver in his chair, watching as it hit every nerve of his spine on the way up. his throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously, spewing noisy complaints down at you. but your ears clogged at the enjoyment of his tempting already semi hard cock in front of your face. your tongue dipped out of your mouth, running along the side of his clothed cock until you met the tip.

he figured he'd just ignore you, you weren't listening anyways but one of his thighs began to bounce up and down nervously and a series of pants left his mouth. wet spots began forming on the front of his pants as your tongue coaxed his cock to reveal its fully hardened form. it stood at attention, once cozy in his pajama pants and now poking upwards in an impressive curve. and he was *big*. long. the thought of it in your mouth alone made you salivate. jt made your panties begin to stick to your now soaking cunt, your slick dripping out of your hole and into the cotton. with eager hands, you began tugging at the waistband of his pajama pants.

"wait! don't-" his ears burned hot red and he could barely focus, anxiety sitting in the pit of his stomach. but he wasn't even sure if it was because of the possibility of slipping up and ruining the level or the pretty girl between his legs.. or both. he felt like he couldn't breath, eyes squeezing shut momentarily. he whimpered quietly when cold air hit his midsection and his cock flung back against his stomach. he took a misstep in his game, almost dropping his controller.

with a hum, your hands took his hard cock into your hands, your warm fingers wrapping around the base and squeezing gently. his hips bucked and one side of his controller slipped out of his hand as he placed it palm down onto the desk. with a giggle, you propelled forwards to drag the tip of your tongue around his bulbous, pale pink tip. slowly teasing him, you drew gentle circles around the head a couple times before taking it into your mouth. a moan vibrated against his skin as a singular drop of precum blessed your tastebuds. his face blew up red and he groaned, finally failing to focus and putting his controller down to place a hand on the top of your head. rolling your tongue around the head of his cock, you flicked at the slit as his thighs began to shake.

"ahh!" he squeaked out embarrassingly, his cock twitching in your hold. staring up at his scrunched up, crimson face made your cunt leak and you whimpered against him as you slowly inched his dick between your lips. your tongue curled flat against his shaft, moving your head side to side to better slide his fat cock down your throat and gagging as his slobbering tip finally pushed against your uvula. with an accidental buck of his hips, he pushed further into your throat. with a loud gag, tears pooled in the corner of your eyes and you quickly stabilized yourself with a hand on his knee. you heard a minor apology, but it passed through your ears as a muffled whisper as you lifted off his cock to slam him back down your throat. spit slowly began to dribble to the base of his cock, seeping into the bright blue of his pubes as loud slurping noises mixed with your gags and his loud moans.

his fingers dug into your hair, unconsciously tugging at it as you swallowed his cock. his chest heaved as he finally glanced down at you for the first time since you've been in his room only to find you already looking at him through wettened lashes. he gulped aggressively and his hair flickered between red and blue as it flared wildly at the sight. his balls squeezed as tears streamed down your face and you blinked prettily. he leaned his head back quickly and lifted an arm up to bite into his sweatshirt sleeve, fearing that if he looked at you at any longer he'd cum within seconds.

"mmm..!! mhhff!" he whined into his arm as his hips bucked softly each time your tongue brushed against the sensitivity of a tender spot settling on the mid section of his cock. you could feel his cock shift in as his veins pulsed in pleasure and he twitched up against the roof of your mouth. "wait! i'm cumming!" his eyes rolled to the back of his head and his thighs flexed, his gut tightly wound and he gently tried pushing your head off before he burst. but you only smacked his hand off, interlocking your fingers before shoving him as far as he could go. with a groan that echoed in his room, his head leaned back against the back of his gaming chair and white shot out to paint your throat. your eyes, too, rolled back as you moaned in response along with him as his tangy cum overflowed your mouth to warm up your esophagus, greedily swallowing him in. his foot kicked and he attempted to scoot back as your throat closed around him tightly as you swallowed, whimpering in overstimulation.

pulling away, spit and cum flowed down your chin. simply wiping it away with your sleeve, you slipped through the tiny opening between idia and his desk to happily hop into his lap where your slick drowned panties pressed up against his still sensitive cock. short skirt hiking up your thighs, you slid your panties to the side as you lined his cock up against your needy, weeping hole as fear flashed through his face, unprepared for what's to come.

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland smut #twst smut #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst idia #idia shroud #twst idia shroud #twst idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #twisted wonderland idia #18+ mdni

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22ayla21 · 4 days ago

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Hello, I noticed you haven't done Idia yet for family fics or headcanons, so could I request Idia shroud x reader family fics or headcanons? I just love him so much!!!! Plus, I imagine Ortho being the best uncle to the kid or kids....

Shadows of S.T.Y.X with a Small Ray of Light

In the secret organization for the study of Overblot, Idia and his wife grapple with the danger hidden within their work, striving to protect their son from the curse of their family's fate.

Working at S.T.Y.X had always been something truly special for Idia and his wife. It wasn't just a job—it was their calling. The clandestine organization dedicated to researching the Overblot phenomenon, and their mission to ensure the safe use of these dangerous energies, seemed to permeate every moment of their lives. But even in such a demanding rhythm, they found islands of joy—for example, in their son, who, like all children, loved to hover nearby and pry into the secrets of their mysterious laboratories.

Idia always tried to explain the most complex scientific concepts to his son in simple terms, although at times his metaphors might seem somewhat convoluted to an outside observer. But for his son, his explanations sounded like a fascinating combination of a physics lesson and a cool gamer's guide.

"Listen, buddy," Idia would say, gesturing enthusiastically, "imagine that Overblot is like a gamer who levels up their skills to the limit. But the cooler they become, the harder it is for them to control their power. So, this magic needs to be constantly 'leveled down' so it doesn't get out of control, like if you were playing a terribly buggy game..."

His son listened attentively, but a slight bewilderment still lingered on his face. And that's when Mom always came to the rescue. Her explanations were much clearer and simpler, yet no less captivating.

"You know, sweetie," she would say gently, sitting down beside him, "it's like if you found a magical toy. If you play with it carefully, it will give you a lot of fun. But if you don't look after it, it might break or even hurt you. So, your dad and I are trying to figure out how to make sure this toy never breaks and is always safe."

The child nodded, but the intricate scientific complexities of his parents' work still eluded his understanding. He curiously examined their laboratory instruments, strange shimmering devices, but the questions in his head remained numerous.

Sometimes, work demanded complete dedication from the parents, and then, so that their son wouldn't feel lonely, Uncle Ortho—Idia's younger brother—would come to the rescue. He was a true master of entertainment and easily distracted his nephew from sad thoughts. Ortho never excelled in deep knowledge of S.T.Y.X's affairs, but his love for his nephew was truly boundless.

"Hey, young scientist, how about we start a cool joint project? Like real researchers!" Ortho would cheerfully suggest, taking out construction set pieces and showing his nephew how to connect them into an intricate model. And then, with a radiant smile, he would organize fun competitions to build the fastest and sturdiest toy. For his nephew, these were real holidays.

But there were also times when the parents went on very important and long business trips. Then, Idia's parents—their closest and most loving relatives—would come to the rescue. They doted on their grandson and always tried to please him with something special.

"Well, my dear, are you ready for a new batch of hilarious stories about how your dad used to mix up secret codes in the main S.T.Y.X computer when he was young?" Grandpa would wink, already anticipating his grandson's laughter, and begin to recount funny incidents from Idia's youth. Grandma, tireless and full of energy, would shower her grandson with hugs, tickles, and organize noisy games of tag, trying to ignore the nagging pain in her joints—after all, her grandson's joy was much stronger than any discomfort.

And yet, despite the warmth and care of the whole family, Idia and his wife were haunted by one burdensome feeling—the fear that one day their son might be forced to continue their dangerous work at S.T.Y.X. This thought hung over them like an ominous shadow, like a curse they in no way wanted to burden their child with. They knew all too well how dangerous, full of secrets and betrayals, their work could be. They did not wish such a fate for their son. It was something they would never want to pass down.

"He shouldn't be a part of this world," Idia often said to his wife, and deep anxiety sounded in his voice.

And they both silently agreed that their son would be free in his choice, no matter what happened. S.T.Y.X was their life, their burden, and they could not allow it to become their child's life. But deep in their hearts, a timid hope still flickered that perhaps he would find his own, happy path.

#twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst idia #idia shroud #idia x reader

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ducksido · 17 hours ago

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Haii! Im here to bother u again😝😝😝😝😝 okay imagine this, Idia🤤 with a gothic reader who hates the outside world as much as Idia does, so they also attend school as a magical crow (Brian for once working🤭), okay basically it’s just a regular day, reader’s crow is listening to the alchemy lesson when the one day Idia pops up in class, someone in the class makes a potion explode and now Idia ´s a cat (uno reverse) so Idia runs to reader and reader in all their gothic calm amazing glory takes care of kitty Idia yayayayayayayayayyayayayayayayayayayyayayayayayyyayayayayaayyayayayayayayayayayayayayaayayayayayyaayayayyayay

The alchemy room buzzes with cauldrons boiling and students pretending to care. Perched high on a wooden beam, your glossy black feathers shimmer in the low candlelight. As a magical crow, you blend in with the shadows, watching the chaos below with passive disinterest. Grim often mutters about being replaced as NRC’s main animal companion—but he couldn’t match your gothic elegance if he tried.

You hated the outside world. Too loud, too bright, too peppy. So this crow form was your perfect out—quiet, hidden, detached from the expectations of socializing, and conveniently skipping the need for group projects. Professor Crewel let it slide, mostly because you always aced the theory work and also possibly because you once stared him down in your human form for too long without blinking.

But today was... different.

The door creaked open. Heads turned. You cocked your feathery head, mildly intrigued.

Idia Shroud had entered the classroom.

In the flesh.

Not via tablet. Not via hologram. Physically there.

He was hunched over, hoodie up, practically blending into the shadows like you usually did. Your feathers ruffled slightly. What was he doing here? Did he lose a bet?

But the answer would come sooner than expected.

Some half-witted alchemy student added powdered phoenix feather instead of fire salamander scale. There was a flash, a BANG, and then—

“MEOW??!”

The smoke cleared. The class gasped.

On the floor, where Idia had once stood, was now a fluffball of cursed adorableness.

A Selkirk Rex cat with messy, curly fur like a ball of smoke—tinted an ethereal indigo-blue and licked with ghostly flame along the tufts. His wide yellow eyes flicked around in horror, and his little kitty mouth opened to yowl—

But then he bolted.

Straight up the walls. Straight across beams.

Straight into you.

He barreled into your crow form like a flame-furred comet, and you flapped slightly in surprise before steadying. Idia—now a magical blue flame cat—clung to your side like his life depended on it.

A pause.

He blinked up at you with wide, panicked eyes.

You blinked back, slow and calm.

Then, still in your crow form, you gave a low, throaty caw of “sigh.” The universal goth noise of “I guess I’m handling this now.”

With eerie grace, you fluttered down to the floor and shifted back into your human form. The class gasped again, but you ignored them. All eyes were on you now—gothic robes trailing, heavy boots thudding, eyes lined with smudged black makeup, and an aura that screamed “don’t speak to me if you value your life.”

Cradling the trembling blue fire-fuzzball in your arms, you turned to Crewel.

“I’ll take responsibility for this one,” you intoned flatly.

Crewel blinked. Then sighed. “Very well. Just don’t let him set anything on fire.”

Back in your room...

The dorm was dark, curtains drawn, lit only by the soft hum of black flame candles and the flicker of your favorite haunted lamp. Gothic posters lined the walls. A bone-shaped incense holder smoldered faintly. It was quiet. Peaceful. Home.

On your lap, Idia curled into a ball of blue curls and gentle fire. He twitched his little whiskers as you brushed through his fur with a comb you conjured just for him. He hissed once—reflex—but then let out a begrudging purr.

“You make a surprisingly cute cat,” you said, voice dry, a rare smirk tugging at your lips.

He let out an offended meep and rolled onto his back, staring up at you with mortified golden eyes.

You raised an eyebrow. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me. I wouldn’t dare tell Ortho you made biscuits on my cloak earlier.”

The loudest cat groan echoed through the room.

Still, he stayed there. On your lap. Safe. Warm. Surrounded by darkness and someone who understood him—someone who hated the sun, crowds, and mornings just as much as he did.

For once in his life, Idia Shroud didn’t mind being around someone else.

Even if he was a cat for the time being.

You scratched under his flaming chin. He purred like a broken video game console.

The dorm room was still as shadowed and cozy as ever, lit only by dim lanterns and a flickering TV playing some obscure JRPG’s cutscene on mute. Incense swirled lazily in the air, curling around the edges of a spell circle chalked into the floor—half-finished, abandoned in favor of more important matters.

Like the sentient blue puffball curled in your lap.

You lounged lazily on your bed, black silk robe draped over your shoulders, heavy boots kicked off to the side. Idia—still a blue-flame Selkirk Rex—was stretched across your thighs like a spoiled little prince of darkness, his fiery fur faintly glowing against your monochrome aesthetic.

He’d been surprisingly docile, purring so hard at one point that your entire lap vibrated.

Of course, you had to take advantage of the moment.

Your black lipstick glinted faintly as you leaned down and kissed the top of his little flamey head.

“Smooch.”

He blinked. Then let out a soft, confused mrowl.

You kissed him again. Once between the ears. Once on his chubby cheek. Once near his twitchy little nose.

“Smooch. Smooch. Smooooch~”

Each kiss left a black lip-print on his blue-tinged fur. Like gothic seals of affection. Marks of adoration.

His tail started twitching wildly, like a meter slowly maxing out his embarrassment stat.

You tilted your head. “Aww. You’re all covered in love now, poor thing.”

Idia let out a muffled mrphhh, half-limp in your arms, half-melting from the attention and affection.

And then—

FWOOOSH!

A bright blue light engulfed him. Your arms instinctively tightened to hold him in place.

And when the light faded...

He was no longer a cat.

Idia Shroud—gangly limbs, hoodie, and all—was now awkwardly sprawled in your lap, blinking rapidly, entire body frozen in a crash-reboot of social anxiety.

...Covered in black lipstick marks.

One on his forehead. One just above his jawline. One on his neck. Several on his cheek. You counted seven in total from your perch beneath him.

And his hair—

It was pink. Flaming hot pink. A blushing bonfire, complete with flickering sparks of mortification.

“A-A-AH?! W-WHY—WHO—ME???”

His voice cracked hard enough to shatter your lamp. He scrambled but failed to escape, since your arms were still loosely wrapped around him.

You blinked up at him, calm as ever.

“You turned human again. While in my lap. After I covered you in kisses.” You dragged a finger up his cheek, smearing one of the lipstick prints like you were signing your name.

“That’s on you, babe.”

“B-BABE???!?!” he squeaked, voice hitting a pitch only dogs could hear. He clutched his hoodie drawstrings like they were a lifeline.

“Your fur was soft. You were cute. I was emotionally vulnerable,” you said deadpan. “So obviously I had to smother you in affection. That’s just what one does with magically cursed cats who panic and hide in their goth crush’s lap.”

“G-GOTH CRUSH—????! ERROR—!! STOP—!! BLUE SCREEN—!!”

He turned an even deeper shade of pink as you reached up and plucked another lipstick mark off his nose with your thumb.

“You’ll survive.” You smirked. “Unless you burst into flames. Which, judging by your hair, might actually happen.”

He buried his face in your shoulder with a pained wheeze. “I’m never showing my face in public again…”

You patted his back comfortingly. “Good. Neither do I.”

#twst #twst x reader #twst wonderland #twst yuu #twst headcanons #idia shroud #idia twisted wonderland #twst idia #twisted wonderland idia #idia x reader #idia x you #idia x yuu

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random-twst-things · 6 months ago

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*Mc/Y/N/Yuu having enough with the Overblots, and especially the most dangerous of them*

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: You have 13 seconds before this island fucking explodes

Mc/Y/N/Yuu, pointing at Malleus: You Hot topic Wannabe

Mc/Y/N/Yuu, pointing at Idia: And you Blue Gumball son of a bitch

Malleus, idia: ....

Mc/Y/N/Yuu: You have done nothing but destroy my life-

Mc/Y/N/Yuu, failing arms around: I hope you both die!

Idia: That's a bit overkill ngl

Mc/Y/M/Yuu: And almost killing everyone by opening the literal underworld because you couldn't control yourself from the blot wasn't?

Idia: ...Touché

Dividers by/from @/cafekitsune

(It's been a while 🧍🏽‍♀️)

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solxamber · 3 months ago

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You Try to Sleep on the Couch after an Argument with: Housewardens

Other Parts: Vice-Housewardens; First Years ; Cater, Floyd, Silver, Rollo

Riddle Rosehearts

The house was quiet, save for the occasional creak of wood and the rustle of fabric as you flopped onto the couch with all the grace of a cat forcibly denied its favorite sunny spot.

The argument still hung in the air, an unspoken tension that neither you nor Riddle were willing to breach—at least not yet. He wasn’t wrong, not entirely, but he wasn’t right either. The impasse was as thick as the silence between you.

Determined to make a statement, you yanked the blanket off the couch arm and cocooned yourself in it, defiantly turning your back to the door. No way were you crawling back to bed tonight. Your pride wouldn’t let you. Let him stew in his perfectly fluffed, oversized bed.

Meanwhile, in his room, Riddle’s impeccable composure was fraying at the edges. He lay stiff as a board under his duvet, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers to all his mistakes. His pillows seemed unusually hard, the blankets too suffocating, and no matter how he adjusted, something felt... wrong.

It didn’t take him long to figure out the culprit: you weren’t there.

He groaned softly into the darkness. Guilt clawed at his insides, sharp and relentless, each tick of the clock making it harder to bear. He’d handled things poorly—he could admit that, now that the heat of the argument had ebbed. And worse, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being upset, out there on the couch, all because of his stubbornness.

With a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart, he threw off his blanket and shuffled into the living room. His breath caught when he saw you.

There you were, fast asleep, your cheek smushed against the arm of the couch, one arm dangling off the side. The sight was far too adorable for the emotional train wreck he’d become. His guilt doubled.

Riddle knelt by the couch quietly, determined not to wake you. But as he crouched there, the exhaustion hit him—of the argument, the guilt, the restless tossing and turning. Maybe just sitting here would suffice. He wouldn’t disturb you.

A few minutes turned into an hour. Before he knew it, he’d slumped sideways against the couch, head lolling onto his arms, fast asleep in what had to be the most uncomfortable position imaginable.

When you stirred awake, the morning light was peeking through the curtains. Groggily, you rubbed your eyes, the previous night’s anger feeling like a distant shadow. That was when you noticed him—his normally pristine figure curled up on the floor, head resting uncomfortably close to your dangling hand.

Your chest ached at the sight. The idiot. The sweet, guilty idiot.

You reached out, brushing your fingers lightly against his hair. “Riddle,” you whispered. “Hey… wake up.”

He stirred, blinking up at you with sleep-clouded eyes, disoriented but instantly softening when he saw your face. Without a word, he shifted closer, arms wrapping around your middle as he buried his face against your stomach.

“Don’t go,” he mumbles, voice thick and quiet.

You freeze but quickly recover, leaning into his embrace. “I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, voice muffled by your blanket. “I didn’t mean for it to get so out of hand.”

Your throat tightened, and you found yourself carding your fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry too,” you whispered. “Let’s not fight like that again.”

For a moment, the two of you just stayed like that, wrapped up in quiet forgiveness. When he finally looked up at you, there was a hesitant, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Will you come back to bed now?” he asked softly.

“Only if you promise to use it too. No more couch-floor accommodations,” you teased, pinching his cheek lightly.

“Deal,” he murmured, and together, you made your way back—closer than before, warmth filling the space where anger once was.

Leona Kingscholar

The argument had been sharp, biting, and the kind of fight where you both refused to back down. Storming out of the bedroom felt dramatic enough to match the vibe, so you grabbed a blanket, stomped to the living room, and threw yourself onto the couch with the weight of your indignation. “Fine,” you muttered into the cushions. “Let him have the stupid bed. I don’t care.”

And at the time, you didn't. You were replaying his snarky remarks and cursing his stubborn attitude. But the couch was lumpy, the blanket too short, and sleep came grudgingly after what felt like hours of stewing.

When you finally woke, disoriented and achy, something felt...off. For starters, you weren’t on the couch anymore. You were in the bed, wrapped snugly in the comforter that still carried Leona’s scent.

Blinking against the sunlight, you sat up, confusion clouding your thoughts. At the foot of the bed was the blanket you’d dragged out last night, now neatly folded like some taunting symbol of Leona’s existence.

And Leona himself? Missing.

You slid out of bed and wandered to the living room, where the answer to your mystery lay sprawled across the couch. The sight of him, however, made your irritation waver.

Leona was far too large for the couch. His long legs hung over the edge at weird angles, and one arm was slung over his face to block the light filtering through the curtains. He looked wildly uncomfortable, but his usual arrogance softened in sleep, his face peaceful and unguarded.

It didn’t take a genius to piece it together. He must have carried you to bed sometime in the night, only to exile himself to the lumpy couch. The guy could be maddeningly stubborn, but this... this unexpected gesture had you torn between wanting to yell at him or simply kissing him awake.

Ultimately, you decided to settle for the middle ground.

Crouching next to the couch, you reached out and brushed the stray strands of hair from his face. Before you could withdraw, one eye cracked open, and a lazy grin spread across his lips.

“Caught ya,” he drawled, voice rough from sleep.

You raised an eyebrow. “You moved me to the bed, didn’t you?”

He huffed, clearly uninterested in owning up to the sentimentality of it. “Couldn’t leave you out there whining in your sleep.”

“I wasn’t whining!” you protested, even though your cheeks were burning.

“Sure you weren’t,” he replied smoothly, grabbing your wrist before you could retreat. With a sharp tug, he pulled you down, practically pinning you against him. “Don’t see the big deal. You’re mine, aren’t ya? ‘Course I’m gonna take care of you.”

The casual way he said it didn’t make it any less sincere.

You sighed, melting into his warmth despite yourself. “I hate how sweet you can be when I’m trying to stay mad at you.”

His smirk widened, and he tucked you closer, burying his face in your hair. “Didn’t mean to piss you off,” he murmured against your temple. “But you’re not leaving this couch till we make up. Deal?”

You rolled your eyes, but your voice softened. “Deal.”

As the tension melted away and his arms tightened around you, the couch didn’t seem quite so lumpy anymore. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad place to be.

Azul Ashengrotto

The argument had been tense, the kind where you both said things you probably shouldn’t have. Frustrated and too stubborn to stay in the same space as Azul, you grabbed a pillow and marched out to the couch. He’d barely tried to stop you, his pride seemingly keeping him rooted in the bedroom.

But pride was a fickle thing, and now you were left trying to fall asleep on the stiff cushions. Every creak of the floorboards made you feel a little guilty, knowing exactly who it was.

You didn’t even need to look; you could feel Azul’s presence lingering in the doorway, his usual composure clearly absent. The sound of shuffling footsteps returned to the bedroom, and you thought maybe he’d finally leave you alone—only to hear those same footsteps inch closer again a minute later.

"Azul, I know you're there," you muttered, cracking an eye open and turning toward the doorway. Sure enough, there he was, peeking out. His glasses caught the faint glow of the hallway light, and he immediately froze like he’d been caught stealing treasure.

“I-I wasn’t...” he started, before trailing off, clearly scrambling for an excuse.

You sighed and sat up, your frustration ebbing in the face of how uncharacteristically sheepish he looked. This was Azul Ashengrotto, the calculating businessman who could sell ice to Yetis—and yet he couldn’t even apologize without peering at you like a child who’d been scolded.

“If you’re just going to lurk there all night, we’re both going to lose sleep,” you said, finally beckoning him over with a wave.

Azul hesitated for a fraction of a second before his composure cracked, and he shuffled toward the couch. “I didn’t mean for things to escalate...” he started, sitting next to you, his head ducked low, voice soft.

You smirked despite yourself. “You’re cute when you’re embarrassed, you know that?”

He bristled, his dignity rallying as he cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “I am not—”

“You’re very cute,” you interrupted, and the smallest flicker of a pout crossed his lips.

Azul looked away, a hint of color dusting his pale cheeks. “You’re the worst.”

“And you still love me,” you countered, pulling him down beside you. “Truce?”

He glanced at you, the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips. “Truce.”

Apologies came in murmured exchanges after that, both of you acknowledging where you’d gone wrong. You knew you’d both let pride get in the way—typical for two people as headstrong as yourselves.

Eventually, Azul’s head rested on your shoulder, his warm weight grounding you. You leaned back against the couch, and despite its discomfort, it felt perfect with him there.

“You know,” you whispered, running a hand gently through his hair, “for a guy who’s made half of Twisted Wonderland sign contracts, you really can’t stand your ground for the life of you.”

Azul huffed, turning his face into your shoulder to hide. “Do you want me to apologize again?”

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Nope. I think I’ll just enjoy this.”

And with that, the two of you finally let the tension of the argument melt away, falling asleep together on the couch in an imperfect, perfectly “you and Azul” sort of peace.

Kalim Al-Asim

The argument had been uncharacteristically heated—rare for someone as sunny and easygoing as Kalim—but even he had limits, and so did you. When your stubborn streak flared, it ended with you grabbing a blanket and storming off to the couch.

“No, Kalim, I’m fine. You sleep in the bed, I’ll sleep here,” you snapped, cutting off his attempts to follow you. His face fell, but for once, he didn’t argue, retreating to the bedroom with a defeated slump of his shoulders.

You burrowed into the couch cushions, determined to stay mad, but as sleep started to claim you, the anger dulled into annoyance. It didn’t matter. He started it, you thought stubbornly, clutching the blanket tighter.

A soft rustle of fabric woke you, tugging you from the edges of sleep. Blinking groggily, you turned your head to see Kalim crouched beside the couch, carefully tucking another blanket over you. He had his tongue poking out slightly in concentration, his touch so gentle that it was clear he didn’t want to wake you.

“What are you doing?” you mumbled, voice hoarse with sleep.

Kalim flinched, looking at you like a startled puppy caught raiding the kitchen. “Oh, I—uh—I just thought you might be cold, so I…”

He trailed off, clearly expecting you to brush him off again. Instead, you sighed, your irritation melting as you realized just how ridiculous he looked, trying to coddle you even while you were angry at him.

“Come here,” you said, sitting up and pulling the blanket back a bit.

“What? No, I don’t want to—”

“Kalim.”

His protest crumbled immediately, and he slid onto the couch beside you, tucking his legs up awkwardly. You wrapped the blanket over both of you, and after a moment of stunned hesitation, Kalim relaxed into the embrace, resting his head against your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice small and earnest. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You sighed, tilting your head to rest on his. “I’m sorry too. I overreacted.”

He perked up slightly at that, his usual cheer trying to peek through. “So… does this mean you won’t sleep out here alone again?”

“You’re lucky I’m even letting you under this blanket, Asim,” you teased, though your smile softened the words.

Kalim beamed, his arms wrapping snugly around your middle. “I knew you couldn’t stay mad at me forever!”

You rolled your eyes fondly, leaning back into the cushions. The couch wasn’t exactly built for two people, but the warmth of his presence made it easy to ignore. Slowly, you both drifted to sleep, Kalim murmuring sweet nothings even as his breaths evened out.

Maybe next time, you thought sleepily, you’d just let him win.

“You can have your perfectly fluffed pillows and skincare routine in peace,” you muttered, tucking yourself in with a spiteful sense of triumph.

Vil Schoenheit

The argument left both of you simmering in silence, which for Vil was a rarity. Instead of his usual icy composure, he seemed genuinely rattled. You, however, weren’t in the mood to care. Grabbing a blanket with theatrical flair, you stomped to the couch.

Once comfortably cocooned, you scrolled on your phone, trying to drown out the lingering annoyance. That’s when you heard it—sharp, purposeful footsteps marching toward you.

Before you could react, Vil appeared like a vengeful storm god, looking every bit as flawless as a deity would while furious. With a huff that could make kingdoms tremble, he reached for your arm and began dragging you back to the bedroom.

“Vil, what are you—let me go! I’m fine out here!” you protested, but his grip was firm, his annoyance palpable.

Once you were unceremoniously deposited by the bed, he turned to you, pointing at your neatly made side. “You are sleeping there,” he declared.

You folded your arms. “I’m sleeping on the couch. Deal with it.”

He tilted his head, his expression a dangerous blend of frustration and disbelief. “Absolutely not. You’ve ruined my entire evening, and now you expect me to suffer further by sleeping alone?”

“Ruined? Seriously?” you shot back.

“Yes! I require my beauty sleep, and I can’t possibly get it knowing you’re out there, sulking on a couch. It’s impossible to relax without you next to me—so you, are going to have to take responsibility!”

The sheer audacity of his statement left you blinking. It was so dramatic and entirely Vil that you couldn’t help it—you laughed. Not a little chuckle, but a full-bodied, slightly wheezing laugh that made you clutch your sides.

Vil crossed his arms, arching an offended brow. “I fail to see what’s funny.”

“You,” you said between giggles. “This whole ‘it’s your fault I can’t sleep because I love you’ nonsense. You’re ridiculous.”

He didn’t deny it. Instead, he sighed, and once your laughter subsided, he gestured to the bed again, this time more softly. “Please. Don’t make me sleep without you.”

You relented, sliding under the blankets. As you settled in, Vil switched off the lights, the room going still.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly after a moment. His tone was sincere, lacking the sharp edges from earlier.

You shifted closer to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and pulling him gently against you. “I’m sorry too.”

Vil let out a contented hum, nestling into your hold. With your body heat mingling and the earlier tension dissipating, it didn’t take long for both of you to fall asleep—together, as it should be.

Sleep came in patches, your mind replaying the fight in a loop. At some point, the dull ache in your bladder forced you to stumble toward the bathroom. On your way back, you froze, hearing quiet, panicked murmurs drifting from Idia’s room.

Idia Shroud

The argument had been rough—sharp words, bitter edges, the kind of fight that left your chest heavy. It didn’t matter how much Idia stammered his way through an apology or tried to explain his side; you weren’t ready to hear it yet. So, in an act of frustrated finality, you grabbed a blanket and retreated to the couch, refusing to spare him another glance.

“Ortho, what do I do? I think I really messed up this time,” his voice wavered, thick with worry. “They probably hate me now. Like, actual hate—no respawn, no restart. I mean, who else would put up with me? I’ve completely blown it.”

You sighed, anger ebbing as guilt trickled in. You hadn’t meant to push him that far, and his usual self-deprecating spiral sounded more frayed than usual.

Pushing the door open, you caught the tail end of Ortho’s voice. “Big Brother, you should—oh!” His robotic eyes darted to you, scanning the scene. A moment later, he gave a tiny thumbs-up and practically zoomed out of the room, leaving you and Idia alone.

Idia froze when he noticed you. His shoulders hunched as if he could shrink his already wiry frame. “I-I didn’t mean for you to hear that. Sorry for being pathetic. Again.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you stepped forward and opened your arms. “Come here, you dramatic dork.”

His eyes widened, hesitation etched into every inch of his posture. When you didn’t move or drop your arms, he finally shuffled over, nervously slipping into your embrace. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him securely, and his entire body seemed to deflate as tension drained out of him.

“I thought you weren’t coming back,” he admitted, voice muffled against your shoulder.

You huffed softly, rubbing his back. “Idia, I wasn’t leaving. Just... needed space to cool off. And honestly, hearing you lose your mind over it made it hard to stay mad.”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool,” he mumbled, the words tumbling in an embarrassed rush. “Um, does this mean...?”

“It means I still love you,” you interrupted gently.

His grip on you tightened for a moment before he pulled back, pink dusting his cheeks and his hair glowing pink at the ends. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice so soft you almost missed it.

“I’m sorry too,” you replied, kissing his cheek and earning a startled squeak.

Together, you made your way back to bed. As you settled under the blankets, his fingers tangled hesitantly with yours. The argument seemed miles away now, replaced by the steady warmth of simply being with him.

“I’ll try to be better,” he murmured into the quiet.

“You’re already enough, Idia,” you replied, squeezing his hand.

And as you drifted off to sleep, you felt his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your knuckles, grounding both of you in the quiet comfort of reconciliation.

Malleus stood frozen for a moment, processing your declaration, and you could feel his pout even with your back turned. "You do not need to sleep on the couch," he finally said.

Malleus Draconia

The argument left both of you tense, and you were too mad to deal with Malleus' brooding silence. Grabbing a blanket, you stormed off toward the couch, refusing to even glance at him. "I'm sleeping on the couch," you announced. "Goodnight."

"I'm not changing my mind," you shot back, tossing the blanket onto the couch for emphasis.

There was a brief, sulking pause. Then, he went quiet—suspiciously quiet. You peeked over your shoulder just in time to catch him crossing his arms with a look of smug triumph spreading across his face.

“Malleus—”

Before you could finish the thought, a flash of green lightning struck the couch, reducing it to a pile of ash with alarming precision. You stood there, jaw dropping as the faint smell of charred upholstery wafted in the air.

"Well," Malleus said, ever so matter-of-factly, "it seems the couch is… out of commission. A most unfortunate turn of events."

You turned to him, dumbfounded. "Did you seriously just smite your own couch?"

He looked at you expectantly, his lips pressed into an overly calm smile. "The bed is still available," he offered, gesturing toward the bedroom as though that solved everything.

Your anger reignited—if that was even possible after witnessing such sheer audacity. Without a word, you dropped your blanket onto the floor, flopping down dramatically as if making it your personal mission to out-stubborn a dragon fae.

He stared at you in bewilderment, clearly expecting a different outcome. For a long moment, he didn’t move, as though trying to process your act of defiance. Then, with an audible sigh, he finally caved.

“Alright,” he said softly, crouching to your level. His eyes held a rare vulnerability. “I… overreacted. I apologize for upsetting you.”

You bit back a smirk, pretending to be unimpressed even as you felt your resolve softening. "I wasn’t thrilled about it, yeah."

Malleus tilted his head, something of a pout returning to his expression. “Will you come back to bed, then? The floor hardly befits someone so precious to me.”

“Only if you promise not to zap anything else," you teased, finally relenting as you reached out to take his offered hand.

He helped you up gently, his grip firm but careful, as though he feared breaking you. “I cannot promise to never act rashly in defense of my love,” he murmured, leading you back to the room.

Settling into the bed together, you couldn’t resist poking at him one last time. “You really destroyed your own couch just to keep me near you, huh? You know they make couple’s therapy for this, right?”

He chuckled softly, pulling you close. “I would smite an entire castle if it meant you stayed by my side.”

“Noted,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t hide the warmth in your chest. As you both drifted off, tangled in the sheets, you couldn’t help but think how absurdly lucky you were to be loved by someone so dramatic—and so utterly devoted.

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riddlesrose · 27 days ago

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the string of fate

w/ riddle, leona, azul, kalim, vil, idia, & malleus in part one: meeting your soulmate.

“i learnt about this in school as a kid, but didn’t know it could… cross dimensions?”

most go their entire lives with little to no hope of finding their cosmically assigned second half, but there's always a chance.

you don’t see your string until you come into physical contact with your soulmate for the first time. a red string will tie itself on your left pinky, unable to ever be removed but it feels as if its never there. the featherlight tickle of the string always reminds you that you've found the one thing a lot of people would lay down their life for.

a.n; 7.6k words total ~ 1.1k each so buckle up for a long post

riddle never really thought much on the idea of a soulmate. his mother taught him that he’d have no need for one, to push the idea out of his head. but it stuck. it stuck to him in the back of his mind, that there was someone out there, and the slim chance he had to meet them kept his hope aflame.

riddle and his crew of cards were some of the first people you actually met in the wonderland. you took him as some sort of rule enforcing, crazy man for the first few days until you realize he really just likes making sure everything stays in order.

headmage crowley had sent you on a few back and forth missions for him recently, which always led you to the same heartslabyul dorm each time, specifically to riddle or trey if the housewarden was busy or unavailable.

you rap your knuckle against the large front door and are instantly greeted by ace, who happens to look like he’s in a major rush. he greets you quickly, then speeds past you like he’s tardy for something. he probably is.

you shrug and let yourself into the dorm building, “hello?” you voice echoes off the walls of the oddly empty halls. you take the chance to look around a little more closely than before, you notice there are signs pointing to many different directions on the same stem, but they all point to places leading to walls or doors. strange.

there are many paintings hung on the tall, red wrapped walls. some are of animals, like flamingos and hedgehogs, others are of people. you notice there are a lot of one plump lady with a small yet tall crown upon her head. must be the queen of hearts.

someone clears his throat behind you. “i see you’ve let yourself in.” you whirl around and are met with riddle’s stern look. not quite disapproving, but you can’t quite place the look he’s attempting to flatten you with.

“well, ace technically let me in?” you gnaw on your bottom lip, realizing how stupid that sounds.

“right. i see you were looking at the pictures on the walls, have any caught your attention?” the housewarden lifts an eyebrow, before scanning the nearby paintings and various pieces of decoration filling the hallway.

you turn to the large portrait of who you assume is the queen of hearts, “yeah, this one.” you take in the details, her mouth is open as if she’s commanding the various card soldiers by her side. you notice they’re all a perfect match to a deck of cards. spade, diamond, heart, and clover soldiers march together in perfect unison at the queen’s orders.

behind her is a large castle surrounded by tall shrubs in varying shapes resembling animals and many red rose bushes. something about this painting feels vaguely familiar.

“ah, yes. that is actually my favourite painting in this hall– the main focus of it is the queen of hearts. she was a strict ruler who ruled over her land. she kept everything in order with her army of card soldiers who followed her loyally. i believe that is because if one of them was out of line, she declared immediate beheading.” riddle looks fondly up at the painting, as if reminiscing over someone lost.

you step closer to the painting, almost close enough you could see the brushstrokes if you squint hard enough. “she kind of… looks like she would fit in here. i think she would like the roses.”

“you’re not wrong.” you glance at riddle, catching the small smile he’s wearing as he stares up at the old painting. riddle wipes the smile away swiftly, turning to you. “so, prefect. if i may be so curious, what brings you here today?”

“right! right, that. headmage crowley said…” you pause, “wait, what did he say.” you mumble, turning away slightly to think. “did he…? yes, he wanted me to relay a message. for… some reason.”

“that message is?”

“‘tell housewarden rosehearts that we are expecting a new delivery of riding gear by next week.’ ” you mock crowley's voice to the best of your abilities, turning back to riddle, then continuing. “there’s horses here?”

“yes, there’s multiple. i’m in the equestrian club with some other students. i could show you some time if you are interested.” riddle’s smooth, almost uninterested voice gets a little softer when he goes on, “i dare say i have a favourite, she’s quite kind.”

you hold out your hand, offering a promising handshake. “it’s a deal, housewarden rosehearts: you show me the horses sometime.”

the redhead cracks a small smile, “please, riddle is fine.” he takes your hand, “sometime it is-”

he stops mid phrase. small red glitters start emitting from your interlaced hands, falling but not quite hitting the floor. they disappear moments after they appear. the twinkling glitters capture the light coming from the nearby window, they shine bright before dying like an oxygenless fire.

riddle’s breath hitches in his throat, frantic eyes meeting your equally blown ones. both of you want to rip your hands away, to go back five minutes ago, but neither moves. the glittering stops moments later. you’re the first to slowly peel your hand from riddle’s, breaking eye contact, you look down to your left hand. there sits a neatly tied bow, perfectly symmetrical, perfectly placed for all to see.

riddle copies you, examining his own left hand. a matching red bow sits tied on his pinky. despite his mind screaming at him to leave, to ignore fate, he decides to test the waters of the universe. he gently grasps your left hand with his right, when you make no move to take back control, he slowly moves your hands together.

a light tickle is felt as the string unwinds and begins reaching towards riddle, more specifically, towards his string, which is also unwinding and reaching for its second half. your heart is hammering against your ribs as you watch fate’s cruel display of affection.

you’re sure riddle can share the sentiment of cruelty. you’ve known riddle for a total of less than a month, and hey, has anyone mentioned that you’re not from this universe? no? maybe they should.

your breath comes out slow and ragged, words fail to form as you attempt to say something, anything, to who was just a friend minutes ago.

“i-i think, i uh, hear grim calling. i need to go.”

“uh, yes, yes. i will… be in touch about the horses. if you’re still interested.” riddle’s voice trails off as his confidence wavers with each word while he watches you leave. you look back over your shoulder to riddle, to your cosmic partner.

riddle has no need for a soulmate, right?

you have no idea what you’re going to do about this.

leona never really put his hopes in a soulmate. he knew after he graduated that he’d go back to the sunset savanna and be the second prince once again. though he often milked the ‘prince’ title, he loathed the idea of falling into line with actual princely duties, like getting married. there was a sliver of hope in leona’s mind that if he ever found his soulmate that there’d be a chance he’d get to have a say in his marriage.

in the end, he’s as hopeful for that outcome as is a sea sponge is to grow legs and walk out of water.

you blink away the drowsiness clouding your mind, professor trein might actually bore you to death if he’s not careful. though it’s only the first weeks of classes, half of his lectures are not sticking in your brain. some would say, in one ear and out the other.

an elbow nudges you from your left side, it’s ace. “do you get any of this?” he whispers.

“you’re asking the wrong person.” you narrow your eyes and blink hard this time.

a moment passes where ace is beyond confused, then he realizes that in fact he is asking the wrong person for help here. he quickly twists in his seat to his opposite neighbour, deuce to ask him the same thing. deuce shakes his head. ace’s shoulders deflate, defeated.

some more time passes before class is over, trein assigns some work, you, ace, and deuce groan in succession but were quickly leveled with a stare from trein. the three of you swiftly made for the exit.

it’s only an hour later that you realize your bag was unzipped and wide open as you were complaining with the heartslabyul freshmen, meaning your history notebook was left somewhere in trein’s classroom. you bashfully rub at your neck while you explain to the duo why you have to suddenly ditch them, reassuring that you’ll be as quick as you can and they don’t need to come with.

grim stares at you before ineffectively dismissing his hench-human with a huff and a flick of his paw. (you were going to go whether grim ‘allowed’ you to or not, you need that book.)

your speed walking caught you some funny looks as you sped past students in the halls, you didn’t want to leave your friends hanging. gods this would be so much easier with magic.

you reach the history classroom and the door is slightly ajar. you assume either the professor was still in there or it was purposefully left open. maybe he realized there was a forgotten notebook and thought you’d come back for it. it does have your name across the top in blue pen.

the door squeals on its hinges as it opens slowly, you cringe at the sudden noise. it goes quiet as the door fully opens. no trein in sight, nor does his desk have an addition of your notebook. okay, maybe it’s still at your seat.

the class is empty, thankfully. you don’t have to awkwardly squeeze through strangers looking for a white notebook. a lot of people have white notebooks, but only you have your name. you reach the desk you sat at today and… no book. oh.

“okay, where is it.” you sigh to no one as you fold your arms across your chest, trying to think of anyone who would steal a freshmen history notebook. while you’re thinking, a yawn catches your attention. wait, what?

“check the floor.” the yawn turns into a phrase, making you jump.

“what the hell?” you look around, whipping your head from the left to the right, but ultimately seeing no one. after a minute of silence, from both you and the gruff voice, you inch your way around the desks, checking the row behind. you practically jump out of your skin when you’re met with leona kingscholar sprawled out across a row of seats.

“that can not be comfortable.” you point out the obvious as the scare wears off.

“it’s not.” leona agrees, “but it was quiet, and empty.” he cracks an eye, leaning his head up slightly to look at you upside down. he kind of looks like he’s scowling but it’s hard to tell.

you take a second, somewhat taken aback at his jab to your presence. “right. well, sorry?”

“apology accepted, now get out lest you disrupt me anymore.” okay, rude. you roll your eyes before taking his previous suggestion. you squat down and check the floor for your book and-

“aha!” the notebook somehow ended up in the row behind you, it must have slipped from your bag and slid backwards. you reach under the seat leona’s got his head on, but the sleeping prince catches your arm before you can grab the book. it stuns you for a moment before you recover, “what’s your deal?” you try and back your arm from his grip but he doesn’t let go.

“you. you’re the deal. you’re yellin’ beside my head.” embarrassment rushes to your face, you did triumphantly shout when you found the missing book, that much is true.

“okay, i’m sorry. now please let me go.” leona releases your arm, opting to run a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes as he sits up.

you scoop the notes off the ground, attempting to get out of leona’s bubble before you make enemies with the wrong person (i.e the second born prince of the sunset savanna). he reaches up and stretches his arms and back from probably the worst sleeping spot on school grounds, but something catches your attention. you suck in a breath, not wanting to make assumptions, and lift your left hand.

there sits a perfectly tied red string, transparent yellow glitters still emanating from thin air. looking back up, leona has a matching patch of disappearing glitters that follow his stretch. scrambling to your feet, you drop the notebook you searched so diligently for and reach for leona’s arm as it falls. he opens his mouth to protest but snaps it shut at the panicked look in your eyes. he falters for a moment, hoping you explain before he asks.

the housewarden glances where you’re focused. a dainty red string is unwrapping itself from your finger and reaching towards… him? not a moment later, you’re walking as fast as your legs will take you without giving out, back to your friends who’ve hopefully not forgotten you were with them. you’ve a lot to think about.

then again, so does leona.

azul always humoured the idea of a soulmate. someone to always put up with him, to be by his side eternally. he’s caught himself once or twice drifting off to the idea of who it is, were they like him in any way? was it someone from the human world, the sea, or was he bound to never find this mysterious individual? azul found himself checking his pinky if he remembered. it was always bare.

until the day it wasn’t.

you absentmindedly kick a pebble into the slightly overgrown grass surrounding main street. large stone statues of the seven tower around the street, each with a plaque engraved with their names. something about them felt oddly comforting, like finding an old childhood toy buried deep in a box, but you couldn’t place why.

suddenly, both your arms are taken by a matching pair of twins. one loops his arm around yours, the other lightly grabs onto your shoulder.

one second you’re shuffling around the statues of the seven, next you’re being dragged around by the freaky leech twin duo. floyd offers no explanation, jade simply says he knows what he’s doing. you’d hope so. you hope he’s got a real good explanation for abducting someone off the main street and hauling them to the mirror room, transporting them to the octavinelle dorm building.

the sea theme catches your eye, the plants sway as if they really are underwater, and the air smells slightly salty. you take in the exterior design, how it all blends together and creates a homey feeling for the students.

you breath in the air once again, “okay, now that we’re here, can either of you tell my why i’ve been kidnapped?”

floyd begins cackling behind his hand, “shrimpy-napped!” air passes from your nose, ready to get annoyed with floyd before jade offers an explanation.

“azul has requested you come visit him, this was the best way.”

“no, it’s not? he could have come to talk to me like a normal person.”

the octavinelle dorm opens, revealing the man of topic. “why be normal? besides, i am a very busy man, this was optimal.” optimal for you, you weren’t nabbed off the main street by a pair of eels. you close your eyes for a moment, mentally resetting.

you realize jade and floyd are still hanging off your arms so you shake them off as azul now takes the lead, showing you to his office, where he claims is the best location to have a chat. you’re not sure what he wants from you, or why you’re actually here, but it better be good.

azul sits, gesturing for you to take the seat across from his desk. the chair is simple, seemingly in pristine condition too. maybe it’s new. his desk, on the other hand, has definitely seen better days. there are knicks and scratches all around, marking up the beautiful detailing of the wood. you sit as you examine it.

azul clears his throat, stealing your attention from the chipped desk. “so, ramshackle prefect, are you one hundred percent sure you don’t know how you ended up here?”

you groan as soon as the words leave his lips. this cannot be the reason he’s gotten you prefect-napped by his vice housewarden and his brother. you stand to leave, not wanting to play along with azul’s ridiculous play on your arrival.

“wait- don’t go?” he sounds almost confused, as if he doesn’t know why you’d up and go.

“oh come on, azul, this is like our second proper meeting and you hound me for showing up in twisted wonderland? i don’t know, okay?” you sit back down.

he folds his hands on the desk in thought. he kisses his teeth before starting again, “alright, i’ll admit, that was low of me. how about this, i’ll offer a glimpse of my past in return for some of yours. i am very curious about you.”

at least he admit to his wrongdoing, but why is he interested in you and your past? azul must be able to see the confusion and consideration in your face, he continues. “i cannot lie when i say i haven’t felt the same since you arrived.” his face instantly flushes, as does yours. that really sounded like some twisted love confession.

“i-i mean there’s been this odd feeling i get when someone mentions your name, i can’t quite explain it.”

“azul, stop while you’re ahead. you’re digging a deeper grave here.” he nods, flushed cheeks hidden behind gloved hands.

for the next half an hour, the two of you ignore the odd confession azul accidentally spilled while you share childhood memories. it’s oddly intimate but comforting at the same time.

sometime during an anecdote you lean your arms on the desk, fiddling with the nearest pen to keep your hands busy. a habit that azul shares. he’s flicking a pen back and forth absentmindedly while he recounts the first day he met the twins.

azul lowers his hands, halting the pen's movements, and taps the top of your hand in a comforting attempt. “now, i hope i didn’t… make a… bad impression…” he trails off as quickly as he started.

your eyes are glued to your balled fist where purple glitters begin emanating from thin air, materializing the fated red string. you instinctively flatten your hand to watch the string work its way around your finger. across from you, azul is equally as stunned as he almost rips his glove in attempts to remove it, watching as his own matching shimmer appears.

you’re both stunned to silence. unsure of how to react, or what to say. until the boy across from you breaks the momentary silence, “i guess… i know why i was drawn… to you.” his voice is soft, almost scared as he speaks.

“maybe it was a good thing i was ‘shrimpy-napped’ today.” you’re just as quiet, eyes glossy.

shrimpy-napped? you’ll have to explain that one to him later. you have nothing but time… azul hopes.

kalim knows he can’t indulge the idea of a soulmate too much. he’s next in line to a wealthy family and carries an influential last name. despite knowing this, it’s always been a thought in his busy mind, knowing someone, somewhere is the missing piece to his mental puzzle.

for the last week, something has been bothering kalim. neither he nor jamil can figure out what it is, he’s passing his classes (to his knowledge), he’s got a trustworthy vice housewarden and no one has tried to kill him for the past few months… kalim couldn’t put his finger on the reason his stomach felt like it was in knots.

it got progressively worse over the week and he was afraid he was falling ill. a few tests later and he’s healthy as a horse. with a clean medical slate and nothing of real concern, the only thing kalim can do is plaster a smile on his face and go about his day, trying to ignore the sensation.

the large door separating the lounge from the kitchen swings open with great force. “jamil, i can’t take it anymore! it feels like there’s something wrong with me!”

“i believe i can assure you there’s nothing wrong with you, are you nervous about anything?”

“no,” kalim sighs, dropping his head into his hands. it’s been a week of no answers, and the only time he felt any better was in his classes. maybe it was because his mind was occupied by other things, or… there’s another reason.

you let your head fall back onto your pillow, looking over to grim. “well, weasel? am i dying, or am i dying.” the pads of grim’s paw feel across your forehead, not without shooting you a look over the nickname.

he retracts his paw, tucking it back by his side. “you feel fine? maybe you’re homesick?” grim offers a solution you hadn’t thought of. it wasn’t a non-possibility, you did get transported away from your homeland not two months ago.

you check the phone you were given for the time, “grim, we’re going to be late!” you shoot up straight like a firework, snatching your school bag and blazer before scurrying out the door, grim hot on your trail.

you know you’re not supposed to, but you take off running down the halls of NRC like you’re being chased. the last thing you need is to be late and get in trouble. you dodge other students who aren’t in the same rush you are, they’re probably in the right half of the school anyways. your class was on the opposite side of the school, up two flights of stairs. for someone with magic, this would be easy. no sweat.

you’re in the middle of mentally complaining when you zone back in, you gasp as you almost bullrush the student in front of you, but his companion quickly pulls him aside. your hands just slightly brush up against one another as you pass him. without stopping, because if you do you’ll surely be extremely late, you glance over your shoulder and yell an apology.

you catch sight of who you almost crashed into, and by the gods, you were almost dead. dead at the hands of jamil viper. you just about swept kalim al-asim straight off his feet and onto the ground, but thanks to jamil, you’re spared a swift demise.

many halls and two flights of stairs later and you reach your class. thankfully, just as you step in the bells ring. as you take your seat, you realize you feel a lot better all of a sudden.

a long, lazy hour later, the class finally ends. you’re freed from the grasps of boredom, but a pair of tan hands decked in golden jewellery find themselves on the top of your table, halting your attempt to leave peacefully.

the scarabia housewarden beams as you stand, startled. how did he know what class you’re in? what is he doing here, and what does he need with you?

a hundred questions blind you as kalim settles into the chair in front of your table. his beaming smile fell slightly into a smaller smile. you greet him, somewhat unsure of how you’re supposed to address him, as you know his title but haven’t really made friends with him yet. he dismisses it and asks to see your hands.

your teeth find your lip, biting down lightly in curiosity. you untuck your hands from your pockets and present them towards kalim’s outstretched ones. a gasp falls from his lips when he catches sight of your hand. your left hand.

you look down, unsure of the reason for his reaction.

then you see it. a gasp falls from your lips this time as you bring your hand closer to your face; a little red string, tied perfectly into a bow sits on the base of your little finger.

“when- who-... how!?” unfinished questions fall before you can think. you’ve met your soulmate without even knowing. this had to have happened today, but when? who was it? you only remember just about crashing into… kalim.

your face falls in disbelief. without thinking, you reach towards his hand, where a matching bow sits. the closer you get, the less uniform the bows become. when they’re within a few inches they begin to unravel and wrap around the other, like a vine conjoining in the middle of a wall.

kalim silently watches the spectacle in front of him, amazed. never in a hundred years did he think he’d ever be able to see this happen to him. growing up, he was told stories of soulmates and how they’re very unlikely to ever meet. but here he is, meeting the one the stars believed was best for him.

as you and kalim are watching the pair of strings move like magic a voice clears his throat by the door. you had no idea he was there but jamil shoots the housewarden a look, a warning of sorts, you assume. he knows there’s going to be a lot to unwrap with this newfound information. kalim knows it too, and so do you.

like why is your soulmate interdimensional? man… what a week. (it’s tuesday.)

vil liked the idea of a soulmate. would they be like him? or maybe the opposite. though, he didn’t actively search the lands for his soulmate, he was never opposed to the fact that the gods above, maybe even the seven, had picked someone for him.

him and his entourage of fans who would probably collectively lose their minds if vil announced the existence of his soulmate.

a few days ago, you were given an invitation by the pomefiore’s housewarden for a lesson on twisted wonderland etiquette. you assume crowley put him up to this, or maybe, vil wanted too. you weren’t sure, the only thing the invitation said was a date, time, and location.

now it’s the day, 4pm and you’re standing outside of the pomefiore’s large, castle-like dorm building. the perfectly trimmed bushes and blooming flowers give the exterior a nice, inviting aroma, but the sense of dread and fear have been gnawing on your insides since you passed through the mirror.

surely the wonderland’s etiquette can’t be so different from that of your homeland. maybe it was a ploy, or a faulty invitation. should you leave? yeah-

the door opens gracefully as you’re about to turn on the balls of your heels and high tail it back to the mirror. you’re met with the heeled housewarden of pomefiore, the illustrious vil schoenheit greets you kindly, inviting you in.

“thank you for uh, inviting me here.” you bow your head slightly, unsure.

“it looks like you’ve already got some experience under your belt, good.” does he seriously take you for a baby? you have basic manners, seriously, this cannot be a good use for your time.

but truth be told, vil solely invited you under the guise of an etiquette lesson because he’s had a feeling of lost since you appeared on the first day. something has been tugging at him since then and he had to find out what it is and how he can get rid of it.

vil guides you through elegant hallways, passing by large windows that look out to various places. large gardens, a fountain, beautiful blooming flowers, and chatting residents. all of it is somewhat overwhelming, but you can understand the constant need to be perfect, vil is the embodiment of it.

you trail slightly behind him as his heels tap on the flooring. you’re able to get a good look at him, his perfectly styled hair, creaseless uniform and perfect posture. you wonder how long he takes to get ready each morning.

the tap of his heels stops but you realize too late, you’re just about to crash into his back when he spins on the toes of his shoes. “before i forget, prefect, there’s something in my room i must fetch. come.” and then he’s off again, heels clicking on the shiny tile like tap shoes.

he swings the large detailed door to his room open, it’s decorated elegantly, like the rest of the pomefiore building. it’s something straight out of a designer competition, the sheets and curtains are silky, and expensive looking too.

“is there an ulterior motive for having me here?” the words fall from your lips as you’re looking around before you’re able to stop them. vil spins again, facing your after rooting through a drawer on his bedside table.

the blonde places a hand on your shoulder, gazing down through perfect eyelashes, “i believe with more practice, you won’t make a fool of yourself while you’re here.”

your brows furrow, is that the only reason he wanted to teach you? he thinks you’re a fool? you look over to the hand on your shoulder, but notice something other than his hand, which you were ready to swat away and go back to ramshackle.

iridescent purple glitters fall from midair, and you’re instantly filled with a sense of relief. like an ache that’s finally gone away, like you’ve found something you didn’t know you were yearning for.

technically, you did find something.

as you’re internally monologuing, you feel the hand on your shoulder tighten. vil has realized why he’s had an odd pull in your direction. you’re his soulmate. soul. mate. his mouth goes dry at the thought.

the magic-less human from a different world with an unbridled familiar, hand picked by the gods for him. he has one question: why? he releases your shoulder after you wince under the pressure, floating his hand to your raised one.

vil’s lips purse into a thin line, hiding the purple lipstick fully. he watches the string reach towards the one wrapped around your finger, moving as if controlled like a marionette. each draw of breath is slow, uncalculated and scared. the star believed he’d be excited, like anyone would be, if he found his soulmate, but your situation makes this hard.

he wants to enjoy this experience but you share the sentiment, your lips are pursed and eyes are wide.

the strings meet between your hands, tying into a neat bow between the other string. these fate strings are seemingly very smart; they’ve got some kind of gravitational pull towards its match. vil meets your gaze with an unexplainable shine glossing his pale eyes.

suddenly, his dorm door bursts open, revealing a disheveled rook, who’s actively attempting to smoothen the crinkles in his uniform and dust off his shoulders. he’s not in savanaclaw anymore. shocked, vil rips his hand from its place beside yours, shoving his hands under his arms as he crosses them.

“la roi du poison- oh, et la ramshackle préfet!” rook tosses his hands up, clearly not expecting you. “i hope i’m not interrupting, but there’s a problem in the lounge!” he starts back down the hall before vil can reply, leaving him no choice but to follow.

the housewarden apologizes quickly before only the tap and clack of his heels can be heard as he’s quick to follow his vice into whatever trouble someone’s caused.

you, on the other hand, are left with way more questions than this morning, but have the answer to one. the lifelong question about soulmates has been answered. somewhat.

idia didn’t believe he’d ever care even if he found his supposed soulmate. he’s too awkward, socially inept, and too focused on his games most days to consider searching. if luck was on his side eventually, and the day the string appears comes, he may just change his mind.

the first time you met idia properly, it was a complete mess. he often made appearances via floating tablet, or sent ortho in his place to meetings or gatherings. you heard from others that not many have seen the ignihyde housewarden in person for more than ten minutes total in the three years he’s been in NRC.

others are luckier with the introvert, like azul who shares his love for board games with idia. he’ll get all riled up during the club, going off on tangents, only to zip it moments later, utterly embarrassed about his outburst. azul had grown accustomed to idia’s back and forth attitude, and is more patient with him as a result.

you clutch the papers specifically handed to you by crowley for azul, something about a tax return for… his dorm? you didn’t quite understand what the headmage was yammering about before he ushered you out and directed you to the club, guaranteeing that you’d find the octavinelle housewarden there.

you pause in front of the class crowley mentioned, then push the door open. “well, if it isn’t the ramshackle prefect!” azul greets you as you enter the somewhat empty room, causing others to glance your way before returning to their games, including idia. his gaze lingering for but a moment longer from the corner of his eye. ortho greets you kindly as well, floating over to you, trying to peek at the small stack of papers.

“hello, azul. and ortho!” you smile to both.

“say hello to my brother, too!” ortho’s sweet voice rings as idia, who you now realize is his brother, looks as if he’s shaking like a leaf, ready to fly away with the wind.

“n-no, ortho, it’s okay.” his voice is quick, almost inaudible as he mumbles into his hood, which is doing a poor job of covering the flame-like hair that sprouts off his head.

you shrug walk closer to the table where azul and idia’s half finished game of checkers lies forgotten. you reach out and move around a white piece, claiming victory for the white team, who you assume was idia. you turn to azul and hand him the papers, “crowley sent me to give you these. something about a tax return? whatever he meant by that.”

azul takes the papers, tucking them under his arm. “i run a lounge open to any and all students, headmage must want his cut, i assume. you should come by some time! though, i’m surprised you didn’t know.”

“i uh, would if i could,” you pull the empty pocket liners out of your pockets comically, “i’m completely broke, wallet went poof when i… appeared? here.”

“ah-”

“well, azul, this was great but i’m going backtomydormnow, pleaseexcuseme.” idia’s unexpected, almost panic stricken voice breaks your conversation with azul as he stands, more like jumps, from his seat, startling not only you, but his brother and azul.

as the older shroud brother attempts to speed walk off, ortho floats around in front of him, trying to get him to stay, claiming he never leaves a game unfinished, or a score tied. idia tries to swerve around ortho, to get out as quick as he can, he’s not even fully sure why he wants to leave, why he feels he has to leave, but an overwhelming sense of familiarity surrounded him when you walked in. he tried to ignore it but it got worse the closer you came, and when you finished his game of checkers, he almost passed out.

he has to get out of here. back to the safety of his dorm room, to his games and favourite anime.

idia felt as if he was trapped in a triangle between azul, ortho, and you.

he stumbles over his own foot pathetically, causing you to reach out instinctively to hold onto his arm, hoping to steady him before he falls. idia pauses, looking scared as he brings a shaky hand close to his face. his eyes widen as you all watch a red string materialize from blue glittering stars tie itself around his pinky like magic. his face pales as you copy, bringing your left hand up to view.

a red bow sits neatly around the base of your pinky, blue glitter quickly fading. you slowly move your hand closer to idia’s, watching as the bows unravel and reach for one another. like a pair of vines, they wrap around each other until idia returns to his senses and rips his hand away, covering the new accessory to his everyday wear with his other hand. at the loss of its pair, your string returns to your pinky.

you stand there, utterly dumbfounded in the middle of the board game club. you came to simply deliver some papers to azul, but are now leaving with some very, very confusing new information.

you turn to azul who’s sporting a matching dumbfounded look, and ortho seems to be the only happy one at this point. when you turn back once again, idia has disappeared, possibly quicker than any teleportation magic known to magekind. ortho waves a swift goodbye, giggling as he tails after his brother.

you look at azul again, who’s mostly regained his composure, “well…?”

“what do you mean, ‘well’!? i could use a little more support here, azul. i just found out my soulmate isn’t even from my DIMENSION.” you drag your hands down your face, exasperated. and suddenly, very tired. “y’know what, don’t even answer that, i’m going back to ramshackle.”

you hear azul snicker as you march out of the classroom. asshole.

malleus cast the idea of a soulmate out long ago. with his millennium long life expectancy, he was sure he’d outlive, or had outlived, any type of lover the universe has assigned him.

the heir to briar valley was quite frustrated today. he had overheard some diasomnia students chatting about the idea of soulmates earlier in the morning and it’s been on his mind ever since. it’s well past the final class of the day, and he skipped dinner.

i don’t quite feel hungry as of now. he waved off lilia’s attempt to join them for the meal, worrying sebek the most. lilia quite literally had to hold the first year by the collar to stop him from chasing malleus down.

the housewarden shut himself in his room like a temperamental toddler. angry clouds crackle and pop outside, rivalling his emotions. his head felt like it was swimming in an indescribable pot of gelatin, it was heavy and sad, which troubled malleus more because he thought he was long over the idea of a little red string wrapping itself around his pinky.

what a trivial thing to be so upset over. some things in life aren’t fair, malleus knows that better than just about everyone. time is a thief and age is a curse, the heir gets to live hundreds of lives while that of humans perish so quickly.

sure, he’s enjoyed learning new traditions and customs that have sprouted within his lifetime, but he’s also watched the last remaining folks die in cultures, leaving their history to be forgotten over time.

malleus isn’t sure how, but he’s managed to be so deep in thought that he wandered to the spot he used to occupy before it gained a new resident. what’s now the ramshackle dorm, was once a beaten, dusty, forgotten building beside the main building of NRC.

the day you showed up was one he won’t forget. a human with an unruly, unkempt familiar who really has a knack for getting himself in trouble. since you’ve been living in the old building, fixing it up and going to classes alongside him and his peers, he’s stopped coming here for more than one reason.

it would be impolite to intrude on what is now your space, especially uninvited. he’s settled with lingering in the gardens in front of ramshackle. he’s taken a liking to the purple and blue flowers that have begun to wilt with the cooler season upcoming. malleus runs a finger over one, watching it instantly gain the strength to hold itself up, blooming once again. the purple petals shimmer with the lingering magic he shares, admiring the way it almost seems to follow his hand, asking for more.

“uh, excuse me?” a voice startles him back into focus, he clasps his hand behind his back and turns around. he’s met with a half asleep ramshackle prefect, hair messy and wrapped in a blanket.

“i apologize, i shall be going at once.” he’s been caught, he figures it’s time to find a new place to think.

you take a step forwards, looking the housewarden over, you’ve definitely seen him around before but he always looks either deep in thought or like he doesn’t want to be bothered, so you’ve kept your space from him. “no, wait.”

malleus falters, wait? he does just that. he doesn’t use his magic to teleport away, doesn’t walk backwards, doesn’t move. he allows you to look him over, to judge him, expecting the usual treatment. his guard remains high but he realizes how he towers over you, like he does with everyone else so he somewhat relaxes his body, trying to be smaller.

as you’re examining the semi-stranger in the garden, you notice the singular purple flower that’s in bloom. you tilt your head, looking past malleus. “did you… do that?”

malleus turns, suddenly remembering the flower. a small smile graces his lips as he leans down, picking the flower's stem near the middle. your brows knit together as he turns back and holds his hand out to you. the flower still shimmers from the magic he used. “i did.”

you pluck the flower from his hold, careful not to damage the delicate plant. you bring it close, “is there a reason you’re not in your dorm and in my garden? it’s late and sounds like it’ll rain at any moment,” you look upwards, expecting the sky to be as black as paint but instead you’re greeted with many, many twinkling stars and an almost full moon. “or… not?”

the housewarden follows your gaze, he hardly noticed the clouds have cleared. when did they do that? he swipes at his forehead, clearing his vision from the hair that sprouts around his horns.

“i suppose it is appropriate to explain my presence,” he turns back to you, bangs falling back into place. you’re still looking at the stars but you nod in agreement. “before you inhabited this building, i used to come here to think. since you’ve arrived, i’ve ceased that for clear reasons. i hope you do not mind i still roam the garden. it is quite lovely in the spring when everything begins to bloom.”

you listen to the horned individual, lightly caressing the flower unconsciously. the soft petals felt like nothing you’ve ever felt before, especially in a flower, could that have been due to the magic embedded in it?

“i don’t mind, it’s not like you’re being creepy about it, right?” he hums, “and besides, we all need a space to think. i’m… glad my little makeshift home can be comfortable enough for you.” you look up to him, moonlight glistening across your eyes.

you signal him to lean down, waving him towards you as you take a step closer to the not-so-stranger. his sharp eyes narrow ever so slightly, confused, but leans his head down.

you reach up to the tall man, setting the flower against the inside of his right horn. your finger grazes the side accidentally, you find it to be smoother than you expected. when you lean back, malleus stands up fully once again, and you’re able to take in how large he actually is. for a third year, he’s very tall. must run in the family.

suddenly, everything around goes quiet. no crickets chirp, no frogs sing, nothing. as if the world stopped breathing. the eerie feeling is felt by both you and malleus, but you catch on quicker. your eyes widen as you lock eyes with him, your eyes shoot to his left hand. lo and behold, a red string begins materializing from green shimmer as it slides itself over his pinky. you reach to grab his wrist, to examine what you seriously cannot believe is happening, but he beats you to it.

malleus evades your grasp as he moves quicker than you can see, he’s crouched beside you before you can blink. he’s intently watching the red string he’s sure he’d never see wrap around your little finger, breathless. but you–you’re frozen. frozen to the spot as a million thoughts run through your mind. the most important one though, is why your soulmate is from a whole different dimension. that’s… not good.

malleus’s only thought is: finally.

then dread hits him like a freight train. he wants to be so very happy, to be excited. to tell lilia, to tell someone that he’s found his soulmate, but he knows two things. one; you’re human. two; twisted wonderland is not your home.

malleus meets your eyes, they’re filled with an emotion he can’t place. but if this is bothering you, your face definitely shows it. he’s quick to stand, and as soon as you blink, he’s gone.

the purple flower, seemingly frozen in time, flutters from the place malleus’s head just was. a gust of wind suddenly picks up, stealing the flower from your outstretched grasp as clouds quickly fill the sky like they did earlier. a crackle, some thunder, and they’re ready to split open and flood these lands.

masterlist

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starmaidengarden · 2 days ago

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One more day!

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wakacchi · 7 months ago

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After all the cool things they do are actually the smallest things (˶ •́◡•̀ ˶)

Read more of this stuffs at my ko-fi here!

#twisted wonderland #twst+kareshi #twst x reader #twst imagines #ace trappola #idia shroud #ruggie bucchi #trey clover #jamil viper #ace x reader #idia x reader #ruggie x reader #trey x reader #jamil x reader

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devosin · 7 months ago

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GRIM ACCIDENTLY OUTING YOUR CRUSH ON HIM !! . . grim accidently blurting out how much you love the dorm head . .

gender neutral reader / fluff / crack taken seriously / mutual pinning

a/n: this has been rotting in my idea list for like over 2 years, enjoy! og account: @/cupids-chamber

MALLEUS DRACONIA

Malleus was surprised, when you had decided to tag along on his Gargoyle Study Club meeting, however he was ecstatic with the idea of you joining him, while he talked about his favorite things. Truly an exciting time, talking to his favorite person about his favorite things!

For once he didn't quite mind having no one at the meetings, because he got to spend time with you—and Grim . . he's there too . . In fact, Malleus kind of finds it endearing he stuck around this long with you, listening to him, despite clearly not being interested in the topic.

Malleus walked around, showing you his collection of gargoyles—explaining the extensive history of each one, and you listened, throughout his explanations which most people would find extremely boring, though seeing how passionate he was about the subject, you couldn't help but be engaged.

You followed along behind him, as he showed you each one, Grim on your shoulder, yawning rather loudly—clearly bored with the past hour, where you dragged him into Malleus's club meeting, which you passed off as a 'morale' thing to do—when he can clearly tell you did this because you liked him.

"Ah . . I have something I want to give to you"—Malleus shifted through the drawers, looking for the miniature gargoyles he had made for the both of you (well just you, he figured grim would appreciate something more . . edible . . he got tuna.).

Grim leans in closer to you, whispering rather loudly, so much so you knew Malleus could hear, "henchman, how much longer . . my whiskers are turning white here!!", he whispered all bit dramatically, and you sighed internally, mumbling a soft, "Grim not right now", in response.

After a few more moments of silence, Grim leaned back, and exclaimed, "You seriously like this guy, he likes gargoyles more then I like tuna—"

Grim paused, realizing he spoke a little more than he really should've. . . and Malleus paused, dropping whatever was in his hand to the floor, turning blankly at you, looking at you with a dumbfounded look on his face . . (he's processing, give him a minute.)

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Riddle isn't the kind of person to intrude in a conversation, especially when he knows he isn't wanted there (debatable)—He also doesn't enjoy listening in on others private conversations . . However, this case is different, obviously he has the right to be curious when you're being so very loud, I mean practically everyone can hear you!

His heels clicked on the floors, as he raced through the halls—Riddle doesn't often find himself in a rush, but lunch had started 5 minutes ago, and he was running behind on his schedule.

His hands gripped his notes tightly, and just as he was about to make a turn, he heard his name . .—Riddle stopped in his tracks, looking around, in order to find the source of the noise, that's when he spotted you . . and grim, who was speaking rather loudly.

Now, Riddle swears he's not purposefully ease-dropping, but Grim was loud. . he was bound to overhear anyways! . . Well that's what he'll keep telling himself, in order to ease the guilt of listening in on your private conversations.

"Riddle?!" Grim exclaimed, waving his little paws around in shock, "out of everyone henchman, you like that—", you covered Grim's mouth with your hand, whispering loudly in response, "Why don't you tell the whole school I like Riddle, Grim?!?"

Riddle paused in response to that, 'you liked him? . . as in romantically? . .', Riddle loses his grip on his notes, in shock. Papers scattered the floor with a thud, and before Riddle could fix the mess he had accidently caused, you turned, and faced him . . This is gonna be one long confessio—conversation.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

See, Vil isn't the kind of person to believe in a rumor or petty gossip that he hears across the halls of Pomefiore, because if there's drama then Octavinelle and Pomefiore are the absolute first at the crime scene—He's well aware of how a small lie and a fake rumor can go and ruin someone's life, which is why Vil prefers information from the source.

That being said, Vil does enjoy gossip—and at time's he draws his own conclusion to a topic, and keeps it to himself, he's on the middle line of it all, but you bet, he'll 'coincidentally' overhear all the drama going on at your family reunion but don't worry, he's amazing with secrets. (Headcanon: he probably pretends not to like gossip, but still listens and reacts when Rook tells him what he overheard)

And this is why Vil couldn't help it but approach Grim when he heard him complaining begrudgingly to himself, about you kicking him out and making him run 'errands' . . which were more likely then not, a distraction.

"Oh it's nothing, henchman just needed privacy . . ya . .", Vil raises a brow, and Grim should've shut down, but when a can of good tuna got involved . . Well a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.

Grim took the can of tuna from Vil, "They're preparing a confession letter", Grim spoke and Vil couldn't help but feel a pang of betrayal at the revelation, how could they like someone else . . When he's breathing! (At least wait till he's cremated, like gosh . . So as long as his body exists, even if he's not breathing, you should love him frfr #hawkmothcore for the win) . .

"To who?", Vil asks, curiously, and Grim stares at him blankly, "I'll give you another can to go—" he offers, "Gimme it right now, and I'll tell ya'".

Vil sighs, handing him another can, "The letter is for ya', henchman likes you—".

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

Now normally, Leona could care less as to what goes on in the botanical garden, while he takes a nap there (mainly because he's too asleep to register his surroundings), because even with his acute sense of hearing, rarely anyone visits, and if they do, they only do so to take a break or catch a breather, or to just immerse themselves in the garden as a sort of escape, so it's usually all quiet and soothing, for the most part.

However, some days he wasn't so lucky, be it students randomly popping in so they could skip class, or to have a picnic, or that random couple, who thinks it'd be a cute and adorable idea to have a date in the botanical garden because no-one goes there, and it's so secretive and the mystery excites them. (he hates, he fucking hates it, he's the biggest hater there is, he despises all couples equally.)

Leona was all comfortable, half-asleep, his eyes were closed as he was ready to just get some shut-eye, sleep for a couple hours—until, he heard footsteps, rather loud ones . . Now, he normally doesn't care, and to be frank, he doesn't care right now, he figured they're taking a small stroll, and will stop . . eventually. (delusional king!!)

"Grim this is ridiculous—", Leona's ears perked up as he heard your voice, now that had his eyes wide open, looking around for you . . Well he's not that curious, as to what you find 'ridiculous' (he's very curious, he needs to know each detail, tell him everything), but he does hope you expand on it.

"C'mon henchmen! The best way to get over someone is confess and get closure?", Grim was confused himself, with whatever he was saying, "Oh yea Grim, which class did you learn that from, romance 101 with Crowley?—", Leona snorts.

"No actually I asked Trien!" Grim says . . a bit too confidently for comfort, "Grim . . I don't think you should be proud of that", you point out.

"Just tell Leona you like him? He's not gonna kill ya"

". . ." Leona froze, . . you liked him? I mean yea that makes sense, he's really attractive, but you—Liked him? . .

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

Azul states that he doesn't favor you that much—although the twins will argue otherwise, especially since Azul got you to taste test the new Monstro Lounge menu items, before he released it . . before even tasting it himself, . . and maybe he didn't want to let it slip that he liked you only—because he ended up also inviting Grim to taste the food with you—And with Crowley's payments . . well you were more than willing to accept free food.

To be fair, Azul is aware you do get a bit more special treatment, and deep-down he's well aware he likes you, but confronting his feelings? in this economy? . . not gonna happen . . He'd rather you assume he's a cat person who likes Grim, because clearly that's what you think of him, since he's so pretty and smart and good at covering his feelings. (He's not, he's boyfailing a little too close to the sun.)

Azul had everything set up—and by that he means, he had a plan and got other people to set it up for him, according to said plan, because he couldn't give away the fact that he had planned it himself, no . . that would make it seem like he was into you, and he'd rather die then you know that—In fact, he'd rather have his tentacles inked dry and cut off, fried and dipped in his ink, and shoved so far down his throat he chokes and dies before that even remotely comes close to happening.

You sat beside Azul, as he asked asked you about the food, and you gave responses that he mostly liked, . . well you did have some comments about the blue cheese rigatoni . . But to be fair, he entrusted the blue cheese to Floyd . .

Grim was half-way through his food, when he randomly spoke, with his mouth rather full, "This is amazing . . I can see why you like this guy henchman . .—" Azul paused and he practically stopped blinking, if his ears could perk up, then it would right now, "—for once your taste in men . . has good justification henchm—" Grim only paused when he recognized your glare, and only then did he realize how badly he fucked up . . "I'm not getting the good tuna for awhile . . am I?"

KALIM AL-ASIM

Kalim doesn't usually come in without an appointment (lies), or before informing you beforehand (lies on top of lies), and he doesn't really like invading your personal time (and lies again) . . at least not knowingly, but today was different . . he wanted to go somewhere with you! It's a surprise, and surely you'd appreciate him randomly popping into your dorm and dragging you outside, in the sunlight like an upstanding citizen and friend.

Kalim settles on the couch in the lounge of Ramshackle, stretching his arms out as he gets comfortable. All the while, Grim stares him down, . . something Kalim noticed off the get-go, "Why are you looking at me like that?", he calls out, confused and a tad bit unnerved at the blatant piercing stare.

"You're the one henchman likes, right? . .—what's your credit score? . . how many cans of tuna are we talking—"

Kalim paused, ". . . what?", he asks blankly, still paused at the first half of Grim's sentence, enough to not notice or take offense to the rest of his words and questions. "Why can't ya' hear me . . ?! I asked what's your credit scor—", grim responds, only to be cut-off mid-sentence by Kalim "BEFORE THAT!"

"That you're the person henchman lik—", Grim pauses as he hears your voice, and as you enter the room, Grim realizes his mistake, "Fuck."

"Kalim act natural!" Grim asks, as he goes back into his usual stance, but as he see's Kalim not moving, . . "who am I kidding . . no one can get shit through to ya' in one go . . I'm fucked."

IDIA SHROUD

Idia had his gaming equipment set up for two, well it would be three—but paws and controllers isn't the most fun thing to play around with, therefore Grim has opted to watching, instead of playing. Which he gets bored of rather fast, and well Ortho preferred to watch his older brother then play, or do normal kid things like advanced calculus.

Although Idia didn't really mind that, he enjoyed playing with you, because you were a really good challenge, a true gamer! . . And with newer games, he found that you listened and got the hang of it fast, and it was fun helping you grow your account on his favorite games, and it was also fun listening to you ramble about your favorite games from your world.

"So yea in genshin impact—", you rambled on and on about the Fontaine chapter, and about the 'archon' which was like the great seven, and how sad her storyline was, Idia dabbled in Lore from time to time, though he really found it amusing how you took the time to describe everything, you really helped immerse him in the storyline, and to be honest, sometimes he could imagine he was playing the game with you.

"—and then if you went into this specific area you could actually hear her cry . . OH oh! . . and when Neuvillette cried, it would like downpour so hard . . ", you continued rambling, and Idia would just listen, so much so that you guys completely forgot the game you were actually playing . . which seemed to upset Grim, who wanted to watch.

"Yea yea . . henchmen, we get it was sad, and it's fun talking to the love of your life—but could we please have more playing and less talking!", Grim explained rather dramatically, his paws flinging up, only to be silenced when he saw the two of you silent, looking at each other . . and then Idia's hair burst up in bright pink flames . .

commissions / discord server / (all open) commissions

@ devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work/theme without prior permission and or confirmation.

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