lovely request--here are some drawings!!ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ

1. epel ft. deuce attempting to pull ruggie's upside down move in spelldrive. you need to work on your core strength son

2 + 3. It's a beefy kouhai's duty to help his senpai when he's too exhausted to carry their dormleader's laundry

The Phantom Bride Ace and Wish Upon a Star Deuce

pairing : deuce spade x GN!reader (but the last hc is for fem!reader whoops)

A/N : he's so boyfriend material do u guys agree ALSO PLEASE SEND REQUEST WRITERS BLOCK IS COMING FOR ME.

The moment classes end, he’s already by your side, effortlessly slinging your bag over his shoulder before you can even protest. And when you insist you can walk yourself to Ramshackle—because you’re so independent. He just smiles that soft smile of his, “It’s my responsibility as your boyfriend,” he says, brushing off your protests with ease. “Just let me take care of you.” With how gentle he is about it, it’s hard to argue honestly.

To be loved, is to be seen; he believes in that saying firmly. He notices everything about you—your favorite snacks, your hobbies, the rhythm of your footsteps, the softness of your laugh; He’s memorized it all without even trying. So the second your laughter dips, just a little too quiet, a little too strained—he catches it instantly. He’s by your side instantly, gently threading his fingers through yours as he leans in with that worried softness in his eyes. “...Hey—you okay? You seem a little off.”

The moment someone so much as speaks to you with the wrong tone, Deuce’s whole demeanor shifts. He tries to keep calm—shoulders tense, voice steady but firm. “Hey, what you said was out of line. Apologize to Yuu,” he says, giving the other person a chance to back down gracefully. But if they scoff or brush it off? That’s when he snaps. Before anyone can react, he’s got the student by the collar, pulling them close with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. His voice drops into something cold and dangerous. “I’m not kidding. You really don’t want to see where this goes if you don’t cooperate.”

Whenever life starts to feel too heavy, too tight, too overwhelming—Deuce is at your side before you even have the chance to reach out. He shows up with a bouquet of roses tucked under one arm and your favorite snacks in the other. When you tell him he didn’t have to do all that, he just stares at you with an unimpressed look, raising a brow as if you just said the most ridiculous thing. “Uhm, but this is the bare minimum?” he replies, genuinely confused that you’d expect anything less. His mom raised him too well, because you somehow ended up with the sweetest, most thoughtful boyfriend anyone could ask for.

He cherishes the quiet moments most, the ones where the world finally goes quiet and it’s just you and him. His head rests comfortably on your lap, your fingers combing through his hair in slow, gentle strokes. Every now and then he tilts his face up to look at you, eyes soft and full of that dazed, lovesick look. Without meaning to, the words slip out in a low murmur, “...You’re so beautiful, you know that?” The moment he realizes he actually said it aloud, his entire face turns red. He immediately covers his face with his hands. “I didn’t mean to say it out loud..”

Whenever the two of you stop by Mr. S’s Mystery Shop, you never get to carry a single thing—not even the lightest bag. The moment you reach for one, he’s already taking it from your hands with a firm shake of his head. He insists on carrying everything, no matter how heavy it is. “It’s bad manners for a guy to let his partner haul stuff around.” He says, voice firm as he shifts all the bags into one hand so he can hold yours in the another.

You get hit with cuteness aggression at the most random times, and Deuce never sees it coming. One second he’s minding his business, the next you’re showering him with sudden kisses—and instantly, his whole face erupts in red. “What was that for—!?” he stammers, trying to hide behind his hand, ears burning, eyes wide with flustered panic. He peeks at you through his fingers before muttering, voice soft and shaky, “I’m not saying I didn’t like it, just—maybe warn me next time…”

Whenever you say your feet hurt from walking—whether you mean it or you’re just joking around; He scoops you up into his arms like it’s the most natural thing in the world. No hesitation, no questions asked. And when you start protesting, telling him to put you down, he only tightens his hold a little, giving you that stubborn, earnest look of his. “We don’t want my princess/prince to get tired, do we now?”

You’re woven into his life, whether you realize it or not. He carries a polaroid of you in his wallet tucked right where he’ll see it every time he opens it. His keychain matches yours, a little reminder that you’re connected even when you’re apart. And those hair ties on his wrist? He claims they’re ‘just in case,’ but everyone knows it’s because they’re yours. One way or another, you’re always with him. He makes sure of it.

Whenever another NRC student even tries to put their hands on you, he’s there in a heartbeat. His fingers wrap around their wrist before they can even react, his expression turning ice-cold in an instant. That distant, warning glare of his is enough to make anyone freeze. “You shouldn’t lay your hands on a lady, especially my lady.”

+ an extra (checks ibispaint) 19 minute sketch