#vesperwrites

"I do...!" Your words come out a bit more desperate. "You... You know you should go enjoy looking at a pretty tree. It's one of the few things you've actually been invited to so—"

"Yes, as your plus one." He needs to...! Unfortunately, going with him to this event is just too... romantic. You can't bear thinking of it that way while he just views it as friendship! It's so demeaning...! And and...! It would really suck, not just for you. There would be some empty pain in you knowing you want something more with Malleus, fated to never have it because of his position. But, it sucks for him too.

He just wants a friend and... You don't really want to be his friend. You want to be something else entirely. Probably not what he needs.

"It's okay. You know they're not going to kick you out just because I'm not there." You fake a cough as the breeze blows by. Malleus steps in the direction the wind comes, his back effectively shielding it from hitting you anymore. "... It's a once every 10 year thing, It'd be nice to see it."

"I can live long enough to see it again." He mentions it casually, and yet... disappointingly. "... It's a pixie dust tree, I will see it very often, whether in town or not."

"Then... You should see it for me." You remember his hand is still on your forehead. It's only when you grab onto it that he remembers it's there. "If you see it, you can tell me, and it would be like I saw it too." You avoid mentioning phones. You doubt he would figure out how to record the sight anyway. His eyes watch as you bring his hand down, your cold fingers leaving his limb even cooler than it was before. But, he doesn't mind.

"Are you sure? I do not mind devoting my time to you. I would never mind it." You can feel your heart beat faster at the phrase. But you remember that he cares deeply for everyone he knows. It's not exactly special. "... I do not mind taking care of you." His fingers trace over the ring on your finger. He's about to reach out before you step into your doorway.

"I'll be fine, just go before the event starts."

"..."

Malleus watches as you disappear behind the door. Taking a minute to stare at the glass before walking away.

"..."

"Now, why would you do that?"

"... He makes me nervous." For a moment, you and your companion are left silently staring at each other. You come to an agreement when both of you sigh in unison. "Sorry, I don't really know what to do when it comes to that guy..."

"You could've accepted it?" The ghost floats aimlessly above you as you rub your arms, finding frictional warmth.

"Well... Yeah, but no."

"And why is that?"

"He wants to be friends. And I... don't really want to be. It means for both of us—" You stop when cold air waves on your left hand, looking to the side at a pouting specter. "What...?"

"You have a ring on your left ring finger."

"... Yeah...?"

"Who'd you get it from?"

"Malleus...? Where are you going with this exactly—"

"... and this necklace too?" He points at your chest. "You know, dragons use shiny stuff as a courting ritual—"

"Oh, I am not listening to this." You leave before he can finish, fake coughing all the way up to your room. "I am sick get away from me!"

"And I'm already dead! Now listen to me he definitely wants you—"

You groan at the bright light that shines through your window. Seriously... You live on the second floor, and it's night. Where is it even coming from...?

It's changing colors, while pretty, are frankly getting on your nerves. But with each step you take closer to your window, you realize the shifting hues are similar to the... tree in town. And also... flex of gold shift through the air, as if fairies were flying.

There's... this is a joke right?

You change your strides to be faster, your body hitting the windowsill.

The ground is riddled with dirt, as the root rests on top of the ground. But there it is.

... On your front lawn...

"Do you like it?" Malleus suddenly appears beside you, sitting on your ledge. "Since you couldn't come to town, I thought I could just bring the event to you." Your silence has him turning his head, his gaze focused on the way the leaves' lights shine on your face.

"Yeah... I do." You snap out of your trance when fingers touch your skin, looking over to see Malleus swiping away the collar of your clothes. "... Malleus...?" You're shushed when he kisses your shoulder, a soft smile on his lips.

"I wished to spend the New Year's with my dearest, Child of Man." The finger adorned with your ring tingles at his words.

"You... Like me?" Your sentence comes out more awkward than intended, but it's obvious either way would've led to Malleus quirking his eyebrows.

"Of course I do. We are engaged, are we not?" His hands take hold of your left, his black nails gently rubbing over the gem.

"We are...?" Even through the confusion, fairy dust seems to continue scattering through the air. "... I thought you just saw me as a friend..."

"I gave you a wedding ring."

"... Thought it was just a gift."

"I gave you the richest of treasures."

"More gifts."

"I told you I love you several times."

"I thought you were just that type of friend...?"

A beat of silence passes. Several do, and the changing colors of the leaves support this fact. You're about to apologize before you hear quiet laughs, the prince's hair draping over his face as he turns his head down. Malleus remains turned down, his eyes focused solely on your finger.

"Do you feel the same way?"

"I..."

...

Malleus takes hold of your waist, his fingers grasping the clothes on your skin as your arms wrap around his neck. You didn't really expect to be kissing the same fae you claimed had no feelings for you mere hours after saying it.

When you push him away, his lips continue chasing after yours. It's only when he remembers you need to breathe does he separate.

"Malleus... Hold on." You're struck with a realization, your head turning to look at the fairy dust tree. The gold glitter still adorns its leaves as they change hues.

"Yes?"

"Did... Did you rip out the tree?"

"I did. It wasn't very hard to do—" He trails off when you softly hit his chest.

"You realize that tree was the entire event in town, right?"

"Yes? Because of that, I wanted to experience it with you."

"... I have a feeling someone is going to arrive soon." You watch as Malleus furrows his brows, and an obvious obliviousness in his iris.

You both separate when a frantic knocking is heard, Crowley yelling at you to answer your front door.

"Are you and daddy getting a divorce?" 

the question comes to your ears suddenly, as your daughter helps you fold the bedsheets you had spread out in the sun, that early summer morning.

"No honey" you reassure her immediately "Sometimes he makes me angry and other times I make him angry, but then we talk about it and it all works out" you explain quietly, trying to figure out if there had been something that had triggered that insecurity. 

"Lately daddy got so weird, I thought it was because you were mad at him for things!" she tells you, widening her blue eyes, not embarrassed at all  for asking a private question, but surely relieved by your reaction. You pat her head and know she's not entirely done with the conversation, so you ask her if she's in the mood for a snack knowing full well that, just like her beloved dad, the family's little one is easily bribed with good food.

Looking at her closely, Mirai was no longer so little, but  day after day was growing up into a teenager.

Some weeks ago, you had mentioned it to your husband, but he seemed reluctant to accept his sugarplum's forthcoming entry into the wonderful world of puberty.

You clearly remember his reaction, too: he was astonished at the sudden awareness of that fact, to which he could not have objected. He began to feel a strange pressure , he was so utterly worried in so little time that he had forbidden his daughter to study with his childhood friend Shinji, as soon as he noticed that their relationship was beginning to be tinged with the shades of first love.

"But dad, he's good at Physics and I'm good at Math, we're a kick-ass team! We have to beat those section-B suckers at the finals! " she challenged him vigorously at the breakfast table each morning, playing on the innate competitive spirit of her father, who for the first time in his life, had been indifferent to her demands.

She had huffed, sulked, threatened perpetual silence, but for the first time since she was born, she had received a fat 'no' as an answer from her worshipped father, who now, for no apparent reason, has turned into a ruthless tyrant .

"Dad's such a weirdo, you should get a divorce, for real!" you hear her grumble, as she brings a large strawberry to her mouth and then furiously texts on her mobile phone.

You laugh, because at that moment you feel like you see your husband Daiki, when he tries to get his way, after he's been taken back by you.

"Come on, honey. I'm not divorcing your dad because he won't let you see Shinji!" you taunt her, earning a long frown and a shrug.

"This sucks, all my friends get to study in the library, I'm the only loser who has a curfew! A daytime curfew mom! The lamest thing ever!" the little girl tries to explain, as she turns the display on her phone to show you a picture of her little group of friends, with the ever-present Shinji Midorima sitting at one end of the long table.

"Mom… please, I will be mocked my whole life ‘cause of your husband!" she whines.

"Mirai, the both of you need to cut it out. Enough is enough. I'll talk to dad, but stop sulking!" you propose, cracking a smile from her.

If you had been asked who between your daughter and her father was more stubborn, you would not have been able to answer. A dinner of half words had led to an equally tense after-dinner, during which the little girl had locked herself in her room, pretending to forget her weekly appointment made of movies and popcorn with the man.

"She hates me" 

Sitting on the wide bed in your master bedroom, a melodramatic Daiki greets you as soon as you get out of the shower, still wrapped in your white bathrobe.

"That's not true, she just wants some daddy attention" you smile at him, letting him join you in front of the walk-in wardrobe. You feel his large hands close on your belly, as he sinks his face into the nape of your neck to leave many small kisses on your damp skin. He’s so warm and comfy against your back, so delightfully provocative.

"You are tickling me" you say softly, turning to him, bringing your hand to his handsome face to lead him to you, and kiss him on the lips , aware that it certainly won't be just a kiss that will be returned.

"It's not fair, babe!" he sighs when you are forced to point out that his hand on your thigh, as much as it is always a good idea, would make you late for work.

"I know my love, I know " you smile playfully at him, as your fingers draw imaginary lines on his bare shoulders "My on-call shift ensures I can be home tomorrow morning, when you happen to be resting too.... Just a few hours and then I'll be all yours" you conclude, giving him a little kiss between the strong pecs.

"What was that?" he feigns outrage, cradling you in his arms some more.

"It's to remind you that you need to talk to your princess, and quickly. I can't bear to see both of you in this mood any longer” you tell him, closing your eyes, now that your head rests on his chest.

"Alright, alright" you hear him sigh, as he pulls away from you with one last kiss.

You smile at the thought of that almost seven-foot giant being intimidated by a tiny wren like Mirai. Your beautiful husband, so firm and swaggering in appearance but so tender and careful. Aomine, the ace of the miracle generation, who worries that his little girl might be heartbroken, might be laughed at by her schoolmates or, even worse, might meet a pervert with no feelings. He, so dedicated to his mission that pictures the patient and well-mannered son of Shintaro Midorima, the little boy who has grown up as well under his nose, like a bloodthirsty dragon.

You follow his slowly moving figure and, once again, you are enraptured by his strong back, broad shoulders and long, muscular legs. You smile back at him, catching the attention of those intense eyes that you can't wait to be eaten up by.

"Daiki?" you call him just before he leaves the room.

"Have you changed your mind already, babe?" he asks, sensing your state and smirking.

"Put a shirt on" you tell him, making him laugh.

You know that you shouldn't, but you also know that you can't resist the temptation of seeing those two stubborn people confront each other, so you hurriedly get dressed and just as quickly reach the threshold of your daughter's room, who has just let her father in, greeted with an exasperated look and a long sigh.

Mirai throws herself on the bed, face to the wall and arms folded, in the best tradition of her tantrums, heedless of Daiki's presence sitting beside her.

"Sweetheart, come on, look at me" he's telling her smoothly, rubbing her back gently, until the little girl decides to roll towards him, who can finally see her in the eyes.

"So what?" she asks impishly, gripping her mobile phone to let the poor parent know she has no time to waste. 

If you didn't know the trouble your husband is going through, that whole charade would look comical to you.

"I know you're mad at me" he tells her, moving the phone behind the pillow "Listen, you're growing up and I don't know how to handle things. You see, I freak out. A bit. A lot. I'm sorry" he lets out a big sigh.

"You surely do, dad!" underlines the thin voice of your daughter, far from willing to bury the hatchet.

"But I love you" he tells her, putting a hand on her head and caressing her hair.

"I love you too dad, but ...Everyone at school thinks I'm weird because of Math club, and you don't help giving me those dumb rules!" she whines, lowering her gaze.

"I get it. What do you wanna do, then ?" he asks her, letting the little girl sit next to him so he can look her straight in the face.

"I want to stay and study in the library with Shinji and the others!" she claims.

"That's it?" your husband's voice immediately picks her up, and you tend your ear because you certainly won’t miss the crucial moment of their conversation.

"I...I'd also like you to give Shinji permission to come home, just once in a while. Mum said she won't, if you don't agree too” she tells him all in one breath.

You can actually see her, your sweet, little, adorable daughter, rolling her big puppy eyes for her father to give in.

"Fine, but only if one of us parents is home, understood?" you smile when you hear your husband's voice surrender, sealing the final peace between the two.

You go back to your room to retrieve your keys and bag and when you call them to say goodbye, you find again the smiling and happy partners in crime, ready for their special evening.

"Are you ok?" you ask the little girl, firmly in your husband's arms.

"Yes mum, we made up. Daddy told me that now that I'm all grown up I can be mistaken for his girlfriend, how cool is that?" she announces to you at the height of her elation, which you hold back from dismantling.

"Good for you, my love!" you smile at your little girl, rubbing her tummy " Don't be late,don't set the house on fire while I'm gone!" you grin, as your husband stoops down, allowing  your daughter to kiss you, and then he does the same, of course in his own sultry way.

"Ew, so gross dad!" you hear the girl’s comment next to your ear, before her father puts her down to claim more reward for that heroic effort of his.

Too bad you've still a doubt left.

"Your girlfriend huh?" you ask him in a wry tone.

Riddle is left alone in the center of everyone, eyes bloodshot as his eyes go over and over across your name. The taste of your syllables on his tongue is horribly sweet, like a strawberry tart he couldn't get enough of.

He despises it.

He’s on the verge of calming the fire in his chest, remembering Trey's words. It's a better image for the queen to be calm, collected— What is that smell?

When he sniffs a familiar scent in the hall atmosphere, he tenses. One that he’s tried searching for in perfumes and colognes… The closest he's gotten to the smell, he would spray it on his textbooks, on the hard covers, only of course. Only close, not exact. He has no idea why he just… He just needs to have that scent on hand… Maybe it's just because the smell itself is so calming, or maybe just something new for him to educate on—Ah.

Perhaps it’s to dump the contents out in rage? After all, the scent has always been… Yours.

You bump shoulders with the scarlet tyrant, his head remaining focused on the board in front of you. He thinks he should really give you a lesson on personal space, because why are you lingering so close? (You're not. You're a reasonable distance from him.)… Most importantly, why does he not hate it as much as he wants to…? He waits until you find your place on the ranks, a tiny gasp coming from you as if you didn't expect it.

“Hey, I’m first," you mutter, tilting your head as you think some more, "I didn’t even study for that thing though…” You seem oblivious to the crowd that whispers around the two of you. What makes it worse is that you seem to be equally naive to the raging Heartslaybul tyrant next to you. Courtesy to such heedlessness from you, you remain in his vicinity, each movement spreading your horribly addicting smell to waft in Riddle's direction. His lip lifts as if it's a stench; he knows full well it's not, though. It's a sweet dessert.

Riddle's eyes slowly move toward you in a choppy movement, a slight twitch in his left optical. He’s trying to contain the… He shouldn’t feel such a petty emotion, as to what his mother says, but he’ll say it… Hate—In his heart.

“Did you really…?” His voice is strained, but as usual, your carelessness has you oblivious. “Don’t tell me you cheated… That’s quite a violation of school rules.” If you say yes, he’s ready to collar that pretty neck of yours. Unfortunately, his frustration radiates in waves, even if he does attempt to keep a calm face. His blank slate is met by your smile, hidden by your hand. Yes, there's no doubt… Ace has rubbed off on you, hasn't he?

“… Mm… I didn’t." Your lips twitch upward, "But it does feel better coming before you all by myself.” Your nonchalance disappears, replaced with a veneer of vex as you smile at him. He’s ready to hit you with his signature spell, the crowd dispersing before they can get caught in the crossfire. You seem too preoccupied staring at his redeeming face to acknowledge his magic pen in his hand. He’s swinging his arm up, pointing the pen your direction, only to see Trey walking towards him from behind you. There’s no doubt he’s trying to mediate the situation, but it’s too late, he will punish you—

"Riddle." The feeling of your hands taking his quickly cuts off his rampage, his pupils dilating at your touch. You… You’re mocking him, you must be. That smile of yours is much too distracting in its softness to be genuine. He knows the ways of a rulebreaker; he’s broken one too many. This is just a ploy to get off scot-free. He heaves another grunt of frustration when your touch has you squeezing his hand, the grip on his magic pen fading.

With a clattering sound on his pen, the only ones left in the hallway are you, Riddle, and Trey. Trey looks closely at the way Riddle, one who would typically lecture a rulebreaker for dropping his magic pen, only stares at the way you hold his hand. His gaze flickers between your face and your intertwining fingers.

“What are you…? I don’t want to deal with a troublesome—“ slowly, you move your warmth away from his skin, and cold air replaces the spots where your touch was. A reminder that you’re now disconnected. His hands follow your receding warmth before remembering he hates you. Black eyes stare down at his palm, fingers opening and closing. Weirdly, he could feel your body through the leather. Wait, no it's not… What is going on with his head?

“Then should I never talk to you again, Riddle?” There’s still an expression of taunt in your face, one that he should really be enraged at, but your words have him conflicted. “That sounds good, right?” You cross your arms, sighing as you dramatize your head shake. You really do hang out with Ace… "You really can't stand me…" Your statement only worsens his inner confusion. "But—" Whatever it was you were going to say sounded as if it was meant to be as smooth as possible. Like you've practiced millions of times before. You seem to catch yourself before uttering it.

… It shouldn’t, though. Not at all. If you never talked to him again, he’d be less troubled. Even better if you never appeared again, he wouldn’t be distracted by the sight of you anymore. He has no idea why that is…

“…” he’s silent. Before he knows it, you’re walking away. He reaches out in fear, fearing that you misinterpreted his silence as confirmation. He doesn’t know why, but he does. Though his hand doesn’t contact you like he hoped, your form is already behind the wall. His arm falls to his side as Trey walks up to him, a smile on his face despite what transpired. He can feel Trey has something to say. Most likely some close call statement left to calm him.

“Huh, I guess you really do have a crush on them.” He can hear a slight chuckle in his

“… What?”

Little to his knowledge, you’re behind the wall, clutching your chest as you desperately deny the "I’m in love with you" that tries escaping from your heart. 

...

Riddle remembers the fear on your face when he overblotted. He remembers because he leant close to your face, ink dripping on you as you breathe heavily. You reminded him of the roses that are painted, pretty. Even in his most horrific form, your hands take his, horror blended with… Fondness. The same ones that appear in his mother’s eyes when he does good in his studies, but only then. 

Yet, a deeper part of him recognizes that look… as the one you always have on. 

“I…” you whisper through your shaky words, repeating "I" over and over again like the next thing you wish to say is the hardest phrase in the world to pronounce. But it must be if someone like you can’t say it. The way you turn away tells him you’ve given up on telling him what you wanted to confess. Then that obnoxious smile of yours is on your lips, a sign you’re ready to jab him with words, “You’re not always right, Riddle.”

…

When he comes to, in his tears, his eyes connect with your bruised ones. He lies on the grassy floor of Heartslaybul's maze, looking up as you block the sun. Or maybe enhance it? It seems objectively brighter than it usually is. It’s pathetic… you’re the last person he wishes to see him crying. But… It’s not for the reasons before, where his sole object of hate was you. Riddle props himself up, looking straight at you while everyone crowds. He stops anymore tears from dripping down his skin before calling your attention.

"[Name], I—"

He’s come to a realization, one that he won’t say out loud. At some point he will, but now—

“I’m in love with you.” 

For a moment, his eyes widen, worrying he confessed his own feelings out loud for everyone to hear, but then his mind registers the voice… and the way everyone looks over at your beaten form. The realization hits you hard, your hands flying up to cover your mouth in horror. 

Everyone's silent stares have you awkwardly shifting in your spot. When it’s become too much to bear, you shuffle to your dorm. Once you make it back to the mirror chamber of Heartslaybul, he can hear you make a run for the mirror, your little trio following in suit.

Riddle swears that once he sees you, he will say those three words to you as well. But… he'll make sure to do so in private.

[ Try to keep it hidden, Honey, we can see right through you ]

Ace Trappola swears you’re some secret agent set to make his life hell. You've been grouped together by the school in some makeshift trio along with Deuce and Grim. But there's no way he even considers you his friend…!

Your laugh echoes through his mind, each prank you’ve pulled replayed, all your teasing remarks… You’re just playing with him…! Not even in the fun way, either! It can’t be, not with the way you point and laugh when he falls for a stupid trap made by you. Seriously, is there a way for you to just disappear!? … Okay, well maybe he doesn’t want that, but he sure feels like it! 

He finds himself sitting in front of you. In Night Raven College, it’s never been common to report stuff like that. If anything, it’s always been the expectation that, if you’re being made a victim, to should confront them yourself. Reporting you just seems like a humiliation ritual, especially if word gets out that he can't face his own issues.

“What? Are you gonna throw me out the window, Acey?” You sip your drink through a straw, gazing at Ace through a lifted brow. The two of you are sitting in Ramshackle, a dorm he's stood in a lot despite his hate for you. Deuce and Grim lost rock, paper, scissors, with the two of them being the ones who have to collect all the food. Leaving him and… you.

"Nah, you'd probably take it as some flirtation invitation."

"Wow, you know me so well…" You roll your eyes, your voice dead as you rest your head on your arms. You stare up at him, and the way he refuses to look you in the eyes, pouting as he resorts to looking at the window instead. You sit up, standing from your chair. He pretends not to care at all, even closing his eyes. He only opens them when he feels your shoulder touch his. Still attempting nonchalance, he sorta sucks at it though. His eyes occasionally glance at you, peeking at you a few seconds before looking back at the window, the cycle repeating over and over.

The two of you connect glances for a moment, Ace sucking in a breath before harshly turning. He's half tempted to call you obsessive, but his words are stuck in his throat.

Damn… Where are his acting skills when he needs them…?!

"Kay, yeah, guess I'm ugly." You mutter, leaning back into the wooden. Your shoulder finally leaves his, and he feels like he can breathe again. But his body has a second issue… He's cold now.

"What? I didn't say that—" You quirk an eyebrow, waiting for the rest of his sentence. "… Yeah, you're hideous." There's a twitch in his lip when he says it.

"Huh… Maybe it's contagious…" Clicking your lips, you're about to laugh before Ace turns to you.

"We're not friends." The light from the window frames him in a pretty light, yet his words have you furrowing your brows. "Actually, I'm not really friends with any of you. You're just… All there when I am…!" He watches you blink, light escaping from behind him and hitting your eyes, he watches with great intent at the way your eyes dilate. "… Seriously…"

"Is that how you feel?"

"What else is there to feel? You play around like we're friends, but you do it in such.. I don't know, man, but it gets on my nerves." His hand combs through his hair, when he spreads his legs, his knee touches yours, and out of instinct, he doesn't move. He looks down when you move yours, though.

"That's how you saw it?"

"Yeah? Every time you laugh, I get this feeling in my gut. Every time I look at you, I just get filled with the urge to run at you." With malicious intent? He feels like he should add that, but it doesn't sound right… It's not malice. "Stop taking up my time."

"Ace?" You speak, your hand about to reach out before retracting back into your person. He watches you do so, and he's tempted to take back what he said, but he restrains. "You're mean, you know that?"

"Yeah? So is literally everyone else at this school—!" He cuts of when your hands push him off the chair, his back hitting the wall as you stand up. "What the hell—?!"

"Not everyone else is in love with you, though! You—!" Your eyes widen when you realize the confession, only connecting the dots when you watch Ace's pupils stare straight at you. He's lunging himself off the wall to grab you too, before—

"Henchhuman! We have the food!"

"…"

Deuce and Grim whisper as they watch you actively ignore Ace as his eyes bore holes into your soul. The most you talk is when you click at Grim, shooing him away with your fork. Even then, Ace is still looking at you, eyes stil focused as he talks to Deuce.

"Do you know what's happening in Crewel's class? I don't get anything that he's say…ing…? Ace? Are you even listening to me—?" Deuce sputters when Ace hits him with a cloth napkin, the former delinquent ready to throw a fist before you're holding onto his hand, pulling him back.

Ace centers his attention at the sight, staring straight at the point of contact. Awkwardly, Deuce lets go when he feels the weight of Ace's gaze, despite you doing things like this all the time.

"So… Are we gonna stay the night—"

"No." You both utter in unison, even Grim catching onto the weird vibe between the two of you. For the first time ever, Grim sets some food from his plate, sharing it with you.

Up until the moment the duo leaves, the tension doesn't disappear. Grim closes the door for you, turning around to finally ask that question.

"What was that about— Agh!" Grim yells when he feels your body weight fall onto him. Your eyes furrowed.

"… I told him I loved him…"

…

"Dude? What was that about?" Deuce's hand remains on Ace's shoulder, and the two of them stop right in front of the mirror chamber.

"… Something stupid," Ace mutters, wiping off the palm on his limb.

"Like what?"

"Like love..."

…

You steady your breathing as you sit up from the rose bush, the thorns pricking pins into your skin as wet red paint stains you. The tiny needles have you sucking in a breath, slowly emerging from the greenery. When you emerge, you're met with Riddle on the ground, the rest of Heartslaybul gathered around him.

When you step forward, a branch cracks under your foot. If you were in a horror movie you would be terrified, but you're not, so it's okay—

Why the hell is everyone staring?

The moment you take a couple of steps toward Riddle, everyone looks between you and Ace, moving back and forth, the latter's eyes looking you up and down as he steps forward, until he's a foot away from you. The moment he does, everyone bursts into a fit of laughter.

"Aww, look at that Acey?" Cater snaps pictures of the two of you, making sure you're both in frame for each one. "#Cuties!" he only serves the laugh more, your eyes looking at Ace as he avoids your gaze.

"Did you… Did you tell everyone what I said—?!" You move forward, your hands about to push on him, before he catches them. It's only then that you see the red on his face. A slight blush to otherwise pale skin.

"When you were gone, Acey got all worried. Kept looking for you and everything…" The more Cater speaks, the tighter Ace's grip on your fingers seems to be, and so does his avoidance of looking you in the eye. Trey steps in, smiling when he looks between the two of you. You flinch when Ace wraps his arms around you. The way he hugs you is way too stiff, and there seems to be two purposes for it. Relief in finding you and... covering himself.

"That's when he told everyone he was in love with you."

[ Boy, you can't conceal it, We know how you're feelin', Who you're thinkin' of ]

Leona Kingscholar thinks of you as the obnoxious bee in the botanical gardens who keeps buzzing around him despite swatting you away multiple times. He swears, why do you insist on hanging around him as much as possible… Don’t you have a school to pass?

“Do you plan on being in college for the rest of your life?” Leona's back is turned to you, your fingers poking his cheek as you look over his shoulder. You stop when the lion catches your wrist, peeking one eye open to gaze at you and your annoyance. 

“Do you plan on bothering me for the rest of your life?” he watches your eyes knit together in a moment's thought before an annoying smile places itself on your mouth. He lets go of your skin with a huff, his tail swaying back and forth as you continue to poke his rib. “Never mind, I shouldn’t have asked.” 

“Why should I stop? As far as I'm concerned, I'm the only one who can do this and not get murdered.” These words are what have him turning around and glaring, like those are the falsest words he’s ever heard… But are they really when he still lets you live after that? “See, I'm getting a glare right now, not a death sentence.” Even with your attempts to see how far you can push the prince, he sighs and turns over once more, his tail hitting you softly as it swings. “Do you treat me differently because you don’t like me?” 

“What…?” he doesn’t sound mad when he questions you; if anything, he’s genuinely confused about what could’ve brought this about. His unbothered exposition fails to express his puzzlement at your inquiry, however. 

“If someone makes you mad, you usually get even with them.” Leona’s eyes look into yours before you take that blessing from him and look into the sky. He savors the moments, watching the way the light hits your isies perfectly to allow the sun to show their true color. “I was just wondering, though.” 

“Do you want me to hate you?” Leona questions, your view of the clear sky is interrupted when a calloused hand places itself on your head and anchors you back down. “I…” … What does he mean? What is he going to say after that? 

There's no doubt in his mind. You're the most annoying herbivore in this school. One without magic, that he could easily overpower. The only reason you're not sanded down into the dirt is because… because… because…?

… It's fun watching you… struggle? Is that it?

“I mean, if I hate you, it’d only make sense if you did too.” You continue saying all this, as your finger moves up, once again on his cheek, but this time, you're even closer. You are practically lying down next to him, your elbow propping yourself up as you basically lean on the prince to annoy him.

“You hate me?” he asks, turning over to face you. Your eyes widen for a moment at the sudden proximity. You quickly scoot away, Leona's face scowling the moment you do. You curl your face at his reaction. Seriously… are you hideous to him or something?

“Not really. It was just a little joke.” You shrug, the grass tickling your face as you look at piercing green eyes that stare daggers into you. Is… is he thinking of you as his prey right now? You don't know it, but in a way, he is doing that. "Do you?" You watch as Leona makes a thinking motion, his tail hitting the floor as it sways.

"Yeah." Your expression drops the moment he says it, your body turning on its back. "You're the most annoying one of them all."

"… Am I really?" He hums in agreement. He waves his hand as a butterfly flies past, the colorful insect landing on your nose. You seem to take no notice of it, however, too intent on staring through the botanical gardens' glass ceiling. The sun on your side gets blocked by the beastmen, his elbow propping his head up as he looks at the way you close your eyes immediately.

"You upset about that?" His voice comes out disinterested, but his eyes seem to hold the most interest you've ever seen in them.

"Tell me more."

"… What?" His scarred eyes lift his brow, looking at you with the most confused of looks.

"Tell me more about how much you hate me." He thinks for a moment, plopping down on the grass to look at your side profile. Now it's his turn to stare at you.

"You're too good for the school. Being magic-less has you being the most useless student cuz of how easily you can be thrown around." Your nose stings a little. You can hear Leona's tail audibly hit the dirt. "You care too much about the people around you, and it's annoyin'. I can smell your scent everywhere I go. Every place I walk, you're sitting there like like a cub." You sniff once as you can feel Leona's stare bore even harsher through your body. "Every damn time I let you follow me." You hear his hand land next to your head. "Sometimes I even follow you around." You're about to sit up before Leona's arm drapes around you, tight and clingy, like he doesn't intend to let you go until he's done spilling his mind. "You annoy me every single day, cause even if you're not there, you're there."

You slowly turn your head towards Leona, his eyes glaring at you through his hair.

"I'm… sorry…?" A moment passes, one where he just looks at you for what seems like an eternity. You can hear him take a deep breath, his tail swaying even faster when he does.

"You're sorry once you stop being annoyin'." He sits up, the warmth of his arm over you disappearing along with it. You watch him stand to his full height, scratching the top of his head. Before he can take the first step, you call out to him, and he stops faster than if he were walking.

"Leona?"

"… Mm."

"I'll stop annoying you," you mutter out, Leona's ears twitching when you say it.

"… Yeah. Do that." He takes one step forward before stopping.

"But," you mutter out, spacing your next words incredibly longer. "I think… I love you."

"…" He walks away.

…

The moment Leona's eyes open after his overblot, after the information tidbit, he's quick to shove everyone to the side, sharp eyes staring across Savanaclaws stadium for even the slight sight of you. His nose doesn't even catch a whiff of you in the air, the familiar sweet scent that he's addicted to burying his nose into whenever you're in his vicinity. He still remembers the way he scowled when it hit his nostrils, your lips shifting into a mocking smile as you laugh, shoving your sleeve into his face. Behind your hand, he'd smile at the scent, quickly returning to a frown when you remove the cloth.

Where… Where are you?

When Leona wanders away, something completely out of character for him, everyone who yells his name only looks at each other, just hoping he'll show up for laters game.

…

At the game's end, Leona locks the infirmary doors with his magic, hearing the determined knocking of your friends at the door, all three of them calling your name.

Despite Leona's face being only a few inches away from yours, you do everything in your power to ignore him. Even going as far as separating him with your sleeve, putting the cloth to his face to push him away. You tense when you feel his hand take hold of your wrist, keeping your uniform on his face. It's only when you see him close his eyes and inhale, that you realize.

"Leona…? What are you—?" When he removes it, you can tell the next words he spits out are something you never expect to hear from his mouth.

"I love you, too."

Other characters who could be featured (Don't worry, I'll make a master list of this (⸝⸝⸝-﹏-⸝⸝⸝))

Twst - Azul Ashengrotto, Jade Leech, Floyd Leech, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit, Rook Hunt, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia, Sebek Zigvolt, Rollo Flamme, Skully J. Graves

HSR - Blade, Sunday, Phainon, Mydei, Anaxa, Dan Heng, Aventurine, Dr.Ratio, Boothill, Jingyuan

Genshin: Scaramouche, Childe, Wriosthesley, Neuvillete, Alhaitham, Itto, Kazuha, Albedo

Like I said, updating will be pretty spontaneous, so don't expect an order, just expect one of these guys to have something written for them!!

In retrospect, you should be grateful for that. He gives you space (though this space is never peaceful, as each passing moment has you wondering who suffers his bloody hands in his frustration), he allows time for outings (which are almost always with him), and even lets you have the freedom of hobbies to occupy yourself. What’s so wrong with loving him? You’re sure that if you could go back to loving him like normal, he would return to giving you back your autonomy!

… 

It’s a possibility. One that’s impossible to achieve. You could always pretend his obsession doesn’t scare you. However, the reality is you can’t. He’ll always catch on. 

The bath is big, and so it allows you free range to splash around in frustration. You don’t voice your fears, as that’s much too dangerous, but you do grunt in frustration whenever you think.

Your thoughts completely cut you off from your surroundings, failing to notice the sculpted figure that walks his way through the hot water, his golden pupils eyeing you down. 

Oh, it’s horrible. What is he going to do? Does he plan to cut you off from the outside? Will he leave you to have no stimulation but his company to entertain you? What is he going to—?!

You scream at the sound of water splashing behind you, a low, gruff sounding at the feeling of hot water taking him in. 

You slowly turn your head, already knowing who it is, but you still do it. Maybe in some miracle, it’s just a trick of the mind, and this Mydei is just an illusion, a cruel play to make you freak out. You’re quickly disproven when he tilts your head at his sudden appearance. 

There’s no doubt this is Mydeimos. 

“Ah— You’re back early.” 

“I am. It wasn’t meant to be a task that took years to complete.” You mentally slap yourself. He’ll notice something's off if you don’t keep the usual persona up. 

“Ah, I see… I would’ve been lonely without your company,” you say softly. You appeal to his emotions with your current attitude, acting like you once did before. He’s always been the type to appreciate softer moments between you two, shedding the invisible weight of a warrior off his shoulders and embracing the tenderness of love. He was always sweet to you and stern with others, addressing them in a voice you only ever hear when he’s talking to soldiers. It set your heart ablaze knowing that you had that effect on him. But no more, you understand the dangers of letting love fester in the Strife’s heart. 

You’ll keep playing the part of an adoring lover. You’ll keep performing until this war ends, and you can strike a victory against your former flame. 

“Would you really?” his voice is still low, yet you can hear a smile through his words. You look down at the water, paying with the liquid under its surface. “I’ll make sure to come back to you sooner.” Please don’t. 

“That would be nice, Mydei.” You smile once at him before turning your back, looking throughout the bath’s interior. It’s grand, nothing like your own home. Yet, it’s the bathtub that you wish to bathe in, not this extravagance. This life Mydei has given you would’ve been extraordinary to live, if he had only given you a choice in that matter—

You flinch at the feeling of rough hands washing your bare back. You’re about to turn around, before Mydei stops you. His free hand, not rubbing your back of impurities, is busy massaging your shoulder. In his desire to be your sole caretaker, sometimes you forget, through all the home-cooked meals, beautiful clothes, and tender, intimate, loving moments, he is a warrior. 

“Tell me, were you eating good while I was gone?” he questions. It’s typical for him to always ask, and these inquiries increase in specificity while he is gone. You take care in being vague, but not enough that he catches on. You can’t lie though, he will see right through you. He knows too much about you in comparison to your knowledge about him. 

“Well… Not to be rude to the staff... Your personal cooking far outweighs theirs.” He continues washing you. There are brief moments when you can feel his hand trace lines in your skin. 

“I’m glad you enjoy it. I’ll make sure to return to your meals.” You nod in reply, allowing calloused hands that no longer wear gold gauntlets to keep tending to your back. “Did you sleep well?” 

“The bed was cold. Not very comforting.” You don’t see it, but you have a feeling your words have him frowning behind you. 

“I’ll return  soon.” Reassurance that comes out more like a threat in your mind. If others were watching, you’re sure they would be shocked at the affection this prince shows you. 

… You think you really hate the domesticity he treats you with. Yes, you may be indirectly instigating it by playing into his whims, but the truth is that he’s the one deluding himself into believing you’re safe with him. He thinks you’re happy just because you’re safe? He removes the washcloth from your back, his fingers signaling you to turn and look at him. “What did you do while I was gone?”

The long-awaited question. Maybe it’s just your mind deciding it wishes to mess you up, but there’s a squint to him, accompanied by the cold demeanor of a warrior. 

You think. A minute too long, you suppose. 

“I mostly read, perhaps an occasional walk to the kitchen.” You look at the water before letting your eyes trail up Mydei’s body. His eyes are the complete opposite of yours, golden pupils searing themself into your person while you do everything you can to not look at him. The last thing you need right now is eye contact while you lie to him. You put on a fake smile as you point your finger. “Why? Should I have been thinking about how much I miss Mydeimos instead?” The tip of your digit pokes his rib, earning a gruff grunt from his lips. 

 His domineering attitude would scare anyone away, yet in this moment, you’re the sole existence to jab him in the side and succeed. Maybe there’s a true weak point to him you can go at. 

… You’re deluding yourself, you already know exactly where it is. You just don’t have the courage to try it. 

“There would be no need. I will always return to you.”

“Oh wow, someone’s feeling romantic.” Your words earn yet another grunt. He’s very much putting up the front of not being tender. He always lets a facade like that slip through, though. Especially when it comes to you. 

“... I am not—” He’s cut off when he feels your upper half fall onto him, your arm wrapped around his neck while your head rests on his shoulders. He warms at the proximity, your chest pressed to his, your slick skin due to the water, all invading his mind. The act, from an outside perspective, would truly show the bond between lovers. They would have no clue, you were only doing it to cover your face, to not give Mydei even a clue of what you’ve done. Afterall,

Who tries escaping from their lover?

You smile at the possible chance of escaping consequence, pulling yourself even closer to Mydei than you were before. You allow him to let his hands wander, finding your waist, shifting to your hips, before tracing dangerously close to your inner thigh, rubbing circles close to your heat. 

You lean back up to look into his golden irises. It's been a few moments, so you’re sure you’ve gotten away with it, considering he’s been too busy memorizing your body to ask anymore questions. You take the chance to ask for an outing with him. It's been a while since you’ve felt the breeze by and the sun kiss your skin. 

“Mydei—” You stop your request when his calloused hands roughly take hold of your arm, lifting it to his face. 

“What is this?” His voice holds the familiarity of his warrior persona, stern and scary. For a second, you’re hesitant to turn your head, horrified at what you might see. Nonetheless, you do, as Mydei’s eyes staring you down, practically forcing your hand. You see a giant purple bruise on your bicep… One you had no idea was there in the first place. Before you can answer him, he lifts your arm out of the way to grab your thigh, pulling it to wrap around his waist. Despite the suggestive positioning, he seems too mad to focus on that. His free hand points to the stitches on your skin, the thread used matching your skin as closely as it possibly could. “And this?” You stutter, thinking of what to say. “Well?” 

… You’re so stupid to have forgotten all about those… You were too focused on his appearance to remember the obvious hints of escape on your appearance. Looking back at the fabricated story you had conjured up for the stitch, while he was gone, you put it on your tongue, adding a story for the bruise on top of it. You want to lie, it’s the only thing that can save you. 

Yet nothing comes out. 

You look up, hoping for the tenderness he usually displays for you, acknowledging that won’t be there, but pure rage. When you turn to stare at him, you’re met with neither, just a pure mess of… Disappointment. 

“I was hoping you would tell me about what happened on your own,” he moves you around so your back is leaning against the bathtub’s tilted framing, “What happened?” his voice is softer than before, though it’s obvious he’s making sure he doesn’t scare you off with his earlier tone. His eyes furrow with his next question, agitated not at you, but the possible mystery perpetrator. “Did someone do this?” 

“... No—No!” You’re quick to dismiss his thoughts in the fear of an innocent being dragged into your mistake. “No one did this to me.” 

… If only you had succeeded. 

“Then what?” You remain quiet at his inquiry. At this point, you accept your error, allowing him to piece the truth together with your silence. You can tell he’s finally realized the truth with the way his hands tighten their grip around your hips. “... I see.” You fully expect him to treat you like a soldier on the opposing side of war. He’s mad, he most definitely is, you can tell, you know the signs of rage. Maybe he’ll put you in chains, lock you up in a cage within his bedchambers, or even simply destroy you for daring to leave him. You don’t want any of that. 

You can feel tears beginning to form at your waterline, not out of apology but out of fear. “Mydeimos—Mydei—! I’m sorry…! I’m so sorry—!” Your cries are cut off by the feeling of lips on your mouth, moving in away that swallows all your breath. It’s only when you try pulling away—even though his lips follow yours—that you inhale. Panting, you look back up at him, “What are you—?” You yelp when he pulls your hips flush against his, once again diving in to claim your lips. When you separate, Mydei exhales on your skin, his hands holding your waist in place. 

“Why did you…?” He doesn’t fully voice the question, but you know what he’s trying to ask you. ‘Why would you want to leave?’ 

You think, maybe if you hadn’t indulged him in being happy, he would’ve realized much sooner how much you hated all of it. He gave you freedom, but never enough to live. Then again… It’s not your fault. You wouldn’t have anything to complain about if he had just—stayed normal!

“Forgive me.” He leans back up, straightening his back as he looks at you. His appearance once again returns to being the handsome prince he’s always been, gazing at you from where he sits. There’s space between you both once again. To be honest, you prefer him practically engulfing your personal space instead. At least then you can’t see his blank face. “I know.” … His words have you pause. 

“You… What?” 

“I’ve always known. It’s my fault for not giving you more freedom. I will—” You don’t hear the rest of his words. You understand the general statement, though, claiming he will allow you more space in his care, fewer guards, and more alone time. But you couldn't care less, you should, but you don’t. Why? 

Has Mydei known this whole time you’ve been acting? That you’ve—?! He knows how horrible this is—?

You stop him mid-sentence by pulling him in by his hair. The ferocity you did it reminds him of a warrior, and it has his body prepared on reflex for battle. Then he looks at your face, and he’s quick to relax again, even if the face he loves so much is dripping in frustration. “You’ve known…? You know just how fucked this is—?!” 

“ I’ve always known.” 

“So you just let me embarrass myself like that, Mydei?” The water that drips from the faucet earlier continues to sound. Right now, you prefer watching that over whatever is happening in the moment. “Do you really love me, or do you just like having a pet?!” The accusation of not loving you is seemingly the only question that has him break calm, as he’s immediately furrowing his brow. His hand snakes up to your fingers with hair. 

“Of course I do!” His voice has now overpowered yours in this shouting contest, echoing through the room. You take advantage of his body’s weakness for you, shoving him into the water in his vulnerability. If it were anyone else, he would stay standing. He decides in the moment to let you enact your revenge. He blinks through the water as he looks up at you, bare body, emotion, and all. Even in his rage, all he can think about is how much he wants you. “All of this is because I—!”

“... Then let me go, Mydei…!” Those three words have him stiffen, his shoulder tensing as he watches you walk away through the large bath’s water. Ripples trail after you, mocking him. 

… 

You yelp at the feeling of built arms encasing you, successfully stopping your path. You whisper his name, but he’s already pulling you close to him, his face burrowed into your shoulder. You don’t dare to thrash, in fear that this is the silence before the war. Instead, your hands move to his arms, gently grasping his skin despite his strong hold on you. 

“... Mydei…?” 

He doesn’t say anything, but you can hear a ghost of his words. Please let me protect you. He doesn’t say it. Nevertheless, the sheer strength he holds you at tells you all. 

“...” 

The former flame of what once was, or maybe the reminder that the man behind you is a skilled warrior, keeps you in place. A moment passes where you two melt together, the heat from the ever-flowing bath only worsening this vulnerable effect. He seems to test the waters, trailing a single kiss from your shoulder, two at your neck, and three at your jaw, until he waits for you to look at him. It takes a little while before you turn your neck to face him. His golden irises stare at yours, waiting for approval. 

If his willingness to wait proves how safe you are with him, he’ll do it. Anything for you to know just how much he cares. You both are in a heated staring contest in your moment of decision-making. You’re head snakes behind his head. 

You’ve already lost when you pulled him back into you. 

You gasp at Mydei’s sudden eagerness, both of you dropping into the water, splashing it around. His canines are working tirelessly to mark you up, as his hands wander endlessly on your body, both soft and gluttonous at the same time. You yelp out his name when he bites, the Prince taking his opportunity to slot his tongue into your unguarded lips. 

A part of your mind whispers to you how wrong this is, how wrong he is, but your body gives in. Though you don’t think it’s a bad thing. Mydei’s overbearingness for your stay will be at an all-time high, yes, but… 

It gives you time to truly plan your escape. You smile at the thought, and Mydei drags you onto his lap. Truthfully, you have no idea whether or not he knows what you’re thinking, but it doesn’t matter, as he might be too preoccupied with you to think about it. 

He kisses you. You play with his hair. 

You sink into the water, maybe you’ll drown. 

“Ah, don’t linger there too long.” Or maybe your attempt will be stopped by your unwanted visitor. You emerge back up from the water, Sunday smiling, when he sees your face again. His naked fingers take hold of your arm, tracing swirls into your skin. He’s so gentle it tickles, but you stay still. 

“Are you such a control freak, you have to control the way I take baths, too?” This statement is further proven by the way he sits at the side of the bathtub, holding all of your products at his side. Every attempt to grab your shampoo is swiftly rejected when Sunday swipes it away, favoring his own hands to be the one who cleanses you. Every bath has him bare of his gloves, a very rare occurrence, except when it comes to you. At every chance of intimacy, he peels away his gloves with a certain chivalry, allowing his bare skin to graze yours. 

“The purpose of a bath is to cleanse yourself of filth, of dirt.” He squeezes the bottle of shampoo into his palm, his free hand signaling you to come closer with his index finger. You glare at him from the other side of the tub, begrudgingly shifting towards him. You know he wouldn’t ask you a second time. “I am just making sure you are fully deterged from the day's daily pollution.” Your back is turned to him, shivering at the feeling of Sunday’s lithe fingers massaging the shampoo into your hair. “Is it so wrong to be perceptive on such things?”

“To your level of degree? At that point, it’s obsessive.” His right-hand trails down from your scalp, leaving a train of bubbles on your skin. He waits until his fingers rest on your chest to begin tapping. You don’t know how, but you can feel each tap of his digit is perfectly aligned with your heartbeat. You think he’s just consumed every piece of you so intently, he’s memorized parts of you, you don’t even know. “Do you have any hobbies that don’t include me?” 

“Watch that tone.” His voice still has a certain tenderness, yet there’s an underlying firm tone that invades his facade. 

“Watch your hands.” For a moment, the only sound that is heard through the room is the occasional bubble pop in the shell-shaped bathtub. With a sigh, he removes his hands from your person, pouring water over your head. There’s still leftover soap in your hair, but the way you look back at him with dripping locks… He would think it to be cute—if you weren’t so hellbent on torturing his heart. 

“You… You’re so tempting.” He stands up to his full height outside of the bath, earning a turn from you. The bubbles fail to cover your decency—something Sunday should most definitely reprimand you for. But he thinks you might be purposely attempting to rile him up. He doesn’t think he should allow you that pleasure. “It’s a shame you can’t—” 

“Be your perfect lover again?” You lift yourself from sitting down, leaning over the frame. Water drips from your body onto the floor, a puddling mess of water grouping onto the tiles. He should scold you… He really should—goodness, you look beautiful. “Pray tell, how will you rekindle our flame, hm? Won’t you tell me, Mister Sunday?” He can hear the obvious sarcasm that drips from your throat, essentially mocking him. He takes a step forward, towering over your kneeling form. 

“Again? You have never been imperfect—” He thinks you’re attempting to disprove him, though, with the way you continuously splash water onto his once dry flooring. “... You’ve never been. Though… you vex me quite often.” 

“That means I’m not your perfect birdy, right?” You sink back onto the backs of your calves, resting your head on your arms as you gaze at him through your lashes.  “Can’t you let me go then?” 

…

Those three words— ‘Let me go’ strike a chord in him. He sighs once more before taking his thumb to your cheek, gently lifting you up to stare at him from below. From an outsider perspective. It would be as if you were worshipping his very existence, his deep, exalting love for you. Alas, you’re instead praying for the moment his grace leaves you alone, untouched by this obsession of his. 

“I see your struggles.” Does he really? “Please, you must let me help you.” His tone is soft, sickenly dripping with affection for you. His finger traces your bottom lip, smiling softly. “I know just how to do so.” His face is inches from yours. “You’ll tell me how much you wish for my help, yes? Truthfully?” At this point, it feels like he’s talking to himself, yet you nod. “Please, tell me—” he jumps when you suddenly pull him down by his collar. Water splashes even more, and bigger puddles of bath and bubbles form on the floor. By the time he’s over the shock, his mouth is agape as soft pants leave him. It takes a moment for him to look at you, his hair wet alongside his dripping ears. 

Despite his glare at the new mess you’ve made, you look away, acting entirely innocent. There’s no doubt you’ll be in for a lecture on proprietary later, but you take in a feeling of victory at the newly drenched man in front of you. 

“Mess… What a mess.” You can hear the obvious frustration in his voice. His eyes move from puddle to puddle, as well as the splashes of water on the walls. “You truly are a handful,” he strains. His fist clenches below the water, and yet he’s still so incredibly soft with you. Even if that soothing tone is just a facade. 

But… You’ll do anything to save yourself from his ‘help’. His grueling mindset of doing whatever he must do to keep you safe is essentially what should’ve ended your relationship. Yet, here you are, still stuck with his attempts to keep you out of harm's way. If he refuses freedom for the act of having you in his arms, then you will be a handful. He has no choice but to deal with you. 

“You…” His voice no longer holds exasperation after he exhales. “I will get changed. Please do wait. I will be back to clean—” He pauses when he feels your hands on his shoulders. 

“No. Please stay.” Your voice is soft, and with the way he stiffens, you know you’re doing it right. “I don’t—I can’t be alone.” You lean in, resting your forehead on his chest, “What if…” You don’t finish the sentence, leaving a mystery behind what it could’ve been. Though the possibilities certainly entice. 

What if… I get hurt? You get hurt? I die? You die? What if… I miss you?

All variants induce the need for him. You know him perfectly well enough to know his wish to bring peace, order, and harmony to life, even if some sacrifice must be made for it. You also know him well enough, though, to know he understands perfectly what it is you’re doing. Chances are, though, he’s just desperate for a return of what once was between you two. The question is, will he let control slip from his hands?

His hands grab your wrists, taking a moment to familiarize himself with your touch before he takes to dragging you closer. You think it’s awkward to be the only one naked in the bath, and Sunday surely notices. His bare fingers drag your hand to his clothes, allowing you to strip him bare too. 

Now you have your answer. And the answer is no. 

With each layer shrugged, he guides you to the next one, before he’s exposed. You have no doubt he’s wincing at the sight of wet clothes haphazardly thrown to the side, but you successfully distract him with the way you ghost your fingers over his cheek. 

Even if it’s not true, even if it’s only pretend—You would like to be the one in control for once. 

Sunday’s hands find your waist, dragging you closer to him. You should really care more, considering nothing is covering your dignity’s, but you allow the proximity. 

“There is no worry.” His right hand strokes your back, “I will not let anyone harm you.” With the way his eyes trace over your body before looking back into your eyes, you can infer what he’s trying to say to you inverbally. 

I will not let anyone else see you.

“And what if you’re a liar, hm?” You tilt your head, your arm resting on his shoulder. “You’ve never been the type to tell me everything.” 

“I have never lied to you.” You think that’s a lie.  “I could never. I can’t lie, not to you.”… Maybe not a lie per se, but avoiding the truth. “You do know that, yes?” The way he asks feels as if he’s searching for your approval. 

“... Yes.” You don’t sound very convincing. You can tell he can see that, as the frown on his lips tells all. You stiffen when he places a kiss on your collarbone, loving and careful. He’s about to place one in the middle of your chest before your hand stops him, tilting his chin to look at you. “You do realize it’s hard to believe you when this whole time, I have always been 10 meters near you.” This time, it’s your turn to reprimand him. “I have always been near you. We have never been apart, Sunday.”

“That should tell you just how truthful I am towards you.” his hands are now back on your waist, firmer than they once were. “I have borne all of myself to you. In public, in private, in our home, in our bed,” he pauses when your hands remove themselves from his shoulders, “... In this very bath.” His tone… It’s still soft, but it no longer has an underlying tone of anger or disappointment. It is entirely full of desperation. “I will show you however much of me you need, if it means I can see you safe, if it means we will be safe.” You continue to stare blankly at him, earning a flat smile from his lips at your drifting attention. 

He regains your focus when his hand pulls you in by the back of your neck, connecting your lips in a gentle yet ravenous exchange. It seems to go on forever, with Sunday only remembering breathing is a thing when you tap his chest. A thin trail of saliva connects you two. “... You are too tempting for me, for the world.” Through his pants, his fingers grab your hips, dragging you even closer than you already were to him. You can feel his desire below you, but you don't say anything. “... It’s why you must stay here.” 

“But I don’t—” 

“Please.” You quiet down at his behest. “I have shown you all of me. Even parts that are too ugly for someone of virtue,” he pauses, his thumb tracing your bottom lip, “Believe me. I only want the best for you.” 

…

Is this what’s best for you? Is he really what’s best for you? You don’t think so.

But you nod anyway. 

“... Good.” he tucks a strand of his hair back. “You will… You will be honest with me, too, yes?” You shift in his lap, earning an exhale from him. “You’ll tell me how safe you feel with me, yes? How loved? How perfect we are? How I am protecting you just right?” You’re silent to his questions. He’s about to inquire again before you stop him, bury your lips roughly into his, nothing like the way he kissed you. It’s rough, devoid of hunger. It’s filled with rage. And all you do is pull him as close as possible, until you can taste order on his tongue. He pulls away before speaking. It sounds nothing like his previous questions, however. 

He sounds as if you two are in a confessional. 

“Do you vow to change your ways? Do you sincerely wish to repent?” Despite his words, he looks at you as if you’re everything the world has to offer. 

For a moment, you think about denying him. ‘I hate you’ instead. You think about being the one in control. It’s why you did all this in the first place. And yet, the moment you have to finally reclaim your autonomy, you can’t. 

 “... Yes.”

He smiles before giving in to his want for you, his lips finding their place on your own. 

You stack poker chips on top of each other, before flicking them to a tumble with a sigh. A few seconds pass after the towers fall, before you finally decide to look at the man in front of you. He’s smiling as sigonian eyes stare down at you. His delight has you rolling your eyes at him, but all it does is earn a chuckle from him. 

“With that look, it’s almost like you don’t want me here.” 

“You’re right, I don’t. Go away, Aventurine.” You shoo him away with your free hand, but it doesn’t deter him in the least. Despite his very obvious presence, he takes no action in moving forward, staying on his side of the bath. Though it’s small enough that your legs have to overlap his. You’re left to curl your knees into your body while he takes up most of the space. He tilts his head, still smiling at you. In response, you roll your eyes, flicking one of his chips his way. He easily catches it. 

“I need to be clean too. You don’t wanna go out with your boyfriend looking like a bum, yeah?” He can already sense your next words, ‘Not my boyfriend’, but before you can voice them, he finally breaks the imaginary wall between you two, swiftly leaning in. You’re shushed by the feeling of the poker chip against your lips, cold as you watch Aventurine next to you. “Mm, on second thought, maybe you’d like that.” He laughs before you can retort. Without warning, he falls on top of you, and you fail to stop him from using you as a pillow. 

His blonde hair is still dry, tickling your skin. It flattens when he rests his head against your naked chest, his ear against your bare heart. His arms are wrapped around your waist, serving as an anchor to your body. “Aventurine…” He hums at his name, the vibration reaching your core and sending shivers up your spine. 

“I was gambling on this, you know.” One of his hands unlocks, reaching for yours, and making you bury your fingers into his scalp. “It was either this or getting hit before I had the chance.” You tut at his words. “Glad to see I won.” You would pinch him if it weren’t for the fact that he was wrapping around you like a vice. 

A small, distant part of you feels pity knowing why. He does it in fear that you’ll disappear like all those before you. Back then, you would’ve gladly allowed him to consume your being if it meant he could be free from such shackles, but now, you’d rather be in chains than be his anchor. Out of instinct, your hand plays with his hair, earning his approval as he removes his fingers from yours, replacing them with the skin of your hip. 

“Are you ever satisfied?” 

“If satisfaction were common, I don’t think gambling would exist.” You pause, leaning your head to get a better view of the man on your chest

“... I don’t feel like it today,” he smiles at your annoyance. “Can you be direct, please?” Your finger twines his blonde strands, waiting for his reply. He acts similarly to a cat with the way you massage your head. Back then, you would’ve found it endearing, but now, you just roll your eyes. 

“How could I ever be satisfied with you around?” He plants his arms on each side of you, lifting himself to be eye to eye. “I just want more and more.” His hand finds itself on your waist, and despite the domineering atmosphere, he soothingly massages your skin. “Does that make more sense?” 

“... Sure.” You think it would, if he didn’t stare at you with those eyes. Even in the throes of hate, he still manages to enrapture you with his pupils, an effect he’s always had on you. A moment passes, and he buries himself in your chest once more. He breaks the silence, fully aware that you didn’t actually understand his meaning. 

“It doesn’t matter how big the pot. It’s the risk.” You can feel him smile into your skin. Silently, you scoop water into your palm, pouring it over Aventurine’s blonde strands. He holds you closer in return, as if the water will wake him up from a dream. One he never wishes to wake from. 

“So, I don’t really matter. You just like the chase, right?” He still has the same smile when he looks back up. He can tell what you’re trying to do. Though you should know by now, it’s not that easy to convince him he doesn’t love you anymore. 

Because he does. Oh, he so very does. 

“Well, what’s the point in the chase if the reward doesn’t match?” He yelps when you pinch his waist. After a few blinks, though, he’s back to himself. “You could’ve done something else if you wanted me to—” 

“Quit making gambling an analogy for us right now.” He laughs at the way your eyebrows furrow at him. It reminds him of your nagging in the past. It’s a welcome sight. “If you continue, I’m dunking your head under the water until you drown.” A bluff, really. He knows you too well. He knows you so well that he fully understands you want to, but you can’t. 

“Well, should we make a bet?” 

“Again?” You bit your lip, a sight that makes him think, maybe he really can be satisfied. If he has you, he doesn’t think he needs much of anything else. “... Seriously, you and gambling…” You whisper. With a sigh, you lean back into the top, your bare back making contact with cold porcelain. “Last time we did that—” 

“We had fun.” You hate his voice. You can hear in his tone alone just how much he loves ruining you. 

“You had fun.” 

“You’re the one who won. It was your reward.” You choke at the reminder, having completely forgotten that it indeed was you who explicitly asked for pleasure… from him. How could you forget… He was having too much fun playing with you.

“... I needed stimulus,” you whisper. You hoped it would be quiet enough for him not to hear, but the way he smirks tells you he unfortunately did. 

“Is that your return? Again? I don’t mind—” 

“No, no, no.” You swiftly shush him by placing your finger on his lips. He watches you think for a moment, and the way your eyes light up tells him he’s not going to like it. “You have to let me go out by myself, without you.” 

“... I already let you do that?” It’s your turn to smile and lean in. He watches you with his ringed eyes, your head inching closer, placing your head on his shoulder. 

“Without you stalking me.” He’s quiet. “Without someone from the IPC babysitting me.” He continues to be silent. “I want to be free from you. Whenever I want. The moment I come back is when you can have me.” Truthfully, with his silence, you don’t expect him to accept. And… You don’t think he will. Not with that look in his eyes. When he opens his mouth, you’re quick to sit up straight, ready to change your reward before he locks you in his bedroom. “Okay, no, how about—” 

“Sure. If that’s what you really want,” he watches in amusement, his eyes crinkling at the way yours light up. “Wow, that look.” His thumbs reach up to the corner of your mouth, upturning your lips in a crude smile.  “I’m not that cruel,” he tutts, releasing his hold on your face to wag his finger. “Though you always look good, so I don’t mind.” He laughs when you splash him with water, turning your head to glare at the floor instead. “Well, don’t look away.” his naked hand snakes up to your face, gently turning you to face him once more. 

“... What’s your return?” you whisper. It’s silent. The only sounds you hear are the occasional ripples of water as you both move. “Aventurine…?” Even with the call of his name, something that has never failed to get his attention, he doesn’t answer, his eyes absentmindedly trailing over your body. Despite how perverted the action itself is, it doesn’t feel at all invasive. It’s as if he were looking at a piece of art, rather than his exposed “lover”. 

He’s thinking way too into his reward, you’re starting to grow worried about what he could possibly ask you. There’s a glint in his eyes when they trace over your chest. You watch hesitantly as his hand reaches from the water, his palm lying flat against your heart. 

A moment passes before he removes it. He exchanges his fingers for his ear. He hums when he hears the rhythm of your heartbeat, his index drumming along its pattern. The second call of his name has him hum. The third has him finally sit back up. You don’t have a chance for a fourth call. 

“You have to give me your heart.” 

… 

“Do you wanna…  kill me…?” He chokes in humor at your assumption. Your face tells him you’re not entirely convinced of the idea, suspecting there’s more. He finally removes himself from your proximity, leaning on the other side of the tub. His ringed pupils watch you from the other side, engaged in a makeshift staring contest. With a clap of his hands, a coin appears from the sky, his skilled fingers easily catching it before it can splash into the water. He takes notice of the way your eyes watch his digits maneuver. 

“It’s simple. Heads, or tails?” 

“Wha— You always win this…!” He stays leaning into the porcelain, watching you under his nose. This time, it’s you invading his personal space, inspecting the coin like it’s your last lifeline. Not that he minds, of course, his liking towards it is even expressed with the way his hand finds your waist. You flip the coin, you rub it, you even attempt to see if it’s glued to another. But alas, it’s simply a regular coin. “How…?” 

“Who knows?” The hand on your waist finds your wrist, bringing it to his lips. He doesn’t kiss your skin like usual, only allowing his lips to ghost over you. You have a feeling he’s waiting until he wins. “Well then, heads or tails?” 

You think for a moment, and you decide. You’ve always picked the same side. Maybe that’s why you lose so often. Even then, though, it should always be a 50/50 chance. 

He gives you the honor of flipping the coin. You watch with bated breath as it spins in the air. With one swift movement, you swipe the coin. 

It’s your side. 

You don’t have the chance to celebrate before Aventurine descends upon you, the contact between your lips separated by a mere coin. If you weren’t thinking straight, you’d believe it to be a ploy of some kind. But the way his eyes stare at you tells that he’s waiting for some realization to strike. Hesitantly, your eyes trail down to the coin. It is indeed the side you always go by. But, for once, only for once, you chose the side Aventurine always has. 

You lost. 

Your failure only seems worse with the way his eyes lack the typical satisfaction they have when he’s won. He feels pity for you. That’s the last thing you want. 

“... Well? What does ‘giving you my heart’ entail?” You swiftly move on from the subject of your loss, ready to hear what it is he wants. But you don’t hear anything. Shame has you staring at the floor tiling outside of the tub, unaware of the beast that leans forward. You freeze at the feeling of his lips on your neck, your hands reflexively finding themself on his shoulders. It gives him an excuse to deepen his mark, as well as his hold on your waist. “Is this… Ngh… It? Isn’t anything different than before—” you're cut off by his lips swallowing your words. It’s only then that you realize what he meant. 

His kisses are softer than they were before, a new level of tenderness you haven’t felt from him in a long time. Or, more so, a tenderness you haven’t let him express in a long time. He smiles when you whimper for air. Despite the lovesick smile on his face, you know there’s something much more sinister beneath it. 

“I want to be your everything.” Through your pants, you don’t even have the chance to mutter a hushed ‘what?’ before he’s burying his lips in yours again. It is so sickenly sweet, you feel like there’s a dull taste of sugar in your mouth. “I don’t want you looking at anyone else with your eyes again.” His free hand brings your leg up to his waist, holding it there as he grows closer to your body. “Not with those eyes.” By now, he’s practically melting into your body, one hand playing with your bare chest, and the other rubbing circles into your leg with its thumb. 

“Aventuri- Ahh… W-What eyes…?” You pant when he disconnects from your lips, a thin trail of saliva. He watches it as if it’s the red string that intertwines soulmates. He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes trained on your lips before moving to your irises. Your gaze is half lidded as you stare at him. 

“Those.” His hand finds yours, almost as if he’s asking. A moment passes before you’re holding his palm in yours, and allowing his digits to lead down between you. He takes the invitation lovingly. “I want that look to be all for me.” 

He places a kiss on the corner of your lip. 

“I want all of your feelings,” he says, watching as your eyes scrunch up, “all for me.” The water sways back and forth. “I’ll bet it all, just for you.” His forehead rests on your own. “Do the same for me, too.” 

Maybe you should’ve stuck with your side of the coin. 

Cw: Failed Suicide attempt

“… Do you plan on watching me bathe, Blade?” Your eyes glare at the man sitting near the bathroom wall, crimson eyes staring deep into the water. Luckily for you, the bubbles that float on top of its surface cover your dignity. It might not count, considering he’s seen your bare body multiple times. 

He hums in acknowledgment, but says nothing more. It’s a hint that he’s not agreeing, but also not disagreeing. You’re about to submerge your head in the warm water, before the familiar stench of iron invades the heavenly scent of your bathroom. 

He seems extra focused on engraving the sight of you into his retina. You look at him for a few seconds, waiting for your eyes to lock. The moment they do, you keep that connection. You don’t stare at the water, only hearing the bubbles pop with each passing moment. Unblinking, you splash water in his face, but he's undeterred. His crimson eyes continue to bore into your soul. 

"You blinked." 

"Or maybe you're just a perv who gets his rocks off at the sight of me naked."

"I'm not a pervert."

"But you didn't deny that second part. Weirdo..." It isn't until you register his words do you realize you lost. He already knows what happens when you lose. It's never been something he required from you, only a mentality you've curated in your head. Nonetheless, you live up to your word. 

He waits patiently for what you've decided in your brain. He never decides the award he receives when he wins; only you ever do. 

"I don't like how you smell." Your finger lifts from the water, your index signaling his long-awaited award. You tell him to come over, his tall frame taking only a few steps before bending down to hear you out. You smile before making your move, lowering your voice to a whisper as you lean close into his ear, "Take a bath with me?" 

You can hear his breathing stop, a capability all those who have fallen at his hands wish they could’ve done. His adam's apple bobs as he looks back at you, hiding your lips behind your palm as you smile. 

He says no more, quickly undoing each complicated button and clip on his clothes. His body is built, each scar impeccably placed on him. Which, they shouldn’t be as they’re scars, but somehow each one is put somewhere that enhances his looks. If he weren’t so scary, you’re pretty sure he would have a multitude of fans at his beck and call. Alas, you’re the only one who fell victim to his obsession. 

He’s not stupid. He knows perfectly what it is you’re doing, what you’re planning. But Kafka has always been right about his feelings for you— a guard dog who’s a glutton for your affections. He’s perfectly capable of understanding when you’re bending him to your whims, when you’re attempting to stab him in the gut and run, he just doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter in the end anyway; he’ll always drag you back into his arms. 

Blade’s perfectly fine being used by you, because it means in some sick, twisted way, you need him just as much as he needs you. 

He’s left with bandages that wrap around his torso, dried blood seeping in its ivory. He’s about to remove them before you stop him. He watches with bated breath as you reach from the bathtub, the tips of your fingers grazing the fabric. Your eyes are locked onto the area, your digits sneaking under the wrap, and slowly pulling it away. With each intimate second, you remove his coverage, revealing more and more of his body. 

It has him watching you like you’re the last being on earth, his own personal saving grace. 

It has you tsk in disappointment when the skin is bare and clean, unfortunately healed. You’re disappointed he still has that annoying healing ability. He can see your evident dissatisfaction. He says nothing. 

When he finally dips in the bathtub, it’s evident it’s much too small for both of you, or more specifically, his large frame. Though you won’t lie, it’s quite entertaining to see the most intimidating man you’ve ever met in your life, surrounded by bubbles. He sits on the opposite side of the tub, per your request. While you might have invited him to join your side, you don’t want him near you. 

Besides, he’s right in acknowledging the fact that you have ulterior motives with this. 

“Huh. I half expected you to turn my bubbles red.” 

“I bathe regularly.” You would hope so. Maybe he’s just showered with blood so often that the scent decided to stick along. You’d rather he have a hint of death on him, instead of meandering with gore all over his person. It’s unknown to you, but an evident truth to the hunters, that after your appearance, Blade’s showers increased in frequency, death becoming less prominent than before. 

It still doesn’t drown out the smell of his sins, though. Especially his biggest one—keeping you to himself. You can smell your shampoo on him sometimes. 

“Not enough to cancel out your carnage, huh?” Your nose scrunches up when you say the words. It doesn’t earn a reply from him, nor a grunt, but you can sense it changed something. Though much more importantly, he’s waiting for you to enact your plan. He knows the cycle, depending on its severity, he allows your revenge, leaving you a few moments of victory before he takes you once more, not giving you the chance for freedom. It’s a cruel cycle, he knows it. He knows that doing it will make you hate him infinitely more, but he can’t bring himself to let you leave him. 

Without you, the unwanted immortal life he has been given goes back to being something he wishes to rid himself of. 

He’s lost in thought when he feels the water shift. The moment he looks up, you’ve already made it face to face with him, the water rippling from the movement. He’s tempted to look down at your body, but there’s something… comforting about looking at your face; Even if it’s completely bare of expression in the moment. 

“What are you doing?” His voice is gruff, low in a way anyone who didn’t know him would think he’s mad. Despite his stern question, he doesn’t stop your ministrations, allowing your hands to slide up to his wet shoulders. He might be feeding it more with the way his calloused hands grasp your waist. 

“Do you know what it’s like to drown, Blade?” 

“Yes.” He knows where this is going. 

“What about drowning… nonphysically?” he doesn’t answer, but you’ve learned the kind of silence he leaves is an answer of itself. You open your mouth to question him more, but stop suddenly, removing your hands from his body. It leaves the spot where you formerly were cold on his skin. He doesn’t let go of you however, his hands following your waist as you sit between his legs. 

“... I’m tired of this.” You're looking down. Not at him nor the bubble in the water, just down. You don’t think you're looking at anything really. Or maybe you are, maybe it’s something you haven’t seen yet. 

Maybe it’s hell.

“Of what?” Blade's scarlet eyes scan you for a hint of malice. He looks at you long enough to know when it’s coming. But in the moment, you seem sad, as if you’ve given up your original plan. He acknowledges he’s not the best person to go to for comfort within the Stellaron hunters, but a part of him still wishes to put you at ease. 

He can feel his mara flare at the sight, but it’s a small, insignificant fraction. He begins to reach out before he remembers just how quickly that status can change in a mere second. He never forgets that, yet you seem to once again do what his enemies can’t: catch him off guard. It’s too late for him, though, as his hand is already on your head, pulling you into his shoulder. 

Ah, right, it can’t be hell. That’s below. 

He can hear you sniffle. He doesn’t dare to look at you; he only lets you keep crying. The gesture is uncharacteristically sweet (or maybe it is in character. He’s not the type to show it, though you can sense he holds some fondness for some things.). His other hand wraps around you in an embrace, your bodies melting together in the warm water. It reminds you of what it was like before he went crazy with your survival, keeping you alive for the sake of easing his sanity. It reminds you of when you actually liked Blade, maybe even loved him. It’s this moment that has you rid of your original deduction, 

This is most definitely hell. 

Your hand pulls up from the water, banging his head into the side of the tub, hard. The water splashes everywhere at the impact. You watch him still, waiting for a few moments before concluding you ‘killed’ him. Despite the brutality, you can’t help but feel sorry. In an attempt to heal your guilt, you kiss his scarred chest, your thumb rubbing over it like a seal. 

You think now, in this moment, you won’t ever escape him alive. 

He seemed to have brought his sword into the bathroom, the hilt resting on the bathtub's frame. You don't know for whatever reason, yet a part of you thinks his insane obsession with protecting you might be part of it. 

You look towards the weapon, before gazing back at Blade. You have a few minutes at most… but chances are it’s sooner. He’ll force his regeneration into overdrive due to knowing you’ll be gone by the time he wakes up. You take the edge to your throat, breathing steadily. Your hands shake at the prospect; you don’t want to die. His broken blade rests in your palms. 

The truth is, the afterlife is a much better option than watching Blade spiral into madness in his desire to possess you. More specifically, the will to live in you. You’re much too bright for him; he knows that. But the selfish part of him wants that light all to himself. 

You shut your eyes, quickly swiping the sword across your neck. The pain is quick. 

Or rather… It was never there in the first place. 

Your eyes peek open, and the water is soaked red, deep red. It no longer holds the sweet smell of your shampoo, it holds iron. Horrific, horrible, iron. You’re scared to look at the sword, as the worst-case scenario is that you really are going to die; even so, your body reacts before you do. You look and see a familiar scarred hand gripping the weapon, blood seeping from his wound. 

You don’t want to look at his face, but it’s like there’s a magnet that connects you two. Chances are, the back of his head is reforming itself to heal faster. You feel like you’re forced to look at him. You know that’s not the case; you’ve never been forced to look at him. It just seems your instincts have you wanting to see him. 

You wish you had denied those urges though, as the look on his face is terrifying. 

It’s the same look he gives to those who cause you any deal of harm. It’s the look of a killer. 

“Blade…?” 

His hand pulls the weapon from your hand, setting it to the side. When it’s far from his grasp, his hands find themselves around you, caging you between the porcelain and his torso. It’s close, way too close, nevertheless you let him keep you there. His face is inches from yours, looking deep into your eyes. 

“Don’t.” Maybe a part of that gentleness he always ensured to give you was there, begging you not to leave him. The tone was harsh, yet it could be from panic. Or maybe his mara finally flared up, and it’s telling him not to allow anyone to take what’s his. 

…

You think that might be it. 

His desperation for your warmth has bled into his senses, and his mara now fully, entirely believes that your life is his alone. No one can take it, no one but him can touch it.

Not even you. 

Especially if it’s you, that takes the only good thing about the cruel, endless life of immortality. He made a promise to you once. 

“I won’t let anyone harm you.” 

You just had no idea that included you, too. 

“Stay alive.” He holds your trembling hands in his calloused ones, squeezing them tight. Not enough for harm, but enough to know he’s never letting you go. And enough to know he’s not happy with this attempt. He waits until you’re not shaking to lift your hand to his face. Your fingers are intertwined with his, and he watches the sight like it’s a spell, a reminder he got to you in time before it was your blood that stained the water red. “You can’t leave.” 

His command, you think, sounds more like a beg than it does an order. Nonetheless, you nod. 

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else before his mouth descends to your lips. When you feel his exhale brush against your skin, you inhale. You let him close the distance between your bodies in the crimson bath. His fingers intertwine with your own as his mouth imprints on your skin, his finger leaning down to linger at your core. He holds you like a weapon. 

One whose only purpose is to be his salvation. 

A/n: One day, I'll be normal about HSR and do this prompt without yandere. One day (Dunno when but it'll happen, I think)...

I was supposed to do it all in one post, but there's still much more to be written soooo

Phainon, Boothill, Argenti, and Dr.Ratio in next post!

"Oh... A bold confession." Jade can feel his composure stiffen, not falter he never falters. He's sure you wouldn't notice, after all, you’re not too keen on minute details. Unless, of course, they’re from his brother. “However, I did say I could never hurt you. I said nothing about others.” You blink a couple of times, Jade smiling before tilting his head to the side with that courteous smile, “I'm just joking, of course.” 

“Your idea of a joke isn’t very funny...” Jade’s breath hitches when you shove a book into his chest, your fingertips grazing his uniform. He shouldn’t feel your touch due to the fabric blocking any chance of contact, yet he does. It has him looking down at your hands, the same ones he believes would be beautiful on his shelf. So would your head, with those eyes, however, that pretty voice of yours would be gone. Your death would be an amazing addition.

Yet there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to let those parts of you die out. He wants those fingers to brush through his hair and intertwine with his own. He wishes those eyes to be trained on him forevermore, to allow him to watch as they soften in love, squint with anger, or roll back.

Most of all, he needs that voice of yours to say his name like he’s the only one left in your world. 

He mentally shakes those thoughts away, attempting to redirect to his primary goal once more, you. Dead as can be on his wall, innards a delicious meal—

“Jade, I don’t think you can hold any more of those…” The saying of his name has him perk up, almost like a light was sparked in his mind. Your words finally reach his consciousness after a few seconds, mismatched eyes looking down at the pile of books he's dropped. He lets out a hum, but before he can fix the stack, you’re stealing it from underneath. “How about you sit down…? You look hungry, for all I know, you might bite me.” Oh, he most certainly does want to. 

“Bite you? Preposterous, I like my meals tender, you’d be quite tough with that demeanor.” 

“I think…? I’ll take that as a compliment.” When he leans down to help you, you’re quick to slap his hand away, taking all the books before he can even touch them. With a sigh, you take your leave, begrudgingly muttering a bye to him. 

… At least what should’ve been a goodbye had he just left you alone. No, he instead follows close behind like a diligent puppy, a stray puppy. 

“No, but truly, I think you should consider my offer on that hike. The mountains are quite pretty, especially the life within them.” You pick up the pace, and Jade does so too. Well, not really, his long legs just have him walking at a regular pace. “You remind me of an edelweiss, a flower. They’re known—” 

You stop suddenly, Jade bumping into you from behind. You half-expect him to back up, but you know you can never expect the delectable with Jade. Instead, he takes the opportunity to wrap his hands around your bicep, leaning into a whisper. ‘Perhaps you do wish to take me up on my offer. ’ It’s what he imagines, but he stops when he sees your face, covered in stupor as you stare at the all too familiar student in front. 

“Floyd…” Your voice is soft and tender. It’s the exact way he sometimes wishes you to address him. 

He wonders what you see in him that he doesn’t have. Is it that unpredictability he has? Or maybe that unruly attitude. Is it his appearance? That can’t be, they look the same— Although… Floyd is a centimeter taller…

Jade fishes out his dried coat, a crying man in the corner.

"Please do stop. Crying gets a bit annoying to deal with after 3 hours." He smells the fabric, and of course, your smell has unfortunately disappeared from its threads. When he finally turns, the citizen looks wide-eyed at him, the cloth on his mouth making it impossible to speak his begging. He most likely hopes his eyes will do the trick. Unfortunately for him, there are only two pairs of eyes that have him reconsider any of his choices.

His dear brother and…

"Ah, yes, hello?" The man in the chair shakes when Jade tightens his constraints, the previously horrifying man now cheerfully walking around the dim basement. "My, you never call me. What is the occasion?'

"What is Floyd doing today?"

"… Ah." The man watches the shift instantaneously, his expression now blank as he prepares tools. "What about him? Oh my, have you planned a little kid play date? Sounds fun." His voice still holds that mocking tone, but his face holds no remnants of what's in his speech. "Shall I babysit?"

"What? No. Having you watch me talk to him just gives me the creeps…"

"I promise, I'll be as quiet as a little rodent. Just like your feelings for Floyd." Even though the phone isn't on speaker, the man can hear the way you talk to him, an evident annoyance in your tone. Lanky legs pace the basement floor, seemingly forgetting the man in front of him.

"You… I was asking because I needed you." Jade pauses, and with the way his mood has shifted thrice over the span of two minutes, would have even his family wondering if he's Floyd. "I wanted help on the assignment for enviormental—"

"Oh my, me? Have you replaced my dear [Name] with a doppleganger?" Through his muffled screams, the man can't hear the way Jade dreamily sighs. "And to think all it would take was a phone call… Perhaps I should've called you."

"I would've blocked… You…? Jade, what's with the screaming?"

"What screaming—?" He turns around, suddenly reminded of the man in the chair, tears streaming down his face. "Ah, forgive me. I was watching a movie. Just one moment." He mutes his phone, dragging the assorted weapons to the front of his body, the man shaking even more. "I must hurry before they hang up on me, I hope you know." The man doesn't seem to have any more noise in his body; instead, he just hopes pitiful eyes will help him. Those never do work with Jade, however. "It's rude to make noise when someone's on a call, you do know that, yes?" He nods hesitantly. With a sigh, Jade stands up, a scalpel in hand. The poor soul is left to fear the eventual. "I hope in your next life, you don't stalk a poor, helpless soul again."

…

"Hello? Forgive me, I had some matters to tend to. A little pest that won't bother you—anyone, again." Jade wipes off his hands, sitting with his mushroom pillow behind his back. "You stayed on the line, how kind of you—"

"Yeah, just to tell you, never mind. I'm gonna ask someone else." The call goes dead after you hang up.

"Ah. That is unfortunate."

Jade’s fingers work swiftly to clean the blood off his hands, a fresh pair of eyeballs sitting pretty on the counter as water runs. He must be quick before his family comes home. 

But the bliss of coming back from your side has him a bit too unfocused for his own good.

He's a bit too late; the sound of a door opening tells him he should’ve been quicker. With a sigh, he leaves the bathroom, coming face to face with a wide-eyed Floyd.

“Why can’t you ever knock Floyd…” Jade massages his nose bride with a sigh, allowing Floyd to continue staring at the fresh corpse and crimson that scatter the room. 

A moment passes, and a few more do before—

“Gross, you got it on my bed.” Floyd stomps over to his side of the room, picking up the leg of the poor woman and flinging her off. “Seriously? Why couldn’t you jus’ do it on your side of the room?” He visibly grimaces at the sight of blood on his blankets, but does nothing more than smudge it with his hand to clean it. He’s already falling back onto the mattress as if a body was never there. 

“Well, I didn’t want it in my bed.” 

“What? And I do or somethin’?”

“You’ve had worse on your bed.” Jade expects a reply but receives none. He rolls his eyes, turning his body back into the bathroom, ready to preserve those eyes before they dry out on him.  He assumes Floyd’s finally done with his tantrum before being proven wrong by a laugh that slowly filters from his throat. 

“Does shrimpy count as that ‘worse’ too than?” this comment has Jade quickly turning around once more, his hand hitting the doorframe to catch himself. It’s not very Jade-typical for him, but then again, anything about you has him not being Jade anymore. 

“Hm?” His hum is harsh, much more than he wishes it to be, but the damage has already been done. 

”Hahaha! Jade’s got a little crush.” His raspy laugh fills the violent atmosphere in the room. His hand lifts the arm of the deceased off the ground, pulling her finger until it pops,  and he places it in his mouth. “S’okay though,” Jade’s too busy looking at the desecrated meal to really care too much. “I got one too.” 

“Oh, pray tell, who?” He’s sure it’s just one of those shy little things that admire him. The kind that fall head over heels for the bad boy exterior, with a hint of tenderness. Or maybe it’s simply the extroverts who take a liking to him because of his athleticism. 

“Same one you got.” 

CRUNCH

Floyd looks wide-eyed, the finger he had just bitten off still in his agape mouth. Jade sighs at the sight before him; A piece of door frame in his hand from his grip. 

“... Let's not tell mother." It's a bit of a struggle for Jade to keep his composure at the sight of Floyd holding back a laugh. But he restrains himself, turning heel while furiously wiping his hands of wall chalk. Once Floyd’s laughter dies down, he sighs, slinking back into the headboard of his bed. The finger is still in his mouth, and it seems the moment he remembers, he’s suddenly not in the mood. He’s quick to spit the limb out like it’s the most vile piece of food in the world. 

“Gross…” He spits out the rock that was left in his mouth, and it glimmers in the light. It’s a diamond. He doesn’t really care much about it, and he’s ready to kick it under the bed before he thinks more. Diamonds are pretty to people, right? His lithe fingers reach towards the solid. 

He wonders if you like diamonds. He’s swift when he shoves it in his pocket. By the time Jade wanders back into the room, he’s successfully plastered a poker face to his earlier grimace. Floyd has already occupied himself with something on his phone, a bored expression making its imprint. He’s obviously not too interested, but a distracted Floyd is much better than one that instigates (That’s not true, Jade quite likes watching Floyd stir up issues, but only sometimes. As of right now, he’s much too distracted to deal with him). 

“Floyd, you haven’t stolen anything important off the body, right?” Jade walks close, kneeling on the floor. For a moment, he thinks, staring intently at the woman's body. He wonders what you’re doing right now. His arms reach down to pick the body up, bridal style. Maybe if he catches you at a good moment, you’ll be willing to go to a cafe with him. Perhaps. The feeling of cold skin snaps him from his thoughts. He drops the lady on the ground once more, opting for dragging her by the ankle instead. 

“Nah, all that stuff on her’s borin'.”

“Are you quite sure?” 

“Yup.” Jade doesn’t believe him, but he knows inquiring more could either annoy or anger him. With a nod, he turns to the door, heading towards the kitchen. Unfortunately, she’s no good. He thinks she might’ve been the type to eat only junk food. He’s readying a trash bag with diligence before his phone rings. It’s a caller ID not saved in his phone, and despite everyone always telling him answering is a bad idea, he accepts. After all, who knows, maybe his scammer would make a good meal. 

“Jade?” He inhales at the familiar voice in his ear. His heart skips for a moment before remembering this isn’t your phone. The moment he finally ignores your soothing voice in his ears, he realizes you’re in a payphone booth. 

“Yes? Is something the matter?” He’s carelessly tossing the body aside, something he never does. His hands rub together as he washes them with speed, obviously ready to devote his time to you. 

“... Can you come here?” He’s half tempted to poke fun at you, but restrains with how soft your voice is. “... Uhm… To my apartment if that's okay...” 

"My, what a bold invite. Aren’t you meant to take me for dinner first?" his throat is desperate to start your back-and-forth bickerings, but once again, he doesn’t allow himself the luxury. Because as of this moment, the only luxury he wishes to have right now is you. 

"… Please Jade… Just… Please come here."

“… Of course. I’ll be there as soon as I possibly can.”

…

You put the phone back on its screen. Pausing when you remember very quickly… You didn’t tell Jade where you live. Though it’s entirely possible he found out during a moment of dispute between you two. Weirdly enough, time seems to fly when you talk to him. Whether it’s a good or bad thing doesn’t matter, though, not right now. Especially not right now. 

Not when a body has appeared in your living room. 

Not when it’s because of you, that body is there. 

When Jade arrives, you’re sitting at the front of your door, leaning against the cold metal. He doesn’t say anything, taking off his sweater and wrapping it around you in the dead of night. You pull the coat into your body, and he can’t deny it’s an amazing sight. Domestic even. 

You push the door open as you usher him inside with great haste.

“... You’re the only one I think of when I think murder.” … Ah. What a wonderful start to a conversation. Anyone else who would be told that would definitely’ve been creeped out immediately. Not him, he thinks he might just soak every word you say to him like a sponge. Especially the insulting ones. It’s a nice reminder you’re not a walking meal in his eyes, but a person who’s not quite a pest like the rest of the city. He’s ready to reply with his own retort before you speak up again, quickly killing his happy bliss. “... And, the idea of Floyd seeing me like this is horrifying.” 

“Maybe I should call him then.” 

“I’ll kill you.” 

“Hm. Perhaps you should consider yourself to be the murderer instead, yes?” 

“...” 

“... Uncharacteristically silent.” You continue your muteness, burying your head in your knees. He allows you to. And honestly, the more you think. Why would you even tell anyone? Why would you even tell Jade of all people? You hate him. No... despise him, you think. Yet after what happened, your first instinct was to call him. To tell him, to admit to him. To… to have him be your savior. With bated breath, you slowly bring your head up, ready to tell him everything you did in the moment. 

The second you meet his mismatched eyes and open your mouth, you’re silenced by the feeling of soft lips merging with your own, and sharp teeth clicking with yours. It’s not a long kiss, but it’s not very short either. When he finally releases you, his eyes look at the shock in your face, grinning with pure manic. 

“Maybe I was wrong.” Despite the urge to run and hide at the sight of his expression, you’re rooted in place, looking deep into his irises. “Perhaps, we’re closer than I believed.” He laughs, it’s not filled with humor, nor is it sarcastic, rather, it’s dripping in joy. 

Maybe it’s the fact he’s handsome, maybe it’s because of how desperate you are for escape, or maybe it’s because of the fact he looks like Floyd, you realize, you didn’t entirely hate what he did. 

… 

Your arms wrap around yourself as you face the wall, tugging Jade’s jacket close to you. Your foot taps the floor impatiently as you wait. Jade circles around the body, inspecting every inch of it as blood drips on your carpet. It’s laid on the top of your table, things that were previously on top, haphazardly thrown to the floor. He’s very focused on looking at your work.

“Please don’t tell me you kiss dead bodies, too.” You’re still looking away as you talk to him. Despite it, it’s like you’ve grown the special ability to sense Jade’s expression even when you glance away from him. 

“Nonsense. Their lips aren’t quite as nice as yours.” 

“So you’re admitting to having kissed one.” 

“I haven’t. Though if you’re jealous, I don’t mind.” 

“Why would I be jealous? I’ve already told you the twin I like is Floyd–” You jump when Jade’s hand lands on your shoulder, flipping you around to face him. It wasn’t harsh; it was soft, but somehow you can feel a sense of sternness built in him. 

“I don’t feel like talking about how much you love Floyd today. Forgive me, but he isn’t the one you called over here, is he?” You stiffen at his words, but your composure breaks more when you spot the corpse once again, your fingers swinging up to pull Jade close, using him as a wall. “... We have time. No one will have called in missing until tomorrow.” his hand finds itself on your head, rubbing circles into your scalp. 

You nod. But, you can’t help but notice Jade didn’t make fun of you for not saying you didn’t hate that kiss. 

You’re guided to the table as Jade gets to work. His hands are adorned with latex gloves as he cleans. It’s useful, incredibly useful. Which is what scares you. He’s so skillful with his cleaning, ridding your home of any evidence, that it makes you worry about how and why he’s so professional at it. 

But the thing you fear more is the fact that he hasn’t asked you why you did it. He’s incredibly silent, with only the occasional banter with you as he works. You can’t help but stare at him with each spot cleaned, burying yourself further in your fears. 

"She…"

"Had a little crush, yes?"

"You… You knew?" You stare wide-eyed, Jade not daring to look up as he bleaches the carpet.

"So did he." He doesn't say Floyd's name, but you know that's what he means. "He's not quite that oblivious to feelings. Nor did she try hiding it."

"Oh… Okay." You curl yourself into your knees, the hardwood of the chair cutting into your muscles from not moving, but you don't care. So much so, you don't notice the way Jade smiles. His reason is simple.

"To think there was something in you for such brutality. And you said I, was the murdering type." The cleaning agent burns your nose, but you continue breathing against your own will. "You must really like—Ah, forgive me. You must be obsessed with my brother."

"You…!" You stop yourself from saying anything else, deciding that this statement is the unfortunate truth.

"You must be so sure she liked him. Imagine if she didn't? What a cruel ending…" He fakes crocodile tears, walks across the table, and bends down to have you 'wipe them off.' When you only stare, he doesn't let up, resorting to only staring straight into your pupils. "You are sure, right?"

"Of course I'm sure…! If she wasn't obsessed with Floyd, I wouldn't have killed her, you…!" You stop yourself at the admission, quickly playing with Jade's acting and wiping off his fake cries. You make sure not to linger long. Your wiping is more akin to a slap than a tender cleaning. When he stands to continue his work, he halts when he feels your hand clench the fabric of his coat, looking down at your curled form. "Do you know what's worse, Jade…?" He doesn't reply; he only hums, encouraging you to continue. "I… I liked doing it. Doing it… for Floyd." He pauses. "Do… Do you think he would still love me for it?" You pause as well, before sitting up, resting your head on Jade's arms as you hug the limb closer. "Would he… still love me if I did it again?"

It takes a moment of silence before he removes the glove from his hands, wrapping you in a characteristically cold warmth. "Oh yes, I'm sure he would." You embrace Jade as you heave in fear.

He doesn't think you've realized it yet.

But the woman on your table, staring back at you with empty eyes, has never had a thing for Floyd.

She's been obsessed with Jade.

"Jade… I don't want to like what I did—" You're stopped once more when Jade places a kiss on your neck.

You don't have to like what you did. The prospect that you enjoyed it for "Floyd's" sake, however, has Jade in glee. And he knows he will do the same for you, too.

"You don't have to. But I'm sure Floyd, will."

… Jade simply has to make sure his equally hungry brother doesn't find out about this little discovery. It might be a little too confusing for your little heart.

…

Unbeknownst to you, a second murder will occur similarly. One, with a victim who will surely confuse you even more.

"Shrimpy's got a knack for this." Floyd watches from the window, a playful tone in his throat, smiling at the way your silhouette darkens the alleyway. It drops when he sees who's helping you, a courteous smile on his lips as his hand lies on your waist.

You fail to notice him in the corner of your eye; however, the man who lets his hands wander from your side, all the way up to your shoulder, notices him all too well. His heartfelt smile twisted into something of victory.

"Mm, Floyd will surely love you for this," Jade emphasizes his brother's name, and he knows exactly what it is he's doing.

"Y-You think?" You mutter out, your eyes trained on the body. It's when Jade turns your chin to face him, do you see that obsession with what you think is killing. The reality, however, is that all this affection is for you.

"Yes… In fact, he's already in love with you."

"… You're the worst." You shove him off you, earning a smile from his lips.

"Me? I only tell the truth." And the unfortunate part about that is that he's right.

…

Floyd leaves the alley. He realizes now that the only way to save your crush on him, is to show you he's just as obsessed.

When you return to your house, Jade is guiding you on kissing. While you shouldn't trust anything he says, you still allow him to teach you… Even if it means making out with the guy you hate with all your gut, even if he did just help you murder someone.

A ring at your doorbell has you shoving Jade to the other side of the couch, as if you didn't know him at all.

"Ah, yes hello, I'm so sorr… y…?" When you look down, there's a box on your doorstep. But the smell is familiar.

A smell you've experienced twice.

The box opens all by itself, revealing a head. A head of a man who had asked you out just last week. A ring adorned with a giant diamond in his eye.

When you turn to Jade, his expression is blank, zeroing in on the ring.

"Is someone… On to…" Jade holds your trembling hands, pulling the accessory out of the eyeball. You allow him to take the box, burying yourself in his coat once more.

"Huh," Jade mutters.

He should've thought of that sooner.

—————

Riddle is fuming at Grim's carelessness, it’s already bad enough that you have no magic in this faraway land, but to be subjected to a potion that doesn’t have a real cure? That’s even worse. He most definitely beheads the feline after he hears about the situation, immediately sending him onto a time-off corner, prattling on about how he should’ve been listening to the rules and acting accordingly in class.

His lecture is cut short at the sound of scribbling, his head turning to look at you furiously writing down on a piece of paper. Your lips are straight-lined as you lift the words to his face.

“Grim said the cure is a kiss.”

Oh… his mouth opens to question you more about this so-called cure, though the heart shape you form with your hands, however, is all the information he needs. It’s unfortunate that it only works if you kiss whoever it is you “love”, he could’ve gotten away with kissing you under the guise of helping if it was just anyone who could kiss you—

Who’s he kidding his face is close to turning red at such a thought. Of course the cure is something so basic, true love. Ah, no not true love, just simply a crush. Yes, a crush.

A crush that can’t be him.

He stays composed externally but internally he can’t deny he’s a little disappointed, it doesn’t matter however, he’ll help you get this kiss from your mystery student, even if it hurts a little to watch. The sound of flipping paper attracts his attention once again.

“So kiss me. Please.”

… What…? What…?! What?!

His eyes widen at the words, his mouth agape at the statement, his skin quickly flushing at the thought. You. Him. You and him. Him and you.

He’s essentially frozen in place. But, the extremely quiet sound of a broken up “okay” signals to you his permission. The feeling of soft lips being placed on his own snapped him out of his trance. He blinks a few times at your face, a smile invading your mouth.

“Thanks Riddle.”

—————

Your hands are furiously shaking Leona's shoulders, despite your relentless attempts at awakening him from his slumber, he doesn't even tell you to stop.

He didn’t even show any signal of stirring when Grim practically shouts to you about getting that kiss from him to “fix yah up”. Didn’t show any sign when you threw one of his shoes at the cat either.

He might be dead, he’s pretty still, like a corpse… Nah, he’s just being a douche.

Carefully, you drop down to his level, your face smooshed into his mattress as you look at his sleeping face. He looks a lot more peaceful in his sleep, his face is less serious and a bit more softer. He does look like a prince from a fairytale when he’s asleep, actually, maybe more of a princess with how pretty he is.

If you had your voice, you’re sure there would be hushed chuckles leaving your throat as you take out your phone. Your fingers are quick to swipe open your camera, lifting the device to Leona's face. Your joy doesn’t last long though, as when you’re just about to take a picture, the sight of Leona stares back at you on your screen, the subdued expression he previously held replaced with his usual face.

“What do you think you’re doin?”

…He’s awake! You’re quick to open the notes app, ready to explain the whole thing to him, along with indirectly confessing your feelings, unfortunately. But, he seems to think differently, as your phone is swiftly snatched from your palms and placed on his nightstand. When you reach over to grab it, his arm pulls you back down, your head buried into his chest, essentially being used as a secondary pillow for him.

“That typing’s loud, i’m tryna sleep.” … and I’m trying to get my voice back.

No matter how much you struggle, he doesn’t let you go. After a few minutes of trying to get your phone back, you give up, becoming his human-sized plushie in your defeat. Maybe he’ll be in the mood when he’s awake. So, your eyes gradually shut themself, sleep taking you over as you wrap your arms around the lion next to you.

…

“Hey, quit talking in your sleep.”

“Hmm…? Oh sorry— Wait what…?!” His palm flies of your mouth as words get muffled in his skin.

Appears you missed the Leona Kingscholar, kissing you. That’s unfortunate.

—————

“Hmm…? You need my help yes? Well then just sign here and I’ll get you that kiss you need!” Azul slips the golden contract across the table, the con man smiling as you read through the fine print.

In the corner, you notice the extremely tiny text saying how you’ll be obligated to stand by his side for the next month and do whatever tasks he needed to be done from you.

You swiftly slide the paper back to him as your head vigorously shakes a firm “No”.

“Oh? Do my terms not satisfy you? Your situation sounds very similar to our princess from the Coral Sea, having to kiss her prince for her voice back. I wonder how you’ll get that princely kiss…” he shrugs his shoulders before sighing, grabbing a stack of papers along with a pen, waving you off before looking at the sales revenue from this week. “No matter, if you don’t need my help please exit, I am a busy man—“

Your hand slams on the surface of his desk, his pupils widening at the sudden outburst. He stays silent for a moment, the glimmer of his glasses covering your view of his eyes. If you had, you would’ve seen the slightest hint of longing in him.

“A very determined soul you are… I'll change your conditions if you want your voice back so bad.” His fingers snap, the old contract disintegrating as a new one forms in his hands. “No fine print, I’ll help you get your kiss, and you work for the Monstro lounge for 2 weeks. Just 2 weeks. Is that a deal?” You squint, looking to make sure there really is no fine print. When you’re assured there really is none, you take a pen from his gloved palm, writing your signature on the line.

“It’s a deal it seems, now, tell me who it is you have affections for, and I’ll make sure you get that kiss—-“The sudden pull of his collar stops him mid-sentence, your lips connecting to his own before pulling away.

He’s extremely flustered, his cheeks blushed, his hat lopsided, eyes the widest you've ever seen them. He did agree to get you that kiss, but… he truly wasn’t expecting you to kiss him…! Of all possible candidates at the school…

“Wha… I’m… Huh…!?”

You straighten your posture before rolling your sleeves up, “So when do I start Azul?”

—————

Your eyes watch Vil meticulously crush, stir, and drop different ingredients into the cauldron, each one changing the color of the liquid inside. To be honest, you’re a little disappointed he knows a cure, you’ll have to wait another time before really confessing to him. His well manicured fingers take the ladle into his hand, carefully pouring the bright drink into a bowl, handing it to you as his eyes await for you to drink it up.

When you do, you set the bowl down, ready to speak, but no sound comes out. Your eyes stare into his, confusion set in your irises.

“I thought you had a dry throat?” Oh, you shake your head, your index finger pointing toward the cauldron and signaling poorly acted-out explosions and screams. “So it was a failed potion?” You pause for a moment before remembering what unit you were on in class. “It was that singing potion wasn’t it?” He contemplates for a moment before grabbing a small vile on the shelf, a potion the was already premade.

He pops it open, ready to pour it down your throat, but before he does, he pulls it back, quickly replacing the concoction with his extremely soft lips the taste of something good invading your taste buds, you assume it to be his chapstick. He stills for a moment, letting your lips lock and exchange touches. When he releases, he doesn’t give you the chance to interject, making you chug the drink down your throat, some of it escaping the corner of your lips, his gloved thumb wiping it off your chin.

“Vi… Vil…? Why’d you do that…?”

“How did Grim tell you to lift it?” He backs away from you, putting the empty glass in the sink.

“He said I… Had to kiss someone I liked. Why?”

“That’s what he said? Huh, I see.” He takes out his own brand of chapstick, reapplying it to his lips. You stay leant on the shelf of the rooms, watching as Vil’s silhouette moves towards the door. “No reason. Now, I have to get back to filming. Take better care of your lips, [Name].” He’s already out the door by the time you work up the courage to say anything else.

As he walks in the hallway, the leather of his gloves clench. It seems Grim did correctly tell you the cure. It doesn’t matter though, whether it was his kiss or that potion that worked, all he cared about was getting you fixed. He’s an actor, he’s keen to notice the presentations of people around him. He was sure you liked him, and even Rook fed into such a delusion. But, there was always a gnawing feeling of not being fair enough to you. So just in case, if you never really did like him, he won’t know.

He’s a good actor, but even actors can’t lie to themself. He really hopes it was his lips that cured you and not that potion.

…

The next day, when Vil finishes applying his makeup, the door to his room is knocked on, albeit very quickly. By the time he finally opens it, nobody is found, only a gift basket filled with fruits and low-grade beauty care, well low grade to him. If his suspicions about who this came from are correct, he can’t blame them for not having enough money to afford proper skin care.

When he looks in, all he sees is a card with a small smiley face and a heart. But he already knows who his secret sender truly is.

—————

Your knocking on Idias door gets harder and harder with every strike. You know he’s in there, but chances are he’s too absorbed in a game to notice your frantic hits. You’re about to hit the wood one more time before the door swings open and your fist is only an inch away from his nose.

“I… I only heard you just now…”

You’ve been out there for 10 minutes.

“You didn’t text me beforehand like usual… Is… Is there something you need…?” He steps to the side allowing you in his room, immediately having you sit on his bed before shutting the entrance. You look around a moment before handing him the note you had pre-written on your phone.

“No voice. Cure is a kiss from person I like. I like you, Idia. Please kiss me.”

It isn’t exactly the confession you wished to give him, but by the time you were typing it, you had deleted so much of the text you originally had from embarrassment, and by the time you looked up, you were already at his door… and Ortho was beaming in excitement behind you, you couldn’t possibly disappoint him by just walking away again.

He essentially shortcircuits the moment he reads the words off the screen.

He doesn’t speak, not even a panicked screech. The only sign of embarrassment he shows you is the sight of his hair turning pink.

“Wha… Wha… What…?”

You expected that, so you lifted your finger, signaling him to scroll down.

“You don’t need to like me back, just kiss me and i’ll leave.”

“No no, If we were in like… like a game… that type of game… you would have… ughhh…. You would have my… affection bar… filled— not filled maybe like 110%… up…” he struggled to get the words out he didn’t even make eye contact with you once in his speech. But, you understand what he’s trying to say to you. “Nevermind, forget it…! Just find someone… someone else… you deserve like a prince of something…”

His posture is hunched over, and he’s quick to turn away from you. You’re sure if he was closer to the wall he would curl into the corner and attempt to hide from you.

You’re pretty sure he’s about to do just that, he’s already slowly making his way to the corner. He’s only narrowly stopped when he feels you tug on his sleeve, pulling his face into your own.

His mouth was slightly open from shock, so his razor sharp teeth poked you, but even then it was still a nice feeling. When you part, he stares at you for an entire minute. His hair was already pink, but somehow it must’ve gotten even pinker.

“You… You won the game…”

“Did I…? What does that mean…?”

“Forget I said that. I’m gonna die now”

—————

It’s been at least half an hour since you’ve met up with Malleus, and he seems to not have noticed you don’t have a voice to reply. But at the same time, it’s nice listening to him ramble on and on about his Gargoyle studies—

“You have not spoken.” Your head is quick to turn, your body slightly jolting at the sight of Malleus’s face mere inches away from your own. Sometimes, you forget he doesn’t have any sense of space. This point is further proven when he moves his face away but your shoulders are still in contact. “Why is that?”

Your hand reaches down to your side attempting to take out your phone, but, it only grasps air. You look back down into your pocket, not noticing any holes for it to fall out of.

What? Did… Did I loose it or something?!

“This thing…” your head flips back to the man in front of you, his gloved fingers turning the phone with narrowed eyes. “I don’t understand, why not just talk to me? Would you rather use this phone than converse with me…?” You can spot early signs of Malleus’s emotional turmoils. It doesn’t take long for you to see the hint of disappointment in his eyes at the mere notion of you not even wanting to talk to him.

Along with that, clouds are beggining to form in the sky

You immediately shake your head at him, your fingers pointing to your throat while forming an x. Though your movements are so quick from the sheer panic of lightning striking, he doesn’t understand what you’re doing until you slow down.

“Ah, you did talk about that potion unit didn’t you.” You nod your head, ready to perform a collection of poorly acted-out charades to showcase your cure. You only got as far as the heart in your hands before he interrupts. “If I remember correctly, the fix to that is a kiss from the one who holds your affections… is it not?” The boom of thunder increases at an incredible rate, and even the pout Malleus holds on his face gets more obvious. “Have you come here to ask for my aide?” You can tell, it’s very obvious he’s trying to hide his dispiritedness beside a veneer of support. “Then… I will help a dear… friend.”

At his words, you shake your head the hardest you’ve probably ever shaken it to disagree with someone. You’re sure you must’ve swayed your brain too hard, by the time you stop you honestly feel a little dizzy.

“Ah, do you not want my help?” The lightning in the air starts fading, but in exchange, it’s like the clouds have gotten darker. “Am I, not allowed the see the object of your desire?” You wish you just had your phone out from the beginning, it would’ve made things so much easier. You bring your arm up, pointing at him.

Malleus is smart, he needs it if he will be Briar Valley’s ruler. Yet, he’s a bit dense in terms of human emotions and relationships.

“I thought you didn’t want my help…?” You’re sure if you could make any sound, pure screams of frustration would’ve left you. “I’m left in confusion as to how it is I can help you. I want to assist you Child of man but, I don’t wish to see you kiss anyone else—“Your hands immediately take him by the tie, dragging him into you as your lips practically smash together. If anyone saw you, such a scene would be quite the scandal for the heir. Minutes go by when you finally release him, and when you look up, the sky is the clearest it's been for the past month. “So it was me.” The look in his eyes is fond, it’s a warm sight.

“Yeah, I can’t believe you didn’t notice sooner, I didn’t hide it…”

“You didn’t?”

“I confessed to you twice before this Malleus…”

—————

(This is self indulgent cuz i’m unfortunately a Rollo fan…)

Considering how far away Noble Bell is from Night Raven, you have no doubt you’d be stuck voiceless for quite awhile before you get to see Rollo again. Grim is just left to watch you sulk as your head falls in disappointment. You honestly don’t know how to tell Rollo about your situation either, you could always text him, but how do you even tell him you need to kiss him as your cure? Along with that… over text? That’s just pathetic. He’d probably shame you for being so ungraceful with your feeling towards him.

“Quit moppin’ and tell him already! I’m gettin' depressed just watchin’ ya…” with your head buried into your arms you can feel Grim practically shaking you out of your ball of shame with his tiny paws. “Come… on…! You’re not gonna get your voice back doin' nothin’!” He’s… unfortunately, completely correct.

With a soundless groan, you reach for your phone and open your contacts, drafting the text you’ll send to Rollo.

Rollo, I need to tell you something… your fingers continuing to vigorously type your paragraph.

Three knocks disperse your attention.

“[Name] are you there?” The familiar voice immediately strikes panic in your body as you accidentally throw your phone into the air, pathetically catching it as you stumble towards the door with a loud thud. On the other side, the door can be seen harshly shaking at an impact from within the room, Rollo glancing to each side of him in confusion. “Are you okay?” The lack of a reply makes worry bubble inside of him.

Before he’s given the chance to open the entrance himself, the door swings inward, allowing him to peak in through the crevice. He looks inside with initial confusion before hurriedly shuffling towards the room, the sight of your body on the floor making him even more puzzled with every passing second.

He lifts your upper body, having you sit face to face with him in such close proximity. Your eyes are dazed, looking directly into his eyes before looking around as if you didn’t even notice this was the genuine Rollo Flamme and not just a product of your imagination.

Damn you Grim… Leaving me as soon as you opened the door…

“Your room… is very disorderly [Name].” I was on the floor and you’re focused on how messy my room is? “I did tell you about how messy it was last time I was here too didn’t I?” I get it, I’m messy, so stop rubbing it in… A moment of silence passes before he quirks up an eyebrow, suspicions of his growing by the minute. “No witty comeback this time? Have you finally decided to start listening to me?” Your lack of reply Honestly worries him. Your eyes take a glance at your phone, making his tired face look over as well.

When he moves to grab it, he pauses his hand frozen in place. Your text is still displayed on your screen, as well as the current predicament you find yourself in. Realization hits you in waves as you quickly crawl over to snatch your phone from his palm. When you tried, his hand moves away in time to avoid your reach.

“It’s quite distasteful to admit such a thing through text.” I knew it… your head leans down, once more, in defeat. But, that's quickly changed when his nimble fingers take your face and lead them to his own. Honestly, it felt as if it lasted for eternity when in reality, the exchange only lasted for a couple of seconds. It was as if, Rollo finally felt the need to indulge himself in a little sin, only a little. When you finally separate, you're both left on the floor of your room, awkwardly glancing at the material.

“So… why’d you come here, Rollo? I thought after everything that happened at Fleur City you wouldn’t wanna come here again…”

“I do. I still don’t wanna be here.”

“Then why are you—“

“There’s a holiday at Noble Bell, we have a day off. I came to spend it with you.”

“No, no… Not that. I mean…” You furrow your brows at the way he looks off to the side, seemingly disinterested in the conversation. You can tell he’s putting up a facade; despite his proficiency in acting a part, there’s always a tell. At least when he’s lying to you, anyway. He never seems to look at you. “Why didn’t you go back?” 

“Go back? What? Like home?” You nod. He’s still not looking at you, but he rolls his eyes anyway. “They’re not gonna just welcome their newly dead son back home. They probably would’ve just called for you guys to kill me.” You’re silent at his words, yet he continues to talk. “I’m right, yeah? It’s not like there’s a cure for me.” 

“... There… No, never mind.” 

“Riiight. They teach you that death is the only cure.” Once again, he silences you. But in turn, you continue to stop him from even so much as glancing at you. Not really your fault, but you count it as your doing anyhow. “... You gonna cure me? If it’s you—” 

Your hands slap the side of his face. Not enough to hurt him, but enough for his eyes to finally find yours after a while. He’s dead, but if he still had blood running through his skin, there would be a faint pink dusting his cheeks. Of course there would be… As your face has leaned down only a few inches from his. Your thumbs brush his cheeks, and his throat catches in his breath. It would be a worry if he needed it, but he doesn’t, so he waits for your next move.  

“Do you—Do you not want to be a human? Or even just… Free?” Cold hands find yours, Ace, looking deeply into your irises now. His eyes remain ever so intent on peering deep into you, so much so that they haven’t gone unfocused for even a mere second. 

“Do you wanna set me free?” Your voice runs dry at that exact moment. One, you feel, should be the last moment you lose your voice, yet that’s the timing life seems to give you. You open your mouth before closing it. You fear the zombie to believe you’re giving up on him. Truthfully, however, he’s right. There’s not much to do but kill him. 

But you just can’t. 

“Ace I–” You lean even closer into him, the breath of your words touching his skin. Before you can say anything more, his head lifts suddenly, his forehead knocking into your chin. It’s painful, but you’re too focused on Ace to care about the sensation. You still massage your chin though. The back of his head faces you, his hands ripping the blades of grass from the dirt below in his fingers. You call out to him, but he’s already standing up, leaving you before you can say anything else. 

You’re left wondering what it is you did wrong. You conclude to have gone too far with your questioning… But you can’t help but wish to know more about him. 

… 

There’s a limp in his step due to his right calf having no muscle, but it doesn’t stop the zombie from walking as fast as he can to the hospital. He’s heard of the phenomenon before. Riddle would talk about it. Phantom pain or something. But that’s for pain. 

So why is an organ that’s no longer there beating as fast as it possibly can in his hollow chest?

Ace stops for a single moment, his hand reaching towards the middle of his ribs. His palm feels nothing but the absence of warmth. It only meets cold skin and a dead body. Yet, he swears he can feel it. He swears on his unpassed soul that it’s there. Something that shouldn't be felt at all.

The endless sensation of his heart beating in his body. 

His pale fingers reach for his lips, his index tapping his skin. You were… You were so close to him… He could feel your breath on his cold lips. It’s as if you’re breathing new air into his lungs. The lively kind, not the stale stuffy breed that flows in the vents of the hospital. You might have revived him. Figuratively, at least.

… 

He comes to the horrible realization that he’s not just interested in you. He thinks he might be in love. And that might be the worst thing to happen to him. Even more than dying. 

When I get home, I'm gonna sell you my soul. When I get home, when I get home, when I get home.

For once, just this one time, Ace wishes for a different monster to occupy your time. But no, it seems you’ve chased everyone away just for him. Which… in truth has him wishing to hang a sign, essentially showing off to everybody that you chose him. But he shakes the thought away almost as quickly as it came (not really though, it still lingers in the back of his mind). 

“Are you obsessed with me? Jeez, should we just live together at this point?” He attempts his best mask to hide his wavering mental conflict. Yet there’s a big part of him that wishes to chase you away, and an even bigger part that wants to hang onto you as long as possible. He listens to neither and plants himself where he is, watching diligently as you climb through the broken window of the hospital. 

“Do you want to?” Your statement has him stiffen. It seems you’re finally catching on to him as a being. He doesn’t seem to notice the way your eyes trail up and down his body before falling on his face.

“What? Are you offering? That’s bold.” 

“I’m climbing through your 10-story hospital. But that’s what you call bold…?” 

“... Why… are you doing that?” You pause, your eyes locking onto his at the question. 

“... To… see you…? I thought this was obvious?” He should come up with some quip to deflect his clenched fists, but he doesn’t. Instead, he falls back onto the old hospital bed, dust flying up at the force of him dropping down. He doesn’t look at you, his eyes drifting to the corner. Even as you poke the side of his cheek—When did you sit next to him?! “Your brain was already gone before. What’s it this time?” You stop assaulting his face with the tip of your finger when he finally turns to you, your finger, instead of poking, remains pressing into his cold skin. He doesn’t mind it at all, though. “Why are you looking at me like that…?”

“Do you… You know…” He shrugs his head, as if it’s enough of a question for you to answer. When you don’t, only looking at him with a quizzical look on your face, he sighs, like you’re the one not getting it. “Oh come on…! Like do you…?” 

“No, I don’t know, Ace.” He falls back onto the mattress, looking up at you from where he lies. His brows furrow. “You’re always talking too much, and now you can’t even finish your sentence.” You’re about to follow his lead, only stopped by him holding you up. You look back to see why he’s stopping you, his free hand patting the spot you’re about to lie down, dusting it off before it can fly all over you. When he’s done, he suddenly releases you without warning, allowing you to lie next to him. “What’s all that about, huh? Is it some sort of generational Heartslaybul secret?” 

“Not a Heartslaybul secret,” he mutters, throwing his arms up so he can rest his head on them. You’re about to do the same before he sticks his arm out, sneaking it under your head. You squint at him, turning to your side to fully face him, his cold limb your pillow. 

“So a you secret?” 

“... Yeah. Kinda.” He gazes at you every other second. 

“You should tell me. I wanna know now.” You lean closer, effectively breaking Ace’s staring. He fixates on the crack in the ceiling instead. 

“Well you should’ve answered earlier. I’m not telling you.” 

“Wha?” You jump up from your spot, Ace’s arm missing the temporary warmth you provided him. You look down, his face exuding something smug to you. “How am I supposed to figure out what ‘y’know’ means…?!” He flicks your forehead, nothing major though. You’re sure he could do some actual damage with just a flick, but he doesn’t. Not to you at least. 

“Not my problem.” 

“Ough… Everything is a you problem…!” At some point, your pestering for an answer must have tired you, as your breath remains soft, your head gently resting on his arm once again as you sleep. He’s lucky he doesn’t need blood flow; he wouldn’t be able to do this for as long as possible. But even then, if he did have running blood again, he still doesn’t think he would remove his arm from you. He’d rather it go numb than have to wake you up. 

His body growls at him, the need for food growing. He needs to find some unsuspecting traveller and make them his next meal, now more than ever. Instead, he finds himself staring at you.

I'll break your bones, with all the love I carry.

Your dagger buries itself into the wood of the trunk, missing Ace’s head by only a few inches. He doesn’t seem at all bothered by it. His eyes glare at you, but you know truthfully they’re never glaring at you. Despite your panicked breaths, you let his freezing hand crawl up, wrapping around your hand, the one that holds the hilt of your blade. He makes no move to pull it out. You have a feeling he’s doing so to hold you, not your weapon. But feelings have no place in this argument. It’s what you think, but it’s wrong. 

Feelings are everything in the fight between you two. 

“You… You…! Tell me why Ace! Huh?! Are you trying to die again?!” 

“And are you even trying to kill me?!” You bite your inner lip. No matter how hard you want to tell him you’re trying to kill him, you don’t have the heart to lie about something so untrue. “... What? Are you in love with me?” A question he should be asking himself really. He doesn’t, though. He already knows the answer. 

“... You haven’t… Eaten anything since—” 

“You said you hated that.” 

“I know I did… I do! But if you don’t, you’ll die—!” 

“But that’s your whole goal.” Ace finally pulls the blade from behind him. He doesn’t turn it on you like most monsters would. Instead, you find him aiming the tip of the dagger at his throat, your hand tightly encased beneath his. “I’m just helping you out. I always do. I’ll always help you.” You don’t know when he got them, you forget how good he can be with his hands, but he hands you a pair of matches with his free limb. “You gonna give up—?” 

He has no chance to finish the rest of his sentences, the blade already swiped away, and the matches used. The flames shine brilliantly as the weapon glows with pain. Ace gasps at the suddenness of it all. Too quick, without even a second of consideration. 

The blade slices into the grass as the match burns on top of its steel. 

The zombie finds his cold, dead lips to be instead buried into your warmth, your mouth swallowing all semblance of words from him. He has no need for air, and so, he takes the opportunity. He lunges from the tree trunk, his arms finding your waist to pull into him, closing tightly around your live flesh. Your mouth exchanges wordless confessions that only the two of you will ever know. At some point, you think he’s holding you so tight that he might break a rib, yet you don’t tell him to stop. You make him hold you closer if anything, bringing the kiss deeper. 

At some point, it took four tries to tell him you needed air before he let you go. Each time you pulled away, he would follow, and you didn’t have the heart to leave him like that. You don’t notice it, but one of his hands have fallen of his joint, his fingers left to grasp at air, desperately searching for you. 

“Ace? Do you like me?” He’s silent at your inquiry, his mouth left slightly agape as if he’s searching for words. He finally finds them. Though, they don’t fit the situation it self, it fits Ace perfectly. 

“No. I just wanted to eat your face,” he says sardonically. He says it as if it's unfeasible, but he quite literally eats people, so the thought isn’t that ridiculous. His attached hand finds itself still holding onto you. Through the silence, he slowly leans his head down, waiting for some form of disapproval so he can stop. You never give one, and so he finds his head resting on your shoulder. He exhales a breath he never knew he was holding. “... If I didn’t, I wouldn’t… You know…” You poke his scarred eye, earning a huff from the deceased. It’s not like doing so will cause immense pain for him, but he swats you away anyway. “Why don’t I ask you that?” His annoyance is replaced with a smug smile on his formerly cold lips, which have only been glossed thanks to the Chapstick from your own. 

“Don’t look so proud. I’m not answering that.” 

“Wha?! But I have to answer you?! That’s not fair at all y’know…” He looks dejected, yet still determined to hear your truth. His fallen hand remains off, crawling up your side like a spider before pinching your waist. You jump at the sudden pain, grabbing his limb before it can do so a second time. “Come on, you should say it just this one time.” He pokes your cheek, “I won’t even tell Deucey about it, I swear.” 

“Yeah you will you show off.” 

“Well if not him, who am I supposed to tell? I can’t let it stay a seceret.”

“So you admit to lying…” 

"Lying? I have the face of innocence. I would never."

The two of you continue to bicker about his need to tell everyone he got to you before they could. Despite the recklessness of doing so, your will to stop him falters with each suggestion. 

…

A disappointed boss sighs in the distance.

Keep you close, and one day we'll get married.

Ace rows endlessly, something he’s been doing for the past few hours. When you try taking the paddles from him, his strength seems to kick in immediately; your own effort at pulling him away is trumped by his grip. 

“Why won’t you let me row? We’re both running away, you know that, right? It’s not just you.” You frown, leaning back into the wood framing of the boat. You can hear Ace exhale a single laugh. 

“The entire premise of your job is ‘hunting’ by the way, I hope you didn’t forget.” Despite the hours, he doesn’t seem the least bit exhausted. If anything, his exasperation seems to be coming due to you. “They’ve been trying to kill us for like, what, a few hundred years? They’re not stopping just because you’re with me now.” You frown at his words, bringing your knees to your chest. 

“... I don’t know how that relates to rowing a boat.” 

“Can’t let the hunter I marry get caught right after we get off the boat because they’re exhausted,” He laughs under his breath, waiting for your reply. When you don’t say anything, he’s quick to look up, your eyes trained on the nearby docks. It’s dark, so it’s hard to make out most people, but those with lanterns help you pick out any citizens.  

“... Yeah… Good point…” You clearly didn’t hear what he said, which is a relief for him. The quick boost of confidence he had in that moment dissipates as quickly as it appeared. You take off the hood of your uniform, draping it over Ace, bringing the fabric over his head. “All the holes in your body are way too obvious.” He lets you run your fingers all over his face and shoulders, allowing your warm hands to cover him. “If we’re going to get married, you should focus on them not finding you out first.” So you did hear him. 

“You’re such a brat…” He pouts, his scarred eye scrunching as he watches the water under the boat instead. 

“Me? You’re the one who’s saying we’re getting married.” 

“What? You don’t wanna?” His arms swing back and forth as you move farther from the docks at your side, successfully escaping any gazes that could see you two. He says it in such an unbothered way, you furrow your brows. 

“... I never said that.” 

“Ohh, now who’s getting all embarrassed?” It’s his turn to poke your cheek, temporarily stopping his rowing just to do so. “What? You just wanna get with me so bad.” He laughs at the way you tut at him, turning your head so you don't have to face him. “Aw, don’t worry, I won’t tell. Promise.” You expect him to continue his jabs, but instead, he falls quiet, rowing the paddles once more. “You should go without the hood more often. You don’t look as scary.” 

“I looked scary?” 

“Well, not really. I could’ve eaten you anytime. Doesn’t matter if you got a scary shadow look on your face.” 

“... Then what are you talking about?” 

“You look… Good… Without the hood.” … He’s so sincere with the way he says it, you’re at a loss for words. You pull your knees even closer to your chest, looking up at him through your hood. He’s right, it does cast a scary shadow, but for some reason, it’s not as horrifying when it’s on him. 

“Is this your way of buttering me up for the wedding?” 

“Oh, shut up.” He splashes water on you. He tuts at the way you laugh at him. Your laughs are quiet, courtesy of you attempting to not be caught despite being in the middle of nowhere. He prods at you with the wet end of the paddle. “I’m gonna bite you, I swear.” 

“You want me to be a zombie?” It’s meant to come out as a joke, but his face falls in a way that looks slightly mournful. Your laughter trails off. 

“... Nah. I wouldn’t put you through that,” he whispers. He continues to row into a new life. He’s lucked out to not feel things such as fatigue; if he did, he wouldn’t be able to do this for you. “I like the way you are right now.” He points his left ring finger up, putting the tip of it into his mouth before biting down. You immediately rush towards him, but instead, you’re met with him gifting his finger to you. “And you like me the way I am, too, yeah?” He’s gone back to that teasing voice, abandoning the temporary vulnerability he expressed mere seconds ago. 

“... Yeah yeah, whatever.” You hold his finger in your hand.

Break your bones, with all the love I carry. Keep you close, and one day we'll get married.

Your skin burns at the heat that surrounds you, your body tied to a tree as if you’re some witch. The fire doesn’t fully reach you, however, working as a warning instead. Though it reaches someone else. 

Ace looks on at the flames, unbothered at the sight. 

“In accordance with Sir Crowley's orders, you have the option to be relieved from your punishment in the case you—” You kick your feet at the hunter's words. 

“To hell with that! Tell that Crow bastard to go fuck himself…!” Despite your vulgar words, the hunter is undeterred, continuing the rest of the announcement. 

“In the case you execute the zombie you have subjected yourself to a romance with, you will be released from your sentence. In the case you do not, he will be burned, and you locked in the cellar for your life sentence. He notes that he hopes you choose the former, for you are his most valuable hunter.” 

His most valuable? Yeah right. The hell is he on about?

“Well, I’m not doing that.” You remain firm on your spot, sweat accumulating on your skin as the fire builds around you. If the fire doesn’t get to you, the fumes surely will. 

“I see. Please allow me to issue a sound execution—” The hunter is thrown from their spot on the floor, several others quickly gathering. The smoke that surrounds you is thick, making it difficult to make out the commotion in front of you. But you have a sense you know who’s the cause of such trouble. It doesn’t take much, considering some of the most renowned hunters in your field are being cast away at the side. You can hear him approaching you, but it sounds different than usual. A dagger cuts through the flames, piercing the tree behind you. It’s your own. The hilt is in a position where you could easily take hold of it to wield. The bindings that secure you gradually fall, but you can’t leave as the flames have grown too great. 

“Ace…! Ace—?” Your greeted by a semi familiar sight. Ace, and all his undead charm. But, his appearance is different, more violent… more… dark. 

He reminds you of when you first met in the Heartslaybul hospital. A true beast, one only capable of murder. 

His arm punches into the wood behind you, the bark splitting in half at the force. His eyes are wide open, his skin covered in soot and violence. Your hands find him, but he throws them off. You didn’t notice it before, but he looks hungry. No, he is hungry. 

“Ace…?” You whisper his name, but he remains silent, only heavily breathing on your shoulder. You look at him, your eyes gazing up and down his face before whispering. “... You can eat me.” He remains silent once more. “I don’t… Mind being like you.” You laugh at the irony. You don’t find it comical at all. 

“Yeah?” His face sounds slightly different, lower, rougher than it usually is. His hand takes yours, wrapping around it as he leans in. “You wanna be like me? You like me that much?” You don’t say anything, only nodding to his words. “Don’t say that.” 

“Why—?” 

“Because you’ll break my heart.” 

Your eyes widen when you feel the familiar sensation of digging your weapon into a monster. You don’t look down, fearing what you might see. You find yourself looking at Ace instead, His already empty eyes growing melancholy. It’s not enough to kill him; everyone knows that. But your own dagger holds the ability to cause pain for beings like him specifically, a dagger made for zombies. You attempt to pry it out before he feels anymore, but his own hand buries it deeper. 

“Wha—What are you doing?!” He doesn’t answer your question, only laughing as he steps back, closer to the flames. You attempt to pull him closer to you, away from such blazing heat. “Ace…?!” He fights against your hold, attempting to push himself in. 

“Don’t say that. I already told you.” His eyes, void of life, look at you, reflecting the abundance of vitality left in your future. A future he was robbed of. “I like you the way you are.” Through your tears, he forces one last push, your back hitting the tree as he falls into the fire. You can hear something faintly, but your tears overpower all of your senses. 

“My dear birdie really has flown the nest.” You can see Crowley beaming at you from the other side. You don’t look at him when he gives you his hand to help you out. 

… 

You remain sat on the other side of the table, awaiting Crowley to appear. 

“Seriously… When I’m late, he’ll lecture me on propriety…” Your arms are crossed as you lean back into the chair, Jack sitting next to you. He takes a sip of the tea on the table, handing you the cup to drink out of as well. When you finish, he gently places it back on the mahogany. 

“He’ll show up. Eventually…” Despite holding hope for your bosses eventual return, he seems just as fed up with the common occurrence of him not appearing. 

“He’s probably just gonna throw more work on us. We should go before—” You jump at the sound of the windows being crashed into, Jack already taking his weapon out before you can. When you look back, there’s nothing there. While there’s a chance of it simply being a bird, you know too well monsters always attempt to take over at any chance they have. You both look at each other once, before you flip out a blade, slowly approaching the glass, ready to open the window. You swing the panel open, awaiting a sudden jump, but instead, you’re met with nothing. “Maybe it really was just a bird…” 

“What’s that?” Jack points down at the window ledge, your gaze trailing down. In turn, you breath catches in your throat. 

A finger remains all alone, with only a ring on its skin.  

I'm gonna sell you my soul. When I get home, When I get home, When I get home.