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Bullied & Teased

PT.1 .

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] savanaclaw . octavinelle .

- [𝐩:𝐬] mentions of bulling ofc

Note: Here you guys go, part 2!!

Leona Kingscholar

Leona had been lounging under a tree, eyes half-closed in that trademark lazy way he had, when the sound of muffled voices broke through the calm afternoon. Something in the tone struck him as off, pulling him from his sloth-like rest. He glanced over toward the courtyard and spotted a few of his dormmates surrounding you, making cruel remarks.

His sharp golden eyes narrowed. The casualness vanished from his posture in an instant. Leona didn’t need to think twice. His pride burned at the sight of anyone daring to make you feel small.

“Oi, what do you think you’re doing?” Leona’s voice was deep, laced with an authority that demanded attention.

The bullies froze. They knew that tone. That was the voice of someone who didn’t tolerate nonsense, especially from those in his territory.

“Don’t you know better than to mess with her?” Leona’s growl was low and menacing. He stood up, taking a few deliberate steps toward them, his presence alone more than enough to make them shrink back.

Without waiting for their response, Leona flicked his tail, a signature move that signaled his growing frustration. “I’ll make this simple for you. If I ever catch you harassing her again, you’ll regret it. Now get out of my sight.”

The students scattered, nervously avoiding his gaze as they made their way off. Leona approached you, his usual indifference replaced by something softer but no less intense. He placed a hand gently on your shoulder, his voice quieter but still tinged with frustration. “You okay? Don’t let those idiots get to you.”

Jack Howl

Jack was just heading back from a training session, his body still warm from the exertion, when he heard the hushed whispers and laughter echoing through the hallway. His keen senses picked up on the situation immediately—you were being harassed by a couple of members from his own dorm.

His eyes narrowed instinctively, and the weight of his protective instincts kicked in without hesitation. The next thing he knew, he was marching towards the group, his jaw clenched, his wolf-like instincts taking charge.

“What’s going on here?” Jack’s voice was stern, and his posture was rigid. The bullies froze as they turned to face him. “You’ve got a problem with her, you’ve got a problem with me.”

The students stammered, not expecting the normally calm and composed Jack to confront them like this. His muscles tensed, and his eyes were sharp, a wolf’s protective gaze that left no room for doubt. Jack didn’t take threats lightly, especially when it came to the people he cared about.

“Listen up,” Jack said, his tone cold and unwavering. “If I hear any of you say another word to her, I’ll personally make sure you regret it. Got it?”

The bullies, now visibly intimidated, hurried off without a second glance. Jack turned to you, his expression softening immediately. “You alright? Don’t worry, they won’t bother you again. I’ll make sure of it.”

His protective nature was as solid as ever, his loyalty never in question. He offered you a warm, reassuring smile, making sure you knew you were safe.

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie had been watching the scene unfold from a distance, his usual mischievous grin replaced with a rare frown. He’d been hanging around, as he often did, waiting for a chance to lend a hand in some kind of scheme or get out of work. But when he saw you surrounded by a few of his own dormmates, teasing and making you uncomfortable, he felt his blood boil.

“Hey, hey, what’s all this?” Ruggie asked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. He walked over nonchalantly, hands in his pockets, but there was an edge to his voice that made the bullies hesitate.

“You all know better than to mess with my girl,” he continued, his voice sharp and his usual playful tone gone. Ruggie wasn’t one to cause trouble, but when it came to the people he cared about, that was a different story entirely.

The bullies exchanged uncertain glances, trying to figure out how to talk their way out of this. Ruggie didn’t give them the chance. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing into a sharp, calculating gaze.

“I don’t care if you’re from my dorm or not,” he said with a sly grin. “You ever make her feel like that again, and I’ll make sure it’s not just a few words you have to deal with. I know a lot of ways to make things uncomfortable for people, and I’ve got time.”

The bullies, now visibly nervous, quickly backed off. Ruggie didn’t move, watching them until they were out of sight. He turned back to you with a smirk, though his eyes were soft.

“You okay, princess?” he asked, his usual charm back in place. “Don’t let those jerks get under your skin. They don’t know who they're messing with when it comes to me.”

He gave you a playful nudge, trying to lighten the mood, but there was a genuine concern in his eyes. He might act like a troublemaker, but when it came to protecting the people he cared about, there was no one more fiercely loyal than Ruggie.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had been going over business plans in his office when the sound of raised voices reached his ears. Frowning, he adjusted his glasses and stood, curiosity piqued. When he made his way down the hall, he froze at the sight of a few of his dormmates laughing cruelly at you, their words laced with mockery.

Azul's expression darkened, his normally composed and charming demeanor shifting to something far colder. His blue eyes narrowed as he made his way toward the scene, his voice smooth but carrying a dangerous edge.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” Azul’s voice was sweet, but there was no mistaking the venom in it. “Is this really how you behave in my dorm?”

The bullies stammered, clearly uncomfortable under Azul's cold gaze. He leaned in, his sharp smile growing as he continued. “You seem to have forgotten your place. I’m sure I don’t need to remind you how things work around here.” His voice dropped lower, more threatening now. “You’ve disrespected someone I care about. And that, my dear students, will not go unpunished.”

The bullies took a few steps back, clearly intimidated by the power Azul wielded, both in charm and authority. With a final, scornful glance, they hurried off.

Azul turned to you, his expression softening instantly, though his usual polite smile never quite reached his eyes. “Are you alright, my dear? I do apologize for those imbeciles. Rest assured, I’ll be taking care of them.” His voice was still warm, but there was a glint in his eyes—a promise of retribution, one that made it clear no one would dare cross you again under his watch.

Jade Leech

Jade had been nearby, observing with his usual calm detachment, when he noticed a group of his dormmates bothering you. His eyes glinted, and his ever-present smile slowly turned into something more sinister. Jade wasn’t the type to rush into confrontation, but when it came to protecting someone he cared about, he knew exactly how to handle things with precision.

He approached the group with deliberate slowness, his presence unnerving in its calmness. “My, my... what’s all this commotion about?” His voice was smooth, almost playful, but there was an underlying chill to it.

The bullies looked over at him, hesitating as they noticed the dangerous edge to his demeanor. Jade’s eyes twinkled, his smile widening ever so slightly as he studied them. “I’d recommend you leave now, before this becomes more... unpleasant.”

The group of students shifted nervously, unsure of how to react to Jade’s composed threat. They knew all too well that his reputation for handling things with a calm, calculating approach was nothing to be underestimated.

“You wouldn’t want to make things worse for yourself, now would you?” Jade continued, his voice laced with a subtle threat. “I’d suggest you apologize to her and then go. Quickly.”

The bullies, now visibly shaken, murmured apologies and hurried off, not wanting to risk facing Jade’s wrath. Jade turned to you, his smile returning to its usual charming self. “Are you unharmed, darling? I must admit, I find it rather distasteful when people forget their manners. Rest assured, I’ll ensure they don’t bother you again.”

Floyd Leech

Floyd had been slinking around the dorm, looking for something—anything—to spice up his day. So when he saw a group of his dormmates picking on you, he couldn’t help but grin, a dark glint flashing in his eyes. This was exactly the kind of entertainment he’d been waiting for.

“Hey, hey! What’s going on here, huh?” Floyd's voice was upbeat, but the undertone of menace in his words was clear as he sauntered over, his long limbs stretching out in exaggerated, predatory motions.

The bullies froze, taken aback by Floyd’s sudden appearance. His smile was wide, but it didn’t reach his eyes—it was all teeth and malice. “What’s the matter, did you think you could have some fun at her expense? Bad idea, real bad idea.”

Floyd’s grin widened, and he took a step closer to the bullies, his playful energy suddenly turning dark. “I could have a lot of fun with this, but I think I’d rather have a little chat with you about respect. How about it?”

The students looked nervously between each other, unsure whether to stand their ground or back off. But Floyd was already moving too fast for them to react, stepping closer and putting a hand on one of their shoulders. “If I ever catch you messing with my girl again, I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do.”

The bullies quickly muttered apologies, stumbling away in a panic. Floyd watched them go, chuckling lightly to himself, before turning to you with his usual mischievous grin.

“You okay, sweetie?” Floyd asked, his tone much softer now, though there was still a gleam of excitement in his eyes. “You looked a little bored with them, so I had to step in. Don’t worry, I won’t let anyone pick on you. Not while I’m around.”

His wild grin returned as he ruffled your hair. “Let me know if you ever want me to spice things up again. I’m always ready for a little fun!”

THE TWST4 KOMA😭😭

"Go to bed" ruggies face while counting the madols look devious lmao

POOR JACK BUT ALSO THATS SO CUTE😭😭

Also i need to point out how GORGEOUS vil is in this comic this month like yasss queen

RUGGIE NO DONT EAT THEM

love how cute jack is

Also ruggie wrong lyrics

Evryone here is a freak,its not even shocking anymore

NEW REACTION IMAGE: ACQUIRED

Betraying the Gods in Three Easy Steps || Malleus Draconia

Step 1: Befriend the Demon King.

Step 2: Fall in love.

Step 3: Quit your hero job.

The first thing you learned upon being chosen as the hero was that the gods were, in fact, morons.

This revelation came to you as you stood in their grand celestial court, bathed in holy light, staring at the pantheon of divine beings who had just bestowed upon you a sword that actively whispered threats into your ear.

"Go forth, O Chosen One," boomed the god of war, his six eyes burning with sacred fire. "You must slay the Demon King who lurks in his cursed lair atop the Black Hills!"

You shifted your weight and cleared your throat. "Okay, so... question. Just a tiny one. What, exactly, has the Demon King done?"

The gods exchanged glances.

"He is evil," the goddess of fate offered.

"Uh-huh. Examples?"

"He... exists," the god of light said, waving a golden hand vaguely.

There was an awkward silence. You rubbed your temples. "Right. But, like, has he pillaged villages? Enslaved kingdoms? Kicked a puppy?"

"He has refused to die despite our many attempts to kill him," the god of judgment said gravely.

You squinted. "So you're mad that he’s alive."

"YES," they all said in unison.

Fantastic. You had been chosen to carry out a divine grudge match.

Still, you weren’t in any position to argue. The gods had given you a bunch of ridiculously overpowered artifacts, including a holy sword, an indestructible shield, and a cloak that supposedly made you invisible but mostly just made you look like a very blurry ghost. They also kind of expected you to die like all the previous heroes, but that was a problem for later.

So here you were, standing at the edge of the Black Hills, staring up at the Demon King’s lair—a suspiciously well-maintained castle that looked less like a fortress of darkness and more like the summer home of someone who enjoyed gardening.

This whole thing reeked of bureaucracy.

With a deep sigh, you tightened your grip on your murderously sentient sword and marched forward, fully prepared to commit deicide if this entire mission turned out to be as dumb as you suspected.

You had braced yourself for a dark, ominous fortress filled with twisted creatures, rivers of lava, and at least one chandelier made of bones. Instead, you walked into what could only be described as a cozy study.

The room was warm, lit by a fireplace that crackled gently in the corner. Tall bookshelves lined the walls, filled with neatly arranged tomes, some of which looked suspiciously like romance novels. A tea set rested on the table, next to an open book. And sitting in an armchair, casually flipping through the pages, was a man.

A very tall, very elegant man with sharp green eyes and black horns curling from his head.

He blinked at you, clearly just as surprised as you were. "Oh," he said. "Hello."

You stared at him. "Uh. Hi?"

There was a long pause. He looked at your very dramatic hero attire, then at the glimmering, divinely blessed sword in your hand, then back at you. "I assume you’re here for a reason?"

You shifted uncomfortably. "Yeah, so, the gods sent me to kill the Demon King, but like… lowkey? I don’t know what he looks like."

The man nodded, as if this was a completely reasonable statement. "I see." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Would you like some tea?"

You squinted at him. "I feel like you’re not taking this whole ‘assassination attempt’ thing very seriously."

"Should I?" he asked, pouring tea into a cup with unnerving grace. "You don't seem particularly invested in it yourself."

You couldn't exactly argue with that, so you sat down, placing your god-blessed weapon awkwardly on your lap. The man slid a cup toward you. The tea smelled… nice. Suspiciously nice. You sniffed it. "This isn’t, like, drugged or cursed, is it?"

He looked amused. "Only if you consider chamomile a powerful sedative."

You took a cautious sip. It was delicious.

"So," he said, leaning his chin on his hand. "Tell me about the outside world. It’s been a while since I last left these hills."

You shrugged. "Nothing much. The gods are idiots, as usual."

His lips curled in interest. "Oh?"

You leaned forward conspiratorially. "Okay, so get this. When they summoned me, they gave me this holy sword, right?" You tapped the weapon resting on your lap. "Only problem? It won’t shut up. The gods literally forgot to turn off its voice function, so now it just screams battle cries at all hours of the day. I had to wrap it in three layers of cloth just to get some sleep."

He let out a chuckle, eyes gleaming. "That is… incredible."

"Right? And that’s not even the worst part. The god of wisdom—actual title, by the way—accidentally set fire to their own temple last year because they miscalculated a lightning spell. They blamed it on ‘mystical forces’ but everyone knows they just got their math wrong."

The man—who, now that you were really looking at him, was ridiculously attractive in a dark-and-mysterious way—laughed. It was a rich, deep sound, the kind of laugh that made you feel like you’d just told the best joke in the world.

You grinned, feeling oddly comfortable. "Oh, and don’t even get me started on the god of fate. She got into a brawl with the god of harvest because she made a prophecy that all the wheat fields would burn down, and then the god of harvest was like, ‘You know that’s literally my job, right?’ and cursed her with hay fever. Now she sneezes every time she tries to predict the future."

Your new tea-drinking companion actually had to cover his mouth to stifle his laughter.

You took another sip of tea, feeling very proud of yourself. "Anyway," you said, stretching your arms. "By the way, have you seen the Demon King? Because, like, technically, I’m still supposed to be doing that job."

The man calmly pointed to himself.

You stared at him.

He stared back.

You blinked. "I'm sorry. What."

"Malleus Draconia," he said, setting his teacup down with the kind of elegance that made you feel like an unwashed peasant. "And you are?"

You were still reeling from the realization that you had spent the last half hour drinking tea with the exact person you were supposed to kill, so it took you a second to answer. You introduce yourself. "Hero chosen by the gods. Here to, you know…" You made a vague stabbing motion.

Malleus nodded, completely unfazed. "Ah. Yes. That would explain the weaponry." He glanced at your holy sword, which had mercifully remained silent for the past few minutes. "Though, I must say, you don’t seem particularly enthusiastic about your mission."

You sighed and set your cup down. "Yeah, well. I don’t really get why the gods have it out for you. I mean, do you actually do evil stuff? Are you stealing souls? Raising the dead? Kicking puppies?"

Malleus tilted his head, considering. "No, no, and—well, I suppose there was one incident with a puppy, but in my defense, I was trying to return it to its owner, and it misunderstood my intentions."

"That’s a really vague way to say 'I accidentally terrified it.'"

He sipped his tea, saying nothing.

You squinted at him. "So you’re telling me the gods declared a holy crusade against you for… what? Vibes?"

Malleus shrugged. "I assume so. They don’t seem to like my existence very much."

"Wow. Must be nice not giving a shit."

"It is quite freeing," he agreed. "Would you like a tour?"

You blinked. "A tour? Of your evil lair?"

"My home," he corrected, as if you were the unreasonable one. "I assume you have never seen it before."

"You assume correctly." You rubbed your chin. "Eh. What the hell. Show me around, mighty Demon King."

And so, instead of assassinating him, you spent the next hour wandering through the halls of his "evil lair" (read: very fancy castle), learning about his book collection, admiring the admittedly cool-looking stained-glass windows, and getting distracted by a particularly fluffy cat lounging on one of the rugs.

Somewhere along the way, you had fallen into easy conversation, sharing more absurd stories about the gods’ incompetence while Malleus listened with increasing amusement. You barely even noticed how natural it felt, how quickly you forgot the whole "mortal enemies" thing.

It wasn’t until you were about to leave that you remembered why you had come in the first place.

"Ah, right," you said, gripping the hilt of your holy sword. "The whole… uh, slaying thing."

Malleus lifted an eyebrow.

You exhaled and held the sword out to him. "Here. Take this."

He looked at you, then at the sword, then back at you. "You are giving me your divine weapon?"

"Look, man, I don’t know if you can tell, but I am very bad at this job."

Malleus took the sword, examining it with mild curiosity. The moment his fingers curled around the hilt, the weapon, which had remained blissfully quiet all day, suddenly came to life.

"FOUL BEAST! UNHAND ME AT ONCE—"

Malleus flicked his wrist, and the sword immediately went silent.

You gaped at him. "You can do that?!"

He hummed. "It appears so."

You put your hands on your hips. "You know what? Yeah. You can keep it. I don’t want it anymore."

Malleus smiled. "How generous of you."

You waved him off and turned toward the exit. "Anyway, this has been fun and all, but I should probably get going before the gods smite me for treason. I’ll, uh… I’ll get the job done next time."

Malleus watched you with that same unreadable expression, something like quiet amusement playing at the edges of his lips. "Of course. Next time."

You nodded, totally believing yourself, and left.

The gods were getting suspicious.

You could tell by the way they kept summoning you more frequently, their celestial faces lined with divine skepticism, their glowing, omnipotent eyes narrowing just a little more each time you gave your mission report.

So you did what any responsible, chosen-by-the-heavens hero would do: you doubled down on the lies.

“I’m gathering intel on the enemy.”

A few gods murmured in approval, nodding at your strategic foresight.

(The truth? You had spent the last four days sprawled across an absolutely sinful couch in Malleus’s absurdly cozy castle, debating whether a dragon could, theoretically, play the lute. Malleus had very strong opinions about claw dexterity and string tension. You were just trying to figure out how to smuggle the couch home.)

“I need to study his weaknesses.”

More nods. One god even stroked their beard, looking impressed.

(The reality? You were currently studying how many cookies you could consume before he started looking mildly concerned for your well-being. The number was high. Concerningly high. You were probably committing a sin against your own digestive system, but that was Future You’s problem.)

“He’s probably planning something evil, so I need to keep an eye on him.”

Now the gods were practically glowing with approval. One clapped you on the back, nearly knocking you off your feet.

(Meanwhile, in the demon king’s lair, Malleus was sitting in his massive library, sipping tea like a distinguished nobleman who had never even considered jaywalking, much less world domination. At one point, he sighed dramatically and looked out the window, the very picture of a wistful poet pondering the meaning of life. You had watched him do this for ten whole minutes, waiting for a sign of villainy. Nothing. The man was the least demonic demon king you had ever seen.)

The gods, thoroughly convinced that you were hard at work, dismissed you with a vague warning to “stay vigilant” and “not fall for any demonic tricks.”

You barely made it back to the castle before collapsing onto your new favorite couch with a groan. “They think I’m doing such a good job,” you mumbled, stuffing another cookie into your mouth. “I could probably ask for a raise.”

Malleus looked up from his book, amusement dancing in his emerald eyes. “A raise? What exactly would they be paying you for?”

“For my noble heroism,” you said around a mouthful of cookie. “My unwavering dedication. My strategic mind. My—” You gestured vaguely. “—efforts.”

Malleus hummed, setting his book aside. “Ah, yes. Your valiant efforts. Lounging on my furniture. Eating my desserts. Entertaining me with tales of divine incompetence.”

You wagged a finger at him. “You say that like it isn’t an important job.”

He smirked. “Oh, I quite enjoy your company. But I do wonder how long you plan to keep up this charade.”

“As long as I can,” you said without hesitation, grabbing another cookie. “At this point, I think I deserve an award for Best Hero in the Field of Procrastination.”

Malleus chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he watched you with what was definitely, absolutely, 100% not fondness. Probably. “Indeed.”

Getting Malleus out of his lair was easier than expected. Getting him to wear the disguise, however, was a battle of wills.

“It is absurd,” he said flatly, staring at the comically large hat in your hands.

“Absurdly effective,” you countered.

“It looks like it belongs to a—”

“Fashion icon?”

“A cursed scarecrow,” he finished, unimpressed.

“Okay, rude. But listen, if you walk into town looking like that—” you gestured vaguely at his horns, “—people will either think you're about to declare war or host a very dramatic poetry reading. The hat helps.”

Malleus gave you a long, contemplative look, then, to your eternal delight, sighed and took the hat. It sat atop his head with the solemn dignity of a royal crown, though the sheer size of it made him look like he was about to start selling potions out of a roadside wagon.

“Very well,” he declared. “Let us proceed.”

Thus began the grand adventure of sneaking the Demon King into town.

Turns out, no one even noticed.

Which, to be fair, was kind of expected. This was a town where a man once tried to pay his taxes in live chickens and where the local bard wore sunglasses at night “because it added to his mystique.” Some guy in a huge hat? Not even in the top ten weirdest things people had seen this week.

Still, you felt an odd sense of pride as you dragged Malleus through the bustling streets. The Demon King, who had spent untold centuries isolated in his ominous gothic estate, was now watching a juggler toss flaming batons while a street vendor tried to sell you “cursed amulets” that were clearly just painted rocks.

He was fascinated.

His first stop was the bakery, where he became personally and spiritually invested in the concept of croissants.

“These are quite remarkable,” he murmured, carefully inspecting the flaky layers. “It is as if the very essence of light and air has been woven into dough.”

“You’re making it sound way fancier than it is,” you snorted. “It’s just bread.”

“A divine bread,” he corrected.

“You’re literally a demon.”

“I can still appreciate divinity when I taste it.”

Next, you took him to the bookstore, where he spent an unreasonable amount of time debating which tomes to purchase. At one point, you caught him flipping through something called One Hundred and One Curses to Ensure Your Enemies Remember You Fondly, which felt both deeply specific and incredibly on-brand.

While he was distracted by a book of poetry so dramatic it might as well have been personally written for him, you slipped away for a moment. A nearby flower stall caught your eye, and on impulse, you picked up a delicate bloom, its color strikingly similar to Malleus’s eyes.

You returned just as he was still deep in thought over which book to buy. Without a second thought, you reached up and tucked the flower behind his ear.

Malleus froze.

His expression didn’t change immediately—he just stared at you, his usual unreadable gaze flickering with something… complicated. His fingers hesitantly brushed against the petals, and for a moment, he looked genuinely baffled, as if no one had ever done something like this before.

You grinned at him. “Looks good on you, Your Evilness.”

Malleus exhaled a short, amused huff. “I must admit, I do not often receive accessories from my sworn enemies.”

“Sounds like a you problem,” you said, already dragging him towards the next store. “Now come on, I still need to introduce you to the single greatest achievement of human civilization.”

He tilted his head, intrigue sparking in his expression. “Oh?”

“Fried food.”

For the first time in centuries, the Demon King of Darkness, Terror of the Gods, Eternal Wielder of Unholy Power… was genuinely excited.

You were not bringing Malleus more books because you liked him. Obviously. That would be ridiculous. You were simply executing a strategic maneuver—an information-gathering mission, if you will. The more books he had, the more he would talk, and the more he talked, the more you learned.

This was all very professional. A tactical decision. Absolutely nothing to do with the way his eyes lit up whenever you brought him something new or the fact that you may or may not have started associating his lair with peace instead of doom.

So, with arms full of books that were definitely not handpicked to match his interests (including one on celestial phenomena, which was coincidental and not an attempt to make him happy), you strolled into his lair like you owned the place.

And that was when you met him.

Lilia Vanrouge.

You knew the name. You’d heard it whispered in the temples, spoken with the kind of reverence usually reserved for plagues and natural disasters. The Scourge of the Battlefield. The War Demon. The Dark General Who Consumed Kingdoms Whole.

You had also heard it from Malleus, who described him as eccentric, mischievous, and one of the few people he respected.

And the moment you laid eyes on him, you realized once again that the gods were complete and utter morons.

Because standing before you was not a nightmarish harbinger of destruction. No, the man currently floating upside down in the air, cheerfully snacking on something, looked more like an impish uncle who would absolutely teach children how to commit tax fraud for fun.

He looked at you. You looked at him. He grinned. You immediately braced for impact.

“Well, well! So you’re the fabled Chosen Hero,” Lilia chirped, righting himself mid-air and landing gracefully before you. “How fascinating! I was wondering when you’d show up.”

“I—” you began.

“I must say, this is not what I expected!” he continued, completely ignoring you. “From what I’ve heard, heroes usually barge in with righteous fury, divine proclamations, and very little self-preservation! Yet here you are, standing in the Demon King’s domain, casually handing him books.”

You turned to Malleus, who looked completely unbothered, still examining the latest tome you had brought him. “You told him?”

Malleus, without looking up: “He asked.”

You turned back to Lilia. “And you’re not freaking out?”

Lilia tilted his head, amused. “Should I be?”

“I don’t know, I just assumed one of Malleus’s generals would take issue with me being, you know, the divinely ordained slayer of your king?”

Lilia snorted. “Oh, please. Do you have any idea how many so-called ‘heroes’ I’ve seen storm in here? You’re already my favorite.”

“…Thanks?”

“Of course! It’s just so refreshing to see one of you actually using your head for once.” He floated up again, upside down, resting his chin on his hands. “Though I must admit, I was expecting something a little more… impressive.”

You blinked. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lilia smirked and gestured to the table where you and Malleus had been previously engaged in very serious discussions. Your stomach dropped. You had left out your papers.

Specifically, the ones where you had been doodling different armor designs and asking Malleus for his fashion advice.

Malleus, the traitor, casually picked one up. “I am partial to this one,” he said, holding up a particularly elaborate sketch. “The embroidery detailing is quite striking.”

Lilia laughed.

You buried your face in your hands as the War Demon, the Living Nightmare of the Battlefield, the Eternal Scourge of Kingdoms—wiped away tears of laughter over the fact that instead of slaying the Demon King, you had apparently made him your personal stylist.

It was, all things considered, not your proudest moment.

It had been months since you first stepped foot into Malleus’s lair, and, well… things had progressed.

Not in the way the gods wanted, obviously. If they had their way, Malleus’s severed head would be mounted on a sacred altar by now. Technically, you were still on your holy mission to vanquish the Demon King. Technically, you were gathering information. Technically, you had every intention of fulfilling your duty.

But, if one were to take a completely unbiased look at your current situation… it might appear that you were just hanging out.

A lot.

Like, a lot, a lot.

Malleus now made your drink exactly the way you liked it—sometimes before you even asked. You didn’t even have to tell him anymore. You’d wander into his lair after a long day of doing absolutely nothing related to demon slaying, and he’d already have your favorite drink ready, at the exact right temperature.

And you? You, the so-called “Divine Champion of Justice,” the god-appointed warrior of destiny? You had, against all logic and reason, started bringing him gifts. It wasn’t even a conscious decision at first. But every time a merchant came through town, you found yourself idly picking up little trinkets or books that looked like they’d interest him.

You told yourself it was just diplomacy. A strategic bribery effort. It had absolutely nothing to do with how much you enjoyed seeing his face light up whenever you presented him with something new.

You weren’t even sure when the shift had happened.

One day, you were the brave hero, standing before the terrifying Demon King with divine orders to smite him. And now? Now, you were practically living in his lair. Casually.

You’d gotten comfortable here, a fact that you refused to acknowledge out loud. Malleus’s lair was peaceful, quiet, and—to your horror—pleasant. The enormous gothic windows, the soft candlelight, the bookshelves stacked high with ancient tomes… It was all just so much nicer than the gods’ temples, which were always cold, sterile, and filled with divine bureaucrats who asked too many questions.

And worse—worse—when you weren’t here, you were usually thinking about what to do for Malleus next.

Should you bring him something from the next merchant caravan? Maybe take him to another festival? He liked those. Maybe introduce him to the weird little bakery in town that sold those oddly-shaped pastries you kept seeing. He might find them amusing.

You were planning surprises for him.

Like a friend.

No. Not just a friend.

A best friend.

You slammed your head onto the nearest table with a thud.

The gods could never find out about this.

You were having an existential crisis. A real one. The kind that made you stare at your reflection in a soup bowl and wonder if you had any meaningful purpose in life beyond being the divine equivalent of a glorified errand runner.

Lilia, of course, noticed. Because he was an agent of chaos and probably fed off emotional turmoil like some sort of tiny, ancient demon bat.

“You seem troubled,” he had said, watching as you slumped dramatically over Malleus’ very fancy dining table, exhaling the world’s most pitiful sigh. “Why don’t you and Malleus spar?”

Your head lifted slightly. “What?”

Lilia smirked, clearly pleased that he had successfully baited you out of your misery. “It’s been months, has it not? If the gods ask, you can tell them you’ve been honing your skills, preparing for the final battle.”

That… actually wasn’t a bad excuse. The gods had been getting nosy again, demanding updates. Maybe you could make this work.

Which was how you ended up here.

Standing in the grand, sprawling courtyard of Malleus’ lair, stretching out your limbs while he calmly removed his cloak, draping it over a bench like he was about to have a casual stroll instead of engaging in combat.

“You sure about this?” you asked, gripping the hilt of your sword.

Malleus tilted his head, looking amused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You smirked. “Just saying, if I win, I demand tribute.”

Malleus chuckled. “And if I win?”

“… Let’s cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Lilia was off to the side, grinning like this was the best form of entertainment he’d seen in centuries.

You inhaled deeply, grounding yourself. Okay. This was it. You were going to fight the Demon King, and it was going to be serious. No more cozy tea parties. No more lighthearted book shopping trips. It was time to—

“Would you like me to go easy on you?” Malleus asked.

You scoffed. “Pfft. No. Give me everything you’ve got.”

Malleus hummed, looking almost pleased at your confidence. “Very well.”

And then, without warning, he disappeared from sight.

You barely had time to register the movement before a gust of wind slammed into you at full force, sending you flying backwards like a poorly thrown ragdoll.

You crashed into a bush.

For a moment, you just lay there, staring at the sky, contemplating every choice that had led you to this moment.

Then, groaning, you rolled out of the shrubbery, shaking off the twigs as you picked up your sword. “Okay,” you muttered, adjusting your grip. “That was just a warm-up round.”

Malleus was still standing in the same spot, looking entirely unbothered.

And his hands were behind his back.

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you—” You took a deep breath. “Are you fighting me with your hands behind your back?"

“Of course,” Malleus said pleasantly. “You told me not to go easy on you.”

You could hear Lilia choking on laughter in the background.

You squinted at Malleus, wondering if you should feel honored or insulted.

Fine. You could work with this. You charged again, ducking low, aiming for his legs. A flicker of green magic intercepted you, sending a harmless but powerful shockwave that knocked your weapon out of your hands.

You stared at your empty hands.

Malleus looked mildly impressed. “Good attempt.”

You retrieved your sword. Tried again. And again. And again.

Malleus never used his hands. Never lifted a finger. He just sidestepped your attacks with casual ease, occasionally flicking his magic at you, like you were a mildly annoying housecat trying to pounce on a much larger, much more powerful predator.

Somewhere along the way, you stopped trying to win and just started having fun.

And then, eventually, your energy gave out. You collapsed onto the ground, spread-eagled, arms outstretched, staring up at the sky as you caught your breath.

Malleus stepped closer, looming over you with an expression you couldn’t quite read.

“I do believe you’re my favorite hero,” he mused.

You groaned and slapped a hand over your face.

The gods were going to kill you if they ever found out about this.

You couldn’t sleep.

Which was fine. Heroes probably weren’t supposed to sleep. Heroes were supposed to lie awake at night, tormented by the burden of their destiny, haunted by the weight of their mission, plagued by—

"What if I let him win?"

You bolted upright so fast you nearly knocked yourself unconscious on your headrest. You slapped a hand over your mouth like you had just spoken a heresy so foul the gods would strike you down immediately.

That was not a normal thought for a hero to have. That was the most absurd, blasphemous, outrageous, morally reprehensible—

"Am I technically dating the Demon King???"

NO. NO NO NO NO NO NO—

Your hands went to your temples. You squeezed your eyes shut. Maybe if you just thought hard enough, you could physically remove this thought from your brain. Or maybe, if you focused, the gods would finally smite you like they had always threatened to do.

You flopped back down onto your mattress, dragging a pillow over your face, as if that would smother the absolute nonsense your mind was generating tonight. But the problem was, now that the thought had entered your brain, it had built a home there. It had a mailbox. It was paying taxes. And now it was decorating with even worse thoughts.

Because now you were remembering the way Malleus had smiled when you let him talk for two whole hours about gargoyles. How his eyes had lit up like you were the first person to ever listen. The way he carefully, deliberately made your tea exactly how you liked it, as if he had memorized it from the very first time. The way he always tilted his head when he listened to you, genuinely fascinated by even the stupidest things you said.

The way he let you exist in his space. Not as an enemy. Not as a hero. But as…

… oh no.

OH NO.

You slapped a hand over your mouth again. Your other hand clenched into the sheets like you were physically trying to hold onto your sanity.

You were NOT—this was NOT—

You rolled over, kicking your legs violently under the covers. Maybe if you shook your entire body hard enough, you could dislodge this thought from existence. Yeet it into the void. Purge it from reality. But all that happened was that you pulled a muscle in your back and now you were lying there, in agony, emotionally and physically, because you were starting to realize something terrible.

You weren’t just fond of Malleus. You didn’t just enjoy his company.

You liked him.

You LIKED him.

YOU LIKED THE DEMON KING.

You sat up again, legs crossed, hands clasped together in front of you. “Dear gods,” you whispered, voice trembling, “please smite me where I sit. I have failed you.”

Nothing happened.

“…Cowards,” you muttered.

You flopped back down, staring at the ceiling in pure despair.

You were going to bed. You were going to sleep, and when you woke up, you would not be in love with the Demon King. You would be normal. You would be reasonable. You would be a good hero.

You closed your eyes.

Five seconds passed.

You opened them again.

Gods help me.

Literally.

You were having the time of your goddamn life.

Malleus' lair—again, as usual. You were halfway draped across his lap, leisurely popping fruit into your mouth while Lilia spun some absolutely deranged tale about the time he tricked a king into believing he was a vengeful forest spirit. Malleus sipped his tea, vaguely amused, and you? You laughed so hard you nearly choked on a grape.

The atmosphere? Immaculate. Life? Good. Everything? Perfection.

And then the door SLAMMED open.

You flinched so hard you nearly tumbled off Malleus’ lap. The tea cups rattled. The room’s easygoing tension evaporated as you stared at the figure in the doorway—some guy, just some guy—storming in with his sword drawn, looking like he was about to say the most dramatic thing you’d ever heard in your life.

“I HAVE COME TO SLAY YOU, DEMON KING—”

He stopped.

Because you—the actual hero—were very much not slaying the Demon King. You were, instead, sprawled across him like a spoiled house cat, eating his fruit and giggling like an idiot.

A horrifically long pause followed as this budget hero—who was not chosen by the gods, by the way—took in the scene.

Scrambling upright, you waved your hands frantically. “This—this is not what it looks like—”

“It is exactly what it looks like,” Lilia corrected, taking a dainty sip of tea. “Please, continue.”

Budget Hero looked insulted. Absolutely offended. “You—you’re supposed to be a hero! You’re supposed to be fighting him, not—” He gestured at you and Malleus with a face of pure betrayal. “—whatever this is!”

Panic surged. “I am fighting him!”

Budget Hero squinted.

You cleared your throat. “It’s just—” A vague gesture at Malleus. “A mental battle.”

Lilia snickered. Malleus lifted a brow, deeply entertained.

Budget Hero wasn’t buying it. His face hardened with righteous fury as he turned his sword back on Malleus. “No matter! If the gods will not choose a proper hero to strike you down, then I shall—”

And that’s when it happened.

Before Malleus could even think about obliterating him, you moved first. Instinctively. Violently. Viscerally.

Budget Hero never saw it coming. His weapon went flying in a single fluid motion, and before he could process it, he was done. Just absolutely demolished.

Silence.

Then:

Lilia. Wheezing. “Oh, that was brutal.”

You stared down at Budget Hero’s crumpled form, still gripping your weapon, stunned.

Because here’s the thing. That wasn’t a calculated attack. It wasn’t self-defense. It wasn’t even to protect Malleus, exactly.

It was pure, unfiltered spite.

Who did this guy think he was? Marching in, sword drawn, acting like he was Malleus’ sworn enemy? That was your job. Your dynamic. The thought of anyone else trying to take that place—trying to take any place in Malleus’ life that wasn’t yours—was so disgusting, so offensive, that your body moved before your brain did.

…Oh no.

Quickly sheathing your weapon, you coughed into your fist. “Welp. That’s enough murder for today! I should get going!”

Malleus blinked at you, unbothered. “You only just arrived.”

Lilia, still recovering from laughter, wiped a tear from his eye. “Stay! We haven’t even finished discussing your new armor—”

“Nope!” You laughed—too forcefully. “Nooope! I just—I have to, uh—cleanse myself. Spiritually. From, um. Today’s events.”

Malleus tilted his head, intrigued. “You’ve killed before, haven’t you?”

You sweat. “Yeah, but this one was just, uh, really emotionally charged. You know how it is.”

Lilia’s grin was so knowing it made you ill. “Do we?”

You needed to leave immediately.

“Anyway, see you later, besties!” Backing toward the door, you threw up a hand. “Malleus, you’re great, Lilia, you’re also great, I’m normal, and definitely not in any sort of crisis! Bye!”

And then you fled. Like a coward.

You had been avoiding him.

Technically speaking, you had only been gone for a week. But considering you usually barged into his lair daily—arms full of books, or pastries, or some weird trinket you thought he’d like—it was an absence that did not go unnoticed.

After all, you had never run before.

Even when you first met him, when you had been sent to kill him, you had walked right up to him and said, "Hey, so the gods told me to kill you, but honestly, I don’t feel like it." And he had smiled, slow and intrigued, and offered you tea. That had been the beginning of everything.

You had stayed. You always stayed.

But yesterday, after that absolute disaster of an encounter with that third-rate hero, after watching yourself cut him down before Malleus could even lift a hand, after realizing with gut-wrenching horror that you had reacted viscerally to the mere idea of someone else claiming that they were destined to fight him, to be his rival, you had fled.

Because what the fuck did that mean?

Because why had your stomach turned in disgust at the thought of someone else standing in your place?

Because you had looked at Malleus, and something inside you had snarled mine, and the weight of that realization had nearly knocked you off your feet.

So you ran.

Cowardly. Embarrassing. You, the so-called chosen hero, the one who had spent months dragging Malleus through town, shoving hats over his horns, feeding him sweet treats, listening to him ramble about gargoyles with the fondest expression on your face—you had panicked and run away like a flustered maiden in a fairytale.

You didn’t even have the excuse of battle wounds. The only wounds were entirely self-inflicted, entirely emotional, and entirely stupid.

So today, after daysof pacing and telling yourself to get it together, you forced yourself to return.

You spent the entire week gaslighting yourself into thinking nothing happened.

That reaction? Not weird. You were just… caught off guard! Maybe a tiny bit possessive. Maybe incredibly deranged about Malleus to the point where you instinctively obliterated someone for even thinking about taking your role as his arch-nemesis—but that was normal. That was just healthy rival dynamics!

So when you walked into Malleus’ lair the next week, it was with the confidence of someone absolutely not having a mental breakdown over their supposed mortal enemy.

“Yo,” you greeted, hands in your pockets, a casual whistle leaving your lips. “What’s up, big guy? Ready for some classic, good old-fashioned, not-at-all suspicious hero vs. villain conflict today?”

No answer.

It was silent. Too silent.

Usually, Lilia was there to greet you with some teasing remark. Usually, Malleus could sense you the moment you entered his territory, and you’d be met with a soft “You’ve returned.” Usually, there was some kind of warmth, a quiet hum of life in these ancient halls.

But today, there was only cold stone.

Your stomach twisted as you searched for him.

You found him by one of the enormous windows, hands clasped behind his back, staring at the sky with an expression you’d never seen before. His shoulders—usually poised with an almost arrogant regality—were slack. His jaw, tight. His eyes, distant.

For the first time since you met him, he looked exhausted.

“…Malleus?”

Your voice came out softer than you expected. Almost hesitant. As if part of you already knew what he was about to say.

He didn’t turn, didn’t shift, didn’t react right away. Just stood there, gazing out at the vast horizon like he was searching for something.

Finally, after a long, slow exhale, he spoke.

“…I thought you weren’t coming back.”

Your breath caught.

You had been gone for a week. You figured skipping a few visits wouldn’t matter much. That you could collect yourself, sort out whatever this was, and return once you weren’t a flustered disaster.

But standing here now, staring at him, it hit you just how much he had felt your absence.

His fingers curled a little tighter behind his back. His voice, barely above a whisper—

“If someone were to kill me,” he murmured, “I think I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

The breath whooshed out of your lungs.

Because suddenly, you understood.

He wasn’t just speaking in hypotheticals. He wasn’t musing about battle. He wasn’t challenging you, wasn’t provoking you, wasn’t setting the stage for a dramatic clash between hero and demon king.

No.

Malleus had lived centuries watching heroes march to his doorstep, brandishing divine weapons, shouting righteous declarations, vowing to end him. And yet, he had never once fallen. Never once faltered. Never once let a blade even graze his skin.

But yesterday, when you hadn’t returned, he had thought—ah. So this is how it ends.

If he had to be slain, he wanted it to be by your hand.

If he had to see someone for the last time, he had hoped it would be you.

You broke.

Instantaneous. No hesitation. No rational thought. No clever quip or theatrical deflection. No last-minute is this a good idea? self-reflection. Just a sharp inhale, a rapid closing of distance, and then—

You kissed him. Hard.

Not soft, not slow, not gentle. Desperate. Raw. Months of pent-up feelings, of endless late nights spent thinking about him, of hands brushing and shared laughter and quiet understanding and—fuck. You were so gone for him.

Malleus stiffened—but only for a second.

Then he melted into you.

His hands rose—one tangling in your hair, the other curling around your waist, pulling you so close you swore you could feel his heartbeat hammering against your chest. He kissed back just as desperately, just as fiercely, like he’d been waiting just as helplessly as you had.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, he stared like he’d never seen you before. Wide-eyed. Lips parted. His grip on you so tight, like he was terrified you’d vanish if he let go.

“…I suppose that was your way of saying you refuse?” His voice, unsteady.

A breathless, shaky laugh. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Yeah, I refuse.”

His forehead pressed to yours, breath warm against your lips. His hands didn’t loosen their hold.

“…Then don’t ever leave me.”

You closed your eyes. Gripped his shoulders.

Nodded.

“Never.”

The celestial being—divine embodiment of justice and order, an ancient force revered throughout history—descended upon Malleus’ lair in a blinding display of light and holy power.

Wings of pure radiance unfurled. A golden staff crackled with divine energy. A voice, imbued with the might of the cosmos, boomed across the chamber:

“CHOSEN HERO. DEMON KING. IT IS TIME FOR YOUR DESTINED BATTLE.”

You blinked. Looked up from where you were curled against Malleus, sipping tea and reading a book titled 1,001 Architectural Wonders (That Are Not Gargoyles, Please Stop Asking).

Malleus glanced up from the game of chess he was currently losing against Lilia. “Oh?” he said, perfectly unbothered. “Has it truly been that long?”

“Yes, it has been that long!” the celestial being thundered. “You were sent here to vanquish the Demon King, not—” their eye twitched as they took in the scene, “—play house with him.”

You frowned. “Okay, first of all, rude.”

"Rude? RUDE?!" The celestial being practically vibrated with fury. "YOU LIED TO US!"

“I did not lie,” you said, deeply offended. “I gave you very detailed mission updates.”

“‘I’m gathering intel on the enemy’?”

“I was!” you huffed. “Did you know Malleus actually prefers honey in his tea instead of sugar? Crucial information.”

The celestial being sputtered. “You literally wrote, and I quote—” they conjured a glowing scroll and read aloud, “‘I need to study his weaknesses.’”

“Well,” you said, nodding toward Malleus, “he is weak to compliments. Call him ‘awe-inspiring’ and he gets all flustered. It’s very endearing.”

The being looked one breath away from smiting you. “AND ‘HE’S PROBABLY PLANNING SOMETHING EVIL, I NEED TO KEEP AN EYE ON HIM’??”

You pointed at Malleus, who was currently sipping tea with perfect elegance, staring at you like you personally hung the moon in the sky.

“Look at him,” you said dryly. “He’s clearly up to something.”

Malleus delicately set down his teacup. “Indeed,” he mused. “I was just plotting whether to have scones or biscuits with my tea tomorrow.”

The celestial being’s golden aura flickered like a candle in the wind. “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO KILL HIM!”

Malleus frowned. “That seems excessive for a difference in snack preference.”

The celestial being inhaled sharply, hands trembling. You were pretty sure you just heard them whisper I hate my job.

“Enough!” they roared. “FIGHT! NOW!”

You and Malleus exchanged a long glance.

There was a beat of silence.

Then, with all the excitement of two overworked employees being forced into another useless meeting, you both sighed and reached for the nearest decorative swords.

You lifted your sword. Malleus did the same.

And then, with all the enthusiasm of two toddlers being told to pretend-fight for Grandma’s amusement—

—you both half-heartedly tapped your swords together.

clink.

“There,” you said, monotone. “We fought. Can we go back to cuddling now?”

The celestial being screamed.

The celestial being didn’t so much escort you to the heavens as haul you there like a parent dragging a misbehaving child to a disciplinary hearing. You barely had time to adjust to the blinding light before being unceremoniously dropped onto the cold marble floor.

Above you, the gods loomed from their gilded thrones, their divine radiance pulsing with something that was not quite anger—because gods did not feel anger, only divine disappointment, which was so much worse.

The celestial being, standing smugly beside them, crossed their arms. “I told you they weren’t taking this seriously.”

The first god spoke, voice like rolling thunder. “Chosen hero.”

Another voice, this one like a windstorm, joined in. “You were sent to slay the Demon King.”

A third, calm and cold as deep water. “And yet, you have done nothing.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the celestial being snapped their fingers, and suddenly, an image materialized before you. A glowing vision of you, fully reclined across Malleus’ lap, popping fruit into his mouth while he read a book.

You stared.

“…Okay,” you admitted, “this looks bad.”

The celestial being glared. “Because it is bad!”

The gods ignored them, their voices deepening into something more final.

“This war against the Demon King has lasted centuries,” one intoned.

“You were our last hope,” another added. “If you do not complete your duty, there will be no other hero for another hundred years.”

“Without a hero,” the celestial being hissed, “there will be no one to protect the world from his inevitable destruction.”

Their words should have shaken you. You should have felt the weight of them pressing into your spine, the consequences of this moment sinking into your bones.

Instead, you just felt tired.

Tired of this war you never understood. Tired of the gods, who sat safe in their gilded heavens, while they sent hero after hero to their deaths.

Tired of pretending that Malleus was something he wasn’t.

You took a slow breath. Then, you reached up and began unbuckling the divine armor. The metal rang loud as it clattered to the ground, reverberating through the silent chamber. You ripped the sacred amulet from around your neck, tossing it aside like an afterthought. The enchanted boots that carried you here? Gone.

The gods watched, speechless, as you stripped away everything that bound you to them.

Then, you stood taller than you ever had before.

“I quit,” you said simply.

The chamber erupted. The celestial being choked. “You can’t just—”

“I can,” you interrupted, stretching your arms, reveling in the freedom of it. “And I am. You want a hero? Find another poor fool. I’m done.”

The gods stared, as if they truly couldn’t comprehend your audacity.

“There will be no other hero for a century,” one god reminded you. “Do you understand what you are forsaking?”

You grinned. “Yeah. Unnecessary slaying.”

And with that, you turned on your heel and walked away, the celestial doors parting effortlessly before you. The gods did not stop you. Perhaps they couldn’t.

You returned to Malleus’ lair lighter than you had ever felt.

He was waiting for you when you arrived, standing near the entrance, his expression unreadable. His eyes—those impossibly green eyes—watched you carefully, searching for something.

“You’re back,” he said softly.

You stepped closer, meeting his gaze. “Of course.”

Something flickered in his expression—something relieved, something like hope.

You exhaled, the weight of everything lifting off your shoulders. “I’m free now, Malleus. No more gods. No more divine duty. Just… me.”

For the first time, you saw it—true joy in his gaze. He stepped forward, closer, until there was nothing between you.

And then he kissed you.

It was not hesitant. Not questioning. It was certain, like he had always known this moment was inevitable, like he had only been waiting for you to realize it too.

When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his lips curling into a smile.

“I was hoping you’d choose me,” he murmured.

You smiled back, fingers threading through his.

“I always would have.”

It happened over tea, as most of your most life-altering conversations with Malleus tended to.

You had been lounging on his absurdly comfortable sofa, sipping something floral he had brewed just for you, feeling very much like a person who had absolutely no idea that their entire life was about to be rearranged.

Malleus, ever composed, set down his own cup and regarded you with something almost too fond.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, “about how long we’ve been together.”

You blinked. “How long?”

He hummed, tilting his head. “Since you gave me your sword, of course.”

You continued blinking, because surely, surely you had misheard him.

“…My sword?”

Malleus nodded, utterly serene. “Yes. It was an elegant proposal.”

You made a sound. It wasn’t a word, exactly, but it conveyed your confusion well enough.

Malleus watched you, waiting patiently for what he must have assumed was joyous realization.

You, meanwhile, were still trying to process whatever the hell was happening.

“…Proposal,” you echoed, because maybe if you repeated it, reality would shift into something that made sense.

Malleus offered a rare, knowing smile. “A symbol of devotion. Offering one’s most treasured possession to another—it is an unbreakable vow, a declaration of lifelong commitment. The moment you placed your sword in my hands, you became mine.”

A long pause.

You stared at him. He continued to look pleased.

You, meanwhile, were experiencing an entire existential crisis.

“Hold on,” you said slowly. “So you’re telling me that, in demon culture, giving you my sword meant—”

“A proposal,” Malleus finished, nodding. “It was quite romantic.”

Your brain short-circuited. You thought back to that moment, a year ago, when you had so casually handed him your holy sword, thinking haha, maybe he can make this thing shut up.

In reality, you had apparently gotten engaged like an absolute moron.

You set down your tea with the careful precision of someone trying very, very hard not to spiral. “Malleus,” you said, voice deceptively calm, “why didn’t you tell me?”

He blinked, puzzled. “I thought you knew.”

“Malleus, I’m human.”

He tilted his head, considering. “Ah. I see the problem now.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, inhaling deeply. “So, in your mind, we’ve been betrothed this whole time?”

“Yes,” he said, utterly unbothered.

You stared at him. He stared back, composed as ever.

And then you just—laughed. Because of course. Of course you had accidentally proposed to the Demon King like an idiot.

“Well,” you said between snickers, wiping at your eyes. “Since we’re apparently already engaged, wanna just go ahead and get hitched?”

Malleus’ grin was blinding.

“Absolutely.”

Masterlist

Hellooo :3c I hope you are doing alright 🌸

I want to make a request, i got a silly idea and i hope you dont mind!

If posible, i would like to request for Riddle, Carter, Azul and Lilia and how they would react when while they were hanging out with their crush (or s/o, however you prefer) reader out of nowhere tells them that last night they had a dream where both were getting married, but like reader is telling them cuz the dreams was so wild, like in the old princess Disney movies everything was so animated, there were floating things everywhere and it was full of color and everyone was dancing (even the furniture)

The wedding bells

Type: Headcanons, SFW, Fluff, Romantic

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts; Cater Diamond; Azul Ashengrotto; Lilia Vanrouge; GN!Reader

AN: I might've gone a bit too sappy, let me know what you think

Riddle Rosehearts

-Riddle is slightly baffled, more so by the thought of you dreaming of a wedding with him as the groom, not how wierd it was. The latter at least makes sense, dreams are intended to be strange, like that one time he dreamt about being a tart. Nonetheless he's touched.

- The young man would be flustered, yet curious. Inanimate objects becoming... Animate? In tales about Queen of Hearts something similar acured on daily basis. Perhaps if the two of you do get married maybe he should try and arrange for the whole ordeal to be heavily based off of one of the Sevens? But that's jumping too fast and too far into the future.

- His mind wonders as you tell and more about your dream, as his face grows redder and redder with blush as you describe any detail involving him as the groom. He's both touched and embarrassed to an extent, yet he's happy that at least in your dream he stayed a proper gentleman.

- Riddle cannot get an image of you by the altar from his head for some time, both of you dressed for the ceremony, staring lovingly into each other's eyes... As he mentally scolds himself for daydreaming amids the day, he can't help but hope that one day that little dream of yours becomes reality for both of you.

Cater Diamond

- Oh?! Do tell him every little detail! Cater is not only happy that he was in your dream, but also was the groom? Oh did the two of you kiss? Did he feed you the cake, did you two dance with the furniture? The young man listens to your dream, exited expression on his face.

- It may be a dream, but now it's a shared dream between the two of you. Cater knows that you might be jumping over your heads with the hypothetical dream wedding of yours, but he doesn't care, he's already invested, trying to prey out as much detail as possible simply to try and envision the whole thing. He might even pull out some kind of Piccrew for rooms and try to recreate the place for giggles with you.

- Cater is also encouraging of your ideas or how dream might've ended or what happened in parts you don't remember no matter how silly or how little they make sense, so long as they make sense to you. He might even throw in his own theories or add even more redicules ideas, to make your dream seem even more whimsical.

- While Cater is obviously joking around, he does find the thought of marrying you a pleasant one. He's jealous even, the man wishes he saw a wedding with you in his dream, but then again, reality is just as pleasant if not better.

Azul Ashengrotto

- What. The man is flattered that he was in your dream, but mainly, what? Azul is a very analytic person in every aspect of his life, even if such aspect involves his significant other's dreams. Que his search history later on containing "Dreams of wedding meaning?"

- He might be a little red in a face or loss at words, but please don't stop, tell him all, the man lives for information. While he won't encourage such silly fantasies, he will entertain a thought of marriage to you. A lot... Maybe dancing and singing furniture is surface dwellers costume? He'll have to research.

-Ashengrotto will now daydream from time to time of a wedding, a life of being married to you, after the two of you graduate. Would the you stay on land? Perhaps you'd like to move to the Coral Sea with him, take up family business even? He might pretend that such silly fantasies don't affect him, but even capatlists aren't immune to love.

- Azul harbors such hopes and dreams, redoubling in his work. If he will be married to you he'll have to outdo your dream, which will involve outdoing alive furniture. The merman is ready for the challenge as long as it involves giving you everything, beyond your dreams.

Lilia Vanrouge

- You don't say... Alive furniture? Was it awkward to use it? Were chairs rioting if you sat in them? Was food also alive? Did he cook it? Then perhaps it was alive if that was the case. Lilia finds anything you say entertaining, your dreams are con exception. The man saw many things in his life, yet others visions during slumber were yet to be places he visits often.

- Before you know it Lilia is already imagining and building theories as to how it would be to live in your dream after that wedding if everything followed the same rules. Must be awkward taking a shower or using a toilet.

- The man wholeheartedly believes it tonbe a sign from someone above. While Vanrouge won't drop down on one knee right that instant, he will remember everything. The suite he was wearing, the cake the two of you ate, how many guests were there etc.

-Lilia is not young, so naturally thoughts of marriage crossed his mind more then once, let alone with his darling. While to you were retelling your silly dream, Vanrouge was imagining the real thing. He can't help it, life with you already feels like a dream come true, what's a wedding?

Squeezed

(You know, at first thought, being squeezed until you may lose feeling doesn't sound too pleasant. But all I can think about is how grounding that could be when in an panic attack)

Floyd Leech x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Platonic/Romantic

Summary: The reality of your situation finally hits you, but you definitely don't need the other students taunting you for something out of your control. Thankfully(?), you have Floyd.

~~~~~~

"Henchman?" Grim's worried call barely registers, your heartbeat creeping into your ears as you quickly speed walk out of your last class. "(Y/n), what's wrong? You're not really bothered by all those chumps are you?"

Your feet stutter, your body falling into the wall of the empty hallway, having been going the completely wrong direction. Your arms wrapped tight around your chest. Your breathing speeds up, vision narrowing as thoughts fill your head.

You were gonna either die here or be stuck here forever, weren't you? Stuck in a world of magic, unable to tap into any of the mystical power. Has Crowley even been looking for a solution???

You barely register Grim saying something about getting help, barely see him rush off. Your ears ring, gaze darting around you yet focusing on nothing.

You blink, trying to take in a steadying breath. You just needed to focus, identify colors or shapes to reset your head, calm yourself down before you truly lose it. You try to focus on something to begin, but your brain is too scrambled to give a name to any shape or color.

You don't hear the sing-songing lilt of someone calling your name, barely registering the figure now in front of you.

"Shrimpy?" It's Floyd, his toothy grin on display. "You're breathing awfully heavy there, you know. What's got you so worked up?"

He leans into your space, trying to see if you'll react. Had you been lucid, your blood would've ran ice cold at the way his grin drops. "Shrimpy?"

He takes note of the tight grip on yourself, the way you seem to look through him. He bends down a bit more on your level, one hand gently resting on the top of your head. His expression twitches at the way you're trembling.

Well, this isn't good. Not with the way you flinch at the mere brush of his hand on your hair.

"Hey, Shrimpy... (Y/n)?" he tries calling out to you again, bi-colored eyes locked onto you. When you don't react, he figures he has to resort to other methods.

His hands grasp yours, prying them off your arms and towards him. He ignores the startled gasp that leaves you, quick to wrap his arms around and squeeze.

You sit there, completely trapped, for a few long, tense moments. You blink, the blurriness in your vision coming back into focus as you register his heartbeat against your ear. Slowly, you relax, regaining control of your breathing, the dull ringing in your ears fading.

You feel him grin into your hair. "There you are Shrimpy!"

"F... Floyd?" you mumble, voice cracking as you reach up to wipe at your watery eyes. "W-What...?"

"I found you here against the wall, panicking like a beached fish. Where's your little beast, hm? Did he leave you here alone?"

You hum, leaning into the stupidly tall eel as he starts playing with your hair. "Ah... he said something about... about going to find help."

Floyd hums back, cheek pressing to the top of your head. "What got you so worked up?"

You explain the situation, the whispers of your crueler classmates, your own fears, and the fact Crowley hasn't done anything.

Floyd catches your emotions before you do, squeezing you a bit more to calm you back down. For as scary as he can be, you're finding this extremely comforting, pinned to reality and shielded from your wandering thoughts.

"I'll take care of it."

Had you been in any other situation, those words would've sent the fear of the Seven straight through you, but right now they were simply comforting.

Thankfully, you aren't looking at his face right now, otherwise you'd find a very murderous looking eel. Instead, you press into him, smiling.

"Thanks, Floyd."

I loved the calling them hun thing you wrote!!! I was wondering if you could do the same but with the Leech twins? Anyway, keep up the great work! 🩷

:0 omg ty! And ye, let’s get this request goin’!!!

Calling Them ‘Hun’ (pt. 2)

Genre: Platonic/Romantic, Fluff

Characters: Floyd and Jade Leech

Part 1, Part 2(you’re here!),

~~~~~~

Floyd

This is either the most disastrous outcome, or your most ingenious idea yet.

Floyd will NOT leave your side now. He may as well have fused with your hip.

Prepare to be squeezed until you’re almost sure you heard something pop.

Several students ask if you need help escaping when they find a rare moment where you’re alone.

On the flip side of this cuddly coin, no one is allowed to call you anything. Ever.

A classmate tries to flirt with you, ignoring your gentle dismissals of his attempts to court you.

The classmate is suddenly gone with a lesson learned, but now you need to deal with a moody eel that towers over you. Good luck.

Jade

Jade is nothing if not observant, and far more sly than most others first expect.

But when you called him hun, he found his mind had gone blank for a few moments.

The gears began to turn again, and at that moment you dreaded the grin on his face.

What have you gotten yourself into?

He keeps his giddiness subtle, but it's obvious he's incredibly pleased by this outcome with the way he's constantly touching or holding your arm when together

It's surprising though, how all of that subtlety and humbleness fades when you two are alone. You can't help but feel warm at how excited he looks.

“Cutie” with Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto

As soon as you mumbled that strange nickname, he grinned. A playful and gentle smile tugged at his lips.

Humans were so interesting. You were so content with him, regardless of how he looked or acted. He looked at you so fondly in return though. “You sure are something, my dearest…”

Jade Leech

A momentary air of silence covered you two like a blanket. His hands paused on the equipment he was using, along with the mushroom he was inspecting.

Cute? You thought he, out of all individuals, was cute? A cutie, no less? Oh, Floyd was never going to hear the end of his giddiness. But with a sly smirk, he egged you on. Say it again and see what happens.

Floyd Leech

Before the second syllable, he barreled into you. It was like he’d never heard such a silly nickname. The way he begged you to say it again, so ecstatic. You indulged a little.

And for the rest of his shift, he snuck longing glances at you. How endearing it was, to have a fish in the sea that was all his to keep.

OMG! I absolutely love you for the way you did my request of Mydei trying to court reader ❤️😭🙏

It was so silly and perfect and i couldn't stop laughing!!!

And now theres part 2???

youre a blessing dear author 🫶

I'm glad you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing this ♡

Here's a part 3 ♡

Mydei x (fem)reader

Mydei courting reader (3)

Part 2

The streets of Okhema had grown quieter as the evening settled in, the sky painted in soft shades of purple and orange. The laughter of the children had faded, leaving only the distant murmur of the marketplace and the occasional chatter of passersby.

Y/N and Mydei walked side by side, their pace slow, unhurried. The excitement from earlier had died down, and now, a strange silence stretched between them.

For once, Mydei wasn’t speaking.

He wasn’t teasing her for losing, wasn’t boasting about his victory, wasn’t smirking at her like he usually did after getting the upper hand.

Instead, he was quiet.

It was… strange.

She kept sneaking glances at him, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. He was staring straight ahead, his usual sharp gaze slightly unfocused, as if deep in thought.

The memory of what happened just minutes ago replayed in her head—the chase, the cheers, the kids yelling about a reward, and then…

The kiss.

Her cheeks warmed just thinking about it.

She didn’t even know why she did it. It just felt like the right thing to do. Mydei had looked so composed, as if he hadn’t been flustered at all, and for some reason, that had annoyed her. So she acted on impulse, tugged him down, and kissed his cheek.

And then he turned bright red.

Just the thought of it made her lips twitch, but at the same time, guilt crept in.

She sighed quietly, lowering her gaze.

“…Sorry.”

The word slipped out so softly, she wasn’t sure he even heard it.

But then—

He stopped.

Y/N felt it immediately—the shift in the air, the sudden lack of movement beside her. She turned, only to see Mydei standing still, brows furrowed, watching her with open confusion.

“…What?” His voice was quieter than usual.

She hesitated before meeting his gaze. “I said… I’m sorry.”

His frown deepened. “For what?”

“For… earlier.” She shifted on her feet. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was probably weird, and I—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just—”

“Why are you apologizing?”

She blinked at the sharpness of his tone.

Mydei was still staring at her, golden eyes unreadable, but there was something frustrated in the way he looked at her. Like he didn’t understand why she would even say that.

Y/N bit her lip, suddenly feeling awkward. “…Because it was kind of unfair? You didn’t really get a say in it.”

At that, Mydei let out a breath—one of incredulity.

“You think I didn’t want that?”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

The words were quiet. Almost grumbled. As if he hadn’t even meant to say them out loud.

But she heard them.

Clearly.

Her lips parted slightly, her brain short-circuiting for a second. “…What?”

Mydei’s expression stiffened, and he immediately looked away, crossing his arms. “Forget it.”

“No, hold on, what did you just say?”

“Forget it, Y/N.”

“I will not.”

“Tch.”

He turned on his heel and started walking again, this time at a slightly faster pace.

Y/N scrambled to keep up, her heart hammering, the heat rising to her cheeks again.

Did she just—

Did she mishear him?

Or did he really just say—

No. No way.

…Right?

Y/N hurried after Mydei, her heart pounding in her chest. He was not getting away that easily.

Before he could take another step, she quickly moved in front of him, blocking his path.

He stopped abruptly, barely avoiding bumping into her. “Move.”

“No.” She crossed her arms, standing her ground.

His golden eyes narrowed. “Y/N.”

“Mydei.” She mimicked his tone, unwavering. “We’re talking about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You just said something that completely contradicts the way you act, and you expect me to just ignore it?” She scoffed. “No way. You’re going to explain what you meant.”

“Tch.” Mydei’s jaw clenched, and his gaze flickered away for a moment. His entire posture screamed tense, his arms crossed so tightly it looked like he was physically keeping himself from reaching for something—maybe a sword, maybe just a distraction.

Y/N took a step closer, searching his face.

“…Mydei.”

His eyes snapped back to hers.

“I don’t get you,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “One second, you’re messing with me, the next, you’re ignoring me, and now you’re—” She exhaled in frustration. “Now you’re saying things like that, and you won’t even explain what you mean.”

Mydei stared at her, unmoving.

For a moment, Y/N thought he was just going to shut down entirely, to brush her off and push past her.

But then—

“…You really don’t get it, do you?”

His voice was quiet. Almost amused, but not in a mocking way. More like he was baffled.

Y/N frowned. “Get what?”

His golden eyes studied her face—searching, considering. Then, finally, he exhaled.

“I like you, Y/N.”

Silence.

Y/N blinked, not entirely sure she heard him right. “…What?”

His lips pressed together, then curved into a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re not gonna make me say it twice.”

Her brain short-circuited.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait.

He—

He what?

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her thoughts felt scrambled, like someone had just thrown all the pieces of a puzzle onto the floor and expected her to figure it out in five seconds.

Mydei liked her?

Like—liked her?

She must’ve looked as dumbfounded as she felt because Mydei let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Y/N snapped out of it. “Hold on.”

“What.”

“How—” She ran a hand through her hair, still trying to process. “Since when?”

His gaze flickered to the side, and for the first time, he was the one looking unsure. “…A while.”

Oh.

She swallowed. “And you—” Her voice faltered slightly. “You were trying to tell me?”

He scoffed. “Tch. I was showing you.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it.

All the moments over the past few weeks flashed in her mind—his sparring matches with her, his gifts, the way he lingered around her, his small but rare smiles, everything.

Oh.

Oh.

Her face burned. “I—I didn’t—”

“Yeah. I figured,” he muttered.

She groaned, covering her face for a second. “I thought you were just—y’know, being you!”

He gave her a look. “I don’t do this kind of shit for just anyone.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, and oh gods, he was serious.

Oh.

Y/N lowered her hands, her heart hammering in her chest. “And… you’re not joking?”

His expression darkened. “You think I’d joke about this?”

…No. No, he wouldn’t.

The realization hit her like a wave.

This whole time—this whole time—he had been trying to tell her. And she—she had been too oblivious to see it.

Y/N let out a breath, her pulse racing. She met his gaze, something twisting in her chest.

“…Oh.”

Mydei stared at her for a moment. Then he scoffed. “Yeah. Oh.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind spinning as she stared at Mydei.

The weight of everything that had just been said pressed down on her chest, making her feel both incredibly stupid and incredibly overwhelmed. She had been blind—completely and utterly blind.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “…I’m sorry.”

Mydei’s brows furrowed. “For what?”

“For not noticing.” She exhaled shakily, looking down at the ground. “For making you go through all that trouble just to get me to see something that should’ve been obvious.”

“Tch.” Mydei’s lips pressed together, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t need to apologize for that.”

She scoffed. “You literally had to chase me through half of Okhema before I even started putting the pieces together—”

“That’s not your fault.”

She looked up at him. He was staring at her, expression firm—certain.

“…Then whose fault is it?” she asked quietly.

He sighed, crossing his arms. “Mine.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I should’ve just said something sooner.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Instead of relying on Kremnoan traditions that clearly mean nothing to you.”

Y/N frowned. “That’s not—”

“I kept thinking, ‘she’ll get it eventually.’” His voice was low, almost frustrated—but not at her. “That one of these days, you’d finally understand.”

She bit her lip, guilt settling in her stomach. “…I still feel bad.”

Mydei let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “And you’re stubborn.”

They locked eyes, and for a brief moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then—

“…I liked you.”

The words tumbled out before Y/N could stop them.

Mydei froze.

Her eyes widened slightly as she realized what she’d just said.

“I—I mean—” She sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly flustered. “I like you—I liked you—no, I mean—” She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “I never let myself think about it!”

Mydei remained still, watching her carefully. “…What do you mean?”

Y/N inhaled shakily, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I mean, I liked you—I like you—but I never let myself think about it.” Her voice grew softer. “Because you’re you.”

His expression flickered, something unreadable passing through his golden eyes. “…Me?”

“You’re a prince, Mydei,” she murmured. “You’re an Chrysos heir. You have responsibilities. A whole kingdom to think about. And I’m just—”

Her voice faltered, her chest tightening.

Just Y/N.

Mydei’s brows drew together.

“Y/N.”

Her breath hitched slightly when he suddenly stepped closer.

She swallowed, forcing herself to keep talking. “I just—I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t let myself think about it, because—”

“Enough.”

Her words died in her throat.

His voice was firm—certain.

She looked up at him, startled by the intensity in his golden gaze.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“You think I care about any of that?” Mydei scoffed, shaking his head. “You think it matters to me that I’m a prince and you’re not?”

Y/N swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

He exhaled sharply, then—without hesitation—reached out, cupping the side of her face with his hand.

She froze, her breath catching.

“You,” Mydei said quietly, “are the only thing I have ever wanted for myself.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

Her mind went completely blank.

Mydei held her gaze, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek. “…Do you understand now?”

She barely managed to nod, her face burning.

He let out a small, breathy chuckle—soft, fond.

“Good.”

The morning sun bathed Okhema in a soft golden light, the streets already alive with the usual sounds of merchants calling out their wares and warriors beginning their morning drills. Among them, Mydei walked with an unmistakable air of satisfaction. His usual composed and sharp demeanor was still intact, but there was something different—his shoulders weren’t as tense, his expression wasn’t as severe, and if one looked closely enough, they might even catch a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Phainon definitely noticed.

He had been casually leaning against a stone pillar near the training grounds, sipping his morning coffee, when Mydei passed by. At first, Phainon had assumed his eyes were playing tricks on him. But no. Mydei looked happy.

Suspiciously happy.

Phainon’s smirk was immediate. He pushed off the pillar and lazily strolled toward him.

“Well, well,” he drawled, falling into step beside Mydei. “Aren’t you in a fine mood today?”

Mydei didn’t react right away, but Phainon didn’t miss the way his lips twitched slightly before he responded.

“Hm.”

That was it. Just hm.

Phainon raised an eyebrow. “That’s all I get? No sharp retort? No glare?” He whistled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Mydei sighed, rolling his eyes. “What do you want, deliverer?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” Phainon took another sip of his coffee, watching Mydei closely. “Just curious as to why you look like someone who just won a war without lifting a sword.”

Mydei scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”

Phainon clicked his tongue. “Am I?” He took a step ahead, then turned to walk backward, facing Mydei as he grinned. “You’re radiating smugness, Mydei. It’s practically dripping off of you. It’s disgusting.”

The golden-eyed prince sighed, clearly debating whether or not to entertain this conversation.

Phainon’s grin widened. “Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?”

For the first time since their conversation started, Mydei hesitated.

It was subtle—the briefest pause in his step, the slightest shift in his expression—but Phainon caught it immediately.

“Oh, this is rich.” Phainon let out a delighted laugh. “You’re really not gonna say anything?”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Right. And I suppose that faint blush on your ears is also nothing?”

Mydei turned his head slightly, subtly adjusting his collar, but it was too late.

Phainon saw everything.

“Oh, this is fantastic,” Phainon continued, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Should I go find Y/N? Ask her what happened?”

That finally got a reaction.

Mydei stopped walking.

Phainon barely had a second to register it before Mydei turned his head just enough to level him with a look.

“…You won’t.”

Phainon blinked. Then, slowly, a grin stretched across his face.

“Oh, but now I have to.”

Mydei exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Phainon.”

Phainon only laughed, stepping closer. “Come on. Give me something. Did she finally get it?”

Mydei crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “…More or less.”

Phainon gasped dramatically. “You mean all of your awkward attempts actually paid off?”

Mydei gave him a flat look. “They weren’t awkward.”

“They absolutely were,” Phainon said smugly. “But that’s beside the point.” He tilted his head. “So? What now?”

Mydei was quiet for a moment.

Then, slowly, a small, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

“Now,” he said, “I make sure she never forgets.”

Phainon blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Then he let out a low whistle. “Oh. Oh, this is going to be fun to watch.”

Phainon still wasn’t done.

If anything, Mydei’s flustered reaction only fueled his mischief further.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Phainon reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His smirk was downright wicked as he tapped a few times on the screen before turning it toward Mydei.

“Seems like you had a good time yesterday,” he mused, his voice laced with amusement.

Mydei’s golden eyes landed on the screen.

It was the picture.

The one Phainon had secretly taken while lurking in the distance—Y/N on her toes, a hand gripping Mydei’s collar, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The normally stoic prince was caught mid-reaction, his ears red, his expression stunned.

A moment of silence.

Then—

“Mydei?” Phainon said, grinning. “You okay there, buddy?”

Mydei exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Phainon.”

Phainon’s smirk widened. “Yes?”

Mydei’s eye twitched.

“Delete it.”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Phainon pocketed his phone, taking a casual step back. “This is gold. Fantastic, even.”

Mydei ran a hand down his face. He inhaled deeply, as if to compose himself. Then, he took a step forward.

Phainon immediately took another step back.

“Mydei,” he said, amusement clear in his voice.

The prince said nothing. He merely rolled his shoulders back, his expression shifting from mild embarrassment to something much more dangerous.

Phainon recognized that look instantly.

“Oh, shit.”

Mydei lunged.

Phainon barely had time to react before he bolted, laughter spilling from his lips as he dodged between passing warriors and startled civilians.

Mydei was right behind him.

“You’re dead, Phainon.”

“So worth it!” Phainon cackled, vaulting over a wooden crate as he ran through the streets of Okhema.

“Get back here!”

“Never!”

Civilians watched in stunned silence as the two Chrysos heirs chased eachother through the marketplace, dodging carts, weaving through narrow streets, their thundering footsteps echoing through the city.

It was definitely not the last time Phainon was going to bring it up.

YOUR MYDEI TRYING TO COURT US FIC WAS SOSOSO CUTE IT HAD ME GIGGLING LIKE A MANIAC.

Would our amazing author pretty please consider making a part 2 when they have time 🙏 mayb they get together and mydei asks y/n out on an actual date but still is getting use to flirting in their way. No pressure though, love every morsel of mydei content from u 😭😭😭

I got multiple requests for a second part, so it's time to feed you guys♡

Mydei x (fem)reader

Mydei courting reader Part2

Part 1

The kitchen was warm, filled with the rich, comforting scent of butter and spice. Y/N sat on the edge of the counter, legs swinging idly as she watched Mydei work. His movements were precise, methodical—hands dusted with flour as he kneaded the dough with ease, rolling it out before folding it again. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain focus in the way he handled the ingredients.

“You’re really good at this,” Y/N noted, resting her chin on her hand.

Mydei didn’t look up, but the corner of his lips almost twitched. “I’ve had practice.”

“I didn’t know you baked.”

“Hm.” He paused, carefully pressing the dough into shape. “It’s just… preparing food. Like anything else. Following the right steps, controlling the heat.”

Y/N hummed. “You make it sound so simple, but I’m pretty sure I’d mess it up in three seconds.”

Mydei glanced at her, golden eyes briefly flicking over her face before he returned to his task. “You’d just need to learn.”

She pouted. “Are you offering to teach me?”

Another pause. Then: “Maybe.”

Before she could tease him about it, another voice chimed in.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Y/N turned just in time to see Phainon leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching them with unmistakable amusement. His blue eyes flickered to the baking ingredients, then to Mydei, and his grin widened.

“Mydei,” he said slowly, stepping into the kitchen, “are you baking?”

Mydei’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. “…Yes.”

Phainon looked delighted. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve had the ability to make delicious pastries, and I’m only now finding out?”

Y/N snickered. “I know, right? He’s been holding out on us.”

Mydei ignored them both.

Unbothered, Phainon walked over and leaned on the counter beside Y/N. “So, what are we making?”

“We aren’t making anything,” Mydei corrected.

Phainon placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” He glanced at the dough, inspecting it with mild curiosity. “Looks fancy. What is it?”

Y/N answered before Mydei could. “He said it’s a spiced honey pastry. Apparently, it’s something Kremnoans eat after big feasts.”

Phainon raised a brow. “Huh. Never imagined you as the type to make sweets.”

“I don’t make them often.”

“So, what, is this a special occasion?”

Mydei didn’t answer.

Phainon smirked. “Interesting.”

Y/N, completely missing the implication, just nodded along. “Yeah, I was wondering the same thing! He said he felt like making something, but he won’t say why.”

Phainon shot Mydei a look that screamed, You’re so obvious, it hurts.

Mydei, sensing it, leveled him with a sharp glare.

Y/N, still blissfully unaware, just tilted her head. “So, what’s next?”

“…Shaping the dough,” Mydei muttered, shifting his focus back to the counter.

Phainon grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

And with that, the three of them continued—Y/N genuinely interested in learning, Phainon occasionally throwing in unhelpful commentary, and Mydei just barely tolerating them. (Barely tolerating phainon)

If nothing else, at least the pastries would turn out well.

The sweet, warm scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air as Mydei pulled the tray from the oven. Golden and crisp on the outside, soft and honeyed within—perfect.

Y/N leaned forward, eyes bright with admiration. “Wow, Mydei, these look amazing.”

He huffed softly, carefully plating a few. “Taste it.”

She didn’t hesitate, breaking one open and taking a bite. The moment the flavors melted on her tongue, her eyes widened, and she let out a delighted hum. “Oh my, Mydei—this is so good.”

Mydei allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk.

Meanwhile, Phainon, who had been eyeing the pastries the entire time, reached for one. “Alright, my turn—”

Without even looking, Mydei smoothly pulled the plate just out of his reach.

Phainon blinked. “Wait. Did you just—”

Silence.

Mydei focused solely on Y/N as she savored the pastry, blissfully unaware of Phainon’s suffering.

“Are you seriously not giving me one?” Phainon asked, incredulous.

No response.

Y/N, completely oblivious, just kept talking between bites. “This is honestly unfair. You can fight, you can cook, you can bake—” She ticked off each point on her fingers. “You’re great with kids, strong, good-looking—”

There was a pause.

Mydei stilled.

Phainon, who had been mid-complaint, went silent.

Y/N, not noticing, casually continued.

“You really are husband material.”

The room went dead quiet.

Mydei, who had just taken a bite of his own pastry, suddenly choked. He coughed violently, setting his plate down as he tried—and failed—to recover. His golden eyes widened slightly, his usual composure cracking for the first time.

Phainon, meanwhile, looked like he was about to explode.

His entire body trembled as he bit down on his knuckles, his blue eyes darting between Y/N—who was still completely unaware—and Mydei, who was struggling between coughing and processing what just happened.

“H-Husband—” Mydei stammered, voice unusually strained. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain control. “What?”

Y/N glanced up, chewing. “Hmm?”

“You just—” Mydei exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked at her like she had just knocked the wind out of him. “Did you just call me—”

Phainon made a choked noise.

Y/N blinked. “Oh. Yeah.” She shrugged, finishing the last of her pastry. “I mean, you kinda are. You’ve got all the qualities.”

Phainon slapped the table so hard the dishes rattled, wheezing.

Mydei shot him a sharp glare, but it did nothing to stop him from completely losing it.

Y/N, still unaware of the absolute chaos she had just caused, tilted her head. “What’s so funny?”

Phainon, gasping for air, barely managed to choke out, “N-nothing—nothing at all—please, keep talking—”

Meanwhile, Mydei looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His face, usually unreadable, was visibly strained—his golden eyes flickering between frustration and something else. His ears burned just slightly, but he refused to acknowledge it.

“Anyway,” Y/N continued, utterly unfazed, “this was amazing. You should bake more often, Mydei.”

Mydei, still recovering, only managed a short nod, unable to look at her.

Phainon wiped a tear from his eye, still trembling from silent laughter.

Y/N stretched. “I think I’ll go for a walk. Thanks for the food!”

As soon as the door shut behind her, Phainon collapsed.

His laughter erupted into the open, uncontrollable, as he leaned back against the chair. “Oh—oh, Mydei—” He gasped between wheezes. “Did you see your face?!”

Mydei scowled, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Shut up.”

But the pink dusting his ears did not go unnoticed.

Phainon was still laughing.

It had been a full minute since Y/N left, and he was not letting it go.

“Husband material,” he wheezed, barely holding himself upright. “You really are husband material, Mydei!” He clutched his stomach, shaking his head. “Oh, this is too good—”

Mydei, sitting rigidly across from him, looked like he was this close to throwing him out the window.

“Are you done?” Mydei said, voice tight.

Phainon wiped at his eyes, trying to calm himself, but every time he looked at Mydei—his arms crossed, his jaw clenched, his golden eyes glaring anywhere except where Y/N had been sitting—he started up again.

“I mean—” Phainon exhaled, catching his breath. “I just—wow. Of all the things she could’ve said.” He grinned. “And you choked.”

Mydei did not dignify that with a response.

Instead, he grabbed another pastry off the plate, taking an aggressive bite, as if the food could somehow make him forget all of it.

But it didn’t.

Because Phainon was still watching him.

And worse—Mydei was still thinking about it.

Husband material.

The words repeated in his mind, unbidden, making something coil uncomfortably in his chest. Not because he disliked the idea, but because of the way she had said it—so casually, so unaware of the effect it had on him.

She really didn’t get it, did she?

Didn’t realize what it meant for someone like him to hear something like that?

He scowled, setting his plate down with a little too much force.

Phainon, of course, caught onto everything.

He smirked, leaning forward on his elbows. “Still thinking about it?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up.”

Phainon chuckled, tilting his head. “So. What’s your next move, husband?”

Mydei shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel.

Phainon just grinned wider.

The streets of Okhema were alive with movement—merchants calling out their wares, travelers bargaining for supplies, the distant clang of a blacksmith hammering steel. But Mydei barely noticed any of it.

He walked with his hands tucked behind his back, his golden eyes narrowed in thought.

The previous day’s events played in his head on repeat.

Y/N had called him husband material—out loud, in front of Phainon, without a second thought. Did she mean it? Would he really be a good Husband? But when he’d tried to gauge her reaction, to see if she had finally understood what he’d been trying to do, she just kept eating her pastries, completely unaware of the effect she had on him.

The memory alone was enough to make him grit his teeth.

He had tried everything. Gifts. Training. Spending time with her. He had been obvious—at least, by Kremnoan standards. Back home, anyone would have understood his intentions immediately.

But Y/N?

She was clueless.

He exhaled sharply, adjusting the gauntlets on his wrists.

Phainon had said he needed to be more direct. That was easier said than done. It wasn’t in his nature to be… soft. Kremnos didn’t have words for love. They had words for strength, for battle, for survival. Their affections were shown through actions, not flowery phrases or pointless compliments.

And yet, despite everything, he was losing this battle.

His next attempt had to be unmistakable.

But how—

A familiar sound stopped him in his tracks.

Laughter.

And not just anyone’s laughter—hers.

Mydei’s head snapped up, his sharp gaze scanning the marketplace.

And then he saw her.

Y/N stood in an open space near a merchant stall, surrounded by children. She was crouched down, talking animatedly, hands moving as she spoke. The kids around her giggled, some clapping their hands, others tugging at her sleeves excitedly.

Then, without warning, she bolted.

The children shrieked in delight and ran after her, their laughter ringing through the street as they chased her through the crowd.

Mydei stared.

What in the world was she doing?

His feet moved on instinct, his curiosity outweighing his frustration as he stepped closer, watching the scene unfold.

She was playing with them.

She twisted around a cart, narrowly dodging one of the kids who lunged for her. “Too slow!” she teased, sticking out her tongue before dashing away again.

The children shouted in protest, determination burning in their eyes as they picked up speed.

Mydei couldn’t help but huff a quiet breath of amusement.

She was ridiculous.

But then—

“MYDEI!”

Her voice cut through the noise, bright and full of excitement.

His muscles tensed.

Slowly, cautiously, he met her gaze.

A grin spread across her face, her eyes practically glowing.

One of the kids tugged at her sleeve. “Oh! It’s the warrior prince!”

Another turned toward him, eyes wide. “He’s really big…”

A third tilted their head. “Do you think he knows how to play?”

Mydei’s brow twitched.

Y/N clapped her hands together. “Perfect timing! We’re playing tag, but the teams are uneven.”

She pointed at him.

“You should join us!”

The kids immediately erupted in cheers.

“YES!”

“Play with us!”

“You’ll be really fast, right? You’re a warrior!”

A beat of silence passed.

Mydei stared at Y/N, then at the eager faces of the children.

Play? Him?

He was a Kremnoan warrior. He had never played tag in his life.

This was ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

But then Y/N tilted her head, her smile softening just slightly, and—

…Damn it.

His fate was sealed.

One second, Mydei was standing tall, arms crossed as he observed the game unfold—the next, a child had launched themselves at him.

The impact barely made him stumble, but the little hands clinging to him and the triumphant laughter left no room for doubt.

He was it.

Mydei blinked, processing what had just happened as the other children burst into cheers.

“YOU’RE IT NOW!”

“CATCH SOMEONE!”

He let out a slow exhale, golden eyes scanning the gathered group. The kids stared at him in wide-eyed excitement, giggling behind their hands. Some were already shifting nervously, ready to sprint for their lives if his attention landed on them.

But Mydei wasn’t looking at them.

His gaze snapped to Y/N.

She was just standing there—until their eyes met.

A slow grin spread across his face, sharp as a predator about to pounce.

Y/N’s own smile faltered.

“Oh, shit.”

Then she bolted.

Laughter bubbled up in her chest as she sprinted through the streets of Okhema, dodging past merchants and startled pedestrians.

Behind her, the children cheered and whooped.

“GET HER, MYDEI!”

“RUN, Y/N, RUN!”

“I’M BETTING FIVE COINS ON MYDEI!”

“You don’t have five coins!”

“I’M STILL BETTING THEM!”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder—

And immediately regretted it.

Mydei was already closing the distance, long strides eating up the ground far faster than they should have. He was fast—too fast.

Her heart pounded.

If she wanted to win this, she had to think fast.

She darted toward the marketplace, weaving between food stalls and carts, leaping over crates with practiced ease.

But he didn’t slow down.

She could hear the heavy thud of his boots behind her, smooth and relentless.

She turned a corner sharply, hoping to throw him off. But then—

A strong arm shot out, just barely missing her.

A laugh rumbled from him.

“Oh, you’re dead now,” he called.

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

She needed height.

Spotting a stack of barrels, she vaulted onto them, then used the momentum to grab onto a wooden beam, swinging herself up onto a rooftop.

The kids gasped.

"WHOA! SHE'S LIKE A NINJA!"

"MYDEI, CAN YOU DO THAT?!"

Y/N grinned smugly, peeking over the edge. No way he's following me now.

Then she heard a heavy thud.

Her grin vanished.

Not even a second later—

Mydei had scaled the wall with brute force, gripping the ledge and pulling himself up in one swift motion.

The kids screamed in excitement.

"HE DID IT!"

“HE’S LIKE A HERO FROM A STORY!”

Y/N groaned. Of course he did.

She turned and ran again.

Now, they were tearing across the rooftops of Okhema.

Y/N moved like the wind, ducking under laundry lines, leaping between buildings, twisting midair to grab onto beams and pull herself up with effortless grace.

But Mydei—

He was a force of nature.

Where she dodged, he barreled through. Where she leaped, he jumped higher.

She landed on a narrow ledge, catching her breath for half a second

Then she felt a presence behind her.

She turned her head—

And nearly screamed.

Mydei was right there.

His golden eyes gleamed, his smirk wider than ever.

“Caught you.”

Before she could react, he lunged.

Y/N barely had a second to react before Mydei lunged.

With one smooth motion, he caught her wrist and pulled—sending them tumbling together onto the rooftop. She let out a startled gasp as she landed on her back, Mydei’s weight hovering just above her, pinning her down with ease.

She blinked, trying to catch her breath.

His golden eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unwavering.

There was no cocky remark this time. Just silence.

His grip on her wrist was firm but not tight, his other hand braced beside her head. His body was warm, muscles taut from the chase, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

Y/N’s heart pounded.

Not just from running.

Her lips parted slightly, trying to find words, but her mind had gone completely blank.

Why… why was he looking at her like that?

Like she was something to be hunted.

Something claimed.

She swallowed hard, face growing warm under his gaze.

And Mydei noticed.

The corner of his lips curled up slightly, and—

“WHOOOAAAAA!!!”

Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin at the explosion of cheering from below.

The kids had caught up.

And they were going wild.

“HE CAUGHT HER!”

“THAT WAS SO COOL!!”

“MYDEI IS A WARRIOR KING! DID YOU SEE THAT LEAP?!”

“Y/N, YOU LOST!”

The spell was shattered.

Y/N immediately turned her head, face burning. Mydei, however, just huffed a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying the situation way too much.

Still holding her wrist, he leaned down a fraction—just close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Looks like you’re mine now.”

Her brain short-circuited.

But before she could even process a response, Mydei finally released her and pushed himself up with a smirk.

She stared at him, flustered beyond belief.

What… what just happened?!

Still trying to steady her racing heart, Y/N sat up as Mydei extended a hand to her. She hesitated for a second before grasping it, letting him pull her to her feet with ease.

His smirk hadn’t faded.

Before she could say anything, the children’s excited chattering reminded her that they weren’t alone.

"THAT WAS SO AWESOME!"

"You guys were so fast!"

"Did you see when Mydei jumped from the cart to the roof?! That was just like a hero in the old war stories!"

"Y/N almost got away! But then BOOM! Caught in one swoop!"

Y/N cleared her throat, desperately trying to compose herself. “Alright, alright, settle down,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “So what now? We’re all sweaty and covered in dust.”

One of the kids, a boy with wild curls, suddenly gasped as if he had the greatest idea in history.

"WAIT!" He turned to the others, his face glowing with mischief. “Since Mydei won, he needs a reward!”

A chorus of agreement followed.

Y/N felt a sense of dread creeping in.

"Yeah! He totally deserves something!"

"Like a feast fit for a warrior!"

"Or a cool new weapon!"

Then, before she could stop it—

"A kiss from the loser!"

…Silence.

Y/N felt all the air leave her lungs.

Her brain shut down.

Her soul left her body.

Did—Did that little gremlin just say—?!

The group of kids immediately exploded into laughter and cheers, clapping and nodding as if it was the most brilliant idea ever conceived.

“Yeah! A KISS!”

“A real warrior’s reward!”

“That’s what happens in the old stories! The victorious warrior gets a kiss from the fair maiden!”

Y/N’s face was on fire.

The cheering hadn’t stopped.

The kids were still bouncing around, giggling, and chanting for Y/N to give Mydei his “victory reward.”

Meanwhile, she was still frozen.

She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, her face burning as she kept her gaze trained anywhere but on Mydei.

But then—

She dared a glance at him.

And what she saw stopped her brain completely.

He wasn’t looking at her.

Or at the kids.

Or anywhere really.

Instead, Mydei was staring off into the distance, arms crossed, posture stiff—trying so hard to look unaffected.

But.

His ears.

They were red.

Y/N blinked.

Then blinked again.

He was flustered.

The realization hit her like a boulder.

Mydei, the warrior who faced armies without blinking, who never seemed bothered by anything, who was always composed—

Was actually flustered.

Something about that made her heart flip.

And before she could stop herself—

She acted.

She reached out, tapped his shoulder.

He turned, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wha—”

Y/N grabbed the collar and pulled him down slightly—

And pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

The world went silent.

For a long second, Mydei did not move.

His golden eyes went wide, his entire body going rigid.

And then—

His face turned completely red.

It started at his ears, then spread down his neck, creeping across his cheeks.

His lips parted slightly, as if trying to form a sentence.

But no words came out.

Instead, what left his mouth was—

“…I— You— Wha—”

He couldn’t even speak.

And that—

Was absolutely amazing.

Before he could even recover, the kids exploded into cheers.

“WHOOOOAAAAA!!”

“THAT WAS SO COOL!!”

“I KNEW SHE’D DO IT!”

“Mydei lost his brain—look at him!!”

“I think he DIED!”

Y/N, cheeks still burning, looked up at Mydei—who still hadn’t moved.

His mouth was slightly open, his hand twitching like he wanted to touch his cheek but refused to do it in front of everyone.

Finally—

He turned away sharply, crossing his arms.

“…Tch.”

Y/N grinned.

But unbeknownst to both of them—

A little distance away, hiding behind a pillar, Phainon was grinning ear to ear.

And in his hands?

A perfectly timed picture of the exact moment Y/N kissed Mydei’s cheek.

The blue-eyed warrior chuckled to himself, tucking his phone away.

“Oh, this is going to be useful.”

Dropping by to say that I absolutely live for your Phainon/Mydei X reader stories!! IDk if youll be interested in this idea but hear me out.. Since reader is so oblivious, what do you think would be our reaction to Mydei trying to flirt with reader in a Kreamnoan way? Sparring, Gifting weapons, ect. And would Phainon pass out from laughing at his attempts or actually try to be a wingman in this situation?

I love this idea, phainon would enjoy this. He would definitely tease Mydei, but he would help him, too.

Mydei x (fem)reader

The sun hung high over the training grounds, its golden light reflecting off the polished steel of the weapons scattered around. The air was thick with the scent of metal and sand, the rhythmic clash of blades ringing through the open space as Mydei and Y/N sparred.

Mydei’s golden eyes were sharp, focused entirely on Y/N as she lunged toward him, her form precise but still just a little off-balance. He deflected her strike with ease, the weight of their swords meeting with a satisfying clang.

“That all you got?” he teased, stepping back smoothly, effortlessly avoiding her next swing.

Y/N huffed, rolling her shoulders before gripping her sword tighter. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of Mydei’s lips. Good. He liked a challenge. More importantly, he liked watching her fight—it showed her determination, her will. And in Kremnoan tradition, strength was everything.

Any other Kremnoan would have immediately understood the significance of his actions But Y/N?

She just thought he was a good friend.

So now he had to resort to a different method.

His grip tightened on his own blade as he surged forward, his movements deliberate—not aiming to overpower her, but to guide her into a rhythm, a dance of steel and instinct. Y/N met him head-on, eyes bright with determination, and for a moment, Mydei nearly forgot his original goal.

Then she grinned, dodging one of his strikes with surprising agility.

“You almost got me there,” she teased.

Mydei exhaled sharply through his nose, willing down the warmth creeping up his neck. Focus.

He moved fast, catching her sword with his own and stepping in closer, their faces mere inches apart. “You fight well,” he murmured, voice lower than usual. “But you still have much to learn.”

Y/N blinked up at him, momentarily caught off guard. But before she could register anything, he took a step back, lowering his sword slightly.

“You should learn from me,” Mydei continued, his tone calm, almost… inviting. “I can teach you properly.”

Y/N brightened, nodding eagerly. “Really? You’d do that?”

Mydei barely resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Yes. Obviously. That’s the whole point. Instead, he simply nodded, expression unreadable.

On the sidelines, Phainon leaned lazily against a wooden post, watching the scene unfold with an amused glint in his blue eyes. He took a slow sip of his drink, barely holding in his laughter.

Y/N had no idea what was happening.

And Mydei was suffering.

Their blades clashed again, the force of the impact sending a small vibration up Y/N’s arm. She was getting better, Mydei noted—not as easy to push back, more sure-footed with each step.

But she was still a step behind him.

He decided to test something. Instead of countering her next strike, he let her sword glance off his, shifting his weight so she overextended just a little—just enough for him to use her momentum against her.

In a swift, precise motion, he hooked his foot behind her ankle, pivoted, and swept her legs out from under her.

Y/N let out a startled oof as she hit the ground, blinking up at him in shock.

Before she could move, Mydei was already on her, one knee pressing lightly against her thigh, one arm braced against the dirt beside her head. His other hand grasped her wrist, pinning it to the ground in a firm but careful hold. His golden eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unwavering.

For a beat, there was only silence between them, the weight of his presence pressing down like an unspoken challenge.

Then, Y/N grinned.

“That was awesome!” she exclaimed.

Mydei’s eye twitched.

She wriggled her wrist slightly. “Okay, so how do I get out of this position?”

By Nikador, give me strength.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, tightening his grip just slightly as he leaned in closer. “That depends,” he murmured, his voice lower than usual. “Do you want to get out of it?”

Y/N tilted her head, considering his words. “Well, yeah? I mean, what if someone else does this in a fight? I need to know how to counter it, right?”

There was a very long pause.

Somewhere off to the side, Phainon let out a choked sound that was definitely not a cough.

Mydei’s jaw clenched. He didn’t need to look to know Phainon was watching this disaster unfold with way too much amusement.

Still hovering over Y/N, he inhaled slowly, trying to push down his growing frustration. “It’s not just about the fight,” he said carefully, watching her expression for any sign of recognition. “It’s about…” He searched for the right words, ones that she would understand.

Y/N blinked up at him, expectant, curious—completely and utterly unaware of what he was trying to say.

Phainon made another barely contained sound from the sidelines.

Mydei’s eye twitched again.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling a slow breath before finally pushing himself off her. “Forget it,” he muttered.

Y/N sat up quickly, dusting herself off. “Wait, did I miss something?”

“Yes.”

“…What was it?”

“Nothing.”

Y/N frowned but shrugged it off, already stretching her arms, completely unaware of Mydei’s silent suffering.

Meanwhile, Phainon was practically vibrating with barely suppressed laughter, his blue eyes gleaming with pure schadenfreude.

Mydei shot him a murderous glare.

Phainon smirked.

Oh, this was too good.

Y/N stretched her arms over her head, rolling out her shoulders as she caught her breath. “Man, I really need to work on counters,” she mused. “You keep knocking me on my ass.”

Mydei ran a hand through his hair, barely restraining a sigh. “You’ll improve,” he said, though his tone was a little strained.

Not at this rate, he thought to himself.

Phainon, still perched nearby, was doing his best to smother his smirk behind one hand. He was failing miserably.

“Alright, I’ll clean up,” Y/N said, already moving toward the weapon rack.

“No need.” Mydei stepped in front of her, reaching down to pick up her sword instead. He turned it over in his hands, the blade catching the light.

Y/N tilted her head. “What?”

He exhaled slowly. Fine. If words don’t work, maybe actions will.

“This isn’t good enough for you,” he said, inspecting the sword with mild disdain before looking back at her. “It’s too light. Not balanced properly. You need something better.”

Y/N blinked. “I mean, I like it—”

“It’s not good enough.” His voice was firm, brooking no argument. “Come with me.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and started walking toward the armory.

Y/N hesitated for only a second before following.

Behind them, Phainon slow-blinked before standing as well. “Oh, I have to see this.”

The moment they stepped inside, Y/N’s eyes lit up. The rows of polished weapons, the gleaming suits of armor, the scent of oiled leather and sharpened steel—it was beautiful.

Mydei didn’t waste time. He led her straight to a display of swords, scanning them with a critical eye.

“This one.” He reached for a blade and held it out to her.

Y/N took it carefully, her fingers curling around the hilt. It was heavier than her old one, the craftsmanship finer. The weight felt solid in her grip. “Whoa… This is nice.”

Mydei nodded in satisfaction. “It’ll suit you better.”

She grinned. “Thanks! I’ll make sure to train hard with it.”

Mydei’s expression remained unreadable as he stepped slightly closer, lowering his voice. “It’s not just about training.”

Y/N blinked up at him. “Huh?”

Mydei exhaled slowly, as if willing her to understand. “Weapons are important in Kremnos. They’re an extension of yourself. You don’t just use them—you rely on them, trust them.” He paused, his gold eyes steady on hers. “Giving someone a weapon is a sign of trust. Of something deeper.”

For a moment, the air between them shifted.

Then—

“Ohhh, this is fantastic,” Phainon’s voice cut in, absolutely thrilled.

Mydei tensed visibly as Y/N turned to look at him.

Phainon leaned against a nearby rack, arms crossed, grinning like he had just found his new favorite thing in the world.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to do this,” Phainon continued. “And yet—” he gestured vaguely at Y/N, who was still just smiling in appreciation, utterly unaware “—she still doesn’t get it.”

Y/N frowned. “Get what?”

Mydei gritted his teeth.

Phainon snickered. “Nothing, sweetheart. Nothing at all.”

Y/N huffed and turned back to Mydei, giving the sword a few practice swings. “Anyway, this really is amazing. I love it. Thank you, Mydei.”

For a fraction of a second, Mydei felt his composure slip. Her words—simple as they were—settled deep in his chest.

“…Good,” he muttered, looking away.

Phainon grinned wider. Oh, this was never going to get old.

The streets of Okhema bustled with life, filled with merchants calling out their wares, the scent of fresh bread and spices filling the air. Y/N strolled ahead, glancing at the different stalls with interest, occasionally stopping to admire something or chat with a vendor.

Phainon and Mydei trailed behind her, the latter watching her carefully, as if contemplating his next move.

“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Phainon asked, smirking.

Mydei barely spared him a glance. “Thinking about what?”

“Your next attempt.” Phainon stretched his arms behind his head. “It’s honestly fascinating watching you try.”

Mydei ignored him. This time, he had a new approach. If direct gifts and sparring didn’t work, perhaps a more… personal experience would.

Ahead of them, Y/N had stopped at a fruit stall, eyes lighting up at the sight of some unfamiliar fruit. “Oh, these look amazing.”

The vendor grinned. “A rare specialty! Grown only in the far southern regions.”

Y/N hummed in thought. “I wonder what they taste like.”

Before she could reach for one, Mydei had already stepped forward. With a single sharp glance, he picked out the best-looking fruit, tossed a few coins onto the counter, and turned to her.

“Here.” He held it out, his expression unreadable.

Y/N blinked. “Oh, wow! Thanks, Mydei!” She accepted it without hesitation and took a bite. “Ohhh, this is so good.”

Mydei watched her reaction carefully, the smallest bit of satisfaction creeping in. Finally, progress.

Then—

“So, this is your next strategy?” Phainon’s voice practically purred from beside him.

Mydei’s eye twitched.

Y/N, still savoring the fruit, turned to them. “Strategy? What are you talking about?”

Phainon casually leaned against a nearby stall, his smirk widening. “Oh, nothing. Just admiring Mydei’s… tactics.”

Mydei clenched his jaw, barely restraining the urge to throw Phainon into the nearest crate of cabbages.

Y/N, still blissfully unaware, happily chewed. “You should try one too, Mydei! Here.”

Without hesitation, she grabbed his wrist and pressed the fruit to his lips.

For half a second, Mydei froze. His gold eyes locked onto hers, and the world tilted just slightly.

She had no idea. None at all.

And then, as if to torture him further, Phainon let out the most obnoxiously loud snort of laughter Mydei had ever heard.

“You—” Mydei turned his head just slightly, glaring.

Phainon held up both hands, but his shoulders shook with silent laughter. “Oh, please continue. This is beautiful.”

Meanwhile, Y/N was still waiting. “What’s wrong?”

Nothing. Everything.

Slowly, Mydei leaned forward, taking a small bite from the fruit she still held up for him. The sweet taste lingered on his tongue, but the warmth of her fingers against his was far more distracting.

“Good,” he murmured.

Y/N beamed. “Right?! We should buy more!”

She turned back to the vendor, already discussing how many she wanted, completely missing the way Mydei exhaled sharply, reining himself back in.

Beside him, Phainon wiped a tear from his eye. “You are so down bad, it’s actually painful.”

Mydei didn’t even respond. He simply took another slow breath, clenched his fists, and prepared for his next attempt.

Because he would succeed. Eventually.

Maybe.

The evening air in Okhema had cooled, the market’s liveliness gradually settling into a more relaxed hum. People wandered at a slower pace, street lamps flickering to life, casting a warm glow over the cobbled paths.

Mydei sat alone on a bench near the marketplace, arms crossed, his golden eyes narrowed in deep thought. The interaction from earlier still lingered in his mind—the way she had unknowingly flustered him, the way Phainon had nearly died laughing at his expense.

This isn’t working.

He had given her a sword. He had sparred with her, tested her strength, tried to offer her food—all of which were clear, meaningful signs of courting in Kremnos. And yet, she remained completely, utterly oblivious.

He exhaled sharply, his frustration barely contained.

Then came the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps.

Phainon.

Mydei didn’t even have to look up to know it was him.

“Sulking already?” Phainon drawled, dropping down onto the bench beside him, stretching his arms behind his head. “Didn’t think I’d see the great Mydei looking so defeated.”

Mydei scowled. “I’m not defeated.”

“Oh?” Phainon smirked, turning his blue eyes toward him. “Because from where I’m sitting, it sure looks like it.”

Mydei exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. He hated this. Not the challenge—he lived for challenges—but the sheer absurdity of this one.

“What else am I supposed to do?” he muttered, more to himself than to Phainon. “She doesn’t understand what any of it means.”

Phainon’s smirk widened. “Well, yeah. That’s the best part.”

Mydei turned to glare at him, and Phainon held up his hands in mock surrender.

“Look,” Phainon continued, clearly enjoying himself. “If she doesn’t understand Kremnoan courting, then maybe it’s time you try something… else.”

“…Else?”

Phainon nodded, shifting to lean forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “You’ve been treating this like a battle—strategizing, making moves, all that. But Y/N’s not Kremnoan, Mydei. She doesn’t think like one.”

Mydei frowned, considering this.

“So.” Phainon grinned. “Lucky for you, I happen to have a very brilliant idea.”

Mydei arched a brow. “You?”

Phainon placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “I’ll ignore that. Because this idea? Foolproof.”

Mydei sighed. “Let’s hear it, then.”

Phainon’s grin widened.

“We make her fall for you,” he said smoothly. “The way she’d understand.”

Mydei narrowed his eyes. “And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?”

Phainon leaned in slightly. “Simple. We play by her rules.”

Mydei remained skeptical, but Phainon only laughed.

“Oh, trust me,” Phainon said, clapping a hand on Mydei’s shoulder. “This is going to be fun.”

Phainon’s grin had only grown wider as he observed the skepticism on Mydei’s face. The Kremnoan warrior looked utterly unconvinced, his golden eyes scrutinizing him as if trying to gauge whether this was another one of his ridiculous ideas.

Spoiler: It was.

But that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work.

“Alright,” Mydei said at last, arms still crossed. “I’ll bite. What’s your plan?”

Phainon leaned back, tapping a finger against his chin. “Well, first of all, let’s establish something—you’ve been trying to court Y/N your way, right? Sparring, weapons, food, all that.”

“Yes.”

“And she has no idea what’s happening.”

“…Yes.”

Phainon clapped his hands together. “Which means it’s time for a new approach. One that makes sense to her.”

Mydei gave him a flat stare. “You keep saying that. What does it mean?”

Phainon grinned. “It means we’re going to romance her the way she understands.”

Silence.

Mydei stared at him as if he’d just suggested storming a fortress alone and unarmed.

“…What?”

“Oh, you heard me,” Phainon said, far too pleased with himself. “If she doesn’t understand Kremnoan courting, then we do it her way. Flirting, compliments, maybe even gasp—” he feigned a dramatic pause “—a date.”

Mydei visibly stiffened. “That’s—”

“Not your style? Obviously,” Phainon cut in, waving a hand. “But that’s the point. You need to do something different.”

Mydei looked like he was regretting every choice that had led him to this conversation. “…A date.”

“A casual one,” Phainon said, nodding sagely. “Something low pressure. You don’t have to call it a date if that makes you want to run into battle instead.”

Mydei still didn’t look convinced.

Phainon sighed. “Listen, Mydei. Do you want her to see you as more than a sparring partner, or do you want to keep swinging swords at each other forever?”

Silence again.

Then, Mydei exhaled sharply through his nose, golden eyes dark with reluctant acceptance.

“…Fine.”

Phainon smirked. “Great. Step one: You’re going to ask her to spend time with you—outside of training.”

Mydei narrowed his eyes. “Like…?”

Phainon shrugged. “A walk. A festival. Even something as simple as grabbing food together.” He smirked. “You do eat, don’t you?”

Mydei rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“Good,” Phainon said. “Now for step two—compliments.”

Mydei looked even more reluctant at that.

Phainon grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you out.” He cleared his throat, adopting a dramatic pose. “Y/N, your strength in battle is admirable, but it’s your presence that truly sets the battlefield ablaze—”

Mydei promptly shoved him off the bench.

Phainon howled with laughter as he hit the ground.

“You deserved that,” Mydei muttered.

“I absolutely did,” Phainon wheezed, sitting up. “But you get my point.”

Mydei exhaled, rubbing his temple. “…Fine. I’ll try.”

Phainon beamed. “That’s the spirit.”

Now, he just had to see how Mydei would pull this off.

It took Mydei two full days to actually work up the nerve to put Phainon’s ridiculous plan into action.

It wasn’t that he was scared—he was a warrior, after all. He had faced countless battles, endured rigorous training, and held his own against some of the strongest fighters in Okhema.

But this?

This was an entirely different kind of battlefield.

Phainon, of course, was enjoying every moment of it. He was leaning against a nearby wall, arms crossed, watching Mydei with way too much amusement as he approached Y/N.

Mydei shot him a warning glare before he turned his focus on her.

She was standing in the courtyard, stretching her arms after finishing some light training. The late afternoon sun caught in her hair, making her look…

…Tch. He wasn’t going to let himself get distracted.

“Y/N.” His voice came out sharper than intended.

She blinked and looked over at him, smiling. “Oh, hey, Mydei. What’s up?”

Mydei cleared his throat. Okay. Casual. Just ask her to spend time with you.

“…Would you like to join me?”

Y/N tilted her head. “For what?”

Damn it, Mydei, specify.

He clenched his jaw. “To—” He barely stopped himself from saying train. “…For food.”

Her eyes lit up. “Oh! Sure! I’m starving.”

Phainon, from the sidelines, gave Mydei a double thumbs-up.

Mydei ignored him.

It wasn’t a date.

At least, Mydei wasn’t calling it that.

But sitting across from Y/N at the bustling market eatery, watching her happily pick at the food, he couldn’t ignore the… different feeling settling in his chest.

This wasn’t sparring. There were no weapons, no battle strategies.

Just… her.

“This place has really good food,” Y/N said between bites. “I’m surprised you suggested it.”

“…Why?” Mydei asked.

She shrugged. “I dunno, I figured if we were hanging out outside of training, it’d be something warrior-like.” She grinned. “Like arm wrestling or hunting a beast or something.”

Mydei’s grip on his drink tightened. “I can do things other than fight.”

“I know, I just—” She laughed. “It’s just funny seeing you in a setting like this.”

“…Is it?”

“A little.” She smiled. “But I like it.”

Mydei’s brain shut down for a second.

Phainon, who was conveniently sitting at a table nearby (acting as the world’s worst ‘subtle observer’), nearly choked on his drink.

To Y/N, it was just a casual statement.

To Mydei?

It felt like a damn victory.

…Tch. Focus.

“Your form has improved,” he said suddenly, the words coming out before he could stop them.

Y/N blinked. “Huh?”

Mydei set his cup down. “Your footwork. I noticed it earlier. More controlled.”

Y/N perked up. “Oh! Thanks! I’ve been working on it.”

Encouraged by the way her face lit up, Mydei pushed forward.

“Your speed, too. Faster than before.”

She grinned. “You are paying attention.”

“Of course I am.”

Y/N laughed. “Wow, Mydei. That was almost a compliment.”

“…It was a compliment.”

She giggled. “I know, I know, I just like teasing you.”

From across the room, Phainon wiped a fake tear from his eye. He’s learning.

After their not-a-date, Mydei realized something.

Compliments actually worked.

And so, he tried again.

The next day, they were walking through the city streets when he noticed Y/N adjusting her outfit, fixing the loose fabric.

It was a simple gesture. Nothing unusual.

But Mydei—remembering Phainon’s words about flirting in a way she understands—decided to speak.

“That suits you.”

Y/N blinked up at him. “Huh?”

“The color,” he said, a little gruffly. “It looks good on you.”

Y/N looked down at herself, then back up at him with a surprised smile.

“Oh… thanks!”

She was happy.

Which meant he was satisfied.

But just as he was about to move on, Phainon—who had been lurking (again)—whistled.

Mydei turned sharply to see him leaning against a stall, watching with barely contained laughter.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” Phainon said, waving a hand. “I’m just so proud.”

Mydei clenched his jaw. Ignore him. Ignore him.

But Phainon wasn’t done.

“You’re really improving, Mydei. Soon you’ll be a natural at this!”

Mydei grabbed the nearest fruit off a vendor’s stall and chucked it at him.

Phainon dodged (barely) and ran off, laughing his ass off.

Y/N, completely oblivious to all of it, just smiled at Mydei again.

“…You’re being really nice today.”

I am always nice, Mydei wanted to say, but that would be a blatant lie.

Instead, he muttered, “Tch. Don’t get used to it.”

And somehow, that made her laugh.

Mydei had never taken Phainon’s advice before.

Mostly because Phainon was an idiot.

But after their last conversation—where Phainon insisted that “small, casual touches” were an effective way to fluster someone—Mydei found himself considering it.

Ridiculous, he had thought at first. Pointless.

And yet…

Here he was.

They were walking back through the marketplace again. The setting sun cast warm orange hues across the stone streets, and the air buzzed with the chatter of vendors closing up for the day.

Y/N walked beside him, talking animatedly about something—he wasn’t even sure what. He was distracted.

Because a strand of her hair had come loose, falling in front of her face.

This is it, Mydei thought.

Phainon’s voice echoed in his head: Just brush her hair back. It’s a smooth move. Works every time.

Dumb.

But effective?

There was only one way to find out.

So he did it.

Mid-conversation, he reached out, fingers brushing lightly against her cheek as he tucked the stray strand of hair behind her ear.

Simple. Quick. Just as Phainon suggested.

But the reaction?

He hadn’t expected that.

Y/N froze. Mid-step, mid-sentence.

Her words died in her throat as her eyes widened slightly.

For once, she was flustered.

She blinked up at him, a little stunned, her mouth opening like she wanted to say something—but nothing came out.

Mydei stared back at her, and for a brief moment, he felt a rush of satisfaction.

Then it hit him.

Oh.

Oh no.

What if she realizes? What if she figures it out?

He hadn’t thought that far ahead.

So, naturally, he did what he always did in unfamiliar situations—he defaulted to stoicism.

“…Your hair was in your face,” he said gruffly, looking away as if it was nothing.

Y/N blinked again. “Oh. Uh—right. Thanks.”

She laughed, a little awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck.

Mission success?

Mydei wasn’t sure. But he was sure of one thing—

Phainon, who had been watching from a nearby rooftop (because of course he was), was howling with laughter.

Mydei shot him a glare so deadly it could’ve killed a god.

Phainon just wiped a tear from his eye and gave him a dramatic thumbs-up.

Later that evening, when Y/N had gone off on her own, Mydei found himself regretting everything.

Because Phainon was never going to let this go.

“Oh Mydei,” Phainon sang, throwing an arm around his shoulder as they walked. “You absolute natural. Did you see her face? She froze. I almost fell off the roof trying not to scream.”

“Shut up.”

Phainon ignored him. “The hair move was perfect. Subtle. Smooth. I’m so proud.”

Mydei exhaled sharply, shrugging him off. “It was nothing.”

“It was everything,” Phainon countered. “You’re actually getting somewhere! Now you just need to—”

“I don’t need your advice.”

“Sure you do,” Phainon grinned. “Because I know you’re going to try again.”

Mydei said nothing.

Because, damn it, he wasn’t wrong.

After Phainon had finally stopped laughing, Mydei swore to himself that he wouldn’t take his advice again. Ever.

And yet, here he was.

Again.

Y/N walked beside him, completely oblivious to his internal struggle. The sun had set, and lanterns flickered along the streets, casting a soft glow over the marketplace. She hummed quietly as she admired some trinkets on display, utterly at ease.

Meanwhile, Mydei was not at ease.

Phainon’s words still echoed in his head: You need to build tension, Mydei. Do something that’ll make her think about you when you’re not around.

Mydei had no idea what the hell that even meant. But after the small success earlier, he figured a slightly bolder approach wouldn’t hurt.

Probably.

As they walked, Y/N turned to say something—he barely even heard what. He just saw an opportunity.

So he reached out and—without thinking—lightly brushed his knuckles under her chin, tilting her face up to his for just a second.

The second their eyes met, he let go.

And kept walking like nothing happened.

Y/N stood frozen in place. Again.

Mouth slightly open. Completely, utterly stunned.

Then—

Did her face just turn red?

For a brief, glorious moment, Mydei almost smirked.

And then—

A very, very loud choking sound came from behind them.

Phainon.

Mydei didn’t have to turn around to know his so-called friend was probably on the ground from laughing too hard.

Y/N, still dazed, finally snapped out of it. “Uh—what was—”

“Nothing,” Mydei said quickly.

Y/N frowned, confused, but didn’t push it. “Right. Okay…”

And just like that, she kept walking, muttering something under her breath.

Mydei exhaled slowly.

Was it perfect? No.

Did he get some kind of reaction? Yes.

And that? That was a victory.

Phainon finally caught up to him, barely holding himself together. “I—I can’t—I can’t breathe—”

Mydei shot him a sharp look. “Say another word and I will throw you off this bridge.”

Phainon wiped away a tear, gasping between laughs. “Worth it.”

Mydei sighed. He’d deal with Phainon later.

For now…

He just glanced at Y/N ahead of him—still slightly pink in the face.

Maybe, just maybe, he was finally getting somewhere.

Twst birthday headcanons

Characters: Leona, Vil, Idia, Lilia and Cater

A/n: So today is my birthday!!!! And I wrote some headcanons for my favorite twst boys and how they celebrate with you <3

Leona Kingscholar

You wake up with Leona's arms around you, sunlight barely shining through the curtains because he made sure they were drawn shut the night before. He’s not a morning person, and if it were up to him, you wouldn’t get out of bed at all.

"Tch. You’re already awake? Go back to sleep, it’s your birthday. No one’s expectin’ you to be up this early." He grumbles, pulling you closer.

Eventually, after lots of coaxing (and maybe a few bribes in the form of kisses), you are able get out of bed.

Leona’s not the type for big parties, but he does something thoughtful in his own way, like making Ruggie organize you a romantic picnic in the botanical garden. He doesn’t even complain when you take loads of pictures with him.

The day ends with you lying in bed the same as that morning, Leona holding you in his arms, muttering one last “Happy birthday, herbivore,” before drifting off to sleep.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil insists that you start your birthday right, which means waking up in silk sheets, with a a perfect breakfast that is perfect in taste, aesthetic and nutrition because you only deserve the best.

He personally supervises every step of your morning routine, making sure your skin is flawless and that you’re as radiant as ever. "It’s your day, and I won’t have you looking anything less than perfect."

You’re going to to be pampered the entire day (even more than usual). A shopping trip? A spa day? A private dinner with an exclusive menu? He’s thought of everything.

His gift is something incredibly personalized, maybe a fragrance he designed just for you, or a limited edition item from your favorite brand.

At the end of the night, he sits with you on the balcony, sharing a quiet toast to another year together. "My darling, every day with you is a gift. But today, the world itself should celebrate you."

Idia Shroud

The morning starts with you waking up alone, only to find that Idia technically never slept. Instead, he was up all night setting up the ultimate birthday gaming experience for you.

"G-Good morning! Uh—sorry if I woke your up, but look! I made a whole list of games that fit your tastes, and we can play all day, no interruptions."

He isn't the type for regular parties but maybe he set up a virtual surprise where NPCs from your favorite games wish you happy birthday.

His gift? Probably something like a customized controller, or even him buying you any game skin you want. He tries to act nonchalant about it, but his ears are burning red when he gives it to you.

At the end of the night he shyly offers you to lean against his shoulder while you continue gaming. "I-It’s fine if you wanna sleep here. I mean it’s your birthday, so… whatever makes you happy."

Lilia Vanrouge

You wake up not because of an alarm, but because Lilia is already hovering over you, grinning mischievously. "Rise and shine, birthday star~!"

He’s so excited. Probably already made breakfast especially for you (though whether it’s edible is another story).

The whole day is a bit of chaos and fun, he drags you to some kind of adventure, even if it’s just sneaking into different parts of the campus for fun.

His gift is maybe something sentimental like a charm with protective magic or a handwritten letter filled with reasons why he loves you.

The night ends with him humming a soft melody for you, coaxing you to relax. "Another year older, another year more wonderful. You’ll always have me by your side, my dear."

Cater Diamond

You wake up to your phone blowing up, Cater’s already posted a barrage of cute birthday messages and pictures for you. "Gotta make sure everyone knows it’s your special day, y’know?"

He wanted to really make your day special for you so he hid little gifts all over for you to find. Each one has a cute note attached, making you feel extra appreciated.

His actual gift? A scrapbook filled with memories, photos, little doodles, messages from your friends. He loves seeing you smile while you look at each of the pages .

At the end of the day, he insists on a sunset selfie, just the two of you, with the golden light making everything look unreal. "This one’s for the memories, babe. Here’s to another year of being iconic together!"

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Calling Them ‘Hun’

(Hey look I’ve wrote a thing! So often times I’ll call people I really like ‘hun’(or some variation of it) and I was wondering how some characters would react to it! (Maybe OOC?))

Twisted Wonderland Characters x Reader

Genre: Platonic/Romantic, Fluff

Characters: Malleus, Azul, Ace, Rook, Idia

~~~~~~

Malleus

Blinks. Does a double take towards you.

Is pretty sure he hears Sebek scream somewhere down the Diasomnia hallways.

He had called out to you upon seeing you visit, and stalls when you turn to him with a gentle “what’s up, hun?”

He quickly regathers his senses, enjoying your company as he normally would, perhaps with a boyish smile now.

Please call him hun again.

Azul

Oh god.

Floyd is never going to let him live this down, why’d you call him that in front of the eel?

Do not take that as a complaint though.

He may look as salty as his homeland in the sea right now, but call him that again private?

Prepare for a very cuddly octopus.

Ace

You said it on accident, really.

Does a triple take, staring like you just grew a second head.

Oh.

Ohohoh.

He is never letting you live this down, jokingly calling you hun in return as if he doesn’t secretly wish he could say it not as a joke for once.

A good pinch does get him to shut up though.

Rook

Nothing could’ve prepared you for the onslaught of French nicknames, each one more embarrassing than the last.

You thought it would be cute to say it at least once, to try and get him back for the occasional nickname he’d give you.

Clearly that was a mistake.

This man will not leave you alone now, following you step by step and singing romantic words of your budding relationship.

Eventually, you figure out how to get him to finally shut up, and that is to simply face him with your hands on your hips and call him hun one more time.

You don’t miss the way he melts this time.

Idia

Bluescreens.

Quite literally.

All combos broken, fingers frozen over whatever it was he was doing.

Turns as pink as his fiery hair does.

You begin to worry when he doesn’t respond within five minutes. Or move, for that matter.

You have to go get Ortho, voice tearful as you explain you may have broken his brother.

Okay okay, my ideas:

Bestfolk claims 'ownership' by biting. So if you bite a beastperson you're close to, it's considered a proposal. Now imagine one day, let's say Ruggie steals your food, and tries to run away. You chase him, you two start fighting, and you bite him. He freezes because Are you serious?! He has to tell his grandma right away, her little boy found someone! Or maybe Leona annoyed you because he skipped something again and you got in trouble for. In petty retaliation, you bite his ear. The dorm falls silent, and Leona is shook because how bold can you be?! Doing that in front of everyone?! You know he won't be king, right? And you still want to... Okay.

For Riddle, I can imagine there's a rule for it. It's pretty complicated, but somehow you managed to hit it to a T. Riddle is flustered, because you wouldn't do these things just for the sake of it, right?! Not in the correct order, not in this perfect way. You must know the rule, and this is a proposal, right?! Just.. give him a bit. You're both still so young, but rest assured he feels the same way.

Scarabia I can imagine their country has an old timey way of proposing. Because it's based on Aladdin, I can imagine it involves Jasmine flowers and a phrasing of fulfilling all wishes. Like making a flower crown out of jasmines, placing it on your beloved's head and telling them if they have any wishes, you'd be happy to fulfill them. Jamil is just frozen in shock. He's a servant, he was always told he comes second, he always had to give everything up to Kalim. Yet here you are, proposing to him. He can't believe his luck, and he'll make sure to be the best, so you won't ever think of leaving. Kalim on the other hand is just extatic, hugging you tightly and telling you of course and how much he loves you. You're confused, but okay. You did just promise to fulfill every wish he might have, he probably means he'll wish for you to come to every party. That'd be something Kalim would do. Until you visit Scarabia the next time, and everyone is preparing some big event. And Jamil is miffed at you because didn't warn him, and Kalim sprung this engagement party just on him. Do you not know the stuff he had to prepare?!

Pomefiore is different. Harveston probably has an old tradition of proposing too. But it's so old, no one really does it anymore. It's meant to show you can provide for your partner. Cooking and being able to carry them over the doorstep. So one evening, Epel comes to visit to escape Vil for a bit and vent. You listen, and offer him some of the food you made. By coincidence, it happens to be his favorite. You two banter, and somehow the topic comes to strength, and Epel confidentaly says he could carry you. You decide to test it, and he manages! For a few seconds, at least. Then, it's your turn, you pick him up, carry him a few steps. From the kitchen to the living room. Over a doorstep. Only on his way back to Pomefiore does Epel realize all this. You can't have known, right? Then again, you were in Harveston with him. Maybe his grandma told you? Vil's is easier. You know he wants to embody the Fairest Queen, but what you don't know is, that people sometimes used a mirror to propose for that. They'd hold it to their beloved's face and spill their heart out, as if they are the enchanted mirror from the tale. One day, you walk in on Rook trying to compliment Vil with a mirror. You take it from Rook, and give Vil compliments beyond his looks. Complimenting his passion, his determination, how his eyes look when he does something he loves, etc. Vil is flustered, because do you know what you're doing? Well, one way or another, he now knows who he wants to bring to the altar one day.

OMG WAIT THIS IS SOOOO CUTE I LOVE IT

all these scenarios are adorable and I would 100% accidentally do them ;-;

I bite out of affection so woops maybe I'm accidentally marrying Leona-

Hey there! I loved giving Malleus a stone as an accidental proposal! It would make sense to me that mers would also see it as that! Could we possibly get one with Floyd Azul or Jade?

omg yes absolutely! Thinking about it, merfolk probably would also take it as a proposal! Especially with their culture being inspired by The little mermaid and she loved to collect things. I love this request! For those of you who haven't seen the Malleus part, it's linked below!

Request rules and Masterlists

Accidentally proposing to Malleus with a rock

Accidentally proposing with a rock (Octavinelle)

Floyd:

It was an innocent gesture. You wanted to give Floyd a rock to show you care about him. A simple gift that you thought he'd like. Well, you think he likes it a little too much.

When you gave the rock to Floyd, his eyes went wide, and he quickly smiled and pulled you into a tight hug (careful not to hurt you too much), "Awwww of course!"

He seemed so happy to get the rock, it honestly surprised you. Then he started lurking around you more. Like, hovering behind you and picking you up at random times to carry you around anywhere. When you asked, he said he had a right to carry and lurk now.

You also caught Jade snickering more than usual at you and Floyd, like he knew something you didn't. But both him and Floyd didn't elaborate. Instead, Floyd laughed and wrapped his arms around you, setting his head atop yours, "Silly silly~"

It wasn't until later when you visited the Mostro Lounge's VIP room that you got a hint of what was happening. Normally you'd just go there to hang out, but you'd noticed Azul was unusually frustrated today. When he saw you, it only seemed to set him off on a rant as he paced about the room.

"I can't believe this. Of all the things you could've given, and to all the people...I can't even begin to imagine what's going through your mind. You must be as impulsive as him to do this and with such short notice! Now he wants to use the whole lounge for a day and dumps all these things to prepare on me. Could you not have waited until I've graduated at least so I wouldn't have to put of with this? You two could at least help me instead of leaving me to figure out how to cater for an entire wedding without giving me any specifics-"

At this point, you kind of zoned out because you were stuck on the whole "wedding" part. What?

As Azul paced around the room and ranted, without you fully listening, your mind was working to put together the pieces. He clearly was blaming you for something, and impulsivity could only mean Floyd was involved. That, and he mentioned giving him something...

Oh no...

Right on time, Floyd had strolled into the room, completely interrupting Azul's rant. But the second his eyes landed on you, his expression lit up and he'd made his way over to you. His arms quickly wrapped around you and he basically leaned all of his weight on you as he cheered, "There you are. I've been looking all over for you. What're you doing here with Azul?"

Hesitantly, you had to ask, "Floyd, what's going on?"

Tilting his head, he rested his cheek on top of your head and hummed in amusement, "Ah. Azul's just jealous of us. Getting married while he's stuck talking all business and contracts."

You're what? Did you hear that right?

Before you could ask anything else or try and explain anything, he'd picked you up again, and started walking out of the room with you. A very frustrated Azul calling out to you two, "At least give me something!"

Only for Floyd to wave a hand dismissively as he carried you out, "Nah. You got this. We're busy."

Something told you he wasn't going to let you just back out or call it a friendship rock...

Jade:

You like to think you know Jade pretty well. You've spent a lot of time together, so you thought it'd be a great idea to give him a little gift. So when you found this nice smooth and pretty rock, you knew it'd be the perfect gift for him. It's even practical since he can put it in one of his terrariums!

He even seemed happy when you gave it to him, after brief shock of course, and he had that sharp-toothed smile you knew well.

"Well well, I must say I never expected you to be so bold to give me something like this, but I accept."

That was all he said. You weren't really sure why it'd require boldness, but he didn't elaborate and instead brushed it off and quickly left saying he had work to do.

The day carried on as normal until you saw Floyd. He ran up to you and swung you around, "There you areee~ Welcome to the family! Ma's gonna love ya!"

Disoriented, dizzy, and confused, you had to ask, "Floyd? What are you talking about?"

He swung you around once more before finally setting you down, "Ah, you know. Proposing to Jade like that? Real brave of you."

Huh? Proposing?

But in a true Floyd fashion, he just ginned and waved goodbye as he scurried off, leaving you with many questions. The only way you'd probably get answers is to ask the man himself. So, you quickly made your way to the Mostro Lounge.

There, Jade was setting up some tables, as composed and collected as ever. Seeing you, he straightened up with that same sharp-toothed smile as earlier, and welcomed you, "Good, you're here dear. We have a small dinner to celebrate our engagement before we can begin making preparations."

Stunned by the wildness of it all, you tried to nervously correct him, "Jade, I feel like there might've been a slight misunderstanding-"

"Nonsense," He began, stepping closer and wrapping an arm around you, "It's common knowledge that gifting a special rock is a marriage proposal among merfolk. You're mine now, dear."

Azul:

Azul and you are really close. There was no denying it when you spent so much time at the Mostro Lounge VIP room just hanging out with him. So you thought you’d do something nice for him and get him a little gift.

Then there was this perfect rock you found. It was smooth and round with specks of blue and purple, perfect for Azul.

You didn’t expect him to act so…odd when you have it to him. You held it out in your hand towards him, and he just stared at you in shock. His face turned about as red as Riddle’s hair, and you could tell he was struggling to speak. If Jade and Floyd were here, they’d no doubt tease him for the look on his face.

After a few moments of stunned silence (you figured it was best to just be patient and wait for him to collect himself), he took the rock with slightly shaky hands. He held the rock close to him, over his heart, and took a deep breath. Then, he cleared his throat, and tried his best to answer, “I…wasn’t aware you felt so strongly, but it’s clear now. Don’t you worry, I can handle this. I’m…delighted to receive this.”

Not thinking much of his words, you simply smiled at him. It wasn’t uncommon for Azul to get a bit flustered by small gestures. He wasn’t treated well as a child, so you know little shows of appreciation mean a lot to him.

He scurried off with the rock to his office moments later, and there was silence for a moment before you heard him sputtering on the other side of the door. He probably would be embarrassed if you listened in though, and you wanted to spare him (this time).

The day went on as usual for a while. Classes went by, you spoke to some other friends, and went to visit the Mostro Lounge again later.

But the Lounge was…busier than normal. Students who worked there were scrambling about trying to serve customers and clean and adjust the smallest of details on things. Several of them looked super stressed, and some looked like they were about to pass out. Jade and Floyd, were the only calm ones who stood off to the side, watching them all with amused smiles.

You went up to them to ask what was happening, but Floyd spoke before you could, “Can ya let Azul flounder a bit longer? This is fun to watch.”

Azul was floundering? But he’s usually so calm and collected when he’s working. He couldn’t still be flustered from your gift earlier, right?

“What’s going on with Azul?”

Jade chuckled and was the one to answer you, “You sent him on quite the spiral. He’s got everyone working overtime to make sure everything is perfect for you.”

Now more confused, you had to ask, “Me? What did I do?”

At that, the duo only laughed more, clearly knowing something you don’t, but refusing to elaborate at you and everyone else’s expense. There was only one way you were going to get an answer; from Azul himself.

Marching past the two, you made your way to Azul’s office, barely knocking before going in.

And boy was he startled. The second you entered the room he sat up straighter and his cheeks turned pink, but he quickly tried to hide it behind his hand and muttered, “Ah, you’re here. My apologies, I’m still working on the contract right now.”

Walking up to his desk in complete confusion, you asked, “What contract? What’s going on?”

There was a moment of silence throughout the room. His gloved hands fidgeted with the pen and papers on his desk in front of him, trying to figure out the right words to say.

Then, he slid the paper over to you for you to read. Well, you only read the top before sitting stunned.

‘Contract of Marriage’

Huh???

Now it was your turn to be stunned into silence. So, he filled the silence, “I…was quite surprised by your gesture earlier, but I accept. If you’ll have me, I’d love for you to sign this. It’s quite possibly the best contract I’ve ever written.”

Being Clever with the Fae (Malleus x Reader, Lilia x Reader, Sebek x Reader)

Pre-established relationship implied. You tell the Diasomnia boys that your world planned for ways to outsmart faes. You pull your trick but you're not sure who won.

Warning: Pepaw Bat's gets a little spicy so be careful.

I'm taking liberties with Sebek's part because he's a neutral for me and I don't know that much about him.

You and Malleus had talked about fae folklore more than once. He was delighted to know fae had something of a presence in your world but was wildly horrified at the misinformation. Out of everything you told him, only a handful were correct:

Don't give your name unless you trust that fae because names have power

Iron will hurt some fae but not all. Iron is more harmful to nocturnal fae than day fae.

Being rude to fae may be the end of you altogether

Partaking in fae food means you open yourself up for a wager

Yes, fae like to play tricks. Expect them and be wary.

Stepping into a fairy circle will summon the fairy who made it.

Just about everything else was wrong. That's why he and Lilia were teaching you what not to do if you came upon the various fae in Twisted Wonderland. Thus far you'd only managed to memorize what herbs kept smaller creatures at bay and how to curry the favor of the various faeries that helped out at NRC. Your current assignment from Lilia was filling out a map of different fae territories and classifying them as 'safe' for humans or 'unsafe'. Each territory had a tree they would love to craft from or loathed to be near and you were expected to know that, too.

Strange stuff but apparently it was important.

They liked to break up the bigger chunks of information with smaller, digestible things like etiquette so it felt more manageable. Malleus was currently instructing you on how to part from a fae in a formal setting as to not incur their wrath.

"Again, Child of Man," he's bowed down until eye level with you, one hand holding yours.

"Light shake, eye contact, nod, slide foot back, squeeze the hand, turn." he's parroting your motions until you turn away. He, instead, draws himself to his full height and observes as you pretend to walk away.

"Excellent," he nods. "But ensure you don't slouch while leaving. It will make some feel as if you don't hold them in high regard."

"That's so--" you roll your eyes. He simply lifts his brow as if to question your mild frustration. You puff your cheeks out and he laughs.

"We can be a bit particular." he agrees.

"To a fault." you smirk.

"Oh?" he's intrigued, eyes twinkling.

"Yeah," you smile. "In my world the fae were known for being literal with their word so you always had to keep something clever in reserve."

"Do tell," Malleus' grin goes from practiced and polite to genuine. A hint of fang shows.

"It's kind of specific though. Depends on that old joke about fae wanting to come for the first born."

"That's not really a joke," Malleus crossed his arms. You can't tell if he's offended or not. "We like the younglings. We're always looking to bring more around to the fae ways. In fact, fae make fantastic guardians because--"

He had a lot to say and you felt the beginnings of a lecture creep up. In some way you felt like you were in trouble. To save yourself, you said, "Just pretend. Then I can show you what we do."

Malleus pretended to make a deal with you. It looked a bit intimidating and official with the magic pulsing in the rickety floorboards of Ramshackle. They were groaning. Shadows danced along his face as pieces of his signature thorned briar wove around your joined hands. "In exchange for the repairs around Ramshackle, you will give your firstborn to me."

You pull him in, his green eyes searching curiously for any hint of what's to come. "Sure! How soon do you want to start working on that? Or do you want to wait a little while?"

All at once the floorboards fell quite. The hum of magic died with a rattle that broke the briar into tiny pieces. A few fell at your feet, the others shooting off into various directions.

Oh. Did he not understand? You thought it was clever! Maybe he was too sheltered to--

His laugh is kind of a snort at first but then you hear it honest and lilting. The hand holding yours slides up your arm and snakes around your waist. You're lifted until your hands find purchase on his shoulders and your legs wrap around whatever they reach. Your heart goes from your chest to your throat when his gloved hands slide down to your thighs as he walks you to your sad couch.

"Now is fine," he's careful to hold his weight above you, silky hair spilling around you and tickling your cheeks. His eyes are bright and boyish, a deadly compliment to his kissable lips.

Well, that technically backfired but if this were a real situation you'd make out just fine because he'd chosen to make out with you instead of curse you.

------ ----- ----- ----

Lilia wanted to focus on physical protection as much as written knowledge when it came to handling fae. You still couldn't wrap your head around the idea of him being a general but he had old photos, a weird mask, and a massive magearm to prove it. You'd picked up quite a few self-defense moves and practiced them regularly. He wanted them to be second nature to you. So here you are, in a designated training room within Diasomnia.

"You just want to cuddle me," you teased, in the familiar position of him being behind you with an arm around your neck. One elbow was planted in your shoulder, the other clasping it at the forearm to make a little prison for you. He gave a reprimanding squeeze, ever mindful of the pressure since you were fully human. Lilia gave a huffy laugh, trying to relax his smile into something more stern as he wove his fingers into your hair. You flinched at the tug and slapped his arm lightly.

"Focus," he couldn't deny himself the simple pleasure of whispering into your ear. If you asked him, it was to throw you off balance and distract you. "What could you do now?"

You thought about just leaning back into him, pressing against him, but you knew that wasn't what he meant. Capitalizing on this moment of closeness, the stillness, to huck him over your shoulder and into the floor crossed your mind but then you'd have to give him a back rub later.

Not that you minded that, either.

"We could make a deal," you leaned back to whisper in his ear even though it hurt your neck a little. You could tell by the way his bangs fluttered that he'd jerked in surprise. Was that a little pink on his cheeks? Before you could nip his pointed ear, Lilia leaned you forward and took his elbow off your shoulder, opting to hold you in a bearhug instead.

"Acceptable in this situation," he managed, clearing his throat when his voice cracked a little. "Although this exercise is supposed to be combat related."

"So make the terms. I can't negotiate a deal that doesn't exist." you try to break his hold, shimmying your shoulders and sliding your feet to see if you could slip away. He lifts you off the ground with an ease that doesn't seem possible with his short, lithe body. You hang there against him as he thinks.

"Your life for that of your firstborn."

A bit dark, wasn't it? Kind of rude, really, you thought. But, your train of thought continued to ramble, he did find Silver somewhere so it didn't seem too unusual that he'd want a kid. Either that, or he was messing with you because you told him that whisking away kids was something fae were known for in your world.

"You can't have a firstborn with your clothes on." you joke.

"That's not true because I found Silver with my--" Lilia drops you when he realizes what you've said. You weren't expecting him to drop you and didn't catch yourself, hissing as you land on your knees. Before you can start complaining or poke fun at him for being an old man he's locked the door. You're bowled over as he rushes over to you, pinning you on your back as he peppers kisses along your throat and collarbone.

He's several bites in and you’re halfway undressed when you think you hear a knock at the door. Lilia begrudgingly peels himself off of you, licking blood from the corner of his lips.

"Father? Are we not going to train today?"

"M'fraid not, my boy," Lilia turns his attention back to you, opening your legs to slip between them. "But you'll be getting a new sparring partner in about nine months."

His red eyes are glowing. They're absolutely beguiling.

"Do they come with therapy?” he hears Silver mumble as you look up at him through your lashes.

He pounces on you again. It was a brilliant, filthy tactic. He's not exactly mad about it. You've earned favor with one fae, at least, and he will protect you from the others.

----- ----- --- ---

Sebek is a hard worker. He's a product of his environment; he has Baur's straightforwardness, Lilia's dedicated regimens, and his mother's impressive teeth and jaw strength. Lilia thought the best way for you to learn some of the self-defense tactics was to fight someone your size.

Sort of. Sebek seemed to be the better choice since Silver was too sleepy to be a constant threat. And, in Lilia's mind, you should have an easier time fighting a half-fae versus a full fae.

You never noticed how muscular Sebek was until you were under him. He's got corded arms and you can see the muscles of his shoulders flexing under the Diasomnia shirt he chose for the exercise.

You've never seen him in casual clothes! He actually looks very nice. Not as buff as Jack but sturdy in his own way; his chest is broader than you imagined. A solid man.

More than capable of being Malleus' body guard.

You groan as he knocks the air out of you a little. He's on top of you, pressed into your back. He's got one foot braced against the floor, leaning his weight into you. Your arms are pinned at your side courtesy of the one he's snaked underneath you.

When did he flip you over? Asshole, you scrunch your nose in frustration as your cheeks begin to burn. He's an asshole that means well and won't go easy on you, though. He makes sure you learn. You try to inch out from beneath him but he angles his shoulder down and grabs his own wrist, dragging you back to him.

"You're supposed to do something in this situation!" he grumps, "You know how to break this hold!"

You do, but he's heavy and it probably wouldn't work. And he's had a literal lifetime of training versus your handful of months. You've tangled your legs together and used his half-lean to put him on his back. Your kicking like a tipped-over bug and almost free when you remember that his fae half is crocodilian and you might have triggered his death roll tendency.

Out of the corner of your eye you see Sebek's pupils change, the dark of his eye slitting and boring into you. His throat strains like he's growling but you don't hear anything. It trembles against the back of your neck and you're reminded in that moment of just how much bigger he is than you.

How he folds around you and encompasses you.

He opens his mouth, teeth glinting and sharp. "You've bested me," you admit, swallowing thickly as his teeth hover near your shoulder. "Make your deal."

You somehow turn yourself around in his unrelenting squeeze.

Sebek huffs as if he's insulted and you swear you see his teeth dull. His pupils begin to fill out. He's usually loathe to acknowledge his human side, as he'd much rather be full fae, but it serves him in this instance. "I'm not a true fae. Such a thing wouldn't work on me!"

"You have to pretend! Lilia's teaching me how to deal with the fae! You just won't hurt me as much. Maybe." you dare to flash that teasing grin at him and Sebek nearly tears into his own lip because he doesn't know what to do with that wiggly feeling you give him.

Him? Hurt you? Not on purpose. It would go against the core values his grandfather AND Lilia taught him! Any fae caught abusing their spouse would be drawn and quartered, made a public display of. Any human man who chose to do so was no man at all!

Sebek's face feels almost painfully warm. He can feel the heat spreading from his cheeks to his ears. "In an act of benevolence inspired by the great Prince Malleus, I shall spare your delicate human self in exchange for a child. Is that the cliche rubbish you desire?"

Some of his once slicked-back hair has fallen down on his forehead, between his eyes, as if it's disappointed in you too.

"You think our child would be cliche rubbish? Cliche Rubbish Zigvolt? That does NOT sound good! I'm naming the firstborn, you're just helping make it."

"Wha--but I--that's not!" Sebek doesn't know what to say and he hasn't been trained for this. He's careful not to shove you away but untangles himself like a thrown ragdoll. He rolls over sharply, totally fine with hiding his face in the floor. His green hair is in disarray and his arms are limp, stretched out to either side of him.

You laugh, climbing onto his back and raking your nails down it gently. He makes the noise. You're not sure what it is but you've heard it before. It's deep and somehow soothing. He relaxes underneath you as you continue to scratch his back, throwing in a squeeze to his muscles every now and then.

It's not until you're in what would be the small of his back (if he wasn't build so solid and thick) that he raises his head, folds his arms up, and rests his chin on his hands. "You're safe." he can't bear to turn his head and look at you right now. If he did, you'd see how...how...weak and mushy he looked. Sebek snorts through his nose, arching his back in surprise as your hands slide all the way up until you flop on his back and your arms hang off his shoulders.

"Thank you, o' kind Zigvolt!" you hug his neck. "This delicate human appreciates it!"

"And I...appreciate...you." he mumbled slowly, the words a little foreign to him. More scary than foreign, honestly. That heartwarming shyness evaporated in an instant when he pinned you and began a stern lecture about how you should NOT offer to conceive a child with ANY OTHER FAE and what YOU SHOULD HAVE DONE INSTEAD.

You weren't surprised by this. Sebek lectured Silver all the time and Lilia said he was a very informed pupil. You, too, would be informed as it didn't seem like he was letting you go anytime soon.

𑁍ࠬܓ how they react when they see you hurt (housewardens & jamil)

synopsis: pain is not something he ever wanted to associate with you. but seeing you injured—knowing someone dared to harm you—shatters his composure. for some, it’s rage; for others, panic. and for a few, it’s cold, terrifying control—until he knows you’re safe. but one thing is certain: someone will pay for this.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia.

content warning(s): angst, mentions of violence and implied revenge, mild injury descriptions (ex. bruises, wounds, pain etc.), spoilers for book 6 in idia’s part.

a/n: they’re just being silly, guys. <3

link(s): (masterlist)

riddle rosehearts

riddle prides himself on maintaining control.

his entire life has been shaped by discipline, by structure, by the belief that emotions must be ruled by logic. he does not allow himself to be reckless, does not allow himself to be overcome. everything he does is precise, calculated, deliberate.

but the moment he sees you hurt—

everything unravels.

his breath catches in his throat, his heart slamming against his ribs, his mind instantly abandoning all reason. his entire world sharpens to a singular point—you—and all at once, every ounce of restraint he’s spent years perfecting is hanging by a fragile, fraying thread.

“who did this?”

his voice is sharper than you’ve ever heard it, trembling with something raw, something dangerously close to rage.

he’s beside you in an instant, dropping to his knees without hesitation, his hands hovering—not touching, not yet, because what if he makes it worse? what if he hurts you somehow? his fingers tremble, itching to reach out, to make sure—

“tell me where it hurts,” he says, but his voice wavers. “tell me what happened.”

his hands are gentle but firm as he checks you over, his usually practiced movements clumsy with the weight of panic. he doesn’t even realize his breathing is uneven, doesn’t even notice the way his shoulders are shaking as he looks you over, as he takes in every bruise, every wound, every sign that something happened—

something he didn’t prevent.

“you should have been more careful,” he scolds, but the words come out thin, forced, like he’s trying to hold something else back.

you try to tell him you’re fine, try to brush it off, but he doesn’t believe you. his eyes flicker with frustration, his jaw tightening, his grip on your wrist just a fraction too tense.

“don’t be ridiculous—you’re hurt,” he snaps, and then immediately exhales, forcing himself to breathe. “just… stay still. let me handle this.”

he refuses to let you wave it away. refuses to leave it alone. you are not fine, and he will not let you convince him otherwise.

but even as he focuses on making sure you’re okay, something else burns at the edges of his mind, pressing against his temples like an unbearable weight—

who did this to you?

his hands clench into fists. his breathing evens out, but his posture remains rigid, coiled tight like a string about to snap.

because once you’re safe—once he’s certain that you’re okay, that you’ll recover, that he didn’t fail you—

then, and only then, will he deal with the one responsible.

his mother may have taught him restraint, but some things are unforgivable.

and hurting you is one of them.

leona kingscholar

danger.

his body registers it before his mind does, his instincts kicking in the moment his eyes land on you—hurt, vulnerable, not okay.

his vision tunnels, his pulse spikes, and suddenly, the world around him doesn’t matter anymore.

“what the hell happened?”

his voice is a low, guttural growl, thick with something dark, something uncontrollable. his hands clench at his sides, every muscle coiled, his body ready—ready to fight, ready to destroy, ready to eliminate whatever put you in this state.

but then he sees it—sees the way you’re holding yourself, the way your breath hitches, the way you flinch just slightly—and suddenly, the anger has to be forced down, swallowed like bile in the back of his throat.

because right now, you come first.

so he moves, closing the distance in a single step, his hands reaching for you before he can stop himself. his hands are gentle from the start, unusually so. these hands of his are capable of devastation, of turning flesh to dust, of summoning ruin with a mere touch. but against you, they are careful, restrained. the second he feels the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the tension in his hold eases, his hands softening, steadying you instead of breaking you.

“who did this?”

his voice is still dangerous, still thick with that barely restrained fury, but now there’s something else underneath it.

concern.

fear.

he hates how it makes his chest tighten. hates the way it lingers at the edges of his thoughts, nagging at him, clawing at something buried deep beneath his usual indifference.

he kneels in front of you, his sharp, emerald eyes scanning every inch of you with terrifying intensity. his fingers ghost over your injuries, his jaw clenched so tight you can hear his teeth grind together.

“tell me.” his voice is dangerous now.

and then—when you hesitate, when you try to brush it off, when you lie—

his patience snaps.

“don’t give me that.” his grip tightens just slightly, his expression darkening. “you’re hurt. don’t act like it’s nothing.”

there’s no room for argument in his tone. no patience for your stubbornness, no willingness to accept anything less than the truth.

if you try to keep it from him, if you refuse to say who’s responsible, then fine—he’ll find out himself.

because someone did this.

and once you’re safe—once he’s sure you’re okay, once he’s made damn sure you’ll recover—

then he’s hunting.

“stay here,” he mutters, standing to his full height, his tail flicking behind him in barely restrained aggression. “i’ll take care of it.”

and if you try to stop him?

his gaze flickers down to you, something sharp, something scorching, like the unrelenting heat of the desert sun at its peak—blistering, unforgiving, merciless.

“no one lays a damn hand on you and gets away with it.”

and then he’s gone, a storm of unbridled wrath, a lion on the hunt.

azul ashengrotto

azul is a man of careful calculations.

every word, every action, every decision he makes is deliberate. he has spent years crafting a persona of charm, wit, and effortless composure—one that allows him to stay in control, no matter the circumstances. he does not flinch, does not waver, does not lose to uncertainty.

but then he sees you hurt.

and suddenly, all of that control is gone.

his breath catches, his body locks up, and for one horrifying moment, his mind is utterly blank.

“you—what happened?”

his voice doesn’t sound like his own. it’s too sharp, too raw, lacking the usual smoothness he prides himself on.

he rushes to you without thinking, but the second he’s close enough to touch, he hesitates. his fingers hover inches above your skin, his knuckles white with the force of his restraint. his mind is screaming at him to act, to do something, but a terrible thought wedges itself into his panic—

what if i make it worse?

he doesn’t trust his own hands, doesn’t trust his own judgment, not when the sight of you like this is unraveling him from the inside out.

“tell me what hurts,” he demands, his words tumbling out in a way that’s almost frantic. “is it serious? how bad is it?”

his thoughts spiral immediately, jumping to the worst possible conclusions. is it critical? should he be calling for medical attention? what if you’re downplaying it? what if he’s not fast enough?

and then you try to brush it off.

“nothing?” he echoes, breath hitching. his voice almost cracks—and he hates that. “how can you say that when you’re—when you—”

his hands clench into fists, shaking slightly as he forces himself to breathe.

“just—just stay still,” he mutters, voice tight with strain. “i’ll take care of it.”

because if there is one thing he knows, one thing he can control, it’s fixing things. making deals. offering solutions.

“i’ll call a healer. i’ll get whatever you need—whatever you want.”

his words come too fast, his mind still racing, but through it all, his hands never leave yours.

his grip is too tight, fingers wrapped around yours like a lifeline, like letting go isn’t an option he’s willing to consider.

because if he lets go—if he loses you—

he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle it.

and when it’s over—when he knows you’ll be okay—he still doesn’t let you out of his sight.

“you scared me,” he murmurs, quieter than before.

his voice is steadier now, but you can still hear the remnants of his fear, lingering in the way his thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, in the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath this entire time.

and for the first time since you’ve met him—since he built the persona of azul ashengrotto, the untouchable businessman, the man always one step ahead—

he lets you see just how fragile he becomes when it comes to you.

kalim al-asim

kalim is always smiling.

he is a beacon of joy, a burst of light in every room he enters. when things go wrong, he looks for the silver lining. when people are hurting, he lifts them up with his boundless energy. sadness is something he refuses to dwell on, something he fights against with warmth and laughter.

but when he sees you hurt?

his entire world stops.

“oh no, oh no—”

the words leave him before he can think, his breath catching as his heart lurches in his chest. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause to process what he’s seeing—his body moves, fast and instinctive, rushing to your side.

his hands cradle your face, warm and steady despite the frantic tremor in his touch.

“are you okay? what happened? does it hurt? how bad is it?”

his voice is shaking. he’s shaking.

and when he finally really looks at you, when he takes in the way you wince, the way you hold yourself like you’re trying to hide the pain—his chest tightens, his stomach twisting into something awful.

“why didn’t anyone stop it? why didn’t i stop it?”

guilt. overwhelming, suffocating guilt floods him like a tidal wave.

“i should’ve been there! i should’ve protected you!”

his grip on you tightens—not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s here. he isn’t letting go. he won’t let go.

and then, before you can stop him—before you can tell him it’s not a big deal—his eyes start to glisten.

“kalim, are you—”

“i’m not crying!” he absolutely is. “i just—you scared me!”

his voice wobbles, and suddenly, he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“don’t move, okay? just stay right here! i’ll get someone to help—i’ll fix this, i promise!”

if it’s something small—just a minor scrape, a bruise—he still treats it like it’s life-threatening. he refuses to let you walk it off, refuses to let you act like it’s fine.

if it’s something worse? if you are seriously hurt?

he panics, but his movements are certain. without hesitation, he lifts you into his arms, holding you to his chest like you’re something precious, like you belong nowhere else but safe in his hands.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

and when he finally gets you to safety, when he finally knows you’re okay—

he still won’t stop fussing.

“you need to rest! do you want pillows? i’ll get you pillows! or tea! do you want tea? i’m sure jamil will—jamil! we need tea!”

“kalim, i’m fine—”

“no, you’re not fine! i was so scared!”

his fingers squeeze yours.

and later, when you’re patched up, when the worst of the moment has passed—

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes.

“don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is softer now, the usual excitement dimmed into something deeply sincere.

“i don’t ever wanna see you hurt again.”

jamil viper

jamil was raised to handle crises.

he has spent his entire life being the one who steps in when things go wrong, the one who fixes things while everyone else panics. no matter the situation, no matter the chaos, no matter the pressure—he is always in control.

so when he sees you hurt, when he registers the way you’re holding yourself, the way your face twists with pain—

his stomach drops.

but his body moves on instinct.

“where?”

his voice is steady. too steady. his mind is screaming, but his tone doesn’t waver, his movements are calculated, precise. he crouches in front of you immediately, eyes scanning you with sharp, assessing precision.

“how bad is it? let me see.”

he doesn’t waste time. doesn’t ask what happened—not yet. because right now, the only thing that matters is making sure you’re okay.

his hands are warm but firm, brushing over you carefully as he checks for injuries. his fingers ghost over your wrist, your arm, the side of your face—everywhere that might be hurt—his touch gentle but filled with purpose.

“it’s not broken,” he murmurs under his breath, half to himself, half to reassure you. “no major swelling… does this hurt?”

and then—when you flinch, when you let out the softest hiss of pain—

something inside him snaps.

his jaw clenches. his breathing slows.

“who.”

his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time, there is something dangerous in his gaze.

“who did this?”

if there is a culprit—if someone is responsible for this—then they are not leaving unscathed.

but even as fury thrums through his veins, even as his mind races with ways to handle the situation, he forces himself to prioritize you first.

“can you walk?” his voice is softer now, his tone slipping back into something controlled, something measured.

if you say yes, he doesn’t let you prove it. he supports you immediately, one arm around your waist, guiding you effortlessly as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

if you say no, he lifts you without hesitation. no warning, no asking—just picking you up, his hold secure, unshakable.

“don’t argue,” he mutters, barely sparing you a glance. “just let me take care of it.”

because he will.

and once he gets you somewhere safe, once he’s made sure you’re being treated properly, once he knows with certainty that you are okay—

then, and only then, does he allow himself to breathe.

“you’re reckless,” he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and something far too raw. “i don’t have time to deal with this every time you get yourself hurt, you know.”

but his fingers tighten just slightly where they rest against your arm, betraying the truth behind his words.

because if something had happened—if things had been worse—

he doesn’t even want to think about what he would have done.

vil schoenheit

perfection is vil’s standard.

not just in beauty, not just in his work, but in everything—his composure, his discipline, the way he carries himself. he does not allow himself to be reckless. he does not make careless mistakes. he does not let emotions rule him.

but then he sees you hurt.

and something inside him fractures.

his lips press together, his expression unreadable, his body rigid—the only betrayal of the storm brewing beneath his flawless exterior is the way his fingers tighten just slightly at his sides, the way his breath is a fraction too controlled.

“where are you hurt?”

his voice is steady. cold. clinical. but his eyes—his eyes—

they burn.

he crosses the distance between you in two strides, his gloved fingers already reaching for you. his touch is firm but delicate, brushing over your skin with the kind of precision only someone like him could possess.

“sit down.” it’s not a request. “don’t move until i’ve assessed the damage.”

you try to downplay it, try to insist that it’s nothing, but his sharp gaze cuts through you instantly.

“do not insult me by pretending this is fine,” he snaps, his voice sharp as glass. “you are hurt. i can see it. so let me handle it.”

his fingers ghost over your injuries, his touch meticulous, searching. he catalogues everything—the severity, the placement, the way you react when he presses too close.

he is silent as he works, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes.

“this never should have happened.” the words slip out low, almost a whisper, but the weight behind them is undeniable. “i should have—”

but he cuts himself off before he finishes the thought.

vil schoenheit does not dwell in should haves.

he fixes things. he prevents disasters before they happen.

but right now, all he can do is make sure you are okay.

“i’ll handle this,” he says smoothly, already preparing to tend to your wounds himself. “stay still.”

his movements are precise, every action perfectly executed—cleaning, bandaging, ensuring no imperfections remain. but his touch lingers just slightly longer than necessary, his fingers brushing over your wrist, your palm, the curve of your shoulder with a tenderness that is almost imperceptible.

and when it’s over—when you are properly cared for, when the worst of the moment has passed—he finally exhales.

“you worried me,” he murmurs, and it is softer now, less controlled, less rehearsed.

and then—just for a second—his fingers ghost against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

“i won’t let this happen again. not ever.”

his voice is gentle. his eyes are not.

because if anyone had a hand in this—if someone is responsible for this pain—

then they will regret ever daring to touch you.

idia shroud

idia doesn’t do well under pressure.

he was not built for high-stakes situations, for stress, for emotions so raw they leave no room for second chances. he hates unpredictability, hates chaos, hates not knowing what to do.

so when he sees you hurt—

his mind shuts down.

for a full second, he just stares, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers twitching but unable to move.

no, no, no, no, no—

his brain latches onto the worst possibilities immediately. how bad is it? is it fatal? what if you’re bleeding out? what if it’s internal? what if he doesn’t react fast enough?

what if he loses you?

his stomach twists violently, a familiar, awful panic rising in his throat, threatening to choke him.

because this—this exact fear—is something he’s lived through before.

he remembers the first time. the real first time.

losing ortho was something he never saw coming. something he never thought could happen. and even though he’s built him again, recreated him, brought back a version of his little brother—

he still remembers.

remembers what it felt like to be too late. to fail someone he loved. to stand there, frozen in horror, helpless to stop it.

and now—

now it’s you.

you, the only person who matters to him besides ortho. you, the person who understands him, who stays, who chooses him despite all the reasons not to. you, who has somehow become his entire world without him even realizing it.

“oh seven—okay, okay—don’t freak out—no, wait, i’m the one freaking out—”

he rushes toward you but stops short, his hands hovering inches away, shaking.

“w-wait, should i touch you? would that make it worse?? oh seven, what if i make it worse—”

his mind is short-circuiting. too many variables. too many possible failures.

“idia,” you start, but he whirls on you, wide-eyed and frantic.

“y-you have to tell me exactly how bad it is, okay? give me a numerical rating—no, no, wait, i don’t trust the pain scale, um—can you move?? do you need a doctor??”

his breathing is erratic, his fingers clutching at the edge of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

but then—just like before—you try to reassure him.

“i’m okay.”

he stops.

his whole body locks up, his mind struggling to catch up.

”…are you sure?”

his voice is so small. so uncertain.

because he’s already lost someone before.

and if he lost you too—if this was his fault, if he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough—

he doesn’t know what he would do.

even when he’s finally convinced that you’re not dying, he still refuses to leave your side. he hovers awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, clearly itching to do something to make himself useful.

so he does what he knows best—

“d-do you wanna lay down? i, uh, set up a recovery station in my room. blankets. snacks. medkits—y’know, just in case. w-we can watch something comforting, i won’t even complain about the genre. promise.”

his voice is still wobbly, still slightly frayed at the edges, but the tension in his shoulders finally eases when you nod.

and later—when you’re safe, resting, and no longer in pain—

his fingers brush against yours, hesitant, unsure, before finally intertwining them properly.

“never scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is quiet. but this time, it doesn’t shake.

because he won’t lose you too.

he can’t.

malleus draconia

malleus has lived longer than most.

a century and more has passed since his birth. he has seen generations rise and fall, watched mortals grow old in the blink of an eye. nothing unsettles him. nothing disturbs his calm.

but then he sees you hurt.

and the entire world stands still.

his breath halts, and the air around him shifts—the very atmosphere bending beneath the weight of something primordial, something as vast and unrelenting as the storm-laden skies over the land of briar.

his first instinct is not panic.

it is rage.

“who did this?”

his voice is low, steady, but beneath the surface, something dangerous lurks.

his emerald eyes gleam, faintly glowing in the dim light. the shadows stretch taller, the wind outside stills, the very earth itself seems to pause, as if the land itself knows what kind of wrath is building within him.

his hands twitch at his sides, claws curling, magic crackling faintly at his fingertips—not for you, never for you, but for whoever was foolish enough to harm you.

but he stops himself. forces himself to breathe.

because you come first.

he is in front of you in an instant, his movements as fluid as shadow, his expression unreadable. his hands—hands that could command storms, reduce castles to rubble, shatter the very sky—reach for you with an almost unnatural gentleness.

“let me see,” he murmurs, his fingers ghosting over your injury, tracing the bruises, the cuts, the places where pain lingers.

his touch is featherlight, his movements precise, but beneath it all, his body is rigid with barely restrained fury.

“who did this?” he repeats, quieter now, but infinitely more terrifying.

if you don’t answer, if you try to downplay it, if you lie—

his gaze darkens, something thunderous in his silence.

“do not shield them from me.”

he is not so easily deceived. he sees the hesitation in your eyes, the way you waver, the way you avoid his gaze. if you refuse to tell him, it does not matter—he will find out on his own.

but first—

“hold still,” he murmurs, raising his hand.

a pulse of magic hums through the air, a whisper of ancient power curling around your form like a protective shroud. the ache dulls, the wounds begin to close, the pain fades.

“better?” he asks, softer now, something tender hidden beneath the weight of his fury.

but even as he tends to you, even as he ensures you are safe—

his mind is already elsewhere.

because someone hurt you.

and for that, there will be consequences.

malleus does not act rashly. he does not lash out blindly.

but the guilty party will know fear.

“stay here,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek for just a fraction of a second, his touch lingering. “rest. recover.”

and then, as he turns, the air thickens, the weight of his presence pressing down like the hush before a storm, like the crackling stillness before lightning splits the sky.

because someone has made a grave mistake.

and if the gods are watching, they would be wise to offer their mercy—because malleus draconia will not.

congrats on making it to the end! if you enjoyed this, likes, comments, follows, and reblogs are always appreciated—they help motivate me to keep creating and sharing!

cool w you ?! - dorm leaders

in which you, the most nonchalant of all, turn out to be a big softie around them.

requested ask !

cw: established relationships

riddle rosehearts

riddle found that you were really not that expressive, quite quickly, in the first few months of knowing you. it was jarring, especially when you turned comfortable now, you were cooing and smiling. this felt like he had an alter ego for a partner, you were blushing and giggling as he enjoyed your company and affection. but, honestly, was he to complain?

the favorite moments he had with you were mixed, there were many moments he wished you showed more. riddle finds it cute whenever you "baby talk" him. showing affection as if he does deserve it amidst the horrible actions he had done and what had be done to him.

"heyyy there's my shining star. my roseeee" you drawl out your words as you laid on his bed, opening your arms for him. riddle smiled as you giggled once in a while, cooing random melodies and compliments.

leona kingscholar

leona deducted there was more to you the moment he started dating you. he wasn't quite sure what it was, but when he found out. he was proud. leona notes you're like a very untamed domestic animal, hostile or nonchalant. but throw in affection you turn to something even more adorable.

he is so smug with this discovery, leona cherishes every moment that you become so sweet and clingy. the favorite moments shared with you are when he would lay on your lap to sleep and you pamper him with kisses or head pats.

"i loveee you" you whisper as you kissed his nose then try to run your hands through his hair. leona smirks and nods in content, "say it baaack" you whine as you playfully tug his hair. leona shakes his head before rising a bit to kiss you on the lips. surely now you know?

azul ashengrotto

azul felt insecure at first, seeing as you sometimes parade no interest in him. however, the twins were very quick to note and allow him to observe the difference of your actions towards your friends then to him. later on, he'd witness a side he never knew existed.

the times you showed him your vulnerability made him feel so accomplished than any of his previous feats. after all, he was so happy that your trust in him was always present. azul's absolute favorite was when you both are vulnerable and showing off each other's flaws or imperfections.

azul sits in his pot with his tentacles overflowing. you smile and compliment him, a sparkle of vulnerability shining through as you tell him in full honesty how pretty he is to you. you reach out to him smiling softly. "my darling... you always make me feel loved, you deserve this as much as i deserve your love"

kalim al asim

kalim never understood why you were not expressive even if he was your friend, but that's fine, its nice to know that you were honest with him. however, when you were now dating, that nonchalance became endearing and even adorable for him.

it was however, his favorite thing to do to break it. especially when he first witnessed it in passing, you were out of character and he was blushing and smiling. how does anyone like you be this sweet and not show him? frankly, it was not good that you hid it because now he'll constantly try to break that layer of coolness on you.

"kalim, not here!" you yelped as you try to hide the smile creeping up on your lips. he was so happy, seeing that hint of a smile. you were in the dorm's lounge and kalim wanted to make you soft again.

"where then?!" kalim said excitedly because he'll drag you there. you giggle, and slowly ease into the persona he brought out of you. he felt his heart warm and all kalim can think is his luck really brought you to him.

vil schoenheit

vil understands that not everyone would have the same reaction and people would reciprocate emotion differently. he never saw the issue of your nonchalance, all vil can do is accept. however, when you two start dating, vil was pleasantly surprised at how affectionate you can be. he admits, he likes it, it makes all more sweeter.

there are many favorites memories. vil cannot narrow it down, however, there is one he favors the most. when you post him in a secret account and show off your collages of pictures. it was intimate and it was immortalizing, which was all he wanted.

"vil~ look, i got so many picturesss!" you say as you proudly show off the gallery that was filled to the brim of newer pictures from your date earlier. one picture caught his eye, the kiss picture.

"its my favorite! look at us!" you giggle as you try to send it to him. the small smile that vil poised turned softer and a bit wider, you keep winning him over.

idia shroud

idia thought you hated him, in all honesty, at first. sure, he wasn't the best guy or even the friendliest, but just a blank stare and no emotion whatsoever?! yeah, he may be all moody and avoidant but that doesn't mean anything! thankfully, you cleared it all up when you two started seeing each other more.

however, idia wasn't ready for when you were super super affectionate. idia thought that you were swapped or hit with a spell at first, but he got used to it. he actually liked it, it made him feel all warm and idia wasn't about to trade the sunshine you made him feel.

"hiii my number one, super awesome, super duper handsome future husband~" you coo as you enter his room. idia who just finished a fairly bad match frowned but gave a small frustrated smile at you.

"bad match? well, the game was probably rigged" you joke as you plopped on his bed. he sighed and jumped in hugging you. idia felt his heart melt when you giggle and tried to cheer him up.

malleus draconia

malleus knows that not all humans would be the same at expressing. he now knows also that nonchalance is very endearing, especially with you. he can easily tell that your nonchalance is a layer, and your friendship alongside courtship proved him right.

there is fondness that he shares for each moment you let your guard down with someone like him. it made malleus happy that you trust him this much to be this sweet. malleus' favorite time to see it is when you share these nightly walks.

"mal-mal! look a star just passed us by!" you giggle and close your eyes to make a wish, a tradition that malleus orchestrates. unknown to you, malleus makes an illusion a star passed so you can wish. as youu opened your eyes, you hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"im not gonna tell, but... hope you can guess what's my wish" malleus smiles as you insuiate he was the wish. you giggle and kissed him repeatedly as you both are under the stars

True Feelings Chocolate - OB Students

SUMMARY: It is normal on Valentine's Day for friends or schoolmates to exchange chocolates with each other. However, the quality of the chocolate reveals how the person really sees you. And homemade chocolate is the greatest message of love that someone can receive on this day.

CHARACTERS: Overblot Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia) x Yuu (Reader)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.280 words per character.

COMMENTS: The number of words varies depending on how much the character is the type to hide his true feelings.

I also would like to be able to write more eloquent lines for characters like Malleus, but as English is not my first language this becomes a bit difficult sometimes.

I hope you enjoy and Happy Valentine's Day 💝

True Feelings Chocolate - Freshmen (Ace Trappola / Deuce Spade / Jack Howl / Epel Felmier / Sebek Zigvolt) x Yuu (Reader)

REAL WORLD CONTEXT: You may already know this, but Valentine's Day in Japan is different than in Western countries. In Japan (from what I know and have researched) this day is not exclusively related to romantic love but also to friendship or simple connections between schoolmates or work colleagues.

Just like in the West, it is marked by the gifting of chocolate, but the quality of the chocolate differs: If it's a boss or colleague you're not friends with, they're usually cheaper, more common chocolates. The quality and even price of the chocolate increases according to the relationship with the person to whom it is offered. And a chocolate made by the person themselves is the most valuable of all and is usually, from what I understand, almost like a confession of love.

On Valentine's Day, it is women who offer chocolates to men, but in this case I just kept the logic of chocolates and excluded the gender thing.

Another thing is that since it is normal to give chocolates to friends as well, it becomes more discreet to give more special chocolates to a certain person and it doesn't draw attention to simply give chocolate to someone.

NOTE: Thaumarks would be the equivalent of US dollars.

The rules are clear: the quality of the chocolate represents the quality and importance of the relationship between the giver and the person to whom it is given. And a chocolate made by the giver is the most valuable of all. Which meant he could buy chocolates for his schoolmates, but not for you!

According to the rules and analyzing what he felt for you, your chocolate MUST be made by him and it had to be perfect! Or as close to perfection as he could get.

He has no shame, nor does he think twice before asking Trey for help. He had that smile of someone who wants to mess with him a little the entire time, but knows that wouldn't be a good idea... Okay, maybe just a little comment to see how he would react.

“So... homemade chocolate for (Y/N).” He said as they waited for the chocolate to melt and Riddle prepared the molds.

Riddle continued with what he was doing, but he had blushed a little.

“Those are the rules.” he replies. "The quality of the chocolate should represent how the giver sees the person to whom it is given.”

“I know. I just never thought I'd see you making this kind of chocolate so soon.”

Riddle did not respond, probably because he thought the same thing.

What Riddle didn't know, because it was supposed to be a surprise too, was that you were also making chocolates for him. You made chocolate dipped strawberries. Knowing that Strawberry Tarts are his favorite food, this seemed like the best choice for Valentine's Day chocolates. Once they were ready, you placed them in a red box that you had bought at Sam's Mystery Shop and finished by tying the box with a bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you are preparing the boxes of chocolates to give to the Heartslabyul boys when there is a knock on your door. You open it and find Riddle with his hands behind his back.

“Good morning, (Y/N). I believe you know what day it is today.”

You confirm and say that you were just preparing the chocolates to take to his dorm.

“Oh, that's a coincidence. Because I came here to offer you mine too.” He takes his hand from behind his back revealing a beautiful heart-shaped box with golden designs. “And...” in the other, a small bouquet of roses. He's blushing just a little bit

You take the box and the bouquet, and Riddle smiles when he sees your reaction. But before you open it, you remember and go to the bag where your chocolates were and take out his box and offer it to him. He wasn't surprised that you gave him chocolates, but he was a little when he saw that the box wasn't from any brand. You also take the opportunity to place the roses on the entrance table so you can open the box.

When you take the lid off you see several heart shaped chocolates with your favorite toppings, however, some of the hearts were a little bit crooked and some of the designs on the hearts seemed to have gone slightly wrong. You ask if he made them, unable to contain a small chuckle.

“Y-yes.” he sulks a little seeing you laugh. “I picked the ones that looked best... the first ones burned.”

You taste one of them and feel your favorite filling on your tongue. You say it's very good and Riddle can't contain that sweet smile of his.

“Truly? I... I am so glad!”

And then he remembers the box you gave him. He opens it and sees the chocolate covered strawberries. You say that since he liked strawberry tart so much you thought he would like them. He looks at the strawberries with a sparkle in his eyes, picks one up and tastes it before giving you a cute smile again.

“It's incredible how something so simple can taste so good.” he tells you “So... were they made by you too?” You confirm, but then he asks: “You... did you also make chocolates for the others?” he seemed ashamed to ask that.

You say no, that those were the only ones you made, all the others were bought.

“Really?!” he says smiling, but then immediately clears his throat to assume his usual posture again.

However, he realized what it means, that you felt the same way about him as he felt about you, and it made him chuckle. He holds your free hand, while the other still holds the box of chocolates, gets closer to you and kisses your cheek gently.

“You said you were preparing to go to Heartslabyul.” He tells you with a tender look, as if he can finally look at you the way he wants and you deserve. “Allow me to escort you there then. And I insist on helping you carry the boxes.”

He will take you to Heartslabyul with your arm intertwined with his like a gentleman, while his other arm carries the bag with the chocolates that you will offer to your friends.

Ace and Deuce will argue and compete because they both bought you the exact same box of chocolates that were your favorite. Cater bought you the cutest chocolates he could find and wanted to take a picture of the two boxes together, the one you gave him and the one he gave you. Trey says he wished he had made the chocolates himself but, you know, rules and possible misunderstandings to be avoided, so he ended up buying some chocolates that he also liked as a sort of sharing of favorites.

Regardless of whether you would get chocolates back or not, you bought chocolates for Jack and Ruggie, and you wanted to follow the "rules" and make the chocolates for Leona yourself. But what chocolate would he like? He loves meat, but this doesn't help much. Or maybe it does... you search on the internet for chocolates for meat lovers and see what you can find.

But you didn't find anything, or at least nothing that didn't also involve wine. However, you noticed that dark chocolate was the most used, if not the only one, so you decided to use it and make the famous, perhaps even cliché, heart-shaped chocolates. Once they're done, you put them in the yellow box you bought at the Mystery Shop.

On Valentine's Day, you prepare everything to go deliver the chocolates to Savanaclaw.

Of course Jack also bought you chocolates, your favorite ones by the way. He struggled to keep his tail still when he saw how happy you were and the chocolates you gave him.

Ruggie seemed... struggling to give you the chocolates he had bought for you. He would have liked to have bought the cheaper chocolate, but he didn't want to give you a chocolate that meant you were nothing to him. So he had to spend a little more money and that was what was hurting him. However, his pain was eased by your chocolates.

Leona wasn't with them, so he could only be in his room. You go there and knock on the door.

“What?” You hear Leona's voice on the other side.

You open the door and enter his room. It's no surprise to see him lying in bed as if he had just woken up from a nap. He looks at you with his hands behind his head and smirks.

“Oh, yeah, did you come here to deliver your friendship sweets?” he says mockingly.

“Actually, yes.” you answer, walk towards him and stretch out your arm, handing him the yellow box. “This one is for you.”

He glances sideways at the box for a second, but then lifts his torso and sits up on the bed. He picks up the box and opens it to find dark chocolate hearts. You tell him that you tried to find some kind of recipe with meat but didn't find much. However it seemed like dark chocolate was the best one to pair with meat so that's why you chose it.

“So, you're saying that you did these little things?” Leona picks up one of the chocolates with a smug grin on his face. “Let's see how you did then. I must remind you that my palate is quite delicate.” He takes a bite and seems to enjoy the chocolate, but doesn't say anything.

Instead, he puts the box on the bed, gets up and seems to walk away from you. But then you notice that he's walking over to a chair in the corner of the room covered in clothes. He lazily removes one of the pieces of clothing from the seat and reaches for the white box that was hidden underneath. He comes back and hands you the box.

“Good enough. Here's your prize.”

You take the box and look at it. It’s white with gold details, texture and embossing. It's also relatively heavy for a box of chocolate, and thick. You don't even recognize that brand. Leona laugh at your reaction.

“You've definitely never seen one of these.”

You can't open the box with only one hand, you had to put it on Leona's bed to be able to open it with both hands. He complained like you expected him to, but then he just sat there watching you open the box and see what was inside, while eating more of your chocolates like they were snacks.

You open it, and inside the white box there is a wooden box. You remove the wooden box and see another wooden thing, like a square plate, with a kind of small wooden tongs. Leona is amused by your reaction. You took this out of the white box too, underneath is a booklet, and underneath that, there's a brochure. And after that there finally seems to be nothing left to take out.

“If you're wondering which one is the chocolate, it's the wooden box.” He points to the first thing you took out of the box and take another chocolate of yours to eat.

You pick up the wooden box with a little golden square on the lid and opens it. You pick up a large square wrapped in gold paper. At the bottom of the box, in a smaller diamond-shaped hole with a single cocoa bean.

“That is chocolate.” Leona casually pointed to the large square wrapped in gold paper.

You decide to see what that wooden thing with the tongs was before that. You pick it up, take the tongs off the top and remove the paper it was holding, revealing a gold square with engravings and what looks like a wooden frame around it. You read the title on the sheet of paper: “Testing utensil and plate.” And realizes that these are basically instructions on how to taste the chocolate using tongs and putting it on the golden plate.

You finally decide to search for those chocolates on the internet and you only had to type the name of the brand to see that the first result was: ‘The most expensive chocolate in Twisted Wonderland’. You found that same box and discovered that it cost almost 500 thaumarks. Leona just laughs at your shocked face.

Before you could say anything, maybe even say that you couldn't accept a chocolate like that, Leona takes the golden square and unwraps it, revealing the chocolate, which by the color seems to be your favorite. He breaks one of the triangles that formed the square and places it in front of your lips.

“Go on.” He smirks. “Open your mouth and say what you wanted to say.”

You open your mouth, but instead of talking you take a bite of the chocolate, as he wanted you to do. And it's incredible! He puts the rest of that piece of chocolate on top of the golden plate.

Knowing that the handmade chocolates were an “I love you” message, Leona felt completely confident in doing what he did next. As you were standing, he also stood up, put one of his hands on your waist and pulled you against him to kiss you.

You already kind of knew that it was possible to receive some kind of chocolate from Azul. This tradition can also be seen as a way of strengthening ties or showing respect for colleagues. He would not miss the opportunity to be “generous” to certain people whom he may or may not have selected as people of interest.

But no matter what kind of chocolate he would give you, you wanted to follow the rules and make yourself his chocolate.

You weren't sure which type of chocolate he would like best, so you decided to make a few of each, some dark chocolate, some milk chocolate, and some white chocolate. ‘By chance’, Sam had some molds for sale that you could use to make chocolates in sea-themed shapes like shells, seahorses, starfish, crabs, etc. One of the molds was even of a cute little octopus. You also bought a beautiful lavender box to put the chocolates in.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you were preparing the chocolates to give to the Octavinelle boys when someone knocked on your door.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Azul greets you with his charming smile and his hands behind his back. “Were you getting ready to go out? I hope I'm not taking up too much of your time. I'm sure you have a lot of chocolates to deliver today, knowing how many acquaintances you've made at this school. But let me be the first to present you.” He takes his hands from behind his back revealing a beautiful lavender box with the Mostro Lounge logo in silver.

He must have prepared several boxes of that for his... acquaintances (clients) as well. But you accept the box anyway and take the opportunity to give him yours. Azul doesn't seem too surprised that you give him chocolates too, but he is when he sees that there is no brand on the box. You open your boxes at the same time to see... the same chocolates, the exact same shapes.

“Have you also-” You two start saying at the same time and then stop when you realize you're talking over each other.

“The molds in Sam's mystery shop.” Azul continued with a sweet tone. “You bought them too. So... that means...”

“These chocolates.” You say. “Were they made by you?”

“Yes, they were!” He smiles proudly. “Please, go ahead to taste them. Tell me what you think.”

You can see he used your favorite type of chocolate. You pick up one of the chocolates, take a bite and discover that it has your favorite filling. He can see that you loved it by your face, but he wants to hear your words and you only increase his pride with them.

You then ask him to try your chocolates. You confess that you didn't really know which one would be his favorite so you made some of each type. This makes him chuckle.

“Don't worry, they all look delicious. Let's see if the same applies to the taste, shall we?” He smirks before taking one of the chocolates to his mouth and biting into it.

He looked surprisingly intrigued and you didn't know what that meant. So you ask him if there's something wrong with the chocolates.

“No, that's not it. Your chocolates are very simple, without any special filling or anything that improves the original flavor of the ready-made chocolate. So why...? Why does it taste so good if it's nothing special? Did you use something that my taste buds aren't detecting?”

It was wierd, Azul almost seemed insulted, like you were tricking him somehow. Or like he wanted to figure out the logical explanation for that flavor. You say you only followed a recipe and seeing that he seemed dissatisfied with this explanation you say that people say that something made with love tastes better.

“Don't be ridiculous." He says despite starting to blush a little. “Feelings do not change a well-made recipe or a cook's skills. It might make them lazier and less willing to do things properly." he says, clearly thinking of a certain someone. "But it doesn't suddenly make someone an extraordinary cook. That's not how it works. It doesn't make sense."

And then his subtle indignation gives way to a quite seductive smile.

“Maybe I should see how you do them to find out your secret. And in return, I can teach you how to make the fillings and stuff them. What do you think? Cooking together and teaching each other.” He gets closer to you and tilts your head with a gentle finger on your chin. “Doesn't that sound like a good deal, my dear?”

After this you tell him that you were preparing to go to Octavinelle to offer him, Jade and Floyd the chocolates. There was still the boxes to be delivered to the twins.

“Oh, I wonder what you got for them.”

You say that for Jade you found some mushroom-shaped chocolates and for Floyd you bought some that said they all had different flavors but didn't say which ones, you realized that it was one of those sweets that you only find out if you were lucky or not with the flavor after tasting it.

Azul's mood seemed to improve when you said you had bought the chocolates and not made them. He also highlighted your excellent ability to choose gifts and added that you could be an excellent... business colleague. He liked the idea of a special personal assistant. He will accompany you to Octavinelle and insist on carrying him your gifts.

Jade loved the chocolates you chose for him, although it's hard to be sure even with all those smooth talking praises. For you, he asked his parents to send him some special Coral Sea chocolates. Azul asks you to examine that box and doesn't even hide his distrust towards Jade, who appears theatrically sad. He recognizes those chocolates with the box still sealed and knows that there is nothing wrong with those, so he returns them to you with more peace of mind.

Floyd was a little put off at first because the chocolates looked boring, but he soon became interested when you told him about the surprise flavors. He tried one that he said tasted like octopus and started laughing with great amusement. For you he bought shrimp-shaped chocolates and commented something about finding it funny to see it as a kind of cannibalism.

Kalim would definitely give you chocolates, but you had no way of knowing if Jamil would do the same. You already know how reluctant he is to call someone a friend, let alone give someone chocolates, that is not out of pure politeness, on a day like Valentine's. But either way you wanted to follow the rules and offer him chocolates made by you.

You weren't sure which type of chocolate he would like best, so you decided to make a few of each, some dark chocolate, some milk chocolate, and some white chocolate. But you didn't want to make just boring chocolate hearts. However, you didn't know if there was any filling he liked with the chocolates, so at Sam's Mystery Shop you try to find at least pretty molds. And you found heart molds with beautiful line art. That, and a pretty dark red box with a golden bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you were preparing the boxes of chocolates to take to the Scarabia boys, but they were faster than you.

“GOOD MORNING (Y/N)!” Kalim greets you enthusiastically when you open the door after hearing the knock on it. “Happy Valentine's Day!” He stretches out his arms with a huge smile and a huge basket of chocolates. It even had a heart-shaped balloon tied to it.

You need both hands to pick up the basket. You try to tell him that he didn't need to offer you so much, in fact he didn't need to offer you anything, but all that...

“Don't worry. I love giving gifts to my friends! And it's okay if you can't eat them all before the expiration date, I'm sure Grim can help you with that. There's enough for both of you in there. Hahaha.”

“Or at least we hope it's enough for both of you.” Jamil comments behind him. “Be careful Grim doesn't steal them all from you. And I'm sure Kalim would love to spend a little more time with you, but he has to go deliver the rest chocolates.” He frowns wearily and helplessly.

You can only imagine how many chocolates someone who treats practically everyone as a friend has to give away. But you ask them to wait just one more minute. You put the basket on the table in the hallway, take the one of the chocolate boxes you were preparing to take with you and hand it to Kalim.

Just like the chocolates he gave you, yours were also bought, except the brand you bought was much cheaper. But none of that mattered to Kalim, he was thrilled just because you gave him chocolate at all. But then he remembers and looks back at Jamil.

“We’ll open them in the dorm.” Jamil says. “I'll just try one and you can eat the rest. I know (Y/N) is trustworthy.”

Kalim celebrates and thanks him for allowing him to eat the chocolates. You wait for them to turn their backs to call Jamil in a whisper that you knew he would hear and Kalim wouldn't. He turns as Kalim walks to the gate and you hand him the dark red box with the golden bow. He looks at the box in surprise, glances at Kalim and thought quickly. He takes the box and says: “I'll text you.” before he turns and walks towards Kalim with your box in his hands.

If you had given him that box while Kalim was looking, he would have been super curious and happy for Jamil, maybe even started saying that he should offer you a box too and ask about it. And you knew how much Jamil liked to be discreet and not draw Kalim's attention to his affairs.

You had time to go to all the other dorms and deliver your friendship chocolates before he sent you the messages:

“I'm sorry I didn't thank you for the chocolates when you gave them to me. We only just finished delivering Kalim's chocolates, and he went to the Pop Music Club. I wanted to ask you if there would be a possibility of you passing through Scarabia today? I would like to thank you properly.”

You say you can and he asks if it can be in an hour. You don't ask him why, even though you're asking that to yourself, but you say yes and the meeting is set.

At the agreed time you go to Scarabia and you don't even need to tell Jamil that you have arrived, he is already at the doors of the main building waiting for you. And as if that wasn't enough of a surprise, when you approach him he holds out his hand for you to place yours on top and he kisses the back of your hand. He has a charmingly confident smile on his face. He leads you like a gentleman through the dorm hallways.

“I apologize again for being so curt with you when you gave me the box.” He says as you walk with one of your arms intertwined with his. “You truly caught me off guard. I wanted to thank you at that moment, but I was so much more focused on being quick so that Kalim wouldn't... you know... intrude.” That was the least rude way of saying what he really wanted to say.

You ask him what happened after you gave him the chocolates. The box wasn't small, he wouldn't have been able to hide it from Kalim.

“What I expected.” he sighed. “Kalim started making questions right away. But don't worry, you made the right decision by handing me the box when he wasn't looking. I hope he didn't bother you about it though.”

No, Kalim didn't text or call you after that. Jamil discreetly whispered a "excellent" with a somewhat sinister smile. You ask him if he liked the chocolates and tell him that, since you didn't know which was his favorite chocolate, you decided to use them all. He gives you a slight smile.

“I can appreciate them all. When they're done well.” he smirked. “The shape was nice, probably because of the molds you used. The taste... was good enough.”

You look at him a little sadly, or maybe a little sullenly. He laughs.

“They were good.” he says more gently. “But I think you can do better.” The smug smile returns. “Maybe if I teach you a few things? Or if we cook together? I wouldn't mind that. I bet it would be... interesting to be your tutor.” He seems to like the idea, probably because of the hierarchy you would have (in addition to the one you already have).

You arrive at his room and he invites you to come in and sit on his bed.

“My roommate is also at a club meeting.” He explains, as he picks up a box, that didn't look like anything special, from his desk. “Here.” he gives you the box and sits next to you. “I thought about making you chocolates too.” He can't look you in the eyes and tries to hide the blush that was starting to appear on his cheeks. “But... I didn't want to give them to you without knowing... I made these when I got back to Scarabia, after Kalim had gone to the club meeting.” he points to the box on your lap. “I didn't have much time to get a nicer box, sorry.”

You open the box to find several heart-shaped chocolates made with your favorite type of chocolate. But the ones in the middle had letters that, the way they were arranged, formed the phrase “I love you too”.

“You bought the ones you gave to Kalim.” Jamil says, still reluctant to look you in the eyes. “And made the ones you gave me. That's what it means, isn't it? ...Try it.”

You do so and take one of the chocolate hearts, bite into it and discover that it has your favorite filling. As you expected, the flavor is divine and you say this to Jamil when he asks you what you thought of them.

“I haven't tried them yet after they're done. Can I steal one from you?”

You say yes, but instead of his hand going towards the box, it goes towards your face, holds your chin to turn your head towards him and he kisses you.

You knew you were screwed. Vil is demanding about everything and anything. But you also know he can still appreciate someone’s effort and dedication. Even if your chocolates don’t turn out perfectly, which is most likely the case, you know he’ll still be happy with your hard work and thoughtfulness.

Your real problems lie elsewhere: nutrition and healthy ingredients. Your best bet was dark chocolate, it’s the healthiest of all. But you couldn't just make boring plain chocolates, and making them in the shape of a heart wasn't enough. You search for healthy chocolate recipes for Valentine's Day and you find a recipe for dark chocolate with fruits and nuts.

It was a lot of work to remove the seeds from the kumquats, chop the almonds, dry the cherries and do everything as the recipe said, but eventually your heart-shaped chocolates with fruits and nuts were ready on time. You just had to buy the prettiest purple box you could find at Sam's Mystery Shop and a good red bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you took your chocolates to Pomefiore to deliver them.

Rook would be happy with any type of chocolate you give him. The simple fact that you give him a box or even just a bag on such a special day makes him beam with joy. And of course he also bought you a box of chocolates, your favorites, by the way. (Regardless of whether you told him which ones they were or not)

The best chocolates you can give Epel are the ones you know he likes but that Vil wouldn't let him eat. Even if Vil found out, it would be rude not to accept such a kind gift, so according to etiquette he would have to accept your gift. The two of you smile mischievously at each other. And yes, of course he also bought you chocolates. He asked his family to send special chocolates typical of Harveston just for you.

All that was left was to deliver the last box to Vil, but before you turned around to go to his room to see if he was there, he was kind enough to appear in the lounge at that moment. The way he walked towards you with his eyes fixed on you and that beautiful discreet smile made you feel like the most special person in the room.

You say he arrived just in time because you were about to go look for him, and you give him the pretty purple box with a red bow. He smiles in satisfaction and pick up the box.

“Well, I can't say I'm surprised to receive another box of chocolates today. And I see that this box is not of any brand. May I then assume that they were made by you?” His smile softens even more when you confirm, but even so he doesn't miss the opportunity to add a little smugness to it. “Well, let's see how you did then?”

Vil opens the box and is actually surprised by what he sees inside. He picks up one of the chocolate hearts and examines it.

“Dark chocolate.” He says in an approving tone. “I see almonds, dried cherries and... are those candied kumquats?” The fruits were what surprised him the most and he looks at you in such a neutrally curious way that you don't know whether he approved of those chocolates or not.

You tell him that you know how much he values his good nutrition, so you tried to find the healthiest Valentine's chocolate recipe, and that was the recipe you chose. You add that you followed the recipe to the letter as if defending yourself in case he doesn't like it, but at that moment you see his shoulders relax, the smile return and his eyes look at you with affection.

“You aren’t the first one to give me handmade chocolates.” he starts saying and looks at your chocolates in his hands. “But you are the first one who knows me well enough to know what I would actually like to receive. Except for Rook, but he's a strange exception. All the other boxes that arrived were of the sweetest and most caloric chocolates imaginable. I understand and appreciate the gesture but...” He looks back at you and gives you a small smile. “They don't really know me, do they?”

He takes a bite of your chocolate and looks serious about tasting it for seconds that feel like minutes to you. You ask how they are and if they taste good, he looks at you seriously and then starts laughing when he sees your worried face.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to mess with you a little. I would like to say that these chocolates are quite good, but to do so I have to add that they are, for the skills of someone who is not a professional cook. I don't think I've ever tried this kind of sweets before. Could you give me the recipe?” and even eats the rest of the chocolate he has in his hand, with an expression of clear delight.

Your instinct tells you that something is going on behind you. You look over and see Epel slightly uncomfortable with the way Rook is looking at you and Vil as if he was watching the most wonderful and touching romantic play in the history of theater. He doesn't say a word as if a single syllable could ruin the moment, and he looks like he wants to burst into tears with emotion.

You feel a gentle hand on the small of your back, you turn your head again and see that it is Vil pulling you slightly to invite you to go with him.

“I can imagine the work it took you to remove the seeds from these kumquats and candied them. Such thoughtfulness and well done hard work deserves a proper reward. Don't you think?”

His gaze alternates between looking at you sweetly and looking at Rook in a subtly threatening way, as if warning him not to snoop around. The same look could be given to any other student who looked at you with the same nosy curiosity.

Vil invites you to go with him to a place, you follow him and you arrive at the door of his room. He looks haughtily at the corridor and sees that no one followed you, or if they did they would be left behind in that same corridor. He invites you in, saying that he also has something for you. After he closes the door behind him, he goes to his desk and picks up a small, beautiful, heart-shaped golden box to give you.

“Seeing me enjoying your chocolates was a spectacle and proof enough of your value to the public.” he says referring to the other Pomefiore students who were in the lounge. “They don't deserve to witness more.”

He makes a gesture encouraging you to open the box and you do so. There were few chocolates, at least compared to the ones you gave him, but not only were they beautifully decorated, they were also made from your favorite type of chocolate. Even if your favorite is the least healthy of all. You look at him in surprise.

“Don't get used to it.” he warns you, raising a finger. “I did less on purpose so as not to be so detrimental to your nutrition.” he pokes your nose gently “This is a rare exception, you hear?”

Even though you know what his answer would be, you ask if he was the one who made them.

“Yes, they look astonishing professional, don't they?” He smiled with the greatest pride, before returning to his regular speech. “I also thought about preparing something nutritious, until I thought about what you would like to receive and not what I would like to give. If I did what I thought was best for you while neglecting your own tastes, it would not only be wrong but an insult. It would be the same as all those fans who offered me chocolates without knowing what I would like or even wanting to try. Those chocolates would convey the message that I like you but I want to mold you into the person I want you to be and that is both a lie and a blasphemy. I want to help you improve of course, but that doesn't mean I don't like who you are now. So I used your favorite chocolates and fillings regardless, but did it in small quantities. However, if you wake up tomorrow with a stomach ache because you ate them all, don't blame me, understood?”

If you hug him he will tell you to be careful so the chocolates don't fall out of the box, but he will hug you back, maybe just more delicately.

You taste one of the beautiful chocolates and they are delicious. The pride on Vil's face only increases when you tell him this. Catching you off guard, he gently holds your chin with his index finger and thumb and gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“This is my thank you for your gift.” he then puts his face right in front of yours, your noses almost touching “And this is my thank you for you.” and he kisses your lips.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Idia tells Ortho. “Me? Cook? For THEM? Do you want them to hate me for giving them food so poorly prepared that it could poison them? Should I check-up you? Your cause-and-effect conclusions seems to be miscalculating things.”

“I don’t detect any abnormality in my data processing.” Ortho guarantees him. “But that's what the rules of Valentine's Day tradition say. And I can even use quotes from your games and mangas to support my argument.”

“OI! Don't use those things against me, it's a low blow! Besides, like you said, those are games and mangas, or even movies, they're not real. Real life is not a fairy tale where you always conveniently fall in love with the right person who feels the same way about you. There is a much greater chance that you will fall in love with someone you don't deserve and end up preferring Prince Charming.”

“So what?”

“W-WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'SO WHAT'?”

“You don't need to declare yourself to them. You just have to offer them chocolates. If the feeling is not mutual, just leave it at that. But I'm sure that (Y/N) will offer you something. Especially knowing how much you like sweets.”

“Oh yeah, sure, it's so much better to receive a friendzone chocolate than nothing at all. It must be the new trend to replace the bucket of ice cream to eat by the spoonful while crying watching a romcom wrapped in a blanket in the middle of the dark.”

“Come on. You know (Y/N), they would appreciate anything you did simply because you tried. They are the type to appreciate the effort and intention more than the end result. I've heard them tell how happy they were with a mere postcard from Malleus Draconia during the winter break.”

“That’s because he's The Malleus Draconia. Anything coming from someone like him is spectacular. Even a curse would be a source of pride for someone to receive simply because he acknowledged their existence.”

While Ortho was trying to convince Idia to At Least Try to make some kind of chocolate for you, you were looking for molds for your chocolates at Sam's Mystery Shop.

And ‘coincidence of coincidences’ Sam had in stock molds in the shape of items from a mobile game that Idea loves. Funny enough, they were also sweets, items for the cards if you're not mistaken. But the problem arose when you saw the price: 130 thaumarks. Sam approached you when he saw your certainty in wanting to buy that item turn into doubt and consideration.

You told him you wanted to buy that, but it was too expensive for your tight budget. So, knowing that you're a trustworthy little imp, he lets you pay what you can for it and work a day or two at the store until you can pay the rest. But he wouldn't need you anytime soon, he'll tell you when he does. You accept the deal and get the molds in addition to the ingredients and the bright blue box with a black bow.

Knowing that he loves sweets, you decide to use white chocolate and milk chocolate. And you made a lot of them, enough to fill the box almost to its limit.

Meanwhile, the only way Ortho found to convince Idia to get you chocolates was by suggesting that he make some and buy others and wait to see if you would give him chocolates and what kind. If you gave him friendship chocolates, he would give you the box he bought; if you gave him chocolates you made yourself (as if), he would give you the ones he made... and the ones he bought too. “I'm terrible at cooking. It's better to play it safe if they come out inedible.”

The next day, Valentine's Day, you take your gifts to go to Ignihyde to deliver them to the Shroud brothers.

You give Ortho a cute heart-shaped power back. You tell him that you would like to give him chocolates too, but since he doesn't eat you try to find something equivalent. And even if it's not a very good charger, it's still a cute decoration. Ortho completely agrees with you and is very happy that you put so much thought into his gift. He gives you chocolate in return, a box of your favorites.

Idia is nowhere to be seen, but Ortho knows you know where to find him. You go to his bedroom door and knock on it. The door opens for you. As you might expect, he is sitting in front of his computer. He pauses the game he was playing, takes off his headphones and turns his chair to look at you.

“Hey, um, you don't need to give me chocolates out of pity if that's the case. I don't need to get something just because my brother received a gift.”

You assure him that it's not out of pity, it's because you really wanted to give him those chocolates.

“I hope you didn't spend too much. I don't want you to regret it to much.”

"I may have spent a little more than I expected," you admit, handing him the box and placing it on his lap. "But I'll be keeping the molds.”

“Molds?! You didn't actually...” He stops to first check if what he thought you had done was true.

He opens the box and it takes him a few seconds to analyze those shapes well. You are startled to see him jump out of his chair.

“THESE ARE GROOVY SWEETS! Where did you found them? Wait! You said you found molds? I didn't even know there were molds to make them! How much did it cost? This game is quite niche, it must not have been easy to find. Or cheap.”

You say finding them was easy because you simply saw them in Sam's Mystery Shop and recognized the shapes and the game logo. Idia asks you about the price again and you try to change the subject until he says that if you don't tell him he'll look it up online. And you finally tell him the price.

“And isn't that a little tight for you?” He doesn't seem the least bit surprised by the price. “I mean, the money you have comes from the headmage as far as I know, right? And I don't think he gives you much more than the bare minimum.”

You tell him about the deal with Sam.

“WHAT?! Oh, No! You won't get into debt because of me!” He says determined “I'll send Sam all the money you spent and what's left to pay for the molds. And if you don't tell me how much it was, I'll just send him, like, I don't know, a 500 thaumarks or something and you can buy whatever you want with what's left.”

You say he doesn't need to exaggerate so much, you could even accept him paying for the molds for you, but the rest was ridiculous.

“Hey, I may not be a prince but my family is still quite wealthy, you know.” he says with a smug, which then turns into his cute smile. “You must have had so much work making them, let me at least help with the expenses.” the smug returns “You know I'm going to send him the money no matter what you say right?”

You sigh a ‘Fine’ and ask if he could finally taste the chocolates. He takes one of the white chocolates and bites it. You even say that you thought about putting something else in them, but you didn't know what, however it seems that this wasn’t necessary. He was eating the chocolate with such a cute smile, and the ends of his hair started to turn a slightly pink.

“Did you try them after they were done?” he asks.

You say you ate the first one you made to taste test it, but not the ones you gave him. He takes another one and brings it to your lips for you to eat. You open your mouth and grab the chocolate, it was good, but what you liked most was the fact that he fed it to you. After this episode of confidence, he becomes embarrassed again.

“I... um...” he then proceeds to speak in the speed of light. “Ortho made me make chocolates for you because it was like the rules of tradition or whatever but you don't need to eat them they definitely suck. B-b-but I bought better ones for you.” he picks up a relatively large box and returns to speaking at a more intelligible speed. “I bought the biggest box of your favorite chocolates they've ever sold.”

You accept the box, but still ask what he said about making chocolates for you.

“What? How can you still understand what I say at that speed? Don't tell me you're one of those people who puts a video on x2 speed or something.” You look at him disapprovingly, showing that you know he's trying to change the subject again. He sighs. “Listen, I know the rules are that when you... really... like... someone you should make the chocolates yourself, just like... you... did. But what does it matter how or who does them, what matters is whether they taste good or not, right? It all ends in the same place anyway.”

“So... these chocolates,” you point to the box you gave him “or any others would be the same to you?”

“Wait! No! That's not what I meant! T-t-the ones you made n-needed to be made, t-they can't be bought.”

“So, would you prefer if I had bought them? Surely they would be better made by a professional, right?”

“N-n-no! You are distorting what I... No, actually, that's exactly what I said... B-b-but that does NOT apply here, not to you, I just... I SUCK AT COOKING, OKAY!? I didn't want to give you something ugly, poorly made and with horrible taste. But fine! If that's what you want!” He goes to the closet and takes out a pink heart-shaped box to give it to you. “You can have it. Don't say I didn't try to warn you.”

You pick up the box and open it to find cute hearts made with your favorite type of chocolate with sprinkles on top. They didn't look bad, they even looked well made. You pick one up and taste it, and it tastes good to you. You actually liked it and tell him that.

“Y-you actually enjoyed that amateurish attempt at cooking? You feeling okay? Are your taste buds buggy? You don't need to say that just to be nice, you know?”

You assure him that you're not just being nice, that you really liked it. Of course they could be better, just like yours could be too. Maybe you should try doing them together sometime?

“First Ortho makes me cook and now you? Do you really like me or just like to see me suffer?”

He insists that you keep the ones he bought too because they were for you anyway. If you give him a kiss on the cheek to thank him he will get all flustered and the ends of his hair will turn bright pink.

You knew very well what kind of chocolates you wanted to make for Malleus: ice cream! But you didn't want to offer him a bowl of ice cream, so you search the internet to see if there was any type of Valentine's Day chocolate that involves ice cream and you find the ice cream bonbons, which are basically balls of ice cream, covered in chocolate.

The recipe you found was for vanilla and chocolate ice creams, which also seemed like the safest choices. You don't make a lot, but you can still make several of each type of chocolate and decorate them with white sprinkles on the dark and milk chocolate ones and rainbow sprinkles on the white chocolate ones.

Unfortunately, since they are cold sweets, you can't put them in a normal box, so you put them in a container and store them in the fridge.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you wonder how you're going to get those chocolates to Malleus. You don't want to ruin them and you're afraid it could take so long to find him that the chocolates will start to melt even if you use a container designed for cold food. At that moment, someone knocks on your door.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Malleus greets you when you open the door. “Happy Valentine's Day. I hope you had a good night's sleep. I'm here to fulfill the tradition of offering chocolates to my loved ones.” He snaps his fingers and a beautiful black heart-shaped box with a translucent green bow appears floating.

Malleus takes the box and hands it to you with a slight but sincere smile. As you pick up the box and thank him, you remember that ever since you woke up you were almost certain to hear movement outside Ramshackle Dorm. And that's why you ask Malleus if he was there for a long time.

“I will not hide the fact that I arrived before you woke up, but it has not been that long. Only two or three hours perhaps?”

He tells you it's no problem, for him it's not that long, but you still invite him in since he's been out there for so long to you. The two of you sit on the lounge sofa and Malleus can't take his eyes off you, he's so eager for you to open the box. When you finally do, you find beautiful hearts of your favorite chocolate with detailed and delicate line art. Malleus was so happy with your reaction, especially if you say you feel sorry for eating them because they are so beautiful.

“Im glad you enjoyed the presentation so much.” he says with an amused smile. “But please do not let that stop you from consuming them. Unfortunately, their edibility is ephemeral, so don’t let your desire to appreciate its exterior prevent you from savoring its interior and appreciating it in its entirety. Furthermore, I truly wish to know your opinion about my cooking.”

“You were the one who made them?” you ask.

“Yes, it was I.” he confirms with a proud smile. “That is why I'm rather looking forward to hearing your thoughts.”

You take one of the chocolate hearts and bite into it to taste your favorite filling too. It was delicious and Malleus couldn't have been happier about it. Then you remember your chocolates and get up to get them without telling him what you were going to do in the kitchen. You return with a modest-looking container for cold food in your hands and sit down next to him again.

You apologize for not having a box as pretty as the one he gave you and explain that you didn't know how you were going to get those chocolates to him since they had to be kept cold.

“There is no need to worry about that.” he reassures you with a loving smile. “I completely understand your dilemma. Fortunately, you needn't to think about that anymore for I am already here.”

He gladly accepts the container and opens it.

“They certainly look lovely” he says, smiling. “Am I right in concluding that your container dilemma indicates that you made them?” When he sees you confirm, his smile grows and becomes even more affectionate. “From the looks of it alone you seem to have done an excellent work. I'm looking forward to trying them.”

He carefully picks up one of the chocolates and bites into it, his eyes widen when he realized what the inside was.

“Ice cream...” he mutters to himself with a charming smile and then looks at you lovingly. “Is this why you had trouble figuring out a way to preserve them while transporting them? You focused so much on doing something to my liking that you ended up neglecting the logistical aspect.”

You confirm and he laughs heartily.

“I believe you are as aware of the rules of this tradition as I am.” his smile becomes seductive. “Chocolate made by one's hands should be a declaration of love, shall it not?” He takes your reaction as a confirmation.

He caresses your face before giving you a delicate, loving kiss on the cheek. You look at him and see his lime green eyes shining with the most love there could be.

After that he will offer to accompany you to Diasomnia so you can deliver your chocolates to the others. He will never leave your side again and will find any excuse to get so close to you that he will respectfully put his arm around your shoulder or waist.

Silver is too oblivious to realize what's happening between you and Malleus. As for the chocolates, he doesn't give you your favorites because he doesn't know which they were, but he gives you the ones he genuinely thought and hoped you would like. And even if they weren't your favorites, they were ones you really liked.

Lilia will have that smile every time he looks at you two and will try to mess with you a little. As for the chocolates, he said he would have liked to have made your chocolates himself but, you know, rules and misunderstandings to be avoided. (For a moment you shared Riddle's adoration for rules) So he offers you the most beautiful chocolates of your favorite type that he could find.

Sebek will enter into an internal conflict because he doesn't know whether to be jealous of you or happy for his liege. As for the chocolates, he doesn't give you anything too fancy, the chocolates even seem quite simple and basic, but “coincidentally” they are your favorite type and with your favorite filling too.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

*Sorry for the Cook Leona kinda bait, but let's be real, he would never even try to cook for anyone, not even himself, haha. Also, he is fully aware that he is terrible at cooking and he didn't want to give you poorly made chocolates when he could buy the best ones out there.

Did this get too long? Sorry 😣

Mission: Emotionally Compromised || Jamil Viper

Jamil’s greatest failure as a spy? Falling head over heels for the person he was meant to destroy.

this one is for @chocolatebearstrawberry who made the divider i use here!! i love you <3

As the CEO of one of the most powerful tech companies in the world, you’ve always prided yourself on two things: your razor-sharp business acumen and your ability to sniff out deception from a mile away.

Your competitors, on the other hand, have prided themselves on one thing: trying (and failing) to steal your technology.

For years, you’ve played a high-stakes game of corporate cat and mouse, batting away industrial spies like a bored housecat knocking expensive wine glasses off the counter. You’ve watched billion-dollar corporations sink millions into elaborate heists, only for their agents to fail spectacularly. Frankly, it's getting a little embarrassing for them.

But now, thanks to the untimely departure of your longtime secretary (who swears their early retirement has nothing to do with being bribed into luxury exile), you suddenly have a vacancy.

And judging by the pile of applicants currently waiting in the lobby, every single one of them is a spy.

The Parade of Intelligence Failures™:

First up is Agent Steve (probably not his real name), whose résumé is written in Comic Sans and lists "lockpicking" under "special skills." When you ask him about his previous administrative experience, he stares at you blankly for three full seconds before blurting out, "I can type… very fast?"

Next is Ms. Definitely-Not-Wearing-a-Wire, who keeps touching her ear like she’s communicating with someone. Midway through the interview, you distinctly hear a whisper from her earpiece: "Ask about the security systems."

Then there’s Tech Bro #5, who brings a USB drive and, while maintaining full eye contact with you, tries to plug it into your computer. Your computer. The one sitting on your desk. Right in front of you.

By the time Mr. Fake-ID Falls Out of His Wallet stumbles in, you’re fighting the overwhelming urge to launch yourself out the nearest window.

This is getting pathetic.

You’ve sat through twenty interviews of barely competent corporate espionage, and you’re ready to set up a PowerPoint presentation titled, "How To Spy Without Immediately Getting Caught: A Workshop For Morons."

Do they think you built a billion-dollar empire by being stupid? Do they think your years of fending off corporate espionage haven’t honed your bullshit detector into a finely tuned death laser?

You start debating whether to just hire a golden retriever and call it a day—at least dogs have loyalty.

And then he walks in.

Enter: Jamil Viper.

The moment he steps into your office, you know this one is different.

For one thing, his résumé isn’t riddled with typos or hilariously obvious red flags. His credentials? Flawless. His demeanor? Polished and professional, with just the right amount of charm—not so much that it feels like he’s trying to butter you up, but just enough that you actually want to keep talking to him.

And his entrance exam? He aces it. Perfectly.

Too perfectly.

There is no way in hell that someone this competent just happens to be looking for a secretary position. You know he’s a spy.

But unlike the human disasters before him, Jamil Viper is actually good at his job.

And if someone is going to try and infiltrate your company, wouldn’t you rather it be someone who at least has the decency to be competent about it?

You lean back in your chair, watching him carefully as he sits across from you, his expression unreadable. You wonder how many layers of deception he’s hiding behind that composed facade.

Slowly, a smile creeps onto your lips.

This could be fun.

Because if Jamil Viper thinks he’s going to outmaneuver you, then clearly, no one has warned him that you love playing with fire.

You slide the contract across the desk, extending your hand.

"Congratulations, Mr. Viper," you say, amusement dancing in your voice. "Welcome to the company."

His fingers are warm when they clasp yours in a firm shake. His gaze, sharp and assessing, lingers for just a second too long.

And just like that, you hire a spy to be your personal assistant.

This is either the smartest or the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.

And honestly? You can’t wait to find out which.

Jamil has never questioned his assignments before. His role has always been straightforward—he is given a task, he completes it with precision, and he collects his payment. There is no room for personal involvement, no need for unnecessary complications.

This particular job should have been no different. His directive was clear: infiltrate one of the most formidable tech companies in the industry, assume the role of a secretary, gain the CEO’s trust, retrieve the necessary proprietary data, and exit without raising suspicion.

A simple, methodical process. He estimated it would take no more than a month, perhaps two if the CEO proved particularly cautious.

However, the moment he steps into your office, Jamil recognizes that this assignment will not proceed according to the standard operational model.

You are perceptive. That much is clear from the outset. Your interview questions are sharp, carefully constructed to gauge more than just his administrative skills. You are watching him—not just listening, but studying, assessing. There is a calculating glint in your eyes that suggests you have already categorized him in some way, and he does not yet know whether that categorization is in his favor.

Then comes the moment that shifts the trajectory of his expectations entirely.

You lean back in your chair, fingers steepled as you regard him with an almost amused expression. "So, Mr. Viper," you say, voice laced with something close to mischief, "are you a spy?"

The question is absurd in its directness, yet the casual way you pose it makes it clear that you are not expecting a confession—you are testing him. A lesser operative might have faltered, might have hesitated for the fraction of a second that would betray uncertainty. Jamil, however, meets your gaze evenly, offering a measured smile.

"If I were," he replies smoothly, "would I admit it?"

You laugh—not a dismissive scoff, but an actual, entertained laugh, as if you are thoroughly enjoying this game. And that is what makes Jamil's stomach twist slightly. Because he is beginning to suspect that you already know.

The contract slides across the desk, a silent challenge. He watches as you extend your hand, the motion deliberate, expectant.

He has been in the industry long enough to recognize a trap when he sees one. And yet, despite every internal alarm warning him to be cautious, he shakes your hand.

He has taken on countless assignments in his career, but this time is different.

This time, he is not just infiltrating a company. He is stepping into a game.

And for the first time in his life, Jamil wonders if he is the one being played.

Jamil Viper is, quite frankly, the best thing that has ever happened to you.

You have run this company for years, clawed your way to the top with sheer wit and willpower, and in all that time, you have never known peace. Your life has been a never-ending cycle of fires to put out, idiotic employees making mistakes, and backstabbing business partners who think “compromise” means “stealing your ideas and pretending it was a collaborative effort.”

But then Jamil arrives.

Jamil, with his quiet efficiency and terrifying competence. Jamil, who doesn’t ask you to repeat yourself because he actually listens the first time. Jamil, who doesn’t need reminders because he remembers everything, down to how you like your coffee and which pens mysteriously go missing when your CFO visits.

For the first time in your career, you are leaving work at a reasonable hour.

You actually saw the sunset yesterday. The sunset. Do you know how long it’s been since you’ve seen anything but the dim glow of your office lights at midnight? You don’t. You’re afraid to check.

Your skin? Clear.

Your inbox? Organized.

Your sleep schedule? Still questionable, but at least now it’s due to personal choices and not business emergencies.

You are so overcome with gratitude that you nearly burst into tears when you realize you no longer have to threaten your vendors personally because Jamil handles it all with a few well-placed emails.

He is better than any assistant you have ever had. Possibly better than some of your business partners. Hell, at this rate, you wouldn't be surprised if he could run the company better than you.

Which is exactly why you can’t afford to let him go.

You know why he’s here. You are not naïve. He is undoubtedly a spy, sent to steal your technology, your secrets, your life's work. But the problem is that he is too good. You cannot afford to lose him.

So, you make a decision.

You will convert him to your side.

It’s not just about protecting your company anymore. No, this has become personal. Jamil Viper is yours now. He just doesn’t know it yet.

The numbers didn’t make sense.

You were good at numbers. Numbers were the only thing in this world that didn’t lie. Numbers were solid, unyielding, completely immune to human deception. And yet.

Your CFO had to be skimming. You’d suspected it for a while—no one bought that many first-class flights for “business conferences” that didn’t exist—but now that you finally had the time to actually dig into the company’s finances, you could feel it in your bones. There was money missing. Not a lot at once, just enough that a lazier CEO wouldn’t notice.

But you noticed. And now, sitting in your dark office, practically feral with frustration, you were going to find it.

Jamil peeks into your office, and you see his brows furrow in irritation. He steps inside without invitation, eyes flicking to your desk, to the stacks of papers, to you, hunched over and pulling at your hair like a mad scientist on the brink of discovery.

“…Why are you still here?” His voice is level, but you detect the judgment beneath it. “I made sure your schedule was clear. You should have been home by five.”

You make a vague, distressed sound—somewhere between a whimper and the dying gasp of an overworked CEO. “I have a mouse to hunt,” you say, still frantically flipping through documents. “A very cunning mouse.”

Jamil, to his credit, does not roll his eyes. He does, however, step forward and pluck the file from your grasp before you can protest. His sharp eyes scan the pages, his fingers flipping through them with practiced ease.

You watch as his expression shifts into something thoughtful, his lips pursing slightly, his brows furrowing in deep concentration. You can see his mind working.

Jamil is infuriatingly intelligent. He always has been. You knew it the moment he walked into your office for his interview and answered every question with precision so perfect it was almost suspicious.

But this—this is something else. His eyes flick from one line to another, scanning, calculating, searching.

And then it hits you.

His hair.

His stupidly perfect, annoyingly silky, meticulously styled hair.

The way it’s always just slightly different every day. Some days it’s neater, tied back with care. Some days it’s looser, like he didn’t have time to properly tame it. Some days it’s so perfect it looks effortless, which means it probably took him ages to get it like that.

Your brain connects the dots.

Your CFO’s expenses had fluctuations that made no sense at first glance. But what if—what if the embezzlement wasn’t consistent? What if he only siphoned money on certain days—days when he needed to make the numbers look normal, like a fluctuation in operational costs?

Like how Jamil’s hair was slightly different depending on how rushed he was in the morning.

Your eyes widen. You grab Jamil’s arm.

“It’s the payroll processing days,” you say, the revelation clicking together. “The numbers don’t match on payroll weeks because he’s hiding them within the irregular adjustments! He’s only stealing when payroll is being processed because that’s when the accounts fluctuate naturally.”

Jamil blinks, then looks back at the files, and you see it—the exact moment he finds the irregularity, the way his eyes sharpen, the way the corner of his lips twitch in mild irritation.

“…Huh,” he says, flipping back to double-check.

You beam at him. “Jamil, I could kiss you.”

He does not react, but his ears turn slightly red. He hands the file back. “Don’t. Just fire your CFO.”

“Oh, I will.” You grin, stretching your arms behind your head. “And then I’m going to have so much fun ruining his career.”

Jamil gives you a look. You pretend not to see it.

Jamil has worked for a lot of powerful people before. He’s seen how they act—detached, ruthless, calculating. People who don’t say thank you unless there’s an audience, people who treat loyalty as a transaction rather than a virtue, people who see their employees as numbers on a spreadsheet rather than human beings.

And then there’s you.

You, who smile at every single employee as if they’re the most interesting person in the world.

You, who face betrayals with an easy grin, as if it’s just another puzzle to solve.

You, who refuse to be jaded, as if the sheer weight of your responsibilities isn’t trying to crush you every single day.

Jamil has worked as a secretary before, long enough to know that this is not normal. It’s not normal for a CEO to approve leave requests without question, to cover all medical expenses without a fight, to sit down at the employee cafeteria and listen to people’s grievances like a normal person.

It’s definitely not normal for you to turn to him at the end of a long, grueling day—after uncovering a massive embezzlement scandal in your own company—and say, “Let’s get dinner. My treat.”

Jamil expects a high-end restaurant. The kind of place where the portions are offensively small, the food is questionably pretentious, and the bill alone could sustain an entire household for a month. The kind of place where people like you—people with power, people with money—go to flaunt their superiority.

Instead, you take him to a tiny, hole-in-the-wall restaurant run by an elderly couple who clearly know you on a first-name basis.

“Ah, welcome back!” the old woman greets you warmly, eyes flicking to Jamil with curiosity. “And who’s this? A date?”

Jamil chokes on air.

You laugh—loudly—and wave off the comment. “Nah, just my secretary! He helped me catch a mouse today.”

Jamil doesn’t bother correcting you.

The menu is scrawled in barely legible handwriting on a whiteboard near the counter. You order the greasiest, most artery-clogging meal he’s ever seen in his life. Jamil orders something safer, something that won’t take five years off his lifespan.

When the food arrives, you practically vibrate in your seat, taking a bite with the enthusiasm of a child eating their first piece of candy.

Jamil stares at you in mild horror. “You eat this every day?”

You grin, already halfway through your meal. “Yeah.”

Jamil doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

But he eats. He eats, and he listens to you ramble about ridiculous workplace rumors, and he watches you laugh so hard you snort when you make a terrible joke.

And somewhere in the middle of all that, Jamil finds himself laughing too.

Not because your joke is funny—because it isn’t. It’s awful, actually.

But maybe because your eyes shine too brightly in the dim light.

Maybe because you seem so human right now, so painfully, vividly human.

Maybe because he knows he’ll have to leave you behind soon, and yet here he is, eating unhealthy food and smiling at you.

Jamil has never questioned his jobs before. He gets paid, he gets the work done. Simple.

So why does it feel so different this time?

Jamil has worked for some eccentric people before. Billionaires with more money than sense, CEOs who thought meditation on top of a glass skyscraper would give them divine insight, a director who once insisted that his morning coffee had to be stirred exactly 72 times counterclockwise or the stock market would crash. He’s seen it all. Or so he thought.

And then there was you.

You were a genius, of course. No one could deny that. You had single-handedly revolutionized an entire industry and kept your technology locked down so tightly that even the best corporate spies had walked away empty-handed.

But you were also—how to put this nicely?—completely, utterly unhinged. Eccentric was too mild a word. You were like a mad scientist and a particularly stubborn golden retriever had been fused together in a tragic yet strangely effective laboratory accident.

Jamil has had a front-row seat to your absurdity for months now, but today? Today takes the cake.

He enters the office expecting chaos, but he still isn't prepared to see a bouncy castle taking up the center of the room. It is massive. Garish. A primary-colored monstrosity that clashes violently with the sleek, modern aesthetic of your office. It is also, for some reason, fully inflated.

Jamil watches as you bounce in deep concentration, your tie undone, your shoes discarded somewhere in the corner. Your movements are precise, like each jump is a carefully calibrated equation.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dare I ask?”

You pause mid-bounce, floating for a second in the air like some kind of enlightened acrobat before landing gracefully and turning to him with a grin. “I needed to think.”

“…So naturally, you brought a bouncy castle.”

“Of course.” You wave a hand, as if this should be obvious. “Sometimes, when my brain gets stuck, I just need a little kinetic stimulation. You know, shake up the neurons.” You jump again, flailing slightly before catching yourself. “It’s like—have you ever had a word on the tip of your tongue, and then you do something completely different and suddenly it comes to you? Same concept. Except instead of drinking water or taking a walk, I jump on an inflatable castle like a responsible adult.”

Jamil stares. His headache is already forming. “You’re going to break your neck.”

“Nope! Tested the weight limits. We’re good.” You bounce again, then stop abruptly, eyes widening. Your entire posture shifts, shoulders straightening, expression sharpening. You scramble off the castle, grab a nearby notebook, and start writing furiously.

Jamil watches, baffled, as you tear through an entire page with equations and diagrams, the kind of thing that would take a normal person weeks to conceptualize. And then you stop, beaming like a kid who just cracked open a piñata full of gold.

“I GOT IT,” you declare, spinning the notebook around as if Jamil has the clearance—or the desire—to understand whatever ridiculous breakthrough you just had. “This is going to make everything ten times more efficient! Jamil, this is genius.”

Jamil, who has not slept properly in three days because of this mission, who has already accepted that this job is going to either kill him or make him reconsider every life decision he has ever made, just sighs. “Great. So was the bouncy castle necessary?”

You turn back to him, eyes bright, smile wider than he’s ever seen. “Absolutely.”

And the worst part? The part that truly makes him question if he’s losing his mind?

He almost believes you.

Meetings like this made you wonder if you could get away with legally replacing the entire board with three possums in a trench coat. These relics in overpriced suits had two working brain cells between them, and one was currently occupied with nursing last night’s hangover.

They thought that their decades of mismanaging money somehow gave them wisdom. You would almost find it impressive, the way they clung to their illusion of relevance, if it weren’t so unbearably tedious.

You could fire them all, of course. You could clear this room in five minutes, clean house with a snap of your fingers, but you had held back out of sheer pity. They were close to retirement—one foot in the grave and the other on a luxury cruise.

Let them ride out their last few years clutching their outdated business strategies and egos. It wasn’t like they actually did anything.

But today? Today, you were at your limit.

Jamil was standing behind you, stone-faced, but you could tell he wanted to be anywhere else. His exhaustion mirrored your own. You’d been sitting here for an hour while they droned on about numbers they clearly didn’t understand.

Internally, you begged for something—anything—to spontaneously combust just so you’d have an excuse to leave. A small fire? A sudden, mysterious blackout? A divine intervention from the heavens themselves?

And then, as if the universe had heard you and decided to throw you a different kind of entertainment, one of them made a mistake. A grave mistake.

“—not that it matters to someone like you,” one of the old fossils sneered, voice soaked in condescension. “You just sit there and look pretty. Maybe that’s why you keep your secretary around—eye candy to brighten your day, hm?”

Silence.

Jamil felt the shift before he saw it. The room, which had been filled with the usual underhanded comments and the shuffling of papers, went utterly still. The air thickened, tension snapping tight like a bowstring.

You moved, slow and deliberate, sitting up from your languid position and resting your elbows on the table. Then, with a sharp crack that echoed through the room, you slammed your hand against the polished wood. Jamil was pretty sure he saw the surface splinter.

And then, you smiled.

“Say,” you said, your voice honey-sweet, “how’s your son’s wedding prep going?”

The man blinked, startled by the sudden shift in topic. “Uh—fine?”

“That’s wonderful.” You laced your fingers together, tilting your head like a benevolent ruler addressing a particularly stupid peasant. “I hope he has a strong savings account. And you, too, for that matter.”

His confusion deepened. “Why would—?”

“Because as of right now, every single one of you is fired.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

You stood, straightening your sleeves, your expression as calm as if you’d just commented on the weather. The rest of the board gaped at you, struggling to process what had just happened.

“Pack your things,” you continued, tone still sickeningly pleasant. “Security will escort you out. Your pensions will remain untouched—I’m not a monster—but your presence is no longer required. Effective immediately.”

Then, without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and strolled out of the room.

Jamil took a moment to savor the stunned expressions, the way the old man who had made the comment looked like he was trying to compute his own downfall in real time. He had seen you be cunning, eccentric, absurd, even, but this was the first time he had seen you wield your power properly. It was—

Well.

He wasn’t about to admit it was impressive.

Or flattering.

Not even as he followed you out the door, suppressing the smallest, most insufferable urge to smile.

You’re good at reading people. That’s what makes you such a good CEO. You can tell when a business partner is about to backstab you. You can spot a bad deal from a mile away. You figured out your CFO was embezzling money based on a hunch and a particularly sleepless night.

So why the hell can’t you figure out what’s going on with Jamil right now?

Your day is over. Your work is done. You’re walking out of the building, feeling suspiciously well-rested for once, because Jamil is the best damn secretary you’ve ever had.

And there he is.

Standing near the exit, very much still here, despite having clocked out hours ago.

You stop. Blink. “Jamil? What are you doing here?”

He startles like you caught him committing a felony.

Which, honestly, makes you even more confused.

Jamil is the picture of composure in any situation. He could talk his way out of a hostage negotiation, probably. He could charm a boardroom full of old, corporate sharks into agreeing with his terms.

And yet, right now, he looks like he wants to evaporate.

You tilt your head. “What’s up? You good?”

Jamil scowls like you’ve offended his ancestors. And then, without meeting your gaze, he thrusts a box at you.

"Eat properly," he grumbles. "Heaven knows you can afford it."

And then he turns on his heel and almost sprints out of the building.

You stare at his retreating figure. Then you stare at the box in your hands.

What just happened.

You consider yourself a genius. You built an empire with your own two hands. You have patents worth billions. You have business rivals who would kill to know what goes on in your head.

And yet, this one interaction has you completely, utterly lost.

It’s only when you get home that you actually open the box.

Inside is a clearly homemade meal. Balanced, nutritious, and suspiciously catered to your exact tastes.

You crouch down. Laugh a little.

And then you pull out your phone.

You: thank you <3

Meanwhile, In Jamil’s car:

He hears the message notification. Opens it. Sees your text.

And immediately slams his forehead into the steering wheel.

The honk that follows is so obnoxiously loud that a street cat outside lets out an ungodly scream and scrambles away like it just witnessed a murder.

Jamil exhales sharply. He grips the wheel like it personally wronged him.

You’re going to be the death of him.

Jamil does not get sick.

It is a fact as ironclad as his ability to keep a secret, as certain as the sun rising in the east and setting behind your ridiculous office where you concoct new ways to stress him out.

Jamil does not get sick because sickness is a weakness—an opening in his otherwise airtight, bulletproof existence.

And yet.

Here he is.

Dying. Absolutely, irredeemably, spectacularly dying.

His body betrays him completely, weighed down by a fever that could probably fry an egg on his forehead. Every muscle aches as if he has been tossed into a meat grinder, his throat is raw, and his head is a battlefield of pain and regret.

He barely manages to lift his phone and call you, the only person who needs to know why he’s breaking protocol and skipping work for the first time in his entire life.

The phone rings. Once. Twice.

And then—

“Jamil! What’s up?”

Too loud. Why are you always so loud? He winces, nearly drops his phone on his face.

“I… I can’t come in today.” His voice is hoarse, unrecognizable. Disgusting. He clears his throat, which only makes it worse. “I’m sick.”

There is a long, stunned silence.

Then, very, very slowly—

“You’re what?”

Jamil closes his eyes. He does not have the strength for this conversation.

“Sick,” he repeats, barely suppressing the urge to just fade out of existence right then and there.

Another pause. Then, in a tone that is so soft he almost doesn’t recognize it coming from you—

“…Oh.”

Something about the way you say it makes his stomach twist—though that could also be the fever.

“Take care of yourself, okay?” you say, genuinely concerned. “Rest, drink water, and if you need anything—”

He does not hear the rest.

Because he blacks out.

Jamil is sick.

Jamil, your unshakable, hyper-competent, borderline immortal assistant—the man who somehow pulls miracles out of thin air while looking vaguely unimpressed—is sick.

You expected betrayals, corporate espionage, elaborate counter-strategies in your ongoing war to get him on your side.

You did not expect this.

And worse—he sounded awful.

Not just tired. Not just mildly inconvenienced.

You sit at your desk for approximately three minutes, trying to convince yourself that it’s fine, that Jamil is a grown man who can take care of himself.

Then you Google “how to care for a sick employee” and make the deeply logical decision to immediately drop everything and go check on him yourself.

Which is how you end up outside his apartment, ringing the doorbell like a maniac.

There is no response.

You ring again. And again.

Nothing.

A small, horrible thought creeps in. What if he passed out? What if he hit his head? What if he—

Just as you're about to kick down the door in a move that would absolutely get you arrested, it creaks open.

And Jamil is standing there.

Barely.

He looks terrible.

His usual sharp, careful composure? Gone. His hair is an absolute wreck, his eyes are dazed, and his entire body is actively betraying him by swaying on his feet like a tragic willow in a storm.

You are horrified.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, stepping forward before he can literally collapse. “Jamil, you look—”

Like death. Like the very concept of suffering incarnate.

But you do not say this out loud, because you are a good person.

Instead, you step into his space and grab him before he keels over.

“You’re burning up,” you mutter, steadying him. “When was the last time you ate?”

Jamil blinks at you very slowly, like his brain is buffering at dial-up speeds.

“…Food?”

That is not an answer.

You curse under your breath and haul him back inside, which is a feat of great strength because he is all lean muscle and fever deadweight.

How did this happen? Why did this happen? Who let this happen?

Oh. Right. Him.

Jamil is going to die.

Not from the fever, no. That would be merciful.

He is going to die from sheer embarrassment because you—his boss, his greatest headache, his most infuriating problem—are here, in his apartment, fussing over him like some kind of divine punishment.

He barely registers you pulling out a thermometer and shoving it into his mouth with all the grace of someone who has never done this before.

The numbers blink back at you ominously.

“You’re burning up,” you mutter. “Okay, I’m ordering soup. And you are not moving until you eat something.”

Jamil tries to protest. He does.

But then you press a cool towel against his forehead, and—

Oh.

Oh, that is nice.

His body betrays him once again by relaxing into your touch.

By the time the soup arrives, he is too weak to even lift the spoon properly.

So you—without hesitation, without a single ounce of normal human shame—just feed him.

Like a child.

Like he is some helpless, pathetic creature.

Which, okay, maybe right now, he is.

But still. This is humiliating.

It is also the best soup he has ever had in his life.

Jamil finally falls back asleep.

And you sit there, staring at his peaceful, fever-flushed face, wondering how the hell this became your life.

You were supposed to be running a company, not playing nurse to your best-paid spy.

You should not care this much.

And yet.

You check his temperature again. Still high, but better.

You sigh, raking a hand through your hair, and grab your phone.

“Okay,” you mutter into the receiver, pacing the room. “But what do I do if he wakes up and refuses to rest?”

A pause.

Your voice drops, quieter. “Yeah, I know. I just don’t want him to push himself again.”

Behind you, Jamil shifts.

You do not notice.

But he notices you.

Your hair is mussed, your usual sharp, teasing grin replaced with something softer.

You look worried. For him.

Jamil stares, something twisting in his chest.

Oh.

Oh, he is so incredibly doomed.

You always knew Jamil was a spy. That much was obvious.

The way he answered every question perfectly in his interview? Suspicious.

The way he executed his tasks with military precision? Suspicious.

The way he didn’t try to subtly flirt with you or brown-nose like all the other incompetent spies before him? Extremely suspicious.

But he was competent. So stupidly, ridiculously competent. And you’d rather keep an enemy that made your life easier than deal with another incompetent fool.

Besides, you like playing with fire. So you decided to see how far you could push him.

So tonight, you left your office unlocked. Oh no. What a terrible mistake. If only someone didn’t sneak in and steal your files.

And to make things more interesting, you left some semi-important files open on your computer. Documents that looked serious enough to be tempting but wouldn’t actually do much damage if leaked.

Right before you left, you made sure to sigh dramatically in front of Jamil and say, “Ugh, these files have been keeping me up at night. I sure hope they don’t get leaked or anything.”

Then, you went to your surveillance setup, made yourself some popcorn, and watched.

Because of course Jamil was going to take the bait.

And sure enough, there he was.

You watch as he sits down at your desk. Silent. Focused. The very picture of efficiency.

You lean forward as he navigates to the files. Click. Click. Scroll. His fingers hover over the copy button.

And then—

He just… stops.

Your eyebrows shoot up. Oh?

Jamil stares at the screen like it personally insulted his honor. His fingers twitch over the keyboard, hesitating.

Your interest piques. He should’ve copied them by now. He’s supposed to be a professional, isn’t he?

He clicks out of the important files.

Your jaw nearly drops. What.

He clicks out. He clicks out. He actively chooses not to take anything of worth.

Instead, you watch as he scrolls past all the confidential reports—

—bypasses all the juicy, corporate secrets—

—ignores all the schematics—

—and copies a single folder labeled “raccoons_for_a_rainy_day.zip.”

You almost choke on your popcorn.

Jamil pauses. Stares at the screen for a long, long moment.

Then, as if committing a terrible crime, he ejects the USB, tucks it away, and swiftly leaves your office.

You sit there, stunned.

Because out of everything in your company’s database, out of all the valuable information he could’ve stolen—

He took your emergency raccoon meme collection.

You blink. Once. Twice.

And then, slowly, a grin spreads across your face.

Oh. Oh, this is delightful.

You knew you were converting him to your side, but this? This is proof.

Jamil, the competent, efficient, dangerously intelligent spy, had a perfect chance to complete his mission. And instead of betraying you, he chose to betray his employer instead.

For you.

How flattering.

You had dealt with a lot of strange things in your life. A lot. But this? This was definitely one of the stupidest.

Your old secretary—the one who took a bribe and fled like a rat from a sinking ship—was currently sitting in front of you, begging for her job back. Why? Who the hell knew. You had been certain that the bribe she took would have lasted her a few years, maybe even bought her a cute little vacation somewhere far away, but apparently, money couldn’t buy wisdom. Or, in her case, common sense.

You leaned back in your chair, fingers steepled together, watching her ramble through increasingly desperate justifications. I’ve changed. I’ve grown. I’ve learned from my mistakes. You doubted it.

Jamil stood beside you, completely unreadable, but you knew him well enough by now to recognize the signs of his barely contained fury. His shoulders were stiff, his posture rigid, and—most damning of all—his fists were clenched so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

Oh, interesting.

Obviously, you weren’t rehiring her. She wasn’t even ten percent as competent as Jamil, and unlike her, Jamil wasn’t stupid enough to take a bribe when you were the one offering him far more than money. But this? This was a perfect opportunity to test something.

So you sighed, long and dramatic, before rubbing your temples as if this decision physically pained you. “I’ll consider it,” you said finally. “I’ll call you back once I’ve made my decision.”

Her face lit up, all eager gratitude, and she left the office with a bounce in her step.

The moment the door clicked shut behind her, you stood, intending to grab a file from your cabinet—but you didn’t get far.

Because Jamil blocked your path.

You blinked at him, more amused than anything, but your amusement flickered into something softer when you saw his face.

He looked wrecked.

Not in an angry way, not even in a controlled, simmering fury. No—this was something else entirely. His eyes searched yours like he was trying to find some sort of answer, his breath slightly uneven, his expression utterly betrayed. He looked like you had punched him in the gut.

You had seen Jamil irritated, seen him exasperated, seen him indulge in rare moments of smugness when his plans went exactly as intended. But this? This raw emotion spilling out of him like a dam breaking—this was new. And you couldn’t stop the way your heartbeat stuttered at the sight.

“Why?” His voice came out hoarse, like he barely trusted himself to speak. “Why would you… Why would you even consider hiring her back?”

You tilted your head, keeping your voice light. “Why does it bother you so much?”

Jamil’s mouth opened—then snapped shut. You could practically see his thoughts racing, running too fast for him to catch up, but something cracked inside of him, because once he started speaking, he couldn’t stop.

“Did I mess up?” he demanded, voice sharper than he probably intended. “Was I not good enough? Did I do something wrong? Why would you—” He cut himself off, exhaling shakily, his hands twitching at his sides like he desperately wanted to reach for you. “You know she isn’t competent. You know she isn’t better than me.”

You hummed, tilting your head in faux thoughtfulness. “Of course, I’ll give you a different position,” you mused. “No need to worry about job security.”

Jamil broke.

Before you could even register the movement, he grabbed you.

His hands found your face, his fingers curling against your skin like he needed to ground himself, like he needed to prove something—and then, he kissed you.

It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t polite. It was desperate, burning with frustration and something deeper, something so much more vulnerable than you had ever expected from him.

And then, hypothesis proven, you kissed him back.

For a moment, you simply blinked.

Jamil pulls away like he just touched something scalding, his breath uneven, his eyes wide with something close to terror. You watch as realization sets in—his own actions hitting him all at once, like a dam finally bursting and drowning him in the consequences of his own emotions.

“I—” His voice is hoarse, almost shaky, but he’s trying to regain control, trying to salvage something, anything. “I’m not who you think I am.” He says it like a confession, like a last-ditch effort to make you see reason, to make you step back and realize that you shouldn’t want him, that you shouldn’t choose him. “I was hired to—”

“My dear, sweet spy,” you interrupt, voice dripping with amused affection, “won’t you be mine?”

Jamil freezes.

You can see the exact second it dawns on him. The way his expression shifts from confused horror to pure, unfiltered disbelief. You knew. You always knew. Of course you did. He should’ve realized it sooner. You were too sharp, too perceptive, too you to have been in the dark about something so crucial.

And yet, here you were. Choosing him anyway.

His lips twitch. His shoulders shake. And then, he laughs.

Not a small chuckle, not a bitter scoff, but a real laugh, something rare and unguarded, something so genuinely light that it catches even him off guard. He laughs so hard that he nearly doubles over, his forehead dropping against yours as he exhales shakily, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

You feel his breath ghost against your skin, feel the warmth of him so close, and yet, there is no hesitation anymore, no careful, measured distance.

He shakes his head, still breathless from laughing, and when he finally meets your gaze, his expression is something unreadable, something painfully soft.

And this time, when he kisses you, there’s no fear left.

“…Fine,” he murmurs, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable than you’ve ever heard it. “I’m yours.”

You wake up to the warmth of an arm draped over your waist, the steady rise and fall of a familiar chest behind you. It’s a rare thing—to wake before Jamil. He’s always been the early riser between you, slipping out of bed before the sun has even had the chance to settle into the sky. But today, for the first time in two years, you’re the one watching him sleep.

Two years since his terrified confession. Two years since you pulled him into the kind of love neither of you had ever expected to find. Two years of whispered promises, stolen kisses, and a loyalty that runs deeper than any mission, deeper than any past betrayal.

The early morning light filters in through the curtains, soft and golden, catching on the matching rings on your fingers. A quiet proof of what you’ve built together. The sight makes something tender settle in your chest, and you press a kiss to his forehead, gentle and lingering.

Jamil stirs, brow furrowing for just a moment before he instinctively pulls you closer, his grip tightening around your waist. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, voice thick with sleep as he murmurs, “Why’re you awake so early…?”

You smile, carding your fingers through his hair as you whisper, “Go back to sleep.”

And as the warmth of him lulls you back into slumber, a thought drifts lazily through your mind—

"You sleep too," he grumbles, but it’s lazy, half-hearted. You can already feel his breath evening out, his body relaxing against yours once more. You keep stroking his hair, slow and rhythmic, feeling the last bits of tension melt from his frame.

Maybe playing with fire was the smartest move you ever made.

Masterlist

Could I request Diasomnia with a partner who's a smithy? Besides weapons, they can also craft tools, kitchenware, tableware, jewelry, armour, and anything else made of metal.

thank you for waiting this long <3

Diasomnia with a Blacksmith! Reader

Malleus Draconia – The Dragon Prince’s Personal Artisan

The first time he visits your forge, he’s utterly enchanted—not by the flames, but by you. Watching you work, hammering molten metal with such skill, is far more mesmerizing than any spellwork.

He commissions you to craft him a custom weapon, but it turns into a long-standing habit. Now, you’ve made him jewelry, ornate goblets, and a ridiculously expensive teapot set because he wanted to see how you’d do it.

Gets lowkey jealous of the things you make. “You spend so much time crafting weapons for others. Shouldn’t your finest work belong to me?”

Definitely flexes your work in his hoard. Will absolutely hoard you too if given the chance.

If you try to gift him something small and personal—like a pendant or a signet ring—he gets unreasonably soft about it. You just handed this ancient dragon prince a trinket, and now it’s his most prized possession.

Lilia Vanrouge – Chaos Gremlin Patron

"Ah, metalwork! I was quite the smith in my youth!" he says, as he spectacularly fails to make a dent in a copper sheet.

He is the most annoying client because he commissions the weirdest things. Once asked you to make him a sword with a detachable spoon. He used it to eat soup at a war camp.

Always hanging upside down in your forge, asking too many questions. “What does this do? Can I touch it? Oh? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You make him a personalized dagger with his name etched in glowing runes, thinking he’d use it in battle. He instead uses it to cut vegetables while cooking. (It’s the only reason the vegetables survive his cooking.)

But when it comes down to it, Lilia deeply respects your craft. If he ever gifts you anything, it’s always materials from far-off lands, rare ores, and enchanted metals that sing under your hammer.

Absolutely goes feral if anyone tries to disrespect your work. You won’t even know what happened. One moment, someone is criticizing your craftsmanship—next moment, they’re pale, shaking, and handing you money while Lilia smiles behind them.

Silver – The Knight Who Always Falls Asleep Near Your Forge

He respects your work immensely but has terrible luck visiting you. He always falls asleep while waiting.

You once found him passed out against your anvil. You almost clocked him with a hammer thinking he was a burglar.

But the best part? He sleeps like an absolute angel in the most inconvenient spots. On your workbench? Yup. Leaning against a suit of armor? Done. Balanced on a pile of metal ingots? How??

When he’s awake, though, he’s very earnest about learning. He wants to understand how to take care of his weapons, so he often asks you to teach him maintenance techniques.

You sharpen his sword once, and he treats it like you personally saved his life. He insists that your work makes him faster and sharper in battle.

If he ever sees you working late, he’ll gently put a cloak over you and tell you to rest. But if you refuse? Fine. He’ll sit next to you and fall asleep while pretending to keep you company.

Sebek Zigvolt – Loudest Supporter, Most Aggressive Customer

"HUH?! YOU FORGE METAL?! INCREDIBLE! ASTOUNDING! I SHALL ONLY COMMISSION FROM YOU!!!” (You are now his personal smith. You had no say in this.)

He demands the strongest, most unbreakable weapons. You make him a sword once, and he treats it like it's a divine relic.

Tries to act like he’s too dignified to be impressed, but the first time he sees you pull molten metal from the forge, his jaw drops.

You gift him a custom sword with his family crest, and he is red in the face. "W-WHAT?! THIS IS—HOW DID—FOR ME?!?!” You swear you saw sparkles around his head.

Complains about you “wasting time” making non-weaponry, but secretly loves everything you make. Once, you gave him a metal drinking flask for travel, and he now refuses to use anything else.

Will loudly threaten anyone who disrespects your craft, even if they didn’t say anything. Someone casually mentions a blacksmith in another town? Sebek immediately starts yelling: "THEY CANNOT POSSIBLY MATCH MY CRAFTSMAN!!!”

He also secretly admires your patience and dedication. Late at night, when you’re working under the dim glow of the forge, he just watches in quiet awe. Sometimes, he forgets to yell.

Masterlist

I saw you wanted some requests!!

Could I request kissing Idia all over his face? I just feel like it’d be so funny to see his reaction

I hope you have a lovely day!!

idia shroud who’s doomed with lots of kisses.

Idia was losing. Badly. And it wasn’t his fault—it could never be his fault—his teammates were just outright incompetent.

“Seriously? Who runs straight into the enemy’s trap without checking the map first?” he grumbled. “Do they even understand the concept of positioning?”

You were just lying on his chest, your body nestled comfortably against his as you watched him play. Your arms were wrapped around his torso, your face just inches from his, and you hummed a quiet tune to entertain yourself.

You were so close. Too close.

And yet... Idia didn’t mind. In fact, he kind of liked it.

He still couldn’t believe you two were like this now—so close, so comfortable. A year ago, he wouldn’t have even dreamed of letting someone into his room, much less on his bed. But now... it was his favorite thing in the world.

Especially when it was you.

Well, you were always the only exception to him whenever it came to almost anything.

Idia tried to focus on his game, his eyes glued to the screen as his character dodged another poorly timed attack from the enemy. “Are they... are they actually feeding the enemy team?! Oh my Sevens, I’m going to spam report them with all of my accounts.” He let out a dramatic sigh, his hair flickering with frustrated flames.

“Amateurs... all of them.”

“You get so worked up over your games,” you tease, your voice warm and affectionate.

He huffed, his eyes narrowing at the screen. “I-It’s because they’re so bad! I mean, seriously, who rushes into a 1v4 without backup?! Do they even know how to play?!”

You just smiled, your fingers gently tracing patterns on his chest. He wore his teal hoodie, the one you got him just because you can. “You’re cute when you get all frustrated.”

“They’re just... so ugh. It’s like they’ve never played a MOBA before.” His fingers moved with practiced precision, his character launching a series of attacks that wiped out two enemies in quick succession. “See? That’s how you do it. If I weren’t here, they’d be doomed.

You didn’t respond, your eyes still focused on him. Idia’s heart raced when he noticed, his fingers faltering on the controller. You were looking at him with that expression again—that sweet, adoring look that made his stomach burst with butterflies and his mind go blank.

He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on his game, but it was impossible. You were too close, too warm, too... loving.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“You look cute when you’re focused.”

He scoffed, his face heating up. “I don’t look cute. I look serious. Intense. Like a soldier.”

“You’re cute,” you insisted, laughing. “Very cute.”

His heart skipped a beat, his fingers faltering on the controller. He narrowly avoided an incoming ultimate skill, his character’s health dropping dangerously low. “H-Hey, don’t distract me!”

“But it’s fun.”

Idia rolled his eyes, sighing. “You’re supposed to be my co-pilot. Aren’t you supposed to be helping me win?”

“I am helping. I’m boosting your morale.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, right. Some morale boost...”

Before he could say more, you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his chin.

Idia’s heart stopped.

His body went rigid, his breath catching in his throat. Your lips were warm and soft, lingering for just a moment before you pulled away as if it was the most common thing to do.

His character died on screen, the revival countdown flashing in bold white numbers. Idia barely noticed, his mind reeling from the sensation of your kiss.

“[Name]...?”

“I told you it was a morale boost.” How could you casually shrug this off?!

Idia stared at you. How did you two get here? How did he get to the point where he was lying on his bed with his girlfriend, cuddling up to him, kissing him like it was the most natural thing in the world?

More importantly, how did he get to the point where he was okay with it? Did he actually want you to be this close?

Your lips brushed his cheek, softer this time, a feather-light touch that sent shivers down his spine. Idia’s breath hitched, his fingers clenching around his controller.

“W-What are you doing?” His voice was embarrassingly weak, his heart pounding in his chest. God, how pathetic he sounded.

You, however, didn’t answer, your lips trailing along his cheekbones. Then you kissed his forehead, his nose, and even the little mole on his temple.

Idia’s hands trembled, his controller slipping from his fingers and falling onto the mattress beside him. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer, his body moving on its own.

“I like watching you play,” you admitted quietly. “You get so focused. It’s adorable.”

He groaned, his head falling back against his pillow.

“You’re... evil...”

You laughed. “You’re just realizing that now?”

“You’re worse than players who don’t know how to cast their character’s ultimate combo.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You then leaned in and kissed him again, this time on the corner of his mouth.

His heart was pounding so loudly he was sure you could hear it. You were so, so close now, your face just inches from his.

He swallowed hard. “You’re... really close...”

“Do you want me to move?”

“No.”

“Ok.”

He never thought he’d get to this point—never thought he’d find someone who accepted him, who cared for him, who wanted to be close to him. Someone who could understand him and make him feel as though he deserves to be loved unconditionally.

And yet, here you were, lying in his arms, your warmth seeping into him, your presence filling every corner of his heart.

“I... really like you.”

He likes saying it when he feels as though he needs to say it, which isn’t often, so it holds sentiment and tenderness.

“I like you too, Idia. Really, really like you.”

Idia was doomed. Completely, absolutely, undeniably doomed... and he never wanted to be saved.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

Jealousy, Jealousy

Summary: How the act when they're jealous

Characters: All (-Ortho)

A/N: Something something Floyd <3

Riddle Rosehearts:

He’s ashamed about it

He knows that being jealous is toxic and he hates that he’s feeling that, so he ignores it

He pretends he’s not jealous and hopes it just goes away, and yet… it hasn’t

He knows you’re dating him and he has nothing to worry about. But the way that guy is being so touchy and getting so close to you… it makes him want to collar the guy right then and there

He doesn’t because that would be unreasonable, but he does decide that he needs to talk to you. If ignoring it won’t work, then he’ll just have to face it and talk to you about it.

So, he walks over and asks to talk with you privately

“I don’t like how friendly that guy was with you. I know you love me, but I’m jealous. It’s silly and childish and I’m sorry that you have to deal with me being like this. I tried to ignore it, but it got worse, so I thought telling you about it would help. And again, I’m sorry.”

He’s so sincerely apologetic about it

Because he doesn’t want you to feel bad or feel like you have to stop being friends with that guy just because he’s jealous

Just tell him that it’s okay and remind him that you love him and only him

And a date would help too. Maybe a private tea party in the rose gardens

Trey Clover:

He doesn’t get jealous easily. He’s so confident in his relationship that “what if…” thoughts of you cheating or leaving him hasn’t once crossed his mind, BUT…

There is a line that shouldn’t be crossed

This guy acts so casual and nice around you, and he’s happy about it and he wished it stopped there

But then the next day, the guys is standing closer, being more touchy, and his voice sounds more flirtatious

Trey knows you don’t hear how he’s speaking, because if you did you would’ve moved away or told him you were taken or something. But you just kept talking to him with a smile

So, Trey walks over to shut this guy down before he takes it too far

“Hey. So sorry to interrupt, but they’re taken. I’m Trey, Y/N’s boyfriend. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He’s so polite that you can’t tell he’s even jealous

He lets you finish your conversation with him, but he stays there with you to make sure he doesn’t do or say anything

And the next day, he keeps you all to himself

He takes you out to eat, shows you around Sage’s island, bakes with you (or talks to you while you watch him bake) and then invites you to stay over and watch a couple movies of your choice before falling asleep in each others arms

Nobody could even tell he’s jealous

Cater Diamond:

So pouty

He gets jealous and walks around with a pout on his face

He doesn’t even check Magicam!

It’s not hard for him to get jealous either

You smile at someone for a bit longer than usual? He’s jealous. You let someone stand a little too close? He’s jealous. You agree to hang out with them one-on-one? He’s jealous.

He doesn’t like being jealous, and he tries to hide how often he gets jealous. Usually it works. He just takes a few days to think it over and then he’s perfectly fine.

But, sometimes it becomes unavoidable and he can’t hide it. And at those times, he invites you to his room so he can talk to you

“That guy you studied with yesterday was being pretty buddy-buddy with you. Almost like you’re a couple. But, last time I checked, we were dating. And I don’t think our relationship is open right now. Wanna explain yourself?”

He doesn’t realize how accusatory he sounds

It’s like he’s interrogating you and doesn’t realize it

And he does feel bad when he realize how he sounds, because he knows it’s not your fault

He apologizes for being so accusatory and asks you to have a study date with him later that day

You get to his room after class and he’s n set up for something that isn’t a study date

His LEDs (He has LEDs because I said so) are on a nice pinkish color, the room smells like cherry blossoms and he has a little dinner for two set up on his desk with an extra chair that he borrowed from Trey’s room. And before you go back to your dorm, he gives you a bouquet of roses

Ace Trappola:

Believe it or not, he doesn’t get jealous that often

But when he is, he doesn’t waste any time

Some guy thinks he can just put his hand on your arm, and stand so close, and tell you that he’s always free if you want to “hang out”? Hell no

He’s immediately baring his teeth like a lion

Not literally, but you could definitely tell he’s jealous with one look

He just walks over to you and forces this guy to back off. And if the other guy doesn’t back down, he’s not afraid to fight him

“Hey. Back off! For your information, they’re my partner. MY partner! Not yours. Why don’t you back up and keep your dirty little hands off of them. Wouldn’t want them to catch whatever creep disease you have. Hey, babe, let’s go. I want to make you dinner tonight.”

He gets you out of there as fast he can

He also doesn’t straight up tell you not to talk to that guys (especially if he’s your friend) but he does say “that guy makes me uncomfortable”

And he takes you back to his dorm and makes you dinner (Riddle and Trey have to step in because he almost ruins it. He tried and that’s what matters)

He also ask you to stay the night just for his peace of mind

Deuce Spade:

Immediately feels guilty. Especially because his first instinct is to go over there and punch the guy that’s standing too close and getting too touchy

You don’t even know that he’s jealous, because he never tells you

There are signs though

He’s hanging around you more often, getting more touchy, saying “I love you” more often, but other than that you wouldn’t know

He talks to one person about it and that's Jack

He ask Jack for advice on being and jealous and Jack gives pretty solid advice

The only way you’ll actually get him to admit he’s jealous is if you ask him

“Oh… Is it obvious? Sorry, I didn’t want to say anything in case you thought you did something wrong or anything. I was trying to hide it so it didn’t affect you. Am I being too overbearing? I’m sorry, I’ll try to tone it down.”

Please reassure him that he isn’t being overbearing and that you just want to make sure that he knows you love him

He tells you that he’ll work on not being jealous and even ask if you can help since he’s never seen you jealous

He wants to be better for you ♡

Very protective

Leona Kingscholar:

You’re his herbivore, not anyone else's

Someone gets too touchy or too friendly, he will get so protective

God forbid it’s a Savanaclaw student, he will make their life a living hell

He’s also not afraid to approach you two while you’re talking and telling him off

Doesn’t he know who this herbivore belongs to?

“Hey! This herbivore is taken. I’ve made that very obvious. And even if they weren’t, what makes you think they’d like someone like you? There’s a reason you’re single. How about you stop creeping on people and do something productive? Herbivore, you want me to teach this guy a lesson?”

Will actually beat the guy up if you want him to

He’ll also immediately take you to his room to cuddle

Also encourages you to tell off anyone else who acts that way

And if he does catch you telling off a creep, he gets so proud

“That’s my herbivore.”

Ruggie Bucchi:

Doesn’t really mention it, but there are so many signs

He’ll ask you to study more, get donuts, and help him with chores. And he’s a lot clingier than ever

There isn’t a minute of your day that goes by when he’s not with you

And he also discreetly teaches the guy a lesson. By stealing all of his money. He has the guys wallet now

He’s not gonna get all flirty with his partner and not pay the price

“Hey! Y/N! I got more money! You wanna go out? My treat!”

He tells you that the money came from Leona, but it didn’t.

He just sticks closer to you and doesn’t talk about it

He’ll also deny being jealous if you call him out on it

If you talk to the guy he’s jealous of when he’s with you, he’ll shamelessly glare at him

Jack Howl:

Doesn’t get jealous easily

He trust you and that’s not gonna change because some guy gets touchy

He’ll only get jealous if you actively flirt with somebody, but at that point he just settles for leaving (reasonable)

He’s protective though

If a guys flirting with you and you’re visibly uncomfortable, he will get you out of there as fast as possible

Or if you tell him that a certain student is being creepy to you, he’ll keep you away from the guy

“Hey. You’re making them uncomfortable. Leave my partner alone. Y/N, let's go. Do you wanna see this new cacti I’m growing?”

He ends up sticking around you and make sure nobody is creepy or starts making you uncomfortable

He’ll act like your personal security

If a guy gets mad and starts getting physical with either of you, he’ll pick them up and take him away from you

Not jealous, but protective

Azul Ashengrotto:

Oh no

He just locks himself in the VIP room

Azul’s coping mechanism is to hide and he does just that

He sees a guy being all touchy and flirty and he doesn’t stick around. He just runs off and hides

You have to go to him and tell him that you aren’t into that guy

“I know. You are dating me and you love me. I just saw that guy and I thought… I don’t know. Maybe he’d be better for you. He’s more athletic, better looking, he’s… fit. I’m sorry.”

Once he’s out of the Funk© (as Floyd calls it) he will not hold back on the guy

He will get Floyd and Jade to spy on him and get blackmail information. He’ll then force the guy to work for him by using the blackmail and leave him with the worst and hardest job

That guy will learn not to be creepy to his partner again

Jade Leech:

Unhinged

Sometimes he’ll pretend to be jealous just to mess with you and get kisses, but when he’s actually jealous, he’s unhinged

He will blackmail whoever he’s jealous of to do disgusting things. When he goes to the Mostro Lounge, Jade will purposely make his food bad (or tell Floyd to mess it up). He’ll let Floyd have “fun” with him.

He is not going to go easy on this dude. Oh, but you won’t know any of this. You just notice that he seems a little more on edge and if you ask him about it:

“Well, my pearl, I’ve been quite jealous recently. Don’t worry though, I’ve dealt with it. Would you like to go on a hike with me?”

You can try to ask how he “dealt with it” but he won’t elaborate. He just tells you not to worry about it

He has this big grin on his face too, that definitely doesn’t calm you down

He does drag you on a hike with him. Mainly to get your mind off of what he might’ve done and also to get more mushrooms for his terrariums

Floyd Leech:

Oh no… Oh No. OH NO!

He gets unhinged in a more physical way

He is not afraid to approach you and get the guy to leave you alone. In a forceful way

He's so angry and violent. In a word, he’s very Floyd. Which checks out

“HEY! Who do you think you’re flirting with? That’s my shrimpy! Are you asking to get squeezed? Aha, I’ll give you a ten second head start.”

He’ll chase the guy around the school for a good while. To terrorize him, he’ll let the guy stay ahead of him, but once he starts slowing down he’ll get him

Oh, but you won’t get mercy either

He finds you after school and cuddles you for hours

He’s half-heartedly squeezing you with his head buried in your chest and grumbling about you being cruel

He’ll tell you how mean you are letting him get all jealous and then not doing anything to make him feel better

The cuddle’s don't count either. He wants kisses. A LOT of kisses.

Doesn’t get jealous

Kalim Al-Asim:

Ever

Why would he need to be jealous? He trust you

He sees a guy flirting with you and doesn’t feel even a little worried

At the end of the day, he’s the one dating you, he’s the one kissing you, he’s the one who gets all your love and affection and that’s what matters

Now, if you want him to step in and help you he will

You have to tell him if someone makes you uncomfortable and if he sees that person talking to you, he’ll step in

“Excuse me, they’re taken. I’m their boyfriend. Sorry, but I need them for something. Come on, Y/N, I need your help setting up for a party this weekend.”

The excuse he used to get you out of their wasn’t even a lie

He genuinely needs help setting up for a party

Whenever he gets you out of uncomfortable situations, he never lies about needing you. He needs your opinion on everything. The food for a banquet, the decorations for a party, his drumming skills, everything.

Jamil Viper:

What? Him? Jealous? Yes

You love him and want him. He’s not letting someone take you.

He’s tries to be lowkey about it though

He’ll interrupt every conversation you have with the guy, claiming that he needs you for something and then saying he just wanted to spend time with you

He’ll invite you to study more or help him with his chores

He’s not above pulling you away from the guy either

“Hey. I need them. Y/N, can you come with me?”

He literally just keeps you away from the guys he’s jealous

He tries to hide it, but then eventually just ends up cuddling you forever

He ends up falling asleep

And when you tell him he’s more clingy than usual, he denies it (like a liar)

Another guy that doesn’t get jealous

Vil Schoenheit:

He’s confident in himself

Why would you leave him for any of the potatoes around this school? Nobody could be as great as he is

He knows he has no reason to worry

At least, that’s what he says, until…

He sees you talking to Neige

Neige isn’t flirting or anything, he’s just being his normal self, but Vil still get jealous

The longer you talk to him the more the jealousy grows. He doesn’t say anything while Neige’s there but when Neige’s gone

“Potato. I hate to admit this, but I've found that I’m jealous. Perhaps you could help get rid of this ugly feeling. Would you like to go out for dinner?”

He spends the rest of the day with you. He’ll just randomly kiss you and gets happy when you randomly kiss him

And at the dinner, he pulls a bouquet out of thin air

You think he planned this the day prior. After all, he was with you all day, and you didn’t see him buy a bouquet

Little do you know, he ordered them while you were distracted and had Rook deliver them to him just before he entered the restaurant

Rook Hunt:

Rook, believe it or not, isn’t jealous

He is, however, territorial

If someone ends up standing too close to you, they will end up with an arrow grazing by them, forcing them to back up

He doesn’t acknowledge it at all

To him it’s just another day

You ask him about it and he acts confused

“What do you mean? I was just making sure they learned personal space, mon chéri. I need to make sure no one thinks to touch what's mine.”

He goes on a whole rant about boundaries and mentions something about marking???

He keeps say french in the middle of his speech and you end up getting lost

The main point of his speech is that he doesn’t want anyone trying anything funny with you since your his

Weirdo

Epel Felmier:

Oh man…

Epel already has a bit of a fragile ego from always being seen as delicate and girly, so when someone tries to make a move on you…

He immediately thinks that they don’t think he can protect and provide for you

He assumes that they don’t think he’s man enough to keep someone safe and provide for them and he is not at all happy about it.

“HEY! Git yer hands off ma partner, ya creep. Ya think ah can’t provide for ‘em ‘cause ah’m small, ey? How bout we head outside and ah teach how a real man fights!?”

That guy wasn’t too sure what Epel said, but the aggressiveness made him leave you alone

Epel ends up flexing asking if you saw how good he was at protecting you

He then takes you to his spell drive practice to impress you more

He also tells you to tell him if anybody is creepy like that again

Let's get one thing straight, he didn’t see anything physically

Idia Shroud:

He was watching the cameras he installed in the sc- I mean, no, what cameras?

He saw this guy standing way too close and you were obviously uncomfortable and trying to back up

And just because he can’t go outside, doesn’t mean he can’t stop this guy and put him in his place

He has Ortho, after all. And he’s more than happy to protect his best friend

“Hey. You need to back up. They’re taken by my big brother. I suggest you leave them alone unless you want to experience my laser eyes first hand.”

Ortho than escorts you to Ignihyde to make sure that creep doesn’t try to approach you again

Idia pretends he wasn’t jealous while clinging onto you like his life depends on it

He’ll swear on his life that he wasn’t jealous and yet he refuses to swear on Hero’s Dawn: A Rogue's Journey. Strange

Malleus doesn’t realize that someone flirting with you at first

Malleus Draconia:

Only when Lilia tells him does he realize

He gets all huffy about it, but then remembers that he can smite the person with lightning

However, when he gets there, Sebek’s already there telling this person off

How dare they think they can treat this human better than the next king of Briar Valley! Are they dumb?

Malleus has to stop him from hurting the person and then sweeps you away

“My dear, that person didn’t put their filthy hands on you, did they? I must admit, when Lilia  told me that they were flirting with you, I felt… Jealous. I’m glad to know that Sebek’s looking out for you.”

Sebek only thought it was an insult to Malleus, but maybe don’t tell him that.

He tries his best to be around and recognize flirting better, but it doesn’t really work

Lilia tries to teach him the differences between friendliness and flirting, but he doesn’t get it

He tries though, and that’s what matters

Lilia Vanrouge:

Oh no

No mercy for this poor soul who thought of flirting with you

He’s lowkey a little unhinged, but doesn’t let it show

In his mind, he’s thinking about settling this with a good old fashioned duel, and on the outside, he’s smiling politely

He does feel a little smug. He already knew you were the hottest student on campus, but this further cements that

“Oho? I understand why you would be interested in them, they are the greatest after all. However, they are taken. By me. Say, if you’re so intent on winning their heart, why don’t you duel me for it.”

He doesn’t end up fighting that person because he’s powerful enough to accidentally kill them, but he definitely considered it for a second

Just a second

And then he takes you to his room to play video games well past midnight

Silver Vanrouge:

Doesn’t get jealous for two reasons

1. He can’t tell the difference between being friendly and flirting and

2. He trusts you

Even if someone tells him that it’s flirting he won’t do anything because he trust you not to leave him

He’ll only take action if you tell him someone is making you uncomfortable

He asks for a name and/or description of the person and confront them about it

“My partner told me that you flirting with them has made them uncomfortable. Please stop. If you continue to harass them and make them uncomfortable, I won’t hesitate to take matters into my own hands. So, please leave them alone so this situation doesn’t escalate.”

After a few days, he asks if that guy left you alone and is satisfied when you say yes

He’ll do anything to make you feel safe and happy

Sebek Zigvolt:

It takes him a few minutes to realize someones flirting with you, but when he does he gets pissed

Who do they think they are?

That’s his human!

He’s insulted, offended, appalled, stunned, another word

This shall not stand

“How dare you say such things to MY human? Do you know who I am? I’m a loyal attendant of my liege, Prince Malleus Draconia! How dare you think of saying such things to MY human! You are a despicable person and I detest you!”

He meant that with his whole heart

He stays with you the whole day and makes sure that no more creeps try to creep on you

ᥫ᭡ TAKING CARE OF THEM WHEN THEY’RE SICK / Ayato, Childe, Diluc, Jing Yuan, Dr. Ratio, Aventurine

content: fluff / gender neutral reader / reverse comfort / established relationship / reader doesn’t play around / Diluc ends up drunk / suggestive in Aventurine’s part

Since flu season is raging in my country (got to me too), I felt inclined to write this lol.

Ayato

You were working on documents in your own office, dealing with typical Yashiro commission stuff. It was Thoma who interrupted you, walking into the door with a worried look, making you wonder what happened.

“Thoma, what is it?” you asked, setting a brush on the table.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, it’s… Lord Ayato,” he started nervously, knowing the thing he’ll mention will provoke your temper you occasionally had with your husband—albeit rightfully. “He’s sick, but… he’s refusing to let me take care of him, saying he can work in this state.”

“Is that so?” you asked with a click of a tongue. “And I assume you want me to take care of him?”

Thoma nodded hesitantly. He didn’t want to interrupt your work, but sometimes only you were able to make Ayato listen. “Of course he’d be stubborn…” you sighed, and stood up. As you passed by Thoma when leaving the office, he quickly moved aside to give you space to walk, as if afraid of getting in the way of your anger.

When you finally reached your chambers, storming into a room you both shared, you looked at your husband sitting on the futon in displeasure. You could see how awful he looked, all pale, with dark eye circles, hair so messy it doesn’t feel like proper him—yet this man had an audacity to read through documents.

He turned to look at you, something like annoyance flashed his face, yet it quickly died when he noticed your slight anger. Only you had a way to make a man like him nervous—he knew once you set your mind on something he’s not getting out of this and he did value your opinion.

“Why aren’t you resting?” you asked with a hand on your hip.

“Because I’m not as sick as they say. A mere cold. I can’t abandon my work,” he argued, all stubborn sounding.

You scoffed, “Work? Don’t you see your document is upside down?”

He looked at the paper, now hilariously dumbed as he noticed you were right. “Well—”

“No,” you interjected bluntly and took away his documents after kneeling down next to him he tried to catch but even his hand was too weak and fell downward. “If you can’t read these you won’t be able to get any work done anyway.”

You then pressed your palm against his shoulder, making him lay down. Ayato looked at you with annoyance making its return, almost like a spoiled child who couldn’t get his way; but eventually, didn’t try to get up—he knew you were more stubborn than him and with you he was a weak man in the end. “I don’t need to be coddled.”

“Can’t call it coddling when you can’t even take care of yourself in the first place,” you said sharply, making him wince. A bucket of water Thoma left behind, you wet a towel with its contents. Brushing his hair off of forehead back, you placed a cold towel on his head.

Ayato shivered from the coldness, but relaxed when it felt better against his slight fever. He looked at you with a frown again, almost like a puppy trying to scare you off so he’s given a chance to work again… but seeing your face so focused and sort of worried after your initial anger has passed, he suddenly felt fuzzy. His spouse was taking care of him, all nice for him, they were there, there was no more work… He had all of your attention and couldn’t be any more satisfied.

He melted when your delicate hands cleaned his chest under his yukata, so cooling and soothing to his aches and discomforts. When you brushed his hair with a comb, he no longer cared about work. His scalp was pleasured and you were treating him like someone you loved. He was being reassured that he needed to do none for once.

“You know, darling…” Ayato said, making his voice even weaker than it was. “I think my back hurts. Can you give me a massage?” He coughed, and he looked so vulnerable. Yes, he was making his state to appear even worse—anything to receive your additional care and affection. At this point he thought you could baby him all you want, grown man or not.

Noticing his intensions was easy for you. However, you’d rather deal with spoiled Ayato than a stubborn one. “As long as you take medicine first.”

“Deal. But I’m afraid you’ll have to feed it to me,” he said with overly worn eyes, looking so vulnerable.

How could you say no to these begging eyes? You had him wrapped around your finger, but it was mutual.

Childe

When Childe stumbled inside your shared house looking all tired, you didn’t think much of it—there was just an assumption it’s nothing but exhaustion bothering him after the whole day of work. It was only when he fell against your body after approaching you (or attempting to) in the hallway of the wooden house, that you realized something was off.

“Ajax?” you asked with a worried tone, trying to ignore the fact his wet clothes from the Snezhnayan outside were still not taken off and wetting both you and the floor. He looked rather incoherent to you. “What’s wrong?” You put a head on his forehead, but it was difficult to tell if he had a fever after being out in a cold weather.

“Sick… can darling mine make me a soup…” this was all he managed to murmur. That confirmed your suspicions, and you sighed. Someone so physically strong, surviving the worst injuries—you didn’t think he’d fall a victim to a simple infection. You were surprised he even managed to find his way back when he seemed out of it.

Apparently he knew where home was.

You held him closely when he buried his face in your neck, speaking incoherently; all desperate for your warmth and comfort. His eyes were closed and his brain foggy but he’d recognize you every time. “Your soup the best…” You would have been flattered by the compliment if it wasn’t for him being in a rather terrible condition.

“Yes, I’ll make you soup,” you said reassuringly and tried to help him reach the bedroom. As you were taking off his clothes and wiping him with towel on bed, Childe couldn’t stop reaching his hands towards in search of your body to be assured you’re still there. Who would have thought he’d be so clingy and vulnerable… you found him rather cute in this state, despite your concerns.

You had to ignore his whine when leaving the bedroom to prepare soup, instead hoping he’ll catch a short nap meanwhile.

You froze when you returned. He was sleeping on his back, hands crossed together, that you had to do a double check to see if he’s still alive—with how pale he was and the position, he looked like a man ready to be a put in the coffin. “A-ajax?” you called out.

Ajax murmured something incoherent and opened his eyes drowsily. You sighed in relief, realizing how silly your concern was.

“Soup?” he asked hopefully, his eyes barely open. “Yeah, soup,” you laughed, amused by him being so obsessed with the soup.

You placed the bowl on the bedside table and sat down on the bed next to him. “Up you go.” You helped him sit up and his head automatically fell onto your shoulder, clinging and looking for all you and the warmth he could get. “Mm… my darling is here…”

You should have been mad at him for putting himself in this state, yet it was hard with how endearing your lover was behaving; all unable to rest easy if you’re not here.

With bowl in your hands, you began to spoonfeed him, ensuring you went slowly enough. You made him sigh in relief—it was the familiar warmth of favorite soup but also you that made him feel at peace in his delirious state.

After setting a dish aside, you were planning to get up to find medicine, only to be stopped by Childe who suddenly had enough strength to tackle you down and hold tightly onto you. You tried to free yourself but to no avail.

“No… let me…” he murmured, his arms wrapped around you with his head on your chest.

You will be stuck here for a while.

Diluc

When you’ve returned from the city, carrying a basket with all the stuff you bought for sick Diluc, you didn’t expect an ongoing panic within the winery.

Two maids were standing in the corner, whispering to each other nervously, Adelinde was walking around in circles as if waiting for you, and Elzer was drumming his fingers against the desk in anticipation.

“What’s up?” When Adelinde saw you, she immediately approached you.

“Bad news. Master Diluc is drunk,” she said with worry, dumping the surprising news on you right away.

You couldn’t understand why Diluc would be drunk, considering he avoided drinking, but you knew it was bad terrible news. He was a whole lightweight drinker and could be knocked out for days after a smaller amount, like he had done at the banquet with Snezhnayan merchants after drinking a shot of fire-water back then. “But… how would this happen?” You were ready to run upstairs to check up on him.

“The medicine… the syrup… it had a small amount of alcohol in it,” Adelinde informed, making you dumbfounded. You knew these had some contains, but not enough to get drunk! Then again, Diluc’s sensitivity to alcohol was ridiculous…

You shook your head, having made peace with the fact it’s been done. “How bad is it?”

Adelinde fell silent for few seconds, wondering how to deliver the news to you. “Well… he’s been out of character. He keeps asking for you and being all childish about you not being there. Could you…”

You nodded, knowing Diluc won’t stop causing chaos if he doesn’t see you here. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it, Adelinde. Can you ask a cook to prepare some light meal for him?”

“Of course.”

As Adelinde watched you go, she had to stifle a laughter. She knew her master will be plenty of embarrassed once he sobers and finds about his mischief he won’t even remember.

As you entered the bedroom, you were surprised to see Diluc… sniffling. Was he crying just because you weren’t there? Such thing pulled at your heartstrings; despite it being a shocking yet hilarious sight—he usually bottled up everything. He was lying in bed, his face buried in pillows as he pathetically rested on his side.

“Diluc?” you called out to him, your voice quiet. You got an immediate response, him quickly sitting up. “M-my love?” he looked at you and suddenly he was all smiley. “You’re back! I thought you left me alone,” his speech was all slurred. It was still unbelievable just a tiny percentage of alcohol could get him drunk.

You shook yourself out of your surprised stupor and approached him, sitting down on the edge of the bed with burgundy sheets. “No, of course I wouldn’t leave you,” you reassured, and placed the basket nearby.

Diluc (very clumsily) crawled on bed, before his head ended up on your lap, where he buried his face. His hair was all messy, no longer tied and clearly unbrushed from all the struggle and whining. “I was so lonely…” he muttered.

“Oh really?” you asked softly, albeit teasingly, as you were getting somewhat amused. He’ll be fine and you knew it, he just needed to sober up. When you started brushing his hair with your fingers, he sighed like a content cat.

“So much… I love you…” he murmured against your legs and was falling asleep again. Your heart fluttered at his drunk yet honest words, and you allowed him to rest like this.

“Silly Diluc… you’ll be so embarrassed tomorrow,” you said to yourself and smiled.

Jing Yuan

As much as you loved Jing Yuan, you were starting to lose your mind when you had to take care of his sick-self. They kicked him out of his office after he’s been coughing the entire day. He might be a specimen of immortal race, but still managed to get sick.

The issue? He wouldn’t let you go for even a second. You want to use bathroom, prepare his medicine or grab food from the kitchen—he wouldn’t let you get up as he was forcing you down on bed to cling to you. He’s been clingy everyday but this was a new level of suffocating.

“Jing Yuan!” you scolded for what felt like a thousandth time, “You’re going to get me sick if you leech off of me like this!”

You got a whine in response, his pitiful looking face burying itself in your chest. “But sweetheart… I’m so sick, you should be there for your husband.” He coughed for emphasis—a gesture slightly manipulative, but one you were immune against. You knew better than to give in to his demands; refusing to end up infected. While he was gentle with you, he could be plenty of selfish as well, especially when it came to the person he wanted to spend the most time with.

“I won’t be there for you if I get sick too!” you argued. He looked up at you, his face slightly confused for moment (fever effect) only for realization to appear on his face. Yet it was ruined a moment later, his voice all sly, “That’s okay. It’ll mean you’ll have no choice but to rest with me.” He put his head on your chest again.

“What? Do you wish me misery? Are you this selfish, Jing Yuan?” You tried to pull away from him but he was not letting you go—even when sick, he had enough strength you wondered if he’s even that affected by flu. “Come on, I’m not selfish, I just can’t get better without you…” he pouted. “And if I get healthy first, it’d mean I have a chance to take care of you—”

His voice was cut off as you put a hand on his face, not willing to hear this nonsense anymore. Jing Yuan was about to brag about how much he’d love to have you all vulnerable and dependent on him, yet you were aware it wasn’t worth getting sick. “Darling, can’t breathe—” he protested with a muffled voice, and you realized if his nose was stuffy he can’t use his mouth to breathe. You let go of his face with a sigh, feeling almost guilty.

“Why do you have to be such a child when sick, huh?” you asked, sounding resigned. “I’m not childish, I just know that I need you. You’re the only thing that can help this poor man.”

In the end, you two found a compromise—you let him cling to you as long as he wears a mask. Jing Yuan felt like a muzzled dog when he was unable to smooch you, but it was better than nothing.

Dr. Ratio

Taking care of sick Veritas was easier than it should have been. This man simply knew what he needed, and your only job was to give him the required tools. He didn’t need to seek out a doctor either—with all the degrees he had he managed to swiftly diagnose himself and tell you what medication you needed to acquire.

But something was missing. It felt robotic to just hand him things he needed instead of actually taking care of him. You have given him a blanket, a water, a dinner, his pills; you adjusted his pillow—but what about some TLC?

Veritas asked you to stay away from the guest bedroom where he mercifully located himself at to not get you sick, however, you suddenly felt separated from him and experienced an odd need to watch over him, no matter how much you knew he got this. That’s why you were marching through the corridor to see him.

Knocking on the door, you heard no response, therefore decided to enter the room. You were met with a sight of Veritas sleeping peacefully—excluding a flush of his pale skin and sweaty surface. You were well aware you were risking getting sick yourself, but told yourself your immune system was better than some flu—hence you approached his bed, sitting on the edge. Your hand gently brushed his fringe back, exposing his forehead you decided to kiss.

Withdrawing, amber eyes were staring at you, almost scoldingly. You gasped as you felt startled. “Were you pretending to be asleep?!” you immediately accused, even if you got caught. A teasing smile is what you got in return.

“You’re quite predictable, dear. I heard you shuffling around my room for a while. I also have suspected you’d miss me eventually… and it doesn’t take a genius like me to guess.”

“Fine…” you said resigned and sat down on the edge of the bed, one with sheets looking all organized even when he was ill.

Veritas sighed, his voice somewhat softer, “You’re a silly one. Do you genuinely want to end up in the same state? It’d be counterproductive to take care of me just to end up with a virus yourself.”

“Of course not…” you scoffed. “It’s just… I don’t want you to suffer alone.”

“Suffer? That’s a rather dramatic statement,” he teased. “Are you that worried for me? Or were you the one feeling lonely?”

He got you there. “What if I was to say ‘both’?” you murmured almost shyly, receiving an amused chuckle in return. “You should know you’re not neglectful just because I can do everything on my own… but perhaps I can help you with your ‘separation anxiety’.”

“Now you’re the one being overdramatic, calling it separation anxiety,” you said, feigning annoyance. “But I’m listening.”

“You could help me bathe, wash my back and hair if my arms may be too exhausted. As long as I avoid coughing at you, you should be fine,” he proposed. The idea sounded good enough, as you’d be able to both help him and be near him… not to mention you could touch his godly physique.

Aventurine

Being busy watching TV, you were surprised hearing Aventurine enter your shared penthouse much earlier than usual. Even the sound of him undressing and moving around in hallway sounded more messy than his typical confident body language.

When you saw him enter living room, his face all happy at the sight of you, you couldn’t help but ask, “Welcome back. How did they let you leave so quickly?”

He smirked. “They had to kick me out.” Aventurine enjoyed the shock and slight annoyance on your face. Yeah, maybe he should feel ashamed, but he loved any reaction from you as long as no real boundaries were crossed—simply because he loved seeking attention from his favorite person.

“What did you do again?” you asked with narrowed eyes.

“Again? How cruel of you to assume it’s me who’s the problem!” he feigned disappointment and threw himself on the gigantic couch, right next to you. His arm rested behind your head, all comfortable.

“Come on,” you said more seriously. You knew him well. Maybe too well.

“I’m saying the truth, baby. I didn’t do anything this time. They forced me to leave because I’m sick. Didn’t want me to get everyone else sick too.”

That changed everything. “Sick?” He tried to not feel all cocky when he heard your voice suddenly sound worried. The fact that you cared so much about him made him feel all warm yet also foolish. “But you don’t really look sick…” For a moment you had a doubt but it was forgotten when you placed your hand on his forehead.

“Yeah. I had makeup applied for photos. I guess our makeup artist did a pretty good job,” he chuckled.

“Tsk, you sound too nonchalant about this. I don’t know how you can still walk when you’re burning with fever! Let’s go,” you said all serious, making him smile. However, he didn’t protest when you helped him get up. He’d get all the attention his dear would give him, even if he felt undeserving of your kindness sometimes. He’ll make sure to make it up to you later, even if it was a normal thing for someone to take care of their partner. He loves to spoil you regardless.

When you helped him change into more comfortable clothes, remove his makeup and lay down on his grey sheets, you felt him pull you down with him, his arms iron around your waist. He laughed at your startled yelp.

With you on top of him he was quick to try to take advantage of the position, his lips nearing yours with eagerness in his eyes. You didn’t let him win—your hand quickly clamped his mouth. “What do you think you’re doing, Aventurine?” you said somewhat sternly.

Aventurine licked your palm to tickle you as a way of scaring your hand off. “Come on, baby,” he teased, his voice clear as you had to take your hand off. “I missed you. Don’t you want me too?”

“It’s not about that! You’re supposed to be resting,” you scolded, making him sigh at your ‘tender’ care. You couldn’t believe he still had energy to screw around.

“I’m not that sick. At least not enough to not have so fun. I guess I find you attractive no matter how I feel.”

While his words flattered you, you were able to tell the consequences. “That’s very kind of you. I still don’t want to get sick,” you added bluntly.

Aventurine, “Fine, fine…” He finally let you go, feeling disappointed when you sat up on the bed.

When you helped him take some medicine soon after, he finally felt tired enough to find sleep enticing.

“Can I at least hold your hand? Since I don’t want to get you sick too,” he asked, almost bashfully at the vulnerable request.

“…Yeah.” You can wash your hand afterwards. For now, you’ll comfort him. That’s why your warm hand enveloped his.

He slept like a baby that evening.

In Your Defense [PT - 4 - Diasomnia]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi? AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Happy late V-Day :)

Malleus is forever amused at the many holidays humans entertain. They're certainly festive and unique. This one relies on red, pink, white, and sweets! He's absolutely fascinated by the sheer amount of heart-shaped items and clever cards but the idea of so many sweets turns his stomach a bit.

Just a bit.

The almost-cloying smell of sugar hits his nose and it's nearly enough to make him leave the shop. He reminds himself that he's not required to eat the sweets nor get anything massive and that does well enough to settle his stomach. He stoops to enter, green eyes turned skyward lest he tangle himself in the cute, frilly banners strung back and forth across the store. Sparkly pink pens draw his attention, the tops decorated with hearts, and he wonders if his grandmother would be interested in it.

Perhaps the heart-shaped trinket box next to it? She's always looking for things to sort and contain her hoard. He picks the deepest one, a great red heart, and puts it in his basket along with the pen.

He meanders through the aisles, picking up an obnoxiously adorable pillow for Lilia. It's meant to look like an envelope sealed with a heart sticker and would do well for his back on gaming nights (which are most nights). Silver and Sebek are much harder to buy for, as they're quite practical and not really prone to whimsy like Lilia. Malleus recalls Lilia trying to broaden Sebek's...people skills...and sets his basket between his feet as he peruses the books. Some of the titles are simple and honest but he thinks Sebek would be hurt if he opened How to Make Friends so he opts for Success in Every Situation.

For Silver, who has hobbies but is always wondering how to incorporate things into training exercises, he picks up a crocheting kit and an origami practice book. Both of these things rely on manual dexterity and patience, the perfect compliments to swordsmanship! Satisfied, Malleus rejoins the line. He's distracted, untangling a heart-shaped hanger with curly gold ribbon when he hears it.

He can't UNHEAR it! Not with his fae ears.

How much do you cost? Malleus clucks his tongue in disapproval, careful not to move his feet lest the magic push down into the shop floor and start to splinter it. Because it needs to go somewhere, he's not surprised that it radiates off of him and starts shaking the shelves. Glimpses of light peeking through slats in the front of the shop are snuffed out by darkness as thunder roars in the distance. The shop lights flicker and buzz as if to protest the conversation on his behalf.

The shop goes deathly quiet. It's enough for him to reign in his magic, that cretin's voice no longer grating on his ears. Malleus swallows down the smoke tickling his throat and walks calmly to the front. His shoes echo quietly but pointedly on the floor. He can see the cretin shrinking with every step and it has nothing to do with the fact that he towers over him.

"Be careful asking the cost of things, human," Malleus looks down at the man, "you may find yourself in a situation where the cost is too steep and the unwillingness to pay leaves you worse off than what you started. So ask yourself: what are you willing to pay? Is the price worth it?"

"No," he whispers in the absolute terror Malleus is all too familiar with. "No, it's not."

You were the first one to not look at him in such a way, and the realization hits him when he locks eyes with you. Yes, the man is running--tripping--out of the store but you look glowing and so happy to see him! His heart swells immeasurably in his chest. Fatally, he fears on occasion.

The lights flicker back to life in the shop, sun caressing the outside once more. Malleus apologizes to the people he cut in front of, gesturing for them to resume natural order but they refuse. He thanks them and hands you his basket. Before you can scan anything, Sam slides in to finish the transaction. "After I check out these lovely imps I'm going to close down for a bit and do inventory, check some things. You should grab what you were looking at earlier!"

You give him a curious look but take the opportunity. Sam probably didn't want to say he was worried about his freezers and fridges after that little stunt. Malleus' magic tends to cast a small effect field that wears off when he's not around. You're careful to hide the ice cream cake from Malleus, glad Sam has charmed bags for cold goods.

"Might I interest you in coming to Diasomnia for the holiday, Child of Man?" Malleus tips his head as he walks out the door. "We've had great success keeping Lilia out of the kitchen this time. He's not fond of marshmallows, you see."

"Sounds interesting! I'd love to! I have something to share, anyways."

"As do we!" Malleus takes your hand and teleports you to Diasomnia where you walk into a small feast catered by various places in town. Diasomnia students were picking and conversating. Malleus guides you to the tea room where there five places set. Lilia, Sebek, and Silver had made their plates and a pot of tea. Malleus pulls out your chair for you and takes your plate and his, not giving you time to make your own.

By the time he returns you've set out the heart-shaped ice cream cake.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Malleus!"

"Quite." he smiles down at you, careful to keep his hair from the food as he sets the plate down carefully.

----

Lilia is a bit put out that Valentine's Day doesn't really have any funny gag items like the April fool's day Sebek and Silver loathe. Surely there must be something, right? He can't stop his nose from turning up at the airy sweetness of marshmallows, finding them stuffed damn near everywhere in the store. Marshmallows have no place in his basket but crunchy suckers and candy hearts do. He giggles to himself as he tries on a pair of heart glasses and finds they actually cut the light quite well.

Super cute glasses for super cute him, right?

He gets Silver a cute stuffed squirrel holding a little sign saying 'NUTS ABOUT YOU!' and starts rooting around for something dragon related for Malleus. Lilia's forced to settle for a dinosaur card that says 'I love you THIS BIG! (My arms are short, okay?)' on the inside. Normally he'd get Malleus an ice cream treat but he found the secret stash and doesn't think Queen Maleficia would want him to have too much. Sebek is hard to buy for, as unyielding as Baur, but Lilia thinks a book of exercise challenges will keep him occupied.

Someone had stuffed a heart-speckled, tinsel-rimmed noisemaker near the book and he couldn't be more delighted. Lilia finds a Valentine's-themed confetti popper near fake mailboxes a few aisles over. Sadly, it's the only one of its kind. He consoles himself with a bottle of tomato juice and gets in line.

"How much do you cost? Come now, boy!" Lilia wants to bite his own tongue for saying 'boy' in public like he's old. He's not even 700 yet! Not very cute of him. "Why worry about the price when you don't even have your wallet?" he's waiving said wallet in the man's face.

Being an ex-general, it was nothing to pick his pocket. A mix of genuine skill and fae speed, naturally. Maybe a little magic to get him up to the front of the line. "H-Hey! Give that back!" the guy tries to grab it and Lilia casually flicks it back and forth out of reach.

Neither fast nor smart, this one. Sad.

"I'll trade you," Lilia offers with a sweet smile that belies the fact that he's not playing. "You leave this innocent cashier alone and you get your wallet back. Sounds good, yes?"

The man tries to grab it several more times before Lilia flicks it halfway across the store. It lands about six aisles over. Predictably, the whelp goes to get it.

"Next in line, please!" you call out, the two of you grinning at each other.

---

Silver knows he shouldn't enable his father's late-night gaming but when it comes to Lilia, he doesn't have a lot of ideas. The drinks are limited edition, colorful, and somewhat dessert-y. They claim to have vitamins and zero marshmallows so Silver thinks a can or two won't hurt. He picks up a few bags of popcorn and some 'mystery box' style candy snacks. Trying to guess the flavor of the jelly beans and fruit bars was sure to please Lilia's...unique palette.

Sebek's gift was a gamble; the artwork on the Fae and Folklore was absolutely gorgeous--gilded in gold and watercolor--but he didn't know if the contents would turn into a rant about humans and their inaccuracies. He decided he was willing to take the risk. Sebek was an avid reader and it might give Malleus a moment of reprieve (even though he didn't mind).

He'd really only come into Sam's for those two; he couldn't shop for Sebek while out in town with him and there were practically no energy drinks to speak of. Apparently online ordering was popular and someone had bought up quite a few. Malleus' gift was tucked away in Diasomnia because Silver was still on the fence about giving it to him. It was meant for children but you were supposed to be able to dig up your own bones and fossils like you were excavating.

It's the thought that counts, right?

Bags of mixed nuts catch his eye and he stops to grab a few. He meant to get some when he bought birdseed in town but it slipped his mind. Silver waits patiently in line, nearly lulled to sleep when the chatter melted into background noise.

"How much do you cost?"

He startles himself awake. That voice was so loud and begging for attention! Begging to be funny. Dredges of sleepiness disappeared with every blink; Silver's brow furrowed when lines upon lines of price stickers came into view. Who the hell was asking about the price of something when it was posted all over the store?! Sam was quite diligent in that; he would never leave you guessing!

Silver finds himself very awake when he realizes you're being accosted by this nonsense. He doesn't know if you look more mad or upset but the guy is clearly waiting for you to feed into something you don't want. Something in him burns and Silver finds himself clutching the handle of the basket so hard it almost cracks.

He stomps up to the man, his aurora borealis eyes boring holes into him. "Considering how you'll pay for the lack of consideration and insolence?" Silver asks him. He sets the basket down and crosses his arms.

He's prepared to roll up his sleeves and start swinging. Lilia would approve, he's sure.

"Lack of consideration?" the guy guffaws, "What do you mean--"

"Look around you! Who likes this? Who wants this? They don't!" Silver jerks his head to you, "And they don't!" he throws an arm out to the people behind him. The guy starts to look at different faces and Silver knows when his shoulders slump, he's won. Satisfied but still a little pissed, Silver goes to the back of the line and watches the man like a hawk to make sure he leaves.

"My hero!" you tease when he finally makes it up to you. Silver can only blush.

-----

Sebek didn't really see the point in Valentine's Day because you don't need a dedicated day to care for people. You also don't need to tell them, just show them! He's not quite disgusted at the amount of candy and sweets he sees but he doesn't know how to feel about it. It reminds him of all the times his father gave him candy and sweets unprompted. He didn't not appreciate it but he thought it was a little underhanded that his father was a dentist handing out sweets.

Who wants soft things, anyways? They need to make crunchy Valentine's candy! He finds candy bracelets and his mouth waters a little, imagining the sweetness and the crunch. It was about the only tolerable thing in this store. The rest of it was an infestation of pink and red and cute.

Gross.

He weeds through bad puns and tacky cards until he finds one for his mother and father. Not too sappy but not cold, either. Sufficient. The attempt to find Malleus a decent, non-bedazzled pen was almost futile but he thinks his Lord will like it for letters to Queen Maleficia. Grandfather Baur gets snacks these humans might find a little tough but the crocodilian fae will like the chew and challenge.

Silver was last on his list. Sebek tried to control the disgust on his face as he looked at all manner of pillows---fluffy ones, pink ones, fuzzy ones, soft wispy ones, ones with happy faces on them--on the aisle. Against his better judgement, he began stretching and squeezing them. Being half fae, it was drilled into him not to be a poor gift-giver.

And if he had to stand near pink, fluffy, glittery pillows he wasn't going to half-ass this. As he flipped them and patted them, Sebek was sorely wishing he could've found something while he was in town. Lilia and Malleus came so easily!

WHY MUST SILVER BE A PAIN? DUMB HUMAN!

You know you don't mean that, Sebek thought to himself, frowning a bit as he tested what must've been the twentieth pillow. Confident with his choice but disappointed that it was a pink cloud pillow, he tries not to sulk as he gets in line. He snaps to alertness when he hears the idiot human ask how much do you cost.

He can hear you trying to steer the conversation back to checking out and the guy says 'yeah, I'm checking something out' and Sebek is done.

"YOU ARE INTOLERABLE AND THAT IS INAPPROPRIATE!" he shouts at the man, pointing a finger at him.

There is a pause. The man looks down at his basket. "I'm not taking that from a guy with a pink pillow." he snorts.

Something in Sebek snaps. He takes said pink pillow and closes the space before the guy can put his hands up.

"SAM! SAM?" you call out as feathers explode and start raining everywhere. IT'S A PILLOW!

SAM DOESN'T BUY CHEAP STUFF! HOW DID IT BUST?!

You watch as Sebek effortlessly dodges every sloppy punch, pillow bunched angrily in his fist. The guy's already been smacked in the face, the stomach, just about everywhere one could think to aim a pillow. It lands solidly and you're not sure if it's because of the feathers bunched in what's left of the pillow or how hard Sebek is swinging. All of a sudden, the pillow is abandoned and they're grappling.

Sebek has the upper hand in this, too. It's not really a contest when he can wrap around him, slip under him, and fold him up like a lawn chair. He lets the guy flail in his arms, knees pinned to his chest, and drops him unceremoniously. The guy tries to take Sebek down at the knees and he's unfazed. Sebek goes dead weight on the man, falling unapologetically and knocking the air out of him.

The man is stunned and Sebek picks him up in one arm like a limp toddler. He's muttering curses all the way to the door, lobbing the man out like a sack of potatoes. No one moves as he disappears between the shelf and reemerges with a new pink cloud pillow.

Sam walks out to the sight of Sebek AND HIS FLOOR absolutely LITTERED with feathers. Surprisingly, he's not angry. Sebek is allowed to check out on the condition that he helps you sweep. It wasn't your fault, of course, but you're currently on the clock. He waits to the side, cheeks dusted pink, until you hand him a broom.

"Thanks for that," you smile.

"Say nothing, human!" Sebek stares at the floor, sweeping so hard he cracks the broom handle. Sam just sighs and gets another one from the back.

In Your Defense [PT 3 - Ignihyde]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

**Need to go to bed for work tomorrow so Diasomnia will be on my next day off. Can't stay up long enough to squeeze it in**

If there was one thing Idia hated, it was going out in public. He hated how the sun burned his eyes, all the bugs flying around, the way people looked at his hair, and almost had a heart attack at the idea that he'd have to talk to people.

Major bummer. 0/10, don't recommend.

But he'd suck it up and soldier on because the call of sweets was too tempting to resist. The trek to Sam's isn't the longest from Ignihyde but it's enough to make him pace himself.

Yeah, he's not really an outside person. Or a physical activity person outside of dancing to Premo or working on his projects.

He briefly wonders if Ortho put Sam up to this as he finds his second wind and ascends the hill. Who has a bomb sweets sale and DOESN'T ALLOW ONLINE PURCHASES?! WHY WERE THE DISCOUNTS IN-PERSON ONLY?

Idia breaths a sigh of relief and fixes his hoodie before mustering up his courage and opening the door. He's throwing himself into the proverbial lion's den, into an introvert's worst nightmare!

The noise and people are almost too much but he distracts himself with all the pink and red. Mercifully, the candy is spread out around the store so he doesn't have to stay in the sea of people. Idia doesn't discriminate when it comes to sweets; he gets soft cake rolls, pixie sticks, little donuts, a few chocolate bars, and a couple of limited edition dessert drinks. He's secretly glad Sam's regular stock didn't take a hit because of the holiday; his snack stash needs replenishing. Packs of ramen and little things of convenience bury his sweets stash but he's careful not to crush anything.

He can almost hear Ortho nagging him to get something green or slightly healthy. If he doesn't, Ortho will be mad at him for a week. It becomes a battle of wits between the Shroud brothers and Ortho is the king of juvenile inconveniences. Idia has learned the hard way; Ortho resets his alarms, throttles his wi-fi, messes with his lights, takes apart his tablet or takes it off charge in the middle of the night, and just about anything else he can think of.

Idia begrudgingly puts some green smoothies in his basket. Along with some pudding cups.

Satisfied with his raid, he waits in line. He's chanting to himself the whole time: just walk, don't make eye contact! Just walk, don't make eye contact! The line stalls enough for someone to bump into him and he panics, stumbling forward into the person in front of him. His hair flickers and flares a little in his panic.

People give him space and he babbles a quick apology. He pulls his hoodie up over his hair but it doesn't hide everything. It makes him feel safe, though. He relaxes a little.

Then, he hears it.

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

Oof. MAXIMUM cringe. NO ONE on campus has a charisma stat high enough to make THAT work! Except Kingscholar and Schoenheit, maybe.

It gets worse when he realizes someone said that TO YOU.

OH NO! HE HAS COMPETITION!

The tactic looks like it failed, though, so he's comforted. You wouldn't go for something so cheap and cheesy! This guy looks like a D-level tank AT BEST. You're an SSR easy. D-levels and SSR's don't go together!

He's an SSR when it comes to stealth and technical skill so maybe one day you guys can link up or whatever. Your choice. The tips of his hair turn pink and he blows on the closest strand to mute the color.

The guy is doubling down. "You're rolling a one, pleb. A hard one." Idia whispers to himself.

"You say somethin', Shroud?" the guy turns to him.

FUCK, HE KNOWS HIS NAME?!

Idia's hair roars to life with surprise. He yanks the hoodie down before the fabric singes and crisps. His strands are wild, untamed, and yellow. His instinct is to stutter and deny it, to backtrack, but your eyes are just shy of pleading and it makes him swallow the word soup.

"I-I said you're rolling a hard one. Y-You're failing!" Idia doesn't know if he's going to faint first or if his legs will give out. His heart might go first.

The guy clearly doesn't get the reference. The brain is buffering and the lag is too great. He shakes his head with a sharp, toothy smile, unable to help himself. Dumb normie, Idia gives a breathy chuckle. Idia has that unfortunate condition where his face talks for him and it must've said some shit because the tank is now laser-focused on him.

You're over the counter before he can process anything, grabbing the guy by the back of his shirt and telling him to leave. The guy just jerks his shoulders and stays the course. Idia sees you get ripped over the counter and tumble to the floor. You recover decently and grab the closest thing to you but something about the sound of your body hitting the floor sends him into a rage he'd only felt in online arguments.

It feels like his veins are burning. He can tell by the size of his shadow and the light dancing across the floor that his hair is long and ferociously orange. Raging orange. Lethal orange.

"Caution," Idia manages somehow through his rage. "C-Contents are hot." he knows he has to stay put. If he approaches the guy he will LITERALLY catch on fire. It's not a bad idea, and he can see the gears spinning in the guy's head. He's wondering if Idia's going to do it or if he has enough time to hit the door.

The guy chooses the door.

It takes several minutes for Idia to calm down. His hair seems to shrink as he deflates into his usual quiet mannerisms. It's shorter than normal! "Used up all my fuel," Idia complains as he drags himself to the counter. "Need calories." he melts pitifully into the counter.

"You need to buy what you burned, too." Sam points to the singed chips and snacks. He already has a few packs that are beyond saving in his arms. Idia realizes the shop is basically empty now and finds the energy to blush. Pink cheeks look really cute against his blue hair!

"Does this mean I'm done for the day?"

"Yes." Sam looks at you. He's not mad or disappointed, but he means you're done. "I think you're a bit of a fire hazard." he teases.

You both blush.

None of this was in his decision tree! WHAT DOES HE DO?

"You, uh, you want to come by Ignihyde and, um, watch some stuff? You don't have to if you don't want to, of course. I just, you know, since it was my fault and all--"

"Is that a nat twenty in the wild? I think I have to now!" you joke.

"You get that?" Idia's mouth hangs open in surprise.

"It might have different names but I think it's the same thing in my world." you shrug. He's so down to discuss games from another dimension!

A nat twenty indeed!

----

Ortho was doing his best to fill the gaps with whatever Sam's shop had to offer. Idia's grocery order was a little delayed due to the Valentine's holiday so he needed something decent to tide him over. Determined to keep his brother from an early, sodium-induced death, Ortho took it upon himself to shop. He wasn't totally heartless, though, so he'd throw in a few bags of chips to make Idia feel better.

A lot of this chocolate was out of the question! The sugar was through the roof! Then again, Idia was hopelessly addicted to sweets. He's pretty sure his brother broke some kind of record for sugar tolerance.

Equipped with Vil's suggestions and the things he researched, Ortho started hunting for healthy foods. He filled the basket with smoothies, yogurts, dark chocolate, fruit, and protein bars. There should be enough texture and flavor variation there to make Idia happy. Well...relatively.

Ortho floated patiently in line, subtly recording the conversations around him for later playback. Organic human interaction was interesting and would help him improve his algorithms and processes.

It's not like it hurt anything! All of the conversations were innocent and--

WAS SOMEONE TRYING TO MAKE A MOVE ON HIS FRIEND? HIS BESTEST, MOST PRECIOUS FRIEND?! ONLY HIS BIG BROTHER CAN DO THAT!

You may not totally get that he's a techno-organic construct (and not a boy who just really loves pretending to be a robot) but HE GETS that YOU'RE NOT COMFORTABLE AND THAT'S NOT OKAY!

"Excuse me, pardon me," Ortho weaves carefully through the people, playing a little 'wee-woo' alarm through his speaker system.

He floats beside the guy, staring at him with those big gold eyes. Pinching his thumb and pointer finger together turns up the alarm.

The guy is ignoring the alarms! How ridiculous! Is this what Idia means by natural selection and survival of the fittest?

A red light pops out of his shoulder, spinning in place.

HE'S IGNORING THAT, TOO?!

"You're being interrupted!" Ortho glares at him now, tuft of blue hair dancing angrily. "This conversation is clearly inappropriate for the setting and is henceforth terminated!"

"Terminated? Big words for a little boy! Go away, big people are talking!" the guy tries to shoo him away.

"Don't be rude to him!" you snap, "And he's right! The conversation is terminated!"

"Terminated!" Ortho echoes, pumping his fist. "Terminated!" he repeats, laughing when some of the people in line begin to join in and chant 'terminated, terminated!'

The guy leaves without buying anything and Ortho is happy to take his place. He pays for the the snacks. "And here's a sticker for you for being so sweet!" you put a sticker on the back of his hand. It's a heart wearing sunglasses.

Ortho laughs despite himself. One day he'll get Idia to explain it to you in a way you understand. He's surprised nothing like him exists in your world but he's glad to be here with you in Twisted Wonderland.

In Your Defense [PT 2 - Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomfiore]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi?

AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length. Trying to get everyone done today. It's my last day off for a few.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

Azul is no stranger to visiting different shops to stay on top of trends. Valentine's Day wasn't something they had in the Coral Sea so this trip was more for the experience than anything. He's taking in the overwhelming but impressive amount of red, pink, and white decorations while trying to look at the other shoppers out of the corner of his eye.

What are they buying? What's most popular?

The holiday seems too brief to plan a full menu, or even to-go specials. Maybe he can do something next year.

There's an emphasis on chocolates and sweets. He's not even eating any of it and his teeth hurt! The small chocolate assortments make more sense than the huge brick of chocolate--dark chocolate?--several Pomfiore students are planning to split between themselves. His stomach hurts at the thought of trying to eat even a third of what they're holding.

In his opinion it's an unimpressive holiday. A marketable one for sure, but unimpressive. Clearly it's meant for the nice, sentimental, mushy people out there.

Not to say there's no one he'd spoil. No one he cares about. Matter of fact, he's got something crunchy in his basket for Floyd! And if it weren't for his mother living underwater, she might like some of these cutesy knickknacks! A set of cookie cutters catch his eye and Azul throws them in his basket without thinking.

Damn hand-brain.

He stares into his own basket, wondering what the justification is. There's a part of his brain saying he doesn't need a reason but he's not an impulsive person. He's a practical person and the practical reason he needs those cookie cutters is to make cookies for the lounge in case any poor soul misses their chance to get something from Sam's!

Yes. Yes, that's it.

He may or may not be trying to tell you he likes you by collecting heart-shaped things. You'll check him out at the register and he'll just keep handing you heart things. Offering his heart over and over.

Not that you'd know. Azul doesn't have the guts to tell you yet. He's got three hearts but no guts.

It's just not the right time, he tells himself. Not the right way.

He puts sprinkles and chocolate stirring spoons into his basket. There's a little mushroom figurine that has white hearts instead of the usual spots. That's for Jade.

Azul weaves between the shelves to get to the refrigerated section, buying a couple of cartons of milk and ice cream. He's not fast but he's stronger than he looks. Aside from the work in his mother's restaurant in the Coral Sea, cooking on land has cultured a lot of muscle in unexpected ways--straining full stockpots, blending quarts of sauces, roasting whole chickens, and hefting huge fish onto the cutting board for portioning. It'll be nothing to carry it all back.

He just doesn't like to do it. And he doesn't like to lose his voice or go completely pink in front of you, but he does. Azul tries to look without looking, charmed by the glittery dangle in your hair and how it brings out the color of your eyes.

Then, he hears it. "How much do you cost?"

It is not enough to beg his pardon. The Seven must also be begged.

A fury whips up inside of him. He's furious that it's just so easy for that lander to chat you up. He's furious that he's not confident enough to do it when he's been drowning in these feelings for weeks. The manager part of his brain kicks in and he becomes furious that you're being accosted on the clock.

SAM WOULD NEVER, BUT WHERE IS HE?! STAFF SHOULD NOT BE MADE TO ENDURE SUCH CONDITIONS!

"Hardly appropriate for the occasion, don't you think?" Azul has stepped in with his signature smooth smile and calm demeanor. He has no cane, hat, or coat at the moment but he knows he makes people uncomfortable without them. There's something about him that makes people nervous. The pecking dread of 'he's human but not totally human' makes them jumpy and very prey-like.

"I-I was just messing around," the guy deflects.

"There's a time and a place. Unfortunately, it's not here and not now. You're interrupting the flow of business and I don't think the other patrons are happy," Azul hums a little as he and the abysmal Casonova look back at all the people in line. They are, in fact, not happy.

"I'll just go." he grabs the change bashfully and doesn't look back.

Azul thanks the person who let him cut in line, half wondering if said person will come back and try to coax a favor out of him. "Thanks, Azul." you smile at him.

"You're most welcome." Azul adjusts his glasses before layering the bags on his arms. You help him with the door. "I'd be happy to treat you to a milkshake. You know, something sweet to make up for whatever THAT was." he gestures to the guy in the distance.

WHY IS HE TALKING? WHY DID HE KEEP TALKING? THE LEGS NEED TO MOVE BUT THEY'RE NOT!

"Sounds great! I'll stop by after my shift."

"Okay," his voice cracks a bit but you don't hear it because the door's already closed. He breaths a sigh of relief.

----

Floyd was sent to pick through the pink and red chaos at Sam's while Jade and Azul redecorated for a Valentine's special at the lounge. It was a last-minute idea inspired by the deluge of advertising. They'd gotten bigger things in town like tablecloths and fancy napkins but smaller treats were lacking. He was tasked with getting melting chocolates and pre-made stuff to balance out the strawberries and fresh groceries they bought.

A big, aggravated sigh passed through his sharp teeth. The line is long and he doesn't really want to do this. Floyd feels his brain shutting off as his looks at heart streamers and silver-and-pink tinsel. At least I won't have to slave over a hot burner all night, Floyd sighs again as he looks at the goods and wonders what would make Azul happy.

The menu will be limited. Each item is heart-shaped, sweet, or both. It honestly just sounds like an excuse to sell people overpriced sugar.

Floyd buys a couple packs of melting chocolates in different colors and some crunchy sour candies for the trouble. Jade sends him a text asking him to grab a couple of cans of whipped cream for the pancakes and crepes. He steps out of line, grabs the cans, and pauses when he hears the guy shoot his shot.

"How much do you cost?"

Really?

Landers are so weird. They don't seem to have any conditions for mating. Why would you entertain this dude when he hasn't shown you he could provide or protect you? Spending money to buy things so he could talk to you isn't the way to provide. Buying your time is no different than those underwater pricks trying to curry his dad's favor with gifts.

It's disingenuous and disgusting.

"I don't see a 'for sale' sign. Can't buy it if it's not advertised." Floyd frowns at the little worm in front of him, sharp teeth poking out beneath his upper lip. "That's how shops work if you didn't know." Floyd laughs.

He was stupid enough to ask you out so he might be too stupid to realize why that pickup line didn't work.

"R-Right." the guy nods, swallowing thickly. Floyd was absently rolling his shoulder, annoyed with how long he'd held the basket. The guy noticed his working muscle and booked it, grabbing most of his change. A coin skipped off the counter, twinkling under the lights. Giggling to himself, Floyd stooped to pocket the change.

"Heya Shrimpy,"

"Hey Floyd," you started scanning the basket of items.

"Ya hungry? It's pretty busy in here."

"A little." you admitted. "But I'll be off soon. I can go back to Ramshackle and make something."

"Nah, come to the Lounge! We're doing specials for groups and couples."

"Does Grim count?" you give a little laugh. Azul lets him in sometimes depending on his attitude. At the very least, he'll let Grim get something to go.

"You get the best deal if you go with me. I'll buy your whole meal." Floyd wiggles his eyebrows at you playfully. His gold eye shines.

"Oh! I like that! I'll bite!"

"A bit early for that but I'll see you there." Floyd knows what he said has confused you. You landers aren't really keen on stuff from the Coral Sea but that's okay. He had a date with you and that's what matters.

----

Jade isn't quite sure what Sam's inventory will hold but he's been tasked with finding interesting things for the Lounge. Pink things, shiny things, profitable things--anything. Azul is convinced it will give him an edge over other places to eat. Never mind the fact that convenience is key and the students don't want to pay for the bus fare or compete with crowds in town.

He peruses the chocolate molds and candy necklaces, amused by the fact you can wear it and eat it. What a novel idea! Sam put a few types of tea on reserve for him and Jade knew they were pretty shades of pink and blue when brewed so that was something. The mer picks up a box of crunchy straw-like things and puts them in the basket. If they don't work as real straws, they can be milkshake accents.

Loaf cakes catch his eye. You could get at least ten slices out of each; top them with a bit of ice cream and you have a cheap but elegant-looking dessert. He puts a few in the basket. Teas considered, Jade is confident in his choices and ready to check out.

"Oya oya? What's this?" Jade's golden eye pierces the spineless lander in front of him. Did his ears deceive him or were you being accosted by unworthiness? "Do repeat yourself. I'm interested."

It sounds like an ask but it's not. It's a demand. A demand for this man to prostrate himself as an apology for his inferiority. For the gall to so much as breathe in your presence.

A punishment for conceiving the notion to approach you, he supposes. A light punishment, all things considered. Jade was capable of far more than some casual embarrassment, after all. His smile was polite but his words were anything but. "Go on. You may not have their full attention but you have mine."

"J-Just forget I said anything, okay?" the guy completely ignores him to whimper to you. He snatches whatever he bought so quick Jade doesn't know what it was.

No matter.

"Hello there," Jade smiles down at you. You definitely fit the holiday theme. Oh! Does that mean he should take you back to the lounge? You're interesting and that fits Azul's criteria.

Yes, he thinks you'd be perfect in the lounge.

"Hi Jade." you pack his items away dutifully. You bag the teas carefully.

Pink and shiny--yes, you must come to the lounge.

"Seeing as you're working for Sam today, I'd love for you to stop by and try these teas. I'm sure he'll appreciate feedback from more than just myself."

"I can make time for tea."

"Perfection."

----

Kalim is admiring the myriad of pinks and reds, bracelets and bangles jingling as he skips into Sam's. Valentine's Day is an interesting holiday. It's practically bursting at the seams with color and he's delighted to know red features heavily. The holiday is practically made to host in Scarabia!

Maybe they could make a red-inspired menu? A red and pink menu? He can't really think of foods that would fit the theme and he'd rather not give Jamil a stomach ache trying all of the chocolate things in here. Kalim trots off to look at the flowers and trinkets, just narrowly avoiding Jamil's stern grab. "Don't run off without me!" Jamil chastises, Kalim giving a half-hearted hum as he analyzed a pair of gold and red earrings.

They weren't cheap but they weren't expensive, either. The price point was fair, Kalim thought. Being who he was, he'd learned to tell the quality of gems and gold from a young age.

Would you like jewelry? He's never seen you wear jewelry. Kalim has bugged Jamil about you a million times, bouncing ideas off of him until he was so frustrated he left the room.

"I think they'd appreciate food more, given their circumstances." Jamil puts the earrings back on the shelf.

"But I always give them food, Jamil! Don't you think they want something different?"

"You're overthinking, Kalim," Jamil taps him in the forehead with a finger. "People are simple. Give them food and attention."

"I would've taken them out on a carpet ride but someone hid my carpet." even when Kalim was trying to cut his red eyes and look peeved, it didn't work. His face was too round and cherubic for it.

"I don't trust that thing," Jamil huffs, guiding him back to the line.

Kalim listens to people talk about plans to split chocolates and call relatives to see what they'd like and a sad pang cuts through him.

Why isn't it that easy for him? He's got more money than people could ever dream of and yet he feels like he's not doing enough for you.

Not that you'd know what he's done for you. He hasn't exactly said he likes you yet. Surely he'd made it obvious with all the invites to Scarabia, right? You hadn't quite caught on to the grocery drops yet but he understands the confusion; Crowley took credit for at least one of those and Kalim was not happy.

"I see an empty-handed Imp!" Sam makes him and Jamil jump. "Are my wares not enough for you, Little One?" he tuts at Kalim's empty hands.

"Oh there's lots of cool stuff!" Kalim promises, smiling brightly. "I just have to be careful about what I eat!"

"What about some roses? Those are popular! They're up there by the register. And we have small fruit arrangements in the refrigerated section, of course."

"Actually, we're just here to deliver an invitation." Jamil redirects Kalim when he seems to be thinking about going to the refrigerated section.

"We could get some festive napkins!" Kalim is leafing through packs of heart designs and colors. Sam seems satisfied. Jamil heaves an irritated sigh as the store owner moves on to his next mark.

Kalim almost drops the napkins when he hears what the guy said to you. It takes Jamil by surprise, too. Jamil starts to panic when Kalim doesn't move; Kalim's outbursts were rare but even rarer were the moments he just froze.

A frozen Kalim means he's contemplating. Dipping his toes into the side of himself he doesn't ever show because it disgusts and disappoints him. The young boy squares his shoulders and raises his head in a way that proves he was raised with etiquette and presence. It's the walk of someone unconcerned because he has so much money that nothing is a problem.

Quick as a flash that cunning, stewing heaviness disappears. Kalim hooks his arm around the guys neck, taking him by surprise. Disarmed by his sunny grin and stunned by his boldness, he stumbles over to a wall of cards. Jamil slithers through the aisles and positions himself just so to listen.

In these rare moments, when Kalim puts on that face, they think alike. Kalim hates these moments because it shows him that people just want money. That they'll trip over themselves for enrichment, compromising morals and anything else as long as the price is right.

But this time it works in his favor.

"Instead of asking how much they cost," the sunniness slowly drains from Kalim's voice, "ask yourself how much it would cost for you to leave them alone. Like, not ask them out again. At all. Ever."

It's the first time someone at NRC realizes Kalim's not all sunshine and rainbows. And that his pampered life hasn't left him completely soft. Kalim had to go through the same training Jamil did, being the heir to a massive fortune and all. He needs to be able to hold his own even though he shouldn't expect to.

Only he and Jamil know some of his rings are hollow and hold poisons. The guy doesn't know how close he is to said poisons.

"Y'know, it's, uh..it's on me. Free." the guy squeaks out, dipping out from under Kalim's arm.

Content, Kalim skips up to you and hands you the decorated envelope with gold calligraphy. "Please come to my party!" he looks at you hopefully, eyes shining.

"I would love to! You know I love your parties!"

"Perfect! I'll pick you up when you're done, okay?" Kalim waves to you.

"KALIM DON'T LEAVE! WE HAVE TO PAY FOR THE NAPKINS! COME BACK!" Jamil has no idea how many sets of napkins he just left with. "Keep the change," he breaths, darting after him.

----

Jamil was taking a rare moment to himself. Lilia and Cater promised they'd keep Kalim occupied for a little while so he could take a breather. They both understood what it was like to look after people, even if it wasn't as serious or to the same degree. The Pop Music Club sessions were normally two hours long, so he had time. Kalim had been yammering nonstop about the Sam's Valentine's setup so Jamil promised to take a look on his behalf.

He grew up around unfathomable finery, almost indulgent to the point of foolishness. Gold forks, gold plates, a knife handle carved from a tree in the Sunset Savanna and inlaid with diamonds--you name it. Perhaps that was why nothing caught his eye, Jamil thought.

So many people were excited about it, though. He had to put himself in their shoes. Their average shoes, just like he was forced to be average lest Kalim feel inadequate.

Poor thing, Jamil rolled his eyes. He was a pro at filtering out noise thanks to Kalim and his ridiculous number of siblings. It was easy to let his brain go and really look at the trinkets and seasonal food. Loathe as he was to admit, some of this stuff was cute.

Jamil let himself bask in the happiness. The freedom.

This is what he wanted for himself one day--traveling, seeing the sights, sampling unusual foods at special times of the year.

Maybe this wasn't so silly after all.

He picked up a few packets of instant curry, only what he felt he could eat and dispose of before fetching Kalim. Curry was a huge weakness of his and he hated that Kalim practically banned it. The amount of caffeine and tea he drank probably bordered on unhealthy (or at least deserved research) but it didn't stop him from throwing a canned coffee into his basket. Because he liked his curry savory and hot, he threw in a strawberry-rose milk drink. It seemed interesting.

Jamil felt the crick in his neck when he snapped his head up in disbelief. Who was this nobody asking you out?!

HOW MUCH DO YOU COST?!

With no Kalim here to temper him, to distract him or force him into the mediocrity, Jamil thought of letting go and lighting the guy up just because.

It really was appalling, his approach. Nothing to offer? What talents or skills did he have? What made him so special, more special than anyone else at NRC?

Nothing, that's what. He probably didn't even know HALF of what Jamil did!

"More than you will ever earn," Jamil answered him. "I'm sure your capacity to make money is on the same pitiful level as your self-awareness. Or do you need glasses to see they're not interested?"

He was known for his biting wit so this was nothing out of character. The way he stared into the boy as if to set him on fire might have been, had no one ever seen him try to get Floyd to cooperate in Basketball Club.

He'd earned his Viper namesake, the boy's ego clearly bitten and bruised as he dragged himself away. His words were deadly, much like Viper venom. Jamil didn't bother watching him leave, setting his basket quietly on the counter and taking out the items.

"Thank you."

All of that venom suddenly dried up. Jamil was feeling quite shy and toothless, not that he'd ever admit it. If he looked up at you, he knew he'd be done for. He could feel his neck heating up.

Unable to resist poking a little fun at him--when did you ever see him blush?--you handed him the change and slapped a smiley face sticker on the back of his hand.

IT HAD HEART EYES!

"I have to go." Jamil took off.

----

Vil was disciplined ninety-five percent of the time so he could indulge the other five percent. Rook all but dragged him to Sam's, waxing poetic about the holiday in all it's pink, sugary glory. He even made Vil promise not to look at any labels while he shopped. Or he could just compromise and let Rook buy him one sweet that he would have to eat no matter what.

That didn't seem too bad, so Vil conceded. Live a little, right?

Several companies had reached out to him in the beginning of February but their products were gluttonous and made him feel sick just looking at them. He felt like he'd be doing his followers a disservice to promote them because they just looked like death in a package. The only one he'd considered so far was a juice from an organic company called 'Beautiful Blends'.

No, not because they had beautiful in the name. The ingredients were organic--he researched the farms--and they had a nutritionist and dietician developing the blends. They had a blend for energy, immune support, digestion, and even one for headache relief. He was interested in the actual beauty blend; it had strawberry, coconut milk, collagen, and several other things he was interested in. It was a milky pink and perfect for Sam to sell during Valentine's Day.

NRC wasn't exactly health-minded outside of Pomfiore so he wasn't worried about missing out. He broke off from Rook, moving with grace and purpose to the refrigerated section. Vil took a split second to admire his reflection in the glass door, satisfied with his skin and the loose hair that escaped his half-bun but had the courtesy to frame his face despite its disobedience. His ring and nails clinked against the glass bottle but he paid it no mind.

"Would you like a basket?" Rook offered his. Vil peered curiously into said basket, unsurprised to see other flavors of Beautiful Blends in there. Rook knew him eerily well. Maybe he knew which ones he'd like to try. He also knew Vil was against overconsumption and wouldn't buy them all at once nor of his own volition.

"I'm fine, thanks." Vil smiled at him, appreciating his constant presence. His discipline and tenacity tended to chase a lot of people away but not Rook. There were people who appreciated him for his routines and followed him loyally, but not like Rook.

Rook wasn't just a 'yes' man. He was Vil's balance in every aspect. As if to prove that, he took the Beautiful Blend from Vil and put it in the basket. Vil didn't like his hands getting wet because that messed with the lotion he applied and it left a weird film on his hands the rest of the day.

"I just said--I BEG YOUR PARDON?" Vil was caught off guard by the flirtation and couldn't believe his ears. It was rare for anyone to surprise him but some NOBODY is trying to make nice with HIS POTATO?!

AS IF!

All he can manage is, "HOW GAUCHE!" as he breezes to the front of the line and stares at the man, absolutely floored. This moment would be a permanent reference for any scene where he needed to look surprised. And lost for words.

And disgusted. And furious.

"You don't think we'd make a cute couple?" the guy teases.

"You want to know what I think?" Vil proceeds to systematically point out the guy's flaws--posture, hair, that one zit coming up in the middle of his forehead--before pointing out that his greatest offense is his sheer selfishness. He's selfish for putting you in a situation where you might cave under peer pressure!

"That's enough, Roi du Poison," Rook shushed him, patting his arm and forcing it down so Vil quit pointing at the little gremlin. If he didn't stop him, he'd keep going. Rook was secretly glad he'd grabbed the Beauty Blend out of his hand earlier; if he was any more worked up it might've gone across the guy's head.

The guy was stunned by the takedown. Vil pointed out things he hadn't thought about. Things he was already insecure about (Vil could tell). "Apologize!" Vil barked in that Housewarden voice.

"I'm sorry." the guy left with whatever trash he bought.

Vil took a moment to compose himself, hands on his hips as he watched the gremlin leave. Fully relaxed, Vil walked to the counter and motioned for Rook to hand him the basket. He set everything out like nothing happened.

"Thank you, Vil."

"It was nothing." he clicked his tongue, waving his hand dismissively.

"Not to me."

Oh, you're clever. And honest. And cute. Maybe he'll drop a hint about his crush in his next interview. Rook forgets he knows French, too, and Vil smashes his hat down on his head on the off chance you know what 'he wants to love you and hug you and kiss you' is in French.

----

It's only natural that Rook would show up for the Valentine's Day sale. He is, after all, a lover of love. Sam never fails to disappoint with his wares and Rook is having a grand time perusing the aisles. There's copious amounts of candy, thoughtful cards, card games for couples, and fill-in-the-blank books with cute phrases and poems!

"You're mine," he smiles at said book, putting it in his basket. There's condensed versions of romantic classics and, had he not read them a million times before, that would be in his basket too. He picks up a pair of heart-shaped glasses for Vil. The desire for liver pate rises in him and he doubles back to check the canned meats. Midway through his careful search, he hears the...attempt...at woo.

A sad, beautiful, nervous attempt.

Rook rises to his full height, feather on his hat dancing almost indignantly as he moves to the front of the aisle. He has half a mind to huck that can of pate hard enough to scare the boy but that would not be very beaute of him.

"Mon amie," Rook drapes his arm around the boy's neck with a disappointed sigh, "There is much to teach you in when it comes to romance."

"Like what? I--" Rook knows that's rhetorical and the guy could care less what he's going to say but he uses his uniqueness to his advantage. He launches into a small monologue about how romance is considerate and kind, not brash and unrefined like that heartfelt confession. Love is delicate like morning dew and tender like the tempting embrace of your bed seconds before you have to get up for the day. Above all, love is knowing your partner in all aspects, which includes when things have gone too far and are not welcome.

Sure, a handful of people left the store entirely but mission accomplished. The guy left shortly after Rook subtly dragged his confession. Satisfied, Rook flashed you a kind smile and unpacked his basket.

"And sometimes love wears a purple hat with a little feather." you smirk at him.

"Oh, Trickster! My heart!" Rook places his hands on his cheeks, face a pretty pink that compliments his green eyes.

---

In the spirit of Valentine's Day, Vil loosened the reigns of Pomfiore's diet for the day. Epel wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth and immediately set off for Sam's. With luck, he'd still have some meats on sale. The holiday was all about fluff and pink and sweets so he wasn't worried about missing out on macarons.

To his delight, there was a selection of macarons. He was in hog heaven! If anyone heard the noise he made, it was probably the deepest and most demented thing they'd heard since Vil got his paws on him and 'refined' him. Epel was going to eat himself sick and regret it in the morning but not right now.

He picked up a second basket just for meats, afraid to crush his beloved macarons. The hamburger buns could share a basket with them, but not the meats. Knowing he had a calorie pass for the day unleashed something primal in Epel. All of a sudden he had SO MANY IDEAS.

Bacon burger? Bacon burger.

Hell, he could even make himself a little less homesick and have a traditional Harvestinian breakfast! He put a small thing of breakfast sausages in the basket. The instant grits were a bit of an insult, as was the 'heat and eat' pulled pork but the portion was reasonable and it wouldn't be money down the drain if Vil confiscated it tomorrow.

His patience begins to thin as he waits in line. The baskets are heavy but they're nothing he can't handle, growing up on a farm and all. The line doesn't seem to be moving at all! What in tarnation?, Epel squints menacingly, leaning out of line to see what the hold up was.

DID THAT NOBODY JUST ASK HOW MUCH YOU COST?!

It's clear you're uncomfortable and even MORE clear that this dude is NOT GETTING THE HINT.

As someone who's been hit on more than he cared for, this makes him mad on a whole 'nother level. You're doing all the right things--redirecting, professional body language--but this guy thinks he's going to get his way.

He's not. Everyone knows it but no one's saying anything.

Well he's gonna. What would his grandma say if he just stood by in a situation like this? He puts his hair up in a ponytail and glares at the guy.

"Were you raised in a barn? Couldn't be because EVEN ANIMALS KNOW WHEN TO LEAVE ALONE AN' GIT!" he gets louder with each word, rolling ups his sleeves. He spares his meat basket a quick glance and picks up the still-cold bacon. It's firmer than the hamburger patties and could give a decent wallop. "GO ON NOW, GIT!" Epel brandishes the bacon.

The guy is understandably confused and concerned. Probably the first time he'd been threatened with cold food. If he wasn't going for beef and bacon, he would've snagged a bag of frozen chicken wings and really wailed on the guy.

"I SAID GIT!" Epel chases him out like the dog he is, the guy narrowly dodging a bacon smack.

Word was going to get back to Vil for sure but he didn't care.

"Looks like you're going to have a good time!" you ring up the meats.

"I'm a free man today! Of course I'm gonna have a good time!"

"Have a good day, Epel. Thanks for stopping by!"

"I...I'd have a better time if you wanted to come eat some of this with me. I-I was plannin' on inviting Jack and Deuce, too. And Ace. Ace likes hamburgers. Vil lets me grill outside of Pomfiore sometimes." he starts to ramble, voice getting smaller and smaller as he goes.

"Sure! I'll grab some drinks and stuff when I get off." you smile, double-bagging the meats.

He's red as an apple when he leaves and that'll get back to Vil, too, but he doesn't care.

In Your Defense [PT 1 - Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw]

You decide to work at Sam's for Valentine's Day and your crush just happens to hear a customer hitting on you. If they get arrested, can you be their alibi? AKA: This person has a death wish and you find out your crush might be jealous?

Note: Each one is random and some will be longer than others. If I made everyone the same length this thing would be MASSIVE and I would probably die.

Not proofread because of the length. Trying to get everyone done today. It's my last day off for a few.

Whatever part Ortho is in will be platonic, obvs.

Happy V-day!

Riddle likes to think he's made great strides not being angry but hearing some utterly disgusting joke about 'how much do you cost?' sends him like nothing else ever has. This guy is tall and so unimpressive, so plain, so average that Riddle can't really recall him at all. Maybe that's just the absolute fury blurring his vision. He knows he's not breathing but his chest isn't burning near as much as his face; the heat is spreading quick and he can feel it in his cheeks and neck. Temples pounding, his vaguely aware of the growl bubbling in his chest as it threatens to slip past his clenched teeth.

Ace calls it his teapot snarl.

Before Riddle knows it, he's flown off the handle and he's going off on a rant. The whole shop is quiet, people physically backing away as he just methodically unravels everything about this cretin from outfit, posture, presence, delivery, unoriginality--everything. Honestly, he doesn't even remember everything he said. The redhead doesn't even tune back into the sound of his own voice until he ends the onslaught with, "You've just paid twenty thaumarks to embarrass yourself but that pales in comparison to the fact that you thought you had a chance with them. You should be ashamed!"

The man slinks away, sad little bag dragging off the counter.

Whispers and giggles diffuse throughout the shop. He ignores the looks that come his way, using the time to come back to himself. Riddle fixes his cute casual clothes, content with the fact you picked them out together. He catches sight of the matching rose clips on your outfit and in you hair and smiles softly. "A strawberry cookie and a cake pop, please." he clears his throat, fishing his wallet out of his pocket.

Sam had an assortment of sweets and he was going to capitalize on strawberry's popularity while he could. He saw you root through the display case, carefully considering the designs even though they were all supposed to taste the same (allegedly).

"Sure thing. Your total is 12 thaumarks. Thanks for stopping by Sam's Mystery Shop! Happy Valentine's Day!"

He hands you the thaumarks as you take the time to slide the I LOVE YOU cookie in his bag.

----

Deuce is an honors student! He is a good boy that's going to make his mother proud!

HE IS SO GOING TO PUNCH THIS MOTHERFUCKER IN THIS FACE!

His shoulders tense, fist clenching at his side. "Why, you think they're cheap? Something to be bought? What an insult!" his head snaps up as he stares down the slightly taller boy. Deuce's teal eyes turn a dark turquoise; the giddy glint of seeing you and chocolate eggs in one place turns to something sharp and steely. He hands the chocolate eggs to Ace, turning right back around to stare the creep down. Old habits die hard; he's grinding a fist into his hand.

"Aren't you the guy always complaining about limited time sales being unfair? Not my problem you missed the window." the guy scoffs, leaning back against the cashier counter. "Anyways," the guy tilts his head back and starts talking to you.

You look uncomfortable and angry that you can't handle this yourself. Professionalism and all.

"You may have caught the window but I'm about to show you the door." Deuce draws up on him with a quickness people have never seen. Not many people know about all the fights he used to get into. Gripping the guy's hair almost to the point of pulling it out, steering him like a panicked bull, Deuce all but chucks him out the front door of the shop. He turns around to walk back inside and buy his chocolate eggs but that spine-tingling feeling of someone fixing to take a cheap shot makes him pivot and nail the guy with a solid kick to the chest. The guy falls back on his butt, breath hitching.

Deuce scoffs and wipes his shoes on the step before going into the shop. The door is almost closed behind him when he hears a strained grunt. He's been in enough fights to know the guy is off the ground and making one last attempt to catch him from the back. More than done with this and just wanting his damn eggs and to say hi to you in all your festive lace, he shoulder checks the door like he's trying to shove Jack out of the lunch line (which he would NEVER, EVER DO).

The guy falls with a satisfying thud and Deuce tries his best to relax his face as he resumes his place in line. It's red from aggravation and the fact he's fishing for his thaumarks because he's forgotten what pocket he put it in. "Sorry about that," he tries to uncrumple the thaumarks a little before handing them to you. "And the face. My face. Not your face! Your face is fine! Like, you're not ugly! I just, uh--"

"Take the change, Deuce-y!" Ace is standing behind him, guiding his nervous body like a puppet. He makes Deuce grab the change and turns him around, shoving him away from the counter before he can make it any worse. "Now help me move this guy's body! He's out cold!"

---

Ace can only laugh when he hears that line. First of all, it's weak. Secondly, the dude must not have any faith in his game if the delivery depends on you being captive behind the counter. During work hours. With an obligation to be forward facing and listening to whatever he says.

"Why? You worried about your budget, buddy?" Ace laughs, hands laced together behind his head.

The guy snaps up, stick-straight. "N-No! I was just--" his face is blooming pink.

"People aren't products, bro. There's no discounts." Ace shakes his head.

"W-What I meant was, I want to take you on a date!" the guy turns back to you and flashes a big smile. All of Ace's pouty mutters fall on deaf ears. Not because he's being quiet, but because the guy is straight up ignoring him. He's not sure where the idea comes from--he'll blame it on an itchy hand--but he sneaks a couple of small candies in the guy's pocket. Sam's familiar top hat bobs into view, snaking around the shelves.

"DON'T FORGET TO PAY FOR THE STUFF IN YOUR POCKETS!" Ace felt confident in his sleight of hand tricks. It wouldn't be the first time he tricked NRC students. It's actually really easy to do. That works in his favor because if everyone can't get their story straight or agree on what they saw, he's a free man.

Sam materializes at the edge of the aisles and seems to stare into the boy's soul. "Young man, please step aside."

Ace looks like the cat that ate the canary as he moseys up to the counter and slaps the box of cherry cordials down. He buys a cherry sucker at the last second, not seeing it at first. "Thanks, Sweets!" Ace winks at you as he strolls out with the bag.

Sam nearly scares him out of his skin, leaning against the wood just outside the door. Ace finally feels the tug of shadows on his feet. "Speaking of sweets," Ace flinches and hides his ear with his blazer, groaning as Sam hooks an arm around his neck and pulls him into his chest sternly. "I understand your frustration, Little Imp. Young love is adorable in all it's wiles! But mark my words, Little Imp: if you lie about wrongdoings in my shop again, you will not come back. Clear?"

"Yes sir." Ace gulps.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Little Imp."

---

Trey isn't really surprised to hear what he just did. 'Boys will be boys', as the saying goes. Frankly, he's disappointed. He's heard smarter things come out of his little brother and sister.

He adjusts his glasses, mentally trying to relax the knot between his eyebrows.

Should he say something? Of course he wants to. It's you! He's been on the other side of the counter plenty of times and has had vivid daydreams of sticking a customer in a stand mixer. But, then again, he has a reputation to uphold and anything he does could reflect back on Riddle.

And send Riddle into a fit, giving him something else to handle.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized he'd have the element of surprise. People--especially men--don't cook enough to know how much arm strength it takes to lift twenty pound bags of flour on the regular. Or the stamina it takes to walk said bags from Sam's shop to Heartslabyul. Even the small five-pound bag of sugar in his basket would suffice as a weapon; the sugar was packed enough to hit like a brick if he lobbed it.

Trey's running the options through his head, almost settling on just saying 'how much for you to stop?' when he sees the end of a sucker rolling between the guy's teeth. Too easy, Trey pushes his glasses up on his nose, hand hiding his smile and the quiet incantation for "Paint the Roses".

All of a sudden the guy is gagging and running for the door. You and everyone else are wondering what the hell just happened. He doesn't come back in. One brave soul suggested he had a really bad gag reflex and the sucker did him in. Only Trey knows it was a mix of sour milk and the pungent soy sauce tart nightmare he tricked Riddle into making once.

"Just this, please. Oh! And what Sam had on hold for me." Trey hands you the sugar, relishing in the brush of your hands.

"Candied violets and a bag of sugar. Twenty thaumarks, please."

"Thanks." Trey smiles at you, laying the sugar flat so his delicate, delectable candied violets don't get crushed.

"Thank you." you smile brightly, handing him the change.

----

Cater wants to gag. Normally Valentine's confessions are cute and IN THE RIGHT SETTING pickup lines are amazing. This? This is a tragedy. Mostly because there is ZERO chemistry and you look #uncomfortable.

He's big on consent since he's always looking for collabs and people to pose with on Magicam so maybe that's why this scene bothers him. Aside from the fact that you're out of this guy's league, obviously. Like, it's really an insult to your time.

'How much do you cost?' Really? You're #priceless.

His brows furrow, lips thinning as he wonders what to do. He plays with the idea of Split Card and creating a small crowd of copies to boo and jeer the guy but the store would be even more packed than it already is. Cater's green eyes twinkle as it hits him. Turning his phone longways, he zooms in on the guy and tells him to keep going because he's live on Magicam. "Don't worry! I've already got all the V-day tags on there! Everyone will see it!"

He's friends with practically everyone at NRC so this guy will be seen by everyone.

Something sick and unfriendly and satisfied swirls in him as the guy's face pales in real time. If he zooms in a little, he can get the beads of sweat in there. "I'll, uh--another time, okay?" the guy darts off and abandons his handful of candy at the register.

"Haul coming later! 'K, bye!" Cater sends a peace sign to the camera, smiling at his own face. He swipes the little chocolates into his basket nonchalantly. He's not even the biggest sweets person but those are his now!

"Gonna have a spicy Valentine's Day, huh?" you ring up the cups of spicy ramen.

"You know it!" he laughs.

"I get it. You have to balance out how sweet you are." you smirk up at him. "Twenty-four thaumarks, please."

#in love. #kiddingnotkidding. #sendhelp. #downbad.

----

Leona doesn't even know why he bothered to show up to Sam's. He could just send Ruggie to get whatever he wanted. The variety of jerky was somewhat tempting but he could just as easily take the bus and get a proper meal off campus. And yet, he stood there with a gloved hand in his pocket, tail swishing back and forth in mild agitation. His green eyes sweep over the winding line until they land on you at the front.

His cheeks warm a little and he scoffs at himself, pretending to pick through the hanging strips of sunflower seeds as the line moves. Every step gets him closer to this soft, powdery scent with just a hint of sweetness. He starts to blame it on all the chocolate and candy and sugary shit exploding out of every possible spot in the store but there's this unmistakable undertone of skin.

Your skin.

He's only caught the scent a million times while hiding from people in the Botanical Gardens. Or when he's forced to attend class, catching a hint of you in the halls.

Leona's not sure why he cares anything about you because you're not magical. You're not interesting.

You shouldn't be, but you are.

You're literally the only person he's ever met from another world. You have no context for the Sunset Savanna or the hierarchy of it. To you, everyone is impressive. He can be something to you.

Why does that matter? He doesn't even know. That's what he tells himself, anyways. You say you have no magic but Leona thinks you can read minds. The look you always give him isn't a pitying one, but a curious one that seeks to dissect him and force him to face everything he keeps shoved deep down inside himself.

Part of him is waiting for the day you pull the right thread and he comes undone in the way he knows he need but can't find the strength for. Somewhere in that knotted mess is his true feelings for you. The stuff he can't admit.

You stand admirably on your own two feet, roughing it out like Ruggie, but you're so far from the intimidating women of the Sunset Savanna. You're approachable and soft; you're built like prey but you have the quick thinking of a predator.

Something in your demeanor changes--your hands pause and flutter nervously--and he's on alert. He's careful to relax his grip lest he crush the box of protein bars for Jack. His ears sling forward and his eyes narrow as he catches that half-baked flirting attempt. Leona doesn't even bother to hide the sneer twisting his face.

Just the thought of you with that hopeful schmuck is nauseating.

Suddenly the scent of all the males around you is overwhelming. Disgusting.

"If you have to ask about the price, you can't afford it. Haven't ya ever heard that before?" Leona 'hmphs' triumphantly, one hand on his hip as he bends down slightly to stare the chump in the face. "Askin' about the price is tacky."

"Wh-what was my total again?"

All Leona had to do was stare at the back of the human's neck. Humans, much like prey animals, grew really squirmy when a predator stared at them too long. Or encroached on their space, much like he was doing. It was for the hell of it at this point.

Leona made a mental note of the guy's face as he scampered off like a terrified cub and looked forward to the day he could send a stray spelldrive disk in his direction.

"Hey Herbivore," Leona plunked the basket down unceremoniously.

"Hey Leona," you looked down at the random stuff in his basket, trying not to smile at what just happened. Something warm and--dare he say it?--proud welled up in his chest when he realized you were happy about him scaring the guy off.

The heart-shaped stickers he kept finding on everything when he got back to Savanaclaw helped, too.

----

Ruggie lived for the holiday specials at Sam's. He was a bit put out that he wasn't picked to staff the Valentine's shift but the in-store discounts were a small consolation. It'd be better if he could stack them with an employee discount but he'd take what he could get! His mouth started watering as soon as he entered, sniffing out deliciously fluffy donuts.

Hopefully people would be distracted with the lollypops and chocolates and leave his donuts alone!

He choked down the occasional nervous whine when people gravitated too close to the donut display, distracting himself with the decor and wondering what would be most profitable to flip. His eyes began to wander to the people in front of him; Ruggie tsk'd at how casual and unguarded they were. Ripe for the picking, he looked at their wallets and fistfuls of thaumarks just out in the open.

If he wasn't worried about being banned from Sam's and losing some gigs he'd--

"How much do you cost?"

EXCUSE ME?! Ruggie freezes, eyes going wide and ears twitching when he hears that. The dude said that and LIVED?

Oh, right. You're not a Savanna girl. The girls back home would beat him up and make him pay them to stop. Or just smack the shit out of him hard enough to put him in a coma. Maybe break his jaw so he can't drop anymore awful lines.

Women are to be respected! Not treated like something you can purchase!

Given that you weren't a Savanna girl and were bound by the rules of 'I'm currently on the clock', Ruggie took things into his own hands. You could just treat him later!

"Laugh with Me!" Ruggie hisses, backing into the closest display. It was a little bump to him but far more to the guy up front. He waved his arm around, skimming the bags of gummy candies while the guy at the register knocked down a whole tower of balloons on a stick. Bending over just enough to line the guy's head up with the counter, Ruggie lunges forward.

WOMP!

Oh it was so satisfying. The guy is hopelessly, helplessly stunned. He gathers his bearings and Ruggie slides his foot out; the guy loses his footing and slams into the counter again.

Only two times before he gives up? Kind of weak-willed, Ruggie thinks with a little smirk as he side-steps the disoriented guy and waits patiently to check out. Sam tends to him while you get the donuts he's been craving.

They'll taste even better because they smell like you. Happy Valentine's Day to him!

-----

Jack is usually very stoic but a lot of people mistake his stoic observation for irritation. He would blame it on his intimidating physique but he's not sorry and takes great pride in his appearance. He's a beastman--a Howl!--he's supposed to be intimidating! Intimidating appearance aside, Jack is also a very helpful soul.

A good boy, if you will.

The only reason he's in Sam's is on Ruggie's behalf. He was tasked with picking up a few things and was more than happy to help out his senior. They were from the same dorm, after all! Practically a pack! You have to help your pack!

He's not really bothered by the amount of people, more focused on keeping his tail out of people's way and making sure he doesn't knock anything over. All at once, the atmosphere changes a little. There's a hint of sour in the air and a noticeable hike in someone's pulse.

It's your pulse. You look...distressed? Why are you distressed? Where is the threat?

Whatever it was, he missed it and he's cursing himself.

His ears swing forward as he catches bits and pieces of conversations. Some people are complaining the guy is taking too long, other people are laughing at his crappy pickup line. Some people are wondering if it's going to work.

This was a weak display if he ever saw one. The guy didn't even look confident in himself! All of your body language has now firmed up into rejection but the guy's not getting the hint. He's trying the 'oh, c'mon!' thing his siblings do when they want to play.

You don't know it, but you've been feeding Jack when he trots by in wolf form. He likes to finish off his morning jogs in wolf form to really stretch his joints and obliques. It was supposed to be a one-off thing, him following the tantalizing aroma of food to your door. Your cooking is fantastic and while you don't know that you're a pack mate, you're a pack mate!

You're just a pack mate who feeds him and gives him occasional pets. And these to die for scratches that he'd kill to feel with his real skin instead of fur. Any touch would be fine, really. Not that you'd ever know.

Jack doesn't even know he's growling until people start moving out of his way. The growl crescendos as he walks towards the guy. Tail bristling, Jack opens his mouth to show off sharp canines. "Get lost! They're not interested in you! They're just trying to work!"

As expected, the guy tucks tail and runs. Jack snorts, licking his lips that have suddenly become dry. His ears don't know what to do, caught between catching all the murmurs behind him and wanting to press down in embarrassment.

It's quiet but he hears it. "Thank you, Jack."

"Don't mention it," he crosses his arms, looking everywhere but you as you scan his items. He was avoiding looking at you directly but he notices you slip a few extra beef sticks into his bag. He blushes.

Yeah, don't mention that either.

OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [HEARTSLABYUL]

in which he rescues you from your very short-lived wedding.

SUMMARY: due to a massive misunderstanding, a prince from royal sword academy is set to wed you at sunset. thankfully, your un-princely crush is here to save the day and crash this lovely wedding.

PAIRINGS: everyone x fem reader (separately)

WARNINGS: they're being a bit dramatic, characters are 18+, makeout (cater)

NOTES: this is echoes the ghost bride event, but listening to this prompted me to write out this scenario instead. i made this for shits and giggles, so have fun with this!

HEARTSLABYUL | SAVANACLAW | OCTANIVELLE | SCARABIA | POMEFIORE | IGNIHYDE | DIASOMNIA

There was no way you would be able to say 'no' now, not when there were hundreds of Royal Sword Academy students and even more members of a random royal family whose last names you cannot recall waiting outside that door. Aside from a completely oblivious Neige and Che'nya who was nowhere to be found, there was no one you could really ask for help to get you out of this mess.

You turn to your supposed betrothed with frantic eyes, shaking your head wildly. "I already told you, I'm not the one you danced with at the ball!" Your hisses fell on deaf ears. That damned prince from Royal Sword Academy was too busy making the 'goo-goo' eyes at you to even register what you were saying.

"I just happened to have the same shoe-size!"

Damn it, why did you have to agree to fitting some missing girl's shoe?!

Pierce Charmant, possibly the most delusional guy you have ever met in Twisted Wonderland, clung onto your calf with a stubborn expression. He had no intentions of letting you go, and neither did his five other guards that had blocked your way.

"You have to be her!"

"You don't even know my name!"

You were really counting on Grim to get someone, anyone, to stop this wedding. Yet, as you are walked down the aisle by the fair Neige, you are already planning out a divorce settlement plan. Based on the number of guests here, who had filled this entire venue from top to bottom, you would have guessed that this prince was rather rich. If it was to be an unhappy marriage, at least your wallet would be more than compensated.

You managed to convince this prince to send invitations to Night Raven College, but that didn't matter. He was so excited and in a hurry to marry, that your friends barely had any time to rescue you! There must have been so much traffic with the mirrors that they couldn't even use them! There was just no way that they'd make it in time now.

And so you consign yourself to readying some divorce papers within the next few weeks, and planning out how to avoid any more interactions with this guy while you were married.

You stood at the chapel's base, your expression exasperated than ever as you kept darting your gaze to the door. You've already tripped over the aisle a few times, fumbled the scripted vows, and even called for a bathroom break or two to stall.

And now comes the big moment that you were so desperately trying to avoid.

"Would you, Pierce Charmant, take the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, as your lawfully wedded wife?"

The prince smiles so sickly sweet, and its the look of a man who won't change his mind.

"I do."

You grimace as the officiant faces you, just as blind to your annoyed expression.

"Would you, the Ramshackle Dorm Prefect, take Pierce Charmant as you lawfully wedded husband?" They didn't even use your name!

You pause, the image of your crush flashing before your eyes.

You would never see him again if you let yourself get married. Defiance returns to your face as you suck in a deep breath, ready to deal with the consequences of rejecting this delusional prince in front of hundreds of people.

"I—"

"I object!"

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

"Grim, please explain to me why I received an invitation to the Prefect's wedding... I am calm, Trey. I would just prefer to know the details before I go and fetch her myself... and may I ask one more thing? Yes, hoW IN THE WORLD DID THE PREFECT GET KIDNAPPED LIKE THIS?! DON'T YOU DARE TRY TO CALM ME DOWN, CATER. I AM PERFECTLY CALM."

Riddle calmly asked about your whereabouts, and it does not take him long to immediately get to work. As one of the better respected housewardens among the roster, it was easier to ask for a few favors that could get him to that damned cathedral fast. However, as the traffic did pile up to get to this accursed wedding, Riddle finds himself on horseback.

He does have this awful crush on you, but it never really crosses his mind. Even as he holds certain feelings for you, it's at the back of his mind. Riddle values your autonomy, and this marriage was a massive red flag. Surely, you cannot have possibly agreed to such a thing. It was just not in your nature. You would have protested, and the fact that you are not back in campus means that something is preventing you from speaking your mind. Riddle really respects you in this aspect!

Still, the idea of you marrying some prince who barely knew it was absolutely absurd. Riddle won't allow it, he absolutely won't!

The doors were flung open with a loud thud, revealing a red-head in a suit. Much to your surprise, Riddle isn't burning red with a fiery rage and threatening to have everyone's head off. He's stomping towards you and your supposed groom, fist clenched as he throws out an arm out of anger. He doesn't seem too angry, but determined.

"ENOUGH! SHE WILL BE COMING BACK TO NIGHT RAVEN COLLEGE WITH ME NOW."

Okay, maybe you were wrong about him not being angry.

His voice echoes throughout the entire cathedral, followed by several flinches at his sheer volume. Immediately, the crowd by the rows inch back a bit further as he continues to march forward, ignoring the guards that seemed to hesitate to approach him. Pierce raises a brow, almost annoyed rather than fearful of this disturbance.

"There seems to be a misunderstanding. You see, the Prefect is going to be married to me. You can sort out your affairs after the ceremony is over." Well, that didn't seem to help one bit, judging by how Riddle seemed to fume even further at this statement.

The housewarden comes to a halt, sucking in a sharp breath to calm his temper. The last thing he wanted to do right now was to frighten you.

He breathes out your name, sending a stutter through your heart.

"Do you truly want to marry this man?"

It almost makes you swoon, the way Riddle looks at you so earnestly as he asks for some affirmation. Had it been any other scenario, you would've taken your time to bore your eyes into his and study his expression. Instead, you shake your head wildly, racing down the aisle until you have hidden yourself behind him.

Riddle has the nerve to smirk at the shocked Prince. "And here, I thought princes had a code of conduct when it came to their ladies." He turned back to you with an assuring look. "I'll take you home, Prefect."

Truly, Riddle had no intentions of playing around. He had only one objective, to get you out of here. Just as he turns around to escort you out of the cathedral, a pair of guards had blocked the exit.

"No, I cannot let you leave!" Pierce cried out, ready to give chase. "Prefect, please! Give me a chance. You cannot possibly be ready to leave me for... this guy!"

Riddle's eye twitches as he cranes himself to look at the prince. "You have some nerve!" He clicks out, clenching his fists once more. Everyone feels the cathedral heat up, those closer to the aisles feeling beads of sweat form upon their temples. Even as you looked at Riddle so gently, a part of you was somewhat grateful that he was sticking up for you.

Just as his top was about to blow, you muster the will to tug on Riddle's sleeve. As quickly as his reddened face came, it disappears when he glances back at your soft expression. Huffing out a heavy sigh, Riddle clicks his tongue and marches towards the exit.

"Let's be on our way, Prefect. We shouldn't waste our precious time on these trifles."

Needless to say, no one really wanted to test the housewarden's patience as he escorted you out of that Cathedral. Riddle certainly doesn't waste time hoisting you onto his horse and galloping away, not giving the prince a second to try and retrieve you.

He grumbles about the entire ordeal, mostly questioning the absolute ridicule of the marriage. What kind of prince thinks he can get away with it? Riddle is certain to send a complain to Royal Sword Academy regarding their lessons on conduct if no one tries to stop him.

You could easily see Night Raven College from afar as you peeked from behind his tuft of red hair. Riddle is still rambling, a preferable alternative to losing his temper entirely. "That ruffian dares to marry you and has yet to learn your name! How uncouth!" He spat in absolute distaste, and he finds comfort in the way you giggle in agreement.

Riddle doesn't seem to take note of the way your arms are crossed around his middle, or maybe he does, and just chooses not to let his blush show. He cleared his throat, gripping the reigns a bit tighter. "You will find better suitors, Prefect. Just promise me that he wouldn't be so impulsive as that Prince."

TREY CLOVER

"Can you drive any faster, Deuce? No, I don't think we're late. Better safe than sorry! ... Suit, check. Speech, check. Myself, check. I've got everything in order, but... hah, I'd expect to do this type of thing a few years down the line, let alone object at a wedding at all. At least, it's the Prefect's wedding... That's such a weird thing to conceptualize at this point in time."

He really didn't have to be so dramatic about the entire thing, but Trey is really going all-out for this objection. Really, all he's done is seen movies where someone objects at a wedding and while he knows its entirely fictional, our boy here has to drive the point home; no one is marrying the Prefect today.

So that explains why he even bothered to dress up and rehearse a speech throughout the entire ride to the cathedral. He has Heartslabyul helping him out to secure an escape for you in case things went awry. Sure, Trey's Unique Magic won't come in handy but he's good with his words, and is relatively charismatic. He's earned that title of Vice Housewarden, after all.

All that preparation flies out the window when he sees you down the aisle, however.

"Trey?"

He's blinking profusely, almost flustered himself by how radiant you looked in that wedding dress. For a moment, Trey swears that he's had some sort of tunnel vision when all he seems to see is you. It strikes some envy in him when he reminds himself that this wasn't his wedding, and this wouldn't be yours either.

"Prefect..." Trey breathed out, struggling to recall the damn script he was supposed to follow. They are lost, just as he found himself lost in your sparkling gaze.

Screw the script, he was just going to have to wing this one.

He narrows his eyes onto the shocked prince, taking steps down that long carpet. "I've come to bring you back to Night Raven College."

Pierce raises a brow, glancing back at you and the intruder with suspicion. "On what grounds?" He questions snidely, uncertain of what to make of this new character. "If it is for anything trivial, then you may bother the Prefect later. You are obstructing a ceremony here, sir."

You recognize that dangerous glint behind Trey's eyes, and it only serves to make your heart race. Trey simply smirks, hiding away his hesitant exterior with a haughty farce. "I am afraid it cannot wait. I cannot allow the Prefect to be married without saying my piece."

He doesn't exactly know where all his bravado was coming from, but if he had to confess his feelings to you now, then so be it.

Trey looks at you, flashing a gentle yet sheepish smile. "Prefect, I fell for you. Hook, line, and sinker." You let out a dramatic gasp along with the onlookers, allowing a hand to fly to your parted lips. "I have harbored those feelings for a long time now, and I cannot bring myself to see you married without letting my heart be known."

Swallowing to himself, Trey's expression falters slightly, falling into one of softness. "Prefect, it is your happiness that I desire. No matter what happens, I will support your choice."

He didn't exactly have to tell you twice, not when you hurry yourself over to his side and latch onto his arm. You didn't have to feed his ego like that, but it isn't as if Trey had any room to complain.

Pierce is angered by the sight, glaring daggers at Trey with such envy and animosity. "Prefect, are you really leaving me on the altar?" As if to subtly annoy the prince even further, Trey hooks an arm around your waist and pivots you to turn. "It seems to be so, Prince Pierce. I fear that your beautiful bride will be stolen on this lovely afternoon."

You do not miss the way Trey smirks at your flustered expression. Just as he continues to walk you to the exit, you gritted your teeth at him. "Don't say such things!" You tell him as the heat rises to your cheeks. You hear him hum at your ear, followed by the slight press of his fingers on your hip.

"Why shouldn't I? You look beautiful in this dress," Trey murmurs in your ear, pushing the cathedral door open with his hand. "And I suppose that the prince hasn't coaxed this expression out of you. I almost feel sorry for him, that he never got the chance to see how lovely you are when you are putty in my hands."

Trey doesn't stop teasing you, even once you are back in Night Raven College. He wouldn't stop complimenting you either, aiming to have you as red as possible. He just can't help it. It's probably the high he got from confessing his feelings to you, or maybe it's the part where you're unsure if he was being sincere or not. Regardless, it was fun seeing you get all flustered because of him.

You are seated by the Heartslabyul's kitchen counter, snacking on some quick treats that Trey had prepared for you. He claims that it was a consolation for the fact you never got to taste your own wedding cake. Still clad in your grand wedding dress, you couldn't exactly care any less about the crumbs soiling the skirts. "You're no prince charming, Trey." You mentioned mid-bite, eyes glancing at the vice-housewarden who was seated across from you.

"What makes you say that?" He asks you with a slight smile, resting his chin on his palm as he shamelessly bored his gaze into yours.

You snort, rolling your eyes at his seemingly sweet disposition. "Prince Charmings don't tease the girls that they like until they're as red as Riddle." You huffed, digging your fork into the pastry. "You cruel man! You haven't stopped ever since you stole me from the prince!"

Trey chuckles, and you cannot keep yourself from gulping as he leaves his seat, sauntering towards you like a lion would his prey. "Oh? I suppose that I am no Prince Charming. I'm not a pure white knight either. If you think I am being cruel, I won't stop you, sweetheart."

Your heart stutters as he slides a finger underneath your chin, tilting your head so that your forced to look his way. Trey smiles at you, eyes twinkling with absolute mischief. "I highly doubt Prince Charmings steal kisses from their crushes either. For you, I will be kind. May I, sweetheart? I do not need your shoe size to know my feelings for you, at least."

CATER DIAMOND

"Gah, it just refreshed! They've just gotten past the walking part! Deuce, shortcut on your left! Sorry, I'm switching tabs between maps and the livestream! Prefect looks is such a cutie in that dress, it makes me so envious of the prince! Oh well, she really looks like she doesn't wanna be there anyways. I'm coming Prefect! I'll save you!"

There's just this image of Cater clinging onto Deuce on a blastcycle, raising his phone up for a signal as they attempt to maneuver their way through the streets. Everything just happened in such a rush, and Cater's scrambling to get to you. He isn't like Trey who bothers to prepare, but if anything, Cater will ramp up the dramatics to the maximum.

His real goal is just to get you out by any means necessary, and more preferably, without violence. So Cater will do what he does best; make a grand spectacle of the entire thing until the prince is forced to abdicate. Worst case scenario, he's going to drag you out the door and shove you onto the damn blastcycle.

If he has to play the part of your real paramour, then he hopes you'll forgive him. He's got the suit and the desperate look on his face ready to go!

Your jaw goes slack at the way Cater makes a dramatic run for the aisle, somewhat unused to that stricken expression on his face. You're almost concerned for him with the way he grips his knees, attempting to keep his balance as his eyes zone in onto yours.

"Prefect, you can't marry him!" It's too out of character of Cater, and you know better than to think he'd ever be this undone in public. "Is this what you really want?!" Before you could even reply, Pierce cuts in with a slight glare.

"And who are you to talk to my bride like that?" It is then when you catch wind of that mischievous glint in Cater's eye as he throws out his arm dramatically.

"I am the Prefect's sweetheart! Who are you to take my girlfriend like that?"

You have never heard the cathedral go so silent. You are utterly speechless, lips parted with absolute surprise. Clearly, judging by the way sweat had begun to form on the side of Cater's temple, you cannot help but think that this was all improv on his half.

Pierce turns to look at you, almost stricken by the ginger's declaration. "Prefect, is that true?" His voice trembles with fear. "Is that truly your... sweetheart?"

A part of you feels a bit sorry for what you were about to do, but you had to remind yourself that you had been dragged into a wedding on the same day you met this prince.

You are running now, sprinting to Cater's side as you clutch his hand in your own. Turning back to the scandalized prince, you nod firmly, playing along with the farce. "We've been dating for a long time now! And I'm in love with him!" You declare, sending gasps throughout the entire cathedral.

You glance up at Cater, mustering a smile across your features. "You came to save me!" He's almost surprised by the way you cling onto him even harder, but it only serves to sell the act even further. Cater smiles in return, holding you closely. "I'd never let you go, cutie. I love you too much to let you leap into the arms of another man."

Maybe the act is too good, too calculated. That is exactly what goes through your head as Pierce raises a brow in suspicion, narrowing his eyes onto the pair as if attempting to spot a mistake. "Is that so?" He murmurs until he crosses his arms, disbelief on his skeptical expression.

"Prove it."

Cater and you freeze up simultaneously, heads turning to glance at one another. He looked so caught off guard by Pierce's demand, and there's so many eyes on you both.

"You're both longtime sweethearts, right? I wouldn't want to split apart such a happy couple..."

Cater is staring at you, attempting to read your expression. It's difficult, especially when you look at him as your gaze gets even more glossy. He wouldn't want to do anything you didn't want to, and he's already readying himself to sprint out the door with you in tow.

"Prefect, you don't have to—mmph!"

You wasted no time in snaking your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against him with such boldness. He could feel you pour all your wants and longings into the kiss, the plush of your soft lips melding into his own. How could he not deny you his own affections, not as he cups your cheeks with his slender fingers and presses back against you.

He dares to go even further, pulling back for a slight gasp of air before diving back into you. Much to his delight, you aren't pulling away either, choosing to even entangle your fingers into his hair for leverage.

Then you hear a groan from the prince, followed by his pleas for you two to stop this display. It seems that he got the point now, at least.

Even as both of you exit the cathedral, Cater still maintains the image that he was your boyfriend. You don't exactly protest, and even then, it didn't seem to different to the way Cater had been treating you as a friend. He is still as clingy as ever, closing the physical proximities by having you hang onto his arm.

And you best believe he's snapping as much photos of you to commemorate the event. He's already updating his MagiCam account on his success, not to mention the pretty girl on his arm.

"Cater, what are you doing?" You asked, unable to hide the grin on your face as Cater sets up his camera against the tire of the blastcycle. You could see yourselves on the reflection of the device, followed by the grand beauty of the cathedral behind you both. He grins at you as he shifts at your side.

"What? It isn't everyday a cutie like you gets to look like a bride. We got the perfect backdrop!" He sings, sliding an arm around your waist as he strikes for a pose. You follow his lead, matching his energy with each shot.

"Careful! People are going to think we're dating for real!"

Cater smirks at you, leaning in closely to your ear with a sickeningly sweet tease. "Wanna make it official then, cutie? Can't have any random princes asking for your hand, not when you're dating me." He is not stranger to the way you blush, letting out a chuckle at the sight.

"Aw, cutie! Are you still thinking about the kiss? I didn't think you would be so bold about it." Pressing a quick peck on the cheek, he rests his chin on your head as he prepares for another pose. "Don't worry. CayCay's gonna initiate it next time!"

DEUCE SPADE

"Grim, which way?! I can't see the GPS! ... Don't I just have to go in there and yell 'I object'? It looks easy! I'll say it then drag Prefect out of there... Ha?! I need to prove that I have a good reason to get her out? Fine! I don't care, the Prefect needs me!"

Possibly the closest we will get to a legit Prince Charming. Perhaps Deuce is a bit on the rugged side, but he's possibly one of the most earnest and noble students from Night Raven College. He cares about you more than he cares about getting his feelings across, but that is not to say he won't be honest about it either in this confrontation.

He's not exactly sure on how to break up the ceremony. Grim and Ace are coaching him through what to say, and admittedly, the process seems too complicated. All he knows is that he has to run through those doors and convince the prince to not marry the Prefect by any means necessary.

"Deuce!"

He is the one to always come running at the sound of your name. Deuce had been someone you trusted during your stay here in Twisted Wonderland, and you never seemed to stop and think about just how attached that boy was to you. Sure, you held him closely as a friend and held affections for him, but the way he sprinted towards you was a testament to how much he cared.

"Prefect!" You are racing to meet him halfway, launching yourself into his chest. He catches you barreling into his suit, immediately wrapping his arms around you in a protective manner. Then he takes you by the soldiers, looking down at you with such concern and worry. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" He fusses, earning a shy smile from you.

"I'm okay, Deuce. I'm okay."

"And what is the meaning of this?"

Catching sight of the infuriated prince, Deuce beckons you to stand behind him. Cerulean eyes narrow onto the groom with animosity, accompanied by the way his hands are itching towards his wand. "I can't let you marry her. The Prefect will be returning to Night Raven College with me." You can sense the nervousness in his tone, but Deuce remains firm in his words.

Pierce's eye twitches, and he scoffed in disbelief at Deuce's protective display. "I am afraid that cannot be possible. I am marrying the Prefect, and that is final." Clicking his tongue, Pierce rolls his eyes and holds out his hand for you to take. "Come, darling. I am not surprised that you have garnered the affections of an admirer, but I fancy you more than this one ever could."

Something in Deuce snaps as he lets out a cry.

"But I love her!"

You stiffen against his back, taken by surprise by Deuce's sudden confession. And the boy glares, and it almost so painful for Pierce to keep his stare, not when there was so much conviction and certainty behind Deuce's voice.

"I've loved her longer than you have, and known her much longer than that!" His voice cracks underneath the emotional turmoil bubbling within him. "Did you even stop to consider what she wants? Did you wonder if this wedding would make her happy in the first place?!"

You take note of how Deuce's fists are clenched pale, how his breaths had suddenly grown haggard. With a soft expression, you curl yourself onto his back, arms hugging him from behind in an attempt to placate him. His body stiffens against your hold, but he reaches to clasp your hands onto his own.

He is just thankful that you aren't seeing the way his eyes had begun to water at the thought of losing you entirely. "So please," He chokes out, expression twisted with a sort of agony.

"Please don't force her to marry you. She deserves so much more than that."

Thanks to the waterworks that Deuce had caused, the wedding was called off. There was just no way that the prince could marry you after Deuce poured his heart out to deter him from wedding you.

It's almost sweet, the way that Deuce lifts you onto the blastcycle and fixes the helmet onto your head. He encourages you to hold onto him tightly as he speeds away from the cathedral, all the more determined to settle you back into NRC.

By the time he's dropped you off at the Ramshackle Dorm, only then does he take the time to bask in how radiant you appeared in a wedding dress. Thinking about his crush in a wedding dress had never crossed Deuce's mind before, but this definitely gave him something to ponder about for the next couple of nights.

You are handing him the helmet, a shy smile surfacing across your features. "Thank you for saving me from that awful wedding." Deuce clears his throat, shifting his gaze as he takes the helmet from your grasp. "I didn't want you to do something you weren't willing to. It just isn't right."

He doesn't realize just how dry his throat as gotten when he cannot bring himself to keep his thoughts to himself. "I love you. I really do, and I wish I said it at a better time." He swallows to himself, letting the embarrassment burn into the back of his head as he recalls his declaration. It was only natural that 'like' would turn into 'love' after being your close confidant for this long, pining quietly during the months spent with you.

You cannot exactly blame him either, not when his feelings were entirely reciprocated. You shift on the balls of your heel, biting onto your lower lip.

And in a swift motion, you lean in to press a chaste kiss against Deuce's warm cheek. You pull away to bask upon the stunned expression on his face, only to give him a shy smile of your own.

"Would you be down to try confessing again tomorrow?"

ACE TRAPPOLA

"BAHAHAHAHA! THERE'S NO WAY THE PREFECT IS GETTING MARRIED. WHO WOULD EVER WANNA MARRY THE PREFECT? PFFFFT, GRIM, YOU'RE SERIOUSLY PULLING MY LEG HERE. YOU EVEN BROUGHT ME A FAKE INVITATION! AIN'T NO WAY THAT SHE— Oh... Wait, really? The wedding is happening right now? ... Oh."

Ace thought you were just messing him again for that one time he said that no one would ever be interested in you. He simply said that to discourage you from trying to pursue a relationship with anyone else, but he didn't mean for you to prove him wrong like that! He never believes Grim until Deuce, Riddle, and the rest of Heartslabyul receive invitations to a wedding that was meant to start in 3 hours.

This is the absolute worst time to be in denial about his feelings. The Prefect wearing a wedding gown is one thing, but another is the fact that the groom is some pompous prince from Royal Sword Academy. Does that guy seriously think he was your type? No way! Ace knows you better than anyone on this campus, so this guy can buzz off!

A part of him did think that you were serious about marrying this stranger. In all fairness, Crowley's allowance pales in comparison to whatever Mr. Money-Bags had over there. He wouldn't blame you if you were marrying the guy for money.

Still, the last thing he wants is for you to be whisked away to who knows where. Ace would never see you again, and as embarrassing as it sounds, he did get very attached to you. Yes, a part of him wants to keep you to himself, but he also values your autonomy here. And if he knew you that well, he knows that you wouldn't want to be married off like this.

"Prefect, I'm here to pick you up."

You are actually surprised by how princely Ace looked in that moment. Dressed in a suit befitting a groom, you could help but feel your breath stolen away once his scarlet eyes were pinned onto yours. You could have been fooled then, and perhaps, Ace did turn into a prince as he marched down the aisle with his arm outstretched for you to take.

Ace never realizes the way a victorious smile creeps onto his face when you break out into a grin, taking the skirt of your dress as you make run for it. The crowd gasps as you crashed into Ace's chest, and he does not hesitate to take a protective stance in front of you. With a haughty laugh, he smirks at the baffled prince. "Who are you?!"

The redhead's arm wraps around your waist, pressing your body closer to his own. "Sorry about that, but I'll be taking your bride indefinitely! Trust me, you'll be severely disappointed after spending one good day with her!" He snickered, much to your horrified expression. You lightly smack at his chest, glaring at him with that pout that he adores so much.

"Hey!" You whine, and Ace simply beams at the prince who hesitantly steps forward. The redhead snorts, rolling his eyes at the crowd that are offended at his immature display. "I'm doing you a great favor here! If you kissed those lips, she'll turn into an ugly green ogre by sunset!"

"HEY!"

Pierce's eyebrows are furrowed as he looks at you, as if pleading for you to return to his arms. "You'd best return her, boy. We can settle this maturely." Ace does not like the way that these bodyguards are eyeing him, shifting closer and closer as he backed you both towards the venue entrance. He never falters, and neither does that shit-eating grin on his face.

"Sorry, buddy. The clock's struck midnight and all your magic tricks are fading!" He barks. Now, he knows that an escape must be made. The last thing he wants is to have another Eliza-episode. He looks down at you with a wide grin, clasping you arm with a firm squeeze.

Ace sneaks into his pocket, still looking at you. "You know something, Charmant? Maybe not all the magic has gone yet." His hand reveals the Ace of Cards, and it is immediately thrown up into the air.

As the card reached its peak in height, a burst of smoke filled the air, obscuring the magician and yourself from view.

You don't exactly need a signal to start running when your feet began moving on their own, dashing towards the door followed by the Ace's laugh and the prince's demand for guards.

Ace has no white horse, but he has Deuce with his blastcycle! Who knows how the three of you managed to fit on that bike, but you made it work! The guards couldn't exactly catch up in their cars, not when Deuce was dodging vehicles left and right to make this escape. Ace did take one final look back, sticking his tongue out at the defeated prince before you all disappeared around the corner.

Ace gives you his shoes, despite how oversized they may be. You complained about those glass shoes on you, and to 'shut you up', he's given you his runners.

When you make it back to Night Raven College and all the adrenaline has died down, Ace stays by your side the entire time when you explain the entire situation to Crewel and Crowley. He acts so nonchalant about things, even as you both walk all over the campus like groom and bride.

It's a rather odd sight; you in your wedding gown, and Ace right next to you as you both sit on the bench by the Great Seven's statues. Students wandering about at night had given both of you puzzled stares, but no one is ever surprised when they realize it's you and Ace, however.

"Wow, Prefect. Not even a thank you?" He glances at your slightly annoyed expression, throwing his hands up defensively in response. "I was kidding about the ogre stuff! Really!"

You could only roll your eyes at his words, huffing as you crossed your arms across your chest. When you refuse to speak, Ace sticks out his lower lip into a pout as he leans his head onto your shoulder. "Come on, don't be like that. Are you actually that upset about it?"

There is no response from you, not even a glance as your nose is turned away from him. Then Ace sighs, practically clambering over your lap just so that you are forced to look at him. "Prefeeeect, I said I was sorry! What? Do I have to kiss you to make me apology authentic?"

Only then do you look back at him with a raised brow, almost expectant. Ace blinks with surprise, a slight blush creeping to his ears. "For real? You're serious?" He exclaimed, much to your agitation. You sigh even louder as you shove him off your lap, hastily getting up to your feet to leave him behind.

"Wait! Prefect, I said wait!" You feel a hand on your wrist, twirling you back to face the redhead. Ace bites onto his lower lip, unable to keep the red from flooding his cheeks. "I really just said all that mean stuff to get the prince off your back, you know? I didn't think you'd take it so seriously."

And when he sees that smirk creeping up onto your features, he groans as he leans in closely into your space.

"Now look at what you've done! You had me all panicked over what?" You feel his breath tickling your lips, followed by the way his hands crawl up your neck to cradle your jaw.

"If you just wanted a kiss, you could've asked..."

Happy Valentine's Day!

This is it. The moment of truth. The battlefield of love. The ultimate test of your skills in both confectionery and courage.

You stare at the neatly wrapped heart-shaped box in your hands, feeling a mix of pride and sheer, unfiltered terror. This is foolproof. Probably. Maybe.

You did research. You measured everything to the gram. You taste-tested until you were absolutely sure it wouldn’t poison anyone—or worse, taste mediocre.

And now, after all the agonizing effort spent whisking, tempering, decorating, and debating whether your handwriting was too ugly for the gift tag, the only thing left to do… is actually give it to someone.

Easy, right?

…Right?

You swallow hard, gripping the box a little tighter as you scan the campus, heart pounding like you’re about to face a final boss.

Now—who are you going to give it to?

Heartslabyul

Savanaclaw

Octavinelle

Scarabia

Pomefiore

Ignihyde

Diasomnia

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

Hiii!! first time requesting and I absolutely love your white rabbit and angel one, but what about a jellyfish mc with the octavinelle trio and diasomnia group? Where their head empty an airhead but is actually really smart but gets distracted easily.

Octavinelle + Diasomnia with Airhead! Jellyfish! Reader

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was prepared for almost anything—except you. At first, your airheaded nature confounded him. You’d stare blankly into space during conversations, occasionally blurting out unrelated thoughts like, “Do you think stars get lonely?” or “What’s the difference between squid ink and octopus ink?”

To Azul, you seemed like an easy mark. Someone too scattered to notice loopholes in contracts or the fine print. But the first time he tried to rope you into a deal, you stared at the contract for an uncomfortably long time, then pointed out five contradictory clauses and suggested a more efficient way to write it.

Azul had never been so humiliated yet so intrigued. How could someone so spacey also be so sharp? He began inviting you to the Mostro Lounge under the guise of needing “assistance,” but it was just an excuse to pick your brain.

He’d grumble when you got distracted mid-conversation to follow a particularly shiny object, but he found himself watching you with a mix of exasperation and fondness. Your unconventional intelligence challenged him, and your whimsical nature softened the edges of his ambition.

Jade Leech

Jade found your airheadedness endlessly entertaining. At first, he mistook it for naivety, but when you casually corrected one of his mushroom classifications while admiring a random shell, he realized there was much more to you.

You fascinated him. The way your attention flitted from one thing to another like a butterfly, yet you still managed to come up with solutions to problems no one else could. Jade often tested your intelligence by subtly steering conversations into complex topics, only for you to surprise him with insightful answers delivered in the most absentminded tone.

“Jade, did you know the anglerfish has a symbiotic relationship with bacteria for its light?” you’d say, staring off into the distance. And just like that, Jade’s carefully laid plan to throw you off would unravel.

He enjoyed the unpredictability you brought into his life. Your head-empty demeanor paired with startling intelligence kept him on his toes, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Floyd Leech

“Oh, Shrimpy’s got no brain cells, huh?” That was Floyd’s first impression of you, and for a while, he treated you like his personal amusement. He’d throw random questions your way just to see what absurd answer you’d come up with.

But the day you absentmindedly explained the physics behind the Mostro Lounge’s faulty pipe system and how to fix it? Floyd was floored. His mouth hung open for a good five seconds before he burst out laughing. “You’re a sneaky little jellyfish, aren’t ya?”

From then on, Floyd decided you were his favorite. He’d sling an arm around your shoulders and drag you around, showing you off like his prize catch. “Shrimpy’s dumb-smart,” he’d declare to anyone who’d listen, grinning ear to ear.

He loved how unpredictable you were, never knowing if you’d say something brilliant or completely off-the-wall. Floyd thrived on chaos, and you were the perfect mix of calm airhead and hidden genius to keep him entertained. He might tease you endlessly, but deep down, he adored you for being unapologetically yourself.

Malleus Draconia

When Malleus first met you, he found your airheaded nature oddly calming. Unlike others, you didn’t seem intimidated by his presence. Instead, you’d blink at him in wide-eyed wonder before blurting out random thoughts like, “If dragons hoard treasure, do they also have snack stashes?”

At first, Malleus assumed your absentmindedness was due to a lack of understanding. But during one of your meandering conversations, you casually corrected his misconceptions about a historical event—one even he hadn't noticed. He realized you weren’t just carefree; you were deeply knowledgeable in your own peculiar way.

Your ability to switch between whimsical musings and sharp observations fascinated him. He found himself seeking you out for your unique perspective, even if you occasionally got distracted by a passing butterfly mid-discussion.

“Child of Man, you are quite… unique,” he’d say with a soft smile, finding solace in your unorthodox approach to life.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia thought you were adorable. Your head-empty demeanor reminded him of the carefree youths he’d seen in his centuries of life. He’d often pop out of nowhere to startle you, laughing when you gasped and then immediately got distracted by a question like, “Why is it called a jump scare if I didn’t jump?”

But it didn’t take long for Lilia to notice the flashes of brilliance hidden behind your seemingly aimless chatter. You’d drop profound insights into conversations as if they were afterthoughts, leaving him pleasantly surprised.

“Oh-ho! You’re sharper than you let on, aren’t you?” he’d tease, ruffling your hair affectionately.

He loved how unpredictable you were, and he often encouraged your tangents just to see where your mind would wander. To Lilia, you were a delightful enigma—one that made his long life all the more entertaining.

Silver

Silver appreciates your calm presence, even if he sometimes struggled to keep up with your wandering thoughts. He’d sit quietly as you mused about the stars or wondered if birds dream, finding your voice soothing no matter how odd the topic.

He initially thought you were simply a kind but scatterbrained individual. However, when you offhandedly helped him improve his sword stance with an unexpectedly insightful comment, he realized there was more to you than met the eye.

“You notice things most people overlook,” he said, his tone soft with admiration. From then on, he started paying closer attention to your words, knowing they often carried hidden wisdom.

Silver respected your unique way of thinking and found comfort in your presence, even when you got distracted mid-sentence. To him, you were a gentle yet brilliant soul, someone who brought unexpected light into his life.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was baffled by you. At first, he couldn’t fathom how someone so easily distracted could survive at Night Raven College, much less so many Overblots. He’d often lecture you, only for you to nod absentmindedly and then ask something completely unrelated, like, “Do crocodiles ever get lonely?”

It drove him up the wall. He thought you lacked focus, which was unacceptable to him. But then, during a heated argument about magical theory, you calmly pointed out a flaw in his reasoning that left him speechless.

Sebek stared at you, wide-eyed, before clearing his throat and crossing his arms. “Hmph! I see you’re not as oblivious as you appear,” he muttered, trying to mask his begrudging respect.

Despite his initial frustrations, Sebek grew to admire your hidden intelligence. He’d still scold you for your airheaded tendencies, but deep down, he appreciated your unique perspective and the unexpected wisdom you brought to the table.

Masterlist