“ He Is Half My Soul ”

Malleus Draconia ༉⋆｡˚

You made him a blackened gold ring with emeralds carved into the shape of dragon wings wrapping around his finger, the stones shimmering with a deep green light.

Malleus stares at it for a long, long moment when you gift it to him, amazed. Malleus traced the metalwork with a reverent expression, his usual stoicism softening into something fond.

He will never take it off — he wore it during nighttime walks in Briar Valley, letting the moonlight reflect off the gemstones.

Leona Kingscholar ༉⋆｡˚

You make Leona a solid gold bracelet with a subtle lion motif engraved around it. You also embed a small sunstone that gleams warm like the Savannah sun.

Leona gives you a lazy smirk when you present it, but his tail would swish happily behind him. “Spoilin’ me now, huh?” But deep down? He’s deeply proud you made something so meaningful just for him.

He starts wearing it everywhere. And if anyone asks about it, he smirks, “Custom. You wouldn’t get it.”

Jamil Viper ༉⋆｡˚

You design him a thin gold chain bracelet with tiny ruby and onyx beads woven in a serpent-like pattern—minimalist but striking.

When you handed it to him, he hesitated before taking it. Shocked that you noticed his style preferences so perfectly. He rubs his thumb over it whenever he’s stressed.

He’d also get super protective of it. Anyone who tries to touch or ask about it gets that sharp, guarded look.

Silver ༉⋆｡˚

You create for Silver a simple silver pendant shaped like a crescent moon with a small diamond star hanging beside it. The design is clean, dreamlike, almost like something out of a fairytale.

Silver looks at you like you just gifted him the most precious thing in the world. He wears it always—even when sleeping. Claiming it helped him feel connected to you even when far away.

Lilia noticed and would occasionally smirk knowingly, but Silver always just smiled faintly in return.

Vil Schoenheit ༉⋆｡˚

You made him a mirror-backed brooch framed in delicate rose-gold filigree, set with an oval-cut amethyst at its heart. The mirror was small — more of a symbolic touch.

The craftsmanship was flawless, every gem positioned to catch light at just the right angle. When you presented it, Vil studied it with an appraising eye, but instead of critiquing, he smiled.

He praised, pinning it immediately to his coat. The brooch appeared in multiple of his public photos afterward, with fans speculating about its origin. He never clarified, but whenever someone asked about it directly, his lips curved into the faintest smile before he changed the subject.

Though he didn't understand fully what this sort of thing could do for him, he was flattered nonetheless. The gift was clearly handmade by you, and though you had no clue that protection wasn't exactly something he needed from a mere child of man... he decided that he would treasure this gift for a long time to come.

"I know, I know. You have your own magic that you can use. But I just... I felt like since we were getting along so well, it was important to me that your energy had a little extra boost. Magic powers aside, even just being around someone without your best intentions can risk draining you." You explained, suddenly beginning to feel a bit silly. You've seen this man literally pop in front of your dorm without even a single wave of his pen, what made you think he wouldn't see your gift as a way to mock him?

However, the sound of a low chuckle ripped you from your thoughts, and when you looked back up you could see a genuine smile forming on the horned man's features.

"I see. So then this is the magic from your world. How fascinating..." his eyes curiously flickered over to you. "Your magic is more intention based. You believe it to be, and so it shall be. That seems much more difficult than what many of the mages here do."

You opened your mouth to protest, dismissively waving your hands in embarrassment. You wouldn't say it was more difficult by any stretch, everyone at this school worked so hard for what they have today. That's no different from you.

But before you could reply, he was already placing the jar into the pocket of his jacket.

"It would be improper of me to treat this gift as nothing more than a curiosity. I will carry your jar with me, and see for myself how effective it proves." His gaze shifted into something teasing, and you couldn't help the wave of nervousness wash over you.

Dividers by priestboy

Do not steal or use my work for ai purposes. I will eat you.

Uh-oh!  Your  plans  go  awry  right  in  the  midst  of  your  semester  when  the  headmage  insists  you  all  opt  for  joining  a   club.  You  want  to  lay  low,  but  your  grade  depends  on  your  extracurricular  activities,  so  poor  little  you  has  to  drag  yourself  out  of  your  spot  by  a  random,  murky  tree  and  comply. In  the  distance,  you  hear  Yuu  pick  the  basketball  club,  ever  so  happy  with  their  ragtag  bunch  of  companions. 

As  the  twisted  breeze  whistles  past  your  face,  you  find  yourself  at  a  stalemate:  wavering  between  the  clubs  labeled film studies  and  mountain  lovers;  the  only  clubs having  a  single  member.  You  vacillate  between  Vil  and  Jade;  and  from  what  you  can  remember,  neither  of  them  are  much  fun.  Though  it’s  clear  you  don’t  have  to  exert  yourself  over  it  much  longer,  because  when  a random  boy  bumps  by  you,  ink  blots  and  smudges  out  the  ways  of  the  mountains, already deciding your fate for you.

The meeting spot is somewhere behind somewhere, you keep your head down all the while, even as the silence flourishes into thickness, even as the man of your nightmares sits silently at the far end and grins that cathedral of sharp teeth, just shy of crushing your spirit.

“A member?” Suave as he is, you don’t miss the glister of disappointment in his eyes (expecting someone else, someone named Yuu). Jade is far prettier in person, but you don’t dwell on it for long. “How unexpected.”

He does not deign to ask your name, a reason for gratitude, and so your woebegone, mundane routine continues. You find his composed and charming exterior belies his passion for mushrooms beneath, and it becomes a habit of yours to put an end to him prating before he’s left unchecked forevermore. He rewards you with a cool chuckle, streaks of noctilucent teal slanting along with the tilt of his head. It’s all rehearsed, isn’t it? Jade, even when he acknowledges you, couldn’t be any more robotic.

“During my usual trek,” Jade explains, lashes dipping towards a pale cluster of such umbrella-shaped bodies. “I happened to come across these earlier. You’ll find they grow in peculiar places.”

“Everything here grows in peculiar places,” The forest scent floods your nose as you breathe in. “That’s kind of the brand.”

Jade’s smile does not falter. “How delightfully pragmatic.”

You reach out and poke one of the mushrooms. It yields under your finger, the texture oh-so real, even as it springs back. Vaguely recalling a bad ending recalling spores, you add: “Don’t eat that.”

“I hadn’t intended to,” he replies, and you don’t miss the flicker of surprise coursing through his mismatched gaze. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say the reaction was authentic. “Though I appreciate your concern.”

“It’s not concern,” You turn away, and Jade’s stare scorches the fabric of your clothes. Moisture-laden grass squelches beneath the accidentally aggressive tempo of your boots, and you hope he doesn’t store the sound away as emotion. “If you die, I have to find a new club.”

When your ears crane for the sound of his approaching footsteps, you get a soft chuckle in its stead.

“How reassuring. I shall endeavor to remain alive, then.”

And to think he still doesn’t know your name.

That’s how your days go, and that’s all they’ll be limited to. On Tuesday, you take a tour of Main Street again, and find the eel inexorably staring at the visage of the prefect, so vehemently absorbed in his thoughts as they chatter off to someone faceless. You move, and Jade does not, staying true to the script. You almost feel bad, until the bell rings and you’re forced to take another lesson of flight, listening to Vargas yammer and run his mouth. Strangely so, even the teacher is not privy to your name. How delightfully pragmatic. In turn, you find yourself foraking your duties to Jade’s mushroom lineage.

“Evading your club activities?” You flinch awake from your near nap, head lolling to the side. The familiar voice somehow chimes in even as you sink into the shadows. Jade must be passing by, you think, there’s no other reason he’d willingly approach you. “Dare I ask, are you perhaps displeased with me?”

“Nah.” You quirk a brow at him. Displeased? Of what? “Just needed a break.”

“Ah.” The corners of his lips unravel to reveal that pointy smile you hate. “That certainly eases my worries.”

Standing up, you shrug off your drowsiness. But just as you move — snip — your foot catches on the edge of the bench, and you’re sent headfirst into the ground.

“Careful,”

A firm hold seizes your arm. Bleary-eyed, you blink up at Jade in a daze, the sunlight pooling over the panes of his complexion. “I would hate for my only club member to injure themselves.”

“Your only club member would hate that too.”

A small incline of his head.

“How fortunate we are in our alignment.”

He releases you, the pressure ebbs away as his tall stature’s reduced to a tiny little speck in your vision.

On Wednesday, you willingly skip out on the club meeting and decide to hone your flight skills once more. You catch sight of the prefect sauntering off elsewhere, and trailing after them is one more anomaly. Surprisingly so, Jade does not approach you again, a confirmation that he had not indeed sought after you yesterday. It was more so a twist of fate, and you wonder if he’s already occupied in seeking the prefect out.

Nevertheless, you digress. You abide by your flight class regulations. Until, well... something bonks you over the head and you get a concussion.

“Ah—! Wait, wait, are you okay?!”

There’s a face above you now, bright and frantic and entirely too close. Sunlight halos his warm visage, and the red pools cast your own likeness back at you.

“I didn’t see you! You just kind of— appeared— no, that sounds like I’m blaming you, I’m not blaming you— are you hurt?!”

You blink once, wondering if you should offer formalities to your housewarden.

“…You hit me with a broom.”

“Yes! No— I mean— I did, but not on purpose!”

“…That doesn’t make it better.”

“I know!! I’m sorry!”

You soothe his worries, and he seems ever so desperate to call for Jamil and seek the aid of someone more well-versed in... well, whatever this is. He doesn’t know what to do, you tell yourself, and somehow, that’s how you find yourself back at Scarabia as Kalim accompanies you to the building, fussing over you and the growing bruise on your temple.

Kalim hands you tea, atypical of him even in the absence of his other companion. The padded seats have you all warm and comfortable, and soon enough, you find yourself lost in a one-sided conversation entirely (deprived of something as normal as this for a long, long time).

“You look kind of familiar,” He smiles and your shoulders loosen. “Have we met before?”

“You’re my housewarden.”

“Ohh! That’s why!” The touch of happiness is not scrubbed off his face, even at the tip of your bluntness. It’s a pretty smile, you think.

“Yup..”

“Yes!” He mimics. “I’m Kalim Al-Asim! Oh— wait, I should’ve started with that, sorry— what’s your name?”

You freeze.

A simple, harmless, entirely normal question, yet you find yourself prodding for its reason all the more.

“…Why?”

He blinks.

“Why…? Because I just hit you with a broom.”

“That’s not usually when people ask.”

“Well, I feel like I should know who I’m apologizing to! That’s just polite!”

The locker room buzzed with overlapping noises - laughter, shouted calls, the sharp snap of lockers closing. The air was thick with sweat and anticipation, the kind that clung to your skin before a real match. My hands were shaking and clammy as I tried to recount the tactic one last time before the game. This was the first time I got the chance to be in the starting lineup and I couldn’t mess this up. 

Beyond the walls, the roar of the crowd swelled, bleeding into the room in waves. The bell rang, cutting through everything at once.

We moved.

The team filed out together, boots scraping, magic flickering faintly in the air. The noise only grew louder as we stepped onto the field, the stands already alive.

Up ahead, our housewarden walked at the front. His head held high and his steps steady while I felt like the pressure was eating me alive.

The referee’s whistle split the air.

The game began.

It had only been a few minutes, but the game was already suffocating. Magic cracked through the air, players streaking past in blurs of color and wind, the pressure pressing in from every direction at once. 

The disc burned hot against my palm when it came to me, barely steady for a second before I hurled it toward Leona Kingscholar. He caught it effortlessly but something immediately felt off. 

His head was tilted slightly, gaze cast over his shoulder, not at the field, not at any of us, but toward the audience stands. A chill crept down my spine. Why there? I spared a glance past him in that split second, scanning for anything out of place. An opponent slipping through? A hidden play forming? But there was nothing, just rows of spectators, indistinct and noisy, exactly as they should be.

Then Leona moved, and the disc shot straight up into the sky, cutting clean through the air in a near-perfect vertical line until it vanished into the clouds. 

For a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. That wasn’t part of the plan. My mind scrambled, flipping through every tactic we had reviewed, every signal, every formation. Nothing matched. Had I missed something? Or had he seen something none of us did and adjusted on the spot? That would be just like him, but then why wasn’t he moving? I waited for the follow-up, for him to shift position, to command us into something new, but he didn’t. Leona remained exactly where he was, hovering in place, gaze still fixed on the stands as if the match unfolding around him had nothing to do with him at all.

The rest of us didn’t have that luxury. Players surged upward, both teams scrambling toward where the disc would fall. Magic flared and bodies collided mid-flight in a desperate attempt to predict its descent. The formation broke, reformed, broke again in the chaos, but Leona didn’t even look up. 

Frustration coiled tight in my chest, sharp and disorienting. What was he doing? The question barely had time to settle before a streak tore through the clouds. Ruggie. He snatched the disc cleanly out of the air and dove straight for the goal, slipping past the disoriented defenders before they could even react. 

Score. 

The tension snapped all at once, my breath rushing out of me in a shaky exhale. Right. Of course. This had been intentional. Leona had seen it from the start, set it up before any of us realized. This was his tactic, and I’d simply been too slow to understand.

Even as the thought settled, something about it refused to sit right. I glanced back at him, and for a fleeting moment, his expression shifted. The tension in his shoulders eased, something unspoken loosening in the set of his posture. He looked… relieved. And there, just for an instant, the faintest hint of a smile touched his lips. It vanished as quickly as it appeared. 

His brow furrowed, his gaze sharpened, and in the next heartbeat he moved, cutting cleanly back into position at the center of the formation, directing the flow of the game with absolute control. As if he had never looked away at all.

The rest of the game dissolved into a blur of motion and noise. The wind roared past my ears as I chased the disc again and again. I had never felt anything like this. My chest tight, my limbs buzzing with a constant tremor that refused to settle.

When the referee’s whistle split the air, my heart was slamming hard against my ribs to the point I felt like my heart was about to burst straight out of my chest. Hands clapped against my back, voices shouted over one another, and before I could process it, I was already being swept along with the team back into the locker room.

The space was thick with noise and heat - laughter, shouting, the sharp smell of sweat and magic hanging heavy in the air. Arms slung over my shoulders, someone yelling right next to my ear, everything blending into a dizzying rush that made it hard to think.

And yet, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leona slip out of the room. The contrast was jarring enough to cut through the haze. I pulled myself free from the celebration, muttered a quick excuse, and followed after him.

He turned the corner, and I quickened my steps. But I stopped short when I saw someone waiting at the far end of the hallway.

They stood still, a white cane folded loosely in one hand, dark glasses resting over their eyes. Their head tilted slightly at the sound of approaching footsteps.

Leona walked straight toward them. And for a second, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. Leona closed the distance in a few long strides, his hand settling at the small of their back, drawing them closer. He leaned down and pressed a brief kiss to their forehead. They smiled immediately, leaning into him as if they had been waiting for that exact touch.

Were they… his lover?

I slipped back behind the corner, peering out just enough to watch.

“You played so well,” they said, voice warm and certain. “The commentator couldn’t stop talking about you.”

Leona huffed, flicking their forehead. “Of course, who do you think I am? But you shouldn’t sit so close to the goal. There’s a barrier but anything might’ve happened. A disk could’ve hit your head and made you stupider than you already are.”

They chuckled, rubbing their forehead before tapping his stomach with the cane in retaliation. “And how would you know where I sat? I didn’t tell you.”

Leona clicked his tongue, swatting the cane aside, but there was no real force behind it. “I have my ways.”

They hummed, unconvinced but amused, their hand briefly catching the edge of his sleeve. The scene started feeling too private for me, so I slipped away, retreating back toward the locker room as quietly as I could.

While contemplating about why I hadn’t heard that Leona had a blind lover before, a fist slammed down onto my head.

“The fuck?!” I snapped, jerking upright, only to freeze when meeting Leona’s glare.

“Cut your stalking habit,” he growled at me, then slipped back into the noise of the others. Okay, maybe keeping my mouth shut was the better idea.

Two weeks later, I pulled up the match recording, hoping to pick up something from the seniors.

The game played out just as I remembered - fast, overwhelming, impossible to keep up with. Then it reached Leona’s strange move. 

The disc shot straight into the sky, vanishing into the clouds. The camera swept across the stands to catch the crowd’s reaction.

Row after row of faces tilted upward. Everyone looked up, following the disk. Except one. Right behind the goal. They were still facing forward.

…Ah.

The sunlight softened, turning from bright gold to a lazy amber that spilled through the glass ceiling and caught on the broad leaves overhead. The warmth of the day lingered in the soil, in the grass, in the slow, steady weight of Leona’s body curled around you. Somewhere nearby, water trickled over stone into the small pond at the edge of the clearing, quiet enough that it became part of the silence. 

Part 1 | Part 2

By the time the afternoon slipped toward evening, the botanical garden had grown drowsy.

You woke up a while ago but decided to join the silence. Not because you had run out of things to say, but because Leona’s breathing still evened out, deep and slow, and you had decided that disturbing a sleeping lion beastman while you were still bite-sized was probably one of the few bad ideas you didn’t need to personally test.

Leona had his head pillowed on one arm, eyes closed, expression faintly annoyed even in rest. But the rest of him had remained arranged around you with suspiciously deliberate care. His arm blocked one side of the clearing. His chest and shoulder formed another warm wall. His tail lay across your lap in a loose, heavy curve, keeping you from wandering off.

You had accepted this with dignity for approximately fifteen minutes. A new record. After that, boredom won.

At first, you only ran your hands through the dark tuft of his tail, fascinated by how soft it was compared to the irritated, dangerous person attached to it. Then you braided a tiny section of it. Then you unbraided it because the braid looked terrible. Then you tried to count the individual strands, gave up at twenty-six, and decided instead that the tail was now a mountain range and your knees were trapped under a very fluffy landslide.

Leona slept through all of it.

“You’re a very strict jailer,” you whispered to the tail.

The tail twitched.

You froze.

Leona did not wake.

Slowly, you relaxed again, patting the tuft as if soothing it. “Sorry.”

For a while, you watched his face. It was strange, seeing him from this size. Everything about him was familiar and unfamiliar at once. The slope of his nose, the sharp line of his lashes, the scar cutting over his left eye, the faint part of his lips where one fang barely showed. Usually, when you stared at him for too long, he would crack open one eye and call you nosy. Now, with him asleep and you too small to be immediately noticed, you had the rare privilege of looking as much as you wanted.

He looked calmer like this.

You smiled to yourself and leaned back against the side of his hand, which had remained close beside you even after he fell asleep. His fingers were relaxed in the grass, warm and broad, one of them near enough that you could rest your shoulder against it. It made you feel ridiculously safe.

The garden hummed around you. Leaves rustled. The pond murmured. Leona breathed.

At first, it was only a shift in the ground beneath you - a low, sleepy rumble that came from Leona’s chest as he stirred. Then the tail over your lap slid away, dragging gently over your legs. You pushed yourself upright just as Leona exhaled a rough, waking breath.

The entire world moved.

His shoulder rolled. His arm stretched. His tail swept across the grass in a lazy arc as he stretched out the stiffness from his nap.

Unfortunately, you were still very small.

“Leona-!”

The tuft of his tail caught you squarely in the side.

It didn’t hurt. But it still had enough force behind it to scoop you off your feet and send you tumbling across the grass like a dropped spool of thread. The world spun green, gold, green, sky, grass, Leona’s startled eyes, grass again. You bounced once over a root, rolled through a patch of clover, and let out a tiny, undignified yelp as the slope of the clearing betrayed you.

Leona was awake instantly.

His ears snapped up. His eyes went sharp. “Herbivore!”

You rolled faster.

“I’m okay!” you called automatically.

“You’re rolling into the pond!”

That, admittedly, sounded less okay.

You tried to grab a blade of grass. It bent. You tried another. It snapped. You flailed, caught a fallen leaf, rode it for half a second like a very poor sled, and then lost it when the ground dropped away near the pond’s edge.

Leona lunged.

For once, he wasn’t fast enough. You slipped over the mossy bank with a small splash.

Cold water closed over you.

At your normal size, the pond was shallow enough to stand in. At your current size, it might as well have been a lake. You surfaced with a gasp, hair plastered to your face, arms paddling wildly as ripples spread out around you. A lily pad floated nearby, enormous and green, and you grabbed onto it with both hands before the water could pull you farther from the bank.

Above you, Leona skidded to a stop at the pond’s edge, one hand already reaching down.

His face had gone pale beneath his warm complexion. “Don’t move,” he ordered.

You coughed, blinking water from your eyes. “I don’t think I can move very fast anyway.”

“This ain’t the time to joke.”

“I wasn’t joking. My shoes are heavy.”

His jaw clenched. He lowered his hand closer, palm open, fingers spread with careful precision. “Grab on.”

You reached for him at once.

And then the potion wore off.

There was no warning. No sparkle, no pleasant little puff of magic, no polite sensation of being restored to your original size. One second, you were clinging to the edge of a lily pad with Leona’s hand looming above you. The next, the world snapped violently back into proportion.

The lily pad vanished beneath your weight. The pond surged up around your waist.

Leona’s hand, which had been reaching for a miniature version of you, was suddenly much too close to your face. Your own hand, already stretched toward him, caught his arm instead of his finger. Both of you froze for a fraction of a second, equally startled by the sudden correction of distance.

Then your wet shoes slipped against the muddy pond floor.

You yelped and grabbed him harder. Leona’s eyes widened. “Don’t-”

You pulled.

It was not graceful.

Leona had been crouched too far forward, weight already shifted over the bank. Your sudden full-sized grip on his arm, combined with the slippery moss under his shoes, was enough to ruin whatever balance he might have saved. His ears flattened, his tail lashed, and for one beautiful, impossible second, Leona Kingscholar looked genuinely betrayed by physics.

Then he toppled into the pond.

The splash was enormous.

Water exploded upward, drenching the grass, the moss, the nearby flowers, and most importantly, you. You shrieked as the wave hit your face. Leona surfaced a second later, soaked from head to toe, dark hair plastered against his cheeks, uniform clinging heavily to his shoulders. His bangs hung over one eye. His ears were flattened against his head. His tail floated behind him in the water like a furious drowned rope.

Silence fell. You stared at him. He stared at you.

A drop of water slid from the end of his nose.

You pressed both hands over your mouth.

Leona’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t.”

Your shoulders shook.

“Herbivore.”

“I’m not-” Your voice cracked. “I’m not laughing.”

“You are.”

“I’m trying not to.”

“Try harder.”

You tried. You failed.

The laugh burst out of you bright and helpless, echoing through the warm evening air. You doubled over, one hand clutching your stomach, the other splashing weakly against the pond as you laughed so hard you almost slipped again. Leona’s expression darkened with every second, but that only made it worse. He looked so deeply offended, so royally insulted by the pond, by the potion, by you, by the entire concept of water, that you could not stop.

“You should see your face,” you gasped.

“I can see yours just fine.”

“You look like an angry wet cat.”

His ears twitched. You immediately knew you had made a mistake.

Leona moved. You squeaked and tried to retreat, but the pond slowed you down. He caught you easily by the waist and hauled you closer, water sloshing around both of you. You expected him to threaten you. Maybe flick your forehead. Maybe dunk you just enough to make a point.

Instead, he leaned in until his face was close to yours, dripping wet and dangerously calm.

“Say that again.”

You smiled, still breathless. “Angry wet lion?”

“That’s not better.”

“It’s the fact, though.”

His fingers tightened slightly at your waist. Not painful. Just enough to remind you that you were no longer tiny, and he was no longer forced to be gentle with two fingers and a prayer.

“You pulled me in.”

“You startled me.”

“You were the one who fell in first.”

“You hit me with your tail.”

“I was asleep.”

“You woke up violently.”

“I stretched.”

“You weaponized stretching.”

Leona stared at you. Then, slowly, despite himself, his mouth twitched. It was nearly invisible. But you caught it.

Your smile softened. “You were worried.”

The amusement vanished at once, replaced by a scowl. “You fell into a pond while you were small enough to drown in a teacup.”

“But I didn’t drown.”

“That ain’t the point.”

“I know.”

His eyes narrowed, you suspected that he didn’t believe you did know. You reached up and brushed a wet strand of hair from his cheek. It stuck stubbornly to your fingers before falling back into place. “I really am okay.”

Leona was quiet for a moment. His gaze moved over your face, your shoulders, your hands. Only after he seemed satisfied did some of the tension bleed out of him. His grip at your waist loosened, though he didn’t let go.

“You’ve said that all day,” he muttered.

“And I’ve been right all day.”

“You were tiny, nearly sat on, almost drowned in orange juice, rolled down a hill, and fell into a pond.”

“But I survived.”

“You’re stupid.”

“You’ve said that all day too.”

“You keep earning it.”

You laughed again, softer this time, and the sound seemed to do something to him. His scowl remained, but his eyes eased. The sunset caught on the pond behind him, turning the water gold around his shoulders. He looked irritated, soaked, tired, but unfairly beautiful.

You became aware, all at once, that his hands were still on your waist.

The pond water lapped quietly around you. Somewhere overhead, the glass ceiling glowed orange with the last light of day. You were both dripping wet, your uniforms ruined, your hair plastered to your faces, and the entire afternoon had gone so far off course that it was almost impressive.

You smiled first. “I’ve said this too, but thanks for coming to get me today.”

Leona scoffed, but it lacked heat. “Didn’t have much choice. You stopped answering your messages.”

“I was busy being mini.”

“Bad excuse.”

“I’ll text next time I get shrunk.”

“There better not be a next time.”

“No promises.”

His eyes sharpened. “Herbivore.”

“I mean, I’ll try very hard not to get shrunk again.”

“Try harder than you tried not to climb the juice carton.”

“That was different.”

“It was not.”

“It had architectural appeal.”

Leona exhaled, long and suffering, but this time the sound ended almost like a laugh. His hands slid away from your waist as he turned toward the bank, wringing water from the end of his tail with a look of pure disgust.

You watched him, then glanced down at yourself. Your uniform clung to you. Your socks were soaked. There was probably pondweed on your sleeve. You reached up and pulled a small green leaf from your hair.

“Well,” you said brightly, “at least I’m normal-sized now.”

Leona looked back at you. A slow, sharp grin spread across his face.

You blinked. “What?”

“Means I don’t have to hold back anymore.”

Your eyes widened. “Leona-”

He splashed you. A full, deliberate sweep of water that hit you square in the chest and face. You gasped, scandalized, as he smirked with unmistakable satisfaction.

“That was revenge.”

You wiped water from your eyes. “You are so petty.”

“You earned it.”

“You fell in because you have bad balance.”

“You fell in because you’re a menace.”

“You hit me with your tail!”

“You called me an angry wet cat.”

“I corrected it to lion!”

“Didn’t matter.”

You stared at him for one second. Then you splashed him back. The water struck his shoulder and part of his face. It was not nearly as impressive as his splash, but it was enough to make his ears flick and his eyes narrow with renewed danger.

You pointed at him. “Don’t.”

He smiled. You turned and tried to scramble toward the bank, slipping in the mud almost immediately. Leona caught you by the back of your uniform before you could faceplant into the pond a second time.

“Still clumsy at full size,” he said.

You twisted around, laughing despite yourself. “That was the mud’s fault.”

“Everything’s got an excuse with you.”

“You still caught me.”

His expression shifted again, just slightly. “Yeah,” he said, quieter. “I did.”

The playfulness softened into something warmer. You stood there with his hand still gripping the back of your uniform, both of you soaked and ridiculous, and for once, you did not make a joke right away. You reached behind you and touched his wrist gently.

“I knew you would.”

Leona’s gaze dropped to your hand. For a moment, he looked almost annoyed by how easily you said it. As if your trust was another troublesome thing he had to carry. Then he clicked his tongue and tugged you toward the bank.

“Come on. Before you find another way to drown in knee-deep water.”

You let him guide you out, though your shoes slipped twice and he had to steady you both times. By the time you reached the grass, the sun had disappeared completely down the horizon, painting the garden in shadow. Leona climbed out after you with considerably more grace, though the wet slap of his tail against the grass ruined some of the dignity.

Your lips twitched. He gave you a warning look. You pressed your lips together.

“Not a word,” he said.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I think many things.”

“Most of them are bad ideas.”

You grinned, standing there with your uniform dripping steadily onto the grass. Water ran from your sleeves, down your fingers, and gathered in little dark spots beneath your shoes. Leona looked no better. His hair clung to his jaw, his shirt stuck to his shoulders, and his tail hung behind him in a heavy, offended line.

You shivered and sneezed. Leona clicked his tongue and stepped closer, lifting one hand. “Honestly,” he muttered. “Can’t even fall into a pond properly.”

You blinked up at him. “There’s a proper way to fall into a pond?”

“Yeah. Don’t.”

“That sounds more like not falling into a pond.”

“Look at you. Finally learning.”

A faint shimmer of magic gathered around his fingers. You felt it before you saw the full spell take shape: a dry, gentle heat rolling over your skin, like standing in a patch of sun after rain. The water clinging to your uniform lifted in tiny silver wisps, evaporating from your sleeves, your skirt, your hair. Dampness vanished from your socks and shoes. Even the pondweed stuck to your cuff dried and curled until you could pluck it off with two fingers.

You stared down at yourself, impressed. “You could’ve done that the whole time?”

Leona gave you a flat look. “You think I was planning to walk back soaked because it builds character?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you wanted to look dramatic.”

“I don’t need pond water for that.”

The spell shifted, circling back toward him. His hair dried first, dark strands loosening from his face and falling back into their usual shape. His uniform followed, the wet fabric smoothing out as the moisture vanished. Last was his tail, which puffed slightly as the magic passed over it.

He sighed as he noticed you staring. “Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were saying enough with how your eyes burn through my tail.”

“It got fluffier.”

His tail snapped behind him, immediately trying to smooth itself down through sheer force of pride. You covered your mouth with both hands and his eyes narrowed. “Laugh and I’m throwing you back in.”

A tiny sound escaped you.

“Herbivore.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, though your shoulders were shaking. “It’s just- your tail-”

“Finish that sentence carefully.”

“It’s very majestic.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“It’s majestically fluffy.”

Leona stared at you for one long second before reaching out and flicking your forehead. You yelped and jumped back, grabbing at the spot. “Ow!”

“That was for the wet cat comment.”

“I corrected it to lion!”

“Too late.”

“You’re so petty.”

“And you’re alive because I’m petty enough to keep dragging you out of trouble.”

The teasing smile softened on your face before you could stop it. Leona seemed to realize what he had said at the same time you did, because his expression shifted faintly, irritation returning too quickly to be entirely natural.

You reached up and touched his wrist.

“I knew you would.”

Leona looked down at your hand, then at your face. For a moment, the garden went quiet around you, warm with sunset and the lingering trace of his magic in the air. Then he clicked his tongue and looked away. “Don’t say stuff like that so easily.”

“Why?”

“Because.” His tail flicked once, still a little puffier than usual. “You make it sound like I’m responsible for you.”

You smiled. “Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“You came to get me.”

“You were causing problems.”

“You carried me.”

“You were tiny.”

“You guarded me.”

“You kept trying to climb things.”

“You dried me off.”

“You sneezed.”

“You worried.”

Leona’s eyes cut back to you.

You smiled brighter.

He leaned down, close enough that his shadow fell over you again, and gave you a slow, sharp grin. “Keep pushing it, and next time I’ll let you stay pocket-sized.”

“You liked me pocket-sized.”

“I liked that you were easier to keep in one place.”

“That means you liked me pocket-sized.”

“It means you’re a pain at any size.”

You laughed, and this time Leona did not bother pretending he hated the sound. He only straightened, rolling one shoulder as the last of the spell-light faded from his fingers. And when he turned back toward the path, his tail fell into its usual place, curling behind you. 

You leaned closer, bumping your shoulder lightly against his arm. “Well, you’re stuck with this pain.”

Leona didn’t answer. But he didn’t move away either.

The two of you left the botanical garden soaked, muddy, and late for whatever responsibility you had left. Behind you, the pond settled back into stillness, the grass slowly straightened where you had rolled through it, and the last of the sunlight slipped through the glass ceiling like the garden itself was keeping the secret. And every time the path turned uneven beneath your feet, his tail was there, hovering close behind you, ready to catch you before you fell.

He also likes to hang things on your antlers, using you as a living coatrack as a tease as well, which scares you half to death whenever he throws a actual coat at you.

But sometimes when he’s feeling extra affectionate and wants to spoil you, he’ll decorate them with jewelry.

Ruggie

Ruggie thinks you’re a cute little thing, squealing running away from your own shadow whenever it gets ‘too big’.

He’s also witnessed you jump in fear at your own reflection in the mirror an embarrassing amount of times.

And although he thinks it’s hilarious when you throw yourself into the ground over butterfly, he doesn’t mess with you as much as other people. You’re his partner and he loves you after all.

That doesn’t mean that he WON’T play little pranks on you every once in a while.

Sometimes, he likes to poke you in the side, making you do a weird combination of a snort and a shriek, or blow against the fluff of your ear, making you shudder.

Ruggie does feel extremely awful when something he does ends up leaving you in such a state of shock that you end up freezing up like a deer in headlights lol

He’ll wrap his arms around you, speaking to you softly, mostly apologizing and promising to make it up to you, until you finally relax and melt into his touch.

Jack

Jack thinks you’re one of the most endearing things he’s laid his eyes upon, not wanting to admit it, but it’s not that hard to tell.

Sometimes when you’re both alone, he’ll just come behind you and wrap you up in his arms, not before softly calling out your name though because unlike the others, he seriously doesn’t want to spook you.

He’d also be a little overprotective of you, not because he thinks you’re weak, but because one of his biggest fears is seeing you faint out of fear.

But sometimes, the things that startle you are so obviously harmless that he can’t help but stifle a laugh whenever you end up gasping over something like a dust bunny.

If it’s someone that’s trying to scare you on purpose, that’s a whole different story. He doesn’t like resorting to violence, but if it comes down to it, he’ll do anything to keep you safe.

Jack thinks your antlers are cool and admires them from time to time, he asks to put accessories on them, wanting to pamper and be soft with you as you’re the only one who breaks his ‘tough guy’ act.

Your fears start to lessen the more time the two of you spend dating, with Jack keeping you grounded and reassuring you there’s nothing to be afraid of.

Savanaclaw

Navia!yuu has been appointed being a private investigator for the school, if there's a mystery you know she's on the case. Having a strong sense of justice, she isn't easily persuaded by bribery. What caught people most off guard is that how strong she is, she is able to lift up an axe or a claymore with relative ease and as well as with graceful and heavy hitting movements as well as moving at an alarming speed, parkouriing even while holding her weapon.

Jack absolutely admired navia!yuu, her belief in justice and staying true to it is something Jack relates to. He would be there to defend navia!yuu if there's a rowdy student who wishes to cause trouble with her, jack sees navia!yuu as a big sister admiring her resilience and strength although he sometimes wishes that she would give him a warning every time she wants to fire her shotgun, Because his ears hurt.

Ruggie would not like navia!yuu, her hobbies of investigation and her tenacious nature bothers him because he's unable to get away from doing a scheme. Due to her fancy clothing and golden exterior he viewed her as someone who looks down on people like him and those people wouldn't understand his struggles, but after he was caught by her after he committed a petty crime– he thought he would be submitted to the headmaster but no navia!yuu decided to let it go and not report anything towards Crowley, this confuses him he thought that she was some wannabe but in reality even though shes wealthy–shes honest and humble.

Leona would stir wary over navia!yuu, he's fully aware of how sharp navia!yuu is to the point almost caught him in his schemes. He would be annoyed by navia!yuu, investigation of his schemes back in chapter 2 ended quickly because it was already obvious. Unlike his dormmates who would mock navia!yuu, Leona is fully aware of how strong she is– navia!yuu is able to Carry a claymore with ease as well as been trained marksmanship ever since she was little, and Leona would demand his dorm to respect navia!yuu because the reason she's not fighting is because she's holding back from acting.

Octavinelle

Many students admired navia!yuu leadership and follow her, she established a Spina di Rosula headquarters in ramshackle originally it was small only her and grim but through out the school day people are inspired by her elegance and sharp mind to the point that more students started to join her, Crowley originally didn't think much of it until navia!yuu started to expose some of his crimes for tax invasion. Students or ghost can hired Spina di rosula to solve and investigate any crime they requested. The school become more tame after this, but many would start to hate navia!yuu for exposing them, and their personal goal is to get rid of Spina di rosula by involving their noble families into it and them trying to bribe Crowley to dispend it but Spina di rosula is an independent club.

Azul would have a rivalry towards navia!yuu Spina di resosula, sure he might have hired them to discover a mystery towards a student or a crime happened–but he and navia!yuu is fighting to find who has the top spot on being called a mafia boss aesthetic, they have people who followed them but one is basically enslaving the school to serve while the other uses her charisma as a way to gain followers. He and navia would usually have tea together but people could tell it's filled with tension.

Jade would enjoy the show of navia!yuu chasing a random poor student across the school while parkouring in heels without breaking a sweat while ace and deuce followed behind her exhausted, he admired navia!yuu resilience and strength. Jade would treat navia!yuu like any other guest, and would occasionally enjoy the macarons she bakes.

Floyd would love how, navia!yuu parkour around the schools jumping from long distance and swinging in chandeliers. She is so cool, Floyd would want to join in these chase scenes and sometimes would purposely break the rules to be chased by navia!yuu .

Scarabia

The ghost are grateful for navia!yuu, because another duty for the Spina di Rosula is helping the Ghost. Navia!yuu optimistic and elegant nature have gained the favor of many staff and students. But behind that facade navia!yuu is struggling against issues of the school and Crowley irresponsible ways, unlike Fontaine who every citizens respect the law–NRC is the exact same opposite, Crowley would easily be bribe by nobles. Causing her more loss than wins, justice is not serve easily here–shes pretty sure Crowley is also against her. Navia!yuu is determined to serve justice that is fair but is hard when people are against it.

Kalim and navia!yuu would match each other's enthusiasm, both of them are charismatic and would get along naturally. Both of them are like all sunshine with a hint of underlying trauma and emotional scars, kalim would be amazed by her leadership and how strong she is even when faced with judgement and doubt from others, she keeps pushing herself.

Jamil would honestly just have a mutual relationship with navia!yuu both rarely interact but usually have a casual conversation together, even though navia!yuu is a socialite and is able to choose a comfortable life she decided to pick up a sword and fight for what is right and stay true to herself, honoring the wishes of her father with her this would make Jamil Respect navia!yuu then he admitted. Unlike those who are trying to bring her down who are from wealthy families, she herself came from a noble family and suffered more loss than them is still standing and more decent than the rest of them.

Pomifiore

Many would rely on the Spina di rosula for some petty crimes or just basically do errands, which frustrated navia!yuu alot but she keeps a resilient. Many students would admired and rely on navia!yuu as a big sister figure–the dorm who Adore her the most is pomifiore, her elegance, fashion and strength is all beautiful. Not to mention the way she parkour with heels is something jaw dropping for others even for vil.

Vil would approve of navia!yuu, her elegance, resilience, strength, determination to go uphold what is right reminded him of himself. Navia!yuu could easily choose to live with luxury and remain ignorant towards the injustice but she didn't, She chose to fight what is right even if the path is filled with struggles is admirable for vil. He also loves navia!yuu input elegance into her fighting style, fighting with elegance and beauty into one effective art–and that little bow after she fights is absolutely perfection. He is one of navia!yuus defenders from heart–to him navia!yuu embodies the rose to its core, beautiful and yet resilient and sharp just like the thorns of the flower. She would also land on the ground using her umbrella like merry Poppins.

Navia!yuu would also get along very well with rook, both of them would discuss the beauty of flowers and would have regular tea times with vil as well, where this trio would discuss beauty and elegance. Vil sometimes would invite navia!yuu to join pomifio but usually met with rejection, rook would cheer from afar for navia!yuu who is chasing somebody or trying to get to class. Imagine her getting to class by jumping around walls and ceilings of the school, navia!yuu is parkouring and passes a tree where rook is hiding to spy on leona and navia!yuu pass him a "good morning rook" and rook would respond back like it's a normal thing, he and navia!yuu also would go out and practice their marksmanship as well as rook complementing on her umbrella fire-arm calling it a combination of beauty and fire power.

Navia!yuu is the example of elegance that epel should follow, epel one time tried to lift navia!yuu claymore and literally cannot make it budge. How did navia!yuu make it look so easy and she's even to kick it without issue, as well as running in heels absolute brain malfunction towards epel. He's been asking for advice from her, and also joining the Goldie lock ( vil, rook and navia ) in tea parties, navia!yuu is freely to join Pomifiore whenever she likes, Epel is absolutely star struck when he learns that navia!yuu umbrella double as a shotgun and literally beg her to let him fire or use it.

Ignihyde

I like to think navia!yuu have some knowledge in engineering and she's the one that personally design her shot gun umbrella, she's the one design them and watch it closely on how it was made. So she's able the understand on how to fix her weapon, when ask why she choose to combine her weapon into an umbrella it was quite simple–navia!yuu want a weapon that is efficient, elegant and as well as not affecting her movements and aim.

Idia is quite curious on navia!yuu weapons saying it's something that would come out from a sci Fi movie, he would say that navia!yuu radiates a main character's energy and he also thinks she's a normie–imagine his surprises when she's into the same game he's into and even likes to roleplay, absolutely 180° reverse. Both of them suffer from grief and emotional scaring while idia isolated himself, navia!yuu decided to stay strong and continue. Idia envy how navia!yuu is able to overcome grief and as well as how resilience is she, even though he's too prideful to ask advice–navia!yuu can already sense it and would leave cryptic advice without making idia felt hopeless.

Ortho would absolutely see navia!yuu as a big sister, he's amazed by her inguinity and enthusiasm. She's extremely reliable and is willing to listen and not judge Ortho and as well as being supportive towards helping idia faced his troubles.

Disamonia

Navia!yuu can be described by people as a genuine and resilient person, no matter the struggles that is thrown at her she would face it head on, many would mock for her dreams then so be it– she will continue to move forward and honoring the people she loves dreams because that would what they wanted from her, many wouldnt be aware of how sharp navia!yuu is– she is able to see through people's facade and put to pieces of clues for a crime instantly, She is sharp and tenacious more than anyone at school able to notice the smallest details.

Well this is new for malleus, navia!yuu wouldn't approach malleus with fear but she approached him like a friend and even offered macarons and tea for him because it was cold at night for him, bold of her to think a draconic fae felt cold as humans. But nonetheless he enters the ramshackle dorm and instantly is welcomed with tea and macarons, both him and navia!yuu immersed themselves in a conversation of roses to the point they lost time and malleus had to return back before his retainers went to look for him this late. This became a normal occurrence for these both to enjoy tea and discuss, malleus is quite fond of how enthusiastic and chivalrous navia!yuu is.

Sebek would respect navia!yuu more than he likes to admit, he may think she's reckless and as well as out of control on how she moves around school–like who runs on walls just to get into class, but after overhearing on how people would look down and laugh at navia!yuu he grows respect for her wanting to achieve peace and justice even though people would make it hard for her and even doubt her, even when navia!yuu has no one to cheer for her she still keeps going which is something sebek can admire and as well as look up to, her being genuine to anyone is something overwhelming for him but he started to soften up to navia!yuu.

Silver would usually find navia!yuu too much, it's not a bad thing but her enthusiasm is something he cannot deal with. He does enjoy navia!yuu charisma and also Respect how she easily wields a claymore for weapon as well as her Mastery over her vision, navia!yuu would usually try to tone it down for silver to relax which is something he appreciated.

he hums in response, his hand moving to press firmly against your shoulder―gentle and steady―leaning down to blow gently over the marks, easing the burn before he does anything else.

your body tenses at the sensation, shoulders tight against your neck and your body shivering. leona just shushes you, lips barely touching your ear as his hand moves down to rub across the scratch.

"easy...i got you," he would whisper before going silent once again. his kisses are light, not like how they were last night. lips soft against your rough, aching skin.

when it comes to treating them, he doesn't bring you to the infirmary―no, he has ointments on stand by. reaching over to grab it from the drawers without having to be told, his brain immediately went into action. when he touches you again it's gentle, soft―tender. not teasing or lazy. just slow, careful strokes to the wound, stinging in a way that fades into a full warmth.

when you hiss at the sting, he presses his forehead between your shoulder blades. "m'sorry..." he mummers, and with leona, that word means something. the tone, the softness, the genuine guilt. once the ointment settles over the marks he gets tender again. kissing you once more, down your shoulders, your spine and back up again. he leaves a kiss, one by one, leaving it to linger before moving spots.

he'll mummer against your skin, but it's all muffled. some are just sleepy mummers while others "didn't mean to hurt you," before kissing you again.

his thumb traces circles on your hip, soothing the pain the best he can. your back, that was once sore and marked, now pressed against his chest―after the ointment does it job―snuggling his nose into the crook of your neck.

he stays like this with you for sevens know how long, tail flicking lazily at each twitch or movement you do, occasionally brushing against your leg.

he can't help but leave marks on you during the moment, but he always makes sure you feel cherished afterwards...to the best of his ability.

if you all couldn't tell, i really like leona.

𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐯𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝜗ৎ ― 2026

jack howl has always been a man of strong principles. someone who never shied away from making his opinions known even at the risk of offending or setting off those he once respected if he believed it was the right thing to do. the freshman that walked into his first day at savanaclaw and made very quick work of politely but firmly asserting his boundaries, and spent every day after that making sure that others knew not to cross them (a necessary part of surviving life in a dorm where strength is everything: if you aren’t firm enough you stand to be trodden on and disrespected, and that is something jack refuses to let happen)

and when the two of you officially became an item things kept on going much the same way — he established his boundaries, challenged and defeated anyone who made a point of sniffing around his business and his mate, and kept on being the same old stoic and principled freshman that they all knew him as… just now with a small and notably more friendly girlfriend at his side

so imagine the shock that his schoolmates experienced the first time someone overheard you calling jack — jack howl, the giant muscular wolf man — puppy

and imagine the shock when instead of arguing or shutting you down or ignoring you, jack’s ears just flicked back in a show of mild embarrassment as he responded to you normally. clipped and blunt as ever. no other sign beyond his ears that he even noticed what you called him

if literally anyone else had dared to address him like that he’d be flicking his ears back, baring his teeth, and growling out a warning by now — low and firm and more of a promise of what was to come if you continued to demean him with such a disgustingly cute word. because he’s not some kid, not some pup, and he has made it abundantly clear to everyone in his dorm that tried precisely how much he does not appreciate being called that

but you are the exception. expectedly so given that wolf beastmen like jack mate for life and he seems more than happy to settle down with you for the long haul

because you can call him whatever you want and he’ll respond the same: quickly, dutifully, and in a way that pretty much suggests that he was listening for your voice before you even thought about speaking up

how very loyal of him. cute

so call him your puppy, your cutie, your good boy, even, and once he’s had a moment to recover and adjust to the new term of endearment jack will respond to you — maybe even start wagging his tail in spite of his otherwise neutral demeanour if he likes a particular pet name more than the others

The wind whistled through the branches as dark clouds gathered, rustling into the hair of [Name]. He sat upon a stone bench in a park, reading a book. He was enraptured by a story of a fae king, residing deep within a valley of briar. The king and his fae citizens were ostracized from society after placing a curse on a royal baby, who would later disappear into hiding.

BONG…BONG…

The bell tower above struck, making him jump. Then, his eyes went wide as he realized what time it was. “Shoot–I’m going to be late!”

He tucked his book into his coat pocket, gritting his teeth as he ran. The dark clouds above let out a mighty rumble, splotches of rain falling before coming to a downpour.

Great, now he was soaked.

He reached his house shortly after, coming up the steps as his father and stepmother stood in the doorway, dressed to the nines.

“There you are.” His stepmother scowled slightly, letting out a displeased groan at the sight of [Name]’s soaking wet mess. “We just put your brother to sleep–”

The cries of the baby cut her off as she grimaced, the fur coat around her shoulders tightening.

“Why are you guys going out anyway?” [Name] scoffed, walking past the two as he took off his own coat, grabbing his book. “I’m only home for so long before I head back to my college campus, and you decide to go out on a date?”

“[Name]...” His father frowned, stepping forward to clasp his shoulder. “C’mon now, you know we don't do date nights very often–espcially with the baby.”

“So I’m just a babysitter.” [Name] glared, shaking off the hand on his shoulder. He made it to the base of the stairs before he spat, “So this is what I get after I leave the house? I came back this week to try and be with the family, but you clearly have other ideas. Guess I should be grateful I even have my bedroom and that its not storage, huh?”

“[Name]!” His stepmother gasped, and his father just let out a sigh. The baby’s cries got louder, which just added onto [Name]’s irritation.

“We’ll be back by midnight. We can spend the day tomorrow together.” His father spoke, only making [Name] roll his eyes. “I promise.”

“Don't bother. I’ll leave in the morning.” [Name] spat, storming up the stairs.

His father stepped forward to give chase, but the stepmother stopped him. “Let's just leave, dear. We’re going to be late.”

Meanwhile, [Name] made it to his room, the walls barren and the bedsheets plain. He had long stripped his room of his things when he went away to college, trying to get away from his family. Their relationship was… strained, especially after his mother died and his father remarried. Now with this child, it almost seemed like his parents were trying to babytrap him.

Speaking of which, the baby wailed louder and louder, unrelenting. [Name] tried to ignore it and bury himself into his book, but that baby was persistent.

“Ugh, fine!” [Name] hissed as he finally rose from his bed, traveling down the hallway to his parents bedroom. Thunder rumbled and lightning cracked outside the window as the storm raged, mixing in with his baby brother’s cries.

[Name] picked up the baby and held it in his arms, patting his back as he rocked. “Go to sleep, I beg of you!” He groaned in exasperation. He wasn't all too great with kids either way, so he wasn't sure how to even comfort the baby.

The baby, despite [Name]’s pleas, continued to cry. Lightning lit up the room as [Name]’s irritation reached it's peak.

“You know,” he muttered to the baby, eye twitching. “If you continue to misbehave like this and not go to bed, the fae will put a curse on you and take you away.”

He was met only with wails.

[Name] grimaced, and he felt the last straw of patience pull out of him. He laid the baby down as he scowled. “Maybe I should let the fae have you. It would bring some peace to this house.”

[Name] went to the doorway, listening to the cries of the baby. Deep anger and resentment was built up inside him–and in the back of his mind, he knew the baby wasn't at fault, but his brain wasn't thinking logically.

“Gah! I wish the fae would take you away!” He grumbled, about to close the door when he paused.

The cries had stopped.

He turned around suspiciously, fingers brushing over the light switch as he looked around the room. The crib where he had laid the baby down was still. A small lump was still inside, twitching as [Name] grew closer.

Outside, the storm had ceased, making the room deathly silent…

BANG!

Nevermind. A flying creature of some sort crashed against the window, making [Name] jump. He paid it no mind though, as he had a large matter at hand.

He pulled back the blanket over the lump, only to find the crib empty. A low gasp left his mouth before another crash sounded, the windows blasting open as the lights went out.

“Ah, dearest [Name].” A low voice uttered in an amused tone, making the other whip around to the noise. Before him stood a tall, dark figure with twisted horns and glowing green eyes. A gust of wind picked up, flowing through the figure’s cape. It held a striking resemblance to the fae king [Name] read about… but that was beside the point. “We meet at last–”

“What did you do to my brother?!” [Name] held an accusatory finger up, his teeth gritting as he hesitantly stood in place. He wasn't sure if this man was dangerous quite yet.

The figure paused, then let out a chuckle. “Oh my, don't tell me you're worried? You're the one who wished the fae to take him away.”

“I didn't actually mean it!” [Name] scowled, his attention drawn to a rustle behind him. Several smaller fae were spotted around the room, sneering at him. The figure raised his hand, silencing them.

“Fear not, for your brother is in good hands.” He spoke coolly, taking steps to close the distance. He towered over [Name], bending down slightly to the other’s gaze. Now [Name] could see his face properly, he couldn't help but find him gorgeous… gah, not now!

“I don't care. Give him back.” [Name] hissed, holding his ground and puffing his chest slightly. Who cares how handsome this king was–no one takes his stepbrother and gets away with it.

The fae king smirked, leaning back. “Oh, you're so determined. How cute.” His hand raised to brush [Name]’s cheek, but he didn't linger long before he bowed slightly. “I am the King of the Fae, Malleus Draconia.”

[Name] glared at the king, pursing his lips. So it truly was the king from the book he read… how did he come to be in real life?!

Malleus examined [Name]’s tight expression as he frowned, tilting his head. “Hmm. Well, I suppose I could give him back. On one condition, of course…”

He smirked once more, offering his hand out. “Your hand would suffice.”

[Name] couldn't help but choke. The absurdity of this man–!

“N-no…” He managed out, clearing his throat awkwardly. He wasn't stupid enough to sign off to a betrothal, especially to someone he thought was fantasy just a few minutes ago. “Surely there's some other way?”

Malleus’s eyes narrowed as his gloved hand curled into a fist, dropping to his side as he rose to his full height once more. “Ah. Well, the magic on your brother will settle in about…” A clock appeared, the hands ticking right at the 12. “Twelve hours. Then he will become a fae.”

[Name] had to stifle a gasp, his own knuckles growing white as he listened. “I can't let that happen. How do I reverse this?”

Malleus waved the clock away, crossing his arms. “Simple. Reach my castle before the twelve hours are up, and I’ll return your brother.” He stepped to the side to point in the distance, where the window had disappeared and it opened into a view of a distant castle.

“That's it..?” [Name] couldn't help but scoff. The castle didn't seem all too far, maybe an hour-long walk from where they stood. But then his eyes traveled down, and he saw a large labyrinth below. “...oh.”

Malleus couldn't help but laugh slightly, stepping towards the clearing. “The offer still stands, my dear. Become my husband, and I’ll give you a happy life and your brother back.”

“I'll think on it.” [Name] huffed, absentminded as he examined the maze. He got himself in this mess, so he best get himself out of it.

Malleus grinned at the remark, placing his hands behind his back. “You’ll have plenty of time to think of it. When you're lost in this labyrinth in twelve hours, I’ll come get you. I’m sure you’ll be begging for me to save you.”

A sparkle of green surrounded him, and he burst into fireflies, floating away towards the castle. [Name] didn't even have a chance to retort at the man, leaving him only to start on the path.

“This can't be that hard, right..?”

༺༻

Boy was he so utterly wrong.

[Name] had entered the maze about an hour ago, thanks to a fae at the entrance who reluctantly agreed to show him the door. He came in to see only two passage ways, but later learned from another creature the other entrance was an illusion in plain sight. The new area he entered looked like a garden, with trimmed hedges winding along paths with aromatic roses dripping with red paint.

[Name] had grown confident, but it withered away as he felt even more lost. “Have I passed this area before..?” He muttered, frowning as he examined the hedge wall. He probably needed to put markers down, but with what?

“Gah! Curse this stupid labyrinth, curse that king, and curse myself!” [Name] spewed with frustration as he kicked a stone, throwing his hands into the air. Why was he so determined anyway? Maybe it was better to leave his brother behind, then maybe his parents wouldn't guilt trip him into being free labor…

Oh, what was he thinking? Despite his resentment, his brother wasn't deserving of this fate. [Name] was the one who wished him away, so the least he could do was save him.

He reached for the leaves, grasping a rose and tugging it from it's stem. It landed softly, curling at [Name]’s feet. It wasn't much, but it could serve as a marker for now.

[Name] stepped away, turning down a corner. He plucked roses as often as he could, trying to mark some kind of path he could go back on. He turned corner after corner, the walls all blurring together with that same evergreen hedge. He found himself at yet another 4-way stop, so he picked another rose and laid it out.

He looked up, trying to spot the castle. It seemed to taunt him from its high perch far away, as if saying “just give up, you’ll never get your brother back.”

“Ugh, does this labyrinth go on forever?” [Name] grumbled, facing back down to notice the rose had disappeared. “Wha..?”

Then, he spotted them. The stone tiles shifted, little creatures that looked like hedgehogs lifting the rock and snagging the rose to pull underneath. [Name] scowled and shouted out, “Hey! Don't touch that!”

The little creatures let out a small screech, slurping the rose into the hole with even faster speed before disappearing. [Name] now understood why he was so lost–his markers were being sabotaged!

[Name] gripped his hair into fists, ready to pull it out from sheer frustration. “Ohh when I get my hands on that king’s neck–I don't care how handsome he is!” He felt himself get swept up in fury, storming down the path as he spewed curses and insults left and right.

…it appeared he blacked out for a moment.

When [Name] came to, huffing and puffing, he had entered a completely new section of the labyrinth, where the lush green hedges had been replaced with rough sandstone and thin, winding branches. Vines were strung from the branches, reminiscent of a savannah.

[Name] could work with this. Maybe letting his anger out could prove some usefulness.

༺༻

“He’s already made it to the second ring, hm?”

Malleus sat in his throne, holding a crystal ball that held the vision of [Name] traversing the new area. He couldn't help but smirk at the sight, tilting his head. “Perhaps I underestimated him. What are your thoughts?”

He turned to the baby next to him, who was being entertained by some of Malleus’s hooligans. The baby let out a coo, making Malleus scoff.

“Ah, you're no fun to talk to.” Malleus sighed, turning back to the glass ball. “Your brother is very intriguing to me. I thought he would give up and use this chance to move on, but I guess not.”

Malleus had been watching [Name] for awhile–he knew all who read his story after all–but he had to admit that the man was an enigma. From what he observed, [Name] struggled to be with his father and stepmother, but still wanted a family… to be wanted and loved. Yet, they couldn't give [Name] what he wanted, especially with the child that was currently at Malleus’s side.

Malleus could give [Name] that. He wanted to, even. He had found himself forming a strange connection and attraction while he observed [Name] these past few weeks, and he was certain he knew the man better than anyone else. But with how… stubborn [Name] was, Malleus knew he'd have to bide his time.

“Let's see if he succeeds. It's only 2 hours in now.” Malleus mused, gazing into the ball and watching [Name]. He’d have him sooner or later, somehow.

༺༻

“Uff–!”

[Name] let out one last grunt as he slid down the wall, forced to admit defeat. He had tried to climb the walls to see a better view of the labyrinth, but the walls were too curved to give his feet any hold.

“Stupid wall, didn't want to climb you anyway…” [Name] grumbled as he wiped his pants of the dust. So be it–if he wasn’t able to cheat the system, he’d beat the everliving hell out of it.

He reached over to where the vines hung from the trees, tugging them down firmly. They bundled at his feet like rope, and were perfect for [Name]’s next idea.

He grabbed the ends of the vines and tied them together to make a chain, giving him at least a hundred steps of distance to cover. He lastly tied the end of the rope back to the tree, wrapping it around the thickest branch and giving it a test tug before nodding in satisfaction.

He started to walk away, watching the vines lift as he grasped his end. The vines were acting as a different type of marker, one that surely couldn't be so easily sabotaged–

A huge gust of wind blew past, sand clouding it together as it ransacked the path like a tornado. The vine whipped back and forth as [Name] tried to keep his grip on it. Sand and other particles hit his eyes, forcing one hand to go up to shield his eyes.

His grip was now loose with the vines, and he could feel it slip from his grip. The sandstorm was relentless, trying to suck in the vines with its wind.

“You're… not having this..!” [Name] protested as he was forced to switch to two hands, now playing tug of war with the sandstorm. He squeezed his eyes shut, using his heels and back to try and find a corner he could use.

However, the sandstorm’s power just surged, and he could feel his feet being lifted from the ground. He let out a small yelp, feeling his body being thrown around in the wind. [Name] was forced to release the vines, arms sprawled to try and find something to cling to.

“AAAAAH!”

[Name] landed flat on his bottom, the sandstorm finally dropping him. The small stings of sand hitting his skin faded away as the wind moved away.

He squinted as the sandstorm sucked up the vines, watching them whirl in the storm as it traveled away into the distance.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” [Name] rubbed his sore eyes, ready to release another string of curses until he realized where he was.

It was a new area!

This section was vastly different, with the walls replaced with vibrant corals, different hues of red and yellow mingling with other bouts of what looked like sea life. The ground dipped before him, the floor covered in still water with sand at the bottom.

“...huh.” [Name] muttered, getting up slowly. He took off his socks and shoes and rolls up his pants before dipping his toes into the water. It was cool to the touch, and was quite refreshing.

The castle was getting closer and closer with every new section, so there was only one way to go–forward.

He dodges the pillow you throw at him, laughing like a maniac. “Ahaha! Shoulda seen the look on your face!” “You’re a jerk!” You cry. You don’t know if this banter or genuine frustration is from you, but you get the feeling that he doesn’t care either way. He takes joy in your suffering, perhaps even pride when he’s the one to cause it. You’ve always known that, the little sadist. He’s propped himself on his elbow now, looking at you in anticipation. An eager cat always ready to play with prey. He laughs again when you glare at him tearfully.

“Relax~ How’re ya gonna get a good night’s sleep when you’re working yourself up this much?” He brings you to his side, gentle yet anticipatory, as if feeling like something good is gonna happen. “Doubt you ever had a decent wink in that rundown dorm of yours.”

Sleeping face-to-face with Ace is not something new for any of you. You’ve had plenty of sleepovers with him and Deuce, sometimes even the other first-years, but the comfort of Ramshackle and its ghosts kept you from overthinking things. You stifle your feelings and pout at him. “Like you didn’t sleep there whenever you and Riddle had a fight.”

He chuckles fondly, tracing your pouting lips with his finger. “Yeah, yeah. I’m grateful, so I’m paying back the favor, see? Got Riddle to say yes despite all his fuckin’ rules. Gave you a neat hoodie to sleep in since all your clothes are under that rubble now.”

The beating in your chest seems ever louder, even as his fingers pull away, the faintest warmth only lingering on your lips. “You just want to see me in your clothes, asshole.”

He grins. “Damn right I do, prefect. Might sell ‘em to Deuce, the poor pervert. Might keep them for myself. Who knows?”

DEUCE SPADE is on you the next day, Grim leaping out of his arms and grumbling about Deuce being too noisy to sleep with. He got the boot from Ace last night, and you’re a bit relieved to have a bit of familiarity back in your arms as he resumes his napping. “[Y. Name]! Oh Seven, are you okay? Did you get some sleep? What did that bastard do to you?” He whips his head to Ace, who’s ambling lazily behind you with a lazy stretch. “What the fuck did you do to them?”

Ace waves him off with a grin, walking off to the kitchen. “Nothing you wouldn’t do, hypocrite.”

The growl that Deuce lets out is outright guttural that you would have thought him a student of Savanaclaw, but he softens when he feels you flinch under him. “Sorry, [Y. Name], it’s just that… well, you know Ace.”

You laugh gently. Whereas Ace was a little sadist, Deuce was overprotective in ways that made you feel suffocated, but grateful nonetheless. It was nice to know that some friends were looking out for you rather than laughing at you. You ruffle his still-messy hair. “I know, I know. Nice to know the ADeuce combo is still chaotic even in the early mornings.” His face crumples a bit when you pull your hand away, but he guides you to the common dining hall for breakfast. 

Being the overeager gentleman that he is, Deuce prompts you to make yourself comfortable while he fetches your breakfast. Grim is still curled up on your lap, trying to catch a few missing Zs, and Ace is across the room fighting with the roommates he kicked out last night. You feel a bit of guilt, but not as much when Ace is in a verbal match with them. They’re probably using Riddle’s absence as an opportunity to scream their heads off at him— you hear them call him an opportunistic man who’s trying to get their crush in his pants. You cringe upon hearing that. He laughs and says ‘At least I’m getting some!’ and a fistfight ensues.

Your breakfast plate, an impressive feast of golden honey pancakes topped with maple syrup and strawberries, is set before you. But Deuce’s eyes are narrowed at the fistfight happening, and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. “What the hell is that idiot doing?” He grumbles, sitting before you. “Spreading these malicious rumors about you… I should knock some sense into all of them!”

“Don’t,” you softly admonish him. “It’s only a matter of time before either Trey or Riddle walks in and they all get beheaded. Might as well let them learn their lesson.” You flash him a grin. “But thanks. Always nice to see my lil delinquent ready to defend my honor.”

He flushes and nervously picks at his own platter. It’s more meat than dessert, and he’s playing with the peas. “It’s nothing. You just don’t deserve to be talked about like that. You’re too…” He trails off, blushing bright red at what he might say, and stops. You don’t push further and let yourself enjoy the comfortable silence between the two of you. In the corner of your eye, you watch Ace and the other roommates get dragged off by the collar by Trey and Cater’s clones.

“Peace and quiet at least,” Deuce sighs. He glances at you before chuckling into his palm. You knit your eyebrows at him. “You’re so… oh well, hold still.” His thumb brushes against the side of your lip (a rather odd recurring event at your stay here) and pulls back to reveal the syrup residue. He eyes it for a bit as if pondering his next course of action. Then, locking eyes with you, his tongue peeks out and licks it off his thumb. 

“Th– Deuce that’s…” Your voice catches in your throat. “That’s… dirty.”

“Dirty? You?” He hums softly, cocking his head to the side. Expression dazed and ditzy, he smiled like a boy partaking in something he's so long desired. “Never. But I… well, haha, sorry. Can’t really play normal around you for too long. But you knew that, right?”

stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): check this out you dumb fuck stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): [image attached] Deuce Spade took a screenshot. You (Deuce Spade): you!! what the fuck have you been doing with the prefect last night?! You (Deuce Spade): i’ll beat u to the fucking ground if i see even one fucking mark stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): haha stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): magichat tells y when you screenshot something u kno. stuupid. stupid hypoocriiite You (Deuce Spade): IT CAN?!?! stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): dun worry your lil brain bout it. stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): we besties rmember??? i aint doing squat without ya. hbu jack off to this as apologies stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): [image attached] Deuce Spade took a screenshot. stupid ginger (Ace Trappola): sooo fuckin easy ✌️✌️

As soon as you go back to Heartslabyul after another day of class, CATER DIAMOND whisks you away before Ace and Deuce can even say anything about it. He’s rambling about something or other, about how he’s so stoked to have you here and how much fun you’d have together. Sleepovers are the highlight of youth, after all! Cater might be in his third year, but he’s not so old as to relinquish all the fun to the freshies!

So he has you sitting still and pretty on his bed, your hair held back by a cloth headband and a nourishing face mask to prep you for the how-many-steps skincare routine that you’ll be doing for tonight. He has his own matching headband as well, and yes, he did take a selfie before posting it to the ‘net with the hashtags #twinning, #sleepover, and #cute. His dorm room is as loud and vibrant as he is, walls covered with posters of his favorite bands and shows, a table full of cosmetics, and the phone and ring light glaring at you.

You shift nervously. It’s like part two of Ace’s incessant photography from last night, but you know that with Cater it will always be twice as bad. Something to do with the desperation in his eyes every time he snaps a picture of only the two of you. Or maybe not. You can’t just assume.

Cater finally turns around, grinning lightheartedly as he brings over a pot of moisturizer. “Hey, hey~ Sorry for the wait. It was, like, reeeal hard to find this pot. I’ve been so messy these days.” He’s always been a bit messy, but taking a look at the desk, you have to agree that this is worse than most days. He sighs when he sees you glance at his table. “IDK… something weighing on my mind and… agh! Lookit me dragging the mood down! Cringe. Let’s take off your mask…”

He takes off the gel mask gingerly. Tonight, you see Cater in his rawest form. No makeup on, not even that little mandatory diamond he always wears, and just him in his pjs. He likes to play rough sometimes, especially if it means getting a reaction out of you, but right now he is gentle. Without the makeup, you can see the eyebags under his eyes that are usually hidden under concealer, and you can’t help but massage them away with your thumb. Green eyes stare back at you wide.

“Have you not been getting enough sleep?” You murmur. It’s glaringly obvious to you and to whoever bothers to look closely that he’s always been hiding underneath a mask, and your suspicions seem to be proven true. You feel him soften under your touch as you continue pressing gentle circles on his eyebags. “We’re in your room, Cater. You don’t have to pretend.”

He makes a face as he pulls away. Disgust, you assume when he laughs drily to himself. “Sometimes I can’t stand you,” he murmurs to himself, but the room is so silent that you can hear it as if he’s saying it into your ear. “You’re too stupidly perceptive, it's creepy. What’s up with that? You don’t even have magic.”

You huff out a laugh. “I don’t think anyone needs magic to have some basic empathy.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but twists the moisturizer cap open and starts to slather the cream on you. “Please. It’s Night Raven College. People don’t have empathy, aside from you and Kalim, anyway. But we know what the deal is with the two of you.” You don’t belong. “You act like some sorta therapist, then boom— you got yourself a horde of hormonal men at your doorstep who could kill you at a moment’s notice.” He pinches your cheek so hard that you yelp at the burn, and he pulls away smugly. “And it’s a~ll your fault.”

You rub your cheek and frown. It hurts. Like, no joking hurts, and Cater looks guiltless as he eyes the red mark. “You’re a doll, aren’t you?” He coos. “Nothing makes you special except for this adorable lil face. Why don’t you just stick with Cay-Cay and let him make you special? I’m sure my sisters would like a sweet thing like you.”

“You’re a dick,” you grumble. He laughs out loud, not even trying to deny the claim, and he throws a peace sign to the camera. “What’s that for? You’re not livestreaming, are you?”

“‘Course not!” Cater laughs, switching back to his usual preppy self. He reaches over and stops the recording, checking the video with small appreciative hums. “Can’t let my peeps know that their Cay-Cay is a sick, sick man who gets off hurting their cute junior! One more selfie, please?”

He tilts the camera towards both of you. Within the frame, Cater’s grinning face and your frowning, bruised one are obviously filtered to hell as he takes the shot.

“Looks like Cater got to you, huh?” TREY CLOVER laughs, handing you an ice pack. It’s later in the night, and Cater’s decided he isn't in the mood to have you in his bed for the night. Shame, Trey had said to him. I know men who’d kill for this. Cater had only stuck out his tongue and waved you off before retreating to his chambers. You hiss when you press the pack against your face. Moonlight silhouetting his figure like an ominous foretelling, Trey leans on the island as he inspects you.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs, brushing the messy strands away from your face. “You got your dorm ruined, forced to move into Heartslabyul of all places, and you get bullied by our members two days in a row. Must be tough for you, huh?”

You want to pout. Maybe complain. Cry a little bit. In the first few weeks that you’d known Trey, maybe you would have. You had always mistaken him for an exasperated elder brother type, exhausted by the dorm members’ antics but laid back enough to go along with it. But you know better than to vent to Trey of all people, not when he doesn’t bother to hide his smirk as he watches you shed tears. 

“Not gonna work on me, devil,” you mutter. He laughs again and holds two hands in surrender, caught red-handed trying to make you rely on him. You eye him warily. “I’m sleeping with you tonight?”

“Oh, don’t word it like that, pet. The walls have ears.” You flush at the innuendo. “But hey, if you’re okay with that, then by all means go ahead.” 

You sigh deeply. First Ace, then Trey. Where the hell was the housewarden when you needed him? Someone needed to keep these crazies in line. Trey, for the most part, was far more responsible than any of the other members. But he hasn’t bothered to be decent around you for a long time now. Always quipping subtle lewd jokes when you least expect it, hovering his hand on your hips as he guides you through a recipe… Riddle’s mentioned it once, calling it a display of indecency. Trey had brushed it off and teased that you liked it that way. You don’t know. Riddle hasn’t brought it up ever again.

Lost in thought, you barely register Trey’s fingers prying your mouth open until he’s peering into the recesses of your mouth. This guy and his mouth fetish. You try to squirm away from him, but his steady hand on your shoulder tightens, and you still. “Steady now,” he murmurs. “Ate chocolate, didn’t you?” You can’t nod like this, but something in your eyes probably gives the answer away. He chuckles. “Yeah, thought so. Cater bought those chocolates for your sleepover. To think he was so excited for this as well. Doesn’t really strike you as the moody type, huh?”

He cocks a grin at you. “C’mon, brush your teeth. I got some extra spare ones.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t want you staring.”

“Every man has his interests. You really think you can stop me?”

Being vice housewarden, Trey has the privilege of having his own dorm and bath, and now you’re alone with him in the latter. He’s the only thing blocking you from escaping out the door, leaning on it with arms crossed and the grin of a man who’s gotten what he wants. You make a face at him and turn to the sink. His reflection in the mirror continues to watch.

“Scrub more gently, why’re you rushing? Too eager to get out?” You heard it from Ace and Deuce, but you didn’t think that his being this naggy about brushing was real. “You’re neglecting the upper teeth.” Seriously. You didn’t think anyone was this naggy about brushing. “Scrape off the plaque from your tongue. Don’t wanna wake up with bad breath, do you?” You thought his family runs a patisserie? Not a dentist clinic?

You turn to him, features contorted in annoyance as you bare your mouth to him as proof, then clamp it shut again. “Here. Done. Now, can we sleep?”

“Mm, not yet. Open it again.”

You make a face at him, but sigh and relent. You know he’s gonna pry it open one way or another, magic or not. No use trying to argue against a man with magic and muscles bigger than yours. You open your mouth again— “Mpfh?!”

Trey’s two fingers invite themselves into your mouth, poking and prodding at your teeth as if they ought to be there. They’re gliding across molars, pulling against the inside of your cheek to get a proper see… It’s all uncomfortable. You shake your head and grab onto his wrist to try and pull him away, but his hold on you grows more painful as he levels you with a stern stare. “Always squirming, this dormouse. Stay still and excuse this senior’s… habits. Siblings back home, and all that.” He’s not even bothering to put any effort into his excuses. He presses down on your tongue.

“Mpphf mmh mpf!?”

“Just… a lil bit more. Can’t risk cavities.” He smirks at you, his handsome face taking on that sadistic expression that’s ever so common in this college’s students. “It’s okay if you’re scared. Really. More than okay.”

You’re beyond exhausted. You’ve always thought that Heartslabyul was the most normal of the dorms, but perhaps you’d hand that over to Pomefiore. One crazy (Rook) can’t possibly outcrazy four crazies. Especially not when you’ve had to suffer from them two days in a row.

But you’ve never been so happy to see that gorgeous shade of red hair until now.

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS sits at his room’s tea table, enjoying himself with some warm lemon tea. His strict expression softens when he sees you enter through the doors, possibly due to your distraught state. Ever since the overblot, he’s loosened up and allowed himself to be vulnerable, especially around you. Riddle’s fond of looking after your quartet of misfits, but even the others admit that he favors you more than them. You’ve always chalked it up to you not getting yourself into trouble like the others do.

“Riddle!” It’s a bit pathetic, how needy you sound. But with the few days of being tossed around like clothes in the dryer, you’re willing to take any sense of order, no matter how extreme it may be. You don’t notice how Riddle’s smile twitches into self-satisfaction before he smooths it down. He gestures to the seat across him, and you take it. He pours you tea, the scent of warm lemon warming your senses.

“Apologies for not being able to properly welcome you these past few days,” he starts, leaning back on his seat. “It’s been quite a busy week for us housewardens, with the new event just around the corner. But things have settled, and I was really hung up on the fact that I couldn’t greet you properly.” He scowls, setting down his teacup as he remembers something. “Or my house members, for that matter. I’ve heard of the upheaval your presence has brought on these past few days.”

You shrink into your seat, shame coloring your face. “I’m sorry… after asking you for shelter as well.”

Riddle waves off your worry. “Oh no, don’t trouble yourself. As far as I know, you haven’t done anything. Goodness, Cater and Ace are throwing out their roommates! And just when we have a spare room as well. Although I do understand their worries, that room hasn’t been cleaned out for a while…” He fails to mention that their opportunistic ways of gaining privacy with you. “Ah. Well. There is always mine and Trey’s room.” He watches you shift uncomfortably and smiles understandingly. “Apologies. Trey hasn’t exactly relayed what happened last night to me, but I can imagine. And well, it wouldn’t be proper for us to be sleeping together.” You breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, some damn common sense in this house. Now you know why Riddle is such an excellent housewarden. You tell yourself never to doubt—

“Not when we aren’t married yet.”

You catch the teacup before it can spill anything. Riddle continues sipping in front of you. He cocks his head when he catches you gaping and you shake yourself out of it. Misheard, misheard… joking?

“I brought you up to mother, of course, she was rather outraged that I harbor feelings for a magickless, but…” He laughs awkwardly, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks. “I convinced her that you very much mirrored her, just not in… magical prowess or… um, fierceness. Your softness and ability to care for others are captivating, and she still isn’t convinced, but— well, she does have some sort of intrigue. I was hoping to bring you to her at the next break, and… [Y. Name]? You look unwell.”

Softness? Ability to care for others? Your qualities as a doormat seem to have been exaggerated and worse of all, placed on a narcissistic mother who couldn't care less about anything other than her trophy son succeeding. And worst of all, marriage talks? You put down your teacup, fingers shaking from the tumultuous feelings stirring within you. Dread, maybe. Riddle looks at you from across the table, staring at you worriedly with those adorable grey eyes, as if he hasn’t said anything concerning.

“You… want to get married?” You choke out, laughing like you can’t believe it. You shakily point to yourself. “To me? The one who’s going to leave Twisted Wonderland?”

Riddle furrows his brows. “Who says you’re leaving Twisted Wonderland?”

You laugh again in disbelief. “Me! The headmaster! As soon as he finds a way—”

“I don’t think so, not really,” he hums. “It’s obvious he’s delaying, or that there really isn’t a way out. And even if there was, I doubt the numerous people attached to you would allow that.” He looks out the window, perhaps thinking of the number of mages who are so eager to prey on you and your affections. “I, for one, wouldn’t allow that. Ah, don’t look so down, my family is well-off and I will work; I will provide you with everything you desire.” His hands, smaller and softer than yours, squeeze yours gently. “I promise.”

You feel sick.

“You will be a great partner. I know my mother’s extremities far too well, but I’m sure once I find myself a solid position in the government, she will be far too content to say anything about our marriage. All you have to do is be who you are now.” Riddle shyly smiles to himself. “Sweet, caring, docile… motherly.”

Sevens, you feel so fucking sick.