finn wants to implode at the mere mention of love. not because he doesn't love you, no. but because he's not sure if he's ready to say it. he doesn't know if he should admit it because he fears that if he does, he'll scare you off. but finn knows he loves you. more than he'd like to admit. even a mere glimpse of you in the hallways or classrooms sends his heart soaring, but finn knows that he loves you because he feels so safe with you.

you're a home he wished he had in his childhood, back when he thought a home was a building. but finn learned that a home is a person's heart, and he's made himself at home in your heart just as much you've found one in his. and he hopes you'll never leave it. there's nowhere else safer for him than in your arms with your hands in his.

finn knows that things will be okay because he loves you, even if he hasn't come around to saying just yet.

there are very few things lance hesitates about. in fact, one might think there's nothing that would make him stumble more than the knowledge that his sister might get a boyfriend one day. but those kinds of people don't know him. they all assume he only has his sister in his mind and nothing else, but that's not true at all.

no, lance hesitates the most when he considers for a brief moment if he truly loves you more than anna. of course, the argument there would be: it's a different kind of love; there's no comparison! but that's not what lance is questions. he doesn't want to be a waste of your time. he doesn't want to look back and realize you were never his first priority when you should've. he doesn't know if he could handle the heartbroken and disappointed look you give him when you realize you weren't his first priority, the first person he thinks of when he wakes up to the last person he thinks of when he falls asleep.

lance knows you should be. and therefore, he questions his love for you. and when he realizes that you're no mere second or third priority in his life, lance feels comforted. only when he is self-assured can he face you as your lover. because you deserved his full devotion.

of course he does; dot has no doubt in his mind that you are the only thing on his mind for a good portion of the day. he daydreams and dreams about you, spends any spare waking moment wondering what you're doing, if you've ate, if you're sleeping well, if you're having a good day, and so on. to dot, you're on a whole different level of vip, even more than his friends and sister. so yes, dot doesn't hesitate to say bold declarations of love because what else could these feelings be?

dot is the picture perfection description of a simp, down bad, head over heels, and rose-tinted glasses all at once. there's really no question behind it when he's grinning like an idiot at a picture of you and him on your latest date, rubbing it into his friends faces and declaring you as nothing short of his heart, soul, and world. and dot's words are only simple and bold because he sees no need to use fancy, illustrating words for the love that burns for you night and day.

abyss loves you like you're the only reason he gets up in the morning. he doesn't even have to open his eyes to think about you; the darkness beneath his eyelids makes him crave your blinding smile and warm embrace immediately. oh, how he longs for the future days where you can wake up in his arms, the mornings and nights when you're the first and last thing he sees. abyss knows he loves you... he craves you in more than mere carnal ways.

abyss has no need of the sun when he has you; abyss has no need of a large manor that he grew up in the basement of when he has you. he needs nothing else but you, and there's nothing that deters him from knowing that he loves you. and he knows you know he loves you because you're so gentle with him, his heart, his body, his soul. there's no amount of words he could say to describe how you make him feel, but all he knows is that you must be a reward, a blessing from the heavens because he had some great and marvelous thing i his past life.

whenever abyss looks at you, he knows. all the trouble and suffering in his childhood was all the more worth it when he found you in his life. found you in the sunlight, humming and swaying with the sunny breeze, sitting there like you had stepped out of a painting, feeling like you were made of silk. how soft and delicate his love is, but stronger than anything else in the universe.

is there truly a word abel could use to describe how he feels around you? was there really a phrase of sorts, something poetic but simple that he could use to explain how painful yet delightful his love for you is? he wonders, truly.

abel is no genius with his feelings, but he knows that you are what he's been looking for. you are the other half of his soul, the puzzle piece that fits the you-shaped gap in his heart; you're simply so perfect for him to love that abel feels like it is a sin to love you. a sin to love you and desire you the way only he could, to crave you and seek you out when he misses the sight and feel of you, perhaps even the taste of your lips on his.

abel is no genius with his feelings, yet he knows that this love between you and him are for the two of you alone. no one else gets to lay a hand on it, lest this love be a sin to anyone else, a maze of torturous wants and needs that could only be fulfilled by you. but they can't have you. because abel has you. therefore, this love is only for you and you alone.

there's very little wirth feels like he needs to prove. he knows he's strong, he knows he's smart and has wealth that his other peers are jealous of. and he knows he loves you.

but does he? does he love you the way you deserve? are you content being loved by him? are you pleased with the love you've found in hi heart, all for you to take and take with no expectations of giving anything in return? perhaps a glance or two his way and maybe a smile will do nicely, wirth thinks. he'll do just about anything and everything that you wish him to do, just as he had for his father who gave him no recognition and no praise for his hard work. you, on the other hand, gave when you weren't required to. you recognized, acknowledged, and praised him beyond words. you touched his heart when no one else wanted to, and now he's so hopelessly yet willingly yours.

wirth knows he will never be happier with anyone else. they could never provide him with what you give him, even if you didn't need to. all your sweet words and touches, warm eyes and hands, down to your very breath seems to sing praises to him, and wirth thrives.

oh please, please ask rayne if he loves you. please ask when he knew he loved you. he begs. he begs and pleads and waits for the day you walk about to him with the cutely curious glint in your eyes, adorably asking him when he knew he loved you because he has an answer. an answer that's been holed up in his pocket like a housekey waiting to be brought out at the end of a tiring day of work.

rayne knew he loved you the moment you came to him in tears, apologizing over and over again until he was more worried you were going to pass out from the lack of air in your lungs than whatever you did wrong. he found it so silly yet lovable that you were so sorry that you spilled your morning coffee on his rabbit handkerchief, knowing he cherished it. but there was nothing more he cherished than you. rayne loves you more than all the money in the world, all the wealth and comfort the world and its people could lay at his feet. why would he need all that when he has you right beside him? don't be silly, he has no thoughts of leaving you, so you shouldn't be either. you were his for the taking to day you sobbed into his chest over spilled coffee on his handkerchief. you were his to love and cherish and keep when he tilted your head up and had the first taste of your lips against his.

there's no love like rayne's, and rayne knows he got you hook, line, and sinker.

ah yes, the one man who acts like you don't mean anything more to him than a housemate and a coworker. orter is insufferably emotionally constipated, so please bless him if he can't show his love for you properly. orter has considered telepathically sharing his thoughts with you whenever he thinks of you and fawns over you in his head, but he doesn't because he knows neither of you will get anything done. you're better off having blind faith that this guy loves you because while you and him think he's being sly and sneaky, his coworkers and especially his brother can see otherwise.

how do you now know that he covers the table with his head when you go under to grab something you dropped? how do you not realize that he has memorized your coffee order top to bottom? how do you not see how he knows how you like your eggs, steak, or any food order that you've made at any restaurant? how do you not see orter madl going above and beyond for you?

the answer is simple: he's never given you a reason to expect anything less. orter, from acquaintance to marriage, never gave you a reason to expect anything less from you because he knew when he met you that you were going to be something else to him. cringey, i know, and he knows too, but there's really no other way to explain it. but because that's the case, you don't see his efforts because orter doesn't want you to. he doesn't want to be praised for something he sees elementary, basic, and put promptly, the lowest standard.

Getting reborn in a world choked full of anime characters would be any weeb’s greatest dream. Your inner wish finally gets granted, at last!

So many cameos, easter eggs, references serving the overstimulation you craved.

Urban dystopia, cyberpunk, fantasy, and even classic and modern day Japan structures this conglomeration that is the capital of this anime city in this anime world.

In one way or another, you yourself seek out such dashing men that all had their unique quirks and styles straight out of the gate. Even in this new life they still hold a place in your heart.

Unlike most leads in reverse harem stories, you wanted to embrace this fantasy. Your lovesick self literally gave off such an intense lovestruck aura as is. You crave that kind of affection and attention, in this life as the last.

Someway, somehow, it worked.

Your bois … them dudes … ah what a lineup.

Mash, the magicless exercise buff, secretly likes you watching him doing weight lifts with one hand and eating cream puffs with the other. While workouts with him are more casual, he still appreciates you wanting to bond over it, inspiring him to do his push ups and sit ups with you kissing him when his face gets close enough as his motivation and reward. That and sharing slash feeding each other cream puffs together whenever you get the chance.

“You don't have to dote on me so much. Even without magic, I will use all of my strength to keep you safe. And bake cream puffs for you every day. I'll dote on you all to show you just how much you mean to me.”

Jiji, the goofy quirky red-head that he is, despite the Evil Eye yokai of hatred using him as its vessel, slowly but surely wormed his way into your heart. The stupid jokes paired with those face expressions laced with the boundless energy he has despite the hell he's been through grew on you over time until his beaming smile got you turning to mush. Being able to wind down and relax when he started gaining control over his alternate self, taking naps with you got you being the big spoon for this cutie. Cuddles are inevitable.

“Your laugh is infectious. Getting you to smile is my daily goal. It really does make my day. Gets me smiling every single time. I never want this feeling to end. So let's have more bright filled days ahead together, Y/n~”

Lighter, the red scarfed honor bound Champion, rightfully won your heart with his protective romantic dorky self. Meeting each other through your shared friends that are legendary Proxies, you become entangled in each other's lives. Giving you rides on his motorbike went from convenient transport to enjoying the scenic drive together. Sharing some Nitro Fuel together as he quipped out some dorky puns all to make you smile. You keep him grounded in return. Kissing every single scar his past left him with, being able to let down his walls and be open with you, it all means so much.

“You can count on me to get the job done. Whatever it is, whenever you need me, I'm there. I'll fight for you until my dying breath. Hey now, don't cry. I'm not going anywhere. Not for a long time.”

Anos, the misfit that is the Demon King of Tyranny, exudes natural charm and strength that is indeed OP. Building bridges, ending divides, bringing everyone united in a new age for his descendants. So of course the strapping reincarnated man bewitched you as well. Sure he has his own group of comrades on the side – a harem in a sense from others perspective – but from his self awareness, you have an actual harem. He was amused, intrigued even, that you would see him as another potential mate, so he humored you. His parents were more than welcoming to meet a bride he wouldn't mind marrying one day. You're just that interesting to him.

“Did you really think that just because I was part of your little court, that I would be outdone by my competition? I'll be as savage as well as benevolent to my rivals. Why am I going along with it? Well … I'm enthralled by you, my lovely human.”

Nagumo, one of the strongest assassins there is, would deem crossing paths with you during a mission not as a coincidence but as fate. He felt light as a feather, walking on air, as he made small talk with you after finishing his tasks for the day, that elated smile that came with blood stains. The fact that you reciprocate his assassin lifestyle had the arrow of love striking him true, mirroring Sakamoto's reason for leaving the Order all to be with his own special someone. Introducing you to said former comrade at his convenience store came soon after.

“Getting close to me will put you at risk, no doubt. And I barely have time to see you as it is due to my job. But I'll gladly kill anyone that dares harm a hair on your pretty little head. I really like you, after all.”

Mikey, the leader of his own biker group, can be quite the handful. Being overprotective about keeping his family safe, blood bound and found, you were no exception. He'd do anything for you, day or night. He is as loyal as he is a kid at heart. He wears his heart on his sleeve in your honest opinion. Giving him PDA really lifts his spirits; loved fill squeezing hugs, smooching him senseless, and being a shoulder to cry on for those tough days.

“Oi. I'm grateful to you. Ya know that, right? When this city sees delinquents in a better light through the Tokyo Manji Gang, my brother's dream will finally become a reality. And I hope you'll be by my side when that happens. I can't imagine anything else worthwhile.”

Jinwoo, an E-rank hunter reawakened to become the next Shadow Monarch took the world and beyond by storm, sweeping all off their feet. Slaying magic beasts all around you to show off his growing strength and speed. Saving those that are genuinely worth it helped balance the OP aura he gave, winning your heart in his favor. Seeing his former self in you brought out his overprotectiveness, aiding in winning him over in turn. This Ruler rather carry you princess style himself than his shadow generals.

“We've both been at the bottom. But while I've been fortunate to have agency and power to lead a better life, you haven't been so lucky. If you wouldn't mind, I want to look after you. I … I care about you. Very much. I want to be there for you like you have been for me.”

Ryoji, the Appraiser of Nyx herself, could not believe it himself. He was back together with his friends, making new memories with this second chance. And he had you to thank for that. The anomaly that is many worlds meshing together to create this one has you literally radiating at its core, having him hone in on you. You're an angel in his eyes. Hence, serenading on the piano for you, affectionately swaying you over with his wise words about embracing life to the fullest, and wrapping his scarf around you for you both to share. You got Death wrapped around your finger.

“I didn't expect to be in the presence of an angel, yet here you are. Knowing you had a hand in making all this possible, allow me to thank you personally. Beneath this moon, beside this sea, will you share one dance with me?”

Makoto, the savior literally tied to Death itself, willingly gave up his life to save his world from the literal end. In this alternate life, he too had been given another chance to live a long life. And like his close friend, he gets drawn to your presence. But unlike the former, you're the affectionate one. Petting him, sharing headphones in exchange for letting him rest against you, even looking unto his big blue eyes had him blushing and ducking his head in embarrassment. This silent loner boi is not immune to your smitteness.

“You're strange. Putting yourself out there … because you like me? Sorry. I've had admirers before, but I've never wanted to ruin those friendships. So why …? Maybe Ryoji was right. You're like a kindred soul to us … to me. We've all died yet came back. All to meet one another. I've dealt with stranger things … but I don't mind. You, that is. I mean it.”

While they were all different, the similarities when it comes to their bond with you are all there.

Shaking their warm calloused hands, no other kind of handshake could ever hope to top it.

Those marvelous eyes fascinate you.

Their modest encouragement sends your heart ablaze.

The many things they do to make each day easier, comfy, worthwhile.

Their fingers rubbing sensually along your cranium down to your tense neck. Massaging the rest of your stressed sore body followed suit. Of course they'd flex for you as you return the kind act, giving their lean builds love bites and smooches in the process.

Your drained hum of thanks reaches their ears as you use their lap as your pillow. They would do the same if they're too drained to go to bed or they need your presence to cheer them up for whatever reason.

Their hand brushes through your hair strands, pushing them aside to trail along your flushed cheek, causing it to darken further because it's their touch.

Many times you fall asleep against them, whether leaning into their side or using their lap as a pillow, it always ends with them rearranging yourselves to sleep on the couch together with you on top on them or they carry you to bed and keeps you in their arms still as you cuddle amid la la land.

Their laughter, whether deep or light, is a musical score you cherish to hear much more.

Lounging together with you sitting up against his front, your legs in between his own, his arms wrapped around you, he held the console controller in your lap with his hands overlapping yours as you played whatever video games piqued both your interests.

Spotting you squeezing the life out of chibi plush doll versions of themselves always brought out their envy. But it was your comfort whenever you couldn't hug their real life counterparts due to work or any other occupying situations. But you do get the chance to see them again, cuddles and kisses come in tenfold.

Even being able to spend time with them along with their comrades and friends always ends up with you staying glued by their side.

Days turned to weeks and then months, for each passing moment you were interweaving a web of bonds that got you attached to these fine nine beings.

For they share the same voice.

God that voice …

Such versatility and tenor. So sultry, sensual, and sexy all at once. It should be a crime to sound that fine. Of course it will slide. That kind of voice times nine. Like a soul split into nine sublime forms.

Comforting words. Encouragement. Goofy impressions. The puns. Saying your name. Pet Names. Any and every word. You could never get enough.

Then there are the salacious moments.

Them whispering in your ears to utter any and all such things. Dirty, romantic, primal. Whatever suited the mood. Whichever made you both comfortable.

“Does my voice really make you come that much? Interesting~”

That exact sentence would become like a motto – a slogan perhaps – to these guys. Teasing you in that tempo and timbre all to make you melt. Never letting you live it down.

“The ways in which you talk to me~”

Your own tease earned you being pushed up against the wall, your free hand supporting you since your other hand was pinned behind your back. His free hand grasped your chin, tilting your face around all to devour you. Just one of many scenarios that play out between you and your many partners.

Your first time with each of them is equally special, ingrained into your mind and your core.

Whether decent or long, wide or thick, so much variety with every cock that stuffs up your needy pussy.

Smooth and sly or sculpted and rough are such fingers that get to touch you, trace patterns along your sensitive flesh.

To pinch and rub your pearls, leaving love bites on every inch of you to remind one another who you belong to.

Fondling and massaging your frame, suckling on your stretch marks along your fine as fuck dumpy, stuffing their fingers in both your mouths to lather up your essence, licking from your ass crack to your clit.

They all share the intoxicating crave for your addictive taste, devouring your cunt for hours on end, their faces squished between your quivering sweaty thighs, their noses buried in your pubic hair while they're sloppily making out as their dexterous fingers and skillful tongues went to work on having you come so many times.

Missionary, backshots, the mating press, against the wall, on the floor, across tables and couches, even on the roof — when there's a will there's a way.

They love replacing the pearls around your neck …

Titty fucking. Throat fucking. Ejaculating all over your sweaty sheen self. Jacking off through your thighs, your peachy hills, all to tease you so close to edge yet striving to be within you.

Of course, they let you have your way with them in kind. Their egos and hearts soar as you claim them, the bite marks and bruising sucks litter their lean firm vessels to match yours. The tattoos, the scars, those get you showering smooches like mad.

Whether hugging their waist or throwing them over their shoulders, they love to rub and grip your legs enough for fingertips to be left behind as your latch onto them is ironclad.

Weaving hands through each other's haphazard hair while tugging on them hair strands roughly amiss lust, interlocking their hands with yours that need that tether to keep hold onto through the hectic ride of orgasmic paradise.

Massaging your ever tight gummy caverns all to see your expressions of vulnerable passion, falling apart easily while stuffing their cream in you, hitting that sizzling bundle of nerves all to tip you over the edge.

Those feral groans, them unhinged moans, such breathless cries of euphoria with your name reading such a crescendo off their swollen wet mouths as they could never get enough of your vice grip firm enough to leave their fingerprints behind.

Your curling, squirming self crying and breathless as creamy goodness dripped down your valleys, their comforting warm bodies draping over your beautiful self, holding you while the highs of sex would soon calm down.

“Let me fight for you.”

“Laugh with you.”

“Cry with you.”

“Reshape the world for you.”

“Kill for you.”

“Protect you.”

“Rule with you.”

“Live life with you.”

“Love you.”

In this alternate universe, in a world full of vibrant people, with limitless possibilities and potential …

The shape of them — their very existences — ingrained in your type of mate. Partner. Perhaps the shape of their souls are all one in the same. All intense, driven and outrageous.

Maybe because of your preference in your former life. Through their voices all stemming from one. Perhaps your rooted desire for a significant other with that boundless voice created so many options and you finally hit the jackpot.

When the day comes you wake up amongst all nine men strewn about, bare to the bone the same as you, in sheen gleaming ecstasy, soiled sheets and pillows thrown about all over the spacious bedroom, as you smiled all dopey like at those peaceful sleeping dreamboats.

I feel like Orter is a very subtle guy. He's never cared about romance before, and you cannot tell that he has his eyes set on you.

Don't expect much from him. Perhaps a few unexpected words of praise, or a rare compliment about your looks, and that's it.

He doesn't let his cold expression go, not even in front of you. Thus, genuinely nobody has any idea that he likes you. He also performs just as well as usual, so the time he spends with you goes mostly unnoticed.

That being said, I think his love language is quality time. If you're up for it, he's more than willing to spend time with you - go on walks, study together, whatever you want, really.

─ The bustle of the town hadn't died down, even though it was starting to get darker. People went on about their business, but you weren't paying attention to that. Your attention instead was on the man walking next to you, with the same stern expression as always.

Orter, the Desert Cane, had recently been starting to grow closer to you. You didn't know what brought this on, but his presence in your life was appreciated.

"So.." you began, hoping to start a conversation. "Where exactly are we going?"

He was quiet, and for a second you thought he wasn't even gonna respond. "Where would you like to go?" He asked suddenly.

You had to think about that, caught a little off-guard by the question. Seeing the manner he walked, carrying himself with so much purpose, you thought he knew exactly where the two of you were going.

"Umm.. well, I've been hoping to get a new wand," you said, a bit sheepish. "You think we could stop by the shop?"

"Of course." He turned immediately in the direction where the shop was located. You smiled and gave a thankful nod, then followed after him.

Now, Kaldo is interesting. He's definitely a confident man, and he doesn't doubt that he can earn your love sooner or later.

He doesn't waste time at all. He immediately starts getting to know you, memorizing your favorite color, scent, food.. it goes on.

He's a gentleman with you. Or, well, he tries to be. Sure, he's a dangerous man when he needs to be, but with you, his less ruthless side comes out. He makes a point to sound softer when talking to you, make contact in gentle ways, that kind of thing.

He takes you out to his favorite restaurants frequently. He insists to be the one to pay every time. Whenever anyone asks him if it's a date, he just smiles and shrugs.

─ The sushi restaurant had been oddly quiet since the two of you entered. At first, you were confused by it.. but then, remembering the man with you was a Divine Visionary, it made a bit more sense.

To your surprise, Kaldo was a great listener. Every time you told a story, he listened with that signature smile of his, nodding and occasionally chiming in with a comment or two.

That was the case right now. You sat in front of him, telling him about an annoying encounter from the day before as he dripped some honey onto his sashimi. He certainly had a sweet tooth, that much you knew about him.

You'd already finished your share of the food by the time the story ended, yet your hunger remained as it was. You didn't want to tell him, though. It would only bother him, surely.

It didn't take long for him to notice. However much you tried to talk over your growling stomach, in a matter of minutes, he took notice.

"Are you still hungry?" He asked, his voice gentle. You reluctantly nodded. "Why didn't you say so? I'll order more for you."

"Are you sure?"

He gave you a look as if you'd just asked something entirely stupid. "Of course. I've got the money."

You couldn't help but smile. He was so generous with you.

"Thank you, Kaldo."

Rayne was caught totally off-guard by his love for you. It's like you came out of nowhere and he was attracted to you, like gravity pulled him in.. and, in a sense, that was kinda what happened.

He finds out you're in the same house as him - even better, you're good friends with Finn. So, what's the logical thing to do?

Ask him about you instead of talking directly to you.

...Yeah, he's not great at this, but he's trying.

As confident as he tries to seem, he can barely make eye contact with you, he's a mess when he's around you.. because, why do you make him feel this way?

He resorts to give you gifts in secret. He always asks his brother about what your favorite things are, what you currently need, or just what you like in general. He doesn't care how much money he spends, as long as you're happy. And, for now, he's content with watching from a distance. Atleast, until he's worked up the courage to ask you out.

─ White snow crunched under him as Rayne walked trough campus. He didn't have any work to complete - a rare occurance, admittedly - so he was lost in what he should be doing.

The sound of laughter caught his attention. Not just anyone's laughter, but yours.

He spotted you sitting under a tree, surrounded by you and Finn's friends. He stopped in his tracks to observe you. The way your lips curved upward every time Dot told a joke. Your amused chuckle as he threw snowballs at Lance and Mash. How you rolled your eyes at yet another one of Lance's rambles about his sister.

He was an observant man. He found all your little quirks and subtle habits fascinating.

The thing that caught his attention most, though, was the scarf wrapped around your neck.

The scarf he sewed for you.

He quickly looked away and put a hand on his cheek as soon as he noticed that they heated up. He would never admit it to anyone, of course, but seeing you with the gifts he secretly delivered you was one of the things he loved most.

He sighed. Oh, how deeply he'd fallen.

Okay, let's be honest. Mash has no experience with romance (aside from Lemon's pining, but that doesn't really count), he grew up in the middle of the forest with his dad. He has no idea how he's supposed to ask out a girl, or how to even show you that he likes you.

But because of his very obvious liking toward you, his friends notice quickly. And, luckily for him, Dot was more than willing to help, claiming he was "great with ladies".

His plans never work. Mash always freezes up before he could even say a single word to you, and ends up stuttering for a good five minutes before you gently help him out.

Instead, he opts to bring you gifts. He doesn't need to speak for that, after all. Though, he's a little out of touch and just assumes the average person likes the same things as him. But if he catches you talking about a specific thing you want, he'll try to get it for you.

He's not good at picking up hints at all. Unless you straight up tell him that you like him too, he will assume you only think of him as a friend at most.

─ You were lounging in your room, not having anything in particular to do. Bored out of your mind, you laid sprawled out on your bed and stared at the ceiling in complete silence.

In your daze, you hadn't noticed the door was left open, or that someone had come inside minutes ago.

"...Hey," Mash finally found the courage to speak up, making you notice his presence.

"Ah, Mash!" Your face lit up at the sight. You were just about to ask him what he was doing here, but before you could speak, a basket was shoved into your hands.

You looked back at the boy in confusion, but he didn't say anything. Instead, he looked at you with the same blank expression. The only thing which revealed how he was feeling was the slight blush on his cheeks, and the fact that he avoided your gaze at all cost.

You looked inside the basket, and you finally recognized what was inside. Cream puffs. Perhaps an unhealthy amount of them.

"Oh, Mash.. thank you, this is so kind of you-"

By the time you looked up again, he was gone.

You smiled to yourself and placed the basket down next to your bed. From the smell, you could tell they were freshly baked.

Fortunately for Mash, you couldn't see the way he panicked outside your dorm, or the obvious anxiety in his gaze after he left. Did you like it? What if you didn't?

The day after, he found a note sent to him. Two simple words written in your handwriting.

"Thank you."

Being the top student in the academy doesn't grant you a lot of time to think about getting a girlfriend. That's the excuse he told himself, until he met you.

I feel like he'd be into the more traditional kind of romance and courting. He buys you the occasional flower and helps you with tasks you can't do.

If you agree, he will definitely tutor you in whatever subject you're struggling in. He's surprisingly patient with you, too. If anyone asked him, he'd deny that his lingering touches were on purpose.

Dot always insults him over his way of courting - he thinks he should be more straightforward and bold, but Lance just ignores him.

─ "Did I do it right?"

You watched with slight anxiety as Lance scanned over your Magic Zoology homework. His eyes gave nothing away and he sat in such silence that you really couldn't tell what he was thinking.

"You did," he finally replied as he handed the paper back to you. "You got everything right. You've improved a lot."

You shot a sheepish smile at him. "Thank you.. it's all thanks to you, really. If you hadn't helped me out so much, I wouldn't have understood anything."

"Nonsense," he said. "You did just fine without me. I simply helped you realize your talent."

"I wouldn't say it's a talent.." you muttered, your gaze drifting away from him. Lance shook his head, but he clearly saw no point in arguing with you.

The two of you stared at each other for a moment longer. The silence, surprisingly, wasn't awkward at all. It felt.. oddly comforting.

"Well, I don't have anything else I need help with, so.." you started, eyeing the exit. "I can go now, if you want-"

"No." he cut you off. "There's no need. Please, stay for as long as you want."

You blinked at him in surprise, but quickly regained your composure and nodded with a big smile on your face.

And Mash, holding her on one arm and his son on the other, would answer completely seriously: "I'll lift it. If it falls, I'll lift it."

Every morning began the same way. Mash would go out into the yard barefoot, in a black tracksuit, with his two children perched on his shoulders like family crests. He would do push-ups, squats, and leg swings—while his son counted:

"One! Two! What's that?"

"Seventy-eight," Mash would say. "Or nine?"

"We lost count," his daughter would sigh. "We have to start over!"

After the exercise came the main event: cream puffs.

"Papa, why do you love them so much?" his daughter once asked, sitting on his lap.

"Because they're soft, sweet, and... they remind me how important it is to enjoy simple things."

"Are you like a pastry yourself?"

"Me?... More like a filled bun. Tough on the outside, soft on the inside."

Mash didn't always know exactly what to say. He didn't know how to explain what duty or the magic of friendship was. But he knew exactly what to do. When his son first fell and scraped his knee, he didn't lecture him, but simply gently picked him up, held him close, and said:

"It'll heal. Just get up."

"And if it doesn't heal?"

"Then I'll carry you. For as long as it takes."

One evening, when the children were scared by thunder, he built them a whole fortress out of pillows and blankets, lay down with them in the middle, and announced with a serious expression:

"This is our magic fortress. The thunder won't reach us here. I've given it a name."

"What is it?"

"'Fortress Cream Puff.'"

"That's silly!" the children laughed.

"It's a powerful name," he countered, handing each of them a cream puff.

Before bed, he would tuck the children into their beds, stroke their hair, and tell them stories. Sometimes about magic. Sometimes about cream puffs that came to life and defended their refrigerator from evil buns.

"We love you, Papa," the children would say in unison.

"..."

"Papa?"

"...Me too."

You looked down and nearly laughed. It was a ring—if you could even call it that. A crude band of silver, slightly bent, looking as if it had been crushed into shape rather than crafted properly. Which, knowing Mash, was exactly what happened.

"Mash," you said, still trying to process, "you… made this?"

He nodded. "I found some metal and squished it. Thought it’d be nice."

A snort escaped you. Of course he did. Of course Mash Burnedead, a man who crushed boulders with his bare hands, thought the best way to make a ring was to just squeeze it into existence.

You waved a hand, trying to push the conversation in a different direction. "Look, I don’t know if someone told you that you need to get married for extra school credits or something, but—"

"I want to be with you forever."

The words were simple. Direct. Said with such certainty that it almost made you pause. Mash was always like this—straightforward, dense in a way that somehow made him both endearing and terrifying. But this? This had to be a joke.

"Riiight," you said, humoring him. "And what, we’ll live in a house made of cream puffs? Spend our honeymoon lifting weights?"

Mash tilted his head. "If that’s what you want."

You sighed, shaking your head with a smile. "Alright, alright, very funny. But seriously, why me? I thought you only loved cream puffs."

He looked at you then—really looked at you. And for once, his usual blank expression shifted.

"I like cream puffs," he agreed. "But I’d choose you over them."

…Okay. That was new.

"You’ll marry me, right?" he asked again, stepping closer.

Suddenly, it didn’t feel like a joke anymore.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "Fine, whatever," you muttered, snatching the ring from his palm. "I’ll take it."

Mash’s expression didn’t change. He just watched you, silent for a moment, before giving a single nod.

"Okay."

You almost expected him to say something else, to press further, but instead, he just turned on his heel and walked away. No fanfare. No weird follow-up. Just left.

You glanced down at the ring, rolling it between your fingers. It was heavier than expected, slightly uneven, a little warm from his touch. A weird part of you almost felt bad for taking it without meaning anything by it. But whatever—he’d probably forget about it by tomorrow. This was Mash. The guy who thought about cream puffs more than anything else.

There was no way he was serious.

The next morning, you stretched and yawned, shaking off the strange conversation from yesterday. It was just Mash being Mash. He was probably already distracted by something else.

And sure enough, when you got to school, there he was—hanging out with the usual group, eating cream puffs like nothing had happened.

You let out a relieved breath. See? Back to normal.

You slid into your usual spot, chatting with some classmates, when Lance walked past, paused, then suddenly stared at your hand.

"…Where did you get that?"

"Huh?"

"The ring," he said, "Mash’s?."

Oh. Right. You’d totally forgotten you were still wearing it.

You waved a hand dismissively. "Oh, that? It’s nothing. He gave it to me as a joke, and I just took it so he’d leave me alone."

Lance’s face remained unreadable. "A joke...?"

"Yeah?" You frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Before he could answer, an arm suddenly draped over your shoulder, pulling you back against a solid chest.

"You’re wearing it."

You stiffened. He was close.

"You really kept it," he murmured, his breath ghosting against your ear. "That makes me happy."

Lance took a slow step back, exhaling sharply as if he suddenly wanted no part in this.

You tried to laugh it off. "Yeah, well, figured you’d forget about it if I just played along."

"I won’t forget."

"After all," Mash continued, his grip on your shoulder tightening ever so slightly, "you said yes."

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. "Fine, whatever"

You went to class, took notes, and avoided getting called on whenever possible. Dot tried (and failed) to impress some students, Finn got roped into cleaning duty, and Lance silently judged everyone from his seat. Everything was just as it always was.

Mash, for all his strangeness earlier, didn’t really interfere. He sat in his usual spot, munching on cream puffs like nothing had happened, answering questions with his usual blank honesty. Even when you passed by him between classes, he didn’t try to talk to you again.

See? You told yourself. Everything’s fine.

By the time lunch rolled around, you were feeling a lot better. You grabbed a tray of food and sat down, relaxing as you joined the usual conversation.

"You’re looking way too happy for someone with extra assignments" Dot pointed out, stabbing at his food.

"Right?" Finn sighed. "Must be nice not getting in trouble all the time."

You just smirked. "Hey, I’m just enjoying my peaceful day."

And for the rest of lunch, nothing weird happened. No sudden comments from Mash, no eerie stares, no overbearing presence at your side.

By the time the final bell rang, you were sure he must have forgotten all about that ridiculous proposal.

But as you walked back to your dorm, a shadow loomed behind you, and a familiar voice broke the silence.

"You’re happy today."

You turned slightly, offering a hesitant smile. "Uh, yeah. It was a good day. Why?"

"That’s good. I want you to be happy."

"Right," you said slowly. "Well, see you tomorrow then."

----

The duel was going smoothly—blasts of magic filled the air as students clashed, dodging and countering spells in rapid succession. You were locked in a friendly spar with a classmate, exchanging light attacks to practice your reflexes.

But then—something went wrong.

Your sparring partner’s spell veered off course, heading straight for you.

You barely had time to react before a blur of movement intercepted the attack. A loud crack echoed through the arena as Mash stepped in front of you, taking the hit without even flinching.

The problem?

He didn’t just take the hit.

He retaliated.

Before your classmate could even process what had happened, Mash was already on them. His grip closed around their wrist, crushing their wand in an instant.

"You almost hurt Y/N"

Your classmate paled, struggling to pull away. "I-It was an accident!"

Mash’s grip tightened. You had seen Mash’s strength before, but this… this was different. He wasn’t just reacting—he was angry.

"Mash!" you called, stepping forward, ignoring the tension in the air. "Let go."

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, finally, his fingers uncurled, releasing the terrified student, who stumbled back, clutching their bruised wrist.

You didn’t waste any time. You grabbed your injured classmate, helping them towards the infirmary, ignoring the lingering weight of Mash’s stare on your back.

The next class was flying. A much-needed break.

You sighed in relief as you hovered lazily in the air, chatting with a friend while drifting across the training field. It was peaceful. Relaxing. Nothing like the tension from earlier.

thud

Your friend jerked forward, their broom wobbling violently beneath them. Then, before they could react, they were falling. They hit the ground with a painful thump. The class went silent, then erupted into panicked shouts.

You immediately descended, landing beside them. They were conscious, groaning as they clutched their side. Not too badly hurt, but clearly shaken.

"What was that?" someone asked.

You turned, scanning the sky. Your friend’s broom was still spinning midair, knocked off course. But by what?

Then, you spotted it. A rock. A small, solid stone, lying a few feet away, like it had been thrown.

Slowly, you turned your head—

And met Mash’s gaze.

He stood at a distance, his usual blank expression in place. But his hands—his hands were dusting off something.

After making sure your friend was safely taken to the infirmary, you wandered the halls, lost in thought.

It was too much of a coincidence. The timing. The placement. And the way Mash had just stood there, dusting off his hands like nothing had happened.

You needed a second opinion. Someone who wasn’t Mash.

Which is why you found yourself looking for Lance.

You spotted him near the library, quietly flipping through a book. He didn’t even look up as you sat down beside him.

"You look stressed" he commented, turning a page.

"Because I am."

You hesitated for a moment before recounting what had happened. The duel. Mash’s reaction. And then the fall.

Lance finally set his book down "You think Mash caused it?"

"I don’t know," you admitted, running a hand through your hair. "But it makes too much sense, doesn’t it? And if he did do it, then—"

"Then you already know why." Lance finished.

Mash wasn’t complicated. He liked things simple, straightforward. And when something—or someone—got in the way of what he wanted, he removed the problem.

"If it was him, then there’s not much you can do. You can’t exactly stop Mash when he sets his mind on something."

You frowned. "There has to be a way. I need to—"

"You need to what?"

You turned your head slowly, heart hammering in your chest.

Mash stood there, hands in his pockets, his golden eyes locked directly on you.

Lance, to his credit, didn’t react. He simply picked his book back up, deciding that whatever this was, it wasn’t his problem.

You pushed back your initial unease, forcing yourself to stand. "Enough, Mash," you said, keeping your voice even. "If it was you, it needs to stop."

"Stop what?"

"You know what."

"I don’t understand"

"What do you actually want?"

Mash blinked. Like the thought had never even occurred to him.

"You."

"Mash—"

"You took the ring," he said. "That means you’re mine now."

You exhaled sharply, keeping your ground. "Then act like you deserve me," you said, meeting his gaze. "Not by pulling stunts like this."

"You can’t just decide I’m yours and expect me to be okay with it," you continued. Then, without hesitation, you pulled the ring from your finger and held it out. "Take it back."

For the first time, Mash’s expression flickered. But before he could do anything, you turned on your heel and walked away.

Or at least—you tried to.

The second you stepped forward, you heard movement behind you.

He was following.

You picked up the pace. So did he.

You groaned. "Oh, come on, Mash—"

The second you reached outside, you bolted for your broom. Without a second thought, you kicked off the ground, soaring into the sky.

Mash didn’t hesitate. He ran after you.

And somehow, despite the fact that you were literally flying, he was keeping up.

"That’s not fair!" you shouted, swerving to avoid him.

Mash just kept sprinting below, effortlessly dodging students, fences, small buildings. It was ridiculous. His legs were carrying him at inhuman speeds, his blank expression never changing.

At one point, you tried diving low to fake him out. He just jumped.

You barely dodged, yelping as he nearly grabbed the tail of your broom. "Oh, COME ON!"

Students were starting to notice.

"Is that—?"

"What is going on?"

"HELP!" you wailed, trying to put more distance between you. But flying took energy, and Mash… Mash was Mash.

Your stamina was running low.

Before you could react, something huge landed in front of you.

Mash.

He had leapt into the sky, arms crossed, waiting for you like it was nothing.

You barely stopped yourself before crashing into him. Panting, out of breath, you glared at him as you hovered in place.

"Apologize!" you demanded.

Mash tilted his head. "For what?"

"Mash."

Finally, he said, "…Sorry."

You squinted at him. There was no remorse in his voice. Not really. It was just a word. A placeholder.

You groaned, shoving a hand into his pocket. "Whatever. Just—here."

You pulled out a cream puff and stuffed it into his mouth before he could argue.

That, at least, seemed to work. His shoulders relaxed as he chewed, golden eyes softening slightly.

Mash, successfully pacified.

Satisfied, you huffed and turned away. But before you could react—

You felt something soft press against your lips.

Mash had pulled another cream puff from his pocket and shoved it directly into your mouth.

Your muffled yell of protest did nothing. He just held it there, watching as you instinctively bit into it.

You glared at him.

He blinked. "Good, right?"

You swallowed and groaned. "I hate you."

"No, you don’t."

----

The next day, you walked into school hoping that maybe—just maybe—Mash had finally calmed down.

That hope lasted five minutes.

The moment you stepped into the hallway, someone called your name. You barely had time to turn before—

BAM

A student was sent flying.

"What the—"

Then you saw Mash, standing right where the student used to be, flexing his fingers like he had just swatted away a bug. His blank expression didn’t change.

"Too close" he muttered.

"Mash, what the hell—"

Another student walked past, glanced in your direction—

BAM

You watched in horror as they collapsed like a sack of potatoes.

Mash nodded to himself.

"Much better."

"MASH."

But he wasn’t listening.

It kept happening. Every time someone so much as looked at you, they were either gently knocked unconscious or yeeted into the distance.

Someone tried saying good morning? Gone.

Someone smiled in your general direction? Launched.

The only people spared were your shared friends—Dot, Finn, and Lance (who was very pointedly ignoring the situation).

It was insane.

"Mash, STOP" you hissed, grabbing his arm after he shoulder-checked a random student into the wall. "You can’t just assault people because they exist near me!"

"Why not?"

"BECAUSE IT'S INSANE?!"

Mash tilted his head, like you had just said something completely ridiculous.

Then—it got worse.

You saw it happen in slow motion.

A teacher—completely oblivious—walked down the hall, calling out for students to get to class. Their eyes briefly flickered to you as they spoke—

Mash’s fist moved.

"MASH, NO—"

You lunged, grabbing his wrist just in time.

For a second, there was silence.

Mash blinked, looking at you, then at the teacher—who was completely unaware they had just narrowly escaped death.

Slowly, you dragged him away before he could do something unforgivable.

The moment you were out of earshot, you whirled on him. "ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TRYING TO FIGHT A TEACHER?"

Mash considered this for a moment. Then—completely deadpan—

"If they look at you, yes."

You ran a hand down your face. "Mash."

He didn’t even seem remotely guilty.

You exhaled sharply, trying to stay calm. "Mash. You can’t just destroy everyone around me. That’s not how this works."

"But they’re looking at you."

"That’s how people communicate!"

Mash paused. Then, as if considering a solution, he said, "You could wear a mask."

You almost strangled him.

"NO."

Mash blinked. Then, finally, he sighed, reluctantly nodding.

"Okay."

You stared. "Wait… really?"

Mash nodded. "If you don’t like it, I’ll stop."

You immediately felt suspicious. "Just like that?"

"Just like that."

You didn’t believe him. Not for a second.

But for now, you had to get to class. So you slowly backed away, watching him very carefully, before hurrying off.

Mash stood there, unmoving, watching you leave.

The school day was finally over. You sighed, stretching as you stepped out of the classroom, ready to go home. But the moment your foot hit the hallway floor—

Something felt off.

You looked down.

A circle was drawn beneath you.

Intricate symbols. Chalk lines. Completely useless magical runes.

And standing a few feet away—Mash, brows furrowed in deep concentration, both hands raised like he was trying to summon the power of the universe itself.

He grunted, fists clenching as he willed something to happen. Sweat dripped down his forehead from sheer effort. His lips moved, muttering something completely incomprehensible, as if the words alone could make magic bend to his will.

The students around you had stopped walking. A crowd was forming. People stared, some already whispering, some barely holding in their laughter.

You folded your arms, raising a brow. This should be good.

Finally, Mash dropped his hands, exhaling deeply. His expression was serious.

"What was that supposed to do?"

Mash straightened up, expression blank as usual. Then, as if it were completely normal, he said:

"A love spell."

The hallway fell silent.

Then—

Laughter erupted.

Students howled. People leaned against walls, clutching their stomachs. Even a passing teacher snorted, quickly covering their mouth as they walked away.

"Mash Burnedead trying to use magic?" someone wheezed.

"What was he gonna do, flex the spell into existence?"

"He thought he could just punch love into them—"

You dragged a hand down your face before grabbing him by the collar and yanking him away from the chaos.

"We’re leaving."

Mash, completely unaffected by the public humiliation, just let himself be pulled along.

Of course, it didn’t end there.

The teachers heard about it.

Which is how you ended up sitting in the office, arms crossed as a teacher scolded you both for causing a disruption and pretending to use magic (because honestly, no one believed Mash was capable of it).

"I don’t even know why I’m here" you muttered. "I didn’t do anything."

"You stood there" Mash said simply.

You shot him a look. "YOU were the one casting a nonexistent love spell."

Mash blinked, tilting his head. "You didn’t move, though."

You groaned, slumping against the chair.

Eventually, after a long-winded lecture, you were finally released.

As you stepped outside, the sky already darkening, you exhaled. "What a day…"

Mash walked beside you, hands in his pockets, unfazed as usual. Then, as if today’s events had been completely normal, he said:

"I’ll get you a proper ring."

Your head snapped toward him. "What?"

Mash kept walking. "A real one. A proper one. So you’ll stay with me forever."

You groaned, rubbing your temples. "You’re not giving up any time soon, huh?"

Mash turned to look at you with the most calm, absolute certainty in the world, he said:

"I’ll never give up on you."

----

The next morning, you couldn’t go to school.

Your whole body felt weak. Feverish. Even lifting your head felt like a chore.

You groaned, curling deeper under your blankets. Great. Just great.

You figured you'd just sleep through the worst of it, recover on your own like you always did.

But by midday—

There was a knock at your door.

…You already had a bad feeling.

You barely had time to process before the door opened anyway.

A familiar figure stepped inside.

You squinted at him, delirious from the fever. "Mash?"

You could barely register what was happening, but through hazy vision, you saw him moving around your room.

Cleaning up. Fixing things. Tending to you.

A cool cloth pressed against your forehead. Strong hands adjusting your blanket.

You shivered.

Through the fever, you could hear his voice—low and thoughtful.

"If you don’t like me back," he murmured, "should I just lock you up?"

You weren’t sure if you imagined it—if it was just the fever making you hallucinate.

The moment you stirred, Mash immediately shift from his position.

Then—like nothing had happened—he pulled out a container of food.

Not cream puffs.

Something actually nutritious.

…Which meant someone else clearly prepared it.

You blinked blearily as he grabbed a spoon, scooping up a bite of food. Then, he held it up to your lips.

"Eat."

You just stared.

Mash. Feeding you. Taking care of you.

You had never seen him do this for anyone.

Slowly, hesitantly, you opened your mouth. He placed the spoon between your lips, letting you take a bite.

You swallowed, staring at him. "…You didn’t make this."

Mash blinked. "No."

"Then why—"

"You weren’t at school."

You exhaled shakily, watching as he scooped up another bite, waiting patiently for you to accept it.

You had no energy to argue.

You sighed, leaning against the pillow.

"You’re not gonna stop, huh?"

Mash shook his head.

"You’re always going to be like this?"

A slow nod.

You closed your eyes.

…Whatever.

"Then I’ll accept it."

For just a moment, his fingers tensed around the spoon. He lifted another bite to your lips. And this time, his smile was unmistakable.

The next morning, you finally dragged yourself back to school, feeling exhausted but at least somewhat functional.

You had barely stepped onto campus when you started hearing it—whispers, hushed voices, people gossiping.

"Did you hear?"

"He actually managed to curse someone!"

"Yeah! That’s why they were sick yesterday—"

"And now they’re in love with him! The spell worked!"

You stopped in your tracks.

What?

You turned to the nearest group of students. "Excuse me?"

One of them gasped. "Ah—! They’re already defending him! The curse must be strong."

You grabbed them by the shoulders. "WHAT CURSE?!"

More whispers. More shocked expressions.

"See?! They don’t even deny loving him now!"

"Scary…!"

You stood there, absolutely baffled.

You glanced around. Everywhere, people were whispering.

Some looked terrified.

Others looked impressed.

Some were writing notes like this was an important research discovery.

And then—just to make things worse—someone actually said, "This is why you should never mess with Mash Burnedead…"

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face.

This is getting ridiculous.

You needed to clear this up.

But before you could even open your mouth—

You felt a shadow looming over you.

And there he was.

Looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

The students shuddered.

"Oh no."

"It's already too late."

"They’re completely under his control now."

You turned back to Mash, glaring. "Mash."

"Hm?"

"They think you CURSED ME."

"…Oh."

"SAY SOMETHING TO CLEAR IT UP."

Mash stared at you for a second.

Then, with zero hesitation, he turned to the crowd and said:

"I didn’t curse them."

Silence. Then, a girl whispered—

"That’s exactly what someone who successfully cursed them would say…"

Mash nodded. "Yes."

THE WHISPERS GOT WORSE.

You felt a migraine forming.

Before you actually lost your mind, you grabbed Mash’s wrist, dragging him away from the crowd.

The moment you were alone, you exhaled. "Mash.."

"You’re mad?"

"OF COURSE, I’M MAD—"

Mash gently grabbed your hand, cutting you off.

His thumb brushed over your fingers. Then, as if it were completely natural, he murmured:

"Doesn’t matter what they think."

His golden eyes locked onto yours.

"You’re already mine."

Your heart skipped a beat—for entirely different reasons this time. And for a second you had to remind yourself to breathe.

Then, with a sigh, you pulled your hand away. "Whatever. I don’t have the energy for this."

Mash followed beside you, "You should eat more if you don’t have energy."

You rolled your eyes. "That’s not what I meant—"

But Mash was already pulling out a cream puff.

You stared at it.

He stared at you.

You groaned. "Mash, I am not eating a cream puff first thing in the morning—"

Too late. He shoved it into your hands.

"Fine." You took a bite.

Mash looked pleased.

And just like that—life went on.

The rumors stayed, of course.

People still whispered every time you walked by.

Some avoided you entirely, convinced Mash had cursed you beyond saving.

Others just watched you with interest, like they were witnessing a legendary event.

But honestly? You didn’t care anymore.

You went to class. You did your assignments.

You ignored the fact that Mash literally knocked out a guy yesterday for asking to borrow your notes.

You pretended not to notice when he sat just a bit too close during lunch.

And when he not-so-subtly started waiting outside your classroom after every lesson—

Well.