#rollo x reader

Rollo is a man that has a routine, and always follows it to a T. One of them includes waking up at 5 in the morning. He stood and went to the bathroom to get himself ready for the day.

Once he finished with his shower, he passed by the sink mirror. He stared in the mirror, at the reflection of himself, before sighing, exiting the bathroom to get dressed.

☔

At exactly 6:30am, he exited his house and the first thing he did was checking his mailbox, as he usually does. There's a few letters from his family, but he'll read them once he gets home. And of course, at this time his neighbor, a gentle old lady, was outside watering her plants and noticed him.

“Oh dear, good morning Rollo! Off to school now?” She greeted him cheerfully. He nodded, returning her greetings with a short one of his own. He doesn't see the need to ask, they always see each other every morning, yet she keeps repeating the same greetings, and he always responds with the same answer.

Not that he'll say that to her, though. He always made sure to keep his manner of speech polite.

With another curt nod to his neighbor, he set off to school.

☔

As soon as he stepped into the school ground, other students he passed by greeted him. He politely greeted them back, even if it annoys him. Really, why does everyone seem keen on exchanging greetings as though they don't meet every day? If you ask him, it's a waste of time. Those times they spent on greeting each other could be used on doing better stuff.

He sat at his desk in the student council office, and immediately started working on sorting the paperwork from the previous day. He still has time before class starts.

☔

By sunset, he had finished all necessary documents and had handed them to the dean, and he decided to take whatever he had yet to finish home, lest he feel restless with nothing to do. Of course, if he could, he would love to stay longer to finish all the remaining work, but alas, the school forbids entries after the usual working hour to all personnel, and he's no exception.

Thankfully, most students had already gone home for the day. He would rather not spend more time on idle chatter or small talk.

His house and the school are fairly close, so it doesn't take long for him to get home. As soon as he stepped inside, he immediately made his way to his study to finish the remaining work.

But he didn't get to take more than a single step when someone knocked on his door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so the sudden intrusion annoyed him.

At first, he decided to ignore it and went ahead to his study. If it's not urgent they can return another time. But the person is very persistent, knocking not twice, not thrice, but four times, with only a few seconds in between each knock. By the fifth time, it's clear they aren't backing down.

With a heavy sigh, he dropped his bag onto the living room sofa, and unlocked the door. He thought it'd be the vice president or other student council member, maybe even his neighbor needing his assistance with switching the lightbulb again.

He certainly didn't expect the prefect to be standing in his doorway.

You perked up as soon as you saw him. “Rollo! It's been a while!” greeted a very familiar voice. He looks down to see Grim, who's holding a gift box, smirking, “The great Grim is taking the time of his day to see you, you should be honored!” He said smugly.

Rollo’s eyes caught the big white box you're holding, alongside boxes that's wrapped beautifully under it, (he won't admit it but he's a bit impressed you're balancing it all in your arms without any of it slipping) but before he could say anything, you interject.

“Happy birthday!” You cheerfully exclaim, slightly holding up the boxes in your arms, carefully as to not drop any. “We're here to celebrate your birthday with you!”

He blinks. Right, it's his birthday, he had forgotten. It's nothing unusual though, he never really cared to celebrate it.

“I don't celebrate birthdays.” He stated blankly, unsure what to say. It didn't deter you, though. “Too bad, because I do.” You responded, your smile unmoving even at his cold demeanor. “We brought cake and gifts! Can we come in?”

‘No, leave.’ is what he would've answered had it been any other Night Raven College student, but this is the prefect, a magic-less person and someone, if not the only person, he tolerates.

And Grim, because of course. They're a package.

“Fine,” He said begrudgingly as he stepped aside, letting them both enter. “It would be rude not to.”

☂️

Once they're inside, he closed the door behind them. Grim seems to already make himself at home, floating around the house, looking around.

The prefect, on the other hand, put the boxes of, what he assumed are gifts, on the living room table, before moving on to the kitchen. He followed closely behind you.

“What are you doing?” He asked with his hand crossed as he watched you scavenging around his cabinets to take out some dishware. “Don't you know it's quite rude to intrude on someone's living space without asking?” He said with a raised brow, finger tapping on his forearm.

You simply hummed. “Well, you can't eat the cake without plates and utensils right?” you stacked the plates and put them aside as you opened the box, revealing a white cake with strawberries on the top.

“I wasn't sure what flavour you liked, so I went with the classic, vanilla.” You smiled. Pulling out a chair, beckoning Rollo to sit on it. “Today's your special day, so sit tight and I'll handle the serving!”

Rollo frowned. “I'm not a big sweet person.” He said, but sat down nonetheless. He's not sure why, he usually hates being around others for a long period of time, but he doesn't hate it when it comes to the prefect.

You unboxed the cake, carefully as to not damage or ruin it, and placed candles on top. You placed the last candle and stepped back to inspect your work. Grim hovered nearby, already eyeing the strawberries with blatant hunger.

“Can't we cut the cake already?! I'm starving!” Grim complained, flailing his hands.

You laughed, “Patience Grim, only one more thing!” You said, slapping Grim's hands(paws?) away as he keeps trying to steal one of the strawberries.

Rollo's arms crossed as he leaned back on his chair as he watched the scene. He watches as you take out a box of matches from your pocket. You light up one of the matches, missing how Rollo tensed up, and light up the candles.

He quickly relaxed his shoulders, not wanting to show any sign of distress. The soft glow of the candle reflected faintly in his eyes. Usually, the sight alone would make him feel…. unsettled, reminding him of that day. And while the unsettled feeling is present, it surprisingly doesn't feel unpleasant, unfamiliar, maybe, but certainly not unpleasant.

You stand back, smiling at your handy work, “Alright,” you turn to him. “Make a wish!” Rollo raised a brow.

“That's unnecessary.” He replied immediately. “I don't believe in ‘wishes’.”

You tilted your head, “Humor me.” you said, your smile undeterred. “Or, you don't have to wish for anything, just think of something you want!”

‘Isn't that basically the same thing?’ Rollo thought, but didn't say it out loud.

He hesitates, for a moment, he considered refusing outright, but seeing your expectant expression made him rethink.

“...Very well,” he said, at last.

He leaned forward slightly. Not closing his eyes like people usually would. Nor is he clasping his hands. Instead, he stared at the crackles of the fire (that is oddly soothing), mind racing.

Then, he blew out the candles, leaving traces of faint smoke in the air that left as quick as they appeared.

You clapped your hand. “Happy birthday Rollo!” You said cheerfully.

Grim jumped happily. “Finally! Now hurry and cut the cake, hench-human!” He demands. You chuckled as you began cutting the cake and plating it.

You passed one to Rollo first, your hand accidentally brushing against his. It was a small touch, barely a brush, barely noticeable.

Yet, Rollo stiffens.

You also paused, “Ah–sorry!” you said sheepishly, face tinted red in embarrassment.

“It's fine,” he said quickly, though he didn't pull his hand away immediately, ignoring the way his heart jumped.

Grim, oblivious as ever, immediately dove into his slice. “Mnn! Now that's what I'm talking about!” He cackled as he stuffed his mouth full. “See! Birthdays aren't so bad!”

Rollo ignored him. His attention diverted to the slice in his plate, before taking a tentative bite. You watch him do so with an expectant expression.

“... It's acceptable.” He admitted after a moment.

You smiled, “High praise coming from you.”

They engaged in small talks, but mostly stayed in comfortable silence. Well, other than Grim’s loud chewing and occasional comments.

☂️

Grim sighed contently, rubbing his stomach. “Now THAT'S some good stuff.” He cackled, patting his stomach before yawning. “All that food makes me sleepy. I'm gonna take a nap!” He announced as he floated to the living room. Probably to nap on the sofa. Rollo didn't even bother to scold him for being too comfortable, he simply tapped his finger on his forearm irritatedly.

You chuckled as you watched him float away, before standing up to collect the plates and stacking them. Rollo raised a brow at your action, silently asking, and of course, you noticed his questioning look.

“I can't let you do the dishes on your own birthday.” You said, carrying the stack to the sink. Rolling your sleeves, you're about to turn on the tap when a shadow looms over you. You turn around to see him already standing next to you.

“It would be rude to leave it to guests.” He said.

“I'm already here aren't I?” You counter, already starting to wash the dishes under Rollo's watch. He didn't say or do anything else, simply watched you. Instead, he takes a dry cloth, gesturing for you to pass the wet dishes to him. You did so wordlessly.

You stood side by side, working in a rhythm. You're close enough that he could feel the warmth of your presence. Each time you handed him a plate, your shoulder brushed against his.

This time, though, neither of you moved away immediately.

As you passed him one of the last plates, his hand worked slower. “You didn't have to do this,” he said quietly, eyes fixated on the plate.

“I know,” You replied just as softly, “but I want to.”

He turned his head to you before he knew he was doing it, realizing that you were closer than he thought. Close enough that he can see the slight curve of your lashes, the way your lips parted when you breathe.

Neither of you moved.

The kitchen felt smaller than it had a second ago. Too still, too quiet. The only sound was the drip of water from the tap. Even the distant ticking of the clock suddenly seemed too loud.

Rollo realized, distantly, he had stopped drying the plate in his hand.

Your movement had slowed too. The last plate hovered between you, waiting for him to take it off your hand. When you looked up, your gaze met his steady, unreadable one, unmistakably focused on you.

You were close.

Too close, by his standard.

Yet he couldn't help but focus on things he usually won't dwell on. Like the faint warmth rising to your cheeks, the way your breathing had gone shallow without you seeming to notice.

Without thinking, he leaned in.

You did the same.

For a moment, the world feels smaller.

The distance between you narrowed until it was measured in breaths. Your forehead almost aligned with his, the space between your faces warm and fragile, like glass stretched too thin. Rollo’s eyes flicked down for half a second, just long enough to realize how dangerously close your lips were.

The realization struck like cold water.

He stiffened, stepping back abruptly, the plate clinking softly as he set it down on the counter. His expression returned to something composed, his familiar expression, though his ears burned faintly beneath his hair.

“This is…sufficient,” he said, clearing his voice with a cough, making him sound steadier than he felt. “The dishes are done.”

You blinked, startled, then nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah. Looks like it.” you said, a hint of teasing in your tone as you tried pretending your cheeks aren't flushed from earlier.

An awkward silence followed, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt…unfinished.

Rollo turned away first, hanging the cloth with more care than necessary. His thoughts were… unsettled. Not unpleasant, no, he would not describe it that way, but undeniably disruptive.

Once he dried his hands, he turned to walk back to the living room.

As he walked back toward the living room, he spoke again, quieter this time, without looking at you.

“…Thank you. For today.”

You turned to him in shock, wondering if you had misheard him somehow, but was only met with his retreating back.

It wasn't a grand gesture per se, but it's enough to make your heart flutter.

You finish drying your hand and quickly catch up to Rollo in the living room.

Rollo's gaze swept over the crowd, seemingly consuming the energy of the fervent believers who prayed with fervor. Their knees ached from the continuous effort, their eyes barely daring to open until the prayer ended. He smiled.

"Beware of those who do not want to be like you! For they are wolves, who want to steal the sheep from the flock. Therefore, kill those wolves! For it is not the wolf's throat that should be the sheep's slaughter, but rather the shepherd's slaughterhouse."

The silence that followed was not one of peace, but of a potent, volatile absorption. It hung heavy in the chapel air, thick with incense and the sweat of conviction. Rollo let it simmer, his hands resting on the edges of the pulpit as if channeling a divine current. His eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned the bowed heads, finding not submission, but a kindling fury.

"Look around you," he commanded, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush that forced them to strain to listen. "Look at the purity of your neighbor's devotion. This is the flock. This is the sacred unity. But beyond these walls…" He let the sentence trail, his gaze lifting to the stained-glass windows, where the sunlight painted serene scenes of saints. "Beyond is the wilderness. And in the wilderness, they walk."

A low murmur rippled through the congregation. A woman in the front row clenched her rosary until her knuckles turned white. A man beside her set his jaw, his eyes hardening.

"They do not kneel. They do not accept the blessed structure of the shepherd and the fold. They question the path to the slaughterhouse of salvation, calling it cruelty." Rollo's lip curled, a beautiful, beatific contempt. "They champion the chaos of the wolf's chase over the ordained peace of the shepherd's knife. They say we are prisoners. They say we are blind."

He slammed a fist onto the pulpit, the crack echoing like a gunshot. Several worshippers flinched, not in fear, but in ignited passion. A bunch of puppets in his hands to manipulate and play with. "They are wrong! The wolf's freedom is a lie! It is starvation, terror, a lonely death in the dark! The slaughterhouse is light! It is a purpose! It is a warm, sure hand guiding you to a glory you cannot yet comprehend!"

Rollo leaned forward, his voice becoming intimate, dripping with a terrible tenderness. "I see your struggles. I see the world pulling at you, with its false songs and its glittering, empty promises. It tries to make you wolves. It tries to make you forget the sweet, simple truth of the sheep. Your devotion here is a battle. And I am your general."

He straightened, throwing his arms wide. "But a general does not only defend! To secure the peace of the fold, he must clear the wilderness! We must not merely guard our hearts against the wolf's ideas… we must hunt the wolves themselves! For every wolf you convert or drive away, you strengthen the flock. For every wolf you silence," his voice dropped again, lethally soft, a testament of his compromise to his church; rather, his deity. You.

While everyone was happy to play their parts in his little game, yet you still clung to concepts like independence and freedom.

A foreigner who stole his heart, his breath, and then after you had cast your spell on him, you planned to go back to your country, as if all those shared glances, soft smiles and greetings had meant nothing to you.

Rollo’s gaze found specific individuals in the crowd, the burly carpenter, the stern-faced schoolteacher, the mother who had lost a child to illness and found solace only in his words. He spoke to them now, directly into their souls.

Because they suited his needs now.

"Your hands that build, let them build barriers against the predators. Your minds that teach, let them teach the young to recognize the snarling lies. Your hearts that grieve, let them find solace in protecting other lambs from the jaws that would tear them from the flock." He brought his hands together in a prayerful gesture, his expression transforming into one of sublime, sorrowful resolve.

He prayed for you, even if he was thinking of defloring you multiple times in a row.

A fervent "Amen!" burst from the carpenter, loud and raw. It was followed by another, and another, rising into a chorus of righteous agreement. The kneelers were forgotten; now they stood, backs straight, eyes blazing. The aching knees were now a badge of endurance, a precursor to action.

God was proud of them for that.

Rollo smiled, a true, radiant smile that held the chill of a glacier. He had taken their fear, their insecurity, their longing for order, and had forged it into a weapon. He had transformed the passive promise of a serene salvation into an active crusade. The slaughterhouse was not just a destiny; it was a reward for the faithful, and its guarantee was ensured by the extermination of anything that threatened it.

"Go now," he said, his voice swelling to a triumphant crescendo. "Go with the peace of the flock in your hearts and the strength of the shepherd in your spirit. Be vigilant. Be discerning. And be not afraid to cleanse, for in cleansing, you sanctify. Go, my blessed sheep. And may your watchfulness be the proof of your faith."

The congregation streamed out, not with the quiet contentment of a usual service, but with a charged, buzzing energy. Conversations were hushed but intense. Eyes darted, not in paranoia, but in sharp assessment of the world outside the chapel doors, a world suddenly reclassified as a hunting ground.

For, if they were hunters, anyone who deviated from the path Rollo had set for them would surely be chased and brought to him.

Alone in the suddenly empty chapel, the scent of zeal lingering like gunsmoke, Rollo slowly descended from the pulpit. He approached the large crucifix behind the altar, looking up at the figure of the suffering savior for a fleeting moment.

Then, he went to the anteroom beside the pulpit with a growing anxiety. He spent hours preaching, the sound of his voice surely floating in the air for you to hear. There he found you, still tied to the bedpost for resisting earlier.

The sermon was over. The hunt, however, had just begun.

"Étoile, have you thought about what you did?" Nickname rolled off his tongue so easily that your insides churned. Fearful, albeit not regretful.

Never regretful for fighting for yourself.

You remained silent, lips pressed into a thin line as you turned your face to the other side. For someone who liked to manipulate, Rollo was manipulable if you played your cards right. For now, you were feeding into his desperation for connection, for any scrap of attention he could have from you.

And he would find none.

Above all, the referred wolf he so liked to cite was you.

Wolfish smile getting wider on your lips as you watched him pacing the room out of the corner of your eye.

"I'm sorry... do your wrists hurt?" He asked, trying to fill the silence with his mumbling as he rearranged the rope so it wouldn't ache too much against your skin. "Oh my sweet péché, I know all this stubbornness is all the enemy's doing. I'm going to cleanse you, remade you, bring all the good in you."

His promises were unnerving and unsettling, even more because he seemed so sure, so out of reality, as if dreaming a vivid dream without realizing it. Not even your attitude could help you.

"Then-" his voice got lost in the noise of your head as you watched his lips moving, breath got in your throat as you did what was necessary for your peace, sealing his lips with yours.

A chaste, gentle kiss that melted him entirely.

You were disgusted by it; but you had a plan and for it to work, as delusional as he was with his savior complex, he had to believe you.

"I... was lonely." You tried to appear vulnerable and weak, staring at him as tears fell from your eyes. Not happy tears to be comforted by him, though, those were tears of repulse. "I missed you. Stay with me. Please."

Through gritted teeth, you managed to mumble out. Letting the pain in your wrists and arms be your fuel to bear it, to endure it for as long as necessary.

If Rollo could see the doubts and self-loathing, he was rejoicing quietly at his small victory. He sat beside you, pulling you to his chest as his arms closed around you like a cage. The smell of chamomile was not calming, was revolting.

Insulting. Humiliating.

He didn't know you were the one who patched everyone up after every overblot. You brought tea to an anxious Jamil. You were the shoulder Leona pretends he doesn't need to lean on and the calm voice that talks to Riddle when he remembers the pressure he endured from his mom.

Rollo doesn't know that you smile, you listen, you’re the heart of NRC without opening your mouth to complain - and who would even listen to you? Crowley doesn't even care. Grim brags about you, the boys trust you, and everyone thinks you’re just so brave for handling everything thrown at you.

And you are brave.

But it’s a bravery born of pure, unadulterated terror.

Because you? You've been on the front lines of every. Single. Overblot. You've felt the world warp with malice, breathed in the choking miasma of corrupted magic, and watched the light leave your friends' eyes as they were possessed by magic in its corrupted form. You’ve been tossed around like a ragdoll by world-ending power, not once, but over and over.

You have nightmares about black blots, the scent of ink, and the sound of a crackling, broken laugh.

Until Rollo Flamme, that is.

So you hide it. You hide it so well. But you still flinch at a loud spell and pass it off as being startled, even if your hands are trembling and your tongue got tangled in your mouth. You have a moment of paralysis in magic history class and call it a daydream.

You are performing a full-time, one-act play titled “The Perfect, Unshakable Prefect,” and you are winning awards.

His eyes were watching every move you've made, every twitch, every shaky breath. You look like a haunted person living in hell, and Rollo, who had also lived there, could tell.

He sees the trauma. He sees the survivor.

He acknowledges it.

He is the first and only person who looks at you and doesn’t see the brave hero, the resilient Prefect, the universal therapist.

So Rollo does the best thing he can think of, he takes you somewhere secluded while everyone is distracted.

You’re two sides of the same scarred coin: one who wants to burn the system down, and one who is just trying to survive the burns it’s already given you. And in that twisted, painful space, something dangerously close to interest pestered his heart. Rollo wants to hold, despite being a reserved person, wants to reassure you that everything will be alright, because he'd create a fair world. For you.

For no-mages.

And something in your carefully constructed composure cracks, as he guides you to sit down beside him.

"It's rough, isn't it?" He asked. But it's a rhetorical question, one that left you to be the one guiding the conversation. He offers an ear to hear you, but he won't force you to talk if you don't want to.

Talking can only help so much, but pressing on this matter can make it hurt more. Rollo is patient, rubbing the skin of your hand and offering something nobody thought to do; a shoulder to lean on, one you could wet with your tears.

"It's alright," he mutters oh so softly like a vow. Because it is a vow to do better, to try harder.

He wipes your tears with his handkerchief, the same one he would smell in the comfort of his room, alone, for these tears are sacred, waiting for them to enter his body, to purify him of the sin running on his veins.

"But isn't..." His heart cracks when he hears your voice, weak and fragile, as you clung to normalcy, to your strong persona, even if he can see right through it and there's nobody else there for you to perform to. "Magic is a burden... nothing good came from it. It's evil. It hurts."

His hands trembled, not daring to cross a boundary, but he didn't need to. You let your head fall to his chest, as your whole body shakes with each sob wracking you. His arms wrapped around you.

"I don't like NRC anymore. I want to go home. Why can't I go home?"

He felt tongue-tied, but he had experience comforting his young brother. Gently pulling you closer, letting the warmth of his body calm you down, rubbing your back as he hummed a song long forgotten.

"I don't know." He answered, dejected.

Extinguish magic, he could solve. But opening a portal to another world? Rollo had never heard about it. Even if he found something about it, he wouldn't do anything.

Because you were better here, in his arms, than you would be safe anywhere else.

"But I can help you create a new home, if you let me." You looked at him, knowing he couldn't do it. But he was trying, and him just trying to calm you, listening when nobody had ever done those things, got a smile on your face that it was genuine.

⸝⸝ ꒰ FELLOW HONEST & GIDEL ꒱ ⸝⸝

❝ From now on you may call us Fellow Honest and Gidel! ❞ You felt your eye twitch. The ceramic mug in your hand would have certainly splintered by now if it wasn't for the fact that you refused to waste a perfectly good appliance on someone as infuriating as Ernesto, er, Fellow.

"What?" The mug slightly shakes in your hold as you bring it to your lips, drinking a nice long sip of tea. Something Rollo had brought when he had moved in; said it relaxed him. From the fast beating of your heart, the calming effects weren't working as desired. "Why would you choose that as your name?"

Ernesto Fellow brought a hand to his chin, a contemplative expression on his face. Suddenly he snapped his fingers like he suddenly got an idea. "Well, it was between that or Ernest Friend."

"Why would it be between that or Fellow Honest!" You slammed the mug onto the table, chair legs screeching against the wooden floor as you shoot up from your seat. "Those are the fakest sounding names ever!"

Fellow theatrically sighs, leaning back in his chair across from you, not granting you a response. You feel your blood pressure spike the longer you stare at his stupidly smug face.

To distract yourself you turn your head to the younger sibling. Gino Gidel's as quiet as ever, his head just barely reaching the table he sits at. He gleefully sips on the hot chocolate you bitterly made for him.

It's hard to stay mad when looking at a kid so cute, though that feeling quickly vaporizes as he catches your glance and shares the smug expression of his older brother. With one hand still holding the hot chocolate, he grabs his comedically large mallet and waves it at you in some sort of warning.

You have the irrational urge to throw a chair at him.

Turning your attention back to Fellow, you cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. "I know the security isn't outstanding but how did you manage to sneak into Night Raven. Or better yet, Ramschakle!" You find yourself glaring at the walls, hoping that the ghosts hiding within can sense your agitation.

Vocalizing a 'tsk, tsk', Fellow straightens up with concerning speed, grinning at you like he just won the lottery. He folds his hands together, eyes sharp. "Me and that stu—sharp headmage of yours came to an agreemen—"

"You blackmailed him didn't you."

His smile droops, eyes narrowing. "Has anyone told you how annoying you are?"

⸝⸝ ꒰SKULLY J. GRAVES꒱ ⸝⸝

❝ Get down from there! What on Earth are you three doing?! ❞ The trio froze like weeping angel statues, standing completely still even when you stomped over to the nice stack they created; Fellow held a sitting Rollo on his shoulders while Rollo had a standing Gidel on his. The closest you had seen the three be since the brothers had moved in. (You couldn’t remember the last time they were in each other’s vicinity without an argument starting. Or worse, a fistfight.) Gidel stood on his tippy-toes on Rollo's shoulder, hands reaching out and almost grasping a painting that hung from the wall.

"Cleaning." A scoff escaped your throat as you peered up at him. You certainly hadn't expect Rollo (whom you considered the most reliable in this dorm of villains) to play along. They didn't even have any cleaning appliances in their hands!

You pointed an accusatory finger in Fellow's face, he took a step back, causing the two on his shoulders to gasp. "You're trying to take down the painting!"

Immediately cracking under your accusation, he got in your face, the two on his shoulders wobbled. "I don't want that creepy thing watching us eat!"

"You're so rude! Don't insult him!"

"You've already lost it! You're talking about it like it's a person!"

"That's because--" Your words caught in your throat. You adverted your gaze from Fellow's, voice mellowing out. "He is--was one." For some odd reason, you felt protective of white-haired boy depicted in the frame.

Fellow gave you a bewildered look, confused by your random change in personality. Before he could comment on it, Rollo cut through the tension.

"Where did you acquire such a painting? I know you don't have the funds for such an antiquity." You grew awfully quiet, looking down at your feet and playing with your hands.

"y'know...I just...came across it."

There was silence for a moment. Fellow's head tilted to the side, then like a light bulb appeared above his head, brightened and straightened his head back into its original position with a soft 'pop!'. His jaw dropped, ears perking up.

"You stole it from the headmage!"

You snapped your head back up. "I did not!"

A boisterous laugh escaped Fellow's throat, he threw his head back, at least as much as he could with two people still on his shoulders. Rollo stared down at you with a disapproving look. You had no doubt that if he could move his arms from supporting Gidel's legs he would be using them to cover his face with his handkerchief.

"It did suddenly appear after you said Crowley forced you to clean out a storage room." Rollo surmised. "I heard Grim mumbling something about Halloween."

"Who do you think I am?" You huffed. "I would never--"

"hmm, was that not what happened?"

An unfamiliar voice. The four of you froze and like a cheesy horror movie, slowly turned your heads towards the source of the sound.

A translucent face poked out from the painting, red eyes that Fellow complained about glanced at all of your faces. Taking each one in. A sheepish grin emerged on his white face.

"Boo?"

There was a sharp inhale. Your heart skipped a beat, Fellow took a step back, Rollo's mouth open to shout something, Gino wobbled, only inches away from the ghost's face.

"Place us dow-!"

A high-pitched yell reverberated throughout the hall as Fellow hightailed it out of there, barely making it a few steps before two bodies crushed onto him, and then to the floor.

You remained frozen, eyes unmoving from the boy as he fully stepped out of the painting. The faint familiarity you felt spread like a fire on a dry bush, but for the life of you, you couldn't pinpoint from where.

"Ah, I'm sorry!" He floated down to the pile of groaning bodies on the floor. "I didn't mean to scare you all that badly!"

You weren’t fond of the sudden increase in roommates that you had gotten in the past few weeks, but for some odd reason your heart seemed to soften. This situation was technically your fault, wasn't it? It was now your responsibility to take care of the ghost you had brought into your home.

⸝⸝ ꒰OMAKE꒱ ⸝⸝

—❝ Mwrah! I’m hungry! What’s for dinner tonight? ❞ Grim squirmed in your grasp, nails awkwardly digging into your shirt.

You pulled him away from your body, holding him by his armpits. "Stop fighting me! We'll figure it out when we get there!"

You heard Rollo scoff and Fellow giggle from somewhere behind you. Slightly turning your head over your shoulder, your eyes narrowed as you watched the two attempt to hide their smirks, Rollo with a gloved hand over his mouth and Fellow with stuffing his face into his shoulder.

At least they were getting along. Even if it was at your expense.

Contemplating Grim's question, you held him on your shoulder, ignoring his annoyed yelps. All the leftovers had been finished the night before so that was out of the question. You could order takeout? But that would involve you having to go into to town to pick it up. It was either that or paying the extra delivery fee to get it delivered to some random building at the back of an arcane academy. Furthermore, you were pretty positive that this group wouldn't be able to scrounge up the cash for such a thing. That only left one option, making your own dinner. With a freehand, you ruffled Gidel's hair as you overtook his weirdly large strides. But what? Searching through your mind you suddenly gasped, make the three behind you temporarily pause.

“Oh wait!" You twirled around the face the three, ignoring the squawk of Grim still on your shoulder. "There was a mini sale at Sam’s on Monday. I bought some romaine. We could totally make a salad.” Fellow made a face, but didn’t complain. Gidel skipped along the stone path at a slightly faster pace, enthusiastically rubbing him stomach.

“Ugh, Salads?” Grim finally scrambled out of your hold. “I want tuna!”

Shaking your head, you sighed. “Well I could throw in some tuna in,” Grim perked up. “But only if you do your homework!” The direbeast nodded his head enthusatically.

Rollo’s steps paused from behind you. “Romaine?” He readjusted his bag, giving you a quizzical stare at your steps slowed to match his. “Are you referring to the lettuce?”

Oh right. The Roman Empire didn’t exist here. You never would’ve thought that would have mattered.

“Oh..yeah.” Guess you learn something new every day. "But anyway," you cleared your throat. "Epel said the package of his apples should've made it today. The ghost should've been able to bring it in." Fellow's face brightened, and much like his brother, he too had an increased pep in his step.

The dorm came into view just as the sun started to sink below the skyline. Grim ran ahead, on all fours, and quickly hopped up the steps of Ramshackle. Just as he reached for the doorknob, a translucent face passed through, widely smiling at the direbeast. In return, Grim yowled and scurred back over to your side, shouting obscenities at the ghost.

"Hey Skully," You instinctively held out your hand. Like clockwork he place a cold kiss onto the back of your palm. Your head turned side-to-side, observing the empty front porch. "I take it you brought in Epel's package?"

The ghost grinned, flying is slow, languid circles over your head. "Of course! I made sure the other ghosts didn't scare that poor delivery boy....too badly." Then, as if suddenly remembering the other roommate existed, he floated over to them.

Grim, still angry at the scare, swatted as Skully neared, his paw not doing anything but going through his body. Skully relented and made his way to Rollo.

The teen in question gracefully side-stepped the ghost with a practiced ease, making his way to the side of the dorm. "I will be harvesting the grapes if you need me." He shot a glare at the ghost. "Don't follow."

As Rollo trotted off, Fellow attempted, key word attempted, to sneak past the spirit, only to shout as if his tail had been stepped on as Skully's kiss graced his hand. With a disgusted expression, the man trudged inside, muttering something about washing his hands. You yelled at him to grab the apples while he was in the kitchen.

Unlike his brother, Gidel accepted his fate and only looked away as Skully kissed the back of his covered hand. The boy made his way inside and the door slammed behind him.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Skully awkwardly laughed, continuing to spin in circles around you.

"Good day?"

"As good as it can be."

The hours passed by quickly. Just as agreed, sitting on a highchair at the dining room table, Grim was doing his homework. Or, at least attempting to. Skully floated behind him, pointing out questions that he got wrong. The teen was definitely trying his best to explain the concept, though he seemed a little out of his element. Whether that was because he had been dead for while and had simply forgotten or he hadn't actually died as a teenager, you weren't quite sure.

Heaving the tray out of the oven, you were delighted to see a handful of dehydrated apples in prime condition. You felt the presence behind you before you saw it. Instinctively, you slapped the hand away from you, grabbing a long cooking spoon, turning around, and slapping the vagrant in one smooth motion.

Fellow feigned pain, holding his arms over his face. He attempted to smile, put on a facade of professionalism, though you could see irritation swimming in his eyes. "Hey! Hey! I just wanted a taste. I need to make sure you're doing it right." You scowled, holding the spoon over your head as he attempted to reach and pluck one from the tray.

"You can wait ten minutes!" Your eyes searched for a familiar white hair and your scowl deepened as you saw Rollo knee deep into tutoring Gidel. "Go sit back down! You need to learn!"

His shoulders sagged and a loud groan escaped his lips. To your surprise, he listened to you, mumbling how you were no fun and stomping back over the couch and taking a seat next to his brother. Rollo shot him a scathing look but didn't stop his ministrations. You relieved until you saw the fox's hand shoot to his mouth and his start jaw moving. Gasping, you snapped back towards the tray. A slice was missing.

You grit your teeth and bared it, not wanting to start a fight. Dinner would be ready soon.

As you reached over to the basket of freshly picked grapes, knife in hand, you couldn't help but let a small smile grow on your face.

They were annoying, caused trouble, and always seemed to have a problem with each other.

In all honesty, these roommates of yours probably decreased your quality of life. But you wouldn't have it any other way.