Deuce Spade

Deuce doesn’t know how to handle you at first. You walk into class on your first day with your head held high, wearing black platform shoes that echo through the hallway like you own the place. Your skirt’s a little too short, your makeup a little too bold, and your attitude? Unapologetically fierce.

You remind him of who he used to be.

At first, he avoids you. You seem like the type to get in fights and call it self-expression. But one day, he catches you behind the school handing out extra bread to a bunch of stray cats. You glare at him like you’re daring him to make fun of you.

"Say anything and you’re next," you snap.

"Next for what?"

"I dunno. Just… next."

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he sits down beside you. Quietly. Doesn’t judge. Just watches as you break a meat bun in half and toss a piece to a limping gray kitten.

After that, he starts noticing things: how you always sit in the back of class but take the most thorough notes. How you roll your eyes when teachers praise you. How you wear your blazer wrong but still iron it every night.

Eventually, he starts defending you before anyone says a word. He doesn’t let people talk bad about you. He doesn’t explain it, he just does.

When you find out, you slap his arm. "Don’t make me owe you a favor. I hate favors."

But the next morning, there’s a neatly wrapped onigiri in your hand when he walks into class.

You don’t say anything. Neither does he.

You’re both okay with that.

Ace Trappola

You and Ace are like two sides of the same coin—except your side is spiked and probably illegal.

He’s intrigued the second he sees you. You’ve got that cocky smile, that "what are you gonna do about it?" energy. You don’t follow rules unless they benefit you. You don’t start trouble, but you never walk away from it either.

He likes that. A little too much.

You prank him on day three. Harmless stuff. Purple glitter in his shoes, a skull sticker on the back of his collar. He laughs like he doesn’t care, but then he gets you back. Water bucket on the door. Classic.

"Child’s play," you scoff. "Try harder next time."

So begins the war.

But the rivalry is weird. It's not mean. It's playful. Like flirting with teeth. You talk trash, he talks back, but when someone else makes a joke about your look or your voice, he gets quiet. He doesn’t joke like that.

He doesn’t let anyone else joke like that.

You catch him staring sometimes. Not in a gross way. Just… watching. Studying. Like he’s trying to figure you out.

One night, he finds you in the lounge working on a little embroidery project. Skull patches for your backpack. He teases you for being "weirdly domestic for a punk."

You raise an eyebrow. "You keep talking like you don’t want one."

He doesn’t respond. But the next morning, you toss him a small patch. A red card with a bite taken out of it.

He sews it to the inside of his uniform sleeve. Doesn’t show anyone.

But you notice. Of course you do.

And when you smirk at him from across the hallway, he smirks right back.

Jack Howl

Jack didn’t dislike you, he just didn’t get you.

The first time he saw you was during PE. You wore combat boots instead of athletic shoes and didn’t even pretend to follow the uniform code. There was a bat-shaped clip in your hair, and you rolled your sleeves up like you were ready to throw someone instead of a ball. He figured you were all bark and no bite.

Then you outran everyone in sprint trials.

Still, he avoided you for a while. You talked too much, acted too bold. You were chaos wrapped in black lace and sarcasm. He didn’t know how to handle people like you. He preferred things straightforward, clean-cut. You were a puzzle with sharp edges.

But one day, he caught you behind the dorms with your head down, quietly bandaging a bruised knee on a freshman who’d tripped during flying class. You didn’t even look up when Jack approached.

"Don’t stare. This stays between us. Got it, wolf boy?"

Jack blinked. "Yeah. Sure."

You didn’t wait for thanks. You just shoved the kit back into your bag and disappeared. But Jack stayed there a moment longer, puzzled.

That’s when he started paying attention.

He noticed the way you didn’t start fights, you ended them. The way you always rolled your eyes in class, but somehow turned in the most thorough assignments. The way you always sat near the window, like you didn’t belong inside.

When you got paired together for a wilderness survival assignment, he expected disaster. He thought you'd complain, slack off, maybe even ditch. Instead, you showed up early with a practical backpack, a half-charged lantern, and snacks. You hiked ahead of him through the woods, cursing at brambles and grumbling about mosquito bites.

He chuckled when you tripped over a root. You glared. “You laugh, I push you into the stream.”

You didn’t. Instead, you handed him a granola bar. “Catch. I brought extra.”

You didn’t share much about yourself. But as the fire crackled between you that night, Jack realized you didn’t have to. There was something comfortable in your silence. In the way you kicked at pebbles and swatted at bugs and eventually leaned back against your backpack with your arms behind your head.

“You’re quiet,” you said suddenly.

“Used to it,” he replied.

You hummed. “Not a bad thing.”

And when he got cold that night, you tossed your spiked hoodie over his head with a scowl.

“Shut up. I don’t want to hear it.”

He didn’t say anything.

But he still wears that hoodie during late-night runs.

You never asked for it back.

Epel Felmier

Epel saw you and immediately thought: finally. Someone who didn’t care what anyone thought.

You were all spiked chokers and stompy boots, strutting through campus like you ruled the place. You had stickers all over your textbooks, cursed like a sailor, and called the teachers by their first names when you were annoyed.

He was obsessed.

Back home, people told him how to behave. How to sit. How to talk. But you? You flipped the world off with a smile and glitter eyeliner.

You reminded him of home in the strangest way. Of the girls back in Harveston who didn’t take crap from anyone and weren’t afraid to get their boots dirty.

He started copying your attitude, standing straighter, ditching some of the delicate phrases Vil forced on him. He wanted to learn how to be bold like you. Unapologetic.

“Ya think this is cute?” he asked once, showing you his new skull-engraved ring.

You examined it, then nodded. “Not bad. A little wannabe, but you’re getting there.”

He didn’t take offense. He grinned.

When he got caught cursing in alchemy class, he didn’t even try to blame you. He just bit his lip and held back a laugh.

You taught him how to glare properly. How to lean back in his chair without looking like he was trying too hard. How to make a threat sound like a compliment.

In exchange, he showed you how to make your own hair tonic. One that wouldn’t stain your pillows purple.

The two of you didn’t exchange gifts. You exchanged bad habits, sass, and silent respect.

During the annual VDC performance, Epel showed up in your color scheme, black and fuchsia. You stared at him from the wings.

“You tryin’ to match me now?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe I just like your colors better.”

You rolled your eyes.

But your smirk didn’t leave until long after the music ended.

Ortho Shroud

Ortho liked observing people. You, though? You confused his entire database.

You weren’t like Idia or the students who wanted attention. You didn’t ask for people to like you. You dressed how you wanted, acted how you wanted, and made no apologies for it.

He once asked, “Do you think your behavior increases or decreases your chances of friendship?”

You squinted at him. “What does that even mean?”

“I mean, people are scared of you. But you do nice things when no one’s looking.”

You shrugged. “Maybe I don’t want the attention. Maybe I just like doing stuff.”

After that, Ortho made it his mission to understand you. He followed your patterns. When you disappeared from class, he found you behind the greenhouse with a stray cat on your lap. When other students avoided you, Ortho sat next to you, chatting casually about magic tech and anime.

He made you a custom security chip for your bag that played a spooky jingle every time it opened. You glared at it at first but didn’t take it off.

“I synced it to your walking rhythm,” he said proudly. “It’s goth-coded.”

You grumbled. “Nerd.” But you wore it anyway.

One night, Ortho caught you sneaking into the restricted library. Instead of reporting you, he asked, “Want backup?”

You blinked. “You’re serious?”

He beamed. “You look like a boss-level character. I figured I’d help with the side quest.”

It became a thing. The two of you teamed up often, hacking doors, finding secret passageways, stealing ghost stories from banned books. Ortho even programmed a hologram bat companion that floated beside you during lectures.

You named it Morbid. He pretended to be shocked.

“Morbid? Not Spookums?”

“You can name your next robot Spookums.”

Eventually, you started tutoring him in creative writing, helping him craft better character dialogue for his story mods. In return, he installed a glow feature in your boots that activated during fights.

The first time you used them, you blasted through a training dummy and laughed.

“This is sick.”

“I know,” he said. “It’s peak villain energy.”

You didn’t need to say anything after that.

He got you. No decoding necessary.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek couldn’t stand you at first. The audacity. The aesthetic. The constant teasing.

“You must learn discipline!” he yelled.

“Maybe you should learn how to relax,” you replied, laying upside down on a bench, blowing a bubble with your gum.

The sight of you made his blood pressure spike. You walked around like rules didn’t apply, wore skirts too short for the dorm code, and painted your nails black in defiance of uniform regulations.

He reported you. Twice. You got detention. Both times, you left detention laughing.

But the turning point was a group project in magical history. He wanted to do all the research. You said you’d do the visuals.

“You’re not seriously going to draw our entire timeline in comic panels,” he scoffed.

“Yes, I am. With chibi versions of Malleus, too.”

He nearly combusted.

But you finished it. Every detail accurate. Every event in order. And the entire class loved it. Even Professor Trein.

Sebek stared at you with a mixture of betrayal and awe.

“You’re not just chaos incarnate… You’re competent chaos incarnate.”

You winked. “Told you. I bite and I sparkle.”

From that day forward, your arguments became banter. He started walking with you to class, only to lecture you. You let him. Only to interrupt with sass.

You both denied enjoying the company.

Then came the fencing match. You weren’t even competing, but someone insulted Malleus in the stands near you. Sebek drew his sword.

You jumped down, grabbed a broomstick, and challenged the heckler to a duel.

“BACK OFF,” you growled. “Or I’ll hex your eyelashes off.”

The whole room froze.

Sebek stared at you like you’d just proposed marriage.

Later, he found a Malleus-themed phone charm in his locker. Handmade. With your signature skull on the back.

He didn’t say anything about it, but it never left his phone.

Grim

Grim knew you were his kind of human from the start.

You were dramatic. You were stylish. You didn’t take orders, and neither did he.

You walked into Ramshackle with a box of skull-themed stationery and a neon pink kettle. He declared you his second-in-command immediately. You told him he was lucky you didn’t throw him off the balcony.

You were both all bark and bite and flair.

He stole shiny things for your room. You painted his claws with glow-in-the-dark polish. You taught him how to pose dramatically in a mirror.

He curled up next to you when you watched horror movies, tail flicking against your thigh.

You shared snacks. He shared your bed.

“You’re loud,” you mumbled once, brushing his fur.

“You love it,” he grinned.

When someone teased him in class, calling him a talking pet, you slammed your books on the desk.

“Say that again. I dare you.”

The guy backed off. Grim puffed up.

Afterward, he hopped on your shoulder and declared, “We’re takin’ over this dump together. Just you and me.”

You grinned. “Yeah, but I get naming rights when we turn the cafeteria into a nightclub.”

He purred in approval.

Weeks later, someone wrote “Grim & Kuromi 4EVER” in claw marks across the dorm’s front gate.

Neither of you admitted it.

But your matching sunglasses said enough.

Partners in crime. Legends in training.

Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! As usual Reblogs are encouraged and appreciated!🩷

the three of you guys are basically inseparable outside of class time! whenever one of you is missing it’s almost a guarantee that you’re with the other two somewhere

they are so sweet!! both of them show their love in different ways, but at the end of the day none of you are feeling unloved or undervalued in the relationship because love is given so freely

rook is obviously more straightforward with his affections- he’s very into (respectful) pda with his lovers and will literally go on tangents about all the things he loves about you and vil! even to other students who really don’t give a shit

vil has to be more subtle in his affections, being a celebrity means eyes on him at all times, and the last thing he wants is crazy fans hounding you and rook. even a more “normal” relationship would be hard to navigate, much less one with two other people

as you can probably guess, self care days are a must with these two! they love to pamper you anyways, so a day they can take care of you (and your skin, thanks vil) is a perfect way to spend a day off from classes and work!

speaking of- vil is extremely busy, with modeling shoots and interviews and the like. he tries his best to not let it get in the way of your relationship, but it can be hard sometimes

on days where vil can’t be with you, rook and you try to make the most of it. he takes you on your date of choice (pls don’t let him choose he is not to be trusted) and uses it as a chance to get some one on one time with you

vil, shockingly, is a very big cuddle bug! most people think he wouldn’t want to be that close to someone, especially when he needs his beauty sleep, but he actually sleeps better with you both and wakes up less rested after a night alone

rook will say the most OUT OF POCKET shit randomly and vil will glare at him while rook is just 😌

Cradling his delicate hands, slowly jogging across the campus grounds, he’ll be late. His bag tucked under his arm, and his scarf flutters in the wind. It’s unlike him to be in a hurry. To be late without proper notice. Yet he has no excuse, no proper one, then simply getting swept away in conversation. You had greeted him, asking how he slept and chatted away about what you had planned. You spoke leisurely, in no hurry to make it to class, with relaxed shoulders and a pleased, comfortable smile. He found himself enamored with how easygoing you made yourself within his presence.

A part of him liked it.

To be treated as if he was merely a friend to you. A friend. He exhales. He doesn’t regret sending the short amount of time, yet as the cold flush his cheeks red, as he slips into the school building, he’s sure to make you pay back in kind. He skips over steps gracefully, making sure no one was around before reaching the second floor. Slowing down upon seeing a familiar brown hat, with a large gleaming white feather.

“Good Morning Roi de Poison~” He can nearly roll his eyes, taking off his gloves as Rook opens the door, folding them and tucking the gloves in his bag, before removing his scarf and coat, which Rook takes eagerly, as they both move to the only open seats in the back. “I’m not late?” Vil’s eyes glance over the classroom, not spotting the teacher, which irks him a bit. He jogged for nothing.

“Did you forget we’re joining classes for the day~” There’s a slight edge to his voice, and Vil can’t help but hum in thought, slightly leaning back in his seat, still with perfect posture. His eyes scan across the room, before landing on Rook, who’s merely watching. His eyes half-lidded with his cheek in his palm, his lips pulled into a lazy smile. Vil raises a brow, to which causes the Huntsman to lean forward.

“Tu es juste magnifique~” Vil forces a neutral expression, muttering a soft ‘I know’ which only causes Rook to chuckle. Yet he doesn’t falter, grabbing the Housewarden’s hand, and placing a chaste kiss upon his knuckles, murmuring against his velvety skin.

“Tant que vous le savez, je suis heureux.” Vil opens his lips to speak, leaning closer to Rook before the sound of fresh voices broke whatever world they were in.

Grim, Ace, Deuce, and you…

Their eyes lock on you, watching you and the other students file into the classroom, taking different seats. You sit with your friends, yet you seem to search the classroom before spotting both Vil and Rook, waving at them with a smile. Lilac eyes widen for a split moment, dipping his chin to you in acknowledgment before Rook sends back a wave with a large smile, which doesn’t seem to satisfy the huntsman cause before Vil can even stop what’s happening, Rook is already halfway across the room. Scaring half the surrounding students of his sudden appearance.

He watches you talk with Rook. Whatever being said makes you laugh, and Vil can feel his lips quirk, almost as if he was there. His eyes drift over to the empty seat, one for him, one for rook, and one day—. He rises from his seat, faux annoyance on his face as he makes his way over to you and your group.

—A chair for you.

• It goes without saying that after the relationship became official, there were a lot of families to meet. Some of the boys were more hesitant about introducing everyone while others couldn't wait. Kalim belonged to the latter, immediately writing his father (after asking everyone of course) and sharing his excitement.

• Azul, Malleus, Idia and Vil were probably next, though it took some time for them to think about it. Still, all three of them have a good relationship with their families. And yes, Malleus told Lilia first. Ortho was also excited.

• As for Riddle and Leona, I don't think they would tell their family at all, at least not without a lot of convincing. Riddle fears the reaction of his mom to such an "imperfection" and Leona doubts that revealing his unusual relationship would improve his reputation.

• When it came to the discussion of last names, there was pure chaos with no one wanting to give up their name. Kalim suggested hyphenating everyones names, but was shot down quickly for obvious reasons. In the end, everyone would either keep their name or come up with a new one together.

• There was another fight when the time came to propose. Everybody wanted to be first, yet it was also kind of difficult to propose to so many people at once. Finally, you managed to get everyone together to take a break from the dilemma and relax, only for you to pull a fast one on them and propose yourself (they were torn between hugging you and letting you sleep on the couch for that stunt)