#velsettetine

the overblots boys x reader (platonic) between the ages of 12-14

realizing yuu's real age (they thought that Yuu was 16)

there really angry with Crowley for giving so much things for a child to handle

and after that they become really protection over yuu please and thank you

(I'm really sorry if it's too long it's my first time requesting some thing)

Poor Unfortunate Child

a/n: thanks for ordering! I actually absolutely love the idea of a young Yuu going through all these horrors actually

warnings: mentions of malnourishment, child employment(??somewhat?), child neglect this is a platonic fanfic wc: 2.4k

Riddle Rosehearts

The realization did not come with a dramatic revelation, but rather a quiet, devastating observation. Riddle had been reviewing the Ramshackle Dorm’s meager budget, intending to scold Yuu for a minor clerical error, when he noticed the prefect trying to reach a high shelf in the lounge. They looked so impossibly small, their oversized, hand-me-down uniform swallowing their frame. When Riddle pressed for their official enrollment documentation—demanding to know why their magical aptitude scores and basic vitals were missing from the Heartslabyul archives—Yuu casually admitted that back home, they hadn't even finished middle school. They were twelve, turning thirteen.

The color drained entirely from Riddle’s face, replaced swiftly by a suffocating, blinding rage. A child. A literal child had been tasked with subduing his own lethal, ink-fueled rampage, forced to clean up the messes of a school full of volatile mages while living in a rotting, ghost-infested ruin on a diet of stale bread and canned soup.

Riddle’s magic flared, the air around him crackling with the dangerous aura of Off With Your Head! as he vowed to march straight to the Headmage's office and demand Crowley's execution, or at least his permanent expulsion from society.

Yuu, terrified not of Crowley’s fate but of Riddle popping a blood vessel, desperately grabbed the hem of his cloak. They pleaded with him, pointing out that throwing a tantrum or getting expelled for assault wouldn't fix their living situation, and that violence never truly solved anything. Reluctantly, Riddle forced his magic down, breathing heavily as he smoothed his jacket. But the fury did not vanish; it simply redirected itself. From that afternoon forward, Yuu was no longer allowed to manage their own life. Riddle personally oversaw their daily schedule, showing up at Ramshackle with freshly baked, nutrient-dense tarts and a strict, unyielding mandate that Yuu was to do absolutely no heavy lifting, campus chores, or dangerous exterminations ever again.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona had always known the herbivore was scrawny, but he had assumed it was just a consequence of coming from a world without magic, or perhaps just miserable genetics. It wasn't until Yuu fell asleep on the lounge sofa in Savanaclaw—curled into a ball so tiny they barely took up a single cushion—that Leona’s sharp beastman senses picked up on the truth. He listened to the steady, fragile rhythm of their heartbeat and noted the distinct, heartbreaking scent of mild malnutrition that he usually only smelled in the poorest sectors of the Sunset Savannah.

When Yuu woke up, Leona casually dragged the truth out of them with a few pointed questions about their life before Twisted Wonderland. When the number twelve dropped from their mouth, Leona stopped breathing for a fraction of a second.

The lazy, indifferent facade he wore like armor shattered instantly. A low, irrtated sigh was the only thing that managed to come out. That feathered bastard Crowley had literal royalty at his school, yet he was using a starving, pre-teen cub as a glorified, unpaid handyman to fix life-threatening magical crises. Leona stood up, his eyes flashing a dangerous, predatory green, fully intending to turn Dire Crowley into actual dust beneath his boots.

Yuu, sensing the imminent demise of the Headmage, jumped in front of the door, spreading their arms wide. They argued that if Leona turned Crowley to ash, Night Raven College would lose its funding, Ramshackle would be demolished, and besides, answering negligence with bloodshed wouldn't make the cafeteria food taste any better.

Leona stared down at the cub, clicked his tongue in supreme irritation, and sat back down. He didn't go after Crowley, but he made sure the bird paid in other ways. Ruggie was immediately given a permanent assignment: ensure Yuu was fed three square, meat-heavy meals a day from the Savanaclaw kitchen.

Azul Ashengrotto

It was a standard inventory audit that blew the secret wide open. Azul was reviewing the Mostro Lounge’s payroll and supply requests when he noticed Yuu’s handwriting on a casual labor contract they had signed to earn a few extra madols. The handwriting was neat, but the signature was distinctly juvenile. Out of sheer curiosity, Azul ran a comprehensive background check through his various information networks, only to find a shocking discrepancy in the age Yuu had offhandedly given during their first week. They weren't sixteen; they were barely twelve.

Azul’s teacup shattered against the saucer, hot liquid spilling across his pristine desk, unheeded. For a businessman who prided himself on fair trades and calculated risks, this was a grotesque violation of every moral and legal standard he possessed. Crowley had signed a contract of guardianship with a child under the guise of an educational scholarship, only to starve them and force them into lethal combat with Overblotted students to protect the school's reputation.

Azul’s eyes darkened, a cold, calculating fury washing over him as he immediately began drafting a legal and magical blackmail campaign designed to completely ruin Crowley’s life, strip him of his assets, and leave him destitute.

Yuu, seeing the terrifying glint in Azul’s eyes and the sheer volume of cursed parchment he was conjuring, gently placed a hand over his. They told him that destroying the Headmage via a massive legal war would only bring unwanted ministry attention to Ramshackle, and that ruining a life out of spite didn't actually help anyone.

Azul took a deep breath, adjusting his glasses as he forced his composure back into place. He agreed to hold his legal fire, but the dynamic changed instantly. Yuu's contract at the Lounge was immediately torn up, replaced by a VIP status that ensured they were given the finest, most nutritionally complete meals the lounge had to offer, completely free of charge. Furthermore, Azul deployed Floyd and Jade as a permanent, terrifying pair of bodyguards, ensuring no one ever took advantage of the "Mostro Lounge's protected junior associate" again.

Jamil Viper

As the person who practically ran Scarabia’s logistics(As well as Kalim’s health and well-being), Jamil was hyper-aware of health, diet, and physical stamina. He had invited Yuu over under the pretense of helping them study, but when he watched them struggle to chop a simple vegetable—their wrists visibly thin and lacking the basic muscle density of a teenager—he grew suspicious. Jamil pulled out a medical diagnostic charm, standard for checking the well-being of the Scarabia students, and cast it under the guise of a routine check. The results made his stomach drop: the bone density and physical development indicators perfectly matched a child of twelve or thirteen, compounded by clear signs of dietary neglect.

The revelation hit Jamil like a physical blow. All his life, he had been forced to mature early to protect Kalim, but he had still been given food, shelter, and a clear role. Crowley had abandoned an actual child in a dilapidated house, expecting them to solve ancient curses on an empty stomach.

A dark, dangerous anger settled over Jamil, the kind of quiet, suffocating fury that usually preceded an absolute meltdown. He began to plan a highly sophisticated, untraceable poison cocktail that would make Crowley suffer a very long, very painful bout of "sudden illness."

Yuu, seeing the terrifyingly blank, focused look on Jamil’s face, immediately grabbed his arm. They begged him to stop, pointing out that solving problems with poisons and manipulation had nearly ruined his own life during the holidays, and that violence and revenge would only create a cycle of misery.

Jamil stared at the child, the raw honesty in their eyes piercing through his anger. He sighed, rubbing his temples, and put the vials away. He wouldn't kill the Headmage, but he would completely hijack Yuu's life for their own good. From that day on, Jamil personally prepared bento boxes packed with vitamins and proteins, sending them to Ramshackle daily, and kept a hyper-vigilant eye on Yuu, treating them with the protective intensity of a guardian older brother who refused to let another child suffer under his watch.

Vil Schoenheit

The truth came to light during a mandatory skincare and posture assessment Vil insisted on conducting for all the dorm leaders and the prefect. Vil had been analyzing Yuu’s facial structure and skin elasticity to recommend a proper regimen, but the data simply didn't make sense for a sixteen-year-old. The collagen levels, the dental development, and the clear signs of stunted growth from a sudden drop in nutrition all pointed to one horrific conclusion: Yuu was a pre-pubescent child, barely thirteen years old.

Vil’s perfect composure shattered entirely. His mirror cracked from the sheer pressure of his sudden, spike in magical energy. The absolute audacity of that feathered charlatan, Dire Crowley, to parade a literal child around as an equal peer, exposing them to toxic blot, physical trauma, and leaving them to waste away in a drafty, unheated dorm with sub-par sustenance!

Vil’s eyes burned with a lethal, regal fury. He gripped his magical pen, his mind instantly racing toward a public, utterly devastating exposure campaign that would dismantle Crowley’s reputation in the media, followed by a curse that would make the Headmage’s skin rot from the inside out.

Yuu, terrified by the sheer, imposing majesty of Vil’s wrath, stepped between him and the door, holding onto his immaculate robes. They looked up at him with wide eyes, pleading that a public scandal or a violent curse wouldn't make their life any easier, and that reacting with hatred would only ugly the soul.

Vil stopped, looking down at the small, earnest child holding his hem. The word ugly struck a chord. He took a long, steadying breath, letting his magic dissipate. He wouldn't stoop to Crowley’s level of ugly behavior, but he would take control. Vil immediately had Pomefiore’s finest tailors create a custom, perfectly fitting wardrobe for Yuu, infused with warming and protective charms. He established a strict, gourmet dietary plan rich in necessary nutrients, and declared that if Yuu so much as picked up a broom on campus again, Vil would hold the entire school faculty legally accountable.

Idia Shroud

Idia found out entirely by accident through a routine scan conducted by Ortho. Yuu had visited the Ignihyde workshop to return some borrowed tech, and Ortho’s internal bioscanners automatically logged their vitals into the mainframe. When Idia looked at the data overlay on his monitors later that evening, a massive red warning flag popped up: Subject age: 12.6 years. Warning: Caloric intake insufficient for optimal growth phase.

Idia froze, his blue hair flaring into a brilliant, panicked light blue flame. He stared at the screen, his social anxiety completely overwritten by absolute, unfiltered horror. He was a shut-in, sure, but even he knew the basic rules of society. Crowley had sent a middle-schooler—an actual, tiny NPC child—to fight high-level Overblot bosses, all while leaving them with zero budget, living in a house that looked like a survival-horror map, and eating literal garbage.

Idia’s fingers flew across his keyboard, his face twisted in a look of pure malice as he began overriding the school’s security protocols. He was going to hack Crowley’s bank accounts, leak his browser history to the magic ministry, and program a fleet of combat drones to carpet-bomb the Headmage’s office with heavy-duty plasma fire.

Yuu, who had been waiting for their tech, saw the monitors flashing red with targeting coordinates and quickly grabbed Idia’s hands off the keyboard. They reminded him that cyber-terrorism and drone strikes wouldn't fix their lack of groceries, and that using violence to solve problems just made everything more chaotic. Idia blinked, looking down at the tiny hands covering his own, his flames dying down to a subdued, nervous blue. He grumbled, cursing under his breath, but aborted the sequence. He didn't bomb Crowley, but he did weaponize his tech for Yuu's benefit. He immediately automated a drone delivery service that dropped off high-calorie, nutritious meal kits to Ramshackle three times a day, and modified Ortho’s programming to include a permanent "Protect Yuu" protocol, effectively giving the prefect a hovering, high-tech guardian angel wherever they went.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus discovered the truth during one of his nightly strolls around the Ramshackle Dorm. He had found Yuu sitting on the porch, wrapped in a thin, threadbare blanket, looking up at the stars. When Malleus sat beside them, he noticed how fragile they seemed against the night air. Humans were already short-lived, delicate creatures in his eyes, but when he subtly extended his fae senses to gauge their life force, he realized with a shock that their spiritual and physical development was that of a child who had not even reached their second decade—they were barely twelve cycles old.

The air around the abandoned dorm grew instantly freezing, the grass beneath Malleus’s boots turning to frost as a terrible, ancient pressure descended upon the valley. A child. A human fledgling had been ripped from their nest, brought to a strange world, and forced to endure the terrifying wrath of corrupted mages, all while the supposed "guardian" of this institution left them to starve in a broken and run down place like Ramshackle. Malleus’s eyes glowed with a terrifying, draconic green fire. He stood up, the sky above darkening with sudden, thunderous storm clouds as he prepared to fly directly to Crowley’s quarters and tear the roof off, showing the bird the true meaning of a dragon’s wrath.

Yuu, feeling the immense, crushing weight of Malleus’s anger, threw their arms around his waist, clinging to him with all their might. They looked up into his burning eyes, begging him to calm down, crying out that causing a massive storm and destroying the school wouldn't bring them home, and that violence never truly solved anything.

Malleus looked down at the small child clinging to his torso, their warmth a stark contrast to his icy fury. The storm clouds slowly dissipated, the thunder fading into a soft rumble. He knelt down, wrapping his heavy cloak around Yuu’s small shoulders. He would spare the Headmage for now, solely because his child-friend asked it of him. But from that moment on, Malleus’s presence became a permanent fixture in Yuu’s life. He ensured that the kitchens of Diasomnia provided the finest delicacies for the child daily, and made it known to the entire valley of thorns—and Night Raven College—that anyone who dared to overburden or neglect the fledgling prefect would answer directly to the future King of Briar Valley.

gosh this request was perfect, literally perfect, I have nothing to say- its making me want to make a younger Yuu oc just like this.

I was wondering if you could write the housewardens x fem reader who has big thighs and she's rlly insecure of them👀 (hurt/comfort) (don't do this if you don't feel like it 😓)

I See it the Way You Don't

a/n: hehe, I have a little writing boost so I’m trying to use it as much as I can until it runs out! Of course I can write about insecurities!

warnings: hurt/comfort, reader has big thighs wc: 2k

Riddle Rosehearts

The Queen of Hearts’ rules were absolute, but they said nothing about how a girl’s uniform was supposed to fit. You tugged at the hem of your skirt for the hundredth time, trying to force the fabric to cover what you felt was an unforgivable amount of space.

You were hiding out in the Heartslabyul library, safe behind a stack of heavy encyclopedias where no one could look at you. When Riddle walked in, his sharp grey eyes immediately locked onto your hunched posture. He marched over, a scowl forming on his face, but it melted into concern when he saw the distressed look on your face. You tried to shift your legs out of sight, muttering a self-deprecating comment about how your thighs were just too big for the standard Night Raven College uniform and how ridiculous you looked. Riddle paused, crossing his arms as his cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson. He didn’t yell. Instead, he pulled out the chair next to you and sat down, his posture perfectly straight. He told you, with absolute, unwavering authority, that the sizing charts of standard-issue uniforms were a flawed metric for beauty. He explained that according to rule number 342, one must always maintain a dignified appearance, and there was nothing more dignified than holding your head high. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a softer, earnest tone, confessing that he found the way you filled out the uniform to be incredibly striking and elegant. He firmly stated that if anyone, including yourself, dared to criticize your body, they would be breaking the rules of his heart—and he would personally see to their off-with-their-head sentence.

He gave your hand a firm, reassuring squeeze, his blush deepening. "So, please, do not speak ill of yourself again, as I find you entirely perfect just as you are."

Leona Kingscholar

The Savanaclaw lounge was usually loud, but the afternoon heat had reduced it to a quiet, lazy hum. You sat on the edge of a worn leather sofa, hyper-aware of how your thighs flattened and looked wider against the cushion, wishing you could just disappear.

Leona was napping nearby, his head resting on his arm, but he wasn’t entirely asleep. He tracked the way you kept pulling your oversized jacket over your lap, letting out a low, irritated growl at your restless shifting. When you blurted out an apology, whispering about how you just felt self-conscious because of your big thighs, Leona opened one emerald eye. He scoffed, sitting up with a slow, predatory grace that made your breath hitch. He didn't offer a polite, sugar-coated compliment; instead, he reached out, his large, calloused hand gripping your thigh with an unapologetic, heavy pressure that made you gasp. He told you that herbivores spent too much time worrying about useless nonsense. In the Savanaclaw savanna, strength and substance were revered, and he made it clear that he had absolutely no interest in skin and bones. His thumb stroked the soft skin through your fabric, his voice dropping into a deep, rumbling purr that vibrated right through you. He muttered that you were soft, warm, and built beautifully—exactly the way he liked it. He pulled you closer until your side was flushed against his, effectively anchoring you to his side and putting an end to your fidgeting. He closed his eyes again, burying his face into your shoulder with a contented sigh. "Shut up and stay still; you’re a perfect person, [Name], you're complaining about something that barely anyone get to see whether you hide them or not."

Azul Ashengrotto

The Mostro Lounge was closed for the afternoon, leaving the jazz music low and the ambient blue light casting long shadows across the underwater café. You sat at one of the booth tables, staring down at your legs and feeling a wave of intense insecurity wash over you.

Azul caught you sighing, his keen eyes instantly picking up on your dropped shoulders and the tense way you crossed your legs to make them look smaller. He glided over, adjusting his glasses, a gentle, understanding smile on his face rather than his usual business-like smirk. When you hesitantly confessed your insecurity, comparing yourself unfavorably to others, Azul’s expression softened into something incredibly genuine. He took the seat across from you, resting his chin on his hands as he looked at you with rapt attention. He gently reminded you that as someone from the sea, he understood more than anyone the pressure of body transformations and the foolishness of human beauty standards. He explained, with the precision of a scholar, that your curves were a masterpiece of form and proportion, adding a mesmerizing warmth to your presence that no magic could replicate. He admitted, a faint pink dusting his pale cheeks, that he found himself utterly captivated by you, specifically noting how beautifully your thighs caught the light when you walked. He assured you that in any contract he would ever draw up, your form would be valued as an absolute, irreplaceable treasure. He reached across the table, gently patting the back of your hand with a warm, reassuring smile. "You possess a truly magnificent beauty, my dear, so there is absolutely no need to discount your worth."

Kalim Al-Asim

The Scarabia lounge was filled with the scent of spices and the sound of soft fountains, a paradise that usually made you happy, but today you felt completely out of place. You sat on a pile of silk cushions, pulling your knees to your chest to hide your thighs from view.

Kalim bounded into the room, his golden bangles jingling merrily, but he stopped short when he saw the sad, distant look in your eyes. He immediately dropped to his knees beside your cushion, his bright red eyes wide with genuine worry as he asked what was wrong. When you mumbled that you felt self-conscious because your legs were so much bigger and heavier than the other girls, Kalim blinked in pure confusion before bursting into a bright, radiant laugh. He didn't laugh to be mean; he laughed because he couldn't comprehend how you could see a flaw in something he loved so much. He threw his arms around you in a giant, enthusiastic hug, telling you that you were being silly. He proudly declared that big thighs meant you were strong, healthy, and perfect for dancing. He pulled you up onto your feet, holding your hands and swaying side to side, telling you about the grand feasts in his homeland where full, beautiful figures were celebrated as a blessing of abundance. He showered you with a barrage of unfiltered, joyful compliments, his genuine adoration so bright that it felt impossible to keep frowning in his presence.

He beamed up at you, his smile, though more soft than bright this time as he squeezed your fingers tightly. "I think— no, I know you look absolutely wonderful, so let's go get something to cheer you up!"

Vil Schoenheit

The dressing room in Pomefiore was a sanctuary of mirrors and luxury, but today, those mirrors felt like your worst enemies. You stood in front of a full-length glass, frowning heavily at the way your thighs pressed together, feeling entirely unworthy of being around the school's epitome of beauty.

Vil entered the room with his usual flawless posture, his sharp violet eyes instantly catching your reflection and the critical way you were staring at your own body. He clicked his tongue, a sound that made you flinch, but the lecture that followed wasn't the harsh critique you expected. He stepped up right behind you, placing his hands firmly on your hips and forcing you to look at your reflection together. He told you that your self-deprecation was a crime against your own potential, his voice commanding and filled with absolute certainty. He explained that true beauty was about harmony, confidence, and posture, not conforming to a singular, fragile mold. Vil’s hands slid down slightly, tracing the curve of your thighs with a revered, professional touch that quickly turned intimate and tender. He murmured that your shape possessed a lush, classical elegance reminiscent of historic sculptures, providing a stunning, grounded silhouette that he found breathtakingly beautiful. He demanded that you stop comparing yourself to fleeting trends and start recognizing the powerful, alluring presence you commanded just by being yourself. He leaned down, brushing his lips softly against your cheek while keeping his eyes locked with yours in the mirror. "Never insult your form again, darling; you are a vision, and it is time you started carrying yourself like one."

Idia Shroud

The Ignihyde room was dark, illuminated only by the neon blue glow of multiple computer monitors and the flickering lights of Idia’s gaming rig. You were curled up in his gaming chair, pulling your oversized hoodie down as far as it would go to hide your legs.

Idia was hovering nearby, muttering to himself, but his hair flared a bright, panicked pink when he noticed the quiet sniffle coming from your direction. He practically jumped out of his skin, stammering and flailing his arms as he tried to figure out what was wrong, completely losing his cool. When you squeezed your eyes shut and confessed that you felt gross and insecure about your big thighs, Idia froze, his hair shifting into a soft, glowing lavender. He hid his face behind his long fingers, his voice dropping into a quiet, incredibly sweet whisper that was rare for him. He confessed, stammering over his words, that he actually thought you looked like a literal goddess out of a top-tier fantasy visual novel. He rambled on about character designs, explaining that the "thick thigh" aesthetic was top-tier, legendary status, and that you had the kind of perfect, soft proportions that people spent hours rendering in high-definition graphics. He peeked through his fingers, his eyes wide and full of genuine worship, admitting that every time you sat in his lap, he felt like the luckiest guy in the world because you were so soft and comfortable to hold. He slumped back against his desk, pulling his hood over his face to hide his massive blush. "S-So don't say bad stuff about yourself, okay? You're literally peak design, and I... I really like how you look."

Malleus Draconia

The Ramshackle dorm garden was quiet at night, bathed in the ethereal green glow of fireflies and the silver light of the moon. You sat on a stone bench, pulling your skirt down tightly, feeling small and deeply insecure about your body under the grand night sky.

Malleus materialized beside you with a soft rustle of his dark cape, his glowing green eyes immediately softening when he looked down at your troubled face. He sat beside you, the sheer size of his presence usually comforting, but tonight you felt clumsy and overly large next to his royal stature. When you softly confessed your insecurities about your weight and the size of your thighs, Malleus tilted his head, a look of profound wonder crossing his handsome features. He reached out, his long, black-nailed fingers gently lifting your chin so you had to look into his eyes. He told you, with the gravity of an ancient being, that mortals worried about the most peculiar and heartbreaking things. He explained that in the Valley of Thorns, a full, powerful stature was a sign of vitality, grace, and presence, and that he found your form to be utterly mesmerizing. Malleus placed a heavy, warm hand over your thigh, not with lust, but with a deep, grounding reverence that made your heart race. He murmured that your body was beautiful, soft like the twilight and strong like the ancient trees, and that every curve of your form was something he wished to protect and cherish for centuries to come.

He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "You are a wonder to me, child of man; please do not let these fleeting doubts dim the beautiful light you possess."

a/n: I personally don't relate to this specific struggle so I'm not sure if I wrote it right, please forgive me!

( if not the housewardens I'll be fine with leona, idia and malleus!! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠) )

A Feline’s Rejection

Housewardens x reader

A/n: your order has been received and made, because this was made before I closed my requests I’m making this now. Apologies for inactivity- from now till the end of June, I promise to post at least twice a week or more. Thank you for letting me make this, I hope you enjoy this and please come again

Warnings: fluff, reader is a little dramatic, possible editing mistakes Word count: 3.8k

Riddle Rosehearts

The heavy wooden doors of the Heartslabyul dorm didn’t just open; they practically slammed against the wall, rattling the framed portraits of the Queen of Hearts. Riddle snapped his head up from his paperwork, a reprimand about proper decorum already forming on his lips—until he saw you.

You stumbled into his office, your face flushed, chest heaving, and tears absolutely streaming down your face. You were trembling so hard you could barely stand.

Riddle dropped his fountain pen, completely forgetting about the ink staining the parchment. He rushed to his feet, crossing the room in a blind panic. "[Name]?! What is the meaning of this? Are you hurt? Did someone attack you? Tell me who it was this instant!"

You grabbed his red-and-white coat, burying your face into his shoulder, sobbing so violently that your words came out as a scrambled, incoherent mess. "They didn’t even look back, Riddle... I held out my hand and they just... they rejected the rules of engagement! The hierarchy was shattered! It’s all gone!"

Riddle’s heart dropped into his stomach. Rules of engagement? Shattered hierarchy? His mind raced through a dozen worst-case scenarios. Had there been a coup in another dorm? Had a rogue magical beast infiltrated the campus? Were you suffering from a blot-induced hallucination?

"Shh, please, calm down. I can’t understand you," Riddle pleaded, his usual stern demeanor entirely melting into raw anxiety. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, gently guiding you down to the sofa. He stroked your hair, his own heart hammering against his ribs. "I am right here. You are safe in Heartslabyul. Take a deep breath."

It took a solid ten minutes of Riddle rubbing soothing circles into your back and murmuring soft, desperate reassurances before your frantic gasps finally slowed into quiet, occasional hiccups. He handed you a handkerchief, his grey eyes wide with genuine, terrified concern.

"Are you alright now?" he asked softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. "Please, [Name], you must tell me what happened. Who did this to you? What broke the hierarchy?"

You sniffled, looking up at him with watery, bloodshot eyes, your lips trembling all over again. "I... I saw a tiny calico near the botanical gardens... and I crouched down to pet it... but it hissed and ran away into the bushes!"

Riddle froze. His hand paused mid-air. He blinked once. Twice.

"A... a cat?" he whispered, the sheer absurdity of the statement colliding with the immense dread he had been feeling just moments prior. "You are crying because... a feline evaded your affection?"

"It looked right at me, Riddle!" you wailed, fresh tears spilling over. "I just wanted to love it!"

Riddle let out a long, shaky sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose as the adrenaline finally left his system. He didn't know whether to lecture you for scaring him half to death or laugh out loud. Ultimately, seeing your genuinely devastated face, he softened. He pulled you back into his chest, resting his chin on your head.

"Good heavens, you nearly gave me a heart attack," he muttered, though there was a fond, amused smile tugging at his lips. "Very well. If it pleases you, next time we head out to sage island, we shall visit a cat café. For now, please stop crying. My uniform can only take so much water."

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was having a perfectly good nap on the bed of his room when the door was practically kicked off its hinges. He bolted upright, a snarl dying in his throat when he realized it was you.

You collapsed onto your knees right by the doorway, shoulders shaking as you let out a loud, pathetic wail. Tears were streaming down your face, ruining your shirt, and your eyes were swollen.

Leona’s ears immediately pinned flat against his head. He was on his feet in a second, the lazy lounge-lion entirely vanishing, replaced by a tense, predatory instinct. He strode over and practically scooped you up, pulling you onto his bed.

"Hey. Look at me. What the hell happened?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. He gripped your chin gently, forcing you to look at him, his green eyes scanning you for injuries. "Who touched you? Give me a name and I'll turn 'em to dust before sundown."

You gripped his vest, your voice cracking as you choked out absolute nonsense. "The void took it, Leona! The fluffy void just dissolved into the shadows! The betrayal is too heavy, I can't bear the weight of the universe!"

Leona’s brow furrowed tightly. The void? shadows? His mind immediately jumped to Overblot, or some dark magic relic from one of Crowley’s vaults. Was someone targeting you to get to him? The thought made a dangerous, low rumble echo in his chest. He pulled you flush against him, wrapping his arms around you, burying his face in your neck.

"Calm down. Stop babbling and breathe," he ordered, though his rough voice was uncharacteristically gentle. He hated crying—mostly because he hated seeing you cry. He rocked you slightly, letting his heavy, warm presence soothe your panic until your hysterical sobs turned into quiet whimpers against his chest.

Once you finally quieted down, only letting out small, shaky breaths, Leona pulled back just enough to look at you.

"Alright. You're breathing. Now talk to me," he said, his voice deadly serious. "What 'void' are you talking about? Who betrayed you?"

You wiped your nose on your sleeve, a fresh wave of misery washing over your face. "There was a little black cat under the stairs... I psupsupsu'd at it... and it ran away from me!"

Leona stared at you. The tense, protective posture he held instantly deflated. His ears twitched, lifting back up, and he let out a sound that was a mix between a groan and a scoff.

"Are you serious right now?" he muttered, dropping his head back onto his pillows. "A stray cat? You broke into my room crying like the world was ending because a damn cat ignored you?"

"It didn't just ignore me, it rejected my soul!" you cried out, burying your face back into his chest.

Leona rolled his eyes, but a lazy, smirk spread across his face. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you down so you were lying flat against him. "You're an idiot, you know that? If you want to pet a cat so bad, just pet me. I'm bigger, softer, and I actually tolerate you, even if it’s barely. Now shut up and go to sleep. You're exhausting."

Azul Ashengrotto

Mostro Lounge was closed for the afternoon, which was the only reason Azul was in the main dining area reviewing finances. The peaceful silence was shattered when the heavy double doors burst open.

You stumbled in, completely hysterical. Tears were pouring down your face, your breath hitching so violently you looked like you were suffocating.

Azul dropped his ledger, his glasses nearly slipping off his nose. "[Name]?!" He scrambled out of his seat, knocking his chair over in the process—a lapse in composure that would usually horrify him. He rushed to your side, his hands hovering over you nervously, not knowing where to touch without hurting you. "What is wrong? Are you injured? Did someone extort you? Have you been threatened?!"

You grabbed the lapels of his pristine coat, sobbing into his chest, your words a jumbled, panicked mess. "The contract was unwritten, Azul! It was a silent agreement of the eyes, but they breached it! They fled the jurisdiction! There’s no justice left!"

Azul’s face turned entirely pale. Breached contract? Fled jurisdiction? He immediately thought of a high-stakes business deal gone wrong, or worse, someone using a magical contract to bind or harm you. His mind spun at a million miles an hour, calculating legal loopholes, retaliation strategies, and hexes.

"Please, look at me, breathe!" Azul begged, his voice laced with panic. He led you over to a booth, sitting closely beside you. He pulled out a handkerchief, gently dabbing at your tears while using his other hand to rub your arm. "I can fix this. Whatever contract or agreement it was, I can fix it. Just breathe, my love. I am here."

He coaxed you through a series of deep breaths, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against his ribs until your wild sobbing slowed down to a halt, leaving you sniffling and clutching his hand.

Azul let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding for a century. He smoothed down your hair, his blue eyes filled with profound worry. "There now. You are safe. Now, tell me everything. Who breached this agreement? I will make sure they pay tenfold for distressing you like this."

You looked at him, your bottom lip quivering. "I... I tried to give a piece of dried fish to the tabby cat by the courtyard... but it just looked at me and sprinted into the woods!"

Azul’s brain short-circuited. He sat frozen, the handkerchief still pressed against your cheek.

"A... tabby cat?" he repeated, his voice dangerously flat. "A literal animal?"

"It didn't even sniff the fish, Azul!" you sobbed, a fresh tear rolling down your cheek. Azul stared at you for a long moment before letting out a massive, exhausted sigh, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. "My sevens... I thought you had been targeted by a rival businessman or a dark wizard. You nearly caused me a cardiac arrest over a stray feline." He lifted his head, a mixture of profound relief and mild irritation on his face, though his eyes were incredibly fond. He sighed, pulling you into a proper hug. "Next time, if you want to negotiate with the campus wildlife, let me handle the terms. Clearly, they don't appreciate proper compensation."

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim was cheerfully playing the finger cymbals in his room when the doors were thrown open with a loud bang.

You stood there, tears streaming down your face like a monsoon, your chest heaving as you let out a heartbreaking sob.

Kalim dropped his cymbals instantly, his eyes widening to the size of saucers. "[Name]?!" He practically flew across the room, throwing his arms around you. "Oh my gosh, what's wrong?! Are you hurt? Did you eat something bad? Did someone say something mean to you? Jamil! Jamil, come quick!"

You buried your face in his turbaned shoulder, your words coming out in a frantic, garbled rush. "The golden sun just turned away, Kalim! The warmth is gone! The velvet slipped through my fingers and I’m stranded in the desert!"

Kalim’s heart broke into a million pieces. Stranded in the desert? The sun turned away? He thought you were speaking metaphorically about a horrible tragedy. Had your family disowned you? Had your hometown been destroyed? Kalim’s naturally sunny disposition vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, protective sorrow.

"Don't cry, please don't cry! I'm here!" Kalim cried out, seeing you in so much pain made him a little overwhelmed. He guided you over to a pile of plush silk cushions, pulling you into his lap and holding you tight. "Whatever it is, I can fix it! I have lots of gold, and Jamil is really smart, we can solve anything! Just don't be sad!"

He held you, rocking you back and forth, rubbing your back and whispering sweet, panicked reassurances until your loud wails finally subsided into small, shaky hiccups.

Kalim wiped your cheeks with the silken sleeve of his vest, his expression incredibly earnest and worried. "Are you okay now? Can you tell me what happened? Who took the warmth away? I'll have my family send a whole caravan to find it!"

You sniffled loudly, looking at him with giant, pathetic eyes. "I saw a gorgeous ginger cat on the wall... and I held out my hand to pet it... but it hissed at me and jumped over the roof!"

Kalim blinked. He tilted his head, his worry immediately leaving.

"Huh? A ginger cat?" he asked, trying to connect the dots. "The velvet... was the cat's fur?"

"Yes!" you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. Kalim stared for a second, and then a giant, roaring laugh erupted from his chest. He scooped you up into a massive, spinning hug, entirely relieved. "Oh, thank goodness! I thought something terrible happened! You scared me so much!" He set you down, wiping a stray tear from his own eye from laughing. "Aw, don't cry, [Name]! If that cat didn't want headpats, we can just buy a hundred cats! No, a thousand cats! We'll fill the whole lounge with them, and they'll all love you!"

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was in the middle of his meticulous skincare routine when his doors flew open. He turned around, ready to deliver a scathing lecture on poise and entry-way etiquette, but the words died in his throat.

You stood there, completely unraveled. Tears had completely ruined your face, your breathing was erratic, and you looked utterly devastated.

Vil dropped his crystal applicator, rushing over to you with an expression of pure alarm. "[Name]! What on earth has happened to you?" He caught you as you stumbled forward, his hands grasping your shoulders. He looked you up and down, checking for physical trauma. "Are you hurt? Speak to me! Did someone dare to lay a hand on you?"

You collapsed against his chest, ruining his designer robe with your tears, babbling completely incomprehensibly. "The royalty of the courtyard rejected my offering, Vil! The elegance was a lie! I’ve been banished from the beautiful kingdom!"

Vil’s mind immediately went into crisis-management mode. Banished? Royalty? Offerings? He thought there had been a massive political incident, or perhaps a royal student from another country had humiliated or threatened you on campus. His eyes flashed with a dangerous, icy anger. Nobody made his partner look this broken and got away with it.

"Calm yourself. Take deep breaths. Look at me," Vil commanded, his voice a perfect blend of authority and tender concern. He led you over to his vanity chair, sitting you down and kneeling in front of you. He took a damp, luxurious cloth and gently began wiping away your tears, his gaze locked onto yours. "Inhale... exhale. Good. I am right here. No one can banish you from anywhere while I am by your side."

He patiently worked with you, his calm, regal aura eventually soothing your frantic breathing until you were just letting out quiet, shuddering breaths.

Vil cupped your face, his purple eyes scanning yours with intense seriousness. "Now, tell me clearly. Who insulted you? Who rejected your offering? I will ensure they are reprimanded thoroughly."

You looked at him, your eyes welling up with a fresh layer of tears. "I saw a beautiful white cat with blue eyes... I tried to give it a little treat... but it looked at me like I was dirt and ran away!"

Vil’s hands remained on your face, but his entire expression blanked.

"A white... cat," he repeated slowly, the realization dawning on him. The "royalty" was an animal. The "banishment" was just a stray cat walking away.

"It was so pretty, Vil, and it hated me!" you whimpered. Vil closed his eyes, letting out a long, dramatic sigh, though the tension completely left his shoulders. He opened his eyes, a fond, exasperated smirk playing on his lips as he shook his head. "You absolute child," he murmured, gently wiping away the new tears. "You nearly gave me a wrinkle from stress. To think I was ready to challenge a foreign dignitary for you." He stood up, pulling you into his arms and resting his chin on your head. "Felines are notoriously fickle creatures. They lack the taste to recognize true beauty and kindness. Do not waste your tears on a creature with no sense of etiquette."

Idia Shroud

Idia was in the middle of a high-stakes ranked raid when his room door—which was usually locked tighter than a bank vault—was violently thrown open. He jumped, his cat ears headphones flying off his head.

"Wh-whoa! What the—?!" he started, ready to yell at whoever bypassed his security, but stopped when he saw you.

You fell into his room, sobbing hysterically, your chest heaving as tears poured down your face. You looked completely overwhelmed.

Idia’s internal alarms went off at a deafening volume. His blue flames flared up, turning bright white-hot with pure panic. "Name?! Wh-what's wrong?! Did your save data get corrupted?! Did someone doxx you?! Are you dying?! Am I dying?!" He scrambled out of his ergonomic gaming chair, almost tripping over his own legs as he rushed to your side. He hovered his hands over you awkwardly, his social anxiety fighting with his absolute terror for your well-being. "D-don't cry! Please don't cry, it’s lowering my HP just looking at you!"

You grabbed his hoodie, burying your face in the soft fabric, wailing nonsense. "I sent a friend request to the best— second best in the server and it not only rejected me but left!"

Idia’s brain completely melted. Second best? rejected? Friend request? He thought you had encountered a literal anomaly on campus, or worse, some sort of magical artifact had wiped someone’s memory of you, or a student had used a cloaking spell to attack you. His mind raced through a thousand sci-fi horror scenarios.

"R-rejected you?! Did someone use a spell on you?!" Idia panicked, wrapping his arms around you awkwardly but tightly, hiding you in his hoodie. He dragged you over to his beanbag chair, sitting down next toyou. "It's okay, it's okay, I'm here. I can hack into the campus mainframes. I'll find out who did it. Just stop crying, you're gonna short-circuit my brain..."

He held you, his flaming hair dimming to a soothing, soft blue light, providing a strange but comforting warmth. He let you cry into his chest for a long time, rocking you slightly until your hysterical hyperventilating slowed down to a few quiet snifffles.

Idia let out a breath he felt like he’d been holding since freshman year. He pulled the hood back slightly, looking down at you with wide, worried yellow eyes. "O-okay. Your breathing is back to normal parameters. Now give me the details. What NPC rejected you? Who disappeared?"

You sniffled, looking up at him with big, watery eyes. "There was a little calico cat by the Ignihyde lounge... I tried to pet it... but it hissed and ran away under the floorboards!"

Idia froze. His hair turned a dull, flat gray for a split second before returning to blue.

"A... a cat?" Idia whispered, his voice cracking. "You're telling me... you triggered a boss-level crying fit... because a 3D model of a cat walked away from you?"

"It rejected my friendship, Idia!" you cried, fresh tears spilling over. Idia let out a massive, wheezing sigh, burying his face in his hands. "Bro... you gave me a literal heart attack. I thought we were dealing with an actual creepypasta or a magical anomaly." He cracked a small, relieved, and incredibly fond smile, pulling you back into his chest. "Cats are just high-difficulty evasion builds, alright? Even though they’re always cutemaxxing, they have a garbage aggro range. Next time, let me build you a robotic cat with 100% hardcoded affection stats. Just... don't scare me like that again. My heart can't take it."

Malleus Draconia

The silence of the Ramshackle dorm’s courtyard was broken when the front doors were violently thrown open. Malleus, who had been enjoying a quiet evening walk to visit you, paused as you stumbled out onto the porch.

You were weeping openly, tears streaming down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking so violently you could barely keep your balance.

Malleus’s expression shifted instantly from serene to terrifyingly intense. In a blink of an eye, he teleported right in front of you, a green mist dissipating around him. He caught you by your waist, his electric green eyes wide with a mixture of panic and fury. "[Name]! What is the meaning of this? Who has brought you to such despair? Tell me, and I shall rain down the wrath of the Valley of Thorns upon them!"

You clung to his heavy coat, sobbing uncontrollably, your words a frantic, nonsensical blur. "It was so cute Malleus, almost as cute as you! Then when I went near it, it completely ran away from my affections! I have no idea what I’ll do with myself after such an embarrassing moment!"

Malleus’s breath hitched. It? Cute? Affections? Ran away? His mind instantly flashed to his grandmother, Maleficia, or some ancient, mythical creature that had infiltrated Night Raven College to threaten his partner. A suffocating, magical aura began to leak from him, the sky above darkening with sudden storm clouds.

"A clever creature? A broken pact?" Malleus’s voice boomed softly, laced with a terrifying protective instinct. He brought you close to his chest, wrapping his arms securely around you, shielding you from the world. "Fear not. No beast, ancient or otherwise, shall harm you while I draw breath. Calm your heart, my beloved. You are safe in my arms. The storm will protect you."

He rubbed your back with his gloved hands, his deep, resonant voice murmuring ancient, soothing lullabies until the magical pressure in the air began to fade, and your frantic wails slowly subsided into quiet, exhausted sniffles against his chest.

The clouds parted, letting the moonlight shine down on the two of you. Malleus pulled back slightly, his expression soft but deeply concerned as he used his thumb to wipe away your tears. "Are you composed now, my love? Pray, tell me of this beast. What pact did they refuse? I shall force them to submit to you."

You sniffled, your bottom lip trembling as fresh tears threatened to fall. "I saw a little black cat with green eyes... I tried to pet it... but it hissed and ran away into the bushes!"

Malleus blinked. His horns twitched. The fearsome, all-powerful Fae prince looked entirely bewildered.

"A... a small feline?" he asked, trying to comprehend the vocabulary you had just used. "The 'ancient beast' was a common house cat?"

"Yes! And it hated me!" you sobbed, burying your face back into his chest. Malleus stood still for a moment, and then a soft, rumbling chuckle vibrated through his chest. The sheer relief washed over him, making him smile fondly down at your ridiculous, endearing form. He tightened his embrace, resting his cheek against your hair. "Oh, my dear [Name], my sophisticated and dramatic, dear [Name]. You possess such a grand heart to weep for the affection of a mere cat." He kissed the top of your head, his voice overflowing with affection. "Do not weep. If that creature cannot see the honor of being touched by you, then it is foolish. If you wish to pet a creature of shadow and horns... you always have me."

this was SO long(my fault btw), anyways um... c-can you please flood my inbox, v-velsettetine senpai begs of you before he's finished with his exam so he can use his writing fuel on your ideas..? arigato kohai!!🥺🥺🥺

RSA x picky eater!reader

Heartslabyul, Savannaclaw, Octavinelle, Pomefiore ,Ignihyde ,Diasomnia , Scarabia

a/n: Since every post got over 100 likes each, here's the promised RSA version

warnings: fluff, ooc word count: 1.8k

Neige LeBlanche

Neige was humming a song that sounded like it belonged in a forest clearing surrounded by bluebirds. He had prepared a beautiful, wholesome fruit and honey parfait. It was topped with perfectly whipped cream, edible flowers, and sweet apple slices cut into the shapes of little hearts. He was entirely confident, flashing a sparkling smile at his classmates.

Then the Head Chef walked by, wiping his hands on a towel. "Keep your fingers crossed, LeBlanche. Today's judge is a legendary picky eater. One weird texture and you're getting a zero."

Neige’s cheerful humming faltered by a fraction of an octave. "Oh? A difficult guest? Don't worry, Chef! Food made with love can make anyone smile—"

The cafeteria doors swung open. You walked in, giving a small, apologetic wave as you took your seat.

Neige’s jaw dropped. The little apple hearts in his hands suddenly felt like ticking time bombs. "[Name]?!", he squeaked.

His cheerful, bright-eyed persona momentarily fractured under a wave of sheer, internal dread. He knew your eating habits perfectly. You hated anything with an "unpredictable crunch." You couldn't stand the texture of edible flowers because they felt like "eating lawn clippings." And you absolutely despised it when honey made things too sticky.

Neige approached the table, his smile incredibly wide but visibly stiff. "H-Hi, [Name]! Fancy seeing you here! I made a special parfait... um, if you don't like the flowers, you can just blow them away like wishes, okay?"

You smiled up at him, wanting to support him so badly. You picked up your spoon. But as you lifted a bite, a stray flower petal got caught in a sticky swirl of honey, jiggling ominously. Your face instantly, involuntarily collapsed into an expression of quiet, profound sorrow.

Neige gasped, his hands flying to his rosy cheeks. The face! They're making the face! Oh no, the forest animals never look at my food like that! Am I a terrible boyfriend?!

To save him from a public crisis, you quickly took the bite, avoiding the petal. The whipped cream was light and perfect. You swallowed and smiled warmly. "It's alright, Neige! Really! The cream is so fluffy and sweet." Neige let out a massive, dramatic sigh of relief, his sparkling aura instantly returning as he clutched his hands together. "Oh, goodness! 'Alright' is a wonderful grade from you! Next time, I'm making a completely smooth vanilla pudding with absolutely no surprises!"

Che'nya (Alchemi Alchemivich Pinker)

Che'nya was upside down, dangling his legs over the kitchen counter while tossing a ball of dough between his hands. He had prepared a vibrant, multi-colored berry tart with a neon-pink glaze. It was chaotic, whimsical, and entirely uniquely him.

"Get down from there, Pinker," the Head Chef scolded. "And you better hope your flashy tart tastes normal. The judge today is a total nightmare to please. Super particular."

Che'nya let out a wide, mischievous purr, his eyes curving into crescents. "Nyahaha~ A picky mouse is just a fun mouse to tease! My flavors are magic—"

Then you sat down at the table.

Che'nya’s body instantly turned completely invisible, leaving only his floating, wide-eyed face and a static tail in the air. [Name]?!

His head materialized back onto his shoulders as he slid off the counter, a rare bead of sweat forming behind his cat ears. He knew your strict food laws. You hated berries with prominent seeds because they got "stuck in your teeth." You couldn't stand neon-colored food because it looked "unnatural." And his tart was currently a kaleidoscope of bright pink and seed-heavy raspberries.

"Heeeey there, [Name]~" Che'nya grinned, his floating head bobbing closer to you than usual as he slid the plate forward. "Look what I made! It's very shiny, isn't it? But, uh... if the colors make your eyes dizzy, you can just close them while you chew!"

You gave him a sweet, brave smile. "Thanks, Che'nya. I'll give it a try."

You picked up your fork and sliced off a small piece. But as you did, the bright pink glaze oozed out, revealing a dense cluster of raspberry seeds. Your face automatically contorted into a look of pure, instinctual, tragic dismay.

Che'nya’s tail stood straight up like a lightning rod. "Agh! The look of absolute defeat! You haven't even chewed it yet and you look like you've been hexed! Come on, don't look at my masterpiece like it's a hairball!"

To calm his frantic tail-swishing, you quickly popped the bite into your mouth, swallowing it fast to avoid the seeds. You offered a reassuring smile. "No, Che'nya, it's alright! The pastry crust is actually super buttery and delicious."

Che'nya blinked, his floating grin slowly returning to its usual massive width as he melted back into invisibility, leaving only his purring voice behind. "Nyahaha! 'Alright' is a passing grade in my book!"

Minajael Tealrajah

Minajael stood at his station, completely composed and practical. He had approached the exam with the sharp, calculated precision of a prince who excelled at everything he touched. He had prepared a traditional, aromatic meat flatbread from the Scalding Sands, beautifully folded and lightly brushed with clarified butter. He was completely unbound by the stress of the kitchen, looking thoroughly relaxed.

Then the Head Chef called out, "Watch out, Rajah. The judge today has a reputation for being an absolute terror with textures. Don't let your guard down."

Minajael smoothly adjusted his patterned headband, his dark brown eyes cool and focused. "My, really? Maybe I might finally get my first ever critic since—"

The doors opened, and you walked in.

Minajael’s posture locked up. For a fraction of a second, his gold and teal eyeshadowed eyelids fluttered in absolute, uncharacteristic shock. [Name]?

His brilliant, versatile mind immediately shattered his calm facade and threw him into a high-speed strategy meeting with himself. He knew your eating restrictions inside and out because he actively tried to help you avoid them. You hated flatbreads if they were "too chewy" or "too doughy." You couldn't stand strong, overlapping herbs that "fought each other" in your mouth. And his flatbread was loaded with a robust blend of traditional spices.

Minajael approached your table, his baggy Sarouel pants flowing gracefully, though his hand shook slightly as he set the plate down. The gold coins and chains on his belt gave a frantic, nervous jingle.

"I have prepared a spiced flatbread, [Name]," Minajael said, his voice smooth but lacking its usual relaxed, casual air. He leaned in slightly, his long cloth tassels swaying near his waist. "I rolled the dough extra thin so it wouldn't be too dense. If... if the spices are too aggressive, please do not force yourself."

You smiled up at him, wanting to be a good partner to the brilliant prince who always looked out for you. You tore off a piece of the bread. But as you did, a heavy pocket of green herbs and melted butter became visible in the center. Your face instantly, involuntarily fell into an expression of profound, silent suffering.

Minajael’s left eyebrow twitched violently. They’re is doing the face. The 'this is a royal execution' face. For a man who prided himself on his freedom and ability to handle any situation, he felt completely trapped. "If it displeases you to that extent, [Name], I can throw it away. I don't care about the grade."

"No, Minajael, I want to try it!" you insisted. You took a bite, chewing through the initial burst of herbs. To your relief, the bread was light and crisp. You swallowed and smiled warmly. "It's alright! Truly. The bread is so crispy, and the butter makes it really savory."

Minajael stared at you for a long moment, the tension completely leaving his shoulders as he let out a slow, controlled breath through his nose. A practical, slightly relieved smirk finally graced his lips as he crossed his arms. "Alright? Well... considering your usual battle with anything green, I'll take 'alright' as a total victory. Next time, I'll omit the herbs entirely and just make it plain for you."

Rielle Corallia

Rielle was practically vibrating with hyperactive energy, his long, wavy red hair bouncing past his waist as he proudly displayed his dish. Having longed for the surface world his entire life, he had eagerly prepared a classic "land dish": a rustic, hearty potato and leek soup with toasted croutons. He was smiling wide, his turquoise eyes shining with absolute optimism.

"Calm down, Prince Rielle," the Head Chef sighed. "And brace yourself. The judge today is incredibly finicky. If your soup has a weird film or texture, you're done for."

Rielle laughed heartily, adjusting the messy bun held together by a fork at the back of his head. "Haha! Don't worry, Chef! Everything on the surface tastes amazing to me! I'm sure the judge will love the adventure of—"

He froze mid-laugh as you sat down at the table.

Rielle’s jaw dropped. The gold, marine-themed hair cuffs on his head seemed to rattle with his sudden, immense panic. [Name]?!

His headfirst, reckless optimism completely crashed into reality. He knew your eating habits because he spent all his time trying to understand surface customs through you. You hated cream-based soups if they were "too thick." You thought cooked leeks felt like "slimy strings." And his croutons were currently soaking up the soup, becoming exactly the kind of mushy texture you despised.

Rielle marched over to your table, his dark blue button boots clicking loudly, the dozens of seashell and character charms hanging from his brown belts clattering frantically like a wind chime in a hurricane.

"Here is my surface soup, [Name]!" Rielle blurted out, his face flushing pink to match his blush. "I... I know you don't like mushy things! The croutons are getting soggy really fast! Oh no, the Flounder charm told me I should have kept them on the side! Don't eat the soggy parts!"

You smiled up at him, deeply touched by his enthusiastic, sweet panic. "It's okay, Rielle, it looks lovely."

You picked up your spoon and scooped up a bite, but a long, stringy piece of cooked leek wrapped itself around the spoon next to a melting crouton. Your face automatically contorted into a look of pure, instinctual, apocalyptic dread.

Rielle looked like his soul was being sucked out through his teal-eyelined upper lashes. He threw his hands in the air, his long red hair flying wildly. "Aaaagh! The face of ultimate surface despair! I've failed you! I should have stayed in the ocean! I'm a terrible land-boyfriend!"

To stop his dramatic downward spiral, you quickly swallowed the bite. The actual flavor of the potato broth was wonderfully seasoned and warm. You smiled brightly at him. "Rielle, stop! It's alright! The soup itself is so warm and comforting, and the seasoning is perfect!"

Rielle blinked, his chaotic energy instantly pivoting back to pure, blinding joy. He beamed down at you, his turquoise eyes sparkling. "Really?! It's alright?! Whew... you totally scared me with that look, [Name]! 'Alright' means I'm doing great for a sea prince, right? Next time, I'm blending it until it's as smooth as water!"

a/n: heh i need me more RSA content i love RSA sm, i should write more RSA

For example, imagine Leona growling at the reader bcs they kiss his cheeks while shapeshift into malleus

Feel free to write it if you’d like, but no pressure! Have a nice day, and thank you!

Flesh-weaving Lover

sorry it took so long to get to this, I was mixing up some funny scenarios in my head + trying to analyse the Housewardens more<3

warnings: ooc(I'm trying my best!) reader x all the housewardens(seperately)

a/n: has someone ordered this with a different server? I swear I’ve seen it before… no matter! I’ll still fulfil this request to the best of my abilities. Thank you for ordering and come again~

Riddle Rosehearts

As much as he loves your own little unique magic(it can come in handy sometimes), if you ever tried something against him, it’ll be off with your head. [Name] completely forgot they had shape-shifted into Trey to avoid Crowley’s questions, sometimes it just came naturally to you. So seeing Trey come up to Riddle and kiss his cheek in the middle of the hallway was a sight to behold, Riddle’s eyes widened feeling “Trey’s” lips connect to his cheek before pulling away. “Trey, pray tell why on wonderland would you ever do that?!” Riddle squeaked, his hand shooting up to his cheek. “Trey” raised an eyebrow before looking down at your attire, “Trey” sighed before turning back into [Name], your original form. The result?: [Name] received a good scolding from Riddle about how he “talked about showing him affections as someone else”, putting a heart-shaped collar on their neck- maybe then [Name] wouldn’t recklessly turn into others for probably a week, unless they bribed the tyrant enough to take the collar off early.

Leona Kingscholar

He finds your unique magic much better than his own, it’s much more useful and can be used to trick others.

Leona relies on his sense of smell, so you can’t really fool him for long, but you can definitely annoy him. While he was dozing off under his favorite tree, you shifted into Malleus Draconia. You stood over him, casting a big shadow, and poked his cheek.

Leona’s ears flicked, and he let out a deep, rumbling growl without even opening his eyes. "I know it’s you, herbivore. You don't smell like old magic and rain." Even so, when you leaned down to kiss his cheek while still looking like his rival, he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down into the grass. He pinned you in a playful headlock until you shifted back to yourself, huffing about how you "ruined his nap" even though he kept his arm around you the whole time.

Azul Ashengrotto

Admittedly, he's considered using your unique magic to scare off contractors who failed to meet the requirement, or maybe just taking the unique magic all together.

However seeing it in work changed whatever positive thoughts he had on your unique magic: Azul sees your magic as a business problem. He is constantly worried you will shift into him and sign bad contracts. One night at the Mostro Lounge, you did exactly that. You shifted into Azul, sat at his private table, and started telling the customers that their debts were forgiven if they could win a game of rock-paper-scissors.

The real Azul came out of the kitchen and stopped dead in his tracks. For a second, he looked like he was seeing a ghost. He scrambled over to stop you, waving his hands around. "Stop! Desist! I would never offer such a terrible deal!" You just laughed and shifted into Floyd, which made Azul even more nervous because now he had to deal with a "fake" eel who was even more unpredictable than the real one.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim thinks your magic is the best party trick in the world. He doesn’t get annoyed at all; he just gets excited. He often asks you to shift into Jamil so the two of you can go sneak snacks from the kitchen.

One time, you shifted into Jamil and started doing a very dramatic, grumpy walk around the dorm. Kalim was doubled over laughing, pointing at you. "That's exactly how he looks when I ask for another celebratory party!" When the real Jamil walked in, he saw two versions of himself—one laughing with Kalim and one looking very disappointed— that obviously being himself. He just let out a sigh and turned around ,walking back out, deciding he didn't want to deal with another Jamil today.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil thinks your magic is useful, but only if you use it for "art." He gets very picky about the details. If you shift into Rook, Vil will point out if your hat is at the wrong angle or if your French accent sounds too fake.

To mess with him, [Name] shifted into Neige LeBlanche, his biggest rival. You skipped into the ballroom and started singing a high-pitched, sugary song about friendship. Vil dropped his makeup brush in shock. His eyes went wide, and for a moment, he actually looked scared. Once he realized it was you, he grabbed [Name]'s shoulders before scolding you "How dare you bring that energy into my dorm! Shift back this instant, or I’ll make you do a hundred face masks as punishment!"

Idia Shroud

Idia already hates talking to people, so seeing "fake" people is a total nightmare for his brain. Although he was a little dissapointed once you told him that it'd be impossible to turn into his favorite fictional characters.

You once shifted into Crowley and knocked on his room door. Idia looked through the camera, once he saw the "headmage"; he immediately started screaming and hiding under his desk. When you started laughing and shifted back into your normal self, Idia opened the door just a crack, his blue hair flickering like a weak candle. "That’s... that’s literally cheating," he squeaked. "You can’t just use a skin-changer mod in real life. It’s bad for my heart rate. Please, just be yourself... my social battery can’t handle the RNG of your face."

Malleus Draconia

Malleus is known and proven to be very lonely, so he actually enjoys your shapeshifting because it makes his days more interesting.

You once shifted into Lilia and tried to give Malleus a "lecture" about eating his vegetables.

Malleus watched you with a curious look, his glowing green eyes tracking your every move. He knew it was you because he could feel your heartbeat, but he absolutely adored the effort you put in. He leaned in close, his horns almost touching your forehead. "You mimic my Lilia well, like a pantomime with words," he whispered with a smirk. "But Lilia is much shorter than you. If you want to fool me, you’ll have to try harder." He then spent the rest of the evening asking you to shift into different animals just so he could see how the magic worked.

Heartslabyul - Hertsyabul

Savanaclaw - Savaclaw

Octavinelle - Octovanile

Scarabia - Scarbia

Pomfiore - Pomfire

Ignihyde - Iginihyde

Diasomnia -Diasmonia

I had a little trouble thinking of something silly like that for Savanaclaw and Scarabia since those two are the only ones where I haven't mispronounced them, if you have any better ideas for names for those two I'd love to see them please :D.

Is that not the Name?

a/n: I hope it's okay if I changed the names a bit lmao, I thought these were a little funnier. Also if you notice anything different... no you don't.

warnings: this is silly and fun, nothing serious, possible ooc since this is a crack fic

Riddle Rosehearts

The afternoon sun filtered beautifully through the rose maze, casting checkered shadows across the pristine white tablecloth. You were supposed to be reviewing the tea party seating charts with Riddle, but your eyes were glazing over. Riddle, ever the perfectionist, was passionately explaining the intricate differences between Rule #256 and Rule #381.

"And so, if the hedgehog is a darker shade of brown, the mallet must be swapped," Riddle said, tapping his quill against the parchment. He looked up, his grey-blue eyes softening as he noticed your slightly spaced-out expression. "Are you listening, [Name]? This is crucial for maintaining the order of our dorm."

You blinked, offering him a sweet, albeit sleepy, smile. "Of course I am, Riddle. I know how much you care about keeping things perfect over at Heart-stable."

The quill in Riddle’s hand snapped perfectly in half.

The silence that followed was heavy enough to drop a guillotine. Riddle’s face underwent a fascinating, terrifying transformation—shifting from pale cream, to a light pink, to a violent, glowing crimson that rivaled the roses behind him. His chest heaved as he stood up so fast his chair screeched against the stone patio.

"Heart-stable?!" he shrieked, his voice cracking slightly with pure, unadulterated outrage. "Did you just refer to the noble house founded on the severe focus of the Queen of Hearts as a stable?! We do not house horses, [Name]! We house disciplined students! It is Heartslabyul! Heart-sla-byul!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at how adorable he looked when he was completely beside himself, which only made his eye twitch. Seeing your grin, Riddle let out a long, defeated sigh, his shoulders slumping as the red faded from his cheeks. He crossed his arms, looking away with a pout. "Honestly... if anyone else said that, it would be 'off with their head' instantly. You are incredibly lucky that I love you, because your complete disregard for proper nomenclature is an absolute violation of my sanity."

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was sprawled across the sofa in the Savannaclaw lounge, his head resting in your lap while you mindlessly ran your fingers through his thick, brown hair. It was one of the rare moments he wasn't actively snoring, instead just basking in your attention like a massive, content housecat.

"Hey, Leona?" you murmured, looking around the rugged, sun-baked lounge. "I was thinking about the inter-dorm magift tournament next month."

"Don't care. We're gonna win anyway," he grunted, closing his eyes tighter as your fingers scratched just behind his lion ears.

"Right, but I was thinking of making some custom banners for you guys," you continued, smiling. "You know, to show some support for Santa Clause."

Leona’s ears twitched instantly. One green eye snapped open, staring up at you with a mix of profound confusion and mild irritation. He didn't move from your lap, but the lazy, relaxed vibe completely vanished.

"Who the hell is Santa Clause?" Leona growled, his voice a deep, gravelly rumble.

"Your dorm?" you offered.

Leona let out a heavy, dramatic groan, rolling over to bury his face against your stomach. "Are you losing your mind, herbivore? Savannaclaw. It's Savannaclaw. Named after the King of Beasts' persistence. Where the hell did you get a fat guy in a red suit from a desert dorm?"

"It kind of sounds similar if you say it fast!"

"It sounds nothing alike," he mumbled, his voice muffled by your shirt. He reached up, wrapping a heavy arm around your waist to anchor you down. "That's it. You're restricted from talking for the rest of my nap. If I hear you call my dorm some festive nonsense again, I'm throwing you out the window."

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was in his element, sitting behind his grand desk in the Mostro Lounge, counting the night's earnings with a sharp, satisfied smirk. You were sitting on the edge of his desk, kicking your legs and sipping on a complimentary drink he’d personally made for you.

"A spectacular turnout tonight," Azul hummed, adjusting his glasses. "At this rate, our profit margins for the quarter will exceed my projections by a solid fifteen percent. The reputation of our establishment is flawless."

"You really are a genius, Azul," you said, setting your glass down. "I always tell people that Octovanilla has the best service on campus."

The clinking of coins stopped instantly. Azul froze, a single gold coin slipping from his fingers and rolling across the polished wood of his desk. He slowly raised his head, his professional smile completely dropping into a mask of pure horror.

"Octo... vanilla?" Azul whispered, as if pronouncing a curse word. "Vanilla?! [Name], please tell me my ears deceive me. We are Octavinelle! A name that evokes the mystery, depth, and sophistication of the Sea Witch! We deal in contracts, benevolence, and high-end lounge dining!"

"Well, yeah, but vanilla is a nice flavor—"

"It is a basic flavor!" Azul cried out, dramatically pushing himself back from his desk and gripping his hair. "Vanilla is ordinary! It is plain! Are you implying my dorm, my pride and joy, is plain? I did not spend months perfecting our sea-foam color scheme and jazz-infused ambiance to be compared to a standard baking ingredient! Oh, the sheer disrespect... and from my own significant other! I need a moment to recalculate my emotional damages."

Kalim Al-Asim

The Scarabia banquet hall was completely transformed for the evening. Kalim had decided, completely on a whim, that the two of you needed a "celebration of [Name] overcoming a random fear." He had the cooking staff prepare a massive feast, complete with shimmering platters of roasted meats, towers of colorful tropical fruits, and endless carafes of sweet melon juice. Music echoed off the golden pillars as Kalim danced around the room before finally flopping down next to you on a mountain of velvet cushions, his face flushed and his wide, ruby-red eyes sparkling with pure joy.

"Ahhh, that was so much fun!" Kalim laughed, practically vibrating with energy as he poured you another glass of juice. "I'm so glad you came over tonight, [Name]. It’s always ten times better when you’re here. Everything just feels brighter!"

You smiled warmly, leaning over to wipe a stray splash of juice from his cheek with a napkin. "I always love coming over, Kalim. You really know how to throw the best parties here at Scabies."

Kalim’s beaming grin didn't falter for a single second. He just kept right on smiling, blinking his big red eyes cheerfully.

"Yeah, we really do! It's because—wait." Kalim tilted his head, his white bangs shifting as he processed the sound. He tapped his chin with a finger, a look of profound, adorable confusion washing over his face. "Scabies? Wait... Like the bug? The rash? Oh no!" He gasped, his eyes going wide with a sudden fright. "Jamil's afraid of bugs we need to kill it before he sees it!"

"Kalim, wait, don't!" you panicked, grabbing the sleeve of his ornate vest before he could bolt toward the kitchen. Kalim paused, looking back at you with a curious pout. "Why not? Is it a secret?"

"I accidentally mispronounced Scarabia," you confessed, hiding your burning face in your hands.

Kalim blinked, and then he let out a laugh so loud and joyous it echoed off the ceiling. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a massive, enthusiastic hug that practically squeezed the air right out of your lungs. "Hahaha! Oh, [Name], you're so funny! A bug infestation?! If Jamil heard you say that, his face would turn completely sour! He works so hard to keep the floors shiny!" He pulled back, beaming at you with absolute affection, completely unfazed by the insult to his beloved dorm. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me! But just in case, let’s go wash our hands so we definitely don't get 'scabies'!"

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was sitting at his vanity, meticulously applying a nighttime serum to his flawless visage, while you sat on the edge of his bed, watching his mesmerizing routine. The room smelled of lavender, expensive rosewater, and luxury. Vil glanced at you through the mirror, his purple eyes narrowing slightly in critique, though his expression remained fond.

"Your skin looks a bit dehydrated tonight, meine liebe," Vil murmured, dabbing a bit of product onto his fingertips. "You must remember that beauty requires constant upkeep. The standards I set for my dorm must be mirrored by the one I hold closest to my heart."

"I know, I know," you laughed lightly, leaning back on your hands. "I promise to do my skincare routine. I can't be letting down the reputation of Palmfrond."

The serum bottle in Vil's hand hovered in the air.

Slowly, gracefully, Vil turned around on his stool to face you. His expression was a masterpiece of cold, aristocratic disbelief. His gaze swept down your body and back up, as if checking if you had suddenly been replaced by an imposter.

"Palmfrond?" Vil repeated, his voice dripping with a mix of elegant disdain and utter shock. "A palmfrond? As in... a piece of stray, tropical greenery that washes up on a beach? Oh mein Gott... You are comparing the house of the Beautiful Queen—a sanctuary of elegance, potionology, and high fashion—to a leaf?"

You bit your lip to hide a giggle, which only incensed him more. Vil stood up, walking over to you with dramatic, sweeping strides. He caught your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up to force you to look into his beautiful, narrowed eyes. "Listen to me closely, [Name]. It is Pomefiore. If I hear you utter that atrocious, uncultured word again, I will personally banish all your favorite snacks from the lounge and replace them with raw celery. Am I understood?"

Idia Shroud

You were sitting in Idia’s room, curled up in his gaming chair while he sat at his massive desk, surrounded by blinking monitors and floating holographic screens. He was in the middle of a massive raid, furiously clicking his mouse and typing at lightning speed, his blue fire hair flickering with excitement.

"Target down! Boom! That's how a pro handles a boss phase!" Idia cackled, slouching back in his chair with a triumphant grin. He turned to you, his eyes bright behind his bangs. "Did you see that, [Name]? Absolute peak performance. No one can touch my guild."

"You were amazing, Idia," you smiled, tossing a plushie at him, which he caught clumsily. "You really bring a lot of energy to Ignite."

Idia froze. The typing stopped. The ambient humming of his computer fans suddenly felt incredibly loud. His blue flame hair abruptly died down to a dull, low, flickering dark blue, mimicking his sudden drop into severe introversion.

"I-Ignite...?" Idia mumbled, his voice dropping into that quiet, fast-talking mutter he used when he was severely overwhelmed. "Are you... are you making a dad joke? Is this a pun? Please tell me you didn't just unironically call my dorm 'Ignite'. We're Ignihyde. Like... Hades? The underworld? Cool tech-necromancy?" He spun his chair around completely, pulling his knees to his chest and burying his face in them. "Oh my god, my own partner thinks my dorm sounds like a generic mobile game app or a cheesy fitness slogan. This is normie culture osmosis. I'm being corrupted. The cringe is dealing psychological damage..."

"Idia, wait, I just mispronounced it!" you laughed, walking over to wrap your arms around his slouched shoulders.

He peeked out from behind his knees, his face completely flushed, though his hair flared back up to a warm, bright blue at your proximity. "Y-You can't just do that to an introverted gamer, [Name]... My heart rate literally spiked. You owe me an in-game carry for that. And never say that word in the chat, the guild will never let me live it down."

Malleus Draconia

A midnight stroll through the botanical gardens was a regular occurrence for you and Malleus. The Night Raven College campus was dead silent, save for the gentle clicking of Malleus’s boots on the stone path. He walked beside you, towering and regal, a look of profound peace on his face as he looked up at the full moon.

"The night air is particularly crisp this evening," Malleus spoke, his deep voice carrying a melodic tone. "It reminds me of the Valley of Thorns. I am glad you chose to walk with me, [Name]. Sometimes, the burdens of leadership can feel quite isolating, but you always bring me comfort."

You smiled softly, slipping your hand into his gloved one. He squeezed it gently. "I'm always happy to spend time with you, Malleus. You work so hard, especially with how demanding things get over at Insomnia."

Malleus stopped walking.

The green flames that occasionally flickered around him sparked once, sharply, before vanishing. He tilted his head, his luminous green eyes blinking in genuine, innocent confusion. He looked at you, then up at the sky, then back down to your face, trying to process the word through his centuries of knowledge.

"Insomnia?" Malleus repeated, the word sounding incredibly foreign on his tongue. "As in... the human medical condition regarding the inability to sleep? Have my students been complaining of sleeplessness? Or do you imply that my presence keeps you awake at night, [Name]?"

You put a hand over your mouth, realizing the hilarious gravity of your mistake. "No, Malleus! Your dorm name is Diasomnia... I accidentally called it Insomnia."

Malleus paused, a slow, incredibly amused smile spreading across his handsome face. He let out a soft, deep chuckle that reverberated through the quiet garden. "Ah. A play on words. Lilia did mention that humans enjoy 'puns,' though I did not expect one from you. However..." He stepped closer, leaning down so his horns nearly brushed your forehead, his eyes glittering with a playful, mischievous light. "If my dorm truly causes you sleeplessness, perhaps I should ensure you stay up even later with me next time. What do you think?"

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this anon or I may explode.

Poor Unfortunate Child

a/n: Your order has been made! Hope you enjoy, we all collectively love young yuu

part 1(Overblotters) is here, part 2(Staff) is here

warnings: mentions of malnourishment, child employment(??somewhat?), child neglect this is a platonic fanfic wc:

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie knew the exact cost of a calorie. He had spent his entire life in the slums measuring food in scraps and weighing the energy spent against the energy gained. He had been keeping an eye on Yuu for a while, mostly out of a habit of tracking the weak, but when he dropped by Ramshackle to return a borrowed pot, he caught Yuu trying to lift a standard-issue NRC water bucket. Their small wrists were trembling, their stance completely wrong for someone supposedly sixteen. Ruggie patted them down under the guise of a playful greeting, his experienced hands instantly reading the truth in their skeletal structure: thin ribs, narrow collarbones, and a physical frame that belonged to a twelve-year-old cub from back home. When he flat-out demanded their real age and Yuu confessed they were barely thirteen, Ruggie’s usual sly smirk vanished entirely.

The poverty of the Sunset Savannah taught you to survive, but it also taught you that protecting the cubs was a sacred, communal law. A cold, feral rage ignited in Ruggie’s chest. The lazy, feathered bastard of a Headmage was hoarding a massive budget while leaving a literal middle-schooler to starve in a ghost-infested ruin, using them as free labor to clean up magical disasters. Ruggie’s ears pinned back flat against his head, a vicious snarl ripping from his throat as he grabbed his magical pen, fiercely declaring he was going to rob Crowley blind, pickpocket his very soul, and then break his nose with a rock for good measure.

Yuu, terrified by the raw, uncharacteristic fury of the usually easygoing hyena, threw themselves around his waist. They held on tight, pleading that stealing or picking a fight with the school's authority would only get Ruggie expelled or thrown in a dungeon, and that violence wouldn't change the fact that they were stuck here.

Ruggie stiffened, the frantic warmth of the kid pressing against him slowly grounding his wild anger. He let out a long, ragged breath, his ears twitching as he forced down his instinct to tear Crowley apart. He wouldn't catch a criminal charge over the bird, but things were changing today. Ruggie immediately took total control of Yuu's daily life. He began smuggling massive portions of meat and nutrient-dense leftovers from the Savanaclaw kitchens directly to Ramshackle, personally supervising Yuu’s meals and swatting their hands away if they tried to do any heavy lifting.

Floyd Leech

Floyd’s moods were entirely unpredictable, shifting like the tides, but his perception of sizes and boundaries was remarkably sharp. He had caught Yuu walking near the courtyard and decided it was time for a standard, crushing greeting. He lunged forward, wrapping his long arms around them for a massive squeeze, but the moment he lifted them off the ground, he froze. "Huh... Shrimpy?" Yuu felt completely wrong in his arms. They didn't have the weight or the solid skeletal structure of a sixteen-year-old human; they felt like a tiny, fragile little sea creature that hadn't even grown its adult fins yet. Floyd set them down, his heterochromia eyes narrowing as he poked their forehead, demanding to know why they were so incredibly dinky. When Yuu squeaked out that they were actually twelve, turning thirteen, Floyd’s playful demeanor died instantly.

The sudden drop in Floyd’s temperature was palpable, the air around him thickening with the suffocating pressure of a deep-sea predator. His eyes went completely wide and dark, a terrifying, humorless grin stretching across his face. The "Bird-Man" Headmage had been playing a very bad joke. He was treating a tiny baby shrimp like a full-grown student, squeezing them for labor, and letting them dry out without proper food while dangerous monsters roamed the halls. Floyd’s fingers twitched, his magic flaring with a wild, chaotic current as he giggled darkly, muttering that he was going to squeeze Crowley until his feathers popped off, break all his ribs, and feed him to the sharks at the bottom of the Coral Sea.

Yuu, absolutely horrified by the lethal aura rolling off the eel, grabbed his giant hand with both of theirs, squeezing with all their might. They begged him to stop, crying out that hurting Crowley wouldn't make them grow any faster, and that using violence to solve things just made everyone live in fear.

Floyd stared down at his hand, looking at the tiny, desperate fingers wrapping around his knuckles. The dark, manic light in his eyes slowly shifted, replaced by a strange, hyper-focused protectiveness. He let out a long whine, dropping his magic, but he didn't leave Yuu's side. From that afternoon on, Floyd became an inescapable shadow. He dragged Yuu to the Mostro Lounge for three heavy meals a day, personally cutting up their food like they were royalty, and if anyone so much as bumped into "Little Shrimpy" in the hallways, Floyd would loom over them with a look so terrifying it threatened to stop their heart.

Jade Leech

Jade was a gentleman who prided himself on his immaculate manners, his observation skills, and his ability to decipher the hidden truths of others. He had invited Yuu to join the Mountain Loving Club for a mild stroll, intending to show them some edible wild mushrooms. However, when Yuu tried to step over a fallen log, their foot slipped, and Jade caught them by the arm. The sheer lack of mass, combined with the distinct fragility of their joints, immediately set off alarms in his analytical mind. Jade quietly observed Yuu’s breathing patterns, their small stride, and their adolescent facial features beneath the oversized uniform. "Yuu-san," Jade murmured, his smile perfectly pleasant but his eyes sharp as needles. "Forgive my forwardness, but what is your exact age?" When Yuu meekly confessed to being twelve, Jade's smile remained frozen, but the warmth completely vanished from his eyes.

The sheer, calculated malice that emanated from Jade in that moment was enough to make the forest around them go dead silent. Crowley had crossed a boundary that even the most ruthless denizens of the deep sea respected: the exploitation and starvation of a child. Jade’s mind immediately began cataloging a dozen different species of highly toxic, agonizing fungi he had harvested, visualizing exactly how he could introduce them into the Headmage’s private tea supply to cause prolonged, excruciating organ failure.

Yuu, sensing the terrifyingly polite, murderous atmosphere radiating from the vice-housewarden, quickly grabbed the lapels of his blazer. They looked up at him, pleading that poisoning the Headmage would only cause a massive investigation, ruin the school, and that answering cruelty with blood never truly solved the root problem.

Jade looked down at the child clutching his suit, taking note of their trembling but resolute grip. He closed his eyes, taking a smooth, controlled breath, and gently patted Yuu’s head. He agreed to refrain from any lethal culinary experiments, but his courtesy was now entirely a weapon for Yuu's protection. Jade immediately restructured Ramshackle’s daily deliveries, ensuring that the finest, most nutrient-dense ingredients were sent directly to their kitchen. He stepped into the role of a strictly vigilant, terrifyingly polite guardian, ensuring that no student, faculty member, or feathered headmage ever dared to place an undue burden on the child again.

Kalim Al Asim

Kalim had always treated Yuu like one of his own family members, throwing banquets and inviting them to Scarabia whenever he could, but he had never truly looked at their physical metrics until they participated in a casual dance at the dorm. Yuu had tripped over their own trousers, which were rolled up multiple times at the ankles. Kalim helped them up, laughing cheerfully, but as he dusted them off, he realized just how small their waist was—his hands could almost meet around it. He patted their cheeks, noticing the lack of the healthy fullness that all the children in the Al-Asim estate possessed. "Hey, Yuu, you look way smaller than my younger siblings who are fifteen!" Kalim laughed, entirely innocent. "How old are you anyway?" When Yuu sheepishly admitted they were actually twelve, Kalim’s cheerful smile dropped instantly.

For the first time in his life, Kalim looked genuinely, terrifyingly angry. The bright, sunny demeanor vanished, replaced by the fierce, protective wrath of an eldest brother of dozens of siblings. Crowley had taken a child—a precious, fragile fledgling—and left them in a freezing, broken house with barely any food, expecting them to fight off dark magic and overblots! Kalim’s magic flared, the water vials at his hip rattling violently as he yelled that he was going to summon a massive tidal wave to completely wash Crowley’s office away, flood his quarters, and force him out of the country by midnight.

Yuu, shocked by the sudden storm brewing in the gentle heir, jumped forward and hugged him tightly around the neck. They begged him to calm down, telling him that destroying the campus with water wouldn't put food in Ramshackle's pantry, and that hurting people out of anger never brought true peace.

Kalim blinked, his hot anger melting into immense, tearful sorrow as he hugged the child back tightly. He dismissed the magic, wiping his eyes, but his resolve remained absolute. Crowley was banned from ever speaking to Yuu without a witness. Kalim immediately ordered a massive caravan of supplies from the Al-Asim treasuries—plush blankets, top-tier heaters, and a personal chef to be stationed near Ramshackle to prepare three grand, vitamin-rich feasts a day. Yuu was officially declared Kalim’s adopted little sibling, and the entire wealth of Scarabia was mobilized to ensure they were pampered and protected.

Silver

Silver was deeply attuned to the natural world and the vulnerabilities of living things, a trait drilled into him by Lilia. During a joint training session, Silver noticed Yuu sitting on a bench, their head nodding as they succumbed to exhaustion. He walked over to drape his jacket over them, but when he adjusted it, he felt the extreme light weight of their body against the bench. He knelt down, checking their pulse and breathing. Their physical development indicators, their bone structure, and the clear signs of growth-period fatigue were completely wrong for a sixteen-year-old. When Yuu woke up with a yawn, Silver gently but firmly asked them about their life before NRC. When the number twelve left their lips, Silver’s amethyst eyes widened in complete shock.

The quiet, gentle knight completely transformed. A cold, lethal aura of a trained warrior bled from Silver’s posture, his hand instantly dropping to the hilt of his magical sword. The Headmage had committed a grievous sin against the laws of chivalry and basic humanity. He had abandoned a defenseless child in a ruined castle, forcing them to stand on the front lines of deadly magical battles while denying them proper nourishment. Silver’s gaze became razor-sharp, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy whisper as he stated he was going to march directly to the main pavilion, draw his blade, and cut Crowley down where he stood for harming a youth.

Yuu, terrified that Silver was actually going to execute the Headmage in broad daylight, grabbed his sword hand, throwing their small frame over the sheath. They pleaded with him, arguing that a knight’s duty was to protect, not to commit murder, and that attacking Crowley would only ruin Silver's future while solving absolutely nothing.

Silver looked down at the child clinging desperately to his hands, their earnest voice cutting through his righteous fury. He slowly let go of the hilt, exhaling a long, steady breath. He wouldn't draw blood, but his duty was clear. Silver immediately declared himself Yuu’s personal guardian knight. He moved his routine patrols to encircle Ramshackle Dorm, brought them healthy, home-cooked meals from Diasomnia every single day, and stood like an unyielding wall between Yuu and any danger, ensuring the child would never have to fight a battle alone again.

a/n: i was listening to some BULL

That blog of child yuu with the protection of the dorm leaders(+jamil) was great work.

Can u do it again?

But this time with the teachers being protective & helping out the poor kid

Oh! She can have some crazy, amazing adventures with the dorm leaders & their friends 2 keep her outta harm, 2 make memories

Poor Unfortunate Child

a/n: I personally don't think the teachers any better than Cr*wley(maybe a lil bit) but here you go. Hope you enjoy this and please come again!

part 1(Overblotters) is here

warnings: mentions of malnourishment, child employment(??somewhat?), child neglect this is a platonic fanfic wc: 1.6k

Divus Crewel

It was during a routine uniform fitting for a uniform check that Divus Crewel’s meticulous eye caught the anomaly. He had ordered standard extra-small measurements based on Yuu’s student file, but when he went to drape the fabric over the prefect’s shoulders, it swallowed them whole. Crewel frowned, pulling out his measuring tape to manually take their proportions. The skeletal structure, the shoulder span, the bone density indicators—none of it aligned with a sixteen-year-old youth. He stared down at Yuu, his silver-and-black hair catching the light as his voice dropped its usual theatrical flair. "Pup... how old are you, exactly?" When Yuu softly muttered that they were barely twelve and a half, Crewel dropped his measuring tape.

The temperature in the fashion lab plummeted. Crewel’s knuckles turned white around his red-tipped pointer, his eyes flashing with a cold, terrifying fury. An actual fledgling. A child who should still be protected by the highest laws of childcare, forced to act as an unpaid investigator, facing down corrupted, overblotted teenagers while living in a derelict house with a dietary intake that wouldn't sustain a standard domestic cat. Crewel slammed his pointer against his desk, the sound echoing like a gunshot as he snarled about skinning that incompetent, feathered parasite Crowley alive and turning his coat into a rug.

Yuu, terrified that their teacher was about to commit a felony, lunged forward and grabbed the edge of his black-and-white coat. They pleaded with him, digging their heels into the floor and arguing that turning the Headmage into a coat wouldn't fix their living conditions, and that violence never solved anything.

Crewel looked down at the tiny hand clutching his expensive fabric, his breathing ragged as he forced his murderous instincts down. With a sharp, practiced click of his tongue, he lowered his weapon. "Fine. Violence is messy anyway," he hissed, smoothing his lapels. "But that incompetent mutt is officially banned from managing your affairs."

Within an hour, Crewel had completely rewritten Yuu’s life. He confiscated their threadbare hand-me-downs, replacing them with a custom wardrobe heavily woven with protective, warming charms. More importantly, he established a strict, non-negotiable dietary regimen, personally preparing nutrient-packed, gourmet meals in his lab and forcing Yuu to sit and eat them under his watchful, fiercely protective gaze.

Mozus Trein

Trein was a man of strict history, records, and absolute accuracy. He had called Yuu into his office to discuss their performance in Magical History, noticing a slight lag in their reading comprehension of complex, archaic legal terms. As he handed them a foundational textbook, he noticed how much they struggled just to hold the heavy, leather-bound tome. Lucius, his cat, trotted over and sniffed Yuu’s ankles, letting out a sharp, distressed meow that made Trein pause. Lucius only made that sound when an animal or person was severely underweight. Trein pulled out the school's historical ledger of enrollment, comparing Yuu's physical appearance with standard human developmental charts. "Prefect," Trein said, his voice grave. "State your true birth year." The answer they gave made his old heart stop for a beat. Twelve.

Trein’s quill snapped in his hand, black ink splattering across his pristine desk. For a conservative, traditional educator who viewed the protection of youth as a sacred duty, this was a monstrous failure of ethics. Dire Crowley had knowingly brought a middle-school child into a high-level magic academy, neglected their basic human right to proper sustenance, and used them as a shield against deadly magical anomalies. Trein stood up, his posture rigid, his magical energy flaring with a suffocating, ancient pressure that made the loose papers in the room flutter wildly. He grabbed his staff, fully intending to march into the Headmage's office and use the full weight of legal and physical force to strip Crowley of his title and his freedom.

Yuu, seeing the sheer, unyielding wrath of the old professor, threw themselves in front of the door. They looked up at him, begging him to stay, arguing that if he got suspended for attacking Crowley, they would lose the only teacher who actually took their education seriously, and that violence would only disrupt the school further.

Trein stared down at the child through his monocle, his breathing slow and measured. Lucius rubbed against Yuu’s leg, purring softly. With a deep, heavy sigh, Trein lowered his staff. He would spare Crowley the physical thrashing, but the educational and physical neglect would end immediately. Trein took it upon himself to become Yuu's official academic and physical guardian within the school. He arranged for private, manageable tutoring sessions, ordered specialized, easily digestible meals from the faculty lounge to be delivered to Ramshackle daily, and made it explicitly clear to the rest of the staff that Yuu was under his personal protection.

Ashton Vargas

Ashton Vargas took physical fitness and nutrition more seriously than anyone else on campus. He had noticed Yuu lagging during the standard physical training laps, but he had initially chalked it up to their lack of magic. However, during a mandatory body-composition and weight check for the sports curriculum, the scale gave a number that made Vargas wipe his eyes in disbelief. He adjusted the machine, checked the calibration, and ran the numbers again. The muscle mass, bone density, and overall height parameters were completely impossible for a sixteen-year-old child. He looked down at Yuu, his usual booming voice dropping to a rare, serious whisper. "Hey, kid... how old are you really? Don't lie to your coach." When Yuu admitted they were only twelve, Vargas’s jaw dropped.

The realization turned his usual enthusiastic energy into a terrifying, muscle-bound fury. A child. A tiny, twelve-year-old kid was being forced to run errands for a school full of dangerous mages, living on nothing but canned scraps in a moldy building while Crowley pocketed the school's budget. Vargas’s veins bulged in his neck, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles popped like fireworks. He let out a roar of absolute outrage, swearing on his muscles that he was going to throw Crowley over the school roof, drag him through the forest, and use him as a human punching bag until he paid for every single missed meal the kid had suffered.

Yuu, panicked by the sheer physical intimidation of an enraged Vargas, jumped forward and hugged his massive arm, using all their weight to hold him back. They screamed that breaking the Headmage’s ribs wouldn't magically put meat on their bones, and that fighting never solved the root of the problem.

Vargas stopped, looking down at the tiny kid hanging off his bicep like a small monkey. His furious expression softened into a look of deep, protective guilt. He let out a long breath, deflating slightly. He wouldn't punch Crowley into orbit—for now—but Yuu’s physical training was officially canceled, replaced by a rigorous, high-calorie rehabilitation program. Vargas personally took over Yuu's nutrition, supplying them with massive amounts of protein shakes, fresh eggs, and meat from his private reserves. He swore an oath that from that day on, anyone who tried to make Yuu do heavy manual labor would have to answer to his fists first.

Sam

Sam was always smiling, always ready to make a deal, and always aware of what his "friends on the other side" were whispering. But one afternoon, while Yuu was browsing the Mystery Shop for cheap, discounted rations, Sam’s shadow suddenly detached itself from the wall. The shadow hovered over Yuu, whispering back to Sam with a sudden, frantic urgency. Sam’s eyes widened behind his top hat as he listened to the spirits. They weren't sensing the aura of a teenager; they were sensing the fragile, underdeveloped soul of a child who hadn't even hit their growth spurt. Sam walked out from behind the counter, kneeling down to look Yuu directly in the eyes. "Little imp... tell me the truth. How many years have you actually been under the sun?" When Yuu murmured "twelve," Sam’s signature grin vanished completely.

The cheerful, chaotic atmosphere of the Mystery Shop evaporated, replaced by a suffocating, shadowy darkness. The temperature dropped, and the items on the shelves began to rattle as Sam’s magical aura flared with a dangerous, ancient power. Sam loved profit, but he had a strict moral code: you never, ever exploit a child. Crowley had been using a literal baby as a pawn, letting them starve while withholding the basic necessities of life. Sam’s purple eyes glowed in the dim light, his voice dropping into a menacing, low register as he muttered about letting his "friends" drag Crowley into the shadow realm where he would spend eternity paying for his debts in blood.

Yuu, terrified by the supernatural manifestations shaking the shop, grabbed Sam’s coat sleeve and shook their head. They begged him to call off the shadows, pointing out that sending Crowley to the underworld wouldn't fill the shop shelves or help them get home, and that dark magic and revenge only made things worse.

Sam looked at the child’s small, pleading face, the shadows around him slowly retreating back into the corners of the room. He took a deep breath, adjusting his top hat, and his gentle smile returned—though his eyes remained fiercely serious. He wouldn't send Crowley to the abyss, but the Headmage was going to pay through the nose. Sam immediately banned Yuu from ever paying for anything in his shop again. He set up a permanent, unlimited tab for them, stocking a special back-room filled with the best fresh groceries, vitamins, and comfort foods just for Yuu. He made it clear to the entire student body that Yuu was the Mystery Shop's official "little sibling," and anyone who brought trouble to the kid would find themselves completely hexed by every spirit in the valley.

a/n: ngl i kinda dont fw how i wrote ts brah. This was also written DAYS ago but writing on mobile is not for the weak💔

Do not steal/copy my ideas/writings, inspiration is okay but please credit me for all that's good. DO NOT use my writings to train ai or put in anything that has anything to remotely do with ai