Tumgik
#twst x reader oneshots
yandere-daydreams · 2 months
Text
Title: Dragon On The Tower Roof.
Pairing: Yandere!Malleus x Reader (TWST).
Word Count: 4.2k.
TW: Fantasy AU, Mentions of Blood/Bruising, Mentions of Injury to Reader, Implied (Consensual) Sex, Possessive Behavior, and Manipulation.
Tumblr media
Malleus met you at the base of his tower.
With a single movement of his wings, he descended from his perch and landed in front of you – placing himself between you and the stone behemoth. Had you been a more imposing figure, a knight or a prince or the general of some distant army, he would’ve cut you down the moment you entered his valley, but your only armor was a thin rucksack tunic and your only weapon was a rusted sword – the tip of its chipped blade currently planted in the ground as you struggled to keep yourself on your feet. He could smell blood on you, although he couldn’t be sure if its source was the jagged, poorly bandaged wound on your calf or the dark stains painting your humble clothes. You were clearly not a knight, much less a prince, and if you were a general, your army had abandoned you long ago. Altogether, you were not the most intimidating nuisance he had ever had to dismiss. He might’ve been grateful, had you not been a nuisance at all.
In the past, his visage alone had been enough to make even the bravest adventure abandon their quest, but your weary eyes only glazed over his black-scaled wings, his spiraling horns, the slit pupils of his unnaturally green eyes. You acknowledged him with a slight nod, putting more of your weight on your makeshift aid. “I believe I’m here to slay you, dragon.”
His greeting, likewise, came in the form of a bowed head, a narrowed gaze. “And to rescue the prince, I assume.”
You shrugged, the gesture alone threatening to cost you your balance. “I’m sure they’d prefer if I didn’t. I think they’ve got someone else for that – a lord, or maybe a king. Someone more befitting than a filthy criminal, surely.”
At that, Malleus felt the ghost of a smile tug at the corner of his lips. Novelty was rare, this far into his everlasting life, and he could not say he’d ever had a prisoner sent after his head. “What sort of crime gets you sent to the lair of a monster?”
You brightened at the question. “Thievery,” you answered, pride overshadowing your exhaustion. “I could either face you or let them cut off my hands and, well, I find those to be quite essential to my burgeoning career.”
This time, you earned an airy laugh, a reflexive flick of his tail. He took another moment to evaluate you before speaking. “You are tired, thief.”
It wasn’t a question, but you answered regardless. “It was a long journey. You aren’t an easy monster to reach.”
“And injured, presumably by the fangs of some great beast of legend.”
“Right again.” You paused, then added, “If there are any legends about wolves, I mean.”
“And hungry.” Your smile fell. When you failed to respond, he went on. “May I invite you to share a meal with me before our battle?”
He watched as you swallowed, as you straightened. Your sword was pulled from the ground and allowed to hang limply at your side as you stared up at him with such a hopeful expression – his heart, had it not been so terribly calloused, might’ve broken at the sight alone. “Well,” you started, your humor gone in exchange for pure, unabashed desperation. “I suppose I can’t refuse such a kindly offered invitation.”
With no further conversation, he stepped to the side, raising his staff to the tower. After only a moment, the endless cobblestone pulled away to reveal a simple, wooded door – already open and awaiting his entry. Smiling, he motioned for you to follow him, and without protest, you obeyed.
~
You ate, to put it politely, like a starving animal.
There’d been an attempt at decency when you first sat down at the opposing head of his banquet table, a gallant effort to make use of the flatware arranged into neat, never-ending lines on either side of your plate, but what little energy you had for such pleasantries was depleted quickly as your attention was dedicated entirely to the whims of your empty stomach. Countless other dishes decorated the table – ranging from fine delicacies fit for the pallets of kings to common staples even the lowest of peasantry would’ve been familiar with, but Malleus was content to nurse a goblet of dark, herbed wine as he watched you bask in the feast.
Only after you’d gotten your fill did you seem to remember that you had company, your expression taking on a sheepish note. “This is what they brought me to trial for. Trespassing, I mean,” you began, and Malleus hummed in acknowledgement. “It was a baron’s manor – not quite a castle, but close to it. I heard he had the most beautiful gardens on this continent, and at the time, it seemed unreasonable to have to wait for an invitation just to take a look.”
“I thought you were a thief?”
“You must have the wrong person. I’ve been many things, but never a thief.” You leaned back in your chair. “I’m afraid I’ve always been too tender-hearted for that kind of thing. I could never stand to insult my hosts.”
“Such a considerate guest I have,” he said, cocking his head to the side. “I suppose I won’t have to worry about being robbed blind if I let you stay the night, then.”
You shook your head, feigning ego. “I would never, dear dragon. Your reclusive prince, on the other hand—”
Whatever you might’ve gone on to say was swiftly replaced with a sudden gasp as every torch within sight burst into a pillar of vicious emerald flame, casting the dining room in a blinding, sickly green before dying out just as abruptly as it’d erupted. Malleus let out an exasperated breath, bringing a hand to his temples. “My apologies. My patience has grown—” He cast a wayward glance toward the ash now seared into the stone walls, the ceiling. “—thin, over my time here.”
You allowed a beat to pass by in silence, then another. “Your prince,” you said, finally. “Is he important to you?”
“I can think of nothing I value more.” The answer came easily, even if the intensity of his sentiment surprised him. “An old friend asked me to ensure his safety. I’ve performed my role dutifully ever since.” The taste of blood rose into the back of his throat, but he drowned it out with another long sip from his goblet. “They used to send entire armies to reclaim him, then lone knights, then the occasional adventurer. You might be the first human to come seeking my head in two or three decades.”
Your smile took on a shy lilt, your eyes drifting to the table. “I wasn’t really supposed to come after you, either. Most people just take it as an exile, but they gave me a sword, and…” It was your turn to laugh, now, to be surprised with yourself. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go. I thought, even if I don’t get to rescue any princes, it could be nice to see how much of the fairy tale is true.”
“And you’re satisfied with what you’ve found?”
“Not entirely,” you admitted. “But I’m glad I met you, dear dragon.”
After some hesitation, he pushed himself to his feet and closed the distance between you. You stiffened, your gaze flitting blatantly toward the sole exit, but you didn’t attempt to flee as he pulled the closest seat in front of you and fell into it. “May I see your leg?”
You were far more than reluctant, but complied. The material of your travel weary trousers was pulled above your knee, the strips of fabric you’d attempted to fashion into bandages cut away with his own pitch-black talons. The wound was worse than he’d assumed, more severe than he assumed. Ragged skin stretched from your knee to your ankle, harsh puncture marks littering what little flesh was still in-tact. The stress of your journey had prevented the brunt of the damage from healing, and even without the use of his advanced senses, he would’ve been able to feel the heat radiating off of your skin, the first signs of infection beginning to set in. You were lucky you’d made it to his tower before the fever spread. His territory was cruel to the most resilient of creatures, and you seemed far from resilient.
“I have a salve in my collection that should aid in your recovery. That, paired with a few days of bed rest, should have you on your feet again in a week’s time.” Not a lie, but not far from one, either. He’d mended worse with a snap of his fingers, but there was no reason you should have to be burdened with such knowledge. “If you can find it within yourself to share a roof with a monster and delay our duel yet again, I can provide room and board while you recover.”
Your laugh was bright and strained. “You’re terribly kind to someone who came here to take your life.”
“And you’re very trusting of a creature who could easily end yours.” He let his pointed claws scrape over your bare skin, prolonging his evaluation. “Think of it as a show of my gratitude. My time here is well-spent, but tends to pass slowly. Visitors, whether benevolent or malicious, help to color my days.”
“Then I will have to be the most colorful visitor you’ve ever had,” you chimed, your grin renewed with fresh vigor. Clearly, you were not the type of mortal who could go long without a task. “I’ll make you wait on me hand and foot and bend to my every whim, until the thought of encountering another human being makes you sick. When I’m done, there might even be a dragon in this tower worth slaying.”
His only response was a steady nod, a low hum. He stood and, in the same motion, hooked one arm under the bend of your knees and another around your waist, lifting you into the air before you had the chance to so much as think to pull away. Instinctually, you attempted to re-balance yourself against him, and Malleus couldn’t help himself – laughing as he pulled you to his chest. “If I am to dote on you to the point of sickness, then let me start now. You’re in no state to walk on your own.”
You opened your mouth as if to complain, but anything you might’ve said was deemed too unimportant to warrant the effort. Your smile softened, your eyes falling shut as you rested your head against his shoulder. You lingered there, quiet and content, as he carried you through the halls of what would come to be your home.
~
Your prescribed period of bed rest came and went. Your bruises healed, then your leg (although you still tended to limp during particularly heavy rainstorms), and your exhaustion was replaced by a buzzing sort of restlessness. He never asked you to leave, and after some time, you seemed to stop expecting him to. You spoke rarely of your past (aside from the ever-changing series of events that led you to his tower, of course) and never of your future. When Malleus was in one of his more indulgent moods, he allowed himself to believe that, when he did catch you looking in his direction with such a glimmering worry in your eyes, you weren’t afraid of him, but of the possibility that he might send you away.
Despite your claims of spoiled houseguests and encumbered hosts, he was only driven to near-madness once while sharing your company. It’d been shortly after you instated yourself as a resident of his tower, rather than a fleeting visitor, and took to exploring your new dwelling without reservation. It’d been his own fault, really. He’d forgotten to warn you away from the upper wing, to resketch the protective runes he’d long-since allowed to fade, but such rationality had escaped him as he stood in the doorway, his mind empty and his eyes trained on your kneeling figure. He watched, paralyzed, as you raised a hand, reaching towards the marble slab, and then he was behind you – the points of his talons grazing the skin of your throat before he managed to restrain himself, curling his fist around the collar of your shirt, instead. Without warning, he hauled you off your feet, ignoring the half-choked shriek you let out in response.
His eyes fell to Silver, searching for any signs of harm, of disruption. Of course, Silver was unchanged. His colorless hair remained fanned over his velvet-cushioned pillow, the silk sheets and hand-stitched quilts still folded neatly at the foot of his bed – waiting to be put to use when the weather turned in autumn. Malleus took a moment to observe the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the gentle movement behind his closed eyes, before letting out a breath of relief and turning to you. “I don’t recall giving you permission to enter this chamber.”
“Sorry, I— I was just looking around, and I saw the flowers on the door—” Silver’s own craftsmanship, preserved from the ravages of time by Malleus’ spell work. He’d painted them as soon as he was old enough to hold a brush, along with matching murals on his bedroom walls that hadn’t survived the passing ages. “—I got curious, that’s all. Is this the prince I was sent after?”
Malleus set his jaw, straightening his hunched posture. “…it is,” he answered, eventually. He let go of your collar and let you stumble onto your feet. “His name is Silver. I never knew him by any titles.”
Malleus’ gaze shifted to you, but your eyes remained fixed on Silver. “He’s beautiful.”
Despite himself, he felt the edge of his lips turn downward. He rested a hand on your shoulder, and you seemed to recover from your daze, turning to face him with a hopeful smile. “Do you know when he’s going to wake up?”
Malleus felt a coil of heat form in the back of the throat. The taste of ash laid heavy over his tongue, but he swallowed back his guilt and forced himself to respond. “In another hundred years, perhaps,” he mused, his tone melodic and detached. “There’s no known cure for a curse like his.”
A phantom of disappointment flickered across your expression, but it was suppressed quickly. Rather, you turned your attention outward – to the heavy, woven curtains draped over each crystalline window. “Will you help me let in some light? I hate to insult your taste, but it’s terribly depressing in here, and—” You brightened, taking him by the sleeve and tugging gingerly. “We don’t want his highness to have any nightmares, do we?”
With some reluctance, Malleus nodded. “Light, but nothing else.” When you failed to acknowledge him, he caught you by the wrist, squeezing with just enough pressure for your smile to falter. “Light, but nothing else. Do you understand?”
Your eyes darted back to Silver, but only for a moment. He was thankful for that – for your restraint. A second longer, and his true nature might’ve overshadowed his better judgement. “Of course, dear dragon. Nothing else.”
He inhaled sharply, then let go of you altogether.
It was a choice that, in the approaching months, he would only come to regret.
~
“This is what they banished me for, you know.”
“This?”
“Yes, this exactly.” You propped your chin on his chest, positioning yourself to more easily card your fingers through his hair. He let his eyes fall shut, basking in the warmth of your affection, of your bare skin pressed into his. Your clothes laid discarded on the grass around you, one of his wings bent and raised to shield you from the harsh light of the setting sun. He would have to get you back to the tower, soon. He’d always been indifferent to the deadly chill of night, but you – in your precious, delicate mortality – were not so durable. “Actually, not quite – I don’t think I ever made it to this part. It was the first time I’d ever attended a royal ball, and I happened to dance with a young lady so breath-taking, I couldn’t help but drop to one knee and dedicate my heart to her the moment our hands touched.” You sighed, feigning remorse. “Little did I know that she was the princess that ball was being thrown for, and so moved by my passion, she refused to let me out of her embrace until I agreed to marry her. Of course, her father – the king, as the fathers of princesses tend to be – couldn’t have that. It’s a shame, really. We would’ve made a gorgeous couple.”
Malleus pursed his lips, fighting back a smile. “And what does that make me? The next scorned lover of a silver-tongued rouge?”
“Oh, no. If you asked me to marry you,” You propped yourself up, pressing a kiss into the curve of his jaw. “There’d be nothing in the world that could stop me, dear dragon.”
Your hand fell to his cheek, and wistfully, you lulled him into a kiss – shallow but lingering, punctuated with a playful nip at his bottom lip. You pulled back with a smile, another quick peck to his cheek. You moved to say something, but he interrupted you, as mournful as he was to cut off such a precious moment so callously. “I found your wildflowers.”
Immediately, your expression fell. “I made sure not to—”
“I know, beloved, I know.” You knew better than to lay a hand on Silver. Your small bouquet had been left on the corner of his bed, another additional chain of asters and lavender braided into one of the longer strands of his waist-length hair. As much as he wished he could say he was only concerned for Silver’s well-being, it wouldn’t have been the truth. Something else, something darker, had accompanied the discovery – something it would be better for you to stay ignorant of. “We’ve talked about this. Silver is vulnerable, in his current condition. Even the simplest luxury is an unspeakable risk.”
Your shoulders dropped, your body going slack against his. You bowed your head, burying your face in the dip of his shoulder, and despite his frustration with you, he didn’t push you away. “I’m sorry. It just feels so cruel to let him suffer alone.”
“He’s never been alone.” His tone was more curt than he’d meant it to be. “He’s always had me.”
“I know, but—” He expected you to raise your hair, to flash him that brilliant grin. Instead, you only settled against him, speaking softly into the crook of his neck. “He just seems so sad.”
Malleus took a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut.
Then, before he could let himself think better of it, he wrapped an arm around your waist. In one fluid motion, he turned you over – leaving you on your back, one of his knees planted on either side of your waist, your form tucked safely underneath his. His kiss was less gentle than your own – that deep, aching sort of hunger overwhelming his cautiousness as his tongue raked over yours, as he groaned unabashedly into your mouth. You returned his affection emphatically; your fingers soon knotted in his hair, your eager touch preventing so much as the thought of distance between your body and his. Because there never would be distance between you and him. Because there was no reason you should ever have to be taken away from him.
Hours later, when the last traces of light had faded and the stars were painted in swirling patterns across the sky, he would carry you back to his tower – unconscious and pliable in his arms. That would be the first night you spent in his bed, and as he laid there with you, he couldn’t help but imagine how wonderful it would be if you never left.
~
The runes carved into Silver’s door were redrawn, Malleus’ enchantments refreshed, and your bittersweet sympathy slowly rotted into a distinctly bland melancholy. You didn’t speak of him (Malleus could only wonder how you ever managed to speak of anyone when so many of his marks so often decorated your skin), but he noticed new scratches around the well-rusted lock on Silver’s door, caught you braiding chains of daisies and crowns of marigolds with no intended recipient in mind, and at night, you tended to slip out of his hold and wander. Sometimes, he waited for you, lying awake as you hunted for whatever solace there was to find in the empty halls of an ancient tower. Most nights, tonight, he chased after you.
He found you in a window near the tower’s highest room, laid across the wooden sill, your back propped against the empty frame. He didn’t ask to join you – wordlessly lowering himself to the floor at your feet. As if by reflex, your hand fell to his horns, your thumb tracing over a particular ridge near the base as you broke the quiet. “Have ever told you why I’m here, dear dragon?”
Countless times, but he still played along. “Who has my heart been stolen by today, beloved?”
“A murderer,” you said, hollowly. “And not a particularly clever one, at that.”
He waited for you to go on, to spin some elaborate tale of love and loss and betrayal and poor humor, but you only lapsed back into silence, your gaze turning back to the pitch-black valley. He watched your vacant expression for a moment, then another before letting his eyes fall shut and resting his cheek against your thigh.
~
Malleus had expected there to be more anger than this.
You were in a similar position to one you’d taken the first time you stumbled into Silver’s chambers – kneeling beside his marble bed, your ever-weary eyes fixed on the unknowing object of your adoration. The only difference was that, today, Silver’s hand was raised to your lips, now slightly parted in shock. He didn’t have to guess at the source of your astonishment. In front of you, Silver was sitting up. His posture was unsteady, his eyes barely open, but the obvious was undeniable.
He was awake.
To think, there was something of merit to Lilia’s stories of true love after all.
Rather than anger, rage, pure and undiluted fury, an odd sort of calm settled over his blank mind as you snapped in his direction. Your astonishment turned to horror in an instant. “Malleus, I didn’t— I was only trying to—”
He put you out of your mercy quickly. He raised his staff and, propelled by some unseen force, you were torn away from Silver’s bedside and thrown against the nearest walls – the force of the collision far from fatal, but enough to leave you limp and unconscious. With your safety ensured, he stepped forward, approaching Silver. He was awake, but only just. So many decades of uninterrupted sleep would not be so willing to release him from their taloned clutches without a struggle, and there was a certain dream-like lull to the way his eyes skirted over the limited scenery before settling on Malleus, his features immediately softening in relief. “Malleus?”
“I’m here.” Malleus allowed himself a small smile before bringing the end of his staff to Silver’s forehead. “You can rest, brother.”
There was just enough time for the edges of Silver’s lips to turn downward before he collapsed back onto the marble slab. Malleus would arrange him later on. For now, his attention turned to you.
He gathered your crumpled form in his arms and carried you through the halls of his lonely tower, before stepping into the clear air and fresh heat of the valley. He laid you in the tall grass and, after taking a moment to appreciate your peaceful expression, brought a hand to your face, cupping your cheek tenderly. The spell came to him instinctually, but he took his time, mourning the loss of your time together with each mumbled word. That was a silver-lining of immortality, though. Infinite time allowed for infinite repetition, and he couldn’t imagine giving up the opportunity to fall in love with you again.
When he was done, your eyes fluttered open, a smile quickly finding its way to your lips. “Hello, dragon.” You gazed darted to either side nervously, your mind struggling to catch up with your clever tongue. “I would love to introduce myself, but it’s the funniest thing – I can’t seem to remember what I’m doing here.”
He bit back a smile. You tried to force yourself into a more dignified position, but barely managed to get an arm underneath you before pausing, wincing, reaching for the back of your head and coming away with blood smeared across your fingertips. Malleus did what he could to hide his delight.
“You’re a thief. You injured yourself attempting to scale my tower. It was an impressive effort, but tragically unnecessary.”
This time, he couldn’t hide the wide, simpering grin that came to rest across his lips.
“I was always going to invite you inside.”
1K notes · View notes
munv · 9 months
Text
JUS’ THE TIP BABY, PROMISE?
Tumblr media
“Just the tip” is what he promised hours ago, hell, it’s not like you can tell since you’re too fucked out to count. He’s grabbing your hips so harshly and you’re sure it’s going to bruise in the morning. “You’re gonna cum f’me as many times as I want right baby? — fuck!” Squeezin so tight, it-“ He cuts off with a slight snarl.
“It’s almost as if you’re a virgin again. You gonna let me cum as many times as I want, yeah?” Snapping his hips right back into yours and if only you could see the pussy drunk look on his face.
It doesn’t matter if you’re quivering and shaking, no. He’s holding you down and spilling his seed into you as many times you can take.
Tumblr media
TOJI fushiguro . LEONA kingscholar . roronoa ZORO . Eustass KID . CHOUBEI aza . HAGANEZUKA hotaru . RINDOU hitanai . ARATAKI ITTO .
4K notes · View notes
snugglebug-mj-blog · 21 days
Text
hugging them for the first time pt1
The first years (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek, and Ortho)
Y/n has been at NRC for a while and she's never hugged anyone (besides grim) until today. Y/n took in a deep breath before walking out the door of the ramshackle dorm with grim on her shoulder. {ps y/n is pudgy since thats what i am)
Ace Trappola: Ace is the first person y/n saw this morning “hey y/n what's with that face?” Ace teased as she got closer before he could say anything else y/n wrapped her arms around his torso his face slowly turned red as he stood there shocked he wasn't expecting a hug he expected a punch to the shoulder like they do every morning before walking together to find the rest of the group. As quick as he became shocked is as quick it turned to cocky. “Oh couldn't keep your hands to yourself” he teased as he hugged her back before she huffed and pushed him away making him laugh before walking away. “Wait no come back!” he laughed as he followed behind her.
Deuce Spade: Deuce was running a bit late this morning but he soon caught up with y/n, grim and ace. “Sorry i’m late-” Deuce was cut off by y/n hugging him. He stood there frozen for a good minute before he hugged her and held her gently as if she was made of glass. “Deuce why you making such a ugly face man” ace and grim laughed making Deuce snap out of the wonderful moment “oi shove off!” he yelled at them while covering y/n's ears. Ace and grim looked at each other before they started mocking deuce, which ended in deuce gently pulling away from y/n, and charging after the two. Y/n just smiled, and shock her head before walking towards class and on the way maybe find her next huggable victim.
Jack Howl: Now since Jack is a beast man his senses are higher so sneaking up on him would be a little bit hard but not impossible, (but that's not going to happen this time) Jack was standing in the normal meeting spot near the fountain and his ears perked up when he heard grim and aces screams. He watched unamused as Ace, grim and deuce ran past him. Y/n stood beside jack as they watched ace and grim avoid a angry deuce, “‘sigh’ a normal monday'' Jack sighed looking down at y/n only to see her smiling up at him before hugging him, Jacks tail started wagging very quickly it looked like it could make a tiny tornado. Y/n could see Jack's face was very red “what is this for?” Jack asked, trying to act serious y/n shrugged and let go of him, which he patted her head gently in return before they went to follow the troublemakers.
Epel Felmier: He will try to fight because he doesn't want to be seen as cute, Epel meet the four near the cafeteria y/n walked up to him first and hugged him from behind making freeze up and raise his fist before looking over to see y/n hugging him “you all right?” was his first question, He liked the hug but he thought something was wrong. “Nothing wrong, i just wanted a hug” y/n said letting him go he turned around before hugging her back. Y/n smiled and hugged him again before epel dragged her into the cafeteria since everyone else already went in.
Sebek Zigvolt: We all know Sebek he yells (his words he just talks loudly) but now he is silent. Sebek was waiting outside Treins classroom for his friends he rarely eats breakfast with them; he wants to be near mallues at all times, from the corner of his eye he saw all six walking up to him. “ABOUT TIME YOU SHOWED-” sebek stopped mid shout and froze as he felt y/n hug him, everyone was ready for him to start shouting louder. Sebek slowly looked down at his friend before he brought his left hand up to the back of her head and patted it “ let's get to class” he said normally everyone looked at him in shock making him gently push y/n away before he walked into the classroom. Everyone slowly followed in after him y/n was worried she broke him because he was silent the entire lesson. “Sebek i’m sorry-” y/n started as she chased after sebek after class before he turned to look at her “ you did nothing wrong it felt nice thank you” he bowed everyone was still shocked at this and grim smirked “ aww look sebek is a softie” grim teased making sebek shot back up “THIS SOFTIE WILL END YOU!” sebek yelled with a red face, everyone covered their ears but laughed he was back to his normal self at least.
Ortho Shroud: HUG!THIS!BOY! (i wanna hug him! And squeeze him!) Ortho was excitedly looking for his friends “Ortho!!” y/n shouted as she ran towards her little robot friend, Ortho turned when he heard his name only to be wrapped into a warm hug, making him squeal as she swung him around as she held him in a tight hug. He loved hugs from people he cared for. “y/n! Your hugs are very warm, you should hug my brother too!” the boy happily stated
492 notes · View notes
dilatorywriting · 1 year
Text
Valentine's Day Special: Let Them Fight
GN!Reader x Malleus Draconia vs. Azul Ashengrotto vs. Vil Schoenheit Word Count: 5.3k
Summary: Who knew that in a world of magic, and mayhem, and outright villainy, that it'd be something as stupid as Valentine's Day that would push these idiots over the edge. Or, Malleus, Azul, and Vil go to war over some chocolates
A/N: This MC/Plot takes place in the Heroes vs Villains universe -- specifically Post-Staff's route, rather than any of our other lovely idiot husbands.
Tumblr media
There was always some sort of strange overlap of customs from your world to this one. Halloween seemed to have survived more or less intact (even if it was a bit more, uh, extreme than the subtle evening of giving out treats and dressing as ghosts that you remembered). Winter Holidays were still very much a Thing, even if all other connotations had been stripped from them. Moreover, it was like someone had taken your familiar Earthen calendar and just sort of… mirrored it. Distorted it a bit. Just a lil’ bit more chaos than would have been socially acceptable back home.
So when you made a sly little joke about stocking up on discount chocolates after the Valentine’s Day rush and no one laughed—not even a little chortle, or an irritable eyeroll—you initially thought it was maybe to do with the irrationality of Sam’s Shop ever having a sale to begin with. You had not assumed that, you know, there was no Valentine’s Day at all.
“It’s an important holiday, then? Where you’re from?” Azul mused, busy scribbling endless, chicken scratch, notes in the margins of some form that was probably very important.
“I mean, not really,” you frowned, tossing your Mostro-Branded apron onto its hook. “Maybe. Yes? I don’t really know, actually.”
He hummed and moved to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Well, whatever it is, I’m always looking for new events to host at the Lounge. What exactly is it?”
“It’s a sort of special day for couples. Romance. Lovey-dovey nonsense,” you shrugged, and watched Azul’s finger slip off the slick metal frame of his glasses and nearly take his eye out. You waved off his obvious disgust with a dramatic sigh (I mean, why else would he be so stiff and red?). “Yeah, yeah. I know. It’s ridiculous.”
“I—I never said that!” he spluttered, and then paused to cough into his fist and clear his throat. “It just—I just wasn’t expecting something like that to…”
“Exist?”
He grinned, wry. His cheeks were still a bit too pink. “Precisely.”
“You would have loved my world,” you said. “Very capitalistic. Lots of cash-grab holidays like that.”
Azul laughed.
“I’m sure I would be fond of any place you came from.” He paused, and his expression puckered up a bit miserably—like he really hadn’t intended to express such a sentiment aloud. But he managed to smooth the sharp line of his frown back into that usual, smarmy, smirk of his easily enough. “But either way! Tell me more!” he grinned, reaching forward to grab a stack of blank paper and a fresh pen. “I’d love to hear all about it.”
.
.
The next day you were supposed to help the Drama Club start building some stage scenery for their newest play. It was proper grunt work, which was perhaps the only sort of work you were actually qualified for. And Vil always made sure that there were plenty of disgustingly healthy but still quite tasty snacks available for the help to munch on. The food spread alone would have been worth the trip, but on top of that, Vil had made you promise. Practically a blood oath, binding you and your meager free time to the shitty supply closet in the corner of the Auditorium. And as sour as he could be sometimes, you really could never say no to him when he always looked so heart meltingly fond whenever you did agree to while away the hours at his side. That lovely face and even lovelier smile of his were fucking lethal. A war crime, surely, to use it against someone as plain and susceptible to bribery as you were.
But today you were now an idiot on a mission—an idiot determined to spread the joy of a trashy holiday that really probably shouldn’t exist in the first place, let alone in a world where people worshipped storybook villains as veritable deities. And you’d already bought all the molds, and the trays, and you really didn’t have a lot of spare pocket money to begin with, so letting this investment go to waste would not only be a shame, but a terrible business investment.
“What do you mean you’re not coming,” Vil sneered, glaring down his perfectly straight nose at you.
“I really am sorry,” you said, mostly genuine. “But I have something I need to do this afternoon.”
“You’ve made other plans?” he frowned, something a little too unsettled to fit with his usual regality twisting across his expression.
“I have to get ready for Valentine’s Day,” you explained, and his brow tugged down further. Though that earlier twinge of panic seemed to have vanished at least. You pointedly shook your grocery bag full of goodies. “I’m going to make chocolates for everyone.”
“Chocolates?” Vil echoed, confused.
You nodded. “It’s a tradition back home. You give stuff like candy and flowers to the people you care about. Normally it’s a holiday for couples, or whatever. But. Well…”
The ‘I Am Fully Aware That I’m Single as a Pringle, Please Just Let Me Have This One Thing’ was left unsaid, but it hung in the air around your head like a very persistent storm cloud nonetheless. Vil, magnanimously, seemed perfectly happy to ignore the Woe Is Me implications spewing from your mouth. Instead, he leaned forward until he was dipping precariously close into your personal space. His amethyst eyes had lit with blatant interest at your ramblings, and he hummed low in his throat.
“Is that so?” he mused, gaze lidded and warm. “That sounds… intriguing.”
You nodded past the heady scent of his cologne fogging your head. What was it with attractive people, huh? It was so unfair. You don’t get to look and smell good. Pick a lane. Save some dignity for the rest of us.
“So, I promise I’ll help another day. I just have a feeling making chocolates is going to wind up being a lot harder than I think it will.”
Because that’s how it always went in your stupid slice-of-life shows. The poor, harried, protagonist thinking they’re doing a good deed—painstakingly constructing their own, special, homemade goodies for all their important people. Making them with love. And then having it all blow up in their face like a goddamn, cocoa flavored, nuke. Nope. Not you, motherfucker. Your chocolates were going to be divine. You were going to take every, tropey, precaution in the book. And that of course included allotting yourself ample time to make mistakes your masterpiece.
“Of course,” Vil grinned. “How could I possibly begrudge you for wanting to spend your time on something so heartfelt?”
“Thank you,” you blurted, relived. Because at least he got it. Azul had been so ridiculously insistent that you should prepare all your Valentine’s Day wishes as a team. Which was not the point. He’d spent hours last night trying to wheedle his way into your plans—with endless platitudes about ‘business partners always being there for each other,’ and ‘how would he know if he was celebrating to your standards if he wasn’t given a model to work off of first?’ Utter bullshit. He’d probably just wanted free labor.
“Tomorrow, then?” Vil beamed and you nodded.
“Tomorrow,” you confirmed.
“Well, then,” he hummed. “I better get to work as well. I suppose the scenery can wait.”
You nodded in farewell and began the trek back to Ramshackle and its marginally functional kitchens. You hadn’t realized Vil was taking on any new projects, but if it was enough to have him putting off the Club’s activities as well then it must have been pretty important. Maybe he’d get you tickets to it whenever he finished—whatever it was. If there were tickets? How did any of the things he did actually work? Hell if you knew.
.
.
Making chocolates was, in fact, a laughably easy endeavor. And you found yourself cursing every goddamn Shoujo Bullshit Manga under the sun for leading you to think otherwise. The hardest part of the entire thing was fighting off Grim and his wandering paws.
You made up some basic truffles which were, again, stupidly simple. Just some messily chopped chocolate, cream, and a little splash of vanilla to make it Special. Once those were shaped into messy blobs, you dipped them into some more melted chocolate and bam. That was it. That was literally it. You felt like a genius—sitting there mushing up balls of cocoa like high-end playdough.
By 6PM, you had all your little darlings tucked into the refrigerator to harden, all the gauzy, red, boxes lined up on your counter and ready to be filled, and Grim had been placated with an offering of all your dirty mixing bowls. The tiny, demonic, beast was passed out at the dingy kitchen table—one of said bowls wedged onto his head like an astronaut’s helmet. Hopefully it was just a food coma and not, like, an actual coma-coma. Real cats couldn’t eat chocolate, but Grim never really seemed real at all. So hopefully he’d be fine.
You wiped down your cooking space once, twice. Paced up and down the narrow hallway until you were wearing away the already threadbare rugs, and spent way too long just standing in front of the fridge—staring in on your chocolates like a psychotic kidnapper scoping out their next victims.
Eventually you realized that you maybe needed to do something with your evening that wasn’t just creeping on your confections, and set out into the frosty, night, air for a stroll.
Which is, of course, where you ran into your familiar, horned, friend—staring up into the starry sky in a wistful manner that darkened his pale complexion into something nearly ominous. He always looked a bit like that, like something unearthly and detached from the rest of the world.
“Tsunotarou!” you chirped happily, and that adrift-at-sea expression of his melted right off his face.
“Child of Man,” he greeted, inclining his head politely. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this evening.” His brow furrowed, almost confused. “Is it not too cold for you?”
Your breath was, in fact, fogging in front of your face. And you couldn’t really feel your toes anymore. But the electric anticipation of tomorrow was keeping you warm enough. Even if only in spirit.
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you waved him off. And then, because you couldn’t help yourself, you leaned forward on your tippytoes and blurted out, “Happy Almost Valentine’s Day!”
“Valentine’s Day?” Malleus repeated back at you, looking like you’d just handed him an unsolvable differential equation.
“It’s a holiday from back home,” you explained for the umpteenth time that day. “And normally I’m not too fussed about it, but this year I’m really excited to give everyone their chocolates!” You grinned. “And you too, of course. I have to make sure I give them to all my important people.”
The furrow between his brows vanished, but the blatant, gaping, confusion remained. He looked like you’d nearly startled him into an early grave.
“I am one of your most important people?” he asked, slow as a tortoise making its way up an incline.
You nodded cheerfully, still bellied by your earlier culinary successes and excellent mood. “Of course you are! We’re friends, aren’t we? And besides. Valentine’s Day is for showing people how much you care about them.”
“What an interesting concept,” he mused, bringing a finger up to tap at his chin. “To think your world had such a heartfelt tradition—it’s quite a lovely surprise.”
You laughed. “If you think the chocolates are special, you should see what some couples do for each other. Rooms full of flowers, fancy date nights—I’m just managing the bare minimum.”
“Couples?” he echoed, and you felt the first teeny, hot, thread of chagrin work its way past your enthusiasm.
“Well, normally Valentine’s Day focuses on, like, romantic things,” you said, averting your gaze just in time to miss the tension lance through his shoulders. “But it can be for all sorts of affection!” you hastily added.
“Is that so…” the Prince hummed. He lifted his pensive gaze once more and stared you down with that weighted intensity that you’d only just recently learned how not to buckle beneath. “And you wish to celebrate this day. With me?”
“…you don’t mind, do you?” you asked, hesitant.
“Of course not, Child of Man,” he beamed, his lips curling up into a smile that put all his too-sharp teeth on display. “But you’ll have to excuse me now, I’m afraid. It seems I have some preparations to undertake this evening.”
“Oh,” you blinked. “Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Yes,” Malleus said. “You will.”
.
.
It was officially Valentine’s Day, and you were ready to begin your mission of forcing your sweets onto every, single, one of your reluctant friends. Let them be pissy and tsundere. You weren’t afraid to weep and proclaim your undying, shounen-talk-no-jutsu, levels of friendship. Okay. Maybe you were a little. But these grouchy bastards had very easily become your grouchy bastards, and so help you God, they would suffer under your affection and they would like it.
There were plenty of small boxes—all nice, neat, corners with little bows perched on top. But you had also prepared a singular, larger, tray. It was cleaner cut than the rest, with bold, contrasting, colors and a simple elegance. You stared it down with a strange sort of disquiet brewing in your gut. Maybe you were being presumptuous. Goodness knows you’d more than dealt with the searing, emotionally destructive, consequences of that before. But all the same…
You squared your shoulders and spent a moment convincing yourself that your spine was quite sturdy—a proper, titanium, support system—and then popped the Big Box into the bag with the others.
Your first stop was Heartslabyul, and you burst through the ornate, crimson, doors like a manic home invader.
“I come bearing gifts,” you proclaimed, merrily doling out the boxes to your favorite idiot duo. You set three more aside, with little labels for Riddle, Trey, and Cater respectively. Normally you wouldn’t trust a dorm full of teenage boys not to devour any scrap of unattended food in sight, but Riddle had long since struck the fear of God into these poor lads. So you figured it’d be safe.
Deuce’s face lit up and he accepted the chocolate with near starry-eyed enthusiasm.
“Are these your holiday presents? Like the Santa Claus?” he asked, looking very much like a bouncy golden retriever preparing itself for congratulatory head pats.
You leaned forward with an indulgent huff to give him his pats. “No. But close enough.”
You pawned off three boxes on Ruggie when he tried to duck past you in the hallway—one for him, one for Leona, and one extra as payment for making him do your dirty work of playing delivery boy to Mister Grump in the first place. You slipped Jack his on the way into Trein’s morning lecture, and managed to press a box into Jamil’s hands before he slunk off to the library. Kalim cheered so loudly when you handed him one that your ears started to ring.
And then trouble arrived in the form of two, slippery, eels draping themselves across your shoulders. Normally the destructive duo seemed to act on their own prerogative, but on this fortuitous morning their Lord and Master was surprisingly not too far behind.
“Shrimpy!~” Floyd trilled, dragging you into a one-armed hug that was really more of a slightly-less-aggressive headlock than anything else. “Azul says you came up with this stupid holiday! And he made us work all day yesterdayto put together stuff for the Lounge! It’s not fair!”
Your legs shook under the weight of the new tumor that had made its home on your back.
“Now, Floyd,” Jade chirped. All finely manicured cruelty. “If you’re to blame anyone for going overboard with this entire situation, you ought to lay the fault on our fearless leader.” His bi-colored eyes flashed, amused. “Isn’t that right, Azul?”
Said ‘fearless leader’ looked like he was sucking on a lemon. He glared bitterly at his subordinate, seeming to share an entire, silent, argument with him, before turning back on you with a heavy sigh and the barest hint of angry flush in his cheeks.
“Prefect,” he grinned past his obvious discomfort, all sparkling, white, teeth. “I have to thank you for sharing so much information about this ‘Valentine’s Day’ of yours. It’s such a unique event, and it seems like our preparations at the Lounge are already being received incredibly well.”
“That’s good,” you nodded, trying and failing to shrug the Leech off your shoulders. “I’m glad I could help.”
Azul hummed under his breath, his eyes darting away for a moment. His glasses reflected the muted light of the hall in an odd way—making it difficult to read his expression. He cleared his throat and when he looked back up at you, the tips of his ears had gone pink.
“You’re more than welcome to come by, of course,” he beamed, suave as could be.
“I mean,” you blinked. “I would hope so. I work there.”
Floyd let out a bark of laughter and Jade snickered into his glove. The pleasant pink tinting Azul’s skin was heating to a near sunburned red. He looked down and coughed into his fist.
“Yes…” he mumbled. “I—I’m aware. But what I meant is… What I meant—” He frowned. It was a tight, pouty, little thing that scrunched up his entire face. That mottled red had spread to the bridge of his nose.
“I do believe what Azul is trying to say,” Jade stepped in, clearly taking some sort of pity on his tongue-tied friend. Or perhaps pity was the wrong word for it, seeing how smug he looked, “is that he would like to invite you to the event personally. As an honored guest, not an employee.”
“Oh,” you blinked, startled. Then hesitated, cautious on instinct. There was always some sort of catch to the Octomer’s kindness. “I don’t know if I could afford whatever fancy thing you’ve thrown together.”
“You wouldn’t be paying for it,” Azul assured you, some of that sickly flush having finally started to recede from his cheeks. You hoped he was feeling alright. “You’ve contributed more than enough for the day. It would be on the house.”
Jade loudly cleared his throat and Azul huffed, eyes sliding away yet again.
“I would be paying,” he finally mumbled. And then, even quieter, “As I believe is the custom.”
Just as you were about to thank him for his startling bought of generosity (and also ask after his health, because between the weird, pink, tinge to his skin and the aforementioned generosity, clearly somethingwas out of sorts with him), you noticed a sneaky hand working its way into your bag of goodies, and you immediately were on the defensive.
“Hey!” you snapped, spinning out of Floyd’s stranglehold. “You only get one!”
“Then I want the really big one!” he demanded, making grabby motions at it.
“No!” you squeaked, and clutched it protectively to your chest. The trio looked at you with varying degrees of surprise and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “This one—This one is special.”
“Oh?” Jade cooed, eyes flickering back towards Azul, who seemed determined to look absolutely anywhere else. “Is it now?”
“Awww,” Floyd whined. “That’s no fair! Who’s it for, anyways?!”
You gripped the box tighter and now it was your turn to stiffly avert your eyes down to the ugly carpet. “It’s not—I’m not—” you cleared your throat and forced the jitter from your voice. “I’m not ready to give it to him yet.”
The silence that followed was absolutely the worst thing you’d experienced in a long, long, time. Overblots and all. You could practically hear your blood pounding in your ears. You were just about to turn and beat a hasty retreat when a familiar, snappish, voice called your name from the other side of the corridor.
“There you are, potato,” Vil huffed, coming to stand at your side and bodily inserting himself between you and your tormentors. He met Azul’s petulant sneer with a frankly terrifying one of his own. “What are you doing here? I thought we agreed you’d be eating lunch with me today.”
You remembered no such thing, but if it got you out of this verbal minefield of a conversation, you were more than willing to take the claim at face value.
“Apologies,” Azul cut in with all his usual, mafioso, flair. “But the Prefect will be taking their afternoon meal at the Mostro Lounge today.”
“Is that so?” Vil hummed, sounding positively venomous.
“Unless you think you can make an offer good enough to sway them otherwise,” Azul chirped, equally as unpleasant.
Vil laughed—cold and sharp as crystal. It was the most elegant display of blatant irritation you’d ever seen.
“Of course you’d only consider this entire situation on a transactional basis,” he drawled, entirely unimpressed. Azul flinched and his expression screwed up into something near petulant. “I would expect no less. Are you planning to lock them into a contact too, hmm? Sign away everything in formal, sterile, terms?” Vil crossed his arms, and you were reminded sharply once more how very, very lucky you were to not be on his bad side (even if you hadn’t realized before all this that Azul apparently was on said bad side. You had no idea they disliked each other so terribly). “I really hadn’t expected you to have a single, romantic, bone in your body, and yet somehow I’m still disappointed to be proved so entirely correct.”
Azul looked ready to explode, and even though Jade and Floyd and melted back into the shadows at the start of this entire encounter, the pair of them were starting to look a bit murderous too—like sharks lazily circling the dark, ocean, depths.  
“Don’t you think you deserve better?” Vil asserted, turning back to face you with a soft cant of the head. You blinked back in shock.
“Uh,” you gaped, absolutely fucking lost.
And then, like a beacon of unrivaled, black-drenched, hope, you spotted Malleus making his way down the hallway. He was flanked by his trio of housemates-cum-pseudo-bodyguards. Normally you tried to leave him alone when his rabid, green-haired, guard dog was yipping at his heels, and on top of that, the idea of using your classmates’ ingrained fear of the Fae Prince to your own advantage upset your rather staunch sensibilities. But this was an emergency.
“Tsunotarou!” you called, and it absolutely sounded like the cry for help it was.
He perked up immediately and you watched him nearly crash to a standstill. And then his sharp, neon, gaze locked on the dueling Housewardens circling you like a pair of snapping wolves, and his merry expression shuttered into something positively glacial. Which was—Fuck. I mean. Come on. What the fuck was going on today—
“Child of Man,” he droned, crossing the short distance with all the grace of the near-mythical, arcane, master that he was. His posture was more collected and regal than you’d ever seen it, and he loomed all the taller for it.
Azul and Vil had gone tense at your side, one certainly more so than other. The Octomer looked incredibly unsettled at Malleus’s sudden arrival, but Vil just looked angrier. It was the sort of unpleasantness that bloomed whenever someone challenged him or his competencies over and over—inevitably pushing the normally composed beauty into an indignant rage.
“Happy Day of Valentine’s,” Malleus continued, slotting himself firmly into the veritable territory dispute going down. “Are you quite alright?”
No, you wanted to wail. No! I’m so confused! I have no idea what’s going on! I just wanted to give my friends chocolates!
But you never managed to get those words or any others past your lips, because Sebek Zigvolt shot to his master’s side with all the speed of the lightning for which he was so named, and immediately began to scream.
“HOW DARE YOU INTERRUPT THE YOUNG MASTER’S AFTERNOON ROUTINE!” he shrieked at the top of his very impressive lungs.
You weren’t sure if he was howling at you (very likely) or just anyone who wasn’t Malleus, but Jade took the opportunity to slink forward from the shadows with a sharp tut-tut.
“Perhaps none of you deserve the Prefect’s special attentions,” he piped in, sounding very much like someone intentionally throwing a cannister of gasoline onto an already roaring fire. “Or any chocolates at all—let alone the ones set aside for someone special.”
At this, silence once more rang through the corridor and you wanted to throttle that stupid eel.
“There is a special box?” Malleus asked first, brow shooting up as his expression tugged with… something.
“I—I mean, I made all of yours special!” you defended, holding the wrapped treasure tightly to your chest. “But… I guess. Yes. There’s one that’s a little bigger than the others.”
At this, all three Housewardens exchanged pointed looks.
Jade smiled serenely once more, and then continued his absolute massacre upon your person.
“Yes, indeed,” he nodded. “And our dearest Prefect only just mentioned that—hmm. How did you word it? Ah. That’s right. ‘I’m not ready to give it to him yet.’”
The trio tensed. All looking absolutely ready to pounce. At—at what, you had no idea.
“Perhaps,” the wretch mused, “it would be best for you all to temper your rage until the victor is decided, hmm?” He paused to tap at his chin for a moment, and then his lips split into a mean, jagged, grin. “Afterwards? Well, I suppose that whole cheery sentiment about ‘love and war’ still holds true.”
You gulped, feeling startlingly like Jade had just tried to serve you up on a silver platter.
But when neither Azul, Vil, or Malleus made any further moves to murder each other… well. As sacrificial as it all felt, at least it must have worked.
The rest of the day passed in a tense sort of fugue. You certainly hadn’t expected your attempts at bringing some holiday cheer to Night Raven to go so… Uh…
But either way, you managed to survive through the rest of the afternoon, and before you knew it, all that remained of all your tireless efforts and good will was the Special Box. The big one. The one that you’d put together with extra care and hopes for better things. You glared down at it for a moment, feeling sweat starting to bead over your palms. But you couldn’t chicken out now. Not after you’d come so far! Everyone was acting so strange, and it was all so weird. And as much as that unfamiliarity had your teeth on edge and your hackles raised, you didn’t want to regret not giving out the last of your well-made sweets.
Well, here goes nothing, you frowned. You took a deep breath, willed yourself to be brave, and smiled your biggest smile.
“Here,” you beamed, more than a little shy and still a bit horrified by whatever pissing match had been going down earlier in the day, and finally offered the grandest of your chocolate boxes to the man standing opposite you.
Divus Crewel accepted your offering daintily, plucking at the crisp, sharp, wrapping with his crimson gloves. He arched one of his thin brows at you and you fought the nervous heat rising in your cheeks.
“Happy Valentine’s Day,” you blurted. “I know it’s not a thing here, but I thought it’d be nice.”
The second eyebrow joined the first—practically jumping all the way up into his fringe.
“I appreciate the gesture. Though from what I understand of all the garish advertising I’ve seen for Mostro Lounge’s new event, I assumed this was a holiday for romantic overtures,” he intoned, wry.
You spluttered and waved your hands furiously. “I mean! Normally! Yes! But also…” You trailed off, fighting the urge to fidget. “If you don’t have a—a, well, someone, then Valentine’s is just a nice excuse to give something to people you care about.” You averted your gaze and lost the battle to twist your fingers into your jacket sleeves. “My family used to give me chocolates every year. So. I thought I could… Well…” you trailed off on a grumble, embarrassed.
Crewel sighed and popped the lid off the box. He plucked two truffles from their casing—keeping one for himself and handing you the other.
“Well, then. A very happy Valentine’s to you, Prefect,” he droned and popped the chocolate into his mouth with a thoughtful hum.
You lit up like a Christmas tree and happily gobbled up your own treat. So distracted were you by the one-two-punch combo of the delicious sugar and even sweeter taste of your Professor’s approval that you almost entirely missed the pointed glare he shot over your shoulder.
“I appreciate your regard,” he said, loud. Sharp. And like he wasn’t talking to you at all. “And while I’m certain that if you do pick a ‘someone’ for yourself to celebrate with in the following years, they’ll have to work very hard to be worthy of such a gift, hmm?” His lip curled unpleasantly, in direct contrast to the indulgent warmth that had been tugging at his expression only a moment before. “I could hardly allow you to waste such a thoughtful gesture on someone unworthy.”
The Octavinelle Housewarden had the decency to look at least a little panicked—his face going pale and gaunt from where he was shrinking into his high collar. There was a frantic look about him, like he was trying to weigh the cost-benefit ratio of going up against his professor in his head, and realizing that he was stupidly, willfully, walking right into a lose-lose situation. And that, sadly—miserably—he was going to keep doing just that. The other two, however, looked entirely undeterred. Schoenheit curled his lip right back at him, more than ready to duke it out here and now, and Crewel fought the urge to remind the blonde that he was the adult in this situation, thank you very much. The adult who could very well revoke the Warden’s access to his Alchemy Labs as it suited him. The very alchemy labs that he knew Vil had been using to concoct all kinds of new, personalized, gifts for you. Draconia simply looked on with that unnervingly ancient, green, leer of his. Like he was staring down a particularly fascinating game. The Fae Prince was the most unsettling of the trio, if only because that while Crewel was more than confident enough in his abilities to subdue his other wayward students, fighting off an Immortal, All Powerful, Dragon was going to require at least a little bit of prep work.
Divus Crewel sighed, and it rattled all the way out from the marrow of his bones.
“Come, then,” he rumbled, directing you to follow him back into his office. “It’s not chocolates, but I probably have some of those ridiculous cookies of yours lying around somewhere.” Which he did. Boxes upon boxes of them. Tucked away special for whenever you came to visit. Not that he’d ever willingly admit that, even under the pain of death.
Your eyes went wide and warm as you positively beamed.
It was rotten work, certainly. He shot one, last, warning glare down the hall at the trio of infatuated interlopers as he firmly shut his office door behind you and your absolute oblivious idiocy. He’d do it. Of course he would. But, Christ alive. He was going to need a stronger drink.
3K notes · View notes
trappolia · 2 months
Text
HOT THINGS HE DOES FOR YOU ── deuce spade + gn!reader,
i. runs a hand through his hair and curses like a sailor when an algebra problem has been bothering him for too long. it messes up all his hard work in maintaining his appearance from this morning, but he’s far too upset to care. this goes for any moment of frustration for him too. sometimes his hair is so messy, you can catch the few strands of faded blond that he had failed to cover up when he dyed his hair before nrc, like the hints of his delinquent past are peeking through in more ways than one. there’s a frustrated look in his eyes that you’re a little guilty to admit you’re attracted to, and the way he spits out words definitely unexpected from an honour student makes your heart race in the strangest way … though, if you try catch his attention, he’s back to the deuce you know ─ wide doe eyes and a little lost. it makes your head spin, in the best way.
ii. takes your bags or anything that looks like it weighs more than necessary and carries them from you without even asking. most of the time this happens mid-conversation, like when he catches up with you at the hallway on your way to your next class. you’d engage in casual conversation, and suddenly he’s gently taking the straps of your bag and tugging it out of your hands, holding it in your stead while never breaking eye contact as he listens to you ramble about crewel's last lecture. and if you hold out your hand for him to give back your bag, he might just flush a little bit red and move your bag to his other side hastily, intertwining your fingers with his as he tugs you along gently to continue your journey, like he'd rather "embarrass himself" by pulling such a bold move rather than letting you carry your own stuff.
iii. always asks if it’s okay to kiss you. you’re sure than a decade could pass by, and he’d still be just as shy when it comes to kissing you. even when you give him your permission, he starts off with a shy brush of his lips against your own, a little peck or two, before diving back for more. he’ll ask every single time too. "are you sure? is it okay? can i really kiss you?" you’re not sure if your heart is pounding because of his lovely consideration of you or the fact that he can never find it in himself to stop asking for more once you let him have it the first time.
iv. starts bringing along his old leather jacket for you when you visit his hometown in the early spring or autumn. he says he brings it just in case you get cold, but you’re not oblivious enough that you don’t notice how the street punks keep their distance after doing a double take when they see you clad in the deuce spade’s leather jacket– some of them even offer their help with your groceries without being asked. it’s sort of funny and actually rather helpful in keeping out of trouble, but at the end of the day, you realise that deuce doesn’t see draping his old leather jacket over your shoulders as an act of possessiveness, but rather a way to keep you safe and protected in a subtle way. somehow, that sends your heart racing even more than the thought of him being possessive over you.
v. has an entire section of notes in his phone dedicated to you; like his regular school notes, messy and disorganised, but they’re filled with everything you could imagine. general things you like, little details of his day that reminded him of you, songs to put in playlists for you, and even pictures of stuff that you looked at while you were grocery shopping together. it’s complete with little observations and notes like they like to have the window seat but don’t want to bother people by asking, so let them board first so they can take it for themselves or they seem to like this type of snacks. maybe ask mom to send some of that one brand from the store back home in her next package. it’s the little but dedicated actions that show how much he really cares for you.
Tumblr media
© trappolia 2024
484 notes · View notes
cursedcola · 1 year
Text
Prompt: "Will You Marry Me?" - Proposal Headcannons Characters: Everyone :) Part(s): Heartslabyul (here!), Savanaclaw, Octavinelle, Scarabia, Pomefiore, Ignihyde, Diasomnia(Pt.1)(Pt.2) Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Warning(s): None. I mean, unless you don't want to marry any of them. Just don't read if that's the case. Note: These are all if he is the one proposing btw. I've been thinking about maybe programming a small fan-made mini-otome using these ideas. Just for some practice for school while also being self indulgent hehe
Riddle Rosehearts
Very traditional, but this is expected. He asks your closest of kin (a cat, to his horror) for permission to propose. Regardless of Grimm's answer, there is already a ring that's been purchased. This is merely formality
He comes up with an elaborate plan to execute the 'perfect' proposal. Riddle maps it all out and runs multiple drafts by his childhood friends. Everything must go perfectly - or else you might not accept. Is it likely that not presenting you with exactly 12 red roses with the spikes trimmed and arranged with 6 sprigs of baby's breath will be the reason you decline? Likely not. Will he chance it though? No.
Despite all his planning, he is a nervous wreak. Our red prince is great at masking it though. He plans an entire evening down to the last detail. You both go to a upscale restaurant that serves your favorite cuisine under the pretense that you're celebrating an amazing jab offer Riddle received the day prior. There's dinner, dancing, a romantic atmosphere, and delightful conversation (he prepared conversation topics in advance in case he felt nervous).
Oh look, there just so happens to be an outdoor garden to take an evening stroll through. Would you like to go?
Of course you would, and he asks you to wait outside as he visits the restroom. After you pass through the back door, a nearby waiter slips him the bouquet of twelve roses that he dropped off in the morning. He counts them, checks the stems, the ribbon holding them together, and with a relieved sigh he reaches into his pocket.
Riddle nestles the engagement ring within the core of the center rose, and for a moment his anxiety quells. He looks through the outside door's windowpane, and sees you patiently waiting for him while admiring the garden lights. The anxiety returns, but he's ready. With a knuckle-white grip on the flowers, he passes through the doors.
"Hello...I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. I had a matter of great importance to attend to - wha? No! Not that- ugh. I wasn't in the restroom! Only you would make such a childish remark on such an important day...No, do not apologize. I was not referring to my career. Perhaps these flowers will provide some clarity. I hope they are to you liking,"
When you notice the ring, he gently takes it and gets down on one knee. Riddles heart rattles against his ribcage, and his the mask of calm falters. He holds out the ring with one hand, and the other lightly trembles as it reaches for yours.
"Would you do me the honor of becoming my spouse? I promise that you will be cared for dearly, and that I will work tirelessly to become a husband that you will be proud of,"
Tumblr media
{Riddle's ring is a mix of new and old. Tradition dictates a diamond for a wedding ring, but he knows better. Riddle wants you to think of him every time you see this ring, so he chooses to stray. Three rubies sit nested in diamonds. The color of his hair, which you love to poke fun of so much. It represents how he is willing to consistently change while still holding on to his core values, all so he can become a husband worthy of you}
Trey Clover
A simple man, and therefore takes a simple approach. The depth of his proposal lies in the timing. He does not know when he will be ready to commit, or how to tell if you are ready to as well.
Trey puts proposing off for the longest time. He acts in baby steps. The idea toys with him for months, until one day he convinces himself that he is ready. After that he slowly begins to look at rings, and think of ideas. He wants to be original, but would that overwhelm you? He would sooner die than do something tacky like a public proposal at a concert or event...but is that something you might want?
If there is one thing Trey is certain about, its that rejection would break him. He knows that your relationship would never be the same if he proposed too early, or if he managed to royally screw it up. He's not a fan of attention. This is awful. Oh Great Sevens it's a pressure that he never dreamed of having to undergo.
But if he doesn't propose...would you? Are you waiting for him? what if you're thought process is the same as his?
Completely out of character for Trey, he ends up proposing on impulse. He woke up one morning and saw the ring tucked away in his sock drawer. For the millionth time he had to face the "I should just do it," thoughts and decided to act on them
The day is new, neither of you had work, and a quick glance over his shoulder proves that you would be soundly sleeping for at least the next hour. So what's he do? Trey puts on his nicest casual clothes. Nothing formal, but also nothing that is sloppy. Then he marches downstairs and starts to make breakfast. He decides to prepare tarts, a reminiscence of your days as students and where you first met. As he arranges them on a platter, he places the ring inside one made with your favorite flavor. It peaks out just enough for anyone to notice, and with a huff Trey steps back to admire his work.
His hands are slightly clammy, and quickly moves to busy himself in fear he might chicken out. It helps for a time, until he hears your footsteps approach the kitchen, followed by a sleepy 'good morning' and arms wrapping around his torso
He steels himself, and turns over in your arms to kiss the top of your head. With a nervous laugh, Trey gestures to the platter of fruit tarts and smiles at how the sight of food causes you to perk up. Like clockwork, you reach for your favorite flavor and quickly notice the metal chunk inside
He reigns in panic as you dig the ring out and eye it with a quirked brow. A moment of silence passes before it clicks, and you whip to gawk at him with the largest bugeyes he has ever seen. Wordlessly, Trey takes the ring, wipes off any crumbs with his shirt, and takes your hands in his
"I'm sorry to spring this on you so early in the morning. It must be quite the wakeup call, huh? Haha...The truth is, I have wanted to give this to you for such a long time. I simply did not know how. I had a burst of courage this morning, and am honestly running on pure adrenaline. I love you...I want to spend our lives together. Will you marry me?"
Tumblr media
{Trey's ring is a single pearl on a gold band. He feels that the ring should reflect it's wearer, and you are one of the most naturally beautiful people he has ever seen. There is beauty in simplicity - in seeing things as they are with no modifications. You do that for him, and he loves how your relationship is authentic}
Cater Diamond
Marriage? Huh. See, in the past that was a no-go. Very constricting and he didn't enjoy the idea of getting linked to someone in that regard. An s/o with no legal binding? Sure. It's just a title anyways, right? That kind of thing shouldn't matter in the long run.
Except it did end up being relevant, and now Cater wants to beat himself up because he explicitly told you once things were getting serious that he wasn't interested in marriage. You were fine with doing either and left the decision up to him. Very nice of you to be so nonchalant , and now he knows that marriage isn't 'off the table'. There is a chance.
A chance that requires him to both propose and take back his initial stance. Which is kind of humiliating. The take back part, not the proposal. Cater is confident that he can blow you away. He doesn't need shoddy internet advice, or to to do extensive research to be perfect. Nope. It's all in his noggin. He knows you like the back of his hand and therefore can concoct a speech to woo you easily.
So what comes first, the chicken or the egg? Does he try to casually tip you of that he's interested in getting married before trying to propose? No. That would be incredibly dull and ruin the element of surprise. Cater always hated those crappy half-baked romance films where the loser male lead is all 'oh honey I promise I will propose. Just give me time,' because hello???? You spoiled it??? Also don't make promises that you don't plan to keep, douchebag. How dull.
He decides that it's all or nothing. Cater spends an entire night online shopping for a ring. He already knows all of your sizes...don't ask how or why. Anyway, ordering is a cinche. Just ignore his eyebags the next day and his snappy attitude. He can't even whine about how tired he is because that would mean he has to say why he didn't sleep and -EUGH. He is torn between his two loves. Complaining for attention, and wooing you for attention. It's rough.
It comes in the mail, and after checking the package he decides to seal it back up again. It looks untouched thanks to his skills. Then, he sets up the living room to look like he is filming a video for his magicam. Specifically an unboxing video, and makes sure to let you know that it's from one of your favorite companies.
You take the bait, and he asks you to join him. Even if your camera shy, he insists that for just this one video you hop on. He might be a bit tricky and give you ideas about the product in the box (making sure to align them with a hobby or fandom that you're into). He sets the camera to record, plops down casually at your side, and hands you the box cutter. Go crazy.
Cater can't help but giggle when you open the box - just to pull out another small box. You eye it cautiously, now suspicious that this might be a prank. He urges you to open the box, and you do so while holding it at arms-length away from your face.
The ring's gem sparkles in the camera light, and he watches amused as you pull it closer. With a shaky hand, you take it out of the box and inspect it. With the way you side-eye him, Cater can tell that you're wondering if this situation is a cruel prank...
"Tada~~ You like? -- WAIT! Before you get upset just let me explain! There is no video. That was a lie, and I'm sorry for it. I surprised you good though, right?...ahem, uhm. I'm not pranking you. If you feel the same, then I want for us to get married! I know what I said before, and I take it back. The time we have spent together made me realize that I only felt that way - well, because I was unable to imagine liking someone enough to share my life. So...do you want to marry me?"
Tumblr media
{A diamond for a diamond. Diamonds are reflective. They glitter, and are clear. They are also viewed as the best choice for a ring, but in actuality they have are not. They're only considered perfect because of marketing. In actuality, they're quite the opposite. This same reasoning applies to Cater - and you understand. Yet, you still love him. The diamond represents himself, and the heart shape is to remind you how much you mean to him}
Deuce Spade
He may be young, but he is not stupid...alright. Deuce is not always stupid. Sometimes? Yes. He makes poor decisions and lets his emotions get the better of him.
This? Not a poor decision, and he will never EVER think twice about it. From the moment the idea entered Deuce's head, it was decided. HE would become your husband. Nothing would stop him.
It began during his final year at Night Raven College. Graduation approached, and everyone was excited. Everyone, except for one person. You. He didn't notice it at first, being too hung up over how he actually managed to do well in school. Get this, he even became Heartslabyul Drumhead after Riddle graduated! What an honor! His mother was proud of him, and he was proud of himself! He had career aspirations, plans to get a home back home, and even a lovely s/o to flaunt. Life was great.
What...do you mean? That you're not going back with him? The Queendom of Roses is such a beautiful place! He's certain that you'll love it and can become adjusted. Why do you want to stay at this academy? Was three years not enough?
Deuce has never gotten mad at you before. A little miffed, sure, but never frustrated. He didn't like it. Not these feelings, or how he failed to notice that you planned this from the start. He was so wrapped up in his own happiness, that he failed to see that you felt troubled over his assumptions. It stung. In a moment of weakness, he left you alone, scared that he might raise his voice at you.
He needed to think. Alone. Thankfully he moved past sharing a room with Ace when Deuce became Housewarden. His phone rang many times. Some calls from you, Ace, his mother...for once, Deuce didn't think her advice could help him. Not when he was so confused.
He thought over his dreams for after college. They were the same that he had since prior to enrolling. Nothing changed...except for you and the other unexpected friends he made along the way. It began to settle within him that the unpredicted parts were more important to him than what he initially planned. The image of him as a successful worker, on his own, and being successful were all hollow if they didn't include you. Deuce wasn't upset that you planned to stay at NRC, he was upset that you didn't plan to stay with him.
Or did you? He interpreted it as such in the moment, but he's not so sure. All Deuce knows is that you're his best friend and the love of his life. If you stay here without him, will that change? He doesn't want to find out.
The next day, he's determined. It's impulsive, this he knows. Yet it's what feels right in his heart and Deuce has always trusted his gut instinct. This choice is entirely on him. No one's advice to excuse it if you don't reciprocate, and yet he isn't afraid. He might not have a ring, or fancy offerings. All he has is his love to offer, and a willingness to work around any obstacle. The hurt from the night prior sill aches in his chest, but he has done difficult things before. The pain merely serves as a reminder for how he hurt you, and what his future might be like if he doesn't act.
He finds you before breakfast. When the first rays of sunshine peak over the horizon and the air is still moist with morning dew. You lingered in the hall of mirrors, specifically near the portal to Heartslabyul Hall. Your presence startled him, and he nearly headbutt you from the speed he was going through the portal. Were you...planning to visit him? His heart shuddered in a mix of guilt and happiness. Even after the way he behaved, you still cared.
Upon closer inspection, you appear just as disheveled as him. He must have caused you a great deal of worry...damn it. He can't even be mad at himself. Not with things as they are.
Before you have a chance to speak, he hushes you. Deuce's jaw sets in determination and he reaches into his uniform pocket. He pulls out a paper ring. One that children often give each other on the playground when playing family. He then gets down on one knee, and holds it out with both hands.
"I am sorry. I never intended to hurt you, or push my ambitions on to you. I simply love you more than anything else, and was afraid that you did not want to be together anymore. I was afraid...that being apart would take away what we have. I realize that I was wrong. I didn't see it happening, but being with you has caused me to develop dreams beyond what I initially planned. Nothing I imagine feels right, unless you are in the picture. I don't have a proper ring prepared just yet...but will you marry me? I promise that no matter where we are - for better or worse, I will make you happy. I swear it!
Tumblr media
{Your initial ring is made out of his most recent homework assignment. It's frail, and one drop of water will break it. However, he meticulously folded it and it is the byproduct of many imperfect prototypes. The paper ring truly represents who Deuce is. It's rushed, fragile, and full of love}
Tumblr media
{He chooses a vintage ring. With both of your initials engraved on the center, he hopes that this ring attests to a promise no matter where you both are. It's rose-gold, not as bright as pure gold but still beautiful. The mixed color represents the different worlds you both come from, as well as your melded life}
Ace Trappolla
Ace tends to get comfortable, and when that happens it is difficult to ignite change. However, he is also headstrong. More than many give him credit for. So once the problem is identified, it's only a matter of time until he does something about it. What he does isn't necessarily always the best solution, sure; however, when threatened he will indeed act.
Initially Ace did not plan to find love. For a long time, he rejected it and passed his feelings off as a small crush. You're attractive, he's a man, a lil of this and a lil of that - who wouldn't feel a little heart throb once in a while? It only became an issue when you became one of his best friends. It felt like he was betraying you with these thoughts. They became a problem.
His first solution was to repress them further. Like stated, he noticed a problem and so he acted. Was this the best choice? No. It ended in a dumpster-fire. Any time another student even remotely expressed interest in you, Ace felt threatened. He couldn't spend time at your side without indecent thoughts popping up. Not like 'that' (geez, get your mind out of the gutter people), but more so domestic. Ick. What was happening?!
He couldn't hold it in, and his confession will forever be known as a feels-dump that started with you sharing half of your grilled-cheese with him because he missed lunch.
Yeah. Humiliating. Ugh.
Now you're his partner, of a long time. A very, very, very long time. Years post graduation. You both have settled into life together, so why tack a title? It's not like those mean anything, right? Everything was perfect as is, and weddings are expensive. You never brought it up either, so why worry?
Well, those titles do mean things in the eyes of the law. Ace never thought to get documentation about emergency contacts and whatnot updated. So when hit his head and got a concussion when jogging? The hospital wouldn't let you in. Not until he woke up, which was the longest four hours of your life.
You didn't express how much it bothered you, but words weren't necessary. The muted panic that you tried to hold back was enough. He expected you to enter his room angry, but instead all he got was defeat. That sight alone hurt worse than the leg.
The event got Ace thinking about things he hadn't in a long time - like marriage. He got too comfortable after letting the thought go once. To him, you were already irreplicable. Years do that, and he's certain that you feel the same way about him. If his young self could see him now...pah, he was such a turd. All 'I don't need anyone,' and empty words to play tough-guy. Little did he know that the person he would need the most in life was only a dimension-hop away haha.
It's that simple, really. No panic or nervousness. Ace decided definitively that he was going to marry you, and it only took years of being an airhead to figure it out.
He spends the night in the hospital for surveillance, and the staff is kind enough to prove you with a cot to sleep on. He stubbornly drags it next to his bed, and once you're sleeping soundly he 3slips a bandage over your ring finger to take the measurement
He planned to go buy the ring instantly after being discharged, but you wouldn't leave his side. Nagging about bed-rest and taking it easy...ugh! He needs to do this thing! No, he can't tell you about it. It's a secret!.....ugh, fine. One more day. Just because he loves the attention.
The next morning after, he's excitedly going to the nearest jewelers. He doesn't have a particular ring in mind, but he's done some research! It's the idea behind the ring that's important anyways....alright. Maybe he'll call up Cater.
Ace does nothing extravagant. He sticks to comfort. You, him, both eating dinner while watching a movie on the TV that evening. He quickly scarfs down his meal within the first 10 minutes and runs to your shared room after ditching his dishes. Stashed in his wallet, he pulls put the ring and hides it in his palm.
Ace tries to be smooth. He dims the living room lights, and sits down closer to you than before. He moves to take your hand with the one holding the ring, and sneak it on to your finger.
It fails, obviously. Who wouldn't notice someone trying to shove a piece of metal on their finger? You pull away on instinct, and the ring falls between the couch cushions. He freaks out for a moment and sifts through them as you continue to eat between giggles. Only when he holds the ring up in triumph do you quiet down.
"Not so funny now, is it? - Nah, just kidding. It was pretty funny....although I wanted this to be a bit more romantic. Eh. It's fine. From the look on your face, I'm guessing that you know what this is?...Uhh. Yeah. I thought it was a good time, y'know? We've been together so long that I already do think of you as my partner. I think you feel the same? Feel free to jump in if not....but, yeah. I love you. A lot. I'd really like to make it official, and I'm sorry it took me so long to get the guts to ask. Will you marry me?"
Tumblr media
{Tradition is for chumps. Ace wanted to get something fun and eye-catching. Many suggested otherwise, but this felt right. Your relationship has never been conventional and never will be. Hell, screw 'conventional,' because it's perfect as it is and so is this ring. He knows that this ring will draw your attention, and that's all he cares about}
End Note: None of the ring pictures are mine. I pulled them off of google images because - well, I had ideas and tried to find rings to match them. I write fanfic, not weld jewelry.
2K notes · View notes
Text
How You Turn My World; Chapter 4
You finally find your way into the labyrinth, coming across some new and old faces; both friendly and malicious.
Character; Lilia Vanrouge
Content; Gender-neutral reader, reader is getting tired of being stuck here and smelling like a bog
Content Warnings; Swearing, some talk of death, reader passes out
Word Count; 2.2 K
Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 |
As per usual, don't put my work into AI.
Tumblr media
You were finally making some decent progress, what, with not being stuck in some bog and knowing somewhat of where you were going. A vast improvement really! Well, it would be, but unfortunately, you still reeked of rotten eggs and skunk — apparently the bog stench only got worse the longer it stayed on.
“Why did it have to dump me into the swamp,” you huffed, rounding yet another corner. “Like, it could have dumped me beside the water, but, no, no, let’s dump the magicless human right into the putrid bog water! A good guffaw, don’t you think? Ha ha ha HA!”
At least your au de Bog of Eternal Stench kept any would-be assailants away since you hadn’t run into anything (besides a rose bush, ouch) since you started making your way through the labyrinth. So maybe it wasn’t all that bad… damn, maybe your sense of smell was just used to it… hey, if stink helps you not die, then you would gladly stay stinky! Well, bitterly stay stinky is more like it.
“Assholes,” you muttered, rounding another corner. 
But it wasn’t a corner; it was a crossroad. Three paths merged off of the one you were on.
… aren’t labyrinths just one long line? THIS IS A FUCKING MAZE?! You groaned, looking at your possible options which all looked exactly the same.
Decisions, decisions, decisions. Of course nothing is easy here, no no no! Gotta make things difficult now.
The hedge behind you rustled, and you whipped around, getting into a stance where you could either land a pretty good sucker punch to the hedge-stalker or make a mad dash away. But out of the hedge crawled out a small, fuzzy, caterpillar. And back at home you would have thought it was cute, but you learned your lesson from the doors; don’t trust it, or anyone for that matter.
You looked down at the caterpillar, and the caterpillar looked up at you, blinking slowly. 
What are the chances… 
“Do you know a way out,” you asked the caterpillar, crouching down so that you didn’t tower over it.
The caterpillar blinked at you again (apparently caterpillars in the Underground have eyelids, which isn’t the weirdest thing considering everything). “No,” it chirped and continued crawling on its merry way, wherever that may be. “But you’ll find the way.” And it disappeared into the growth of the maze, humming a little tune to itself.
You sighed, and pushed yourself back up, straightening out your shoulders and looking up to the sky. “I’ll find a way,” you breathed, looking up at the cloudless sky which was starting to turn a brilliant amber with the setting sun. “I might want to find a way is more like it.”
You looked back down to the ground, looking at the three paths in front of you. They all look the same, save for the ground making up paths themselves, with the middle and right paths looking well worn with travel. And while they may be well worn, there was a voice at the back of your head that was whispering caution. The left-most path was not as well travelled, with dead vines covering parts of it.
“Hopefully you’re right, little buddy since I could use all the luck I can get.” And you made your way down the path, hoping that it was the correct one and didn’t lead you to your death or some other unpleasant thing.
Lilia was at the entrance of the labyrinth, in front of the two doors.
“Have you seen a human, about this tall, a bit of a temper, and smelling foul,” he asked the doors.
The doors looked at each other before looking at Lilia. “And what’s it to you,” they said in unison.
Lilia smiled, but it was one of mild annoyance, not joy or amusement. “Royal orders I fear. You wouldn’t want the mistress finding out about you both tampering with a royal matter, would you?” The smile turned cat-like since Lilia had backed them into a corner.
The doors paled, with the blue door speaking up. “No no, sir! We would never dream of such a thing!!! Yes, there was a human, a wretched one at that, horribly rude!”
Lilia hummed, cocking a brow at the door. “I do think wretched is a bit of an overstatement now,” he whispered to himself. “Well, tell me where about they are then. The sooner I can collect them, the better for you lot.”
The red door sighed, “Near the heart of it, they took the left path.”
Left path? Why the left path leads to… Shit. Lilia mentally groaned, knowing that regardless of the path you took, you would end up having to deal with them eventually. “Your cooperation has been noted,” is what he said though, giving the doors both a nod before turning into a bat and flying over the labyrinth, trying to find you before you ran into whoever them was.
“Please be clever enough not to die,” he whispered to no one, hoping that he didn’t have to deliver your body to the Queen.
The left path brought you to what looked like a forest; with old-growth trees, ferns and moss covering the ground, and a list mist hanging in the air. It was peaceful and beautiful, with the setting sun illuminating the mist without burning it away.
But that would not last, night was fast approaching and you had nothing to protect you this time; no rowan tree to haul your ass up, and no sort of weapon to protect yourself besides the oh-so-lovely smell of the bog to deter something from eating you. You were pretty sure it would also keep away anything that wanted to otherwise snatch you up.
“AH!” Something jumped out from a tree, and you couldn’t fully register what it was since you were also screeching, much like the creature was at you; you with fright, the creature with amusement and joy.
Two other creatures jumped out from behind the trees and startled cackling, jumping, and clapping. Together, they surrounded you, with no way to really escape them without fighting through.
… you really should have read about fae species, since you didn’t know what they exactly were, or how dangerous they were either. 
One pulled you near a pit and lit a fire, cackling in glee and dancing, trying to get you to join them. “Ah come on, human, have some fun! DANCE BABEY!!!!”
But you stayed still as more creatures came out of the shadows, dancing around the fire, giggling, cackling, and pulling a bit at your clothes to prompt you to join them. You didn’t know, cementing your feet down, your eyes watching their movements with caution.
‘Should you dance with the fae, you shall not stop dancing until you exhaust yourself. And once you wake up, you will continue dancing. This cycle will repeat itself until you dance to death.’ 
At least that was what the book said, and so you stayed still, regardless of how much the creatures pulled at you. While it looked like a grand old time, you remained where you were.
“I don’t have time for dancing,” you answered coldly, flinching from pinching fingers. You were also a bit shocked that Eau de Bog of Eternal Stench wasn’t keeping them away. Either, they couldn’t smell, or, they didn’t care that you smelled downright awful. “So this ‘baby’ won’t dance.”
And should I be offended by you calling me ‘baby’ or am I reading too much into it?
The main creature just shrugged and spun its dancing partner around. “Your loss human! More fun for us then! YIPPEE!!!” And it threw something in the fire to where you could feel the heat on your face.
What now? You were just standing there awkwardly as the creatures danced about, singing something that you couldn’t really make out. All you knew was that the heat, noise, and the dizzying dance of them was making your head pound, and throat scream in thirst. You hadn’t drank anything for over a day(?) — no, bog water did not count — and the heat from the fire made the thirst only worse. Shit.
“Ah, you don’t look too… hot there human,” one of the creatures snickered at its own joke at your expense. “Maybe if you dance with us, loosen up and have a bit of fun, then you can have a drink? Hmm? Dancing won’t kill you!” But its failed attempts at covering up its own malicious giggles were more than enough to stand your ground… which was coming at you quite fast since you practically collapsed.
Was it the thirst? The pounding migraine that wanted nothing more than to crawl into some dark hole and hide? Or your exhaustion from making that tiring trek, crawling yourself out of the bog and making the trek again, or the hours you had spent wandering around the maze with no real idea of where you were going? All you really knew was that you were now on the ground with the creatures poking at you to see if you were still alive.
“Aw, man! Are they already dead? That’s no fun!” One of the creatures pouted, raising up your arm, and you let it plop back to the ground. “Come on human! Get up! You’re not a party pooper are you?”
Scre you buddy! Can’t you read the situation?!
You were trying your best to stay quiet, which wasn’t all that hard, since all of your energy was gone. 
“They best not be,” a familiar voice called out.
From your position, you couldn’t see who it was, but you could make out the creatures jumping away from you like you were the hot fire instead of the fire pit. But someone else was approaching until you could make out a pair of shoes in front of your face.
They crouched down beside you, placing their fingers gently at the base of your throat; taking your pulse. “Hmph, playing dead, are we, Beastie?”
That irritating chuckle. The annoying nickname. Those mischievous magenta eyes that now looked at you with curiosity and amusement.
It was him — Mr. Sparkles.
And he had just blown your act of playing possum (well, not really, since you had actually collapsed).
But you didn’t say anything, instead favouring to give him a dirty look. Yet he just shook his head in jest, and proceeded to pick you up and wrap you around his shoulders and neck like some sort of bizarre ermine pelt; better than being carried like a sack of potatoes or the bridal carry you supposed.
“Her majesty sends her regards for not turning or killing her guest,” Lilia offered the creatures. It would be such a waste and pity to see such an entertaining Beastie leave us too soon now. “But do know she won’t take to their condition lightly.”
My condition? I’m not some Victorian child with some unknown illness wreaking havoc on their body you know?! But all that you did was groan and cough. You couldn’t even cough in Mr. Sparkles’ (Lilia’s) face, since you had a lovely view of the moss-covered ground and the fae’s shoes.
He patted the back of your calves, and you would have kicked him if you had more energy, but you didn’t. “Now, we really should be off, since Beastie has… an hour to get out of this maze before they turn into some sort of worm, or a hedge; never know what this old labyrinth will decide on really.” Lilia chuckled at the thought (was it merriment, or was he happy that you weren’t joining the caterpillar you met earlier?).
“No,” you wheezed. “WoRm!”
“See! They said it themself! No worm! How lovely that we are on a similar wavelength, Beastie! Marvellous even!” Lilia exclaimed, and the both of you started levitating off of the ground. “Now, do enjoy your party, Fireys!”
The creatures (Fireys apparently) groaned but got back to their party, dancing around the fire like they didn’t just try to lure you to your death mere minutes before.
“Tsk tsk, Beastie,” Lilia’s tutting brought your attention back to him and you grumbled. “You owe me two favours now, you know. Lucky that I found you… although that part wasn’t hard. I thought you learned your lesson the first time you decided to take a dip into the Bog of Eternal Stench?”
You lightly kicked him, letting your irritation be known, but Lilia just hummed. “Now now, no need to be like that! Do you want to smell like a bog when you meet the mistress? She wouldn’t take kindly to your… unique aroma.”
You hissed out a breath since he decided to pinch at your ear rather harshly — prompting for you to answer. “No,” you whispered hoarsely.
“Also, do read up on that book, since you will want to know about the government and fae species etiquette!”
From a smelly bog and fumbling around a maze for hours on end, to finding yourself being taken to fae high society… was it too late to become some worm in the maze? I think being a worm actually has a better chance of me living.
But sadly, you were saved from an eternity of being a worm. Hopefully, Mr. Sparkles (Lilia) would cover for your blunders a little for when you found yourself in front of ‘the mistress’.
...
...
...
...
To be continued!
~~~~~~~
Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @cheezy-moon @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii
Link to Masterlist
447 notes · View notes
merakiui · 1 year
Note
hi hi!! Thank you so much for doing this event!! TwT can I get sweet lollipops (abo friends with benefits to eventually lovers!!) with candy hearts (accidental knotting/pregnancy?) for our lovely alpha Floyd?
I hope I got that right! 💜
Tumblr media
floyd leech x (gender neutral) reader cw: nsfw, abo/omegaverse, knotting, friends with benefits, omega!reader, alpha!floyd, heats note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]
i. “this is just a one-time thing, okay?”
Celebrations at the Mostro Lounge are always extravagant events, luring in crowds so large the premises might resemble that of an overpacked sardine tin if it weren’t for Azul’s careful foresight. To avoid any unsavory issues, tonight’s celebration—a birthday party for a staff member—is strictly limited to Octavinelle residents and those working tonight’s shift, save for the exception that the birthday celebrant was permitted to invite friends from other dorms. 
The lounge reflects this upbeat occasion, decorated in banners and streamers, confetti, and seashell-shaped light strands—all in pastel purples, blues, yellows, and pinks, colors resembling the shiny, waterlogged treasures found deep within the Coral Sea. There’s a buffet table that’s situated in the center of the room with snacks and desserts of all kinds, piled humorously high on silver platters that have not yet fallen over due to some special enchantment. Partygoers are scattered all throughout the lounge, some filling plates for themselves and others chatting around booths and in front of the massive aquarium, its aquatic illumination casting everything in cerulean hues. 
You stand behind the bar drying and arranging crystal champagne flutes, a task so monotonous you’re lucky to listen in on nearby conversations to keep your brain perfectly sane. There are plenty of cloying smells that fill the lounge like helium inside a balloon, far more distracting than the scents of pastries and fruity, fizzy beverages. Your nose wrinkles at the distinctness of every alpha, omega, and beta in this room, some so robust you can practically taste them as they fog your brain with an unshakable haze. 
Standing beside you, Azul works to mix and pour drinks, keeping up with each order in timely, flawless fashion. The clinking of glass and metal shakers brings you back to the present. 
“You seem to be wearing quite the pensive look. A Madol for your thoughts?” Azul remarks without looking from the floor laid out before the both of you, his eyes scanning each and every partygoer, tallying them within his mind like they’re prey he’s preparing to net in one fell swoop. 
You swallow a thick, awkward laugh, shaking your head to rid yourself of the cotton that’s been stuffed into your ears. Even the music spilling out of the speakers in loud, wild notes—courtesy of the birthday playlist assembled by the birthday boy and his friends—is muffled beyond comprehension, coming to you in a distant echo. You rub your shoe against the hardwood floor; it’s got a heartbeat, but that could just be because of the pounding music. 
“(Name)?”
“Right. Thoughts. Madol. Yes,” you say with great haste, smacking your lips in a way that makes you look as if you’ve just tasted the air. And you are, technically, with every inhale and exhale. Amongst the many pheromones tinging the room, the ones that radiate from the alphas smell the most enticing. You blink through a sudden, all-consuming dizzy spell, head spinning. “I’m not thinking...about anything.” 
Azul peers at you from his peripheral. “If you feel unwell, you’re welcome to take your break. I can handle things from here.”
“I’ll be fine...” You wipe sweat from your brow and tug at your collar. “Are you hot? It feels really hot in here.”
His brows knit together for a mere moment before a knowing glint flashes in his perceptive blues. It dawns on you, when he takes the glass from your trembling hands and sets it on the counter, that you are not as fine as you were a few moments ago. And both of you seem to have arrived at the same reason for why that might be.
“From one omega to another,” he murmurs, yet his voice sounds much clearer in this moment, “I suggest you take the rest of the night off before it catches up to you.”
You debate the suggestion, which is actually more of an order veiled within soft syllables, and you’re ready to insist you can power through it when your knees almost give out altogether when a particularly strong smell hits you. You slam your hands down upon the counter to keep your balance. 
“This better not come out of my pay,” you mutter through grit teeth. 
Azul barks out a laugh. “Why, I would never! We’re of the same sub-gender, after all. Naturally, we have to look out for one another.”
You try to roll your eyes, but it only makes you dizzier. You’ve done your best to ignore it so far, but now it’s impossible to not feel the slick that’s dampening your undergarments and rolling down your thighs in thick rivulets. 
“Shall I send a beta to accompany you on your way back?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Azul looks like he wants to argue you on that, but instead he turns away to resume his current task. “Then I wish you a pleasant evening. Be safe.”
Pleasant, you think with bitter resentment. As if any of this is ever pleasant.
Luckily, the booming music and the absurd amount of scents within the lounge all but drowns yours out, allowing you to slip through the exit to follow the path that leads to Octavinelle's shadowed halls. The sprawling ocean looks much darker through the glass, as if it’s simply a liquid outer space or an endless abyss. Either one sounds equally terrifying. You stop your stagger-walk to lean against the cool surface, hoping to regain your sense of awareness. Shutting your eyes only makes you even more tipsy, so you press your forehead to the glass and exhale slowly. 
It takes a moment for the world to stop tilting, but once it does you peel yourself away from the glass and continue to stumble onwards. In hindsight, you shouldn’t have decided to test fate when your calendar detailed your approaching heat, but that’s the least of your worries now. Not much can be done when it’s already upon you. Although you really wish it would have chosen to inconvenience you tomorrow when you weren’t set to work at the lounge. 
The music is but a mere hum now, so distant it almost isn’t there, but you immediately forget about it when your shoe catches on something at the end of the hall, which sends you tumbling forwards. You land on frigid, unforgiving tiles with a harsh smack, and though the pain trickles through you it isn’t enough to distract you from the soothing scent of fresh rainfall. You blink through tears, forcing yourself to sit up, and find yourself staring into the face of Floyd Leech.
And he’s staring right back.
“F-Floyd? Didn’t you...” You inhale a deep breath, a poor move on your part because his smell encapsulates you entirely, and it almost knocks you over. “Kitchen shift... Azul put you on...food duty or...something.”
“Didn’t feel like it,” he mutters, looking bored and irritated all at once, as if your sudden arrival has disturbed his brooding in the dark. “Whatcha doin’ here? Thought you had a shift.”
You open your mouth to respond, but even that is too much for you; and so you slap your hands over your mouth, fixing him with a weak glare. Floyd’s never known just how strong his scent is, but you’ve always been able to differentiate it from the other staff members’ scents at the lounge because of how unmistakably Floyd it is. Unlike Jade, who dutifully wears scent blockers, Floyd could care less about the precautions most take to avoid any scent-related problems from cropping up. Sometimes you wish he was more like Jade, but then Jade never has any notable scent about him and that unnerves you more than the overwhelming nature of Floyd’s.
Floyd flashes his sharp teeth at you in a mocking grin. “Shrimpy looks so funny. Smells funny, too.”
You intend to put more vitriol into your glare, but his playful chuckle has you suppressing a needy, little whine. Your knuckles grow sore from how forcefully you’re clamping your hands over your mouth. If you don’t get back to Ramshackle soon, you’ll be a mess of sweat, pheromones, and slick and then that might draw unwanted attention. You attempt to stand, only to fail miserably when you sway on unsteady feet, and so you lower yourself onto your knees, glancing at Floyd’s colorful sneakers. 
A breath shudders through you. The smell of rain and morning dew hangs heavy like cigarette smoke in the air. You can’t believe you’re about to verbalize your innermost desires, if they weren’t already blindingly apparent, but you can’t hold back any longer.
“Can you—” you swallow your inhibitions, far past the point of shame— “Can you help me?”
Floyd follows the length of his outstretched legs to look at you hunched over in front of him, your hands placed firmly on the floor to keep yourself from falling over. 
His mismatched eyes hold mischief, but his face is neutral when he replies with: “Mmh... I guess. What do ya want help with?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” you snap, and he tilts his head at you like you’re a bewildering curiosity. His acquiescence is all you really needed to hear, though, because you’re already shedding your uniform suit jacket in a breathless hurry. “Please don’t get smart right now. I just need—” You’re not sure what you need specifically, but you do know you need relief. And he’s the only alpha within reach. “I just need you to help.”
“Okaaay,” he drawls lazily, waiting there with his back against the glass. His figure is framed in the bright luminescence from the jellyfish swarming in the great depths beyond, and you crawl over his long legs and into his lap. He peers at you, amusement twinkling in his gaze. “Shrimpy’s so funny tonight!”
You admire him through the lenses unique to a heat. It’s more akin to a drunken stupor—the kind of phenomenon that makes strangers look ten times more appealing than they normally do if you’re sober—and every rugged, dangerous edge that composes Floyd suddenly seems so perfect and safe. Your fingers curl into the lapels of his jacket, and you yank him towards you, your lips mere centimeters from his. There’s no indication that he feels the same spark as you, but in this moment there doesn’t need to be any life-changing sparks. As long as he’s agreed to help you, you’ll take his assistance and nothing more.  
“Floyd.”
“Shrimpy.”
“Can you...” You wiggle your hips, impatiently fumbling to shrug out of the straps of your high-waisted suspender trousers. You’re not very successful in this endeavor, so you give up with a frustrated huff. “Please touch me. D-Down there...”
“Sure thing,” he says with a nonchalance that’s frighteningly alarming.
You were certain that an omega in heat made it difficult for most alphas to focus, let alone properly function, when there were so many tempting smells and sounds coming from them. But then Floyd isn’t like most alphas. Floyd is uniquely Floyd in every possible way. He doesn’t conform to the typical standards applied to other alphas. But it does sting a little to think that, with how undoubtedly cloying your pheromones must be, he isn’t affected in the slightest. He’s not even hard, which feels like a chip in your omega pride, but you’re too frantic with lust to dwell on it. 
Floyd's rough hands grab your waist and he lifts you up slightly, pressing you flush against his chest so that he can yank your trousers down for easier access. The fabric bunches halfway at your knees, but that hardly matters in the moment. You’re certain the wet spot would have been noticeable if it weren’t for the dim lighting in the hall, and you’re secretly grateful for the lack of brightness.
“T-This is just a one-time thing, okay?”
“Whatever you say.”
You’re not sure why he sounds so disinterested, but you don’t care enough to ask. And when he slides your soaked underwear to the side so that he can thrust two slender fingers up inside your dripping hole, you slump against him, gripping his shoulders like he’s the only one who can keep you afloat amidst the turbulent sea you’ve found yourself in. With your face buried in the crook of his neck, where his scent glands are so close and produce the headiest scent you’ve ever come to know, you cum with a strangled, gasping cry, slick clinging to your thighs in translucent, stringy ribbons. Floyd doesn’t say anything, continuing to curl his fingers inside tight, wet, gummy walls, which leaves you shuddering and sobbing with ecstasy. 
You lick at his neck, pressing lingering kisses to every available inch, breathing in his scent as if it’s your oxygen. Your teeth prick the surface of his skin, but before you can bite down he’s grabbing your chin with his free hand and smashing his mouth against yours in a sloppy, aggressive kiss. Your teeth click against his, and his tongue flicks past your lips, searching for yours. You meet him halfway, kissing back as fervently as you roll your hips against his hand, taking a third and a fourth finger in one thrust. He’s worked you open with delightful movements, scissoring you as roughly as he kisses, and when you break away to gulp down mouthfuls of air Floyd licks his lips clean of saliva—your saliva.
You’re not sure if it was possible for you to get wetter, but you do and you reach your second—or perhaps it’s your third—climax with a squeal.
“You can put it in. Please put it in,” you mumble, mind fuzzy with one single thought: If you aren’t fucked sore and senseless right now, you might never recover from this heat. “Please, Flo... Floyd, put it in...” You palm at his crotch, satisfied that there’s now a stiffness straining against his trousers, and you reach up to slide his suit jacket off his broad shoulders. “I need it. I’ll cover your shifts for a week—no, two weeks—three weeks! Anything you want—just need you inside me...”
Floyd hums his consideration. “Don’t wanna,” he eventually says, cutting off your whiny protests with another expert curl of his fingers. “S’too much work.”
That seems to sober you a little, and though your entire body is flushed with warmth there’s an odd coldness that seeps through. You lose track of how many times you cum, but at some point you must have slipped into unconsciousness from the exhaustion of it all. When you wake, the sun’s just barely peeking over the horizon, and you’re lying in your work clothes in your room at Ramshackle Dorm. You feel and smell so filthy, covered in slick and sweat that has dried sticky on your skin, but the worst of your heat has abated for now. You know this isn’t the last of it—that there’s more to come in the next few days and that you’ll just feel so foggy-headed until the true instinctual lust hits and you’re leaking through your undergarments like a broken faucet. 
Groggily, you sit up, rubbing the crust from your eyes, only to flop back down. 
Bath can wait, you think, yawning. It’s way too early for that.
You feel something bunched underneath you, and for a moment you think it’s Floyd. Though you’re not sure why he immediately pops into your mind, you’re given your answer when you pull the suit jacket out from beneath you. It smells pleasantly of a rainy morning, musky and earthy, a pleasant petrichor that could only belong to Floyd.
ii. “you smell like shrimpy. ain’t that good enough?”
Floyd is an elusive force. He appears and disappears whenever he feels like it—almost like a playful poltergeist haunting a house. If he wants you to find him, you’ll find him. Today, it’s not Floyd you find when you venture through the courtyard in search of him, but rather Jade. You suppose he’s better than no one, and if you look at him from the wrong angle he becomes Floyd. So this is the best you can do in this moment. Perhaps it’s convenient you don’t have to face Floyd because you haven’t even rehearsed what you’ll say to him—if you even want to say anything to him about that night.
“I’d like to return Floyd’s jacket,” you tell him in your best professional tone, offering it to him alongside a packaged pastry.
Jade gazes at your outstretched hands. “The pastry as well?”
“Please don’t be a smart-ass.”
He hides his sharp smile behind a gloved fist. “Is there a reason you’re in possession of Floyd’s jacket?” As if to be even more irritating than he already is, he adds, “And Floyd’s pastry?”
You avoid his stare, distracting yourself with the sight of your scuffed shoes. “N-No reason in particular...”
But Jade is not the type to drop a subject he’s found interest in, which leaves him thoroughly invested in this not-so-mysterious mystery. “No reason at all?” he presses, brows raising. “If I recall, Floyd’s been left without a jacket for a week. This is merely speculation—take it with a grain of salt—but you must have been indisposed for a few days to deal with...‘personal matters,’ as Azul had called it, hence why we didn’t see you at the lounge. Is it correct to assume you may have been burdened with a certain biological inconvenience?”
“Not true! He lent it to me. Yeah, lent it to me. That’s all there is to it.”
“And the pastry?”
“Oh my—Jade, please just take your brother’s jacket. You’re killing me here.”
“On the contrary, I haven’t yet twisted the knife deep enough.”
You groan, deflating before him like a boneless fish. “You already know why I have his jacket. Don’t make this difficult.”
He chuckles; you don’t see what’s so hilarious about this situation. “Well, I was made aware of specific details, yes. What was it you had told Floyd? Ah, right. You would cover his shifts for three weeks if he—”
“Ahaa, Shrimpy, there you are!” Before you can listen to the rest of what was going to be a highly flustering sentence, Floyd crashes into you from behind, wrapping his arms around you, while you nearly topple over from the impact. Thankfully, he steadies you with strong arms. “I was lookin’ all over for you!”
“What a coincidence. So was I.” You squirm in his grasp, holding his jacket and the pastry up for his viewing pleasure. “For you.”
“So that’s where it was! Thanks, Shrimpy! Didja take good care of it for me?”
You stare at him. Did he seriously forget where his own jacket was?
“I don’t know what flavors you like, but I got this custard bread for you.”
“Huh? What for? It’s not my birthday.” The arm curled around your waist tightens its crushing grip, persuading you to admit your reasoning before he squeezes and your guts spill out through cracked bone. “It’s not even a holiday. What gives?”
“It’s for your help that night. A thank you from me to you.”
He snatches both from you, draping his jacket over his shoulder, and inspects the packaging. “Hey, this looks yummy. Thanks, Shrimpy!” He digs something out of his pocket, takes your hand, spreads your fingers, and drops it in your palm. “I also got a little somethin’ for ya.”
It’s a golden canine tooth, most likely one that came from a beastman. There’s still some blood and gum sticking to it.
“Um. Thanks?” You choke down the urge to shiver.
Floyd giggles, looking quite satisfied with himself.
Jade stares at it, unsurprised. “May I ask where you acquired this tooth?”
Floyd shrugs, releasing you from his smothering hug. “Asked some guy where Shrimpy was and he kept dodgin’ the question. Had to pull the answer right from his mouth.”
“I see.” 
You stuff the tooth into your pocket, wiping your palm against the fabric of your blazer, and grin awkwardly. “I appreciate the...gift.”
You’ve never traded a pastry for a tooth before. But, hey, there are firsts for everything, right?
“You like it?! I can get more for Shrimpy! Which ones do you like best? Gold? Silver?”
“No, that’s okay. One is enough.”
One is too much, actually...
Floyd hums his contentment, the scent of rain rolling off of him in happy waves. You inhale as subtly as you can. He smells good—perhaps much better now that you’ve toed the line of intimacy with him—however emotionless it may have been—and have had an entire week to familiarize yourself with his scent. It settles your frazzled nerves, allowing you a small fraction of confidence...that immediately shrivels when you recall how he’d called your scent funny.
“Do I...” You shrug your anxieties off, forcing the question out from the confines of your dry throat. “Do I smell bad?”
Floyd looks through you rather than at you. “Never said that.”
“You didn’t say I smelled good either.” You cross your arms over your chest. “For the record, I think you smell good.”
That prompts a tiny laugh from Jade. “As riveting as your human courting techniques are, I’m afraid I must be on my way. I wish you a pleasant afternoon, (Name). Floyd, I’ll see you at dinner.”
“‘Kaaay.”
You’ve never been more glad to see him and his troublesome smirk go, and you curse him six ways from Sunday with each step he takes, until it’s just you and Floyd standing in the center of the sparsely populated courtyard. 
Floyd unwraps the pastry without much decorum, taking an obnoxious chomp from it while he waits for you. Crumbs stick to his face and gather on his uniform like sugar snowfall. 
“So I do smell bad.”
“Don’t put words in my mouth, Shrimpy,” he says around a mouthful of pastry. “You smell like Shrimpy. Ain’t that good enough?”
What in the world does ‘shrimpy’ even smell like? 
You tilt your head back and forth, unsure of what to truly say. “I... Floyd, your scent really helped me. Like, a lot. And I know you probably don’t think it did, but your jacket made things way more tolerable than they usually are.”
He’s licking his fingers clean now, nodding along to what you’re saying with bright, eager eyes. 
You steel yourself with it’s now or never. “My budget has been low lately, so I haven’t been able to afford suppressants for the next few months. And between attending classes, working at the lounge, and keeping Ramshackle in good shape, I can’t lose a week’s time because of my heats. So... So what I’m trying to say—what I’m trying to get at here... I guess what I really want—can we make this not a one-time thing, but a monthly thing instead? If you helped me, you could cut my heats down to just two or three days. I can buy you more pastries if you want, or I can cover your shifts. Please just help me out again. I’ll do anything.”
It feels useless and pathetic to beg, especially since you know how mercurial he can be, so sometimes it’s as though you’re speaking to an immovable wall. In fact, you might have better luck going to Azul or Jade if you really wanted—
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
“Okay.” He grins. “Why not? Sounds fun.”
“So it doesn’t sound like ‘too much work’?”
“Nah. Shrimpy’s fun.” He crumples the empty packaging and stuffs it in his pocket. “And fun things aren’t work.”
“All right... If you say so.”
You aren’t going to push it any further, lest you risk annoying him and losing this chance. 
iii. “most importantly, we’re just friends and nothing more.”
It’s raining today. Normally, watching gloomy weather unfold fosters unrest within you. But this time Floyd’s with you, lying sprawled in a cramped alcove in the library, all lanky limbs outstretched, while you flip through a textbook in search of anything that might give you more insight into how to cure heats or, at the very least, halt them in a way that doesn’t require expensive medicines. Floyd’s scrolling on his phone, a lollipop between his lips. He’d caught your scent on the wind and had gravitated towards it, and you’d smelled him the minute he stepped into the hallway to follow you into the library. You let him accompany you because there’s no shaking Floyd once he’s made up his mind.
With the lack of sunlight, the lighting in the library is dimmer than usual. It’s peacefully comfortable despite the rain-spattered windowpanes and the cloudy sky beyond ancient, dusty confines. You peer at Floyd from where you sit. He’s looking through an online shoe catalogue.
“Do you like shoes?”
“They’re cool,” he replies without missing a beat. “And the surface’s got lotsa cool designs and styles.”
Briefly, you glance at your worn pair in hopes that looking long enough will give you an idea for what to say next. It doesn’t work as intended, but Floyd doesn’t seem keen to continue chatting with you, his attention focused squarely on his phone screen. You return to the task at hand, skimming a few chapters on alpha and omega biology, information on betas, and even an in-depth analysis on heat and rut nuances. Nothing tells you of the panacea needed to rid yourself of your heats.
Defeated, you shut the textbook with a sigh. Floyd’s looking at you now, his phone swiftly pocketed. You slump in your seat. He smiles lopsidedly when he knows you’re watching him.
“All good?”
You nod, but your words contradict that. “I can’t find a cure for heats and it’s a little frustrating.”
“Why do you wanna cure ‘em? You got me for that, don’tcha?”
“Yeah. But… Actually, since you’re here, can we go over a few rules? My next heat isn’t scheduled until next month, but I’d like to set some boundaries before we do anything.”
Floyd pulls the lollipop stick from his mouth and twists it into a knot. “Lay ‘em on me.”
You nod, push the textbook away from you, and scoot your chair closer to the alcove. “You can’t bite.” You point at your neck. “Anywhere else is fine, but here is off limits.”
Floyd mirrors your actions, tapping the area where his glands reside with a hum. “I won’t bite.” His smile says otherwise, but you take him for his word.
“And no knotting.”
“No knotting.”
“No breeding either.”
“No breeding.”
“And… And no kissing.”
“No kissing. Gotcha.”
“You’re being surprisingly agreeable about this.”
Floyd shrugs. “It’s what Shrimpy wants.”
“Right. Okay. Well.” You wring your hands together. “Most importantly, we’re just friends and nothing more.”
“Just friends,” he parrots. “Nothing more.”
“Cool.” You nod to yourself, but it does nothing to dispel the awkwardness. “Awesome. Cool...”
Floyd pops up from the alcove seat like a reanimated corpse springing from a grave. He grabs your hand and tugs you up from your chair, all boisterous energy and laughter despite the vicious shushes you receive from nearby students. 
“Let’s go swimming!”
You have no idea where this came from, but you allow yourself to be tugged from the library, abandoning the pile of textbooks you’d been perusing for nearly an hour. And though your spirits had been dampened considerably by the information, or rather lack thereof, you seem to forget about it while you watch Floyd splash freely around in the Octavinelle pool, swimming laps with such smooth precision. You dip your bare feet in the chilled water, entertaining him with a game of fetch, tossing a diving ring each time he brings it back to you.
And within no time your frown has lifted into a genuine smile.
Later, during your shift, Jade brushes past you. “Floyd has been in such a pleasant mood today,” he remarks, nodding towards his brother, who’s currently balancing trays as he happily skips from table to table, a whistle in his voice. “I wonder if something exciting has happened. Do share. I so dislike being left out of the loop.”
Knowing Jade and his affinity for omniscience, you suspect he’s already within the loop. And it’s not as if you could lie to him; he’d find out eventually when Floyd starts smelling more like you and you start smelling more like Floyd. So it’s best to be honest about it, even if it is a little uncomfortable admitting such a thing to Jade.
“Floyd’s going to help me with my heats.”
“Is that so? How kind of him. You have my most sincerest blessings.” Jade holds a hand over his heart. “Take good care of Floyd now. He can be rather sensitive, though he doesn’t seem it.”
“We’re not getting married, Jade.”
He smiles innocently. Your gazes are drawn to Floyd as he approaches with empty trays. He catches your eye and grins broadly, waving in a manner so ecstatic you’d think he’s just meeting you again for the first time in years.
“I wouldn’t be so certain about a hypothetical that has yet to be proven.”
“Then, hypothetically, I marry into the Leech family. What then?”
“I believe that would make us in-laws, no?”
“Right. And, hypothetically, my dear in-law goes missing and is never found again because he can’t keep his annoying mouth shut. What then?”
“You would have quite the crime on your hands. I don’t think the sea would show you much mercy.”
Floyd’s hands clap down upon your shoulders at that moment. “Whatcha talkin’ about?”
Jade’s grin sharpens into something predatory when he looks at Floyd, who’s resting his chin on top of your head. “We were merely discussing how we might dispose of the other should (Name) marry into the family.”
“Ooh! Shrimpy’s marryin’ Jade, huh?”
You and Jade answer in unison, though your responses are very contrasting.
“That can be arranged.”
“Absolutely not!”
Floyd pinches your cheek, cooing playfully. “I wouldn’t mind it. That means I’d get to see Shrimpy all the time.”
“Although, as honored as I am to consider a future with (Name), I believe Floyd would be a much better fit for you.”
“Huh? Why me?” Floyd looks at you more closely, inspecting you with narrowed eyes, and then he barks out a high laugh. “No way, Jade. You hafta like someone if you wanna marry ‘em.”
You twist out of Floyd’s arms. “And we all have to work if we don’t want Azul on our cases!” With a huff, you snatch the trays from under Floyd’s arm and stomp off towards the kitchen, listening to the twins’ laughter as you go.
iv. “shrimpy’s rule: no knotting.”
In the days leading up to your heat, Floyd is a leech, not just in surname but in the literal sense. He’s almost always hanging around you. From working the same hours at the lounge to accompanying you to and from classes to meeting you at Ramshackle first thing in the morning, he is your shadow. It almost feels like he’s attached to you by some invisible thread and can only go so far before he’s drawn back in by way of magnetic force. You thought it was weird, but then Floyd has always been weird and so this sort of behavior isn’t uncharacteristic. Rather, it makes perfect sense for him to stick to you like a barnacle. Why, you might ask? The simple answer is that he’s found entertainment in you and isn’t going to give up until he grows bored. 
But the complex answer comes to you days before your scheduled heat, when Ace had none-too-subtly pointed out that you smell. He didn’t say you smelled funny, which had been a little soothing, but even Deuce had echoed his sentiment. You didn’t smell like yourself, they had told you. So you asked what you smelled like and without missing a beat they replied: “Like rain.”
You had laughed and then paused to consider what felt like an absurdity and then laughed again. Floyd isn’t your alpha and you’re not his omega. There shouldn’t be any reason for him to scent you. You shrug off Ace’s teasing and Deuce’s genuine curiosity in favor of focusing on your lunch. Lunch, you’ve decided, is much tastier than whatever confusion you were previously feasting on. 
Unlike last month’s heat, you’re ready for this one. You wake and attend classes as you normally would, only feeling the faintest itch of what’s to come, but by your final class you’re woozy, struggling to stay centered while the lecture goes in one ear and out the other in a string of mushed syllables. You’re not completely gone when you shuffle out of class, ignoring the whispers that are thrown around, and you only truly perk up when a familiar smell hits you head-on. 
Floyd leans against the wall, a casual smile pulling his lips apart. “My dorm or yours?”
“Yours,” you blurt, only to shake your head hastily. “No... No, not yours. Mine is better.”
He giggles and tilts his head at you. “Okaaay!”
Floyd hardly has any time to shut the door and drop your belongings on the sofa before you’re grabbing at him, clinging like a koala, and he gathers you in his arms and covers the distance to your bedroom. You’re quickly losing yourself to instinctual lust, shedding your articles of clothing as easily as you whimper his name. Floyd’s grinning as he follows your example, his eyes tracking your every movement. You flop onto your bed after you’ve discarded your rumpled uniform, skin hot and sticky with sweat and slick. Floyd’s pheromones fill the room at once, and you reach for him when he crawls on top of you, caging you between sturdy, muscled arms.
“Shrimpy smells funny again.”
“Knock it off, will you?” you spit, but the irritation doesn’t last long when you get another whiff of him and you throw your head back with an impatient sigh. “I don’t smell funny... Ace and Deuce didn’t think I smelled funny.”
“Yeah?” he prompts, palming your drenched hole, sliding two fingers past rings of wet muscle.
You shift underneath him, hissing out a breathy moan through grit teeth. “They said...” Another gasp. “They said I smelled like—” Your hands grip the sheets when he adds a third finger, lazily working you open with dexterous digits. “Like ra—aah—rain.”
“Musta been rainin’ that day.”
“N-No, you were... Your smell. You smell like—mmh. Like the rain.”
You don’t miss his tongue as it darts out to wet his lips. The lewd squelching of his fingers pumping in and out of you permeates the air, replacing any words he might have wanted to say. You shut your eyes with a blissful hum. Perhaps if you weren’t already so deep in your heat you might be able to sift through your thoughts with more coherence. But then, if you weren’t so deep in your heat, you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place, and so you probably wouldn’t get this far with your curiosity.
“Were you... Hah... Were you scenting me? I couldn’t tell because...”
Because your scent’s already so familiar.
Floyd doesn’t answer, but he does withdraw his hand and you whine low in your throat. Your displeasure is short-lived, though, for rough hands spread your thighs next, and before you know it he’s between your legs, licking a stripe up your slick-coated entrance. By instinct, you attempt to shut your legs, wanting to lock him there forever, but his hands keep you spread wide for him, and so you rest your ankles upon his shoulders while he continues to lick and nip, his razored teeth just barely scraping skin. 
Suddenly, pressing him for answers doesn’t seem like your main priority when a long, thick tongue pushes its way into you at the next moment. He hums his enjoyment, and the vibrations ripple through you like waves in a pond. It’s much better than anything you could have accomplished with just your fingers alone, and you can’t stop the noisy mewls that fall freely from your lips, breathy and pitched in a way that foretells approaching orgasm. With the way his fingertips burrow into the pudge of your thighs to the way his tongue sloppily works in and out of you, the warmth in your stomach builds to an insurmountable level, and it isn’t long until you’re tipping over the edge. You dig your fingers into teal locks, pressing him firmly against your crotch, and cum with a strangled shout. 
Floyd withdraws, his face glistening with your slick, and you shudder at both the sight of him and the faint ache of emptiness. He swipes a stray droplet from his cheek and samples it with a slow lick. You almost cum again, heat kindling within you once more. 
“Ahaaa,” he exhales giddily, pupils blown so wide they eclipse his irises. “Shrimpy’s like a fountain today!”
You lessen your grip on his hair, chest heaving as you come down from your high, and tug him back onto the bed, hurrying to swap the positions before he can grab hold of you. You fumble with his still-hardening dick, coating your fingers with your slick and attempting to pump it with awkward, inexperienced strokes. Floyd supports himself on his elbows, eyeing you as you lean down to take the head of his cock in your mouth. 
He hisses out a laugh. “Shrimpy’s not very good at this, huh?”
You want to snap at him, but all you can manage is a disgruntled scoff. You’ve entertained scenes like this in your dreams, in which you were skilled in all areas of sex, but now that you’re actually leaning over him, giving it your best effort to fit half of him in your mouth, you realize your dreams painted an ideal version of you that is not applicable to the real-world you. And that dents your pride a little. At least you can blame your sloppiness on your heat, which has you rushing through the motions in your impatience. Miraculously, your mouth manages to work some magic because his cock stiffens completely, curving up at an angle that you’re certain will hit the deepest spots within you. 
You pull off of him with a wet pop and he giggles, reaching to pinch your cheek. Swatting at his hand, you crawl over him, straddling him, and brace your hands upon his chest. Floyd watches you, his arms folded behind his head, as he lies back and allows you to do the work. Your fingers wrap around the base of his cock, holding it steady while you align the soft, fleshy head with your hole. For a tense minute, you stare at the way the tip’s kissing your slit, oozing pre-cum. Had you been less omega-brained, you might have fretted over whether something so big would even fit, but right now all you need is to be completely filled to the brim. 
Floyd unfolds his arms and rests his hands on your hips, seeming both amused and endeared to witness the emotions that shift on your face. Your eyes flick to his mismatched ones. 
“Please...” You shiver, your hands closing around his larger ones. “Please, Floyd...”
You think that might have tempted him, for you’re hit with a stronger wave of his pheromones, but the thought is knocked out of your head when he lowers you onto his cock in a way that is uncharacteristically gentle. Your nails dig into his hands as slick, gummy walls swallow inch after thick inch. He’s concentrating on the way you stretch around him, groaning through clenched teeth, and he’s not even halfway in when you cum with a desperate wail. Floyd smirks up at you and, with his nails poking your hips, slams you down in one swift motion, spearing you entirely on his cock. You cry out your relief in delighted gasps.
“I-It’s inside...” you mumble, awestruck, as you press a hand to your stomach in an attempt to feel him. “It really—haah... Really fit...”
“‘Course it did,” he says pridefully. “I knew Shrimpy could do it.”
“Shrimpy only did it because of how wet—ah!” You nearly collapse when he thrusts up suddenly, the tip of his cock hitting a sensitive spot that sends pleasurable shockwaves rattling through you. You fix him with a weak scowl, but he isn’t looking at you. He’s looking at your hand intertwined with his while the other remains on your waist, keeping you steady. You loosen your grip for a moment before curling your fingers with a confidence only fostered by your heat. “C-Can I hold it?”
“S’not goin’ anywhere.”
You stick your tongue out at him and he laughs; and soon you’re starting to smile. 
Swallowing your own heat-drunk giggles, you lift your hips slowly and ease back down onto him, shuddering at the way he fills you so completely. You do this a few more times while Floyd gleefully observes, and it isn’t long before you’re settling into a satisfying pace. He guides you up and down, watching you come undone with each steady roll of your hips. You’re a mess above him, fucking yourself silly while he meets you halfway with an occasional rough thrust, and you hold his hand so tightly you think you might tear it from his wrist. Floyd’s groans and grunts are music to your ears, spurring you onwards in your endeavors. You’re certain it’s just a byproduct of the heat, but he looks so enchanting beneath you, squeezing your hip and then reaching up to twist one of your perky nipples between his fingertips. 
“Feels good?”
“So good,” you pant, breaths hot and wet. You’re overcome with the urge to pull him up and into your arms so that you can be even closer, but you’re too focused on feeling him deeper and so you never act on the temptation. “R-Really—mmph! Really good!”
He traces patterns into your stomach, giggling breathlessly. “I can tell. Shrimpy’s squeezin’ me soooo much.”
Neither of you seem to realize the base of his cock has swelled a considerable amount, but it’s brought to your attention the next time you slam your hips down and you’re stopped by his knot. You peer at it with lidded, glassy eyes and your omega instincts flare wildly, all messy bundles of nerves fraying at the idea that that could be inside you—that it should be inside you—locking you and Floyd together. You raise your hips, inches sliding out of you gradually, and you prepare yourself to take him—knot and all—when Floyd’s hand breaks from out of your hold to grab your waist, stopping your swift descent.
“Nuh-uh,” he chides, and you growl at him, almost animalistic with anger. “Shrimpy’s rule: No knotting.”
“This is—aah... Mmh... This is different. A t-trial run. This time...doesn’t count.”
“Hee hee. Shrimpy’s gonna regret it later.”
You squirm in his hold, begging him to keep moving through whimpers and whines, and he complies with a playful whistle. 
“Please. Just once. Just once and then—”
“Mm, nope,” he says, popping the ‘P.’ 
“Floooyd...”
“Shrimpyyy.”
You sigh a sad, little sound that has Floyd’s eyes softening. His knuckle pets your cheek, oddly fond. 
“S’just the heat talking,” he reminds you, and you lean into his warm, welcoming hand. “See? Shrimpy’s just followin’ instincts.”
He slides you off of him and your hole clenches uselessly around nothing. Within seconds, he’s flipped you so that you’re lying on your back and he’s above you. His teeth flash at you, sharp and bright, wild and untamed. You sandwich his face between your palms, adoring the way nasally laughter ripples through him. You’re glad he isn’t a mirror because if he was he might reflect an expression you don’t wish to confront at this very moment. 
Floyd’s positioned himself and in one speedy thrust that nearly knocks the air from your lungs he slots himself inside, only this time you feel the overwhelming stretch of his knot as it fills you entirely, and you howl with ecstasy, linking your arms around his neck to bring him closer to your throat. Floyd moans lowly, resting his arm above your head and biting into the muscle so hard thin ribbons of blood streak from the punctures. Your chest is heaving, heart pounding out an erratic, heat-driven rhythm, and you cum around his thick knot with a strangled sob, tears running down your cheeks. 
Within just a few more tight thrusts, Floyd’s emptied his creamy load inside, and you don’t have the sobriety to consider the weight of broken rules—rules that you had specifically put in place. You listen to his soft pants as he pulls away from his arm, saliva and blood stringing from his lips, and he licks it away with a swipe of his tongue. When he attempts to slide out, your face twists in discomfort.
“Hurts...” 
“Aw. I’m sorry, Shrimpy,” he coos, adjusting your position so that he’s lying on his back and you’re resting on top of his chest, his knot still buried within you. His hand rests upon the small of your back, and he gives you a pleased, toothy grin. “Feel better now?”
“A little. Thank you,” you whisper, laying your head over his heart while the extremities of your heat ebb away, satisfied now that you’ve been properly filled and knotted by an alpha. His heart beats a steady thrum: buh-bum, buh-bum, buh-bum. The sweet scent of rain encases the both of you, easing you into a sleepy spell. You peer at the bite mark on his forearm and frown. “You bit yourself?”
“Didn’t wanna bite your neck.”
“Oh.” Your eyes flick to his, but he’s avoiding your stare, his cheeks tinged the faintest pink while he gazes at the ceiling. It’s a rare sight to see the Floyd Leech flustered and withdrawn; you wonder what’s the cause of this sudden shift in character. “You could’ve bitten anywhere else. I...wouldn’t have minded.”
“Didn’t wanna hurt you.”
“Oh.”
He’s looking at you now, the color on his cheeks fading, and a bashful smile plays at his lips. “Didn’t mean to break your rule.”
You reach up to run your fingers through his hair, petting him gently. “It’s fine. We’ll figure it out once we’re unstuck.”
His chest rumbles with laughter. “Whatcha wanna talk about ‘til then?”
“Um... Well, what’s a good stuck-together conversation topic?”
Floyd hums thoughtfully. “You like shiny stuff?”
You blink at him. “Yeah. Why?”
“Just askin,’” he says, but his eyes flash with mischief. He leans in until his nose is touching yours. “Cuz I like shiny stuff, and Shrimpy’s glowin’ right now.”
Your face warms considerably and you push him away with an embarrassed groan. His giggles are muffled in your palm. “Not when we’re stuck together...”
v. “rather, ‘honey rain’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
You’re in the process of discussing spring weather with Azul when Floyd rushes up to you, takes your hand, gently spreads your fingers open as if they’re petals, and drops something onto your palm. You expect another tooth or a stone or a crumpled flower—all items he’s been gifting you at random over the course of a few months; what you don’t expect is an eel keychain. Perhaps you should have, though. You’ve learned to expect the unexpected with Floyd.
“What’s this?”
“For you!”
“An eel...for me?”
He nods and holds up a shrimp keychain. Your face warms when the implication becomes clear.
“It’s cute. Thanks. I’ll keep it safe.”
Floyd beams at you and presses his lips to your cheek in a fleeting smooch. Just as quick as he had come, he’s retreating, skipping off in delight, his laughter echoing down the halls while he ignores your flustered shout. You know he wants you to pursue him, but you’re too embarrassed to give chase. Instead, you scrub at your cheek with a huff. He’s always kissing your cheeks and sometimes even your lips. You enjoy it too much to remind him of all the rules the both of you have since broken. They mean nothing now. 
“You certainly smell pleased,” Azul remarks with a sly smirk.
“It’s better than smelling funny.”
“Floyd still hasn’t told you what you smell like?”
“No! And it’s really annoying!” You peer at the tiny plush eel in your hands, its beady eyes and stitched smile taunting you. “It’s always ‘Shrimpy smells funny’ and never ‘Shrimpy smells like something that isn’t funny.’”
“I can assure you your scent is not at all humorous. It’s actually quite pleasant.”
“Are you just saying that to be nice, or are you saying that to be nice?”
Azul shakes his head in amusement. “Can’t I compliment a fellow omega and, most importantly, a friend?”
“Can’t you admit the truth?”
“Details, details.” He waves the dig away dismissively. “It’s no wonder Floyd fancies you so. He adores sweet things.”
“Oh, do I smell sweet then? Like candy? Or maybe like a pastry?”
“You smell like floral honey.”
“Huh. That’s...definitely not a funny scent.”
“Not at all. Rather, ‘honey rain’ has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”
You wonder if you should object. You wonder if you should try to claim that you and Floyd are still friends despite the evolution of your arrangement. Neither of you have admitted it, but it’s obvious you’ve stepped over the boundary of ‘just friends’ and have entered new territory—territory that’s so very akin to lovers.
But you only smile covertly. “Yeah, it does,” you mumble, tracing your finger over the eel’s tilted head. “It really does.”
1K notes · View notes
olivyh · 11 months
Note
Howdy do~! Since requests are open, I would like to request a fluffy fanfic in which Falena, Leona's older brother, invites Leona's female s/o to visit the palace after hearing about her from Cheka. Of course, Leona feels a little reluctant to introduce his girlfriend to his family. How will the visit play out? Thanks a lot!
A/N: thank you for the request <33 I was a little nervous about writing another Leona fic- his character is so interesting to explore but I'm always worried about him being ooc </3 this came out a lot longer than my other fics for some reason,,,, also I only have two more weeks left in the UK <//3 but that means more time & energy put into this acc <33
The beastman bites back a grumble as he tosses his phone off the side of the bed, not caring when he hears the device hit the ground with a thud and a crack. The prince turns his attention to the setting sun outside, the heat of the Savanna finally dying down and cooling down the sweat that had beaded on his skin from practice. He could hear the rest of the dorm through the thick wood of his door, wincing when he hears a shout and then something shattering.
His brother had invited him to the palace (One call and about eighty messages that he had refused to answer to), followed by about a million calls from Kifaji (the old bird really didn't know when to shut up, did he?), and, finally, a call from his sister-in-law. He could tell by the calm bite of her voice that she was no longer requesting that he bring his love to the palace- she was demanding that he do so. Leona has no choice but to begrudgingly give in to her wishes, despite the desperate clench of his heart at the thought alone.
The man rolls onto his back, taking a deep, shaky breath that rattles his chest as he throws his head back against the silk pillows and allowing the cold to seep into the back of his neck, eyes tracing over the shapes of the beams that crisscrossed his ceiling. The chill of the outside air mercilessly traces weak lines in his skin, penetrating every pore until it finds a home deep within his bones as a sudden burst of annoyance has him letting out a weak growl as he grabs a pillow and throws it as hard as possible at the wall, the fabric making contact with a soft thud as it lays limply against the wall.
"Shit," The man growls, thinking of the castle. His mind spirals, pulling and pulling until it unearths memories that he'd hidden long ago, tugging the emotions with it.
Confinement.
Isolation.
Fear.
As much as he'd hated NRC, it was his home. He couldn't imagine being forced back into that prison, decorated in intricate patterns of gold and jewels as far as the eye could see. The lock that had kept him confined was decorated in rubies and amber, the clinking would have driven him mad if he hadn't gotten out of there as soon as he could. He remembered how the cold felt there too, how it seemed to bite at any and all exposed skin, how the stars provided little comfort against the darkness of the night when his mind would wander into the shadows of the Pridelands and offer itself to the claws of his birthright.
He was free in NRC, he was free with his lover. He could be carefree, smile and nip at their shoulders playfully without the jeers of the servants and maids, without the confines of propriety looming over him. Leona wanted nothing more than to isolate them from that world he grew so accustomed to.
"Leona?" His door creaks open, and he rolls over, raising an eyebrow.
"What is it?" He grumbles, staring at the figure of the human slowly approaching his bedside. In the darkness he could make out their smile, soothing the ache within him for a moment as they slowly place their knee on the edge of his bed, raising their hand and brushing some of his sweat-soaked hair off of his forehead. They don't flinch at the feeling.
"I was going to ask you to shower, but," They finally sit beside him, rubbing a warm hand over his shoulder gently. "What's wrong?"
They were so soft with him that he felt as though he would rather die sometimes, their feather-light touch reminiscent of the reverential touch upon blown glass or the petals of a flower. Not the touch of a second-born prince cursed with the touch of destruction.
Not that he wanted them to stop, ever.
"Kipenzi," He mumbles the pet name quietly, despite how loud the rumble of his deep baritone seems to rock the air around the couple. "My family wants to meet you." The excited look that flashed in their eye for a moment breaks his heart, even more so at the crestfallen look that falls over their face not even a moment later. The silence in the room is deafening, as though the insects and animals outside the dorm had been just as shocked by the statement as his lover.
"How do you feel about it?" They ask after a moment. Leona freezes.
"I have to bring you. I don't have a choice anymore," The beastman grabbed the hand that rested on his shoulder and pressed a chaste kiss to their open palm. When they'd first started dating he wouldn't have ever dared to do such a thing. What a fool they make of him. A lovesick fool.
"You do," The mutter. Leona can't bring himself to meet their eyes, opting to stare blankly at the way their shirt fits around their torso, memorizing every crease of the fabric. "I don't have to go."
An odd part of him yearns for them to tell him that they wanted to go, for them to see the place that made him the man in front of them, a reasoning behind what he really is and what will never be- a future that he wanted neither of them to be a part of.
"Cheka misses you," He knew he wasn't a lie, but he knew for sure that nobody had told him that. It was likely the little rat that told his brother about his lover. "We should go for him."
He feels the way the air shifts around him with their smile as they lightly pull way their hand, the lion biting back a disgruntled huff at the loss of warmth.
"Let's go, then," They sit up. "You need to shower first."
"Make me."
"I'll join."
Leona chuckles. "Deal."
The next morning crept through the open windows, the sun gleaming almost painfully against his eyelids as he slowly remembered what would be transpiring that day. His lover seemed to be much more excited about this trip than he was, so he forced himself to bite back any bitter comments. He passed through the mirror in a blur, settling in as they meet in the center of the square, whisked away in a split second by a chauffeur and sent flying off towards the palace.
"I'm sorry," He mumbles to them quietly in the backseat, his tail making its way around their wrist and holding it firmly. "I wanted you to do some sightseeing."
"No worries," They smile up at him, eating away at his guilt. He knew he was being stubborn, and that he was shutting down again.
Please, he begged his mind, not now. Anytime but now.
"I missed you so, so, so much!" They didn't even have a minute to step out of the car properly before Cheka had sped his way over to the couple, wrapping his arms around the human's legs affectionately and blinking up at them with round, deep chocolate-brown eyes.
"Hi, Cheka!" They chirp, crouching so they could hug the young prince properly, nuzzling the top of his hed affectionately. "I missed you too, little guy!"
Leona bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a familiar warmth blossom in his chest. It was no secret that he cared deeply for his nephew- despite how often he shoved him away and called him a pest. It was a secret, however, how much he adored the relationship between his lover and the young boy, how their friendship grew and developed the more time they spent together. Cheka had told Leona once that he'd considered them to be in the same position as Leona- family, and a mentor, and a playmate.
"Come on! Baba's waiting inside!" The small cub tugs at their arms, leaving servants to unpack their bags from the car and lug them into the palace. He can't help but notice how the human's footsteps waver as they enter the building, in awe of the intricate tapestries and the sheer size of the place. The grand entry hall was lined with statues made of pure iron and draped in golds and silvers, the multicolored gemstones that hung from their necks cast splinters of color through the hall as they caught the sunlight and threw it.
The wide, open windows adorning the hall and framed in exquisite silk curtains that hung loosely to the ground let in the harsh sunlight of the savanna and allowed them to see over the vast swaths of land that the Kingscholars ruled over, houses and builds as far as the eye could see. Servants bowed to the Prince and his lover, lowering their heads as they turned their eyes to the floor.
Leona couldn't help but notice the way they tensed at the action, walking ever-so-slightly closer to the beastman. He leans over, careful of any prying ears.
"You okay?" They bite their lip and gulp, looking straight ahead of them and nodding. He grabs their hand in his own, noticing how their palms were slick with sweat as a chill settled on their fingertips despite the heat. "Don't be scared by it. It's all just a show." His voice sends a noticeable chill up their spine, which, under normal circumstances, he would take pride in being able to tease them with his voice alone. Now, however, it worried him more than anything.
Another nod and an affirmative squeeze from the beastman, a promise of more comfort once they were away from the countless eyes of the servants and other visiting nobles.
The doors to the greeting room swing open, and Leona feels the way their grip tightens upon seeing his brother and wife standing at the end of the long carpet, framed by the backs of their thrones.
"Glad you could make the trip, kaka mdogo," Farena states plainly, a grateful smile dancing onto his lips as Leona scoffs slightly, nodding towards the man. "I suppose this is your lover, then?"
He nods and takes a step forward, gently pulling the nervous human with him.
"Yeah, this is them," He says, rather informally in contrast to the air that the King and Queen give off. Out of the corner of his eye he can see them smile up at him softly, their grip on his hand loosening in the slightest.
His brother's wife steps closer to them and Leona feels torn- the nervous look on their face made his heart scream to protect them and hold them close, but he was also terrified of angering the lioness. He opts to stand next to them, frozen.
She gingerly lifts a hand. "May I?" They nod and she places her hand on their cheek. "Relax, sweetheart."
Her soft tone- the same tone she uses when she speaks to Cheka oftentimes, Leona notices- seems to work wonders on them as they take a shaky breath, smiling nervously. "You're stunning." she chuckles. "It's no wonder Leona fell for you."
"T-thank you, Your Highness," They sputter, flushing a bit under the attention.
"Shani works fine, my dear," She corrects softly, backing away for a moment. "Please, no need to be so nervous. You're practically family now."
Family.
The word seemed to hang in the air for a moment, still as it hovered just out of reach of Leona's fluffy ears atop his head. Was that it? It was strange, he hardly felt as though he were a Kingscholar himself. However...
Hearing they could become one made his heart race, imagining their first name paired with his last. Their form, which he had grown to love so deeply. He misses the second half of the conversation, too lost in his own mind to even notice the way his nephew clung to his legs and tried to grab at his tail.
"Come now, we prepared an early dinner," The woman motions for the human to walk beside her. They look to him, an uncertain look in their eye as he uses a similar hand motion, silently telling them that he's right behind them.
His chair was too far from theirs at the elaborate table, too much food and too much space for a fairly small gathering, the dining hall was meant for larger groups. The other end of the table felt desolate and cold, a lifetime away from the warmth of the top of the table. Leona remembered how he would sit at that far end with his mother, and his father would sit on the other end with Farena.
"-Oh, he was such a dear-" The man in question chuckles, sending a warm glance at his younger brother, who focuses more on mindlessly stirring the liquid in his cup. "He would often come into my room when we were younger, you see-"
"Farena," Leona begins, a warning note slipping onto the end of his words like a weight.
"Please, Leona," The man's words would be a plea, if not for the shifting of power underneath the breaths that escaped his mouth. "Jokes aside, we truly are glad that Leona had finally found a lover, I was truly beginning to worry."
"You think I was that hopeless?" The younger prince snarls.
"I wouldn't say hopeless," Shani places a firm hand on her husband's shoulder, a frown on her face. "Uninterested, I would say."
His human giggles, casting a teasing glance over at Leona as his frown deepens. The pull of the longing for solitude begins to eat away at his heart, his mind racing to gather any sort of excuse to finish the dinner as quickly as possible.
"I'm glad I managed to catch his interest," They begin.
"How did the two of you meet? I can imagine it was rather difficult to meet, seeing that you're quite different," The King begins.
"They stepped on my damn tail when I was trying to take a nap," Leona shoots a sly grin over at them, a little embarrassed at being questioned in front of his entire family. Minus-
"It wasn't my fault!" They deny, taking a small sip of water.
"I'm sure there's a dent there somewhere."
"Is there really?" Cheka asks quietly, voice breaking towards the end in near terror. "Can that happen?"
"No, my love," The Queen comforts the boy, casting him a short smile. "It was an exaggeration."
"Then they snuck into my room and disturbed my sleep. I had to put them in their place somehow," He glances over to the flustered human.
"N-not in that way, your Majesties. There were issues at my dorm-"
"Keep tellin' yourself that," He could see the way their eyebrows furrow on their forehead as the shade decorating their face darkens more by the minute. They eat in silence after that, occasionally filling the space with other questions- mostly of their life at NRC and their family. The second prince detested his forgetfulness as he noticed the quake in their voice when they spoke of the home they could not return to. The King and Queen seem to notice
"Cheka," He hears his lover say softly. Leona's gaze travels over to them as they lean far off their chair, far enough that if the armrest weren't there they would be tumbling to the ground. Their hand was extended, gently wiping off the juice that the boy had spilled down his chin as it dripped onto his shirt, staining the expensive fabric. "Here, sweetheart." Their tone was gentle, loving as they wiped at his chin with the napkin. The boy looks up at them, beaming, the gap from his missing tooth only serving to add to the wide-eyed gaze of the young prince (Leona vaguely remembers the boy excitedly telling him about the missing tooth over a video call, brandishing the tooth like a trophy as he held it a little too close to the camera for the man's liking).
Something about the way they treated him with such kindness, a gentleness compared to the reprieve of a soft breeze on a hot day. Leona practically feels the ghost of their fingertips against his flushed skin, a chill down his spine.
In that moment, it was as though a door had opened. Every day and every night- sometimes within the palace, others in a place of their own far, far from the Afterglow Savana- with them, with his family, a concept that was foreign to him. Just as untouchable as the fairytales trapped within the Royal Library.
There weren't many times that Leona could say he was jealous of Ruggie, but hearing the kindness of his grandmother and the close bond of his neighborhood would often cause Leona's ears to twitch in agitation, envy creeping up his spine.
Now he felt as though he had it.
"It's getting late," Leona mutters, standing. "Come on, I want you to meet someone else."
They nod and stand, bidding the others goodbye as they follow him down the hallway, into a darker corner of the palace. Tapestries line the walls as they approach a room, a dark wooden door decorated in gold embellishments. Leona slowly knocks, the sound of the bed creaking followed by a hoarse voice sounding from within.
"Baba," Leona mutters.
"Leona? Mwanangu?" The King sits up, long gray hair frames his aged face, lines with wrinkles and scars from days past. The dulled spark within his deep brown eyes- the same as Farena's and Cheka's- fills the beastman in front of him with a deep sadness.
"Yes, Baba," Leona grabs his lover's hand and leads them inside, only letting go to pull up two chairs by the man's bedside. "It's me. I bought my partner, too." His voice had taken on the soft tone he often used with his dying father (Leona didn't want to consider him dying, but seeing the weariness in his eyes and the tremors of his wrinkled hands made him believe otherwise). The man's eyes wearily travel over to the human before them. Leona thought it would have been poetic should they have been in a novel of sorts, or perhaps one of the cheesy movies he claims to hate so much.
A fallen king, a lost human, and a second-born prince.
For a moment the man is silent, the human's worried gaze turning more and more tearful by the minute. They only have to wait a second before Leona winds his tail around their wrist, pulling it to lay in his lap so he could play with their hands, just the way he knows they like it.
"What a lovely little human," The old king finally speaks, lines on his face deepening with the toothy grin that breaks loose- a shadow of his strength, Farena told him once. "You have kind eyes, child."
"T-thank you..." They mumble, ducking their head slightly.
"Tell me," The man chuckles, raspy voice a whisper against the commotion of the savannah outside. "Has my son been treating you well?"
"Baba-"
His human smiles, before breaking into laughter. "Better than I could have ever imagined."
"I'm glad."
As the two talk, Leona feels a comfort seep into the cracks of his heart, filling the void that was once there. It spreads through his chest. His father- the strongest man he knew- and his human- the loveliest person he'd ever been given the privilege to meet, let alone hold- talking so casually, about him no less.
The time passes too quickly for Leona's liking. The beastman would have rathered the second creep by like they do during his lectures, or in the way they do when he's alone at night without the warmth of his lover beside him. However, the king is tired. Leona knows better than to hold his father any longer than physically possible.
Once out in the hallway, the human sighs and practically collapses against the wall, holding up their trembling hands. Leona chuckles, stepping closer to them and casting them in his shadow- an act that, at first, appeared intimidating now served as a means of protection as he hid them from the world and sacrificed himself to be their shield.
He feels as though he's lost control as he steps closer, prompting them to gaze up at him with those tender eyes that he adores so much. Any unlucky spectator would think he was annoyed when they wrapped their arms around his broad shoulders, but the two of them knew better, The annoyed quirk of his brow spoke a silent 'don't stop', the swish of his tail was merely to stop it from wrapping around their waist and pulling them impossibly closer.
He can't stop his arms when he places his calloused hands on their hips, pressing them flush against him.
"Leona-" They mutter, burying their face in the crook of his neck. "The servants-"
"We're all alone here," He chuckles under his breath, lowering his head so his breath brushes against their ear with every syllable. If he wanted to, he could scrape his fangs against their earlobe to fluster them further.
He was in no teasing mood for that, his main goal to find an outlet for this swell of affection that seemed to make his heart burst.
Leaning closer, he presses a warm kiss to their temple. He moves down more, giving extra attention to the tip of their nose and the gentle curve of their cheek. He finally presses a deep kiss to their lips, finally able to spill out what had been building over the course of the day; All the 'I love you's that went unsaid; every single moment they made him feel so damn soft.
"Ninakupenda," He gasps softly when they part for air, engraving their flushed expression in his mind. He feels their hands trail through his hair, taking a lock and twirling it in their fingers as they beam up at him.
"Ninakupenda, my king."
729 notes · View notes
chiliyue-archived · 9 months
Text
One more kiss or maybe three
↬sometimes Riddle needs the reminder to rest
Tumblr media
Includes; Riddle Rosehearts
GN!Reader
Tags; early bday gift for @cupids-chamber but anyone can read it <3
[Twst M.List] ♡
-
Clack clack clack
The sound of pen meeting paper, you came to learn, was rather obnoxious when listening to the same drone again and again and again. What hour was it now? You'd had lost sense of time as minutes molded into an impeccably long hour.
Your scarlet lover was a busy one, you couldn't hold it against him for the hefty amount of duties he had to perform now and again; however, such responsibilities kept you waiting beyond the hours of twilight just so you can bid a goodnights rest with him by your side.
Riddle Rosehearts would scoff at this behavior, finding it rather unhealthy(while he himself failing to recognize the hypocrisy in his words). His mouth would move in slow drawls, urging you to sleep in his absence and that he mustn't keep you from your subconscious.
" My rose, it is unwise to force yourself awake. Please get some sleep. I will join you soon." The words left him nonchalantly, his eyes stilling on the words dipped within the parchment. He moved his pen to position it upon the page, gliding it with ease whilst his free hand fiddled with spare documents.
Such concerns would fall on deaf ears and a cordial, " It's alright, I can wait," would slip from your lips. And such responses would coax a tingle of guilt to gnaw on Riddle's mind.
He truly felt awful for keeping you awake at late hours for his own needs, but a dormleaders' work is an upmost task. Even at the betrayal of his desires.
Tonight, his workload just happened to more than usual, he wasn't fond of it of it but it couldn't be helped.
However, while also acting upon the role of leadership, he also had to uphold his role - arguably similar in prestige - his academic studies. Normally, the Roseheart boy would plow through his paperwork and coursework with ease albeit with droopy eyes and buckling knees at the end of it - however, for reasons he struggled to fathom, his duties only doubled that week. His mother would certainly be displeased.
You were not blind to the way his shoulders sagged with each document he filed away, his fingers becoming sluggish, and the writing was starting to become ineligible. Nor did you turn a blind eye to small yawns he gave or the way his eyes flickered to the clock - a look of disappointment would flash on his features at just how much time has passed. And how much work was still left. It was evident in his stature, dropping with the weight of gravity.
"Perhaps we should turn in for the night." You mumbled your concerns, vacating the seat and instead coming to lean beside him. From this new angle, you could clearly see the bags in his eyes, taunting him in a display of mockery. The temptation to kiss it away was compelling, and your knuckle went to brush aside his stray strands.
Though your lover was the stubborn one, it didn't surprise you when he replied; " I will finish here soon, but please get some rest yourself."
Despite his laud achievements, even he couldn't suppress the urge to recline against your touch as your fingers ran along his sculp. A hum escaped him the more your nails lightly slaved to rose colored strands. And while he's been privy to such actions many times before, a light pink nonetheless doused his cheeks, deepening the longer your ministrations persisted.
You couldn't help but grin when he placed the mountain pen down, his eyes squeezing shut soon following. In a show of tenderness, a gloved hand reached out for your own.
Muscle memory kicked in, his lips pressing to the flat of your hand like he had done so, so many times at unbirthday parties. It still made his heart quake in a candor he struggled to scribe words upon - but it made his stomach tumble over a stirring of emotions.
He came to associate those emotions with a sense of warmth. It tickled and squeezed his heart far more than anything else did, and the feeling was palpable even long after your touch withdrew. It was embedded in hot streaks, cascading down his spine and coaxing mild shivers in his wistful reminiscent moments. It was unsavory how it would soon fade away, merciless to time - however, he never had to wait too long until he felt your familiar touch once again.
Silver eyes glanced at the ticking clock. It was terribly late indeed.
A sigh of resignation slipped him - and that's how you knew you won. " I suppose I should credit myself some leisure time." His murmur came out more to himself than to you and his head dipped in consideration.
A silence shrouded over the room. Before long, his gaze directed back to you, cheeks stretching to accommodate a gentle smile.
He was still getting used to that - smiling. For something so humane, it felt oddly alienated to him. But he was slowly familiarizing himself with it. He noted how the gesture was always flickered to his lips when he was in your presence. Smiles were associated with joy or some form of saccharine feeling. You had always filled him with vitality, so it only made sense.
He can't clearly recall when he last smiled prior to attending the school. His mind went vacuous whenever he called upon the memory. He does, however, remember having a nose stuck within a book at all times with his mother's voice in the background.
Still, the emotions you stirred meandered in a questioning trail. The abstruse truth was far from his knowledgeable mind, but he wasn't too frightened by that.
His reverie halted as your hands peeled him away from his desk, lightly tugging off the accessories that clung to his person. Afterward, you gave Riddle the time to properly dress into his night clothing.
You were already in bed when you felt the mattress dip in weight. Instinctively, his body arched to meet yours, hands - now freed from its gloves - moving around your waist. His pulse echoed in his ear as your chest pressed against his own, your head finding solace on his shoulder.
The gaze you sent him heated his body far more than the thick blanket did. It was punctuated by the fanning of your breathing - caressing his collarbone at regular intervals. Without realizing it, his hand had gravitated to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered. He didn't want to lose your touch just yet.
" Can I get a goodnight kiss?" He chatised himself with how shy his voice left him; however, it complimented the reddening of his cheeks even in the poorly lit setting.
You laughed softly to yourself, your "of course" barely audible. Leaning up, you pressed your lips to his carefully - he still had the faint sweet taste of jam from earlier. Riddle's hand traveled down to the dip of your back, holding you in place even as you withdrew.
" Another one, please?"
He was terribly pliant to your kisses despite being unable to admit it outloud. Even your touches yielded a similar effect and even more so your words. His penchant to your affection was unmatched, and your love felt like slices of dessert. His stomach grows full yet perpetually more greedy for each taste. And his heart feels even fuller in yearning of you. Just you.
He has heard a saying before that home was where the heart is. When envisioning home, his hometown residence always came to his mind in full clarity. The same place that stripped him of his empathy and tailored him to a life curated not by his own wants but his mother's.
And yet, he was also greeted by your gentleness. Reconstructing his marred understanding of emotions with patience and rewarding him with your love - even when he was greatly so undeserving of it.
As you press pecks along his warming cheeks, Riddle couldn't help but wonder if home was where you were. You had ownership of his heart, that much was certain. And you cradled it gently even when his demons surfaced.
And for a second, he pondered how much of a future he held with you. He questioned how much of his reverie was fatuous thinking as a means of satisfying his heart and how much it would be truly possible. Selfishly, he made a silent plead for it to be latter.
But for now, he centered his foucs back to you. For right now home was with you in this bed - smothering him kisses and leaving him breathless until sleep eventually overtook him.
He hopes to have you in his dreams.
-
A/n; sorry if this is just a bleh of words. I've been writing for the past idk hours. Poorly proofread too
Feedback is appreciated !!
Anyways, happy birthday, love/p. I hope this made you smile:)
522 notes · View notes
milksnake-tea · 1 year
Text
5 + 1
"The 5 times he thought he loved you, and the 1 time he knew."
rollo flame x gn!reader
contains: fluff, pining (a lot of it like oh my god), strangers to friends to lovers, rollo being emotionally constipated, lots of POV changes, slight spoilers for rollo's backstory
word count: 6.3k
note: i can't defend myself </3 my legacy is just rollo at this point and i can't stop it
tags: @crysangria
———
Rollo doesn’t fall in love.
He’s well aware of its existence; the City of Flowers is renowned for its rather romantic aspects. Since the beginning of time, newly budding couples somehow always managed to hide in every corner of the city - tucked away from the overall public, but obvious enough for any local. Anyone who’s lived in the city for longer than a month learns to avoid the bridges, the alleyways, and of course, any bench at night.
While he has never understood the reasonings behind lovers’ touches and dreamy stares, even Rollo is unable to deny that the affections they displayed didn’t sound so bad… If he didn’t spend his first year in the city running into couples making out at every corner.
Noble Bell was no different.
In his three years at the institution, Rollo had quickly become accustomed to scolding the couples he found in the closets, under the staircases, and in empty classrooms. He learned to tune out the swoonings and fawnings that even his fellow council members fell victim to. 
When his peers fell in and out of love, Rollo remained impartial - a stone-cold statue of a president, unswayed by human emotion.
That was, until he met you.
—[1]—
A friend of a friend, that was who you were. A fellow third year who stayed just under the radar: never aiming too high, but never stooping too low. Just another face in the crowd, no one whom he would need to ever speak with.
The first time he sees you is in the library, during a study session between him, his secretary, and his vice president. Despite being part of the student council and already having a lot on their shoulders, Rollo’s top priority was education - and naturally, he would not let his peers fall.
It was obvious from the way their table was isolated that no one dared to even be near them. There were three other chairs at the table, but not a single soul dared to touch them, even if the library was overrun due to the upcoming exams.
Well, apparently you were not one of those souls.
“Um… Excuse me, is this seat taken?”
Even if your voice was silenced to a whisper, the library’s murmurs skidded to a halt, as though someone had pressed a pause button. Suddenly, it was as if everyone in the world was holding their breath, their piercing gazes lining your back. Even Rollo’s friends looked afraid for your safety, his secretary giving you the most incredulous of looks.
And if asking to sit at their table wasn’t bad enough, you’d made the poor choice to choose the seat directly next to Rollo himself.
You were already regretting your decision, but you’d already committed to the act. Right now, your need to study was stronger than your fear of Rollo, and you were not going to join the poor souls on the floor.
Rollo was probably the only one who seemed unaffected by your request. He only glanced up from his paper for a moment, his striking green eyes meeting your own before he gave you a curt nod and returned to his work.
To say he was surprised was an understatement. His shock only deepened when you sat down, unloading your bag and taking out all of your study materials after a quick wave to his secretary. In only three minutes, you had settled into your work - as if you weren’t sitting next to the most feared and respected man in all of Noble Bell.
It was refreshing.
Soon enough, the library forgot you, and the hushed whispers rose back up again - both with gossip and with the frustrated grumblings of struggling students. As Rollo reviewed his lessons, studiously jotting down important notes and underlining key concepts, he couldn’t help but find his gaze drifting over to you.
Although you didn’t say anything (why would you, you were in a library), he could tell that you were stressed - even more so than usual. The frustration in your eyes was one that he was familiar with, the eraser shavings and the scrambled calculations a key signal that you were having trouble. 
Looking at what you were struggling with, he recognized the practice test for your upcoming chemistry test. Being the responsible student council president he was, he naturally stepped in to assist.
“You forgot to use the formula.”
“Huh.” You startled, your voice coming out strained and irritated at the sudden interruption. Rollo points at your calculations.
“Look here,” he explained, pointing at the rate table. “When they give you the Kc, the temperature, and the balanced equation, you use this to find Kp.”
Without any sense of shame, he reaches over and writes a formula next to your calculations. His handwriting is absurdly neat - almost as though it had been printed. You blank at the formula, recognizing it as the one you’d learned in the first lesson of this unit.
You groan in frustration as you erased your writing one more time. “By the Seven… I’m so stupid.”
“Don’t belittle yourself,” Rollo comments offhandedly, returning to his notes. “It happens to the best of us. Rather than a matter of intelligence, it’s an issue in memory and sleep deprivation.”
“You’re the one with eyebags,” you instinctively mutter. Instantaneously, the world freezes as you register your snip. Your eyes widen, and you’re already spewing apologies while Rollo stands still, caught off guard. “Sorry, that wasn’t my-”
“Are you always this straightforward with strangers?” he asks, and without thinking, you shoot back a retort.
“No, are you?” Immediately, you slap a hand over your mouth, horrified. “Oh my God, I am so sorry-”
His face is turned away from you, but you swear that you caught the corners of his lips twitching - quirking up into the slightest of smiles. “Be careful with your words.”
“O-Of course," you sigh. “My bad.” 
“Take care not to do it again.” Just as quickly as it came, Rollo’s smile disappeared, returning to neutrality. Perhaps he had never smiled at all. Thinking logically, you’re more inclined to believe the latter option.
Even his fellow council members are shocked. Rollo raises a brow at the way you rub your eyes, trying to make sense of what you saw. You’re so expressive, unlike the other students who kept it all hidden behind a mask of professionalism. It was refreshing, endearing even.
“You’d better get back to work now,” he advises (although it sounds like an order), his pen moving once more. “Exams are not meant to be taken lightly.”
“Right,” you mutter. Rollo’s eyes crinkle at the blatant distaste on your face as you reluctantly return to chemistry. You weren’t the only student who hated studying, far from it, but you were definitely the most open about it - especially in front of Rollo, who was infamous for his strict personality.
It’s not long before you test the waters and lightly tug at Rollo’s sleeve. Wordlessly, he glances over, and you show him your newly formed calculations - almost like a child showing off their newest drawing to their parents.
“Is this right?”
Rollo peers over at your shoulder, scanning the work you’ve written. He nods in satisfaction, looking over at you with something akin to pride.
“Good work,” he praises.
“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. You smile up at him. “It’s mainly because you helped me, though. So thanks for that, President.”
“Just Rollo is fine,” he assures calmly. You blink.
“You sure?”
“I prefer my name rather than my status,” Rollo explains. You hum in understanding.
“Gotcha. Thanks, Rollo.”
Rollo’s pen stills. You shoot him a questioning look, but he brushes it off and continues studying. He didn’t expect you to say it so easily - maybe he’d thought you’d be more hesitant.
But he doesn’t hate it. 
Rather, a small part of him finds that he rather likes the way his name rolls off your tongue.
—[2]—
You don’t expect to see Rollo again after that encounter, but it seems that fate had other plans.
Magical History wasn’t your favorite class, but it wasn’t the worse. You didn’t mind learning about the wars and inventions, and if anything, that made it all the more interesting to you. But your favorite part of it was how different people took up different sides and perspectives on each part of history.
You tapped your pencil impatiently against your notebook, eyes flicking from the chalkboard and to the clock. Class wasn’t starting for another five minutes, but you were anxious to get started. Today’s lecture was primarily for review, and Lord knows you needed it.
You glance over when someone sits next to you, only to choke on your spit when you see it’s Rollo Flamme himself. You rapidly scan the lecture hall, only to become more confused when you see that there was a multitude of seats open - in fact, the room was rather vacant.
“At ease,” Rollo says, his monotone voice not helping him in the slightest. You cough, smiling at him weakly. Suddenly, his tall stature was all the more apparent. “The view from here is the best in the room.”
“Yep…” You rub your arms awkwardly, suddenly cold despite the warm uniform you don. Now you were really praying that your teacher would show up quicker.
“Are you alright?” Rollo asks, noticing your demeanor. The subtle concern in his voice would’ve surprised you if you weren’t already freaked out of your wits. “Are you perhaps cold?”
“Nope!” You hastily reply, startling him with your raised voice. “I’m just peachy.”
“Peachy?” Rollo questions, but it seems like the Seven had been looking over you that day. You’ve never been more relieved in your life to see your teacher, today’s savior, walking through the door.
You have no idea how you manage to focus on the lecture with Rollo right next to you. Just his presence enough is intimidating, suffocating even, as though he was watching, judging your every move. He doesn’t even do anything special - he’s just listening to the lecture like every other student.
Sometimes, you think you see him staring at you, but whenever you look over, he’s quick to avert his gaze. It’s almost impressive, and you almost say something about it - except even you know better than to antagonize the student council president during a lecture.
For the first half hour of the lecture, you’re stuck in this state of constant edge, barely able to relax with this 6-foot giant practically looming over your shoulder. He wasn’t even doing anything in particular, but he didn’t need to. Just being there is enough to put you into fight-or-flight mode.
Sometimes you wonder if he’s just a sadist and likes watching you squirm.
You’re very correct.
Rollo’s only half paying attention to the lecture - he knows all of the content already. Rather, he finds entertainment and peeking over at you, seeing you freeze and stiffen up whenever you catch him in the act. It’s a game of cat and mouse for him, something he finds adorable.
“Why do you keep staring at me?” you whisper from the corner of your mouth. Rollo raises a brow.
“We shouldn’t be talking in class,” he replies simply, pretending to be paying attention. You roll your eyes.
“Nice dodge,” you scoff playfully, and Rollo smiles. It’s not much - just a quirk of the lips, so small that you’d have to squint to see it. It’s a smile whose warmth is subdued, like a little match in a snowstorm. You can’t put your finger on it; it’s almost like fondness, except that doesn’t sound right for the Rollo Flamme.
"You’re smiling," you state the obvious. Yet there's a certain awe in it - someone would've thought that Rollo had grown two heads by the way you were looking at him.
Rollo’s pen stops in its movements. He seems to lag for a moment, surprised and unsure, before his lips straighten and he’s back to normal.
“Is there an issue?”
“No,” you laugh. The initial fear you had felt has dissipated. Rollo’s smile, despite being so small you'd have to look at it through a microscope, was still a smile. “Just didn’t expect it from you, y’know? Since you’re all big and serious around here.”
“I see,” Rollo says quietly, turning away. If it weren’t for his stone-cold face, you would’ve compared him akin to a kicked puppy.
“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” you say. “I think it looks nice on you.”
Rollo remains silent, but the slight widening of his eyes is key enough. It's enough to bring a smile onto your face as you return your attention to the lecture.
Rollo doesn’t say anything after that, but he doesn’t need to. Any tension that had existed between you two had evaporated, the invisible wall opening its gates. Your body has visibly relaxed, and you’re able to fully concentrate on the lesson again.
In the corner of your eye, although you’re almost certain you imagine it, you think you see Rollo’s eyes soften.
—[3]—
When you’re not studying your sanity away at school, you’re working.
You work part-time at one of the many bakeries in the City of Flowers, famed for their pastries. You also sell coffee and tea for the many tired students from the college (such as yourself), so you’re used to seeing many of your classmates coming in the morning.
Around a month has passed since your little moment with Rollo. To put it simply, the two of you have gotten closer.
Studying together in the library became a common occurrence as you found yourself frequenting Rollo’s table more often. Apparently, Rollo’s standards wouldn’t let you study in peace, so he opted to personally tutor you to appease his own state of mind. In his own words, he couldn’t stand by and watch a classmate struggle in front of him.
Safe to say, Rollo was a strict teacher. He wasn’t afraid to point out the inconsistencies in your work, and often gave you tips on what to do. You were afraid that he’d get irritated with how much you overthought everything, but the most he’d give you would be a gentle tug on the cheek whenever you got ahead of yourself.
You look over at your shoulder at the modules you had left to complete. Thankfully, the number of papers had drastically decreased, thanks to a certain someone. Unknowingly, a smile slips onto your face at the thought of him.
The bell rings, and you’re immediately in work mode. You plaster on a customer service smile, straightening behind the counter.
“Hello, how can I help you- Oh hey, Rollo!” Your face breaks out in a grin at the sight of your study partner. “What’re you doing here?”
Honestly, it’s weird to see him without that uniform of his. Seeing him in a casual turtleneck and coat feels almost illegal, like you’re looking at something that only certain people should see.
“Oh, it’s you,” he briefly acknowledges, bright green eyes meeting your own before scanning the vast amount of display pastries. A month ago, you would’ve taken his apathetic greeting as coldness. But having been in his presence for quite a while now, you’ve learned to pick up the smallest of ques.
“Can I get you anything?”
Rollo tears his eyes away from the tempting pastries. “A medium black coffee, please.”
You nod, nimble fingers already moving to ring him up. “Will that be all?”
“Yes,” Rollo confirms, digging into his coat pocket for his wallet. As you tell him the price, you take out a coffee cup, writing Rollo’s name on it in sharpie. Turning your back to him, you opt to add a little message alongside it.
While you make the coffee, Rollo sets himself down in the corner of the bakery, taking out his study materials. You don’t miss the way his eyes linger on the croissants, almost longingly. In the back of your head, you remember one of your conversations (you’d tried distracting him so that you could get a break. It lasted 3 minutes).
“So, what kind of food do you eat?”
“The same as everyone else.”
“No, like when you’re out. You know, like in your free time?”
“Oh. I suppose… Croissants. I’m rather fond of them.”
“Eh, makes sense.”
You figure that he’d probably skipped breakfast again, knowing him. Apparently, breakfast was optional to him. Despite being only 18, Rollo was already living the life of an overworked salaryman, always worried about his council and studying his life away.
But being the good friend you were, you weren’t letting that slide. Rollo was going to take care of himself, whether he liked it or not.
“Rollo?”
Right on cue, he stands up, walking to the counter to retrieve his drink. By all means, you give it to him, but right before he leaves, you call out to him.
“Oh, you forgot this!” 
Rollo’s brows crinkled at your exclaim. How could he have forgotten anything? The only thing he ordered was currently in his hands right now. Still, he returns to the counter, ready to call you out on your mistake.
He doesn’t get the chance to.
You press something wrapped and warm into his free hand. Looking down, Rollo’s pleasantly surprised with a freshly baked croissant. He jerks his face up to meet your gaze, confusion written all over his typically stoic face. It’s nice, to finally surprise him for a change.
“I know you didn’t eat breakfast today,” you explain cheerfully, leaning on your forearms on the bakery counter. “You didn’t think I would let you spend your day with just a coffee in your stomach, did you?”
“I can’t take this,” Rollo protested, already moving to hand you back the croissant. You click your tongue.
“Nope, you are,” you push his hand back. His hands are cold, you note. “It’s on the house, trust me. And if the owners have a problem with it, I can always pay for you.”
“But-”
“No buts,” you smile cheekily up at him, propping your head onto your hand. Rollo’s ears flush at just the tips. “I know you want it anyways, so stop being stubborn and just take the thing, okay? It’s fine, don’t worry.”
Rollo stares at you, conflict flickering in his eyes. To an outsider, he’s outright glaring at you, but you know there’s no malice. 
You can already imagine the inner turmoil fighting in his mind. On one hand, he wants the croissant - he’s been eyeing it for a good ten minutes - and he’s hungry. On the other hand, his moral righteousness won’t let him take anything without paying.
But in the end, his hunger (and you) wins him over. He sighs, reluctantly giving in.
“If you insist,” he says cooly, ignoring the way his heart pounds in his chest. “I’d best be going now. I’ll see you in class.”
“See you,” you wave, straightening yourself. Rollo turns to leave, but right before he does, you hear a faint murmur.
“Oh, and… thank you. For the croissant.”
—[4]—
“Every day, without fail, the president climbs the tower to clean the Bell of Salvation.”
It’s pouring outside when you remember the words of your friend, Rollo’s secretary. Looking outside your dorm’s window, the streets are dark as rain cascades from the sky and onto the city. Even from inside your warm room, you can feel the cold from the outside.
You can’t help but wonder if Rollo was also out there, still cleaning that Bell.
You wouldn’t put it past him, to be honest. That man was nothing if not a workaholic. Your friends in the student council had told you of how he spent countless all-nighters just to put together school events, and that wasn’t including his work as a student. But you didn’t need them to tell you any of that. Rollo’s constant eyebags and coffee addiction told you plenty enough.
You sigh to yourself, leaning onto the window. Your friend notices your sulking, sighing to himself as he walks over. You’ve been like that for a good twenty minutes now.
“President Flamme will be fine,” he says, sitting across the windowsill from you. “He always is.”
“In this weather?” you ask, barely sparing him a glance. “He’d catch a cold before he gets any cleaning done.”
“You’d be surprised,” your friend laughs. “He can be pretty persistent when he wants to be.”
You chuckle, eyes softening with the memories. “You've got that right. I still remember how he made me stay up for two hours until I could get a problem right. He even got food so that I couldn’t use it as an excuse for a break.”
“He did that for you?” Your friend’s eyes widen in surprise. You nodded sheepishly, a fond smile creeping on your face.
“Yeah, I didn’t expect it either.”
Your friend snickers knowingly. You shoot him a look, only for him to brush it off.
“Anyway, if you’re that worried over him,” he suggests, “why don’t you go up and check on him? You’re the least likely to get yelled at if you do.”
“That’s what you say,” you roll your eyes playfully. “But you have a point. Unfortunately.”
“Always do,” your friend huffs pridefully. He winks at you as he lightly pushes you toward the exit. “Don’t worry about sneaking out. I’ll cover you.”
That’s how you found yourself scaling the old bell tower, holding an extra coat in your arms, a small flame dancing in the palm of your hand for light. You were careful to keep the flame from fanning out of control, as the tower was made from wood.
Your legs ached by the time you neared the top. You had no idea how Rollo did this on a daily basis, much less in the raging storm.
The wind battered at your face the second you reached the highest story, blowing rain into your eyes and nearly putting your flame out. Struggling to shield yourself from the wild tempest, you squint through the raindrops for Rollo. Thankfully, you didn’t have to look too far.
“Rollo?” you call out, your voice straining against the wind. Faintly you can spot the tall silhouette of your friend, somehow completely fine and still dutifully polishing the bell. “Rollo!”
The silhouette freezes, and turns to meet your gaze. You sigh in relief when you see the familiar green of his eyes, pushing your way through the storm to meet him.
“What are you doing here?” Rollo asks, caught off guard by your appearance. His gaze wanders over your body, noticing how drenched you were getting. “The storm is dangerous, you’ll catch a cold.”
“That’s what I should be saying!” you huff, lightly hitting his chest. “You’ve been out here cleaning the Bell for how long again?”
“Only an hour, the rain helps-”
You roll your eyes, putting your hands on your hips. “Only an hour?! You’re the one who’s going to get sick at this rate!”
“But I’m not-”
“Yeah, yeah, no, we’re going inside,” you retort, grabbing his hand. Rollo surprisingly doesn’t protest, allowing you to drag him off his precious bell and back into the safety of the tower. It’s by no means warmer, but it’s definitely drier.
You sit down on one of the many tables inside the tower, cringing as the walls shake from the wind. But you know that the tower won’t fall. It’s old, yes, but it has prevailed through storms like this before. The Bell of Salvation’s magic still runs strong.
“Your hands are freezing,” you comment, Rollo’s hand still intertwined with your own. His hands were always cold, but today they were like blocks of ice. You run your thumbs over the palms of his hands, cupping both of them before whispering a small spell.
Warmth tickles your palms like little embers, providing you and Rollo solace in the freezing winter. You let out a breath of contentment, before realizing just what you were doing. Snatching your hand away, you frantically apologize - not noticing the dejected look in Rollo’s eyes as you do so.
“Great Seven, I am so sorry-”
“I don’t mind,” Rollo says quietly, purposely avoiding your gaze. He silently thanks the darkened room for preventing you from seeing his flushed ears.
“You don’t?” you question, looking up at him. Briefly, you saw a glimpse of red before Rollo hastily looked away, lightly shaking his head. You feel your face warm, but decide to blame it on the magic. Hurriedly, you look for a way to change the conversation.
“So… I didn’t notice it earlier, but how are you perfectly dry in that storm?” you ask, rubbing your arms, cringing when you noticed how soaked you were. Rollo looks relieved from the change of subject.
“Magic,” he explains easily, as if it were obvious. And it kind of was. You laugh nervously, rubbing the back of your neck.
“Oh, right,” you chuckle, glancing down at your ringed finger. You hummed, waving your hand and blasting yourself with a gust of hot air, effectively drying yourself. “It really solves everything, doesn’t it.”
Rollo’s face visibly sours at your comment. “Is that how you really feel?”
The coldness in his voice surprises you. You’ve never heard such hatred and malice from him before. Had you said something wrong? 
You swallow nervously. “What do you mean?”
“Do you truly think that magic solves everything?” Rollo crosses his arms, a scowl twisting his face.
“Well, it depends,” you say carefully, not wanting to set him off. You can already hear the warning bells in his tone. “The way I see it, magic’s a tool.”
“Even if it’s evil?” Rollo questions angrily. You take a deep breath, steeling yourself against him.
“I don’t think it’s evil,” you say firmly, yet softly. “I mean, look at this city. The Bell’s magic protects us, doesn’t it?”
“It didn’t protect-” Rollo cuts himself off. You give him a look, but don’t pry. It isn’t your business to ask nor to know what had happened to him for him to despise magic this much. He hadn’t said much, but it’s obvious to you.
“Like I said, magic is a tool,” you continue, facing him fully. “It’s like a knife. When you’re stabbed, you don’t blame the knife, but the person holding it.”
Rollo doesn’t say anything, but you can see the turmoil twisting in his eyes. You’re challenging something that had been in his life longer than you have, something that you’ve never seen.
You decide to take a risk, a step forward. Reaching out, you cup his hands in yours once again. Rollo only watches, confusion and anticipation keeping him curious.
You whisper your spell once again, except this time, the embers blossom into fire. Sparks of flame surround the two of you like fireflies, dancing daintily in the wind. Warmth like a mother’s embrace envelops the two of you as you hold a flickering flame in your intertwined palms.
The glow of the fire illuminates Rollo’s face, entranced by the blaze. Something moves in your chest, and you find yourself scooting closer to him so that you can bask in more of this warmth.
“Magic can be dangerous,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You’re right beside him at this point, your shoulders nearly brushing together. Rollo turns to look at you, his face uncharacteristically gentle. You don’t notice, keeping your gaze on your flame. “And you don’t have to like it. But it can also be beautiful.”
You laugh to yourself, sighing as you lay your head on Rollo’s shoulder. You hope he doesn’t hear how loudly your heart beats. He doesn’t react, but he also doesn’t protest.
“You know, you worried the hell out of me earlier,” you suddenly confess, the flames dancing in your eyes. “I mean, you already do, with your sleeping habits and how much pressure you put on yourself. But today was… Well, it wasn’t our best day.”
“...I’m sorry,” Rollo whispers, and you almost don’t hear it. But it’s genuine, heartfelt, and sincere. You feel an arm wrap around your waist, bringing you closer together.
You smile, relaxing into his hold.
“As long as you’re okay.”
Neither of you acknowledges the position you’re in, nor the intimacy of it. You don’t have to. For now, all you do is rest, and enjoy each other’s touch.
You don’t see it, but eventually, Rollo closes his eyes, and leans his head onto yours.
It’s the most relaxed he’s ever been.
—[5]—
Rollo thinks he’s going to die.
Not literally, of course, but he was pretty close.
He doesn’t know what he’s doing out here, taking a leisurely walk around the city streets with you. He has no idea how you managed to drag him out of his uptight uniform, or how you convinced him to enjoy the snow and the festivities.
He sighs, pulling up his scarf to warm his face. You already made him layer up quite a bit, but just to be safe, you also wrapped that around him to make sure he didn’t accidentally die from touching a snowflake.
He chuckles at the thought, his breath fogging in the cold winter air. The way you constantly fretted over him, overthinking everything and taking care of him… His cheeks warmed at the thought, a fond smile overtaking his lips without him noticing.
“I’m back! God, that line was so long and I swear this lady cut in front of me and I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so badly-”
Speak of the devil, and they shall appear. Rollo’s breath clogs in his throat when you run up to him, two steaming cups of hot chocolate in your hands. He can’t help but think of how cute you were in your winter apparel, all cozy and warm.
He mindlessly tunes out your rantings, only half listening as he simply stares at your lips. Even when he takes one of the cups you offer him, he only watches. Eventually, he sees you running out of air and reaches out, patting your head to shut you up.
“Are you done?” he asks. You huff, sipping your hot chocolate to make yourself feel better - nearly burning yourself in the process.
“Yeah, I’m done,” you giggle, sticking out your tongue to cool it. “Sorry about that.”
“I like hearing you talk,” Rollo assures, effectively flustering you. Reaching out, he lightly tugs your cheek. “And be careful when you drink that. You could’ve burned yourself.”
“But I didn’t,” you mutter, rubbing your cheek with a pout. Rollo raises a brow, but you brush it off. “Anyways, how’s the chocolate?”
“Hot,” Rollo says bluntly, making you snort. “But also sweet.”
“Do you like it?” Rollo nods.
“It’s perfect for a night like this,” he observes, looking out towards the bright lights that litter the snow-covered city.
“Right?” you hum cheerfully, the snow fluttering around you prettily. “Let’s find somewhere to sit.”
The two of you quickly found a bench to seat yourselves on. You lean back onto the wooden chair, happily drinking away at your chocolate. You only stopped when you feel a presence at your shoulder.
Looking up, you let out a sound when you found Rollo’s face mere inches away from yours. Your breath hitched at the sudden proximity as you froze in place, becoming a mere statue.
You only snapped out of your phase when you felt something soft pressing up to the corner of your lips. Rollo dabs at you with one of his many handkerchiefs. The pure concentration on his face only manages to fluster you more until he pulls his hand back, seemingly satisfied with his handiwork.
“You had chocolate on your lips,” he explains, not noticing the way you stare at him, blood rushing to your face.
“...Oh,” you manage out, your voice small.
You can practically feel Rollo’s breath ghosting on your lips. Subconsciously, you held your breath, watching him carefully for his next move. Rollo seemed to have the same idea, uncertainty taking hold of him for the first time.
The two of you waited with bated breath, waiting for the other to take that risk. For a moment, the rest of the world disappeared into a flash of white.
But you both hesitated too long.
Rollo jumps as something tugs on his coat, effectively breaking the spell. He looks down to see one of the city goats staring up at him cutely, bleating for his attention. Begrudgingly, he sighs and reaches down to pet it.
The goat unfortunately uses that to jump on him. It attempts a bite at his cup, but thankfully, Rollo has quicker reflexes than one would think. His height also means that he’s able to hold the cup far out of the goat’s reach.
“No, you don’t,” he grits out, the goat’s weight heavy on him. “You can’t eat chocolate, fool.”
Something about Rollo unironically calling a goat a fool was just too ridiculous for you.
You break out laughing, your eyes crinkling. Rollo’s chest constricts at the sight, his arm relaxing for a second as he stares at you in awe - barely noticing when the goat tries again for his cup.
There are few things that he could call precious. But your smile, this moment, your laughter… He would say that they were the brightest treasures in the world.
—[ + 1 ]—
Rollo isn’t stupid.
He isn’t oblivious.
He knows the way he feels isn’t normal. He knows the way he wants you, craves you, needs you, is anything but. He always knew.
But what sets it in for him, is when he sees those couples in the streets of the city. When he sees those loving gazes towards one another, the way they hold hands, and how comfortable they are with each other, he’s no longer filled with indifferent disgust.
Rather, he wonders how it would feel to do that with you.
What would it be like, to be able to hold you and call you his own?
He’s wondered for a while. When you cup his hands in your own, he relishes in your warmth, but finds himself wanting more. When you look at him, he becomes lost in your eyes. When you smile, he sees your lips, wondering how they’d feel pressed up against his.
It’s a strange thing for him, to want something so badly.
So when he finds himself nestled in your arms, finally resting, he’s conflicted.
With his head laying gently on your chest, he practically melts into your hold. Your fingers thread through his hair, softly petting and massaging his scalp as you do. His eyes are closed, his arms wrapped loosely around your waist.
He's able to let go with you. He allows himself this small moment of vulnerability. He lets you hold him, finding redamancy in your touch. For in your arms, he is safe - this is his home.
"Thank you," he murmurs, his voice muffled by your clothes. You hum, playing with his hair.
"Of course," you shift the delicate locks between your fingers. "That's what friends are for."
Friends. He finds that the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Friends, yes, that was what you were. A month or two ago, he would've been fine, delighted even, to be called such a thing.
But is it so wrong to be longing for something more?
You must've felt him stiffen, as you look down at him in concern.
"You okay, Rollo?"
He really isn't. Slowly blinking his eyes open, he raises his head to look at you.
Your hand falls from his hair to cradle his face, your thumb tenderly swiping over his cheek. Rollo closes his eyes in contentment, nuzzling into your palm - almost like a kitten, you'd comment later.
"You're unfair," he mumbles, peering at you once again. You tilt your head, prompting him to continue. He reaches up, covering your hand with his own. "You dare to hold me like this, and yet you still only call me 'friend'."
You hum, looking away bashfully. "I was afraid to call you something else."
"You were afraid of nothing." Rollo lifts his head, moving your hand so that he could press a kiss to your palm. His eyes stayed trained on yours, waiting to see any reaction - as if he was asking for permission.
The look you give him is nothing short of loving. It's what pushes him to test the boundaries even further, to push himself up. You look up at him with hidden intrigue, knowing, and even anticipation - as if you knew just what was coming ahead.
Rollo lets go of your hand, taking a hold of your chin instead, tilting it up to face him. His eyes search yours carefully, still hesitant even now.
You nod your head, silently giving your approval. Your words have lost you, unable to make it past the lump in your throat.
Rollo leans forward, close enough so that your noses brush against each other. Taking one last breath, he takes the dive, closing his eyes and gently pressing his lips to yours.
Instantly, your eyes shut as if falling into a trance. Your hand trails up to the back of his head, holding him there as the other reaches to wrap around his waist - bringing him impossibly closer.
It’s over before you know it. When Rollo finally pulls away, you instinctively follow, chasing him. It’s only when Rollo lightly pushes you back that you peek your eyes open.
In the swirling forest of his eyes, you see amusement, adoration, and most importantly, gratitude.
Not a word is spoken when Rollo falls back into your arms, and you are there to welcome him, as you always have.
1K notes · View notes
yandere-daydreams · 2 months
Text
Title: Escapism.
Commissioned by the very lovely @twst-ophelia.
Pairing: Yandere!Dorm Leaders x Reader (TWST).
Word Count: 4.0k.
TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con, Dub/Con, Prolonged Imprisonment, Physical/Psychological Abuse, Slight Marking, Disassociation, and Possessive Behavior.
Tumblr media
The mirror would be ready to use, by now.
Really, that’d been your first mistake – forgetting what you’d learned during your first months in this strange new place, having enough faith in the friends you’d made and your own middling abilities to tell anyone and everyone you could find that you were finally going home. You’d been over-eager, blinded by joy, and within a week of Crowly admitting that he’d found a way to return you to your own world using the Magic Mirror, it’d been common knowledge across all of Twisted Wonderland that it’d only be a few more weeks before you were returned to your own world. Ace teased you for being so eager to drop out halfway through your third year and Grim stuck to your side with twice his usual clinginess, and despite the bittersweetness of knowing you’d likely never be able to come back, you were happy. You were alright with leaving them, so long as it meant you could go home.
And you did leave them, in a way. If you looked at it from a certain angle.
You just didn’t get to go home.
There was a wet, slick noise, then a pang of pure agony racing from your cunt to your core. Involuntarily, you jerked away from the painful sensation, but it was an effort made in vain. The heavy arm wrapped around your waist only coiled tighter, your back soon drawn flush against a broad chest. Leona’s tail swatted contentedly at the down-stuffed mattress as he let out a low, airy chuckle. “Not gonna get away that easily,” he muttered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Remember what happened last time you tried to act-up? I don’t think the basement’s gotten any warmer.”
Basement. Calling it a basement would be like calling him a housecat. You’d been locked in that dark, frigid dungeon of a cellar for days before Azul – because he was the one you scratched, the one who got to decide how cruel your punishment was going to be – let you out, and even then, it’d taken another week of huddling by barely-smoldering fireplaces and wrapping yourself in any shred of fabric you could find to shake the chill that’d lodged itself underneath your skin. You stopped trying to lash out at them, after that. As much as their so-call ‘affection’ scared you, their anger scared you that much more.
You couldn’t be sure how they’d gotten their hands on a place like this – ancient and only a step above decrepit. Their means weren’t exactly limited, not with a prince and the heir to a fortune that might as well have made him royalty funding their little venture, but it was still hard to imagine the people you’d gone to school with keeping you locked inside of an abandoned castle, surrounded only by more woodland than you could ever hope to walk through. It might’ve been more enjoyable (or, bearable, at least) if your captors had taken a more absentee approach, if they’d given you time to adjust to being in the middle of a never-ending forest with only stone walls and dust-covered furniture for company, but no, at least one of them always seemed to be at no more than arm’s length, there to remind you exactly why you’d been relegated to the role of princess, trapped in her tower. You’d never been able to call any of them your friends, and yet, the betrayal still stung.
“Would you keep your mouth shut?” Vil mumbled, with a particularly sharp movement of his wrist. The heel of his palm ground into your clit, and against your better judgement, you withered into Leona – the sound of your pulse beating in your ears deafening, but still not enough to mask the deep, self-satisfied purr rising from his chest. “You’re frightening the poor thing. Look at her eyes – they’re practically glazed over.”
 “Is she scared, or just bored half-to-death by your shitty excuse for a handjob?” He bowed his head, nipping playfully at the corner of your jaw. Of all your captors, he was the most fond of marking what he considered to be his property – even more so if he had a captive audience. “If I was the one between her legs, she’d be feelin’ too good to think about anything else. She’d already be fucked good n’ dumb.”
“That’s not—” The air caught in your throat as Vil spread his fingers apart, but you fought to go one. “I don’t feel anything when you—”
Vil pulled out of you entirely, only for his hand to come down on your pussy with a harsh, slick crack. You couldn’t swallow back your pained cry, couldn’t stop yourself from shrinking further into Leona. “No lying, now, darling. You know how easy it is to hurt his feelings.” He paused, then glanced over his shoulders. Blearily, your attention drifted to the doorway of your bedroom – to Riddle, standing stiffly on the other side other side of the threshold. You stiffened, but Vil didn’t seem surprised. “Going to watch today, Rosehearts?”
Obviously. As complicit as they all seemed with your imprisonment, there were a few – Riddle, Idia, Azul – that withheld from treating your prolonged abuse like a group project. You’d been surprised, at first, that Vil wasn’t a part of that collective, but his tendency towards exhibitionism made sense. He couldn’t love what he couldn’t flaunt, even if his audience was limited to a handful of former classmates.
“O-of course not,” Riddle stuttered out, predictably. His pale face was tinted a nearly violent shade of red. “I just wanted to make sure you two weren’t hurting her.”
You felt Leona’s grin against your throat. “Hear that, pretty girl?  He thinks we’d hurt you.” The space Vil left vacant was quickly filled – three of his calloused fingers soon filling your drenched pussy. You clenched your eyes shut, grit your teeth, but that did little to stop him from burrowing his claws into your side and tearing a little, cracked whimper through your sealed lips. “Don’t see him doing much to stop us, though.”
Vil only offered an unimpressed shake of his head, but Riddle straightened. “Are you implying that I couldn’t—”
“I’m saying that you won’t.” Leona cut him off swiftly, the edge in his tone sharped and playful. “Not if you want the next turn.”
For a moment, Riddle didn’t say anything, didn’t do anything.
Then, with a pointed glare, he turned on his heel and abandoned your bedroom altogether, likely dedicating himself to finding another part of this terrible castle to wait Leona out in.
As soon as his footsteps faded out of earshot, Leona’s teeth were buried in the curve of your throat – drawing blood in an instant.
~
Out of all your captors, it was Kalim who’d disappointed you the most.
You hadn’t expected this from the others, but in hindsight, you wouldn’t put it above them, either. Azul had never been able to draw a line between what he wanted and what he could have, Riddle had never been able to keep his base impulses at bay for very long, and Leona… well, Leona couldn’t be bothered to pretend he was interested in things like your ‘autonomy’ or ‘independence’. Kalim, though – he’d always been nice to you. Not overly kind, but nice, and in a place like NRC, that was something you’d been able to appreciate.
It almost didn’t make sense to see him in a place like this, to connect his presence here with the looming fact of your continual imprisonment. It didn’t make sense that the boy who’d once thrown a parade to celebrate you finally accepting an invitation to one of his banquets would be resting his hands on your shoulders, his eyes fixed on your reflection in a pearl-lined vanity as he pulled what felt like the hundredth gem-studded necklace into place at the base of your throat. You didn’t need jewelry. They rarely gave you anything to wear outside of loose-fitting, sheer dresses and the occasional piece of lingerie, but Kalim would’ve plucked the moon from the sky if it meant he could give it to you in a velvet-lined box. That was what he’d told you, at least, the first time you’d turned him down.
Actually, maybe you didn’t deserve to feign surprise. They’d all tried to do it the right way before their graduations, whether it was Vil beckoning you to sit on his lap during a dorm leader meeting or Riddle turning a dozen shades of pink as he asked if you’d care to attend an Unbirthday Party as his guest, sometime. You’d turned them all down, batting Leona’s hand away before it could settle on your shoulder, telling Azul you wouldn’t trust him as a business partner, let alone a boyfriend. Between school and a new apocalypse-scenario every other week, you never had the time (let alone the energy or desire) to date, as idiotic as it sounded to suggest that any of this could’ve started with a handful of schoolyard crushes. Maybe, if you’d given them a chance to see that it wouldn’t have worked out on their own terms, it wouldn’t have come to this. Maybe, you would’ve gotten to go home.
Or, maybe, you just would’ve been snatched up before that thread of hope could ever be dangled in front of you. Either way, a preferable alternative.
“The sapphires were a better fit,” Azul chimed in as Kalim pulled the next necklace into place – a loose riviere studded with rubies. It was the fifth of as many variants, only differentiated by the color of the jewel. Kalim claimed that he’d only meant to get you one, but ever the glutton, he hadn’t been able to choose. “Red is such a garish color. Our little princess deserves to feel as royal as we treat her, doesn’t she?”
If Kalim noticed the barb, he didn’t seem to mind. “I think you look beautiful in red,” he said, leaning down to push a kiss into your temple. His smile was as bright as it’d ever been, and you hated him that much more for it. “Then again, you look beautiful in everything. Why don’t you keep them all?”
You opened your mouth, ready to tell him where he could shove his jewelry, but you were cut off by the shutter of a camera, the hint of a flash in your peripheral. You glanced towards Azul, who only shrugged in response., sinking further into his armchair “For Idia. He’s going to be tied up with a research project for another week or so, and for whatever reason, it’s fallen on my shoulders to make sure that he doesn’t completely succumb to his self-pity and throw the gates of Tartarus open.” He thought, for a moment. “For a second time, I mean.”
You couldn’t be sure why you said it. It was an instinct, a knee-jerk reaction to grab the first blade you saw and twist it. Idia was, by far, the most distant of your captors, and when he did show his face, he barely spoke and never touched you. Even in a castle of rapists and kidnappers, he’d found a way to make himself an outsider.
“Azul?” You made a point of keeping your eyes on your reflection as you went on. “Could you tell Idia I want to see him again? When he has time, I mean.”
There was a beat of silence, then another.
Finally, Kalim forced out an only partially strained laugh, squeezing your shoulders with just a little too much force. “Is something wrong? If you want to ask for something, you don’t have to wait for Idia.”
You didn’t bother trying to respond to him. “Please, Azul?”
From the corner of your eye, you watched him glance between you and Kalim. Eventually, he let out an airy sigh and nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. Although, I do have to wonder what you’re getting up to.”
Your only answer came in the form of a tight smile, a slight shrug. Kalim didn’t waste time taking up the next necklace: a choker of braided strands of pure, glittering gold. This time, he fastened it tightly enough to bruise.
~
You almost felt bad for Idia, when you let yourself think about what you were doing.
Almost.
The bare skin of his chest was warm under your palm, the flames of his hair tinted a deep pink - a color you might’ve found charming, in any other situation. He was beneath you, currently, his face half-buried in a pillow while you rolled your hips idly against his, your pace slow and careless. He wasn’t as authoritative as Leona, as demanding as Riddle, and you liked that about him. But, his submissiveness meant you had to do most of the work, which you liked less.
At least he tried to pretend that he didn’t like it. Bias caused conflict, and his occasional encounters with the others wilted before shriveling into complete nonexistence shortly after you declared him your unlikely favorite. Even now, he kept his eyes clenched shut, his bottom lip caught between his pointed teeth as your pussy clenched around him. You’d gone numb to pleasure in the first weeks of your captivity, but any amount of physical contact seemed to overwhelm him. It might’ve been refreshing, if you hadn’t been so, so exhausted.
Gradually, your movements slowed, your body stilling on top of his. A second passed before he opened one of his eyes, his kiss-swollen lips quirking downward in mixed disappointment and frustration. “W-Why did you stop?”
With an exaggerated sigh, you collapsed onto him, slotting your chest against his and propping your chin on his collarbone. “I never made it to graduate,” you said, absentmindedly, relying on the haze of lust to hide just how flat your voice was. “Never got to say goodbye to anyone, either, but that was never going to happen. The other are too mean to me for that.”
His expression took on a somber lull. It might’ve been more believable if you hadn’t been able to feel his cock twitching inside of you. “I… I’m sorry. I wanted to wait, but Azul said— and Leona—”
“I know, I know.” You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “It’s not your fault. I just—”
You cut yourself off with another sigh, just as unbelievable as the first. Thankfully, Idia was eager to take the bait. “Whatever it is, I can do it for you. I’d do anything for you.” His shaking hands found their way to your waist. “I love you.”
“I want to see Ramshackle again,” you said, without hesitation. Immediately, you felt him stiffen against you, and let your tone drag into something desperate, something pleading. “Just this once. I won’t even go inside, and Night Raven’s on break, right now. No one’s going to be on campus.” You paused, pecked the corner of his lips. “Please, Idia. Nobody else has to know.”
He still looked skeptical, but he was going to break your heart, he wasn’t going to do it while his cock was still pulsing inside of you. After only a moment of hesitation, he let out a shallow breath and nodded hastily. “One trip. And the other never find out.”
Instantly, you brightened, beaming as you pulled him into a deep, lasting kiss – a proper kiss, this time, something you’d never willingly imitated with any of your captors. He would know that. He wasn’t the most domineering, but if the hidden cameras dotted across your bedroom were anything to go by, he had his own kind of competitive streak.
A hitched moan reverberated against your mouth. With your arms still wrapped around his neck, your chest still pressed into his, he started to move on his own – his fingers digging into your hips as he thrust into you from below. His pace was unsteady, his rhythm nonexistent, but your clit scraped against the flattened plane of his pubic bone and however meager it might’ve been, there was just enough stimulation to melt into. Vaguely, you were aware of a distant whimpering, of Idia’s face buried in the crook of your neck, but you let it fade into the background – into the constant fog of static that’d been cast over your conscious mind since you woke up in this terrible place.
When you felt his teeth scrape over the curve of your throat, it was all you could do to close your eyes and think of home.
~
“It’s a pretty basic teleportation scheme,” he’d explained, as he led you through the castle’s entryway after pulling you out of your bed in the middle of the night. The winter air cut through your thin dress without mercy, but you’d fought not to shiver, not to give him a reason to second-guess if he should be doing this. Right now, he was convinced he loved you more than he feared letting you get away, and you couldn’t do anything to break that delusion. “Ortho handled most of the hardware, but he was following my designs. The NRC waypoint was supposed to be a limited-time mechanic, but I never cut it out of the system. It should still work – for a couple trips, at least.”
You’d let him ramble about how many hours it’d taken to put together, nodded enthusiastically as he described all the effort he’d poured into ruining your life. He kept his hand locked around yours as he led you onto a shining, steel platform, only letting go to punch the coordinates into his tablet. There was a flash of light, a slight buzzing in your ears, and then, you were standing in front of the gates to Night Raven College, already open and waiting for your arrival.
You didn’t wait for Idia to move, to say anything. Rather, you let the gem shard (pilfered from one of Kalim’s more recent attempts to win back your attention; the jewel in its entirety had been larger than your balled fist) that you’d stowed away in your sleeve fall into your hand and stabbed the jagged end into his back. You didn’t wait to see if the wound took before breaking into a sprint towards the Hall of Mirrors.
You’d be able to see, later on, that it was far from the best idea you’d ever had. There was a good chance Crowley abandoned any work he might’ve started as soon as you went missing, if he really had found a way to send you hope at all. The injury you’d dealt to Idia was far from fatal, and you’d be in for more than just a few days in the cellar if they caught you, but the desire to get out of here, to go home drowned out your better judgement – leaving your tired mind empty and your body dependent on pure, unadulterated desperation as you ran towards the familiar, pitch-black dome on the outskirts of campus. Your skirt snagged on roots and twigs, your bare feet numb and aching in-turns, but you didn’t dare to slow down, to look behind you. By the time you reached the Hall of Mirrors, your throat was dry, your heart beating in your ears. Thankfully, the door had been left unlocked, and you shouldered your way inside.
The Magic Mirror stood, dark and stoic, in the center of the room. You allowed yourself a single breath of relief, a moment to let the past few months— no, the past three years of your life melt away before moving toward it.
You made it all of two, three steps before something sprung from the darkness and wrapped around your ankle – cutting into your flesh and, with a sudden jerk, dragging you to the floor. You stifled a scream, reflexively moving to tear at your new restraints, but froze when you saw exactly what you were caught in.
A thick braid of vines wrapped around your leg – except they weren’t vines, not really.
They were briars.
Rows upon rows of hooked thorns were embedded into the skin of your calf, drawing blood wherever they made contact. The pain was instant, searing, but you didn’t care – tearing at your bondage even as the thorns bit into your hands, as the rope of briars drew that much tighter. Tears blurred your vision, and so distracted by your own misery and panic, you almost didn’t notice the sound of clipped heels against marble floors, the dark shadow that soon blocked out what little light you had. You didn’t have to look at him. You already knew who it was.
In the end, though, you weren’t given much of a choice.
You really should’ve been more used to that, by now.
A gloved hand caught you by the chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and meet Malleus’ expectant, prying stare. He took a moment to evaluate your ragged dress, the bruising and love-bites painted down your neck before a small smile came to rest over his lips; the barest hint of pointed teeth catching in the moonlight. “And to think, I thought it was only nostalgia drawing me back to this lonely place.” He spared a glance toward the mirror. “And I suppose you plan to use that ancient thing to return to your own world?”
“Malleus,” you gasped his name, hoping that would be enough to communicate the depths of your despair. “I don’t have a lot of time, I— They’re coming for me, and—” You cut yourself off, swallowing harshly. “I want to go home.”
His only response came in the form of a low hum, dull and dismissive. All it took was a snap of his fingers, a certain glint in his narrowed eyes, and the mirror shattered into more pieces than you could ever hope to put back together.
This time, you couldn’t swallow back the ragged sob that tore past your lips, the pathetic noise echoing off the stone walls. You tried to crawl towards the fractured pieces, but Malleus kneeled to your height, letting out a patronizing coo as he wrapped an arm around your midriff, pulling you against his chest and suffocating any possible hope you might’ve had for escape. Distantly, you were aware of a rush of footsteps, of a collar (as heavy as it was useless) snapping shut around your neck, but Malleus didn’t falter. With your limp body in his arms, he pushed himself to his feet, turning to face your captors where they’d clustered in the entryway.
It was Leona who spoke first, predictably. He never could let anyone else be the center of attention. “What do you want, Draconia?”
Malleus, on the other hand, was in no rush, letting his gaze fall back to you. “I was surprised, when I heard of her disappearance. I know how fragile mortal lives could be, but I thought, surely, a human who’d befriended so many powerful mages ought to be a little more enduring.”
After he finished, silence hung heavy in the air. Vil summoned his spell book, and Kalim’s fists clenched at his sides, his jealousy threatening to outweigh his pacifistic nature. None of it would’ve made a difference. If Malleus wanted to, he could reduce them all to ash with little more than a wayward thought. If Malleus wanted to, he wouldn’t need five other conspirators to have you at his mercy.
And yet, he only let out a breath of a laugh, holding you that much closer to his chest. “Then again, if I’d known those powerful mages would struggle to keep watch of such a precious item, I might’ve been less generous.”
“Get to the point.”
This time, he chose to obey. “It seems,” he started, bowing his head and letting his lips brush against your cheek. “As if you’re having trouble keeping this little one in line.”
His grin was wider and more satisfied than you’d ever seen it, before. Looking at him, you could only wonder how you have bothered trying to survive in a world that so clearly wasn’t meant for you.
“Would you consider making use of another pair of hands?”
1K notes · View notes
Text
V2
Ace: What? Your all i ever wanted....You're beautiful
Yuu: Thank you but what else?
Ace:What else?
Yuu: Is beauty all that matters?
Deuce & Carter: *rapidly motioning no in every possible way*
Riddle: Ace, what else?
Ace: What else is there?
.........................................................................................
Deuce & Carter: What else is there!?!?
Catrer: They say "Is beauty all that matters to you?"!
Deuce: and you say "What else is there?"!
208 notes · View notes
mayullla · 1 year
Text
Title: Little henchman!
Character(s): Leona, Ruggie (Twisted Wonderland)
Summary: You always followed Ruggie where ever he went. He was like an older brother to you and he too also adored you like a sister. So when he went to the night raven academy he couldn't help but whine, missing your presence to Leona.
Warnings/tags: Fem!reader, reader is around Cheka's age, Reader also has the same hyena ears as Ruggie, Ruggie is like a self-proclaimed brother(?), platonic yandere but it really just fluff till like the very end
Tumblr media
You were one of the children that Ruggie took care of before he had to leave for Night Raven Academy. You were the one whom he worried about the most before he stepped into the carriage. You were a mischievous one, but not as much as the other kids, you were much more docile and listened to his words compared to the other troublemaker ruts.
You were just the same in a sense.
While he took care of you the most and people would often talk about how you were like his baby sister seeing that whenever he was home or even outside with a task to do you would be following him whereever he went. You were so insistent when you followed him. While it was troubling to him at first, seeing that you don't place yourself in trouble often and were well-behaved, he let you do so. Ruggie would often order you around for half of his food the next meal.
It was something that Ruggie and you had grown used to so when he called you at the dorms unable to hear the small steps of a small hyena he felt out of place.
Yet it seemed that he learned how to deal too busy dealing with Leona with his demands and messes. He tried to send you a letter, something that his grandmother commented talking how your ears would always be down saddened that he wasn't there. But no matter what he wrote he couldn't seem to write anything.
Leona heard about you from Ruggie when the boy became his henchman. At first, when the relationship was still new Ruggie would often complain about how he missed his little henchman as he cleaned Leona's room. As this went on and on Leona soon asked (in a quiet annoyed tone) who she was.
Ruggie who was given the chance to talk about his little follower took it.
"Kids are too noisy... they are annoying," Leona stated cleaning his ear with his pinky finger as he yawns bored.
"Shyehee hehee hee! You will understand when you see her, she can be quite useful if you hand her some food or money." Ruggie told him.
"Hmmmm...." Well, you certainly didn't sound like his own nephew even though you were about the same age.
The first time Leona meet you is when he visited Ruggie's home. After calling it a dog's house Leona and Ruggie were quickly bombarded by kids who were waiting for Ruggie to welcome him back but also curious as to what he was bringing.
"It's food!" "Give me!!" "I want some too!!"
The sounds of the children pained Leona's ear as he quickly backed away from Ruggie who was dealing with some children climbing all over him. Backing to a safe place from the crowd he flinched when someone tugged his shirt and looked down to see a small girl with hyena ears tugging his shirt.
"Did you come with Ruggie-nii?" You asked.
Leona grunts finding everything a hassle but answers when you pulled his shirt again asking him the same question. "Follow me!" You told him not letting go of his t-shirt, pulling him to Ruggie's home to hide from the people's eyes.
There you two stayed, waiting for Ruggie to come home.
"So this is where you were. I have been searching everywhere for you." Ruggie panted trying to catch his breath he had been trying to search for Leona after he was finally able to get the kids off his arms. "This kid helped me out a bit." Leona pointed at you. "Ehhh then why did you tell me." 
You giggled as Ruggie pinched your cheeks, giving you a little hug he gave you some food that he saved specifically for you. "Welcome home!" "Yeah yeah, Shyee hehe."
"So this is the kid you were talking about?" Leona asked.
"Shyeehehe yeah, she is." "Hmmm, she seems very efficient and less noisy than the brats that jumped on you."
Leona had offered you and Ruggie to follow him to the palace unable to sleep at the old run-down place Ruggie glared as he told you to pack your bags. "I understand why you would want me to boss me around and all but why did you invite her?" Ruggie was on guard as to why Leona would invite you with a knowing smirk on his face, he stated that you could eat as much as you want if you follow him.
"You will see."
True to that, while he worked Ruggie to the bone he also asked you to do a few things. Asking you to spy on some people within the palace and a few other errands because he also found out how sneaky you can be and if you were caught many people won't be able to touch you knowing that you were invited by the second prince.
And when Leona's nephew shows up he would toss you a small bag of money telling you to play with his nephew. You would when you looked at the money bag already trusting that he put the usual amount inside the bag.
Ruggie was super annoyed that he didn't have much time to spend with you with Leona just stacking multiple errands on him. C'mon, let him rest a little...
So imagine his surprise when he saw Leona's nephew sleeping on the floor while he was on the bed snoring. But he just could not find you anywhere as he moved around the room searching for you whispering your name scared that he would wake up the 2 lions who were taking a nap.
Ruggie was mildly panicking that he wasn't able to find you and was about to run out to find you till he found you sleeping right beside Leona softly snoring. You must have been tired and seeing the two lion sleeping must have made you sleepy too.
BUT why crawl into Leona's bed of all places!!
You were adored by the two boys, Ruggie ever since you started following him a long time ago and who watches over you like an older protective brother while Leone at first used you to get out of his nephew's hands, he didn't mind you sleeping right beside him.
Seeing that you started trailing around following Leona as he had ordered you to do just in case of any surprise visits from his nephew. Leona's brother was curious about who this little girl that Leona had right beside him was. He had heard that he brought a friend and the friend's sister to the palace but he can't understand why the sister is following him.
"Don't worry about it. Ruggie is just too busy to watch over her so she is with me right now." Leona casually explained, ignoring when Farena compliment him about it seeing that he was worried that Leona didn't like children but it seems that he didn't have to worry about him anymore.
You and Ruggie were really useful to keep by his side.
So imagine when Leona woke up unable to see anyone in his room, he looked at the time and noticed that he slept a little more than usual. Ruggie had told you to always wake Leona up when he sleeps too much in his naps and while you always followed what you were asked to do to a T you didn't come to wake him up.
He yawned a little satisfied that he was able to sleep a little more and tried to call you but you didn't answer. Maybe you went out to get something to eat, he didn't ask you to do any errands today besides to watch out for his nephew. Yet as time passed, you didn't come back...
Strange... He thought to himself wondering what had happened. He can't help but feel like something bad has happened.
Getting up from his bed he headed to the door in order to look for you, only to see one of the servants outside his door jump in surprise. "Hmm, what are you doing here," Leona asked the servant, who looked anywhere but him fidgeting under his gaze.
"Ah- uhh..." 
"Spit it out already, I have other matters to attend to." Unable to wait anymore he was about to leave before the servant stopped him. "Well, you s-see..."
His heartbeats thundered in his ears as he briskly walked to one of the guest rooms. The aura he was excluding was angry, which made the servants and other guests flinch when they saw the second prince stomping past them.
Slamming open the door, ignoring the shouts and yelps of surprise he stopped when he saw you all bandaged up sleeping on the bed with a doctor right beside you. The smell of blood was strong in the room.
It was your blood.
"WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!" Turning to his side Leona saw the shocked face of Ruggie who was right beside him. His eyes shaking, of concern and anger. "WHAT HAPPENED!" Ruggie shouted again when nobody answered him and ran to your side.
Leona didn't move from his place in front of the door yet others could feel the bloodlust emitting from the second prince. "Tell me what happened here and leave no details out. Unless you want to be turned to dust." His voice was calm but it promised pain to those who think they could lie their way out of this.
It was the doctor who explained what had happened.
It seems that many were jealous of you a hyena who looked to be taken care of by Leona. They were jealous that you were beside him when he pushed many others away from him, especially kids who looked fondly to him. While there were a few others who wanted to become friends with Cheka yet were unable to. Seeing you a lowly Hyena who wasn't even royalty so close to his nephew... it seems everything was done out of jealousy. 
When they saw walking alone to the kitchens they thought that this was the chance.
"They are only just kids Leona. You should forgive them-" "Who are you to order what I should do doctor." Leona's eyes were glaring as he pushed his hair away from his face. The doctor flinched and looked down.
When you woke up you were in Leona's room, Ruggie was right beside you sleeping. You saw the dark circles under his eyes, and everything hurt but you tried to reach out to him to somehow rub those eyebags of when a voice suddenly stopped you.
"I wouldn't do that it I were you. The runt didn't sleep at all watch over you." You looked to see Leona on the other side of the bed standing and looking down at you. You looked at him hesitantly as he takes a seat beside you.
"Did you know?" He asked, "That a few runts hated you?"
Understanding showed in your eyes as your mind quickly connected everything that was at the moment fuzzy. Slowly you nodded your head. Slowly you nodded your head thinking that Leona would get angry at you instead he did the opposite flicking your forehead as he lay down on the bed.
"Sleep kid. I didn't get any sleep cause of you last night so don't you dare wake me up this time." He threatened you while lightly grabbing your shoulder so as not to hurt you and pushed you back to bed, Ruggie grumbled at the sudden movement, his sleep disturbed but didn't wake up as he called your name.
You looked at Leona and then Ruggie unsure what to do when Leona spoke again. "Don't worry, they won't be coming back. I and your brother dealt with them. You will never see them again." You didn't understand what he meant by that, did he kick them out of the palace or something?
Leona yawned tiredly and soon fell asleep. Looking at the familiar sleeping face you smiled, grabbing your brother's hand with yours you looked up at the ceiling and closed your eyes.
Your brother Ruggie and Leona would protect you that much you knew. You just didn't know to what point they would do so.
Tumblr media
Note: Please do not copy or repost my writings!
965 notes · View notes
hpalways · 11 months
Text
sleep buddies
Fandom: Twisted Wonderland
Character(s): Leona Kingscholar x GN! Reader
Quick Summary: Lately, you had been feeling burnt out from studying so hard. Exhausted and maybe now delusional, you jokingly thought to yourself that a nap with the king of naps wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Until it was no longer a joke and you found yourself craving for his presence all the more. 
Tumblr media
You had been studying in the library all day and were feeling exhausted. As you made your way back to your dorm room, you couldn't help but think about how nice it would be to take a nap. Maybe you could even convince Leona to take one with you. You knew how much he loved his naps. 
As you made your way to the dorm, you had suddenly crossed paths with the devil, Leona himself! He was flipping through a book with a bored expression on his face. He looked up at the sound of your footsteps, and you couldn't help but feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of him. 
For some reason, as if your mouth had a mind of its own, you asked him the question. The all nighters were getting to you. 
"Hey, Leona," you said, trying to keep your voice casual. "Do you want to take a nap with me?"
He raised an eyebrow in surprise and let out a grunt, but didn't object. 
The next you knew, you were in his room. 
As if you had been possessed, you climbed onto his bed and snuggled up next to him. Once again, to your pleasant surprise, he made no complaint. You could feel his warmth next to you, and you closed your eyes with a contented sigh.
For a few minutes, you both lay in silence, enjoying the feeling of each other's presence. You could feel your breaths slowing down, and you knew that you were both starting to drift off.
As you fell into a deep sleep, you felt Leona's arm wrap around you, pulling you closer to him. You snuggled in even closer, feeling safe and content in his embrace.
When you woke up a few hours later, you found that Leona was still asleep next to you, his breathing slow and even. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, feeling a sense of closeness that you had never felt before.
As you gently extricated yourself from his grasp, you felt a pang of sadness at leaving him. You wished that you could stay with him forever, just like this, in a state of blissful contentment.
But you knew that you had to leave, and so you got up and left the room, feeling grateful for the brief moment of intimacy that you had shared with Leona.
Over the next few days, you found yourself unable to stop thinking about the nap that you had taken with Leona. You couldn't help but feel a sense of longing whenever you saw him around campus, and you found yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to be with him again. It was weird. You thought you were going crazy. 
Suddenly, you felt a warm presence next to you, and you looked up to see Leona standing next to your desk. You blinked in awe. Maybe he was going crazy too. 
"Hey," he said softly, his voice surprisingly gentle. "I heard that you've been studying all day. Do you want to take a break and nap with me again?"
You felt your heart race at the sight of him, and you couldn't help but nod in agreement. It was seriously kind of out of character of him, but perhaps he actually enjoyed your presence. You followed him out of the library and back to his dorm room, where he led you to his bed and pulled you into his arms.
For a few minutes, you both lay in silence, enjoying the feeling of each other's presence. You could feel your breaths slowing down, and you knew that you were both starting to drift off.
As you fell into a deep sleep, you felt Leona's arm wrap around you again, holding you close to him. You could feel his warmth radiating against your skin, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of safety and comfort in his embrace.
When you woke up a few hours later, you found that Leona was still asleep next to you, his breathing soft and even. You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, feeling a sense of happiness that you had never experienced before.
449 notes · View notes
trappolia · 2 months
Text
HOT THINGS HE DOES ── ace trappola + gn!reader, 540
i. quite literally doesn’t care about your personal space, in a way that makes your heart flutter. even long before you start dating, he takes every opportunity to wrap his arms around you, pulling you against him or onto his lap. the way he touches you is casual and subtle — an arm around your shoulders or his chin on your shoulder — but it’s obvious enough that the new students at nrc automatically assume the two of you are dating when they first see you together.
ii. grins whenever he sees you. no matter how bad his rbf is or how sour is mood may be may be, it’s always resolved with a simple look at you. his lips pull into a lopsided grin when your eyes meet across the room, and he always offers you a two-finger salute in greeting. sometimes, when he feels extra playful, his grin becomes eerily similar to a smirk, and instead of giving you a salute, he’ll wink at you. it’s ridiculous, but it makes your cheeks warm anyway. you’re convinced that everything he does in life is to get a reaction out of you, one way or another.
iii. gossips with you, a lot. the way he whispers into your ear without taking his eyes off the person he’s talking about is uncannily similar to the mean girls you see on tv, which is why you’re embarrassed to admit that the way his breath brushes against your skin as he leans close to talk about that guy’s horrible sense of colour coordination makes your heart flutter. it’s even worse when he decides to go an extra mile for whatever reason and wrap his arm around your waist rather than simply leaning to you, pulling you closer and make your heart do all sorts of flips in your chest.
iv. slaps your butt. it’s stupid and immature and he literally has no reason to do it! but he does it anyway. he does it when you’re picking something up in front of him, or when he passes by you, or even just as a greeting. it’s a quick smack that is only loud enough for the people in close proximity to notice, but it’s still embarrassing. it doesn’t help that he has no shame, simply smirking whenever you turn to give him a look.
v. has a fixation with your lips. whenever he zones out around you, his eyes always end up on your lips— though, you’re not quite sure if he’s actually zoning out. whenever he realises that you’ve caught him staring, he simply gives you a lopsided smile and continues on with his day. he’s also the type of guy who carries the type of lip balm that you dip your finger in to apply it, and there’s nothing to stop him from applying it on you when he notices that your lips are dry or chapped. his eyes are focused as he drags his finger across your lips, and he has an odd habit of dragging your bottom lip down slightly as a finishing touch. you end up being the one staring, and when he notices, he simply quirks a brow with a smirk and asks, “what? d’you want a kiss?”
Tumblr media
© trappolia 2024
469 notes · View notes