*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Going Apeshit!!!!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ friends forever

summary: a beaded competition for yuu's affections type of post: drabbles characters: all students additional info: platonic or romantic, gender neutral reader, reader is yuu, based on an ask I got a while ago, fluffy, predictable sappy ending

Word travels fast at Night Raven College.

Gossip, secrets, whispers exchanged in the darkened halls, from student to professor, to professor to ghost, to student again.

The Ramshackle Prefect was beaming, bright as the dawn itself on Monday morning, a string of blue plastic beads on one arm. They seldom smiled so much, and for good reason- but Monday, they were glowing, holding out their wrist, and telling anyone who would listen about the gift their "best friend" had given them. It was an enthralling sight.

Deuce Spade, the poor, sweet boy, had become patient zero.

Word travels faster at Night Raven College when it's about the Prefect.

Deuce Spade had claimed title of best friend with a string and sixteen translucent plastic beads, something that made Ace Trappola itch. He didn't care! He didn't! Of course, he stayed up all night, trying and failing and trying again, to tie the tiny knot on a black-and-red beaded bracelet. But that didn't mean he cared!

It's on your arm, right above Deuce's, on Tuesday.

"Thank you, Ace!" you had smiled, announcing it to the entire unbirthday party. "You really are my best friend!"

Ace looked over his shoulder to smugly grin at his dormmates. "Aww, this old thing? It's nothing, just thought your wrist looked a little lonely with only one,"

It was a rather strange sight: the housewarden of Heartslabyul, his scepter and crown set to the side, his back hunched as he strung black, red, and gold beads over his desk that night. Riddle Rosehearts marched over to you first thing in the morning, set his bracelet in your waiting palm, and marched away, his face redder than his hair.

Trey Clover had forgotten all about homework, promising Deuce two week's worth of dish duty in exchange for beads and string. Forest green and black. He was too shy to give it to you himself, and left it at your doorstep in a basket of tea leaves and leftover tart. It smells of vanilla.

Cater Diamond made sure to snap a pic of his bracelet on your arm, black, red, and orange beads, with his and your initials right next to each other. "#BFFs #besties"

His Magicam story was viewed over 6,000 times.

...Mostly by the same people, over and over.

Ruggie Bucchi had a different take on the situation. See, he didn't have the kinda cash to spend on beads and string and fancy charms, and so you wore a striking dandelion crown to your classes on Thursday morning.

Jack Howl braided you a simple, brown-stringed band to wear on your wrist or ankle or wherever you liked it. You had told him you loved it, rumor said.

Then, all came to a halt.

Word spread that Leona Kingscholar had tried gifting you an expensive, golden-beaded bracelet from his home, (one that would haven taken up half your forearm), and you had refused it. You couldn't possibly accept such a nice gift, you said.

You would, as it seemed, only accept handmade friendship bracelets.

Kalim al-Asim kept Jamil Viper up all night, weaving and unweaving, beading and unbeading, doing and redoing and redoing again, until he had perfected your friendship bracelet in all colors of the rainbow. Little did he know that Jamil had already given you one that afternoon. It smelled of spices, giving away the fact that he had made it in between cooking meals.

Azul Ashengrotto told his staff he was taking a morning off to study, went to the beach, and collected shells in every shape and color. He strung them on black fishing line, and smiled as he gave them to you, free of charge. "Just something to remember me by when I'm away," he said, his face redder than it felt.

Floyd Leech had started one, but became bored of the tedious beading after ten minutes and decided to dedicate his next basketball win to you instead. Jade Leech finished it, and, while his brother was distracted, lined the teal-and-black striped beads with mushroom-shaped charms.

Vil Schoenheit never half-asses anything, friendship bracelet or not. He would do most anything to hear those sweet words of thanks on your lips (not that he'd admit it), even if that means taking hours out of his busy schedule to dye white yarn in wine and weave it with his gilded initials and red, bejeweled hearts. He likes seeing himself on you.

Rook Hunt, ever the nonconformist, fashions you a necklace out of broken bow strings and an arrowhead from his favorite quiver. He puts it on you himself, his fingers brushing against your throat and lingering on the back of your neck for a moment too long, as if enjoying the feeling of your heartbeat.

But Epel Felmier outdoes them all.

For on Friday morning, you come to class with a bracelet of lavender-painted wooden beads, his initials carved into the soft oak, and he comes in wearing the same bracelet, but with yours.

How had no one thought to make a matching one for themselves???

Idia Shroud 3D prints a bracelet in your favorite color, and Ortho Shroud engraves the flat surface with your favorite characters... they make two more for themselves, as if in a sort of secret club. It gives Idia quite the thrill to think about, though he'd never say it.

Sebek Zigvolt hmphs at the idea of showing such loyalty to a mere human, until Silver and Lilia Vanrouge return from an early morning stroll with baskets of acorns, flowers, and pine nuts for bracelet-making. Sebek and Silver both make theirs in earthy wooden tones and shimmering shades of rose and violet. Lilia sneaks in a few animal teeth and bone fragments. For good luck.

Malleus Draconia, tedious as it is, spends his Sunday morning spinning his own string, and lining it with beads, tiny in his hands, and small pieces of smooth glass and stone from Ramshackle. He gifts it to you with a blessing, a promise of your eternal friendship, in this world and the next.

By the end of the week, your arms are heavy with beads, shells, stone, nuts, flowers, and charms, covered from wrist to elbow. You can't move without sounding like a wind chime, jingling and clinking with each step.

Your friends eagerly await your praises, not-so-subtly asking which bracelet is your favorite, or, frankly, who is your best friend?

You promise an answer soon.

Thus, on Monday morning, you arrive with only one bracelet.

Sloppily made, in soft blues and grays, with the cut-out logo of a tuna can label stuck to your wrist, and a smiling Grim holding the hand beneath it.

How to Handle Your Diva || Vil Schoenheit

You’re the unofficial Vil Schoenheit handler, a role you assumed when you started dating him. Whether it’s calming his temper or redirecting his wrath, you’ve become the only one capable of keeping poor midguided souls from biting the dust.

aka the 7 times you save someone from getting poisoned or worse.

Instance 1: Chaos Duo

The serene backdrop of NRC’s gardens frames Vil Schoenheit like a painting come to life. Dressed in flowing silks and adorned with the perfect balance of sunlight and shadow, he’s mid-pose when—

“Yo, Vil! Say cheese!”

Ace and Deuce leap into the frame, pulling the most exaggerated faces imaginable. Deuce’s eyes are practically crossed, and Ace looks like he’s mid-sneeze. The photographer audibly chokes on his spit.

Vil freezes. The air goes cold. The birds stop singing. Somewhere in the distance, a withering rose drops a petal.

“What,” Vil says, so quiet it’s terrifying, “was that?”

“It was Ace’s idea!” Deuce blurts immediately, shoving Ace under the metaphorical bus.

“Thanks a lot, traitor!” Ace snaps back.

Vil’s eyes narrow. “You,” he hisses, voice dripping with venom, “have the audacity to ruin my shoot?”

By the time you arrive, the photographer is hiding behind a bush, and Ace and Deuce are sweating under Vil’s glare. The two freshmen look like they’re seconds away from turning into frogs—or corpses.

“Vil, sweetie,” you interrupt, stepping between them and the storm cloud forming above his head, “what’s going on?”

“These plebeians,” Vil says, gesturing at Ace and Deuce like they’re bacteria under a microscope, “thought it would be funny to sabotage my art!”

“They’re idiots,” you agree, shooting the freshmen a glare. “But let’s think about this. What if... this makes your shoot even better?”

Vil arches a perfectly sculpted brow. “Better?”

“Yeah!” you say, channeling all your persuasive powers. “When people see this, they’ll notice how your beauty shines even in the presence of—” you gesture vaguely at Ace and Deuce, “—mediocrity.”

“Mediocrity?” Ace repeats indignantly.

“Shut up,” you snap before turning back to Vil. “Think about it. They’ll see your grace, your poise, and how you completely outshine everyone around you. It’s contrast, Vil. Art loves contrast.”

Vil strokes his chin, considering. “You may have a point...”

“Totally! And, like, who would take them seriously anyway? Look at Deuce’s face. He looks like a confused pigeon.”

“Hey!” Deuce protests, but Ace is already nodding.

“Yeah, yeah! Vil, this just makes you look even cooler! Like, people will see this and be like, ‘Wow, he’s untouchable, even next to these losers.’”

Vil finally exhales, his wrath ebbing. “Very well,” he says, smoothing his silks. “I’ll allow it. But only because the juxtaposition highlights my perfection.”

Ace and Deuce sag in relief, clearly missing the word “juxtaposition.”

Later, Trey finds you in the hallway. “I heard what happened,” he says, looking both exasperated and grateful. “Thank you for stopping Vil from poisoning them. Again.”

You shrug. “All in a day’s work.”

Instance 2: Just Leona.

The group is gathered in the cafeteria, the usual buzz of conversation swirling around. Vil sits at the head of the table, eating his meticulously prepared salad—a work of art with perfect symmetry, vibrant greens, and an edible flower garnish.

Leona slouches in his chair nearby, tearing into a steak with all the grace of a feral lion. He pauses mid-bite, glances at Vil's plate, and snorts loud enough to turn heads.

"What's that, Schoenheit? Rabbit food?"

The air grows thick. Vil’s fork stops mid-air, his gaze snapping to Leona like a hawk spotting prey. "Excuse me?" he says, in that icy tone that sends chills down spines.

Leona smirks, undeterred. "You heard me. All those leaves and petals—looks like something I’d feed to the herbivores back home."

There’s a collective oh no from everyone nearby. Jack visibly stiffens, eyes darting between the two like he’s watching a live-action disaster. You’re pretty sure Grim just whispered, “This is gonna be good,” from somewhere behind you.

"It’s called maintaining one’s figure," Vil snaps, placing his fork down with calculated grace. “You wouldn’t understand, considering your diet seems to consist entirely of undercooked meat and mediocrity.”

Leona leans back, looking as smug as a cat in a sunbeam. “At least I eat like a king. Meanwhile, you’re over there grazing like the royal gardener.”

The tension escalates. Vil’s hand twitches toward his fork, and you’re suddenly very sure he’s planning to plant it somewhere deeply unfortunate on Leona.

Time to intervene.

“Vil,” you cut in smoothly, leaning closer to him, “can I just say, you look amazing today? Honestly, I don’t think anyone else could pull off a salad with such elegance.”

Vil blinks, momentarily startled, before his lips curve into a faintly smug smile. “Well,” he says, primly dabbing at his mouth with a napkin, “I do have a certain flair for refinement. It’s not something just anyone can achieve.”

“No, it’s not,” you say firmly, throwing Leona a warning glance. “And anyone who doesn’t see that is clearly just... jealous.”

Leona snorts again but doesn’t push further, clearly uninterested in escalating now that Vil’s focus is on being praised rather than plotting homicide.

Jack gives you a subtle, grateful nod, visibly relieved that he won’t have to referee another dorm-versus-dorm war.

As Vil returns to his salad with renewed dignity, you sit back with a sigh, silently adding prevented cafeteria murder to your list of daily accomplishments.

Instance 3: Theatre Club Madness

It starts, as all things do, with Floyd and his unique brand of chaos. This time, it’s a priceless antique vase from Pomefiore’s lounge that met its tragic end because Floyd “wanted to see if it could fly.”

Spoiler: it couldn’t.

Vil, who witnessed the entire ordeal, was seconds away from summoning a storm of consequences when Floyd, in a rare flash of survival instinct, promised to repay the debt.

“I’ll help with your little drama thing,” Floyd had said with a grin too wide to trust.

That promise didn’t even make it a full day.

By the time Azul appears in Ramshackle, wringing his hands, you already know something’s gone terribly wrong.

“Vil asked Floyd to star in some action scenes for his theater production,” Azul says, clearly on edge. “But Floyd... Well, he’s Floyd.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Let me guess. He skipped?”

“Skipped, vanished, and laughed about it,” Azul confirms. “Vil is furious. I fear he might—”

“Poison the Lounge’s water?” you finish for him.

Azul nods gravely.

Which is how you find yourself in Pomefiore’s theater, holding a script titled The Tragic Tale of Honor and Glory and wearing an outfit that feels heavier than your life choices.

Vil sits in the audience, arms crossed, as you nervously adjust the overly ornate shoulder pads. “Darling, I adore you,” he says smoothly, “but if you ruin my vision, we will have words.”

“Right,” you mutter. “No pressure or anything.”

Rook, of course, is thrilled. “What a magnifique turn of events! A real-life romance brought to life on stage!” he says, twirling a prop sword before handing it to you.

You glance at the script and immediately regret every decision that’s led you here. Floyd’s role isn’t just action-heavy—it’s absurd. You’re supposed to fend off imaginary enemies, deliver heartfelt speeches, and somehow “leap gracefully” across a prop chasm.

“Are we sure this isn’t a punishment?” you whisper to Rook.

“Every great artist suffers for their craft!” he replies, as unhinged as ever.

Rehearsals are... an experience. Vil critiques your sword stance, your dramatic pauses, and even the way you hold the fake shield. “You’re not a barbarian,” he snaps at one point. “This is a knightly role. Show some dignity!”

The only thing keeping you sane is the occasional glimpse of Vil’s smile when you nail a scene. He’s still your Vil—meticulous, demanding, and, beneath it all, proud of you.

By the end of the day, you’re exhausted, but no one’s been poisoned, and Vil is satisfied.

“Darling,” he says as you collapse into a chair, “you might just be a natural.”

You groan in response, but secretly, you’re glad. If starring in a play keeps the peace and earns you a proud smile from your perfectionist boyfriend, it’s worth every ridiculous leap and over-the-top speech.

You're not letting Floyd off the hook though, he now owes you a blood debt.

Instance 4: Runway Disaster

It happens in slow motion. Kalim, with his usual sunshine energy, bounds over to greet Vil during a fitting for his latest custom runway outfit. In one hand, he holds a crystal goblet of bright red juice.

“Kalim, no—” Jamil tries to intervene, but he’s too late.

One excited gesture later, the goblet tilts. The juice spills. And Vil’s pristine white couture ensemble is suddenly dyed a tragic, splotchy crimson.

For a moment, the room is deathly silent. Kalim freezes, his smile faltering as Vil’s expression shifts from shock to something that resembles a villainous Disney queen summoning her final form.

“Oh no,” Jamil mutters, stepping back like a man who knows better than to get involved in an impending disaster.

Vil’s fingers twitch, and actual poison gas starts to swirl faintly around him.

“You…” he begins, voice deadly calm, eyes narrowed at Kalim, who looks like he’s considering whether running or apologizing is the better survival tactic.

Before Vil can unleash his fury (or toxins), you jump in, grabbing his arm like a brave but foolish hero.

“Wait! Think of the headlines,” you blurt. “The great Vil Schoenheit doesn’t panic when disaster strikes. He innovates. He adapts. He turns accidents into opportunities!”

Vil pauses, glancing at you with an arched brow. “Go on.”

“This isn’t a catastrophe—it’s a creative challenge,” you say, channeling your best salesperson energy. “You can redesign the outfit on the fly, show off your genius in real time, and prove why you’re the best.”

Jamil, who’s still lurking near the door, lets out a faint groan. “Don’t drag me into this—”

“Perfect!” you cut him off, pointing dramatically. “Jamil, help us. You’re good with details. Kalim, you’re... great at handing over fabric?”

“I am?” Kalim perks up, always happy to help, even when he’s the source of the problem.

Vil exhales sharply but lowers his hands, the faint poison clouds dissipating. He turns to you, his lips twitching upward in something resembling reluctant approval. “At least someone here recognizes talent when they see it.”

Half an hour later, Jamil is threading needles with the speed of a man who just wants this ordeal to end, Kalim is cheerfully sorting through fabric swatches, and Vil is in full designer mode, issuing commands and adjusting details.

You’re stuck holding a pin cushion and occasionally offering words of encouragement, but hey, no one’s been poisoned, and Vil’s outfit is somehow looking even better than before.

When it’s finished, Vil studies the revamped ensemble with a critical eye, then turns to you.

“Not bad,” he says, which, coming from Vil, is practically a standing ovation.

Kalim beams. “This was fun! Let’s spill juice more often!”

Jamil groans audibly, and Vil rolls his eyes, muttering something about how his brilliance is wasted on “uncultured chaos.” But when he glances at you, there’s a soft glimmer of gratitude.

Maybe you won’t have to stop a literal poison attack every day, but you’re definitely earning your stripes as the official Vil Schoenheit Disaster Manager™.

Instance 5: Epel, why?

Epel’s first mistake is thinking he can sneak a greasy burger into the Pomefiore lounge. His second mistake is sitting right in front of Vil to eat it.

The moment Vil spots the offensive food item, his entire posture stiffens. Slowly, he sets down the teacup he was holding, a faint air of menace radiating from him.

“Epel,” Vil says, voice dangerously calm, “are you seriously eating... that in my presence?”

Epel freezes mid-bite, the burger hovering inches from his mouth. “Uh, I mean... it’s just a quick snack—”

“It’s processed garbage,” Vil snaps, his tone sharp enough to cut diamonds. “Do you even know what’s in it? Chemicals, preservatives, and enough grease to clog your arteries by the time you’re twenty-five!”

You can almost see the poison aura starting to swirl, and your instincts kick in. There’s only one way to de-escalate this. Compliments. Lots of them.

“You know, Vil,” you interject brightly, sidling closer to him, “I’ve been meaning to tell you how absolutely flawless your skin looks today. Did you do something different? A new serum, maybe?”

Vil blinks, momentarily thrown off. “I did switch to a more concentrated vitamin C serum this morning.”

“Wow,” you gush, “it’s really working. You’re practically glowing! Honestly, you look like you just stepped off the cover of a magazine.”

Vil preens slightly, his focus shifting from Epel to himself. Epel catches your subtle hand signal—Run, you fool, run while you still can!—and starts to edge toward the door, burger clutched tightly in his hands.

Rook, who has been lurking silently nearby as usual, suddenly claps his hands together, eyes sparkling. “Ah, mon cher ami, how touching! Such devotion, such cleverness, to save our dear Epel from the wrath of Monsieur Vil! Truly, a love as radiant as the sun itself!”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, then at you, clearly aware of what you’ve just pulled. For a second, you think he might ignore your distraction entirely and summon some ancient Pomefiore curse to turn Epel into a cautionary tale.

But then he sighs and shakes his head. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, though there’s a faint, reluctant smile on his lips.

Later, as Rook waxes poetic about your “unwavering dedication,” Vil leans in close and murmurs, “I hope you know that if it were anyone else, I wouldn’t have let this slide.”

“I know,” you say, grinning.

“And you owe me a handmade, organic, non-processed dinner tonight,” he adds, though his tone is more affectionate than demanding.

Fair enough. You’ve just saved Epel from doom and earned yourself a little more of Vil’s soft spot in the process. Not a bad trade-off.

Instance 6: Housewarden meeting

It all starts when Idia mutters the fatal words under his breath at the housewarden meeting.

“Skincare’s just a corporate scam for gullible people, anyway.”

The air goes still. A deathly quiet spreads across the room, save for the faint thump of a pen dropping somewhere in the background. You look up in horror, eyes darting to Vil, who has frozen mid-reading. Slowly, methodically, Vil sets the paper down with the poise of a storm brewing on the horizon.

“Excuse me?” Vil’s voice is icy, his gaze locking onto Idia with the precision of a predator that has just spotted its prey.

Idia, realizing his monumental mistake, turns pale. His flaming hair flickers nervously. “Uh—uh—wait, no, I didn’t mean—uh, you know, for other people, not you! Definitely not you, You’re obviously an exception—uh, outlier—uh—uhhhhh...”

You can see it in Vil’s eyes: hexes. Hexes upon hexes. Idia’s social credit is about to go into the negatives, and it’s up to you to stop this trainwreck before it derails completely.

“Vil, darling,” you say quickly, sliding up beside him and placing a calming hand on his arm, “why waste your brilliance on people who clearly don’t understand skincare? They’re the ones missing out. Why not show them how effective it really is instead?”

Vil’s brow raises, his attention turning to you. “Show them?”

You nod earnestly. “Absolutely. A real-world demonstration. I’ll be your model. You can prove to the entire campus how flawless your methods are by working your magic on me.”

Idia, still rooted to his chair, looks at you with wide, desperate eyes, mouthing, Thank you, oh my god.

Vil considers this for a moment, the dangerous glint in his eyes dimming slightly. “Hm. That does have potential. It’s true that nothing speaks louder than results...” He narrows his gaze at you. “But don’t think this will be easy. You’re going to follow my instructions exactly.”

“Of course,” you say, internally praying you don’t end up with a ten-step skincare routine involving rare herbs and unicorn tears.

Three hours later, you’re sitting in Vil’s dorm room with half your face slathered in a gold-infused sheet mask, while he critiques the lighting for your before-and-after photos. Idia has not only escaped with his life but is actively hiding in Ignihyde, no doubt sobbing into his console for letting this happen.

The next morning, Ortho drops off a neatly wrapped package with a note:

"Thank you for keeping Big Brother from turning into a toad. This is our thank you. Please use it wisely. - Ortho"

Inside is a supply of snacks that Vil would never allow, soda and a very generous gift card.

At least your skin has never looked better

Instance 7: Fashion Show Debate

It happens during the final stages of Vil’s meticulously planned fashion show rehearsal in Pomefiore’s grand hall. The decorators are frantically running around, while Vil oversees every detail with the precision of a hawk. It’s flawless—until Sebek’s voice booms through the air like a thunderclap.

“FASHION IS A POINTLESS PURSUIT WHEN COMPARED TO THE NOBLE ART OF SWORDSMANSHIP!”

Every head swivels toward Sebek, who stands tall, arms crossed, utterly convinced of his own wisdom. He continues, undeterred by the growing silence. “Who cares what you wear when you’re on the battlefield?! True strength lies not in silks and satins, but in the heart of a warrior!”

Vil freezes mid-step, his clipboard trembling in his hand. Slowly, he turns, and you swear you see the faintest shimmer of poison green pooling in his eyes. His glare could cut through steel.

“Excuse me?” Vil says, each syllable sharp and measured.

Sebek, being Sebek, barrels on, entirely oblivious to the danger he’s wading into. “Clothing is irrelevant when facing an opponent of true skill! A warrior’s resolve is their most valuable armor!”

Lilia, lounging nearby, starts wheezing with laughter, clearly finding the whole ordeal the height of entertainment. “Oh, this is delightful. Do go on, Sebek!”

You, however, sense disaster brewing. The tension in Vil’s jaw could snap diamonds, and Sebek’s volume seems to be increasing with every word. If this isn’t diffused soon, you’re going to witness Sebek walking the runway in a cursed tutu and heels.

Thinking quickly, you stride over to Sebek and place a firm hand over his mouth. “Sebek, remember the gargoyle incident?” you say in a low voice.

Sebek freezes, his face going pale. You lean in closer for effect.

“You know,” you continue casually, “the time you spent twenty minutes praising a gargoyle in the castle courtyard because you thought it was Malleus in the dark? Magnificent presence were your exact words, I believe?”

Sebek’s eyes widen in pure panic.

“When you finally realized your mistake,” you add, voice dripping with mock sympathy, “you begged me to swear on my life that I wouldn’t tell Malleus. Do you think he’d laugh? I think he’d laugh.”

Sebek emits a muffled noise beneath your hand, his entire posture deflating. He waves his arms frantically in surrender. You let go, and he turns stiffly to Vil, bowing his head. “My apologies. I spoke out of turn.”

Vil raises a perfectly arched eyebrow but seems satisfied with the reluctant apology. “As you should be. Now, be silent, or I’ll personally ensure you end in heels forever.”

Crisis averted, you glance at Lilia, who gives you an approving wink. Sebek, meanwhile, retreats to the shadows, muttering under his breath about unfair tactics and treacherous secrets.

As the models resume their walk, Vil brushes past you with a quiet, “Good work, darling. Though I’ll admit, I wouldn’t have minded seeing him in heels.”

It’s one of those rare, quiet evenings where the world outside seems to hum in stillness. You’re sprawled on the bed, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, savoring the precious downtime. The soft creak of the floorboards is your only warning before Vil’s hands are gently pulling you into his arms.

Startled, you set your phone aside and look up at him. “What’s up?”

Vil doesn’t answer immediately. He sits on the edge of the bed, arms encircling you as if shielding you from the entire universe. His expression is unusually soft, his gaze tracing over your features like he’s memorizing every detail.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says at last, his voice quieter than you’re used to. “You do so much for me. More than I deserve sometimes.”

You blink, caught off guard. “What are you talking about? You deserve the world, Vil.”

A faint smile tugs at his lips, but there’s something vulnerable in the way he looks away for a moment. “I know I’m... a little demanding.”

You snort, which earns you a mock glare. “Okay, fine, maybe a little more than a little." You laugh “But it’s not like I mind.”

“You should. Most people would,” he counters, but his tone is softer now, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve been working so hard to keep up with me, to make me happy, even when I’m being a diva.”

That makes you laugh, and the sound seems to melt the last of his hesitation. You cup his cheek, thumb brushing lightly against his flawless skin. “Vil, it’s not hard work. It’s a labor of love.”

His eyes widen just a fraction, and then his smile blooms—gentle, radiant, and so genuinely Vil. He leans forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re impossible,” he murmurs, but the affection in his voice betrays him.

“And yet you love me anyway,” you quip, grinning.

Vil huffs a laugh, his arms tightening around you as he pulls you into a proper embrace. “Hopelessly.”

You stay like that for a while, wrapped in the warmth of each other, the world outside forgotten. It’s just you and Vil, caught in a moment that feels like love personified—sweet, steady, and infinite.

(this is kinda a spiritual successor to the how to tame your dragon malleus fic)

Masterlist

celebrating your birthday with the twst boys hcs part 4, ft. diasomnia, the after party w/ the first years

read part 1 here read part 2 here read part 3 here

general tags: gender neutral reader, sfw, hcs for both prefect and non-prefect reader, platonic and romantic hcs, food mentions, runs on the assumption that reader wants to celebrate their birthday, not beta read

author's note: oops forgot to post the last part! finally done with this series of hcs, after this... my next writing post will be another one-shot so see u then!

total wc: 4.9k+ words (700-1.2k+ words each character)

MALLEUS DRACONIA

If you consider him a friend at the very least, please send him an invitation should you hold a party (which, considering what we know of the NRC birthday culture, seems to be expected). 

If you’re a close friend and/or his partner, it should go without saying that you should invite him, else he’s definitely going to be more upset than usual with this particular instance. He’s not lashing out or throwing a tantrum about it, but he does feel saddened by the choice.

If you tell him in advance, he’s going to spend a lot of time thinking about your invitation and your birthday in general. He’s probably sitting down in Diasomnia’s lounge, looking as if he’s brooding over something incredibly serious like the state of affairs in his homeland, when in reality he’s thinking about what to give you as a gift.

In general incredibly grateful to be invited. Whether you tell him the day of or weeks before, he’s simply beaming at the thought. It looks a little ominous to an outsider, especially because Malleus is smiling with his teeth, fangs and all, but his inner circle get the details and they understand he’s just very proud of himself.

Sebek and Silver are probably applauding and nodding their heads in approval at the announcement because yes, who would be silly enough to not invite the Young Master, the chance to have someone like him celebrate you (Sebek) and finally, someone has not forgotten to invite Lord Malleus, and even invited him personally (Silver).

(If you’re not close to Sebek, Sebek is heavily contemplating if he should present you a gift as well since Malleus is doing so)

Meanwhile, Lilia’s teasing him about it. Malleus is in too much of a good mood to tell off anyone for what’s coming close to pandering, like yes, behold! An invitation! You just know if the invitation comes in a physical form, he’s presenting it to the three of them. His more childish side comes up just this once.

And then he keeps the invite somewhere safe somewhere in his room. 

In terms of helping you prepare a party… Well, he cannot say he actually has any experience in the preparation aspect, whether it be setting up the decorations or making food, but ahhh, since you’ve invited him he’s willing to show his gratitude. Magic will do the trick, won’t it?

(If you insist on doing things without magic, he’ll probably still do it, chuckling about how interesting it is for you to make demands of him. Also considers it a good learning experience, of which he can make discoveries from)

Let’s avoid having him set up any tech needed though.

If you’re the Ramshackle prefect, he does give you the option to host your party in his dorm, but he likes Ramshackle a lot so either place works for him.

During the party itself, reactions might differ in extremity depending on your relationship status with Malleus, and how public the both of you are about it. 

If it seems to be similar to the current canon friendship between Malleus and the Ramshackle prefect, expect a lot of people to carry mixed emotions. Surprise, shock, intimidation—all of it bundled up into essentially them finding you fascinating and terribly brave, perhaps fearless, at how you casually have the Malleus Draconia at your party, clapping along to the obligatory Happy Birthday song playing in the background.

Most guests will still find themselves a little intimidated at Malleus’ presence if it’s well known that the two of you are close (or dating!), but it’s easier for them to wrap their heads around it. This is not Malleus the prince, but Malleus, a person you find dear, and clearly adores you back.

If Leona is also in attendance and he is also a close friend of yours (or your significant other), expect a gift measuring contest. Yes, they’re mature, but they’re also boys in a boarding school. Enough said.

Malleus… honestly does not know how to party it up! unlike most of your guests probably do. Most celebrations he’s attended are terribly formal, or more festival as opposed to party, but with some observation on his part and guidance from you and/or Lilia, or whoever he decides to ask, you can probably get him to fit in well enough. When in Rome, do as the Romans do, after all.

Ah, but there’s no need to coddle him. As much as he enjoys time with you, he can manage on his own. He’s not the best at communicating but he was not born yesterday either. The day is about you and he is certain he is not the only one who wants to celebrate you, so go along and talk to everyone else. You are allowed to simply return to him when you’re done.

The fact that he’s trying, even when he’s not the most successful, is quite sweet.

In terms of gifts, Malleus is a good gift giver. Knowing who you’re giving a gift to so that you can best appeal to them is important in maintaining and forging diplomatic relations.

He remembers the things you’ve told him about yourself, about what you happen to like—of course he does, considering you actually listen to him talk about gargoyles, so he chooses a gift based on that. And even when he gets an idea, he spends a good amount of time pondering what specifically to get you. 

If someone teaches him how to order online, or someone does it for him, and you’ve shown interest, he’s getting you your very own special artifact… a Gao-Gao Dragon-kun (EN: Drago). Predictable, but still cute.

If you and Malleus are together, he’s obviously serious about you and definitely sees a future with you. Sees no problem in giving you more than a few gifts, but if you really insist on just one, well…

Jewelry is a traditional, and perhaps expected, gift from him. Obviously high quality, with the finest jewels and crafted with real silver or gold, whichever suits you best. Might get it crafted for you specifically, but he might also give you an ancient piece (or set), one with history and meaning behind it.

If you’re not into jewelry, it’ll probably still be something shiny, probably still bejeweled and created with the most precious of metals, something you can keep around you—a bookmark for the current book you’re reading, a hand mirror, a tassel on your bag. 

If you allow him, he’s going to attach a spell on it as well, just a little something to keep you safe.

Honestly, if you just make a request about something hard to find (but in his scope, particularly something more vintage or considered ancient these days), he’ll be able to procure it. If you’re human, will probably say something like, Fufufu, how bold of you to make requests from a fae. Are you prepared for the fate that would befall you should you not prepare something in return?

He says that knowing the price was already paid, a.k.a. getting to celebrate with you.

In conclusion, time may flow a little differently for someone like Malleus, but because it’s the day you were born, he takes special care to track the days leading up to your birthday. Yours is one celebration he will not allow himself to miss.

SILVER

Silver, if you tell him, makes it a point to remember your birthday (especially if you’re someone special to him, but even as a friend — or even a friend of a friend — he does remember). However, if you don’t tell him in advance, he gets concerned that he fell asleep while you were telling him about it. 

Whatever it is, while he would never get upset with you, he would still appreciate a clarification that no, this really is the first time you’re telling him about it and he wasn’t being insensitive or anything of the sort. A gentleman to his very core.

Similar to Sebek, due to Silver’s training, he’s a good choice if you need assistance in setting up your party. Even if you’re not from Diasomnia, he’s politely excusing himself in your dorm as he helps you (and anyone else helping you) with lifting tables and chairs around, or lifting boxes of ingredients to be used in cooking, or lifting– basically, he lifts a lot.

Feel free to drag him along to cook with you, even though he and others are mentioning that the birthday celebrant shouldn’t be cooking their own birthday meals. Whether he convinces you to stay out of the kitchen or not, Silver’s putting his effort into making something you’d like… as well as practicing making meals for someone.

According to him, he has practice when it comes to baking cookies because he tried to make some for his father when he was younger, so he might make some for you.

Throughout your party he really does his best to stay awake to celebrate with you. You and everyone else think fate or some deity out there must have taken a shine on him because he does stay awake, always managing to catch himself before he falls asleep.

He’s not exactly the type to dance the night away with you (although if you would like a slow dance away from prying eyes, he might just be up for it if he happens to like you), nor is he as competitive as some of your other guests, but he’ll join a few select party games… of which he likely got dragged into by Sebek (trying to challenge him) or Kalim (for that second-year solidarity).

Silver is just willing to go along with whatever you want to do for your birthday. Since Silver doesn’t exactly have the luxury of time most days, this is a great opportunity to hog him for yourself for an impromptu hangout/date! 

And he really does mean anything. Do you want to go to town to visit a cafe or restaurant? Do you want him to take you horseback riding? Just hang around somewhere on campus and talk? Your word goes!

Let’s hope you’re not afraid of small and cute forest creatures because if you’re Silver’s close friend or lover, the little birds and the squirrels are going to drop by to give you a gift. It’s very much a “because Silver likes you, the animals like you by association” thing.

Silver’s one of those people who don’t care too much about keeping the gift a surprise, even as his significant other. If he’s unsure, he’ll ask you what you want — it can be specific or something general, and he’ll select a gift based on that. 

What he lacks in the element of surprise he makes up for in presentation — the gift wrapper he uses is very pretty and neatly done, and when you read the tag you’ll find his note to be, while formal, still full of heart. He’ll prepare flowers as well if you happen to like them! He seems quite serious at first when he gives you a gift, but after a few seconds he eases into a smile that’s very charming and prince-like.

(The only time he’d be a little clueless about what to do is if you were his father’s significant other and the two of you weren’t close. What should he give you? He feels like he’s in a weird position, having to ask his father about what he could possibly give you.)

To conclude, while Silver is normally quite serious, he goes out of his way to make your birthday as pleasant as possible, and it seems that everything really does go right for him — he manages to not fall asleep in front of you, he’s smiling more than he usually does, and he devotes the day to you as opposed to training. 

He doesn’t even seem to realize that his charms have been dialed all the way up to the point that it’s a little blinding to the untrained eye, but as his friend or significant other he’s a much appreciated presence and sight.

SEBEK ZIGVOLT

Dramatic baby boy. As an acquaintance he doesn’t particularly care if you tell him about your birthday a month before or on the day of… unless you’re friends with his Young Master Malleus or Master Lilia, in which case he does wonder how worthy you are to be their friend, but will pass on the message. 

As a friend will pretend he doesn’t care that much, but definitely remembers your special day if you tell him in advance. Strolls up to your party like “you’re not celebrating hard enough, good enough! You need my assistance, don’t you?”

Also if you invite him as a friend, his immediate assumption is to wonder if you’re telling him to get Malleus to come to your party as well, or to put in a good word about you to Malleus, or —

Has a bit of a hard time wrapping his head around that you might actually want him around not for Malleus related reasons. Have patience with him, please.

If you’re a close friend or significant other, he definitely wants to know in advance. He seems haughty, and to an extent that’s true, but the idea of failing someone important to him (e.g., Malleus, and in this case you), or not being good enough, both of those scare and motivate him simultaneously. He wants to prepare something special for you.

If you’re close, he freaks out if he finds out the day of. It sounds like he’s blaming you but his brain is already working twice as fast, wondering what preparations he can make and how he can celebrate with you. He disappears and you wonder what he’s up to, he’s actually asking for permission to skip some of his duties for the day. 

Strong boy! If you need help making the preparations, he is certainly one of the guys you can go to. He’s physically strong and an expert at running around all over the place (because of constant Malleus searching), so he’s a solid choice for an errand boy. 

Sebek and art… he can appreciate it well enough, but creation isn’t his forte. If you ask him about how to decorate and what looks nice, he’s either relating it to something to do with Briar Valley or Diasomnia, or, at the best case he’s relating it to the decor he saw his parents and siblings put up for his birthday parties.

Competitive. Whatever birthday games you have, he’s trying to win. It’s kind of funny since he’s so tall — especially if his opponent is Jack or another tall boy like Floyd, just watching these boarding school boys fight over some silly party game you chose only to get a cheap prize you bought from an online shop in bulk.

Winner of the “loudest happy birthday greeting” contest/game no doubt. “That’s not a real game?” Well, clearly someone put it as one of the games to rig the system so Sebek gets a win.

He eats a lot! The party guest that makes you feel reassured about your food choices because of his appetite. You might notice that the food he touches the least is the one he happens to know is your favorite.

Especially if you’re close, he watches you like a hawk just to make sure you’re doing “the important birthday activities” which is singing and dancing and celebrating and eating your favorite food. 

If you’re in a relationship, your guests may notice that he’s barely said a peep about Malleus today. Actually, hasn’t he just been praising you all day? The first years probably tease him about it, and won’t stop for a while (a.k.a., until they find something new to joke about, as most friend group inside jokes work)

Gifts… if you’re not that close, not quite friends, he really does think you’re just there to worm your way into his heart to get to Malleus, so he just offers to talk to you about Malleus. If that’s what you want, go ahead and listen, but try to let him know if that’s not the case because he will not be stopped, he can go for hours.

If you’re his friend, Sebek’s honestly quite thoughtful. The gift is still very much him, either some nice stationery or a book he thinks you’d like based on your interests, but it’s a good sign that he actually does treat you as a friend and listens to you as well.

If you’re Malleus’ or Lilia’s significant other, he also gets you a gift regardless of how close you are to him. It’s a matter of respect, of course. Probably looking for a sign of approval or praise, he doesn’t want to disappoint you because that might end up disappointing Malleus/Lilia.

As his significant other, he tries to be romantic… meaning, he takes advice from Lilia and books (note: many of the books he uses as reference are quite old) on what gifts one should give their significant other. He pens letters and poems that have odd analogies and big words, even pulls out the cursive, but if you’re his significant other you’re probably already used to it. It’s certainly not the first time. 

No clue about his budget/allowance, but the type to specifically pick out something high quality, that you can keep with you for years, and practical things that he can spot you using in public as well. It fills him with a lot of pride like yes, my significant other is using something I bought! Aren’t I a wonderful partner?

Overall the more you manage to worm your way into his heart and the more he thinks of you, and the better of a birthday party guest he makes. He’s surprisingly very enthusiastic about your birthday, and is incredibly willing to take the lead to “teach you how to celebrate”.

LILIA VANROUGE

Lilia is the type of person who, even if he doesn’t know your birthday, talks like he does know it. Good at getting you to doubt yourself, if you actually told him, if maybe he has the ability to read your mind or if he overheard you while you were telling someone else. If you buy his bluff, you probably end up mentioning it casually, thinking he already knew.

“Oh yeah, I’m going to have a party tomorrow. Will you be able to drop by?”

No, Lilia did not know, but he’s definitely crashing, so thank you for inviting him.

But if you’re a close friend or partner, would definitely prefer that you tell him by your own volition as opposed to him getting the information out of you.

In terms of helping you out for your party, funnily enough he doesn’t always have the time for it, especially if it’s a last minute preparation, but he does want to help you whatever way he can! 

(He could just use magic, but that’s boring. Probably helps you hang some streamers and other aerial decorations, though)

Honestly, controversial opinion, I think you should let him in the kitchen (with supervision from you), especially if you’re not low on ingredients or anything of the sort. Not for all the food or anything, maybe a dish or dessert that interests him (or something with beans, because, you know… Master Chef Lilia). It’ll probably be a fun experience! The worst that can happen is that he sucks and gets a laugh out of you (if he makes you eat the food… just say you’re saving it for the party or something)

During the party itself he, Cater, and Kalim are singing happy birthday and dancing around. Definitely pulls you along to dance, it might surprise you with how easy it is for him to lead you around and even dip you — just how strong is he, actually?

Take lots of pictures with him and get them developed! Give him some as well! Sure his memory isn’t failing him, but he does want something tangible to remember a special day by.

In terms of gifts, it will depend on how “dear” you are to him. It should be a given that regardless, he will give you a “cute and cool, charming, boyish” gift. Maybe it’s a cute trinket with a mascot from Briar Valley/a game you happen to like, or a hairpin or tie with bat charms and ribbons attached to it, a choker or some other accessory in black or pink, something that screams, “you know what? this is on brand for Lilia/doesn’t this remind you of Lilia?”

Definitely gives it to you while he’s hanging upside down. Unless he knows you’ll be upset/mad, will also try to surprise you by popping up out of nowhere to greet you.

Not to be too redundant but food cooked by him is always a possibility. It’s the thought that counts, after all (though if you taste it, you’d find yourself surprised that it actually tastes quite good. He must have either asked for help or was particularly careful in cooking, maybe someone had to go through taste testing until he arrived on a “perfect” dish)

If you’re Silver’s significant other and you know about the fact that he’s Lilia’s father, he’s offering to show you Silver’s baby pics as a present (+ some stories to accompany it), and if it’s really serious he probably getting you something meaningful, maybe a nice accessory that reminds you of Silver’s eyes… or has a protective charm on it. Silver adores you, so he takes care of you by association. You might as well be one of his already.

If you don’t know he’s Silver’s dad, still gets you something anyway. It’s funnier if you’re not close to Lilia at all, like a “huh, Lilia got me a birthday present. Do you have any idea why, Silver?” moment

This probably also extends to an extent with Malleus, as Lilia’s very glad that spring has finally come for him, and even Sebek. Maybe not in the Silver level, but you do get some nice stories from their childhood, and maybe some advice 

If you and Lilia are close friends or in a relationship, your gift might come from a different land (and honestly, a different time), something with a culture and history behind it, one that Lilia can tell you all about. He’s an engaging storyteller, he talks like he was there when the item was crafted, or that he was the one who picked it up from some battlefield years ago. 

Lilia likes an element of surprise in his gifts, and if he jokes about getting you some object or decoration five times your size you have to wonder if he’s joking at all.

Especially if you’re in a relationship or his “platonic soulmate”, he gets a little… sentimental, particularly when everyone’s left the party. It might not be that obvious in his facial expression, but you can definitely pick up on it in his tone — rather, he lets you pick up on it. This especially applies if you’re human. He pushes aside the usual teasing compliments and jokes about his age to make way for more serious and meaningful praise and compliments.

Overall, compared to you, Lilia’s had a significant amount of birthdays, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t see the value of celebrating them. He finds life to be something precious, especially the lives of his loved ones, so he pulls out all the stops to make sure your special day is a happy and memorable one.

If you don’t have any plans to go on a date with anyone (in which case Ace will complain about how you should put your bros before your you knows), the rest of your evening is reserved for the first years to celebrate — meaning, you, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, Sebek, and of course Grim. 

When they’re telling their Dorm Leaders and Vice Dorm Leaders about it (well, all of them except Jack. He doubts Leona really gives a damn where he’ll be), they’re like Oh no, we’ll definitely be back in our dorm rooms to go to bed! 

They won’t be. Riddle can see a sleeve of Deuce’s pajamas peeking from his bag, and Trey saw Ace opening a new box of toothpaste in the bathroom. It’s your birthday, so they’re going to let curfews and rules and whatnot slide this time.

Vil just has that motherly instinct so he knows Epel is going to stay up all night and fall asleep on some couch or unclean floor, so he simply instructs the lilac-haired boy to bring his night routine skin care products. Whether Epel actually uses it is a problem for the Vil of the future.

Sebek is just… a very obvious boy, who’s oblivious to the fact that he’s obvious. Lilia can read him like a book, and really has to spend a few minutes convincing him that no, he’s not abandoning his duties to the Young Master Malleus by having one (1) sleepover at a friend’s place. Malleus isn’t going to get in trouble tonight of all nights. Sebek only lets go of his reluctance when the Diasomnia Dorm Leader gives his approval.

Ortho’s probably the only good boy who actually just says it straightforwardly to Idia — there’s a 99.99% chance it’ll become a sleepover, so he asks his brother to help him prepare. 

Idia’s occasional sweet moments (that aren’t reserved just for Ortho) shine through. Aside from some party and board games, he loads Ortho’s bag with a bunch of unhealthy snacks. That’s what people eat in sleepovers, right? 

If people thought the first years were being particularly troublesome during your party, that was them holding back. When you choose to enable them? When they’re away from the eyes of their dorm leaders? They’re far worse, far more chaotic. 

(Although they all think they’re the most reasonable one in the group, the one with the most brain cells. Other than Ortho, they all lose brain cells when they’re together, bless them. As for Ortho, he just chooses not to use his big brain for the sake of having fun)

This includes Jack and Sebek, who genuinely just need a push to let loose. Competition is the easiest way for the both of them to relax and have fun. Especially Sebek. Yes, he WILL (try to) defeat everyone in a silly human game of TWSTer what about it?

Ortho is 100% the banker in TWST’s Monopoly equivalent. He’s the one stopping Ace from getting a few extra bills from the bank (because yes, they’re playing the old version with the bills and not the inferior credit card version). They also all have different understandings of the rules so they spend a good 10-15 minutes settling on which to follow and which rules they’re making up.

They have a good amount of food for the sleepover, from your leftovers from your party earlier in the day, to whatever food everyone else managed to bring. The only one who doesn’t bring any is Sebek, and he says everyone should be grateful he didn’t bring any, for reasons more obvious to him than anyone else.

It’s wiped out by sunrise though. Mostly because of Grim and Sebek.

They start a not-too-serious fight at some point, where you are obviously the one recording everything with your phone (or developing photos with the Ghost Camera). 

It’s Ace, Deuce, and Epel obviously, with Sebek yelling at them about their rowdiness (while not stopping them), Ortho making predictions about who will come out on top (also not stopping them), Grim laughing loudly while munching on food (obviously not stopping them), and Jack sighing deeply (stopping them… eventually)

Ace taps out first, lol. Everyone roots for Epel. 

The obligatory two in the morning truth or dare game involving everyone’s damaged egos and social media pages, and their seniors questioning them about what the hell happened last night and why did the prefect post a picture of you doing… the morning come.

Ace, Deuce, Epel, Grim are definitely the dare people. Ace in particular is all dares because he thinks people who pick truth are boring (in truth, he just doesn’t want to spill embarrassing stories about himself… which is a sentiment that doesn’t last that long)

Ortho is a mixed bag who alternates between truth and dare, but no one really goes that hard on him. Ortho still gives really interesting stories (most of which involve Idia) that make everyone go huh!

Jack and Sebek are truthers, but they do end up doing a dare or two if they don’t want to answer any particularly personal (or embarrassing) questions

(If you happen to be dating one of them… or, excluding Ortho and Grim, you’re dating multiple/all of them/y’all are a polycule, well, truth or dare gets even worse, but in a fun way!)

The truth or dare game is followed by the just as obligatory three in the morning heart-to-heart session where everyone gets embarrassed about the past and contemplates about their futures, and everyone also cries a little (or a lot, but no one’s going to admit that) 

Followed by the four in the morning passed out on the floor all huddled up for warmth because everyone was too lazy to get in a bed or on a couch.

To wrap it all up, the first years are at their most powerful and embarrassing when they’re all together but they’re also the only group ever, go stan the first years thank you.

masterlist

and we're done! while these hcs aren't my most... eloquent writings, i still had a lot of fun, and it was really cute seeing people in the tags/reblogs talk about how their birthdays were coming up/had just passed and that they enjoyed reading/were going to read it on their birthdays. so so cute!

I need some teasing romantic fluff, can I request the housewardens reaction to being pulled into a random room by their lover and being smother with kisses. Please and thank you 💖💖

Kiss And Make-Out

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] dormleaders

- [𝐩:𝐬] suggestive themes . mentions of making out ofc

Note: Honestly thing took me shorter than I thought it would to write Lol. And I tried my best to not make it extremely suggestive... But I then realized I have free will and just made it regularly suggestive.

Riddle Rosehearts

The hallway was quiet, lined with the dignified wallpaper and polished wood of Heartslabyul’s east wing. Riddle was walking beside you, dutifully listing the upcoming events for the next dorm meeting, when you suddenly grabbed his wrist.

"Wait—what are you—!" he sputtered, blinking rapidly as you tugged him into a nearby, empty reading room.

The door slammed shut behind you. Bookshelves stood in neat rows, sunlight streaming through high windows. But you didn’t give Riddle a chance to take in the room. You spun him to face you, pressing your body close, your hands already cupping his cheeks.

“[Name]!” Riddle gasped, eyes wide, ears turning red. “This is highly improper—”

You kissed him before he could finish.

His breath hitched as your lips met his in a flurry of soft, passionate kisses—one on the lips, another on the cheek, then two more down his neck. His back gently met the shelf behind him, a soft thump muffled by his uniform. He stood stiff for a second, flustered beyond belief, but then…

"...You're being completely unreasonable," he mumbled between kisses, although his hands were now resting on your waist. "I can't focus when you do that."

But he didn’t stop you.

Your kisses moved down to his collarbone, and Riddle squirmed just a bit. His face was a flaming red now, his breathing shallow. You could feel the way his heart was thudding under your fingertips as you ran your hands through his soft red hair.

“I’m trying to behave…” he whispered.

“But you’re so cute when you’re flustered,” you replied sweetly, stealing another kiss from his lips.

Eventually, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, letting out a quiet, surrendering sigh. “Only you could get away with something like this…” he muttered, arms now wrapped around your waist. “But if Trey walks in, I’m blaming you.”

Leona Kingscholar

You knew Leona was headed back from Spelldrive practice—his shirt clinging to his broad chest, his hair tousled, golden skin glistening with sweat. You had timed it perfectly.

As he turned the corner toward the dorm hallway, you jumped out from behind a tapestry, grabbing his shirt with both hands.

“Tch—what the hell—”

You dragged him into an unused music room, slamming the door behind you.

“Oi, herbivore, are you trying to start a fight?” Leona snapped, eyebrows furrowed, tail lashing in confusion.

But your only answer was kissing him hard.

The snarl caught in his throat immediately vanished as you caught him by surprise, hands sliding up his toned chest, lips moving over his with soft, heated insistence. For a moment, he stood stock-still, blinking, your kiss leaving him dazed. Then you kissed the corner of his mouth, then under his jaw, and he let out a slow, very audible groan.

“You really woke up and chose chaos today, huh,” he muttered against your lips.

He let his bag drop with a thud. “You could’ve waited ‘til I showered, but nah, you want your king like this?”

You nipped at his lip playfully, whispering, “I want you like this especially.”

That was enough.

Leona’s hands gripped your hips with a growl, spinning you and pressing you back against the wall, kissing you with fierce hunger now. His tongue brushed yours, his fangs grazing your lower lip as he kissed you harder, deeper. His tail flicked behind him, betraying his rising desire.

“I should punish you for ambushing me like that,” he murmured against your ear, voice gravelly.

“But I won’t.”

His smirk was dangerous and lazy all at once.

“Not yet, anyway.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul had just finished another long meeting in Mostro Lounge. You waited until the twins had left him alone in the hallway before you struck.

“Azul, can I borrow you for a second?” you said sweetly, tugging at his sleeve.

“Ah, certainly, my pearl—wait, where are we—?”

You pulled him into a supply closet of all places. It was dimly lit, a little dusty, but private. Azul looked around in confusion, pushing up his glasses.

“I—is this about the contract I was drafting—?”

You didn’t answer. You kissed him.

The poor boy short-circuited. He froze as your hands slid into his hair, tugging just enough to make him gasp. You kissed his lips, then his cheek, then the underside of his jaw, and he visibly shivered.

“[Name]—w-wait—why now? I-I didn’t prepare—!” he stammered, glasses askew, already blushing violently.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him again, long and slow this time. Azul's knees buckled slightly, and he caught himself by gripping the shelves behind him. His breath was trembling as you ran your fingers down his sides.

“You… you’re going to kill me,” he whispered, eyes wide behind his fogged glasses. “This is too much for a man of my constitution…”

But even as he said that, his hands found your waist, gently pulling you closer. His lips brushed your ear.

“I suppose I shouldn’t complain about having such an affectionate girlfriend…”

You smiled. “You love it.”

“…Don’t tell the twins.”

Kalim Al-Asim

You caught Kalim just as he was coming down the golden staircase in Scarabia, humming to himself, all sunny and unbothered. His eyes lit up the moment he saw you.

“[Name]!! I was just about to look for—WHOAAA!!”

You didn’t let him finish. You grabbed his wrist and yanked him into the nearest room—one of the spare guest suites with gauzy curtains and sun spilling in through the arched windows. He stumbled in after you, laughing the whole time.

“You’re so full of surprises today—ACK!”

You tackled him onto the cushions, landing right on top of him with a mischievous grin. Before he could ask anything, you started kissing him—peppering his cheeks, his forehead, his nose, and his lips with kisses so fast he couldn’t even catch his breath.

“Wha—mmf! Wahahaha—[Name]!! Wait!!” Kalim laughed uncontrollably, trying to catch your hands in his. “You’re kissing me too fast—I’m gonna pass out from happiness!!”

You finally paused just long enough to look down at him. His white hair was a little messy, his golden eyes gleaming, his face flushed and grinning like the sun itself.

“Was that all for me?” he asked breathlessly, cheeks glowing.

You nodded and leaned in again, kissing his lips a little slower this time.

He melted under you like butter on hot sand.

“Wow,” he murmured, now dazed. “You’re… amazing. I think my heart just did a triple somersault. I should throw a party just to celebrate this moment!”

You laughed, resting your forehead against his. “You really would, huh?”

“Of course!! I’ve never felt this lucky in my life!”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was walking briskly through the upper halls of Pomefiore, hair and uniform immaculate as ever, when you stepped directly into his path.

“Vil,” you said, breathless and determined.

He arched a single, elegant eyebrow. “Yes, darling?”

Without answering, you grabbed his hand and pulled him into a side hallway, then pushed open a door into one of the unused dressing rooms. The full-length mirrors and velvet furniture gave the room an intimate feel—one Vil would usually approve of.

“What exactly are we—mmph!”

You shut him up with your lips.

You kissed him firmly, again and again, ignoring his stunned stillness. His back lightly hit the vanity table, and your hands found his jaw, tilting his head as you kissed a path from his lips to his cheek to that spot right below his ear.

Vil sucked in a sharp breath.

“[Name]… this is hardly a—ah—suitable location…” he said, voice breathy despite himself.

You kissed down his neck, and he gripped the edge of the table hard enough for the wood to creak.

“…I’m trying to remain composed,” he hissed, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re ruining my lip gloss.”

You kissed him again, slower this time, tasting the faint berry gloss on your lips. “I’ll buy you another one,” you whispered.

His hands finally slid up your arms, resting on your waist. His expression softened, pride melting into fond exasperation.

“You’re so bold when you want to be,” he murmured, brushing his forehead against yours. “But you should know… if you keep kissing me like that, I might not let you leave this room for a while.”

Idia Shroud

You had to be sneaky with Idia—if you startled him too hard, he’d vanish into a puff of blue flame and digital pixels.

So when you saw him walking back from the library with headphones in and Ortho floating behind him, you waited until he was alone—just outside the server room in Ignihyde.

You pounced.

“AHHH—SYSTEM ERROR, WHAT THE—?!”

You yanked him into an empty tech room and closed the door behind you. Idia stumbled backward, hair flaring slightly blue with panic.

“W-Wait, are we being chased?! Is this a boss battle? Did you glitch through reality again—?”

You didn’t let him finish.

You kissed him. Right on his startled, slightly parted lips.

His brain blue-screened.

Idia’s body stiffened like a glitching NPC. You kissed him again, this time on the cheek, then again, trailing little kisses along his jawline. His hoodie bunched under your fingers as you leaned into him, holding him close, while his hands flailed in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them.

“M-M-M-M-Moe overload—emergency shutdown imminent—!!”

You giggled and pressed a softer kiss to the tip of his nose.

That seemed to reboot him. Slowly, his shaking arms wrapped around you, awkward at first, but growing tighter as you kept going. His voice dropped to a whisper.

“Are you real? Like… for real real?”

“Very real,” you said, kissing him one more time.

He leaned into you then, forehead pressed to your shoulder, still flustered but clinging to you like you were the only stable thing in his world.

“…You’re OP,” he mumbled. “Totally broken character build. It’s unfair. Nerf girlfriend pls.”

Malleus Draconia

It was late evening, just after sundown, and you spotted Malleus walking alone through one of the lesser-used halls of Night Raven College—moonlight catching on his horns, his cape flowing behind him like royalty incarnate.

“Malleus!” you called, jogging up beside him.

He turned with a small smile, the kind that he reserved just for you. “Ah, my love. What fortune brings you to this path?”

Without warning, you grabbed his hand—cool, calloused, always gentle—and tugged him through the closest heavy oak door. The room was empty, dark except for the faint shimmer of magic-laced torches. Dusty furniture and a grand window gave it an old, castle-like feel. Perfect.

“Where are we going?” he asked, tilting his head. “Is there danger?”

You didn’t answer. You pushed him back gently against the wall and kissed him.

His eyes went wide, not in shock, but in the quiet kind of awe that only Malleus seemed capable of. You kissed his lips, then his cheek, then the pale stretch of skin along his neck. Your hands moved to his shoulders, pulling him closer, kissing him again and again—slow, soft, reverent.

“Dearest,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion, “your affection is… overwhelming.”

You kissed the tip of his jaw. “Is that a problem?”

“…Not in the slightest.”

His voice dropped low, velvety and deep, as he rested his forehead against yours. “You wield power greater than most—did you know? Not in magic, but in how effortlessly you undo me.”

You smiled and kissed him again, this time slower, and something in him finally gave way. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as his lips met yours again, more certain now, more claiming. His kisses were intense and unhurried—like time stopped for you and him alone.

“If this is what it means to be mortal,” he whispered between kisses, “then I never wish to be a god again.”

A Confession Through Written Words — Housewardens x gn! reader

summery: you confess through a love letter, it doesn't fail to warm his heart.

tw: none.

a/n: idk I was bored

wc: 1.6k (~200 per character)

Master List

❥ Riddle Rosehearts

You had put your all into the presentation of the letter. You tried to make your handwriting as neat as possible while spilling your feelings astutely so as to not overcloud the meaning or make it look like a joke. Perhaps you were overthinking the whole ordeal, but who wouldn’t when confessing your feelings? You had managed to slip the letter into his bag without him noticing. In fact, he wouldn’t find the pristine white letter until he was getting ready for bed. At first he was confused, he hadn’t recalled receiving a letter, but it was addressed to him, and he carefully opened it, making sure to not rip the rose sticker holding the envelope closed. Riddle wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t a meticulously written love letter from you. His heart rate sped up, his face burning a bright red once he got to the end. He could barely sleep that night, not with you running through his head. The next day he dutifully wrote his own letter as a reply, handing it to you without meeting your eyes. Open it once you’re alone, yeah? He doesn’t think he can handle your reaction even though you were the first to confess. 

❥ Leona Kingscholar

You weren’t sure how to approach Leona with your feelings. He tended to be a bit snarky and you were a bit sensitive about your feelings. You don’t think you could handle him dismissing you or making a rude comment in your moment of vulnerability. So what better way then to write a letter? You knew he wouldn’t mind if it wasn’t perfect, if anything he’d tease you for not saying it to his face, but you could handle that. After you rewrote the letter for the eleventh time, you decided it was good enough and you made your way to Leona’s room. He watched you lazily as you entered. You thought he was asleep, so you placed the letter on his nightstand before taking a seat on his bed. Curiosity ate at him, but he refrained from making any comments, using the guise of sleep to pull you into him so he could finally get some good rest. When you left, he took no time to rip open the letter, carelessly ripping the lion sticker in two. He couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped him, even though he was the best, it was still a surprise to read your genuine feelings for him. He won’t let you worry for long, tomorrow he’ll make sure you know that you're his herbivore. 

❥ Azul Ashengrotto

You had tried to confess to him before, but his suaveness had left you tongue tied everytime. Or when his suave facade crumbled into a genuine care…that left your mind reeling, unable to mutter how much he meant to you. So you wrote a letter, and even though writing how you felt was easier than speaking it…it still wasn’t easy to write. Your trashcan was filled with crumpled up papers with pencil marking scratched out. When you finally had a letter you deemed good enough, you tried to make it look as fancy as you could. Unfortunately, Floyd had snatched the letter the next day before you could even greet him. You watched him run away with genuine horror, hoping that he wouldn’t read it before Azul at the very least. Fortunately for you, Floyd held off on opening it, handing the letter to Azul with an eager smile. Jade watched on as well, somehow already aware of the predicament. Glaring at the two, Azul  opened it later when he was alone in the VIP of Monstro Lounge. He had recognized your handwriting right away, carefully thumbing the pearl sticker before opening it with a letter opener. Azul could barely get through the first sentence without becoming an overheated mess. He’s another one tossing and turning that night. Instead of blatantly stating his feelings out in the open, he offers you to go on a date so you know that he’s serious about you as well. 

❥ Kalim Al-Asim

You had tried to confess to him…many times. Every time you told him you loved him, he just smiled back and told you he loved you too…but you knew he didn’t understand you meant it romantically. Every hand hold, cheek kiss, hell, you both had cuddled multiple times and he never seemed to get that you were interested in him as more than just a friend! So you decided to write exactly how you felt, getting all your messy feelings out in the open. With how bubbly he was, you didn’t feel too awkward handing him the letter in person, only telling him to read it later when he’s alone. Unbeknownst to you…Kalim had almost lost your letter multiple times that day. Not that he doesn’t care for you! He’s just a bit of an air head that has too much on their mind. Please thank Jamil for hanging on to it, reminding Kalim to read it after dinner was over. When Kalim finally read the letter (after fawning over the adorable golden retriever sticker), he couldn’t contain his excitement. He almost ran straight to your dorm if it weren’t for Jamil blocking him. Expect multiple gifts the next day along with more affection than you thought was possible. Kalim needs to get his bouts of cute aggression out, and what better way than drowning you in jewels?

❥ Vil Schoenheit

As much as you adored Vil, he was a bit…intimidating. His lilac gaze could pierce through the toughest metal, but it could also melt the coldest heart. You had unsurprisingly found yourself falling for the star, but you couldn’t help but feel like a fan no matter how you thought approaching him with your feelings. If anything, the letter felt like the most cliche fan stereotype ever, and even though he called you a friend, you feared he’d take it the wrong way. So you decided a letter was the best bet, that way you didn’t have to see his reaction. Yet when you had tried to sneak the letter to him, it was out of your hands in the blink of an eye and you stared in horror as Rook offered it to Vil. At first, Vil thought it was fanmail, staring at it with slight disdain, but he opened it anyway, not caring how the crown sticker tore. He barely scanned over the letter until he read your name at the very end, eyes glancing up to see your terribly anxious expression. So he reread it, this time carefully scrutinizing over every word, and although a letter wasn’t exactly how he wanted you to confess, he still felt his heartbeat increase with every lovely feeling you felt towards him. Closing the letter, he watched fondly as you fidgeted, clearing his voice and demanding you to ask him on a date properly. 

❥ Idia Shroud

You had been secretly fawning over Idia for so long you felt like you were going to burst. You had wanted to confess to him for so long…but you feared that you’d break the poor man. So you decided to write him a letter…er more like a text. You weren’t sure if he’d even know how to open a letter… Poor, poor Idia. He nearly had five heart attacks when he saw your chat bubble appear for twenty minutes then disappear only to appear again. He tried to play his game, ignore the damned three dots that kept taunting him, but his eyes couldn’t stop trailing down to his phone. Do you know how many times you caused him to die? Oh boy, and when you did send it? The little blue heart at the end had nearly ended him before he even read a word! He had read and reread the text so many times you couldn’t even count, and don’t mind that he screenshotted it and saved it to a super secure private photo album so only he could see it. Don’t expect a reply. He’s too busy having a meltdown, hair burning a bright pink for the rest of the night. Do expect Ortho to ramble about how happy his brother got the night before, unsure of why but happy nonetheless. And when Ortho finds out why? Expect a text from Idia saying that he doesn’t mind your presence too much…yes Ortho forced him to say something back and yes that was him confirming that he likes you back.

❥ Malleus Draconia

Malleus was traditional to an extent, that was something anyone could tell. He also always had you feeling like you were living in a fantasy romance novel with the way he treated you. You hadn’t even thought of confessing your feelings in person, a letter seeming like a traditional and very Malleus adjacent confession. You tried your best to write with fancy curling letters…if you failed at that task…that's up to you. What stumped you was how to give it to him. In those old timey romance movies and novels they sent it through the mail…but you both lived on the same grounds. Handing it to him seemed a bit too forward, and you either didn’t trust or felt too embarrassed to ask his retainers to pass it to him. But you sucked it up and went to your safest option, Silver. Malleus was surprised to have a letter handed to him, another one to open it with a letter opener. He felt his breath hitch with each word you lovingly wrote, warmth blooming in his chest. Like the gentleman he is, he writes you a loving letter back (one that you can barely read with how loopy the cursive was), and it’s the most poetic thing you have ever read. Be prepared to cry at how much he loves you. 

Hi! I saw your request was open. Can I request a Vil with a reader who has ADHD? I'm your new subscriber and I really like the way you write!

Vil with a reader who has ADHD

Fluff, gn!reader

Thank you so much, I'm so glad to hear it!! This might end up being wildly ooc, this and the Magicam post are the only two times I’ve written for Vil. I do adore him, however, so I will do my best!

You tell Vil that you have ADHD well before the two of you start dating. You inform him about it when he and the rest of the SDC group comes to stay at Ramshackle, just so he’s aware of it.

His outward response when you tell him is indifference. As long as you can perform your managerial duties, that’s all he needs to know.

He does, however, take time out of his night to look into it online. He knows a thing or two about being typecast, he isn’t about to boil this down to you just being easily distracted. You are being gracious enough to host him and the others during preparations for the SDC, he figures it’s the least he can do.

Before you two start dating, this mostly translates to him just being patient with you when you ask him to repeat something in the middle of a sentence or when you end up texting him that you’re running late because you lost track of time.

Suffering from RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria) actually keeps you from asking him out for a very long time, he’s Vil Schoenheit, he’s an actor, a model, he calls you Potato. You think there’s no use asking him to date you because you think he never would.

But he’s a lot more perceptive than you think, he knows that you're into him, he just waits awhile to say anything to make sure you actually like him, you know?

It helps that he's also completely enamored by you. You are so kind and you show him so much care he feels like a porcelain vase in a museum sometimes.

The actions in yourself that you find obnoxious, he actually finds quite endearing, he loves listening to you talk, managing to find tangents in your own stories to keep telling you things that he could listen to for hours.

He actually makes the first move, knowing unfortunately you likely never would. That's alright, he doesn't mind taking the lead.

"Potato, please stop slouching," he says, hands stopping from where he was applying eye shadow on you, "it's horrible for your back."

"Sorry..." You mumble, sitting up straight again and getting a small smile from him.

"It's nothing to be sorry about." He assures you as he returns to his task. "I just want to ensure you're around to model for me as long as possible. Look up."

You hesitate for just a moment at the comment before following instructions, it wasn't the first time he'd said something like that. He often made small off-handed remarks about wanting to keep you around, for what reason you never understood. He brushed away some fallout from under your eyes before grabbing a hand mirror off the side table to hand to you.

"There, stunning as always." He says with pride, grabbing your free hand and pressing a light kiss to your knuckles.

"Y-Yeah, you always do great work, Vil." You examine yourself in the mirror, ignoring the red on your cheeks that certainly was not the blush he'd used.

"I meant you, darling."

After you start dating, it’s a lot of understanding and accommodating

Vil seems to me like someone who is willing help you form better routines to lessen the burden on yourself, but he’s not about to do it all for you, he expects you to put in the effort.

The goop he uses during your tandem skincare routine makes you want to peel your entire face off down to the bones? Let’s see if we can find a sheet mask that doesn’t do that.

You’re so hyper-focused on a task that you haven’t done anything else for hours but you know if you do move you’re never going to finish it? He’ll be there with food and water so you don’t have to break focus, but reminds you that you cannot put off going to the bathroom.

Always seem to lose your keys, wallet, phone, etc? He’ll help you get into the habit of putting them in one of four specific places so you’re less likely to lose them.

If you're medicated, he helps you set different alarms on your phone to remember to take them (like one of those puzzle alarms that you have to solve to turn off instead of just hitting the volume buttons) along with other methods up to and including a picture of him on your lockscreen holding a sign that says "have you taken your meds today?"

Actually finds you one of those medication caps that have the timer on them that shows the last time you opened the bottle so you don't double dose on accident

The patience is still there, of course. He completely understands that you’re still listening during a conversation if you pull out your phone and start scrolling through Magicam or start doodling on a scrap of paper, hell, you might be listening more closely.

He’s able to subtly steer conversations back on course if your train of thought wanders off four degrees from separation.

He may get a little annoyed if when you lose track of time and show up late, but now he’ll actually call you a half an hour ahead of time to make sure you’re getting ready to leave.

He’ll help you to remember to perform basic human functions and set up a system when you forget to eat all day.

He's not mad if you tell him you forgot about some system or another, or lost your keys again, or muted an alarm without taking your meds and forgetting about it. He's never mad at you and he makes sure you know that. He loves you and just wants you to be happy and healthy and safe.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

Panic Attack Protocol

𝖆/𝖓: THIS IS PLATONICCCCC!! and also adore the friendship grim and the player has ㅠㅠ they're so sweet, OMG giving me cavities~

𝖙𝖜: panic attack, tickling

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: first years x reader

𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉𝖘: 2360

𝖙𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @luxaryllis @thegoldencontracts @waterthatsmoe @oya-oya-okay @writingattemptsxx

It started with nothing.

Just another lunch period. Another tray of food, another corner table in the cafeteria. Grim sat across from you, happily scarfing down a plate of grilled tuna curry, humming off-key. The room was loud—like always—but not more than usual.

And then… it wasn’t usual anymore.

Someone’s laughter behind you spiked too sharp. A fork dropped. The clatter crashed through your ears like glass. You flinched.

“Hey,” Grim said, looking up. “You okay?”

You opened your mouth, but no sound came out.

Your chest had tightened suddenly. The air felt heavy—wrong. Your vision narrowed. The lights above buzzed louder than they ever had before. Every scrape of metal, every burst of laughter—it was like you could hear everything, all at once, and none of it made sense.

“Henchman?” Grim tried again. “You’re looking weird. Like, really weird.”

Your hand twitched. The fork slipped. The clink echoed like thunder. Your heart jumped.

You couldn’t breathe.

You couldn’t breathe.

You stood up fast. Too fast. The cafeteria spun. The noise surged around you like waves crashing in. Your throat locked. Your eyes stung. You backed away, bumping into a chair, then stumbling behind one of the pillars near the vending corner. You crouched down, arms wrapping around your knees, trying to hold yourself together.

You weren’t crying. You weren’t screaming. But your body was breaking down like it didn’t know how to exist anymore.

Grim rushed over, skidding to a stop beside you. “Hey—hey! What’s wrong? What’s happening?! Say something!”

You couldn’t.

Your jaw was clenched. You were shaking. Your breath came in shallow gasps, too fast, not enough air.

Grim froze. “No, no, no—okay—okay, I’ll be right back! I’m getting help! Don’t move! Stay—uh—alive!”

And then he was gone.

You weren’t sure how long you sat there. Ten seconds? Ten minutes?

The cafeteria noise kept rising, falling, crashing against your ears. Your body felt like it wasn’t your own—like a cage you couldn’t escape.

And then—

"MOVE ASIDE! THEY’RE OVER HERE!"

A sharp voice cut through the storm. Someone stomped up—loud, commanding.

“Jack?” you thought.

Then—“There!” Another voice—Deuce, breathless. “Oh man—Prefect—!”

More footsteps. A low whirring. Someone yelling about “emergency student assistance.” All of it blurred. But somehow… safer.

“They’re not talking!” Grim’s voice shouted, panicked. “They’re just—shaking, and they can’t breathe, and I think they’re dying!”

“Grim,” Jack’s voice said firmly, “they’re having a panic attack.”

“What the hell’s a panic attack?!”

Jack crouched beside you, calm and solid. “It’s okay. I’ve seen this before. [Y/N], can you hear me? I’m gonna stay right here, okay?”

Your head twitched slightly. That was all you could manage.

“You’re not alone,” Jack said. “You’re safe. Focus on my voice. In… and out.”

“I—I don’t think they can,” Deuce said. “They’re—like, completely locked up.”

Ortho knelt, his voice soothing and steady. “Symptoms confirm acute panic. Recommendation: tactile reset via positive sensory override.”

“Huh?” Epel asked.

“Tickling,” Ortho said plainly.

Ace blinked. “Seriously? That’s the plan?!”

“It’ll force their brain to respond to sensation instead of panic. It’s unorthodox—but it works.”

“Tickle therapy?” Epel repeated, skeptical. “Man, Night Raven’s got weird first aid protocols.”

But Jack nodded. “Do it gently. Just enough to ground them.”

“Prefect?” Ace said carefully. “It’s just me. And I’m gonna do something dumb, but you’ll forgive me because I’m charming.”

And then—

Poke.

A jolt of surprise snapped through your ribs. Your body twitched.

“S-see?” Ace said. “Still with us.”

Another poke. A wiggling scribble. You hiccuped.

“Whuh—wha—stop—”

“Boom! There it is!” Deuce cried, relief washing through his voice.

Epel grinned. “Okay, I’m in,” and started lightly scribbling behind your knee.

“Nohoho—wait!” You gasped—but the sob got caught in a laugh.

Jack didn’t tickle you, just rested a steady hand against your back. “There you go. Focus on the sound of your laugh. Feel the pressure. You’re okay now.”

Even Sebek joined in, awkwardly jabbing at your shoulder. “IS THIS—HELPING?!”

“Sebek—gentler,” Deuce hissed.

You laughed—really laughed—through the tears and shakes. It felt ridiculous and strange and exactly what you needed.

Your lungs worked again. The noise dulled. The pressure inside you finally broke like a cracked dam.

You gasped. “I—I’m okay—s-stop—!”

Everyone backed off. Grim practically launched himself onto you.

“You scared me,” he said into your chest. “I thought you were dying!”

“I thought so too,” you whispered, still shaking a little. “I didn’t know what was happening.”

“You had a panic attack,” Jack said gently. “It can feel like everything’s falling apart. Especially the first time.”

“Do they always feel like that?”

“Sometimes. But you won’t go through it alone. Not now. Not ever.”

You looked at all of them—Ace still crouching with a mischievous grin, Deuce nervously wringing his hands, Epel offering you his soda, Ortho scanning you gently, Sebek standing like a bodyguard, and Jack calm and unshakable.

And Grim, curled up on your lap like a protective cat-dog thing.

“…Thanks,” you whispered. “All of you.”

Ace gave you a cheeky grin. “You can pay us back by never scaring us like that again.”

“No promises,” you mumbled, smiling weakly.

Ortho beamed. “Recovery: complete.”

The dorm was quiet now.

Ramshackle creaked with its usual nighttime groans—floorboards shifting, old pipes moaning—but after today, even the familiar noises felt distant. You lay in bed, not asleep, just… floating in a strange haze of exhaustion. Your limbs felt heavy. Your head was stuffed full of cotton and memories you couldn’t untangle.

The panic attack—your first panic attack (here in Twisted Wonderland at least)—still clung to your skin like static.

You didn’t know how to describe it. You didn’t even really know it was happening until it was over. It wasn’t like fear. It wasn’t like pain. It was worse, and stranger, and more complete. It had taken over everything.

And then… your friends.

And then… laughter.

Your chest ached remembering it. Not from fear—but from how fast everything had changed.

A soft creak of the floorboards. Then a hesitant voice: “...Hey. You still awake?”

You didn’t answer right away. But you didn’t need to.

Grim slowly padded into the room.

You could see the silhouette of his fur puffed up slightly—like he was trying to look brave and casual at the same time. He climbed up onto the bed with a grunt and plopped down next to your side.

Neither of you spoke at first.

“…So,” Grim said at last, his voice unusually quiet, “you, uh. Scared the fur off me today.”

You turned your head, just a little.

“Like, I know you’re dramatic sometimes,” he went on, trying to act annoyed, “but that was a whole new level. You didn’t even yell, you just froze. And then you started shaking and—and breathing all weird—” His tail lashed once, then stopped.

You let the silence settle again.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Grim said, voice barely more than a whisper. “I just—I ran. I didn’t wanna leave you, but I didn’t know what to do.”

You finally reached out and laid a hand gently on his head. His ears twitched.

“I’m glad you did,” you said softly, petting the fur. “You brought help. That saved me.”

Grim didn’t say anything.

“…I didn’t know what was happening either,” you admitted. “It felt like I couldn’t think. Or move. Or even exist right.”

“Yeah,” Grim mumbled. “I noticed.”

You gave a breathy laugh, small but real. Grim finally looked up at you, bright eyes wide.

“You feeling better now?” he asked. “Like, for real?”

You nodded, a little.

“I don’t feel great,” you said honestly. “But I don’t feel like I’m about to… fall apart again. So that’s something.”

Grim flopped onto your chest like a furry paperweight. “Good. ‘Cause if you pull that again, I’m gluing myself to your side and never leaving.”

“You already do that.”

“Yeah, well. Now I mean it medically.”

You smiled.

“…Hey,” Grim said after a moment. “Next time—if there is a next time—could you… I dunno… warn me? Like, toss a fork or something so I know you’re about to short-circuit?”

You shook your head with a tired chuckle. “I didn’t know it was coming. It just… happened.”

“Then I’m setting up a system.” He sat up with a serious look. “Like, a code word. Or a scream. Or a ‘Grim, I’m losing it’ signal.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You want a panic password?”

“Yeah! Something cool. Like… ‘Flameball!’ or ‘Tuna drop!’ or—”

You started laughing again. This time the tension in your chest actually eased.

Grim preened at your reaction. “There! See? I’m a genius.”

“Sure,” you said, wiping your eyes, “let’s go with ‘tuna drop.’”

“Perfect,” he purred, tail curling proudly. “That way, I’ll always know when you need me.”

You pulled him closer, arms curling around his soft little frame.

“I always need you,” you said into his fur.

Grim went still for a second. Then he nudged his forehead against your chin.

“…I’m not going anywhere,” he mumbled. “Not ever. Tuna drop or not.”

And somehow, that promise—so ridiculous, so Grim—meant more than anything.

You finally closed your eyes.

And this time, sleep found you.

The morning sunlight crept through the cracked windows of Ramshackle, warming the creaky wood floors and peeling wallpaper with soft gold.

You sat on the dusty couch in your oversized hoodie, a cup of tea balanced in your hands. Grim dozed next to you, curled into a sleepy loaf, occasionally twitching like he was dreaming of canned fish and chaos.

Your body still felt weird—like someone had unplugged you and then hastily plugged you back in. Your limbs worked. Your breath came easy. But the memory of yesterday hovered behind your eyes like fog.

The first panic attack.

The first time you'd ever unraveled in public. In front of your friends. In front of everyone.

And yet… it hadn’t ended in disaster. Somehow, all of them—Grim, Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Ortho, even Sebek—had made it through that storm with you. And now it was morning.

And then someone knocked.

More like pounded.

You jumped a little, sloshing your tea. Grim blinked awake, startled. “Wha—who’s pounding on the fortress this early?!”

“I’ll get it,” you said quickly, setting the cup down.

When you opened the door—

Six voices spoke at once:

“PREFECT!!”

“YOU LIVE!”

“You’re vertical!”

“YOUR FACE HAS COLOR AGAIN!”

“Ortho says you’re at 83% stable and rising!”

“…I brought snacks.”

You stared at the first-years in a clump on your porch like an overeager boyband reunion. Epel waved a bag of sour gummies. Jack looked like he hadn’t slept until he’d confirmed your well-being. Sebek stood like a statue of dramatic loyalty. Ortho smiled serenely. Ace and Deuce just grinned like idiots.

“…What are you all doing here?”

“We came to check on you, duh,” said Ace, strolling inside without waiting for permission.

“Operation Emotional Stabilization,” Ortho announced. “Version 1.02.”

You blinked. “What happened to version 1.01?”

Epel shrugged. “It was mostly just ‘tickle them again,’ but Ortho said we needed better structure.”

“STRUCTURE AND DISCIPLINE BRING STRENGTH TO THE HEART!” Sebek declared, charging in after them. “WE WILL RESTORE YOUR VITALITY WITH MILITARY GRADE HONOR!!”

Deuce leaned in. “He’s been reading self-help books again.”

Grim yawned. “Ughhh, you’re all so loud. My henchman doesn’t need honor. They need quiet and snacks and naps and me.”

“I did bring snacks,” Epel repeated, tossing you the bag. “And Deuce brought—what is that?”

“Chamomile lavender stress tea,” Deuce said proudly, holding up a tin.

“…Deuce,” said Ace, “you hate tea.”

Deuce flushed. “I—I read it helps with nervous systems!”

Jack cleared his throat. “We’re all just… glad you’re okay. Panic attacks are no joke. I wanted to check in properly. In case you… needed anything.”

You looked at them. These six chaos gremlins who had carried you through a terrifying moment and now stood awkwardly in your haunted living room, pretending not to be worried.

Your heart swelled.

“I really appreciate you guys,” you said quietly. “Yesterday was… horrible. But you all helped more than I can say.”

“Please,” Ace said with a smirk, “if anyone was gonna save your brain with tickling, it was obviously gonna be me.”

“You poked them like a nervous crab,” Epel snorted. “I did the real work.”

Jack huffed. “It wasn’t about who did what. It was about grounding them—giving their brain a chance to stop spiraling.”

“You should’ve seen it,” Ortho added. “Your laugh response was statistically perfect.”

“…Thanks?”

“So!” Sebek barked, hands on hips. “WHAT SHALL BE OUR TRAINING FROM THIS POINT FORWARD?!”

You blinked. “Training?”

“TO GUARD AGAINST FUTURE COLLAPSES OF MENTAL FORTITUDE, I SHALL ENFORCE STRENGTH-BUILDING DRILLS OF THE MIND AND SPIRIT!”

Grim muttered, “Somebody please unplug the Sebekbot…”

Ace snapped his fingers. “Or, hear me out—we make Prefect carry a panic attack whistle. Like a little ‘peep peep’ that says ‘I’m spiraling, send help!’”

“I’m not whistling,” you said flatly.

“Then we do code words!” Deuce said. “Like, if you say ‘banana peel,’ we all know to form a cuddle circle.”

Epel nodded. “Or if you say ‘potato mode,’ we just wrap you in blankets and put on cartoons.”

“I AM NOT ENTIRELY SURE THIS IS MEDICAL SCIENCE,” Sebek said, but no one was listening.

Grim finally jumped on the table. “Okay, listen! My henchman is not a broken radio that needs backup beeping every time they freak out! They’re fine. Right?”

You looked at them—all of them—and smiled.

“I don’t know if I’m fine,” you said. “But I do know I’m not alone. And that… means a lot.”

For a second, even Sebek was quiet.

“…You’re not,” Jack said softly. “We’ve got your back. Every time.”

Ortho smiled. “And next time, we’ll initiate Version 1.03.”

“Oh no,” you laughed. “What’s in 1.03?”

“More blankets,” Ortho said proudly. “And karaoke therapy.”

Ace winced. “Sebek’s gonna scream-sing. We’re all doomed.”

“I HAVE IMPECCABLE RANGE.”

You laughed again—really laughed. It still felt a little raw, like the corners of a wound that was healing. But you weren’t hiding. You weren’t afraid. Not with them.

And not with Grim curled beside you, smugly triumphant.

credit to @thecutestgrotto for divider

Hi! Could I request Diasomnia with a reader who got injured but is too stubborn to let them help? Idk if you do platonic works but I would prefer this was. Romantic is fine tho :) have a nice day

i do write platonic relationships yeah! i wrote this one thinking of the reader more like their close friend but if someone wants to interpret it as a crush thing i think it could work too. i hope you have a nice day too <3

𐙚 Malleus Draconia

Malleus has enough common sense to not lose his mind over little scrapes, even though he’d honestly still want you to put a bandaid over it. But having mentioned that before, and receiving your very firm response that it was fine, he got the message that you might not like being fussed over.

So he mostly doesn’t voice these thoughts. He doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, and he does know certain things really are so minor that it won’t make that much of a difference if you try to care for it or not. Even in a human body, which is still something that’s sort of a mystery to him.

But, for that precise reason of him not fully understanding the human healing process, if anything bleeds, or looks noticeably red, he refuses to leave you alone about it. You can still see some hesitancy in his eyes, not wanting to overstep any boundaries, but it’s outweighed by worry. ”What if it gets infected, though? Are you sure you don’t want to at least bandage it?” He’s heard infections can get pretty serious, even if they’re very minor at first.

If all other arguments fail to reach you, he’ll ask if you could take care of it for his sake. Because he really hates to see you hurt, so could you just consider making sure it’ll heal faster? He’ll say that even over something like a nastier than average hand burn from cooking, and so honestly too — it’ll really put your stubbornness to test, regardless of how strong it is.

𐙚 Lilia Vanrouge

His knowledge on human injuries is, frankly, a bit all over the place. It’s hard to remember what’s serious and what isn’t when he’s been around for so long, and gotten so many injuries of his own. Sometimes he unconsciously projects his own body’s recovery ability onto others.

Now, that doesn’t mean he’ll be any sort of neglectful of your injuries, though. On the contrary, he insists on personally patching you up every time he catches a glimpse of one. ”Hmm, you don’t want to bother with it? That’s okay. I’ll do it for you, just hold still.” He’s smiling as he talks, not even giving you a chance to properly say no before he’s already taking a closer look at the injury. His grip is too strong for you to pull away, even if it isn’t forceful at all…

When it comes to things like scratches, it’s more of a playful show of affection. He does know it won’t kill you, it doesn’t really need that bandaid and certainly not the little kiss he places over it after— He just wants to show that he cares for you. If you find it flustering that’s just a bonus. And yes, he will still do it even if you’re just friends, just in a more parental sort of way, unless you tell him it genuinely makes you uncomfortable.

If it’s more serious, the sort of thing that could actually cause an infection if not taken care of properly, he’s not as lighthearted. He does still joke a little about how you don’t have to worry about a thing because he’s here to care for you, but mostly to keep the mood light, especially if it looks like something he’d have to take you to the nurse to properly care for. Lilia wonders why you’re so stubborn about the whole thing, maybe it’s a matter of not wanting to seem weak? He hopes you’ll feel more at ease with him, eventually.

𐙚 Silver

To nobody’s surprise, he’ll likely be the most easygoing and knowledgeable of the bunch. There’s no species difference factor at play here, he’s very aware of what can be dangerous if left untreated and what can’t.

He does point out injuries and ask about them if he notices them, no matter how small, but it’s more of an expression of caring about you in general rather than specifically worrying that the bad scrape you got from tripping could make you deathly ill. It won’t really alarm him when you tell him it’s not a big deal, or it doesn’t even hurt. He’ll at most remind you to keep it away from dirt and then drop the subject.

Silver is very quick to recognize what could truly be potentially dangerous, though. Lilia taught him the basics of first aid when he was pretty young, and he later went on to study it in more depth as part of his training. The way he notices and points out things might even come off strange, because he’s usually so laid back in every aspect. Before you can dismiss him he’s already listing all the reasons why your “little scratch” is looking a bit off putting.

Still, he doesn’t want to pressure you, so it might create a bit of a dilemma in his mind when you keep insisting it’s fine. ”I’m being serious here, I’m not trying to annoy you. It’s not supposed to be this red. If you don’t want to see the nurse, at least let me help.” He’ll argue, and he can get pretty firm, but he’ll never cross the line into outright scolding you. You sound honestly careless to him, but he feels like there must be a reason for you to feel that way, and he doesn’t want to pry.

𐙚 Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is about as educated in the topic as Silver, and the difference between how your body recovers from injuries versus his is pretty minimal compared to people like Malleus or Lilia. But. Well. It is Sebek. You can’t really expect him to just let it go, if he likes you enough to consider you at least a friend. He’s just not someone who can be any sort of laid back with those he cares about.

Even though he knows so much about the theory, he does actually get worried if you hurt yourself. Yes, he’s aware that just because the cut you got from peeling some fruit bled a little bit, it doesn’t mean it’s going to get infected if you don’t clean and bandage it within an hour. But every body can be so different, even within the same (or similar) species! Besides, he’s read that poor immune system function can contribute to wounds getting easily infected— And how is he supposed to tell if your immune system is doing perfectly fine, if you’re so guarded even with small injuries. You’d try to hide it if you were feeling sick too, woldn’t you?

Even though he’s the youngest in this group, he’s the one who really comes off like some kind of… nagging parent or overprotective older sibling. Hell, he might even be younger than you, but he’s still pulling bandaids and antiseptic seemingly out of nowhere and scolding you for not taking care of yourself. “You were already careless enough to get hurt, and now you want to just leave it like that?!” He balks at your insistence that it wasn’t a big deal, he didn’t have to do anything or even worry, you’ve dealt with things like that before— Yeah, he’s not listening to any of that.

He might end up overstepping your boundaries a bit in the process, but he really does mean well. It just makes him anxious to see you dismissing your own safety like that, and that makes it hard to try to understand your perspective, whatever it is. You know him well enough to be aware that all the fussing just happens because he cares, and not because he’s genuinely trying to make you feel bad for getting hurt and not wanting to accept help with patching yourself up. If it does end up upsetting you, he’ll be understanding if you bring it up later.

if you like my work you can support me by commissioning me or tipping me on ko-fi ── ᵎᵎ ✦

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕.

pairing: dream of the endless x f!reader

a cursed mortal, a lonesome Dream Lord, and a story spanning one thousand years.

content warnings: angst, slowburn/slowbuild, mutual pining, dream being dream.

⏳ playlist | corinthian & wanderer playlist | pinterest board | inspo tag & asks | ao3 |

🌙  CHAPTER INDEX

YEAR 0-200

YEAR 200-300

YEAR 304

YEAR 304-521

YEAR 522

YEAR 522-619

YEAR 619-850

YEAR 916-994

YEAR 1021 I

YEAR 1021 II

BEYOND.

➥ BONUS CONTENT:

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ ONE SHOTS:

inside of you, in spite of you ⋅⋆ ── [the corinthian-centric one shot, coming soon]

midas touch ⋅⋆ ── [dream & wanderer smut, coming soon]

dreamfalling into nightmares ⋅⋆ ── [corinthian & wanderer, dreamfall]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ DRABBLES/BLURBS:

"I wonder what I look like in your eyes."

"I broke my rules for you."

“My heart is so full of you I can hardly call it my own.”

“You were worth the wait.”

"If I kissed you, I don’t think I’d be able to stop."

“I don’t think you understand the… effect you have on me.”

when wanderer met destruction

goodbye, stardust.

s t a y.

"lady dream."

currently accepting headcanon/drabble requests and discussions for this series, feel free to send something in!

P.S. I do not do tag lists, if you want to keep up with this fic, please bookmark this post or follow me directly, thank you.

Even Broken, I Still Love You

The ending of book 7 has just WRECKED me and I wrote some hurt/comfort because I have feelings about my dragon boy. I put a link to the AO3 post as well. I usually never post writing on here but this piece doesn't fit in on my other blog so here it is.

SPOILERS FOR THE END OF BOOK 7

Header by MagicPaint. AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/63793984

“Do you think I’m a monster?”

Malleus’ voice was uncharacteristically quiet, tone so low that you had to strain to hear him. The question hung heavy in the air.

He still hadn’t turned to face you, staring out of the small window of the bedroom that he slept in during his stay at S.T.Y.X. There wasn’t much of a view out of the windows besides dark, moving water, so it was clear that Malleus was using the window as an excuse not to look at you.

It was clear just by looking that the overblot had taken an immense toll on him. He looked completely different from his usual self. Not only had his usual dark robes been changed to the S.T.Y.X-themed clothing that test subjects wore, but there was something about the way he held himself that was fundamentally different from before.

The noble dragon fae usually held his head high in a regal posture that was hard for anyone else to replicate, authority and power exuding from his very stance. It was a far cry to the way he was posed currently, hunched over as if trying to make himself seem smaller, trembling fingers clutching onto the windowsill. 

There was also a different aura surrounding him that was different from how his emotions could manipulate the weather around him. It wasn’t the feeling of crackling electric anger, or even the heavy, suffocating pressure drop as rain clouds formed. It was a deep, exhausted sorrow that seemed to weigh the entire room down. 

As Malleus had a collar to monitor his magic usage, the aura was, for once, not physical, yet it somehow felt more tangible than any emotional outburst you had seen from him. More real despite not actually being there.

A few days had passed since the final battle that had marked the end of Malleus’ overblot. When he had been reassured that Lilia was alright, Malleus had been taken by the Ferrymen as well as both Idia and Ortho to S.T.Y.X for monitoring and data-collection. No one had wanted to take the risk of leaving him in a state where he risked a second overblot, so once he had stabilized enough, the Director allowed him to request visitors. 

It had not seemed like a wise decision to keep Malleus cut off from the rest of the world as was S.T.Y.X’s norm since almost losing Lilia was what had brought on the overblot in the first place. Leaving Malleus not knowing how the people he cared about were doing was too high of a risk.

The first visitor that Idia had (begrudgingly) been tasked with delivering to the Isle of Woe was Lilia - to the surprise of no one. Both the Director and Idia had been hesitant to risk putting the strain of travel on Lilia so soon after everything that had happened, but Lilia had been uncaring of the worries and insisted that he had to go. 

Silver and Sebek were still in recovery - where Lilia was also supposed to be - and while Malleus had wished to see both his retainers as well, the Director had put his foot down. It was too dangerous to bring all three over already, so after negotiating, Malleus had agreed to let Sebek and Silver heal for a while longer before he got to see them. 

Lilia had also threatened the director, saying that if he refused to pick him up to go see his ward, Lilia would jump into the water surrounding Sage’s Island and swim until he managed to find the Isle of Woe. 

Besides researchers checking cameras and vitals to make sure both fae were alright, the two of them had been given space to speak alone. Whatever they spoke about was kept between them and S.T.Y.X, but it had involved lots of hugging and tears.

Two days after Lilia’s visit, Ortho had contacted you through your phone, telling you that Malleus had requested your presence at the Isle of Woe, which is where you currently were, staring at his trembling form for the first time since he had been taken in for monitoring. 

Normally, you’d have cracked a smile seeing the fae-prince surrounded by this much technology that he had no idea how to use, but the items in the room were the furthest things away from your mind.

Slowly, as if approaching a wounded animal, you walked over to Malleus’ shaking form. With a gentleness that Malleus wasn’t used to feeling, you placed your hand softly atop his. It felt a bit strange at first, feeling his cold skin instead of the gloves he tended to wear, but the feeling of strangeness quickly disappeared. 

A pair of wide, emerald-green eyes stared down at where your hand rested on top of his, filled with an unspoken question.

Why?

For a moment, the two of you stood still in silence as you searched for the right words. Eventually, you took a calming breath and spoke up, voice soft and calming.

“Mal,” you began, using an affectionate nickname to hopefully help him relax.

His breath hitched for a moment, surprise evident. 

“I understand why you used your ultimate magic. Why the circumstances caused you to overblot. You wanted to protect the people that were precious to you and keep them from harm, protecting both them and yourself from getting hurt.”

A single tear ran down Malleus’ cheek as he finally turned to fully face you, leaving a wet track across his porcelain skin. He still refused to meet your eyes, scared of what he would see reflected in them.

“You had good intentions. There is nothing evil about wanting to keep your loved ones safe. If I had been in your position, I think that I would have overblotted too,” you admitted quietly, giving Malleus a small, weak smile. “So there is no way that I can possibly blame you for making the same choices I would have if I were you.”

In a silent plea, Malleus turned his hand around to face palm-up. You responded by lacing your fingers together with his, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Please look at me?” you asked in a small, yet hopeful voice.

Slowly, Malleus’ green eyes moved from your intertwined hands up your arm, then neck, where they paused briefly before finally meeting yours. 

The hate and anger he had expected to see was nowhere to be seen. He could see his reflection, and was unable to determine whether the sadness he saw came from you or himself.   

You lifted your free hand to his face, letting it gently rest against his cheek. Your thumb moved to brush another tear away. 

“Malleus Draconia,” you said, staring deep into his eyes.

“You are not a monster.”

Those words seemed to snap whatever makeshift dam he had constructed to keep his emotions at bay, shattering it completely. 

Malleus began to cry. Tears flowed down his cheeks and sobs tore their way out of his heaving chest as he finally let go of control and allowed his emotions to run free. 

Unable to stand up anymore, Malleus fell to his knees on the floor, burying his face against your stomach as he cried. His arms wrapped around you tightly as if you were the only thing keeping him upright. He held you like he would collapse if there was even as much as a millimetre of space between the two of you.

His devastating sobs and the desperate way he clung to you broke your heart. You wasted no time sinking down to kneel in front of the dragon fae so that you could properly return his full embrace. 

Tears soaked your shirt as Malleus clung to you so desperately that it felt like you would bruise or your clothes would tear from his strength at any moment. That didn’t matter, though. Bruises didn’t matter. Clothes didn’t matter. S.T.Y.X didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered in that moment but the sobbing fae in your arms.

Malleus sobbed out apologies in between cries, and you did your best to calm him, whispering reassurances as you alternated between rubbing his back and petting his head gingerly, being extra mindful of his horns.

At some point, you ran out of new things to say, defaulting to a reassuring ‘it’s okay’ as you held him. Hopefully, he would feel better after letting it all out. You weren’t going anywhere.

It could have been anything from mere minutes to several hours, but eventually, Malleus’ sobs began to die down to sniffles.

He lifted his head from where he had buried it against your shoulder, glancing up to meet your eyes with his red-rimmed, puffy ones.

“I’m sorry,” he said, voice cracking. “For everything. All the people I hurt. The things I-” 

Fresh tears spilled past his lash line, and you didn’t hesitate to cup his face in your hands, brushing them away as they fell. Malleus leaned into the warmth of your palms, seeking the reassurance your touch held. 

“You don’t need to apologize, Mal,” you whispered, smiling at him. “Not to me. Never to me.” 

Leaning forward, you pressed a featherlight kiss against the scale on his forehead which peeked out from between tousled locks of hair. 

“There was nothing unforgivable about what you did. The people who were hurt are recovering, the school is being rebuilt, and everyone is safe.” 

Malleus’ breath hitched. Tears glistened in the corners of his eyes and across his long lashes like tiny diamonds. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” he asked, voice still quiet and trembling. The ‘of me’ was left unsaid, but you knew it was there. 

Your immediate smile was all the reassurance Malleus needed, but you still decided to verbally reassure him as well.

“I could never be afraid of you, Mal.”

The relief Malleus felt was palpable as he finally relaxed, shoulders dropping from their tense position as he leaned his weight into you. 

His head shifted to press a pointed ear against your chest, listening to the steady and even thumps of your heartbeat.

To better support the body weight of the dragon fae, you shifted your sitting position so that you could lean your back against the wall. You refused to let Malleus get up so you could move, holding him close and carding your fingers through his hair with soft, comforting motions. 

“But I saw…” Malleus’ voice cracked. “When my horn broke, I saw the look in your eyes. You looked terrified.” The last part of the sentence was a mere whisper, but the close proximity between the two of you made you able to pick it up. 

“I was scared, yes,” you began, feeling something in your chest ache as you felt the powerful mage in your arms flinch. “But not of you.”

Malleus tilted his head to meet your eyes, brows furrowed in confusion. 

You let out an airy laugh, brushing a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “I was afraid for you. Afraid that you would have to be killed to stop your overblot. Afraid that I would never get to hold you like this again.”

You could feel tears brimming in your own eyes as you poured your heart out. “Mal, I love you. Nothing you have done or will do could ever change that.” 

Cold lips pressed against yours with a soft reverence. The kiss was slow, unhurried as the two of you conveyed a thousand words between each other in a silent, intimate moment. 

When you pulled apart, Malleus rested his forehead against yours, the cold of his forehead scale comforting. “You wish to stay by my side still?” he asked, knowing the answer deep down, yet still fearful he would be mistaken.

“Always.”

“Even if I look like this now?” he urged, leaning away far enough to do a sweeping motion towards his face and now uneven, damaged horns. “Even if-”

You cut him off with another kiss, this time more demanding than the prior. You tried pouring all your love into the kiss, trying to clear the insecure thoughts from Malleus’ mind. Taking the opportunity provided by Malleus as he had leaned away before, you climb into his lap, making yourself comfortable. 

Pulling away from the kiss, you cradled his face gently but firmly in both hands, making sure he couldn’t look away from you.

“Malleus, if you think something as insignificant as you looking different is enough to take me away from your side, you are far from correct.” You let your left hand travel up his face until it was gently tracing the base of his broken horn. 

“You could have four horns, eight and a half horns, or no horns at all, and it would still have no impact at all on my feelings for you.” 

Carefully, you gently ran the pads of your fingers over the broken part of the horn where it had snapped off. Malleus shuddered beneath you as your touch danced across his exposed, extra sensitive nerves.

“I love you because you are you. Not because you’re a Draconia, or a powerful fae. None of that matters.” Your hand returned to cradling his face once more. 

“Of course, having a strong, handsome partner is a bonus,” you added with a giggle, delighting in the small, pale blush that crept across Malleus’ cheeks.

“But I’m not with you because of those things. I’m with you because of all the things that make you you. The care that you show for me and those you care about, how fireflies follow you at night and circle our clasped hands. The cute way you pout when Sebek mixes up gargoyles and grotesques, itching to correct him. The childlike wonder you show to every new thing you learn…”

You take a breath, wishing in vain for your voice to stay strong, but failing miserably.

“- the way that all you’ve ever wanted is for people to see you for who you are, and be able to be yourself, unburdened by expectations and prejudices.”

Tears were flowing down your cheeks now, making you feel embarrassed. Right now, you needed to be the strong one supporting Malleus - not the other way around. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you placed your hand against his chest, right above his heart.

“I see you.” 

A relieved, genuine smile - the first one you’d seen since the overblot - stretched across Malleus’ lips. He leaned into the touch of your palm, eyes shining with both residual tears and adoration. 

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” he asked.

You immediately shook your head in outrage. “What do you mean deserve? You silly, silly dragon. You didn’t have to do anything at all but exist.” 

Letting out a sound that was something halfway between a laugh and a sob, you continued as Malleus’ arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close. 

“If anything, I’m the one undeserving of you.” 

His mouth fell open in shock, about to cut you off, but you forced yourself to continue, undeterred.

“You’re the prince of Briar Valley. Not only do you have magic, but you’re one of the most powerful mages in the whole world! And the most ethereal, gorgeous person I have ever seen. I’m a nobody compared to you. A magicless human from another world with nothing really special about me. My life is so much shorter than yours, and I-”

This time, Malleus refused to let you continue and cut you off. A slender finger pressed against your lips as he let out a dry laugh. “My love, do you hear yourself? You are bringing up all the things you said didn’t keep you from loving me to put yourself down. Just as these things don’t matter to you, it is the same way for me. I did not fall in love with you because you’re a human or because it would benefit Briar Valley. I would renounce my claim on the throne in a heartbeat for you.”

Malleus cupped your cheek, mirroring your own earlier actions. 

“I fell in love with the first person outside of my country who truly saw me for myself, was undeterred by how awkwardly I engage in conversation, and extended invitations to me - being the first person to see me as a choice, someone they wanted to be around. You have never looked upon me with the fearful gaze of a subject kneeling before me, and have never made me feel excluded in any way due to being a prince.” 

He let out a laugh, gazing fondly up at you. “Any and every day with you is an adventure. No matter where you take me, what we do together, or what people around us whisper about, it’s the fact that I’m doing it with you that makes it special.”

“Even though I laughed at you when you were startled and jerked back when they were popping popcorn at a market stall and me and Silver had to fight to keep Sebek from drawing his sword at the poor owner of the stall?” 

Malleus let out a loud burst of laughter. “Moments like those are my favorite. Spending time with people I care about, and learning new things while not a single thought about my royal lineage crosses my mind.” 

Falling quiet for a moment, Malleus seemed to ponder something. With a resolute nod to himself, he resumes speaking. 

“Like you said, I am aware that the differing length of our respective lifespans is a source of conflict and worry. I do not wish to ever lose you. You saw what happened when I was afraid I would lose Lilia…” he trailed off for a moment, but quickly collected himself.

“Even though that is a fear I harbor, I do not wish to give up on loving you. If you are willing to stay with me despite all that I’ve done, we have many years to find a solution… and…” Malleus took a deep breath, meeting your gaze again, tears pooling at the corners of his eyes. 

“...and should we not find a solution, then so be it. I would much rather have lived a life with you in it and then lose you than never having had you in my life at all.” 

Terrified of loss and sadness, and knowing the potential consequences of that, he still wanted nothing more than to spend as many years as possible at your side. A century is a short time for a fae, yet even if that is all the time with you that he gets, he is certain that it will be the most memorable and most valuable hundred years he ever lives.

“You ass,” you choked out with a laugh, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your shirt. “I’m the one supposed to be sappy and reassure you - not the other way around.” There was no mirth or anger in your eyes, and the remark was playful, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Malleus let out a chuckle, chest rumbling. “Who is to say that I am not supposed to be the so-called ‘sappy’ one?” he asked, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “You are truly precious to me, and I cannot in any amount of words in any language properly convey just how much you mean to me.” 

He fell silent once more, peeking up at you through his lashes. “Are you truly certain that you wish to be with me after all this?” 

There was no need to pause and think. You already knew your answer and had known it for a long time now.

“There is no place I would rather be.” 

Eventually, the pair of you fell asleep cuddled together on the floor, clutching each other tightly as if fearing that the other would disappear otherwise. Your head rested on Malleus’ chest, lulled to sleep by the soft, rumbling purrs he let out as he slept curled around you like a dragon guarding its hoard.

And for the first time since the overblot, neither of you worried about what you would find in your dreams, content to exist in the perfect reality that could only be found in the other’s arms.