[Pretty Little Baby]

need overblot boys with epel, and floyd with a reader that randomly lore drops as if they're an old dad like "yeah lol my old school had a shooting once....anyways *SNOREE*" and when asked they just agree and walk away and never elaborate whatsoever💀 if you feel uncomfortable feel free to delete or ignore‼️love ya pookie💥

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ a reader with a backstory

I got u 🫡🫡

summary: wacky reader lore type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jamil, vil, epel, idia, malleus additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

you find new ways to raise Riddle's blood pressure every day

little guy is worried enough as it is

you've already got your school work, taking care of Ramshackle, taking care of Grim, taking care of all the other freshmen, taking care of-

well... you get it

the last thing he needs is to hear another one of your stories

"oh, yeah, that's like the time I got stabbed"

"????? WHAT??"

what's entertaining to you and ADeuce is mortifying to Riddle

if you're not careful you'll end up sleeping on the floor in his room

where he can keep a close eye on you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

you're like Leona's little court jester

and he takes you with him everywhere

it's not easy to get a genuine laugh out of him, after all

besides, what's so bad about a little dark humor? it's not like you died or anything

he knows you're a resilient little thing

and you seem to love telling him about "that time you crawled into a drainage pipe", anyway

you make him laugh; he likes you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Azul indulges you

his white noise machine stopped working last month and you make for excellent background ambience

so, he lets you talk yourself in circles about your school work, your friends, Grim, Grim again

and then you drop the most HEINOUS bombshells in the middle

"blah blah blah Grim, blah blah Crowley, blah blah, that one time I got lost in the woods for a day, blah blah-"

he loses his train of thought every time

now, Floyd is the complete opposite

he will hyperfocus on the most mundane details

and ignore the bombshells

will give you an, "oh, that's cool" to your ghost story but will find you the pair of socks you mentioned liking three months ago

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jamil is just fascinated by you

you as a person, of course

but also the fact that you're still alive

one night, he's explaining the reason he makes all of Kalim's food and you're like

"oh, yeah, I get it. I got mold poisoning once and hallucinated for a week"

?????

then you go right back to asking him about the recipe

sitting on the counter, as happy as could be

"HOW ARE YOU STILL ALIVE!!!"

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil is used to this

he knows that look on your face

he will shush you with a finger to your lips before you even start

"don't tell me, I'm stressed enough as it is"

he's going to break out if you keep at it

he finds you quite... macabre

which is entertaining until he sees you going down a flight of stairs without holding onto the railing and remembers all those stories you'd told him

he's just... concerned for you, that's all

and he does NOT appreciate Epel for encouraging it

"tell us more about the time you fell down that hill into that pile of rocks, Prefect!"

:D

like a kid in a candy store

learning new Lore is like the highlight of his week

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

"talk about having a high luck stat..."

Idia is more entertained than anything

he thought these kinds of things only happened in anime, but...

...there you are

it sounds like you experience more in a single month than he has in his whole life

and you know what?

GOOD

you can keep your freaky real-world experiences!

he'll just live vicariously through you

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

poor Malleus

he's been putting so much effort into learning and blending with human culture, and now here you are with your terrifying stories

you tell him in such earnest, too

you seem so... unbothered by it

perhaps humans are less fragile than he thought?

of course, he shouldn't have underestimated you in the first place :)!

then you come over for dinner one night

"hahah, yeah, last time I was at someone's house their grandma threw a lamp at my head and I got a concussion"

Silver and Sebek both go >_>

Lilia goes <_<

and then Malleus is there like, "ah, another fascinating tale :)"

---

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

---

Rivalry

summary: After Grim loudly claims that you’re "the only one allowed to be my hench-human forever" in front of Ace and Deuce. Deuce takes it very seriously. He’s suddenly determined to prove he’s the better choice to be your number one by showing it to you through various means. And now you have a love struck Heartslabyul student and a jealous cat monster fighting for your attention.

pairing: deuce spade x gn!reader

warnings: very dialogue heavy, the usual stupidity that comes with heartshackle.

word count: 1.6k

Lunch had started like any other day. You, Grim, Ace, and Deuce were crowded around a table, eating and chatting between bites. Grim, as usual, was stealing from your plate despite having his own food.

"Ugh," Ace groaned. "Pairing us up for alchemy project without even letting us choose? That's unfair!"

"It's Crewel," you said.

"Seriously, we're the ones who have to suffer." he huffed, "What if we get stuck with some lazy bum who expects us to do all the work?"

You wanted to comment that knowing Ace's grade in alchemy, he would be the one to drag his partner down but you instead settled on a shrug and said, "It's supposed to teach us teamwork."

Ace scoffed. "More like it's teaching me how to carry someone's dead weight. What about you guys? Who'd you get?"

"I got some guy from Pomefiore," you answered, poking at your food. "He seems nice enough."

"Eh, how lucky," Ace mused. Then, he turned to Deuce. "And you?"

Deuce, who had been oddly quiet, frowned slightly. "Some student from Ignihyde. He barely talks."

"Yikes." Ace shook his head. "Bet you wish you had a better partner, huh? If you could pick anyone, who would it be?"

Deuce hesitated. He looked at his plate, thinking for a long moment. Then, as if the answer had been obvious all along, he turned to you.

"The Prefect, probably."

You blinked in surprise. "Me?"

Deuce nodded.

"You're reliable. You actually try to get things done instead of slacking off. If I had to do a project with anyone, I'd want someone I can count on."

You laughed, a little flustered. "That's a nice compliment, thank you."

Before the conversation could continue, Grim suddenly slammed his paws onto the table, nearly knocking over your glass of water.

"NO WAY!" he barked, fur bristling. "No one gets to be their number one but me!"

Ace burst into laughter. "What!?"

Grim turned to you, puffing out his chest. "You're the only one allowed to be my hench-human forever!"

Silence followed his statement.

Ace recovered first, snorting. "Whoa, where's this coming from? Who's trying to steal your 'hench-human,' furball?"

Grim scoffs. "No one! I'm just sayin' you two dunces don't stand a chance."

"Grim. This is not a competition." you sighed.

"But we're a team!"

There was no arguing with him when he got like this. "Sure, Grim. Whatever you say."

Satisfied, Grim went back to eating, clearly believing the discussion was over.

But…

"So, you're saying anyone who wants to be their number one has to prove they're better than you?" Deuce asked, his expression serious. Something about the way he said it made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

Grim scoffed. "No one's gonna do that 'cause no one's better than me!"

Deuce frowned, but his expression quickly turned determined. You didn't like that look.

"Alright," he said, clenching a fist. "Challenge accepted."

You stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"I'll prove I'm the better choice to be your number one!" Deuce declared, eyes burning with conviction.

Grim shot up. "Hey! What's that supposed to mean?!"

"No! You two are not doing this!" you raised your hand to grab their attention, but your words fell into deaf ears as Grim and Deuce had a stare-down.

You let out a sigh for the nth time that day.

Deuce and Grim were not lying when they took 'being your number one' as a competition. The very next morning you had to deal with them.

Deuce was already at your side, reaching for your bag.

"I'll carry that."

"Deuce, I can carry my own bag."

"But I should do it," he insisted. "A good partner helps out however they can."

Before you could protest, Grim leapt onto your shoulder.

"Well, I help out by keeping 'em company! Try beatin' that!"

Deuce frowned, considering something. Then, his eyes brightened with realization.

"I could walk them to class every day."

Grim gasped in offence. "I already do that!"

"Yeah, but I'll make sure they actually get there instead of wandering off and getting roped into trouble."

"Myah! No, I don't wander!"

"Okay!" You stepped between them before a fight broke out. "That's enough!"

The two of them turned to you expectantly.

You exhaled through your nose. "Look. I appreciate the thought, really. But I don't need to be walked to class. I don't need someone carrying my stuff. And I definitely don't need you two constantly trying to one-up each other!"

There was a long pause.

"... So what you're saying is," Deuce began, rubbing his chin, "I need to do more than just carrying things?"

Grim's ears flattened. "That's not what they said!"

Ace smirked, seemingly enjoying the scene. "Wow, Prefect, tough crowd today."

I need new friends, was the only thought that occupied your mind all the way to your class.

When lunchtime rolled around, you expected to enjoy a quiet meal. If anything went wrong, Riddle would definitely collar both Grim and Deuce. So, you were not worried about anything actually going wrong.

Unfortunately (well, fortunately, but Grim got involved) Deuce had gone ahead and brought you lunch.

"Here," he says, setting your food in front of you before sitting down. "You like this stuff, right?"

You blinked. "Yeah, but…"

"What do you think you're doin'?" Grim butt in.

"Just helping them out." Deuce frowned.

"Oh yeah?" Grim huffed. "Well, I always share my food with them!"

Which was the biggest lie anyone would ever hear from Grim. You had to fight him off every time his paw would reach for your food.

You turned to stare at Grim. "Grim. You literally steal food from my plate."

"Myah! It's called sharing!" he insisted, crossing his little arms, then turned to Deuce. "Besides, what makes you think the hench-human wants you buyin' their food, huh?"

Deuce stiffened, suddenly looking uncertain. "I mean… I just thought–"

"Hey, if you're bringing people lunch, I wouldn't mind one too," Ace cut in, grinning as he reached for your plate.

"This isn't for you," Deuce smacked his hand away without hesitation.

"Ooh, I see how it is," Ace snickered.

"There's nothing to see," Deuce said quickly, ears turning pink.

You sighed, shaking your head. "Deuce, I appreciate it, but you don't have to bring me lunch."

"I wanted to," he said, stubborn as ever. His eyes were set with the same determination he had when he swore to be your number one.

"Then I should be the one doin' it!" Grim declared, puffing out his chest.

You shot him a look. "Grim, you steal my food."

"You're missing the point!" he said, scrambling for some sort of rebuttal. "I don't need to bring lunch to be the best! I got charm! And loyalty! And–" He trailed off, ears flicking as he struggled to think of more reasons. Finally, he threw his paws up in frustration. "And I am the Great Grim! And I don't see you tryin' to be a better number one than me!"

"Because I don't just say it. I prove it." Deuce said in a smug tone.

Grim slammed his paws on the table. "Fine! I'll prove it, too!"

Deuce met his challenge head-on, slamming his own hands on the table. "Fine!"

"Keep this up and Riddle will come here and collar both of you," you grumbled, which shut both of the idiots up.

"What are you doing, Deuce?" you asked the boy with a toolbox in your dorm. Something always kept happening, and you were on your last straw.

He cleared his throat. "I noticed your door's been sticking out, so I thought I'd fix it."

You blinked at him. "Deuce. That's… actually really nice."

You barely had time to be touched by the gesture before a blur of gray fur shot past you.

"OH, NO YOU DON'T!"

Grim skidded to a halt in front of the door, standing his ground like a knight protecting their master.

"I already fixed it!"

Deuce frowned. "You did?"

"Yeah! Used my claws to pry it loose!"

You slapped a hand to your forehead. "Grim, that's not fixing it–"

"But I did it for you!"

Deuce narrowed his eyes. "I can actually fix it. Properly."

"Like I'd let you take my job!" Grim's fur stood on their end.

And then they started arguing again. Right outside the door.

It took forever to separate them, and by the time you did, you had enough.

You planted your hands on your hips. "That's it! I am done with this stupid competition! Stop this nonsense!"

Deuce and Grim froze.

Grim blinked up at you. "Huh?"

You exhaled, dragging a hand down your face. "Look. I get it. You both want to be my 'number one', but you don't have to prove anything to me."

Deuce bit his lip, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You're both important to me," you continued. "And I don't need ridiculous competitions or going out of your way to do things for me to prove that. Just be yourselves."

There was a beat of silence. Then Grim huffed, crossing his little arms. "Fine. But I still say I'm your number one."

"Grim." You glared.

"What? You said I don't have to prove anything!"

Deuce let out a quiet chuckle.

You turned to him, exhausted. "And you. Are we done with this?"

A faint pink dusted his cheeks. "Yeah. Sorry about that."

"Good."

You closed the door behind you, rubbing your temples. You couldn’t help but think about how much energy had been wasted on this ridiculous competition. You had things to do. Assignments to finish, a half-broken dorm to manage, and you had to handle the biggest troublemaker in NRC.

As you sighed, relieved the ordeal was over, Deuce hesitated before speaking.

"But if I did have to prove something, it wouldn’t just be about being your number one." He swallowed, his usual determination wavering. "I… I like you." His face was burning now. "Not just as a friend. I– I wanted to show you that."

Grim gagged. You ignored Grim, meeting Deuce’s nervous gaze. Then, you smiled. "You didn’t have to prove anything for that, either."

His eyes widened, then softened, lips curving into a grin.

© ladyfocalors

Enchanting a Fae - Malleus x Reader

A random Malleus x Reader

Malleus isn't sure why he comes to your dorm so often. His booted feet take him there automatically, he supposes. If Lilia were to ask him, he's just making the rounds on his usual haunts and looking for pieces of forgotten grotesques and gargoyles in need of cleaning. Ramshackle was a prime destination for all things forgotten and dusty, after all.

Perhaps it can also be a home to things muddy and sopping.

A small smile twists the edges of Malleus' lips as he blinks rain from his emerald eyes. It's ironic that he, future King of Briar Valley and fifth most powerful mage in the world, was caught unaware by the weather.

How very human. It's a beautiful experience, to drown in the quiet hush of rain.

He steps lightly but with purpose, long shadow breezing up the walkway to your door. It swells as lightning tap-dances behind him. Thunder rumbles, much like the sound he tries to swallow down as you crack the door open hesitantly, face melting into one of welcome.

Oh, child of man...Malleus feels the warm swirl in his chest tighten as you take his hand and pull him inside. He ducks his head, finally remembering to pull his horns down enough so they don't scrape the frame like they have in the past.. "Fae are supposed to be invited in," he reminds you. "And I told you, you always have a standing invitation." you say with a gentle dismissiveness that both humbles and endears him. You continue to show him that you care not for his title or his princely demands. You treat him like all the others. He does his best to stand on the welcome mat you thrifted, afraid the water will rot the ancient floor and leave you with something else to fix. You scurry back with towels and some spare clothes that smell like human. Not you, but human. Malleus can't stop the angry rumble in his throat as he realizes that smell is probably from your human friends at Heartslabyul. Clothes for other men? Disgusting. You always forget he has another set of vocal chords and he excuses the noise as 'clearing his throat'. "It's all I have," you murmur, unsure now if you should take the offer back. He can tell you're still debating that uncouth noise, the slip of the tongue.

"I accept your generosity." Malleus knows it won't be a perfect fit, but it would do better than your clothes. Not that he didn't like the idea of adorning himself in your scent. Turning away from you a little, Malleus removes the purple striped belt at his waist and undoes the many gold buttons on his curious coat. You can't tell what the black shirt is underneath but it sticks to him and you find yourself trying to tear your eyes away and commit him to memory all at once.

Not in the creepy way! Just in the 'I've never seen Malleus in just gloves, a shirt, pants, and boots before' kind of way. He's none the wiser, realizing he has a real problem on his hands. The gloves he chose are water resistant but they've somehow gone flush against his slick skin and feel more like a seal than a savior. His draconian nails cannot save him, blunted and useless in the leather. Should he use his teeth? What if he hooked them on the edge of a horn and just shimmied it off? You can practically read his mind and grab his hand before he can raise it near his head. "Don't do that! You'll ruin them!" you give a huffy laugh at his simple, boyish logic and it takes every ounce of control from all his decades of walking upright to keep his tail from smashing a hole in your floor.

He watches you drape the loaner clothes around your neck like some sort of scarf as you motion for his hand.

Your hands are almost cartoonishly small in his as they trace the stitching and try to feel for any buttons or ridges. Small, but so considerate and so warm. Dragons run warm from the fire and magic in their blood but he cannot explain why your touch is absolutely radiating and searing him in the most comforting way through the leather. He almost hopes you never figure out how to take them off so you can just fiddle with his hands forever. Malleus relaxes into your touch, basking in the care and attention.

His hopes are dashed when the glove separates slightly from his lax wrist and you free his hand. You pull off the other one. If he had no shame, he'd make a cool request for you to hold them and warm them. "Boots off, then change." you give him a small rag for his hands and point to his feet. Delighted and somewhat surprised to be your willing subject, Malleus obeys and starts to take off his boots.

He braces himself against your wall with one hand, mindful not to put himself through it like he almost did the mine tunnel at Beanfest. One boot off, he wrestles blindly with the other. Malleus is much more interested in how you tend to the pitiful fire in your fireplace. Your back is to him and whatever you're wearing leaves you shapeless but cozy. The embers crackle in the hearth, the light dancing across your face in a way that makes something baser claw at the pit of his stomach.

Shiny thing. Dragons like shiny things. You would be a most gorgeous shiny thing. Always ethereal, no matter what you're wearing or doing. If you would permit him, you would be his most valued treasure.

His heart sings at the thought, almost tying itself in a knot. That low, tingling feeling comes back to him and Malleus wants to croon his Dragon Song. It would fall on deaf ears, so to speak, as you have no dragon blood to appeal to. "Your eyes are doing that thing again." Malleus flinched a little, green fire sparking in his mouth as a warning puff of smoke dissipated between you. He didn't realize you'd come upon him again. The dragon relaxed, turning his head away as he exhaled the building smoke through his nose before it could send him into an undignified coughing fit.

Lilia had been consulting his grandmother on some behaviors as of late and both arrived to the same conclusion: he's experiencing draconian puberty. 'The thing' his eyes do are a sign of said puberty. It is the unfurling of all his emotions, the dilation of his eyes signaling his interest and trying to draw you ever deeper to him. In a way, it is a thrall, but it leaves him at your mercy as much as it should leave you in his.

Somehow, you don't take it as hard. If his world wasn't a sudden explosion of the scent of your skin and soap, the heat of your body, and the curious fondness with which you look at him, he would ponder this injustice further.

But he does not. Right now he can't even find the words for a simple lie, a diversion, as he breathes in the smell of you and tries not to melt. To have you touch him right now would be the worst thing but he's never wanted it more. He wants so badly to sink his fangs into your wrist, your neck, and let you wear the affectionate bruises like a family crest. His family crest.

"You're supposed to be getting changed," you admonish him.

"Mmm, but I can't," Malleus refrains from snuggling into the small towel you're blotting against his face. He closes his eyes and tries to sense the heat of your hand through the fabric as you move carefully around his lashes. "I'm being tended to and it would be rude to interrupt," he teases.

"No point in giving you dry clothes if you're going to get them wet putting them on." you laugh. He swallows thickly as you brush his throat dry. "Now go change," you swat him with the rag. Body towel and clothes in one hand, damp footprints follow Malleus to a spare room.

As he suspected, the clothes were ill-fit for his frame. Spade and Trappola were smaller than he was, being human and all. It was another thing entirely to get the shirt over his head without shredding it on his horns. He's afraid to move his arms too much and hopes he's not offending you by pulling the pants low enough to give his tail room. You've just finished laying his clothes out on dry towels before the fire and he's grateful.

It is a dying fire. You have a small supply of kindling and old papers to feed it but he doesn't think it will be enough. "I would like to repay your generosity with a gift. May I?" "You know you don't have to get me anything," you wave him off. He's not sure if it's a human trait or a you trait but you don't take easily to gifts.

"But it is practical and will serve us both," he knows he's caught your attention. He can see you trying to figure out what kind of gift that would be. Malleus approaches the fire, kneels down, and breathes it in. Dragons who can breathe fire, like himself, can convert outside sources of heat to their fire on rare occasions. You jump when he spits out a green flame and it roars to life, casting the walls in jeweled light and emitting a heat you didn't know you missed.

"Cozy!" you chirp. It was a gentle kind of heat that would be perfect for snuggling under a blanket. He sits on the other end of the sofa, a respectful cushion between you, and rests his head on a hand as he looks at you.

"And it will last much longer! You needn't fret about it getting out of control, either. It is my fire, and I can control it." he sees the beginning of sleep on you. Malleus grew up with Silver and was all too familiar with the slow descent into a nap. You make a valiant effort, he will give you that. You're in the middle of a soft argument about being rude to company and Malleus laughs despite himself.

He dropped in uninvited. Certainly that's more rude, yes?

The two of you lapse into a comfortable silence, the fae more amused than he has been in a long time as your eyes get heavier. You look stunning in the green glow and he can't help but think you'd look just as ravishing in black.

In a crown. On a throne. In his bed. All of these things have the Dragon Song welling up in him again. The buzzing in his chest closes off his ears; Malleus jumps to alertness as you tug gently on the ends of his dark hair. "You let your hair down. It'll get weird if it dries in a ponytail holder."

It takes some effort, but he untangles it from his hair. "What shall I do about you, Child of Man?" he muses. "I will be forever indebted to your attentiveness."

"Did you find anything cool on your walk? You always show me." your eyes twinkle with the vestiges of consciousness. This is your one final push before succumbing to sleep, he can tell. He did, in fact, find things to show you and had forgotten them until now. When you're drenched, everything just feels heavy and soaked through. Malleus fishes the random items from his coat pocket and settles back down on the couch.

You've seen all manner of things at this point--feathers, polished rocks, twisted roots that looked interesting, pieces of statues, actual gems--and it never gets old. He presents you with a rock carved into the shape of a bear, a chunk of what might have been an old cup, and a ring.

The ring doesn't catch your eye right away. You're too busy playing with the bear. He wiggles his hand so the firelight catches it and you still. Malleus takes the bear from you, flipping your hand over to slide it on your finger. "A gift, my dearest."

"Malleus, I--" you start to protest.

"We fae are no strangers to offerings, both giving and receiving. It would be a disservice to present you with anything less." he speaks over you, his words gentle but commanding. He kisses your hand.

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought of dating him. It just seemed a little silly--a random no-name person and the fae prince? What kind of cliche was this?

A handsome one that was staring you right in the face.

"If you'd like more, the best I can offer you is a kingdom." he teases, lounging back against the sofa. He said it so casually that it caught you off guard. You're face is almost unbearably hot and Malleus chuckles.

"A whole kingdom?" you finally recover. "I'll take it."

Oh, there it went. Malleus felt the trap snap shut on his heart. This was the lethal moment Lilia warned him. He was helplessly smitten and enchanted. Irreversibly so.

"Truly?" he's before you in a second, one hand around your waist and the other holding the one with the ring. "Now is not the time to jest, Child of Man. I offer you my heart in earnest and the reply must be just as true!" he's staring up at you through his bangs and you swear you see more scales on his forehead.

"W-Well, yeah," you stutter. "I wouldn't mind. Just kind of thought we would do more dates and stuff first," your face was heating up again.

"We shall, as many as you like!" he's scooped you up in one arm, cradling you to his chest. You threw your legs around him so you didn't fall backwards but he doesn't notice, pulling your other hand over his shoulder. "Every day, even! As soon as the weather clears, in fact!" "But it'll be dark out!" you protest. Malleus probably could change the weather if he wanted but that wouldn't stop the ground from squelching and things being nasty. He stopped excitedly rambling about walks and things to do.

"We've walked in the dark before?" he doesn't understand why you don't want to go out this particular time. "And I have seen you to your door, safe and sound every time."

"But we're already here. Together. Inside." you explain slowly. "Maybe we could...cuddle...a little."

Oh yes. Splendid idea! Malleus all but dives for the couch at the suggestion. It is a paltry nest but it's yours. You're still recovering from the recoil, glad he fell back first and didn't squish you.

Did you just hear something rip? You hope he didn't break the couch. You don't get much time to think about it as he pulls you close and tucks you under his chin like he's been rehearsing it with a pillow. He's just the right combination of soft and muscle, of guard and gentle as he figures out where to put his hands. He settles for one supporting his head and the other cradling yours.

It's very awkward because he's mostly off the couch but he can't be bothered. You're slowly drifting to sleep in his arms and he's never felt more joy. He watches with deep interested, practically holding his breath as you sleep. Faes don't need as much sleep as humans but he doesn't think he could sleep if he tried because you've been courted by him!

Malleus is roused by his phone sometime later. The couch is small and cumbersome to him but it's held up. He begrudgingly untangled himself from you to answer it, long arm just reaching it on the table.

"Yes?"

It's Lilia. "Where are you, young man? We've been trying to reach you!"

He had fifteen missed calls from Sebek, eight from Lilia, and some text messages from Silver.

"Ensnared, I fear." Malleus smiles into the crown of your head. "I'm doomed to languish in absolute bliss. It's a very powerful enchantment, you see."

"Taken the leap, have you, Malleus?" he could hear the smile in Lilia's voice.

"I have, and I've landed in something quite wonderful."

"We fae are supposed to trick and trap, not the other way around! But...at least you're safe. Make it known that I will not tolerate--"

"Any eggs before marriage." Malleus rolled his eyes. He'd only heard that a million times recently.

"If you're not back at Diasomnia in two hours, I'll break that enchantment myself. Understood?"

"And if I object?" Malleus challenged, patting your head as you began to move.

There was a moment of silence. "I shall tell your grandmother."

Malleus hung up.

That might do the trick, he thought, brows raised. His grandmother was from an older generation of fae who were still entrenched in anti-human beliefs. Would she love you because he did? Could you enchant her, too? One look at your sleeping face, so at peace and pressed up against him, had him convinced.

Yes, he was pretty sure you could enchant any fae. It certainly worked on him.

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.”

What if yuu died?

(I'm feeling angsty >:]) ((I kept crying while writing this))

DWARF'S MINE:

Grim

Grim is the first one to notice.

They were bickering, as usual. Yuu told him not to wander off. He called them bossy and sauntered ahead. He thought Yuu was right behind him until he heard the rumble.

When Grim turns around, the mine is collapsing. He hears a scream—their scream—and then nothing.

At first, Grim is in denial. “They’re probably fine! Just hiding like a scaredy-cat!” he yells, ears flat, tail bristled. He digs at the rocks, paws trembling, not because he’s weak but because he’s scared. His tiny claws scrape until they bleed.

Later, when the truth settles in, Grim doesn’t talk for days. No bragging. No yelling. He just curls up on the couch in Ramshackle, staring at the door like he’s waiting for Yuu to walk through it.

He starts blaming himself. Quietly. “I shoulda protected them… I’m the Great Grim, right? What good is all this power if I couldn’t save 'em…”

Ace Trappola

Ace puts up a wall.

He makes some stupid comment at first. “They seriously died that easily? Weak…”

But his voice cracks halfway through. He avoids eye contact with Deuce and walks away before anyone can see him clench his fists.

Later, Ace returns to the mine alone. He just stands at the spot where the rocks fell, chewing on the inside of his cheek. “Dumbass… you weren’t even supposed to be here. What were you thinking, coming down here without magic?”

If anyone tries to talk to him about it, he brushes them off. But sometimes, when no one's looking, he stares at Ramshackle’s gate like he wants to go up and say something—but always turns around.

Deuce Spade

Deuce takes it hard.

He was right there. He thought he was being responsible. He was supposed to look out for the magicless student, right?

“I failed them…” “I should’ve noticed something was wrong…” “If I’d just reacted faster…”

He says things like that a lot. Grim won’t talk. Ace won’t listen. So Deuce just keeps repeating it to himself.

He visits Ramshackle and helps clean it up. Makes sure the firewood is stacked, the beds are neat—even though no one lives there anymore. “I just… want to keep it ready. In case they come back. Somehow.”

Crowley

Crowley is... complicated.

Publicly, he spins it as a “tragic accident”—“A rare, unfortunate incident during a school-sanctioned task! We shall honor our lost guest!” He uses big words and flashy speeches, and pretends like this wasn’t his fault.

But when he’s alone in his office, he looks at the file with Yuu’s name and wonders if he ever even really tried to help them.

He sent a magicless teen to mine with unstable students and monsters.

He knew they were different. Vulnerable. And yet, he brushed it off.

There’s a note he writes but never sends, addressed to the mirror that summoned Yuu:

“This realm took what it never should have touched. And now it has blood on its hands.”

He keeps the key to Ramshackle on his desk. Every time he sees it, he flinches.

RIDDLE'S OVERBLOT

Grim

He saw it happen.

He was right there—he saw the blast coming, and he tried to drag Yuu back, but they slipped from his grip.

“Yuu?” he calls out, paw nudging at their arm. “Hey. Hey, c’mon, this ain’t funny. Get up.”

He tries to laugh it off at first. Grim doesn’t do death. He doesn’t understand it. Not really.

But when the healers come and shake their heads, when no one responds, something inside Grim shatters.

His magic starts reacting wildly. He growls and sparks with unstable fire, yelling at Riddle’s unconscious body like it’s his fault. “You ruined everything! They’re gone and it’s because of YOU!”

Afterward, he won’t eat. Won’t talk. He curls up in Yuu’s bed with their uniform jacket tucked under his chin, tail limp.

“They promised we’d figure stuff out together... Now I gotta do it alone?”

Ace Trappola

Ace flips out.

Not right away. First, it’s disbelief. “No, no, they’re gonna get up. Right? Deuce? Tell me they’re fine.”

Then, it’s anger. At Riddle. At Cater and Trey for not stopping it. At himself.

He slams his fist into a wall so hard his knuckles bleed. “I should’ve pulled them out. I saw the signs. I knew something was gonna happen.”

He gets snappy. Bitter. Starts arguments with anyone who tries to sugarcoat it. “They didn’t ‘pass peacefully.’ They got caught up in some overblot crap that wasn’t even their fault!”

He avoids Ramshackle. Too many memories. Too much guilt.

But he keeps Yuu’s student ID in his jacket pocket.

Deuce Spade

Deuce cries.

He tries to hold it in, tries to be strong—because that’s what he thinks Yuu would’ve wanted—but the tears come anyway. He sobs into his hands when no one’s looking, shaking with the weight of regret.

“I promised to protect them…” he whispers.

He keeps up their dorm. Keeps bringing food to Grim, even if the little guy won’t touch it. He visits Crowley’s office demanding answers, demanding justice, yelling that this shouldn’t have happened.

Deuce becomes the one who remembers the little things—how Yuu liked their tea, the dumb jokes they told, the way they always said "I've got your back" even without magic.

And he makes sure everyone else remembers too.

Riddle Rosehearts

When he wakes up from the overblot and hears the news, he goes silent.

He doesn't cry. Doesn’t scream. He just… shuts down.

He asks to see the body. Crowley says no.

So Riddle walks to the rose maze himself, stands in the spot where Yuu fell, and just stares at the blood-stained petals.

“I didn’t mean to…”

He says it to no one. Over and over. A mantra. A curse.

He writes an apology note but tears it up. Who would it even go to?

Trey and Cater notice the shift—Riddle becomes harsher on himself. More rigid. Less confident. Because deep down, he knows:

Someone died because he lost control.

Cater Diamond

Cater’s smile doesn’t slip right away.

He’s used to filtering his emotions. Used to staying “on brand,” even when he’s horrified. So when he sees Yuu’s lifeless form after the magic storm clears, he just… freezes.

“H-Haha… no way, right? This has to be a prank. Right, Riddle?”

No one answers. Grim is howling. Ace is screaming. Deuce is crying.

Cater’s hands start to shake.

Later, he’ll post nothing. Not even a filtered picture. He'll ghost Magicam for a while.

He tries to visit Ramshackle once, to drop off a bouquet of marigolds and forget-me-nots—but the door creaks open and he sees Grim curled up on the couch, and he just can’t do it.

“I didn’t even know them,” he murmurs to himself, “and it still hurts this bad… What about the ones who did?”

Trey Clover

Trey stays composed. He always does.

He takes over when everyone else is falling apart—helping stabilize the overblot aftermath, escorting Riddle away from the scene, offering Deuce a tissue, shielding Cater from seeing too much.

But when he's alone in the kitchen later, making a tart for no one, he lets himself break a little.

His knife pauses mid-slice. A cherry slips and stains the counter red.

“I should’ve noticed Riddle was this close to snapping,” he mutters. “If I’d stopped him sooner…”

Trey doesn't cry. But guilt clings to him like powdered sugar on a fresh cake. Yuu wasn’t his responsibility, but they were in his dorm's garden. Under his vice-leadership. And that’s not something he forgets easily.

He leaves a note at Ramshackle with a box of treats:

“For Grim. I know they liked sweet things. —Trey”

Dire Crowley

Crowley is the one who has to “make it official.”

He stands before the gathered first years, his usual flourish gone. There’s no fanfare, no dramatic cloak-swoosh. Just a stiff, solemn tone.

“It is with deepest regret that I must confirm… the Prefect of Ramshackle Dorm has passed, following the incident involving an overblot.”

He doesn’t look anyone in the eye.

When the students leave, he stays behind in the hall, staring at the cracked mirror that once brought Yuu here.

“They were never supposed to be involved in magic,” he mutters. “I was supposed to protect them…”

He writes a formal report. Then another one. Then a third. None of them feel right.

Later, Crowley visits Ramshackle and sets down a key with a tiny raven charm beside their bed.

“I promised you safety. I failed. May this place remember you better than I did.”

LEONA'S OVERBLOT

It’s live. NRC's Spelldrive match is being broadcast across Twisted Wonderland.

Leona’s magic erupts like a sandstorm hurricane—spikes of sand and flame. Yuu is running, dragging an injured Grim, trying to reach Jack.

Then comes the roar.

Then silence.

The sand settles. A figure lies limp in the wreckage.

There’s a gasp on the feed. The camera zooms in— —and the world watches as the magicless Prefect, the one who stood beside overblots and chaos, lies still on the battlefield.

Grim

Grim doesn’t even process what happens at first.

He sees the sandstorm. The explosion of magic. He hears Yuu scream—and then nothing. Just silence.

He claws at their body. “Get up! Hey! I said get UP!”

He tries to use his magic. Tries to warm them up with a fireball. Nothing works.

He sobs until his voice is hoarse. He doesn’t leave their side—not when the teachers show up, not when the sun sets, not even when Crowley tries to move him.

“You said we were gonna leave this place together, remember? You promised…”

After that, he never says their name again. But he whispers it in his sleep, tail curled around their favorite pillow.

Ace Trappola

Ace punches Leona.

No questions, no hesitation—he hauls off and decks him right across the jaw, shouting “You bastard! You KILLED them!”

It doesn’t matter that Leona’s still recovering from the overblot. It doesn’t matter that he gets dragged off. He’s shaking with rage.

Ace’s grief comes out as fire. Loud. Angry. Messy.

Later, he sneaks into Ramshackle alone. He rifles through Yuu’s drawers, looking for something—a hoodie, a note, an old snack wrapper. Anything that still smells like them.

He finds a photo they all took before the Spelldrive match.

He keeps it in his wallet.

Deuce Spade

Deuce kneels beside Yuu’s body and doesn’t move for a long time.

He holds their hand. It’s still warm. He begs the healers to try again. Begs the staff to do something.

“They can’t be gone… Not them. Not Yuu…”

He starts blaming himself. “If I’d been faster. If I’d trained harder. If I’d just been stronger—”

He throws himself into becoming stronger after that. Pushing past his limits. Studying harder. Training until he drops.

But he never stops wearing the little Ramshackle pin Yuu made for him, safety-pinned to the inside of his collar.

Cater Diamond

Cater completely drops the act.

No more filters. No cute captions. No jokes.

He vanishes from Magicam for a full month. When he comes back, it’s quiet. Just a black square and one line:

“Miss u, bestie.”

He tries to keep smiling around others, especially Grim, but it’s clearly forced. His voice cracks sometimes.

“I never even said goodbye… How could I not say goodbye?!”

Cater leaves a bracelet at the edge of the Savanaclaw field where they fell—green and silver beads, their initials on it.

He comes back every week to make sure it's still there.

Trey Clover

Trey becomes the one who takes care of everyone else.

He comforts Grim. Checks on Deuce. Calms Ace. Brings food even when no one eats.

He tries to be steady, reliable—but even he has his moments.

Sometimes, late at night in the kitchen, when he’s baking and the scent of vanilla fills the room, he sees Yuu laughing by the counter and has to sit down before he breaks.

He brings a box of strawberry tarts to Ramshackle and places it on their bed, whispering, “You always liked these… right?”

Riddle Rosehearts

Riddle is devastated.

He stares at their body with wide, horrified eyes. His throat closes. He stammers something—rules, overblot laws, consequences—but the words fall flat.

He visits their grave alone. He brings roses, red and white.

“I should have stopped Leona. I knew something was wrong. I should have said something. Done something…”

He reads old messages Yuu sent him. Keeps rereading them, like they'll change.

When Heartslabyul hosts a tea party in their memory, Riddle personally makes sure it’s perfect.

“They deserve nothing less.”

Jack Howl

Jack grits his teeth.

He says nothing at first. Just watches in silence as the healers pronounce Yuu gone.

But later, he trains. Harder than ever. His knuckles split. His legs ache.

“If I’d been there a second earlier… I could’ve shielded them.”

He doesn’t cry, but he starts carrying himself a little more respectfully. For Yuu.

At Ramshackle, he leaves a desert lily by their bed—a flower that survives in harshness. “You were tough. I’ll honor that.”

Dire Crowley

Crowley looks… older afterward.

He gives a dramatic speech at the memorial. Everyone assumes he’s playing it up again—until he chokes up mid-sentence.

“This school was supposed to keep them safe…”

He writes a letter to the Headmage’s council, arguing that overblots are no longer “rare accidents,” but institutional failures.

He also writes one to Yuu.

It sits in his drawer, never sent.

“You deserved better. From this world. From me. I only hope the next life is kinder.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona doesn’t say a word when he’s told Yuu didn’t survive.

He just stares. At the scorch mark in the dirt. At the faces of the others—Grim sobbing, Deuce shaking, Ace screaming at him. He says nothing.

He turns away.

No apology. No excuse. He doesn't even try to defend himself.

Later, alone in his dorm, he leans against the wall with a clenched jaw, grinding his molars. His overblot haze is gone, but the image of Yuu—burned into his memory—won’t leave.

“Tch... They were a nobody. Just some magicless brat...”

But he’s not saying it to anyone else. He’s trying to convince himself. Because deep down, he knows that’s not true. Yuu stood their ground. Faced him when even Savanaclaw students ran. And they died because of him.

The next day, Leona doesn’t come out of his room.

The week after that, he’s quieter. Less sharp-tongued. Still dangerous, still smug—but there’s a heaviness in his voice now.

He doesn’t go to the memorial. But he sends a small wrapped parcel to Ramshackle with Ruggie.

Inside: a faded Savanaclaw armband and a simple note.

They had guts. —L

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie wasn’t close to Yuu, but they helped him once.

Shared a snack. Laughed at his dumb jokes. Treated him like a person, not Leona’s errand boy.

So when he sees their body, something shifts.

“…They’re really gone?”

He doesn’t cry. He’s too used to loss for that. But his stomach churns as he watches Grim howl and Ace get dragged away from Leona.

Ruggie knew this was gonna happen eventually. He just didn’t think it’d be Yuu.

He feels the tension in the dorm, hears the whispers from other students, and suddenly everything feels too loud.

That night, he lights a candle in the Savanaclaw lounge. It’s small, cheap, something from the Night Market.

He stares at the flame and murmurs, “Rest easy, alright? Sorry we never got to hang out more…”

Then he turns and gets back to work, because someone has to clean up the mess.

But he steals food from the cafeteria a little more often now.

For Grim.

AZUL'S OVERBLOT

Grim

He can’t even scream this time.

He runs to their body, but the water’s still seeping away. He tries to drag them out. Shouts for help.

He sobs into their clothes, claws clenched around fabric, whispering over and over, “No no no—come on, come on—don’t do this, please—”

He tries breathing fire, again and again, like maybe the warmth will bring them back.

Azul’s contracts burn around them. Grim doesn’t care. He curls around their chest and doesn’t move for hours.

Ace Trappola

Ace laughs.

It’s a broken sound, too sharp to be real.

“No way. No way they’re— They can’t be— This is stupid. They survived Leona. They survived Riddle. They’re Yuu.”

He looks at Azul like he wants to kill him, but then just… stops. He walks over to Yuu’s body and sits down beside them, knees to his chest, silent.

Hours later, he mutters to no one, “I didn’t even get to say sorry… I called them annoying this morning…”

Deuce Spade

Deuce falls to his knees.

He shakes Azul by the collar, shouting “WHAT DID YOU DO?!” before Jack pulls him back.

Then he kneels by Yuu and clutches their hand like it’s an anchor. He doesn’t move for a long time, even when everyone else starts to leave.

He wears their Ramshackle pin on his blazer after that. Cleans it every morning.

When he does tests, exams, in a track race, he whispers under his breath, “Watch me. I’ll make you proud.”

Jack Howl

Jack stands frozen in place.

His tail bristles. His claws dig into his palms. But he doesn’t lash out. He doesn’t cry.

He walks over and picks up the tattered scarf Yuu always wore, brushes the ink off it gently.

“They were a good one,” he says quietly.

He trains harder after that. Says less. But anyone who enters the Savannaclaw training field will find a small stone marker in the far corner.

“To the one who stood tall without claws.”

Ruggie Bucchi

Ruggie curses.

“Damn it. Damn it all.”

He kicks one of the broken tables. Then another. And then he stops—because he sees Grim, curled and shaking, and his chest aches.

He drops to a squat beside him, puts a hand on Grim’s back.

“They were… They were somethin’ else, huh?”

He steals food from the Lounge that night. Loads of it. Drops it off at Ramshackle with no note.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but he swears to himself: No one else from their circle dies on his watch.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s the first to arrive after the overblot ends.

He sees the ink, the body, the shattered remains of the contracts—and doesn’t speak. Not at first.

“…You actually went and got them killed, huh?” he mutters to Azul.

Leona walks over to Yuu and crouches low. His tail flicks.

“Should’ve told you not to play hero again. Should’ve made you stay out of this.”

He leaves a desert lily by their side and walks away before anyone sees his hands shaking.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul is catatonic.

He collapses when the overblot fades. The moment he sees what he’s done—who he’s killed—his voice dies in his throat.

“No… No, no, no… I didn’t mean…”

He vomits ink.

He sobs behind his hands.

He screams at the sea for days afterward.

He locks himself in his office and doesn't come out. Not for weeks. He can’t even look at his own reflection.

Eventually, he stops using contracts.

He burns every single one.

Jade Leech

Jade is… quiet.

Too quiet.

He kneels beside the body and closes their eyes. Straightens their sleeves. Brushes the ink from their lashes.

Then he looks at Azul—torn, sobbing—and doesn’t speak.

He doesn’t smile after that. Not in the Lounge. Not in class.

When asked, he only says: “They were… sincere. And brave. It's a shame. A true shame.”

He visits Ramshackle every now and then, leaving wild mushrooms at the doorstep.

Floyd Leech

Floyd doesn’t take it well.

First, he laughs.

“Eh? Seriously? Shrimpy’s dead? Just like that?”

Then his smile vanishes. Completely.

“...No fun.”

He walks into the Lounge’s VIP room and trashes it. Rips through furniture. Breaks the glass. Shatters the chandelier.

No one stops him.

After that, he won’t talk about it. If someone mentions Yuu, he gets quiet.

He goes out swimming in the ocean for hours. Sometimes all night.

When he comes back, he’s always more tired.

Dire Crowley

Crowley stands at the edge of the scene, looking like a ghost.

This is the third time now. Third overblot. Third time Yuu has nearly died. Except this time…

He pulls his hat down, voice tight. “I failed them. Again.”

He doesn’t perform this time. No grand speeches. Just silence and shame.

He drafts a dozen letters to Yuu’s family—then throws them all out. What could he say? "Your child died in another world under my care?"

He declares a school-wide mourning period and cancels all contracts indefinitely.

But it’s not enough. Nothing is.

JAMIL'S OVERBLOT

They were too close. Always too close.

In trying to protect Kalim, in trying to talk Jamil down, they stepped into range—and one of the snake-like braids struck. Fast. Precise. Poisonous.

No one noticed the bite at first. Not even Yuu.

But as the overblot fades, and the sand settles, they collapse—pale, lips turning blue, their breathing labored until…

It stops.

And the music dies with them.

Grim

He’s the first to notice something’s wrong.

He shakes Yuu’s arm, pats their cheek. “Oi, this isn’t funny—come on, we’ve gotta scold Jamil, right?”

But their chest doesn’t rise.

Grim screams. His voice cracks.

“YUU?!”

He doesn’t leave their side for the rest of the night, paws clutching their arm, growling at anyone who tries to move them.

When Ace and Deuce return, he nearly attacks them just to stop them from seeing.

Jamil Viper

He sees the bite. He knows exactly what it means.

He knows.

He drops to his knees.

“...No… no no no…”

His voice shakes. His hands tremble. His overblot form may have faded, but its consequences linger like venom in his blood.

He killed them.

No tricks. No schemes. No brainwashing. Just murder.

He doesn’t run. He doesn’t speak. He just sits in the sand, staring at his hands, unable to move.

He’s silent for hours.

When they drag him away, he doesn’t resist.

Kalim Al-Asim

He doesn’t understand at first.

“Yuu? What are they doing? They’re just sleeping, right? Right, Jamil?!"

But Jamil won’t meet his eyes.

And when Grim doesn’t answer—when Grim starts sobbing—Kalim’s smile falls. Shatters.

“No… no, no, this isn’t…”

He grabs Yuu’s hand and holds it like he can warm it back to life.

“Please—wake up—we haven’t even gone swimming yet! You promised!”

He cries hard. For hours. He tries to take the blame, keeps saying:

“It should’ve been me. I was the one he hated…”

Azul Ashengrotto

When Azul sees the body, he goes eerily quiet.

He slams the lounge door shut, tells Jade and Floyd to cancel operations for a week. When they ask why, he just mutters:

“Yuu’s dead. Jamil’s overblot.”

That night, Azul goes down to the sea and throws in a silver pen—a token Yuu once gave him when he helped them with a contract.

He doesn’t talk about it afterward.

But he never lets a client leave with a dangerous deal again.

Jade Leech

Jade lowers his when he sees the body.

“…How unfortunate.”

He’s quiet for a long while. He plants a rare desert flower in a terrarium—a tribute. Waters it every morning.

When questioned, he only says, “They were brave. It is a shame bravery rarely guarantees survival.”

But his smiles are smaller now. More thoughtful. Especially around Jamil.

Floyd Leech

He gets quiet.

Too quiet.

He doesn’t laugh. Doesn’t grin. Just tosses a beach ball into the ocean and watches it float away.

When asked, he mutters, “Shrimpy was s’posed to come back. I was gonna show ‘em how to really swim…”

And then, with no warning, he grabs Jamil by the collar and slams him into a wall.

“You bit them, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t hit him. Just glares, then shoves him down and walks away.

He doesn’t show up to class for three days after that.

Crowley

He returns in high spirits, sunburned and humming—until he sees the school’s flag at half-mast.

“What happened—?”

Grim hits him with a fireball before he can finish his sentence.

When Crowley sees Yuu’s name etched into the memorial stone, he drops to his knees.

He doesn’t even try to justify himself.

He just whispers, “I left. Again. And they paid for it…”

And for once, Crowley vanishes from public view.

Not even the staff can find him for days.

Ace Trappola

He bursts through the gate, duffel in hand, bragging to Deuce—until Grim tackles him, claws shaking.

“They’re gone,” Grim wheezes, “They’re gone, Ace!”

Ace laughs. “Huh? Quit messin’ with me—what do you—”

Then he sees Deuce’s face pale. And the memorial stone. And the empty Ramshackle doorway.

“…No. No, no—this is a joke, right?!”

He punches the wall until his knuckles bleed.

Deuce Spade

He drops his bag the moment Grim tells them.

“No way… No—they were fine. They were fine when we left—”

He clutches his stomach and falls to his knees. “Why weren’t we here? Why didn’t we come back sooner?!”

He visits the grave every morning for a week. Leaves flowers. Doesn’t say much in class.

His grades improve. His magic sharpens.

He swears it won’t happen again.

Riddle Rosehearts

He stares at the nameplate on the stone.

“…They died protecting someone else?”

He places a red rose beneath the inscription.

“They never followed the rules… and still had the nerve to leave before I could thank them.”

His voice is brittle.

After that, he disciplines his dorm a little less harshly.

He gives Grim his leftover tarts in silence.

Trey Clover

He sighs deeply, brows furrowed.

“…I should’ve known something like this would happen.”

He helps Cater plan a quiet tribute in Heartslabyul. A tea party with Yuu’s favorite sweets. No rules. No scolding.

Just stories.

Trey keeps their seat open.

Cater Diamond

He cries in the hallway.

No selfies. No filters. No pretending.

Just raw, ugly crying.

“Why didn’t I get more pictures with them…?”

He organizes a social feed in their memory. Posts their art. Their dumb selfies. Their best moments.

It goes viral within NRC. Students from all dorms comment:

“They helped me.” “They stood up for me.” “I miss them…”

Leona Kingscholar

“…Damn snake.”

He growls low, tail twitching.

He doesn’t yell. Doesn’t threaten. Just walks out of the dorm and stares at the cliffs until sunset.

He was starting to respect them.

Now he never gets the chance.

Ruggie Bucchi

He’s pissed.

At Crowley. At Jamil. At himself.

He sneaks into the infirmary late at night and punches the wall once—just once.

Then he wipes his eyes and leaves, like nothing happened.

But he leaves offerings at the stone every week. Small things.

Bread. Buttons. A lucky toothpick.

Jack Howl

He stands before the memorial with flowers in hand and says nothing.

Not a word.

But he starts training harder.

When he duels, he whispers: “Hope you’re watching.”

VIL'S OVERBLOT

The air is thick with smoke and glamour. Vil's overblot form collapses, and the world finally breathes.

Everyone thinks it's over.

Until Yuu sways.

Until their lips tremble with blue.

Until they fall with no warning.

Grim reaches them first, and then all hell breaks loose.

Grim

He’s laughing at first. “We did it, right?! Right, Hench—?”

He sees the foam on their lips.

“No.”

He shakes them. “No—NO! Don’t you dare pull this crap—wake up! You said we were gonna get celebratory tuna!”

He shrieks when they stop breathing. He claws at his own face, trembling so hard he can barely speak.

When someone touches him, he bites them.

“DON’T—touch them—don’t take them away!!”

Ace Trappola

He rushes to Yuu’s side, shouting their name. Shaking them like that’ll undo it.

He looks to Deuce. Then to Grim. Then to Vil.

“WHO DID THIS?!”

He’s crying—actually crying—and it’s not cute. It’s ugly. Angry. Messy.

“I should’ve noticed—I should’ve—why didn’t I—?!”

He tries to do CPR. Tries to cast a healing spell. Anything.

None of it works.

Deuce Spade

He goes quiet. Stone-faced.

He tries to carry Yuu’s body like they’re still breathing, like maybe warmth and motion will bring them back.

His voice is hoarse: “I’ll take them to the infirmary. I can fix this. I can fix this.”

He doesn't stop walking until someone physically pulls him back.

When he finally lets go, he drops to his knees and sobs into his hands.

Jamil Viper

When he sees the foaming poison, the slow purple hue crawling over Yuu’s veins…

He knows.

“…Vil used poison,” he mutters, numb. “And they were too close.”

He staggers back, staring at his hands like he’s watching it happen all over again.

“Not again,” he whispers. “Not again.”

He turns and walks away. Doesn’t look back.

This time, he cries alone.

Kalim Al-Asim

“Yuu…?”

He kneels beside them. Touches their cheek.

“Yuu? Come on, wake up—it’s over, we won! You said you’d teach me how to bake that cake, remember?”

He keeps babbling. Keeps smiling. Even as tears start to fall.

Even when they don’t wake up.

“…They were always smiling,” he whispers. “Even when things were scary…”

Epel Felmier

He starts shaking.

He was right beside them. Right beside them.

And he didn’t notice.

“They were fine—they were still standing—they were smiling—”

He screams into his hands. Then punches the ground until his knuckles bleed.

Vil tries to stop him.

Epel shouts, “DON’T!”

And turns away, teeth bared in grief.

Rook Hunt

The first thing he says is quiet. Reverent.

“…They died beautifully.”

Everyone stares.

Then he kneels down and closes Yuu’s eyes gently.

“They were a soul full of light. To burn out in such a theatrical, bittersweet way… it’s almost poetic.”

His voice breaks.

He looks at Vil.

“Mon Roi. What have you done?”

Vil Schoenheit

He knew.

He knew what was in the poison. How fast it worked. How potent it was.

And still—still—he let it happen.

When Yuu collapses, his voice fails. He runs to them, brushes their hair back.

He presses his forehead to theirs.

“…You idiot,” he chokes. “Why didn’t you move? You should have stayed behind the curtain!”

He doesn’t say much after that.

But he cancels his return to the stage.

Forever.

Crowley

He returns to a somber, shattered NRC.

When he hears what happened, he doesn’t speak.

Doesn’t excuse himself.

He walks into Ramshackle dorm, sits in the dark, and whispers:

“I keep failing you.”

He shuts the dorm down for a week.

He leaves a golden brooch on Yuu’s old pillow.

Trey, Cater, Riddle, Leona, Ruggie, Jack

Trey makes a cake and leaves it at Ramshackle. Says nothing.

Cater posts one last selfie with Yuu and doesn’t log into Magicam again for a month.

Riddle reprimands Vil for days—then visits the grave in silence.

Leona grits his teeth, then throws a spell book across his room. Doesn’t talk about it.

Ruggie mutters, “Figures someone like him would mess it up,” then wipes his eyes.

Jack makes a point to place wildflowers near their grave every few days.

Jade whispers, “They died protecting others. Admirable… but costly.”

Floyd just says, “Shrimpy’s really gone, huh…” and doesn’t smile for a week.

Azul throws himself into managing the lounge, late at night he stares at a framed picture of him and Yuu and cries.

Hornton

He’s fixing the stage with his magic. Alone. Quiet. Restoring the ruins left behind after Vil’s rampage.

Then he sees it—Yuu’s name on the memorial plaque. A candle burning low.

He stares.

His magic falters.

“…No.”

His voice shakes.

“...No.”

He vanishes from the stage.

Later, students find the ruins of a blasted tree behind Ramshackle.

And Malleus is there. Silent. Still. Staring at Yuu’s favorite bench—the one they sat on during night talks.

He places a glowing crystal beside it. It hums softly. Mourning.

“No one else sat with me in the dark,” he whispers. “No one else called me ‘Hornton.’”

IDIA'S OVERBLOT

Grim

He's inconsolable.

Screaming. Thrashing. Clinging to Yuu's unmoving form. There's soot on his fur and tear tracks down his face.

“They were just—they were just joking about food! We were gonna go home, we were—they PROMISED!!”

He tries to breathe fire in grief, but it sputters out into smoke. He curls into their chest and won’t let go.

Ace Trappola

“No.”

He walks up. Stares. Backs away.

“No. No—no, this isn’t—that’s not funny, Yuu. Get up.”

He turns to Deuce. His voice is cracking.

“They’re gonna sit up. They’re just messing with us, right?”

But no one laughs.

He kneels down and covers his face with both hands.

Deuce Spade

His entire body locks up.

“I should’ve—gone in with them. I should’ve…”

His fists clench so tightly they bleed.

He kneels beside Grim and takes one of Yuu’s hands in his. Quiet.

“Thank you… for everything.”

Jack Howl

He has no words. Only a silent, thunderous grief.

He lowers his head respectfully. Closes Yuu’s eyes with trembling fingers.

He doesn't cry. But his voice is hoarse for days.

Later, he trains until he collapses. Trying to make sure no one else dies again.

Ruggie Bucchi

“…Sh*t.”

That’s all he says at first. He turns away.

Wipes his eyes before anyone sees.

But he leaves a meat pie at their grave later. Wrapped in a checkered cloth. No note. No message.

Just something Yuu said they always wanted to try.

Leona Kingscholar

He scowls. Says they were reckless. That it was bound to happen.

But the minute no one’s watching, he storms off into the desert garden and roars so loud it shakes the windows.

When he comes back, he’s dragging an ancient herb said to revive the dead.

It doesn’t work.

Trey Clover

He finds Grim later in Ramshackle.

And quietly makes enough food for two, even though only Grim eats.

No one sees him cry.

But he starts baking a certain kind of cake more often—one that only Yuu ever asked for.

Cater Diamond

He doesn’t post anything on Magicam for three months.

He tries to smile. He jokes. But his heart’s not in it.

He visits Ramshackle every week and leaves flowers—sunflowers, yellow and bright.

“You always made things feel warm, y’know?” he whispers.

Riddle Rosehearts

He keeps it together at first.

But when he’s alone? He breaks.

He slams his fists into the desk. Screams into the void.

“They didn’t have magic! They shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have had to go alone!”

He writes a law in Yuu’s honor: “No student shall face a magical threat without backup.”

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul’s hands shake when he sees Yuu’s body.

“They gave me a second chance,” he whispers.

“And I couldn’t even…”

He shuts down the Lounge for a week.

He orders every contract reviewed. Removes every dangerous clause Yuu once called out.

He leaves an ornate seashell at their grave. Etched with: “For the one who believed in me.”

Jade Leech

“…A tragedy.”

His tone is calm. But his eyes are not.

He takes off his gloves and places them over Yuu’s hands, folding them gently.

“I suppose I must find a new mushroom for mourning,” he murmurs.

He visits often. Leaves nothing but silence and prayers.

Floyd Leech

At first? Nothing.

Just blank staring.

Then: “Shrimpy’s really gone, huh?”

He doesn’t cry.

But he drags Idia by the collar and nearly kills him.

“You owe them. FIX IT.”

It takes four people to pull him off.

He doesn't smile after that. Not for a long time.

Idia Shroud

At first, he thinks it’s a glitch.

Then he sees them—unmoving, burned at the edges, body limp in Grim’s arms.

He doesn’t scream.

He just stares. A long time. And says:

“…I killed them.”

He doesn't resist when Floyd attacks. He wants to be punished.

Later, he shuts himself inside the lab. Ignores Ortho. Refuses food.

All he says, over and over, is:

“I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want this.”

Ortho Shroud

“No. No, no, no—please wake up! I can scan you—I can rebuild you, I can—”

His voice distorts.

“PLEASE DON’T LEAVE NII-SAN BEHIND!!”

When Yuu doesn’t stir, Ortho’s eyes dim.

He flies off.

And no one sees him for three days.

Crowley

He was there. Watching from the surface. Powerless to go down with them.

When Yuu doesn’t return, he collapses to his knees.

He says nothing.

But every night after, the gate to the Underworld glows dimly. Lit by a single enchanted candle.

Burning for the student who dared cross the River Styx.

MALLEUS'S OVERBLOT (may be inaccurate)

Grim

He holds your hand as you fade, clawing at the thorns like they'll move.

“Don’t go. You—you always saved everyone!! I was supposed to protect you—!!”

He’s wailing.

When it’s over, he curls into your chest and doesn’t speak for two days.

Ace Trappola

He’s the first to scream.

“WHAT’S THE POINT OF WAKING UP IF THEY’RE DEAD!?”

He runs at the thorns. Punches them until his fists bleed. Until Deuce pulls him back.

He curses Malleus. Then curses himself.

Then, eventually, just sits on the floor. Staring.

Deuce Spade

He kneels beside your body.

His voice cracks as he says:

“I became a better person because of you…”

Then, in a whisper:

“…I don’t know how to be good without you.”

Cater Diamond

“No… not them… anyone but them…”

He sobs. No filters. No jokes. No posing.

His Magicam goes dark again. He locks himself in his room and cries into their old photos.

Trey Clover

He can’t breathe when he sees you.

He covers his face. Kneels.

“I should’ve done more. Been there. Helped you—something.”

He leaves a tiny tart beside your grave, baked with your favorite flavor.

Riddle Rosehearts

His voice is a whisper. Unsteady.

“They were the only one who understood me... even after everything I did...”

He places a rose—red and thornless—on your chest.

And kneels, head bowed.

Leona Kingscholar

He stares down at you. Quiet.

“I told you not to play hero,” he murmurs.

He sounds tired. Angry. Hollow.

But he watches over your grave when no one else will.

Silent. Guarding. For hours at a time.

Ruggie Bucchi

"...Tch."

He turns his back. Walks away.

But hours later, someone finds a crumpled note by your bed.

"Thanks for feeding me."

Jack Howl

He stands still for a long time.

Then salutes you with quiet reverence.

“You had more heart than anyone I’ve ever met.”

He trains harder than ever after that. To live by your example.

Azul Ashengrotto

He drops to his knees.

“This wasn’t part of the deal…”

His voice breaks.

“I would've traded everything. Just—just to keep them safe…”

He cancels all contracts for a week. Shuts down the Lounge. Cries behind locked doors.

Jade Leech

He gently closes your eyes.

And, for once, doesn’t smile.

“Even rare orchids wither in the frost,” he says.

And places a white lily beside you.

Floyd Leech

“…Shrimpy…”

He pokes your cheek.

No response.

Then he howls. He tears up a hallway. Slams a wall with a fist that cracks stone.

He doesn’t laugh again for a month.

Kalim Al-Asim

“No no no—you were supposed to live!! You saved me!! Why didn’t I save you!?”

He sobs into Jamil’s shoulder.

He lights candles in your memory every night.

Jamil Viper

He closes his eyes.

He doesn't speak. Just mutters a single word:

“Unfair.”

But later, he visits your resting place, presses a charm into the soil.

“I owed you more than I gave.”

Vil Schoenheit

He holds you like glass. Like something sacred.

“Your final act was... selfless. Poetic. Tragic.”

He speaks at your memorial.

And always leaves a pristine white rose.

Epel Felmier

His shoulders shake.

He refuses to speak at the ceremony. But he carves a tiny wooden charm for you.

He carries it in his pocket. Always.

Rook Hunt

Tears fall freely.

“Ah, mon trésor… such beauty, such sacrifice…”

He writes a ballad in your honor. He performs it in the forest, alone.

Idia Shroud

He stares at you with wide eyes. Whispering to himself.

“No. No. Not again. Not another one. Not like Ortho—!”

He curls into himself.

And when he reboots Ortho later, he hugs him like he’ll disappear too.

Ortho Shroud

He powers down for a full day.

And when he reactivates, he asks:

“Why didn’t I detect the danger? Why couldn’t I save them?”

He makes a digital backup of your voice. It plays when he’s alone.

Lilia Vanrouge

He lowers his head and whispers in old fae tongue.

“They were brave.”

He sings an ancient lullaby only fae children know.

And your grave is tended by wild roses from then on.

Silver

He brushes your hair back.

“I thought we’d all wake up…”

He places a dream charm on your chest.

“So you’d never be afraid. Not even now.”

Sebek Zigvolt

He yells.

First at Malleus. Then at the world. Then at himself.

“They protected you, my lord! And now they’re GONE!”

His voice breaks.

He kneels beside your grave.

“They were… a knight.”

Malleus Draconia

When he sees you fall, his world ends.

The thorns fade. The dreams collapse.

You lay still in his arms.

His voice is a whisper. A plead.

“No. No no no. This isn't what I wanted…”

He doesn’t overblot again.

He just… disappears.

Some say he wandered into the thorns. Others say he turned into mist.

But on quiet nights, a low voice murmurs:

“I wanted eternity with you.”

Crowley

For once… he takes responsibility.

He wears all black.

He lays a feathered mask at your grave.

And whispers:

“You were the one good thing I never deserved.”

under a trance!

✦ PAIRING: mammon x reader ✦ SUMMARY: mammon goes under anesthesia. shenanigans ensues. ✦ WC: 0.7K

| MASTERLIST

══════════════════

“Yer’ so cute.”

The sight in front of you could only be described as endearing. It was cute, unbearably so. The ditzy look on Mammon’s face and his dopey smile makes you want to pinch his cheek, but you refrain from doing so to maintain some form of dignity.

“Thanks?” You answer, shifting his current position to sit upright, prompting him against the wall as he flops around like a boneless pack of goo. You stifled a laugh. Lucifer had assigned you to pick up Mammon from the dentist, which you had initially assumed was for a regular dental checkup. Though looking at the state of the demon in front of you, he definitely had undergone some kind of procedure. 

“Who are you?” Mammon threw his arms over you as he leaned into your chest to take in a deep inhale, “You smell so good.” He mumbles with his cheeks squashed against you. His half-lidded eyes were hazy and you couldn’t stop yourself from giving him a quick pat on the head.

“I’m your human.” You said simply. His face scrunches up into an adorable frown as he pulls back to pout at you. The sound of the door opening sends Mammon scuttling back with a groan, knocking his head against the wall. Thankfully, demons are hardier than they look, and after a quick checkover, you twisted to see who had entered the room.

“Ah, you’re here to pick Mammon up right?” A person? demon clad in all white, presumbly the dentist, questions you. He peers past you to look at the patient, who is hissing at him and taking a defensive stance. It was pretty amusing to see a full-grown man curl in on himself to exhibit behaviour similar to the cats that Satan feeds.

You nod.

“Great. He just took out his wisdom teeth and is now under anesthesia. The effects should wear off pretty quickly.” The dentist starts, tapping on his clipboard before handing you a stack of instructions. He then continues to overwhelm you with a long list of aftercare steps that you have already forgotten. Noticing you were distracted, Mammon had taken his chance to cling onto you again, nudging your hand to find its place on the top of his head. You take it as a cue to start petting him.

It was kinda sweet how little inhibitions the Avatar of Greed had when he was medicated. It makes your stomach do a flip whenever he directs you a dorky grin. It almost makes you wish that he could be more forthcoming but his brand of tsundere was what appealed to you to fall head over heels in the first place.

Somehow, the admission that demons had wisdom teeth came to you as a surprise and the thought of it was pretty funny. Briefly, you wonder if the other brothers had already gone through this process.

From your position on the bed beside Mammon, you idly continue your action of stroking his head while he mumbles gibberish into your chest. And you’re pretty sure he’s also slobbering on you if the wet patches on the front of your shirt were any indication. (And of course, you jumped at the chance to take multiple photos and videos and had already backed it up.)

“Mammon.” You tried to admonish him. He lifts his head dazedly at the sound of your voice, and you can’t help but change your tone to coo at him. It was so adorable to watch him preen under your attention. It was a rare sight to see him like this and you were going to exploit every opportunity you could. 

You kiss the top of his head.

“No… I have my treasure…” His voice had shifted to a sleepier tone even as his arms tightened around you. But seriously, he has you in his arms and he’s still thinking about Goldie? You were slightly offended at the thought.

“Ya smell like them… My treasure. Treasure!” Mammon roared, suddenly biting the corner of your shoulder hard. A flash of pain jolted through you at his unexpected movement.

“What the-- Ouch!” You quickly swatted him with the back of his hand, glancing down at your shoulder to see the damage sustained. A clear impression of the bite mark was imprinted right on the edge, though thankfully, it wasn’t as deep as it had felt.

You pull back to look at him disapprovingly.

“Treasure!” He slurs happily with a dumb look. This time, you kind of wanted to punch him.

══════════════════

a/n ▸ dorky mammon has my heart. also i know I'm terribly late for his birthday whoops

---

"Prefect, have you seen Rook anywhere?"

Epel looked distraught. He had spent the last three hours searching for his upperclassman, only to come up empty handed. He was now searching the courtyard again to no avail and was hoping you could give him a hand.

"Oh, yeah. He's been following me around all day," you answered.

"What?" Epel looked doubtful. His eyes scanned the empty paved path behind you. "How do you know?"

"Watch this."

You raised your hands above your head, forming a nice ring shape. No sooner did you lock your fingers together in the air than an arrow whizzed between your arms. It struck the ground right in front of Epel and chipped off part of the sidewalk.

Epel let out a swear and stepped back. "Wha' in tarnation was that!?"

You let your arms fall back down. "I think it's some kind of game. Rook hasn't actually spoken to me since he started doing it, but it's kinda fun. We've been practicing."

---

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.

---

The Prefect Was Here

Synopsis: The VDC boys notice the ways in which The Prefect has left their mark.

Something Ace notices during his time staying in Ramshackle is the various out of place chairs and boxes in different rooms of the dorm. He first realized they were there because he would trip over them or stub his toe on their corners. He'd move the objects out of the way to prevent himself from injuring himself on them again, but the next day they'd be back in their spots. This little cycle of him stumbling over the objects, moving them, and then stumbling over them again the next day repeated for a while until one late evening when the pieces clicked. Ace was leaving his room to get a glass of water from the kitchen when he looked over the railing of the stairs to see you stood atop one of the particularly annoying chairs placed in the lounge. A chair he trips over almost every morning in his half-awake state placed right next to the fireplace. Watching you organize various photo albums on a shelf above the mantle, he finally understood. He stopped moving the objects that no longer seemed out of place after that. They were right where they belonged: next to tall shelves, high up windows, and the occasional rickety door you had to open by shimmying it open from the top.

You often lent Deuce your notes to copy for those class periods he just couldn't keep his eyes open: exhausted from a long night of studying. At first he didn't notice anything, too busy frantically taking notes. It wasn't until he was staying in Ramshackle and he no longer had to worry about getting your notebook to you before day's end when you'd head off to your dorm and he to his that he saw it. As he was studying your notes he saw a little doodle on the edge of the page. The doodle was of Grim stirring a cauldron while standing on a stool, his goggles falling off his head. As he continued through your notes he saw ones of Epel carving an apple, Rook shooting a bow, and Vil looking studying rehearsal footage. Flipping back through the book and starting from the beginning he noticed the doodles seemed to be telling the story of your time at NRC. Early in the book, before there were notes on classes, there were doodles of the dark mirror, Crowley, and Grim. About the time you were officially enrolled there were drawings of the great 7, Ace with a smug look on his face, and even Deuce summoning a cauldron. He's asking to borrow your notes again? You could have sworn he was awake all class period (he just wants to see any new doodles).

Kalim noticed the walls, or more specifically: what was on them. It wasn't the boarded-up holes that drew his attention, nor was it the dust that you never could seem to get rid of completely. What got Kalim's attention were the drawings. In the kitchen, in your room, and on various doors there were drawings taped to the wood. Some were colorful while other were monochrome. Big, small, detailed, simple; he loved all of them! In your room you had an entire wall covered in pieces of your art, many of said pieces being of your friends and your various adventures. Your door was basically an extension of that wall just with a prominent sign in the middle reading 'Prefect and Grim.' Grim's name seemed to be written in his own handwriting (pawwriting?) and at the bottom of the sign laid a pawprint and a handprint. The other doors that had signs were rooms like the bathroom, laundry room, and the rooms each of the boys stayed in. The first few signs were put there by yourself to help the guys more easily navigate the sometimes-confusing building while the ones on each of their doors was to make them feel like they too belonged there. The kitchen had various drawings or little doodles your friends made for you. No matter how simple or detailed the drawing, you had every single thing anyone had drawn for your here displayed on the wall. All but Grim's art. He had his own pedestal (the fridge) for that. Kalim made sure to make his fair share of contributions to your display wall.

Jamil was in charge of the kitchen during the VDC and found some things rather unusual from the moment he stepped foot in there. Nearly all of your upper shelves were completely empty and when he pulled out a drawer he assumed would be a utensil drawer all he found was towels. That would be fine on its own, but none of the drawers had utensils. The upper cabinets that did have things in them held cleaning supplies, items that are commonly agreed to go below the sink. Just when he thought he was going to have to go back to Scarabia to get any kitchenware, he checked the lower cabinets. That's where he found pots, pans, cups, plates, and any other kitchen item you'd need all organized nicely as if they weren't in the most bizarre of places. Just as he was about to resign to silently judging you for your dishware placement, Grim came up beside him and opened one of the lower cabinets to grab a cup before scampering over to a step ladder placed next to the counter so he could reach the faucet and fill his cup with water. After seeing that he supposed your placement of things made sense. And after much time cooking in your kitchen as well as having to bend down to grab items he also realized that you must be even kinder than he originally thought (or just plain stupid, but he's keeping that thought to himself).

Vil is a man of beauty. He believes in not only you as a person looking your best at all times but also making sure your surrounding look their best. He understood most of Ramshackle's 'quirks' were unfixable as things were, and you did seem to keep the place remarkably clean all things considered, but there was something that caught his scrutinous eye. Clothes hung up to dry in the laundry room and bathroom (it was too cold to dry them outside) splattered in paint and a door that had matching patterns. At one point he grew curious as to what could possibly possess a person to leave a door in such a state and decided to open it. He almost fainted when he saw inside. The walls, ceiling, floor, and any furniture unlucky enough to be in the room was covered in layers of paint. The only thing that seemed to be kept clean was the window with a view of the forest beside the dorm. He left that day deciding that how you kept that room didn't affect him. As long as your mess didn't encroach into his space he would leave you to your mayhem. However, something odd began to happen. On a day Vil felt especially stressed, he went to do his laundry. When he closed the washer door and turned it on he looked up to see a row of paint splattered clothes hung up to dry, and before he knew it he was opening the door to what he assumed to be your art studio. He closed the door gently behind him and simply stood there in the room as the evening sun cast warm rays of light in through the window. It was as he stood there that he realized just how comforting the room's atmosphere was. It was hectic with all the paint everywhere and yet calming and homely at the same time. Now whenever he got too stressed during the VDC he went to that room to simply take a moment to breathe and forget about the stresses of being perfect. To look around at the remnants of pieces you put your heart and soul in splattered across the walls: telling a story only you know but that anyone who takes the time to observe can feel. Now, he may even see your paint splattered clothes and face to be rather endearing (not that he'll admit it).

Ever the hunter of Beauty, Rook notices a lot of ways in which you leave your mark on this world. The stickers on the covers of your notebooks, the patched sewn a bit sloppily onto your clothes, and even the spots on your front doorstep that have been ever so slightly worn down from scraping off mud and/or snow every time you come inside are all glorious examples of how you make the world more beautiful by being here. However, he does have a favorite. Out of every way you show that you've been here in this world, that you existed, his favorite by far is yours and Grim's height charts lightly scratched into the wall in a corner of the kitchen in a nook between the fridge and the wall. You wouldn't see it unless you really looked, but as we all know, he looks. Seemingly etched into the wall with a fork, butterknife, or something of the sort as not to be erased or easily covered up by paint are two separate sets of dashes. One is low to the floor while the other is about where the top of your head would be were you to stand with your back to the wall. Each chart has initials below the lowest mark and each dash has a date next to it. However, what really gets Rook's heart soaring is the initials and how after the letter of each of your first names there is an R. Now, Rook knows Grim doesn't have a last name and that you haven't uttered a word about what yours is (whether it be because you forgot or just simply don't want to tell people). Overwhelmed with curiosity he hunts down the ghosts to ask them the meaning of the R to which they tell him it stands for Ramshackle. You and Grim saw each other as family and so you decided to unofficially create a last name to share. When you were unable to agree on a good one you suggested Ramshackle so as to always remember your roots in this world. Rook won't encroach on the memory by asking to put a height chart of his own next to the two of yours, but you do notice that suddenly any official paperwork you or Grim gets has 'Ramshackle' after your first names.

What Epel notices are the big tape Xs in various places within the dorm. On the stairs, on the a spot in the hallway on the 2nd floor, there're even parts of the banister wrapped in blue tape. At some point he gets curious and prods at the banister only for it to sway and nearly fall off. This catches his attention so he goes through the dorm looking for places with tape on them to see if his hypothesis was correct, and, wouldn't ya know it, it was. All the places with tape are areas that could be considered hazardous for one reason or another. At first he wonders if you were just really dumb and put tape there to try and fix it, but when he sees you avoiding the areas too he decided that's not it. Then the idea comes up that perhaps they're there for an inspector that's going to come to fix up ramshackle, but it becomes apparent that's not the case when you come back one evening: exhausted from trying to convince Crowley to do something about the water damage in the attic only to be shut down. It isn't until he sees you yank Kalim back by the collar of his shirt as he was about to step on one of the Xs that he realizes you put them there to keep people safe. Epel tried pulling up a piece of tape at one pint in his inspection to get a better idea of what was underneath it and for the life of him he couldn't get it unstuck. At least he know for sure that it will stay there for generations to come acting as a kind reminder to anyone else who ventures into the dorm to avoid those areas and keep themselves safe.

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