── (def.) a persistent, disturbing, and often unreasonable preoccupation with a specific idea, feeling, or person that dominates an individual's thoughts.
꒰ㅤׂㅤ♡ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𝟢𝟣 #KENZI / ALLUR ꒪. 𝅄 ⋂⋂
⌢⌢ ! ꒰ masterlist ︵ tiktok. ꒱ ͏❛＿ฺ＿
＿ּ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ׄ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏▍. She /Her ︵
˚˖𓍢ִ໋ You're welcome to chat as friends or in need of someone to yap! I write veeeeryyy slowly so be warned and don't rush me please!
I originally wrote on tiktok but i found it inconvenient so i moved here, except im a lazy ass so im too tired to transfer my hcs here lmao, please be patient with me
My headers / dividers / pfp's are from pinterest and created by me.
᯽ a cup of warmth : after a long, exhausting day in the port mafia, chuuya comes home to warmth, care, and quiet love that makes him feel like he finally belongs somewhere safe
᯽ late night walk : a quiet late-night walk with chuuya turns into a tender moment of closeness, where the world fades away and all that exists is the warmth of being together
᯽ the storm & the sunshine : in the port mafia’s dangerous world, chuuya’s stormy intensity is constantly softened by your bright, chaotic warmth, together you become an unexpected balance of destruction and comfort that even the mafia can’t ignore
᯽ bookstore escape : a quiet bookstore date turns into a tender moment of connection as chuuya and you share teasing, warmth, and a promise of choosing each other’s story beyond the pages
᯽ snakebites & sunbeams : a cozy afternoon with chuuya, a kitten, and affectionate chaos turns into an unexpectedly sweet (and very embarrassing) family moment caught by overenthusiastic parents
᯽ the wine & the waltz : chuuya comes home to find you dancing alone in your shared warm little house, and what starts as a quiet, wine-lit moment turns into a slow, tender waltz that feels like choosing each other all over again
᯽ rainy day : chuuya comes home on a rainy day and immediately pulls you into a quiet, protective kind of closeness
᯽ surprise gift : chuuya surprises you with a small gift you once mentioned in passing, and the moment turns into quiet affection, warm closeness, and soft domestic intimacy at home
☁︎/᯽ five missed sunsets : chuuya returns after days away and you finally get your reunion, turning distance and worry into quiet closeness, soft apologies, and the feeling of making up for lost time together
᯽ in the privacy of arms : chuuya keeps your relationship strictly professional in public, but the second you’re alone, the walls drop and you cling to him like he’s the only safe place you have.
᯽ from sidekick to something more : chuuya slowly realizes his best friend has become something more, and what starts as quiet familiarity turns into an unspoken confession that finally breaks into a kiss in the rain
᯽ cooking together : chuuya and you cook together in a messy kitchen filled with teasing, stolen tastes, and soft kisses that turn an ordinary meal into something warm and intimate
᯽ hat thief : you steal chuuya’s hat as a joke, but it turns into a dangerously flirty standoff where he corners you and makes you realize the consequences of messing with him
᯽ fair night : chuuya takes you through a nighttime fair filled with art, lights, and quiet moments, where small gestures like buying your favorite painting and fastening a bracelet become the real meaning of the night
᯽ coffee shop : chuuya becomes a regular at your café for coffee, but keeps coming back for you, until shared drinks, quiet conversations, and rainy-night walks slowly turn into him asking you out properly
᯽ rainy day confession : chuuya confesses his feelings to you under shared shelter in the rain, and what starts as a stormy accident turns into a quiet, intimate promise that neither of you wants to let go of
᯽ new hire, new heart : new secretary at the port mafia gets assigned to chuuya and slowly realizes that behind his intimidating reputation, he’s attentive, surprisingly gentle, and far harder to stop thinking about than she expected
᯽ shades of love : chuuya and you gently comfort each other when you notice your baby developing vitiligo, turning fear into reassurance as you both promise your daughter a home filled with unconditional love and acceptance
☁︎ lines we cross : you and chuuya clash during a port mafia meeting when professional disagreements spiral into something more personal, forcing both of you to confront the complicated relationship you’ve been avoiding naming for too long
᯽ a little too protective : you get intensely jealous when a new recruit flirts with chuuya, but instead of teasing you for it, he reassures you in his blunt, honest way and makes it very clear where his attention actually belongs
᯽ the pinkest daughter : chuuya is overwhelmed by his daughter’s extremely pink world, but despite his dramatic complaining, he ends up fully participating in her tea party and quietly melting into their family chaos and love
☁︎ ink & shadows : you and chuuya work together as newspaper reporters investigating a string of suspicious “accidents,” unaware that he’s secretly involved in the darker undercurrent of the city. as trust deepens between you, so does the unspoken weight of what he isn’t telling you.
☁︎ storms & anchors : chuuya comforts you during an anxiety spiral, grounding you with reassurance, patience, and steady love
᯽ how do you know every line? : you quote the grinch word-for-word while watching it with chuuya, who goes from confused to amused as he realizes how perfectly you know every line
᯽ just one more drink : you and chuuya share a quiet, late-night drinking moment during christmas, where soft conversation, subtle affection, and lingering touches turn an ordinary night into something intimate and meaningful
᯽ the first to know : you find out you’re pregnant and go to mori for advice before telling chuuya, who reacts with shock, overwhelming tenderness, and immediate protectiveness when he finds out
2026: ↓
᯽ hallway crush : chuuya secretly looks forward to seeing you in the hallway every morning, until he finds a drawing of himself in your notebook. a shy confession, accidental discovery, and mutual crush lead to an awkward but sweet first “date” moment
᯽ red scarf, little trainee : chuuya trains you as a reluctant but deeply protective mentor, constantly bickering with you while secretly watching over your safety and progress like an older brother figure.
᯽ don't pick her up : you and chuuya navigate the overwhelming softness and exhaustion of early parenthood, with him being intensely protective of you after surgery while still showing a deeply gentle, steady love as you both care for your newborn daughter
᯽ ridding with you : you fall asleep against chuuya during a late-night motorcycle ride, trusting him completely as he takes care of you
᯽ right there : chuuya accidentally discovers that you melt instantly under gentle head pats, and what starts as a casual touch becomes a quiet, grounding habit between you two. whenever you’re overwhelmed or tired, he instinctively pulls you closer, softly running his hand through your hair while you relax into him completely.
᯽ you're on of us : you fall asleep waiting for chuuya after a mission, and he finds you exhausted and still waiting for him. despite his usual sharpness, he gently takes care of you, letting you lean on him and grounding you in the quiet reassurance that you’re part of his found family, and you don’t have to face anything alone.
᯽ future problems, literally : you and chuuya get into a petty argument that is abruptly interrupted when two kids from the future appear through a portal and immediately claim you as their parents
᯽ carrying everything : you’re heavily pregnant and overwhelmed during a simple grocery trip, struggling with exhaustion and feeling like you’re not keeping up. chuuya immediately takes over without hesitation, caring for both you and the twins while gently reminding you that you don’t have to carry everything alone
᯽ the taste of care : you struggle with long-term anxiety around food, and Chuuya gently helps you rebuild a sense of safety around eating through patience, care, and quiet encouragement. What starts as a simple meal becomes a deeply grounding moment of healing, where you finally begin to associate nourishment with comfort instead of fear.
᯽ our daughter, our family : you and chuuya slowly build a relationship based on trust, care, and learning how to rely on each other through hard moments, with a bit of emotional struggle and comfort along the way
☁︎ i couldn't sleep without you : you get worried when chuuya doesn’t come home and go looking for him in dangerous territory. he reacts with anger at first, but it quickly turns into fear and overwhelming care as he realizes you came because you love him and couldn’t sleep without knowing he was safe
᯽ just us tonight : chuuya carefully plans your birthday, realizing you don’t want anything fancy, just time with him. he spends the day giving you his full attention, a quiet date by the city and harbor lights, and thoughtful gifts based on everything he’s noticed about you
᯽ boyfriend!chuuya
᯽ past curfew : you sneak out past curfew to meet chuuya, and what starts as a quiet, slightly reckless late-night meeting turns into your first real “date” with him
᯽ sick days : you get sick and chuuya immediately takes over, staying calm while taking care of everything you need without leaving your side. he makes sure you rest, takes care of your medicine, and quietly watches over you until you recover
᯽ cuteness aggression : you get overwhelmed by how cute chuuya is and end up showering him with affectionate chaos while he insists he’s intimidating and not cute at all. despite his complaining, he never really stops you and gradually relaxes into your attention
᯽ your biggest fan : you’re completely obsessed with chuuya’s music and proudly his biggest fan, constantly listening to his songs, knowing every lyric, and pointing out your favorite parts while he sits there embarrassed but secretly pleased.
᯽ camera rolling, heart breaking : during a school film project, chuuya keeps calling “cut” every time your classmate gets too close, until his obvious jealousy turns into a confession
☁︎/᯽ you had it when you needed it : after losing something deeply meaningful, you spiral into grief, only for chuuya to ground you in the blunt, fiercely tender way only he can
᯽ who loves who more? : you and chuuya get stuck in a never-ending argument over who loves the other more, turning simple teasing into an affectionate competition filled with dramatic claims, petty rules, and laughter, until it becomes obvious that neither of you is actually trying to win
𝐕𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 ─ 𖧷
2025: ↓
reader who passes out/nosebleeds
love bites
reader is a popular actress
reader getting mad for the first time
reader who works for the pm & is a engineer
gf w long hair
the price of jealousy
bra of honor
under the rain
reader who is clumsy
reader who is self-conscious
2026: ↓
bsd men & reader taking care of each other
when they get into a bad argument & find you crying alone
Chuuya Nakahara x gn!reader. not proofread. established relationship. fluff. General headcannons. Slight comfort. Out of character!Chuuya. Author doesn't know what she's doing. How tf do i tag. just fluff bc im miserable js reading angst these past few weeks💔
He knew you were an assassin from the start—you never tried to hide it, and he never asked you to change. To him, what matters isn’t what you do for a living, but who you are.
He’s down absolutely terribly bad for you, like everyone in the Port Mafia can see it except you, even if you’re the one he’s dating. He acts indifferent, but his eyes light up the second you walk into a room.
He teases you nonstop, calling you things like “brat” or “troublemaker” but it’s all in a soft—warm way.
Yes he'd also let you tease him but if anyone else does the same thing to him, he’d blow up, but from you? He just smirks and plays along.
He gets so flustered when you do something sweet, like bringing him food, patching up a small cut, or even just smiling at him. Though he's eternally grateful and in return, he'd go out of his way to repay you (just not in the kitchen please)
You two are the most feared duo in the Port Mafia—people say “if you see one, the other is never far behind.” Combined with his Gravity manipulation and your assassin skills, you’re almost unbeatable.
He’s strict when it comes to missions. He’ll check every detail, make sure you’re prepared, and scold you if you take unnecessary risks. “I don’t care how good you are—being reckless is stupid. I won’t have you getting hurt over something that could’ve been avoided.”
But if you do get hurt? He loses his mind. He’ll stop at nothing to get revenge on whoever did it, and he’ll take care of every single wound himself—no letting doctors touch you unless he absolutely has to. He’ll bandage you up so gently it’s almost unrecognizable compared to his usual rough mannerisms.
He trusts you completely with his back. In battle, he knows you’ll have his side, and you know he’ll do the same for you. There’s no one he’d rather fight beside.
He acts like he doesn’t need anyone, but he’ll always be waiting for you after missions, even if he says he was just “passing by.” He’ll hand you a drink or a snack without saying a word, and act like it’s just because he doesn’t want it anymore.
He hates when you put yourself in danger, but he also admires your strength and skill. He’ll brag about you to anyone who’ll listen, “Yeah, they’re good. Better than most people I know. Just don’t go thinking you can beat them."
He gets jealous easily. If someone flirts with you or tries to get too close, he’ll appear out of nowhere, wrap an arm around your waist, and stare them down until they leave. “They’re taken. Move it.” And he’ll hold onto you a little tighter after that.
Acts of service is his loudest love language. Assisting you in every way possible, get anything you ask, help you on missions even if he knows you can do it yourself, in short—he's a gentleman, he'll never let you lift a finger on his watch.
Gets you home on his motorbike, making random conversations aside from both of your jobs to get rid of some stress.
Remembers every little detail about you—your favorite food, what makes you angry, things you’re scared of, and using that knowledge to take care of you without you asking.
He’ll get annoyed if you’re too quiet or distant, but he’ll never force you to talk about things you don’t want to. He’ll just sit with you, say “I’m here if you need me,” and leave it at that. He knows how dark your line of work is, but he never judges you for it.
— Thinking about.... Ranpo Edogawa x reader who bakes for him.
Established relationship (wanted to make this platonic too but since i rarely see ranpo fics i listened to my inner voices🥹✌️)
He claims you’re his personal official pastry chef—and he says it with full seriousness, like it’s an actual job title from the Agency. He’ll tell everyone proudly that your baking is far better than any shop bought treat, and that no one else in the whole world could ever make sweets as perfect as yours. He’ll even say it’s a fact proven by his ultra deduction, so it must be true.
He can tell exactly what you put in each treat but pretends he can’t just to hear you explain it and to see the happy look on your face when you tell him about your process. He already knows every ingredient, the exact baking time, where you bought the ingredients from and even the little adjustments you made to make it suit his taste better, but he’ll act all curious and impressed just to make you feel good.
Sweets from you are his absolute priority. He’ll drop almost anything because he brought your sweets with him for emergency snacking. If he’s in the middle of solving a case, he’ll pause, dig through the container, take a bite, then say it gives him “extra genius power,” and then solve the rest of the case even faster than before. He swears your baking is the secret behind all his successes(Uh other than his amazing ability ofc)
He’s very particular about how he eats your treats, but only because he treasures them—he’ll take small bites first to savor the flavor, then eat a little faster once he’s fully enjoying it. He never wastes a single crumb, and if there’s any left, he’ll guard it like it’s the most valuable treasure in the world, refusing to share it with anyone else.
He asks you to make specific things, but always with cute little reasons. He’ll say “make me apple pie because it matches my brilliant mind,” or “bake those cream puffs because they’re as sweet and wonderful as you are.” Sometimes he’ll even come up with weird, creative requests just to see if you can do it, and he’ll be over the moon when you pull it off perfectly.
He gets pouty and clingy if he doesn’t get your sweets for a while, if you’re busy and haven’t baked in a few days, he’ll show up at your place unannounced, give you big puppy eyes, and say he’s “running low on brain energy” and needs your baking immediately to keep functioning. He’ll stick by your side the whole time you’re baking, watching you closely and talking nonstop about how amazing you are or ranting about random stuff.
You definitely already remember every preference hes mentioned to you before, and he notices instantly when you adjust something to fit it. If he once said he loves extra filling, he’ll light up the moment he takes a bite and realizes you remembered. He’ll pull you close, give you a quick, happy kiss, and say you really are the only person who truly understands him.
He bakes for you once in a blue moon… and well there's a reason why it's only once in a blue moon—he tries because he wants to return your kindness, but he has absolutely no idea what he’s doing. He’ll mix things randomly, mix the dough too roughly, and end up with something that looks weird and tastes strange, but he’ll hand it to you with a proud grin and say it’s made with “all his genius and love.” You’ll eat it anyway, and he’ll be so happy you liked it that he might try again.
gotta be honest, im too lazy to transfer my fics and headcannons from tiktok to over here gng, i ain't writing allat💔 but I'll still try ofc so in the mean time here unfed Ranpo stans
❤︎ fem!reader. sfw — angst. arranged marriage (reader + minajael both hate it LOL). enemies to lovers(?). reluctant ‘lovers’. took a lot of creative liberties with minajael’s personality (written before eng twst release of book 8) minajael isn’t that likable here but please hear me out . . . word count 814 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ masterlist
“You could at least look a little bit more happy at our marriage celebration, habibti.”
The thin veil of silk you adorn is not nearly enough to hide the thorny scowl that dares to seep out from underneath at those words, and you scoff at his demand. Ornate gold jewelry gifted by the family of your betrothed that feels too heavy on the skin weighs you down in place beside him, the palace servants placing them on almost as a precaution in making sure you don’t immediately run away from the party.
The numerous luxurious necklaces stacked along your chest feel more like a chain and collar than a gift of gracious good will from one family to another.
As a child, you never understood the tales your aunts and older cousins told of animals who would chew their own arms and legs off to escape capture, even if it meant potentially hindering their lifespan by ridding themselves of vital limbs. It sounded so foolish, so naive in many aspects to you at the time.
Now at eighteen, you understand it all too well.
Your betrothed, a young man only having met you tonight, extends his hand to you, placing it gently atop your own. To the other onlookers, his gesture appears as a sweet grace of honey-coated words to his betrothed. Shy, bashful, and romantic— from the corner of your eye, you watch them coo at the spectacle like you’re a couple of zoo animals.
When he leans in close though, the words that escape his lips are anything but flowery. A serene look graces his face, but behind those kind eyes that had won your grandfather over in an instant you hear his teeth gritting when he speaks.
“Even if you don’t like it, at least pretend you do.”
His hand begins to try and interlace his fingers with yours, and you slap his hand away carelessly, knowing you’re sure to be scolded behind closed doors long after the sun rises on the horizon of a new day by relatives from far beyond that the family tapestry can even name. “Don’t you dare try to patronize me,” comes out faster from your lips than you mean it to, venom laced and on edge by his mere presence alone.
His gaze narrows at your actions. Luckily, no one can hear your exchange of silent battle declarations against one another. The constant chatter of other party go-ers; relatives, merchants, politicians from neighbouring nations and beyond is enough to drown your voices out alone.
Live music blares through marbled walls that tower above your head, a marvellous display of architectural beauty and a finite reminder of how small you truly are. The chandelier that hangs above roars to life even hours after it has been lit, with too many candles for you to even count out of boredom. Such a flashy, audacious display of wealth.
It’s absolutely suffocating all around. The stares of those waiting on either of you two to make a wrong move in this careful chessboard of a marriage— could one even call this a marriage? A union devoid of love, lacking in the joy of what you’d expect in a real marriage.
Maybe he can sense the emotions you’re feeling from the way he leans into you yet again. Perhaps he’s going through the same thoughts and situation as you are. There's no reason for you to care, not when you barely know each other, but his next words pique your interest as he lifts the veil over both your heads.
A moment of privacy in such a whirlwind of a night.
He looks beautiful under the moonlight of the Scalding Sands, with long lashes and such delicate, handsome features to his face, and surely you’d fall in love with his good looks with time— like the cutesy tales of princes coming to sweep their beloved off their feet you’d hear from the storybooks read to you by your caretakers.
But his next words only affirm exactly what you had thought previously.
“When I become king, I’ll have the power to null this . . . union. For now, just grin and bare it.”
You almost laugh at yourself for believing that something so fruitless, so fantastical, could ever occur between the two of you. There is no space for love to bloom in this excuse of a marriage, for neither of you feel the same about one another— and even the most resilient of flowers can’t take root and blossom in a home of dry, barren sand.
The only interests you both share are the desire to be freed from such a tiresome cage lined with silver and gold.
With your spine straight and your gaze held high, you nod in response. He understands where your heart lies, and that may be enough for now.
Although he isn't a fan of using his... royal status in any way, sometimes he needs a little more fun in his life and, why not take advantage of it once in a while. So he invited you over to his room for a relaxing evening in a fancy bath, making sure to get anything he thinks you'll enjoy with it.
When you entered bathroom it was much different from what you had imagined when your boyfriend invited you to a relaxing night over. Minajael was already undressed, sitting in the warm steaming water, waiting for you to join him.
The bathtub was much too big from what you were used to, and Minajael's smirk a little too wide when he heard you come in.
It smelled hintingly of jade vines, and jasmine petals was placed neatly on the bathtub's rim along with a few lit up candles. Mina opened his eyes and looked sweetly at you when you started slowly entering the water limb by limb.
He moved himself a closer to you, but not too much, he just rested near you while you got comfortable.
You both sat quietly in the water for a few minutes, until Minajael suddenly moved his whole body to face you from the side instead. He gently grabbed your shoulders and started turning you so your back was against his chest.
Minajael hugged your waist and rested his head onto your shoulder, instantly closing his eyes again as he relaxed his body fully, practically melting into you.
But it wasn't just Minajael who was dozing of as the two of you became one, as your eyes were begging to be closed. Although you knew that the chances of falling asleep was greater than one would like. And while you wouldn't want to deal with the consequences of falling asleep in the bath; your eyelids decided to betray you.
Although the lovely boy behind you, apparently, wasn't tired at all. And kept your sleeping body upright so he could still rest on it, while also keeping you from hitting your head.
He smiled slightly when he opened his eyes to see your face so close to his. It's not like he wasn't used to it, just that he forgets how beautiful you really are when he isn't close up to you like he is right now.
...
You wake up in a bed that was much too soft to be your own and a delightful scent of tea. Blinking your eyes open slowly you see the vague figure of what might be the back your boyfriend.
"Mina?"
The figure turned towards you as your sight started to clear up.
"Yes, Hayati?"
Minajael smiled at you, staring right into your tired eyes. He sat with a cup of tea on a different part of his bed, too far from you to reach him without moving.
Of which he might have noticed, since he started moving closer to you. Carefully taking his breakfast tray with him, making sure not to spill any tea. When he finally got close enough, Minajael put his hand gently on yours and kissed you cheek.
Oml i wanna change my layout and everything to Minajael aesthetic bc my moots on tiktok know im heavily obsessed with Minajael but lowkey im too lazy to do so😭🙏 I'll js take it slowly....(aka I'll procrastinate)
Warnings: afab body reader. PIV unprotected sex, Lilia takes a dominant role throughout the smut, hair pulling (reader giving), overstimulation (reader receiving), cunnilingus. not proofread it is what it is.
Summary: Out of the kindness of your heart —and naivety mixed in— you nurse back to health the injured fae you came across with in the forest.
Word count: 3.7k
A/N: if you find a mistake just ➖➖ close your eyes like that and pretend you dont see it. my contribution for general lilia lovers (myself included💗)
₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ♡ 🌷 . . . TWST MASTERLIST | NEXT
At first, General Lilia was like a feral cat when you tried to get close to him.
Injured and almost unconscious; that was how you had found him. A gaping wound on his abdomen. Regardless of his blurry vision, he could still make out the smell of a human.
Thus, through deep breaths and pained winces, he demanded that you not come closer. Those demands were accompanied by curses and hisses, of course.
Perhaps you were naive or had no sense of self-preservation, or both, because despite his refusal to receive aid, you carried him on your back.
Had the fae been in better condition, you wouldn't have made one step forward without some inconvenience happening.
Lilia's first instinct, when he awoke the next day, was to attempt to flee before you realized he was up. Granted, the pain from recent battle wounds sliced through his being, rendering him to fall back on the bed.
His heartbeat picked up once he saw you walking into the room, kicking the door shut, and carrying breakfast in your hands.
The fae's words were nothing short of disdainful, accompanied by threats.
You were aware of the complex human-fae relationships and weren't surprised by his outburst. Instead, you ignored his empty words, left the breakfast on the little nightstand next to the bed, and left.
Although the general wasn't pleased at the fact you dismissed his words as if he were blabbering, he himself knew he wouldn't hurt a defenseless human like yourself. He's willing to turn a blind eye to those that aren't part of the Silver Owl's; after all, you weren't an immediate threat to him.
He sighed, turning to look at the source of the appealing aroma on the nightstand.
He wasn't that hungry, right? He could just wait a while longer, just to establish a sense of power over you—he didn't need you as much as you thought he did.
The grumbling from his stomach made his thoughts pause.
By lunch time, you decided it was a reasonable idea to check back on the fae you rescued yesterday.
The plate was clean, as you expected.
Without sharing another word, you gathered the plate and the utensils to head back to the kitchen, until the fae’s low voice and dry manner of speaking interrupted you.
“You know our kind have had conflicts of interest, right?” You couldn’t identify any sort of hostility or ill-intent from him when he spoke his mind.
“I...” You stopped to wonder if you actually considered that detail when you decided to bring this stranger into the safety of your home. “I wouldn’t be able to turn my back on someone who’s about to die,”
Lilia stared at you; you couldn’t discern how he took the comment.
“Hmph,” he said, crossing his arms. “You humans underestimate faes. I’ve survived worse wounds. This is nothing in comparison.”
“Yeah, yeah. You're, oh, so dangerous, and I'm, oh, so fragile. Please don’t kill me, Mr. Fae,” you feigned a squeakier voice. You reveled in amusement at his displeased expression. Suddenly, you realized you didn’t even know his name. “By the way, I don’t know what to call you.”
For a moment, Lilia considered not telling you. He would flee this place as soon as he could, so what was the point? He reasoned. Despite that, he figured that you would be more fearful of him if he revealed his name, as everyone knew the title that was accompanied by it.
“Or do you want me to keep calling you Mr. Fae?” You kept poking fun at him.
“I’m Lilia Vanrouge. Does the name ring any bells to you?”
You stopped for a moment to think.
“To be honest, no.”
Lilia wondered how you were still alive at this point, being so detached from the current events going on. You had just enough information to know about the war that was going on.
Unbelievable. He shook his head before looking down at the bandages wrapped around his lower abdomen.
The dull pain that comes from wounds was still present, albeit less than yesterday. He made an effort to sit up on the bed and undid the bandages, wanting to check the wound. If he applied less strength than usual, the sting was bearable.
You stitched his lesion while he was unconscious. Even though your work was decent, he couldn’t help but wish there were fairies nearby who could speed up the healing process. He couldn’t stop thinking back on his troops, the princess, his kind—they needed him right now.
Lilia’s troubled pondering stopped when you came back.
“I was just about to ask how you were feeling. The stitches haven’t opened, right?” You dabbed the rag into the water, looking to use the piece of cloth to clean up any dirt or blood that might’ve been left over from the prior day.
“Halt, human,” he tried to scurry away, flustered. “I can do it myself. I managed to eat on my own. I don’t need your help. Wait outside,”
“Okay, but you still should clean the rest of your body. I thought I could help you walk to the bathroom so you can use the shower,” you said, placing a hand on your chin. “Will you be able to reach your back? Bend enough to clean your legs?”
Lilia narrowed his eyes, partly out of suspicion. “If I were you, I’d be more cautious of a stranger,” he sighed. “I’ll allow you to help me clean my back. The rest, I can manage. Try anything funny, and I’ll make sure you’ll regret it,”
“Anything funny? You mean killing you? Do you think I would go to these lengths just to murder you?”
“My point stands.”
You guided the fae towards your bathroom; you left him alone so he could undress and wash what he could without your help. Once he was done, he called to you, where he was waiting, sitting on the wooden bathroom’s stool with a towel wrapped around his hips.
He didn’t acknowledge you entering; he just sat there in silence, waiting for you to pour water on his scarred back. Some scars were new, some were old, and others were fading.
His ears flicked when he heard you sit behind him.
The session was…awkward, to say the least. You both were quiet, and you wondered what he was thinking about during his silence. You resisted the urge to trace the scars on his back. You surmised that it must be a sensitive topic for him. You knew about the hardships of war, but having a glimpse of the surface of them awakened a sense of pity for him.
You slid the rag along his back. Albeit having a thin frame, there was some tonification...
He shivered, interrupting both your train of thoughts and your languid movements.
“You done?” he asked, looking at you over his shoulder.
“Yes,” you answered curtly, ashamed of yourself for allowing your mind to wander that much.
From then on, having the general living under the same roof was...an experience. To you, he seemed to have some sort of internal conflict when speaking to you; sometimes, he would speak in a kinder way, and at other times, he would go back to his withdrawn and indifferent attitude.
Like he was afraid of getting too attached soon.
You would tease him, proclaiming that he had developed a soft spot for you. He would either roll his eyes, huff, or deny, until he stopped paying attention to your “pointless ramblings” (as he called them). You couldn’t help but find amusement at the idea of this fae getting tired of your teasing and preferring to ignore them.
Of course, the general would rather die than admit his days in relative leisure with you were quite endearing—he wouldn’t admit his true feelings to himself either—as having someone looking out for you was a change of pace for his days of solitude. Solitude comes in the form of having no one else but himself to rely on.
For a human such as yourself to be selfless enough to nurse him back to health, even if not necessary until a certain point, made you stand out over the rest of the past human interactions he’d experienced.
Avarice and thoughtlessness were, after all, the reasons why the fae clashed with humanity.
Alack, he couldn’t stay here with you for the rest of his life.
Basking in the last rays of sunlight, sitting on the fresh grass as you shared a meal, you didn’t expect Lilia to have a gloomy expression.
“You’re going back to your military camp?”
“The war isn’t over yet. I’ve wasted enough time waiting for my wounds to heal,” Absentmindedly, his hands hovered over where the gaping wound once was. “You’ve been…”
“Hm?” You directed your focus to him, expecting him to finish his sentence while you munched on a slice of bread.
“I’ll give it to you. You’ve been helpful, but also annoying. I wouldn’t have imagined someone to have the ability to both heal and damage someone at the same time,” he took a sip of the tea and turned his head away in agitation.
“Would it hurt too much to just say ‘thank you’?” You rolled your eyes.
“Thank you,” he agreed, so you would drop the topic.
The sun had long since set, the single light source coming from your home. Lilia gave one last glance at your profile, noticing you were deep in thought.
He opened his mouth to tell you he was going inside again. Then he closed it again, thinking maybe you didn’t want to be disturbed by whatever you were reflecting on.
For the past few weeks, stress over how his troops were doing has built up. The general couldn’t wait any longer to go back to them.
He departed that same night.
Lilia took a quick look at the bedroom he has been staying in, checking if there was anything he should take with him before departing.
Alongside his mask, he wielded his magical lithic with practiced ease.
He placed a hand on the window and pulled the lower panel up to open it. With a foot already on the windowsill, he hesitated.
I haven’t said goodbye to...
Almost as if driven by instinct, he went back to the living room, where he last saw you a couple of hours before.
At first, he didn’t see you. He rationalized that you were in your bedroom now; however, a soft snore made him realize that wasn’t the case.
Sprawled on the couch. Blanket on the floor. Your head is almost falling off the edge of said furniture.
That’s how he found you sleeping.
He deadpanned, reaching down towards the blanket on the floor and draping it over your sleeping form.
Did Lilia feel at fault that he didn’t get to say goodbye? Yes. Nevertheless, the fae was set on answering the call of his obligations before letting himself realize it.
Being a proper general like him, he located the camp with ease. Every single one of his comrades celebrated his return.
Now, this was an environment he was used to. It felt right; this was what he was familiar with.
And despite that, he couldn’t shake you off his thoughts. Not even the next day.
His mind kept reeling back on the idea of heading towards your small cottage to apologize.
Lilia groaned in frustration, turning around on the makeshift bed inside his tent. He stared at the walls, asking himself if it made sense for him to have these feelings.
Humans are weak. I should check on that human. Yeah, that’s it. That human is clumsy.
While putting on his armor and tying the knots in their places, he couldn’t believe himself—he was going back just to see you.
It was past midnight. Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to go see you, but he hoped you were up. He remembered that you tend to stay up past that hour.
He found himself smiling fondly at the memory before his smile dropped at the smell of smoke and fire in the distance.
With a racing heart, Lilia hurried to where he knew your home was.
Engulfed by fire.
The orange embers reflected on Lilia’s eyes as he gawked at the unbelievable sight. Soon, his attention was brought back to unknown faces inspecting around the perimeter. He identified the silver armor, and Lilia didn’t waste any more time acting.
“The general!” One of them shouted, the others unsheathed their swords, and they prepared to attack.
By the sound of it, Lilia supposed that this was an ambush, since it appeared that they were after him and set the house on fire to have a better chance of hunting him down.
“Where’s the human?!” Lilia demanded, pushing the lithic blade against the soldier he trapped.
“Calcinated, perhaps,” he spat.
As she was about to slice him open, something stopped Lilia.
With a hand on his arm, you managed to halt his movements. Had you come any later, the soldier would’ve had his neck chopped.
You didn’t give him a chance to question you; rather, you pulled him away from the burning place and into the forest.
To say the fae was speechless was a way to put it—he was baffled. Up until a certain moment, he managed to regain his composure and grab you by the shoulders.
“Why didn’t you let me end him?!” He shook you. “You allowed those pesky pests to get away with it!”
“Lilia—”
“What?!”
“You’re digging your nails. It hurts.”
His arms dropped back to his sides, as if you were scalding hot.
“Now what’re you going to do? Your home…”
“I have no other choice other than traveling back to town.”
“Alone? In the middle of a war? You’re lucky enough I was willing to spare you, but I can’t guarantee other faes will do the same,” Again, his hands were on you. “You’re coming with me,”
Your mind stalled.
“Huh?” You followed him when he began heading in a direction only he knew where it ended. “Are you accompanying me towards the town?”
“Do I look like someone who has that much time to spare?” He squeezed your hand more. “I’ll take you to my camp,”
You stopped walking, pulling on his hand.
“You can’t be serious. Aren’t they going to kill me?”
“Dare anyone lay a hand on you, I’ll return the action tenfold.”
“How are you so sure they won’t dare hurt me?”
“Because I’m their general.”
“So, when were you planning on telling me that minuscule detail?” Your voice became increasingly louder as you spoke from shock. “That all this time, I’ve had the general in my home?!”
“You’re going to attract an enemy’s attention. Shut up,” he said, covering your mouth with his hand. “Let’s get going,”
You managed to escape unscathed from the fire but were exhausted from the stress of having to flee. You hugged yourself while you followed the general, fending off the chill of the night that was starting to seep into your being.
There was someone waiting by the camp’s entrance, and Lilia knew who that was.
“General, there you are!” The man’s green eyes fixed on you; sheer disdain reflected on them upon seeing you. “What’s that human doing here? They didn’t harm you, right?!”
“Quiet, Baur! This human is coming with me,” Lilia looked at you for a second. “This person is... who found me wounded back then,”
It seemed as if Lilia had mentioned you to this fae named Baur before your meeting.
“I trust you’ll keep this a secret. If the soldiers ask why this human is with us, tell them that they’re being held hostage to aid with manual labor,” Lilia had made up his mind. There was no way he would let you dive into danger.
“General… I trust your judgment above all, but—”
“My decision isn’t up for debate.”
Baur shifted his gaze back on you, unconvinced of the general’s judgment. Regardless, he recognized his position and didn’t object further.
You were drowsy. You didn’t notice you followed Lilia into his tent.
Lilia, too, occupied with his own musings, didn’t bat an eye at the arrangement.
"It would be a better idea if—" he turned around and saw you had already made yourself comfortable on his bed. You had shrugged your coat off in a messy manner, one sleeve still up your shoulder.
Acting out what felt natural, he kneeled on the makeshift mattress and finished pulling the sleeve off your body. Then he grabbed the blanket to place it over you, but you stopped him by putting your hand on his cheek.
"You look tired too," you noted with a whisper.
"Not more than you."
"My body's exhausted, but my mind's wide awake still," You moved your hand away from his cheek and reached behind him to slide the hair tie off. His ponytail became undone, locks of hair falling on either side of his face.
His hand snatched yours, albeit his face was flushed and his ears red. He held your gaze, bodies rising in temperature, until he couldn’t hold it anymore and leaned down to kiss you. It started as a vehement desire to demonstrate the feelings bottled up inside.
You weren’t faring any better, hugging him close to you despite how his fangs would bite down on your lip, almost drawing blood from his eagerness. Lilia rested his weight atop yours, pinning you down against the bed, hands wandering around your torso and squeezing what he could.
Breathless, Lilia pulled away, panting, his fangs peeking.
Intrigued by their shape, your thumb touched the pointy edge, feeling its puncture on the surface.
“Your fangs. They’re very sharp,” Your thumb moved away from the impressive canine teeth, preferring to graze it across his reddened bottom lip.
“Keep touching me like that, and I’ll use them to leave marks on that pretty neck of yours.”
You swiped your finger over his lip again.
His hand went straight to your head and pulled to expose your neck; a soft mewl escaped you. In no time, restless hands undid each other’s clothes in a haze. Lilia reminded you to avoid waking up the slumbering soldiers with your constant moans.
Had his mouth not been occupied slurping and sucking your clit, he would’ve had to control his voice too; Lilia had told you to get on top of him, baring your pussy in the most vulnerable way possible by placing your knees on either side of his head. You started by trying to not suffocate him, fearing that it might be too much—Lilia couldn’t care any less about that since he pulled you closer by your hips.
Sloppy—the very image of starving and making a mess between your legs. He guided your hips to move in backward and forward motions, just making it harder for you to quiet down.
“Lilia,” you tried to warn him of your approaching orgasm.
One hand tightened on your hips when he sensed you trying to get off, while the other slid up the small of your back to push you forward, making it easier for him to reach your clit.
“I’m going to cum, Lilia. Please,” You weren’t even sure what you were asking for, but your hips trembled, and you didn't want that satisfaction to end.
You bit down on your hand to silence yourself when you reached your climax.
However, Lilia’s hunger wasn’t satiated. You felt as if he was about to pounce on you, which wasn’t far-fetched, because he proceeded to change positions and push you on your back.
You couldn’t hold back your whimpers as Lilia kept teasing your sensitive clit, trying to tell him you were still coming down from your orgasm, but your own mind betrayed you. Lilia’s grin was fiendish, adoring the way you were so responsive to him.
“That was all it took to get this pussy this drenched?” He fingered your hole, and beyond indecent sounds came from there. “Listen to that. You’re beyond soaked. Even the insides of your thighs are covered with your cum. Didn’t you enjoy that a little too much?” he teased.
“F-Fuck, shut up,” your cheeks burned from embarrassment.
He wasn’t better off himself either. Beads of precum both roll down his dick and drip on your thigh. With the same hand he masturbated you with, he used your slick to further lubricate his cock, even if it wasn’t necessary given how wet you were.
He aligned it with your entrance and pushed in, panting from how good you felt to him. The moment he was completely inside, he began thrusting with unparalleled pace. You bit your lip, along with teary eyes, making your best attempt at keeping your voice down. Lilia noticed you struggling and bent down to shut you up with his own lips. For that instance, the tempo staggered but was still thrusting hard.
Through your foggy mind, you wondered how such a slim body like his was able to muster this much force at such a rapid pace. How a fae with a pretty and charming face like his could be this debauched...
“Ah…” he moaned against your neck, hunger overriding any sense of rationality. Lilia hid his face in your neck, licking and kissing it.
Without you needing to tell him, the general busied his hand with your clit again, pushing you closer to an orgasm. At this point, he went back to that sloppy tempo, and your hands darted to his disheveled hair, tugging those lovely locks of magenta and black hair. You tugged slightly harder without you discerning as you orgasmed, your body quivering from the intensity of the climax. A small grunt left him and came shortly after you.
After a while of catching his breath, he pulled away and lied down next to you.
“You’re lucky these soldiers are heavy sleepers, and my tent isn’t close to theirs.”
You covered your face, realizing that you were basically surrounded by more faes. “I don’t want to show my face to them,”
Essentially, the soldiers were heavy sleepers thanks to the weariness of having to train early in the day, do manual work, fight, run up and down the mountain, and everything else. They didn’t hear a thing. As for Baur, however...
A home without me. (Pt.1) (Pt.2 Here) (Pt.3) (Pt.4)
Lilia Vanrouge.
—Did you know that Briar Valley's General of the right has a child?
a/n: for those who alr read this on tiktok, i swear i rewrote some things😭
You woke up peacefully—too peaceful, almost. The kind of quiet that makes your chest tense because it feels unnatural, like the world is holding its breath. No matter, best get ready for the day.
Silver and Lilia had been clinging to you all morning, as usual. Honestly you weren't always sure where they always come from or why they insisted on shadowing you, but you'd long learned long ago that resistance was futile. So, you simply accepted it, let them. Your morning has become a practiced dance of subtle patience.
By the time morning classes were finished, you were navigating the cafeteria. Silver and Malleus walking silently beside you as Sebek ranted about god knows what, Lilia trailing with his calm measured steps. You slipped into your usual seat and began munching away, focusing on the simple rhythm of chewing and swallowing, disconnecting from the chaos of the world around you. For a few minutes, the warmth of food and the low hum of conversation was enough.
Then, a voice shattered it, "I CATEGORICALLY OPPOSE THIS!" You flinched, your fork pausing midair. You looked up, startled, as if the words itself was sharp enough to cut the air.
"Quiet down Sebek, we're in the cafeteria" a calmer, more measured voice chided.
"Malleus is right, you know. And besides—its already been arranged," Sebek grumbled, clearly unbothered that everyone had stopped to watch. You raised an eyebrow, but remained silent. It wasn't your circus, not today. You were content to sit, observe and focus on the tiny comfort of your meal.
"I can't believe this...you lost your magic and you're... you're withdrawing from school?!" The words pierced through, and your eyes snapped to Lilia across from your seat, he met your eyes and let out a sigh, heavy and weary. "No need to make a production out of this," he said, voice calm but firm. "My magic has been weakening for years. It's been happening before you boys were born—aside from [name]"
They continued to chatter amongst themselves, but all you could hear was a slight buzzing noise as you slowly slid back into your bubble of thoughts. Shouldn't you feel relieved? after all, he was finally stepping away, finally, gone, free from his duties, maybe even free from you.
But as you stared at him, a strange mix of feelings stirred—a quiet bitterness. Yes relief, faint and guilty. And an ache you didn't quite know how to name. For years, you'd trained yourself to survive, to accept distance, to build your own world without needing him. And yet now, seeing him step back, a part of you mourned. Not for his power, not for his magic, but a thought clawed its way from the depths of your soul—you would miss him.
And then, like a whisper under it all, a thought pricked sharply at your chest—shouldn't i feel happy? You weren't sure, happiness, it seemed, was complicated when it had always been intertwined with absence.
As you slipped back into reality, the chattering around you slowly sharpened again—voices returning, sound becoming clearer. "Im just being a selfish old man, really. There's no need to frown like that" Lilia laughed lightly, but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Then his gaze shifted to you.
"And you make sure to look after these three, alright? they can be quite the handful" his tone was playful, yet gentle, then softened just a bit more. "But of course, don't forget to experience the world for yourself. Live for yourself, okay? i know...i know i should've chosen a better time to talk. But perhaps someday, we will." He finished. You looked away, brows furrowing before you could stop yourself, you swore you didn't care, you had spent years convincing yourself you didn't. But he was making it very hard not to.
"So Silver, Sebek, [name] will you help me sort my things out?" He continued pleasantly. Silver answered almost immediately, Sebek just as loud and dramatic as expected. Meanwhile you quietly slipped out your notepad and scribbled. "I can't, me and Yuu have something to do." You were one of the few people who knew about Yuu's dreams—Mickey. The mystery, the lingering question. It needed investigation, and you'd need every bit of help you could gather. You wrote again, slower this time. "Sorry"
Lilia blinked, then gave a soft smile "Hm, alright, it must be important if you look that hurried," He chirped. "What?! how dare you reject a task from Lilia-sama!!" Sebek immediately erupting, voice echoing, but Lilia cut him off with amusement as you stood up from your seat and walked towards where the first years sat.
it wasn't that you didn't care, it was that you didn't want to see him like that anymore. Didn't want to watch him fade, didn't want to stand there and choke on everything unspoken. A thunderclap roared outside. You froze mid-step.
It was unmistakable, you felt that lightning before, not just loud—heavy, almost emotional, it reminded you painfully of a certain dragon fae. You slowly turned, gaze drifting towards the table you all occupied.
Malleus sat rigidly in his seat, shoulders tensed, brows drawn, fist clenched tight against the table. A storm brew behind his calm façade—even without words, his distress was palpable. You weren't a mind reader—far from it. But you didn't need to be. Malleus draconia did not handle loss well, and this wasn't just anyone leaving.
You swallowed, turning back again. forcing your feet to move despite the tightening around your chest. There was a pit in your stomach now, cold and unyielding. It felt like fate was circling overhead, watching, waiting. And you knew it wouldn't wait long. By the end of the week—if not sooner, something was going to break. And none of you would come out of it the same.
It was the end of the classes for the day and Silver and Sebek were in Lilia's room, quietly helping him pack his belongings. The air felt strangely heavy, as if every item placed into a suitcase carried years of memories with it. Silver, searching through his drawers picked up an old candy tin. He blinked, a little uneasy "I hope this isn't from two years ago..." he murmured, prying it open.
Instead of expired sweets, he found something far more unexpected—a neatly folded paper, a makeshift acorn bracelet, and a golden ring threaded onto a necklace chain. The ring seemed to hum faintly with familiarity. Silver felt his eyelids grow heavy, mind drifting, until, "Silver?"
Lilia's voice snapped him awake. Silver straightened and turned, holding up the tin when Lilia noticed the contents and Silver asked about the acorns. "If it's that old... shouldn't we throw it out?" the lighthearted tone vanished instantly "Absolutely not" Lilia snapped, sharper than usual. "Those are my most prized possessions" Silver froze.
"Prized?...but they look so old" "Hehe, why even Malleus is jealous of those two things!" Silver apologized for dismissing its importance. "And this paper, what is it?" Lilia stepped closer, picking up the paper with gentle care as if it were fragile, he unfolded the paper. Inside was your childhood drawing, one you'd once shyly handed him on a day when his stress had nearly swallowed him whole. A little you holding his hand, smiling like the world was safe simply because he was there. It was clumsy, childish...and precious. When you moved out of the cabin, Lilia went through what little you left behind—clothes, scattered belongings, and this paper, no plushies, no trinkets. Just this paper. He kept it, because it was proof, proof that once you loved him without doubt, before he ruined that.
His lips pressed into a tight line as guilt crept into his chest. He remembered his own voice back then—criticizing things normal children do. Pushing you when all you did was reach him. He folded the drawing again carefully, as if rough handling might erase the memory completely. "This one was from a child,"
He said softly, voice trembling with something raw. He knows that child is still there somewhere, "I'll just keep those acorns and the paper—meanwhile..." Lilia than carefully returned the paper back into the tin, then pointed at the ring and lifted it up carefully. "This ring, it should return to its original owner." Silver blinked, "Original...owner?" Lilia placed it into Silvers palm. "It belongs to you" Something warm and aching settled in Silver's chest as he closed his fingers around it.
Meanwhile in ramshackle, you and your usual crowd were preparing for the mickey investigation. Ghost camera, phone with voice recorder and herbal tea were already prepared. However, Ace interrupted Deuce and Grim and reminded them of school reality back into the room and dragging everyone toward the dreaded topic of finals. The Adeuce duo were only allowed to be here to have a "study group" ...which they conveniently lied about and now paid for with towering stacks of books. Then Grim spoke.
"Y'know...if Yuu really does go back home before our sophomore year...do you think I'd still be allowed to stay here?" Silenced immediately swallowed the room. "i... can't imagine the headmaster being that cruel" Deuce said quietly, "At least... i hope he won't"
The mood shifted, gone was the earlier playful chaos, in it's place lingered something painfully real—that one day, this warmth, this little found family—might end. Would they still laugh together? Would things fall apart? Would Grim be left alone? But that was a problem for the future, for now, they still had today.
Ace clapped his hands loudly, a grin appearing on his face "alright, mopefest is over!" the tension dissolved, replaced by familiar bickering and laughter as everyone eventually grew tired from studying and prepared to sleep.
Your eyes were closed when the rustle of bedsheets pulled you back into consciousness. You opened your eyes just enough to see Yuu getting up, soft light flickering outside—Likely Malleus, you turned to your other side. it wasn't your business. And yet, a lingering feeling remained.
A few days passed and you were in the library, tucked away in your hidden corner, peaceful reading. The silence wrapped around you like a blanket while you mentally took notes of each character as the storyline pulled you deeper into their world of imagination. "[name]" The same was soft, careful, respectful of the library's hush. But you recognized it immediately, you didn't look up.
"What are you reading?" He asked gently. You lifted the book, showing him the cover and the back. His eyes scanned the text before lighting up just a little. "ohh... interesting, i didn't know you were into fantasy." You nodded and returned to reading.
Silence fell again. Lilia quietly took a seat beside you—not too close, just near enough to feel present, but distant enough to respect a boundary you both silently acknowledged. He watched you longer for a moment longer than necessary.
another thing he was learning about you only now, something he could've known years ago if only he'd tried. But that was a regret he longer had the right to drown in "You take care, okay?" Your hand paused, you turned slightly, confusion flickering across your face at the sudden shift in tone. He chuckled softly, but there was no real humor behind it.
"I'm serious. I know you can take care of yourself—given that...ah no, nevermind" A breath "i know I'll be far again soon. But, I'm glad i had this time beside you. Even if it was only for a short while" There it was, honesty—late and fragile.
You pulled out your notepad and scribbled, "I know, and i don't want to talk about it." He gave a short nod "Right. My apologies" He reached into his pocket and slipped something into your book, a neatly folded letter.
"Silver and the others are throwing me a farewell party. Everyone will be there—you should come too. Silver will be sad if you're not there" His smile softened "Will then, enjoy your reading. Come if you can."
With that, he left your secluded corner—the place you thought only you knew. Somehow he always managed to find you anyway. You stared at the invitation for a long moment before opening it. A farewell party, hm?
If you went, you'd have to watch him leave again. Have to stand there, pretending it didn't hurt, pretending you were unaffected, pretending distance didn't reopen old wounds you'd stitch together alone, you'd have to face everything he meant and everything he failed to be.
But if you didn't go, you'd spend the night wondering, regretting knowing you let the last chance to stand beside him—no matter how bittersweet, slip away. You'd be haunted by "what ifs" and the image of him looking around the room again, hoping you'd be there.
both choices hurt. Your mind spun, the library suddenly too quiet, too still, too full of thoughts you didn't want to face. You just wanted to read, to stay in your stories where pain was distant and fictional. But reality had a way of finding you.
You slipped the paper back inside. It was fine, you've already decided. Even if your heart wasn't ready for what that decision meant. It was finally saturday night. The night of his departure
The diasomnia lounge was warm with laughter and chatter, lights glowing softly like captured fireflies. Students gathered in clusters, smiling, talking, pretending this wasn't a farewell. It was exactly the sight Lilia wanted to leave behind—no tears, no regrets, just joy. At least...that was the plan.
He scanned the room again. Silver was here, Sebek too. Even the rumbustious first years. But neither Malleus, nor you had arrived.
Malleus he could understand. The prince carried his pain differently. But you? You were different, he wanted to see you. Wanted to speak honestly for once—without playful masks, without evasions, without time running like sand slipping between his fingers. He wanted to say all the things he never said when he should have, to apologize for the years he let slip by, for the ways he failed you.
If you chose not to come, he told himself he would accept that. He would understand, even if it hurt. Silver, of course refused to let things end like that.
Before Lilia could stop him, the boy darted off to search for both you and Malleus. Sebek tried to follow, but Lilia held him back, sending him instead to keep his fellow first years company. Ah youth truly was wonderful. He got swept into conversation after that—laughs, memories, lighthearted teasing. And only realized something had changed when a quiet presence settled beside him.
You had slipped in silently, unnoticed by all but him. His eyes widened for a heartbeat before a bright smile bloomed across his face. "Oh? Look at you," He chuckled, joy slipping into relief. "Come to wave your old man goodbye?" A few nearby first years noticed you and waved. You offered a slight mod, minimal but genuine.
"Would you be so kind to follow me for a moment?" He asked pleasantly, "It won't take long."
The balcony was too quiet, almost painfully so. The party's warmth felt distant, as if it belonged to another world. Here, only the night air carried only cold air and unspoken things. Lilia leaned against the railings, his posture casual—but his hands trembled faintly, hidden by the shadows.
"You grew up well," He started softly, voice light but eyes unbearably heavy "Strong, capable. Stubborn, too. I suppose, i can only blame myself for that one" He laughed quietly, it wasn't cheerful, it sounded like something breaking gently.
Silence fell again, long, thick, suffocating. Then he exhaled "...I was so afraid of losing you," He admitted "Afraid of loving you too little, afraid that if i stayed close, i would ruin you. And if i stayed distant, i would ruin you anyway." His words fell out slowly, like they'd been locked inside for years and now they were bleeding out.
"I told myself you would be stronger if I didn't coddle you. That forcing you to endure would make you resilient" His gaze dimmed, guilt sharp and ugly in his expression "But that wasn't strength. That was me abandoning my responsibility. Dressing neglect up as "Tough love" He swallowed, you had never seen him look so small.
"I hurt you," He continued softly when you didn't say anything. "And you still stayed, still grew. Still managed to be someone kind, capable, a person worth admiring. Despite me, not because of me" His voice finally cracked.
"And now, just when i finally understand how deeply i failed you, I don't get to fix it, try again. I don't get to stay and learn how to love you correctly." He smiled then, it was the saddest smile you've seen on him.
"That's my punishment i suppose, to have a child who once loved me without fear, and knowing that I'm the reason they stopped" Your chest tightened, because he wasn't wrong. You still cared, still worried. Still watching him like something familiar and painful all at once. But the love you had as a child—the love that was warm and brilliant and trusting, that version of you disappeared a long time ago.
"You don't owe me anything" He said, voice barely above a whisper "Not forgiveness or anything. Not even your presence here tonight. But i wanted you to know. I do love you imperfectly, selfishly, stupidly, but sincerely."
"And that sincerity feels meaningless now does it?" You didn't answer, you couldn't. Because inside your quietness, it was chaos.
You wanted to scream, hit him. To cling to him. To say he was right, to say he was wrong. To demand why you had to be the one to carry all the consequences of his choices. You wanted to tell him you did care, that you hadn't stopped worrying. That seeing him like this made something ugly ache in your chest.
But you also wanted to say you were tired, so painfully tired of loving people who left. Instead, your throat tightened and your fingers curled slightly, your only visible response. You hated that he still has this power over your emotions. You hated that it mattered. And deep, deep down. You hated that part of you still wanted him to stay.
Lilia watched you quietly, he seemed to read it all anyway "Even now," He murmured, almost fondly "You wont let yourself cry. Always so stubbornly composed. Always swallowing your feelings because someone once taught you they were inconvenient" You flinched. He sighed "I'm sorry i was that someone."
Your chest ached in a way no spell could heal. Because there it was—the truth you had waited for years to hear, arriving only when he was already halfway out the door.
It wasn't fair, none of this was fair. And the worst part? You still wanted to shout "Stay" even if you knew he wouldn't. Even if he couldn't.
He straightened, forcing a light smile again, like putting the mask back on hurt less than standing there vulnerable. "That's enough heavy talk for tonight" He murmured gently. "You deserve more than my regrets. You deserve a world that loves you better than i did" Before you could react,
"Vanrouge!" Crowley's voice shattered the moment, loud and intrusive. Your time was up. Lilia looked at you one last time. The kind of look that held years of unsaid things. And the crushing reality that they would stay unsaid.
"I hope," He whispered, "That someday, you can live without the weight i put on your shoulders." He smiled again. "Your carriage arrived, It's time."
Lilia let out a light laugh—not amused, just resigned. "Ah, looks like our conversation is over" He looked over at you with a smile, warm but bittersweet "I do hope there's a next time" And just like that, the moment slipped away.
Crowley ushered him back towards the others. The farewell began—Lilia smiling, laughing, waving.
Meanwhile you felt hollow. Not devastated, dramatic. Just painfully empty. Because every goodbye with him felt unfinished. Because just when he finally reached out—he had to leave again. Because you missed chances that were never really yours to begin with.
When Lilia walked away—the world didn't follow. Breaths continued, the wind brushed past your skin. Laughter drifted faintly from somewhere else—alive, careless, untouched.
But for you? Everything simply stilled.
You stood frozen on that balcony with a body that suddenly felt hollow, as if something had been quietly lifted from your chest and replaced with nothing but air. You had imagined, more than once, how this moment would feel if it ever came. You pictured anger, a sharp, burning satisfaction. Something loud—something dramatic—something that felt like victory. But instead in its place, silence.
A quiet ache that sits too deeply to cry out. A heaviness that doesn't fade when you blink or steady your breathing. A pain that doesn't scream, it settles. And somehow, that hurts worse.
Because he finally said the things you once begged the universe to hear. The apology you prayed for. The acknowledgement you insisted you didn't need anymore. Now that it's here, you can finally admit it: you always wanted it.
What you wanted wasn't an apology delivered when time had already run out. You wanted love when it could still change something. You wanted someone to stand beside you when you were still small and afraid. When the world towered over you and you hadn't yet learned how to survive it alone.
He said he was proud of how capable you became—but that was never the point.
You didn't want to become strong out of necessity. You didn't want to become independent because no one showed up. You didn't want resilience to be your inheritance.
And that truth twists inside you—heavy, bitter, exhausted. Because this is unfair.
You sighed quietly, moping wouldn't change anything—so you did what you always done best—ignored it and tucked away your feelings into some abandoned drawer inside your chest before walking off the balcony.
The moment you stepped into the lounge, cheers and goodbyes washed over you—voices wishing him luck, wishing him happiness—while you just stood there, frozen in place, unsure what you were supposed to do with yourself now.
And then, green smoke surged, twisting upwards as magical energy crackled through the air. Gasps echoed. Two figures form from the haze. Silver and Malleus. So Silver found him after all.
"Well, well..." Malleus spoke, voice smooth but trembling beneath the weight of emotion "Quite the glittering assemblage. Students—faculty. Why, everyone's here!" Something in your stomach twisted.
His eyes shone with something far too intense. The air thickened—the atmosphere warped.
"I have a wonderful gift for you all," He continued, power thrumming beneath every word "No longer shall you shed tears over sorrowed goodbyes. This party marks not the end...but the beginning." You breath hitched "...Wait, is he?—" You thoughts, you recognize this image.
The signs were unmistakable. The ink pulsing beneath his skin. The storm in his voice, the grief, the desperation—too sharp, too overwhelming. You could feel it, painfully clear. He was losing control.
The flames flared green, consuming the room's warmth and replacing it with suffocating magic. Thunder cracked, wind howling through cracks. His emotions spiraled, a storm tearing itself apart.
you've seen this too many times, you knew what came next. "You fool!" Lilia shouted desperately. "Do you understand what you're trying to accomplish?! What will change if you do this?!"
"I WON'T HAVE TO LOSE YOU!" Malleus roar split the air. He wasn't just talking about Lilia. He was talking about every goodbye. Every fear, every loneliness. Every moment he was left behind.
"I won't have to be left anymore" That was what he meant. That was what hurt.
You almost laughed—bitter, humorless.
He didn't want to lose Lilia. And yet—what he was about to do—he would lose everything. "Fae of Maleficence!" Malleus changed. Lilia's voice yelled his name.
Flames surged outward, heat roaring like a beast unleashed. Instinctively, Lilia rushed toward you, pushing you back, shielding you from the first violent flare. Your eyes shot at Malleus—ink swallowing him whole.
He spoke the incantation of his signature spell. Voice echoing through the hall as magic exploded outward. Green light surged like a tidal wave, swallowing bodies as students dropped instantly, lulled into enchanted slumber.
The magic brushed against you—warm, soft, deceptively gentle. It felt like a lullaby. Like warm hands in your hair. Like someone whispering "Rest, it's alright" your eyelids grew heavy, you fought it, you always fought everything.
But someone's voice whispered in your ear, tender and reassuring, and your strength slipped away. Your body went weak, your vision dimmed, the world faded.
What if Lilia Vanrouge had a child before the war?
(Pt.1 here) (Pt.2) (Pt.3) (Pt.4)
The boy who called him sir.
Pride of troy— Jorge Rivera-Herrans
Seasons in the sun— Blackbox recorder
The water is fine— Chole Ament
Lacy— Olivia Rodrigo
If you had asked Lilia if he wanted a child, he would've laughed in your face and questioned your sanity. A child? him? absolutely not. His life had been nothing but missions, war readiness, and responsibilities stacked upon responsibilities—there was no room for something as fragile and demanding as a child.
so how did it happen?
In simple, almost pathetic terms: you were an accident.
One dreadful evening, his emotions got the better of him. Stress from military tensions, sleepless nights and the crushing burden of leadership finally pushed him over the edge. He wandered into a dim, crowded pub—its air thick with the smell of alcohol and noisy laughter—and drowned himself in drink after drink in a desperate attempt to shove everything off.
That was when he met her. She was kind, patient, and warm in a way life hadn't allowed him to feel in years. One thing led to another, and in his drunken haze, caution and logic disappeared. By morning, the memory was already fading, folded away as another regrettable mistake he never planned to acknowledge again.
until months later a baby was placed in his arms.
He stared at the infant like it was an illusion, something unreal, something unwanted, his first instinct was to shove the responsibility onto the mother, but she refused, her eyes were tired, pleading and unyielding.
"He's yours now, i cant take a child"
and with that she left.
he stood there frozen, holding a child he didn't choose, didn't want, and didn't know how to love.
He reluctantly took you back to the palace, scowling the entire way. Every glance at you was mixed disbelief and irritation—as if your existence was a personal inconvenience carved into his life.
You didn't grow up in a castle of warmth and affection. You grew up in Lilia's isolated cabin, tucked away far civilizations and other fae, or any semblance of normal life. He placed you there because it was convenient—not because it was safe not because it was kind.
He visited only when duty allowed, which meant rarely.
And even when he did come home, he didn't bring comfort with him.
No bed time stories, no lullabies when you had a nightmare or when you couldn't sleep no, gentle voice, no fatherly smile. Only cold suffocating silence.
He didn't speak unless he had to, he didn't ask how you were, he didn't teach you how to live—just to survive.
Once, you timidly approached him with a drawing, it was childish and your eyes were full of life, a wobbly picture of you holding his hand. You thought he looked tired when he came back, so you picked up a pen in paper and started drawing, hoping he would smile at you.
He didn't.
He frowned.
"You wasted paper on this? Use it for something useful next time." In his eyes you just looked like the typical kid who scribbled. The drawing fell from your hands and you never tried again.
he made sure you had money, he made sure groceries appeared. But care? presence? warmth? Those were luxuries he never was capable of giving. When he left, the house didn't feel empty—it felt like it was swallowing you. So you raised yourself
Your only entertainment became books, because reading was "productive" Drawing was childish, playing was pointless, making noise was unnecessary, speaking became rare.
There were no neighboring children, no laughter, no running in the rain and gentle shouts to come back inside. Nobody to make friends with, no conversations. And most importantly, no childhood to share.
it was just you, the creaking wooden floors, the echoing quiet, and the forest outside, where animals existed as your closest company—silent witnesses to a childhood that never felt like one.
Everyday you waited, not for him to come home. But for the feeling that someday, maybe, you'd stop hoping he ever would.
You...admired your dad, painfully so.
That's why you obeyed every command, no matter how harsh, straightening you back until your shoulders ached, lifting your sword at the precise angle he demanded, turning your body exactly as he instructed with every swing, every motion, every breath of training was scrutinized. Any hesitation, any hint of weakness earned his icy words— "I don't care if you're my child, i won't acknowledge you if you're still whining"
He never once smiled at you, but he never once praised you. Not for the early mornings, not for every bruise that dotted your arms, not for nights spent training in the cold shadows of the cabin. Recognition never came, only silence and the relentless expectations to be better—stronger—perfect.
Still, you watched him with awe, you watched him move with deadly grace among his knights, his presence commanding, flawless, almost unreal. Every swing of his blade, every strategic call, every measure of discipline etched itself into your memory. And quiet, so quiet that the forest could hear—you promised yourself: someday, you would be like him.
Someday you will grow stronger, someday he will see you, someday he will acknowledge you as his son.
Wasn't that...a hopeful dream?
You trained everyday, not just in the palace under his watchful eye, but in the cabin he had left you in, your only "home" Each morning, you woke to the soft chirping of birds and the distant rustle of the forest, lifting your sword, striking at invisible opponents, perfecting your stance. You ran drills until the soles of your feet were blistered, until your muscles screamed, until your hands were raw, because you decided that weakness was unforgivable.
And then there was the day you met Maleanor and her precious egg. You had been curious, bold, perhaps a bit reckless. Your foot slipped, and before you could stop yourself, you stepped on her tail. The shock of her lightning coursed through your body, and pain shot up every nerve like fire. Your dad didn't rush forward in anger to protect you, he simply stood, scowling. Not in concern, warmth—just the same sharp reprimand you had grown to expect "Do not let curiosity get in the way of sense. Control yourself next time."
And so, even in moments of accidental disaster, even when magic fire danced along your skin, you endured. You endured because to be seen, even a flicker, was worth it. You endured because your admiration for him had once been everything, a driving force that made you believe in the impossible: that maybe, someday, you would be enough.
You were out on the palace training grounds, the sharp scent of freshly turned earth and sweat hanging in the air. Your sword still slick with practice, your dad was at the center, demonstrating techniques to newcomers every movement precise, flawless and commanding. The clatter of steel rang out, punctuated by his crisp, sharp instructions.
A few feet away, soldiers whispered among themselves. Their words casual and careless but deeper than any blade.
"Isn't that...General Vanrouge's kid?" "i mean the resemblance is striking isn't it?" "Yeah but it's still unbelievable" "Why would he bring a child here? Makes no sense to me" "it'd be better if he just left the kid at home. Where even is his mother?" "No idea. I heard that kid was a mistake" "Seriously? that kid should've been with his mother rather than under General Vanrouge's care—he's a busy man—this is just a burden."
Your chest froze, your fae enhanced hearing catching every word, every sharp edge in their voices. You stared at your dad, desperate for any sign that he will defend you. His expression remained unreadable, cold and distant as always. Not a word, not a glance in your direction. But his ears twitched ever so slightly. It was enough.
Enough to know that he heard it, enough to know he hadn't said anything, no reassurance, no defense, no comforting touch, not even a single word to silence them. Just silence, and continued instructions for the recruits, his voice sharp, confident, unyielding.
And you left there trembling slightly, the echo of their words sinking into your bones. A mistake, a burden, was that really how he saw you? Was that what you were to your father, the man you adored so painfully, the man whose every step you had tried to mirror, whose approval you had desperately sought?
you barely spoke after that, not that you had ever spoken that much anyway. Even when you tried, your words fell dry against his dry clipped responses. The soldiers whispers had etched themselves into your silence, a weight that pressed heavier than the coldest blade.
You loved him, you always had, but that day—you learned that love might never be enough.
Maleanor confronted Dawn knight, the air crackling with tension and unspoken stakes. The egg rested safely in Lilia's hands, fragile yet pulsing with the life of the future heir. But a thought gnawed at him, sharp and bitter—"if I can't even care for my own blood...how could i possibly raise the heir? Hatching him won't be any different."
Earlier before, Maleanor's eyes lingered on him with quiet resolve. She had to act. And act she did. The skies above split with light, brilliant and scorching, as if the world itself acknowledged her sacrifice.
Lilia cradles Malleus in his hands, the first tremors of fatherly panic washing over him. He hadn't anticipated this surge of raw responsibility—he hadn't prepared for it.
And then he saw you. His own son, standing hesitantly, wanting to speak, to say something—anything—but freezing under the weight of not knowing what to do in these situations "...no" The word was sharp, stern, no trace of softness.
"just go back to the cabin! if only your mother had taken you in...i wouldn't be doing this, i wouldn't be taking care of you at all, Go back. Now!"
There was no room for argument, no opening for appeal. You couldn't speak, you couldn't protest, so you obeyed as you always had done. Slowly you turned and retreated, swallowed by the shadows of the cabin and memories you'd long tried to leave behind.
As the years passed: news trickled in, Lilia was travelling far and wide, all to ensure Malleus hatched safely. You... couldn't help but feel it. A small, gnawing envy that burned quietly in your chest.
you have grown, matured, found your own voice through art, learned to communicate through sign language and writing, You had earned respect as an artist. Finally free of the cold, rigid discipline that had shaped your childhood.
But even in that independence, that freedom, the shadow of the egg haunted you. The future heir, the child Lilia was watching, cared for and praised—yet here you were, the son Lilia held once in his hands, ignored, dismissed and left to his own devices.
You wondered painfully, bitterly:
Is he doing this because he was told to? Because duty demands it? or...does he actually love this child more than he ever loved me?
Even now, years later, the question lingered in your chest like an ache you couldn't name, reminder that some gaps in love, once left unbridged, never truly healed.
you went away on your own, communication has become almost impossible, words felt like chains, heavy and dangerous—and eventually, you found out it was because you had selective mutism. Speaking aloud became rare, exhausting effort, so instead you learned sign language, wrote notes to convey your thoughts, and poured everything else into your art.
Art became your only voice, your only refuge. And for the first time, you could be rebellious, do the opposite thing Lilia demanded in your childhood. You were a teenager now—at least in fae years. strong, independent and determined to carve out your own life. You practiced tirelessly, honed your skills, and eventually earned enough from your work to move out of the cabin that held nothing but bad memories. You settled near a quiet lake, surrounded by soft trees and gentle sunlight—a stark contrast to the rigid walls and cold discipline of your youth.
When Malleus hatched, Lilia couldn't find you. Perhaps in a way, that was for the best. He had heard whispers of a renowned artist in town, talented, precise and quietly admired—but he had never sought out the Identity. It wasn't his business, after all he had once called your paper a waste, hadn't he?
Then, he found Silver in the dim moonlight in a crib. The boy reminded him of all the things he had missed—the mistakes, his enemy on the battlefield, the regrets, Lilia gritted his teeth—conflicted.
"I could end him right now, but then again... i wouldn't know how to face Malleus. Or [name]..."
And so, he took Silver under his care, silently making up for what he couldn't give you.
life eventually became calmer. Humans still feared and resented fae, but at least hostility had softened. Then one day he found you again.
It was jarring, seeing you was like looking into a mirror, your features reflected his own, sharp and striking—but your eyes were hollow, empty in a way that his never had been. His were clearer now, softer in certain light, his healed from Silver. But yours, were the shadows of years left unseen, unloved and unacknowledged.
He tried awkwardly to reach out "Come...visit sometime, my doors are always open"
You didn't answer, you didn't even blink in his direction. Instead you refused, silent as ever, and yet he left his address behind anyway, clinging to the faintest hope that one day, perhaps you might step into that door.
a few months later, you found yourself strolling through town. Mind lost in thought when the sight of Lilia's house stopped you, there was something different about it, warmth, comfort, something you had never felt in your childhood. You hesitated, unsure why the sight made your chest tighten. But before you could step away, The door opened and Lilia spotted you.
"Come in" He said, his voice unusually gentle, almost...inviting. You paused then followed—and you still don't know why you did that.
inside, a grown Malleus was there, and...a human baby? You raised your notepad and scribbled quickly, "What's this?" Lilia smiled faintly, a little awkwardly.
"His name is Silver...and, well he's a human" You paused, it's because of his hair color isn't it? You've always known Lilia was never great at naming things. "Are you sure you're keeping him?" "He's been here for a few months so yes! Malleus has been helping me!" Wait, won't that make you his older brother? you didn't ask him that but the question lingered.
Malleus awkwardly cradles Silver in his arms, moving carefully as if the human were made of glass. You watched him, noting how deliberate he was, how tender. Your chest tightened, you could tell he was trying not to hurt him, not even a little because humans are fragile.
And then there was Lilia. He was...different, not the cold, rigid general of your memories. No, this Lilia was alive, cheerful—energetic, full of warmth and life. You felt a whiplash, was this... Silver's effect on him? or perhaps retirement had softened? you weren't sure, but the contrast left your chest heavy.
As the years passed, Silver grew and so did his bond with Lilia. He called him "Father" effortlessly, and to your surprise, Lilia didn't correct him. Then one day, Silver turned to you, wide-eyed and said "Big brother" And he had never stopped, and you didn't mind; you didn't react much, but the words stung, layered with reminders of what had never been yours, Silver was always calling for something, needing guidance, needing cheer—And Lilia complied, patient, soft, encouraging.
Baur's grandson Sebek joined the mix too, wanting to train as part of Briar Valley's guards. You watched Sebek and Silver trained together, clumsy and stumbling the first time but Lilia encouraged and cheered them on. Every smile, every clap from your father...it was the same love and energy you had yearned for all your childhood.
And you wondered quietly on the sidelines—what did these children have that i didn't?
You studied their determination, the way they rose and after failure, and it reminded you of yourself. You had once worked tirelessly, desperate for his approval, training endlessly, aching for the smallest word of praise. The difference was stark: they received it freely, you hard to earn every shred.
Was it so hard? so impossibly hard to give love to your own son? how come he never looked at me with that much pride in his eyes, maybe i needed to train more? Why, are they easier to love than me?
You visited again—begrudgingly, really—only because Silver kept asking you to. He always wanted you back, always tugging at your sleeves, always looked at like you were something he couldn't afford to lose. The one time you mentioned being gone for a week, he cried and you stayed.
Silver and Sebek eventually grew into fine soldiers. Of course they did, Lilia trained them. Sometimes you looked at Silver and wondered how he survived growing up on Lilia's cooking, a miracle really.
You admired their drive, their determination, the way he shone under Lilia's guidance, but somewhere along the way, you stopped wanting to be like him. Stopped chasing his shadow. You learned to walk on your own path instead.
Of course life never goes the way you planned.
Lilia eventually enrolled into Nrc. Before leaving, Lilia entrusted Silver and Sebek to your care until it was their turn to attend. You didn't answer him, but he somehow knew your answer anyway. So they left, and you stayed.
You continued their training in Lilia's place. You cooked for them too. Silver was especially grateful—mostly because he no longer had to guess or fear whatever strange poison Lilia puts in his "meals"
Time slipped by quietly. Before you realized it, another year passed, and then came the invitations. Silver received an invitation to Nrc, Sebek would follow soon enough. But what shocked you...was because you also received one, too.
You stared at it, and hated that it existed. You didn't want to be a mage, you didn't want to learn more, you already know the basics, and you didn't want to chase anything more. You were ready to throw it away.
But Silver begged. Not as a soldier, not a knight in training. But as a boy calling out for his older brother. And no matter how bitter you were towards Lilia...not of that was Silver's fault.
You sighed, and went with him with Silver to NRC, leaving Sebek temporarily behind.
Diasomnia. Of course, where else would the universe shove you? No one at NRC knew what you really were to eachother, and you intended to keep it that way—at least until you all graduated. You kept your distance, like always, spoke a little, stayed away from the spotlight, Silver spoke to you consistently and you never pushed him away.
Most days you could be found sitting quietly in the courtyard. Watching from afar—present but never close, part of their world, but never quite allowed to belong, you still don't know how to accept, you never directly confronted or made amends with Lilia, or maybe he did try but you pushed him away unconsciously. But no matter, it's not like you belong in their little family.
A year passed quietly. You were standing in the mirror chamber while headmage lectured the supposedly magiclesss student, and honestly—that was probably the most interesting thing this school had offered so far. Then a raccoon...cat, beaver—whatever creature burst into the room, chaos following it like a curse, and before you knew it—the whole place was practically in flames. Sill you didn't budge. You just watched, observed. This strange new student, interested you—somehow.
Well, one thing led to another, events spiraled in the way Nrc always promises they will, and somehow you found yourself fighting against Riddle rosehearts overblot, how? Ace.
And miraculously, you all managed to win. Somewhere between battles, detentions, arguments, late night walks back to ramshackle, and shared disasters. You...well—slipped. Without noticing you became part of something.
You, the Adeuce duo, Yuu and Grim formed a bond that crept in slowly—quiet unannounced, and terrifyingly gentle. It was strange letting you guard down around people so much younger than you. But you didn't complain, in their company, for the first time in a very long while, the chaos in your chest went quiet. They accepted your silence, your stillness. They learned how to tease and when to leave things untouched. They questioned at first, but they adapted.
You didn't realize how dangerous that was—how easy warmth makes you forget the cold you're used to.
Lilia noticed. He noticed you weren't hovering nearby anymore. He remembered the day you told him you wanted to live for yourself, and he didn't think you meant it like that. He still wears his guilt like a crown—heavy, glittering, suffocating. He's spent countless nights rehearsing apologies, thinking of words, only for them to crumble on this tongue whenever he sees you.
Because when he sees you now, you look peaceful, laughing quietly. Relaxed, not a soldier, not an obligation, just a person like no other. You look like a person he doesn't feel worthy of approaching.
You've told him many times that you resent him, that you don't want him near you, and he can't even be angry about it. How could he? He doesn't know you, not really. You're so impossibly closed off, so silent, so guarded. All he knows is what you let him know: strong, distant, unreadable. And that is not knowing you at all.
He knows how to soothe Malleus when he's agitated, he knows what lullabies Silver falls asleep to the fastest and sleep better, he knows exactly what Sebek will rant about next. But he doesn't know you.
He doesn't know your comfort food, what scares you, what songs you like, how do you laugh when you're genuinely happy? He goes silent.
because those things are a father should know. Things he should've learned long ago. He hates his past self for turning you into a weapon when you still need arms to rest in. He missed your first steps, first words, first everything—moments that should've been simple to be there for if he just tried. Does he even remember your birthday?
He watches you now, sitting comfortably with your friends, bickering about meaningless things, and realization strikes him like a blade—this is your first time experiencing something like this.
First time being a normal student, having regular teenage frustrations, dumb arguments, warmth that doesn't demand blood payment in return. You are still learning how to live, he refuses to ruin that. He won't drag you into his guilt. He won't burden you with remorse that came far too late.
But he doesn't know what's happening inside you. He doesn't know how often your gaze wanders to where he sits with Silver and Sebek in the cafeteria. Silver trying desperately to stay awake, Sebek yelling at him for it and Lilia laughing fondly like that's the most precious thing in the world.
And that's when it hits you, he's never laughed with you like that. You should've had that, you should've at least received the bare minimum. You should've been the one to know what his warmth feels like firsthand. Home. Family. That's what they look like. The part that hurts isn't jealousy, it's the truth written right in front of you—he always knew how to be gentle. He just never learned how to be gentle with you. Maybe he learned too late, maybe he never tried to change when it was you who needed it, maybe they received the man he became, and you were stuck with the man he used to be. They got the version that had grown. You got the version that failed.
If he were cruel to everyone, it would've been easier. If he were distant, incapable, heartless—then you could've accepted it. But seeing him now, laughing so freely, hand resting on Silver's shoulders with a familiarity that never once belonged to you. It proves something unbearable—you weren't a victim of circumstances, you were a victim of priority. They got the softness he grew into—you were just the child he practiced not caring for.
And maybe you were never meant to be held, maybe you were always meant to be the reminder of every mistake he refused to acknowledge. A living testament of a father who learned to love, just a little too late.
So you swallow the ache in your throat. Forced a breath and returned to your friends—quietly, like always. Because if there's anything life taught you, it's that no one is coming to make up for the love you never received. You just learn to live without it.
Lilia loves his sons so much, you could never compare with Malleus, Sebek and most of all—Silver. Oh how you wished to be in his place. But you wouldn't feel right to take something that isn't yours.
And so the thought burns—maybe if you had been stronger, louder, better. Maybe he would've noticed you.
Maybe you would've been enough to love.
For the people who kept waiting even after they outgrew hope. Standing beside a great man but still feeling alone.
