Just so you know it's me

18⬆️ | She/her | I have a separate blog dedicated to twst/Leona x MC.

[lionnhibiscuslikes]

Call me Tammy. (LeonaTamer-Tamer-Tam-Tammy)

She/her. 18⬆️.

I'm going to use this blog to like and reblog stuff (mainly twst x reader/MC/Yuu posts that I want to read and re-read over and over again) on tumblr so it doesn't clog up my twst blog.

@leonatamer: My twst blog. Dedicated to twisted wonderand and Leona x Yonah (my MC/Yuu) drawings and webcomics.

[thekirakage]

"Sunlight by His Fur"

pairing — leona kingscholar x sunshine! reader content — gender neutral reader, grumpy x sunshine troupe, leona's a softie, lion courting rituals emphasised but not directly mentioned, leona typical sharpness (he's just shy i promise), ALL FLUFF!!

The greenhouse was already warm when you slipped inside, sunlight filtering through the glass in long honey-gold stripes. The air smelled faintly of fresh soil, blooming flowers, and the gentle green scent of leaves warmed by the sun. It was the kind of quiet morning most students never caught Leona awake for - which made the sight of him lounging deeply in the centre of a sunbeam almost surreal.

He lay stretched across the grass like he owned the place, one arm behind his head, eyes half-lidded but awake in that lazy, predatory way. His tail flicked in slow, rhythmic arcs, brushing the grass blades with soft whispers of sound. He must have heard you far earlier than you realized, because the moment your footsteps crossed the threshold, he let out a low, rumbling sigh.

“…You’re early,” he grumbled, voice gravelly with sleep.

“I brought breakfast,” you said brightly, lifting your basket “And moral support. All highly nutritious.”

“You’re loud,” he said, but there was no sharpness in it - only that familiar, half-melted annoyance he reserved just for you. Only you. Only ever you. Still, he shifted his leg slightly, creating a space beside him. An invitation, and you took it eagerly, with a pep in your step. You sat down, feeling the warmth of the sun-soaked grass immediately seep through your uniform.

He eyes the basket “What'd you bring?”

“Food,” you replied with that cheeky little grin on your face, the one you always wore when you were being intentionally difficult. “Obviously.”

You nudged a sandwich into his hand in place of an answer. He took it without complaint, tearing off a bite in a way that was just a bit too sharp, just a bit too instinctive. His tail swayed once, betraying a contentment he’d never willingly admit. You made a damn mean sandwich... somehow.

The greenhouse felt gentler when he was in this mood - quiet, steady, almost peaceful. You found yourself leaning closer, shoulders brushing, the faint warmth of his skin radiating beside you like a second sun. The scent of him was warm too: sun-baked grass, something richly earthy, and the faintest hint of whatever shampoo he pretended he didn’t bother with.

When you teased “You look comfortable. Like a big sleepy housecat,” he flicked an ear, a twitch of warning.

“Call me a housecat again and see what happens,” he muttered, but even his threats sounded too lazy to be serious. You knew you were privileged to not immediately receive a cold glare or a beating for your words - but you knew Leona liked you a little too much to do any of that.

You laughed under your breath, and he exhaled through his nose - something between a huff and a reluctant almost-smile.

As you leaned forward to grab a drink, your hair slipped over your shoulder in a soft, shining curtain. It shimmered where the sun hit it, catching gold in its strands, and before you even registered movement, Leona’s hand rose.

His fingers slid into your hair.

Not a pat. Not a playful tug.

A long, slow stroke from root to tip - deep, careful, deliberate.

You froze, breath catching. His claws, lightly sheathed, grazed your scalp in a way that sent a faint shiver running down your spine. His fingers brushed through the strands like he was smoothing them, arranging them, learning their texture by instinct rather than thought.

It was tender. Instinctive. Possessive in the softest possible way.

He didn’t seem aware of what he was doing until he neared the ends of your hair… and stopped abruptly. His whole body tensed. The realization hit him like a dropped brick.

Slowly, painfully slowly, he withdrew his hand.

“…Shit.”

His ears flattened hard. His tail puffed out just slightly, betraying embarrassment so intense it almost radiated off him.

“Leona,” you said softly, unable to hold back the gentle smile creeping onto your face. “Did you just-”

“No.” “You did.” “I said no.” “Leona, you groomed my hair.” You tease with a wide grin "Like those lions in nature documentaries."

He dropped backward into the grass with a groan, arm thrown over his eyes. “You herbivores never let anything go…”

You shifted closer, leaning over him so your hair brushed his shoulder again, intentionally this time. His tail flicked, almost startled, before curling loosely around your calf in a reflex he probably didn’t know he had.

“If it was instinct,” you murmured “does that mean I’m allowed to do it back?” You were testing, maybe a little too confidently despite the way your heart thudded with purpose in your chest.

He froze. The arm over his eyes slipped just enough for one sharp green eye to meet yours.

“…You’re playing with fire,” he muttered, but he didn’t move - not away, not even to pretend he didn’t want it.

You lifted your hand carefully, giving him every chance to pull back. When he didn’t, you touched his hair - warm from the sun, softer than it looked. You brushed your fingers near the base of one ear. He inhaled sharply, barely audible but unmistakably real.

His tail tightened slightly around your leg. A grounding touch. A quiet tether.

“You’re warm,” you whispered, continuing to comb gently through his hair.

“You’re annoying,” he answered automatically (it always was his go-to insult) - but his voice had dropped, mellow and low, threaded with something vulnerable. He shifted, letting your hand guide him until his head rested against your shoulder. The movement felt instinctive, practiced, like he’d done it a thousand times in his mind before daring to do it in reality.

Your fingers drifted across his scalp, and this time he made a quiet sound - a deeply satisfied rumble hidden beneath his breath. Almost a purr. You pretended not to notice, sparing his dignity for once - he was already being vulnerable, no point in giving him a reason to retreat back behind those carefully crafted walls.

After a long moment, he nudged into your hair again with a slow, deliberate stroke - purposeful this time, not instinct taking the lead.

“…If you tell anybody, you’re dead,” he murmured, voice warm and drowsy against your shoulder.

“I won’t,” you whispered back. “I like it.” The 'I like you' left unsaid on the tip of your tongue.

Another soft rumble vibrated in his chest - this one unmistakably pleased.

“Good,” he said, fingers threading lazily through your hair, claws lightly grazing your scalp in a rhythm far too soothing “Because I’m not stopping.”

He curled closer, tail snug around your ankle, sunlight pooling over both of you in soft gold. His touch stayed gentle, steady, the kind of affectionate typical lion behaviour no one else would ever be allowed to witness from Leona Kingscholar.

And as you leaned into him, breathing in his warmth and feeling the gentle drag of his claws through your hair, you knew without question that this - this sunlight, this closeness, this quiet instinctive affection - was his way of choosing you.

[sweetiestars]

“Adore me completely” with Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, and Leona Kingscholar

You show your affection for their scars!! (slight hurt/comfort)

Leona mentioned!! @kittikissd

In the comforts of Riddle Rosehearts’s dorm room, he permitted you to be as affectionate as you pleased. The flush on his cheeks gave his own contentment away.

His makeup was being wiped away by your careful movements. Murmured warnings of when you were going over his eyes or lips, he obeyed your instructions. Simple commands to make sure he doesn’t risk irritation.

You grabbed a cloth to dab his face from the wetness of the makeup wipes. His face scrunched as you swiped the remaining stickiness away the best you could. Such a small gesture made his heart race.

“These small dents in your face, what are they from?” He reached a hand to touch where you were looking. He couldn’t understand what you meant for a second. All his fingers felt were the chubby cheeks he never quite grew out of.

When he ghosted over a spot. Closer to his nose, there was scarring. You could call them dents, he supposed, but they were simply a result of his previous skin-picking.

Following his mother’s rigid routines for hygiene never got rid of his acne. Though it’s gotten immensely better from the beginning of his time at NRC, the habit is engraved in his face.

You traced his face with a pinky. In such a calming manner, he let his hand fall. His posture relaxed. It felt like you were drawing constellations on his features. “Would you trust me to see this more often?” You asked him with an unshaken demeanor. “You’re so beautiful to me. And these scars further prove that.”

His lips made an O-shape, before a gentle smile emerged on his features. “Yes, as long as you aren’t causing any commotions, I have no objections.” He made the first move, leaning his forehead against yours. That smile widened.

You adored him, seemingly no matter what. That was a notion he’d treasure the rest of his life.

Trey Clover had nothing he bothered hiding. You could say he found comfort in being an open book. That goes for the discolored lines that litter his forearms.

In mundane, everyday tasks like baking, it’s easy for your mind to wander. You always do what you can to keep your boyfriend company, but focusing your attention on actions you’ve seen several times? That’s the challenge.

Naturally when he rolls up his sleeves to knead the dough he’s working on, you don’t question it. But your eyes drift to the lines on his arms. Some are faded, barely noticeable if you’re not deliberately staring. Others are impossible to miss. Though they’re obviously just scars, you wanted to know more.

You waited until he was finished. The last of the pastries were in the oven. You convinced him to just use magic to clean up, and save the hassle of putting things away by hand.

You didn’t miss the way his eyebrow quirked at your odd insistence. But soon enough, everything was done. All there was to do was wait on the baking time to finish.

“How did you get the scars?” You blurred out without much thinking.

He cocked his head to the side. There was a fond look in his eyes, and the curve of his lips mimicked that. The kindness was betrayed by his teasing ask, “if I tell you, would you wanna kiss them better?”

The distinct difference between his passive nature with fellow classmates and the teasing demeanor he displays to you needed to be studied. I just feel free around you be damned. He was getting joy out of catching you off guard.

He took a few small strides towards you from his spot by the oven. He sat next to you at the kitchen’s island counter. “I was a clumsy little kid, so naturally, I left our family’s bakery with a couple burns and scrapes.” A chaste kiss was placed on your cheek before you knew it, and the oven went off.

He got back up to check on the baking goods. They wouldn’t be finished for a while longer, but he wanted to make sure they were rising correctly.

He was pulling the pans out to take closer looks. That was the time you chose to speak up again. You muttered loud enough for him to hear and nobody else, “They’re already healed, but could I still kiss them?”

The clang of the pan hitting the oven rack made you jump. Trey didn’t look at you for a few seconds. He seemed to be composing himself before he answered you. His reply had that same quiet joy as his smile earlier, “I’d never reject a sweet offer like that.”

The idea of being stuck with Leona Kingscholar’s laundry made you feel dizzy. You told his grubby little hyena that much, and yet here you were. Folding the prince’s sleeping shirt while Ruggie worked on the undergarments (it was the least he could do).

“You owe me for this and you know it,” you grumbled as he grabbed the clumsily-folded piles.

Earplugs would’ve been nice to block out his snickering. You could hear that irritating grin when he teased, “c’mon! I should be compensated for your sloppy folding. My pompous housewarden might not settle for less than the greatest, y’know.”

It was an odd dynamic between you both. He knew you were fond of Leona, and liked to string you along for his own enjoyment (and maybe to help you out if he felt nice). You didn’t mind helping the second year out, even if you only gave a hand to be on his gpod side.

You both knew Leona would screw up the folding anyway. He wouldn’t complain or nitpick for any reason EXCEPT messing with you guys. “Throwing a fit about how it’s folded? That’s Vil’s job,” in his own words.

In the middle of the last piece of clothing you were doing, Ruggie plucked it out of your hands and tossed it on the dresser. “Don’t worry about that one. He’s gonna rummage around to grab it later, and I don’t wanna hear him blaming me for not finding it.”

You acknowledged his words with a hum before he continued talking with a growing grin. “Y’know that scar on his eye, right? Pretty hard to miss with your ogling at him. What do you think about it?” You chose to ignore his blatant tease, noting how he glanced at the bedroom door. Leona would be coming back soon.

“I wanna know the story behind it,” you answered. Whether Leona was on his way back, or behind the door and waiting to hear your praises; you chose to be honest. “I think it makes him look stronger than he already is, but I wish I could understand it.”

Ruggie hums in an obnoxious manner, definitely pretending to care more than he truly does. “Well, you can keep stroking the guy’s unbearable ego in a sec. I’m not gonna lose my appetite from your lovey-dovey stuff. See ya!”

Without hearing any of your confused objections, he brushed past you and bolted out the door… with Leona’s wallet tucked between his fingers. Of course.

In the doorway, Leona is standing with a less than impressed glance in the direction Ruggie ran toward.

His ears flick when you sigh. He cocks his head to the side when he meets your eyes. “Letting the smug thief run off with my wallet, huh? I could’ve had my life savings in there.” You weren’t given the opportunity to protest against his accusing words.

He lazily sauntered towards you, and pulled you with him onto the bed. Unceremonious as always, he shuffled you both until he was pleased with the position (and you weren’t fighting to suppress any signs of discomfort).

“I dunno how to explain the story behind it, ‘cause I can’t remember. I wouldn’t mind hearing you blab about it though. Maybe I’ll even let you touch, if you earn it.”

And who were you to reject such an offer?

Okay, first time TRYING to write Trey Clover. How’d I do?

[evermore-07]

My Heart Stays With You | Leona K. - mistress! yuu

another repost from my old account cuz im dumb asf and it got stolen from me lol

Leona Kingscholar x Mistress! Yuu

Synopsis:  Leona had been forced into an arranged marriage with a noblewoman, but he had already been in a relationship with Yuu. They loved each other too much, and both of them weren’t willing to let each other go. So in their own selfish ways, they stayed together despite the ring shining on his finger.

The two of them never thought it would get to this. 

Leona had hoped that he would at least be able to make her his officially. All he needed to do was graduate and introduce her to his family, as reluctant as he was to let her into the royal life for the fear that she would have to carry the weight of it, he was far too selfish to let her go.

But Yuu didn’t mind at all. Just like him, she was far too selfish to let him go.

. . . 

. . . . 

. . . 

When the news came to her that Leona had no choice but to push through with the arranged marriage, he rushed to her room in Ramshackle Dorm to hold her in his arms.

“Stay with me,” He begged that night, holding her in his arms with all the strength he could muster. “Please stay with me.”

It felt out of character for him to say those words with such strong emotion, but in the years they’ve been together, as she approached her fourth year in NRC, Leona slowly learned to lower his walls around her.

Only around her. Just her.

“Stay with me. I won’t do anything with her. I promise.”

“But…” 

Hearing her strained voice and her choked sobs as she cried on his shoulder broke his heart. His heart… that he had given to her all those years ago when she accepted him with all of her being… 

How unfair could the world get?

“I won’t. You’re the only one in my heart,” he stated firmly, a promise that he would hold himself to for the rest of his life. 

“That stupid marriage is only for formalities. A political convenience. That woman and I don’t even have to do anything, and I don’t intend on giving myself to her. Not my love, not my mind, not my body.”

He looked into her eyes, furrowing his brows with intensity. When Yuu looked at them, she could feel the fierce heat of his love for her and his unyielding devotion.

She understood his place. He really had no say in the marriage, it had already been set in stone. Leona knew this well, and yet he couldn’t help but feel guilty… she had been so kind to him, so understanding…

“Yuu…” his voice was molten gold, and it seeped through the cracks of her heart.

“I love you. Only you. Please stay with me.”

“I will,” she said without hesitation.

He kissed her the moment she said those words, and a night of passion between them followed. 

That wouldn’t be their last.

 * * * * 

The night before his wedding, Leona drove to a villa some distance away from the palace. 

It was distant from other residences and a little more solitary. Leona knew it would be perfect for Yuu, so he bought it immediately before anyone else could so she could live there with Grim after their graduation.

He knocked on the door, and it opened within a few seconds. 

He felt his heart beating rapidly when he saw her face. For a moment, Leona felt at peace.

Yuu smiled, looking just as relieved, “You’re here…” 

He moved to embrace her.

Ever since the arranged marriage, it was the first thing he would do whenever he visited her. An act of reassurance that he would forever be hers. 

“I came just as I said I would,” He said.

“It’s tomorrow.”

“Will you go?”

“I promised I would.”

“It would hurt you…”

“It would hurt you just as much…” she said, her voice breaking, “I…I promised you that I would…always be there to comfort you…”

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable any more than I already have,” he sighed. His woman was far too kind to him. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she tried to be a little petty. 

“I think… I think it would make me more uncomfortable not seeing you, knowing that you would be with her…”

He held her tighter as he recalled the day’s events.

Leona knew that his brother was aware of his distaste for the marriage, but the will of their father, even as he lay sickly on his bed, had to be followed.

“Leona…”

He knew what that tone in her voice meant. 

He looked down at her slightly, immediately noticing her half-lidded eyes and her sudden shy but sensual smile.

“Will you stay with me a little longer…?”

She didn’t even have to ask.

He pulled her to her bedroom. And there, they lost themselves into each other’s arms, wrapped up in the heat of their love.

. . . 

. . . . 

. . . 

“Did you meet up with your friends?” 

The question came to him as they basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking. She had her head against his chest, his arm around her as he slowly traced shapes on her skin.

“Jack said that you asked him and Ruggie to escort me…” she said, recalling her meeting with her friends from NRC the past week.

Leona had taken it upon himself to invite some notable people from NRC, especially those he knew she would be close with. Most of them also knew of the relationship they kept going through with, as dangerous as it was.

Vil Schönheit had actually been the one to visit her first. He was invited as Leona’s acquaintance and former school “friend”, according to Leona himself. Vil was one of the few people who knew about their continuing relationship despite Leona’s arranged marriage, and out of respect for Yuu (who Vil was clearly fond of) agreed to keep it a secret.

Kalim and Jamil were invited as well, under the pretext of Kalim being the first son of House Asim and Jamil as his servant. When they came to her home, they reminisced on old times and agreed to keep in touch.

As she told him about their visits, she remembered another thing.

“I didn’t expect you to invite Malleus to the wedding…” she said.

“He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

“Yes but…”

Although she continued writing to Malleus, as he was her cherished friend, she knew that the two of them hardly got along. 

“A lotta random royals, nobles and celebrities are invited out of formality, so I thought that I might as well invite someone you’re familiar with. Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus came to mind at first.”

He looked down at her as he stroked her hair, “I’m sure you’ll be fine with their company. If you’re around people like them then no one should be able to bother you. I made sure to tell them all to visit you before the wedding.”

Malleus didn’t come alone, of course. Lilia, Silver, and Sebek came there as the Briar Valley prince’s attendants. 

Those four weren’t daft by any means. She knew that they had probably already figured out that they were keeping their relationship a secret from the public.

“Are you alright with this?” Sebek had asked her, his voice strangely reluctant and…soft.

“We both aren’t,” she admitted to him, “But this is… the only way we could live right now.”

Malleus sighed, lamenting how unfortunate your circumstances are.

“If you need a place to belong, let us know,” He told her. “Briar Valley will welcome you with open arms.”

“Thank you.” But I belong with Leona…

“Leona, congratulations on your wedding.”

Leona watched as Vil approached him, with Yuu around his arm.

Vil turned to the bride with a practiced smile, “and to you as well, my lady.”

“Congratulations, both of you,” Yuu said with a smile that made Leona uncomfortable. He hated her fake smiles, only wishing joy for her every time they were together.

He hated this. He hated all of this.

“You truly are fortunate, Lady Aisha,” her words pierced his heart like a bullet. His hands were itching to hold her in his arms. “To be wed to Leona… well, it might not be easy but…”

Yuu met his eyes, something profound shining within them, mixed with hopelessness and pain. 

“I’m sure…he’ll be a very wonderful lover.”

The bride noticed the look Leona was giving the human girl while pondering the meaning of her words. With a strained smile, clearly masking her irritation, Aisha intertwined her arms around Leona’s and smiled at her.

“Oh I am well aware of that,” she says with a sickeningly sweet smile, “he had always been so good to me.”

Yuu didn’t mean to take her words too far, but despite the bitterness in Aisha’s words, she smiled like a flower in bloom, masking her pain like it was nothing.

“I wish you both happiness.”

. . . . 

. . . . . 

. . . . 

“Kifaji.” 

The royal family’s long-time aid turned around at the sharp call of Leona’s new bride. Her features were marred with irritation, unbefitting of the occasion.

“Yes, my lady?” He acknowledged her calmly, ready to take every complain she has.

“Who is that woman?”

Kifaji looked at where she was pointing only to see Leona chatting with Yuu.

The aide’s expression softened at the sight of them. Leona’s eyes were unguarded as he spoke to the young woman, seemingly taking in every word she was saying. Yuu, on the other hand, despite the occasion simply seemed happy to be in the presence of the second prince.

It was the same scene he had seen quite a few years ago, when Leona brought her along with some other schoolmates for Tamashina-Mina. She was a darling little thing— beautiful, compassionate, with a hint of mischief that she shared with the second prince. She got along well with their friends and Leona cared about her more than he liked to admit. But it didn’t escape Kifaji’s eyes when he saw Leona buy her a gift. A necklace the same color as his eyes, just as she requested.

“You should have chosen one with your eye color instead.” He heard Leona say to her.

“No,” she shakes her head, “I like the color of your eyes better.” 

She was sweet, and by no means a push-over. She knew how to keep Leona in place without being pushy, and it was clear to anyone that Leona favored her greatly.

Kifaji had…hoped that he got to see Leona happy with her.

If it hadn’t been for the arranged marriage that the two princes’ father wanted… then maybe… maybe then the second prince would finally smile for the rest of his days…

“She is Miss Yuu, a long-time friend of his Highness,” he told Aisha calmly. “Prince Leona is quite fond of her, as is Prince Cheka, please do get along with her.”

“They look too close to be friends,” she quipped.

Kifaji could only do what he could for the Prince he had taken care of…

“I would not worry about that,” he said, expression unchanging, “I am certain that they are only friends.”

The lady huffed before fixing her wedding garments and going back to the party, Kifaji could finally breathe.

It was 12 AM at midnight, just two hours after the wedding and the reception ended when she heard something park itself on her driveway. 

Before she could get the chance to look out the window, someone immediately knocks on the door.

In a rush, she opens the door only to see the lion that had been plaguing her thoughts, feeding the shadows whispering in her mind.

He was…

Arms wrapped themselves around her in a warm embrace.

“I drove here as soon as I knew everyone was asleep.”

She returned his embrace, feeling the beat of his heart against hers.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“I can’t stand it. She was so annoying…” he buried his nose against her hair. “All she did was complain when all I did was nap on the bed.”

The thought of Leona sharing a bed with another woman made her heart ache. She wanted to erase the picture in her mind.

But she couldn’t do much now, can she? He was a married man now, but it wasn’t to her… no, it was to someone else.

However…

“Aren’t you gonna welcome me home?”

He will always return to her. Never touched and never kissed by anyone else but her.

She chuckles, looking up at him with pained eyes.

“It’s your wedding night, you know…? You could at least…”

“I told you, I ain’t touchin’ her.”

“You…you don’t have to…”

He places a hand under her chin and forces her to look at him before stroking her cheek.

“I don’t care,” he says with finality. “I don’t care about that stupid wedding. I don’t care about her. I don’t care about any of them.”

His forehead touches hers, a tear escapes her eye.

“I care about us.”

And he kisses her with more love than he could ever give. 

Another night passes, and Leona is once more entangled in Yuu’s arms.

[solxamber]

I Bet on Losing Dogs || Leona Kingscholar

You and Leona have spent years drifting in and out of each other’s lives, never brave enough to stay but never strong enough to end it.

When you finally stay gone too long, he comes to you—knowing he’s wasting your life, but unable to let you go when your trembling hands reach for him first.

It was always a rhythm, that strange, unspoken understanding between the two of you. You’d find him when life grew too loud, when the world outside felt too sharp. He never asked why you came back. He never asked why you left, either.

You’d stay until it got too heavy—until his cynicism started to sink into your ribs, until his quiet detachment started to sting, until the realization that he didn’t believe in anything long-term pressed too hard against your heart. Then you’d pack up and disappear again, licking your wounds in cities where no one knew his name.

And every time you came back, Leona acted like it didn’t matter. Like you’d just wandered in on a whim, and he’d merely tolerated it. But the truth always showed in the smallest details—in the way his tail flicked lazily when you entered the room, in the extra cup on his desk, in the fact that he’d start sleeping in your bed again.

You both knew what it was. It wasn’t peace. Nor was it stability. It was the ache of two people who didn’t know how to stay, but didn’t know how to stop returning either.

You’d both graduated a long time ago. The world had moved forward. Leona never did. He said he didn’t need to. He said life had nothing new to offer. You tried to believe him every time, tried to tell yourself that this—him, you, the quiet half-domestic limbo—was enough. But then the doubts came creeping in again, and you’d leave before they could rot you from the inside.

And he always let you. Always.

You hadn’t meant to stay gone for that long. A few weeks had turned into months. Your messages slowed, then stopped. You didn’t think he’d notice. You thought maybe he’d be relieved.

But he did notice.

He noticed when the evenings grew longer and the house started to sound empty. He noticed when he caught himself listening for footsteps that never came. He noticed when Ruggie asked casually, “They’re not back yet, huh?” and Leona nearly bit his head off.

He told himself he didn’t care. Told himself he was doing you a favor. You were young. You had a life waiting for you somewhere beyond his orbit. You deserved something better than being tethered to a man who only knew how to ruin good things.

But when the third month passed, he started waking up in the middle of the night with his hands clenched, chest tight, heart pounding like he’d forgotten how to breathe without you.

That’s when he knew.

He’d let you go too many times, and this time it had stuck.

So he went to find you.

The city was colder than he expected. It didn’t suit you—too cold, too little sunlight. But he found your building easily. You’d always picked quiet places, ones where you could pretend life was simple.

He stood at your door for a long time before knocking. Part of him hoped you wouldn’t answer. It would be easier that way—to walk away and pretend he’d tried.

But you did.

And the moment you opened the door, all the air went out of him.

You looked like you’d been surviving, not living. There were dark circles under your eyes, your hair pulled back in a way that spoke of exhaustion rather than style, and your voice was hoarse when you said his name.

“Leona…?”

He didn’t say anything but stared at you—at the way your hand trembled slightly on the doorknob, at how your lips twitched between surprise and something dangerously close to relief.

“I figured you forgot how to come back,” he said finally, his voice low and steady, though his throat burned.

You laughed, but it came out small. “Didn’t forget. Just didn’t know if I should.”

He huffed. “You think too much.”

“Someone has to,” you murmured.

Silence settled between you, heavy and full of everything unsaid. You stepped aside wordlessly, and he entered. The apartment was small, lived-in. Papers scattered across the table, a mug left out, a blanket on the couch that still smelled faintly of coffee and your shampoo.

He shouldn’t have come. He knew that. You deserved to get away from him—from the half-versions of promises, from the waiting, from the slow decay of something that couldn’t name itself. He was never going to give you what you wanted. He’d never learned how.

He opened his mouth to say something—to tell you that this wasn’t fair to you, that he should go—but then you turned, and your expression just broke him.

You looked so tired. So lost. And still, when you saw him, your eyes softened like they always did.

“Leona,” you whispered again, stepping closer, like saying his name might make the world steadier.

He should’ve told you to stop. Should’ve walked away right then. But when you reached out, fingers brushing his sleeve, his resolve crumbled.

The moment you hugged him, he felt it—your hands shaking slightly against his back, your breath uneven, the way your body pressed close like you were afraid he’d vanish if you let go.

He froze. Then, slowly, his arms came up around you.

It wasn’t tender or desperate like in the novels. It was something in between—a quiet surrender, the kind that felt dangerously close to regret.

He could feel your heartbeat against his chest, uneven and too fast. You were so small like this, fragile in a way that scared him. He could feel your exhaustion bleeding through every touch.

He wanted to say something cruel—something that would make you leave for good. Something that would hurt enough to set you free.

But when your grip faltered for a second and then tightened again, when your voice cracked as you whispered his name into his shoulder like a prayer, he knew he couldn’t.

He’d let you go before, but this time… he didn’t have it in him.

He buried his face in your hair and exhaled. “You’re a fool,” he murmured against your skin.

“So are you,” you said softly, and he felt your lips curve faintly against his collar.

He should let go. You should push him away. But neither of you move. You stay there, breathing in sync, knowing this isn’t love that heals. It’s love that lingers. The kind that eats away at what’s left, and still, somehow, feels worth the ruin.

And as he holds you tighter, knowing he’s stealing time you can’t afford to give, Leona closes his eyes and lets the truth settle in the quiet.

You’ll keep coming back.

He’ll keep pretending to let you go.

And somewhere between leaving and returning, you’ll both keep losing, together.

Masterlist

[thesunshinebunny]

Twisted wondeland characters reacting to these? Pls? 🙏🥺🫶💕

There’s also the first version of Inghygde (is that how you write it? Im probably wrong), but you dont have to do it if u dont want to <3

Okay. I know this is lingerie, and maybe it wasn't the reaction you wanted, I can do it again if that's what you want… but my mind immediately went to this idea when I saw the pictures.

Ok? oki doki, I hope you'll have a beatiful day

Summer had officially arrived at Night Raven College, bringing with it an almost unbearable heatwave. The school's grand, glittering pool—usually reserved for swimming classes and the occasional “special event”—was finally open for student use, and the excitement among the boys was palpable. After weeks of lectures, essays, and magical mishaps, the prospect of cooling off under the sun felt like a reward hard-earned.

There was, however, one small complication: you were the only girl at a school full of eccentric, competitive, and sometimes overly dramatic boys. And, of course, nothing at Night Raven was ever simple—not even buying a swimsuit.

The school didn’t provide swimwear for girls (obviously), so you had to find something on your own. After a bit of searching—and a lot of internal groaning—you ended up at S’s Mystery Shop, which claimed to have “everything you could ever need... and things you didn’t even know you wanted.” Sam, always one for dramatic flair, pulled out a collection of swimsuits that matched the dorms’ unique styles. You weren’t sure if he was messing with you or if this was some bizarre, otherworldly merchandise exclusive to twisted magical schools.

You picked one, equal parts cute and scandalously bold, and prepared to face the pool… and the reactions of your dorm leader.

Riddle

Good thing the pool finally opened—because the heat was starting to get unbearable, even for Riddle.

Wearing the school-issued swimsuit and a light open shirt, he stepped into the water—deep enough to relax, but not enough to lose his composure.

The cold water was perfect against his sun-warmed skin… until it wasn’t.

The moment he saw you walking confidently toward the pool, his face turned even redder than his hair—if that was even possible, at least three shades darker.

The swimsuit hugged your skin and body perfectly, as if it had been made just for you… and that alone made his mind short-circuit.

“You look… incredible.”

Respect first, always. But inside his head, a thousand improper thoughts clashed and tangled, no matter how hard he tried to suppress them—they kept surfacing.

All the time you spent in the water—swimming, doing slow strokes, or simply floating—Riddle struggled to maintain his composure.

It was hard. Very hard.

Every now and then, his eyes wandered back to you, watching how the colors of his dorm’s uniform accentuated your skin tone, how every detail soaked and clung even closer to your body.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together

Anyone passing by Riddle could feel that the water around him was warmer than it should’ve been.

That day at the pool didn’t help cool down the summer heat at all… it only opened the door to another kind of heat—one he planned to take care of later that night, when he finally had you in his arms.

Leona

Darling… I hope you’re ready to have a lion as your personal bodyguard all day, 'cause Leona isn’t going to let ANYONE get near you—hell, he won’t even let them look at you.

It’s one thing for him to wander around his dorm shirtless, or to have you half-naked in the comfort of his room—that exquisite view reserved for his eyes only.

But seeing you in that pathetic excuse for a swimsuit, in the water, with half the school devouring you with their eyes?

Nope… absolutely not.

The second you stepped out of the changing room, Leona was already pulling his dorm shirt over your head and guiding you toward a bench, away from the vultures’ gaze.

“You trying to make me jealous, or you just want to start something in front of everyone?”

Beneath that mask of possessiveness and protectiveness, Leona was still devouring you with his eyes—counting the hours until he could make you his again in the privacy of his room.

It took A LOT to convince him to let you into the water, but after a few kisses and some persuasive words, Leona finally gave in.

He joined you in the pool, wrapping an arm around you, sometimes playing with your bikini strap, snapping it lightly against your shoulder.

Watching the water cling to your body, the droplets sliding down your sun-warmed skin and disappearing between the valley of your breasts… Leona was about to lose it.

The swimsuit was gorgeous—he won’t deny that. Deep down, he’d love for you to model it again, but only for him, behind closed doors.

The colors of Savanaclaw look far too good on you.

Azul

The water is his natural element, which is why this day was more than relaxing for him—and being able to share it with his beloved was bound to be deeply satisfying.

But… yikes. For someone used to seeing all kinds of half-naked bodies under the sea, all sorts of creatures surrounded by shimmering currents… he absolutely did not expect to see you wearing that.

The seashell-shaped top, the subtle scale-like patterns over your legs and arms… yeah, we lost Azul.

Someone call Floyd and Jade—emergency situation, octopus down.

Azul adjusted his glasses, mostly to keep his hands busy, because otherwise he wasn’t sure what they might do.

When you swam closer to him, the poor guy nearly turned to ink.

He was completely red—honestly, he could give Riddle a run for his money.

“That looks… exquisite.”

For a moment, he just gawked. The elegance and ethereal shimmer of your swimsuit highlighted every one of your charms, making you look like a mermaid about to steal his heart.

He tried to keep up his confident businessman façade, but it was painfully obvious he was devouring you with his eyes—the glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, a blush creeping high across his cheeks.

He couldn’t stop imagining you dancing among bubbles and pearls, like something out of the dreams he used to have about the Lounge.

Every time you moved in the water, the fabric clinging to your skin, sunlight tracing every curve, Azul thought he might need an ice bucket—or maybe the entire pool filled with ice.

He offered, more than once, for you to sit beside him at the pool’s edge—always using the excuse to tuck your damp hair gently behind your ear.

All day long, Azul battled between temptation and composure. That swimsuit was a double-edged sword: it showcased your beauty… and his utter weakness for you.

The image of you in that swimsuit was going to haunt him long after summer was over.

Kalim

Ever since the pool opened, Kalim hadn’t missed a single chance to invite you—nor to organize a “small” pool party for the entire dorm!

He was the first to arrive, splashing everyone around, wearing a red and gold swimsuit with exotic patterns, a light open tunic, and huge sunglasses.

But the moment you stepped out of the changing room wearing the Scarabia swimsuit—those golden and earthy tones, the dangling charms, the coin details, and the way the tied knots highlighted your figure—Kalim nearly forgot how to float.

He just stared at you, eyes sparkling, a huge grin lighting up his face, completely mesmerized.

This time, though, it wasn’t just innocent admiration; for a heartbeat, his pupils dilated, and that grin turned undeniably mischievous.

“You… you look so beautiful!! I mean, you always do, but… wow. I think you just made it hotter out here!”

He tried to play it off, spinning you around by the hand and laughing, but the slight tremor in his voice gave him away. He couldn’t stop looking at you—the color of your swimsuit made you look like a desert goddess bathed in sunlight.

Every time you came near, his gaze lingered—soft, but hungry in the most genuine way, the kind of yearning reserved only for someone deeply adored.

He made sure you were comfortable, offering cold drinks, fresh fruit, and all the fun in the world, ready to grant your every whim that day.

The stares from others didn’t go unnoticed; Kalim grew just a bit more possessive, slipping an arm around your waist in the water, his fingers occasionally toying with the edge of your swimsuit, brushing your wet skin without even realizing it.

Amid all the laughter and splashing, there were quiet moments when Kalim got lost—watching you with that mix of innocence and restrained desire, lips parted, throat tight, leaning in just a little closer as if the whole world had vanished.

He dared to whisper, just for you: “If we were alone right now… I think I’d have a hard time keeping my hands off you.”

For the first time, you truly felt the heat of Scarabia in full force—Kalim, vulnerable and burning with longing, heart pounding wildly, waiting for the night to fall so he could have you all to himself.

Vil

The pool event was inevitable—but Vil, of course, turned it into an impromptu runway: violet sunglasses, a light silk robe draped over the perfect swimsuit, flawless skin gleaming under the sunlight, as if he were shooting a commercial.

When you stepped out of the locker room wearing the Pomefiore swimsuit—an elegant cut, subtle purple accents, sheer details, and that ethereal aura that seemed made for you—Vil went utterly silent for a full second.

His eyes trailed over you from head to toe, admiring the way the fabric fell, how it fit against your skin, the delicate shimmer that made you look almost unreal.

You caught the faint twitch of his lower lip, the way his fingers tightened slightly around the glass of whatever drink he was holding.

“You do realize,” he said softly, voice low and meant for your ears alone, “that you look… dangerously exquisite, right?”

Outwardly, he kept his composure—poised, regal, every inch the perfect model.

But up close, his gaze told another story: intense, deep, tracing you as if trying to memorize every inch of skin glowing under the sun.

In the water, swimming beside you, Vil couldn’t help brushing his fingers lightly against you whenever you passed too close, admiring how the swimsuit seemed designed to highlight everything that drove him wild about you.

During breaks, he shared his towel with you, and if he saw you shiver from the breeze, he’d wrap his arms around you—using the excuse of protecting your flawless skin from the cold, when in truth he just wanted you closer.

Every so often, he’d lean in to whisper, “Darling, if you keep looking at me like that, I might have to teach you the true meaning of heatstroke…”

For all the elegance and glamour, there was something undeniably carnal in the way he looked at you that day. Vil was fire beneath ice—and you were the spark threatening to melt him.

Idia

Idia had planned to spend the afternoon in his dorm, gaming in peace, but Ortho literally dragged him to the pool with the promise that the Wi-Fi was faster outside and fewer people were connected.

He dressed simply, in pure Idia fashion: dark blue shorts, an old T-shirt from his favorite anime, and of course, headphones hanging around his neck—his emotional support armor.

He stayed near the shadows, sitting on a distant bench, trying to blend into the background…

Until he saw you step out of the locker room wearing that swimsuit straight out of the underworld.

The electric blue, the “tech” detailing, and the way the cut hugged your figure made the flames of his hair flicker from pale blue to a shy orange in an instant.

Wh—?! That’s… illegal! Illegal levels of beauty detected!

Idia completely froze, eyes wide, torn between hiding further or staring longer.

He tried to disguise his blush by sinking lower into the shades, but every time you lifted your head or smiled in his direction, his hair sparked brighter and pinker and his face burned hotter.

Internally, he was spiraling.

This can’t be real… she can’t be this close… should I say something? Is she looking at me? Am I floating or unconscious?!

Ortho, being Ortho, gave him a helpful shove—sending him right next to you. Idia barely managed a stuttering, “You look… um… really… wow… like a cyber siren or something…!”

Every time you moved through the water, Idia tried to look away, but he never lasted more than five seconds before sneaking another glance.

He offered you his towel, mumbling that “it probably dries better—it’s Ignihyde tech,” but really, it was just an excuse to be near you, to see you smile at him.

Inside his head, the loop was endless: Best. Pool. Day. Ever. Too much. System overheating. Need to reboot…

Malleus

For Malleus, the pool was almost a fascination: water contained and gleaming, surrounded by laughter and human magic—so unlike the gothic stillness of Briar Valley.

He rarely joined social activities, but that day, intrigued by this “summer ritual” of humans—and more importantly, by your excitement—he decided to take part, allowing himself to be led by your invitation.

He didn’t quite understand swimsuit conventions, so he asked beforehand if he should bring his cloak.

“No, Malleus. Please don’t bring the cloak.”

When he saw you emerge wearing the Diasomnia-inspired swimsuit—deep black, streaked with electric green, with cutouts that hinted at scales and wings—Malleus watched you, though not with the mundane awe of the others.

His eyes, usually calm and ancient, lingered on the edges of the swimsuit, on how the fabric suggested wings and scales, on the way the sunlight caressed the curve of your neck, the strength of your legs, the elegance of your silhouette.

For a moment, he forgot his surroundings entirely: the noise of others faded to a distant hum, and there was only the contrast of black and green against your skin.

You approached, and Malleus inclined his head slightly, as if greeting an equal.

“Such a garment… it suits you. There is power in it. You look as if you could command storms—or perhaps, hearts.”

He asked whether humans commonly wore such revealing garments for swimming, though from his tone it was clear that he not only approved, but found it utterly captivating.

Rather than joining the others, Malleus invited you to sit with him—to watch how the light played on the water’s surface, to speak of the differences between human and fae summer rites, to conjure tiny water dragons to amuse you.

He marveled beside you when sunlight struck the pool just right, making the edges of your swimsuit shimmer like real scales.

It wasn’t a day of games or competition—with Malleus, it was something closer to a shared spell: exchanged glances, soft laughter, ancient words folded into the rhythm of the mundane.

When the afternoon breeze lifted your hair, he smiled faintly, fangs catching the light, and tucked a strand behind your ear.

He didn’t proclaim it aloud, but the truth burned in his gaze and the faint curve of his lips: the fire of Malleus Draconia was yours—and that swimsuit would remain etched in his memory for a very, very long time.

[nyankochan]

Day 10 ♥︎ Breeding

twst -- ft. malleus, leona

kinktober 2025 -- master list

content --afab!reader, husband!malleus, fiancé!leona, unprotected sex, rough sex, size kink, breeding kink, mating press (malleus)

♥︎ — malleus draconia

As the king of Briar Valley, of course Malleus would need to produce a strong, suitable heir to take over his throne. And he loved the idea of having kids with you one day. But it wasn’t the thought of your stomach being round and full with his child that spurred him with desire.

His draconic instincts screamed at him to claim you. It was a stake of possession. To mark and fill you up to prove that you were his.

The weight of Malleus’s body pressed you into the mattress as he pumps his cock in and out of your cunt. His hips almost frantically rut against yours, trying to drag his weepy cock as deep as he could through your plush walls. The thickness of his length and the blunt tip of his cock head worked in tandem to have you seeing stars as he stretched you out in all the best ways.

“Are you close, beloved?” Malleus’s voice is breathless in your ear, thick with lust. “I can feel you tightening around me.”

It wasn’t often you could see the fae’s composure wane. He was always the epitome of elegance and royalty, but how that polished appearance diminished when inside you. The strands of his dark hair, disheveled from their usual slicked back style, clung messily to his face with sweat. A dark flush colored his cheeks as the crescendoing waves of his own desire reached their peak.

Malleus groans your name. He squeezed your hips, driving himself deep as he cums thick ropes into your womb. The intensity rocks his body. His hips stutter forward, Malleus having to grab the headboard to steady his balance and catch his breath. But his cock still throbs and his balls ache, not satiated by merely filling you up once.

“Are you doing alright, beloved?” Malleus asks. He kisses your lips gently, hands roaming across your body to soothe where he may have been too rough.

“I’m okay,” you mumble, running your fingers across the cool scaling on his forehead, which makes Malleus seem to purr contently. “F-feel full.”

Malleus kisses you again before rising to slowly ease himself out of you when he freezes.

His cum oozes out of your pussy, trickling around your puffy folds. Just how wasteful it was for the white globs to stain the sheets instead of remaining sated within you. But, the sight of his release leaking out you, his wife and mate, snaps what ever restraint that had been tethering him to sanity.

“Forgive me…” Malleus’s apology is the only warning you get before you’re folded in half and his cock is splitting you back open. You cry out, tears prickling your eyelashes as he pushes your legs further against your chest.

“M-mal?”

“You have no idea what you’ve done to me,” Malleus says shakily, trying to steel himself as to not hurt you. But his body betrays him, acting on instinct as his hips drive forward. You husband’s eyes dilate, unfocused and dragon-like. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve pumped you so full of me that I’m positive it sticks.”

♥︎ — leona kingscholar

Leona honestly hates the idea of having kids. After having to deal with his nephew, the last thing he wants is his own little brats running around. However, you both are young, only betrothed, set to be married in a few years, and therefore have all the time in the world to think about starting a family later down the line.

Nonetheless, Leona would be lying if he said that seeing you dripping with his cum didn’t get him the least bit excited. Even if it came with unwanted risks attached.

“Fuck—“ Leona groans, head lulling back as you sink down on to his cock. He could feel the way you were so wet for him, the slick, erotic sound of him pushing through your quivering walls had the slightest shivers racing down his spine, threatening to break his composure.

You always felt heavenly around him but perhaps he was more sensitive than usual or it was just his desire burning through his body, but the way your pussy hugged around him so nicely made Leona think he would blow his load sooner than he’d like.

“This damn cunt’s gonna be the death of me, squeezing me so tight like this,” Leona groans. He gropes your ass, rocking you forward slightly. “It’s like she’s just begging for me to fill her up.”

“Fuck Leona, please do,” you whimper, making the lion freeze. His skin prickled in response to your words, but your neediness didn’t stop. You pressed kisses against his jaw, batting those sinful eyelashes at him. “Need you so bad.”

His green eyes darken.

You barely have time to register what happened before Leona has you flipped on to your stomach, your face shoved into the pillows. The stretch of his cock feels even deeper when he re-enters you, which you have little time to adjust to before Leona sets a brutal pace that has you keening against him. His much larger frame pins you helplessly to the mattress, like a predator trapping its prey. Tears cling to your eyelashes as each punishing stroke kisses against your cervix, stringing you along until the pressure of your release winds so tightly that it snaps.

“Shit—” Leona groans as you gush around him, your release messily coating his cock which he uses to fuck into you. His chest constricts, teetering on the edge of his own orgasm as his cock throbs. Leona’s arms cage around you as he ruts into you harder, spurred by your moans. His teeth sink into your shoulder as a low growl resounds in the back of his throat, and warmth fills your stomach.

You shiver as Leona’s rough tongue drags across your skin, cleaning the blood he unintentionally meant to draw. He pulls out of your overstimulated cunt slowly, watching rather smugly as his release trickles out. But then, he stiffens in surprise, ears twitching dangerously, as you reach in between your legs and try to push his cum back into yourself.

“Fucking hell—you—“ Leona turns you on to your back. His eyes narrow which you return with a cheeky smile. “You’re nothing but trouble, you know that? But if you want to tempt me, then fine. I’ll play your little game.” You whimper as the head of his cock prods at your puffy entrance. Leona grits his teeth, gripping your hips tightly. “But be prepared. I’m not going to go easy on you.”

[obeymeluv]

The Herbivore and The Lion

This was going to be a few blurbs about Leona and the reader but I think this one can stand alone until I get the other moments done. Have this for now.

When Leona first saw you, he didn't think he was wrong calling you a 'Herbivore'. You don't have claws, very few of your teeth are meant for tearing, you're strictly bipedal, and the only thing you'd be able to successfully hunt is a carrot out of the school garden. If the local fae weren't so proud of the garden, the worms and slugs would tremble before you!

He can't help but hum and laugh at the thought of you looming over said creatures, shooing them away from the food.

Yes, you're very terrifying!

He tells himself that he keeps an eye on you because a smart predator is wise to keep an eye on easy prey but that's not totally true. His stomach twists with the cold knowing that he's lying to himself. The truth gnaws on him like Cheka trying to lose his baby teeth and it makes him scoff.

Too bad that scoff can't loosen up the words lodged in his throat. I'd rather choke and die, he rolls his eyes, fingers tangling in his wild hair as he takes a walk to clear his head. It's not hot and sunny like the Sunset Savanna but the crisp green of nature is relaxing all the same. A lot of the weeds are actually edible and have a tart, lemony scent to them. The soil is rich and earthy, perfect for the native mushrooms, fruit bushes, and apple trees scattered around campus.

Another scent piques his interest, something that is neither flora nor fauna, and his lazy stroll turns into a curious hunt. It's warm with a sweet undertone and for a minute he thinks he's picked up on Ruggie after a donut run. He's gone from the courtyard to Sam's and the Ruggie theory seems likely until he realizes there's no hint of musk or sagebrush from the cologne he likes to wear. The scent is almost swallowed by wood and salt but he tracks it to the gates of Ramshackle.

He lets himself in since there's no magical protections and it's just a crappy wrought iron gate.

The yard was recently weeded and cut, piles of branches heaped together here and there. He vaguely recalls Ruggie mentioning the two of you were going to sell the random stuff that'd been dumped and split the profit. Drag marks catch his eye; they're clean lines with a bit of depth to them so you're hauling something heavy or awkward.

Or both.

As he begins to narrow down what you could be dragging, a distant clatter makes his ears twitch. His summer green eyes narrow as he searches for you, wincing against the sunlight. You're a tiny dot on the roof and Leona purses his lips as the overwhelming dread starts to rot his guts. He trudges across the lawn, shaking his head as you fail to see him coming.

Silly herbivore. That's how herbivores get taken down, you know? No sense of awareness. Bad self-preservation instincts.

Up close he can see what you're doing. You're nailing boards over a weak spot in the roof. A poor fix, but better than nothing. He makes a mental note to grab some of his more nocturnal dormmates and fix it properly. Several noises blend together--a gasp, a scrape, rolling and thudding--and suddenly you're dangling overhead.

The scent of iron hits his nose. Blood begins to bead from a cut on your leg. You don't notice, too busy fighting for your grip on the gutter. It gives way and Leona doesn't think, just catches.

He'll blame it on the alluring pulse of pain signaling you as wounded. It beckons him as both man and beast. You're the epitome of startled and you look very owlish and adorable.

Your eyes are actually quite pretty. He's never paid much attention until now. It's rare he gets to look at you at all since you're always running off with the stupid freshman or fixing something for Crowley.

You're a very elusive herbivore.

You relax in his arms and it surprises him. It's been so long since anyone was comfortable enough to be vulnerable with him that he forgot what it felt like. It doesn't help that he pushes people away, he knows that, but it also doesn't help that most people only want to hang around him to get laid or get paid.

"Where--? How--?" you stutter at him, squirming and trying to stand on your own. Leona continues to hold you, unfazed. He shoulders the front door open and sits you on the couch, telling you not to move.

His ears point flat in annoyance as raids the kitchen for some semblance of a first aid kit. You're trying to stand; he can hear the awkward shift as you try to put your full weight down and fail. Your wince is sharp and unmistakable, like how the couch protests as you flop back onto it.

"I was just trying to figure out what I was smellin', that's all." his boots are heavy on the wood floor as he comes back in with disinfectant spray and a couple of bandages. He says that but won't look you in the face. Leona's suddenly very interested in your leg and has no issue propping it up on his thigh.

You didn't even realize that he'd knelt in front of you.

His arms are hard but his skin is surprisingly soft. He smells like cedar and sandalwood but his hair has an ambery-orange tang to it. Probably some kind of hair oil you'd never be able to afford. You yelp as the spray tingles in the open wound, jerking your leg and flailing.

It's the first time you've used any type of medicine in Twisted Wonderland and the shit hurts! Like you're not going to have to worry about the wound getting infected because your leg is going to FALL OFF kind of hurt.

Leona growls at you, teeth bared and nose wrinkled as he grips your knee hard. You hiss back at him because that's the best your brain can do since you can't run. He pauses, face smoothing out in bewilderment before his head rolls back with a loud, disbelieving laugh.

He laughs so much his sides begin to hurt. Honestly, he hasn't laughed this hard since Cheka sneezed himself off Leona's bed mid-jump hours before a banquet. It's not to the point of tears pricking his eyes but his cheeks definitely hurt.

You glare at him. You'll never be a predator with those cheeks and pouty lips. "Why did you really come here?" you cross your arms as he readjusts your leg and puts the bandage on it.

Do I have to have a reason? Other people help you out all the time, Leona's brow twitches. Maybe I like you. Who cares, right?

"I'd never hear the end of it from Ruggie and Jack if I let their little packmate get hurt." Leona shrugs as he stands, brushing off his pants. "That's not being a very good Housewarden, is it?" Oh maybe he should've said something smarter about Housewardens helping each other. You'd buy the Ruggie thing but you both know Jack considers himself a 'lone wolf' even though he absently groups up with people all the time.

You're not totally buying it and he hates that you can see through him. Your eyes pick at him like claws in an open wound, trying to dig out the meat and get to the center. "What? You want me to be honest? You can find trouble with your eyes closed so someone has to watch you."

You've relaxed now. You don't even bother trying to deny that trouble follows you like a shadow. That 'I'm caught, I have no defense' smile twists your lips like when you get called to answer a question you're going to bluff your way through and Leona snorts, smiling smugly.

"So why you?" you ask him, staring up at him.

Leona pauses. Because I could actually be a provider? Because I'm competent? his lips pucker and relax as he clucks his tongue. "Cephalopunk and his lackeys can't do it, they're too worried about drinking water so they don't dry out! And that Draconia idiot is as forgetful as he is arrogant! Seriously, do you know how many meetings that guy's missed?"

"That makes you the only one left, huh?"

"You know, they said there's smart herbivores and now I believe it." Leona laughs, heading for the door. He doesn't miss the sour little noise you make. "Try not to get into trouble until tomorrow, huh?" Leona stands in the doorway, tail swishing, before he pulls it closed behind him.

Maybe there is some codependence in there, he thinks to himself as he walks. Growing up Neji always taught him that relationships between herbivores and carnivores weren't so straightforward. It wasn't just about hunting and feeding; some herbivores and carnivores had mutualistic relationships.

Maybe that's what you would be by the end of it. You would be his herbivore and he would be your lion. The herbivore and the lion, he mused as he kicked a rock loose while he walked, sounds like a dumb story meant to entertain kids.

Maybe he'd tell Cheka about it the next time he visited.

[angxlblxxd]

ONE BED ONLY || twst! housewardens.

-> Of course Crowley decided to take the easy, cheap, way out when booking hotel rooms for your school trip. Unfortunately, leaving you without a bedroom. Now you're stuck with a scary dormleader. With only one bed for the both of you.... let's hope this doesn't end in disaster.

gn reader !! this is a revamp of my old fic from 2023, slightly edited with more content!! ive recently gotten back into twst and writing again and wanted to create new / update my old fics, starting with this one. hope you enjoy and ty for reading!!

#. RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS.

At first, Riddle is outraged by Crowley’s frugality. He berates the headmaster for treating you like a machine, not even giving you a place to sleep. He's quick to offer you his bed and offers to sleep on the floor instead. It's the gentlemanly thing to do. He likely wouldn't budge on the matter, insisting you get as much rest as possible.

Yet, in the back of his mind he can't help but think of how enjoyable it would be to lay beside you. He wonders how it would feel to bask in your warmth, hugging you as close as humanly possible- ahem. He's flushed at just the thought.

Alright. He'll agree. But only if you follow some of his rules. You must use separate blankets whilst you sleep and must sleep facing opposite sides- mainly because he doesn't want you to see the reddening of his cheeks. Not a word will be spoken between you two- as he doesn't want you to hear the nervous cracking of his voice- and, of course, you must come to his next unbirthday as repayment! Both you and him must abide by these rules, or else its off with your head. And maybe even his if his face doesnt cease its flushing.

However, in the dead of the night, where silence and chill slowly seep in through the cracks, you might catch Riddle shuffling closer to you for warmth. Arms wrapped around your waist as he digs his head into your chest, feeling your arms wrap around his form, your loving warmth envelopes him completely. You'd best hope that he doesn't wake up like this though, for the collar around your neck won't be the only thing red.

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#. LEONA KINGSCHOLAR.

Leona, of course, was annoyed with the arrangement, muttering something about simply paying for another hotel room- or perhaps even the entire floor. However to his extraordinary luck, none were available. Great. Well whatever, it wasn't like you two hadn't shared a room before.

He would most definitely make you sleep on the floor, and probably wouldn't even give you a blanket. The lion would roll his eyes and tell you to deal with it on your own. But let's say he's grown a softspot for you... and the way that pretty little nighty fell over your shoulders. He'd beckon you over to his laying form, pulling you onto the bed opposite from him. You'd be tucked in, back to his chest, feeling his eyes staring intently into your form. However, whenever you snuck a peek back at him his piercing eyes were shut closed, seeming as if he was sleeping soundly. It’s like sleeping with a predator, much more different from the naps he’d take in the botanical gardens.

As your body finally succumbs to sleep you may feel Leona shift closer to you, pulling you into him. His arms are snug against your waist, head against your shoulder, hair sprawled against you. A sigh left his lips as he pressed small kisses into your neck. His tail would be wrapped loosely around your thigh, legs entangled with yours. It was like he was trying to mold every body part to yours. And when you snuggled back into him, the lion couldn’t help but chuckle, he knew he chose the right one. It was some of the best sleep either of you had ever gotten.

Oh, and he's not letting you go the next morning.

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#. AZUL ASHENGROTTO.

The concept of sharing, plus Azul Ashengrotto, is practically unimaginable. Sharing anything with him, let alone a bedroom, would most definitely end in your sanity cracking. He would come up with a plethora of ideas, all no doubtly ending in you making some sort of deal with him. Such as potentially giving you half the room if you take a couple shifts at the lounge. If you disagree he'll let you sleep on the floor... only to lie awake the whole night because, 'how could he ever let you of all people sleep on the floor.' If you agree, however, he will undoubtedly become a flushed mess, trying to stay calm and dignified as he utters his terms with a completely red face. He was absolutely sure you were going to disagree!!

Either way it'll end up with you sleeping besides him. Either due to his own guilt or a badly written contract.

Azul sleeps like a brick. His arms are by his sides or resting on his chest, legs straight and still. He doesn't move whatsoever, it doesn't look like he's even breathing. His face is unmoving and calm, like he has nothing to worry about. However if you look closely you can see the faint twitch of his eyes, and the slight reddening of his pretty cheeks. Its amazing how a man who tries to present himself as classy gets flustered so easily.

Late into the night he finally begins to loosen up, turning onto his side to face you. His hand intertwines with yours, pressing your foreheads together in a sleepy spell. Your breaths mix with one another, adding a feeling of warmth that contrasts his cold body. His legs entangle with your own, acting as his tentacles that he so desperately wants to hold you with. He can't help but smile within his dreams. Hmm... he might have to make a deal with you to do this again sometime.

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#. KALIM AL- ASIM.

Kalim doesn't complain when Crowley tells the two of you to room together. He even offers his bed to you with no hesitation whatsoever. He could probably buy the entire hotel for you if you had just asked. A bright smile is on his face as he takes your hand in his, dragging you up to his room. Out of all the boys hes the one most used to sleeping with other people. His parents were always so busy, that his younger siblings came to him, their older brother, to get comfort at night. This ritual of always sleeping together suddenly stopped when he came to NRC, and it took him a while to finally be able to sleep alone. That's likely why he always asks to have sleepovers with you.

It would take a while to actually fall asleep with him next to you though, as the two of you would be too busy goofing off instead of actually sleeping. He'd make the two of you watch musicals late into the night, singing loud enough to be heard by the underworld. You would have pillow fights, toppling over one another in a fit of giggles.

When the two of you finally get too tired to continue Kalim climbs into bed facing you, his smile never once leaving his lips. He faces you as he lies there, his hand cupping yours in a comforting manner. He would entangle his legs with your own, sometimes playfully kicking yours when you would accidentally tickle him within your pile of blankets and pillows.

As exhaustion begins to settle in Kalim shifts closer to you. He hugs you in his sleep, both arms wrapped around your waist as he pulls you into his chest. His head rests atop yours, smile never once leaving his face as he cuddles you even closer. The blankets are kicked off as one of his legs wrap around your hips, the other hanging off the bed. Its a mix of holding you like a koala and a monkey. If even possible, his smile grows tenfold, not being able to help the dreams of doing this over and over again with you.

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#. VIL SCHOENHEIT.

Vil is probably the most irritated with Crowleys negligence. Because of the headmasters bare-bones way of thinking he is stuck with you in his room. However, he begrudgingly agrees, quick to tell you that there will be no horsing aorund when you both need as much sleep as you can possibly get. Yet, he's not too upset with the arrangement, he'd rather it be you he's stuck with than some other loudmouthed potato.

He sits you down at the nightstand when arriving in the room, taking out skin-care products to begin prepping your face. If you're going to be staying in his room you must follow his word, including his skin care routine. There's a hint of irritation in his eyes, still a bit peeved by the situation. What if his fans get a hold of this? What kind of scandal would occur? However, as the night goes on you can see the stress leave his gorgeous eyes. As the two of you sip on tea, enjoying quiet laughs and soft smiles, Vil begins to relax.

When finally getting to bed the two of you lay on your backs, Vil having his hands crossed over his chest with his eyes closed like a sleeping princess. He's tucked into his blankets carefully, legs straight and poised. Of course he had perfect posture even in bed- it only made sense. No words would be exchanged between the two of you. Its almost ungodly how beautiful he looks asleep.

Vil doesn't move much in his sleep, but he definitely sleeps elegantly. Even while you cuddle into his side, a hand resting on his chest with a leg thrown over his own- sleeping like the potato you are- he still stays regal. One of his hands holds yours, intertwining your fingers while the other pulls you in by the waist. He moves your head to rest on his chest, moving the hand that was on yours to comb through your messy hair. He sighs to himself, but it's not one of annoyance.

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#. IDIA SHROUD.

Idia is probably the quickest to shut down Crowleys suggestion of the two of you sharing a room. He didn't even want to be in this hotel anyway, being surrounded by other students from Night Raven was absolutely terrifying in itself. And sharing a room with you would be petrifiying. Ortho is way too fast to interfere, though, seeing a golden opportunity to have you and his brother have your very own romance route moment- he wasn't about to let it pass!

Idia is flabbergasted. He planned on letting you keep the room to yourself- close to renting a whole ass hotel for himself. He much rather preferred being ten thousand miles away, watching you from afar then actually interacting with you. Plus his brother's excitement to the whole situation was a bit too overwhelming to handle. However, seeing that guilty look on your face as you asked him to stay made his heart race in ways he had never experienced. Sevens... he felt like he was about to melt into his own hair. What the fuck did he just agree to.

He would be pressed to the corner of the room, trying to distract himself with his tablet. He steals glances at you, tapping away nervously as the tips of his hair begins to flush a pale pink. He's clearly freaking out internally, a million scenarios running through his head like a hamster on a wheel. What if he somehow messed up by tripping over your suitcase and landing on his head, embarrassing himself forever? Or, what if while tripping, all your clothes come tumbling out of your bag and he sees something he shouldn't?! Its shocking just how pink he can get.

When it comes time to sleep he's as still as a brick, eyes wide and trying his hardest to not move. The two of you would be back to back, sometimes brushing up against one another when shuffling around for comfort. Whenever this would happen he would curl up into a ball, pressing his hands to his face as he apologized profusely. And when he would hear your laugh- telling him not to worry about it- he couldn't help but flush more. God this was way too much to handle!!

Idia could not fall asleep the whole night. And it definitely wasn't because you were pressed up against him. Nor was it because you were hugging him like he was a stuffed animal. And it for sure wasn't because he could feel your breath at the back of his neck, sending cold shivers down the hot mess he was becoming. He just hoped Ortho was actually charging and not giggling silly at his ship finally coming true.

Not that he'd mind if it did.

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#. MALLEUS DRACONIA.

Malleus is actually the most accepting of the arrangement. It's Sebek who has a massive problem with the situation, however Malleus is quick to ease his worries. He has always wanted a sleepover with someone, and who better than you, prefect?

As soon as you enter the room Malleus is all over you. He fusses over every little detail, trying to make sure everything is comfortable and in a good enough condition to suit your needs. But in the least subtle way possible. Is the room too hot? Perhaps too cold? How are the pillows? Do you need more? Are they too stiff- or too fluffy? Or maybe you need some more blankets? Perhaps he should get some more just in case.... He knows he is being overbearing but how could he help it? He had to make sure everything was just absolutely perfect for his child of man.

It takes a while, but once you finally get Malleus to settle down he flops down into a comfortable position on the bed. Right on top of you. His head lays on your stomach, horns near your chest. One of his hands supports his head, feeling how your heart beats while the other holds you in place by the hip, gently rubbing circles into it. His claws lightly dig into your skin, feeling your heartbeat increase as he gets closer. Its ever so enticing to just sink his claws into you to see how you'd react. His legs trap yours in place, wrapping around them like a dragons tail would. He can't help but sigh in content, looking up to your flushed face with a sly smirk on his face. Oh how he would love to cuddle you for eternity. Your forced to sleep like this the whole night. And the next... and the next.

You shouldn't have ever agreed to sleeping with him- as this is how you would spend the rest of your nights. Trapped in his ever-loving embrace.

[th0rn-pr1nc3]

Fun fact: male lions will often just follow the females they like around Cue Leona being his usual grumpy lazy ass sleepy self, except the second he hears your voice he imediatly wakes up and instinctively tries to get up to follow you around. This is the moment he actually realizes that he likes you and is cursing at himself for being unable to stop his insincts as he needs to actively stop himself so he doesn't look like some love sick fool (which he totally is)

WAIT WHAT?? FR?

As a Leona simp I am, I approve of this.

I am guessing ya also want notes! (Like the ones I so far have requests on and been doing so far!)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

It's not that I like you.ᐟ.ᐟ

Starring: Leona Kingscholar

Their Female/Genderfluid S/O (Meaning: She/Her/They/Them fyi. I AM SORRY, LADS...I could make yall a lads only for Leo, Lads, TRUST- JUST ASK-- T^T)

Scenario: Romantic - Leona's headcanons for slowly realizing he likes Y/N and dealing with both: his instincts and feelings...NO, he does NOT like you!!!

Keep reading?

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Ok, so, we all agree this second born prince is the laziest, prideful, arrogant beastman ever existed. He always takes naps to avoid responsibility yet always gets awake when it comes to his own interests.

So, imagine him actually getting up RIGHT after he hears your voice?

Oh boy, he did NOT notice that before. Even though he's always attentive and perspective with certain things, he has NEVER noticed this certain change in him before. Like it's like out of his own instincts, he just gets up and starts to find you with a lazy yawn. Almost like his brain just sets that schedule up already..

I mean, he's going to take a nap..then- Wait, he hears your voice and he already be opening his eyes like he did not just wanna sleep then proceeds to get up and follow your voice with one of his lion ears flicking to catch the slightness voice of yours

BUT when he gets asked by Ruggie's teases, that's when he tenses out of his sleepiness, his eyes grew wide and lips pursed with a still tail. Oh shit is what literally comes to his mind as he shook it off and denies the teases of Ruggie's (even though Ruggie KNOWSSS bro's denying but lets it slide)

He was a bit self aware by that now- Yet...HIS INSTINCTS KEPT NUDGING HIM AND FORCING HIM TO ACT UP BEFORE HE COULD THINK ABOUT IT..He doesn't know why his instincts keep trying to make him do that but I guess blame it on his species! (What the lions do tho :c)

However...he can't seem to stop. Literally he tried to ignore your voice and tried to take a nap but nope! You keep "waking him up." Hell, it will fully wake him up when he hears another voice with you- (+Extra: And he proceeds to loom over there like a VERY grumpy lion and side eyes the person you are talking with)

With that, it gets him even MOREE grumpier than before...always grumbling, muttering, or even cursing underneath his breath if you were around. Not that he was mad at you, more like mad at himself...Why would he let his primal instincts get a hold of him around you!?

Ofc, he was never used to these weird feelings and strange sudden instincts in him...So, at first, he thought you were a prey. A weak herbivore just begging to be caught in a predator's jaw (OoOooO, Scary-/jkjk)

Although...After a few (not really) months, He was finalllyyyyy confronted about it with Ruggie again, who found this hilarious with a dumbfounded Leona and simply said: "Awwh, Leona-sama is in loveee~!" adding a snicker at the end....and ohhhh boy, Leona's heart skipped a beat. He didn't know if it was from terror or...something else...

He's not in love...Nuh uh, he isn't! He swears he isn't!!!

...But oh you...Your voice, your personality, your appearance, your smile...oh that damn smile of yours..his heart beats a skip for you...Oh, how he wished to take you. Not as a predator anymore, oh no, more like a loverman wanting his lover to be by his side and spend time while holding each other

The more he digs deeper with this knowledge and feelings, the more he wants to drag you to his usual nap spot in the gardens of NRC and just hid there for hours, just cuddling and snuggling...God, he's desperate now....Please, notice him- WAIT, NOO!!! Stupid Leona! Focus focus! Time to nap! NOOO!!!

Let's say Leona was...a lovesick fool after he found out about his instincts screaming at him bc of you. Not that he will EVER admit it! Expect him being more clingier than before though....

I apologize for my late response!! Man, this was very fun to write tbh!! (I say as I finished this at night O_O)

I hope you enjoyed this one, Anon!!<3

I mighttt have made mistakes tho...Pls do tell me and I will quickly fix it!!

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Free requests in asks | Check DNI if you need to | Fandoms I am in

[sweetiestars]

“You know me” with Leona Kingscholar, Jade Leech, Jamil Viper

(October Prompt: First Time no sex)

The first time Leona Kingscholar wants to be awake…

Tense moments were something the prince had grown used to. On more occasions that he bothered to count, he’d managed to piss someone off. And on those same occasions, he’d sleep off remaining irritation he felt. No point in keeping himself from a good nap all because some stuck-up moron got his feelings hurt.

But your first fight rattled him a bit. Of course, his pride would never permit him to show any sign of weakness, but he couldn’t shake that dread in his stomach. You were prepared to leave, to give him time to do what he pleased.

He heard your muttered conclusion. He’d sleep it off, then you two would be back to normal.

If you were anyone else, he’d be thankful you got the memo. But you weren’t anyone. You were you. And he liked you.

He didn’t wanna feel that damn pit in his stomach. He reached for you just as you left his range. His hand missed you and he nearly fell off his little napping spot. A blow to his eg, but he tried to bite that down.

“I’m not napping until we sort this out,” being spoken in a more direct manner. When he noticed that he had your attention, he managed a smirk. “I’ll lose a couple of Z’s if it means you don’t go sulky on me. Got it?”

The first time Jade Leech allows someone to attempt to study him…

When he noticed your eyes trailing him before getting together, his eyes would narrow. His smile would curl a bit more. He wasn’t sure of the impression he gave you with those subtle adjustments. He wanted you to keep your prying eyes to yourself before something happened to them.

In your relationship, he’d grown to be more tolerant of your lingering gaze. Not enough to welcome it, but enough to accept nothing could be done.

Passive remarks felt like they were teetering the line of genuine anger and indifference. There was unease, but what could you really do?

It isn’t until one evening, far too late for either of you to be overheard or spied on, that he confronted you. “What do you gain from inspecting me? I’m not a bug underneath a microscope, nor any odd specimen to be classified accordingly.” The glass in his hand was already dry, but he kept polishing it with a rag.

“I wanted to get to know you,” his eyes narrowed. Setting the cup onto the counter, he gestured for you to elaborate. And you do your best. Observations of his behaviors and mannerisms were followed by your guess of what they mean.

He doesn’t make any motion of acknowledgment. There’s no indication of issue either. It felt like he was confused in silence, but he leaned in close to you. Breathing felt intimidating when he was so eerily close to you. He criticized your ideas of him. Some of them were absolutely ridiculous, in his words. He gave vague points on what he meant or didn’t mean.

A soft chuckle finally comes from his lips. “Stalking me for the intention of what exactly? Courting? Or perhaps you’re just insane.” Heat made you feel dizzy. To be told you were wrong about someone you cared a lot about?? Embarassing.

You let his accusing remarks hang in the air. “I just wanted to get to know you, or try to.”

He may be willing to offer that chance… someday. Until that day, he’ll correct your bold predictions of his feelings.

The first time Jamil Viper doesn’t need to be independent…

A damn sickness had him stuck in bed with a fever. He felt so miserable that he cursed the entire world for not giving the symptoms to Kalim. His hair clung uncomfortably to his face and body. Lack of motivation didn’t usually mean much to him. He did what was needed, regardless of wanting to or not.

Having you as a lover felt like a blessing and curse. Not because you were bad, but because he felt (and probably looked) like he’d been through death. A message that you were on your way to take care of him wasn’t reassuring when he felt absolutely pathetic.

Hours passed in his fading consciousness. He couldn’t deny that your doting was cute to him.

When dinner had arrived, and he sat up to eat, you attempted to do his hair. There was only so much you could do when he was so accustomed to magic.

You brushed it, learning from any mistakes he assisted in fixing. He winced a few times from unintentional tugging, but by the end of his meal, dark strands that were clinging like a second skin were pulled into a loose braid.

His nagging led to nothing productive, especially as you found yourself sick later on. But he learned if he were to fall ill again, he could trust that someone would be able to bear with his bothersome clinging.

Bleghhhh sorry for how late this was posted

I was planning to focus on writing a bunch today, but I was called into work

[writer-freak]

Kinktober day 4: Thigh riding – Leona | Twst

Warning: Gn reader, Leona kinda guiding you, english isn't my first language

A/n: Totally forgot to write the warning and authors note 😭 I was out today so I just quickly posted it from my phone

Sharing Leona’s bed was supposed to be a innocent one-night arrangement, but nothing about it had stayed innocent. The mattress dipped under his weight as he sprawled out on his back, half-draped in the sheets like a king on his throne. His eyes were half-lidded but sharp, watching you shift uneasily at the edge of the bed.

“Tch. You’re fidgeting again” he said, voice low and velvety as his tail flicked lazily at the side. “I told you to get comfortable.”

“I am comfortable” you said, but your voice betrayed you.

Leona’s lips curved into that lazy smirk you’d come to know very well, the one that said he’d already seen through you. “Then why do you smell like that?” His hand reached out, fingers curling around your wrist as he tugged you closer without any real effort. You ended up straddling his lap, your knees sinking into the mattress on either side of his hips.

Heat radiated from him almost like sunlight. His pants rode low on his hips, his shirt nowhere to be seen, exposing smooth, tan skin and the hard planes of muscle beneath. He leaned his head back against the pillows, but his golden eyes never left you.

“You’re wound up, herbivore” he murmured, his tone almost amused as his thumb stroked the inside of your wrist. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“Then… touch me” you muttered, but even you could hear the desperation creeping in.

Leona chuckled low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Not yet.” He sat up slightly, bringing his face close enough for you to feel his breath ghosting against your lips. “Tonight you’re gonna do something for me first.”

Before you could ask, his hands slid to your hips, guiding you until you were sitting pressed up against the firm muscle of his thigh. He shifted it deliberately, sliding it between your legs. The movement made you gasp, the rough fabric of his pants and the hard muscle beneath hitting right where you were sensitive.

“That’s it” he purred, his eyes dark now. “Use me.”

Your face went hot. “You—you want me to—”

He cut you off with a growl that sent a shiver down your spine. “Don’t make me repeat myself.” His grip on your hips tightened as he dragged you forward, forcing you to grind down against his thigh. The friction made you gasp again, your fingers clutching at his shoulders for balance.

Leona leaned back, his hands never leaving your hips, his expression one of lazy satisfaction as he watched you squirm. “C’mon, move. I’m not gonna do all the work tonight. Show me how bad you want it.”

You started slow, rolling your hips against his thigh experimentally. The firm muscle beneath was unyielding, the texture of his pants catching with every shift. The first sound that escaped your throat was a soft, breathy moan“nnnhh—” and Leona’s smirk widened.

“That’s it, keep going” he murmured, voice rougher now. “Rub yourself on me.”

He guided you at first, his large hands steering your hips, making you rock back and forth against the thick muscle of his thigh. The friction built quickly, every roll of your hips sending sparks of pleasure through you. Leona’s thigh tensed beneath you occasionally, the muscles flexing deliberately to give you something firmer to grind against.

You couldn’t help the sounds spilling out now, little gasps and whimpers breaking free as you moved faster, grinding down harder. “Ahhh—hah—Leona—”

“Say my name again” he growled, leaning in to nip at your jaw. His tongue flicked out to soothe the bite immediately after, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. “I wanna hear you.”

“Leona—” you gasped, your voice catching as he flexed his thigh beneath you again.

He chuckled low and dark, his hands sliding up your back, fingers digging in just enough to make you arch against him. “You’re such a good little herbivore like this. Look at you, rubbing yourself on me like you’re starving for it.”

Your movements grew more frantic as the tension built, each grind sharper than the last. You could feel the heat building low and tight, every brush of the fabric against you making it worse. Your breath came in ragged gasps now, “nghh—ahhh—” each one making Leona’s grin widen.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” he muttered, his voice a low rumble as his hands slid down to your hips again, holding you firmly in place. “I can feel you shaking already. Go on. Use me. Come for me.”

He shifted beneath you again, pressing his thigh up into you as you rocked down, the added pressure making you cry out. “Ahhh—Leona—hahhh—”

“That’s it” he growled, his lips brushing your ear as his grip tightened. “Show me how desperate you are. Make a mess on my thigh.”

Your movements turned almost frantic, your fingers digging into his shoulders hard enough to leave marks as you ground yourself against him. The sounds spilling from your lips were shameless now “nnnhh—ahhh—hahhh—” as you trembled, the coil of pleasure getting tighter and tighter until it snapped.

You cried out his name as you came, hips jerking against his thigh, your whole body trembling as the release washed over you. Leona held you steady through it, his hands firm but gentle as you shuddered and gasped, grinding through the aftershocks against him.

“Mmm” he hummed, his lips curling into a satisfied smirk as he tilted your chin up with one finger. “That’s more like it. Such a mess you made on me.” His thumb brushed your bottom lip, teasingly slow. “You look good like this.”

You slumped against him, your breath coming in ragged pants, your forehead resting against his shoulder. His scent, warm and musky, filled your head, grounding you even as you trembled.

Leona shifted beneath you again, his thigh still pressed between your legs, his voice a low purr at your ear. “We’re not done yet, herbivore. You think you’re gonna get away without me tasting you after this?”

Divider by: @/cafekitsune

[twistiraki]

🎀Flufftober Day 3 – Falling Asleep Together🎀

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TᗯIᔕTEᗪ ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇᒪᗩᑎᗪ

Characters LeonaxReader

Warnings None

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The heat outside clung to the air like a second skin, but in Leona’s room, everything was quiet, muted by thick stone walls and swaying gauze curtains that let in only slivers of golden sunlight. The bed was impossibly soft, sheets still warm from earlier sun and draped in a rich, earthy scent that could only be his.

You were already curled into the center of it, sprawled lazily on your side, the sound of water from the other room having stopped minutes ago.

And now…

The door creaked open.

Leona stepped out, towel slung low on his hips, wet hair clinging to his neck and shoulders, still steaming faintly from the shower. One hand was scratching idly through his damp bangs, and the other held nothing but the doorframe.

He spotted you immediately, and the lazy grin that spread across his face was unmistakable.

“You look cozy,” he murmured, voice thick with that post-shower drowsiness.

You didn’t move, just hummed in agreement, eyes trailing shamelessly down the line of his collarbones to the deep V where the towel barely held on. Not that he seemed to care. He never did.

“Nap’s always better after a hot shower,” you replied, stretching slightly under the covers. “You joining?”

He let out a low chuckle, stepping toward the bed with that lion-like saunter, every movement slow, deliberate, and relaxed, like he had nothing in the world to rush for.

“Mmh. You know me,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed, tail flicking lazily over the sheets. “Never turn down a nap.”

His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, droplets of water sliding down his arm. You reached out instinctively, dragging your fingers across the towel-warmed skin of his back.

“Still warm,” you murmured.

“Tch. Of course I am. Scalding in the shower, like always.”

He turned slightly, enough to catch your eyes again. They lingered on your face, soft, unreadable for a moment, before he shifted fully, laying down beside you with a satisfied groan, towel barely holding on.

He tugged you in without asking, one arm draped over your waist, face buried in your shoulder. His hair was damp against your neck, and you could feel the heat of his skin through the thin layers of cloth between you.

“Better now,” he mumbled into your collarbone. “You’re cooler than the sheets.”

“Should I take that as a compliment?”

“Take it however you want,” he said, pulling you closer. “Just don’t move.”

You smiled into his hair, fingers stroking down the line of his spine as his breathing started to slow. Warm. Heavy. Familiar.

In that moment, there was nothing else. Just the low hum of cicadas outside the stone walls, the scent of cedar and citrus on his skin, and the weight of him wrapped around you, like you belonged there, like you were his favorite place to sleep.

And maybe you were.

Flufftober Masterlist

[solxamber]

Runaway || Leona Kingscholar

Leona always did have bad timing, but this takes the cake: crashing your wedding and driving you straight back into the mess you both made.

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐃𝐚𝐲: 6

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭: Eloping with Leona

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,320

Leona gets mail.

It’s not an event that happens often, because he doesn’t like people having reasons to contact him. Most things that require his attention are delivered through messengers, or Ruggie bribing someone in the postal wing to shove it into his hands before it piles up.

So when he picks up the envelope and sees your name embossed on the front, his first thought is that fate has decided to mock him again.

Your handwriting hasn’t changed. And it makes him think of long afternoons where you’d scold him for never finishing his reports while he napped through half of them. He flips the envelope over once, twice, and then rips it open before he can talk himself out of it.

The letter inside is pastel and there are flowers pressed into the corners. Wedding Invitation. Two names printed in gilded lettering. One of them yours.

For a moment, his brain just goes silent. He can feel his own heartbeat in the back of his throat. Then, the weight of it hits.

The air leaves his chest in something that sounds too much like a laugh, except it’s humorless and sharp around the edges.

You’re getting married.

It’s been a year since you walked out of his life, leaving behind a half-made bed, three forgotten books, and a silence he still hasn’t managed to fill.

He’s tried. God, he’s tried. He went through the motions: waking up, eating, pretending to care about things he’s supposed to care about. But the days blur into a pattern of half-hearted habits.

It’s almost funny, how a man who’s supposedly so composed can’t even function without hearing you threaten to dump his laundry on the balcony if he doesn’t fold it himself.

He used to think it was better not to get attached. Easier to treat everything like sand—slip it through your fingers before it gets a chance to stick. But then you happened, and suddenly, nothing about detachment seemed appealing. You made him want things. Soft things. Human things. The kind of things that don’t fit well with his sharp edges.

And now you’re sending him an invitation like he’s supposed to sit there politely and clap when someone else slides a ring onto your finger.

He leans back in his chair, holding the invitation between two fingers like it might burn through his skin if he grips it too tight. For someone who prides himself on not caring about much, he feels this one like a knife in the ribs.

He tells himself he doesn’t have a reason to go. That you made your choice, and he should respect it. That showing up would be pathetic.

But then again, not going would mean spending the rest of his life wondering what you looked like when you said yes to someone who wasn’t him.

Leona doesn’t believe in fate, destiny, or anything remotely sentimental. But he knows regret. He’s lived long enough to know how it festers when you let it rot in peace.

So he makes the decision quietly, the same way he does everything that actually matters.

He’ll go. He’ll sit there, watch you smile, pretend it doesn’t tear him apart, and then disappear before anyone notices. He’ll let himself see you one last time, because if he doesn’t, it’ll haunt him worse than the breakup ever did.

Leona doesn’t usually go out of his way for anything that requires effort, but somehow, here he is, walking through the entrance of a wedding hall that smells faintly of overpriced flowers and bad decisions. He tells himself it’s closure.

That he’s here to make peace with it, to be the kind of mature ex who nods stoically from the back row before disappearing forever. It sounds good in theory.

Except the second he steps inside, something in his chest clenches. Instinct. The same one that told him when to fight, when to sleep, when to keep his mouth shut.

His gut has led him to far too many fights, naps in regrettable places, and a lifetime of bad decisions to consider it a reliable source. But as he stands in the venue of your wedding—too overdressed, too tense, and entirely too sober—something inside him twists, sharp and insistent.

He doesn’t know why it feels urgent, but it does. So he follows it. Through corridors lined with satin ribbons and bouquets that look like they were chosen by someone allergic to subtlety. That’s when he spots them—your best friend.

They're standing by the corner, pretending to check their phone, but the moment they see him, their entire face lights up. It's not polite oh, you came smile that you'd expect to see on your ex's best friend, but a full, delighted I’ve been waiting for this exact moment in my evil little plan grin.

“Leona Kingscholar,” they say, voice sugary and smug. “Wow. Didn’t think you’d actually show up.”

He narrows his eyes. “Didn’t plan to.”

“Perfect!” they chirp, like that’s exactly what they wanted to hear. They grab his arm before he can move away. “Come on.”

That’s his first warning sign—they're too happy to see him. Nobody should ever look that thrilled to run into their best friend’s ex at their wedding.

Before he can question anything, they lead him down a hallway and stop outside a door decorated with white flowers. They look him dead in the eye, still smiling that unnervingly knowing smile.

“They're in there,” they say. “You should talk to them.”

He blinks. “What?”

But they’re already turning to leave. “You’ll thank me later!” they call over their shoulder.

Then, from behind the door, he hears it—a small, broken sound.

Crying.

Leona hesitates for all of three seconds before his hand moves on its own. The door creaks open just enough for him to see you, standing in front of the mirror.

You’re still in your wedding outfit, hair done perfectly, makeup smudged in a way that tells him this isn’t just nervous crying—it’s heartbreak crying.

You look up, startled, and your eyes widen. “Leona?”

You blink hard, trying to pull yourself back together, and swipe a hand across your face. “Why are you here?” you ask, voice trembling but cold.

He should leave. That would be the respectable, non-chaotic thing to do. But instead, he walks in, closes the door quietly behind him, and says the most impulsive thing he’s ever said in his life.

“Run away with me.”

Your expression cracks into something raw and furious. “What did you just say?”

He should stop. He doesn’t. “You heard me.”

You stare at him like he’s just confessed to arson. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“Probably,” he says.

You take a step closer, voice shaking but furious. “How dare you? You–you broke my heart, and now you show up on my wedding day, of all days, to pull this?!”

He opens his mouth to answer, but the truth is, he doesn’t have an answer that makes sense.

It’s selfish. It’s desperate. It’s him at his absolute worst—and he knows it. But then he catches the shimmer in your lashes, the way your lip trembles when you try not to cry again, and whatever logic he had left crumbles.

“Do you really wanna settle for that loser?” he asks, voice low. He’s bluffing—he doesn’t even know who you’re marrying. Could be a duke, could be a shopkeeper, could be a perfectly normal person with good hygiene and no emotional damage. Doesn’t matter.

You go quiet. For a long moment, neither of you moves. You’re close enough that he can see the tremble in your hands and the fury in your eyes that’s fighting against something softer underneath.

Finally, you inhale sharply, square your shoulders, and hiss, “You’re a selfish, arrogant prick.”

He almost smiles. “Yeah. You’ve mentioned.”

Finally, you wipe at your face, take a deep breath, and mutter, “Go get the car.”

He blinks. “...What?”

You point toward the door, expression deadly serious. “Before I change my mind. Go get the damn car.”

For the first time in a long time, Leona feels alive.

“Wait by the east gate,” you say. “I’m gonna run during the vows.”

“That’s idiotic,” he mutters. “Just leave now.”

“No,” you snap, then take a shaky breath. “No. That walking paycheck they want me to marry—is an arrogant trust fund brat with the personality of dry toast. I want everyone in that room to remember that I hate this.”

Leona stares at you, and then something in his face cracks. A short, low laugh escapes him—half disbelief, half admiration. It’s been so long since he’s seen that fire in you that it almost hurts to look at it.

“You’re completely insane,” he says finally.

“Yeah,” you mutter. “Guess being with you rubbed off.”

That gets another laugh out of him. It sounds like it’s been sitting in his chest for months, waiting to be let out. He shakes his head, pushing a hand through his hair. “You haven’t changed.”

You look up, and your eyes meet his in the mirror. For a moment, neither of you says anything. There’s too much between you—the fights, the silence, the nights he didn’t come back, the mornings you pretended you didn’t care. It all hangs there, heavy and unspoken.

He cups your face and kisses you before either of you can think about it. It's desperate, raw, and full of everything he couldn’t say when he still had the chance. You taste like the end of something and the start of something even dumber.

When he pulls back, he’s breathing hard, forehead resting against yours. “I’ll be outside,” he murmurs.

You nod, voice steady now. “East gate. Don’t be late.”

He pauses in the doorway, looking at you one last time, and for once, he doesn’t try to come up with something clever. He just leaves.

The ceremony feels like being trapped in a room with every bad decision you’ve ever made, all smiling politely in pressed suits. The person standing across from you is saying their vows, but all you can hear is your own heartbeat pounding in your ears.

When it’s your turn, you take the microphone, stare at the crowd of expensive clothes and forced smiles, and say clearly, “Everyone here can sit on it and spin.”

There’s a gasp, and before anyone can process what you mean, you kick off your shoes, and take off down the aisle.

By the time someone yells your name, you’re already out the door, feet hitting the pavement, lungs burning.

Leona’s car is parked at the edge of the drive, engine running, window down. He doesn’t even look surprised when you yank the door open and throw yourself inside.

“Took you long enough,” he says, a smirk tugging at his mouth as he slams the pedal down.

The tires squeal, the venue shrinks in the rearview mirror, and for the first time in a long time, you both start laughing—half-crazed, half-free.

It's laughter that sounds like two people who just burned their bridges and didn’t look back to see if they caught fire.

The drive back is quiet except for the sound of the wind tearing through the open windows and the occasional laugh that slips out between breaths—uneasy, delirious, the kind of laugh that happens when you’re both too wired to process what you’ve done. The road stretches endlessly ahead, and Leona keeps his eyes fixed on it.

When he finally pulls up to the building, your chest tightens. The same half-cracked porch light still flickers, the curtains you picked together still hanging a little crooked. The world moved on, but this place didn’t.

Inside, everything’s almost painfully familiar. The mug you left on the shelf is still there, a thin layer of dust coating it like it’s been waiting. The blanket on the couch still slumped the same way, the faint scent of old coffee and his cologne still lingering in the air.

You look around and shake your head. “You really didn’t change a thing, huh? That’s… kind of sad.”

Leona drops his keys on the counter with a soft clink. “Didn’t feel like it.”

You grin. “You sentimental loser.”

“Shut it,” he mutters, but the words come out gentler than he means them to. Then he steps closer, hesitating only for a second before pulling you in. His arms are solid, heavy around you, and he buries his face into your shoulder like he’s been holding his breath for a year and finally has gotten to let it go.

Your phone won’t stop buzzing in your pocket. Call after call. Notifications piling up like they're trying to drag you back to the world you just ran from. You fish it out, stare at the screen for a moment, then press and hold until it goes dark.

You stay like that for a while—his heartbeat steady against yours, the quiet of the house swallowing everything else. When you finally speak, your voice is small but clear. “If we’re doing this again… you need to actually talk to me this time. No shutting down, no disappearing. I burned every bridge I had today. For you.”

He goes still and exhales, a slow, rough sound that shakes in the middle. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know. I’ll… try to be better.”

You nod, because you’ve heard promises before, but this one sounds like he actually means it. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the honesty in his tone. Either way, you believe him.

You tilt your head up, catch his gaze, and then kiss him. It’s steadier than before and much less desperate.

When you pull away, the world outside is still a mess. But here, in this half-lit apartment that you call home, everything finally feels right again.

Fall Event ; Masterlist

[happinesstothecorpse-deactivate]

Gloves

//||\\

Intro: This too, is a fetish.

Warnings: not proofread, bad writing, awful grammar, a little thirsty, rushed

A/N: needed to push something quick out i think my other leona fic will take a looong while (it’s a little long + im getting busier)

Masterlist

//||\\

“Leona.”

“Hm?”

“Why do you wear gloves?”

The beastman cracks one eye open to look at you. You’re staring back at him with wide, bright eyes and a pretty smile, and his tail subconsciously curls around your waist when you curl up against his chest.

“Because,” he grumbles.

“Aww. Okay.”

Don’t look so upset. He doesn’t really have a reason. They’re just gloves.

“Why are you asking?” Leona frowns and gently runs his fingers through your hair, “you never minded them before. Does it bother you?”

You shake your head and say, “I think they’re hot as fuck.”

…Interesting train of thought. He pokes at your cheek, “I’m always hot.”

“Yeah, but you’d be hotter if you took them off with your teeth."

He stops. The lion’s ears lay flat against his head, tail stiffening upright behind him. His brows knot together and he shifts to be more caging you into the mattress, pushing himself up above you with his arms. He catches your grin and flicks at your forehead in response.

“I’m not doing that, but you can keep on dreaming, herbivore.”

Truly, he adores the little chuckles that escape your lips as you wrap your arms around him to pull him down on top of you. You look so genuinely happy just existing in the same space as Leona. That’s not a familiar thing. Not to him.

“We do much worse in my dreams.”

He hates the way his heart quickens, and he lightning shoots up every nerve that comes into contact with you. It’s just a sentence. It’s only a few words, and your lips are kissing down his jaw before he knows it and—

“Yeah? What were we doing?” he almost purrs into your ear, because he’d be damned if he ever let you see him flustered, “tell me. I want to hear it.”

“No…you have to take off your gloves first.”

“Why are you so weirdly insistent on that?”

“Because!” your eyes are very strangely shiny for such a topic, “it’s hot.”

And the truth is, he can’t quite tell you off. You’ve stretched his tolerance for you far beyond what he thought possible, and it was such a curious thing. Even now, though he genuinely believes your blatant adoration for the act you describe is strange at best, he can’t refuse you.

So, with a sigh, Leona sits up.

You clap your hands together as you follow his action, thrilled with the fact you’ve managed to wear him down.

Leona bites at the leather on the tip of his right glove, slowly taking it off by pulling his hand away while he continues to watch you. You seem almost completely enthralled by his visage, so he does the same to the other hand and lightly tosses his gloves at your face.

“Pervert.”

“I’m not a pervert!”

[noneknowingaxolotl]

Anyone else think Leona would have a rough tongue? Like a lion’s, but perhaps less… well, less tearing-meat-off-bones-ish due to being a beastman. Perhaps it feels a little sharper than a housecat’s, but nothing that would break skin.

And since cats have the instinct to groom those close to them, you’re on the chopping block. You almost jumped out of your skin the first time you felt the little scrape against the side of your neck, but he held you firmly in place with his heavy body draped over yours, a growl of disapproval rising from his throat when you laugh and writhe at the feeling. He might even give you a warning bite, just enough for you to feel the outline of his sharp canines into your shoulder, grumbling something snarky under his breath before attacking your throat again with laps of his tongue, dipping down to your sternum just to rise back up with your jaw.

Rub the base of his tail while he does it and he may finally let up. He might even go completely limp above you in bliss at the feeling. Though, you run the risk of being trapped there until he wakes up. And who knows when that might be.

[zephyrsandcoves]

Elastic Hearts

Pairing: Leona Kingscholar x Third-year Lab Partner Reader Synopsis: Leona takes care of you after a lab disaster and learns a little more than you intended to reveal. Tags: SFW, but occasionally suggestive, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, potion use, reader is a little insecure Word Count: ~15k

Perhaps your measurements were off. Perhaps your stirring technique still hasn’t improved. Perhaps the fire was too hot. Perhaps your magic hadn’t been steady enough.

Ah. It probably was your magic. Your stupidly unstable magic. Will you ever learn to channel properly?

It doesn’t matter now. 

The thunderous explosion has already taken you and your fellow third-years by surprise. Professor Crewel is quick to do damage control, using a spell to contain the smoke and prevent it from spreading to the remainder of the lab. There is no saving you, though. Having been standing directly over the cauldron, you end up enveloped in the huge puff of neon pink.

The air is heavy. Your lungs burn. Trying to breathe only results in what feels like an eruption in your chest. A coughing fit overcomes you. 

With your ears still ringing and your vision spinning, you try in vain to force yourself off the ground. Your limbs feel heavy. You can barely register a pair of arms wrapping around you, helping you to your feet and guiding your stumbling body out of the lab before propping you up against the nearest wall. You try to suck in as much fresh air as possible, but the tightness of your traitorous lungs refuses to yield. 

“Keep still, puppy. Don’t panic.” Crewel appears above you, using a firm but gentle grip to press your shoulders against the wall. His gloved fingers brush over your cheeks and nose, ridding your face of pink dusk. 

“You don’t have any burns,” he mutters, seemingly more to himself than you. His voice comes to you as though it were travelling through water. 

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sir. You’re not sure you manage to say it out loud. If you do, he doesn’t acknowledge it. He’s probably so used to you making messes for him to clean up that your apologies no longer mean anything.

“Thankfully, you were wearing your goggles. There’s no saying what might have happened to your eyes otherwise. Good pup.” 

Good pups don’t usually blow up potionology labs.

Crewel’s hands drop to the buttons of your lab coat as his gaze momentarily drifts to a spot behind you. “Help me get this coat off so she can breathe more easily.”

The wall at your back shifts, beginning to grumble incoherently before cutting itself off with a sneeze that sends vibrations through your body.

Wait. Walls don’t usually do that, do they?

A second pair of hands appears from behind. They drag your lab coat off your frame before getting to work on your goggles and gloves. Still lightheaded, you carefully tilt your head to look over your shoulder.

The sneezing, grumbling wall is Leona Kingscholar. The last person you want seeing you like this.

The sight of him glaring down at you with narrowed emerald eyes causes your breath to hitch and pulls a few more coughs out of you. You try to peel yourself off of him, but Crewel’s grasp holds you firmly in place. 

Satisfied with your unbuttoned uniform jacket and your loosened tie, the professor meets your gaze once more. “Steady breaths, now. Are you in any pain?”

You blink slowly. “Head hurts,” you mumble. “ ’m dizzy and my chest feels tight.”

“Noted. Don’t fret, little one. Kingscholar will take you to the infirmary.”

“I will?” You could practically hear your classmate’s eyebrows shooting up.

“Yes, you will.” Crewel finally released his hold on you. Now that you are no longer tacked onto the man behind you, you try to regain your footing, but this time, Leona’s hands are the ones that still your movements, using his grip on your shoulders to pull your back flush against his chest. He begins to protest but is cut off by his own sneezing. 

“You’ve barely been doing anything all class,” continues your teacher. “I was surprised you even bothered to show up, so you might as well make yourself useful for once. I’m not sorry if this gets in the way of your plans to nap in the back. I need to figure out what went wrong with the prefect’s potion so I can help her avoid any long-term effects.” His eyes return to you. “I will visit you soon for a more thorough evaluation and to administer any healing potions I deem necessary. Just rest until then.”

With that, Professor Crewel scoops up your pile of discarded outerwear, drops them into a large trash bag you don’t remember him having, and disappears into the laboratory.

Leona’s exasperated sigh ruffles the top of your hair. “Great start to a Monday morning.” 

You turn in his grasp to look at him, and he makes no objection. Perhaps this is what emboldens you to step away from him, making one final attempt at standing on your own, but you begin to wobble almost immediately. He is quick to grab you, placing his hands under your armpits and gripping you almost tightly enough to bruise your flesh. 

“Don’t make this any more of a pain than it needs to be.” 

The ground disappears from beneath your feet, and you come face to face with a white surface. You panic for a moment before realising that Leona has hoisted you over his shoulder and that you’re staring at the back of his lab coat. 

“Leona!” You dig your fingers into your back as he begins walking. “I’m already dizzy.”

“Were you expectin’ bridal style, princess?” You feel his sarcastic quip reverberating beneath your hands and chest. 

“Put me down!”

“This is quicker,” he argues. He tightens the grip he has on your body as though he’s afraid you’ll start thrashing any second. “It’ll be a real hassle to help you walk over to the infirmary. Just get nice and comfortable up there; it’ll be over in a second.”

You don’t respond, trying your best to avoid focusing on the movement of the floor beneath you. You hold your breath in an attempt to keep your insides inside, but you only end up feeling as though sharp claws are scratching at your lungs.

At least this shitty feeling is a distraction from the fact that, in his attempt to stabilize you, one of your crush’s palms just accidentally groped your ass.

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

You don’t remember the infirmary being this far. Perhaps it only feels as though you’ve been precariously balanced on Leona’s broad shoulder forever. His fingers now dig into your lower back and one of your thighs. Being upside down is making your light-headedness worse, and Leona’s swishing tail keeps invading your vision. It drags to the left, bounces a few times, then returns to the right to finish the lap. 

Left. Right. Left. Right. Swish. Swish. Swish, swish, swish... 

Maybe if you just reach out and—

“Oi!” Leona snaps at you. “Let go, or I’ll drop you, you damn brat!”

“Sorry, it’s ju— Ow!” Leona’s tail rips itself out of your loose clutch and lashes at your back before the tuft drags down your shoulder and neck, ultimately disappearing from your sight. “It’s just moving and making me so nauseous. Feels like I’m gonna throw up.”

“You better keep it down, herbivore. If you vomit on me, I swear I’m gonna...” He swallows the threat. “This wouldn’t have happened if you ditched with me like I told you to.”

“I know, I know! I needed the practice, though. I’m so shit at potions and I—” One of your hands releases his lab coat and flies to your mouth, which is rapidly filling up with spit. “Leona! Ugh, ’m gonna— put me down right now!”

You are suddenly upright once more, but the bile is already rising in your throat. Before you can register what’s happening, you’re seated on the edge of a bed with Leona’s fingers tangling into your hair and forcing your head down into an empty trashcan. You hadn’t even realised you’d entered the infirmary. 

Your throat and nose burn, and tears leak from your eyes. The stream feels endless.

For a moment, you think it’s over, allowing Leona to remove the bin from beneath you. “Shit,” he mutters, baring his sharp canines as he grimaces. “That’s fucking gross.” 

You don’t have time to argue, too focused on snatching the bin back for round two.

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

A cool palm presses against your forehead. “Still burnin’ up.” 

You peel your eyes open to meet Leona’s emerald gaze. He’s changed into his P.E. uniform and pulled his hair back. His eyebrows are scrunched together in concentration. “You look like ass. Still got a headache?”

Your throat feels raw as you try to force out a response. “Mhm... might die...” 

You glance around the infirmary. The curtains are drawn tight and the light directly above you is off. The candles on each bedside cabinet are lit, filling the room with a green hue. There’s light spilling into the room from the hallway and from a room in the corner.

“That easy to kill you, huh?” He smirks down at you. “Shoulda told me sooner, brat.”

“ ’m not a brat.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” He slides off the infirmary bed and walks out of your line of vision.

You wince as you force yourself up a little, letting your weight rest on your elbows. “Are you leaving me?”

“What,” he scoffs, “I take my hands off you for a few seconds and you’re already missing me? You’re like a clingy cub.” You hear him rummaging around for a few moments before he returns with a glass vial. “I’m not going anywhere. It’s just time for another dose of your medicine.” 

Another dose? “Did Crewel come by already?” 

He pauses in his tracks, levelling you with an incredulous stare. “Jeez. You really are that out of it, huh?” He tosses open the curtains of the nearest window. “Any idea what time it is? He’s already checked on you four times and force-fed you two doses of this stuff.” He adopts a mocking tone. “You even tried fighting the poor guy after all the trouble he went through to make this for you.”

You sit up fully, pressing a palm to your warm temple in a feeble attempt to soothe the throbbing as you stare blankly through the window at the night sky. You prod at your memories for any recollection of the past few hours to no avail. “Is that why my mouth tastes so gross?”

“No,” he deadpans, “your mouth’s nasty ’cuz you wouldn’t stop puking earlier.”

“Ew.”

“Ew is right. You gave the ghost nurse on duty a hard time, ya know.” The rickety bed squeaks beneath you when he plops down near your feet and hands you the vial. “Gonna take this or not? Don’t tell me you need the prof to come to feed you again. Or would you prefer I do it this time?” 

You ignore his condescending tone and pluck it from his fingers, uncapping it and wincing at the sharp metallic scent. You pinch your nose and down it with a shudder. “Ugh, yuck! How much more of this am I gonna have to drink?”

“Only two more bottles.” Leona fishes a pair of pills out of his pocket. “Take these, too. S’for the fever and headache. You can chew ’em up.” 

You follow his instructions and instantly regret it. You kick him in the hip as he snickers at your plight. “Get me water right now, Leona.”

“Can’t believe you really fell for that. I really hope you’re smarter when you’re not sick.” He leans over and hands you a bottle you hadn’t realised he was holding and watches you chug its contents. “If you’re strong enough to kick that hard, you’ll be fine by tomorrow.”

You gently toss the now empty bottle at his head, slightly disappointed that he catches it before it can whack him. “Have you really been here since this morning?”

“It’s not like I had anything better to do.”

“What about classes? You missed them for someone you don’t even know that well?”

“I’d have missed them for no reason. Don’t start feelin’ too special.” Right. Of course. “I already know all that stuff anyway.”

“Have you eaten?”

“Made Ruggie bring me dinner.” Of course he did. “There’s some for you too, if you want it.”

“I’ll probably bring it back up,” you respond, frowning slightly, “I’m sorry for all this trouble.”

“You’re not welcome, brat. I thought this would be a good place to nap. Had no idea you could be such a handful.” His voice holds no true bite, but his words still make you feel bad. Leona leans back onto his palms, staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eye. “I’ll admit that it was a little entertaining, though. You’re always so quiet; never thought I’d hear you say that kind of stuff.”

You scrunch your face in confusion. “What kind of stuff?” 

He pauses for a few moments, staring at you as though he is contemplating his next move. You can almost see the gears turning behind his eyes. He eventually lets out a scoff. “Maybe it’s best I don’t tell you. Save you the embarrassment.” The man before you apparently finds some sort of amusement in watching you rack your brain. “You’re lucky I’m here and not someone like that scheming cephalo-punk. He’d have recorded it all and blackmailed you. Maybe I shoulda done that.”

“Leona.” You ignore your headache and scoot forward. “Tell me what I said.”

He suddenly stands and places a hand on your shoulder, coaxing you back into a lying position. “Don’t get so worked up. If you’re good, I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“But—”

“No buts.” He sighs. He’s been doing that all day. Because of you. “You’re almost like a kid. Quit bein’ such a headache and go back to sleep.”

You find it in you to bite out one more complaint. “I feel disgusting, Leona.”

“You smell disgusting too.” Before you can snap back, he grabs a black drawstring bag from the bedside cabinet and deposits it on your lap. He nods to the corner. “Bathroom’s over there.”

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

The light in the infirmary bathroom is blinding. As you sit on the toilet to relieve yourself, you squint at the contents of the bag: a new toothbrush, an unopened tube of toothpaste in the brand that Sam stocks, a pack of baby wipes, a few gold coloured hair ties, and some clothes that seem way too big for you. 

You busy yourself with scrubbing the foul taste off your tongue, peeling off your sweaty uniform, and using the wipes to clean your burning flesh the best you can. The clothes Leona prepared are too large. The sweatpants are too long and the wide collar of the black shirt threatens to slide off your shoulders. You don’t have nearly enough energy to cast the resizing spell you learned last year, and you doubt Leona would do it for you just because you asked. The material is so soft against your flesh, though, that you have no intentions of complaining.

You suppose you can’t complain even if you wanted to. By the time you leave the bathroom, Leona is passed out on one of the beds in the furthest corner of the infirmary. 

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

The next time you awake, it is to the sound of Crewel’s voice. The candles are blown out, but you still manage to see his silhouette leaning in the doorway. 

“You may return to Savanaclaw if you please.”

“I know.” There is a pause before Leona speaks again. “She doesn’t remember.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing,” the professor responds. 

“She’ll want to know.”

“Shouldn’t you of all people know what curiosity does to cats? Enough of this. She’s stirring.” 

Had you more energy, you’d have started asking questions. Right now, though, it feels difficult to even move, much less make sense of everything they’re saying.

“Medicine time, pup. I must urge you to be good this time.” You barely manage an incoherent grumble before you groggily roll onto your side and haul the thin sheet above your head. 

“It’s the middle of the night,” says Crewel, impatience lining his voice. “You are not the only one who wishes to sleep. I will not hesitate to use magic to restrain you again.”

“Go away,” you grumble sleepily, “that shit’s nasty.” 

Suddenly, you feel the bed rock and the linens are yanked off your body. It takes you a moment to realise that you’re on your back once more. Before you can punch or kick at your assailant, a heavy weight settles on top of you. Leona glares down at you. “You’re really startin’ to drive me up a wall.” You feebly slap at his shoulders, but he pays you no mind. One of his hands grabs your jaw and squeezes. “Open your mouth. Now.”

A few more seconds of this is all you can manage before you yelp at the pain. He takes the opportunity to shove two fingers into your mouth, pressing your tongue down and making you gag. Crewel takes the opportunity to pour the potion straight down your throat. You nearly choke. Leona’s fingers remain in your mouth even after you’ve managed to swallow, and you don’t hesitate to bite down on them. He yanks his hand back with a pained curse and finally climbs off of you. You wipe the corners of your mouth, cleaning any of the potion that escaped.

Crewel clears his throat with a grimace. “How untrained you both are,” he mutters. He briefly runs the back of his hand across your forehead. “That’s much better than last time. Keep resting. You too, Leona.” He spares a glance at the beastman. “And try not to rough-house her too much.” 

“Tell her not to bite me again!” But Crewel’s back is already turned to the two of you. You begin to apologise, but Leona’s snarky laugh cuts you off. “Guess I can’t call you a herbivore anymore, huh?

You don’t respond. You’re still spiralling from the feeling of his weight crushing you, of his knees digging into your sides, of his fingers stuffing themselves into your mouth… 

Leona Kingscholar was just on top of you, pinning you to a flimsy infirmary bed. You roll back onto your side, giving him your back as you try to slow your racing heart.

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

You wake up in your room, confused and thirsty. 

It takes you a few moments to make sense of your surroundings and realise that Leona must have brought you here while you were still asleep. The clock on the wall tells you it’s midday. Diligent as you may be, you recognise that there’s no point in rushing to classes this late. Not when you still feel this exhausted.

On the bedside table sit two bottles of water. You waste no time with them.

Halfway through your second bottle, you pause to examine the other items. The last dose of that awful concoction, a bottle of painkillers, a paper bag that smells really good, the drawstring bag from last night, a thermometer, and a... note?

You grab the piece of paper, staring at the signature for a few seconds before you actually begin reading:

“If you really can’t figure out a potion, just tell me next time. Drink the last of the healing potion and take a damn shower.

- L” 

You are only slightly surprised at the elegance of his penmanship. He’s a prince, after all. What you don’t understand is why he bothered to leave a note at all.

Truth be told, you don’t understand why he’s done anything so far. Before yesterday, Leona only ever asked you for help skipping lessons (requests to which you never agreed) or told you where to sit so he could nap in behind you. He almost never helps anyone, and now he’s taking care of you all of a sudden? You of all people? You didn’t even think he knew your name. 

For a moment, a part of you wonders if he somehow caught you watching him from under the bleachers at his spelldrive practice last week. Or from the back of the hall during Crowley’s last impromptu speech. Or from across the cafeteria everyday at lunch. Or…

A wave of panic washes over you. What if he knows you’ve been eyeing him and decided to play a nasty prank on you. 

No. You push the thought away. Leona wouldn’t do something like that. He’d never waste his energy on silly pranks, and most certainly not on someone like you. 

So then why? What is he getting out of this?

You use the thermometer even though you already know your fever is gone. 

You down the silver potion and chase it with the remainder of your water. 

You don’t need the painkillers. 

The paper bag must be the food Ruggie brought you last night. You don’t realise just how hungry you ate until you unwrap your favourite sandwich. He probably just picked something randomly and you got lucky.

While you eat, you peep into the drawstring bag to find your dirty school uniform folded just the way you left it, along with the empty vials that once held Crewel’s concoction. You should wash. Wash your uniform so it will dry by this evening. Wash the bottles so you can return them to Crewel tomorrow. Wash the clothes you slept in and return them to Leo—

Hold on. You glare back down at Leona’s note. Did he just call you stinky?!

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

The evening breeze at Savanaclaw caresses your skin. The air is a bit warm, but not sticky. You clutch the black drawstring bag against your chest, the clothes Leona lent you neatly folded inside. 

The student guarding the dorm entrance happens to be your lab partner from yesterday. And, well…

“Ribbit.”

You stare at him, dumbfounded. “Are you... how...” You look around as though you will find the words you’re looking for hiding under one of the decorative shrubs. “Did my explosion do that to you?”

“Ribbit! Ribbit, ribbit!” The boy shakes his head back and forth before launching into a series of wild gestures and frantic croaks. He finally finishes and looks at you with a pleading look in his eye. 

“I, uh... didn’t catch any of that.” You wince at his pained ribbit. “I think you should go see Professor Crewel.” 

Your lab mate sighs and tries to respond, but you quickly cut in before he can begin serenading you once more. “Look, I’m here to see Leona. Can you show me where to go?”

With a final, slightly confused croak, he offers a small nod and gestures for you to follow him. 

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

Leona is sprawled out on his stomach, tail flicking lazily from side to side. His ears twitch when you take a step into his room. “Finally took a bath, huh?” He yawns deeply, not even bothering to open his eyes. “You reeked of chemicals before.” 

“How did you know it was me?”

“How do you people live with such a pathetic sense of smell? Knew it was you from halfway down the corridor.” He finally rolls onto his back and opens his eyes, the scar on his eye stretching as he raises an eyebrow at you. “Most prey consider it unwise to waltz straight into the lion’s den. You servin’ yourself up for dinner or something?”

“You don’t look very excited to eat me,” you argue, extending your arms to offer him the bag. “I’ve come to return the clothes you lent me.”

He stares at you with a befuddled expression. “You came all the way here for that? Surprised you didn’t just keep ’em.” 

“Why would I? They are yours, aren’t they?”

“You prayin’ for a yes?” he asks with a sly grin that makes you look down at your feet. Did it suddenly get really hot in the dorm, or is the thought of wearing Leona’s clothes making your entire body feel warmer? “They are mine. I’m just so generous, aren’t I? Toss ’em anywhere. Ruggie’ll deal with it later.”

“Ruggie handles your laundry, too?” You roll your eyes and make your way to the dressing table, happy to finally face away from him for a few moments. “I washed them already, so you can give the poor guy a rest.” You neatly place the bag in the corner of the desk before pulling out the chair, flipping it to face him, taking a seat.

“Why are you gettin’ comfy?” 

“That eager to get rid of me?”

“Got no one else to badger?” Leona sits up with a groan. 

You ignore the quip. “Your sentry is croaking,” you begin, thinking back to the distressed ribbits of your classmate. “Did I do that?”

“Do I look like I have time to pay attention to all my dorm members’ problems?” His hand reaches under his loose shirt to scratch at his tummy, revealing that the waistband of his pants is sitting dangerously low on his hips. “From what I hear, he did it to himself. He tried remaking the truth potion from scratch after we left, but he messed it up. He’ll be fine in another day or two.”

“Sounds like you were paying attention, then,” you mutter. The potion you were supposed to make yesterday would force the drinker to answer questions truthfully for a certain amount of time. 

“Just be happy that’s not you.” You shudder at the thought.

You cross your arms, doing everything in your power to avoid looking at the tufts of hair peeking over Leona’s waistband. “You promised to tell me what kinds of weird things I said yesterday.”

“I said I’d tell you if you were good.” He raises his hand to show you a few purple spots below his knuckles. “You have not been good.”

You are stricken by a pang of guilt. You had no idea you’d bitten him that hard. Way to bag a prince, you fool. “I’m sorry,” you say with a frown, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” He scoffs. “Don’t make me laugh. Took me by surprise and pissed me right off, but a kitten nibble like this isn’t nearly enough to hurt a lion like me.”

“So I’ve graduated from herbivore to kitten?”

“That’s what you took from that?” His eyes all but roll out of his head. “Let me ask you something. Is this your first time almost blowing up the lab?”

“You’d know if you came to class more often,” you joke, earning yourself yet another eyeroll. “I’ve had a ton of mishaps before, but this is the first time this year. And so far, this has been the... loudest. Why?” 

“Do the potions ever come out right?”

“Eventually, but with some pretty nasty side effects.” You think back to all of your fiascos from before Leona ended up in your year. You shrunk yourself to the size of a pen more than once. Last year, you turned Rook’s hair pink. Once, during your first year, you made ivy grow out of Crewel’s nose. You wince at the memory of that last one. “Crewel’s probably really sick of cleaning up all my messes.”

“That’s what happened yesterday.”

“Huh?”

Leona stands and walks over to a messy pile of books in the corner before crouching and flipping through a few of them. None of them are NRC required texts. In fact, most of them aren’t even in the common tongue.

“You made a truth potion, alright,” he continues. “A real strong one. Strong enough that breathin’ in the fumes was enough for it to work on you.” Having found the book he was searching for, he grabs it and pads over to you. 

“The smoke and chemicals are what made you sick, but the potion itself worked. Thing is, instead of just making you answer questions truthfully, it made you start revealing all kinds of truths all on your own with zero restraint. It turned off your filter, made you say all the crazy shit that was in your head, and then wiped your memory of the whole thing. Ever thought of workin’ for STYX?”

He towers over you with the book tucked under his arm. He’s so close that you have to crane your neck to look him in the eyes, the only other option being to stare straight at his groin. You can smell him. “Leona, you’re too close.” You try to scoot back, but the chair simply thumps against the dresser behind you. “Let me get up.”

“I thought you made yourself at home there,” he retorts, a wicked smirk playing on his lips. He places a hand on one of the chair’s arms, leaning over you and almost caging you beneath him. “Now you wanna run? Are you scared I’m finally ready to swallow you whole?”

You manage to catch yourself and refrain from biting your lip. His face, his scent, his warmth. It’s all too close.

You take a breath in an attempt to calm your racing heart, then sneer up at him with all the faux disgust you can muster. “Scared? Of you? Never.” You place your palms against his hunched shoulders and shove him lightly. “Now move.” 

The measly push itself does nothing to shake him, but he relents with a sigh, taking a step back and giving you enough room to stand and remove yourself from beneath him. He drops a knee into the now vacant seat and leans over the back of the chair. The book falls onto the dresser with a thud. 

“Leona, I want to know what I said.”

“Why’s it matter? You can’t un-say it.”

“I know that, but...” But what if you accidentally told him something insanely embarrassing? Like how often you think of him, or—

Stop. Do you really want to know?

“You did a whole lot of snivellin’ for starters,” he begins, flipping to the back of the book and looking through the index. “Started cryin’ and groanin’ about how much everything hurt. ’Leona, my ribs are crushing me! Leona, there’s vomit in my nose! Leona, my head hurts!’ Wouldn’t quit pesterin’ me.”

He finds what he’s looking for in the index and flips to a page near the centre of the book. He pulls a hair tie off his wrist to use as a bookmark and slams it shut before turning to sit in the chair properly. 

Leona Kingscholar likes to manspread.

“Then you started whinin’ about how much you miss your cat, and cryin’ cuz you thought that no one at home missed you.

“Then Crewel showed up and I nearly died of second-handembarrassment. ‘I’m sorry for always fucking up your potions! I promise I don’t mean to cause all this trouble. I want you to like me. I want my teachers to like me but everyone hates me because I’m not good at anything.’ “ 

The high pitched voice he used to mock you was really starting to itch your skin. “Surely I didn’t sound anything like that.”

“Why ask if you weren’t gonna believe me?”

“Your impression of my voice is way off! But go on… what else did I say.?”

“No clue,” he responds. “I had to leave the room while Crewel wiped more pink stuff off you because it was making me sneeze. I didn’t wanna hear anymore anyway. The second-hand embarrassment might have ended me.”

What do you even say to that?

You sit on the edge of his bed, but promptly stand again. These sheets probably cost more than your entire dorm. You shift your weight from side to side, trying to find the right words. “That is really embarrassing. I’m sorry you had to see that. Please... please don’t tell anyone.”

“Relax. I got better things to do than run lip about you.”

“Thank you, Leona,” you say softly. “Not just for that. Thanks for looking after me yesterday, even when I was bugging your nose. I still don’t get why you’d do something like that, but thank you.”

“Geez, you thank everyone this profusely for everything? Gonna start kissin’ my feet next?”

“Ew! No way.”

His eyes narrow at you. “What do you mean, ew? You sayin’ my feet are nasty?”

“Do you want me to kiss your feet? That’s gross! Don’t tell me you’re into that.”

“Hold up. Don’t get the wrong idea now, kitten, I’m just sayin’—”

“Leona!” Ruggie’s voice floats down the hall. “Leona, did you forget about your housewarden meeting?” He starts pounding on the door.

“I can hear you just fine, Ruggie. Quit yellin’. Gimme five minutes!”

The door flies open. “You say that every time I— oh?” Ruggie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Didn’t know you were here, (y/n). You’re looking way better than yesterday.”

“Hi, Ruggie,” you greet, giving him a tiny wave. “I’m guessing you brought me those things? Lazy bones over here would never.” 

“Oi!” Leona’s interjection goes ignored.

“Yeah, that was me. You were out cold when I came by, though,” he laughs, waving you off when you try to thank him. “Did you know you talk in your sleep?”

The question takes you by surprise. “Do I?”

“Yeah. Sounded like you were havin’ a wild dream. Something about Rook looking better with pink hair. Now that I’d love to see.”

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

You sit cross-legged on your bed with Leona’s book in your lap. He’d shoved it into your hands moments before kicking you out of his room so he could head to his meeting. 

“What’s this for?” you’d asked him.

“Do I really gotta spell everything out for you in crayon? Take it and get out before I change my mind.” 

Now, you stare at the tattered tome. It was an unfamiliar potionology textbook that definitely wasn’t on your school’s reference list. There are a few juvenile scribbles in the corner of the fly leaf: “FK” struck through by a few wobbly lines, followed by “LK”. 

You slowly flip through the pages, taking note of blocks of text underlined with fluorescent yellow as well as shaky bullet points hastily scratched into the margins. You occasionally come across scratched-out lines of writing. Only by straining your eyes are you able to make out phrases like “stupid Kifaji” and “Falena is a dumb-dumb.”

You eventually reach the page marked by Leona’s hair tie. The chapter heading screams at you: “COMMON ERRORS WHEN BREWING ADVANCED POTIONS.” 

You don’t spare it a second glance. Your eyes are fixed, rather, on the gold elastic between your fingers. It’s identical to the one currently on your wrist, the one you couldn’t bear to part with when you returned the remainder of Leona’s belongings. “He wouldn’t miss a single hair tie,” you’d told yourself. 

This one is different. This one had been on his wrist, likely because he’d intended to use it. Or perhaps, he’d already used it. 

You don’t think twice before bringing the band to your nose and inhaling deeply.

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

You are the first student to arrive at the laboratory the next morning. “Good morning, Professor.”

“Good morning to you, my most troublesome puppy.” You wince at his tone. Crewel’s brows are pinched together as he glares at you from behind his desk. Maybe if you had a tail, you’d tuck it between your legs and run back through the door. 

You approach the desk slowly, eying the way he casually spins his pointer in his hand. The relaxed, almost hypnotic motion is almost enough to put you at ease. Almost.

When you finally stand in front of him, only a few metres of desk space separating you, you gently place a pouch on the wooden surface. A soft clinking can be heard from within. 

“I cleaned your vials for you,” you begin, voice trembling. “Thank you for making those healing potions, and for taking care of me. I’m truly sorry for all the trouble I caused last class, and for anything I might have said to offend you while I wasn’t aware of what I was doing. I accept any discipline you deem necessary, sir.”

To your surprise, his gaze softens. With a deep sigh, he places the pointer on top of your peace offering and slides them both aside. As he leans forward, elbows perched on the desk and chin resting on his interlocked fingers, you hear the door open behind you. Footsteps and sleepy voices begin filling the lab. 

“Look at me, little one. Looking at one’s feet is not only an impolite habit, but also one that is bad for your posture.” You straighten up as he instructs. 

“Failure is a necessary step to success,” he continues. “I do sometimes wish you would fail a little less… spectacularly, but I will never begrudge you for these mishaps. Not when your diligence is so evident. You will try again today and you will succeed. You will bounce back, just as you always do.” He stands and turns his back to you, busying himself with the beakers on the nearby shelf. “Now cease this moping and hand out the lab books.”

You hand out the lab books as instructed.You help set up the apparatus. You greet your Savanaclaw classmate who is, as Leona predicted, no longer ribbiting. 

Professor Crewel is halfway through his instructions for today when a sluggish lion with a nasty bedhead strolls in, mouth wide open and teeth bared in the midst of a yawn.

“Twice in one week, Kingscholar.” Crewel glowers at Leona with his arms crossed. “I would praise you, if not for your tardiness.” 

“Please, don’t pause your lesson for me, teacher.” 

The professor pinches the bridge of his nose, watching as Leona all but drapes himself across the stool to your left. “Your disrespect knows no bounds. You ought to be collared and whipped some day.” Disgruntled though he may be, Crewel continues issuing his orders.

“Partner with me,” Leona murmurs from beside you. His groggy voice is deeper than you’re used to hearing it. You look up at him in confusion. 

“You’re willingly working with me? Is the sun gonna rise in the west next?”

“Who said anything about working?” He shoots you that grin, that wicked sneer that lets a gleaming fang peek out at you. You roll your eyes and look back to Crewel, to the apparatus in front of you, to the piles of ingredients up front, to the lab book beneath your drumming fingers... 

Anything to get your eyes off his mouth. 

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

Leona, indeed, had no intention of working. 

You call over to the beastman who has been leaning against the counter, silently watching your every move. “I only have two hands, Leona!” 

“That’s great news,” he responds. “Any more and I’d be worried.”

“Do you really not intend to help me?” 

“My presence in this boring class is already a huge gift. You should be singin’ my praises.”

“Careful there,” you warn. “You’re so full of yourself, I fear you might burst any second. One explosion was enough for this week.”

“Is this how you thank the guy whose books you’re studying from? Listen, kitten, my involvement here won’t do you a lick of good on your final.” His tone carries a sense of finality. “Now quit pesterin’ me.”

You recall the tips in Leona’s textbook and try your best to keep a steady hand. You pour the powdered chrysanthemums into the cauldron with your left hand while trying to maintain a consistent stir with your right. The white substance makes your nose itch a bit, but your nearby partner is the one who sneezes. You resist the urge to pour faster. 

You are so focused on your concoction that you don’t realise Leona is standing right beside you.

“This stuff stinks.” You jump, almost dropping the entire beaker into the cauldron. “Easy, scaredy cat. If you have to start over, it’ll take even longer for me to get lunch.”

“Don’t sneak up on me like that, then,” you hiss. “You can leave if you so badly want to. You’re not doing anything here anyway.”

“You hate my company or somethin’?” From the corner of your eye, you see him feign a pained expression. “And to think I was about to remind you that this is the part where you turn down the heat.”

“Shit.” 

“Don’t stop stirring.”

You do as he says. Of course you do. Leona disappears from beside you, crouching to cast a minor spell on the fire beneath the cauldron. You think that you briefly feel something brushing against your ankle, but when you look down, there’s nothing there. 

Perhaps you imagined it.

He stands a second later, this time right behind you so he can peer over your shoulder. You can feel the warmth oozing off of him and seeping into your skin, making your entire body tingle. 

“You need to be able to do all this stuff yourself,” chides Leona. “There are no partners in the exams.”

“I know, I know,” you huff. “It’s hard to focus on everything at once.”

“That’s your problem. You shouldn’t need to focus. You shouldn’t even need to be awake to change the size of a flame. That should come as easy as breathin’.”

“Easy for you to say,” you huff. “You probably learned how to do that when you were ten.”

“Seven.” You recall the childish scribbles in his book.

“Not the point!”

“Quit yammerin’ and just add your magic.” Leona reaches around your body to pull your magical pen from your pocket and places it into your free hand. “Keep a steady stirring rhythm with one hand and cast with the other. Slowly. If you channel too much at once like last time, it’ll blow up again.”

You try to calm your breathing. Steady. Steady. Steady. 

Slowly but surely, the potion begins taking on a pink colour, one that’s a lighter, more glittery shade of pink than the one you blew up.

“ ’N you made it seem so hard,” he grumbles, the feeling of his breath right against your ear making you shiver. “You only have one brain. Certain things need to be muscle memory so you can give your attention to the things that really matter.”

“I’m still sort of new to this whole magic thing, you know.”

“Is that the excuse you’re gonna keep throwin’ around for the rest of your life?” You look over your shoulder to glare at him, but he isn’t leveling you with the narrowed gaze you imagined he would. He isn’t even looking at you, but rather, at the fire near your feet. It goes out. “Done.”

“Are you now?” Crewel asks. How long has he been standing there? 

You rip yourself from your partner, stepping away from the cauldron and watching as Leona transfers the steaming potion into a reagent flask before handing it to the professor for inspection. He takes a few steps back, until he is beside you. 

Crewel holds the flask up to the light, gently swishing the pearlescent concoction around as he scrutinises its glimmer. He then waves some of the steam towards himself and takes a tentative sniff. He mumbles to himself for a few moments, and anxiety begins to sink its claws into you, but before it can do any real damage, your teacher turns back to you with a smile. “Well done. You’ve worked hard.”

“Thank you professor.” You accept the flask and stopper it, avoiding Crewel’s gaze for fear of him seeing the tears of relief welling in the corner of your eyes.

Leona yawns beside you. “So we’re done here, yeah?”

“It still requires testing,” the professor reminds him, slapping the pointer into his own palm. “I expect a full report by next week, so I suggest you begin.”

“Don’t worry, sir,” you reassure him. “We’ll use the rest of the class time to get started, right Leona? Leona?!”

The lion is already walking away, tail lazily swishing behind him. “My stomach’s growlin’. I’m heading out.”

“Disobedient cur! You may not leave until I have dismissed the class!”

But Leona’s already halfway through the door, holding two lab books instead of one.

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

“Have you truly managed to tame le Roi des lions?”

You look up at Rook from your hunched over position by the lab sink. It is not rare for the two of you to be the last ones left in the potionology lab. You turn the faucet off. “What are you on about now, Rook?”

The blond looks at you with that smile. The one that declares, I know something you don’t. The one that is so very Rook. “He does not bare his fangs at you.”

“You talk about him like he’s some savage beast that’s finally being domesticated.”

“I’m just saying he seems rather docile as of late.”

“Docile? Please.” You scoff, handing him the last of the beakers so he can dry it and put it away. “Lazy more like it.”

“Au contraire! He was rather agile when he thought you were in danger the other day.” He closes the cupboard doors and turns to face you. “Why, with the way he swept you off your feet, I dare say he is rather taken with you.”

You laugh. Truly laugh. Leona Kingscholar, taken with you? “Sweet merciful Seven, Rook— you have the wrong idea.”

“Have I?”

“You have. I can assure you that His Royal Highness, Prince Leonaof Sunset Savannah, would never be taken with someone like me. It’s not like that.”

“And I can assure you that I am an expert in this field,” he argues. “It seems you are too busy selling yourself short to see what I have been seeing.”

You roll your eyes, heaving open the heavy lab door and gesturing for him to follow you out. “It really isn’t what you think it is.” It can’t possibly be. Not when he’s him, and not when you’re you.

“Well enlighten me then, little Trickster. Tell me what really happened.”

You sigh. What a pain. “It’s simple. I fucked up my potion the way I always do. He’s got a sensitive nose, so he left the room to get away from the smell, but then Crewel forced him to take me to the infirmary. He only carried me so he could get it over with as quickly as possible.” 

“He stayed with you in the infirmary,” Rook says.

“Only because he wanted an excuse to skip his classes,” you defend. You pause in the middle of the corridor. “Wait. How do you know that?” You really shouldn’t be this surprised. It’s Rook.

“I was beside myself with worry for you,” he exclaims, dramatically closing his eyes and touching the back of his hand to his forehead. “As soon as I finished tidying the lab, I came to check on you, but Leona refused to let me in. He only unlocked the door when Professor Crewel arrived. He was being so protective, it made my heart flutter!”

You remember witnessing several instances of Vil scolding Rook for stalking Leona. “I somehow get the feeling that his refusal to let you in had less to do with me and more to do with you…”

Rook has an odd glimmer in his eye as he turns away from you. “Your suspicion isn’t entirely without reason, I’ll admit. Still, I can’t imagine that’s why he spent the night.” 

He walks away, the echo of his retreating footsteps now your only companion in this vast, empty hallway. 

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

The bleachers protect you from the afternoon sun and the unusually high wind. Over the past few weeks, you’ve learned to love the damp, grassy smell of the shady spot underneath the stands. It’s comfortable, quiet, and provides you with enough cover to see without being seen. 

Through the cracks between the stands, you can see Leona in the sky. It’s a more casual practice today; the boys are all wearing their PE uniforms instead of their spelldrive suits. Their leader flits back and forth, barking orders at the players and pointing out formations. 

Mean as he may sound right now, everyone knows that Leona cares about his boys. If he didn’t, he never would have pestered Vargas to add an extra hour of training every week. He wouldn’t show up early to prepare the equipment on his own so they can spend as much time warming up as possible. He wouldn’t have arranged for extra water coolers to be installed near the spelldrive field. 

You’ve never heard him say it, but he doesn’t need to: Leona indubitably loves his guys. 

And they love him too.

Leona belongs up there with them, where the golden rays of the setting sun act as his spotlight, where wind howls his praises, where the clouds and birds part for him. Leona belongs up there, where he is loved. Where he is king.

And you belong down here.

You watch as he gestures for a water break, sinking to the ground with the others until he is no longer in your line of vision. You close your eyes and lean against one of the columns that support the seating structure. 

The metal is cool against your head. You would take a nap if it weren’t for the magic jar of flames you held on your lap. It didn’t take long for you to figure out how to maintain the size of the flames without looking, but changing it still required your full attention. 

Perhaps you could practice now. Keep your eyes closed and slowly increase the size. Slow and steady. Steady stream of magic. Steady, steady...

“I should try napping here some day.”

Your shock at the sudden voice rips a scream from your throat, but you don’t hear it over the sound of your jar exploding. Your eyes fly open, and you find yourself surrounded by a protective barrier. You are unscathed, but several shards of glass are stuck to the other side of the barrier. 

Leona, who is crouched a mere few feet away from you, drops the shield and extinguishes the flames that have escaped the now shattered jar.

“Jumpy, kitten?” He grins at you. “Don’t let me interrupt your cat nap.” 

“You did that on purpose!”

“What’s with the jar?” 

“I was taking your oh-so-sagacious advice,” you huff. “I’m trying to manipulate flames without having to focus too hard.”

Leona laughs. He laughs at you. “And somehow, not only did you not hear me comin’, but this little distraction was enough to nearly burn down the school. You were focusin’ on it. Real hard, too.”

You cross your arms. “Shouldn’t you be in the sky right now?”

“Yeah, somethin’ like that.” He watches you with an uninterested expression as you levitate the shards and float them into a nearby trash can. “ ’s pretty hard to focus when you’re starin’ at me from down here, though.”

“I was not staring at you,” you lie.

He tilts his head, a questioning brow raised. “Someone else then? One of my guys?”

“What? No way!”

“Then why’re you here?”

“I... um...” You hesitate. Why are you here? “So you’ve already forgotten, haven’t you? We need to test this potion and write up a lab report. I’m here to make you do it as soon as your practice ends so we can get it out of the way.” You know that with a voice so shaky, he won’t believe you.

“Is that so?” He finally stands up, forcing you to look up at him from your seat on the grass. His gaze is sharp enough to pierce your very soul. “Maybe I’d buy that if this was your first doin’ this.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck— “How did you—”

“Sometimes, I wish my nose was as dull as yours.” To your surprise, Leona extends his arm, offering you a hand up. You begrudgingly take it, gasping at the ease with which he suddenly hauls you to your feet. 

“At first I thought it was that hunter pest,” he continues, “but the scent was different. Came to check one day during a water break and found you dozing off.”

“So all this time, you... why didn’t you say anything?”

“Cuz I didn’t care. You can’t do any harm if you’re snoozin’, so why waste my time trying to get rid of you?” Leona looks up at the handful of spelldrive players heading back up into the air. “Turn around.”

“What? Why?” You scrunch your face in confusion as though you’re not already almost backing him. You nearly jump right out of your skin and spin back around when you feel his hands in your hair. “What are you doing?!”

“Can you chill?” He sounds as though he’s holding something between his teeth. “I’m just makin’ sure the wind doesn’t blow your hair in your eyes while you’re up there.” He is surprisingly gentle with you, tenderly swooping any stubborn strands into a hair tie.

“Up there? The hell are you on about?! I don’t recall volunteering for a workout.”

“Ruggie’s absent today so there’s an odd number of players. I need it to be even for the next set of drills.” He tightens the elastic ever so slightly. “You’re lurking around here anyway, so you might as well be good for something. Too tight?”

“No...” You reach up and poke at the hair tie, the very one that was in Leona’s mouth a few seconds ago. You spin back around to glare at him. “No as in it’s not too tight and no as in I’m helping with your stupid drills.”

“You’ve played spelldrive during our PE classes,” he huffs.

“That doesn’t mean I’m good at it!” You swat at him in protest as he wraps his fingers firmly around your forearm and begins tugging you out of the shade. “Really, Leona, I’m a shit flyer.”

“Do you really think I’d take a ‘shit flyer’ into my sky to slow me down?” You shudder as you feel a chill run through you. You thought it might be from the way Leona narrowed his eyes at you, but then you look down to find yourself in your PE uniform. 

You don’t have time to start grilling the lion before he yells out to his team. “Oi! Someone get this cub a broom!” His gaze returns to you where you are practically stuck to his side with how close he’s tugged you. 

You definitely didn’t just try to discreetly sniff him. Certainly not. 

“Pair up with Epel,” he instructs. “And you better not let me catch you slackin’ off and slowin’ him down.”

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

The sun has already begun setting when Epel takes a swig from his water bottle before tossing it to you. “I thought you said you couldn’t fly, (y/n).”

“I said I wasn’t good at flying.” You pull your legs up onto your broom, sitting cross-legged. The movement makes the wooden length dip slightly lower. Your magic pours into it, keeping you afloat with a slight bounce as you unscrew the cap of Epel's bottle, not wanting to drink directly from the spout. 

He tilts his head. “Well, none of the bad flyers I know can fly like you.” You’ve never seen him grin like this. He’s so different now that he’s in his element. “Can you imagine Azul sitting on his broom so casually?”

“Shall I tell him you think he’s a bad flyer?” 

“No!” 

You can’t help but snicker at his panicked expression. “Relax, I’m just kidding.” You thank him for the water as you throw his bottle back to him.

“Anyway, your flying is fine. You’re not nearly as fast as any of us—”

“Hey!”

“—B-but your technique isn’t too shabby!” He gives you a pensive look. “Actually, your magic seems a lot more stable than what Rook let on.”

Your magic? Stable? Does this guy even hear himself? “Does Rook talk about me a lot or something?”

“Only when you blow stuff up,” he snorts. “Which seems to be often. Looks like you’ve recovered from the last time, though. Pretty quickly too… He said you would.”

“Did he now?”

“Yeah. That’s why I was scared to partner with you at first. You blew up the lab, slept for only two days, and now you’re up here on a broom looking for even more trouble. I thought you’d lose control and blow me up next! I should have trusted Leona’s judgement. Sorry for underestimating you.”

You follow him in steering the handle of your broom downward to begin your slow descent. You can’t help but tease him a little. “Do you speak to all your seniors so bluntly or is it just me?”

“Only the ones that aren’t as prickly as Vil.”

Leona’s rough voice cuts off your retort. “Hurry up and get down here! And uncross your legs or you’ll start cramping.” 

“Geez…” You hop off the broom and let it clatter to the earth. “You’re even bossier out here.”

“Says the one huntin’ me down to write a damn lab report,” he grumbles. 

“Quiet, you,” you hiss, turning your back to him and facing Epel, who raises his brows at your exchange.

“You two have Alchemy together?”

“Potionology,” you correct. You can’t help but place a hand on the boy’s head of windswept lavender hair. “And I gotta make lazy bones do his homework. See ya around.”

“Who're you callin’ lazy?” huffs Leona as you begin walking away from the field. “I all but dragged you into the sky.”

“Hah! I’m surprised someone like you ended up in such an active sport.” You sigh. “Now I’m stinky and gross, just like you.”

“Got any more adjectives you wanna throw at me?”

“Got a whole bunch,” you declare. Forceful but thoughtful, lazy but intelligent, mean but so hilariously witty, moody but tenacious, delectably alluring… “We'd be here all night if I start listing them, though, so I’ll spare you.”

“I rejoice at your merciful benevolence,” he mocks. 

“I’m going back to my dorm to shower.” You begin sliding your bag off your shoulder. “Here. Take the potion to Savanaclaw.”

“Waste of time. Just shower at Savanaclaw.”

You look at him as though he's grown a second head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You’re the one who's in a hurry to do the report. Housewarden bathrooms have pretty good hot water too, ya know.”

Showering in Leona Kingscholar’s bathroom… 

His face maintains its indifferent expression, but the glint in his eye tells you: he knows he just caught his prey.

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

Leona was right. The water is really hot. Maybe you’d enjoy it more if you weren’t so focused on preventing your pounding heart from bursting out of your ribcage.

You are in Leona’s shower. Leona Kingscholar’s shower. You’re in his shower, washing your hair with his shampoo, scrubbing your flesh with his body wash… It almost feels like he's claiming you.

In a sense he already has. Loathe you are to admit it, your heart has already belonged to Leona for a long time. You close your eyes and tilt your face upwards, as though you hope the hot water against your face will melt away these ludicrous feelings.

That’s exactly what they are. Ludicrous. You’ve long accepted the fact that Leona would never settle for someone like you. For all you know, he might already be betrothed to a person of his family’s choosing. Perhaps a master potionologist, or maybe a spelldrive player with worlds of potential.

Even if he wasn’t a prince, he would still be deserving of someone better than you. Someone stronger. Smarter. Funnier. Better.

There is simply no space for you in his sky. 

The sooner you get rid of this foolish crush, the better. 

Right now, though, you indulge your fantasies by thumbing at his towel, which is hanging beside the clean one he gave you. Side by side like that, they make this bathroom seem like a shared domestic space for the two of you. The thought alone makes your heart prance.

How absurd.

You hurriedly dry off before changing into the clothes he lent you. It’s the same set as last time. Your face scrunches in concentration as you magically resize the pants, but you leave the shirt as it is. It feels more like him this way. Like you are being held by him. Like you belong to him. 

You do. Every single part of you belongs to him.

The three golden hair ties on the bathroom counter glimmer at you mockingly, as though to say, “This is the only part of him that will ever belong to you.” 

You roughly tug all three back onto your wrist, branding yourself with Leona. You can’t stay here wallowing forever. He was nice enough to let you clean up first, but you know his patience is finite.

Leona is seated in an armchair by the window. His head is thrown back and his eyes are closed. His legs are, as usual, spread wide open. He is so serene that you might have thought he was asleep were it not for the jar in his hands. He toys mindlessly with it, rolling it between his large palms. 

“Finally done?” He cracks open his eyes. “Surprised you didn’t scald your skin off..”

“Do you always sit with one knee in the Shaftlands and the other in the Queendom of Roses?”

He snorts before standing and sauntering over to you. “Not shrinking the shirt?”

“It’s comfy loose.” He only hums in response. “By the way… you changed my clothes pretty easily earlier. Why didn’t you do that the other night?”

“Crewel told me not to. Somethin’ about too much magic workin’ on your body at once not being good for you. Plus…” A fang peeks out at you as he steps closer to you. “With the state you were in, I didn’t know how you’d react if you woke up in some guy’s clothes. Didn’t want you gettin’ the wrong idea.”

You can’t stop your face from heating up. You try your best to change the topic. “Where are the lab books? I’ll head them up while you shower.”

“You’ll do more than that,” he states, handing you the jar. “Work on your flames while you do it.”

“I…” You stare at the jar in your hands as though you’re afraid it might bite you. “I’m not sure I can do that yet.”

“Pretend you’re flying.”

“Huh?”

Leona crosses arms with a sigh. “You are not dense, and your magic is not unstable. You just think too damn much. 

“I watched you today. You can channel into a broom just fine, even when you’re having conversations or drinkin’ water. So just channel into the fire while you write. It’s the same thing.”

“It’s not the same thing, Leona—”

“It is,” he interrupts. “Quit overthinkin’ it. If you want a bigger flame, imagine you’re climbin’ the sky. Want it smaller? Descend. Want it out? Land your broom. It’s the same shit. It’s not difficult, you just need to trust yourself.”

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter.

“Most things are. Now get to work.”

With that, he disappears into his bathroom, leaving you alone in his room. You roll the jar around in your hands just as you had seen him do. You take a deep breath. 

Too much magic will shatter the glass. Too little will snuff the flame. 

Leona wasn’t wrong. Having your broom in your mind’s eye makes controlling the flame a lot easier. You take a few moments to establish a rhythm of bigger, then smaller, then bigger again. 

Up and down and up and down. Once you got used to it, you closed your eyes. Don’t think too hard, just fly.

You eventually settle into the chair Leona just vacated. You place the lab books on your lap and the jar on the arm of the chair. Two tasks at once. You’ve headed up so many lab books that it no longer requires concentration. You try to remind yourself that writing while wielding is just like chatting while flying.

You’re almost done with the books when a “Leona, I’m back!” sounds from down the hall. Before you can rise from your seat, Ruggie enters without knocking, carrying a large paper bag. You hadn’t realised how hungry you were until you smelled the savoury aroma wafting into the room. He stops in his tracks. “Ah! You’re here.”

“Hey,” you greet. “Leona’s still in the shower.”

He makes his way over to the dresser with a hum. “I’ll just leave his dinner over here then.” He mutters something about the messy dresser and a lost uniform button under his breath. He busies himself with hastily tidying up the area. It’s quiet for a while before briefly pauses his work to peer into the bag, eyebrows slightly raised. “Ya know, I thought it was weird that the extra sandwich he ordered had vegetables in it. Guess that’s for you.”

“For me?” And Leona was the one to order it for you?

“Why do you sound so surprised? You’re filling the guy’s lab book. The least he can do is feed you.” He spares you a quick glance over his shoulder. “He’s not a stingy employer, ya know. I eat on his dime everyday.”

Your gaze narrows. “He’s not my employer.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Employees don’t make a habit outta wearin’ their bosses’ clothes. What are you, then?” He snickers at the expression on your heating face as you search for another topic.

“I hope you didn’t miss practice just to run errands for him.” You join him at the dresser, watching as he sews a button back onto Leona’s jacket. You hold the jar of flames a little above his hands so he can see his project a little better. “I’d be really pissed at him if you did, even if he fed you.”

“Relax,” he laughs. “Jack and I took the afternoon off to handle something down at the port. He didn’t go to his club’s practice either. Hey…” he pauses to examine the jar in your hand for a moment. “Thanks for the light, but… why do you have that?”

“Leona’s helping me with my magic. I have to keep resizing this flame until I develop a magical muscle memory.” 

“Since when does he go out of his way to play tutor?”

You huff. “No clue. He’s being really prickly about it too. I don’t know how you deal with someone so bossy.” 

“Hah!” He finishes his work on the button and bites through the thread. “That’s Leona. Guess he’s demanding even when he’s tryna be nice to his girlfriend.” 

You barely manage to prevent your jar from exploding again. “Don’t be ridiculous,” you hiss. “I’m not his girlfriend.” 

“Oh?”

“You better not let anyone hear you say that. What would people think?”

“What would people think?” 

They'd think the blot made him lose his fucking mind. You can’t say that out loud.

Ruggie’s dramatic sigh fills the silence that stretches between you. “Listen, I don’t really care what your relationship is, as long as you come ‘round more often. You don’t seem too bad. Maybe you’ll be a good influence on his lazy ass.”

The bathroom door creaks open before you can respond. Leona glares daggers at the two of you. You wonder how much of that he heard. You would probably be a little scared if you weren’t busy ogling him. He’s shirtless.

“You’re yippin’ a lot today, Ruggie,” he grumbles, using a towel to soak up the water in his hair.

“And maybe you oughta listen for once.” Ruggie puts his hands on his hips. “I’m glad the prefect is getting you to actually do your homework, but you better pull your weight. If you make her do everything, she’ll get sick of you real fast.” With that, he heads towards the door. “Your food’s here, so I’m heading to bed,” he calls over his shoulder. “Don’t stay up all night and end up skipping tomorrow.”

The door clicks softly and you are suddenly alone with Leona. 

“He cares about you.”

“He cares about staying fed,” he responds as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“No,” you argue. “He cares about you. And you care about him too.”

“I don’t. Now stop saying weird shit. We have to get this over with so you can get out of my damn hair.”

“I need to snuff this before we start,” you say, nodding to the magic jar of flames. 

“Why?”

“Because if I lose control of it when I drink that gross stuff, I’ll end up incinerating your room and your beloved bed.” By the time your tiny fire is out, he’s tugged on a beige long-sleeved shirt, similar in style to the one you’re wearing.

His tail takes up a lazy motion as he moves around his room. He hangs the damp towel on a hook, then grabs the bag of food and all but flings himself onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh. “Get the potion and c’mere.” 

You waste no time in following his instructions. You want to get this over with as quickly as possible. You’ve already inserted yourself into so much of his space and taken up so much of his time. It’s best not to push your luck. You stand at the foot of his bed with his textbook and your two lab books stacked, the glimmering potion resting on top of them.

He sits cross-legged and pulls two sandwiches out of the bag, looking at you expectantly. You stare back at him.

“Why’re you just standin’ around? Get down here.”

“On the bed?” You look at him like he’s insane.

“Got a problem with my bed?”

“No! I just… Are you sure it’s alright?”

“Don’t make me scruff you and bring you here myself, kitten.”

“Alright, alright!” You sit on the edge of the bed, hesitantly at first. He simply keeps eying you, clearly dissatisfied, until you eventually scoot closer, crossing your legs to mirror him. Your two pairs of knees are almost touching. 

He looks down at the pile on your lap. “Why’d you bring that back here?” he asks, tapping the spine of his textbook with his index finger. 

“To return it?” You give him an incredulous look. “It’s yours.”

“I mastered everything in there already. I got no use for it.”

“Don’t you want to keep it in your family?” 

He scoffs as though it’s the most ludicrous thing he’s ever heard. “You really take me for some kinda sentimental family man? Just keep it.” He hands you one of the sandwiches. 

“How did you know I like this one?” you query.

“Since you’re so damn good at interrogations, you’ll come up with the questions for the testin’.”

“That’s not fair!”

“Just leanin’ into your strengths,” he says, grinning at you with a mouth full of Sam’s Deluxe Meat sandwich. 

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

Actually drinking the potion is always the most frightening step. 

The first step didn’t take long. You just had to come up with a set of questions with answers that can easily be proven. When’s your birthday? Do you have siblings? Is the headmage’s first name Dire? What time is it right now? Are you currently a student at Night Raven College? Can you name all the housewardens? So on and so forth…

The next step was equally simple: lie to each other with a combination of one-worded responses and longer explanations. You choose a random date for your fake birthday. Leona tells you he is the third of four siblings. You say the headmage’s name is Leona. (This earns you a scoff and an eyeroll.) He calls a random time without looking at the clock. You claim to be studying at Noble Bell. 

Now though…

“Maybe we should continue tomorrow, Leona.”

“Just drink the potion, scaredy cat.”

You stare at the pink liquid. It shimmers as though it’s staring right back at you. You really, really, do not want to drink it. 

It will most definitely taste awful, and it will probably stew your brain for a second, but that’s not what frightens you. What if it fails? Or worse, what if it works too well, like the last one. What if it forces you to say something you’ll regret?

Leona plucks the flask out of your hand, tearing you from your thoughts. “You bugged me to do this and now you’re the one hesitating? You never know what you really want, huh?” He throws his head back and downs half of the potion. 

Exactly half. Is there anything this guy isn’t good at?

He grimaces as though he just sucked on a lemon. His nose scrunches and he shakes his head, a motion that is so cat-like that you half-expect him to meow. He hands you the reminder of it. “Your turn.”

Your anxiety spikes. “Surely only one of us has to test it, right? Plus, it’d be awful if something were to go wrong and we both ended up—”

“Do I need to force-feed you again?”

“No!” 

You do your best to steel your nerves, pinch your nose and toss the concoction back, immediately grateful that half of your sandwich is still there for you. It doesn’t do enough to kill the taste.

For a moment, you and Leona just sit there. 

Then it crashes into you.

You force your gaze down to the now empty bottle; looking anywhere else makes your head spin. 

Neither of you says anything, but the room is suddenly so loud. The crickets outside suddenly sound like they’re inside your ears. The lights seem to be buzzing. You can hear Leona breathing. You can smell him too. 

Your pulse pounds at the base of your throat, and little shocks of electricity dance through your veins, spreading to every inch of your body and making you buzz.

You can hear and smell and feel so much, too much. Your cheeks feel wet. Are you… crying? You swipe at your face but your palm comes back dry. 

Wait. Did it even connect? You didn’t feel it. Try again.

A breeze passes through the room and pulls you back to reality, back to Leona’s bed.

You take a few shaky breaths before you look up at Leona. His corners of his lips are pulled downwards, and his ears…

Do his ears always twitch like that?

“Come back to me.”

“Huh?” You lock eyes with him, swiping at your cheek again. Still dry. You just imagined it.

“Are you back?” Leona’s grip tightens around your knee and shakes it gently. When did he start touching you? “You spaced out.” 

His tail lashes back and forth wildly behind him as though it has a mind of its own. Is he… worried?

“I’m okay now.” Your throat feels dry and raw. “I’m just a little sensitive to these things.”

“Does that always happen?”

“Not always. Usually only the ones that mess with your brain, and it only lasts a few seconds. Do you have water?”

Leona wordlessly stretches over to his nightstand, yanking the drawer open to reveal several bottles of water. He grabs two before letting his magic flow from his fingers to cool them. The two of you sip as you silently watch his tail flick back and forth hypnotically. Your curiosity gets the best of you.

“Is the potion messing with your ears and tail?”

“Yeah.” He traps his tail under his thigh, using his weight to keep it in check. “Bugs all the beastmen. You feelin’ good enough to start?”

“Yeah.” You drain the remainder of your water and put the bottle on the floor, along with the empty flask. “Shoot.”

“When’s your birthday?” he begins.

The truth flies out of your mouth before you can even consider lying. “Guess it works. Do you have any siblings?”

“Yes.” He pauses for a few moments. “ ‘s not forcin’ me to elaborate. Is the headmage’s first name Dire?”

You try to say “His first name is not Ashton,” which is technically the truth, but the potion is not satisfied with this. “It is.” You hum in contemplation and jotting down a quick note. 

“I want to try something, Leona. Don’t look at the clock. What time is it right now?”

“I don’t know. Can’t tell the truth if I don’t know it.” 

“Can you estimate?”

“I could if I wanted to.” Then nothing.

“Estimate.” 

“No.”

“Don’t estimate.”

“Eight thirty.” 

You glance at the clock on the wall behind Leona. Eight forty-seven. “Not bad, you stubborn ass.” You quickly jot down a few notes into your lab book. “It doesn’t force you to follow any orders and you don’t have to explain anything as long as you answer the question that was asked. Can I try something else? You're allowed to say no.”

He offers you a look of intrigue. “You can.”

“Tell me what you're thinking about.”

Leona doesn’t respond.

“Can you tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I can. But I won’t.” Of course.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Your ends are dry and your roots are a little puffy. You should use oil.”

“Rude.”

“You’re the one who forced me to say it!”

“And I’m glad I did,” you huff. “The potion’s working exactly as intended. Let’s hurry up and get this over with.”

The rest of the questions pass without issue, and before you know it, you're lying on your tummies side by side, quietly filling the pages of your lab books.

You suddenly remember something. “Shit. We forgot to start a timer so we can see how long the effects last.”

“We didn’t. I started it just before you started trippin’ balls.” He shows you the screen of his phone. Sure enough, a timer is running: 00:37:15. 

“Do you think Idia’s family makes a tonne of these potions?”

“I don’t know what that radish sprout and his freaky family get up to. Don’t wanna know either.”

You laugh a little and glance over at him. You are about to playfully scold him for not having written much when you notice that his pupils are blown wide, locked onto the magestone of your pen. You give it a few experimental flicks. Sure enough, his eyes follow every movement and his tail thrashes excitedly behind him. You can’t help but tease him. “Aww, who’s a good kitty?”

Leona jolts, seemingly only now realising what he has been doing. “Shut up,” he growls, wrapping his tail around his leg to keep it still.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell— ow!” You drop your pen. Three of Leona’s fingers press down on your wrist to soothe the spot he just stung by pulling on the hair tie (his hair tie). “The fuck was that for?”

“I couldn’t help it.” His ears flatten against his head. “That must have hurt. I forgot how strong these are. Sorry.”

“If not for the circumstances, I might not have believed that.”

He continues rubbing small circles on your wrist, and you don’t pull away. “You like collecting these as bracelets or somethin’?”

A yes escapes your lips despite your attempt to stop it. “They’re really pretty,” you add, telling some of the truth before he can ask why and force all of it out of you. “Where did you get them?”

“They’re made in Sunset Savannah. We get the latex from a special kind of tree that doesn’t grow in this part of Twisted Wonderland. It’s that high quality stuff, so it stretches far without breakin’ or losin’ its shape. ‘S why it snaps back so hard.”

“Must be really expensive,” you note. “Do you want them back?”

“No.” You flinch when his voice suddenly comes at you a little rougher than usual. “I've got more than I can count. What’s with you and tryin’ to return all my gifts? Do you do this to everyone?”

Gifts? “Yes… Are you angry?”

“I’m not.” His voice softens just a tad. “I just don’t get you. You just said that you like them, so why’re you givin’ em back?”

“Because I don’t deserve them.” 

For a moment, he just stares at you with an expression that you can’t decipher. His brow creases as he frowns, but this isn’t his usual scowl. “You really believe that’s true.” It’s not a question.

“Maybe we should stop here for tonight, Leona.” You sit upright and try to pull away from him, but his grip on your wrist tightens. “Let go.”

“Don’t leave.”

“Let go, Leona.”

“Stay,” he insists. “Let’s talk.”

“Why?”

“Cuz I like it when you’re here.” 

His words bounce around in your head a few times before you manage to make sense of them. When you finally do, you still can’t think of a response. He winces under your blank stare as though the realisation of what he just said physically pains him.

When you break the silence, it is with a sense of finality, with an absolute certitude. “You don’t mean that.” 

“How can you say that when you know I can’t lie?” he argues.

“Because someone like you isn’t supposed to like anything about someone like me.” Your final attempt at yanking yourself from his grip is successful. You crawl backwards to the other end of his bed, burning under his glower. 

You seem to have offended him.

“Why? Cuz I’m a prince?”

“Because you’re you!” you blurt out in exasperation. “You’re you and I’m me. You’re not even supposed to acknowledge someone like me, much less enjoy my company.”

“Please, do go on,” he bites out. “Tell me all about what I'm supposedto do. I really don’t get you, (y/n).”

“And I don’t get you. Why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?”

“The same reason you’ve been following me around school like a cub without a pride, all year long, thinkin’ I don’t know you’re there.”

Yeah right. “I am not a prideless cub. And what do you mean, ‘the same reason?’ You don’t even know why I did that. For all you know, Rook could have taken me under his wing.”

He doesn’t smirk at your joke. His ears swivel, but his serious gaze is fixed on you. “I know the truth.” 

That’s not true. That can’t be true. Perhaps he believes it’s true, but it isn’t. Even if he really knew, he wouldn’t be able to lie and say that he likes you too. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. “You don’t,” you insist, more to yourself than to him.

“You told me in the infirmary.”

Mortification swallows you whole. “But you said—”

“I lied.”

You blank. For a moment, there’s nothing.

Then there’s too much. Your eyes sting and your vision blurs. He knows. 

He knows you have a crush on him. He knows and he just pretends that he doesn’t. He knows and he just lets you keep pretending that you don’t love him. He was probably laughing at you the whole time. He was playing with you. 

He was amusing himself at your expense.

“Y/n.” He reaches for you, but flinches when you pull away. “You’re… crying?”

“I suppose I am.” You try to keep your voice steady, try to appear strong. You fail miserably, though, mentally cursing the burning tears that keep escaping no matter how hard you try to imprison them behind your lashline. “People tend to do that when you play with their feelings.”

“I wasn’t playing with your—”

“Then what were you doing?!” you snap. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why did you play this game of pretend?”

“I was waitin’ for ya to work up the courage to tell me on your own and actually remember it.” He says it as though it’s the most obvious thing in Twisted Wonderland.

“Why? So you can laugh at me out loud instead of in your head?”

“So I can tell you that I love you too!”

The flames nipping at your head and making you feel faint doesn’t die down, but a dull ache blooms beneath your ribs. You feel like both your brain and your throbbing heart are about to explode. It's just a matter of which goes boom first. “Leona, you don’t—”

“I do (y/n). I’ve been telling you and you don’t hear it. I’ve been showing you and you don’t see it.” He drags a large palm across his face with an exhausted sigh, ears flat against his scalp. “Even now, when I literally have no choice but to be truthful… is it really so hard to believe me?”

“It is.” Your cracked voice is barely audible. 

He reaches for you. “C’mere…”

This time you don’t pull away. 

You let him haul you into his lap, back pressed against his chest. One hand reaches around to thumb at stray tears on your cheek, but the other simply holds you there, just like the first time he held you outside the lab a few days ago. He rests his chin on your shoulder and presses his cheek against your face and neck, nuzzling you more gently than you thought he would.

For a while, you just sit there. The only noise in the room is the steady thump thump thump of Leona’s rebellious tail tapping the mattress. 

“Wish you could see what I see,” he finally murmurs into the side of your throat. 

“What do you see?”

“Someone really fucking hot when they straddle a broom.” He stiffens before groaning in embarrassment. “Shit. Sorry. Wasn’t s’posed to say that out loud just yet.”

This pulls a giggle from your lips. 

“You are insanely pretty. But you’re kind. Funny. Strong.”

“I’m not strong.”

“You are,” he insists. “Might not get everything right the first time. Or anything, actually…”

“Not helping me feel better.”

He huffs into your flesh before continuing. “You’re diligent, though. Even if it takes a little push sometimes, you get back up. You got no clue how good it feels to watch you bounce back. And, fuck, that mouth of yours. Sometimes I wanna argue with you all day just to hear what you’ll come up with. Just to hear your voice…” 

The thumping stops. His tail comes around to latch onto your thigh.  His arms tighten around you. “Tell me what to say and I’ll say it. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to get it in your lil head that I love you.”

“I love you, Leona.”

“I know, kitten. But you gotta let me love you too. Gotta quit pushin’ me away…”

You shift in his lap, looking at him over your shoulder. “I’ll try but… these things take time, Leona.”

“Good thing I’m a patient guy,” he responds. “I’ll wait as long as it takes. I’m in no rush.”

“Are you—”

“I’m sure.”

“Very, well then.” You turn around fully to face him with a small smile. “I’ll do my best. Now let’s get the rest of this assignment out of the way.”

Leona’s sigh is almost pained. “Thought you finally forgot about that.”

°︵‿︵࿔.♡.࿔︵‿︵°

Savanaclaw is fucking freezing in the wee hours of the morning. Good thing Leona has a fancy comforter. 

The first rays of sunshine bounce off the shimmering elastics that circle your wrist, ordering you to rise. You roll onto your side to look for Leona. He’s still sprawled on his chair, where he had insisted he’d be fine for the night. “What’re you reading?” you question with a breathy and hoarse voice.

“It’s about trade routes,” he responds, voice equally raspy. He locks eyes with yours. “Found it in a thrift shop a while back. I can lend it to you, if you want.”

“Leona, did you sleep?”

“I’m about to.” 

“But we have class.”

“Relax,” he drawls. “We don’t have Potions til this afternoon.”

You slowly sit up, pulling the heavy comforter further up your body. “What about History and Astrology? Are you really going to cut class?”

“Probably.” He closes the book and places it on the ground. “Unless Ruggie starts badgerin’ me.”

“Maybe I should call him right now then.”

“I’m rethinking my decision to keep you here…” Leona stretches with a loud yawn, the hem of his shirt riding up slightly. “Still got a couple hours til the first bell. I can get in a quick nap.”

You sigh and lie back down, knowing there’s no use in arguing. “Well hurry up and come to bed so you can make the most of it.” 

Leona makes no move to stand from the chair. “You sure you want me in there with you?” 

“I might freeze to death otherwise,” you quip.

The next thing you know, the mattress is sinking under his weight as he climbs under the sheets with you, mumbling out a quiet, “C’mere.”

“That didn’t take much convincing,” you joke as he pulls you closer to him, pressing his chest against your back. “Were you itching to snuggle, kitty?”

“Says the one using me as a heater,” he murmurs into your shoulder. His breath is warm and the vibrations of his groggy voice dance across your flesh. “Go back to sleep. You’ll need the rest.”

“What for?”

“There’s no practice for the boys today. I want you to fly with me.”