Hi Hi! Krys is the name! || 28 || Female || Bisexual || Fav Fandom: JJBA, Hypmic, Genshin Impact, Obey Me, and Overwatch || Hobby: Drawing and making comics (sometimes)
⋆. 𐙚 ˚𝓘 like to think that Yuu has the tendency to make nicknames to make it easier to memorize names.
As a person who struggles with memory, making nicknames is the only remedy to my problem, so if you guys know me, I'm gonna project this to Yuu and imagine how the twst cast will react to this cuz why not?
Whether it's a punishment by whatever deity is up there or if you have a personal problem. But memorizing names are hard for you, so you would make nicknames for people on the spot to help you remember their names. You would always make a nickname, even if the name only has one syllable, you will find a way.
Now: Ace is now Acey, Deuce is now Deu, (which vaguely sounds like dew) Cater is now Cate, Trey is now Rey, Riddle is now Rid, Leona is now Leo, Ruggie is now Rugs, Jack is now Jackie, Azul is now Zulie, Jade is now Jay, Floyd is now Floy, Kalim is now Kal, Jamil is now Jamie, Epel is now Eps, Rook is now Rookie, Vil is now Vivi, Idia is now Id, Ortho is now Orie/Ory, Malleus is now Mal, Lilia is now Lils, Silver is now Sil, and Sebek is now Sebie.
You have assigned them all a nickname whether they like it or not.
Ace at first was very against it because it sounded like you were mocking him, but after softening up to you he'll start to like the nickname and whenever he speaks in third person he'll use your nickname to address himself like: "aw do you need Acey to help you?" Or "don't worry Acey will protect you prefect"
Deuce likes his nickname, he actually has an emotional attachment to it but will never tell you because it's embarrassing. At first his reaction to the nickname was being getting all blushy because he doesn't have a nickname y'know? So now that he does he values it like a sentimental piece of blanket, he melts whenever you greet him using his nickname.
Cater is used to it, he has a nickname already so what makes yours any different? But after adjusting and getting used to you, he now finds it endearing— unlike his usual Cay-cay, the nickname he uses to project his fake self to the world, to hide his actual unfiltered self. He finds yours comforting because to you, he's Cate, he's your friend, he's the person you laugh with and not the person who you see in your screen. Later on, he asks you to keep your nickname in private and not in social media. Why? Because he's gotten too soft on that nickname of yours to let go.
Trey is surprised but in a pleasant way, he's never gotten a nickname before, so getting one is kind of a new experience to him. He's allot like Deuce but the only difference is that he's not flustered at the thought, he appreciates it. Hearing you say "Rey" when addressing him always puts a small soft smile on his face, even if he's going through a bad day, a simple "hey Rey! How are you?" Brightens up his day.
Riddle at first was repulsed at the nickname because of how informal it was, he basically scolded you and asked (screamed) you to refrain from using it. Before his overblot he'll physically twitch his eyes or have a frown on his face when you slip up and call him by his nickname. But after his overblot, he'll be allot more softer than before and actually likes it now. He's never gotten a nickname, so after wincing at his past self for being so harsh he'll start to encourage you to use it, and if you do start to use it on him he'll get smiley and positive significantly. People in his dorm will notice how he's in a good mood every time you call him by his nickname and uses it to their advantage; Ace and Deuce calls you whenever they get in trouble.
Leona doesn't like it at first. He's many things, he's the second prince, he's a housewarden, but he's definitely not "Leo" so he'll ignore you when you call him by that nickname until you do remember his name and call him by that. But after some time, he'll actually like it. (this has become quite a theme for the housewardens) He still does ignore you when you call him, he still scoffs when you call him by that nickname, he still protest. But now there's a softer edge to it: he'll flick his tail and his mouth twitches as if to supress a smile now, he'll scoff but he smirks while doing it instead of frowning, and he protests but it's never sharp, it's always a weak "I told you to stop that dumb nickname, herbivore" with a slight smile.
Ruggie is indifferent about it at the beginning. He's been called many things back home, it's always sharp and insulting. But your nickname isn't that at all, so he kinds of squirms at how endearing it is. However after quite some time, he'll start to smile when he hears that familiar "hello Rugs!" He'll start to snicker when you pout at him and whine his nickname out, he'll start to get giddy when he gets called Rugs. He'll even share it to his grandma in hopes she'll start using it on him too, congrats! You have a nickname sharer now!
Jack is all grumpy and huffy at it first but exposure therapy gets to him and it starts to mess with him. His tail wags a bit when you greet him with that familiar "hey Jackie!" When you see him jogging by the Ramshackle, his ears slightly move to the sound of your voice when you shout his nickname in a crowd. The difference is small, but it's there.
Azul is used to it. Being stuck with Floyd all his childhood made him comfortable around nicknames, even after Floyd started to use his name to address him. However, if you acquire the title as friends, your nickname starts to feel more personal and it makes him kind of mushy on the inside whenever it escapes your mouth. If you ever get mad at him your usual punishment for him is using his real name instead of "Zulie" and it makes him very worked up, it workes on your favor though in petty situations.
Jade finds it interesting and makes comments how you and Floyd are kind of similar because you two use nicknames instead of names to call people. He kind of observes with amusment whenever he gets called "Jay" it's akin to a toddler looking at insects in interest. After some time, it'll shift into something more comfortable rather than quiet scientific amusment. It's quite subtle but it's there if you squint hard enough.
Floyd is very ecstatic and happy, because duh, another person just like him! He especially loves his nickname and wears it like a badge, whenever you two greet eachother it's like watching two children bonding over their shared interest on stars, it's very endearing that sometimes they forget that this is Floyd, the human squeezing machine who doesn't know the word personal boundaries. If you ever start to use his real name and not "Floy" he'll actually get sad and immediately tries to fix whatever problem it is that he caused, he's similar to Azul but the difference is that he's more desperate than him.
Kalim is also another person who loves it wholeheartedly! He doesn't have nicknames unfortunately so hearing someone use one on him makes him beam, he encourages you into using them and even tries to spread propaganda to everyone in the school to use it one him. Thankfully Jamil put a stop in it and diminished the thoughts. However some students do slip up and calls him "Housewarden Kal" and they take it back so fast, but when they glance at him they'll see how he'll physically get brighter. Safe to say he loves "Kal" better than Kalim.
Jamil is nonchalant about it pre-overblot. He gets called allot of things like: servant boy, Kalim's servant and more degenerate names. So he'll just let you use that nickname on him because it's not insulting so why not? However, overtime as you become friends with him, he'll harbor a bond over that stupid "Jamie" though it's a small difference: he'll have a small smile on his lips when you greet him, he'll slip up occasionally and calls you a nickname when you two are in the Scarabia kitchen alone, (although if you tease him about it he'll gaslight you into thinking he didn't) and he doesn't let Kalim call him that. That's literally the only thing that he owns, so he's very protective over it.
Epel is taken a-back at first when you said "can I call you Eps instead? I can't remember names all that much" he just agreed with a confused but also slightly shocked face. He doesn't like it at first because he thinks that nicknames are "too cute" and he doesn't want that, he pushes you to create a more 'manly' nickname or better yet his own name! But y'know after he gets enlightened by Vil, he'll start to appreciate his nickname allot more. He doesn't let other people use his nickname because it's sacred to him, like how he calls his grandma memaw. Best believe he's gonna defend it fiercely, he'll even engage in a few fist fights because of it.
Rook is absolutely delighted. He's a person who finds beauty in everything so of course he'll find beauty in it! All through out your friendship he gets excited whenever you shout for him in a crowd, or when you shout "Rookie!" When you see him stalking you and your friends.
Vil just sighs and let's you do what you want, I mean he calls you potato of all things, so it's just fair you make a nickname for him too. But overtime he'll be one of the boys who softens up to the nickname, he loves it actually. The Pomefiore students sometimes think that you guys are more than friends because you two have nicknames for eachother, whether you and him shut down the claims are up to you.
Idia doesn't like it when you first proposed the nickname to him— he thinks that nicknames are only reserved for close people, and the only person who's ever been close to him is Ortho. Best believe he'll be against it at first, but he doesn't really say it to you because he's shy at first. Overtime when you become friends, he'll start to treat it as how he treats his own nickname made by Ortho. He'll get used to it don't worry.
Another person who likes it is Ortho! Ortho doesn't have a nickname unfortunately; he's the type of person who makes nicknames but other people won't make nicknames for him. So he'll very much appreciate it! He's allot like Kalim in this aspect. He'll even make a nickname for you, so he can shout it return when you shout his nickname in a crowded hallway looking for him.
Malleus is a special case because he has two nicknames, his first nickname was when you didn't know his name and opted to call him tsunotarou, but when you learned his name you also started to use "Mal" you would rotate the two nicknames constantly. He thinks it's amusing that you're brave enough to make him two nicknames, but nonetheless he likes it and likes to think that he's special because he has two nicknames. He kinda gets smug when someone points out that he has two nicknames.
Lilia is also one of the guys who loves it— he might even make a nickname for you too, he just likes how personal it is so he decided to do the same to you. Whenever you run to him while screaming his nickname he screams your nickname back while giggling. He also encourages the diafam (Diasomnia family) to use his nickname too, but they refuse to because it's 'informal' but they do slip up time to time.
Silver doesn't mind the nickname at all, in fact, he's happy that he even has a nickname in the first place. He's visibly happy about it too: when you call him by his nickname he smiles, he chuckles softly and he even waves back. Lilia sometimes uses it, don't tell anyone.
When Sebek first heard "Sebie" out of your mouth, he did not like it, he whined and got fussy about it and keeps saying how inappropriate it is. He will keep on insisting that you stop using it and to remember people's name better, please ignore it and keep on using it, it's so funny seeing him angry at a nickname, in fact, tease him about it— Ace has done it, so why not join in on the fun? Don't worry though, just like all of your friends, he gets used to it and softens up. He still gets huffy about it, he'll still grumble about how inappropriate it is, but if you actually stop using it he'll pout and say "I didn't say I didn't like it" seriously, he's such a tsundere lol.
𝗔/𝗻: NO ANGST THIS TIME ‼️‼️‼️ HUZZAH ‼️‼️ y'all were lucky I was in a good mood— anywaysssss how y'all been??? I'm on vacay rn so updates are slower but it okay cuz I'm getting more ideas and motivation to write HUZZAHHH hehe that's all y'all, see you guys next drabble! Or oneshot if I'm feeling EXTRA nice
The halls of NRC, the dark warmth of Ramshackle Dorm, the chilly winters of Sage Island, the bright summer sands of the beaches off campus. He could kiss you anywhere, and everywhere.
But, dear Prefect, just how does he do it? That truly is the question, isn’t it?
or: the NRC boys (minus ortho, plus rollo and the known RSA boys as of 5/11/26) and how they kiss you
warnings: kissing, malleus always sounds weirdly sexual no matter how i write him but i think that’s just because that’s his vibe, implied 16+ scenarios (if you squint and spin your brain on your finger like a basketball i guess), religion mentions in rollo’s
Riddle Rosehearts
when riddle kisses you, it’s a little clumsy, like he’s not used to it
he never does grow out of that awkward moment right before the kiss
you bump noses everytime → you both try to move the same way and laugh when it just keeps happening
he melts into kisses every. single. time. his hands always find your face after he finds his rhythm
he tastes like strawberry tart and lemon teas
he can never kiss you without turning bright red → he stutters over every word when you pull away
he will never ask you, nor will he initiate ← you will know his desire by the hand on your knuckles and the way his eyes follow your mouth when you speak to him, but nothing more will be spoken
read his cues. he will be endlessly grateful
as your relationship progresses, he will become more comfortable with initiating contact, so just be patient with him!
he will always kiss you goodnight, even if you’re angry, even if he’s angry. he wants you to know he loves you even in anger.
Trey Clover
trey kisses you deliberately, half teasing half loving
this is never a quick endeavor → he holds you by the jaw and pulls you in deeply no matter what kind of kiss it is
goodbye kiss? it lasts at least ten seconds. same for any others
he wants you to know that he’s thought about it, that he’s not taking you lightly. his kisses reflect that thought process
he always tastes faintly of some kind of batter, but it’s always a little different every time he pulls you in
his hands find your waist and settle there with purpose as you kiss
if you put your hands in his hair he will marry you
take his hat off as you kiss him in front of his dorm room and you might just spend the night → he wants you to know him the way no one else does
Cater Diamond
cater kisses with the kind of avoidance that only comes from getting used to leaving
he’s never quite there when he kisses you casually → he pecks your lips or kisses your cheeks but he walks on eggshells over the idea of being that vulnerable
he claims any public space is a trashy space to make out in → he doesn’t wanna suck face in the hallways of NRC likes two horny side characters in a 2000s romcom
but… if you give him time, he’s worth the wait
he kisses with desperation, emotion you are rarely allowed to see
quick kisses are plastered on magicam like paint on roses but he won’t ever take a picture of the way you smile when he puts his palm on the back of your neck
the first time you kissed for real, he started to cry
kissing you is like air to him, he feels like he’s been choking for his whole life until he felt the way you melt into his lips and his arms
he feels understood when it’s just you and him, and he can’t help but get scared that he’ll have to leave once more
he tried to push you away, but the feeling of your lips on his threw those plans out the window
he tastes like spicy ramen and chips almost every time → sometimes he tastes like spearmint gum (like your first kiss; he was nervous, okay!) and you know he planned on kissing you the whole time
Ace Trappola
when ace kisses you in public, it’s peppered with a raspberry and a joke
he’s determined to make you laugh every time → you roll your eyes and wipe his spit off your cheek and he is so in love with you it’s not even funny anymore
your first kiss he accidentally smacked into you and bit his tongue → he won’t make that mistake again
in private, he’s softer and he kisses like he means it
his hands search for you and they don’t seem to stop → he just likes to know that you’re there and you love him
he tastes like cherry anything → tart, lollipops, even just the actual fruit; it’s addicting
he kisses you on the couch like a high school boyfriend and he finds you in hallways just to deliver one more in case you’ve forgotten how good he is at kissing
he says he’s a better kisser than you as a joke → he secretly thinks you’re better than he is
“prefect, did you eat egg salad or somethin’ at lunch?” ← he’s always just kidding, but he likes when you flush that pretty pink and hit him in the arm with a scowl
he lets you shut him up with kisses, and he always laughs in between the space where your lips meet. without fail.
Deuce Spade
deuce kisses you with tension in his shoulders and a stiffness in his lips → he’d never kissed anyone before you, and he’s scared to get it wrong
he’s the kind of guy to watch tutorials on youtube; he just wants to do it right for you!
his whole world was tilted the first time your lips met his, and he can never go back to the way it was before that moment of connection
he melts into every kiss but it always starts incredibly formal → he will never touch you any way that makes you uncomfortable
he asks every time
“is this okay, prefect?” with his hands cradling your face and his eyes hooded with barely restrained need → he’s always wanted you, and he will never get used to the fact that you’re really his
his hands always end up at the small of your back when the kiss gets deeper like a heat-seeking missile
Leona Kingscholar
when leona kisses you, it’s borderline lazy
he kisses you fully alert the way one would expect him to kiss you half asleep
but when he’s half asleep, his kisses are heavier and much slower
he wants every moment with you to last a lifetime, and he recalls each memory with the reverence of someone who doesn’t want them to wear out or turn to sand
his hands find your hips → he wants to stabilize you, to keep you safe and away from harm every time
he just can’t help the way his lips quirk up when his kisses steal your breath → yes he’s smug, but he’s allowed to be isn’t he?
“don’t strain yourself, herbivore” he loves to daze you and pretend nothing happened
your reddened face is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and he won’t deny it (although he doesn’t mention it either)
if he ever lost you, he’d be a wreck, and he knows it
Ruggie Bucchi
ruggie kisses are punctuated by a light nip and his trademark laugh
they’re meant to take you by surprise, and they always do
he kisses you like he’s starved and you’re a five course meal → you’re his, and he’s so used to owning nothing but the clothes on his back that he can’t help but hoard you away
when he kisses you seriously, you can always tell by the way his hands grab at your shoulders as if to keep you from pulling away
he likes to hear your breath hitch when he lands one, and he revels in the idea that he might be able to get that kind of reaction from you
his teeth find your bottom lip like muscle memory and he loves to laugh at the way you startle
his kisses are cut off by wide grins that pull his lips off his teeth; he just can’t stop smiling like a lunatic and it’s making it hard to lay one on him
Jack Howl
jack kisses you like it’s a challenge and he’s trying to improve every time he does it
his tail wags noticeably and he can’t help but get a little embarrassed
his hands always search for your chin to pull you in just a little more
his ears twitch when your breath hitches → he loves to hear the way you love him
he gets flustered if you deepen the kiss, but he pretends not to
he’s the kind of guy to kiss you every time you meet and every time you part
kiss him before his track meets “for good luck” ← he always ends up performing a little bit better
Azul Ashengrotto
azul still flushes bright blue each time you kiss him
if it were up to him, you would never stop kissing him, but alas, he has work to do
he likes to drop hints, subtle comments that might sound like initiation but really aren’t → he gets nervous, don’t be too harsh with him
his fingers shake when you kiss him, but they intertwine with your own and he feels better
if you put your hands on his waist or his face he just might cry
do NOT wear lipstick because he won’t wipe it off but he won’t let the tweels see it either (they always know when he’s been kissed somehow. maybe it’s that dopey grin on his face? couldn’t be.)
Jade Leech
jade kisses like you’re an experiment, or like a puzzle he’s piecing together
he finds it fascinating that he can earn any kind of reaction from you, and he likes the idea that he might be seeing a part of you that no one else has
he always tastes like mushrooms; it’s earthy and familiar
the first time you kissed him his composure fell completely, and he didn’t speak for at least forty seconds
he’s never physically initiated kissing, but he talks big
“prefect, it seems you tried to kiss me this morning, but you must’ve missed, for it was delivered to my cheek instead. would you like to try again?” ← jade i hate you
Floyd Leech
floyd kisses are fast and always different
he likes to keep things interesting, and to be honest, he was a little skeptical that he wouldn’t get bored of kissing
but holy shit
when he first kissed you it was like an explosion happened in his brain and now he can’t go two seconds without your lips on his
he likes to pick you up (just like the movies) but sometimes he squeezes too hard lol
“shrimpyyyyy!” ← he always punctuates his greetings with little pecks now
(not as cute, but he has a fondness for using his tongue and his teeth)
Kalim Al-Asim
kalim kisses with the kind of love that’s hard to explain
every kiss feels like you’ve been off at war for decades and he’s finally seen you again
the first time you kissed when he finally pulled away he started laughing and couldn’t say anything but the word “hi”
he loves to put his hands in your hair but his fingers always end up at that spot on your jaw right under your ears
his knees get a little shaky every time and he feels a jolt of electricity when your lips collide
he could do it again and again and again
it silences him immediately and he gets weirdly calm after
jamil thanks you lol
Jamil Viper
jamil kisses you like you’re dying, or he is, or perhaps both
he kisses you the way parting lovers do; pyramus and thisbe anyone?
“i suppose you’re right, prefect. we should be going soon.” ← he waits a beat and then kisses you again (you’re never getting where you need to go)
he’s in love with the way you taste
he feels like you’re taunting him everytime you talk to him and you don’t kiss him → what else would those lips before?
plealse don’t kiss him in front of kalim he might die
Vil Schoenheit
when vil kisses you, it is equal parts stylish and vulnerable
you are never at a bad angle when you two kiss; he tilts your head to the exact degree he needs you and he leans in
it’s almost picturesque, but this does not mean it’s not soft and sweet
his kisses are best in his room, alone → these are slow, like he has all the time in the world
his hands always curl at your waist and pull you in slightly, as if he needs to feel your skin on his at every moment
he hums contentedly every time → you never fail to make him deliriously happy
he loves to see his lipstick smudged on you (he wipes it off after, but he likes the image)
Rook Hunt
i think we all know rook’s preferences
rook kisses you with the devotion of a samurai or a man being sent off to battle
he could recite full sonnets about how it feels to kiss you, and if it were up to him he’d never stop
his hands hold you so delicately you’d think you were glass → he wants to treat you like the deity he finds you to be
he’s never felt something so perfect as your lips on his, and he never wants to let that go
try to peck him. try it. i dare you. he will pull you in with a “such a tease, mon cœur” and you will never hear the end of it
his lips ghost over your skin before you fall asleep and right before you wake up → he wants the first thing you know in the morning and the last thing you know at night to be that he loves you
Epel Felmier
epel kisses are a little clumsy, in the best way possible
he tastes like apples (cider, pie, with cinnamon, you name it) and he smells like faded perfumes and soil
his hands never quite know where to go but they always end up at your waist
there’s an enthusiasm in his kisses that is read in almost everything he does → he knows what he wants, and he’s eager to be the best at it
he pulls you in with a strength most people don’t realize he possesses; he’s a bit of a man-handler hehe
overall he’s eager to please and he’s obsessed with your lips more than anything
Idia Shroud
idia kisses are always a little awkward in the sweetest way
the first time you kissed your teeth bumped accidentally and he fell off his bed
he tries to catch you by surprise → it’s the only way he can do it that doesn’t feel cringey
he has maybe seen a few animes that show kissing and tried some tactics on you… but he will NEVER admit this
he finds himself chasing the high your lips give him more often than not, and that interest is what helps him get over his own anxiety
you will probably never get a kiss in public (this is scary) but in his room he’s much more confident about it
he’s the kind of guy to pull away after a bit and just start nervously laughing
pretends to die and throws himself onto his pillow all dramatic like if you giggle while he’s kissing you (he smiles if you start laughing harder though, he’s doing it all for your enjoyment)
he never stops getting flustered by you not even after months of kissing
one kiss? mmm…. another one…. but what if…. one more. mmm…. another one.
his hair turns pink all over and he can barely look at you uwaaaaaaa
(can you tell i love idia?)
Malleus Draconia
malleus kisses you both like he knows what he’s doing, and like he’s learning something new
he’s curious, he wants to know everything that could pull a reaction out of you, and he has no qualms about using his findings against you
his hands are so gentle when they’re on you → he couldn’t imagine being rough with you. ever.
he likes to steal your breath, he finds it amusing that he can leave you panting
he’s the kind of guy to pull away after the first kiss and just look at you a moment before chasing after your lips like a man starved
no feeling will ever compare to the way your lips feel
he lays in bed with you sometimes and thinks about family, about marriage, about waking up every morning to your kiss and he decides it’s worth it; even if human lives are so much shorter, he’d rather a burst of happiness then the slow stumbling walk of regret
Lilia Vanrouge
lilia kisses are bursts of energy that always catch you by surprise
you find yourself recreating the first spider-man movie very often (catch the ref, darlings)
his hands are on your spine → he likes to press you to him, he wants to feel your warmth tangle with his
lilia is legs tangled together and giggles between kisses and yet you’ve never felt this kind of devotion before
he’s willing to spend the rest of his fading life with you and i think that’s beautiful
kisses out in public are pecks and nose kisses intended to make you roll your eyes and laugh
kisses in private are intended to make you realize that there is a love in the universe that is greater than anything, and it is all for you and you alone
Silver Vanrouge
silver kisses are innocent and straightforward
he’s the kind of guy to chase after your lips when you pull away → don’t laugh, he just can’t stop
“prefect, may i kiss you again?” my my, how forward! what would lilia say? (nothing he would literally say nothing)
he dreams about you now, and if he wakes to find his bed empty he feels an ache he’s never really felt in his chest before; i guess you have to stay and monitor this with him, it could be a heart attack
he never does anything without your permission and he’s just the sweetest
sleepytimes boy i love you
Sebek Zigvolt
sebek kisses are ALWAYS clumsy and ALWAYS leave him flustered
every time he pulls away he’s ruddy-faced and straight spined → it’s silly please kiss him again
refuses to kiss in front of malleus i’m sorry
he bows and presses his lips to the back of your hand before using said hand to pull you towards him and leaning to press his lips now to your own
he’s a knight first and your lover second, but this really does have its perks
he’s never been anything but a gentleman to you when it comes to this
if you can handle his yelling, honestly? you can handle anything he throws at you dear reader
he’s grateful you can ❤️
Rollo Flamme
rollo kisses are chaste, but you can feel the restraint behind them each time
hands intertwined with yours and they never stray → he has self-control; he ought to use it
sometimes you catch him off guard and you can practically touch the desperation that leaks from him as he pressed his lips to yours
he’s never wanted anything as much as you and he doesn’t know how to feel about that
give him time, he’s worth it i promise
he likes your temples; this is really where he kisses most often
something something the most reverent place to kiss a lover something something temple of god something something
Artemiy Artemiyevich Pinker (Che’nya)
che’nya kisses are unpredictable but sweet
he appears sometimes out of nowhere to plant one on your lips and then leave with a broad cheshire grin
he can’t get enough of it, and it really shows
“prefect, you’re purrfect” please get him outta my face
no but he does get serious with you sometimes → these are the best che’nya kisses
his fingers curl at the nape of your neck and he tastes like tarts almost every time
he smiles into kisses there is no stopping him
Rielle Corallia
rielle is obsessed with kissing
he searches for you like a heat-seeking missile and kisses you no matter where you are
every time it’s different and every time it’s the greatest thing in the world
he kisses like he’s memorizing the way you feel, like he’s letting his curiosity get the best of him
another one another one another one → you are never getting rid of him
he holds you by the hips, he likes the feeling of what makes you human
some days they find your wrists, feeling your pulse under the skin; he really likes that
Minajael Tealrajah
minajael’s kisses are confident and cool
he dips you sometimes (often) and he can’t help but smirk into the kiss
don’t be fooled though, he’s a huge loser for you
definitely another kiss chaser, he won’t let you go until he’s finished
you pull away to fast and The Eyebrow comes out woof i would kiss him again to make him feel better
he pouts if you don’t kiss him for the exact amount of time he wanted you to
he holds you by the chin and his other arm wraps around your waist to find the small of your back
Neige LeBlanche
neige kisses are sweet and slow
he always asks permission first, there is no exception
his hands grasp either side of your face like he’s holding glass and it’s glorious
he tastes like apples and cinnamon :)
he’s the kind of guy to thank you after you kiss him (don’t bring it up it was an accident !!)
he loves you and he loves to show you that all the time
it takes him five minutes just to say goodbye he’s too busy blissed out on kissing you
Hello and HAPPY BIRTHDAY ! I wish you good health and wealth, I saw that youre taking req for RSA students, so can i req a fic for minajael or rielle having a crush on fem!reader (as the ramshackle prefect in nrc) thankss!
【❝You Are My Crush, I Got A Crush On You❞】
【Featuring: Minajael Tealrajah and Rielle Corallia】
【Tags: implied fem reader (I didn’t used any pronouns or gendered language tho), reader is prefect/yuu, established relationship, possibly ooc Minajael and Rielle (I’m still getting figuring out how I want to write them), fluff, cutesy crush stuff, Minajael has a pet tiger bc I said so, possible typos/spelling errors, please let me know if I missed any tags】
【a/n: hi hi and thank you for the birthday wishes anon!!! I’ve been having a great time writing for Minajael and Rielle, so this was a lot of fun! I’m still getting used to writing them and figuring out my own characterization of them while staying true to the little bit we’ve been shown of them, so I’m sorry if they’re ooc! Anyway, I hope you any and ty again!! (*☻-☻*)】
‧₊˚ ┊ To be honest, love was the last thing on Minajael's mind when he first met you
‧₊˚ ┊ He's got a lot on his plate between acting as Dunasmina's Housewarden, keeping up with his grades, and keeping his overbearing family off his back (the latter of which causes him the most frustration)
‧₊˚ ┊ I think Minajael might have fooled around and gotten into a few short-lived relationships in the past — mostly as a way to piss off his family and take back some of the freedom their expectations have taken from him — but none of them really meant much to him
‧₊˚ ┊ Things are different with you, though
‧₊˚ ┊ You're a breath of fresh air; someone from an entirely different world who doesn't want or expect anything of him because of his status as Prince
‧₊˚ ┊ He doesn't fall for you all at once; it's a slow process, one that's built on a genuine friendship without any obligations or ulterior motives, which is totally unlike any of the other relationships he's been in
‧₊˚ ┊ I think that once Minajael realizes his feelings for you, he turns up the charm a bit
‧₊˚ ┊ Even before he had romantic feelings for you, he was a bit of a playful flirt, but now he's really locking in, so you take the hint
‧₊˚ ┊ I see Minajael's love language being quality time, so the main way he's gonna convey his interest in you is by taking you out on little adventures so you can escape the chaos of your respective schools (you definitely need a break from dealing with all the overblots lol)
‧₊˚ ┊ He's, of course, gonna introduce you to his tiger, who takes an instant liking to you (it thankfully only takes the promise of a box of luxury canned tuna to get Grim to accept Minajael lol)
‧₊˚ ┊ While Minajael hasn't had the best luck with relationships in the past, he believes that this time around, he can truly love and be himself with you — he just has to actually get around to asking you out first lol
⋆｡𖦹˚𓇼˚｡⋆Rielle⋆｡˚𓇼˚𖦹｡⋆
‧₊˚ ┊ I hope you believe in love at first sight, because Rielle definitely does (he's very hopeless romantic coded)
‧₊˚ ┊ The moment he lays eyes on you, it's over, like he just knows in his heart of hearts that you're the one
‧₊˚ ┊ Rielle finds you utterly fascinating, and his naturally curious nature means he's gonna ask you a million and one questions about your world and what it's like (he just really loves learning more about things around him — especially you)
‧₊˚ ┊ I definitely see him as someone who's affectionate with just about everyone, so be prepared for a lot of casual affection with him (he'll lay off if that's not your thing, but if it is, then he'll be all over you lol)
‧₊˚ ┊ Rielle isn't exactly flirty — he's kind and nice to everyone, so his attempts to woo you might come across as him just being friendly
‧₊˚ ┊ Romance and courtship are handled differently under the sea, so he takes the time to study up on human dating standards in an effort to make his intentions clear (he's trying his best, okay?)
‧₊˚ ┊ I definitely think Rielle would try to win Grim over and get his approval before he pursues you any further (all he had to do was flash a can of fancy premium tuna and Grim was ready to give him your hand in marriage right then and there lol)
‧₊˚ ┊ He can be a bit clueless at times, so he — funnily enough — might not be able to pick up on any hints you throw his way (he's his own worst enemy lol)
‧₊˚ ┊ Like, you could invite him out on what anyone else would consider a date, and he'd think of it as a friendly hangout
‧₊˚ ┊ While Rielle might not be the most knowledgeable about this sort of thing, he's determined to learn and make you his in the process (it's gonna take a while, though, so please be patient with him)
a/n: inspired by that one audio of toji in the dub where he’s like “i’m not a zenin anymore. i took my wife’s name. it’s fushiguro now” GOOD GAWDDD (even my coworker loves that line lolol)
synopsis: when they take YOUR last name instead of the other way around. everyone’s going crazy because this means the name on their jersey changes, too!!!
isagi doesn’t make it a dramatic announcement. he just… does it. one day, paperwork comes back finalized and suddenly it’s yoichi [your last name] printed clean and official and he stares at it for a good thirty seconds like he just won a world cup.
when people ask why, he scratches the back of his neck, smiling sheepishly. says something like, “it just felt right. she’s been my anchor since the beginning.” says it so sincerely that no one can even tease him properly.
his parents are surprised at first, but immediately supportive. his mom is emotional about it, honestly. she keeps saying how proud she is that he chose love so confidently, and his dad jokes that he “married up” anyway.
the team finds out because bachira sees the new name on a document and loses his mind. suddenly everyone’s asking questions and isagi’s ears are bright red the entire time.
kunigami gives him a quiet nod of approval. chigiri thinks it’s romantic. rin pretends not to care, but respects the decision deep down.
the media reaction is… unexpectedly soft. headlines talk about “isagi yoichi’s quiet declaration of devotion” and fans eat it UP. edits everywhere. discourse everywhere.
isagi takes pride in it in the calmest way possible. he signs autographs with his new name carefully, like it means something sacred. because it does.
privately, he tells you it reminds him every day of why he plays so hard. says carrying your name feels like carrying home with him, even onto the field.
itoshi rin
rin doesn’t explain himself. ever.
he files the paperwork without telling anyone. not you, not sae, not the press. it’s just done.
when the announcement drops, everyone is confused. the itoshi name is huge. legacy-level huge. people assume it’s a mistake.
rin shuts it down with one sentence. flat voice, zero hesitation: “i chose my wife’s name. that’s all.”
sae notices immediately and is… weirdly quiet about it. no teasing. no sarcasm. just a long look that says he understands more than he lets on.
their parents are furious at first. rin doesn’t argue. doesn’t raise his voice. just says he made his decision and won’t discuss it further.
teammates are lowkey scared to ask, but they notice how rin straightens whenever he hears his new name announced. how he never corrects anyone. how he never once looks uncertain.
the media spirals. debates about legacy, masculinity, tradition. rin ignores all of it.
but then there are photos. rin wearing his wedding ring during interviews. rin standing a little closer to you than usual. rin introducing himself with your last name like it’s always been his.
his pride is quiet, but unshakeable. taking your name is rin cutting his own path, choosing something that’s his. and for once, it isn’t about proving anything to anyone else.
itoshi sae
sae treats it like a business decision at first. very calm. very intentional.
when asked why, he says, “because i wanted to.” that’s it. doesn’t elaborate unless pushed.
behind closed doors, though? he thought about it for a long time. the itoshi name is heavy. expectations, comparisons, history.
taking your name feels like choosing peace.
his family reaction is… tense, but controlled. they don’t like it, but sae has been living life on his own terms for years now. this just confirms it.
rin takes it as sae making a clean break. doesn’t comment, but there’s mutual understanding there.
teammates joke that he’s “whipped.” sae just smirks and says nothing, which somehow makes it worse for them.
the media frames it as a power move. “sae rejects tradition,” “sae itoshi redefines masculinity.” sae couldn’t care less.
what he does care about is the way your name sounds when announcers say it. how it feels when he signs contracts with it. how it ties his future to yours instead of his past.
he takes pride in it quietly, confidently. no defensiveness. no regret. just certainty.
nagi seishiro
nagi agrees immediately.
not because he didn’t think about it, but because to him it’s simple. you’re his person. so why wouldn’t he take your name?
when reo asks him if he’s sure, nagi just blinks and goes, “yeah. it’s easier.”
the public loses their mind. everyone assumes reo convinced him or that he doesn’t understand the significance.
but nagi understands. he just doesn’t care.
his family is mostly confused, but chill about it. as long as he’s happy and still eating properly, they’re fine.
teammates tease him relentlessly. nagi just shrugs and says he likes how your last name sounds better.
the pride comes later. when he realizes how permanent it is. how it means he chose you over convenience, over expectations.
he starts correcting people when they get it wrong. gently, but firmly. that’s when everyone knows he’s serious.
sometimes he stares at his jersey with the new name and feels… warm. doesn’t have words for it. just knows he made the right choice.
mikage reo
reo makes it a statement.
he announces it with a smile, hand laced with yours, fully aware of how shocking it’ll be. the mikage name is massive.
his parents are stunned. not angry, just genuinely surprised. they expect him to pass on the family name, the legacy.
reo handles it gracefully. explains that legacy isn’t just inheritance, it’s what you build. and he’s building his life with you.
nagi is completely unfazed. says it suits him. reo almost cries.
the media explodes. rich boy takes wife’s name? feminists love him. traditionalists hate him. reo thrives in the chaos.
he’s openly proud of it. posts about it. corrects reporters. laughs when people act shocked.
but in private, he admits it felt scary. letting go of something so ingrained. trusting that love is enough.
taking your name feels like choosing authenticity over expectation. like proving he’s more than a heir.
every time he introduces himself with your last name, there’s a softness in his smile that wasn’t there before. because for once, he chose something purely for himself.
bachira meguru
bachira thinks it’s the coolest thing ever. like genuinely. the second you jokingly ask, “what if you took my last name?” he lights up like you just suggested finger painting on the moon.
he tells people with zero hesitation. “oh yeah! i’m meguru [your last name] now!” like it’s a new art project he’s obsessed with.
his mom absolutely adores it. she says names are meant to change and grow, just like people, and bachira eats that up. suddenly he’s framing it as something poetic.
teammates are confused because bachira didn’t even pause before agreeing. isagi asks if he thought about it. bachira tilts his head and goes, “yeah. it made me happy.”
the media spins it as “bachira rejects tradition for love,” but bachira doesn’t even read the articles. he’s too busy doodling your shared initials everywhere.
he takes pride in it in the most bachira way: saying your last name out loud just because he likes how it feels in his mouth.
he says it makes him feel more connected to you, like you’re creating something colorful and weird and uniquely yours together.
sometimes he jokes that he joined your team now. he’s not joking as much as he pretends to be.
shidou ryusei
shidou does it because he wants to. full stop.
when people ask why, he laughs loud and sharp and says, “because i married her. she’s mine.”
he doesn’t care about tradition, legacy, or public opinion. the only thing that matters is that the name ties him to you permanently.
his family (what little contact there is) barely reacts. shidou never cared what they thought anyway.
teammates are half-shocked, half-terrified by how intense he is about it. he gets aggressive if anyone implies it makes him “less of a man.”
“you ever loved someone hard enough to rewrite yourself?” is the closest thing to an explanation he gives.
the media goes feral. shidou ryusei taking his wife’s name is treated like some radical, rebellious act. shidou eats it up.
he takes pride in it loudly. introduces himself with your last name like a challenge.
to him, it’s not submission. it’s possession and devotion all wrapped together. he chose you, and he wants the world to choke on that fact.
karasu tabito
karasu pretends it’s not a big deal, which means it’s a huge deal.
he’s very casual when he brings it up. “yeah, i’m taking her name. makes sense.”
people think there’s some hidden motive. there isn’t. he just hates outdated traditions and loves annoying people who cling to them.
his family is surprised, but not upset. they know karasu doesn’t do anything without thinking it through.
teammates try to tease him, but karasu shuts it down with logic so sharp it hurts. points out how arbitrary last names are anyway.
the media frames him as “progressive” and “intellectual.” karasu rolls his eyes.
what he doesn’t say out loud is that taking your name feels like choosing partnership over ego.
he takes pride in it quietly, smugly. loves correcting people when they assume otherwise.
sometimes he smirks and says, “she kept hers. i upgraded.” and leaves everyone speechless.
kaiser michael
kaiser makes it a spectacle.
he announces it himself, fully aware of how insane it sounds. the kaiser name is iconic, feared, worshipped.
ness nearly short-circuits. “you’re… giving up the name?” kaiser just smiles.
the media explodes. people assume it’s a power play, a psychological move, a manipulation tactic.
in truth? it’s control, but not in the way they think.
kaiser chooses your name because he chose it. because it was his decision, free of the past that hurt him.
his dad is furious. kaiser could care less (it’s not like he talks to him anymore anyway). he’s already built himself into something untouchable.
teammates are confused by how calm and certain he is about it. no arrogance, just confidence.
he takes pride in it like a trophy he earned. signs it with flourish. wears it like armor.
in private, he admits your name feels like a rebirth. like proof that he isn’t owned by his past anymore.
ness notices the difference immediately. he respects you even more for it.
ness alexis
ness is terrified at first. he worries people will laugh, that they’ll think he’s weak.
but when you smile at him and say you want him to choose what makes him happy, something in his chest loosens.
he takes your name carefully, reverently. like it’s fragile.
his family is shocked, but gentle about it. they ask if he’s sure. ness says yes, for once without hesitation.
the media barely pays attention compared to kaiser, which honestly suits him.
teammates don’t tease him much. there’s something sincere about the way he holds onto the decision.
he takes pride in it softly. corrects people politely. smiles every time he hears it.
being your husband, sharing your name, makes him feel chosen instead of useful.
kaiser notices. says nothing. but the respect is there, too.
hello!!!!! congrats on your test!!! may I please order a strawberry shortcake with Jiro for here?
soo sorry for the wait!! ofc, i always have a weak spot when it comes to jiro lol, and hopefully this was short and sweet, just what you wanted! please enjoy💕
strawberry shortcake for jiro : a kiss someplace it shouldn’t be
gn!reader. fluff / a littlee suggestive. 1549 words. prompt.
No one is allowed into the locker rooms except for the football players.
Jiro knew surely he’d get into deep shit with coach if he ever found out you were in here after hours. and he's already on thin ice regarding the few instances as well.
But he had to grab something real quick from his locker, and you were already there watching the game, congratulating him on their win. It’s not as if Jiro could just let go of your hand to pick up his bag, have you wait outside for a bit. That's simply not the kind of boyfriend Jiro is.
So you walked in with him — it'll be fine, promise! and how could you ever doubt that charming grin to him? — looked around the place as he showed you his locker with this sorta pride he boasts.
I mean, it's not much. Only a locker. But it's his, your superstar football player boyfriend's, yeah? It's musty, it.. definitely has some sort of stench to it, with all the dirty clothes he keeps stashed in there that he really should get around to washing. And you can see the pochacco wrist bands you gifted him once too, the ones he always brags about to his friends, the ones he always wears out on the field for luck. heh.
And really, he didn’t know how — Jiro would put his arms up in innocence, he swears — but one thing led to another: goofing around, showing you his locker and around the place. This is like a second home to him, y'know.
And now you’re pressed into his locker, into his chest, with his lips on yours. Slow and sweet, as if the two of you have all the time in the world. which, you don't.
But like. Coach shouldn’t mind too much, yeah? as long as the two of you don’t make much of a mess. It’s only ever innocent.
Satoru literally had his partner in the other day. Jiro would know. He accidentally walked in on them when he forgot his change of clothes; not that he saw anything though, he swears! Not the way Satoru had them pressed against his locker, nor the way his hands were all over them messy, the hushed whispers loud.
Nope. Jiro didn't know anything. And they were hidden in plain sight too..
If Satoru was off the hook, then you guys should be fine too. You can trust him, oh of course; Jiro would never put you in any sort of trouble.
No one was around right now. Thankfully, Jiro thinks; he has you all to himself.
And you’re just too cute cheering him on from the stands.
Ugh, too cute calling his name just like that, too cute in that extra jersey of his — 18, Yamada. his. Jiro had to stop himself from running straight to you instead. But that’s where the true goal lies, right? Except Jiro certainly has to practice his flirts since he can’t even say it without tying his tongue and his heart hitting the wrong note each time, despite the fact you're now his.
And every time he’d turn to you, wiping the sweat with his shirt. You’d give him this big adorable grin. Smile so wide, make a heart with your hands. I love you! you’d mouth, and already Jiro’s heart would beat faster than it already was from all the running around; he gets even more pumped then.
He’d have to make this goal so this game would end soon. Then, he can see you.
His cleats seem so big compared to your shoes, when Jiro pushes you against him, boxes you in between his chest and the cool metal of the locker that pinches your skin. Even if they’re the same size as yours, even if they’re just a little bit tight on him.
Jiro has never seemed as large before; but he's bigger than giants, it feels, with his forehead pressed against yours, hair grazing your skin, and his arms on either side. He's taller than you thought at first.
And his lips don't give you much room to breathe, not with the way Jiro kisses you breathlessly. As if he has never kissed you before, as if it's a dream come true, and he hopes it doesn't end so soon. He makes sure his don't leave yours for even a second more; Jiro misses you, and he missed you today too, the entire time he was out on the field. He tells you with that heated breath of his, so hot, so wet, the way he whimpers shamelessly into your lips. So loud too, as if no one could possibly be around. Not a single soul in Ikebukuro.
Coach can stay outside for a little bit longer, yeah? Jiro is the star player after all.
So he’ll take his big congrats kiss right now, the one you promised him right before if they won.
His hair is greasy, when you run your hands through. full of sweat yet still fluffy. He definitely needs a shower when he gets home. He probably smells, most likely, Jiro knows, most especially when he's this close; he just got done with a match after all. Jiro hopes you don't mind though — you smell so sweet compared to him after all. Nice and clean, dizzying; Jiro only wants to cover himself in you more and more.
And his skin is slightly sticky against yours, warm. Jiro clings to you like he hasn't seen you in three months, and the must only grows hotter, heavier.
He's gross.
But you kinda like this.
It's cozy this close in the locker room with Jiro, no concept of personal space whatsoever. And the smell of teenage boy sweat, hormones, and humidity (yuck) clings to your skin, your lips bruised from his barrage of kisses.
He's your gross Jiro, after all. The star football player of Ikebukuro High, the best hypnosis mic holder in the city too. Nobody else's.
Your fingers lace at the back of his neck, grazing over his sensitive skin so gentle, as you comb through the soft strands; he always liked this, when he'd lie in your lap and you'd play with his hair slow, or like this, when Jiro holds you close, and you run your hand through slow. And oh he just melts with ease, no resistance at all, right into your warmth. There's nothing he loved more in the world.
Yeah, just like that babe..
Jiro whimpers breathless, incoherent. adorable. so not like the man he wants to be.
And his lips never leave too- how could he? When he breaks, and he presses his forehead to yours for just a moment. Your breaths are intertwined, lips glossed with his spit, and he gazes at you this close like there's no other soul in the world. With his breath so heavy on your skin, lips thumping and he whines because he already misses you, he goes back in for yet another. And one more too, because Jiro can never stop at just one.
Yet he holds you stable against himself and his locker, the one decorated with his awards since freshman year — now you. His arms are so strong, hands on either of your sides, his hold firm; he'd never ever let you go — he told you that from his confession. Exactly the man for you.
He cozies himself into the crook of your neck after his own lips and yours are bruised; his soft, tufted hair grazed against your skin, and his whines are almost buried in the heat, tired from the practice game, breaths heavy from all the cardio he’s been doing.
He really needed this babe.
After a match, when he's dead tired and his legs are sore, when Jiro wants nothing more than to laze on his bed and take a fat nap, he only needs you in his arms the most.
It's his post-game ritual, of course.
He can’t hear the footsteps in the back, checking to see if anyone’s still here. And Jiro certainly can't hear his coach's booming voice that fills the hall, talking about strategy for the next game in a couple of days.
All he can hear is the moans of his name on your tongue, the beat of his heart. It's louder than anything else — faster than even the speed of sound.
But Jiro will just take the scolding from coach tomorrow, yet again. And he’ll take all the teasing from the team about how Jiro is such a dirty delinquent, sneaking you in and making out at his locker. He has such game- seriously, he treats you so well. How lucky you are.
I mean, they all saw the marks on his back last time while he changed, and damn. They’d whistle, laugh at how red the tips of his ears got and at his desperate attempts to hide the inconspicuous love bites — they're mosquite bites, ok! all over his neck so bright and red. It's true!! — but they already know. Jiro isn't a very good liar anyway.
He’ll take the ten extra laps he has to run around the field if it meant he got you in the end instead.
Masquerade! hide your face so the world'll never found you
SUMMARY: You're always supposed to travel with the delegation, whether you want to or not. This time, you did want to attend the festival—but Crowley decided your name wasn't on the official list.
Naturally, you ignored him. With Grim at your side and a plan held together by stubbornness alone, you slipped into Fleur City and its dazzling masquerade—the most colorful, musical night the city had to offer.
The only problem? You hadn’t planned on running into the seven dorm leaders of NRC…or on being personally escorted by them straight to the gates of Noble Bell College.
TAGS: crack, humor, drama, flirting without knowing.
WORD COUNT: 23k
COMMENTS: this is hella long, so buckle up!! I took some narrative liberties, maybe not entirely event canon but oh well, there's full chaos.
Soundtrack recommendation: God help the outcast - Topsy Turvy - The Bell Tower - Paris Burning - Make a Wish - Masquerade - Bells of Notre Dame
What does one have to do to get a little peace in the middle of a haunted dormitory that’s almost crumbling down to its foundations, with a cat shooting fire left and right?
That was what you were thinking when a letter showed up carried along by a cascade of black feathers. It was as if peace and order didn’t exist in the vocabulary of this magic-filled school.
One moment Ramshackle was quiet, or as quiet as it could get with Grim arguing with one of the ghosts, who had stolen a can of tuna just to mess with him, and the next, a whirl of glossy black feathers burst in through the broken window and spiraled dramatically down onto the first steps of the lounge staircase.
“HEY! We’re under attack!” Grim growled, jumping back when the envelope landed with an unnecessarily theatrical thump on the coffee table. “Protect me, Henchman!”
You sighed, keeping Grim upright as he climbed up your arm until he settled on your shoulder. You picked up the letter and looked it over; burgundy-colored, with a wax seal faintly gleaming in gold.
A letter that screamed official and important no matter how you looked at it.
It definitely wasn’t a bill or some annoying request from the administration. Crowley never handed those out in person, much less with a flock of black feathers; which meant the bird-brained headmaster was nearby.
And with that, the front door swung wide open on its own with a creak.
“Well, well, my most honorable and dependable residents!” he said in a voice far too cheerful and far too polished, stepping into the dorm as if it belonged to him and not like he had dumped it on you in terrible condition. “What fortune to find both of you at home! Truly, the stars themselves align for the diligent!”
Grim shot him a flat look and narrowed his eyes. “When you talk like that it means nothing good”
Crowley brushed off the comment with professional skill. “My dear prefect,” he continued, turning toward you with a wide smile, his cape swishing as if he had practiced the move in the mirror about ten times. “I require your presence in my office immediately. It concerns a matter of prestige, honor, and, naturally, inter-academic relations”
In other words… trouble.
You glanced sideways at Grim; the cat met your look, and you murmured to him when you saw Crowley turn to head out of the lounge without even checking whether you were following or not. “Yeah, nothing good ever comes from him”
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
The office gleamed and buzzed more than usual, once again showing off dear Headmaster Crowley’s vanity.
The dorm leaders were gathered around the table, composed, radiating different levels of authority, boredom, or barely-contained chaos. Kalim was practically vibrating with happiness, just like Idia… although he was probably vibrating because he wanted to go back and lock himself inside his room; the fact that he was here, surrounded by people, was already an achievement.
Yes, obviously something was about to go down.
There were expectant looks from the others—except Leona, obviously. He was one step away from turning around and heading off to sleep in his usual spot in the botanical garden. The atmosphere had that specific tense shine that meant the announcement about to drop was going to be, indeed, catastrophic.
You took your place beside Kalim, who bumped your hip in greeting and grinned from ear to ear. You returned the gesture, lightly bumping his hip back, and let Grim settle himself on top of your head.
Crowley cleared his throat, which was always the beginning of one of his boring, overly theatrical, and unbearable monologues.
“My dear dorm leaders,” his eyes gleamed at the sight of the seven young men waiting in front of him. Grim coughed, and Crowley’s expression tightened slightly. “And prefect,” he continued. “Today we have received an extraordinary honor”
With a flourish, he raised seven invitations, seven burgundy letters with shining golden seals.
“Noble Bell College has kindly sent official invitations requesting the presence of representatives from Night Raven College at their upcoming cultural festival”
Your eyes widened. An event outside NRC, allowing you to explore more of this world and see another school; considering they barely let you leave for the nearby town on the Island of Sages, and RSA was still out of the question— that school was still a mystery to you.
So Noble Bell College would be your next magical stop.
Grim looked excited too, gripping your hair tightly and whispering to himself all the things he was already plotting in his small and chaotic head about what he was going to do: eat lots of tasty things, maybe sweets or bread, or tuna made in some way he had never tried before; the possibilities were endless for your little cat.
“And to enhance the experience, the school will treat this event as a masquerade. Isn’t that fascinating?”
Okay, the pinnacle of dramatics—very Twisted Wonderland and very Crowley… you like it.
Crowley was smiling like a man who definitely intended to send teenagers straight into imminent student chaos. He opened one of the invitations and read the contents in his characteristic dramatic voice.
“The event celebrates unity, refinement, and the highest traditions of academia. Naturally, they have requested our… most distinguished students. And of course this dear and most generous headmaster”
And that was where the seven invitations came into play. Seven letters addressed to each of the seven dorm leaders… and to no one else. He didn’t mention the vice leaders’ names, nor your name, nor Grim’s.
Crowley lowered the letter with a satisfied nod. “And with that, the official delegation is concluded”
On your end, silence. A small, polite silence, while the others were already straightening their postures, ready to hear when they would depart and how they should present themselves.
Then Crowley’s head tilted, looking forward, not directly at you, nor at Grim, as if remembering something slightly inconvenient. His eyes were fixed firmly on the office door.
“Ah! But of course… our reliable prefect!” he turned toward you with a bright, performative smile. “As the head of Ramshackle dorm, it would be inappropriate not to include you in this announcement. Transparency is the hallmark of this benevolent administration, after all.”
You heard Leona snort loudly, as if the words “benevolent administration” were completely accurate. If you weren’t harboring a bad feeling right then and there, you would have snorted along with him.
Grim puffed out his chest when he saw that the headmaster was now addressing his beloved henchman. “I knew it! We’re going to—”
“However…” Crowley cut him off, and you felt Grim’s tail deflate against the back of your head. The bird-brain laced his fingers together in front of him. “The invitation, unfortunately, extends specifically to recognized magical students who participate in the official exchange. As you do not possess any measurable magical ability…”
Grim opened his mouth to argue back, ready to launch a fireball that would leave him flat on his back after such humiliation.
“Master Grim, you and the prefect are essentially one student,” he cut him off again. “And given that Ramshackle is, shall we say, administratively… unique…” he made a vague motion with his hand, annoyed at having to find the word that best fit the situation without making it more tense than it already was.
Reading between the lines: you’re not invited, and neither is the cat. It’s not negotiable. Not even by accident.
Crowley gave a sympathetic nod, his eyes showing a very well-acted sadness. “How unfortunate! Truly unfortunate. Perhaps next time”
Next time… like being told there was no more of the cake you liked in the cafeteria and you’d have to wait until tomorrow to eat it. Or like being told you had to try a little harder on the next assignment.
As if you hadn’t literally fought overblots throughout the school year, monsters, ghosts, and whatever the hell lives in the school’s ventilation ducts.
Life isn’t fair, right?
The other leaders didn’t react strongly, but they didn’t give you the reactions you expected either. A couple of shrugs, Kalim looking at you with genuine sadness at not being able to enjoy the evening by your side.
Crowley broke the silence, and the damn spell, with a clap. “Very well then! Preparations begin immediately!”
The meeting dissolved into excited chatter from the headmaster and completely formal, rather critically thought-out discussion from the leaders. Malleus, in particular, looked especially fascinated by the idea of having been invited.
Grim’s tail flicked over your shoulder. “…they’re really not taking us”
The office suddenly felt a little louder… and a little farther away while the two of you watched the others discuss travel plans, formal attire provided by the school, speculation about the festival, music, foreign food.
“Make sure to keep the dorm in order while we’re away, prefect! Such an important responsibility!” Crowley waved a hand at you, signaling you were already dismissed from the meeting.
Grim’s ears flattened against his small head as you headed for the exit.
“…this is bullshit.”
“Yeah,” you huffed. “Yeah, it really is.”
The murmuring followed you out of the office like static.
Crowley was talking louder than usual, Vil was already arguing about the weight of the luggage and the makeup he’d have to do for everyone, yes, even Leona, whom you heard growl when Vil so much as mentioned it. Azul was bringing up the odds of expanding NRC’s prestige to other cities and colleges.
None of it helped.
Grim walked beside you on two legs, stomping down the hallway, his tail bristling, the claws of his hind paws visible and tapping against the stone.
“This is a total scam!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the stone corridor. “We beat ghosts, monsters, more overblots than I can count—”
“—and we still aren’t ‘official’ enough for a school trip,” you finished with the same level of offense.
“EXACTLY!” Grim threw his paws into the air.
You shoved the castle doors open harder than necessary, grumbling under your breath. That damn bird-brain was really getting under your skin; any moment now you’d kick him in the rear so hard you’d send him flying… if it weren’t for the small amount of money the school administration paid you.
The cool afternoon air hit your face, but it didn’t loosen the tight knot in your chest. The voices continued behind you, just as enthusiastic; a glance over your shoulder was enough to make you blow out a breath and start walking down the steps.
“Even Idia’s going,” you muttered.
Maybe bringing up the most antisocial and anxious guy in the school wasn’t the fairest or most honorable move right now, but you were really angry. Not at him, obviously, you were angry at the damn headmaster.
“RIGHT?!” Grim went down the steps jumping two at a time, ears pointed up and seconds away from shouting all the injustices he had suffered thanks to our beloved headmaster. “That guy considers opening his bedroom door a major life event!”
You flinched. “Okay, that was too much, Grim,” you said, your voice a little sharp, staring at the steps because you knew that the moment you took your eyes off the stone it was statistically likely you’d trip, considering the anger leaking out of every pore.
“Hey! You started it” He raised a paw and pointed at you.
“Yeah, well…” you continued, “I didn’t mean it to put him down. Idia comes from a prestigious family and has plenty of money...of course he got an invitation.” You crossed your arms as you reached the last steps. “What’s surprising is that he’s physically going”
Grim kicked a pebble down the steps and jumped the last stretch again.
“He’s physically going and we’re stuck here doing… what. Guarding our dorm from the ghosts we already live with?”
You crossed your arms tighter and rolled your eyes. “I can’t even step off campus without paperwork, supervision, or a miracle,” your voice came out laced with venom, and with every second you were losing what little patience you had left. Spiraling with a grumpy cat wasn’t helping the situation. “But sure, let’s send the entire walking disaster of NRC abroad”
“I should be famous,” he growled. “Hero Grim saves the day again! Where’s my cultural exchange, huh?”
You snorted a laugh despite everything. “Apparently saving the school multiple times doesn’t count as an extracurricular activity”
You crossed the courtyard, the fountain, the last stretch of stone that led toward the castle’s back doors and the path back to Ramshackle. The words kept coming out—half complaints, half that tired bitterness that shows up when something unfair hits a little too close.
When you reached the door, the bridge visible connecting the next stretch of poorly kept land, you stopped. Grim kept walking, now on four paws, and lifted his tail when he realized you had stopped and he was crossing the bridge alone.
You looked at the horizon, spotting the haunted house in the distance and the perfect midday sun over the skyline.
The idea began to take shape slowly, putting down roots little by little, but decisively. The solution to both your frustrations was right there; simple, obvious, both stupid and perfect.
“Why did you stop?” Grim asked, walking back toward you.
You didn’t answer right away. You let the idea keep forming in your mind, running through all the chances of it going right and the ones where it wouldn’t, mapping out everything needed for it to actually work.
Your fingers tapped against your arm. “…it’s a masquerade”
Grim tilted his head. “…yeah?”
Your eyes met his, now wide as he looked at you in a way he hadn’t all year. Your face carried an expression that meant trouble; the kind of trouble that historically ended in explosions, rule violations, accidental heroics, and at least three disciplinary reports from Crewel.
“A masquerade ball,” you repeated slowly, tilting your head toward him, silently urging him to catch on quickly. “Everyone wears masks”
Grim’s ears twitched.
“No one’s supposed to stand out,” you crouched down so you were closer to him. “No one’s supposed to know who’s who”
You let the words settle in his mind, letting the silence guide the realization. One second passed, two, three—until Grim’s eyes flew open wide, pupils dilating and his tail shooting upright as your words finally clicked.
“Oh… you’re kidding”
Your lips curled into a dangerous smile, the kind that promised a thousand reprimands if you got caught, but that would be worth every damn second.
“If no one knows who’s who,” you said quietly, making sure the conversation stayed between the two of you, “then no one knows who wasn’t invited either”
Grim gasped like someone had just handed him the keys to a kingdom made entirely of cans and cans of fresh tuna.
“Prefect… who would’ve thought you could be so devious”
“We definitely shouldn’t do this,” you said, staring at him.
“…but we’re going to do it anyway,” he shot back.
A second of silence passed. Then another. And a third.
“Yeah.”
“HEIST MODE!” Grim threw his paws in the air, jumping with excitement.
You shut the castle door, not a trace of frustration left on your face. No, that had disappeared, replaced by determination. Who would’ve thought your mind could be just as troublesome as Ace’s?
Your steps were decisive, and you didn’t head toward Ramshackle. If you were going to sneak into a cultural event where formality and proper attire were the currency, nothing in that dusty shack would do. No; there weren’t any clothes formal enough or well-made enough there without getting you exposed the moment you set foot, or paw, into the cultural event.
“We need supplies,” you said, veering off the path to the right, following the dirt road.
“Supplies to commit a crime?”
“Supplies to attend formally without prior authorization”
“…crime then,” Grim confirmed, running after you.
The path to Sam’s shop felt like walking deeper and deeper into a very bad idea; and at the same time, a very promising one. The campus stretched around you, wrapped in that late-afternoon haze where the stone towers glowed gold and the buzz of excitement over the news drifted through the cool air.
“Okay, but... I can’t just put on a mask and call it a day. I’m a talking, flame-shooting, very handsome cat”
“Yes, that’s the main problem” Sam’s shack was already in sight—just a few more yards and you’d step into territory both familiar and unknown, ready to show off its haunted wonders.
“My ears! My tail! My flames! My incredible natural charisma, nya!”
“Mostly the flames” you gave him a look.
Grim deflated a little. “…yeah, okay, the flames”
A few more steps and you were already standing in front of the shack. That mystical atmosphere around it always made the hairs on your arms stand on end.
You pushed open the crooked wooden door and a small bell chimed. The air inside the shop wrapped around you like warm smoke, carrying a faint scent of cinnamon, something that made the place feel both comforting and creepy. The shelves were stacked to the top with all kinds of things: enchanted fabrics, suspiciously labeled bottles, and objects that definitely moved when you weren’t looking straight at them. You could swear a pearl necklace you had seen on a shelf near the door was now resting on a display in the main window.
“Well, well,” Sam’s smooth, enchanted voice echoed through the shop from behind the counter. When he had gotten there, you had no idea—five seconds ago the counter had been completely empty. “If it isn’t my favorite prefect… and judging by the look on your face and on your cute and definitely not troublesome cat…” he leaned forward, “…you’re not here for anything legal.”
Grim puffed out his chest, slightly offended by the comment, but he was still the first to speak, or rather, yell.
“We need stealth!”
You’re never going to get that by shouting
Sam’s smile widened, as dangerous as someone could look while being the entrepreneur running one of the most useful and necessary shops on a school campus. “Say no more”
With a snap of his fingers, the counter suddenly looked like the backstage of a theatrical crime, or a theater dressing room, which worked better for carrying out the plan.
Masks, capes, gloves, fabric samples, a monocle that Grim definitely tried on and that you definitely didn’t let him keep; with the way he walked he’d break it any second.
Sam tapped the counter thoughtfully with one finger.
“So,” his voice sounded as soft as velvet, but you knew underneath it hid the layer of a hardened entrepreneur who always kept an enchanted clause up his sleeve, “you need formal masquerade outfits convincing enough… while hiding the presence of a highly combustible feline”
Grim bristled. “HMNYA! I’m not combustible—!”
“How did you know we needed masquerade outfits?” you cut in. Your eyes narrowed at Sam suspiciously.
“My Queen… nothing happens in this school without me hearing about it.” It was a vague answer, but also a very unsettling one. But this wasn’t the moment to stop and argue, so for now you let it slide.
“He’s the real problem. I can blend in with a dress—”
“And masking your scent.” You still weren’t used to the way Sam interrupted conversations to drop information as if you were already supposed to know what it meant.
“Excuse me?”
“If my informants haven’t failed me,” Sam drummed his fingers on the counter and gave you a sly look, “a certain lion and a high fae will be attending the event, meaning they would be the first to spot both of you just by catching your scent.”
Damn it. He was right.
“…okay, point taken” You sighed, resigning yourself to the fact that you’d have to pay for more than just fancy clothes. “With something to mask my scent, a dress, and a mask, I can blend in. But him…” you pointed at Grim without looking at him, “he needs to look… like a normal familiar.”
Sam hummed and gave Grim a full look from head to toe—and if it had been biologically possible, he would’ve circled him with his eyes.
“Not normal,” he corrected at last. “Expected”
“…expected?” you repeated, frowning.
Sam opened a drawer and pulled out a violet velvet cloak with a hood; deep, formal, the kind that screamed ceremonial elegance. Another of the great mysteries of Sam’s shop: who knows why the entrepreneur had a cloak exactly Grim’s size waiting inside a drawer.
“Cultural events in magical academies bring familiars all the time,” Sam commented as he adjusted the hood over Grim’s ears. “Magical creatures, bound spirits, enchanted companions. Half the time nobody even knows what species they are”
The cloak, now arranged over Grim’s small body, wrapped around him completely, barely showing his shape. The fall of the fabric looked heavy and dramatic; the flames of his ears illuminated the inside in a way that felt very theatrical and very on-theme. Then Sam added a carved masquerade mask, elongated, elegant, slightly decorated with claw-like details but still stylized enough to look ceremonial rather than suspicious.
Only Grim’s bright eyes were visible beneath the shadow of the hood and mask. Sam stepped back, admiring his work.
“With the hood down, the mask set properly forward, and strict instructions not to shout…”
Grim shifted his posture. Now almost none of his face showed and his tail was hidden neatly beneath the cloak. Suddenly he looked less like “chaotic campus threat” and more like “arcane familiar belonging to someone extremely important.”
“…wow,” Grim whispered when he saw his cloaked figure reflected in the glass of the counter.
“Pretty convincing,” you added.
Sam’s smile widened as he leaned over the counter, both hands holding up his head. “Exactly”
“I look expensive” Grim spun in a small circle to admire himself, the heavy cloak barely making a dramatic swirl and giving no hint that he might be exposed when he moved.
“You are expensive,” you shot back. “You eat like you’ve got a black hole in your stomach”
Grim decided to ignore you and kept spinning around admiring himself. Sam, meanwhile, straightened and clapped his hands once, making your attention snap back to him.
“Now for you, prefect”
Another snap of his fingers and a dress slid onto the counter—dark, outrageously expensive fabric, black brocade with elegant lace details and a red overlay that made the black stand out even more. Off-shoulder, low-cut, with a skirt that would obviously require a crinoline.
Elegant wasn’t the right word, it was more than that. It was refined, breathing opulence and formality. Semi-transparent sleeves, ruffles and lace layered over more lace.
“A mask that hides, not dazzles” Sam placed a light black fabric mask on the counter, decorated with brocade and gothic embroidery, soft to the touch and perfect for covering half your face. “The best disguise isn’t the loudest one…”
He set the last pieces down on the counter: a choker of black pearls with a rose in the center, the strands long enough that when worn they would drape over the shoulders; a pair of short black lace gloves; and a very gothic-style hat, pompous, with a fall of fabric that resembled a veil.
A very gothic set… perfect for a masquerade.
“…but the one no one remembers”
You lifted the dress carefully with both hands, making sure not to snag the lace on anything, not even the buttons of your uniform.
“…how much is this going to hurt?” you asked cautiously. You knew a dress this extravagant wasn’t cheap.
Sam leaned on the counter again. “Oh, don’t worry” He paused dramatically, clearly fascinated by how your whole body tensed as you worried internally. “This goes on credit”
“Oh… that’s worse,” Grim whispered in horror.
Sam burst out laughing and straightened again, quite satisfied with himself at the sight of the desperate, horrified expressions on both your faces.
“Relax. Consider it… an investment in the chaos the two of you are about to unleash at an international diplomatic event”
You and Grim exchanged a knowing look.
Yeah… that sounded about right.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
Fleur City shone as if it had stepped straight out of a Renaissance painting.
The warm glow of lanterns spilled across the white stone streets, reflecting in long ribbons of gold and amber. Garlands of flowers hung from the balconies, woven so densely that the scent of wildflowers lingered in the air, sweet and heavy. From somewhere along the cobblestone corners came music: violins, laughter, the slow rhythmic pulse of festival trumpets.
Around you there were people, so many people. It was barely possible to walk peacefully through the streets. Carnival decorations and food and trinket stalls made both you and Grim stop every five steps.
And everywhere… masks. White porcelain, golden filigree, feathers, silks, velvet. Cloaks gliding over the stone and polished shoes gleaming in the lanternlight. There were no faces, no questions, no names.
You adjusted the delicate fabric mask slightly as you moved with the crowd, letting the flow of festival guests carry you naturally along the wide avenue leading to the central plaza. In the daylight the dress blended in exactly as Sam had promised: elegant and formal, perfectly matching the spirit of the festival—just another face in the tide.
Beside you, a small hooded figure walked with a rather exaggerated air of importance, little paws tapping lightly against the stone as he took one step, then another. Grim walked as if he were leading his own theatrical march toward the main stage.
“This is the best thing we’ve ever done in our lives” Even though his steps were determined, and fairly amusing to watch from your taller perspective, Grim’s words came out in a whisper; for once he had understood he needed to keep his voice down.
“You also said that when you stole extra pudding from the cafeteria” You gathered your skirt with one hand, adjusting it so you wouldn’t end up face-first on the ground. The dress was beautiful, yes, but the crinoline made walking a bit difficult.
“THAT WAS HISTORIC TOO!” Apparently his lesson in stealth hadn’t lasted long. You hid a smile behind the back of your hand.
Grim looked around at the glowing towers, the decorated bridges, the endless swirl of masked students and nobles. Your gaze drifted to the pink and violet decorations hanging between the rustic, colorful houses. One more step and you nearly collided with the long leg of someone obviously walking on stilts. You managed to turn in time and grabbed Grim so he wouldn’t get crushed under the wooden stilts.
“Woow” Grim settled into your arms and lifted his head to watch the person gracefully walking toward the end of the avenue. “This place is insane”
He wasn’t wrong.
Farther ahead there were people dressed in multicolored outfits—diamonds and pompoms, ribbons and exaggerated patterns showing off immense amounts of fabric in sleeves and trousers. Orange and red jesters, violet and burgundy ones too, with painted faces and five-pointed hats tipped with bells. The lantern lights flickered along the walls of the houses and the stone structures, turning the shop windows into vivid, deep colors. In the main plaza, dancers spun—skirts and cloaks flashing in carefully choreographed circles.
Everything around you looked mundanely normal, peaceful within the limits of what a carnival could call “peaceful.” No fire, no chaos, no problems to solve.
“With this many people, it’ll be impossible for them to find us,” Grim said as he jumped back down to the ground to keep walking.
“If you say it out loud, you’ll jinx it”
“Right. Silence. Stealth mode”
You moved deeper into the plaza, letting the enormous scale of the festival unfold around you. Masked performers breathed streams of colored fire, puppeteers staged small dramatic and amusing shows for the children, and the food stalls now had floating lanterns illuminating them in orange and ochre tones, making the shine of the food look even more appetizing.
Grim sniffed as he stopped in front of one of the stalls.
“…is that roasted meat?”
You sighed and grabbed him by the sides, lifting him until he was level with the food on the stall.
“One stall. And eat quietly”
“BEST HENCHMAN IN HISTORY!”
He jumped toward the vendor, still trying to look dignified in the ceremonial cloak—and failing completely the moment food entered the equation.
You shook your head, but you couldn’t stop the slow, dangerous smile spreading across your face as you watched him try to cram two roasted meat skewers into his mouth in one bite.
For the first time since the invitation announcement, the pressure in your chest eased. You hadn’t been left behind. You hadn’t been left out. This might not be entirely legal—and if you got caught the punishment would probably be worse than anything Ace and Deuce had ever gotten—but seeing Grim enjoy himself was worth every second you spent outside Ramshackle.
You’d do it again a thousand times. To hell with Crowley and his official invitations. You had the right to enjoy an event without worrying about running errands for the headmaster.
“Target located” Grim sniffed the air again after finishing the meat. “Honey buns with a light sugar glaze, ten steps ahead”
What a remarkable nose
“Grim, slow down,” you said, walking after him at a reasonably quick pace.
“You’re the slow one” Unfortunately, he had a point about the damn crinoline. You were starting to hate it a little more with every step.
You lifted the skirt with both hands, mentally calculating how much more you could afford to spend at the festival. Considering how much this cat ate, and how little you had managed to eat thanks to the nerves from traveling through the mirror, you’d have to find some way to stop Grim from devouring everything in sight.
“I said one stall!” You barely raised your voice, but Grim ignored you, as always when he didn’t want to hear that you were right.
As you followed him, out of the corner of your eye you spotted a pair of figures you absolutely did not want to spot heading your way.
On the other side of the plaza, near the staircase leading to the main road toward the cathedral, a very specific formation of figures held a perfect alignment: Crowley at the front, with seven leaders behind him, each displaying different levels of diplomacy, excitement, or boredom.
Riddle walked with a rigid posture even in this festive setting, though he wasn’t oblivious to the fun happening around him. Leona was slouched, visibly bored at being dragged into an official event. Azul carried himself with a calculating air, probably already visualizing his next clients. Kalim was the most energetic of them all, practically glowing even while standing still. Vil was sculpted perfection, every step immaculate. Idia was trying to occupy the smallest possible amount of physical and emotional space. And Malleus simply followed the flow of people, hands behind his back, looking around with complete fascination.
Crowley, meanwhile, walked with an annoyingly radiant and pompous stride while speaking with another figure: tall, composed, with a firm and controlled posture. If you had to guess, that person wrapped in an air of ceremonial authority must have been someone important from Noble Bell College.
Your throat let out a tiny squeak and your shoulders curled inward. You were in danger mode.
You stepped sideways, avoiding turning your back on them all, but also not walking backward so obviously that it would make it clear your focus was on those figures who weren’t threatening at first glance—but were extremely inconvenient for your enjoyment. You reached Grim just as he was about to buy a small honey bun and crouched to whisper in his ear.
“Don’t even think about moving”
Grim’s small body went completely rigid. “What’s going on?”
“If you turn two degrees to the left,” you continued, the dorm leaders getting closer and closer, “you’ll be in their direct line of sight”
Grim, completely ignoring your instruction, slowly followed your gaze, barely turning his body to get a good look. Then he inhaled so sharply he nearly vacuumed the honey bun straight into his mouth.
You clamped a hand over his mouth and grabbed his cloak, dragging him behind the stall and hiding behind the side canvas. The vendor shot you both an irritated look but said nothing, another customer was already asking for an entire bag of buns.
“Okay, new plan” You let go of Grim’s mouth but still signaled for silence. Now he had to act like a normal familiar. “We walk calmly in the opposite direction, and you… quiet”
Grim nodded with the intensity of someone trying very hard to be stealthy and stay out of trouble, still holding the sweet in one paw. You adjusted him on your arm and stepped away from the stall.
One step. Then another. And a third.
Someone in the crowd suddenly turned toward your direction. You bumped their shoulder, jolting back in surprise.
“—Sorry!” you blurted automatically, trying to step backward.
Exactly the wrong move.
Because stepping back made you collide with someone else in the crowd. Your shoe stepped on an expensive, heavy cloak, and as you lifted your foot to avoid ruining it further, your heel caught on the uneven stone. You felt your balance tip backward.
For one horrible second, the world tilted; the lantern light, the masks, the people, the realization of oh yes, this is how we die… physically or from embarrassment, falling face-first in front of a crowd.
But the fall never came.
A gloved hand shot forward and caught your wrist just in time, stopping you a few inches before disaster.
“…please be careful,” a smooth, composed voice said. “These festival streets can be treacherous if one isn’t paying attention”
You turned your head toward the voice and saw Azul looking at you with concern...but without the slightest hint of recognition. Your disguise was working perfectly, even in a situation as dangerous as the one you were currently in.
You straightened carefully, pulse hammering, but posture controlled. Out of nervous reflex you adjusted Grim’s hood so his face was completely hidden, forcing his body to hunch so he’d look like an ordinary cat.
“Thank you,” you said in a neutral voice, though anyone paying attention might have noticed the nervous edge and the faint grinding of teeth as you forced yourself not to scream.
Azul released your wrist slowly, waiting for you to fix your dress before stepping back to a polite distance, still close enough while observing you with that sharp, polite curiosity so characteristic of someone whose entire life ran on information.
Behind him, the others had already turned, abandoning whatever conversation they had been having. Six new pairs of eyes locked onto you—the young lady unlucky enough to collide with the octopus entrepreneur.
Grim made a small strangled noise inside his hood, and you felt a tiny vibration against your arm. It was obvious he wanted to bolt as fast as his four paws could carry him, and if you were honest with yourself… you wanted to do the same.
You didn’t look at anyone in particular; certainly not at Crowley, nor at the tall, composed figure representing Noble Bell College in this diplomatic procession. You made the smallest formal bow of your head, the kind appropriate for slipping by unnoticed even after such a collision. You even tilted your hat slightly lower to cover more of your face.
“Apologies for the collision. The crowd is… lively tonight”
Vil’s gaze traveled over you from head to toe. Knowing him, he was evaluating the outfit the way an art critic would analyze a gallery piece; or in this case, the way Vil always did, searching for wrinkles, imperfections, or cracks.
That crack was about to split wide open if he didn’t stop looking at you so intently.
“Finally someone who knows how to dress appropriately,” he murmured loud enough that everyone else heard.
“Hey! We’re all dressed for the occasion,” Kalim huffed, though he didn’t sound offended.
“Yes, because we were dressed” Vil replied.
If that was the case, then point to Vil.
“Watch where you’re stepping next time” Leona exhaled through his nose.
“That is no way to address a young lady!” Vil snapped back, shooting him the most venomous look imaginable without losing an ounce of grace or letting a single wrinkle touch his face.
Leona simply crossed his arms and held Vil’s stare. The tension between rivals was thick enough to feel.
Azul took the opportunity to cut through that tension and prevent an international incident. He inclined his head toward you again, adjusting his glove.
“Well then,” he said, extending his hand toward you, palm open and facing up, “please be careful, miss—”
Your entire body went rigid in a single heartbeat. On your arm, Grim was seconds away from combusting from the stress this situation was causing him.
You returned the slight bow of your head, just formal enough not to raise suspicion despite your heart pounding at a thousand beats per minute.
“Isn’t the whole point of tonight that we don’t ask those kinds of questions?”
There was a pause long enough for you to offer a sideways smile, hoping you hadn’t sounded rude.
Vil’s lips curled upward slightly, approving, almost amused, mentally acknowledging that at least someone knew the rules of the evening.
Azul’s smile changed immediately, shifting from his usual interrogation-ready expression to one suited for social performance.
“Ah,” he murmured. “Quite right. My mistake. A masquerade loses its charm when identities come to light”
Okay. The plan was working beautifully—far better than you had expected. You made a mental note to thank Sam for that potion masking your essence, since neither Leona nor Malleus seemed suspicious of anything.
“If it helps,” you said, testing the waters a little more to confirm your theory, “I’ve never seen figures quite so… unique” Your gaze drifted across each of them. “So your identities would remain a mystery—with or without masks”
Riddle gave a small nod at your comment. “Indeed. The evening discourages such personal revelations unless they are formally necessary”
Thank the Seven that Riddle bought it. And luckily for you, it seemed Idia had too, he was muttering in the background nonstop.
“Thank the gods… minimal social interaction with anonymity settings enabled…”
You let out a quiet breath through your nose, trying to keep it as subtle as possible despite the pressure tightening in your chest during such a surreal interaction. You bowed your head again, ready to give your farewell and move along, taking your first steps toward the plaza.
That should have been the end of it.
“Although…”
Damn it, Azul.
His voice rose again, smooth and composed, turning just enough to place himself at your side as you began to walk.
“It would be negligence on my part not to ensure the safety of the young lady I nearly caused to fall”
Vil moved at the same time, with a grace so natural it was almost insulting; suddenly you had two impeccably dressed elites flanking you like the most elegant bodyguards in the world.
“Cobblestone streets tend to be uneven—especially in heels,” Vil commented, evaluating your posture. Of course he would notice that beneath all those meters of expensive fabric you were wearing heels. Not very high, but high enough to alter your height. “And the crowd is quite enthusiastic, as you mentioned earlier. You shouldn’t be wandering alone”
Azul nodded slightly, adjusting his glasses. “Particularly when a certain tendency toward accidents has already been demonstrated”
The arm holding Grim tightened slightly, drawing a faint squeak from him that only you heard. You looked from side to side, first at Azul, then at Vil, and your gaze dropped straight to the cobblestones.
Oh no. This is very bad.
Behind you, Leona’s voice sounded rough.
“Hey. Don’t crowd her”
All three of you turned to look at him. Leona was dragging a hand down his face, visibly irritated by the situation.
Vil arched a brow, stopping with runway elegance.
“I beg you pardon?”
Azul did the same, forcing you to stop as well and remain right between them. The height difference, privately, was a little funny, if you hadn’t been the center of attention for a very irritated lion.
“Courtesy…” Leona scoffed. “That’s what they call it now?”
You heard Kalim whisper, “Are they flirting?”
And Riddle respond, sounding slightly tired of his classmates, “Knowing them… yes. They are flirting”
You wanted the ground to swallow you whole.
Leona shoved both hands into his pockets, leaning back slightly as he approached, glancing sideways at your two escorts.
“The girl almost fell. You caught her. End of story. You don’t need to start an escort mission for every stranger you run into”
Vil crossed his arms and offered him a sharp smile. “And since when do you care about social manners?”
“Since watching you two circle her like peacocks in heat started giving me a headache,” Leona shot back.
You let out a quiet snort, covering your mouth with your free hand. Grim seemed to snort too, barely holding back laughter, the vibration against your chest made it obvious.
Azul released a soft sigh and pressed his fingers to his temple. “Honestly, is it necessary to reduce every refined interaction to such vulgar interpretations?”
“Yes,” he replied without hesitation, flashing them a half-smile, fangs included. “It’s funny and irritating at the same time watching you act so confident about something that isn’t one of your contracts”
The situation would have been comedic if you weren’t still stuck in the middle of it—and if you weren’t one wrong sentence away from catastrophic exposure.
Unfortunately, you locked eyes with Malleus.
He looked taller than the last time you’d seen him. A glance down confirmed it—he was wearing heeled shoes. This fae added a few extra inches whenever he felt like it, and in the process made you look even smaller.
From his height, Malleus observed you in silence. One arm rested over the other, a finger beneath his chin, studying you. As if he were chasing an echo, something about your voice, your posture, the way you held your shoulders like someone used to dealing with chaos every day.
Your heart thumped harder in your chest.
You looked away and gave another small nod, taking a step back, hoping this time you could finally continue your evening.
“I appreciate the concern, gentlemen,” you said, keeping your voice calm and neutral even though internally you were screaming. “But I assure you I would hate to delay such distinguished guests during their evening”
Both Azul and Vil inclined their heads, accepting the farewell with grace. Leona simply clicked his tongue and turned back toward the others—he had been ready to leave five minutes ago.
With elegance you weren’t even sure where you pulled from, you stepped toward the crowd, letting the skirt spin slightly as the crinoline gave the movement the air of something taken straight from a royal etiquette manual.
“Ah…”
Just that single word was enough to cut off your second escape attempt and push your frustration even higher.
The same notable figure Crowley had been speaking with earlier approached the group. The Noble Bell College uniform was immaculate. Perfect posture, perfect alignment, an expression composed, though clearly carefully practiced to appear so.
“Gentlemen,” he said calmly, “if you would be so kind as to proceed. The welcoming is prepared at the academy, and the festival program is… quite structured”
Crowley, who five minutes ago hadn’t been remotely in sight, reacted immediately, suddenly appearing from behind you and making you jump.
“Ah! Of course, of course! We wouldn’t wish to delay such a beautiful evening!”
Then the student’s eyes shifted toward you, finally registering why the seven leaders had stopped or drifted away from their intended path instead of following him.
And in that precise moment, his gaze changed to recognition.
Recognition that didn’t look good.
Not good for you, anyway.
“I must apologize,” he said, stepping toward you and placing a hand over his chest. “It seems I have committed an unforgivable lapse in courtesy”
The student bowed in a formal, precise, respectful greeting.
“I have spoken with these distinguished guests,” he continued, voice calm and controlled, “and yet I have neglected to acknowledge the presence of a lady among us. Such negligence falls below the standards of Noble Bell College… and my own.”
He straightened with the same refinement with which he had bowed and extended his hand toward you. In your stunned state, you noticed Grim become so perfectly still he could have won a gargoyle contest.
“I am Rollo Flamme,” he said. Now you could finally put a name to the face. “President of the Student Council and host of tonight’s ceremony”
Of all the people you could have drawn attention from at this event, it had to be the highest authority in the entire academy. The host himself. The worst possible person.
“And regardless of the anonymity permitted at this celebration,” Rollo continued, “it remains my responsibility to ensure that every guest within our city is treated with dignity and appropriate protection”
With his palm still extended, he took your hand and bowed again slightly, pressing a kiss against your gloved knuckles. His eyes remained locked onto yours, sharp, observant enough to make you swallow hard.
“Welcome to the festival”
Rollo straightened again and folded his hands in front of him.
“You have indicated that you do not wish to delay these gentlemen,” he continued solemnly. “A considerate sentiment”
There was a pause—and it felt heavy, considering this man still hadn’t taken his eyes off you. If you ran now he would notice. Obviously he would notice your nerves and terrible manners, and you’d look incredibly suspicious.
“But allowing a lady to wander the festival without escort amid such a crowd would be an equivalent lapse in decorum”
Vil offered him an approving smile, and judging by the look Leona was giving the blond from behind, your escape plan was now miles away from happening.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Leona muttered.
Rollo turned halfway toward the dorm leaders and Crowley. “I trust one of you would be willing to provide a brief escort to guarantee her safe passage before rejoining us at the academy”
Kalim, being the sweet, trusting, hyper-energetic Kalim, immediately raised his hand.
“Oh! I can—”
“Absolutely not,” whispered Idia in a panic. “You’ll get lost in these weird streets and probably end up buying the entire festival”
Kalim pouted but didn’t argue.
Azul stepped forward, trying to appear smooth but looking a little too eager to close this contract. “As it happens, I’m already somewhat familiar with the young lady—”
Vil moved at the same time and cut him off. “And I, naturally, would never allow someone dressed so exquisitely to be abandoned to the chaos of the central plaza”
Why do I always have to deal with the chaos? Why?
The plan had been simple: jump through the mirror without the academic staff noticing, lose yourself in the cobblestone streets, avoid eight walking disasters of charisma and complications, eat festival food, take a couple of pictures with Grim, and go home.
The universe really hates me
Crowley, watching the scene half-delighted and half-offended that he wasn’t the center of attention, fanned himself dramatically. “Ah, such gallantry among my students! How my heart swells! You seven are the pride of Night Raven College!”
Rollo folded his hands behind his back, perfectly composed.
“There you have it,” he said calmly. “A simple solution”
And with that, Crowley and Rollo continued on their way toward who knows where—leaving you with seven distinguished students and one problematic cat who was internally seconds away from exploding or fainting.
The procession moved forward...there really was no other word for it.
The dorm leaders walked in immaculate formation along the lantern-lit avenues, and in the middle of that flock you were trying with all your strength not to implode from stress. Grim shifted into both your arms, leaning against you; it was safer that way in case he wanted to whisper something instead of accidentally yelling something incriminating. Now he sat like a very tense, very judgmental decorative accessory beneath his velvet hood.
Kalim bounced closer first. “So! You’re from another school?” he asked cheerfully.
Alright. Time for lies—and the greatest skill for stealth missions: improvising without hesitation.
“I’m not part of the official exchange,” you said calmly, which was technically true. “I came with my family”
Which wasn’t entirely true… though if you counted Grim and the seven people around you who apparently didn’t know the definition of personal space, then maybe it was a… creative reinterpretation.
Azul also approached, much closer than necessary. “I see. Attending an event of this scale independently suggests either excellent connections… or excellent planning”
Vil added lightly, adjusting his sleeve where a button had come undone. The small imperfection clearly offended him. “Or excellent taste”
The button snapped back into place and his gaze returned forward, specifically toward you. “No one assembles such an outfit without understanding the magnitude of the evening”
You turned slightly and offered a half-smile. “I had help.”
Extremely true. Sam deserved several medals, and probably hazard pay.
Grim shifted in your arms, trying to lean closer to whisper something, but halfway through his cloak snagged on your sleeve and you had to adjust him quickly before the hood slipped and exposed him.
Of course Azul noticed the movement beneath the cloak. “And that little companion?”
Dangerous question.
“This?” you tightened your grip slightly. “He’s my brother’s familiar. I’m taking care of him while he’s away at Night Raven College”
Malleus finally joined the conversation. One step brought him only inches behind you. “A creature temporarily bound under your supervision”
His voice was so deep you almost felt it rather than heard it. A chill ran down your spine. “That explains such an elaborate cloak. A responsible choice on your part. You understand how to present the creature with the dignity it deserves”
Grim puffed up slightly beneath the fabric.
“He appears loyal,” Malleus added, his voice calm and serene now, still close, but with the strange sense of omniscience that came from his towering height.
At the comment, Grim let out a small emotional squeak and fought very hard not to respond. You rested a hand over his back through the hood. “He is,” you nodded.
Also extremely true… sometimes… when it suited him… especially when food was involved.
“What kind of creature is the familiar?” Kalim asked, leaning closer again, dangerously close to stepping on your skirt.
You grabbed the fabric with one hand while adjusting Grim onto your shoulder. “He’s a cat. A bit grumpy, especially in the mornings.”
No lie there. Grim tried to object, maybe by digging his claws slightly into your shoulder, but before he could you bounced him upward a little. He made a tiny complaint and stayed still.
“So cute!” Kalim said excitedly. “Hey! Does he need something to eat?”
“No! No!” you answered quickly. “He’s fine, he already ate a lot a few minutes ago.”
The last thing you needed was for this ray of sunshine to feed him the way he had with cookies back in Scarabia.
“Your familiar eats human food?” Riddle asked, clearly puzzled.
“…sometimes”
You wobbled slightly as if thinking, though really you were scrambling for the right words to fix the mistake you’d just made. “Not much—mostly fish. But there was a familiar food stall a few blocks from the central plaza, so I bought him a little treat”
You patted him gently to demonstrate how well-behaved he was.
“Aww, what a shame,” Kalim deflated. “I would’ve liked to feed the little guy”
The little guy shifted slightly, probably remembering the same thing: the time Kalim had stuffed him with endless cookies. Grim shrank into your shoulder and whispered barely audibly.
“Prefect… when we’re done, I want another snack”
That sounded so Grim you had to pinch him to keep the humiliation of staying quiet from going to his head.
“Don’t be discouraged,” Azul said, stepping beside Kalim. “We were allowed to enjoy the festival, so we may indulge a little in the culinary arts of this city”
“You’re right!” Kalim brightened instantly. “We can try the éclairs! Or croissants! Baguettes! The honey buns from that stall behind us!”
What a combination of flour and carbohydrates. But it sounded so good...and sooo necessary.
All day Grim hadn’t let you eat in peace except for breakfast, the little gremlin had devoured snack after snack. You, on the other hand…you were actually starving.
Maybe the discomfort showed on your face, or maybe your stomach growled beneath all those layers of fabric. Either way, Vil noticed.
“Perhaps we could offer our escorted young lady something sweet?” His hands folded behind his back as he leaned slightly toward you.
“That seems appropriate, although…” Riddle added thoughtfully, “young lady, would you actually like us to treat you to something?”
In theory, yes. In practice… was it sensible to let them buy you something? You really did want to eat, and you hadn’t brought much money. Well...Grim had already spent more than half of it on everything he’d devoured, plus a small trinket he bought from a craft stall.
“I wouldn’t want to trouble you with such a triviality,” you began calmly. “It would be imprudent—”
“Nonsense!” Kalim cut you off. “We can buy you anything you want!”
Before you could even think of a counterargument, he had already rushed to a nearby stall and paid for five different types of sweets. The others stopped to wait for him, and you took the moment to adjust your skirt and Grim on your shoulder. Standing still, Grim quietly stretched himself across both shoulders like a scarf and settled there, balanced enough for when you started walking again.
“Can I eat some of what he brings?” he whispered.
“No,” you whispered back, barely moving your lips.
When Kalim returned, he carried two paper bags in both hands.
In one bag he had bought eight different flavors of macarons—some common ones like chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla. Others were bizarre flavor combinations you would have preferred to donate to the ghosts of Ramshackle.
In the other bag were two chocolate éclairs, two pains au chocolat, two crescent pastries with a bright glaze, and two honey-cinnamon puff pastries.
A direct trip to diabetes.
The bag with the assorted sweets he handed to Riddle with such enthusiasm that the redhead actually leaned back a little from the force. Riddle blinked once, twice, then opened the bag and tilted his head to inspect the contents. He passed an éclair to Idia, who took it with a trembling hand and immediately retreated to eat it where no one could see him.
With the other bag still in hand, Kalim offered you a strawberry macaron. “Here! Take it! My treat!” he said with the brightest, warmest smile you had ever seen at NRC.
You hesitated for a second, but the sweet was so perfectly made, round and glossy, that refusing it would have felt like a crime. You took it delicately with your fingers and gave it a small bite instead of shoving the whole thing into your mouth out of habit. You might have been hungry, but manners and appearances mattered right now.
“How is it? Is it good?” Kalim was already handing out the other macarons to the rest, even to Leona, who took one between two fingers and inspected it with mild disinterest.
“It’s delicious. Thank you for such a generous gesture” You took another bite and the macaron was gone. You brushed your hands together and were about to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, but stopped yourself, licking your lip to catch any crumbs.
Riddle pulled a handkerchief from his jacket pocket and offered it to you. “Here”
You took it with slight embarrassment and wiped the corners of your mouth. When you tried to return it, he shook his head. “Don’t worry. You can keep it”
You looked down at the handkerchief, delicate, red with black embroidered details. His initial stitched neatly in one corner. It had the look of something personal, perhaps a gift from his mother or something he had commissioned himself.
“Are you sure?” you asked, uneasy about keeping something so personal.
“I’m sure. It’s a handkerchief, it doesn’t carry emotional weight” He accepted the bag of sweets back from Kalim as the other boy handed him a macaron.
You looked at the handkerchief again and folded it neatly in four. The only problem now was where to put it. A mischievous idea crossed your mind for less than a second: tuck it between your breasts the way people used to do to tease admirers.
But no. You absolutely could not do that...though it would have been hilarious.
Instead, you slipped it into the folds of your skirt, improvising a small pocket. After adjusting the dress and crinoline again, you waited for the group to resume walking. The sun was beginning to dip, the first orange rays of evening spreading across the sky.
This time Leona resumed walking beside you.
His stride was heavy, hands in his pockets, his expression carrying such profound boredom it could qualify as an art form. You had no idea what he had done with the macaron; whether he ate it or casually discarded it somewhere with stealth so refined that no one noticed.
All the while he had been watching you fuss with your skirt, holding it with one hand so it wouldn’t tangle around your feet.
Then, with the faintest sigh, as if remembering he shouldn’t be too obvious about observing others, he stepped a little closer.
“Watch your step,” he murmured low enough that only you could hear. “These streets are uneven”
It sounded suspiciously like Azul’s earlier warning, but filtered through Leona’s flavor of bluntness.
Before you could answer or adjust your pace properly, he extended his arm, wiith no ceremony, as if it meant absolutely nothing to him.
But the gesture itself was pure etiquette.
“If you trip again,” he added in a flat tone without even looking at you, “that bird’s going to make us repeat this whole escort nonsense. I’m not dealing with that again”
In simple terms: take Leona’s arm so this ends faster.
Your eyes drifted to his face, half-hidden behind a mask, his hair tied in a simple ponytail. His lazy aura was still there, but layered beneath it.
Even if he showed little interest in events like this, the fact that he was wearing a mask at all was already significant. To you—the mysterious, nameless young lady—he was simply another stranger. You had no reason to recognize the second prince of Sunset Savanna.
And that gave him the advantage. If he wanted to act with the princely manners he had unfortunately been taught, he would use them, especially if it earned him a few points in front of the others. If everyone else was interacting with you, he wasn’t about to sit out.
To the passing crowd, it simply looked like a stranger offering steady support to a young woman in a crowded foreign city whose shoes were poorly suited for cobblestones.
You gently hooked your hand around his arm. “Thank you”
Leona said nothing, just clicked his tongue and gave the faintest nod.
The streets narrowed as you moved toward the academy district. The lanternlight softened. The crowd thinned just enough that conversation no longer sounded like shouting over the festival and began to feel… almost private.
Which unfortunately meant questions; Polite ones, curious ones, persistent ones.
Kalim, as usual, took it upon himself to begin. “So how did you arrange this visit?” he asked. “You said you didn’t come with the official delegations”
“That’s right,” you replied—truthfully. “My family organized the trip. I’m mostly… exploring while they attend to their obligations.”
Which, technically, was also true.
Azul slipped smoothly into the conversation. “Exploring an unfamiliar city suggests remarkable confidence,” he said, adjusting his glasses and smiling the way he did just before landing a new client. “Or considerable experience”
“A bit of both”
“Have you attended events of this scale before?” Riddle asked next, his tone measured but curious rather than strict. “The protocol at gatherings like this can be… overwhelming”
“Not exactly like this,” you admitted. “But I’ve dealt with large gatherings. And… unpredictable situations”
Behind everyone, you heard Idia mutter quietly: “…that sounds like nightmare difficulty in social interactions…”
Frankly, the poor guy already looked like he was about to log out of the event if they didn’t reach their destination soon.
“Yet you don’t seem intimidated,” Malleus said, speaking over Idia’s murmuring.
“I learned that most disasters start the same way,” you replied, pausing to choose your words carefully. “If nothing is exploding yet and no one is screaming… things are usually going well”
That comment earned you seven pairs of eyes.
Because what you had just said perfectly summarized life at a certain academy where mornings often began with students yelling, magic spiraling out of control despite professors supposedly teaching discipline, and overblots happening far too often.
Leona glanced sideways at you and huffed thoughtfully. Azul simply folded his arms and seemed to consider your answer.
“An interesting philosophy,” he said, tapping his fingers against his arm. “Quite pragmatic… and resilient”
Grim shifted slightly on your shoulders, practically vibrating with the effort not to shout HNYA, we’ve fought literal overblots every month, you have no idea!
You scratched his head lightly over the hood as a warning, and the trembling stopped. Riddle stepped forward slightly and inclined his head toward the gesture, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
“Your brother must trust you greatly if he left his familiar with you”
“He does,” you nodded.
Riddle responded with a thoughtful hum. “Responsibility reflects well on both of you”
You glanced at him from the corner of your eye and smiled.
If he knew how responsible you really were—sneaking into a festival and academic event without authorization, in a country far from the island, in a world you barely understood—well… that comment would collapse like a badly built card tower.
But as you watched him, you also noticed something else.
The way Riddle politely guided passersby out of your path. Azul adjusting his pace so you wouldn’t have to walk faster. Vil subtly steering the group away from the rougher patches of cobblestone without saying a word. Even Idia hovered closer than usual, like some socially terrified wizard who had nonetheless decided he was the party’s defensive mage in a DnD campaign.
Leona kept his stride steady beside you, perfectly matching your pace. And Malleus remained watchful, hands ready to guide a passerby aside or catch you if you stumbled.
The shift was obvious, they weren’t escorting a random girl anymore...They were engaging with her.
“It’s unusual to meet someone at this sort of event who speaks as directly as you do,” Azul said, almost as if the conversation he wanted was simply… a conversation.
Vil nodded from the front of the group. “Most attendees here are desperately trying to impress,” he said, turning his head toward you. “Whereas you, my lady, manage to impress simply by walking”
“And you’re easy to talk to too! It’s really nice!” Kalim added brightly.
From behind you, Idia muttered: “…low-pressure NPC with unexpectedly high dialogue quality…”
Oh. My. Sevens.
They’re flirting.
They are actually flirting.
And they have absolutely no idea that the person they’re flirting with is you—the extremely human, magicless prefect who attracts catastrophic overblot-level disasters like seasonal colds. All you needed was a mask, an expensive dress, and no identity.
Suddenly the seven of them were treating you like royalty.
Your cheeks flushed faintly pink. Part of you wondered—just for a second—if you could take advantage of this a little longer. It wasn’t every day these well-trained disasters behaved like gentlemen.
Another part of you was on the verge of imploding because the same seven who usually competed in ego wars (Kalim excluded) now seemed oddly invested in your company.
Please do not let this night end with all seven of them having a crush on me.
You would never survive looking them in the eye tomorrow. One or two you could handle.
Seven? That would end in a battlefield.
Ahead of you, the academy gates came into view. Tall. Ornate. Illuminated by elegant lanterns while guests streamed inside.
The perfect place for this illusion to end, before their gazes got any more intense. Your steps slowed slightly, and the others adjusted automatically.
Beyond the gates, upper balconies glowed with light and stained-glass windows scattered multicolored shards across the courtyard.
Vil glanced toward them. “A beautiful aesthetic, exactly what one would expect from the student council president,” he commented, violet eyes bright with approval. “Fleur City always delivers the finest spectacles”
Leona exhaled softly beside you. “Tch. If this thing runs longer than it should, I’m leaving”
Your lips curled faintly upward. That was such a Leona comment.
And then Idia, apparently unusually chatty tonight, talked loud enough for everyone to hear. “…pretty sure this ends with a final boss spawning in the middle of the hall at biblical difficulty…”
You couldn’t stop the laugh.
You tried to make it sound like a small huff—but the laugh slipped out naturally. Bright, familiar, too familiar.
The sound hung in the air like a memory someone had just pulled out of a locked drawer. Leona’s arm stiffened under your hand; Azul’s eyes sharpened; Vil tilted his head; Kalim blinked; Riddle froze; Idia looked like someone who had just connected two impossible dots; And Malleus’s gaze deepened.
Your pulse skyrocketed, you closed your eyes for half a second and pressed your lips together.
Idiot.
You cleared your throat quickly and stepped back. “I'm sorry,” you said lightly, smoothing your tone. “Just… the moment”
You released Leona’s arm. Another step back gave them space as the academy gates loomed only a short distance away.
“I believe this is where our paths separate,” you said with an elegant bow. “You have fulfilled your duty admirably”
Azul recovered first. “Well,” he said, though his eyes were still attentive, “this has been… unexpectedly pleasant.”
Kalim waved energetically. “I hope you enjoy the rest of the festival!”
Leona looked at your hand, then folded his arms again. “Watch where you step.”
Malleus returned your bow with one hand over his chest. “If fate allows it, I would welcome another conversation.”
You straightened. “Then perhaps fate will be kind.”
You picked Grim up in both arms, because you needed something to do with your hands, and turned toward the academy entrance.
One step...then another. Trying to look composed, just another guest entering the celebration.
Internally? You were about three seconds away from completely losing your nerve.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
The moment the academy doors swallowed you, you didn’t stop, nor you didn’t slow down; in fact, you sped up.
You didn’t admire the architecture, the vaulted stone corridors, the candlelit banners, the elegant streams of guests drifting toward the grand hall.
You took a side corridor, then another, then passed through an open arch into a quieter cloister, with tall windows and ivy climbing the walls. Only when the distant noise of the courtyard softened into a manageable murmur did you finally exhale.
“…Okay,” Grim whispered from your arms. “…we’re still alive.”
“Barely.” Your lips tightened, the pressure in your chest still fighting to break free.
“That laugh almost killed us.”
“I know, Grim.” You leaned against the cold stone column and adjusted his hood so you could see his face.
“…those idiots seemed to like you, huh?” His eyes bulged slightly, and judging by his posture he was as close to a stress-induced meltdown as you were.
You shut your eyes at the memory. “Don’t remind me… that’s a problem”
“I’m glad to see my earlier concern wasn’t unfounded”
The lantern light flickered softly across the cloister floor. Somewhere deeper inside the academy, the music began again, more structured now, more ceremonial.
Why? Why can’t I have one moment of peace?
Your spine stiffened instantly, you turned.
At the entrance of the cloister stood Rollo with a posture so perfect it could belong to a movie villain. Hands clasped behind his back, expression calm and attentive. The lanternlight traced a warm outline around him… almost like flames.
“I trust the escort provided by Night Raven College proved sufficient,” he said calmly. Grim froze again like a gargoyle—after ducking his head and burrowing into your chest.
You inclined your head politely. “More than sufficient, President Flamme. Your hospitality is… thorough”
“It is my responsibility,” he replied. “A host must ensure that no guest experiences discomfort within our city”
He stepped closer, not intruding, simply shortening the conversational distance with careful etiquette. “I must admit,” he continued, thoughtful rather than stern, “it is rare to encounter attendees whose affiliation is not immediately apparent”
Another step forward. You stayed exactly where you were, clutching Grim like a plush toy.
“May I ask…” he said, choosing his words carefully, as if trying to avoid creating a scene, “whether you come from another academy?”
You didn’t allow yourself to hesitate. “My family travels frequently. I accompany them this season” The answer came out quickly, too quickly to sound completely natural.
Which, technically… wasn’t entirely false.
If one ignored the circumstances of that accompaniment.
“And do you personally practice magic?”
A simple question. Simple—and judging by the atmosphere this man radiated, a dangerous one. You didn’t know why, but the way Rollo always remained composed and asked such direct questions made something in your instincts prickle.
Your gaze dropped briefly to Grim as you scratched his head, forcing a small smile like you were remembering a relative who didn’t actually exist.
“My brother is the gifted one in the family” You looked back at him. “He’s the one formally enrolled at Night Raven College”
Rollo’s eyes sharpened slightly. “I see” His gaze lowered toward Grim’s hood. “And that bundle is a familiar, I assume?”
“Correct,” you replied, adjusting Grim again; your arms were starting to ache. The cat was definitely getting fat. “He belongs to my brother, I care for him while he’s occupied.”
His eyes studied you for a moment, like someone inspecting the symmetry of a cathedral window. If he was looking for something suspicious, he didn’t say it aloud.
But he made you sweat. A cold drop slid down your spine, you were getting tired of this much stress.
“How fortunate,” he said at last, allowing you to breathe again. “To have family capable of assuming such responsibility”
He and Riddle would probably get along, you thought. Both had that particular pride in responsibility and decorum. Which made it odd that Rollo wasn’t currently with the NRC delegation discussing formalities with Riddle.
Why wasn’t he there with them?
“In my experience,” Rollo continued quietly, walking past you to look toward the garden beyond the cloister, “those born without magic often develop… a clearer perspective on consequences”
You frowned slightly, unsure where that comment was going. “Perhaps,” you replied neutrally.
His gaze returned to you. Now he stood directly in front of you, but his posture wasn’t interrogative, although something about the moment felt like the beginning of a tense conversation.
Great. Add another person to the list of people you had to be careful speaking around. As if dealing with every student at NRC wasn’t already exhausting enough.
“At Noble Bell, we place great value on the upbringing of our guests,” he said. His voice remained firm and formal. “Often, that reveals more than titles or affiliations”
A polite way of saying tell me about your background.
And what a background that was.
“What does your family do, if I may ask?”
Your eyes widened slightly. You remembered questions like this from your own world...a little classist, a little creepy, if you were being honest.
Your mind started spinning. Whatever you said now would have consequences—and could unravel your lie instantly.
Rich merchants? Too easy to verify.
Minor nobility? Far too risky.
Foreign lineage? Absolutely not.
You needed something visible, difficult to check, socially plausible… and open to interpretation.
“…performance,” you said finally, tilting your head with a small smile.
Rollo narrowed his eyes slightly, mirroring the tilt of your head. “Performance”
“My family works within musical circles.” You stepped toward the cloister columns, letting your eyes drift toward the small garden to buy yourself a breath of space from his scrutiny. “Ceremonial events, private patronage, festivals like this… occasionally.”
Technically…not entirely false.
If one counted the endless chaos-filled performances NRC dragged you into cleaning up afterward.
“And you?” he asked, moving to stand beside you.
“Me… what?” You had been staring at a flower you thought was an orange lily-of-the-valley and hadn’t processed the question. Your body turned slightly toward him, hip angled casually.
“What do you practice?”
“Ah…” Your expression faltered for half a second in embarrassment. You hadn’t prepared that answer.
“Vocal training.” Your eyes returned to the garden. “Beginner”
If yelling at Grim every morning so he wouldn’t make you late for class counted as vocal training. Or shouting at Ace and Deuce when their clown-level stupidity dragged you into disasters. Enough practice to develop excellent lungs.
“Singing,” you finished.
For one terrible second you thought you had overplayed it. But Rollo didn’t react, he simply nodded.
“A disciplined art,” he said. His brows lifted slightly, careful not to appear judgmental. “Music, when practiced with devotion, reflects order.”
He extended his hands in front of him, left hand outward. “Structure” Right hand outward. “Harmony” His palms opened, fingers long and precise. “The sacred ceremonies of this city rely greatly on vocal precision.” His head turned toward the distant sound of a choir rising from the main hall. “A poorly trained chorus can ruin an entire liturgical sequence”
You followed his gaze toward the archway leading to the side corridor and listened to the choir for a few seconds. “I prefer small audiences.”
“A wise preference,” Rollo nodded, exhaling softly in time with the rising harmony of the chorus. “True refinement rarely requires spectacle”
You leaned slightly to study his face—pure curiosity. His expression softened for a moment under the layered voices of the choir, as if the music were something sacred to him.
The moment lasted only a few seconds. Then he composed himself again, hands folded neatly before him, his attention returning to you. You straightened as well.
“You speak with unusual composure for someone outside the academic delegations,” he said, stepping closer. “Most visitors tonight are eager to attract attention”
You pressed your lips together in a small thoughtful pout, tilting your head toward the music as if weighing the idea. Thinking, and thinking.
“It’s easier to listen first…” You gave him a crooked smile. “Attention can be exhausting sometimes”
Rollo exhaled again—subtle, but visible. “Yes…” His eyes lingered on yours. “…it certainly can be”
Then, like a dramatic punctuation mark in a poorly timed story, a massive bell rang out. The sound cracked through the academy like thunder; deep, heavy and close. The vibration rolled through the stone around you.
“It seems the ceremony is about to begin.”
You turned toward the corridor as the footsteps of guests echoed more strongly through the halls, a tide moving toward the grand hall.
Rollo adjusted his attire, the robe, even the large hat, then extended his hand to you exactly as he had earlier in the plaza, the other hand behind his back.
“It would be improper to allow a guest unfamiliar with the academy to navigate the inner corridors alone during a formal assembly”
Ah… damn
“I will escort you personally.” There was no room for debate. Decision made. End of discussion.
Refusing now would be far more suspicious than accepting.
“You are very thorough, President Flamme,” you said with a bow that nearly reached the floor, holding Grim with one arm and your hat with the other so it wouldn’t slip.
“Thoroughness prevents disorder,” he replied calmly.
He waited patiently for your hand. When you placed it in his, his fingers closed gently around yours. The cold edge of his ring brushed your skin even through the glove. “This way”
The academy corridors unfolded ahead of you. Candles lined the walls in strict rows, the stained glass windows were fading under the last rays of sunset. Immaculate white columns framed the space while the ceremonial atmosphere gathered like a curtain before a stage performance.
“For someone outside the formal delegations,” Rollo commented as you approached the reading hall entrance, “you carry yourself with remarkable composure”
“I’ve learned to adapt quickly,” you said, tilting your head slightly. That, at least, was the most honest thing you had said all day.
“A valuable skill.”
Grim’s small claws pressed into your sleeve, his silent signal that things were going very wrong.
Ahead, the corridor opened. Golden light from enormous chandeliers flooded the hall, marble floors gleamed beneath towering stained-glass pillars, the ceremonial music swelled as hundreds of voices gathered at the center.
Rollo slowed his pace as you approached and gently guided you closer so the entire hall opened before your view.
“The seating is organized by delegation,” he explained, gesturing upward with his free hand. “However, independent guests may observe from the upper galleries”
Translation: He was personally installing you in the best observation point in the building.
Most likely surrounded by staff, highly visible, no escape routes.
Wonderful.
He pointed toward a marble staircase rising along the hall wall. “From there you will have a perfect view”
You lifted your gaze toward the upper gallery, marble and stone just as ornate as the rest of the hall, and quite spacious.
“If you require anything, attendants will be nearby” Then he released your hand.
Standing straight as a ceremonial statue, he bowed once more—legs aligned perfectly like a prince finishing a formal greeting. “I trust the presentation will justify your attendance”
And with that, he left.
Once again, you were alone with Grim.
“…hey… henchman…” a small whisper came from inside the cloak.
“…yeah?” You still hadn’t taken your eyes off Rollo’s retreating figure down the corridor.
“We have VIP seats”
“…yeah”
Grim sighed. You felt his tail go limp across your shoulder. “…this night is going spectacularly”
You released a long breath. “…absolutely.”
Then you turned and started up the stairs.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
The bell never finished its final resonance.
One moment the reading hall was perfectly synchronized with the ceremony, waiting for the famous magical bell artifact to sound… and the next moment fire.
Not the warm glow of decorative candles lining the hall. Not a ceremonial brazier. Not a controlled magical flame meant to add theatrical flair.
These were real flames, hungry ones, full of magic—and disturbingly selective.
They burst upward along the cathedral columns in violent ribbons of orange while the massive bell roared like a living thing. Heat tore through the hall, guests screamed, the polished order of the ceremony collapsed instantly into panic.
“My magic—!”
“It’s not activating!”
“What’s happening?!”
The sound spread in waves, confusion becoming fear, fear becoming absolute chaos.
From the upper gallery, smoke already curling over the carved railing, you clutched Grim tightly to your chest.
“This has officially turned into a disaster!” you inhaled as deeply as you could, staring down at the inferno rising below.
“HNYA!! FOO! FOO!” Grim tried blowing at the approaching flames. “PREFECT, THE FIRE’S GETTING CLOSER!”
“I CAN SEE THAT!”
Guests surged toward exits in disorganized waves, assistants shouted directions nobody followed, sparks rained down as part of the decorative canopy collapsed in a burst of embers.
You backed against the stone wall, keeping distance from the fire. The flames were climbing quickly now, you could feel them licking the hem of your skirt. You yanked the fabric away and moved sideways along the wall toward the corridor exit.
“If this dress burns,” you said with deadly seriousness, even as the smoke made your breathing ragged, “I swear by the Seven, Grim, I will make you work overtime to pay off our debt to Sam”
“THAT’S YOUR PRIORITY RIGHT NOW!?”
“DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH THIS FABRIC COSTS?!”
A small explosion cracked beside you and you hurried your steps. You pulled off your hat and held it over your nose, shielding both you and Grim from the smoke.
The bell thundered again. But now it wasn’t announcing a ceremony, or the hour, or the arrival of magic into a new era.
It was weaponized.
“…Okay,” you muttered, forcing yourself to stay calm and conserving oxygen as best you could. Your eyes scanned the gallery exits, fallen chandeliers, and the storm of wildflower petals drifting through the hall. “Time to save their asses… again.”
The bell roared, the metallic blast split the air so violently the stained-glass windows trembled, and with that resonance, more petals erupted into the burning air.
At first it looked almost beautiful, orange petals floating down toward the flames, dozens, then hundreds. A storm of glowing flowers falling from the bell tower like drifting embers.
One brushed the sleeve of a fleeing mage, the flower ignited bright red on contact, its petals burned from within. Smoke rose as the student’s spell collapsed instantly, magic ripped out of the air like someone unplugging reality itself.
“My magic—! It’s gone!”
Another flower fell, another flare, another failed spell. Understanding spread faster than the fire.
“They’re draining it—!”
“Don’t let them touch you!”
More petals rained down, brushing cloaks, masks, bare hands, triggering bursts of flame wherever they landed, leaving scorched fabric and a dead silence where magic should have answered.
The grand hall—seconds ago filled with the most skilled magical students from several academies—was now packed with people who couldn’t conjure a single spark.
Grim twisted in your arms. “PREFECT THIS IS BAD—REALLY BAD—”
You saw one flower drifting toward you and flattened yourself against the wall. The corridor behind you was already engulfed in flames, the staircase was starting to burn. You couldn’t stop the petal gliding over the gallery railing straight toward your sleeve.
It touched the fabric…Nothing happened. No flame, no burn, no magic drain. Because there was nothing to drain, the petal simply slid off your sleeve and landed harmlessly on the floor.
You lifted your arm, no damage. You squeezed Grim tighter against your chest and turned toward the stairs.
“It only drains magic!” you shouted over the roar of the fire.
“That means—”
“That means,” you snapped, voice sharp with the absolutely terrible decision you were about to make, “while everyone else is getting drained—”
You took the stairs two at a time, dodging small flames licking across the marble. “—someone without magic is the most useful person in the entire building!”
Grim’s eyes went wide, he realized it instantly. The only one who could move freely through this chaos…was you.
Without thinking twice you leapt the final stretch of stairs, landing inelegantly on the main floor. Before the flames could reach the hem of your dress you yanked the fabric aside and bolted across the hall.
“Hot! Hot! Hot!” Yes, talking while running through a smoke-filled hall was stupid, but it was the only way to vent the stress as you sprinted through the wide arches.
And at the center of the inferno...the seven dorm leaders stood in formation, imposing order on chaos the only way they knew how; loudly, stubbornly.
“Clear evacuation routes!” shouted Riddle. “We need civilians out—now!”
Idia was shouting too, panic turning his brain into a rapid-fire analysis machine. “The flowers are linked to the bell! It’s a distributed power source!”
Kalim and Azul were already dousing nearby flames with water magic. Even Malleus, with his power weakened, had air swirling around him like a contained cyclone, deflecting falling petals.
All seven were staring upward toward the tower. Where the bell still rang, where more flowers kept falling, and where one man stood watching the chaos below with chilling superiority.
Rollo.
“This world has suffered too long under the rule of magic!” he shouted, completely unhinged. His staff swung wildly, sending waves of burning flowers across the hall. “Power brings only arrogance! Destruction! Chaos!”
Another bell strike, more petals, the last scraps of magic began to fail.
“I will end this suffering!” His voice cracked into something almost like a sob. “Even if the flames must purify this city!”
Grim buried his face deeper in the cloak against your shoulder. “…yeah okay… he’s lost it”
The leaders moved before you could blink. All seven redirected the remaining magic they could muster, pushing the falling flowers away in bursts of wind—though the currents also fed the fire.
“Watch the flames!” shouted Vil, already extinguishing a decorative banner that had caught fire.
Leona had launched himself toward a pillar, dodging both the flames and the falling flowers with the kind of speed he only used during Magift. With King’s Roar, he turned every piece of furniture already on fire into sand.
Tiny grains scattered through the air as more flowers fell from the bell tower, only to dissolve the moment they touched the drifting sand.
“NO!” shouted Rollo, staggering slightly. “Magic must disappear! Even if I must burn this city to its foundation, I will finish what I started!”
The flames burst upward again, bathing the entire reading hall in violent orange and red light, smoke was already swallowing the last breathable air.
You ducked as a piece of the structure collapsed, crushing a bench beneath it, splinters of wood scattered everywhere.
“Henchman!” Grim coughed. “This is the part where the villain stops being organized and becomes erratically dangerous!”
“…good call, Grim.” He was right. After dealing with multiple overblots, both of you knew the pattern by heart.
And if there was something else you’d learned after months inside a school full of wildly irresponsible magic users, and a few outright fanatics, it was this: You don’t argue with them.
Especially not a fanatic who’s currently burning down a city.
You placed Grim beneath the archway entrance of the hall, hiding him from the flames under a stretch of marble structure, the doors were already open where civilians had escaped.
Then you ran straight toward the fire, toward the seven idiots fighting inside it. Or maybe you were the idiot for charging into an inferno wearing a highly flammable dress with zero magic.
But hey—adrenaline does wonderful things to a person’s judgment.
“WAIT—!” you heard Grim squeak over the crackling fire.
You didn’t look back, your eyes were locked on the chaos ahead. You didn’t think rationally either—because sometimes the optimal solution…is interrupting a villain’s speech with physical violence.
You ran, and ran and ran. You rushed past Riddle, who only caught a glimpse of a swirl of black and red fabric from the corner of his eye, unable to see clearly through the heat distortions.
But when you planted your foot, twisted your body, and raised your arm—every dorm leader became very aware of your presence in the flames.
Crack.
Your fist slammed directly into Rollo’s face. A solid human punch, powered by frustration and adrenaline. His head snapped sideways, the speech he was about to shout died halfway up his throat.
He staggered back a step, hand flying to his cheek, his eyes went wide, pure disbelief flooding his expression. No one in his perfectly ordered life had ever punched him.
The fire flickered, then slowly began to die down. The hall inhaled again, tThe room seemed to exhale with it.
You lowered your hand slowly, breathing hard, then bent forward as the pain finally hit your knuckles.
“…ow”
The pain shot up your arm, you shook your hand violently, hopping slightly on your feet.
“Shit,” you muttered, clutching your hand for a moment before shaking it again. “That hurts...oh hell that hurts”
You looked at Rollo, voice rough from the smoke. “Could you maybe not burn down a city over your personal issues for five minutes?!”
You bent forward again. “Damn! Your bones are hard!”
Behind you—
“SHE JUST DEFEATED THE FINAL BOSS WITH A HOOK PUNCH!” shouted Idia, unable to contain what he had just witnessed.
“…okay,” you groaned through clenched teeth. “That was one of the worst decisions of my life” Under the glove, your knuckles were already swelling.
“Don’t move” The voice of Vil arrived calm, sharp, perfectly controlled now that the end-of-the-world situation had paused.
He gently took your wrist and carefully removed your glove. The skin around your knuckles was red and throbbing, you could barely move your fingers without a stab of pain running all the way to your shoulder.
“That impact could have fractured something,” he said, lifting your hand and examining it. He turned it carefully in different directions, moving your fingers slightly, visibly irritated. “Honestly. Barbaric… effective, but barbaric”
Azul stepped beside him, his tone smooth but edged with concern. “Allow us to help. We can perform basic healing spells”
Riddle was already clearing space nearby, dragging charred furniture aside. “Give the young lady air!”
Kalim rushed over as well, dodging debris and wilted flowers. “Are you okay? Does it hurt a lot?” he asked, leaning in beside Vil to inspect the damage.
You tried to pull your hand away. “I’m fine—”
Vil didn’t allow it, tightening his hold slightly, though not painfully. “Do not argue while you are injured”
“…okay”
Azul placed his fingers lightly against your knuckles. A faint spell flickered between them, much weaker than his magic normally shone. A soft blue glow wrapped around your hand, cold, like pressing an ice pack against the injury.
The swelling eased slightly, the pain dulling from a sharp stab to a manageable ache.
“This is only temporary relief,” Azul said, withdrawing his hand. Vil released your wrist as well. “You will require proper treatment later”
You flexed your fingers carefully, the muscles moved without too much resistance.
“…thanks” You slowly pulled the glove back on. The soft fabric brushed the injury and you winced faintly.
Leona had been watching the entire time with narrowed eyes, arms crossed. “Do you usually run into burning buildings?”
His tone was flat, not mocking, nor scolding, just… curious. You tilted your head, thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “Seemed like the fastest way to stop him.”
“Speed is not always the most efficient method,” remarked Malleus as he stepped closer, checking if you’d been injured anywhere besides your hand. “Do you require further assistance, miss?”
“I’m fine now, really. Thank you” Malleus inclined his head and didn’t press further.
Instead he stepped back and cast a small spell—simple for him even in his weakened state, but still effective. The air cleared instantly, smoke and ash were swept away. At last, the reading hall could breathe again, even with the aftermath of the fight still hanging in the air.
Without the smoke, the damage was impossible to ignore. Several pieces of furniture had been reduced to ash, none of the decorative fabrics had escaped the flames, some burned down to their first threads, others halfway through their tapestry. Black scorch marks stained the marble floor, several stained-glass windows were cracked. A few more seconds and the glass would have exploded.
“…I…” Behind you, a trembling voice finally broke free from its daze.
Rollo was still standing exactly where the punch had left him, his hand pressed to his cheek, shoulders rising and falling with uneven breaths. His voice was faint—barely more than a whisper. The fury that had filled it minutes ago had collapsed entirely.
“…I only wanted…” His voice cracked. “…to stop everything tied to magic… to remove the world’s pain”
His gaze drifted across the ruined hall, the ashes, the chaos his plan had unleashed. “This… is…”
His knee buckled and he nearly collapsed to the floor if you hadn’t moved quickly and caught his arm. The others stiffened immediately, stepping forward, ready to protect you from the suddenly fragile fanatic. You raised your hand to stop them.
Then you guided him toward the small central step and let him sit. Silence stretched as you allowed him time to breathe normally again.
On the floor beside you lay a violet handkerchief, scattered with ash. You picked it up, shook off as much dirt as possible, and held it out to him. Rollo stared at your hand, then at your eyes, then at the hand again.
His jaw tightened as he swallowed before finally taking the cloth and pressing it against his cheek, which was already darkening into a bruise.
His shoulders slumped. “…I have failed,” he whispered. “My obsession endangered thousands of citizens… and my students”
He took a shaky breath and bowed his head where he sat. “…I offer my most sincere apologies.”
The apology wasn’t just meant for you, or the seven standing behind you. It was for every guest, for his city, for his school, for the entire world he had nearly burned to the ground.
“The evening is ruined,” he said before trying to stand, you helped him again, slipping your arm under his. “The ceremony cannot continue under these conditions.”
He looked genuinely distressed, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. You kept your grip steady and glanced toward the entrance. Grim was still waiting there, sitting quietly—but clearly trying not to vibrate from the tension. The doorway itself was intact, and the area around it too.
Yes, the hall was wrecked…but wasn’t magic also meant to help, not just destroy?
Also… where the hell was Crowley when someone actually needed him? Of course. Useless bird.
“…is it?” you said, breaking the thick tension.
Rollo turned toward you, startled, and you gave him a small, almost amused look and shrugged again.
“The structure is still standing, fortunately” Your gaze swept the damaged hall. “And the guests are safe”
It seemed Malleus shared your thinking, he stepped forward. “A ceremony is not defined by perfection,” he said, extending his arms slightly toward the hall. “But by those who gather within it… and choose to remain”
Rollo blinked, slightly disoriented. Malleus stepped closer, now standing in front of both of you.
“If the host permits,” he continued, his eyes sincere and calm, “Night Raven College would be willing to offer a performance in place of the interrupted program”
Kalim’s eyes lit up instantly as he joined the circle. “Oh! We can do that!”
From further back, Idia fiddled nervously with the sleeves of his very extravagant suit. “…are we activating emergency concert mode…?” His face looked like someone ready to teleport back to his room and lock the door for the next week.
Azul removed his hat and tapped it against his leg, knocking loose a few ash particles clinging to its ocean-themed decorations. “A collaborative performance would calm the guests and stabilize the atmosphere”
Leona let out a loud grunt. “You guys are annoying”
Clearly uncomfortable with the resolution, he turned and walked down the hall, but not toward the exit. Instead he kicked a fairly intact bench and dropped onto it.
“…you’re not going to help, are you?” snapped Vil, arms crossed.
“I’m not singing if that’s what you’re asking, pretty boy” Leona leaned back, arms behind his head, eyes closing as if savoring what little peace remained before chaos resumed.
You snorted softly and turned your head away, covering your mouth to hide a smile.
“This night does not have to end in ashes,” Malleus said again. “Not if you decide otherwise.”
Rollo studied Malleus carefully, perhaps searching for resentment, disgust, or superiority. But Malleus didn’t look at people like that; you knew that. But that was something only you understood… and something you’d keep very quiet.
No, Rollo found none of those things. He inhaled slowly and closed his eyes.
When he exhaled, his composure had returned. “…very well”
He slipped his arm free from yours and stood straight again. “If your school truly wishes to offer such generosity… Noble Bell College will be honored.”
The decision spread through the room like a spark catching dry wood.
Rollo moved toward the doors with renewed purpose, you followed at a slight distance, your good hand lightly touching the knuckles of the injured one through the glove. When you reached the doorway, you crouched and picked Grim up. Rollo was already speaking to the attendants, directing them into motion.
Lanterns were relit, broken furniture beyond repair was carried outside, pieces that could still stand were pushed aside, some attendants used magic to clean the soot-darkened marble. Malleus helped with that as well.
Within minutes the hall had nearly returned to its original state. The musicians who had once prepared the ceremonial music brought out instruments again, students from Noble Bell College hurried to reconstruct something resembling a formal—if now acoustic—evening.
Rollo stood at the center of it all, overseeing the work, ensuring nothing was misplaced, watching the Night Raven College delegation help, issuing calm instructions to his students.
His gaze moved across the entire hall, until it returned to you.
“I wish to offer my most sincere apology,” his voice carrying clearly across the room, the bruise on his cheek was now unmistakable. “I failed my guests… and those who showed the courage I lacked in that moment.”
His bow was so deep he nearly folded in half. You tightened your grip around Grim against your chest as you watched him straighten again.
“You intervened when reason could no longer reach me,” he continued. “And for that… you have my sincere gratitude. And my apology”
How many times had people bowed or inclined themselves before you tonight? Five? Six? Who knew.
It certainly wouldn’t be the last.
“I placed you in danger inside my own academy.” You held his gaze, but this time you didn’t bow. Your neck was already starting to ache from all the earlier ones.
“I’m just glad the city isn’t on fire.”
Rollo simply nodded and looked around again. The students of Noble Bell were nearly finished restoring the hall, and the seven dorm leaders had regrouped in their usual cluster of dramatic personalities.
Their attention was now very clearly fixed on you, you could practically feel their eyes drilling into your back. Behind the thin mask you gave yourself a completely deadpan look. They couldn't possibly be more obvious. You huffed quietly and waited while the last details were set in place, a student lit the final candle on a low chandelier.
“Earlier you mentioned that your family works in the field of musical performance,” Rollo said. You turned your head so quickly your neck nearly cracked.
“And… that you yourself train your voice.”
Out of the corner of your eye you saw Kalim elbow Azul so he would stop talking to Idia and pay attention. Vil's eyes sharpened with sudden artistic interest...That was definitely not a good sign.
Rollo clasped his hands together near his chest, almost pleading. “The choir scheduled for tonight has been… interrupted”
He then extended his hands toward you. “If the young lady who helped save this ceremony would be willing—even a brief performance—” His palms opened upward. “…it might help restore calm among our guests.”
You bit the inside of your cheek to stop a tiny panicked squeak.
Kalim suddenly jumped forward, stopping far too close to your face. “That sounds fantastic!” He grabbed both your hands enthusiastically. You flinched slightly at the stab of pain in your knuckles. “Oh! Right, sorry!”
He released the injured one immediately, though his excitement didn’t dim in the slightest. “You can sing? You didn’t mention that earlier!”
You tried to respond, anything, but your mouth stayed half-open when Azul stepped closer too, wearing an expression of dangerously genuine curiosity.
“How convenient,” he said smoothly. “It seems the young lady possessed hidden talents” His sincere smile somehow made you even more nervous.
At lightning speed your eyes scanned the seven dorm leaders and Rollo, completely unable to form a single word. Every possible response in your head was immediately replaced by another, or interrupted by something someone in front of you said.
“…this is either the best narrative resolution ever or the beginning of a catastrophic post-credits scene,” Idia whispered to Riddle, he rolled his eyes and ignored the comment.
“Well then…” Vil crossed his arms, visibly expectant. “Can you?”
His smile looked like that of a film director who had just discovered his next muse and was about to shoot the best scene of his career.
“Here we go again,” groaned Leona, pinching the bridge of the nose. “Stop crowding her again” Vil gestured for him to be quiet.
You closed your mouth...Opened it again...Closed it again; then slowly inhaled. Honestly… it had already been a very long day: You had snuck into an international festival without an official invitation; dodged lethal magic-draining flowers; lied to the host of the entire event and punched him in the face in the middle of a burning hall.
At this point…
what was one more bad decision?
“…I can try”
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
From one of the tall windows of the hall, you had a perfect view of the performance unfolding below.
Malleus stood right at the center of the marble circle—calm, steady, almost statuesque. When he sang, his voice carried through the entire hall with a strength that everyone could feel. Beside him, Azul and Idia accompanied the song with suspicious precision; you had never seen them rehearse this performance, and you were fairly certain you had never heard this song echoing through the dorm corridors either.
“…wow,” Grim whispered from your arms, barely peeking out to watch. “They’re actually killing it”
“Yeah…” You leaned forward a little more.
The other dorm leaders stood off to one side of the hall watching the performance unfold, and just as he had promised, Leona had absolutely no intention of participating.
You leaned a little farther when you noticed something odd about Idia’s performance in front of the guests. “…Is Idia using a voice device?”
“…that guy really can’t live without technology,” Grim muttered, crossing his arms. His expression flattened when he spotted the small device Idia was clearly using to sing for him.
And even so…The performance was magnificent.
Malleus’s voice sounded so majestic it was both deep and almost angelic, probably one of the many perks of being a high fae and future prince. Idia’s voice—unexpectedly delicate despite being technological—and Azul’s tone blended perfectly together.
You rested your arms on the stone window frame and closed your eyes, finally allowing yourself to enjoy the evening the way you had originally planned. Grim climbed onto the window ledge beside you, adjusting his mask so he could see better. Both of you swayed gently with the rhythm of the music, and a smile slowly spread across your face.
“They’ve got this,” you murmured quietly, tapping a finger against your arm in time with the music. “Bastards… is there anything they can’t do well?”
Grim snickered, covering his mouth with his paw to keep the sound down. “They’re totally showing off.”
You laughed quietly along with him. When you opened your eyes again, you found Grim staring at you. “You’re next.”
Your smile, which had started out sarcastic, shifted into something more mischievous.
You looked back down toward the hall. The voices still flowed together in harmony, moving around the marble circle with a grace that Vil was probably mentally approving from somewhere nearby. The second chorus was about to begin.
“Well…” you straightened up, adjusting the fall of your skirt and the lace miraculously still intact over the red brocade. “I suppose it’s time to close the night with a golden finish”
Grim looked up at you, eyes narrowing skeptically, his little paws stretching toward you to be held again.“You know how to sing?”
You lifted him and settled him onto your shoulder, both of you looked down toward the stage one last time. Your voice obviously wouldn’t sound as perfect as Malleus’s, but at least it would sound human, warm.
Or so you hoped.
You adjusted your mask and stepped toward the staircase, running your hand along the stone edge of the window and grabbing a small black fan.
“…Where did you get that fan?” Grim asked.
You opened it, revealing a simple design of floral embroidery and delicate lace. “It was on one of the benches”
“Hng… you’re adding more drama.”
Right then, Malleus’s voice surged through the entire hall structure as he reached the final note. The sound vibrated through the room, leaving behind a faint but powerful echo.
You paused mid-step and glanced upward as if your eyes could follow the note sliding through the air, then you gave Grim a playful look. “Come on” You turned toward the stairs. “We’ve got to compete with our prince”
The final chord echoed for a few seconds, applause followed, warm and energized, proof that the performance of those three had worked. The night had been saved.
You set Grim down at the top of the stairs, placing him beside a small decorative window at his height so he could watch the next act. When your heel touched the first step, the lighting along the staircase dimmed slightly, casting a softer contrast around your silhouette.
Fan open, one hand resting lightly on the railing, your heart racing a mile a minute. This would either go spectacularly well…
or become the most embarrassing moment of your life.
You glanced once more at Grim for support, he lifted one paw in a tiny thumbs-up; that was apparently the feline version of encouragement.
And so you began your descent, slow steps, measured, careful. Falling now would be catastrophic. No one wanted to watch the mysterious masked woman who had saved the evening tumble down twenty marble steps.
“Masquerade
Paper faces on parade
Masquerade
Hide your face, so the world will never find you…”
The applause died instantly, your voice wasn't loud nor powerful like Malleus’s, it didn’t have Azul’s precision, nor Idia’s delicate tone...But hopefully it was unmistakably human, and familiar. Almost… comforting.
Each step down the marble curved with the melody, the lace of the dress catching the candlelight, the fan tilting slightly, slow movements as if you were stepping into a courtship circle.
Below in the hall, the seven leaders stood still. Malleus, Idia, and Azul had returned to stand with the others and now the entire group once again had their eyes fixed on you.
Both Azul and Riddle tensed in unison, not expecting your voice to emerge so soft. Singing while descending a staircase could be rather complicated if you didn’t have proper vocal control; walking while singing alone could already be tiring and might make your voice tremble.
Kalim, who stood on the opposite side of Riddle, grabbed his sleeve and began shaking it, pointing at you as you continued your descent. His mouth hung open, nearly reaching the floor, forming a small wow while you fanned yourself with each descending step.
“Masquerade
Every face a different shade
Masquerade
Look around, there’s another mask behind you”
You continued downward, slow but steady, each step landing precisely with the tempo of the lyrics. Now the fan moved a little faster.
Vil followed your figure with every step, every movement of your dress flowing smoothly over the stairs; your posture perfectly straight, your weight settling properly onto each foot as it should, the heels striking neatly in time with the tempo. He watched how you moved the fan, as if it were a supporting actor that required very little to be perfect.
Idia stood behind Vil, slightly hunched with his mask poorly positioned; it looked like he had removed it for a moment after the performance, or rather, like he had deflated after carrying out such an intense social activity in front of so many people. His head barely leaned past Vil’s shoulder as he watched how you didn’t need much to sound… simple, soothing.
The last curve of the staircase opened beneath your feet. The light framed you warmer there, spilling gold across the newly polished floor. You extended the hand holding the fan slightly to the side as the verse neared its end, and when your foot touched the final step…the music swelled, the violins accompanying the delicate chimes while a few percussion instruments followed.
“Flash of mauve,
Splash of puce,
Fool and king,
Ghoul and goose,
Green and black,
Queen and priest,
Trace of rouge,
Face of beast”
You advanced farther into the open hall, guests stepped aside to give you room, as if the song itself were clearing a path for you. The warmth of your voice filled the space the fear had left behind earlier, moving through the hall softer than magic, steadier than the ceremony.
Leona had remained leaning against a pillar, watching without making any visible movement or comment toward the others. His arms rested at his sides, palms against the pillar, his gaze moving up and down your figure as he watched you walk through the crowd. But he wasn’t looking at you the way Vil was.
No. He observed you as if trying to solve a puzzle that had been gnawing at him since the afternoon in the plaza. The mysterious masked girl who had stumbled into the group and carried herself with a natural ease almost humiliating for the seven of them clearly had an ace up her sleeve… an ace that felt strangely familiar, though he couldn’t remember from where.
And Malleus…was doing exactly the same. Watching you; but with a softer gaze, as though he were seeing a nymph within her own spring and he were merely a mortal fortunate enough to stumble upon her, fate too generous to allow him to witness such a spectacle.
Then…more voices joined, almost by accident. A voice close to you murmured quietly, then a couple near the edge of the circle, just above the violins, then another pair, cautious but slightly more confident.
All of those voices testing whether they were allowed to join—as though they were forming a chorus to accompany your performance. And you allowed it.
A performance so human was always better when accompanied, wasn’t it?
“Faces
Take your turn, take a ride
On the merry-go-round
In an inhuman race…”
A pair of masked dancers stepped onto the open floor, slowly and cautiously at first; no choreography, only instinct, their movements catching the rhythm just as the candlelight caught the stained glass.
More joined. It wasn’t a full dance yet—just a movement here, another there. And gradually, what had begun with only your voice started turning into a complete spectacle.
You moved the fan in flowing motions upward with the rhythm of the lyrics—the dramatic courtship play Grim had mentioned.
“Eye of gold,
Thigh of blue,
True is false,
Who is who?
Curl of lip,
Swirl of gown,
Ace of hearts,
Face of clown”
The chorus of guests was unmistakable now, harmonizing with yours—not raising their voices to compete with you, but filling the space so the performance reverberated just as powerfully as Malleus’s voice alone had earlier.
Dozens of voices intertwined softly beneath yours; it was like watching the masquerade itself sing to close the night. Silk skirts began to spin, cloaks gliding across the floor, candlelight casting soft shadows over every figure and across the marble.
“Faces
Drink it in, drink it up
Till you’ve drowned in the light, in the sound
But who can name the face?”
You turned your head toward a woman dressed exquisitely, wearing an immaculate violet gown, a mask almost identical to yours covered her eyes, she also carried a fan matching her dress.
With a movement that seemed rehearsed, the two of you raised your fans in front of your faces at the same moment. Everyone nearby who held a fan did exactly the same.
And for the third time that evening—after an inconvenient encounter, after an infernal chaos—the event finally felt like a masquerade again.
Right there, at the center of everything, this time a center you had actually sought, you found yourself surrounded by a ballroom that had willingly become part of your song.
“Masquerade!
Grinning yellows, spinning reds
Masquerade!
Take your fill, let the spectacle astound you!”
The dance burst to life.
No longer were there hesitant couples barely swaying, now they spun with confidence to the sound of the violins, gowns and suits tracing wide arcs across the marble floor. You moved among the turns like a master of ceremonies, your skirt’s movement blending with the others, spinning not to dance but to carry your voice to every corner of the hall.
Kalim’s eyes widened as he watched the sea of fabrics spinning and spinning—it was dizzying just to see so much coordination. “Oh! People are really joining in!”
Azul watched keenly. “Fascinating… she’s stabilizing the entire room”
A few steps away, a Noble Bell student, tall, immaculate, his uniform pristine and untouched by ash, walked directly toward you.
Closer, closer still, until he stood only a single step away, moving in rhythm with the crowd, following your steps before bowing and extending his hand.
A formal invitation, a very legitimate one, the kind of official invitation you had hoped for ever since the festival had been announced. All afternoon you had hesitated about where to walk, hesitated about what to say so you wouldn’t be discovered. Now…
you simply wanted to dance, and you accepted the invitation without stopping your singing.
You snapped the fan closed softly against your hip while allowing him to guide you into the swirling mass of couples turning across the floor. Some dancers even lifted their partners into the air, far too bold a movement for you, so you wisely didn’t attempt it.
Your dance was coordinated and fairly simple compared to the others, whose steps already carried the etiquette of ballroom tradition, yours remained softer, movements that allowed the dress to breathe and form dark circles trimmed with red, and enough stillness that your voice could continue floating above the chorus.
The student spun you once just as the orchestra swelled, your dress opened in a dark flare that caught the golden light like a glowing ember refusing to fade.
Across the floor, the seven dorm leaders watched as the performance had truly become that— a performance.
Dance, music, lead voice, chorus. Had you really not planned this from the start?
Vil murmured more to himself than the others, captivated by the way your dress followed every turn. “Control, breath rhythm, audience integration.” He adjusted both sleeves before adding his final verdict. “She has stage instinct”
He walked straight into the crowd and invited the first person he saw waiting near the edge of the dance floor. The others stared in silence for a few seconds before Kalim burst into laughter and strode toward the center as well, inviting a Noble Bell student to dance.
The hall had fully surrendered now, no more uncertain steps or scattered movements—only a sea of silk and velvet, feathered hats swaying in the air, lace glimmering beneath the softened lights.
Couples changed hands in coordinated turns, everyone pulsed with the rhythm of the music.
“You can fool
Any friend who ever knew you”
The student guiding you spun you once more, then another step, then he released your hand with elegant timing within the flow of the dance, allowing another guest to take it. Then another, and another; You remained on the dance floor as if you had been born to dance until sunrise.
The orchestra never truly stopped after that.
One song melted into the next, the tempo rising and softening in waves while the lantern light grew warmer, as though the night itself had finally remembered what it was meant to be.
And you danced, and danced, and danced. Occasionally glancing upward toward the window where Grim watched from his hiding place, until he grew bored and hurried down the stairs toward a small table where snacks and drinks had been arranged.
And Grim, being Grim, went straight for the snacks. You shook your head, amused, unable to suppress the smile at the irony of it all: Grim worrying only about food, completely forgetting the stealth part…while you danced with strangers.
At first.
Because in the middle of another turn, Kalim arrived. He practically bounced his way over, bowing with an enthusiastic sincerity that somehow remained perfectly polite.
“May I?” he asked, already smiling as though the answer could only be yes.
His dancing was open, slightly less precise than the formal protocol demanded, but relaxed enough that the turns felt light and smooth rather than rigid and ceremonial.
If the music hadn’t dictated the style, Kalim probably would have dragged you into a dozen far more energetic moves across the entire floor.
“Best night ever,” he laughed softly as you spun together. His laughter was so contagious it made you laugh too—though you kept it much more controlled this time.
“I’m really glad you stayed” He spun you again in a partner exchange.
Next came Riddle. He stepped forward with impeccable posture, offering his hand with textbook ceremonial formality. “I would like to request this dance,” he said, composed, but unmistakably sincere.
His steps were perfect, structured, exactly as ballroom manuals likely instructed for someone leading a partner. Not stiff, simply precise—as if every movement had been practiced until he could guide another person with absolute confidence.
“You handle chaos surprisingly well,” he admitted quietly during a turn.
Ah…if only you knew
Then came Azul. He bowed with a touch of theatrical flair, though still formal, like a merchant about to greet a valuable soul. “It would be a tragedy not to experience a dance with you”
He guided you effortlessly, every step deliberate, every movement calculated so that you appeared exquisite, as though you were a rare piece in an impossibly expensive collection. And he remained in the background…letting you shine.
Vil arrived afterward as if the night itself had set a timer so he would appear at the exact right moment, balancing the aesthetic of the three who had gone before him.
His hand was firm, confident; the dance elegant without effort, posture impeccable, movement fluid—the kind of partner who doesn’t just dance but shapes the entire image of the ballroom around him.
“You understand presentation,” he murmured near your ear. “Presence. That’s rare to find” He released your hand for an open step, ending with you spinning on yourself and landing briefly in the blond’s arms before he let you go again.
You were surprised when Idia came next. His expression showed he was fighting every ounce of his anxiety and preparing himself like someone about to face a hidden final boss.
“…okay.” He took your hand in his, visibly trembling and a little hesitant. “Statistically speaking I’m going to regret this—or die—if I don’t at least try once…”
His steps were clumsy, but not enough for you to step on his feet, nor for him to step on yours. Idia had more secrets tucked up his sleeves than he liked to show the world.
One step, then another, and then, surprisingly, he became careful, mentally counting the next movements so you could continue looking radiant in your dress. “It’s easy… being next to you,” he admitted quietly, placing a hand on your waist. “That… that’s not common for me.”
Leona came next. He didn’t arrive in a spin, handing you off to the next dancer. No; he simply appeared when the music slowed slightly, one brow raised and the corner of his mouth faintly lifted, refusing you the honor of seeing a full smile.
His hand extended with the same casual inevitability he had shown in the plaza. “Come on. You already survived the worst of it”
His grip was firm, steady, strong enough that dancing with him felt like walking beside someone who had temporarily decided not to bite anyone.
Like with Idia, you were surprised by how careful Leona could be while dancing. Of course, as a prince he had been forced to learn etiquette and ballroom lessons. And now you were witnessing the results of that irritating education.
Very good results, to be honest.
Because when the choreography called for the lead to lift his partner again, Leona didn’t hesitate, nor did he give you a warning, he lifted you by the waist. You let out a small yelp before touching the floor again, Leona steadied you against him so you wouldn’t stumble during the next steps.
“You don’t show panic,” he said quietly, leaning closer to whisper near your ear. “Didn’t expect to find someone like that at an event this pompous.”
And finally...Malleus.
He appeared without hurry, not interrupting the moment you had with Leona until the partners changed naturally. He stepped forward as the music reached the last measures of the slow dance, transitioning toward something deeper and more intimate, an instant carved into midnight itself as the first rhythm came to a close.
“May I share this dance?” he asked softly, bowing slightly before taking your hand and guiding you through the final movements of that first rhythm with the other dancers.
His hand was warm around yours, his steps slow, deliberate, impossibly gentle for someone so tall and imposing, as if the music being played had been written specifically for the two of you.
“You brought light back to this hall tonight,” he said quietly so only you could hear him, ignoring everyone else around you. “Whether you intended to or not”
Laughter floated through the air as the first rhythm of the night ended. Seven dances, with seven boys, all stepping away from you carrying the same strange feeling, that they had just spent time with someone important… and somehow familiar.
And you allowed yourself to keep smiling and dancing. For once, you allowed yourself to have the night Crowley had stolen from you.
One dance became two; two became five.
At some point the evening stopped feeling like something you had infiltrated and barely survived, and became something you were simply living. Living far from the cold walls of Ramshackle, far from the magic-soaked stone of NRC.
In the distance, the spell of the moment broke with a bell chime, small and practical. A bell announcing that it was already very late.
Your eyes shot toward the tall clock mounted against the marble wall. “…oh no.”
You had approached the snack table, where Grim had apparently devoured everything edible and was now curled up beside it waiting for you.
When he heard you mutter, he lifted his head. “Mm?”
“We’re out of time,” you said, looking at him in horror.
“HMNYA?!” he jumped up.
“If we don’t leave now,” you whispered in his ear, avoiding attracting attention, the earlier squeak had already made several guests glance toward the table, “we won’t get back to campus before they do”
You scanned the crowd, searching for an escape route. “And if Crowley gets there first—”
Grim gasped and jumped into your arms. “We’re dead”
“Exactly”
The music swelled again and several people stepped back into the center of the hall for another round, perfect cover. You adjusted Grim in your arms and reopened the fan, hiding him slightly as you began walking quickly.
“Okay, we walk fast,” you said quietly while heading toward the reading hall doors. “No running. We blend in with the people leaving and slip out before anyone notices.”
You pushed your way step by step through the living sea of masks, guests, and students, gliding between couples mid-turn, passing laughing students.
Every movement controlled to avoid suspicion, but urgent.
You were only a few steps away, close enough to feel the cool night air slipping through the carved gap in the wooden door, close enough that one more step would take you out of the lantern light, the music, the masquerade entirely.
And you pushed the enormous door open, stepping straight into the outer corridor.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
“This was probably the most fun disaster I’ve ever attended.” Kalim had his hands behind his head, still smiling as if the night hadn’t stopped being magical.
The dorm leaders had gathered near one of the marble pillars. The music from the hall drifted faintly just a few meters away.
Riddle adjusted his gloves, nodded, and placed his hands behind his back. “The structural damage was severe, but the response was… effective.”
Azul had picked up a glass from the table, apparently unaware that Grim had already raided the food there. He swirled it in his hand, watching the liquid spiral slightly.
“Indeed” He took a small sip and looked toward the hall doors. “Although there is still one clause unresolved”
Vil had followed him and taken a glass of wine, sipping occasionally. He hadn’t even finished half of it. “The mysterious lady”
Idia nodded, by now he had removed his mask. “Mysterious young woman, SSR-tier character who punches the main villain with maxed-out stats.”
Kalim, who had only half been listening, glanced around—the others, the muffled music beyond the door, the outer corridor—his gaze bounced everywhere for a moment, then he suddenly straightened, exhaling through his nose.
“She said her brother studies at NRC.” That made the others turn toward him.
Vil lifted the glass to his lips thoughtfully, his eyes sharp though his mind clearly elsewhere. “Yes… that detail is useful”
“The NRC enrollment is not infinite,” Riddle said with a slight frown. “Establishing familial connections may take time” He sighed. “But it will not be impossible”
Vil set the glass carefully on a stone bench. “A voice like that won’t remain hidden for long.”
“Yes,” Malleus added calmly, his eyes drifting toward the hall. “Fate rarely introduces someone only once” Vil crossed his arms at that remark, giving a small nod before following the direction of Malleus’s gaze.
Leona had remained leaning against the column beside Kalim the entire time, hands in his pockets, head tilted toward the hall doors—still listening to the distant music and the crowd dancing, laughing, talking.
“Maybe we’ll see her again before the night ends—” Kalim started.
But Leona’s ears sharpened, his eyes narrowed toward the distance.
“…Oi” That was all he said to make the others pay attention.
On the other side of the outer corridor, the great doors of the hall opened—and there you were, moving quickly. The black and crimson dress was unmistakable even under the dim light of the corridor, the small creature tucked in your arms as you hurried toward the outer doors.
That alone was enough for the seven of them to straighten in unison, watching your figure cross the corridor. Kalim pointed at you and barely raised his voice to say, “There she goes!”
Vil stepped forward immediately, then another step, Azul set his own glass beside Vil’s, adjusted his suit, and followed him. The seven of them began to move closer, like a flock of crows closing in on a small prey, or rather… their little dove.
They were close enough to see you, but not close enough for you to notice them. Your figure passed beside a guest whose decorations stuck out everywhere, especially along the sleeves and shoulders.
And then the most cliché, ridiculous thing that could possibly happen at an event like this happened.
A strand of your hair snagged as you rushed past, and the ribbon of your mask caught on the guest’s decorations.
“Ah—sorry!” the guest said, quickly freeing your hair and the ribbon when your head jerked backward. The tug made you drop Grim, and he jumped to the floor.
“It’s nothing,” you replied, continuing forward once your hair came loose. The guest went his way while you headed straight for the outer doors.
The ribbon slipped free, the mask fell one step later. You instinctively turned, bringing a hand to the back of your head, startled as the fabric mask dropped to the ground.
One second, one undeniable second was all it took for your face to be completely revealed under the moonlight. The mystery shattered, and before the seven leaders of NRC, the young lady was revealed:
The Prefect of Ramshackle.
Meanwhile you were far too busy picking up the fallen mask, your heart pounding like you had just run a marathon when the realization hit you all at once.
“…oh shit—” You snatched the mask off the floor and bolted toward the door.
“GRIM!” you shouted, your voice now unmistakably clear in the night air and the quiet city. “MOVE OR YOU’RE SLEEPING ON THE FLOOR WITHOUT TUNA FOR A WEEK IF WE’RE LATE!”
The small hooded creature shrieked in terror. “YES, PREFECT—!”
The two of you ran like a princess racing back to her tower before the spell wore off...except you looked more like two idiots sprinting full speed toward the city lights as if your lives, and possibly your financial privileges, depended on it. Within seconds the darkness swallowed you both, disappearing down the outer corridor toward the main gates.
Silence followed, and the ones who had been pursuing you with steady steps… were left stunned by the revelation.
Kalim’s jaw dropped, not caring how dramatic or over-the-top he looked; Riddle’s eyes widened and a faint blush colored his cheeks; Azul removed his glasses to clean them with trembling hands, an entirely pointless gesture, as he pinched the bridge of his nose; Idia made a strangled sound, like his system had just crashed into a blue screen he couldn’t reboot; Leona and Vil blinked at the same time, shooting each other a sidelong glance; Malleus simply watched as the final piece of the puzzle clicked neatly into place, confirming that lingering sense of familiarity.
A pause followed...A long pause, far too long.
Vil didn’t know what to do with his hands, or with his entire existence. He pressed his lips into a thin line, moved his hands aimlessly for a moment, and was just about to turn away in frustration. “…oh for fuck’s sake.” The fact that he had sworn meant you had played your move perfectly.
Idia crouched down and buried his face in his hands. “I want to die”
Azul, still pinching the bridge of his nose, let out a long breath. “We should have known”
And honestly, yes.
They had been idiots not to realize; inside their minds the gears finally started turning: The voice, her composure in danger, that laugh, the ridiculous courage, the familiar, the way she handled chaos without magic.
Leona dragged a hand down his face and let out a deep, irritated growl. “She masked her scent so we wouldn’t notice”
Kalim, whose mouth had still been hanging open, suddenly burst into a small laugh as he looked toward where you had disappeared. “Oh! That makes so much sense!” He laughed freely.
“No wonder we could flirt with her so naturally”
“FLIRT?!”
“NOBODY HERE FLIRTED WITH ANYONE!”
“MY CHARISMA STAT IS NOT THAT HIGH!”
Several voices erupted at once, some embarrassed, some shy, some in complete denial. Malleus, still perfectly composed in the middle of the chaos, simply closed his eyes and allowed his companions to argue, offering the night a small smile.
Leona didn’t even stay to watch the end of the debate over who had flirted more. He simply closed his eyes, shoved his hands into his pockets, and walked back toward the hall, he shouting was already giving him a headache.
May I be the first to ask for a reaction of the dorm leaders to a fem!reader dancing erotically/sexy?
OF COURSEEE U CAN SWEETY!!!!!
I am very excited to start having the first orders for TW. This is the one that caught my attention the most and wanted to write ASAP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
The tea party was being a total disaster. Dorm members breaking the rules left to right, incompletely painted white roses, lack of control at the tables, a total madness.
Riddle was getting redder and redder, until he reached the same shade as his hair color.
Time to intervene.
“Cater go get your speakers and connect them to your phone with the music I am going to tell you, on my sign you press play. Trey distracts Riddle for a few minutes, lead him to the loung room if necessary. Ace, Deuce, Grimm, get away everything on the main table. NOW NOW NOW”
“YES MA’AM”
You ran into the bushes behind the main table and started to peel off your top, leaving you in a red lingerie bra. You ripped the bottom to fit some modern shorts and waited for everyone to be in position.
Show time, press play
With the beginning of the music, everyone fell silent, looking for the origin of it, but only finding you positioning yourself on the table.
Riddle shot out into the gardens, about to go "OF WITH YOUR HEAD" who deigned to put that kind of music. But ... like everyone else, he only found you....starting to dance.
People were crazy to see you dance with fluidity and speed ... a good crazyness. They were deconcentrated.
Ace and Deuce cheering as gay friends
Riddle was bewildered, he wanted to speak but the words didn’t come out of his mouth.
ASS TIME!
You broke this boy right then. His eyes followed the movement of your hips and hands, unable to avoid thinking of...
Cheers were raised when you stopped at "of with your head" Your eyes locked at Riddle’s and you gave him a...lewd smile.
Ace and Deuce came up to the table to dance with you and all the members of Heartslabyul began to dance in their places.
Cater had filmed everything and had a mischievous smile drawn on his face, just like Trey. May or may not will send it to Riddle late at night
One thing for sure. That day, you broke Riddle in the most erotic way there is.
Leona
Theeth - Lady Gaga
That fucking bet. That damn Ruggie.
He convince you that if you managed to do the challenge without Leona being intimidated, he would do your homework for a whole month.
You accepted without measuring the consequences and without even thinking clearly about the challenge.
Leona, Ruggie and Jack were going to be training magift after class with their teams in their arena. Time to attack.
The game was about to start, each player in his position, when suddenly ... a few blows began to sound.
Music came from the speakers. Everyone was baffled, including Leona, he was going to teach the herbivore who dared to interrupt his training a good lesson.
Before he even raised his voice angrily, he caught sight of Ruggie who was pointing him, with a wicked smile, toward the stands.
You were standing there, slowly going down and positioning yourself on your stomach. It’s when you started moving your hips that Leona clicked.
You’re dancing, erotically.
No dorm member could swear to have seen Leona so expressive before. His eyes wide open, his mouth almost reaching the floor, and ... if they dared to go lower, they could sight a tent in his pants.
In the middle of the choreography, you turned around, and Leona was nope and went to you, grabbed your hips and placed you on his shoulders.
“the show is over, go back to training”
From your escort, you could see Ruggie laughing and waving at you with an evil grin. You lost the bet.
“You want to move your hips? I'll give you a reason to move them”
He spanked you and took you to his room.
Moans and grolws could be heard at the arena.
Azul
Dangerous Woman - Ariana Grande
It was a disaster.
The person hired to give an entertainment canceled at the last minute. Azul’s throat vein was about to explode.
Customers in Mostro Lounge were getting hysterical, demanding music, dancing, singing, whatever, something.
In desperation he turned to you.
"You need someone for a show, I can help with pleasure"
"Do you know someone who dances, sings, plays an instrument, or tells jokes?"
you gave him a look. Is he serious? You asked him to give you about ten minutes to get ready.
When the lights went down, leaving a dim light directed at you, Azul immediately regretted his choice.
positioned in the middle of the stage, wearing a black top, leaving little to the imagination and tights squeezing your butt, you began to dance a song that he did not know.
“Oh Carp”
The clients, now hypnotized by your dance, began to scream with happiness. Finally the show they were promised.
"The little shrimp sure know how to move" Damn Floyd, don’t make it worse than already is.
Azul felt very uncomfortable from the waist down and felt that at any moment he was going to get ink wink wonk
He asked you to go to the vip room when you’re done to ... discuss your little show in private.
He’ll have to get a few customers to sign a contract to avoid putting their dirty hands on you.
But for now, he's pleased to put his own hands all over your body, and inside you.
Kalim
O Saki Saki - Nora Fatehi
I know, I know, it is too cliché to put a hindu song for Kalim, but this choreo was around all over tiktok and I couldn't get it out of my head.
Kalim was fascinated when you told him about your old hobby back at your world. Belly dance
He organized a party at his dorm only and exclusively for you and that you could teach not only him but also everyone your fantastic steps.
He even left you a change of clothes in his room and asked you to tell him when you were ready.
Show time, press play
At first he was delighted, you had directed him to cloud nine and had no intention of going down. But...when your movements started to go down, his happy gaze started to fade away.
He settled into his seat and put his hand on his mouth, trying to hide his obvious redness. Jamil realized don't worry. It was hard not to realize that Kalim’s mood had changed and that he needed to solve a...thing.
When you got to the famous part of the dance, he was controlling himself not to go up to you and take you to his room in front of everyone.
Whe you were done, he excused himself from his dorm members and Jamil, grabbed your hand, and the two of you didn't leave his room until the next morning.
Let's say that Jamil didn’t sleep well that night ... or nothing at all.
Vil
Earned It - The Weeknd
You went to his dorm asking if you could use his ballroom. You've been wanting to dance again for a long time and your own dorm wasn't going to give you the space you needed.
He said yes without problem and left you alone while you practiced.
After a while and intrigued to see your practice, Vil returned to the ballroom hoping to surprise you, but it was he who was surprised.
"Oh ... my, what a view"
His gaze was on your butt, for it round and apple-shaped.
He was intrigued by your dance, impressed by your flexibility and how in those lewd movements, he could find pure beauty.
You were completely immersed in your choreography that you didn't notice Vil standing at the door.
Reaching the end of the dance, you noticed Vil smiling from ear to ear. "Oh no potato, don't stop for me"
You smiled at him and positioned yourself in the middle of the room, turning your back on Vil and looking at him through the huge mirror.
He stood behind you, his hands on your hips. You both waited for the start of a new song.
The two danced together an erotic moves with it’s ending was between the bars and the mirror.
Idia
God is a Woman - Ariana Grande
Idia was playing on his computer when a movement on his camera caught his attention.
You two used to make video calls constantly because of his fear of interact to other people.
When he opened his app, he noticed that you had left the camera and the computer audio on. He was to say something when music started playing.
You appeared in his field of vision wearing only shorts and a transparent black shirt, which left your nipples visible.
“Oh my Aphrodite. What is this? An unlocked Ero scene?”
Seeing you move so smoothly, he couldn't help but imagine his blue lips on your nipples, watch them harden and turn violet when sucked by him.
Ortho had to enter his room with a fire extinguisher when he started to see smoke coming out of his door.
Idia was completely red, from feet to hair and with a serious problem in his pants.
You may or may not have known he was watching from the beginning.
You will have to pay a visit to Ignihyde dorm leader that night.
Malleus
Buttons - The Pussycat Dolls
Malleus was taking his night walk when he heard music come out of your dorm. Interested on that unrecognizable music, he went to your door.
He was about to knock when it slammed wide, apparently you had forgotten to close it. It wasn't in his plans to interrupt you, but he was completely curious about what was happening here.
His gaze met with your body dancing something he deciphered as erotic.
"my, my"
He was delighted with your movements to the point of bringing out a genuine smile, which disappeared when your top disappeared, leaving you alone in black and green lingerie.
His eyes widened. His hands began to sweat and he had a strange need to get close to you.
At the end of your dance, you had the scare of your life when you saw the tall and horned figure of Malleus on the doorway of the lounge room.
"Sorry if I scared you, it was not my intention to interrupt you while you’re enjoying yourself"
"How long have you been standing there?" "Since the beginning"
He approched you. He put his thumb on your lips and his piercing gaze met yours. You weren't sure if your legs were shaking from the exercise or how hot and wet Malleus could make you with just his gaze.
"Could you dance for me again?"
You nodded, unable to speak.
He kissed you, lifting you up from your hips and heading to your room.
Hello first ask, reaction of the vice leaders to an fem!reader dancing erotically/sexy? i really liked the ask you did with the leaders!
Of course honey! If you want to read the first one with the leaders, I'll leave it here. All characters are +18 and for obvious reasons Ortho is out of this order.
Late at night, everyone enjoying the comfort of their bed, sound asleep ... and here you were, in the middle between the lounge and the kitchen of Heartslabyul, with the music at medium volume and moving your hips as if there would not be a tomorrow.
You took advantage that everyone was peacefully asleep and snoring to practice a quiet choreography.
Well...not everyone.
Trey had gotten up for a glass of water when he found you in the middle of the kitchen, wearing only your panties and a T-shirt long enough to cover your upper thighs.
The way you moved your hips, revealing the fine dark red fabric of your panties shining comfortably against your skin, made Trey's mind take off.
“Cookin 'in the kitchen and I'm in the bedroom” That's it, Trey stopped holding back.
Before you could finish, you felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist and lift you off the floor, ending up on the counter.
You let out a gasp as lips fell on yours and your hands drew you toward your attacker's body.
“Trey ... next time give me a warning”
You gave him a light blow on the shoulder, but the man in front of you didn’t react conventionally, he grabbed your hand which was still resting on his shoulder and brought it towards his crotch, making you notice how hard he was.
“Maybe you should give me a warning before dancing that way in a public place and the way you are dressed”
Let's say… you two kept dancing for a few more minutes until Riddle showed up for a glass of milk.
You ended up scaring the little one for life.
Ruggie
Animals – Maroon 5
Ruggie was tired after a long day of work, not just from his duties but also Leona's. He entered his room with a heavy step and fell on his bed, in which you were already waiting for him cross-legged.
"Long day?"
Ruggie just nod and settle on the bed, hoping to reach your legs, lie on them, and sleep until the next day.
"I have something that might make you feel better"
You crawled out of bed and for some reason the hyena didn't know, you went to his closet and grabbed one of his dorm shirts.
You went to the bathroom, Ruggie assumed to change, and you came out with your cell phone in hand and dressed to be eaten. The shirt barely covered your upper part, revealing the curvature of your breasts, apart from posing on your thighs.
If you weren’t about to playing some music, Ruggie was willing to jump up to you and eat you right there.
It was worth the wait. When you started moving, Ruggie's first thought was how lucky he was to have you. He was enjoying your fun, seeing you happy dancing for him even if it was at the comfort of his room.
When your steps became more lewd, he couldn't help how tight his pants were. He was completely hard and with each step, his limit was about to run out.
When you were done, hips on Ruggie's, he pulled you close to his crotch, your cunt well positioned over it and pulsing for some more friction.
Fuck the sleep, Ruggie spent the whole night pounding you in every possible position until your bodies were nothing more than a bundle of heat and wet fluids. You ended up destroyed.
The Savannaclaw students wondered all night the source of the high-pitched, savage howls.
Jade
Call Out My Name – The Weeknd
It was closing time at Monstro Lounge. Tables already set, Azul closing the VIP room, Floyd closing the box and Jade cleaning a few glasses and plates from the bar.
For your, you were waiting for this moment. From time to time Azul would let you practice your choreographies on stage in exchange for a much lower monetary payment than those of Pomefiore had given you.
When the trio were distracted, each with their tasks, you ran out of the room where you were changing, put your cell phone on the speakers, and positioned yourself without hesitation on stage.
Hearing the beginning of the music, the three of them turned around to enjoy the show for a while, but they weren't prepared to see you in men's sleep shorts and one of the dorm’s shirts.
"Ara Ara ~ what a view more...appetizing"
Jade placed a chair in front of where you were dancing and gazed at you as if you were the most beautiful pearl in the entire sea.
Floyd had a wicked grin on his face and Azul was red as tomato.
The other eel was about to open his big mouth and approach where his brother was, but Azul grabbed his collar and dragged him out of the Monstro Lounge.
"I want the place clean when you finish"
The comment didn’t go unnoticed by either of you, but you didn’t care.
When you finished dancing, Jade already had his hands on your waist and his lips and teeth on yours.
Floyd was very clever and left posters outside the door and in the hallway warning of the heated scene that was about to take place.
Jamil
River – Bishop
There was a small dance competition between a few students from Scarabia and Pomefiore, including Heartslabyul, and Jamil took a break from his responsibilities to participate.
In his excitement, he told you about the competition a few hours before it happened and left you to go practice. Bad move
The last few participants had already done their best, but Jamil had taken the best steps; he was about to win. But before the winner was dictated, you showed up, dressed in gym shorts, a sports bra and one of Jamil’s sleeveless hoodie.
Everyone's jaws dropped.
Your eyes never left Jamil's unless the choreography needed a spin. Your figure was powerless in the middle of the pseudo dance floor and while your steps were exceptional, no one could move a muscle. They were mesmerized, their eyes glued to your figure...and Jamil didn't like that.
He didn't like to see how the skin on your legs was exposed. He didn't like to see your butt become the main attraction, much less when you moved it so erotically. He didn't like to see your hair move with your body and outline your face.
You ended up winning the competition unanimously. Everyone applauded your performance, some asked if you could teach them to dance so freely.
Jamil was jealous, smoke was coming out of his ears and at any moment he was going to explode.
You turned your head to where he was and gave him a wink and one of your most malicious smiles. That was the limit.
Jamil grabbed your hand and led you to the closest cleaning closet.
"If you want to put on a show, then we are going to put on one so that everyone can hear it"
No one dared walk past the closet from the first floor next to the alchemy classroom for two hours.
Rook
Horns – Bryce Foz
You were watching a dance rehearsal in the Pomefiore dance hall. Sitting in a corner without disturbing anyone, cross-legged, you watched Rook from afar and gave him little appraisals and signs of success every time he turned to see you.
When the rehearsal ended, and the students were dating one by one, you were alone with Rook. You gave him a bottle of water and a towel to dry off.
"You worked really hard, you deserve a break" and the blonde took it to heart.
He left the rehearsal room for a moment to change his clothes and then walk you to your dorm. In that little silence and tranquility, you began to walk around the room, looking at your body in the mirror and how it moved when you took a turn.
With that, an idea came to mind.
You grabbed your cell phone and put on a random song. You stood in the middle of the room, always looking into the mirror, and began to move from one side to the other, waiting for the music to hit at the right moment.
And it was at that moment that Rook entered.
Your steps left him stunned. The way you hit the ground, the way your hips moved in the air and your legs rose.
It was one of the most beautiful things he had seen in a long time.
Your figure, now standing, met Rook's. You both looked at each other through the mirror and you couldn't help but smile in embarrassment. You kept dancing even with a few sloppy steps until you stopped to look at him.
"Oh no no, don't stop for me, you dance very well"
You felt Rook's piercing gaze on your body for the remainder of the choreography and it wasn't until you were done that he moved behind you to turn you around and onto his chest.
"Ma amour, you are one of the most beautiful creatures this hunter could find"
His bare hands roamed your waist and hips, lifting your shirt slightly and savoring your burning skin with his fingers.
"Now let me hunt you down properly"
Lilia
Lights Down Low – Bei Maejor
Classes were over and you were waiting for the light music club to get together to watch them practice. Mostly to see Lilia have fun playing the guitar, then to really listen to the music… uh, yeah, we can put that aside.
The boys hadn’t arrived so you had the club room to yourself and you took the opportunity to leave your backpack and free yourself from your school uniform, leaving with a shirt and shorts.
Seeing the minutes kept passing and no one had deigned to appear, you put music on your cell phone to fill the void. Your playlist reached a song of your favorites and you couldn't help but move to the beat of it.
You made sure the room door was closed, avoiding unwanted glances, and started dancing without any worries.
You should have remembered that some students are magical creatures and can appear in the room without even knocking on the door… just Lilia’s case.
Our fairy remained face down with his happy and mocking face so characteristic and observed your way of relaxing and how you let yourself be carried away.
Lilia wasn't going to deny that he was fascinated by your steps and… by your rear guard *wink wonk*
"The club became much more interesting"
You turned around scared to hear his voice so close to your ear. The bastard had approached without making any noise.
He put his hands on your shoulders and pulled you closer to him. His lips rested on your nose, your eyes, the corner of your lips and your ears.
"Tell me ... would you mind giving me a private show in my room?"
His fang pinked the skin of your ear, sending a chill down your spine.
Before you could answer, you were already in his room, back on his bed and his toothy smile as the only sight.
Hello! I've seen two asks with the first reaction of a Fem!Reader dancing in an erotic/sexy way. (One with the dorm heads and one with the vice dorm heads-)
So I thought I could ask the same thing, but with Cater, Jack, Floyd, Epel, Sebek and Silver. It's okay if it's breaking the rules or you're not comfortable with writing it! But thanks in advance anyways! Stay peachy!! ^^
I never thought I'd end up making a whole series of requests for this style, and to think that the dorm heads was my first order for Twst, what a great start.
I imagine Cater as a person who follows trends and is aware of the new music that comes out every single day, so I don't think it is weird to find him listening to the new of Lil Nas x (hiding it from Riddle obviously, knowing him that kind of songs would be strictly prohibited in the halls of Heartslabyul)
But as smart as Cater could get with social media and internet fashions, he didn't notice how you had gotten into music so much that you were mentally creating a choreography.
One specifically for him.
So, when you asked him to spend some private time in the comfort of his bedroom, he didn't expect at all that you would sit him in the middle of his bed just passing the threshold.
For a moment he thought you were going to give him a massage or a handjob, but when you told him to wait patiently, that you were going to change, his impure thoughts were dispelled, thinking that you were going to get more comfortable to snuggle with him.
How wrong he was. It was seeing you come out of the bathroom with a hoodie (that warm and purposeful had nothing), which barely covered your sports bra and shorts, half covering your butt, when all unseemly thoughts returned to his mind.
He stretched out his hands to pull you to him, but you stayed in place, saying you had another surprise.
Cater automatically took out his cell phone to record and take some occasionals photos.
Watching you dance so freely, doing a private show and personally for him made his heart race to a thousand an hour. Even his pants were starting to tighten.
It was seeing your ass and automatically biting his lips. In his mind he was wanting to place each palm on each of your cheeks and squeeze them as he held you against him, preventing you from moving, and his cock buried well deep inside you.
"Are you happy to see me?" your question brought him out of his reverie, realizing that your choreography was over.
He put the cell phone aside and pounced on you, wrapping his arms around you, capturing your lips and throwing you on the bed. Perhaps, among all the ruffle, he put his phone in recording mode and captured ... the entire subsequent session.
Don't worry, Cater would never divulge a video like that and if you want it delete it, he will do it immediately. If not, he will keep it in a folder with a password.
Jack
Solo – Demi Lovato
Jack tried multiple times to convince you to go train with him around the Savannaclaw arena, but each time you refused, stating that you liked being more in the comfort of the bed, covered up to your head, rather than get up at five in the morning to run.
He didn’t take it the wrong way, the way he trained was not for everyone, but he did advise you not to stay still and fall into a sedentary lifestyle, claiming that it would be harmful to your health.
Therefore, you decided to start training on your own, with your own time and doing a little of what you liked most; because remember: to be able to dance like divine goddesses, you need to train ... and a lot.
While he went out for a run, you stayed asleep, when classes ended it was your turn to train.
One day classes ended quite early in your case, allowing you to go to Jack's room to rest and wait for him; But the minutes grew long and what seemed like an hour of waiting turned into two.
So… loud music, more comfortable clothes and practice.
And what does Jack like more than training? See you give your best while doing what you like.
Finding you in his room dancing in sportswear was an image that he would like to print and keep in his mind.
He didn’t care that you were sweating or that the clothes weren’t the tightest to mark your figure, just seeing you move your hips was what he needed to have a smile from ear to ear.
Finish your dance calmly, that your gray wolf will be waiting for you at the door, smiling at you and with open arms to give you a big hug for the effort.
He would eat you with kisses and bites to show you how happy he was to see you happy. If this leads to more… spicy things, that's up to you.
What if I recommend you not to dance this same choreography in the training field in broad daylight, where everyone can see you. The results could be a bit possessive.
But, if you're brave enough, don't complain later if you end up with bites and marks all over your body.
Floyd
My oh My – Camilla Cabello
You walked into the gym expecting to find the basketball team training as usual, but there was no one in their place. Absolute silence.
You took the opportunity to place your backpack next to the roadways, change into comfortable sportswear and put on some music to improve the atmosphere.
When this song started to play, you elatedly stood in the middle of the gym, a sly smile on your face, completely ignoring the sound of rumbling footsteps and slowly approaching the gym.
You were in the middle of the choreography when you felt two arms gripping you tightly, leaving you gasping for air. You screeched as Floyd began to squeeze you more and more, making it impossible for you to move.
"My my, nobody taught you to pay attention to your surroundings when you're alone, koebi-chan?" that sceared the shit out of you.
"Can I dance with you?"
He pulled you closer to him, pressing your back against his torso and your hips against his, lifting you off the floor, and began to spin and sway to the rhythm of the music.
The situation made you laugh until you felt his hand pass over your chest and touch your breast. He settled you against the wall, now your pussy positioned on his erect dick, grinding it thanks to his arms that held you in the air.
At no point did either of you stop the music, letting the playlist roll on and cover the sweet moans coming out of your mouth.
Some freshman ventured into the gym when they heard faint groans creep through the large metal doors.
They got the scare of their lives when they saw Floyd pounding from behind you, staring straight at the entrance and throwing death threats with just his eyes.
Epel
Do it like a dude – Jessie J
Listen to me... you can't tell the only woman at NRC that she can't participate in a dance competition because "it's only for guys"
Uhhhhhhhhh, if I was in that situation how would break their teeth.
Buuuut, you were able to defend yourself in a better way… going to the middle of the training ground where the competition (led by Professor Vargas) was taking place.
I have to say that you left all the participants with icy skin? Other than making them feel like they have a small dick. Straight to the ego.
And Epel was no different. He wasn’t embarrassed by the fact that a girl had beaten him in steps that were recognized later is another matter not ashamed at all, not at all.
Which did bring his ego to the ground and his self-esteem was to see you give your all to overthrow sexism, while he could barely stand in the same line as those of Savannaclaw.
Either way, he enjoyed watching you dance, you seemed re-empowered and that gave you an aura of a strong and powerful woman.
If those who refused to let you participate didn’t give you the prize, rest assured that Epel will leave them in their place, perhaps with the help of Deuce.
He asked you how you could have so much confidence in yourself and that may have caused a butterfly effect ... he wanted to know, well you will teach him in bed.
Two or three tricks may have taken effect and in the next competition (or anything) Epel will give his best, even if he has you as an opponent.
Victory sex for whoever wins? Victory sex.
Sebek
Play with Fire – Sam Tinnesz
You were calm in the comfort of your bedroom, going over some class assignments, some background music, Grimm sleeping next to the bed. A normal day.
But quite boring.
You decided to go down to do a little stretching, so much time hunched over in bed looking at the notes it makes your back very bad. You took your cell phone and left the little cat sleeping comfortably.
Between those stretches you got the idea of practicing a little choreography, nothing too complicated or time consuming; maybe half an hour, forty minutes and that's it.
Well, it ended up being a two hour workout, doing one choreography more complicated than the other. Night had fallen and you were supposed to have a little "date" with Sebek right in your bedroom.
There were knocks on the door, but with the volume of the music you couldn't hear them, nor did you hear the creak of the door opening and closing.
Sebek found you in the middle of the living room, moving your arms around your body. He’s not stupid, he knew you were doing a choreography and he would have enough patience to let you finish it and show up.
What he didn’t expect was to see your figure fall to the floor and move in those ... eccentric movements
Indecent thoughts get out of this mind.
You finished dancing and Sebek was still standing in the middle of the hall, not knowing what to do, where to look, and if he was allowed to speak.
"Sebek are you ok? When did you came in?"
Completely taken out of his reverie, ready to continue the evening as if nothing had happened.
Inwardly he was dying of excitement.
Without telling you anything, with the "date" half finished, having a good and sweet dinner, he just ... slamed you against the wall and took you right there and there.
You both ended up scaring poor Grimm. He just wanted to come down to eat his tuna.
Silver
Maria - 화사 (Hwasa)
It wasn’t unusual to hear multiple and different songs in the corridors of Diasomnia, especially with Lilia as a member of the light music club; it was normal to hear all kinds of rhythms, even different languages.
Therefore, Silver didn’t find it unusual to hear Korean lyrics as he walked through the lounge of his dorm.
What he did think was strange was hearing footsteps and blows, which had a very peculiar resemblance to the rhythm of music.
In a corridor somewhat away from the common area, which led to a small meeting room and greater tranquility, you were there with the music blasting and dancing as if you were the owner of the place.
Don't get me wrong, Silver was 1000% okay with you dancing in his dorm, even if you wanted to do it on a table in the middle of the lounge room… be his guest.
What he couldn’t allow was his roommates seeing you so… free, sure of yourself, indisputably if you were wearing sports clothes or little clothes, leaving nothing to the imagination.
And if Malleus was among those people… ufff, a big no from our silver boy.
He would go to where you were and lift you by the legs, placing you on his shoulder and commenting that you could continue your dance in a more private place.
That place was his room.
"The way you dance is ... intoxicating"
If at any time the brilliant idea of approaching Silver occurs to you while you dance, take it for granted that he will grab you in his arms and throw you on the bed.
Nope, he's not going to let you finish the choreography. He has another type of choreography in mind.
Lilia put up a do not disturb sign on the other side of the door, proud to see his son a grown-up… apart from the fact that he would have a little “chat” with him immediately after the deed it doesn't matter if you’re still naked and pathetically covered with sheet, he would just *pufff*
I absolutely adored the writing piece you made with Leona (the pregnancy one), I can’t help myself rereading it 😭 could you make a continuation of it? How life was after their daughter was born.
I think...I went a little overboard with the word count, and I also made it a bit chaotic at the end. Reader being a boss even while being a mother. We support strong and empowered mothers!
Smooooch!! First part here
The morning sunlight poured through the sheer curtains, painting golden shapes on the walls — warm, alive, and far too early for Leona’s liking, then the first tremor hit the bed.
Then another, and another.
“Mommy! Mommy, wake up! The sun’s already out!”
A tiny weight landed squarely on your stomach, making you grunt. Before you could even open your eyes, small hands grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks together.
“Mmnh, Morning, sweetheart,” you mumbled, your voice rough from sleep. “What did we say about pouncing on people before breakfast?”
“But the day’s awake!” Amani, your daughter giggled, bouncing again, this time nearly missing Leona’s tail under the blanket.
He groaned from somewhere in the pillow pile, ears twitching but eyes resolutely closed. “...The day can wait,” came his muffled voice, followed by the lazy flick of his tail against your leg.
You shot him a look, not that he could see it, and sighed, pressing a kiss to Amani’s forehead. “Alright, little lion. Let’s get you something to eat before you start hunting for bugs in the house again.”
“Can we have pancakes?”
“With fruit, yes. With chocolate, maybe. With bugs, never.”
She laughed, a bright sound that made the sleepy warmth of the room feel even softer. Carefully, you shifted to sit up, one hand supporting your belly. The movement was slower these days, five months along and already feeling like you were carrying a small sun inside you.
Leona cracked one eye open, watching you from under his messy hair. “You shouldn’t be movin’ around so early,” he murmured, voice deep and thick with sleep. “Let her tire herself out first.”
You raised a brow at him, already reaching for your robe. “Sure. And when she starts climbing the kitchen counter, I’ll tell her Daddy said it was fine.”
He huffed, somewhere between a laugh and a growl, and rolled over, pulling the blanket up to his ears. “...Brat gets that energy from your side,” he mumbled.
“Good,” you said, smiling as your daughter tugged your hand. “Otherwise, the whole house would still be asleep.”
Amani’s little hand was warm in yours as you crossed the hallway. She was humming some made-up tune, skipping every few steps despite your repeated “slow down, love.” Her braids bounced with each movement, catching the sunlight like streaks of amber. You couldn’t help but smile; seven years, and she still woke with the sun as if it were calling her by name.
The royal dining hall was bathed in soft gold light, the kind that filtered lazily through the tall windows and made everything shimmer. The air smelled faintly of jasmine tea and freshly baked bread, breakfast for the royal family was already set, as always, courtesy of Falena’s unshakable punctuality.
Falena looked up first when you entered, his ever-calm face brightening. “Good morning,” he greeted, voice smooth and tired all at once, the kind of exhaustion that came with years of diplomacy. His wife, the queen, smiled warmly and gestured toward the seats. “You’re just in time, dear. We were starting to think Leona would sleep through another breakfast.”
You laughed softly, easing Amani into her seat. “He’s trying to set a new record, I think.”
Cheka, now sixteen and tall enough to tower over you when standing, snorted into his juice. “He’s been like that since I was five! Uncle Leona’s allergic to mornings.”
The queen gave a quiet chuckle. “It must be a family trait. But at least Amani seems to have inherited your energy.”
“She inherited everyone’s energy,” you said, smoothing Amani’s hair as she reached for a fruit tart. “She’s been up since dawn. The moment the light hit the curtains, it was like-” you waved your hands in a little explosion “-instant chaos.”
“Mommy! I wasn’t chaos!” Amani protested, her cheeks puffing up indignantly. “I was helping wake up Daddy!”
Cheka leaned across the table with a teasing grin. “And how did that go?”
“He said ‘the day can wait’ but the sun's still in the sky!”
Laughter rippled through the table. Even Falena cracked a small smile before sipping his tea. “Some things never change,” he murmured.
You were about to reply when the familiar sound of heavy, dragging footsteps echoed down the corridor. The door creaked open, and in shuffled Leona, hair a glorious disaster, half his tunic untied, and eyes barely open. He yawned, long and unbothered, before slouching into the chair beside you.
“Morning, your loud majesties,” he muttered, voice gravelly. “Morning, troublemaker.”
Amani beamed, proud of herself. “Daddy! You made it to breakfast!”
Leona cracked an eye, staring at her as though he couldn’t decide between amusement and disbelief. “Barely,” he said, reaching for the tea pot. His tail flicked lazily behind him, the picture of a man who would have traded the entire kingdom for five more minutes of sleep.
Falena chuckled quietly. “Still not a morning lion, little brother?”
Leona poured his tea with an exaggerated sigh. “Why ruin perfection? The sun rises too early. It’s unnatural.”
You elbowed him lightly, biting back a smile. “Tell that to your daughter. She’s been bouncing off the walls since dawn.”
He grunted, pretending to sulk. “Before midday she's your daughter”
“Fine by me,” you shot back, taking a sip of your tea while Amani giggled at your playful sparring. The warmth in your chest wasn’t just from the warm liquid, it was from the soft, ordinary peace of it all. The clinking of dishes, the lazy hum of voices, the sunlight draping over the royal table.
Leona leaned back in his chair, finally awake enough to look around. His gaze lingered on you for a moment, softening slightly as it dropped to your rounded belly. “You should’ve stayed in bed,” he murmured. “You need rest.”
“I needed breakfast,” you replied, meeting his eyes with a smirk. “And someone had to make sure you remembered what morning looks like.”
He snorted under his breath, but his tail brushed against your ankle beneath the table, a quiet gesture of affection, hidden but deliberate.
Amani caught the motion, grinned mischievously, and whispered to Cheka, “Daddy’s tail said hi to Mommy.”
Cheka stifled a laugh, and even Falena’s composed façade wavered. Leona groaned and rubbed his forehead, muttering something about traitorous cubs.
The queen only smiled knowingly. “It’s a good morning,” she said softly. “The kingdom could use more mornings like this.”
Amani barely managed to finish half her fruit tart before her attention began to drift elsewhere. Her eyes wandered to the tall glass doors opening onto the wide golden expanse of the royal prado, sunlight spilling over the long grass, flowers nodding in the breeze, and a few lionesses already moving about their morning drills in the distance.
“Chekaaaa,” she sing-songed, tugging at her older cousin’s sleeve. “Come on! Let’s go outside! You promised yesterday!”
Cheka rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth betrayed a smile. “I said maybe.”
“Then maybe means yes!” she declared, already pulling him toward the courtyard doors. Falena’s amused chuckle followed them as they disappeared beyond the archway, sunlight flooding in their wake. The faint sound of birdsong drifted back in, carried by the morning breeze.
You exhaled, easing back into your chair, a hand resting protectively on your belly. The warmth of the tea in your other hand was grounding, soothing after the whirlwind your daughter left behind. For a few rare moments, the dining hall felt quiet again. Peaceful.
Leona reached for another slice of fruit, slow and deliberate, his movements feline in their unhurried grace. When his tail brushed against your leg again, it wasn’t teasing this time, just instinctive comfort. He leaned slightly toward you, his emerald eyes softer than they’d been all morning.
“She’s growing up fast,” he said finally, his voice low and almost thoughtful.
You smiled faintly. “Too fast. Yesterday she was still small enough to nap on your chest.”
“Still does sometimes,” he murmured, his hand finding its way to your stomach. His thumb traced light, absent circles over the curve there, almost reverent. “This one’ll be the same.”
Your breath caught for a moment, not because of surprise, but because you weren’t used to this version of him. Leona, the laziest man in the savanna, sitting up early just to talk about children. The quiet pride in his eyes was impossible to ignore.
Falena, ever the observer, set down his cup with a small smile. “You’re both doing well. The pride’s… different, with her around. Livelier.”
The queen nodded. “Amani reminds me of myself at that age. Brave. Curious. She’s got that spark.” Her gaze turned toward you. “Have you thought about letting her train with the lionesses?”
You blinked, caught off guard. “Train...with them?”
Leona leaned back, arms crossing loosely over his chest. “It’s not a bad idea. She’s got energy to burn. The huntresses could teach her discipline.”
You frowned a little, tracing the edge of your teacup. “She’s seven.”
Falena gave a thoughtful hum. “That’s around the age they start observing, not hunting. She wouldn’t be fighting, only learning the basics, awareness, tracking, respect for nature.”
Leona’s tail flicked once behind him, a lazy rhythm. “She’s already halfway there. I caught her stalking butterflies last week.”
You turned your head sharply toward him. “She what?”
He smirked, unapologetic. “She’s got instincts.”
The queen laughed softly, setting her napkin aside. “When I was her age, I trained with the lionesses too. It taught me patience, and humility. It’s not dangerous, not at this stage.”
You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I know, but…” You looked out toward the courtyard, where the sun caught a glimpse of movement, Amani's laugh carrying back faintly through the air. “She’s still so small. The world can wait to test her.”
Leona’s hand found yours on the table, the weight of his palm grounding. “You can’t keep her in the shade forever, herbivore. She’s got my blood too.”
You met his gaze, and for a heartbeat, the lazy grin was gone, replaced by something older, steadier. Pride, maybe. Or a quiet kind of fear that mirrored your own.
Falena’s voice was gentler now. “Watch the training once. No pressure. You’ll see if she’s ready.”
You hesitated, glancing between them, Falena calm, his wife encouraging, Leona waiting with that unreadable patience. Then, slowly, you exhaled.
“We’ll see,” you said at last, earning a small smile from Leona and a triumphant one from the queen.
The moment lingered in the quiet that followed, the sound of the wind rustling through open windows, the scent of warm tea, the promise of sunlight spilling into the day.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
The sun hung high over the savanna, pouring heat and life into the golden grass. The training grounds behind the palace were wide and open, ringed by trees that offered shade to the few spectators allowed to watch. You stood beneath one of those acacias, a hand instinctively resting over your belly as you followed Amani’s every move.
She stood a few paces away from the lionesses; taller women, strong and graceful, their postures sharp and unyielding. Their fur-trimmed armor glinted under the sun. Amani looked impossibly small among them, her hair tied back with a strip of cloth, her tunic a little too big, her tail twitching with nervous excitement.
The head lioness, an older warrior named Makena, paced before the small group of cubs assembled for their first lesson. “Discipline comes before strength,” she said, her voice low but commanding. “You must learn to listen to the ground, to the wind, to your instincts. Power means nothing if you don’t respect what moves around you.”
Amani was trying her best to stand tall, though her tail betrayed her, flicking left and right in restless bursts. You smiled faintly, that was pure Leona in her, that stubborn energy that refused to stay still.
Makena clapped once, the sound echoing like a drumbeat. “Line up. Eyes forward.”
The cubs obeyed. Amani hesitated half a second too long, and immediately received a sharp, “Focus, cub!” from the instructor.
Your body tensed on instinct, every protective nerve flaring, but you bit your lip and stayed where you were. This was what you’d agreed to. She was to be treated like any other young lioness, not like a princess, not like Leona’s daughter.
Still, it was harder than you thought it would be.
Makena began the drills, crouching, balance, silent steps over marked ground. The lionesses circled, correcting posture, tapping shoulders or tails with their staffs when needed. When Amani’s heel lifted too soon, she earned a light whack against her ankle. She winced, adjusted, and tried again.
“She’s learning,” came a calm voice beside you.
You turned slightly and saw the queen approaching, her presence as steady as the breeze. She smiled, the kind of smile that had seen this a hundred times before. “I remember my first day out there,” she said softly. “Makena was the same. Tough as stone, but fair. She teaches pride before pride teaches you.”
You nodded, not taking your eyes off Amani. “I know. I just... She’s still my little girl.”
The queen’s gaze softened. “She’ll always be. But she’s also Leona’s. That means she’s born to fight for what she believes in.”
You breathed out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “One of him is already enough.”
“True,” she admitted, smiling. “But maybe she’ll take the best parts of both of you.”
Out on the field, Amani finally managed a perfect crouch, tail low, body balanced, eyes focused. Makena paused, observing her, then gave a curt nod. “Good,” she said. “Remember that feeling. That’s how a lioness moves when she’s ready to hunt.”
You couldn’t help the pride that bloomed in your chest. It was so fierce it almost hurt.
“She’s got her father’s instincts,” the queen murmured, following your gaze.
You smiled faintly. “And her mother’s patience, I hope.”
The queen chuckled. “Maybe. Though from what I hear, that depends on the morning.”
You laughed quietly, then fell silent again, watching as the sun stretched long shadows across the field. The cubs continued their drills, small, determined figures in the golden dust. Amani stumbled once, caught herself, then grinned wide when she managed to stay upright.
Leona would’ve teased her for that grin, you only pressed a hand over your heart and whispered to yourself, “You’re doing fine, little one.”
The sun was beginning to tilt westward, softening its glare into a mellow gold. Training had gone on longer than you expected, though Amani had managed to keep up better than most. Makena even offered her a brief nod of approval, high praise from someone who considered smiling an unnecessary luxury.
But as the drills ended and the lionesses dismissed the cubs, the atmosphere shifted. The discipline faded, and in its place came the chatter of children, too loud, too sharp, too honest.
Amani bent to tie the strap of her sandals when she heard them.
“She moves funny.”
“It’s because her mom’s not even a lioness.”
“She’s not supposed to be here anyway. My mom says she only got in because her dad’s a prince.”
You’d been walking closer, slow and careful, when the words reached you. Each one pricked like a thorn. You froze in the shadow of the acacia tree again, unseen but listening.
“Maybe she’ll roar when she’s older,” one of the girls said with a snicker. “If she can.”
“What’s she gonna hunt?” another whispered, though it was loud enough to be heard halfway across the field. “Butterflies?”
Amani’s shoulders stiffened, her hands curling into fists. You could tell she wanted to snap back, the same fire that burned in Leona’s veins flickered in her eyes, but she swallowed it. Her tail drooped low, a silent surrender.
Makena called for the end of session, her voice echoing across the training ground. “Good work today, cubs. Tomorrow, same time. Remember: pride before pride.”
The lionesses began to disperse, and the cubs scattered toward their mothers waiting nearby. The murmurs of gossip rose like cicadas, harmless noise for most, but sharp as knives to your ears. You stepped forward at last, your sandals crunching softly on the dry earth. Amani turned when she heard you, and for a heartbeat, her eyes brightened, then faltered again.
“Hey, little lion,” you said gently, crouching down beside her. “You did really well out there.”
She shrugged, trying to hide the tiny tremor in her voice. “They don’t think so.”
You brushed the dust from her cheek with your thumb. “They don’t know what they’re talking about.”
Her small mouth wobbled. “They said I don’t belong. Because I’m not... all lion.”
You sighed, pulling her close, the scent of sun and sweat and grass clinging to her hair. “You belong everywhere you walk, Amani. You’re part of the savanna, and the savanna knows you. The others just don’t see it yet.”
She leaned into you, quiet for a long moment. “Do you think they’ll like me someday?”
You smiled softly, pressing your forehead against hers. “They’ll learn to. And if they don’t...well, then they’ll learn to respect you.”
That earned a small giggle, faint, but real. You stood and took her hand, her small fingers curling around yours. The sun caught the fine dust rising around your steps as you began walking back toward the palace.
Behind you, the lionesses continued their drills in the distance, their chants a rhythmic pulse in the air. Ahead, the cool shadows of the palace promised rest and quiet, safety from the sharp edges of the world.
As you crossed from the field into the shade, you glanced down at Amani. Her ears drooped, but her chin lifted just a little. Brave. Stubborn. So much like her father. You squeezed her hand gently. “Come on, cub. Let’s go tell Daddy you survived your first day.”
And though she didn’t answer, you saw the corner of her mouth twitch upward, the spark of pride still alive beneath the hurt, as the two of you disappeared into the cool halls of the royal home.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
Night draped itself over the palace in layers of indigo and gold. The air was warm and thick with the hum of crickets, the steady rhythm of life beyond the stone walls. You sat on the edge of the bed, brushing out your hair in slow, distracted motions while Leona lazed half-buried in the sheets, his mane a dark sprawl over the pillow.
Amani had long since fallen asleep in her own room, exhausted from the day’s training. You’d checked on her twice already; once to tuck her blanket higher, and again just to make sure her tail hadn’t slipped off the bed. She slept curled like a cub, cheek pressed into her pillow, the faintest frown still etched between her brows.
That frown was what followed you back here. Leona leaned against the doorframe, half-dressed for bed, his long hair unkempt from running his hands through it too many times. Leona’s tail flicked idly as his ears turned toward you. “You’ve been quiet since dinner,” he murmured, voice low and rough from sleep. “Something’s gnawing at you.”
You set the brush down and sighed. “I don’t like how they treat her.”
He cracked one eye open. “The lionesses?”
You sighed, curling your hands together in your lap. “The lionesses were fine. Strict, but fair. The problem isn’t them.”
Leona pushed off the doorframe and padded closer, the soft thud of his steps muffled by the carpet. He didn’t say anything, just waited, patient in that way he always was when something mattered.
You drew in a breath. “It’s the other cubs.”
His ears twitched.
“They were whispering about her,” you went on, voice tightening. “About me. About you. Saying she doesn’t belong because she’s not ‘fully lion.’”
For a moment, the only sound was the slow ticking of the wall clock. Leona’s expression didn’t change much, but his eyes did. The easy warmth dimmed, replaced by something darker, older.
He sank onto the bed beside you, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. “Tch. Same song, different verse.”
You looked at him. “You knew this would happen?”
“I knew the pride,” he said simply. His voice was quiet, but it carried weight, like sand just before it turns into a storm. “They love strength, and they fear what doesn’t fit their mold. I’ve heard every version of that talk since I was old enough to walk.”
You hesitated. “Because you’re the second prince?”
He huffed, tail swishing once. “Because I was the wrong kind of prince. Not the heir, not the golden son. My magic wasn’t the kind that built, it destroyed. Everyone had a reason to whisper.”
You turned toward him fully now, studying his profile, the scar at the edge of his eye and the tired sharpness of it. He looked every bit the king he never could be, and the boy who’d learned too early that pride had teeth.
He rubbed the back of his neck, a small, humorless smile tugging at his mouth. “Then I went to Night Raven College. Thought it’d be better. But it’s the same everywhere, herbivore. People see difference, and they find a way to make it your problem.”
You were quiet for a long time. The soft rustle of curtains filled the space between you.
“It’s not fair to her,” you said finally, your voice low but steady. “She’s kind, Leona. Brave. She just wants to belong, and they make her feel like she shouldn’t even try.”
Leona turned to you then, really looked at you. “You think I don’t get that?” His tone wasn’t angry, but there was a raw edge beneath it. “I’ve lived my whole life being told what I wasn’t. Not the heir. Not good enough. Not worth the throne.” He leaned back, exhaling hard. “And now they’re doing it to my kid.”
Your heart clenched. “Then we stop it. Somehow.”
His hand came to rest over yours, rough and warm. “We don’t stop it,” he said quietly. “We teach her to walk through it.”
You frowned. “That sounds cruel.”
“It’s survival,” he replied, voice soft but sure. “You can’t change every tongue that talks behind her back. But you can make sure she never doubts who she is.”
You stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “And who is she?”
He smirked faintly, just one corner of his mouth lifting. “A lion who learned to roar from her mother.”
The room fell into a gentle silence. You leaned against his shoulder, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. The night outside was calm, but his words lingered like the low growl of thunder before rain.
He pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice a low murmur. “Let ’em talk. The pride can run its mouth all it wants. Our cub’ll make her own story.”
You smiled faintly against his chest. “You really believe that?”
His tail curled lazily around your leg. “I don’t believe. I know.”
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
The savanna had shifted with the seasons; greener now, thicker with the smell of rain and warm earth. The cicadas hummed lazily in the distance, and the horizon shimmered under the late afternoon light.
You stood beneath the shade of an archway that opened toward the training field, one hand braced on the stone wall, the other resting protectively on your swollen belly. Eight months along, and the palace had made it very clear that you weren’t to walk anywhere alone. There was always a guard nearby now, standing a polite distance away, close enough to act, far enough to let you breathe.
The memory of your first pregnancy still lingered in everyone’s mind, especially yours: the sudden pain, the rush of shouts, Leona’s wild panic when your water broke right in the middle of the field. Falena had banned you from walking the outer grounds alone ever since.
Still, nothing could keep you from watching her.
Amani was out there now, her small frame darting between the other young lionesses. Three months of training had reshaped her movements, less erratic, more deliberate. She was learning control, the rhythm of muscle and instinct that came from repetition and pride.
You smiled faintly, brushing sweat from your temple. Makena was still as unyielding as ever, her voice carrying clearly across the field. “Balance! Eyes forward, tail steady! You’re lionesses, not frightened gazelles!”
The cubs obeyed, some stumbling, some giggling. Amani was near the front of the line, her brows furrowed in concentration.
From your place in the shadows, you caught the subtle differences, the way she no longer flinched when corrected, the confidence beginning to root itself in her stance. But every now and then, you saw the glances from the others, those tiny, sharp looks passed between whispers.
They weren’t as cruel now, but they were there. Children, after all, repeated what they heard at home.
“Half-human,” one of them hissed when Makena turned her back. “Bet she can’t even run without tripping.”
Amani’s tail twitched, a sign that she’d heard. But she said nothing.
Your jaw tightened, nails pressing faintly against your palm. The guard beside you, a stoic lion in polished armor, pretended not to notice, but his tail flicked once in silent acknowledgment. You weren’t the only one who disapproved.
Then, Amani moved.
Makena had called for a sprint across the practice field, a test of endurance. The cubs took off in a blur of sand and sunlight, small paws kicking up dust. The air rang with laughter and competition. And there she was; Amani, running with her tail streaming behind her, face determined.
She didn’t take the lead right away, but she kept pace, steady, breathing through her nose just as Leona had taught her. You could almost hear his voice from memory: “Don’t fight the wind. Use it.”
By the final stretch, the lead cub stumbled, and Amani surged past, small but unyielding. She crossed the marker first, collapsing into the grass with a triumphant laugh.
Makena raised an eyebrow, her usual stoicism cracking into the faintest smirk. “Hmph. Seems the little princess has claws after all.”
The other cubs caught up, panting, and though some still shot her wary looks, a few smiled. Just a few. It was enough.
You felt your throat tighten, a mix of pride and relief.
Makena called for cooldown drills, and the lionesses began to disperse. You stepped back from the doorway, easing against the wall for support. The baby shifted inside you, a slow, reassuring flutter that made you chuckle softly. “You felt that too, huh?” you whispered. “Your sister’s making her own kind of roar.”
Leona would have loved to see it, but he was still locked in council meetings with Falena, something about trade agreements and security drills. Still, you could already imagine the smug look on his face when you told him Amani had won her first sprint.
As the cubs began to leave, Amani spotted you across the field. Her eyes lit up instantly.
“Mom!” she called, running toward you.
“Careful!” you said, half laughing, half panicking as you instinctively reached out to steady her. She slowed down just in time, throwing herself gently into your arms.
“You saw?” she asked, breathless, still glowing from her victory, chest rising and falling with the quick breaths of a child who’d finally felt seen.
You bent to her level, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. “You did amazing,” you murmured. “I’m so proud of you.”
Amani’s arms wrapped around your belly, her laughter muffled against your robes. For a moment, it was perfect, warm, peaceful, full of the simple joy that only existed between a mother and her child.
You almost didn’t catch it; soft, clipped, meant for someone else, but the words carried anyway.
“Of course she came again. Always watching from the shadows like she owns the place.”
“She’s only here because of her husband. If she weren’t-”
“Half-blood cubs and a human consort. The royal line’s getting weaker every year.”
Your body went still.
Amani froze too, feeling the change in your heartbeat against her cheek. She looked up, confused, the sunlight catching the shimmer in her wide emerald eyes. “Mom?”
You swallowed hard, jaw tightening. For months, you’d bitten your tongue. You’d smiled politely, bowed when expected, ignored the whispers about your blood, your daughter, your place in a kingdom that would never truly see you as one of their own.
But not today.
You straightened slowly, untangling Amani’s embrace and turned. The movement was calm, almost regal. The cluster of lioness mothers stood a few paces away, pretending to busy themselves, fixing a strap, whispering again, exchanging smirks that burned through your patience like dry grass under the sun.
“Say it again,” you said quietly.
The murmuring stopped.
The guard beside you shifted, uneasy, but you lifted a hand, not to him, but to silence everything, and the air stilled. When you spoke, your voice wasn’t raised. It didn’t need to be, it carried with the kind of authority born from calm anger, the kind that makes even predators hesitate.
The women stiffened, ears flicking back. You stepped forward, each motion deliberate, the guard’s gaze flicking between you and the lionesses but wisely staying silent.
“I said,” you continued, voice low but steady, “say it again. Whatever it is you were whispering. I couldn’t quite hear it from over here.”
No one spoke.
The eldest of the group, a lioness draped in silk and self-importance, raised her chin slightly. “Princess consort,” she said, her tone dripping false respect, “we meant no offense. It’s only… unusual, to see a child of mixed blood trained with-”
“With what?” you interrupted, your words sharp as claws. “With real lionesses?” The woman faltered.
You took another step closer, your presence quiet but heavy, the same gravity Leona carried when he commanded a room.
“You will not speak of me, or my daughter, in that way again.”
A few ears flattened, one of the lionesses froze and shrank behind another.
“I’ve stood here, in the heat, through every lesson, every bruise, every whisper. I’ve listened to you sneer from the safety of your shade. And I’ve kept silent out of respect, for my husband, for his brother, for this pride.”
You drew a steady breath, your hand resting on your belly, protective and defiant all at once. “But you seem to have forgotten who I am.”
Amani gripped your hand now, her small fingers trembling, but she didn’t pull away.
“I am the wife of Prince Leona Kingscholar,” you continued, each word sharper than the last. “I carry his cub. I stand beside him by right; not by pity, not by convenience. And you will show me, my daughter, and this unborn heir the respect owed to the crown of Afterglow Savanna.”
The field had gone utterly silent. The lionesses nearby, even Makena, had turned their heads, watching in wordless stillness.
Your gaze swept across the women, all the faces that had whispered for months, now too afraid to meet your eyes. “You teach your daughters to hunt,” you said, voice lowering. “Start teaching them honor.”
Then, without another word, you turned back to Amani, who was staring up at you with something between awe and disbelief. Her small hand gripped yours with more confidence.
You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself. “Come on, little lion. We’re done for today.”
Her tail flicking happily as you led her toward the palace. The whispers had stopped after your outburst; or so you thought. As you passed by the line of lioness mothers, a younger one, maybe only a few years older than you, muttered just loud enough for everyone to hear.
“Some people forget where they came from once they marry into royalty.”
A few of the others snickered, the sound sharp and mean.
You stopped. For a heartbeat, the world went very still, even the cicadas outside seemed to go quiet. The guard took a cautious step forward. Amani’s grip on your hand tightened.
You turned, slowly.
The young lioness’s smirk faltered when she saw your face. The calm you’d worn seconds ago had vanished, replaced by something far older, the look of someone who’d learned long ago that respect, when not given, could be taken.
You moved before anyone could stop you.
One sharp step forward, the sound of your sandals crunching against the sand, and then your fist connected squarely with her jaw.
The impact echoed through the training grounds, sharp and clean. The woman stumbled backward, clutching her face in stunned silence. Gasps rippled through the crowd of lionesses, but no one dared to speak.
Your hand stung, the ache blooming hot and satisfying up your arm. You didn’t flinch. You just stared down at her, your breathing steady. “That,” you said coolly, “was in defense of my daughter’s name… and my husband’s honor.”
The words weren’t shouted. They didn’t need to be. They rolled through the air with quiet finality, like a verdict handed down by the crown itself. The lioness glared up at you, eyes flashing, but didn’t move. One of the older huntresses caught her arm before she could respond, shaking her head silently.
You glanced at the stunned lioness, voice calm but deadly precise. “If you ever open your mouth against my family again, I’ll forget I’m supposed to be diplomatic.”
The guard didn’t move. Makena, who had been watching from a distance, crossed her arms but didn’t interfere, her expression unreadable, though you caught the faintest twitch at the corner of her mouth.
The young mother, red-faced and humiliated, opened her mouth but no sound came out. You turned away from her, dusting your hands together like you’d finished something unpleasant.
Amani looked up at you, eyes wide as moons. “Mom…”
You crouched slightly, your tone softening instantly for her alone. “You protect what’s yours, little lion. Always.”
Then you stood tall again, every inch of you radiating the quiet, unshakable authority that no royal title could grant, only earn. You took Amani’s hand and began walking toward the palace, your steps unhurried, the crowd parting like tall grass before a storm.
When you reached the palace doors, Amani looked up at you again, her eyes shining. “Does Daddy know you can punch like that?”
You gave her a small, proud smile. “He taught me not to start fights,” you said, glancing back once at the silent training grounds. “But he also taught me how to finish them.”
Only the sound of your sandals brushing against the sun-warmed stone was heard on the field, and the quiet, proud hum of a mother who had finally, finally roared.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
The room was dim, lit only by the faint orange glow of the oil lamp and the silver thread of moonlight spilling through the curtains. The air was thick with that end-of-day quiet; the kind that settles after a storm, soft and heavy but strangely peaceful.
Amani was already half asleep, curled against her pillow with one arm draped around her favorite stuffed toy, a little lion cub, worn and loved. You hummed softly under your breath, smoothing her hair back. Her eyelids fluttered once, then again, until she finally drifted off, breathing slow and even.
You lingered for a while, just watching her. She looked so small in sleep, her features relaxed, the faintest smile still lingering, maybe from the story you’d just told, maybe from something she dreamed.
When you stood, your back twinged, the weight of the eight-month belly making movement slow. You pressed a hand there, stretching carefully. That’s when you felt it, the shift in the air. A familiar scent.
“You handled yourself well today.”
His voice came from the shadows by the doorway, low, lazy, but carrying that unmistakable undercurrent of pride.
Leona leaned against the frame, arms folded, golden eyes catching what little light the room offered. His mane was tousled from the day, his shirt open halfway down his chest, his usual smirk tempered into something more thoughtful.
You sighed, half amused, half exasperated. “You heard about that, huh?”
He raised an eyebrow, stepping closer. “Hard not to. News travels fast when the prince’s wife punches someone in the face.”
You winced, lowering your gaze briefly. “She deserved it.”
“Oh, I know.” His tone was slow, measured. He crouched beside Amani’s bed, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead with careful fingers. “Word is she insulted you and the kid. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“She was cruel,” you whispered, glancing toward your sleeping daughter. “And I just… snapped.”
Leona chuckled under his breath, quiet, so as not to wake her. “Guess that temper’s contagious. Must be from spending too much time with me.”
You crossed your arms, trying not to smile. “You’re not mad?”
He stood again, the movement fluid despite his size, and looked down at you. His expression softened, that rare, rare thing he only showed when no one else was watching. “Mad?” he echoed. “You defended our cub. Our pride. If anyone has a problem with that, they can take it up with me.”
You exhaled, tension draining from your shoulders. “I’m supposed to be the calm one.”
He smirked. “You were calm. You just had good aim.”
You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, quiet and tired. “You’re terrible.”
“I’m perfect,” he murmured, his hand finding your waist as he drew you close. “And apparently, so are you when you throw a punch.”
You rested your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. “I didn’t mean to make a scene.”
“You didn’t,” he said softly. “You made a point.” His tail curled lightly around your leg, possessive, protective. “Let them whisper. They won’t dare twice.”
You looked up at him, eyes glinting. “You sound proud.”
“I am.” His hand slid up to rest against your belly, warm and steady. The cub inside stirred, responding to his touch. Leona smiled faintly. “You protected the pride. That’s what lions do.”
The two of you stood in silence for a while, just listening to the soft breath of your sleeping daughter and the distant hum of the savanna outside.
Finally, Leona leaned down, his lips brushing your temple. “You’ve got nothing to prove, herbivore,” he murmured. “You already belong here, you made this place home.”
You smiled against his chest, whispering, “Then I’ll make sure our cubs remember that too.”
He rumbled a low, content sound, somewhere between a sigh and a purr, and guided you gently toward your bed. “Come on. Enough roaring for one day.”
And as the door closed softly behind you, the night wrapped the royal den in peace again, the quiet strength of a family that, finally, no one dared to underestimate.
╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌╌╌𖤐☽༓☾𖤐╌╌╌╌
The palace was quiet, too quiet, save for the rhythmic rush of wind outside the open windows and the muffled hum of servants moving hurriedly through the hallways. The air was thick with heat and the scent of medicinal herbs; the sky outside glowed with the first light of dawn, that soft blue hour when the savanna still held its breath.
Inside the birthing chamber, your world had narrowed to one sound, the shallow, uneven rhythm of your own breathing, and one constant presence beside you.
Leona’s hand gripped yours, firm and grounding. His other hand rested on your shoulder, steadying you through another wave of pain. Sweat glistened across his temple, though he wasn’t the one laboring, you could tell he was holding back the instinct to pace, to snarl at anyone who came too close.
“You’re almost there,” the healer said gently, though her tone betrayed the practiced calm of someone used to storms. “One more push.”
You grit your teeth, forcing air through your lungs. The pain crested, raw and sharp, and then broke, replaced by a cry so piercing, so alive, it shattered the silence.
You collapsed back against the pillows, chest heaving, tears spilling before you even realized you were crying. Leona exhaled too, the long, shaky breath of someone who’d been holding his soul hostage for hours.
The healer lifted the tiny bundle swaddled in white linen and smiled. “It’s a boy.”
Leona blinked, and for the briefest moment, all the tension melted away. His tail flicked once, almost reverently. “A boy,” he murmured, the words tasting new and soft on his tongue.
The healer handed the newborn to you. You looked down, and your breath caught. He was so small, impossibly so, tufts of dark-gold hair already curling against his head, little ears twitching faintly, skin flushed and warm. His cries softened the instant he felt your heartbeat beneath his cheek.
“Hey there, little one,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Welcome home.”
Leona leaned close, his hand brushing through your damp hair, his gaze locked on the baby. “You did good,” he said quietly, almost reverent, like it was a truth he wasn’t sure he deserved to speak aloud.
You looked up at him through the haze of exhaustion, lips curving. “We did.”
Outside, in the corridor flooded with the pale light of dawn, Amani sat on a bench between Cheka and her uncle Falena. Her small hands were clenched together so tightly her knuckles had gone pale, tail twitching anxiously against the polished floor. “Is it here yet? Daddy said he’d call me when it’s here!”
“Breathe, little one,” Falena murmured, voice steady and calm, though his own ears were tilted back with tension.
The door cracked open, and the healer smiled toward the hallway. “You may come in now, Princess.”
Amani practically stumbled through the doorway, her hair tousled from where she’d been leaning against Cheka’s arm. Her eyes were wide, glowing in the half-light, her tail swishing uncontrollably behind her.
“Mommy!” she gasped, slowing down only when she saw the bundle in Leona's arms. “Is that-?”
You nodded, smiling through tears. “Come meet your little brother.”
Leona stepped aside, watching quietly as Amani crept closer, almost afraid to breathe too loudly. Her small hands hovered in the air until you guided them gently beneath the swaddle. He adjusted the baby in his arms and gently leaned down so she could see. “Easy,” he murmured. “He’s smaller than your paw.”
Amani peeked over the edge of the blanket. The newborn blinked, slow, unfocused, then yawned, a soft, squeaky sound that made her giggle. “He’s so tiny,” she whispered, eyes shimmering with awe. “Smaller than the kittens behind the garden.”
You laughed softly. “He’ll grow fast. You’ll see.”
“What’s his name?” she whispered.
You smiled, tired but radiant. “Your father and I thought… Kito.”
Amani tilted her head. “What does it mean?”
“‘Precious one,’” Leona said, his voice deep and low. “Seemed right.”
Amani beamed. “He is precious.”
She reached out, carefully, and brushed a single finger against Kito’s tiny hand. The baby’s fingers closed around hers, clumsy, instinctive, but sure.
Amani gasped. “He’s holding me!”
You laughed softly, your heart aching in the best way. “Looks like he already knows his big sister.”
“Welcome, little brother.”
Leona leaned in, his lips brushing your temple as he looked down at both of them; his pride, his chaos, his world condensed into that single moment. For a man who’d once slept through every sunrise, he was utterly awake now.
And as Amani sat beside you, whispering softly to her new brother, Leona’s tail curled gently around the bedpost, a silent vow that this pride, his pride, would never fall apart.
they need to stop putting jyushi on a stage it makes me so incredibly jiroshi pilled because they would be in a band and it drives me up the wall. anyways imagine bb and bat going to their shows and supporting their little guys (they are singing a weezer cover)
JYUSHI BELONGS ON THE STAGE THATS HIS PLACE HE NEEDS TO KEEP GETTING PUT ON THE STAGE LOL anyway throwback to the arb event where they were in a band together (with gentaro lol)
calling bllk boys your husband while you're still dating ft. isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi rin, itoshi sae
notes: fluff, banter, down bad loverboys, use of "wife" in sae's but gn other than that
༄ isagi:
“... i’ll grab a chocolate shake, and my husband’s gonna get the vanilla.”
✣ freezes on the spot and stares at you with wide eyes. him? husband? you wanna marry him? he was hoping you were in the long haul the same way he was, but hearing those words from your mouth made him even giddier than he assumed he’d be. imagine when you two actually get married? he’ll be in the trenches.
⁀➷ “did you mean that?” he asks when the worker closes the window while you wait for your order. you can practically see the tail wagging behind him as he beams at you with those sparkling blue eyes. when you give a nod and a small smile, he has to stop himself from blowing up with excitement. instead, he kisses your forehead and murmurs, “i can’t wait to marry you one day.”
༄ nagi:
“oh, that copy in the corner! my husband’s been looking all over for it.”
✣ eternal soldier in the idgaf war. you can’t even tell if he heard you because his facial expression doesn’t budge in the slightest. he’s still tap-tapping away at his phone while the shop employee grabs the game case and hands it to you. it’s only once you’ve paid and left the store that he finally puts his phone down and rests his head on your shoulder from behind, staring up at you with those big, brown puppy eyes.
⁀➷ “‘husband’”? he asked softly, curious but not displeased. you nod sheepishly, admitting it just sort of came out before you had a chance to think. he hums softly, wrapping his arms around your waist and snuggling into your neck. cute as it is, you’re still very much in public, and he’s not exactly light. when you ask him to get off, his face shifts into a pout and he mumbles, “can’t believe i’m gonna marry someone so mean.” despite his attitude, this’ll be lingering on his mind for awhile.
༄ rin:
“excuse me? my husband wanted to kn-” “boyfriend.”
✣ is having absolutely none of it. he swears his blood pressure has gotten concerningly high since he started dating you and dealing with all your stupid pranks. it seems like he’s annoyed since he immediately interjected, but it’s more the opposite. he knows he wants to marry you, but do you really think he’s worth the trouble? looking that far into the future worries him, but he’d never let you know that.
⁀➷ a pair of lithe fingers squeezes your cheeks after rin pulls you away from the employee with a deadpan expression. he pulls at your cheeks with narrow eyes, asking you, “what the hell was that about? husband? are you stupid or something?” your lower lip juts out as you express to him that you really do want to marry him someday, and just wanted to hear how it sounded coming from your mouth. he knows you’re playing him as you try not to grin, but the confession is rather cute. he lets it slide with an “idiot” under his breath, and you decide not to mention the slight blush on his cheeks and the fact he has your hand in a vice grip as you walk out of the store.
༄ sae:
“oi. my wife asked for a medium. remake it.”
✣ beats you to the punch. he’s always one step ahead in every aspect of your relationship, but this is too much. how on earth did he know that you were gonna call him your husband to see his reaction? well - he didn’t. he just refers to you as his wife internally most of the time, and occasionally when he’s out buying gifts and tells the employee who he’s buying it for. after all, you’ll be his wife one day. might as well start early.
⁀➷ sae glances down at you, raising an eyebrow at your disgruntled expression. when you bemoan that he “stole your thunder,” he flicks you on the forehead before wrapping an arm around your waist. his lips brush against your ear, making you shiver while he speaks, “you do know that you being my wife also means i’m your husband, dumbass. does it matter who said what?” when you sputter and try to pull out the fact he hasn’t even proposed yet, he tugs you closer, looking irritated that you’d even bring up something so simple. it’s a cold day in hell before anyone else gets the chance, and he informs you as such, saying, “because none of the diamonds i’ve found are big enough,” leaving you speechless while he pretends like nothing happened. you’ll never win against him - ever.
prompt: @glitchy-bean: “Hi!!! I hope you're doing good!!! Could I request smth with a really forgetful reader + the avengers gang? More like found family than anything romantic at all with a teen reader if that's okay!!!”
“yeah, y/n, were you dropped on the head as a baby or something?” -tony
“cut it out, guys. it’s not their fault they forgot thor’s birthday. besides, hes had a couple thousand” -steve
“are you calling me old, captain?” -thor
“at least im not the only one” -steve
it wasn’t just birthdays you forgot
much much more serious than that
rendezvous points, mission details, plans of attack, perp descriptions, where you put your keys, where you put your gun
you name it you forgot it
i mean—not always, but enough for it to be the running joke
“keep your comms on, y/n. not having a disaster like last time when you couldn’t remember whether to cut the red wire or green wire” -tony
“you wish i cut the wrong one” -you
“uh, no, that’s very harsh. i moreso wished you didn’t scare us half to death by nearly digging your grave” -tony
“oh ok i forgot” -you
“who left their macaroni and cheese in the microwave?” -vision
“damn! its cold. and crusted a little. how long did i leave this in here?” -you, poking your tray with a fork “and why are you using the microwave? you dont eat”
“this is a shared space, is it not?” -vision
“he’s got you there” -steve
“you’re just ganging up on me because you’re all miserable and you want me to be miserable too. i’m going to drive one of tony’s expensive cars now, you can’t stop me” -you, storming out
you walked right back in
“what’d you forget?” -steve
“wallet, phone, keys” -you
tony noticed
“where is y/n going with my car?” -tony
“not sure, just out” -steve
“probably gonna forget their turn signal and crash into someone’s car” -tony
as far as missions went, though, you were a bit of a powerhouse so you didn’t really need to be looked after on that front…just had to make sure not to blow anyone else’s cover
“hey, what’s the codeword again?” -you
“check your wrist, kid” -nat
“oh, right…okay thanks” -you
“*gasp* was i supposed to give the signal? i just kinda went in” -you
“ok, who told y/n they could give the signal. speak up now” -tony
*clint loudly snickering over comms*
kinda forgetting what you’re talking about in the middle of sentences sometimes but like, just glitching out
“something smells like it’s burning” -you “my cookies…”
you forgot to set a timer
and forgot you were making cookies
the avengers honestly did find it endearing
just a hyper kid who cant get their thoughts in a solid line
but they’d continue making jabs at you constantly
“maybe wanda can fix your memory problems” -tony
“i will not” -wanda
“oh well nevermind then” -tony
honestly with all your forgetfulness, you worried as you dusted away if anyone would forget about you
