Boothill: Love Is Weakness And An Evolutionary Mistake.

Hellooo :3c I hope you are doing alright 🌸

I want to make a request, i got a silly idea and i hope you dont mind!

If posible, i would like to request for Riddle, Carter, Azul and Lilia and how they would react when while they were hanging out with their crush (or s/o, however you prefer) reader out of nowhere tells them that last night they had a dream where both were getting married, but like reader is telling them cuz the dreams was so wild, like in the old princess Disney movies everything was so animated, there were floating things everywhere and it was full of color and everyone was dancing (even the furniture)

The wedding bells

Type: Headcanons, SFW, Fluff, Romantic

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts; Cater Diamond; Azul Ashengrotto; Lilia Vanrouge; GN!Reader

AN: I might've gone a bit too sappy, let me know what you think

Riddle Rosehearts

-Riddle is slightly baffled, more so by the thought of you dreaming of a wedding with him as the groom, not how wierd it was. The latter at least makes sense, dreams are intended to be strange, like that one time he dreamt about being a tart. Nonetheless he's touched.

- The young man would be flustered, yet curious. Inanimate objects becoming... Animate? In tales about Queen of Hearts something similar acured on daily basis. Perhaps if the two of you do get married maybe he should try and arrange for the whole ordeal to be heavily based off of one of the Sevens? But that's jumping too fast and too far into the future.

- His mind wonders as you tell and more about your dream, as his face grows redder and redder with blush as you describe any detail involving him as the groom. He's both touched and embarrassed to an extent, yet he's happy that at least in your dream he stayed a proper gentleman.

- Riddle cannot get an image of you by the altar from his head for some time, both of you dressed for the ceremony, staring lovingly into each other's eyes... As he mentally scolds himself for daydreaming amids the day, he can't help but hope that one day that little dream of yours becomes reality for both of you.

Cater Diamond

- Oh?! Do tell him every little detail! Cater is not only happy that he was in your dream, but also was the groom? Oh did the two of you kiss? Did he feed you the cake, did you two dance with the furniture? The young man listens to your dream, exited expression on his face.

- It may be a dream, but now it's a shared dream between the two of you. Cater knows that you might be jumping over your heads with the hypothetical dream wedding of yours, but he doesn't care, he's already invested, trying to prey out as much detail as possible simply to try and envision the whole thing. He might even pull out some kind of Piccrew for rooms and try to recreate the place for giggles with you.

- Cater is also encouraging of your ideas or how dream might've ended or what happened in parts you don't remember no matter how silly or how little they make sense, so long as they make sense to you. He might even throw in his own theories or add even more redicules ideas, to make your dream seem even more whimsical.

- While Cater is obviously joking around, he does find the thought of marrying you a pleasant one. He's jealous even, the man wishes he saw a wedding with you in his dream, but then again, reality is just as pleasant if not better.

Azul Ashengrotto

- What. The man is flattered that he was in your dream, but mainly, what? Azul is a very analytic person in every aspect of his life, even if such aspect involves his significant other's dreams. Que his search history later on containing "Dreams of wedding meaning?"

- He might be a little red in a face or loss at words, but please don't stop, tell him all, the man lives for information. While he won't encourage such silly fantasies, he will entertain a thought of marriage to you. A lot... Maybe dancing and singing furniture is surface dwellers costume? He'll have to research.

-Ashengrotto will now daydream from time to time of a wedding, a life of being married to you, after the two of you graduate. Would the you stay on land? Perhaps you'd like to move to the Coral Sea with him, take up family business even? He might pretend that such silly fantasies don't affect him, but even capatlists aren't immune to love.

- Azul harbors such hopes and dreams, redoubling in his work. If he will be married to you he'll have to outdo your dream, which will involve outdoing alive furniture. The merman is ready for the challenge as long as it involves giving you everything, beyond your dreams.

Lilia Vanrouge

- You don't say... Alive furniture? Was it awkward to use it? Were chairs rioting if you sat in them? Was food also alive? Did he cook it? Then perhaps it was alive if that was the case. Lilia finds anything you say entertaining, your dreams are con exception. The man saw many things in his life, yet others visions during slumber were yet to be places he visits often.

- Before you know it Lilia is already imagining and building theories as to how it would be to live in your dream after that wedding if everything followed the same rules. Must be awkward taking a shower or using a toilet.

- The man wholeheartedly believes it tonbe a sign from someone above. While Vanrouge won't drop down on one knee right that instant, he will remember everything. The suite he was wearing, the cake the two of you ate, how many guests were there etc.

-Lilia is not young, so naturally thoughts of marriage crossed his mind more then once, let alone with his darling. While to you were retelling your silly dream, Vanrouge was imagining the real thing. He can't help it, life with you already feels like a dream come true, what's a wedding?

Prompt: "It's a Zing not a Fling" :: The moment they realize you're the one. Masterlist: LinkedUP Parts: Heartslabyul | Savanaclaw (Here) | Octavinelle | Scarabia | Pomefiore | Ignihyde | Diasomnia A/N: No bullets this time. Excuse my wheezing. I hope that I finally leveled up - Also I'm doing these out of order baybeee. Mixing it up hohoho.

Durable. Thick yet durable leather. It's part of Leona's skin at this point. His palms hide - feeling naked and alone - without the supple caress of leather. Gloves that he's adorned for as long as he can remember.

When was it, that his father gifted him a pair of gloves? Not too long after his unique magic was revealed, he knows that much. The exact day is lost to a time before he could recall such things. Before he had a reason to think twice about touching the world with his bare hands.

Now, all Leona knows is supple leather. Letting himself go bare alone in his bedroom is a risk. One he hadn't allowed himself until the ripened age of rebellion. In a country that worships the sun. Washes in the rain. A prince that turns the lush world to sand is a poison. No matter what assurance or empty reach for his potential - that damned word, it's never enough. He is never enough - a prince like him is no prince to the people.

In a world of firsts, he would forever lack.

Could he?

Your gaze, so tender. Focused solely on him. Welcoming. Urging but without words. His senses somehow dulled and heightened all at once. Nothing's distinguishable aside from the pounding in his chest, fangs digging inside his cheek to not let it show -

Soft to the touch. Smooth like polished marble. Warm like the sun kissing his skin through the drapes, on the cusp of dozing yet urging himself to linger, walk the in-between. His callused finger pads barely graze the surface of your thigh, lingering in the air with whatever restraint holding him from pressing his naked palms.

Your skin cracks.

All he did was graze. All Leona wanted was to feel. Even if you never let him again. The way flesh splits startles him - spreading outwards faster than he can comprehend- as if his wants deserved greater punishment. He reaches for you, teeth biting through his gums at your tenderness gone. Your gaze shackled with fear as the flesh between his fingers turns to sand -

"STOP!"

A guttural roar rips through Leona's throat - rasped, taken with labored breath - it could shatter windows if his room only had them.

A lion's mourning.

Leona fisted the sheets, tangled from his nightmares, his heart hammering as his senses all but thrusted themselves from dream to reality. Everything was clear. He could smell the raging waterfalls outside, taste iron on his tongue where gums had split, hear the night bugs sing their song, feel the knotted fabric under his palms.

Your picture, still safely nestled behind his standing chessboard. The frame solid. Whole.

Leona reached past into his desk drawer, and pulled out his gloves.

"I don't know how to swim"

"....wait, you're actually serious. There no lakes where you come from or somethin'?"

Leona drifted on the outer bank of the main falls in Savanaclaw. His legs kicked lazily, keeping him right where he needed to be against sand-rock and out of the splash zone. Without the loud yammering his dormmates would put him through whenever out in the lounge - it was almost a bearable swim.

"Comin' out here this late was your bright idea, herbivore. Now you're not even going to get in?" he taunted, eyes squinting through dark at your legs just inches from the ledge. The thought pops up to pull you in but he resists, although not hiding his temptation

You notice and step back, "I didn't realize it was this deep!"

"And what'd you think it was? A kiddie pool?"

"I thought it was safe!" you huff, cheeks puffing out like a bunny's. Not helping the thoughts in his head at all, "who puts an actual waterfall in a dormitory? What if someone drowns?"

"Then they drown," Leona shrugs, yawning wide as he turns on his back with his arms spread out across the rough ledge.

He cranes his neck back, smirking upwards at your skittish stance. The moonlight did wonders on your visage, swimsuit offering him more to see than he normally gets.

"Nice view," he grunts, snickering as you stiffen and try to cover yourself. Red dusting your cheeks, trailing down to spots normally hidden from him by a poorly done bowtie.

Smooth like polished marble. Split to crumbling ash.

Leona's fingers twitch, disappearing under the cool water as he pushes off the ledge into the water. Far enough for you to have space, but not to leave.

Your attention follows him carefully, instinctively stepping closer as he pulls away. He should get out, take you back upstairs to dry off. Make you comb through his hair as compensation for whatever this is but -

"You'll be fine," he says nonchalant, but his eyes zero-in as you teeter on the edge, "it's not that deep. I'm right here. Nothing will happen to you."

"...promise?"

Leona tries not to let that trust shake him. Weakness isn't meant to be shared between someone like him and someone like you. The balance of vulnerability was already thin.

"Promise."

You jump into the pool - and Leona finds himself wading closer once your head dips deep under the water. The ledge is there for you, he reminds himself. His palms feel naked but bandaged enough by the crisp water that he can ignore it.

Your shadow ripples under still water, flailing like a newborn calf and he's just about to dive under when you come up close - too close, his mind screams - and breech the surface.

Waves cascade as you take in air, eyes opening from their tight scrunch underwater and shimmer just a push away from him.

"Cold! Coooold! Oh my god, it's so COLD!"

Leona kicks his legs to hold against the ripple as you whip towards him, pushing your wet hair back and pulling water from your face. He knows that look - the one that has your lips splitting at the edges from excitement. Laughter pulling from nerves that you're still riding the tail end of.

"I knew this was a good idea!" your sniffly laugh muffles to him, Leona's body trying to register when you went from the ledge to wrapped around him like a koala. Legs wrapped around his waist, floating on nothing under the waves. Arms thrust around his shoulders tight, chest pressed against his to here he feels how fast your little heart thrums -

His hands, the split moment instinctive, around your waist. Bare, naked palms, pressed fully against flesh smooth like porcaline.

Zing.

"You idiot!" He yells, fingers tightening as he leans back to look over your body head to toe. Anxiety dripping from him like the falls themselves.

"Don't just grab someone in the water! Why're you always so reckless?!"

Don't grab me so easily!

You did it so easy, with that flushed candor that had him questioning everything - did the thing he'd been fighting for so long.

"I thought you said I'd be fine! Don't change your tune now!" you yell back, laughing.

It's not the water you should be scared of -

"You almost made us both drown," Leona huffed, rolling his eyes. He gave your waist a tentative squeeze, needed confirmation that this wasn't something he'd wake from wrestling his sheets.

"Then we drown," you lean forward, that impish glint softening as your nose brushes against his, "right?"

As his palms - naked and bandaged under wet moonlight - work their path to pull you in closer, he feels your legs wrap tighter. The way you allow his arms to circle and support you, unafraid. "Right."

Rice. Oats. Bananas. Tomatoes. Beef -

No. Scratch that. Ruggie wasn't in the mood to barter through the main market tonight. He'd go in the morning, clutching the marks brough back from school, slip in when it's just as packed, but his mind will be clearer then. He'll stop by one of his old spots on the way, check in on the kids and make sure they weren't doing anything too bad while their parents worked their tails off.

Right now he'll take the backroads towards home - Gran was waiting for him anyways. Probably sitting on the same chair she always did on the front porch, watching the street with one eye open and the other stuck on their 'houseguest' - as if they were fit to 'host' anyone - until he came back with the week's groceries.

He didn't want to bring you back with him to the slums - but where else could you go? No one. Not a single person or beast, was supposed to ever cross his path outside of Night Raven. Not if it didn't fill his pockets.

As he crosses the threshold pass what could barely be considered a kids' playground, his mind can't fathom what would make you even the slightest interested to come to this run-down village. There were surely other offers to fill your summer break. Your little beastly buddy - or money leech - was shacking up with those first years in the Rose Kingdom. You could've gone with them, and he wouldn't have thought on it twice.

Offering you a place was more of an obligation, something to wipe his conscience clean. Not because he was your 'boyfriend' - did he really count as one? Nothing good lasts forever - but for his piece of mind.

Since bringing you to this place was like cutting a ticking timer in half. Ruggie couldn't admit it to himself, but he knew. He needed you to come here. He needed you to see what you were walking into with that blindsided ignorance that trailed off the bare scraps Crowley had given you at NRC.

'Cause if Ramshackle was considered a shack? Then his home surely looked like a dumpster on the side of a highway. This is what you were signing up for once that four-year drift at NRC was done.

You, who he sat down just that morning to ream in the dangers. Not to go out without him as a no-name in a community where everyone's either known or dead. You, who kept your coin purse - even if the damn thing was near empty - in a side bag with easy access to snatch. You, who stood shellshocked when faced with his Gran's appraisal. Introduced yourself as his without a shred of hesitation. As if he had the means to keep you.

You, who carefully set your bag down in the tiny five by five he called a bedroom and said it smelled like him. Gran passed him the shopping list shortly after, and Ruggie left you there to face her alone. His steps quick towards the market, but not in a hurry since it was only a matter of time.

When he turns down his nook of a street - just as predicted, Gran's out on her chair waiting for him to come back. He's ready for an earful. Ready to pull the return bus-ticket out of his wallet and say goodbye. "Rugs, come an' see what this one can do with the corn husks. Nearly split my ribs!" Gran calls just as his foot pivots off the gravel road. And at her side - you're aiming one of his old slingshots at him like a cheeky thug. Cornhusks rolled up tight to make mini pellets - strong enough to bruise he's sure.

"Ruggie! Your grandma's gonna teach me how to shoot!"

A shiver runs down his spine.

"Aye - kid. Gotta have someone making sure my boy stays sharp at that fancy school."

Zing?

"I'm not going to kick you out of your own bed."

"It's not kickin' if I'm offering it."

"Ruggie - the floor is cold. Literally. It's stone."

"Actually it's clay - and do you even hear yourself? Gran'll kick my ass three cities if I let ya sleep on the floor -"

The two's poorly-hidden fight was cut short by an even more stubborn shout.

"LIGHTS OUT NOW! OR IM KICKING BOTH YER ASSES!"

The house grew cold quick - Savannah nights being unforgiving. If there was one thing Gran made sure they had growing up, it was blankets and firewood since central heat wasn't in the budget.

Ruggie wanted reality to bite you in the butt, not for it to hurt. He'd slept on wet mud once, the floor wasn't the worst option. His bed was old and small - a twin where on the left side there was a poking spring he'd learned to avoid in his sleep. He expected you to take it without second thought. But you were stubborn. Annoying with it, and he knew better than to fight one stubborn mule when another was one room over with thin walls daring to push him out on the streets. He crawled into bed with you, kept one of the many blankets and tucked his tail down, tried to make himself small. Pressed up against the wall on the left side. Hoped you'd keep to the right so he could smolder this feeling in his stomach. You hadn't. Ruggie woke up to sunshine and his face pressed in fabric that moved with even breaths. His back no longer against the wall, no crick in his side, his body pulled over another.

Up and down. In and out.

He looked up, chin careful not to press painfully into your stomach (a better pillow than his flattened one for certain) and saw closed eyes. Warm arms encircled him - ensnared him - and he stole one moment to revel in their protective cradle. His head lolling back down to nuzzle in this soft pillow.

You slept warm through the night, as had he.

Zing.

"Ruggie?" your steps trail his heels, hand locked tight in his own down the market road. Whatever change was left over from the errand sat in his wallet, strapped tight to his hip under his shirt. His free arm clutched a tight meat parcel - the beef he'd missed the night before. It was like a calling card for theft. Not too bad, he knew to keep one eye alert.

At least without you there, twisting over your shoulder as he tugged forward. Your furrowed brow drawn to the pack of hollering beastmen, all hostile for a good bargain to feed their hungry families. Some with sticky fingers and other means.

He was one of them just minutes ago. You, stuck tight to his side and wary under the scorn of locals. An outsider, with only Bucchi presence keeping those teeth sheathed. At least he meant something around these parts - or his Gran did. "Don't look back. Any mercy and they'll eat you alive," he said low into your ear, "there might not be anything in your wallet - but that doesn't stop the desperate ones. You've got clothes. Possible connections. Organs."

What should have been a joke, wasn't. His firm glance said as much.

Ruggie doesn't miss how your fingers clutch his tighter. "I told ya to stay back with Gran. Better yet - stay home the whole break," your jaw ticks, even he feels bad asking the necessary, "look - I'll phone Leona. Might have to go out for better reception but -"

"No," you cut him off, keeping your voice down but his ears could catch anything, "No. I want to be here. I - this is where you're from. I don't want to hide inside all summer, but please don't send me away."

Ruggie clamps his mouth shut, frown set in a thin line until you both pass yet another beggar. Their eyes hateful and distrusting to someone unknown, even when desperate.

He turns to shield you from it - insist. Except you tug him along, pulling him closer. You nod towards the beggar, acknowledging them but not stopping.

Zing

"It's got ya good, huh?" Gran said, hovering in the doorframe with the house laundry basket on her hip. Summer was nearly ending. You'd gone off to nap in his room - the heat did harsh things this time of year. He was just grateful it wasn't a stroke and you'd be fine in a night or so. Gran said as much, and there weren't any doctors in the area. He didn't have to ask what she was talking about. Rule number one in life: don't look out for anyone but your own.

And they way he was hounding you like a mad hyena earlier? The way your clammy skin felt under his palms, the panic in his voice when Gran ran to get water and fruits to get your sugar back up. He freaked out. He shouldn't have but he did.

"Yeah. If you're gonna lecture me about bearing my heart and that sentimental stuff - could you save it? Just...just this once?" he rarely stood up to her but this felt more like a plea.

She, of course, sat in her chair. Even pulled the thing up to where he sulked.

"The only thing I'm going to lecture you for is fighting. Sabotage is something ya do to other folks, not yourself."

"I'm clearly not doing a good job if...y'know," he sighed, flicking his ears back. Maybe then the world would shut up for once.

"Yeah...I know kiddo" Gran paused, looking him up and down like he was some sort of stranger she hadn't crossed before. She set her hand between his ears, giving his hair a good tussle, "but you're a good man. I raised ya into one, so I'd know -- you're not your father, Ruggie. I thought that fancy school might've softened you. I was right, you're definitely not the kid I sent off itching to make up for years lost 'ere. You're better, and that one in there's good for you. So maybe be grateful the world cut ya a break for once, and be happy."

Maybe she was right. Maybe he could stop ignoring that feeling. Maybe, he could do what he does best, and take you. Keep you. Since you were so hell bent on being had.

Zing.

In. Out. One. Two. In. Out. One. Two.

Jack's steps are even and uniform. His form perfect, unwavering even at the strongest gust of wind aimed to topple him. There was no force in the entire world that would set him off the track - his training too important if he ever wanted to get a scholarship in his fourth year.

Winter. Rain. Snow. Sun. Jack ends his day with a run. His lungs thank him for it as does his mind. The exertion is just enough to ensure a peaceful night of sleep feeling accomplished. His chest chills with cold air as the final lap for the night draws closed, and he slows to his cool down. A time meant for his mind to relax as he walks the circuit in it's full, listening to the trees and whatever delinquent is out trying to sneak past the campus security for a night of fun.

He won't rat them out. Not his circus, not his monkeys. Lady justice will come to draw her own conclusions - and by lady justice, he means the Heartslabyul House-warden that strikes fear into students from all dorms looking to cheat the system.

Jack himself was the slightest fearful of Riddle.

"Heya hiya hey -"

On predictable cue there's a filled water-jug in his face. Lukewarm, the ice he'd received the first time you offered it upset his stomach and you never gave it again. He takes the bottle with nothing more than a nod of gratitude, slumping on the lowest bleacher to finish his wind down. A moment later and a clean towel drapes over his shoulder. He nods again, and you return to your musings like nothing happened.

Jack can't remember when you started coming around - or why, for that matter.

Nestled into one of the low corners in the bleachers, legs curled under a blanket with your thermos in hand. One he loaned and never asked back - it's not like he was using it. Seeing you warmed on cold nights gave it a higher purpose than his gritty protein shakes.

Your focused mind lingered in the corner of his peripheral vision at all times - like an eye floater that never goes away. Haunting the same spot every night with your homework scattered about, busying yourself with whatever's there until he pulls up to unwind from his training.

When did he grow used to it? To where he can grunt and you'll know exactly what it means - be it a thanks, a question, or if he's needing silence to end the night.

Jack can't recall.

He's encouraged others to adopt a routine like his, but never pushed. Even then it was never like this. With the intent to weave his regimen together with another's.

So what's Jack to do with someone who's willingly engrained themselves into his life?

What's he to do, when the comfort of solitude has stretched beyond him?

"Hungry?" your voice flit to his ear one night, he utterance a break through dusk and his even breathing.

"I don't eat after six," Jack answered blunt, hoping it was enough and not thinking. Your lips purse to a pensive frown and his attention turns to the box in your lap. Its green his favorite - not that you'd know. The color of ripe cacti.

"Uh.." he catches his own tongue before words come out. He didn't mean to cause that expression. Letting the lip of his water bottle down, Jack decides to press a bit more.

"Nice box - I mean, what's in the box?" he asked, trying and failing to make his tone softer than the evening's bite. His cheeks warming.

What hesitance he held disappeared when you smiled, uncurving around the box to open the lid.

"I made some finger sandwiches," you tut, struggling with one of the latches before he reaches out. The instinct to assist beats his shyness.

You hand the box over.

"Sorry if they're a bit rough - I asked Deuce about what's good for people building muscle. He said protein so...egg salad?"

Jack has to resist the urge to laugh - of course Deuce would suggest egg salad. He raves about their protein benefit at least once a track meet.

They're a bit rough - the tight packaging ruined their presentation from singular little bites to one solid brick.

Nonetheless, Jack felt something stir in his stomach.

"Actually," he starts, whacking the box's bottom to pull the now-brick out, "I think I could eat. You want to split?"

For reasons he couldn't place at the time - or ones he didn't want to - Jack couldn't bring himself to hand back the cacti-green box without emptying it. Your hard work worth sacrificing one day's regimen.

When he held out the sandwich amalgamation, you reached out in kind to take the opposite side. With a little pressure, it gave and split in two.

In that moment, so did Jack.

Jack's palms slid under your legs with ease - almost like they belonged there. With the underside of your thighs in each hand, your body draped over his back like a pillow-weight, he realized how easy it could be to hurt you. All he needs to do is squeeze too hard, stumble over a rock and tumble the wrong way. His weight could crush you or the concrete could scrape your skin.

Maybe that would toughen you up a bit - no student at NRC shouldn't be able to take a it. He's sure you could - if there's one thing he learned from Epel, it's that those you assume can't are the ones who can take the most.

"You don't have to carry me like a sack of potatoes, y'know that. Right?" your voice tickles his ear, one flicking back just as your chin comes to settle between his neck and shoulder.

"It's good training," he argued, tone anything but argument-worthy, "and I want to."

Maybe adding that second part was too much. Why did he?

He'd beat himself with his own tail if it could move that way.

"It's a good thing I'm actually very lazy then. Since the track's no short distance from Ramshackle. You Savanaclaw guys really do monopolize the sports here, don't ya?"

His grunt's a suitable reply - one you're used to. As Jack crosses the mirror chamber from Savanaclaw to main campus, he jostles you up just to make sure you're still there once the magic fizzles out.

Your breath on his shoulder, weight holding down to earth - would he fly if you took it away? After all these days.

"Wouldn't it be easier to just study at home? The track ain't a suitable library"

And I'm not suitable company.

Not someone you have to trouble yourself to watch over.

"True," your hum drawls in his ear, exhausted he's sure. Your plate isn't necessarily empty, "but you're there. What, scared I'll leave you lonely?"

Yes.

"No. I just think you're exerting yourself too much." he says, scrunching his nose when your fingers ghost the apex of his collar.

"A bit of exertion is good. You're the known preacher for it," Jack feels your smile in his skin. It almost brings his own to life, "and if we're being honest? This is the best part of my day. I love spending time with you, even if I end up being your makeshift barbell."

Your laugh trailed the ends of that sentence, sweeter than the pears picked back home, which were always ripest this time of year when he thought on it.

Zing.

The rest of his 'prefect-delivery-service' as you laughed on and on about into him, was finished in silence. Comfortable silence.

And when he came to your dorm, he needn't ask if you wanted to be put down. Jack opened the door without a word and settled you upstairs in your bed. Grim didn't stir. The ghosts hadn't blocked his path. You let him be the end of your day, and he hadn't felt the need to explain himself even as he crossed back into Savanaclaw territory.

I need. Twisted Beastmen and the like. To be more animalistic. Not necessarily like, physically, I don't meant that in the furry sense. I mean that in the 'they're part animal and it'd not just for show' sense.

I want beastmen with claw like nails. Where the cat-like ones tend to walk on their toes when not wearing shoes because it feels right. Where their eyes and pupils reflect the animals that they're partly of. With fangs and teeth appropriate for their species.

Ruggie making laughing noises at the active prospect of food. Whooping when in a fight and needing backup. Lowing when excited for a fight.

Leona roaring to get the whole dorm's attention. Chuffing in greeting at people he considers part of his pride. (He'll sometimes grunt at Cheka like a mother would to her cubs but will deny it.)

Jack barking at danger to warn others and howling to try and figure out where his pack is (he forgets they can't howl back, but Ruggie will sometimes low at him and Yuu definitely tries to howl back.)

I want to see Azul with the tips of his limbs in human form retain some of his octopus natural ability to camouflage. I want to see his hands always moving, grabbing something, holding something. Azul who might not have bones in human form with how flexible he is??

The tweels who aren't very active naturally during the day but get really hyperactive at night. Who bare their teeth at people when excited.

Che'nya who lounges in the sun on lazy days. Who's great at stretching and popping everywhere in his body if he needs to, to a concerning degree.

GIMME FEY WHO DONT ACT HUMAN

Malleus who snorts smoke when he's angry. Malleus who wear gloves because he got claws. Malleus who has a tail and wings outside of his dragon form sometimes.

Lilia who gets just a bit too excited at the prospect of a fight and spilling blood. Who can recognize a person by the smell of their blood. Who makes inhuman noises when too excited and gives off a very eldritch horror kind of vibe if he lets loose.

Sebek who can be found eating rocks sometimes. Who finds quiet in thunder and lightning. Who can move so smoothly and silently you don't know he's there until he opens his maw. Who has a lot of really sharp teeth for someone with a human mouth.

Just- gimme some animal, like, REALISM. PLEASE.

Confessions

Characters: All NRC students

Summary: How the TWST boys confess to you

Riddle Rosehearts:

Riddle waits for a few months to confess. He needs to know that what he feels is real. He doesn’t want to confess and then realize that it wasn’t a crush. When he is certain that he likes you, he’s going to do his best. He takes you for a walk through the Heartslabyul rose garden. He then leads you to a tea party he set up for you two. And then, he tells you that he likes you and would like to be your boyfriend. And at the end, he walks you back to your dorm and gives you a bouquet of roses and then leaves.

Trey Clover:

He also waits a few months. He confesses earlier than Riddle though. When he does confess, he does it with a pastry. He knocks on the door to your dorm with a strawberry tart. He offers it to you and tells you how he feels. And when you tell him you feel the same, he starts discussing plans for your first date.

Cater Diamond:

He also waits a few months. But for him, it’s more because he’s scared of rejection. Before he confesses, he texts asking if you like anyone or have a partner. And when you tell him no, he’s relieved. He shows up to your dorm with a bouquet of flowers, chocolates, and a stuffed animal. He holds it out to you and tells you how he feels about you. And he’s ecstatic when you claim to feel the same.

Deuce Spade:

He waits a few weeks before confessing. He spends that time planning the confession and asking for advice and help. He has everything planned out perfectly. First, he takes on a walk through the rose garden and on this walk he confesses his feelings. And when you say you feel the same, he sighs in relief. He then guides you to a table that has a small dinner set up on it. And if you hear romantic music coming from the bushes, no you didn’t (Ace is trying to help).

Ace Trappola:

He confesses pretty quickly. For a while, he doesn’t realize that he likes you. It just hits him and he decides to confess. You and him are chilling in his dorm room. He glances over at you and realizes he likes you. And then he just says it. The words tumble out with such ease, like he practiced it. And then you confess as well, and he scoots over to wrap his arms around you.

Leona Kingscholar:

To him, confessions are a hassle. He just confesses when he feels like it and he doesn’t have it planned out at all. You find him in the botanical gardens and start talking to him. And he just tells you how he feels. It was out of nowhere. But it was a very Leona way to confess. And when you confess back to him, he pulls you to lay down next to him, his hand intertwined with yours.

Ruggie Bucchi:

He doesn’t plan on confessing to you. Not with words, at least. He does the approach-avoid tactic (Like all hyenas). He’ll approach you, step back a bit, approach again, step back and so on. And if you decide to mimic him, even if it’s just for fun, he’ll accept it as reciprocation. And from there, he just assumes you two are dating.

Jack Howl:

When he realizes he likes you, he starts preparing the perfect confession. First off, he starts hanging around you more, touching you, offering his jacket to you, etc. He does this so that his scent rubs off on you. He assumes you know, if he knew you didn’t, he wouldn’t have done it. But then he shows up to your dorm with a stuffed animal, chocolates and a letter. He gives them to you and stands there waiting for you to read the letter. And you say you feel the same, his tail starts wagging a mile a minute.

Azul Ashengrotto:

He doesn’t. He doesn’t confess. Not under any circumstances. He’s too scared of rejection. However, you find out. Because Jade and Floyd seem to have noticed that Azul has a little crush on you. Floyd immediately tells you how Azul feels and Jade confirms what he says. And so, you head to Azul’s office to tell him that you feel the same. And once you do, he freezes in place. Give him a second, he needs time to process.

Jade Leech:

He, like Ruggie, doesn’t confess. He just starts giving you gifts. Shiny rocks, pretty flowers, poisonous mushrooms. And if you gift him things as well for whatever reason, he takes it as a sign of reciprocation. Just by giving him a pebble, you have shown him that you like him too. From then on, you two are now dating and he couldn’t be happier.

Floyd Leech:

He doesn’t waste a second. The moment he realizes he likes you, he’s going to confess. Like everything Floyd does, his confession is spontaneous. You could be walking to class, and Floyd just shows up and tells you that he loves you. No matter where you are or what you’re doing, he’s going to show up to tell you how he feels. And he’ll squeeze you until you tell him that you feel the same.

Kalim Al-Asim:

He’s going to confess the moment he realizes he likes you more than a friend. You and him are doing anything together and he realizes he cares for you more than anyone else. And he just tells you. He looks up at you with a smile, hoping to get the reciprocation he really wants. And when he does, he asks what ideas you have for the wedding.

Jamil Viper:

He’s very hesitant to confess to you. He has a lot of baggage and he doesn’t want you to have to deal with that. But eventually, he decides to go ahead and do it. He shows up to your dorm with food that he made and asks to talk. He’ll confess but also tell you that he has a lot of baggage. And if you tell him you like him too, he’ll be over the moon. But if you reject him, he’ll understand (But still be sad).

Vil Schoenheit:

He’s going to wait a few weeks before confessing. He’s going to plan out the perfect way to confess to you. He’s going to invite you to dinner in Pomefiore and tell you how he feels at the beginning of the dinner. And he’ll make sure you enjoy the dinner. Congrats, you now have a super model boyfriend.

Rook Hunt:

He’s going to confess after a few days. He’ll intercept you on your walk to class and pull out a bouquet. He’ll get down on one knee, present the bouquet to you, and give a lengthy, romantic confession. And when you tell him you feel the same he lights up and jumps up to hug you.

Epel Felmier:

He waits for the next Spelldrive game. He invites you to watch and makes sure that looks extra cool that day. He also makes sure his team wins that day. He’s already super competitive, but that’s been doubled now. After the game, he asks you out and makes sure it’s the best date ever.

Idia Shroud:

He doesn’t. He refuses to confess to you. He can barely talk to you, how is he expected to ask you on a date? Ortho does it for him. He tells you how Idia feels and then tells Idia that you feel the same. Idia is very reluctant to go on a date with you. But Ortho simply invites to his dorm (much to Idia’s dismay). He’s tired of his brother being a single loser.

Malleus Draconia:

He doesn’t tell you for a while. The moment he meets you, he senses some sort of connection. Like an invisible string connecting you two, but he doesn’t know why. Then Lilia tells him something about a ‘red string’. After that, he immediately runs off to find you and tell you how he feels. He’s very forward and just tells you that you’re his soulmate. You can’t say no. You’re meant to be.

Lilia Vanrouge:

Lilia realizes he likes you a few months after meeting you and doesn’t waste any time. He decides that the perfect way to woo you is to scare you any chance he gets. After realizing that it’s not working, he’ll drop it and just tell you how he feels… With a song.

Silver Vanrouge:

Silver doesn’t realize he likes you for a while. Almost a month. It’s only when Sebek mentions how much he’s been around you that Silver realizes how he feels. He makes sure to set up a nice little picnic in the woods behind campus with his animal friends. He leads you there and tells you how he feels. And by the end of the picnic, you’re left with an unconscious Silver surrounded by animals.

Sebek Zigvolt:

Sebek doesn’t realize and doesn’t confess. Anytime someone brings up a hint at his feelings, he comes up with an excuse for it. Eventually all the first years get fed up with it and just tell you for him. You have to make the first move or you two will never get together.

Dorm Leaders with a Crush That Acts Drunk When Tired

Characters: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus, Rollo

Genre: fluff, crack

keep thinking about baby malleus reveal,,, sof, ,,

THIS NPC I'VE NEVER MET JUST STARTED INSULTING MY OUTFIT???

I made Pome portraits in Stardew Valley style and I'm crying.

True Feelings Chocolate - OB Students

SUMMARY: It is normal on Valentine's Day for friends or schoolmates to exchange chocolates with each other. However, the quality of the chocolate reveals how the person really sees you. And homemade chocolate is the greatest message of love that someone can receive on this day.

CHARACTERS: Overblot Students (Riddle Rosehearts / Leona Kingscholar / Azul Ashengrotto / Jamil Viper / Vil Schoenheit / Idia Shroud / Malleus Draconia) x Yuu (Reader)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader; Kiss

WORD COUNT: An average of 1.280 words per character.

COMMENTS: The number of words varies depending on how much the character is the type to hide his true feelings.

I also would like to be able to write more eloquent lines for characters like Malleus, but as English is not my first language this becomes a bit difficult sometimes.

I hope you enjoy and Happy Valentine's Day 💝

True Feelings Chocolate - Freshmen (Ace Trappola / Deuce Spade / Jack Howl / Epel Felmier / Sebek Zigvolt) x Yuu (Reader)

REAL WORLD CONTEXT: You may already know this, but Valentine's Day in Japan is different than in Western countries. In Japan (from what I know and have researched) this day is not exclusively related to romantic love but also to friendship or simple connections between schoolmates or work colleagues.

Just like in the West, it is marked by the gifting of chocolate, but the quality of the chocolate differs: If it's a boss or colleague you're not friends with, they're usually cheaper, more common chocolates. The quality and even price of the chocolate increases according to the relationship with the person to whom it is offered. And a chocolate made by the person themselves is the most valuable of all and is usually, from what I understand, almost like a confession of love.

On Valentine's Day, it is women who offer chocolates to men, but in this case I just kept the logic of chocolates and excluded the gender thing.

Another thing is that since it is normal to give chocolates to friends as well, it becomes more discreet to give more special chocolates to a certain person and it doesn't draw attention to simply give chocolate to someone.

NOTE: Thaumarks would be the equivalent of US dollars.

The rules are clear: the quality of the chocolate represents the quality and importance of the relationship between the giver and the person to whom it is given. And a chocolate made by the giver is the most valuable of all. Which meant he could buy chocolates for his schoolmates, but not for you!

According to the rules and analyzing what he felt for you, your chocolate MUST be made by him and it had to be perfect! Or as close to perfection as he could get.

He has no shame, nor does he think twice before asking Trey for help. He had that smile of someone who wants to mess with him a little the entire time, but knows that wouldn't be a good idea... Okay, maybe just a little comment to see how he would react.

“So... homemade chocolate for (Y/N).” He said as they waited for the chocolate to melt and Riddle prepared the molds.

Riddle continued with what he was doing, but he had blushed a little.

“Those are the rules.” he replies. "The quality of the chocolate should represent how the giver sees the person to whom it is given.”

“I know. I just never thought I'd see you making this kind of chocolate so soon.”

Riddle did not respond, probably because he thought the same thing.

What Riddle didn't know, because it was supposed to be a surprise too, was that you were also making chocolates for him. You made chocolate dipped strawberries. Knowing that Strawberry Tarts are his favorite food, this seemed like the best choice for Valentine's Day chocolates. Once they were ready, you placed them in a red box that you had bought at Sam's Mystery Shop and finished by tying the box with a bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you are preparing the boxes of chocolates to give to the Heartslabyul boys when there is a knock on your door. You open it and find Riddle with his hands behind his back.

“Good morning, (Y/N). I believe you know what day it is today.”

You confirm and say that you were just preparing the chocolates to take to his dorm.

“Oh, that's a coincidence. Because I came here to offer you mine too.” He takes his hand from behind his back revealing a beautiful heart-shaped box with golden designs. “And...” in the other, a small bouquet of roses. He's blushing just a little bit

You take the box and the bouquet, and Riddle smiles when he sees your reaction. But before you open it, you remember and go to the bag where your chocolates were and take out his box and offer it to him. He wasn't surprised that you gave him chocolates, but he was a little when he saw that the box wasn't from any brand. You also take the opportunity to place the roses on the entrance table so you can open the box.

When you take the lid off you see several heart shaped chocolates with your favorite toppings, however, some of the hearts were a little bit crooked and some of the designs on the hearts seemed to have gone slightly wrong. You ask if he made them, unable to contain a small chuckle.

“Y-yes.” he sulks a little seeing you laugh. “I picked the ones that looked best... the first ones burned.”

You taste one of them and feel your favorite filling on your tongue. You say it's very good and Riddle can't contain that sweet smile of his.

“Truly? I... I am so glad!”

And then he remembers the box you gave him. He opens it and sees the chocolate covered strawberries. You say that since he liked strawberry tart so much you thought he would like them. He looks at the strawberries with a sparkle in his eyes, picks one up and tastes it before giving you a cute smile again.

“It's incredible how something so simple can taste so good.” he tells you “So... were they made by you too?” You confirm, but then he asks: “You... did you also make chocolates for the others?” he seemed ashamed to ask that.

You say no, that those were the only ones you made, all the others were bought.

“Really?!” he says smiling, but then immediately clears his throat to assume his usual posture again.

However, he realized what it means, that you felt the same way about him as he felt about you, and it made him chuckle. He holds your free hand, while the other still holds the box of chocolates, gets closer to you and kisses your cheek gently.

“You said you were preparing to go to Heartslabyul.” He tells you with a tender look, as if he can finally look at you the way he wants and you deserve. “Allow me to escort you there then. And I insist on helping you carry the boxes.”

He will take you to Heartslabyul with your arm intertwined with his like a gentleman, while his other arm carries the bag with the chocolates that you will offer to your friends.

Ace and Deuce will argue and compete because they both bought you the exact same box of chocolates that were your favorite. Cater bought you the cutest chocolates he could find and wanted to take a picture of the two boxes together, the one you gave him and the one he gave you. Trey says he wished he had made the chocolates himself but, you know, rules and possible misunderstandings to be avoided, so he ended up buying some chocolates that he also liked as a sort of sharing of favorites.

Regardless of whether you would get chocolates back or not, you bought chocolates for Jack and Ruggie, and you wanted to follow the "rules" and make the chocolates for Leona yourself. But what chocolate would he like? He loves meat, but this doesn't help much. Or maybe it does... you search on the internet for chocolates for meat lovers and see what you can find.

But you didn't find anything, or at least nothing that didn't also involve wine. However, you noticed that dark chocolate was the most used, if not the only one, so you decided to use it and make the famous, perhaps even cliché, heart-shaped chocolates. Once they're done, you put them in the yellow box you bought at the Mystery Shop.

On Valentine's Day, you prepare everything to go deliver the chocolates to Savanaclaw.

Of course Jack also bought you chocolates, your favorite ones by the way. He struggled to keep his tail still when he saw how happy you were and the chocolates you gave him.

Ruggie seemed... struggling to give you the chocolates he had bought for you. He would have liked to have bought the cheaper chocolate, but he didn't want to give you a chocolate that meant you were nothing to him. So he had to spend a little more money and that was what was hurting him. However, his pain was eased by your chocolates.

Leona wasn't with them, so he could only be in his room. You go there and knock on the door.

“What?” You hear Leona's voice on the other side.

You open the door and enter his room. It's no surprise to see him lying in bed as if he had just woken up from a nap. He looks at you with his hands behind his head and smirks.

“Oh, yeah, did you come here to deliver your friendship sweets?” he says mockingly.

“Actually, yes.” you answer, walk towards him and stretch out your arm, handing him the yellow box. “This one is for you.”

He glances sideways at the box for a second, but then lifts his torso and sits up on the bed. He picks up the box and opens it to find dark chocolate hearts. You tell him that you tried to find some kind of recipe with meat but didn't find much. However it seemed like dark chocolate was the best one to pair with meat so that's why you chose it.

“So, you're saying that you did these little things?” Leona picks up one of the chocolates with a smug grin on his face. “Let's see how you did then. I must remind you that my palate is quite delicate.” He takes a bite and seems to enjoy the chocolate, but doesn't say anything.

Instead, he puts the box on the bed, gets up and seems to walk away from you. But then you notice that he's walking over to a chair in the corner of the room covered in clothes. He lazily removes one of the pieces of clothing from the seat and reaches for the white box that was hidden underneath. He comes back and hands you the box.

“Good enough. Here's your prize.”

You take the box and look at it. It’s white with gold details, texture and embossing. It's also relatively heavy for a box of chocolate, and thick. You don't even recognize that brand. Leona laugh at your reaction.

“You've definitely never seen one of these.”

You can't open the box with only one hand, you had to put it on Leona's bed to be able to open it with both hands. He complained like you expected him to, but then he just sat there watching you open the box and see what was inside, while eating more of your chocolates like they were snacks.

You open it, and inside the white box there is a wooden box. You remove the wooden box and see another wooden thing, like a square plate, with a kind of small wooden tongs. Leona is amused by your reaction. You took this out of the white box too, underneath is a booklet, and underneath that, there's a brochure. And after that there finally seems to be nothing left to take out.

“If you're wondering which one is the chocolate, it's the wooden box.” He points to the first thing you took out of the box and take another chocolate of yours to eat.

You pick up the wooden box with a little golden square on the lid and opens it. You pick up a large square wrapped in gold paper. At the bottom of the box, in a smaller diamond-shaped hole with a single cocoa bean.

“That is chocolate.” Leona casually pointed to the large square wrapped in gold paper.

You decide to see what that wooden thing with the tongs was before that. You pick it up, take the tongs off the top and remove the paper it was holding, revealing a gold square with engravings and what looks like a wooden frame around it. You read the title on the sheet of paper: “Testing utensil and plate.” And realizes that these are basically instructions on how to taste the chocolate using tongs and putting it on the golden plate.

You finally decide to search for those chocolates on the internet and you only had to type the name of the brand to see that the first result was: ‘The most expensive chocolate in Twisted Wonderland’. You found that same box and discovered that it cost almost 500 thaumarks. Leona just laughs at your shocked face.

Before you could say anything, maybe even say that you couldn't accept a chocolate like that, Leona takes the golden square and unwraps it, revealing the chocolate, which by the color seems to be your favorite. He breaks one of the triangles that formed the square and places it in front of your lips.

“Go on.” He smirks. “Open your mouth and say what you wanted to say.”

You open your mouth, but instead of talking you take a bite of the chocolate, as he wanted you to do. And it's incredible! He puts the rest of that piece of chocolate on top of the golden plate.

Knowing that the handmade chocolates were an “I love you” message, Leona felt completely confident in doing what he did next. As you were standing, he also stood up, put one of his hands on your waist and pulled you against him to kiss you.

You already kind of knew that it was possible to receive some kind of chocolate from Azul. This tradition can also be seen as a way of strengthening ties or showing respect for colleagues. He would not miss the opportunity to be “generous” to certain people whom he may or may not have selected as people of interest.

But no matter what kind of chocolate he would give you, you wanted to follow the rules and make yourself his chocolate.

You weren't sure which type of chocolate he would like best, so you decided to make a few of each, some dark chocolate, some milk chocolate, and some white chocolate. ‘By chance’, Sam had some molds for sale that you could use to make chocolates in sea-themed shapes like shells, seahorses, starfish, crabs, etc. One of the molds was even of a cute little octopus. You also bought a beautiful lavender box to put the chocolates in.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you were preparing the chocolates to give to the Octavinelle boys when someone knocked on your door.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Azul greets you with his charming smile and his hands behind his back. “Were you getting ready to go out? I hope I'm not taking up too much of your time. I'm sure you have a lot of chocolates to deliver today, knowing how many acquaintances you've made at this school. But let me be the first to present you.” He takes his hands from behind his back revealing a beautiful lavender box with the Mostro Lounge logo in silver.

He must have prepared several boxes of that for his... acquaintances (clients) as well. But you accept the box anyway and take the opportunity to give him yours. Azul doesn't seem too surprised that you give him chocolates too, but he is when he sees that there is no brand on the box. You open your boxes at the same time to see... the same chocolates, the exact same shapes.

“Have you also-” You two start saying at the same time and then stop when you realize you're talking over each other.

“The molds in Sam's mystery shop.” Azul continued with a sweet tone. “You bought them too. So... that means...”

“These chocolates.” You say. “Were they made by you?”

“Yes, they were!” He smiles proudly. “Please, go ahead to taste them. Tell me what you think.”

You can see he used your favorite type of chocolate. You pick up one of the chocolates, take a bite and discover that it has your favorite filling. He can see that you loved it by your face, but he wants to hear your words and you only increase his pride with them.

You then ask him to try your chocolates. You confess that you didn't really know which one would be his favorite so you made some of each type. This makes him chuckle.

“Don't worry, they all look delicious. Let's see if the same applies to the taste, shall we?” He smirks before taking one of the chocolates to his mouth and biting into it.

He looked surprisingly intrigued and you didn't know what that meant. So you ask him if there's something wrong with the chocolates.

“No, that's not it. Your chocolates are very simple, without any special filling or anything that improves the original flavor of the ready-made chocolate. So why...? Why does it taste so good if it's nothing special? Did you use something that my taste buds aren't detecting?”

It was wierd, Azul almost seemed insulted, like you were tricking him somehow. Or like he wanted to figure out the logical explanation for that flavor. You say you only followed a recipe and seeing that he seemed dissatisfied with this explanation you say that people say that something made with love tastes better.

“Don't be ridiculous." He says despite starting to blush a little. “Feelings do not change a well-made recipe or a cook's skills. It might make them lazier and less willing to do things properly." he says, clearly thinking of a certain someone. "But it doesn't suddenly make someone an extraordinary cook. That's not how it works. It doesn't make sense."

And then his subtle indignation gives way to a quite seductive smile.

“Maybe I should see how you do them to find out your secret. And in return, I can teach you how to make the fillings and stuff them. What do you think? Cooking together and teaching each other.” He gets closer to you and tilts your head with a gentle finger on your chin. “Doesn't that sound like a good deal, my dear?”

After this you tell him that you were preparing to go to Octavinelle to offer him, Jade and Floyd the chocolates. There was still the boxes to be delivered to the twins.

“Oh, I wonder what you got for them.”

You say that for Jade you found some mushroom-shaped chocolates and for Floyd you bought some that said they all had different flavors but didn't say which ones, you realized that it was one of those sweets that you only find out if you were lucky or not with the flavor after tasting it.

Azul's mood seemed to improve when you said you had bought the chocolates and not made them. He also highlighted your excellent ability to choose gifts and added that you could be an excellent... business colleague. He liked the idea of a special personal assistant. He will accompany you to Octavinelle and insist on carrying him your gifts.

Jade loved the chocolates you chose for him, although it's hard to be sure even with all those smooth talking praises. For you, he asked his parents to send him some special Coral Sea chocolates. Azul asks you to examine that box and doesn't even hide his distrust towards Jade, who appears theatrically sad. He recognizes those chocolates with the box still sealed and knows that there is nothing wrong with those, so he returns them to you with more peace of mind.

Floyd was a little put off at first because the chocolates looked boring, but he soon became interested when you told him about the surprise flavors. He tried one that he said tasted like octopus and started laughing with great amusement. For you he bought shrimp-shaped chocolates and commented something about finding it funny to see it as a kind of cannibalism.

Kalim would definitely give you chocolates, but you had no way of knowing if Jamil would do the same. You already know how reluctant he is to call someone a friend, let alone give someone chocolates, that is not out of pure politeness, on a day like Valentine's. But either way you wanted to follow the rules and offer him chocolates made by you.

You weren't sure which type of chocolate he would like best, so you decided to make a few of each, some dark chocolate, some milk chocolate, and some white chocolate. But you didn't want to make just boring chocolate hearts. However, you didn't know if there was any filling he liked with the chocolates, so at Sam's Mystery Shop you try to find at least pretty molds. And you found heart molds with beautiful line art. That, and a pretty dark red box with a golden bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you were preparing the boxes of chocolates to take to the Scarabia boys, but they were faster than you.

“GOOD MORNING (Y/N)!” Kalim greets you enthusiastically when you open the door after hearing the knock on it. “Happy Valentine's Day!” He stretches out his arms with a huge smile and a huge basket of chocolates. It even had a heart-shaped balloon tied to it.

You need both hands to pick up the basket. You try to tell him that he didn't need to offer you so much, in fact he didn't need to offer you anything, but all that...

“Don't worry. I love giving gifts to my friends! And it's okay if you can't eat them all before the expiration date, I'm sure Grim can help you with that. There's enough for both of you in there. Hahaha.”

“Or at least we hope it's enough for both of you.” Jamil comments behind him. “Be careful Grim doesn't steal them all from you. And I'm sure Kalim would love to spend a little more time with you, but he has to go deliver the rest chocolates.” He frowns wearily and helplessly.

You can only imagine how many chocolates someone who treats practically everyone as a friend has to give away. But you ask them to wait just one more minute. You put the basket on the table in the hallway, take the one of the chocolate boxes you were preparing to take with you and hand it to Kalim.

Just like the chocolates he gave you, yours were also bought, except the brand you bought was much cheaper. But none of that mattered to Kalim, he was thrilled just because you gave him chocolate at all. But then he remembers and looks back at Jamil.

“We’ll open them in the dorm.” Jamil says. “I'll just try one and you can eat the rest. I know (Y/N) is trustworthy.”

Kalim celebrates and thanks him for allowing him to eat the chocolates. You wait for them to turn their backs to call Jamil in a whisper that you knew he would hear and Kalim wouldn't. He turns as Kalim walks to the gate and you hand him the dark red box with the golden bow. He looks at the box in surprise, glances at Kalim and thought quickly. He takes the box and says: “I'll text you.” before he turns and walks towards Kalim with your box in his hands.

If you had given him that box while Kalim was looking, he would have been super curious and happy for Jamil, maybe even started saying that he should offer you a box too and ask about it. And you knew how much Jamil liked to be discreet and not draw Kalim's attention to his affairs.

You had time to go to all the other dorms and deliver your friendship chocolates before he sent you the messages:

“I'm sorry I didn't thank you for the chocolates when you gave them to me. We only just finished delivering Kalim's chocolates, and he went to the Pop Music Club. I wanted to ask you if there would be a possibility of you passing through Scarabia today? I would like to thank you properly.”

You say you can and he asks if it can be in an hour. You don't ask him why, even though you're asking that to yourself, but you say yes and the meeting is set.

At the agreed time you go to Scarabia and you don't even need to tell Jamil that you have arrived, he is already at the doors of the main building waiting for you. And as if that wasn't enough of a surprise, when you approach him he holds out his hand for you to place yours on top and he kisses the back of your hand. He has a charmingly confident smile on his face. He leads you like a gentleman through the dorm hallways.

“I apologize again for being so curt with you when you gave me the box.” He says as you walk with one of your arms intertwined with his. “You truly caught me off guard. I wanted to thank you at that moment, but I was so much more focused on being quick so that Kalim wouldn't... you know... intrude.” That was the least rude way of saying what he really wanted to say.

You ask him what happened after you gave him the chocolates. The box wasn't small, he wouldn't have been able to hide it from Kalim.

“What I expected.” he sighed. “Kalim started making questions right away. But don't worry, you made the right decision by handing me the box when he wasn't looking. I hope he didn't bother you about it though.”

No, Kalim didn't text or call you after that. Jamil discreetly whispered a "excellent" with a somewhat sinister smile. You ask him if he liked the chocolates and tell him that, since you didn't know which was his favorite chocolate, you decided to use them all. He gives you a slight smile.

“I can appreciate them all. When they're done well.” he smirked. “The shape was nice, probably because of the molds you used. The taste... was good enough.”

You look at him a little sadly, or maybe a little sullenly. He laughs.

“They were good.” he says more gently. “But I think you can do better.” The smug smile returns. “Maybe if I teach you a few things? Or if we cook together? I wouldn't mind that. I bet it would be... interesting to be your tutor.” He seems to like the idea, probably because of the hierarchy you would have (in addition to the one you already have).

You arrive at his room and he invites you to come in and sit on his bed.

“My roommate is also at a club meeting.” He explains, as he picks up a box, that didn't look like anything special, from his desk. “Here.” he gives you the box and sits next to you. “I thought about making you chocolates too.” He can't look you in the eyes and tries to hide the blush that was starting to appear on his cheeks. “But... I didn't want to give them to you without knowing... I made these when I got back to Scarabia, after Kalim had gone to the club meeting.” he points to the box on your lap. “I didn't have much time to get a nicer box, sorry.”

You open the box to find several heart-shaped chocolates made with your favorite type of chocolate. But the ones in the middle had letters that, the way they were arranged, formed the phrase “I love you too”.

“You bought the ones you gave to Kalim.” Jamil says, still reluctant to look you in the eyes. “And made the ones you gave me. That's what it means, isn't it? ...Try it.”

You do so and take one of the chocolate hearts, bite into it and discover that it has your favorite filling. As you expected, the flavor is divine and you say this to Jamil when he asks you what you thought of them.

“I haven't tried them yet after they're done. Can I steal one from you?”

You say yes, but instead of his hand going towards the box, it goes towards your face, holds your chin to turn your head towards him and he kisses you.

You knew you were screwed. Vil is demanding about everything and anything. But you also know he can still appreciate someone’s effort and dedication. Even if your chocolates don’t turn out perfectly, which is most likely the case, you know he’ll still be happy with your hard work and thoughtfulness.

Your real problems lie elsewhere: nutrition and healthy ingredients. Your best bet was dark chocolate, it’s the healthiest of all. But you couldn't just make boring plain chocolates, and making them in the shape of a heart wasn't enough. You search for healthy chocolate recipes for Valentine's Day and you find a recipe for dark chocolate with fruits and nuts.

It was a lot of work to remove the seeds from the kumquats, chop the almonds, dry the cherries and do everything as the recipe said, but eventually your heart-shaped chocolates with fruits and nuts were ready on time. You just had to buy the prettiest purple box you could find at Sam's Mystery Shop and a good red bow.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you took your chocolates to Pomefiore to deliver them.

Rook would be happy with any type of chocolate you give him. The simple fact that you give him a box or even just a bag on such a special day makes him beam with joy. And of course he also bought you a box of chocolates, your favorites, by the way. (Regardless of whether you told him which ones they were or not)

The best chocolates you can give Epel are the ones you know he likes but that Vil wouldn't let him eat. Even if Vil found out, it would be rude not to accept such a kind gift, so according to etiquette he would have to accept your gift. The two of you smile mischievously at each other. And yes, of course he also bought you chocolates. He asked his family to send special chocolates typical of Harveston just for you.

All that was left was to deliver the last box to Vil, but before you turned around to go to his room to see if he was there, he was kind enough to appear in the lounge at that moment. The way he walked towards you with his eyes fixed on you and that beautiful discreet smile made you feel like the most special person in the room.

You say he arrived just in time because you were about to go look for him, and you give him the pretty purple box with a red bow. He smiles in satisfaction and pick up the box.

“Well, I can't say I'm surprised to receive another box of chocolates today. And I see that this box is not of any brand. May I then assume that they were made by you?” His smile softens even more when you confirm, but even so he doesn't miss the opportunity to add a little smugness to it. “Well, let's see how you did then?”

Vil opens the box and is actually surprised by what he sees inside. He picks up one of the chocolate hearts and examines it.

“Dark chocolate.” He says in an approving tone. “I see almonds, dried cherries and... are those candied kumquats?” The fruits were what surprised him the most and he looks at you in such a neutrally curious way that you don't know whether he approved of those chocolates or not.

You tell him that you know how much he values his good nutrition, so you tried to find the healthiest Valentine's chocolate recipe, and that was the recipe you chose. You add that you followed the recipe to the letter as if defending yourself in case he doesn't like it, but at that moment you see his shoulders relax, the smile return and his eyes look at you with affection.

“You aren’t the first one to give me handmade chocolates.” he starts saying and looks at your chocolates in his hands. “But you are the first one who knows me well enough to know what I would actually like to receive. Except for Rook, but he's a strange exception. All the other boxes that arrived were of the sweetest and most caloric chocolates imaginable. I understand and appreciate the gesture but...” He looks back at you and gives you a small smile. “They don't really know me, do they?”

He takes a bite of your chocolate and looks serious about tasting it for seconds that feel like minutes to you. You ask how they are and if they taste good, he looks at you seriously and then starts laughing when he sees your worried face.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to mess with you a little. I would like to say that these chocolates are quite good, but to do so I have to add that they are, for the skills of someone who is not a professional cook. I don't think I've ever tried this kind of sweets before. Could you give me the recipe?” and even eats the rest of the chocolate he has in his hand, with an expression of clear delight.

Your instinct tells you that something is going on behind you. You look over and see Epel slightly uncomfortable with the way Rook is looking at you and Vil as if he was watching the most wonderful and touching romantic play in the history of theater. He doesn't say a word as if a single syllable could ruin the moment, and he looks like he wants to burst into tears with emotion.

You feel a gentle hand on the small of your back, you turn your head again and see that it is Vil pulling you slightly to invite you to go with him.

“I can imagine the work it took you to remove the seeds from these kumquats and candied them. Such thoughtfulness and well done hard work deserves a proper reward. Don't you think?”

His gaze alternates between looking at you sweetly and looking at Rook in a subtly threatening way, as if warning him not to snoop around. The same look could be given to any other student who looked at you with the same nosy curiosity.

Vil invites you to go with him to a place, you follow him and you arrive at the door of his room. He looks haughtily at the corridor and sees that no one followed you, or if they did they would be left behind in that same corridor. He invites you in, saying that he also has something for you. After he closes the door behind him, he goes to his desk and picks up a small, beautiful, heart-shaped golden box to give you.

“Seeing me enjoying your chocolates was a spectacle and proof enough of your value to the public.” he says referring to the other Pomefiore students who were in the lounge. “They don't deserve to witness more.”

He makes a gesture encouraging you to open the box and you do so. There were few chocolates, at least compared to the ones you gave him, but not only were they beautifully decorated, they were also made from your favorite type of chocolate. Even if your favorite is the least healthy of all. You look at him in surprise.

“Don't get used to it.” he warns you, raising a finger. “I did less on purpose so as not to be so detrimental to your nutrition.” he pokes your nose gently “This is a rare exception, you hear?”

Even though you know what his answer would be, you ask if he was the one who made them.

“Yes, they look astonishing professional, don't they?” He smiled with the greatest pride, before returning to his regular speech. “I also thought about preparing something nutritious, until I thought about what you would like to receive and not what I would like to give. If I did what I thought was best for you while neglecting your own tastes, it would not only be wrong but an insult. It would be the same as all those fans who offered me chocolates without knowing what I would like or even wanting to try. Those chocolates would convey the message that I like you but I want to mold you into the person I want you to be and that is both a lie and a blasphemy. I want to help you improve of course, but that doesn't mean I don't like who you are now. So I used your favorite chocolates and fillings regardless, but did it in small quantities. However, if you wake up tomorrow with a stomach ache because you ate them all, don't blame me, understood?”

If you hug him he will tell you to be careful so the chocolates don't fall out of the box, but he will hug you back, maybe just more delicately.

You taste one of the beautiful chocolates and they are delicious. The pride on Vil's face only increases when you tell him this. Catching you off guard, he gently holds your chin with his index finger and thumb and gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek.

“This is my thank you for your gift.” he then puts his face right in front of yours, your noses almost touching “And this is my thank you for you.” and he kisses your lips.

“ARE YOU CRAZY?!” Idia tells Ortho. “Me? Cook? For THEM? Do you want them to hate me for giving them food so poorly prepared that it could poison them? Should I check-up you? Your cause-and-effect conclusions seems to be miscalculating things.”

“I don’t detect any abnormality in my data processing.” Ortho guarantees him. “But that's what the rules of Valentine's Day tradition say. And I can even use quotes from your games and mangas to support my argument.”

“OI! Don't use those things against me, it's a low blow! Besides, like you said, those are games and mangas, or even movies, they're not real. Real life is not a fairy tale where you always conveniently fall in love with the right person who feels the same way about you. There is a much greater chance that you will fall in love with someone you don't deserve and end up preferring Prince Charming.”

“So what?”

“W-WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'SO WHAT'?”

“You don't need to declare yourself to them. You just have to offer them chocolates. If the feeling is not mutual, just leave it at that. But I'm sure that (Y/N) will offer you something. Especially knowing how much you like sweets.”

“Oh yeah, sure, it's so much better to receive a friendzone chocolate than nothing at all. It must be the new trend to replace the bucket of ice cream to eat by the spoonful while crying watching a romcom wrapped in a blanket in the middle of the dark.”

“Come on. You know (Y/N), they would appreciate anything you did simply because you tried. They are the type to appreciate the effort and intention more than the end result. I've heard them tell how happy they were with a mere postcard from Malleus Draconia during the winter break.”

“That’s because he's The Malleus Draconia. Anything coming from someone like him is spectacular. Even a curse would be a source of pride for someone to receive simply because he acknowledged their existence.”

While Ortho was trying to convince Idia to At Least Try to make some kind of chocolate for you, you were looking for molds for your chocolates at Sam's Mystery Shop.

And ‘coincidence of coincidences’ Sam had in stock molds in the shape of items from a mobile game that Idea loves. Funny enough, they were also sweets, items for the cards if you're not mistaken. But the problem arose when you saw the price: 130 thaumarks. Sam approached you when he saw your certainty in wanting to buy that item turn into doubt and consideration.

You told him you wanted to buy that, but it was too expensive for your tight budget. So, knowing that you're a trustworthy little imp, he lets you pay what you can for it and work a day or two at the store until you can pay the rest. But he wouldn't need you anytime soon, he'll tell you when he does. You accept the deal and get the molds in addition to the ingredients and the bright blue box with a black bow.

Knowing that he loves sweets, you decide to use white chocolate and milk chocolate. And you made a lot of them, enough to fill the box almost to its limit.

Meanwhile, the only way Ortho found to convince Idia to get you chocolates was by suggesting that he make some and buy others and wait to see if you would give him chocolates and what kind. If you gave him friendship chocolates, he would give you the box he bought; if you gave him chocolates you made yourself (as if), he would give you the ones he made... and the ones he bought too. “I'm terrible at cooking. It's better to play it safe if they come out inedible.”

The next day, Valentine's Day, you take your gifts to go to Ignihyde to deliver them to the Shroud brothers.

You give Ortho a cute heart-shaped power back. You tell him that you would like to give him chocolates too, but since he doesn't eat you try to find something equivalent. And even if it's not a very good charger, it's still a cute decoration. Ortho completely agrees with you and is very happy that you put so much thought into his gift. He gives you chocolate in return, a box of your favorites.

Idia is nowhere to be seen, but Ortho knows you know where to find him. You go to his bedroom door and knock on it. The door opens for you. As you might expect, he is sitting in front of his computer. He pauses the game he was playing, takes off his headphones and turns his chair to look at you.

“Hey, um, you don't need to give me chocolates out of pity if that's the case. I don't need to get something just because my brother received a gift.”

You assure him that it's not out of pity, it's because you really wanted to give him those chocolates.

“I hope you didn't spend too much. I don't want you to regret it to much.”

"I may have spent a little more than I expected," you admit, handing him the box and placing it on his lap. "But I'll be keeping the molds.”

“Molds?! You didn't actually...” He stops to first check if what he thought you had done was true.

He opens the box and it takes him a few seconds to analyze those shapes well. You are startled to see him jump out of his chair.

“THESE ARE GROOVY SWEETS! Where did you found them? Wait! You said you found molds? I didn't even know there were molds to make them! How much did it cost? This game is quite niche, it must not have been easy to find. Or cheap.”

You say finding them was easy because you simply saw them in Sam's Mystery Shop and recognized the shapes and the game logo. Idia asks you about the price again and you try to change the subject until he says that if you don't tell him he'll look it up online. And you finally tell him the price.

“And isn't that a little tight for you?” He doesn't seem the least bit surprised by the price. “I mean, the money you have comes from the headmage as far as I know, right? And I don't think he gives you much more than the bare minimum.”

You tell him about the deal with Sam.

“WHAT?! Oh, No! You won't get into debt because of me!” He says determined “I'll send Sam all the money you spent and what's left to pay for the molds. And if you don't tell me how much it was, I'll just send him, like, I don't know, a 500 thaumarks or something and you can buy whatever you want with what's left.”

You say he doesn't need to exaggerate so much, you could even accept him paying for the molds for you, but the rest was ridiculous.

“Hey, I may not be a prince but my family is still quite wealthy, you know.” he says with a smug, which then turns into his cute smile. “You must have had so much work making them, let me at least help with the expenses.” the smug returns “You know I'm going to send him the money no matter what you say right?”

You sigh a ‘Fine’ and ask if he could finally taste the chocolates. He takes one of the white chocolates and bites it. You even say that you thought about putting something else in them, but you didn't know what, however it seems that this wasn’t necessary. He was eating the chocolate with such a cute smile, and the ends of his hair started to turn a slightly pink.

“Did you try them after they were done?” he asks.

You say you ate the first one you made to taste test it, but not the ones you gave him. He takes another one and brings it to your lips for you to eat. You open your mouth and grab the chocolate, it was good, but what you liked most was the fact that he fed it to you. After this episode of confidence, he becomes embarrassed again.

“I... um...” he then proceeds to speak in the speed of light. “Ortho made me make chocolates for you because it was like the rules of tradition or whatever but you don't need to eat them they definitely suck. B-b-but I bought better ones for you.” he picks up a relatively large box and returns to speaking at a more intelligible speed. “I bought the biggest box of your favorite chocolates they've ever sold.”

You accept the box, but still ask what he said about making chocolates for you.

“What? How can you still understand what I say at that speed? Don't tell me you're one of those people who puts a video on x2 speed or something.” You look at him disapprovingly, showing that you know he's trying to change the subject again. He sighs. “Listen, I know the rules are that when you... really... like... someone you should make the chocolates yourself, just like... you... did. But what does it matter how or who does them, what matters is whether they taste good or not, right? It all ends in the same place anyway.”

“So... these chocolates,” you point to the box you gave him “or any others would be the same to you?”

“Wait! No! That's not what I meant! T-t-the ones you made n-needed to be made, t-they can't be bought.”

“So, would you prefer if I had bought them? Surely they would be better made by a professional, right?”

“N-n-no! You are distorting what I... No, actually, that's exactly what I said... B-b-but that does NOT apply here, not to you, I just... I SUCK AT COOKING, OKAY!? I didn't want to give you something ugly, poorly made and with horrible taste. But fine! If that's what you want!” He goes to the closet and takes out a pink heart-shaped box to give it to you. “You can have it. Don't say I didn't try to warn you.”

You pick up the box and open it to find cute hearts made with your favorite type of chocolate with sprinkles on top. They didn't look bad, they even looked well made. You pick one up and taste it, and it tastes good to you. You actually liked it and tell him that.

“Y-you actually enjoyed that amateurish attempt at cooking? You feeling okay? Are your taste buds buggy? You don't need to say that just to be nice, you know?”

You assure him that you're not just being nice, that you really liked it. Of course they could be better, just like yours could be too. Maybe you should try doing them together sometime?

“First Ortho makes me cook and now you? Do you really like me or just like to see me suffer?”

He insists that you keep the ones he bought too because they were for you anyway. If you give him a kiss on the cheek to thank him he will get all flustered and the ends of his hair will turn bright pink.

You knew very well what kind of chocolates you wanted to make for Malleus: ice cream! But you didn't want to offer him a bowl of ice cream, so you search the internet to see if there was any type of Valentine's Day chocolate that involves ice cream and you find the ice cream bonbons, which are basically balls of ice cream, covered in chocolate.

The recipe you found was for vanilla and chocolate ice creams, which also seemed like the safest choices. You don't make a lot, but you can still make several of each type of chocolate and decorate them with white sprinkles on the dark and milk chocolate ones and rainbow sprinkles on the white chocolate ones.

Unfortunately, since they are cold sweets, you can't put them in a normal box, so you put them in a container and store them in the fridge.

The next day, Valentine's Day, you wonder how you're going to get those chocolates to Malleus. You don't want to ruin them and you're afraid it could take so long to find him that the chocolates will start to melt even if you use a container designed for cold food. At that moment, someone knocks on your door.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” Malleus greets you when you open the door. “Happy Valentine's Day. I hope you had a good night's sleep. I'm here to fulfill the tradition of offering chocolates to my loved ones.” He snaps his fingers and a beautiful black heart-shaped box with a translucent green bow appears floating.

Malleus takes the box and hands it to you with a slight but sincere smile. As you pick up the box and thank him, you remember that ever since you woke up you were almost certain to hear movement outside Ramshackle Dorm. And that's why you ask Malleus if he was there for a long time.

“I will not hide the fact that I arrived before you woke up, but it has not been that long. Only two or three hours perhaps?”

He tells you it's no problem, for him it's not that long, but you still invite him in since he's been out there for so long to you. The two of you sit on the lounge sofa and Malleus can't take his eyes off you, he's so eager for you to open the box. When you finally do, you find beautiful hearts of your favorite chocolate with detailed and delicate line art. Malleus was so happy with your reaction, especially if you say you feel sorry for eating them because they are so beautiful.

“Im glad you enjoyed the presentation so much.” he says with an amused smile. “But please do not let that stop you from consuming them. Unfortunately, their edibility is ephemeral, so don’t let your desire to appreciate its exterior prevent you from savoring its interior and appreciating it in its entirety. Furthermore, I truly wish to know your opinion about my cooking.”

“You were the one who made them?” you ask.

“Yes, it was I.” he confirms with a proud smile. “That is why I'm rather looking forward to hearing your thoughts.”

You take one of the chocolate hearts and bite into it to taste your favorite filling too. It was delicious and Malleus couldn't have been happier about it. Then you remember your chocolates and get up to get them without telling him what you were going to do in the kitchen. You return with a modest-looking container for cold food in your hands and sit down next to him again.

You apologize for not having a box as pretty as the one he gave you and explain that you didn't know how you were going to get those chocolates to him since they had to be kept cold.

“There is no need to worry about that.” he reassures you with a loving smile. “I completely understand your dilemma. Fortunately, you needn't to think about that anymore for I am already here.”

He gladly accepts the container and opens it.

“They certainly look lovely” he says, smiling. “Am I right in concluding that your container dilemma indicates that you made them?” When he sees you confirm, his smile grows and becomes even more affectionate. “From the looks of it alone you seem to have done an excellent work. I'm looking forward to trying them.”

He carefully picks up one of the chocolates and bites into it, his eyes widen when he realized what the inside was.

“Ice cream...” he mutters to himself with a charming smile and then looks at you lovingly. “Is this why you had trouble figuring out a way to preserve them while transporting them? You focused so much on doing something to my liking that you ended up neglecting the logistical aspect.”

You confirm and he laughs heartily.

“I believe you are as aware of the rules of this tradition as I am.” his smile becomes seductive. “Chocolate made by one's hands should be a declaration of love, shall it not?” He takes your reaction as a confirmation.

He caresses your face before giving you a delicate, loving kiss on the cheek. You look at him and see his lime green eyes shining with the most love there could be.

After that he will offer to accompany you to Diasomnia so you can deliver your chocolates to the others. He will never leave your side again and will find any excuse to get so close to you that he will respectfully put his arm around your shoulder or waist.

Silver is too oblivious to realize what's happening between you and Malleus. As for the chocolates, he doesn't give you your favorites because he doesn't know which they were, but he gives you the ones he genuinely thought and hoped you would like. And even if they weren't your favorites, they were ones you really liked.

Lilia will have that smile every time he looks at you two and will try to mess with you a little. As for the chocolates, he said he would have liked to have made your chocolates himself but, you know, rules and misunderstandings to be avoided. (For a moment you shared Riddle's adoration for rules) So he offers you the most beautiful chocolates of your favorite type that he could find.

Sebek will enter into an internal conflict because he doesn't know whether to be jealous of you or happy for his liege. As for the chocolates, he doesn't give you anything too fancy, the chocolates even seem quite simple and basic, but “coincidentally” they are your favorite type and with your favorite filling too.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

*Sorry for the Cook Leona kinda bait, but let's be real, he would never even try to cook for anyone, not even himself, haha. Also, he is fully aware that he is terrible at cooking and he didn't want to give you poorly made chocolates when he could buy the best ones out there.

Did this get too long? Sorry 😣

hold on where are you seeing the boys in the basic t shirts i wanna seeeeee

they've been posting them on the twst_jp twitter account, and the merch for them is up on the Aniplex+ store! they're literally just drawings of anime characters wearing black t-shirts, but the art is really cute and, I dunno, there's just something about the Twst boys posing in their little matching t-shirts that is hilarious to me. it's adorable.

and of course, there's something about Mal especially that is just like

𑁍ࠬܓ how they react when they see you hurt (housewardens & jamil)

synopsis: pain is not something he ever wanted to associate with you. but seeing you injured—knowing someone dared to harm you—shatters his composure. for some, it’s rage; for others, panic. and for a few, it’s cold, terrifying control—until he knows you’re safe. but one thing is certain: someone will pay for this.

featured character(s): riddle rosehearts, leona kingscholar, azul ashengrotto, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, vil schoenheit, idia shroud, malleus draconia.

content warning(s): angst, mentions of violence and implied revenge, mild injury descriptions (ex. bruises, wounds, pain etc.), spoilers for book 6 in idia’s part.

a/n: they’re just being silly, guys. <3

link(s): (masterlist)

riddle rosehearts

riddle prides himself on maintaining control.

his entire life has been shaped by discipline, by structure, by the belief that emotions must be ruled by logic. he does not allow himself to be reckless, does not allow himself to be overcome. everything he does is precise, calculated, deliberate.

but the moment he sees you hurt—

everything unravels.

his breath catches in his throat, his heart slamming against his ribs, his mind instantly abandoning all reason. his entire world sharpens to a singular point—you—and all at once, every ounce of restraint he’s spent years perfecting is hanging by a fragile, fraying thread.

“who did this?”

his voice is sharper than you’ve ever heard it, trembling with something raw, something dangerously close to rage.

he’s beside you in an instant, dropping to his knees without hesitation, his hands hovering—not touching, not yet, because what if he makes it worse? what if he hurts you somehow? his fingers tremble, itching to reach out, to make sure—

“tell me where it hurts,” he says, but his voice wavers. “tell me what happened.”

his hands are gentle but firm as he checks you over, his usually practiced movements clumsy with the weight of panic. he doesn’t even realize his breathing is uneven, doesn’t even notice the way his shoulders are shaking as he looks you over, as he takes in every bruise, every wound, every sign that something happened—

something he didn’t prevent.

“you should have been more careful,” he scolds, but the words come out thin, forced, like he’s trying to hold something else back.

you try to tell him you’re fine, try to brush it off, but he doesn’t believe you. his eyes flicker with frustration, his jaw tightening, his grip on your wrist just a fraction too tense.

“don’t be ridiculous—you’re hurt,” he snaps, and then immediately exhales, forcing himself to breathe. “just… stay still. let me handle this.”

he refuses to let you wave it away. refuses to leave it alone. you are not fine, and he will not let you convince him otherwise.

but even as he focuses on making sure you’re okay, something else burns at the edges of his mind, pressing against his temples like an unbearable weight—

who did this to you?

his hands clench into fists. his breathing evens out, but his posture remains rigid, coiled tight like a string about to snap.

because once you’re safe—once he’s certain that you’re okay, that you’ll recover, that he didn’t fail you—

then, and only then, will he deal with the one responsible.

his mother may have taught him restraint, but some things are unforgivable.

and hurting you is one of them.

leona kingscholar

danger.

his body registers it before his mind does, his instincts kicking in the moment his eyes land on you—hurt, vulnerable, not okay.

his vision tunnels, his pulse spikes, and suddenly, the world around him doesn’t matter anymore.

“what the hell happened?”

his voice is a low, guttural growl, thick with something dark, something uncontrollable. his hands clench at his sides, every muscle coiled, his body ready—ready to fight, ready to destroy, ready to eliminate whatever put you in this state.

but then he sees it—sees the way you’re holding yourself, the way your breath hitches, the way you flinch just slightly—and suddenly, the anger has to be forced down, swallowed like bile in the back of his throat.

because right now, you come first.

so he moves, closing the distance in a single step, his hands reaching for you before he can stop himself. his hands are gentle from the start, unusually so. these hands of his are capable of devastation, of turning flesh to dust, of summoning ruin with a mere touch. but against you, they are careful, restrained. the second he feels the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips, the tension in his hold eases, his hands softening, steadying you instead of breaking you.

“who did this?”

his voice is still dangerous, still thick with that barely restrained fury, but now there’s something else underneath it.

concern.

fear.

he hates how it makes his chest tighten. hates the way it lingers at the edges of his thoughts, nagging at him, clawing at something buried deep beneath his usual indifference.

he kneels in front of you, his sharp, emerald eyes scanning every inch of you with terrifying intensity. his fingers ghost over your injuries, his jaw clenched so tight you can hear his teeth grind together.

“tell me.” his voice is dangerous now.

and then—when you hesitate, when you try to brush it off, when you lie—

his patience snaps.

“don’t give me that.” his grip tightens just slightly, his expression darkening. “you’re hurt. don’t act like it’s nothing.”

there’s no room for argument in his tone. no patience for your stubbornness, no willingness to accept anything less than the truth.

if you try to keep it from him, if you refuse to say who’s responsible, then fine—he’ll find out himself.

because someone did this.

and once you’re safe—once he’s sure you’re okay, once he’s made damn sure you’ll recover—

then he’s hunting.

“stay here,” he mutters, standing to his full height, his tail flicking behind him in barely restrained aggression. “i’ll take care of it.”

and if you try to stop him?

his gaze flickers down to you, something sharp, something scorching, like the unrelenting heat of the desert sun at its peak—blistering, unforgiving, merciless.

“no one lays a damn hand on you and gets away with it.”

and then he’s gone, a storm of unbridled wrath, a lion on the hunt.

azul ashengrotto

azul is a man of careful calculations.

every word, every action, every decision he makes is deliberate. he has spent years crafting a persona of charm, wit, and effortless composure—one that allows him to stay in control, no matter the circumstances. he does not flinch, does not waver, does not lose to uncertainty.

but then he sees you hurt.

and suddenly, all of that control is gone.

his breath catches, his body locks up, and for one horrifying moment, his mind is utterly blank.

“you—what happened?”

his voice doesn’t sound like his own. it’s too sharp, too raw, lacking the usual smoothness he prides himself on.

he rushes to you without thinking, but the second he’s close enough to touch, he hesitates. his fingers hover inches above your skin, his knuckles white with the force of his restraint. his mind is screaming at him to act, to do something, but a terrible thought wedges itself into his panic—

what if i make it worse?

he doesn’t trust his own hands, doesn’t trust his own judgment, not when the sight of you like this is unraveling him from the inside out.

“tell me what hurts,” he demands, his words tumbling out in a way that’s almost frantic. “is it serious? how bad is it?”

his thoughts spiral immediately, jumping to the worst possible conclusions. is it critical? should he be calling for medical attention? what if you’re downplaying it? what if he’s not fast enough?

and then you try to brush it off.

“nothing?” he echoes, breath hitching. his voice almost cracks—and he hates that. “how can you say that when you’re—when you—”

his hands clench into fists, shaking slightly as he forces himself to breathe.

“just—just stay still,” he mutters, voice tight with strain. “i’ll take care of it.”

because if there is one thing he knows, one thing he can control, it’s fixing things. making deals. offering solutions.

“i’ll call a healer. i’ll get whatever you need—whatever you want.”

his words come too fast, his mind still racing, but through it all, his hands never leave yours.

his grip is too tight, fingers wrapped around yours like a lifeline, like letting go isn’t an option he’s willing to consider.

because if he lets go—if he loses you—

he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle it.

and when it’s over—when he knows you’ll be okay—he still doesn’t let you out of his sight.

“you scared me,” he murmurs, quieter than before.

his voice is steadier now, but you can still hear the remnants of his fear, lingering in the way his thumb brushes absentmindedly over your knuckles, in the way he exhales like he’s been holding his breath this entire time.

and for the first time since you’ve met him—since he built the persona of azul ashengrotto, the untouchable businessman, the man always one step ahead—

he lets you see just how fragile he becomes when it comes to you.

kalim al-asim

kalim is always smiling.

he is a beacon of joy, a burst of light in every room he enters. when things go wrong, he looks for the silver lining. when people are hurting, he lifts them up with his boundless energy. sadness is something he refuses to dwell on, something he fights against with warmth and laughter.

but when he sees you hurt?

his entire world stops.

“oh no, oh no—”

the words leave him before he can think, his breath catching as his heart lurches in his chest. he doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause to process what he’s seeing—his body moves, fast and instinctive, rushing to your side.

his hands cradle your face, warm and steady despite the frantic tremor in his touch.

“are you okay? what happened? does it hurt? how bad is it?”

his voice is shaking. he’s shaking.

and when he finally really looks at you, when he takes in the way you wince, the way you hold yourself like you’re trying to hide the pain—his chest tightens, his stomach twisting into something awful.

“why didn’t anyone stop it? why didn’t i stop it?”

guilt. overwhelming, suffocating guilt floods him like a tidal wave.

“i should’ve been there! i should’ve protected you!”

his grip on you tightens—not enough to hurt, just enough to let you know he’s here. he isn’t letting go. he won’t let go.

and then, before you can stop him—before you can tell him it’s not a big deal—his eyes start to glisten.

“kalim, are you—”

“i’m not crying!” he absolutely is. “i just—you scared me!”

his voice wobbles, and suddenly, he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you too tightly, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.

“don’t move, okay? just stay right here! i’ll get someone to help—i’ll fix this, i promise!”

if it’s something small—just a minor scrape, a bruise—he still treats it like it’s life-threatening. he refuses to let you walk it off, refuses to let you act like it’s fine.

if it’s something worse? if you are seriously hurt?

he panics, but his movements are certain. without hesitation, he lifts you into his arms, holding you to his chest like you’re something precious, like you belong nowhere else but safe in his hands.

“i’ve got you,” he whispers, voice breaking. “i won’t let anything happen to you.”

and when he finally gets you to safety, when he finally knows you’re okay—

he still won’t stop fussing.

“you need to rest! do you want pillows? i’ll get you pillows! or tea! do you want tea? i’m sure jamil will—jamil! we need tea!”

“kalim, i’m fine—”

“no, you’re not fine! i was so scared!”

his fingers squeeze yours.

and later, when you’re patched up, when the worst of the moment has passed—

he presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes.

“don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is softer now, the usual excitement dimmed into something deeply sincere.

“i don’t ever wanna see you hurt again.”

jamil viper

jamil was raised to handle crises.

he has spent his entire life being the one who steps in when things go wrong, the one who fixes things while everyone else panics. no matter the situation, no matter the chaos, no matter the pressure—he is always in control.

so when he sees you hurt, when he registers the way you’re holding yourself, the way your face twists with pain—

his stomach drops.

but his body moves on instinct.

“where?”

his voice is steady. too steady. his mind is screaming, but his tone doesn’t waver, his movements are calculated, precise. he crouches in front of you immediately, eyes scanning you with sharp, assessing precision.

“how bad is it? let me see.”

he doesn’t waste time. doesn’t ask what happened—not yet. because right now, the only thing that matters is making sure you’re okay.

his hands are warm but firm, brushing over you carefully as he checks for injuries. his fingers ghost over your wrist, your arm, the side of your face—everywhere that might be hurt—his touch gentle but filled with purpose.

“it’s not broken,” he murmurs under his breath, half to himself, half to reassure you. “no major swelling… does this hurt?”

and then—when you flinch, when you let out the softest hiss of pain—

something inside him snaps.

his jaw clenches. his breathing slows.

“who.”

his eyes flick up to meet yours, and for the first time, there is something dangerous in his gaze.

“who did this?”

if there is a culprit—if someone is responsible for this—then they are not leaving unscathed.

but even as fury thrums through his veins, even as his mind races with ways to handle the situation, he forces himself to prioritize you first.

“can you walk?” his voice is softer now, his tone slipping back into something controlled, something measured.

if you say yes, he doesn’t let you prove it. he supports you immediately, one arm around your waist, guiding you effortlessly as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

if you say no, he lifts you without hesitation. no warning, no asking—just picking you up, his hold secure, unshakable.

“don’t argue,” he mutters, barely sparing you a glance. “just let me take care of it.”

because he will.

and once he gets you somewhere safe, once he’s made sure you’re being treated properly, once he knows with certainty that you are okay—

then, and only then, does he allow himself to breathe.

“you’re reckless,” he mutters, his voice a mix of exasperation and something far too raw. “i don’t have time to deal with this every time you get yourself hurt, you know.”

but his fingers tighten just slightly where they rest against your arm, betraying the truth behind his words.

because if something had happened—if things had been worse—

he doesn’t even want to think about what he would have done.

vil schoenheit

perfection is vil’s standard.

not just in beauty, not just in his work, but in everything—his composure, his discipline, the way he carries himself. he does not allow himself to be reckless. he does not make careless mistakes. he does not let emotions rule him.

but then he sees you hurt.

and something inside him fractures.

his lips press together, his expression unreadable, his body rigid—the only betrayal of the storm brewing beneath his flawless exterior is the way his fingers tighten just slightly at his sides, the way his breath is a fraction too controlled.

“where are you hurt?”

his voice is steady. cold. clinical. but his eyes—his eyes—

they burn.

he crosses the distance between you in two strides, his gloved fingers already reaching for you. his touch is firm but delicate, brushing over your skin with the kind of precision only someone like him could possess.

“sit down.” it’s not a request. “don’t move until i’ve assessed the damage.”

you try to downplay it, try to insist that it’s nothing, but his sharp gaze cuts through you instantly.

“do not insult me by pretending this is fine,” he snaps, his voice sharp as glass. “you are hurt. i can see it. so let me handle it.”

his fingers ghost over your injuries, his touch meticulous, searching. he catalogues everything—the severity, the placement, the way you react when he presses too close.

he is silent as he works, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes.

“this never should have happened.” the words slip out low, almost a whisper, but the weight behind them is undeniable. “i should have—”

but he cuts himself off before he finishes the thought.

vil schoenheit does not dwell in should haves.

he fixes things. he prevents disasters before they happen.

but right now, all he can do is make sure you are okay.

“i’ll handle this,” he says smoothly, already preparing to tend to your wounds himself. “stay still.”

his movements are precise, every action perfectly executed—cleaning, bandaging, ensuring no imperfections remain. but his touch lingers just slightly longer than necessary, his fingers brushing over your wrist, your palm, the curve of your shoulder with a tenderness that is almost imperceptible.

and when it’s over—when you are properly cared for, when the worst of the moment has passed—he finally exhales.

“you worried me,” he murmurs, and it is softer now, less controlled, less rehearsed.

and then—just for a second—his fingers ghost against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him.

“i won’t let this happen again. not ever.”

his voice is gentle. his eyes are not.

because if anyone had a hand in this—if someone is responsible for this pain—

then they will regret ever daring to touch you.

idia shroud

idia doesn’t do well under pressure.

he was not built for high-stakes situations, for stress, for emotions so raw they leave no room for second chances. he hates unpredictability, hates chaos, hates not knowing what to do.

so when he sees you hurt—

his mind shuts down.

for a full second, he just stares, his breath caught somewhere in his throat, his fingers twitching but unable to move.

no, no, no, no, no—

his brain latches onto the worst possibilities immediately. how bad is it? is it fatal? what if you’re bleeding out? what if it’s internal? what if he doesn’t react fast enough?

what if he loses you?

his stomach twists violently, a familiar, awful panic rising in his throat, threatening to choke him.

because this—this exact fear—is something he’s lived through before.

he remembers the first time. the real first time.

losing ortho was something he never saw coming. something he never thought could happen. and even though he’s built him again, recreated him, brought back a version of his little brother—

he still remembers.

remembers what it felt like to be too late. to fail someone he loved. to stand there, frozen in horror, helpless to stop it.

and now—

now it’s you.

you, the only person who matters to him besides ortho. you, the person who understands him, who stays, who chooses him despite all the reasons not to. you, who has somehow become his entire world without him even realizing it.

“oh seven—okay, okay—don’t freak out—no, wait, i’m the one freaking out—”

he rushes toward you but stops short, his hands hovering inches away, shaking.

“w-wait, should i touch you? would that make it worse?? oh seven, what if i make it worse—”

his mind is short-circuiting. too many variables. too many possible failures.

“idia,” you start, but he whirls on you, wide-eyed and frantic.

“y-you have to tell me exactly how bad it is, okay? give me a numerical rating—no, no, wait, i don’t trust the pain scale, um—can you move?? do you need a doctor??”

his breathing is erratic, his fingers clutching at the edge of his hoodie like it’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

but then—just like before—you try to reassure him.

“i’m okay.”

he stops.

his whole body locks up, his mind struggling to catch up.

”…are you sure?”

his voice is so small. so uncertain.

because he’s already lost someone before.

and if he lost you too—if this was his fault, if he wasn’t fast enough, smart enough, good enough—

he doesn’t know what he would do.

even when he’s finally convinced that you’re not dying, he still refuses to leave your side. he hovers awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve, clearly itching to do something to make himself useful.

so he does what he knows best—

“d-do you wanna lay down? i, uh, set up a recovery station in my room. blankets. snacks. medkits—y’know, just in case. w-we can watch something comforting, i won’t even complain about the genre. promise.”

his voice is still wobbly, still slightly frayed at the edges, but the tension in his shoulders finally eases when you nod.

and later—when you’re safe, resting, and no longer in pain—

his fingers brush against yours, hesitant, unsure, before finally intertwining them properly.

“never scare me like that again, okay?”

his voice is quiet. but this time, it doesn’t shake.

because he won’t lose you too.

he can’t.

malleus draconia

malleus has lived longer than most.

a century and more has passed since his birth. he has seen generations rise and fall, watched mortals grow old in the blink of an eye. nothing unsettles him. nothing disturbs his calm.

but then he sees you hurt.

and the entire world stands still.

his breath halts, and the air around him shifts—the very atmosphere bending beneath the weight of something primordial, something as vast and unrelenting as the storm-laden skies over the land of briar.

his first instinct is not panic.

it is rage.

“who did this?”

his voice is low, steady, but beneath the surface, something dangerous lurks.

his emerald eyes gleam, faintly glowing in the dim light. the shadows stretch taller, the wind outside stills, the very earth itself seems to pause, as if the land itself knows what kind of wrath is building within him.

his hands twitch at his sides, claws curling, magic crackling faintly at his fingertips—not for you, never for you, but for whoever was foolish enough to harm you.

but he stops himself. forces himself to breathe.

because you come first.

he is in front of you in an instant, his movements as fluid as shadow, his expression unreadable. his hands—hands that could command storms, reduce castles to rubble, shatter the very sky—reach for you with an almost unnatural gentleness.

“let me see,” he murmurs, his fingers ghosting over your injury, tracing the bruises, the cuts, the places where pain lingers.

his touch is featherlight, his movements precise, but beneath it all, his body is rigid with barely restrained fury.

“who did this?” he repeats, quieter now, but infinitely more terrifying.

if you don’t answer, if you try to downplay it, if you lie—

his gaze darkens, something thunderous in his silence.

“do not shield them from me.”

he is not so easily deceived. he sees the hesitation in your eyes, the way you waver, the way you avoid his gaze. if you refuse to tell him, it does not matter—he will find out on his own.

but first—

“hold still,” he murmurs, raising his hand.

a pulse of magic hums through the air, a whisper of ancient power curling around your form like a protective shroud. the ache dulls, the wounds begin to close, the pain fades.

“better?” he asks, softer now, something tender hidden beneath the weight of his fury.

but even as he tends to you, even as he ensures you are safe—

his mind is already elsewhere.

because someone hurt you.

and for that, there will be consequences.

malleus does not act rashly. he does not lash out blindly.

but the guilty party will know fear.

“stay here,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your cheek for just a fraction of a second, his touch lingering. “rest. recover.”

and then, as he turns, the air thickens, the weight of his presence pressing down like the hush before a storm, like the crackling stillness before lightning splits the sky.

because someone has made a grave mistake.

and if the gods are watching, they would be wise to offer their mercy—because malleus draconia will not.

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