Her Creations By The Way

Hiii!! first time requesting and I absolutely love your white rabbit and angel one, but what about a jellyfish mc with the octavinelle trio and diasomnia group? Where their head empty an airhead but is actually really smart but gets distracted easily.

Octavinelle + Diasomnia with Airhead! Jellyfish! Reader

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was prepared for almost anything—except you. At first, your airheaded nature confounded him. You’d stare blankly into space during conversations, occasionally blurting out unrelated thoughts like, “Do you think stars get lonely?” or “What’s the difference between squid ink and octopus ink?”

To Azul, you seemed like an easy mark. Someone too scattered to notice loopholes in contracts or the fine print. But the first time he tried to rope you into a deal, you stared at the contract for an uncomfortably long time, then pointed out five contradictory clauses and suggested a more efficient way to write it.

Azul had never been so humiliated yet so intrigued. How could someone so spacey also be so sharp? He began inviting you to the Mostro Lounge under the guise of needing “assistance,” but it was just an excuse to pick your brain.

He’d grumble when you got distracted mid-conversation to follow a particularly shiny object, but he found himself watching you with a mix of exasperation and fondness. Your unconventional intelligence challenged him, and your whimsical nature softened the edges of his ambition.

Jade Leech

Jade found your airheadedness endlessly entertaining. At first, he mistook it for naivety, but when you casually corrected one of his mushroom classifications while admiring a random shell, he realized there was much more to you.

You fascinated him. The way your attention flitted from one thing to another like a butterfly, yet you still managed to come up with solutions to problems no one else could. Jade often tested your intelligence by subtly steering conversations into complex topics, only for you to surprise him with insightful answers delivered in the most absentminded tone.

“Jade, did you know the anglerfish has a symbiotic relationship with bacteria for its light?” you’d say, staring off into the distance. And just like that, Jade’s carefully laid plan to throw you off would unravel.

He enjoyed the unpredictability you brought into his life. Your head-empty demeanor paired with startling intelligence kept him on his toes, and he wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Floyd Leech

“Oh, Shrimpy’s got no brain cells, huh?” That was Floyd’s first impression of you, and for a while, he treated you like his personal amusement. He’d throw random questions your way just to see what absurd answer you’d come up with.

But the day you absentmindedly explained the physics behind the Mostro Lounge’s faulty pipe system and how to fix it? Floyd was floored. His mouth hung open for a good five seconds before he burst out laughing. “You’re a sneaky little jellyfish, aren’t ya?”

From then on, Floyd decided you were his favorite. He’d sling an arm around your shoulders and drag you around, showing you off like his prize catch. “Shrimpy’s dumb-smart,” he’d declare to anyone who’d listen, grinning ear to ear.

He loved how unpredictable you were, never knowing if you’d say something brilliant or completely off-the-wall. Floyd thrived on chaos, and you were the perfect mix of calm airhead and hidden genius to keep him entertained. He might tease you endlessly, but deep down, he adored you for being unapologetically yourself.

Malleus Draconia

When Malleus first met you, he found your airheaded nature oddly calming. Unlike others, you didn’t seem intimidated by his presence. Instead, you’d blink at him in wide-eyed wonder before blurting out random thoughts like, “If dragons hoard treasure, do they also have snack stashes?”

At first, Malleus assumed your absentmindedness was due to a lack of understanding. But during one of your meandering conversations, you casually corrected his misconceptions about a historical event—one even he hadn't noticed. He realized you weren’t just carefree; you were deeply knowledgeable in your own peculiar way.

Your ability to switch between whimsical musings and sharp observations fascinated him. He found himself seeking you out for your unique perspective, even if you occasionally got distracted by a passing butterfly mid-discussion.

“Child of Man, you are quite… unique,” he’d say with a soft smile, finding solace in your unorthodox approach to life.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia thought you were adorable. Your head-empty demeanor reminded him of the carefree youths he’d seen in his centuries of life. He’d often pop out of nowhere to startle you, laughing when you gasped and then immediately got distracted by a question like, “Why is it called a jump scare if I didn’t jump?”

But it didn’t take long for Lilia to notice the flashes of brilliance hidden behind your seemingly aimless chatter. You’d drop profound insights into conversations as if they were afterthoughts, leaving him pleasantly surprised.

“Oh-ho! You’re sharper than you let on, aren’t you?” he’d tease, ruffling your hair affectionately.

He loved how unpredictable you were, and he often encouraged your tangents just to see where your mind would wander. To Lilia, you were a delightful enigma—one that made his long life all the more entertaining.

Silver

Silver appreciates your calm presence, even if he sometimes struggled to keep up with your wandering thoughts. He’d sit quietly as you mused about the stars or wondered if birds dream, finding your voice soothing no matter how odd the topic.

He initially thought you were simply a kind but scatterbrained individual. However, when you offhandedly helped him improve his sword stance with an unexpectedly insightful comment, he realized there was more to you than met the eye.

“You notice things most people overlook,” he said, his tone soft with admiration. From then on, he started paying closer attention to your words, knowing they often carried hidden wisdom.

Silver respected your unique way of thinking and found comfort in your presence, even when you got distracted mid-sentence. To him, you were a gentle yet brilliant soul, someone who brought unexpected light into his life.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek was baffled by you. At first, he couldn’t fathom how someone so easily distracted could survive at Night Raven College, much less so many Overblots. He’d often lecture you, only for you to nod absentmindedly and then ask something completely unrelated, like, “Do crocodiles ever get lonely?”

It drove him up the wall. He thought you lacked focus, which was unacceptable to him. But then, during a heated argument about magical theory, you calmly pointed out a flaw in his reasoning that left him speechless.

Sebek stared at you, wide-eyed, before clearing his throat and crossing his arms. “Hmph! I see you’re not as oblivious as you appear,” he muttered, trying to mask his begrudging respect.

Despite his initial frustrations, Sebek grew to admire your hidden intelligence. He’d still scold you for your airheaded tendencies, but deep down, he appreciated your unique perspective and the unexpected wisdom you brought to the table.

Masterlist

"I Love You"

When the words "I love you" spill from the prefect's lips, how do the Housewardens react?

Part 1

TW: Kissing in Malleus' part, forehead kisses, mentions of insecurities (Fluff)

Part 2 (Separate): Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

ᥫ᭡. Kalim Al-Asim ᥫ᭡.

Like the scorching sun in the Scalding Sands, Kalim's feelings for you burned deep within his heart. Why is it that he wants to spend time with you, but the moment he does, his heart seems to stop? Why is it that the word 'friend' bugs him when associated with you? Why is it that he wants to be selfish, to hog you for himself? His mind become's mush whenever you're near and his throat feels dry, he just feels so shy.

Kalim is everything but shy.

Expensive gifts, prized heirlooms, rare gemstones, and any luxury you could name- he'll give it all to you, so why do you reject? Anyone else would accept his gifts with open arms, encouraging him to give more. Wait, you aren't anyone, you're you. You don't take, you give. Despite the little you have in this new world, you who harbors no magic, gives him joy. You spend time with him, you care for him, and you don't take from him- he really wishes you would.

Take his riches and look back at him just one more time, he swears he'll hand you all the gold he can acquire. So please, please just look at him more.

You're caring, so much so that he could just melt in your arms. How lucky he feels when you look at him, but why? Jamil looks at him too, he doesn't feel as if mice are tickling him then. No, when you're around, all he can see is you. You who shines brighter than any gemstone his wealth could buy. You are not a prize to be won, he knows, but he wishes that the glitters of gold could woo you, make him your number one.

He feels so lost and it hurts, nights spent sobbing away.

Kalim, the name alone makes you smile. Someone who's kind despite all that he's faced, all the horrible people he's met- he still believes in the good of people. Some call it naivety, you call it 'a heart of gold'. Yes, he's sheltered, there's some things he's slow at, and he has flaws. Despite said flaws, he want to become better and you see him try every single day. You've seen how he makes everyone comfortable, always including anyone and everyone, how he's akin to a drop of sunshine. It's a rarity and you appreciate it greatly. Twisted Wonderland, it's new to you and things are difficult but when Kalim's there, things don't feel that difficult.

He doesn't look down upon you, he doesn't think you're weak despite having no magic, and he certainly never belittles you- others have and that hurt.

He's always up for some fun, but it always feels better when he can share the fun with you. Thus, flying carpet rides have become your nightly routine. There's a soft knock on your window every other night, a hand extended your way; calling you to live, be happy. You can't help but blush when the carpet takes off, his body huddles closer to yours and the moon seems tease you with how bright she is.

It's another night and he's come to pick you up to go see the Scarabia moon. You're sitting next to each other, the desert seemingly glowing underneath. The stars twinkle and you swear the breeze is cool on purpose, just so the both of you have no choice but to lean into each other. Hands intertwine, both of you looking the other way, cheeks red like cherries.

"I..I love you."

You fumble out on mistake, your breath hitching the moment you realize. His head whips towards you, garnet eyes appraising your blushing visage. A soft smile appears on his lips, his sun-kissed skin peachy with a blush of his own.

"I love you too."

He says eagerly, hands wrapping around you as he pulls you in. The moon looks bigger, the stars winking at you, and the scent of sandalwood engulfs you. A soft kiss is planted on your forehead, one that lingers. Like a pair of sea otters, you both hold the other's hand.

ᥫ᭡. Vil Schoenheit ᥫ᭡.

Center of attention, even the room's filled to the brim with pretty faces. Eye's the color of violets and a smile that's so striking, it could cut right through you. Just how a bright star commands everyone's admiration, Vil himself does exactly that. With beauty that's akin to a velvety rose, thorns sharp and drawing blood of the one who dares touch. He's not sure why he's so fond of you, really, it baffles him. Your constant babbling should bother him- your posture isn't perfect, you don't regularly use the products he recommends to you, and your diet could use improving.

He only recently realized the perfection of imperfection. That's what you are, like an abstract piece of art that can draw even the most elegant man's heart. Truly, you can take his breath and keep it, which is a difficult feat to accomplish. Yet, you seem to have done just that.

He doesn't like how drawn he is to you, the you who could improve so much. Nevertheless, he can't deny how his heart flutters when you ramble on and on, the words you spew seem like pearls to him. Undeniably, you've got his heart, and it bothers him.

Vil seems unreachable to you, as if he's a god and you're a follower. You can see him, but you can't touch. Everything about him is captivating- the way he moves, how he walks, how he talks, everything. You feel like a toad in front of him sometimes. Still, the reason your heart continues to flutter is not his beauty but how soft he can be. His words may be harsh, telling you to fix your posture or add a certain product to your skincare, but he means well. It used to irk you, how he pointed out your flaws, but he never touched an insecurity- it was never something you couldn't fix. Many times, he only tells you how to improve and that's in his nature. It started with you muttering curses under your breath, now all you do is give him a dopey smile as he flicks your forehead.

It's hard to love Vil, and you're sure that it's even harder to be loved by him. He's untouchable and you're not sure if he'll even spare you a glance. But, the nights you spend at his dorm, him tending to your skin as you blabber about your day. Or the few rarities when he opens up, speaking of his insecurities. It shows how human he is; how he too, can feel.

It's another night at his dorm, your skin's worsened as of late and Vil's ordered you to give him a visit. You sit at his vanity, the light's so bright that it could blind you, but what truly blinds you is Vil himself in all his glory. His dampened hair, the ends the color of wisteria, and the scent of patchouli just makes you want to melt right then and there. He strides over with a new product in his hand, carefully beginning to massage your face with it.

"I love you."

The words come out instantly, his hands stopping in motion as his violet eyes widen. A sheepish blush coats your face as you realize what you said. Your breath hitches, the fear of rejection drilling into your mind, and your heart drumming against your chest.

"That's quite bold of you, sweet potato.."

He lets out a small chuckle, eyes holding content. He leans closer before flicking you on the forehead gently.

"I love you too."

ᥫ᭡. Idia Shroud ᥫ᭡.

The buzz of video games, the stench on junk food, and an interest for oddities. Idia Shroud was a wallflower, yet you'd managed to befriend him, something he's truly grateful for- your presence. He liked you. You understood him, you never belittled him for what he enjoyed, in fact, you encouraged him to continue. No matter how good or bad you were at a game, you'd play alongside him. It didn't matter whether you enjoyed his rambles, you'd listen no matter what, before babbling on and on about something of your own interest. Nights like this, filled with games, reading manga, watching anime, and spending time with you- he never wanted these to end.

You were brave, so unlike him. You had no magic, still you managed to show courage, to fight against overblots. How he wished he was you, no, how he wished he was yours. The realization hit him like a truck in an isekai, quickly and out of nowhere. When he figured he liked you, he didn't let you anywhere near him for a week- opting to hide in his room and not leave. It took some convincing from Ortho and also the fact that you may dislike him if he ignored you, before he opened his doors for you once again. Nevertheless, he was skittish, averting his gaze from your face, and sitting on the other end of the couch when you visited. That worried you, you were sure you'd messed up big time and he became uneasy around you because of it. Thankfully everything became normal after two weeks, he was sure he wouldn't be able to recover.

The truth was, you liked him too. It was weird and something unforeseen, you both started out as friends- you'd visit his dorm, play games all night, munch on junk together, and then laugh at all the cringe characters in the current anime you both were binging on. Right now, you were experiencing that cheesy crush from a shoujo manga, and the feeling was messing with your brain.

The gloomy boy you pined for was everything but dreamy, somehow, that's what made him so charming to you. Hair an electric blue that flared up like flames, pale skin akin to porcelain, and eyes yellow like daffodils. His physicality was mesmerizing but there was so much more to his character too. He was passionate about what he enjoyed, jabbering on for hours about his interest, something that you didn't mind one bit. He was competitive, striking a triumphant grin whenever he'd win a game against you. He's prideful too, his creations making him an utter genius. At the same time, he held such emotion, a man who would never judge for he himself experienced the badmouthing of others.

There's just something about Idia, something that makes your cheeks flare up. You're not sure if he notices how his presence can make you skittish, how you become timid when he's near, and how divine he seems to you. He never notice how he makes you feel, how ironic that you become just like him when he's near.

Just like the usual, you're cooped up in his dorm alongside him. You've been binging an anime for the past few hours and the way he's so focused on the characters while you're so focused on him, it bothers you. He feels so close yet so far and the fact that you're having such thoughts about the whole situation, makes you feel stupid.

"I love you.."

You immediately pause at your own words, Idia pauses the show too. There's a long silence in the room and before you know it, Idia's moved far away from you. His hair's become an electric pink and his eyes are wide.

"W-w-w-what..!?"

He exclaims the words as if he's animated, the feeling of fluster surging throughout him. Were you playing a joke on him? This wasn't right, it couldn't be. His gaze averts the other way every time you look at him and he won't admit it, but he really hopes you're not joking.

"I love you, Idia."

You say again, softer this time and you yourself look the other way, peachy blush coating your face. You're cursing yourself for speaking up, palms sweaty and clammy. You feel dizzy and your breathing is erratic , the feeling's mutual. The room's silent again, no one says anything and the only sound either of you can hear is the buzz of the computer.

"I...I...I dove, no, love you too.."

He mutters out, fumbling his words while he does. You both look at each other, shy gaze. Your lips form a small smile, making Idia's hair flare an even brighter pink. His face is rosy and he'd rather not look at you but you're just so pretty that he can't help but look.

You're not sure how it things fell in place but he accepted your confession, and now you've somehow managed to cuddle up to him. He's stiff but that's fine, the mere fact that he's holding your hand tightly is enough to reassure you. That, and how smug he looks.

ᥫ᭡. Malleus Draconia ᥫ᭡.

Child of man, you truly are peculiar. Malleus Draconia, the name alone makes millions, if not billions, tremble to the bone. He holds such unrivaled power that the thought alone is fearsome- he is fearsome.

A monster, that's what many would call him, but you don't. No one dares approach him as carelessly as you do, a bumbling smile on your lips as you walk next to him without a care in the world. Do you truly not know what he's capable of? 'Tsunotaro', that's what you've named him- quite bold of you, not that he minds. Please continue to enlighten him about human practices, he's interested in every thing you have to say.

Loneliness is a disease that he's suffered from since his childhood. It's second nature to be alone with his own presence, silence a bandage that covers but doesn't heal his wounds. Yet, the way you come to him, invite him to all your little events, how you choose him. How can he be lonely when he has you?

You, who is so bright like a star coated in gold- is he even allowed to go near you? It feels as if you'll break in his hands, yet you seem so brave, putting yourself in danger with a smile. You've got his heart in your hands and it hurts that you don't realize.

'Friend' was a word he grew to love, knowing the special bond you shared. Nevertheless, it's the same word that has caused Diasomnia to have horrible whether for the past week- you're a friend to many but a lover to none. Be his, child of man, he's the only one worthy enough to call you his.

Since the day of his realization, Malleus follows you as a second shadow would. Now, no one with ill intentions would dare approach what he's already considered his. Truly, how precious you are. Giving him small shiny pebbles you find, trying to tuck daisies into his hair but being unable to reach his head, and the times you try to tease him as a joke, making the silliest of faces. Please tell him that he's the only one who has the honor of seeing you in such various forms. Dragons are hoarders, you know? And he wants nothing but to hoard you all for himself.

Spending time with your Tsunotaro is always fulfilling. His knowledge on gargoyles, the depth in which he speaks of them and how little he knows of human interactions. It all makes your heart flutter, eliciting a smile on your lips. It's not difficult to have feelings for someone such as him, it comes naturally. He seems so intimidating, dangerous even and it's not that he's not- he is, but there's so much more to him. He's curious, always listening to what you have to say. He's sweet, always handing you gifts whether small or unimaginably grand. And the manner in which he speaks, the elegance he holds, he's just as charming as any prince in a book- if not more.

When you began actually having feelings for him, all his words seemed to make your mind all fuzzy. Could he really not tell how his vocabulary affected you? 'My dear', 'my love', and all other forms of endearments had become a usual, so much so, that it felt right.

You went on walks with him, spotting gargoyles and chatting about them. Sometimes you drag him to picnics with and he happily follows, letting you braid his ebony hair. Still, not everything you shared seemed friend-like, and if it was, you didn't want it to be. The way his emerald eyes gazed over you, how his touch lingered so gently, and how his lips brushed agains your ear when he said he'll keep you safe. It couldn't mean nothing, you didn't want it to.

A walk in a meadow at nighttime, how strange, but also the daily for you. You walk alongside Malleus, skittish and timid- this isn't how you usually act. The moon's peeking out from under the clouds and casting a silver sheen on all that it lands on. Fireflies scurry around slowly, the cool night air making you feel at ease- but it's not enough.

Your face is flushed and you won't meet his gaze, he's not sure what he did wrong. His frame towers behind you as you seem to walk quicker, increasing your pace. Hurt, that's what he feels; did you start seeing him as a monster too?

You can't leave, please- he'll beg if he has to, give you all of what he has and can create. Promise you'll stay, and don't ever leave.

Then you pause, turning around as you take deliberate steps towards him. You look up, your smaller frame covered by his daunting shadow.

"I love you, Tsunotaro."

You say with a certain melancholy in your voice, as if you know he'll reject you and your love. How could he ever think of rejecting? He'd rather pierce his own heart and bleed to death than ever think of rejecting any of your words.

His viridescent eyes widen, the glow of them seeming intense. His hands holds you in place gently, he seems to be staring at you, looking you as if you're the most fragile piece of glass. The words don't spill out of his lips and you look more desolate by the second- he seemingly can't speak, he's not sure if this is but a dream.

"I love you too, child of man. So much that you wouldn't believe it."

His hands wrap you in a desperate embrace, almost as desperate as the words he'd just managed to choke out. It was as if you would wither away if he let go, as if he was making sure you were not a dream.

Your own eyes widen, lips parting shock at his words. The night seems magical and his embrace is sincere. He pries away from you only to look at you more, all your expressions- please continue to show such faces to only him. Only he should see you like this, with your face flushed red and eyes widened as you stare at him as though he's the only man in the world. His hands seem shaky, unlike who he usually is.

No, he seems so vulnerable and you seem to be his vulnerability.

Everything seems alright when you're there, he doesn't feel loneliness; far from it, actually. He doesn't feel like a monster when you love him, when your own arms loosely wrap around his neck as you pull him in for a soft kiss- no, monster's don't get such luxuries.

Note: If you enjoyed this, please interact with this post, my blog, and reblog! Any kind gestures are greatly appreciated! Thank you!

Note 2: Please reblog, even if you don't press like on the post. Reblogs help a ton more!

Note 3: I didn't expect the last part to get so much attention, thank you so much everyone. I greatly appreciate everyone's interactions with my posts! As of now, I'll be working on requests and maybe some other ideas! (I really hope this part 2 is good too)

Idk if you accept requests but I just read your "accidentally proposing" fic with Octavinelle, Savanaclaw and Diasomnia and had an idea!! (I have Savanaclaw in mind specifically but it might work with others?)

So what if to beast/mer/etc men, biting/marking your lover is basically like a wedding ring. A symbol to others that you're claimed (and that both parties felt safe enough to be marked that way). So imagine if the boys are already kinda crushing on Yuu/reader only for them to take their jacket off or something and reveal like a big ole bite mark on their shoulder (or wherever) and they get all mopey thinking their already claimed but in reality they just got bit by something back from their world and the scar stuck

(Inspired partially by my dad, who has a big bite mark on his arm that everyone thinks is a tattoo. it's not. Just an old dog bite)

(damn your dad sounds cool)

Savanaclaw

Setting: The Savanaclaw boys have been pining for you, and today, you're just casually stripping your jacket off after PE class, revealing a decent-sized bite scar on your shoulder.

They freeze.

Leona Kingscholar

Leona’s eyes lock onto the mark and he goes deathly quiet. His tail flicks. His ears flatten just a bit. Internally?

"Of course. Figures. I finally meet someone who doesn’t annoy me and they’re already spoken for."

He sulks hard. You notice him going distant, brushing you off when you try to chat later. It’s not until days later—when he mutters, "Your mate let you walk around unguarded like that?"—that you blink and go,

"Mate? Oh, no, a dog bit me when I was ten. Real jerk. Still got the scar."

Leona’s head snaps up. His ears twitch.

"Wait… that’s not a claiming mark?"

Cue one (1) very smug Leona by the next morning, mysteriously returning to sitting too close again.

Jack Howl

Jack actually drops the water bottle he was holding when he sees the scar. His eyes widen and then avert—immediately. He turns pink at the tips of his ears.

"Oh. I—I didn’t know you were already marked. Sorry."

He becomes very formal, very stiff. Starts calling you “prefect” again instead of your name. You finally confront him, a bit heartbroken at the sudden coldness.

"You’ve been weird since PE, what gives?"

"...I just didn’t want to overstep. That kind of scar usually means you belong to someone."

When you tell him it’s an old wound from a totally mundane dog bite, he short circuits. Like, tail-wagging-involuntarily level of flustered.

"I—I see! That makes sense! You—you should be more careful, it looked real... um, real meaningful."

Now he can't stop glancing at your shoulder and getting flustered.

Ruggie Bucchi

“Tch. Lucky bastard, whoever bagged ya.”

He’s a mix of bitter and resigned—still flirty, but with a new sad little edge. Keeps joking like,

“Too bad you’re taken. Coulda had fun.”

When you finally ask what the hell he means, he gestures at the scar like, duh.

“That’s a mark. You don’t just give or get one of those unless you’re real serious.”

You: “That was a chihuahua. It bit me because I stole its hotdog.”

He stares.

“...A chihuahua did that?” “Yeah.” “And here I was mourning a relationship that never even existed. You owe me emotional compensation, y’know!”

Back to flirting. With vengeance.

OCTAVIANS:

Setting: You’re helping out in the Lounge. The uniform jacket’s getting hot, so you slip it off behind the bar… and your shirt collar slips just enough for a very visible, very real-looking bite scar to be seen by two (2) nosy eels and one (1) devastated octomer.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul freezes mid-shaker pour. You don’t notice—it’s just a quick glimpse—but Azul does. And his brain short circuits.

"A mark that deep... that shape... it’s deliberate. Ritualistic. They’re already bound?"

He’s devastated—but covers it up with grace. Or tries to. He gets very formal, colder. You catch him staring at your shoulder more than once with that complicated emotion you can’t name.

He’s too polite to ask directly—until the heartbreak gets to him.

“You’re in a binding, aren’t you?”

You: “Huh?”

“The bite mark on your shoulder. Among merfolk, that symbolizes an eternal commitment.”

You: “Oh! Nah. That’s just from a dog that chomped me when I was a kid. I kicked him in the face.”

Azul.exe has stopped working.

“...You what—?”

Goes beet red and storms into his office to scream into a pillow. You later find your drink on the house, labeled ‘thanks for the heart attack’.

Jade Leech

Jade smiles when he sees the scar. But his eyes go half-lidded, calculating. He suddenly speaks softer. Steps farther back. Less teasing, more… respectful distance.

“My, I wasn’t aware you were already bound. Forgive me if my prior behavior overstepped.”

You: “Bound to what now??”

He gestures subtly to your shoulder, like it’s obvious.

“A bite mark like that, well… among certain species, it’s not given lightly. It would be considered rude to compete for the affection of one already ‘marked.’”

Cue your laugh.

“Oh that? I was eleven. Some mutt thought my lunch was his.”

Jade pauses… then grins, slow and sharp.

“Is that so? How very fortunate. In that case… I wonder how your skin scars. Hypothetically, of course.”

You're not sure if that’s a flirt or a threat. Probably both.

Floyd Leech

“...Huh?”

He just blinks at the mark when he sees it. Then squints real hard. Then stops talking to you.

Like, full Floyd shutdown mode. No nicknames. No glomps. Just grumpy silence. You ask him what’s wrong, and he shrugs you off like:

“Nothin’. Don’t talk to taken people. It’s boring.”

You practically have to wrestle the truth out of him. When he finally gestures at the mark, you laugh so hard you snort.

“That? Nah, that’s from a dog bite. We were playing tug-of-war and he missed the toy and got my shoulder instead. It’s just a scar.”

“Whaaat?? That’s it??”

Floyd immediately perks up. Grabs your shoulders and spins you around like:

“So you’re not somebody’s shrimp? Heh. Good. I hate leftovers.”

Later bites you (playfully) and says he wants to "make it official."

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia

Malleus was just enjoying your presence—he always is. You pull off your hoodie to reveal a bite mark on your upper arm and— He stares.

The air around him tightens. He doesn’t speak at first. Just… quietly steps back. His green eyes dim.

“...You are claimed.”

He says it like a funeral eulogy.

You blink. “Claimed?? What are you talking about?”

“That mark. You accepted a fae bond.”

You laugh. “Wait, this?” You twist your arm to show him properly. “That’s from a feral raccoon. He got me through a screen door.”

...

Malleus goes silent. Then he laughs—one of those rare, rich, real ones.

“You truly are fascinating, Child of Man. A sacred mark... from a trash beast.”

And now he won’t stop teasing you about it.

“Shall I give you a proper one, to replace the raccoon’s?”

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia recognizes the bite mark instantly—and what it would mean if it were real. His smile drops for a moment. A beat of quiet heartbreak.

“Oh… you’ve already given yourself to another?”

He masks it fast—reverts to his cheerful, mischievous self. But the sharpness in his tone dulls.

“You should’ve told us! We’d have sent you a proper gift, you know. A token for the bound.”

You: “Lilia, I got this bite scar from a goose. I was five. It hated my jacket.”

“...A goose?” “An evil goose.”

A beat. Then he laughs so hard he nearly levitates.

“You poor thing! Bitten by a beast of chaos!” “You mean the goose?” “No. The jacket.”

He’s overjoyed, suddenly affectionate again, now plotting how to actually mark you with fae tradition. You may have unleashed something.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek screams internally the moment he sees it. He immediately turns away, face twisted.

“I see. You have already pledged loyalty elsewhere.”

Goes full formal mode. Loud. Respectful. Heartbroken.

“I WAS A FOOL TO BELIEVE—TO HOPE—THAT YOU WERE UNBOUND!”

You’re like: “Dude. What?”

He dramatically points at the scar.

“That! You wear it openly!”

You: “Oh, you mean my shoulder scar? A horse bit me.”

Sebek.exe blue screens.

“A… horse?” “He didn’t like carrots. I was five.”

...

He gets so red. Immediately bows in apology. Starts yelling at the horse retroactively. Gives you his coat. Declares he’ll train to bite harder than any equine.

Silver

Silver notices the scar. He gets very quiet. Thoughtful.

Later that day, he gently asks:

“Did it hurt when you were claimed?”

You pause. “What do you mean?”

“The mark. It’s permanent. You must’ve trusted them deeply.”

You laugh. “No, no—Silver, I got that from a neighbor’s dog. He panicked during fireworks.”

Silver: “Oh.”

...Then he stares at the sky like it personally betrayed him.

“I thought I missed the moment you gave your heart away...”

You pat his shoulder, and he very gently, very subtly leans into it—maybe hoping he could be the one to earn that mark someday.

Hold the baby like borger

OMG! I absolutely love you for the way you did my request of Mydei trying to court reader ❤️😭🙏

It was so silly and perfect and i couldn't stop laughing!!!

And now theres part 2???

youre a blessing dear author 🫶

I'm glad you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing this ♡

Here's a part 3 ♡

Mydei x (fem)reader

Mydei courting reader (3)

Part 2

The streets of Okhema had grown quieter as the evening settled in, the sky painted in soft shades of purple and orange. The laughter of the children had faded, leaving only the distant murmur of the marketplace and the occasional chatter of passersby.

Y/N and Mydei walked side by side, their pace slow, unhurried. The excitement from earlier had died down, and now, a strange silence stretched between them.

For once, Mydei wasn’t speaking.

He wasn’t teasing her for losing, wasn’t boasting about his victory, wasn’t smirking at her like he usually did after getting the upper hand.

Instead, he was quiet.

It was… strange.

She kept sneaking glances at him, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. He was staring straight ahead, his usual sharp gaze slightly unfocused, as if deep in thought.

The memory of what happened just minutes ago replayed in her head—the chase, the cheers, the kids yelling about a reward, and then…

The kiss.

Her cheeks warmed just thinking about it.

She didn’t even know why she did it. It just felt like the right thing to do. Mydei had looked so composed, as if he hadn’t been flustered at all, and for some reason, that had annoyed her. So she acted on impulse, tugged him down, and kissed his cheek.

And then he turned bright red.

Just the thought of it made her lips twitch, but at the same time, guilt crept in.

She sighed quietly, lowering her gaze.

“…Sorry.”

The word slipped out so softly, she wasn’t sure he even heard it.

But then—

He stopped.

Y/N felt it immediately—the shift in the air, the sudden lack of movement beside her. She turned, only to see Mydei standing still, brows furrowed, watching her with open confusion.

“…What?” His voice was quieter than usual.

She hesitated before meeting his gaze. “I said… I’m sorry.”

His frown deepened. “For what?”

“For… earlier.” She shifted on her feet. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was probably weird, and I—I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, I just—”

“Why are you apologizing?”

She blinked at the sharpness of his tone.

Mydei was still staring at her, golden eyes unreadable, but there was something frustrated in the way he looked at her. Like he didn’t understand why she would even say that.

Y/N bit her lip, suddenly feeling awkward. “…Because it was kind of unfair? You didn’t really get a say in it.”

At that, Mydei let out a breath—one of incredulity.

“You think I didn’t want that?”

Y/N’s breath hitched.

The words were quiet. Almost grumbled. As if he hadn’t even meant to say them out loud.

But she heard them.

Clearly.

Her lips parted slightly, her brain short-circuiting for a second. “…What?”

Mydei’s expression stiffened, and he immediately looked away, crossing his arms. “Forget it.”

“No, hold on, what did you just say?”

“Forget it, Y/N.”

“I will not.”

“Tch.”

He turned on his heel and started walking again, this time at a slightly faster pace.

Y/N scrambled to keep up, her heart hammering, the heat rising to her cheeks again.

Did she just—

Did she mishear him?

Or did he really just say—

No. No way.

…Right?

Y/N hurried after Mydei, her heart pounding in her chest. He was not getting away that easily.

Before he could take another step, she quickly moved in front of him, blocking his path.

He stopped abruptly, barely avoiding bumping into her. “Move.”

“No.” She crossed her arms, standing her ground.

His golden eyes narrowed. “Y/N.”

“Mydei.” She mimicked his tone, unwavering. “We’re talking about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You just said something that completely contradicts the way you act, and you expect me to just ignore it?” She scoffed. “No way. You’re going to explain what you meant.”

“Tch.” Mydei’s jaw clenched, and his gaze flickered away for a moment. His entire posture screamed tense, his arms crossed so tightly it looked like he was physically keeping himself from reaching for something—maybe a sword, maybe just a distraction.

Y/N took a step closer, searching his face.

“…Mydei.”

His eyes snapped back to hers.

“I don’t get you,” she admitted, her voice quieter now. “One second, you’re messing with me, the next, you’re ignoring me, and now you’re—” She exhaled in frustration. “Now you’re saying things like that, and you won’t even explain what you mean.”

Mydei stared at her, unmoving.

For a moment, Y/N thought he was just going to shut down entirely, to brush her off and push past her.

But then—

“…You really don’t get it, do you?”

His voice was quiet. Almost amused, but not in a mocking way. More like he was baffled.

Y/N frowned. “Get what?”

His golden eyes studied her face—searching, considering. Then, finally, he exhaled.

“I like you, Y/N.”

Silence.

Y/N blinked, not entirely sure she heard him right. “…What?”

His lips pressed together, then curved into a smirk, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You’re not gonna make me say it twice.”

Her brain short-circuited.

Wait. Wait, wait, wait.

He—

He what?

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. Her thoughts felt scrambled, like someone had just thrown all the pieces of a puzzle onto the floor and expected her to figure it out in five seconds.

Mydei liked her?

Like—liked her?

She must’ve looked as dumbfounded as she felt because Mydei let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Y/N snapped out of it. “Hold on.”

“What.”

“How—” She ran a hand through her hair, still trying to process. “Since when?”

His gaze flickered to the side, and for the first time, he was the one looking unsure. “…A while.”

Oh.

She swallowed. “And you—” Her voice faltered slightly. “You were trying to tell me?”

He scoffed. “Tch. I was showing you.”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it.

All the moments over the past few weeks flashed in her mind—his sparring matches with her, his gifts, the way he lingered around her, his small but rare smiles, everything.

Oh.

Oh.

Her face burned. “I—I didn’t—”

“Yeah. I figured,” he muttered.

She groaned, covering her face for a second. “I thought you were just—y’know, being you!”

He gave her a look. “I don’t do this kind of shit for just anyone.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, and oh gods, he was serious.

Oh.

Y/N lowered her hands, her heart hammering in her chest. “And… you’re not joking?”

His expression darkened. “You think I’d joke about this?”

…No. No, he wouldn’t.

The realization hit her like a wave.

This whole time—this whole time—he had been trying to tell her. And she—she had been too oblivious to see it.

Y/N let out a breath, her pulse racing. She met his gaze, something twisting in her chest.

“…Oh.”

Mydei stared at her for a moment. Then he scoffed. “Yeah. Oh.”

Y/N swallowed hard, her mind spinning as she stared at Mydei.

The weight of everything that had just been said pressed down on her chest, making her feel both incredibly stupid and incredibly overwhelmed. She had been blind—completely and utterly blind.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “…I’m sorry.”

Mydei’s brows furrowed. “For what?”

“For not noticing.” She exhaled shakily, looking down at the ground. “For making you go through all that trouble just to get me to see something that should’ve been obvious.”

“Tch.” Mydei’s lips pressed together, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “You don’t need to apologize for that.”

She scoffed. “You literally had to chase me through half of Okhema before I even started putting the pieces together—”

“That’s not your fault.”

She looked up at him. He was staring at her, expression firm—certain.

“…Then whose fault is it?” she asked quietly.

He sighed, crossing his arms. “Mine.”

Y/N blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

“I should’ve just said something sooner.” He scoffed, shaking his head. “Instead of relying on Kremnoan traditions that clearly mean nothing to you.”

Y/N frowned. “That’s not—”

“I kept thinking, ‘she’ll get it eventually.’” His voice was low, almost frustrated—but not at her. “That one of these days, you’d finally understand.”

She bit her lip, guilt settling in her stomach. “…I still feel bad.”

Mydei let out an exasperated sigh. “You’re impossible.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “And you’re stubborn.”

They locked eyes, and for a brief moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then—

“…I liked you.”

The words tumbled out before Y/N could stop them.

Mydei froze.

Her eyes widened slightly as she realized what she’d just said.

“I—I mean—” She sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly flustered. “I like you—I liked you—no, I mean—” She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. “I never let myself think about it!”

Mydei remained still, watching her carefully. “…What do you mean?”

Y/N inhaled shakily, forcing herself to meet his gaze. “I mean, I liked you—I like you—but I never let myself think about it.” Her voice grew softer. “Because you’re you.”

His expression flickered, something unreadable passing through his golden eyes. “…Me?”

“You’re a prince, Mydei,” she murmured. “You’re an Chrysos heir. You have responsibilities. A whole kingdom to think about. And I’m just—”

Her voice faltered, her chest tightening.

Just Y/N.

Mydei’s brows drew together.

“Y/N.”

Her breath hitched slightly when he suddenly stepped closer.

She swallowed, forcing herself to keep talking. “I just—I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t let myself think about it, because—”

“Enough.”

Her words died in her throat.

His voice was firm—certain.

She looked up at him, startled by the intensity in his golden gaze.

“You’re not ‘just’ anything.”

Her heart skipped a beat.

“You think I care about any of that?” Mydei scoffed, shaking his head. “You think it matters to me that I’m a prince and you’re not?”

Y/N swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry.

He exhaled sharply, then—without hesitation—reached out, cupping the side of her face with his hand.

She froze, her breath catching.

“You,” Mydei said quietly, “are the only thing I have ever wanted for myself.”

Y/N’s heart stuttered.

Her mind went completely blank.

Mydei held her gaze, his thumb gently brushing against her cheek. “…Do you understand now?”

She barely managed to nod, her face burning.

He let out a small, breathy chuckle—soft, fond.

“Good.”

The morning sun bathed Okhema in a soft golden light, the streets already alive with the usual sounds of merchants calling out their wares and warriors beginning their morning drills. Among them, Mydei walked with an unmistakable air of satisfaction. His usual composed and sharp demeanor was still intact, but there was something different—his shoulders weren’t as tense, his expression wasn’t as severe, and if one looked closely enough, they might even catch a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

Phainon definitely noticed.

He had been casually leaning against a stone pillar near the training grounds, sipping his morning coffee, when Mydei passed by. At first, Phainon had assumed his eyes were playing tricks on him. But no. Mydei looked happy.

Suspiciously happy.

Phainon’s smirk was immediate. He pushed off the pillar and lazily strolled toward him.

“Well, well,” he drawled, falling into step beside Mydei. “Aren’t you in a fine mood today?”

Mydei didn’t react right away, but Phainon didn’t miss the way his lips twitched slightly before he responded.

“Hm.”

That was it. Just hm.

Phainon raised an eyebrow. “That’s all I get? No sharp retort? No glare?” He whistled, shaking his head. “Unbelievable.”

Mydei sighed, rolling his eyes. “What do you want, deliverer?”

“Oh, nothing, really.” Phainon took another sip of his coffee, watching Mydei closely. “Just curious as to why you look like someone who just won a war without lifting a sword.”

Mydei scoffed. “You’re exaggerating.”

Phainon clicked his tongue. “Am I?” He took a step ahead, then turned to walk backward, facing Mydei as he grinned. “You’re radiating smugness, Mydei. It’s practically dripping off of you. It’s disgusting.”

The golden-eyed prince sighed, clearly debating whether or not to entertain this conversation.

Phainon’s grin widened. “Does this have anything to do with a certain someone?”

For the first time since their conversation started, Mydei hesitated.

It was subtle—the briefest pause in his step, the slightest shift in his expression—but Phainon caught it immediately.

“Oh, this is rich.” Phainon let out a delighted laugh. “You’re really not gonna say anything?”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“Right. And I suppose that faint blush on your ears is also nothing?”

Mydei turned his head slightly, subtly adjusting his collar, but it was too late.

Phainon saw everything.

“Oh, this is fantastic,” Phainon continued, his blue eyes gleaming with mischief. “Should I go find Y/N? Ask her what happened?”

That finally got a reaction.

Mydei stopped walking.

Phainon barely had a second to register it before Mydei turned his head just enough to level him with a look.

“…You won’t.”

Phainon blinked. Then, slowly, a grin stretched across his face.

“Oh, but now I have to.”

Mydei exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Phainon.”

Phainon only laughed, stepping closer. “Come on. Give me something. Did she finally get it?”

Mydei crossed his arms, his expression unreadable. “…More or less.”

Phainon gasped dramatically. “You mean all of your awkward attempts actually paid off?”

Mydei gave him a flat look. “They weren’t awkward.”

“They absolutely were,” Phainon said smugly. “But that’s beside the point.” He tilted his head. “So? What now?”

Mydei was quiet for a moment.

Then, slowly, a small, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

“Now,” he said, “I make sure she never forgets.”

Phainon blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

Then he let out a low whistle. “Oh. Oh, this is going to be fun to watch.”

Phainon still wasn’t done.

If anything, Mydei’s flustered reaction only fueled his mischief further.

With a slow, deliberate motion, Phainon reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. His smirk was downright wicked as he tapped a few times on the screen before turning it toward Mydei.

“Seems like you had a good time yesterday,” he mused, his voice laced with amusement.

Mydei’s golden eyes landed on the screen.

It was the picture.

The one Phainon had secretly taken while lurking in the distance—Y/N on her toes, a hand gripping Mydei’s collar, pressing a kiss to his cheek. The normally stoic prince was caught mid-reaction, his ears red, his expression stunned.

A moment of silence.

Then—

“Mydei?” Phainon said, grinning. “You okay there, buddy?”

Mydei exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Phainon.”

Phainon’s smirk widened. “Yes?”

Mydei’s eye twitched.

“Delete it.”

“Oh, absolutely not.” Phainon pocketed his phone, taking a casual step back. “This is gold. Fantastic, even.”

Mydei ran a hand down his face. He inhaled deeply, as if to compose himself. Then, he took a step forward.

Phainon immediately took another step back.

“Mydei,” he said, amusement clear in his voice.

The prince said nothing. He merely rolled his shoulders back, his expression shifting from mild embarrassment to something much more dangerous.

Phainon recognized that look instantly.

“Oh, shit.”

Mydei lunged.

Phainon barely had time to react before he bolted, laughter spilling from his lips as he dodged between passing warriors and startled civilians.

Mydei was right behind him.

“You’re dead, Phainon.”

“So worth it!” Phainon cackled, vaulting over a wooden crate as he ran through the streets of Okhema.

“Get back here!”

“Never!”

Civilians watched in stunned silence as the two Chrysos heirs chased eachother through the marketplace, dodging carts, weaving through narrow streets, their thundering footsteps echoing through the city.

It was definitely not the last time Phainon was going to bring it up.

— PUSH AND PULL : honkai star rail.

premise. as someone who's always believed in the term “try and try again,” (peak delusion, you know) rooting yourself in their heart has always been your goal, no matter the cold rejections and curt declines you receive. however, even you have your limits; perhaps this little push and pull you two have going isn't worth your time after all... but what happens then, if the chaser becomes the chased? (oh, how the turns have tabled.)

...or, when you play hard to get with them.

— ft. sunday, aventurine, jing yuan.

warnings: angst n fluff, messy messy, these boys are in love but are wayyy too chicken to admit they actually adore you, genderless reader.

a/n. inspired by @/xiaowhore's playing hard to get headcanons! my holy trinity 😇 n MY FAVES RAHHH

NEXT : BACK TO MASTERLIST || ASKBOX

SUNDAY is perplexed. very much aware of his qualities which enlists him as one of the finer (finest) bachelors of Penacony (he was the Robin's one and only blood, and was also the head of one of the main guiding forces of the Family, after all), sunday isn't sure he's ever come across someone as.... tenacious as you.

foolish, to be more precise, for he cannot for the life of him comprehend exactly why you are the way you are with... him.

no matter his respectful declines of your invitations to promenade around Penacony (re: going on dates), you really didn't know how to leave him be. though he hasn't exactly said he hated it, sunday was, admittedly, rather... affronted. your gifts, in particular, were your loud declarations of your affection (that make his wings flutter more rapidly than he'd like); but sunday was rather inconvenienced at the whole thing.

nonetheless, he does still accept them. reluctantly, mind you. not because he was fond of your constant shower of affections, which seemed so permanent that he began to look forward to them got used to it. to your credit, your gifts were very much to his tastes. (Robin once gave him a rather soul-searching look when he found himself wearing the gloves you gifted, light blue and white in color. he still uses it, just not when his sister is in the vicinity.)

in fact, perhaps he may have gotten too comfortable. little by little, your constant intrusions on his time have thawed a way to his heart; making sunday look forward to your jovial greetings and grandeur elaborations on your day, and such a thing makes him feel scared sunday needed to nip this in the bud, and fast.

so he confronts you, abruptly one day as you give him his newest gift—a jewelry box for his earrings. (surely, the rapid thumping of his heart was due to his irritation at your constant persistence, right?) “i'm afraid this can no longer continue. i am flattered by your... fancy for me, but i do not wish to enter a relationship in the near future.”

the utter silence that follows is torture to him—but he endures. he tries not to look at the momentary flash of hurt on your face. you seemed to quickly recover, though. giving him a simple smile (it didn't reach your eyes. it shocks him how his chest ached at the realization) and shaking your head when he returns the gift to you.

“i understand, mr. sunday.” the formal usage of his name instead of your chipper ‘sunday!’ makes his face twitch. “but please, keep the gift. think of this as my last declaration. it... would do me a great comfort, just this last time, if you accepted it instead.”

(if he had grabbed your hand at that moment as you left for the door, would he regret it?)

when you leave, sunday thought it would put the conflicting feelings in his mind at ease—but it doesn't. a week and two days counting, true to your word, sunday receives no flagrant gifts, nor little messages on his phone that tell him to take care of himself, to eat, and to make sure to remember to check up on Robin.

instead, contrary to the feeling of ease, regret follows him instead.

it's at two weeks and five days counting when sunday could no longer stand the sight of papers that stacked atop his desk and the image of you leaving for the door replaying in his head far too many times for him to count, that he contacts Robin.

and she, once hearing about the situation, gives him a very, very enlightening talk. (of course, not without giving her brother a lecture of the lifetime. part of him felt shame to know that his sister knew of his... turbulent love life, but she was the only one who he could trust, anyway).

“absence makes the heart grow fonder,” she says. “but in your case, brother, your heart has already decided it's course, right?”

sunday eyes the smooth velvet of the jewelry box you gifted, ruminating. his earrings lie there, carefully pristine and beautiful, gold and silver intertwined. he has worn them without fail, clean and spotless. (of course it was. such a design so intricate was only chosen by you. the thought makes his ears warm).

the next days are agonizing. vigor renewed and epiphanies well-spent, sunday spends the rest of his time after finishing his duties researching and painstakingly finding the best jeweller he can find (even employing the suggestions of a certain gambler, much to his dislike), and spending a god awful amount of time revisiting and rechecking which spots you like, which places you enjoy, to the point it comes up in Penacony's headlines that sunday is interested in someone.

surely, it should've reached your ears by now, yes? sunday panics. your preferences are well-accounted for, and he's sure the Bloodhound family members that report to him have to tell you that the person he had in mind was you. even Robin, who was your closest friend, has probably told you already.

it's embarrassing to admit, but; to hell with it, the day he meets you after three weeks and sees you having a pleasant chat with aventurine, of all people, sunday thinks his heart had shattered into little pieces and stabbed themselves into his body. not so much as sparing him a glance, moreso.

so when, finally at his wits end, sunday chooses to corner you at the dewlight pavilion and spills out how he has royally screwed up in the worst way possible, no one is surprised. at this rate, you would be swept up in the charms of that wretched gambler, and what sunday lacked in, aventurine more than made up for.

“wait, don't go to that gambler just yet.” he's breathless, he's chaotic—and something in his heart squeezes when you finally look at him. “i... i wish to take up your time now, if that's possible.” (he wishes he would take up your time forever, really, but that was still too early).

you eye his getup. all of your gifts, lined on the man you spent so long chasing after—you see the gloves you gifted, the tie with not so much as a single crease, and the earrings that shine more brightly in the light of the pavilion. (it suits him. like you) it was as if sunday had completely surrendered himself to you, had all but decided to proclaim that he was yours, and this was nothing short of a plea for you to hear him.

“please.” he says. almost begs. “i can't bear not seeing you anymore. allow me to correct such a damning mistake.”

and if you were skeptical, the way sunday looks at you would dispel any doubt you could ever have. (his wings, they were fluttering.)

(months later, after a nerve-ending confession, many days of dinners, shared gifts involving matching jewelry and promenading to your wishes, it dawns on sunday he was absolutely dancing to your tune. did he regret it, though?

....no, most certainly not.)

if AVENTURINE were to be honest with himself, he saw you as a useful “friend” rather than a romantic interest. was it bad of him? of a sort. but risk cutting himself open and letting someone he might grow to care for know about all the ugliness that follows his life? no, he's fine as it is, thanks.

the first thing he notices is that you're kind—though he distrusted most of his colleagues and preferred none to get close to him, aventurine, in some morbid moment of curiosity, instead allowed himself to bask in your attention. instead of curtly disparaging you, he flirts back at your compliments (the way your face heated up in return was far too endearing that he can't help but want to kiss you he finds it amusing) and consistently texts you a “did you get home safe” or a “i bought you this because it reminded me of you”; at this point, it was like you two were dating.

was it leading you on? yes, but he supposes it was a win-win; he could send you those tiny bits of validation that was enough for you to stay respectfully at a distance while he probed at your intentions. unlike others who attempt to garner his favor, you're genuine, and you seriously take the time to know him. because you always text back with hearts, always reassure him, tell him to stay safe and wish him luck at every gamble, every high stakes bet he finds himself in. you even complimented his perfume once (and, if he had to be honest, he could not stop thinking about it all day—because that perfume he commissioned exclusively was based off of your own favorite scents and it was extremely embarrassing that he loved hugging you knowing that you loved the way he smelled and that it felt extremely domestic).

(sometimes, he doesn't reply. for months on end. suddenly the golden-haired man you love goes cold and you know then that aventurine ghosts you and then returns when he's in need of a friend—never a lover. it hurts you, but at the very least, you know he cares in his own way.)

and, if aventurine had to be honest, it was killing him from the inside bit by bit. as if to drive the knife deeper, you never danced around what exactly was going on with you two. you never ask why he ghosts you, then sends you a bundle of gifts all of a sudden and then rapidly spends time with you and repeating the cycle. no, you were consistently by his side, so warm and so caring—so unlike him—that aventurine wonders if it's really all right to open his heart to you.

if, by some chance, he actually wanted to be with you, would you treat him even more sweetly than before? aventurine thinks you would—you were beautiful in your entirety, and he was practically undeserving of you. he imagines himself kissing your hand and having you in his arms—and that feels like ice cold water being dumped onto his head, because you could do so much better and yet, why him?

so when aventurine hears about how a certain doctor was visiting you for some unknown reason, his already fragile sense of security in this little will-they, won't they crumbles.

and when he finds out that you were staying over with ratio? something twisted lodges itself in the little brushes of his heart, coiling and coiling—making him feel green. aventurine is aware you and the doctor are good friends, and ratio was the one who even told you to make a move on him! how could he just—suddenly interrupt?!

(was it dramatic? extremely. but knowing his friend and the person he secretly adores might end up together? you can't really blame him.)

he supposes this can be attributed to him. it was an egregious mistake, a blunder aventurine made—he never gave you a clear sight of whether he truly loved you or not and now you're slipping away from him.

so, he does something very unexpected.

at 3:00 AM in the wee early morning hours, aventurine practically barges into one Dr. veritas ratio's home, demanding what the hell was going on between you. and as if he had expected it, his doctor friend merely gives him a shrug in return.

“perhaps they were simply getting fed up by a certain IPC member—who is clearly head over heels in love with them—giving them mixed signals.” ratio's tone is stern, and aventurine definitely knows that the look he gives him is the one he gives only to fools.

you idiot, the doctor seems to say. yeah, yeah, he is; aventurine ignores the clear pinprick at his dignity.

yes, he supposes he is the fool here. “ah.”

“yes, ‘ah,’ indeed. now, let me propose a question.” the purple-haired man says. “will you react in such a way when i tell you that in order for my friend to stop their anguish, i managed to get them to fraternize with one of my colleagues?”

“...what?”

“they will be having a meet-up seven system hours from now.” ratio shrugs. eyes aventurine, who's looking at him like a gaping, stupid fish. “i can only hope that no one would dare to disrupt.”

...it doesn't take him long to be rid of the gambler by then.

(a few hours later, you stop by the Intelligentsia Guild to see one veritas ratio with a smug smile, eyeing the fur coat draped around your shoulders, and the flushed and happy expression written on your face.

“did it work?” he asks.

you laugh, “splendidly.”

indeed, that gambler was a fool, and there's nothing more than dr. ratio loved than to educate such fools to shape.

“that will teach him.”)

as a quote unquote ‘old man’ who knows that he's well up in his years for a relationship, JING YUAN finds you to be quite amusing.

it doesn't take a detailed analysis to know that you were smitten with him, really. you're a complete open book by his standards—if your heated face and slightly airy voice whenever you were even placed in the same vicinity with the Dozing General was anything to come by. while flattering, he also shares the similar mindset of being too old for any love his way—and he could be mara-struck at any given time, and jing yuan does not wish such a life filled with anguish and pain for the one who may steal his heart. but, worry not, brave suitor of the Arbiter General! unlike the other two above, this man has the experience of millenia, and is open-minded and aware that you truly wish to be perceived as a potential lover.

in fact, jing yuan's recent favorite habit is sneaking off the Seat of Divine Foresight purely to freak you out, watching you scramble up your words, seeing the heat crawl up your nape and bloom all across your face. adorable. you certainly knew how to appeal, that's for sure.

(“heh, it seems i've found a new place to stay in so that the Diviner Fu won't grill me alive when she sees me.”

and when he's rewarded with a bashful and speechless look in return, a smile and your, “i'm glad, general.” it surprisingly lightens up his mood by more than he expected.

that, in turn, gives him a frightening 30% energy boost; fu xuan was utterly shocked to see the languid man actually working and looking like he enjoyed it, for once.

“did something good happen today, jing yuan? why so enthusiastic?”

“i just felt like working more than usual, diviner Fu. i seem to have my energy levels at a high.”)

now, jing yuan is considerate and perceptive first and foremost, so there's a high chance that out of all the men here, he is the most open to giving you the chance to pursue him. he does inform you beforehand that he has no plans of accepting your confessions in the future, and that is where the ‘hard to get’ part comes in.

it's like playing a confusing romance visual novel with a fickle love interest—you never really know what you're doing, whether it's something jing yuan would like or not, and you don't know if he even thinks your attempts are moving his heart. (tldr: he friend zones you).

he maintains the same distance no matter his banters with you, no matter how many times you tell him that you'd help yanqing out with sword lessons. it's like he was just... treating you as he would a friend, and that you were basically stuck in the friend-zone forever.

(he keeps it to himself, but something warm stirs in his chest when he sees yanqing sleeping on your shoulder after training practice, with your arm protectively around the boy's side.

your sleeping face didn't make it easy to look away either; it's one of the few moments in which jing yuan shows just the slightest bit of reciprocating your pursuits; he brushes back the stray hairs covering your face, and drapes a blanket over the two of you.

of course, perhaps to tease yanqing, he also takes the calligraphy brush and makes a work out of his face, doodling all over it.

when you wake up, there's a lingering scent of ink and yellowed paper that fills your senses. when you turn to the boy beside you, you almost giggle out loud.)

it's a little disheartening—and while jing yuan did acknowledge that you were slowly, slowly burrowing yourself in his heart, he doesn't act on it fast enough, and instead lets the realization sit in his mind for a while.

it gets to the point where it feels as though he were preparing to distance himself, and even yanqing had asked if he was well. your visits with the Arbiter General also decrease, as he suddenly buried himself in his work even more than before.

he doesn't get to see you all that much afterwards, despite the lingering feeling of missing you filling his heart.

....that's until jing yuan hears word of a recent mara-struck incident involving the Sky-faring Commission; with your name listed among those heavily injured.

when he visits Bailu's clinic after yanqing urges him, jing yuan takes in the sight of you, littered in injuries from head to toe. your life, about to snap. he never even told you that you won; you did manage to steal his heart and for the first time in a long time, jing yuan allows himself to love.

so if, after three weeks later when you're finally healed up and ready to go, jing yuan brings you into his arms and drags you to let him sleep in your lap, you can't really blame him now, can you?

a/n: i love yearner hsr men,,, might do a pt 2 though. thinking of mayb ratio, jiaoqiu and f/heng next time...... sighs dreamily

@ ICEUNHIE: do not repost translate or plagiarize my works.

Trash Novel Chronicles Masterlist

1. Please Let Me Live || Vil Schoenheit

You get isekai'd into the worst novel you've had the misfortune of reading because apparently your life is a cosmic joke. Now all you have to do is not act like the character you've possessed and it'll be fine, you think?

Your fiancé being Vil Schoenheit makes it a little harder to behave like a human being with functional braincells, but hey, atleast he likes you, you think?

2. Villain System vs World || Riddle Rosehearts

You have a guilty pleasure: trashy villainess stories. So when you die a frankly, humiliating death, and end up in one of the worst ones you've had the pleasure of reading as the villainess, you're in denial. Then the villain system shows up. Well, there goes your second chance at life So what do you do now? Do villainous things and cause as much chaos as you can, of course. And maybe, just maybe, bag the male lead, Riddle Rosehearts while you're at it.

3. I'd Rather Date the Male Lead's Dad || Lilia Vanrouge

When you end up in your best friend's favourite but absurd novel about breaking a fae prince's curse as the heroine, you didn't expect to get attached to his little family too. Even more unexpected? You fell for the male lead's dad, but hey it looks like he likes you too.

4. Accidentally Falling for a Fae Prince || Malleus Draconia

When you get dragged into a novel which ends with the heroine in a polycule with the most annoying men in literature, as the heroine herself, you decide that you're gonna skip town. ...Only to trip over the fae prince, Malleus Draconia.

5. Not Another Royal Mess || Azul Ashengrotto

As a proofreader who gets isekai’d into a cringeworthy novel as the villainess, you decide to take revenge on the heroine and male lead for their awful story. With Azul—who just wanted to sell you a magic rock—pulled into your chaos.

6. Love Triangles and Royal Rumbles || Leona Kingscholar

When you get isekai'd as the male lead in the novel where your favorite character, Leona Kingscholar is the second male lead, all that's left to do is rewrite the romance!

7. I Want To Retire! || Idia Shroud

You write a novel that reads like a dumpster fire and while trying to delete the draft, you accidentally get isekai’d into it.

Now, as the villainess, you have to get Idia Shroud on your side as well as survive high society. You have your work cut out for you.

8. Stealing the Plot for Drama || Jamil Viper

The book you've been looking forward to turns out to be a piece of crap, and you have the bad luck of getting pulled into it as the villainess.

So you decide to steal the main character's show, just for sport with the help of your fiancé, Jamil Viper.

9. Falling for the Sun in a Cold Empire || Kalim Al-Asim

You lose everything you've worked for after a freak accident and end up getting transported to the novel that you read when you were a teenager.

As the villainess. It's time to rebuild yourself, one step at a time with a little help from Kalim Al-Asim, your betrothed.

10. My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy || Floyd Leech

You get isekai'd into a novel where the perfect Empress got absolutely wrecked by the plot, and now you have to juggle a bland heroine, 15 weird consorts, a traitor and a delightfully unhinged eel who’s oddly good at solving your problems.

11. Get Me Out of Here || Rook Hunt

You’re isekai’d into a trashy novel and stuck as a tragic side knight character. All you want is survival, but your boss is Rook Hunt—a poetic, eccentric duke.

Now you’re caught in his chaos and, worse, you kinda don’t mind.

12. How to Ruin a Plot || Jade Leech

When you end up as the villainess in a story that's hellbent on making her suffer for no reason, you decide to make the main characters suffer just for catharsis. Good thing that your fiancé, Jade Leech seems to like chaos as much as you.

13. I Want a Refund || Trey Clover

When the universe dunks you into a dumpster fire of a novel as the villainess, survival is key. Except your husband, Trey Clover, turns out to be such a green flag that it gets a little harder to function.

14. I Don't Want the Heroine || Ruggie Bucchi

You get isekai’d into what could only be described as an affront to literature, as the second male lead. So you decide to cut all ties with the heroine and live a peaceful (wealthy) life with your secretary, Ruggie Bucchi. Except life doesn't go as planned as you get more chaos than you signed up for.

15. My Knight is Too Loyal || Sebek Zigvolt

You wake up as the villainess in a novel that had to be written as a joke. The heroine is trying to ruin your life, but if you refuse to acknowledge her, then it’s not happening. Right? …Right??

It doesn't help that your knight, Sebek, is annoyingly endearing.

misunderstandings ft. dr ratio

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I know you probably already plan on doing the other characters, but I need at least Floyd with the kiss and make out prompt like yesterday

(Absolutely no rush tho! Loving your work ^^ don’t forget to drink water and eat food!)

Kiss And Make-Out

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff - no prns mentioned .

- [𝐜𝐡.] ace . deuce . cater . jack . floyd . epel . silver . sebek

- [𝐩:𝐬] suggestive themes . mentions of making out . romantic tension

Note: Alright! This will be the last part of the series, so I just decided to add all the characters I didn't do yet. (o´▽`o)

Ace Trappola

It started with a tug. Just a casual grip on his wrist as he passed by in the hallway, waving off some third-year who was teasing him about skipping class again. He barely had a chance to register the way your fingers laced through his before you yanked him—hard—into an empty room, the heavy door slamming shut behind you both.

"Whoa—hey! What the hell—!?"

He stumbled in, nearly tripping over his own boots, arms flailing for balance as he turned sharply on his heel. He looked up, just in time to see the glint in your eye.

Oh no.

That glint always meant trouble. The kind of trouble Ace didn’t know whether to run from or dive headfirst into.

"You—you planned this, didn’t you?" he accused, smirking despite the flush already crawling up his neck. “Dragging me into dark rooms now? So scandalous.”

You didn’t say a word.

Instead, you stepped close, grabbed both sides of his collar, and kissed him like you’d been starved for days.

Ace stiffened for half a second, brain crashing like a poorly-coded spell. His hands fluttered awkwardly at his sides before finally settling on your waist, gripping you like he might float away if he didn’t hold on.

When you finally pulled back, he was breathless and dazed. Hair a little mussed, mouth parted like he wanted to ask a question but forgot what it was.

"...Okay," he exhaled, blinking fast. "What—what was that for?"

"Missed you," you said simply, already leaning in again.

Ace let out a short laugh—more air than sound—and shook his head, pretending to be exasperated. “Missed me? It’s been like—what, three hours since breakfast?!”

You silenced him with another kiss, this one slower. Sweeter. You kissed his jaw, his cheek, the tip of his nose, all while backing him against the wall like a predator closing in on prey.

"Y-You're being so dramatic right now," he stammered, though his voice was soft, almost giddy. “D-Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing. You're trying to kill me. Death by affection.”

Another kiss. His neck this time. Right under his ear where he’s most sensitive.

He made the most embarrassing noise.

Ace clamped a hand over his mouth immediately, cheeks redder than his dorm uniform. “You—! You heard nothing. That wasn't a—hey! Stop laughing! I will hex your shoelaces together, I swear!”

But he didn’t move to escape.

If anything, he pulled you closer.

Your kisses were like fire—warm, addictive, burning away the sarcastic quips and cocky smirks he usually hid behind. With every one, you peeled back another layer, revealing the boy who secretly adored being loved this loudly.

Who basked in the chaos of your attention.

Who melted a little more every time you whispered his name against his skin.

“…You know,” he mumbled at one point, voice low and a little shaky, “you really suck at being subtle.”

You smiled into the next kiss. “Good thing I’m not trying to be.”

He huffed a laugh, arms sliding around your back as he finally gave in, completely and utterly, to your storm.

“Well, in that case… Don’t stop.”

Deuce Spade

Deuce had just finished class, books tucked under one arm, a determined look on his face as he strode through the hallway. He was focused—ready to get to his dorm, maybe squeeze in some studying before dinner.

Then you grabbed him.

It was quick. A tug to his uniform sleeve, a strong pull, and suddenly he was stumbling into an empty storage room, blinking like he’d been teleported into another dimension.

“H-Hey?! What’s going on—?! Are we hiding from someone?! Is it Ace?! Did he prank someone again—?”

You didn’t let him finish.

You pushed him gently against the door the second it shut, eyes locked onto his like a wolf who'd found its prey. And before he could take a breath—

You kissed him.

Firm. Deep. Like you had every intention of kissing away his ability to speak, think, or breathe. His eyes went wide, and he stood frozen in place like someone had cast Petrificus Totalus.

By the time you pulled away, he was flushed from the tip of his ears to the base of his neck.

“I—I—w-wait,” he stammered, lips still parted in surprise. “W-What was that for?!”

You grinned. “Just missed you.”

Deuce blinked rapidly. “Missed me? I saw you this morning—like, just a few hours ago!”

But then you leaned in again, planting kisses along his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth, even brushing the tip of his nose.

His hands shot up in defense—though he didn’t push you away. Instead, he clutched your arms like he was trying to anchor himself. His knees might as well have been made of jelly.

“Y-You're really not gonna stop, are you?” he mumbled, heart racing.

You didn’t answer—just kissed him again, slower this time, your fingers tangling in his hair as if you were savoring every second.

He melted. Right there. Right into you.

“…Okay,” he whispered, barely audible. “But don’t tell anyone I like this so much.”

You pulled back, raising a brow. “Oh? So you do like it.”

He groaned, covering his red face with his hands. “That’s not what I—! Ugh… just—kiss me again before I start overthinking this.”

Cater Diamond

It had been a busy day at NRC—classes, club meetings, and then a whirlwind of social obligations that only someone as outgoing as Cater could manage with that ever-present smile. But even someone like him needed a break, especially when the day was dragging longer than expected.

You had been waiting for the right moment all day. Cater had been bouncing from place to place, always surrounded by others, always distracted by something. And even though he texted you little hearts and selfies throughout the day, you wanted more. You missed him—not the filtered, peppy Cater that everyone else saw, but your Cater. The one who melted when you kissed his cheeks, the one who whined dramatically when you ignored his texts for more than ten minutes, the one who looked at you like you were the only real thing in the world.

So, when you spotted him walking past an empty classroom, your body moved before your mind could stop it. You yanked open the door, stepped into the hallway, and grabbed his wrist.

“Wha—whoa, babe?” Cater blinked as you tugged him inside and shut the door behind you with a click. His eyes sparkled, green and gold with a glimmer of surprise and amusement. “You know, usually I’m the one doing the kidnapping~!”

But before he could say another word, your hands were on his cheeks, and your lips crashed into his.

His back hit the door lightly, a muffled gasp escaping against your mouth as you kissed him again—then again, then again. His fingers fluttered, unsure of what to do for a second. You didn’t give him time to process. You kissed his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, even his forehead before returning to his lips, completely overwhelming him with affection.

“Babe—ha—wait, are we even allowed to be this cute in school?” he tried to tease, but his voice cracked into a breathless laugh when your lips brushed just under his ear. His knees nearly gave out.

Each kiss landed with intention. Soft and lingering, or quick and fluttery, some playful and others dizzyingly passionate. You buried your hands in his hair, and he melted like cotton candy in your arms.

“Aww, you missed me that much?” he asked between kisses, his voice going soft, vulnerable. His arms finally wrapped around your waist, pulling you in. “I mean, not that I’m complaining, but wow—this is seriously intense for a classroom makeout sesh.”

You only answered with another kiss, this time longer, deeper. And this time, he didn’t say anything. His eyes fluttered closed, his lips parting against yours like second nature.

Eventually, when the kisses slowed and you rested your forehead against his, Cater let out a dreamy sigh. He looked dazed, cheeks flushed with a blush that reached the tips of his ears. His hands were warm against your back, and his usual sparkly persona was replaced with something softer—something more real.

“Okay, confession?” he murmured. “I was so over today. But this? You pulling me in here like some drama movie lead and smothering me with love? Total game-changer. Honestly, if you ever wanna ruin my day just to fix it like that, go right ahead.”

You chuckled, and he grinned, brushing his nose against yours before stealing one last kiss.

“Let’s stay in here a little longer,” he whispered. “Just a little. It’s not every day I get ambushed by the best kisser in the world.”

Jack Howl

It started with the echo of heavy footfalls in the hallway—the rhythmic stomp of someone strong, composed, and dead set on getting to his next class without distractions. That someone was Jack Howl, and he was already mentally reviewing the next training regimen he’d be doing after school, earbuds tucked in, his brow furrowed in quiet focus.

You, on the other hand, had been plotting this for at least an hour.

He had been so distant today—not on purpose, of course. Jack never ignored you. But he’d been busy, running errands for Leona, staying late at practice, grunting his usual “I’ll text you later” without realizing how much you were aching just to touch him, to hear his voice in your ear instead of through a phone screen.

So when you saw him walking toward the empty corridor, you struck.

“Jack!”

He blinked, tugging an earbud out just in time for you to grab his hand and pull him forward with a firm yank. His eyes widened in confusion, his large body moving on instinct alone as you dragged him into the closest vacant room and shut the door behind you.

“Wait—what’s going on?” Jack’s ears twitched as he glanced around the dim classroom. “Is something wrong? Did someone—?”

You didn’t give him time to finish. You reached up, grabbed the front of his jacket, and pulled him down to your level—pressing your lips firmly to his.

His body froze. Every muscle locked in place like you’d hit a pressure point. His hands hovered awkwardly at your sides, trembling slightly as if afraid to touch you too roughly.

Your lips kissed the corner of his mouth. Then his cheek. Then the tip of his nose. A kiss on the jaw, one near his temple. You didn’t stop. He could feel your love in every press of your mouth—messy, heartfelt, craving closeness in a way that made his whole chest go tight.

Jack made a choked, very un-wolf-like noise deep in his throat.

“Y-You can’t just… do that,” he finally managed, voice thick and low, his tail twitching nervously behind him. “You can’t just pull me in and kiss me like that out of nowhere.”

Another kiss silenced him—right between his eyebrows. His hands finally moved, wrapping around your waist, large and warm, grounding you to his solid frame. You looked up to see his face flushed crimson, his ears flat against his hair, eyes darting between yours and anywhere else in the room.

“You missed me that much?” he muttered, voice quieter, breathless.

You nodded and kissed him again, softer this time. His whole expression changed. The lines of tension in his brow eased. He exhaled a shaky breath, as if he'd been holding it in since he first walked through the door. His hands tightened around you protectively, holding you against his chest like he didn’t want to let you go again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so earnestly it made your heart swell. “I’ve been too busy. That’s no excuse—I should’ve made more time for you.”

You kissed him again before he could start overthinking. This time he kissed back.

It was clumsy at first. Jack wasn’t the type for public displays of affection, and this kind of ambush? It short-circuited his brain. But now, pressed against you, with your warmth in his arms and your lips seeking his again and again, something in him unraveled.

He leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. “Just… give me a second, okay?” he whispered, a rare vulnerability in his voice. “You overwhelmed me, and I’m not mad. I just—damn. You’re gonna kill me with those kisses.”

You grinned, brushing his white bangs from his eyes before placing a final, lingering kiss on his lips.

Jack sighed. His tail wagged slowly behind him, betraying his calm facade. “You’re somethin’ else, y’know that?”

He glanced at the door before glancing back at you. “We should get going before someone walks in. But... maybe we stay just a little longer. I think I owe you a few kisses back.”

And with that, the quiet growl he’d held in finally broke, not in warning, but in affection—low, deep, and unmistakably his.

Floyd Leech

It was one of those late afternoons where the hallways of NRC shimmered with sleepy sunlight, long shadows stretching between tall columns. The students were scattered—some still lingering after class, others already making their way back to their dorms. The air was thick with the kind of quiet that only existed in the lull between chaos and curfew.

And Floyd Leech?

Floyd was bored.

His long strides carried him lazily down the marble corridor, shoes scuffing just to hear the sound echo. His blazer hung open, his tie loosely draped like he couldn’t care less—which, in typical Floyd fashion, he didn’t. He hummed some offbeat tune under his breath, mismatched eyes scanning the area for something interesting. Anything.

That’s when he saw you.

You were lingering a little too long near the end of the hallway, eyes darting to the corners, shifting nervously like you were waiting for someone—or hiding from something. But when your gaze locked with Floyd’s, something electric jolted between you.

“Shrimpy~” he drawled, a sly smile spreading across his face as he started walking faster. “You’re actin’ sketchy again. Whatcha plannin’?”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stepped forward, grabbed his wrist with sudden determination, and yanked him—hard—down the corridor.

He let out a bark of laughter, not resisting, even as he stumbled after you with amused eyes. “Oho~ What’s this? A kidnapping? I didn’t know you were that bold. This is kinda fun!”

You didn’t stop to explain. You just opened the nearest empty room—some forgotten classroom bathed in soft, golden light—and shoved him inside with a mix of urgency and giddy adrenaline. The door clicked shut behind you, muffling the world.

Before Floyd could even finish turning toward you, your hands were on him. Gripping his collar. Tugging him closer.

Then came the kisses.

One.

Two.

Three.

They landed like raindrops in a sudden storm—fast, breathless, messy. His cheeks, his lips, his jaw, the tip of his nose. Kisses that spoke of longing, of needing, of missing him so much it hurt. You kissed him like you were starved for his touch.

And Floyd? He froze.

His arms hovered in the air for a beat too long, stunned, like his body hadn’t caught up to his heart. Then—slowly, deliciously—his grin widened, a low chuckle rumbling from his throat.

“Well, well, well~ Look at you goin’ all wild on me,” he purred, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you so easily off the floor that your feet dangled in the air. “You missed me that bad, huh? Cute~”

But even as he teased, there was something breathless in his voice. Something tight in his chest.

He leaned into you, his forehead pressing against yours, eyes half-lidded and warm.

You kept kissing him—softly now. Slowly. More like an apology than a storm. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like you didn’t want to let him go. And deep down, Floyd understood. He wasn’t exactly… reliable. Not in the usual way. He wandered off. Vanished for hours, sometimes days. Chased boredom with reckless abandon. But here, in your arms, there was a different kind of pull. One that terrified and thrilled him all at once.

“I’m not used to this,” he murmured against your lips, voice quieter now. “All this sweetness. All this… real stuff. It makes my chest feel weird.”

You kissed the corner of his mouth again. “I just love you.”

The words landed like an anchor in the storm of his thoughts.

Floyd went silent.

Then—gently, reverently—he lowered you down until your feet touched the ground again, though his arms never left your waist. He stared at you with a seriousness that rarely graced his face, his usual grin softened into something real and unguarded.

“…Say it again,” he whispered.

You blinked up at him. “I love you.”

He grabbed your face in both hands and kissed you like he was drowning. All teeth and lips and raw, aching affection. It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t perfect. But it was him. Passionate, hungry, and completely lost in you.

When he finally pulled away, breathless, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, voice muffled and shaky.

“You’re in trouble now, shrimpy,” he said, arms tightening possessively. “You keep kissin’ me like that, and I’m never gonna leave you alone again. I’ll follow you to class, to lunch, to the freakin’ bathroom.”

You giggled, and he nipped at your shoulder.

“I mean it,” he said, a little louder now, eyes lifting to meet yours again. “You messed me up real good.”

And despite all his chaotic energy, his violent teasing, the jokes and the nibbles—right now, in this quiet space, with your love still warm on his skin—Floyd was just a boy in love. Hopelessly. Deeply.

Dangerously.

And as he dragged you closer again, murmuring silly threats of never letting you go, of biting anyone who even looked at you—he meant it.

Every word.

Epel Felmier

The quiet clack of your shoes echoed down the nearly empty hallway of Night Raven College. It was late afternoon, the soft amber glow of the sun filtering in through the tall windows and warming the stone floors. Most students were off in clubs or retreating to their dorms, giving the campus a rare pocket of calm.

But you were pacing—nervously, purposefully—waiting.

And there he was.

Epel Felmier, your boyfriend, coming out of class with his bag slung over one shoulder, that ever-present look of mild frustration on his face. His lips were pressed together like he'd just finished arguing with someone—or more likely, fending off another comment about how “adorable” he looked. His hair was slightly tousled, the soft lavender locks catching the light just right.

You could see the tension in his shoulders, the way he walked just a little too fast, like he had something to prove even when he was tired.

And suddenly, you couldn’t hold back anymore.

Without giving him time to react, you rushed toward him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him toward the nearest empty room with a force that surprised even yourself.

“H-Hey—?!” Epel stumbled behind you, eyes wide and cheeks already going red. “What’re ya doin’? Wait, slow—!”

Click.

The door shut behind you both with a soft thunk, cutting off the hallway and leaving the two of you in a forgotten classroom that smelled faintly of paper, chalk, and dust. Shafts of sunlight filtered through half-closed blinds, casting golden stripes across his confused face.

“W-Why’d you drag me in here—?” he started, but you didn’t let him finish.

You cupped his face in your hands and kissed him.

Hard.

The kind of kiss that silences words, that speaks of longing, of affection that built up far too long. One kiss turned into two. Three. A trail of warm, fluttering kisses scattered across his cheeks, his forehead, his jawline—so many kisses, fast and giddy, you couldn’t even keep count. Your hands tangled in his soft hair, brushing back his bangs to kiss his temple.

Epel stood frozen in your grasp for a solid few seconds, blinking in stunned silence. His breath hitched.

Then, slowly, his hands found your waist. Tentatively. Like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to hold you this tightly. His fingers curled in the fabric of your shirt as your kisses kept coming, soft and hungry, until his breath came out shaky.

“…Y-You’re bein’ real unfair right now,” he muttered, his ears burning bright pink. “Springin’ this on me without warnin’…”

You finally pulled back just enough to look at him. His face was completely flushed, lips slightly parted, and eyes wide and glassy—half dazed, half drunk on your affection. He wasn’t used to this. Not like this.

But the moment he saw how you were looking at him—genuinely, lovingly, like he was the only person in the world—it broke through his embarrassment like sunlight cutting through fog.

“…Was it ‘cause I looked mad?” he asked softly, brows knitting together. “I—I wasn’t tryin’ to take it out on ya. I just… had a rough day. Some Octavinelle jerk called me ‘cute’ again and—ugh!”

He groaned and buried his face in your shoulder. “It ain’t even what they say—it’s how they say it! Like I’m some lil’ doll or somethin’. I hate it.”

You kissed his forehead gently, arms wrapping around him tighter. “You’re beautiful, Epel. And strong. And I love you like this—exactly as you are.”

That did it.

He squeezed you like he’d been waiting for those exact words. Like you were the one thing grounding him after everything else had tried to knock him off balance.

“…You always know what to say,” he mumbled, voice muffled into your shoulder. “No one else ever sees past how I look. But you… you see me.”

He pulled back just slightly, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart race. That strong, determined gaze you knew he tried to hide from most people.

“Ya better be ready to take responsibility,” he said, grinning through his blush. “You keep kissin’ me like that, I’m gonna start expectin’ it every day.”

You smirked and leaned in again. “Then I guess I’ll just have to give you more.”

Epel laughed—a real laugh, soft and breathless and boyish, like all the pressure melted off his shoulders in your arms.

And in that quiet, golden-lit classroom, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the warmth between you, he held you close and whispered, “Don’t let go yet… just a little longer.”

Because when he was in your arms—when you smothered him in love like this—he didn’t feel small or cute.

He felt real.

He felt loved.

Silver

The breeze outside rustled the trees, the sound like soft whispers brushing against the windows of the long hallway in Diasomnia’s east wing. The castle was quiet this time of day, almost abandoned as classes had wrapped up and most students had dispersed. Even the ever-watchful Sebek had rushed off to fulfill some loud, energetic duty elsewhere.

But not Silver.

Silver walked with a steady, unhurried pace—his long legs taking him gracefully down the hallway, the silver of his hair glowing faintly in the filtered afternoon light. His expression was unreadable as always, calm and composed, yet his pale lashes drooped slightly, the telltale signs of sleep gently pulling at the edges of his consciousness.

He hadn’t seen you yet.

Not until you stepped out from the side hallway, barely giving him a chance to register your presence before grabbing his hand and pulling him gently—but firmly—into the nearest room.

“Ah—[Name]?” he blinked, his voice low and surprised as the door shut behind you both with a soft click. “Is something the matter?”

The room was some kind of unused study or storage space—quiet, dim, forgotten. A few stray books were stacked in the corners, and light filtered in through half-shuttered windows, casting warm golden streaks across Silver’s face.

He looked at you with soft confusion, his hand still in yours, never pulling away.

You didn’t answer—not with words. Instead, you reached up on your toes and kissed him.

One kiss. Then another. Then another—each one soft, hurried, breathless with affection. His eyes widened, body tensing as your lips pressed against his cheeks, his forehead, his jaw, the tip of his nose.

“Wait… ah—[Name]…!” he mumbled, cheeks flushing a delicate rose. “You’re being very… affectionate today…”

But he didn’t stop you.

If anything, his hands—gentle and warm—came to rest against your back, grounding you. One hand slid up to cradle the back of your head as he leaned into your touch, just slightly, like a man surrendering to something he knew he could never resist.

You kept kissing him, brushing over the bridge of his nose, the corner of his lips, his collarbone, all the places he often forgot were kissable. His armor was off, his guard down, and in this room—with no Malleus to guard, no Sebek shouting in his ear, no duty demanding his focus—he was just Silver. Just a boy in love.

And gods, was he beautiful like this.

“Did you miss me that much?” he asked softly, a gentle laugh in his voice, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he closed his eyes under the weight of your affection. “I’m sorry… I’ve been busy lately. I didn’t mean to neglect you.”

You shook your head quickly and buried your face in his shoulder. “It’s not that. I just… I needed you. And I wanted to remind you how loved you are. That’s all.”

He exhaled, slow and tender, wrapping his arms around you fully now, like the warmth of your presence had melted the last remnants of his knightly restraint. “Then allow me to return the favor,” he murmured into your hair.

You felt him kiss the top of your head.

Then your temple.

Then your cheek.

And finally, your lips.

His kiss was slow. Reverent. A far cry from your giddy flurry of affection—but somehow just as intense. Silver kissed you like someone memorizing the feeling, like someone afraid that if he blinked, the dream would vanish. His hands cupped your face like you were something fragile and sacred, something he couldn’t afford to lose.

“You always find me,” he whispered, forehead pressed to yours. “Even when I get lost in dreams… you pull me back.”

You smiled, heart thudding like thunder in your chest. “Because you’re my dream too. And I want to live it with you—awake.”

His eyes fluttered open, silver meeting yours, soft as starlight.

“…Then I’ll stay awake. As long as you’re here.”

You held each other in the quiet, the world outside forgotten. Silver didn’t fall asleep this time. No… wrapped in your arms, kissed breathless and full of warmth, he stayed fully awake—for the first time in what felt like forever.

Sebek Zigvolt

The halls of Diasomnia were eerily quiet that afternoon. Most students were finishing their classes, with Sebek himself hurrying to the next duty his unrelenting sense of responsibility had thrust upon him. His boots echoed with a sharp, rhythmic thunk against the cold stone floors, and the usually loud, energetic Sebek looked more tired than usual. The wild look in his eyes had dimmed a bit under the weight of his duties, and he was deep in thought when you stepped out from behind the corner.

Before he could even react to your sudden appearance, you grabbed his wrist, pulling him into one of the empty rooms nearby.

“Hey! What are you—”

Sebek’s voice cut off, his eyes wide with alarm, but his protest quickly faltered as you slammed the door shut behind you, effectively trapping him inside. He looked around in confusion, and his brows furrowed. His gaze locked with yours, puzzled, almost a little nervous, yet filled with that undying, unshakable loyalty.

“[Name],” he started to say, his tone more demanding than usual. “Why have you brought me here? I still have duties to—”

But before he could finish, you stepped up to him, cupped his face, and kissed him.

It wasn’t a gentle peck or a soft, polite kiss—it was fierce, hungry, desperate. Your lips met his with so much energy, so much emotion, that it almost knocked the breath out of him. The sudden closeness of it—the weight of your kiss—caused Sebek to freeze, his wide, green eyes blinking rapidly, as if he couldn’t comprehend the sudden shift in the air between you.

"W-Wait, wait—!" Sebek stammered, his hands moving to your arms as if to push you away. But the moment your lips brushed against his again, he faltered. "This is… this is highly inappropriate! We should not—mmph"

Another kiss silenced him, this time across his cheek, then his jawline. You were relentless, pressing soft, passionate kisses along his skin, completely ignoring his flustered protests. His breath quickened. His body tensed. There was an edge to his nervousness, but there was something else too—something deep within him that wanted this.

"Stop being so stubborn," you whispered against his lips, your breath warm against his skin. "I just want to kiss you, Sebek. Is that so wrong?"

The words hung in the air, hanging heavily on him. His eyes flickered, searching yours, as if his mind was caught in a storm of confusion and surprise. His heart pounded in his chest. His breath was shallow, his usual fiery persona momentarily disarmed by your tenderness.

"Ah... [Name], I..." Sebek’s voice trailed off, shaky and uncertain. His hands, which had previously been trying to keep some distance, were now slowly wrapping around you. His arms snaked around your waist, holding you close as he let his guard down. For a moment, he felt completely vulnerable in your arms.

Then, finally, after a beat of silence, his lips found yours—this time, not because you’d kissed him, but because he wanted to. His kiss was more controlled than yours, more cautious, yet still full of that fervent, wild energy that was so Sebek. His hands, once unsure, now pulled you into him with a quiet intensity. His grip on you was firm, the kind of forceful affection that came from a deep, unspoken need to protect, to love.

"I—" he started, pulling back just a little, his breath ragged. His usual authoritative voice faltered for a moment, giving way to something raw, something real. "I don’t know how to handle this, [Name]. I’m supposed to be the one protecting you. But… when you’re this close… it feels like I need protecting.”

You smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face. "You don’t need to protect me all the time, Sebek. I want you. I want this."

His eyes softened at the words, the storm of his usual intensity dimming just a little. He let out a quiet, almost reluctant sigh, his head tilting down to rest against your forehead. "You’ve got the strangest way of showing affection, [Name]. But… it makes me feel… something inside."

The words were soft, but his voice held a vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to show. The Sebek Zigvolt who was normally so brash, so sure of himself, was now completely captivated by you, caught in the warmth of your embrace. His strong, confident stance softened as he tilted his head to meet your lips again.

This time, his kiss was more tender—gentle, yet still filled with that passion that only Sebek could give. His hands slid down to your back, pulling you closer until your bodies pressed together. His heart beat rapidly against his chest as he kissed you deeper, as though he wanted to pour every ounce of his heart and soul into that moment.

When he pulled away again, he was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as if he had been running a race. His eyes were a little hazy, and his cheeks were a bit pink from the intensity of the moment. "I… I can’t believe you’ve done this to me, [Name]. I don’t even know what to say. But… I don’t want you to stop."

You smiled softly, resting your head against his chest, listening to the rhythmic beat of his heart. "I won’t stop, Sebek. I’m not going anywhere."

Sebek held you tighter, his arms never letting you go. "Then I suppose… I’ll have to get used to it," he muttered, his voice now a little more teasing, a little more confident in its own way. "Being loved by you, huh?"

Your laughter filled the room, warm and soft, and in that quiet, intimate space, Sebek finally let himself rest. For once, his heart wasn’t racing in a battle or a training session. It was racing because of you.

And he knew, deep down, that as long as you were by his side, he would be yours. Fully, completely, always.

⟡ tag list : @dreaming-of-tae @chai-yas @yunar1 @fever-en @sol3chu @alastor-simp

LEONA X READER

Where you start to ask him to use his UM for you

Where Leona, always insecure and determined about the patheticness of his UM, begins to change after meeting you, an artist who creates glass and crystal figures, and asks him to use his UM to transform glass remains into sand

loved this one <3

Leona hated his Unique Magic. Always had.

Sure, people said it was impressive. The ability to dry anything, to strip it down until it crumbled to dust in your palm? Sounded like the kind of magic suited for a king. Ruinous. Untouchable.

But in practice? It was destructive. Useless. Unoriginal. All it ever did was reduce things into sand. Turn lush greenery into withered husks. Sap water from soil, drain warmth from food, crack even the air with its dryness.

He’d never found a good reason to use it unless he wanted something to disappear.

And Leona Kingscholar didn’t like being reminded that he was good at getting rid of things.

So when you first approached him about it, out of the blue and way too bold for someone who barely knew him, he looked up from the grass in the greenhouse with a deep, annoyed grunt.

“You want me to what, herbivore?”

You stood over him in that stupid art-stained apron you always wore, holding a cracked chunk of smoky, burnt glass in your gloved hands.

“I’m not asking you to blow anything up, geez,” you said lightly. “I just… need some sand.”

He squinted at you, ears twitching slightly. “What, the beach too far for you?”

You smiled. “Yeah, and your sand is better.”

He blinked. “Come again?”

“The sand you make. From your UM.”

You lifted the shard to show him its jagged edge.

“See, this one’s ruined. The shape’s off, and it’s scorched. But if I grind it down, melt it again, I could maybe salvage it. But if you could just—turn it back into sand, I could get a cleaner rebatch.”

Leona sat up slowly.

“You want me to use my Unique Magic… on your garbage?”

You didn’t flinch at the edge in his tone.

“I want to try turning it into something new.”

Leona almost told you to piss off. Almost.

But you looked at that broken glass with such purpose in your eyes, like you believed something beautiful was still hiding in it.

And for some reason—maybe the sun was too hot, or he was too tired—he flicked his hand lazily and muttered under his breath.

King’s Roar.

The shard crumbled instantly, dissolving into a fine, pale gold powder. Clean. Almost sparkling in the sunlight.

You crouched to scoop it into a container with a small, satisfied hum.

“That’s perfect,” you said, like you’d just watched a flower bloom.

He raised a brow. “It’s just sand.”

“No, it’s potential.”

Something shifted in his chest at that. Uncomfortable. Hot.

You came back the next day. And the day after that.

Always with cracked glass or ruined sculptures.

Always asking, softly but with certainty, “Can I borrow your magic again?” And Leona always acted annoyed, always rolled his eyes like he was being inconvenienced, but he never said no.

And eventually, you started bringing things back to show him.

Bowls blown in spirals of color, where specks of sand were like desert stars.

Sculptures that caught sunlight just right, making tiny rainbows on the greenhouse walls.

Or delicate little trinkets—a lion’s paw, a flower blooming in a dish—that you swore were just “practice,” but he caught you smiling when he lingered on them too long.

“Couldn’t’ve done this without you,” you said once, holding a jar filled with a swirling, amber-hued hourglass.

“Your sand’s smoother than anything I could get from crushing it myself. It melts cleaner. Glows brighter.”

Leona grunted. “You’re the one doing all the work. I’m just breaking things.”

“You’re not breaking anything,” you said. “You’re giving me a chance to start over.”

He didn’t know what to say to that.

Because no one had ever said that before. Not to him.

Weeks passed like that. And slowly, Leona started to wait for you. Subtly. Not that he’d admit it.

He’d lie on the grass and tilt one ear toward the greenhouse entrance, pretending to nap while secretly hoping for your footsteps.

He found himself pocketing little broken pebbles on walks, wondering if you could use them. Once, he even caught himself thinking about what kind of glass he would be, if you ever sculpted him.

(Probably dark. Sharp. A piece that refused to be molded.)

One afternoon, you showed up carrying a bundle in cloth.

“This one’s for you,” you said, unwrapping it.

“I made it from the first batch of sand you gave me.”

It was a glass lion—small enough to fit in his palm, all sweeping mane and proud curve. Not flashy, but warm, like the sun on stone.

Leona stared. His mouth went dry.

“…Why?”

You tilted your head.

“Because I wanted to. Because I thought you deserved something that stayed, instead of just slipping through your fingers.”

That—hit something. Deep and buried. Something fragile.

He closed his hand around the glass lion slowly.

“…You’re weird, you know that?”

You smiled. “You’ve mentioned it.”

But when you turned to leave, he spoke again, quietly.

“Hey… next time you’ve got something to ruin, come find me.”

You paused, a little smile blooming on your face. “Yeah?”

He shrugged, looking away. “Might as well make some use outta this busted magic, huh?”

Your voice was soft. “It’s not busted, Leona. It just needed the right hands to show what it could become.”

His tail flicked.

For the first time in years, Leona Kingscholar didn’t think of his magic as something to be ashamed of.

He thought of sand in your hands. And glass glowing gold.

And he felt—maybe—for once—

Useful.