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mayhemspreadingguy · 4 months

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@magnusbae, not expecting I'd follow through, suggested to sketch Anakin but with cat fangs... Things got out of hand.

Also, look! Magnusbae gifted me with a most lovely fic inspired by my art (˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) (fic under the cut, 3,800+ words).

That’s it. Anakin had resisted long enough.

All through morning, noon and even dinner. He had done his Katas, had finished his chores, even went through his studies, all without so much as a single comment. He deserves to be commended personally by Master Yoda for being an exemplary Jedi. He deserves to be knighted right this moment seeing how he never even mentioned just how force karked awful his Master’s hair looked like for the past week. Sticking in all directions, it grows in uneven patches, the addition of a beard is somehow making his elegant Master look like a beggar from the streets and that, that is intolerable.

Anakin growls quietly, muscles tense. He knows his Master most likely can feel him staring holes through him, and yet he simply continues reading his datapad, not asking nor looking, radiating calm in the force. Anakin wonders if he could tidy that mess with the power of thought alone. Would that be considered a frivolous use of the force? Even if done in the service of the republic? After all, his Master’s good looks are the cornerstone of the…

Obi-Wan scratches at the back of his head, clearly bothered and Anakin can’t tolerate this anymore, cannot accept this anymore. His tongue is itching something fierce, his hands are sweating, he cannot sit still like there’s fire ants filling his pants and crawling up his spine. He cannot tolerate this. If not for himself, he must do this for his Master. If not for his Master, then for the order. If not for the order, then for the Galaxy. If not for the Galaxy, then for the Force itself. For he can swear by all that he holds dear that the Force itself is embarrassed by his Master being so unkempt, so ungroomed.

Unacceptable. This is absolutely unacceptable. His Master has to always look neat and nice and put together, smelling fresh and looking proper. That’s the only right way for his Master to be. Anakin will not stand for it being any other way. He will not. He will make it right.

His Master ignores the first lick. He often does that, pretends to not notice in the hopes of Anakin stopping after catching himself at his instincts. Oftentimes it works. Oftentimes it is an accident. But not this time. This time it’s very much on purpose and very much intended to continue until Anakin is satisfied with the results. All Anakin needs is for his Master to continue pretending to not notice long enough for him to fix this mess.

Two more licks, lower neck up the scratchy beard and—

“Anakin—” his Master stops pretending so suddenly that Anakin’s tongue moves over his jawline and across the beard in a way that tickles funny. Anakin likes how it feels, rough and interesting, makes him curious about how it’ll feel like to lick across the jawline, where the beard is the thickest.

Knowing he does not have much time before his Master attempts to stop him altogether, Anakin leans in with renewed urgency, tongue ready, mouth starting to water— “Anakin, stop!” a strong hand pushes against his shoulder, moving him a distance away without being as rough as to push.

“Mrrphh!” Anakin protests, pushing against the hand but not fighting it actively. His Master can be so bossy when he gets like this, so unreasonable. The only way to win is to use his words, otherwise his Master might just walk off and hide in his rooms instead. Or worse, go meditate in the halls, where everyone will see this shameful disaster.

“You need the grooming, Master!” Anakin starts with the foundation and heart of his objection. His Master always teaches that it’s important to be able to pinpoint the problem early on and address it quickly so as to not let it fester and become bigger than it must be. Granted his Master spoke of interpersonal disputes however it absolutely does apply here. His Master simply cannot deny this reasoning, ergo, will not be able to dispute it as untrue. “So just let me!” Anakin adds, before his Master could somehow find a way to object.

Can’t his Master see that Anakin is offering him a service? Out of the kindness of his heart, no less. Him enjoying the way his Master’s flavor sits on his tongue, the way it makes all the small hairs on his body stand on end, how it fills him with excitement— His Master’s scent, rich and spiced and safe— how he favors it above all else even when the exotic teas make him sneeze and sneeze— the way a single point of contact would narrow his senses into a single point of focus, clear his mind of all worries— the way his vision relaxes, the way his nostrils flare and he inhales and inhales and inhales— the way his heartbeat peaks and then slows, the way his mouth goes dry and he feels thirsty, hungry even— all that, all that has nothing to do with his altruistic motivations. He’s just looking out for his Master. Obviously, duh.

“Master.” He can hear his own voice, can hear how it takes a whiny note his Master often teases him for. It’s hard to care when he has a goal bigger than his own ego. “Just let me.” He demands, he can hear it and he still doesn’t stop himself from reaching for his Master’s flowing robes, claws catching on the material and making him shudder. Maybe he does need trimming just like his Master insists each time they spar. Maybe Anakin will allow it, if his Master is good and allows him this. Maybe he’d even let his Master groom him too.

The bewilderment in the force clues Anakin on the fact that yes, maybe he did forget to shield, again. He huffs through his nose, wrinkling it. He really doesn’t know what the big deal with this is, doesn’t understand the obsession everyone and especially his Master, has with hiding every single urge and instinct and thought they have. It’s not like he thinks anything he wouldn’t also say out loud. Maybe if the Jedi used less of those shields, it would have been much easier to communicate with them, to bond with them, and maybe then he’d feel less like an outsider, like an odd bird out of its cage.

“Oh Anakin..” Obi-Wan sighs, the tension loosening from his hold against his shoulder, rather than scolding, there’s the hints of the sadness his Master expresses each time Anakin feels alienated in this place. It is not his fault no one understands him, it is not his fault he is different than everyone.

“Master.” Anakin chirps back, rolling his eyes. His Master has the oddest of tendencies to get hung up on the most particular of topics. Anakin not having enough friends, per his Master’s opinion, is one such topic. Nevermind the fact that Anakin had never seen his Master ever share a true conversation with a single person. Other than himself. Of course. His Master does talk to him.

His Master will get fixated on him instead of thinking about himself and nag him to half death. ‘Anakin get more friends’ and ‘Anakin don’t spread the droid parts all across the quarters’ and ‘Anakin I’m a grown man I can groom myself.’ And while some of those things might be true, obviously, the last one is not. “You look like a mess.” Anakin says it to his face, because he and his Master are real friends.

“Thank you Padawan.” His Master answer, no longer sounding sad, instead his voice is dripping with sarcasm. Anakin doesn’t like it, but he supposes it’s better than sadness. “I do not recall asking for your no doubt impeccable sense of— Ahnakin—!” his ranting stops mid warming up when Anakin uses the opening to dart forward and lick him again, from the lowest exposed spot of his neck, up the smooth skin, his rough tongue making a satisfying ‘shh’ sound as it catches at the hair of the beard and smooths it up with his lick. The flavor is… is…

Obi-Wan had used some sort of balm… some sort of synthetic musk that makes Anakin’s brain swim funny and eyes to close and mouth to water even more. He has to swallow down the saliva lest he drool like a hungry Tooka. It’s hard not to, when his Master is so, so, so karkin yummy. He slams his shields up with a clumsy thud in the force, but maybe just a moment too late to cover up that last thought.

“Anakin!” his Master sounds properly scandalized, voice raising to a tone that always makes Anakin’s ears ring uncomfortably and the following lecturing tone is no better. “Cease this nonsense immediately, you must not—"

Anakin licks again. The side of his neck and up to the point where skin meets ear. “Master.” He says there, voice dropping into a purr that morphs into a warning growl he didn’t even think of making, there’s no aggression, only the frustrated warning to not stop him in the middle of something so damn important. Grooming, is important. More than Katas or studies or meditations. Maybe even more than sparring. And Anakin loves sparring.

All Anakin wants is for his Master to sit quietly and let him take care of him. The way he ought to, the way he was meant to do. It’s his job, after all, is it not? He is Obi-Wan’s Padawan, it’s only natural he would tend to his Master, that he would care for him, that he would help him. That just makes sense. That rings true in the force and that’s all Anakin needs to know.

"I will.” He declares, it is no longer a request nor a plea, it is a declaration of intentions. A declaration of intent. He presses his nose at the soft skin under his Master’s ear and inhales, deeply, the scent making him Master-stupid so he says what’s on his mind with no filters, with no thought. “Unless you hate me.” His voice drops softer, he can’t breath, having inhaled too much of the strongest drug known to him. “Then I won’t” he trembles, he waits, if his Master rejects him, if he does hate him for his care, he will, he

“Anakin, this is hardly related, I do not think that—”

The force between them sparks and Obi-Wan’s mouth snaps closed with an audible click of the jaw. There’s a tension and a heating of an eruption that is halted with the calming breeze of spring air, Obi-Wan’s Force Signature covering his own, soothing, embracing, calming. “Very well, Padawan.” Obi-Wan speaks with a voice of a man who’s been worn in battle, sighing out in exhaustion.b “Since you cannot resist your nature, I’ll allow it.“ He pauses, sounding not a little doubtful as he adds the obligatory “Just this once, Anakin.” A final form of giving in, one Anakin is familiar with.

There’s an ‘You should be old enough to know better’ goes unsaid and so Anakin ignores it. It wouldn’t have mattered even if Obi-Wan did say it. He had before, many times, and it never mattered. Anakin somehow doubts it’ll matter even when he grows taller than Obi-Wan. And he will, he just knows it. He will grow tall and strong, and he will always take care of his Master, and Obi-Wan would not be able to argue with that. Because it’ll all make sense. It always does. Everything about them does.

If only his Master understood him better, he’d know that one doesn’t just grow out of wishing to groom those he cares and…loves. This is something that is forever and always. That is something that only grows and deepens, something to be shared and relished. Something he will always give to his Master freely, even if his Master maybe doesn’t…. Really share it in the same way as him. Which is fine. He had decided a long time ago. It is fine.

It is enough that he gets to care for his Master. So he smiles instead and purrs out a sweet “Thank you, Master.” In that respectful manner he knows his Master enjoys hearing. He giggles when he feels his Master’s breath hitching, giggles more when nuzzling against the neck tickles his nose. “This is so horrible.” He complains, wanting his Master to know how strongly he objects to this change, and yet he cannot stop giggling. “Master!” he doesn’t even try to hide his joy from his voice, nevermind from the Force.

His Force Signature is a slow pulse of contentment, securely tucked beneath Obi-Wan’s still. When he licks small licks under Obi-Wan’s ear, he can feel his Master’s breath catching, can feel the way he stops breathing entirely and the soft gasp when Anakin licks at his ear directly, once, twice, a few more times just to test how committed his Master is to this session. Very, it seems. His Master doesn’t object even when Anakin grows bold and nibbles at his earlobe, tugging ever so gently. His Master is always so sensitive around this area, always so jumpy if Anakin stays too long at this spot. It always makes Anakin want to lick there until Obi-Wan loses his composure entirely.

He never does.

At least not too much.

He does want to groom Obi-Wan after all, not only bully him into squirming because he is so damn ticklish there. That is not to say that he is above wanting to see his pristine Master squirming a little. So he licks there again, and when his tongue dips only a little into the ear, his Master finally jumps and moves away, breathing harshly and looking redder than his hair.

“Anakin I do believe that my hair is not located in that particular spot and—” his hands close on Anakin’s shoulders when he makes it to the ear again, wanting to nibble just one more time, just one last time… “Anakin.” His Master’s firm voice snaps him back into focus, tells him gently through the force to not overdo it. Fine, fine. He will not overdo it. This time.

"Just relax, Mastah.” Anakin pouts, the word slurring in the way his Master always corrects. Always, but not now. Anakin reaches for his Master’s wide shoulders and waits a moment until his Master’s grip loosens enough for him to actually move. It’s easy enough to shift to his Master’s lap. One knee over and sitting down in one smooth motion that has a practiced finesse to it. You either get to Obi-Wan’s lap swiftly, or you don’t at all. There is no room for hesitation for his Master will do enough hesitating for the both of them. So he sits down and nudges closer, right away. Inhaling, inhaling deeper.

Oh how he wants their scent to become one. They’re already nearly inseparable, living as closely as they do, using the same soaps, eating the same foods. Anakin wants more. Anakin wishes that they could smell and feel like one. United. Clearly bonded. Even more than they are through the force. He wants it so much that his fangs itch, itch, itch to bite and bite and bite. But no. No he is here to groom, to care. Not to bite, not to… mark. His cheeks are warm with it, knowing that he has, and is, constantly considering this. Wondering about this, curious about this. About marking his Master in a way that will be known, in a way that will be understood. He thinks about it, always. Luckily his Master has no clue. Luckily, Obi-Wan does not know. Or he wouldn’t let him sit here so carelessly, surely, he wouldn’t.

“It’s part of it, duh.” Anakin says without truly knowing what he speaks of. The grooming, the licking, the biting, the sitting on the lap? He doesn’t know. He only knows of the happy, loud purr that fills his lungs when Obi-Wan doesn’t stop him from leaning back in, back to his neck, nuzzling, smelling, licking up that rough, funny tasting beard and to his hair, spiky and significantly softer than the beard. He giggles again, and purrs. It’s an odd combination of sounds he does try to stop but doesn’t manage. He is too preoccupied for dignity, or decorum, or class. He’s too karking pleased.

When he licks at his Master’s neck again, the man tilts his head up and away, exposing his throat for him. Good. Good. Good, great, awesome.

His Master couldn’t have displayed his trust more plainly than this. No words could have conveyed the same level of commitment, of confidence and belief. Exposing one’s throat, Anakin thinks, is a universal sign. Even if his Master is less inclined to instincts as Anakin is, it still counts, it still matters a whole lot that he does it for him. His Master does it because he knows it matters to him and that— that matters more than all else.

His own purring is deafening, drumming in his eardrums and filling his chest with sound, he used to try to hide this in the past when he realized that most Padawans did not purr at every one of their Master’s compliments or gestures of kindness. He no longer bothers. He pulls and licks and purrs some more. He takes his time, licking small, measured licks, taking care to put that awful messy beard into something much neater, dignified.

“Maste-rrr.” He draws the ‘R’, nuzzling again under the ear and grinning when his Master shudders but doesn’t pull away, he always gives him a chance to be good. So he will be good. He does not nibble, instead he wraps his lips carefully around the bit of skin where no hair touches. Oh he wants to suck, to mark, to taste. Oh he does, so much. But he doesn’t. He will be good, because his Master believes him to be good, and proper, and nice. So he will be.

His cheeks are fire hot when he thinks about what else he would have liked to be doing instead of the promised grooming. That is not something he should be thinking of, nor something his Master would ever permit, but…

Thinking is not illegal and he is not good at not thinking.

So he imagines it. Imagines how his Master’s hands would feel on his hips, imagines his Master yanking him down to sit properly on his lap, Imagines his Master wanting him to lick elsewhere and—

“Ahnakin—” Obi-Wan protests, so strongly it rings in the force with his words. He feels and looks scandalized, even more so than before. He looks like he is considering all his choices and decisions. He looks like he’s about to call quits. He looks like he’d push Anakin away, he— places his hands on Anakin’s hips and pulls him down, to sit properly.

The whine that escapes Anakin’s lips is nothing short of mortifying. It’s a needy, surprised thing, he feels like a proper youngling, confused and shy. He seeks the refuge of his Master’s neck and hides there, nuzzling while whining again, complaining, scandalized too by his Master’s audacity to follow his dreams up like this. He can’t mean it, he simply can’t! It is a mere coincidence, his Master would never follow his fantasies, he didn’t even hear it, his shields are up and proper, he’s sure of it, he’s sure of it, he’s…

“Sorry…” Anakin murmurs out, because if he’s honest, he is not sure if his shields are worth anything with how excited he had gotten. Maybe his Master did hear, maybe his Master did feel something. Maybe he did push a little too hard. He doesn’t want to push too hard, he knows that sometimes his Master gets nervous because of his thoughts. Not angry, never angry.

He doesn’t want to make his Master nervous, he can feel the tell-tales of it in the force. Despite his Master’s secure hold on him, despite his Master’s unmoving frame. He can feel the building up hesitation. He does not want his Master to feel that way with him.

“I’ll stop.” He promises his Master, assures him. He’ll try to, anyway. For his Master he’d try to go against his nature, even if his nature does tell him to think and do all sorts of things. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night when he can’t sleep and he thinks of his Master and every word they had ever passed, he does wonder about this. Is this truly his nature, his instincts that drive him to act as he does, or is it simply how he is with his Master? He suspects he knows the answer to that, but it’s easier for the both of them to call it instincts and be over with it, so he never disputes it. “Really.”

There’s a charged silence and then, blessedly, his Master says the two words Anakin loves more than anything else in the world, the two words for which he, not jokingly, thinks he might be willing to die for.

“Good boy.”

The Coruscanti accent is thick and rolling, he sounds almost distracted, he sounds…

Anakin shuts his eyes and bites his tongue, fangs digging into the soft flesh. He must not think of exactly how he imagines his Master sounding. He should not think about how his hands feel warm and human on his hips. He should not think about the lingering flavor on his tongue nor how his lungs are full of Obi-Wan, of his Master. He should not, is not allowed to. Promised not to. Instead he wraps his arms around his Master’s neck and hugs him, pulling the larger man to himself, having his head against his chest for a few long moments in which he is sure Obi-Wan hears just how fast his heart goes. He surely can feel it through the bond, it’s going crazy, ba-dum, ba-dum.

He can feel a distant echo of his own heartbeat, almost imperceptible to his senses, and yet there. An answer. Thoomp-thoomp.

When he leans back, he moves his hands to cup his Master’s cheeks and makes him tilt his head up, to face him. “You look good now,” His fangs stretch at his lips as he grins wide enough to hurt. “Master!” he adds, cheekily.

His Master’s eyes are a bright blue, the deepest, calmest pond. He rolls them shortly, then looks directly into Anakin’s own eyes and smiles at him, sarcasm dripping with fondness as he says “Thank you. Ah-nah-kin.” With the most accented tone Anakin had ever heard. There’s so much black in his Master’s eyes, a beautiful, wondrous thing that makes him itch all over and want to see more of that soft darkness no one else gets to see.

No one else, but him.

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riostwsty · 1 year

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>> "love comes from the most unexpected of places" <<

Summary: animals can lift up spirits with such ease when one's feeling down, don't you think? After an accident with shape shifting magic, some of the students found themselves transformed into the cutest little creatures, and unbeknownst to you, attemped to use that form to brighten a particularly cloudy day by your side

Key words: headcanons; fluff; romance; g/n reader (they/them, you/yours); relationship not established; reader not explicitly Yuu/MC; accidentally became a princess and the frog plot trope

Characters: Riddle, Jack, Jamil - x reader (separately)

CWs: animals mentioned include hedgehogs, dogs and cats!

>> Riddle Rosehearts, as one anxious hedgehog [900+ words]

- he knew pairing up with Floyd for potions class was a grave mistake of professor Crewel's. "No need to worry Mr Roseharts" he said. "This exercise is far too simple to have any sort of complications occur" he said...

- and well, now Riddle was being chased by an overly enthusiastic Floyd Leech. An even taller version of the twin, as you see, it appeared to not be enough for the cruel universe to make the potion's effects turn Riddle smaller, no. It had to transform him into a itty bitty tiny hedgehog, of all creatures, and a super cute one at that. So cute in fact, his lab partner couldn't resist the urge to tease it, or rather, threaten to squeeze the hell out of such an adorable pet.

- Riddle surprised himself on how fast those tiny legs could carry him. Running through corridors, rolling down stairs and dodging steps of unaware passing students until Floyd was left too far behind, out of his sight.

- In the courtyard, hedgehog Riddle frantically spun around, seeking for a good hiding spot, but instead found something much more curious. A certain student he knew too well, or so he thought, because no matter how much time he had spent admiring them from afar, he never before had witnessed them crying as they were at that moment.

- You sat there, under a tree's shade, hoping no one would approach, fearing the tears and hiccups would only worsen with concerned looks and curious questionnaire. And Riddle feared too, to chose between simply walking away, pretending not to see his beloved's suffering; or choosing to approach, but not being able to comfort them in any helpful way.

- But he had a realization. He didn't have to talk. Where words lacked, another option could come to play. And in that hedgehog form, coincidentally, was perfect for such a task.

- You felt a sudden gentle bump on your ankle, looking down, you were surprised to see a spiky red colored creature studying you back. Strange. These little guys were supposed to be at Heartslabyul's care. How in the world did it get in the school's courtyard?

- a weak giggle was all you could muster as a greeting to the hedgehog, standing a hand for it to climb, and petting it the way Heartslabyul's dorm leader had taught you before.

- —"Riddle must be worried sick about you. He always notices when someone is missing."— you said, unaware the boy in question was now resting at the palm of your hand. —"I can get us back home, how does that sound?"—

- He squeaked in response, and still getting used to the hedgehog legs, climbed your arm all the way up your shoulder. Doing his best to communicate worry without words, pressed the tip of his nose tracing where the tears had fallen. —"what? I'm fine, really!"— you simply replied.

- If Riddle could pout he would. Even to a hedgehog you lied about your feelings. He expected you to open up with a creature who wouldn't judge, much less understand a word you said, but apparently he had to put up a fight to get any results on that.

- the walk went quietly until you both reached the hall of mirrors, where the dorm leader had grown impatient, jumping from the safe spot by your shoulder to the cold marble floors, running and slipping side to side as he reached Heartslabyul's respective mirror, and jumped through it without warning.

- you followed behind with urgency. It's dangerous to be so tiny, roaming around all alone! Catching quick glances of the red colored spikes just before turning around the corners, the chase eventually led you to the parts of the garden where all dormitory pets resided.

- Before you could reach for the runaway creature, a horde of other colorful ones approached all at once, clinging to your shoes, happily circling around as if greeting a beloved visitor. The light nibbling of the hedgehogs tickled, and you crouched down to return the greetings. Though, the energy of your companions was so high you felt obligated to eventually sit down to properly enjoy the playtime altogether.

- It was a dispute to who was going to take a place on your lap, spiky friends playfully pushing one another or climbing over eachother's heads, all for a moment of your attention. It's difficult not to smile amongst such cute bantering, and just like that, the sad tears fallen from earlier that day were long forgotten, back under the shade of the courtyard's tree.

- One particular creature managed to climb all the way up your arms, resting on the same spot on your shoulder that it was before, the red colored urchin snuffled near your ear to call for your attention.

- —"was it you who called all your friends to play? Them seem unusually enthusiastic!"— you laughed, holding him close to your face —"you just made my day. Thank you little one, I needed that"—

- Riddle has never been so close to you as he now was in animal form, curiously, he even began to think the shape-shifting potion incident didn't feel as bad as he thought it would, after all. It isn't an everyday occurrence his crush would hold him so dearly as they were at that moment.

- "They don't even know it's me" he thought. And for a blissful moment he gave in, leaned closer, pressing a quick kiss or rather, the closest he could make from one in that form, before a sparkling magical cloud suddenly took over the place with a "poof!"

—"what..... RIDDLE?"—

>> Jack Howl, as one fluffy little dog [1.2k+ words]

- Yeah, Jack's already a wolf beastman. His unique magic allows him to fully transform at will. Shape shifting magic was no unusual experience, but the problem here lies on the fact that after drinking that potion, he found himself not being able to change back on command, and to make matters worse, he was no wolf. He was a white furred pomeranian.

- Ace had been laughing nonstop for about five minutes straight after the potion had its quick effect. Every once in a while he would manage to hardly breathe in and exclaim one of his meticulous and very helpful observations, varying along the lines of "DUDE NO WAY" or "YOU'RE JUST LIKE MY GRANDMA'S DOG??", and believe it or not, Jack have had enough by the time this second comment left his lab partner's mouth.

- Epel took responsability and offered him a stay on pomefiore for the time being, to keep an eye on him, while Ace looked for a viable solution with a now furious professor Crewel.

- Simply put, Jack had a significant rise in popularity during his short time stay at pomefiore. A giant wolf might not have been the dorm's favorite animal, but a petite walking furball? It was much more like them. Though Epel made sure every single witness would promise not share a word with their dorm leader, as to not risk getting scolded or having Jack quicked out all by himself in such form.

- It was amogst the tumultuous gathering of students that the pomeranian heard a familiar set of footsteps approaching from far away, along with a voice that never failed from making his heart skip a beat. Epel seemed to notice too, and widened his eyes. —"Is that [name] I hear? ...but if they're here they must be accompanied by-!"—

- The lilac haired boy let go of the small dog, and quickly gestured for him to run and hide before Vil suspected of his presence. And run he did. Making sure to avoid getting stomped by passersby students, until he reached the flawlessly trimmed backyard gardens of pomefiore. With plenty of spots to hide and no company around, Jack made himself comfortable in one of the gazebo's chairs, planning on staying still, unbothered, until Ace would get back soon enough with an antidote.

- Though it did not take long enough for his peace to get disturbed once more. —"Hey buddy! What are you doing here?"— a voice spoke from behind him.

- Jack jumped in place, startled, provoking a short giggle from the one who called, you, who smiled oh so softly at his adorable new form. But how could you not? Besides Grim, such cute creatures were not often seen wandering around school grounds. Jack's current presentation was an unusual but very welcomed break from the ordinary NRC life. Although the wolf himself couldn't disagree more. To even look like that was too much of an embarrassing thought. However, in a more positive note, at least his crush didn't know it was him the pomeranian in question!

- —"You think I haven't seen you running away from me and Vil?"— you asked, extending a hand near Jack's nose as a way to say hello —"Don't worry, I won't let him kick you out of the dorm. Somebody needs to take care of you, after all. Do you have an owner?"—

- His ears twitched in response. Your tone was so gentle, he began to wonder if he should keep up with the pet dog act just for a liiittle while longer. It certainly did not feel bad to have his crush's attention solely on him for once, and in this train of thought, he leaned closer to your offered hand to greet you back.

- In a matter of minutes, you and puppy Jack had turned best pals for the very second time in your NRC lives. Playing around the garden until the sun began to set, no one came to bother or to take the fluffy intruder away. Seemed like Ace was having a hard time trying to find a cure, but again, staying in this form for just some moments more certainly wouldn't hurt, right?

- You asked for a second to rest on a nearby bench, and Jack followed behind, sitting by your side with his tail wagging frantically as you two admired the golden hues of the sunset rays. A moment of silence turned into minutes, that turned into what felt like an hour. The sky turned dark and stars began to shine through the clouds. Pomeranian Jack tried to start a conversation topic but only letting out a whimper instead, immediately catching your attention back to him. You sighed. —"you appeared just in the right time, you know? I needed this break from my responsibilities"— you pat his head in thanks, and he eyed you in curiosity.

- Your expression seemed lonely this time, almost distant as you gazed up the crescent moon. He then finally noticed, by looking more attentively into your features, there was a distinguishable layer of concealer covering some unusual dark circles under your eyes. You looked tired. Not from the time you spent playing together that evening, no... something else. Jack traced back that day's events. You were almost never wandering around pomefiore, let alone with Vil of all people. Was the makeup perhaps courtesy of the dorm leader's? You seemed to be wearing products that strangely resembled his, after all.

- Upon noticing your companion's curious and concerned stare, you smiled and as if reading his mind, explained —"Vil seemed worried about me too, that's how I got here."— you chuckled lightly at the situation, a bit funny how a lost puppy got you to open up about your feelings so easily —" it's nothing serious. Just so many things happening lately... it was draining my energy out"—

- Without many ideas on how to comfort you without words, Jack rested his head on your lap with a soft sigh. He then felt a hand on top of his head again, followed by a stifled laugh: —"But it doesn't matter now. I made a new friend today! So thanks for that.."—

- He looked up as you leaned in closer, playfully blowing a kiss from a distance. But that little action was enough to make him panic flustered beyond words. So much so that he incidentally got up too fast and suddenly enough to bump the top of his head into your face, right near your lips. A glittery magical cloud emerged with a "poof!"

- Meanwhile Vil, who was watching the garden by the far away window, nearly choked on his tea with the sight of Jack transforming back into his original form, appearing out of nowhere from that cloud, just to fall on top of a very confused and startled you.

- —"See, Vil? I told you! It was Jack all along!"— Epel beamed by the dorm leader's side, but only getting an exasperated sigh from him in return:

- —"Regardless. You and your little friends still got some explaining to do."— he got up from his seat, heading to the garden's main gates —"And tell that Trappola boy he's going to help you clean all the dog fur from the lounge's coutch today still"—

>> Jamil Viper, as the meanest cat ever [1.4k+ words]

- Jamil was convinced he'd had to wait a million years before he could ever catch a break from easily avoidable, headache-inducing misfortunes taken place on that cursed magical college.

- —"Aw, come on! Don't look at me like that... It could have been much, much worse than this"— scarabia's dorm leader flashed an apologetic smile, as if it was going to fix the shape shifting problem at hand. —"Not saying this scenario is particularly good, but- I mean, what if you were to become a snake instead? I'd lose sight of you in no time and you could be taken away by a hungry bird! Oh, I don't mean to say you'd become a snake specifically because of your original appearance or personality or past actions or morals or-"—

- The black furred feline could only roll his eyes at the incessant rambling of his housewarden. If Jamil could talk, he'd interrupt Kalim before he'd burst out more painfully honest and indirect call outs aimed at him, that the oblivious boy would surely regret from letting out once he realized that maybe, some truths were best kept inside his head. But that's what usually happens anyway. Jamil was too sick and tired at that point to feel offended by them at all.

- But oh well. Simply another nuisance to get on his way of boring daily tasks. Nothing that haven't already happened before. It's just that being transformed into a cat was a more extreme case, and he wasn't so sure of how to even work on "babysitting" duties with paws intead of hands. Kalim took notice, and offered himself to spend the day with the alchemy professor until he found a viable solution to the problem. Jamil only nodded in boredom as the housewarden turned to rambling all distracted again, this time with a very much annoyed professor Crewel.

- As that went on in the backgroud, something suddenly caught the vice housewarden's attention from outside of the classroom: a desperate Ace Trappola walking in anxious circles around the corridor, staring at the floor below his feet, and mumbling something under his breath that only the sensitive ears of a cat could clearly pick up on: apparently you have gone missing. And it visibly made the first year unspeakably worried.

- Jamil approached Ace, careful enough not to be stomped by him unaware. The red haired boy only took a half glance at his direction, and let out a stressed grunt: —"Not now, Grim. I'm trying to think where to look for [name]. Please don't bother if all you're gonna do is ask for tuna!"— the red haired sat by the corridor's bench in defeat —"Was it something I said? Probably was. They wouldn't be avoiding me otherwise..."—

- Quickly the feline made sense of the situation, and annoyed, agressively tapped him on the ankle as a way to say "idiot" , getting a startled "HEY!" from the boy in response, and then immediatelly took off to search for his misssing friend. Yes, you spent a lot of time with the rest of the first years, but Jamil knew you better than anyone else around. He already had an idea of where you could have possibly ran off to.

- And surely enough, there you were. In one of the less frequented classrooms in school grounds, hidden comfortably in the corner where no one could bother, or even see you at first glance. A nice place to stay for some alone time.

- However, before stepping in and calling for your attetion, he hesitated. Jamil had been so irritated over the possibility of Ace upsetting you, he hadn't even considered maybe all you needed at that moment was to be given some space to breathe. A pang of guilt hit him right away. What was he thinking? Assuming he could comfort you at any given situation just like that? he wished that was even a possibility.

- As a servant, he had the skills and knowledge to do almost anything his work could ever ask of him. Nothing was too much of a challenge, he always solved eventual difficulties in one way or another. But adding his secret crush to the equation was a recipe to near disaster, at least in his head. A hundred possibilities ran through him, none of which he was minimally satisfied with, and it was scary. Scary to think his near perfect problem solving skills were finally failing to meet expectations, no less expectations from the only person he truly, deeply cared about, not due to obligation this time, but to the only thing in his life that strayed away from such word.

- "If I have nothing helpful to say, better not even try" he thought to himself, and turned on his heels to leave, mentally frowing over this unwelcomed feeling of weakness taking over any last bit of logical thinking he still held at that point. But not until he heard a "hello? who's there?" coming from you that he figuratively slapped himself in the face. He got too caught up in uncertainty. It was too late to run away.

- The cat meowed from behind the desk, and you widened your eyes upon hearing it. Grim doesn't meow. What in the world was a kitty doing inside the classroom? Maybe it was professor Trein's pet companion? But when it showed up from its hiding spot, you could tell it was a cat of an unfamiliar appearance. It blinked at you and you blinked at him, both unsure of what to do at that moment.

- —"kitty.."— you mumbled in awe, face lighting up in interest. You silently extended a hand on its direction, waiting patiently for the creature to approach.

- "So they like cats, huh?" Jamil wondered for a few seconds before taking the risky decision to approach, placing his head under your offered palm, and watched your eyes sparkle in glee "they don't know it's me anyway. what harm could this do?"

- The silent classroom was now filled with light laughter. In that form, anything Jamil did earned a fit of giggles from you. He was just too cute! And to be fair, usually stray cats weren't nearly half as caring or approachable as he was being, so having one so cuddly play with the cloth of your uniform and constantly ask for more caressing was almost the best thing to ever happen to you in that school.

- The vice housewarden couldn't lie, he enjoyed all the attention he was getting from you, and better yet the fact of how easy his goal of cheering you up really had been, even if all he could provide was a mere passing distraction from your actual troubles. At least you were smiling, genuinely.

- —"cats are good at reading people's energies, or so I've heard."— you spoke up, taking the purring furball in your arms —"is this how you found me?"—

- Jamil slowy closed his eyes as a response, and you took it as a yes, smiling brigthly in return —"thank you"—

- But as all good things do, they tend to pass in a blink of an eye. The room's door slammed open, making both of you jump in place, the feline huddled closer to your arms with his ears down and fur standing up at the sight of the people who came into view. Ace and Kalim. The last people on earth he'd want to see ruining that moment between you two.

- —"There he is!"— the first year shouted, pointing at the cat, and then later widening his eyes in realization of who was holding it. —"and [name]... man, I've been looking everywhere for you! why did you--"—

- Jamil hissed as the two boys approached, and tried to back away as much as he could from Kalim's hands, desperately wanting to hide in your arms and getting back to being alone with you again. There wasn't much space left to withdraw though, in the corner of the room, Jamil drew back until he accidentally went head first into yours, and then a thick magical mist quickly took over the scene, blocking everyone's sight for a moment before the clouds dispersed enough to reveal Jamil back into his original form, sitting on your lap, hugging you tighly with a furious expression aimed at the intruders. He opened his mouth expecting a hiss or meow to come out of it, but instead was surprised with his own voice blurting an "Ah--"

- He could feel the heat rising up to his face, and for a moment he wished Kalim would drop another shape shifting potion to get him back into a form he could so freely ask for your hugs without any judgement or flustered overthinking.

#twst writing #twst #twst fanfic #twst x reader #[english works]#twisted wonderland #riddle rosehearts #jack howl #jamil viper #riddle rosehearts x reader #jack howl x reader #jamil viper x reader #No one's gonna know I chose a cat for Jamil just so his name could be Jamew #never expect fast updates from me

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