#twisted wonderlan fanfic

[oepionie]

— "AND WHILE YOU SLEEP, I'LL BE SCARED." overblot gang 

SYNOPSIS: Your lover waking up from a horrific nightmare and scrambling to listen to your heartbeat so he can make sure you're still alive.

⊹ [ cw ] — angst, hurt/comfort, overblot, blood, glass shards injury, anxiety/panic attacks, insecurities, mentions of death, crying (them)◞

⊹ [ tags ] — ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP. GN! READER | riddle tears his room apart, leona feels immense guilt, caring leona, azul having a panic attack, vil being an absolute mess, vil speaks german, shy idia, jamil injures himself accidentally, jamil calls you 'albi' (my heart), malleus immortality angst ◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.5k+◞

✩—RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

It's far past his scheduled time for sleep.

A bitter taste is bubbling up in his throat and frothing against his tongue. Riddle doesn't know what this wretched feeling is. All he knows is that he's terrified. Perhaps that's why he allows himself to disturb your sleep, the maddening emotions slamming against his head becoming too much for him to handle.

"I-I apologize for waking you," Riddle rasps, slipping into your shared bed and burrowing his face deep into the crook of your neck. His breaths come out in quick and fleeting puffs, heart thrumming hard against his ribs.

In the dimness of the night, the myriad of mangled and torn-up books that were strewn and flung about the room in a frenzied fury could hardly be seen. Your gaze flickered down to your lover. The tips of Riddle's fingers were a blistering raw red, his once well-groomed nails now visibly chipped at its ends.

With a touch of your tender hands, you pull him down to rest against your chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I–I just…I recalled the incident of my overblot and how I hit you with that blast. H-How you nearly—" Clamping his eyes tight, Riddle dared not to finish that sentence. The boy trembles in your arms—ears fervently straining to hear the steady and melodic thump of your heart, a melody he feared he would never hear again.

A choked sob tumbles from his lips and your chest aches.

"…I'm sorry," was his quiet cry. "I'm so sorry."

✩—LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Peacefully fast asleep, your back was nestled snug against the Leona's chest while his firm bicep protectively curled around your ribs.

Over the course of your relationship, Leona began to realize how much he loved having you in his arms. You were at peace when you slept, untouched and untainted by the stress and pain you dealt with every day.

He crept his free hand up your torso, cold fingers slipping underneath your shirt, skimming up your stomach, and settling above the spot on your chest where your heartbeat danced vividly against his touch. Leona splays his fingers out more, fixated on how the thrum of your life felt against his skin.

It was a daily struggle to keep his emotions at bay, ensuring that his strong feelings and magic wouldn't hurt you again. The nightmarish phantom of his blot still haunts him to this day. That wrath was an ugly and hideous beast he wished to keep locked away in the depths of his mind for all of eternity.

Yet, at the soft beat of your delicate heart against his sullied hands—Already, Leona finds himself wavering, uncharacteristically weak.

An overpowering mix of stress and strain washes over him, pooling up into watery blobs and flowing down his cheeks in faint streaks as he silently wept.

"Fuck," Leona curses, pulling your dozing form closer to him. "Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this."

✩—AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

The torment of nightmares was far worse than he remembered, but this dread he felt was unquestionably different, pressing in on him like a frigid cold. The icy sensation seeps into the marrows and dips of his flesh—his sole respite being your touch, which both warmed and scorched at his skin.

"Angelfish." Azul breathlessly sputtered, blindly patting around the bed in search of your body.

Through the fringes of his blacked out vision, he could barely make out your worried drowsy visage. This caused him to panic, pulse picking up, but you were quick to soothe him—reaching a hand out to press against his cheek. Finally finding you, the octo-mer pulled you towards his side of the bed, engulfing you in a tight hug.

Azul tried to stop the flood of tears that layered his face, but your soft lips strewn with kisses on his skin seemed to further elicit his unceasing cries. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Azul. I'm here." You whisper, cradling his face, but he was inconsolable. The octo-mer desperately clawed at your shirt as he pressed his ear deeper against your chest, practically melting into you.

The throbs of your heart echoed through his anguished mind, providing him with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't go….Please…" Azul sputters, body shaking from every deep, labored heave of his burning lungs, "Please."

✩—JAMIL VIPER:

A strangled scream awoke you from your abyssal sleep, your bleary eyes ripping open to dart here and there around the room in a manic frenzy. The ensuing shattering smash of a glass further threw your thoughts into disarray.

"Jamil?!"

Your lover had stumbled off of the bed, now kneeling against the wooden flooring with the bedsheets pooling around his hips, sheets damp from the shattered glass of water on the floor.

A bloody hand clenched at his palpitating heart, glass shards digging into his skin, as his lungs fought to maintain his breathing.

You sprang from the mattress and skidded in his direction, but Jamil scrambled away from you.

"Albi, no. There's glass. Stay away. You're going to get hurt," Jamil stammered. Holding a shaky hand up, the boy avoided your gaze.

"Jamil—" Brows pinched together, you eased towards him. "I'm not going to get hurt, don't worry."

You stepped over the shards of crystal glass with caution and made your way past, "See?"

Once you were within his reach, Jamil caved in and slowly brought you into his arms—careful with his injury. He could feel the distant sting of the cuts on his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Leaning down, he lay his head over your heart. Even though the batter of your heart was frantic and panicked, it somewhat provided a steady beat for him to follow as he worked to untangle the complexities in his thoughts. Your lover sunk against you, anchoring himself against the warmth your body radiated.

✩—IDIA SHROUD:

As the minutes pass, Idia was rapidly losing every meagre amount of confidence he managed to scrape together.

"Idia…honey? Please get up." You croon, running a hand through his flaming hair.

Though it seemed as if he didn't hear anything—Idia kept his head glued against your beating chest, refusing to get up from his position on the floor.

He's been kneeling before you for so long that the rough fabric of his pants burned and skidded against the tender skin of his knees, sending excruciating stings along the threads of his flesh.

"I—No…N-No…I can't." Idia's lips quiver, eyes glossing over as he diverts his gaze. The weight of his arms lay heavy against your legs, elbows resting by your knees while his dull nails dug into the skin at the back of your thighs.

"Why's that?" You whisper.

Idia shut his eyes. The flash of numerous dreams and nightmares he's suffered at the hands of his own demented twisted memories clouded his mind. It did not help that they were all molded out of his own self-inflicted pessimism...cruel and unforgiving. A reason as to why he couldn't bear to look at you tonight, not when the image of your mangled body was still fresh on his mind.

"I-I'm s-sor-sorry…I ca-can't get up…I need to…” he stumbles for words, his breathing picking up its pace. "I need to…need to know you're okay."

✩—VIL SCHOENHEIT:

"Vil…" You worriedly murmur, pressing your lips against his mascara-stained cheeks, not minding the bitter aftertaste it left lingering in your mouth.

Laying atop the plush silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the dorm leader's eyes were ripped wide open as his chest heaved viciously. It was quite a rare sight as your lover lay vulnerable before you, heart bared open.

Oh, he was an absolute mess.

Dark streams of teary mascara ran down Vil's cheeks, his uniform wrinkled and his golden hair splayed out everywhere—unbound from its braids and tangled up.

The grip of his arms around your midsection tightens as he pressed you up closer against him, his head resting atop your chest. At the sound of your heartbeat, Vil allowed himself to unwind and let your affections banish away even the most ominous of his thoughts.

"Liebling…Es tut mir ehrlich Leid—" Vil rasps, his mother tongue dripping like honey from his lips as he suddenly found it difficult to speak the language he was so accustomed to every day.

Hushing him, you press a fleeting kiss against his brow line and Vil clamps his red-rimmed eyes shut, ceasing to say anything more.

"Hush now. Rest, my prince." You press a gentle kiss to his temple and brush the frizzes of his blonde hair away from his face.

A small smile quirks on his lips as he feels his stomach fluttering from the nickname. The look in his eyes is softly lit, warm like a candle.

✩—MALLEUS DRACONIA:

One day, Malleus knows, you will be nothing more than wilted and withered ash.

It was a truth that wrapped around him like shackling chains—tearing, whipping and lashing against his raw, bare skin. No matter how hard he pulled, scratched, and screamed at it, the chains remained.

The clanging and grating iron truth about reality cannot be so easily pushed away. Human lives are fickle, and you would inevitably leave him.

Once you do, the fae prince knows he will be a mere shadow of his former self, a wretched and lonesome creature awaiting and longing for his lover who was no more than a ghost of his fleeting memories.

"I apologize for the disturbance, my treasure."

And yet, Malleus presses his hand firmly against your beating heart. A distant marching beat serving as his reminder that you were very much alive and well.

"I truly apologize." Malleus heaves, hands clamouring against your collarbone.

Although thick tension and silence still hung heavy in the air, the dragon basked in the warmth and feel of your flushed skin, a bitter smile gracing his lips as he lay beside you on the bed.

"Sweet dreams, beastie…"

—TAGLIST:

꒰ ♡🧷: if you want to be tagged for ALL of my works, comment here!

@keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisonioushearts @kawaiipotatoghost @ramvuda @sweeneyblue1 @the-lost-anime-dad @kyraxiyn   @skadi-winterfell @mushroomchaos101 @rainybeebs @taruruchi @fluffimemes @awkwardspontaneity @phoneandchips @gussuri

[astro-stars]

CHAPTER 3 : Mirror, Mirror

Crowley’s expression shifted, the mask of irritation slipping for the briefest moment to reveal something else—surprise? Confusion? The flicker was gone too quickly for Yuu to be sure. 

“Come again?” His voice was tight, controlled, but there was an unmistakable edge beneath the polished veneer. 

The mask in the mirror remained still, its hollow sockets unyielding. Its voice, however, grew firmer, the resonance of its words carrying undeniable weight. “I sense not a spark of this world’s magic. The color, the shape—all are unfamiliar. Therefore, she is suited for no dormitory.” 

The hall erupted into chaos. Whispers transformed into a rising storm of voices, crashing against the vaulted ceilings like an unrelenting tide. Yuu’s chest tightened as the crowd’s scrutiny intensified, their words rising into a crescendo of speculation. 

“She?” Crowley repeated, his voice low and sharp, cutting through the cacophony like a blade. The single word hung in the air, heavy and demanding. His gaze bore down on her, a mixture of disbelief and calculation. 

Yuu could barely breathe. The weight of his focus was suffocating, amplified by the countless pairs of eyes now boring into her from every corner of the room. The students leaned in, their faces alight with shock and curiosity. 

“A FEMALE?” one voice shouted above the din. 

“Why is one here?” 

“More like how?” 

The murmurs surged into a fever pitch, a chaotic symphony of incredulity and intrigue. Yuu felt like prey surrounded by a pack of predators, their stares piercing her like arrows. The mask’s revelation had shattered the delicate balance of the hall, leaving confusion and astonishment in its wake. 

Crowley’s composure cracked further. His flamboyant air vanished, replaced by raw disbelief etched across his features. “An ebony carriage would never select a girl!” he exclaimed, his voice ricocheting off the walls. His hand tightened on the rope of shadows holding Grim, who now hung limp, his wide eyes reflecting the shock of the moment. 

Turning to Yuu, Crowley’s gaze sharpened, a storm of emotions churning behind his golden eyes—shock, disbelief, and the faintest hint of accusation. “In one hundred years, there has not been a single mistake in student selection,” he said, his voice quieter now but no less intense. “So why in the world…” His words trailed off, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized her face, as if searching for some hidden truth buried within her. 

Yuu’s heart pounded furiously, each beat echoing in her ears like a drum. She felt the walls closing in, the room shrinking around her. The stares, the whispers, the unrelenting weight of the moment pressed down on her chest until it was almost impossible to breathe. 

She had known this would happen—she had read the scene a hundred times, was even expecting it. But experiencing it firsthand, with every nerve alight and every eye on her, was entirely different. The tension coiled around her like a serpent, squeezing tighter with every second. 

And then, with a sudden burst of energy, Grim broke free. “Mgh!” With a gasp of relief, he slipped from the shadows, the rope of love falling away like a forgotten accessory. The room fell silent once more, the students’ astonishment redirected at the blue-flamed cat who had just dramatically interrupted the ceremony. “Pah! Then I’ll take it’s place!” He spat out the words with a dramatic flourish, his fur ruffling as he landed on all fours. 

Crowley’s eyes narrowed, the line between his brows deepening. He turned to Yuu, his voice a low growl. “What is the meaning of this?” 

Grim strutted forward, tail flicking with confidence. “She can’t do magic, but I can! Just let me show you my fire!” The blue flame in his ear grew brighter, his chest puffing out in challenge. 

Yuu watched in horror as the blue-flamed cat opened his mouth, the fire building up in his throat like a living entity. 

“Stay right there, raccoon!” Crowley’s command was firm, his voice echoing in the vast space. The room grew eerily quiet again, the tension thickening like a fog. The students, recognizing the seriousness of the situation, took a collective step back. 

Grim’s eyes narrowed, his blue flame ear pulsing with excitement. “Unlike that human, I can use magic and I’m not a girl!” He declared, his fur ruffling with bravado. “Let me in the school instead!” 

The room tensed. The dorm leaders shifted in their positions, their gazes shifting from the fiery feline to the trembling girl. Riddle’s expression grew dark, his sharp eyes darting from Grim to Yuu and back again. He sensed the danger, the potential for this to spiral out of control. His voice rang out, clear and commanding. “Everyone, get down!” 

The students moved with surprising speed, dropping to the floor like rag dolls released from their strings. The air grew thick with anticipation, the silence a palpable force that seemed to hold its breath. Only Yuu remained frozen, her eyes locked on the cat that had thrown her into this chaos. 

With a roar, Grim spewed a stream of blue fire. The flames shot across the room, their path erratic and wild. The mirrors reflected the inferno, multiplying the chaos a hundredfold. The heat washed over Yuu, but her attention was elsewhere. 

The fire hit the curtains first, the velvety fabric coming to life with a hungry crackle. The flames spread rapidly, climbing the drapes, latching onto the ancient tapestries. The air grew thick with smoke, the smell of burning fabric acrid and suffocating. The room transformed into a hellish tableau, the mirrors reflecting the fire’s destructive dance. 

Yuu watched, transfixed by the horror, as the flames grew closer. They licked at the hem of her robe, but she felt nothing. It was as if she were trapped in a nightmare, unable to move or scream. Time seemed to slow down, each heartbeat echoing like a death knell. 

And then, as if pulled from the abyss by some unseen force, she saw Kalim—his eyes wide with alarm, his usually stoic face twisted in a comical grimace. “Waaaah! Hottttt! My butt’s on fire!” he yelped, his robes aflame. The absurdity of his words cut through the terror, bringing a brief flicker of something else—almost a smile—to her lips. But it was gone as quickly as it came. 

Her instincts took over, and she rushed to his side, the fire’s warmth beckoning her closer. The fabric of her robe remained untouched by the flames, a small but profound miracle she had no time to question. With trembling hands, she beat out the flames, feeling the heat against her palms but no pain. It was like watching a scene from the game play out before her eyes, but this time, she was a part of it. 

The room grew more frenzied as the fire spread. The dorm leaders watched, exasperated if anything. Yet amidst the chaos, she felt a strange calm—or perhaps it was simply numbness. Her heart thudded in her chest, but she couldn’t hear it over the roar of the fire. 

And then there was Leona, the overly attractive catboy who seemed to find the entire ordeal beneath him. He leaned lazily against a column, emerald eyes flicking over the scene with a bored scoff. “What a pain,” he muttered, his deep voice a stark contrast to the frantic shouts and crackling flames around him. His tail twitched in irritation, the only indication he was paying attention at all. 

Vil, poised and pristine even amidst the growing chaos, arched a perfect brow. His violet eyes landed on Leona, glinting with something that could only be described as amused disdain. "Hmm?” he mused, his lips curling into a smirk. “Aren’t you good at hunting? Doesn’t that little furball look like a nice, plump snack?” 

Leona’s ears flicked back, his tail swishing with slow irritation. “If you’re so eager to see me in action, why don’t you go play with the fire yourself?” His words were sharp, but his posture didn’t change, as if even arguing was too much effort. 

Vil rolled his eyes, the motion as fluid and theatrical as his every gesture. “Oh, please. Like I’d waste my time on that pathetic display.” His voice carried an edge of disdain that cut through the crackle of the flames, though he made no move to intervene. 

The fire roared higher, licking hungrily at the tapestries. The orange and blue glow cast long, distorted shadows across their faces, adding an almost surreal air to the tension. 

Azul stepped forward, breaking the verbal sparring with a calm, measured presence. His almost silver hair gleamed in the firelight, catching the movement as he adjusted his glasses. “Mr. Crowley, if I may?” His tone was smooth and composed, soothing against the backdrop of chaos. 

Riddle’s lips pressed into a thin line, his hand already gripping his pen wand thing. His sharp gaze cut toward the rampaging cat before locking onto Crowley’s face. With a curt nod, he stepped forward. “Laws of the Queen of Heart: Number 23 ‘One shall never bring a cat into a festival.’” he declared, his voice crisp and authoritative. 

Grim, oblivious or uncaring, turned toward Riddle with a smug grin. “What, you think you can stop me? I’m just getting started!” His flames flared brighter, the blue light casting long, eerie shadows across the room. 

Riddle’s expression didn’t waver. With a flourish of his wand, he snapped, “Off with your head!” 

A glowing red collar materialized around Grim’s neck, cutting off his magic with a harsh, resounding snap. The blue flames vanished instantly, leaving only smoke and the faint scent of charred fabric in the air. Grim let out a startled yelp, clawing at the collar with frantic paws. “What’s this?! Get it off! Get it off!” 

The room fell eerily silent, the sudden absence of fire leaving an almost deafening void. Riddle’s pen???lowered slightly as he glared down at Grim, his voice icy. “You being a cat means you’ve broken the rule. I shall have you leave at once.” 

At that, Grim looked positively offended. “I’m not a cat!!” he huffed, his tail puffing up indignantly. “I’ll burn this collar right up and—” He paused, blinking down at the glowing red band around his neck. “E-eh? I can’t use my fire!” 

Riddle’s lips curled into a small, triumphant smirk. “Hmph! You won’t be using any magic until I remove that collar. Just like an ordinary cat.” 

Grim gaped at him, his ears flattening in dismay. “Wh-what?! I’m not some pet!!” 

Riddle’s expression hardened, his gaze as sharp as his words. “Don’t worry, I’d never keep a pet like you.” He crossed his arms, his posture as rigid and precise as his tone. “Besides, I’ll take it off anyway—once you’re thrown out.” 

Grim sputtered, his blue flames flickering weakly in his ears, but the magic remained suppressed by the collar. “Thrown out?! You can’t just kick me out! I’m the greatest mage you’ve ever seen!” 

Riddle raised an eyebrow, his expression unimpressed. “Great mages don’t set ceremonial halls on fire.” 

Crowley's sharp golden eyes narrowed on Grim before darting to Yuu. “Enough of this nonsense!” he barked, his voice cutting through the lingering murmurs like a blade. “This entire fiasco is a testament to why proper order must be maintained. And why you,” he pointed sharply at Grim, then jabbed his finger toward Yuu, “need to explain yourselves. Immediately.” 

Yuu’s breath caught as all eyes turned to her again, their weight bearing down on her like a physical force. She felt the heat creeping up her neck, her palms clammy with anxiety. Her mind scrambled for something, anything to say. 

“I... h-he’s mine!” she squeaked, her voice so quiet it barely reached the nearest ears. Only Crowley and the dorm leaders standing closest seemed to catch it. Her cheeks burned crimson as she realized she’d misspoken but had to go with it gestured feebly toward Grim. “It’s not my fault this time!” 

Grim’s jaw dropped in outrage, his ears flattening as he whipped around to glare at her. “Yours?! Since when am I your anything, huh?” he yowled, his collar jingling slightly with the force of his movements. 

Riddle’s gaze sharpened, the corners of his mouth twitching into a disapproving frown. “Claiming ownership of this creature hardly excuses the chaos he’s caused,” he said crisply, crossing his arms. 

Azul’s silver-blue eyes glimmered with intrigue, his lips quirking into a calculating smile. “My, my,” he murmured. “Quite the dynamic duo, aren’t they?” 

Leona yawned loudly, his tail flicking dismissively behind him. “Tch, this is a waste of time,” he muttered. “She’s just some clueless herbivore who doesn’t know what she’s doing.” 

Vil raised an eyebrow, his gaze flitting between Yuu and Grim. “If she’s taking responsibility for this walking disaster, she’d better prove she can handle it,” he said, his tone sharp as a blade. 

Yuu opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. What could she possibly say? She didn’t belong here, didn’t have magic, didn’t have any of the answers they were looking for. 

TAGLIST: @soramcduckahyucky @lunasmisosoup @brights-place

[tsukikoayanosuke]

@mcpiejeff27 made this for me and I just-

[yomogi-mogi-mochi]

Pygmalion (III)

Pairings: Rook/(Pygmalion) MC// Idia/MC (Platonic)

Summary: You were frequently told that your career as a renowned sculptor did not match your dull and less than colorful personality. With your cybernetic hands, you carve the lives and deaths of those long gone‒ producing pieces which have been held in both technical and emotional high regard, dubbing you with the title “Pygm.AI.lion” despite your human heart and brain. When you accidentally still the usually flamboyant archer into silence after he comes across you working in your atelier‒ you find that you’ve become a victim to one of his ceaseless stalkings. Though, you’ve been prey long enough to know how hunt the huntsman himself.

Notes: Sorry this took as long as it did lmao I was sleep deprived then I was in 2 separate 18 hour (what were supposed to be) naps lol. Ah the human body and its wonders.

Was revisiting Paradise Lost recently and I was like wait did I accidentally create Jesus and or Lucifer imagery????? Omg. I also posted a Lilia/Reader oneshot based on the myth of Dullahan (Beloved Thy Name) ao3 link is here / tumblr link.

A lot of philosophy stuff again because I am unfortunately an INTJ with a type 5w4 enneagram AND a Sagittarius (Rook, Idia, and I have the same sign lmao) so triple whammy I love intellectualizing everything. Another very very sweet ol slow burn but I swear romance is in the air

Enjoy! Comments, reblogs, and likes cherished as always (о´∀`о)

CW: Nothing much

AO3 Link Here.

Masterlist

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 (Here) // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6

——————————————————

Rook felt a bit feverish after that critique‒ his eyes swimming as they traced the image of your sculpture inside his mind, melting slowly into the painting of clarity he had been scrutinizing more of lately. Slowly, he gathered his camera and his picture‒ searching for the points you had brought up in your critique, before staggering to his locker in the art classroom, mindlessly sauntering into the hallways for his lunch period.

"You feel it, as it feels you." He couldn't help but to echo those words in your chest, with the clarity in your voice. That was what he had searched for more than anything‒ lucidity, precision, truth above all. And you had embodied its beauty in your sharp expression that gazed far beyond that clock, time, far far beyond anything‒ piercing those eyes through his picture, through his eyes with that arctic solidity. He felt so raw in your presence, even with the layers of fabricated kindness and dramatized passion that veiled his soul‒ protected it‒ you had managed to cut him open, seeing straight through his frantic, aimless fervor in an instant. It made him restless, he knew something inside him was urging with every fiber of its being, to chase and hunt it down‒ but that would mean bursting through, shattering the picture of clarity, of truth inside his mind that he loved dearly. No, it was something different than love, something greedy, the putrid scent of humanity.

He was so lost in thought, turning that clear picture in his mind over and over‒ seeing the blemishes that kept appearing with each interaction he encountered with you‒ that he smashed right into something solid.

"-You! Watch your‒ oh. Rook."

He tiredly gazed from the brim of his hat to see Vil’s face, twisted in slight concern. His lips quickly fashioned into a smile.

“Ah, roi de poison, apologies‒ I was lost in thought.” Vil continued to stare with narrowed eyes as Rook set down his lunch on the table, settling into his usual seat across from him.

"Did something happen today? This is…unlike you. It’s a bit unsettling." The dorm leader stabbed the colorful salad in front of him, bringing it to his lips. “If you need to retire early and skip the club meeting today, just tell me.”

“Non, non. Nothing to worry about kindest Vil. I was simply pondering how well the rehearsal was going to go today‒ are you not curious to how our cast will do on its first run through? I’ve been quivering with excitement to see the freshmen flourish!” With an excitable inflection cast onto his voice, Rook knew Vil would drop the question, sighing with feigned weariness, before engaging in friendly fire.

“There’s nothing to be excited about. It’s just some first year potatoes we have to whip into shape. Honestly, I’m getting tired thinking about it.” Vil said with that sigh Rook anticipated. The corner of his lips curled further, happy for moments of simplicity like this in the spiral of uncertainty you were pushing him into.

“That is what you have me for, roi de poison. And it’ll be fun to see the potential of these first years‒ I trust your instinct with these things.”

“Hm. It’s difficult to actualize the image I have in my head for them. These freshmen are too weak willed‒ but I’ll have to manage with what we’ve got.”

Rook hummed happily, glad that he could retreat into Le chasseur d’amour for just a while, carefully constructing his elation, and the smile on his face. Control, clarity‒ then truth came to him once more, shrouding him in an air of suffocating security.

—————————————————

You felt your joints whirring a bit from how swiftly you had been walking from the art studio to the cafeteria. These old knees, you thought, choosing a box of pomegranate juice from the vending machine, they’re not what they used to be.

“(Name)! Over here!”

Spotting a flaming blue head, raising his hand to beckon you over‒ you drifted towards the table consisting of mostly Heartslabyul students.

“Hello Ortho.” You scuffed the fire on his head, drinking the tart juice from the box in your hands. “Looks good, did Idia install a digestion program in you?” You towered over his lunch tray, glancing at the steaming vegetables and tender meat. You did miss eating once in a while, but you found it to be rather a chore than anything else, disturbing your work flow whenever your stomach growled during the period of your life when you still had a human digestion system. Besides, Dr.Krios had deemed it unnecessary, instead pouring his efforts into your Orpheus protocol and transferring your soul without the demerits of your magic.

“Yeah! Human food is as good as I remember. I can have big brother install one for you if you’d like?”

You shrugged. “No need, like I said, I’m getting too old for big repairs or updates like that.” The creaking in your knees still remained. “Are these your friends, little flame?”

The two young Heartslabyul students stared at the two of you in curiosity, listening in on your conversation. “Oh, (Name), this is Ace and Deuce. They’re the same first years as me‒ and Ace, Deuce, this is (Name), a transfer at our very own Ignihyde dorm!”

“Nice to meet you! I’m Ace Trappola, the smarter and more handsome of us two.” The redhead reached his hand towards you with a crooked grin, while the first year next to him sent a questionable glare. You shook it, the metal inside your skin rattling a bit when you did. “Whoa! Are you a robot or something like Ortho?? You were talking about updates n’ stuff and your arm is so heavy!”

You released the grip on your arm, feeling the weight of your own arm‒ was it that heavy from your human one? The increased strength allowed by the automation made it difficult to tell. “I am not a robot. A cyborg.”

“Ace‒ stop being so rude! Sorry about him, I’m Deuce, it’s nice to meet you.” You took the hand of the other student with blue-black hair, quietly seeing if you could feel the heaviness of your hand in his shake. He had a surprisingly strong grip and steady arm however, so it proved useless.

“Nice to meet you two. Thank you for taking care of Ortho.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your relationship between the two of you? You seem like you knew each other before you even transferred‒ are you another Shroud sibling?” Ace asked with a fist under his chin in contemplation.

“Ah no‒“

“What’s this? Do I hear something about another Shroud sibling?” Another, taller redhead popped his head into your view, which you stared down in silence. “Wait‒ no way! Aren’t you Pygm.AI.lion? I follow you on Magicam!”

Ace snapped his fingers, pointing it at your face. “Ahh! I remember thanks to Carter now! I thought I’ve seen you somewhere!”

“…Magicam?” Must be another piece of modern technology you weren’t caught up with. So much was happening these days, you wanted to live your life simply without having to be caught up with every little thing on this planet.

“Huh? Yeah‒ see?” He shoved his phone in your face, scrolling through a page with the account name “Pygm.AI.lion”. You definitely don’t recognize this page, nor do you remember making a ‘“Magicam” account‒ so you suspected this was the doing of Jupiter Enterprises, another money hungry attempt, using you to gather the funds to pay for the research on your own body, to further blot research conducted by the desperate scientists at S.T.Y.X. You hoped Idia would take over too put an end to the ceaseless testing. “You should totally follow me back and be friends! Since we’re in the same grade and all~”

“Ah, I don’t actually own this account. Probably my manager or someone else at Jupiter Enterprises. But those are my works, and that is indeed me‒ I’m just not too acquainted with social media.” There were various pictures of you next to your sculptures, wearing the same dulled expression you always adorned during tiring galas and gallery events. Had you known they were taking pictures, you definitely would have deepened your frown just to spite them. But you figured with the tech they had been rapidly producing over the years, it wouldn’t be hard to implant a camera in corners you couldn’t see‒ just as small and precise as the ones implanted in your eyes.

“Oh that’s too bad. But we can still be friends, can’t we? I’m Carter Diamond, third year and official sweetheart of the Heartslabyul dorm!” Though he sung that sentence with a carefree lightness in his voice, you could feel his eyes shifting at your stony expression, searching for your response. Mood maker was right, you observed‒ the movement in his eyes reminded you of Rook a bit‒ except it seemed like he was using that wit to read the room rather than letting the hunger in his eyes consume him. You shook the thought of that feathered stalker from your mind, taking the hand Carter reached out to you.

“Nice to meet you too. I’m (Name), I just transferred.”

“Oh? Where did you transfer from RSA? I have a few friends there‒ maybe they know you?”

“Not from another school‒ a black carriage arrived at the S.T.Y.X lab one day, and I found myself here like the rest of the students. So I guess less of a transfer, but I’m not sure what else to call it.”

“Whoa S.T.Y.X? Aren’t they super secretive or something? Wait‒ S.T.Y.X is the one that made you then?”

“They did make my cybernetic enhancements. But I still have my human heart and brain, so depending on how you see it I suppose you could or couldn’t say they made me.”

“Wow I’m really getting the inside scoop here!” He laughed “They totally framed you as a robot‒ even in your Magicam profile! Oh‒“ He glanced at his phone. “I godda get going early to make up a test‒ I’m already on thin ice with Trein‒ nice to meet you Pygm.AI.lion!” Waving his hand, he dashed towards the double doors of the cafeteria.

You turned back to Ortho, taking the last sips of your Pomegranate juice. “That reminds me, Ortho. Are there any Art Clubs or Robotics Clubs here? Headmage said I had to join something by the end of the week.”

“Hm…I’m not finding either of those in the school’s database…But the science club is the “anything” club‒ you can join that! Or…” He tapped his chin. “Oh! You can come with me to the film studies club today! We’re actually in need of set designers and Vil would be grateful for a S-class sculptor like you, (Name)! And you can watch me perform today‒ it’s our first rehearsal!”

“Hm, that seems entertaining. It’s been centuries since I’ve seen a play in person. I look forward to your performance, Ortho.”

Ace and Deuce exchanged surprised looks, before the redhead spoke. “Uh..D-did we hear you correctly? Centuries..? How old are you exactly?”

Ah, right. The whole time thing. That thought left a distaste in your mouth, reminded of the clocks that had descended its image upon you today. All those around you were experiencing life at a different pace, all at different points in their path towards a blissful rest you would never know. The arms on your clock moved languidly, much too large to function “the correct way” that clocks ought to‒ in accordance to the beat of the human heart. Your body felt like that weary clock‒ much too tall, much too heavy for the way your heart would reach out to the pulse of other humans, and sink into the brilliant, cindering explosion that was a human’s lifespan. That blazing light you held at multiple points in your life was all too bright, too much, blistering against your brittle body that was weighed with eternity‒ so you took it into your hands, burning, imbuing it into hard marble. Even with your magic, that fire was too wonderful to be able to be ignited properly once more‒ dying out into a swift smoke when you craved that warmth again‒ leaving you cold, and dark. So you tried to let the turbulent waves of eternity wash over you, hoping it would eventually wear you down into nothing‒ a crude mimicry of a dazzling, human death.

“It..” You stopped, counting the centuries on your hands, but heaviness in your head made memories virtually irretrievable. “It’s been about six-hundred years, I think. I stopped counting a while ago, but I can give you a proper number with a history textbook. I was born exactly a hundred years before the City of Flowers was named.” You felt a little bad that you had stunned all those at the table to silence, quietly wishing Carter was here to pick up the mood.

“…You’re from the Shaftlands?” Deuce asked, breaking the awkward stillness.

You imagined your hometown, but you couldn't recall what it looked like, who your neighbors were, the smells, the dishes, the festivals. But your memory had not failed you when retrieving the memory of that night Dr.Krios found you, the smell of alcohol and bleach still stung your nose; the phantom sensation of broken marble embedded in your skin. After that night, there was nowhere for you to truly return to, reminisce with friends what flavors, smells, and experiences you tasted during your youth in that city‒ fuck. Your memory truly was failing you‒ you tried to remember your mother’s face, but all you could remember was a distant, muffled voice and nothing else. What did she look like‒ sound like again? What did you call her? Mama? Mother? Mom? You mentally shifted through multiple faces in your mind, aimlessly matching those words to them‒ but nothing. It almost brought you to tears, but you swallowed it with the tasteless, dryness in your mouth.

“I was, yes.” Was, everything always “was”. Nothing never “is” in the face of eternity.

You had been pushing it into a dark box inside your mind for a while‒ but you knew you would have to face this idea of eternity over and over again, like some Sisyphean bastard. It nestled in your heart as a part of it for a few centuries, growing as you attempted to replace the hole people would leave inside of it with anything‒ anger, apathy, madness, something you could grip and squeeze, searing your hand to preserve something of their fleeting existence. When their body and memories began to wilt however, so did that thing in your fist‒ allowing the hollowness of eternity to fester, eating away at the remnants of your heart. So for the last two centuries, you had retreated solely to the S.T.Y.X labs, severing almost any human connections to preserve the last fragments of yourself. But after six hundred years of repeated heartbreak‒ perhaps being alive was finally getting to you. You could feel the concerned gaze of the three first years, but your mind just drew complete darkness when searching for words to reassure them.

Suddenly, your mind suspended an image in your mind‒ a moment of clarity. You rolled the image in your mind, feeling out its shape with a delicate grip. You were surprised to reveal a picture of your own sculpture, however with the touches Rook made in his own photography. It was soft‒ like fresh laundry baking under the sun‒ green like a young spring sprout, pink like the color of a human heart. It mixed together in a muddled shade, swirling in a mess, a frenzy of colors. The humanity in that grotesque, fleshy shade made you look upwards again with clear eyes‒ reminded of your own sculpture from the first night he had made his way into your atelier. Rarely did you witness where the images in your head descended from‒ but you could clearly trace those words that came from him which parted the fog of your mind.

“Magnifique….With my human eyes, that is all I can see.”

You squeezed that image of his crystalline eyes, and muddy picture in your head‒ feeling every curve, tasting every color, delicately burning that picture inside your inhuman flesh‒ hoping no protocol would overwrite the wound it made. The breath you didn't realize you were holding came out in a slight cloud once you released from your tense stomach. Were you overheating? Gods, you felt feverish, though the metal of your skeleton still moved coolly inside your blot-packed tissue.

“(-me)? (Name)?” Ortho swung a hand in front of your face, eyes swimming with concern. “Are you okay? Lunch is over soon.”

You traced the engraving that picture made in your mind. “I’m alright. Thank you Ortho." A small smile graced your lips. You looked forward to the next image that would descend upon you, itching at the tender wound stored closely to remaining human flesh. Perhaps you could look at that divine inspiration through those striking viridian eyes before you let it possess you, but it was difficult to say if there was room for more humanity inside your rusting vessel. Still, the novelty excited you.

—————————————————

Ortho showed you around the parts of the school Rook hadn't had a chance to get to during your initial tour‒ giving you detailed explanations to each and every room before arriving at a door decorated with a white plastic plate, elegant black ink indicating it was reserved for the Film Studies Club. You swung the door open, allowing the younger Shroud brother to enter before you did.

“Ah, Monsieur Doll‒ oh! And Maître d’Ivoire, I didn’t know you were a fellow fan of the drama and beauty of theater! How wonderful‒ Vil will be thrilled.”

“Ortho suggested I join the stage set crew, but I’m only here to watch. I’m between the Science and the Film Research Club at the moment.”

“In that case I cannot possibly recommend only one! As a member of the Science Club it would be a joy for such an advanced cybernetic being like yourself to join our circle, however‒ as an assistant here at the Film Research Club, we could surely use your masterful skills in designing a truly spectacular set. Ah‒ I'm so torn‒ but the Science Club has so much potential for you, on the other hand ‒ “

“Rook! A word, please?”

“Ah‒ excuse me, mes amines, duty calls.”

You nodded mutely, unable to cram another word in the ceaseless string of sentences that flew out of his mouth. Bidding Ortho good luck with a pat on his head, you sat yourself in the auditorium, mumbling to yourself how you seemed to never be able to escape your feathered stalker.

"Alright‒ look bright first year potatoes‒ we've got a lot to work on! Rook! Where are those two third years that are supposed to be here for rehearsal today? I specifically asked him to come today for just a brief run through!" The inflection of his voice reminded you of an angry, chirping bird, one which Rook reflected with a mulled rumble.

"Désolé, Vil. It seems they're stuck in detention today…perhaps we can run the rehearsal without their parts?"

"No, no." The one you assumed was Vil shook his head. "These first years will be absolutely lost without the two leads for this scene‒ Rook, you'll stand in for Hyacinthus for this scene. And…" He threw his gaze right at you. "You. I don't know what you're doing lounging about‒ but be useful and play Apollo for today."

Briefly catching the smile quirked onto Rook's face, you sighed, pushing your body off of the seat, climbing the steps of the stage and taking the script pushed towards you from Vil's hands. You've never acted before, but it was like sculpting, right? Let life, let humanity, let death possess your cold body like a sublime ghost. Like your hands which carved that glory into glistening ivory, it was now your words which would shape a life out of the breath sucked into your lungs. You were quick to memorize the words on the page, embedding them in your throat as you took position by Vil's command.

"Lie, like this." He instructed. "Loosen your body Rook, lean against their body." Vil directed your bodies at the center of the stage, embracing each other under the dusty theater lights. Both you and Rook did as you were instructed, pressing warmth against warmth. You felt him squirm under your hardened fingertips that rested on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry if my cybernetics are uncomfortable. I could try to touch lighter, if you'd like."

His golden hair gleamed like ribbons in the light, swaying as he shook his head. "Non, you're quite soft." Despite being rocked by his deep breaths close to your own, those words felt distant‒ or perhaps a better word was "distancing", or something which attempted it. It didn't feel quite far, just muffled from your senses‒ still "soft" rang clearly in your mind like a bell, echoing the warmth it brought in your chest as many times as you allowed.

"You're comfortable, then?"

"Yes." His answer came like the wind, a quiet whisper, grazing lightly against your ears. You began, words at your throat bubbling, when Vil commanded action onto the scene. You let the image in your mind possess you.

"Your hair never quite lies flat, here." You touched the smoothed sheen of Rook's hair, plucking a golden strand out and feeling its silk between your fingers. "I don't think I've ever told you how I like it."

Rook pulled the script closer to his face. "You haven't."

“I should have." You let the strand go, seeing it fall gently into the bright curtain crowning his head. Its glow reminded you of gilded gold, glowing porcelain shining through from its age. "What about this? Have I told you what I think of this, just here." Reciting the script with your body, you tipped his head back, drifting your hands at the base of his throat, feeling the pulsing beat which echoed in its hollowness.

"No." He turned his body towards you, taking one slow step back to kneel below you. Sliding his script into another hand, he kept his gaze on it, before slinking his other hand into your gloves. The metal creaked inside your skin, and you thought to cringe at its harsh sound. But the tenderness of which he muffled that metallic squeal with his palms, wrapped lightly over your gloves, stopped you from hardening your face. "And have I spoken about this?" He lifts your hand above his eyes, you follow it, hoping to catch a glimpse of green pointed towards you. "Your hands calloused, from the divine poetry you pluck from your golden lyre." A pause. "Surely I haven't forgotten‒ tell me I did not, Apollo."

"You did not, my muse." You went to cup your hands around his, like the script instructed, but you found the paper to be in your hands‒ in the way. Without a second thought, you threw it out of your hands, somewhere out of your line of sight, its spine cracking harshly against the wooden theater floors. The words were engraved in your mind already. "And what of this‒ Hyacinthus‒ have I spoken of it?" You rested a knee to the ground like him, separating each of his fingers with your own.

“No.” His answer comes even quieter this time. You don't worry if his voice carries to others as it should during any rehearsal. The mountain in his throat bobbed, the muscles near his jaw shivering.

"There is this too." You reached a cold hand towards his face‒ still the anxiety of your harsh body instilled in your mind. The skin round your metal bones, to the organs sitting, packed in your torso were all made with the violence of human desire. You searched his eyes for that same hunger, again, but you found nothing this time. The space you held, hesitant, above the pink of his face softened into a solid touch. "I know I have told you of this."

He sucked in a shallow breath you could feel under the pulse of your palm. "Tell me again."

For a moment, you felt that divine image withdraw from you. It was petrifying‒ there was no instance in the six hundred years you had lived where that holy possession left you empty before you could carve it into the hardness of reality. But when you found yourself warmed not by its fleeting light, but the one that beamed from the flush of Rook's cheek‒ you let go of that chill, drinking in the heat that throbbed under your fingertips. Still as marble, you let yourself sink into the green of his eyes, this time, which were pointed directly at your whole with what could only be described as adoration.

"-Cut!" The brightness of the entire stage lighting up once more brought you back to reality. You shrunk your creaking hand from him, cringing at the scraping sound it made under your skin. "Zephyr‒ didn’t I just tell you that it was your cue right there?? You should already be on set by 'Tell me again'. Mark that on your paper so you don't forget, again.."

You chilled your face by feeling the metal under your skin, draining yourself of the remaining pieces of that image, that heat‒ moving smoothly before you reached a hand to Rook, still on the ground with the script in his hands. He looked up at you, seeing the shadow you created, staring blankly for a minute before shaking it off in favor of his usual fox-like grin. Even in the harsh darkness, you saw that shimmer pooling in his eyes.

"Merci, mon ami."

You stared mutely, watching him take your hand, the tip of his middle finger drew softly across your bare pulse, revealed by the pull of your glove by his grip. On instinct, you pulled away while he pulled in to lift his body off the ground‒ the tendons in your arms stretching, stretching, stretching until you felt them snap beside the metal bone. Anything but your hands‒ the curse which ineptly attempted to infuse your eternity into still flesh‒ much too quick‒ gone, gone, gone, you remembered.

Rook jerked backwards while the base of your arm tore into two‒ your body falling towards him to catch him with your other arm, stabilized with your light-fast knee lunging to him. Your in-tact hand easily caught his back, while you stared, wildly, into his widened eyes. Raising him to an upwards posture with a controlled straightening of your leg, you brought him back up to the soles of his feet‒ letting go as soon as he was balanced on top of them. You felt many eyes on you once more, concentrated at your shoulder where you uniform ripped, revealing the blot that bubbled from silvery metal under your ruptured skin.

Vil turned his head towards, you his stiff body following it. “You‒“

“I know.” That answer came sharply. You inhuman brute, immortal beast, machine‒ I know, I know. In the centuries you had lived, the eyes and whispers of many never bothered you much‒ but when you felt Rook graze against your cursed hands which spearheaded your parting with human flesh, after you two had held flesh against, what you thought was your flesh once more‒ it plunged you back into that hollow body, too large, too tall for your human heart. You felt words scorch your throat.

Play the part‒ let it possess you‒ empty the cup, fill it with an image not your own.

“I’ll be fine.” You raised a hand to cover the hideous healing of your arm, spurting and gushing with viscous black ink to forge your body back to its original form. It felt cold, writhing and twitching in the air‒ a heartless mockery of warm blood which fluttered delicately under human flesh‒ one you felt on Rook’s face just a few fleeting moments ago.

You saw Ortho appear from the curtains, floating towards you, examining your arm with worry. “(Name)- are you okay?? I think you should get that checked! Brother can take a look at it‒ just in case?” He pleaded.

Shifting your head downwards to examine the blot, you made the mistake of sweeping your eyes across Rook’s‒ his lips parted slightly, eyes widened into a crystalline solidity your wavering eyes did not possess. Too bright‒ burning. It welled a tightness in your throat.

Clenching your teeth, you answered Ortho. “I think I’ll do that. Excuse me.” Your legs leapt off the stairs of the stage, body swallowed by the darkness of the auditorium, back warmed by the light that radiated off of the stage. You heard Vil clap his hands, before the murmurs of first year students began once more as you slipped out of the room. Your body moved automatically, bringing toward the courtyard, where the shed was situated. Slumping your shoulder against it, you forced your way in, stumbling onto the wooden floors. Looking around, gliding your bleary eyes across the statues‒ you recognized no one.

Who’s memories did you hold? Who’s sadness was this‒ who’s hurt? Wounds felt too large, too feverish, too alive to feel like it belonged to your cold metal body. Who’s heart was this? Take it out, take it out. Your hands, your body, your life had been one filled with that action‒ stripped of anything you embraced. But just this once, you begged the sky where divine images descended from, to take just this one thing‒ everything, if you must‒ away from you. But it was fogged from your ragged, white breaths‒ and even without it, you weren’t sure if the gods above would gift you that clarity, the hope of a human‒ for, surely, you did not recognize humanity within you anymore. You tried to remember your own face from six hundred centuries ago, one which held the liveliness, the hunger, and the grotesque flush of a human’s. But no images descended upon you, so you shook that hollowness in your metal hand, hoping to crush it into a solid form with the pressure. No tears were shed, for such pleasures were only reserved for those of animal flesh. But you wept, voice rising from your chest, becoming foreign and uncanny when they reached the throat.

——————————————————

Notes:

Rook’s character kind of reminds me of Oba Yozo from No Longer Human by Dazai Osamu‒ I think one of his biggest fears is someone seeing through the mask of his character because behind it, there’s fear, anxiety, an emptiness which he seeks to fill with even just the fabrication of passion (in that way he also reminds me of Confession of a Mask by Mishima). For him, I think he’s paralyzed with choice, so he kind of overplays his character of “hunter of love” to cover up the quiet anxiety he feels about all the possibilities that are stretched out before him. But in some ways that becomes security, truth, clarity for him to the extent that the straight forward/intuitive manner in which you speak and create kind of muddles that picture of clarity for him. So theres a reality in that "hunter of love" character but its also very fragile because it was originally meant to be a stand in for something more concrete. I saw a post on tumblr with a concept drawing for his character that said “表情がウソくさい“、meaning his expressions seem “made up”/played up, so I was like ah yes, I’m absolutely going to read too much into this. And now here we are lmao

Is mood maker a phrase in English?? Lol i don’t remember lmk if its wrong

When Mitski said “Yet Now I find I’ve grown into a tall child” I felt that‒ lesbian Jesus strikes again Mitski seems to find way into my writing every time but she’s also a hyperfixation of mine

Greece actually fell like 2100 years ago around 146 BC BUT i figured with the help of magic technology/culture would move more rapidly?? So I shrunk it down to like 600 years

The play part is pulled directly from Song of Achilles lol (except I changed it to Hyacinthus and Apollo), I knew if I were to write a bit in the play I'd get waaaay into it and the chapter would take forever so, you win some you lose some I guess

[sinjaangels]

Work in progress, part 2. Playing with the form, design, and small details. Found inspiration from Artemis from Disney's Hercules the TV series and the awesome Mirrorverse of Snow White. Also, some Twisted Wonderland inspiration from the Bean Fest event. The theme is hunter, nature, and the moon.

For Valentine's Day!

It's also a sneaky way to hide my Twst Oc's custom human form. (in development.)

More info here:

[astro-stars]

Chapter 5: rather be on the streets

The library was just as she’d left it earlier—vast, shadowy, and oppressively still. Its towering shelves loomed over them like sentinels, the ancient tomes watching in silence. He guided her to a table at the center, brushing away a thin layer of dust with a flick of his hand. 

Crowley sighed deeply, his golden eyes scanning the endless rows of books. “There isn’t anything,” he murmured, his voice tinged with frustration. He turned to her, fixing her with a piercing stare. “The name of your home—____—doesn’t appear in any of our histories, nor on any map of this world. Are you quite certain that’s where you’re from?” 

Yuu nodded solemnly, her expression calm. “I’m not lying, I swear. That’s all I know.” 

Crowley searched her face, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to find even the faintest hint of deceit. At last, he sighed again and released her arm. “Very well,” he murmured, turning back to the shelves. His fingers trailed across the spines of cracked leather books, pausing occasionally as if struck by inspiration. “We’re missing something. Perhaps a book on interdimensional travel or some forgotten legend of a world like yours?” 

He pulled out a dusty tome, the leather creaking in protest as he opened it. The yellowed pages crackled faintly under his fingers, the ink faded to near illegibility. He leaned over the text, his lips moving silently as he read. The silence between them stretched taut, broken only by the occasional soft sound of a page turning or the faint creak of the library’s old wood. 

Finally, Crowley snapped the book shut with a decisive thud. “What did you have on you when you arrived here?” he asked, his eyes locking onto hers with renewed intensity. “Anything that might explain how you came to be in our world without magic?” 

Yuu’s pulse quickened, but she kept her expression steady. “I’m... empty-handed,” she replied, her voice soft but firm. Her phone felt like a weight in her pocket, a connection to her world she wasn’t ready to reveal. 

Crowley studied her for a long moment, his eyes sharp and calculating. “No trinkets? No charms? No... slippers?” he added, his tone tinged with suspicion. But despite his doubts, he didn’t press her further. 

“This is... concerning,” he admitted, pacing around the table with a furrowed brow. “I can’t allow someone without magic to stay at this school. It’s against the rules, not to mention incredibly dangerous!” He stopped abruptly, turning to face her, his golden eyes blazing with determination. “However,” he continued, his tone shifting to one of self-importance, “as an educator, I cannot in good conscience abandon a penniless teenager with no means of contacting their guardians. For I am, after all, gracious!” 

He spun on his heel, the tails of his coat flaring dramatically as a new idea seemed to strike him. “Hmm... I know!” His expression brightened, as though the solution had descended upon him directly from the heavens. 

“There is an unused building on campus!” he announced, gesturing broadly as if unveiling a grand plan. “It was once a dormitory, back when the school housed far more students. Alas, it has been abandoned for years. If you can clean it up and make it habitable, I shall permit you to stay there!” 

He paused for dramatic effect, giving her just enough time to process the offer before continuing. “Of course, while you reside in this temporary shelter, I shall dedicate myself tirelessly to finding a way to return you to your so-called ____!” He placed a hand over his chest, his voice swelling with pride. “For it is the duty of a noble educator such as myself to ensure the safety and well-being of all, even those lost and without magic!” 

Yuu blinked, still processing his words, but before she could reply, Crowley swept his arm toward the library’s exit. “Come!” he exclaimed, his voice ringing with excitement. “Let us waste no more time! I shall show you your new quarters!” 

Yuu trailed after him, her mind spinning with questions she dared not voice. Whatever lay ahead, she knew her life had just taken a turn she could never have imagined. 

The principal marched through the chaos with an air of practiced indifference, his robes fluttering behind him as though the dust and decay were nothing more than minor inconveniences. “You see, Miss Yuu,” he said, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture that encompassed the wreckage, “staying here will at least keep you out of the rain—until we figure out how to return you to your own world, of course!” 

Yuu coughed into her sleeve, trying to stifle her reaction and avoid drawing Crowley’s sharp gaze. The dust hung in the air like a ghostly mist, swirling in the wake of their movement. The room was a portrait of abandonment, every detail a reminder of just how long this place had been left to rot. 

The couches, once plush and inviting, were reduced to tragic remains, their stuffing spilling out like the entrails of some unfortunate beast. Paintings that must have once been majestic hung crookedly on the walls, their gilded frames cracked and flecked with tarnish. Broken tables and chairs lay scattered in disarray, their twisted forms resembling a macabre tableau of forgotten revelry. 

Cobwebs stretched across the corners, their intricate patterns thick with dust, like a spider’s forgotten monuments. The silence of the room was punctuated only by the occasional skittering of unseen creatures, their tiny legs tapping faintly against the cold stone floor. Yuu couldn’t shake the feeling that she was intruding here, a living soul disrupting the slumber of something ancient and long-abandoned. 

“Stay here, and don’t go wandering the school!” Crowley’s voice rang out, his tone a mix of command and theatricality, the warning wrapped in his usual flair. Without waiting for her reply, he turned and swept through the doorway, his departure punctuated by the heavy thud of the oak door closing behind him. 

The silence that followed was deafening, as though the room itself was holding its breath. Yuu stood still, the dust around her settling in a slow, deliberate dance. She cautiously approached one of the couches, her steps echoing faintly on the stone. Gingerly, she prodded at the torn fabric, the cold stuffing beneath yielding like something long dead. She recoiled slightly, her eyes watering as the thick dust reached her nose and throat. 

The space felt oppressive, the weight of its abandonment pressing against her chest. She glanced around, taking in the skeletal remains of what must have once been a grand room, now reduced to an echo of its former self. Her fingers brushed against the back of a broken chair, the wood brittle and crumbling beneath her touch. 

This place wasn’t just abandoned—it had been forgotten, left to rot in its own isolation. She drew in a shallow breath, the air thick and gritty, and stepped back, her movements tentative as though she feared disturbing the fragile remnants of the past. 

Suddenly, a voice shattered the oppressive silence. 

“GWAH! It’s pouring out there!” 

Yuu jumped, her heart leaping into her throat despite knowing this moment was coming. She spun around to see Grim, dripping wet and shaking himself like an oversized cat, sending droplets of water flying in every direction. 

The fiery-eared creature huffed dramatically, his blue flames flickering weakly as he stalked into the room. “What kind of place is this, huh? First, they slap a collar on me, and now they expect me to stay in this creepy dump?!” His tail lashed as he glared at the room, his disdain palpable. 

Yuu let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, her initial shock melting into a mixture of amusement and exasperation. “Grim,” she said evenly, brushing some stray dust off her sleeve, “you’re not supposed to be here.” 

Grim scoffed, puffing out his chest. “And you think you belong here? Gimme a break!” He hopped onto one of the tattered couches, sinking into the stuffing like it was his throne. “Besides, if they’re making me stay in this old dump, I might as well make myself comfortable. Gwahaha!” 

Yuu pinched the bridge of her nose, suppressing a sigh. Even though she’d expected Grim to show up, his loud, brash presence was as overwhelming in person as it had been in the game. “You’ll get dust all over yourself,” she pointed out, gesturing at the cloud of particles he’d stirred up. 

Grim paused mid-laugh, glancing down at his soot-gray fur, now speckled with dust. “Ugh!” he groaned, leaping off the couch and shaking himself again. “This place is the worst!” 

Despite herself, Yuu smiled faintly. “You’ll survive,” she said, her voice light but firm. 

Grim narrowed his eyes at her, then turned his attention back to the room. “Fine, but don’t think I’m cleaning any of this up! That’s your job, human!” He hopped onto a nearby table, his tail flicking with indignation as he surveyed their dilapidated surroundings. 

Yuu shook her head, a small laugh escaping her lips. Even in a situation as bizarre as this, Grim’s antics were strangely comforting. 

Grim grumbled as he followed Yuu down a narrow hallway, the dim light from a single, sputtering torch casting flickering shadows along the stone walls. “This place really is the worst,” he muttered, his ears twitching at every creak and groan the old building made. “And why do I have to help? I’m a future Great Mage, not some... cleaning crew!” 

Yuu rolled her eyes, brushing cobwebs away from her path. “If you want a place to sleep that doesn’t smell like mold and dust, you’re going to have to pitch in,” she replied, her tone dry but resolute. 

Grim opened his mouth to retort, but a sudden scurrying sound made his ears perk. He froze, his blue flames dimming slightly. “D-did you hear that?” he asked, his voice quieter now. 

“It’s probably just rats,” Yuu said, trying to sound braver than she felt. She turned a corner and spotted an old, battered door slightly ajar. “There’s got to be a storage room around here. Let’s check this one.” 

She pushed the door open with a creak, revealing a small room cluttered with forgotten supplies. Shelves lined the walls, sagging under the weight of rusted buckets, ancient mops, and half-empty bottles of cleaning solution. Dust floated in the air like tiny specters, catching the faint glow of Grim’s flames. 

Grim hopped onto a low shelf, pawing at a broomstick that clattered noisily to the floor. “Gwah! This stuff’s so old it’s practically falling apart!” 

As if on cue, a chilling gust of wind swept through the room, rattling the shelves and sending a cloud of dust swirling around them. Yuu froze, clutching the edge of a nearby table as the temperature seemed to drop several degrees. 

“Did that wind come from... inside?” she whispered, her voice trembling despite her attempt to stay calm. 

Before Grim could respond, a high-pitched giggle echoed from the shadows. 

“Who dares disturb our peaceful slumber?” a ghostly voice called out, dripping with mock menace. 

Yuu spun around, her breath catching as three translucent figures emerged from the gloom. The ghosts floated effortlessly, their forms shimmering faintly. Each one wore a mischievous grin, their glowing eyes gleaming with delight at her and Grim’s startled expressions. 

“Visitors! And such lively ones!” the tallest ghost exclaimed, his voice dripping with mockery. 

The shortest of the three snickered, floating in lazy circles around Grim. “Ooh, look at this one! A little fiery furball! What are you, a magical rodent?” 

“I’M NOT A RODENT!” Grim yowled, his flames flaring bright as he bared his teeth. “And I’m not scared of you, either!” 

The middle ghost cackled, his translucent form shimmering as he leaned closer to Yuu. “And what about you, little miss? Lost your way, have you?” 

Yuu squared her shoulders, her heart pounding but her voice steady. “We’re just here to clean. We don’t want any trouble.” 

“Clean? In here?” the tallest ghost howled with laughter. “Oh, this is too good!” 

The three ghosts exchanged gleeful glances before they began wreaking havoc. One tipped over a bucket, spilling its contents across the floor with a loud clang. Another grabbed a broom, twirling it through the air like a lance before dropping it with a dramatic crash. 

“GWAH!” Grim yelped, jumping back as a ghostly mop flew past his head. “Hey! Cut it out, you spooky weirdos!” 

Yuu ducked as a bottle of cleaning solution levitated toward her, narrowly missing her shoulder as it smashed against the wall. “We’re just trying to fix this place up!” she shouted, dodging another flying object. 

The shortest ghost floated directly in front of Grim, his face split into a mischievous grin. “Fix it up? Oh, we’ll help you ‘fix it up,’ all right!” 

With a snap of his translucent fingers, a cascade of ancient rags tumbled off a nearby shelf, burying Grim in a dusty heap. “Gwah! I’ll roast you!” Grim sputtered, clawing his way out of the pile. 

The ghosts’ laughter echoed through the room, their translucent forms darting effortlessly around Grim’s wild flames. Objects continued to fly—buckets clanging against walls, rags tumbling through the air, and a mop that narrowly missed Yuu’s head. 

Grim’s frustration boiled over. “That’s it!” he roared, his blue flames flaring brighter than ever. “You’re all toast!” 

He opened his mouth and unleashed another burst of fire—but it sailed wide, hitting nothing but air as the ghosts cackled and twirled out of reach. 

“GWAH! Hold still, you glowstick freaks!” Grim shouted, firing again with no better results. 

“Grim!” Yuu yelled, ducking as another projectile whizzed past her. “You can’t aim with your eyes closed!” 

“I can too!” Grim shot back, his flames sputtering slightly. 

Yuu rolled her eyes, grabbing an old, battered broom to swat away a floating bucket. “Fine, you clearly need help. Just listen to me!” 

Grim looked like he was about to argue, but the ghosts darted past him again, laughing and waving their hands mockingly. His jaw tightened. “Gwah! Fine, but you better know what you’re doing, human!” 

Yuu planted herself firmly behind Grim, her voice sharp and focused. “Right!” she called, pointing toward the nearest ghost. 

Grim twisted his head to the right and fired, the blue flames narrowly missing the ghost, who yelped and floated higher. 

“Higher!” Yuu instructed. 

Grim grumbled but adjusted his aim, firing again. This time, the flames grazed the ghost’s tail, making it yelp and dart away. 

“Behind you!” Yuu shouted, pointing as another ghost swooped low. 

Grim spun, unleashing another burst of flames that sent the shortest ghost scrambling for cover. 

“Left!” Yuu barked. 

Grim fired without hesitation, catching the tallest ghost off guard. His flames clipped the edge of its form, and the ghost let out a startled cry. 

“Gwahaha! Gotcha!” Grim cackled, his confidence surging. 

“Center, now!” Yuu called, pointing straight ahead. 

Grim inhaled deeply and fired a wide arc of flames. The middle ghost darted upward, narrowly avoiding the attack. “All right, all right, we’re done playing!” 

The ghosts gathered near the ceiling, their faces a mixture of irritation and begrudging respect. 

“Not bad,” the shortest ghost muttered, crossing his arms as he floated higher. 

The tallest ghost gave Grim a mocking bow. “We’ll let you off the hook—for now. But don’t think this means we’re leaving for good!” 

With a final burst of laughter, the ghosts faded into the shadows, their presence dissipating like smoke. 

Grim stood tall, his blue flames crackling proudly. “See? Told ya I didn’t need your help!” 

Yuu raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Uh-huh. So I didn’t just tell you where to aim every single time?” 

Grim huffed, refusing to meet her gaze. “Whatever. Just give me my tuna!” 

The dorm had undergone a transformation—well, as much of a transformation as could be expected in such a short time. Yuu had scrubbed layers of grime from the floors, dusted as best as she could, and stacked the broken furniture into a corner to clear some space. It wasn’t perfect, but it was livable—or at least less horrifying. 

Grim, of course, had spent most of the time lounging around, offering commentary rather than actual assistance. “You missed a spot,” he’d say with a smirk, only to narrowly dodge a rag Yuu tossed in his direction. 

As she stood back to admire the slightly less chaotic state of the room, the sound of the heavy door creaking open made her jump. 

“Good evening!” Crowley’s voice rang out, startling both Yuu and Grim as the headmaster swept into the room with his usual theatrical flair. “In yet another gesture of my immense kindness, I have brought you dinner!” He held up a covered tray with a flourish, his golden eyes gleaming with pride. 

Yuu barely had time to blink before his gaze landed on Grim. His smile faltered, morphing into a dramatic gasp. “Wait! That’s the creature we ejected for causing trouble at orientation! What is it doing here?” 

Grim, who had been gnawing on an old broomstick for lack of better entertainment, stood up straight and puffed out his chest. “Takin’ care of your ghost problem, that’s what! You’re welcome, by the way!” 

Crowley froze mid-step, his head tilting slightly as if processing Grim’s words. “Ghosts?” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “Ah, of course. That’s why this dormitory was abandoned in the first place…” His voice trailed off as he tapped his chin, clearly caught up in his own thoughts. 

Yuu raised an eyebrow but said nothing, waiting for him to snap out of it. 

Crowley’s golden eyes narrowed as he studied the pair. “And you’re saying you two joined forces to drive them away?” 

Grim puffed up indignantly, his blue flames flickering. “What? Join forces with her? Gwahaha! As if! I did all the heavy lifting!” He jabbed a paw at himself, proudly thumping his chest. “Those ghosts didn’t stand a chance against my flames!” 

Yuu raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “Really? And here I thought I was the one telling you where to aim because you couldn’t hit anything on your own.” 

Grim spun around, his ears flattening. “I coulda hit them without your help! I was just... uh... humoring you!” 

Yuu smirked, clearly unconvinced, and Crowley coughed pointedly, reclaiming their attention. “Enough, enough!” he said, waving his hands in exasperation. “I don’t have time for your bickering. What I do have time for,” he added with a dramatic flourish, “is finding out exactly how you managed to rid this dorm of ghosts.” 

Grim’s ears perked up. “What, you don’t believe me?” 

Crowley tilted his head, one golden eye narrowing. “Let’s just say I’d like to see for myself how my so-called ‘great mage’ handled things.” 

Grim’s tail lashed indignantly, and Yuu’s expression turned curious. “How exactly are you planning to do that?” she asked. 

Crowley grinned, his usual theatrical energy returning in full force. “Simple! I shall temporarily transform myself into a spirit and observe your ‘battle tactics’ firsthand!” 

Yuu blinked, stunned into silence for a moment. “You can... do that?” 

“Of course!” Crowley huffed, his robes swishing dramatically as he began gesturing with his hands. “As headmaster, I have access to all manner of magic. Watch and learn!” 

Grim muttered under his breath, “This is gonna be a disaster...” 

Crowley adjusted his gloves with an air of self-satisfaction, his golden eyes scanning the room one last time. “Well, Miss Yuu,” he said with a dramatic sigh, “it seems you’ve proven yourself somewhat capable of handling this situation. Despite the unorthodox circumstances, I am—reluctantly—impressed.” 

Grim let out a triumphant “Gwahaha!” from the corner, his chest puffed out with pride. “See? I told ya I’m the best!” 

Yuu shook her head, unable to suppress a small smile at his antics. But as Crowley turned to leave, she hesitated, a thought tugging at her mind. “Headmaster?” she called, her voice steady but uncertain. 

Crowley paused mid-stride, turning to face her with one perfectly arched eyebrow raised. “Yes, Miss Yuu? Is there something else?” 

She glanced at Grim, who was still basking in his own glory, then back at Crowley. “I’d like to request something... about Grim.” 

Crowley’s expression shifted, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. “Request something? About him?” He gestured dramatically toward the fiery creature. “You mean the same creature who disrupted my orientation ceremony and caused chaos with his reckless flames?” 

Grim sputtered indignantly, his flames flaring. “Hey! I fixed your ghost problem, didn’t I?!” 

Crowley ignored him, focusing instead on Yuu. “What exactly are you asking, Miss Yuu?” 

She took a breath, gathering her thoughts. “I’d like Grim to stay here—with me. He helped me handle the ghosts, and this place doesn’t feel quite so... empty with him around.” 

Grim blinked, his flames flickering as he processed her words. “Wait—you want me to stay? Really?” 

Yuu nodded, giving him a small smile before turning back to Crowley. “He’s not so bad when you get to know him,” she added. “And I think... he could really use a chance to prove himself.” 

Crowley stared at her, his golden eyes unreadable as he tapped a finger against his chin. “Hmm,” he mused, his voice laced with skepticism. “You want me to grant permission for this troublesome, fiery creature to reside in this dormitory alongside you? Are you certain you understand the risk you’re taking?” 

“I’m certain,” Yuu replied firmly. “Grim might be... a handful, but I think we make a good team.” 

Grim puffed up even more at that. “Gwahaha! Hear that, Headmaster? She needs me!” 

Crowley sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “As if my life wasn’t complicated enough...” He glanced at Grim, then back at Yuu, his expression shifting into something resembling reluctant acceptance. 

“Very well,” he said with a flourish of his hand. “For now, I shall allow this... arrangement. But understand this, Miss Yuu: if Grim causes any further disruptions—or sets anything else on fire—this permission will be revoked immediately. Is that clear?” 

Yuu nodded, her relief evident. “Perfectly clear. Thank you, Headmaster.” 

Grim leaped onto a nearby table, his flames crackling brightly. “Gwahaha! You won’t regret this!” he declared. “The Great Grim always delivers!” 

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “That remains to be seen,” he muttered under his breath before straightening his posture. “Good night, Miss Yuu, Mister Grim. Do try to stay out of trouble.” 

With that, he turned and swept out of the room, the door creaking shut behind him. 

Grim hopped down from the table, grinning at Yuu. “See? Even the headmaster can’t say no to me!” 

Yuu laughed softly, shaking her head. “Sure, Grim. Let’s just hope you can live up to the hype.” 

Grim’s flames burned a little brighter as he flopped onto a slightly less-dusty couch. “Gwahaha! You’ll see, human. You made the right call.” 

For the first time, the room felt almost cozy—messy, a little chaotic, but filled with the spark of something that felt like home. 

authors note: excuse the timeskips please!

TAGLIST: @soramcduckahyucky @lunasmisosoup @brights-place @kimdourden

[astro-stars]

Chapter 6: Damn Gingers

The morning sun filtered weakly through the cracked and dusty windows of the dorm, casting a muted glow over the room. Yuu stretched as she sat up from the couch she’d managed to clear off the night before, the ache in her back reminding her just how unforgiving the old furniture was. 

Grim was sprawled across a nearby chair, snoring softly, his flames flickering faintly with each breath. For a moment, the dorm was quiet, peaceful even. 

That peace was shattered as the door burst open with a dramatic bang. 

“Good morning!” Crowley’s voice boomed, startling both Yuu and Grim awake. Grim fell off his chair with a yelp, his flames flaring wildly as he scrambled to his feet. 

“GWAH! What’s the big idea?!” Grim shouted, glaring at the headmaster. 

Crowley ignored him, stepping into the room with his usual flourish. “Ah, how lovely to see you both up and... relatively alert,” he said, his golden eyes scanning the room with a mix of amusement and disdain. 

Yuu rubbed her eyes, still groggy. “Good morning, Headmaster,” she said, stifling a yawn. “Is something wrong?” 

“Not at all!” Crowley replied cheerfully. “I am merely here to clarify the terms of your arrangement.” 

Grim tilted his head. “Arrangement? What arrangement?” 

Crowley’s smile grew sharper as he gestured grandly. “You see, Miss Yuu, Grim, while you may reside in this dormitory, I must stress that you are not officially enrolled as students at Night Raven College.” 

Yuu blinked, her confusion briefly overriding her sleepiness. “We’re... not students?” 

“Indeed!” Crowley said with a nod. “As you lack magical aptitude, Miss Yuu, and Grim... well, let’s just say your temperament does not align with the academic rigor of this institution, your roles here will be entirely different.” 

Grim bristled, his flames flaring. “What’s that supposed to mean?! I’m plenty smart!” 

Crowley ignored him again, addressing Yuu directly. “You, my dear, shall act as the dormitory’s custodial staff, ensuring its continued upkeep and cleanliness. This arrangement will provide you with shelter and a purpose while I continue searching for a way to return you to your world.” 

Yuu frowned slightly. “So... we’re janitors?” 

“Precisely!” Crowley declared, his tone as cheerful as ever. “And you should be grateful for this opportunity! Why, many would envy the chance to contribute to such a prestigious institution—even in a non-academic capacity.” 

Grim opened his mouth to protest, but Yuu cut him off with a resigned sigh. “Okay, Headmaster. We’ll do our best.” 

“Excellent!” Crowley said, clapping his hands together. “I knew you would see reason. Now, I must take my leave, as my duties demand my attention. But rest assured, I will be checking in on your progress.” 

He spun dramatically toward the door, pausing just long enough to add, “Oh, and Grim? Do try to avoid setting anything—or anyone—on fire.” 

With that, he swept out of the room, leaving Yuu and Grim standing in stunned silence. 

After a moment, Grim let out a loud groan, flopping back onto his chair. “Gwah! A janitor?! The Great Grim doesn’t do chores!” 

Yuu sat down beside him, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Well, looks like you’re going to have to learn,” she said lightly. 

Grim huffed, his tail flicking irritably. “Fine. But you owe me a lifetime supply of tuna for this!” 

Yuu laughed softly, shaking her head. “Deal.” 

“Anyways,” Crowley continued, his voice taking on a brisk, businesslike tone as he adjusted his gloves. “Let us discuss your assignment for today!” 

Yuu sat up straighter, while Grim groaned, already sensing where this was going. 

“Today,” Crowley announced grandly, gesturing as though unveiling some great plan, “I’ll have you covering the area spanning from the front gates to the library. It’s quite a bit of ground, so I suggest you start immediately. A clean school is a proper school, after all!” 

Grim’s jaw dropped. “The front gates to the library?!” he exclaimed, his flames flaring. “That’s half the school! You can’t expect us to clean all of that!” 

Crowley gave a sharp, dismissive wave of his hand. “Of course I do. If anyone can manage it, it’s you two. Consider it a test of your diligence!” 

“But—” Grim started, only for Crowley to cut him off. 

“No buts!” Crowley declared, turning on his heel. “I expect progress by the time I return! Good luck, Miss Yuu, Grim. Do make me proud!” 

With that, he swept out of the room, leaving behind the faint rustle of his robes and the heavy weight of his assignment. 

Yuu sighed, already feeling the fatigue setting in. “Well,” she said, standing and brushing off her clothes, “we’d better get started.” 

Grim flopped back into his chair, crossing his arms stubbornly. “No way! That’s way too much work. Let him do it himself!” 

Yuu groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Grim, if we don’t do this, he’ll probably kick us out.” 

“Gwah! He wouldn’t dare!” Grim shot back, though his ears twitched nervously. 

Yuu smirked knowingly. “Oh, I think he would. Besides,” she added, grabbing a broom and handing it to him, “didn’t you say you wanted to prove how great you are? This is your chance!” 

Grim stared at the broom like it was a poisonous snake. “This isn’t what I meant by great!” 

Yuu rolled her eyes, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, and began dragging him toward the door. “Come on, Grim. The sooner we start, the sooner we’re done.” 

“Gwah! Let go, human! I’m not some sack of potatoes!” Grim squawked, flailing as she pulled him along. 

“Then stop acting like one,” Yuu shot back, grinning despite herself. 

As they stepped out into the hallway, the sun casting its warm light through the high windows, Yuu tightened her grip on the broom and glanced down at her reluctant companion. 

“Let’s just get through today,” she said, her tone lighter. “Who knows? Maybe it won’t be so bad.” 

Grim muttered something unintelligible but reluctantly followed her lead, his flames flickering low as they headed toward the front gates to begin their first official assignment. 

The walk to the front gates had been uneventful, aside from Grim’s constant grumbling about the “injustice” of being forced to work. But as they reached the end of the stone path, Yuu slowed, her gaze drawn to the towering statues that lined either side. 

Carved from smooth gray stone, the Great Seven stood tall and imposing, their carefully crafted expressions and poses exuding power and wisdom. Each one seemed to radiate an aura of reverence, a stark reminder of their status as the foundation of the school’s teachings and principles. 

Yuu’s eyes flicked over the statues, her lips pressing into a thin line as she rolled her eyes at a few. She didn’t necessarily dislike most of them (tho there's ones she hates), but she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see these larger-than-life depictions of authority looming over her. 

Grim, on the other hand, stared up at the statues with unfiltered curiosity. His gaze landed on a particular figure—a woman with a sharp crown, a commanding presence, and a stone glare that seemed to pierce straight through him. “Gwah! Who’s the mean-looking lady?” he asked, jabbing a paw at her statue. 

Before Yuu could even think of how to respond, a familiar voice cut through the quiet. 

“What did you just say?” 

Yuu inwardly groaned. She didn’t dislike Ace—he wasn’t the worst person she’d met—but she could already feel the headache forming as he approached. 

Ace strolled up to them, his expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Seriously? ‘Mean-looking lady’? You can’t be serious.” 

Grim blinked, his flames flickering. “Uh, yeah, I am. Who is she?” 

Ace gawked at him, then threw his hands up dramatically. “That’s the Queen of Hearts! Like, the Queen of Hearts! One of the Seven Great! How do you not know her?” 

Grim tilted his head, unimpressed. “What’s the big deal? She’s just a statue.” 

“The big deal,” Ace emphasized, jabbing a thumb toward the statue, “is that she’s one of the most brilliant leaders in history!”  

Yuu sighed, rubbing her temple. She wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, but there was no stopping Ace now. 

“She didn’t just rule, she ruled with authority,” Ace continued, grinning as he gestured at the statue. “She didn’t let anyone get away with disrespect. Her whole thing was ‘off with their heads.’” 

Grim’s ears perked up at that. “Off with their heads, huh? That’s... kinda cool,” he said, his flames flaring slightly. 

Yuu groaned, turning to Grim. “Please don’t take that as life advice.” 

Ace leaned casually against one of the stone posts lining the path, clearly enjoying himself. “You really don’t know any of the Great seven? Man, you’ve got a lot to learn. Especially if you think the Queen of Hearts is just some ‘mean-looking lady.’” 

Grim scowled, crossing his arms. “I’ll learn what I want to, okay? And she still looks mean!” 

Ace chuckled, shaking his head as he stayed in place. Yuu sighed quietly. She could feel the start of a long conversation brewing, and Grim’s curiosity was just getting started. 

Ace leaned back slightly, his arms crossed as he looked at Grim with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “You’re serious? You don’t know who the Queen of Hearts is, but you’re walking around Night Raven College? What’s your deal, anyway?” 

Grim puffed up, his flames flickering with indignation. “I’m Grim! Future Great Mage! And who are you to give me the third degree, huh?” 

“Ace Trappola,” the ginger replied with a smirk, clearly unfazed by Grim’s bravado. He tilted his head toward Yuu. “And you are...?” 

“Yuu,” she said simply, keeping her tone neutral. 

“Well, Yuu and Grim,” Ace continued, his smirk widening, “welcome to Night Raven College. You’re definitely gonna stand out, that’s for sure.” 

Grim huffed, brushing off the comment. “Gwah! I’m not worried about that. So tell me, Ace,” he said, his blue flames flaring brighter as he pointed toward another statue, “is that lion with the scar on his eye a famous ruler too?” 

Ace blinked, then followed Grim’s gesture to the towering statue of Scar. The lion stood poised mid-stride, his sharp features and piercing gaze captured in stone, radiating an aura of calculated cunning. 

“Famous ruler?” Ace echoed with a raised eyebrow. “That’s the King of Beasts, the one who ruled the savanna. But he wasn’t born into the throne—he had to earn it through hard work and elaborate schemes.” 

Grim tilted his head, his flames flickering with curiosity. “Earn it? How?” 

Ace smirked, clearly enjoying the opportunity to show off. “When he became king, he decreed that the hyenas—who had been treated like outcasts for ages—would be pariahs no more. He made it so they could live among his subjects as equals. That’s why he’s one of the Seven Great Sages. He didn’t just take the throne—he changed things.” 

Grim stared up at the statue, his tail swishing slowly as he processed the explanation. “Huh. So he worked his way up and made things better for his people? Not bad for a lion,” he muttered, almost to himself. 

Ace grinned, crossing his arms. “Yeah, not bad at all. You’ve got to respect that kind of determination, don’t you think?” 

Grim stared up at the statue of Scar for a moment longer before nodding decisively. “Gwah! Sounds like a great guy to me!” 

Yuu silently rolled her eyes, biting back a comment. She didn’t want to start an argument, but the last thing Grim needed was another questionable role model to inflate his ego. 

Before she could redirect the conversation, Grim’s gaze shifted to another statue—a striking figure with a sly smile, and unmistakable octopus tentacles curling below her torso. “Okay, okay,” Grim said, pointing at it with his paw. “What about her? What’s her deal?” 

Ace glanced over at the statue, his grin widening. “Oh, her? That’s the Sea Witch,” he said, leaning casually against the stone railing. “She lived in an underwater grotto and basically devoted her life to helping troubled merfolk.” 

“Helping them?” Grim asked, his ears twitching. 

“Yep,” Ace continued, gesturing animatedly. “If they were willing to pay the price, she’d help them change their appearances, find love, whatever they needed. They say she was so good at what she did, there wasn’t a single wish she couldn’t grant.” 

Grim’s blue flames flickered brighter with intrigue. “Gwah! No wish she couldn’t grant? That’s amazing!” 

Ace chuckled. “Yeah, but... they also say the price was a tad steep. You didn’t just pay her in gold or pearls—it was, like, something way more personal. But come on, she was granting wishes! Of course it was worth it!” 

Grim tilted his head, staring up at the statue with newfound respect. “Sounds fair to me. I mean, if you want something bad enough, you gotta pay up, right?” 

Yuu exhaled quietly, her gaze flicking from Grim to Ace. She could already feel the growing fascination radiating off her fiery companion. Please don’t let Grim get any ideas, she thought, resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

“Exactly!” Ace said with a laugh, clearly enjoying Grim’s enthusiasm. “The Sea Witch was a total genius. She didn’t just grant wishes—she created opportunities.” 

Grim puffed up, clearly impressed. “Gwahaha! I like her already!” 

Yuu sighed, her expression neutral as she glanced at the next statue. She knew Grim wasn’t done yet, and she braced herself for the next round of questions. 

Grim’s tail flicked with excitement as he turned to the next statue.  “Oh! Oh! Do the dude with the big hat!” he exclaimed, jabbing his paw toward the statue. 

Ace straightened up, his grin widening as he prepared to show off again. “That’s the Sorcerer of the Sands,” he began, his tone dripping with confidence. “He was the advisor to a total dolt of a sultan. The guy was clueless, but the Sorcerer? He was a smart guy. Really capable.” 

Grim’s ears perked up as Ace continued. 

“One time, he exposed this swindler,” Ace said, gesturing animatedly. “Some guy was pretending to be a prince to trick the princess. Total scammer. The Sorcerer of the Sands saw right through him and called him out on it. Pretty impressive, right?” 

Grim nodded eagerly. “Gwah! So, what happened next?” 

Ace smirked. “After that, he got his hands on this magic lamp. With the power of the genie inside it, he became the greatest sorcerer in the world. They say he was unstoppable—no one could even come close to his level of magic.” 

“Whoa,” Grim said, his blue flames flickering brighter as he stared up at the statue. “That’s awesome! What’d he do with all that power?” 

Ace’s smirk shifted, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “Well... they say he used that power to become sultan himself.” 

Grim let out a low whistle, his flames crackling with excitement. “The sultan? Gwahaha! Now that’s what I’m talking about! Smart and ambitious!” 

Yuu folded her arms, glancing at Ace with a raised eyebrow. “Ambitious is one way to put it,” she said, her tone dry. 

Ace shrugged, clearly unfazed. “What? The guy saw an opportunity and took it. Can’t fault him for that.” 

Grim nodded in agreement, puffing out his chest. “Yeah, you gotta respect someone who knows how to climb to the top. That’s what I’d do!” 

Grim’s eyes flicked to the next statue, a regal woman draped in an elegant cloak with a crown perched atop her head. Her expression was cold and calculating, but her beauty was undeniable. “And what about this beauty over here?” Grim asked, pointing toward the figure. 

Ace turned toward the statue, his grin widening. “Oh, her? That’s the Queen,” his tone gaining a touch of mock reverence. “She was said to be the fairest in all the land. In fact, she used her magic mirror to check how she ranked on a daily basis!” 

“Daily?” Grim repeated, tilting his head. 

“Yep,” Ace continued, gesturing dramatically. “Every single day, she’d make sure no one outshone her. And if it looked like her position as the fairest was threatened... well, let’s just say she’d do whatever it took to keep it.” He smirked, leaning slightly closer to Grim. “Can you imagine the level of dedication it would take to keep a record like that?” 

Grim blinked, his flames dimming slightly. “Gwah... sounds intense.” 

“Oh, it gets better,” Ace said, his voice dropping conspiratorially. “They also say she was a master of making poisons. Nobody could top her when it came to that kind of magic.” 

Grim stared up at the statue, his tail twitching nervously. “Geez, she’s pretty, but that sounds kinda scary,” he murmured. 

Ace shrugged, his grin never wavering. “You think so? I gotta respect the hustle! She knew what she wanted and didn’t let anyone stand in her way.” 

Grim stuttered for a moment, his blue flames flickering uncertainly. “F-for sure... Sounds like she fought hard for what she believed in and never gave up!” 

Grim’s eyes flicked to the next statue—a figure with a flaming head, his sharp grin and confident stance radiating power and intimidation. Grim shuddered slightly but couldn’t look away. “And the one there, with the flaming head? Now that guy looks scary!” 

Ace followed Grim’s gaze, his grin widening. “Oh, him? That’s the King of the Underworld!” He gestured toward the statue, clearly eager to show off. 

“The King of the Underworld?” Grim repeated, his flames flickering. 

“Yeah,” Ace said, leaning against the stone railing. “He single-handedly rules a kingdom packed with rambunctious spirits. Imagine trying to keep all those restless souls in line—takes serious competence, don’t you think?” 

Grim tilted his head, his flames dimming slightly as he stared at the statue. “Gwah... I guess that does sound tough.” 

Ace nodded, his tone growing more animated. “And get this—he may look scary, but he was a straight shooter. Worked tirelessly at a job he didn’t even ask for. He didn’t slack off or complain; he just got it done.” 

Grim’s ears perked up. “Really?” 

“Yep,” Ace replied with a smirk. “This is the guy who ordered Cerberus, the Hydra, and even the Titans into battle for him. Can you imagine the kind of authority it takes to handle that? He was the boss of bosses.” 

Grim’s flames flared a little brighter, and he nodded thoughtfully. “Hmm. That is something,” he admitted. “T’think he could have that much power and not let it go to his head!” 

Grim’s gaze shifted to the last statue—a regal figure with imposing horns and a staff raised high. Her expression was cold and commanding, her presence radiating power. “And that last one there, with the horns?” Grim asked, his flames flickering with curiosity. 

Ace glanced at the statue, his grin widening. “That’s the Thorn Fairy,” he said. “She lived on a mythical mountain. Noble, elegant, and a master of magic and curses—even compared to the other Seven!” 

Grim’s ears perked up. “Curses? Magic? What kind of stuff could she do?” 

Ace smirked. “She could summon storms, cover entire kingdoms in thorns... and she could even turn herself into a giant dragon.” 

Grim’s flames flared brightly at that, and his tail swished with excitement. “Ooh, a dragon! What all monsters yearn to be!” 

Ace’s casual grin shifted into a sly smirk. “Pretty cool, huh? Not like some piddling weasel. 

Yuu simply pursed her lips, saying nothing as Grim bristled, his flames flaring even higher. 

Ace couldn’t hold it in any longer. He burst into laughter, doubling over as his voice echoed through the space. “Pfft... Ah ha ha! I can’t hold it back anymore! Ah ha ha ha ha ha!” 

Grim growled. “What’s so funny, you string bean?!” 

Ace wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, his grin as wide as ever. “Come on, you’re the ones who turned orientation into such a fiasco, right? The one summoned by the Dark Mirror who can’t even use magic, and the monster no one summoned at all. It took everything I had not to burst out laughing right in the middle of the ceremony!” 

Grim’s flames flared, and he stomped forward. “Gwah! You wanna say that again, twig boy?!” 

Before Grim could escalate the situation further, Yuu finally spoke up, her tone calm but sharp. “Are you really so disappointed in yourself that you have to bully a cat and a lost girl?” 

Ace froze, his smirk faltering slightly as her words sank in. For a moment, the laughter in his eyes dulled, replaced by something harder to read. 

Grim blinked, glancing back at Yuu with wide eyes. “Huh?” 

Yuu crossed her arms, her gaze steady as she looked at Ace. “It’s kind of pathetic, don’t you think? Picking on us because you need an easy laugh?” 

Ace’s grin returned, though it was noticeably weaker. “Tch. Relax, I was just joking,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t take it so seriously.” 

Yuu raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond, letting the silence linger as Ace shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. Grim, meanwhile, puffed up, his confidence seemingly restored. 

“Yeah! That’s what I thought!” Grim declared, stomping a paw on the ground. “You better watch it, twig boy!” 

Ace chuckled weakly, his usual bravado a little dimmer. “Whatever. You guys are... something else,” he said, glancing away. “Anyway, what’re you even doing out here? Isn’t cleaning duty calling your name?” 

Yuu sighed, already feeling the energy drain from her as Grim prepared to fire back with another retort. 

Ace turned to leave, still chuckling to himself, but before he could take a step, a burst of blue fire shot past him, narrowly missing his shoulder. 

“Whoa!” Ace yelped, stumbling backward just in time to avoid the flames. 

Grim growled, his flames flaring brighter as he puffed up. “No one makes fun of Grim, Master of Fire! I’m gonna make that explodey-head of yours explode all over again!” 

Ace froze mid-step, his grin twisting into an insulted scowl. “Explodey-head?!” he snapped, spinning back around to glare at Grim. “You wanna throw down with me, shorty? You got some guts.” He jabbed a finger at Grim, his own magic beginning to stir. “You wanna talk hair, huh? I’m gonna shave you like a toy poodle!” 

Yuu sighed, crossing her arms and watching the exchange with an unimpressed look. “Really?” she muttered, but neither of them paid her any mind. 

The battle erupted almost instantly. Grim unleashed another fireball, roaring, “Take this!” while Ace countered with a burst of wind magic, redirecting the flames harmlessly to the side. 

“You call that fire?!” Ace taunted, his smirk returning. “I’ve seen candles burn brighter!” 

“Gwah! Let’s see you block this!” Grim retorted, launching a rapid barrage of smaller fireballs, which Ace skillfully redirected with gusts of wind. 

The intensity escalated as Grim summoned a particularly large fireball, the blue flames crackling ominously as it hovered above his head. “You’re finished, string bean!” he shouted, hurling the fireball with all his might. 

Ace raised his hands, the wind swirling around him as he prepared to redirect it. But this time, his aim was off. Instead of harmlessly dispersing the flames, the fireball struck the Queen of Hearts’s statue. 

“Oh no!” Ace cried, his face paling as the flames scorched the stone. “Now the Queen of Hearts’s statue looks like it’s been flame-broiled!” 

Grim growled, his flames flaring. “That’s your fault for tryin’ to divert it! You shoulda just let it burn you to a crisp!” 

Before Ace could respond, a booming voice cut through the chaos. 

“What is going on here?! Cease this at once!” 

Both Grim and Ace froze as Headmaster Crowley strode onto the scene, his golden eyes blazing with fury. 

Ace panicked, waving his hands in a desperate attempt to explain. “I-It’s not what it looks like! I swear!” 

Grim’s ears flattened as he backed away. “Not more lashings of love! We gotta get outta here!” 

But before either could make a move, the lash of love appeared, binding both of them in shadowy tendrils. 

“As if the likes of you could ever flee from me!” Crowley declared, his voice sharp and commanding. He sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Haaah... Did I not just warn you, ‘no more incidents’? And now you’ve charred one of my statues?! It’s almost as though you want to be expelled!” 

“No! Forgive me!” Ace pleaded, his voice high-pitched with panic. 

Crowley’s stern gaze turned to Yuu, who stood frozen as all eyes landed on her. “And you, Yuu. You were specifically told to keep Grim under control!” 

Yuu looked down, her hands clenching nervously. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, her voice barely audible. 

Crowley’s attention returned to Ace. “Ace Trappola... Freshman.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ace answered quickly, his voice trembling. 

Crowley folded his arms, his expression stern. “Then listen well, Trappola. You too, Grim and Yuu. As punishment for today’s infractions, you are hereby ordered to wash a hundred windows!” 

Grim’s jaw dropped. “Myah?! That’s what you get for makin’ fun of me! This is all your fault!” 

Crowley ignored him, his gaze unyielding. “You will meet in the cafeteria after class. Are we clear?” 

“Yes, sir,” Ace said solemnly, his shoulders slumping. 

Grim groaned, muttering, “Ugh, I just can’t catch a break!” 

Yuu nodded silently, her head still lowered as the weight of the punishment settled over them all.

TAGLIST: @soramcduckahyucky @lunasmisosoup @brights-place @kimdourden

[posioniousheartsreblogs]

Oh my god the writing is so good

— "AND WHILE YOU SLEEP, I'LL BE SCARED." overblot gang 

SYNOPSIS: Your lover waking up from a horrific nightmare and scrambling to listen to your heartbeat so he can make sure you're still alive.

⊹ [ cw ] — angst, hurt/comfort, overblot, blood, glass shards injury, anxiety/panic attacks, insecurities, mentions of death, crying (them)◞

⊹ [ tags ] — ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP. GN! READER | riddle tears his room apart, leona feels immense guilt, caring leona, azul having a panic attack, vil being an absolute mess, vil speaks german, shy idia, jamil injures himself accidentally, jamil calls you 'albi' (my heart), malleus immortality angst ◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.5k+◞

✩—RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

It's far past his scheduled time for sleep.

A bitter taste is bubbling up in his throat and frothing against his tongue. Riddle doesn't know what this wretched feeling is. All he knows is that he's terrified. Perhaps that's why he allows himself to disturb your sleep, the maddening emotions slamming against his head becoming too much for him to handle.

"I-I apologize for waking you," Riddle rasps, slipping into your shared bed and burrowing his face deep into the crook of your neck. His breaths come out in quick and fleeting puffs, heart thrumming hard against his ribs.

In the dimness of the night, the myriad of mangled and torn-up books that were strewn and flung about the room in a frenzied fury could hardly be seen. Your gaze flickered down to your lover. The tips of Riddle's fingers were a blistering raw red, his once well-groomed nails now visibly chipped at its ends.

With a touch of your tender hands, you pull him down to rest against your chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I–I just…I recalled the incident of my overblot and how I hit you with that blast. H-How you nearly—" Clamping his eyes tight, Riddle dared not to finish that sentence. The boy trembles in your arms—ears fervently straining to hear the steady and melodic thump of your heart, a melody he feared he would never hear again.

A choked sob tumbles from his lips and your chest aches.

"…I'm sorry," was his quiet cry. "I'm so sorry."

✩—LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Peacefully fast asleep, your back was nestled snug against the Leona's chest while his firm bicep protectively curled around your ribs.

Over the course of your relationship, Leona began to realize how much he loved having you in his arms. You were at peace when you slept, untouched and untainted by the stress and pain you dealt with every day.

He crept his free hand up your torso, cold fingers slipping underneath your shirt, skimming up your stomach, and settling above the spot on your chest where your heartbeat danced vividly against his touch. Leona splays his fingers out more, fixated on how the thrum of your life felt against his skin.

It was a daily struggle to keep his emotions at bay, ensuring that his strong feelings and magic wouldn't hurt you again. The nightmarish phantom of his blot still haunts him to this day. That wrath was an ugly and hideous beast he wished to keep locked away in the depths of his mind for all of eternity.

Yet, at the soft beat of your delicate heart against his sullied hands—Already, Leona finds himself wavering, uncharacteristically weak.

An overpowering mix of stress and strain washes over him, pooling up into watery blobs and flowing down his cheeks in faint streaks as he silently wept.

"Fuck," Leona curses, pulling your dozing form closer to him. "Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this."

✩—AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

The torment of nightmares was far worse than he remembered, but this dread he felt was unquestionably different, pressing in on him like a frigid cold. The icy sensation seeps into the marrows and dips of his flesh—his sole respite being your touch, which both warmed and scorched at his skin.

"Angelfish." Azul breathlessly sputtered, blindly patting around the bed in search of your body.

Through the fringes of his blacked out vision, he could barely make out your worried drowsy visage. This caused him to panic, pulse picking up, but you were quick to soothe him—reaching a hand out to press against his cheek. Finally finding you, the octo-mer pulled you towards his side of the bed, engulfing you in a tight hug.

Azul tried to stop the flood of tears that layered his face, but your soft lips strewn with kisses on his skin seemed to further elicit his unceasing cries. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Azul. I'm here." You whisper, cradling his face, but he was inconsolable. The octo-mer desperately clawed at your shirt as he pressed his ear deeper against your chest, practically melting into you.

The throbs of your heart echoed through his anguished mind, providing him with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't go….Please…" Azul sputters, body shaking from every deep, labored heave of his burning lungs, "Please."

✩—JAMIL VIPER:

A strangled scream awoke you from your abyssal sleep, your bleary eyes ripping open to dart here and there around the room in a manic frenzy. The ensuing shattering smash of a glass further threw your thoughts into disarray.

"Jamil?!"

Your lover had stumbled off of the bed, now kneeling against the wooden flooring with the bedsheets pooling around his hips, sheets damp from the shattered glass of water on the floor.

A bloody hand clenched at his palpitating heart, glass shards digging into his skin, as his lungs fought to maintain his breathing.

You sprang from the mattress and skidded in his direction, but Jamil scrambled away from you.

"Albi, no. There's glass. Stay away. You're going to get hurt," Jamil stammered. Holding a shaky hand up, the boy avoided your gaze.

"Jamil—" Brows pinched together, you eased towards him. "I'm not going to get hurt, don't worry."

You stepped over the shards of crystal glass with caution and made your way past, "See?"

Once you were within his reach, Jamil caved in and slowly brought you into his arms—careful with his injury. He could feel the distant sting of the cuts on his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Leaning down, he lay his head over your heart. Even though the batter of your heart was frantic and panicked, it somewhat provided a steady beat for him to follow as he worked to untangle the complexities in his thoughts. Your lover sunk against you, anchoring himself against the warmth your body radiated.

✩—IDIA SHROUD:

As the minutes pass, Idia was rapidly losing every meagre amount of confidence he managed to scrape together.

"Idia…honey? Please get up." You croon, running a hand through his flaming hair.

Though it seemed as if he didn't hear anything—Idia kept his head glued against your beating chest, refusing to get up from his position on the floor.

He's been kneeling before you for so long that the rough fabric of his pants burned and skidded against the tender skin of his knees, sending excruciating stings along the threads of his flesh.

"I—No…N-No…I can't." Idia's lips quiver, eyes glossing over as he diverts his gaze. The weight of his arms lay heavy against your legs, elbows resting by your knees while his dull nails dug into the skin at the back of your thighs.

"Why's that?" You whisper.

Idia shut his eyes. The flash of numerous dreams and nightmares he's suffered at the hands of his own demented twisted memories clouded his mind. It did not help that they were all molded out of his own self-inflicted pessimism...cruel and unforgiving. A reason as to why he couldn't bear to look at you tonight, not when the image of your mangled body was still fresh on his mind.

"I-I'm s-sor-sorry…I ca-can't get up…I need to…” he stumbles for words, his breathing picking up its pace. "I need to…need to know you're okay."

✩—VIL SCHOENHEIT:

"Vil…" You worriedly murmur, pressing your lips against his mascara-stained cheeks, not minding the bitter aftertaste it left lingering in your mouth.

Laying atop the plush silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the dorm leader's eyes were ripped wide open as his chest heaved viciously. It was quite a rare sight as your lover lay vulnerable before you, heart bared open.

Oh, he was an absolute mess.

Dark streams of teary mascara ran down Vil's cheeks, his uniform wrinkled and his golden hair splayed out everywhere—unbound from its braids and tangled up.

The grip of his arms around your midsection tightens as he pressed you up closer against him, his head resting atop your chest. At the sound of your heartbeat, Vil allowed himself to unwind and let your affections banish away even the most ominous of his thoughts.

"Liebling…Es tut mir ehrlich Leid—" Vil rasps, his mother tongue dripping like honey from his lips as he suddenly found it difficult to speak the language he was so accustomed to every day.

Hushing him, you press a fleeting kiss against his brow line and Vil clamps his red-rimmed eyes shut, ceasing to say anything more.

"Hush now. Rest, my prince." You press a gentle kiss to his temple and brush the frizzes of his blonde hair away from his face.

A small smile quirks on his lips as he feels his stomach fluttering from the nickname. The look in his eyes is softly lit, warm like a candle.

✩—MALLEUS DRACONIA:

One day, Malleus knows, you will be nothing more than wilted and withered ash.

It was a truth that wrapped around him like shackling chains—tearing, whipping and lashing against his raw, bare skin. No matter how hard he pulled, scratched, and screamed at it, the chains remained.

The clanging and grating iron truth about reality cannot be so easily pushed away. Human lives are fickle, and you would inevitably leave him.

Once you do, the fae prince knows he will be a mere shadow of his former self, a wretched and lonesome creature awaiting and longing for his lover who was no more than a ghost of his fleeting memories.

"I apologize for the disturbance, my treasure."

And yet, Malleus presses his hand firmly against your beating heart. A distant marching beat serving as his reminder that you were very much alive and well.

"I truly apologize." Malleus heaves, hands clamouring against your collarbone.

Although thick tension and silence still hung heavy in the air, the dragon basked in the warmth and feel of your flushed skin, a bitter smile gracing his lips as he lay beside you on the bed.

"Sweet dreams, beastie…"

—TAGLIST:

꒰ ♡🧷: if you want to be tagged for ALL of my works, comment here!

@keedas @spadecentral @crypticbibliophile @pastellepastary @cassidycampfire @cocomollo @poisonioushearts @kawaiipotatoghost @ramvuda @sweeneyblue1 @the-lost-anime-dad @kyraxiyn   @skadi-winterfell @mushroomchaos101 @rainybeebs @taruruchi @fluffimemes @awkwardspontaneity @phoneandchips @gussuri

[hisui-dreamer]

Leona and Jamil got me down so bad arhiehslshdj

I'm crying I wanna give them a hug😭😭😭

— "AND WHILE YOU SLEEP, I'LL BE SCARED." overblot gang 

SYNOPSIS: Your lover waking up from a horrific nightmare and scrambling to listen to your heartbeat so he can make sure you're still alive.

⊹ [ cw ] — angst, hurt/comfort, overblot, blood, glass shards injury, anxiety/panic attacks, insecurities, mentions of death, crying (them)◞

⊹ [ tags ] — ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP. GN! READER | riddle tears his room apart, leona feels immense guilt, caring leona, azul having a panic attack, vil being an absolute mess, vil speaks german, shy idia, jamil injures himself accidentally, jamil calls you 'albi' (my heart), malleus immortality angst ◞

⊹ [ w.c ] — 1.5k+◞

✩—RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS:

It's far past his scheduled time for sleep.

A bitter taste is bubbling up in his throat and frothing against his tongue. Riddle doesn't know what this wretched feeling is. All he knows is that he's terrified. Perhaps that's why he allows himself to disturb your sleep, the maddening emotions slamming against his head becoming too much for him to handle.

"I-I apologize for waking you," Riddle rasps, slipping into your shared bed and burrowing his face deep into the crook of your neck. His breaths come out in quick and fleeting puffs, heart thrumming hard against his ribs.

In the dimness of the night, the myriad of mangled and torn-up books that were strewn and flung about the room in a frenzied fury could hardly be seen. Your gaze flickered down to your lover. The tips of Riddle's fingers were a blistering raw red, his once well-groomed nails now visibly chipped at its ends.

With a touch of your tender hands, you pull him down to rest against your chest.

"What's wrong?"

"I–I just…I recalled the incident of my overblot and how I hit you with that blast. H-How you nearly—" Clamping his eyes tight, Riddle dared not to finish that sentence. The boy trembles in your arms—ears fervently straining to hear the steady and melodic thump of your heart, a melody he feared he would never hear again.

A choked sob tumbles from his lips and your chest aches.

"…I'm sorry," was his quiet cry. "I'm so sorry."

✩—LEONA KINGSCHOLAR:

Peacefully fast asleep, your back was nestled snug against the Leona's chest while his firm bicep protectively curled around your ribs.

Over the course of your relationship, Leona began to realize how much he loved having you in his arms. You were at peace when you slept, untouched and untainted by the stress and pain you dealt with every day.

He crept his free hand up your torso, cold fingers slipping underneath your shirt, skimming up your stomach, and settling above the spot on your chest where your heartbeat danced vividly against his touch. Leona splays his fingers out more, fixated on how the thrum of your life felt against his skin.

It was a daily struggle to keep his emotions at bay, ensuring that his strong feelings and magic wouldn't hurt you again. The nightmarish phantom of his blot still haunts him to this day. That wrath was an ugly and hideous beast he wished to keep locked away in the depths of his mind for all of eternity.

Yet, at the soft beat of your delicate heart against his sullied hands—Already, Leona finds himself wavering, uncharacteristically weak.

An overpowering mix of stress and strain washes over him, pooling up into watery blobs and flowing down his cheeks in faint streaks as he silently wept.

"Fuck," Leona curses, pulling your dozing form closer to him. "Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry. You don't deserve this."

✩—AZUL ASHENGROTTO:

The torment of nightmares was far worse than he remembered, but this dread he felt was unquestionably different, pressing in on him like a frigid cold. The icy sensation seeps into the marrows and dips of his flesh—his sole respite being your touch, which both warmed and scorched at his skin.

"Angelfish." Azul breathlessly sputtered, blindly patting around the bed in search of your body.

Through the fringes of his blacked out vision, he could barely make out your worried drowsy visage. This caused him to panic, pulse picking up, but you were quick to soothe him—reaching a hand out to press against his cheek. Finally finding you, the octo-mer pulled you towards his side of the bed, engulfing you in a tight hug.

Azul tried to stop the flood of tears that layered his face, but your soft lips strewn with kisses on his skin seemed to further elicit his unceasing cries. 

"I'm not going anywhere, Azul. I'm here." You whisper, cradling his face, but he was inconsolable. The octo-mer desperately clawed at your shirt as he pressed his ear deeper against your chest, practically melting into you.

The throbs of your heart echoed through his anguished mind, providing him with some semblance of comfort.

"Don't go….Please…" Azul sputters, body shaking from every deep, labored heave of his burning lungs, "Please."

✩—JAMIL VIPER:

A strangled scream awoke you from your abyssal sleep, your bleary eyes ripping open to dart here and there around the room in a manic frenzy. The ensuing shattering smash of a glass further threw your thoughts into disarray.

"Jamil?!"

Your lover had stumbled off of the bed, now kneeling against the wooden flooring with the bedsheets pooling around his hips, sheets damp from the shattered glass of water on the floor.

A bloody hand clenched at his palpitating heart, glass shards digging into his skin, as his lungs fought to maintain his breathing.

You sprang from the mattress and skidded in his direction, but Jamil scrambled away from you.

"Albi, no. There's glass. Stay away. You're going to get hurt," Jamil stammered. Holding a shaky hand up, the boy avoided your gaze.

"Jamil—" Brows pinched together, you eased towards him. "I'm not going to get hurt, don't worry."

You stepped over the shards of crystal glass with caution and made your way past, "See?"

Once you were within his reach, Jamil caved in and slowly brought you into his arms—careful with his injury. He could feel the distant sting of the cuts on his hands, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Leaning down, he lay his head over your heart. Even though the batter of your heart was frantic and panicked, it somewhat provided a steady beat for him to follow as he worked to untangle the complexities in his thoughts. Your lover sunk against you, anchoring himself against the warmth your body radiated.

✩—IDIA SHROUD:

As the minutes pass, Idia was rapidly losing every meagre amount of confidence he managed to scrape together.

"Idia…honey? Please get up." You croon, running a hand through his flaming hair.

Though it seemed as if he didn't hear anything—Idia kept his head glued against your beating chest, refusing to get up from his position on the floor.

He's been kneeling before you for so long that the rough fabric of his pants burned and skidded against the tender skin of his knees, sending excruciating stings along the threads of his flesh.

"I—No…N-No…I can't." Idia's lips quiver, eyes glossing over as he diverts his gaze. The weight of his arms lay heavy against your legs, elbows resting by your knees while his dull nails dug into the skin at the back of your thighs.

"Why's that?" You whisper.

Idia shut his eyes. The flash of numerous dreams and nightmares he's suffered at the hands of his own demented twisted memories clouded his mind. It did not help that they were all molded out of his own self-inflicted pessimism...cruel and unforgiving. A reason as to why he couldn't bear to look at you tonight, not when the image of your mangled body was still fresh on his mind.

"I-I'm s-sor-sorry…I ca-can't get up…I need to…” he stumbles for words, his breathing picking up its pace. "I need to…need to know you're okay."

✩—VIL SCHOENHEIT:

"Vil…" You worriedly murmur, pressing your lips against his mascara-stained cheeks, not minding the bitter aftertaste it left lingering in your mouth.

Laying atop the plush silk sheets of his king-sized bed, the dorm leader's eyes were ripped wide open as his chest heaved viciously. It was quite a rare sight as your lover lay vulnerable before you, heart bared open.

Oh, he was an absolute mess.

Dark streams of teary mascara ran down Vil's cheeks, his uniform wrinkled and his golden hair splayed out everywhere—unbound from its braids and tangled up.

The grip of his arms around your midsection tightens as he pressed you up closer against him, his head resting atop your chest. At the sound of your heartbeat, Vil allowed himself to unwind and let your affections banish away even the most ominous of his thoughts.

"Liebling…Es tut mir ehrlich Leid—" Vil rasps, his mother tongue dripping like honey from his lips as he suddenly found it difficult to speak the language he was so accustomed to every day.

Hushing him, you press a fleeting kiss against his brow line and Vil clamps his red-rimmed eyes shut, ceasing to say anything more.

"Hush now. Rest, my prince." You press a gentle kiss to his temple and brush the frizzes of his blonde hair away from his face.

A small smile quirks on his lips as he feels his stomach fluttering from the nickname. The look in his eyes is softly lit, warm like a candle.

✩—MALLEUS DRACONIA:

One day, Malleus knows, you will be nothing more than wilted and withered ash.

It was a truth that wrapped around him like shackling chains—tearing, whipping and lashing against his raw, bare skin. No matter how hard he pulled, scratched, and screamed at it, the chains remained.

The clanging and grating iron truth about reality cannot be so easily pushed away. Human lives are fickle, and you would inevitably leave him.

Once you do, the fae prince knows he will be a mere shadow of his former self, a wretched and lonesome creature awaiting and longing for his lover who was no more than a ghost of his fleeting memories.

"I apologize for the disturbance, my treasure."

And yet, Malleus presses his hand firmly against your beating heart. A distant marching beat serving as his reminder that you were very much alive and well.

"I truly apologize." Malleus heaves, hands clamouring against your collarbone.

Although thick tension and silence still hung heavy in the air, the dragon basked in the warmth and feel of your flushed skin, a bitter smile gracing his lips as he lay beside you on the bed.

"Sweet dreams, beastie…"

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