OPERATION CINDERELLA-SABOTAGE [HEARTSLABYUL]

The Prefect’s Kiss~!

—When a Night Raven College housewarden falls under the Sleeping Curse, only one person can wake them up.

Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia x gn! Reader

Riddle, Azul, Kalim ver.

“Oh! How terrible! Oh woe is me! How could this happen?!”

Crowley wailed at the news, sobbing fake tears beneath his mask. “What will I tell the parents?! The press?! How will I be able to afford vacation- I MEAN funding for my wonderful students?!”

Crewel rolled his eyes. He’d actually feel sorry for the Headmage if he was actually crying tears. The tissue clutched in Crowley’s fist was still dry.

Trein sighed, “this is the antidote recipe for Sleeping Death. Although, the materials are extremely hard to come by.” Crewel scanned the paper, noting the ingredients. “The recipe is possible, although they are quite expensive.” Crowley cringed, “how much will it be?” He screeched at the amount Trein said.

Meanwhile, Crewel muttered to himself. “The only other option is possibly true love’s kiss.” He looked up, “well, I’ll get the ingredients first thing in the-“ He stopped. Where Crowley was standing, was now a few black feathers fluttering down to the carpet. Crewel’s face fell, “oh no…”

In Ramshackle dorm, the Headmage chuckled nervously, sweating. You stared in disbelief, “I… honestly can’t believe that happened?” You were beyond shocked to hear that a Housewarden of all students had been knocked out with Sleeping Death. Crowley nodded wisely, “And I have decided to generously ask you to do the honors!”

“Huh?!” You stared incredulously at the Headmage as he ushered you out the door. He looked cheerful, “ah, aren’t I so gracious? I’m reuniting you with your true love!” You stared at him, jaw dropped, “HUH?!”

Leona Kingscholar

💛 “Are you sure he’s under a sleeping curse?” you asked, before Crowley shoved you through the Savanaclaw mirror without a second thought. You were left with more questions than answers. Namely, could you actually be his true love? It wasn’t like Leona really showed a lot of affection to anybody really. Sure, he didn’t chase you away when you bothered him in the greenhouse. And you supposed that he did help you a lot on your homework, even though he grumbled under his breath.

💛 Your own crush on Leona was painfully obvious. Sometimes you’d go out of your way to the greenhouses, or take some tasks from Ruggie to deliver things to him. You tried to keep your feelings in check. Despite his laid-back attitude and nonchalance, he was still a prince. And you were just a herbivore, as he always reminded you. Too bad you’d pout and look away every time - otherwise, you’d notice the soft look on his face when he called you that nickname.

💛 As you walked through the common room, you saw how panicked Jack looked, tail thumping against his legs. Ruggie lead you to Leona’s room without a single joke or clever comment, You noted how agitated he looked - his hair was a mess from running his hands through it.

💛 To be honest, if you didn’t know otherwise, you would’ve thought Leona was fine. But the moment you stepped foot into his room, you didn’t hear Leona’s light snores or see his chest moving as he breathed. He was completely still.

Sunlight streamed in, catching on Leona’s hair. You brushed some of it aside, thumbing one of his braids absently, “how long has he been like this?”

Ruggie sighed heavily, carding a hand in his disheveled hair. “Not sure. We… we all thought he was just napping.” He swallowed thickly, “just… get me if you need me. I have to wash his laundry.” You watched as Ruggie hefted a basket and left. Your attention went back to Leona.

“You’ve got everybody so worked up,” You bit your lip, surprising yourself as your eyes began welling up. “You’d probably think it’s funny. But I…” You gulped. “…miss you.”

You took a deep breath and softly slotted your lips against his. For an agonizing moment you thought it didn’t work. Until Leona groaned. “Hhh- hmm?” You pulled away quickly.

Leona’s ears twitched, and you felt yourself grow flustered when you made eye contact. You gawked, “I-it worked?” He shifted upright, giving you a lazy smirk. “Huh, never took you for the romantic type, Prefect. You went straight for True Love’s Kiss.”

You felt your face grow hot, but you couldn’t find it in you to feel embarrassed. Relief filled you, and you felt yourself relax as Leona loosely wrapped you in his arms. “Yeah whatever, you lazy lion.”

His hand reached up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing away a tear. He brought his forehead to yours with a soft grin, “Ha, you really are just a herbivore,” he said fondly.

Vil Schoenheit

💜 The moment Rook burst into your dorm, Crowley suddenly vanished. Before you could react, Rook was already leading you down to the Mirrors, bringing you up to speed on what happened. The nervousness didn’t really set in until Rook began singing when you entered the dorm, “finally! Le Roi du Poison’s savior has arrived!”

💜 Apparently, Vil thought he was drinking apple juice from the fridge, but it was actually Epel’s mislabeled draught that he made as his potion. Oh how the tables had turned. At least Epel knew it worked. Task failed successfully?

💜 Everything you learned in Crewel’s class about Sleeping Death was swirling in your head. True Love was no small thing. Especially when it came to Vil. It didn’t matter that he seemed to soften whenever he looked at you, or that he paid extra attention to how you carried yourself. Or how often he had ‘extra’ beauty products and clothes that just happened to be your size.

💜 Epel was looked dejected when you saw him, and looked away from you. Rook solemnly led you to Vil’s room, and bowed as he opened the door “True love will prevail, mon cher trickster! I have no doubt in your abilities!” Thanks Rook, you’re not helping. Look, (Y/N) is even more nervous now.

Even in sleep, Vil looked picture perfect. You quietly padded into his room, perching softly next to him. He laid on his back, and hands were clasped over his torso. It looked like a scene out of a movie, you thought.

You gently brushed some hair out of Vil’s face, “it’s so unlike you to make careless mistakes,” you said out loud. Silence hung in the air. “Even Epel wants you back, y’know.” You frowned, pursing your lips.

“I… I really hope this works,” your voice cracked. You didn’t know what you’d do if it didn’t. You never thought you’d actually kiss a celebrity, let alone Vil, but somehow you were here. “Please don’t be too mad at me if… when you wake up.”

You took a deep breath and softly kissed him. You gasped and pulled away when you heard him breathe deeply, and Vil’s eyes fluttered open. “Prefect? What are you doing here?” Vil sat up and you felt your mouth grow dry.

You rushed out, “you were under Sleeping Death, and Rook brought me here-!” Vil shushed you gently, “so, you gave me True Love’s Kiss as the antidote?” You nodded hesitantly. Vil gazed at you, looking thoughtful.

He took your chin, looking at your mouth. “Hmm, it seems your chapstick wore off. No matter, you can use mine.” You were about to thank him when he snatched a tube of balm off his nightstand. You watched, dumbfounded, as he applied it to his own lips before capping it.

“This formula is my own blend,” he said casually before looking back at you with a glint in his eye, “and I’ve been wanting to test how it transfers.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your head so you’d look at him. He had a soft, fond smirk, “you’ll help me, won’t you?”

Idia Shroud

🩵 Halfway through Crowley’s speech about True Love, Ortho burst through Ramshackle and began dragging you to Ignihyde. You probably would’ve been upset at the intrusion (and the bill to fix the door), but the robot boy looked so devastated. “You have to save big brother!”

🩵 Apparently, Idia thought he was mixing energy drinks together but he ended up putting Sleeping Death in his drink. Through Ortho’s explanation, Idia was pregaming for an all nighter of farming for the new SSR he pulled, and put the wrong drink in his exhausted-gambling-victory haze. You couldn’t say you were surprised. One of the things you liked about Idia was how passionate he could get.

🩵 Whether it was gaming, tech, or programming, it was always a treat to get Ignihyde’s resident shut-in to talk to you, the ends of his hair turning blush pink. Whenever you visited, Idia always had your favorite snacks and drinks. It came to a point where he had a whole gaming setup made for you, with your own chair and headset.

🩵 The two of you would spend hours gaming, taking the occasional break to watch anime or do snack runs. Idia always seemed a little more inclined to get out of his room if it was with you. During those times, Ortho seemed to hum with excitement. Some days, Idia even lent you one of his hoodies after you begged. Now, the lights of Idia’s screens were off, and the room felt even colder.

The only lights in the room were Idia’s and Ortho’s hair, glowing a soft blue in the dark. Ortho hovered anxiously as you walked to Idia. His hair illuminated his face, and he looked almost like a marble statue.

You suddenly realized how long you’d been staring at him, and became aware of Ortho when you heard his joints clinking nervously. “Hey, Ortho,” you said soothingly, “could you wait outside for me? It’ll just be for a few minutes. I’ll do my best to help.” You tried to smile like you had everything under control, but as Ortho left, you suddenly felt the weight of the situation.

Like a moth to a flame, your attention drifted back to Idia. The light from his hair softly cast a blue glow on him, and you sighed softly. You brushed your thumb against Idia’s cheek, moving your face closer to his. “Please wake up,” you pursed your lips, “for Ortho. For… for me.” Softly you pressed your lips against his.

You pulled away with a small gasp, inches apart. Idia breathed in deeply, face scrunching up. His eyes slowly opened, blinking blearily. “H-huh? Prefect?!” Immediately, Idia’s hair whooshed in dark blue flames tipped with scarlet, “What are you doing so close to my face?!” You pulled back immediately, eyes wide.

Ortho zoomed back into the room, “I sensed movement! Big brother! You’re awake!~” Ortho looked up at you innocently, “it looks like you’re his True Love after all!” Idia stared at you for a second, then his hair turned dark pink. “Wh-WHAT?!” The room suddenly felt several degrees hotter. Or maybe that was just your flustered face. Still, Idia’s nervousness lessened when he saw your eyes shine at Ortho’s words.

“S-so, uh…” Idia chewed his lip, “do you wanna stay over tonight?” Ortho looked excited, “do you want to stay forever?” Idia choked, “Ack- ORTHO!”

Malleus Draconia

💚 Saying you were shocked was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that the Malleus Draconia was under a sleeping curse, and you ran to Diasomnia before the Headmage could finish speaking.

💚 You’d thought it was strange that he didn’t show up last night. As per tradition, you’d wait up for him each night and the two of you would walk the grounds, enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes, Malleus would do small magic tricks - summoning balls of light, fireflies, even conjuring some thornless crimson roses and tucking them behind your ears.

💚 You began to look forward to seeing him. You’d watch in awe with your eyes sparkling, and Malleus couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this euphoric. And it was all thanks to you. So he’d try to show it through gifts. A dragon never parts easily with their treasures, but at this point, Ramshackle seemed like his second hoard. Though secretly, you were the most precious jewel there.

💚 When you got there, you saw Sebek wailing and Silver with a panicked look outside of Malleus’ room. “We’ve failed our duty! My Liege!” Sebek nearly broke your eardrums but you couldn’t find it in your heart to hush him. Silver nodded to you solemnly, and let you in the room. Lilia was with Malleus alone. You approached them silently, never taking your eyes off Malleus.

“How did this happen?” You whispered, sitting on the other side of the bed. . Lilia sighed, patting Malleus’ hands, “I’m not sure. He simply went to bed, and…” You bit your lip, feeling your eyes well up.

Lilia watched you carefully, frowning. “Did the Headmage tell you it was Sleeping Death?” You nodded, “h-he said I was…” you swallowed, “he said I could help.” You badly wanted to help.

You sniffled, tears running down your eyes onto Malleus’ cheeks. You whispered “Tsunotarou… you have to wake up,” before pressing your lips to his. You felt the slow rise and fall of his chest, and you slowly pulled away, hopeful. To your dismay, he stayed still, and you choked a sob, shoving your face into Lilia’s shoulder. “Try again, he should wake up soon” he whispered, patting you gently. You slotted your lips on Malleus’ again, closing your eyes.

You weren’t sure how long you were there. At last, Malleus stirred awake, and you pulled away with a gasp. He blinked twice, before realizing you were there. The small smile he gave you made your insides melt, “Child of Man,” he breathed, “to what do I owe this kiss to awaken me?” You sniffled, laughing as Malleus’ hand wiped away the last of your tears.

“I-I thought you weren’t going to wake up,” you wavered, “they told me I had to kiss you awake.” You weren’t completely coherent as you threw yourself on him, making him fall back into the mattress as you clutched him. He rubbed your back softly, hushing you. “Thank you,” he murmured, “this means more to me than you know.”

You sighed, relaxing against him. Slowly, you felt your eyelids grow heavy as the stress of the day wore on you. As you drifted off to sleep, Lilia watched you both with a small smile. “You know Malleus, they were worried about you. And Silver and Sebek were, too.” Lilia suddenly had a small mischievous smile, “perhaps I should use my electric guitar on you, like when I try to wake Silver?”

Malleus hummed as he held your sleeping form, “well, I suppose my ‘Power Nap,’ as you call it, did last longer than the average hour.”

———

Last part is up!!! Hope you enjoyed this is mini-series 😄

Comments, reblogs, and likes are forever appreciated!! Take care shrimpies~~

Xoxo Calci

"Prefect, have you seen Rook anywhere?"

Epel looked distraught. He had spent the last three hours searching for his upperclassman, only to come up empty handed. He was now searching the courtyard again to no avail and was hoping you could give him a hand.

"Oh, yeah. He's been following me around all day," you answered.

"What?" Epel looked doubtful. His eyes scanned the empty paved path behind you. "How do you know?"

"Watch this."

You raised your hands above your head, forming a nice ring shape. No sooner did you lock your fingers together in the air than an arrow whizzed between your arms. It struck the ground right in front of Epel and chipped off part of the sidewalk.

Epel let out a swear and stepped back. "Wha' in tarnation was that!?"

You let your arms fall back down. "I think it's some kind of game. Rook hasn't actually spoken to me since he started doing it, but it's kinda fun. We've been practicing."

You Being Super Oblivious Of Them Flirting With You

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/light romance - no prns .

- [𝐜𝐡.] 3rd years

- [𝐩:𝐬] slow burn . one-sided pinning (resolved) . light comedy . mild suggestiveness . teasing/banter . slight jealousy

Note: I sat down to write cute flirty headcanons and instead accidentally wrote all of these guys having a romantic breakdown in about their crush being so oblivious about the flirting. 💀 Then I thought they where good and just decided to go with that as the prompt!

Trey Clover

It had been going on for weeks.

Subtle, harmless gestures at first—sharing his homemade treats, seeking you out in the hallways between classes, and always making sure there was a spare seat beside him at Heartslabyul’s long, rose-lined table. You always took it. Smiling up at him, laughing at his jokes, even leaning against his shoulder sometimes when the evenings stretched long and drowsy under the golden canopy of dusk.

And yet.

You were completely, utterly oblivious.

“You’re really good at baking, Trey,” you complimented one day as he handed you a small, ribbon-tied box of matcha-flavored sweets, his personal recipe he never shared. You bit into one, eyes lighting up in delight. “I don’t know how someone like you is still single.”

Trey blinked.

“...Someone like me?”

“Yeah! Tall, dependable, cute smile—you’re like...dad boyfriend material.”

If he had been drinking tea, he might’ve choked.

Dad boyfriend material?!

Despite the polite, affable smile he wore, a faint twitch of disbelief rippled across his temple. Trey had dropped so many hints—letting you taste frosting off his finger in the kitchen, gently brushing your hair out of your eyes when you leaned too close to the oven, even calling you “sweetheart” under his breath when you dozed off during a study session.

And yet, here you were. Thinking he was some domestic teddy bear.

The final straw came during a Heartslabyul tea party, when you reached over to wipe a crumb from the corner of his mouth with your thumb, completely unaware of how red his ears turned.

“You’re always such a mess after eating cake,” you scolded gently.

“You do realize,” he said slowly, looking into your eyes with a rare, unreadable intensity, “that I only ever bring you the first slice.”

“Huh? I just thought I was lucky!” you grinned.

That did it.

He leaned in, lowering his voice as he caged you between the chair and the hedge behind. His gloved hand gently tipped your chin up. “I’ve been flirting with you for months,” he murmured. “How much more obvious do I have to be, shortcake?”

Your mouth dropped open. “Wha—wait, what?!”

Trey laughed softly, finally letting his forehead rest against yours, the tension melting into something warm, golden, and soft. “I swear, you’re sweeter than my tarts and twice as dense.”

Cater Diamond

“Okay, I give up,” Cater announced dramatically, collapsing face-down on the common room couch. “I’ve tried everything, and they still don’t get it.”

From behind his phone screen, he peeked at you sitting nearby, nose buried in a magazine, completely unaware of his suffering.

It had started as a game at first—light teasing, exaggerated winks, the occasional compliment laced with glittering charm.

“Looking good today, babe~” he’d say, snapping a selfie of the two of you while slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“Thanks, Cater! You look amazing too, as always!”

But you always said it like a friend. With zero hesitation, zero fluster, zero realization. You treated his affection like background noise—a quirk of his personality.

Even when he’d rested his head in your lap after a long day and looked up at you with dreamy, sleepy eyes and whispered, “You’d make a perfect boyfriend, y'know... if you’d let me,” you just chuckled and patted his hair.

“Aw, Cater, that’s sweet. You’d be a great boyfriend for someone, definitely.”

Someone.

SOMEONE.

He practically screamed into his pillow when he got back to his dorm that night.

Every day since then had been a desperate escalation. He started bringing you your favorite snacks, styling your hair for fun, sending you good morning texts with pet names like “sunshine” or “my star.” You responded with gifs. Gifs.

Finally, in a move of last-ditch desperation, he planned the boldest romantic gesture he could think of.

Cater rented out the photo booth in town, the one with the glitter backgrounds and soft lighting. He dragged you inside under the pretense of wanting “a bestie shoot,” and waited for the moment the countdown began.

Three…

Two…

One—

He turned, cupped your face, and kissed your cheek.

Click. Flash.

You blinked at him.

“Cater?? What was that for?”

He stared.

“No, seriously. Are you okay? Did you think I was sad or something? You can talk to me, y’know.”

Cater threw his hands up and groaned.

“You’re the one I like!! You! Not as a friend, not as a selfie buddy, not as a human pillow—I like you, you dense little cinnamon bun!”

Your eyes widened. “Wait. Are you flirting with me?”

He looked like he aged five years in five seconds.

“Yes. YES, BABE. That’s what the last four months were. Flirting. Full-throttle, heart-eyes, rom-com level flirting!”

“…Oh.”

A pause. Then, sheepishly:

“So… wanna take another photo? This time, maybe I kiss you on the lips?”

Cater blinked at your soft smile and the way your hand found his.

And just like that, every ounce of frustration melted into sparkly euphoria. “Oh my Seven,” he whispered with a grin. “Finally.”

Leona Kingscholar

Leona was not a man known for patience. In fact, most of the time, he prided himself on getting what he wanted with the least amount of effort. He was sharp, cunning, and confident enough to know that most people would bend over backward just to get a sliver of his attention. So when he set his sights on you—you, with your soft laugh, bright eyes, and completely clueless smile—he assumed it would be easy.

It wasn’t.

It started small. He’d lounge in the botanical gardens where he knew you always came to study. He made sure to growl off anyone else who might sit nearby, leaving the two of you in your own little secluded corner. He'd toss you the occasional compliment, his voice lazy and low.

“Tch. That look suits you, herbivore. Finally got some style.”

You’d blink at him with that warm, clueless grin. “Oh? Thanks, Leona. My friend helped me pick this outfit.”

He resisted the urge to growl. Again.

Then he escalated. He’d sit closer—closer than anyone would consider “just friends.” He'd drop hints laced with suggestion, his amber eyes narrowing when you remained oblivious. He once even played with your hair, idly running his fingers through it while you yawned and continued taking notes on magical herbology.

It got to the point where Ruggie cornered you in the hallway, shaking his head in disbelief. “You seriously don’t get it? He’s basically marking his territory every time you’re near!”

“Huh? Leona? Nah, he’s just... touchy sometimes.”

Leona nearly tore his textbooks in half when he heard that.

The final straw came one warm afternoon when you plopped down beside him under the shade of a sprawling tree. You smiled and passed him a snack you'd made, and Leona, in a bold move of desperation and hunger for your attention, leaned down and bit into it directly from your hand, eyes locked on yours the entire time.

You just blinked and said, “You must’ve been really hungry!”

Leona threw himself backward into the grass with a groan, covering his eyes with his arm.

“Seven hells, you’re dense,” he muttered.

“Huh?”

He sat up again, eyes narrowed, voice husky. “Do I need to spell it out for you, herbivore? I’m not just hanging around you ‘cause I’m bored. I’m trying to get you to notice me.”

You tilted your head, confused. “But I do notice you…”

“No,” he growled, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly, tugging you closer. “Notice me. As in, I want you. You. Me. Together. You seriously didn’t get that?”

You froze. And then it hit you like a freight train. The closeness, the compliments, the touches, the possessiveness—

“Oh... OH.”

Leona smirked, fangs glinting in the sun. “Took you long enough.”

Vil Schoenheit

Vil was always graceful, always poised, always in control. He calculated every step, every glance, every smile. So naturally, when he decided to pursue you, he did it with the same precision he applied to a stage performance or a red-carpet event. Subtle glances, gentle compliments, a brush of his fingers across your shoulder. It was a slow-burning courtship that he expected would sweep you off your feet.

But instead?

Nothing.

Nothing but your charming smile and occasional, completely unbothered “Thank you, Vil!” or “You’re so sweet!” before skipping off to your next class.

He chalked it up to modesty at first. Maybe you were shy. Maybe you wanted to play hard to get. But by week three, when he sent you a handpicked bouquet of enchanted roses and you gave them to Professor Trein’s cat because “it matched her fur,” Vil nearly fainted on the spot.

So, he got bolder.

One afternoon, he strode into your dorm’s common room while you were curled up on a couch with a book. Wordlessly, he slipped beside you and sat right in your lap, settling as gracefully as ever, legs crossed, arm lazily draped around your shoulders.

You blinked. “Are you tired? You can sit here as long as you need.”

Vil’s eye twitched.

“Tired? No, darling, I wanted to sit somewhere comfortable and charming. Surely you understand the appeal.” He leaned in, his breath tickling your ear. “Or is my lap too forward for your delicate sensibilities?”

You laughed lightly. “Nope! You’re light. I didn’t even notice the weight. Kinda like a cat. A really fashionable one.”

Fashionable cat?!

Vil nearly stood up right then and there, scandalized. But no—he took a deep breath. Composure. Poise.

Until you reached up and started patting his head.

“You’re so pretty, Vil. I hope I can be as pretty as you one day.”

“…I’m not trying to be ‘pretty like you,’ I’m trying to be yours,” he hissed in exasperation, face dangerously close to yours.

You blinked again. “Wait… what?”

Vil’s patience finally snapped like a taut ribbon.

“For the love of all that is radiant—I have been flirting with you for months. I’ve complimented you, made time for you, bought you gifts, and now I am literally sitting on your lap! What more must I do? Wear a sign that says ‘I want to be yours’?”

You gaped at him.

“…I thought you were just naturally dramatic.”

Vil groaned, burying his face in your neck. “You’ll be the death of me.”

You awkwardly wrapped your arms around him, finally catching on. “Wait, so… you like me?”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, expression softening ever so slightly. “I more than like you. But you, sweet potato, are so hopelessly dense.”

You laughed nervously, cheeks burning. “I’m really sorry… but, um… I like you too. I just didn’t think you’d like someone like me.”

Vil huffed, but a genuine smile curled on his lips. “Well, you’re mine now. And you’ll never be oblivious again, because I won’t give you the chance to miss it.”

Rook Hunt

To Rook, this was a challenge—a delicious, exquisite one.

He was well aware of how utterly unaware you were. The first time he realized, it was during archery club. He complimented the way your arms flexed as you pulled the bowstring, his tone sultry, his gaze locked on you like you were his prey.

You grinned and said, “Haha, thanks! I’ve been working out my shoulders. Good for posture!”

He tilted his head, lips curled in amusement. “Ah, ma colombe, you are truly a creature of mystery~”

But instead of giving up, Rook only doubled down. He started leaving flowers at your desk with poetic notes—sometimes with metaphors so thick they practically screamed “I am in love with you!”

You just thought it was a Rook thing.

“You’re so sweet! You write such beautiful stuff. Have you thought of joining the poetry club?”

Poetry club…?! Mon dieu, I am baring my soul!

He even tried the "accidental touch" method—fingers brushing yours when passing a book, hands lingering too long during sparring practice. Yet you never reacted with more than a casual smile and a “You okay?”

And Rook? He found it thrilling.

“This unawareness… this resistance… c’est magnifique!” he whispered one day, watching you from the balcony like a Shakespearean ghost. “You are like a doe in the forest, unaware of the eyes that follow you in reverent adoration…”

The final straw was when he kissed the back of your hand under the moonlight after walking you to your dorm. With an air of mystery and drama, he looked into your eyes and murmured, “Bonsoir, ma lumière…”

You giggled. “Wow, you really should join the drama club. That delivery was incredible.”

Rook clutched his chest like he’d been shot, but he was laughing too. Of course. Of course you didn’t get it.

But that just made him want you more.

“I shall make it my mission to pierce through the veil of innocence that blinds you, mon trésor,” he declared to the stars. “You will see me—not as a friend, not as a fellow student—but as the man who has adored you all this time.”

Idia Shroud

It was exhausting trying to flirt with someone who didn’t even realize you were the final boss in their dating sim.

Idia never considered himself bold—not IRL, anyway. Most of his romantic experience came from watching his OTPs go through slow-burn arcs in visual novels or tragic anime love stories. But when it came to you, he was trying. Like, genuinely. In his own glitchy, socially awkward way.

He’d wait outside your classroom “totally coincidentally” with his tablet in hand, acting like he wasn’t tracking your class schedule to the minute. He even upgraded Ortho’s AI recognition software just to find excuses to walk past you more often. He quoted romantic lines from his favorite games to you, hoping you’d get it—but every single time?

You’d just blink. Smile. Nod like he was being cute.

“Oh, that line was so poetic! Is that from a movie or something?”

“B-bro that’s from Stellar Lust IV! The confession scene where the star-crossed lovers reunite under a dying moon! Are you seriously not…? Nvm.”

One afternoon, he got bold. He invited you to his room. That alone should’ve been a confession—no one entered his sacred gaming lair unless they had maximum trust level.

He cleared off a place on the bed, installed RGB mood lighting, even had anime OSTs playing softly in the background. He hyped himself up for weeks for this. He was going to drop a flirt so obvious, even a level 1 NPC could read it.

“So, u-uh, you ever wonder what it’d be like to… y’know… date a genius tech prince who could hack into the city grid just to turn all the traffic lights green for you?”

You tilted your head. “That sounds dangerous… but also kind of cool? Is this part of your new game concept?”

He.exe stopped working.

The blue flames of his hair turned pink for half a second before sizzling back.

He mumbled something incoherent and turned back to his computer, pulling his hoodie so far over his head he looked like a turtle. “N-no, yeah, that was just… haha… worldbuilding...”

He’d keep trying though. One day, he’d craft a cutscene so perfect, even you couldn’t ignore the affection coded into every line.

Malleus Draconia

Malleus was not used to being ignored. Or overlooked. Or, heaven forbid—misunderstood. He was the Crown Prince of Briar Valley, the most feared and powerful student on campus. And yet, here he was, casting ancient spells to conjure glowing roses and coaxing fireflies into hearts over your tea cup—only for you to respond with:

“Wow, Malleus! You always make things so aesthetic!”

He blinked. "Aesthetic?"

“Yeah! Super vibey. You should be a party planner.”

He nearly short-circuited.

This had been happening for weeks. He’d memorized your schedule, just so he could “coincidentally” be where you were. He’d offer to walk you home under the stars, hoping for soft-spoken confessions—but you only asked him if he thought raccoons had hierarchies in their little trash kingdoms.

...You were enchanting. But you were driving him mad.

One day, after finding yet another love poem he’d slipped into your book returned with grammar corrections (you thought he was practicing his prose), he decided on something bold. Direct. Unmistakable.

“Child of man,” Malleus said one twilight evening as you both sat beneath a tree, “if I were to tell you that my heart beats differently in your presence, that the night air tastes sweeter when you laugh—what would you say?”

You tilted your head, thinking. “I’d say you have a really poetic way of saying you like hanging out.”

“I do not merely like hanging out,” he said slowly, brow twitching. “I wish to court you.”

You stared. “Like… on trial?”

“…Romantically.”

“Ohhhh.”

Silence.

“Wait, me?!”

Malleus closed his eyes and inhaled. Patience. He could wait a thousand years more. But hopefully not.

Lilia Vanrouge

Lilia Vanrouge had seen centuries of war, peace, love, loss—and yet nothing, nothing, had prepared him for the sheer unshakable obliviousness that was you.

It started innocently enough.

He’d toss a wink your way whenever he passed by in the hallway. He brought you little trinkets from the village during his off-campus ventures—flowers woven into chains, sweets with hearts drawn on the wrappers, one time even a hairpin shaped like a bat. You had smiled and thanked him with the kind of radiant purity that could blind a mortal man. And then you tucked the bat hairpin in your pencil case.

Your pencil case. Like he was a math worksheet and not a 700+ year old fae trying to court you.

Still, he found it endearing. You were cute in a way that made his ageless heart ache, and he loved a challenge. So he tried harder.

“You know,” he drawled one afternoon, leaning over your shoulder with a voice like velvet, “in my youth, a suitor might serenade their beloved beneath the moonlight.”

“That’s sweet,” you said, eyes on your textbook. “Did they ever get noise complaints?”

He blinked. “...Noise complaints?”

“Well, if it was late and they were singing outside someone’s window… I bet a lot of people weren’t exactly swooning.”

For a moment, Lilia just stared at you. And then he burst out laughing, so hard he had to wipe a tear from his eye.

“You are either brilliantly teasing me,” he chuckled, “or heartbreakingly naive.”

You smiled at him, not understanding in the slightest.

The final straw came when he invited you for a midnight flight—romantic, intimate, just the two of you soaring above the moon-drenched trees. You screamed with laughter and clung to him the entire way, yelling about how cool it was and how friends like him were the best.

“Friends,” Lilia repeated afterward, voice soft and low as you happily ate the little picnic he’d prepared.

You looked up. “Yeah. I’m lucky to have you.”

He sighed with a small, defeated smile, but his eyes were warm. “The luck,” he murmured, “is all mine, dear.”

LEONA X READER

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

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

loved this one <3

Leona hated his Unique Magic. Always had.

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

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

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

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

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

“You want me to what, herbivore?”

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

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

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

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

He blinked. “Come again?”

“The sand you make. From your UM.”

You lifted the shard to show him its jagged edge.

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

Leona sat up slowly.

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

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

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

Leona almost told you to piss off. Almost.

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

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

King’s Roar.

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

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

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

He raised a brow. “It’s just sand.”

“No, it’s potential.”

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

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

Always with cracked glass or ruined sculptures.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He didn’t know what to say to that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leona stared. His mouth went dry.

“…Why?”

You tilted your head.

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

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

He closed his hand around the glass lion slowly.

“…You’re weird, you know that?”

You smiled. “You’ve mentioned it.”

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

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

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

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

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

His tail flicked.

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

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

And he felt—maybe—for once—

Useful.

Hi! I really like your headcanons! I was wondering if I could make a request for sebek, azul, jade, trey, and rook? Or whichever you want! The prompt: they forget they had a date with you and stood you up accidentally

Accidently Standing You Up On A Date

( ✧ ) ────── boyfriend stories . fluff/drama - she/her .

- [𝐜𝐡.] trey . azul . jade . rook. sebek

- [𝐩:𝐬] nothing rlly

Note: Thank you so much for enjoying my hcs!! ＞︿＜

Trey Clover

Trey is usually responsible and dependable, so when he realizes he completely forgot your date, he feels a wave of guilt wash over him. It probably hits him when he's in the middle of baking or helping out with a club activity, and suddenly, it clicks: he was supposed to meet you an hour ago.

Panic isn’t usually Trey’s thing, but right now, he’s scrambling. He quickly wipes his flour-covered hands, grabs his phone, and sees several missed messages from you. His heart sinks. Trey knows he’s messed up big time, and he doesn’t waste another moment.

Rushing over to where he was supposed to meet you, he spots you sitting alone, looking a mix of sad and disappointed. He takes a deep breath to calm his nerves before approaching you.

“Hey...” he calls softly, guilt heavy in his tone. As you look up, he’s already beside you, his usual calm smile tinged with regret. “I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I completely lost track of time. I know that’s no excuse. You must have been waiting for a while.”

Trey would be the type to offer a heartfelt apology without making any excuses. He’d carefully listen to you vent your feelings if you needed to, never once interrupting or brushing it off. When you finish, he gently takes your hand.

“To make it up to you, how about we go out right now? I’ll take you anywhere you want—no distractions, just us. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. And... I’ll bake your favorite treats tonight. Please let me make this right.”

Trey’s sincerity and his gentle, caring nature would shine through. You know he genuinely didn’t mean to hurt you, and seeing him so remorseful makes it hard to stay mad for long.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul prides himself on his organization and punctuality, so when he realizes he’s missed the date, his reaction is a mixture of disbelief and sheer panic. Maybe he got caught up in an overwhelming amount of work at Mostro Lounge or was drawn into an elaborate scheme. Whatever the reason, once he notices, his stomach twists painfully.

He fumbles for his phone, muttering curses under his breath, and when he sees your unanswered messages, he nearly drops it. Azul’s mind races, already imagining the hurt expression on your face. He feels sick with guilt, but Azul’s pride prevents him from sending a rushed apology text. No—he needs to do this in person.

He fixes his tie and tries to compose himself, but his nerves are shot. When he finally finds you, he hesitates, seeing the disappointment in your eyes. Azul straightens his posture, but there’s a rare, unguarded vulnerability in his gaze.

“Angelfish... I have no excuse. I failed to keep my promise, and I know I’ve hurt you. I cannot begin to express how regretful I am.” He pauses, voice softer. “Please, allow me to make it up to you. I’ll do anything you wish. A special evening at Mostro Lounge? A dinner prepared just for you? I just... I can’t stand knowing I’ve made you feel this way.”

Azul’s usual eloquence is laced with genuine worry. He hates feeling powerless, and the idea of losing your trust makes his chest ache. He’s prepared to offer you anything, but what really matters to him is hearing that you forgive him.

Later, he’d spend days planning something extravagant—a private dinner at the lounge with a dish named after you, symbolizing how important you are to him. He’d also be more careful about balancing his commitments, never wanting to repeat the mistake.

Jade Leech

Jade is usually composed and meticulous, so forgetting a date with you would be unusual for him. It likely happens when he’s out exploring the mountains, captivated by a rare mushroom species, or when he’s helping Azul at the lounge. Time tends to slip away from him when he’s fully absorbed, but the moment he remembers, his eyes widen just a fraction—an uncharacteristic break in his calm demeanor.

Jade takes a moment to assess the situation, letting out a small, almost amused sigh at his own mistake. Despite his outward composure, he feels a twinge of guilt. He quickly makes his way to the agreed-upon meeting spot, already calculating how to smooth things over.

When he finds you, his smile is warm but slightly apologetic. “Ah, there you are, my dear. I must apologize—it seems I lost track of time. I didn’t intend to keep you waiting.” His tone is calm and sincere, but he’s carefully observing your reaction, those heterochromatic eyes studying every flicker of emotion on your face.

If you express your disappointment, Jade’s smile softens. He steps closer, his hand brushing against yours. “It’s quite unlike me to be forgetful. I must have been too engrossed in my tasks... but that’s no excuse. Allow me to make it up to you. Perhaps a private dinner at the lounge? I’ll prepare something special myself.”

Jade is surprisingly gentle when making amends, and though he’s skilled at charming his way out of situations, this time, his apology is genuine. He doesn’t want you to doubt his intentions, and he’ll be extra attentive during your rescheduled date, showing that he values your time.

Rook Hunt

Rook is often poetic and passionate, but his passion can sometimes lead him astray. He probably gets caught up tracking a rare beast or observing the beauty of nature, completely losing track of time. It’s only when he notices the setting sun and the quiet of the forest that it hits him—he was supposed to meet you an hour ago!

Immediately, his heart pounds with both excitement and guilt. How could he, the ever-attentive hunter, forget his most beloved prey—you? Rook rushes back to campus, all the while crafting apologies in his mind. When he finally finds you, his face lights up with relief and regret.

“Mademoiselle! Mon trésor!” he calls out dramatically, dropping to one knee as he takes your hand, his green eyes sincere and almost pleading. “I have committed a most grievous sin! To leave you waiting, unknowing of my whereabouts—it wounds my heart! Forgive me, for I am but a fool who let himself be enchanted by the wild’s siren call!”

He listens attentively as you express your feelings, never once interrupting, and when you finish, he holds your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. “Your forgiveness would be a treasure I would cherish. Allow me to make amends! I shall devote myself entirely to you for the evening—whether a serenade, a meal, or a grand hunt! Whatever your heart desires, I shall deliver!”

Rook’s apologies are grand and sincere, and his poetic nature makes it hard to stay upset. He’s genuinely remorseful and will likely spend the rest of the night showering you with affection and compliments to make you smile again.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek prides himself on his loyalty and punctuality, especially when it comes to his duties—or anything related to Malleus. So, when he realizes he missed your date, it’s like his entire world comes crashing down. He was probably caught up training or attending to Malleus, and when he remembers, his reaction is explosive.

“What?! I—IMPOSSIBLE! HOW COULD I—” Sebek’s voice booms as he panics, his brain trying to comprehend his mistake. He’s frustrated with himself and mortified at the thought of letting you down. Immediately, he sprints to the meeting place, not caring about the curious stares from fellow students.

When he finds you, his loud presence precedes him. “HUMAN! I—” He stops abruptly, seeing the hurt on your face, and his usual loud demeanor softens, his ears lowering slightly. “I... I failed to keep my word. There is no excuse for such negligence. You have every right to be upset with me!”

His fists clench at his sides as he struggles to maintain his usual proud posture, but you can tell he’s beating himself up inside. “I... I was training. I thought I’d be back in time, but I was careless. I do not deserve your forgiveness!”

If you tell him how you feel, Sebek’s frustration with himself only grows. “To fail both you and my own standards... I will accept any punishment you deem fit! But... I will not let it happen again! You are important to me, and I should have prioritized our time.”

Sebek would spend the next few days making up for his mistake, offering to accompany you everywhere, carrying your belongings, and trying to be extra attentive. He doesn’t quite know how to express affection as gracefully as others, but his efforts to make it up to you are both endearing and earnest.

Rook Hunt: Tsum Admirer

Please note that this is a repost from my previous blog (that no longer exists!)

This was originally posted August 21st, 2024 as a silly fic I wrote for an event lol ♡

Enjoy! ☘︎

Ace was on his way back to Heartslabyul with Deuce, discussing the last class they had. As they turned the corner, they found you, standing next to an arrow stuck in the wall. The arrow was small, like a children’s toy, paper wrapped around it neatly. You removed the paper eagerly, reading the contents before holding it to your chest, letting out a sigh.

“Oh, what’s this? Another one of Rook’s letters?” Ace teased, knowing how hard the hunter has tried to get your attention. He was surprised when you shook your head, saying the last thing he was expecting.

“It’s from Rook’s tsum actually… he has such a way with words.” you say dreamily, handing the letter to Ace to read. Deuce stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder curiously, wanting to read it too.

“Uh…Name…?” Ace started, confused by what he was looking at. Deuce shared his confusion, eyebrows furrowing as they turned to stare at you.

“This is just the word ‘tsum’ repeated over and over.” Ace points out, holding the letter up for emphasize.

“He wrote me a poem too!” you say, handing them a different piece of paper. Deuce takes this one, glancing at it for a moment before showing Ace.

“This one’s just scribbles!” Deuce says, pointing as Ace looks it over.

“Dude…” Ace starts, looking at him in concern. “This one’s just the word 'tsum’ repeated too, but in cursive.” He states, putting a hand on Deuce’s shoulder. He gives him a look as he asks him, “Do you… not know how to read cursive?”

Before Deuce could respond, you continued, bringing out another piece of paper. “He even drew this picture of me! Isn’t he so talented?” you sigh, holding out the drawing for them to see.

They weren’t expecting much, figuring the drawing would be reminiscent of a child’s work. They were shocked to discover that wasn’t the case, their eyes widening in surprise as they stared at it in awe.

It was you, clear as day. The drawing almost like a photograph with how realistic it was. In it, you were smiling, surrounded by different flowers. A… tsum drew this? Ace and Deuce stared at each other, thinking the same thing.

Suddenly as arrow shoots by, causing Ace to jump back in surprise. This arrow was bigger than the one already in the wall, piercing it as flowers scattered from the impact. A large bouquet was attached to it, along with a letter, your name written neatly on the front.

Before you could read it, another arrow shoots by, causing Deuce to jump back. This arrow was smaller, like a toy, an even larger bouquet somehow wrapped around it. More flowers flew at it’s impact, with Ace and Deuce giving each other a look, choosing to leave. The last thing they needed was to get into the middle of whatever this was…

Looks like you’ve got two admirers, fighting for your attention ♡

Thank You! ♡

Hello, I wanted to tell you in advance that I like the way you write and that I find your posts quite entertaining ^^.

I could ask for an octotrio with an s/o who has made several deals with Azul and has not lost any, emerging victorious by mere luck or by technicalities that the reader saw and took advantage of?

𝐬/𝐨 𝐰𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭

— Azul : Jade : Floyd : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. established relationship. Pic: Leo08ph on twt, dividers: uzmacchiato

note : Thank you so much for your kind words! I’m glad you enjoy my posts!

Azul Ashengrotto ༉⋆｡˚

⭑.ᐟ Azul is baffled and increasingly frustrated, though he tries to keep up his usual composed front. He takes a lot of pride in how solid his contracts are, so it really gets under his skin when you keep finding loopholes—legally speaking, of course. At first, he thinks it’s just bad luck. But by the third or fourth time, he’s going through his contracts at least three times before he hands them over to you.

⭑.ᐟ worst part? You’re not even being smug about it. You’re just being clever, like when you casually point out, “You said I couldn’t use magic to do the favor, but you never said I couldn’t get someone else to do it for me.” And Azul is just sitting there, nodding along because you’re kind of right.

⭑.ᐟ He starts developing a fascination with you—not just because you’re his s/o, but because you’re a wild card. There’s a thrill in never knowing if he’s outsmarted you this time or if you’ll find another loophole. “One of these days, dear, you’ll sign a deal even you can’t wriggle out of.”

Jade Leech ༉⋆｡˚

⭑.ᐟ Jade is delighted. He finds your crafty—or incredible luck—absolutely charming. The fact that you can go toe-to-toe with Azul and come out untouched? That’s practically entertainment. He’ll always be lurking in the background when you’re making deals, silently watching with an amused glint in his eye.

⭑.ᐟ He knows Azul never offers a deal that he doesn’t expect to win. But somehow, you—you of all people—manage to dance through every trap with a smile and a perfectly timed clause in your favor. He watches your expressions, your word choices, the way your eyes flick toward a clause, or how your tone subtly shifts when you’re asking for clarification. You're like a fascinating book, and Jade can’t get enough of learning from you.

⭑.ᐟ But there’s a sharp glint in his eyes like he wants you to find the loophole again—because it thrills him. Watching you outsmart Azul is like watching a predator dance around another predator’s jaws. And he loves that kind of tension.

⭑.ᐟ He starts playing his own subtle games with you — just out of curiosity. It's like little brain teasers, confusing questions, and riddles that keep you guessing. “You're not just lucky. You’re clever. There’s nothing more attractive than a mind that can dance.”

Floyd Leech ༉⋆｡˚

⭑.ᐟ Floyd thinks it’s hilarious. Every time you win a deal, he practically howls with laughter. He lives for the chaos of watching Azul go stiff with rage as you hand over a technically correct reading of the contract.

⭑.ᐟ He gets genuinely excited like he’s watching a high-stakes game. He’ll sit cross-legged on a couch, snacking on candy, practically buzzing with excitement as you go over a contract. And when you find a mistake or bring up some random rule that lets you walk away scot-free? He dies laughing. Gives you a big slap on the back. Twirls you around like he just scored a big win at the carnival.

⭑.ᐟ At some point, he starts asking you to help him with bets or negotiations, either for the fun of watching people squirm or just because you’re weirdly good at it. He likes that you keep things interesting. Even if he doesn’t always get the rules you’re using, he’ll follow your lead just because it’s fun. “You’re a sneaky little shrimpy, let’s see who can we mess with next.”

Trash Novel Chronicles Masterlist

1. Please Let Me Live || Vil Schoenheit

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

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

2. Villain System vs World || Riddle Rosehearts

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

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

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

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

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

5. Not Another Royal Mess || Azul Ashengrotto

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

6. Love Triangles and Royal Rumbles || Leona Kingscholar

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

7. I Want To Retire! || Idia Shroud

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

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

8. Stealing the Plot for Drama || Jamil Viper

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

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

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

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

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

10. My Consort Calls Me Shrimpy || Floyd Leech

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

11. Get Me Out of Here || Rook Hunt

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

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

12. How to Ruin a Plot || Jade Leech

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

13. I Want a Refund || Trey Clover

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

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

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

15. My Knight is Too Loyal || Sebek Zigvolt

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

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

YOUR MYDEI TRYING TO COURT US FIC WAS SOSOSO CUTE IT HAD ME GIGGLING LIKE A MANIAC.

Would our amazing author pretty please consider making a part 2 when they have time 🙏 mayb they get together and mydei asks y/n out on an actual date but still is getting use to flirting in their way. No pressure though, love every morsel of mydei content from u 😭😭😭

I got multiple requests for a second part, so it's time to feed you guys♡

Mydei x (fem)reader

Mydei courting reader Part2

Part 1

The kitchen was warm, filled with the rich, comforting scent of butter and spice. Y/N sat on the edge of the counter, legs swinging idly as she watched Mydei work. His movements were precise, methodical—hands dusted with flour as he kneaded the dough with ease, rolling it out before folding it again. His expression was unreadable, but there was a certain focus in the way he handled the ingredients.

“You’re really good at this,” Y/N noted, resting her chin on her hand.

Mydei didn’t look up, but the corner of his lips almost twitched. “I’ve had practice.”

“I didn’t know you baked.”

“Hm.” He paused, carefully pressing the dough into shape. “It’s just… preparing food. Like anything else. Following the right steps, controlling the heat.”

Y/N hummed. “You make it sound so simple, but I’m pretty sure I’d mess it up in three seconds.”

Mydei glanced at her, golden eyes briefly flicking over her face before he returned to his task. “You’d just need to learn.”

She pouted. “Are you offering to teach me?”

Another pause. Then: “Maybe.”

Before she could tease him about it, another voice chimed in.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Y/N turned just in time to see Phainon leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, watching them with unmistakable amusement. His blue eyes flickered to the baking ingredients, then to Mydei, and his grin widened.

“Mydei,” he said slowly, stepping into the kitchen, “are you baking?”

Mydei’s jaw tensed, but he didn’t stop what he was doing. “…Yes.”

Phainon looked delighted. “You mean to tell me that all this time, you’ve had the ability to make delicious pastries, and I’m only now finding out?”

Y/N snickered. “I know, right? He’s been holding out on us.”

Mydei ignored them both.

Unbothered, Phainon walked over and leaned on the counter beside Y/N. “So, what are we making?”

“We aren’t making anything,” Mydei corrected.

Phainon placed a hand over his chest, feigning offense. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that.” He glanced at the dough, inspecting it with mild curiosity. “Looks fancy. What is it?”

Y/N answered before Mydei could. “He said it’s a spiced honey pastry. Apparently, it’s something Kremnoans eat after big feasts.”

Phainon raised a brow. “Huh. Never imagined you as the type to make sweets.”

“I don’t make them often.”

“So, what, is this a special occasion?”

Mydei didn’t answer.

Phainon smirked. “Interesting.”

Y/N, completely missing the implication, just nodded along. “Yeah, I was wondering the same thing! He said he felt like making something, but he won’t say why.”

Phainon shot Mydei a look that screamed, You’re so obvious, it hurts.

Mydei, sensing it, leveled him with a sharp glare.

Y/N, still blissfully unaware, just tilted her head. “So, what’s next?”

“…Shaping the dough,” Mydei muttered, shifting his focus back to the counter.

Phainon grinned. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.”

And with that, the three of them continued—Y/N genuinely interested in learning, Phainon occasionally throwing in unhelpful commentary, and Mydei just barely tolerating them. (Barely tolerating phainon)

If nothing else, at least the pastries would turn out well.

The sweet, warm scent of freshly baked pastries filled the air as Mydei pulled the tray from the oven. Golden and crisp on the outside, soft and honeyed within—perfect.

Y/N leaned forward, eyes bright with admiration. “Wow, Mydei, these look amazing.”

He huffed softly, carefully plating a few. “Taste it.”

She didn’t hesitate, breaking one open and taking a bite. The moment the flavors melted on her tongue, her eyes widened, and she let out a delighted hum. “Oh my, Mydei—this is so good.”

Mydei allowed himself a small, satisfied smirk.

Meanwhile, Phainon, who had been eyeing the pastries the entire time, reached for one. “Alright, my turn—”

Without even looking, Mydei smoothly pulled the plate just out of his reach.

Phainon blinked. “Wait. Did you just—”

Silence.

Mydei focused solely on Y/N as she savored the pastry, blissfully unaware of Phainon’s suffering.

“Are you seriously not giving me one?” Phainon asked, incredulous.

No response.

Y/N, completely oblivious, just kept talking between bites. “This is honestly unfair. You can fight, you can cook, you can bake—” She ticked off each point on her fingers. “You’re great with kids, strong, good-looking—”

There was a pause.

Mydei stilled.

Phainon, who had been mid-complaint, went silent.

Y/N, not noticing, casually continued.

“You really are husband material.”

The room went dead quiet.

Mydei, who had just taken a bite of his own pastry, suddenly choked. He coughed violently, setting his plate down as he tried—and failed—to recover. His golden eyes widened slightly, his usual composure cracking for the first time.

Phainon, meanwhile, looked like he was about to explode.

His entire body trembled as he bit down on his knuckles, his blue eyes darting between Y/N—who was still completely unaware—and Mydei, who was struggling between coughing and processing what just happened.

“H-Husband—” Mydei stammered, voice unusually strained. He quickly cleared his throat, trying to regain control. “What?”

Y/N glanced up, chewing. “Hmm?”

“You just—” Mydei exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. He looked at her like she had just knocked the wind out of him. “Did you just call me—”

Phainon made a choked noise.

Y/N blinked. “Oh. Yeah.” She shrugged, finishing the last of her pastry. “I mean, you kinda are. You’ve got all the qualities.”

Phainon slapped the table so hard the dishes rattled, wheezing.

Mydei shot him a sharp glare, but it did nothing to stop him from completely losing it.

Y/N, still unaware of the absolute chaos she had just caused, tilted her head. “What’s so funny?”

Phainon, gasping for air, barely managed to choke out, “N-nothing—nothing at all—please, keep talking—”

Meanwhile, Mydei looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His face, usually unreadable, was visibly strained—his golden eyes flickering between frustration and something else. His ears burned just slightly, but he refused to acknowledge it.

“Anyway,” Y/N continued, utterly unfazed, “this was amazing. You should bake more often, Mydei.”

Mydei, still recovering, only managed a short nod, unable to look at her.

Phainon wiped a tear from his eye, still trembling from silent laughter.

Y/N stretched. “I think I’ll go for a walk. Thanks for the food!”

As soon as the door shut behind her, Phainon collapsed.

His laughter erupted into the open, uncontrollable, as he leaned back against the chair. “Oh—oh, Mydei—” He gasped between wheezes. “Did you see your face?!”

Mydei scowled, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “Shut up.”

But the pink dusting his ears did not go unnoticed.

Phainon was still laughing.

It had been a full minute since Y/N left, and he was not letting it go.

“Husband material,” he wheezed, barely holding himself upright. “You really are husband material, Mydei!” He clutched his stomach, shaking his head. “Oh, this is too good—”

Mydei, sitting rigidly across from him, looked like he was this close to throwing him out the window.

“Are you done?” Mydei said, voice tight.

Phainon wiped at his eyes, trying to calm himself, but every time he looked at Mydei—his arms crossed, his jaw clenched, his golden eyes glaring anywhere except where Y/N had been sitting—he started up again.

“I mean—” Phainon exhaled, catching his breath. “I just—wow. Of all the things she could’ve said.” He grinned. “And you choked.”

Mydei did not dignify that with a response.

Instead, he grabbed another pastry off the plate, taking an aggressive bite, as if the food could somehow make him forget all of it.

But it didn’t.

Because Phainon was still watching him.

And worse—Mydei was still thinking about it.

Husband material.

The words repeated in his mind, unbidden, making something coil uncomfortably in his chest. Not because he disliked the idea, but because of the way she had said it—so casually, so unaware of the effect it had on him.

She really didn’t get it, did she?

Didn’t realize what it meant for someone like him to hear something like that?

He scowled, setting his plate down with a little too much force.

Phainon, of course, caught onto everything.

He smirked, leaning forward on his elbows. “Still thinking about it?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Shut up.”

Phainon chuckled, tilting his head. “So. What’s your next move, husband?”

Mydei shot him a glare that could’ve melted steel.

Phainon just grinned wider.

The streets of Okhema were alive with movement—merchants calling out their wares, travelers bargaining for supplies, the distant clang of a blacksmith hammering steel. But Mydei barely noticed any of it.

He walked with his hands tucked behind his back, his golden eyes narrowed in thought.

The previous day’s events played in his head on repeat.

Y/N had called him husband material—out loud, in front of Phainon, without a second thought. Did she mean it? Would he really be a good Husband? But when he’d tried to gauge her reaction, to see if she had finally understood what he’d been trying to do, she just kept eating her pastries, completely unaware of the effect she had on him.

The memory alone was enough to make him grit his teeth.

He had tried everything. Gifts. Training. Spending time with her. He had been obvious—at least, by Kremnoan standards. Back home, anyone would have understood his intentions immediately.

But Y/N?

She was clueless.

He exhaled sharply, adjusting the gauntlets on his wrists.

Phainon had said he needed to be more direct. That was easier said than done. It wasn’t in his nature to be… soft. Kremnos didn’t have words for love. They had words for strength, for battle, for survival. Their affections were shown through actions, not flowery phrases or pointless compliments.

And yet, despite everything, he was losing this battle.

His next attempt had to be unmistakable.

But how—

A familiar sound stopped him in his tracks.

Laughter.

And not just anyone’s laughter—hers.

Mydei’s head snapped up, his sharp gaze scanning the marketplace.

And then he saw her.

Y/N stood in an open space near a merchant stall, surrounded by children. She was crouched down, talking animatedly, hands moving as she spoke. The kids around her giggled, some clapping their hands, others tugging at her sleeves excitedly.

Then, without warning, she bolted.

The children shrieked in delight and ran after her, their laughter ringing through the street as they chased her through the crowd.

Mydei stared.

What in the world was she doing?

His feet moved on instinct, his curiosity outweighing his frustration as he stepped closer, watching the scene unfold.

She was playing with them.

She twisted around a cart, narrowly dodging one of the kids who lunged for her. “Too slow!” she teased, sticking out her tongue before dashing away again.

The children shouted in protest, determination burning in their eyes as they picked up speed.

Mydei couldn’t help but huff a quiet breath of amusement.

She was ridiculous.

But then—

“MYDEI!”

Her voice cut through the noise, bright and full of excitement.

His muscles tensed.

Slowly, cautiously, he met her gaze.

A grin spread across her face, her eyes practically glowing.

One of the kids tugged at her sleeve. “Oh! It’s the warrior prince!”

Another turned toward him, eyes wide. “He’s really big…”

A third tilted their head. “Do you think he knows how to play?”

Mydei’s brow twitched.

Y/N clapped her hands together. “Perfect timing! We’re playing tag, but the teams are uneven.”

She pointed at him.

“You should join us!”

The kids immediately erupted in cheers.

“YES!”

“Play with us!”

“You’ll be really fast, right? You’re a warrior!”

A beat of silence passed.

Mydei stared at Y/N, then at the eager faces of the children.

Play? Him?

He was a Kremnoan warrior. He had never played tag in his life.

This was ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

But then Y/N tilted her head, her smile softening just slightly, and—

…Damn it.

His fate was sealed.

One second, Mydei was standing tall, arms crossed as he observed the game unfold—the next, a child had launched themselves at him.

The impact barely made him stumble, but the little hands clinging to him and the triumphant laughter left no room for doubt.

He was it.

Mydei blinked, processing what had just happened as the other children burst into cheers.

“YOU’RE IT NOW!”

“CATCH SOMEONE!”

He let out a slow exhale, golden eyes scanning the gathered group. The kids stared at him in wide-eyed excitement, giggling behind their hands. Some were already shifting nervously, ready to sprint for their lives if his attention landed on them.

But Mydei wasn’t looking at them.

His gaze snapped to Y/N.

She was just standing there—until their eyes met.

A slow grin spread across his face, sharp as a predator about to pounce.

Y/N’s own smile faltered.

“Oh, shit.”

Then she bolted.

Laughter bubbled up in her chest as she sprinted through the streets of Okhema, dodging past merchants and startled pedestrians.

Behind her, the children cheered and whooped.

“GET HER, MYDEI!”

“RUN, Y/N, RUN!”

“I’M BETTING FIVE COINS ON MYDEI!”

“You don’t have five coins!”

“I’M STILL BETTING THEM!”

Y/N glanced over her shoulder—

And immediately regretted it.

Mydei was already closing the distance, long strides eating up the ground far faster than they should have. He was fast—too fast.

Her heart pounded.

If she wanted to win this, she had to think fast.

She darted toward the marketplace, weaving between food stalls and carts, leaping over crates with practiced ease.

But he didn’t slow down.

She could hear the heavy thud of his boots behind her, smooth and relentless.

She turned a corner sharply, hoping to throw him off. But then—

A strong arm shot out, just barely missing her.

A laugh rumbled from him.

“Oh, you’re dead now,” he called.

Y/N’s stomach flipped.

She needed height.

Spotting a stack of barrels, she vaulted onto them, then used the momentum to grab onto a wooden beam, swinging herself up onto a rooftop.

The kids gasped.

"WHOA! SHE'S LIKE A NINJA!"

"MYDEI, CAN YOU DO THAT?!"

Y/N grinned smugly, peeking over the edge. No way he's following me now.

Then she heard a heavy thud.

Her grin vanished.

Not even a second later—

Mydei had scaled the wall with brute force, gripping the ledge and pulling himself up in one swift motion.

The kids screamed in excitement.

"HE DID IT!"

“HE’S LIKE A HERO FROM A STORY!”

Y/N groaned. Of course he did.

She turned and ran again.

Now, they were tearing across the rooftops of Okhema.

Y/N moved like the wind, ducking under laundry lines, leaping between buildings, twisting midair to grab onto beams and pull herself up with effortless grace.

But Mydei—

He was a force of nature.

Where she dodged, he barreled through. Where she leaped, he jumped higher.

She landed on a narrow ledge, catching her breath for half a second

Then she felt a presence behind her.

She turned her head—

And nearly screamed.

Mydei was right there.

His golden eyes gleamed, his smirk wider than ever.

“Caught you.”

Before she could react, he lunged.

Y/N barely had a second to react before Mydei lunged.

With one smooth motion, he caught her wrist and pulled—sending them tumbling together onto the rooftop. She let out a startled gasp as she landed on her back, Mydei’s weight hovering just above her, pinning her down with ease.

She blinked, trying to catch her breath.

His golden eyes locked onto hers, sharp and unwavering.

There was no cocky remark this time. Just silence.

His grip on her wrist was firm but not tight, his other hand braced beside her head. His body was warm, muscles taut from the chase, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths.

Y/N’s heart pounded.

Not just from running.

Her lips parted slightly, trying to find words, but her mind had gone completely blank.

Why… why was he looking at her like that?

Like she was something to be hunted.

Something claimed.

She swallowed hard, face growing warm under his gaze.

And Mydei noticed.

The corner of his lips curled up slightly, and—

“WHOOOAAAAA!!!”

Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin at the explosion of cheering from below.

The kids had caught up.

And they were going wild.

“HE CAUGHT HER!”

“THAT WAS SO COOL!!”

“MYDEI IS A WARRIOR KING! DID YOU SEE THAT LEAP?!”

“Y/N, YOU LOST!”

The spell was shattered.

Y/N immediately turned her head, face burning. Mydei, however, just huffed a quiet laugh, clearly enjoying the situation way too much.

Still holding her wrist, he leaned down a fraction—just close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath.

“Looks like you’re mine now.”

Her brain short-circuited.

But before she could even process a response, Mydei finally released her and pushed himself up with a smirk.

She stared at him, flustered beyond belief.

What… what just happened?!

Still trying to steady her racing heart, Y/N sat up as Mydei extended a hand to her. She hesitated for a second before grasping it, letting him pull her to her feet with ease.

His smirk hadn’t faded.

Before she could say anything, the children’s excited chattering reminded her that they weren’t alone.

"THAT WAS SO AWESOME!"

"You guys were so fast!"

"Did you see when Mydei jumped from the cart to the roof?! That was just like a hero in the old war stories!"

"Y/N almost got away! But then BOOM! Caught in one swoop!"

Y/N cleared her throat, desperately trying to compose herself. “Alright, alright, settle down,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “So what now? We’re all sweaty and covered in dust.”

One of the kids, a boy with wild curls, suddenly gasped as if he had the greatest idea in history.

"WAIT!" He turned to the others, his face glowing with mischief. “Since Mydei won, he needs a reward!”

A chorus of agreement followed.

Y/N felt a sense of dread creeping in.

"Yeah! He totally deserves something!"

"Like a feast fit for a warrior!"

"Or a cool new weapon!"

Then, before she could stop it—

"A kiss from the loser!"

…Silence.

Y/N felt all the air leave her lungs.

Her brain shut down.

Her soul left her body.

Did—Did that little gremlin just say—?!

The group of kids immediately exploded into laughter and cheers, clapping and nodding as if it was the most brilliant idea ever conceived.

“Yeah! A KISS!”

“A real warrior’s reward!”

“That’s what happens in the old stories! The victorious warrior gets a kiss from the fair maiden!”

Y/N’s face was on fire.

The cheering hadn’t stopped.

The kids were still bouncing around, giggling, and chanting for Y/N to give Mydei his “victory reward.”

Meanwhile, she was still frozen.

She could feel the heat creeping up her neck, her face burning as she kept her gaze trained anywhere but on Mydei.

But then—

She dared a glance at him.

And what she saw stopped her brain completely.

He wasn’t looking at her.

Or at the kids.

Or anywhere really.

Instead, Mydei was staring off into the distance, arms crossed, posture stiff—trying so hard to look unaffected.

But.

His ears.

They were red.

Y/N blinked.

Then blinked again.

He was flustered.

The realization hit her like a boulder.

Mydei, the warrior who faced armies without blinking, who never seemed bothered by anything, who was always composed—

Was actually flustered.

Something about that made her heart flip.

And before she could stop herself—

She acted.

She reached out, tapped his shoulder.

He turned, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Wha—”

Y/N grabbed the collar and pulled him down slightly—

And pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

The world went silent.

For a long second, Mydei did not move.

His golden eyes went wide, his entire body going rigid.

And then—

His face turned completely red.

It started at his ears, then spread down his neck, creeping across his cheeks.

His lips parted slightly, as if trying to form a sentence.

But no words came out.

Instead, what left his mouth was—

“…I— You— Wha—”

He couldn’t even speak.

And that—

Was absolutely amazing.

Before he could even recover, the kids exploded into cheers.

“WHOOOOAAAAA!!”

“THAT WAS SO COOL!!”

“I KNEW SHE’D DO IT!”

“Mydei lost his brain—look at him!!”

“I think he DIED!”

Y/N, cheeks still burning, looked up at Mydei—who still hadn’t moved.

His mouth was slightly open, his hand twitching like he wanted to touch his cheek but refused to do it in front of everyone.

Finally—

He turned away sharply, crossing his arms.

“…Tch.”

Y/N grinned.

But unbeknownst to both of them—

A little distance away, hiding behind a pillar, Phainon was grinning ear to ear.

And in his hands?

A perfectly timed picture of the exact moment Y/N kissed Mydei’s cheek.

The blue-eyed warrior chuckled to himself, tucking his phone away.

“Oh, this is going to be useful.”

Let's Be Crazy

Floyd Leech x Gn!Reader

*Notes: I included some photos from the game... let's just pretend he isn't standing in Ramshackle, lol. Also, I'm a big believer that Floyd would appreciate a partner who stands up for him when people call him crazy or make fun of his mood swings cause I feel like it would kinda upset him when people did that. Finally, there's swearing in this.*

Your morning started as usual: breakfast with Grim and walking to class with Floyd. Unfortunately, Azul had called him after class about an emergency at the Mostro Lounge that required immediate attention. You reassured him that you would meet up with him at lunch. He left with a relaxed smile, but his eyes were squinted just enough to give you the impression that he was annoyed to be called in while trying to spend time with you. That had been a couple hours ago, and lunch had started, but there was no Floyd to be found. So, you went looking for him.

It didn't take long as you quickly heard screams and shouts from the courtyard. Looking around a pillar, you see your boyfriend squeezing the life out of a Scarabia student. His friends shout for Floyd to let him go while the student struggles and screams for help. You take a deep breath; why do people always have to provoke him? ... Well, to be honest Floyd normally gets provoked when people aren't trying, but still.

"Hey!" you call out, causing Floyd to swing around to face you, the Scarabia student flailing in his arms. Noting the stern look on your face, he tosses the boy to the side where he hits the ground hard.

Floyd opens his mouth to explain, but his expression changes to shock when you gently cup his jaw.

"What happened?" You whisper, "Why are we angry at him?"

Floyd stays quiet in a curious turn of events, breaking eye contact with you. Your brows furrow, but when you realize he isn't going to say anything, you turn and walk to the Scarabia student still lying on the ground.

"What the fuck did you do?" You hiss, looking down on him.

The student looks at you in offense that you would assume he did anything in the first place. He stands, glaring at you while his friends huddle closer.

"I didn't do a damn thing, he's just crazy!" The boy yells, gesturing to Floyd behind you.

Before anyone can react, you swiftly kick the boy in the groin. As he doubles over in pain, you push him back onto the ground.

You gasp in surprise as if you weren't the one who did that, but you quickly collect yourself, leaning closer.

"I'm honestly not that sorry because you've been very rude. I'd hate to hear what people say about you..." you glance up at his friends, who look torn between defending him and keeping their distance from you.

Looking back down, you force the boy to make eye contact, "Pull that shit again, and I won't be so gentle... maybe you'll come to learn who's truly the crazy one."

You bring your leg back, making it seem like you'll kick the boy again. He flinches, scrambling back to his friends who surround him as they walk away.

Holding back a laugh, you turn back to see Floyd's rare soft smile.

"Hey, Shrimpy, you didn't have to do all that." He mumbles, his cheeks flushing a little.

"Of course I did. There is no way I'm letting him insult you, especially to my face." You walk closer, wrapping your arms around Floyd's waist.

Immediately, he squeezes you tightly to the point that you start to lose your breath. But you don't stop him, which he laughs gratefully at.

"Wanna tell me what that dick did?"

Floyd looks at you with a somewhat sheepish smile, "Ohhh y'know, talking 'bout how you must be deranged to date a psychopath like me."

Your hands tighten on the back of his coat, and you take a calming breath before smiling brightly at him.

"Well, I think that's none of his business. If I wanna date someone most people on campus are scared of, that's my choice. Plus, I always want you to express your emotions, even the heavy ones. Your feelings are valid, and I'm not going to push them away; we'll deal with them together."

Floyd can barely contain his excitement with each word out of your mouth. The moment you pause, he hurriedly crushes his lips to yours. You can feel the pinpricks of his teeth as he becomes overwhelmed by love.

When he finally pulls away, he whispers, "Thank you... Y/n."